Phobos Station

by D. M. Pruden

  Presently, though, she needs an enema, a reset like the one that wiped out the dinosaurs or the others before that one. Humankind is an evolutionary experiment allowed to run for too long. We will meet our inevitable end by our own hand. Our species is too numerous, and we breed like bacteria, overrunning this beautiful world, consuming her resources only to produce copies of ourselves to continue the process until nothing remains for those who follow.

  My memories of this place are shitty. I left because I had no prospects here. That hasn’t changed. An open wound still festers in my soul and aches when I am here. I’m anxious to finish with matters here and be back in space again.

  Of course, that will be problematic if I leave Requiem.

  Sleeping on the problem did not provide clarity, only an opportunity to consider the reasons why I should not walk away, at least while on Earth.

  So, I defer the issue.

  I will wait to learn what we can from Yashnikov. If he is a dead end, then our leads are gone and nothing more can be done. We will be safe and can go back to our business. Unfortunately, Chambers and Chloe won’t find resolution about Nan, but we’ll all be alive.

  And I won’t be relegated to remaining on Terra. That will be the win for me.

  As our pilot, Mikey, fires the braking thrusters, I gaze out the window as we drop beneath the orbit of the planetary defence platform. The permits Chambers received from Singh appear to be valid, because we are granted permission to land, but I am still wary that this is a ruse and a missile is locked on us.

  Schmaltz deactivates our gravity plating, and the pull of 0.9G releases its hold on my backside. I tighten my restraints and try to corral my conflicting emotions about coming home. My fingers hurt from digging into the arms of my acceleration couch. The vibration of the ship’s heat shield against the wispy upper atmosphere adds to my anxiety as visions of us burning to death flood my imagination.

  I jump as Schmaltz touches my hand.

  “Requiem can take a lot more than this,” he says.

  I force a grateful smile but can’t bring myself to speak. A bump startles me, and I renew my grip on my seat.

  Gradually, my weight returns and the horrific shaking ceases. I relax a little and look over to see Schmaltz watching me.

  “Is this your first return to Terra, Mel?”

  “Does it show?” I wipe the perspiration from my brow. He isn’t sweating; neither do the others.

  “Earth is the most stressful reentry. You’ll become accustomed to the experience in time.”

  I nod and turn to look out the window. Below the billowy white clouds under us, glimpses of the tan surface flash by. Before long, we drop beneath cloud level and are on our approach to Cape Town Station.

  Being Terra’s largest civilian spaceport, the airspace is abuzz with small ships and passenger cars. The urban sprawl of the city extends to the horizon, vanishing into a dun haze. I can’t see a patch of anything green.

  Requiem settles onto its assigned landing platform in a cloud of dust and sand that momentarily obscures my view. By the time the air clears, we are inside the hangar.

  I unbuckle my restraints, and again, Schmaltz’s hand grasps mine.

  “Take your time standing. Even though we’ve been running at 0.9 Earth Gee, artificial gravity is different from the real thing. Give yourself a chance to adjust before you take a step.”

  I nod my thanks and rise to my feet. The cabin spins around me, and I quickly sit again before I can fall over.

  Schmaltz just stands over me and grins. “Take a minute, Doc.” He departs with Chloe, who is as unaffected as the others.

  Mikey and our fearless captain busy themselves with piloting stuff and aren’t aware that I’m watching them.

  Before I can work up the courage to attempt standing again, Chambers rises and comes to sit next to me. I brace myself for a smartass remark, but he ignores my condition as if he was expecting it to happen.

  “Once you think you’re ready, I would like you to come with me. Singh provided me a name at the Star Liner Corporation office.”

  “Uh, sure,” I say, still fighting the last of my vertigo. “What about Chloe?”

  He shakes his head. “We agreed she will stay on the ship. Cabot’s agents are probably in the port, and even though he’d be nuts to nab her from us, we shouldn’t tempt him, agreement between him and his daughter or not.”

  “She told you about that?”

  He nods but says nothing. I worry that he is being willfully blind to the danger she is to us. With Mikey still on the deck, I can say no more.

  “When do you want to leave?” I ask.

  “In thirty minutes; loading Singh’s cargo won’t take long, and I don’t want to lose our launch window in a few hours.”

  Chambers makes no attempt to hide his frustration as we exit the offices of the Star Liner Corporation.

  “It was worth the try, at least,” I say, trying to conceal the relief in my voice.

  “I don’t believe him. Yashnikov is hiding something. He’s a clerk. I offered him a half-year’s wages, and he turned me down? Who does that?”

  “That was a little suspicious, I grant you.”

  “Fucking right! Any normal person would accept the money in a heartbeat and pass us useless information.”

  “Do you think we met the one man on the planet with integrity?”

  He glares at me. “Yeah, right; that’s what happened, Mel.”

  “Okay, no need for sarcasm. Someone’s obviously paying for his silence.”

  “Or he is afraid of Cabot killing him.”

  Chambers clamps his lips shut as two soldiers in military police uniforms approach. They give us the once-over but continue walking.

  When they are out of earshot, I whisper, “What can we do, Roy? Threaten his life? This is a dead end.”

