Eclipse 4: New Science Fiction and Fantasy

by Jonathan Strahan

  She shook Mariska’s hand. “I’m told that you’re on the mend.”

  Mariska tried to steady herself. “I’m better, thanks.” Martinez must have heard her screeching as she came down the corridor of the infirmary. It was one thing to act out with your mother, another to make a fool of yourself in front of this woman. If Natalya was a spacer celebrity, Pilar Martinez was a legend.

  “You have the best doc I know looking after you. Saved my life and my career.”

  Everybody knew that story. There were datafeeds and even dramafeeds about the Gorshkov expedition.

  “It was because of Captain Martinez that I decided you should be a hibernator,” said Natalya.

  Mariska frowned. This wasn’t exactly news either. Were they going to stand around telling each other things they already knew?

  “Wait,” said Martinez. “Mariska’s not coming with us, is she? She’s not crew?”

  “No.” Natalya was firm.

  “Then there’s no need for formality, Nata. The door is closed.” Martinez gestured for Mariska to sit on the chair while she perched on the edge of the bed. “You must call me Pilar.”

  Then Mariska realized why these two were indulging in all this empty chatter. They were giving the poor invalid time to gather herself.

  Mariska felt a flush of indignation. She may have been out of control before, but that was no reason to treat her like a child.

  “I envy your mother, having a smart, resourceful daughter like you,” Martinez was saying. “I can’t have children myself—possibly a hitch in the early genmod procedure. Something to do with a lutropin deficiency. I trust that isn’t the case with you?”

  “No,” said Mariska. “Actually, Pilar, it hasn’t come up.”

  Martinez laughed. “I’m sure Nata is glad about that. It’s rare enough, but something to check.”

  “Natalya was saying that you had a request?” Mariska decided it was up to her to take charge of the conversation. “I don’t want to waste your time, Pilar. I know you must be busy.”

  “I am. Yes.” Martinez spread her fingers on Mariska’s bed, smoothing the top blanket. “So, we’re going to Planet D of 18 Scorpii system, your mother and I. It isn’t Bounty, but it’s a better world than Earth. We’re taking three hundred very productive people and a starship packed with advanced technology out of our economic system for the better part of twenty years. Our mission is going to cost…” She grimaced and held her palms outstretched. “Well, we try not to add up the cost. Somebody might find out.”

  Natalya chuckled, although Mariska guessed that this was an old joke, one that had been told and retold.

  “There are those who say this mission is a waste of precious resources,” said Martinez. “I think they’re damn shortsighted to say this, but there are many more of them than me. Colonization is still controversial. Just ask your Martian friend, Elan.”

  “You know Elan?” Mariska blurted this before she realized how foolish it was.

  “I like to keep up with my crew. A smart boy, Elan, a real asset.” Martinez aimed a forefinger at Mariska. “But I doubt he’ll contact you again on his own. If you’re interested in that one, it’s your move.” She winked. “Martians have their quirks.”

  Mariska colored. “Thanks.” How many of the crew knew about their little flirtation on the Padre? Then she realized that if the captain knew, everybody knew.

  “There are shortsighted people who are using your rescue as an excuse to attack us,” continued Martinez, “cut our funding, maybe even cancel the mission. I need to you to speak up on our behalf, and your own. And soon, Mariska.” Now that she had come to the point, Martinez grew intense. She seemed to fill the room, blotting all else out. “You were strong enough to survive a terrible tragedy.” It was almost as if they were sharing a mindfeed. “I believe you are strong enough for this.”

  “Pilar,” said her mother, “she needs time to—”

  “I understand.” Mariska cut her off. If Pilar Martinez believed in her, then who was Mariska to doubt herself? “I can do it.”

  “I know you can.”Mariska expected to be released from her scrutiny, but Martinez was not done. “And what are you going to say?”

  Mariska was taken aback. “The truth.”

  “The truth is a puzzle and many people have pieces of it.” She leaned forward. “I’m going to ask a hard question. Did you ever think you might survive and the others wouldn’t?”

