Gordo twists the capstan and pulls open the reinforced door. It looks to be fifteen centimeters of reinforced steel.

“Come on, follow, it’s this way.”

Gordo walks in and I turn to Mars, she meets my eyes and nods.

Guess we´re going in.

“It’s not too far ahead, the database down here should hold the old facial recognition data. If any of your friends came or went from the station it’ll be recorded there.”

“Does the system record anything other than just whether they were here or not? Any statements or information? What names they used?” Mars asks.

“Sure, depends on how they were received but the database is connected to every system on the station and there are cameras all over the place, the footage should still be stored so you’ll have plenty to work with.”

Curious.

“A lot of surveillance for a touristic destination, isn’t it?”

“Oh, pre-collapse big wigs were obsessed with data. With the database, I could tell you all sorts of half-useless shit about everyone that’s ever come by the station: what food they prefer to buy, how much they score on an introversion-extroversion scale, a list of products, which nobody produces anymore, that they might be interested in buying.”

“You would think the system would start failing by now, so long it’s been in use.”

“It does break down, we just keep fixing it, there’s useful stuff among all the worthless trivia. Who do you talk to? Where do you spend the most time? Where were you at this or that time? We can figure it all out.”

“Why are you telling us this?”

“Oh, no reason, we’ll be working together so there’s no harm in sharing.”

Hah, more like he doesn’t expect us to last long enough to cause problems.

“We´re here.”

One last vault door opens and allows us into a large room, filled to the brim with computer systems. Over the center lie hundreds of rows of tower servers, to the side a wall of monitors displaying information, office cubicles over the back.

“It’s late and everyone will be home by now. We´ll have privacy.”

He enters the first cubicle.

“Here, just search for it like this…” Gordo.

“Just upload the photo? In what format?” Mars.

“… and now here we have the data points and up here the video recordings.” Gordo

“Right, right. Scroll with tab, right?” Mars.

I’m bored.

And Gordo is distracted. Now’s the time for reconnaissance.

The server setup is kind of fascinating, I’m not one for computer systems but this is fairly sophisticated by ship salvage standards. Some of these machines could be worth months of work sold to the right people. But I’m not looking for a paycheck, and certainly nothing so easy to find.

You see, I was born to a family of scavengers.

Mamá y Papá knew the trade, knew augments were the way to go for me and knew exactly which ones to get me: x-rays are used to see into a patient’s body but cannot see through metal, radio waves at the right conditions, however, can penetrate high-density objects and bounce back to a receptor. My second eyes, resting above my eyebrows, can emit and detect electromagnetic radiation such as radio.

There, embedded behind the wall and invisible to normal sight. I’ve seen that feedback before. Bad salvage but important for my work: It’s the processing center in charge of the attractors that simulate gravity in the station or at least this section of it.

Remove the facing and find the power supply, rig it without cutting power to the system. I’ve brought some tools and materials with me, a work habit that proves useful. Connect the burner phone and place it inside, close the facing securely. Done.

There and back, silent as the wind.

“So, the entire group left ten days later. Stated direction: none.” Says the soldier.

“Sure, but if you look in the notes: Armed and dangerous. Let slip destination is Earth, treat with care.”

“Just download the info into a thumb drive and take it, I’ll trust you with it.” As if he intends to let us leave the station with it.

“All right, we have everything. Thank you, Gordo.”

“No problem señorita, it’s my pleasure. Just a matter of the coordinates if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course, here you have it.” A second drive is retrieved from the folds of her suit. It holds fake coordinates which Gordo quickly checks. He’s smiling.

“Thank you for your business, let’s leave this dreary place so we can talk about our future collaboration! Please go ahead, I’ll close the door!”

How transparent.

The moment we cross the vault doors Gordo shuts it with a slam, as the metal slab closes our last look at him shows a devilishly satisfied look on his pale face.

Over the corridor resonate the sounds of multiple heavy steps, weapons cocking, my second eyes see radio chatter. This is his ambush.

“You know what to do, Mars. Just tell me when you want gravity off.”

She reaches towards her back and retrieves our insurance policy. Wires exposed and rough edges. It's visibly an improvised thing but the quality of the materials and their configuration belie the true danger of the weapon.

“Turn it off before they round the corner. Also, point towards Gordo.”

I look closely. He is not moving, very close to the door.

Really?

“He’s stuck his ear to the door, here.”

Before the man can react, electricity flows through the rails and generates a magnetic field that forces a round forward at supersonic speed.

The sabot detaches.

The dart impacts the door.

The plutonium 239 it´s made from releases its energy.

In an instant, fifteen centimeters of reinforced steel buckle as a superheated fifteen-gram penetrator carves through them and into Gordo.

The bang of the gun reverberates.

The footsteps ahead stop.

Silence.

A thump as his body hits the floor, the sizzling of flesh.

…

“Homemade, huh?”

“Funny!”