Angeleyes - eARC

by Michael Z. Williamson

Nothing. But, I did find an open bunkie at barely over base rate. It was worth it for a shower and a rack, but if nothing moved soon, I was going to slip into the underdecks and sleep for free.

  I lucked out the next day.

  A lot of cargo routes go through Grainne on their way to Alsace and Meiji. With the UN occupying, everything slowed, so quite a few detoured around through Caledonia and NovRos. If they could drop cargo en route, they could actually squeeze more money out. So the tramps were running packed to capacity and some over.

  There were several possibilities. I nixed a couple who I figured were running over mass capacity, straining their drives to get a few extra credits.

  There was a lot of stuff through NovRos. I was not thrilled. Discretion is good, but there’s so much clandestine activity it’s like they have three governments. There’s the official one, the mob, and the practical one that works between them, nodding at the law while turning its back on the crooks. I’m pretty cool with what most places call smuggling. Most spacers are, and I’m a Freeholder with rebel parents. But the Ros will commit murder to keep deals quiet. It doesn’t happen often, but it has to be a calculation, like all-male ships when you’re female.

  I found a berth, they needed a second cook and would take hands for cargo. The head cook, Mrs. Ponte, had me scrubbing filters and tables, stacking trays and heating pre-pops, and delivering them to crew on shift. It was scut work, but it paid okay, and she was apologetic.

  “These boys and girls eat like pigs. It must be a youth thing. I have no idea how they pack away so much.”

  They did eat a lot, and didn’t even have the high-G excuse Freeholders or Meijaps have.

  We transited, I helped sling pods at the catchers, and move containers through the lock. I took my pay and went to find my friends.

  Bob and Ray were home this time. They have nice quarters and are happy to host me. They’re an odd couple. They’re married, but they’re straight. Yes, that’s what I said.

  They hang out together, joke, hug, cook, share house, even sleep together. Sleep. They’re not sexual with each other, though they’ll do interactive vid at the same time while plugging off. They’re definitely a couple, but they don’t do anything sexual together alone.

  If they find a compatible woman to share, though, it’s all on.

  I pinged Bob’s code and left my note. It was scroll and vocal, because I didn’t know if he’d be free. “Hey, goz, Angie’s on station! Hoping you guys are free. Buzz me.”

  I got a scroll back almost at once that said, “Come on over!”

  Just because I could, I went to the service-escape passage and down the ladder. It was easy from 10% G, but was a real workout even at 50%, because I’d been climbing down for fifteen minutes. No one questioned me. Who’d make that climb who didn’t have a reason?

  I just like climbing sometimes. I probably miss trees.

  At the bottom I took the passage, followed it around and through C zones to R zones. They have a small water garden outside their door. I grabbed a tiny pear from the bonsai and rang.

  Ray opened the door with a big smile under his blond buzz. He was wearing cargo slacks and shlippers.

  “Angie!”

  He waited about a second to be sure I was available, then kissed me hard. His arms flexed, his shoulders bulged, and I gripped him back.

  Bob was right behind, and he dragged me over for a kiss with a hand brushing down to my hip. Very nice.

  “Hi, gozi!” I said. “Mind if I come in?”

  Ray said, “Sure! You’re already in.”

  Bob asked. “Staying long?”

  “A couple of days, probably.”

  “Want to stay with us?”

  “Definitely,” I said.

  They have a mammock. That’s a mammoth hammock. It was slung across half the common room, and you can either cuddle up or move to separate hollows in it. I took the middle, stretched out and grabbed a pillow to prop my head up, and had awesome guys on each side. Much better than a bunkie.

  Across from me was their huge main vid tank. It was the kind of system wealthy engineers would write off for research purposes. I actually got up to date on the news.

  Ceileidh had been ruptured by a large chunk of planetoid. However, there were questions about whether it had been a natural event, especially as there is an impact watch with force beams and missiles, or if it had been sabotage. The trajectory was inconsistent with normal orbits, but not impossible. And of course, no one had IDed it before it hit. The video was blurry, but the hole was sizeable. It wasn’t going to be an easy fix.

