#frontierstation

As I entered the passenger compartment of the shuttle that would be my safe space for the next few hours, I routinely scanned the other passengers. They were of no consequence to me, but still I had to be sure. The compartment was comprised of 12 seats on its walls, all equipped with Type C passenger security belts, manufactured by a frontier brand. Cheap, but functional, although I noticed strong signs of abrasion as I fastened mine. The middle of the compartment featured a standard recreational table with 6 additional seats. A quick glance led me to believe that at most 30 percent of the activities could be in working order, the rest was covered with a thick layer of metal dust, rendering the controls useless. There were three exits: The one I had just entered through, on the far left from my seating position, one on in the middle of the wall I was sitting next to, leading to an emergency airlock, as well as the lavatory and finally, the one directly to my right, leading to the escape pods and, at least through a maintenance hatch, connected to the bridge. In a T-3 class passenger shuttle like this, that hatchwas usually sealed shut, an inconvenience easily overcome by a modified Type 2 plasma cutter, like the one I was carrying in my knife, if you knew where to cut. I turned my attention back to exit 1, as the door opened and a seemingly young man entered, ducking his head through the hatch. The steward resealed the hatch while the man gazed at the passengers, just as I had done only minutes before. I quickly turned away, just slightly arching my back and looking just as slightly bored, before this piercing gaze hit me. Satisfied with his survey, the man sat down just where he had been standing, directly next to the hatch. With one seat still empty, we waited patently, knowing that without that missing passenger our voyage would not begin. The travel company would keep us waiting until that seat was filled by a paying passenger, as penalties would have to be payed for not complying with the Efficiency Act. Penalties that would be passed directly down to the crew by the company. Finally the last passenger arrived. He had to be about thirty years old, with long, black hair, almost as black as my own had been, before I had coloured it in an inconspicuous bright red. His clothes suggested that he should not have been able to afford the comfort of a T-3 shuttle, or at least its passenger compartment. He must have gotten a special deal or, for a reason unbeknownst to our fellow travellers, a sponsor. I noticed the man’s nervousness: His hands were shaking ever so slightly and his blood pressure was clearly elevated, at least to an observant eye such as the large man’s. The young man took the last seat and fastened, after some trouble, his security belt. As soon as that was accomplished, a vibration shook us and the engines started with a deafening roar. A stomach-churning sensation of being dropped let all passengers fall into silence, as the shuttle took a guided and boostedfree fall through the launch tube and the inertial dampeners were adjusted. A final rumble shook the ship when the launch thrusters were detached, then the shuttle fell into the silence of space. Our safety belts automatically released, which compelled the two children on board to jump to the table to stare through the now transparent ceiling into the vast abyss of empty space, shrieking with an excitement that would soon fade into boredom. I used this moment of communal distraction and left the compartment through exit 2. A quick glance through the semi transparent door made sure that no one had cared about or even noticed my departure. I entered the lavatory and stepped to the mirror. Keeping one eye on the door, I opened the smart mirror’s interface. I entered the prepared sequence and activated it. The interface turned to a calming red, vanished for a second and then reappeared, butthis time visible to my eye only. I activated the mirror’s scanning cycle, carefully redirecting the feed to myself and entered another sequence. In turn, my synthetic