The lift took Rodney to the “top” of the Orbital platform where the dock yards started. Officially it was called it the outer ring, but the locals called it the Out Spin. Gravity was the highest here and he felt the rotational wave tug him as the elevator moved to it’s extreme end. He exited the elevator and then jumped onto a moving walkway that scurried him toward the private docks. The clear walls of the hall gave a beautiful view of the tree like branches that extended out from the top of platform.
They reminded Rodney of something organic. He knew an AI had designed the structure to make the most efficient use of space. It allowed for the maximum number of docking ports, while at the same time allowing the vessels sufficient space for entry and egress.
Many times Rodney had contemplated piloting his way in and out of the space. It would be challenging as hell, but he was pretty sure he could pull it off. It was largely a pointless mental exercise however because station systems would never let him try. If you didn’t give up control, you didn’t dock.
Rodney glanced up at the boxes of cargo flowing outside the passenger tubes on the special tracks. Rodney knew from first hand experience that space flight demanded supplies you never wanted to mix with humans. Besides, there was no point in wasting precious resources creating atmosphere for cargo that didn’t need it. On the rare occasion someone transported livestock, they had to be loaded in the commercial bays, or shipped in the larger container vessels.
Rodney looked for orange crates traveling in his general direction, a clue Tony had found the fuel they needed. He didn’t see any. Given that his dock was at the far end of the network, there was little he could do but wait and watch as the walkway sped him toward his slip.
The whole ship yard reminded Rodney of a massive mechanical circulatory system - like some kind of giant space lung. The station was the heart, and the branching paths connecting the docks split in not two, but four directions. Commercial and private docks occupied opposing sides, Government, and military dominated the other. The government and military dominated the complex with the largest networks. They had to be opposing to keep the station balanced. They were big, but the cleanest, newest, and most comfortable ships were to be found in the commercial sector. The private sector, like neighborhoods planetside existed as a grab bag of gated luxury sections right along side areas barely suited for animals.
Technically speaking, you weren’t supposed to “live” in the commercial sector, but as 99.9% of starships had accommodations, Rodney didn’t know a single professional who didn’t stay at the office.
How the hell had that pilot gotten out of the detention center? Rodney ran through the options, and he didn’t like any of them. Either he worked for the government and someone had let him out, or he had friends in high places who could buy his way out, and he didn’t like the implications of that either. For a brief moment, Rodney considered going after the guy. Chances were his ship was still in impound. Friend or no, the Licensing systems had hard protocols for holding vessels that broke the rules. Protocols that were not controlled locally. So what if he ran over there and checked out his ship. Then what? Rodney had no proof the man was related or involved in the disappearance of Geoff Stikine. And the time he spent digging into that could cost him precious time getting to the oracle. On paper it might sound like a good idea to jump after two clan ships, but in practice, blind jumps were worse than suicide, they tended to kill the reclaimer and the people they were trying to save because now two ships were stranded. The law of diminishing returns tended to kick in when the second ship failed to check in. But why the locked coordinates? Rodney couldn’t get it out of his mind. He knew Tracy was already on her way to meet with the sister, but he needed more. Something was not adding up. The faster he got answers, the sooner he would know what he was dealing with.
Still, he had a little time on his side. The fuel would take time. Instead of heading down the tunnel toward his dock, Rodney banked right, nearly rebounding off the walls. He had another lead to run down. Geoff Stikine hadn’t simply rode the elevator up to space and jumped. He didn’t park his starship in orbit - that was expensive. The only way he could meet someone at the Orbital Platform was to leave the elevator, then turn back, burning precious fuel and dock at the 7th end of the commercial district. The platform had constructed a special cluster of docks well away from the main lines to provide for quick interpersonal exchanges. The shaft leading toward the “spine” was thicker than most - reinforced, and double conveyors ran along its outside, but at the top a cluster of 6 docs fanned out from the end, providing a spot for quick passenger and limited cargo exchanges. The spine was always busy. And it also had it’s own surveillance system. While the government records were the “official” records, the insurance companies had learned to setup their own monitoring equipment. As long as Tracy got the contract signed in time, the port authority should give Rodney access to the recordings of Stikine docking and picking up his guest. Rodney wanted to find out who the hell was traveling with him.
