by Matt Thomas
He should have gathered his things and made his way down the stairs to the main hatch. Instead, Lind sat, thinking nothing, seeing nothing, waiting for the reverberation of the closing hanger door and the creaking of the pressure outside rose. There was no need to wait. The hanger pressurized quickly enough, but Lind still struggled to stand up, to make productive movements. The visit to the Marlin, the approach to the planet, both kept his mind occupied just enough he didn't dwell on the memory of watching a meteorite tear through his friend. The pause in the action, brief as it was, pulled him back into the darkness. Only once the green lights came on could he pull himself upright and prepare to do his job. A pair of men, both wearing dark gray jumpsuits, the stylized water molecule of the Qinlin Mining logo covered in fine dust, waited for him as he lumbered down the steps.
"Agent Michaels?" One, a balding man with glasses atop his head, cautiously guessed as though the identification painted on the side of the Mako wasn't enough to confirm Lind's identity.
More out of apathy than ill intent, Lind wordlessly showed them his credentials. Taken aback by his rudeness, the bald man stuttered before continuing. "I'm Administrator Jia here. I'm sorry to hear about Mr. Rykov."
Lind half-heard the words as he followed the two men into the cramped corridor on the other side of the hanger. Most of the lighting worked inside the structure, but cargo and supplies shoved through the hanger tunnel had badly beaten its walls. Their footsteps echoed down the corridors, giving the facility an under-populated atmosphere.
"What can you tell me about him?" Lind asked, wondering where they were headed.
"I'm afraid we will be of little help. Mr. Rykov was only here for about fifteen minutes."
That stopped Lind in his tracks and broke him from his silence. "Fifteen minutes? His manifest said he came from one of the Jovian moons. That's a long haul."
"Yes, sir." The administrator enthusiastically nodded his head. "He landed, we brought him the cargo, and he took off again. We offered him food and a shower, but he only left his Marlin long enough to sign the paperwork and pick up the package." Lind stared at the man in disbelief for a few moments. Traditionally, even the express couriers would stretch their legs, have a meal, and spend the night in gravity. Lind couldn't imagine traveling for days in a ship as small as a Marlin, only to put your feet on the ground for such a brief time.
"Tell me about the package you shipped. That wasn't cheap to send it by Marlin." Lind took continued down the corridor in the only available direction until Jia stepped passed him to guide towards the administrative section of the facility.
"We didn't pay to have it shipped. Ephemeris did that for us." The administrator corrected.
They arrived at what Lind presumed to be Jia's office. Only four bulkheads with a desk crammed with displays and a few hard-copy pieces of paperwork, it had a window with a spectacular view of the moon's surface. Deep ruts gouged by the surveying equipment, tractors, and other machines criss-crossed between buildings and storage tanks. The landscape remained still in the microgravity and vacuum, like Lind looked at a photograph. Little sound resonated through the station. Everything was peaceful.
"Ephemeris paid to have it shipped?" Lind leaned against the desk, unable to decipher the mass of Chinese characters scrolling along the computer screen.
"Yes, sir."
"Via Marlin courier?"
"Yes, sir."
"What the hell was it?"
The little man looked at his coworker and shrugged. "I don't know." The raised eyebrows, the eye contact, everything confirmed for Lind the statement's truth. "One of our Combs broke about a week ago. Something got caught in its teeth, the tooth snapped, and the entire mechanism froze up."
"They design those things to sift through hundreds of cubic meters of dirt and rock a day." Lind replied, more to himself as he tried to wrap his mind around something breaking a technology specifically designed to be unbreakable. "They build them to crush through ice. They test them by chucking granite boulders into the scoops. What the hell broke it?"
"I don't know." Jia repeated. "We called Ephemeris to get it repaired. They wanted us to get them the broken piece itself as quickly as possible, and they sent Mr. Rykov here immediately, and a larger freighter to pick up the Comb itself."
"They wanted to know what could do that kind of damage."
Jia shrugged. "I assume."
