by Alex White
Mohawk guy glances over his shoulder, an expression of bored contempt on his face. He keeps walking, his thick black boots booming on the metal plating.
“Um. Hi?” Hannah catches up to him. “I think this one’s mine?”
She tries to slip past him, but he puts up a meaty hand, blocking her path. “Nice try, rook,” he says, that bored look still on his face. “You’re late. Shift’s mine.”
“What are you talking about?” She swipes a finger across her tab, hunting for the little clock.
“Don’t you have a lens?”
This time it takes Hannah a lot more effort to stay calm. “There,” she says, pointing at her schedule. “I’m not late. I’m supposed to be on at eleven, and it’s …” she finds the clock in the corner of her tab. “Eleven-o-two.”
“My lens says eleven-o-six. Anyway, you’re still late. I get the shift.”
“What? No. Are you serious?”
He ignores her, resuming his walk towards the airlock. As he does, Hannah remembers the words from the handbook the company sent her before she left Titan: Guides who are late for their shift will lose it. Please try not to be late!!!
He can’t do this. He can’t. But who are the crew chiefs going to believe? The new girl? She’ll lose a shift on her first day, which means she’s already in the red, which means that maybe they don’t keep her past her probation. A free shuttle ride back to Titan, and we wish you all the best in your future endeavours.
Anger replaces panic. This might not be her dream job, but it’s work, and at the very least it means she’s going somewhere with her life. She can already see the faces of her parents when she tells them she lost her job, and that is not going to happen. Not ever.
“Is that hair growing out of your ears, too?” she says, more furious than she’s been in a long time. “I said I’m here. It’s my shift.”
He turns to look at her, dumbfounded. “What did you just say?”
Hannah opens her mouth to return fire, but nothing comes out.
Her mom and dad would know. Callista definitely would. Her older sister would understand exactly how to smooth things over, make this asshole see things her way. Then again, there’s no way either her parents or Callie would ever have taken a job like this, so they wouldn’t be in this situation. They’re not here now, and they can’t help her.
“It’s all right, Donnie,” says a voice.
Hannah and Mohawk guy—Donnie—turn to see the supervisor walking up. She’s a young woman, barely older than Hannah, with a neat bob of black hair and a pristine red shirt. Hannah remembers meeting her last night, for about two seconds, but she’s totally blanking on her name. Her gaze automatically goes to the woman’s breast pocket, and she’s relieved to see a badge: Atsuke.
“Come on, boss,” Donnie says. “She was late.” He glances at Hannah, and the expression on his face clearly says that he’s just getting started.
“I seem to remember you being late on your first day.” Atsuke’s voice is pleasant and even, like a newsreader’s.
“And,” Donnie says, as if Atsuke hadn’t spoken. “She was talking bakwas about my hawk. Mad disrespectful. I’ve been here a lot longer than she has, and I don’t see why—”
“Well, to be fair, Donnie, your hair is pretty stupid. Not to mention against regs. I’ve told you that, like, ten times.”
Donnie stares at her, shoulders tight. In response, Atsuke raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
He lets out a disgusted sigh, then shoves past them. “You got lucky, rook,” he mutters, as he passes Hannah.
Her chest is tight, like she’s just run a marathon, and she exhales hard. “Thank you so much,” she says to Atsuke. “I’m really sorry I was late—I thought I had enough time to—”
“Hey.” Atsuke puts a hand on her shoulder. “Take a breath. It’s fine.”
Hannah manages a weak smile. Later, she is going to buy Atsuke a drink. Multiple drinks.
“It’s an easy one today,” Atsuke says. “Eight passengers. Barely a third of capacity. Little bit about the station, talk about the war, the treaty, what we got, what the Colonies got, the role Sigma played in everything, get them gawking at the Neb … twenty minutes, in and out. Square?”
She looks down at Hannah’s tab, then glances up with a raised eyebrow.
“My lens is glitching,” Hannah says.
“Right.” This time, Atsuke looks a little less sure. She reaches in her shirt pocket, and hands Hannah a tiny clip-on mic. “Here. Links to the ship automatically. You can pretty much just start talking. And listen: just be cool. Go do this one, and then there’ll be a coffee waiting for you when you get back.”
Forget the drink. She should take out another loan, buy Atsuke shares in the touring company. “I will. I mean, yeah. You got it.”
Atsuke gestures to the airlock at the far end of the gangway. “Get going. And if Volkova gives you any shit, just ignore her. Have fun.”
Hannah wants to ask who Volkova is, but Atsuke is already heading back, and Hannah doesn’t dare follow. She turns, and marches as fast she can towards the Red Panda’s airlock.
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