Trajectory Book 1 (New Providence) (3 page)

Tamra> not really. It’s about fixing nitrogen!

Pause.
right.

She crunched on some noodles, considering.
I haven’t had any alone time in a whole week.

Greg> oh. well, if you’d rather just be alone…

Tamra smirked. What was he thinking? She hadn’t seen him all week with Emma’s mom as her unofficial chaperone serving up variations on tofu casserole. She checked her hair in the tablet’s reflection.
I don’t know. what do you want to do?
She cringed after she’d sent it. Maybe she really should stay home. Greg’s mom was off in space too.

Tamra went to her bedroom and grabbed some spare clothes out of the pile on her floor. Checked herself in the mirror. Loose white tank top, black jeans. She debated a pony tail, but shook her hair out instead, letting it hang around her shoulders and face. She wrapped up her toothbrush and put it in the inside pocket in her bag. She picked up her tablet and dropped it back into her bag and grabbed her jacket off the floor. She slid the door closed behind her without bothering to lock it, walked down the hall and up the two flights of stairs to Greg’s apartment.

She stood there, about to knock on the door when it slid open. Greg in a black t-shirt and jeans, bare feet. “Come on in.” He held the door for her and she squeezed past him, brushing against him as she went by. She dropped her bag by the couch.

Greg scratched his head. The apartment was a mess. Discarded ration packs, clothes. The lights were dim, at least, so she couldn’t see the full extent of the damage. “Like what you’ve done with the place.” Tamra kicked at an empty water bottle.

“Yeah, the cleaning lady hasn’t been around much this week.” Greg went into the kitchen. “You want anything? Water? Uh. Water?”

“Sure, water’d be fine.” She flopped down on the couch and then sat up, pulling a shoe out from behind her back. She dropped it on the floor with a look of distaste. “And maybe a garbage can?”

“Water it is.” Greg dropped into the couch beside her. “Now, what was this thing you wanted to show me?”

She smiled and grabbed her tablet out of her bag. “Look at this.”

She opened the recording she and Emma had been looking at. “Em found this doing her project for astro.” The recording cycled a few times, accelerated, timelapsed.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Here.” Tamra zoomed in on the region of space. In fast motion they could see the blinking object fixed against the background of moving stars.

“Probably just a rock?” Greg squinted, pulling the tablet towards him. Tamra’s hand came with it and she shifted herself closer, leaning against him. “Maybe it’s spinning, picking up the sun.”

“That’s what we thought at first, but the orbit doesn’t really make sense. Em says it’s moving too fast to be where it is.” She was really close.

“I’ll have to plot some courses. It’ll probably take awhile. Maybe all night.” Greg looked into her eyes and put an arm around her. “You staying?”

“Maybe just for a bit.”

The tablet fell to the floor.
 

005

Lighthouse.

Commander David Mancuso glanced at the board even though he already knew its contents. Four ships. Two inbound, soon to be three. The fourth ship was further out past the Snow Line, the invisible circle midway through the asteroid belt where comets began to melt. Everybody was right where they were supposed to be.

He flipped through the morning’s reports, a list of numbers: 113 incoming messages, 38 incident reports, 17 points of interest, and one birthday coming up. He was going to be 57. That wasn’t in his list, but he added it in anyway. He’d have to contend with it later.

Mancuso grimaced. It was a pain in the ass measuring human birthdays in Earth years now that they were on Mars. Keeping track of the days on Earth, the days on Mars. Everybody was on two clocks. It sounded a lot more impressive than the thirty years he’d have if he reckoned it by local timekeeping like some of the new generation had started doing. Then again, what he wouldn’t give to be thirty again. Might even do a couple of things different if he were.

He broke out of his train of thought and focused on the screen in front of him. Start with the incident reports, as usual. He opened the first one, subject: STN PWR FLUCTUATION AT 0612, 2% VAR. Probably dust on the collectors or a bad connector on one of the lines. He typed up a message requesting an engineer take a look at it. That’d mean probably a couple of hours downtime on the collectors and a switch over to battery power. Next subject: STN DOCKING SEAL FAIL, BAY 5. He was pretty sure if he looked back through the logs, he’d find the Terror was docked in Bay 5 last. Her skipper had a bad habit of letting the auto locks disengage instead of doing a manual unlock and some of them were pretty sticky at their great age.

Mancuso sighed. The station was only fifteen years older than he was when it was finally completed and they were both falling apart. They were both getting too old for this. He flagged it for engineering to take a look.

He felt a twinge in his chest and rubbed the muscle absent-mindedly. He remembered the message waiting in his inbox from his doctor again. The subject line said it all. “Test results.” He’d been ignoring the request to talk about these for a week now. No point in ruining a good day.

Skimming. Twelve requests for new parts. Three new personnel requests. Two leave requests. Forward… Forward…

He started looking over Olympus and Watchtower’s points of interest. His favorite part of the morning. Looked like three possible M-type rocks coming into range for the next cycle. He tagged them. Five silicates, not interesting, they rarely were. Remnants of rocky asteroids or blasted-off chunks of planet battered into sand. Funny. There was an unknown in the list but no detail. He wondered if there was a bug in Watchtower’s programming.

Mancuso looked at the board again. Making Time had begun her descent chasing Calypso. Pandora had a head-start and would be ready to start deceleration burns in a couple of days. Good ships those. Good crews. They made his life a hell of a lot easier, that was certain. All he really had to do was keep the station running and occasionally pick a new rock for them to go dig into. Not a bad life, all told.

Fifty years the Lighthouse had been keeping track of the Martian space fleet. It bookended all their travels to and from space – a temporary stop-over on their way to the asteroid belt. Mancuso and his crew served to keep those ships running. He felt like it was the most important job in the colony. And the station was getting old. All the pieces they’d added onto it over the years were breaking down and wearing out. Their job was to keep it running in its orbit around Mars.

