by Sean Platt
The climber’s wheels creaked and squealed, sounds conveyed into the shuttle’s interior as they telegraphed through the members and into the pressurized gasses in the passenger compartment. In space, with no air to vibrate, those sounds wouldn’t exist. To Kate, who wore a fearless front no matter how she felt, the sounds were reassuring. They told her that the wheels were still grabbing the ribbon that rose from (or was it “descended from”?) the moon, holding her fast instead of flinging her off into space. The shuttle’s ion drives couldn’t land on the rock (that was the reason the elevator existed — to save transport dollars that might otherwise have been spent on fuel and rockets), so without the tether, she’d have to return to Earth or float in space until her heaters failed and turned her into a girlsicle.
As she thought about it, she realized she wasn’t even sure how she’d land on Earth if she were flung off and realized that it might not be possible. On the way down from the moon, the lunar elevator essentially flung her back into low Earth orbit once she reached its end, and the ion drives were powerful enough to land from there as long as she was met by a descender once inside the NAU dome. But without the moon’s slingshot, could the drives punch her back through the atmosphere? She had no idea, and that made her nervous. Kate also had no clue if she could pilot her way down to the equatorial, Earth-based space elevator and take a ride down that particular tether if she had to. Apparently, there was a way to ride the Earth elevator up then hop onto the lunar elevator, but the timing and positions all had to be very precise. In addition to skipping the equatorial journey (that was too close to the Wild East for her, island-based or not), Kate didn’t trust the common-sense logistics of a dual-elevator run. Both of the two elevators were essentially giant fishing lines strung out into space, held taut by massive counterweights as their respective bodies rotated like lassos spun above a cowboy’s head. How did the eggheads ensure that the two lines never ran into each other? Maybe the distance was too large; Kate had no clue. But regardless, didn’t it seem like asteroids would be crashing into them all the time? The thought of Earth wagging its giant dick out into space felt like flipping eternity the bird. Planets were supposed to be round, and hang out below their own atmosphere. Giant lines strung into space felt to Kate like the planet walking around with toilet paper stuck to its shoe.
As the climber approached the pocked lunar surface, the sensation stopped feeling like climbing and, as her orientation flipped, began to feel like descent. Kate had been moving at a constant speed for a while now, and her gravity, absent acceleration, had again vanished. She began to feel a new sense of gravity coming from the moon, tugging on her not like Earth’s forceful hand, but more like a gentle reminder. The climber began to brake, and she felt herself press harder into the seat (they swiveled during the climb so that acceleration/deceleration force was always to the rider’s rear) as the works passed the central dome’s force field. Even though nothing changed inside the cabin, Kate felt herself relax. No matter how you sliced it, she was inside again. The force field kept the air in and the emptiness out.
A soft female voice said, “Welcome to Perseus Lunar Base at L1. Your shuttle will de-dock shortly. Please keep your safety harness fastened, and refrain from moving about the cabin. We thank you for using the Perseus elevator, and hope your stay on the moon is a pleasant one.”
“Thanks, back at you, hon,” Kate said. “I’ll put my seatback and my tray table in their upright and locked positions.”
There was a chirp, and the same voice said, “I’m sorry, Ms. Rigby. I didn’t get that. How may I assist you?”
Kate looked at her wrist, saw goose bumps, then peered at the display to check the time. She was behind schedule. She’d still be able to handle everything tidily if she kept moving but really hated to rush. The Perseus station was like an enormous mall, boasting many sorts of distractions that were still illegal on Earth. It was a shame to be all the way up on the moon without any time to partake. The thought made Kate consider the canvas’s soft voice before she responded, wondering what kind of a body and face it would have if it were human.
“Nothing, darlin’.”
The climber’s final descent, now that it had acquired a sixth of its Earth weight near the lunar surface, was painfully slow. The dual straps of Kate’s harness, pressing her ample breasts flat against her chest, were uncomfortable. Temperature control was always temperamental as environments blended. She began to sweat.
