Chapter Forty - Creative Kleptomania

Chapter Forty - Creative Kleptomania

Chapter Forty - Creative Kleptomania

"Samurai technology might very well be the most valuable thing in the world right now. But humanity is catching up. It's not fast, but it's consistent, and the more time we spend breaking down their alien tech, the faster we learn basic principles that will allow humanity to catch up, and eventually surpass, the Protectors.

Just give us a few years, a decade at most, and we will turn this world into a utopia!"

--Professor Henry, MIT, 2031

***

Predictably, the PMCs knew nothing.

In fact, they seemed willfully ignorant. They were not remembering a lot of things, and that was probably my fault.

I had questioned the group together. Once one of them insisted he couldn't even remember how long he'd been working at this location for, or what his hours were like, or how much he was being paid, the others decided to join in on the rapid forgetfulness, especially when it became clear that I wasn't going to shoot them for not giving me the answers I wanted.

It was frustrating, but at the same time, more or less understandable.

They were very insistent that they didn't know what they were defending, and I was even inclined to believe them. Myalis tapped into their augs and was able to confirm that none of them had been any deeper into the warehouse than the first dozen metres past the entrance.

That left one avenue to discover what this place was hiding, and that was checking it out myself.

Of course, I obviously assumed that the place was boobytrapped out the ass. If whomever had set this up could afford private contractors this well-equipped, then they could afford a few grenades and some string, or a few more complex options.

"I don't want to go in there," I admitted to Gomorrah.

She eyed the interior of the warehouse. "I can't pick up any obvious traps. But I also don't have anything designed for picking out traps in the first place, and I don't think traps would set off my thermals."

"So, options?" I asked.

"Get trap-disarming equipment?" Gomorrah proposed.

I took a deep breath, then shook my head. "Expensive, I bet. And I don't have a big supply of fresh points I want to spend on this. The electronics for my augs to see traps might be fairly cheap, but then again, they might not cover everything."

"So we send in some of these PMCs one at a time? We have... a decent number of them."

"Wow," I said. "That's... really fucking cold."

Gomorrah paused, then nodded. "You're right. That is a rather uncharitable way to treat people. And a war crime."

I nodded along, then started moving people back and away from the warehouse. I didn't think that it was actually a danger, but... well, better safe than sorry.

The cat stared at the keypad for a good long while before it went green, then the big door slid open.

Inside was... an airlock. The cat stepped in, then waited while it cycled.

I suspect that the gas the room is filled with is lethal to humans. Though it might not be on purpose.

"How's that?" I asked.

I suspect that it's pure nitrogen. But I don't have proper analysis systems on the drone.

"Then what makes you think it's nitrogen?" I asked.

The drone pointedly stared at a large pipe with the word ARGON painted on its side.

"Oh." I scratched at my neck. "Why nitrogen?"

"Argon doesn't react to very much," Gomorrah said. "It's non-flammable, and non-explosive. Probably relatively cheap as well. If you're going to preserve things, then it's maybe not the best choice, but it's not far from it. And it makes the air lethal to breathe, but if it leaks, it won't be that big of a problem as long as there's good ventilation in the space around it."

Well, this operation was looking more and more expensive by the minute.

The inner airlock door opened, and the cat drone walked into a large room that seemed to take up most of the space of this inner building. The cat stopped a few steps in and scanned its head around.

I stared.

The room had a wall covered in cubbies with glass doors. I could see all sorts of random trash in there. The rest of the room was a sort of factory space. Large robotic arms hanging from the ceiling, multiple workstations with more remote-controlled systems. Lots of hanging cameras.

"Myalis, what the hell am I looking at?"

Surprisingly, Gomorrah answered first. "It's a deconstruction space. They're taking things apart."

"Why?" I asked.

I noticed one table had a prosthetic leg on it, held in place between two vices. Small robotic arms were frozen in the act of taking off one of the plastic-like coverings.

It seems as if we've discovered a reverse-engineering lab.

***