by Zen DiPietro
On that particular evening, she was on her own. No card-playing, no holo-vids with Minho, just her and the pleasant fatigue from a long day of installing security systems then a hard workout.
It was nice to have some time alone.
Since she’d missed dinner hour, she tried a little bit of Minho-inspired packet doctoring with some chicken salad and wide, salty crackers. It didn’t turn out amazing, but it was edible. Her fresh salad, though, turned out terrific, and she counted her efforts as a win.
Alone with her thoughts, she reflected on the progress of her work on Asimov as she ate. Afterward, she checked her messages on the voicecom, then sat in front of the holo-projector, only to decide she wasn’t in the mood for a vid.
Of their own volition, her thoughts turned to her team.
Where had Peregrine been sent? Her specialties were disguises and small spyware devices. What kind of job would PAC command have her do?
Or Hawk? His specialties were shady connections, operating among those shady types, and brute force.
He could have gone pretty much anywhere. She hoped he was safe.
Then she thought of Raptor. He came to mind last because he was the one she tried the hardest not to think about. She missed him more than she wanted to. She missed his smile, his laugh, his sense of humor, and the way he cared about people.
Especially the way he cared about her.
Annoyed, Fallon stood and blew out a breath. These thoughts were dangerous. They could drag her down into melancholy. They could distract her from her work.
As much as she wanted to be with her team, dwelling on being apart from them would do no good. It would only hinder her from doing her best.
She wouldn’t dishonor them by letting them become her weak spot. She needed to compartmentalize her feeling of loss. Lock it up and leave it in the dark.
“Right,” she said to herself. “Maybe too much time to myself isn’t such a great thing.”
She checked the chronometer. She had two or three hours before she needed to sleep. She could go down to the engineering section and do some organizing to facilitate the next day’s work.
Might as well be productive.
She quickly changed into a utility jumpsuit, pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail, and set out for engineering.
As she entered the main engineering room, someone stood up suddenly, looking startled. “Oh! Emiko. Hi.”
Fallon immediately recognized him as twenty-year old Priestley Simkopf, the only member of the skeleton crew besides Lieutenant Katheryn Lee who intended to remain on the station once it was in operation.
“Sorry, did I surprise you?” she asked with an easy smile.
“A little,” he admitted. “Not many people work this time of night.”
“Then why are you here?” she asked, keeping her tone light to avoid making it sound accusatory.
Priestley shrugged. “I get insomnia sometimes. I figure I might as well be doing something useful, rather than tossing and turning in my bed.”
She nodded understandingly. “I can relate to that, since I’m here for a similar reason. I figured, with nothing better to do with my time, I might as well get a jump start on tomorrow’s work.”
He smiled. “Yeah. I bet it’s even more of a push for you to get it done, since you’ll probably move on to something more long-term afterward.”
He deactivated the voicecom panel in front of him and it went dark.
She searched her memory for his duty record and his purpose for being on this crew. She recalled that he had been brought on for all of the most menial tasks—cleanup, basic diagnostics, triple-checks of all systems, and so on. The super boring stuff no one wanted to do.
“Doing diagnostics?” she guessed.
He nodded. “Yeah. I have to make sure each panel is properly in sync with the core system.”
“Are they ever not?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “Not at this point. I’m largely superfluous. I’m just here for…” he searched for the right word, “redundancy.”
She laughed. “I bet that’s boring as hell.”
He blinked in surprise, then laughed. “Uh, yeah, actually. At least if something needed fixing, I’d feel useful.”
“It’s a crap job nobody wants to do, but I’m guessing you took it so you could get a permanent position on Asimov. Is that right?”
He ducked his head self-consciously. “You got it. My background wasn’t good enough to get hired on in the traditional way. They offered me a deal, though, so I figured it was worth it in the long term. I didn’t go to university or anything, so it’s a good opportunity for someone like me.”
She didn’t ask why he hadn’t gotten schooling or training in some sort of trade. There were tons of possible reasons, and none of them were her business. “Well, it’s nice to run into you. I haven’t seen you around much for mealtimes.”
He looked down again. He clearly lacked confidence. “Everyone’s been pretty nice, but I feel like I don’t belong. They’re all specialists at something or other, even the ones who aren’t officers. I’m just…” he shrugged. “The janitor, I guess.”
“You’re a bit more than that,” she gently corrected. “Maintenance is a critical function, particularly on a self-contained structure like a space station. Anyone who would disrespect you for that doesn’t deserve their own position. Let me know if that happens.” She pressed her lips into a thin line. She had no tolerance for elitism.
His cheeks pinkened slightly. “It’s nothing like that. But thank you. That’s very kind of you.”
“Not at all,” she denied. “It’s just fair, and what I expect of any duty station I work at.”
He smiled faintly, then stood. “I’m done with my checks, so I’ll leave you to get your work done. It was nice running into you.”
“You too,” she said. “I hope I’ll see you again for mealtime soon.”
He nodded and grabbed his toolkit before hurrying off.
