by RF Hurteau
"It's twins."
The room fell silent. Ripley felt his stomach tighten, and he sank onto a chair. No one said anything for a long time. When Willow spoke again, her voice was soft, quavering.
"I went to my appointment and they ran some tests. And the doctor said there are two," she explained in a disjointed way, as if the words burned when she spoke them. "I didn't know what to do. I'd planned to come here, to plan a surprise for you with Ripley. But then they said two. I didn't know what to do, and I didn't want to go home. So I just came anyway. And Ripley wasn't home, so I let myself in." Tears streamed down her face again. "It was going to be such a beautiful surprise."
"I'm so sorry," Ripley said, reaching out and placing a hand on her knee.
Felix said nothing. His face was hard. His vape pen was still clutched in his hand. The fist that gripped it was so tight his knuckles had turned white. He was depressing the trigger, and it hissed, emitting a stream of vapor. He didn't seem to notice. "They can't make us do it," he said at last. "They can't. It's wrong! It's always been wrong."
Since the founding of Sanctuary, the Theran population had grown only slightly. They had long lives, and bore few children. Once the original Human survivors had begun to have children, the population had quickly soared to unsustainable levels. A one child rule had been implemented some thirty-two years ago, in order to reduce the population.
It was easy to justify, in theory. Everyone felt the effects of too many people in too small a space. The domes were full to bursting and food production couldn't always keep up. Rations were carefully monitored. People who tried to stockpile food were accused of hoarding, resulting in seizure and redistribution. Those too old or sick to work received the least, and although it was widely denied by the ruling authority, there had been whispered rumors of "compassionate euthanasia" being carried out in the hospital. The Council said that everything would be fine. They said the population would stabilize, and there would once again be enough for everyone. All that needed to be done was to strictly enforce the rules. No exceptions.
"What if I took the second one?" Ripley blurted out. "I could raise him. Or her. I could—" Willow was shaking her head sadly.
"If they allow us to have two children, even if you raised one of them, it would be removing you from the possible 'genetic pool.'”
“Well I’ll sign something, then. Tell them I’m not planning on ever having kids of my own. Tell them whatever they want to hear.”
She frowned. “You can’t promise you won’t feel differently in the future. Others would ask for the same. The Council won't allow it. No special privileges. We are all equal in the eyes of the law."
At this, Felix snorted. “I doubt anyone on the Council would ever have to face this. I think we'd see some exceptions then! I doubt a pair of pure bloods would have to…" said Felix, trailing off. Suddenly, he looked hopeful. "The Council! Willow, you can talk to your father!"
"I could try," she said, but she didn’t sound hopeful. "He’s always said I was welcome to come home. But you know how he feels about us. I don’t think he’s going to offer much help. Not with this."
“But, but they’re his grandchildren!” Felix insisted. “Surely that has to count for something?”
Willow said nothing, just buried her head in her hands.
"It’s going to be okay, Willow. Even if he won’t help, we can figure this out," Ripley said again. "We're going to get through this."
"We? What exactly do you have to get through?" Felix stood abruptly. "I won't let them kill my child!" he shouted. Felix slammed his hand on the table with such force that his vape pen shattered into a hundred sticky, sweet smelling shards of metal and glass. The fuel cell skittered across the table and came to rest at the edge. A tiny drip of acid escaping its punctured casing, falling to the floor where it sizzled and hissed. Felix was breathing hard. Ripley had never seen him like this. In all the years they'd spent together, Felix had always been so laid back, so calm, always quick to offer a joke. Now he was livid. His eyes flashed and his face had gone ghostly pale.
"We'll run away," Felix said at last, nodding to himself as though unsure why he hadn't thought of this before.
Ripley looked incredulous. "Run away? We live in a dome. A dome on the most inhospitable end of a dead planet. There's nowhere to go, Felix."
"Then we'll hide. We'll hide in the tunnels!"
"That's no way to raise a family, hiding in the dark like rats. How will you get enough food?"
"Well at least I'm trying to find a solution!" Felix shot back.
