by Zen DiPietro
She sent him a look of amused disdain. “Don’t make me send you to the brig.”
He grinned and shifted his weight. It was subtle, but she recognized it as the balance of someone who was ready to fight. A private, unspoken joke between the two of them.
Still grinning, he said, “You can try.”
She laughed.
Lieutenant Lee watched them with curiosity and amusement. “You two must know each other pretty well already.”
“We’ve worked together,” Minho said in a tone that sounded like an agreement, but without providing any specifics. “We also had the whole trip here, so poor Arashi here has had to suffer a lot of my company.”
Fallon admired his lowkey artfulness at appearing to be open while actually revealing nothing. She made a mental note for her future use. In fact, she’d contribute right then by changing the subject.
She stood. “It’s a fine station. Thank you for showing us around. How do you organize mealtimes here?”
Lieutenant Lee retrieved her comport from her belt and checked the chronometer. “Good timing. Since there are so few of us here now, we’ve set a specific hour for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We show up if we aren’t too busy, and it gives us a chance to talk to others in person rather than just on the voicecom. It’ll be nice to have some new voices adding to the conversation.”
She gestured for them to follow her. “Remember that place I pointed out on the boardwalk? We’ve set it up as a temporary galley until some restaurant owner moves in. It’s mostly just food in packets that we put into the heat-ex, but there are some basic cooking ingredients, too. We also have a fledgling hydroponics bay that’s just starting to offer some mushrooms, peppers, and tomatoes on a very limited basis.”
She paused to give them a hopeful look. “Do either of you cook?”
Fallon shook her head, but Minho nodded. “Yeah, I like it.”
Lee looked delighted. “Oh, fantastic! Maybe you can treat us to a meal or two. Packets get boring after a while.”
Minho nodded good-naturedly. “Maybe. We’ll have to see what the pantry looks like.”
Forty minutes later, Fallon, Lee, and Minho—along with a half dozen other people—dug into a stir-fried vegetable and noodle dish.
“This is way better than the pre-made noodles,” Lee said. “What did you do?”
Minho shrugged off the praise. “I just sautéed some mushrooms and zucchini, and added black bean paste and seasonings. It’s nothing, really.”
“They should change the noodle packet to taste like this,” said a mechanical engineer they’d just met. He was the youngest of the group and seemed to take the frequent teasing of his colleagues with good humor.
“Thanks, Ensign Arrem.” Minho took another bite. “But then how would I impress my co-workers with relatively little effort or skill?”
They all chuckled as they continued to eat. Fallon admired Minho’s easy way of talking to people. She was sure he was already well-liked. She had always had a much harder time meeting and getting to know people.
Lieutenant Lee pushed her empty tray aside. “We’re all on a first-name basis here, since it doesn’t make sense to stand on formality with so few of us here. Of course, we’ll use your titles if you prefer it, but feel free to call us all by our first names.”
Minho swiped at the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “Fine by me. I’m not much for formality, myself. Of course, Lieutenant Arashi here is a terrible stickler, and a general killjoy, so she’ll probably ruin it for everyone.”
All eyes turned to Fallon. She stared at Minho in surprise, but quickly realized that he wanted her to make more of an effort with making conversation.
She laughed lightly. “He’s joking. He does that. He thinks he’s funny.” She made a humorous face, squinting one eye. “Mostly, we just keep letting him think it.”
Chuckles went around the room and she could see everyone relaxing.
“Feel free to call me Emiko, of course,” she added.
Lieutenant Lee—no, her first name was Katheryn—quickly said, “When we have visitors, we revert to standard protocol. It’s just simpler to keep it casual while we’re getting the station ready.”
“How often do you get visitors?” Fallon asked.
Jacen Arrem said, “Depends. Sometimes it’s weeks between, and sometimes we have back-to-back inspections. We even had a ship that needed an emergency docking for repairs.”
“They were lucky you were equipped enough for that,” Minho noted.
Jacen nodded. “Yeah. There’s a reason this station was built here. It’s a long way to the next outpost. If not for Asimov Station, they’d have had to try to make it to Bennaris.”
“I don’t think they would have,” a mechanical contractor named Jess Barkin said. She wasn’t an officer, but she must have had a lot of experience because her job was to oversee much of the physical work being done. At forty-six, she was the oldest person on the skeleton crew. “They’d have started experiencing cascade failures within forty-eight hours if we hadn’t been here.”
“I bet they were mighty grateful,” Minho said.
Jacen shrugged. “They were Rescan traders, so mostly they were concerned about making it to their trade on time, and how much we’d charge them for our assistance.”
Minho wiped his mouth with a napkin, then dropped it on his empty tray and sat back. “You never know with visitors. They could be great, they could be awful. Best case scenario in either case is that they’re up front and you figure out what you’re dealing with. Hopefully you all have decided that Emiko and I will be fairly tolerable to have around.”
Chuckles and nods indicated that the consensus approved of the newcomers.
