Curse of the Iris by Jason Fry Page B

handing the key card back. “If you return here with the current Captain Hashoone, or proof that the captaincy has been dissolved, we will be happy to further explore your request. Have a nice day.”
    â€œBut we just waited in that line for an hour and a half!” Carlo exclaimed.
    The flesh-and-blood half of Huff’s face was now purple.
    â€œWithout the current Captain Hashoone, I cannot proceed. Please stand aside.”
    â€œBut this is ridiculous!” Carlo sputtered.
    â€œWe of course welcome customer feedback on our operating principles and business procedures. Please ask our lobby AI for a comment form.”
    Tycho was tucking the key card back in his pocket and so missed Huff’s lunge for the teller’s throat. He fell short by a centimeter or two, and his metal hand clanged on the imitation marble. The other tellers’ heads snapped around to stare at the disturbance.
    â€œGrandpa, don’t!” Yana yelped.
    â€œBankers!” roared Huff, taking another swipe at the teller. “Biggest swindlers in the universe, the whole wretched lot of yeh! At least when pirates try to rob yeh, yeh gets to shoot ’em!”
    Guardsmen rushed in from either side of the screen, black batons raised.
    â€œArrr, I’ve seen better service from a Martian royal executioner,” Huff said. “Now c’mere, you dirty bilge rat! I’m gonna tear that fancy glass off yer eye an’ jam it—”
    Tycho jumped in front of the guardsmen, hands raised, but they shoved him aside and grabbed Huff from behind.
    â€œWait!” Tycho yelled. “Let me talk to him!”
    Huff flailed in the guards’ grip, the socket of his forearm cannon twitching madly. The Hashoones watched helplessly as he was dragged off, foul oaths echoing through the bank.
    â€œShouldn’t we go with them?” Tycho asked. “Grandpa’s power indicators were flashing yellow—what if his cybernetic systems run out of power?”
    â€œThey have recharge ports in the Ceres lockup,” Carlo said. “He’s been hooked up to them before. I’d better send a message to Mom.”
    The teller adjusted his monocle.
    â€œUnless one of you also intends some ludicrous outburst, please step aside and allow other customers to attend to their affairs.”
    â€œWhy don’t you kids move it already?” someone growled behind them.
    Defeated, the Hashoones stepped out of line.
    â€œHave a nice day,” the teller said.
    Diocletia looked tired when she and Mavry arrived, and her children’s competing explanations of what had happened only made her look more tired.
    â€œWelcome back to the Bank of Ceres, Captain Hashoone and First Mate Malone,” the AI said as they entered the vestibule. “We are—”
    â€œZip it,” Diocletia said, striding past the screen.
    To Tycho’s relief, the customers had thinned out with the end of the business day approaching—only eight people were in line.
    â€œAre you sure Grandpa will be okay?” Yana asked Mavry.
    Their father smiled. “Oh, by now he’s having a grand time telling his cellmates how he forced the entire bank to beg for mercy.”
    â€œIs he going to be in a lot of trouble?” Tycho asked.
    â€œA moderate amount,” Mavry said. “I doubt there’s anyone on this dismal little planet who hasn’t fantasized about strangling a Bank of Ceres teller.”
    â€œI’ve certainly considered it,” Diocletia muttered.
    After a few minutes, the teller who’d debated with Carlo earlier indicated they should step forward. Diocletia approached, boot heels ringing. The teller mutely extended a hand, and she placed the key card in his fingers.
    â€œIdentity scan complete, Captain Hashoone,” the teller said. “And registration lookup verifies your status as current captain of the Shadow Comet with rights stipulated according to the Collective