Spaceship Thrive (Thrive Space Colony Adventures Book 2)

by Ginger Booth

  “What, rape? Fighting back? Puking your guts out from radiation sickness?”

  Abel hastily shook his head. “Jules didn’t have radiation sickness –”

  “But I could have! Stop trying to treat me like a child!” Jules shouted on that last. “If you’re taking all our net worth to Denali, mister? I’m going too.”

  A few days later, Eli concluded his presentation to the entire Terraforming department to a standing ovation. His scientific peers almost filled the stadium seating at a modest lecture hall at Mahina University.

  He’d presented how he discovered that the soy proteins were not as complete as expected, and varied dependent on light treatments, star drive vs. Aloha sun.

  Dr. Conroy, Director of Terraforming, superior to all in the audience, rose and joined Eli at the podium. “A major achievement indeed, Eli.” Another polite round of applause. “I’ll open the floor to questions in a moment. But first, my question. Are you back from sabbatical yet?” The crowd chuckled.

  “Not yet,” Eli said. “I have the opportunity to visit Denali. What botanist could pass that up? It’s the chance of a lifetime.”

  Lighter applause from the plant contingent. But Dr. Conroy pressed, “You’ve already been on sabbatical a year, Eli. I’m going to have to give your lab to someone else.”

  “Understood. Any other questions? Yes?”

  “Loved your talk, Eli, but it was a little lacking in methods,” Carl critiqued. “How exactly did you measure the amino acid levels of your soy samples? You haven’t been around the past couple months, but we keep getting dragged off our work. The factories demand convenient protein tests.”

  That question earned wider applause – the urb scientists hated their basic research disrupted to support mundane engineering challenges. Eli suspected that was because they weren’t any good at it.

  “Spectrum analysis and reagents,” he replied.

  “You took a spectrum analyzer into orbit?” Marcus demanded. “That equipment is not cleared to leave the city.”

  Dr. Conroy still stood at Eli’s elbow, and intervened. “Marcus, this isn’t a disciplinary hearing. Please limit your questions to the science.”

  There were several. But it wasn’t long before Adele demanded, “Eli? I’ve heard rumors that you provided freshwater rice and fish for aquaponic farming on a space platform. I want to hear about that!”

  Dr. Conroy stepped in again. “Adele, again, that’s outside our scope today.”

  “Dr. Conroy, with respect, it’s also in violation of our guidelines on introducing agricultural species. What’s to keep those new varieties from propagating onto Sagamore? Or even Mahina!”

  God forbid anyone change agriculture on Mahina, Eli thought. “That was the intent, of course,” he said aloud. “That the rice and fish transfer to Sagamore. I expect the proposed base colony in Schuyler will also use them.”

  Dr. Conroy placed a hand over his face as though to forestall the oncoming headache. Fat chance of that.

  The room erupted in angry debate. The policy of Mahina Terraforming firmly prevented any release of landscape-level new species without proper testing. Their notion of proper testing included a quarantined biome, and decades.

  “I do not agree with that policy,” Eli attempted to assert over the babble.

  “Eli, you idiot!” Marcus yelled. “It’s not up to you!”

  “It isn’t up to you, either!” Eli retorted. “We need species diversity. We need to see varied plants, taste them, absorb their nutrients. This policy condemns the settlers to live in an ugly desert environment, eating an artificially constrained and inadequate diet. There is no reason to –”

  Conroy clicked off the presentation screen, and flipped on the bright lights for exit. “That will be all!” Conroy yelled above the hubbub. “No further questions! Back to work, everyone!”

  “But Director –!” several yelled.

  “Out!”

  Heart pounding, hands sweating, Eli gathered his briefcase together. Conroy stood guard, shooing away colleagues who attempted to keep arguing with Eli. Gradually the lecture hall drained.

  Eli blew out, and murmured, “Thank you for the opportunity to present. I trust this makes clear that the soy amino profile work was mine, not Bertram’s.”

  When they returned to Mahina Orbital, he found that Bertram had contacted the moon. He took sole credit for the soy discovery, and tried to use the important finding to cadge his way back to Mahina Actual.

