Scarlet Steel

The true death toll from the first wave of interstellar explorers will never be fully known. But every last one of their sacrifices paved the way for humanity today. The first ships were manufactured in a rush, and nobody knew the full extent of dangers we would encounter. - An Incomplete History of Space Travel

Things settle down, but I don’t stop working. Sure, I’m not in a time crunch anymore, but I still spend more time in the simulator than I do outside it. Elara and Xenia even join in occasionally, letting me practice working in an actual group. I’m sure the experience will be vital.

Every morning I check the windows in the living room, and every day we inch closer to Mnemosyne space. We don’t have a definitive destination planned, just trying to reach the area. However, that’s not our first destination. Our first stop is a space station to relax, followed by a few systems on the way to pick up work. Even the first station takes a week to arrive at, another 20 light years.

I feel nothing when we drop out of Local Space and enter a solar system. From there it’s just one more day of training before we arrive.

I sit on the couch and watch our approach. The space station is massive, a sphere that could hold a city orbiting a lush green planet, gleaming like a miniature moon. Traffic is common, streaming out of multiple entrances. Most ships head planetside, but there are still plenty of people arriving from or heading towards the system’s edge.

“How did they build that?” I ask.

“Slowly.” Exa answers. “Around us are a cluster of stars with a few habitable planets. This system was one of Earth’s first major outposts when they developed FTL travel. When Earth locked themselves off, they developed their own government. That capital,” Exa nods at the planet, “rules six others. They’ve kept things stable.”

“So this station is what, 100 years old?”

“Closer to 130, and it only grows every year. It’s a nice place, but stick with me. Find yourself in the wrong ward and things could get bad quickly. Plus, if you don’t know what you’re doing, you’re going to get fleeced regardless of where you are.”

“Sure, sounds good. And uh,” I glance around to make sure everyone else is too busy to overhear me. “How do I actually buy things?”

“Have you really never spent an arc?”

I shake my head. “Eveything I needed I could find in the junkyard.”

“Juno got your biometrics during intake. That’s hooked up to your account. When you buy things, it’ll scan you.”

“And how do I check that?”

“I’ve dropped a link onto your tablet and laptop. You’ve got 5k in there. If you need more I’ll spot you.”

Is that a lot? Well a Hopper costs three million, that’s a six hundredth of that. And that’s just our minimums?

“How much do you make from an average mission?” I ask. I can probably put together my project mech for two million, I don’t know if I can handle hundreds of missions like that.

“Thought you weren’t in it for the money?” Exa seems amused. “Average is close to 50k, most Niel and I ever split was 1.2 million.”

“So 40 missions for my project mech? I can do that.”

“That’s how you track money? Dummy.”

“It’s my only reference!” I argue.

“Alright, dork.”

“That one’s probably true.” I shrug.

“Also, we’re spending your first paycheck today. Most of it at least, you need some upgrades.”

“I’ll buy a holo monitor if I have to.” It still feels weird to do.

“That, plus you need some nice clothes, and a gun.”

“Won’t Juno just give me one when I need it? And my overalls are nice, why do I need more?”

“They’re fine up until we all need to meet a client in person.”

“I’ll get a suit only if I can work in it.” I insist. “Stainproof nanofibre, shoes that don’t suck, a breakaway tie.”

“You’re going to work in a suit?” She gives me a sideways glance.

“I don’t have a single piece of clothing that I haven’t worked on Hoppy in. If we meet someone and I need to do repairs, I’m going to.”

“Fair. No dress then?”

“It’d get caught in the gears, dummy.” That should be obvious. “And why a gun?”

“You need one that fits you, not just whatever Juno has in storage.”

“Did Dad have a gun?” I ask quietly. “I want that one.”

“He had it on him.”

“Right.”

Our conversation dies there. We silently watch the ship approach, although we stop a ways away.

“Approch complete.” Andromeda announces. “Please make your way to the dropship to complete your arrival.”

“Come on, Juno won’t wait for us.” Exa stands up, and I follow everyone to the dropship. We pile into the cockpit, and Juno detaches us from the ship a moment later.

