by M B Wood
"Ah, I see," Cha KinLaat said. "This says that it's about the same size as Qu'uda, maybe a little smaller."
"Yes, and that means--"
"It has to be the third planet from Kota." Cha KinLaat bobbed his head crest in triumph. "It's the only one that size that’s within the probable habitable zone.”
"We failed to come to a definite conclusion," Bilik said.
"Any other discoveries you forgot to tell me?"
"Not really, everything else is sheer conjecture."
"Such as?"
"Well, the third planet is further from Kota than Qu'uda is from our sun. On the other claw, Kota is a hotter star." Bilik took a deep breath before speaking. "This planet may not support life as we know it."
"What do you mean?"
"It may be colder. It may receive more short-wavelength radiation, more ultraviolet. Its chemistry could be different."
"Oh," Cha KinLaat said. "What about the image we received on Kota, didn't that tell us something?"
"The creature was obviously indoors. When we enhanced the image of the fur on its head, it appeared to have a shine or a gleam from a liquid, which we believe could be water. There was no clue as to what their external conditions were like." Bilik sighed. "There are so many things we don't know."
"Don't worry," Cha KinLaat said. "As we get closer, we'll learn more about the Kota system.”
The room’s ventilator sighed softly, exhaling the aroma of rotting vegetation. Bilik raised his head and sniffed. "What's going on in the environmental system? Has something failed?"
"I don’t think so. I believe because it is a closed system, there's not enough atmosphere to act as a buffer."
"That doesn't explain the stink," Bilik said. “You’re an environmental specialist, what’s going on?”
"True, but there's a lot of plant vegetation left after the harvest is done and we can't throw it away. We have to compost it and make it into a growing medium for new crops. The mature compost is supposed to act as a bio-filter to absorb the odors, but there's not enough to do the job properly."
"Why not?" Bilik asked.
"Well, large decorative plants such as Podu trees require more growing medium," said Cha KinLaat. "They've taken a lot."
"I see," said Bilik. "More Podu trees for the Defenders’ new homes. Did you see the new dwelling Mata Chalik BuMaru created for himself in the food-growing area?"
"Not yet," Cha KinLaat said. "But I heard about it."
"It's a replica of a dwelling of our primitive predecessors who lived in the wetlands. It takes up a lot of space. He fancies himself to be fierce like them."
"Be careful what you say. He's at the center of the community." Cha KinLaat looked behind him as if to see if anyone were there. "So, new food production facilities are built in the low-gravity areas." He bobbled his headcrest. "Well, I suppose being the speaker for the Defenders-of-the-Egg has its privileges."
"I heard Dalchik DuJuga thought he was taking advantage of his position. He's concerned about food production."
"He doesn't have enough support to stop Mata Chalik from building more dwellings. Egg knows he's got more than enough."
"Rumor has it those close to the center of the community want to build dwellings within the hydroponics gardens." Bilik sighed. "It's the Defenders’ latest fashion statement.”
"All that water and high humidity, just like the communal bath. And privacy to do who-knows-what."
"Hmm," Bilik said. "In reality, it doesn't affect our mission. Since our economy is closed, we still have the same resources; they're just allocated differently."
"Allocate more to me," Cha KinLaat said loudly. He softened his voice. "What are you doing with the drive system? I heard you started a new project that has something to do with it. Didn't you replace the propulsion tube earlier?"
"Yes. I gave the drive system a complete inspection after shut down. The main drive reactor had some minor wear, but not enough to affect its performance," Bilik said. "I decided to completely refurbish the whole drive reactor.”
"Won't that mean going outside?" Cha KinLaat shivered.
"Yes." Bilik bobbed his head. "I'll build an excursion vehicle to handle the large parts."
"Why?"
"I like to build things and refurbishing the drive reactor will be like a refresher course." He paused. "It'll get my mind off the alien question for a while."
