The door opened after several moments of knocking. Still unsteady and fresh from bed, Mac stuck his head out the front door to see who was there. His eyes were barely open despite it already being eight in the morning on a Thursday.
Chez made a face. He held two coffees and a bag of fresh bagels and waited impatiently out in the hall for Mac to move over and let him inside. Seeming to barely recognize him, Mac rubbed his face with his palm and squinted faintly. Finally, he groaned and shifted his body slightly from the doorway. This was deemed enough for Chez to slip in.
Chez shook his head and scolded Mac for not being up already. He brushed passed him into the entrance and froze. He stared confused at the apartment in disarray.
"Have you been robbed?"
Moving boxes were half-packed. Various stacks of books were on the floor. Clothes for every occasion were unfolded and tossed over chairs and other furniture. Appliances, some covered in bubble wrap and others not, were placed in or beside boxes. Nearly every surface was covered with the possessions of everyday life. Even the cabinets in the kitchen were thrown open and the contents of them left out.
Mac shut the door and went straight to the living room. He collapsed face first onto the sofa. His groan was muffled by the cushions, but Chez was confident he heard him say that he wished someone would rob him as it would save him the effort of packing.
Chez left the coffee and bagels on the kitchen counter and stared blank-faced at the disastrous interior with hands on hips, quietly judging him. After three weeks of packing, it seemed that this was the extent of Mac's moving efforts. Chez picked up a tennis racket from the table and asked, confused, why he didn't just send everything that held no sentimental value to the dump. Surely Mac's new estate would be equipped with all the everyday necessities.
Mac replied that he didn't want to sleep in the same bed, on the same linens, or eat off the same plates as 'that bastard'. In all honesty, though Shepard had sold him the place and everything inside it, Mac wanted to gut most of the interior and get rid of the majority of Lonny's belongings.
He'd kept the original staff and was planning to hire an interior designer next week to make the place new: less old money and overbearing, more modern and sleek. The estate felt too dark and stuffy and reminded Mac too much of its owner. But while all of that was being done, he wanted to have something to live on in the meantime. Hopefully most of the construction would happen while he was off-Earth, and he could just slip into his new home when he returned.
"Still, I thought you started packing weeks ago?" Chez handed him a coffee.
With a disgruntled groan, Mac admitted that everything Chez saw now were his and his landlady's efforts from yesterday. His landlady had offered to help, fancying herself a bit of an organizing consultant. After working together for several hours, she then left in the evening to go home and make dinner for her family. Mac had stayed up late to continue packing.
He opened his eyes and surveyed the room, wondering if perhaps she weren't more interested in going through people's stuff than in possessing a gift for organization. Perhaps after seeing how uninteresting his life was, she grew bored and left him to struggle alone, Chez suggested.
Mac sat up and said, even so, he was grateful for any help. He had intended to start packing earlier but quickly realized how much he hated it. Chez brought the bagels and the two of them had a picnic on the floor as the dining table was crowded. After they finished, they picked up where the landlady and Mac had left off yesterday.
"I thought rich people had assistants for this sort of thing." Chez mused aloud, preparing to bubble wrap a picture frame. The picture was from the award ceremony when Chez had won the ASME competition. Mac had been there and insisted the two of them grab a picture together. The competition was just after the two of them had become roommates. Mac looked excited and cheerful in the picture while Chez appeared stone-faced and rigid. The two of them seemed like the perfected example of a yin and yang friendship; opposite natures that somehow complemented each other.
Mac looked over his shoulder, wondering why Chez had suddenly become unresponsive. He smiled at the picture and said it was his favorite, recalling how nervous Chez had looked receiving his award. Chez defended himself by saying he wasn't comfortable in crowds.
While Mac was the type who flourished in a crowd and knew how to hold the attention of a room, inspiring others to adore and follow him, Chez was the background type; happy observing from the shadows and giving support in places that others overlooked.
The topic eventually turned to their upcoming trip to WAT's Station 2. Chez had been told stories for years about other off-Earthers, the colonists, and the interplanetary Coalition of Nations which made up the quasi-judicial body once you entered lower orbit. Mac was excited to finally show Chez everything he'd been talking about.
First thing they were doing, Mac told him, was grabbing a drink at the canteen on ISS-0, formally the International Space Station (ISS). Today it was more like an international checkpoint. It was the first port of entrance when entering space and was overseen by the CN (Coalition of Nations).
Load baring ships would need to dock, pass an inspection of their payload to ensure they carried no contraband, and pay import fees before continuing to their next destination. Passenger barring ships dropped off their passengers to be processed like at any other airport. After going through security, passengers would catch the next ship to their destination. Most passenger ships went to private space stations, or moon colonies, with the occasional passage to the newer Mars colonies.
The two of them would be traveling onboard a WAT cargo ship. While they waited for inspection, which usually took between a few hours to a few days, Mac planned to show him around SSI-0. They'd then make their way to WAT-01, more commonly referred to as Station 1.
This was the company's full time low earth orbit headquarters. It was predominately occupied by company employees and private contractors. Since fuel was an expensive commodity, Mac and other off-Earthers who worked for the company lived on the station. Private contractors kept the station's ecosystem running smoothly by providing services like restaurants, grocery stores, laundry services, healthcare, entertainment, and other lifestyle needs.
Six years ago, WAT's second station was established. It orbits the moon and acts as a sort of way station and trading post between colonist, with whom WAT does business, and other nearby stations. This was called Station 2 and was where Chez would ultimately be arriving to learn more about the project. As of now, Mac refused to give many details and even when pressed simply referred to it as confidential.
