CHAPTER 3
Station Ceileidh looked nothing like I remembered. Things change constantly, but this wasn’t even home. There were UN troops watching the dock as we unloaded. We were required to wear ship badges while doing so. I got checked out twice to make sure it was real.
Luckily, they don’t know accents from spit because I don’t sound Caledonian.
Then I was free to move about the station. Sort of.
As I headed out of the dock, there was a checkpoint, and it was backed up.
“What’s the thing?” I asked the guy ahead of me.
A guy ahead of him said, “Mandatory ID chip. Necklace for now, but they’re talking implants later, like on Earth.”
I wondered why anyone was putting up with that. Then I realized most of them either weren’t local, or didn’t spend a lot of time slumming. There are several discreet ways out of the dock.
“Oh, damn, I forgot . . .” I muttered, and headed back toward the ship. A couple of people watched me for a moment, probably for my ass, since I was female, but no one followed me.
Then I went past the lock, past the dock, down into the maintenance area. It has the controls, seals and power for the locks. There weren’t any troops here. A couple of maintenance people did look at me funny.
“Which way to Seventeen?” I asked, and pointed both ways.
“That way,” one said. “Five slots. Watch for the pressure bulkhead, it’s just beyond that.”
“Ah, great, thanks.”
I knew where 17 was and actually planned to stop at 15.
Number 15 had a tunnel that dropped down and ran parallel to that pressure bulkhead. It carried main power from the plant. I may have gotten laid there once. I also may have helped a friend who was lit up, come down there.
I had to duck and hold my backpack in front after I loosened the straps, and sling my rolly bag low behind me. The passage went in-station, and would come out in the plant proper, but there was a hatch before that.
That hatch was alarmed. I didn’t want to open it, so I had to decide if I could find another, or risk the powerplant, which was probably guarded. Unless they were trusting local guards. Power out in a station was a catastrophe that could kill everyone.
I found another hatch that went somewhere else and was bolted. I dug into my tool pouch and managed to get a multispanner to fit it. I leaned and strained and it moved a fraction, then stopped. I forced it back up, then leaned in again, and got it to move.
It opened easily once I unbolted it. As long as it didn’t go back to the dock. This had to be on some blueprint, but did anyone know it was big enough to get through?
It almost wasn’t. I shoved my luggage through and followed it, twisting my shoulders and ass as I went. I had some dust and stains now, and could probably pass as maintenance if I needed to.
I was annoyed, and a bit hungry. I’d been waiting to get dinner, because the best fishballs and noodles in space were in a little hole in the wall just past the ID check. I’m told you can get better in the Southeast Asian Federation, but I’d never get there. I had energy bars in my pack if I needed them, but I could last a few hours.
That passage came to a dead end at another hatch. It was set to hold pressure on the other side, so I was safe—it wouldn’t open if there was an imbalance. I tried to calculate angle and distance, and estimate gee. I shouldn’t be anywhere near the docks, but I wasn’t sure where I was. The hatch wasn’t coded, but was secured. I took a listen and heard generic mechanical noise, and decided to risk it.
I undogged the catch, leaned onto it, opened it and stepped out.
It was a secondary environmental control. There were two guys moving around machines at one end, that looked like supersize versions of shipboard air plants.
There was nothing to do but close the hatch, grab my gear, and start walking, carrying them like tools. The two of them heard me, glanced over, and one of them made a pointing gesture in line with his body. I saw where he pointed. There was a gap behind two tool lockers. I walked over, backed in with the bags and left them stacked in front of me.
Okay, so he had some reason for me to hide, and seemed to be on my side. I caught my breath and waited. I could see out through a slit of gap between my duffel and the locker.
A couple of segs later, I saw a UN uniform walk into view, check the hatch with a glance, check one of the consoles and a catwalk overhead, and walk back out of view.
Trif. How long would I have to lurk here? Could I get out without one of their chips? Should I retrace my steps and accept it?
My legs were aching by the time one of the maintenance crew came over and leaned against the wall.
He muttered to himself, “Goddess, I can’t wait for that nosy fucker to take a break. He keeps butting into my overhaul. Maybe I can get something actually done when he takes lunch. Yup, there he goes, to the back corner, where I don’t have to look at him.”
He glanced over at me and flicked his eyes toward the main hatch. Then he stood up and walked back to his job.
I took the hint, slid out, walked to the hatch and through.
There was another UN uniform on guard there. She looked me up and down as I carried the bags, so I said, “See you in two divs if you’re here.” I figure our clock would confuse her, and added, “About seven hours.”
She started to say, “Nah, I’ll be . . .” then realized it was none of my business what her schedule was, and shut up, hoping she wasn’t getting herself in trouble.
I don’t know if she thought about it anymore, but I was around the corner and out of her sight by then.
Fuck. They’d moved in and held the stations at least. I didn’t want to be dirtside, but that might be safest if I could get a flight in. I just barely had enough funds for that.
I hit a bar and watched some newsloads while eating a codfish sandwich. I caught up on the local codes on the station. It was a spacer and engineer bar, with lots of screens and chairs with small tables, and no music.
I’d be able to walk around without being scanned, apparently, in the “interim.” I’d need the chip to rent lodging, arrive or depart, or take a job beyond day labor.
