by Michael Orr
“z’This the ‘human condition’ I’m always hearing so much about?”
24
* * *
ESS ASHERAH – GRENADINES OF HEAVEN – MAY 18, 2371
This was gonna be so cool. Trish stood at a corridor nav panel, bubbling with anticipation as she traced directions to Landing Bay 27. But where was Amber?
“Hey T...”
Speak a'the devil. “What’s with the work uniform?”
“I can’t go.” Amber scowled.
“What?!”
“Frickin’ Dru said if I go today I can’t go next time. And that’s Endriia.”
“Why can’t you do both?” Trish’s hands were instantly on her hips. “What’s ’er problem?”
“Life’s diff’rent for us mere mortals,” Amber griped. “We’re not all our own bosses.”
“You know I get that.” Trish was ramping up into full bitch mode. “I just don’t unders–”
“IknowIknow. I’m the one not going, remember?”
Trish sucked back her mad. “Sorry.”
“Ya gotta screem me the whole thing. I want it live. ’Kay?” Amber trotted out her usual optimism and held up a pinkie, which Trish hooked with a sigh.
“Who knows...” Amber added, heading off to work. “Maybe you’ll meet someone.”
“Hey...” Trish called after, waiting for Amber to turn around. She stuck out a pouty ‘little girl’ lip: “Muluus.”
Amber’s tongue flashed out.
Bay 27 was like all the others; and just like any bay on excursion day, it was crisscrossed by queues of waiting passengers. This was Asherah’s second visit to the Grenadines of Heaven, the undeniable highlight of her itinerary.
Nobody really understood the Grenadines. They were the remnant of a planet that had calmly and quietly broken apart eons ago while miraculously managing to keep its ecosystems intact. Hundreds of large and small planet chunks floated free, scattered throughout their original atmosphere. The central clusters were covered in lush tropics while outliers were winter wonderlands. Most other climates were represented as well, and all of them were illuminated by dying red giant Betelgeuse’s deliciously colorful glows.
With juicy daylight colors that could only be seen on Earth at dawn and twilight, the Grenadines were hailed as the loveliest spectacle in known space and absolutely not to be missed.
On her first cruise, Trish did the touristy thing and took sightseeing tours, but this time around she was going for the mac daddy — soaring in the atmosphere with a school of muluus. Even without Amber’s company she was bouncier than usual waiting to board the shuttle. Muluus were a favorite for all ages, and no one noticed her for all the buzzing kids.
Up in the cockpit, Launch Pilot First Class Guinsey watched on live feeds as passengers filed into his available seats. There was no ‘typical’ crowd for the muluu run; it was always a cross section of the ship, which gave Guinsey a feel for the kind of people onboard. This time it was a family affair, which made sense seeing as it was Asherah’s second voyage. Maiden voyages were always the privilege of the nobility and the politically well-positioned.
“Hey-oh!” he called out, seeing someone special come aboard. Such an auspicious event demanded publicity, and he patched into the other shuttles:
“Fellow bird brains, permit me to introduce my latest passenger...”
He switched to the passenger feed and zoomed in on the star of the Zodiac Lounge, who looked all touristy in paint-on capris and a belly-baring halter that did glorious things with her figure.
“You sack’a...” “...Attitude check!...” “...Crash ’n burn, boyyy...” his buddies razzed.
Guinsey grinned thievishly. “I’ll be keepin’ y’all abreast of my sitch on a rhythmic basis.”
“You’re supposed ta be here,” Trish complained into her screem as the shuttle launched.
“Hey, blame Dru, not me,” Amber reminded her.
Trish gazed out the porthole to show her friend the view. Outside was a spacescape like no other. Asherah sparkled above a collection of Grenadines swimming in a thick marmalade glow, while streams of shuttles speared the atmosphere like bullets piercing water. The scores of streaming passenger launches made it an epic moment, and the girls looked on in silence until their reverie was broken by the tour guide’s announcement.
