Spin the Sky (2 page)

“This is not good. There is something wrong with this place,” Asia says flatly, her black eyes flickering as she reads what the comm flashes onto her retina.

I don’t want to hear that there is anything wrong. I want her to shut up and tell me everything was going to be peachy keen and they are serving ice cream in two hours, but it would never occur to Asia to sugarcoat the truth.

“This orbital is functional. It is small but there is air. There is power,” she says slowly in that precise way she had about her. “We may be able to dock and repair our ship here. But it is not geosynchronous.”

We give her a bunch of blank looks. Asia shuts her eyes and looks annoyed for a minute before explaining. “It does not revolve at a fixed point above Earth like normal orbitals with Earth standard days. This colony is heliosynchronous. It orbits the Earth at a fixed point in relation to the sun. They do not have light-dark cycles at all.” She flips off the comm and shakes her head.

Mike snorts, “So they sleep with the lights on. Big deal.”

“No, they do not. It is the opposite. They are parked on the night side of the world,” she snaps, taking off her comm glasses and frowning. “They never see daylight. It worries me.”

Mike shrugs and says, “Weirdos are still better than death by decompression. But how do they survive? The power cells, the manufacturing vats, their food foliage, even oxygen tanks—all of it needs sunlight, doesn’t it?”

Asia pops an infrared scan of this weird orbital up on the vidscreen so everyone can have a good look at it. It is a squat, round spinning hunk of post-industrial metal with various globes and cubes attached to it. It doesn’t have the solar sails or large solar panel wings normally seen on orbitals. I think it looks ugly without them.

The Captain sighs, rubbing his bright blue eyes, “Out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

What can we do, but prep to dock?

The outer doors unlock and hiss open. We suck in greedy gulps of air on the docking bay platform. Customarily, there are officials at the door with a wide variety of questions to answer and tests to pass before you can enter an orbital. Here, we are alone on a platform bristling with sensors and cameras.

“It’s just how I like my colony—dank, smelly and dark,” says Alex sarcastically. At least, I hope he’s being sarcastic.

“All colonies have their own smell. The Caribbean Coffee Conglomerate smells wonderful,” Asia remarks. “I checked the air quality here before we entered. It’s fine.”

“Maybe they are all gone,” Mike chirps hopefully.

Captain looks into the unblinking red eye of a large camera and shakes his head. “More likely they are just shy,” he says firmly. “Let’s get to work.”

We move quickly, wanting to be gone as soon as possible. Captain sends the grunts we’d picked up a few weeks before, Mingo and Fishtrap, to go look for inhabitants. I never could figure out what language those two spoke so I don’t know too much about them. Captain had some idea who they were and where they came from, though. At least, I think he did.

Anyway, recompressing the ship with air goes faster if the colony allows us to use the orbital’s pumps and paying for air is smarter than just taking it. Stealing is a good way to get blown out of the sky.

“If you can’t find people, make sure you find some food and water. Our supplies are low and we’ll have a long trip back,” Captain tells the grunts. But he says it quietly, away from the cameras.

Asia and me, we already have the breach fixed and we’re looking at the damaged solar cells when the first colonist appears. He moves like a ghost, old and pale. Even his eyes seem colorless and strange, like a giant who shriveled up in the sun. The hair on my neck prickles, just looking at him.

He lisps slightly as he attempts what might be a smile, “Welcome. I am Dr. Voctoire, the lead scientist here.” Dr. Voctoire has a decidedly thick Eastern European accent and he’s well over six feet tall.

Mike is sitting next to me, pulling up schematics for the water pumps while keeping his eyes on this strange character and cussing under his breath. I lean over to Mike and whisper, “Is he being creepy on purpose or is he for real?”

“Can’t tell and don’t care,” Mike whispers back without moving his lips.

Mike was pretty decent looking, if you liked them tall and stringy and young. Personally, I prefer big and beefy men like Captain. Not that he had an extra pound of fat on him. He is just a big guy.

