by Kate Rauner
She needed to hear his voice. On her flat pad, Maliah played the video of Tanaka explaining her father's death to the Kin. He spoke from the exact spot on the balcony she'd just left.
"Yash Rupar will lie with our other martyrs on Titan's surface," Tanaka said. "Preserved for all time to inspire our descendants with his courage. And he leaves the Kin a living legacy - his daughter stands with me, full of sorrow, yet inspired. We cannot change what has happened, but we can honor Rupar's memory by renewing our devotion to his life's goal. To establish paradise on Titan." Maliah stepped into view beside him and raised her fist, leading the chant. "Kin, Kin, Kin." Tanaka smiled at her.
She closed the video. Perhaps he had left his blessing. Tanaka called her father a martyr and called her inspired. All was forgiven.
She'd lied to Magnus. It was difficult to find clips from Tanaka's speeches that addressed life in the domes, but she could create holograms. With a few creative imaging applications, Tanaka would deliver the necessary edicts. Even his incomprehensible journal could inspire Kin. A language algorithm could keep replacing abstract phrases with more common expressions until it made sense. With Maliah's help, he'd deliver a new message each day.
Holograms were her area of technical expertise.
Yes, it all made sense. Her father's disobedience was a teacher's parable, and Tanaka called him a martyr. That was her father's reward.
Fynn would fill the same role for her. It was fitting. Fynn was the image of their father. She shook her head. Yes, it must be Tanaka's plan for Fynn to become her martyr.
Maliah's heart fluttered at this revelation.
Tonight, she'd complete her usual chores in the cyber room. There, surrounded by shiny racks and cabinets, she'd evaluate array redundancies, check memory usage, and analyze the hardware logs. She'd check the third cabinet, the one that always seemed on the verge of overheating. The routine was comforting. Then she'd work on holograms. Tonight, when no one was watching her, she'd go down.
She needed to pass the hours until the dome's lights faded to red. Maliah used the vertical ladder in the lounge, so she wouldn't have to step outside where someone on the playing field could see her. Tanaka's storage room was below the lounge and above the adjuncts' apartment. Each footfall was a drumbeat on the plastic panels, so she slid her feet silently.
A few tins of cookies remained on one shelf, the only cookies on Titan. The containers had been filled with nitrogen on Earth to keep the contents fresh.
She peeled the seal off one tin, pried open the lid, and inhaled deeply. Would there ever be more cookies when these were gone? She didn't remember if Max had brought wheat seeds. There might be a substitute. Ground chickpeas, maybe. Would those cookies taste as wonderful as these?
She nibbled. The sweet taste of butter. Max certainly hadn't brought cows.
Maliah climbed back to the top floor lounge. Maneuvering was awkward with the tin under one arm, but thanks to Titan's low gravity, she managed. She'd eat one or two cookies, hide the tin in her bedroom, and take a long nap.
***
Greta waited at the tower's spiral stairs. Fynn had texted her through the covert Herschel link that he wanted to come on her next visit to Maliah. He jogged around the corner of the kitchen with a red fabric rolled tightly under one arm.
Maliah was alone when they entered the top room. "Hi Mom. Fynn."
Her golden skin was flushed pink so the few splotches on her face glowed like henna tattoos. Greta dropped her medical bag to give her daughter a hug, and Maliah reached one hand out to grip Fynn's in a greeting.
Greta touched her forehead. "How are you feeling, hon?"
Maliah pushed away. "With all your medical gear, you're feeling my head? Relax, I don't have a fever."
"I'd be happier if you'd come to the clinic. Ultrasound would give me an idea how the baby's doing."
"What's the point? The Herschel's medical lab isn't available, so there's nothing you can do."
That would be true for months. Greta couldn't even access the store of vitamins yet. "Not everything requires advanced technology. Birthing classes..."
"I've got videos for that. Everything I need. Don't sweat it."
Greta bit a lip briefly. She couldn't push too hard, but there was something she wanted to know. "Has the baby started moving yet?"
"No. Now, don't give me your professional frown. In the Mars colonies, babies start moving later than on Earth, and Mars has, like, thirty-eight percent gravity. Titan's only fourteen percent so it's reasonable to see differences. Don't fuss at me."
