Lights blinked in the darkness. Small and in myriad colours, flickering throughout the night. Most were natural, though increasing numbers were human made – the Lagrange stations orbiting Earth and Sol, the Jupiter orbitals, the Martian relays, the scientific stations around Neptune and Pluto. All built in the last hundred years for assorted reasons, the most important being pure human curiosity and pig-headedness. If nature tells you not to live somewhere, you tell nature to fuck off and you live there anyway. The age old tale, and driving force, of the human race.
Lights blinked in the darkness. One of them was called the Pevensie, and on board the Pevensie, lights were blinking as well. The ship had recognised that it had reached Earth space, and so decided that it had been lonely long enough. It travelled alone between the assorted stations and places of the Sol system. The ship’s crew spent their time between worlds sleeping in cryostasis, an artificial state of slumber keeping their youth while they spaced the years.
Lights flashed before Anna’s eyes as she blinked and shivered in the stale air. Her sight took only a short moment to adjust to being awakened again after six months asleep. The cold of cryo wore off quickly, but the cold of a ship only just warming up again after months in space was far harder to shake-off. Still shivering, she half-heartedly pushed her way up and out of the cryo-cap, sending herself drifting across the room. More through luck than design, she bumped against her own locker. Grabbing at the handle to stabilise herself, she toggled the lock and made a grab for something warmer than the underwear she slept in. She couldn’t pull on her jumpsuit fast enough. The metal zip was chill against her, but she pulled it up full before thrusting her hands deep into the pockets. Hugging herself close, she glanced over towards the other capsules to see who else was awake. George was still asleep, but everyone else’s caps were empty and going through their cleaning routines. Anna rubbed at her eyes, trying to chase away the small yellowy sparkles which were sprinkled through her peripheral vision.
A whistling noise heralded someone’s entrance into the room, and Swan’s voice revealed who it was.
“I see you’re all woke up now.”
Anna nodded numbly as she closed her locker.
“Come on up deck, much warmer up there.”
Swan smiled and rotated on the spot, reaching for handholds along the wall as she propelled herself out of sight. Anna pulled her interface glove out of the little belt pouch it lived in and strapped it around her wrist, the thin straps settling into position encircling her fingers. She touched the small screen and it activated, tiny indicators blinking as it pinged the ship’s network for the time, interrogated the small chip embedded in her arm for her health, and contacted her cryo-cap to retrieve her sleeper dosage. Satisfied, Anna kicked off from the wall, sending herself pirouetting through the cold air towards the door. She caught hold of the railing that circled it with all the grace of a drunken ballet dancer, and shook her head. The drugs hadn’t quite worn off yet. She steadied herself before following Swan’s lead up the corridor. The metal handholds were freezing and she gasped as she grabbed the first one. On the bright side though, the chill helped her shake off the effects of the sleepers easily, and she was awake and alert by the time the handholds and the air warmed up. The bridge and engineering were always set to warm up first – sleeping quarters didn’t rate as highly on the importance scale, much to the annoyance of everyone on board.
She drifted towards the bridge door as it irised open before her, and she blinked at the sudden influx of light. The sun was obviously up.
“Aha, sleeping beauty. Took your time waking up today.”
“Sorry. I was just so very comfy.”
Zac grinned.
“Yeah, yeah, we’re gonna have to swap caps then. Mine’s a piece of shit. Anyhow, as you can see, we’re home…” he gestured towards the vista dominating the front of the bridge, “so it’s wakey-wakey time.”
Anna wasn’t really listening. She was transfixed, as she always was, by the view. Earth hung there in space, aglow in the midst of a sunrise. The Pacific Ocean stretched out for as far as she could see – on the horizon she could just make out the edge of North America as clouds wound their myriad patterns across the shoreline. Much closer was Tsiolkovsky Station, the largest of man’s spaceborne creations – a two-mile O’Neill tube, spinning in the Earth’s shadow. As Anna watched, it edged out into the sunlight, an ocean of solar panels lighting up in a wash of dark blue.
She smiled.
“Home sweet home.”
The captain glanced at her with one of his wry smiles.
“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to park there sometime soon.”
Anna made a show of a mock salute, before kicking off from the railings by the door, pushing herself through the air towards the front of the bridge. She grabbed the headrest of the pilot’s seat – her seat – and pulled herself to it, before strapping down. She glanced again up at the huge viewscreen across the wall in front of her, and then back down at her console.