Willow stood up, wrapping her arms around him. She put her chin on his shoulder and made soft shushing sounds in his ear. "Ripley isn't our enemy, Felix."
Felix bit his lip. He looked down at the mess on the table. At the tiny crater in the tile beneath the broken fuel cell, which dripped once more with a sizzle and a pop. "Sorry," he murmured. "Of course he's not." Felix sighed deeply. "I didn't mean to get so angry."
Ripley's heart ached for his friends. Felix was painfully familiar with the one child policy. His mother had become pregnant again when he was just a toddler. The policy had still been in flux back then, instituted just a few years before Ripley was born. The Council had not yet decided that all women would be required to undergo sterilization immediately following birth. It was most likely because of families like Felix's, who had tried to fight the policy that the Council had decided to enact more extreme mandates.
"My mom ran," Felix muttered. "My dad always said she was caught. He said she would have been sent to the labor colony underground. To work on the Geothermal systems." He paused for a long moment, lost in thought. "Maybe they didn't catch her. Maybe she got out."
Felix sighed again. "I wish she'd taken me with her."
Ripley's own mom had died in childbirth. The hole that had left in his life, the same hole that Felix had experienced, had been a big part of what had brought them together. An ache, a longing for a mother neither had ever had a chance to know. They'd explored the idea that Felix's mom had actually escaped Sanctuary. They imagined that she was living somewhere out in the old world now, with Felix's brother or sister. Frontier adventurers! Sometimes Ripley's mom would be there too, in their stories. The two women would be best friends, they'd decided. And they would be planning a way to come back and rescue Ripley and Felix, too.
But they weren't kids anymore. Imagination couldn't make wishes into reality. Felix was grasping because he was hurting. Ripley wished that he had more to offer his friend than false hope or empty promises.
He leaned forward. "She knew the risks of what she did, Felix. Your mom left you behind because you were safe with your father. You wouldn't have been safe with her. You know that."
"Yeah," said Felix. "I guess."
Ripley tried to word his next thoughts carefully. "I know that people have tried, Felix. We've all heard the stories. But they never have happy endings."
There was no way out of Sanctuary. It was hermetically sealed. After the D6 disaster during construction, bulkheads had been put in place and sealed as well. A breach in the seal would wreak all kinds of havoc inside the domes, alerting the authorities. And once outside, then what? The temperature in Sanctuary was always steady. To be subjected to the subzero environment outside wouldn't just be a shock to the system. It would be lethal.
"So, what happens now?" Ripley asked Willow.
"The doctors are running more of tests. They said testing will help them decide which baby to keep. They've scheduled me to come back for—the procedure—after the Anniversary is over." She hung her head, shaking it angrily. “They said there’s a chance I’ll lose both of them. That selective reduction carries certain risks. Acceptable risk, the doctor called it. As if any of this is acceptable.”
Felix just nodded, slowly. When he spoke again, his voice was uncharacteristically cold. "Go to sleep, Willow. You should rest. We aren't going home tonight."
Neither Willow nor Ripley made any protest. At Rip
ley's insistence, she lay down on the bed. Felix swept his mess onto a plate and tossed it into the garbage chute. He and Ripley took the two cushions off the chairs and lay down opposite each other on the floor, each lost in their own thoughts. Willow's soft sobs eventually transformed into long, even breaths.
"So that gives us two days, then," came Felix's voice out of the darkness. “Not a lot of time, really.”
"Two days to do what?" asked Ripley, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer.
"To find a way to survive out there. We're leaving Sanctuary."
four
Of Rats and Spies
The mood was somber as Felix and Ripley parted ways with Willow, seeing her off at the station. Willow was headed for D4, where she taught at the Halfsie school. Ripley and Felix made their way down the Maintenance stairs to the tunnels. They walked in silence and Ripley found himself having to walk very quickly to keep pace with his friend.
"So, are we going to talk about this?" Ripley asked at last. "I mean, you know it's crazy, right? It's never been done. Not successfully, anyway."
Felix smiled. Not his usual carefree grin. This was a small, sad smile. Felix was a lot of things, but he was no fool. "There's a first time for everything."
