The Rings of Grissom: Tales of a Former Space Janitor

by Julia Huni

  I walk to the other end of the table and kiss R’ger’s cheek then stalk out the door.

  My room looks like it hasn’t changed since I ran away almost seven years ago. The blank walls hide the meters of closet space, packed with the latest fashions in my current size. The pale blue bed cover looks identical to the one I picked—from a limited catalog of “appropriate” furnishings—as a teen. I fling myself down on the bed, set an alarm for my discussion with O’Neill, and fall into an exhausted doze.

  Hy-Mi meets me at the comm booth at nine-fifteen. He lets me in—for some reason my all-access ring doesn’t open this door. I file that away for later. Between my MCC credentials and my top-lev access, I should be able to go anywhere on the station.

  “The call is set for nine-thirty and will ring through to Ser O’Neill’s holo-ring. Do you have any questions?” Hy-Mi gives me a narrow-eyed look.

  “I’m good. You didn’t need to stay late to help me with this.”

  “Actually, I did. Your mother insisted.” He bows. “But now, I shall retire. I wish you the best.”

  “Thanks.” I sit on the plush bench and lean against the hard wall of the booth. Although it was made for top-levs, it's surprisingly utilitarian. My heart beats in overtime, and my breathing ratchets up. The glass of the booth fogs. I increase the airflow, and the glass clears. I feel like a teen waiting for her first date. I close my eyes and breathe, slow and deep.

  “Triana.” O’Neill’s voice startles me, and my eyes pop open. He stands there in all his shininess, and I have to remind myself he’s not really here.

  “You look better.” I blink, my eyes stinging a little. “I wish you were here.”

  “Tell me what’s happening.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

  “Someone doesn’t want us together,” I say. After talking with Vanti on the ship, I know blaming his family for this situation is just going to backfire. “But it isn’t me.”

  “I’m looking into it,” he says. “There’s no reason you should have been deported. It doesn’t matter—I can come back to SK2 immediately.”

  “No.” I hold up a hand. “Stay and spend some time with your family. Then come back here. For me.”

  Finally, he smiles. “You’d better be there when I get back.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Seven

  Kara twists a lock of sparkling green hair between her fingers. She’s been doing it all evening, and her usually perfect do is looking a bit frazzled.

  “What’s going on?” I reach over and pull the innocent strand from her hand.

  “I—I don’t know how to tell you this…” She trails off, looking away.

  “You and Erco are signing a procreational contract, and you’re moving dirtside to raise a pack of tiny Ercos.”

  She gapes at me. “How did you know?”

  “What?” I gape right back. “I was kidding! You hardly know the guy!”

  “We’ve been together for months,” she says. “Besides, you just know when it’s the right one.”

  This relationship has lasted longer than all her previous ones combined. But that’s no reason to jump into having kids. “So do a short-term contract first.”

  She smiles, and this time, her face lights up. “We’re ready to have children. We’ve been talking about it since you left for S’Ride. And I have enough credits saved up to start a salon in Pacifica City. Near my family.”

  Her family is awesome—I’d move to Pacifica City if they’d adopt me. “When’s the big day?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  I stare at her, speechless.

  “Hah! Got you!” She giggles and gives my shoulder a friendly push. “Next month. We want Ty to be there, since he kind of introduced us. Plus, the lease on this compartment—I can’t leave you high and dry. I have a friend who might want to move in if you need a roommate.”

  “Yeah, about that—”

  Her eyes narrow. “You’re moving, too.”

  I nod. “I can’t work on the station anymore—Mother’s seen to that. I could pay the rent easily, but if I’m not working down here, what’s the point? Although, it’s kind of nice having a bolt-hole away from the Ice Dame.”

  She puts her arm around me. “You’ll be fine. I’m sure someone will want to hire a former space janitor.”

  “As long as that someone isn’t my mother, it’s all golden.”

  Three weeks later, O’Neill finally returns to SK2. I’m waiting in the arrivals lounge on Level 40, dancing from foot to foot. When the doors open and he steps inside, I throw myself at him. He tumbles back, breaking the plane of the virtual security barrier.