Tracy shifted uncomfortably in the travel pod as it settled into its docking bay at the transfer portal. She always felt self conscious about her weight, and despite what the ride share company said, the pods were clearly optimized for a younger, more nimble body type.
She stepped out of the pod and the moment she was clear she heard the motors spin up and whisk it into the air to pick up another passenger. She felt the whoosh of the air as it lifted into the air. Holding her handbag close, she scanned her immediate vicinity. Ex military or no, she was a woman walking into a crowded public transportation terminal at night. She knew the first rule of thumb for staying safe. Pay attention. The area traffic was light, and the lighted walk ways, despite being covered with grime, wrapers, and some gum, functioned perfectly. Rush hour must have just ended as she could see the droids working in teams to clean the space. The trouble was they couldn’t keep up. The daily crush of careless humans was more than they could handle.
The entrance to the transfer portal reminded her of some ancient world structure like a cathedral or the colosseum. The enormous structured stretched up toward the sky, stretching out at the top, like a flower about to open. The entire surface reminded her that she was at the bottom of the Gravity well. Transfers were limited in size at the planets surface. She thought of the ride share pod. Could the whole thing be transported? She wasn’t sure.
The dirt on the ground seemed to contradict the impression of permanence the architecture tried to project. It was built on an ancient scale, but the modern grime made it feel more vulnerable then anyone cared to admit. Tracy hustled through the lofted arches that framed the entrance and scanned her wrist computer to purchase the transit. She’d already loaded the destination into her phone while she was downloading the necessary forms for the clients relatives to sign.
Tracy was nothing if not efficient. The military had taught her that.
The transit system intelligence connected Tracy’s ticket with the next most logical transfer portal and she followed the line shown in her heads up display toward the correct gate. There was already a line, but it was short. One a time, in a steady pace, people inched forward. They looked like ants in a line, but acted like parts on a conveyor belt with a hitch. Step, pause. Step, pause. And so it repeated. She watched as singles, doubles, at most four people at a time passed through the transfer gate. She knew from experience what happened next.
When it was her turn, she showed the android her phone with the proper identification and the ticket - a completely unnecessary move. The machine already had all the information, but for some reason the ritual to keep checking had never died. The block chain proof of original was sufficient to prove her passage and identity, however some practices die hard and the gate agent still insisted upon visually, and digitally inspecting the ticket.
Tracy flashed him the credentials when it was her turn, and then he opened the door. She stepped in side and took a deep breath. She found herself inside a room that was a little bigger than the ride share pod. There were no decorations, not windows, and no seats. Black steel covered the floors, walls, and ceiling. The only illumination came from diffusers in the corners which some how still managed to fill the space with a warm glow of light. The first diffuser blinked, then the second. Tracy held her breath. The third cycled, and then - after what felt like way too much time. The fourth light flashed on and off.
Tracy thought for a moment, “Did it happen? Did I jump? I don’t feel…” then the wave of nausia hit her. It didn’t effect everyone. But it hit her like a ton of bricks. “I don’t miss that,” She said putting out her hand to steady herself. The door ahead of her opened and a warm light beckoned her out of the sterile room.
For a variety of reasons transfer portals when you got right down to it, were utilitarian out of necessity. The physics and intensive computations that allowed a collection of particles to be transferred instantaneously from one location in space to another was well understood, but always on some level dangerous. They contained the dragon by keeping the interfaces simple, the translation mathematics manageable. This was one reason all the transfer portals were stationary and connected. They could keep the target transfers safe and clean.
Tracy was amazed that she never heard the neutrino pulse that caused her sudden relocation. She always imagined it would sound like a small explosion, or at least a thunk. But there was never any sound. The truth of the matter was that the stream of neutrino’s that had interacted with her atomic structure completed their job so quickly and then vanished that her brain didn’t even detect the sudden shift. The only reason she felt sick, she had learned, was that she was extremely sensitive to the Earths magnetic field. The environment for some people was a powerful force acting upon their cycadean rhythms. Tracy was one of those people.
