As the Gravity Flipped

by Herschel K. Stroganoff

"No, but the way the pair of you have been going around lately, I could tell you were up to something like this. And what you said the other day, on the capsule line."

  "You can get to the cleaning stores. No one would suspect you if you did," he said, placing a hand on Janis's.

  "I could get to the cleaning stores when I was working, but how am I supposed to get across to the other platform without raising suspicions? Haven't the higher-ups stopped the capsules?"

  "Arfo said he can fit you with a self-propelled vacuum suit. He said you'd just need to go up the capsule line to the other side."

  "Right."

  "There won't be anyone on that side except for a few of the higher-ups. We just need you to mix some cleaning chemicals."

  Janis pulled her hand back and scratched her head. "But we're not meant to mix them. It's poison."

  Mataes said nothing.

  "Is there no one else who--."

  Mataes turned to face her. "There's no one, Janis. You can do this. I believe in you."

  "Okay," she said. "And what should I say if I get stopped?"

  "We'll do it when the higher-ups are asleep. And if you are stopped, just say there's an issue over on our side with the toilets. They're not going to show their faces on this side any time soon."

  "When were you thinking?"

  "There are a few things we need to prepare, but if you want to help us, it will mean so much to me. Being willing to make this sacrifice is amazing. I like you, Janis."

  Janis smiled as Mataes held her hands. "If this is what we need to do to help everyone, I'll do it."

  "That's great Janis," he said. "That's really great." His smile broadened. "I'll let Arfo know you're in. And remember - don't say a word to anyone about this."

  Janis flushed, then shook her head. "I won't. I wouldn't."

  # # #

  Akira: Offices of Lunar Chronicle, Insularum 2, Lunar

  07/06/6,544, 18:15 (IST)

  Akira Yamamoto's fingers ached as she typed at her terminal. Her news editor Osuma Imamura stood over her, his breath loud in her left ear.

  "No, no, no. The story is that Kurosawa chinned Ozu, that's what you need to go in on," said Osuma.

  Akira huffed, then pushed her thick-lens glasses back up her nose. "I get that, but the vote is more important. The implications--."

  "Yeah, yeah," Osuma said, waving his hand close to Akira's ear. "You mention the vote lower down. No one wants to read another one of your long reports about some bloody Assembly meeting. Honestly Akira, the main thing about this story is the fact Kurosawa got arrested - everything else is a footnote."

  Akira flinched as Osuma leaned over her. He was close enough for her to smell the stale sweat on his crumpled pink shirt and see flecks of dandruff collected around his bald-patch. She couldn't work out how Osuma could be so skinny and gangly while bloated and shrunken. Not for the first time that day, Akira glared at Osuma.

  She looked around at the newsroom; a pale shadow of its former self, its empty terminals daily reminders of the redundant journalists she'd been friends with, slept with, hated, or loved, but through one cost-cutting exercise after another had been pushed out of the industry. She was the last bulwark, a relic, an empty ship rattling through space on its own aimless trajectory.

  "I'm sure Ken will back me up on this," Akira said with a hostile tone.

  She sat straight, raising her glasses from her nose and perching them along her hairline. Her tight ponytail did nothing to hide her almost childish face, with its chubby cheeks and button nose. It was only the dark wrinkles around her eyes that gave clues to her being only a few years from retirement.

  "Well it must be serious if you're planning on pulling rank," Osuma said. "You always do this. Trust me, Ken's in this business to sell stories--."

  "What's this?" said Ken Nakamura. Akira turned at the sound of his half-drunk drawl. "I always know there's something up when you're standing a bit too close to someone."

  Akira grinned to herself as she saw Osuma take a step backward then stand straight at the edge of her peripheral vision.

  "She's got a great story," Osuma said. "Get this: the Lunar Vice Secretary took a swing at the Secretary - at the Secretary!"

  "So what's the debate?" Ken stared at Akira, his grey eyes unmoving beneath his tall grey hair. He wore a washed-out red suit trimmed with leather and silk. Many years before, it was the height of fashion - an ostentatious sign of wealth and status that Akira used to find pathetic, but now made her yearn for better days.

