Read Online Dance by the Light of the Moon by Milo James Fowler - Free Book Online
Authors: Milo James Fowler
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When
she first caught the blip on her proximity scanner, Eyan thought one of the
drillbots had broken loose and was drifting by its tether from Futuro's
underside. Nothing the control team couldn't handle—a small blot on an
otherwise pristine moonscape as it swept upward, reeled into the launch bay.
But they notified her on internal comms as soon as they had the situation under
control, requesting her presence immediately.
In
all her lifetimes as station security chief, she'd never seen anything like it.
Now
as she stood outside the portside airlock and waited for the visitor to
complete his pressure equalization sequence, Eyan found herself at a loss. She
played her recent conversation with Dr. Hammersmith over again in her mind,
hoping to make sense of things.
"Deal
with this," he'd said crisply via Link, his voice resonating from the
subdermal implant behind Eyan's left ear. "Make it disappear."
"I
haven't completed my investigation, sir. There is no need to send—"
"He
will arrive within the hour. I expect you to make every effort not to impede
his investigation in any way. He'll get the job done, I'm sure."
"Am
I being replaced, sir?"
"Nonsense,"
he'd been quick to respond. "You know how the UW mucky mucks can be.
They've insisted on an impartial observer, that's all."
"I
am still in charge of the investigation, then."
Silence
held the moment. "I'll let him explain the situation to you when he
arrives. Rest assured, Eyan, you'll still have your job when this is
over—provided Hammersmith Enterprises is not deemed liable for any
damages."
On
that note, he'd abruptly ended the transmission.
Damages.
Liability. All too much to be bothered with in the eyes of Earth's greatest
entrepreneur. Eyan couldn't help wondering if Dr. Hammersmith had sold his soul
in the bargain when he'd won sole rights to the moon's titanium ore deposits
over fifty years ago, managing to outbid the entire Eastern Conglomerate and
garner the favor of the United World extraterrestrial acquisitions board.
But
she knew she was the last person to question another's soul.
The
airlock door slid open automatically with a rush of stagnate air. Eyan raised
her chin, hands clasped behind her back, expecting to see a soft little
bureaucrat in a bulky pressure suit come forth—they always overdressed for the
occasion, believing they could be sucked out into space at any moment. Instead,
it was a bald, barefoot monk with a face as white and devoid of expression as
the robe he wore.
Eyan
expected to hear herself say, "Welcome to Futuro 2," but her eyes
immediately caught the scabbard slung across the man's back, and she blurted
out, "Weapons are not allowed here." How had he managed to check such
a thing through shuttle security?
"Projectile
weapons. Of course." He met her gaze briefly with an air of indifference
and entered a command code for the unmanned shuttle to return to Earth.
"One would be a fool to risk puncturing the hull of this station."
Eyan
tried to read the look in his dark eyes, but it was difficult; they seemed to
lack irises. Being adept at translating body language, she could tell he had
nothing at stake here, and he did not recognize her authority over him.
"Welcome
to Futuro 2, Mr.—"
"Cade."
He strode past her, arms across his abdomen with hands tucked into the generous
sleeves of his robe. His bare feet made no sound as they pressed against the
cold plasteel floor. "What lifetime is this?"
With
a frown at his complete disregard for protocol—one did not enter Futuro 2 and
strike out on one's own without an escort—Eyan moved to overtake the slight
fellow and extended her hand, leading the way to the conference room. "Dr.
Hammersmith regrets being unable to meet you in person, but we have a vidLink
set up—"
"I
will meet with the crew first." He did not acknowledge her with even a
glance. He seemed, by all appearances, to be counting rivets along the floor,
walls, and ceiling of the corridor. "You have not answered
she first caught the blip on her proximity scanner, Eyan thought one of the
drillbots had broken loose and was drifting by its tether from Futuro's
underside. Nothing the control team couldn't handle—a small blot on an
otherwise pristine moonscape as it swept upward, reeled into the launch bay.
But they notified her on internal comms as soon as they had the situation under
control, requesting her presence immediately.
In
all her lifetimes as station security chief, she'd never seen anything like it.
Now
as she stood outside the portside airlock and waited for the visitor to
complete his pressure equalization sequence, Eyan found herself at a loss. She
played her recent conversation with Dr. Hammersmith over again in her mind,
hoping to make sense of things.
"Deal
with this," he'd said crisply via Link, his voice resonating from the
subdermal implant behind Eyan's left ear. "Make it disappear."
"I
haven't completed my investigation, sir. There is no need to send—"
"He
will arrive within the hour. I expect you to make every effort not to impede
his investigation in any way. He'll get the job done, I'm sure."
"Am
I being replaced, sir?"
"Nonsense,"
he'd been quick to respond. "You know how the UW mucky mucks can be.
They've insisted on an impartial observer, that's all."
"I
am still in charge of the investigation, then."
Silence
held the moment. "I'll let him explain the situation to you when he
arrives. Rest assured, Eyan, you'll still have your job when this is
over—provided Hammersmith Enterprises is not deemed liable for any
damages."
On
that note, he'd abruptly ended the transmission.
Damages.
Liability. All too much to be bothered with in the eyes of Earth's greatest
entrepreneur. Eyan couldn't help wondering if Dr. Hammersmith had sold his soul
in the bargain when he'd won sole rights to the moon's titanium ore deposits
over fifty years ago, managing to outbid the entire Eastern Conglomerate and
garner the favor of the United World extraterrestrial acquisitions board.
But
she knew she was the last person to question another's soul.
The
airlock door slid open automatically with a rush of stagnate air. Eyan raised
her chin, hands clasped behind her back, expecting to see a soft little
bureaucrat in a bulky pressure suit come forth—they always overdressed for the
occasion, believing they could be sucked out into space at any moment. Instead,
it was a bald, barefoot monk with a face as white and devoid of expression as
the robe he wore.
Eyan
expected to hear herself say, "Welcome to Futuro 2," but her eyes
immediately caught the scabbard slung across the man's back, and she blurted
out, "Weapons are not allowed here." How had he managed to check such
a thing through shuttle security?
"Projectile
weapons. Of course." He met her gaze briefly with an air of indifference
and entered a command code for the unmanned shuttle to return to Earth.
"One would be a fool to risk puncturing the hull of this station."
Eyan
tried to read the look in his dark eyes, but it was difficult; they seemed to
lack irises. Being adept at translating body language, she could tell he had
nothing at stake here, and he did not recognize her authority over him.
"Welcome
to Futuro 2, Mr.—"
"Cade."
He strode past her, arms across his abdomen with hands tucked into the generous
sleeves of his robe. His bare feet made no sound as they pressed against the
cold plasteel floor. "What lifetime is this?"
With
a frown at his complete disregard for protocol—one did not enter Futuro 2 and
strike out on one's own without an escort—Eyan moved to overtake the slight
fellow and extended her hand, leading the way to the conference room. "Dr.
Hammersmith regrets being unable to meet you in person, but we have a vidLink
set up—"
"I
will meet with the crew first." He did not acknowledge her with even a
glance. He seemed, by all appearances, to be counting rivets along the floor,
walls, and ceiling of the corridor. "You have not answered
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