Do You Dream of Terra-Two?

by Temi Oh

  The sky was a disgusting colour, and she was shivering in her thin pyjamas. She wished she’d brought a coat in addition to her now-soiled slippers. There were Coke cans floating in the pond, and when her tears finally subsided she could see across the water to Stephen’s car, and the feathers smeared into the tyres. She wondered if her mother was okay, and knew that she had to go back. When she did, she couldn’t spot either of the adults behind the windscreen and wondered if they had walked off and left her. Then she saw her mother in the back seat. She was being attacked. Poppy pressed her face against the window but then wished she hadn’t. Understanding came to her all at once; her mother squeezing Stephen’s hair in a wet fist, the knife-bright slice of thigh, a jet spray of hair at the base of Stephen’s spine, his bottom waxing over the edge of his loosened belt.

  She ran.

  As the wind stung her eyes she thought that she heard her mother’s voice calling out behind her, but she didn’t look back.

  A WEEK LATER, STEPHEN finally left for good. Poppy was called out of her class by the school’s receptionist and driven to the hospital. For the rest of her life, whenever Poppy recalled the way her mother looked that day – tiny and helpless, folded in on herself, her eyes closed, still connected to a drip – it was with a twist of pain. ‘Has she done this before?’ the social worker asked.

  Poppy had nodded. ‘A couple of times.’

  Poppy was filled, then, with an urgent terror that if she spent another year in that flat she would die there.

  So she applied to Dalton, applied to everywhere that would take her, and only thought about how she might pay for it when the acceptances slipped through the letter box.

  Even after she was accepted by Dalton Academy, and most of her time was spent with her new friends in the grounds of the school, the dread rose up in her whenever the holidays approached.

  There was only so long she could survive in that flat in Liverpool, breathing air that was stale with her mother’s misery. And, although there was a nostalgic tether that tugged at her every time she left, although the cracked roads rose up to meet her, although her mother begged her not to leave when the term began – the tide of dread and self-preservation was always stronger, beckoning Poppy further and further out again.

  JUNO

  15.07.12

  BY SUNDAY, JUNO WAS convinced she had not seen Poppy leave their cabin all week. Poppy had tried to convince the senior astronauts that she was too ill to attend lessons or group mealtimes. And, as the days went by, the senior crew were getting more and more concerned. Every time Fae or Commander Sheppard attempted to talk to her about it, Poppy would burst into tears. Sheppard had suggested that they give her ‘some space,’ that perhaps she needed more time to adjust to their new environment, but by mid-July Juno was sure that they should try another form of intervention.

  She woke up early that morning and went for a run. Once she’d showered she headed up to the comms deck, where Poppy was supposed to be running software updates. Instead, she found Eliot and Astrid hunched over the keyboard, both their ears covered with headphones.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Juno asked, looking down at her watch. Astrid and Eliot stared unflinchingly at the display, her face cast in pale light, his eyes far away.

  When Juno tapped her sister on the shoulder, she jolted, then looked up with a startled intake of breath.

  ‘I can’t hear you,’ she shouted, even as she pulled her headphones off her ears.

  ‘Where’s Poppy?’ Juno asked.

  ‘Where she always is,’ Astrid said with a shrug, ‘our bedroom.’ She touched her headphones, already threatening to put them back on, then she turned to her sister with a frown. ‘What were you doing?’

  ‘I just went for a run.’

  Astrid stared at her. ‘It’s not your day,’ she said, her voice spiked with suspicion. ‘You don’t do cardio on Sundays.’

  ‘You don’t do comms ever,’ Juno said, gesturing towards the monitors.

  Astrid’s eyes brightened with excitement. ‘Eliot’s showing me how to use the new communications software. Want to have a look?’ She gestured toward a little navigation display. ‘See, that’s us.’ She pointed to a little blip just under the amber disc of Mars. Jupiter was cut off in the corner of the screen, so Juno could only see the pale arc of its edge in the schematic. In the dotted path of their ship’s trajectory was an ivory bubble, which represented Europa. ‘That’s the Orlando.’ Astrid pointed to a tiny flashing light on the moon’s perimeter. ‘Though you can’t really see it, and we won’t be able to until we get a bit closer. But we’re getting near enough to tune in to them. In a week we’ll be able to have a conversation in real time.’

