Saraya’s moon, Standard Year 404 after founding

  The sound of the alarm going off awoke James from his restless sleep. While typically he slept well under nearly any circumstances, the tight space and their location deep into enemy territory left their mark. Stifling a wince, he reached for the sealed and filtered water they had on their shuttle. It was a precaution, as Angerona was unlikely to have gotten onto their Tundran shuttle. A precaution he was starting to seriously regret. As Clara had noted, the water was vile. Henry was already awake, looking back at James calmly. Whatever his thoughts, his face reflected the assurance James always projected.

  “Time to go.” Henry said with a slight smile.

  Pushing down any hesitations he may have, James grinned back. “Let’s get this done and go home.” He said, putting on his helmet and holding his hand out to Clara.

  The return trip was easier, with darkness now on their side. They were timing their return to coincide with the descending darkness, long before their scheduled rendezvous. If Tom ended up captured, by waiting they would risk walking into an ambush. There was a slight chance of that even now, but time was on their side.

  “We hit the easiest targets first.” James said out loud. “The two nukes destined for the shipyards can be planted now, before we ever go in.”

  Henry and Clara nodded, leaving the obvious unspoken. If they succeeded here and never came out of the Sarayan moon station, at least a part of their mission will have been accomplished. In unison, their steps slowed down slightly as they reached the outer perimeter of the shipyard. As long as Tom had not been questioned, with their fully Sarayan gear, they should not trigger immediate suspicion. Even if they were noticed here, they would have a chance of talking their way out. They walked on, heading past the dilapidated ships that were more junk than ship and on to the inner perimeter, where shorter term repairs on more viable ships were being made. At first, no one stopped them, no one seemed to be around.

  There was a discernible shift as they neared the station. Movements and the sparks of welders working within their oxygenated air bubbles became visible all around them. James looked around. The good news was this was clearly the prime target area. The bad news was that the boundary between useless hunks of ships and active repairs was clearly delineated and distinct. They could now hear the background chatter of unsecured short distance comms as repair crew grouched, joked, and at times even discussed the business of ship repairs. So far, they had been allowed to walk by without questions. Unsurprising given the undercurrent of urgency and exhaustion he heard over the open channels. But it wasn’t the kind of area where one could start drilling holes without getting noticed. James paused in front of one of the more dilapidated looking ships and led his team inside the gaping hull, hoping to minimize their chances of being noticed.

  “What if we drill through the ship and make a hole underneath?” Henry suggested. “No one will see us from the outside.”

  “They might notice there’s a hole in the lunar crust underneath the ship.” Clara pointed out. “That’d look odd as hell. Not the sort of thing you just overlook.”

  James nodded. It was a fair point, but they may need to take the risk. Unless… it was a very small moon, after all. “What if… what if we move the ship?” He said out loud.

  “Sure James, we’ll give the ship a little push and it’ll work itself right o…” Clara paused. “Oh. It is a very small moon, isn’t it?”

  “Tiny.” Henry agreed thoughtfully. “But is the gravity that low?”

  “Let’s find out.” James said, hopping out of the metal shell they had chosen as their temporary shelter and bouncing on towards the station. “Look for the smallest, lightest shuttle we can find and let’s see what we can do.”

  It took them nearly an hour but in the end, they found something even better. A sleek, fast looking personal shuttle that appeared to be in flawless shape, other than the engine that someone had mostly taken apart, each pristine part glowing a soft silver in the light of the stars overhead. There was a natural hollow where the engine would sit once the repairs were complete. Although in this case, it seemed likely someone was working on modifications rather than repairs. James cast an admiring eye across the gorgeous piece of machinery in front of him. The hollow space under the engine was too good to miss, and the broken up remains of the engine formed a perfect camouflage for their activities. Once the engine was in place, the hole they would drill underneath the lunar bedrock, to hide the nuclear bomb, would be hidden completely. And by the time the shuttle got moved, no one was likely to be paying much attention to the ground beneath. Opening up the trunk, James and Henry took out the drill, surprisingly lightweight in the moon’s gravity, and got to work.

  Clara stood as lookout, trying to keep an eye on all movements in their vicinity. It was a nearly impossible task, given how crowded everything was. “Incoming.” She said suddenly, seeing movement headed in their general direction. “Maybe.” She added.

  “Almost done.” James said shortly over their private comms channel.

  Clara frowned. The blur of movement she had seen earlier, which appeared to be headed in their general direction, was becoming clearer. Two figures were walking their way. At first she thought they were wearing black but as they drew closer, she could make out the dark green tint of their spacesuits. They were wearing the green color of the Sarayan navy. Marines. With guns.

  “Armed marines, incoming. Definitely incoming.” Clara repeated.

