by Sandra Bard
Hideki had read his brief; Marion could be run by a minimum of two hundred and fifteen. The station at the time of the last census had had three hundred and twenty four personnel aboard. Not an excessive number by any means, but by the looks of it, every single spare crew member seemed to have found a reason to be in the dining hall.
The gazes directed at him were mostly neutral, openly curious but not outright hostile. At least not from the group he was facing. Not yet.
"Everyone," Green announced loudly, well behind a table. "This is Inspector Hideki Takamura from the International Space Foundation and—"
"You're here to shut us down," said a voice to Hideki's right. Hideki braced himself as he turned to face the voice, ready to offer them his usual spiel, that he hadn't looked at the station to make a proper assessment and that it took time and consideration from the higher ups—
Hideki blinked.
The person who had spoken wore the one piece grey overall and black, magnetized boots that identified pilots the universe over. He was leaning against the edge of a table, hip canted forward in a provocative manner, his dark hair shorn close to the skull the way most spacers' was.
But what got Hideki's attention was the pilot's looks.
He looked impossibly young, though that had to be artificial. His eyes were breathtaking, artificially enhanced blue, older than his face suggested, with long eyelashes and carefully shaped brows. The mouth was perfect, just a little wider than normal, and for Hideki, that mouth fuelled an instant fantasy. Those lips were meant to—
The mouth smirked. "Cat got your tongue, Mister Inspector?"
"There's no need for that, Ty." Green stepped in between the two of them as if to mediate a physical fight. "This is Tyler, our best pilot and the person who has saved Marion singlehandedly several times."
Hideki had read the files, but he couldn't remember the station employing any pilots or owning any fighters. There had been several Tilors and Ty-lors, but none of them matched the physical build of this Tyler. While Hideki knew people could change their physical appearances, it was very rare for them to change height. Even with cosmetic medicine, no one took kindly to chopping off inches from their legs.
Perhaps it was something he'd missed out on. Civilian stations were probably not as anal about recording all their newcomers as military stations were. He needed to go over his files again, but he wondered if the change in management was the cause for the deterioration of the station or if it was the other way around.
Tyler gave Hideki a once over and Hideki's body, no matter how tired, stood up and took notice.
"I bet he's already formed an opinion," Tyler snapped. "He's seen the sorry state we're in. I mean, he must have noticed we don't even have proper gravity, so really, don't bother pretending our station isn't broken." Tyler moved forward a little, and Hideki wondered if increased libido was a side effect of long distance space travel.
Hideki tried to get his thoughts in line. It was rather inconvenient that his hormones were out of control when he was so close to his goal. It wouldn't do to—
"I suppose all the money went into your facelift."
Which was not what Hideki had meant to say. It was unprofessional of him to attack people for their looks, no matter how artificial, and it wasn't as if he had cause to talk about medical expenses.
Tyler flushed at the insult, and Hideki had the pleasure of watching those tempting lips thin in surprise, though he felt a stab of shame at his verbal parry. He wondered what Tyler would look like flushed in pleasure—he was in dangerous territory.
"As if you have cause to speak," Tyler snapped back, pushing himself off the table.
Hideki, painfully aware that the two of them were drawing a lot of attention, tried to keep his composure as Tyler sauntered forward in the way only a spacer used to low gravity could, a smirk gracing his features.
"You don't look like any ISF inspector I've ever seen," Tyler said. "That pretty face of yours is all wrong for you."
"Pretty?" Hideki countered, raising an eyebrow. It was his face, but he'd requested a few quirks his original face hadn't been equipped with during modification, such as the ability to raise a single eyebrow.
Tyler snarled and took another step forward. He wasn't as tall as Hideki had previously imagined, and the swagger brought attention to his bowed legs. Typical pilot.
"I suppose you think you're some hot shot—"
"Ty," Green warned, and the others started to move restlessly, pulling away from tables. "Please, not now."
Hideki took in the tension in the people surrounding him and knew he had to back out of the confrontation. Space station crew were a close bunch; they had to be, since they lived in each other's pockets for a long time. Even if there were differences, spacers didn't like it when an outsider called out one of their own.
Hideki should have known better than to challenge someone without learning the hierarchy of things. He squared his shoulders and walked past Green and Tyler to the food dispenser, relieved to see that it was the standard one he'd seen in many a space station. He punched in a familiar code, hoping it was the same, and took the container that was spat out without confirming the contents. He then walked towards Green, who was having a quiet argument with Tyler.
"I'll have this after I've showered," he told Green, who'd broken off the conversation when he'd seen Hideki approach them. "Can you please show me to my quarters?"
"I'll do that—" Tyler started but Green stepped in firmly.
"This way," he said, cordially but forcefully.
"Thank you," said Hideki, feeling a little disappointed at missing an opportunity to see that perfect face flush.
"Well."
"He came in a Palomino, has a hyperdrive—but not meant for long distance travel. Either the ISF has moved closer or—"
"Don't tell me he came all the way in a single pilot spacecraft."
