by Chris Reher
Terrica, the most hospitable planet they had yet found while exploring the filaments spreading out from the Hub, was still very much a frontier. Rich with water, air and fertile soil, pleasant in terms of climate if you didn’t mind the heat, it easily accommodated the regular batches of migrants. New communities and the networks that connected them spread out from the landing zones to form efficiently designed habitats - a fresh start for the people of Earth who were bent on doing things right this time.
Earth’s Ministry of the Exterior, as much a consortium as the commercial Pendra group, regulated the migration, made necessary by mankind’s history on that planet as much as the desire to discover new worlds. The exodus was not the station’s main purpose, nor Pendra’s main interest, but facilitating it ensured that, so far, Pendra Station was the only port of call here at the Hub and in control of who used it. The ministries of Earth maintained a token embassy here, sharing space with the astrophysics labs that explored the mystery of the Hub itself.
Station staff rushed around Laryn and Ryle, on foot or on scooters, sorting through the cargo and equipment that tended to clutter up the place between inbound fleets from Earth. The air above was no less congested with cargo carts suspended on rails from the slanted ceiling. The sound baffles did little to stifle the racket of people and mechs setting up security and amenities for the expected travelers and so Laryn raised her voice.
“You didn’t think to mention that I signed on with a felon?” she said.
A groove appeared between the captain’s eyes as he turned to her. “You weren’t told?”
“I think I’d remember,” she said with a grin, reminding him of the cognitive augmentation her neural implant made possible. People like her rarely forgot anything.
He walked off the conveyor and took her arm to keep her from tripping as she, too, stepped onto firm ground. She began to object, but clearly her sarong presented a hazard on the moving platform. Having her strangled by one of her wraps on his watch was likely not something he’d care to explain to Pendra’s administrators.
“What do you want to know?” he said, releasing her arm again.
She raised both brows. “That you’re not some lunatic murderer who I’d rather not travel with, for starters.”
He made a sound that might have been a laugh. “I’m not a lunatic.”
“But a murderer?”
He said nothing while a delivery cart trundled past, making serious business of maneuvering around them when its sensors discovered the Humans cluttering the lane. “That’s a broad definition. You know we’ve had trouble with pirates and claim jumpers.”
“You don’t get enslaved for that. Or jailed.”
“That is true.”
She cocked her head to study his expression. There was amusement there, but also something shuttered, telling her that prying into his past would not get her too far. His gray eyes returned her frank gaze for a moment and then his easy smile reappeared to soften his features.
“You’re safe with us, Agent, don’t worry,” he said. “I took a wrong turn once and it wasn’t appreciated. They let me choose between getting locked up in a dark place somewhere, or working off my debt here on Pendra.”
She tipped her head back toward the docks. “On the Nefer? They’re not worried you’ll get the urge to just leave?”
“I get those urges daily.” He rubbed the back of his neck where the embedded network of the receiver filaments hidden by his dark hair met to communicate with the Synergic Neural Network aboard his ship. The JX.9 system lived only while receiving his biotelemetry, tying man and machine into one mechanism. “But Shelody’s got the keys to the Nefer. I’m stuck here.”
“You mean he’s tapped into the Nefer’s AI, too?”
“In a way. He doesn’t have command control over it, but he can shut it down.”
“That must be hard to stomach. I guess having Shelody’s daughter aboard as your first mate would make an escape a bit tricky, anyway.”
His expression darkened and she wondered why the mention of Azah Shelody had turned his mood. “She was part of the crew before all this,” he said. “But don’t worry, Mediary, I’m not about to go anywhere without my ship. She’s worth more than a few years in prison. They don’t need to fret about me escaping from here.”
Laryn berated herself for having ruined the conversation by coming across like the company agent she was. He was right to remind her that she was part of the They they were talking about.
A sharp whistle sliced through the thrum of machinery in the air to startle them. They turned to see Nolan, the Nefer’s engineer, coming up via the conveyor behind them, waving for their attention. Arriving where they stood, he gripped the handrail and vaulted across, close enough to nearly land on Ryle’s boots.
Nolan laughed when Ryle punched his shoulder and then sobered when he saw Laryn, perhaps regretting his childish prank in front of the agent. “Uh, hello. Miz Ash, I presume?” he said politely, but the broad grin stayed on his freckled face.
“You must be Nolan Jone,” she said, surprised that she had to resist an urge to ruffle the man’s spiky shock of red hair. It was the sort of hair that begged to be ruffled. There had been no shortage of information about the engineer among the files she had absorbed and indelibly committed to memory. Having arrived from Earth at age five, he had become a permanent resident when his parents took jobs aboard the station – a good place for a child with an aptitude for complex machinery. But now she wondered if he, too, had run afoul of the strict laws that ruled Pendra Station. She returned his friendly smile and walked ahead of the men toward the main entrance to the station’s interior.
Pendra’s entire complex of landing and loading docks attached to the main body of the habitat at only a few points, able to separate in case of some structural emergency. Automated security systems guarded the few access porticos and the crew stopped at the gate to let the mechanical guardian read the biosignature each of them breathed into a panel. It then scanned for weapons and insisted on reviewing their badges before allowing them into the station.
