by M. D. Cooper
Justin groaned. “I never should have let you talk me into this.”
“You were looking for an excuse to get out—I could feel it. A kindred spirit.”
“We’re so getting expelled.”
“No we’re not. Come on.” Rachel slinked toward the far side of the waste bin and peeked inside.
It was precisely as unpleasant as she would have expected.
“No. No way I’m getting in there!” Justin hissed.
“Calm down! We’re not going in like this,” Rachel whispered back. She moved away from the bin and toward a supply closest, ten meters down the hall.
She cracked the door open, and they shimmied inside.
“What are we doing in here?” Justin asked.
“Waiting and getting geared up.”
The closet was barely large enough for Rachel to spin around without bumping into Justin, but she managed to reach over his head to grab two personal hazsuits.
“No… That’s not nearly enough for what we’ll face in that dumpster,” Justin objected.
“They’re completely sealed. It will be fine! We’ll only be inside for twenty minutes, tops.”
“I—”
“Shh, stop worrying.” Rachel patted him on the shoulder.
“What’s the ‘waiting’ bit you mentioned?”
“For dinner to finish. We’ll slip inside the dumpster after the final load gets added, then it will get transported out, and we’ll jump clear once it’s on the far side of the security line.”
Justin crossed his arms. “If we don’t get caught, we’ll die of suffocation.”
“Then don’t come.”
“Rachel, you should realize by now that I’m coming along no matter how much I complain about the means.”
She grinned up at him in the dim light. “I figured as much.” She paused. “I am glad you’re coming.”
“Just to have someone along, or me specifically?”
I didn’t intend for this to be a date… She took a step back, but there was nowhere to go in the closet. “I don’t have any expectations.”
“Good, because I’m just coming along to have fun.”
“All right, because I already had you in the ‘DPBT’ category in my head.”
Justin gave her a blank stare.
“ ‘Dating Potential, Bad Timing’,” she supplied.
“Did you make that up?”
“Seemed worthy of an abbreviation.” She held up her hand for silence when she heard voices passing in the hall.
Quiet returned.
“Any other interesting shorthand I should know about?” Justin asked.
“One that will come into play tonight is ‘SUHF’—Shut Up and Have Fun.”
Justin chuckled. “I think I can get behind that one.”
They waited for another twenty minutes while dinnertime came and went. By the end, Rachel was antsy and hungry. But the promise of a good drink and bar food made the wait worthwhile.
With the time for departure drawing near, Rachel and Justin helped each other into the hazsuits and checked the seals. The filters would afford them two hours of breathing air without exterior tanks, which would be more than enough for their purposes.
Sounds of the waste bin being filled carried into the supply closet, and when the corridor seemed clear, Rachel peeked out.
“Come on! We need to get in before it gets taken away.” She waddled down the hall as quickly as she could in the awkward hazsuit and threw back the bin’s lid.
To her relief, the top level of leftover food was a bunch of salad, which would at least make for a more pleasant base layer for their travel than, say, chili.
Rachel hauled herself over the lip of the bin and dropped down inside.
Justin hesitated, but quickly followed her when they heard a door open somewhere down the hall. They pulled the lid gently closed just as footsteps rounded the corner.
Movement jarred the dumpster, and Rachel braced her hands against the sides in the complete darkness of the sealed container. She prayed to the stars it would take them on the course she’d been told.
For fifteen minutes, Rachel tried to track the movement as the bin was transported on a hover platform. The right and left turns and lift rides were meaningless to her without a map of the back corridors, but she did detect the telltale beep of a bioscanner. Soon thereafter, the dumpster stopped, and there was only silence.
Rachel waited a minute to be sure, then cracked open the lid, thankful to find it hadn’t been locked—a possibility that had not occurred to her until after they got inside.
The room was dim, but she could make out rows of other bins awaiting processing, and she could hear machinery whirring in the distance.
“Okay, I think it’s clear,” she told Justin while opening the lid the rest of the way. She swung her legs over the edge and dropped to the deck.
When Justin was next to her, she closed the bin’s lid and began stripping off the hazsuit.
“What do we do with these?” Justin waved his own garment.
“Turn it inside out and bring it with us. We’ll find somewhere secure to dump it.”
He nodded. “Now, this is probably a terrible time to bring it up, but how are we getting back into the academy after we’re done partying for the night?”
She smiled at him in the dark. “Oh, that part is easy. They only check clearance to leave—all we have to do is walk in the front door. Our auths and uniforms will show that’s precisely where we’re supposed to be.”
“There won’t be a note that we didn’t have permission to leave?”
“Why would there be? It’s assumed we never left.”
Justin considered the statement, then waved his hand dismissively. “I guess we’ll figure it out when we get there.”
They crept through the grid of bins toward a light mounted on the wall that seemed to indicate an exit. As they approached, Rachel slowed her pace and listened for any voices.