Whatever piece of detritus lying just beneath the surface could be worth billions to a company like Ephemeris. Or a company aiming for Ephemeris.
"Where did the Comb break?"
Jia pointed towards the white horizon of the moon. "It was very far out, almost to the Cassini Regio. It was gathering hydrogen cyanide."
"What did it look like?"
Jia gave him a puzzled expression.
"The thing that broke the Comb."
Jia shrugged. "The whole Comb looked like a broken machine. I don't know what belonged or what didn't. I'm not an engineer."
"Who is?"
"On the Combs? Only the Ephemeris techs."
The Ephemeris techs, Lind knew from experience, would be reluctant to help. Besides, if Ephemeris had people locally capable of handling the damage and repair, they would not have sent both a currier and a bulk freighter to carry the components back to a facility. "I assume you completed some kind of incident report for Ephemeris about the damage."
"We did." Jia motioned to his assistant, who held out a memory stick. "Everything is here, although it's not much more than we told you. Our techs said it broke, they had no idea why, and they had no idea what caused the failure."
"Did they really not know or did they pretend not to know?"
The assistant piped up, much to his supervisor's visible annoyance. "When the Comb broke, every tech in the facility wanted to have a look. They were still trying to figure it out when the Marlin showed up."
"The techs wanted to solve the problem without sending it to Ephemeris?"
"That's correct."
"And they had no idea."
"That's correct."
"Let me see the tapes." Lind said. Neither Jia nor his assistant made any movement, they stood in the office, perplexed. "The security tapes from the hanger during the transfer. Let me see them."
Jia's assistant looked to his boss for confirmation before sitting down at a keyboard of Chinese symbols alien to Lind.
The screen flickered into the impersonal, bird's-eye image of the hanger Lind had just left. Rykov was barely recognizable with his head intact as he stepped out of the Marlin. He stretched, looked around, and then checked his tablet. Two men waited for him, Jia included. The recording's sound captured more engine noise from the idling shuttle than it did the mumbled conversation. They spoke in English, both all parties using a mutual second language as per the typical trade practice. Rykov politely refused offers of hospitality. Fuel handlers dragged hoses up to the Marlin with respect and awe for the interplanetary speed demon. The pilot stretched his legs, enjoying the relatively open air of the hanger while gas poured into his thirsty ship.
Lind waited in real time rather than fight with the screen operator over which portions were important. Besides, reviewing the entire video was the right thing to do, whether he admitted it or not. After minutes of awkward silence as Jia stood behind him, arms crossed, waiting impatiently, something changed on the screen.
Someone, Lind couldn't see who it was, other than they were not Chinese, brought a box out to Rykov. The box itself was small, non-descript. The black, hard-plastic shell could have been any other of hundreds of thousands of cases floating around the solar system, protecting small, fragile, and typically expensive parts and components. Slightly larger than a shoe box, Rykov could easily carry it himself, although he seemed surprised at its weight. They exchanged some words, and Lind could make out a perplexed "this is it?" The pilot shrugged and carried his precious cargo back to the Marlin. He signed for the package without another word other than perfunctory gratitude.
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On the screen, Jia, his assistant, and the white man whose face had been concealed by the camera, all walked swiftly out of the hanger. The pilot never reemerged, except to thank the fuel slingers disconnecting their hoses and check their work in a brief inspection of the ship. The hanger cleared and went red as it depressurized. Lind stopped the tape once the Marlin's engines shook.
"Who was the guy who brought in the box?"
Jia shrugged.
"You don't know?" Lind prodded.
"He doesn't work for me. I don't know everyone on this facility. The repair crews said the piece was on its way, and that guy brought it. I don't need to know anything else about who they picked to send it over."
Lind stared at the man until he decided that the administrator lacked the dedication to know something about everyone
"I'm going to need a copy of this." He demanded. While they burned the data to a memory card, he reversed the tape, freezing on the hand-off. He zoomed in as far as the technology would allow. The box was scuffed and battered. A wide strip of orange tape sealed the container shut. Otherwise, there was nothing remarkable. He didn't recall seeing it anywhere on the Marlin he left in orbit. Even with such a small size, the orange tape and type of container would have stood out on the small courier ship.