  “Halt!” A voice commands.

  “Sorry.” I grab O’Neill’s hand and pull him forward. “Sorry!”

  “Oh, Sera Morgan! I didn’t realize it was you.” The security guard smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

  “You were just doing your job,” I say with a smile I hope looks more real than his. “We’ll get out of your way.” I hurry O’Neill toward the float tubes.

  “Where are we going?” he asks as we drop.

  “Your place,” I say.

  He shakes his head. “We can’t. I don’t live there anymore.”

  “What do you mean?” We step out on Level 27, and I turn toward Radial 10.

  “I transferred off station when we were on S’Ride.” His eyes meet mine briefly then slide away. “Remember? I said I couldn’t work for you anymore. I requested a transfer. They packed up my stuff and put it into storage.”

  I stop in the middle of the corridor. “Oh. I didn’t think that—do you still have a job here?”

  “I’m currently on leave without pay.” His lips twitch. “I was hoping my wealthy girlfriend could help me out.”

  I don’t laugh. “Are you back for good or just back for now?”

  He runs a hand through his hair. It doesn’t look any longer, but in the few weeks he’s been gone, it’s morphed from wavy to curly. As usual, it effortlessly falls back into his casual style. “I don’t know. That depends on you.”

  I thought we’d gotten this all hashed out on Grissom. Why is it coming up now? I hate these kinds of conversations. “I want to be with you. Wherever you want to be. Pick a place, and I’m there.”

  “What about her?” He glances at the overhead.

  “She doesn’t need me.” I wrinkle my nose. “At least, she doesn’t need me right now. She’s only fifty-ish. She’ll be running this place for decades. She doesn’t need me mucking things up for her. I can come back in twenty years and learn everything I need to know then.”

  “See, this is the problem.” O’Neill crosses his arms over his chest. “In my mind, in twenty years, we’re still living happily ever after. Not splitting up so you can come home to learn the family business.”

  “But you could come, too.” The warmth that flooded through me at “happily ever after” drains away at his stoic look. “What do you want me to do? Renounce my heritage? Fake my own death?”

  He takes my arm and guides me back toward the float tubes. “Let’s find somewhere to stay before we make any decisions, okay?”

  “I’m stuck on 83.” I sigh. “Mother decided the station can’t hire top-lev offspring—it doesn’t look good. And to be fair, can you imagine Nicolai Bezos working in Ops? He’d be useless. But now that they know who I am, I’m out of a job. They’ve hired my replacement already—some guy named Wilco.”

  “He’s got some big shoes to fill,” O’Neill says. “I’m not saying your feet are big.”

  “He’s definitely got a lot to learn.” I hold his gaze. “Come upstairs. Mother has a gazillion guest rooms if you don’t mind being that close to the Ice Dame.”

  “I guess I’ll survive.” He slides his arm around my waist, and we step into the float tube.

  “I need to get out,” O’Neill says when we meet for breakfast a few weeks later. He’s been living in one of the guest suites on Level 82. They’re per
manently reserved for guests of the top-levs. “Gloria Huatang just moved in next door.”

  “What?!” Gloria is my nemesis. We grew up on Level 83 together, and she’s always been the mean girl to my nerd. She’s had her hooks out for O’Neill since before he and I met but knowing he’s with me makes the chase even sweeter, I’m sure.

  “She said she’s trying to be more independent, like you.” He bites his lip, trying not to smile.

  “Independent? By living in her grandfather’s guest suite instead of his penthouse?” My skin crawls as I imagine her knocking on O’Neill’s door late at night in her sleazy lingerie, claiming there’s a problem with the plumbing. “Call maintenance,” I mutter under my breath. “We’ll help you.”

  “What’s that?” O’Neill looks up from his ultra-healthy shreds and crumbles and snitches a piece of my bacon.

  I mock-slap his fingers. “Order your own, granola boy.”

  He smiles and eats the bacon. I know he wouldn’t steal food from any other top-lev, and my heart turns to warm goo. Take your lingerie and shove it, Gloria.

