Intersection: Joe Ballen, Book Four: Joe Ballen, #4

By David M. Kelly

Where deception and betrayal meet...

 

Joe Ballen is taking it easy as head of engineering on the new giant space station at Alpha Centauri, or at least as easy as it ever gets for Joe. One thing he's sure of though—he's out of the hero game for good.

But on a routine visit back to Earth, one of Joe's oldest acquaintances is killed, followed almost immediately by a brutal terrorist attack. Forced to take desperate measures, Joe survives by the slimmest of margins.

And when he uncovers a secret message from an unusual source, Joe must undertake a deep space journey filled with deceit and danger to uncover the secrets behind the murder and attacks. But with a potential war looming, will he survive long enough to find the answers?

 

The Joe Ballen series is a near future, sci-fi noir thriller series, featuring a smart-mouthed space engineer, engaging characters, cynical humor, and plausible science.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David M. Kelly
• Release date: Jul 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781777801106

David M. Kelly

David M. Kelly writes intelligent, action-packed science fiction. He is the author of the Joe Ballen series (Mathematics of Eternity and Perimeter) as well as the short story collection Dead Reckoning And Other Stories. Originally from the wild and woolly region of Yorkshire, England, David now lives in wild and rocky Northern Ontario, Canada, with his patient and long-suffering wife, Hilary. He’s passionate about science, especially astronomy and physics, and is a rabid science news follower. When not writing, you can find him driving his own personal starship, a 1991 Corvette ZR-1, or exploring the local hiking trails.

Book preview

One

I knew date night was over the moment I saw Jimmy Chong's moon-shaped face in the decorative, circular mirror. He hovered near the entrance to the dimly lit Imperial Dragon restaurant and peered around, undoubtedly looking for me. But it was Dollie's first night back from her latest run to Earth, and I'd deliberately left my Scroll in our apartment.

She placed her chopsticks on the ornately patterned serving plate with a click, swallowing a morsel of her Spider Rolls. Everything okay?

I slid my chair sideways a little, to keep her between me and Chong. The walls of the restaurant were a moving Solido projection that complemented the small lake outside, making it appear as though the building was on an island surrounded by water, while the roof above showed a sky teeming with soaring dragons. I hoped the visuals would throw my deputy off and he'd fail to spot me amid the red and gold decoration. Chong just came in.

Dollie frowned. I thought you took the night off?

Something must have come up.

Well, let him handle it. You're not the only engineer here.

She was right. My position as head of engineering meant I was responsible for the operation of the entire station, but right now I didn't want to know about the problem. It got lonely when Dollie was on her supply trips, and I was looking forward to sharing some intimate time with her. If he's searching for me though, it must be serious.

A skilled engineer, with an easy-going manner that made him a good middle-manager, Chong was experienced enough that I let him handle many of the day-to-day operations on Taikong Gaogu. He was also a little older than many of the station personnel, the PanAsian Confederation being more eager to ship off its younger population than those who were more entrenched in their existing lives.

I scooped up one of my tempura shrimp and chewed on its delicate flavor. It wasn't shrimp in the sense that it had been fished out of an ocean. The water tanks that formed the station's four outer layers were there purely to provide the population with drinking water and serve as a radiation barrier. Despite that, PAC companies were past-masters at growing artificial meat, and shellfish was one of their specialties, a bonus for any of their employees with a seafood habit like mine.

I edged to the left, peeking around Dollie and a red, tasseled lantern hanging from the roof. There was no sign of Chong. Hopefully he'd taken his search elsewhere.

He's gone, I whispered.

Good. Dollie raised her eyebrows, her full lips curving into a pout. I have designs on your body after dinner.

You think I'm that easy?

Absolutely.

The Imperial Dragon was one of our favorite spots, located on level two, one down from the high-end housing sited at the middle of the hollow station. This deck had a similar amount of landscaping to the high-rent zone, but to me it seemed a better approximation of Earth because the odd effect of the ground curving into the sky above was hidden by the fake sky roof.

