by D. Brumbley
Station Nine was a secondary Station, rather than Orion’s home back on Three, but the overall fundamentals of the design were similar. The secondary Stations had six arms instead of eight, but they were still fixed to a central hub that housed the docks and the main storage facilities for the Station, where the rotation caused the lowest artificial gravity. Orion emerged from the access corridor into the main vault of the docks, and smiled at just how familiar the place was. Some things were always the same, no matter where he went in orbit. There would always be someone having an argument over timetables, always a pack of regulatory officials standing off to one side doing their best to look menacing while doing as little as possible. Most importantly, there was always a bar, which was what he needed at the moment.
The open space of the Station’s heart was crisscrossed by support beams and intricately laced guide columns, to make movement in near-zero gravity a little less problematic. He found one such beam and pulled himself along until he got close to the decorated hole in the ceiling/wall/floor that served as the bar. He latched his bag onto his back as he pulled himself up/down/over to the rim of it, and twisted himself around to orient in the same direction as the woman on the other side of the opening. “Good morning, beautiful.” He gave the woman one of his more charming smiles as he looked around, still taking in the unique appearance of the Station and marveling at how different in their similarities all of them could be. “Bit of help for a poor, helpless stranger to this Station?”
The woman with at least three different colors in her hair looked at Orion and laughed, not buying his self-identification for a moment. “You don’t look like the type to be poor or helpless, Stranger.” She went about her task, organizing the bottles in front of her. “I know my badges, and you didn’t get yours without provin’ you definitely ain’t helpless.” She nodded at his shoulder as she moved his direction.
“Well, there are different kinds of helpless.” He insisted with a grin, since he certainly wasn’t ashamed of his rank or his station. He had worked hard to get where he was, and he enjoyed it as thoroughly as the next guy. “I need three things, in no particular order. First, I need a shot of Shine without being judged for drinking in the morning,” he chuckled at that, since he really was fairly nervous about what he was heading into. “Second, I need to know if there’s a travel hostel setup in here where a guy can shower and change, and third, I need to know the best way to get down to…” he looked down at the communicator strapped to his own wrist to make sure he got the right information, “Arm four, deck fourteen, corridor seven-C. And I need all that within the next…forty-two minutes.”
“Just so happens I’m the answer to all your prayers, then.” She smiled a flash of perfectly-white teeth at him, then started extracting a shot of Starshine as he had requested. It had to be drawn from a spout into a tube and then into a small glass that was covered at the top so all the liquid would stay inside. “Here’s one object of your desire.” She floated it out to him and looked down at her communicator. “Name and ID? I’ll set you up with a temporary room easy enough. It’s a daily occurrence that I have to float some drunk into one anyway. I’d much rather be floating you.”
“Beautiful. I won’t need it for long.” He let the shot float in the air between them while he tapped his wrist against a panel to transfer all the information she needed. He took the shot, sliding back the covered lid as he moved it in practiced fashion to toss the liquid straight down his throat. He gave a pleased growl at the way it burned all the way down, and tossed the glass gently toward the collection bin behind the bar, slightly magnetized as it was, to make sure it stayed put. “What about the directions? Far to go?”
“About twenty minutes out from here.” Once she had his information in her system, she punched in the room ID he asked about and sent the directions to the station’s own navigational system. “I’ve loaded up the location for you, so it should guide you when you ask.” She looked him up and down before she came out from her spot so she could lead him to get cleaned up first. “What’s got a pilot like you all up in knots? Don’t tell me you’re here to get matched. I’ve seen a few people wandering around here today for Introductions, but surely a man like you doesn’t need help in that department.”
He let her lead the way, floating just behind her along the guide-bars. “It’s not about needing help so much as it’s about…something different.” He didn’t bother to hide the fact that he was looking her over as they moved through the dock, since she was gorgeous. A great deal shorter than he generally liked, but still gorgeous nonetheless. “Finding somebody for a night or even a few months? No problem. Finding somebody who’s actually gonna go the distance? That’s a trickier picture. I figure the match program’s got a pretty good track record, might as well see what it can do.”
“I don’t know if I trust it. I’ve seen some major fuckups. It’s still a bit of a gamble. But I’ve heard a lot of sob stories, just comes with the job.” They didn’t go far before she opened up a hostel room for him with her own ID. Inside he could see a cot, a shower and a toilet. Definitely a temporary space. “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”
“Good luck? That’s all I get? These are possibly my very last moments of singlehood, here.” He tossed his bag into the tiny compartment past her, but was still grinning as he held onto the doorframe.
The woman tucked a strand of purple hair behind her ear to join the blue and green of the rest of it. It suited her with her piercings and a few visible tattoos, all of them accentuating her natural beauty rather than obscuring it. “You don’t even know my name, big guy.” He was big. So tall. She could only imagine what he was hiding beneath the belt.
“Maybe not, but you know mine.” He was still holding the ID card she had handed back to him, and he flicked it through the air from one hand to the other between long and obviously-nimble fingers. “Seems to me you owe me something, just for that.”