  “Stall.” James said into her ear.

  Great, Clara thought. This was just great. Grabbing a welding gun out of their trunk, she moved towards the engine that had been so thoroughly taken apart, carefully re-positioning the largest pieces to further block visibility of what James and Henry were doing while trying to look as if she were working on the repairs herself. And in a pinch, she may be able to take out one of the marines by ramming him with the welding gun. She couldn’t take out two but then, she wasn’t alone.

  “What the hell are you doing?” A sharp, loud voice spoke into her ear. Clara started. They had done something to override her settings and the voice came through at top volume. Good thing they had that standard Sarayan equipment, she thought with a quiet snort.

  “I’m working on the engine.” She said, stating the obvious. She sounded nervous to her own ears, but then again, that seemed a perfectly reasonable response to being approached by two marines.

  “That’s Captain Shaw’s personal shuttle.” Another voice spoke with equal sharpness. The second marine.

  “I…” Clara began.

  “I’ve had it.” Henry’s voice came through suddenly, at equal volume, echoing the sentiments he heard so often in the background chatter they had been overhearing as they walked through the shipyard. “Three shifts. I’ve worked three shifts straight through and some moron tells us we need to get this fixed for some goddamn VIP and here we are, here we are actually doing it and you want to give us shit?” The edge of panicked exhaustion came through clearly in his voice. “Listen to me. If you mess with me right now, I’m walking off. I’m walking right off. You can throw me in the brig for all I care. At least that way I’ll get some goddamn sleep.

  “I don’t think you’ve spent a lot of time in the brig, friend.” The voice of the first marine came through. “It’s not a real restful kind of place.”

  “Of course I haven’t spent time in the brig!” Henry yelled. “I’m an engineer.” The outrage in his voice was perfectly pitched to channel the frustrations of a sheltered, white collar worker who lived his life following the rules, suddenly finding his sanity hanging by a thread.

  “We know it’s Captain Shaw’s shuttle.” Clara spoke up, playing the voice of reason. “We were told to make it a priority. So here we are, making it a priority.” She held out her hands innocently, seemingly forgetting the welding gun she was still holding. “What do you want from us?”

  “Damn. I didn’t even know he had that kind of pull.” The second marine said with a soft whistle.

  “This shuttle is military property and I wasn’t told of any scheduled repairs. We want to see your ID and the rec order for the job.” The first marine said firmly.

  Henry’s bitter laughter could be heard clearly through their earpieces. “I tell you what.” He said tiredly. “No need to worry about your rec orders. I’m gonna take my tools and go home. You can recalibrate the damn engine to improve speed and efficiency. I’m sure you’re more than up for it.”

  The first marine hesitated. He was acting according to regulations. These people were unknown and unverified, working on military equipment. They were a security risk and he was fully in the right to ask for verification of authorization. But doing the right thing was not always an effective defense in the Sarayan military. If Captain Shaw had indeed cut corners to get his shuttle repaired faster, and one lowly Sarayan marine got in his way because he decided to stick to regulations, his career prospects would be dire. And his future life outlook might not be so bright, either. He hesitated for a few more brief seconds, his gut telling him something wasn’t quite right. But who knew if it was something Captain Shaw had planned himself, or a real threat?

  “I want to see you all finished up within the hour, is that clear?” He said sharply.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Henry said, his voice sounding somewhat more restrained. “Thank you.”

  With a sigh, the first marine turned around and started walking away. “We were never here.” He said to his partner softly as they headed away from the shuttle.

  Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Clara focused on the engine, trying to look as if she were working on repairs in case the two marines looked back in their direction.

  It took another hour and a half of intense concentration to bring the engine into something close to working order and install it over the newly roughened surface of the lunar crust beneath.

  There wasn’t much time left if they wanted to scout ahead of their rendezvous with Tom. But James wanted this part of the mission done. One more nuke on the other side of the perimeter. He sighed silently. Time was short. “We head back out.” He said out loud. The near perimeter of the station was too active for his liking. They were bound to get stopped and questioned again if they spent too much time in the area.

  They headed back out as fast as they could go without drawing attention, all three breathing a deep sigh of relief as they reached the now comfortingly familiar skeletal remains of dilapidated old ships. It was a long hike to the other side of the station, taking the long way round. Out here in the mostly deserted outer perimeter, they could go faster. With James and Henry picking up the trunk between them, they headed out at a near run, working to reach the other side of the station with enough time to plant the second nuclear warhead.

  It still took another hour. Breathing hard, they began moving cautiously back inside the inner perimeter, noting the increasing movement as people working on ships became more common.

  “We don’t have to go all the way in this time.” James said, aware that they were short on time. “And we’re back to plan A unless we see something better.”

