Ch 1 P.4. The Birthday Party

Marle adjusted his cap and checked his buttons, then stepped into the jet. The packs sealed behind him, and the internal lighting came on. He watched the stat screen as the airlock sealed and vented. The outer hatch slid to the side as the jet rail extended beyond the edge. Space was before him; the Tin Can was a two-minute ride away.

Marle had to admit, the Tin Can looked like a tin can. He could see the levels, the external ribs, and the powerful motors at the top and bottom. The outer surface of the Core was complicated. He could see the striations where the artificial gravity engines separated the levels. He could see all the usual bells and whistles, but the directional lights of the gravity engines seemed ominous. He recalled Hera's words. “Remember. No metal near the floors.”

He had time to recall Hera's sudden appearance at the door of his cubicle. She wore off-hour jeans and a halter top; blue and red made her shine, but whether in jeans or a jump, she was just as beautiful and desirable. She held out a box and smiled. Marle could smell her perfume, a light spray of roses. He took the box, his hands near hers.

“What's this?” he asked.

Hera released the box, answering happily, “When I heard a wizard was joining our team, I ordered this for your upcoming birthday. I'd like you to wear it to your surprise birthday party.”

Marle turned and set the box on his bunk. He removed the lid and pulled out the cap; a puzzled smile on his face turned into a snort of amusement as he shook it out and placed it on his head. “Too funny,” he said. “I'd like to thank you personally after the party.”

Hera's smile never wavered. Her response was sure. “Perfect,” said she.

Marle backed out of the jet and stepped from the bay into the second level. The elevator music had been replaced by old rock turned easy listening. The crew waited at the door of the dining hub and cheered as he approached. The men and women of the Tin Can raised their beers in salute and yelled in unison, “Happy Birthday!” Someone called out, “Fifty. No return.”

Hera approached smiling and pressed a cold can into a waiting hand. She took his arm and led him into dining as the crew parted to make way. Marle noticed the station chief sitting at a back table. A dark-skinned woman sat next to him. She raised her can as Marle and Hera stopped at the big table. Rowan raised his can, but reluctantly.

The big table was filled with party snacks. Coolers on surrounding tables were stocked with beer cans with bright labels. “Sit,” said Hera. “We want to play a game.”

As the crew found chairs and sat close, Marle settled, sipped, and asked, “What kind of game?”

Hera sat close, pressing against him with a warm smile on her perfect face. She answered, “A memory game.”

“I want to go first,” said Steph, a hand above her head, and eagerness in her eyes. “What's the best way to cook the Gyromitra Esculenta morel?

“There is no best way,” answered Marle with a wink for Hera. “The false morel is poisonous.”

“Damn,” said Steph.

Tall, English, and casually professional, Joel Reed, the station engineer and astronaut, said, “I might have told you that.”

“After the fact,” argued Steph.

And so the evening went. Marle was grilled on many topics as the snacks were depleted and new beers opened. Marle had a winning streak of answers that entertained. Hera sat enticingly close, and he looked forward to the end of the party and time alone with a goddess. However, trouble is only a step away. Rowan came to the table, glowering and drunk. Cleo failed to guide him away. The laughter died sharply, and a silent anxiety fell over the party. Rowan pulled his arm from Cleo's grip, stumbled, and steadied himself. Marle rose to meet the station chief's glare.

“I have a question,” demanded Rowan.