Warp Resonance

by Cedar Sanderson

  The last day when Dave came up from the fields for his lunch she was sitting on the step, holding the fat gray cat in her lap. He could hear the purring from all the way across the lawn, but Lissia looked disturbed.

  “What is wrong?”

  “There is a bird in the porch. The poor little thing, it is fluttering at the windows and I am afraid it will break a wing, or its neck.” She stood up and followed him inside. “I tried to get it outside, but it just flies away from me and to the next window.”

  He nodded. They went into the porch after shutting the cat into the parlor, and he saw the hummingbird at the window next to the door, battering frantically at the glass. Moving slowly, he closed the blinds one by one, working his way around to the bird. It hovered, confused, in the middle of the room for an instant, then as Dave opened the door it saw the sunlight and made a beeline for freedom. They stood there in the dim room for a minute in silence, the man and woman, the blinding sunlight outlining him as he looked out the door. She walked to his side. “Dave?”

  “Lissia.” He choked out, feeling the tears coming into his eyes. “Lissia, I can’t marry you and give you babies. I want to. God knows how I want you.” He was holding her hands now, tears streaming down his face. She was staring speechlessly up at him. “But if I tie you to the farm, to the earth, you will be like that little lost bird, trapped until all the fight goes out of you, and I can’t do that to you.”

  She stared at him for so long he began to think he had made a mistake. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” He began.

  “Damn.” she said unemotionally. She let go of his hands and walked out the door. She stopped on the front step, looking up into the sky. “They say,” she began quietly, conversationally, “that after years of marriage a couple begins to be able to read one another’s minds. We have managed to accomplish it in just a week.” Now he could hear the pain, the tight control in her voice that made it so icy. “You are right, you know. I was going to call and tell them tonight that I couldn’t do it. There would be a big hullaballoo, but they would have found someone else, eventually.”

  “Lissia.”

  She turned to him, and he could see it in her face. “Ten years - maybe as many as thirteen” she grated out. “Just me. There isn’t room for anyone else. And I will be under most of the time. That is the real reason for the nanobots. They can keep my body whole while I am in a drug-induced coma. But I know it will be lonely. And I also know I will be a pioneer. It is what I have dreamed of all my life. I knew there wasn’t anywhere on earth I could make great discoveries, so I trained to be an astronaut. That looked like it was going nowhere, but I was determined. I brought a couple of friends in propulsion and particle research together, and the FTL drive was born. I was ruthless in my competition to be the pilot. I pushed myself to the limit, and beyond.”

  “Lissia.” He cradled her cheeks in his hands. “I know. I know that drive at the core of you is not for me. I can’t take it away, whether by asking you to give it up, or by passive means, such as marrying you and making you pregnant. Yes, I thought of it.” he said to her raised eyebrow. “I haven’t slept much the past two nights. I just found you, and I must let you go again.”

  “Dave.” She leaned into his arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to say anything.”

  “I know.”

  She sighed after a moment, and then stood away from him. They went inside, and he opened the blinds and let the sunshine back in. She went into the kitchen, and brought out a tray with lunch on it. They ate quietly, talking only of his work that morning in the gardens, and when he was finished he apologized, but had to go back out to work. She took the tray and dishes back into the kitchen and washed up, listening to the quiet of the house around her. When she was done with the homey task she went to the phone and looked at it for a long moment. Then she firmed her chin and picked it up.

  At dinner that night, she told them that she would be picked up that evening. “I just can’t stay longer.” she told Tara. “I have to start Simulations day after tomorrow. It has been blissful, but I’ve already stayed too long.”

  When she went upstairs to pack, Dave came up and leaned in the doorway, watching her. When she looked up at him quizzically, he blushed. “I’m making a mental picture.” he smiled. “I mean to think of you often, you know.”

  “I know. I mean to think of you, too. Thank you.”

  He didn’t need to ask for what. He just crossed the room and held her in his arms for a long moment. They heard the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway, and he felt her heart leap. Resolutely, he released her, and she picked up her bag.

