Productivity and Cost Management (Part 3 of 3)

He attempted to have his hidden assets liquidated and transferred to an Ethernet Bill Pay site. Two months dragged by in which Maxwell was unable to contact his accountant. He had sent the requests and checked the status of the investments which, within the hour, had disappeared. Growing increasingly agitated each passing day.

*

SECTION MISSING

Bernard and Maxwell were getting ready to sleep; Maxwell had not changed into his sleeping clothes. Bernard was wondering why, as he disapproved of breaking routine. He was about the broach the subject when Ronny entered the room. A highly irregular night, thought Bernard, he wondered if he would ever be able to calm down again enough to sleep. Ronny glared at him. Moments passed. Bernard offered him a glass of water, or ‘Perhaps a cup of tea?’

‘Out you go Bernie, private time.’

‘Oh, yes, out, of course,’ Bernard shuffled around Ronny carefully. He stopped at the door and looked back over his shoulder for instruction from Maxwell. He looked utterly lost, the poor fellow. He disappeared into the corridor.

Ronny closed the door after him and smiled amiably at Maxwell, ‘It’s your last day with us, how do you feel?’ he handed a palm PC to Maxwell.

‘It’s ready to go.’ He said, ‘Only, I need some assurances. How am I leaving?’

‘We have an external Taxi waiting to take you. I’ll take you down there as soon as you confirm that.’ He indicated the PC by jabbing it with a long thick finger.

Maxwell hesitated, weighing his options, Ronny would not allow him to hold off the payment, and if Maxwell protested, the deal might be blown. He was a terrible gambler. He signed the confirmation with his index finger. And noted Ronny’s smile flicker, then widen.

When the door slid open Bernard was there, he had been there the whole time, waiting. Ronny glared at him and Bernard stepped aside awkwardly. Maxwell following with a last goodbye nod for Bernard, and he silently wished him luck.

They took the service elevator into the dark bowels of B Block. Coming from the upper levels where you never cast a shadow, Maxwell had to step very carefully along the narrow platforms. The lighting was minimal, just enough to navigate, and any extra light given off by machines or display panels. Steam hissed out at them in thick blasts, and water dripped from the canopy of platforms and catwalks above. They navigated narrow stairs and ladders, past structures, and machines Maxwell could only guess at their function. They must be water filters, air generation and purification, heating systems, waste management tanks. It was a different world down here, dark and humid. Chaos lived here.

Maxwell feared if anything went wrong he would not remember the way back. The lower levels were a maze of dull grey steel gangways and catwalks.

Ronny came to a stop, they were at a bank of air locks, four of the them, spaced approximately three meters apart. Ronny began to prepare the first on the left. He seemed to be reading the pictorial instructions on the chat next to the hatch.

Maxwell peered through the port view window into the chamber, enough room for three men crouched over. The outer hatch was solid, no glass. He began to feel sick; there was no way of knowing if there was anything other than space beyond that outer hatch, cold, and infinite, and final.

Ronny spoke into his handset and confirmed permission for docking. He held a hand to his ear, apparently receiving the reply. But Maxwell heard nothing. Ronny pushed the hard lock up and swung the hatch open with a rusty grind. He indicated for Maxwell to enter.

Maxwell hesitated on the threshold of the decompression chamber, he braced himself while he inspected the interior, if Ronny wanted him in there to kill him, than he might try to push me, he thought.

He knew he was being foolish. He could not overpower Ronny. Ronny looked like the type who liked to fight, and was armed. Besides the baton, Maxwell thought of Ronny’s hands, he had big bony hands, painful looking hands.

His heart began to pound, he sort for escape, and then he saw it, something that confirmed his fears, a small light that said this was Maxwell’s last chance. He had caught site of the warning light, indicating a vacuum on the outer hatch. There was no taxi.

He began to back up, ‘Isn’t it unsafe to be in an air lock when a craft docks… something to do with air pressure and equalization? I think I better stay out here until it is safe,’ he said turning.

