Tanis nodded absently as she brought up the STC data she’d pulled, and looked through the departure queues.
“Damn…there it is.”
<Filed for Jovian space, too.>
Pushing herself upright, Tanis pulled off the white helmet she’d almost forgotten about—until she laid down on it. “Looks like we have another ship to book. Do we know where in the JC they’re going?”
<You sure you just don’t want to blow the whistle on other-you and end this charade?>
“Not while she’s in control of the Jones, no. Too risky. Besides, now that the oligarch isn’t in danger anymore, we have a bit of leeway to find out who is up to all this.”
<I’ll admit, I really want to know as well. Though we haven’t found a single freaking clue, yet.>
“So where do you think they’re going?” Tanis asked. “The flight plan only has initial vectors and Jupiter’s nearspace as a destination.”
<If I were a betting AI, which I’ve been known to do from time to time, I’d say it’s a toss-up between Ganymede and Europa.>
“Really?” Tanis arched an eyebrow as she rose and rolled over to the crates, popping the first one open. “If she’s going to take out the oligarch, wouldn’t she go to the Cho?”
<Maybe, but my research shows that he’s dedicated to his vacations. If he can’t go to Ceres, I bet his security will at least insist he go somewhere close to home that they can control better. He has a ranch on Ganymede, and often stays at one of the underwater cities on Europa—Chora’s Height. Personally, my money is on Europa.>
Tanis pulled out one of Claire’s dresses, a short, flouncy number with a solid white bodice made of hard plas. “Could be worse,” she muttered about the dress, and tossed it onto the bed. “Why’s your money on Europa?”
<Because a company he owns just opened a new casino there, and he’s the sort that likes to stay at places he owns.>
A few more outfits passed muster and landed on the bed, while only one landed in the ‘hell no’ pile.
“I suppose that makes sense. Europa and Ganymede are only half a day’s travel apart, as well, so if we guess wrong, it’s not the end of the world.”
<Right, yeah…Tanis?>
“Uh huh?” Tanis asked while holding up a strange silver outfit.
<What are you doing?>
“Picking out Claire’s wardrobe. I want to have at least some say in it.”
<Wow…I’ve been shoring up a new cover for you to book the flight with. I thought you’d had your fill of Claire.>
“Keep it handy in case we need it when we get there, but I kinda like travelling in style. I finally figured out how to be Claire the way she should be: flamboyant—not hiding and aloof.”
<Well, OK, then. You should totally wear what you’re holding.>
“Only once I understand what it is.”
<You know the Golists?>
Tanis nodded. “The Taoist quasi-cyborg monk capitalists who abhor motion?”
<Yeah, them. That’s inspired by those oddballs—but with more motion allowed.>
“Sounds…complex.”
Tanis quickly packed up Claire’s outfits, including her roller-girl getup, which she planned to wear again. She almost left the corset behind, but Darla convinced her that it was necessary to ‘pull off the look’.
Once the room was cleaned, and the cartons that would come with her to Europa were separated from the ones that would go into storage, Tanis prepared herself for the Golist-inspired debacle she’d decided to brave.
Golists abhorred motion so much that they couldn’t even abide the idea of legs moving—to that end, most of them had their legs, and often arms, removed. Even wheels were too much for them, so much of their body mass was dedicated to various sorts of hover-tech, from magnetics to turbines.
In Tanis’s mind, turbines blasting out air to keep a person aloft counted as motion, but it seemed to be an accepted incongruity for the sect.
She wasn’t about to remove her legs for fashion—not that she had the time for that sort of mod surgery before she was due to board the liner bound for Europa—but luckily, the outfit Darla had purchased didn’t require it.
“I feel like I’ve graduated,” Tanis said as she looked at the teardrop-shaped bottom part of the costume. “I’ve been in powered armor far less imposing than this.”
<You’d best put the base on the ground.>
Tanis pulled the half-meter-wide disk out of the crate and set it down.
Since she—and presumably most people who wore the outfit—was not prepared to cut off her legs and use the space for levitation tech, she needed a more conventional way to hover. The disk had well concealed wheels and appeared to glide over the ground. It would create a magnetic field on which the bottom half of the Golist costume would float.
“I shoulda called Sergeant Ava to help me,” Tanis said with a laugh as she laid down on the bed and folded her calves back against her thighs. “Here goes.”
“Yup, just like powered armor,” she said, wincing slightly as the biosystems tested their connections. “People who devise these things are sadists.”
<Does that make you a masochist?> Darla asked with a laugh.
“Maybe I just like you a lot, Darla, and I’m trying to make you happy.
<Tanis! That might be one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.>
Once the bottom half of the outfit ran through its initial checks, Tanis moved to the edge of the bed and slid off to hover a meter above the pad.
“OK…this is actually kinda fun.”
<Look at you. Fun twice in one day.>
The lower half of the costume had been loose and flexible when Tanis pulled it on, but once it was hovering, it expanded and solidified into a gleaming, inverted teardrop. She rapped a knuckle against it, and it rang like a bell.