  “I don’t have anyone else,” she said quietly. “May I write to you?”

  “Yes, of course. More than once a year, I hope.”

  She laughed. “Yes, I’ll send you a message every time they wake me up - at least twice a year!”

  They went downstairs and outside, where a solemn man in Air Force blue was waiting for her. He opened the trunk for her, and Dave opened the car door for Lissia. She stood next to it for a minute, one hand on his where it lay on top of the door. Then she leaned forward and kissed him, gently, on the lips.

  “May I come home to you?”

  “Yes.”

  He stood in the dark for a long time, watching the red lights dwindle down the long driveway. Then he looked up into the night sky. The stars seemed closer tonight, close enough to touch. He lifted up a wondering hand, fingers outstretched.

  End

  Girl Talk

  Christie had her hand in hot, soapy dishwater when the s'radio squelched loudly. She jumped and shrieked, splashing water on her husband.

  "Hey! honey, you need to relax!" he chided her over his shoulder as he headed to the radio. "CQ, CQ, Martin Homestead here." he called into the handset.

  After he called, he set the handset down and rejoined her at the sink, drying for her. The space radio was their contact with the universe, literally, but it was likely that the ship calling in was far enough out to have a significant delay in response. There was plenty of time to finish the dishes. In fact, Christie was in the other room, tucking the children into bed, when the response came back.

  "Martin Homestead, this is the U-triple-S Conestoga, military tasked, passing through with your mail. We will be in LO in about ten T-hours."

  Tom looked at the wall clock. That meant that it would be the middle of the night local time. The day on their new planet had taken a lot of adjusting to, a third longer than an earth day. The children, born to the rhythms of a new world, didn't seem to notice, but he and Christie did. Their mail, and the rest of the planet's, no doubt, would be coming down in a shielded capsule to his homestead because it was the most visibly marked from space. He sighed, and picked up the handset.

  "Martin Homestead to Conestoga, thank you and talk to you closer to time. I need a couple hours warning so I can get the light aircraft up to intercept the capsule."

  The idea was to capture the drogue of the capsule with a special hook on his lightcraft, and thus slow it and bring it down where he could find it. He had done it three times in the last six years, and he had a lot of preparation to do. Christie came into the room. She was carrying a basket of laundry to be folded.

  "Hi, sweetie," he greeted her absently, pulling up the remote weather sats on the computer desk.

  "Hey, who is it?"

  "The Conestoga. Military, but nice enough to swing by and drop off the mail. I'll have to take out the lightcraft tonight to pick it up, are you ok here?"

  She leaned over to kiss the top of his head. "Of course. Does this mean we'll be getting visitors soon?"

  He looked up at her. Her deep blue eyes showed her tentative eagerness at the idea. "Maybe. But Julie can't come, you know that."

  She nodded. "I know, but it would be nice to have company, no matter who it is."

  She set the basket down and headed into the kitchen, no doubt to pack him some snacks. He turned back to the scre
en. Plotting raw weather data was tricky - more of an art than a science, even with the satellites.

  In the kitchen, Christie deftly wrapped the flat bread around sandwich fillings, trying not to cry into the food. She knew Julie couldn't fly right now. She was either too pregnant or had just had the baby by this time. But she was the only other woman in this hemisphere, and Christie's best friend. Christie straightened her back and tried to convince herself for the umpteenth time that Tom was all the adult company she needed. She failed utterly, and wiped her face on the towel over the sink before she left the room. Tom had enough to worry about without her adding to his burdens.

  Night was falling outside when Tom finished caring for the stock and tramped back in to get ready to go get the mail. Christie had finished the laundry and was up to her elbows in flour and dough, preparing for their potential guests. He kissed her, and picked up the knapsack she had waiting for him, calling as he stepped out the door "See you in the morning!"

  Christie cried into the bread, hoping the extra salt wouldn't retard the yeast.

