by Lee Killough
“You need that calcium binding drug the Borkentek station was developing.”
Nakashima smiled. “Development now continuing in one of our labs, since we have acquired the research and the researchers.”
“I never read about that.”
“No.” She gave him an inscrutable smile and waved her left wrist past a scan eye beside a round portal in the shaft.
When it split open, she led the way through the thick wall of the shaft onto a shelf platform beyond. Which ended at a yellow and black warning stripe.
Ended. From there a twelve or fifteen foot void stretched between them and a matching platform on the far side.
Looking over the edge, Janna sucked in a breath.
Mama grinned. “It isn’t like we can fall, Bibi. The only difference between this and the shuttle is the amount of open space.”
But . . . what an amount! The shaft — white, sides ridged by conduits — stretched down for seeming infinity. Light panels glowed along its length, true, and colored sections ringed it at intervals. But neither color nor light, nor having seen its finite length from the shuttle, altered the impression of an abyss. Some tiny figures below clung to the side. Others floated in the middle.
Nakashima said, “I admit our central shaft can be disconcerting at first, but you’d be surprised how quickly everyone adapts. In no time they’re leaping in, grabbing a handrail . . .” She pointed at bright orange bars running down the left and right sides of the shaft. “. . . and propelling themselves to another level. The cable lift is a mechanical means of transport.” She waved right at two cables with loop handholds — one moving up, the other down — accessed from an arm of the platform arcing around them. “Or if you don’t mind waiting, there are elevators. We’ll use that today.” This time she gestured left.
Sitting adjacent to the platform on a vertical rail, it looked like clear-walled elevators on Earth . . . except open on this side and equipped with overhead hand straps. Plus a magnetic floor, Janna discovered as she followed their guide aboard.
Nakashima touched a light in a skyscraper-sized control array on a podium at the front of the car.
Mama eyed it. “That’s impressive. I didn’t realize from space how large the station is.”
“Not this large. The panel was designed to accommodate future expansion.”
“How do you think the stockholder’s meeting might affect that?”
Nakashima gave him a calm smile. “We are unconcerned.”
Across from them, another elevator rose carrying a male with luggage.
Janna said, “The shuttle crew was curious what the lower ring modules are going to be used for.”
Nakashima flicked her a glance. “It’s hardly a mystery. Simply creating more room to fulfill the station’s mission of research and development. Speaking of construction, let me point out an aspect significant for your visit here.”
A deliberate change of subject? Janna wondered.
“You’ll have noticed we passed an orange ring and are now passing another. The colored sections indicate the various levels — which are spaced apart roughly two storeys of a building on Earth — where you’ll find portals into the modules.”
Janna saw the portals . . . large round ones — closed — on four sides of the shaft, and alphanumeric designations — 3A, B, C, D; 4A, B, C, D — on both the top and bottom of their threshold platforms.
“These are the storage and maintenance levels.” Nakashima’s voice slipped into the delivery of a practiced tour guide. “The red ring we’re approaching is Administration, to which we’ll return later.”
Not only Administration. Janna read Data, Medical, and Security on the other platforms. “How do you cross the shaft if you’re on one platform and need to reach another?”
“In a hurry we might dive across. I usually walk. The orange stripes between portals on the shaft are magnetic walkways.”
Janna spotted them, each a step above the level of the platforms. So . . . one could walk the wall as she had the receiving bay bulkhead.
“Guest quarters are in the yellow ring we’re approaching. The four green rings below that identify our greenhouse levels, where we now grow most of our own food. Levels Seven and Nine are ring modules, which rotate to simulate about half of Earth’s gravity. The rings include not only greenhouses but a gym and sports facility in the rim of Seven and a park in Nine, all of which we encourage everyone to use daily. Periodic gravity is necessary for bone health, and grass and flowers — connection with nature — are psychologically healthy. The gym, of course, also helps us maintain muscular strength, which can weaken in weightlessness. Food, retail, and entertainment facilities are in modules around the orange ring beyond those. You don’t have to remember that. We’ll issue guide cuffs to let you find your way around the station.”