She retrieved her own toolkit where she’d left it earlier that day. That set of tools was quite different from the set Priestley had carried.
She didn’t mind his awkwardness. She understood it, sensing that he was an introvert, as she was. In general, she didn’t crave interaction with other people, either.
Only certain people.
With determination, she set off for the conduit she and Minho would be working on next. She could probably get five or six sensors installed that evening, which would get them that much closer to completing this project.
Fallon had meant to work for two or three hours. However, once she got started with something, she had a tendency to become absorbed in it. As a result, she didn’t close up the final conduit and pack up her tool kit until midnight.
She thought of the long trek to engineering to return the tools, then the walk back to her quarters. It would be easier if she could just take the kit to her room for the night and take it with her at the beginning of the next shift—which would begin in just a few hours.
But that would be breaking PAC regulations, and she had an example to set as a senior officer. Never mind that they were still setting up the station and it wasn’t in regular use yet. PAC regulations were clear.
With a sigh, she set off for central engineering.
She strode down the corridor with a little less than her regular energy, and was surprised when Jess barreled around a corner and nearly bumped into her.
For an older woman, Jess moved fast.
“Oh, sorry!” Jess said, putting a hand on Fallon’s shoulder to make sure she hadn’t been unbalanced. She almost immediately realized that she now had her hand on an officer, and quickly snatched the hand back.
Fallon chuckled. “It’s fine,” she said easily, to make sure Jess knew she wasn’t offended by the touch. “I didn’t expect to see anyone, and I bet you didn’t, either.”
“Nope,” Jess agreed. “Only a couple of us work the night shift.”
“Is th
ere any shift you don’t work?” Fallon asked with a smile. “You seem to always be working. You do sleep, right?” she joked.
Jess grinned. She had strong features, but they softened a lot when she laughed, showing good humor. “Just about every day,” she quipped. “I pull a lot of double shifts.”
“Right,” Fallon said. “You’re eager to get off this hunk of metal.”
“It’s nothing personal,” Jess insisted. “I just want to get the job done and go home.”
Fallon waved a hand dismissively. “No offense taken. I get it. This is what most people would consider a ‘shit assignment.’”
Jess blinked at Fallon’s use of a swear word, then laughed in surprise. “Well, you’re right about that. Not that the work itself is bad, or the conditions are bad. Just…the isolation makes me uneasy, you know?”
Fallon nodded. “To be honest, I’m eager for the crew to arrive and make this place feel like it isn’t a ghost station.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie. Though Fallon didn’t mind the deserted feeling of Asimov, she felt eager to move on to phase two of her assignment there. She was eager to meet Captain Lydecker and start sizing him up.
They fell into step together, heading toward the alpha sector of the station, where most of the major control areas were located.
“So when you go home, where will you be going?” Fallon asked. She hadn’t interacted with Jess as much as others in the crew. Now she realized this was mostly due to the woman’s workaholic nature.
“Zerellus,” Jess answered.
“I seem to remember that you’re originally from Earth. Or did I get that wrong?” Fallon knew every word written in Jess’ personnel file, of course, but she wanted some safe topics of conversation to establish some rapport.
“That’s right,” Jess agreed. “I traveled around from place to place, wherever work took me. Of all the places I’ve been, I liked Zerellus the best, so I decided to make it my home. Of course, when a good opportunity arises. I still have to go to wherever the job happens to be.”
“Sounds familiar,” Fallon said. “Except for me, home is wherever my assignment is.”
“Really?” Jess asked. “You don’t have family somewhere, and think of wherever they are as home?”
“Well, I do, in a broader sense.” Fallon thought about it. Did she really think of anywhere as home? “But PAC headquarters is my home, I guess. I haven’t spent much time on Jamestown yet, but it’s where PAC command is, so I guess that’s home now, in the more immediate sense.”
Jess grinned. “Sounds like you haven’t really thought about it before.”
“I haven’t,” Fallon admitted honestly. “I’ve been focused on being an officer and the future rather than defining my present.”
They came to another cross section. Fallon moved left, while Jess moved to the right.
“Looks like this is where we part ways,” Jess joked, stopping in place. “Good talking to you.”
“You too,” Fallon said, trying to match Minho’s easy way of talking to people. “Be sure to take some downtime. Don’t work yourself into exhaustion.”
“No worries,” Jess assured her. “I once worked seventy-six hours straight and didn’t fall down. A couple months of double shifts is nothing.”
They exchanged a casual wave and continued on their individual paths.
As Fallon returned the tool kit to engineering, she pondered the question of home. Jamestown seemed like the right answer in terms of location. She’d sent most of her personal items to Jamestown to go into her storage unit. The few things she’d brought with her to Asimov were only what she needed for the duration of her time there.
What did home mean for her now?
She entered her quarters, got a cup of water, and sat on the floor with her back against the front of the couch.
Earth was her home planet, and where she was from. It was where her parents and brother lived. But she didn’t think of it as her home. She felt no pull to return to it, and no deep feelings of missing it.
