Chapter 3

Chapter 3

GDAT 3235.015

K atalin stood behind her designed-to-impress executive desk, arms crossed and feet firmly planted as she met the fulminating gaze from the lead scientist standing on the other side.

“It was an honest mistake. We accidentally set off the alarms, so we were trying to silence them.” Hei Zhenzhu, a volatile, Mandarin-accented woman who wore a flowing white coat that looked like an academic graduation robe, disdainfully pointed a thumb at the stoic man standing several steps back and to the side. “It was your moonfaced moron who triggered the emergency blast doors. We had everything under control.”

It took a considerable amount of Katalin’s limited supply of restraint to keep her voice even and firm instead of inviting the scientific team director to eject herself into the void. “Security Specialist Jerally is the only reason you’re still alive to stand here and yell at me. His quick thinking saved the whole science section. Your impatient research ship pilot tried to circumvent docking protocols and got stuck between the blast doors. Trust me when I tell you that death from explosive decompression isn’t pretty.”

Hei Zhenzhu’s chin rose. “Like I said, an honest mistake.” Her imperious tone probably impressed her people, especially since she dictated who got scientific participation credit and who didn’t.

Katalin let it glide right by. “Well, in that case, your staff clearly needs remedial training in station safety protocols. I’ll schedule you all for the full safety certification training. Until then, none of your team is authorized to operate so much as an antigrav loading platform without station security personnel supervision.” The station’s budget could stand a few hours of billable overtime from the security team to make it happen.

Hei Zhenzhu’s face suffused with a rush of color. “That’s a twenty-day session. We can’t pause our experiments in mid-cycle.” Her fists landed on her hips as her jaw jutted forward. “We’re on a schedule!”

“In that case, I’ll authorize the fourteen-day session, but your staff will only pass the certification tests if they aren’t distracted. We will leave the emergency doors closed until then. That way, your staff won’t be wasting time in Crossroads Hall. with a schedule that important, I’m sure no one will mind eating mealpacks in their quarters while they study.”

“You can’t do this!” she spluttered.

Katalin raised an eyebrow and merely stared at the woman while contemplating which airlock to introduce her to.

Hei Zhenzhu finally seemed to realize she’d lost this round. “We will accept the twenty-day session.” With a glare meant to terrorize minions, she added, “The CGC Science Council will hear about this.” Her robes swished dramatically as she whirled around and made her exit. It might have been more effective if the well-padded flooring hadn’t absorbed the sound of her stomps.

Katalin thumbed the control to seal the door, in case the woman wanted a rematch.

After a long moment, Luntian Jerally busted out with a laugh. “You’d have made a fine Jumper.” His posh Albion accent hinted at interesting origins, but she wasn’t even sure English was his first language. He also spoke traditional Mandarin, the former lingua franca of the galaxy, and several other common languages with easy fluency.

She chuckled, ignoring her stomach’s fluttering from the flush of adrenaline. “Nah, I’m too short and timid. Thank you for not quitting when she threatened to have you dismantled for spare parts.”

Luntian’s military-issue but older cybernetic hips and legs gave him a mechanically stiff gait and his cybernetic left eye glinted oddly in certain lights. Gloves and long sleeves covered the horrific scars that marred his upper torso. A week at half-decent bodyshop in the galaxy could have erased them, but he refused, claiming bad experiences in the past. To her way of thinking, cybernetics should be a sign of honor, meaning the person had put their life on the line in defense of others. Luntian had obviously paid a heavy price for his service, whenever and wherever it had been.

He waved away her words. “I’ve heard worse. Will you make them do the training, then?”

“Hell, yes. They’re lucky I’m not banning them from the station.” She relaxed her fighting stance, as she liked to think of it, and sat on the corner of her desk, slipping her trembling fingers under her armpits for warmth. “But once I extract reimbursement from their university sponsor for the damage to the docking doors and the extra charges, all bets are off. Are you still willing to keep them in line until then?”

Luntian shrugged. “Sure. The Empress and a couple of her buzzies think they’re the galaxy’s gift to humankind, but the rest of them mean no harm.”

“Thank you.” If he hadn’t been there, the station would be dealing with a serious accident on top of everything else. “I’m sending you a bonus.”

