As a general rule, those parts of the station with more gravity were preferable (rental prices on the outer ring were murderous), and it often baffled visitors when they discovered the station’s administrative offices were here, in the weightless Spoke. For one thing, the TNA wanted to reserve the more valuable real estate for paying customers. The other reason was pure psychological dominance, though: visitors who came from places with gravity to meet with TNA officials in the Spoke were often disoriented, uncomfortable, and prone to vomiting – all of which worked against their attempts to negotiate from positions of strength. Some of the smarter diplomats and businessmen were rumored to train in zero-gravity before they came to talk to the CEO in her weightless wraparound dome at the very top of the spoke, up on level 500. (Having stars visible on all sides and above, as they were in her office, tended to disorient visitors from places where “up” and “down” were absolute rather than relative concepts, too.)

Callie wasn’t going all the way up top, though. She’d seen the CEO but never spoken to her. Most of her dealings happened at a lower level in a less business-oriented branch of the organization. She pushed off toward the center pole and snagged a passing handhold, letting the molded grip carry her up into the mid-300s, then pushed the release button. The handhold pistoned out, giving her a little shove toward her destination – and out of the way of people coming up beneath her. She spun and reached out for a rail, pulling herself into a corridor toward a door marked, modestly, “Security.”

The door (or the expert system running it) recognized her and opened without any need to buzz the intercom. Callie floated down the glossy white corridor toward the bright red door at the end. Then she turned left and went down a short hallway to the unmarked piece of wall that was actually the hidden door to the security chief’s office. There was nothing behind the red door but cameras and non-lethal automatic restraints – it was only there to provide a shiny lure to confuse invaders or terrorists.

The hidden door didn’t open automatically, though it scanned Callie too: someone could have potentially faked her bio-signature to get through the first door, after all. “May I help you?” the security AI asked. It had the cadences and tone of a bored teenage girl, a touch Callie had always appreciated: she’d been a bored teenage girl herself, once, and knew how dangerous they could be.

“Kalea Machedo here to see the chief.”