Third Moon Chemicals Read online

  “I guess they could do that,” Jake said, flipping the tablet open.

  “It’s the disrespect that bothers me,” the man said. “Like they don’t care what we think. Do you feel disrespected?”

  “Um, sure. But there’s nothing I can do, you know.”

  “We should do something. We should walk up there and tell them what’s what. That they can’t just keep us waiting here without an explanation.”

  Jake tipped his tablet up and tried to ignore his seatmate. The drop shuttle was now an hour late, and he needed to get to orbit. This was not going well.

  “There she is.”

  “Sorry, who?” Jake said. He sighed and put down his tablet.

  “The first officer must be that skinny girl in the Castle Transport uniform up there. Nice view from this angle.”

  “Yes. Yes, it must be,” Jake said, appreciating her from behind as she stormed into the cockpit. She looked familiar somehow.

  “Nice-looking girl from the back. I like that. What about you?”

  “She does look very fit,” Jake said. He looked more closely. A horrible suspicion grew in him.

  The intercom boomed. “Your first officer speaking. Sorry for the delay. We’ll drop for Transit-16 in a moment. Apologies for the late departure, but we were delayed by the late arrival of an inbound shuttle.”

  Oh no. That voice. He knew that voice.

  “They should have to make up new excuses every time, don’t you think?” the man said.

  “Yes,” Jake said. “They absolutely should.”

  “What excuses would you make for the first officer being late?”

  “Well, I would say that the first officer was late because she had been involved in a scheme to defraud her employer of insurance payouts. And she had kidnapped the main investigator, shot him in the chest, then held him hostage until he helped them steal a cache of black-market Old Empire weapons. And as a side effect, she had the auditor shoot his best friend.” Jake shut off his tablet and continued. “Or, perhaps she had been busy pirating a spaceship that this auditor was on and stealing rare metals off it. And when everybody got sick in a measles epidemic, she helped the auditor escape off it, yet tried to steal all of his money so that he would lose his job and be left destitute. But it didn’t quite work out because the auditor tricked her into taking the less valuable stuff, and she’s probably here because she wants to exact some terrible revenge on that auditor—like spacing him, or putting him in jail for murder, or dropping him off on some station with no food or water or air or hope.”

  The man next to Jake looked at him with wide eyes. “Wow. You have a great imagination. What do you do, write fiction for a living?”

  “No,” Jake said. “I’m an accountant.” Nevertheless, what I just said, Jake thought, was reality, not fiction. Hello, Nadine.

  Nadine stormed onto the bridge. She hadn’t paid any attention to the passengers, and hadn’t seen Jake. “Let’s get this show on the road. We still have a few minutes left to catch our drop.” She began flipping switches. “Control, this is Castle Transport Drop-6, do we have clearance to go?” Nadine tapped a different screen. “Steward, this is control. Why aren’t the hatches sealed?”

  “Control, this is steward. I have a name. And they are not sealed because nobody from the bridge told us to seal them.”

  “Are all the passengers on board?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then by the four and twenty testicles of the Imperial Council, seal them and let’s get out of here before we miss our launch window,” Nadine said. She shut off the squawking from the steward and changed channels. “Control? What’s the word?”

  “Any time, Castle Transport 6.”

  “Outstanding,” Nadine said. She pressed the warning gongs and began to drop the magnetized grapples. “Steward, as soon as you get that hatch closed we’re gone. Speed it up,” she said and shut off the channel, then pressed the zero-g gong.

  “Hi,” she said, turning to the man to her left. “I’m Nadine, who are you?”

  “I am Timothy Desmaries. Acting second officer. I am the pilot-in-command.”

  “Good for you, Timmy. Command away while I get us out of here.” She watched the board turn green. “Control”—she hit the radio—“dropping now. Free trades.”

  “That’s a nice sentiment from a corporate ship, Castle Transport 6. Free trades yourself.”

  Nadine grimaced. Oops. Stay in character. She maneuvered the ship away from the truss and began to decelerate to push into a higher orbit. They started to move away. She sat back and watched her board. She had agreed to do these runs until the Militia contacted her, but now she had to learn as much as she could about Militia activities on the station. Spy on them and pass her information to an on-station contact.

  Oh, and not upset her contact.

  She turned to Timmy. He was frowning. She flashed him a smile. “So, Timmy, what’s a girl do for excitement on Transit-6?”

  “Give me a beer,” Jake said.

  “Sure,” the bartender said. He called something down the bar. A young woman at the other end filled a draft glass and walked it down.

  “Here ya go. Three credits. Give me your corporate card for the tab,” she said.

  “I’ll pay now. Here’s some GG credit,” Jake said, sliding one of the GG chips over the bar.

  “No card?”

  “No.”

  “More convenient that way.”

  “I’ve had problems with my corporate card before. You don’t like GG credit?”

  “It’s fine. Just most people put a card up is all.”

  “I drink too much and spend too much money when I run a tab.”

  “Don’t we all,” she said. She winked at him.

  Jake drank. “This is Belter beer.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you give me Belter beer? Does everybody here order it?”