His expression turned forbidding. “Just doing my job.”

Damnit, she forgot about his hardline stance on earning money instead of accepting handouts. She’d offended him instead of rewarding him as she’d intended. Thinking fast, she added, “It’s not for you, it’s for Sierrho. She won’t let me replace that salvaged all-in-one health-hazard she calls a cooker in her apartment. Buy her something better and tell her you found it in an abandoned shipment on the station, or you confiscated it from the asshole scientists because they keep burning popcorn and setting off the fire alarms.”

His shoulders relaxed as a thoughtful look spread across his face.

Guilt needled her for exploiting one of the few chinks in his armor, but she refused to let it change her mind.

“It would have to be old, or she’ll twig to it.”

“Get a good one and beat it up or something. You’ll get the funds today. Ping me if you need more.”

“Right, then. I’ll open Yellow Sector’s emergency doors.” A crafty smile lit up his face. “Maybe I’ll borrow Lady Peach for a little stroll through their quarters to make sure nothing else was damaged. Hei Zhenzhu is terrified of her.”

“Good idea. Can’t be too careful.” Katalin wished she had Vellek’s gift of keeping a straight face when up to mischief.

Luntian stayed long enough to brief her on the dock repairs that would be needed, then left to go back to work.

Katalin sat in her well-padded office chair, stretching her legs out and taking three slow, deep breaths in an effort to relax. Confrontation was her least favorite part of the station manager job. It had taken years, decades even, to learn how to fight. First she’d had to unlearn the bad habits of freezing or hiding when her toxic family had occasionally remembered she was there. After escaping, she’d had to train herself to pick her battles and use her strengths to help her win. But conflict still took a lot out of her.

She glanced at the time display on her wall and groaned. It was nearly quitting time, but there was so much left to do. Passenger and shipping traffic surges, lease renewals, long-scheduled comms upgrades, and now planning a drill for space station atmosphere loss because the narrowly averted accident reminded her the station was behind in all the safety drills. Oh, and lest she forget, fending off the flurry of outrageous demands from Rikenna, the new acting CPS Agent-in-Charge. Jensuradi had at least kept his ridiculous requests to once every ten or fifteen days.

Rikenna’s demands would have driven her to drink if it hadn’t been for Vellek’s detailed understanding of CPS rules and the limits of an acting agent-in-charge’s authority. She’d gratefully accepted his offer to review all communications with the CPS staff and provide suggested responses. She didn’t know if his knowledge came from his deep dive into CPS records or his life before the station. At this point, she didn’t really care.

That reminded her that on top of everything else, she was still supposed to be investigating Jensuradi’s death. It had been four days since finding the body. She didn’t have much to show for her efforts. In a small bit of luck, the Lumen Roca police weren’t scheduled to arrive for another three days at the soonest.

By mentioning the victim’s name during her regular interactions with various people, she’d discovered that a respectable number of people on the station were unrespectably joyous about Jensuradi’s demise. The man couldn’t read a room. He’d been free with accusations and quantum-quick to take offense. More importantly, she strongly suspected he’d employed his minder talents and his access to CPS records as levers. His goal hadn’t been money. He extorted business information that he couldn’t force the station share with the CPS. She’d written the prohibitive policy herself and Starn had been gleefully added it to the CPS’s lease renewal eight years ago, right before Jensuradi arrived.

She knew part of the reason he wanted the data. Despite its isolated location in deep space, Starlane Crossroads had modern intergalactic comms relays and got the same galactic newstrends as the rest of the civilized planets. Several standard months ago, the CPS had completely clustered a hasty reorganization effort by ordering several million staffers to move to new divisions and duty stations at a moment’s notice. Instead of following orders, whole megafreighter-loads of employees and their families had instead deserted their posts and fled.

Jensuradi wanted to do his part in bringing them to heel. He’d told her as much when he cited an obscure and conveniently vague CGC regulation to give her cover for making a policy exception and handing over daily shipment and passenger data, confident she’d cooperate. When she refused, he’d said he understood the station’s refusal to check the station’s personnel and tenants for unlisted minders, since registration was still voluntary in the CGC. But surely she would agree that the malcontented minders who’d left the CPS without authorization were more than just military deserters, they were a dangerous threat to galactic peace as a whole and specifically to the non-minders on her station.

