My stomach gurgled, reminding me of how long it had been since lunch.The pay for this job should have hit my account as soon as the inspector approved the repairs, so tonight I was treating myself to my favorite noodle shop.Tomorrow, I was going to sleep in and enjoy my day off.
Picking up my pace, I caught up to a group of spacers and slipped into the airlock with them.I pressed into a corner, holding my tool bag in front of me to protect my personal space.Maybe I should have waited for them to clear the airlock, but I was starving.
Tucked into my corner of the airlock while the pressure stabilized, I studied the other occupants.From the way they argued over whether to visit a bar or a brothel first, I figured they were fresh off one of the many ships.
One of the men noticed me.“You’re not part of our crew,” he said.His gaze ran up and down the length of me.
Ew.
I didn’t let my disgust show, just responded calmly.“Nope, Elegium Station crew.”
Now all six of them looked at me, taking in my dirty coveralls and battered tool bag.
I wasn’t concerned about my safety.The penalties for harassing station personnel were pretty steep.And really, did you want to piss off the person repairing your spaceship?
“Start at Meecham’s,” I said.“Their drinks are the cheapest and the least watered down.”I’d tried every bar and restaurant on station in the two years I’d lived here, some more than once.Brothels, on the other hand...I could make recommendations, but they were based on secondhand knowledge, rather than personal experience.As my father said, you never knew what information might save your life.
“Wanna join us?”the one who’d initially noticed me asked.
“No, but thanks.Got the early shift tomorrow.”
The airlocked dinged, the transfer between the outer dock and the inner station complete.With a chin lift and “You know where to find us,” the spacers piled out.
I followed slowly, pulling my communicator out of my pocket.Ordering dinner from my favorite noodle joint took seconds.The restaurant was preprogrammed and my order was always the same: spicy garlic noodles.
That taken care of, I shoved my comms into my pocket and headed into the main part of the station.The commercial zone hummed with activity as people ducked in and out of the shops, restaurants, and bars that lined the corridors.Conversations filled the air, many in English, but I caught a smattering of other languages.
Officially, Elegium Station was home to nearly 800 people, most of whom worked to keep either the station, the stores, or the ships running.The population easily doubled—or more—when the docks were full.The station provided food, fuel, and repairs to the crew and tourists who stopped here.
As I wove through the crowds, it was easy to tell who lived here and who didn’t.Spacers lingered outside the bars and strip clubs.Tourists gaped at the many shops and food stands that sold goods from across the galaxy.No one ever expected a station this size to have such diverse food offerings.I rolled my eyes.Everyone came from somewhere.Why would Elegium be any different?
Dodging the visitors who frequently stopped in the middle of the corridor, I bypassed the more expensive touristy places and ducked into my favorite restaurant.It was a little hole in the wall, the kind of place most visitors were too afraid to try because of concerns about cleanliness or whatever other issues they extrapolated from the half-broken neon sign and peeling paint.
But to me, the rich scents of spices, grease, and a hundred other flavors that had seeped into the walls over the years represented comfort.
“Hey, Lacy.”The owner pushed a warming bag toward me.“Good day?”
“Long day,” I replied as I swiped my credit chip over the reader.“This is a lifesaver.”I picked my order up and carefully tucked the meal into my tool bag.
“Thank you,” I called and slipped back into the crowded corridor.
3
Lacy
Even though Idid this every day, my shoulder ached from the weight of my tool bag and my breathing was uneven by the time I reached the fourth floor.My tiny one-bedroom apartment was smaller than the restaurant, but the price was right.It was a short walk from the docks and reasonably safe.The biggest complaint I had was the permanently broken elevator.
I swiped my key across the keypad and stepped inside as soon as the automated lights flickered on.Out of habit, I locked the door and set my tool bag on the card table in the small kitchen.
The delicious smells wafting from my bag only made my stomach grumble louder.I wasstarving!Washing the grease and grime of the day off my hands, I grabbed a bottle of water from the small refrigeration unit.I plopped into the lone chair at the table, datapad at my elbow.A hot meal and an episode of my favorite show—maybe even two!—since I didn’t have to work tomorrow.
“God, I’m boring,” I muttered.I wasn’t living the adventurous life I’d imagined when I’d taken off on my own.I worked too much and had barely made acquaintances, much less friends here.Even my sister, who spent all her free time in dusty libraries and museums, had a more exciting life.
I could always go back.
As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I snorted and shook my head.This may not be the perfect life, but neither was that.
“You got what you wanted, Lacy.You’re fixing ships, not stealing them.”