  About twenty minutes later, Clara stopped in front of a small shuttle, more of an escape pod really, with its belly blown out and gaping underneath the dark sky. If anyone used it to evacuate, they would not have fared well.

  “Let’s do it.” James said decisively, the mission clock ticking louder and louder in his head.

  Echoing their earlier approach, James and Henry moved in to drill the hole, using the pierced and battered hull to hide their activities. And once again, Clara stood as lookout. They were further from the station this time, and there were less people around, she saw with relief.

  It was another thirty minutes before James and Henry lowered the second nuke into its newly created stone enclosure. This time, they were able to use an old crater as part of the hole, piling stray rocks back in to limit visibility. Tossing in the last of the rocks he could find in the area, James motioned for his team to start moving the shuttle. Their first attempt failed entirely, the shuttle didn’t move an inch.

  “Maybe we can make a groove for it to slide in.” Clara said hesitantly.

  They tried, with limited success. The compact shuttle moved a few precious inches before stalling.

  James took a breath. “I say we just push harder.” He said. “Haven’t got the time for much else.”

  Clara was no longer the lookout as they all leaned in, straining. The shuttle was finally moving when it started to tip slightly. “Let it tip.” James shouted. As long as the damn thing covered the hole, he didn’t care if it ended up on its side. The shuttle tipped further as they pushed. James stepped away just in time, as it continued to tip over in his direction. He nearly breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the icy bite of vacuum against his left arm. The jagged edge of the metal hull had sliced through his low quality spacesuit.

  “Left arm’s been pierced.” He said immediately. Time was of the essence. He headed towards the trunk, which included emergency patches, but both Clara and Henry got there first. Henry grabbed his arm, holding it steady while Clara unsealed the patch and slapped it on, letting the adhesive do its work. They all stared at each other, one inscrutable dark helmet to another as their ragged breathing echoed over the short range comms.

  “James? How bad is it?”

  Clara’s voice echoed slightly in his head. James took another breath, testing his ability to raise his arm and curl his fingers. “I’m fine.” He said shortly. “We need to keep moving.”

  Clara and Henry took the trunk this time, and uncharacteristically, James didn’t argue. It wasn’t exactly pain, but his arm didn’t feel right. He knew he had some degree of frost bite. He would need to get out of the spacesuit to see how bad it was.

  The shipyard was enormous, spreading out in a wide circle that went on for several miles beyond the station perimeter. Far off in the distance, James could still see an occasional spark as repairs were being made on the more high priority items but even with time being short, they took the long way around, avoiding people. Nearly another hour lost, they were only slightly early for their meeting with Tom. “Let’s slow down.” James said softly, scanning their surroundings with greater attention.

  “Incoming.” Henry said, seeing the movement first, from his spot in the front.

  James and Clara paused, both looking up to see movement in the general direction of where they were supposed to meet Tom.

  “We’re out of full visual range.” Henry said. “No way to know if it’s Tom or not. If it’s him, he’s earlier than we are.”

  “He was working on completing the repairs when we got here last time.” James said, equally softly. “He may be early. Let’s split up and keep watching.”

  Henry nodded. If there was an ambush, splitting up would maximize the chances one of them got home alive. They moved in a wide circle around their agreed upon meeting place.

  “I see some movement but doesn’t look like it’s enough for a large ambush.” Henry said as he moved closer. Using the lower gravity to his advantage, he jumped to the top of a wrecked passenger shuttle. The view was better from the top, but still partially obstructed.

  “I’ll go in.” James said. “If you don’t hear from me in ten minutes, get on the shuttle and get the hell out. That’s an order.”

  “Yes, captain.” Henry said, his tone grim.

  “I hate this mission.” Clara said.

  Briefly adding another layer of moondust to his space suit, James began by going deeper inside the shipyard. If the Sarayans were waiting, they would expect them to come from the outside, and may not be looking as closely towards the interior. Moving from one looming wreck of a ship to the next, with no one to watch his back, he had to silently agree with Clara. As he finally approached the agreed upon meeting spot, he observed movement but still wasn’t able to make out exactly what was happening. As Henry had described, it didn’t seem like enough to be a full ambush but it looked like more than one person. James tried adjusting the visibility on his standard issue Sarayan equipment but it barely helped. Slowing down, he moved in closer yet. There were two people working on the ship. James stood watching for another several minutes, but all he saw was two people working on ship repairs.

  Activating their private comms channel, the one that excluded Tom, James confirmed. “Two people, so far both working on repairs. Standby.” He breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The fact that they were working on repairs was a good sign. The Sarayans might send a few people ahead for an ambush, but they weren’t likely to be doing ship repairs while they waited for backup. He settled in to wait. Fifteen minutes later, the two space suit clad figures were still working on repairing the battle cruiser. The larger figure, whom he now recognized as Tom, was glancing around periodically. Slowly, James began moving closer, circling slightly to position himself in front of Tom and directly behind the second, unknown figure.

