by Kate Rauner
Fynn frowned at the screen. So you think waking those Kin is worth the risk?
There was a pause before Drew's answer appeared. It's going to happen. Everyone wants to get the station spinning. It's zero-g up here, so gravity effects are worse than on Titan. We figure, there's a possible risk waking those levels and real health impacts on the Herschel's crew if we don't.
Fynn thought Drew, and maybe Liam, would be happy if he agreed with them. They'd be happier if Yash agreed, but no one would ever know what he might have said. Sounds like the best thing for the colony. Dad was cautious, but bottom line is, the colony must succeed.
There was a long pause before Drew's next message. I'm sorry I'm not there with you. But I can't come down. Besides, my permanent assignment is on the station. Ok?
Sure Drew, I know. Fynn smiled to himself. A sad, flat smile. Drew was his friend no matter what.
Liam won't say anything about waking more Kin right away, Drew's message read. Out of respect for Yash. But soon.
***
While Kin stomped out the endurance rally, the adjuncts carried Yash through the domes on a stretcher. Maliah called Fynn and he met them as they entered the greenhouse tunnel.
Maliah's eyes were red and swollen. "We're taking Dad to Black and White Hill, to lay with the other martyrs. Are you coming?"
Fynn fell in beside her with a nod. It was unreal, trying to stay solemnly close to the floor in Titan's low gravity. Passing the spot where their father had died, Fynn saw someone had removed the smashed fan and cleaned up the blood.
They donned suits and Fynn hauled fliers into the airlock. Outside, the adjuncts continued as pallbearers, flying upright in a tight formation. They banked away from the shore and crossed the colony's peninsula, a featureless brown plain under a murky sky, until they approached the dark lake on the other side. Black and White Hill was obvious and Fynn tilted his flier toward it without instructions. It was a narrow, jagged ridge a hundred meters high at its peak, very dark on one side and cleanly reflecting the orange sky on the other. Perhaps a large meteor had plowed into the surface there.
Eight bodies lay on level areas of the ridge, human manikins, their blank faces as orange as the sky. Yash was darker but seemed no more real lying rigid on his back under Titan's sky. Fynn turned away. The sight was unsettling and irrelevant. These weren't people anymore.
Maliah's voice came over the comm channel, startling Fynn out of his thoughts. "Do you want to say anything?"
"No. I already said goodbye."
Maliah launched into a speech and Fynn muted the channel. He preferred quiet and landed at the edge of the lake. Except for being a steeper slope, it was no different from the colony site. The lake extended to the nearby horizon in a smooth, dark expanse.
The return flight was faster since they rode their fliers like bullets. Fynn hovered low over the colony, certain to be below the radiation angling out of the reactor, and swiped thru spectra on his helmet display. He'd wanted to ask Yash about the warming ground around the fission dome, and now he never could.
Once inside, the adjuncts plugged their fliers into battery chargers instead of leaving the chore to Fynn and filed out at Maliah's heels.
Fynn was alone in the furnace dome. Rica and the others were doubtlessly still involved in the rally, so no one had checked the manual furnace settings all morning. Fynn wandered among the equipment and stopped by the controls. Looking past the consoles, he realized he was staring at the spot where Yash had died.
The camera monitoring the consoles had a wide field of view. It must have recorded the accident, the crash of the ceiling fan onto Yash's head. With a shiver, Fynn realized he had a record of that last instant. He yanked out the camera's memory wafer, slid a new one in its place, and pocketed the dismal recording. Maybe he'd look at it later, alone in his barracks.
***
The rally in Yash's honor continued, but Fynn snuck into his barracks to change into his red sweatshirt and lie on his bed alone. Maybe, now that Drew was gone, he should move in with other men. Ben's unit wasn't full. He shared with a couple friends, so there'd be a bed available.
Fynn ran a few furnace maintenance videos, but he couldn't concentrate. The memory wafer from the console was in the pocket of his coveralls, hanging behind his head. Fynn wasn't sure he wanted to see the fan fall, see his father die. But the recording haunted him.
