Dawn rose over the glow of the fire eating up the hills, as it had done for most of the season. Which, at this point, made up the greater part of the year.
Mari set out early to catch her launch that day, mostly to get out of the house but also because she had no hope of sleeping. Not between her mother’s cries and the hushed comings and goings of neighbors offering their condolences, as if Mari had died instead of accepting a job contract in space.
Something millions of people had done with little thought for over five centuries, by the way. Not that Mari’s mother had wanted to hear any of that. Her astrophobia had shut down any potential for rational discussion – another argument she didn’t take well when Mari pointed it out.
Today, Mari would be the first person from her podunk town to leave Earth and instead of celebrating, her mother mourned.
So Mari grabbed her vacuum bag and walked out, even as she felt a tug of guilt for her silent exit. She couldn’t take the emotional grandstanding anymore.
She walked to the edge of her neighborhood like she’d done thousands of times since she was a kid. She was familiar with this strange time of night. The witching hour, as her aunt called it – the deep, still trench of dark before the day.
Lately, whenever Mari was out at this hour, she rarely had all of her wits about her, her vision and memories blurred with beer or smoke or the afterglow of sex with strangers, the only things she went into the city for anymore.
Down the hill from her street, Mari spotted the lights of her house for the last time before entering a spotless, newly constructed bus stop. From there, she boarded an automated hoverbus out of the Tanasi Valley to the Atlanta regional hub, where she took a shuttle with a handful of others to the Cape Canaveral Spaceport. Just as she’d originally planned – only four hours early.
Dawn bloomed over her journey and cast the hills in soft pastel, ponds and lakes shining like gems as they caught the sun. Mari settled into a quiet peace. For the first time, she felt as if she were embarking on a new beginning rather than ending her life in every way she’d known.
Hills and mountains gave way to the Atlantic Swamp, what remained of the American Panhandle swallowed by the ocean on one side and the Gulf on the other. The surface appeared stroked by a paintbrush where saltwater of varying densities refused to mix. Although the American Coalition had made efforts to purify the gulf of oil, parts of the water’s surface still reflected a slick sheen like a rainbow gone askew.
The CC Spaceport came into view in the shape of a spinning top floating above the bright blue ocean, protected from the elements by an atmospheric dome. The weather was uncharacteristically mild for the region, especially for fall. At the job she’d just left as an environmental responder, Mari would’ve expected to be dealing with hurricanes by now. But the Gulf was late to douse the dry winds licking up the flames of summer. Despite the chaos that caused on the ground, it made for beautiful skies as the shuttle approached the bustling airspace.
Ribbons of hover traffic pulsed to and from the hub like arteries and veins. Mari had passed through Cape Canaveral before on various travels to other parts of the world, but never as a stepping stone to go off world.
The shuttle sidled up to an extended gangway and docked. Mari disembarked onto the cavernous concourse lined by windows. Tufts of clouds rested along the horizon like flocks of sheep. She passed a row of boutiques with two-story-tall holographic models wearing impossibly vibrant outfits. Tables staggered up the dining area on platforms up to the ceiling. Drinkable water fixtures flowed alongside foot traffic and cast rainbow prisms at soft angles. Mari felt small and uncouth compared to the sleek, elegant travelers around her, as if they could all tell that her brand new spacesuit was compensating for her lack of experience off planet.
She located her gate, printed a bowl of noodles from a concourse replicator, and settled by a window enjoying the view, scrolling through social to see the lives of everyone she knew carry on as usual. Nobody in her family had posted that morning. Even her mother had been quiet, and she liked to share her daily breakfast spread. Then her sister Indigo’s icon popped up on her contacts.
OMG! My big sis is going to SPACE today!! Who’s taking a trip to visit her with me?? I’m already packing my vacuum bag.
Mari chuckled. She was sure their mother was restricted from seeing it, otherwise Indigo would become the target of her ire. The only way Indigo would make it to space before she turned eighteen would be if she ran away, which Mari didn’t entirely put past the teen.
There Mari sat, working through a cascade of feelings as she scrolled through her feed. After a while she looked up to find that no one else was waiting at her gate. That seemed strange at… ten minutes before launch. She couldn’t possibly be the only person going to Luna.
Out of the corner of her contacts, a notification caught her eye. Then another.
A gate change. She’d been so submerged in her thoughts that she’d missed all of the notifications. It had been so long since she’d needed directions anywhere, so long since her routine had enough of a disruption to justify an alarm.