Ronny struck him with his large painful fist. He hit him on the bridge of the nose, breaking it. There was no pain, just white and stars. Maxwell had never known you really do see stars. He was on his back, in the air lock, unable to see. He expected to hear the hatch close, the hiss of air, and the countdown, all the while he would be unable to do anything. His vision was searing white. He tried to get up, but could not get his bearings, his world just turned over and his weight shifted randomly.

And then someone yelled. There was a fight going on, a scuffle. Someone heavy stepped on Maxwell’s abdomen and than sat down on his head, further crushing his nose. A fumbling hand took his arm and pulled him up from under the other person’s body. He opened his eyes, burry with tears and blood he couldn’t quite make out whom, but it was an inmate, he recognized the standard issue bed shirt and shorts. He was let go, and staggered. As the blazing white light faded and the pain set in he heard the hatch close heavily and the hard lock shoved into position.

It was Bernard who had pulled him out, ‘I followed you, sorry,’ said Bernard.

Maxwell cleared his eyes with his shirt, wiping away the tears, then holding the shirt there to soak the blood, ‘Bernard, oh my god, thank you.’ He burbled in a nasal voice, ‘’e wash about ‘o ‘ill me. ‘ou shaved me.’

‘Of course,’ said Bernard breathlessly, ‘you’re my roommate.’

Maxwell leaned on the hatchway and squinted into the air lock where Ronny was clawing his way to his feet. He double checked the hard lock, his hard covered in his own blood. Bernard joined him in peering in at Ronny. Ronny seemed to be coming to his senses. He’d seen the two faces at the view port and screamed in anger, but they heard no sound. Maxwell could read some of it on his lips, and it did not bode well for them. ‘Wha’ ‘o we do wi’h ‘im?’ he said to Bernard who was now studying the posted tutorial.

Bernard muttered in concentration, ‘We could flush him.’

Maxwell peered in again at Ronny, who was kicking the hatch with all his might, then pulling and pushing on the hatches inner mechanics. ‘We can’t murder him.’ He said quietly.

‘Oh!’ stated Bernard.

Maxwell thought for a moment. If they left him in there for now, he would use his radio, as soon as he remembered it, he would call for help. Could they count on his embarrassment to keep him quiet? No, he would want revenge. He was that type of person.

‘He isn’t going to use the radio any time soon, not if he was doing what I think he was doing,’ said Bernard, ‘he was trying to kill you, that’s murder. The company would not like that.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ he said. With no better plan, he would hide in the bowels of the complex, stealing food and collecting the water that dripped from the cooling units. Maybe there was moss there too, fungi at least. It wouldn’t be so bad. He would have Bernard for company. He’d seen rats too.

‘Ok,’ he said finally, ‘make sure it’s secure, and we get as far away from here as we can, we…’ Maxwell watched Bernard begin flicking switches. He watched green lights turn red and pressure gages come to life.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘I’m…’ Bernard said, as he punched in the last code and hit enter, ‘…making it secure.’

WARNING, VACUUM DETECTED, AIR LOCK A12 NOT SECURE.

An orange light began to spin and flash above the hatch and a loud repeating horn sounded.

DECOMPRESSION IN FIVE SECONDS

Ronny’s panicked face appeared at the view port, he was yelling and banging on the glass, silently.

‘What have you done, get out of the way!’ Maxwell pushed Bernard aside…

FOUR SECONDS

…And began to study the console, a mass of esoteric lights, switches and a number pad. Lost, he studied the tutorial page next to the hatch.

THREE SECONDS

He scanned the chart for the right information; he looked for the words Emergency and Shut Down, and Abort.

TWO SECONDS

Bernard was pointing to a red button on the other side of the hatch.

ONE SECOND

Maxwell dove past him and hit the button hard. He held his breath in anticipation but his guts sank as the voice called out:

DECOMPRESSION BEGUN

Oxygen turns to water vapour when released into space. Ronny began to gasp for air, fish like, and his eyes turned bloodshot. As his face fell from view, his sweaty hand left a trail of prints running down the glass of the view port.

