The message is terse and typical, and for some reason I can easily imagine it being spoken in his deep cool voice.
Okay, why exactly am I thinking about this?
Frustrated at myself, I get back to my cabin, grab a favorite old book from my duffel bag and try to read a little before bedtime.
It doesn’t occur to me to check my video messages until it’s after 10:00 PM, lights out in all the dorms and barracks.
Because there’s a message from Gracie.
“Hey, Gee Two!” my sister Gracie says, peering closely into the camera, with her noisy barracks in the background. Somehow, in just a few days, she looks all grown up and serious, with her hair gathered neatly behind her and her Cadet Insignia star pinned on her uniform. “Sorry I missed your calls, but things are pretty busy here, we don’t get much time off. Talking about time off—we all got permission to attend the Zero-G Dance on other ships, but only if someone invites us. So—here’s our chance to hang, if you invite me over to your ship! I really wanna see ICS-2, and party with you. Okay, I know you don’t party, but you know what I mean—anyway, call me!”
Oh, great, I think with excitement. A chance to see my little sis! I can invite Gracie here for the Zero-G Dance!
And so I go to bed, resolving to get Gracie over here, one way or another.
Instead of solid sleep, I get woken several times in the night by the voice of the ship’s computer, announcing various trans-Neptunian Kuiper Belt Objects, including Pluto, Eris, Makemake and Haumea.
“Now in orbital range of dwarf planet Pluto. . . .”
And on, and on. Seriously, I get it; it’s unbelievably cool. I mean, Pluto! So amazing, and it even has a heart-shaped area on its surface! But for once I am too cranky with sleep.
And then, toward morning, I hear:
“Now entering heliopause.”
A few seconds later, the next ominous announcement makes my pulse race and wakes me up completely from a shallow sleep:
“Now leaving solar system heliosphere. . . . Interstellar space begins in ten seconds. . . .”
I bolt upright, almost hitting my head against the low overhang of the storage compartment directly above my bunk.
Dear God, this is it.
We are out—out of the solar system, beyond the safety bubble of the solar winds, having reached the boundary where the solar wind pressure equalizes with the pressure of the interstellar medium of our galaxy.
Cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. My heart palpitates with full-blown panic, with space vertigo.
If it’s any consolation, I whisper to myself, at least we’re still in the Milky Way.
For now.
In the morning, to my amazement, the CCO is filled with people. Not only is Aeson Kassiopei there, but so are Anu, Gennio, and a constant stream of officers and crew who drop by every few minutes to ask the CP for various permissions and specifications, in regard to the Blue Quadrant-hosted Zero Gravity Dance event.
How crazy-big is this thing going to be anyway?
The moment I walk in, Anu hands me a handheld tablet with a checklist of tasks and the event schedule for the big day tomorrow.
“What’s this?” I say, meanwhile glancing in the direction of the CP.
This morning Aeson Kassiopei looks even more icy and irritated than usual, a particularly lethal combination that creates a perfect storm of disdain on his handsome lean face. As a result, his responses to the various officers are curt and somewhat dismissive, while he barely glances away from his work and focuses on his screen.
He must really hate this, I think.
“Check your email for more incoming instructions,” Anu says. “This is the timeline for every ark-ship. The Dance itself begins at 7:00 PM, and runs until midnight on all ships. But first, see all these other things that must happen tomorrow. And here on ICS-2, we are responsible for them!”
“Great,” I mutter. “Resonance Chamber panels diagnostics and sound check at 9:00 AM . . . Decorations start at 11:00 AM . . . Lighting at 1:00 PM . . . Music programming at 2:00 PM. . . .” I look up. “So, no other work or classes scheduled for tomorrow?
Anu snorts. “Why? Would you like some of my work added to your schedule?”
I roll my eyes at him and return to scanning the list.
And then I fill up with courage and ask about my sister.
“Command Pilot,” I say. “What must I do to have my sister Gracie formally invited here to our ship for tomorrow’s Dance?”
Aeson Kassiopei looks up at me. “What?”
