11. Chapter 11

Chapter eleven

I t took two standard weeks to get to Olympus from Paradise. They could have pushed the engines and gone quite a bit faster, but Jezria didn't feel any need to rush. They'd still have nearly three weeks on Olympus, getting people and equipment loaded onto the colony ship Neptune before that final momentous departure.

The Neptune was an upgrade from the one the expedition had been planning on using, a third again as large, with space for as many as ten thousand people. Garrett had read enough of his contract to know that in reality, they were only looking at about half that number, but it was still mind-bogglingly huge when one considered that Pandora was to be, in essence, a colony of naturals.

Five thousand people, many of whom wouldn't be able to use autodocs or regenerative medicine, people who could look forward to perhaps a century of life before they died … It was too fucking depressing to contemplate.

The Neptune was an impressively large ship, even sitting in dry dock in the capital city of Athens. The control tower directed their convoy to land their personal ships in the Neptune 's private shuttle bay. They set down, disembarked, and Garrett inhaled appreciatively. Yes, there was the smell of rocket fuel, but underneath that was the sweetness of hibiscus and native wanlia in a million different hybrid colors and forms. The founders of Olympus had gotten rather carried away with their landscaping, but the place did look and smell great.

Jezria clearly had her hands full with the arrival, official-looking people practically lining up to shove their information tablets in her face. One of her staffers made his way over to where Garrett was lounging against his ship and extended a hand. "If you'll come with me, Doctor Caractacus, I'll be happy to show you where you'll be staying on board the ship."

"That would be lovely," Garrett said with a smile, enjoying the sudden flush of color in the man's cheeks. Jezria had warned him not to tease her people, but it was hard to resist. He pushed off the hull and followed the man toward the nearest lift. "You're Steven Miyakawa, right?"

"Yes, sir. You can call me Steven." They stepped into the lift, and after Steven announced their identities and destination, began to rise. One of the walls was transparent, and Garrett examined the details of the shuttle bay with interest. Apart from the metallic hues that were expected from the amount of hardware they had in there, the color scheme was light blue and tan; bland, inoffensive colors that Garrett assumed had been chosen to engender calm in stressed passengers.

The journey to Pandora itself wouldn't take more than a month, but once they were there, the colonists would have to construct their new homes before they could move off the ship, which would be a process of months for everyone, even with the help of machines and modular housing. Calm would be a handy thing to have even if it was just a side effect of boredom.

The lift kept rising. Garrett glanced over at Steven. "Which level are we headed to?"

"Thirteenth level, sir." As he said it they pulled to a smooth stop, and the door opened. "This is where most of the officers as well as senior staff will be housed." He handed a folder over to Garrett. "Shipboard implant access hasn't been turned on yet, so we're doing everything in hard copy for now. This folder contains your keys and your ID, which is programmed with all of the access codes you'll need to get into the labs and other secure zones you're cleared for. Because the ship is transporting naturals, there are a number of specialized biomedical devices that require extra security with storage, so unfortunately, it will take a little longer than usual to get to and from your workplace."

Made sense. "Which level is the lab on?"

"Tenth level, sir. All of B Wing."

"Good to know." Garrett glanced inside the folder.

"If you'd like, I can have your things sent up from your ship."

"That would be fine." Garrett recited the alphanumeric code that would open the hatch. "Everything is boxed and labeled." He'd had a lot of free time on his hands over the past two weeks.

"I'll get it taken care of, sir. Your quarters are down the hall and through the doors to C Wing."

"Thank you, Steven." Garrett stepped out of the lift and checked the directions on the wall, then started walking. Five minutes later, he reached C Wing and apartment 1369, and he resolved that the first thing he was doing after he got settled in was memorizing where the damn lifts were and finding a closer one.