"Felix, it would be suicide. You'd probably freeze in minutes! You want that for Willow? For the babies?"
Felix stopped walking so abruptly that Ripley took several more paces before realizing his friend was no longer beside him. He turned back, and Felix was looking at him coldly. "You said ‘babies,’” he said, in a dull tone. "And if we don't find a way, it will just be 'baby.'"
Ripley cringed. "Sorry," he offered. "I guess I wasn't thinking."
"No, you weren't." Felix began to move again. Ripley felt uncomfortable. This was a side of Felix he'd never seen before. Willow had told him once about how Felix had stood up to her father when he'd tried to stop their marriage. She'd said his determination and courage had made her fall even more in love with him. At the time, Ripley had laughed it off, but now he understood what she'd been talking about. Felix really could be serious, if he needed to be. It was actually a little intimidating.
"When my mom left, she had to have had a plan." Felix's voice rang out along the empty tracks, unexpected and sudden, giving voice to the conclusion of his unspoken thoughts. "Even if she was caught, she had to have an idea, right? She wouldn't have tried if she didn't at least have an idea. A place to start."
"I don't know," said Ripley, uncertain. "I mean, desperation can make people do crazy things. She probably didn't really think it through."
Felix frowned. "Maybe," he said.
A small sign on the wall declared "Sigil" where the main line merged with a side tunnel that ran to the Sigil Tube Station. One of the trains rushed past them, brakes screeching as it slowed. Ripley pointed at the sign. "That's us,” he shouted over the din.
* * *
Ripley scanned his chip as he entered Core Operations, stopping short when he noticed someone at his post. He glanced at the clock. Somehow, he'd managed to arrive ten minutes before shift change. Ripley stood awkwardly, wondering what to do with himself. One of the supervisors, a severe looking Elven woman with sharp cheekbones and black hair pulled back in a tight bun, gave him a scrutinizing look. "Is there a problem, Prior?" she asked. He was surprised that she knew his name. He suddenly felt oddly guilty for not knowing hers.
"Uh, no, ma'am," he said. “Just running a little early today."
She nodded, eyes still narrowed suspiciously. "Next time, don't sign in until your shift starts. We don't pay you to stand around."
"Sorry ma'am. Won't happen again."
Hearing Ripley’s voice, the young man at his station looked up and smiled broadly. It was Nelson, who had just finished his schooling a few months earlier. He'd shadowed Ripley for a while before moving to night shift. Ripley liked him well enough—on the rare occasions when their paths crossed Nelson was always cheerful. "Hey, Ripley!" he cried, drawing scowls from several nearby coworkers. He looked around sheepishly, lowering his voice. "Good to see you!"
"Hey, Nelson," Ripley replied. “I know I'm early, but if you've finished your log, you can go."
"Sure, sure, passed it in just a few minutes ago! I’m in a bit of a hurry, want to go grab a little shut-eye before meeting a friend. Thanks for relieving me, captain!"
Ripley frowned. The improper use of titles, even as a joke, was frowned upon. "Please don't call me that, Nelson. I'm just shift, same as you."
"Whoops! Sorry!" Nelson said with a wink. "Just like to imagine I might be going places someday, you know? Maybe move up the ladder? Only thirty-four months until my evaluation! But who's counting, right? I don't want to be stuck here forever, like you." He paused and seemed to consider his statement. "Uh, no offense."
Nelson made to leave, but Ripley stopped him. "Hold up," he said, pointing. "What's this?"
"Huh? Oh! Of course. They installed that last night. Made it kind of awkward, actually, trying to do my job with a bunch of engineers muddling around in my space."
Ripley examined the new panel. A steady green light at the top corner was the only indication that it was on. He touched the blank screen and was met with an angry buzzing sound that needed no explanation: access denied.
"Did they give you a code?"
"Nope."
"Did you ask what it was for?"
"Yup."
Ripley waited. "And?" he prompted at last.
"They didn't really want to talk about it. But I guess it has something to do with system energy consumption. I heard one of them mention that. I don't know."