Our table was near the back of the restaurant next to one of the windows. At this time of day, the lighting was emulating sunset, painting the water a vivid pink, mixed with greeny blues. It was an amazing effect, made more realistic by the fresh breeze drifting off the real water outside. The lakes were one of the station's best features, even though they were a pain in the ass to maintain.

I raised my cup of baijiu in a toast. Welcome home.

"Ganbei." She clicked her cup against mine and swallowed the contents in one.

I did the same and reached for the bottle to refill our glasses.

Please excuse this one. Chong appeared from behind a thick bamboo plant, bowing slightly. There is a big problem, Mr. Ballen.

Dollie gave Chong a look that would have withered the most determined of people, but he was focused on me.

What is it, Jimmy? His body language told me it was serious. Spit it out.

He looked puzzled for a moment, then appeared to realize I wasn't actually asking him to spit. We must avoid panic.

I glanced at Dollie, and she shook her head as if warning me not to go. I certainly didn't want to but slid my seat back and stood. Chong made for the door, and I hesitated. Dollie's face looked like a thunderstorm closing in, with me set to be at the center of the maelstrom.

I shrugged. This should only take a minute.

She didn't reply, and I hurried after Chong, eager to get him off my back.

He was outside smoking a pungent SootheStick and looked up as I came out. Sorry, boss.

"When are you going to start calling me Ballen? The rank smell of burnt lemongrass in the smoke tingled my nose. What's the problem?"

Chong shuffled. We've lost comms with one of the WT100s.

The WT100s were robot barges that fetched raw materials from the asteroid mining operations. Okay, send a tug to pull it in for repairs.

It's already on its way in.

So what's the problem?

Collision course. Chong took a long pull on his SootheStick and blew it out slowly. Impact in three hours.

How the hell did it get so close without anyone knowing it was faulty?

It was working fine until about thirty minutes ago. Chong shrugged. Then it failed a routine comm check. The techs are trying to re-establish control, but it doesn't look good.

Blow it up.

Destruct circuits are dead. Chong examined the gravel below his feet. Besides, it's too close.

Now I knew why he looked so sheepish. When the asteroid mining project first started, I'd recommended the barges were equipped with a secondary backup control system and had been overruled. If the barge was as close as he said, the point defense systems would be virtually useless too, as destroying it would create a cloud of debris that would tear through large sections of the station. And with so little time, it would be impossible to move out of its path.

What does Iwasaki say?

The commander has ordered evacuation of the docking ring, and areas adjacent. Chong shook his head. I don't think there's enough time.

Iwasaki was the municipal leader and ran the station with a strict by-the-book approach. His background was one hundred percent military, and imagination wasn't one of his strong points. It was his decision not to implement the backups, claiming it was too costly, but the truth was he didn't like me. And although the PAC had signed up as part of the Combined Earth Settlement Authority, he still treated Dollie and me like the enemy.

If we lose the ring, the station will be shut down. A chill breeze seemed to crawl up my back. And if we can't get supplies in, people will be dying in short order.

While the station's systems were designed to ruthlessly recycle, filter, and scrub as much of its atmosphere and water supplies as possible, we were dependent on the steady flow of raw materials from the nearby Liànzi asteroid field.

Chong crushed his SootheStick into the receptacle by the restaurant entrance, then lit another. I've explained, but...

I shook my head, imagining the response Chong would have received from Iwasaki, and knowing all too well that the engineer would always defer to his authority, no matter how bad a decision it was.

So, what do you want from me? We have an entire crew. Hasn't anyone got any ideas?

Chong’s face flushed and he cleared his throat. They think it's too late and the only option is evacuation.

And lose half the station?

I glanced back at the restaurant. Dollie would be wondering where the hell I'd got to. But if nothing stopped the barge, the whole section could blow out.

