Transmigrant - Chapter 3
Copyright © 2024, 2025 Stephen B. Anthony
To keep Earth’s 24-hour rhythm on Mars, they added 39 minutes to the loneliest hour—2 a.m. to 3 a.m.—stretching it to 99 minutes. They call it Red Hour. Priorities, it seems, lean more toward indulgence than productivity.
—Katsu Niruku
CHAPTER 3
Kaylie and Estia meandered through the labyrinthine underbelly of Olympus Station, which contrasted with the sleek surfaces and orderly corridors above. Here, the air was thick with the mingling scents of fried oil, exotic spices, and the tang of metal. Holographic signs flickered; advertising everything from tech repairs to questionable pleasures. Kaylie tucked her hair into her hat, hoping it might add just a little anonymity. Estia followed suit.
“Are you sure about this place?” Estia asked, her voice barely above a whisper as they passed a group of maintenance workers who did nothing to mask their leering stares.
“I’m starving, and this is the best noodle joint on this side of Mars,” Kaylie replied with a sly grin. “Plus, we need to blend in, and what better place than somewhere people come to get lost in the crowd?”
Estia nodded, her eyes scanning the dimly lit passageway. “Lead the way, then.”
The noodle bar was a dive, a throwback to the wilder days of Martian colonization. Kaylie had never learned the name of the place, but she knew the owner was a short, thin Chinese man everyone called Cricket. The establishment was unassuming, tucked between a pawnshop and a rundown machinery depot. A simple holo-display of a steaming bowl marked its entrance, the soft blue light a stark contrast to the dim surroundings.
The low light inside the establishment revealed the booths tucked away in shadowed corners, and the bar itself comprised a long, grimy counter where various patrons hunched over steaming bowls. Kaylie and Estia slid into a booth shrouded in shadows, their backs to the wall, allowing them a clear view of the entrance.
To their right, a rowdy group of dusty red miners claimed the far corner of the room. Their laughter and boisterous tales of the day’s exploits echoed off the walls, infusing the place with a lively, if somewhat imposing, energy. Their protective gear, scuffed and worn with pride, hung loosely around their chairs, and every so often, one would raise a glass in salute to a particularly daring deed.
Scattered among the more isolated tables, freelance tech workers with tools spilling out of their belts sat hunched, working on VRDs as they tapped and swiped through holographic interfaces, occasionally slurping up noodles or sipping from steaming cups.
Near the worn counter, a pair of off-world traders in sleek suits whispered to each other, their eyes darting around, suspicious. Their clean, sharp outfits starkly contrasted with the gritty ambiance of the bar. With an air of discretion, they exchanged small, unmarked packages under the table, glancing up only to ensure their actions went unnoticed.
In the dimmest corners of the bar, shadowy figures kept to themselves, hoods drawn low and faces obscured. They sat back in their booths, eyes hidden but observant, taking in the room’s dynamics without revealing much about themselves. Their silent, watchful presence added a mysterious undertone to the atmosphere.
At the bar’s end, a couple of old-timers nursed drinks. Their weathered faces and tired eyes spoke of decades lived on or around Mars. Now and then, they exchanged muted words, reminiscing about the station’s early days with a nostalgic reverence that seemed to transcend the surrounding hubbub.
The noodle bar, with its flickering lights and the murmur of low conversations, felt like a microcosm of Mars itself: rough, ready, and clinging to life against the odds.
Kaylie caught the attention of the server, a robust man with a cybernetic eye that continuously scanned the room.
“Two of whatever is hot and comes with noodles,” Kaylie said, transferring a few digital credits.
The server nodded and turned away from them without a word.
As they waited, Estia surveyed the establishment, her analytical mind cataloging details. “Kaylie, how do you find these places?”
“Old habits,” Kaylie chuckled. “Plus, dives like this are where the real Mars lives and breathes. It’s not all tech and terraforming. This is where you find real people, especially people who might have transports off this rock.”
The server returned with two bowls, heaped with noodles over squares of soy protein, a handful of mixed vegetables, and, to Kaylie’s surprise, some honest-to-goodness bean sprouts.
“Looks great,” she said.
“Anything else I can get you?” the server asked, staring at her, the one unnatural eye not blinking.
“Know anyone with transport off Mars?”
“Memory is kind of fuzzy working long days like this,” he said.
Kaylie looked at him. He stared at her with his strange eye, as if expecting something.