#Welcome to Orion’s most unusual and spectacular natural wonder, everyone: the Grenadines of Heaven — a stunning collection of habitable islands floating like jewels in a shared sky. This is what happens when a planet breaks apart without fanfare. And if you look out the right side, you’ll see our first school of muluus for the day.#
Trish dialed in a group of living wings rippling and undulating through the watercolor sky.
Sounds of human wonder filled the cabin:
“Whoa...” “...Gorgeous!...” “...They’re huuuge!...”
#Gliding with the muluus is one of the most extraordinary experiences offered by the Asherah,# the guide continued. #You’ll soar between islands, joining these graceful creatures on their daily rounds through a serene feeding exodus. The muluus’ve been likened to the manta rays of our own oceans; gentle giants who don’t seem to mind our company at all.#
Nobody noticed the shuttle setting down on land, but the guide soon had everyone up out of their seats to explain the air belts that would carry them aloft, and the fan-gloves they’d be steering themselves with. Then it was outside to gear up.
The shuttle came to rest on a wide ledge halfway up a towering cliff face covered in exotic jungle. This particular Grenadine was a small, dramatic mountain ridge rising up from a featureless moat that mirrored the blood-orange sky. As far as Trish knew, there was nowhere else like it.
Strange calls from unseen creatures filtered through walls of exotic plant life, with leaves and flowers displaying everything from fuchsia to gold amidst what could’ve been grays or greens, depending on the light. And every so often, the aroma of foliage was tinged by a faint honeysuckle perfume.
The far side of the ledge was curtained by a waterfall drifting lazily down the mountain into the surrounding sea several hundred meters below.
“So weird,” Amber echoed. Being aware of how little gravity there was here made no difference — the spectacle of slo-motion water was still bizarre.
“What a place for a picnic.” Some guy chose this moment to move in on Trish, his voice carrying over the shrill sounds of excited children.
“Yeah.” She soured at the intrusion. “Sucks that we hafta go floatin’ around the sky instead, huh?”
“Niiice...” Amber mocked through the screem. “Hey, I gottago ta work. Don’t stop the feed.”
The passenger launch lifted off and disappeared beyond the peaks, heading for the distant landing site while Trish waited in line. Ahead of her, two attendants were gearing up the sightseers, one fitting fan gloves while the other calibrated air belts for each passenger. It required weighing each guest and filling the belt’s bladder to the proper level, leaving Trish to wonder why they didn’t just use G-tech.
“Maybe gas makes for a floatier experience?” Amber guessed.
In short order, people began floating skyward like living balloons, using their fan gloves to steer toward the nearest cluster of muluus. It was comical watching the kids, who had their own gear but were still tethered to their parents. The tethers caused all kinds of harmless bumping into one another and the sky was filled with giggles and laughter from young and old alike.
Meanwhile, somebody’s kid farther back in line had discovered the thrill of weak gravity and was leaping meters into the air. Her glee called other kids to join in and the tour guide went back to intervene.
Trish turned back to glove girl, who was explaining how to use the fans.
“Whenever you wanna use ’em, just spread your fingers. The wider, the more power you get. It’s super easy.”
She fitted Trish with the mitten-style gloves while belt girl was watching the tour guide deal with the b
ouncy-ball kids.
“So the harness adjusts for body types, right?” Trish asked, bringing belt girl back to her job. “I’m kinda top-heavy.”
“Ya think?” glove girl joked.
“Not ta worry,” belt girl assured her. She fitted the harness around Trish’s ribs with practiced ease. “If there’s an emergency, just tug this release.” She pointed to a toggle nesting itself in Trish’s cleavage. “The belt will go into controlled deflation and let you land safely.”
Belt girl released the foot clasp anchoring her guest to the ground, and Trish rocketed into the sky!
“Wha–?!” The overinflated belt sucked Trish into the atmosphere faster than her own breath.
“SSSHHIT!!!” Belt girl reached for the runaway too late.
“You gave ’er the wrong one?!!” glove girl gasped.
“Oh...gawd!” The tour guide hissed as everyone watched the runaway in horror.
“Fuckeddy-FFFUCK!” Trish gritted her teeth, shooting past the muluus with her fan gloves out ahead of her, utterly unequal to their task.
