The tram ride to the Operations Center was mind-numbingly boring and disgustingly long. Music and their one and only radio host, Cleo, who operated out of a salvage barge that went to and from several of the colonies, rattled on about recent solar flares that could be affecting them daily with strange headaches and fevers. He almost had a headache now, but it was brought on by the sound of Cleo's voice. Ever since Cleo had been almost put out of a job by the recent colonies shutting down and moving back into more patrolled Syndicate space, he had taken up the more annoying job of reporting news if there was any of that in a backwater station. While most of the stations received their news directly from an interlink with the Syndicate, Cleo's station had been picked up by the younger generation and they had practically had a revolt on their hands when they had blocked it. Eventually, it wormed its way back in and replaced the elevator music.
Though he had never personally met the man; Oseser found it rather pathetic for a grown man to live by himself on a barge in the middle of space and complain about the galaxy around him. Cleo droned about the recent United Syndicate operations in the area, how there was news of agents slipping into the station unannounced and watching them, that there was a giant infestation of bugs known as the Rustera coming to kill them all. Anything else a deranged mind could think up. Nothing had ever bothered them this far out and nothing more than likely ever would. The station had simply been there too long.
This was an entire segment on how the station was handling their involvement in the Syndicate's new dictatorship, but Oseser had stopped listening. His eyes were drawn outside; the tram he was in was one of the few that had an almost complete view of the temporarily uninhabited desert planet the station orbited. If all continued to go as planned, Mother would be changing their entire view of the planet below them. Zulu-83 had once been the head of modern engineering, being the furthest station ever built and nearly entirely self-sustaining. Oseser found it ironic that the theory of self-reliance had never been truly tested before Zulu had made the decision to break away from the Syndicate for the first time. It hadn't been bad, but horrific.
He had never been for the rebellion, not even when he was still a child with his parents. Only a vague memory remained of his mother. She always talked excitedly, but she was near shrill at his father in his wish to separate from the Syndicate. Oseser jumped at the voice saying that he had arrived, ripping his eyes away from the beautiful scenery on the other side of thickened glass. A noise came as soon as the doors slid open to the Operations Center. It was an extremely large room, ultimately shaped like a doughnut, but instead of a hollow center, it had a desk. On every wall, that wasn't covered in ads or graffiti, there were trams going to every branch, petals of the station. There were a good hundred people talking, laughing or running to their respective elevators for work or school. Several people filled the one he vacated as he headed toward the massive desk in the center of the room. Though this seemed like a lot of people in one place- for a station of this size... it was a fraction of the people who had once been there. As the pedals of the station shut down, they fled to the center or the remainder of the pedals.
His shoes clicked on the floor; which despite its many years of foot traffic was as clear as the day they had assembled the station and completely transparent besides supports. Below the floor was a view into the funnel-shaped interior of the station. Starships, transports and salvage barges of all sorts of sizes floated through the funnel back out into space while others hooked up to the sides for maintenance or more supplies. This station was one of the few that were strictly human-inhabited only- and traffickers and explorers were forced to stop there because of its location, even if there wasn't enough staff to meet the numbers who needed it. That alone had made people go elsewhere.
Escalators lead up from Intake & Processing to Operations. The station was broken into seven sectors that circled all around the funnel-like pinwheel. Reflective surfaces on the front of the station's petals were all specialized light-gathering panels that accounted for more than two-thirds of the energy on the station. The other half was generated from one of the sectors that all connected to the Operations Center. It was hoped that people would come back to the station to trade, and so their staff would slowly increase again with or without the Syndicate's involvement.