"You said they're shipping the rest of the Comb separately? Is it still here?"
Jia exchanged an uncomfortable glance with his subordinate. "We shipped it out two days ago."
"I don't understand. I thought they were going to be shipped separately."
"They were. A Guppy came by late last night and picked it up."
Lind thought about the ridiculous expense of two separate shipments for what were effectively the same part going to the same Ephemeris facility. "So they had the Marlin come first, at ridiculous expense, and then a Guppy came by a few hours later?
Jia shrugged. "The Guppy called shortly after Mr. Rykov left and said they would pick up the Comb. They left maybe thirty hours ago, heading for the Ephemeris plant near Io."
"You remember the name of the Guppy?"
Jia shook his head, but then reached down and scrolled on the computer. "The Natalia? At least, that's what I put in my notes when they called."
"There's not a log of them docking?"
Jia stared quizzically at Lind. "It's a Guppy. It didn't dock. A drone towed the freight up to it. I'm surprised I even wrote down the name."
Lind stared at the screen. He began to get tired. The novelty of the murder investigation faded, and his mood had begun to slide without the distraction. He thought about returning to Norse station, not for the Marlin but for a drink and sleep. Two seconds of thinking about that was all he needed. He snatched the memory stick from the computer and stood so abruptly the two administrators involuntarily took a step back.
"Thanks. I'll let you know if I need anything else." He brushed past them towards the corridor.
"Is... is there anything else we can do?" Jia stammered as he tried to catch up.
"Nope."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
Being surrounded by strangers in a strange facility became abhorrent. Lind needed to get back to the comfort of his room on his ship, and he surged across the hanger to make that happen. Already, he thought about sleeping for the duration of the trip back to Norse Station. The autopilot could take care of most of it. Sure he'd have to be sober by the time he got within the approach, but he had time before then. Halfway to the ship, his hosts still lagging, he realized that he should have stuck his head in the mess hall and eaten some lo mein before he left. The Qinlin facilities always had the best food. The thought lasted for two strides while he considered turning around, but momentum carried him forward as appetite lost to the desperate need for the comfort of familiar surroundings.
Lind didn't raise his eyes from the ground until he was nearly at the ramp to his ship. When he looked up, a rail-thin man with thick, curly hair and the thin beard of someone trying to prove they had facial hair blocked his path with a pair of over-stuffed duffel bags. He was not Chinese and wore the light blue jump suit of one of the Ephemeris techs he had been discussing only moments earlier. The professionalism drained from Lind, and, barely holding himself together, the only thing that registered was a man stood between him and his way to escape.
"Hey man, I heard you're heading towards Jupiter. Is there any way I could catch a ride?" The worker blocked his path, so that Lind had to spend energy he didn't have to avoid the man.
Lind stopped in his tracks and stared with contemptuous disbelief. "What?"
"Liam Parker." Lind reluctantly accepted the enthusiastic handshake. "I'm desperate for a ride out of here, man. I've been stuck here for eighteen months and I'm trying to get back to Jupiter."
An extended hand tried to brush the man aside so that Lind could retreat to the confines of his ship. "Can't help you."
The man actually took a step to the side to further block Lind's path. His eyes pleaded. "Come, on, man. You know how tough it is to get a ride back. I could wait for weeks for the next supply shuttle." He kept following Lind right to the hatch. Hitchhikers were commonplace, particularly on the smaller stations. Flights out could be few and far between, and transportation schedules were anything but regular. Ships regularly loaned or leased out extra space to contractors bouncing around between various moons, stations, and planets. A simple task like returning to Earth could take twice as long, depending on the frequency of vessels passing through the region. On a nothing place like Iapetus, the opportunities to get anywhere were scarce. Years before, Lind had availed himself of the informal system to return to Earth. He had never felt so alien than in hanging around a stranger's ship with no assigned duties and knowing no one, but entire segments of the contractor population traveled that way. Just not on a Mako.
