Chapter 16

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Jenny Waterson's stomach growled, placing her previous anger at Stuart and Galen's delays on hold as her thoughts turned to food. She had eaten little for eight hours; the food on-board the space craft, while packed with nutrients, tasted like cardboard.

Not that replicated food on Earth was any better.

She arrived at one of HJA's four self-service canteens, nestled in the eastern part of the station. The long room with enough space for eight hundred seated workers was divided up into several rows of black tables and white chairs. Jenny grabbed a tray and joined the shortest queue for dozens of silver-and-black replication machines along one wall.

Her order to the machine kept growing: beans on toast, with a side order of sausage, a chicken pot pie, two black coffees and three pieces of chocolate cake. She could eat twice that amount and it wouldn't matter; the replicator food was calorie controlled. Finding a quiet spot, she dropped into a seat. Her schedule was killing her. The work she could handle, but the exhaustion? Not so much. Actigen was the go-to drug of choice for other pilots, but it made Jenny nauseous to take it.

She barely paused between bites as she wolfed down her main meals and one piece of chocolate cake. She sipped on her coffee, hoping it would give her the energy to finish her shift. One last run to Sydney, then she could sleep. At least the journey from Sydney to Brisbane and her riverfront apartment would take only forty minutes by high-speed Maglev train. She would put her eight hours off to good use.

Stuart sauntered into the canteen and she felt her previous irritation with him return, but with food in her stomach it didn't feel as venomous. The man with chestnut-brown hair, blue eyes, and a face no genetic manipulation clinic had touched, spotted her and made his way over. Jenny had no such reservations about using the Glamour package. Sometimes a girl needed a little help.

She and Stuart had worked together as controllers in the docking station at Auckland, New Zealand. After a divorce and raising her only child, Jenny had enlisted at the Air and Space Control Academy to pursue her passion for flying. At fifty-five, she began her training as a pilot, having completed just four years as a controller. Stuart remained where he was, eventually being offered the role of Operations Overseer in Auckland. He'd worked in HJA for nearly ten years now.

'I see you found me then.' She glanced up as Stuart reached the table.

'Not hard in this place,' he said, holding up both thumbs where their chips—both identity and security—were located. 'Our very own tracking devices.' He sat down opposite her. 'What happened to your hair?'

Jenny brushed her fingers across the nape of her neck. 'I fancied a change.' With back-to-back shifts, she had no time for personal grooming.

'Looks good on you.'

She held up her hand. 'Stuart, just stop with the small talk, alright? I'm still pissed off with you.'

He raised a brow. 'I can't imagine why.' Several empty dishes sat on the table in front of her, most licked clean. Stuart eyed one plate with a piece of chocolate cake on it.

'Galen almost cost me my job, you asshole! I can't afford another time infraction.'

'Jesus, Jenny. Calm down.' Stuart glanced around and whispered, 'The cameras.'

Her eyes stopped on a single roving camera hovering over a group of trainees in one corner of the room. It turned around to look in their direction.

Jenny leaned forward. 'Do you know what Calypso Couriers said to me a month ago? That my job is on the line. Apparently, Charles Deighton is looking closely at the budget and pilots of a certain age. I knew the risks when I reached Grade Four but now, it feels like I've got a target on my back. I can't take risks, Stuart. Not anymore.'

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