Weeks turned into months. John and Patience settled into their new life on Edison Station. The administration kept them on their toes, but they were both privileged to possess skills that were useful to the community.
Geert Kuyper was able to secure a position for Patience in the Preventative Meteorology department, analyzing space conditions. She called herself a “weather-babe,” since most of her job was compiling readings for the experts. She hoped that if she did a good job she’d be able to resume her work trying to speed up Terra’s recovery. But for now, weather-babe it was.
John spent most of his days in the cockpit, which was really just an office. It was similar to his setup in the construction towers, but much bigger. There were duplicate offices elsewhere on the station, so that no one person was flying the station at any one time. Of course, “flying” was a generous term. The station could take care of itself. He was just there to make sure nothing broke.
Geert visited almost every day. He came bringing weak coffee or rehydrated treats. He was so nice that John was suspicious at first. Years on board the cutthroat shuttle had taken their toll. But after visiting his home, they figured it out. Geert was lonely. He had no one. The only people left on Edison Station were the useless and the weak. The disfavored. On top of that, as head of the piloting team, Geert had regular interaction with Manager Davis-Paine. He needed a friend.
John wasn’t very good at friendship, but he liked Geert. If John kept quiet, the funny little man would do most of the talking. It worked. Today, they were finishing cups of coffee, watching the feed from the front of the station. The screen was big and almost looked like a real window. Only the occasional pixelated distortion revealed the truth.
Geert was telling his story. Every day John got another little piece of it. The engineer had wanted to be a pilot. He couldn’t make the physical cut, but his math scores had always been great, so he studied to design piloting systems. That hadn’t worked out for him either.
He launched into a long explanation of how the current system could be optimized. John didn’t retain much of it. He sipped his coffee. It was cold now. Patience always drank her coffee in a few big gulps. He could spend hours on one mug.
“Of course, once the current operating system was standardized, there wasn’t much room for innovation anymore,” said Geert. “It’s a shame, really.”
“If it got much more complicated, I don’t think I’d have job,” John said.
“Well, it’s fine for day-to-day work; that’s easy and predictable. But in case of an emergency, I worry about the performance of this system.”
John laughed. He told Geert about an accident he’d had in his tower back on Mars, when a building almost crashed through his cockpit.
Geert clucked, “You see? Reliable until they’re not.”
“At least nothing’s going to smack into us up here.”
The engineer scoffed and set his coffee mug down. “Is that what you think, Mr. Desmond?”
John goaded his friend, “It’s called space for a reason, right? Plenty of room to get out of the way.”
Geert sputtered, “Plenty of – you must be joking. If we were on a collision course with anything at all, we’d be–“
“Yes, Geert, I’m joking.”
“You laugh now, John, but when you’re piloting an escape pod instead of a space station, you’ll remember I was right.”
“Escape pod?”
“Yes, as part of the piloting crew, you’re expected to be able to pilot any craft on this ship.”
“I am?”
“Yes.”
John laughed again, “If I ever have to fly a ship off of this thing, we’re all in deep trouble.”
Geert shrugged, “Just trust the readouts. I hear they’re very reliable.”
On the screen in front of them, Terra came into view.
After work, John and Patience walked through the marketplace together. The room might have been a basketball court or something at some point, but now it was an economic bazaar. Tables and booths were set up along the edges and in rows. People pressed together, shoppers, soldiers and sellers. The noise was impressive, but you could get anything here.
Today they needed shoes. John had surprised Patty with some new ones early on, but he was still rocking his sterile white sneakers. A woman at a table had piles and rows of shoes behind her booth. Most were used and worn, but they got some for a bargain. They moved to an open spot so John could pull on his new brown boots. Four soldiers marched by in their white uniforms and darkened helmets.
Patience was talking about work. She was learning how to read the data she passed on and was telling John every detail. He would never see one of those sheets, but he liked to hear her talk. Even if he did zone out every few minutes.
“Today I noticed some electromagnetic spikes on the sun. At least I thought I did, the data are organized differently than they were on Mars. Anyway, I stuck around after turning it in to see if I was right. They don’t mind if I stick around. Then I heard Yulia point to the spot I’d been looking at and she mentioned an EMG spike! That’s exactly what I’d thought. After that they gave me a look, so I knew I should move on, but I think they’re starting to notice me more.”
John smiled. Life on Station wasn’t easy, but after the hellholes he’d been through, this wasn’t so bad. He had her. He angled his head so that he could see her with his good eye. Patience. He’d married Patience. Stranger still, she’d married him! He just wished he could offer her something better than this place. Oops, that was a question.