“My name is Lila.” She said as she moved a little bit closer to him. “Is my debt paid, or are you looking for more than that?” Lila chewed on her bottom lip slightly, and she seemed perfectly fine with the idea of giving his lips an introduction as well, if he was looking for it.
“I’m always looking.” He reached out and took a handful of her shirt to draw her in against him. “And actually, Lila, I think I’m the one who owes you, setting me up with a room and directions and all.” He pulled himself slightly into the small compartment she had gotten him, taking her along as far as the doorway before he brushed her lips with a teasing kiss. “Just wish I had longer to stay and settle up.”
Lila wasn’t going to simply accept the light brush of a kiss, so she grabbed onto his shirt as well and kissed him heatedly. He’d started it, after all, and she had a thing for men that seemed like trouble. He definitely seemed like trouble. “You’re dangerous. I hope this woman knows what she’s getting into. I also hope you hate her so you’ll come back for a few more…well, a few more drinks, to start.”
He grinned against her lips and returned her kisses with every bit of the enthusiasm he was glad to have inspired. It was easy. It was something known. Something familiar and practiced, even if she was a stranger. It was also everything he wanted to get away from in coming to be Matched in the first place. “You know, I’ve never actually been to Nine before. I think I’m gonna like it here.” He chuckled and kissed his way back along her jawline, doubling up his grip on her shirt in the process as he spoke into her ear. “If I hate her, I’ll be back, and not just for drinks. That’s a promise.”
Lila drew one of her hands down his body just to get a tiny idea of what she was encouraging in front of her. She liked what she was feeling. “I’m gonna hold you to that.” She groaned softly as she imagined more about this dangerous stranger in front of her. “I can only imagine what you’re hiding under these.”
“Well, that’s what imagination is for.” He pulled her into a last kiss and spun her around so that she was facing the bar they�
�d left a moment ago, then settled one hand firmly on her ass to get her lined up. “Until later, baby. If I don’t see you by tonight, have a shot on me while you put that imagination to work.” He kissed her neck and let her drift for a moment before he shoved her back by her ass toward the bar with a laugh, sending her spinning in mid-air along the pillar they had used to guide on. She worked in near-zero, she would be fine. And it was fun to watch her tumble the whole way, even if it got a whole slew of judgmental stares from the other more-serious occupants of the dock.
Orion couldn’t care less. He had to prepare for a potentially very important meeting.
4
Mercury wasn’t usually prone to fiddling, but she found herself tapping her nails over and over again as she sat in the room where she was waiting to meet her match. She had shown up a half hour early, just because she needed to feel as though she was prepared to meet this mysterious pilot. While she knew everything available about his health, genealogy, education, and hobbies, she knew nothing about the way he looked. She hadn’t included much concerning appearance in her profile requests, because she didn’t really have a preference. As a result, she had no idea what she was getting into, even though she was incredibly impressed by the information she did know.
Mercury had dressed up for the occasion, since she had somehow let her mother talk her into a new dress. It felt odd to wear a dress and heels instead of scrubs for a change, but she had agreed that it looked good on her and complemented both her figure and her coloring. She was pale, not just because she lived in space, but because she was Irish to the core, as reflected by her slight accent and dark red hair. She was taller than most women, but she hadn’t investigated where that genetic change had originated in her family line. Whatever else she had inherited from her mother, it hadn’t been that.
In her anxiety she was sipping at her water constantly and tugging at her long hair because it wasn’t pulled back like usual and it gave her a distraction. The dark green dress fell just above her knees, cut in a deep V in the front to accentuate her ample chest, and was open halfway down her back to expose her silky fair skin. Her mother had also insisted on giving her a gold necklace and stud diamond earrings to wear that had been passed down in her family, citing that it was necessary for good luck. Mercury didn’t believe in such things. Luck was a silly, simple way to explain the unexplained. If it was a good match, it would mean the system had done its job, not that she was lucky.
Orion found the room just ninety seconds before the appointed time, and stopped just outside to give himself another once-over. He wasn’t the only well-dressed person he had seen in the last few minutes, but none of the others he’d seen had had red hair. That was the only thing he knew about his intended match when it came to physical appearance, and he’d been on the lookout for redheads ever since. When his nerves were as calmed as they were likely to get, he let the door take his handprint and stepped into the vestibule.
The outer door closed behind him, leaving him in a space of only a few square meters, with a frosted fiberglass screen between him and potentially the rest of his life. The lights were on in both parts of the chamber, but all he could see from his side was the vague outline of a low table and a couch against the far wall, with someone sitting on it. A hint of green, nothing more.
There was another handprint panel to the side of the frosted glass barrier, and he took in what he hoped was a quiet breath before he reached up to key himself in. No going back now.
“First Lieutenant Orion ibn-Sayyid Al-Jabbar. Fleet pilot second-class, graduate of Station Three Flight and Navigation curriculum with full honors. And very glad to meet you.” The last part wasn’t technically part of the formula for Introduction, but Orion couldn’t adhere too precisely to regulations. It just felt wrong, especially in the context of that meeting. He hoped she could hear the smile in his voice, and that she knew he was sincere when he said he was glad to meet her. Whoever she was.