Mari grabbed her bag and ran full bore, ignoring stares as she weaved through the crowd, her new space boots weighing her down. Her thighs burned with each gasping leap she took.
She was going to miss her first flight into space.
And considering how she left things with her family the night before, going back home with her tail between her legs was not an option.
Technically, Mari could catch the next Lunar shuttle. There was probably another one within the hour. All things considered, this wasn’t the biggest deal in the galaxy. But Mari couldn’t bear this failure to be the start to her new life. Her mother would say she was “trying to see the world when she couldn’t even see her own ass,” one of those weird old sayings that didn’t actually make any sense but made the person saying it feel superior.
The concourse was busier now. Mari had sacrificed dignity at the altar of speed, her feet hitting the ground hard. She halted at an intersection to gather her bearings, when an older woman reached out to her with a shaking hand. She looked just like the grannies and great-aunties in Mari’s neighborhood, her face carved with deep wrinkles, her silver hair loosely wrapped with a shawl.
“Young lady, could you lend me a hand?” She motioned to where her luggage stood next to a hovercart. “My son got caught up with the little ones at the cafe…”
In a split second Mari calculated that she could take the time to explain to the auntie why she couldn’t help her, or she could just do the thing and move on.
She hoisted the luggage onto the cart one after the other. What were they packing, bricks? Based off of the woman’s simple garments, her family must have lived even deeper in the hills than Mari’s. She wasn’t surprised they hadn’t heard of vacuum bags.
“Oh, thank you!” the auntie started, but Mari was too far gone to hear the rest.
The departure countdown at the corner of her vision hit one minute when she was still six gates away. Heart pumping, she slid through her gate with just seconds to spare, the door scanning her identity and confirmed her reservation. Like the rest of her journey, the fare was free.
Mari folded over, clutching at her cramping side. She’d made it.
Once she caught her breath, she straightened and continued up the flybridge. Despite being an agnostic, she couldn’t help but whisper one of her mother’s prayers as she took her first steps onto the space shuttle. Superstition was still one hell of a drug, soothing her fluttering nerves as the shuttle doors chimed closed behind her.
She didn’t look far for a seat – she was so out of breath that she slipped into the first available spot. The shuttle jolted as it disengaged from the dock. Mari jumped and covered her mouth but not before a yelp escaped her. As they rose above the spaceport, she looked out over the ocean, stretching like a brilliant blue carpet in every direction, the white cresting waves getting smaller until she could no longer make them out.
When the shuttle reached the highest rings of the atmosphere, the tug of their ascent began to lift from Mari’s limbs. As planet thinned into space, she became momentarily weightless, lifting from her seat until the shuttle’s gravity system kicked in and anchored her down. The horizon started to curve beneath them – slowly at first, then all at once, encircling Earth into a perfectly round orb, surrounded by the unending darkness of space.
Despite knowing all of the safety statistics, Mari’s stomach flipped. She began to sweat, her skin cold and clammy even as her insides burned up. Within minutes, she scurried to the bathroom – where there were no windows – and splashed her face with cold water.
The unisex bathroom lounge was spacious, pristine, and Mari’s only refuge, lined with self-cleaning stalls. She sat against the wall, practiced her breathing exercises, and drank cool water from her new temperature-regulated thermos. But every time she attempted to emerge into the hallway, her stomach threatened to riot at the first window and she retreated back to square one – splashing her face, breathing slow and deep. Witnessing the endless void of space, seeing the tiny state of Earth, rocked her core with a visceral dread she had not expected.
She tried to list all the things she loved about space, everything that had made her come out here. She almost – almost – considered whether she’d made a mistake. Her mother’s chiding voice came foremost to her mind. Why had she come out here anyway? Why couldn’t she just be happy with everything she already had on Earth? Why, why, why? She shook herself out of her spiraling thoughts and focused on the matters at hand.
First, work through her reptile brain’s existential crisis.
Second, figure out how to walk properly in artificial G.
And finally, reach her next flight without making a scene.
Mari waited in the bathroom lounge until her contacts notified her that the shuttle was approaching Luna. She’d changed her notification settings, which had overcorrected to sending her an avalanche of messages. She double-checked her next gate and waved them all away before steeling herself and venturing into the hall. She was going to watch her first arrival on the Moon, her reptilian crisis be damned.
From the window she watched the massive gray orb stretch and expand beneath her feet. She’d seen photos and holos of the monochromatic city of Luna, of course, but witnessing its jagged shadows, blistered craters, and brilliant planes from this vantage point was a surreal experience. The sight of the Moon’s surface was apparently big enough to quiet Mari’s space sickness. Having a horizon to anchor herself made a big difference.