Keep the lights on.

“Sir? Incoming message from Pandora.” Jill Sanchez informed him from the communications station, interrupting his reverie.

He turned to her. “Put it up.”

The speakers crackled with the incoming transmission. “Control, this is MSS13 Pandora checking in. We have cut power to engines and are drifting into our deceleration burn scheduled in 48 hours.” Captain Mike Bruno’s voice on the speaker. “We’re looking for some quality entertainment during this quiet window which we will pay for with a big heavy load of metal. Over.”

Jill looked at him, expecting a reply. She had a grin on her face. Mancuso checked the time. Almost ten in the morning. “Acknowledge them. Then see if you can raise Bruno’s kids for them. I bet he’d appreciate a recording from his littlest.” They’d be in class now, but every once in awhile they let the class send up a hello from the colony. He wasn’t sure who enjoyed that more, the kids or the crews. He sure got a kick out of it though.

Jill mimed some applause and turned back to her station, sending out the reply.

He got up from his chair with a creak and a groan. “You have the deck, Mister Nolan. I have to get ready for my surprise party.” Heavy emphasis on the surprise.

Nolan grinned at him with his excellent teeth and stood up. “Yes sir. Very much looking forward to it.”

Mancuso sighed and headed anti-spinward for the exit. “And I don’t want any fuss, you understand?”

“Oh no, sir. Wouldn’t dream of it.” More teeth as Nolan stood behind the commander’s chair watching him go.
 

006

Making Time.

After two days into the burn Jerem felt like he could move without injuring himself. Adjusting to gravity, even the gentle artificial gravity of their accelerating ship took care. It was exacerbated by his sore muscles from the weeks on the mining mission. He squeezed into the galley and grabbed a ration pack out of the locker and cracked the seal. He leaned against the ladder while it heated up.

His dad called down from the cockpit with his raspy voice, “you out of your bunk?”

“Yeah, Dad.” He almost choked on his bean stew. “Just grabbed a ration. You want anything?”

“Come on up when you get a second.”

“Alright.” He’d have to wait until he finished eating this. Can’t climb a ladder with an open ration. He squeezed out a hot mouthful and chewed it carefully, blowing out through his mouth around the chemically heated food threatening to melt a hole through his tongue. He swallowed and chased it with a big gulp of water. He felt a blister forming on the roof of his mouth with his tongue and winced. He blew into the packet, steam rising out of the opening and carefully squeezed another, smaller mouthful.

Jerem finished eventually, taking his time while the stew cooled down and discarded the empty ration pack in the recycling bin. He hauled himself up past the bunks, all empty save for stowed supplies and equipment in the spares. They were only two on Making Time, but the standard ship design had room for a cramped six. Most of the ships in their fleet ran with three or four crew onboard. Hal had talked about taking on another crew member before but hadn’t for this run. Jerem figured he would soon, maybe their next outing.

He climbed through the open hatch into the glowing cockpit, orange and blue lights illuminating the round control room. Panels and hatches lined the walls around them providing access to the control systems and electronics. “What’s up?” His mouth and tongue still tingling from the hot stew made his words sound thick to his ears.

“Take a look at this.” Hal tapped the display in front of him on his console, his face illuminated in a blue cast from the screen below. The control sticks locked into position on either side of the station. An ancient mechanical gimbal stood still in the corner indicating steady flight.

Jerem leaned around his father’s seat to take a look, taking a moment to make sense of the table of values on the display. He whistled when he figured it out.

“Holy crap! I knew that felt light on extract, but had no idea.” The display had a highlighted line-item in the list of entries. It read 3% Titanium. Nearly half a tonne of it. The rest was mostly iron and nickel. Smaller amounts of gold, silver and copper were all under a single percentage of the total.

“That’s gonna build us a lot of parts. It’s a great haul. We’ve flagged the rock for the next time it comes back around. It’s worth going back to.” Hal tapped his screen and brought up an image of the bigger parent body, the unusually-named, bone-shaped Kleopatra. “We should figure out a way to get down on that thing.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure I got all of the good stuff.” Jerem grinned. They were getting some good bounty for this. Probably even be able to take a month or two of leave and first dibs on replacement parts for the ship. Tam’d have to get used to them being around again. And Em. He looked forward to annoying her by being around more. “Did you send it in yet?”

“No, not yet. I’m still basking in the glow.” Hal grinned and put his feet up on the console. “Dinner’s on me tonight.”
 

007

New Providence: Nicola Tesla University

What’d you do last night? You never answered me.

Emma was pretending to pay attention in geology class. She didn’t want Professor Richardson making a target out of her again.

Tamra> um, nuthin…

Emma>
mmhm. I don’t beleeeev u.

Emma knew about Greg. Everybody did. There weren’t many real secrets in the ship crew section of the colony. Most of the space crews’ families all lived in the same apartment complex. People talked.

Emma> just be careful, k? so… about my question.

Emma trailed off, keeping an eye on her prof at the front of class.

Tamra> Doc Powell has office hours later today. We should just go.

Emma> OK. Let’s meet after class.

Doctor Richardson continued her lecture on the different melting points of various types of rock.

*

“OK Em, let’s go camp the Powell-spawn.” Tamra punched Emma in the shoulder.

“Hey, what the hell?” Emma grabbed her arm and turned around to face Tamra, walking backwards.

“That’s for message-stalking me.” Tamra grinned and wagged her finger in front of Emma’s face.

“OK, I am so sorry for invading your personal special privacy time miss secret pants.” Emma started walking in the direction of Dr. Powell’s office, Tamra in tow. “It’s not fair that your boyfriend is down here with us while mine is in the asteroid belt.”