“Oh,” she said. She transferred him a few more digital credits.
He frowned. “Nah, still not remembering much,” he said.
Kaylie doubled the payment.
The server smiled, revealing gaps between the teeth he had. “Over there.” He pointed.
In a shadowed booth at the edge of the noodle bar, a bearded man sat alone, his presence almost blending into the dim surroundings. His beard was thick and unkempt, streaks of grey running through the dark strands, hinting at middle age. It cascaded over his chest, giving him a rugged, almost wild appearance. His eyes, deep-set and watchful, scanned the room from beneath bushy eyebrows, missing nothing. He wore a weathered leather jacket that bore the marks and scuffs of many years, suggesting a life of frequent travel or outdoor activity. His hands, large and calloused, rested on the table, occasionally lifting a cup of steaming tea to his lips. Despite the buzz of the bar, he seemed enveloped in his own quiet world, exuding an air of solitude and mystery.
Kaylie slid onto the bench opposite him.
“Afternoon,” she said.
He gazed at her, assessing her, taking her in. But he said nothing, leaving tension between them.
“So, I’m looking for a way off Mars,” she said. “For two.”
“Did you try the spaceport?”
“Would I be here asking if I hadn’t?”
“That’s a fair point,” he said. “Where do you need to go?”
“Eden Station,” she said.
“Four thousand.”
It was an outrageous sum, and the look of shock on her face was apparent.
“If you’re looking for my help, it’s four thousand,” he repeated.
“I can do two.”
“Then I can get one of you out of here,” he said.
Kaylie debated it. She could send Estia along, and maybe she’d make it. She’d somehow become some kind of kung fu master since yesterday, so she was maybe more capable than Kaylie had thought. But, no, that wouldn’t work. She couldn’t leave Estia alone in her escape.
“Can you do three?” she asked.
“I can do three thousand,” he said. “With a tip of one thousand.”
“That’s still four thousand!”
“You noticed that, did ya?”
She resigned herself to it. What other choice did she have? It would strap her for cash, though. She only had about five thousand saved up. What would happen when it came time for other needs? Her parents, maybe. Yeah, they’d help her, no questions asked.
“Okay,” she relented. “When do we go?”
“Tonight, red hour. Here.”
“This place is closed at red hour.”
“We’ll meet out front,” he said.
Kaylie sighed, a mixture of relief and apprehension mingling in her chest as she considered the arrangement. “Tonight, red hour, then.”
“It’s two thousand up front. Two thousand when we leave,” he said.
She nodded and brought up the purchasing menu on her VRD. His online store was available as a nearby option, or so she assumed.
“Griffon Cole?”
He nodded.
Kaylie checked her bank, sighed, and transferred two thousand to him.
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight.”
She slid out of the booth, her eyes lingering on the bearded man for a moment longer, trying to decipher if she had just made a deal with a savior or a shark. He nodded. His expression was unreadable.
Kaylie walked back to the corner where Estia was sitting. “I’ve found us a ride.”
“Can we trust him?” Estia asked.
Kaylie shrugged, her gaze drifting back to the man. “As much as you can trust anyone who deals in desperate departures. But he’s our best shot.”
They spent the rest of their meal in silence, each lost in their thoughts, the noodles growing cold in their bowls. The atmosphere of the bar seemed to press in around them, a constant reminder of the gritty, lived-in reality of Mars. The upper levels, where government officials and corporate bigwigs lived their clean, risk-free lives, were a far cry from this place.
As they prepared to leave, Kaylie scanned the room again. The patrons were a mix of Mars’s underbelly—a couple of weary traders whose eyes flicked nervously to the digital displays showing fluctuating market prices, and a pair of musicians tuning their instruments for a night’s performance, hoping for generous tips in a place where generosity was as scarce as water.
She tossed a credstick on the table for the server, who nodded his thanks with a gap-toothed grin.
Outside, the streets of Olympus Station were filling with the evening crowd. Lights flickered on in the shops and stalls that lined the thoroughfare, selling everything from cheap electronics to recycled water. The air was thick with the scent of fried food and the tinny sound of music leaking from doorway speakers.
Kaylie was bleary-eyed by the time they were closing on red hour nearly eight hours later, although Estia seemed no worse for the time spent waiting. Kaylie reasoned it was the tension she’d been feeling as they moved from place to place. Before returning to the industrial complex where the noodle bar was now closed, they spent some time one level lower in agriculture.