  A large volume of the station was closed because of structural concerns, and they were planning to glaze a patch over it, with struts and thickeners. That was going to take a while, because with the UN in charge, there was a lot of paperwork.

  Ray said, “I’ve worked with some of those issues. So, they’re going to have to get approval on structure, then approval on materials and effect on the environment.”

  “Vapor inside is an issue,” I agreed.

  Bob got up to check on food in the kitchen nook. He chuckled as he walked over. I guessed he’d heard this already.

  “Oh, no,” Ray said, leaning forward onto an elbow to face me better. “Well, you’re right, but this concern is about the outside native environment.”

  “Huh? It’s an inflated planetoid with some outgasing from the ports and locks. There’s probably a few wrenches and screws in orbit.”

  “Yes, but these forms date from when they were planetbound. You have to have a study of what will happen to the native environment.”

  That was ridiculous, but I believed him.

  “Fuck.”

  “Then there’s labor and hiring issues—who is poor enough to bid on it.”

  “Poor enough?” I didn’t get it.

  “The number of jobs involved is relevant to UN metrics. Small companies get preference.”

  I know a bit about that. “Anyone fixing it is going to have to borrow cap-habitat gear from Lola or Bizen or Mandrake. They all use stuff license-built from Prescot.”

  “But the point is, small businesses have to have a chance to make money.”

  “By subletting gear and upcharging?”

  “Exactly. Then there’s discussions over what will be reconstructed. If there’s enough left, you can do a one hundred percent buildout. If there isn’t enough left, you have to get permissions, or it gets assigned to a committee to decide what type of construction and zoning should be there.”

  I shook my head. “You’re really not joking.”

  “No. That’s why nothing gets built in UN space anymore, and most of the transfers are on this side of the Points.”

  Bob had steak for both of them and salmon for me. He came through, put a plate down for me on the table in front of the mammock. He hugged me, then hugged Ray close and put his plate down, then got his own.

  “I love you, Big Guy,” he said.

  “And you, Dude,” Ray agreed. “Oh, man, this is good steak.”

  I said, “I’ll try one small bite. Just to be polite.”

  Bob said, “Okay. I know you don’t eat mammals.”

  I took a bite off his fork, carefully.

  Damn, that was tender and sweet. I almost converted.

  “You did great,” I said. “The salmon’s amazing. Lemon grass?”

  “And hickory salt, sage, rosemary and garlic.”

  “Damn. I’ll have to try that. Thank you.”

  We ate and had beer. They have a dark wheaty ale that’s got an almost nutty aftertaste.

  Ray continued, “So anyway, it won’t be fixed any time soon. Because before all that, the UN has to organize a bunch of Freeholders. Habitat Freeholders.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. That wasn’t going to happen.

  “What about you, Bob?” I asked.

  “Oh, things are decent. We’re bringing up a new vatory here, so there’s a lot of water chemistry and mesh layout. They’re doing some new work
with a salmon tank, too, to increase productivity. They’re getting big. That’s why I was away last time you were through. I was actually dirtside looking at materials before they lifted them.”

  Food production up was good. Due to population? I asked.

  “Some. And shipping’s been on the increase even before this workaround, so there’s plenty of market. I also have reservations about possible Jump Point issues, either from station damage or from astrophysical damage. I’m going to be stocking extra in our freezer.”

  “Yeah.” There’s only so much you can do in space, but large habitats are mostly survivable, more than ships.

  There was cheesecake for dessert. It wasn’t as amazing as the stuff I’d had at Conway, but still, it was cheesecake. I sprawled across their laps on the couch next to the mammock, getting my legs, ass and shoulders massaged while stealing bites from them. They grinned at each other. We were theoretically watching a zero-G dance and athletic show, but they were paying attention to me.

  Sometimes they have me in turns. I figured tonight I was getting sandwiched one way or another.

