“You have given us back to The Five. There is no more you could do to help. Our fate belongs to our queen. She will determine if we are worthy or not.”
“Still, I’d hate to see you reabsorbed or for your talents to go to waste. Perhaps I could help make your case? If you’d like to stay, I could try to convince your queen to, at the least, allow you to maintain your position,” Betta said.
His antennae halted their odd stroking of the air. “Your Human concern is noted, Betta Reganta. If you wish to aid me, model for me so that I may put you to canvas.”
The fear in her heart melted and she made a dramatic toss of her short-cropped hair. “I believe I can make the time for you. Schedule it with Teena and I will make myself available. I am curious to see how you view me through Antogin eyes and translate it to paint.”
“Human translations are always dynamic. May your day go well.”
“You too,” Betta said. She realized that her hand was still in Sera’s. He was first to pull away, gently.
For the remainder of the gathering, Betta met with several others, discussed their stories and their businesses. She listened to concerns and offered advice where she could. Victor approached her toward the end when her wits were near exhausted.
“You did good,” he offered in that ancient way of speaking that made her pause. “You got spirit, kid. You’re gonna need it with this crowd. Come on by the Blue Tavern and I’ll give you a discount on drinks when it gets bad. We specialize in helping people feel good in a discreet fashion.”
“Why does that sound a little shady?” Betta asked, half-joking.
“Hey, I do my best work in the shade. Look, I just mean we got a whole crew on deck to make certain things go well in my place. If you know my past, you know I don’t tolerate nonsense. I deal on the up and up.”
Victor intrigued her even before she met him. He’d owned a tavern on a colony a few sectors away. When he’d noticed some of his patrons were found dead hours after visiting his tavern, he’d put together a sting with the feds to track the killer. Victor’s daughter was the last victim, her body found near one of the incinerators. It was an obvious message from the murderer.
That did not stop Victor from trapping the killer in one of his back rooms. When it was revealed that a top executive for Pilo was the culprit, Victor was put in stasis, his establishment liquidated, and no more paper trail. Any mention of the executive in the report did not mention his name or to what division he belonged.
There were so many stories, and so many wrongs, that Betta felt a little overwhelmed by the outpouring that came with this meeting.
Victor laughed, bringing her attention back to the dark-haired man. “Looks like you could use a drink now. Can I offer an arm for the lady?” He extended an elbow.
Betta shook her head. “Thank you, but I promised Teena I’d tour The Disc with her today.”
“Fair enough. How about you join me for a drink when you’re free?” Victor asked.
Betta paused. Was she being hit on? She felt the heat enter her cheeks. For once, she was grateful for her dark skin. “As friends, Victor.”
“Oh man, you’re tough. Fine, Ms. Reganta. As friends, but I reserve the right to ask you out another time.”
She laughed. “You are always welcome to ask, Mr. Allesandro.”
Betta watched the managers pack themselves into the lift with little room for even a breath. Her next stop was to tour The Disc, the very place where all the managers were making their exit.
“We can take the service lift at the other end of the corridor, Miss Reganta,” Teena prompted.
“Call me Betta, Teena. How did we do?”
Teena inclined her head, her face solemn. “It was better than any introduction I’ve done. It was uplifting and emotional. I believe Betta’s Station will do well. And I don’t feel it’s right that I call you Betta in public, Miss Reganta. We should not get too familiar.”
As the doors slid closed on the retreating managers, Betta caught the flicker of the lift’s emergency lights. Next, flashes of red and the sound of a low wailing alarm bombarded their ears.
Betta could hardly make out anyone in the blinking corridor, but she could feel the steel grip of Teena’s hand on her wrist as she was yanked along. She couldn’t see where Teena led them. It was several steps and more than a few stumbles. The gravity was light so it was easy for her to recover from a stumble.
There was the sound of an electronic lock releasing, then she was shoved into a room. Betta fell to the carpeted floor as the heavy door was shut behind them. The sound of the alarm was muted here.