The screens display our approach towards a small collection of hangers built into the side of the station. All of them glow with a soft blue glow, a field keeping the atmosphere in. 

Most ships entering and exiting are small, only capable of carrying a few people. Larger ships like ours are rare, even rarer than the massive cargo haulers nearly the size of our main ship constantly streaming in and out.

“Got landing permission.” Elara announces. “Displaying the path.”

“Thank you.” Juno says. 

My excitement only grows as we approach, only to vanish when we fly into nothing more than a massive hangar with squares painted on the ground. Most are already full, and Juno gets directed to an open one. 

“That’s it?” I ask.

“What were you expecting?” Juno asks.

“I don’t know, something more? A big city?”

“Have you never seen a station?” Janus asks. “Open space is impractical when surrounded by a near vacuum. Leaks on a station this large are not unheard of, and crashes from inexperienced pilots happen. When someone inevitably crashes through the hull, you don’t want to accidentally vent an entire city. It’ll open up more when we get deeper inside.”

That brings my excitement back a little.

The ship lands, and we step out into the busy hangar. The place is loud, with conversation filling the air, and large vehicles traveling between the ships, laid down with cargo. We join the crowd heading deeper into the station, and through a door that leads into a monorail station. The train is sleek, but most of it is dedicated to cargo, leaving only a few sections for humans and AI. We pile on, and despite Exa’s attempts to make space for me, I end up pressed against the window.

“I didn’t expect it to be this crowded.” I have to half-yell just to be heard.

“This is about as bad as it gets.” Exa reassures me. “Apparently there’s been plans to rebuild this whole section for years, but it’s been stuck in planning hell.”

“I hope we don’t come back before then.”

“Mm-hmm.”

The monorail takes off, shooting through boring, barren tunnels. It stops occasionally, announcing station names in a few different languages. With every stop, people get off and I get a little more space to breathe.

“Scarlet,” Juno says, “take a look.”

I glance at the tunnel wall, and a moment later it disappears. A large green area spreads off into the distance, every inch of it full of plants nearly falling over from the weight of the fruits growing on them. 

“Woah.” My eyes are locked onto large machines that slowly make their way through the rows. When they pass over a plant it’s left barren of fruits, but otherwise undisturbed. “How do those work?” Little arms built into the underside? They’d need a ton of them to work that quickly. Gravity manipulation? The energy costs would be absurd, and I don’t know how they’d manage to avoid accidentally pulling off leaves with the fruit.

“I’ll see if I can scrape blueprints.” Janus offers.

“Don’t get in trouble for me!”

“I’m not expecting to get anything. A server this old has had millions of attempts on it, but it’d be rude to not at least try. And if I do find any vulnerabilities, our curiosity is a small price to pay for their knowledge that said vulnerabilities exist.”

“You said the same thing with the bandits. I really don’t get it, but alright.”

“You don’t have to get it. Consider it a cultural difference.”

“Right.”

Juno reaches up and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“I can’t believe you.” She says. “You see a farm for the first time, in space nonetheless, and your only interest is in the harvesters?”

“They’re really interesting!” Can’t she see that? “Sure, plants are cool I guess, but look at them! The number of engineering problems to overcome to make them work at all, much less as well as they do, is absurd!” Maybe bioengineering is the key? If you could create a plant that drops the fruits when an electric current is applied, that would simplify the machines a lot.

“One day you’ll understand.” The train pulls into a station in the center of a small town. “This is where we get off. Be at the ship in 24 hours.”

“Copy.” Janus nods. “I’ll be keeping track of you.”

“Appreciate it.” Her and Elara step off the train, and a minute later it takes off again.

Graff and Xenia end up getting off at the next station. It’s a compact area, teeming with people and neon lights advertising on every wall.

“I’ll be keeping track of you.” Janus says again.

“Yeah yeah.” He waves vaguely and steps off.

“I’ll keep him straight.” Xenia reassures us and steps off after him.

Janus is the next off, getting off at a station teeming with AI and very few humans. The walls are entirely screens, displaying yet more AI streaming along in their digital world.