Wasn’t that what she should feel about her home?
Yes, that was it. Home wasn’t a place for her anymore. It was a feeling. She drained her water and stood. After setting the cup in the kitchenette, she went to the necessary to shower.
She took her time standing in the steam of the shower. How nice that Asimov had hydro showers rather than the sonic type. The sonic ones might clean the skin, but they sure didn’t have the same relaxing qualities of a hydro shower.
The people stationed on Asimov would be lucky to receive such modern conveniences.
As she put her towel in the processor, she remembered Hawk stealing her towels in officer training school. She smiled.
A feeling of fondness and belonging welled up in her, confirming her previous conclusion. Home was not a matter of where she was, but who she was with.
Avian Unit was her home. Everything else was just a way station.
A high-pitched electronic warble yanked Fallon from sleep. She immediately rolled out of bed and hurried to the nearest voicecom display.
She’d silenced the voicecom for everything but priority calls when she’d gone to bed.
That meant something had gone wrong.
Her blood already pumping, she activated the display. “Arashi here.”
Katheryn’s scrunched face appeared. “There’s a containment breach in section gamma.”
“Have you sealed that section off?”
“Yes.” The lieutenant seemed tense, but in control.
Fallon nodded. “I’ll meet you there. Has Minho checked in?”
“He said exactly the same things you did. Except for the part asking about him, of course.”
Fallon nodded again and deactivated the screen.
On her way out of her quarters, she grabbed a bright-yellow bag.
PAC regulations stipulated that all equipment belonging to the station must be returned to its correct location at the end of a shift, but it didn’t say anything about officers owning their own emergency tool kits to keep in their quarters.
She slung the bag over her shoulder so that it hung cross-body. It was a decent set of multipurpose tools. If it didn’t have what they needed, they’d find the necessary items in an equipment locker in section gamma.
Minho emerged from his quarters just as she passed his door. He had a bright orange bag slung over his shoulder.
“Nice pajamas,” she said.
She wasn’t kidding. His sapphire-blue pants and long-sleeved shirt had a slight sheen to them, and molded to his form nicely.
He smirked, and they broke into a run. “You too.”
She wore a pair of low-rise shorts and a tank top. She was, for certain, showing a whole lot more skin than any officer normally would during her duties, but in the event of a serious emergency, even the dress code became irrelevant.
Minho’s long, smooth stride was not only fast, but each step also landed lightly. He was a good runner.
So was she. She increased her pace to edge ahead of him just slightly, holding her tool kit against her chest to keep it from jostling around.
A moment later, he regained a very slight lead.
The gauntlet had been thrown.
She’d already charted a mental path to take the shortest route to the topmost level of the station. Deck 6 housed the largest machinery that made the station habitable, including the containment units. They could run diagnostics from there, then put on containment suits to go repair the problem.
With a mental image of the ship’s blueprint in her mind, she estimated that she had half a kilometer between her and the lift that would take them up.
She could easily sprint that distance, so she summoned all the strength in her legs to put on a burst of speed that had her quickly outdistancing Minho.
He just as quickly closed that distance.
She would have grunted in irritation, but she needed all her breath to beat him.
They ran on. Each time they approa
ched a cross section, she sent a fervent wish for no one to pop out and cause a collision.
They turned a corner and she could see the lift ahead. She dug deep for all the speed she had in her body and willed herself to make it there first.
She didn’t let up until she had to, unless she wanted to bash herself right into the doors of the lift. She reached out, both to hasten her arrival and absorb some of her momentum.
Minho’s hands touched the doors at the same moment.
“Augh!” she gasped. It didn’t come out sounding frustrated, due to her heavy breathing. It sounded more like squawk of a startled little bird.
“Why are you so competitive?” He played it cool, trying to hide his heavy breathing.
He wasn’t fooling her.
“What, like I can be competitive all by myself? Like you weren’t running as hard as you could?”
“I could have run harder if I wanted to.” His hand on his chest and his labored breathing marked his statement as tremendously unlikely.
“Liar,” she said.
He gave her a look of mock outrage. “How dare you say that to your superior officer.”
“Superior, nothing,” she snorted. “So far you haven’t managed to beat me at anything.”
He fixed her with a stare that, she was pretty sure, was intended to melt her face off.
They both burst out laughing.
The lift doors opened and they hurried in.
Fallon looked pointedly at Minho’s tool kit. “I see you planned ahead.”
He grinned suddenly, his breathing coming easier now. “Back at you.”
“Better safe than sorry, right?”
“Absolutely.” He nodded in agreement.
By the time they arrived on Deck 6, they were breathing normally.
“I told Lee to have the crew suit up and meet us up there. Hopefully the repairs won’t be extensive.” Minho’s eyes weren’t on her, but on the readout that indicated their arrival at their destination.
They hurried out of the lift and to the nearby location of the deck’s main diagnostics. Immediately, they began pulling up information, looking for what went wrong.
“Hang on,” Fallon said. “This clearly indicates a broken seal, but the pressure inside is exactly what it should be.”
