Space Station Acheron

by F Stephan

  Tasha opened the ball, dancing a Vienna waltz with President Anaru. Elisabeth hurried to the other side of the room, casually joining other corporate leaders. Wilfried waved at Li Bao, but she turned her head away from him. Susanna was up in a gallery, shooting the opening with her drones. Wilfried took a good look at them and left the main hall for a bit of fresh air. God, I hate life planetside. Then, being honest with himself, he added silently, and politics.

  It was winter, and the evening air was sweet and fresh. This, I have missed. He walked a little farther, enjoying himself. He turned to Wolm, his silent bodyguard, who had appeared at his side. “Just around the block, no further. Commander Grayt secured the whole area, didn’t she?” This was a prison. Golden bars, but no freedom of movement.

  “There are no weapons at the perimeter. This is certain.”

  New York, even after all those years, remained a bustling hive of people, and Wilfried enjoyed that feeling. There were cafés and shops open at night, and people laughing in them. So different from our regulated life up there. We need free spaces for independent shops. Wolm walked past him without a word. Suddenly, a movement on a terrace caught Wilfried’s eye. A big thug wearing sunglasses had raised his hand swiftly, signaling to him, and dropped it an instant later. He looked closer and his heart raced in his chest. A tall blond fellow in a tailored suit sat with his back to the street. He was broad-shouldered and halfway bald, and even from behind Wilfried recognized his silhouette.

  “Let’s sit in this café. There’s a free table.” Just behind Carsten. What a coincidence. They both sat, with Wolm monitoring the surrounding streets.

  “Good evening, brother.” The words were quiet and noncommittal, but not whispered, which would have attracted attention.

  “Carsten, Chief Iakoubi will have your hide.”

  A gentle laugh. “I wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t accepted. And she will know what I said before you tell her.”

  Wilfried gasped and took control again. “Good evening, brother. How are you?”

  “Not as good as I could be. I need you to get those smugglers. They are wreaking havoc on all our operations on Earth.”

  “And you’re not taking part in this?”

  “Nanite drugs? No. I tried, mind you. But it isn’t worth the trouble. Too many security risks, not enough profit. It’s too rare, you see. The guys who are running this are very serious and businesslike, but they aren’t running a profit. I can guarantee that.”

  “Why are they doing it, then?”

  “You tell me. Aren’t you the one in charge? Find where the money goes. This is how the CPC works usually. Isn’t it, Observer?”

  “Why are you here, Carsten? Why take such a risk?”

  “I have missed you, dear brother. What else?” Missed me. You were never there. What you knew of me was only from your surveillance team. Anger swelled in Wilfried. But you sent me to school and kept me out of trouble, mostly. “I also wanted to tell you that a non-profit organization for the welfare of European orphans will support your foundation tonight.”

  Wilfried nodded. Reiner sent to help him in the station and money to support the station. Big brother, caring from the shadows. I just wished you had been more present. Yet, he could have sent his message in other ways.

  “Is that all?” he inquired cautiously.

  “Well, not entirely. I’ve sometimes had the occasion to work with an old Russian mercenary. He has a few dark deeds behind him, but he can be trusted. The Podorovski security master might recall him from his time in the army. They used to play poker together. He needs the help of your girlfriend, and from what I have gathered, he has intelligence related to your troubles. He won’t talk to anyone but your Pilot.” How does he know about us? Reiner? “I don’t want to sound presumptuous. But I would advise you to talk to him, fast.”

  “Where?”

  “No idea at all. But the security master might have an idea. With that, I’ve got to go. You’ll give my best to Reiner, won’t you?”

  Without looking at him, his brother rose, with his security team, and left the café. So much for Reiner being in disfavor. He mumbled the prayer of his childhood quickly, the one he used whenever Carsten left. Be careful, brother. Stay out of trouble. Then he reviewed the few tidbits he had learned. What will Tasha think about this?