He gives us only a nod before stepping off, leaving just Exa and I in the car. We ride, occasionally getting glimpses of the station, until we reach a city center. Layers of streets lined with trees crisscross atop each other, with towering buildings piercing through it all. The station is just one of the endless buildings, the most packed I’ve seen one since the hangar.

“This is our stop. Welcome to the city.” Exa steps out into the crowd, and I follow close behind to avoid getting swept away. “Your clothes will have to be custom tailored, we’ll start with that.”

The street is less crowded, and surprisingly quiet. I can see people’s mouths moving, but their words are muffled to my ears.

“How does sound work here?” Even at a normal speaking volume, I feel like I’m too loud.

“That’s a long story.” I can hear her fine. “You have to register who you want to hear you in the city center. I took care of that though. Still, don’t think that means we get privacy, it just means the station is the only one listening.

“Uh-huh.” I should ask Janus to get those blueprints as well. I follow Exa through the streets, taking turn after turn, heading up and down escalators the whole way. “Have you been here before?”

“A few times, yeah. Never been to this store though, apparently they’re good.” She steps off the street and into a boutique. The place is busy, with every inch of floor space possible dedicated to showing off the season’s style. I guess frills are in? That sucks. Exa walks straight up to the nearest worker. “Don’t bother upselling, the answer is no and we’re never going to be back. Scarlet wants a dress suit a mechie could work in. Simple and well-fitted with a complete range of motion, one that will hold up and that won’t stain from oil. And nothing extra that could get caught in machines.”

“I can do that.” The woman’s eyes flick over me quickly. “What’s your timeframe?”

“We leave in 24 hours.” Exa answers for me. “Delivery to our ship preferred.”

“A rush job will increase the price.”

“I’m aware.” Exa says.

“Ok, if you’ll step into our body scanner, I’ll work out the details with your friend.” She gestures to a booth built into the wall.

“I just step in?” I ask.

“You’ll see instructions.” She reassures me. “We just need you to move in a few ways to properly see how you bend.”

“Sure.” I step in and a video begins to play. Turns out they need me to bend in far more than just a few ways. I’m forced to perform dozens of movements before it’s finally satisfied. When I step out, the worker is gone, and Exa is waiting.

“Gun time.” She nods. 

“Why are we in such a hurry?” I follow her back onto the streets.

“Shore time is rare, and you need as much as you can get.” It’s just a short walk before we step into another store.

It’s actually not that different from the boutique. Rows and rows of displays showing off guns that are barely different from the one next to it. Exa doesn’t bother finding help, she just walks slowly through the rows, looking at each weapon for only a second before moving on.

“What are you looking for?” I ask.

“Something quality. There’s a big difference between a range gun and a field gun. Half this crap would jam if you were in a dusty room, much less dunk it in mud.”

A worker finds us at the end of one of the rows.

“Can I help you?” He asks.

“Not unless you’ve got something a pilot can use.”

“What are you looking for?” He asks.

“A pilot’s backup pistol. Tried and true, silencer required, recoil negation preferred. I don’t want anything new, nothing manufactured in the past decade.

“I’d recommend a pistol with a polycarbonate frame-”

“No. Caustic atmosphere will crumble that thing. Don’t give suggestions if you’re going to get pilots killed.” Exa walks straight past him and towards the used guns. She resumes her slow walk down the isles, and eventually pauses and stares at a pistol for several seconds. “How did you get here?” She picks it up, and with one practiced motion, pops off the slide. 

“What is that?” I ask.

“Reliable. First manufactured 40 years ago, the first five years were great, and then went to shit, selling off the good will they gained and nothing more. This is used, 37 years old.” She inspects every part slowly. “Barrel’s cracked, but we have a spare. You wanted Niel’s gun?”

“Yeah.” I nod.

“Well this isn’t his, but it's the same model, same year.” She reconnects the slide and hands it to me. “How does it feel?”

I take it in my hands and it feels like it was meant for me. It fits perfectly, shaped to my palm. It’s a good weight, the sights are clear.

“It’s perfect.”

“Good.” She nods and takes it back. “I’ll check out, you figure out how you want to relax.”

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