The bar and the people sitting there was dimly visible through the haze of smoke, but standing in the enterance to the Rocket Nozel, Troy knew Washington was there. This bar attracted its customers with the promise of many pleasures that were more than just frowned upon by the law. There were no tourists and few of the other types you could find in the clean nightspots up on level three where most of the citizens of Habitat 6 found thier amusement on Friday nights. The people here were mostly the types one finds in and around space ports. Pilots, Crews, Freeholders, and Cargo Handelers, all smashed together in a room where the temperature of both the air and the tempers was twenty degrees higher inside than it was outside in the hall.
The Rocket Nozel was situated at the end of a long alley that ran between a row of cargo storage whearhouses. It was the only establishment of its kind on level 5. The bar was hard enough to get to that only people who knew of it ever found it. A hand lettered sign above the open door along with a small modle of it's name-sake and the noise customers made were the all that indicated the existance of this gathering spot.
After winding his way through the crowded tables that occupied every inch of space beside the bar, Troy arived at an empty stool covered with slick red plastic and sat down. The surface of the bar was so scratched and cratered by the countless drinks and coins which had slid across its surface that its origional imitation wooden finish was just a faint memory. Now that he was in the midst of it, Troy noticed for the first time the smell that surounded him like a hot towel. It combined the taste of fear and the smell of human sweat with the aromas of every kind of illegal substance that was smoked. Some trick of the lighting combined with the smoke to create the feeling that only a few feet of bar on each side of you existed, that the only objects in this gloom were you and the person on either side of you. Even the noise, a dull roar of voices combining with some loudly violent music that sank to nothingness in the subconsciousness until conversation was attempted, conspired to create a sence of isolation.
Next to Troy sat the officer who he was in this dive to meet. The man at the Aliance District office was execeptionaly friendly, when Troy introduced himself as the new Provisional Defence Reserve Major, but had blanched slightly when he asked to be directed to Habitat 6's P.D.R. wing comander, Timothy James Washington. The official mentioned briefly that the Colonel wasn't in his office but might be found at a bar that most of the P.D.R. pilots frequented. This statement was not true on the Friday night that Major Troice Foster found himself reporting to his superior officer on Habitat 6, because Washington wore the only uniform that Troy could detect in the place beside his own.
The uniform was much like the man who wore it. Streatched and faded in some places, the simple black overall bore Washingtons gold P.D.R. unit patch and and the silver eagle on the colar that marked his rank. Above his powerful shoulders was the only sign that Washington might be nearing his natural age of fifty. His face bore a few lines and several wrinkles might be noticed around Washington's flashing blue-gray eyes. Washington's hair, which was cut in the short style that men had affected thirty years befor, during the Asian-Aliance war, showed signs of silver along the sides of his head where there was barely enough left to detect it.
Washington would see much the same image in Troy. Both men wore the same hair style, Troy wore the same uniform as Washington, yet his was obviosly newer and less worn. Some differences were more obvious than the similarities, such as Troy's almost black eyes. Other differences also separated the two men. Troy was slightly shorter and much thiner; more wirey than strong. Yet there was a quiet confidence about Troy that discouraged most other men's thoughts of violence. This confidence was unconscious, though, more an atribute of the body than of the mind which inhabited it. The black orbs of Troy's eyes were in constant motion, searching, evaluating, and then moving on.
Troy diped into his chest pocket and pulled out a stick of chewing gum. He unwraped and placed the gum in his mouth with an unconscious motion resembeling that of a longtime smoker, then introduced himself.
"Good evening Colonel. I'm Major Troice Foster, your temporary executive officer untill we can find your old one. Do you always greet your new officers in this place?" he shouted.
"Only the last two. When did you arive? I notified Divisional Comand of Major Trentons disapearance two weeks ago yesterday. Mars is a long trip from here."
"I managed to catch a freighter befor it was out of range of a navy cruser. Divisional Comand was disturbed by the disapearance of a P.D.R. pilot on a scouting mission in a region of space where some strange rumors have been filtering back."
