Sector twelve looked even dirtier and more unkempt than the eleven sectors that preceded it. The further down one descended into the so-called open sectors on the station, the further away from normal life things devolved. Maintenance did not exist out here. Except for the bare minimum of keeping life support running, the station’s administration preferred to ignore its lower sectors. Like the other sectors, twelve started out as a massive empty metal plate with four rows of large metal support columns stretching across its two kilometer length. But as the rich and privileged occupied the higher and more conveniently located levels, the less wealthy and less privileged were forced downwards. Having less income meant worse construction quality of the houses and shops but also meant there was simply nothing left to keep them in a proper condition either. What had years earlier started with good intentions as orderly lined up structures and streets had over the years transformed into a maze of scrap heaps and deteriorating metal cottages. Sectors twelve through sixteen, the last four on the station were known as its slums. No one lived there because they wanted to and no one came there unless they absolutely had to.
Ray Chelsea had ventured down here out of necessity after failing to find a suitable ship elsewhere. His face looked grim as he read from the small display attached to the wall in front of him. It showed him a selection of what he considered overpriced and poor quality spaceships. Even for a budget black market dealership the results were much worse than his expectations. The catalog software used by this vendor also seemed to only loosely care about the mandatory parameters he had specified with his search. In the corner of his eye he could see the man trying to sell him a ship watching from a distance. His body nervously tilted from left to right, as if it was having problems balancing itself on the flat metal floor.
As an unlicensed spaceship merchant Norman Baltahzar had an unusual occupation for a space station slum resident. He had managed to turn his reputation of being the station’s worst vendor into the idea that he was instead the most budget friendly one. The truth was that his inventory looked very much like the surroundings he operated in. Featuring mostly old and worn down vehicles but surprising to his customers, most of them still passed the official safety regulations.
To him the customer who was currently browsing through his ships on a wall-mounted display at his shop felt out of place. Medium height but muscular, clearly in good shape with short blonde hair and face with a short shaven beard that looked well kept. Dark grey light hiking boots that looked like they were made of fake leather and were in a much better state than any of the footwear Norman’s usual clientele wore. The brown pants and dark grey coat looked much more worn but Norman guessed that at one point these too must have looked like good quality clothing.
“Not what you are looking for?” Norman inquired carefully while approaching and attempting to straighten his posture.
“No, I’m afraid not…” Ray replied with a hint of annoyance in his voice.
The vendor carefully walked next to him and inspected the display and the search option Ray had put in. He put his hands on the display as intending to type something, but his fingers didn’t move. For a moment it seemed as if he was thinking of what to do next. He then let go of the display and turned around to face Ray.
“I noticed you did not set a filter on control schemes. Are you perhaps familiar with FPA-2?” he asked.
Ray raised his eyebrows in surprise; he was in fact familiar with the now somewhat rare controls known as FPA-2 standard. A control scheme encompassed far more than just button layouts and organization of the navigation settings; it was in essence the operating system for a spaceship. During the early ages of space travel each manufacturer developed its own system. Over time multiple companies started to work together or even merged entirely until one single system remained which was then renamed to Earth Standard Ship Operating System referred to as ESSOS. Over time it went through many revisions and updates. When the major conflict in the post-space-colonization era took place and humanity split apart in the two major powers now known as Earth Sphere and the Free Planet Alliance this also led to a split in many different technologies. Eventually the ESSOS system was simply renamed to ES for Earth Sphere and the Free Planet Alliance followed suit with renaming their version of the system to simply FPA-1 at the time. For a long time the FPA system was based on technology dating from before the split. It wasn’t until FPA-3 that the systems really started showing major differences. Due to the still ongoing war the FPA-2 control scheme quickly fell out of favor, not because it was technically a bad system, but because it was too similar to the one used by Earth Sphere. The people in the far distances of space wanted to do everything they could to further separate themselves from their origin back on earth. Oftentimes this meant making changes just for the sake of making changes.
Ray was used to piloting just about every control scheme and wasn’t the type to be emotionally affected when making a technical decision. So he answered in honesty, “It’s not my preference but yes, I could pilot FPA-2.”
