This story happens around Sol between the years 2501 to 2617. The last reference is 2850.
The abandoned space station hung in the silent vacuum between Saturn and Titan like a floating tombstone. Its empty shell was only memorable because of the phrase it carried with it: ‘Heaven’s Door’. The letters had been painted in fluorescent blocks six stories high and could be seen at a distance of 50 kilometers, smiling down on the surface of the small moon. The relic could be viewed most clearly by the wealthy as they arrived on the intersystem transport from the inner-worlds. It had therefore become a symbol for abandoning the disease and death and destruction of the older planets, and entering the wealth and eternal life of the outer-colonies.
Most people didn’t need a relic to tell them where they belonged; the planetary differences had become instinctual centuries ago.
William Floke knew where he belonged; on the plague rotted surface of Mars – but he sat in a bar on Titan anyway, five steps from the entrance. The holographic program serving up drinks could tell at a glance that Will didn’t belong in the outer worlds. His purple eyes, the gap in his front teeth, and even the way he held his empty glass were blaring signs. But the bartender wouldn’t be calling for back-up. She would let him pass through. Perhaps he was a sex seller – perhaps not.
Paul placed a fresh drink in front of Will, sitting on a chair in front of him to cut off the other patron’s view of his companion.
“I was told by Ace that it’s a woman this time,” William sighed. He sipped on the sweet liquor. “That always makes it a little easier.”
“It is a woman,” replied Paul. He handed Will a square of plastic which he quickly placed on top of his pupil. Reading the thin film, William nodded that he had received and understood the contents. Within ten seconds the blotch had dissolved into the fluid surrounding his eyeballs.
Will’s long blond hair was tinged at the temples with gray. It softened a face that had been hardened by ten difficult Martian revolves, twenty years Standard. “Is she an eternal or a terminal,” he asked.
Paul ran his right hand through his dark, thinning hair. “She’s an eternal.”
“Interesting.”
Paul leaned over the small table, getting close enough to feel Will’s breath on his face. “Is your bio-dot still working, Will?”
“Lifetime guarantee, Paul. You already know that.”
“How many of these dots are there now,” asked Paul.
“I was told, when I got the implant, that I was one of only three. And it was mentioned that I only received it because of a specific assignment.”
“Maybe this is that assignment.”
“Perhaps. They told me what to look for. I’ll have to wait and see.” Will looked down and away, uneasy talking about the subject even with his mentor. “Would you like a little sample then?”
“I could be talked into it,” nodded Paul discretely. …
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