by Baen Books
"You?"
Bertelli sighed. "Yes me. Her name's Valerie. And actually if you let me use to radio I'd like to give her a call. Tell her that I'm coming home."
Balance
by Marina J. Lostetter
“Hellooooo,” said Jamal in his small, sing-song voice. “Convoy computer, helloooo.” The eight-year-old bounced a soccer ball on his knee in front of the access panel. He was supposed to be in class.
“Hello, Jamal,” said the ship’s AI.
“Do I get a new baby brother today?”
“My records indicate that your parents will jointly travel to Hippocrates during their lunch hour to retrieve the next available, fully-gestated clone.”
The boy tossed his ball at the panel and deftly caught it on the rebound. “But is it a brother?” Computers could be so dumb. He’d make them smarter when he grew up.
“The next available clone is that of Nakamura Akane. Her original earned a doctorate in engineering and ship design from the university of--”
“A sister?” Jamal kicked the ball down the hallway. “You’re giving me a sister?” He knocked his forehead against the wall and scrunched his eyes shut in frustration. “Why, computer? What did I ever do to you?”
“I am not in control of the growth patterns. And I had no influence over when your parents submitted their request.”
“Mr. Kaeden?”
“Ah, great,” Jamal grumbled. Through the hall came Dr. Seal, his teacher, carrying the scuffed soccer ball. “You had to tattle on me, too?”
“I do not tattle,” said I.C.C. “Dr. Seal inquired as to your location. You are here. I related such.”
“Not cool, man. Not cool.”
“The temperature is seventy one degrees Fahrenheit, twenty one point seven degrees Celsius.”
“No, cool, like neat, or awesome, or stellar.”
“Those words are not synonyms.”
“Mr. Kaeden,” Dr. Seal reiterated, standing over the boy. “You are supposed to be in class.”
“You are too,” he mumbled.
“Jamal will have to cohabitate with a sibling soon,” the computer explained. “The fact that he was not consulted on its gender seems to have caused him distress.”
“I’m getting a sister,” Jamal said with a pout.
“Sisters are people too,” said Dr. Seal as he took Jamal by the hand and led him away from the access panel.
* * *
Nobody understood. The other kids just made fun of the poopy diapers in his future, and all the grownups either waved aside the problem or seemed mad that he was mad.
“But it’s a girl,” he tried to explain.
The botanist that had come to give a lecture on their classroom air garden scrunched up her face. “I’m a girl.”
His ears turned from dark chocolate to strawberry chocolate. He didn’t mean... Ugh. “Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled. “You’re not a sister.” Even if you are, you’re not my sister.
When class finally got out he knew where he'd have to go to find a sympathetic ear. If anybody in the convoy could understand, it would be Diego.
When he arrived at his family's quarters he was surprised to see his aðon and pabbi--mother and father--there by themselves. No baby. His hopes rose for a moment. Maybe they’d changed their minds. Maybe they weren’t going to get a baby after all.
His pabbi kicked that fantasy out from under him. “We thought you’d like to come,” he explained. “We rescheduled for tomorrow and excused you from class.”
“We didn’t want you to feel left out,” said his aðon from the bedroom. She was changing out of her work jumper.
Well wasn’t that just... He didn’t feel left out, but he wanted to be left out. If he never had to see his sister it would be too soon. They were making a big, fat, ugly mistake. Why’d they want to go and ruin their perfect family with a sister, huh? Weren’t the three of them enough?
He dropped his pack in the entryway and slumped over to the dining table. “Can I go visit Diego when he gets off work?” he asked after he sat down, picking at his fingers and swinging his feet.
“Sure,” said Pabbi. “As long as he says it’s ok. If he’s busy you come right home.”
Diego was Jamal’s afi’s--his granddad’s--best friend. Jamal would never say so out loud, but he liked Diego better than Afi. Afi only liked old people things, and more importantly, only things right in front of him. He had no imagination.
Diego, though...Diego knew how to dream while still awake.
Jamal impatiently watched the minutes tick away. Diego’s shift was officially over at 1600, which meant he should be back at his cabin no later than 1630. As soon as the last minute rolled over, Jamal was out the door and down the hall to the nearest lift.
He had to wait a whole ‘nother five minutes before Diego got there. Jamal sat in front of the old man’s door, knees up to his chin, feet squirming in his shoes.
“Que pasa?” Diego squinted at Jamal when he got close. “Someone have a bad day?” He was dressed in the corn-yellow of most foodstuff workers. His ruddy wrinkles made him look like he’d been basking in the sun all day, though he hadn’t been anywhere near the artificial Sol of a communal garden.
Jamal shrugged, suddenly aware that his complaint might come off as whiny. “How was your day?” he asked politely. Something about being around Diego always made him feel more polite.
“Fine. Figured how to make the soy processing more efficient. My original designed the system, you know. I just made it better.” Diego opened the door. “I was going to watch a movie this evening,” he said as the lights came on. “You might find it amusing. Coming in?”
Diego’s quarters didn’t have as many rooms as Jamal’s. He’d said it was because he didn’t need them. “Only one of me. Can’t take up a family cabin any more. Wouldn’t be right.”
