Profit & Peril

by Charissa Dufour

  With a little more grace, Bit continued down the wide corridor, allowing people to bump into her and stop her tread with a passive expression. She couldn’t bring herself to smile at them, but she didn’t scowl either.

  Though tiring, she ignored their antics, taking them in stride. Bit knew that she would meet disgust wherever she went. If she didn’t learn to deal with it now, she would have to later.

  Bit reached the ship to find Jack and Randal in discussion with Vidor. From the sound of things the resistance leader had just arrived.

  “Ah, there she is.” Jack motioned her over to their little huddle.

  “I take it no difficulties with the trap?” Randal asked, looking down at her.

  Bit shook her head.

  “What’s this trap?” asked Vidor.

  “Just another stain canister,” Bit said before the others could tell the truth; she couldn’t be certain Vidor could be trusted.

  Jack and Randal stared at her for a second before nodding or turning to Vidor with a neutral expression.

  “Where’s your friend?” Bit asked, surprised at his absence.

  “Oh, Gerrit. He’s busy with work. Something went wrong or whatever. Haven’t seen him today.”

  Bit thought of the burn she had seen on his wrist. “Where does he work?” When Vidor stared at her, she continued. “I wanted to apologize for how I’d snipped at him the other day.”

  Vidor nodded, completely accepting this reasoning. “He works in agriculture. Level three, compartment LLL1968. Can you find it on your own?”

  “Yeah, I think I’m getting the layout down. Thanks.”

  Bit turned to leave. She caught sight of Jack and Randal’s expressions. When she got back she’d have some explaining to do, but for now they seemed to be trusting her. Bit left the ship and made her way to the nearest elevator that would hoist her up to the third level. Thus far she had had no reason to use it, but she had passed it on her way to the core each day.

  She stepped aboard the large elevator and absently noticed how the other passengers gave her a wide berth. Ignoring them, she waited for the elevator to start its journey up. The space station’s four rings were separated by many feet of space. It moved slowly, reminding Bit of the glass elevator that had chugged up to the platform hovering over Johannesburg, back when Calen had first won her from her last owner.

  How much had changed since then, Bit most of all.

  Now she stood armed to the teeth and ignoring the sneers of the passengers, rather than cowering away from Calen. He had transformed her life that day, though she had not expected it. Bit wished she could go back to that woman and tell her how good it would all turn out.

  Bit shook away the thoughts as the elevator reached the third level. She disembarked with the others, and glanced up and down the corridor, getting her bearings. She spotted the numbers marking the compartments and headed toward the right.

  While she had hoped to catch Gerrit as he exited the agricultural compartment, she reached the door while the hallway was empty. She loitered for a few minutes before deciding to just go straight in.

  Inside, she found a busy hydroponics bay. Workers swarmed the aisles between tall stands holding pipes garbed in white jumpsuits with hoods and gloves. Only their goggle-clad faces peeked through the white suits. Various plants grew out of holes in the pipes, draping downward. Bit glanced up to find yet more green vines running along wires overhead.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” one of the workers demanded.

  “Uh… I’m looking for Gerrit.”

  “Ha! The purple S.O.B.! Well, you can’t be in here. He’s off in a few minutes.”

  Bit considered enquiring after his purple comment, but decided she needed to see it for herself before she took the news to Vidor. “Where is he now?”

  The worker frowned at her. “He’s over with the deep tanks,” he wave his tool toward the back of the enormous compartment, “but like I said, you can’t be here.”

  Bit waved to the worker, ignoring him completely and heading in the direction he had indicated. The worker yelled at her, but she continued rushing through the maze of plants and tanks. Quickly enough, she found the large tanks holding bigger fish. Gerrit squatted in front of the controls for the enormous tank, an array of tools laid out for his use. Bit recognized most of them as tools Forrest and the other engineers used on the reactor.

  “Gerrit,” she called.