  Drawing strength from the force of Martinez’s personality, Mariska was able to look at what most terrified her. “No,” she said. “It never crossed my mind.” Ever since she had come out of hibernation, she had been torturing herself with doubts about this. Saying it out loud gave her a sense of certainty.

  “What did you know about the rescue mission?”

  “Just that Sweetspot said they were coming.”

  “But when they told you that, it was a lie.”

  “Yes. I realize that now.”

  “How does that make you feel?”

  “Angry.”

  “Why?”

  She considered. “When the oxygen ran out, I would’ve been hibernating. I wouldn’t have known what was happening. The others, Glint, Didit, and Richard, they would have spent their last weeks waiting.” Her voice caught. “Waiting to die.”

  “Did you ask your mother to rescue you?”

  “No. Actually, we weren’t speaking.” Mariska tried to pretend that Natalya wasn’t sitting beside her. “She kept sending messages the entire time I crewed on the Shining Legend, but I never replied.”

  Martinez glanced over at Natalya for confirmation. “I admire you, Mariska Volochkova, for your courage.” She stood. “And for your honesty. I realize that it is not to be, but I would gladly have you on my crew.” She offered her hand to Mariska and they shook again. “As you say, I am busy. I’ll arrange for the news conference. Tomorrow?”

  Mariska ignored a stab of panic and nodded.

  “Don’t worry.” Martinez grinned. “The questions will be friendly. And brief. Nata, thank you.” Then the door slid open and she was gone.

  The room seemed to shrink in her absence. Mariska glanced over at Natalya, not knowing what to expect. Her mother’s face was glowing with gratitude. Was that a tear glistening in the corner of her eye?

  “Thank you, Mariska Volochkova.”

  She blinked in astonishment. “You’re welcome.” She looked down from the platform at the beaming woman from NewsMelt. It felt like they had just begun asking questions. Was there something she had forgotten? Maybe she should say that it had been a pleasure. But it hadn’t been, so she clamped her mouth shut.

  Then they started to clap. The Natividad’s crew started it. About thirty of them had gathered at the far edge of the utility mod to watch the news conference. Soon even the reporters were on their feet, applauding her. For what? Being alive? Mariska pulled her lips into something like a smile and waved at them.

  A reporter whose name she had forgotten stepped onto the platform and approached the podium. “Can I get your thumb?” He was a fingerprint fan; he pulled out an album the size of a deck of cards, opened it to a blank page and peeled back the transparent cover sheet.

  She dutifully pressed her thumb to the sticky surface, but was already scouting her escape route. Martinez had thought it best if Natalya wasn’t in attendance, hovering over her patient, so there was no one to fetch her away. But that had been the point of the news conference, hadn’t it? Mariska Volochkova could take care of herself.

  Then she spotted Elan, already turning to go. Head down so as not to make eye contact or start a conversation, she bumped through the knot of reporters. She caught him at the airlock.

  “Wait, Elan.”

  “Mariska.” Gasp. He pretended to be surprised, but his skinny smile gave him away. “You were great.”

  “Maybe. If I wanted to be a celebrity.” She leaned close and whispered. “Which I most definitely don’t.”

  “You need rescuing?”


  “I need a friend,” she said, brushing a hand across his back. “And a bathroom.”

  “Come to the Padre.” The eye reader flashed him and the door slid aside. “Carry you?” He held his arms out to her.

  “No, thanks.” She aimed him at the airlock. “I’m trying to quit.”

  Mariska had become much steadier on her feet in the last few days. Natalya had declared the regeneration of her damaged cerebellum successful. Now all she needed was rehab to let new connections spark. Mariska trotted down the poly tunnel to the Padre with Elan following behind. The tunnel was still freezing, a couple of degrees below 0o C in the Martian summer, but at least she was dressed for it this time.

  When she was ten meters from the Padre, she glanced over her shoulder. “Race you to airlock,” she called and started running. Elan came up easily beside her, laughing, but as they closed on the lander, she kicked the pace up another notch and slammed her hand against the hull first. “Beat you,” she cried.