His living quarters themselves were fairly standard. There was a large sitting room with a couch and an entertainment unit, connected to a kitchen with a few appliances in case he was feeling handy, and a line to the mobile mess hall if he wasn't. There was a leaflet with food choices lying on the counter. Garrett skimmed it briefly, then put it back and walked into the other half of the apartment. His bedroom at least had a big bed but very little closet space. The bathroom had an actual tub, but it was so small he'd have to bend himself in half to get wet all at once.

He stared at his less-than-impressed reflection in the mirror. "Wonderful." And all of it in blue and beige.

Well, that much at least he could change. Garrett scouted around until he found the color controls located behind a picture of a vase of lilies. He smirked at the attempt to enforce uniformity by whomever management was, then manipulated the controls until his walls were the color of a red sunrise and his floor was midnight blue. He glanced around, satisfied for now, then lifted his hand from the control panel. The colors shifted back to blue and beige immediately.

"Oh, come on." It was like having a parental control on your life. Garrett modified the colors again, lifted his hand, and … blue and beige.

"Hell with this." Reaching into his pocket, he took out a flat multi-tool, pulled up the screwdriver, and in moments had the casing off the control unit and was rewiring it to ignore its preprogrammed functions. At least the wiring was good; it was the kind you didn't need actual solder for, you could just pick and stick it together how you liked. He was almost done when he heard a knock on the door.

"Security, sir."

Garrett blinked, then laughed out loud. Fiddling with the controls had alerted security? Oh, they must be really fucking bored over there. "Come on in."

The door opened, and a young woman in a dark-gray uniform entered the room. She was wearing a gray beret over short brown hair and had a slightly apprehensive look on her button-nosed face. "Sir? Your alarm was activated. Are you … what are you doing?"

"I'm saving myself from paralyzing ennui," Garrett replied. He shifted the walls back to sunset red. "This is nicer, don't you think?"

"Sir, the color choice is preprogrammed and cannot be changed except with specific contract stipulation."

Garrett dropped his hand. "Are you serious? This is actually in my contract?"

"Unless you modified that clause before signing it," the woman said, her tone slightly apologetic, "I'm afraid it has to stay."

"Un-fucking-believable."

"Sorry, sir."

At least she did sound sorry. "That's fine, Officer …"

"Brady."

"Officer Brady. I won't attempt to suborn any more impressionable walls." He looked around and sighed. "I see myself drinking a lot in this room."

"Alcohol consumption is also restricted," she added helpfully.

"Naturally. Of course, it is. How silly of me to contemplate otherwise." Liquor, and a lot of it, would be bought before this ship took off. And tapestries to cover the fucking walls. Maybe he could renegotiate this part of his contract with Jezria … No, knowing her, she'd just laugh at him and say, "I told you so."

"Well. I think I'm done introducing myself to home and hearth." He screwed the casing back onto the control panel and replaced the picture. "Do you know where the nearest lift is?"

"Yes, sir."

"Would you mind showing me? I want to find the labs without running a marathon."

Officer Brady smiled. "I'd be happy to show you the quickest way."

"Lead on, then." Get me out of here. Chapter Twelve

Working in a lab was just like working in an office in some ways. There weren't cubicles, but there were places where people were expected to keep their things, boundaries between projects and equipment and space used depending on the scientist's standing and the importance of their work. A person needed to be polite, moving into another person's space. You didn't just lay your hands all over their bio-reactor; you asked politely if you could examine the slides. Even your superiors played nice before they delved into your experiment.

At least, that was how things normally went.

Garrett was escorted across half the damn ship by Officer Brady, spent another five minutes going through a ludicrous number of scans before getting into the central lab, and was then treated to the shrill scream of metal on metal, highlighted by an irritated alto. A lovely redheaded woman who looked like she'd just swallowed something indescribably bitter was unclamping and moving a laser setup of some kind and haranguing the poor man standing a few feet back from her as she did so.

"—far too expensive for you to screw them up by running your heat source too close to the gels! How many times do I have to tell you, Alberts?"