A number of responses flitted through Greta's mind, but she only sighed. They'd had this conversation before. She retrieved a disk protruding through the top of her open bag and dropped it on the floor. "You don't have to go to the clinic to give me a weight."
Maliah heaved her own exaggerated sigh and stepped on the disk.
Worry replaced Greta's annoyance. "You haven't gained weight."
"It's only going to be a pound or two in Titan's gravity. Your scale just can't measure it yet. I am getting bigger."
She put her hands on her hips and leaned backward. Her belly strained against her coveralls and she plucked at the fabric.
"I can help you," Fynn said. "This is why I came." He shook the rolled fabric revealing a deep red sweatshirt. "I wore this on our ride up to the Herschel in spaceport. It's big on me, so I thought..." He held it out to Maliah. "Take this until we access the maternity supplies."
Maliah's face brightened. She slid the coveralls off her shoulders, tied the arms across her front, and pulled on the shirt. It fell to her hips.
"Warm and soft." Maliah rubbed the sleeves. "Thanks, Fynn. And, I'm sorry I threw you off the balcony."
Fynn pouted like a little boy. "I hurt my ankle." He surely wanted more of an apology. Greta held her breath, but Maliah seemed like her old self today.
"You looked pretty funny, thrashing around as you fell." She giggled and locked a gaze full of mischief on her brother.
He ran a hand through his hair. "Well..."
He was about to fold. Whenever she'd gotten him into trouble with one of her schemes on Earth, Maliah charmed her way back into favor. Sure enough, Fynn dropped his gaze to the patterned floor cloth, huffed out a breath, and looked up with a sheepish smile.
Maliah would reward that. She leaned toward him. "You did good, you know. Once you stopped thrashing, that is. Rolled your landing. You'll get a badge in gymnastics yet."
Greta bent to retrieve the scale and hide a smile. Fynn always admired his big sister, though he might be upset if he noticed Greta was enjoying Maliah's victory. She hovered over her bag for a moment to regain her professional facade, but seeing her children together, behaving normally, warmed her soul. If only they would stay this way.
Maliah pulled the sweatshirt cuffs down into her fists and pivoted back and forth. "Thanks for the shirt."
Fynn bounced on his toes, pleased at his sister's approval. "You'll get something better soon. The shuttles are about to start hauling atmosphere to the Herschel to pressurize the ring. With both decapods fully functional at the depot, it'll go fast."
"Oh, that's great news." Maliah fumbled for her left coverall sleeve and tapped the embedded pad. "Let's celebrate. I'll have Maj bring up some tea."
Apparently, her daughter hadn't been following the Herschel's progress. Neither had Greta, at least, not in detail. Not since Yash died. Liam and his crew posted daily progress reports, but she'd stopped reading them. They documented the mass of fuel consumed, number of welding rods used, or meters of cable strung along the spokes. Over and over, the reports were different ways of saying, we're still working on it. Nothing to hold her interest when she had patients to tend.
Fynn tipped his chin up. "My crew did a good job getting the bots back in service. Everything's going to be fine once we can fabricate new parts."
"So you'll bring your Mechanics back to Village barracks then?" Maliah's smile hardened.
Fyn
n clenched his hands. "Most Village Kin would welcome us back. Turn the barracks over to the newly awakened, and maybe you'll see a return."
"We're not on Earth anymore. The newcomers need to be taught Doctor Tanaka's vision for Titan. They need to embrace it."
"We're all Kin. Your trustees need to embrace that."
Maliah stiffened. "Then, mister engineer, repair your dome's cameras so everyone can see what you're up to, and I won't need trustees. Like Doctor Tanaka said, Kin must have no secrets."
"We're using those cameras in our control circuits. That's more important than spying."
Greta placed a hand lightly on each of their shoulders. "Come on, kids. We were about to celebrate."
Maliah's guileless smile returned. "Of course. Fynn has a vital role to play in the colony."
Fynn took a breath, puzzled for a moment. Suspicious, maybe, but willing to drop the argument.