That was a pain in the ass. I understood why day labor was exempt. A lot of transients arrive here, run out of funds, and our government won’t pay to send you anywhere. You can work or starve. Periodically, there’s an emergency appropriation to deport a couple of hundred of them to Sol system and throw them on the dole there. In between, they’ll do anything from hauling trash to sucking cock to publicly humiliating themselves for a cred or a mark.
It’s not all that bad. But there’s a lot of them, they’re paid cash, and tracking them would be almost impossible. Some of them couldn’t even read and wouldn’t be anywhere near polite company for weeks. Some were sex slaves. Those poor people would actually benefit from this.
I’d get screwed, and not the fun way.
I had spendable funds in discreet cards, and I could tap my account here with a day’s notice, but I’d rather not. So I needed a place to stay.
I had a couple of friends I could call, if they were still here. I wondered if it was safe to call, or if I should just show up in person. No one knew who I was, or even that I was here really. I hadn’t reached customs. I didn’t know how far they’d gone on surveying the resident population, or whatever it’s called.
I called, voice only.
“This is Lee,” he said as he answered. Lee runs a small repair shop that stays busy making components for trampers and station businesses. His wife programs nav systems and sometimes has to go aboard to tune and zero them. And that’s as much as I know about astrogation.
“Lee, it’s Angie. I’m insystem.”
“Oh, hi! How are you?”
“Broke, I’m afraid. Can you put me up for a night or two? I don’t mind sharing.” I really didn’t. He was quite good.
“Damn, you always call when my wife is outsystem,” he said. “When am I going to get you both together?”
“When does she get back?” I’d met her twice for a div or so. She was okay, he was hot; I wanted to try the combination, but we all had to coincide for that to happen.
He said, “At this point, who knows?” So it still wasn’t happening.
I turned it back to business. “Yeah. Well, got room?”
“Sure, come on over.”
I had no trouble finding his place, and didn’t see any UN goons. I guess they were at the docks and critical facilities.
I knocked, the door slid open, and he gave me an inquiring look. I stepped forward and planted a kiss on him, and let him have it as long as he wanted. Damn, he’s got good breath control. Strong hands, too.
“Good to see you!” I said with a smile. I knew where this was going.
“And you,” he said. “Just arrived?”
“By a roundabout way from Caledonia.” He pointed to the couch and I sprawled. He took his lazy chair and tapped for drinks. Ginger lime ice showed up. I needed that.
“Yeah, it’s not a good time here,” he said.
“Oh? Fill me in.” Yes, hydration, and maybe food. I finished the glass and he sent another.
“Well, you got tagged by the Aardvarks, right?” he asked.
“Aardvarks?”
“Earth pigs.”
“Oh, that, yes,” I lied. I trusted him but he didn’t need to know. How fast had that nickname come up?
“Yeah, they’ve got a fight on the surface. It’s bad. But we don’t have a lot of choice here if we don’t want to breathe vacuum.”
That was what I expected, but not what I needed to hear. “Crap. Should I cadge a flight back out?”
“You might wanna,” he said.
I made note, and shrugged. “Well, for now I have enough for food, not lodging.”
“You’re fine here,” he said. “No worries.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it,” I said. “So . . . wanna fill me in?”
“However you like,” he said, grinning and grabbing for me.
We went straight to the shower. I guess I have a fetish for hot running water, hot male, and sex toys. I was limp against the wall in a minute, feeling delicious sensations inside and out while getting clean. His shower has a setting to blow air near your face to keep it dry, while misting the rest of you all over and draining down.
I suppose someday I’ll find an actual family, but I’m too much a hedonist. And flaky. As long as I have a roof and few creds, I don’t need more, really.
We got out and he made me some tuna and rice for dinner. He had chicken, and didn’t mix the dishes. It was good stuff. He knows to use enough spice without killing the flavor.
Afterward, I tapped into his access and got the news.
Yeah, it wasn’t good here at home. But, it looked as if I could find a sleep cheap in the day-labor area. If I could book back out to Caledonia, I’d be fine. I was even considering NovRos. It’s harder to work there without connections, and the connection they’d want from me could involve things I do for pleasure that I don’t want to do for work. But I might have to.
Here was fine for a couple of nights, but I needed to work or move, money or distance.
I did more looking, but I was going to have to do footwork to get anything. In the morning, I went out and took a back service route down to the levels where most of the transients hung out.
I wasn’t interested in the grunt labor they were paying a few creds a div for. I wasn’t qualified for any of the really technical stuff. I didn’t want to cook in the one place that was hiring. I know ground rat meat when I smell it, and cat never tastes or smells like chicken. My options were limited.
I made it back to Lee’s place in time for dinner.
“No luck yet,” I said. “I’m definitely going to try to fly back out.”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he said. “There’s almost no news from groundside, but there’s a lot of ships coming in, and not many going out. We may have declared independence too soon.”
“I don’t know the politics,” I said. “Caledonia, NovRos and Meiji haven’t had problems.”
“We have a lot more resources and national capital,” he said. “GDP high enough to embarrass them, and increasing mobility and transportation infrastructure. We’re not beholden.”
“I know it’s always easier to get ships here,” I said. “Or it was.”
“Exactly.”
I appreciated his hospitality. That evening I painted my lips up and gave him the best mouthjob I could. I love the texture of skin against my lips. And he was warm to snuggle with. I can’t have pets with my lifestyle. I miss snuggling.