by Ray, Joseph
“Geez, we’ve been married for five minutes and you’re already looking to cheat on me,” she informed him. “You’re lucky I don’t know any decent lawyers.”
Bearden laughed as he felt the Corporal’s arm slide under his. He arched his shoulder, allowing her to wrap her arm around his as they walked. The air was filled with various scents. Some were lavish perfumes that tiny, elderly ladies tried to spray on people as they passed. Others came from the buildings, the open doors to the restaurants taunting their empty stomachs. They passed a dark alley between two rows of buildings when something caught the Sargent’s attention.
“Wait,” he muttered.
He pulled her arm, dragging her along to a group of men huddled around the side entrance to one of the stores. He judged their appearance, hoping that his estimation was correct. The men were all young, barely adults in his eyes. All six of them were slender, with dark hair that pressed against their foreheads. Three wore black tank tops, displaying the artistic tattoos on their shoulders and arms. The others wore similar baggy white shirts as the street peddlers, all looking at a man kneeling on the ground, showing them something in a black case.
“You want something?” one of the sleeveless men asked as he noted the couple’s approach. “The store’s entrance is to the front if you’re lost.”
Bearden caught a glimpse of the black case before the kneeling man could close it. He smiled, thankful that he had guessed correctly.
“We need some quick bars,” he stated, remembering that Parasus often used sticks of metal as currency instead of digital credits. He lifted his shirt, showing the two pistols he’d stashed into his belt. “Think you can help us out.”
“You a fool?” one of the men asked. “You look like a cop. We don’t deal with you.”
Bearden laughed.
“Do you really think I’m a cop? Yeah, ex-marine and I keep it tight, but definitely not a cop. We just need to lose our hardware. So make me an offer.”
“How many?”
“Three and a few extra clips.”
“Let’s see one.”
Bearden pulled one out of his belt, ejected the clip, unleashed the shell in the chamber, caught it in mid-air, and handed it to the man he assumed to be in charge.
The tanned man looked the gun over, letting it rise and fall in his hand, inspecting the weight. He pulled the top, looking for powder burns.
“You used it recently. You two on the run?”
“Not your problem,” Bearden replied. “Just need a fair price.”
“They’re heavy, some good hardware ya got here. I say ten bars each, five per clip.”
Bearden snatched the gun from his hand before the young man could finish the sentence. He stuffed it back in his belt and shook his head.
“No deal. You’ll sell it for two hundred each, so don’t fill me with crap. Fifty each and I throw in the clips for free.”
“Deal,” the man with the case interrupted.
“The hell?” the man in front asked. “He wasn’t talking to you.”
“No, but my money speaks to him,” he said, pulling a small pile of metal sticks from his left hip pocket. “Maybe I sell them to you for a fair price. Say one-fifty each. You could still sell for two hundred as big red said.”
The couple unloaded their weapons and ammo, taking the handful of bars, and returning to the busy streets. They could still hear the men arguing amongst themselves briefly before the noise and commotion of the street filled their ears.
“This one,” Janys informed him, pulling him into a narrow building.
He followed, uncertain if he cared for the clothing displayed on the racks. He tried to protest, but the thin lady was dragging him with unseen strength between mounds of clothes. A few tables were sprinkled amongst the racks, piles of clothes of all styles laying haphazardly everywhere.
“You won’t find anything for you up front,” a man informed him from the corner of the room. “Big guy like yourself needs to go to the back. It looks like a mess, but my wife keeps the women’s clothes in the front, men’s in the back. Small sizes first, bigger sizes towards the back.”
“Thanks,” Janys offered cheerfully.
It took twenty minutes, but the couple managed to find similar attire to the people that littered the streets outside. Bearden tried to protest, but she had a white, short sleeve, button-up short on him in no time flat. She handed him a gray, silk shirt, and a pair of black shorts and pushed him to the changing room. He returned, feeling foolish as she made him turn around and pose. She gave him a wide, beige straw hat with a blue band to finish the ensemble. She disappeared into another booth, returning in a dress that wrapped her body. It was blue, with white flowers, stopping just above her knees. The tiny white sandals finished off the outfit as she flopped a blue hat onto her head.
“You’ll need these,” the man started, placing two pieces of luggage on the counter.
“Eh, how much for all this?” Bearden asked, looking at the pile of clothes.
The man smiled and opened the luggage cases. There were a few tiny bags inside, as well as a few personal grooming devices.
“People lose their luggage all the time,” the man started. “If you’re buying all those clothes, I throw in these bags and everything they came with. Say, fifty bars for the whole thing.”
Bearden saw something on the tiny shelf behind the man, something no vacationer should ever be without. He motioned with his hand and nodded. The man saw what he wanted, looked to the couple, and chose a pair of sunglasses for each of them.
“Now we’re at fifty,” Bearden replied, handing over the bars.
“Thank you, please come again.”
They loaded the cases, which Bearden decided to carry himself. They returned to the street, making for the docks. Janys bought kabobs, which they ate as they walked. They stopped for a pint of foul tasting beer, but the alcohol aided in loosening their exhausted muscles. By the time they reached the port, they started to feel like a tourist. They looked and felt exhausted, their faces were a mess, and they had the happy, yet I’m dying to get out of here look as everyone around them.