“My sister,” I repeat. “I want to invite Gracie here.”
“That is fine,” he says. “Talk to Gennio and have him check the personnel balance sheet.” And then his attention returns to the display.
“Okay. . . .”
I turn to Gennio and he explains to me that the number of personnel physically present on each ship has to be specially accounted for—literally. It has something to do with the maximum weight limits allocated to each vessel in order to maintain the required flight velocities, and to retain the formation balance necessary to keep us all within the Quantum Stream.
“Wow, I had no idea it’s so complicated.”
“Oh, yes.” Gennio nods thoughtfully. “Each ark-ship has to carefully preserve the weight range throughout our journey. For every person, shuttle, or unit of freight that leaves one ship, approximately that much needs to be brought over from another ship, within a specific tolerance ratio. People and things come and go all the time between ships, but the ship systems keep careful track of all arrivals and departures—”
“So each time one person comes and goes, it can mess things up?” I say, thinking with sudden guilt about how I basically stowed Logan away on a shuttle and brought him over here without asking.
“One person is no big deal,” Anu says. “But with all these people getting invited to other ships for the Dance, everyone will be coming and going all over the place, all on the same day. So we have to be extra careful not to upset the weight balance everywhere. That’s why we have personnel balance sheets. The system automatically checks it for discrepancies and dangerous weight fluctuations across the Fleet.”
Gennio types on his console. “Okay,” he says. “I just allocated Grace Lark to ICS-2 for tomorrow, so she is cleared to arrive after 8:00 AM and can stay until midnight.”
“Thanks, Gennio!” I smile at him.
And then I glance down at the checklist on the tablet in my hands. “This is crazy . . .” I mutter. “All this effort for some silly dance.”
“Agreed.” It’s the Command Pilot who responds. He looks at me momentarily and I see the weariness in his gaze hiding underneath the general irritation. “And yet,” he adds, “it’s necessary and has to happen. It’s a morale booster, intended to make people forget the bad, at least for a short while.”
“Yeah, I get it.” I watch him steadily, but he quickly looks away.
The rest of the day is a hassle-filled mess. The other two CCO Aides and I are sent on errands all over the ship, checking the Manufacturing Deck where the 3D printers are cranking out endless production items, testing points of various networked systems, and otherwise getting ready for tomorrow’s precise schedule.
Most of the time I simply tag along and watch and observe, and help occasionally with whatever Gennio and Anu delegate to me—mostly easy tasks such as handling and carrying computer parts. As a result of this, I also don’t get to attend any classes. Oh, I think, Hugo is going to be so very mad at me for not showing up to Pilot Training. . . .
“Will there be food and drink at the Dance?” I ask at some point as we are testing network lines somewhere on Cadet Deck Two.
“Yes, basic refreshments,” Gennio says. “But drinks in closed containers only, because of constantly changing gravity.”
I imagine a giant room filled with weightless dancing people and millions of airborne floating droplets of liquid. Yeah, no. That’s not a bright idea.
“I�
��m surprised you guys would risk any drinks at all,” I say. “Spills happen. Can’t expect every single person to be careful with their closed beer containers. Especially if they’re already drunk.”
Anu glances at me. “No alcohol,” he says. “There’s no liquor allowed during Zero-G Dances.”
Gennio nods. “The combination of changing gravity and alcohol can make people really sick.”
“Good to know.” I file that away under interesting facts—nothing that would ever affect me personally, since I don’t drink, but hey, good to know.
After dinner I call Gracie, and let her know she’s been approved and is coming over tomorrow. Gracie expresses her joy at me through the screen by reverting to her inner twelve-year-old self and squealing loudly. Then I get to hear about her fancy formal outfit that she’d just emailed to the 3D printer on her ship, and how she’s going to dress up in blue, because everyone will be dressed in blue, and how Blue is awesome for hosting the Dance.
She then tells me how even Gordie, our socially-oblivious brother, is into the idea of Zero-G Dancing—and not only because he’s in Blue, and his Quadrant is hosting, but just because—and he’s going to go to the dance held on their own ship and check things out. “I bet Gee Three will just stand at the wall like a doofus and stare at the special effects till his mouth falls open.” Gracie giggles.