The elevator halted at the 6A threshold platform. And yes, another orange stripe crossed the yellow between each of the three portals here. The platforms bore no identification other than the alphanumeric designations, however.
“Why is there no C platform?” Mama asked.
“The ward module of the Medical Center extends down to this level. Now . . . entering modules.” Nakashima pointed at a scan eye beside their portal. “A wave with either arm opens portals from the shaft into free access areas like the gym, park, Emporium, Food Services, and Medical Center. Portals into housing modules scan for an authorized scib . . . those of residents and individuals who have been designated as authorized visitors. The portals to individual quarters, of course, open only for the occupants. We’ll set your portal for you before we leave to meet Mr. Fontana, and Security will scan your scib into the computer when they issue your guide cuffs. Entry into restricted areas requires an authorized scib and retinal scan or an authorization code.”
She waved her arm past the scanner eye. The portal split open on a corridor — yellow, too, but more golden — with an arched ceiling and a floor that looked like carpet but gripped Janna’s moccasins. Against the bulkhead to the left of the portal stood a seven-foot capsule with a bright orange cross on its clear front. Light panels glowed between five oval portals on each side of the corridor and above a large hole in the far end of the deck. Except for the shape of the doors — and the capsule and hole in the deck — it looked much like a high quality hotel.
Somehow disappointing, Janna found to her surprise.
Nakashima waved her arm across the first door on their right. “We’ve put you in a double unit.”
The door disappeared sideways and a light came on inside.
Nakashima glided in ahead of them and turned, smiling, to spread her arms in welcome. “Your quarters.”
Not a huge room but comfortable looking. Yet again, disappointing. Except for the far wall rising in a curve over them — the portion directly overhead glowing with pleasant, shadowless light — the room differed little from a good hotel. Pale blue walls, with two sections of vertical blinds of the same blue taking up most of the wall on their right. A built-in bar in the left wall had containers secured above it behind sliding doors. A subtle nebula-like pattern swirled through faux-carpet on the floor. In the center, two curved sofas of darker blue — presumably fixed in place — faced each other across a round table.
Mama sighed.
Nakashima’s brows rose. “Is there a problem?”
He smiled wryly. “Not really. I just expected something more . . . out of this world?”
Yes, Janna realized. Exactly. Especially after being disconcerted by the central shaft and shifting orientations.
“Ah.” Nakashima smiled. “I apologize. We’ve furnished our guest quarters for corporate executives and junketing politicians. They tend to want familiarity. The horizontal division of the module, however, is our standard design, being convenient for a number of reasons. But there are other configurations, as you will discover. For now, let me run through your quarters’ features.”
Stepping between the sofas, she turned the tabletop
. It irised out into a circular rim reaching over the sofa cushions — far enough to cover the thighs of anyone sitting there, holding them in place. At the same time, a large, two-sided vid screen rose in the now open center, projecting virtual menus and keyboards toward the sofas, while two VR headsets hung on the screen’s sides.
“The menu gives you the directions and guest passcode for connecting to our library of vids and VR vids.”
“No internet connection of course, ”,” Mama said.
“Not to Earth’s. The station’s public datanet is quite extensive, accessible on this screen and another I’ll show you presently, and on your slates after entering the passcode. Here are your bedrooms.”
She pulled aside one set of vertical blinds — secured in tracks top and bottom — revealing a space with ship-cabin design: a bunk topped by a cover zipped up the middle, a narrow chest of drawers, mirror, and small closet enclosed in clear sliding doors.
“The bath facility is between the bedrooms. The commode has directions for its operation, though I assume your shuttle flight taught you how to use one.”
They nodded. It had . . . thigh clamps, vacuum and all.
“You can also shower. It’s the clear tube, also with directions. There is one feature to provide the feel of a space station.”
She glided to the outer wall and opened a small panel next to it.
Janna caught her breath as the wall turned into a window looking down on Earth. A view that gave way a moment later to the arch of the Milky Way.