Teena stood at the door breathing heavily.
Betta took a moment to calm her own breathing. She accessed the link to her communication node and tried to reach Maintenance. There was only the “No Connection” script that ran across her retina and a metallic voice repeated the same in her ears.
“What is it?” Betta asked. “What’s happening?”
Teena had her hand to her chest. “The station is under attack. This is a lock-down procedure instituted by the feds.”
Betta stayed low to the ground, clutching her knees to her chest. “What do we do?”
“We wait. Maybe we die. I’ve never been in a lock-down like this.”
“Maybe we die?” Betta snorted.
“You’re the CEO, the owner. Aren’t you supposed to tell me what we’re supposed to do? Aren’t you supposed to keep my morale up?” Teena’s voice raised an octave or two before settling.
The silence sat between them for a few moments. Betta attempted another connection through her link and found nothing. This time there was no warning message, no returned failure, only silence.
After another look at Teena’s slim silhouette at the door, it occurred to Betta that this might be what Teena feared. A station full of Pilo and black-market enemies would be a highly-valued target.
“Let’s sit, Teena,” she said softly. “You’re right. There’s not much we can do from here. We let the feds do their job. All we can do is stay calm and act when we can.”
The only light they had to see by were the flickering emergency lights that did more to blind than allow one to see. Betta vowed that she’d have Sera Rankor replace them with something more practical if they lived.
Reaching out a hand, Betta guided Teena to sit on the carpeted floor beside her. She was surprised to feel Teena trembling, though neither pulled away from the other.
“I guess I’ve started to rely on you to have all the answers. That’s not fair, and it’s not the job you signed up for,” Betta admitted.
“No. It’s not. But then I was never meant to be assigned to another post again, was I? What you lack in professionalism and knowledge, you make up for in integrity. This idea of freeing all of those who were wrongly imprisoned might get us dead a lot faster, but it was a noble try.”
“You think you can run Betta’s Station better than me, don’t you?” Betta asked.
Teena’s fingers tensed in her own. “Maintain it. Ensure a steady stream of easy profit. Yes. I would do a better job than you. But motivating the people, anticipating needs, and making outrageous deals that might triple our growth, you would do best.”
“It was you that motivated everyone today, not me,” Betta said.
“Motivated by telling them about Betta Reganta and what she did for them,” Teena replied.
Teena had the knowledge and expertise, and it was obvious she had experience with space stations. A woman as smart and capable as Teena would have been a good candidate for the job. But like many jobs in the Pilo realm, the most qualified were not always placed correctly. Instead, the most qualified usually found themselves run out of a business for speaking out or having far too many opinions.
“I would be lost if it weren’t for you, Teena. Choosing you for an executive assistant was the best choice.”
She felt her executive assistant relax even more. Their hands merely touched, a lifeline in the flickering darkness.
“Let’s give it six months and we can revisit your contract if Pilo doesn’t have you obligated for some other station.”
“I doubt they would—wait, are you offering me a partnership, Miss Reganta?” Teena’s professional voice had suddenly reappeared and it was as controlled as ever.
“Call me Betta, Teena. We’re alone in a dark room waiting to die. I think that puts us on a first name basis. And, no. I am considering you for a share in Betta’s Station based on your performance at the end of the six-month trial period. I can also offer you an executive managerial position.”
“Can I have that in writing?” Teena asked.
“Yes. If you don’t mind, I will draw up the contract myself once you can confirm yourself as a free agent.” It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Teena, but having her write her own contract felt wrong somehow.
Betta felt her stomach dip and, in desperation, they each wrapped arms around one another as the gravity became nonexistent. They began to float in the darkness, their bodies entangled with one another. She could feel the other woman’s pulse vibrating against her own where their cheek’s touched.
Betta’s calm shattered as she imagined this might be their last moments on her station.
The sound of the ventilators halted and the cold began to creep into the dark chamber. The two trembled against one another.