The self-sustaining artificial atmosphere covered the Moon in its entirety and most developed surfaces had gravity correction. Luna rose out of the Central Lunar Plane with a clump of buildings in architectural formations like branches. Neighborhoods extended from the city center, weaving around craters preserved as public parks where you could experience Lunar G.
The shuttle docked and the other passengers departed. Staring down the gangway to the concourse, the full weight of Mari’s unmooring washed over her. She’d severed all of her ties and she’d yet to secure any new bonds with anyone, anywhere. Despite the Lunar colony’s bicentennial coming up in just a few months, she might as well have been on an alien planet. For years, she’d wanted to be on her own, but she hadn’t realized just how alone she’d be.
She swallowed against the lump rising in her throat and strode forward into the flow of foot traffic. The crowd here was just as diverse as the Cape Canaveral Spaceport but not as colorful, their dress understated, more functional than flamboyant. The central hall’s high ceiling, with ships docked all the way to the top, diffused the sounds that might otherwise echo down the concourse. The effect was a quiet aura of awe – or maybe the awe was Mari’s own. The station may have been grim were it not for the surprising amount of colorful foliage, palms and bushes and flowering trees, bursting from the railings and centerpieces.
Her transfer was uneventful as she didn’t have long between flights and she kept her eyes glued to her gate. If she missed this launch, she’d have to wait an entire day for the next, since not many people had reason to go so far out into space. But because this was the only flight of the day to her destination, it was also the fullest shuttle Mari boarded – and the smallest, with reclining chairs for fifty people at best, lined up in sets of two with two aisles running the length of the cabin.
She scanned the other passengers, wondering if they were also going to the Data Hex or if they were part of the Ganymede colony. The only common thread she could make out among them was the utility of their clothes. A murmur of voices filled the cabin as new arrivals recognized fellow passengers. The camaraderie reminded Mari of the familiarity people carried in her hometown.
One of the new arrivals sat down next to Mari. She was impossible to miss in her bold pink bodysuit, reflective platform sneakers, thick silver cat eye makeup, and doll blonde hair stacked in a bun atop her head. “Is this seat taken?”
“Go ahead,” Mari said. As the newcomer settled in, the shuttle doors closed.
The woman tilted her head for a better look at Mari, her impossibly long black eyelashes fluttering like a fan over her sea-green eyes. “You seem new.”
Although it wasn’t a question, Mari nodded. She braced herself in her seat and closed her eyes as the shuttle engine began to hum. Sweat trickled along her brow. “My second space flight.”
The woman clicked her tongue, her tone sympathetic. “Space sickness?”
“Let’s just say I didn’t see much of my first flight.” Mari glanced toward the back of the shuttle. “I have a mind to get ahead of the horse and just lock myself in the bathroom before we get going.”
The woman shook her head and stood. “No need for that. Come with me.”
Mari hesitated, then glimpsed the rapidly distancing lunar horizon from the window. With a wave of her hand, she turned the window opaque. As she followed the woman to the cafe counter, she noticed a round, plump cushion covered with bright blue fluff on the woman’s seat.
Mari jumped and hit the seat behind her as the cushion moved on its own, rotating to face her with three pale eyes in the formation of a triangle and a toothless mouth shaped like a cat’s. The woman picked it up, revealing four stumpy legs and a short fluffed tail.
“Oh, you’ve met Bubbles. She’ll save our seats, won’t she now?” the woman cooed.
Mari braced her hand against her chest to keep her heart from jumping out of her rib cage. “Wh–what is… Bubbles?”
“Have you never seen a chibi before? Here.” The woman held out the creature, which stared intently into Mari’s eyes with all three of its own. “Don’t worry, it can’t hurt you.”
Gingerly Mari accepted the creature, which beamed up at her with an earnest smile. It weighed less than she expected, with a warm body and soft fur. Its body expanded with steady, rhythmic breathing. Occasionally it let out a soft trill but mostly vibrated as it purred. When it got close enough, it licked Mari’s face with a smooth tongue that left no residue. As she pulled back, it hiccuped and released a small burst of bubbles.
“It’s… cute,” she finally said.
“I know, right?” The woman placed Bubbles back on the seat. “She makes an excellent snuggling companion for these long flights.”