“You have a wide choice of images. Earth, of course. Also the Moon, most of the planets, and a variety of space views like this one. You can also use it when connecting to our datanet.” She touched a button and a keyboard displayed on the wall. “Or play vids if you prefer this size over the sofa screen.” She tilted her head for a moment and tapped the keyboard away. “Mr. Fontana is ready for you.”
They picked bedrooms and shoved duffels into their respective closets.
At the door, Nakashima opened a panel beside it, tapped a Set key, and had each of them hold a wrist to a scan port above it.
With a final tap on the key, she closed the panel. “Now the door will open only for you.”
Or, Janna reflected, exchanging glances with Mama, someone with a master code reader.
Reaching the threshold platform again, Nakashima said, “Since we’re going just one level, we’ll take the cable.”
Mama said, “How about swimming?”
Nakashima blinked. “What?”
“Like this.” Grinning, he stepped into the shaft.
“Mama!”
Reflex made Janna grab for him. By the time her brain engaged to stop her, her moccasins had lost their grip, launching her from the platform, too.
Janna never screamed. She prided herself on it, no matter how startled. But falling into an abyss ripped a shriek from her. Flailing wildly, she clawed for a handhold. In vain. It only made her start rolling in the middle of the shaft.
“Detective! You’re not falling. Just—”
“Bibi.” Mama’s voice overrode Nakashima’s, almost singing her name. “So glad you decided to join me.”
While she spun, he must have been crossing above her, because as she rolled, she saw him around the shaft, holding one of the handrails Nakashima pointed out earlier. Further rotation showed her two males and a female in colorful body suits riding up and down respectively on the cable lift. Regarding her with amusement. As she continued rolling, however, Mama filled her vision, his grin a gleaming swathe in the darkness of his face.
Fury swept aside panic. The bastard was enjoying this! See if he still grinned after she . . .
The forming threat dissolved her panic and let her assess her situation. Not falling, as Nakashima reassured her. Angling down, yes, but on a shallow oblique. Floating sideways across the shaft.
Another turn spotted the wall coming nearer. She relaxed and let momentum carry her toward it.
“That’s it,” Nakashima called. “I doubt you’ll hit hard enough to rebound. But for a full stop, find something to grip. Then you can push off toward the handrail, or aim back here.”
Closing on the wall, Janna began scanning it for handholds.
Then something grabbed her left foot and jerked her to a stop.
“I’ve got you, Bibi.”
She looked down to find Mama holding the foot, his body stretched toward her . . . anchored by toes hooked behind the handrail beside the D platform.
Grinning, he reeled her in, hand over hand up her cargos to her knee until he held out his free hand. When she grabbed it, he pulled back, towing her in reach of the handrail.
Once both of them had hold of it, he unhooked his toes and straightened, letting his body stream out like a banner. “Isn’t this fun?”
“Fuck you.” She sucked in a deep breath of relief.
“I’ll meet you at the Admin module,” Nakashima called, reaching for a loop on the cable.
Mama pulled on the handrail and sailed upward. A second pull increased his speed.
Following, Janna decided this had been a useful experience, despite feeling like a zipwit. At least she knew what to expect if she fell into the shaft again.
The handrail reached the Data platform. The portal there had two scan eyes beside it, Janna noticed, crossing the platform toward the walkway. Clearly one of the more secured areas.
Mama brushed by her. “I think I’ll jump.”
Matching action to words, he pushed off the edge of the platform.
But Janna saw that without gravity, he sailed not in an arc but a straight line threatening to carry him over the platform. She watched him recognize the problem, however, and stretch a leg down hard, foot pointed, so his toes caught on the edge of the platform.
“Nice save,” she called.
She chose walking to the Admin platform.
Another amazing experience. The change of orientation she expected, perceiving the walkway as “down” — like the bulkhead earlier — and the shaft now stretching left and right of her, but the treadmill effect caught her by surprise. As though she walked in place and the shaft turned beneath her.
