The view from the observation window was spectacular. Zeph had been on the Lift a handful of times, up and down, and the view still left him awestruck. This particular car was north-facing, with an expansive view of Walberg island and the surrounding ocean. They were nearly a hundred kilometers up, now, and the black sky above contrasted beautifully with the blue sea below. The curve of Strade was clearly visible.

The loudspeaker clicked, and then beeped softly, alerting the passengers of an announcement. Conversation quieted.

“Attention, passengers,” said a calm female voice. “Your attention, please. Acceleration to cruising speed will begin in 5 minutes. Please make your way to your seats and secure yourself and your belongings. Attendants will be available to assist you if needed. Again, acceleration will begin in 5 minutes…”

Zeph reluctantly pulled his gaze from the view and walked back to the bank of reclining chairs, where he found his. His traveling companion and new colleague, Victor Noss, was already seated. He was the steward of the Bedford Moy, Gavin Marks’ yacht, and was ostensibly Zeph’s immediate supervisor. The reality was that all of the crew were more or less equal in authority, and Victor’s only real responsibility over the rest of the crew was to compile a weekly report of crew morale and efficiency.

Zeph sat himself in his chair and secured the acceleration harness. The acceleration wouldn’t be extreme—effectively another gee for roughly 30 seconds—but it would be enough to triple their current velocity. Now that they were above most of the atmosphere, their cruising speed of 1500 kilometers per hour would get them to Blue Station in about 24 hours.

Geosynchronous orbit was always farther than Zeph expected.

“I suppose you’ve made this trip a time or two?” Zeph asked Victor. They hadn’t spoken much yet, mostly because Zeph had spent the first fifteen minutes of the trip glued to the observation window, watching the island dwindle below them.

Victor shrugged and laughed—high-pitched and rapid. “You might say that.” He cocked his head, almost bird-like. “You’ve been up the Lift a few times, yourself, I believe?”

Zeph nodded. “Yeah. I attended the university on Blue Station, and then was at the naval base for a term, on one of the j-drive maintenance teams.”

Victor smiled thinly. “Yes, that’s right. You enjoyed that?”

“Very much. I’ve always loved working on starship drives.”

Victor cocked his head again. “It’s good to love what you do. It’s such a pity, though, when it comes to an end abruptly.” He looked intently at Zeph for a moment, just long enough for Zeph to start to wonder what the comment meant, and then he laughed again. Zeph decided he was already tired of that laugh.

“I imagine we’ll be accelerating soon—” Victor started to say, and was immediately interrupted by the loudspeaker.

“Acceleration begins in one minute. Please move to your seats immediately. Failure to be in your seat during acceleration violates UIS law, and you could be fined or even forbidden to ride the Lift in the future. I repeat: acceleration begins in one minute…”

The announcement repeated three times, and then was replaced by a countdown from 10. Zeph glanced around and saw that everyone was in their seats. He closed his eyes and waited.

When the countdown reached 0, he felt himself suddenly pushed down into his seat. A gentle, but inexorable, pressure squeezed his chest and bound his arms and legs. It felt like someone was sitting on him. The experience was not new to him, but it held the same kind of fascination as a carnival ride.

Around the car, he heard gasps and cries as those who had never ridden the Lift before experienced 2 gees of sustained acceleration for the first time. He remembered his first time, and the disorientation and even panic as he realized how much more difficult it was to draw breath. There were moans from some of his neighbors as the thirty seconds dragged on. When the time finally elapsed, the pressure abruptly ceased and the speaker chimed again.

“Thank you for your patience. The acceleration phase is over, and we are currently traveling at one and a half times the speed of sound. We will arrive at Blue Station in a bit less than twenty-four hours. The condiment bars are now available, and the theater on the second floor of the car will be showing v-dramas every two hours. Thank you for riding the Lift.”

With a sigh, Zeph released the harness and stood up. Others were doing likewise, and some were already at the observation window. Zeph eyed the window regretfully, but decided he ought to spend some time getting to know Victor. They were going to be spending a lot of time together, after all.