  “You’re a Belter. Corporate logo on the skinsuit, but it’s a semi-hard suit, equipment belt, and—”

  “Belter boots. I know. They were my dad’s.”

  “Expensive boots. Professional. Functional. Not very stylish, though.”

  Jake drank his beer and contemplated life. A figure sat down on the seat next to him. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear a familiar voice.

  “Hi, Jakey,” Nadine said.

  “Hello, Nadine.”

  The bartender returned and stood there expectantly.

  “Are you going to buy me a drink?”

  “Nope, I don’t think so.”

  Nadine slid a credit chip across the counter. “Give me a shot of vodka,” she said.

  The bartender poured one shot and slid it to Nadine. She downed it in one go. “Another, please,” Nadine said.

  Nadine turned to Jake. “Wow, Jake. What a coincidence meeting you here, in the first bar I walk into.”

  “You’re lying. There are six bars between here and the docks. I counted. You saw me on your passenger list. You were looking for me. What do you want?”

  “After all that money you stole from me, you should at least pay for my drinks.”

  “I didn’t steal anything from you. You stole it from me. Or from corporate, or something like that. Either way, it wasn’t yours. And you shot up my ship,” Jake said.

  “Technically, it wasn’t your ship. And it wasn’t personal.”

  “Okay, shooting up the ship wasn’t personal. From my point of view, taking all that metal wasn’t personal. But how about shooting me in the chest? Was that personal?”

  Nadine downed her vodka. “That’s old news, Jake. Another, please,” she said to the bartender. Their voices had risen a bit, so both bartenders had drifted down to listen.

  “And for me. The green bottles. And give me a shot of vodka as well,” Jake said. “Well? Was shooting me personal?”

  “You were being annoying. I didn’t know you drank vodka. And you let that stupid engine room guy shoot me with that shotgun and break my arm. Why did you do that, Jakey?”

  The drinks arrived, and Jake drank some more. “You were being annoying. And I hate vodka.”

  Nadine glared at him. “What about my money?”

  “What are you doing here, Nadine? Are you here to bother me? You going to shoot me again?”

  “Not today, Jakey. No time. I’ve got work to do here.”

  “So do I.”

  “Well, I have no plans to shoot you again. But if you get in my way, I might just change my mind, so stay clear.” She banged the last glass down, and collected her credit chip from the bartender. “Thanks. See you later,” Nadine said. She sauntered out, taking care to put a wiggle in her walk.

  The male bartender crossed his arms and watched her wiggle away. He looked at the female bartender standing next to him with her hands on her hips. “She likes you, doesn’t she?” he said to Jake.

  “What?” Jake said.

  “She likes you a lot,” agreed the female bartender.

  “You two are both nuts,” Jake said and shook his head. “Another beer.”

  He sighed as he sat at the bar. Another boring assignment. This was what happened when you screwed up at school—again, he reflected. He replayed the meeting with Mr. Dashi in his mind. He had been summoned to Dashi’s office a few days before.

  “Mr. Stewart. Good morning,” Dashi had said. He smiled at Jake. He was at his usual place behind his large, expensive, wooden desk.

  “Sir,” Jake said.

  “You look well, Mr. Stewart.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Very well, for somebody who died four times during training.”

  “Ah. You know about that?”

  “Piloting doesn’t seem to agree with you, does it, Mr. Stewart?”

  “Not at present, sir.”

  Dashi was silent for a moment, contemplating Jake.

  “Sir, I would like another try at that simulator,” Jake said.

  “And why would I countenance that?”

  Countenance? Jake wondered if Dashi looked up new words before every meeting. He coughed. “I think it’s more a matter of experience than training, sir. I think with practice and experience, I could pass, sir.”

  “I’ll reserve my judgment on that for now. Spots in those classes are in high demand. There won’t be another one for some time. But you did well on the mechanical and electrical courses. A good feel for how ship systems work.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “But in the meantime, I have some duties for you.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “I want you to do an audit. I’m loaning you to one of our sub-corporations. They do business on Orbital-16. Fuel, consumables. There are some indications of unusual activities there. A few containers of food have gone missing. I want you to find out if there is something strange going on. Possibly illegal. Kickbacks or graft. We won’t be taking any action at this time, but I want to know what is going on. Go there and nose around in the figures, the reports. Make sure the information that they are sending us is correct.”

  “I can do that, sir.”

  “But you can’t let them know that you are doing it. You are going there as a worker, not as an auditor.”

  “You want me to keep under the radar, sir?”

  Dashi cocked his head to one side. “Under the radar? What does that mean?”

  “Old Empire term from some vids I watched, sir. It means ‘quietly, without notice.’”

  “Where does radar figure into it?”

  “I’m not sure, sir. It’s something from Old Earth.”

  “They had radar? I suppose they did—they got into space, after all. But radar goes in all directions, Mr. Stewart. How do you stay under it?”

  “It’s just an expression, sir.”

  “I see. Well, yes, I want you to be ‘under the radar,’ then.”

  “I will, sir.”

