Page 67 - Demo

We arrived at the door, and he pulled a card from a drawstring and slid it across the pad. It opened into what appeared to be a maintenance access tunnel. It had been a long time indeed since I had been asked to enter such a space. Such were the perks of privilege, I suppose. He lead me through dark and twisting paths, dimly lit by orange hazard lighting and the indicator lights of things far beyond my comprehension.
“So what is it you want?” I asked my captor.
“Well, right now, I’d like you to use those eyes of yours to open this door. You’ve got the whole range of clearance, as a class A and D citizen.” he replied, indicating a retinal scanner on the wall ahead of us. Oh. He’d taken us through the maintenance tunnels to avoid personnel to get to an escape pod. Lights flickered for a moment, before going red. Something wurbled over the intercoms, muted through the shielding.
“Quickly now. We’re preparing for station separation. If you don’t want to end up as red nutripaste I’d consider batting those class A eyes at that scanner.” he grinned.
“And if I don’t?” I inquired.
“Be my guest if you want to experience the mass driver.” was his response. “We’ll both die, won’t we? The maintenance tunnels aren’t inertially dampened?” “No, no. Costs too much for civilian transport. Need a military model for that kind
of thing. I’d say we’ve got about another minute before they fire the driver. Getting the folks seated, you know?” he said, as candid as ever. I thought for a moment. Who was this man? All of this, for a retiree? I looked towards the boltcaster, then up to his face. He smiled, encouragingly.
I scanned my eye. Two large bolts clicked free and the door was eaten as the gear’s teeth pulled it downard into their hungry mouths, revealing a pregnant darkness. My captor ushered me in.
The following minute passed relatively quickly, as I sat and contemplated my predicament. He slid about the inside of the pod, removing panels and messing with wiring. His fingers moved too quickly on the terminal for me to determine what he was doing. The caster hung loose off of a small strap on his coat as he moved about. Every