He smiled, “Yep.”
She nodded and kept going. He tried to listen a little closer. He took her hand and they headed home. They hadn’t moved out of the Shelves like Geert had recommended. It was a dangerous part of the Station, but John was scarier than just about anybody else they’d meet down there. They opened the door and locked it behind them.
The rooms looked like home now. Slowly they’d accumulated the necessities and a few luxuries. There was food in the refrigerator (and a refrigerator). There were sheets and a mattress on the bed now. The screens remained off most nights. Patience was in the kitchen, making dinner. She possessed a fascinating ability to make this tiny little space the happiest home he’d ever had.
John sat on the couch. He always felt bad relaxing when she did chores, but she said it made her feel like a “real wife” to take care of him. As he sat, a familiar thought snaked into John’s mind.
Where were they going?
While they weren’t teenagers anymore, they still had a lot of life left. Decades. Were they going to live here for decades? Could they last that long without an execution or imprisonment? The fleet was gone, the colonies were dead. That left only one option.
There was a strong knock at the door.
Well, two options.
John got up. “That’s him,” he said.
Patience nodded.
He opened the door and let Emilio in. The gangster shook John’s hand and pulled him close, giving him his usual back pat hug. John returned the embrace. Emilio gave Patience a respectful greeting like he always did, and she nodded like she always did.
The men sat down. Emilio gestured at Patty.
“Does she not like me or something?”
“She’s shy.”
“Guess so.” Emilio looked at Patience while she cooked. John felt his stomach clench. The gangster held up a finger and reached into his knapsack. He pulled out two bottles and handed one to John.
“For you, my friend.” He clinked his bottle with John’s and twisted off the top. John was grateful and took a swig of his. They sat quietly for a few minutes. Emilio had calmed down since the first few months onboard. He came to see them often. Some days they didn’t even discuss anything related to his revolution. Patience believed Emilio had found in him the one person who didn’t cower at his every word, and needed a break every now and then.
Not today, though. Emilio smacked his lips and put the empty bottle on the table. “We’re going to kill Davis-Paine.”
John’s drink was only half empty. He rested it on his knee. “What’s your plan?”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
“Me?”
“That’s right, brother.”
Emilio hadn’t asked John do anything more than share information up till now. Basic stuff, like what the cockpit looked like and who was in charge of what department. He’d never felt bad about that. It wasn’t classified information, and John had no love for the Station Manager either. No one had ever suspected that he was part of Emilio’s “resistance,” as he called it. This took things to a whole new level.
“What do you need?” he asked.
“I need to know where he’s going to be.”
“You want his schedule?”
“Whatever you can get me.”
There was no point in arguing, but John thought he’d try anyway.
“Are we ready for that?”
“We can’t let that guy live.”
“What happens when he dies?”
“We take over.”
“Who does?”
“We do. What are you talking about?”
“Are you going to run this place?”
“I can’t do any worse than he does.”
John wondered about that. Davis-Paine was a tyrant, but he knew how to keep the Station running. He wondered if anyone but a tyrant could keep Edison Station under control. Actually, put that way, Emilio might be a great choice.
“When?”
“Soon. The boys are getting restless.”
Emilio had gathered close to a hundred disaffected men and even a handful of women to his cause. They trained and worked out and stole what they needed rather than work for it. And they all hated Malcolm Davis-Paine. More of a mob than an army, really. Like a club. But even clubs hurt when you whack someone over the head with one.
Refusing wasn’t an option. And John wasn’t even sure that he wanted to.
“I’ll get you what you need.”
“Thanks Johnny. We’ll make a plan after that.”
He stood and shouldered his pack.
“You’re not staying?”
“Nah man, I got places to be. Have a good night, Patty.”
John stood and escorted him to the door. Before he left, Emilio put his arms around John and gave him a full hug. John was taken aback, but returned the gesture, gently. Emilio pulled back, holding John by the arms.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Johnny. You’re the only one man I trust.”
“No problem.”
“I’m serious. You keep me sane. Don’t let me go off the rails, okay?”
John was quiet for a moment. He took a chance, “Emilio, do we really need this? Why not get a job? Get married, do what I’m doing? You could be happy.”
Emilio laughed and shook his head. He squeezed John’s shoulder, “I’m not like you. I need this.”
“You need this?”
Emilio stepped out of the door. He smiled and walked backwards, arms up in a big shrug.
“It’s what I do.”
No easy way out of this for John. I love the ever present background tension.
Emilio sounds like a socialist. destablizing places is what he does. He doesn't want to work, doesn't want to contribute, just wants to destroy.
He's a tyrant in the making.