  “can finish up here and meet you back at the station.” Tom’s somewhat tense voice echoed suddenly in his helmet. Twitching slightly at the unexpected sound, James moved further behind a dilapidated gun turret that may have once upon a time graced a battle cruiser. Realizing he would be within hearing range, Tom had turned on their private short distance comms channel, allowing James to overhear his conversation.

  “I can stay and help you finish up.” A cheerful female voice came through, passed on via the same channel. “It’s no trouble, Tom. I’d be happy to.”

  James shook his head, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders. “I don’t think it’s an ambush.” He said to Clara and Henry. “I’m going in. Move in unless you see additional signs of danger.” Mirroring Tom, he opened a one way channel, allowing Henry and Clara to hear him as he moved in.

  “Hey there.” James spoke easily, noting the way the woman started at the sound of his voice on an unencrypted channel. She spun around, finally seeing him coming up directly behind her, easily within Tom’s line of sight. “Maybe I can help you both out.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “We don’t need any help.” The woman’s voice came through sharply. “This is a private repair job.”

  “But you haven’t seen the kind of help I have to offer yet.” James said cheerfully.

  The woman drew an audible breath, ready to refute his offer but paused at the last minute. There was no way to see the man behind the helmet but there was something about that voice… “My name’s Stacy.” She said, her tone warming slightly.

  “My name’s James. James Townsend. I’m an old friend of Tom’s.” James added.

  “Friend might be overstating it.” Tom said, a note of bemusement softening his words.

  “You pretty close to wrapping up here, Tom?” James asked, trusting Tom to understand the double meaning behind his words.

  “I’m just about ready.” Tom said.

  James nodded, smiling slightly underneath his helmet. “Thrilled to meet you, Stacy. I can’t wait for the two of us to get to know each other even…

  “James.” A sharp voice interrupted him.

  “What the…” Stacy turned her helmeted head to see two more figures approaching them. “Just how much of a priority is this battlecruiser?” She asked. “And who the hell are you?”

  “I’m Clara Townsend.” Clara said pointedly.

  “You the sister?” Stacy asked,

  “I’m the wife.” Clara snapped.

  “And you?” Stacy nodded towards Henry.

  “I’m the brother.” Henry said cheerfully.

  “Well don’t I feel like I’m suddenly crashing a family reunion?” Stacy said sarcastically. “Tom, maybe we should give your not quite friends some space and head on back?”

  “I’d love to Stacy, but they keep tagging along.” Tom shrugged. “They’re friends of the family, new to the station. Barely know how to handle the lower gravity and their own gear.”

  “Hmm.” Stacy said noncommittally. She had seen the way the first one moved in his space suit and he seemed to be adjusting to his gear and lower gravity just fine. But then, here on Saraya’s moon, it wasn’t the done thing to ask too many questions. Especially not now, with all of them so desperately shorthanded and with everything that was going on back home. “Well then.” She turned to Clara. “Let’s see what you can do to get this mess fixed up.”

  Clara stepped up with a brief nod, getting to work. Between the five of them, the work progressed with amazing speed. By the time the faintest trace of light appeared over the horizon, they had finished most of the menial repairs on the engine and moved on to the fried control panel, Clara making surprisingly fast work of redoing the wiring.

  “Should we head in?” Stacy suggested.

  Tom looked up to see James give the slightest shake of his head, and nodded in return. Both men agreed that going in at the very last minute would be the right time, when everyone would be crowding in and the cops were eager to finish their shift.

  “We’re gonna need additional parts to finish the job. But we can make more progress today before we head in.” Tom said, making a mental list of what they would need before the ship was ready for the next phase. They were supposed to be doing the low level, menial work and the Tundrans were being a bit more enthusiastic than they should with their repairs. Skilled mechanics would be better known by station personnel. The best way to avoid notice was to be interchangeable and beneath notice. Tom hoped the Tundrans would remember that. They were all too damn competent for their own good, and that kind of competence was bound to get them noticed.

  “Isn’t that what’s in the trunk?” Stacy nodded towards the large trunk James left behind when he jumped up to help with the engine repairs. “Has to be something we can use in there.”

  “It’s for a different job.” James spoke up.

  “Then why’d you bring it all the way out here? That thing’s huge.”

  “Our tools are here too.” Clara said with a slight shrug, looking up from her work.

  “Hmm.” Stacy said noncommittally. “You sure are good with the wiring. You ever think about taking the first level electrical engineering exam? You’re being wasted on menial repairs.”