She’d refused again, then politely reminded him of the contract clauses that said she could terminate the military’s lease with ten standard days’ notice and could evict individual guests, such as ordinary CPS agents, by way of the next ship leaving the station.

He hadn’t taken it well. In retaliation, he’d tried to spread rumors that she was a corrupt and amoral hidden minder herself. The accusations hadn’t landed, but they did sow discontentment among a few people who already chafed at station rules. Ordinarily, the rumors would have faded in time. Unfortunately, time was a commodity in short supply.

As usual, the aftermath of adrenalin left her cold. Warm food would help. Even better, she believed another hug or two, or ten, from Vellek would fix pretty much everything. In the security of the impressive station manager’s office that she’d grown to feel comfortable in, and in the privacy of her own thoughts, she could admit that.

She’d heard him described as an ice king and remote, but she found him sexy. Always had. She’d only felt mildly guilty about her attraction, even when Starn was home between adventures. Her husband had been unabashedly up front about his inability to be sexually monogamous, even though he was deeply in love with her. She had loved him enough in return to accept that part of him.

However, because she herself was a one-at-a-time kind of person, she’d only ever admired other daydream lovers over the years from afar, never up close. After the accident, she and Vellek had shared many meals out of expediency during meetings to pick up the reins of running the station. They’d since settled into less frequent but more regular standing arrangement, usually in restaurants or in her old assistant manager’s office when discussing sensitive matters.

Numbing grief had kept her in stasis for a solid two years, but Vellek’s steady, determined strength and lively intellect kept her present and looking forward to their next meeting. Just when she’d gotten brave enough to show him her personal interest in him, he’d pulled away. That frelling Okebaan notice had convinced her she’d waited too long wasted her chances with him.

The hug four nights ago had given her hope, except she was thirty years out of practice on how to initiate an intimate relationship. Not that she’d been skilled to begin with. One-off hot-connects, even in professional joyhouses, never interested her and her commtech job had kept her constantly moving until she met Starn.

She laughed at her foolish thoughts. Nothing was happening that night, regardless. It was his weekly evening work shift, a schedule he’d instituted to save his three deputy security chiefs from having to pull double shifts. And her usual night to have dinner with Sierrho, which she’d instituted to make sure her best friend ate good food on a regular basis.

Though her sense of responsibility pushed her to review her priority action list one more time, she ignored it. Barring disasters, the dozen pending issues could wait until morning. Living by herself again had brought home that she needed breaks and social connections with friends to keep herself sane. Otherwise, she was liable to take on too many responsibilities so she wouldn’t have to think or remember.

***

Sierrho sat next to Katalin on the comfortable couch that took up the shorter wall of the sitting area in Katalin’s apartment.

The expensive meal from a new chef had been worth every credit. Sierrho’s day had been even worse than Katalin’s, so they’d both deserved the indulgence.

The salty-sweet scent of the spiced gourd custard still lingered in the room, reminding her of the holidays. Starlane Crossroads operated on standard Galactic Date and Time and had no planetary events such as seasons or solstices to observe. The entrepreneurial original owners made up their own celebrations to encourage the shiploads of passengers to spend money. They’d since become cherished traditions to the residents.

Quiet satisfaction washed over Katalin as she sprawled a little to accommodate her full stomach. The apartment she’d once shared with Starn had become fully hers. Well, almost. Two bedrooms were still empty, and a third contained crates of office artifacts and artist supplies to go through. She was still finding odd things hidden in the back of cabinets and closets. But the central living area was now cozy and inviting, with touchable textures and soothing colors, with bright spots for interest. Ambient seashore tide sounds played in the background. The couch she and Sierrho occupied could easily double as a bed, though the sleeper would have to share it with a feline or three.

Soft and snuggly Froggie had insinuated herself under Katalin’s arm to nestle herself along Katalin’s thigh the moment she sat. Skyhunter dozed on the highest of the new padded shelves on the wall, which Katalin had asked tall Luntian to help install just for that purpose. Paru purred quietly on Sierrho’s lap, accepting occasional slow strokes along her wooly, wiry fur. The mixed-breed cat had come a long way from starting life as a scrawny, half-feral kitten accidentally left on a trader dock. At least, that had been Sierrho’s story at the time. Katalin had learned it was better not to ask questions if she didn’t want to know the answer.