  The thought filled Juno with excitement. The rendezvous with the American space station had been added relatively late to their itinerary, so soon before the launch that Juno had all but forgotten about it. She and her crewmates had been about ten years old when the first expedition launched, so young that Juno had grown up with the distant sense that there had always been people orbiting Jupiter’s icy moon.

  The first astronauts to go had been Captain Omar Briggs and Dr Sie Yan, a married couple who specialized in xenobiology. It made Juno’s mind reel when she realized that for over a decade the two of them had been staring down the lens of a microscope, working to genetically engineer a crop of plants capable of thriving in the ocean that was hidden under the frozen surface of Europa. ‘A decade alone in a box is enough to test any marriage,’ Commander Sheppard often said with a laugh. He’d been the best man at their wedding, and he and Briggs had shared a tent for seven months when they scaled Olympus Mons.

  The second expedition to the Orlando had launched years later. The astronauts involved were young recruits who’d emerged from the USA’s space academy system: Kennedy, James and Cal, the smiling, suntanned forerunners of the Beta. Juno couldn’t wait to meet them.

  ‘Can you talk to anyone on that?’ she asked, nodding at the computer.

  ‘Sure. If they’re within range,’ Eliot said, then he rolled his eyes up in thought. ‘We can always send messages. But, obviously, the further out we go the further the signal has to travel. And the longer we have to wait for a response. By the time we reach Saturn it will take about eighty minutes for Earth to get our messages, and the same amount of time for us to hear a response. So, you know, no kind of real-time conversation will really be possible. But, we don’t have to think about that for a while . . .’

  ‘And the Orlando is the furthest human outpost,’ Astrid finished. ‘The furthest humans have travelled in our solar system.’

  ‘Except for the Shēngmìng,’ Juno said.

  ‘Well, not really.’ Eliot took his hands off the control deck. ‘No one knows where that ship is. Or if it’s even still out there.’

  ‘Of course it’s out there,’ Juno replied. Although the Chinese generation ship had gone radio silent around two years ago, Juno still imagined it floating like a shadow through the solar system, making its slow way to Terra-Two. The Chinese government had launched it four years ago – a bright vessel with 100 passengers, on a trip expected to last a century. Sometimes Juno wondered what it would be like to leave Earth behind, and – unlike the crew of the Damocles, who had access to Igor’s technology – to know for certain that only her grandchildren or great-grandchildren would ever set foot on Terra-Two. What would they be like by the time they arrived? The children of another century, whose parents and grandparents had lived and died in the void? It had seemed inhumane to Juno, to raise children in the sanitized air of a spaceship, who would live and die without ever seeing a cloud or touching a lake. By the time they reached their promised destination, would they even remember what they were looking for?

  Two years ago, the crew on the Shēngmìng had filed for the right to be recognized as a separate state, which led to an inquiry into life on the ship. Their commander, Zhang Wei, had died and been replaced by the scientist Xiao Lin, whose voice crowded the airwaves f
or a while. They had painted a new flag, changed their name and written up a constitution. The astronauts refused to be considered employees of the Chinese National Space Administration and proudly presented themselves as citizens of a new country.

  They had debated it in school. Some argued that the Outer Space Treaty meant that a spacecraft could not be considered an independent country. To many, the idea was ridiculous. And yet there was no denying that the citizens of the Shēngmìng appeared to have adopted their own set of laws and system of government, and lived in harmony under its jurisdiction.

  ‘We have built a beautiful country,’ Xiao Lin had said.

  And now Juno could imagine how it happened; of course the tightly knit group of astronauts, sharing space, sharing food, united against the hostile environment outside, would come to identify with each other, come to rely on and love one another to the exclusion of everything else in the universe. ‘For all we know, they could all be dead,’ said the cynical spokespeople when the ship went silent. But this speculation was squashed once the government picked up video feeds of smiling people in flight suits, their faces reflected in the glassy torus of the deck. At their feet were bouncing children with free access to education, healthcare, food, everyone working to give back to each other. It sounded like a utopia to Juno.

  ‘But we could find them, theoretically,’ she pushed, not prepared to abandon the notion.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Eliot said. ‘The mission was suspended after they declared independence.’