Norman seemed to relax a little bit hearing that. “Have you been to Sebrock yet?”
Ray had been expecting the man to bring up some ship that had not been on the list. But black marketers referring customers to each other was practically unheard of. Much like their legal counterparts they were as capitalist as could be and wouldn’t bat an eye to sabotage their opposition. James Sebrock was one of the biggest and best known ship vendors on the station, having a shop all the way up in sector two. Unfortunately for Ray, who was on a budget, Sebrock was mainly famous for selling the best and thus most expensive ships. According to the information he had gathered the man was also quite difficult to haggle with. Still, none of this was told to him in a negative way. Sebrock enjoyed an excellent reputation and was considered perfectly reliable, some say even more so than official vendors.
“I have not; I’m also on a bit of a budget.” Ray replied thinking that this should have been obvious with him coming down all the way to sector twelve.
Norman walked closer to him and hunched over a little while stretching his right arm behind Ray’s back, as if he was going to tell him some sort of secret while being afraid someone would overhear their conversation.
“Listen.” he spoke, starting a little quieter than before. “Sebrock has a very special ship in his stock right now. It’s rather exotic, has FPA-2 controls and meets all the criteria you searched for. I do not know what your budget is, but since you are here with me, I don’t imagine it is very much. However, it may be your lucky day! You see, Sebrock has made a bet he could sell the ship within a month. And you know when that month ends? Tomorrow!”
Ray carefully listened to the short explanation, from the sound of it he did conclude that visiting Sebrock for this ship would be a good idea.
The vendor continued, “However when you go to him, do not tell him you’ve heard of this ship from me or from anyone. He will try to rip you off, as he always does. Simply give him the same criteria you gave me, he will be sure to bring it up. Don’t be afraid to negotiate for it. He will not allow himself to look like it, but the man is desperate to sell.”
“Why is this ship so hard to sell?” Ray asked.
Norman took a step back, “That I do not know.”
On most occasions this was not a question Ray would ask, however the smaller man in front of him did not seem very threatening so he decided to see if he could satisfy his curiosity. “Thank you for the info, however, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s in this for you?”
For the first time during their interaction the merchant’s nervous look faded as he laughed briefly.
“I too made a bet that he could sell it!”
Ray also chuckled, “Of course.” he said, “It’s always about the money with you guys.”
The merchant nodded, “Well then mister… what was your name again?”
“Allan.” Ray replied with the fake name he had been using for the past year on the station.
“Well then, mister Allan, do me a favor and go buy Sebrock’s ship, I’m sure it will be a good deal for both of us.”
Just like that their initial awkward interaction ended on a friendly note as Ray walked away with information about what could potentially be a suitable ship for him and the merchant hopeful that he would still make money off him, albeit indirectly.
He exited the dirty storage container that served as Norman’s shop and started heading back towards the sector’s train station. While walking he took a glance at a reflection on a rare clean spot on a metallic support pillar he passed by. He caught a glimpse of a strange hooded figure quickly ducking away out of vision. Ray had seen it before today, twice, but he did not show his worries. Someone was following him, he didn’t know who or why, but his senses told him that finding a ship and getting off the station were becoming urgent.
***
Unlike the cheap vendors who had to hide on the lower sectors James Sebrock had his shop located in an alleyway on the main market deck on sector two. The authorities knew that it was there, and knew that it was illegal, but because of his good reputation they just let it be. In general any sort of law enforcement in the FPA was known to be greatly understaffed and underfunded. On remote space stations such as Atlas five this was only magnified. Severe violence, thievery and murder were punished harshly while other so-called minor illegal activities where usually let go as long as it involved criminal dealing with these things amongst each other. Unless it involved heavy weaponry, ship trade was rarely interfered with.
To move between sectors, the station provided multiple elevators, staircases as well as an intersector train line. Any personal transportation vehicles were forbidden. The result was, much like in big cities down on actual planets the public transport on Atlas Five was very much clogged during rush hour.