He snapped the wafer into his flat pad. When the video started, it was full daylight. Half the screen showed console readouts of temperatures, pressures, flow rates, and a schematic with valve positions. The camera's lens also captured a view beyond the console, so half the screen showed pallets in the background, and occasionally someone walked by. Fynn increased the playback speed.
Readouts flickered, the pallets never moved, and eventually the lights dimmed as nighttime programming engaged. Fynn slowed the speed. His mother said the accident happened after midnight.
A group of figures moved into view. That was odd. No one should have been in the furnace dome. Fynn slowed to normal speed. Out of focus, in blood red shades that blended to black, five people stopped by a pallet, two in front and two behind a central figure slumping at the shoulders. After a few minutes, they shifted, and Fynn's father joined them. There was no mistaking his loose-limbed bounce or the flop of his sleeve as he raised an arm.
One figure faced Yash while others surrounded him and shoved him down. After a short pause, the lone figure walked out of view.
Someone separated from the group and Fynn held his breath. The person swung a short piece of rod. Yash went rigid for a heartbeat and dropped forward.
Fynn's pulse pounded. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen and trembled with an urge to run, to somehow help his father. The figures gestured and seemed to argue. No one bent to help Yash. Maybe he was still alive. Someone dragged a flier past the camera, then everyone left Yash lay, unmoving. The chronometer ticked off seconds until a fan smashed to the floor at the edge of the screen. The figures returned to stack pieces on Yash's body.
Fynn dropped the pad. He couldn't breathe.
His father had been murdered.
There had to be more video, some angle that showed the figures clearly under the red nighttime lights. Fynn opened the list of dome cameras and tried one after the other. They were all off-line the entire night.
Muscles quivering, he could hardly tap out a message. Mom, I've got to talk to you now. He vaulted from his bed and bounded across the dome, cutting through the mess hall to avoid the rally on his way to the clinic.
Greta jumped from her desk, wide-eyed. Running let his anger explode, so Fynn gasped as if he'd finished a marathon. He waved his pad at her and choked out the words. "Video. No accident. Dad was attacked." With a shaking hand, he slid the progress bar on the video and hit play.
White-faced, she took the pad and collapsed into a chair as she watched. She replayed the video and coughed to clear her throat. "That's Tanaka in the middle." Her voice was hoarse. "And the adjuncts. Magnus. I'm sure it's Magnus who struck him."
Her jaws tightened. She dropped the pad and clenched her fists.
"All the dome cameras were shut off," Fynn said. "I checked. This is the only video."
Greta's pale face reddened. "A conspiracy."
"We've got to tell everyone," Fynn said. "Push the video out to every device in the domes."
"No." Greta buried her face in her hands. "Not yet. Give me time to think."
"About what?"
"About the Kin. The colony." She jerked to her feet. "The Kin are dependent on Tanaka."
"It was Magnus who killed Dad."
"Magnus is nothing but a living weapon." She waved a hand, dismissing the adjunct, and continued in a tightly controlled voice. "It was Tanaka. But we must be careful. Kin left everything behind. Everything that grounded us in reality. Even truth. The only thing familiar here is Tanaka's speeches, the rallies, and barracks life. People died in stasis, and now Yash. Death scares people,
and they're clinging to Tanaka as a lifeline. On Titan, what Tanaka says is more important than what they see and hear."
"People won't believe a video?"
"Videos can be faked." Greta paced, bouncing her hands off the walls at each turn. "Titan is your father's life work. He was willing to die for this colony."
"Willing to die, but not willing to be murdered."
Greta stopped, took Fynn by both shoulders, and looked straight into his face with fierce eyes. "This isn't over. But I can't think yet. For now, keep this a secret. Just you and me. Promise."
Fynn gaped his mouth, searching for words that wouldn't come. She shook him, and he nodded. His father's loss overwhelmed him and his knees gave way. They hugged each other tight.
"Go back to your barracks," Greta said. "It's time for me to give Tanaka his evening injection."
Fynn's eyes widened. "You can't go up there. Not after what he's done."