  It was right on the couch. One moment Ray was massaging my hips, then he was opening the gussets on my suit and touching my flesh. Bob bent down to kiss me, and it just went from there. I got naked, they got naked, and I turned face down and turned around.

  Two days sleeping between them, warmth on both sides, and letting them catch up on their need for female flesh alone and together, was a lot of fun. I didn’t spend a cent. They covered it all. And me.

  They’re strange, but so sweet, and I love hanging out with them.

  During the day I took care of everyone’s laundry and general cleaning, and caught more news about UN troops moving “through” the system.

  Even if they were going through, they were going to be present. There were better places for me to be. I started watching the manifests for a slot out.

  Three days and plenty of double man fun later, I had passage to Alsace. I kissed them both, promised to be back again soon, and grabbed space.

  The ship was a standard frame from the Martin co-op. They looked at overall requirements, designed a standard frame to fit most of the needs, produced it cheap on pre-order, and sold them all. They’re reliable general craft, but no good for specialty hauling. I counted mass on loading, then cooked and managed waste en route.

  On arrival, I saw Alsace had a detachment of UN troops on station. Their uniforms were mostly administration, but I saw a couple of Battlespace Management insignia. There weren’t any warships here, but there could be.

  Then I heard news of construction across from the civilian station, of a dedicated military terminal that could take a squadron of ships and support functions. About that time, space engineer badges started showing up on uniforms.

  I was earning enough to keep going, but I wasn’t able to save any. Cubbies cost money, and in Alsace they were all filled. I wound up in a fleabag sotel, and was afraid I was going to have to resort to crash holes and back passages. I didn’t have any established chew toys on this side of the system.

  What I noted was that the UN was putting troops and facilities everywhere in colonial space, and even in NovRos, which was theoretically independent.

  I thought everyone knew that as systems reached a certain point, they’d become nations, then member nations. Some of them were working on secondary colonies, mostly still habitats so far, but eventually, they’d join the Colonial Alliance, and people would keep expanding through space.

  But now the UN was moving in, and pushing for stronger ID and chips. I guessed they wanted to tax all that lovely money people were making.

  They’d want it all eventually.

  I ran into some troops at Lune Grotto. They were in okay shape, but definitely not the buff guys I’d met in NovRos. Those were engineers or combat troops. These were support. There were two chicks. Their hair was far too long for space, and too dressed up. Eight guys were paying all their attention to them, and so were some locals who had a fet for uniformed chicks. Well, I like uniformed guys, so why not?

  I sat down nearby and smiled. We were well off the dance floor, with sound paneling so we could talk. It’s not dark, but the dark crete makes it look that way. It’s just far enough off the axis to have .5G, and against the hull so the “rock” is actually based off the outer regolith. There’s a maintenance hatch in their storage cube that goes to the gap between deck and hull, but I’ve never been down there.

  “Hey. Want to help me with a pitcher of Alibis?”

  “Hey! Sure!” one of them said. She was bubbly. I hate bubbly.

  The other shrugged. “I can help a little, I guess.”

  They weren’t going to take drinks from men, but they figured I was safer.

  One of the guys asked, “Do you mind if I chip in?”

  “Go ahead,” I said. I coded the order and waited for the serverbot.

  They all liked to talk, so I sat back and let them.

  When they drank, they talked even more.

  They had admin and process problems. That’s nothing unusual in the military.

  But theirs seemed more fucked up than ours. The whole group got in with stories about it, including about Mtali. I’d missed Mtali. It was mostly 3rd Legion, and I’d been 1st. I knew it had wrecked some troops emotionally, even if casualties hadn’t been that bad. I’d heard rumors of all kinds of meddling.

  They had, too.

  “. . . I mean, I saw cargotainers of stuff go into Logistics, but we’d go in to get stuff issued and they were out of stock, or awaiting delivery, or awaiting process. Every freaking time.”

  His tall buddy said, “We’re in a bar, Shaddy, you can say, ‘fucking.’”

  “Yeah, but I might slip and say it in front of the captain.”

  “Yeah. He’d . . . never mind, I shouldn’t say it.” Buddy shrugged.