I'll be at docking port eleven in—I checked the time—seven minutes. Make sure there's a Hopper ready for me. And get my wife to safety.

What are you going to do? Chong's mouth was hanging open.

I grimaced. The impossible.

Without looking back, I jogged to the nearest elevator, the movement making me dizzy as the station spun lazily on its axis. I stabbed the button for the floor connecting to the docking ports, and felt giddier as the elevator rapidly rose toward the center of the drum that made up what was called the eastern section of Taikong Gaogu.

What took the most getting used to in a rotating habitat was the odd shifts in gravity. For the most part, it wasn't pronounced, but as you moved into or out from the center, the gravity decreased and increased. Do that slowly and you didn't notice it, but do it fast and it could leave you as wobbly as a cruise passenger experiencing their first Nor'wester.

When I reached the center, I was in ZeeGee and my stomach settled. I've plenty of experience in microgravity. It was only moving between the different levels of spin that affected me. The docking ring was a stationary structure between the two contra-rotating east and west sections. Spokes led to a ring of docking bays, both large industrial ones, as well as the smaller ones used by passenger ships or maintenance vessels. Eleven was one of the latter, but more significantly, the one closest to my suit locker.

The locker area was deserted, not surprising given the fact that a thousand tonnes of assorted asteroid ore was scheduled to arrive like an out-of-control express train at any moment. My locker slid open when I brushed my thumb over the lock, and the rack trundled out holding my suit.

This wasn't my old suit that had taken me through many years of working in space. After my adventures on and off the Shokasta, that one was so beat up that not even its mother would have loved it. Luckily, when I took on the job of herding cats on Taikong Gaogu, the Nakaji-Wei company insisted on equipping the senior staff with brand new suits, complete with the finest lime green corporate color scheme. While the color reminded me of the aftereffects of too much cheap vodka, it was certainly a good high-viz option, and the suits themselves were decent quality.

After pulling on the lower half, I wriggled into the upper, locked the connecting ring closed, and moved toward the airlock holding my helmet. If Chong had done his job there'd be a Hopper sealed against the outside. I clicked my helmet in place and switched the comm-set to a frequency usually used for diagnostic purposes by control technicians.

Bob, where are you and the boys?

Waddya want, ya bum?

The voice had a distinct Brooklyn accent. LocRep. Immediately.

I'm scanning the outer shell, rib thirty-three, one-seven-nine degrees. Harry's over by—

Joe? Is that you? Harry's voice cut in. Boy it's good to hear from you again. We've been working on the outer surface scans for weeks now.

This gig is for the boids, Bob said. Never anything to blow up.

Bob, Harry, and the third in the team, Moses, had originally been part of the mining operation I'd worked on at my last job. Technically, their programming belonged to that project, but I always liked to keep my own backups. I'd uploaded them into three of the maintenance bots and had them running safety checks outside.

Sorry, Bob, but we've got some excitement happening. Thought you guys might want in on the fun.

We're going to blow something up? See, I told you not to bad-mouth Joe when he wasn't around. Harry was always the most tolerant of the three personalities.

Not exactly. I glanced at the display showing the outside of the airlock. A crew Hopper was docked there, and I silently sent thanks to Chong. Mose? Where are you?

Hello, Joe. I'm at the West solar array, section five.

As usual, Moses sounded like his pet cat had died. I checked my mental picture of the station. He was too far away to get to us. Okay, you stay put. We'll handle things.

Ballen? The new voice had the unmistakable sharp, nasal quality identifying it as Reiji Iwasaki, the station leader. Report to me your whereabouts, please.

I'm in heaven...

I have no patience for your injudicious attitude, Mr. Ballen. We have a serious situation on our hands.

The airlock slid open and I pulled myself through, squirming over to the pilot's chair and strapping myself in. Injudicious? That's a new one. I'm aware of the problem.

How quickly can we evacuate the docking ring and surrounding areas?

Not fast enough, and if you make a public announcement we'll lose as many people in the panic as the collision.