Captain steps over and shakes the pale man’s hand. In his booming Captain voice, he says “Sorry to barge in on you like this. We were limping along, looking to die if we hadn’t docked here. Two of my men went in search for your people to ask properly for your help. We thank you for any hospitality you care to give us.”

Dr. Voctoire smiles eerily. “Ah yes, I met your men. Please, we do not get many visitors. We would like to make a meal with you?”

We agree, because who turns down free food? Dr. Voctoire lets us use the orbital’s pumps to repressurize the ship, saying we can haggle over the price after dinner. Captain tells Mike, Asia and me to continue with the repairs. Then he leaves with Alex, slipping a remote around his wrist so I can see and hear what goes on with them inside this place.

“Dr. Voctoire, we’ve been wondering how you guys manage in the dark like this,” Captain asks with a cheerful lack of concern while his blue eyes dart around, taking it all in. The walls are covered with a slimy bioluminescent moss. If that isn’t weird enough, the old man has two separate cochlear implant comms, one for each eye and both are activated.

I am used to cochlear implants now, the shiny metal disk with its red little light screwed right into a person’s temple, but two is just beyond weird, you know? Have you ever seen that before? Because Voctoire’s colony is the only place I ever did.

Dr. Voctoire says, “The dark? We have a series of mirrors that provide us with enough sunlight for survival. We find the dark preferable for our experiments.”

Captain asks, “So you are a research station? Wonderful. Not too many of those left. What are you researching?”

I wonder if they were using fuel cells or nuclear for power, since they obviously don’t use solar. I’m really glad I stayed behind. The tinker is a hunk of junk, but it has great radiation shielding and this guy didn’t look like he cared overmuch about frying his gonads with badly shielded nukes.

The old man says dismissively, “Computers, we work with. Technology. Electronics. It is very technical, our work. I would not bore you with details.”

Captain replies, “I see you have two comms. It’s unusual. Do you run them at the same time? I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Yes, we must. There are few of us here and much work to do. All of us use dual independent processors. It is difficult, but achievable with the right, ah, modifications.”

Captain gives one of his hearty captain laughs. “If it were me, I’d be tripping all over the place. Trying to walk and talk with just one on is bad enough and here you got two.”

That’s when I realize that Dr. Voctoire’s eyes are moving independently, like a chameleon. So creepy! Through the video feed, I spy Captain shuddering so he sees it too.

Dr. Voctoire nods, taking the meaning of Captain’s stare.

“Yes, Mr. Captain. It is unusual, what we have done, but necessary for our purposes. Our modified vision requires us to keep light to a minimum, but the computers allow us to see extremely well in the dark.”

“Well, the skies are big enough for everyone and you certainly don’t have much competition for this corner of the spheres, but you did startle me there, mister.” Captain says frankly.

The old man stares at him with one eye as they walk. “Mr. Captain, you have introduced all your crew members, but not yourself. Please, what is your name?” Dr. Voctoire asks.

Captain just smiles, “Out in the dark on our tinker ship, I forget my own name more often than I care to admit.”

That’s the kind of thing Captain says if you ask about his name. We all learned pretty quick not to ask.

Back in the ship, I am freaking out again. Mingo and Fishtrap weren’t responding on their remotes, which is bad enough.

Then Asia comes over and writes on a scrap of paper, “The colonists here can see everything on their colony, but they can’t see in this ship. They can hear us. Very advanced security. Very secretive. Not much in the Ether about this place. Almost a hundred years old.”

A hundred years make it one of the oldest orbitals still in use. That would make anybody nervous, especially after getting a look at that freak-show Voctoire.

I get on the comm and start squawking to Captain to come back. Since I know the people in the orbital are listening in, I use some of the code words we worked out beforehand. Sadly, this isn’t the first bizarre situation we’ve been in.

Captain listens for a minute and then calmly says to Voctoire, “Sir, if you will excuse me, there is a minor problem with my ship that needs my attention before I join you.”

Dr. Voctoire asks that Alex continue on with him. Captain agrees because he doesn’t want to tip his hand. Alex is experienced enough to know he needs to be on alert because things are getting strange here.