“Let’s hurry this along.”
“Docking will be complete shortly, Ms. Rigby,” said the soft voice. “Please remain seated with your harness fastened.”
From the bottom (or was it the top?), the tether’s anchored base looked like a skyscraper. Massive bolts bored into the rock held the thing in place, the weight held from its end by centripetal force. The moon’s revolution was much slower than Earth’s, and the counterweight on this tether’s end was smaller, but the force on the elevator still had to be enormous. If the screws somehow loosened, would the elevator fling off into space? And if so, would it come crashing down in the NAU breadbasket like a massive carbon tapeworm?
Kate watched as the climber reached the base, marveling at its sheer size. Looking up, the elevator — a wide gray ribbon extending impossibly far upward, the counterweight visible as a blob at its tip in the stark sunlight — seemed to soar into forever. It looked like a very narrow building, but in reality, it was flexible and would decay into a curve if the moon decided to slow down or if some asshole hit it hard enough. But from the bottom, it looked straight and solid, like a smooth gray Kubrick monolith.
The carriage stopped, the seat rotated to put gravity below her feet, and the canvas told Kate she could exit. She did, feeling unsteady as always. The low gravity was hard to get used to, and even her normal steps wanted to toss her into the top of the hatch.
Moving tentatively as she worked for her moon legs, Kate left the shuttle and descended the gantry. Once at the bottom, she took a moment to look up at the enormous structure. The shuttle had seemed large when she’d climbed in on Earth, but the climber holding her conveyance now absolutely dwarfed it…and the elevator’s base — all struts, Plasteel girders, wires, and what she assumed were pneumatic lines — made even the climber’s flat shape seem tiny.
Kate looked up at the elevator one more time before moving away. It felt right to pay proper respect to the enormity of space, and to the commonplace marvel of her casual trip. Then she left the elevator technicians to de-dock her shuttle, knowing that once she’d cleared the hub, she could pick it up again. With a nod to a man in blue coveralls, she headed off on foot.
The elevator was in a massive warehouse dome and felt like a train station mixed with a repair garage. The sounds were all sharp and too full of echo. Kate could hear the clatter of a luggage shuttle from a recently arrived and de-docked civilian transport all the way across the dome. She could hear a pinging noise — the sound of a hammer striking metal or Plasteel — somewhere that she couldn’t pinpoint. The buzz of conversation formed a soup overhead, seeming to assault Kate from everywhere as she made her way toward the main hub down a utilitarian strip of red carpet.
But before she could make the door, a blunt voice hit Kate like a bludgeon.
“Hey, hon,” it said. “You’re dragging your panties.”
Kate spun. Three elevator mechanics were leaning against an enormous rivet-driving rig, their faces and hands smudged with grease. All were smiling, and one was pointing. Kate followed his finger and saw that something had, indeed, sneaked its way mostly out of her bag, dangling onto the carpet beneath the bag’s built-in hovercart. Not panties, but a sweatshirt. She didn’t plan to stay for more than a few hours, but sometimes lunar environments (especially the poorly insulated ones used by her smuggling ilk) were chilly, and she’d learned to be prepared.
She reached down and tucked it in, then resumed walking.
“What, no thanks?”
Kate stopped then turned. The man was grin
ning like he had a coat hanger stuck in his mouth. Against his dirty face, his teeth seemed especially white.
“Thanks.”
“Maybe she can show you her thanks,” said the man beside him, also grinning.
Kate rolled her eyes and again began walking toward the door. The elevator was anchored in the middle of an absolutely titanic space. Plenty of people took hoverskippers or dedicated surface transports to reach the hub, where the hamster tubes converged, but Kate was her own woman, and hoverskippers were for tourists. The downside was this sort of thing — this inconvenience of fraternizing with locals. Looking as Kate did, this wasn’t the first time she’d been courted by garage Casanovas.
