by Zen DiPietro
“Too bad you’re not invited,” she said.
“Maybe I should make a special request.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“Would Krazinski grant it?” she asked.
“Only if it was in line with his long-term plans. And there’s no telling what those are. The man plays the long game like no one else in the galaxy.”
“Hm.” That didn’t give her any insight into whether Krazinski would consider her request or not.
He shifted his weight, preparing to stand. “I should go. You wanted to be alone.”
“I did. But I had some quality me time. You can stick around if you want to.”
“All right.” He kicked off his shoes and propped his feet on the table. “So what are we doing tonight?”
She laughed. He switched gears quickly. “How about a holo-vid and some snacks?”
He sat up straighter. “You have snacks? Don’t tease me.”
“I brought a few favorites with me,” she admitted. “I might even share, if you promise not to throw things at the vid.”
“Aw. That’s one of the best things about watching a vid. But okay. For you, and for snacks, I will compromise.” He put on a long-suffering expression.
“Fine. I’ll get the snacks. You get the drinks.”
He stood. “Actually, I have some chocolate candy. I’ll go get it, then grab the drinks.”
“Chocolate? You’ve been holding out all this time.”
He winked at her before heading for the door.
She smiled as she opened the cabinet. If she weren’t already fully invested in Raptor, it would have been easy to fall for Minho.
5
Katheryn gasped, and her face flushed bright red. “Oh no! I thought I had it that time.”
She gazed in despair at the drone she’d smashed into the hull. It lay there in a sad, deactivated lump, with one propeller bent. “I don’t know if I’ll get this.”
“You will,” Fallon assured her. “Drone piloting isn’t easy. You don’t even have a flight rating, which all security officers do, so you’re starting from zero. You’ll get there.”
Katheryn picked up the drone, which had automatically deactivated when it impacted the bulkhead, and grimaced. “Thanks, Emiko. But look, I damaged it.”
“All the better for you to learn how to replace a prop,” Fallon said. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. You’ll do most of your training via simulator. I just like to start with the real thing so you can really imagine it when you’re doing the simulator.”
“At least I won’t be able to do much damage on a simulator.” Katheryn smiled self-deprecatingly.
“Like I said, you’ll get it. As part of the command crew, you should have basic drone piloting skills. It’s something you can work on in your off time. A lot of people find it fun.”
“Do you?” Katheryn asked.
“I love flying anything.” Fallon chuckled. She always felt most alive when she was flying or fighting. That was probably why she liked both so well.
“I’ll work at it,” Katheryn said resolutely.
“I’m certain you will.” Fallon had no doubts about Katheryn’s dedication to her career. “Now grab that repair kit and I’ll show you how to change out the props.”
After her early-morning sessions with the lieutenant, Fallon moved on to the main part of her day—surveying the entire station via drone, checking every single security component.
It would take every bit of the two weeks she had left before the captain and the rest of the crew arrived, even with Minho’s help.
She didn’t expect to sleep much in the coming days.
Fallon and Minho set up a schedule where they met in the morning, put on their VR gear, and scanned the station. Although they were technically in the same room for most of each day, they saw each other very little. Instead, they inspected every nook and cranny of the station from their remote location, but in even more detail than they’d be able to see with their own eyes. They checked all heat and radiation emissions, observed power draw, and ensured that everything in the security system worked exactly as it should.
Neither of them wanted to report to the captain, upon his arrival, that the station’s security hadn’t been completed. Suspected of smuggling or not, Captain Lydecker was a Planetary Alliance Cooperative captain. Not just any other captain, either—a space station captain. The position was generally regarded as being one step away from the admiralty.
Until they had proof that the man was a smuggler, he deserved a whole lot of respect.
The dichotomy between the prestige of his position and her assignment to investigate him did not escape her. In effect, she had a position of authority over someone who far outranked her.
She truly existed in a dark, elite place now. It didn’t weigh on her, though. She reveled in it. Finally, she was about to really begin what she had waited so long to do.
Be a clandestine operative. For real.
Fallon threw herself into a grueling schedule of surveying the security system. Minho helped when he had time, but he also oversaw the checks of the other systems. With no other drone pilots currently on board, she had a lot of area to cover.
She set alerts to remind her to eat at regular intervals. She also made sure she slept a full eight hours each day. Other than eating and sleeping, though, she worked almost nonstop. Even when she slept, she dreamed of being in VR, seeing everything as the drone saw it.
After the fourth long day, she removed her VR headgear with a sigh. Smoothing her hair, she decided to visit the mess hall for a snack before she went to bed. Mostly, she wanted the little bit of exercise the walk would provide. She didn’t care for being so sedentary for so many days in a row.
She doubted anyone would be in the mess hall. Everyone was now working irregular schedules, staggering or coordinating their shifts to ensure the work was done as efficiently as possible.
When she arrived, though, she found both Priestley and Jacen eating sandwiches.
“Hey, Emiko,” Jacen said, as Priestley waved at her in lieu of greeting, indicating his mouth, which was full of food.