"It's the only way to keep what we've seen a secret."
"I'll go with you."
"No. We should act normally. That's why you should go to your barracks. Try to sleep." She smiled a flat, tight-lipped smile. "I'll make you a promise. This isn't over."
Chapter 22
T he dome lights had dimmed to red, but no one had stopped to reverse the setting and the rally continued. Kin hopped around vacuum bots that, confused by a sea of feet, spun slowly in place while surrounded and then trundled off through openings in the crowd. Greta listened to the music's beat in her ear and watched the Kin move like shadows in the deepening darkness. Obscured. Like her own feelings must be.
As a doctor, she'd perfected this skill. Horror at injuries, panic when things went wrong, helplessness over illness beyond curing. She controlled such reactions with a professional demeanor. Force the body to act calmly and the mind would follow.
Greta relaxed her face, gripped her bag, and hopped up the stairs three at a time.
Maj greeted her when Greta knocked. She leaned close. "He's worse today. More pain." Tanaka sat on the sofa, his face pinched and his skin pale and gray.
Thumping sounds from feet on the playing field penetrated the door in time with Greta's heartbeat. She bit her lip. Tanaka deserved to feel pain, but her face showed only concern for a patient.
"Ah, Doctor Lund." Tanaka raised himself on one elbow and waved her over. "Your injections do not last the day. You must give me more."
"I already give you the maximum..."
"More!" His voice rose shrilly. "Must everyone argue with me?"
Maj, standing at Greta's side, smoothed the front of her coveralls. Magnus rose from his chair, flexing his hands. He thought to intimidate her.
A red wave coursed through Greta's mind and her voice caught in her throat. She stared into the cold gray eyes of the man who'd struck Yash dead. A smile touched the corners of her mouth, and she pressed her lips flat to hide it. "Very well."
She dropped her bag into an empty chair, one that allowed her to turn her back to them all as she felt for the injector. Her pulse raced when her fingers touched the smooth, cold cylinder.
She rotated the dial that controlled dosage, shifted the bag as if she needed a better look, and rotated it again.
Her fingers trembled and she drew in a long, slow breath. Her decision made, her muscles relaxed and her skin cooled.
Still with her back turned, she held the injector up high enough for everyone to see and adjusted the dial with a thumb. Barely a quarter turn.
"You should go straight to bed," she said as Tanaka rolled up his sleeve. "This is going to knock you out."
His sigh merged with the hiss of the injector. "Thank you, my dear."
Greta clung to her cold resolve and refused a cup of tea, saying they should all leave immediately so Tanaka could sleep.
She prayed her legs would carry her to the door, and they did. She moved slowly down the stairs, guiding herself with a hand on the rail, and suppressed the urge to run.
Her medics were on the playing field, stomping out the march with the rest of the Kin, but Greta hurried to her office without pausing to check patients spending the night in the clinic.
She shut the door gently, dropped to her knees, and pounded her fists into a chair cushion. Over and over, until finally she tilted her head up, a fierce smile on her face. Perhaps as a doctor, she could do no harm. But as a lover, as a widow! She couldn't bring Yash back, so vengeance was all she had left. Vengeance in her heart and death in her hand. Tanaka had issued a death sentence that left her desolate, and grief flooded Greta's heart. She breathed the sobs through an open mouth, trying to be silent.
"No one will ever know. Yash. Tonight is for you. Kin, kin, kin." She whispered the chant out loud.
***
Fynn's flat pad hung in his coveralls, in a pocket right by his head, so the alarm jolted him from bed. He thrashed out of the tight covers.
The screen flashed red and Magnus' voice spoke. "We have terrible news. Come to the tower immediately."
From the end of his barracks, Fynn saw medics at the mess hall counter and three adjuncts standing along the tower wall, not on the balcony as usual, but down on the floor. Strange behavior for adjuncts. They talked to individuals and small groups, who collapsed into chairs in the mess hall or stared slack-jawed.