“How’s Gordie doing?” I ask.
“Dunno, I don’t see him all that much, but yeah, he’s doing pretty well. He loves being assigned to Networked Systems—or is it Network Systems? Whatever—now he’s discovered Hydroponics, so it’s all cool. He can hang out with the plants and draw them. Better than people. Better than girls, definitely. Wanna bet, he won’t even notice all the hot outfits on the girls tomorrow—”
“Gracie,” I say. “Please don’t overdo it, okay? Just don’t wear anything too outrageous that would make Mom worried.”
Gracie sticks her tongue out at me. And then just like that she goes serious. “I miss Mom . . .” she says softly, frowning.
“I know.” I give her a virtual finger kiss against the display screen. “So—see you tomorrow morning after eight—”
I want to add “I love you” but Gracie nods, frowns even more, and suddenly disconnects the call.
I linger, staring at the blank screen and wonder if my little sister is now crying.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Today is Zero Gravity Dance Day. Yes, it’s only the first of four such Dances scheduled throughout the months of our journey. One for each season, and this one’s Blue.
I wake up with the 7:00 AM gradual lights, and feel a strange zing of excitement. My own crisp and clean change of uniform is folded on the chair, ready for me.
Atlantean laundry facilities are spare and there’s always a line to use the super high-speed wash-and-dry combo units down at the end of each deck. But last night I managed to run my clothing through, and now I’m all set for today, with a fresh new bra and undies, and that very pretty starched and pressed looking uniform. As far as uniforms, we all have two sets each, so I get to wear my perfectly clean one in honor of Dance Day.
Just for a brief moment I regret not having a special dress to wear to this thing. And then I tell my stupid brain to cut it out.
I don’t dress up. I don’t dance. Remember, Gwen numbskull Lark?
Besides, after all the upcoming work in the Resonance Chamber today, I hardly expect my clean new uniform to still be fresh and unblemished. Oh, well.
I shower and put on the clean uniform, and consider doing something different with my hair. A stern, pasty-pale, tired girl looks back at me from the mirror, with long hair that’s starting to form waves already, even though it’s ratty wet. And so I decide to just do the ponytail for now. Maybe, when it’s time for the actual dance I can run back to my room and freshen up a bit, and maybe brush my hair and wear it loose. . . .
I rush through breakfast, seeing no one I know in the Officers Meal Hall, and then head directly for the shuttle bay that’s supposed to produce my sister. I don’t have to be anywhere until 9:00 AM when we begin work at the Resonance Chamber, so I hang out at the bay for at least fifteen minutes past eight, watching the crazy-busy traffic.
It is absolutely a madhouse today. Shuttles arrive and depart every minute, kicking up major wind in the launch tunnel, and the platforms are filled with Earth teens and Atlanteans. People carry bags and formal jacket suits and dresses neatly wrapped in plastic, and a few brave souls are already dressed up—which I think is insane, since they have a whole day to kill before the Dance. Some of the Cadets are wearing white dress uniforms, trimmed with gold braid around the collar and sleeves. I realize these must be parade uniforms of the Atlantean Fleet, and they look sharp.
Happy, rowdy teen noises come from everywhere, squealing, yells of greeting in various Earth languages, as people meet their dates arriving from other ships.
I watch a few couples kiss and linger, as they come together, and I think about Logan. I haven’t seen him for the last several days, so I wonder how it will be. . . . At this rate, I’m uncertain if he will even show up for the Dance.
Eventually, Gracie’s shuttle arrives. I see her come down the short ladder, and oh, wow—Gracie’s wearing the fancy white Cadet dress uniform! And right behind her I see a familiar hoverboard, and on it, Blayne Dubois. He’s hovering upright in the LM Form, dressed in his everyday grey uniform. Gracie turns to him to say something, and laughs loudly as she takes the last step off the bottom rung.
They both see me and Gracie waves. “Gwen!”
