Sasha shrugged. “Yeah, it seems funny, that’s all. Well, let’s get busy and find our cabins.”
I felt my face go blank. “Cabins?”
Her expression said it all. But there was no comment this time, and no recriminations, as she’d had time to think the matter through and made a conscious decision to tolerate my lapses. I didn’t know which was worse, being yelled at for being stupid, or escaping criticism for the same reason.
We headed for the habitat’s Administrative Control Section, waited through a line, and asked a graffiti-covered android for separate cabins. None were available, so we agreed to share a double, dropped one thousand four hundred and fifty dollars of the money Sasha had collected from Murphy Enterprises, and retreated to the cafeteria. It boasted a 360-degree view, and, thanks to the fact that we were a full hour ahead of the next shift change, there were plenty of tables. They had padded edges, were welded to the floor, and came with four stools apiece.
So there we were, sitting at our table and gazing at what was left of Mother Earth, when the man in the green sports coat appeared. I should have been surprised, but wasn’t somehow. He had carefully combed hair, narrow-set eyes, and heavily creased frown lines. A sack dangled from his right hand. The contents were round and about the size of a bowling ball. He gestured towards the table. “Mr. Doud…Ms. Cooper…may I join you?”
I looked at Sasha and she shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
“‘Why not,’ indeed,” the man said as he took his seat. “It’s so much more pleasant when people talk rather than fight. Although,” he said, placing the sack on the table, “violence does have its place. Isn’t that so, Mr. Doud? Or should I say Mr. Maxon?” His eyes were pale, pale blue, like denim that’s been washed too many times.
I shifted my weight from one side of the stool to the other. “I guess so.”
The man shook his head in mock wonderment. “Tsk, tsk. You’re far too modest.” He turned to Sasha. “You should have seen him, my dear, charging through the Trans-Solar checkpoint like an avenging angel, shooting anyone who got in the way. But I did my part, yes I did, and saved his life.”
I thought back to the fight and remembered the bodyguard with the bullet between her eyes. “You did that? You killed the bodyguard?”
The man nodded calmly. “Yes, I did, and you’re quite welcome.” He stuck a hand across the table, and I took it. “The name’s Nigel Trask. Glad to meet you.”
He shook hands with Sasha while I tried to figure things out. “But why? Why did you help me?”
Trask shrugged. “Anyone who attacks Trans-Solar is a friend till proven otherwise.”
“Why? Did Trans-Solar do something to make you angry with them?”
Trask looked surprised, as if the answer was so obvious that only an idiot would miss it, which was probably true. “Trans-Solar, along with the other spacelines, oppresses humanity through the drug called technology.”
Sasha entered the conversation sideways, sliding in between the two of us so smoothly that Trask didn’t notice, and I wasn’t offended. “So you’re a greenie?” It was more statement than question.
Trask stiffened. “Labels are somewhat tedious, but yes, I favor a return to the agrarian past.”
Sasha nodded. “So that explains your opposition to Trans-Solar. But where do we fit in?”
“An excellent question,” Trask replied solemnly. “And one I was sent to get an answer to. Where do you fit in?”
Sasha spread her hands over the table. “Nowhere. Mr. Maxon and I are neutrals in the war between the corporations and you.”
“There are no neutrals in our war. Trans-Solar snatched you for a reason. What was it?”
Sasha shrugged. “I have no idea why Trans-Solar had me snatched. Ransom, perhaps?”
“No,” Trask replied, “I don’t think so. Not the normal kind, anyway. Trans-Solar is too big, too important, to waste its resources on a two-bit snatch, so it’s safe to assume they didn’t. What about Murphy Enterprises? What’s your connection with them?”
Sasha looked puzzled. “Murphy who? Never heard of them.”
Trask allowed an eyebrow to drift towards his hairline. “Really? That’s not what Rita says.” He grabbed the top of the sack and gave a powerful jerk. The cloth came away and Rita’s head rocked from side to side. A power saw had been used to remove it from her body. An auxiliary power pack had been hard-wired into her circuitry and was taped to her plastiflesh neck. Her eyes popped open and looked around. “Hello, Mr. Maxon. Ms. Casad.”
A lump formed in the back of my throat. Poor Rita. She had fallen out of the frying pan and into the fire. “Hi, Rita.”
Her face was wooden as always. “I’m sorry, but they forced me to tell them everything I knew.”
Trask nodded agreeably. “The android is correct. She did tell us everything she knew. And a boring lot of garbage it was. Her kind are an abomination, an expression of The Board’s contempt for humanity, and must be destroyed.”
So saying, he produced a pair of insulated side cutters, selected one of the wires that ran from the power supply into Rita’s throat, and cut it in two. Sparks crackled, the smell of burnt insulation filled the air, and Rita’s eyes rolled back in her head. She was dead. I was angry, but Sasha seemed entirely unmoved. “That was unnecessary.”
Trask returned the side cutters to a pocket. “Perhaps, but enjoyable nonetheless, and it did get your attention. Now, tell me about your connection with Murphy Enterprises.”
Sasha shrugged. “We took one of Trans-Solar’s boats, used it to escape from their thugs, and sold it to Murphy Enterprises. End of story.”
Trask stared at her as if able to see through her skull and into her brain. “Alright, that compares favorably with what Rita told us, but there could be more. Things she didn’t know. Things she didn’t hear. So we’ll wait and see what happens. But mark my words, if your mother’s company is working to unleash some sort of new technological hell on the human race, then we’ll learn of it, and do everything in our power to stop you.”
Sasha looked him right in the eye. “I have no knowledge of what my mother’s company might or might not be working on.”
Trask nodded, but it was clear that he didn’t believe her, and you know what? Neither did I.
7
“Management is not responsible for radiation-induced genetic mutations that may be experienced by guests, visitors, or crew of Staros-3 during or after their time aboard.”
Fine print found on the back of each Staros-3 boarding pass
There were lots of things to do, like losing Trask, and getting off Staros-3, but we were tired and went to bed instead.
In spite of the exorbitant amount of money we had paid for the cabin, it was little more than a shoebox. The beds folded down from the bulkhead and occupied most of what little bit of deck-space there was. That put the mattresses side by side, but I don’t mess with clients, especially when they’re almost twenty years younger than I am. The sheets had seen better days, but most of the holes had been patched, and they were reasonably clean.
Sasha started to remove her clothes, frowned, and gestured for me to turn my back. Hookers, the only women with whom I had recent experience, didn’t care if you looked or not. I turned my back and made a note to be more careful in the future.
I brushed my teeth in the tiny sink, took my turn in the fresher, and was careful to wear a towel when I emerged. There was no need, however, since Sasha had turned the lights down and was already asleep. I dried myself off, slipped into my spare underwear, and got into bed. It felt wonderful. I don’t know if the ensuing dream stemmed from the cafeteria’s heavy-duty spaghetti sauce, my return to space, or something entirely different, but it was a real lulu.