“I guess when Connie calls me ‘old iron pants’, she won’t be resorting to hyperbole anymore.”
<Has she ever said that?>
“Well…no, but I could see her doing it.”
<Hurry and finish up. That’s not a fast-moving outfit you’ve picked, and we’re on the clock.>
“So demanding,” Tanis muttered as she picked up the top part of the Golistic attire.
Unlike the bottom, which didn’t reveal her figure at all, the top part was perfectly form-fitting, to the point that it was a bit of a struggle to get on. Once she managed to do so, the torso section solidified as well. Accessing the controls for the magnetic field she hovered on, Tanis spun and looked at the stylized helmet that lay on the bed.
“I’m not so sure about that, it makes the automaton mask look like child’s play.”
<Tanis…you’re doing so well. You gotta complete the outfit.>
“OK, OK.”
She picked up the back piece of the helmet, set it into the high collar, and waited for it to draw her hair up and out of the way before she pulled it forward until it sat snugly against her head. Two connections seated into her cranial heat transfer ports, and then her HUD flashed an update that she had enhanced neural cooling abilities.
“Huh, I guess that’s cool.”
<Well punned. Hurry up.>
Tanis picked up the mask piece and set it in place on the front of the helmet. It all but sucked itself tight against her face, and then a notice flashed on her HUD: Fashion-G Suit Ready.
She activated the room’s holomirror and looked herself over. The helmet had two large, wing-like fins sweeping off the back of her head, which matched the ones coming off her shoulders. Her face was clearly visible, though covered in the helmet’s mas
k. She gave a slight smile, and the mask pulled her face into a wide grin.
“I guess this is the satirical aspect of this thing?” Tanis asked, her voice varying in pitch and overemphasizing certain words.
<Yeah, it exaggerates your face and voice, while holding the rest of you almost perfectly still.>
“What about my arms?” Tanis asked, holding up her uncovered hands.
<It’s in the Fashion-G Suit’s menu system. You have to activate the hand coverings.>
Tanis found the option and triggered it, surprised to see flowmetal pour down her arms and cover her hands, and then keep going until long tentacles reached the deck.
“Seriously?” she asked with a chuckle that came out as guffaw.
<There’s an option for it to just coat your hands. You can switch to that.>
“This much flowmetal must cost a fortune,” Tanis whispered excitedly as she held up her arms, carefully manipulating the tentacles by twitching her fingers.
<What do you think?> Darla asked expectantly.
“I look like some sort of stylized planter with a chrome venus fly trap growing out of the top.”
<Do you want to change? There’s just barely time.>
“No,” Tanis shook her head. “Claire approves.”
<And Tanis?>
“If Tanis saw someone wearing this, she’d have to work real hard to keep her inner hyena at bay.”
<Well…I guess you’re making progress, at least.>
WHISKEY TANGO
STELLAR DATE: 02.24.4084 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Insi Ring
REGION: Ceres, Terran Hegemony, InnerSol
Getting to her scheduled liner, the Whiskey Tango was rather uneventful, considering that Tanis couldn’t move her legs, and her arms were three times their normal length.
She ended up wrapping them around her waist to keep them out of the way, which nearly caused a catastrophe when the spaceport maglev’s magnetic field interfered with her hover-pad, and she quickly had to unravel her arms to grab a nearby safety strap.
<Sorry…it’s supposed to be shielded against that. I guess ‘shielded’ and ‘unaffected’ are two different things.>
<I think I know what it is,> Tanis replied as she sifted through the FGS’s control systems. <There are different modes, and I had it on the more flexible one—it’s fun to bob along. It recommends the rigid mode for maglevs.>
She switched to the higher setting, and felt the gentle rocking motion cease and the magnetic field’s grip strengthen.
<You’ve put me in some strange things, Darla, but this takes the cake. I should upgrade it with some weapons tucked into the pod and add armor. I’d be a hovertank.>
The AI snorted a laugh. <You’d start up a whole new fashion trend. Granted, there was that one a few years back, when the uber-wealthy all modded themselves to look like starships.>
<Sheesh. Everything’s been done, hasn’t it?>
<Pretty much.>
Despite Tanis’s bizarre outfit, she barely rated much notice from the locals, and bit by bit, she realized that folks on Insi were open to just about anything.
It was a lot different from her staid upbringing on Mars, or the more functional clothing and decorum she normally encountered in the TSF sectors of the stations she frequented.
Tanis even saw a few variations on the roller-couture outfit she had worn the day before, their tweaks and flourishes giving her a few ideas for the next time she wore it.
As the maglev pulled into the terminal, a realization that she had never considered before hit her.
<Darla…I think I finally understand this.>
<Hmmm?>
<Fashion is a bit like warfare.…> she mused while twirling one of her tentacles in the air in front of herself.
<Very good, my apprentice—>
<…with stupid rules.>
<And here I thought we were getting somewhere.>
Tanis couldn’t help give a small laugh, which her FSG’s mask turned into a tittering laugh. Keeping up appearances, she touched one of her tentacles to her lips—pleased that she’d managed to master such fine motor control of the flowmetal—and tilted her head in a foppish manner.