“Look at that,” said a new voice behind Kate’s back, apparently belonging to the third man in the group. “She’s not even thankful. She would’ve gotten her panties all dirty if not for you.”
A chorus of manly laughter chased the comment.
“Not nice!” the first man yelled.
Kate stopped again. They’d cease their catcalls soon enough. The elevator was used by all types, from scientists to miners to businesspeople to nuns to civilians who didn’t mind microgravity living as an alternative to Earth’s hurly-burly. Beam AI watched the entire garage, but it didn’t take AI to spot behavior unbecoming the Perseus Corporation and its contract to run the lunar elevator. If the workers kept running their mouths and the AI didn’t flag them (which it would), a supervisor would surely intervene. The workers knew how far they could push and where to stop, but they were still working Directorate guys and couldn’t resist getting their dicks out over a pretty lady.
Kate slid her bag to the side, tapped the handle to turn off the hovercart, and allowed it to settle onto the concrete before turning to approach the men. She’d been told often that she didn’t walk like a lady, but her appearance more than made up for it. She was over 180 centimeters tall, with large breasts that defied gravity even on the planet below. She had straight blonde hair that she usually wore in a ponytail because she wasn’t sure what the hell else to do with it. Her features were exotic and widely spaced, her blue eyes shaped like almonds. She had lips that always formed a somewhat come-hither pucker, and men really seemed to like it when she drank through straws — or, ideally, ate bananas.
The men acted predictably as she approached. They floundered a little because the gals they catcalled weren’t supposed to respond, and laughed among each other in a way that implied they thought one or all might, hope against hope, get lucky.
“You think I’m pretty, don’t you?”
Kate moved very close to the man who’d pointed at her sweatshirt panties.
He straightened. Even at his full height, he was significantly shorter than Kate. He had to look up at her, and when he did, at least some of his lust began to twitter with nerves.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You want me to touch your dick, don’t you, Sancho?”
He looked at both of his compatriots in turn. They’d all gone serious.
“Oh yeah.”
Kate reached out and gripped the man’s balls then squeezed hard. Her hands were shockingly strong. The man came up onto his tiptoes, but his back was against the riveting rig and he couldn’t fall over. Both of the other men stepped back, turning their hips automatically away.
“I like pussy,” Kate whispered.
Then she let go and walked away, pert ass twitching with her unfeminine walk. She recovered her bag, entered the hub, and left the workmen to scramble over their collapsed and moaning comrade.
Crossing the hub was only slightly less aggravating. Not only did all of Kate’s assets shine no matter how baggy and unflattering her clothing, but she also stood out like a sore thumb because she was as tall as most of the men, even without heels. As a Lunis smuggler, her standout appearance was a mixed bag. On one hand, it was impossible to blend in. But on the other hand, “blending in” wasn’t usually necessary. Kate liked women, but most of the men running the transports and inspection stations — and they were usually men — liked women as well. Kate’s appearance was also almost too anomalous to be truly anomalous, and anyone who stood out as much as she did dragged attention away from herself simply by being so obvious. Most men, and some women, stared at Kate when they didn’t think she was looking, but once she looked them in the eye, they usually flinched because they seemed to intuit that she was always stared at, and that it was probably inconsiderate to do the same.
Even without her visual assets, Kate was great at what she did. This was due partly to her powers of persuasion and rapport and partly to her skill with misdirection. She’d show the inspector to one hatch without the inspectors even realizing they were being led, or draw overt attention to a loose bolt over an equipment panel so that they’d miss the concealed compartment in the shuttle’s belly. She had a knack for stashing smuggled dust in her shuttle’s engine the times the inspector checked the luggage compartments most thoroughly, and she always seemed to hide it in the luggage compartments when the engine was the prime target of scrutiny. Unless the inspectors had been given a tip that she was carrying, they moved quickly through her inspection, eager to punch her ticket and move on. There was always a long line to exit the moon, and Kate always left at the busiest times. In two weeks of constant missions, everything had gone perfectly. Better than anyone else who’d run dust for the boss in the past, as she understood it.