Four meters from their destination, the doors flew open.
Rachel and Justin dove behind the nearest bin, as a new container zoomed in on its automated hover platform and followed a programmed path to an open spot in the grid.
“Let’s go,” Rachel mouthed, and darted through the open door.
The hallway beyond had the unadorned look of a maintenance corridor. There were no signs of humans or AIs nearby, so Rachel and Justin jogged along the only available path.
The first junction they encountered had signage pointing toward the promenade in the central commercial district, which provided a reference point for their travels. Now assured they were well outside the academy’s security perimeter, they connected to the general Link and consulted the map to find a route to the nearest social area of the station.
“Perfect!” Rachel’s eyes gleamed. “I’ve heard great things about this bar. They have a special additive in the drinks that slows down your nano so you can actually get a buzz.”
“Good, because I really need a drink after that ride.”
Rachel nodded. “I mean, it could have been worse, but I can’t say I’d be eager to do it again. I’ll figure out a different way to sneak out next time.”
“Already planning a next time? We haven’t even done anything yet.”
She took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “But can’t you feel the freedom?”
“More drinking, less talking.” Justin pointed in the direction of the bar.
“No argument here.”
At the end of the corridor, they balled up the hazsuits and then stripped off their academy jumpsuits. Rachel produced the carrying bag she’d brought to hold their clothes, and stuffed the jumpsuits and her boots inside. Now looking the part of a club-goer, she slung the bag over her shoulder and inspected her companion. His gray slacks and light blue button-down shirt were too understated for her taste, but the shirt’s tight cut showed off his physique enough to get attention, if that was his aim.
“You clean up well,” Justin
commented.
“Not bad for taking a dumpster here, rather than a luxury groundcar, eh?” She sauntered toward the exit.
They dumped the hazsuits in a waste bin, then merged into the pedestrian traffic in the transit concourse running through that section of the massive station.
The bar was a kilometer from their current location, but Rachel didn’t mind the walk. Her past month at the academy was the longest she’d ever been without the stimulation of a bustling station. She soaked in the atmosphere as passersby went about their lives—noting everything from families shopping together, to the creative mods of some of the individuals roaming the station.
Upon reaching the bar, Rachel assessed the color scheme of the interior and then adjusted her dress to a vibrant blue to play off the orange of the décor.
Justin rolled his eyes when he realized what she was doing, and then strode into the club.
Rachel smiled at the bouncer and followed Justin inside.
The rhythmic thump of the music pulsed in her chest, energizing her in a way she hadn’t felt since enrolling in the ISF academy.
“I’ve missed this!” she shouted to Justin over the music.
“What?”
Justin took in the room.
“I want a drink!” Rachel spotted the bar and weaved through the crowd to the polished stainless-steel counter, with Justin at her heels.
The bartender had a natural, youthful look to her, likely never having undergone a rejuv. Rachel imagined that Victoria was one of the few systems where it was common to come across so many young people like herself, and it created a unique dynamic within the population where some adhered to ageist notions about who made for appropriate social companions. If the centurions thought she was too immature to have a serious conversation with, then so be it. Young people were more fun, anyway.
Rachel flashed a radiant smile at the bartender. “Hey!” she shouted over the crowd. “What’s good here?”
“I can make anything you want,” the bartender smiled back. “What are you in the mood for?”
“How about a ‘special’ strawberry daiquiri?”
“Coming right up.” The bartender spun to grab a glass off the back shelf and began the drink preparations.
“That is such a girly drink,” Justin chuckled.
“Yeah, and delicious! Plus, the red won’t turn my tongue a funny color like that crazy blue or green shit.” She eyed a group of four women at a nearby table, each drinking bizarre concoctions from twisty glasses. The women cast an appraising glance in their direction, as well.
“I dunno… green teeth can be sexy,” Justin jested.
“I think I just found some new criteria to add to that DPBT list of mine…”
“Don’t knock it ’til you try it.”
Rachel rested her forearms on the bar top. “If you say so.”
The bartender returned in short order with the daiquiri and placed it in front of Rachel. “And for you?” she asked Justin.
“ ‘Special’ double shot of whiskey, neat.”
Rachel looked at him from under raised eyebrows as she sipped her daiquiri through the straw. “Getting right to business.”
“May as well loosen up fast,” he replied.
“We do have training in the morning.”
“I was the one who thought this was a bad idea, remember? Our nano will pick up the slack later, don’t worry.”
The bartender set down his drink, and Justin downed half the amber liquid in one gulp, wincing as it hit the back of his throat. “Okay, so not the highest grade.”
“It’ll get the job done, I’m sure. Come on.” Rachel authorized the auto-debit payment for the drink from her account while looking for a place to sit. She spotted an empty four-seater booth and set a direct course for it.
