From Europa with love

From Europa with love: Part V

FIVE

Kulcin stood outside his quarters with the palm of his hand resting on the bioPlate, waiting for the bay door to slip open before stepping in. "Bay close," he instructed and the entryway slid shut behind him.

It had been less than twenty-four hours since he last stood here but he calculated the time dilation at almost six days; that thought settling in as he dropped his pack to the floor. He began the tedious process of stripping out of his EMU, wrestling with its series of latches, O-seals, snaps and velcro, until the top section was down around his waist. Knowing the legs were more difficult, he sat on the edge of the berth and began to peel away the rest of his suit, finally kicking it free so he could relax in the white silky that covered his lean body from head to toe.

"Otto?"

"Yes, Kulcin."

"Keep me posted on the sample analysis."

"Anything in particular you are looking for?" Otto inquired.

"Evidence of marine life." he replied.

"These samples were collected from the surface, correct?"

"They were." Kulcin acknowledged.

"Affirmative."

His body leaned back onto the berth, exhausted and mentally drained. All he wanted was to sleep. "Otto, wake me in thirty minutes."

"Yes, Kulcin,"

He shut his eyes and was out cold.

"There is a house built out of stone. Wooden floors, walls and window sills. Tables and chairs worn by all the dust. This is a place where I don't feel alone. This is a place where I feel at home..."

The song, To Build a Home, by Cinematic Orchestra was Kulcin's wake-up track for as many years as he could remember, always shepherding him to consciousness, always providing a sense of renewal for him.

"It has been thirty minutes." Otto announced.

"I'm awake." he responded, then drew in a breath and exhaled slowly. He was lying there, staring up at the ceiling before pushing up from the bed.

"Is Belle in the cafe, Otto?"

"Yes."

His knees popped when he stood and every bone seemed to creak as he moved; the drawbacks of being back under a gravity boost. He stripped out of his silky and made his way to the washroom, the lights brightening as he entered and the prompter in the mirror scrolling personal messages, astral events and the crawl of market data RICs along the bottom. These were market RICs of Haven and PelCo, reminding him that it is they who employ him.

Cupping his hands beneath the faucet, he watched as the cold and oxygen rich water began to swirl and bead up under artificial gravity before taking in several gulps. Glancing in the mirror, he ran his fingers through his dark hair and away from his tired eyes. What he really needed was a steam rinse, but that would have to wait, so he opened the cabinet and dispensed tabs of cologne to pad under his armpits, where the heat from his body would release the fragrance over time. For now, he looked, and at least smelled, presentable.

Exiting the washroom, the lights dimmed blue as he walked to his closet and opened the doors. There, neatly organized into slightly tilted stacks, were sets of new clothes and footwear in the slots above, but he was a creature of habit, always reaching for the same things: the black thermal 'MARS One' vintage long-sleeved tee, black baggy crops and a pair of orange Merrell grips for his feet.