  “I got a message from Grissom last night.” He says it casually, as if it’s no big deal.

  My ears perk up, and my eyes narrow. I force them open with a faux-confident smile. “What’s up back home?”

  “My cousin Bill got fined for the shuttle crash,” he says. “Did you know my cousin was the one who took you back to the Vesteralen? Funny coincidence. If only you’d known each other, he could have stopped the whole deportation. Anyway, as I’m sure you’ve heard, the shuttle exploded after he dropped you off. Now they’re saying it was pilot error. He says he did everything exactly by the book. He’s asking if I can come home and help him sort it out.”

  “Pilot error?” My heart squeezes in my chest. I want to tell him Bill is a lying back-stabber, but I remember what Vanti told me—how close his family is. I don’t want to make him choose between me and them. “Did they check into the sabotage aspect? I mean, top-lev.” I smile modestly and point to myself.

  “Of course. They checked that first.” He nods. “If they hadn’t, I would have harassed them until they did. After all, protecting top-levs is my job.”

  He’s been kind of miserable and aimless the last few weeks, trying to figure out what to do with his time while not pressuring me. He obviously wants to go investigate this situation and trying to stop him will only damage our relationship.

  “Let’s go clear Bill’s record.” I lift my mug in a toast.

  He does a double take. “You want to come, too?”

  “Of course—I wanted to come last time. As soon as I got back, I had Hy-Mi arrange a visa for my next visit. Let’s go.”

  “What about her?” He asks the same question he asked three weeks ago.

  I give him the same answer. “She doesn’t need me.”

  Eight

  We take a shuttle dirtside to witness Kara and Erco’s contract. As we enter the vehicle, I stop to look at the airlock. Like the shuttle on Grissom, this one appears to have a detachable passenger compartment. This looks like it would be expensive, but the shuttle company must be highly risk averse.

  “Satisfied with the technical specs?” O’Neill asks as he straps into the plush, reclining seat with heater, private holo-screen, and nighttime mode. This is the station board of directors’ private shuttle, accessed through the private waiting room and spotless airlock atop the station.

  The pilot’s cockpit is hidden behind a huge screen that shows the stars outside. This shuttle will seat eight, with room for a pickup grav-ball game to spare. Additional seats can be installed but never are. There’s a full bedroom suite in the back, even though this shuttle is only used for the twenty-minute drop to the surface. The board gets the best, whether they need it or not.

  I snicker. “I have no idea what the tech specs are on this thing. But after your cousin’s wild ride, I was curious.”

  “This is the board’s private shuttle,” he says. “Vetting pilots and maintenance personnel was part of my job. Unless they’ve snuck in someone new in the last few weeks, we’re safe.” He tosses the words off, but sweat sparkles on his upper lip.

  “You’re nervous.” I jab a finger at his chest. “Why?”

  “I hate flying,” he says. “So much...space out there.”

  “You didn’t seem to mind the cruise.”

  “Oh, big ships are fine—they don’t feel like this.” His hands tighten on the armrests. “And after Bill’s accident, this feels—I can’t explain it.”

  I put my hand over his. “You don’t have to.

  After a textbook flight and flawless landing, the shuttle rolls to a halt outside the Pacifica City Station. The pilot’s voice comes over the speakers. “Welcome to Kaku. Please be careful when opening the overhead compartment.”

  I giggle. “There are no overhead compartments. The pilot must watch Ancient Tēvē.”

  O’Neill reaches up and presses a panel in the wall above his seat. It pops open, revealing an empty compartment. He smirks and points to his chest. “The hired help loads these. You top-levs never see them.”

  We’re only here for the day, so we have no luggage to collect. A high-end bubble pulls up to the ramp as we step out of the shuttle. The door pops open as we approach, and we climb inside. Although I’ve taken this shuttle before—before my escape to the Techno Inst—I’m suddenly aware how isolated top-levs can be. We haven’t spoken to another human since we left Level 83. The entire trip could be automated—like this bubble—and we’d never know.

