Chapter 1
Pi-2350’s
implant snapped her awake at the correct time, which corresponded roughly to
Earth’s dawn. She sighed and reluctantly wriggled her hand out of the bedding
and undid the straps holding her down. Without the straps, Pi floated free in
the zero gravity environment of her tiny bunk. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes,
she did a bit of zero-g gymnastics and stripped off the previous day’s jumpsuit,
stuffing it into the laundry washer and turning the machine on. Next, she
pulled a fresh suit out of the clothes dryer and pulled it on. Freshly dressed,
Pi opened the door and climbed hand-over-hand out into the main corridor of the
mining shuttle.
“Morning,
Honeybee,” Pi-2300 said when he saw his protégée exit her bunk. Honeybee was
his pet name for her. She had no idea why he called her that and he refused to
give her a straight answer. He looked her up and down as she drifted toward him
and stifled a chuckle. “You look like hell.”
This
was a customary greeting for him; he knew she slept poorly in the shuttle. The
lack of gravity and having to sleep strapped down drove her nuts, so he tried
his best to make the situation lighter by poking fun at her. As much as she
hated to admit it, sometimes, the ribbing did
make her feel better.
Pi-2300
was the closest thing she had to a father, just as she was the closest thing he
had to a daughter. Her number had come up in the Global Lottery when she was
only two years old, according to the station’s records. The Old Man, as she
called him, since he was in his seventies when she arrived, had raised her in
the station. He taught her everything he knew about flying the mining shuttle,
prospecting asteroids and extracting their ore. His own number had come up in
2300, hence his designation. That was sixty-six years before—The Old Man was
nearing retirement age, when he’d be put on an interstellar colony ship and
blasted into space to die.
Her
own designation, Pi-2350, was a modification of his. That was the normal way
new people were named in the Belt Stations. Whenever an old timer took on a
student, the student inherited the mentor’s name, with the year of their
“draft” appended after the Greek letter.
“Morning,”
2350 said, stifling a yawn and running a hand through her hair. She preferred
to keep it long, loving the reddish-blonde color, but hated the way it floated
around her head in zero-g. So her hair was short and it stood up in clumps and
would never stay the way she wanted it. She floated through the small ship and
strapped into the passenger seat. “What rock are we looking at today?”
The
Old Man tapped the shuttle’s computer screen. “89645-32,” he said. “It’s the
last chunk of the same rock we’ve been blasting for a month now. I figure we
have one more go at what’s left, then we go back to the station and unload.”
“Thank
goodness. Maybe I’ll be able to get some sleep.”
The
Old Man smiled. “Maybe,” he said.
2350
gave him a quizzical look, but he was already booting up the shuttle’s engines.
“Let’s get this hunk of junk moving! We’re burning daylight!”
The
Old Man was full of archaic-sounding sayings, since he’d been a young man in
his twenties when his number came up. That was so long ago that he remembered a
time before the Lottery existed. She’d asked about his life before his number
came up when she was maybe five.
“My
name was Steve, back then,” he told her. “The Lottery didn’t start until 2290.
That was when the powers that be realized that tiny, old Earth just didn’t have
enough metal in her to build the big colony ships. The planet had been mined to
the bone just building the first ship. But it didn’t take long before they
turned their sights skyward. The asteroid belt was just sitting there,
potentially full of the valuable metal they needed.
“So
they scraped together enough money and material to build the first mining
station out here in the Belt. That first station was manned by volunteers who
thought they’d come out here, make some easy money and go back planet-side and
live high on the hog for the rest of their lives.
“Some
of them did, as I recall. But enough of them died up here that nobody wanted to
volunteer anymore. That was when the Global Coalition had a vote and the
Lottery started. See, Earth has been struggling with overpopulation for
centuries. The GC saw the Lottery as killing two birds with one stone.
Everybody’s number goes in the system when they turn 18, or it’s supposed to. I
guess there was a glitch in the system when your name came up, Honeybee,
because you were only a baby when they brought you up here and handed you to
me.”