  Sass refused him passage, of course. Dr. Conroy agreed to let Eli give this talk today to attempt to clear his name and establish clear ownership of his discovery.

  “Eli, Eli… Sit.” Dr. Conroy waved them into the front row. “How many regulations did you violate in order to produce this work?”

  Eli gulped. He couldn’t imagine how this would go well. But he couldn’t let Bertram steal credit for the greatest discovery of his life, could he? He’d already let Bertram take more credit than he was due on the scrubber trees, to try to escape exile to MO in the first place. That lie failed, and Eli lost credit for the scrubber trees forever. Until he teamed up with Sass, even the trees languished in a warehouse instead of out on the regolith, improving lives. The trees were being transplanted now.

  “More than one regulation,” he answered cautiously. “But Dr. Conroy, I submit that Terraforming does not have the moral right to limit the landscape genome so severely.”

  “The moral right,” Dr. Conroy echoed. The man was kind of an ass. But to lead bickering scientists was like herding dust motes, a thankless job. Conroy was good at it. “Who exactly do you think holds this ‘moral right,’ Eli? When we’re the ones charged with terraforming this moon?”

  Conroy meant the question to be inarguable. It would be ever so much easier for Eli to duck his head meekly and concede. “The settlers have that moral right, Director, not the urbs. And by settler law, nothing I’ve done is illegal.”

  “What? You can’t be serious, Eli!”

  “But I am serious. It’s their landscape. If I can persuade them to try purple cabbages, and –” Eli’s voice rose to continue over Conroy’s sputtering. “– And scrubber trees to beautify and clear the air –”

  “You risk environmental catastrophe!”

  “No risk, no reward!”

  At the raw rage in Eli’s voice, Conroy sat back, quiet for a moment. “Eli, Bertram did less than you to earn exile to Mahina Orbital.”

  “No, sir. Strictly speaking, he was exiled from the city. He could have chosen to live in a settler town, or the mines on the dark side. I do not recognize your right to imprison me on MO. If the settlers will take me.”

  “Eli…”

  “Dr. Conroy, look at Dr. Carruthers. Dr. Yang. Bertram. I’m not in their league yet, but I hope to get there. What do we have in common?”

  “You’re all exiles now.” Dr. Conroy sighed hugely. “And you’re among the greatest Mahina minds alive today. It’s a hard road you’re choosing, Eli.”

  “So don’t make me choose. Support my research. Let me have the tools and reagents I need. Let me talk to my peers openly about my work, and get their input –”

  “That would be chaos!”

  “Maybe you need more chaos. More risk-takers. Because this world is dying, sir. I can’t just sit back and play it safe. The risks are not unbearable.”

  “Landscape-scale soy crops, the base of our entire food supply?”

  Eli allowed, “I allow you that. Replacement soy needs to be done here, systematically, cautiously, thoroughly.”

  “And not by you,” Dr. Conroy breathed.

  Eli sighed explosively. “Not by me.”

  “I hoped you’d take your lab back. Lead the follow-through. Give up your Johnny Appleseed quest and take your place as a leader in the department. Mentor the next generation to continue your work.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’m not ready to do that yet. You don’t need to back me. Just please don’t block me.”

 
Dr. Conroy rose. “I won’t let you push me into a decision. Half a dozen of the audience are waiting out in the hall to accost me the second I emerge. And you as well.”

  Eli dolefully imagined running the gauntlet. Marcus especially had been a pain in his posterior since grad school, Adele an ex-girlfriend. Mahina Actual was a small town. Its scientific staff amounted to an inbred family feud.

  “Slip out the back,” Conroy advised. “Let me deal with them.”

  Surprised, Eli looked up. He slowly took to his feet.

  “Call me in a few days, Eli.”

  The Director headed up the aisle to face the music.

  Eli’s talk wasn’t exactly the triumph he’d hoped for. But he hadn’t been kicked off Mahina Actual’s scientific staff yet. And that was better than he had any reason to expect.

  “Can’t thank you enough for taking my Ask an Engineer question,” Copeland said, nervously shaking the visiting engineer’s hand. Darren Markley looked 10 years younger than Copeland, but was surely at least 10 years older.