I move through the platform crowds toward them. “Gracie, there you are! And, wow! Look at you!”
Gracie beams at me and straightens up her posture. “You like?” Then she adds, “And no, there’s no uber-foofy blue prom dress outfit, I was just messing with you last night. . . .”
I notice her hair is tightly pulled back and pinned smartly up, and her usual raccoon eyeliner has been toned down to resemble the Atlantean fine-line kohl fashion—it actually looks good! And I have to admit, my little sister looks darn good overall. The sharp perfect creases of her uniform pants are flawless, her boots shine, shirt has no wrinkles, red armband is tied impeccably, Cadet Insignia star pinned in proper place, and the whole thing sits so well on her, that I am amazed. Even her pearl stud earrings are in good taste!
I make a move to hug her, and actually pause. “May I touch you?” I whisper with an open mouth.
In reply Gracie reaches out to me and we hug, carefully, but for a nice extended moment.
When we come apart, Gracie turns to glance at Blayne. “It’s so cool that Blayne happened to be on the same shuttle with me,” she says. “We got to blab!”
“Hey, Lark,” Blayne says to me, moving his longish hair slightly out of his eyes. “I guess I should specify which Lark, now,” he adds with a faint smile, without looking at Gracie.
We laugh.
“So what are you doing on the shuttle?” I ask him, as we start moving from the platform toward the exit and the interior of the ship. Blayne softly sings the note sequences to advance his hoverboard, still in the upright position, while he maintains his lower body hold on it. Wow, but he’s gotten good—it’s almost unnoticeable that he’s not actually standing.
“I don’t remember if I told you,” he says, “but the CP assigned me to teach LM Forms to a few of the Combat classes. Yeah, I know, pretty wild—I guess he thinks I’m ridiculously decent enough at it. So anyway, I get to go around the Fleet and do the classes on different ships.”
“Yeah,” Gracie exclaims. “Blayne was coming back from teaching, which I think is super awesome.” And then she looks at him and back at me quickly.
We get scanned by the security at the exit, then proceed to the interior.
“That’s super impressive, actually,” I say to Blayne. “But I’m not too surprised. You’re really rocking the LM Forms, Dubois.”
“I am, aren’t I?” he adds with a sarcastic sm
ile, and barely looks from me to Gracie, who smiles widely at him. “Good thing they found something for me to do around here.”
“Aww, come on!” Gracie exclaims, and then punches Blayne on the arm, so that he says, “Oww.”
We laugh again.
“You guys had breakfast yet?” I ask.
They both nod.
“Have anything major scheduled for today?” I ask Blayne.
“Not in particular.” He shifts on the board slightly.
“Do you mind watching Gracie for a bit, while I go deal with the Resonance Chamber for the next hour? All the CCO Aides have to do acoustic tests in the room—”
“Watching me?” Gracie interrupts with outrage. “Hey! I’m not five! Blayne and I can just go hang out for a while, but it’s not like he’s babysitting me, because that’s a rotten thing to say, Gee Two!”
“Okay, okay!” I put up my arms. “Blayne, can you please go hang with Gracie for a while?”
“Sure,” he says, after the slightest pause. “I was actually going to get a nap and catch up on my reading, since we get the day off—”
“Some of us don’t get the day off,” I counter. “And besides, the Dance starts at seven, so not much of a day.”
“Since I’m not going,” he says. “I get the whole day and night all to myself. Pretty nifty.”
“What?” both Gracie and I exclaim simultaneously.
“You’re not going?” I say. “Don’t you want to see the amazing weightlessness and all that low gravity dancing? It’s supposed to be spectacular. Just the observable physics alone is worth it!”
“Nah,” he says. “Not my scene.”
“Not my scene either,” I say. “But still, fascinating—”
“Aww, come on, Blayne! Noooo!” Gracie whines. “You absolutely have to come! That’s crazy, you can’t miss this Dance! Noooo!”
Blayne sticks one hand in his ear. “Oww, oww,” he says. “Pitch too high, ruptured my eardrum, lower volume please, Lark Two.”
Compete Page 29