Her daughter relaxed, and her color looked better too. Maybe the warm sweatshirt was what she needed.
"I told Maj to bring sugar for our tea."
Chap ter 12
E van was shuttling the morning's awakened Kin to the domes, so Drew expected to relax for the rest of the day.
At lunch, Liam made a proposal. "Only a couple levels left to awaken. Could get a jump on our next task, which is moving tanks to my shuttle. Any volunteers?"
Knut, the psychologist, raised his hand. "I'm staying onboard for now, so I should make myself useful."
The pilots exchanged frowns with the medics. "I helped awaken Kin this morning," Kana said. "That's my job for the day. I'll pitch in tomorrow, but right now, I want a peaceful pouch of tea."
"I want to see how these tanks are going to work," Drew said. "Liam, what can I do to help?"
"Winches are stowed in those cabinets." Liam pointed. "I queued up the instructional videos. View each one a couple times."
Surrounded by Knut and the other medic assistants, Drew stared at the screen, watching arrows point to tank after tank in the diagrams. He'd assumed the tanks were hooked into the Herschel's life support systems, but most were slated for shuttle service. After a few viewings, he understood the job.
Within an hour, anchor links gripped rungs on the hull and load hooks were connected to lifting lugs on the first tank. Knut braced his feet and pulled a lever handle, clicking the ratchet drive one notch. "It works. Tighten the other cable pullers. We need to slide this tank through that open space in the brackets. Ready on brakes?"
Drew found his own footholds and wrapped both hands around a lever. The tank might be weightless in space, but it still had mass, so it could turn into a battering ram if they weren't careful. "Ready on brakes," he said.
Ratchets clacked with each notch of their gears, and the tank inched forward. Helpers emerged from the opening above them, cables were connected and removed, and the tank continued its trip through the overhead.
Moving the tank was slow work. When the opening was clear and crewmates in quarters took over, Drew darted forward, and then slipped ahead of the tank so he could watch the team pull it into the dock.
Rutger snagged a handhold next to Drew. They'd been in the same unit on Earth, and Drew always liked the tall, square-jawed barracks mate. "The other guys can bring the next tank," Rutger said. "Let's install brackets for this one."
He pulled open the hatch to Poseidon, shuttle number three, which was Liam's craft. Rutger ignored the entry door and Drew learned why the Herschel's airlock was so big. The shuttle's entire rear hull hinged at the top and swung up to the airlock ceiling. Retaining clips connected perfectly with a ring on each side.
Loops embedded in the Poseidon's interior hull flipped up and the bracket clicked into place easily. By the time Drew and Rutger returned to the dock, others had turned the tank and pointed it straight at the hatch. With more winches connected to rungs that Drew had never noticed, or at least, never thought about, it slid through.
"Slowly. Gently." Knut coached them as they lined the tank up with the bracket. "We don't want to dent anything."
Liam floated to the hatch lip while they clamped the tank into its bracket. None of the shuttle's systems were running, so his voice echoed clearly inside the cargo bay. "Don't mind me. Just curious what you're doing to my shuttle."
Rutger slapped the tank. "It'll be full of tanks like this one. You'll have to turn sideways to slip between the rows."
Knut drifted to a handhold near Liam. "Order your crew to help us, Liam, and we'll be done in half the time."
"You'll get volunteers tomorrow."
"Volunteers? Cohort Gonnor wouldn't have waited for volunteers."
"Gonnor's dead, and don't know what she'd say if she'd been through what we have."
Knut pulled his body parallel to Liam's with his head a bit higher. Only in zero-g could a shorter man loom over the big commander.
"I've watched Doctor Tanaka's addresses," Knut said. "He ordered strict discipline to deal with the problems he encountered in the domes."
Liam clapped his wide hand on Knut's shoulder, not angrily, but the impact pushed the psychologist downward. "Lucky you're aboard the Herschel."
Rutger struggled with the next bracket clamp and Drew braced himself to help, but a chill spread through his hands as he listened. The two men sure seemed to be having a spat. The Herschel was a refuge from all the craziness in the domes, and he'd expected that to continue once the station was spinning. Now he didn't know what to think.