  Copeland was over-awed, and desperate to make a good impression.

  “Oh, the pleasure was mine,” Markley assured him. “Intriguing problem. I’m dying for a tour!”

  With Kassidy’s flair helping to make their question sexy, Copeland landed Mahina’s foremost electromagnetic field specialist. Markley picked up Copeland’s scheme to strengthen the Thrive’s ESD field while they waited on the star drives at Hell’s Bells. But he recommended waiting on alterations until they returned. In order to overhaul the system, the old one would need to come offline for nearly a week. That was far too risky in space.

  Copeland’s shyness evaporated as Markley delighted in his ship. The ‘quick tour’ stretched over 2 hours. They even popped the bulkheads over the ventilation system. Copeland showed off the ‘bang plate’ he’d devised to make it a bit more bullet-proof to asteroids.

  “I’m tempted to move the whole damned fan system aft,” Copeland admitted. “But if the ESD upgrade is good enough, that’s a better solution.”

  “If my life depended on it?” Markley commented. “I’d do both. I was curious about the repeat failure and modeled the effect. It’s actually a design feature. The ESD field deflects rocks that might otherwise strike the bridge or forward cabins, and shunts them to hit the fans instead.”

  “Huh. Still a pain in the ass to repair, though,” Copeland pointed out. “You know how long it takes to print that main fan? Printed the whole damned thing twice this trip.”

  They chuckled.

  “How long until you leave for Denali?” Markley asked. “I hope we can get the ESD overhauled. Re-routing ventilation might have to wait for the trip.”

  “‘We’? Darren, I don’t know that we can pay you. That’s Sass and Abel’s department.” They paused earlier at the office to chat with management. Copeland’s discretionary budget was generous, but wouldn’t stretch to hire Markley.

  Markley perched on the cargo hold slide. “What do you think of becoming a professional engineer? Certified.”

  “Me?” Copeland snorted. “Only got an 8th grade education. Kid to support, job I like.”

  Markley frowned. “Only 8th grade, huh? That’s pretty limiting on the math. No algebra and geometry?”

  “No, I got those,” Copeland clarified. “I hit the books sometimes if I need math I ain’t got. Or formulate the question right, then ask someone to do the math for me. Like you with Ask an Engineer.”

  “You can study math on your own?” Markley probed.

  “I get to where I’m stuck on my own. Then ask for help.”

  “Impressed as hell, Copeland,” Markley returned. “How’d you like to be my apprentice? We’ve already blown the 10 hour limit on Ask an Engineer. But I can bill the city 5 hours a week on the practical engineer program. They call it apprentice. It’s really journeyman. Mentor you to professional mastery. And I can front-load that, say up to 15 hours a week to get you started.”

  Copeland boggled. “Leave the Thrive?”

  “Hell, no. This is where you get paid to master your craft. I’m just advising.”

  “You’d do that? For me?”

  Markley grinned. “The past two hours were your exam. You scored off the charts. I’d love to mentor you. You’ve got the most interesting problems I’ve sunk my teeth into for years.”

  Copeland looked away, stunned. This offer, like Sass and Josiah’s patronage before, was sharply at odds with his self-image. He was just another stupid mechanic from Schuyler, trying to make a credit. Wasn’t he? “I don’t know what to say.”

  Markley sighed, disappointed. “Oh. Well, the offer is open –”

  “Yes! God, yes! I was just stunned.”

  “Alright then!” Markley beamed and thrust out his hand to shake on the deal. “Got time to review those field generator plans now? You’re gonna love this. We’ll turn this old boat into a real spaceship yet. Maybe even a starship someday.”

  47

  Denali was the most Earth-like planet in the Aloha system. Only cool enough for humans in the polar regions, it supported a rich biota. Earth derived plants couldn’t compete at all. The animal life was belligerent, and the atmosphere unbreathable.

  Sass swung the rope three times, then missed her throw again. The cliff face of the Grand Rift towered above them, 70 meters of assorted mushroom gray with striations of rust, tan, and a pale sea-glass green, Mahina’s best shot at a natural wonder.