“Oh, good, it’s still daytime,” Laryn said when light from the nearby star poured through the doors to greet them. The Hub’s distance to the Sun didn’t allow for much real light, but filters set into the transparent, domed ceiling high above them did their job to flood this space with a similar spectrum. In a few hours, the lighting would shift to simulate nighttime to help the station’s residents manage their sleep cycles. Of course, a dimming of the lights didn’t stop them from pursuing after hours entertainment any more than it did on Earth.
Designed to impress newcomers, the commons plaza of the station opened before them like a city park. The swath of greenspace, a little unkempt in places, offered a welcomed reprieve to crews confined to their ships for weeks and months, as time was calculated in this sector. People strolled along winding paths or sat among the greenery to enjoy the sound of wind and birds piped in through the sound system. A series of shops and amenities ringed the plaza, designed to mimic a line of antique shop fronts, complete with street lamps and cobbled walkways. Open gates around the perimeter led to the external modules surrounding the public nucleus of the station. Those led to a maze of modules offering accommodations ranging from temporary dormers for the migrants to fabulously lavish private suites for wealthier residents.
“Did you see Corlan?” Nolan asked Ryle.
Ryle, too, smiled up at the counterfeit but welcome sunlight from above. “Did. Luck is on me and he didn’t fire me. He’s got another job for us, so don’t unpack just yet.”
“I’m guessing he couldn’t fire you even if he wanted to,” Laryn said as they strolled across the expanse of greenery, ignoring the footpaths. “I find it amusing that you call me the Warden, actually.”
Nolan looked from her to Ryle. “You told her?”
“I thought she knew. Looks like Pendra isn’t sharing as much as we think with their… employees.” Ryle shrugged, dismissing the
matter. “How’s the Nefer coming along?”
“No problems to be found with the old girl,” Nolan said. “She’s not going to be resupplied for a few hours yet, give or take a few kilo-secs. What kind of job does Shelody have for us?”
“Not sure. Azah’s got the story.”
Laryn slipped her sandals off to let her bare feet brush through the carpet of glossy, ankle-deep leaves, enjoying the feel of these living things. She did not regret leaving Earth to come out here, but she sometimes missed the lush forests where her group had taken refuge during the Restoration.
“Looks like our mediary’s ready for some shore leave, though,” Ryle said, watching her. “Joining us for some food, Laryn?”
She nodded, pleased by the invitation. Her last assignment had her spending most of her time alone in her cabin, avoided by the ship’s regular crew. Perhaps they had secrets to protect or perhaps it was just the distrust for the Consortium that kept the crews aloof of Pendra’s agents. “Green food sounds nice right about now. Is this your way of fishing for my meal allowance?”
“You got it. Pendra is far more generous to their slaves than Shelody is.”
“Speaking of Shelody…” Nolan said, tipping his chin toward the entrance to the eateries.
The others looked to where he pointed to see Azah, Shelody’s youngest daughter, walk diagonally across the green toward them. She strode purposefully, her boots forging a path through the greenery as if it had no business getting in her way. Like Ryle, she wore the fatigue trousers of the militia to which neither of them still belonged. Somehow, she managed to make the tough fabric adhere to her magnificent shape and Laryn saw Nolan perk up at her approach. Like everyone aboard Pendra Station except for security personnel, she was unarmed.
Laryn nearly took a step backward when the woman came to a halt just a little too close for comfort, towering not only over her but also over Nolan. The only one who didn’t seem affected by her presence was Ryle, whose eyes scanned the perimeter of the plaza as if looking for someone. Reading the challenge in the woman’s expression, Laryn stood her ground and offered a bland smile of greeting.
“Been waiting for you,” Azah said, apparently to the others, but her gaze was on Laryn. Her eyes were almost black enough to obscure their pupils. Her skin, too, was the darkest Laryn had ever seen on a Human, and she had cropped her hair so closely that it appeared almost shaved. “Who’s the princess?” she added, raking those eyes over Laryn’s fine wraps and, for the second time today, Laryn wished she had worn something a little less stylish.
“The new warden,” Nolan supplied. “Laryn Ash. Let’s be friendly.”
“Heard about you,” Azah said to Laryn. “You’ve not been out much.”
“I’ve made a few jaunts,” Laryn said, deciding to ignore the taunt. “I’ve heard much good about the Nefer and her crew.”
“We get the job done. Hope you’re not expecting fancy quarters aboard the ship. We run things pretty tight.”
“Speaking of job,” Ryle said, “you got us a fare?”
Azah’s grin lit her face and transformed her sullen expression into one of both mischief and delight. “The best kind of fare. Someone has to keep us employed while you people sleep the day away.”
“Sleep?” Ryle said with a sudden edge in his voice. “We could have used your help with getting the ship ready for overhaul this morning.”
Azah shrugged. “I don’t do laundry. The ship’s your baby.”
“Kind of you to remember,” he said and started to walk toward the food sellers. “Didn’t think Corlan would let us head out again so soon.”
Azah waved a hand as if at an insect. The color of her dangerous-looking nails matched the purple streaks she had brushed into the sides of her head. “I got him calmed down hours ago. You can thank me later. We’ve got us a real job, guaranteed payment. Unless you’d rather deliver settlers for a while.”
