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and damn, I earned it.

CHAPTER 3

    Station Ceileidh looked nothing like I remembered. Things change constantly, but this wasn’t even home. There were UN troops watching the dock as we unloaded. We were required to wear ship badges while doing so. I got checked out twice to make sure it was real.
    Luckily, they don’t know accents from spit because I don’t sound Caledonian.
    Then I was free to move about the station. Sort of.
    As I headed out of the dock, there was a checkpoint, and it was backed up.
    “What’s the thing?” I asked the guy ahead of me.
    A guy ahead of him said, “Mandatory ID chip. Necklace for now, but they’re talking implants later, like on Earth.”
    I wondered why anyone was putting up with that. Then I realized most of them either weren’t local, or didn’t spend a lot of time slumming. There are several discreet ways out of the dock.
    “Oh, damn, I forgot . . .” I muttered, and headed back toward the ship. A couple of people watched me for a moment, probably for my ass, since I was female, but no one followed me.
    Then I went past the lock, past the dock, down into the maintenance area. It has the controls, seals and power for the locks. There weren’t any troops here. A couple of maintenance people did look at me funny.
    “Which way to Seventeen?” I asked, and pointed both ways.
    “That way,” one said. “Five slots. Watch for the pressure bulkhead, it’s just beyond that.”
    “Ah, great, thanks.”
    I knew where 17 was and actually planned to stop at 15.
    Number 15 had a tunnel that dropped down and ran parallel to that pressure bulkhead. It carried main power from the plant. I may have gotten laid there once. I also may have helped a friend who was lit up, come down there.
    I had to duck and hold my backpack in front after I loosened the straps, and sling my rolly bag low behind me. The passage went in-station, and would come out in the plant proper, but there was a hatch before that.
    That hatch was alarmed. I didn’t want to open it. So I had to decide if I could find another, or risk the powerplant, which was probably guarded. Unless they were trusting local guards. Power out in a station was a catastrophe that could kill everyone.
    I found another hatch that went somewhere else and was bolted. I dug into my tool pouch and managed to get a multispanner to fit it. I leaned and strained and it moved a fraction, then stopped. I forced it back up, then leaned in again, and got it to move.
    It opened easily once I unbolted it. As long as it didn’t go back to the dock. This had to be on some blueprint, but did anyone know it was big enough to get through?
    It almost wasn’t. I shoved my luggage through and followed it, twisting my shoulders and ass as I went. I had some dust and stains now, and could probably pass as maintenance if I needed to.
    I was annoyed, and a bit hungry. I’d been waiting to get dinner, because the best fishballs and noodles in space were in a little hole in the wall just past the ID check. I’m told you can get better in the Southeast Asian Federation, but I’d never get there. I had energy bars in my pack if I needed them, but I could last a few hours.
    That passage came to a dead end at another hatch. It was set to hold pressure on the other side, so I was safe—it wouldn’t open if there was an imbalance. I tried to calculate angle and distance, and estimate gee. I shouldn’t be anywhere near the docks, but I wasn’t sure where I was. The hatch wasn’t coded, but was secured. I took a listen and heard generic mechanical noise, and decided to risk it.
    I undogged the catch, leaned onto it, opened it and stepped out.
    It was a secondary environmental control. There were two guys moving around machines at one end, that looked like supersize versions of shipboard air plants.
    There was nothing to do but close the hatch, grab my gear, and start walking, carrying them like tools. The two of them heard me, glanced over, and one of them made a