Mercury got up from the couch and set her water aside as she stepped up to the barrier. She took a deep breath before she put her hand up to the panel and hoped that she sounded confident. “Mercury Finnegan, M.D., Practicing in gynecology and obstetrics, graduate of Station Seven, magna cum laude. Glad to meet you as well.”
It was a rare occurrence when Mercury had to really look up at anyone, but when the frosted glass slid back with a pleasant ding of acceptance, she had to crane her neck a little to look Orion in the eye. He stood well over two meters tall, head, shoulders, and then some taller than Mercury, and was smiling as if he expected the surprise that usually came along with seeing someone his height. His black hair was cut close against his scalp, immediately screaming military, as if the rest of the uniform he was wearing didn’t do the job sufficiently. His skin was a deep shade of warm bronze, the features of his face lean and narrow. The brilliant blue of his eyes made him striking in appearance if his height hadn’t already, crystal clear and sharply observant.
His uniform was the deep blue of the Consortium’s official colors, with his patches of rank and station clearly placed along his upper arms. There were a few small colored markings against one side of his chest that looked like awards of some kind, but Mercury couldn’t identify them, having not had cause to spend much time around members of the military unless they were in the room with their wives for the delivery of their children. The uniform was of stiff fabric, but it was easy to tell even with the uniform that the man in front of her was lean, lithe, and more than a little dangerous. “Good morning.” He said it not so much as a greeting, but as if he was passing judgment on it and it would be a good morning no matter what anybody else had to say about it. “Wow, you look amazing.”
Mercury certainly wasn’t expecting a man that was so much taller than she was, since she honestly didn’t think they really existed. She looked up into his clear blue eyes with her green ones for a full breath before she thought of an appropriate response. She was still stunned by his appearance, how attractive she found him, and the simple fact that they were both actually meeting, to know what she should say. It hadn’t felt real until the moment she was staring up at him. “Thank you. You’re…you look good as well. You’re a lot taller than I ever imagined you would be. I read that you are ‘significantly taller’ than I am, but I honestly didn’t imagine you being quite this tall. It’s…refreshing, actually.”
“Significantly taller. Computers have a talent for understatement.” He chuckled and stepped into the space that the partition had vacated, putting them a lot closer together and making it even more difficult to look all the way up at him. “I’m glad you think it’s refreshing. Your neck might disagree with you after a while. I try to stay sitting down as much as possible so as not to send too many people to a chiropractor.” He reached out tentatively and put a hand along her waist once he was close. He was a very comfortable person, physically speaking, and he had been encouraged by every other matched person he knew not to try and put on any kind of act during the first part of the matching proceedings. They were there to find out who the other person was and to be known for themselves. That wasn’t going to happen if he acted like a reserved person when he was really anything but. “It told me about your red hair and I saw that you were Irish, but I didn’t realize that still came with an accent. I like it.” He had a slight Arabic accent himself, harsher on some consonants and slightly different stresses in his words, but it was by no means thick enough to make him difficult to understand.
Mercury certainly wasn’t expecting him to touch her, but she wasn’t the type of person to initiate physical contact, usually. She didn’t pull away from his touch, but she did motion toward the couch so that maybe he would want to sit down and talk. “Both of my parents are Irish, and I was raised surrounded by people who were once native to Ireland, centuries ago. I left for the beginning of my medical training at fifteen, though, so my parents say that my time spent on Seven has ‘watered down’ my accent.”
“My parents complain a
bout the same thing with mine.” He went with her to the couch, and sat down near her with an arm along the back of the cushions, mostly facing her. “My mother’s family is Egyptian, my father’s is Saudi. My Arabic isn’t what it used to be as a kid, but I haven’t been back to my parents’ station in years except to stop in and say hello when I’m running shuttles through there.”
“Years? Doesn’t that make you sad?” She couldn’t imagine going years without seeing her parents, though now that she was part of the Jannah project, she knew it could be much longer than that before she saw them in person. “I saw my parents just yesterday.” She looked down at her dress. “My mother encouraged me to buy this dress for this meeting, though most of the time I spend my time in scrubs or something much more relaxed than this. It’s just easier that way. Though I did agree with her that it is a beautiful dress. It would just get messy in my normal life. Delivering babies is messy business.”
“Not for the faint-hearted.” He said with another laugh, looking over her dress. “It is a beautiful dress, and you look incredible in it. So I’m glad in this case that you had your mom’s encouragement. I got this…” he looked down at his uniform with the same playful smile on his face. “Oh, about…six years ago? The rank patch came through just last year for First, but the uniform’s been around a while. I’m actually the same way when it comes to dressing up. If I’m not in a jumpsuit flying somewhere, I’m at home in something comfortable or in jeans and a t-shirt hanging around the station. I don’t really feel the need to be more formal than that unless I’m around somebody I’m going to have to salute. Or somebody I’d like to try and impress.” He indicated her with a grinning nod.