“Who is on kennel duty this evening?” Katalin knew most of the regular people who helped care for the pets when Sierrho wasn’t there, but night shift volunteers were hard to keep. Some because they couldn’t handle the schedule or the work, and some because their family or employer disapproved.

“Maksym. He’s got more sense that adults twice his age, and definitely more heart. It wouldn’t surprise me if he turns out to be an animal affinity. Or maybe a wide-range empath.” She frowned. “I wish I knew what his aunt and uncle think about minders. I know the CPS can’t compel anyone on the station to send their kids in for testing, but if his aunt and uncle choose to make him to go, it might change his homelife forever.”

“Yes,” agreed Katalin, “and maybe not for the better.” It had been that way in far too many families, including her own. “Not to speak ill of the unlamented dead, but I’m glad Jensuradi isn’t around anymore to stir up anti-minder prejudice.”

“I know. It’s a wonder he didn’t die from internalized hatred decades ago.” She made a rude noise. “Maybe he self-terminated and set it up to frame the station in revenge.”

“Interesting idea.” She considered it for a moment, then shook her head. “Too proud, I think.” Vellek’s opinion was that Jensuradi’s life goal was to be extraordinary, and it fit.

Sierrho snorted with laughter. “Not as bad as that entitled jackhole Agent Rikenna. He can’t go five minutes without mentioning his glorious First Wave Founder family, as if it wasn’t already bankrupt long before the Central League fell. And Rikenna’s fake Albion accent is ridiculously bad. Luntian winces every time he hears it.”

Katalin felt like space station managers shouldn’t encourage gossip, but she and Sierrho both were likely to be prime suspects once the police investigators arrived. At this point, any information about Jensuradi and his coworkers was fair game in her book.

“I know what you mean. I never met anyone who was so obsessed with famous people. You’ve seen him when we get the occasional celebrity passenger in the station. He’s all over them like anti-riot sticky mist.” More than once, she and Vellek had to authorize extra security for VIPs to keep Agent Rikenna at bay. It occurred to her as she spoke that his obnoxious behavior might be a cover for being in places where he’d ordinarily have no business. Just like Jensuradi had no business in the maintenance skin.

Sierrho’s smile turned sharp. “Maybe Rikenna wants to have celebrity sex with them.”

Katalin gave a mock shudder in response. If there was such a thing as negative sexual magnetism, then Rikenna had it. “I think that’d be more in Agent Perlabeaux’s starlane. I doubt she ever met a new chem or sex partner she wouldn’t try, but she moves on pretty fast. Nothing wrong with that, though it seems to get in the way of doing her job. I think half the station isn’t speaking with her.”

“I heard that Rikenna and Perlabeaux got assigned here at the same time and started a hot-connect affair within a week.”

Katalin blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Supposedly the Rikenna-Perlabeaux alliance was heavy for about six standard months, then blew out like a volcano. Now they deeply detest each other but still have to work together.”

That might explain why Rikenna seemed to go out of his way to stomp all over Perlabeaux’s job with gravity boots. Thankfully, Vellek told her she could safely stall on any CPS requests about “the Jensuradi matter” until the Lumen Roca LEOs arrived to take over the investigation. Otherwise, Katalin would have been sorely tempted to reply that, despite the best efforts of the few Ghost Life believers on the station, Jensuradi was still dead.

Sierrho mimed raising a glass and gave a cheerful grin. “Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving pair of jackholes.”

Katalin smiled back, but not without a private pang of sympathy. She and Starn had been lucky to develop a deeply loving friendship that lasted long after the delightful delirium of passion had quieted. It gave her pause about her wishful thinking about a liaison with Vellek. If their relationship failed, she’d be devastated if they couldn’t go back to being friends. Then she’d be truly alone.

Froggie gave a raspy little meow and buried her face in Katalin’s hand.

