by Corey Ostman
Kyran nodded. “We haven’t curved inward, yet, so we’re still on the outer spiral,” he said. “And the reason it’s so large is that I work here, too. This is my lab. One hundred square meters with the best view at the bode.”
Grace had begun moving around the lab. She touched a desk and smiled.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. Just thinking of Raj,” she said. “You keep your place neat.”
“Raj still leaves takeout on his lab equipment, doesn’t he?”
“Yep,” Grace said.
“Raj still eats with his lab equipment,” Tim added, his mimic coat flickering.
Kyran raised a brow. Grace smiled at Tim’s remark and returned to the exterior view. Her shoulders slumped and she took in a deep breath. He knew that feeling of calm, staring out at the plateau.
“The roiders actually get to work out there,” Kyran said. “But they never talk about the view. I guess it’s harder to see, up close, when you’re focused on extracting slush.”
“When I was a kid,” Tim said, “I dreamed of being a roider. Wanted to leave earth and see something new. But there’s no way my father would have allowed that.” His mouth opened slightly, revealing his blue tongue.
It shocked Kyran to hear the PodPooch discuss his former life. When Tim had first emerged as a thinking being, he’d claimed no memories from the past. And Eugene—the man whose mind had formed Tim’s consciousness—had never spoken about becoming a roider. Was that a false memory?
“When you were a kid? Don’t you mean puppy?” Grace winked, eliciting a bark from the PodPooch.
Puppy? Has the consciousness changed?
“I’m sure your things will arrive soon,” Kyran interrupted, hoping the parallel subvocalized conversation would stop.
Grace looked at him. Her brows were drawn together.
“It usually doesn’t take them long to unload a cruiser, even after a crash,” he continued, uncomfortably.
“Do crashes happen often here?” she asked with an edge to her voice.
“I’m sorry about what happened to you,” Kyran said. “But there are advantages to being on Ceres.”
“Hardly the advantage of numbers. We’re not going to be able to hide in a town of less than two hundred people. There were more folks in cloister.”
“No, but the location is unattractive for AI hunters like the aposti. People here rely on tech—they trust it, and everyone else relies on belt mining too much to interfere.”
“So we’re here for safety. Great start.”
Kyran let the barb slide. “I also needed to see Tim. Raj didn’t follow the plan for activation.” Tim’s strange childhood memory made him pause. “Raj, umm, cut corners and—”
“I can assure you that no corners were cut,” Tim stated.
Kyran frowned, turning to the PodPooch. “You would be the last to know what you’re missing.”
“No, you would,” Tim said. “Raj was the only one involved in my retraining.”
“That’s part of the problem,” Kyran said, “Raj knew he should have interviewed Eugene’s closest friends, like—”
“What is it you want us to do here, Kyran?” Grace interrupted.
Kyran looked back at her.
“For now, lay low. Like I do. Just keep out of the way and you’ll be fine. Nobody will pay any attention to you if you’re not a roider.”
“Lay low? Too late,” muttered Tim.
Grace whacked Tim with her boot. “So where do we sleep?”
“Over here.” Kyran launched himself, heading toward an inner hallway to the right of the viewport. His guests followed.
“My bedroom,” he said, gesturing to a room on the left as they passed. “Kitchen and storage are here to your right. Bathroom too,” he said.
They slowed as they reached the end of the hall. Kyran tapped the keypad.
“Here’s yours.”
The door opened. Kyran pulled himself in, swerving past the bed, currently locked in a vertical position, where it had been for almost a year. He wondered if he’d be able to budge it without some lubricant.
“It’s about twenty five square meters,” said Tim, floating in behind him. “How did you rate such a large space?”
“It’s the exam room,” said Kyran. “Or was. I moved most of the equipment out into the lab. The rest is in the closet, so don’t open it.”
“Won’t that cause trouble if you have a lot of patients?” asked Grace.
“Only if I need to operate.”
“Don’t touch the closet. Got it,” said Tim.
“And don’t touch that,” he gestured to the medical isolation hatch, to the right of the room’s viewport.