Maxwell jabbed the button several more times, unbelieving. They stood in silence for a few long moments until Bernard spoke, ‘You know, it’s the thought that counts.’

Maxwell thought on this a moment, and said, ‘Not to Ronny.’

*

Max sat at his work station running his diagnostics, his leg jumping up and down and his eyes darting. He couldn’t escape the fear that everyone knew. He was back at his desk. He had wanted to run and hide, the tunnels down there had to lead somewhere he had argued, but Bernard insisted they go back to work, and simply confess what had happened, he was sure it would all be fine. Maxwell had compromised and agreed to go back to work on the condition that Bernard never mentions any of this again to anyone, ever.

Three weeks had gone. Bernard had kept his word; he had not mentioned the incident since. They walked together along the bright corridor. He had had a nice meal. He watched some infomercials in the DV room, and then walked back to his suite with Bernard.

Each week Maxwell visited Dr Lovegood, he received his vitamins, lay still as she ran the scanner the length of his body and savored their time together. His broken nose had set and healed well. She even smiled. There were two things that calmed him, that stopped his legs jumping, the workouts, and his checkups with Dr Lovegood; that day, he had had both.

The night they came for him Maxwell had accepted his fate.

He had come back from the gymnasium exhausted that night. His hologramatic trainer had pushed hard, following him from one machine to the next barking encouragement. Once the workout had ended Maxwell felt calmer, peaceful.

‘So, any progress?’ asked Bernard, referring to Dr Lovegood.

‘Not really,’ he said, ‘I think she like me, though. She seems to care.’

‘She’s a doctor, you know?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘She knows all about… she’s an expert in…’ Bernard looked embarrassed, ‘Male anatomy.’

‘Oh… right.’

Changing the subject on Bernard was no easy task. Bernard was terribly single minded and focused. He worked in the Block as an atomic engineer. A fine title, thought Maxwell, until you understood what exactly it was Bernard did all fourteen hours of the working day. He worked as supervising officer over the terribly complex but completely automated Base Nano-synthesizer. Bernard monitored long base chains of molecular compounds used in the production of a single nanotech component, matching component strings to string blueprints. With an anomaly rate of 0.0002 Bernard said he was the last line of defence. Maxwell assumed his main duties included ensuring the three ACTUAL monitoring systems were turned on the in the morning and that the power cords had not been kicked from the wall sockets.

He showered and changed into his pyjamas, white boxer shorts and t-shirt. Bernard lay fiddling with his palm PC, working under his reading light. Maxwell rolled over and sighed, he felt good, he felt sleep rolling in. As he drifted deeper, he dreamed of Dr Lovegood, of touching her arms, her smooth skin, with sensitive pale hairs prickling with pleasure as he slid the tips of his fingers along her musculature, down the palm of her cold hand and over the tips of her rough fingers.

The door unlocked and hissed open, bringing Maxwell back from a happy place. Light from the corridor silhouetted two heavy set guards. They didn’t pause. They picked Maxwell up by the arms and lead him without fuss out of the room and into the harsh light. The stopped at the same goods lift and Maxwell knew their plan. They would do to him exactly what he had done to Ronny. He didn’t protest, he didn’t struggle. He heard Bernard voice calling after him as the lift doors closed. They stood on either side of him as the left descended.

Out of embarrassed silence more than curiosity, Maxwell said, ‘So what’s happening?’ in a surprisingly casual manner.

‘You’re leaving us,’ Said a guard.

‘Oh,’ said Maxwell.

When the lift doors opened they were indeed in the bowels of B Block. The grey corroding steel, dark catwalks, humming generators, the tanks, the low orange lighting, was all just the same. The guard’s boots made the steel grating clank and shudder, the echo’s thriving, if a little confused, within the chaotic matrix of steel and hard surfaces. They came to the very same corridor, the bank of emergency air locks. The corridor where Ronny had died.