They arrived back in the area shortly after one o’clock in the morning, local time. Observing the entrance to the restaurant, they lingered in the shadows, waiting for someone to emerge.
“So, we are almost an hour early?” Estia asked.
Kaylie nodded, motioning for silence as Cole appeared from across the way. He sat on the steps leading into the restaurant and lit up a cigar, blowing smoke rings into the recirculated air of Mars.
“Should we go meet him?” Estia asked.
“Just want to watch for a bit.”
They waited ten minutes before Kaylie got the courage to step into the causeway, but just as she did, she withdrew her foot. Three men were coming from the other direction. She backed into the shadows, watching.
The men approached Cole, appeared to have a brief conversation with him, and then separated, each moving to a darkened spot on the causeway. One returned the way they had come. A second blended into the shadows between the machinery depot and the noodle bar. The third headed directly toward them.
Then she saw it. The way the man walked, the out-of-date suit, the worn shoes. Kaylie caught her breath. It was Jim.
“That’s the man from Niruku,” Estia said in surprise.
Kaylie grabbed her friend’s hand and moved further back into the shadows, slipping behind a pair of dumpsters as they backed down the alleyway. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched him, presumably waiting for her to show. Her hands were clammy, and she could feel a cold sweat forming despite the warmth on this level. She felt a sense of betrayal, not just because Cole had given her up for Niruku, but also because she’d been dumb enough to trust him. It was as if she was betraying herself, let alone Estia.
Jim, meanwhile, passed the time nonchalantly, leaning against the building, waiting to capture her like she was a pawn on a chessboard for a game she didn’t really understand.
Kaylie put her hand to her chest, feeling the thump beneath her breast, and wondered if this was the same feeling an antelope had when coyotes were on the prowl.
“Give me the gun,” she whispered to Estia.
“Okay,” her friend said, handing over the pistol and magazine.
“Keep that,” Kaylie said, handing the magazine back.
“It’s no good without bullets.”
Kaylie looked horrified. “I’m not going to shoot someone!”
At least she hoped not. Putting the magazine in the pistol would make it too easy to do. Too easy to make a mistake from which she could not recover. A life-changing decision she knew she could not make. Human life was sacred. She couldn’t do it. But she could certainly brandish the weapon if needed. They did not need to know that it was a hollow threat.
She didn’t know what to do. Should they just sneak off now and try again later? Were her two thousand credits lost? Or should she watch and see what might play out? Losing two thousand was better than losing their lives, that was certain.
Time seemed to drag, during which she and Estia said nothing. Jim yawned loudly several times as they watched him. Something drew his attention five minutes before the red hour. He became alert, drawing a pistol from inside his suit jacket.
But he paid them no attention. It was something out in the street they could not see from this vantage point. But time went by, and nothing happened. Jim relaxed against the wall again, but Kaylie remained on edge, watching.
Ten minutes after two, Cole appeared at the corner where Jim was standing. They had a heated conversation that Kaylie couldn’t make out. She brought up her VRD and enhanced the audio where she was looking.
“You spooked them,” Jim said. “What did you say?”
“Nothing,” Cole said. “They are supposed to be here.”
He appeared to be agitated, while Jim showed no emotion.
“When do I get that money?”
“When we get the girls,” Jim said. “No girls. No money.”
“You promised fifty.”
“You promised you’d have the runaways,” Jim replied.
“Dammit, they are supposed to be here,” Cole complained.
“Then let’s wait a while.”
“Can’t,” Cole said. “I’ve gotta get these people to their shuttle.”
“Tell you what. You see them again, contact me right away,” Jim said. “But don’t waste my time again.”
Both men walked away along the main concourse and out of Kaylie’s sight. She moved up to the corner, peering around it to see that Jim had collected two companions. They headed straight to the central hub. Cole was ushering three other people through a service tunnel close to the restaurant. Two of them carried baggage.
“Travelers,” Kaylie hissed. “It wasn’t all a lie.”
They rushed to catch up with Cole and his travelers passing through the service door. The floor was a metal grate. Red lights shined up from below, illuminating the hallway with an eerie glow. They could see no one beyond the door, but they could hear faint footsteps receding away from them.
Kaylie moved as quickly as she dared, stopping to take off her shoes to quiet her footsteps. Estia did the same. They both carried their shoes, but the grating beneath their feet was unpleasant.