Ray took what he considered the most efficient route to his destination. Train line eight which connected the lower free sectors with the higher ones was as usual not very crowded. He easily found himself a seat in one of the middle wagons and quietly waited during his journey upwards. The train only went until sector five, where Ray got off and took an elevator to sector three. Because of the large queues for separate elevators to sector two he decided to climb the stairs to avoid most of the crowd. The particular staircase he had in mind was a short ten minutes walk from the main elevator shaft where he got off.
Sector three was mostly a residential area for the upper-middle class. Its roads, buildings and general environment were set up to make it appear as if you were walking on a real planet's surface. Private investors had even gone as far as to install expensive and more realistic gravity generators to make everything feel more natural. To Ray who spent the majority of his past years in cheap artificial gravity it felt somewhat uncomfortable.
Despite its completely different atmosphere, the station’s no vehicles rule still applied. The roads in between the houses were narrow and did add some odd contrast to the otherwise planetary look. Ray walked mostly on a straight path towards his destination. Only occasionally would he see another person pass by or notice someone working in the garden of his or her front yard. Close to the staircase he made a turn to the right.
An old looking man wearing what looked like worn out brown rags sat on the floor behind the corner. A small wooden table of about knee height was placed in front of him and scattered on the table laid nine face-down cards. Ray was focused on just getting to his destination and did not pay much attention to the people or building around him but this figure felt so out of place that he could not help but slow down and wonder what this was about. As he passed by Ray noticed the man’s gaze following him.
“Excuse me.” the man said.
While out of place Ray thought the man must be some sort of fortune teller or other charlatan and so he calmly kept walking.
“Mister Ray Chelsea, I have something important to tell you.” the man called out.
Instantly Ray involuntarily froze in place. His mind, which had been calm and focused on finding Sebrock, fired into action. He was certain he had never told anyone on the station his real name and that he had always used his fake ID and credit card for everything. Yet this odd looking person had called him out with it. Had he not been careful enough and slipped up somewhere? Almost a year of living on the station rapidly scrolled through his mind but he could not find anything.
Ray turned out to further inspect the figure. The man stood up and his upper body rose out of the dark shadow cast by the high building it had been leaning against. His hair was long and mostly grey, occasional showing some stripes of its original black color. His clothing looked extremely poor and consisted of torn rags and very loose even darker brown cloth pants. The man was also barefooted. The entire appearance was unlike anything Ray had encountered on the station before. Even the poorest people at least had access to simple footwear and a coat. He strongly suspected that this man chose to look like this.
“Who are you?” Ray still managed to sound composed.
“My name is Erramus Khan” the man answered calmly.
“How do you know my name?”
The man pointed at the face down cards on the table and bowed down to rearrange them into a grid of three by three.
The fingers on Ray’s right hand nervously went up and down against his right pocket as his brain processed the current events. He instinctively reached for his gun but grabbed only air as he hadn’t been carrying it with him for the past year. His gaze was fixed on the figure in front of him but he could not think of an immediate answer.
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“You do not believe me.” the man said. “I can see that you are distrustful, but do not worry. I mean you no harm. I am only here to help you.”
Spirituality and religious scam artists were still active even in the centuries of deep space travel. However Ray was certain that a regular cultist would never be able to find out his real name. He still did not say anything and the man took the initiative to turn around the card which was now near the top left of the table.
“The top left represents the past.” He said as he revealed the card to Ray.
It was a picture of the Earth but on the bottom there was a short printed red text. “Ray Chelsea” it said.
Without waiting for an answer, the man picked up the bottom right card. A dark colored image of the grim reaper. “The bottom right represents the future.”
“I can see that you are running away from a great disaster. However, you will not be able to.” The man paused for a second, “It will chase you to the end of the universe.”
A cold shiver surged through Ray’s body. Thoughts raced through his mind, trying to figure out where he went wrong. He had been careful hiding his identity and was certain that no one in the FPA could know. That left him with the only possibility that this man was somehow part of Earth Sphere and that they had found out that was here. He shook his head in confusion; if that was the case he would be dead already. For a moment he considered believing that this man truly had some sort of spiritual power, but his rational mind quickly dismissed it.
