The Seeds of Time Read Free Page B

fine, damn if he didn’t. Big brown puppy eyes, a sculpted face saved from drop-dead beauty by a nose broken once too often. Still, a handsome dog, and always ready to jump her.
    “I’m going to bed, Teeg. See you tomorrow.”
    “Need any company?”
    “I meant sleep. Going to get some sleep.” She threw him a big smile, enough to cushion the refusal. Teeg was thin-skinned. She headed down to quarters, feeling Teeg’s eyes pull her clothes off as she walked. Truth was, she might like some company. Just not Harper Teeg.
    Then she noticed someone waiting for her. Shit. Timeco crew. The competition. Called himself Starfish Void in the quirky way of Divers.
    “Hi, Void,” Clio said, pumping up a smile.
    “Hey, Finn.” He scuttled to catch up with her as she strode down the corridor. “Heard you had a bad Dive.” He looked up at her, watching for a reaction. “Heard you lost crew. That right?”
    “That what you heard?” Clio shook her head, keeping the smile pasted on.
    “Heard you got five or six dead, that right?”
    “We might of had some trouble. Can’t say for sure.” She looked at him pointedly. “Wasn’t my shift.”
    Starfish looked hurt. “Don’t have to bite my head off, Finn. It’s all over station, anyhow.”
    Clio looked down at him, a full head shorter than she, fidgeting under her gaze. “Sorry, Void. I know you’re just worried about me.”
    “That’s right. I was worried. So you’re OK, then, huh? Dive fifty-six and still going strong I guess?”
    “Dive fifty-six already? Gee, I lost count. You keeping count, Void? Not nervous, are you? You’re up to what, thirty or so Dives?”
    “Thirty-two.”
    Clio peeled off to a connecting corridor, turned to wave him off. “You shouldn’t keep count, Starfish. It’s bad luck.” She turned on her heel and left him standing there, looking confused.
    Clio unclenched her teeth. Could have told him some juicy details, girl. Could have given him more than a brush-off. Might need a friend or two, come the hearing.
    Vandarthanan Station opened up before her as she walked, its giant circle containing a web of inner circles, connecting corridors—and a honeycomb of offices, labs, and crew quarters.
    Vanda Station was the new generation of station, catering to ultratech employees, used to the amenities. A scoured refuge from the Sickness gripping Earth. Clean air, a few green pockets, gyms, video centers, and for senior techs, family quarters. You could have sex with a coworker without a scratch test, that was how good the Vanda screening process was. You could drop in on VandaPet to visit the communal pets. Stroke a cat, release tension, lower blood pressure. If you got sick, even a cold, you went into Retreat with full sick leave, and if you recovered you went back to work, no stigma at all.
    But what Clio needed right now was a bed. She passeda cluster of space pilots in HQ Section, a great crossroad where a big spoke to the station’s inner rings joined the main corridor. The group, mostly men, stared at her as she passed.
    Clio knew what they were thinking: Not a real pilot. But paid three times what a space pilot gets. Even the young ones get premium pay. Eighteen-year-olds, some of them, paid like royalty. Then there’s Clio Finn. Thinks she’s the Queen of Sheba. Biotime thinks so too. Maybe the Crippen Dive will change all that.
    Clio smiled at them, at their guarded faces, pale above their green Recon uniforms. Be good, Clio, she told herself Don’t power up the rivalry. And watch your backside.
    One of the women nodded to her, a gesture of sisterhood. Don’t snub Clio Finn in front of the men. But Clio knew if she met that pilot in the station bar, she’d stare right past Clio, no mistake.
    She passed Quarantine Section, with its heavy doors, windowless walls. You could guess what lay within Quarantine Section: giant, exotic growths, the baobabs of other worlds; or delicate what-passed-for-ferns, or the merest alien fuzz in a