  Clara froze, looking over at James.

  “Maybe you should.” James said easily, his voice calmly reassuring. “Looks and brains, right darling?”

  “That’s me.” Clara nodded, refocusing on her work and keeping her mouth firmly shut. She had been a cop, dammit. That didn’t mean she was good at sneaking around and lying to people. She had never done undercover work. And her expertise as an interrogator was not translating particularly well. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that James picked her for this mission. James didn’t make mistakes. There was a reason.

  “We really should head in.” Stacy said again, glancing at the ever brightening horizon. “I don’t need the radiation exposure.”

  Tom nodded with some reluctance. “Let me pack up some things.” He said, nodding at his own, far smaller trunk of tools. He was moving intentionally slowly, hoping to delay their entry to the very end of the shift. Stacy’s words suddenly echoed in his mind. The Tundran’s trunk was huge. It wasn’t unheard of to bring spare parts but it was a large enough size that it was bound to get noticed. Combined with invalid IDs… “Stacy’s right.” He said out loud. “That thing is huge. Let me be the one to take it through. It’ll be faster with someone they know.”

  Silent behind her helmet, Clara swallowed hard, her heart beating in her chest. How had they not foreseen the risk of that huge trunk? Three strangers walking in with an unusually large container were bound to get noticed by security. She should have spotted that. The whole thing felt… rushed. “I think Tom’s right.” She spoke up before James could jump in.

  After a brief hesitation, James’s helmeted head nodded in her direction. “All right.” He said. “Thanks Tom, we appreciate it. Last thing anyone wants is to get delayed at the security checkpoint. We have ships to fix.”

  “And drinks to buy after work.” Stacy said cheerfully. “And at the moment, we also have radiation poisoning to avoid.” She added, leading the way back towards the station.

  Clara took Tom’s trunk, letting him pick up the Tundran’s larger container, and followed. They were better off walking in with two people known to security personnel. And she had a feeling Stacy was friendly enough to be remembered, hopefully fondly.

  They made it just before the full power of the sun’s light hit them, standing within the still airless airlock with a crowd of other people clad in spacesuits. Clara blinked as suddenly she came within range of dozens of. short range comm channels, everyone speaking at once, mostly complaining about the wait. In her head, she had imagined an orderly line, a few people at a time. An opportunity to quietly take out a cop and everyone in the vicinity before making a frantic run back to the shuttle, if it all went wrong. The reality was laughably different. The crowd of repair crew members was standing inside an airlock, practically on top of each other in the low grav environment. Clara heard the sound of her own breathing in her ears and tried to focus on breathing in the overly crowded, airless space. James and Henry stood to either side of her, providing a most likely false sense of comfort. The din continued, with minimal forward momentum.

  It took them nearly an hour to get within viewing distance of the security checkpoint. The chatter on unsecured, short distance comms channels had grown increasing angry and bitter. People got paid for the time they put in working on repairs. No one got paid for waiting in line to get back inside the station. The hourlong wait was coming straight out of everyone’s precious down time and frustrations were running high. They had finally made it inside the oxygenated second chamber on the way into the space station and removed their helmets. Clara could now see the face of the cop manning the security checkpoint. She suspected there should have been two or more people but there was only one man, looking increasingly frustrated and annoyed. She watched carefully and noted that he was scanning most IDs as people went past.

  It was Henry who spoke up first, keeping his voice soft enough to be out of the cop’s hearing range but perfectly pitched for those in their immediate vicinity. “If that cop weren’t scanning IDs, we’d all be at the bar having a drink.” He said. “We’re all working double, triple shifts just to meet our quotas. I need to get some goddamn sleep. Let us through! Let. Us. Through. Let us through!” He smiled slightly as the chant got picked up by others in the vicinity, spreading like wildfire across the cramped, crowded space as the exhausted, hungry, and oxygen deprived crowd channeled their frustration into those words.

  “Let us through!”

  “Shut up.” The cop shouted. “Shut up shut up shut up! Shut it or I swear to god I’ll have the damn lot of you arrested.

  It was an empty threat and everyone in the cramped, oxygen deprived room knew it. The station was brutally shorthanded, as were the cops. No one had the resources to keep people in the brig.

  Clara sighed. The cop was cornered now. If he gave in, the crowd won. And you never, ever let the crowd win. Every cop in the universe knew that. With inevitable predictability, the cop doubled down. His gun was unholstered now, pointing directly at the next person in line. “Scan your goddamn ID” the cop snapped “or you’ll be spending the night right here, passed out on the floor. I just hope everyone bothers to step over, but it’s a rough crowd out there. No guarantees.”