“Hi, guys. It’s a nice surprise to run into you. I thought I’d be on my own.”
Priestley swallowed and said, “We just finished checks on the air containment system. Thought we’d celebrate with some food.”
“Good work,” she said. “One more system checked off the list, right?”
“Yeah,” Jacen agreed. “Though tomorrow we start with the waste treatment checks, so it’ll be the same thing with different details.”
She smiled, opening a packet of mixed fruit and sitting down with them.
“We’re in the home stretch,” she said.
“The home what?” Priestley peered at her quizzically.
“It’s an Earth phrase. Kind of an old one, I guess. It means we’re about to finish the race.”
“Ah.” Priestley nodded.
“I knew that,” Jacen said in a jokingly know-it-all fashion.
“You’re from Earth,” Priestley pointed out. “I grew up on Zerellus.”
“Really?” Jacen squinted at him. “But you look so human.”
“Ha ha,” Priestley said dryly.
“That’s okay,” Jacen continued magnanimously. “I don’t mind that you’re a colonist.”
“I think,” Priestley said, “that after the first few hundred years, a planet starts being its own thing, rather than a colony.”
Fallon simply ate her fruit and smiled, enjoying their friendly taunts. The jokes about Zerellians still being colonists or not being human were old standbys in the pretend rivalry between the two planets.
As were the jokes about Terrans living in caves and cooking by campfire.
“Zerellians are just former Terrans who were smarter than the rest,” Priestley said, “and they knew enough to leave.”
Another old standby.
“You’re from Earth, right, Lieutenant?” Jacen asked casually.
Priestley and Fallon laughed at his attempt to draw her into the debate.
“Yes,” she said, “but I consider myself a citizen of the galaxy. Don’t look at me to help you out with this one.”
Jacen grinned at her. “Scrap. I thought I had an ally.”
“I hear Zerellus is actually terrific,” Fallon said. “After their colonial days, they established a population with almost no poverty and far lower crime rates than on Earth.”
“Maybe that’s part of the intelligence thing I said before,” Priestley said. His tone wasn’t as cheerful or joking now, though. It had an edge to it. “But ‘low poverty’ doesn’t mean ‘no poverty.’ It just means that the few unlucky ones have a much bigger step down from how the average person lives.”
He clearly spoke from experience. It explained why he was so eager to take an undesirable job for the benefit of a long-term position.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Fallon said sincerely. “The PAC isn’t perfect yet. Hopefully we can keep working toward the goal of eliminating all poverty on all of our member planets.”
Priestley stared down at the remains of his sandwich. She guessed that he regretted saying anything about it.
He nodded, not looking up. He clearly regretted speaking about his circumstances.
Time for a change of subject. “Do either of you have anything you’ve personally ordered coming on next week’s supply delivery?”
Given the impending influx of crew, they’d be onboarding a massive shipment of supplies. They’d receive hygiene products, medical supplies, and most of all, food. Tons and tons of it. Literally.
Plus, of course, crew could get their personal shopping lists fulfilled—like Katheryn refilling her liquor cabinet.
Priestley shook his head. “There’s nothing I particularly need. The restaurants and stores will set up soon after the crew arrives, so whatever I end up needing, I’ll be able to get there.”
Jacen said, “I spent too much money on stocking up my kitchenette. I’ll probably have to store some of it in my bedroom.”
Priestley squinted at him. “You can’t possibly eat all that before you ship out.”
Jacen ducked his head, embarrassed. “I know. I just got so excited about the possibility of some added variety that I went a little crazy.”
Fallon chuckled. “If you don’t want to buy extra luggage to take it all with you, you can always gift it to the people permanently stationed here. I’m sure it would earn you some friends.”
“Eh, who needs friends when I have a surplus of food?” Jacen joked.
Fallon finished eating, but remained seated while the men ate. She was about to make polite conversation about Jacen’s next assignment when Jess arrived.
“Oh, look at that,” the woman said. “A whole crowd getting a late-night snack.”
Fallon hadn’t crossed paths with Jess for a few days. “If you call three people a crowd. But if you’re expecting to see an empty room, it could seem that way. Good to see you.”
Jess gave her a little wave of acknowledgement and opened the cooler to survey her options.
“Of the four of us,” Fallon said, her eyes on Priestley, “you’re the only one who will remain on Asimov. I bet you’re looking forward to meeting the captain and other officers.”
Priestley shifted, looking ambivalent. “In a way. I mean, I’m curious.”
“But probably a little nervous too,” Fallon said sympathetically. “You always have to hope the people in charge won’t be massive jerks, right?”
Jacen laughed in surprise, and after a moment, Priestley chuckled too.
“Not that I’d ever say that out loud to anyone, but yeah,” he admitted.
“Not me,” Jess declared, sitting down with a tray of food. She’d prepared a whole meal rather than just a snack. “If I don’t like someone, I don’t mind saying it. And I’m not one to talk behind people’s backs. I’ll say it right to them. I don’t care if they’re officers or whatever. Like they say where I’m from, sour is sour.”