They traveled a long way, turning through multiple corridors in a labyrinth with many twists, turns, and branches. Kaylie didn’t understand the meaning of the labels on each corridor.
It didn’t take long for them to catch the traveling group, so they stayed back, out of sight of Cole, who was leading them along a path he seemed to know well. Eventually, the corridor ended at a door labeled Transport C. Kaylie pulled Estia into a small alcove and put their shoes back on as they watched.
“Okay, folks,” Cole said. “Shuttle is on the other side. Safe travels.” He opened the door, revealing a parked white shuttle. Passenger doors in the back of the shuttle were lifted like bird wings. The three travelers passed through the door, and it closed behind them.
Kaylie hissed under her breath. They were so close to freedom!
Cole walked back toward them. Kaylie and Estia huddled together in the alcove’s darkness, and Kaylie held the gun in her hand, waiting. But he walked right by them, whistling, as he moved back the way they had come.
Kaylie waited only a few seconds, and then, grabbing Estia’s hand, she ran back to the door where the shuttle had been, bursting out into the transport deck just in time to see the passenger doors closing. The co-pilot opened his door and climbed into the craft.
Moments later, Kaylie was knocking at his window.
He looked startled and then gave a pleasant smile, opening the door.
“They said there were two more. Lucky. You almost didn’t make it.”
He touched a button on his overhead panel, opening the passenger door again. Kaylie and Estia climbed aboard, sliding into the rear seat.
“Okay, folks,” the pilot said. “We’ve got everyone. Sorry for the delay.”
Thirty-five minutes later, the jump gate loomed in front of their shuttle. It spanned over two kilometers in diameter. A titanium superstructure formed the spaceward side of the ring, shielded from sunlight, constantly shrouded in darkness. Positioned toward the star, the sunward side of the ring collected power from two million large photovoltaic cells covering most of its surface. Thousands of electromagnets suspended inside the ring’s inner edge held a narrower ring of exotic matter in place.
A slender conduit extended from the jump gate, connecting it to the control station. This structure, managed by the fleet, served as a duty station for personnel responsible for opening wormholes to distant jump gates. The control kept track of the position, timing, and coordinates of all jump gates across the known galaxy, enabling them to establish wormholes between this gate and any other gate in various settled star systems.
The captain guided the small shuttle into position, about one kilometer from the jump gate, centered on the sunward side. They heard him speaking on the radio. “Sol-2 jump control, MSS Trott ready for jump to Chara-1.”
Seconds later, the station responded, “Trott, Sol-2 jump control. Your destination, Chara-1, is locked. Maintain position.”
Lights blinked rapidly around the ring as electromagnets cycled on and off, creating a clockwise motion for the exotic matter suspended inside the ring. It sped up as the lights blinked faster and faster until, eventually; it looked like they were all staying on constantly.
The open space transformed into rippling water. It extended away from the shuttle as if being sucked out by a black hole and rebounded swiftly, like a bubble about to burst into space. It rebounded a second time and flattened out, turning into a shimmering, opaque curtain.
“Trott, Sol-2 jump control. Jump ready. Proceed with caution.”
The shuttle moved forward. Nothing seemed to happen for a long time. Then, the entirety of space expanded in front of Kaylie’s vision, as if someone had slid a giant magnifying glass in front of her. The surrounding stars shifted red and spun. The compression of a billion years of the galaxy’s rotation occurred in one moment. Then a flash of white light shot out at her and formed into something resembling a fractal Mandelbrot set.
Following this, a sensation of falling ensued, accompanied by another fractal display, and then the stars spun in the opposite direction, shifting from red to blue. The magnification effect reversed, causing the galaxy to contract inward, while a distant black hole expanded, gradually occupying the entire sky. All colors vanished, replaced by the intense radiance of a white star on the opposing side.
The forward view darkened to accommodate the glare as the shuttle emerged from a different jump gate twenty-seven light years away. They faced the star Chara, formerly known as Beta Canum Venaticorum.
Chara, her home star, meant joy in some ancient language, and that’s exactly how she felt now. Kaylie knew that the first people who had come here long ago shared her feeling. The dazzling blue jewel of the planet Eden shone like a bright blue dot that grew as they approached over the next twenty minutes.
“Next stop, Eden Station,” their captain said.
Home!
It was nearly over.
Transmigrant is available at Amazon & Audible.