They walked to the rear of the cabin where three replicator machines stood in a row. The woman activated a replicator screen, scrolled through the menu of options – food, drinks, clothing, medical – and printed an applicator shaped like a pen. The replicator panel turned opaque for several seconds then cleared, displaying the item on the counter. As soon as the woman reached through and took the item out, the panel turned opaque again. “This should take care of the sickness.”
Mari inspected the medipen as the woman printed out two more and gave her one.
“I always take deep sleep for as much of the flight as I can. There isn’t anything else to do, anyway.” She noticed Mari considering the pens. “You know how to use it, right?”
“Sure.” Mari had just not used them often. Most people got their basic immunizations at birth. Maybe she’d take a dose of a painkiller after an injury on the job, sure. But in most cases, where she came from, you didn’t need medical intervention unless you really needed it. Mari had never inspected this inclination to tough things out until this moment. She’d even read up on medications for space sickness, but she’d forgotten or dismissed them from her mind. The thought of others taking meds didn’t bother her, but she never considered taking them herself.
She should be able to do this on her own. She shouldn’t need help.
But then she considered spending the next day on a cold bathroom floor while all of her body’s instincts screamed at her that they were surely to be annihilated any second now.
She plunged the medipen into her forearm and then offered her hand to the woman. “Thank you for that. I’m Mari. Do you go to Sector Five often?”
“Eli.” The woman shook Mari’s hand and turned back to the replicator menu. “I try not to think about how often I’ve been out here recently, but it must be at least a dozen times.” She chuckled at Mari’s expression. “Sorry, it’s not so bad. It’s just so far away from everything.”
Eli navigated to the comfort menu and they each printed out a pillow and blanket.
“What do you do out there?” Mari asked as they returned to their seats.
“Generally, environmentals.” Eli sat and pulled Bubbles into her lap. The creature settled immediately and resumed purring like a motor. “I make sure the air isn’t poison and we have enough water to stay alive out here.”
“That sounds important. I’ll be working as a data sweep for the Hex.”
“Then you’re in luck, my friend. I can personally guarantee that the air you breathe will be the freshest in all of Jupiter’s orbit. And data sweeping is just as important in a different way.”
Mari scoffed. “You don’t have to say that to be nice.”
“I’m serious.” Eli twirled her finger through what Mari thought was a coil of hair behind her ear. On a closer look, she realized it was a tendril attached to the flower in Eli’s updo – and the tendril had coiled around her hair to hold up her bun like a hair tie. As Eli laid back her seat, Mari noticed both the bloom and the tendril curling toward the cabin lights. “Our systems only work if our data infrastructure works. Somebody’s got to do it, and you’re that somebody.”
“Thank you.” Mari felt herself blush at the stranger’s words. She laid back her seat, fluffed her pillow, and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. The rest of the passengers appeared to be in similar stages of turning down for the flight. Occasionally she caught sight of space from a window in another aisle, but she no longer felt the accompanying panic in her gut.
Eli inhaled from the medipen and motioned to the one in Mari’s hand. “I prefer to sip my dose on extended release but you can use it as a plunger, too.” She activated the console on the arm of their chairs. “And you can turn on the built-in privacy screen through here.”
Mari noticed a man talking heatedly with another person ahead of them in the opposite aisle, their voices hushed but hard. The way the man kept shaking his head and gesturing with his hands, Mari didn’t have to know the specifics of the conversation to know it couldn’t be good. Finally he sat down, dismissing the other person with a wave.
Eli peeked over her shoulder, following Mari’s gaze. “Ah, Dr. Lucaski.” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “When I wake up a day from now, remind me to catch you up on all the tea from that department. I guess you can’t expect any less from InfoSec.” She yawned. “I’ve got an extra chibi on me if you want something to snuggle.”
Mari declined. She was no stranger to the cats, dogs, even the occasional piglet or goat kid burrowing on top of her covers for the night, but Bubbles was too uncanny a bedmate for her first night in space. She had no desire to wake up from her inaugural dose of deep sleep with the type of creature she’d normally see only after visiting old man Jack for his mushrooms back home.
Eli wished her a good night before activating the privacy screen over her seat, obscuring her behind a holographic shade and forming a pod around her. On the other side of the aisle, Dr. Lucaski remained one of the few passengers still upright, scrolling through a menu that only he could see, his chin resting on his hand. He looked like he was in for a long night.
Mari set the deep sleep medipen for instant release and plunged it into her forearm. Right now, among all the comings and goings in the solar system, she was exactly where she needed to be. She reclined her chair, activated her privacy screen, and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Next Part
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