Ripley nodded. A diagnostic machine, then. He peered at the neighboring stations on his right and left. Then he looked across the aisle. Only one other terminal had received the upgrade. He turned back to ask Nelson more questions, but the young man was gone.
He slid into his chair, thinking. Ripley didn't understand what was going on. Was Ripley's station pulling too much power? He wished he could have asked the engineers himself. Why hadn't all the stations been fitted with diagnostic equipment?
Ripley began crossing off his checklist, checking gauges and punching in readings without really seeing the numbers. He was preoccupied, waiting for the supervisor to appear again. When at last she rounded the corner, he stood up hurriedly and raised his arm to get her attention. He felt stupid, suddenly, like he was back in school about to ask a question whose answer he should already know. "Excuse me?" he asked, uncertainly.
She eyed him critically. "What is it?" she snapped. Were all the supervisors so unpleasant? Ripley tried to remember the last time he'd even spoken to one. He didn't recall many occasions of having to do so. The Elven woman was tapping her foot impatiently, waiting for him to speak. "Well?" she demanded, "I have things to do, you know."
"Right. Sorry. I was just wondering, um…this panel is new,” he said, stupidly. What was wrong with him? He had never had trouble articulating himself before, and yet here he was, unable to compose an intelligent sentence.
The woman's eyes shifted to where he was pointing and she raised an eyebrow. "Yes," she said, condescendingly, “very nice."
"What I meant was," he tried again, "I think it needs an access code, but no one left one for me."
She glanced down, her eyes moving rapidly over her tablet. "Sorry. No code. It's SEO."
SEO. That's Supervisory Eyes Only, thought Ripley. Had all the talk with Felix about breaking the rules made him paranoid? Would this have bothered him before? He couldn’t decide. "Can you at least tell me what it's for?"
She looked down again, then shook her head. "Afraid not. Now, back to work." She walked off quickly, and Ripley returned to his seat.
He spent the rest of the morning trying to concentrate on his work, but it seemed impossible. The appearance of the panel made him feel strange, somehow. Like maybe they were keeping tabs on him. But no, that couldn’t be it. Could it? No, he told himself firmly. The D5 station had r
eceived a new panel, too, after all, and he didn’t even really know the man who worked there. They’d spoken maybe a handful of times. Harold was his name…or was it Harvey? For a few minutes, he found himself obsessing over the man’s name. Definitely Harold, he decided at last.
We're leaving Sanctuary, he kept hearing Felix repeat. Then he thought about Nelson's ironic words this morning. Just like to imagine I might be going places someday, you know? I don't want to be stuck here forever, like you. Nelson had only been talking about leaving Core Operations. Felix was talking about leaving the only inhabited settlement on Earth. Of course, he was upset, but he wasn't thinking clearly. There was no way out of Sanctuary. As much as Ripley wanted to help his friends, he didn't see how it would be possible. He racked his brain for answers, but it was no use. Ripley had always been good at fixing things, but this was not the kind of problem he could fix. He found himself fixating on random things around him. The harder he tried to come up with a solution, the more Core Operations seemed to loom over him, commanding his attention.
It had been years since he'd really looked around this place. They were located, aptly enough, in the core of Sigil headquarters. It was a cavernous chamber, with delicately arched walls that gleamed white and came together in a dome far overhead, a tribute to Sanctuary’s unique design. The room itself was circular, with a raised pathway that ran along the outer edge. A half-dozen substations ringed the center of the room, each accessible by descending a short set of steps. Ripley's station monitored vital systems and environmental control levels for each of the domes. His particular job focused on D1. The other terminal that had received a diagnostic panel was for D5. He briefly pondered the connection as he found himself studying the railing that separated the substations from the geothermal condensers—enormous tubes found at the center of every dome. This one’s hulking mass rose out of the floor and disappeared through the peak of the chamber’s curved ceiling. Here and there, the years had opened fissures in its thick insulation, allowing water from the air to condense on portions of the pipe. Tiny droplets had been falling from these fissures for the better part of a century, as evidenced by the rust that had accumulated on the railings, which blocked their passage to the floor.