  ‘And in a year or so, their space agency will probably try again. Maybe with a faster engine this time,’ Astrid said. ‘One that might reach Terra-Two sooner.’

  ‘But not faster than us,’ Eliot said with a gap-toothed smile. ‘This is a “race” after all. We have to get there first. And anyway, if the Shēngmìng is out there somewhere, if they’re still on the course set by their flight engineers, they’d be somewhere just beyond Jupiter by now. Maybe.’

  So, theoretically, we could see them? Juno thought, but she didn’t have time to voice her question before the sound of feet came thudding up the ladder. When she turned around she was face to face with Harry, who smelt like coffee and menthol.

  ‘Hey there,’ he said. ‘Having a little party on the comms deck?’

  ‘I’m doing the software update,’ Astrid said. ‘Eliot’s teaching me.’

  Juno remembered why she’d come to the comms deck in the first place. ‘Poppy’s supposed to be doing that.’ She frowned.

  ‘Can’t you leave off it today, at least?’ Harry said.

  ‘I’m just saying—’

  ‘Today is her birthday. So she probably wants to lie in bed and cry or something.’

  ‘Oh,’ Juno said, guiltily.

  Astrid smacked her hands over her eyes and groaned. ‘I forgot!’

  They all had. They’d been on the ship for two months and already the lightless days had taken on a strange uniformity. Juno found it difficult to believe that on Earth it was summer. In London, the sun was rising at 5 a.m. and setting at 10 p.m. In just under two weeks the Olympic games would begin. But here there was no change in temperature to mark the passing of the seasons, no marigold leaves or humid, impossibly long twilight.

  They gathered a few minutes later with the senior crew in the kitchen for Sunday breakfast, which was normally an hour later, and began the one day they did not have to attend lessons or do many chores.

  The calendar next to the fridge was divided into ten columns. Juno ran her finger down Poppy’s, found that day’s date. The words ‘Poppy is twenty’ burst from its borders, the tails of the Ys trailing into curlicues.

  Juno left the kitchen and headed back into the dormitory, where Poppy was drowning in duvet covers. When Juno called her name she cracked open an eye laced with sleep-grit. She wore a night-slip that she had not taken off for a week, pale-pink cotton that was grey around the edges. Her ginger hair was matted, skin white as bone.

  ‘Hey, Poppy . . . ?’ Juno stepped tentatively over to the side of the bed and felt the metallic crunch of a chocolate wrapper under her heel. Poppy grunted in acknowledgement.

  ‘You need to get out of bed.’ Juno had not seen Poppy at a single meal in the past week – although Fae came downstairs twice a day with a tray to try to coax her into taking a few bites. Juno was not sure she had even spotted Poppy stepping in or out of the shower. Her corner of the room was ripe with the smell of an unwashed body.

  ‘I’m tired,’ she sighed. ‘Gimme an hour.’

  ‘When did you last get up?’ Juno asked.

  The radio was on low. Poppy had tuned it to whatever channel she could find, and at that moment two men were conversing in a guttural language Juno did not recognize. Every now and then their voices were washed out by a sea of static.

  ‘Poppy.’ Juno’s voice tightened in irritation. ‘What day is it?’

  ‘Thursday . . . ?’

  ‘No.’

  On Earth, Poppy had been the type of person to send out calligraphed ‘Save the Date’ cards two months before her birthday parties.

  ‘You know. You must know what day it is,’ Juno pressed.

  ‘Saturday . . . ?’

  ‘Poppy!’

  Poppy moaned, reached out a pale arm from under the duvet and swatted Juno lazily away as if she were a fly.

  ‘Go away,’ she said, and rolled over to face the wall. ‘It’s not like days even exist up here. Only night.’

  Juno left the room, her stomach knotting up inside her. When she entered the kitchen Commander Sheppard and Fae were standing at the head of the table. Eliot and Astrid were on breakfast duty, adding water to dried milk and measuring out rations of cereal, while the others were seated opposite each other, Jesse playing Solitaire, the cards organized in neat black and red rows, Harry watching a recording of the news on his computer.

  ‘Juno.’ Fae exhaled slightly.‘You’re here.’ She kept an eye on the door, and after it slid shut she continued. ‘We’re concerned about Poppy.’