When they were just two meters from the booth, a man slid into the empty curved seat.
Damn! Rachel frowned and began searching for another option.
The man noticed her consternation. “Did you want to sit here?” he shouted, pointing at the unoccupied portion of the booth.
Rachel took another step forward. “Do you mind?”
Then the man noticed Justin following behind her, and his face dropped. “Of course not, have a seat.” The disappointment was evident in his voice, but at least he was polite enough not to rescind the offer.
“I’m Rachel,” she introduced herself as she took a seat, extending her right hand while holding her drink in the other. She dropped the bag containing their clothes in the center of the booth.
“Tom.” He shook her hand.
“And this is Justin.” Rachel pointed her thumb over her shoulder at her friend as he slid in next to her.
“Thanks for the seat,” Justin said to Tom.
“No problem. So, what brings you here tonight?”
“Just needed to get out,” Rachel said.
“What do you do?” Tom asked.
“We’re in the academy,” Justin replied.
Gah, idiot! Rachel smiled sweetly, but she mentally slapped Justin.
She sighed in her mind.
Tom tilted his head with interest. “You mean the ISF academy? What are you studying?”
Rachel sipped her daiquiri. “Officers training.”
“Is that so?” Tom took a gulp of beer. “They let you come out and socialize?”
“Just celebrating for one night,” Rachel hastily replied before Justin could say anything more incriminating.
“That’s good.” Tom leaned back in the booth and spread his arms to either side along the top of the padded back. “I remember flight training being brutal. It’s important to get time to unwind.”
Rachel tensed. “Are you in the ISF?”
“Oh, no! I’m a civilian pilot,” Tom said. “I made it onto the colony roster as a machinist, though. Long story. I work on the transport ships nowadays, while we’re stuck here.”
Rachel bristled at the ‘stuck’ terminology in relation to the only real home she’d ever known. “It could be a lot worse.”
Tom nodded. “You’re right. We could be drifting through the black for all eternity, just waiting to run out of fuel.”
Justin shifted in the booth next to her. “That’s one way to look at things.”
“Well, I’m guessing you were both kids when we reached Victoria? I was in stasis, but from what I understand, we had a rough start to our time here.”
“You’re right,” Rachel acknowledged. “We’ve studied the battle with the Sirians at the academy—it’s important for us to be thankful for what we have.”
“It is.” Tom looked into his drink. “Sorry, I know you’re out here to celebrate. Back to lighter topics! Have you started flight training yet?”
Rachel groaned. “I wish! We’re still pretty early in.”
“They make you wait for the good stuff.” Tom drained his glass. “I’ll grab the next round. You want the same?” he asked.
Rachel’s glass was still half-filled. “How about a double vodka cranberry?” she requested. That ought to keep her nano busy.
Justin held up his empty glass to indicate a repeat of his previous order.
Tom smiled. “You’ve got it.” He slid from the booth and ambled to the bar.
“He seems nice.” Rachel sucked down the remainder of her daiquiri as quickly as she could without getting a brain freeze.
“He wants to see what’s under that skimpy dress of yours—not that you’ve left a lot to the imagination.” Justin twirled his empty glass.
“This dress is modest compared to what half the people in here have on!” Rachel examined her
self relative to the men and women around her, and felt quite vindicated.
One particularly telling outfit involved a five-centimeter band across the woman’s breasts, shorts that didn’t even cover half her buttocks, and a translucent layer that looped under her arms around her lower back and met at the front of a collar she wore around her neck.
Justin crossed his arms. “Just because others dress that way doesn’t mean you have to.”
Rachel patted his thigh. “Aww, it’s cute of you to be all protective of me.”
He shook his head when he noticed Tom returning with the fresh drinks. “Forget it.”
“Thanks!” Rachel said as she took the new drink from Tom. She’d been through enough dating in secondary school to know where Justin was about to go with his statements, and she was thankful for a diversion.
While she liked him well enough, the ‘Bad Timing’ part of her DPBT classification was too prohibitive a barrier—especially when factoring in the part about him being a classmate and future colleague. Not everyone could make a relationship work like Lieutenant Governor Richards and Commandant Evans.
“Now, where were we?” Tom returned to his seat. “Oh, right! I was asking about flight training.”
“Yes, we’re still a long way out from that,” Rachel replied. “We’ll go through basic combat flight training as part of the officers program, though. They want us to have an appreciation for what pilots go through when we send them into battle.”
Tom whistled. “Those g forces are nuts. I’m happy to stick with my cargo haulers. They can be plenty zippy for my needs.”
Rachel sighed. “I’m envious. I know we have everything we could ever want in here, but there’s something about being out there with an unobstructed view of the universe. It’s beautiful.”
“You know,” Tom said slowly, “I could take you out, if you like. I have my own ship.”
“No?” Tom frowned. “I understand. Your training has to come first.”