***************
“We’re nearing the ring,” the pilot informed the crew.
The crew of the military transport harrier leaned to the windows, gazing upon the vast object as they approached. It was difficult to appreciate how large forty-seven miles long and five miles in diameter truly were until one sees it for themselves. The outer shell of the Gabriel Ring was black, reflecting the lights of the stars. Rings of windows wrapped around one end, indicating where the workers were stationed. The center of the ring was nothing more than empty space though all knew the green and blue hues that would line the edges when it prepared to launch a vessel to the next system. The docked on the outer edge, much the way a flea jumps onto a dog.
The harrier closed in, the wall of black engulfing their view of the solar system. At the moment, Neptune had been the only planet visible, with Pluto far off in its orbit. The Gabriel Ring made its own orbit, ensuring that it remained aligned with the Earth at all times. As they neared the docking ring, a long tube reached out to them, gently locking onto the seal around the exterior hatch and pulling the ship to the locking clamps.
Several minutes passed before the pressure was filled into the docking station, allowing for Sanchez to open the exterior hatch. The military escorts went first, followed by the scientist, Jones, and the two pilots. Unlike their time at the Cyber lab, the pilots did not feel like remaining in the ship, clinging onto the Gabriel Ring when there were more interesting activities inside.
The door to the ring slid open with a loud hiss, a series of air portals blowing each person as they passed through the doorway. Vanessa seemed upset as her hair was blown out of style, forcing her to pull a mirror from her bag and work it back into shape. Jones felt the door slide shut in a swoop of wind, the tail of his jacket flapping against his backside.
“So there you are,” a short ma
n in a gray uniform muttered. “Welcome to the Gabriel Ring, blah blah, try not to break anything.”
“Well, glad to see manners exist in space,” Keenan replied, heaving his bag to his other hand.
The short man’s features scrunched on his face as he leaned into the heavy-set historian. The man’s brows were thick, adding more emphasis to his distaste.
“Now look, just because you got some document from the Vice President that says I have to help you, doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it. As far as I’m concerned, you’re all just a pain in my ass that I have to keep scratching til it goes away. So can the theatrics and realize that you’re on a military station. You got it, baldie?”
Jones tried not to laugh as the short man’s hair was terribly thin. A few more years of regression would leave him looking the same as Keenan though far less fat. Keenan stepped back, straightening out his spine to appear taller, managing to gain enough leverage to look down upon the man.
“We are here on a scientific expedition,” Keenan replied. “The likes of which are highly confidential. And, since we DO have a pretty document from the Vice President, you will do whatever we ask you to, do YOU understand?”
“Oh, I understand,” the man laughed. “So let’s start over. My name is Major Isaac. I am the Commander of this Gabriel Ring for another month another officer fills my rotation. I have no intention of being the first Commander to allow chaos to run amok since the rings were first built. So, you will do exactly what I say, go where you are told to go, and stay out of places we tell you are not safe. If you are not able to comply, I’ll have you thrown through the airlock. I may not even care if it’s the one to your ship.”
Major Isaac performed an about-face, his boots snapping on the metal floor of the docking station. The military escorts laughed as they followed the Major through the hallway, which only led to another hallway. The scientist tried to keep track of all the turns, though they quickly gave up after the sixth right turn, having already lost count of how many lefts.
The group was led to a series of personnel quarters, appointing each person to their own room. The Marines dove into theirs though the two scientists seemed off-put at the small size of the quarters. Jones ignored their complaints as he circled past the Major and claimed his own room.
Jones threw his bag on the thin bed and started to unpack. He pulled out a stack of dark brown shirts, a stack of slightly less dark pants, and enough socks and underwear to last a week. The remainder of his belongs remained in their cases as he tucked the bag under the bed.
Sanchez and his men stayed behind as the experts were led to the maintenance room. The Major was all too pleased to leave them in the hands of one Lieutenant Anderson, a wide man with permanently black stained hands from years of working on the machinery of the ring. His eyes were close to his short nose, with a tiny gray mustache hanging over thin lips. He had a dark gray jumpsuit over his uniform though the buttons were undone halfway down, exposing the stained white shirt beneath.
“So, you folks are mine, huh?” Anderson laughed after Isaacs left the room. “You can relax, I won’t rough ya up like the Major did.”
Vanessa and Keenan let out a sigh of relief as the jolly man continued to laugh at the tension they showed. Jones leaned against the wall, happy to sit back and observe.
“Now I’m sure the Major gave ya a speech bout his rules and what not. Well, the same goes here. There’s some dangerous stuff in this place, so go where I tell ya. Been working here for thirty years and I’ve only lost two lives. One was a heart attack, so don’t go worrying bout that. The other was an accident, I’m afraid. Young kid, bout ten years ago. Didn’t have the chemical relief valve shut before he went in to clean the injectors. I’ll just tell ya he died screaming and leave it at that.”
Anderson paused, watching two of his men enter the door near Jones, retrieve a box full of strange parts, and then exit without muttering a word. His bushy brows raised as he looked at the group, waiting for someone to say something. After a few seconds, he realized that it was still his turn to speak.