“What is it?” said Grace.
“My quarantine pod. Compstate-required. It has basic life support in case we need to isolate a patient,” he said. “Right now I’m using it to store some supplies that need to be at a lower temperature.”
“Don’t touch the pod,” Tim noted.
The entrance bell chimed.
Company? He didn’t have any appointments this morning. He wondered if it was a curious roider, or fallout from Grace’s interlude with Lee.
“You stay here, I’ll see who it is,” he said, launching down the hallway.
As Kyran reached the lab, the chime sounded again. He put a ready hand over the alarm and swiped his access panel.
“Who is it?”
“Me. Who were you expecting?”
Kyran relaxed. It was Mhau Tapang, the bode’s head systems engineer. He opened the door and motioned her inside. She gave him an amused look, reminding him, as ever, of a bird as she flitted her small frame through the door, perching on a nearby chair.
“What seems to be the trouble?” Kyran pulled himself into a seat. “You’re not due for an exam.”
She tilted her head, her short black hair glossy in the light. “The dock crew’s been telling me about the trouble with the Waltz. Bad business—somebody could have been killed.”
Kyran nodded.
“Lee’s getting too bold, Kyran. He’s fearless.”
“Trying to upstage his father in that. Though I wouldn’t say fearless,” Kyran said, thinking of Grace with a smile. “Is that why you’re here?”
“I heard that Lee was unsuccessful at extorting some of the passengers.”
“Is that so?”
Mhau folded her arms.
“Where is she, Kyran? The woman who disarmed Lee, confiscated his weapon, and sent him running? I want to see her.”
“She’s just settling in.”
“I’ve seen the manifest of the Waltz. She’s a licensed protector.”
Kyran curved the floor straps around his feet and reclined his seat.
“Former protector, Mhau. She’s just an old friend of mine from Earth.”
“And Mars,” she said.
Kyran winced. How easy was it to find the information?
Mhau leaned forward, touching his knee.
“And Mars,” Kyran reluctantly agreed.
But Mhau was already looking over his shoulder. He followed her gaze and saw Grace standing in the doorway. Damn.
Mhau stood. “Very pleased to meet you, Protector Donner,” she said.
“Likewise. Call me Grace.” Grace bounced in from the hallway. Mhau was already on an intercept course, extending her hand.
“I’m Mhau Tapang. Systems Engineering. If anything breaks, I fix it.”
“Is something broken?” Grace asked.
“The Waltz certainly is. Sorry about your landing.”
“It’s not the Waltz that’s broken—it’s the justice system here. Where’s your protector?” Grace asked.
Mhau glanced toward Kyran at the mention of protector.
“You have one, right?” Grace added.
“Our protector’s not acting at full capacity—” Mhau began.
“Ink,” Kyran interrupted. “An addict.”
Mhau looked pained. He was immediately sorry for hi
s blunt assessment. Grace looked from Kyran to Mhau in the awkward silence that followed.
“Well, thanks for taking time to stop by,” said Grace, at length.
Mhau recovered, managing a smile. “Just wanted to welcome you to Bode-6, and shake your hand for giving Lee trouble. Let me know if you need anything.” She looked around the room disdainfully. “Kyran is an ascetic and doesn’t believe in creature comforts.”
I’m comfortable, Kyran thought defensively. He had his lab, the belt network provided all the medical data he craved, and his patients here were far more interesting than those in Cheyenne.
“I do need something,” Grace said. “I’m hungry.”
“If you give me an hour, I can take you to the mess,” Mhau said.
Grace nodded. “Thanks, that’d be great. You coming, Kyran?”
When did this conversation get away from him? He’d expected a quiet dinner, not the noise of the mess. Kyran shook his head.
“No, I’ll stay here. I ate just before you arrived.”
Grace smirked at him. Sure you did, her eyes seemed to say.
“Ok. I’ve got to install a new conduit in Spiral-3. After that, I’ll stop by and we can eat,” Mhau said. She gave them both a friendly nod and bounded to the door.