Kate walked through the hub, avoiding stares and pretending she didn’t see them, reminding herself that sometimes, even unwanted attention could be an asset.
She looked down at her wrist, feeling a small but noticeable rise in her heartbeat from the trip. She still had goose bumps. Or maybe it was the cold that was causing her prickled flesh, just as it was prompting her nipples stand at attention. And that, by the way, was just fucking peachy, because now it looked like she had headlights despite the thick double shirt she’d worn for the trip. She really needed to get a spacesuit. Spacesuits were for space poseurs, but at least they didn’t show nippage, and all Kate needed was for every man she walked by to inspect her out of the corner of his eye, looking like he wanted to reach out and give her a honk.
In the middle of the hub, one man’s gaze lingered for too long, so Kate rammed his side without apology. It didn’t work, though. When she glanced back, the man was smiling, as if she’d flirted back at him.
Kate rolled her eyes then decided to distract herself by doing what the men were doing: checking out hot girls. A disproportionate number of people on the moon were extremely wealthy — and the wealthy, thanks to their nano and youth treatments, were usually beautiful. She caught sight of a trio of women crossing the hub, all three in short skirts as if attending a business meeting or a stripper convention. They might have been old enough to be Kate’s mother, but hey — firm boobs were firm boobs. She should know. She could barely stop pawing at her own.
Kate passed them. She smiled. They smiled. And her heartbeat rose again as she sighed, wishing she had time to stop.
At the far end of the hub, she took the tube that led to the external airlock. Once through the passageway, she was pleasantly surprised to see that her transport had already been delivered and converted for ground travel. Maybe she could stay on schedule after all. And maybe, if she hurried through the rest of her trip, she could even find those girls on the way out, with time to spare.
Kate slid into the transport, closed the hatch, and for the third time looked down at her wrist to check the time. But her nanowatch had left with her penis, and despite the watch upgrade’s uselessness, she missed it. She hadn’t been able to see the time on the back of her wrist since before the genetic refurb and Beam ID reset — since before she’d had to go into hiding from Micah Ryan, just two weeks ago, when she’d still been Doc Stahl.
The transport’s canvas chirped. The soft female voice said, “Where would you like to go, Miss Rigby?”
“To find my cock.”
“I’m sorry,” said the c
anvas. “I don’t know that location.”
Kate sighed. “Then take me to Digger Base.”
Chapter 6
April 17, 2055 — District Zero
Dom approached Mr. Booker’s desk, sucked up his courage, then set his tablet in front of the teacher. He wanted to slam it on the desk (he’d seen this sort of thing plenty in vidstreams, done with paper, and it looked so much better), but a tablet was a tablet, and he’d already broken one this year.
Mr. Booker looked up. “Yes?”
Dom met his eyes. Mr. Booker wore glasses but didn’t have bifocals, so he tended to look over their tops, the way he was looking at Dom now. The entire thing was antiquated and clumsy (why didn’t he just get eye surgery or a Crossbrace-enabled implant?), but that was how Mr. Booker was. He wore his hair long, often in a ponytail. He had a wardrobe of brightly colored shirts. He bicycled to work; he used pencils and paper; he wore glasses and peered over their tops. Dom’s father said his biology teacher was a leftover hippie, but Dom always wondered what he was left over from. Mr. Booker wasn’t old enough to pick up the early century or late prior-century fashions Dom had found when poking around on Crossbrace. It was as if he’d pulled his philosophies and look from the air then tried them on and discovered that he liked their fit.
Dom picked up the tablet then set it back down on the desk. Apparently, he hadn’t faux-slammed it pointedly enough.
“You’re giving me your tablet? Thanks, Dom.”
“Why did you fail me?” Dom demanded.
“Because you did poorly on the test.”
“I only missed three. Out of twenty.”
Booker shrugged.
“That’s 85 percent. I got 85 percent of the questions right.”
“Very good. You may pass math.”