***

  Space habitat Heidelberg journeyed through the cosmos alongside the rest of the Solar System. Despite being moored at a Lagrange point -- prime celestial real estate -- it was still a mere speck, barely visible in the night sky.

  Adrian wadded through the bureaucracy of inter-Cluster policies while Matthias focused on his primary objective: delivering the illicit composite to the Technate. Officially, he was on standard leave -- a perfect alibi to visit his real employer -- but the challenge lay in clearing the station's numerous customs checkpoints. He was a sitting duck, pinned down until a Technate plant could secure a shift at the scanners. The delay was making him twitchy; the longer he waited, the more the operation risked falling apart.

  Something else gnawed at him: the investigation had been handed over to an external team dispatched by the German Cluster. To Matthias, the implication was clear -- management knew the incident was far from routine. Yet his professional intuition suggested something far more complex. He could sense the shadow of another party, or perhaps several, pulling the strings behind this strange act of sabotage.

  To quiet his thoughts, he sought out a local pub. Life in the habitats followed a familiar pattern -- a desperate attempt to mask the claustrophobia of living inside a colossal, rotated drum. From the office blocks to the galleries, every sector was a curated echo of old Earth, laid out with clinical logic. The Heidelberg had been built for a massive census, yet the actual population remained a fraction of that number. This disparity created a haunting sense of isolation, an emptiness that made the crowded bars near the professional sectors a necessity. Real human connection was a rare commodity -- something credits couldn't buy and no standard-issue allowance could provide.

  Matthias's best bet was the Welde Brauhaus -- a haunt favoured by his colleagues and the surrounding office crowds alike. It was a sanctuary where one could find a decent weiss, trade idle talk, and kill time, all within a ten-minute ride of his quarters.

  His frayed nerves had killed his hunger and his patience for small talk, leaving only a persistent constriction in his throat. Eschewing the crowd, Matthias grabbed a glass of the local weissbier and retreated to a free table in the bar's dimmed corner.

  He claimed a table intended for a small group of four, finding himself in a space struggling to replicate the soul of a terrestrial tavern. The pervasive, low-frequency thrum of the habitat's life-support systems was completely eliminated by low-volume music and the ambient chatter of the biergarten clients. The hop-shaped lamps, the heavy flooring, the dimmed lighting -- every element conspired to create a convincing, if fragile, sense of earthly safety.

  Only the beer mug served as a reminder of the sterile reality of the Heidelberg. Though styled like a traditional German stein, a faint indicator light pulsed near its rim, a constant reminder that even relaxation was governed by the safety protocols. It was a small masterpiece of safety engineering: a magnetic base stood ready to anchor the vessel to the table in the event of a gravity failure, and a spring-loaded lid was designed to seal instantly against zero-G spills. It was an ancient silhouette hollowed out and filled with cold, modern necessity.

  Matthias remained motionless, his gaze anchored to the dim green pulse at the base of the mug. He took periodic, mechanical sips of the beer, the flavour an afterthought to his focus. His mind was a frantic architecture of variables, calculating the exact window to slip the composite past the station's scanners. He was so deeply submerged in the tactical math that the sounds of the bar -- the laughter, the clinking mugs, the low music -- dissolved into white noise. He completely missed the shadow falling over the table, and the woman who had already come to a halt beside him.

  "Oh, hallo again!" she started, her voice breaking through his internal math. "We have met days ago in the transport cabin -- do you remember?"

  Matthias severed the flow of the calculations in his head and looked up at the intruder. She was exactly as he recalled: the short-cropped hair, the very pale skin. Her slate-gray eyes were catching the dim green glow from the base of his mug, reflecting the light like cold glass. He felt the weight of her scanning look -- a gaze that felt less like curiosity and more like an inspection.

  "Ah, yes... the days," he reacted, shifting slightly in his chair. "You are visiting our habitat for a first time, I think?"

  "Exactly. I am a newbie here," she said, her eyes were never leaving his. "Are you waiting for the company?"

  "No, no. I am chilling here alone today. You could join, by the way; it is a crowded place and the tables are rare."

  "Very thank you," Anni replied, taking the seat opposite him. "It feels... empty here. How many the inhabitants are living on the Heidelberg now?"

  She set her mug on the heavy table. It was a large, utilitarian vessel, the safety lid clicked firmly into the closed position.