Some of the muluus looked over to watch the strange thing race by, then turned back to their leisurely airborne feeding. Behind her, the island was shrinking fast.
“Ops, we have an emergency!” the tour guide called over her comm. “...There’s no slowin’ that harness down. She’s gonna breach the atmosphere in about two minutes and we’re gonna have a very crispy, very dead guest on our hands!”
Her voice rang inside Guinsey’s cockpit, but the launch was already parked in the landing zone. He rushed through start up and was nearly on his way when another call came through.
#This’z Arctica Military Shuttle Eight, airborne and in pursuit,# the comm scratched.
Sublieutenant Jaff Chapman was flying a big tortoise military transport on a milk run for the local EarthFleet cruiser when the tour guide’s frantic call came through. He’d located the runaway tourist not far from his position and was bringing his clumsy bird around on an intercept.
“Ops,” the guide redirected, “a military shuttle’s going after her, but if he doesn’t reach ’er in time...”
“This’z the runaway’s launch,” Guinsey acknowledged, continuing his own effort. “I’m now airborne and will rendezvous with Arctica Eight as backup.”
“C’MO-O-ON! Don’t DO this!!” Trish furiously grabbed at the emergency toggle, but her gloves wouldn’t allow it. The fans were too wide for her small hands to clasp anything from the depths of her cleavage. Again and again she tried to no effect.
“AAAHH! AAAAHHH!!”
Her eardrums began to stretch in the low pressure, and shrieks burst from her throat. The dull, sickening ache drilled mercilessly into the sides of her skull.
“Nnnnnggghhhhhlk!” Her eardrums ruptured and bile gurgled into her throat. Her whole body went gross as the universe spun sickeningly out of control. Only terror kept her from blacking out.
“COMEOFF-COMEOFF-COMEOFF-COMEOFF!!!” She strained at the glove strap with her teeth, tears freezing to her cheeks as she grimaced with pain.
“GAW-HA-HAWD...PLEE-HEEEZZZE!!!”
Back on Asherah, Amber dashed off stage in the middle of her group performance, crouching fetal behind the curtain and cringing against the squeals of pain and sickness pouring from her friend’s mouth.
“Trish!... Trish!...”
Her voice went unheard by ruptured ears. Trish was dying and she couldn’t do a thing.
Ice crystals swam in the air at this height, and Trish was shutting down from lack of oxygen. A solid crust of frozen tears welded her eyes shut, sparing her the terrifying view of space yawning open all around her. The island she’d taken off from was long gone and she drifted between land masses, surrounded by thin, empty air dotted with twilight stars.
“Almost got ’er,” Chapman reported. “A few more seconds...if we don’t run outta sky.” He strained to match his heavy transport with the tiny tumbling shadow outside. They were desperately close to vacuum now and he wasn’t even sure she was still alive. How could she be? Temperatures aside, the radiation alone would be enough to do her in.
Guinsey arrived on scene and anxiously monitored from an unobtrusive distance. He couldn’t make out details from here...nothing but a tiny silhouette dwarfed by the military tortoise’s mass.
Lost in the heat of action, Chapman matched the girl’s trajectory and planned to slide his transport sideways to scoop her into the hatch. It was a delicate maneuver well beyond the tortoise’s normal envelope, but it worked perfectly in his mind’s eye.
Outside, Trish was oblivious to any rescue efforts. Her thoughts came only in small, punctuated blips of consciousness every few heartbeats, but each blip carried a single imperative:
Lose the glove.
She tore at the strap with all she had left, feeling a tooth come loose in the process.
But it was enough. The strap popped and the glove came free.
Acting on its own with no guidance from her failing mind, Trish’s frozen hand clawed the toggle.
“NOOO!!!” Chapman howled, watching the girl plummet away from his hatch with only a body length to go.
Guinsey looked on in disbelief. She’d been there! Right there! No more than half a second from safety.
#What’s happening?!# the tour guide comm’d.
“About two meters t’go when she managed ta pop her harness,” Guinsey answered, figuring Shuttle Eight was too busy working on a new solution to make a report.