Unfortunately, that was yet to be seen. Many were still fearful of the Syndicate's wrath to barter with a station that had already rebelled once, and rumors had never stopped discussing a second coming. There were also the select few who wished nothing but harm on the station and its inhabitants. Oseser's eyes cut across to one of the elevators that had been shut down temporarily. Red tape blocked it from people's usage and the glass doors showed the burnt skid marks of an elevator that had been disconnected from its line. Of course, the common public had been told it had been an accident but the rumors had continued to circulate. The Rabid had a hand in the murder of four people who had been unlucky enough to be riding the elevator that day. Oseser, because of his clearance and standing amongst the council as lead floor manager for the M.O.T.H.E.R project, knew that was the hard truth of the matter.
Some of the more religious types whispered that it was Mother demanding respect from them and they should turn their eyes to her in these hard times. Others said it was the Rabid's way of telling them that Mother was being viewed as a false god, and this was their retribution for it. Neither idea had any supportive evidence and thus the council dismissed them entirely whenever brought up. Oseser scratched out a note on the back of the paper attached to his clipboard for MiKy'el to busy himself cleaning off the message and perhaps a derogatory remark in his file for not having done it sooner. They hardly needed rumors of that getting back to the UF for them to send an investiga- support team.
If they had been lucky enough to receive any visitors, the first person they would come to meet was a cake of a woman; who sat at the desk that was painted golden that matched the elevators, trams, and trim of the room around them leading up to the top of the Operations. The rest of the room was painted in a lovely white gold to contrast its brightness. The desk had monitors behind the counter's lip for only the woman to see. Images flickered past inside every room and hallway around Operations, acting as a security hub for this room as well now the responsibility of vigilance was not solely on their security force. She also was the switchboard operator and mass secretary. How the woman managed, he would never know- and it was the reason she had stayed in her position so long. It was also unfortunate that the one elevator that had been tampered with was one of the very few that didn't have a camera assigned to it. Oseser had found that odd, but the chief of security, Beltha Jeldin, had promptly told him to keep his nose out of her area since she didn't make comments on how he was running his side of the station. Not that she had the authority- they were equals in the eyes of the Syndicate.
Hundreds of people were flashing ID cards to the front of their elevator or tram doors that scanned them and let them through. Even if they weren't high-level employees, they were still required to do this now. If they hadn't been scanned, he wondered if the people in the elevator that had been killed by the Rabid would have been identified at all. It helped keep track of all the personnel on the station in case of an emergency. If a situation ever did arise, that system alone would have a complete roster of who was in what section of the station at any given moment. It was an absolute marvel at some of the things that happened on the station so far; but the only thing the extra added security had done so far was ruin eight marriages since it was installed. He walked up to the desk, tapping it lightly with his knuckles for the woman to turn around, "You called, Vanilea?"
The woman looked up at him with a warm smile, "Good morning, Doctor Oseser! It's a pleasure to see you up and about to so early." Oseser raised an eyebrow, checking his watch to see that it was almost six, and realized he had been working through the night again. Vanilea continued on, gathering packages that had his name on them. She was a very pale individual, and he couldn't help but think again how her parents must have had a very sick sense of humor. Her lips were bright pink and contrasted with her pale blond hair that came off her head in waterfalls on both sides of her wide shoulders. Her make-up was in the tone of pink, orange and red; so much that he resisted the thought of her being one giant strawberry. Despite her alarming make-up and talkative nature- he didn't mind Vanilea. Her polite and cheery personality never seemed to falter around him as many people's did; either out of fear or respect for being the floor manager to Mother or-. "-Also your new assistant is here! I'm surprised she isn't following you now, Sir."
He blinked back to the conversation she was having without him, "Pardon? What new assistant?" Oseser's face heated a little. He was supposed to know everything about what was going on with the station. There was a flicker of surprise on Vanilea's face, but she hid it well a moment later. Oseser glanced around them, as if to see a familiar face coming toward them but saw none that were even bothering to look in their direction. Oseser turned back to Vanilea, "When did he start?"
