Spaceship Thrive (Thrive Space Colony Adventures Book 2)

by Ginger Booth

  “Mr. Acosta was caught in the act, in guest berthing. There will be no repeat performance. He will not enter that room again. Oh, and your wife is crying.” She recounted how that came to be, then rose. “Enjoy.”

  17

  Virtual reality addiction was a scourge even on old Earth, where the technology originated. Sensory immersion forms were especially addictive, usually geared to sex and violence.

  “Brinn!” Kassidy squealed with glee at the screen. She kissed the display of her agent back in Mahina Actual. “I’ve missed you!”

  Clay prudently decided to decamp while Kassidy took her turn at video comms.

  “Did you love my show?” Kassidy crooned. Clay zip-squealed her special moon-side for her yesterday. The star was certain Brinn had doted on every minute three times by now.

  “Darling, I just got it an hour ago from the censors. You were wonderful! I watched it twice.”

  Kassidy batted her eyelashes and forced her grin to stay put. “You didn’t have time to watch it twice. I sent a two hour special.”

  Brinn rolled her eyes. “Only 25 minutes survived the censors, sweetie. Here, I’ll zip it back to you.”

  “But it was good? Did you love it?” Kassidy pressed, while the agent balled up the show and transfered it. Live video and audio quality degraded as the narrow bandwidth was shared with the data transfer.

  “Oh, the shots outside the station were incredible!” Brinn assured her. “There were some quiet stretches on the sound-track. I may need to fill those in with music. I’ll find something, don’t worry. And clobber together some best-of video to fill out the hour. And next week. When will you send new material again?”

  “We have no good comms with Sagamore. Even texts need to be sent in triplicate. It’s awful. I won’t bore you with why. Damn. I thought I’d have tons of footage for you, sweetie!”

  Brinn shrugged. “It’s only… How long until you’re back from Sagamore? That’s where you’re going next?”

  “No. First to a mining platform. Then Sagamore Orbital. Then Sagamore. Then back, I think. Or we might need to visit the Hell’s Bells again, the mining platform. Could be months.”

  Brinn screwed her lips up sideways and raised her eyebrows.

  “What’s wrong, darling?” Kassidy cried.

  “Kassidy, I’m not sure how you’ll pay my salary. Oh, you know how much I love you sweetie! But.”

  Kassidy gave her most sultry smile. “You have a better offer?”

  “Oh, honey, it’s complete garbage! You’d hate it! But there is a settler show. You know, a real settler show. They’re positioning themselves as sort of the anti-Kassidy.”

  “You cat.”

  Brinn flipped a wrist at her. “Don’t be that way. You know I’m your undying fan. I’ll ditch them when you get back!”

  “Anti-Kassidy,” she purred. “What exactly…?”

  “Beer pong. Mowing races. Your settler fans will be bored to tears, pining for your new material. Which will be fabulous!”

  “How is that anti-Kassidy?”

  “Oh, negative advertising. You know. Kassidy Yang is a privileged rich bitch urb. Our show features real settlers, real concerns. Probably every one of them is stretched by not wearing their gravity. You know how settlers are. So thoughtless. So stupid.”

  Kassidy pursed her lips, and not for a kiss. “Brinn, we don’t feel that way about settlers.”

  “Well, they certainly think that way about us. Kassidy, you’re out of touch. Urb versus settler sentiment is rising. Another show is planned going after your urb fans, of course.”

  “You producing that one, too, Brinn?”

  “So far I’m just advising. But I do understand your brand and your chemistry better than anyone else. So don’t worry about me. I’ll cover my expenses.”

  Kassidy wanted to throttle her. But her only access to her fans was through this woman’s hands. Thankfully, her power of attorney lay with her lawyer. She smiled warmly. “I’m sure you will. And how much money will I have left?”

  “Well, you don’t need any in space, silly! Maybe 5000 a month. Would you like me to pack up your apartment for you? That’ll save what, 2000 or so?”

  “Don’t trouble yourself. I do need to go, though. Bye, Brinn! And thank you so much for all your help!” They smiled and wiggled fingers at each other as the screen went black.