"That swamp’s not for me," Cha KinLaat said. "I like my routine. Egg knows the navigation is complex enough."
"Look." Bilik called up an image of the exterior of the spacecraft and focused on the drive system.
The main propulsion tube rose above the rough gray surface of the section of the asteroid that formed the stern. The tube was long and glittering with rows of cooling lines snaking over the tightly wrapped magnetic coils made from shiny-black polycarbon. Below sat the fusion drive reactor, a bulbous shape surrounded by massive containment shields. The three large dish-shaped radiators dissipated heat from both the power generation reactor and the drive system. They pointed in the same direction as the propulsion tube. Between the radiators, like giant logs, lay spare propulsion tubes, enclosed in shiny metal cocoons.
"That's going to be my playground for the next year." Bilik pointed at the elliptical roof that covered the entrance to the holding pen for a Bird-that-Soars. It was almost below the stern's curved shape. "The hangar.”
Cha KinLaat shook his head. "Not for me."
"I'm setting up a workshop in one of the Bird-that-Soars' hangars," Bilik said. "Would you like to see it?"
"Yes."
"Let's go."
"Oh," Cha said. "You actually mean to go there?"
"Of course."
"Why not just view it? That's too far to go. I don't like traveling through the axis corridor.” He referred to the long, tube-like corridor that ran from the living quarters through the ship’s enormous fuel tank to the propulsion system. “I don't like going into something where you can't see to its end, especially without gravity."
"You look through interstellar space all the time," Bilik said. "There's no comparison between the two."
"That's different. It's open and there's always something further off." Cha KinLaat swept his upper limb down in a gesture of disgust. "I've only been through that tube once when I boarded. That was enough."
Bilik set out for the hangar by himself.
#
Alone, within the gravity centrifuge, Bilik knew its quiet and safety had all the comforts he could expect in Qu’uda society. The low-gravity region closest to the central axis contained the storage and non-critical work areas, and even though the gravity was lower, it provided space and equipment for creative outlet. However, much of the vacant space had gone for new hydroponics beds, which compensated for the Defenders’ new dwellings in the former food growing areas.
The society on the ship, small as it was, continued to have an active social life, while those with ambition jockeyed to move closer to the center. The continual tension of the silent struggle for central tendency occupied the Keepers and the Defenders. The abundance and availability of resources produced a richness of life unknown on Qu'uda. The plenitude was sufficient to satisfy most, but not all.
Chapter 22
Civics
In December, Taylor hooked up the Yaesu short-wave radio he'd gotten from Alec's house to a salvaged car battery. He punched in the frequency of a station noted on a card taped on the side of the transceiver. Nothing. He turned up the gain. He heard nothing but white noise. He tried several more frequencies. Nothing.
Static wasn't the problem; there were no broadcasts from any of the powerful national stations. He scanned the frequencies, looking for a ham transmission.
"...is Sierra-Sierra-Bravo-November 739, stationed at Bangor. We have a severe trauma case. We need advice on removing an arrow from the spleen and necessary post-operative care. Is any one out there who can help?" The voice faded out. "...sustained casualties in an attack by a l
arge group of unidentified individuals..." The transmission stopped.
"Sierra-Sierra-Bravo-November 739--you're four by seven in California. This is Master-Sergeant Buckley of the one-fifty-ninth infantry, California Army National Guard, in Fort Hunter-Ligget. Our medical officer will be here soon. Irregular groups, too, have attacked us, several times. Not military units, more like gangs..." The transmission faded in and out as the medical officers discussed treatment for the injured person. The National Guard sergeant relayed reports from refugees who said San Francisco had been severely damaged by the nuclear attack and the rest of the city had burned in its wake.
More transmissions like this convinced Taylor civilization had collapsed and an age of barbarism had begun. The more he thought about it, the more he feared the future. Winter had always depressed him, but this year, it was bleak.
#
The Clan celebrated the holidays with exchanges of small gifts of special foods or handmade items. The House of Worship was packed as the different faiths each used their allotted hour to celebrate the season.