  “We are so close, Mel. I can almost touch it.”

  I grab his hand and squeeze. “I wish we had more. Let’s return to the ship and go over our options. If Singh had this information, perhaps we can get more out of him. We just need to figure out what questions to ask.”

  He sighs. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

  We walk a few blocks in silence. I should be wracked with guilt for being glad at how the visit with Yashnikov went, but I’m not. Walking away from this lead is a break; we keep out of Cabot’s sights, and he can indulge his daughter’s merry chase without our interference. I can remain aboard Requiem. I take this development as a win.

  My CI pings with a flag from an unfamiliar local ID. Very few people, on or off Terra, would contact me; nobody in Cape Town. I download the message and stop in my tracks.

  “What’s wrong?” Chambers asks.

  “Um, nothing.” I spot a coffee shop. “I just remembered my aunt’s birthday. I need to call her.” I point at the place.

  “You do that from the ship?”

  “Ah, no. She’s old-fashioned, and she’ll kill me if she learns I was here and didn’t say hello.”

  He nods briskly. “Fine, but don’t take long. Our launch window is in three hours.”

  “I’ll return with bells on.” I offer him a smile.

  He shakes his head and walks on.

  After he’s gone, I reopen and examine the message more carefully.

  I go in the coffee shop and pause in the doorway to survey the sparse crowd sitting at tables.

  A man sits in the back, alone. Seeing me, he grins and waves.

  Frowning, I walk to his table, him watching me the entire time, a friendly smile on his mug. I sit in the chair across from him and stare into his blue eyes.

  “Okay,” I say, “you got my attention. Who the fuck are you?”

  Chapter Seven

  His clean-shaven face is covered with pockmarks from a childhood disease, and he is pale, as if he’s never felt the warmth of the sun. Of slight build, his bone structure is gracile, almost delicate, and he is frighteningly thin; I probably outweigh him. The man is obviously not a native Te
rran, something confirmed when he extends his hand. Beneath his loose-fitting jacket, I just make out the sleeve of an augmentation suit—a prosthetic device worn to support off-worlders’ weak muscles under the strain of Earth’s gravity. They are not something common, given the cost, and usually only wealthy merchants from Mars or the belt use them.

  “Doctor Destin, you may call me Mister Umbra.”

  Based on his accent, I decide he is a Martian, and I shake his hand. “Not too subtle for a fake name.”

  He shrugs. “Names are unimportant, really. Merely a formality for the purpose of this encounter.”

  “Oh, we’re having one of those. I would’ve put on deodorant had I known.”

  His smile is patronizing. “I was informed of your sense of humour.”

  “By whom? How did you discover my CI code?”

  “Shall we dispense with the questions I won’t answer and proceed to the one you really want to ask me?”

  “You mean, ‘What do you want?’”

  “Yes, that would be the one.” He shifts awkwardly in his seat, the augmentation suit obviously not providing complete relief of his discomfort. Once resettled, he picks up his cup of coffee and takes a sip.

  “You didn’t offer me one,” I say.

  He places the mug down. “This won’t take much time. You must return to your ship soon.”

  “So, what do you want from me?”

  “To hire you, obviously.”

  I sit back in my chair. “Okay, I’ll play. What do you want me to do?”

  “A cargo is being loaded aboard Requiem bound for Phobos. I wish to engage your services to discover who the recipient is.”

  “What are we transporting?”

  “Unimportant, as far as this conversation is concerned.”

  “Hmm, this all sounds kind of shady.”

  “My request shouldn’t be a problem, given your current entrepreneurial activities. I’m prepared to pay you handsomely.”

  I smile. “I’m sure you are.” I stand. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

  “Don’t you want to hear the contract fee?”

  I sit. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s this worth to you?”

  “Four hundred thousand credits.”

  I whistle. “You’re not fucking around, Umbra.”

  He winces, uncomfortable with my profanity, like any proper Martian. “Half of the amount will be deposited to your account on agreement, with the balance payable on delivery of the information.”

  “You’re that trusting?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You trust that I won’t just be happy to take the advance and fuck you over?” I like watching his reaction to my potty mouth.

  “I’m taking a risk, but my research about you suggests that is not likely to happen.”

  “Hmm, all the same, I’m going to pass on this.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “Because I don’t like the smell of this. Neither do I like the idea of being in the pocket of a Martian Secret Service agent.”

  He doesn’t bat an eyelid. “What if I were to offer you something you can’t find anywhere else?”

  “Like what?”

  Like a drama queen, he pauses before answering. “I can give you information about Nancy Chambers.”

  My smug expression melts from my face, leaving me agape as I stare at him. After a couple of breaths, I regain some composure. “Bullshit.”

  “I can assure you I am telling the truth.”

  “Forget about how you imagined I might be interested in locating her—how do you know where she is?”

  His patronizing smile broadens. “My informants are deeply embedded within the Jovian Collective, as well as among Carson Willis’s allies.”

  This guy knows far too much about me. Something tells me to forget the temptation and hurry back to Requiem, but the son of a bitch captures my interest.