The man then revealed the card in the center. A picture of a bearded human male wearing a golden crown and wielding a sword was printed on it. “The card in the center represents how you may yet change your fate. For you it contains the image of King Arthur. Do you know this old story from Earth?”
Ray was too distracted by his own thoughts to properly listen to and interpret the words. No matter how deep he thought he could not think of a way that his identity and location could have gotten exposed.
“Mister Chelsea.” The man called out and tried to get Ray’s attention. “I can see that you are unwilling to listen to me. However, I do implore that even if you ignore everything else I say you at least remember one thing. It will not only determine your faith but that of the entire universe.” The man took a deep breath and spoke in a serious and foreboding tone “Next time you must make a choice. Go left.”
Without waiting for a response, the man turned his back to Ray and started walking away. He disappeared into the first small street on the right side of the road, leaving his table and his card behind. It took Ray a moment to refocus and process what had happened. He considered giving chase, somehow capturing and interrogating the man. He had no doubt that he was physically capable of doing so, but he had taken no preparations for such a situation and it would only delay his departure from the station. Taking a look at his watch he sighed. “Four days.” he said to himself, quietly but out loud. For a few minutes he remained there standing still and concentrated on his breathing. Ray did not want to act impulsively and decided to stick to his original plan of trying to leave the station either today or tomorrow. Whatever that man was or had said, it is true that knowledge of his identity posed a threat to him, but Ray believed that it was illogical for anyone to appear in front of him and confront him with it. He decided there was no point in him thinking about this any further. His objectives didn’t change. Assuming things stayed within his expected parameters he would be safe in four days. With an increased pace he resumed his walk to sector two.
***
The market deck was in essence one long main road with the occasional short alleyway in between the stalls or structures that the merchants set up. The size and location of the shop depended on much rent the merchant was willing to pay to the station’s administration. The richest were allowed to set up great stalls and signs, clearly visible from a long distance. The poorest were forced into small and cramped positions in between advertisements for their competitors. Some were even forced away from the main street entirely and had to resort to setting up in the dark alleyways, completely out of vision. Of course there was a final category of merchants like Sebrock who went out of sight on purpose. There was a rumor going around that he did try to get a spot on the main road, which he certainly could afford, but the station’s administration had shut it down. They were ok with him continuing business, however they had to have some sort of plausible deniability of his existence should they ever get inspected by the central government.
Like almost everything else on the station most of what you could see on the market was made out of dirty grey metal. The road was metal plates, the shops were just rectangles of metal plates barely screwed together, and the outdoor stands were just tables made from metal plates with some goods laying on them. Materials like stone or wood were extremely rare on the station and displaying them in public would result in them getting stolen very quickly. The yellow-ish artificial lights that shone on the deck were dimmed ever so slightly, indicating that it was approaching evening time.
James Sebrock had refurbished a small storage container to serve as his office and store. Large and thin displays stretched from floor to ceiling among the walls and displayed images of famous ship models and their pilots. On the left wall, in between two displays hang multiple framed signatures which Ray recognized as belonging to well-known ship designers. At the back of the small room stood a small but clean white desk surrounded by three chairs with Sebrock himself sitting at the one furthest away from the entrance. He seemed to deliberately keep his focus on his tablet to give Ray some time to inspect the room. It was clear that Sebrock had spent considerable time decorating it. Ray imagined that this was what a rich teenage boy’s room whose dream was to become a famous spaceship pilot would look like. But the man sitting at the table wasn’t so young anymore, and Ray wasn’t even sure if he could even pilot at all. Still the place gave him a very different vibe from all of the other ship vendors he had visited. While the others were dark and dirty this one was bright and radiated wealth. Clearly Sebrock was very well off. He recognized an Earth Sphere cruiser on the wall and sighed. Before he could put too much though on it Sebrock had risen from his chair and approached him. His attire was very much in line with the environment. Ray could identify it as an older generation FPA admiral uniform but he could not determine if it was real or fake. Regardless, the sleek dark blue jacket and black Kevlar reinforced pants looked very expensive.