Iwasaki was silent for a minute. We are making every effort to contact the rogue barge. The technicians tell me they're confident that given time they can regain control.

After closing the airlock, I undocked the Hopper, spinning the craft around and moving away from the station. Time was the one thing we didn't have. Let me know how that works out for you.

I brought up a list of transponder IDs and picked out the nearest. When I checked its approach, it was closer than I'd expected. Iwasaki's men must have sat on this before releasing the information.

Ballen? Have you left the station? Iwasaki's voice was tight with scorn. I have a report from traffic control of the launch of an unauthorized utility vehicle.

Donut run. Want me to pick you something up?

Whatever madness you're planning, Ballen, I advise you to reconsider and leave it to the people who know how to handle these things.

I made several squeaks and buzzes. Please repeat. I'm having difficulty with the radiation. I switched channels to talk to the bots. Bob, Harry? I'm in Hopper HG-665A. Lock on my signal and hold station. It's Friday night and we're going to run blocker.

You're nuts, it's Tuesday, Bob's voice came back.

Just do it, Bob. We're short on time.

Alright already, don't lose your chute.

Ten minutes later, the ball-like bots sidled up alongside the Hopper. Grab on, I said. No point you guys burning up your fuel.

A couple of metallic clunks reverberated through the hull as they fastened themselves to the craft, and I double-checked the barge's trajectory. It was closing steadily, and I wasn't sure we'd get there in time to do anything useful. After feeding the numbers into the flight computer, I told it to execute a long burn to close in quickly. It was a wasteful maneuver, but every second would make a difference.

The gray surface of the eastern section slipped under the ship as we hurtled forward. The acceleration was hard enough to push me back into the seat, but I wished I had more Delta-V available.

As we traveled, I ran through the options. I could move in front and use the Hopper's engines to slow the barge, but a few calculations told me that wouldn't be enough to stop it in time. The difficulty was overcoming the inertia involved. The barges were twenty meters long and ten wide. Loaded they had about as much mass as an office block. Not something to simply bat away.

I did some ball-park calculations. At thirty meters per second, the barge had a force of a medium-sized asteroid, and the Hopper didn't have enough Delta-V to stop it, even with Bob and Harry helping. Luckily, I wasn't planning on stopping it.

It took over an hour to match speeds with the barge. By that time, the ranging system told me there was less than sixty minutes until impact. Precious little time to do what was necessary.

Barges were rudimentary vehicles with a thin shell supported by a frame of girders to provide the rigidity for handling. I brought the Hopper up to the barge's framework and used the manipulator arms to grab it from below at the waist supports—the strongest part.

The tubes were pitted and scraped from multiple trips to the asteroid mines, making me wonder how well the skin would hold up to the inertia of the ore inside when I tried to move it. I directed Bob and Harry to grab hold of the front and rear stanchions and was all set to give the word when my comm-set buzzed into life again.

I don't believe you stood me up, you bastard. It was Dollie, and she sounded madder than hell. How could you leave me like that?

I didn't have time to explain. I'll make it up to you.

"You couldn't resist the chance to be a hero again, could you?"

It's not like that. I stiffened at Dollie's frosty tone. I'm trying to save the station.

You should have married this station instead of me. You spend more time taking care of it.

Can we discuss this later? A strident edge slipped into my voice.

You think there'll be a later, Joe Ballen?

There might not be if I didn't start soon. Dollie—tell me you're safe.

I'm in one of the emergency refuges, away from the docking ring, if that's what you mean. Her voice dropped two full octaves. But if you get killed doing another crazy stunt, don't expect me to—

I cut her off, feeling like the bastard she thought I was. Bob, Harry? Get ready to push. In five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Not daring to trust the autopilot with such a move, I controlled the Hopper's thrusters by hand, ramping the throttles up to full. The ship shuddered, bucking against the barge's framing with the remote manipulator arms locked around the thickest stanchion.

