The Clock Winked (The Sagittan Chronicles Book 2) by Ariele Sieling Read Free Book Online

Zebigular exclaimed. “We must not talk of
them. They are dangerous and have many, many ears.”
    “Two per head,” Salve said lightly, trying to make a joke.
    “Oh no, some have only one, and others none at all. And some
have more than two, perhaps even a necklace of these things. But I will say no
more. It is time for you to have a good day.” Mr. Zebigular reached out and
pulled the cup of tea from Salve’s fingers. “You write nothing about them,
think only about good.”
    “A necklace of ears?” Salve asked
curiously. “Could you maybe elaborate?”
    “No, no, no!” replied the old gentleman emphatically. “These
are things that are not discussed. It is time to have a good day now.” He
escorted Salve to the door. “Have a good day now.”
    Salve found himself staring at the mostly cement and largely
graffittied portion of South Pomegranate City. He heard, “have a good day now,”
from behind him and then the door closed and the lights flicked off.
    “A necklace of ears?” he muttered, and made his way back
towards the nicer part of town.
    *****
    The staff stood in two neat rows stretching from the
aerobridge entrance to the end of the hallway. Their uniforms were starched
white and ironed stiff, and their backs held a ramrod
straight posture which Samson considered slightly ridiculous, but entirely
necessary for the lower staff. Only three engineers were permitted to miss the
arrival of Chair Rizinski, and only because Rule 195 of the Station Charter
stated that three sober and wakeful engineers must be present in the pilot
chamber at all times.
    Samson straightened his jacket and clasped his hands behind
his back as the entrance to the bridge opened, hissing as it let out the
pressurized air. A cloud of steam billowed into the hallway as Chair Rizinski
stepped from the tube. Three other people stood closely behind him.
    “Chair Rizinski,” Samson greeted him, reaching out his hand
to engage in the traditional hand gestures. “It’s a pleasure to have you on
board. I apologize for the steam in the aerobridge tube—we had a power surge
late last night and it took out the air conditioning in the tube and on the
ninth floor. The heat of the sun is causing the ice in our systems to steam.”
    “Not a problem, Mr. Lebron,” Chair Rizinski replied. He
glared at the rows of employees with two beady eyes and a unibrow which seemed
to have quite a stare of its own. “Nice looking crowd you’ve got here.”
    “Only the best of the best, sir,” Samson replied. “Come this
way.” He led the Chair down the hallway and into the main lounge area of the
station. A stripe of curved window stretched from floor to ceiling in a long
arc, like a crack in time. The sun glowed brightly at the bottom of one side
and glittering stars peered in from the other side. Dark, suede couches
littered the room, and large rugs had been placed carefully over the floor.
    “Don’t people get hurt when you lose gravity and these
couches start flying?” Chair Rizinski asked, looking around the room. He sat on
a couch, ignoring the gorgeous view through the window. Samson followed suit,
as did the three individuals accompanying the Chair.
    “Everything is chained down, of course,” Samson replied
smoothly. “We use locks made by Natham Oliphant, lock maker. To keep vandals from untying them.”
    “Vandals? You allow scoundrel class
on this vessel?”
    “Of course not!” Samson exclaimed.
“However, occasionally visitors who wish us harm sneak through our screening
process, and every so often someone who works here takes up a vendetta against the
organization. The persons we hire are only people. We apply every system
possible to prevent such people from coming on board.”
    “And how often do things like this occur?”
    “Perhaps once a year, if that. Have
a cup of coffee—Marge, please bring us a pot.”
    “Yessir.” Marge stepped out from
the lines of employees. They had followed Samson and Chair Rizinski into