Meanwhile, in front of the main residence hall, rows of Canada geese and a huge pig slowly turned golden brown over a bed of glowing coals. In the early afternoon, the succulent meat, aromatic with herbs and dripping with fat, was sliced and piled high on plates with steaming potatoes, boiled cabbage, fruit preserves and fresh bread. Within an hour, the meal was just a memory, save for the bones pets begged from their owners.
Afterwards, long-hidden spirits and wine appeared. For a while, a party atmosphere prevailed. Glasses clinked amid laughter which grew ever more raucous. Soon many, long tired from the extended regime of hard physical labor fell asleep.
Several drunken shouting and pushing matches erupted, which Chris Kucinski's guards subdued. Couples slipped away, while others went to the House of Worship to seek solace.
Taylor joined the Del Corso family in the afternoon to share a bottle of wine and reminisce about their times together. They laughed about the fun and fell silent when they remembered those no longer with them.
As night closed in, Fred and Maria retired to their rooms, leaving Taylor and Franny alone.
"Taylor." Franny glanced up at him. "Why don't you have.” She hesitated. "A lady companion?"
"Um, I do, or I did. I was married..." He drew a deep breath and looked away.
"Tell me about her."
"She’s dead.” Taylor took a breath. “Vivian was beautiful, and smart, and she had the greenest eyes. She loved the outdoors and kids, and me. She was in Washington DC during the nuclear strike. A part of me still hopes she's alive."
"You miss her?"
"Very much." His chest constricted and the lump in his throat grew enormous. Memories came flooding back.
Oh, Vivian, how I miss you. Without a word, he rose and left. In his room, he sat on the bed and put his head in his hands.
#
Franny stared over the cluttered table as Taylor disappeared through the dim doorway.
I should have realized something like this must have happened, she thought. Poor guy, he must have gone off to be alone and we blundered into his life. He's sheltered and fed us. All of this time I've taken him for granted. He's never talked about his own losses. Dear God, please forgive me, I've been selfish.
Franny pushed herself away from the table and followed him down the corridor, past the rows of tiny plywood-walled cubicles in which people lived. When she reached his room, she wasn’t quite sure how to tell him how she felt.
Franny hesitated on the threshold to his room and then pushed aside the curtain. "Taylor, it's me, Franny. Please, I know what you're going through." As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw him outlined against the pale bare plywood of the wall.
"I've been there, Taylor." She sat on the thin straw-filled pallet next to him and put her hand on his shoulder barely touching him.
"You saw how it was when Stosh was killed. I've finally accepted the fact he's gone. I've let go. You've got to let her go. You've got to let the pain come out." She turned him to face her and brushed the hair back off his forehead. "Look, you've got to remember your wife for all the good things you shared, but you've got to let go because life goes on. Wouldn't she want you to?"
She put her arms around him and settled his head on her shoulder. "It's okay to cry, you can't keep it bottled up inside forever." She stroked his head. "You know, you saved my life. I've never found the words to tell you how much I owe you. Did you know my children love you? They think of you as their father.”
She held him. The minutes passed slowly. Taylor’s proximity stirred something inside her. Something came alive, a spark of something long forgotten.
Not quite sure what to do, she started to speak. "You've done a lot for us," she said into his ear. "When you need someone to lean on, you can lean on me, I'm here for you." Gently, she eased him backward until their heads touched the pillows. She lay down next to him and clasped his hand.
"Franny, I'm sorry. I just feel like I need to be strong for everyone.”
"Shush." She put her finger on his lips. "It's all right."
Taylor sighed. "Franny--"
"Shush." She closed her eyes and held him tightly, acutely aware of his masculinity.
That distant spark came closer and closer to the surface. Sounds became sharp and clear. The cool night air made her shiver momentarily. She pulled the rough wool blanket up and felt its scratchiness against her bare arm. She could smell wine on his breath and something about him was familiar, comfortable.