Hey, Ballen. It was Bob. It ain't moving much, you schmuck. This was your big plan?

Don't talk to Joe like that, you bully, Harry hissed. He's doing his best.

I checked the range. We'd already passed the end of the east drum, which meant that we were around six minutes from colliding. To make things worse, the damn barge had started rolling along its axis, like a slowly turning bullet. It was likely down to the uneven forces we'd applied pushing it. Normally the barge's attitude thrusters would have countered the movement, but they were off-line too. And the Hopper's systems wouldn't have the power to compensate.

Grabbing a remote unit, I clipped it onto my belt, then snagged the seal on my helmet closed. Hang on, guys. I'm going to take a little walk.

I unclipped my harness and floated over to the airlock door. On a ship this small there was no inner and outer hatch, and the usual procedure for doing an EVA was to bleed the atmosphere from the whole cabin, but that would take precious minutes.

Instead, I hit the emergency release and moved away as the display flashed red—the warning counting down from ten. I locked my arms around a stanchion as the timer hit zero. A loud bang sounded, immediately dying as the door blew out and the air left the compartment.

The turbulence lasted only a few seconds. The inside of the Hopper wasn't big enough to contain a lot of atmosphere. A rim of hoarfrost formed around the airlock's metal frame as the moisture in the air flash froze.

What was that? Harry called out. You okay, Joe?

Sure. You know me, I'm like a cat. One that had already used up six or seven of its lives, I thought.

That dope is just about smart enough to be dangerous, Bob sniped.

I swung through the door and curled around onto the Hopper's outer hull. As with all spaceships, the hull was dotted with emergency handholds, and I used them to drag myself onto the barge's giant frame.

There was a central brain that controlled the autopilot functions at the top of the ship. It didn't provide much hope but was the only trick I had left. I didn't dare float free and was forced to waste time scrambling up and around the frame to the other side of the ship. But without a maneuvering unit I'd float away on the first thrust.

The control panel was where it should be, and I removed the fasteners holding the cover on. I had an almost irresistible urge to look up and check how far off we were, and fought not to. The circuits inside were neatly packaged and not readily accessible, but I had a hammer on my belt. After smashing the covers off the connectors, I prized the wires free.

Hey, dumbass, Bob muttered. We're getting close.

One wire was red, while the others were color mapped. I tried to remember which colors were hooked up to the different circuits, and in the dim light picked out the blue wire that triggered the front thrusters. They were designed to maneuver the barge, and we might have a chance if I could use them to slow it down. I wrapped my legs around the framing and crossed the wires over. When they connected, I was pushed back as the rear thrusters ignited, accelerating the barge forward, and I snatched the wires apart again.

Okay, not blue. Pinpricks of sweat floated away from my forehead. How about orange?

I crossed the second pair of wires and yelled as the forward thrusters kicked in. We were slowing now, though that didn't mean we were clear—there wasn't enough time to stop the damn thing. I dug out the connectors for the thrusters situated on the same side as the bots.

When I shout, give it everything you have, guys. But be ready to stop.

Looking ahead, I could make out small details on the docking ring. The barge was rolling, making about one revolution every thirty seconds. We needed to synchronize the thrusts so they shifted the trajectory up and over the docking ring. Get it wrong and we'd plummet into the station.

Now! I jammed the second wire against the live, simultaneously triggering the Hopper's thrusters by remote. The acceleration pushed me against the framework as the barge moved upward. Fifteen seconds later, I cut the thrust.

All we could do was wait until the barge completed another roll, but as soon as it was the right way up, I triggered the thrusters again. The barge was rising, and I held the thrust as long as I dared. By the time I stopped, individual panels on the docking ports were visible. We'd have one last shot and that was it.

Ready, guys? I held back until we were in the right orientation. Now.

The thrusters kicked in. The front of the barge came up and slid past the edge of the ring, scraping off several sensor dishes and communications aerials. I let out a whoop as the docking ring slid under us. We were clear and headed for deep space. I separated the wires and clipped the remote unit back to my belt.