  He turned to look at her, revealing his stained face and neck. Bit grinned. She couldn’t help but enjoy the look of shock and fear spreading across Gerrit’s face. Before she could think of a snarky response to his appearance, he chucked his wrench at her head and bolted. Bit dodged to the side, the heavy metal tool grazing her ear.

  She charged after Gerrit, drawing her handgun as she twisted around a corner. Gerrit weaved through the aisles of greenery. He was at a decided advantage, knowing the layout of the compartment. He made a few more turns before reaching a door and hitting the release. Bit was tempted to fire at him, but she held back, not wanting to draw attention to their chase. If that were possible.

  Gerrit ducked through the door as it slowly slid open. Bit followed him to the left, heading away from the main circular corridor if her internal map was correct. They ran down the narrow corridor, bumping into a few white-clad workers.

  “Call security,” Bit heard one of them say.

  She quickly stowed her gun, but kept up her pace as Gerrit slammed into a doorway, unable to correct his course in time. Bit slowed just enough to make the turn. They entered another enormous compartment overflowing with green growth. Bit ducked as a melon of some sort sailed towards her. It hit her in the shoulder, a flare of pain erupting in her arm as the melon shattered, staining her already tattered jacket.

  Ignoring the pain, she rushed after Gerrit, bits of rind and melon flesh dripping from her arm. She pressed the injured limb to her side, much like she had done when she had a few broken ribs, and kept running. As she ran, she spotted the man from engineering out of the corner of her eye. In that fleeting moment, she realized who it was—the same man who had chased her and Jack out of the Commissioner’s office.

  “Shit,” she muttered to herself, directing her focus onto her purple target.

  More out of instinct than anything else, she knew the man from Mars had set out in hot pursuit. Whatever his goal, his timing could not be worse. Bit tried to remember that there was someone behind her, wanting who knows what, but most of her focus was on Gerrit as he jumped over a narrow tank with greenery growing out of the top and fish swimming below.

  Bit opted to go around, knowing her short legs had a slim chance of hurtling the tank. The delay lost her precious feet between her and Gerrit. He glanced back, his purple face nearly making her break out laughing, and increased his pace as he made a sudden turn down another aisle, this one filled with tomato plants and low growing herbs.

  Gerrit grabbed a large, red tomato and paused long enough to chuck it at her. Bit kept running, taking it in the cheek. It was more uncomfortable than painful, the sticky juices sluicing down her neck and into the neckline of her shirt. She ignored the sensation and kept running.

  As she took a turn, she glanced behind her, spotting the man from Mars. He didn’t look winded, as she was quickly becoming. Instead, it appeared as though he was keeping his distance on purpose.

  Bit turned her attention back on Gerrit and ignored the stitch in her side. Living on a ship didn’t allow for much running in her daily exercise. Gerrit led them out of the aquaponics compartment and into another narrow hallway.

  “Look, there she is,” called a security guard from the end of the hallway.

  The two guards gave chase, joining the growing convoy. The fresh guards, not exhausted by the long chase, quickly caught Bit, reaching her just as she tried to turn into the next compartment. She felt a hand grip her shoulder and pull her back.

  Bit fell hard. She rolled with the fall, bringing her legs up over her head to
tangle with the guard’s legs. With a conservative twist, she brought him down. Bit scrambled away, untangling her legs with a hard jerk. She felt a painful tug on the muscles leading into her groin, but ignored it as she climbed to her feet. She didn’t wait to throw a punch at the second guard’s face. It went wide and her knuckles slammed into the metal wall. Bit yelped with the impact.

  Rather than trying again, Bit adjusted her burning, aching hand, grabbing the man’s hair before he could duck away. With her bloodied fingers wound into his curly locks, Bit slammed his head against the metal wall. The man crumpled. Without thinking through her plan, Bit plowed her booted foot into the first guard’s head, knocking him out before he could get to his feet. She pulled her gun from her holster and aimed it at each of the guards, repeating the movement Randal had taught her in training out of habit.