She felt him stretch as his arm moved over her. She snuggled closer and could feel his breath on her face. His lips brushed her cheek briefly and then he stroked her forehead. He started to breathe more deeply.
In the darkness her lips found his. She kissed him, tentatively at first. She couldn’t believe her surge of desire. She kissed him again.
His fingertips outlined her eyebrows, nose and lips, then slowly meandered down to her throat. The tip of his tongue followed the same sinuous path. He moved.
Franny felt the roughness of his face against her cheek and found it stimulating, making her feel more alert and alive.
His hand descended to her breast, and despite his light touch, her nipples grew hard and erect. His lips found her again, to form and fit against her lips. This time it was an even more delicious sensation.
She felt him pull up her sweater and undershirt. For a moment, more than just cold air gave her goose bumps. His hand, warm and gentle, pushed her breast to his lips.
Franny sighed. I should have known this would happen.
At his touch, she took a deep breath and swept her fingers up and down his back. She grabbed his hair and pulled his mouth to hers to kiss him again and again, lips parted.
His hand slid over her belly, gently caressing. As she took a deep breath, it seemed so right to reach for him.
Under the coarse fabric of his trousers, she felt his hardness. What am I doing? Franny thought and paused.
Taylor stirred.
She lightened her touch but did not withdraw her hand.
He stirred again and made a sound.
She realized he had pushed himself against her. It was obvious he wanted her to continue. She clasped him and squeezed gently.
Franny felt his hand glide down over her belly and navel, to the inside of her thigh. Even though the denim of her jeans blunted his touch, its effect was still electrifying. His fingers rose to settle between her legs where they moved with insistent pressure.
She could feel him, but it was not enough.
"Taylor, please," Franny said. "I can't stand it like this." She moved to sit upright.
"I'm sorry." He drew his hand back. "I shouldn't have--"
"That’s not what I mean. I just want it to be good for us."
She sat up and peeled off her sweater and undershirt, throwing them on the floor.
She stood and turned her back to him, loosened her jeans, slid them off her hips and steppe
d out of them. She realized he was doing likewise.
Oh, my God, she thought, it's really happening.
For an instant, time stood still, and then he was there, close, naked against her, enfolding her in his arms.
"Franny," he whispered into her hair, his hands seeking and caressing her.
She tilted her head, turned to him, eyes closed, to kiss his chin, his neck, his chest. She inhaled his masculine scent and felt her excitement rise.
"Oh, Taylor," she said.
His lips found hers and she felt a tiny spark from their contact.
Taylor held her firmly as he lowered her to the bed, keeping himself alongside her. One hand rose against her breasts, to touch her still erect nipples. His other hand slid smoothly over her bare skin, descending lower.
For an instant, just an instant, Franny flinched as his fingers parted her, and then a warm, luscious feeling exploded in the center of her being. She felt a surge of wetness greet his questing fingers.
His lips became active, greedily sucking and pulling on her nipples in rhythm with his fingers' touch.
Franny felt as though she was floating as the pinpoint of pleasure expanded to fill the whole universe and overwhelm all conscious thought. It was not enough. She wanted him, all of him, now.
She knelt over him with her legs on both sides of his torso. She lowered herself until her nipples touched his chest.
"Franny--"
"Shush." She raised her hips and guided him deep inside her. "Ah." The sensation was overwhelming as he stretched and filled her. She rose and did it again, and again, and again. She bore down on him as she reached the pinnacle.
"Oh, Taylor," she said, filled with intense joy. She shuddered as the tension released and warmth flooded within her.
The tears that had threatened now streamed from her eyes.
"What's wrong? What is it?" he said.
"It's." Franny gasped. "It's been so long. There's been so much pain. It almost doesn't seem right." She collapsed against him and realized he’d been there for her all the time. She liked him, no; it was more than that. He made her feel whole again.
