Chapter 5
"Next."
"Oh, shit." Blade hisses.
"What?" Fred whispers up from behind.
"Mommy, that’s the lady we saw…"
"Shhh… I know. Now, be quiet."
"Next!" The large older woman with
short dark hair and wearing a navy-blue TransOrbital jumper shouts again,
this time with a bit more anger. The woman glances up at them from behind
a long low brushed blue cerametal counter that’s apparently too small to
contain its volume of work. Her desk lay cluttered to distraction with
every manner of display, fax, file, and folder. Several racks of secured
datapoints stand mounted into the cubical wall beside her desk.
"We would like to request a
reassignment into Family Quarters." Blade offers her handtablet across
the counter. The woman impatiently snatches it away, tossing the thin rounded
rectangle of dark plastic into one of the empty datapoints beside her,
then turns to look down at her main display with what seems like a permanent
scowl.
"Ah, yes." The woman’s eyes
run down her display, somewhat sadistically Fred notices. "Our little rule
stretchers."
Blade clears her throat.
Fred suddenly feels certain Blade’s
plan is dead. This woman obviously has it in for her. As for why, he can
only guess.
"Okay, let’s hear it." The woman says.
"The archive publics are on, and you seem to have a legitimately submitted
request, so let’s get to it. Let’s see…" The woman glances down at her
display. "You both accidentally happen to meet up with a forgotten second
cousin on your way out to Mars, and so now all of a sudden you want to
start stretching a few more rules so you can stretch yourself into some
better quarters. That is..." The woman glances down her nose at her main
display. "If I’m reading this ball of data fuzz correctly. I am, aren’t
I?"
"Well," Blade begins to answer. Roselene’s
chubby little fingers grab onto the counter's edge, her tip-toed nose just
barely visible above the desk.
"We like my cousin Fred and we want
him to go out to…"
"Shush, Sweety.".
"Ah," The lady smiles. "And, if it
isn’t our little Daleian?" For a moment Roselene stares back defiantly,
then lets go of the counter and leans back to seek protection against Blade’s
hip.
"Listen," Blade tries to calm herself.
"I know this must look bad to you, especially after our little misunderstanding
yesterday, but we’re not really trying to stretch the rules here, we’re…"
The lady levels a hard look at Blade. "Well, okay. Maybe just a bit. But,
it’s not like we’re bucking for better quarters so we can kick-back and
party. It’s all legit. We are all genetically related. We’re family. There’s
a child. And, we’re all going out to Mars on the same ship."
"Yes, and why's that?"
"Why's what? Why am I immigrating
out?" Blade looks down at the woman confused.
"Yes." She stares up at her squarely.
"Why are you immigrating out?"
"Because, I want my daughter
to grow up someplace new. Someplace better. Someplace where she’ll be in
on the start of things, instead of just another worker drone in this hive."
Blade holds the woman’s stare for a moment then glances away. "This is
going to be a long trip out, and I want my daughter in the most appropriate
environment that I can arrange, which a .3g double is not."
"You should have thought of that before
you signed on with those fly-by-nights at Atlantis. All those Pacific aquaculture
plantations went bust, you know. Left them to fend for themselves. What
makes you think they’ll do any better by you?"
"We won’t starve." Blade squints back
in defiance.
"I’ll bet you won’t." The lady mumbles
down at her display. "You gonna sell the kid too?"
"Excuse me?" Fred starts at her, a
cold hard shot of adrenaline clinching both stomach and fists into tight
balls.
"Shutup, Fred." Blade mumbles calmly,
tugging him down by his jumper leg. The lady looks between the two adults
and the silently observing Roselene, then smiles.
"Good. At least you’ve got him under
control, and he seems to respect both you and the child. You sure you trust
this one for a whole year with the girl?" The woman nods toward Roselene.
Blade thinks about this before answering;
at first just for effect, but then in earnest deliberation, leaving Fred
to feel increasingly uncomfortable.
"Yes." Blade nods. "As I remember
it, Fredy was the only older kid who use to stay behind to make sure all
us younger kids were okay. Like he was our big brother or something. And,
later when all our other male cousins turned pervy, I think Fred was the
only one we girls could still trust. He even shows some manners every once
in a while." The woman behind the counter smiles back at Blade.