  Kassidy connected to her lawyer as fast as she could figure out the interface. She’d lose the signal in 10 minutes. “Steve! Get my money out of Brinn’s clutches. And make sure my video plays to my fans on Glow. What’s left of it, anyway. The censors limited me to 2 hours, then they ate three quarters of that. Help!”

  “You want to press charges?” Steve inquired happily. “On Brinn. You have no leverage against security.”

  “I also have no money.”

  Steve continued to smile blandly. Kassidy sighed. “Do what you can until the retainer runs out. And I’ll owe you.”

  “Would you like to contact your mother –”

  “No! Well, if you have to. Just get control of my business back from Brinn?”

  “Of course, Kassidy. And are you well, up in the stars?”

  “Yeah. A pauper, but I’m very well. It’s amazing –”

  “Please don’t tell me anything they would censor out. The paperwork is tedious.”

  “Right. I hope to be back in a few months. With a ton of absolutely fantastic footage –”

  “Which they’ll confiscate,” Steve replied, still unconcerned. “A word of advice, Kassidy? Put the cameras away. Enjoy the time of your life. Come back wiser, better. Older.”

  Kassidy smiled bitterly. She hired a smart lawyer, not a kind one. “Thank you Steve. See you in a few months.”

  Damn, damn, damn!

  Belatedly, she jumped out of the seat and hailed Clay over intercom. “Four minutes left. I’m done. Thank you!”

  As she exited the door, Sass came scurrying up. “Sass, I need to talk to you –”

  “I’m next on video,” Sass said, slipping by her into the cabin.

  “I only have a couple minutes,” Sass said to Atlas Pratt. His warm and kindly face beamed in pleasure to see hers.

  Atlas looked fifty-something, by old Earth standards. The urb nanites that kept him young were turned off when he was sentenced to the phosphate mines for treason in the rebellion 20 years ago. He could probably get them restored now. Atlas was head of MA Medical in his day, forgiven, and well-loved.

  Sass wouldn’t put it past him to never accept a nanite again unless it was also offered to the settlers. Unlike most urbs, Atlas had principles and character.

  “Tell me it’s going well, with the creches?” Sass begged.

  Atlas chuckled. “Well for a couple weeks. Takes time. You look great. Can I give your love to anyone?”

  “Only you. I had to say good-bye to someone on Mahina.”

  “And Hunter?” Atlas suggested wryly.

  “Sure,” Sass agreed.

  “I’m glad you’re with Clay.”

  “Not you?” she flirted. She deeply admired Atlas Pratt. To live by his ethical code, protect Clay’s secrets, still fight for the settlers despite everything, as a prisoner at Phosphate Mine 3, and now back at Mahina Actual – Atlas impressed the hell out of her.

  And he laughed at her. “I’m flattered, Sass. But you’re a bit old for me. And Hunter. Give Clay a chance. He’s not the man you thought he was.”

  “You’ll hold the vision for us til we get back?”

  “I will. And you will come back.”

  “I will.” The video was starting to break up. “God bless you, Atlas.”

  His response was drowned by a maelstrom of confetti before the screen went black.

  Sass left to find Clay working in her cabin. “Thank you for doing this. We’re being an awful nuisance.”

  The other cop shrugged that off. “A day in the life. Who’d you talk to?”

  “Atlas. To assure him of my esteem.”


  Clay frowned slightly. “Nobody else?”

  Sass rapped on the door frame. “Everyone I really care about is here with me. Except your son. Better you talk to him. And Copeland?”

  “In 65 minutes,” Clay assured her. “That’s the last of it. The rest said their good-byes before we launched, and ceded their time to Copeland.”

  Sass’s lips curled into a proud smile. “Good crew.”

  “They are indeed.”

  “Kassidy?” Sass asked, passing the young star exiting the office just as she headed in.

  The dark-haired beauty flashed her a sad smile. “I told Abel. I’m sorry.” And she scurried off to her cabin.

