Space Stations

More docks had been added to the Wheel in recent years, and now there were fifteen of them filled with the metal slugs of freighters and dull gray torchships; other docks held the shuttles that traveled to and from Earth and Luna. The Habber vessel was unlike the other torchships; it was a slender spire of silver attached to the vast globe that housed its engines. Its passengers would board the vessel, perhaps expecting the diversions that other passenger ships offered, only to find out that they would be in suspension during the entire journey. The Habbers claimed that this was a more efficient way of transporting their passengers, that to have them safely stored in sleepers was more comfortable for them, given the high acceleration of their faster ships, but Alonza also suspected that the Habbers did not want anyone else poking around inside their vessels and maybe finding out more about them.

Alonza moved closer to the viewscreen. Outside the hub, two suited and helmeted figures crawled along the latticework of the dock that held the Habber ship. They had surely noticed by now that the components did not really need to be replaced this soon, according to the readings, but they were well-disciplined Guardian technicians and had not questioned their orders.

Alonza slapped the comm next to the screen. “How's it going, Starling?”

“I've got two more components to go, Major,” the voice of Darlanna Starling replied.

“Richi's got three.”

“Estimate?”

“Two more hours, maybe three.”

“Both of you better come inside for a break, Starling. That's an order. When you get too tired, accidents can happen.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Get some food into you, maybe a nap if you think you need it.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

That would give her some more time. Maybe she wouldn't need much more; maybe this whole business would move along faster than she expected. Go to the lounge where the Venus-bound passengers were waiting, give them some bureaucratic gab, get Sameh Tryolla away from the others on some excuse, and send the two Habbers on their way with their ship.

Doubt bit at her again. It didn't add up, the secrecy, holding the woman here, going to all this trouble. Alonza pushed those thoughts aside as she left the bay.

The people in the lounge seemed subdued. Some of them lay on the floor, their packs and duffels under their heads, while others sat on cushions. A few had helped themselves to cups of water from the wall dispenser and were drinking it listlessly. Perhaps they were still recovering from the weightless discomforts of the shuttle flight.

Sameh Tryolla was on one of the cushions, her back against the wall, looking even thinner and smaller than she had in her file image. She glanced toward Alonza, then looked away.

“…showed them to the lavatories,” the Guardian on Alonza's right murmured, “and they haven't given us any trouble. Might need to get fed soon, though.”

“They don't have any credit to pay for their food,” Alonza said. The hopeful settlers had been forced to give up all their credit after reaching the camp; it was one way to help cover the expense of housing them while they waited for passage. “Thirty or forty hours on nothing but water won't kill them,” she went on, thinking of times in her early childhood when she had had even less than that.

“Yeah, but you don't want them to get weak, Major,” the Guardian said, “or we might get stuck with them for even longer.”

Alonza turned toward the young man. “You're quite right, Zaleski,” she said as the threads of her plan came together in her mind. “In fact, that's why I'm here. I'm a little worried after the last message I got from Keir Renin.”

The young Guardian looked puzzled.

“The officer in charge of the camp they came from,” she continued in a softer voice. “He didn't say so outright, but he implied that the soldiers who gave them their med-scans might have been a bit sloppy.”

Zaleski's blue eyes widened.

“Oh, I don't think we really have to worry,” Alonza said hastily. “Renin's people would have caught anything virulent or potentially lethal. But as long as they're stuck here, it wouldn't hurt to scan them all again.”

“Should I call for a couple of paramedics?” Zaleski turned toward the comm near the doorway.

“No,” Alonza replied. “The head physician can handle this.” She could trust Tom, and Colonel Sansom had told her to use her own judgment. “I'll go to the infirmary and set things up with him.”

“I could call him and—”

“I'd rather not have rumors going around about possibly contagious travelers being here.”

The young Guardian nodded. “Of course, Major Lemaris.”

Tom Ruden-Nodell listened as Alonza told him about the people she wanted scanned and gave him the name of the person she had been ordered to detain. “We'll bring her back here,” she continued, “and hold her until Colonel Sansom gets back.”

“And we're to do all this as quietly as possible,” he said.