It took them nearly an hour to get within viewing distance of the security checkpoint. The chatter on unsecured, short distance comms channels had grown increasing angry and bitter. People got paid for the time they put in working on repairs. No one got paid for waiting in line to get back inside the station. The hourlong wait was coming straight out of everyone’s precious down time and frustrations were running high. They had finally made it inside the oxygenated second chamber on the way into the space station and removed their helmets. Clara could now see the face of the cop manning the security checkpoint. She suspected there should have been two or more people but there was only one man, looking increasingly frustrated and annoyed. She watched carefully and noted that he was scanning most IDs as people went past.

  It was Henry who spoke up first, keeping his voice soft enough to be out of the cop’s hearing range but perfectly pitched for those in their immediate vicinity. “If that cop weren’t scanning IDs, we’d all be at the bar having a drink.” He said. “We’re all working double, triple shifts just to meet our quotas. I need to get some goddamn sleep. Let us through! Let. Us. Through. Let us through!” He smiled slightly as the chant got picked up by others in the vicinity, spreading like wildfire across the cramped, crowded space as the exhausted, hungry, and oxygen deprived crowd channeled their frustration into those words.

  “Let us through!”

  “Shut up.” The cop shouted. “Shut up shut up shut up! Shut it or I swear to god I’ll have the damn lot of you arrested.

  It was an empty threat and everyone in the cramped, oxygen deprived room knew it. The station was brutally shorthanded, as were the cops. No one had the resources to keep people in the brig.

  Clara sighed. The cop was cornered now. If he gave in, the crowd won. And you never, ever let the crowd win. Every cop in the universe knew that. With inevitable predictability, the cop doubled down. His gun was unholstered now, pointing directly at the next person in line. “Scan your goddamn ID” the cop snapped “or you’ll be spending the night right here, passed out on the floor. I just hope everyone bothers to step over, but it’s a rough crowd out there. No guarantees.”

  Glumly, the unfortunate woman who was next in line used the scanner on her own ID and showed the cop the result, his hands now fully occupied by the gun.

  Clara noted the tense line of James’s shoulders and realized there was a good chance they were all about to see some fireworks. With an audible groan of exasperation, she started shoving her way up to the front of the line. “Excuse me. Let me through. Just let me through dammit, I promise you won’t regret it.” She elbowed a large, angry looking man sharply in his stomach, causing him to double over.

  The cop watched somewhat glumly as she continued making her way up to the front of the line. “That was an impressive hit, I’ll give you that.” He noted. “You wanna tell me why you’ve decided to hold up the line?”

  “How about we get a nice drink?” Clara said cheerfully, blue eyes sparkling. “On me.”

  There was a tense pause as the exhausted people in the room held their collective breath, waiting to see what would happen next. The cop looked Clara up and down slowly, noticeably playing to the crowd. The bulky space suit wasn’t conducive to showing off anyone’s curves but the combination of Clara’s height, confident blue eyes and short blond hair clearly hit all the right notes. The gun barrel lowered slightly.

  “Well now. I do admire a lady who knows how to throw a punch.”

  Clara’s smile went an astonishing notch brighter as she leaned forward. “That’s not all I can do.” She said.

  The cop held on for one more long moment, playing to the crowd and making it clear he was in control. Clara let him. She already knew she won.

  “The bar on twelfth in twenty?” The cop asked finally.

  “You got it.” Clara agreed with a more sedate smile. “My name’s Clara.” She removed the gloves of her space suit and held our her hand. “Nice to meet you” she looked down at his name tag “Eric.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Clara.” Eric responded with a grin of his own, finally allowing some of the relief to show in his eyes. “All right people.” He turned back to the crowd. “You can go on through. And next time, try getting here earlier, eh?”

  Securely inside the station, Clara waited patiently for the rest of the team to arrive. Tom’s grin as he walked towards her was enough to light up a room. He said nothing, just slapped her on the back as he led the way towards crew quarters. “You’ll have to show me around, Tom.” Clara said as she followed him. “I’ve only got twenty minutes to freshen up.”