“How did you come to work for Mr. Marks?” Asked Zeph.

Victor laughed his tittering giggle again, and said, “I’m a bit of a handyman, and made myself useful to the Secretary once or twice. After the purchase of his yacht, Mr Marks hired me to look after the ship and the crew. He appreciates my discretion.”

Zeph nodded, and glancing over at Victor realized the man was looking at him intently again. What in the world? “I can see how that might be a good attribute to have,” Zeph said slowly, trying to feel his way through this conversation. “Um, a handyman, then? You were the engineer originally?”

That laugh, again. “I was engineer, steward, and medic, originally. But Mr Marks decided that stewarding was where I truly excelled, and he wanted me to focus my talents. He’s trusted me to make sure his people, shall we say, stay out of trouble.”

Zeph was beginning to feel like Victor was hinting at something, but he had no idea what. “That makes sense,” he said, not entirely believing it. “I think I saw that Mr Marks has owned the Bedford Moy for something like ten years?”

“Eleven,” said Victor, cocking his head. “He’s taken very good care of it. He’s a very careful man.”

Zeph nodded, unsure what to say next.

Victor narrowed his eyes. “Very careful. He does not appreciate anything that might draw undue attention to himself or his coterie.”

Zeph pursed his lips. “That makes sense,” he said again.

“If any hint of a scandal, or an arrest, were to reach his ears, he might have second thoughts about employing that person.”

Zeph almost laughed. Did Victor actually think that Mr Marks was unaware of Zeph’s background? Or the police encounter earlier in the week? “Um, are you…trying to blackmail me, Victor?” He tried to say it jokingly, but couldn’t quite keep the incredulity from his voice.

Victor jerked as if slapped, and looked around quickly. He laughed again, gesturing dismissively. “All I’m saying,” he said quickly, and in a lower voice, “is that Mr Marks might view such hypothetical behaviors poorly. I’d hate to lose anyone on our team in such a way.”

Zeph squinted at Victor, gauging the tone of the conversation. “You do realize that Mr Marks is already aware of the events surrounding my discharge from the Navy, right? I was very open about it in our interview.”

Victor looked offended, and opened his mouth, perhaps ready to deny he every implied otherwise, but Zeph continued. “And when I called his office to follow up on the interview, I was very open about my arrest, and the misunderstanding—” he emphasized the word, heavily—“that led to it. I was told that Mr. Marks was aware of the situation, and sympathized with the injustice of my arrest, and that he was pleased to hear that I’d been found innocent.”

“I’m sure you misunderstood me—”

“I hope I did,” Zeph said, starting to feel his surprise and disbelief boiling away into a cold anger. “I hope I did, because the thought of working with someone who tried to blackmail me on my very first day does not fill me with confidence in their people skills. Imagine what Mr Marks would say about having such a person among his staff…”

Victor’s surprised expression transformed rapidly into an expression of disbelief, and anger, mirroring Zeph’s own. He squared his shoulders and stood to his full height, towering over Zeph. “You listen to me, Mr. Massey,” he said coldly. “I will not be lectured to by a…a…a neophyte like yourself. If I ever learn that you’ve attempted to turn Mr. Marks against me with your lies and your slander, I will do everything in my power to terminate your employment, and to make your life as uncomfortable as I possibly can!”

His voice had grown louder as he spoke, until he ended with a shout. People around them were staring. Zeph realized that he had handled the situation badly and held up his hands placatingly.

“Victor,” he said. “Mr. Noss. We’ve obviously gotten off on the wrong foot, here. I spoke out of turn. I clearly misunderstood your words and responded hastily, and I offer you my sincere apologies. May I buy you a drink? I’d appreciate hearing more about the yacht and my duties there.”

But Victor would not be placated. “Learn your place, Mr. Massey. And toe the line.” With that, he turned and stalked to the far side of the car.

Zeph was left looking back at the other passengers nearby, who were staring at him in distaste. Shrugging, he turned and walked to the observation window.

He might as well appreciate the view, since there was little about the rest of this trip that would be pleasant.