Being suddenly transferred to the opposite side of the country upset her sense of equilibrium and made her stomach feel nauseous. She knew it would pass but it was still uncomfortable. She glanced at her watch. Rodney had not left yet. She still had time. She paused on the opposite side of the transfer portal then righted her self and called for a ride share pod. She would have preferred to stay on the ground, but she wanted to have her part done before Rodney needed to leave. That was part of her charm, and she knew that was one of the reasons why he kept coming back to her. She got work done before he expected to be finished.
The Miami end of the transfer portal looked exactly like the Seattle end but with fewer water stains. It didn’t snow in Miami. The heat and humidity however were something else. Tracy could smell the orange blossoms and feel the dank humid air all around her. She instantly regretted dressing for Seattles cooler weather. She was going to need to shed some layers if she stayed her long. She might even need to do some clothes shopping.
This time she found ground transportation. The autonomous vehicle pulled up to her and the side split open to allow her to set in and sit down comfortably. The door sealed silently behind her and the car sped into the flow of traffic, like a blood cell joining an artery. Bumper to bumper the mostly darkened uniform public transports glided through the dense traffic coridor, the sound of the tires on pavement a gentle zooming sound underscoring all other sounds.
Tracy looked a the large towers, now mostly empty since the exodus. This dense thread of traffic stood in sharp contrast to the vast stretches of the megapolis that now stood vacant, patrolled only by drones and androids. Humanity huddled together in clustered neighborhoods. Her car eventually broke from the main flow and shot down an exit ramp, heading toward smaller and smaller streets until hers was the only vehicle on the road. She checked the confirmation. Nina Sedgewick had acknowledged her request for a meeting. Tracy directed her wrist coms to ping Ms. Sedgewick that she was minutes away.
The car pulled into a large circle drive in front of what Tracy could only describe as a mansion. She was a little shocked. Houses of that scale had not been in fashion for at least fifty years, but the Sedgewick estate - that was the best word that came to Tracy’s mind, looked pristine and state of the art. Large clear steel windows faced the huge circular drive with trees planted at perfect intervals around the smooth white marble drive. The palm trees were all precisely the same height and an array of tasteful lights illuminated each tree and the front of the house making it look more theme park then home.
The enormous two story front door swung open as Tracy’s car pulled up, opening the side facing the house as it came to a stop. Tracy stepped out just as a diminutive well dressed women - with sharp features stepped out to great her. “Ms. Ricachards?”
Tracy stuck out her hand, “Please call me Tracy. You must be Nina.”
The elegant lady nodded. Up close, Tracy suspected that Nina was a good ten years her senior, possibly twenty, but she hardly looked it from a distance. They shook hands. Ninas hand was warm and her grip firm. She looked delicate but Tracy suspected a quiet strength hid beneath that delicate exterior. “This way, “ Nina lead Tracy into the house.
“No servants?” Tracy asked.
“I don’t care for droids,” Nina said without looking back. Despite the opulence of the house, the rest was implied. Human servants were too costly. Anyone willing to do servants work was needed off world. Even if she could afford the help, she couldn’t get them without some political pull. It wasn’t that hiring servants was illegal, it was just you couldn’t get the people. No one could.
Nina lead Tracy into a spacious sitting room a heatless fire sprang up in the fire place in front of two enormous padded chairs. “I grew up in Michigan,” Nina explained. “I’ve always liked the idea of a fire this time of year, even if the weather doesn’t really call for it.” Tracy nodded. The illusion was high fidelity. She could detect no sign of pixels or render artifacts. The holographic projectors were among the best she’d ever seen. It was easy to believe the illusion. There was something comforting about the flames. She sat into one of the overstuffed chairs and leaned back.
“Mrs Sedgwick, I’m sorry to get right to business but as I’m sure you’re aware, time in missing persons cases is of the essence.”
