The Clock Winked (The Sagittan Chronicles Book 2) (6 page)

“Not a problem, Mr. Lebron,” Chair Rizinski replied. He
glared at the rows of employees with two beady eyes and a unibrow which seemed
to have quite a stare of its own. “Nice looking crowd you’ve got here.”

“Only the best of the best, sir,” Samson replied. “Come this
way.” He led the Chair down the hallway and into the main lounge area of the
station. A stripe of curved window stretched from floor to ceiling in a long
arc, like a crack in time. The sun glowed brightly at the bottom of one side
and glittering stars peered in from the other side. Dark, suede couches
littered the room, and large rugs had been placed carefully over the floor.

“Don’t people get hurt when you lose gravity and these
couches start flying?” Chair Rizinski asked, looking around the room. He sat on
a couch, ignoring the gorgeous view through the window. Samson followed suit,
as did the three individuals accompanying the Chair.

“Everything is chained down, of course,” Samson replied
smoothly. “We use locks made by
Natham Oliphant, lock maker.
To keep vandals from untying them.”

“Vandals?
You allow scoundrel class
on this vessel?”

“Of course not!”
Samson exclaimed.
“However, occasionally visitors who wish us harm sneak through our screening
process, and every so often someone who works here takes up a vendetta against the
organization. The persons we hire are only people. We apply every system
possible to prevent such people from coming on board.”

“And how often do things like this occur?”

“Perhaps once a year, if that.
Have
a cup of coffee—Marge, please bring us a pot.”

“Yessir.”
Marge stepped out from
the lines of employees. They had followed Samson and Chair Rizinski into the
lounge and now stood at attention against the walls of the room.

“Well, to business, I suppose,” Chair Rizinski said. “Let me
introduce you to Heloise Mikkelson, my second; Arthur Robspar, my resident
expert on such matters pertaining to Meteor II, space travel, and space travel
technology; and Misty, my intern. I would like a complete tour of the facility,
Heloise would like to examine your books, and Arthur will be inspecting your
equipment and staff. You may proceed in whatever order you wish.”

“Of course.”
Samson nodded as Marge
stepped into the room with a tray. “Please have some coffee while I show
Heloise to my office. Marge will provide you with everything you might need.
Then I will show Mr. Robspar to the engine rooms where Lee,” Samson gestured
towards the line of employees, “will take you through the engines. Will this be
satisfactory?”

“Yes, thank you.” Chair Rizinski nodded.

“If you wish, you may also make use of our security guards.”

“That will not be necessary.” Chair Rizinski stood, ignoring
the coffee. “Let’s begin.”

Samson rose to his feet and clapped his hands once.
“Risa and Tibalt to the kitchens, please.
Begin preparing
this evening’s meal. Lee, you head down to the engine room with your mechanics
and double check to make sure everything is in tip-top shape, including your
hat, Reginald. Please wear a different one next time—without the grease stains.
Marge, Lisa and Penny will assist Heloise for the next several hours. Perkins
and Sarge are on guard duty. Misha and Kelvin to the monitoring room please.
And Copernicus, I believe Andre is due for a break from the pilot chamber.
The rest of you, back to your regular duties.”
He clapped
his hands again and the two neat lines broke and twisted and flayed in all
directions, spreading away from the walls and disappearing through various
doors. As the crowd dissipated, Samson turned to Chair Rizinski and smiled.

“Shall we begin?” he asked.

“Yes,” the Chair replied. “Lead the way,”

Samson strode towards a set of double doors, turning to look
at Heloise. “Marge is my aide. She, Lisa, and Penny will find whatever
materials you wish to see, and provide whatever assistance you may need. My office
is just this way.”

The hallways of Meteor II often seemed to stretch far longer
than fit the rooms that protruded from the hallway, but Samson had since
learned that this was because bits of the engine and machinery jutted up higher
than the floor and took up space that would otherwise be for rooms. One room
had a window into the engines; the view, which looked hundreds of feet
downwards into the always changing maw of the massive and dangerous machine,
was terrifying, and so the room was kept locked most of the time.