"She, Sir. Started just this morning! Very polite, mind you, I think you'll like her. Her name is Anicus Hiadria. I shouldn't say assistant since she's being assigned to Mother as the second floor manager but we all know you train them all." She grinned at him, "She's a colonist too! I do hope Umass is enjoying her transfer, it was so sudden though! I know I never spoke with Umass all that much but-." He stopped listening to her again, gathering his packages that she had put onto a small pile in front of him with a bit of a huff. Of course, the council had assigned him another second floor manager and released the story that Umass had been transferred. It was better than announcing to the entire station that a floor manager for the M.O.T.H.E.R project had been daft enough to sell secrets to the Rabid. That his own second would be the reason for four murders. Disgraceful. If all was proven in Umass' favor, then she would indeed be transferred out. If not... well, there were always alternatives.
"-Thank you, Vanilea. Was there anything else I should know?" He sighed through his nose and Vanilea thought for a moment.
She jumped nearly out of her seat a moment later, "Oh! I called you in the first place to let you know the Council had moved up the meeting time. It's now at seven today instead of nine. Would you like me to get you an itinerary?"
Oseser shook his head slightly, "Unless it's changed from the last one they sent me, no. It's sudden that they moved up the meeting time... has something happened?"
Vanilea shook her head, "Not that I'm aware of, sir. Perhaps their meeting with Earth ended sooner than expected? They've been keeping it short and sweet lately in their messages. But the Syndicate has never been much of a talkative bunch." She laughed and stacked one last tiny box on top of his pile in his straining arms. "I hope you like your new second, Doctor. I see you two getting along very well." With a wink, she went back to work and Oseser snorted. Somehow he completely doubted that this one would last either.
He knew every single doctorate graduate on this station and the name Anicus Hiadria was not among them. Not only had the Council completely ignored his list of who he thought would be a good match- but brought in an outsider. This woman better not be some sort of freak of nature alien either that the Syndicate was full of. The original stations were built by humans, and should thus remain in the control of humans. Oseser grew redder in his cheeks at the thought of himself having to baby-sit an alien he couldn't refuse, or worse, one of the Councilman's daughters. How did they expect him to meet his quotas if he had to drag some barely legal adult around by the nose? Oseser shifted the packages slightly to write another note on the back of the paper on his clipboard. He would definitely bring up this complaint at the meeting today to inform him of new partners. He had just gotten rid of the last one!
With less than an hour until he was in said meeting, he hurried to a group of teenagers standing by the elevators to the residential district. They all had silver sashes around their belts and vest with the Station's emblem on the back. Carriers were an important part of the station's functionality and he had used a fair few of them in his time. Oseser whistled for one and a lanky redhead trotted up to him. "Can I help ya, Doc?" He was possibly about fifteen or sixteen years old with dark eyes that seemed rather bored.
"Take these up to my apartment. Leave them in the dropbox outside. Residential Level 33, Apartment D." The carrier nodded, taking the stack of boxes from him with much stronger arms and headed toward the residential district. The sash around the boy's waist would allow him to have access to any part of the station to make his deliveries and the threading itself was coded to be a tracker. He watched the young man leave before turning toward a different tram across Operations, not worrying about payment until it was delivered- even then, it would be automatic.
He stepped into another tram to another completely different side of the station. This time he would be moving into the Administrative Section of the station, or Petal #3.
Mother, and several other but less important projects, were located in the Research and Engineering Facilities, or Petal #6.
Petal #1, continued the Security Hub and Residential District.
Petal #2 contained Maintenance for everything from desk lamps to starships, Life-support, hydroponics, and so on.
Petal #4 for shopping, local bars, and chapels.
Petal #5, 7 and 8 had all been sadly shut down for the time being due to the lack of ability to take care of it. It had once been extra room for visitors, storage, and more, but the upkeep outweighed the resources they had left to them. And thus, the elevators had been locked and the life support shut down.
Even with three fewer Petals to travel to, one could lose their mind with the monotony of stepping out of one elevator to move into another one to another, to another- and the trams were just as bad. Scanning his ID badge when prompted, he resisted rolling his eyes when it took a moment to accept him. Oseser turned to watch the outside again when he was inside the tram. A different point of view from the last time he had looked... His hands rested on the railing that acted like a bar across the main window. The clipboard rested under one hand to keep it from clattering to the ground.
