Another nudge in the right direction. A part of her squirmed at the way Teena addressed her, so prim, so proper. She’d expected gratitude, not snobbery. Instead of saying what she really thought, Betta only nodded as they paused at the lift that would take them to Deck Seven.
Teena pressed the button, but the doors didn’t shiver, and both stood for what seemed an uncomfortable amount of time.
“I verified all systems in this section. I’m sorry, Miss Reganta.” Teena put a hand to one ear.
The doors to the lift slid open. The interior LEDs blinked red and Teena put a hand to Betta’s forearm to halt her.
“Project audio,” Teena said. “Say again, Sera Rankor.”
“I’ve put the lifts on emergency power until I can get authorization for a repair to the upper disc. They still have no artificial gravity. Have you told her she needs Pilo hazard pay initiatives?”
“I was just getting to that.” Teena faced Betta. “The repair to the upper disc is simple. One of the axles that aides in the rotation of the disc has corroded.”
“In vacuum?” Betta asked skeptically, crossing her arms.
“It is the result,” said the high-pitched voice of Sera Rankor, “of leakage from the fusion reactor. The waste collectors stopped working in certain sections causing oxidation at weak points. I have more detailed schematics when you are ready, Betta of Arys.”
Betta considered the situation. She’d chosen Rankor because his people were unlikely to cheat for Pilo. Antogins were famous for their focus on technical issues and solutions, rather than political plays. She suspected they also hated Pilo, like she did, and this opportunity would give them a chance. Was she a fool for trying this?
Hazard jobs could run high, especially if anyone on the team was lost. The cost could be exponential depending on the beneficiaries. Pilo was kind enough to lend business owners the cost with a fixed interest. That could easily take her savings.
Sighing audibly, Betta laid clammy hands on her thighs and forced away a wave of weakness. “What’s the minimum amount of personnel needed for this job?”
Teena was at her side with an oblong patch that she waved questionably in her face.
“What is it?” Betta asked.
“Stem patch. That feeling you have is only going to get worse until you move around the station for a few days. Your muscles have atrophied. Your body is no longer used to prolonged activity. This patch will release adrenaline and endorphins to get you by for a few hours.”
“Won’t that make it worse later?”
“Yes,” Teena said. “You’re going to crash in an hour at the most. With this, you’ll crash in two and you’ll probably have a splitting headache and a sour stomach for a few days.”
“Federation regulations demand that two operators be present for a repair of this scope,” Sera Rankor said. “If you authorize, I will need your presence on Deck Three soon.”
Betta looked to Teena, brows raised.
“There are multiple systems through the station that run independently, but they also work as a whole. The motion of the disc that provides artificial gravity also provides power to water filtration systems in decks 9 through 12. When the artificial gravity is offline, these systems pull energy from the fusion reactor, which puts a greater strain on the grid. This can lead to a cascade of blackouts in other sections should we reach the reactor’s limit.”
“How can we be at our limit?” Betta took the stem pad, pulled away the membrane and plastered it to her exposed neck. “The station isn’t even fully operational, and it’s been derelict for decades.”
“That is precisely the problem. The station has only been running for about six months at its current level. It’s been running without the movement of the disc and with multiple issues. If this station had been running for years with all its individual systems at peak efficiency, the reactor would output at 50 to 55 percent. This includes the batteries that needed to be replaced because they were just too old to be charged, and we are nearly eighty percent done with their replacement. Charging will take a few more weeks, maybe even months to reach a decent capacity. Right now, the reactor is running at 92 percent, which is above recommended limits for long-term output, not to mention the cost of the deuterium we are using.”
“So.” Betta frowned as the entire situation revealed itself. “The fusion reactor is going to operate at this level until we can get everything to its normal state, and this is the last repair needed?”
Suddenly, her pulse increased, and her heart slammed against her chest. For a moment, the elevator compartment seemed to expand, then compress as her whole body throbbed. A high-pitched tone squealed in her ears before the feeling of being squeezed slowly dissipated.
Teena was holding her when she opened clenched eyes. “Take a moment,” Teena said. “The stem tabs can be disorienting.”
“I don’t know… your type… but I don’t like girls, Teena.” Betta whispered through clinched teeth.
It was the first genuine smile she’d seen on the tough face of her executive manager. As quickly as it appeared, Betta was standing alone, regaining her balance, and Teena’s professional face was back, all straight lines without any hint of emotion.
The lift doors opened without any impression that they had stopped, or even the sound of a hiss. Betta was expecting a change in gravity, a feeling of her guts floating inside her belly. Instead, the display blinked “Deck Three” and she was witness to a corridor of office doors.
Teena walked ahead of her. Betta followed the determined woman with far less familiarity. The weak gravity of the station was throwing off her senses. She felt she might float away if she jumped into the air, and she well might, or, at least, take a long time coming back down.
Teena pushed open the door marked “Maintenance” and revealed a room filled with creatures of all types walking from one console to another. The consoles were laid out in a circular pattern that offered gaps for beings to enter or leave. Brown men and women populated the room, Humans that wore the same flight suit that she did, though theirs was a glossy grey. These were easy to recognize amongst the crowd.
The ant-like creatures that stood upright with antennae vibrating and mandibles stretching was what stood out to her. The initial instinct was of absolute terror, which didn’t help her already accelerated heartbeat. Betta fought for control. She had not expected her body to react in such a way. When she met Drafers or Lytens on Arys-27 she had been fascinated. She’d seen pictures of Antogins, watched vids, and even studied their social structure, but it was different in person. They were so different from any creature she had ever seen. And there was a smell. The Lytens had their musk, and the Drafers had their own unique aroma, as Betta was certain Humans did as well. Antogin smelled like old cheese. Not good cheese. Bad cheese.
At the center stood the largest of the ant creatures and he did not wear a flight suit. He had his own console at the middle of the maze. He rose to reveal a solid maroon thorax he twisted about as he waved stick-like protuberances that looked nothing like a hand.
His mandibles moved, and the high-pitched voice of Sera Rankor came forth. “Welcome to maintenance, Betta of Arys.”
After a moment, Betta lifted her head and spoke.
“You said two operators?”
“To the point!” Sera Rankor sounded pleased. “I don’t like to waste time with pleasantries either. We will get along well. Please come forward and authorize your acceptance of the terms at my console.”
Betta eased through the maze of consoles, Humans, ant-like creatures, and a squat humanoid she suspected were Hyn. Drafers at the outer edge—the lizard people with forked tongues who looked far more human than the Antogins—kept their distance. Their eyes focused solely on the consoles before them.