  "There's a much bigger story behind this, but I need more time," she said. "First--," she held up her fingers to count off her points. "One: United Solar voted to legalise projectile and explosive weapons.

  "Second: these can be used by any US Affiliates, but not citizens.

  "Three: the wording of the motion was suspect, what the fuck does 'putting security at risk' even mean?

  "Four: the vote was forced through by the Secretary using a piece of an obscure rule in the constitution - this has never been done before. I mean, the Secretary's never attended an Assembly meeting in person before.

  "Five: the timing seems incredibly suspect. Think about it, there's no way the Yao would have backed such a motion. Suddenly, they're out of the picture, and we get this massive change. The Boeki were calling foul on this during the meeting, and I'm pretty sure that's why Kurosawa smacked Ozu.

  "The whole thing stinks, and it's pointing to some very dark things."

  "Alright," Ken said, gesturing for quiet. "This all seems very complicated. We can't risk getting something like this wrong. If we make accusations against Ozu, it's got to be solid."

  "But--,"

  "Write up the story as Osuma wants it. Make it punchy," he said with a sly wink.

  "This is ridiculous." Akira slammed a fist against her terminal, blowing up a small cloud of dust.

  "If you let me finish," he said with an exasperated chuckle. "Get this story on the feeds now, and we'll talk about taking you off news desk to follow this up. If you're right, and if you're saying what I think you are - and, of course, if you can bloody prove it - then we're onto a huge story."

  Akira rubbed the back of her neck, adjusting the collar of her thick cotton shirt. "Thank you," she said, straitening her back. "I won't let you down."

  As Ken walked away, she turned and scowled at Osuma. "Twat," she whispered.

  # # #

  Garrett: Customs House, V5 Orbiter, Venus

  09/06/6,544, 04:56 (IST)

  Garrett woke first as the daylight lamp came on and the door swung open. A customs agent he did not recognise entered the cell. His face was thin and his hand rested on the black stunner at his side. "Wake up, you two," he said through a yawn. "We've received communication from Lunar."

  Garrett sat up and stretched as Ifan rolled over and coughed. He caught the lingering smell of tomato soup from their empty bowls resting on the table. "Ifan," Garrett said. "Get up."

  "Wha--." Ifan rolled back over and opened his eyes. "What's the time?"

  "It's early, it's late, it depends on who's asking," the customs agent said. "We've had a message from Investigator Dumi of the Judiciary. Is there anything to add your earlier statement?"

  Garrett shook his head. "No," he said.

  "Nothing," Ifan said as he sat up on the rolled-out bed mat, with stiff, strained motion.

  "Then thank you for your cooperation. You're free to go," the customs agent said.

  Garrett raised his eyebrows. "Just like that?"

  "Just like that." The customs agent gave a half shrug.

  Ifan rose to his feet and brushed the creases from his coveralls. "Fantastic," he said. "It's about time."

  # # #

  Besuto selects Takeshi Ozu as Secretarial candidate

  Originally published by Lunar Chronicle, 02/07/6,533

  The Besuto party has selected Rep Takeshi Ozu (Vaporum 2) to stand as its candidate to run against incumbent Lunar Secretary Sho Okada in next year's electio
n.

  Rep Ozu was selected during a hustings event before Besuto members at its party headquarters, Vaporum 1, this evening.

  During the debate Rep Ozu told party members he wanted to give power back to the citizens of the eight provinces.

  He said: "Without union, without togetherness, we cannot prosper. If I am elected as your Secretary, I will work tirelessly to end the stranglehold of vested interests, to give power back to our citizens and to work towards devolved powers for Mars."

  Members selected Rep Ozu with 64 per cent of the vote over Rep Mitsuki Yamamoto (Vaporum 8) and Rep Minuro Naito (L4).

  Following the event, Rep Naito said: "I am very disappointed to have not been nominated, but Rep Ozu is an excellent candidate.

  "I fully endorse and support the party's decision."

  During the meeting Rep Hayao Kurosawa (Insularum 6) was selected as the Vice Secretarial candidate.