The doors opened behind him to allow another passenger to step in as he got to another stop, but not his destination to the Council chambers. He didn't turn to greet the person who entered, and those who knew him would know better than to make small talk. There was a soft clearing of a throat and the doors shut. "I assume you're the doctor everyone has told me about?" The voice was female and clear; there was no hesitation in addressing him. Oseser turned immediately, stiffening at the sight of her. She was the one back in the office.
Questions popped into his head immediately. Where had she been since he had left her? Had she been moving her things into his office? Who had been discussing him with her? What right did she have to address him like this? He reigned in his thoughts; at least she wasn't the teenage girl or the alien he had imagined in his head for some reason. "And I assume that you're the new floor manager who has been assigned to the project."
There was a flicker of a smile across her features. Her clean-cut suit fit her well and her braids were pulled back by a hairband; absolutely within his dress regulations. They weren't exactly his, but he had to enforce them. She offered a hand to him, "Anicus Hiadria. It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Oseser." He glanced at it before taking her outstretched hand; he had never been one for formalities... or touching. Her handshake was not crushing, but certainly firm. His eyes flickered to the muscles in her arm underneath her suit; she moved more like a worker than someone who sat behind a desk.
"Doctor Mel'Jam Oseser. Oseser, to you. You will be my equal on the floor." After another moment they both let go of each other and Anicus nodded ever so slightly.
"Last names only?" She asked curiously, raising an eyebrow at him. Anicus turned to stand beside him, pressing a button to send them upwards again toward the very tip of this Petal. He hadn't asked her to do this, nor had told her what floor they were going to; so he assumed she knew about the meeting already. At least she was well informed about her appointments.
"No, I just prefer to go by my last name. It's easier." Not many could argue about the simplicity of calling someone by their last name. It was both formal and informal and since many people did not know how to pronounce his given name- let alone how to spell it- it rolled off the tongue. Oseser was simple enough, and an honorable family name as far as he was concerned. The Syndicate would never convince him otherwise.
"Fair enough." Anicus nodded, "Call me whatever you like. I apologize for not introducing myself at your office but I felt it would have been in poor taste so soon after your... previous second, was taken in for questioning... I can't say I've seen many people be fired by being arrested."
There was a snort of indignation from his side of the elevator, "If she had passed her questioning, or the council didn't have absolute proof that she had been giving away information, I highly doubt the Council would have sent a replacement so soon. Or does the Syndicate have people in line for this station?" He hadn't meant to say it in such a rude way, but it had rolled off his lips before he could stop them. "And if you're here, you know what she did."
Anicus didn't pause in her response, "I was under the impression that she would have been taken care of already. Either by you or Admin. Though I don't know if that was your fault or the Council's for not having her removed from office timely. Either way, what she did or didn't do, doesn't concern me." She cocked his head at him, crossing her arms to meet his attitude, "Just so we're clear, Doctor Oseser, I can go over my credentials if you like. If you have any doubts on whether I can handle the position, nonetheless, I'm fully aware of how sensitive this project is."
"Are you, Ms. Hiadria?" He said the words softly, "Do you have any idea what the M.O.T.H.E.R Project even is? Or did they just hand you a file that reads Top Secret across the top and blacked out the rest."
She made a point of sighing loudly, "I may not know what the project handles specifically, but whatever your opinions are of the Syndicate are- I am just here to do a job. I've got a family to take care of and goals to meet just like you. I'm here to help."
"The only help you can provide me, Ms. Hiadria, is lea-" The door opened, cutting him off as people stepped in and one held the door for them to leave. Oseser gestured in front of him as if demanding her to walk, eyes narrowed at her. "Lady's first." He said through gritted teeth and Anicus stepped out with a polite smile at the one who held the door open for them without another word.