Jess gathered her cup, tray, and chopsticks and stood. “Thanks for the dinner. I should get back to work. The sooner we get this bucket put together, the sooner I can get home.” She paused. “No offense to those of you who plan to stay long-term.”
Katheryn Lee, along with a tech in his twenties who had remained fairly silent throughout the meal, both waved her off.
Fallon was glad to see that the crew didn’t seem inclined toward formality or high-maintenance social etiquette. It would be a lot tougher to work here if people were quick to take offense.
But then, they had probably been chosen for this assignment because they were well-suited to it, both in terms of skill and temperament.
Fallon stood and hid her amusement when Katheryn started to rise and bow to her as a senior officer, then realized what she was doing and pretended she was adjusting the strap on her shoe.
That Katheryn was a go-getter, for sure, and might very well climb the chain of command quickly.
Minho reached for Fallon’s tray and cup, stacked them with his, and efficiently washed them up. She suspected he was making a point of not expecting any special treatment as the senior officer. When he was done, he said, “I think I’ll retire for the night. Then Emiko and I will work the day shift tomorrow. Let us know if you need anything or just want to hang out.”
Fallon nodded. “I’m ready to turn in, too. It was great to meet you all. Our paths might not cross a lot, since we’ll be working on the security system, but I’ll definitely meet up for meals whenever I can. Or if anyone plays games in the evening, I like cards and Go. Or I’m always open to learning something new.”
She got all-around smiles for that offer, so she knew she’d made a good choice.
“Sleep well,” Katheryn called.
“Don’t let the spacebugs bite,” Jacen said, grinning. Apparently, he liked to make fun of the fact that he was the youngest.
Emiko smiled at him, and she thought she detected a hint of pink on his cheeks.
Uh oh. She’d have to be careful to discourage a crush, if he turned out to be inclined toward one. She didn’t need that kind of complication in her life. She had plenty to keep her busy as it was.
“Oh, this is sweet.” Fallon couldn’t help but feel excited about the gr
oundwork that had been laid for the security features of Asimov Station. Seeing how neatly the new systems had been designed was a treat.
Maybe, if she hadn’t decided to be a Blackout officer, she might have made a good security officer, after all.
Minho grinned at her. “You like that?”
“Bleeding edge technology that I can use to protect this station, as well as study for the purpose of infiltrating in the future? Oh yeah. I like it.” She eyed the voicecom panel with greedy eagerness.
Minho laughed. “I guess the higher-ups know what they’re doing when they pick people for particular things.”
She made a slashing gesture at him. “Pontificate later. Right now, let’s dig into this.”
Two hours later, she’d memorized the classified plans, and she and Minho had gotten right to work.
“Ever been inside a service conduit?” Minho asked as they grabbed components and toolkits and headed to their first location.
“Nope,” Fallon said.
“Well, you’re a pilot, so you can’t be claustrophobic, but just remember not to move too quickly or else you’ll bang your elbows, knees, or head. Maybe even all of the above.”
She laughed. “Seriously?”
“You’d be surprised.”
After three hours inside the cramped confines of service conduits, Fallon understood what Minho had meant about the restrictive confines.
“Blood and bone,” she muttered to herself wryly as she adjusted her hips and shoulders into an odd posture so she could force open an access panel.
It wasn’t just the tight space, though, that made her consider every movement. She didn’t mind that. The sound was what bothered her. Something about being in such a small, confined area made sounds louder and more abrupt. Even the sound of her sliding along on her back and elbows sounded oddly loud. But somehow, when Minho spoke from only yards away, he sounded like he was on the other end of a tunnel.
As a result, she found she preferred not to talk while working.
She developed a routine for installing the security sensors. Install, connect, activate, test. Over and over.
When they finished with that particular area of the station and exited the conduit, she slid into the corridor with a sense of relief. Her knees definitely felt the effects of crawling through the tunnels, and so did her shoulders.
“Ready to quit?” Minho shifted his toolkit to his other hand to elbow her playfully.
She smiled. “Hardly. If I can take a Hawk punch to the chest, I can deal with some conduit work.”
He hitched his head toward the south. “Let’s put the tools away, then I’ll treat you to dinner.”
“Treat, huh?” She fell into step beside him. “Going to order delivery?”
They laughed.
“Sure,” he said. “How about some Bennite stew, fresh from Bennaris? Everything has a price. I bet it could be done.”
She laughed, imagining how much the bill would be to have food delivered a three-day flight away. “How about you show me some of your packet doctoring tricks, instead?”
“Wow, you’re a cheap date. I like that.” He winked at her.
She rolled her eyes, grinning.
“I squirreled away some good stuff in my quarters this morning. The kitchenette is pretty nice for cooking, too. I had a feeling we’d miss the regular dinner hour, so we’re all set.”
“I like that you planned ahead.” She followed him to return their tools, then they continued on to his quarters. Upon arriving, they went straight to the kitchenette to wash their hands and get to work.
“When did you take up cooking?” she asked.