  # # #

  Chapter Three

  Ajay: Docking Bay, L2 Platform, Lunar

  12/05/6,544, 10:28 (IST)

  Ajay strode across the docking area in search of a customs agent. He looked between a pair of Boeki trade ships suspended like marionettes by thick docking lines. The ships were grey with thick rivets and sharp angles. Customs agents unloaded crates, then carried them across the steel walkways to the main central floor - a wide circle of bare concrete.

  He walked on past a Muedin cruiser, blue and white with smooth, seamless curves; a dozen local shuttles and a long-distance Fune transporter, all suspended from docking tethers.

  At a hundred metres from end-to-end, his own ship the Segrado was the smallest vessel in the dock: a chiselled black sphere against the backdrop of steel beams and the hundreds of Affiliates, traders, citizens and station officials - all busy, all with a purpose.

  Ajay smiled as he spotted a customs agent through the crowd. She was short, thin and had shoulder-length blonde hair.

  "Would you be able to put a call through to Farnham Daneel?" he asked.

  "Of course. Which ship are you with?".

  "The Philboyd."

  "And your name?"

  "Raul Merfan," Ajay said, resisting the urge to scratch his nose.

  "Would Farnham Daneel please make his way to Raul Merfan at dock one, bay fourteen," the officer said, speaking into her communicator. The announcement blared out across the station a fraction of a second later.

  "Thank you," Ajay said, handing the officer a Sol. She looked down at the small square coin then placed it in an inside pocket.

  "And thank you," she said, her smile widening.

  Through the stench of ship fuels and lubricants, he smelt the aroma of cooked pork and garlic as it drifted from one of the many food stalls beyond the docking bays. His stomach rumbled in response.

  "Raul, I presume?"

  Ajay turned to see a thin woman with yellow skin. She wore a white tunic over a light blue suit.

  "Madam Daneel?" he ventured, reaching out a hand. "Please, walk with me to the Philboyd."

  "I won't be boarding your ship," she said, her tone sharp, suspicious. "Please bring the items to my craft at bay thirty."

  Ajay looked over to the squat local transport shuttle suspended in bay thirty. "Give me a few minutes."

  "That's good," said Farnham. Without another word, shambled back to her ship.

  Ajay watched for a moment then turned to the Segrado's secondary airlock. Covering his hand, he keyed in the security code, then climbed into the hold as the air lock irised open. His eyes adjusted to the gloom as he hopped inside, the ship rocking against its tethers. Moving between two three-metre-cubed shipping crates, he lifted a hidden floor panel and pulled out a small leather bag.

  Tucking the bag into his jacket, he slid the floor panel back into place and stepped back out of the airlock. He jumped down from the Segrado onto the steel walkway and strode with brisk steps across the dock to bay thirty.

  As he reached the ship, he knocked on its open door and waited.

  "Please come aboard," Farnham said, gesturing to Ajay to hurry.

  He ducked his head as he climbed through the open airlock doors.

  "Can I see the item?" she asked.

  Ajay pulled the leather bag from his jacket and handed it to Farnham. She opened it with weak, trembling hands and frowned. "Is this a joke?" she asked, pulling out a hand-sized wooden pig.

  "No joke," Ajay said, sidling up to Farnham. "I'm an art dealer, remember?"

  Taking the carving in his hands, Ajay squeezed the pig's nose and tail. The carving clicked and swung open to reveal a hidden compartment lined with rubber, housing a vial of clear liquid.

  Farnham gasped as she took the vial. "And this is bio-equivalent? This will do exactly what the Muedin meds do?"

  Ajay rubbed his chin. "Not quite," he began. "We used to do bio-equivalent, but things have moved on - this is better. All the Muedin drugs do is keep the tumours stable. They won't kill you, but you're reliant. I think you already know that."

  Farnham squinted, pursing her lips.

  "We don't want to fuel reliance," Ajay said. "You won't have to come to us again, and you won't have to deal with Muedin again - at least as far is your cancer goes."

  "What are you saying?" Farnham asked in a low, hoarse voice.

  "I'm saying you take this as you would your normal meds. You'll feel lousy for a few weeks, but once everything clears out your system, you should feel much better."

  Farnham tilted her head and regarded the vial for several seconds. "I'm not sure," she said. "I've never done anything like this before. I mean--."

