Ramis tried to brush her question aside. He blinked his eyes again. “I must have gotten mixed up and subtracted the two-hour difference instead of adding it. I was sleeping, for the first time in days, but I planned to wake up before you arrived. I still needed some time to … to get something.”
He looked at her with his dark eyes, hesitating. “I was not certain it would be you. It could have been one of the other Soviets, or someone else that Brahms sent over …” His voice trailed off.
On an impulse, Karen wanted to hug him, but in the monstrous padded suit that would have been more comical than poignant. “The important thing is that I’m here.” She threw a glance at his loose, comfortable clothes. His space suit was conspicuously absent. “Where are you staying?”
“I have found several private chambers.”
“Sounds like a good start.” Karen handed him the helmet to carry. “Lead on, Ramis.” She hooked her belongings on the crook of her arm.
Ramis took her through several cubicles and down to a second deck. Karen felt as if she were in a three-dimensional maze. “You will learn your way around quickly,” said Ramis. “It is a monotonous arrangement.”
At first the station’s layout confused her, but after only a few minutes, she discovered a pattern: the three decks were all arranged identically, but offset from the decks above them. An octagonal pattern of compartments surrounded each staircase, holding emergency supplies of air, food, and water. One could travel straight up or down the decks if needed, but the main thoroughfares were staggered to break the monotony.
As they walked, she noted few displays of artwork or any kind of decor. In recreation areas, she saw murals depicting larger-than-life characters with a central hero, usually standing in a field or a city, looking toward the stars.
Ramis stopped before a row of eight cabins with doors open. Karen dumped her helmet and satchel onto the floor. The rooms were not all clustered together; several blank spaces separated the doors at random intervals. Looking closely at the bulkhead, Karen ran her hand along a hairline seam.
“There are doors all along here. I wonder why some of them are closed?”
Ramis turned away. “Most of them were open, or at least activated, when I arrived. They close behind you after you leave the room.”
“And how do you open them again?”
“That I do not know,” Ramis said slowly. “I have tried to get back inside.”
“I see.” Karen suppressed a smile. She lounged back against the polished bulkhead and crossed her arms. Ramis stared back, unblinking. She nodded to the row of closed doors. “If they used to be all open, then I bet you did some experimenting, trying to find out how to open them.”
Ramis nodded.
Karen pushed away from the wall. “And I suppose you slept in one of these last night?” She could not stop her smile from growing. “And I suppose you took your helmet and suit with you. It’s in one of these rooms, and now you can’t get the door open again?”
Ramis flushed and nodded stiffly. No wonder he didn’t meet me outside, she thought. Though the time lag on the chronometers had distracted her for a while, he was obviously too abashed at losing face, and had needed to make up an excuse that would not leave him appearing stupid. Losing his helmet because he couldn’t get the door open again! He probably thought he’d be stuck here forever.
Already, being away from Orbitech 1 had improved her mood. The situation wasn’t funny, but if worse came to worst, they could always smash the door in with a Soviet forklift.
“Why don’t you help me out of this suit so I can move like a human being again? We’ll leave it right here in the hall. Then take me to the control room. That’s where you kept in communication with Orbitech 1, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I will show you.”
Over the next fifteen minutes, she struggled with the fastenings and seals of her suit. Ramis seemed patient and enjoyed being with her; they chatted about meaningless things. She realized he must have been terribly lonely.
The helmet and harness lay on the floor. Karen squirmed out of the bulky protective suit and stood hunched over in her cotton jumpsuit, breathing hard. She wiped a palm across her forehead and stared at the sweat glinting off the dim corridor lights.
“How can construction engineers live in those things?”
Ramis furrowed his eyebrows. “All the body functions are taken care of. You know how to activate the glucose tablet dispenser? That would give you energy. Vitamin supplements can keep you going for several shifts.”
Karen shook her head. “That’s not really what I meant. Right now I’m still a little dizzy from all that anti-rad junk I had to take.”
Kneeling on the floor, she dug through her bag and opened a Mylar satchel. It hissed when she broke the seal, indicating that air pressure on the Kibalchich was lower than what she had left behind. “I brought you some personal effects. I went into your quarters and took anything I thought you might want, since you left in such a hurry.” She looked into his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind?”
“No, of course not.”
Karen handed him a clean set of clothes, his St. Christopher’s medal, and—with a smile—a pack of jerky made from unprocessed wall-kelp. “I thought you might miss this.”
“How can I ever repay you?” he asked, then made a wicked smile. “Or is the correct American phrasing, I’ll get you for that?”
She laughed, then stood up again. “Control room?”
“This way.” Ramis motioned her up the corridor. He bit into the wall-kelp and winced, but chewed. He tore off a chunk and extended it to her. “For such a good friend, I will share.” Ramis glared at her. “I insist.”
They walked up the curving hallway. A low hum pulsed through the station, hovering at the edge of her ability to hear. Karen breathed deep. The air remained stale and metallic from the reprocessers, but it didn’t have the smell of anxiety and fear hanging in every lungful. It seemed refreshing to a certain degree.
Unlike Orbitech l’s low- and zero-gravity decks, depending on their configuration in the colony, the Kibalchich kept gravity throughout its torus, except for the zero-G command center at the hub. As Ramis activated the lift platform to take them toward the center, she felt weight dropping away from her.
The ceiling opened overhead. She felt no gravity at all, but a room appearing above her knocked Karen’s orientation off kilter. Ramis kicked off the lift platform and rose into the chamber. Karen drifted up after him.
“The control room. As you requested.” He made a little bow, which caused him to spin in a somersault in the middle of the room. He started to laugh.
Pinpoints of red and green light burned from control panels. Data screens and attached chairs jutted from the curved walls. A central column surrounded by a holotank extended from floor to ceiling—the light pipe, or whatever it was that connected the shield and solar collectors below the station to the tilted mirror above. The holotank was a standard Hitachi, state of the art in resolution and contrast, but appeared to lack a tactile option.
“Everything is here.” Ramis spread his hands. “One person could seal himself up in this room and control the entire station. I wonder if that is what happened. It would explain the man’s body I found.”
Karen looked around, snagging the nearest chair as she floated by. “Are the computers voice activated?”
“I was able to transmit a message to Orbitech 1.” Ramis floated over to one wall. “Beyond that, I do not know. I cannot speak Russian, remember?”
Karen stared at the holotanks and the various input pads. “Well, let’s try it. First off, we should learn how to unlock all those doors. We’ll get your helmet back.”