  "About seven hundred thousand, give or take," Matthias replied, falling into the rhythm of the small talk. "But we are spread like the butter over the drum, so yes, I know the feeling of the emptiness."

  "Heh. Anyway, it is a way better than the Munster is right now," she said. She thumbed the release on her mug, the mechanical click sharp in the quiet corner, and took a measured sip.

  "I am sorry, but... your name is?" Matthias asked.

  "Anni Wyde. No worries, I did not know the your name either," she said, her lips pulling into a thin, sharp smile.

  "Matthias. Matthias Klein is the name. I am working here -- you know, the safety thing. And you?"

  He decided to switch off the line of his calculations and let his brain rest for a while. The small talk, he found, was a good way to unwind. The desired shift at the custom scanners was still two standard days away -- plenty of time to play the part of a man on leave.

  "Oh, about that... I am the cooling systems engineer," she replied, a small giggle escaping at the end. "But I am on my leave now, looking and enjoying the finished habitat. My own is not finished yet; they are still filling it with the stuff. But the cooling system core components are already in place, so I have the time to look around and enjoy the time I am having."

  She looked around the warm, dim room. "Still, there are no the crowded places like this one in there," she added with a smile.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Matthias found her voice a little low, but very calming and friendly -- something he realised he had missed in his rigid line of duty.

  "The Munster... it should be very similar in the planning to here," he noted. "But the filling stage... it must be quite boring to take the rest in there, yes?"

  Anni lowered her head, her voice taking on a mysterious, quiet quality. "The rest is only the sleep in there. It feels like the sleep with the machines working hard, with the drum pieces filling. Only the assembling crew is there now," she said, her voice dropping further. "Are you on the holidays? Or between the shifts, if I may ask you?"

  "Hmm, yes, you may. I am planning the next holidays; they are starting within the next standard days. When are yours finishing?"

  "Oh, these are the last eight standard days in here," she replied, a note of soreness in her tone. "The filling is at the final stage, which means the cooling systems require the review and more attention soon."

  "Understood. But it also means the Munster is going to be fully finished soon, right?"

  "If you mean that the hundreds of standard days is soon, then yes," she smiled, taking another measured sip from the heavy mug. "I do not want to waste the time talking about that. Are you visiting this place often?"

  "Oh, I think that it is true," he replied, nodding to the familiar surroundings.

  "Are there any other places to visit and relax that you could advice?" she asked, her voice returning to a normal volume.

  "Am... yes, a lot of them. Do you want the advices?" he asked.

  "Honestly speaking, I am wanting the company, too," Anni said, smiling with a sudden flash of hope. "Tomorrow?"

  "Okay. Let us meet here, the same time."

  They continued the small talk, their conversation adding to the liveable atmosphere of the pub. Their voices mixed with the others, dissolving into the earthly mood and the hum of the crowd, making them just two more souls lost in the vast, spinning drum of the Heidelberg.

  ***

  By the time Adrian finally untangled himself from the bureaucracy of the High Court, the streets of Rotterdam were already saturated with the cold glow of night lights. He had been handed a temporary disciplinary suspension -- a heavy blow that saw his access keys deactivated for two standard years. Along with the lockout, he'd been slapped with a twenty-thousand system credit fine. His permanent file was now officially enriched with a fresh violation; a minor case, perhaps, but it was a mark that wouldn't wash off.

  He had just stepped clear of the court building and was lighting a cigarette when Michael reached him again.

  "Adrian, it is the time to arrange the next discussion... but yes, take your time," Michael started. "I hope you are satisfied with the results, huh?"

  "Mmm. Twenty thousand credits... hardly call that satisfaction," Adrian replied, his voice flat.

  "It is not a big loss for you, my dear friend; do not be silly," Michael dismissed the concern with a wave.

  "But the blocked key..." Adrian pushed back.

  "Yes, but you will get way more keys and the data soon," Michael said, his tone turning friendly. "Could we speak in the my vehicle? This place might be heard, you know. And also, I could give you the ride wherever you are wanting to go."

  Adrian gave a silent nod. He finished his smoke, crushed the butt under his boot, and followed Michael to the waiting vehicle.

  "How many standard days are you needing between the assignments?" Michael asked as the doors hissed shut, sealing out the Rotterdam night.