  Tasha

  Neutral New York, February 6th, 2141

  Late in the night, after bidding farewell to the last guests, Tasha, Wilfried, and their bodyguards sat in the deserted ballroom. They had taken a side table, gathered a few plates of food from the buffet, and bottles of fresh water. All were grim. Lelal had installed a scrambler in the center of the group, isolating them from the outside world.

  “I would have thought we had collected enough money,” said Wilfried sadly. “We seemed to have so many contributors.”

  “We have a third of what we need. It’ll help, that’s for sure, but it’s not enough.” Tasha used her bracelet to run different simulations in a large 3D in the center of the dancefloor. They all sat in silence, watching the different scenarios. We are cornered. We need more support from the United Organization. Or we will have to order a shutdown. “You disappeared for a while during the party. What happened?”

  Wilfried seemed startled by her question. She didn’t want to pry, but she had seen his discomfort when he had returned.

  “I wanted some fresh air and we went for a walk with Wolm.” He paused, ill at ease. Then he took a deep breath and recounted, word for word, his meeting with his brother.

  She had known he had a shadowy past, had heard of Hamburg smuggling. She hadn’t thought the shadows would be so large. She let the information sink in before stating the obvious. “Drug smuggling is usually very profitable. But the nanite drug is not.”

  “No, apparently too much security required to handle the product, too many risks of losing your own people, and not enough product. It can only be produced under microgravity and in a confined space. Whoever sent the plant wanted only discord.”

  “But whoever did that is off-planet and did it for motives unknown. Wolm, Lelal, ideas?”

  “No, Pilot,” answered Lelal in his deep voice. “Those plants are expensive to build, and we are spending a lot of time chasing them down. Before leaving Filb, I heard rumors that the Origin sect had financed such a plant to highlight the danger of the Federation.”

  “Discord and distrust. That’s also true of the person running the traffic Earthside. Maybe linked to the Origin or just converging objectives. Anyway, we need people working in the transport sector here on Earth. And the smugglers haven’t gone into this.” New pictures appeared in the air.

  “The Cattlins? It’s going to be hard to link them to the smuggling.”

  “I’m almost certain it will be impossible. At worst, subordinates acting on their own and abusing their confidence. No direct connection.”

  “And now, to this strange news. A former colleague of Boris could help us? Someone who wants to meet and talk to me. Do you think this is a trap?”

  Wolm intervened before Wilfried could answer. “If it’s a trap, the Pilot’s brother has set himself directly in the line of fire. From what I’ve seen of him, he seems a cautious one. I don’t think it’s a trap. A dangerous meeting, certainly, though.”

  Wilfried seemed relieved by his words and nodded in approval.

  “In short, we don’t have enough money to run the station for long, and we face someone far more powerful than we are. With moles inside our operation.” Tasha watched the pictures in the air for a while before continuing. “I have to try it. We’re cornered. If we continue like this, we’re doomed.”

  Wilfried sighed and grimaced.

  “We can’t risk any direct communication about this, not to anyone. Wolm, you need to meet Commander Grayt before you return to space. I’ll use the pretext that I need to meet with Nikolai, given the current crisis on Earth, and see what I can find. On the way there, I’ll try to gather funds from Euro
pean conglomerates. That should put on a good enough show of how desperate we are.”

  “What will happen with the station?”

  Tasha looked at the party, meeting everyone’s eyes in turn. “In the meantime, Isabel Mascherano and Laureen Cattlin will ask for an audit of the station’s finances, saying that we haven’t gathered enough funds and that we are putting all lives at risk with our space activities.”

  “Are you sure?” Wilfried blurted out in surprise.

  She smiled. He’s cute when he loses control. “Yes. If not her, someone else. But she’s the perfect pawn to raise the topic to the Council. Killian should call me in the next few days to announce who will carry out the audit.” He had hinted as such before leaving the ball and, though she still distrusted the dandy, she heeded his advice.

  She turned to Wilfried. “I need you to go back and protect the station until I come back. It won’t be fun, but I need you to stand guard and make sure they don’t distort reality too much.”

  “You don’t think we can do more than limiting the lies? Can’t we tell the truth?”