#Whaaat?!# The guide’s voice came like ashes over the comm.
Chapman’s voice was heavy with failure when he broke in. “There’s still time before she falls t’the other side. I’m catching up with her again now.”
The moment’s adrenalin was spent and now he was doing his job mechanically. It was unlikely the runaway was still alive at this point.
25
* * *
THE ÆTHERS
Miles above ground, she leaned over the rail of a galleon watching sun-lined cloud islands drift by as the ship plied the sky.
What th’hell is...? Trish gasped.
Creaking wood kept a comforting rhythm and ruffling sails billowed out against the pale blue sky, spreading gracefully from masts that towered a hundred feet above her. And at their very tips, tiny figures in crows’ nests kept watch.
She trained her gaze on the horizon and gasped at a cresting gust of wind sweeping in. It exploded over the bow, pitching the ship upward and washing her feet off the deck.
For far too long she dangled from the rail by an arm, and before she could recover, the ship careened down the back of the gust. Mercifully, it righted itself in the trough and gave Anita time to regain her footing.
Anita? Trish huffed, taking a deep breath and bracing for impact. The next gust loomed majestically and she wedged herself between deck and rail as the ship pitched beneath her again.
The torrent of wind saturated her to the bone, but this time she managed to hold fast...forced her fluttering heart back into rhythm as the ship slid down into the next trough. But just as she was regaining control, gruff hands gripped her from out of nowhere and wrenched her away from the rail.
She struggled uselessly against the two sailors dragging her across the deck. They propped her up on uncertain legs to face their captain, who stood backlit by the brilliant sun. Anita squinted up at him, unable to make out his face.
“You’ve a crime on yer head,” he shouted above the crashing wind, his voice carrying the hollow timbre of a boy becoming a man. Becoming a pirate. “What d’ye say?”
She gaped at him stupidly. “I-I...dunno what I’ve done.”
The sailors snickered and she recognized them somehow.
“Ya got little enough bizness bein’ a girl,” the captain growled. “Look around, lass...” He gestured grandly about the ship and she realized there were other girls onboard. Normal girls.
“d’Ya sees any sorta dress like that?” He pointed to her clothes. “Anyone else cov
ered so? Yer a disgrace t’yer sex.”
Anita looked down, shocked to find herself frocked by blue and gold flowers covering her like a grotesque carpet. A Chia Pet tragedy.
“It’s not my fault!”
“Away with ’er!” he bellowed, and those iron hands were on her again, steering her toward the gunwale.
“No!” She squirmed in their grip. “NO!! IT’S NOT MY FAULT!!!”
Her struggles accomplished nothing, and the sailors hoisted her onto a narrow plank stretched out over the empty vastness of sky. The narrow board swayed in the ruckus of wind-waves...the tiniest, flimsiest sanctuary possible against the ground, which waited so far below that it was lost in a daydream haze.
Her stomach churned and the sickening ache of helplessness took hold of her hands and feet, robbing them of all strength. Terror gathered — the kind that made her back molars ache. She wailed and pleaded to be brought back aboard but they only jabbed at her with their pikes. The plank bent under her weight and she quivered, certain it was about to snap.
It was desperate work trying to keep her footing as gusts pitched the ship.
No use.
Her shoulders twisted against a roll and she overshot, her torso breaking rhythm with her legs. Horrible, gut-wrenching inevitability overtook her and she lurched sideways with no hope of recovery.
Leering grins met her eyes as she fell in slow motion, dropping into the wide-open arms of the sky.
“IT’S MY MO-O-O-O-M!!!” The scream scraped itself out of her throat as she plummeted downward, still hoping against hope that they’d change their minds and save her in that last split second. But they only watched her tumble away gracelessly into the nothingness.
Tiny dots leaned over the ship’s railing, their cheers racing downward with her, keeping her company as she swam in panic against the heart-stopping emptiness. She tasted her gut in her mouth as details on the ground grew sharper, carving themselves into her last moments. Familiar details: her high school...her homeroom.
