by Paul Grover
The station grew larger and the system’s twin stars were eclipsed as the Second Chance entered the shade.
The guidance system brought them alongside a docking pier. Lights on the gantry guided Mira through the final stages of the approach. Once she had the velocity matched, she sent a command to the station’s docking system. A clamp latched onto the ship, securing the Second Chance to the pier. A shudder ran through hull and she killed the sublights.
“Connecting to shore power, air and water umbilicuses are linked,” Tish reported. “Do you want me to pay the docking and service fee now?”
Paying in advance might secure a faster turnaround time if it allowed the station to rent the berth twice in the same period.
“Yeah, let’s get it paid,” Mira replied.
They ran through the shutdown procedure with efficiency brought by experience. The ship to shore comm sprang to life.
“Go ahead Baikonur,” Tish said.
Mira watched as Tish confirmed their details before signing off.
“We’re good, they just asked for a flight plan and manifest. No mention of a ramp check,” Tish reported.
Mira sent over their fake movement log and flight plan.
“Mira,” Tish said. “We have a murmur on the reactor; it’s not a big deal, but it bothers me.”
Mira understood. It was one of the small details that got under Tish’s skin. In themselves they were not dangerous but Tish needed everything to be correct, in its place and functioning as it should.
“Do you want to fix it?” she asked. “We have the time.”
“Yeah, but I need a power regulation kit. They’re not expensive; our spares package doesn’t have one. I left mine back on the Nemesis.”
Mira pointed to the station.
“We’ll get one shore side.”
The tension in Tish’s face subsided. It was good to do something for her and they both could do with getting off the ship. Much as Mira enjoyed the company of their passengers the Second Chance felt crowded.
Mira pushed her seat back and stood. She stretched and leant on the overhead console.
“Give me and hour to freshen up and we’ll be good to go. We’ll find a flea market too.”
She kissed the top of Tish’s head turned and headed aft.
Mira reached for Tish’s hand as they left the docks and entered the station. It was hot, noisy and packed with humans from the resident and nomadic populations. The smell of street food hung pungently in the air while a million conversations in almost as many tongues combined into a solid wall of noise. Mira’s senses spun, her breathing quickened.
“You okay?” Tish asked.
“I’m good. I went travelling before I signed on with the Navy. I forgot how good it feels when you find somewhere new.” She paused. “I guess I lost myself somewhere between then and now.”
“Life,” Tish replied. “It moves too fast. Sometimes you have to step out and look around.”
Tish had changed into her standard station attire, synth leather lace up jeans and ornate high boots. She tempered the outfit with a simple black shirt. Mira saw the attention she attracted and how Tish’s confidence was fuelled from it.
She looked at her own black jeans and t-shirt, only her battered jacket expressed any kind of individuality. Who am I?
“Tish,” she asked, nervously.
Tish stopped and took Mira’s other hand.
“We can go back to the ship if you want; I understand this is hard for you.”
“No… really it’s fine.” Mira paused. “Tish, when we have picked up the parts we need, can you help me… buy clothes?”
“Yeah! I was going to anyway; you’re a mess. No offence.”
“I’m just tired of looking like a fleet-brat or a cargo hauler. I just don’t know what to do. The Navy supplied my outfits for years. In my teens I did the whole Rocket Punk thing; guess I’m too old for that now.”
Mira blushed, remembering the heavy black eye makeup her mother hated, the red highlights in her hair and her knee-high boots. It was a style ill-suited to the Namib desert.
Fuck, I loved those boots, almost as much as my JetSuit, she thought.
“You are never too old for Rocket Punk!” Tish said in serious tone. “Don’t worry, I have ideas… lots of ideas. You have just given me more!”
They walked on, pushing their way through the main concourse, heading spinward toward a commercial district. Unlike Tarantella, Baikonur’s retail sector comprised high end consumer outlets. Polished steel and tinted glass were the norm instead of the haphazard collection of stalls and hawkers. The clientele were similar, freighter jockeys rubbing shoulders with passengers from star liners bound for the Frontier. This was a border post, the point where the Core Systems met the Frontier, their flavours mingled and became something eclectic.
Tish led Mira to a map. She tapped in a search and downloaded the location to her personal datapad.
“This is too upmarket for what we need… there’s a used parts market three levels down. We have to cut through the entertainment hub. There’s also a bazaar; we can stock up.”
Tish pulled her forward.
“Come on!”
Mira was happy for Tish to lead. She confidently cut through the crowd, flicking off hawkers with a smile, a friendly word, and sometimes a joke.
Suddenly, Mira found herself alone as Tish disappeared into the crowd.
A hand fell on her shoulder, interrupting her thoughts. A woman shrieked when she turned. The woman was old and her clothing tattered; her face red through extended substance abuse. She smelt sickly. In her hand she clutched a leather-bound bible.
Mira stepped back.
“Beast!” the woman screamed at her. Droplets of spit hit Mira's face and she flinched away.
“I don’t know you…” Mira stammered.
“Soulless whore! Abomination. Bornless one, scarlet angel… child of demons. I can see it in you. Harbinger of the end times.”