  “No. Too complex for a good show. Worse, even. I’ve seen how you fled Susanna all night. You will have to face her and her lies before the end.” She continued slowly, “Not her lies, mind you. She doesn’t lie directly. She always tells some truth. With so many omissions and shortcuts, it doesn’t feel real anymore. You need to build self-sustaining evidence, shows that are so good everyone will watch them and understand what we are facing.”

  “And you are asking this of the stern guy?” Wilfried rose to leave.

  “If you can make it, everyone will heed you. Susanna has dropped hints about your past regularly. You’re not high born. The people will believe you more than me. You have to do it.” She was pleading now. Without his help, there was no way she could succeed.

  After a long silence, Wolm laughed. Slowly at first, and then faster. “I’ll help you. Part of my family runs entertainment shows on Adheek. I would never have thought their training would be useful. But I’ll help as much as I’m able.”

  Wilfried turned to him for a few minutes before walking back to Tasha, tears in his eyes. “I’ll do it. I don’t know how, but I’ll do it.”

  Anaru

  Neutral New York, February 25, 2141

  Once again, Anaru watched the proceedings of the Council from the side chamber, waiting until Rui, the speaker, called him to speak. Killian had bet him that the session would happen within two days of the charity ball. Instead, they had travelled to Brazil for the funerals of Brasilia’s victims. More than two weeks of delays for the impending doom and now the gloating Laureen Cattlin in the center of the chamber.

  “This is an interesting effort from the Pilot Tasha, but it just doesn’t work,” Laureen said. “New York was a failure and yesterday Paris was no better. Unless my esteemed colleagues from Middle China plan a surprise for us, this plan doesn’t work.” She turned, holding all of the councilors in her gaze. Anaru saw them flinch before her and bow their heads in acquiescence. “When will an independent auditor tell us how bad the situation on the station is, and what to do?”

  Killian made an effort to rise and face her. “We have sent Tasha up there for only half a year. Space projects used to take years and decades. And now, after barely a semester, you want someone else again? What for? If his report is rigged, let’s say it here and now and save some time.”

  This drew some chuckles from around the room, but they stopped immediately when Laureen opened her arms. “I suggest Lord John Burroughs. He has been supporting space activities for longer than any of us can remember. He is one of your advocates. Would this reassure you of our fair intentions?”

  To one side of Anaru, Nashiz drew in a sharp breath. “I never could stand this old fox. Is this what it was about? Taking control of the space station? Federation personal in secure compounds and a gateway to space held by our enemies.”

  “Maybe it’s not so bad. Many are playing their hands here.” Anaru continued to watch the Council, not yet called to vote.

  “Anaru, I have prepared with Commander Grayt an evacuation protocol. We can all fit into Charon and move back to Adheek. If you don’t want us here, we’ll leave.”

  Outside, clapping began as the motion was accepted on the first vote by a vast majority. Inside, cold settled over Anaru’s heart. What will happen once the Federation leaves?

  Leopold

  Kalgoorlie Station, March 1, 2141

  “The ship bringing the auditor is now on final approach to Acheron.”

  On the show, Susanna appeared to hold in her hands the station and the shuttle. The visual effect was grandiose if too extravagant for Leopold’s taste.

  “I don’t understand how it could come to this. You’ve delivered all they asked,” Sara fumed at his side. They had hidden away in the night quarters for a bit of privacy before Charon left again for the return trip.

  “The bees, Panama and the issue with funding the station. Even with the money Tasha is collecting, we will not stay active for long. An independent audit seemed a good compromise. They want to know if we are managing correctly the station.” It was hard for him to remain his usual laughing self. At least he likes space.

  Sara continued, unabated. “They already know they can’t do better than you did. You’ve found a supply of water. Food will arrive soon now. A 3D plant is producing on-site spares.”

  “It’ll be years before the station is independent enough from ground operations to meet their criteria,” answered Leopold sadly. “Anaru performed the simulations himself two months ago. We need at least five years to change the situation, probably ten.”

  Sara’s jaw clenched, and she turned her head away.