"He couldn't have survived such a flight."
"You tell me."
"I am you."
NOW
Hideki Takamura had come to shut down a space station. He wasn't proud of himself, but he did what was needed.
Hideki stepped out into the docking ramp that had been rolled up to his hatch opening, inhaled deeply and grimaced. Each space station had a unique atmosphere. It wasn't just the air composition; it was the smells, the sounds and the actual feel of the place. The people. From what he could smell, space station Grand Adventure should have been named Last Hope or Last Leg.
The air had a slightly smoky quality to it; the air filters were on the fritz and, to Hideki's sensitive nose, it was worse than the recycled air inside his ship, Assumption. Hideki felt his body protest at the sudden change in weight. He had spent almost a month cooped up in Assumption, a modified Palomino with the new hyperdrive, essentially an engine with just enough room for a single person. He'd become rather fond of Assumption, become aware of just how powerful and responsive the modified engines were. However, Palominos were meant for short distance travel; there was no artificial gravity, no separate sleeping quarters and definitely no shower.
He looked around, discreetly taking in the details of the docking bay: the decorative paint peeling off the bulkhead and the packing from a crater strewn across the ground sensors. Nothing major, but signs of creeping disorder, indications that things were not quite right. In any other station, someone would have spotted the peeling paint and the trash and would have rectified the situation by calling in the maintenance units.
Perhaps the station didn't have any maintenance units in the docking bay since it wasn't used to its full capacity. Although the space station had room to support up to fifteen medium battle cruiser-sized spaceships, the docking bay currently held just a few, small planet hoppers, small spacecraft with enough room for a maximum of fifteen crew and enough supplies for short distance journeys, and one Omega class cargo ship with a hull breach that made him wince.
While the location of the station—on the edge of a star
system with only three agriculture based settler planets close by—was probably why there wasn't much traffic, it did give Hideki one more reason to shut down the station. If the report before had been true, shutting it down would be a blessing.
All he really needed was to find a few more holes in their system before he could declare it unsafe for humans. The people aboard would probably be better off elsewhere anyway.
Intent on making his report as soon as possible, Hideki stopped short as he spotted something out of place. To the far right, out of the way of all the other spaceships, a tall shape loomed under what was commonly known as space tarp.
For an object inside a docking bay, where it was safe from the elements, to be covered by highly protective space tarp was in itself of great interest, and the shape of the object made it hard for him to discern what it was. Hideki stared hard to study the vague outline, but all he got was an impression of bulk and height. A little tapering on the top … a communication hub, perhaps … and a square middle, which was … What could be so important that—
Hideki supposed he could use the scanners in Assumption to see if they could decipher what was under the space tarp. But then he remembered that space tarp was resistant to most probes, even capable of shielding objects from space radiation.
"Welcome to Space Station Marion," said a tired sounding voice. "I'm Mason Green, your official escort."
Hideki jumped down the last few rungs of the ladder, knowing the low gravity setting of the station would mean less impact when he hit the floor. After placing both his feet on the floor of the docking bay, Hideki turned his attention to Mason Green, a small man in a shabby official uniform with frayed edges and scruffy graviton boots.
Hideki looked around carefully at the apparent lack of people in the dock and wondered where everyone was. Space station inspectors were as infamous as the space plague but drew in more crowds wherever they went. Perhaps everyone was watching his arrival through cams in the safety of their quarters.
He cleared his throat and swallowed a couple of times. "I'm Inspector Hideki Takamura on behalf of the International Space Federation, here to inspect your facility to ensure it meets all the necessary safety standards for human occupation." He hated making this face-to-face announcement but he was under obligation to do so. Though he'd announced his presence as soon as he'd entered the space station orbit, law demanded that he do the same in person when he was physically inside the actual station.
"I can assure you Marion isn't—"
"Marion," Hideki said carefully, forcing his mouth to move after days of disuse. "I was under the impression this was called—"
"Inspector Takamura, as you know, a space station is named by its people, not some distant administrative board that's never seen the inside of a passenger transport. We're a civilian-run, privately owned space station and we—"
"So the official name is …" There was very little chance that he was at the wrong station but perhaps Assumption had drifted off course while he was in semi-hibernation.
"It's The Grand Adventure, official reference number 1407 and we're in the Spiral Archway Three," Green told him a little grumpily, as if Hideki had forced him to utter swear words. "This way." He gestured for Hideki to follow him out of the docking bay through what was marked 'Right Exit'.
At least he was in the right place. Hideki took in the details one more time, watching the droids that had been moving Assumption clear off the docking tube, detach the cables and roll away the ladder. They were a collection of droids of different makes, though they worked as a unit. Some were larger than others and all were of diverse colors and sporting various identification tags.
Hideki frowned but refrained from inquiring why the service droids looked to be from different time periods. He was more troubled that they actually worked in a cohesive unit: it spoke of someone rallying the station resources to try and improve their standards.