“Hey Pevensie, how’re ya doing?” she whispered. She gently stroked the lion the captain had scratched into the metalwork for good luck, and flicked a series of switches down the left side of her station. She nodding with satisfaction at the resulting readouts.
“That’s my girl,” she finished with a smile.
As she did, Swan strapped herself down into her own station and began her checks. The captain pushed off towards the exit.
“I assume I can leave you girls in charge? You won’t crash and kill us all?”
“Not this time Zac. Girl Scout’s honour. Piss off and let us dock.”
He paused.
“Do girl scouts even have an honour?”
“Out.”
He grinned as he glided away down the corridor. Swan gestured obscenely in his direction as the door closed behind him.
“Right, now he’s gone…” she said, turning back to her station and lifting her headset.
“Hello, Tsiolkovsky Control? ITV Pevensie to Tsiolkovsky Control?”
Anna couldn’t hear if there was a reply, but since she knew Swan wasn’t given to carrying on conversations with herself, she presumed there had been. The small light that came on a few moments later to indicate that the ship was receiving docking instructions vindicated her belief. She brought up the flight sticks, prepared the engines for their approach. Docking at Tsiolkovsky wasn’t hard – there was enough room inside for three military cruisers – but it never hurt to be cautious, especially in space.
The docking instructions called for her to put in at blue‑9, one of the heavy cargo offload points, and indicated that it was quite close to the opening of the docking tube. This would be even easier than usual. Almost automatically, Anna lined the Pevensie up with the gaping maw of the station, gently nudging the controls until the ship assured her that they were spinning at the same rate as the station. That done, she took a quick moment to glance up at the cam feeds from the outside of the ship, watched the stars spinning lazily by.
“I love my job.”
“What was that, hun?” Swan asked, yanking her headset down off her ears.
“Nothing. We good to go?”
“Yup, nice and shiny, TC says we have permission to dock.”
“How very kind…”
But Anna wasn’t really paying attention. Her mind was now focused entirely on the dials and numbers displayed in front of her, and the two joysticks controlling the ship’s innumerable retro rockets. She nudged the left forwards, sending the ship in the same direction, the right joystick moving ever so slightly downwards. The retros on the upper hull fired accordingly. Moving at a crawl, Anna slipped the Pevensie snugly into its berth, locking the ship down onto the docking ring. She waited until she heard the safe connection alert from the unoccupied environmental station, and then felt the shudder as the large bay doors closed behind the ship. Much easier to unload cargo if there’s no chance of it spiralling off into space on a whim.
Anna unbuckled herself and stood up, the gravity generated by the station’s spin a welcome relief – Zero-G was fun, but nothing beat being able to stretch your legs properly. Wandering past Swan, Anna tapped her shoulder, then gestured towards the door, and, through that, to the corridor beyond leading to the engineering and cargo bays where the rest of the crew were no doubt preparing to unload the ship. Swan nodded and gave a thumbs up, and looked as though she were about to say something when she suddenly half turned and began listening intently to her headset.
Anna was making her way to the iris when Swan took her ’set off again.
“Hey, Anna! Got the usual messages from station mail, like always. There’s an important message for you.”
Anna turned to look at her, slightly confused.
“They said it’s about your husband…”
* * *
“Passengers waiting to board CPV Dwarf Star leaving for Mars are reminded to have their boarding passes and luggage ready for inspection. Anyone with special requests pertaining to cryosleep is advised to speak to a member of the crew at least an hour before departure. Thank you!”
“Docking handlers required in bay green‑4.”
“Crewmembers of ITV Serenity are requested at…”
The computerised voice continued to speak across the boarding and customs area of Tsiolkovsky station, politely reminding civilians, and tersely ordering the staff. Anna, on the other hand, was ordering her fifth drink, and hadn’t heard a single thing that the PA had said for nearly an hour. The Pevensie was due to leave in six hours, and with nowhere else to be, she had spent the last two days living on the Station, drinking heavily and staring at the cam feeds in her room.
It hadn’t done any good of course. Drinking never helped anything, and staring out at the stars had lost a lot of the attraction it had held only a week ago. So different, and yet so similar. The same stars hung in the darkness, the same constellations looked down at her, but they were different. They were accusing.