Once again, the cats reminded her to stay in the moment instead of one of the dark futures her mind invented. “Yes, your majesty, you’re quite right. I should be petting you.” Froggie’s purr swelled as Katalin rubbed the cat’s soft ears.

Sierrho crossed her leg, earning her a meep of protest from Paru. “By the way, did you see the new ‘public service announcement’ Rikenna posted on the public hiring boards? Same offer Jensuradi used to make to do free background checks on potential employees, but this time, Rikenna referenced some hot newstrends about rogue minder terrorists who infiltrated innocent businesses so they could blow up some buildings and take down the planetary traffic control system.”

“Again?” Katalin rolled her eyes. Chaos, but she was tired of reminding the arrogant CPS that the station owned the hiring boards. She didn’t like running to Military Commander Doseki with petty complaints, but Rikenna was out of control.

For an agency with a prime mission of keeping the galactic peace, it sure had a pattern of stirring up unrest. Then they blamed it on the Ayorinn Legacy, a mysteriously cyclical meme about a legendary forecast that promised equality and justice for all minders. From what Katalin had seen, the agency was its own worst enemy.

“I’ll deal with the CPS in the morning. In the meanwhile, I’ll ask Luntian to take the notice down tonight.”

Sierrho growled, startling Paru in her lap.

Katalin turned to face Sierrho, not liking her friends to be at odds. “Are you mad at Luntian?”

Sierrho blew out a noisy breath. “Of course not.” Her tone was light, but she wouldn’t meet Katalin’s gaze.

Katalin didn’t have to be a minder sifter, with their talent for detecting lying, to know that Sierrho wasn’t telling the truth. She suspected her friend knew her reason was stubbornly unreasonable or not supported by the facts.

“Help me understand here. I thought you appreciated when he detained and restrained that chemmed passenger who wouldn’t leave you alone.” When Sierrho had unequivocally rejected the come-on, the idiot caused a commotion in the middle of Crossroads Hall, shouting vile insults and trying to grab Sierrho’s crotch to find out “which team she played for.” If Luntian hadn’t reacted so fast, Katalin would have stunned and ejected the scumbag herself. As it was, she levied a hefty fine against the cruiseliner company, which she knew would be added to the passenger’s bill.

“I did.” Sierrho’s shoulders hunched. “I do.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Katalin asked as gently as she could.

Her friend was silent for a long moment, but her expressive face said she was feeling conflicted. “That I’ll get used to him fighting my battles. I used to put up with a lot of shit I shouldn’t have so people would accept me. I’ve worked so hard to learn how to stand up for myself. I can’t lose that, or I won’t be able to protect my animals.”

Katalin could see that. Hell, she’d lived it when pulling free from her wretched family. It had taken her years, and very patient friends she’d met in university, for her to learn to ask for help. And with Starn and Temelle gone, regaining her resilience had been a hard, stumbling climb.

“I think you’re underestimating yourself. Starlane Crossroads would be a poorer, meaner place if you had moved on after that jerkwad trader stranded you to avoid paying your crew share. Instead, you stayed because you saw a need. We never knew the value of an animal rescue until you built one. I’d give you a medal and put your name in the business wall of fame, except I know you’d hate it.”

She shuddered. “You’re right, I would hate it, but thanks for the sentiment.” She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, as if groping for words. “With Luntian, I’d like to believe we could be, I don’t know, happy together. Except my mind and my body don’t really agree on anything. I fall in love with the person, but physical sexual desire doesn’t ever follow. My family sent me to a therapist who booked me into a galaxy-famous clinic to make me ‘normal.’ I would have gone through with it, too, if I hadn’t accidentally overheard the therapist promising my family that the clinic would fix my other little problem, too. The animal-affinity minder problem.” She huffed a disdainful snort. “At least I was smart enough to pretend I was on board, then vanish with my pets and as many cashflow chips I could lay my hands on.”

“Oh, Sierrho.” Katalin wrapped her friend in a loose hug. “Family betrayal cuts deepest, I think. For all that humanity has explored the galaxy and colonized five hundred terraformed planets, we’re still learning how not to be insular, fearful tribes.”

Sierrho squeezed Katalin’s arm, then pulled away to wipe the tears off her cheeks. “Luntian deserves better than me. Someone who can be intimate with him.”