“Welcome, I’m James Sebrock, what can I help you with?” James Sebrock asked with a friendly tone.
“I’m Allan Gregor, I’m looking for a ship, but I do have quite a bit of requirements.” Ray answered.
“You’re come to the right place, as you may know, not only do I have the largest selection of ships on the station, I have the largest number of ships in this half of the galaxy! Just tell me what you need and we’ll find you something.” Sebrock replied full of confidence.
Ray listed the specifications the same way as he had searched for them at the previous vendor. “It needs to be able to fly at least three months without having to resupply, I need to be able to fly it alone, it needs a speed of around 15c or higher and…” he paused for a second, “It needs to be armed.”
“What you’re looking for is a pirate ship.” Sebrock remarked after thinking for just a second, his tone changed to something more serious.
Ray realized he had not looked at it that way at all but Sebrock was right, his specifications did match those of ships commonly used by pirates. “I hadn’t realised that. But I can assure you I’m not planning on doing any pirating.”
“No, you certainly don’t look like a pirate either. Not that I would care, I’m just here for business.” Sebrock was scrolling through something on the tablet he was holding. He took a moment to pause like he was thinking and then asked; “Are you familiar with the FPA-2 control scheme?”
Ray felt somewhat pleased that the information he had gotten was correct but did not show it. “As a matter of fact I am.” he replied calmly.
Sebrock made some movements with his tablet and pointed it towards one of the large displays on the right wall. “Then I think this one will match your criteria the best.” he said as a large specification sheet was now being displayed next to them.
Ray closely inspected the display. The ship was called the “Amy Dee” and looked like a modified FPA light cruiser. It was arrow shaped, with a broader and larger spearhead shaped front, a thinned down midsection and a large rectangle shaped engine block at the back housing four customized FPA magnet core burst engines. In the middle of the midsection two small wings increased the span of the ship slightly; each wing was equipped with one mid-range laser battery and two interceptor cannons. Ray knew that an actual military cruiser was broader and therefore better armored, had larger wings for more armaments, had six engines instead of four and had an extra fin on top of the engine block for increased stability and turning speed. But the similarities were still striking to him.
It was as if Sebrock had heard him thinking. “This ship is actually built from a light cruiser chassis. Though many things have been modified.”
“But who does this?” Ray wondered out loud, “It’s like a civilianized warship.”
Sebrock chuckled, “Yes that is a nice way to put it. To be fair, I don’t know the origins of this ship. I bought it off another merchant who insisted on not sharing where he found this with me. My guess would be that it belonged to some retired military officer who wanted something familiar to travel with.”
“But a ship this size... “Ray said, “It can’t be flown with just one pilot.”
Sebrock nodded, “Technically you are correct, however there is a catch, you seemed to have read over something. Look at the detailed tech specs to the right.”
Things fell into place when Ray read the details. This ship had a military grade AI onboard. It would indeed be possible to fly this ship with AI assistance. It also clarified to Ray why no one wanted to buy this otherwise excellent looking ship. Punishments for flying illegally acquired ships without proper taxes and documents were fairly lenient and mostly involved regularizing the ship and paying some fines. Possession and usage of a military grade AI would get you thirty years in prison at least. It was one of the few areas where the FPA law enforcement was very strict.
“Holy hell you have an actual military AI on this thing.” Ray said with a sound of bewilderment in his voice.
“I will admit that this thing is certainly one of the more exotic vessels in my collection. But how about it, does this match your criteria?”
Ray sighed and was willing to take the risk of flying this, but now it came down to a final critical point, the price. “Alright, what’s your price on this thing?”
“It seems that you do properly realize the value of this ship, but I can see from your reaction that you also realize that this is not an easy thing to sell. So I propose two hundred fifty thousand, I think that is a fair price.”
As expected Sebrock started off with a price that was out of his reach. Ray was not a trained haggler, but considering the circumstances he felt confident he could pull something off at this starting point. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’ll find anyone who is willing to take the risk and pay that price. I’m offering one hundred seventy thousand.”