“Which means?” Jacen prompted.
Jess stirred her food with her chopsticks. “If something’s bad, there’s no sense in dressing it up or pretending it’s better than it is.”
“I like that,” Jacen said. “Not having to guess where you stand with someone. I’d rather that than someone who thinks one thing and says another.”
The irony of him saying that in Fallon’s presence didn’t escape her.
“Who has time for that scrap?” Jess asked before taking a bite of a breadstick.
“Well, I do,” Fallon admitted. “I can’t exactly go around telling senior officers that I think they’re cretins, even if they are.”
Jess grinned as she chewed. “The chains of command like to keep you tied up, don’t they?”
“A hazard of the job,” Fallon admitted. “Fortunately, it hasn’t really been an issue for me yet. There have been officers that I’ve liked a lot more than others, but so far I haven’t met any that are really terrible.”
“You will,” Jess said between bites. “Trust me. I’ve been working around the top brass, the middle brass, and the barely even metal for decades. There are some real shitmeisters out there.”
Fallon laughed at the word, which was a new one to her. “Is that a common phrase where you come from?”
“Nah,” Jess said. “That’s my own invention. Feel free to use it.”
“Uh, sure, I’ll watch for a good opportunity.” Fallon smiled. She was starting to like Jess. Her bluntness reminded her of Peregrine, even though Per was much more private with her thoughts.
Fallon covered a sudden yawn. “Oof. I think that’s it for me. I need to get some sleep before I get back to work. It was nice to run into you three. I expected to be all by my lonesome.”
“Good to see you,” Priestley said.
Jacen nodded and smiled.
Jess just waved distractedly, focusing her attentions on her food like it was a critical mission.
“If any of you come up against anything during this last hard push, be sure to let Minho know,” she said.
She ducked out in the direction of her quarters. She should check in with Minho, but she was just too tired. The space between her and her bed seemed to be stretching rather than closing.
By the time she got to her quarters, she’d given up all thoughts of showering or anything else. She fell into bed, reminding herself to check in with Minho first thing in the morning.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much stuff in my life,” Katheryn said, watching the delivery crew take hover cart after hover cart out of the docking bay and off to other parts of the station.
“It’s supposed to take them a full three days to unload everything,” Minho said, standing off to one side with Fallon and Katheryn to stay out of the way of the workers.
“Is that ice cream?” Fallon wondered, watching a cart of frozen items go by. “I think it is.”
Minho looked at her with amusement. “Do you need ice cream?”
“Not need,” she said. “But when is it ever unwelcome?”
“Good point.” He pointed at another cart. “I think that one’s medical. It looks like they’re doing multiple departments at once. Makes sense. It wouldn’t be efficient for them to all go down the same corridors and wait on the same lifts.”
“I’m sure the entire delivery was designed with maximum efficiency in mind,” Katheryn said.
“Even so,” Minho said, “those of us still working on the station itself may find all this activity to be a disruption. If you hear of any issues, be sure to let me know right away. For the most part, we should accommodate the delivery as much as possible. They’ll be out of our way in three days.”
“Understood,” Katheryn said. “Now, as much as I’d like to stay here and keep watching, I need to go see to our people.”
“You’re doing a good job,” Minho said. “Keep it up.”
Katheryn blinked in surprise, then smiled. She gave h
im a small bow of thanks before hurrying off to her day’s work.
“How’s your part going?” Minho asked.
“I expect to be done in three days. That will give us another three days to handle anything else that needs handling before the captain arrives.” She added, “Those three days are also padding, in case anything comes up in my checks.”
“Anything significant so far?”
“I’ve replaced a few power circuits due to readings that were too low for new components. But that’s normal. Some circuits just don’t last as long as others.”
“I have to admit,” Minho said, “I’m looking forward to restarting the chronometers when the captain arrives. It’s kind of silly symbolism, but it will be cool to be here when the order is given to officially put the station into service.”
“I think it will be a satisfying moment,” Fallon said. “This station will be here long after we’re gone. After the grandchildren of our generation are gone, even. It will be cool to be a part of history in some small way.”
“Exactly,” he agreed.
“Have you been present at other moments like that?” she asked.
“I could tell you,” he began.
She cut him off before he could say he’d have to kill her. “Yep. Catch you later.”
Hastily, she made an exit, pleased that she’d prevented him from delivering that line again.
Fallon finished the last check on the last sensor on the last section of the station’s outer hull.
Done.
Finished.
After piloting the drone back to its compartment on the side of the station and securing it, she pulled off her VR headgear, sat back, and let out a long, deep sigh.
There. She was as certain as anyone could be that Asimov Station had a fully functioning security system. She’d checked every surveillance angle to make sure there were no dead spots. She’d ensured that redundant systems were all operating as they should, to ensure that no lapses were possible.
She’d done it.
She almost couldn’t believe she’d pulled it off. Such a massive project. She’d only had Minho’s help, and some assistance from techs when doing the late-stage checks. But they’d gotten it done.