  “I let you win.” Elan was hardly breathing.

  Mariska was doubled over, sucking huge gulps of frigid air. “Maybe….” She straightened and poked him in the chest. “Or maybe I let you think that you let me win.” When she laughed, the cloud of her breath curled toward him.

  They passed quickly into the Padre and up the ladder to the control deck. Corbet Brady was on duty. Mariska knew that he was one of Natividad’s two senior lander pilots; she had seen his cards when she looked Elan up.

  Brady wasn’t that much older than Mariska—twenty-five standard. Most of the crew, with the exception of the senior officers, were in their twenties or early thirties. His spacer uniform clung to well-defined muscles, so he must have grown up in gravity, although he didn’t have the grotesquely padded build of someone born on Earth. Was he handsome? She guessed he was, but a bit too polished for her taste.

  “Corbet Brady,” said Elan. “This is Mariska Volochkova.”

  “Our hero.” He waved the airscreen in front of him closed.

  “Not a hero,” said Elan.

  “Our celebrity, then.”

  “No.”

  “You’re picking on me again, Martian.” Brady tilted his head to the deck above in mock exasperation. “Almost six billion people just saw a brave performance that probably saved our mission.” He stepped forward and took her hand in both of his. “All right then, neither brave nor a star. But despite what Misery Boy here thinks of you, Mariska, nicely done.” He winked and let go. “That can’t have been easy.”

  “It went by so fast.” For some reason, Mariska didn’t know what to do with her hands. “I don’t really remember what I said.”

  “You were great.” Elan seemed alarmed that she might think otherwise. “She was great.”

  Brady ignored him. “So, here for the tour?”

  “Had it already.” Mariska decided to hide her hands behind her back.

  “She hasn’t seen the crew deck,” said Elan and a look passed between him and Brady.

  “What, asking for permission? Go.” He flipped a hand toward the ceiling hatch. “Go. Make yourself at home. And shake your girlfriend Neha out of bed. We just had Alpha pass-over. Beta at—” he peeked at the instrument complex “—16:37. Looks like supplycom wants us to catch the hook.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “I heard that.” Neha Bhatnagar, one of the junior pilots, scrambled down the ladder from the deck above them. She dropped past the last four rungs and bounded over to give Mariska a hug. “You were amazing. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She squeezed her hard.

  Surprised, Mariska said, “You’re welcome.” The girl released her grip and held Mariska at arm’s length. “I was going to take a nap instead of watching, but you had us from the very first. “You, you, you.” She raised her fists and crowed. “We won.”

  “We should have warned you,” said Brady. “Our Neha tends to be enthusiastic.”

  “Not my girlfriend,” muttered Elan.

  “Be nice to her, rookie,” teased Bhatnagar as they climbed the ladder.

  The crew deck had another set of lockers with foldout couches. There was a tiny galley and a table that might accommodate six if they were close friends. It reminded her of the Shining Legend, which was something she didn’t want to be reminded of. Elan pointed to the bathroom door, which was so narrow that she had to turn sideways to squeeze through. The bathroom was equally cramped. It was designed for use both planetside and upside in zero gravity, so there was a cleanser in place of a proper shower. The toilet had suction fittings which she was grateful she wouldn’t need in Mars’s gravity. While she was on it, her wristband flashed. Someone pinged her location, but did not leave a message. She assumed it was Natalya checking up on her. Would she be upset that Mariska was with Elan? As she rubbed her hands under the cleanser, she stared at the girl in the mirror. What was she doing here?

  Elan had set out a snack of goat cheese on slivers of flatbread, topped with olives and dried tomatoes. “From our own goats,” he said.

  She wasn’t hungry but she could tell that he wanted her to eat, so she did. On another day, in another place, she might have enjoyed it.

  “Something to drink?”

  “No thanks.” Somehow Elan’s eagerness to please depressed her. They had come all this way, and now she didn’t know what she had to say to him.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I’m tired all of a sudden.” She shook her head. “I think my adrenaline must be running out.”

