Fia blew out a sigh. “According to my calculations, about a third of the complex took hits. Do the math. We’re looking at a major death toll. They’ll try to sanitize it. I’m even surprised they admitted to that much damage.”
Tilly took a somber walk to the bathroom facilities. In the men’s side, she found a steel ladder leading down from a hatch in the ceiling to the inside of a stall. When she opened the stall door, she jerked back, finding it occupied by one of the miners.
“I’m just watching and listening for them,” said the miner.
They made their rounds that night, checking on their regular patients. Fia’s patient, the one with the internal injuries, had taken a turn for the worse. They made her has comfortable as possible and managed to coerce her to eat something. Other than that, there was little else they could do. The rest of the injured showed marked improvement, both in healing and attitude. It took two hours to get through all of them. When they were finished, the girls retired to cots in a small group next to each other. Exhausted, Tilly fell into a fitful slumber.
Fia’s patient died on the third day during the early morning hours. At least thirty people gathered to recite words over the woman. They wrapped her in a blanket and gently placed her in the refrigerator next to the others. A few friends of the deceased lingered at the closed refrigerator door, somber and reflective.
The emergency service announcement played endlessly in a loop. None of the information had been updated. The continuous running film grated on the nerves of those who slept closest to it. One of the miners threw a wash bucket at it, bursting the screen. Half the occupants of the shelter applauded the act.
Tilly and Dorothy packed the last of the clean lunch trays under the counter, then washed their hands in the sink. A male voice boomed from the other end of the shelter.
“Attention all! We’ve got company. They’re here!”
Tilly turned, recognizing the miner who had been sitting a shift in the bathroom stall. She knew the rescue team had arrived. People flooded toward the restroom entrance, shoving, fighting for position. Fia bulled her way through the crowd, ordering everyone against the wall in an orderly, single file line. She made those who were carrying packages and blankets drop them. Fia ordered the adults to handhold the children. No cuts in line, no bickering or fighting, and everyone was ordered to keep their mouths shut unless spoken to. Anyone in violation would be frog-marched to the back of the line.
Tilly almost smiled. It felt like a foreign object on her face. “She’s a hard taskmaster, that one. Just what this place needs.” She also felt a deep sense of pride. That’s my Mom.
“I couldn’t imagine it without her,” said Dorothy.
Fia joined them a moment later and then ducked behind the counter. She drug out a first aid kit and began stuffing supplies inside her suit, including some morphine packets and the small cardiac defibrillator kit.
Tilly knelt down beside her, shielding her. “What’re you doing?”
“Just taking a few things that might come in handy later on,” said Fia. “They won’t miss them. I don’t think they’ll search me.”
“More power to you,” said Tilly. “They owe us at least that much.”
Three women came from the direction of the restroom. They wore white lab smocks and head bonnets. They each wore a respirator. One held an aluminum case. They walked down the standing line, examining individuals, asking questions. Tilly assumed they were medical technicians. When they finished inspecting the line they asked for the location of any dead bodies.
Tilly waved them over. “Over here in the walk-in refrigerator.” She wondered if the technicians doubled as morticians.
“What’s your count?” asked one of the technicians.
“Seven,” said Tilly, and pointed to the large stainless steel door.
“You three go ahead and get in line for processing. We need everyone out of here.”
With no arguments, Tilly and her friends joined the others. The line moved swiftly. When they reached the stall they were asked for their code numbers and names and then directed up the ladder. The ladder reached another service corridor that led through a series of pressure hatch doors. They passed through a sub-dome that Tilly guessed served as a machine shop. Once inside another narrow corridor, the single file line backed up. People were ascending a ladder up ahead, presumably to the ground level of the complex. But where in the complex?”
“It might be a Habitrail up above,” said Dorothy, “but it’s a rat’s maze down here.”
“Miles of it,” said Fia.
When her turn came, Tilly climbed the ladder and ended up in the backroom of a gift shop. Dorothy and Fia followed behind. A guard directed her outside, where she had to recite her code number and name to a clerk. The clerk tore off a stub from a ticket and handed it to her, with the instructions, “This is your boarding pass. That group standing under the Rent-A-Cart Ad sign is group number three. You’ll be departing out of gate seven, flight 40, aboard the shuttle, Adonis. First, do you require any emergency medical attention?”
“No.”
“Any questions?”
“Yes, how long will it be until the shuttle--”
“When it gets here. Move along.”
Tilly ran to her group and spun around to watch the progress of her friends. A quick glance told her that she stood in the shuttle port arrival-departure area in the perimeter ring—a miracle that this section hadn’t sustained damage.
Much to her relief, Dorothy and Fia headed toward Tilly’s group after being processed. Hand slaps and hugs ensued. They compared boarding passes just to be certain. They all had the same flight.
“It doesn’t mean we’ll end up at the same location,” said Fia. “They could still split us up.”
“Oh, I hope that doesn’t happen,” said Dorothy, and rapped her knuckles on own her head. “Knock on wood.”