“Why
did they choose you?”
“I
don’t know,” he said. “Maybe it was because I’d never taken a trainee before
and I was already up there in years. I had no experience with babies other than
playing with my sister’s kids. It’s a wonder you survived as long as you have,
Honeybee. All I know for certain is that they put you with me, and I’ve been
glad to have you.”
“Don’t
we ever get to go home?”
The
Old Man’s face had darkened at that question. “They say we can, if we can pay a
shuttle to take us. The problem is, it’s so expensive to keep us all clothed
and fed and breathing that a lot of ‘incidentals’ come out of our monthly pay.”
She’d
seen his paychecks and knew he wasn’t lying. Even though the station gave him
extra credits every week for taking care of her, the money barely covered our
living expenses.
“Are
you with me, Honeybee?” The Old Man asked, snapping her out of her memories.
The ship’s computer was waiting for her to give the all-clear to fire the
thrusters. Technically speaking, The Old Man was too old to be the pilot. 2350’s
eyesight was better and her reflexes faster, but old habits die hard, and he
almost never relinquished the pilot’s chair.
She
leaned over and pressed her palm to the screen. The computer scanned it and
popped up another window.
“Pi-2350,”
she said, waiting as the computer analyzed her voice, name and handprint. When
it was done, she tapped the screen again and said, “Fire thrusters, medium
burn.”
The
computer beeped, acknowledging the orders and The Old Man set the course for
the asteroid they were almost finished with. He engaged the autopilot and the
computer acknowledged again.
“Course
to intercept asteroid 89645-32 confirmed; time to intercept, approximately
fifteen minutes.”
“Perfect,”
The Old Man said. “Just enough time to get ready.” He reached over and ruffled 2350’s
strawberry blonde hair, messing it up even more.
She
swatted at his hand half-heartedly. “Better hurry up, old man. It wouldn’t look
good for you to be beaten by a little girl.” She unhooked her harness and
kicked off, floating back through the small shuttle to her locker. Popping it
open, she grinned over her shoulder at The Old Man and began equipping herself.
Plasma cutter, pitons, hooks, rope, all the usual equipment a mountain climber
and prospector would need, but there were a few extra tools. 2350 hooked a small
microphone over her ear, attaching the wire to her helmet, which she snapped
into place over her head. Station regulations required miners to use the radios
rather than their implants, because the radios could be monitored and the
implants couldn’t.
“Test,
test,” she said, checking the mic. “You hear me?”
“Loud
and clear, Honeybee,” he said. She turned and saw he’d suited up just as fast
as she had, despite age and arthritis slowing him down.
“All
right,” 2350 said and slammed her locker shut before maneuvering past him to
the cargo hold where their thruster suits were located. The Old Man joined her
a few minutes later, just as the computer announced into their helmets that they’d
arrived at their destination.
The
Old Man reached out and she took his hand, gripping it tight. They pushed into
the airlock together, just as they had every working day for the past 10 years.
The computer scanned their suits for any visible breaches and shut the door
behind them, preparing to jettison the pair into space.
There
was a sharp hiss as the atmosphere was released, then the outer door opened, revealing
their target. The asteroid they were there to finish salvaging floated in front
of them, the ship’s running lights glinting off the precious ore that remained
in the small rock. They fired their thrusters and drifted out to it, the spikes
on their boots pointed outward, ready to make purchase in the tough rock. As
soon as she hit, 2350 drove her climbing axe into the rock and hung on until
what was left of her momentum was gone. Once she was stable enough, she
hammered in an anchor and hooked her suit to it, securing herself.
“You
ok, Old Man?” 2350 asked into her radio.
“I’m
all fastened down. You ready?”
“Rodger,”
she said and linked the chip implanted beneath her scalp to the ship’s exterior
computer. The chip was a life saver: a combination computer, cell phone and
life line, it interfaced with several other implants required by the station.
Once the connection to the ship’s exterior computer, she told it to extend the
collection arm, which was nothing more than a large bucket that they would
throw chunks of asteroid into as they cut it off.