<I didn’t mean to be that disparaging, though I’ll admit to taking advantage of good timing. What I mean is that in warfare, when you shoot an enemy in the head, they’re down. No one debates it, no one says ‘well, I think they look fabulous on the ground there’. It just is what it is.>
Darla laughed as Tanis spoke, and her mental avatar nodded in agreement. <OK, I’ll grant you that. But there’s subterfuge in warfare.>
<Sure, but when the chips are down, you know who won and who lost.>
<Trust me, in the fashion world, the same is true. It just manifests as sales and feed coverage ratings.>
<I guess that makes sense. It’s just messy in the middle,> Tanis countered.
<Not that dissimilar from warfare.>
<Touché.>
The maglev reached the terminal, and Tanis disembarked with the other passengers. A group of teenaged boys and girls were behind her, smiling and pointing at her. Then two of them stepped up onto her rolling platform and wrapped their arms around her.
“Awesome FSG,” the girl on her right said, while the boy on her left planted a kiss on her cheek.
“Totally nailable…if you weren’t all covered up down here.” He knocked a fist against her lower half, the sound echoing loudly around them.
“Hey!” Tanis exclaimed, but couldn’t help laugh as the boy winked and hopped off, followed by the girl who blew her a kiss.
“You should add color!” one of the girls in the group said over her shoulder as the teens raced down the concourse. “I vote reds, greens, and yellows.”
“Uh, thanks!” Tanis called back.
<Don’t you dare…then you’ll really look like a plant.>
Tanis laughed softly to herself as she worked her way toward her terminal, wondering what Darla would do if she were to follow the girl’s advice.
Probably take control of the thing and change it back.
Passing through the Auth & Auth security arch at the entry to the ship took a bit longer than usual, as the system registered too many superconductor batteries for a single passenger—not to mention that the magnetic levitation tech messed with its ability to see through her lower teardrop shell.
The two guards managing security at the entry shared a look of consternation as a line began to form behind Tanis.
“Can you step—er…roll—over here, ma’am?” One of the guards gestured to a cordoned off area next to the Auth & Auth arch.
“Of course,” Tanis replied, a sour look forming on her face. “Will this take long?”
The man rubbed his brow, a sheepish look on his face. “Well, the scanner is getting too much interference from the magnetics in your…uh…floating teardrop thingy.”
“OK,” Tanis said, waiting for the man to propose a solution.
She knew what she’d do if someone was trying to board her ship dressed as she was, but Claire was a wealthy, paying customer, and this guard was going to have to consider his options carefully.
“So…uh, is there any chance you can just get out of it?” he asked.
Huh…I guess he did suggest what I would have made someone do. Her scowl deepened, and she shook her head. “Absolutely not! I will not undress in front of you.”
<Plus you’re not wearing anything underneath,> Darla added with a laugh.
<In hindsight, probably not the best thing to wear for boarding. I should have kept the wheels on. I’d’ve rolled right in.>
<So punny.>
“Umm…I don’t know what to do, ma’am. I can’t let you pass through the Auth & Auth if it can’t scan you.”
Tanis intertwined her tentacles. “Well this is your job. What do you propose we do?”
The man scratched his forehead, then glanced over at the machine ne
xt to him. “Well…I could put you through the cargo scanner.”
Her squeak of indignation was not faked in the least. “There is no way you’re going put me in the cargo scanner!” With each word, her voice rose in amplitude until she was nearly yelling, and the guard’s face was beet red.
“Please, ma’am, I’m sorry, I just…. Look, my supervisor has it in for me, and if I have to call her down again today, she’s going to make me do something horrible, like clean the decks with my tongue. Is there anything we can do to avoid that?”
Tanis couldn’t help but feel pity for the poor guy. The last thing she wanted to do was get some person in trouble for just doing their job.
“You can carry me.”
“Pardon?”
She gave him a wink, which the mask turned into a saucy gesture that involved half her face. “You look strong. Pick me up; I’ll turn off my magfields, and you can carry me through the Auth & Auth. Parents carry young children through, so I know it can handle two people.”
The man looked visibly relieved. “Uh…yeah, I think that just might work.”
“Just have your friend over there bring my base. I’m not going to have you lay me on the ground like some luggage afterward.” She jerked her head back to indicate the guard’s partner, who was barely holding in laughter as he waved less ridiculously attired people through the security arch.
“Terry!” the guard called out. “I’m going to need you to bring Miss Claire’s base through after her. OK?”
“Seriously, Rich? Can’t she just roll it through?” Terry called back.
“No, you idiot, the ship’s not going to let that many SC batteries just roll on. One of us has to take it through.”
“Oh, yeah.”
The first guard, Rich, approached Tanis and paused, uncertain as to where to grasp her.
She chuckled. “You’re just going to have to go for it.”
“Umm…sorry about this,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her handily constricted waist and lifted her up.
Tanis did her best not to laugh, as her steel breast pressed into the side of the poor man’s face, while he strained to lift what she estimated to be nearly one hundred and fifty kilograms, between her and her outfit.