  “Good. You will share your notes with us in the usual way, of course, but there is also another on-station operation going on. Not one of mine, but we are temporarily working together. There is contact information in your chip. Please, meet with the listed contact regularly and share what you learn from that office as well.”

  “Yes sir,” Jake said. Dashi nodded, and Jake recognized a dismissal. He got up and walked to the door.

  “Mr. Stewart?”

  “Yes sir?”

  “Your contact up there is a bit unreliable. You should double-check any facts they give you.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Two days later, when Jake arrived at the station, he went to meet his contact. He arrived at the caf early, pulled a cup of basic and bought a high-protein breakfast tray—two types of seaweed and a large block of processed and freeze-dried fish wrapped in bright green foil. It was so dry he had to pull an extra glass of basic. He had read that the Old Empire ate eggs for breakfast. He’d never tasted one, or even seen one for real. There were no chickens on Delta. He was careful to make sure that the bright green foil packaging was visible to anybody who walked by.

  It was thirty minutes before shift change, so the place was packed. Large numbers of people came and went, some just pulling a cup of basic, then rushing off to work. This was a big station, and the coveralls reflected that—lots of different corporate logos, major as well as minor corps. There were almost as many office suits over coveralls as tool belts. The latest fashion style for the girls was bright scarfs and headbands.

  To his considerable surprise, he saw Nadine walk in and go through the food line, collect a tray and sit down. She hadn’t struck him as a morning type. He watched her for a moment, then shook his head. Focus.

  The place nearly emptied out as the shift change hour approached. Only a handful of people were left, including Nadine. He glared at her across the caf. She glared back at him. People from the outgoing shift began to flood in. Jake ignored Nadine and continued to eat. People walked in and out of the caf, and some sat. None came near Jake.

  After an hour, Jake had to admit defeat. His contact had missed the rendezvous. He’d try again tomorrow. He walked toward the disposal chute. Nadine was still there as well. That was odd. Jake very deliberately didn’t look at her. Except, what was that color?

  Crap. Nadine also had one of the expensive protein bars for breakfast. Could it be a coincidence? Probably not. The right time, the right place, the right color. Jake walked over to her table and sat down.

  “Go away, Jakey,” Nadine said. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

  “If that’s what you want. Are you sure?”

  “Of course I am,” she said. Then she looked at his tray. “Oh no.”

  “Yup.”

  “What did I do to deserve this?”

  “You? What did I do?”

  They stared at each other for a few moments.

  “Let’s make this contact official. I say the code words ‘Gravity seems off today,’ then you say—” Jake said.

  “It’s probably just the solar flares,” Nadine said. “There, happy?”

  “It looks like we’re going to be working together.”

  “‘Together’ is a big word, Jake.”

  “Let’s say we’ll meet and have a few things to say to each other.”

  “Actually, I like that better, Jakey. Let’s do that. I have quite a few things to say to you.”

  “A few ground rules.”

  “Ground rules?”

  “No shooting each other.”

  “You were being annoying, but fine. No shooting. No stealing things from each other.”

  “It wasn’t yours. But okay. No stealing.” Jake shook his head. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Believe it.”

  “Yes. Okay, I’ll go first. My instructions say I’m supposed to inform you of any malfeasance I find.”

  “Malfeasance? Jake, just say people stealing things. It’s easier to understand.”

  “Fine, I’m looking for people who are selling black-market food trays. Anything you find out about that, you’re supposed to let me know.”

  “Who cares? It shouldn’t be that hard to find that out. A task suitable for even your limited abilities, Jakey.”

  Jake gritted his teeth. “And you are supposed to inform me of anything you find out about unusual Militia activities.”

  “If I think it’s relevant.”

  “Nadine, as much as we both dislike this, we are supposed to work together.”

  “We don’t, really, Jake. I have no idea what my boss was thinking. And he’s not here right now, so I’ll do what I want.”

  “Which is figure out what the Militia is doing on this station,” Jake said.

  “You know that, huh? I don’t need your help with that. And if you get in my way, watch out.”

  “Nadine, did it ever occur to you that I might be able to help you solve your problem?”

  “Nope. I don’t need your help. I’ll be done and gone before you’ve filed your first report.”

  “If I find out something relating to Militia activities on the station, I shouldn’t let you know?”

  “No need, Jake. I’m way ahead of you. Like always.” She got up. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, same time, same place.” She smiled. “Maybe, if I’m back from my party yet. Later, Jakey.” She flounced off.

  Jake watched her go. Working with Nadine was going to be a chore.

  But she did look good in that skinsuit.

  Chapter 10

  Even Jake thought his new job was boring. He’d been loaned out to the accounting department of the station’s orbital services. There, he worked in cargo ops as a ‘logistical sales specialist,’ level three.

  “So, Jack, basically, just answer the comms or emails. The ships want fuel, reaction mass, water, food, and a few other consumables. They either have a standing order or they send it in. Check the list of incoming ships against our orders, and make sure it’s on the schedule for the shift,” Jake’s shift boss said. She was middle-aged and dressed older. A romantic soap opera was playing in the corner of her console screen.