  When all her work was done, she unbraided her hair and brushed it out, then braided it up again. She changed into nightclothes and sat on their bed for awhile, but did not feel like sleeping. Finally, in the middle of the night, she crept over the the s'radio and picked up the handset.

  "Martin homestead to Conestoga." she called.

  "Conestoga here, drop will be in one T-hour." a male voice came back, noncommittal, mere seconds later. They must be in very close now...

  "Thank you, Conestoga. Is... is there a woman aboard I could talk to?"

  In the courier hurtling through space far over her head, the communications officer sat back a moment and thought. That must be the homesteader's wife. He'd be out in his little lightcraft, waiting for his package, so she must be feeling lonely. He shrugged. No harm in indulging her wish for gossip.

  "Hold on, Martin Homestead."

  He stood up in his niche and looked out into the bridge, trying to catch the XO's eye. She saw him and moseyed over, a curious look on her face. "What's up?"

  "Got the lady of the house down below on the radio, wanting a little gossip. Care to chat?"

  "Good Lord." Geri Strow thought about it for a minute. "I suppose it couldn't hurt."

  He handed a set of headphones to her. "It's the Martin Homestead."

  "Conestoga to the Martin Homestead."

  Christie, in the dimly lit room, had almost given up hope of reply. She stared for a moment, then picked up the handset and squeaked "Martin Homestead, Christie Martin here."

  "Hello, my name is Geri. How are you?"

  "I'm well, just lonely," she confessed to the unseen contralto. "I rarely get to talk to anyone besides my husband."

  "Really? I thought you had satellites?"

  "Yes, but the majority of the colony is on the other side of the world, and the reception is spotty. We all get together twice a year, but there were unseasonable floods last year, so it has been a year without Gathering."

  "Wow. I don't think I could live that way." Geri looked around her at the crowded bridge room. There were only five people in there right now, but there were two hundred aboard the ship, and she knew and saw almost all of them on a daily basis. The isolation of the other woman was mindboggling. "Do you have children?"

  "Yes, three. Twin boys, aged four T-years, and a baby girl, about a T-year and a half. They keep me busy, but aren't much for conversation."

  "I can imagine. And your husband?"

  "Oh," Christie hastened to assure her, "He's wonderful, and takes great care of me, but... sometimes a woman's voice..." she trailed off.

  Geri sat quietly, listening to the other woman and wondered what it would be like to hear only one other voice for a year. "What is life like down there? I've never visited a newly colonized planet."

  "Oh, it isn't bad. This was the first planet to be terraformed, you know, and we are introducing the first animals to it again, so there are no big beasts to be afraid of, and no biting insects, but it is hard work. I do without most of the amenities most civilized worlds take for granted - I wash my clothes and dishes by hand, we have no running water in the way you would think of it... we don't have an indoors bathroom."

  "Now I know I couldn't live that way!" Geri laughed.

  "It isn't that bad." Christie giggled back. "It find it very satisfying to make all our food, and clothes, and to have no outside worries beyond keeping house."

  "Did you have a career before you came there?"

  "Not really. Tom and I married right after university. I went for English, but switched to agronomics after I met him and knew I was going to marry him. What do you do?"

  "I am the executive officer. I basically keep the Captain from drowning in paperwork and stand watches so he can get some sleep." Geri oversimplified, knowing the minutiae of her life didn't matter. "Missions last about three years, usually, so the people aboard become very close - like a family."

  "How nice. I sometimes feel like my world has closed down to four walls and my brain is atrophying from lack of use. It must be wonderful to have discussions with your peers everyday. I remember in university that I sometimes felt like I learned more just talking after hours with classmates."

  "Yeah... but at least when you need a breath of fresh air you can step outdoors. Nothing but vacuum around me." Geri sighed, putting into words feeling she never acknowledged.

  "And no civilian clothes, I'll bet."

  Geri laughed. "No, no nightlife aboard ship. I am single, but you don't get involved with crewmates if you can help it."