  "Few... five days at least," Adrian said, his voice sounding tired. "And... I need to feed curiosity. What the hell is this HEI transmitter?"

  "Fair enough. The HEI transmitter is a piece of the Outer System technology we agreed to install on the our facilities. It is a highly integrated communication device with the amazing possibilities... but the full details await you. Five days, you said..." Michael smiled thinly.

  "Fair enough. Where we meet next time? Another fancy court?" Adrian asked.

  "I will send the copter. It will deliver you in the comfort directly to my office in Frankfurt am Main. Five standard days from now. Assignment official paperwork is already sent to the your terminal, as well as the compensation. So, do you need the ride?"

  "Indeed. Best hotel... with a bar and a sauna," Adrian specified. "Can you arrange comfortable copter for tomorrow morning? Lahti is destination."

  "Sure. By morning you are meaning..."

  "10:00 local time," Adrian cut him off.

  "Deal. Let us go find your hotel, but I cannot make the company for you today, sorry."

  "I did not ask for company. Had plenty company today," Adrian replied, looking out the tinted window. "Better to leave me in peace for a while."

  "Fair enough," Michael conceded.

  The vehicle remained stationary for a moment while the navigation searched the local offer; then, they began the journey in total silence.

  ***

  The glare of the hotel reception was a physical weight, a stark and clinical brilliance. The design was a study in aggressive contrast: snow-white floors against dark brown furniture, and yellow-veined marble walls that threw back sharp, clean reflections. The absence of any visible light sources only amplified the effect; the illumination seemed to bleed directly from the surfaces, creating a world that felt entirely too sterile.

  These colours, these lights -- it was the embodiment of everything Adrian found intolerable. To him, the lobby was a sign of the inevitable changes ahead, a visual reminder of the sacrifice he was making in his journey to uncover new unknowns. He was trading his comfort for access.

  The light was too much for his exhausted eyes, and he quickly abandoned the idea of visiting the lobby bar. He didn't have the energy to sit among the high-contrast furniture and reflect on the pivot his life had just taken through the agreement with Michael.

  "Adrian Porinen. Room booked... or should be," he said, his voice low and grating. It bothered him that a hotel this expensive still used humans for such a simple task; it felt like a deliberate, inefficient luxury for him.

  "Ah, yes. We have your reservation right here, Mr. Porinen. Room 55G1, at your service, sir," the service man replied, his smile a masterpiece of professional hospitality. "Do you have any baggage, sir? Any assistance required?"

  "Baggage... yes. I will care for that myself," Adrian replied, a tired smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It is all in the head, you know? Too fragile to trust to someone else."

  "A business trip, then?" the man asked, his tone remaining perfectly level.

  "No. Criminal business. You have very cosy court in this city," Adrian dead panned. "But do not worry, my criminal career ended without any chance to start. So, just tired traveller. Nothing more."

  The service man didn't flinch, his training holding firm. "It sounds as though it has been a very long day, sir. If you take the elevator to your right -- that is the most direct route to your room. Please, do not hesitate to call from the suite should you require anything further."

  "No. But I need few beers. Not your strong local ones, something light. And I do not want interruption until morning. No extra things," Adrian finalised, already turning toward the elevators.

  Adrian moved toward the elevator, squinting to shield his eyes from the relentless, expensive glare of the hallway. The hotel was one of the highest-ranking facilities in Rotterdam, its materials screaming of wealth and luxury, yet Adrian found none of it comfortable. To him, the ostentation felt like a premonition -- a reflection of the heavy, uncertain assignment he'd just accepted from Michael.

  He found his room easily, and to his surprise, the interior did not continue the sterile hostility of the lobby. It was anchored in dark, warm tones; a mixture of soft fabrics and solid surfaces that finally allowed his nerves to settle. Still, his first act was to reach for the controls and dim the lights even further.

  His order arrived almost immediately. The sauna was already humming, radiating a dry, expectant heat -- perfectly prepared for his arrival. Adrian uncapped a bottle and poured the contents into a glass. He stayed still for a moment, concentrating on the play of carbonation. He watched the steady stream of CO2 bubbles rising from the bottom, listening to the faint, rhythmic popping as they reached the surface.

  "Well... to new heights, clumsy criminal Adrian," he said aloud, his voice raspy in the quiet suite. He raised the glass to the empty room and drank.