  “You got it, lady.” Tom said with a sketchy salute in her general direction. He paused as his gaze moved on to James. “You look different.” Tom said, noticing the altered shape of the other man’s face.

  “Life changes people.” James said with a slight smile, his eyes sliding pointedly in Stacy’s direction. Stacy was still with them, apparently choosing to continue following Tom.

  “You’re my new hero, Clara.” Stacy said with a broad grin. “You ever need anything at all, you just ask girl.”

  In contrast, James looked far less amused as he turned towards Clara. “He doesn’t just want a drink.” James said tightly.

  “Nooooo.” Clara said sarcastically, blue eyes opened wide. “I never would have guessed.”

  “What do you want us to do?”

  “The job.” Clara said simply. “We do the job.” She met James’s eyes head on, knowing he would understand what she meant.

  “Clara.” James began before pausing, unsure what to say next. He knew Clara was asking him to leave her alone, without backup. To handle this however she wanted to handle it. And she was right. It was the right thing to do. For the mission. The mission took precedence. Completing the mission was how they all went home, alive. He swallowed, ignoring the slight feeling of nausea in his stomach. “If you’re not feeling any fireworks, remember we brought some with us.” He said instead, very much aware of Stacy’s presence, standing next to Tom. “Tom, will you and Stacy show Clara the way to the bar?” James said reluctantly.

  “You got it.” Tom slapped him on the back in reassurance.

  Stacy looked from Clara to James with a slightly puzzled look on her face. Everyone’s marriage was different, but this James guy didn’t seem like to sort to be so tolerant. She shrugged, focusing on Tom. James was none of her business and there was enough there to keep her from even trying to get involved.

  The crew headquarters consisted of narrow hallways lined with sleeping pods, stacked three high along each wall. Noting the height of the pods, James suspected that the hallways were initially intended to contain stacks of two pods on each side, and the third level had been squeezed in to manage space shortages. Payment for each pod was made ahead of time, by the hour. A glowing red light indicated which pods were prepaid and occupied. Some paid several days ahead and returned to the same pod, leaving them empty while they worked. Others were more cost conscious, taking their equipment with them or leaving it in a lower priced locker and paying only for the time they planned to sleep.

  The hallways were crowded, teeming with the sounds of voices, snoring, and music. Makeshift conversation groups had been set up along the way, with people sitting on cushions and suitcases, playing cards or watching movies together on the small screens of someone’s pc. While there was some laughter and drunken cheer, there was an underlying feeling of tension in the air. Everyone seemed exhausted, everyone was on edge. The station was clearly operating far above capacity and it was discernible in the crowded hallways, the lowered air quality, the gaunt, hungry looks on the faces of some of the personnel. It took them a while to find four pods that were relatively adjacent. James could easily see that a grown adult and the oversized trunk would not fit together inside a single pod. The damn thing really was too big.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “I say we book these for a few days before they get filled up.” Tom suggested, knowing they were fortunate to find the spare pods this close together. “Stacy I’m sorry we can’t find something closer for you, will you be all right?”

  Stacy nodded with a shrug, somewhat disappointed Tom hadn’t chosen to tag along with her but accepting that there wasn’t much she could do about it.

  “Meet you at the bar on twelfth in ten?” Tom called out after her.

  Stacy nodded with another shrug, feeling somewhat less enthusiastic.

  Clara set her duffel down on the lower sleeping pod and glanced around. She noted on her way in that the bathroom and bathing facilities were available at intervals of five rows of pods on each side. Women’s facilities on the right and men’s on the left. “I’m going to go wash up.” She said.

  James looked like he was about to say something but once again, in the end remained silent. He was carrying the large trunk but uncertain of where to leave it. In the end, he sat it down inside one of the four spare pods. It’s not as if they were planning to get much sleep.

  “You could leave it in the paid lockers.” Tom said with a nod towards the trunk.

  “We have some work to do before we go to sleep.” James said, watching Clara’s retreating back as she walked towards the bathing facilities.