She looked out at the stars she had dedicated her career to, and saw in them the time she had never spent with the husband she had dedicated her life to. Of course, she had always known, deep down, that this day would come eventually – the wife a pilot flying the JupiTerran run whilst the husband made wine in Italy? It was never going to have a – what was the old film place? Hollywood. It was never going to have a Hollywood ending. But to end like this?
Anna’s head sank on to the bar.
They didn’t have much family on Earth; most were back on Mars. Michael had had many friends, most of whom Anna didn’t know. Being millions of miles away made it difficult to go to the Bianchi’s 25th anniversary do, among hundreds of other occasions. It had also made it difficult to be there for Geoffrey’s birthday parties. He hadn’t minded so much when he was young. Michael simply had to point at the stars and say that mummy was up there, flying around in a spaceship; he had been quite taken with that. Then he grew up, and grew bitter. He’d been at the house three days ago when Anna had arrived in shock and despair, and he hadn’t been gentle with her feelings. Completely without her noticing, her son had overtaken her in age – how had she never realised that was coming? – and he ranted at her for leaving Michael alone for so many years. Of course, as far as she was concerned, she’d only received her piloting licence two and a half years before, yet here her two-year-old son sat, thirty, crushed and infuriated about his father’s death at the age of 68. She’d never realised the gap had grown so wide, never realised Michael had outgrown her so. Modern medicine can do amazing things. But not amazing enough.
She sighed and downed the last of her synthahol whiskey, motioning at the bartender for yet another. He looked dubious, but did as she asked. Her credit was good, she hadn’t caused any trouble and miserable people had been the lifeblood of bars since time immemorial. He slid the drink across to her and removed her old glass, bustling away to clean it and serve someone else.
Anna lifted the drink up and looked through the chiselled glass and the amber liquid within. She saw nothing but her own reflection in the mirrored metal behind the bar, and she barely even recognised the face she saw. She put down her glass and stared into her own eyes. There was nothing in them at all.
“Hey hun.”
Anna’s gaze drifted sideways along the mirror, and there she found Swan’s face.
“Hey.” She replied, lifting her glass once more and turning to face her friend.
“Drunk the place dry yet?” Swan ventured, pulling a hopeful smile. She made note of the fact that it wasn’t returned.
“Sorry,” she continued, “I just don’t know what to say really. You’re the first person I know in space who still has people planetside they really care about.”
“Yeah, fucking stupid of me, huh?”
“What? No, I think it’s amazing. I wish I’d met someone who loved me so much they didn’t mind me spacing. Or someone I loved enough to not jump at the first hot dockworker on Io.” Swan fell onto the stool next to Anna and rested her hand gingerly on her shoulder.
“Really. I think you’re amazing. You both are. Were. Shit, I’ll shut up.”
Anna nodded and glanced back at her drink. She realised that she couldn’t quite tell if it was looking back, and put it down.
“What’re you here for Swan?”
“What else? You’re the only friend I have out here you know. What family I have are on Jupiter skyhooks, and what family I have are bastards. You know that. Hell, you met my cousin that time on Jupiter One, remember?”
Anna half-smiled for what felt like the first time in a week.
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Yeah, see? And he’s the best of the lot.”
“God only knows how you turned out so well.”
“It’s nice to hear someone else share the sentiment for once!” Swan returned with a beaming smile. She noticed that Anna’s had faded and hers followed suit, despite doing its level best to stay in place.
“I don’t really know what I can say Anna,” she said, pausing to glance up at the star-field cams above the bar, “But I do know one thing. I met Michael, what, twice? And he sure’s sure wouldn’t want you this cut up.”
“That’s easy for you to say. I’m the goddamn pilot, but every time I look at the stars I see the time I should’ve spent with him. Didn’t spend with him.”
Swan winced.
“I can’t imagine how that must be…but look. There’s no point focusing on how things could have been. I mean, if you hadn’t become a pilot, I know for a fact that me and the boys would’ve died last year at Big Easy. Ain’t no other pilot I’ve known could’ve dodged that cargo lighter. And I’ve been spacing for what, seven years? I’ve seen a lot of pilots.”
Swan leant close to Anna and her arm found its way across to the other shoulder.