  Glumly, the unfortunate woman who was next in line used the scanner on her own ID and showed the cop the result, his hands now fully occupied by the gun.

  Clara noted the tense line of James’s shoulders and realized there was a good chance they were all about to see some fireworks. With an audible groan of exasperation, she started shoving her way up to the front of the line. “Excuse me. Let me through. Just let me through dammit, I promise you won’t regret it.” She elbowed a large, angry looking man sharply in his stomach, causing him to double over.

  The cop watched somewhat glumly as she continued making her way up to the front of the line. “That was an impressive hit, I’ll give you that.” He noted. “You wanna tell me why you’ve decided to hold up the line?”

  “How about we get a nice drink?” Clara said cheerfully, blue eyes sparkling. “On me.”

  There was a tense pause as the exhausted people in the room held their collective breath, waiting to see what would happen next. The cop looked Clara up and down slowly, noticeably playing to the crowd. The bulky space suit wasn’t conducive to showing off anyone’s curves but the combination of Clara’s height, confident blue eyes and short blond hair clearly hit all the right notes. The gun barrel lowered slightly.

  “Well now. I do admire a lady who knows how to throw a punch.”

  Clara’s smile went an astonishing notch brighter as she leaned forward. “That’s not all I can do.” She said.

  The cop held on for one more long moment, playing to the crowd and making it clear he was in control. Clara let him. She already knew she won.

  “The bar on twelfth in twenty?” The cop asked finally.

  “You got it.” Clara agreed with a more sedate smile. “My name’s Clara.” She removed the gloves of her space suit and held our her hand. “Nice to meet you” she looked down at his name tag “Eric.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Clara.” Eric responded with a grin of his own, finally allowing some of the relief to show in his eyes. “All right people.” He turned back to the crowd. “You can go on through. And next time, try getting here earlier, eh?”

  Securely inside the station, Clara waited patiently for the rest of the team to arrive. Tom’s grin as he walked towards her was enough to light up a room. He said nothing, just slapped her on the back as he led the way towards crew quarters. “You’ll have to show me around, Tom.” Clara said as she followed him. “I’ve only got twenty minutes to freshen up.”

  “You got it, lady.” Tom said with a sketchy salute in her general direction. He paused as his gaze moved on to James. “You look different.” Tom said, noticing the altered shape of the other man’s face.

  “Life changes people.” James said with a slight smile, his eyes sliding pointedly in Stacy’s direction. Stacy was still with them, apparently choosing to continue following Tom.

  “You’re my new hero, Clara.” Stacy said with a broad grin. “You ever need anything at all, you just ask girl.”

  In contrast, James looked far less amused as he turned towards Clara. “He doesn’t just want a drink.” James said tightly.

  “Nooooo.” Clara said sarcastically, blue eyes opened wide. “I never would have guessed.”

  “What do you want us to do?”

  “The job.” Clara said simply. “We do the job.” She met James’s eyes head on, knowing he would understand what she meant.

  “Clara.” James began before pausing, unsure what to say next. He knew Clara was asking him to leave her alone, without backup. To handle this however she wanted to handle it. And she was right. It was the right thing to do. For the mission. The mission took precedence. Completing the mission was how they all went home, alive. He swallowed, ignoring the slight feeling of nausea in his stomach. “If you’re not feeling any fireworks, remember we brought some with us.” He said instead, very much aware of Stacy’s presence, standing next to Tom. “Tom, will you and Stacy show Clara the way to the bar?” James said reluctantly.

  “You got it.” Tom slapped him on the back in reassurance.

  Stacy looked from Clara to James with a slightly puzzled look on her face. Everyone’s marriage was different, but this James guy didn’t seem like to sort to be so tolerant. She shrugged, focusing on Tom. James was none of her business and there was enough there to keep her from even trying to get involved.

  The crew headquarters consisted of narrow hallways lined with sleeping pods, stacked three high along each wall. Noting the height of the pods, James suspected that the hallways were initially intended to contain stacks of two pods on each side, and the third level had been squeezed in to manage space shortages. Payment for each pod was made ahead of time, by the hour. A glowing red light indicated which pods were prepaid and occupied. Some paid several days ahead and returned to the same pod, leaving them empty while they worked. Others were more cost conscious, taking their equipment with them or leaving it in a lower priced locker and paying only for the time they planned to sleep.

  The hallways were crowded, teeming with the sounds of voices, snoring, and music. Makeshift conversation groups had been set up along the way, with people sitting on cushions and suitcases, playing cards or watching movies together on the small screens of someone’s pc. While there was some laughter and drunken cheer, there was an underlying feeling of tension in the air. Everyone seemed exhausted, everyone was on edge. The station was clearly operating far above capacity and it was discernible in the crowded hallways, the lowered air quality, the gaunt, hungry looks on the faces of some of the personnel. It took them a while to find four pods that were relatively adjacent. James could easily see that a grown adult and the oversized trunk would not fit together inside a single pod. The damn thing really was too big.