  “You need any help?” Tom asked.

  “No thanks, you go on and get that drink.” James said, his eyes still on Clara’s retreating back.

  ---

  Clara looked around the bathroom, trying to mask the look of distaste on her face. It wasn’t clean. The smell of human waste and unwashed bodies wafted strongly in the air. After using the facilities, she walked up to the hand washing station, only to discover that there was no water at all. The faucets dispensed some sort of gel-like substance, smelling strongly of disinfectant. Hesitantly, she smeared it on her hands and then, when no especially negative reaction occurred, on her face. Her hair hadn’t been washed in three days but there wasn’t much she could do about that. She stared at herself in the small, dirty mirror above the slime dispensing faucet. Clara was, technically, a virgin. You’d have to get very technical about it. But there it was.

  She vaguely recalled the words of inspiration James gifted them earlier that week. Thousands of their own had died to accomplish less than what the three of them would achieve on this mission alone. Everything else paled in comparison. A woman behind her cleared her throat, obviously waiting impatiently to use the faucet. Space was limited and the facilities were crowded. Clara pressed the faucet again, watching glumly as another glob of clear gel fell into her hands. She smeared it on her face and neck, took a deep breath, and headed back out.

  Tom and Stacy were waiting for her, seemingly refreshed and unperturbed by the unsanitary, slime dispensing bathroom facilities. Clara nodded. “Lead the way.” She said, noting that Tom was watching her with a shadow of the same worried expression James had on his face earlier. She ignored him.

  It was a surprisingly long walk to the bar “on twelfth”, which turned out to be the twelfth corridor from the station entrance they used earlier. Every hallway was crowded and teeming with people, including the noises, smells, and tension that came from large crowds packed in an overly small space. Clara breathed deeply, trying to convince herself that the lack of oxygen she was experiencing was all in her head. Perhaps some of it was. But with so many people in such tight quarters, she would not be surprised if life support systems were struggling to keep up. And it was hot. Chilled from her less than perfectly insulated space suit, she hadn’t noticed it as much until now but as her body temperature adjusted, the unaccustomed heat was adding to the feeling of suffocation.

  The bar was more of the same. Crowded tables filled with people, each table clearly surrounded by more chairs than it was ever meant to support. As she surveyed a room full of strangers, each a varying degree of angry, tired, and drunk, Clara was relieved to have Tom and Stacy at her back. And then there was Eric, waiving to her from across the room.

  Tom put a hand on her shoulder. “If you need an out, look our way.” He said simply. “Stacy and I will think of something.”

  Clara nodded with a start, grateful for the offer. She wasn’t a POW, after all. She was, as far as anyone knew, a free and law abiding citizen of Saraya. It’s not like she owed him anything. Unless he asked to scan her ID. Then she was completely fucked.

  With a bright smile, she made her way towards Eric’s table, which was at least blissfully free of other people. The badge kept others at a distance. It always did. Feelingly oddly comforted, Clara sat across from him. He wasn’t actually a bad looking guy, if you looked past the exhaustion and the slightly greasy hair that was the hallmark of everyone on the station. His smooth tanned skin and warm brown eyes were not entirely unappealing. And he eyed her with open appreciation which, had he not been a man… Clara’s smile faltered slightly. “Rough day?” She asked.

  “Would have been rougher if it weren’t for you.” Eric admitted.

  “I owe you a drink.” Clara said

  “On me.” Eric said with a grin, making a small gesture with his hand. The waiter was there in an instant. Cops were good friends to have. “What’ll you have?” He asked.

  “Uh. Whatever you’re having.”

  A few minutes later, she was sipping a surprisingly adequate beer, the taste of the beer effectively masking the taste Sarayan filters imparted on the liquid passing through.

  “It’s been crazy.” Eric admitted. “The Tundrans have been stirring things up. More so than usual. Makes you wonder what they have planned.” He winced slightly, taking a sip of his beer. “Glad you’re here and all, but I’d be looking to get back home if I had the option.”