  "You mean because we're Purdah? Don't believe what you hear about us Madam Daneel. It's your choice as to whether we trade, but there's a lot of propaganda being pumped out through the newsfeeds about our operation."

  "Well--," Farnham paused and scratched behind her ear. "They say you're trying to undermine trade."

  Ajay smiled. "Where we can, but we're not against trade - we're traders after all. Trade is important. What we are against is monopolies - of products, of ideas. We go after groups like Muedin, Aghoro, Fune - any of the so-called Affiliates that stifle trade, innovation, and ultimately work against the citizens."

  "That's not what they've been saying about you."

  "Take your condition. Muedin has had a cure for a long time - I should know, we stole their research. But what did they do with that knowledge? Did they help the citizens?"

  Farnham shook her head.

  "That's right," Ajay said. "It's more profitable for them to keep selling you a stabilising meds. It works because United Solar does everything it can to protect Affiliates."

  "This can't be true," said Farnham with a deep, incredulous frown.

  "It's true," Ajay said.

  "Okay," she said raising her chin. "The price I was told is two-hundred Sols."

  "That's correct," Ajay said.

  Farnham fumbled in her pocket for a moment then pulled out a hexagonal two-hundred Sol piece. "And this is for everything?"

  "Everything."

  "You know Muedin charge four-hundred Sols for a single course of their meds?" Farnham asked, her eyes narrowing as she held the Sols against her chest.

  "Yes, and we know how much profit they make on that," Ajay said with a mirthless smile.

  Farnham handed over the coin. "I assume you're still making a good profit, then?"

  "More than enough," said Ajay, pocketing the coin. "We're traders after all."

  # # #

  Akira: Secretarial Palace, Insularum 1, Lunar

  09/06/6,544, 19:23 (IST)

  Out of breath, Akira ignored the tuts and glares. She squeezed past a row of reporters and found an empty seat to the rear of the hall. She craned her neck to see past the gathered Representatives, dignitaries and Affiliates.

  "It seems like anyone with even a whiff of power about them is here," she whispered to the stone-faced reporter on the seat to her left.

  The raised platform at the far end of
the hall was illuminated with a criss-cross of blue, red and white beams of light and adorned with the insignia of United Solar. The hum of conversation, coughs and shuffles became hushed as Lunar Secretary Takeshi Ozu took his place at the podium. Every cough, every sneeze, and every uncomfortable shuffle echoed and reverberate around the hall's grandiose pillars and swooping arches.

  Akira reached down to take her notepad out from her bag as Takeshi lifted his head and stepped up to the podium, surveying the field of white-clad mourners.

  "Fellow citizens," Takeshi said with a sombre tone. "We are here today to mourn the end of the Yao dynasty: a family whose power and influence has formed an important part of our lives since before our recorded history."

  "We have all been touched by the Yao's passing. The actions and deeds of this historic family have been felt from the orbiters of Mercury to the most remote parts of our Union beyond Neptune. From the ores that make our ships and the fuel that keeps them running to the jobs that put food on so many citizens' tables - the loss of the Yao is a loss to us all."

  Akira scowled as a faint murmuring of agreement spread through the hall. She scribbled down the speech verbatim, but this was a distraction. There were bigger issues in play.

  "But in these times of great sadness, there is optimism. In these times of strife, we are strong. In these times of uncertainty, we do not waiver."

  Akira sat up - this was not the tone of speech she was expecting.

  "My fellow citizens: for the last three days, the entire Union has seen for itself that our resolve in unshakable.

  "Tonight we are all awakened to danger and called to defend our freedom, to defend our security, to defend our families.

  "Through our grief, we find anger, but through our anger, we have found resolution.

  "Now is not the time for revenge: now is the time for justice." He paused for emphasis, for drama. "And justice will be done."

  Applause rang around the hall, spreading to a deafening crescendo. Akira's expression became grave, haunted.

  "Enemies of our way of life committed a crime not just against the Yao, but against us all," Takeshi continued as the applause faded. "Who attacked the Yao? The evidence we have points to a loosely affiliated terrorist network known as the Purdah.