  Clay was the one person she’d taken for granted. Of course he’d come to Denali. Except he left the ship and didn’t return. They saw each other at conferences with Mahina officials several times. Abel set up a couple business meetings for just the three of them as co-owners of the Thrive. Those Clay begged off at the last minute. After the second time, Abel insisted that Sass talk to the man.

  When she called him, Clay coolly reviewed the obvious. Denali was a year and half trip, five months each way locked into a tin can together, plus being stranded with the planet until its orbit came around again for them to depart for Mahina.

  They both had nanite suites that craved sex. So were they going as a couple, or screwing with crew? If Sass wasn’t willing to talk it through first, Clay refused to board the ship for Denali.

  Two nights away sounded easy, three nights really awkward. So he demanded three nights minimum alone together, without Sass’s playmates and ship for distraction. His choice of accommodations. Which for tonight turned out to be an awning at the base of the cliff.

  Clay shook his head, and started climbing without a safety rope. “We don’t need it, Collier.”

  “Falling hurts,” Sass differed. But Clay kept climbing, with no gear beyond a water flask and the ever-present grav generator. She tried one more throw with the rope, failed again, and conceded the point. She started clambering, selecting her hand- and foot-holds with care.

  Clay had gone natural. No artificial crow’s feet, no cosmetic laugh lines, no business suit. He wore jeans and steel-toed rego boots, and a brownish-rose silky T-shirt that set off his coloring to perfection. Leave it to Clay to find a designer T-shirt. But he looked great. Sass’s nanites concurred – they’d far rather opt for sex than have her chip her fingernails on this cliff face.

  “Cosmetics,” Sass said. “You skipping them just for vacation, or?”

  “Permanent reset,” Clay returned. “Time to give up the masquerade. Be who I am.”

  Looking forever young tended to raise questions. “Not explain that to everyone, I trust?”

  “Nope. No explanations, no excuses.”

  “Even if you stay on Mahina, instead of going to Denali?” Sass probed. Without his makeup, in perfect health, Clay looked 10 years younger than his son Hunter. That must be awkward with the grandchildren.

  “I decided that was a ground rule,” he returned. “Whatever I do, I do it as myself from now on. Including you.”

  Sass paid attention to a crumbly bit of rock face for a bit. She silently considered his comment
s a few minutes more before responding. That sounded like some serious soul searching. “Do you think I’m a fake?”

  “Are you? You’re kind of a hedgehog with me. Prickly. Defensive. Closed.”

  “I’m sorry I made you feel that way,” Sass murmured sincerely. With 10 people aboard the Thrive, being awkward with one of them wasn’t a deal breaker. Unless you really cared about that one. Of course they cared about each other. They’d known each other for 70 years, and the rest only a few months.

  Halfway up the cliff face now, she stole a peek at the jagged rocks below. “You’re not planning to jump, are you?”

  “Maybe on very low grav,” Clay replied. “For fun.”

  Sass resumed her scramble with a sigh. She was in excellent shape, but even so, her arms began to tremble with the effort.

  “You ask me to get real,” she eventually said. “But I want you to go to Denali. Cross purposes. I’ll act however it takes to convince you.”

  “I won’t say yes unless you get real with me,” Clay countered. “Out of breath. Let’s talk at the top.”

  He reached it first. He lay flat to extend an arm down to help haul Sass the last of the way. They both lay there simply breathing for a few minutes as the nanites tidied up any unpleasant chemicals which lingered in their twitching muscles. Then he sat up to take in the view, and Sass followed suit.

  From this spot, far from any settlements, the trackless regolith stretched to a horizon that felt uncomfortably near, even after all these years. Suspended dust in the air shaded the edges of the greenish sky olive. Behind them, the rift sloped down in steep scree, harder to climb than the cliff face.

  “As lovers, or not at all,” Clay demanded. “Is my offer.”

  “An ultimatum,” Sass critiqued. “How romantic.”

  “Hedgehog.”

  She chuckled. “OK. I will grant it did not feel right on this last trip. Me finding guys on the stations, or Pierre Lavelle. Like maybe I was hurting you. Maybe at first I wanted to hurt you. Get back at you for acting all superior to me all these years. But you weren’t acting, were you? You were my boss. And then you weren’t.”