part0104

“Maybe she’ll actually be useful for something on this mission then. She can fix the coffee maker while we do the real work,” Beatrice Martham tapped through her media feed as she talked. “That is, if she doesn’t wash out before then.”

Liu frowned. “That was unkind, Martham. Emery’s worked harder than anyone else during training. She’s got as much right to be here as anyone else.”

Martham sighed and turned toward him. “It’s not Emery . It’s that they’re considering sending an anthropologist on an exploratory mission. Her spot could go to someone more useful. An engineer or a meteorologist. What’s an anthropologist going to accomplish?”

Titov shrugged. “Maybe the uppers found evidence of some sort of civilization. Can’t hurt to have someone who knows how to interpret things— especially when we don’t know the language.”

“Oh, please. You don’t really think we’re going to find little gray men down there, do you? If there were an advanced civilization down there, we’d have seen signs, even with the interference. Lights, telecommunication signals, structures or roads. Something. ”

“And if there is civilization down there, but it isn’t advanced, it’s what? Not worth the bother?” Rebecca Emery emerged from the hallway and wandered over to the food printer. “We can just conquer the indigenous societies right? No need to come to a peaceful arrangement or attempt to understand them—”

“That’s not what I meant, but now that you bring it up, yeah, why shouldn’t we just conquer them? The Keseburg’s not a ship just out of the dockyard. We’re strung together with spit and good wishes at this point. Both the planet and the moon are large. If we find someone, we move, or they do. We’re past ‘playing nice’ or didn’t you get last month’s health census? Half the younger gen is Spindling—”

“Damn it!” yelled Titov, “I just want a cup of coffee, not a philosophy debate.” He smacked the side of the printer again. Emery crouched down to inspect the extruder. Martham shrugged and turned back to her console.

“Bad news?” asked Rebecca. She kept her voice low, fiddling with the printer’s supply lines.

“Peter is probably going to need a mobility suit before we get back. Celia and I— we’ve tried everything. He does more than the recommended exercise regimens every day, wears his Spindling suit constantly, we even moved to Reed ring a few years ago because the rotation slow-down wasn’t as bad. We knew we couldn’t beat it, but I thought he’d at least make it to fifteen before needing the suit.” Titov handed Rebecca his cup when she reached for it.

Liu squeezed Titov’s shoulder. “This time’s going to be the one, Andrei. I know it. I’ve got a good feeling about these missions. The captains are too worked up for it to be just another resource dive.”

Rebecca switched the printer back on and black liquid poured smoothly into the cup, followed by a spurt of sweetener. She handed the cup back to Titov.

“Thanks,” he said, turning red.

She smiled. “What can I say? I work well with spit and good wishes.” Titov made a face and Rebecca realized what she’d said. “Oh, I didn’t mean that . Not that I don’t wish you well, I do—” she stammered and then sighed. “There’s no spit in your coffee, Titov.” Idiot , she told herself, you’re supposed to be making friends.

But Martham snorted a laugh and Titov swallowed a gulp of coffee with a grin and the tension eased. The others slowly filtered in, some yawning, others bouncing knees or tapping fingers. It was a big day. Mission assignment day. Nearly fifty had completed the training but only twenty-four slots were open. Two missions, the first in two hundred years, to make an initial survey of the nearby exomoon and planet. Twenty-four people out of thirty thousand would have the chance to set foot on actual soil and stone for the first time in generations.

Rebecca was nervous. Despite Martham’s assumptions, she had not been a pet pick. She and her colleagues had spent months convincing Admiral Hastings to let her even try for one of the spots on the missions. Rebecca had worked harder than anyone to prepare, but her inclusion was still uncertain. It was up to the captains now. Captain Bruheim was out of the question, she wouldn’t even entertain Rebecca’s reasoning. Captain Stratton seemed hesitant, but he hadn’t dismissed her either.

She took a seat near Alice Oxwell and Nicholas Spixworth, the three naturally gravitating toward each other as the youngest potential candidates by several years. She picked at her uniform.

“Relax,” said Alice, “You’re one of the strongest candidates. I can pick out at least twenty that will wash today before you.”

“That’s still six people they have to cut. And I’m not a biologist or an entomologist.”

“Aw, I’ll let you help me collect the creepy crawlies, Emery. I know how much you like their tickly little legs.”

“Thanks, Spixworth. Now I have something else to worry about.”

He laughed and jabbed her side with his elbow. “C’mon, cheer up. Stratton likes you and he can see the value in having you around if we do encounter something we can communicate with. It’s going to be fine. Maybe you’ll even get lucky and they’ll put Martham in Bruheim’s crew.”

Rebecca smiled. “Let’s not push it…” She trailed off as the two captains entered the room. Captain Bruheim flipped her media filament up to her brow and her fingers flew through the air as she typed something in. Captain Stratton leaned against a table and resolutely stared above their heads.