They waited. Although Tilly could not see the launch gantry from where she stood, she glimpsed the arriving and departing flights overhead through the clear panels. They looked like fireflies in a choreographed dance, swooping down in graceful arcs, and then darting off to fade into tiny pinpricks of light. The logistics of moving such a number of shuttles over such a confined port facility must have been giving the controllers seizures.
Tilly counted nine groups in the arrival-departure area so far, and they were adding them as they waited. Each group consisted of twenty people, the capacity of the smaller zip shuttles, except for one larger group which consisted of about 80 individuals. She could have sworn she saw Candy Evans at the extreme end of the hall. She scanned the groups for any sign of Sue Lin, hoping she might have survived and made it this far. She kept watching, especially when new groups were formed.
After two hours, their flight number flashed over the departure gate. Tilly’s group was led by two guards, who took their boarding passes and then led them to the maglift buses. The buses mated with the shuttle cabins, and another line formed for boarding. The three girls boarded, taking seats close to each other. It all seemed so surreal to Tilly. The fact that she was alive was a miracle, when so many others hadn’t survived. She now felt more contempt and hatred for FTALC than ever before. United Western Mining was on her shit list too.
Tilly took a window seat as she had done before, and a second after her seat bladder enveloped her, the shuttle rose to vertical, hissing exhaust gases. The next moment brought a mild G-force and a blast of the engines. Audios Moon, you cruel Mistress.
No one told them where they were going. No one told them where they had landed. The only geographical landmark Tilly saw as the shuttle came in for the long glide was endless miles of desert, scrub and arroyos. She caught the edge of a glittering city, filled with tall buildings and glass architecture.
Fia stared out the window. “I’ll bet you 100 imperials that we’re over Africa.”
“I’ll say it’s the Middle East,” said Dorothy. “I heard a rumor that a rich Arabian sheik needed about 5
0 sunflowers to work in his palace.”
Tilly frowned. “You’re both space drunk. We don’t even know if we’re going back to work yet. Maybe they want to ditch us in some outpost until this thing blows over.”
Fia looked at Tilly. “You should know more than any of us that the show must go on. I’m telling you, we’re getting reassigned.”
After departing the shuttle, and being accosted by a stifling dry heat, they were ushered aboard a pearl white executive maglift bus, with gold-stenciled letters on its side that read, The Seven Seas. As the bus turned onto an access road, Tilly craned her neck to get a look at the city skyline. She rose in her seat. Everyone in the bus seemed to gasp at once. A sign on the airport road confirmed their location—McCarran International Airport. They had just arrived at the Las Vegas-Henderson Gambling Complex in Nevada.
Chapter 12
Tilly’s group and four others began their initial processing in the basement of the Seven Seas Casino, located on the newly paved and palm-lined Atlantis Avenue. All instructors and stewards were called out of line and taken to parts unknown. Fia’s prophecy had come true, which left Tilly and Dorothy facing an inevitable new job assignment without her. The girls were issued new tags, with different code numbers. Their Sunflower designations remained the same. The scans, examinations, and delousing rituals were not as thorough as they had been before, since the Seven Seas facility had not been prepared for such an influx of new employees. Tilly also noticed something hectic and disorganized in the command structure with the new casino. No one seemed to know their true job description or their area of responsibility. But the chaos came with a blessing—the staff were more forgiving, even gentle with their new prospects.
Tilly and Dorothy exited the shower and stepped into an alcove. Reciting their codes to a clerk, they were given hygiene bags, underwear, six blue one-piece suits with the Seven Seas logo and two room key cards. Tilly hesitated, looking at the card. She handed it back. “I think you made a mistake.”
The clerk narrowed her eyes. “You’re being funny? Double occupancy, one bathroom, two single beds. You’re not getting a whole suite.”
“We’re supposed to be in a dormitory.”
“Am I supposed to pull one of those out of my ass? We don’t have dormitories at a five-star rated hotel-casino. You’ll take a room and like it!” She flung the card back. “Don’t forget your orientation at the Grotto conference room at 8:00 AM sharp. Until then, you’re confined to quarters.”
Tilly pocketed the card and stepped away from the counter. She changed into her suit, using every ounce of control she had to keep from laughing out loud or screaming for joy. Dorothy felt the same, giggling so hard she couldn’t get her feet into the pants legs. She fell on her butt and squirmed into the suit. Once they had dressed, they were off and running. When they entered a hallway, they stopped to catch their breath. They couldn’t help but admire the sculptured carpet beneath their feet, scenes of leaping dolphins, gliding turtles and flying fish. Just gorgeous.
Tilly looked at the room number on the card with a shaky hand. “Room 920…and it’s all ours.”
“Yeah!”
They followed the wall maps until they found the appropriate elevator. They took it to the ninth floor, stepped out and walked down the hall, filled with anticipation. They found room 920 occupying a corner of the building. When they entered, they stood in amazement, gathering in the sights. A rich deep blue shag carpeting covered the floor from wall to wall. Two aquamarine single beds, with trident posts and fish net canopies, took up the middle of the floor. A small dinette table fashioned from an old hatch cover sat over two cutout gunpowder barrels, padded with velour seats and backs. Seascape paintings adorned the walls. When Tilly and Dorothy stepped into the bathroom, they found the walls impregnated with sea shells and a bathtub fashioned in the shape of a clam shell.