"What do you know about Major Trenton's scouting mission?" asked Washington, a hint of suspicion in the lines around his eyes.
"Nothing but what I heard from the freighter's crew, which was mostly nonsence. I heard evrything from a story that she was secretly running drugs to the simple explanation that she was flying a routine scouting mission and had an accident." Washington's eyes relaxed slightly.
"Is there some other place where we might talk, Colonel. I'm really having trouble hearing you," shouted Troy over the din.
"Sure," said Washington as he peered into the gloom as if looking for someone. "Let's go to my place."
Washington put a dolar and two quarters on the bar as they walked out. Troy knew he hadn't had a drink.
Slowly the two shruged their way through the press of the laughing, drinking, screeming, mass that filled the room. Once outside Troy relaxed slightly, though he unconsciously scratched an itch between his shoulder blades. The lights in the hall outside the bar were in the "night" cycle but were just bright enough for Troy to see that he and Washington were alone as they walked past the darkened storage rooms filled with cargo.
"What should I do about quarters while I'm on Habitat 6, Colonel?"
"Since you will be a full time officer while you are here, the P.D.R. will pick up the tab on your rent and give you a small food alowance. I would sugest that you try to get one of the single apartments on level 2 near the Port. That will put you much closer to the launch bay."
After walking several meters from the bar, the two officers arrived at a coridor that ran perpendicular to the axis of Habitat 6's rotation. This coridore was much bigger than the one the two men had just exited. Now the lighing was set to full brightness and there were several cargo modules rolling along on their cariers. Now Troy and Washington were walking along what seemed to be a curved hill that continued to climb untill their view was blocked by the curve of the cealing. After walking past several coridors extending off to the left and the right, the two arrived at an escalator that climbed through the celing to the level above. Looking over the rail, Troy could see a glimps of the bottom or the outer level of the habitat several levels below. Troy experienced a momentary flutter in his stomach as he stepd of the moving walkway and adjusted to his slightly reduced weight.
"Well Major, what should I call you? We're not too formal here on Hab 6. "
"Most people call me Troy when I'm not in uniform, but then I haven't stayed in one place long enough to make many friends."
Washington led the way down a cross coridor and then turned into a narrower passage with a sign above the entrance that named the hallway the "Florence Arcade, 100 - 300".
"Here on level 2 there are just two or three Inns with single rooms. Most of the others are above, on level one. I would suggest that you try the ones here, first. Level one tends to host most of the transients and is a little worn in places. Here we are."
The two men stood befor a door that was much the same as the others in the halway. In the center of the door, at eye level, were the numbers 256 in aqua colors. Beside the door on the wall was a small box with a slot that wasn't much thicker than a peice of paper that accepted a rectangular plastic card. After Washington ran the key through the slot there was a noticable click and the door swung outward a few inches. Washington opened the door and motioned for Troy to enter behind him.
"Hey Dee, I'm home," shouted Washington and then cursed. "What time is it, Troy? The kids go to bed at eight thirty on school nights."
"Its about seven thirty, Colonel," said Troy after he made a brief glance at the black watch he wore on his right wrist, failing to notice the startled look Washington had given his hand, more specificly the golden band with a tiny ruby in the center he wore on his ring finger.
Washington's attention went to his wife as she entered from another room to the right of the entrance hall they had been standing in for the last few moments. The living room, as Troy guessed, was functional as well as warm and comfortable. One whole wall was lined with books of various sizes and degrees of wear. Cushions and sling chairs in various creamy shades were arranged to be both comfortable for conversation as well as for enjoying the local video entertainment. There were several prints of various impressionistic painters from the previous century, but it was the light sculpture hung unobtrusively in one corner that cought Troy's eye. The paterns, colors, and shapes assembled themselves in and behind the glass in wich they were contained. The chaos of their shapes and changes was somehow reasuring.