The salesman didn’t flinch at the lowball offer and instead just smiled. Ray could almost feel the relief coming off him. “That is just too low, How about two hindered twenty thousand, this is a very generous offer.”
Ray shook his head and replied almost immediately “One ninety.”
Sebrock had to think for a moment, “How about this? Two hundred thousand and I’ll give you three months of premium rations for free?”
This was an agreeable deal for Ray, who did not hesitate to confirm it; he reached out his hand, “Deal.”
With a satisfied smile on both of their faces the two men shook hands.
“Not that I distrust your excellent reputation, but I would still like to inspect the ship myself before making the payment.” Ray added.
“Of course, of course, this is no problem.” Sebrock reassured him. “When would you like to handle this?”
“As soon as possible. To be honest I look forward to leaving immediately after verifying the ship.”
Sebrock nodded in satisfaction, “I still have some business to attend but we can meet at the western docks in an hour if this suits you.”
“That would suit me very well.”
Ray left the store satisfied and felt confident that the ship would be in good shape. Sebrock also seemed happy and had already made the arrangements to load the promised supplies and prepare the ship for departure.
***
Since he would be leaving immediately followed by a long flight Ray decided to take his time and walk most of the way towards the docks. Once he cleared the busy section of the main market street he took the time to cancel his housing using his mobile terminal. For a moment he had considered not bothering but taking a little bit of time fit his own policy to try and not make other people’s life harder than it needed to be. This would avoid any sort of eviction procedure after the system noticed he had not paid or checked in for a certain amount of time and thus avoided the bureaucratic mess that came with it. Station officials were already overworked.
The further away he walked from the center of the market the quieter the place became. The last five hundred meter of the market road was essentially empty. All there was to see were empty metal walls and some unfinished structures. Finally at the end a three meter thick barrier separated the commerce section from the industrial one. After scanning Ray’s access card the large automatic door opened.
The start of the industrial zone gave off much of the same vibe as the end of the commercial one. It was desolate and only in the far distance could Ray see vague shapes of structures. He continued towards them walking on the sidewalk of a wider road.
Unlike the market section, the industrial section was never meant to be crossed on foot. Sidewalks and other non-vehicle walkways were only ever constructed for emergency purposes. The station administration did allow civilians to enter and travers the area. Most people only did so once, out of curiosity. Afterwards they would take the railway line to the docks whenever they needed to be there. The industrial area contained mainly factories that produced the materials the station needed to be self-sufficient. Food, water, clean air, waste processing were all done in large separate plants. The majority of the work done here was automated with only a handful of human supervisors and machine operators present to guide the processes. The temperature in the area was also significantly higher than in other parts of the station. While the soft humming of air conditioning could be heard coming from the ceiling it did not completely dissipate the heat generated by the factories and their machinery.
While aesthetics and design were in general not strong points for FPA engineers the structures in the industrial section were particularly ugly. Every structure was nothing more than a simple rectangle shaped hangar created from metal plates. Sizes and heights varied greatly. The two buildings that stood out the most and could be seen from a large distance away were the two air towers whose height reached all the way up the one hundred meter ceiling. They were two out of the station's twelve air towers which provided the station with breathable air. Out of the twelve towers only three needed to be operational at all time for the life support to operate sufficiently.
Ray slowly strolled towards the large cluster of buildings in the center of the area. The sound of his footsteps dampened by the crackling sounds of engines coming from all around him. Eventually he reached a fork in the road. He knew it did not matter which road he ended up taking as both just circled around the main section of factories in the middle. Since he was already walking on the right side of the road he followed the fork upwards.
But then after a few steps he stopped. The voice of the strange man he had encountered on sector three played back in his head. “Next time you have to make a choice, go left.” A chill went through his body. Was this not a choice, technically by following the road here, he went right on the road split. Ray shook his head, he did not want to believe in mysticism and superstition yet something compelled him to reconsider. His rational mind wanted him to ignore the craziness; however something in his feelings made him unable to advance. Frustrated he sighed, and looked behind him. Then he turned around and took the left path instead.