“Look. Just think about what you guys did have. Not what you could have had. You’ve told me stories about Mars when you were young. You guys had a great life together. Don’t do him a disservice by drowning yourself in drink now.”
She glanced at the bartender. The look he returned said everything.
“Well, don’t go drowning any more at least.”
Swan stood, patting Anna once more on the shoulder before turning to leave.
“I’ll see you shipside in an hour, okay? You’ll be there?” Swan said, holding out a small strip of sobriety tablets.
“Yeah.” Anna replied half-heartedly, dropping the pills into her pocket without even looking at them.
Anna saw Swan’s reflection pause and plan something to say. Then both her expression and mind changed and she made for the exit, leaving Anna alone with her thoughts, her drink and the tab.
* * *
Anna hung in the air before her cryo-cap, her mind a few light-years away from her body. Everyone was already asleep except for Swan and Richard who were running checks on the engines. Zac had only just clambered into his cap; he was still cooling off now. By all rights, Anna should’ve been asleep hours ago – after leaving berth and setting the ship on the start of its automated course to Mars, she really had very little left to do. She’d spent the better part of the last two hours sat in Zac’s quarters, trying to decide what to do, and here she hung, still working it over in her mind.
On the one hand, she could take her sleepers. She’d have a nice, uneventful sleep. She’d close her eyes, feel cold, and then it would be two months later. She’d still be cold, but she’d be two months younger than the rest of the universe. They’d be orbiting around Mars, and she would have to go surfaceside to see Michael’s parents.
Or, she could not take the sleepers.
She wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if she didn’t. She knew that without them, people normally have vivid dreams, sometimes lucid. That the dreams tended to be about whatever was on a person’s mind before they went in. She knew that there was a school of art devoted entirely to taking psychotropic drugs and then spending a day in cryo, just to see what kind of fucked up things might come out of it. What she didn’t know was whether it might bring Michael back to her. Whether she’d spend two months living her life with him again, or just spend two months reliving the last six days. There was no way out of it once she’d gone to sleep – she wouldn’t wake up until they reached Mars or everything went to hell, and she’d rather not spend that time in a personal one. Being there in reality was bad enough.
But she just might have some time with Michael again.
She decided, her fists unclenched.
Reaching out for her cap she pulled herself close to it and tapped the screen into wakefulness. It beeped readiness at her, and she touched the control for sleeper dose. It was automatically balanced, as always, in comparison to her vitals – too much had never killed anyone yet, but it woke them up with a bitch of a headache. Turning the dose down however, was unrestricted, and turning it off was easy. She slid the bar as far leftwards as it would go, and the screen flashed up a warning.
DREAMS MAY OCCUR AT THIS DOSAGE.
Good.
Anna touched the affirmative button and heard a faint whirring sound as the cap responded to her orders. She toggled the door open and clambered in. As it hissed shut she saw Swan and Richard floating in through the door. Swan flashed her a hopeful smile just before the cap closed down and the frosted plexglass blocked her from view. The world was white, then it was cold and white, then cold and black. Then just black.
* * *
Stars span leisurely on the cam feed across the wall.
A small transport floated past, queuing up to enter the docking tube of Tsiolkovsky station, puffs of air jetting out in myriad directions as it manoeuvred its way along the two-mile length of the station.
The lights in the room were off, the only illumination coming across uncounted light-years of space. Anna sat, wrapped up in the bed’s thin blanket, staring in wonder out at the universe, wondering if it was looking back.
“I’m starting to think you love the view more than me.”
Anna smiled, turning to face the door where Michael stood, wine in hand.
“Never,” she ventured with a smile, collapsing forward to lie on the bed, her legs kicking into the air coquettishly behind her.
“I should hope not. You know how jealous I am,” he said, mock-serious. Knocking the door-close panel with his elbow, he paused on his way to the bedside table to plant a kiss on Anna’s cheek before setting down the wine.
“I managed to find real wine. None of that synthahol stuff.”
“Really?” Anna rolled in order to get a better look at the bottle.
“Really. Found a little shop in the commercial zone. Wasn’t much bigger than this,” he said, gesturing at the room around them, “But my god that selection. This wasn’t the oldest there, but I figured ‘Hey, we’ve never had Jovian wine before’.”