“Not that it’s any of my business, but are you sure he wants intimacy? Have you talked with him about it?”

Sierrho shook her head. “I wouldn’t know where to begin. I tank at relationships. Give me an animal I can connect with and I’m good, but people?” She sniffled. “I think I’d tank at it even if I was normal.”

“My parents wanted ‘normal’ offspring, too. My brother is in a high-security prison and my sister needs attention the way most of us need breathable air. I survived by training myself to be invisible. I’m still learning that had its own price. I think ‘normal’ is only meaningful at a high-orbit level. Meanwhile, down here on ground zero, we’re all anomalies just trying to get along.”

One of Sierrho’s tears fell on the cat in her lap. Paru didn’t seem to mind.

Katalin searched for a way to comfort her friend. “For what it’s worth, I think Luntian is like Norby. You told me that dog knew the moment he met the half-drowned cat named Cyrene that he’d be hers forever. Sex isn’t even part of the equation. They just love each other.”

A small smile lightened Sierrho expression. “They do, don’t they? That’s why I gave them to Vellek. He won’t try to change them.”

“Shhh.” Katalin lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “He still thinks he’s fostering them.”

Sierrho smiled as she pulled a reusable tissue out of the chest pocket of her tunic where she kept a ready supply of them. “I won’t tell.” She blew her nose, then folded the wet tissue and put it in her other chest pocket. “He was scary when he first came to the station, but the animals told me he wasn’t angry, just lost.”

Katalin wished she had even that much of a hint as to how Vellek felt, but she might as well have wished for her own personal interstellar starship. And a crew to pilot it, since she never learned. Plus, the freedom to vacation on actual planets with real weather and oceans instead of being anchored to a space station in the middle of deep space. Not even her considerable savings, built by investing most of her salary instead of spending it, could buy her that.

A mechanical whirring broke the silence, followed by a series of delicate chimes. The elegant little timekeeper, a faithful replica of a preflight antique, had been one of her few indulgences.

Paru and Froggie stood and stretched, then jumped to the floor. From his high perch, Sky launched himself through the air and onto the back of the couch.

Laughing, Sierrho stood up. “How to tell me it’s time for treats without using any words.”

Katalin shrugged. “What can I say? They have me well trained.” She stood and crossed to the food cart and removed two boxes. “Here are the leftovers and the extra bones for Lady Peach and the canines.”

“You’re a good friend.” Sierrho pulled Katalin into a brief side-hug. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

Katalin handed over the boxes. “You do the same for me, so we’re matched in that.”

After Sierrho made her exit, Katalin served her three suddenly talkative and impatient roommates their favorite treats. Froggie liked expensive imported butter, while Paru and Sky were easily pleased with poultry protein morsels.

Then she made the mistake of sitting at her desk long enough to ask Luntian to nuke the incendiary hiring board notice and revoke Rikenna’s access. Again. Unfortunately, as he’d apparently recently discovered, it was easy to make new accounts every day, which was why she’d have to involve the Military Commander. While she, or at least Okebaan, had the right to evict the military contingent altogether, the station would lose the strong deterrence factor they represented. The station had excellent defenses and a proven willingness to use them when jackers were stupid enough to try them, but nothing beat a Galaxy-class warship in scattering would-be marauders. Only one of those beautiful ships had been to Starlane Crossroads in the last thirty years, but she’d never forgotten how it made the station look small.

Her inner sense of responsibility pounced on her moment of weakness. Before she knew it, she was making lists in her calendar and scanning her messages. Which was how she discovered a new notice from Okebaan Corp that had inexplicably been sent five days before but was only just arriving now. The delay was problematic, but the content was alarming.

She forwarded it to the cryptogon-protected dataspace she’d set up for Vellek so he could access confidential records, then sent a ping to tell him to look. Telling anyone else was out of the question at the moment. It felt good to have someone to share news with, even if it was bad.

She’d had plenty of alone time during her marriage, and too much of it since the accident that shattered her. Would Vellek be interested in spending together time and charting a new course?

Maybe after all this was over, she’d work up the courage to ask him. In the meantime, she had a station to run for as long as Okebaan let her.