  “Cargotainers?” I asked.

  He turned to me, “Mate, everything went in, nothing came out. Packs, body shields, optics, weapons. Everyone was begging for gear, and we saw landers, and trucks, but there was never enough when we went for it.”

  The tall girl said, “And then we hear that most of Log was selling stuff to three different local factions.”

  “Yeah, that. It must be nice to be in Log.”

  Buddy asked, “Are we getting our materials here?”

  The other chick was an engineer. She said, “Mostly. Just occasional shortages on fasteners and welding wire. Especially since the fusion welders need very specific wire. I hate those Allah-blessed things. The old style wire feeds can take almost anything in an emergency, even strapping wire. These things, one gauge, specific heat and freq for each alloy, no mixing because of vapor danger, even in a freaking vacuum. The safety guys are as bad as Log.”

  The first girl said, “Just remember when you want to bash Admin, we’re right here.”

  “No, I like you guys. You make sure I get paid.”

  “Damn straight. A lot of boots don’t appreciate that.”

  They all paused for a moment, and I wanted to offer just a little to be friendly.

  I said, “I wasn’t there at the time, but we get light cargotainers on trampers sometimes. You know from the bill of lading it’s got to be a twenty K unit, but it masses in at sixteen K. The stuff never got in there. They’re sealed, so we can’t screw with them.”

  “Yeah, but this stuff was definitely being sold in-system. They made a bunch of arrests and there were troopies running for holes. I have to wonder how many were actually guilty. It wouldn’t take many if they were on the right shift. Most of them are probably just boots who got hosed by the Justies.”

  “I believe you,” I said.

  “Still,” he said with his eyes staring at nothing, “stuff could go missing en route as well. We’d never know.”

  I asked, “When’s the terminal going to be functional?”

  The woman engineer said, “It’s functional now, for combat use, which doesn’t apply,
even in combat with the way the safety managers are. It will be safe in a few weeks. It’ll be signed off some time after that. Then they’ll start cramming so much unauthed crap in there it’ll overload life support and gen, and we’ll get blamed for not anticipating, even though we’re not allowed to. Jackbags.”

  I learned quite a bit I thought would be useful for planning my routes.

  I figured it wouldn’t be safe to spread with any of them, in case some UN cop thought I was trying to spy for someone, especially since I’d just come from NovRos. So I finished my glass, and stood.

  “I have schedule to manage, but keep the rest and be safe. Good luck.”

  “Hey, and you, spacer. Thanks very much.”

  “Thanks, definitely.”

  I said, “You’re welcome. Safe flight.”

  I went back to my room. Since I had plenty of space and a wide bed, I plugged in my Body Buzz and ran a program. Tactile pads all over my neck and torso, 3D vid and two vibes and fingers on my lips wasn’t as good as real sex, but sometimes I like just how much overload it can offer all at once. I came hard enough for green sparkles behind my eyelids. I knew I’d hit a good release. I managed purple sparkles once. Green is really good.

  CHAPTER 9

  I managed to book on a mid-size slow tug that was going through Meiji and around, to Earth and around, and back to Caledonia. They hired me for the duration up front.

  The slow tugs take more work and carry more sensitive cargo, but the flights are longer. The per-day rate wasn’t quite as high and meant a little more work, but I’d have a nice chunk at the end.

  There are people rich enough to ship exotic wood between systems.

  There are people rich enough to ship finished furniture between systems.

  The stuff was packed in hermetic wrap, inside aerogel, inside custom cases, inside crush foam, inside crates, inside spring padding, inside cargotainers, inside pods. It had to be bonded through Earth, because they consider it some sort of environmental sin. So those pods had to be separated, and cargo had to be planned around it because we legally couldn’t open those pods in Earth space.

  In Meiji we dropped cargo and picked up handmade artifacts in precious alloys. I saw attached images. The stuff was gorgeous. We also picked up high-nitrogen gas in containers, and fairly heavy elements from their outer cloud, which they call Sutā Ringu.