“Well, okay. So what we lookin’ for anyway? We just had our bi-annual inspection last month, so I know you’re not here for that.”
“I’m afraid we can’t tell you,” Keenan replied. “It’s classified.”
“Well, ain't that a problem then? This could be a real long search if I don’t know what you’re looking for. Maybe you’ll still be here when I rotate back in a few months.”
Jones smiled, pushing himself from the wall and walking over the Lieutenant. He towered over the man, but he hunched slightly to avoid intimidation. Sometimes, it’s best to let a nice person be nice.
“They’re looking for Gabriel,” Jones informed him. “The reason is classified, but I see no point in not telling you.”
“Yes, I can agree to that much,” Keenan added. “Gabriel, one of the first Cybers……”
“Don’t go tellin’ me who Gabriel is. Hell, this is called a GABRIEL Ring, isn’t it? Course, you’re not the first ones to come here looking for him, but, that’s your business. If you give me a minute, I’ll pull up the notes from the last time we had scientists up here.”
The man slid around the control panel in the center of the room. His stained hands went to work, flowing across the screen as commonly as a person bathes themselves. His fingers did the search, starting with a list of guests over the years, arranged by job title.
“Let’s see, auditor, engineer, military….nope, those aren’t it. Ah, scientist and historians.”
The screen went dark, then brought up a long list of historians and various forms of scientists who visited the ring over the years. The list was long, but not so long as to require scrolling down the page. Anderson held down a blank button in the lower left corner, then tapped on a few of the names. He went back and forth, changing the font color and clustering the names in groups of when they’d visited. It took a little time to realize that they were the seventh expedition to come to this very ring.
“Now, I’ll do a quick reference to Gabriel….”
The man brought up a file search, punching in ‘Gabriel’ onto the keypad that appeared. The panel thought for a second, then darkened three of the groups names.
“Well, that narrows it down. Now I’ll pull up their findings.”
The screen filled with boxes, each containing the notes from the other group’s findings. The four people looked them over, seeing, at least, a hundred pages of text that needed to be studied.
“Well, you three have fun. I’m going to the men’s room.”
He disappeared, leaving the trio to finish the search. The two experts stood shoulder to shoulder while Jones stood on the opposite side, reading much of the text upside-down.
“That group must have had US in mind,” Jones stated, pointing to a block of text. “At least, they had the sense to list the rooms they’d searched.”
“Yes, but do we trust their findings?” Vanessa asked, reading a block of text in the lower left corner.
“I’d say yes,” Keenan replied. “We start with whatever they DIDN’T search, then we can go back over the areas they DID check, just to be certain.”
“Sounds smart,” Jones added. “It may go quicker if we split into teams. We could each take an escort with us. Maybe Anderson will find us two more experts.”
“You can take the Major then,” Keenan stated. “Man gets on my last nerve.”
“Don’t be so quick to judge them,” Jones replied. “Space fatigue can wear on a person, especially those who have multiple tours of duty out here. They can recreate everything artificially, but there’s something to be said about fresh air.”
They trio worked in unison, marking sectors of the station that had already been searched, and highlighting those that had not. The researched the unsearched areas, making certain that they weren’t attempting to enter a dangerous area.
“Well, got it all figured out?” Anderson asked, returning from his break.
“In a manner of speaking,” Jones informed him. “We’ll break up into teams. I’ll take Sanchez and whoever the Lieutenant can afford. The three of us shall take these areas.”
He highlighted the areas on the map, then flipped them across the screen. The highlighted areas filled his datapad, which he placed in his pocket. Anderson made a call, bringing two more maintenance engineers to the room. Jones called the Marines to them, informing them of the details.
Jones was led by a young woman named Tiffany. He stayed back, watching her ponytail wave back and forth as she walked. She spoke quickly, all of her energy thrust upon Sanchez as the two led the way. They reached the first area on the map after twenty minutes, though Jones had little hope of finding the missing Cyber. He’d chosen strategically, selecting areas that didn’t require taking a shuttle to reach.
The first room was marked as storage on the map, but the view from the doorway told him a different story. Cots were aligned in rows, with portable medical stations at the foot of every third cot.
“You want to explain this?” Jones asked.
“Oh,” Tiffany started. “We had a huge flu outbreak a few years back. They had to turn this into a quarantine zone. Guess they never took everything out afterward, huh.”
Jones sighed, then turned and left the pair in the middle of the room. The next room on the list offered little reward, displaying long shelves full of non-perishable items, mostly feminine hygiene. It seemed the supply officer came upon a deal he couldn’t pass up.
“So, what do you do?” Sanchez finally asked.
“Oh, me? I’m the tech in charge of the air scrubbers.”
“Really, that’s interesting.”
“Thanks. It’s a big job.”
“Well, we’re all glad to be breathing.”
Jones sighed and rolled his eye, growing weary of the pathetic attempt at flattery. He admitted that the young woman had more than an ounce of appeal, but he doubted she had more than a handful of brain cells bouncing around in her skull. Still, the back and forth conversation offered him with an opportunity.