“My office is just through here,” Samson said, holding open
a door and allowing the others to step through. The automatic shutters over the
window were half closed, and the glass was set to full tint so the shining rays
of Liera didn’t blind whoever occupied the room. “My office is your office,”
Samson added, following the others into the room. “Feel free to dig through my
files, use my desk and pencils, and even drink from my personal coffee mug, if
you like.” A smile slithered across his lips. “Please don’t touch the panel of
emergency switches, though. Mr. Robspar will have a look at that later.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lebron,” Heloise said. “This will suffice.
Marge, if you will find me a pillow and a glass of scotch, and point
me towards the drawer of financial records, please?”

“This way,” Samson said, ushering the Chair, Arthur, and
Misty from the room. “Mr. Robspar, allow me to escort you to the engine rooms.”

“I can find my own way,” Arthur grunted.

“But it will be my pleasure. I insist.” Samson smiled again,
this time showing his teeth. “The engine rooms are on the first floor, and it
can sometimes be tricky to get there. The elevator can be a bit sticky so we
have to take multiple sets of stairs.”

“What do you mean, sticky?” Chair Rizinski asked, frowning.
His unibrow made a downward ‘v.’

“Oh, Lee will give you all the details, but it basically has
to do with the heat of the sun melting some poorly chosen casings which house
the computer programming consoles. We replaced the covers, but some melted
plastic has gotten into the workings of the system and causes the elevator to
stop at random times, but only when that side of the station is facing the sun.
So far we’ve been unable to obtain a grant to fix the problem, but we’ve
learned to work around it. During this part of our orbit we only use the
elevator to transport inanimate things, not employees.” Samson smoothed out his
tie as he reached out to open the door to the stairs. “You can examine it
yourself if you wish. We’ve had three elevator repairmen up to look at it, and
they all came to the same conclusion.”

“Thank you, I think I will,” Robspar replied, following the
Chair and Samson closely as they moved down the stairs. Misty trailed behind,
scribbling rapidly in her notebook.

The door at the bottom of the stairs led into a room with
high shelves. Gloves, hard hats, and tools filled every nook and cranny.

“Take a hard hat,” Samson said, gesturing towards the
shelves. “It’s loud, too, so we use these sound-canceling headsets. Just put
this part in your ear, and tape this part to your cheek—“ he demonstrated, “and
you’ll be able to speak and hear without going deaf or hoarse.”

The Chair and Robspar followed suit. Misty was still
scribbling in her notebook.

“The door is right here,” Samson said, reaching to open it.
“I’ll be in as soon as I help Misty with her headphones.”

The Chair nodded as he and Robspar disappeared into the
engine room.

“Misty,” Samson said, smiling and turning towards the young
girl.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, looking up from the deafening
fascination of her notebook. “Where are Chair Rizinski and Mr. Robspar?”

“They’re in the engine room, but you need a hard hat and
earphones before you can go in.”

“Oh, thank you!” She exclaimed. “This is quite new!”

“I need a favor,” Samson said. “Also I like your dress.”

“A favor?
Must I sign a waiver?”
she asked. “I do that a lot, especially when the Chair’s in a spot.”

“A spot of what?”

“A spot of trouble; it’s like I’m his double!” she laughed.

“Ah yes,” Samson smiled, gritting his teeth. She was a
rhymer.
Wonderful.
“Well, that would be why Chair
Rizinski told me to ask you if I had any questions. I’ve already spoken with
him, and he said that if I need anything, I should ask you so as to not bother
him.”

“Of course, of course.
Just don’t
talk me hoarse!” she smiled, holding up the headphones.

“Well, he’s promised to keep me up to date on all of his
opinions and plans, but rather than take the time to tell me himself, he told
me I should simply have you tell me everything.” Samson hoped the Chair hadn’t
said the opposite to her.

“He’s a busy man with lots of plans.” Misty nodded in
agreement as Samson taped the mic to her cheek.

“Later, when we both have a minute, we should sit down and
discuss the sorts of things I’ll need to know.”

“That I can do, since the Admin approves.” She placed the
hard hat on her head.