The
pair got to work, using our plasma torches, hammers and axes to break up the
rock into smaller chunks and feeding them back into the ship. They worked in
companionable silence, only stopping after hacking at the rock for around four
hours. They retreated into the ship and “ate” a meal. The meals away from the
station consisted of a nutritional shake that tasted like liquid chalk. It was
high in essential nutrients and protein, sure, and was enough to satisfy the
body’s needs, but it always left her feeling empty and a little let down.
The
two resumed work after their ten minute lunch break and made quick work of what
was left of the asteroid. 2350 gave the computer the order to retract the
collector arm while The Old Man gazed off in the direction of Earth.
“Old
Man, come on. It’s time to get back,” she said into her radio and waving at
him.
“Switch
over to channel five, Honeybee,” he said.
Oh shit, what did I do? She
thought. Channel five was code to switch off her radio and use her implant.
Most of the time it meant that she’d fucked up something, and was about to be
reprimanded. Her heart beating a mile a minute, she switched the radio off and
gave him the signal that she had.
“Listen,
Honeybee, and don’t interrupt me. I got a lot to say and I don’t have much time
to say it. You been good to me over the years and you’ve turned into one of the
best damned miners I’ve seen our station produce. But I’ve found some things
out in the past few weeks that make what they’ve done unconscionable. I can’t
go on like this. We’ve both been lied to about your situation your whole life
and I’m not letting it happen anymore.”
“Pi,”
she said, interrupting him despite his warning not to.
“No.
Just listen to me.” There was an audible sigh over the radio. “I got my
retirement message this morning. They’re putting me on a ship as soon as we get
back. I’m supposed to go and die in transit to a planet I’ll never know. When
you go back to the station, I want you to open up the locker in my room before
you do anything else. I don’t want them cleaning it out before you get what I
left for you there.”
He
paused. He hadn’t looked at her since they’d finished working on the rock. He’d
kept his eyes focused toward Earth. Both of them knew its relative position,
despite being unable to see it. Finally,
he fired his jets and turned to face her. “You take care, Honeybee. I wish I’d
gotten to know you under better circumstances, but that’s the way things are.
I’ll miss you. You’re Pi now, no more 2300 and 2350.”
Before
she could react, he flipped a switch on his suit, removing the safety measures
on the rockets. He fired the jets, propelling himself away from her, toward
Earth. The speed he achieved was amazing; with the safeties off, the rig was
theoretically capable of hitting over seven G’s.
“Pi!”
She shrieked after him and fired her own thrusters to follow him, hoping to
grab his tether.
“You
stop right there, young lady,” he said, the commanding tone he’d used when she
was growing up stopping her in her tracks. She watched his retreating form and
saw that his tether was gone. Doing some quick math made her realize that she
would have to remove the safeties from her own rig to catch up to him and grab
him. She knew she couldn’t do it, not without burning through most of her fuel.
“Good-bye,
Honeybee,” he said as the radio signal grew faint. “Remember what I said. Open
my locker before you do anything else. Now get back on the shuttle and get
going.”
She
faintly saw the flare of his jets as he accelerated away. “Good-bye,” she said,
her voice catching and cracking. Tears tracked down her cheeks and she reached
up to brush them away but failed because of her helmet. She watched, crying,
until she could no longer see his form against any of the surrounding celestial
bodies. After saying another silent good-bye, she turned away from the man
who’d been her father in every way except blood and re-entered her ship.
Chapter 2
Pi
tried to tell the shuttle to go back to Station 70312-Alpha using her implant,
but too many other thoughts chased each other through her mind for the computer
to get a fix on what she wanted. So instead, she stripped off her mining
equipment, stowing it all back in her locker before floating to the cockpit and
inputting the return order manually. The shuttle was programmed to make the
trip automatically, and Pi was grateful, because she spent the entire two hours
curled up in the pilot’s chair, sobbing. She’d always had the suspicion that
The Old Man wanted to go out on his own terms and in his own way, rather than
taking the “retirement” package given him by the station. But she never
expected him to go like that.