It had been self defence, mostly. There would be no Bernard this time however. This time Maxwell walked the length of the corridor toward the very same air lock, Ronny’s desperate palm prints still smeared down the glass. Ronny would have frozen solid within seconds. Maxwell wondered what expression Ronny might have had on his face at the very end, what insights would his last and forever frozen face relay? He stopped at the air lock. But the guards shoved him on, past the hatch past the air lock altogether and farther along the corridor.

‘What’s going on?’ he said, concern creeping into his voice, his heart rate raising. The guards tightened their already forceful grip on him. ‘It was an accident! It wasn’t my fault! You don’t have to do this!’ he said, but the guards continued their frog march.

If it was not to be the air lock, what horror would it be? Ronny’s death had not seemed a very pleasant way to go, but knowing his fate, Maxwell was able to accept it, become Zen, and dance with the shifting of the sands. Now there were untold millions of horrible things that could happen, in any combination.

They turned left at the end of the corridor and on they went, along more corridors, and they areas were growing larger, they were leaving the maze of mSTATE intestines.

‘Where the hell are you taking me?’ he repeated, now forcing both heals along the gritty iron floor.

They dragged him into a medium sized docking bay. There were people bathing in orange light, five people. Three standing in a loose group on a low platform in the centre of the dock, and the other two were working at a control consol. The three in the centre were arguing, and he knew one of the voices, ‘Doctor Lovegood,’ he cried.

She turned but did not smile. Terrible and ridicules thoughts ran a muck in Maxwell’s head.
Then Maxwell noticed the man next to her, smiling at him, no, grinning at him. Saio, dressed in green cargo shorts, a loose vest with many over sized pockets and an orange singlet. His ropey muscles enhanced by sweat and grime.

Saio then extended the grin to include a large friendly smile. He then directed Maxwell’s attention to the large man to his right, ‘this is warden Strung… he has kindly agreed to cut you loose, Max.’

Warden Strung nodded curtly but said nothing, only glancing briefly at Maxwell, than he turned his little hard eyes on Dr. Lovegood and seemed to pick up from where Maxwell had interrupted, ‘I think we should reconsider, your services are worth much more than what has been paid.’

‘It’s a matter of courtesy. So everyone is happy. You have my research. The next physician should be able to follow the instructions. My job is done… time to move on. That was always the deal.’

‘All the same, we sign you for a period of one year. To ensure a smooth transition, we will need more than what has been offered.’

‘It’s that or nothing.’

The Warden was turning red, visibly, even under orange light. His round and puck marked face shuddered with anger. Saio took a step between the two, the Doctor and Strung. ‘Now, we can work it out…’

‘You don’t OWN ME, Barry.’ Lovegood yelled over Saio.

Drowning out the wardens’ next nasty looking remark, several booming horn blasts sounded and a synthetic female voice announced the commencement of docking procedures. They all turned the Blast Door as a slow series of muffled metallic sounds filtered in.

‘Warden,’ said Saio, bringing all attention back, ‘We can work out any further details over the wire. Rest assured we will want everyone leaving on the best of terms. But, our ride is here, for now, we have to push on.’

“This isn’t finish’ said Strung, ‘you’ll be back, and when you are it’s not going to be easy for you.’

There was a moment’s silence before Strung stormed away, taking his guards with him.

‘This way Max,’ said Saio, placing a hand of his shoulder.

‘What the hell is all this?’

‘Have you met Lydia Lovegood?’

‘Doctor’ she said coolly taking a position nest to Saio as they all slowly moved across the docking bay.

‘Right, Doctor’ he repeated, ‘and we are getting you out of this place. It seems we’re in need of some replacement crew. And I… thought of you.’

The blast door’s pressure locks released, a number of gas streams hissed from its heavy frame. It began to open, grinding upward. It had to weigh several tons.

‘So how about it?’

‘How about what?’

‘Joining the crew, as a science officer.’