  Commander Sheppard nodded in agreement. ‘This can’t go on for much longer,’ he said. ‘This is an important mission and she has duties to fulfil. The team on the ground are furious. She hasn’t sent a video update in two weeks.’

  ‘I’ve been covering it,’ Eliot said.

  ‘I know you have.’ Commander Sheppard nodded at him. ‘But you have your own duties and it should not be necessary.’

  ‘But she’s sick,’ Jesse said, placing a seven of diamonds atop an eight, ‘it’s not her fault.’ Fae and Commander Sheppard exchanged a look.

  ‘I’ve been visiting her for extra counselling sessions. She says that she’s suffering from migraines, but I’m inclined to believe at this point that there is nothing physically wrong with her.’

  ‘Physically,’ Harry muttered.

  ‘So now we’re faced with two options,’ Commander Sheppard said, making a steeple of his fingers. ‘Sanctions, or—’

  ‘Sanctions?’ Astrid turned with a gasp. ‘It’s her birthday.’

  ‘July the fifteenth,’ Fae said with a grimace, ‘Yes. Of course.’ They stood in silence for a moment before the microwave dinged and Eliot started.

  ‘We can get her a gift . . . or something,’ Astrid suggested tentatively. ‘We could make a cake.’

  ‘A party,’ Jesse said, throwing his arms up theatrically. ‘Let’s make it a party.’

  ‘I know how to make cake,’ Astrid said.

  Fae’s face brightened a little. ‘That’s a lovely idea. That might really cheer her up.’

  ‘Okay!’ Astrid clapped her hands together and grinned. ‘What do we need? Sugar, flour rations . . .’ She was counting on her fingers. ‘Some decorations, party games, a gift . . .’

  ‘I can find something,’ Jesse said.

  Astrid nodded towards him and Juno. ‘Great. You guys look for a gift. Eliot and I can make a start on a cake.’

  ‘Great,’ Fae said. ‘A party at five o’clock. What a delightful idea.’
Commander Sheppard gave a sceptical smile.

  Juno followed Jesse down to the crew module, but stopped when she reached the threshold of the boys’ cabin.

  ‘You can come in, you know,’ he said, and she stepped inside uncertainly.

  The boys’ cabin was like the girls’, only a little smaller. The bunks were oblong alcoves in the walls with a net curtain for privacy. They had done little to decorate their space. Eliot’s was the only bed that was draped in a hand-knitted patchwork quilt and not the UKSA-issued navy duvet covers that reminded Juno of the spartan dormitories they had left behind at the space centre. All their beds were neatly made, the duvets folded under the mattress the way they had been taught. Only Jesse’s bunk was a mess. He had never properly unpacked, and his things spilled from his trunk. Tie-dyed scarves were draped over the curtain rails, old documents had been folded up into paper cranes that hung from threads above his bed. He was growing an ivy plant above his bed, the spidery arms of it pinned to the wall. It was beautiful to see this little bit of nature staking claim to a corner of their ship. ‘That’s cool,’ Juno said, gesturing to it.

  ‘Yeah, thanks,’ Jesse said. ‘I’m hoping that eventually all the walls around the bed will be covered in it, so I’ll feel as if I’m sleeping in a treehouse.’

  ‘You haven’t unpacked yet?’ Juno said, glancing at a pile of books atop a maroon rug.

  ‘Oh,’ Jesse said, and began to rummage through his things, ‘I never unpack. By the time I unpack I almost always have to re-pack a month later.’ He grinned. ‘Sorry. I might have cleaned up a little if I known I’d have company.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Blushing, Juno stepped back to sit on Eliot’s pristine bed.

  The bunk above Jesse’s belonged to Harry. He’d pinned up a few school ties, the full and half colours he’d received for academic achievements. Brass and silver tankards glistened on the shelf by his head.

  ‘Right.’ Jesse recovered a box from under a pile of crumpled clothes. ‘I think . . . in here . . .’ He was rummaging through it, chucking out books, sachets of coffee and bags of beads. Juno watched him. She had never been able to guess where exactly Jesse was from, and now it seemed too late to ask. His voice had a slightly Irish lilt but his skin was a kind of bronze that appeared coppery in the right light. Around his temples and under his braids his jet black hair was loosely curled. It occurred to Juno that she actually knew very little about this boy who she had lived with since the launch.