  “What is your proof?” I say.

  He reaches in his pocket and slides a small coin-like object across the table to me. Curiosity now fully engaged; I pick it up to examine. A stylized logo of a sun with a single planet in orbit is embossed on one side.

  “Return to Tibor Yashnikov and show him this,” he says. “Then come back here and I will tell you more.”

  Warily, I slip the disk in my jacket and stand. “Why are you so confident I’ll come back?”

  He sips his coffee with closed eyes, savouring the experience. I guess they don’t get the genuine thing on Mars. He sets the cup down and smiles at me. “I’ll be here for the next hour, Doctor.”

  I laugh. “Suit yourself, Umbra. Just take my advice, though: don’t drink too much of that shit while you wait. It isn’t real coffee, not for the price they are charging. With your virgin metabolism, you’ll be running with the trots for a week.”

  His smile wavers as I turn to leave, giving me some satisfaction.

  I return to the coffee shop exactly fifty minutes later to find Umbra seated at the same table. I toss the disk to him and take my seat.

  “Did he tell you anything interesting, Doctor?”

  “The son of a bitch spilled his guts to me like I was his confessor at his deathbed. Why?”

  “I told you, my informants are well-placed.”

  “Well, he may be useful to you, but he told me fuck-all that I hadn’t already guessed, and what was new is impossible to verify.”

  “Hence the value of what I offer.”

  I lean across the table. “You’re not jerking me around? You know where Nancy Chambers is?”

  “I possess information about what happened to her after she and Miss Cabot were separated. I’m prepared to share that with you as part of our deal.”

  “That news is several months old. Her trail will be cold by now.”

  “But for you it is warmer than an hour ago.” He leans forward to meet my gaze and lowers his voice. “Do not underestimate my resources, Doctor. I can help you find her, something you and your companions can’t easily accomplish, especially before Miss Cabot’s arrangement with her father expires.”

  “Okay, this is creepy. How did you discover that?”

  The patronizing smile returns. “Can we come to an agreement, Doctor?”

  The answer dances on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to speak.

  Set aside that he is a Martian agent using a fake name; the fact that he is so familiar with our situation sets alarms off in the back of my head.

  Our digging into the disappearance of Nancy Chambers is only scraping the surface of something much bigger and scarier—I just don’t understand how much so.

  I know exactly what will happen if I jump at this guy’s offer. I’ll be stepping into something I may not be able to extricate myself from.

  I should tell him where to stick his deal. I learned a lot from Tibor’s sudden eagerness to talk. Cabot is responsible for sending the pirates after his daughter and by induction is working against her efforts to be reunited with her lover, Nancy.

  But none of that gets us any closer to tracking her down. There might be a chance Umbra is being truthful; that possibility isn’t something to walk away from cavalierly.

  I don’t doubt how this arrangement will work. He intends to pique my interest in the reward. Then, like any drug pusher, he’ll tease me with more information, but at a price.

  Umbra, for his own reasons, wants me working for him; part of his larger network, just like Tibor Yashnikov. The last thing I want is to become beholden to him.

  Despite my best efforts, I’m an idiot who’s painted myself into a goddamned corner.

  Fuck!

  A few short hours ago I was contemplating walking away from the whole thing, restarting my life yet again. Now here I am, debating a deal with the devil to help somebody else. What the hell is the matter with me?

  I stall. “If you want me to work for you, why all this drama? Why not simply make your offer to me?”

  “You like things plain and simple, Doctor?”


  “I like to be aware of what I’m stepping into. I don’t want to follow a tempting trail of breadcrumbs that you lay out, only to find myself ensnared in something I can’t escape. I won’t become your slave; I did that once, and I will never let that happen again.”

  I rub my arm where a gang tattoo once branded me as property. Dropping my hand to the table, I stare at him. He studies me with his lavender eyes. His pupils are unusually dilated for the light levels in the room. If he were a native Terran, I’d suspect he was on something. But he’s a Martian, and his eyes are adapted to a planet much farther from the Sun. If he were to step outside without sunglasses, even on an overcast day, he’d be blinded.

  “Very well, Doctor; if you do as I ask and report to me who receives the cargo Requiem is taking to Phobos, I will pay you the sum of money we discussed. As a sign of faith, I will now tell you what happened to Nancy Chambers. If what I tell you is useful to you and your comrades, we can enter into a new agreement where I pass on additional intelligence about her. We can continue in this piecemeal manner until you determine you no longer wish what I offer. Strictly quid pro quo; is this acceptable to you?”

  My eyelids narrow. “Nothing dangerous? You just want information from me?”

  “You will not be asked to do anything you do not want to do.”

  “And I can end this arrangement at any time?”

  “The decision to continue will always be yours.”

  On the surface, nothing appears nefarious. I can think of no downside to accepting what he offers.

  Why, then, do I hesitate?

  If I accept Umbra’s offer, I tie myself to this quest, at least in the short term. The danger is that I can be sucked in deeper with every new piece of the puzzle.

  As of now, I am a free agent, only responsible to me. If I walk away from this deal and let Requiem depart without me, I retain my hard-earned independence.