Eagle X, Mission 20: Quantum Bonds(Editing)

Part 6: Liam

"Mr. and Mrs. Theraphosa, your privacy booth is ready."

The attendant smiled as the couple rose from the waiting area seats.  His uniform was crisp and sleek.  On one shoulder was the Elements Services emblem,  the other read Earth Conglomerate, Communications Division.  Five feet from him was a pair of series 4 security constructs.  They scanned the crowd, weapons on standby.

"Mr. Theraphosa?"

"Yes."

"I will need to scan your federation chip.  I apologize for the inconvenience, but the entire grid is on a level 3 security alert."

"Level 3, is it something we should be worried about?"

The attendant leaned forward.

"I hear a group of transports were attacked by pirates."  He lowered his voice.  "Authorities don't want another Singapore Incident."

Mr. Theraphosa removed a pair of UniCard from his back pocket, and handed them to the man with an apologetic wince.

"It's our first time off world.  My wife and I are visiting her uncle."

"Wow.  Don't see a lot of these nowadays."  The attendant scanned both cards.  "You might consider getting chipped.  It makes security checks faster, and streamlines transactions."

He shook his datapad, and tapped the screen.  One of the security constructs noticed and took a few steps toward them.  His low-face scowled.

"Is everything okay, Gary?" the construct inquired.

"Yeah, West-22, my datapad was acting up.  Probably just time for a software update."  Gary, the attendant, returned the two UniCards, and gestured to the archway behind him.  "Sorry to hold you two up, go right in.  Cubicle F is on the left."

Mr. Theraphosa smiled and nodded.  He took his wife's hand and led her into the Elemental Services establishment.  The security construct watched them walk past with a stern expression, but he nodded when Mrs. Theraphsa waved.

"Software updates, Gary.  Fucking software updates..." the machine said as it moved back to its post.

The lighting inside Elemental Service's communications boutique was far dimmer than that of Capricorn Station propper.  The hall was silent, and the carpeting seemed to swallow the vibrations of their footfalls.  Together it all created a sense of privacy which was what Elemental Services was selling.  Gridports were notoriously public places with millions of people from all over the Federation of Galactic Governed crammed into a small city-sized space station.  With the prying eyes and ears of fellow space travellers, and the scrutiny of galactic governments it was nearly impossible to find a moment's peace.  For those willing to pay, companies like Elemental Services provided privacy booths and secure audio/video transmissions.

A second attendant, a large canamarian with imposing arms, stood in the doorway to Cubicle F.  He eyed the couple suspiciously as he stepped aside.

"The booth is yours for the next two hours.  Lavatories are down the hall.  Do not disturb our other patrons," he growled.  His expression softened as Mr. Theraphosa cringed at his tone.  "If you need anything, press the service button on the call panel."

The canamarian attendant left, and the cubicle door closed behind him.  The space was ten feet by ten feet with a display screen dominating one wall, and a couch taking up the opposite.  A chair hovered in the corner, its armrest housing the controls and call panel for the room.  The dark room brightened at the two stepped inside, and a prompt appeared on the screen.

"That was close," Mr. Theraphosa said as he dropped his duffel bag beside the chair.  He examined his UniCard.  "These scramblers seemed to work better when Renegade programmed them."