  Christie, in her cozy room with its foundation in good dirt, thought about that. She had Tom's comforting solidity every night, and his support when she needed help. "It must be hard, to be all on your own like that."

  "Not really. I like my independence. I can't imagine living dirtside for long. Up here, I am going somewhere and doing something. A husband would no doubt want me at home to keep the place clean and cozy."

  "Not the right one, I am sure," Christie replied, thinking of her marriage. Tom had been willing to give up his dream to allow her to stay on Earth, near her friends and family, but she had wanted to be his helpmate in truth, not just words.

  "Ok, maybe not, but I haven't met Mr. Right yet."

  The lag was growing longer, a couple of moments now. They were slipping through the void and away from her new friend. Geri knew she should let Christie go, but she sat and waited for the reply.

  Christie's laugh pealed out, echoing in her ears. "Oh, you will! Don't give up! And Thank You! I needed to be reminded how blessed I am. You have your friends and family with you, and I have my frontier to conquer. I think we can both do it. Send me a letter when you catch him!"

  "Sure thing! You keep on with what you are doing. Pioneer mothers are something special - always have been. Conestoga signing off."

  Geri slipped the headphones off and handed them back to the comm officer, who was playing a game on his console, bored. She stretched her back out and headed back to the Captain's chair, scanning the quiet room as she went. No commotion anywhere - Deep space is a lonely, quiet place, and rarely was her routine interrupted.

  Christie, far behind and below her now, hung the handset up and went into the kitchen to make a snack for Tom, a smile on her lips. The house seemed more like a home suddenly, wrapping about her like a warm shawl.

  Girl-Bug-Cat

  Susan stared at the alien... thing, and was suddenly glad she lacked the ento-phobia so many of her cohort seemed to share, Or whatever the word for fear of insects was. Granted, she’d always thought it exceedingly silly for them to run screaming from a harmless beetle, and whatever this was... she stared into the mouth full of chitinous teeth arranged in a diminishing cone, rather like looking down a lethal funnel. If you were going to run screaming from a bug, this was it.

  She couldn’t move. Her mouth was dry and her knees trembled. The bulging iridescent eyes glowed with some inner
light, and never left her face. Susan tried to swallow, but there was nothing there. Two little appendages on one side of the monstrosity moved, and when they rubbed together, a questioning chitter sound happened. Definitely questioning, it rose to the interrogative note she associated with... Two larger limbs moved, and she startled, almost jumping out of her skin.

  The creature pulled a bag she hadn’t noticed, slung around the nodes of its body, forward and reached into it. Now, Susan was curious and lost the need to run. It would have killed her already, had it been going to, while she stupidly stood frozen in fear in front of it. But taking a notebook out of a canvas messenger bag with a familiar human logo was... not scary.

  Her legs, perversely, started to tremble more as the insecto-alien thing... she really wished she had a better classification for it... started to write on the notebook page. It wasn’t using a pen, she didn’t think it could hold a pen in that pincer-claw, but instead a dark substance flowed from one tip of the appendage. It wrote very quickly, then held out the notebook toward her, so she could see the words.

  Susan reached for the book, but it pulled it slightly back, and she got the idea she wasn’t to touch. She didn’t need to hold it, anyway, the alien wrote in large, neat block print.

  “My name is Prrittica.” She read aloud, then looked at the glowing eyes. The creature nodded it’s head-node slightly. Susan looked at the page. “My ink is poison, do not touch. Can you help me?”

  The alien-bug chittered again, and she thought she understood where the name had come from. That sounded like Prrittica.

  “You know how to write, ‘cause you can’t talk.” Susan theorized out loud, and Prrittica nodded again. “And you write pretty well, too. So someone taught you to read and write.”

  Again, a nod and a chitter. The notebook was again being written in. Susan found it disconcerting to realize that Prrittica didn’t look down while writing, just kept looking at her face.

  “Can you help me?” She read again. “I don’t know,” she answered. “What do you need?”