The place smelled like beans and cheese. Diego checked his slow-cooker in the kitchenette, then came back to the main sitting and sleeping area. “How’s the new baby? Problems already? If you liked it you wouldn’t be here.”
“No baby yet,” said Jamal, crossing his arms. “They’re gonna take me with when they get her.”
“Ah. That’s nice.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Oh?”
Jamal shrugged. “Decided I don’t want a sib. ‘Specially a sister.” Diego laughed lightly and Jamal took immediate offense. “You too? You don’t get it. Why doesn’t anyone get it?”
“I’m not laughing at you, amigo. I’m enjoying the simplicity of your problem, not that it is a problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve figured out how to live in space and investigate cosmic phenomena up close. But we still haven’t figured out how to make a new brother appreciate his sister. I had a sister, you know.”
“You did? But, you were born on Earth. Was it another clone?”
The old man shook his head and gestured for Jamal to have a seat. “Nope. My sister was born the old fashioned way. She did not accompany me on the mission.”
“What’s ‘the old fashion way’?”
Diego’s face went blank for a moment, then he waved the question aside. “Never you mind. My point is, I felt the same as you, or at least similar, when I was told I’d be sharing my parents with a girl. Anita. Oh, I hated the idea. I considered running away and abandoning my duties if my mother went through with this whole giving birth thing.”
Jamal gasped. Abandoning your duty was about the lowest thing a convoy member could do. The thought of it made him sick inside. “You did?”
“Considered, I said, considered. I didn’t, of course. I stuck it out. The baby was born, came home, and then...guess what?”
Jamal pursed his lips. “What?”
“I was just as upset with the baby there as I was when she hadn’t been around yet. But I got over it, eventually. You’ll learn to like being a big brother. You’ll get excited when she learns to walk, and talk. But you should never
hold her gender against her.”
“Why not?”
“Why would you hold anything against someone that they can’t help? You know what that’s called? Prejudice.”
“Sounds stupid.”
“It is stupid. Very stupid. But, there was a time and place where your friend Lewis might not have liked you because of the color of your skin, and where someone like my late wife might never have looked twice at a man who spoke a different language than she did.”
“Everyone on board speaks the same language.”
“I’ll give you that. What I’m saying is we’re explorers, Jamal. Astronauts. You’d understand how wonderful that is if you’d been born on Earth... Point is, if we can’t leave all that other bull pucky behind us, well what’s it all for? And how do we honor our unique position in humanity’s history?”
“Through loyalty, efficiency, and dedication,” Jamal recited.
“Yes, but also through understanding. Living in a convoy means we’re rubbing elbows left and right. We have to look at what ties us together. As soon as we start disliking each other for our little differences it’ll all go to pot. There’s nowhere to run, you see? You’re stuck with everyone on board. Might as well be nice to them, might as well appreciate them. So, don’t be mad that you’ve got a sister. Don’t be blinded by that thing you call ‘stupid.’”
“Yeah, alright,” Jamal conceded. “I’ll try ‘n’ like her. Can I not like her if she’s annoying?”
Diego considered for a moment. “Yes. But I still suggest you try.”
“So what’s the movie you were gonna watch?”
“It’s old, I have to warn you.”
Oh no. Not like Afi old, he hoped.
“It’s about space travel. Before they’d had much space travel.” Diego dimmed the lights and accessed the computer.
Before they’d had much space travel? Jamal couldn’t even imagine such a time. “Like a million years ago?”
“No, not quite,” Diego chuckled. “You sit right there. This is the best of the series--classic lines in this one. You’ll like it; there’s a bold captain, a first officer with pointy ears, and a villain you’ll love to hate.”
* * *
“That was awesome!” Jamal said when the credits rolled. “They were so--weird. They really thought you could chop people into tiny little bits and send them through space? And get a person on the other side, not a pile of guts?”
Diego nodded as though he weren’t really listening. “Glad you enjoyed it. Better run along home. Your parents will probably want to head down to the mess soon.”
Jamal prepared to leave. Diego stopped him just before he went out the door. “Jamal, do you know what your sister’s serial number is?”
“Er...No.”
“It’s her production number. It’s how we keep track of how many babies are being born. Can you ask your padre--your pabbi for me?”
What’d he want that for? “Ok,” he said slowly. “I’ll ask.”
“Don’t forget. It’s important.”
“Ok. I won’t forget.”
* * *
Hippocrates loomed before their shuttle, the second biggest ship in the convoy. It looked...intimidating. Especially with all of its arms sticking out all over the place. Pabbi explained that the 'arms' were umbilical; they could dock with the other ships during emergencies.
The ship reminded Jamal of a dead bug. Or the prickly shell of a nut. Maybe a sea creature--they had an aquarium on Eden. Sea urchins were supposedly high in protein. How much protein did he need every day? Well, he was only four foot eleven, so...
He tried to keep up the wandering train of thought. He wanted his mind to stay away from the pending sister-assault for as long as possible. Figures and calculations for calorie intake swarmed through his brain.
Diego had made him feel a little better about the idea of having a sister, but not much.