Mira stepped back, her hands shaking.
“I’m sorry… I…”
Tish seemed to have vanished. The world spun.
The woman was on her again. In her hand she brandished a silver crucifix. “I will cast you out. Burn you with my holy cross. As I am his witness.”
A pair of station security officers grabbed the old woman, one of them escorting her away.
“I am sorry, Miss. She has been bothering visitors for a week. She never breaks any laws so all we can do is move her on. Please accept our apologies. I hope it does not impact on your stay with us on Baikonur.” He turned and followed his colleague.
Tish took her hand. Mira reeled from her encounter with the crazy woman.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I spoke to a guy who gave me a name of someone to see.”
Mira was unable to form words.
“You need a beer,” Tish said. “Come on!”
Mira didn’t catch the name of the bar Tish dragged her into. As the door swung open she was hit by a barrage of noise. Music slammed her hard in the face. Mira’s clothes moved to the rumbling bass. Her ribs vibrated and adrenalin pumped into her system.
The room was circular with booths lining the walls, tables and chairs closer to the stage. A band was playing old style guitars that roared through Marshall stacks as loud as they were ancient. Soaring soprano vocals overlaid the growling music.
Mira could vaguely make out lyrics of stars, isolation and despair.
“Holy fuck, Tish. What is that?”
“’Tier Metal!” Tish yelled over the noise. “I love it! It’s awesome. Haven’t you heard it before? It’s getting popular in the Core Systems.”
“I’m not surprised,” Mira replied. “They can probably bloody hear it!”
Tish’s laughter was lost in the music as she led Mira to a booth and engaged the noise cancellation system. The volume of the music dropped as the attenuator circuit went to work.
A waiter came and Tish ordered. He returned a few minute
s later with two bottles of Belt King and two shot glasses of blue spirit. Mira leant back, her eyes watering in the potent vapour evaporating from the glass.
“Rocket fuel,” Tish explained. “Three… two… one…” She tossed the shot back. Mira followed her.
The liquid burned all the way down, a fierce chemical fire that rivalled the re-entry temperature of a Cobra’s wing tips. A warm afterglow built in her belly and her world shuddered.
“Fuck me!” she said, after she caught her breath.
Mira signalled to the waiter and ordered another six shots.
This time she counted down and beat Tish to it. Mira needed it, wanted it. It was like shore leave. She had been on ships for too long.
“That woman… what if she was onto something… I wasn’t born was I?”
Tish peered at her from over her beer bottle. Her cheeks were flushed.
“How could she know? She’s just a standard issue crazy person. On Tarantella there was a guy who would do Kung Fu moves in the Medina. Another fella would stand outside Norm’s and bark like a dog; he would only go away when Norm threw him a ball. I don’t understand how they get out this far; I guess the ships they are on abandon them when they get too crazy.”
Mira shrugged. Tish was right… but her unease lingered like the booze buzz.
“The words she used Tish… Scarlet Angel? Born of Demons?”
Tish took her hands.
“All god squaders say shit like that; it’s in their storybook thing.”
“The Bible?” Mira giggled.
“Yeah that one and the other one. You don’t believe any of it do you? I know a few people do.”
Aside from the basics of the remaining religions, she knew little of spiritual matters. Amy had been one for Buddhism when it suited her.
She sipped her beer.
“I asked Hoff to look at the battle analysis of the Mizarma engagement,” Mira said eventually.
Tish raised an eyebrow but made no reply.
“I just want to know I did the right thing… killing the carrier… it weighs on me.”
“You did fine, Mira. Hoff will tell you the same. He is fond of you. He told me some stories. You were not the best of his students.”
Mira raised her beer bottle in a toast.
“I most definitely was not; something I will be forever proud of.”
They sat in silence, enjoying each other’s company.
“I want to know a secret… tell me something about you I don’t know.” Tish whispered.
Mira sat and thought. She had many secrets and Tish was the only person she would share them with.
“I dunno… like what?”
Tish chewed on her bottom lip as she pondered what to ask.
“Girlfriends?”
"Five… including you. One serious… you know about her… one I wasn't supposed to be serious about. The others were space flings. Lots of meaningless one-night nonsense too… I’m not proud of that. Oh and I once kissed Monica. We were drunk. I puked on her just after.”
Tish shrieked and covered her mouth, her cheeks coloured as she glanced from side to side.
"Boyfriends?"
“I had one once, when I was a kid. I didn’t know which way my compass pointed so I did what my friends were doing.”
Mira pushed Tish a glass of rocket fuel and counted down. She slammed the empty glass onto the table with such force the galaxy shook.
“What about you?” Mira asked, all too aware of the slur creeping into her voice.
“A few… station life doesn't make for long relationships. A few boys, a few girls… threesomes were a thing for a while.”
Mira put her bottle down, her eyes wide. “No way!”
Tish shrugged, bit her lip and gave Mira an abashed look
“I’m shocked. I mean doing it when someone else is watching…” Mira said, her cheeks burning.
Tish tried to remain serious.
“They’re not usually watching Mira…” A blush finally made it into Tish’s cheeks. She laughed. Mira joined her; it escaped as a loud drunken cackle.