Samson opened the door to the engine room. A loud roar
filled his ears. A wind dragged at his shirt and hair. The engines rose through
the bottom of the station and up through the sixth floor. Permanent scaffolding
climbed up all sides of the machinery, providing access to all points of entry
into the structure, as well as
to
many other moving
parts that often malfunctioned or needed grease. Chair Rizinski and Mr. Robspar
stood on the other side of the room with Lee, gesturing animatedly towards the
engine and pointing.
“The engines power everything
that happens out here,” Samson said into his mic as he led Misty across the
cement floor. “It’s mostly solar powered. We have so much sunlight out here, we
can use it to do just about anything we need, as long as we don’t stray too far
from the sun or get stuck in the planet’s shadow for too long. In case of
emergencies we can revert to gas, but that will only help us for a short period
of time. We also have batteries for our alarm clocks.” He smiled. “We try to
keep her as clean and as cared for as possible.”

“It’s magnificent and beneficent!” Misty replied. “It takes care
of you and you take care of it, even though you keep it in this giant pit.”

Samson chuckled.

“What’s your energy use policy?” Robspar asked as Samson
drew near.

“Far side of Sagitta is no personal use except for as
defined in the ‘necessary’ list, and we cut back on all extraneous processes,
such as opening and closing the window gates, cooking, bathing, lights,
etc.
Every department has a list of rules and regulations regarding the far side of
Sagitta, to prevent us from losing power for even a short time. Emergency
systems are powered by gasoline.”

“Ugh.” Robspar frowned.
“Nasty stuff.
Crude.”

“Yes,” Samson replied. “And we need massive amounts of it to
power anything here.
Which is why we have scientists working
on other methods of energy generation and why we have such stringent rules when
the station is not directly facing the sun.
We haven’t lost power in
nearly three years, you know. I think my system is working nicely.” He smiled.

“I’ve seen enough here,” Chair Rizinski said, turning on his
heel, with his back to the massive machinery rising from the floor. “I wish to
see the living quarters, kitchens, classrooms, and offices briefly, and I would
like to take a more extensive look at the pilot chambers.”

“Of course.
Follow me.” Samson led
them out of the engine rooms and back up the stairs.

*****

Bronwyn liked to walk by the river. The main reason for this
was because she could always see Auntie’s butler behind her, following, and it
amused her to watch his figure dart from tree to tree as if he were trying to
prevent her from discovering his presence. Except that he always followed her,
everywhere she went, and she always knew it. Except when he thought he was
following her, but wasn’t.

It was rather creepy, really.

The boathouse sat close to the water. She slipped down
behind the wall where Lindsey waited.

“You’re the best,” Bronwyn whispered, shrugging off her
jacket and handing it to Lindsey.

“No problem,” Lindsey replied
,
reaching out to take the money Bronwyn held in her other hand.

Lindsey slipped the jacket over her shoulders and walked
casually down the dock. Bronwyn sneaked into the boathouse and peered through a
window as Butler darted up to the side of the building. He peered around the
edge to where the fake Bronwyn stood, gazing out at the water.

Butler was used to this routine. He sat down in the grass
and waited.

Bronwyn counted to ten and then slipped out the door and
sprinted into the trees. He never knew that the figure on the dock wasn’t her;
he had never figured it out, and hopefully, never would.

A few minutes later she ducked into Hal’s Chou Mein Coffee.
Sauvignon Pincer was sitting in a chair by the window.

“I ordered you coffee,” he said.

“Oh thanks,” she replied. “Do you mind if we don’t sit by
the window?” A small smile played around her lips and her flushed cheeks
brought out the large brown eyes that looked pleadingly towards him.

“Hiding?” he joked, standing. He gestured towards the back
of the coffee shop.

“Yes. So, this article you’re writing—I’m anonymous for the
time being.”

He made a face. “I wanted it to be about your family!” he
protested.

“I’m not saying you can’t do that, but you need to either
find the information I give you someplace else and cite it, or save the article
until later.”

“Fine,” Salve agreed, following Bronwyn to a booth in the
back of the shop, near a large lamp that pointed away from the table. A moose
head decorated the wall and a mug of poisonous bayweed had been placed in the
center of the table.