  Leopold tried to calm her. “Sweetheart. Politicians always work like this. At least it will buy us more time. From what she told me, Tasha needs to run an errand in Reborn Russia.”

  “Bad time to visit her family!” Sara retorted, not at all soothed by his words.

  Leopold gave her more room to vent her anger. “Have a little faith. She knows what she’s doing.”

  Sara gave in and returned to his embrace. Their time alone was limited, and they enjoyed every second.

  Much later, they replayed the arrival of the auditor. Lord John Burroughs exited the airlock in full traditional kimono. His appearance was so grand that most bowed or touched their knees to the ground. The welcome party comprised two lines of workers on each side. Maricar was in the middle, head bowed, offering the key to the station on a small cushion. Leopold swore inside. They even used the 3D plant to manufacture small keys. Stupid.

  Susanna’s voice boomed on the replay, an instant before the lord began his speech. “Dear watchers, please listen to the words of the esteemed auditor.”

  “Esteemed members of the crew. You’ve devoted so much effort and accomplished so much. I thank you for these keys, the symbol of your high achievement.” He bowed his head deeply before looking everyone in the eyes. “Now that you’re closer than ever to your goal, we come to audit you. It may feel weird. It may even feel unfair. And I understand you. I’m not your enemy.” That remains unclear, O powerful lord. “I’m here to make our space operations work. And for them to work, they must be supported by our planet. Our sad planet is aching. It hurts, and it needs our full attention. Today we need efficient space operations to open up our future while preserving our present. Be assured I’ll do my best to lead this operation to the wondrous development it proudly deserves. Because we all here love our blue planet, don’t we?”

  Cheers erupted in response.

  Sara wondered, “What does it mean? Is he auditing or leading?”

  Leopold was grim-faced at her side. “This is why he’s here. He’s taking control of our station under our very nose. Brilliant. Nasty, but brilliant.”

  “What? You’re not serious?”

  “Oh yes, I am. And he is. The old fox is here to take control.” Leopold zoomed in on the people standing al
ongside the auditor. “Look at his thugs. He’s here in force. When he audits, he’ll find plenty of defects. Everything that doesn’t work as it should. And they will ask him to stay and fix it.”

  “Well, we’ve got Luna, Kalgoorlie, and Charon,” Sara answered adamantly.

  “Not enough. We will starve before we can achieve anything. Environmental on Charon still isn’t stable. Noul has barely any time left to sleep, to keep us flying. We would need a good month in dock for a full repair.”

  “This is what you had planned, hadn’t you? Rana told me you needed more rest.” Her voice had grown worried again.

  Leopold shook his head. “Maybe this is the time to stop running like madmen.”

  Josh

  New Orleans, March 4, 2141

  Josh was back in the old quarter of his youth. The word ‘old’ was a farce, since it had been reconstructed twenty times in the past two centuries, protected each time by bigger dikes and succumbing again and again to the weather. He had grown up here, although no one would link that happy kid with the somber man he had become. Nostalgia. He moved on, passing through the crowded streets, avoiding pickpockets and thieves. At last, he reached what he had been looking for, a small premise to one side of the main concourse, a small electronics shop barely three yards wide.

  He pushed the door. “Anybody inside?”

  He was surrounded by a jungle of electronic spare parts of all kinds. Recycling was a necessity on Earth and finding the right piece to purchase and install had become a highly valued skill. He began checking various parts.

  A cheerful “Coming!” came from the back room. A tall, bearded man appeared behind the counter, but then he froze.

  “Salaam, Ali,” Josh said.

  The man gulped and mouthed slowly, “Salaam.”

  It was Josh who had found him, and he was extremely proud of it. The Philippines hadn’t recovered from the Islamic rift and its community would never allow the station controller, Maricar, to have a Muslim for a lover. She had taken many precautions, especially at the behest of the CPC. But Josh had been looking for an expert on very specific gears and had stumbled upon their affairs. It had been the breakthrough into the organization, allowing the better medicine that allowed him to travel so far for so long without returning to Eastern Europe.