  Bit glanced up to spot the man from Mars standing at the end of the hallway, watching her every move, a little grin pulling his thin lips upwards. Bit quickly stowed her gun and bolted for the door Gerrit had disappeared through. The other man followed, the smirk vanishing from his features.

  The door led into another corridor, this one dotted with doors every ten feet or so. Bit suspected it was a compartment of living quarters. A woman opened a door and cried out in surprise as she took in Bit’s appearance, still covered in produce and limping. She stowed her gun again, not wanting someone to get accidentally shot.

  Bit eyed the long, empty corridor. Her confrontation with the guards had only taken a few seconds, but it was enough for Gerrit to duck into one of the units.

  “Get back inside,” she ordered the woman still standing in the doorway. “You have anyone with you?”

  The woman shook her head, taking a diminutive step back into her unit. Bit chose to trust her and sprinted to the next door, slapping the release panel. The door beeped and Bit heard a call from within.

  “Coming!”

  At the same moment her pursuer appeared at the end of the hallway, moving slowly, and she heard a scream from a unit two doors down. As Bit raced for the door, a teenager stumbled out of the unit, her eyes wide with fright.

  Bit pulled her gun from her holster as she slipped into the unit. A crash sounded from the next room over and she slapped the release pad with the back of her gun-hand. The door slid open and she slipped in with the barest amount of clearance. Inside the bedroom unit she found Gerrit’s legs dangling out of the air vent in the ceiling.

  “Oh, hell no.”

  Bit grabbed at his ankle, missing by a hair. She scrambled onto the bed, the closest furniture to use as a step-stool. She jammed her gun into her holster, yet again, and jumped for the air vent. She caught it and dragged her body up into the dark hole, her arms shaking with the effort. Bit sent a little “thank you” to Randal for all the times he’d made her do five more pull ups.

  Dragging herself into the vent, she paused to fold herself up and pull the vent shut. From her place over the vent she watched as the man from Mars entered the bedroom, glanced around, and left, the automatic door sliding shut behind him. Bit counted to thirty before slowly sliding through the dusty vent. She reached the first intersection and turned, having seen which way Gerrit had gone.

  Sliding to the middle of the long vent, Bit paused and listened, straining to hear any thump beyond the sounds of people in their housing units. At last she heard a metallic thump ahead of her. She dragged herself forward at a snail’s pace, taking the time to remain as silent as possible. She reached a turn off and peeked around the corner. Gerrit lie draped across another vent, trying to silently jimmy it open.

  Bit swam through the thick dust, the particles sticking to the juices on her face and clothing, until she reached him; she grabbed his ankle and whispered, “Don’t even…”

  Her words turned into a gasp of panic as the vent gave way and Gerrit fell headfirst through the hole. Bit slide forward, her grip on his ankle dragging her after him into the room below. Bit coughed as their movements stirred up yet more dust. As she fell, she rolled, landing on her back. She found herself in the living quarters of another living unit. By the looks of the layout, they were in another compartment. This one appeared to hold small studio units designed for the single inhabitants of the space station.

  Gerrit was already scrambling to his feet, leaving dusty hand prints on the stark-white sofa. Bit rolled to her knees and slammed her combined fists against his spine. He dropped to his stomach, his head grazing the metal frame of the sofa.

  Bit crawled to his side and pressed her fingers against his throat. A steady pulse beat against her fingers. Bit let out a sigh. She glanced around the empty studio unit, noting a lack of personal objects. No pictures hung on the walls, the bed’s mattress lay bare, and nothing sat on the kitchen’s sterile-looking countertops.

  Letting out another sigh of relief, Bit realized the unit was vacant—hence why Gerrit had chosen it. She looked around, spotting a closet in the far corner. Bit dragged her tired, aching body up to her feet and took hold of Gerrit’s wrists. She hauled him across the metal floor, using all her strength to get him into the closet. With the door shut on his crumpled form, she pulled a small dresser over to the old-fashioned door and pressed it up underneath the door lever, keeping it from turning downward.

