The Beep! Beep! Beep! of the warning buzzer filled my ears and drove all the remaining thoughts out of my mind. I felt the outermost wave of displaced air touch my face, waited for the mind-numbing impact, and felt a hand grab my jacket. The beeping sound turned into a long, thin scream as the train roared by. The heel of my left boot bounced off the side of a cargo module and threw me deeper into the niche. My head hit the bulkhead with a distinct clang. Anyone who had a full load of brains would’ve been injured. I was momentarily dizzy but otherwise fine. The train was gone as quickly as it came. I looked at Sasha. “Thanks. You saved my life.”
There it was again. The flash of compassion, of caring, quickly hidden by a shrug and a flip reply. “It was my turn.”
We paid attention after that, pushing our way down the corridor, watching for oncoming trains. That’s how I spotted the change in what had been dull uniformity. The difference was hard to describe, except to say that the lighting was different, and the bulkheads had been replaced by a vague haziness. But the area acquired definition as we moved closer, rolled into focus like a carefully adjusted lens, and became a vast open space.
The bulkheads fell away and the corridor became a sky bridge that spidered out over a large cargo bay. It was filled with bushes. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them. They were lushly green, almost identical in size and shape, and heavy with purple blossoms. Light glittered off tiny wings as a host of robotic insects flitted from one blossom to the next, spreading pollen, or doing whatever it was they had been designed to do. I noticed that the bushes, and the containers they sat in, were secured to the deck.
My stomach flip-flopped as I drifted out and over the abyss. Heights don’t bother me, but floating does. I wouldn’t fall, not till gravity had been restored, but I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere either. Not unless the air-conditioned breeze blew me against something solid. I made a grab for the railing, got it, and checked to see if Sasha was watching. She wasn’t, thank god, and neither was Joy. Both had ignored the view and were well on their way to reaching the other side.
I followed, careful to plan my movements, and was grateful when the corridor closed around me. We had gone about fifty feet down the passageway when the vertical access tubes appeared and the hall ended. That was interesting, but not half as interesting as the foot-high letters that spelled out the words, “Corpies Suck!” followed by some incomprehensible lines and squiggles. It didn’t take an art historian to see that the artist had used some sort of marker rather than spray paint. I turned towards Sasha. “The tug crew, I suppose?”
She gave me a dirty look and pushed herself towards the access tubes. “Come on. Let’s camp on the main deck. I’d rather look at bushes than metal bulkheads.”
That seemed reasonable, so I tagged along. Sasha had rigged a way to tow her duffel bag one after the other. The second one bounced off the coaming as she pushed herself down through the tube. Joy shoved her cases into position, waved cheerfully, and dropped feet first into the tube.
That left me. I pushed myself into position, planned my approach descent, and “climbed” down the rungs intended for use with gravity. It worked pretty well.
I was concerned about where Sasha would lead us once we arrived on, or in this case near, the main deck. I needn’t have been. In spite of the fact that she had pooh-poohed my concerns regarding security, the girl had good instincts, and headed for the point where the bulkhead intersected the vessel’s hull. While not exactly a fortress, this would protect our backs, and allow space for a kill zone between our quarters and what I increasingly thought of as the forest.
Though not as tall as your average tree, the bushes did tower over me, or would have if I’d been standing rather than floating. That made them a forest, as did the brooding feel that surrounded them, and the rather large amount of space that they occupied.
A cloud of glittering robo-insects rose into the air, hovered for a moment, and settled back down. Light glinted off their silvery wings and made them look like branch-grown diamonds.
It was then that I noticed the fragrance that drifted up around us. It smelled good at first, like perfume on a high-priced hooker, but grew thick and cloying after a minute or so.
Once there we found the corner already occupied by four storage modules. I tried one and found it unlocked. A quick investigation revealed that the boxes contained hand tools, fertilizer concentrate, and a whole bunch of lab equipment that I didn’t understand. But density is density, and if lab equipment can shield me from darts, then I don’t care what it’s for.
Sasha grumbled when I freed the containers from the deck, and insisted on rearranging them into a protective semicircle, but went along with the plan. Not because she liked it, or thought it was necessary, but because I’m a crotchety old bastard who has to be humored.
Once our newly formed bulwark was in place, and was mag-locked to the deck, our next requirement was furniture. Beds had first priority, since they could do double duty as acceleration couches, and would cushion us from the effects of gravity.
With that in mind, we spread out to see what we could find. I wanted to say something cautionary, like “watch out for people with Mars Bars,” but knew better than to push my luck. I took the port side and headed towards the bow, while the others took the bulkhead and headed towards the access tubes.
We’d been at it for fifteen minutes when a squadron of mechanical insects took to the air and Joy came swinging through the branches. You could see bushes swaying all the way back to where she’d come from. Her last swing, followed by a split-second release, sent her flying towards my shoulder. She hit with a thump. I fell backwards and struggled to right myself. “Damn it, Joy…what the hell are you doing?”
“Arriving,” she said brightly. “And I found what you’re looking for.”
“You did? Where?”
“In a storage room near the access tubes. Cargo pads…lots of them.”
I used the bush tops to pull myself along. Blossoms came loose and floated through the air like organic confetti. The smell of them stuck to the back of my throat. Joy held onto my right shoulder tab and chattered the whole way. I didn’t pay much attention to what she said, but realized how pleasant her voice was, and understood how lonely Wamba must have been. I wondered if he’d make another Joy, or if that was possible, since she was one of a kind. I hoped so.
The cargo pads were right where Joy had said they’d be, and while some of them were raggedy, and others were stained, most were reasonably clean. It was a simple matter to free the pads from the straps that held them in place, sort them in mid-air, and take the ones we wanted. Sasha arrived towards the end of the process and helped tow them to our newly created home.
It didn’t take long to discover that securing the pads to the deck was going to be a problem. But through the judicious use of magnetic clamps borrowed from here and there, and the huge roll of duct tape that I had included in our luggage, we created what looked like comfortable beds. Gravity would provide the true test.
With that effort out of the way, Sasha and I discovered that we were tired. So, after eating some rather salty ration bars, and washing them down with water siphoned from the irrigation system, we strapped ourselves in for a good night’s sleep. Not that “night” had any particular meaning within the realm of the eternally lit cargo bay.
I felt one of us should keep watch, but Sasha thought it was unnecessary. So, since robots don’t sleep, and she would be up and around anyway, Joy was the logical compromise. I’ve got to admit that I felt some qualms about entrusting our safety to a twelve-inch-tall android, but my eyelids grew heavy, sleep beckoned, and I went along.
It was two or three hours later when I was awoken by the sudden and unannounced imposition of Earth-normal gravity. And, while I was growing more and more accustomed to zero-gee conditions, it felt good. And so it was that I had just rearranged my bed, snuggled under a cargo mat, and drifted off to sleep when Joy jumped up and down on my chest. The poppers attacked two minutes later.