Nina nodded. She waved her hand over her coffee table and said to the blue glowing ball that appeared, “Coffee, cream and two sugars.” She looked at Tracy. “Black tea. Iced. No sugar.” the ball pulsed and chimed. Moments later, a door popped open and the drinks appeared on the table. “No androids?”
“Automations,” Nina shrugged. “I can’t stand to have them walking around. But built into the house… doesn’t seem so bad.”
Tracy nodded. Acting like she understood. “Now back to the situation at hand. You believe your brother is missing?”
“I know he’s missing,” Nina replied. “He’s never late and he’s been gone for at least four days.”
Tracy opened her back pack and retrieved an old fashioned pad of paper and a red roller ball pen. “Do you mind if I take notes?”
Nina shook her head. “No go right ahead.”
“So he’s been missing for four days. When did you first suspect something was wrong?”
“The day he didn’t come back.”
“The next day?”
“You have to understand something, Ms. Richards, “My brother is never late. Never. Now, please tell me. How do you plan to find my brother?”
Tracy looked up at the question. For all her demure nature, she was shockingly assertive. “Well, we can’t begin any kind of investigation until we have your permission. You did report this to the insurance company correct?”
Nina paused for a moment, then replied, “That’s right. I let them know but since a week has not passed they won’t do anything.”
“How did you know you could hire your own investigation?” Tracy asked. That was unusual. Mostly it was companies that footed the bill for an investigation ahead of filing an insurance claim. Individuals rarely had the resources to pull it off.
“I called a friend. She said your man, Morris could help.”
“You do know this is a private investigation then?”
Nina blinked. “Of course I do. I’m not an idiot.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that you were,” She said trying to calm the situation, but at the same time, her sense of equilibrium started to shift. She had been in hundreds of these kinds of conversations, granted rarely with family but still, this was not going the way she expected. On a hunch, she pulled up the contract.
“Ms. Sedgewick, can you please formally authorize our investigation - then I can answer all of your questions,” Tracy pulled out a bio pad and held it up for Nina to put her finger on. Of course Tracy could have, would have answered all of her questions regardless, but her instincts told her time was of the essence.
Nina blinked, looked at her, then at the pad, then she reached out her arm and put it on the scanner. Tracy watched as the contract validated her finger print, then balked as the bioscanner beneath the finger print scanner turned suddenly red. Tracy pulled the box back, snapping it closed but she was not fast enough to protect herself from Nina’s back hand. Her arm came up inhumanly fast and caught Tracy in the side of the head knocking her out of the chair. Her tea flew across the room smashing to the floor and the synthetic on was her feat in a flash. Tracy hit the ground hard, but years of training flashed to light and she rolled deflecting most of the energy. Her nanites sprang into action, working to heal the bruise on her check and repair the cracked bone in her face.
Nina was out of her chair quick as a cat, her entire demeanor had changed from charming old southern belle to dangerous battle droid. Tracy [^1] kept rolling, pulling her arms tight against her body so dodge and deflect kicks until she bumped up against a davenport. The lamp and crystal nicknacks on top toppled to the ground, shattering on the marble floor as she cracked one of the legs in half with the impact of rolling into it. Nina flung the piece of furniture across the room with inhuman strength. Nina’s eyes practically glowed with light - her human interface systems had been replaced by something with single minded determination.
Tracy held up her arms in front of her head and squeezed her wrist comp. The ultra sonic enhanced electromagnetic pulse exploded through the room shattering glass and causing the lights to blink. Most military grade neuro-processing androids were equipped with EMP shunting capacitors to protect their core component processors, however, the addition of the high energy audio signals effectively scrambled all of their sensory inputs saturating their sensitive chips with crippling white noise. Nina became stiff as a corpse lost her balance and toppled over backward.
The explosion was little different than a flash bang for Tracy as well, but her training kicked in and she moved as quickly as she could, flipping her pen around to reveal the emergency glass breaking end and she jammed the point through the androids eye socket before it could recover. Please, please, please let that be the brain she prayed. The synthetic shuddered violently then froze, the pen sticking from its eye, and Tracy realized two things.