By
the time the autopilot clicked off, Pi felt like she was all cried out, for the
moment at least. The computer beeped, asking for her clearance to dock. Dashing
the last of the tears from her eyes, she put in her code and flew the shuttle
into the bay. She landed without hesitation, making it look effortless to the
crew of trainees who were watching from nearby. By the time the ship’s engines
powered down and the unloading ramp descended, a cold fury had enveloped her. She
didn’t know who she was furious at, but Pi knew she needed to get to her
apartment as quick as possible. She needed to know the reasons behind The Old Man’s
cryptic final speech, and knew the answers were in his locker.
“Hey,
Pi,” one of the dock hands called. “Where’s your old man?” The dock hand’s
designation was almost the same as Pi’s, save the Greek letter: Delta-2350. She’d
fallen victim to the same glitch that had stuck Pi on the station. They were
the same age and best friends, but right now Pi didn’t have time for
distractions.
“Sorry,
Delta, I can’t talk,” she said, almost running past her. “I need to do
something.”
Delta
nodded, and watched her friend run off, trying not to feel brushed off.
Pi
pelted through the station, still wobbly in the station’s gravity after being
in zero-g for a month. She avoided people whenever she could and muttered
excuses to those she couldn’t. Finally, she made it to her apartment and locked
the door behind her. The small space that she’d shared with The Old Man for all
of her life felt empty without his presence. All of the furnishings that made
it homey were his, most of them older than she was. Tears welled up in Pi’s
eyes again, but she took a deep breath and willed them back.
The
apartment was empty-- the station Overseers hadn’t caught wind of The Old Man’s
death yet, so they hadn’t sent in the clean up team. Pi would be able to take
whatever she wanted from the apartment this way. If she’d radioed ahead, like protocol
dictated, all of The Old Man’s possessions would have been confiscated and
either destroyed or sold off. Pi would be forced to move to a single bedroom
apartment so that a new mentor and trainee pair could be given the two bedroom
unit.
Pi
went to The Old Man’s bedroom and stood in the doorway for a moment. She’d
rarely gone into his room, knowing that he valued his privacy just as much as she
did, but she knew what it looked like. It was the same as hers: utilitarian at
best. There was no furniture besides a bed, a dresser full of extra jump suits,
a desk and the locker for personal items. A small framed picture of Pi and The
Old Man, taken as they boarded their shuttle for her first job ten years before,
sat on top of the desk. She smiled when she saw it; the same picture sat on her
own desk.
Shaking
herself from the fond memories that were threatening to make tears pour from her
eyes again, Pi turned to The Old Man’s locker. He’d given her the code ages ago
in case of emergencies, but she’d never had to use it before. With a trembling
hand, she reached out and punched in the locker’s code. The lock opened with a
soft electronic buzz and she was able to push the door back. Inside was a
briefcase, a gym bag and a small tablet computer.
Pi
frowned. There was no way The Old Man could have afforded a tablet like this on
his pay, even counting the bonuses the station gave for production. Curious, she
pressed the power button and swiped a finger across the screen to wake it up.
“Hey,
Honeybee,” the tablet said in The Old Man’s voice.
She
smiled. “Hi, Daddy,” she whispered. She hadn’t called him that since she was a
toddler. He’d corrected her, but years later, he admitted that he liked the
idea of having a daughter.
The
tablet booted, revealing a single file, named “Play Me”. Pi tapped it and sat
down on the bed while it loaded.
The
Old Man appeared on the screen. At first it was a close up of his face and she
got a good look up his nose until he set the tablet down and took a few steps
back.
“Honeybee,”
he said. “I’m not going to mince words. If you’re watching this, then I carried
out my plan to go to my own kind of retirement, instead of dying in deep space
like these bastards want. I probably said some things you don’t understand
before I did, so I’m making this video to explain.
“You
always wondered why I call you Honeybee,” he began. “It’s not a term of
endearment, although I do care a hell of a lot about you, little girl. I call
you Honeybee because it’s as close to the name your parents gave you as I can
get without making the overseers curious.