“Your assignments are now available.” Captain Bruheim was brusque but not unkind. She just rubbed people the wrong way occasionally. “For those of you not chosen, the Keseburg is grateful for your service. And should either the planet or the moon prove to be the one, you will be the first crews to colonize. If one or more of the mission participants fall ill, you will be chosen to go in their place. You are dismissed.”

There was a murmur as people switched on their filaments and pulled up the assignments screens. Eyes flicked quickly as each candidate scanned images only they could see. “Good luck,” said Spixworth. Alice squeezed Rebecca’s hand and began scanning the document. Rebecca read it slowly, unwilling to come to her own name. Gradually, the room emptied around them as the unlucky departed. She held her breath as her name scrolled to the top and paused. Stratton’s crew. Rebecca was headed for the planet.

She was pleased to see Alice and Spixworth were on the same crew. The others were also familiar, they’d been mostly in the same training group. It made sense, they’d worked well together except for Martham’s occasional resentment and Titov’s quick temper. Liu, Al Jahi, and Leroux were all part of Stratton’s normal flight crew. It was no surprise to see them on the list. Martham and Oxwell for the biology department, Spixworth for entomology, Dr. Cardiff to keep them all sane, Blick for the botany— Rebecca knew it was really Blick that had allowed her to join. He and Alice had arguably the most vital jobs for the mission. He could easily have requested an assistant. Titov for the chemistry lab and— Rebecca stopped as she reached the last name. Dorothy Hackford, the geologist. They all knew she’d had difficulty with the psychiatric screening, some of the candidates had even whispered that Hackford had outright failed them. She was meant to be a standby, only. At best, a reluctant member of the moon crew. Rebecca looked over at her. Cardiff was speaking quietly to her, but Hackford was sweating and wringing her hands beneath the table.

Bruheim gathered her moon crew with a solemn handshake for each and sent them to the training courts for mission details. Captain Stratton waited until they’d left, still leaning against the table, his arms folded over his chest. “Get the door, would you Blick?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” said Lionel Blick, rising to close the door behind him. He came to sit closer to the others, bunching up near the front now that everyone else had gone.

Captain Stratton let a slow smile stretch over his face. “Congratulations planetary mission X-seventy-two. I got the pick of the bunch and I want you to know each one of you truly deserves to be here. We’ve got one more month to train, but I know you’re up for it.” He clapped his hands together. “But not today. And enough speeches. Who’s thirsty? First round at Zachery’s is on me!”

The room broke into easy laughter and conversation all around. Except for Hackford. She still sat frozen in her seat, except for her hands which had progressed to a relentless rubbing of her legs. Rebecca waited until the others rose and wandered away before plopping down beside Hackford.

“It doesn’t seem real. Almost an earth year we’ve been getting ready, and it’s finally here,” she said, not looking at Hackford, giving her a chance to recover.

“More,” said Hackford at last. “Our entire lives. And our parents. And their parents. All getting ready for this. Thousands and thousands of us. Why did they pick me ?”

“Because you are excellent at what you do. Because we need you.”

Hackford shook her head. “It should have been Paulo.”

“But it’s not Paulo, it’s you, Dorothy. It’s us .” Rebecca reached out and grabbed the other woman’s hand, squeezing it. “We’re going to walk on real dirt. Big mounds of it.”

Hackford laughed. “Hills, Emery. You mean hills.”

“Yes. Hills. And there’s going to be so much we won’t see the edge. No walls. No edge—” Rebecca stopped because Hackford had started hyperventilating. “It’s okay, Dorothy, it’s okay, lean forward—”

Hackford curled over her own knees, gasping.

“Slow down. It’s okay. Flaming core, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that— I’m so stupid sometimes.” Rebecca knew she was rambling but she wasn’t certain what to say. She wasn’t even certain which part had caused Hackford’s panic attack.

Hackford squeezed her hand. “I’m alright, Emery. Talking about it helps. Really. In a month I’ll have to physically step foot outside the Keseburg. I just need to get used to the idea.”

“Maybe— maybe you should talk to Dr. Cardiff about some medication.”

“We have. The microbursts through the feeds have been okayed, but nothing synthetic. Not until we know more about the surface.”

Why are they sending her? Rebecca wondered. “Not that I’m disappointed— I’m glad you are going to be on the crew with us— but why isn’t Paulo going?”

Hackford sat up and pulled a small kerchief from her pocket, wiping the sweat from her face as she calmed down. “Paulo’s daughter isn’t doing well,” she said.

“Yes, it has taken a turn for the worse. He formally pulled out of training a few months ago. And the other geologist— Belham, he just completed his apprenticeship. They wanted a non-Spindler with some experience who wasn’t already engaged in long-term resource extraction projects. So— that’s me.”

“Well— I’m glad you’re going with us, Dorothy. It will be nice to have a friendly face around.”

Hackford laughed. It was shaky but calm. “I think you’ll have more friends than you know, Emery, now that the competition for spaces is over. But come on, enough worry, this is supposed to be a happy day. Let’s go find the others and forget about Spindling and hills for a while.”