He spoke without looking at her, his eyes on an onion he was reducing to tiny, precisely-sized pieces with a sharp knife. “I did a little of it as a kid, but I started doing more during the academy. I get bored quickly with the lack of variety from packet meals, plus it’s nice to do something so basic. It can be relaxing after a day of doing complicated things.”
“Plus, you get the chance to eat without running into anyone and having to make small talk,” she added. “I like the people here so far, but sometimes I just don’t want to talk.”
“Yep,” he said. “You’re very disagreeable. You’ll need to work on that.”
She laughed. “I am not. I just like my space. Not everyone is as sociable as you.”
He put the onions into the heat-ex and activated the grill setting. “I’m kidding. You do fine when you choose to. That’s all that matters—that you can turn it on and use it when you need to.”
She’d expected more teasing, not an actual compliment.
Well, it was sort of a compliment. She chose to see it as such, anyway.
“Thanks. What should I do with this?” She held up the small packets of spice he’d used to season some vegetables.
He pointed to a drawer, then opened the cooler and surveyed the contents with a dissatisfied expression. “I wish they’d stocked the station with more basic ingredients. I’d rather cook dried pasta than use packets.”
With a shrug and a sigh, he pulled out two noodle packets. He took the onions out of the heat-ex, changed the setting, and inserted the packets.
“Probably by the time the crew arrives, they’ll have a wider variety of items,” she said, putting the spices away.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “But that’s two months away. And we’re going to have to work our asses off to get the security in place before they arrive, so we can immediately start running security drills.”
“Why such a tight schedule?” she asked. “They could have had someone else put in the security, instead of having to wait until we arrived.”
“That’s why all the basics are already in place,” he said. “Not only does it protect the station from anyone who might try to seize control of it, it laid the groundwork for us.”
Something about the way he said that caught her attention. “Us? Why us, though?”
He turned around and leaned back against the counter so he could look at her directly. “That’s the other part of this assignment. Yes, you’ll get expertise in security systems and their maintenance, and station protocols, but there’s something bigger we need to do.”
When he paused, she prompted, “What?”
“The captain,” he said. “Phillip Lydecker. Once he arrives, he’ll be our commanding officer. At least, he’ll be the commanding officer of the people we’re pretending to be. But even as we defer to him and give him our bows, we’ll be investigating him for suspected smuggling.”
She blinked at him in surprise. “Well, that certainly sounds more exciting than crawling through conduits for the next couple of months. Why is he under suspicion?”
“Too many coincidences,” Minho said. “Goods that have been in places where he was stationed ended up somewhere they shouldn’t have been. People who have crossed his path have also crossed the paths of unsavory types.”
“So there’s nothing concrete,” she concluded. “Just innuendo and coincidence.”
He nodded and removed the noodles from the heat-ex. “The PAC has no tolerance for officers who abuse their positions. Our job is either to exonerate him or prove his guilt.”
The technical parts of this assignment had interested her in an academic sense. But this…this was the real deal—a Blackout assignment.
A ball of excitement inflated in her chest.
“You got quiet all of a sudden.” Minho turned to glance at her as he stirred the onions and vegetables into the noodles. He paused when he got a good look at her. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“Like what?” Was she smiling?
“Like a mouse who just wriggled into the cheese factory. But, like, a really crazy mouse who’s been taking steroids or something. Don’t smile like that, ever again,” he said. “It’s scary.”
She laughed.
“Now, come over here. These noodles aren’t going to stir themselves.” He extended a pair of chopsticks to her.
She tried not to smile as she sat across from him at the table. She leaned down and scooped noodles into her mouth. “Mm. These are really good.”
“You’re smiling again.” He narrowed his eyes at her in mock admonishment, even as he wore an amused expression. “You can’t be that excited about noodles. Are you that thrilled about the PAC possibly having a smuggler as a captain?”
She relaxed and let her smile fully unfurl. “No, of course not. But the possibility of taking a traitor down…well, that’s exactly what I signed up for.”
He eyed her, and his lips turned up in a small smile. “Yeah. Me too. But we have a lot to do before we get to that point.”
After putting a bite of vegetables into her mouth, she glanced at him. He was focused on his food, but something about him in that moment caught her attention.
She tried to identify it.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re looking at me,” he said.
“You’re the only other person here,” she pointed out. “And therefore, the only person I could be looking at.”
He arched an eyebrow at her, smiled, and continued eating.
Then it hit her. She realized what had made her keep looking at him. Familiarity. There was something about Minho that made him more like her than anyone she’d ever met.
She didn’t know what to make of that, so she focused all of her attention on her noodles.
3
A week after her arrival on Asimov Station, Fallon had settled into a busy but comfortable routine. She and Minho worked the day shift, meeting for breakfast, getting right to work, and meeting up with the rest of the crew for lunch and dinner whenever their work for the day didn’t make it too inconvenient.
She’d met up with a few of the crew to play cards twice, and suspected she’d proven herself well enough to continue getting invitations.
Evenings varied. She usually exercised after work, and Minho joined her every other day or so. If they didn’t work out together, they might meet up to watch a holo-vid or something.