“Your
birth name is Melissa,” he said. “I learned a long time ago that that name is
from the Greek word for honeybee, so that’s what I been calling you all these
years.”
“But
how do you know my name?” Pi wondered aloud while The Old Man took a drink from
an off-screen glass.
“Not
everybody in the Belt Stations is here because of the Lottery, Honeybee,” he
continued, as if answering her question. “Some of us were criminals, sentenced
here for anything from theft to murder. I was one of those.”
He
took a moment to gather his thoughts, head down, before his face snapped back
to the camera. “I wasn’t a murderer or anything,” he clarified. “I was a
document forger. I still have a lot of my contacts from those days and when you
came to the station as a baby, I knew something was wrong. I did as much
digging as I could from here, which isn’t much. All I managed to get a hold of
was your birth name. I was able to
get a message to an old friend of mine who looked into things for me. Some
money exchanged hands, along with a sample of your DNA. A few months ago, he
came to see me, and he brought a packet of information about you, which you’ll
find in the briefcase in the locker with this tablet.
“Inside
the gym bag is my final gift to you, Honeybee. I want you to be happy and I
don’t think you can do that here. You were the closest thing to a daughter this
old man ever had, and I love you for every moment we spent together. Take
care.”
He
stepped towards the tablet again, kneeling down so his face was centered in the
frame. He wiped his eyes. “Take care, Honeybee,” he said, then reached for the
tablet and stopped the video.
Pi
sniffled and set the tablet aside and grabbed the gym bag. It was light, but she
could tell it wasn’t empty. Unzipping the main compartment, she found a set of
clothes: jeans, a long sleeved pink shirt with a plaid pattern on it, socks,
underwear, and sneakers. Pi frowned. Why would 2300’s final gift be clothes,
especially clothes that she couldn’t use on the station except in her few
precious hours a week of off-time? She shuffled through the bag’s other pockets
looking for an answer and found something else: a credit stick.
All
currency under Global Coalition control was electronic. They found out early on
that paper currency was too easy to fabricate, so Earth, all the colonies and
the Belt Stations used Global Credits, rather than actual currency. Pi had no
idea how much was on the credit stick, but she couldn’t help but hope that it
would be enough to decorate her new apartment. She held the stick in her hand
and focused on it, scanning it with her implant and waiting as it read the
stick.
Once
it was done, the implant in her ear beeped and she closed her eyes as the information
was drawn directly onto her retina. Pi’s breath caught in her throat when she
saw the readout: 3,700,000 credits. That was more than enough to decorate her
new apartment: that was enough to book passage away from the station, to set her
up for life on Earth or maybe one of the colonies on Luna. Breathless, Pi
muttered, “Transfer,” and a few seconds later she heard another chime as her
bank account informed her that a deposit had been made. Now she understood what
the clothes were for.
Quickly,
Pi stripped off her jumpsuit and dressed in the civilian clothes. They felt
strange and a heavy compared to the light, breathable jumpsuit she’d been
wearing for as long as she could remember. Pi went through the apartment and
took everything she couldn’t live without, which turned out to be a small and
rather depressing number of items. She took the printed photo of her and The
Old Man from her desk, her e-book reader, loaded mostly with technical manuals,
but also a few books that she kept for pleasure. She also took a small, ragged
stuffed animal. The Old Man said it had been with her when she arrived at the
station, 16 years ago. It might have been a bear then, maybe a koala, but it
was colorless now, nearly bald and shapeless from many years of small girl
cuddles. Even at sixteen, she had trouble sleeping without it.
With
her few meager possessions stuffed in the gym bag, Pi collected the unopened
briefcase and left the apartment, locking the door with her thumb.
“Pi,
what’s up? Are you okay?”
It
was Delta-2350 and her mentor. Pi couldn’t remember the elder Delta’s number,
but it didn’t matter to her anymore, either.
Pi
ran a hand through her hair, a little frustrated at being confronted by someone
right outside her door. She’d been hoping to make a quick and quiet escape.