Now Troy looked at Washington's wife, and briefly cought a questioning look in her soft almond eyes that indicated a Japanese ancestor. Her shoulder length hair was the glosey black of a pool just touched with the moon, yet there was a small hint of gray, issufficent to either add or attract to her beauty. She was half a head shorter than her husband but perfectly proportioned. Washington now introduced Troy, "Honey, this is the temporary executive officer Divisional Command sent to replace Major Trenton, Troice Foster. Troy let me introduce my wife, Diocha Metsuku Washington, Chief environmental engenere here on Habitat 6."
Troy grasped her smooth hand and noticed that Diocha's hands were unadorned except for a thin silver band on one finger as she said, "It is unfortunate we have to meet under these circumstances but other wise let me wealcome you to Habitat 6 and our home. Major Trenton is a good friend as well a fine officer. Hopefully you are just the person to find her."
"Tim, dinner has been ready for several minutes. Why don't you and Troy sit down and I'll get the children to wash their hands," then Diocha was gone into the kitchen.
As Washington and Troy followed her, Troy began to detect the wonderful aroma of the evening meal. Though he couldn't identify any of the particular foods by their smell, Troy's stomach was rumbling as he sat down at the small table in the equaly small kitchen. As Diocha add the finishing touches to some dishes on the heating surface, she told the children, two small girls, to sit and introduce themselves. The youngest was just four years old but Troy found that her name was Miyoko or Micky as her older sister called her befor her shyness prevented her from speaking.
"I'm Six and my name is Jessi. I'm going to school this year. What's your name?" asked the oldest.
"I'm Troy. I finished school already," he said, suddenly smiling.
"Of course you have, you're a 'dult. Do you work for my daddy?"
"Yes. I fly space fighters."
"Do you know Cass? She played with us sometimes but she dis'peared a couple of weeks ago."
"I like Cass," said little Miyoko.
"I never met her but I'm going to help find her."
"You should eat more of your salad and talk less, Jessi." said Diocha with a mild reproof in her voice.
"Aww mom, I'm eatin'."
Washington who had watched the exchange between his daughter and his new executive officer with interest, now began eating and between bites asked Troy, "so Troy, when did you join the P.D.R.?"
"I was in the Aliance Cadets while I was at college. Afterwards I had planned to serve my five years in the P.D.R. and then get my Cargo liscense. Once I began flying, though, I was hooked. I guess its been seven years now."
"Which college did you attend? Most of my pilots attended the Mars Technical Academy in Zeaus."
"I applied there, but I was accepted at Founders college in China Point on Mars."
"China Point is some of our old neighborhood," said Diocha entering the conversation. "Me and Tim went to the Dimple on our first date. That was during the war though, and I'm sure that many things have changed in the city."
"I know the Dimple," said Troy, "it was my first date as well."
The rest of the dinner conversation ranged over all the places in system that the three heald in common with a few interjections by the girls. Diocha seemed unreseredly friendly to Troy, but Washington continued his subtle yet almost suspicious questioning all evening. When the little girls went to bed, Diocha excused herself, as well, mentioning the need for an early start in the morning. Something about the anual preparation for the reseading of the atmosphereic scrubbers.
"I know its late, Sir, but I was wondering if you could fill in the gaps in my information about Major Trenton's mission and her disapearance befor I call it a night," asked Troy as soon as they were alone in the front room.
"I'll give you a sumary, tomorrow. By the way, I decided we should fly a recon tomorrow so that I can get a look at your style. About the missing Major, there's not much to tell. She arived on Habitat 6, five months ago. Ten days ago, the Major asked me for permission to fly a long range solo recon mission to investigate the possibility of a new African colony, whose existance is eluded to in some of the more persistant rumors coming from the Freeholders. Her destination was deep in the belt, eight to ten hours boost outside District G. I was reluctant to authorize such an extended flight plan for a solo mission but Major Trenton managed to convince me."
"The mission was supposed to last only seventy-two hours. When that time was elapsed I notified DivCom that I had a pilot and her fighter missing. Since then I have had recon patrols flown as deep into the belt. Twice I have sent people to the same precise location that she was aiming for, but they found nothing. No sign of the fighter, wreackage, or even of a battle. I've sent all my pilots on training missions along her suposed course ever since but I have no sign."