  “I say we book these for a few days before they get filled up.” Tom suggested, knowing they were fortunate to find the spare pods this close together. “Stacy I’m sorry we can’t find something closer for you, will you be all right?”

  Stacy nodded with a shrug, somewhat disappointed Tom hadn’t chosen to tag along with her but accepting that there wasn’t much she could do about it.

  “Meet you at the bar on twelfth in ten?” Tom called out after her.

  Stacy nodded with another shrug, feeling somewhat less enthusiastic.

  Clara set her duffel down on the lower sleeping pod and glanced around. She noted on her way in that the bathroom and bathing facilities were available at intervals of five rows of pods on each side. Women’s facilities on the right and men’s on the left. “I’m going to go wash up.” She said.

  James looked like he was about to say something but once again, in the end remained silent. He was carrying the large trunk but uncertain of where to leave it. In the end, he sat it down inside one of the four spare pods. It’s not as if they were planning to get much sleep.

  “You could leave it in the paid lockers.” Tom said with a nod towards the trunk.

  “We have some work to do before we go to sleep.” James said, watching Clara’s retreating back as she walked towards the bathing facilities.

  “You need any help?” Tom asked.

  “No thanks, you go on and get that drink.” James said, his eyes still on Clara’s retreating back.

  ---

  Clara looked around the bathroom, trying to mask the look of distaste on her face. It wasn’t clean. The smell of human waste and unwashed bodies wafted strongly in the air. After using the facilities, she walked up to the hand washing station, only to discover that there was no water at all. The faucets dispensed some sort of gel-like substance, smelling strongly of disinfectant. Hesitantly, she smeared it on her hands and then, when no especially negative reaction occurred, on her face. Her hair hadn’t been washed in three days but there wasn’t much she could do about that. She stared at herself in the small, dirty mirror above the slime dispensing faucet. Clara was, technically, a virgin. You’d have to get very technical about it. But there it was.

  She vaguely recalled the words of inspiration James gifted them earlier that week. Thousands of their own had died to accomplish less than what the three of them would achieve on this mission alone. Everything else paled in comparison. A woman behind her cleared her throat, obviously waiting impatiently to use the faucet. Space was limited and the facilities were crowded. Clara pressed the faucet again, watching glumly as another glob of clear gel fell into her hands. She smeared it on her face and neck, took a deep breath, and headed back out.

  Tom and Stacy were waiting for her, seemingly refreshed and unperturbed by the unsanitary, slime dispensing bathroom facilities. Clara nodded. “Lead the way.” She said, noting that Tom was watching her with a shadow of the same worried expression James had on his face earlier. She ignored him.

  It was a surprisingly long walk to the bar “on twelfth”, which turned out to be the twelfth corridor from the station entrance they used earlier. Every hallway was crowded and teeming with people, including the noises, smells, and tension that came from large crowds packed in an overly small space. Clara breathed deeply, trying to convince herself that the lack of oxygen she was experiencing was all in her head. Perhaps some of it was. But with so many people in such tight quarters, she would not be surprised if life support systems were struggling to keep up. And it was hot. Chilled from her less than perfectly insulated space suit, she hadn’t noticed it as much until now but as her body temperature adjusted, the unaccustomed heat was adding to the feeling of suffocation.

  The bar was more of the same. Crowded tables filled with people, each table clearly surrounded by more chairs than it was ever meant to support. As she surveyed a room full of strangers, each a varying degree of angry, tired, and drunk, Clara was relieved to have Tom and Stacy at her back. And then there was Eric, waiving to her from across the room.

  Tom put a hand on her shoulder. “If you need an out, look our way.” He said simply. “Stacy and I will think of something.”

  Clara nodded with a start, grateful for the offer. She wasn’t a POW, after all. She was, as far as anyone knew, a free and law abiding citizen of Saraya. It’s not like she owed him anything. Unless he asked to scan her ID. Then she was completely fucked.

  With a bright smile, she made her way towards Eric’s table, which was at least blissfully free of other people. The badge kept others at a distance. It always did. Feelingly oddly comforted, Clara sat across from him. He wasn’t actually a bad looking guy, if you looked past the exhaustion and the slightly greasy hair that was the hallmark of everyone on the station. His smooth tanned skin and warm brown eyes were not entirely unappealing. And he eyed her with open appreciation which, had he not been a man… Clara’s smile faltered slightly. “Rough day?” She asked.