‘How did you get me out?’

‘That’s the other thing… you owe us a little money. Chump change really. So, the job…?’ Saio stopped Maxwell on the threshold of the docking port. Lydia continued in, she didn’t look back, she disappeared into the craft.

‘Yeah… count me in.’

‘Great,’ said Saio ‘Welcome aboard.’

‘Just out of interest…’ said Maxwell, ‘Exactly how much money?’

‘Three hundred.’

‘Three hundred… THOUSAND?’

‘You killed a guard, mate... that sort of thing bumps up the price. But I wouldn’t worry about it.’ He lead Maxwell over the threshold and into the cargo bay.

They strolled between towers of grey cargo containers, belted together, twelve foot tall. The Cargo bay door closed behind them. Saio looked over the cargo as they passed, smiling, like showing Maxwell a prized collection. ‘We are primarily a cargo vessel. At least that’s what we look like. Appearance is everything in this business. There’s no real money in transporting. To much time wasted in getting from one place to another, the numbers don’t add up. We do deep space salvage mainly. The cargo is just the excuse we need… no one cruses through low sec space for no reason.

‘We’re talkin’ big money here Max my man. So don’t you worry about the little debt, you’ll have that paid off in no time.’

They had left the cargo bay and were taking a series of narrow stairways up into the ship. The ship began to disengage from the stations dock. The motion turned Maxwell’s stomach. It was hard to keep up with what Saio was saying.

‘That’s just part of it,’ Saio said, apparently unaffected by their climb, ‘there are numerous risks involved in salvage, some of which one needs specific talents to overcome. Atmospheric challenges, toxins, biological threats, sounding familiar? Yep, that’s where you and the Doc come in. It’s a vital role, and you get a good cut of the profits. Which vary from job to job. Are you getting all this?’

‘Yeah,’ said Maxwell, ‘Just thinking… what was all that about back there? I thought Doctor Lovegood was an inmate?’

‘Nah,’ he said, ‘She’s a scientist, and she needed a cover. She has worked with us a couple of times. We were in need and she was ready to come back. Worked out good.’

‘What was she working on?’

‘Have to ask her, I think that’s best. You know. You were part of it… every inmate was. Still is. But let’s not get side tracked, yeah?’

‘I was part of it?’

‘She’ll fill you in I’m sure, you’ll be having a check up with her as soon as you get acquainted with everyone.’

The ships interior was well maintained, with fresh thin layers of paint, smooth chrome fixtures, all metal, no plastic. Maxwell had not been on one like it. The few times he had travelled it had been in commercial people transports, all plastic and two minute chicken Kiev’s. This felt more military, only it had flare. Designer chic. They had passed a number of crew cabins, in side were the crews various and colourful belongings, things like posters, and entertainment units. Maxwell only court glimpses but it seemed each cabin housed two berths, a sink and mirror as standard. As for the occupants, there were none at this moment.

He hadn’t been listening to Saio, who had continued talking. Saio stopped and entered one of the cabins, Maxwell followed.

‘Here you are, on the left, here. You share with Beasley. You’ll get on well with him. He’s our tech, and a damn good one.’ Maxwell could have guessed the profession, by the smell of machine oil, the tools and scattered unidentifiable machine components. ‘There’s a jumpsuit in the locker for you. It’ll do till we take on supplies, you can get kit up then.

You’ll meet Donna, our supplies officer. Tell her what you need, anything, she is very open minded,’ he winked. ‘You get dressed, I’ll wait out here, and then we’ll go meet the crew.’

Maxwell sat on the bunk, unable to form a single and distinct opinion on what was happening. Maxwell still sat holding the jumpsuit when Saio hammered on the door. Maxwell put on the suit, light grey with a place for a name label on the breast. If this was going to be it… he was going to make a good first impression. He stood in front of the mirror and washed the sweat off his face. He smelt of fear. He combed down his hair, a mess from his brief time in bed, a lifetime ago.