  “You think they might attack the station?” Clara asked, taking another sip of her beer.

  “Why else would they be so active?” Eric asked grimly. He gave a self deprecating shrug, softening his next words. “We’ll be lucky to make it through the night.” He said, reaching his hand out and placing it somewhat possessively over hers.

  Clara started at the touch, not quite able to still her natural instincts.

  “Are you all right?” He asked, seemingly genuinely concerned.

  “Sorry I…” Clara paused. “It’s been a while.” She admitted.

  “Have another beer.” Eric suggested. And just like that, another beer appeared at her elbow. With barely a hesitation, Clara drank the beer. It could only help. “Why do you think they do it?” She asked, suddenly genuinely curious to hear what he would say.

  “Attack us?” Eric shrugged. “Tundran war mongering scum, right?”

  “Sure.” Clara agreed, raising an eyebrow slightly. “What better explanation could there be?”

  “You’re a funny one, Clara.” Eric said, studying her closely. “How’d you know to step up when you did?”

  Clara blinked. One and a half beers in, the truth came a bit easier than it should have. “You can’t let the crowd win.” She said, with barely a thought. “The badge only works as long as people believe in it.”

  “That sounds like cop talk.” Eric said, looking at her curiously.

  “My dad was a cop.” Clara said, looking down at her beer.

  “Which precinct?” Eric asked immediately.

  Clara sighed. Of course, he would ask that. “None of your damn business.” She said.

  “Just how much trouble are you in, Clara?” Eric asked, his sharp brown eyes studying her closely.

  So. It had not escaped his notice that she distracted him from scanning everyone’s IDs. Clara nodded in resignation. Eric was a good cop. That was why he stood against a raging crowd, short of resources, exhausted, and still trying to do his job.

  “Saraya…” she paused. “Saraya can be a difficult place to live, sometimes.” She said the words carefully, feeling him out. Tom had said the cops might be sympathetic to those who got into trouble for saying the wrong thing, for asking the wrong questions. Her only hope was that Tom was right, and Eric was the right sort of cop.

  Eric rubbed the back of his head, leaning back precariously on his rickety barstool. “I guess it can be. At times. True of most places, I expect.” He said noncommittally.

  Clara thought about the movies Henry showed them. The government going after all those people, their friends, their families. Some guilty, some innocent to varying degrees. “Sometimes, it’s hard being a cop.” She said out loud. “Some of us go into it to protect people and somehow it all gets… complicated.”

  “Us?” Eric asked, raising an eyebrow of his own.

  “Them.” Clara corrected herself automatically, pushing away the second empty beer.

  “You know what you do when it gets complicated?” Eric asked.

  “What?”

  “You do the job.”

  “You do the job.” Clara echoed. A third beer suddenly appeared at her elbow. She was so thirsty. Hungry as well, but somehow it seemed less important. She drank the beer. The metal covered surfaces of the station were starting to blur slightly. She looked up blearily to see Tom coming into her view.

  Tom held out a sealed container with a thick filter on top.

  Water, Clara realized.

  “Thought you might want some of this.” Tom offered, ignoring Eric.

  Clara thought about the taste of filtered Sarayan water. Eric’s hand was still resting on hers, his warm fingers moving up her arm. “I’m good.” She said to Tom. “You and Stacy should head on back. It’s been a long day.”

  Tom hesitated once again but Clara turned away, ignoring him entirely. There was no way for him to remain without drawing further attention. She watched as Tom walked away, taking Stacy back to their overcrowded table but still keeping an eye on her. Just for a brief second, she allowed herself to scan the rest of the room, crowded with people talking, flirting, arguing and laughing. She paused with a frown. Four tables down from her and two across from Tom, James’s icy gray eyes looked back at her. The damn bastard wouldn’t even trust her to handle this on her own. Of course, she wasn’t alone. She had backup. If she needed it. But she didn’t need it. Meeting James’s eyes she shook her head slightly, before turning back to Eric.

  “Ready to go?” She asked with a smile. In the end, they all did their jobs.