  “You want to go back?” Gasp.

  In reply, she settled at the table, picked up another snack and examined it. “Goats?”

  “My parents keep goats.” He sat across from her. “Most Martians do. And we’re bringing frozen embryos to D.” Gasp. “A whole herd’s worth.”

  “D?” She frowned. “Oh, your planet—at 18 Scorpii.”

  The mention of the upcoming mission—and his departure—was a conversation killer.

  “You came to get me,” said Elan at last. “Back there.” Gasp. “Why?”

  “Captain Martinez said that I would have to make a move if I ever wanted to talk to you again.”

  He squirmed. “The captain said that?”

  She nodded. “So I made my move.”

  “Why do you want to talk to me?”

  “No reason. I just do.”

  He looked pleased.

  “You know,” she said, “on the Moon friends talk, but we also share thoughts. I offered you a feed once, but you closed your head.”

  He stiffened, but then she felt the tingle of an offer.

  =Is this good?= His feed was so weak she could barely make it out.

  =Sort of. You’re still closed off.=

  =A Martian thing. We keep ourselves to ourselves.=

  =Why? Keeping secrets?=

  “Not secrets,” he said, and started gasping as if he might pass out. Usually Elan’s face was like a mask, but now it slipped and she saw what sharing a feed had cost him.

  “Are you all right?”

  “No.” The gasping became laughter. “Yes.” It took a moment for him to get control of himself. “It’s just….” He pressed both palms to the table and closed his eyes for a few moments. “I’ve only done that with….” He took a deep breath and steadied. “…family.”

  “Oh.” Now it was Mariska’s turn to squirm. “I didn’t know.” Had she broken some Martian taboo? “Is that bad?”

  “Bad?” He stared down at his hands as if amazed that he still had all his fingers. Then he looked up, his smile as wide as she had ever seen. “I’m so happy.”

  The superpressure balloon was three kilometers above them, according to Elan. When Mariska peered up she could see a bright pinprick in a butterscotch sky. It was easier to see the scoop which hung from it, sailing across Escalante Crater toward them. The scoop was unreeling down its tie-line to get closer to the surface. Even though she was wearing an insulated EV suit, Mariska shivered. Elan squeezed her
hand; he was wearing just his uniform and a breather. The scoop skimmed lower and lower. Its wings looked sharp as knives. The rear propeller began to churn, acting as a brake. The flaps went up. Slower but still way too fast for Mariska. The fuselage hung beneath the wings; from where she stood it looked to be barely skimming the surface. A wide door slid open; the boarding step stuck out like a silver tongue.

  The EV suit felt like it was made of dough. She couldn’t possibly run fast enough in it to hop aboard.

  =Ready?= Elan’s feed was like an electric shock.

  =As I’m going to be.=

  =It’ll be down to six kilometers an hour. A slow jog.=

  Mariska felt her thigh muscles twitching.

  =If you miss, just fall flat. We’ll try another pass.=

  If the wings didn’t slice her in half. And here it was, zigzagging slightly, the door a yawning black hole.

  =Go.=

  And then she was running as fast as she could, trying to match speed with the scoop. As she closed on it she was surprised to feel backwash from the propeller, even in the thin atmosphere of Mars, but she threw herself forward and there was the boarding step. Jump up, hands on the grab bar, pull hard and she was in. She started laughing hysterically, even though no one could hear her. Because no one could hear her. A few seconds later Elan stepped calmly through the open door as if he were taking a stroll through the greenhouse. He put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her.

  =Yaaahhh.= In her excitement her head opened wide. They were probably picking her up in orbit. =Did it.=

  =You’re practically a Martian.= Elan was too much of a gentleman to probe. =But don’t go fizzy on me now.= He steered her deeper into the cabin and pointed to a grab bar. She remembered that when the pilot put the flaps down again and reversed the prop, the scoop would lurch forward, tugged along by the balloon. It was sailing the winds in the upper atmosphere. She wrapped one hand around the bar and gave him a thumbs up with the other.