Fynn looked for Maliah but didn't find her. His skin tingled as he approached the nearest medic. "There's been a tragedy," she said. "Doctor Tanaka was found dead this morning. Dead in his bed. He never woke up."
Suddenly dizzy, Fynn swayed, and the medic dumped him into a chair. "I'm all right," he said mechanically. If his thoughts could kill, Magnus would have died, and there'd be no massive grief or confusion over him. But his mother had been right - Tanaka had been a lifeline, and each person turned away from the medics in despair.
Fynn lingered close to the medic and, when two women approached, he could hear their questions. "We don't have details," the medic said. "Doctor Lund is in the tower now, and we'll keep you informed."
His mother. Fynn's insides went cold. She'd said to wait, to think, to keep their secret. She couldn't have done this.
The flat pad blinked again, and this time Maliah's voice spoke. "Our dear Doctor Tanaka succumbed to stasis sickness. He is our ultimate martyr. Don't scatter to your barracks. Kin are strong together. Come to the playing field. Rally in his honor while we prepare to carry Doctor Tanaka to a hero's rest."
People who'd headed for the barracks swung toward the field, and those at the tables poked their friends and rose on trembling legs.
Fynn clutched his flat pad in his lap. It was still blinking red, but a tiny icon hugged one corner. A text from the Herschel waited. No one was watching him. He held the pad close and opened the text.
The message came from Drew. We got Maliah's announcement. Stasis sickness got the old bird. What's going on down there?
Everyone's crazy. Rallied all night and starting again in Tanaka's honor.
Crazy here too. Our medics panicking about effects of zero-g.
Because Tanaka died? He's on Titan not in space.
We all went through stasis like he did, and living in zero-g is worse than living on Titan. Half the guys here say their vision's gone fuzzy.
Fynn tried to count months in his head. Astronauts stayed in that old space station longer than the Herschel's crew has been in orbit.
If the Herschel's medics were scared, Fynn wondered if Drew would suffer another panic attack. But his answer came without delay. Doesn't matter. They're going to wake all the center pod levels, the one blocking spoke installation.
What would Yash say? What about going slow? One level at a time?
Drew added, getting station spinning is top priority.
Fynn circled the kitchen to pass by the clinic and peek inside. Only three people slept in the treatment rooms, but his mother wasn't there. He wanted to tell her about the Herschel waking more Kin. She was still in the tower, he supposed, and he couldn't look for her there. Couldn'
t bear the thought of being in a room with Magnus. His mother was stronger, and he was afraid for her.
He continued along the dome wall, planning to join the last row of Kin. They were already lining up, arms interlaced at shoulder level, barely shuffling a standing march. Fynn was thankful for the slow pace. He couldn't get enough breath into his lungs to support his racing heart. It left him dizzy and he gripped the person next to him.
Fynn looked over his shoulder to the tower. Maliah stood on the balcony, pumping her fist. He couldn't hear her over the roar of hot air, flowing in above him from the fission dome. The group stepped to the right, towing him along.
***
Drew perched on a counter in the Herschel's crew quarters where the pilots and medics had gathered. He asked no one in particular, "What are we going to do?"
Erik, a sharp-eyes medic who kept his hair cropped short, replied. "Awaken three level of Kin so we can weld the station spokes into place."
"What about going slow, one level at a time?"
Erik drifted to the coffee machine. His opinions often prevailed and the others waited while he started a batch brewing. "I know that was the plan," he said once the machine began gurgling. "I agreed at the time. But completing the space-station configuration has to be top priority. We need centrifugal gravity as soon as possible."
Evan was usually jovial, but the pilot looked grim today. "I'm with Erik. Too much has gone wrong already."
Liam raised a hand. "Are we agreed?" Heads nodded all around. "Then, Erik, start preparations as soon as you can. I'll let Greta Lund know. Who wants to take a shuttle to retrieve her and the surface medics?"
"I'll go," Tyra said. "We don't need a cargo bay full of passenger berths for them."
Drew didn't see any way to argue for Yash's slower approach, and he wasn't sure he favored it anyway. "I'll start loading food buckets into Evan's shuttle."
