Port Casper

Chapter Twelve

The following morning, Grace walked onto her patio. She looked out over Port Casper. There was a clear blue sky with slender white clouds near the distant hills. If she mentally removed the city, it didn't look that different from the ranch back home.

Grace looked across the sometimes Cartesian, sometimes twisted layout of the city. Port Casper united a bizarre amalgam of ancient city planning wrapped with modern infrastructure. The Frawley stood three kilometers from the spaceport. Some day she would climb aboard a cruiser and visit the Belt. On the other side of the port, about the same distance, sat ITB Headquarters.

Grace finished her morning cup of red rooibos tea and went inside.

She made one more pass in front of the mirror in her bedroom. All in its proper place, including her discrete dermal dot. The crossed tactical holster was standard ITB issue, but Ronnie and Jonnie's hardwood grips added a touch of individuality to the uniform. Grace wondered if it would make her stick out amongst her co-workers, then decided she didn't give a damn.

"Siegel-null-null-eins-sechs," she said.

The front door to the apartment opened and the lights dimmed. Somewhere within the walls, countermeasures activated. She had five seconds to walk out the door before the apartment would become uninviting, armed to LEMP whatever moved.

Grace left and followed the hallway toward the lift.

"Well, good morning, Ms. Donner." Martin Randgarten stood in the lift, his hands folded behind his back. "Pardon, me. I mean Protector Donner." He bowed his head in respect.

Grace put on a smile in return. She appreciated the remark, and thought it kind. She entered the lift and turned to face the closing doors, an obsolete custom which surely marked her as cloister-bred. She'd have to learn. The lift readout displayed EXPRESS as it descended.

"I'm heading to the carport myself," Martin continued. "A little building business, you know."

"Can I catch a transport at Parking Level One?" Grace asked. She knew full well she could, but it was the only thing she dredged up by way of chit-chat.

"Correct," said Martin. "Anywhere you need to go. First day at ITB, right?"

Grace shifted uneasily at the question. "Yes. Meeting the boss today."

When the doors opened, Martin gestured for Grace to exit first. Parking Level One was cavernous, echoing with the hum of lifts and transports. It was pleasantly cool this far below ground, and the earthy, stone smell reminded Grace of the cave she and Flora had once explored.

"Tell Protector Van Decker I said hello. Have a great first day!" Martin darted to another lift bank that took residents deeper into the parking levels.

Grace just smiled and nodded. She wondered if Martin's position afforded him access to personal data because of the number of ITB employees housed at the Frawley. She regretted not quizzing him further.

She followed the signs for transports. She knew that somewhere nearby, six-seat autonomous transports arrived, scanned her destination broadcast, and allowed her to board if the route didn't cause the arrival times of other passengers to deviate too much. A couple of dozen commuters from the Frawley piled out of other lifts and joined her. She wondered if any might work at ITB. She followed the crowd.

Her uniform afforded her at least a meter of space, which was more than other commuters got as they bumped and cut each other off for transports. Grace walked diagonally, and the personal bubble moved with her. From a handful, but not all, there were mumbles of, "Good morning, protector," in subdued, respectful voices.