“I’m
fine,” she said.
“Where’s
your old man?”
“Gone,”
Pi said. Reluctantly, she explained about The Old Man’s departure. She found
that she still couldn’t bear thinking of him as dead.
“Wow,
that’s messed up, I’m so sorry,” Delta said. She hugged her friend briefly and Pi
found herself grateful for her warm touch.
“Have
you told the overseers yet?” Elder Delta asked when his protégée released Pi.
“No,”
Pi said, turning to leave. “I was going to do that right now, before I leave.”
“Hey,
where you going?” Delta asked, frantic. “What’s with the get-up?”
“I’m
leaving,” Pi said.
Delta
looked at her, stunned. Tears sprang into her eyes.
“Without
me? But we’re friends,” she said softly.
Pi
stopped and pulled up her bank account again. Over three million credits, she thought, should get us both out of here.
Pi
took a deep breath. “Come on, Del,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”
Delta
took a step back, bumping into her mentor. “Really? You can afford that?”
“I
don’t know, but we can try. Get your stuff. I do have to go to the office for a
bit. Meet me at the shuttle bay.”
There
were two docking bays to the station. One was for the miners and their
shuttles, and the other was for cargo coming in. While the station was mostly
self-sustaining, certain luxury items that were available for the miners to
purchase (with a hefty markup in price to justify the shipping cost) came
straight from Earth or the colonies. There were also shuttles there for anybody
who wanted to leave, assuming they could afford the fare.
Pi
had planned to let the Overseers learn of The Old Man’s death on their own, but
now that she’d told the Deltas, and resolved to take her friend with her, she
had to tell them herself. After Delta took off to gather her stuff, Pi made a
beeline for the Overseer’s office. She thumbed her ID at the computer there.
“Business?”
“Multiple
items,” Pi said. There was a pause as the computer thought about what she said.
Eventually, the door slid open, admitting her to the office.
A
man dressed in the same jump suit as every other slave in the station sat at a
large metal desk.
“Designation,”
he said.
“Pi-2350.”
“Business?”
“My
mentor is gone and I’m taking Delta-2350 and leaving.”
The
man’s eyes widened a little in surprise, but he said nothing, just tapped at
his keyboard, forwarding the message to his superiors.
“Someone
will be with you shortly. Please have a seat.”
Pi
did as he said, sprawling in one of the armchairs placed around the room. She looked
a little comical, with her head on one armrest, one leg stretched out over the
other, and her freshly-sneakered heel tapping against the chair.
She
was getting bored enough to think about pulling out her e-reader when an
intercom on the secretary’s desk beeped.
“The
Overseer will see you now, Pi-2350,” he said.
“Thank
you,” she said as she swung down off the chair and went into the next office.
Another
man, this one dressed in a suit and tie sat behind another gigantic metal desk.
“State
your business,” he said, as if he didn’t know.
“Pi-2350.
My mentor is gone.”
“Define
‘gone’, 2350.”
As
matter-of-factly as she could, she said, “He turned the safeties off on his
thrusters after we finished with our last asteroid and set them to maximum burn
toward Earth.”
The
man at the desk sniffed. “There’s no way he’ll make it all the way there.”
“It’s
better than the ‘retirement’ that the station offered him. At least he’ll die
close to a planet that was home for him.” Pi found that she couldn’t hide the
venom in her voice.
“The
retirement plan offered by the station is very generous,” the suit said. “Did
you have any other business, 2350?”
“Yes,”
she said and repeated what she’d told the secretary. “I’m taking Delta-2350 and
leaving.”
“Is
that so?”
“Yes.
I have enough credits to purchase passage for both of us on a shuttle.”
“Do
you have a destination in mind?”
“Luna
at first, I expect. Maybe Earth later.”
“I
see. Well, you’re free to go if someone will take you. You both were supposed
to be off the next three shifts, yes?”
“Yes.
Pi and I just finished up a month-long expedition. Delta and her mentor are off
rotation at the docks until next week as well.”