"What African forces are in the region? Is it possible that she found something and then was forced to retreat untill her fuel ran out?" asked Troy.
"It is possible that someone was out there to greet her but we found no sign of any spacecraft at all. I'm open to any suggestions you might have," Washington seemed truely puzzled.
"I have a few ideas but I'd like to look at the Major's flight plan befor shine the light of day on them. If we're going to fly tomorrow I guess I better get a room and get to bed," suddenly Troy was anxious to be gone, "Where would you recomend I try?"
"Go back to the cross avenue that runs past the escalator and turn left, away from it and look for a hallway with a sign above it that says A and W Inn. Tell Sam who you are and he will take care of the arrangements. Sam is one of my pilots and he is also maintenence officer."
"Thanks, Sir. Where shall we meet, tomorrow?"
"Have Sam take you to the hanger and I'll meet you there. Goodnight," said Washington as he walked Troy to the door.
The accomidations were nearly what he had expected. Sam was as helpful as Washington had claimed he would be. Within moments he had sent for Troy's bagage from the personal storage area, assigned Troy to a room, and arranged for it all to be paid for by the P.D.R. All the while Sam had given an extensive description of all the rumors that surrounded Trenton's dissapearance, all of which Troy had heard befor, either not noticing or cairing that Troy's only coment since entering the Inn's office was the statement of his name, rank, and a request for a room. Soon Troy was standing alone in the dimly lit room that would be his home for the next two weeks.
The room contained a chair, a network terminal that also provided entertainment, a bed, and three light fixtures. There was a small open closet at the side of the room oposite the door and the tiny bathroom with a sink, mirror, and shower. The room had no windows but the ventilation was fine and if he was really board he could turn the video display into a window looking out on any sceen he desired.
Iminsely tired, almost depressed, now that he was alone, Troy sat down befor the terminal and turned it on. Suddenly, in the air above his hands, a white screen appeared offering him a huge list of options, ranging from requests for access to various discussion groups to a menu of the evenings video entertainment options. After searching through the list for a moment, Troy said, "Retrieve Mail", out loud. The screen cleared, momentarily, and then stated that no mail had arrived for him. He then cheacked the public advertisements for any that might be aimed at him and found nothing. Troy cursed quietly, then more loudly. How in the hell did Cass expect him to rescue her if he had no more information to go on than what Washington knew. He cursed again as he turned the terminal off, wishing his bags would arive, that he knew where Cass was, that he didn't know so much about her disapearance yet know so little.
Cassandra Trenton had an older brother and sister. The brother, Wiliam, was a young but rising star in the Aliance Navy. There were rumors that he was destined to be the next head of the Navy's darkest division, Internal Security. Troy laughed hollowly at that thought but continued the exercise. The older sister was also a rising star but that was in the realm of interplanetary politics. Wiliam had been on a sabatical for the past six months and had disapeared from the solar system completely. Casandra was also in the Aliance Navy, at least until 6 months ago, when for mysterious reasons She had been discharged and had joined the P.D.R. to be sent to one of the aliance outposts near the Jovian asteroid belt. All these facts were available to anyone armed with the right questions and a good computer.
Two facts that were so secrete that they almost did not exist, were that Casandra Trenton had not been discharged from the Aliance Navy, that she was actualy a deep cover Internal Security agent, and that her brother was looking for her in the persona of a P.D.R. Major named Troice Foster.
Copyright 2000, Robert G. Werner
robert@inreachtech.net
Joshu: What is the true Way?
Nansen: Every way is the true Way.
J: Can I study it?
N: The more you study, the further from the Way.
J: If I don't study it, how can I know it?
N: The Way does not belong to things seen: nor to things unseen.
It does not belong to things known: nor to things unknown. Do
not seek it, study it, or name it. To find yourself on it, open
yourself as wide as the sky.