“Very true,” Anna agreed, sitting up and edging along the bed whilst Michael opened the bottle.
“Jesus, an actual cork. We are doing well for ourselves today.” He grinned.
Anna returned the smile as he poured them each a glass.
“Now,” he began, climbing onto the bed beside her, “I don’t know if it’s true, but I’ve heard that if you hold a good Jovian wine up to light, it glows. Something special they do in the hydroponics labs there.”
He paused for a moment, thinking.
“You know, that probably makes it really bad for you, but who gives?” he laughed, and raised his glass to Anna, who returned the salutation. As one they turned to the cam feed on the wall, and lifted the wine to it.
“Maybe it doesn’t work with a vidfeed of starlight. Maybe it has to be all-natural light or…”
He trailed off as Anna shushed him, her eyes fixed on her crystal glass with an almost childlike wonder as the golden liquid worked with it to refract the stars dominating the wall of the room. He smiled and lifted his glass next to hers, turning it and admiring the way Orion’s Belt bent and buckled as he did so.
They had almost given up hope that it was a ‘good’ Jovian when Anna gasped, holding up her other hand next to her glass. It lit up with a faint white glow, like a candle shining through frosted glass. It grew a bit brighter, and she could see it through the tips of her fingers.
“No fair! Yours is better than – oh no, there it goes.”
Michael’s wine began to shine dimly as well, drowning the light coming from the starfield behind.
“Well, that shows what I know. Looks like I underpaid for this after all.”
Anna brought her hands down, cupping her glass gently between them. She looked up at Michael as the wine rippled, sending the muffled light dancing across his face.
“Drink that before I do.”
She smiled, and lifted the glass in salute before taking a sip. It tasted somehow warm.
“It good?”
“Very. Nicest you’ve ever bought me I think.” She replied, taking a second sip before reaching over to take Michael’s glass.
“Hey, I haven’t even had any yet!”
“Later.” She said, turning and placing both glasses down on the table next to the bottle. She noticed with delight that the bottle was beginning to shine as well, a warm glow colouring the corner of the room.
“For now,” she added, lying back on the bed, “I can think of a better way to begin our honeymoon.”
She gently tugged on his shirt, pulling him down.
He broke away for a second.
“I love you, Mrs. Saint-Clare.”
She smiled.
“I love you too,” she replied, dragging him down into a kiss.
They tumbled down onto the bed, the thick mattress a welcome relief after a full day of walking. Light slanted in through the window, painting the far wall a glorious golden colour. It would last for a while longer before the hills in the distance swallowed up the sun and allowed the moon her chance to paint the world silver.
“I don’t think I’ve ever walked that much in my entire life” Michael said, sighing.
“I’m pretty sure we actually walked further than the domes back home are wide. That lake alone must’ve been the size of our entire hab’ section,” Anna replied, rolling onto her side to look at her new husband. Michael looked at her with a smile.
“Beautiful, wasn’t it?”
Anna nodded in agreement, before leaning close to rest her head on Michael’s chest. She looked through the window, out at the vineyards that belonged to the house they were renting. The grapes were nearly in season, glowing a pale green as the sunlight made its way through their translucent flesh. The leaves were painted a far brighter shade as an evening breeze gently made its way between the branches. Despite Italy’s beauty however, Anna could only think of the stars, and their evening spent in orbit.
“What was that sigh for?” Michael asked, looking down at her.
“What?”
“That sigh. If ‘wistful’ had a soundfile in the dictionary, that would’ve been it.”
Anna laughed.
“What’re you thinking about?” Michael pressed.
“Nothing really,” Anna shrugged, “Just thinking about the other night, on the station. The stars are beautiful when there’s no atmosphere to block them out.”
“Very true. I always preferred this though,” he said, gesturing through the window at the darkening evening, “Stars we can see back home, the dome doesn’t really block them much. This much life though, you don’t see it outside the ’ponics domes”
“I know, but even back home, the stars seem so far away. In orbit, it’s like you can reach out and touch them. And there are so many more of them.”
“Well, not to worry. We’ll be back on the station for at least a day before our flight back home. In the same hotel actually, I think.”
“Oh good. It’ll be nice to see space again properly before we’re back in the domes.”
