Once I got out of the steam rooms β the dark, red corridors and the humid heat nothing that I was about to miss - I found that Engineering was constructed remarkably similarly to Cryonics. I was aware of curving corridors to either side of the main corridor that led into the center. That meant, if my mental map of the station was right, it was another ring based around a central + shaped crossing. But unlike Cryonics, Engineering was
big
. The main corridor I was on was easily twice as wide as the main corridor in Cryonics, and it led into other rooms, each one labeled with stenciled lettering. It seemed I was going through part storage right now.
"So, Lucas," I whispered. "Can you hear me?" I asked, after he didn't respond. "Lucas?"
"Sorry," he said. "Trying to crack into the data files on the corps- er, uh, the cryo-stored persons." He chuckled nervously. I pursed my lips.
"Any luck?"
"Well, CyroCrypt 0451
was
listed for one Beatrice Montenegro," Lucas said. "A trillionaire heiress waiting for her shot at the family fortune. The listing here says you were to be on ice until your older brother kakked it. If you are Beatrice."
I frowned.
It seemed like a somewhat trivial reason to put oneself into cryogenic storage and slumber away the decades. Letting the world tick by underneath you, allowing everyone you knew to get older and older. I tried to remember the kind of life someone named Beatrice Montenegro would live. I tried to picture it β and faint images seemed to haze around my mind. A sunny beach. A large, beautiful ship that cut through the waves of an emerald-blue ocean like a knife. A beautiful woman walking towards me, wearing a string bikini and suntan lotion. Her breasts bounced and swayed and I found my mouth growing moist at the thought. But the image blurred before she undid the top and lowered herself on me.
But...
I couldn't think of a name. Hell, I couldn't even think of a
planet
. Was that Earth?
"How many planets do people live on?" I asked, quietly.
"Excuse me, lassie?" Lucas asked.
I paused at another junction β making a note. So, another difference between Engineering and Cryonics: There were
two
"rings" that circled between the main corridors. I looked down the left corridor and saw the doors were more widely spaced, and they weren't just slapped up with the same storage room labels as I had seen elsewhere. I frowned. This was actually where people got work done, if the first label I saw was true:
WepTec Lab 39.
"I don't remember anything," I said, shaking my head. "But, no. I remember fragments. Pieces. How many planets do people live on? Am I remember Earth or...or..." A name floated to my mind. "Mars?"
"Three," Lucas said. "Four, if ya count Luna, and the Loonies sure want us too."
I nodded. "Mars. Earth. Luna. Venus."
"Dusties, Shorties, Loonies and Gas Bags," Lucas said, dryly.
I snorted, quietly. "So, Mars doesn't have beaches?"
Lucas' snort spoke volumes. So that memory had to be on Earth. Or a remarkably large resort on Luna β but this was all pointless. Virgil Station was the only place I
should
be worrying about, and the only thing I
should
be thinking about in Virgil Station was the damn station-keeping jets. But my mind kept skittering back to the image of that boat, to the idea of Beatrice Montenegro. Was that me? What was a trillion dollars even
worth
now a days? My finger went to the collar of my throat and...
"Wait," I whispered. Thinking of money made me think of
things
. Thinking of things made me want to compulsively check my gear. I pulled my shotgun out of my backpack, cocked back the pump. Still a red glow. I pulled my pistol and checked the ammo. Still seven bullets. My brow furrowed.
"Lucas," I said. "How many times did I shoot that Tesc in the steam rooms?"
"
Pretty..."
The voice echoed from the corridor behind me.
"Not enough," Lucas hissed. "We have an hour to get that station-keeping jet on. Get your bloody arse moving."
I nodded. "Which store room was it again?" I asked.
"08."
I started to jog down the corridor.
###
Storeroom 08 β placed neatly between two MatTec Labs (whatever that meant, I had no idea) - didn't open. I tried the keypad, but my fingers couldn't get to pry it open. I pulled out my wrench - but hesitated.
"Lucas," I said. "If I smash the keypad open, then we get more of those fucking drones, don't we?"
"Yup," he said. "Listen, I'm checking who had authorization to that door. Dr. Thanton does - and he worked in MatTec. Not in these labs, but in lab 98. That's on the other side of the ring from where you're standing."
I did some quick mental math. The clock was still ticking. But dying would mean I'd never get the fucking station-keeping jets online again. And so, I stepped back from the keypad and started jogging again. My nano-clad feet padded softly on the floor and I started to breathe lightly - not needing to gasp or pant. It seemed that Beatrice was in good shape, at least. I smirked at that thought. Running past lab after lab, I counted the numbers as I rushed by, ticking up until I reached the 90s. Then I slowed, my feet thumping on the ground as I stepped slower and slower, finally coming to MatTec 98. The door was shut, but when I tried it, it hissed open with a loud
clunk
. I leaned around the corner and peeked within.
The inside of MatTech 98 looked as if the people within had simply left during a busy work day. There were several machines clearly designed to hold and test chunks of metal - I could tell, because several chunks of metal were suspended in metallic claws that themselves were surrounded by pale blue panes of glass that looked designed to contain and withstand a lot of energy. The chunks of metal all looked similar - gray and flat. But as I walked into the room and my view shifted, strange, rainbow like patterns started to appear and vanish as my perspective slipped around. I bobbed my head left and right, then up and down. The patterns never repeated - the melange of red, blue, purple, yellow and other hues was endlessly different. It was nearly hypnotic.
I tore my eyes from the metal panes and looked at the rest of the lab. There were several desks that were studded with control consoles. There were lots of toggles and touch pads, a curious combination of what felt like cutting edge and ancient technology. I noticed that the toggles were all labeled not by stenciled lettering but rather by pieces of white tape that had been scribbled on by someone's black pen.
R. Modulator 98.
L. Field.
Induction.