“I might like this place better than Mars,” Grace said as the door slid shut. “Like being in cloister. Everybody knows everybody.”
“You didn’t introduce me,” came Tim’s voice behind them. He sailed out of the hallway.
“We’ll have a proper coming out party for you later, Tim,” Grace said.
Kyran frowned. “Much later.”
Chapter 4
Grace stood at the viewport. The sun was still a yellow orb, but so much smaller. Half the size it had seemed on Mars. Possibly about the size of her stomach. She was ravenous. She had kept her food consumption on the Waltz to a minimum as she’d become acquainted with low grav. And she’d been operating on adrenaline for several hours now. It left her feeling cold, and some warm food, even machine-made pucks like she’d had on Mars, would be most welcome.
“Where’s Mhau?” Grace asked aloud.
Kyran shrugged. “She’ll be here. And you won’t be late—they’ll be serving dinner for the next three hours.”
“They?” she asked.
“The mess in Spiral-1,” Kyran said. “We’ve discussed building a bigger place along the outer spiral, but roiders are set in their ways.”
“Is food only available in one place?” Grace asked.
“Yes. It’s efficient for a small population. The slushers work in shifts—they’re hungry when they return and wouldn’t want the bother of preparing their own meals. The rest of us use the mess whenever we’re hungry.”
Grace curled her fingers in Tim’s fur. He was a mimic Scotty now, all black curls and eyes. “Tim, you staying put?”
“Yeah,” Tim said. “I’ll be fine with Kyran.”
The privacy chime sounded.
“Be a nice doggy,” Grace said.
“Funny.”
Mhau was waiting outside the door. It took Grace a bit of maneuvering, but she managed to join the engineer without embarrassing herself. Kyran gave her a little wave and closed the door as she and Mhau pulled into the tube.
“You ready?” Mhau asked Grace.
“I may be bruised and battered by the time I get there,” Grace said, thinking of her first tentative steps on Ceres, “but I’ll still be hungry.”
Mhau smiled and pulled to the left. Grace noted that the wind was now coming from the opposite direction, and was offering a bit of resistance as she tried to amble forward.
“Watch yourself as you get deeper into Bode-6,” Mhau said as they moved down the corridor.
“What do you mean?”
“Word has spread about Lee. There may be an incident.”
Grace grinned. “I expect one. But at least I’ve got respect now.”
Mhau nodded, brown eyes appraising. “You certainly have that.”
They continued toward the center of Bode-6. Pockets of people became a small crowd, all streaming in the same direction, beneath a large yellow sign that read ‘Mess.’ The raucous sounds coming from the hall reminded Grace of her old academy.
“It’s good we came early,” Mhau said. “It’ll get more crowded in about an hour.” She swiped her ptenda at the door. “And don’t get too used to these fees—they’ll probably increase again tomorrow.”
Grace frowned. “Inflation?”
“Yes,” Mhau said. “With the last three mining expansions in the ‘belt, Ceres has grown a lot. We’re the hub and the primary source for water, not to mention the only vacation spot for millions of kilometers.” She smirked. “Lots of money sloshing in, and everyone is out to make as much as possible. It’s bad for Kyran. He’s under compstate mandate and can’t inflate his prices, so he has to request cost-of-living increases almost every month. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to afford to live here.”
Grace frowned. She hadn’t thought of the cost of her visit for Kyran. Perhaps this was why he had avoided coming to the mess with her and Mhau. She wondered if he’d accept a small rent from her. Probably not. She’d figure out some way to slip him some credits. In the meantime, she vowed to bring him back some food pucks.
The mess was about twenty meters long and filled with four-person dining tables, all spaced close together. The room smelled good, with aromatic spices and the promising scent of cooked meat. A crowd had gathered in a bustling queue at the food dispensary. Grace and Mhau joined the line.
The menu, posted in large letters on the wall, listed synthetic food in the same puck format she’d had on Mars. Still, it was high quality grub, completely unlike the rations she’d had to force down on the Waltz. The smell of fat and starches more than made up for consistency and appearance, at least with her current appetite. She had eaten plenty of puck on the Red Planet, so it didn’t take her long to settle on a meal.