  Bit pulled her comm. device out and keyed in the ship. As she waited for a response, she opened the front door and glanced up and down the hallway. It was empty. Bit walked out as casually as she could, glancing at the unit number. She reached the end of the hallway, which emptied out into the main corridor that circled around the entire level.

  “Bit?” came Nathyn’s voice through her comm. device.

  She glanced up at the compartment number—PPP. “Hey, purple face and I want peas for dinner. Oh and did you read that book on 1964?”

  “Uh… yes?” Nathyn sounded like he was asking a questions rather than playing her game.

  “Cool. What was your favorite chapter? Mine was k64. Did you like that one? With the scene in the closet?”

  “Oh yeah… k64… good… chapter?”

  “Well, tell Randal I’ll be back for dinner as fast as I can. One more thing to do before I head back.”

  “Right. Be fast.”

  “Will do,” Bit said before returning the comm. to her belt.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “She said what?” Jack stared at Nathyn.

  “She said she wanted peas for dinner and asked me about a book.”

  “What book?” asked Randal.

  “A book on 1964. And she mentioned a specific chapter.”

  “What chapter?”

  “K64. What book has chapters titled something like that?”

  “Well obviously it’s not a book,” sighed Randal, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “But what is it?” asked Jack. “And what does it have to do with peas for dinner.”

  “Let’s think, she went to visit Vidor’s friend…”

  “Gerrit,” provided Jack.

  “Right, Gerrit. Where was that?”

  Jack frowned for a second. “Third level somewhere. LLL something in the nineteen hundreds.”

  “Okay so 1964 is probably the compartment number,” replied Randal.

  Nathyn pulled out his pad and connected to the ship’s mainframe, where he pulled up a schematic of the space station. “1964 is a housing compartment.”

  “So then k64 is probably the unit number.”

  “But why does she want us to go there?” asked Nathyn.

  “Did she sound hurt?” asked Randal, worry coloring his voice.

  “No. In fact she said she had one more errand to run.”

  They all glanced between them, wondering what piece to the puzzle they were missing.

  “Think, Nathyn,” began Jack, “did she say anything else? Anything unusual.”

  Nathyn frowned, staring down at the metal floor plating. “She called me ‘purple face’.”

  Randal and Jack’s faces lit up. Nathyn fr
owned at them, wondering what purple face could possibly mean.

  “She found our guy,” exclaimed Randal.

  “And he’s in unit k64 of compartment 1964,” finished Jack.

  “But what arm is it on? We know level three but that has a lot of sections,” asked Nathyn.

  Their faces fell and they went back to staring. Randal scratched at his head.

  “Okay, let’s go back to the beginning. She called you purple face—that’s the guy—she talked about the book—that’s the compartment number—a specific chapter—that’s the unit number.”

  “Peas,” Nathyn said. “She wants peas for dinner.”

  Jack and Randal groaned.

  “We’ve got to ask her to make these codes simpler,” Randal said as he waved towards the stairs. “C’mon, Jack. Let’s gear up.”

  They ran downstairs, grabbed their weapons, and returned to the central area of the living level, just outside the airlock.

  “One last thing, guys. She said the chapter was all about closets.”

  “Of course she put him in the closet. Duh, Bit,” Randal sighed as he entered the airlock.

  Having not spent as much time in the space station, Randal and Jack took a while to search the area, finally finding compartment PPP1964. They entered, trying their best to appear nonchalant as they weaved through the narrow hallways, eyes glued to the unit numbers. Finally, they found the unit, jabbed the release panel, and entered, their eyes examining the strange men.

  Jack sighed in relief when they found the unit vacant, the studio room devoid of any personal effects, even blankets on the bed. Randal crossed the room in three long strides and pulled a small dresser out from under the handle of the closet. Jack focused his weapon on the door as Randal jerked it open.

  A limp body slumped over, falling out of the closet. They both felt their jaws dropped as they recognized Vidor’s friend under the purple stain.

  Jack stowed his gun. “Didn’t see that coming.”