“Can you believe this place?” said Dorothy.
Tilly bounced on a bed and then stepped up to the drapes. Behind the drapes sat a sliding glass door that opened up onto a small balcony. She opened the slider and stepped out. She had a bird’s eye view of the entire Strip, from the old end of town up to where she stood at the ninth floor window. A spectacular sight. She inhaled a chest-full of dry desert air. Dorothy joined her there, her eyes wide. “Beware of gift horses,” said Dorothy, mystically. “It all looks too good to be true. I have a feeling we’re in for a tough time of it here.”
“Well, they can confine me to my quarters anytime.” Tilly opened up her satchel kit. She found the ordinary items, with an additional packet that contained envelopes, writing papers, pens and postage stamps. How primitive, she thought. But then she realized that the Seven Seas hotel-casino might not have any restrictions on post-delivery. A notation inside the packet said that outgoing mail should be placed in the box on the wall next to the front door. She looked across the room and saw the box marked MAIL. She couldn’t imagine how they would keep the postmark from revealing her location, but she felt sure they had a way of disguising it. She had no doubt that they would open the mail and censor it, and then reseal it.
She wrote a quick letter to her father. She left out any mention of the Tranquility Harbor disaster, certain it would be blacked out. The letter served more as reassurance to herself that she had survived. Pleased with its brevity, she read it loud enough for Dorothy.
“Dear Dad,
Everything has been going along just fine. I can’t complain about the treatment, and the work isn’t too hard. At least the hours are agreeable. I’m glad I have so many friends I can turn to for companionship and advice. Some of the instructors are real gems, and I’ve learned so much in these past five months. I have a big surprise about one of these friends that I think you’ll find very interesting. I can’t wait to tell you when I get home. I’m not allowed to say how much, but I’ve made a little tip money that will come in handy for my college education. I hope you’ll be proud of me. I would just love to live in Hawaii, somewhere on the coast near the water. Remember how I used to run up and down the sand and chase the seagulls? I’m looking forward to you telling me all about the new business when you pick me up. Well, bye for now…
Your loving daughter,
Tilly”
“Now that’s sweet,” said Dorothy. “You’ve got only a month left, you lucky dog. A couple months from now, you’ll be taking hula lessons and wearing flower leis. I wish I could be there with you…I can just see some hunky cabana boy oiling me up and feeding me pineapple wedges. What a life.”
“Uh, huh.”
The door chimed. Tilly looked through the peephole and saw Fia on the other side. She swung the door open. They embraced and danced around the room. The three sat on the bed.
“I didn’t think I’d find you,” said Fia. “I must have knocked on a hundred doors. I’m on the first floor with my own room. That’s the way they play it with supervisors, stewards, counselors and coaches—special treatment.”
“Where did they take you?” Tilly asked.
“Debriefing. They’re going to throw a huge security net over the Tranquility Harbor disaster. No leaks, no press, no gossip, no conversation with casino customers or employees—a complete blackout. They have it rigged if you step outside of casino property—your chip alerts security. All supervisors are ordered to report any subversive activity, which includes plotting, sabotage and escapes.”
Dorothy wrung her hands. “Gosh, it was an accident of nature, plain and simple. Why would they have to cover it up?”
“Because of the lawsuits that are already starting to pour in,” said Fia, her tone serious. “Oh, word will get out all right; it’s just that United Western Mining thinks their lawyers can combat secondhand information better than actual witnesses. You are witnesses. They don’t want anybody that was there lipping off about anything. I don’t have actual numbers, but the rumor is that about 400 were killed. That’s a hefty chunk of people. On top of that, somebody is passing around a petition for a class
action lawsuit, citing pain and suffering. Do not sign it. Don’t even discuss it. You’ll thank me later.”
“Did you hear anything about Sue Lin?” asked Tilly.
“They won’t release a list of the injured or dead. She could be in a hospital on Earth by now. Like I say, they’re plugging leaks as fast as they find them. I do know that our dormitory took a direct hit. Just an estimate says that we lost 30 percent of them, mostly prancers, tweets, slingers, maitresses, kitchen workers and janitorial. They were all in the Entertainment division. We were last minute fill-ins for this casino, which is opening up in a week. From what I understand, it was an act of sympathy and reverence.”
“Did you see anybody we knew from the old crew?” asked Tilly.
Fia closed her eyes, shook her head. “I didn’t see the director or the division coordinators. That old bag of sticks, Abigail Rogers, made it out with a broken ankle. She’s here now, trying to get a program together that had everybody on her roster.”
Tilly slipped her letter in the mail box and paced the floor. Just a little while ago, she’d been running down the hallways, giddy as a schoolgirl and acting like a selfish, unconcerned little brat. She knew the news on the Moon hadn’t been good. But to hear it confirmed firsthand set the hook in her heart and tugged hard. She had survived one the worst off-planet tragedies ever. When the facts of the disaster were finally revealed, she and her friends would be fixtures in that historic event—surviving eyewitnesses. That’s if the story ever came out with the real facts and figures.
The Girl They Sold to the Moon Page 12