Once Chez had accepted that he was leaving Earth, he started considering many of the facets surrounding the space economy which had often intrigued him. Mystery still surrounded a lot of outer Earth development and the colonizing of the moon. Companies often pointed to trade secrets or their curated press releases when asked about their operations. As of now, much of what was seen in the media came from the CN and were promotional materials for life in the colonies.
Seemingly in response to mass immigration, which often led to crises in local housing markets, overcrowding, increased pressure on public services, and growing incidents of racial tensions, many governments encouraged immigrants to relocate to one of the moon's many colonies, offering to pay for their passage, coordinate job opportunities, and establish housing in exchange. Although living off-Earth had never appealed to him, Chez could see how many found its provocative lifestyle and new opportunities attractive.
Three months later, Chez finally found himself on the launch pad outside Moffett Field waiting with Mac for their contact to arrive. A scruffy muscular man in aviator sunglasses stepped off the ship's platform and headed towards them. As he neared, Chez was overwhelmed by his immense size. Standing at nearly 200 cm (6.7ft) and carrying a muscle weight of at least 150 kilos (300 lbs.), the man could have had a lucrative career as an NFL linebacker or rugby player had life turned out differently.
He greeted Mac with a handshake and said they'd be finished loading in another half hour. He offered to grab their gear and find a place mid-deck to secure it before takeoff. Mac stamped out his cigarette and handed over his duffle bag. The man put it over his shoulder and pointed to Chez.
"Gonna hold onto that, buddy?"
Chez looked at his suitcase. It was much larger than Mac's duffle, and he was suddenly convinced he looked like a tourist about to hop a flight to Europe, missing only the cargo pants and backpack. He attempted to explain that he planned to be gone a month, which was why it was so heavy, but he gave up mid explanation and said he didn't want to trouble the man. A white toothy smile spread across the man's face as he assured Chez that he'd be able to handle it no matter how many clothes Chez had packed.
As he relinquished his luggage, Mac made the introductions. The man's name was Syd, and he'd lived off-Earth since the age of eight after his parents immigrated to one of the moon colonies.
"Salone 7," he said with a touch of pride in his voice. Each of the moon colonies was named and numbered. His home was the 7th colony established on the moon, and it was hailed as a shining example of human ingenuity.
Growing up, his mom was a commissary kitchen chef and made "the best fried noodles on Salone 7". Syd remembered helping her run a food stand on the commercial strip in the evenings and said there was always a steady stream of regulars.
Syd's father had been a debris technician, collecting in low earth orbit (LEO) and had often been gone for several months at a time. Most of the debris collected was made up of metal fragments from defunct or decommissioned satellites, spent rocket stages, and other materials originating from man-made spacecrafts. But not always Syd laughed, recalling the time his father had brought back a wrench he'd found.
The role of debris technicians was important to the continued upkeep and health of the space economy as it prevented damage to spacecrafts and recycled collected materials. Large debris was broken down or cut into smaller pieces and transported by ship to one of several space station processing centers where it would be melted down and turned back into sheets of raw material.
However, much of the debris in orbit was small, less than 10 cm in size, making it too small for current tracking technology to pick up but still quite dangerous due to its high orbiting velocity. Many debris technicians scavenged for weeks to collect a large enough payload for the processing centers to accept. But with increased space activity and the rising cost of aluminum, titanium and other metals necessary in the construction and maintenance of spacecrafts, debris technicians could still make a decent living.
Syd seemed proud of his upbringing and chatted happily about his childhood. Eventually, someone shouted to him that they were all loaded and ready, and Syd excused himself to secure their luggage. He nodded to them and said he'd see them onboard.
Mac led the way to the flight deck. The ship had two large cargo decks attached to the main body. Each deck had 15 smaller cargo cells and were filled with heavy metal crates and shipping containers.
The main body of the ship, known as the cargo bay, consisted predominately of the propulsion system – fuel tanks, oxidizers, and various pumps and valves – and the ship's guidance system. The guidance system was mostly comprised of sophisticated sensors, radar, communication equipment, and computers, and was located next to the nose and in tandem with the flight deck.
The nose of the ship was separated into three main sections: the flight deck where the pilot and crew were stationed, the mid-deck where the living quarters were located, and the equipment bay where food and other resources for the flight were stored.
Each section was stacked on top of the other like floors of a building and connected by a simple lift, as it was a newer ship and came equipped with an artificial gravity system. Though the ship's gravity system functioned only for the nose, some of the newer passenger ships had it in the cargo bay as well.
Mac gave him a quick tour of the flight deck before ushering him towards a seat and demonstrating how to strap in for the takeoff. Chez nervously fastened himself into the seat, checking the straps twice to make sure they were secure. Mac chuckled beside him and the two other crew members smiled menacingly, assuring Chez that the ship hadn't had an accident all week. They laughed when Chez's face lost color.
Mac pretended to chide them, but he too was laughing. Once Syd came onboard, the cabin was sealed, and the crew sat alert preparing for flight. Syd took the pilot's chair and contacted Mission Control, letting them know they were ready for countdown.
"WAT Fleet – 0027 prepared for countdown." He radioed.
"Roger. Countdown initiated."
Then began a five-minute countdown as all the ground staff on the loading dock disappeared. Chez felt like he was on a roller-coaster, inching closer and closer towards the edge, preparing for the inevitable drop. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. For the third time, he checked to make sure he was properly strapped in, not caring if the others snickered or judged him for it. As Mission Control counted five seconds to launch, Chez took a deep breath and held it. Three. Two.
"One."