***
Greta crossed the playing field and threaded her way through the crowd at the air lock. Today was a milestone. The last Kin were shuttling down, the youngest girls, and they had awakened successfully. After so much worry, children suffered fewer stasis aftereffects than adults. Maybe it was their metabolism, maybe it was simply their smaller body size. It really didn't matter anymore because everyone was awake. Greta bounced as she walked.
Mechanics stood at the hatch like guards. Fynn spun the handle, pulled the door open, and the crowd cheered. The girls marched out, a few bold enough to wave, others scanning faces nervously, looking for friends. They were rewarded as people rushed forward, hoisted them onto shoulders, and carried them to the mess hall.
Erik slouched over the hatch frame, extended his hand to Greta, and leaned his weight on her shoulder. "I feel like I'm made of lead." The Herschel's medic had been in zero-g since the ship entered orbit, and he smiled weakly. "A few of our new assistants shuttled down too, and I told them they could join their units. I hope that's okay."
"Yes, yes, that's exactly right." Greta reached her free hand to the other two Herschel medics following Erik out the hatch. With no more awakenings to supervise, they'd all help care for Kin in the domes, and receive centrifugal treatments themselves.
She led them across the dome to the pale blue clinic building. The newcomers gratefully slumped into chairs mining the largest treatment room. As Greta gave them each a cup of water, her dome medics packed into the room. Greta hopped her butt onto the exam table and waited while everyone exchanged greetings.
When Kumar looked up to her expectantly, she asked for his assessment of the girls.
"We did a quick check, and the kids look fine," he said. "Everyone's anxious to talk to them, and I see no problem delaying a more thorough examination until tomorrow."
"Give us a day or two to adjust to gravity and we'll pitch in," Erik said.
"You call this gravity?" Kumar laughed. Good-natured jokes bounced back and forth. The medical team hadn't been this enthused for months.
"Kumar manages our patient schedule," Greta said. "I've asked him to add the Herschel medics to our rotation and split the work load evenly."
Dagmar, one of the dome medics, nodded happily. "Now I can spend more time on my nephrology studies."
"I'm taking those courses on the cybernet," one of the Herschel medics said. "I'll be your study partner."
The two groups of medics were going to integrate effortlessly. Feeling light enough to float
away, Greta pumped her legs like a schoolgirl on a swing. "Erik, I'd like you to assess the rate of drug usage we've recorded, gauge what we'll run out of first, and set manufacturing priorities for the Herschel's labs once they're available. I plan to concentrate on evaluating the efficacy of our centrifugal treatments."
"We have cubicle sleeping rooms for you here in the clinic," Kumar said to the new arrivals. "Not much space, but walls and a door make catching a nap easier."
"What about space for patients?" Dagmar said. "We have three patients diagnosed with chronic stress. They're spending each night in the clinic in the treatment rooms. It's the only way they can get some sleep, but that makes every morning a mad house when other Kin walk in."
Kumar nodded. "We need a barracks unit reserved for patients."
"I think we can accomplish that," Greta said. "Fynn has materials to assemble more structures, and there's room to add a unit between the clinic and the women's barracks. Why don't the rest of you head to the mess hall? There should be tea to welcome the awakened girls. I'll arrange for delivery of the new barracks panels right away."
It was a good excuse to steal a moment alone. It was over. All the worry about awakenings was over. She could finally let go.
Greta staggered a little in the hall and hurried to hide behind her office door before anyone noticed. Dizzy, she collapsed onto the sofa. What a relief, now that the children were safe, and her muscles turned to water. Greta panted breaths through her mouth, stifling tears. With her pale skin, almost translucent after months on Titan, crying would give her red, swollen eyes to attract everyone's attention. She had to be strong when she left this room.
She shuddered with swallowed sobs and hugged a pillow to her chest. If only Yash were still alive. If only she could feel his arms around her. Sometimes, half-awake in the mornings, she almost believed he was sleeping next to her. He'd be so pleased to see the last Kin awakened and building a colony the way he'd planned. She wished she could tell him that his dream was coming true.
***