First, there was a very good chance the real Nina Sedgewick was dead. She cursed herself for not picking it up immediately. No androids? the yard was perfectly manicured, the house spotless. Of course the “staff” had been dismissed, or deactivated. But whoever was behind this had picked a high end, but non-military grade android. Looks mattered more than combat. The unit was dangerous, but not nearly as dangerous as a machine built to kill. This thing had been built to take a place. Only the fact that Tracy’s carried a contract signer with integrated bio-scanner had revealed the ruse. No insurance agent would have caught it.
She knew she didn’t have much time. Whoever had placed the droid, would be monitoring it, and would like send backup. She needed to get out. But, she also wanted to check on the sister. She was tempted to try and pull the records from the felled droid but knew better. She wouldn’t have enough time. She pulled herself to her feet, and headed deeper into the house. She had run countless urban ops during the time she had trained with Rod. It would take a little luck, but if her instincts were to be believed, she would find a basement… there. Behind the master staircase on the way to the kitchen she found a locked door. Given that this was a luxury home and not a prison, she trusted that the locks were more ornate than functional. This would lead down to a play room, not a vault or gun safe. That might be down there, but the top door would not be the heavy lock, and she was right. One swift kick, throwing all her weight into it shattered the particle frame. For once her excess weight came in handy.
Feeling the tingle of nervous energy, she was unarmed, she plunged into the dark hole behind the door, snapping on the lights as she descended. She reached the massive game room at the bottom of the stairs and the lights came on. Up ended and shoved out of the way furniture revealed a path to a back bedroom, a lower master suite. This door was not locked. Tracy flung it open and found two adults lying motionless on the bed. She rushed over and checked for breathing. They were alive. Drugged, but alive.
Without hesitation, she dialed 911 from her phone. She wasn’t sure the signal would get through, but she couldn’t wait around to find out if the bad guys decided to come back. She untied the couple, then raced back through the game room. A down stairs door was her new target. She opened, leaving it wide then headed out across the golf course sized back lawn. She ducked toward the shrubbery, to break up the line of sight then made a bee line for the neighbors yard. She glanced back in time to see what looked like flames in the kitchen. The droid had been set on fire. She considered going back, but then decided her best bet was to keep moving. When she was out of sight and earshot of the house, she pulled up her coms and checked - surprisingly the contract had validated. Whoever had cloned Nina had done a thorough job. The agreement immediately registered, with the Licensing company. She recorded a quick summary for Rodney but the slug cut her short of hitting send. The needle of white hot metal traveling at God’s own speed knocked her forward and smashed her into the stone wall bordering the property.
One minute she was running through the shrubs, the next moment she was flying and then darkness.
As Rodney reached the spire, his a contract notification chimed on his phone. Nina Sedgewick had validated the contract. Rodney paused. That’s weird he thought, looking at the notification. The contract had been validated, but nothing else. Tracy was usually so reliable in sending a thorough report. He refreshed the notification system but nothing else came through. He puzzled at the uncharacteristic work, but didn’t have long to think about it because when the elevator door opened, he looked up to catch a boot in the face.
Years of training was barely enough to prevent Rodney from the dark brown leather toe cap hitting him square in the mouth. He snapped his head back just in time for the ankle high work boot to catch him on the side of his head, his nanites flashed red across his inner vision numbing the pain almost instantly. Rodney punched up hard with a left fore arm, then turned kicking out to try and dislodge his attackers plant foot. The man spun out of the kick, narrowly avoiding Rodney’s counter attack. While the move was successful, it was not graceful. Rodney couldn’t tell if his attacker was surprised or not because he wore a flight helmet with the visor reflective visor down, he’s seen that outfit before. In the detention center. Rodney dropped into a roll and threw a shoulder up into the man’s crotch. He countered by crashing his arms down on Rodney’s back, but not before Rodney managed to get up into him, blunting the force of the blow. He straightened his legs, lifting up into the man and they both crashed into the wall. Rashad had the advantage of wearing a helmet. Also Rodney had no idea what other augments the man might have. But he threw his full weight into the man’s stomach as they crashed into the panel, causing it to flex and Rodney heard a groan. Okay then, no body armor augments.