  “Would have been rougher if it weren’t for you.” Eric admitted.

  “I owe you a drink.” Clara said

  “On me.” Eric said with a grin, making a small gesture with his hand. The waiter was there in an instant. Cops were good friends to have. “What’ll you have?” He asked.

  “Uh. Whatever you’re having.”

  A few minutes later, she was sipping a surprisingly adequate beer, the taste of the beer effectively masking the taste Sarayan filters imparted on the liquid passing through.

  “It’s been crazy.” Eric admitted. “The Tundrans have been stirring things up. More so than usual. Makes you wonder what they have planned.” He winced slightly, taking a sip of his beer. “Glad you’re here and all, but I’d be looking to get back home if I had the option.”

  “You think they might attack the station?” Clara asked, taking another sip of her beer.

  “Why else would they be so active?” Eric asked grimly. He gave a self deprecating shrug, softening his next words. “We’ll be lucky to make it through the night.” He said, reaching his hand out and placing it somewhat possessively over hers.

  Clara started at the touch, not quite able to still her natural instincts.

  “Are you all right?” He asked, seemingly genuinely concerned.

  “Sorry I…” Clara paused. “It’s been a while.” She admitted.

  “Have another beer.” Eric suggested. And just like that, another beer appeared at her elbow. With barely a hesitation, Clara drank the beer. It could only help. “Why do you think they do it?” She asked, suddenly genuinely curious to hear what he would say.

  “Attack us?” Eric shrugged. “Tundran war mongering scum, right?”

  “Sure.” Clara agreed, raising an eyebrow slightly. “What better explanation could there be?”

  “You’re a funny one, Clara.” Eric said, studying her closely. “How’d you know to step up when you did?”

  Clara blinked. One and a half beers in, the truth came a bit easier than it should have. “You can’t let the crowd win.” She said, with barely a thought. “The badge only works as long as people believe in it.”

  “That sounds like cop talk.” Eric said, looking at her curiously.

  “My dad was a cop.” Clara said, looking down at her beer.

  “Which precinct?” Eric asked immediately.

  Clara sighed. Of course, he would ask that. “None of your damn business.” She said.

  “Just how much trouble are you in, Clara?” Eric asked, his sharp brown eyes studying her closely.

  So. It had not escaped his notice that she distracted him from scanning everyone’s IDs. Clara nodded in resignation. Eric was a good cop. That was why he stood against a raging crowd, short of resources, exhausted, and still trying to do his job.

  “Saraya…” she paused. “Saraya can be a difficult place to live, sometimes.” She said the words carefully, feeling him out. Tom had said the cops might be sympathetic to those who got into trouble for saying the wrong thing, for asking the wrong questions. Her only hope was that Tom was right, and Eric was the right sort of cop.

  Eric rubbed the back of his head, leaning back precariously on his rickety barstool. “I guess it can be. At times. True of most places, I expect.” He said noncommittally.

  Clara thought about the movies Henry showed them. The government going after all those people, their friends, their families. Some guilty, some innocent to varying degrees. “Sometimes, it’s hard being a cop.” She said out loud. “Some of us go into it to protect people and somehow it all gets… complicated.”

  “Us?” Eric asked, raising an eyebrow of his own.

  “Them.” Clara corrected herself automatically, pushing away the second empty beer.

  “You know what you do when it gets complicated?” Eric asked.

  “What?”

  “You do the job.”

  “You do the job.” Clara echoed. A third beer suddenly appeared at her elbow. She was so thirsty. Hungry as well, but somehow it seemed less important. She drank the beer. The metal covered surfaces of the station were starting to blur slightly. She looked up blearily to see Tom coming into her view.

  Tom held out a sealed container with a thick filter on top.

  Water, Clara realized.

  “Thought you might want some of this.” Tom offered, ignoring Eric.

  Clara thought about the taste of filtered Sarayan water. Eric’s hand was still resting on hers, his warm fingers moving up her arm. “I’m good.” She said to Tom. “You and Stacy should head on back. It’s been a long day.”

  Tom hesitated once again but Clara turned away, ignoring him entirely. There was no way for him to remain without drawing further attention. She watched as Tom walked away, taking Stacy back to their overcrowded table but still keeping an eye on her. Just for a brief second, she allowed herself to scan the rest of the room, crowded with people talking, flirting, arguing and laughing. She paused with a frown. Four tables down from her and two across from Tom, James’s icy gray eyes looked back at her. The damn bastard wouldn’t even trust her to handle this on her own. Of course, she wasn’t alone. She had backup. If she needed it. But she didn’t need it. Meeting James’s eyes she shook her head slightly, before turning back to Eric.

  “Ready to go?” She asked with a smile. In the end, they all did their jobs.