Fred feels caught between complement
and insult. Little more than a choice cut of rump-roast being haggled over
by housewife and clerk. His forehead bunched into a troubled knot, Fred’s
eyes dart back and forth as the two women use him as verbal shuttlecock.
"I’d seen you before yesterday, you
know." The woman smiles down at her display, the multicolored stylus molded
onto the nail of her index finger zipping across the handtablet in her
lap as she taps out an async rhythm. "Knew you were trouble even before
I laid eyes on you. Your father is Pasquel Emanuel DeSilva, right? Born
2028, Ribeirao Preto, Brazil?" Blade stares back confused, which makes
the TransOrbital woman seem delighted. "Your aunt June's maiden name is
McQuarter, right? Married Manuel DeSilva, Pasquel’s brother?"
Blade nods slowly as the woman continues.
"Your aunt and I grew up together
over in Fresno. Went from third grade all the way through high school with
her. I’ve even seen the archive of Barbara's reception. June posted an
edited version out to about half the system."
"That I can believe." Fred mumbles.
"What?" The woman looks up cross at
Fred. "You don’t like your aunt June?"
Blade makes a quick mental note to
kill Fred and dispose of the corpse the instant they leave the room.
"No!" Fred blurts. "I… That is, she…
she’s just…"
"A total blabber-mouth bitch!" The
woman finishes. "And, a stellar pain in the ass! That woman posted me and
posted me. Bitched and moaned. Always wanting a return post every week!"
The woman grins.
"The whining bitch kept me just connected
enough to this place to keep me from killing myself." She looks down at
her watch. "Which I still may do after lunch if things keep on like this."
"You knew my dad?" Blade instantly
regrets her curiosity.
"Piece-of-shit asshole. Dark eyes,
ceramic smile. He was in college back when we were all in high school.
Used to troll the raves for blonde teeny-boppers. I see he found one."
"I see." Blade reaches out for her
tablet. "Well, at least it was worth a try."
"Hold up, Missy. What’s your hurry?"
The woman asks.
"I just thought…"
"Excuse me," Fred’s male voice interjects.
Both women turn to look at him as if noticing him for the first time. "What’s
your name?"
"Petinsky." The lady squints up at
him while pointing down at the small gold name-plate on her desk. "Betty
Petinsky. Why?"
"Just hate getting the dusted off
by nameless bureaucrats, that’s all." Fred’s anger apparent.
"Me too." The woman grins back. "And,
what makes you think you’re getting dusted off? You’re still here aren’t
you?"
"Well, yes, but…"
"Shutup, Fred." Blade glances over
her shoulder. Betty Petinsky’s smile widens as she pushes back her chair.
"Okay, here’s the deal. Your devious
little assumption was correct," The woman’s fingernail stylus flashes another
zig-zag across her handtablet, tapping as it goes. "TransOrbital is overbooked
in all singles, doubles, and crew. And, we’re at least fifteen percent
short down in Family Quarters. And, as there have been certain unsubstantiated
negative reports concerning the temporary quartering of singles and childless
couples in the Family sections, TransOrbital currently feels a bit reluctant
to violate its own quartering regs. So…" Administrator Betty Petinsky reaches
back and snaps Blade’s tablet out of the datapoint. "It is currently more
convenient for TransOrbital to house your... group in Family Quarters than
in your original accommodations. As a matter of fact, this office is currently
conducting our own extendedfamily tree search for eligible passenger groups."
She shoves Blade’s handtablet out onto the counter.
"It’s the shittest family suite
we’ve got. Two double bunk closets and a pitiful little living area. A
toilet, a sink, and a one cubic meter of coldbox. You shower at Community
Facilities. The table barely seats four, and the couch is small, ugly and
hard. Any questions?" Fred draws in a breath to reply, but Blade cuts him
off with a short sharp elbow to his ribs. Ms Petinsky smiles. "Good."
"Let’s go." Blade whispers to Fred
after taking her handtablet and turning to leave.
"Next!" Nameless bureaucrats Betty
Petinsky shouts.
"Go!" Hissing between clinched teeth
Blade hurries both Fred and Roselene away from the counter.
"Hey! Did she just do us a favor,
or not?" Fred whispers confused.
"Shut up and walk." Blade shoves him
toward the entrance.
Chapter 6
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