Now the fight turned into a grapple. The man reached for Rodney’s face, but he expected that, and twisted pulling up on the man’s leg to keep him unbalanced. Rodney knew if he could get him to the floor, it would be over. Rashad seemed to realize this and changed strategies, reaching for something, a knife? He wouldn’t have a gun, not here, but even if he did, to use it here would be suicide. Perhaps a stinger? Rodney wasn’t waiting to find out. He kicked out the other man’s leg then fell over backward as the man pulled a black baton from his jacket pocket. They crashed to the floor and Rodney arched his back flipping the man over and then getting behind him. The man pressed a button on the baton and started flayling about. Blue extricity arced from the tip of the rod, but Rodney was focused on finishing this. He pulled his arm around the man’s neck, under his helmet and began to squeeze. Rashad tried to hit Rodney with the black baton but the angle didn’t let him get the tip on him. He tried to switch the grip, but by then it was too late. Rodney cranked on his neck, chocking off all hair. The man twisted widely to no avail. “Drop it,” Rodney whispered in his ear. The man resisted a moment more. “Drop it or you wake up with a helluva headache.”. The man stiffened, then let the baton drop. Rodney held him a moment longer, then released the man pushing him away. He was the first to his feet. He didn’t dare pick up the baton, it was no doubt keyed to its owner. He kicked it across the lobby.
The man in the helmet climbed awkwardly to his feet. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded, his voice modulated by the helmet speakers.
“You can drop the act Rashad,” Rodney said standing up to his full height. “I saw you in the detention center. Didn’t think we’d meet again this soon.”
“Why are you following me?” Rashad demanded.
Rodney motioned to the helmet. “Ditch the hat and we can talk.”
Rashad hesitated, then reached under the helmet, pressing on two hidden buttons and the shell widened letting him pull it off easily. Rodney found himself staring at a dark skinned man of Pakistani descent. He skin the color of milk chocolate, which made his green eyes even more dazzling in contrast. His short curly black hair framed his rugged features. The man was not tall, but neither was he short. The ideal size for a pilot. By military standards Rodney was awkwardly big. Rashad was the prototypical size for a single our double pilot craft. Thin and muscular, Rodney judged him to be in his late thirties.
“Why are you following me?” Rashad demanded. “Who sent you?”
“I’m not following you,” Rodney said. “But I did want to talk to you,” He added.
“Why?”
“Because I’m trying to find a missing executive and his family.”
Rashad’s expression changed, but Rodney could not tell what it meant. “You’re a reclaimer” He said.
“License 780912,” Rodney confirmed. “Vic’s sister hired me a few hours ago to look into his disappearance. She didn’t want to wait for insurance.”
“And what does that have to do with me?” Rashad seemed to relax.
“I don’t know exactly,” Rodney admitted. “Just playing a hunch. My guy changed jump coordinates at the last second, kind of like you did. Only he got away with it. You got caught. I was wondering if they were some how related?”
Rashad seemed to consider that. “You’re looking for the Sunshine Expanse. Geoff Stikine’s ship?”
Rodney nodded.
“Maybe we can help each other,” Rashad said after a moment. “I realize we got off to a bit of bad start there.”
“I’ve met people under better circumstances,” Rodney admitted.
“We don’t have much time. You’re not the only one looking for that ship.”
Rodney raised an eyebrow. “You mind expanding on that?”
“Not here, not now. Do you have a place we can talk?”
“Where’s your ship?” Rodney asked, knowing full well it was still in impound.
“My ship is… unavailable at the moment,” Rashad suddenly seemed almost enthusiastic at the idea of meeting Rodney. “You have a ship though right? Here on the platform?”
Rodney nodded. “She’s fueled and ready to go.”
Rashad nodded. “Then we can definitely help each other.”
“We can?”
“Yes, let’s get to your ship and I can explain everything.”
“And why would I want to do that?”
“Aside from the fact that I can help you find Stikine, and I can make it worth your while? Experience tells me it will be good to have an ally when the other people looking for that ship show up. As good as you are in a fight, I’m not sure you’d be able to handle them without me.