[NP1513 Hovercraft System AI: level 1 access granted]
[Bypassing the monitoring system with loop footage]
[Accessing surveillance footage]
The droid successfully hacked the hovercraft system and began sending the visual data to my optical implant, while hiding my tracks in the system. Old hovercrafts, like the NP1513, made it easy to cover up hacking traces.
Several pictures of a black hovercraft had been following us from the parking garage mall. It looked like any common working class hovercraft, not the fancy types with insignias.
[Accessing controls… switching navigational route]
I used the tactic of switching to a less optimal but busy route to find out if someone was following me.
[Target visual locked on]
A black hovercraft came into view on the side of my vision.
I glanced at the light reflecting off the metal and glass surfaces of the large mega-skyscrapers and malls onto the interior of the taxi as it changed lanes from the highway into the nearest exit into a busy road full of shopping pedestrians spilling onto the hovercraft landing lanes.
The smooth ride soon turned into a stop-and-start jerky movement as the taxi hovercraft adjusted the direction to avoid the jay walkers.
However, the black hovercraft disappeared from view.
[Target Visual lost: Target not following]
The droid confirmed the good news.
Maybe it's paranoia on my part. I recalled the droid back to me via the neural link. The tiny metallic crawler squeezed through the minute opening of the barrier and crawled towards me on the ground.
I pretended to drop something to pick the droid up from the ground. Another sudden stop-jerk bumped my head only against the lower padded portion of the barrier.
I fixed the droid on my ear again before looking up at the chaotic foot traffic in front of us. Pedestrians weaved through the hovercrafts to cross or get around the busy pavements.
Patience was never my strength.
Ramming through them and speeding to The Durgema crossed my mind.
The wait for the pedestrians to clear the path for the hovercrafts lining in front made traffic move agonisingly slowly at the glacial speed.
Piloting a war cruiser in space trumps being be stuck in a damn hovercraft on a busy planet.
I rested my arm against the window and looked at the changing electronic billboards on the buildings.
Ads for useless products by models of different species, the occasional condolences to the Inti, news broadcasts on the galactic quadrant plastered the billboards.
Yet another major space piracy incident in some far off planetary system, space ship crashes, arrival of delegates on the news broadcast are the norm on Eden.
Once night fell, the countless neon signs and projected ads lit up Eden. Light pollution remained a problem in Eden and was visible from space.
Being unable to watch the stars and the cosmos made me miserable. My eyes, used to the cosmic darkness, made it painful to face the orange star's light in the day.
I adjusted my sunglasses once it slipped down my nose. Can't wait for Eden to turn dark during night falls. The traffic jam delayed the hovercraft from reaching The Durgema quickly.
***
"Arriving at The Durgema," the android announced as we approached the covered entrance of a large squarish sparkling building with another queue of taxi hovercrafts and luxury hovercrafts in front of us. Doormen stood in smart rows waiting to accompany clients.
A large artificial waterfall cascaded through the transplanted rocks from some mountain on the side of the entrance, creating an illusionary grandeur. They must have expanded the waterfall, because it looked much taller now.
Durgians viewed water as a sacred luxury. The richer the Durgian, the bigger the waterfalls are at their establishment.
Beneath the opulent facade in the building, The Durgema held the record of the shadiest commercial deals made in any venue on Eden.
After all, the rich grew richer from exploitation of the working classes and desperate poor. Slaves probably moved the transplanted rocks on the waterfall display.
Resources of the quadrant and gems flowed through dirtied hands like the waterfall.
The options limited me to a Haolean controlled hotel or a Durgian one. Both equally unpalatable.
However, the Haolean hotels installed a lot more spying bugs which had to be disabled than The Durgema.
"Thank you for your custom," the android turned around with its loose jaw.
The taxi hovercraft moved to a stop as a smartly dressed doorman, a typical Durgian with the classic Durgian flame-like birthmark on their forehead, moved up to my door and stood at the side.
I noticed a large intricate wood carving over the entrance which displayed The Durgema's name in Haolean script.
My hand rummaged for a special card in my pocket and pulled it out. Mercenaries with known high-level dealings owned this special encoded card with the serpent-like hologram logo of the Nuwan Imperium.
Old Rong gifted me this card, a symbol of transferable permanent membership to the top tier club of The Durgema, because he knew I liked to change identities as a mercenary.
I was lucky to have a Nuwan Imperium Chancellor as a friend.
The android's jaw swung precariously to one side as it said "Thank you" upon opening the door.
The doorman raised his eyebrow at the disturbing sight of the android. Before he could open his mouth, I showed him the card.
A fake toothy dental perfect smile broke over his face.
"Welcome to The Durgema, please follow me. I will lead the way," he said as he ushered me into the waiting entrance.
The doorman bowed after recognising the emblem of the card and tapped on his communicator badge to inform the others in Durgian.
He mumbled into the communicator about disallowing the 'disgraceful' taxi from picking up customers of The Durgema.
Unlike the Haoleans, the space gypsies never offered half broken equipment. The Durgians viewed it as an insult to be offered the use of faulty items. Android included.
He ushered me into the extravagant lobby with high ceilings decked in yellow aurum plated metal decor.
I spotted the large hovering chandelier made of rare Deridian crystals mounted on yellow matted aurum to match the opulence.
The chandelier hovered above all of us via an electromagnetic mechanism within its central base and the floor.
A large, round pool with running fountains stood in the middle of the lobby.
The ordinary guests did their check ins at the ground floor reception area. I was the only one accompanied by the doorman past the elevators for ordinary hotel guests and mall visitors.
He led me down into a more opulent entrance carved out of marbled stone. A small stand with a security pad stood beside the bluish forcefield.
"The concierge will meet you at the penthouse for registration," he said, before leaving my side.
I placed the card on the pad. A reddish anti- intrusion forcefield rose from the floor to the ceiling behind me, sealing off the area to prevent anyone from following me in.
If anyone tried to force their way through the reddish forcefield, it would zap them with at least enough electricity to stun them.
Circular laser beams rotated around my body for identity verification and vanished.
"Welcome, Temari of Deridia. We completed verification. Our club specials today include a complimentary buffet and a seasonal à la carte," a polite female's voice spoke from the ceiling while the bluish forcefield dropped, allowing me to enter the entrance.
Club specials referred to high-level specialized work, often on behalf of either a mega corporation or some dingy government. Payment matched the number of expected problems encountered or duration to carry out the jobs. Work ranged widely from hacking a system, more of commercial espionage, or high-level assassinations.
Buffet meant plenty of jobs on offer and the seasonal à la carte was the code for time limited contractual work.
"Is the buffet open or closed?"
The female was probably new to the Durgian mercenary secret language.
I remembered my first time dealing with their codes - I actually expected food. Nothing like the good old memories of entering the mercenary life as a noob.
Receptionists of The Durgema usually announced the type of 'buffet' without prompting.
"Open," she replied.
I smirked.
'Open buffets' are a mercenary's market. Too many jobs, too few mercenaries. One could afford to be choosy with the listed jobs.
Closed meant an interview with the clientele or a middleman to select the choice person for the job.
I walked through the dimly lit entranceway into the waiting elevator, wondering about the types of job on offer.