  O’Neill settles beside me and tells the bubble where we’re going. “Réalta Contract Center.”

  “Estimated time of arrival, ten forty-three,” an androgynous voice says. “Would you like refreshments?” A menu pops up in front of the seats.

  O’Neill raises an eyebrow at me.

  I shake my head with a laugh. “Ah’m not sure I’ll make it all the way to the Centah without sustenance,” I say in a thick Kakuvian drawl, fanning myself with my hand.

  “We have a full selection—” the voice starts.

  “Cancel,” O’Neill cuts in.

  Réalta is the neighborhood of Pacifica City that Kara’s family lives in. The Contract Center is housed in a building that looks like it’s made of ancient stone. We exit the bubble, and it slides away. The shallow steps rise to a wide veranda. Tall, fluted columns hold the roof high above our heads. Three sets of huge double doors open into a vast entry hall.

  The invitation contained a code slip with a virtual guide. The vibration in my ring urges my hand to the left. We cross the polished tiles and continue into a hallway. The ceiling here is only three meters high instead of five, and it feels almost cozy by comparison. The guide brings us to the third door on the left, which opens as we approach.

  Inside, Kara and Erco wait with two other young couples. We exchange greetings and hugs, as if we haven’t seen each other in weeks. Kara left SK2 only two days ago.

  “Are they here for contracts, too?” I whisper to Kara, nodding at the other two couples.

  “No, those are cousins.” She drags me across the room to meet them. “Mine and Erco’s. It’s traditional here. One recently contracted couple from each side. They’re supposed to give us guidance or something. This is Aloff and Verina.”

  I nod and bump Aloff’s fist. “We met before.”

  “At Christmas. Years ago,” Aloff says. “You got me out of the family dinner. I still owe you.”

  I laugh and turn to Verina. “Hi, I’m Triana.”

  She stares at me, her eyes wide. “You’re Annabelle Morgan.”

  I grimace at Kara. “Yeah, but call me Triana.”

  “You’re Annabelle Morgan,” she says again.

  Kara pulls me away. “She’s a bit star struck.”

  “You think?”

  She laughs and drags me to the other couple. “This is Stervo and Ariel. Ariel is Erco’s cousin.”

  I bump fists with them. “I knew a Stervo at the T
echno-Inst. Actually, we never met in person—he was part of my—”

  “—software club,” Stervo cuts in. “That was me. This is Ariel.” He nods at his partner.

  “No way!” I say, knocking knuckles with Ariel.

  “Way,” they say together.

  “Do you watch Ancient Tēvē?” I ask. I’m always happy to meet another aficionado.

  “Is that where you got that line?” Stervo shakes his head. “I’ve been saying it ever since I heard it from you, but I never knew it was a quote.”

  “I’ll send you a link to the vid if you want.” I give him a once-over. “You clean up pretty good. No green skin or horns.” Stervo had been a member of my online hacking club back at the Techno-Inst. We all used avatars rather than our real images—which meant we could look like anything. One of the members looked like a pink blob for a time. “Have you met any of the others?”

  “No,” Stervo says. “I’ve stayed in touch with Portia, but we’ve never met in person. You?”

  I shake my head.

  Ariel’s eyes flick over my shoulder, and she straightens up. “Who is that?”

  I glance behind me and grin. “That’s Ty O’Neill. He’s with me.” After all this time, we still haven’t defined our relationship, but if her expression is any indication, laying claim is a good idea.

  “You still got six months with me.” Stervo shoots a glare at O’Neill. “Are you shopping already?”

  “Honey, I never stop looking at the merchandise.” Ariel fluffs her hair and crosses the room.

  “Should I be worried?” Stervo’s lips compress.

  “I don’t think so,” I say, watching O’Neill fist bump the other woman.

  “You got him tied up?” Stervo asks.

  My eyes just about pop out of my head. “Uh, you and I aren’t close enough to discuss bondage.”

  He laughs. “I meant a contract. Gotta ward off the predators. She might be on the prowl, but I got a signed contract that says she can’t touch for another half year.”