“That was crazy station shit. It’s behind me now. Past is past, tomorrow starts today!” Tish said. “I still can’t believe you were a Rocket Punk…” she added as her words drifted away on a tide of drunkenness.
Two glasses of Rocket Fuel remained. Tish put her hand to one and started a countdown.
“Wait,” Mira said. She giggled. “Fuck, I’m so pissed!” She finally calmed herself with a deep breath.
“Here’s to us,” Mira said raising her glass in a toast.
“To love,” Tish added.
“And everything we’ll fuck up!” Mira threw her drink back and sunk into the chair as a comfortable numbness ebbed into her body. She closed her eyes and felt the vibration of the music through the chair. She leant forward and took Tish’s hand. “Thank you,” she said.
They sat in silence. The Berlin and her troubles were so far behind her. It was the now that mattered.
They paid the bill and left, heading for the bazaar.
The old woman was ranting at another young girl.
“See, you’re not the only chosen one today,” Tish said.
One of the girl’s companions stepped forward and punched the crazy woman in the face; she dropped to the deck unconscious.
Mira stepped forward, anger rising. The man was tall, young and muscled.
“He didn’t need to hit her…”
Tish took her arm.
“Not our fight…”
Mira brushed her off and ran toward them, unsure if it were outrage or booze that fuelled her bravery. Station security dragged the young man away, his girlfriend protesting loudly.
Mira knelt.
The old woman stirred and opened her eyes. Mira helped her to a sitting position.
“Are you okay?” Mira asked. “He didn’t need to hit you.”
The woman put her hand to her face and touched it gently. There was a sadness in her eyes and no hint of recognition.
“I’m fine, thank you. Will you help me up, my angel?”
Mira helped her stand. She knelt and picked up the bible. It was bound in worn black leather, a gold cross embossed on the cover. The drunk part of her brain was amused the holy book did not erupt into flame in response to her touch.
She gave it to the crazy woman, who took it with a smile.
“Thank you, dear, you are an angel, doing God’s work in this godless place.”
Mira turned away and walked to Tish.
“She didn’t recognise you… you’re no more the whore of whatever than I’m… I forget,” Tish said. A puzzled frown knotted her brow.
Mira bought a pair of detox vaposols from a stall. She handed one to Tish before breaking the seal on her own.
She sat watching the world moving around her, feeling warm and insulated from the sights and sounds.
“Seems a shame to kill the buzz,” she mumbled before she inhaled.
Tish popped her vape. The red glow receded from her cheeks.
They sat in silence while the vapes converted the alcohol in their systems to water and less intoxicating compounds.
“Come on, let’s buy some spare parts,” Mira said, as the drunkenness fell to a more manageable level. A vague headache gathered behind her eyes.
They boarded an escalator and travelled down three levels. They threaded through a maze of corridors. Baikonur Station soon lost its sheen; the glitzy boutiques were replaced by open fronted stores where bored proprietors leant on their counters or tapped on grubby terminals. It was darker here. Tired yellow lighting cast a sickly glow that allowed the shadows to linger. The air smelt different too. Machine oil and solvents came in wafts as the air scrubbers stirred the atmosphere. The engineering workshop in the Mariner Barracks had a similar smell.
“There,” Tish said. She pointed to a booth at the far end of the row. It had a purple neon sign that read:
Big Jay’s Used Parts - If Jay ain’t got
it, you don’t need it!
“A guy told me to see Jay. He’s more honest than most,” Tish said, leading Mira to the counter.
A large man was sitting in a swivel chair comprising twenty percent foam and eighty percent duct tape. He regarded them coolly and did not rise from his seat.
“Hi,” Tish said with a smile.
The man grunted.
“Are you Jay?” she asked.
He pulled himself upright. He wore dirty orange overalls with a Zimmerman Gas Company logo on the pocket.
“I need some parts and well… your sign is cool.”
“Jay is for Jarrod. You can call me Jay and anything I haven’t got in stock I can source it in twenty-four hours.”
“What you just head down to the docks and see what you can find?” Mira asked.
He glared at her. Tish’s boot connected with her shin.
“Don’t worry about my assistant, she doesn’t do jokes well. She’s also a drunk.”
Jay shrugged and leant on the counter, one hand hovering over the keyboard on his terminal.
“So Miss, what’s it going to be?”
“I’m looking for a Power Reg Kit for a Kobo MKII Variant A.”
“License built or OEM?”
“I was hoping you might have a Sirius Dynamics kit.”
The man raised an eyebrow. Tish was saying all the right things.
Jay’s fat hand rattled the keyboard. He glanced sideways at the screen.
“Can’t do you a Sirius. I have a Carlin; just as good and cheaper too.”
“Carlin is fine; can you supply me with a new set of pads, filters and linkages? I figure if I have to pull the coupling I may as well do it right.”
More tapping.
“Yeah… you know your stuff. You should hear some things I get asked for.” He smiled.
“8,500 all in.”
Mira was about to reach for her credit disk.
“Too much,” Tish said. “Think I should shop around.”