Cloverleaf Station: Chapter Three, Part One

 Notes: Incoming MC alert! Incoming MC alert! Prepare for sparks flying!

Title: Cloverleaf Station: Chapter Three, Part One

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Chapter Three, Part One

 

While they were in the hot zone, Cloverleaf Station’s useable space was cut down to less than a quarter of what it was when open to visitors. Mostly, it was in an effort to conserve fuel stores—five months was a long time to wait for a resupply in anything, and if the station ran out of fuel then running out of other tenuous supplies wouldn’t matter so much, because they’d either spoil or freeze solid depending on what fell apart next.

Kieron closed off every hangar bay except the one he settled his own ship into, Bay Five. He closed all the living areas beyond his own, as well as all the spots designed for group socialization. He left the path to the kitchens open, as well as the corridor between the command center and his private rooms. He left one bed in the clinic functioning, and gave himself access to a single multi-function machine in the gym as well. Everything else, though, was disconnected from the station’s power grid, by hand in some cases. The more of Cloverleaf’s interior that went dark, the more settled Kieron felt.

Sitting in the command center now, Kieron looked at the data pouring in from all the most recent trips by miners using Cloverleaf Station as their port. They matched up perfectly to last year’s data, and the year before that. Consistency in stellar cartography was usually to be expected, but this close to a quasar, funny things could happen.

He had a good feeling about his search algorithms this year, though. He was sure to get it this time, sure to pinpoint where the Dark Cluster had drifted off to. It had only been two and a half years—odds were good it was still out there, waiting for him to find it. When he found it, he would find Zakari. Once he did that…

Kieron shut his eyes, replaying the last communication he’d gotten from Xilinn, the only one of Zakari’s spouses who was still talking to him. It had been a video message, of her with their son Pol on her lap—one of Zakari’s two biological children, not that biological parentage mattered much in Traktan culture. Xilinn had been smiling, her eyes bright, reflecting the rainbow of colors in the garden all around her. Pol had been playing with a small toy hovercraft, pushing it back and forth through the air between his hands.

“Hello Uncle Kieron!” she had said, giving him a little wave. “Pol and I just wanted to say happy birthday to you. We hope you had fun out there, maybe did some bowling? I think I remember Zak saying something about installing a bowling alley in Cloverleaf. Anyway, we miss you and would love to hear from you.”

Pol had looked up then, his expression petulant, cheeks so round that they practically fell onto his shoulders. He was the image of his father, with that full-moon face. “When are you going to come back?” he whined. “You and Daddy said you would be back ages ago! I want to show you my fleet! I have the whole set of Federation ship types now.”

“Yes, we’re very proud of our little fleet,” Xilinn had interjected in a very “I’m humoring you” tone of voice. “Why don’t you go get the biggest one to show him?”

Pol had clambered down from her lap and run off, and Xilinn took the moment to address Kieron in a more direct manner. “I appreciate every effort you’re making on Zakari’s behalf,” she began, her hands folded across the azure cloth covering her lap, “but it’s been so long since we’ve seen you. If you were going to find him, wouldn’t it have happened by now? If he is lost…” She bit her lower lip for a moment, looking down, before clearing her through and stiffening her spine. “If he’s lost forever, then we should say the proper prayers for him, and cleanse the family mausoleum of his resting space.”

Meaning that he wouldn’t have a resting space in his family mausoleum; meaning that his name would be stricken from the family charter, and his children would have no connection to him. It would be like he’d never existed.

Kieron wasn’t a fan of Traktan orthodoxy, particularly in a day and age when regular space travel made their worst fear, dying and leaving no body behind, an unfortunate but not a rare occurrence. But the clergy of Trakta was, well, intractable, and they weren’t changing their practices for anything. If Zakari’s body was never brought home, then he was…nothing. He was no better than a ghost, a man disallowed from even the memories of his family. He deserved better than that.