"Andrews," the man offered quietly.

"Whatever. Did I or did I not tell you this yesterday?"

"I was going to wait until the experiment was done before moving the equipment. I'll have to recalibrate everything and—"

"And what? Give me your substandard data and ruin countless other experiments in the future because you were too lazy to keep your heat source from fouling the gels? Oh, yes, that makes perfect sense." She stopped pushing the massive laser and wheeled on the man. "I want your experiment up and running with proper calibrations before you leave this lab today. No excuses! If it takes all night, good—that may teach you a lesson about disregarding the guidelines of this lab in favor of expediency."

Garrett moved a few more feet into the room, and the woman whirled on him like a dervish. The other man, Andrews, shrank back to his equipment and kept his head down as the woman found a new target.

"How the hell did you get in here?"

"Teleportation."

She blinked at him. "What?"

"Actually, I used the doors." Obviously, his snarky tone suggested.

"Yes, but how did you get the clearance to make it through the doors?"

"By being hired as an employee and given a card."

"What?" She looked him up and down scornfully. "Please." She stalked over and thrust a hand out for his badge. He gave it to her calmly and glanced around, meeting a few people's incredulous gazes and smiling.

"Garrett Carac … Cataract … whatever. You're my climatologist?"

Garrett arched an eyebrow. "You're my boss?"

"Doctor Martina Sims, head scientist and engineer, and yes, I am your boss," she snapped at him. "Even though I didn't hire you. I don't appreciate having pretty-boy dilettantes shoehorned into my operation just because their daddies are friends with the morons on high."

Damn. This woman had to be a hell of an engineer for Jezria to tolerate her. Garrett wanted to tell her exactly what she could do with her operation, but his innate diplomat reminded him that he'd signed a contract, he was here for three years, and he had to find a way to get along with Doctor Martina Sims. "Where will I be working?"

Doctor Sims sighed loudly and handed his badge back. "Over here." She turned on her heel and led him down the length of the lab, past a dozen staring eyes, and over to a small table. A ridiculously small table, with a ridiculously antique climate-modeling unit collecting dust on top of it. "Right there," she stated and folded her arms challengingly.

Clearly no one had challenged her lately. Garrett, however, was about to do just that because there was no way in hell he was working like this. "Impossible."

"What?"

"You couldn't accurately model an asteroid's climate with this piece of shit, much less a system of the size and scope of Pandora. Unless you want to set me up to fail and by doing so prove to your superiors just how incompetent a manager you are, while potentially putting the entire expedition at risk, you're going to get me a better setup."

"Do you have any idea how much those cost?" she yelled, gesticulating angrily. "I have to supply equipment for physicists, chemists, biologists, and the medical team is constantly stealing from our budget, and I have to deal with idiots wasting gels, and issues of stockpiling, and—"

"If you want accurate climate modeling that could save hundreds of lives and millions of credits, not to mention lives, you'll get me a better system," Garrett interrupted. "It's that simple. You can't hamstring a lab that will need to operate successfully in the Fringe by trying to save money at the outset."

Doctor Sims stared at Garrett. He stared back. She tapped her foot. He politely stifled a yawn behind his hand.

"I might be able to afford an M-series. Older M-series, mind you."

"I want a T-series, at least, with all the attachments. Soil analyzer, water analyzer, the works."

"Ridiculous," she scoffed. "That's half the budget for this entire lab! P-series, with the soil analyzer."

"S-series, with all the attachments."

"S-series, but no attachments. You can use the geologist's analyzers."

"Those will have a completely different operating system, and it will be a huge pain in the ass to transmit data between the two. Unless you have a programmer on board who's fluent in both languages and a genius at making them work together or the time to train a custom AI … no? I didn't think so."

She stared. He stared. She sighed. "Fine. S-series with attachments, but you'd better be worth the money, Doctor Caratac … whatever your name is."