Grace had just put in a double order of Veg-7, Protein-2, and Starch-10 when there was a small commotion behind them. She turned to see Lee entering the mess. Roiders were steering clear of him, though some, Grace noticed with glee, were chuckling. When he passed by, he avoided eye contact with her, but it was a show: he knew where she was. Lee slowed as he got to the front of the line and the roiders begrudgingly let him in.
Grace looked over at Mhau, but the engineer shook her head and pantomimed zipping her lip.
They gathered their puck-filled food trays and bounced to the main eating area to find a table. There were plenty of places available, but only one had a big roider shouting at her.
“Over here, Gracie!” Plate hollered. Charlie waved from his seat.
Mhau whistled. “Good choice for an ally. No one moves Plate.”
Grace grinned, moving to join the two roiders. It was something of a feat to keep her tray level, but she managed to arrive at the table without losing a puck. She took a seat next to Plate; Mhau sat across from her.
“Howdy, Tapang,” Plate said, wiping a hand across his chest before extending it to the systems engineer. “How’s it been? This here’s Charlie. He’s new.”
“I’m fine, Plate. Nice to meet you, Charlie,” Mhau said, shaking Charlies’s hand.
“Where’s Taisia?” Grace asked.
“She’s already off to Bode-4. Had a peach of a contract. Skipper for the slush run to Vesta,” said Plate.
“I didn’t realize she was a pilot.”
“Yeah, and with a lot of credits to make up. She was mad as hell she missed your handling of Lee,” said Charlie. Some of the roiders at nearby tables voiced agreement.
“Guys, I’m sorry, but I’m starving.” Grace dug into her food. “Don’t let me stop you.”
Plate grinned, sandwiched two pucks, and took a big bite. “I thought I’d never recover from what they fed us on the Waltz.”
“Ha!” Grace reached over and slapped him on his exoskeleton. “I saw you eat plenty on the t
rip here,” she said. “Looks like you put on a few kilos to me.”
Plate grunted. “I’m slushing tomorrow and I need the energy.”
“I’ve heard that excuse before,” Mhau said.
“Like ‘I’ve just finished slushing,’” Charlie said. “Or ‘I remember slushing,’ or ‘I dreamed about slushing!’” He grinned at Plate.
While the roiders bantered, Grace focused on her food. The vegetable puck was based on green beans. Naturally, it looked nothing like the beans she’d spent her summers as a young girl tending, the tall hoops of climbing plants verdant in the sun. The meat puck was one of the better ones based on pork. The starch puck could have been a yam in a former life. It slotted nicely with the other two.
Grace looked up, mouth full, in time to see a roider do a comical slow-motion fall after getting a boot snagged on a chair.
“Another tyro,” Plate complained.
“It took me about three months before I could skip without toppling over,” Mhau said.
“Two weeks for me,” Plate said, “my steelback helped.”
“You guys take care of the cannon?” Grace asked, stacking her pucks for a bite.
“Yeah,” Charlie said. He glanced around the mess. “Lee’s been asking around ‘bout it.”
“Let him ask,” Plate said. He stopped eating and looked at her. “I could always tell him you took it!”
“Gee, thanks,” said Grace.
“Kidding, protector!” He flashed his palms. “Besides, after your show, he’s going to stay far away from you.”
Grace nodded to Mhau. “See? Respect.”
But Mhau hadn’t heard. She was inspecting Charlie’s head, at his temple. There were red bumps on his skin under her fingertips.
“Your graft site looks infected,” she said. “You should have Doctor Chanho look at that.”
“It’s no trouble, thanks,” said Charlie.
“You could be rejecting the unit, you know.”
“Don’t got time,” Charlie muttered.
“Rejecting?” Grace asked. Raj had never mentioned graft rejections.
“It’s common with the older models, especially if it had a previous owner.” Mhau said to Grace. “The grafty was never meant to be used by two people in succession. Once the neural pathways are set, it’s challenging to re-learn new electrical levels and immunology with a different owner.”