“Pol and Szusza miss you very much,” Xilinn went on. “They’d love to see you again, and so would I. The others are less…invested, but they’d come around if you were here in person. I know they would. You stayed with us for so long, Kieron; you’re like a part of the family. Please, stop sending us money and come to visit us instead. Seeing you in person will go a lot farther than your credits ever could.” She glanced off camera and her smile stretched as she saw her son. “You brought all of them! How do you have that much room in your little arms?” She made space on the bench for her son, who was staggering under the weight of his fleet of toys. The rest of the video was spent naming them all for Kieron, and finally signing off with a wave from Pol and a traditional Traktan bow from Xilinn.

As much as Kieron loved Zakari’s family, it pained him to talk to them. He almost never did it in person anymore, preferring to send written messages. And most of his salary, but that was the least he could do after being the reason that one of their providers wasn’t around anymore. He had enough left over for the basics, and fuel. He was fine.

What wasn’t fine was the thought of Zakari being erased like he’d never existed. He’d known the risks, but Kieron had heard his friend startle awake at night too many times, suffering from nightmares of being lost to space. It had scared him so badly, almost badly enough to cancel their research trip. Kieron was the one who’d convinced him to come here, told him that everything would be all right, that he’d make sure of it.

What a liar he’d turned into.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and stared at his algorithm again, set it to mirror last year’s path. He watched the line extend, following his previous route—the last known route that Zakari had taken before he went radio silent.

Dead. Just say dead. Nobody could survive out there for so long, even disregarding the radiation, which you know killed him in under five minutes. He’s dead.

Whatever. The point was, Kieron was closer than ever to having the location of their ship, the Dark Cluster, pinned down. If he could reach it, staying safely in the shadows as long as possible, and if he could bring it back to Cloverleaf Station, then…

In life, Kieron had pushed Zakari past his comfort zone. In death, all he wanted was to take the man back to his family’s mausoleum, where he would be remembered with the bodies of the other honored dead for centuries to come. It was all Kieron wanted anymore, his sole goal in life.

Not much left in there for you personally, buddy.

And that, Kieron insisted to the voice that sounded like his dead best friend, was how he preferred it.

I worry about you.

There was nothing to worry about. Kieron was fine, totally healthy in every way. The Station was performing its radiation-clocking functions at full capacity, he had supplies to last him well beyond five months in case the unexpected happened, and now that he was finally alone, he could—

“Cloverleaf Station, come in!”

What…the…hell?

“Cloverleaf Station, come in! Fuck’s sake, I’ve been firing messages off into the dark for half a fucking hour, what, are you jerking it over there? Cloverleaf Station, come the fuck—”

“Who is this?” Kieron asked as he activated the com. He’d shut down the long-range scanners because they didn’t work well in the hot zone, and besides, what was the point? Nobody else would be foolish enough to come out here right now…right?

“Finally! I thought I’d have to physically knock on your damn door before you decided to open up for me.”

“Who is this?” Kieron repeated, letting his annoyance show through. “Not that it really matters, because the station is closed for the season, and if you know what’s good for you you’ll head in the opposite direction at top speed before you get yourself killed.”

“Oooh, you’re sparky, I like that,” the voice said with a laugh. “But that’s not what’s happening here, friend. I’m coming in fast, you’re going to open a bay door for me, I’m going to park, and then we’re going to get to work.”

Whoever it was, he was a madman. “I have no orders to allow anyone in here, and I’m not—”

“Check your com log again, Sparky, because as of three weeks ago, I purchased the contract to oversee this station from the Federation. That means all operational decisions go through me, including who gets in and when.”

What the…who the… “Who are you?” Kieron managed, his voice firm even though his mind was tumbling so hard in his head that he felt dizzy.

“Oh, sorry, forgot that part. I’m Elanus Desfontaines, CEO of Lifeship Enterprises, and your new boss. Now open a fucking door for me so I can come in and introduce myself properly.”

What.

The.

Hell.