We use the pencil and paper to explain things to Captain when he gets back. We make sure to speak out loud about general things like our food and air supplies.

“Gene mod?” Asia scribbles.

Genetic modification was a fairly routine thing in orbital space by that time. Colonies have very specific requirements for plants or animals and they have to balance the water, air, food, and whatnot in their biosphere or else they all die. Gene mods are usually the easiest way to do that. A good splicer can solve three life-threatening issues with one well-designed fungus. But gene mod is still never, ever used on humans.

That’s because there were some very memorable, very horrific mistakes that no one dares repeat. While the black market thrives for all things under the sun, human mod is strictly off limits.

You’ll never find a geneticist willing to risk professional suicide followed rapidly by fatal torture. That’s the standard punishment for human gene mod. But Voctoire’s orbital is obviously a very top-secret corporate research station so just about anything could be happening here.

Captain frowns and shrugs. Then he goes and rummages around in the supply room and comes back with a bottle of green liquid.

He says loudly, “Well, I see you have the repairs under control. I’ll be back in a few hours.” He takes the bottle and leaves with Mike in tow. Asia and I watch through the feed on Captain’s wrist.

On the way, they meet another colonist. She is tall, frail and ghostly like the first. She also has the two implants jacked into her skull, glowing ominously. Both of her computers are engaged and she merely motions them to follow her as she slowly makes her way. When they reach the eating area, there are about twenty people in it, including Dr. Voctoire.

All are tall, gray and withered, like all the color has just washed out of them. When they enter the room, Mike’s hand hovers over his weapon, but it drops away when he looks them over. I know what he is thinking.

How could this congregation of elderly be a threat?

Captain says in his big hearty voice, “Well now, I have here the finest old absinthe still circulating above the stratosphere that I’d like to share with you fine folk. But where are my three crewmen? Don’t tell me they are off getting into trouble?”

Dr. Voctoire smiles formally and gestures for them sit.

“Your men are assisting us with a small problem. They are so kind to do so. We will join them shortly.”

The table is heavy with bread, cheese, and some kind of thick stew. The shots I can see of it through the bracelet video make me drool. I hear Mike and Captain talking about how great everything tastes, but strangely spiced. I’m hoping they remember to bring some back.

“We had a special breed of sheep designed for us. They do not need light and live on our moss.” Dr. Voctoire says.

He seems positively chatty now.

“So, your research isn’t genetic, then?” Mike asks quickly, moping up stew with some bread.

“Oh no. We are more concerned with technical matters. Mediboxes, specifically. There are many very interesting applications of that technology. For example, there are certain surgeries that it can perform to greatly extend the human life span.”

He sounds pretty reasonable and smart, but the thing is, you have to be a special kind of crazy to modify a medibox. You guys have a medibox on this colony, right? New Siberia does too.

They are a lot better than they used to be. Even back then a medibox could do the scans and tests necessary to diagnose almost any medical problem. They could perform surgeries too. They used a series of lasers that worked pretty well, although they left interesting scars. They also prescribed medicines, but most contained only basic antibiotics and painkillers.

A rogue medibox is everyone’s secret dread. Actually, it isn’t that secret. Mediboxes are heavily featured in horror Ether flicks.

Captain expresses polite disbelief at their research success. I can see him squirming in his seat just a little before busying himself with pouring the absinthe and insisting they all try it.

Voctoire does not take a glass and will not be deterred in his enthusiasm for the insane subject.

He says proudly, “Yes, it’s true. I myself am almost one hundred sixty years old. All of us here have had the surgery. No one here is under one hundred years old. There is no telling how long we will live. What do you think of that?”

Personally, long life as a wizened gray skeleton is something I’ll pass on.

That’s when Captain notices Mike snoring into his soup. He tries to leap to his feet, but staggers and falls instead. The food was drugged, you see.

Voctoire leaned towards him and says confidentially, “Mr. Captain, we have not had a shipment of experimental subjects in far too long and we have many new ideas to test. We are so pleased to have you here.” Dr. Voctoire cackles while the Captain slides to the floor. The last thing I see through the remote is Voctoire switching it off.