“Speaking of the domes,” Michael began, trailing off as he reached over to the bedside table. Fishing a flimsy bit of paper, he tapped Anna on the head. She looked up at him as he brandished the little photograph.
“This is the family’s hydroponics dome down on the flats near Pavonis Mons. Near Aldrin? It’s a nice place. Great sunlight and it’s near one of the terraforming stacks, so there are even clouds sometimes. Aldrin’s a really nice city too actually. Pretty small compared to home, but all the more peaceful for it.”
Anna playfully grabbed at the small picture, bringing it closer for a squinting look. The dome wasn’t enormous, but it was clear, rather than misted like the ones they lived in.
“Looks lovely! Is it far enough outside Aldrin to get good views at night?”
“The best.”
Anna snorted in mock derision.
“I suppose it’ll have to do.”
Michael laughed and tousled Anna’s hair.
“Damn right it will!
He glanced over at his watch, and then through the window at the slowly disappearing sun.
“Time for dinner! We should eat on the balcony I think tonight, looks like it’ll be a nice evening.”
“They all seem to be around here” Anna called after him as he clambered off the bed and padded from the room.
“Great, isn’t it? If we can make a good go of it back home, I’d love to move here properly.”
“Here, you can open your eyes now!”
Anna’s eyes batted open, and she blinked in the sudden harsh light of the small vidscreen that Michael was holding up.
“It’s a…screen?”
“No! You think I’d surprise you with a screen on our anniversary? Look at what’s on the screen.”
Anna did so, leaning back to bring it into focus.
It was a small villa, set against a hill covered in vine-wreathed frames, with more vines growing in cultured lines stretching towards where the camera had been. Then she noticed the small blinking emblem at the bottom of the image and touched it.
A small glowing box opened across the picture. It said only one word:
Purchased.
Anna gaped.
“You bought a house? On Earth!?”
“Yes! Well, no. Technically, I’ve put in a decent bid for it and they’ve accepted, pending our being able to sell the vineyard here, and you being interested in the idea. It’s a bigger place than ours here, and it’s lovely. It’s in a small town in southern Italy – I’m told that on clear nights you can see the North African space fountain. It’s a good size, and it’s not really too expensive, and with the bigger vineyard, I think we could make it back in no time and-”
“Michael!” Anna interrupted, “You’re babbling.”
“I…I guess I am. Sorry” He put the screen down on the table, looking rather sheepish.
“I just think it could be a really good move – we both want our kids to grow up under a blue sky after all –” Anna interrupted him again, but this time with a quick kiss. Pulling away, she smiled.
“You had me at Southern Italy.”
Michael grinned.
“I knew you’d like it! Just wait till you see the other pictures of it, it’s a wonderful place!” He bolted to his office. “Come on Anna, I’ve got the rest on here. You’ve got to see them!”
Anna was halfway across the room when she felt faint. Her eyes were suddenly heavy, her vision blurred and as she collapsed to the floor, she felt cold. She cried out in shock and surprise, and Michael was there, kneeling over her. Before either of them could say anything, Anna knew what was happening. She could feel it. The world around her was fading out to black, yet somehow also white. She was getting colder, but warmer.
She was waking up.
“No!” she struggled to say through the strange sensation of drug induced drowsiness, “I want to stay here with you.”
Michael nodded knowingly, suddenly not his energetic self now that Anna had recognised what was happening.
“Don’t worry my love. I’ll be here.”
“You would say that. You’re just my mind, telling itself what it wants to hear.”
“Exactly. So, I’ll always be here.”
Anna started at the obvious logic. Before she could say anything, the dream of her husband leant down and kissed her forehead.
“I love you Annabelle.”
The world went white.
* * *
Lights blinked in the darkness.
One of those lights was the Pevensie, the crew once again asleep for the long haul from Mars to Jupiter. The ship’s corridors were empty, the metal cold. The captain’s quarters stood unused, an antique wooden cupboard creaking in the chill. The engineering bay was empty, a single toolbelt drifting lazily about, occasionally clunking off the ceiling and floor. The cargo bay sat full of Martian crops for the Jovian colonies, ready to be replaced with He-3 and ore from the moons. The bridge’s chairs were empty, Swan’s headset floating gently in the cold air above her station. And on Anna’s station, where the captain had scratched a lion for good luck, there was a small photograph of a man, smiling in a vineyard.