Waiting for them on Admin’s threshold with the portal open, Nakashima frowned impatiently. “Mr. Fontana is waiting.” Then led the way inside.
Like the guest module, Administration had a central corridor. There the likeness ended. No walls separated it from the offices surrounding it in 360 degree cross-sections. It reminded Janna of an underwater tunnel through an aquatic exhibit. Except instead of displaying fish, waist-high desks with keyboard tops — but no chairs — sprouted along the curve of the bulkhead. Looking for the screens to go with those keyboards, Janna spotted them along the outer half of the cross-section walls, while wedges on the nearer half glowed like the guest quarters ceiling. Janna watched a fem put a finger on one screen and pull it with her as she glided beneath them to a jon waiting on the other side.
“Living in the round.” Mama said.
Yet for all the space, Janna saw relatively few personnel. “Did you build for expansion here, too?”
Nakashima said, “You never see all our staff at once. Since the station operates around the clock, Mr. Fontana permits us — other than personnel in sections like construction, Security, and the hospital, where schedule is essential — to work when we choose. The only requirement is that assigned duties be handled in a timely fashion and all deadlines met.”
“It sounds like a perfect situation for timesliders.”
Her brows rose. “We’ve had no one, to my knowledge, pretend to work without doing so. Why go to the effort of applying here if the job doesn’t interest you? Clerical and unskilled positions don’t pay that much more than comparable ones on Earth.”
Beyond a final cross section wall, the walkway ended with portals ahead and on each side.
Nakashima waved her wrist past the one on the right. Moments later a light in the middle turned green and the portal slid open. Nakash
ima waved them through. “Your guests, Director.”
Stepping into the office, Janna saw nothing at first but a great nebula filling most of the bulkhead curving over them, its image even more impressive than on the guest room wall.
It took Fontana’s voice — “Detectives. Welcome.” — to find him moving from behind another waist-high desk past a screen wall, hand extended. “I do apologize for not greeting you in Receiving, but . . . executive duties. The station is like a machine with a thousand gears, and I have to make sure they all keep turning. I hope you had a pleasant flight and your quarters are satisfactory.”
Mama shook his hand first. “Fine, thank you.”
He looked older than he had looked on the screen in Paget’s office. This close, lines showed in his face, though the flesh did not sag. A benefit of weightlessness. Or maybe physical fitness. He looked lean under his green-to-silver polychroic body suit and Janna felt callouses on his palm suggesting workouts with weights.
She noted that his amber eyes appraised her, too, and wondered again how much he might know about smuggling, and Chenoweth’s death.
Releasing her hand, he smiled past her at Nakashima. “That’s all Gin. Thank you for taking care of our guests.”
“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Fontana.” She smiled back with invitation in the sloe eyes.
Anticipating more intimate thanks later?
With the portal closed behind her, Fontana’s smile vanished into a grim line. “So. You believe we’re the victims of not only smuggling but . . . murder?”
“Yes, sir,” Janna said.
Fontana shook his head. “None of the evidence in Mr. Chenoweth’s death suggests it was anything but a tragic accident. But that’s why I invited you, to let another set of eyes take a look. Let me introduce someone involved in both these matters, my Chief of Security, Tabanne Geyer.”
Another individual lost against the grandeur of the nebula’s image stepped forward into visibility.
At the edge of her vision, Mama stood taller. Hormones whooping, no doubt.
Saluting the dazzling vision of tawny skin, cheekbones even more stunning than Viper’s, and violet eyes so dark they looked black. Her combo headset/visor look almost like a tiara over black hair buzzed as short as Janna’s. A gold oval badge patch gleamed over her left breast, Lanour’s stylized L/tree-of-life logo a darker shade of gold in its center. While not quite Janna’s height, her uniform — a light blue body suit with cargo pockets in the pants and an iridescent stripe running down the front from midway between her neck and right shoulder to the bottom of her pant leg — sheathed a body looking lithe as a panther’s. And just as coiled to spring.