"Absolutely not. You know I'm a Thirty-Two?" He jammed a finger towards his Mako. "This is a Contract enforcement ship. It's not a fucking taxi. You're not catching a ride."
"The landing controller told me who you were. He also said your computer was downloading a flight path to Jupiter." Lind scowled that the controller would give away those details, but he knew handing out itineraries for incoming ships was commonplace for just this reason. Just not for Thirty-Twos. The man kept talking. "I have to get to Io, man. I can't take any more sitting around. You know how it is. I'll wait around here for a few more weeks, not working, not getting paid. I'll catch a supply shuttle that'll take me to Titan. I'll sit around Titan for a few days before I can get something that will take me to Jupiter."
"That's how it works." Lind made it past the hitchhiker to the top of the ramp but didn't open the hatch. He stood still, not looking at the other man, just thinking about getting back into space. The man's plight was not novel. Most of the contractors and employees bouncing around between the various planets, moons, and stations relied on irregular flights and hitching rides on passers-by. A simple effort like trying to get home could take twice as long depending on the frequency of flights. At a nothing place like Iapetus, the choices were few. "I'm not going straight to Io, either. I have to go to Titan." After he said it, Lind decided he needed to go to the Titan Orbital Station to take another look at the derelict Marlin towed there.
"It's still faster. At least I won't be sitting around here. Come on, help me, please. You're the third ship through here in a week and I couldn't get on the Mako or up to that Guppy. I haven't seen my family in almost two years. I just want to go home." The man's shoulder's slumped.
Lind finally made eye contact. He stared for a while into the exhausted gray eyes. Lind closed his own, imagining the long, silent ride between planetary systems and realized he wasn't sure he looked forward to completing the crossing alone.
He punched his code into the keypad by the hatch. "You can stay in the cell."
CHAPTER FIVE
The sound that woke him came from the lower deck. A toilet flushed. He felt the vibration more than heard the
sound, a difficult task either way considering the ambient movement of a ship under power. Kay had a minuscule bladder and Lind slept with his door open to hear any alarms from the cockpit. Even after so many years together, Lind could never sleep all the way through his night when Kay had to make regular bathroom trips or started absently singing to himself as he read through some report or tinkered around the ship. Lind braced himself for the next moment when his partner would knock against something and Lind would yell downstairs to get him to knock it off so he could sleep.
But Kay died.
Lind bolted upright in his cot. The ship should be empty but for him. Still in his underwear, Lind pulled himself up out of bed and forced himself to his feet. He'd made it, stumbling to the corridor with his pistol in his hand before he remembered the Hitchhiker.
When they boarded the Mako, Lind made the Hitchhiker - he'd forgotten the man's name and didn't care enough to ask again - drop his bags in the small cell on the lower floor. The excuse the investigator gave had something to do with the sensitive investigation materials stored in the more comfortable rooms of the top deck. Lind afforded the Hitchhiker the luxury of freedom of movement, for the lower deck at least. He didn't lock the cell door. He went so far as to lock and seal off the stairwell leading up. If the kid knew anything about Makos, he would ask about the second cabin on the upper deck. If he knew anything about Thirty-Twos, he would ask where Lind's partner was. But, he asked no questions and Lind didn't volunteer answers.
Standing in the doorway, listening to a stranger move around in the belly of his home, the adjacent cabin as empty as the cockpit, the adrenaline rush that got him out of bed in the first place faded. He dropped his pistol on his bedside table and collapsed back into bed, rolling himself towards the bulkhead and squeezing his eyes shut as though that would help him return to sleep faster. There wasn't much reason to get up or leave his cabin. The autopilot would notify him of any problems. It was easier to ignore everything while he was asleep. Besides, he lacked the energy to care about things like working or eating. Absent alcohol, sleep provided an acceptable escape.