"Just call me Garrett," he encouraged. "Much easier." Doctor Sims rolled her eyes and turned to go. "And I want a better chair."

She spun back. "Your chair is fine!"

"It's a stool. No back, no arms. No support."

"Would you prefer a bench? Because I've got a limited budget, which, thanks to your extravagance, is now even smaller, and you seem to expect me to work miracles with it."

Garrett sighed internally. "Do you mind if I bring in my own, then?"

"Oh." She seemed flustered for a moment. "No. That's fine. As long as you're paying for it, and you aren't bringing in any electronics that will distort the signals of our equipment. And absolutely nothing with an entertainment unit. When you're here, I expect you to be working."

"Not a problem," Garrett promised her. Doctor Sims nodded, spun around again, and stalked down the aisle, muttering to herself even as she scolded other scientists for being in her way.

A short, plump man sitting at the table next to Garrett leaned over and muttered, "Do you think you could wrangle me a new computer?"

The woman next to him smacked his shoulder. "Shekar! He's not here to handle the dragon lady for all of us. Although," she batted her eyelashes theatrically, "you are my hero." She held out her hand. "Lila Englander. I'm the geologist whose analyzers she was offering up."

"Shekar Pradani," the man said. "Mathematician. I'll help you with your modeling if you need me to; I have some good programs for that sort of thing."

"Thank you," Garrett replied. They all shook hands, and then he pulled back a bit, looked around the room at the different areas, all partitioned off with glaring warnings, all apparently fair game to the wrath of Doctor Sims. "Is she always like this?"

"Doctor Sims is a little high-strung," Lila said diplomatically.

Shekar snorted. "She's driven off three staff members in two weeks. We'll be lucky if the lab isn't pushed to rebellion before we get underway."

"She's not so bad when she's back on Pandora," Lila insisted. "Her husband is a geneticist with the expedition, but he stayed behind to run the home lab while she came here and organized the new arrivals. Frankly, it would probably have been better if they'd switched, but she's got seniority on him, so it's her job to do it. He calms her down."

"Then all we have to do is survive the trip to Pandora, and we're home free, huh?"

There was a crash at the far end of the lab, followed by a yell of, "Alberts!"

"Wonderful," Garrett said flatly. "I'm sure that thought will be very comforting over the next two months of our lives."

It wasn't very comforting for the rest of the afternoon, however, and Garrett remained stubbornly uncomforted when he had dinner that night with Jezria. "You could have warned me you have a harpy for your head scientist."

"Martina is an excellent researcher," Jezria said as she tucked into the bland, colorless casserole the ship's nutritional program had supplied them for dinner. Getting used to the food they'd be eating for the next three years wasn't a bad idea, but Garrett preferred to put it off in favor of flavor while he could.

"Well, she's a shit administrator," Garrett said, sipping at his wine. "This is good. Did Claudia give you this?"

"She did."

"Did you bring enough to last you a while? I hear our alcohol consumption is going to be restricted."

"Not just restricted but monitored," Jezria said.

Garrett put down his glass a bit too heavily. "What? Why?"

"Because I don't want any of my colonists so inebriated that it affects their health or their ability to work," she explained. "Think what you like about Pandora, Garrett, but this planet represents a new life to thousands of people. It's a daunting undertaking for all of us, and there will be enough stresses on folk without the damage that can be done by self-medicating with copious amounts of alcohol or drugs. Especially since so many colonists are naturals.

"There is no rapid detox for a natural, no magic pill for them to swallow that cures a hangover. While we're settling people into an alien environment that they're going to have to make into a home, they're going to obey some fairly draconian rules because they agreed to, to make the transition easier on all of us. You agreed to it as well," she reminded him.

"I know," he said sourly. "And may I just say how much I loathe the color tan? Beige, sand, dun, whatever you want to call it. It is possibly the most boring nonentity of a color in existence."

"Loathe it all you like," she said with a gracious smile. "Just learn to live with it."