Other shuttles zipped by outside, white and silvery against the blackness of space. Light from external LEDs bounced off hulls and windows, producing a glare that kept all natural starlight at bay. The ships and shuttles were bright objects in a dark cocoon. When Jamal touched one corner of the shuttle side-shield, graphics popped up to label the hidden nebulae and galaxies and systems. But even the star charts couldn't hold his attention for long.
His thoughts shifted. The classroom butterflies would be free of their cocoons soon. Then the class would take a trip to Mira's communal garden and release the bugs. Butterflies helped pollinate the plants. Plants were a good source of fiber...
The spiny ship swelled before the shuttle and soon blotted out the rest of the convoy. Near its bottom a bay door opened, ready to gulp up their little shuttle--and Jamal’s dreams of being an only child.
His family was greeted inside by a lady who wore a sea-foam green jumpsuit wrapped in a white smock. A paper mask, held on by bands around her ears, rested awkwardly beneath her chin; she looked like she had a bulbous, snowy beard.
“Hello,” she said warmly, “I’m Sailuk Okpik. You’re here to pick up an infant who’s come to term?” His parents indicated they had. “This way,” she directed.
Jamal had visited Hippocrates only once, on an inter-convoy field trip. His yearly physicals, mental checkups, and even his broken leg had all been attended to in Mira's med bay. But there were a few things done on Hippocrates that took place on no other ship: cloning, for one. Jamal had never been to the growing rooms or the birthing chambers before.
The kids told all types of stories about the spooky tubes. About the half-grown babies with their guts hanging out, and the two-headed flukes they had to discard in secret. Some said the accidental deformities got ground up and put in kids' lunches. Others said they grew them to adults and had them work in secret. Still others said the doctors tried to kill the mistakes, but that they lived and formed their own society in the ships’ walls. There they lurked, watching, waiting, ready to strangle healthy crewmembers in their sleep whenever they got their chance.
Jamal didn’t believe those stories. Not really.
“Would you like a full tour?” asked Sailuk. “You probably took it when you picked up your son, but some second-timers like to see it again. Though, I have to warn you, some children don’t react well.” She turned her round face towards Jamal. “Do you scare easy?”
“I don’t know,” said his aðon, “The fetus tanks were a bit much for me when I first saw them, and I was twelve.”
“I think he can handle it,” said his pabbi, “What do you think, Jamal? Are you up for learning where babies come from?”
“Is it gross?” he asked, turning to Sailuk.
“Sure is,” she said frankly.
What would the other kids say, if they found out he’d gone all wimpyfied? “I can take it,” he said, puffing out his chest.
“Are you sure?” Moms could be so stuffy sometimes.
“Yes, Aðon,” he said in a tone that conveyed how tiresome her question was. “I’m not a baby.”
That settled that.
A wide lift at the end of a long hall took them to the very top deck level. When the doors opened Jamal was immediately surprised by the lighting. Instead of a cold white, everything was bathed in pinkish-purple.
“The lighting helps protect the babies’ skin,” said Sailuk. “In most fetal stages it can’t handle the rays included in our normal lighting. Most of the convoy lights were developed to mimic actual sunlight as closely as possible, to prevent problems like seasonal affective disorder. But these lights screen out anything that would be harmful to the undeveloped infant. They work like an old fashioned dark room for developing photographs--or, of course, a mother’s womb.”
The first room they went into was bright again. White, normal light.
“Here we do the actual cloning. It’s slightly different than traditional Earth cloning, in that instead of using DNA from the original, we build DNA identical to the original and then insert it into a healthy ovum. So over here,”
she led them to the left, “you can see Anatoly analyzing a newly formed molecule chain to make sure it is identical to the original pattern.”
A man in a clean-room bent over a microscope and manipulated something on the slide before him.
This was boring so far. Not scary. If Jamal wanted to watch people play with molecules he could just go back to class.
Sailuk ran them through the rest of the first stages, using weird, gibberish words like histone and zygote. Jamal didn’t understand how goats had anything to do with making babies.
They moved on to another purple room. This one was lined with tubes behind a glass window. In each tube sat one worm, suspended in some strange, snot-like solution. Jamal and his parents had entered a viewing cubicle.
“Those are babies,” his aðon said. “They’re only a few weeks old.”
“Ew,” he said curtly. “But they don’t look anything like a baby. Look, this one has legs and a tail.” It was more like a smooth, rubbery lizard than a human. “Ach, this one has big glassy eyeballs, too.” No way these were people.
On they went, through more rooms with viewing cubicles, and he began to see the connection. The more the worms came to look like the thing with legs, the more the thing with legs came to look like a salamander, the more the salamander came to look like a wrinkly naked thing...the more creeped out Jamal got.
Babies weren’t just annoying, they were freaky. Like aliens. And here they were displayed in jars like specimens of dead animals. The whole thing felt...unnatural.
“What’s ‘the old fashioned way’?” he asked suddenly.
His parents stopped scrutinizing a tube that held a baby with head-stubble. “What?”
“Diego said his sister was born the old fashioned way, but he wouldn’t say what that was.”
The adults shared a look. “People used to be born and die a little different than on board,” said his mother. “I suppose that’s the way they still do it on Earth. It was messier, and less efficient.”