“What is it?” Nolan said.
“You’ll see. Client’s waiting at Toko’s place.”
“Yay,” Laryn said under her breath. As pleased as she was by the invitation to join the crew for a meal, the tavern Azah had chosen was not one frequented by Pendra agents. She had heard of brawls taking place there, along with gambling and exchange of contraband between outbounder crews, or at least those who got along well enough for such deals. She preferred to take her meals in the Pendra staff lounge on the upper concourse.
Ryle’s eyes shifted to her for a moment and he tipped her a wink. “Kalons, aren’t they?” he said to Azah, sounding like he didn’t trust her exuberance. “Do we know anything about them?”
“Nope,” Azah said with a shrug. “But it’s a good thing you brought the new warden along so we don’t have to waste time looking for one. If we don’t jump on this, they’ll hire Roucho’s team so let’s not act like we’re special. They want to take off as soon as we can.”
Nolan had been about to open the door to the eatery when she said that. He turned back. “I need some time to get the ship into fighting form. Not letting you push us past where it’s safe, Azah.”
Her eyes narrowed when she looked to Ryle.
He shrugged, grinning as he walked past her through the entrance. “The engines are his baby.”
Toko’s diner was not on the list given to migrants eager to explore the station on their way through, but some of them would find their way here, anyway. And so this place also received extra generous shipments of fresh produce from Terrica in anticipation of the incoming fleet. The bounty drew the outbounder crews, deprived of such marvels for months, and a din of conversation, music, the scraping of chairs and clatter of plates, overlaid with frequent shouts, curses and laughter, greeted the Nefer team.
Laryn peered around Nolan’s broad back to inspect one of the Entrada crews, wearing their black tanga skin jackets like some outlaw gang. Station staff lounged among them, exchanging their tall tales, their insults, and the never-ending gripes about bosses and the station’s shortcomings. Elevator platforms rose from tables to ceiling to carry dishes and drinks to and from the kitchen above. The patrons helped themselves and passed along what was wanted by their table mates.
“Yesss,” Nolan said, inhaling deeply the aroma of charred fish. “Burry pies today. I think I’m drooling.”
Laryn saw no Kalons among the diners, nor had she expected any. The embassy encouraged interaction between Human and Kalon but the notion had never quite taken hold aboard the station. Humans had been quick to adapt to the idea of extraterrestrial life forms, but the leap from accepting some exotic plant on a distant world to breaking bread with a fully sentient alien remained a challenge for most.
The clumsy, unarmed transports that had brought these aliens here used a disappointingly common EM engine and not much in the way of defenses, but the Pendra Consortium had been quick to embrace the Kalons as welcome neighbors here on the Hub. None of their competitors had the wealth or the clout to set up shop here beyond the occasional and expensive visit from Earth, leaving Pendra a monopoly on the Kalons for their advanced knowledge of biofluidics and other nano-technologies. The Kalons shared this treasure in small increments, perhaps, Laryn suspected, precisely because they understood its phenomenal value.
Another valuable contribution came in the form of the Kalons’ tough physiology that required little oxygen, heat, or pressure shielding to survive. The species’ willingness to help with the assessment of Ophet, recently discovered, had sped up the exploration of that planet tenfold. They functioned there unaffected by the hostile atmosphere, resulting in tremendous savings of resources and equipment.
When measuring progress and profit against the long-term consequences of Hub exploration, the Ministry of the Exterior did not always agree with the Consortium’s goals. Most governments that had any say in the matter regarded the newcomers with more caution. Their jurisdiction here allowed them to insist that Pendra lodged only a few dozen of the polite, reserved aliens aboard the station at a time. When not en
gaged by the science teams, the Kalons worked with the embassy to shape the political and social relations between their species. By agreement, the Kalons did not request passage aboard the ships bound for Earth, and a sentinel was posted at the filament to Kalon to ensure that, in turn, Human adventurers respected the Kalon homeworld.
A few of the patrons had looked up when Ryle and his crew entered the eatery. Some waved, some jeered, and the Persephone’s engineer gestured for them to join their table, but Azah turned away from the commotion. She led the way through an arched opening to a hallway leading to private and quieter dining alcoves. Laryn and Nolan exchanged a surprised glance – these rooms were not for people with shallow pockets.
Two tall individuals were already seated there when the crew filed into the room. Ryle nodded to Laryn to sit with her back to the door, the place usually reserved for the host. As an official ambassador, she was, indeed, the host of this party. The moment turned a little awkward before the crew of the Nefer had settled around the table which left just enough space for a bench along three sides of the room. The two Kalons watched this without a word and without expression on their otherworldly faces.
Laryn reached into a bag slung across her body to fish for the modulator used for meetings like this, excited by the prospect of a private conversation with these enigmatic people. Kalons had mastered the common language used aboard Pendra, but their speech ranged at a frequency too high for the Human ear. These devices were not actually translators, as nothing had yet been able to interpret their language, but it slowed their speech to a suitable range. Before she found the elusive device in her bag, one of the Kalons raised a long-fingered hand.