Let's head home. I believe we've earned ourselves a cold one.

Jeez, did anyone ever tell you you're a drunk, Ballen?

I laughed at Bob's assessment. Many times.

Then my laugh turned to a groan. Now I'd have to face Dollie.

Two

It took a couple of hours to return to the station. I'd used up a lot of delta-v, and they had to send a second unit to bring me in. As I'd blown the airlock door, I couldn't dock and was forced to enter through one of the personnel 'locks.

As I was racking my suit, Chong and Iwasaki strolled into the locker room. Chong hung back but was clearly fighting down a big grin. Iwasaki on the other hand looked at me like he'd caught me with my pants around my ankles in his daughter's bedroom.

There is at least sixty thousand credits' worth of damage. And that section of the docking ring won't be usable until the systems are repaired. Iwasaki peered along his nose at me. It was a foolhardy attempt, and we still need to recover that barge—that will incur additional expense, but it cannot be allowed to roam freely as a traffic hazard.

I smiled. I agree.

You have a casual insolence in your manner, Mr. Ballen. It does not become one with such a lofty position.

You're right. I should have let the barge take out half the station instead.

That is not the point. Your actions were irresponsible and potentially dangerous.

Only to myself.

Do you have any idea of the repercussions should a former USP citizen living on Taikong Gaogu be killed while engaging in narcissistic acts?

Is this the right time to review the policy on control system backups? I said.

A flush darkened Iwasaki's cheeks, and his hand dropped, clutching at the security alarm on his belt. He seemed to be fighting with the urge to trigger it. Then, without a word, he spun on his heel and marched off, leaving me feeling as though I'd missed my own execution by millimeters. I took several deep breaths, allowing my blood pressure to drop, then grinned. You're welcome.

That was incredible, boss. Chong slapped my shoulder like I was his long-lost brother. You rode that barge in western style. You should have been wearing a cowboy hat.

I drew away from his over-enthusiastic camaraderie and rolled my shoulder. It was over two years since Logan had arranged for me to receive the Cynetic replacement for the arm I'd lost, but it was still flaky. Although the arm functioned well enough, the control interface was prone to misreading neural signals, and sometimes rewarded my attempts to use it to its fullest with agonizing feedback.

Chong pulled back sheepishly. Sorry, boss. I forget.

That was understandable. I forgot myself sometimes, when it was working right. Although the innards were metal and composites, it was covered with a synthetic, flesh-like material that gave it a natural appearance. At least from a meter or so away.

No worries. The arm's due for routine calibration tests and feeling sensitive. I think it senses my discomfort at being treated like a guinea pig.

Chong nodded sympathetically. Come on, the kaoliang's on me.

Kaoliang was a sweet distilled liquor, the PAC equivalent of western whiskey or gin. I'd not tasted it before coming to work on the station, but I'd come to appreciate its delicious vanilla flavor and knock-out punch.

I should find Dollie. Let her know I'm okay.

Just one. The hero must enjoy his reward!

My willpower was draining as quickly as a bottle of the liquor would, and I couldn't resist Chong's urging. Okay. But definitely only one. I'm in enough trouble as it is. And I'm not a hero.

Two hours later, I staggered back to our quarters in the third residential level. After the first drink with Chong, enough people in the bar had realized who I was and what I'd done—mostly because my deputy was drunkenly telling anyone who'd listen about the day's events. Each time the story got bigger and led to more toasts and drinks.

I crept into the apartment, trying to be quiet, though my head was buzzing so much I was sure Dollie would hear it. The bedroom door was closed, and I certainly wasn't in any fit state to disturb her. After taking my shoes off, I wobbled across to the couch and lowered myself gingerly.

My ass had barely touched the parahyde surface when I heard a click, and the bedroom door opened. Dollie stepped out, her lithe body pleasantly silhouetted through her negligee by the soft light from the bedroom.