"Has there been any recent space pirate activity in the vicinity?" Hideki asked as soon as they cleared the hangar bay. "Any attacks, or …?" He let the rest of the sentence drift off. He didn't want to know if there were pirates aboard the station.
"You'll have to discuss why you're here tomorrow with Station Manager Tan." Green was doing the classic keeping his mouth shut act, which was a little annoying but not unexpected.
"What happened to Vincent Manning?"
According to Hideki's information, the call for help had come from Vincent Manning, the Chief Manager for the Space Station. He had been the contact person for the last ISF inspector, John Turnbull, who'd made the initial assessment of the station. Turnbull had been rather vague in his report, writing only that space pirates were attacking the station and everyone needed to be evacuated. And Hideki was the forerunner to the evacuation fleet that would be arriving two weeks behind him. And for something much more destructive.
"He was relieved of his duties." Probably for contacting the ISF and for speaking to Turnbull.
"I know you plan on staying with us for some time," Green told him as he used smooth, long strides to propel himself off the sides of the narrow tube down which they were travelling. "I'll take you to your quarters. Do you have any personal belongings?"
Hideki didn't correct Green. The evacuation orders were meant for the station manager. Hideki always travelled with his data cubes in his pockets and an emergency decompression suit under his clothes. "I'll come back for them later," Hideki said as he moved carefully, grateful the gravity was set to low. He was still suffering from a case of space legs. However, he wondered why such a large space station had such low g. Much lower than standard space station g as required by ISF. Which was between Earth's g and .9g.
Grand Adven—Marion had been designed during the Third Space Age, when the architects were experimenting with novel structural components. As a result, the station was not the usual cylindrical shape, which rotated to generate its own gravity. However, the documents Hideki had gone over during his long flight informed him that the station was equipped with four gravity generators, each capable of providing an artificial gravitation field large enough for the entire station.
"I'm taking you through the mess hall," Green told him as they reached a junction in the tubes. "You can grab something to eat if you want to."
Hideki wasn't so naive as not to suspect a reason for his being steered towards a particular location. However, he didn't bother protesting. He wasn't particularly hungry but knew he needed to eat, and anything Marion offered was probably better than his space rations.
"How do you process your food?" he asked.
"We grow our own vegetables hydroponically. Most of them, anyway. We have food replicators, and some of the off-world traders barter food in exchange for services rendered."
Hideki frowned at the information. It indicated a stable economy, not a station at risk.
"We have some settlers from Orange and Way of the Will—er, close by pioneer planets who want to trade for technical help."
Hideki didn't remember the planets having such names, but he supposed just as the space station had been renamed, the planets had also acquired local names.
They walked a little further down the corridor and slid down an open hatch, using the walls to slow their descent, until they came to rest outside a compartment door with 'Dining Hall' on it in Standard English, Universal and Hanzi. They were closer to the centre of the station now, and Hideki could feel the gravity, much less than Earth standard though close to Luna base standard, pull at his legs, making his knees shake a little, his joints protesting at the sudden shift in weight. It seemed he was reaching the limits of his body.
"This is where the crew eat, so don't expect anything fancy," Green informed Hideki as he walked towards the door. "But it's free. If you want some gourmet cooking, I'd suggest the Floating Food off the third auxiliary tube past Engineering. There's a bar as well, and most off station personnel relax and mingle with the crew."
"Thank you," Hideki said blankly. No
w that a chance to rest had materialized, he just wanted to go to his quarters and sleep. He hoped he had a bunk to himself and some privacy, but he was not about to complain even if it was in a shared dorm. His body needed to recover, which meant he was about to crash—soon.
"Let me get this open," Green said as he waved his hands up and down in order to get the sensors to take notice.
"Does this often malfun—"
Hideki didn't have the time to finish his inquiry before the door slid open with the familiar hiss of standard airlock doors.
Either everyone in Marion was having a party or they were there for a reason—for example, to catch a glimpse of the space station inspector who had just arrived. Hideki cast Green a quick look, but the man had scuttled away as soon as the doors had opened.
Hideki braced himself for the usual hostility that came with his title. He would have preferred to carry out his job in secret, but space law demanded that he identify himself from the start. None of the glamorous undercover detective work for him. Anyway, once the evacuation order came, it wasn't as if he could pretend it wasn't his fault.
The dining hall was a large room with bolted-down tables and magnetic chairs scattered around. It was a very utilitarian area with no extra fringes, no color, no personal touches. Hideki hoped the Floating Food had a better atmosphere. The food was served in gray bowls placed on grey trays, and everyone seated had at least one bowl in front of them.
There were a few people standing as well, men and women in a variety of spacer clothes, body hugging with minimum decoration, all very practical looking. Everyone sported arm bands that identified them as station crew and wore emergency helmet rings around their necks.
Hideki had read his brief; Marion could be run by a minimum of two hundred and fifteen. The station at the time of the last census had had three hundred and twenty four personnel aboard. Not an excessive number by any means, but by the looks of it, every single spare crew member seemed to have found a reason to be in the dining hall.