“If
you can’t book passage off the station before your next work shift, you will be
expected to show up.”
“Don’t
worry. We won’t be here. I’ll fly in someone’s cargo hold if it means getting
off this hellhole.”
“There’s
no need to be rude, Pi-2350. This station has been very good to you. We gave
you a place to live and learn and grow.”
“You
also didn’t say anything to the Global Coalition when a pair of two-year-old girls’
numbers came up in the Lottery, did you? We were just more workers to you.”
Pi
didn’t allow the suit to answer and stormed out, letting the door slide shut
behind her. Her next stop was the shuttle bay. It was a beehive of activity:
ships docking at the airlocks, being unloaded, dock hands and captains running
here and there, trying to sort out manifests and invoices. She looked around
for Delta and saw the poor girl standing in the middle of the bay, dodging out
of people’s way, trying not to get run over by the cargo. Pi connected her
implant to Delta’s.
~I’m
over by the door, Del,~ Pi spoke directly into her head. ~Come to me and get
out of everybody’s way, would you?~
Delta
spun around and saw Pi. She waved and hurried over.
“I was worried you left without
me!”
Pi
hugged her, feeling the heavy thudding of Delta’s heart against her chest.
“It’s
okay, Del,” Pi said, stroking her back, trying to calm her frantic friend. Pi
released her and held her at arm’s length. “Let’s see if we can get a ship
outta here, all right?”
Delta
nodded. “Okay. Are you sure you have enough for me?”
“No,”
Pi admitted. “It depends on how much a captain wants to charge us to get out of
here.”
She
looked around, trying to spot someone who seemed important and spotted a woman
almost right away. Pi marched right up her, dragging Delta by the hand and
hoping this woman was the captain of a ship.
“Are
you the captain of one of these shuttles?” Pi asked.
“Well,
hello to you too, miss,” the woman said. She was a thin, almost obscenely tall
woman, who had obviously grown up on Luna or Mars where the gravity was much
less than Earth. She was of Earth origins, however, and her dark skin showed
her African ancestry. Pi marveled at her exotic appearance, trying her best to
not let it show on her face.
“Yes,
I’m the captain of the Pluto. She’s
not the fastest or prettiest ship in the system.” She snorted a laugh of
derision. “She’s little more than a bucket of bolts, held together by rust,
glue and tape, with a little hope thrown in. Why? You two need a lift outta
here?”
“How
long does it take to get to Luna?”
“The
trip takes about two years, and costs about four hundred thousand credits.”
Delta’s
knees went weak at the quoted price and Pi had to hold onto her to keep her
from falling. A moment later, Delta spoke into Pi’s head through my implant.
~Pi,
can you afford that? I only have a couple hundred credits in my account.~
~Don’t
worry about it.~
Pi
had figured the trip would take that long. What amazed her was how cheap the
price was. “Is that per person, or for both of us?”
“I’m
feeling charitable,” the captain said. “Let’s say that’s for both of you.”
“When
do you leave?”
Delta
stared at her friend as if she’d lost her mind. ~Do you seriously have that
kind of money?!~
Pi
didn’t respond to her. The captain looked the two girls up and down then tapped
something on the tablet she was holding. “It
looks like my cargo’s unloaded.” She smirked. “If you can afford it, we’ll
leave right the hell now.”
Pi
held out her thumb, signaling for the captain to let her pay. Shrugging, she
tapped her tablet again and held it out. Pi pressed her thumb to the screen and
smiled. The computer dinged and the pilot glanced at it, wonderingly.
“All
right, ladies. Step aboard the Pluto.”
Delta’s
jaw dropped and she clutched Pi’s arm tightly as the captain led them through
the shuttle bay to the airlock. Pi looked out the window at the Pluto. It might have been a sleek, black
trading scow at one time, but the vessel had seen better days. The black hull
was scored and scorched from asteroids hitting and bouncing off.
“What
do you think?” The captain asked.
“If
it gets us off this station, it’s the most beautiful ship I’ve ever seen.”