Oh... hi. Sorry I'm late. Didn't want to wake you. Even in my half-befuddled state it was a struggle not to ogle her. Something came up. I had to—

I saw the news. Dollie folded her arms.

This is our home, I was protecti—

Shut up, Joe. I don't want to hear your excuses.

Well, I... That is, it was. People kept forcing drinks on me—had to be polite.

What day is this? Her voice was cold.

My head scrambled to understand what she meant. It wasn't any of our anniversaries. Definitely wasn't her birthday. In fact I couldn't think of a single significant event related to the date. I shook my head to clear the kaoliang-induced fog.

Dollie waited a few minutes. It's date night, remember? The edge in her voice softened. And I've been waiting for my man to come home and take care of me.

Oh, was my inspired rejoinder.

Dollie tugged the ribbon on her negligee, which slid to the floor. To the victor the spoils.

I didn't need a second hint and dragged myself off the couch. She pulled me into her arms and kissed me.

Mmmmm... are you planning to take advantage of a poor defenseless man? I said.

Several times. She pulled me into the bedroom.

*

You've matured, I said, the following morning.

Dollie lifted an eyebrow. Is that your way of telling me I'm getting old?

It happens to everyone. But no. I was nestling a mug of coffee in my hands. At one time, you'd have accused me of chasing after other women last night. But you didn't.

I trust you, Joe. I always have. Dollie scooped some grapefruit up from her bowl and swallowed it. I don't trust other women.

That's understandable. Especially when they're around someone as naturally attractive as me.

She lifted her elegant leg and poked my belly with her toe. You're carrying a bit of penalty weight these days, soldier.

I glanced down and sighed. She was right—it was time to increase the exercise to alcohol ratio again. As head of engineering on the station, I spent less time in the field and didn't burn off calories the way I used to.

Is that your way of telling me I'm getting fat?

Dollie wrinkled her nose. Yes. And very unattractive I might add.

I suppose you'd prefer some young stud?

Nah, you're good. Like a comfortable pair of old slippers.

I gulped on my coffee. Thanks.

She pushed her breakfast bowl to one side and leaned over, brushing her fingers over my cheek. I lost you once. I don't intend doing it again.

I hoped she meant it. When are you leaving?

Not for a week. There's been a delay on the quantum processor production line.

Perfect. I can hitch a lift with you to the High-Rig for the calibration tests.

A serious look came across Dollie's face. "You'd have to spend over a week on board Bubbles with no one but me. Do you think you can cope with that after being with me for a whole week here?"

With Dollie running supplies back and forth between Proxima B and Earth, her schedule often meant we only got a few days together when she had a stopover. Bubbles was the name she'd given her JumpShip, named after a painting by one of her favorite pin-up artists, Zoë Mozert. When she was Earth-bound, her usual cargo was high-quality quantum processors produced in the ZeeGee levels of Taikong Gaogu, but coming the other way, it was high-end luxury goods and occasionally low-level VIPs.

It's a tough challenge, but someone has to do it.

*

A week later, we were ready for the journey to Earth. I hadn't been back since the last calibration session twelve months ago. I didn't have any family there and, unlike Dollie, no friends either—apart from Logan and Aurore, who were busy making Kwelengsen a livable settlement.

While Dollie supervised the loading of her ship, I headed to the office to make sure everything was in order before I left.

The repairs to the docking ring will be complete before you return, Chong said. Then we can start opening up sections eighteen through twenty-three on Level One West. And you want an inspection on the seals on the number three reservoir on the east drum?

That's critical, I said. With the increase in population, we're getting near capacity on one and two. I want to bring it online next month. You better schedule more ice deliveries too, so we'll be ready.

Level one on both the east and west drums was designated for high-end luxury residences, and although the existing apartments weren't maxed out, Iwasaki had let us know to expect another influx of the richer members of PAC society. As the situation on