  Sass continued in to her seat across from Abel. In practice, this desk had two equal sides, the partners working across from each other when they were both in there. “She’s sorry?”

  “She’s broke,” Abel replied. He rattled off Kassidy’s detailed woes. “Our biggest client can’t even pay us what she already owes us. Or rent.”

  “She’s not demanding to go back down, right when we’re leaving, is she?”

  “No, we covered that,” Abel assured her. “And no one in their right mind would want to stay on MO. She’s safe here on the Thrive. She wants to come with. And she’ll keep filming. It’s unclear whether she’ll be able to show that footage. But she wants to chronicle the journey just the same.”

  Sass nodded, impressed. “And we’re broke.”

  “Pretty much,” Abel confirmed. “There’s no way we can meet those commitments we made to MO. We can’t cover another two containers of protein stock on their next skyship delivery.”

  “Clay can,” Sass said softly.

  “As a loan?” Abel looked skeptical. “Or ownership share?”

  “Abel, it’s better for you if he accepts part ownership. Silent partner. That would come out of my equity, not yours. He has the cash. He’s willing to underwrite the voyage. I don’t like it any better than you do.”

  Abel swallowed hard. “How much equity?”

  “You’ve run the numbers. You tell me.”

  He brought up the calculations. “It comes to 12%. He’ll be second owner. Not me.”

  Sass circled the 12% figure and scribbled ‘10+2.’ “I suggest it’s his call. But my suggestion would be to offer equal equity to you, and the rest as his contribution to the cause. Or maybe he can get Josiah to pony up 2%. Are you OK with that?”

  Abel let out a long slow breath. “He’d make a better partner than me. Smarter. Vast experience. Connections out the wazoo. Deep pockets. Way deeper than Kassidy’s. The guy is rich.”

  “You’re my choice of partner. To run the ship. Clay’s not a people manager, Abel. He’s rich because he put money away, year after year, and let investment professionals manage it. He doesn’t wheel and deal. And he especially doesn’t cut his genteel fingers to fix archaic flying machines.”

  Abel scowled at her. “Aren’t you a bit too critical where Clay’s concerned? You’re not that way with anyone else. Clay is fine with people. Bit standoffish. What did he do to you?”

  “He was my boss,” Sass bit out. “I broke him in. He’s better now. Look, water under the bridge. The question now is, can you stand him as part owner?”

  “You don’t need my permission. You own 90% of the Thrive. You can sell it to whoever you want.”

  “But you’re worried that Clay and Sass will take over, and Abel and Jules will be out in the cold. Abel, I won’t do that. You’re my business partner. I don’t want Clay to replace you. Even if he owns more of the ship than you do. You’d still own 10%, and you’re still first mate.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Not really. “Absolutely. Bring him in now? Because tomorrow morning is final negotiations with Mahina. After that, they’re out of range.”

  Abel nodded, grateful. “Let’s do it.”

  The meeting was brief, because Clay only had another 15 minutes before he played nursemaid to Copeland’s video call with Nico. But they did the deed, and he didn’t blink at the terms – 10% silent partner and 2% loan. And the protein stocks for MO were covered.

  18

  Every human colony adopted creches for child-rearing. The environments were simply too hostile to do otherwise.

  “Finally,” Clay said, hastily vacating his seat for Copeland to slide into.

  “Mr. Copeland!” Dr. Agassiz greeted him, with a warm smile.

  Copeland barely registered the pediatrician. His toddler Nico sat in the man’s lap, playing with a couple interlocking blocks in baby-friendly colors. “Hey, Nico, little man,” he crooned. “It’s Dad. Are you having fun?”

  Dr. Agassiz pointed to him. “Nico, see Daddy?”

  The baby looked blankly at the screen. The doctor tickled him until he smiled and giggled. He dropped the blocks and reached a drool-shiny hand toward the camera, growing alarmingly in Copeland’s view to twice the size of his head on the desk display. He laughed.

  “Yeah, it’s me, buddy. But you can’t touch me. I wish I could touch you!” Feeling like an idea, Copeland rose and kissed the camera. Nico squealed in delight and put his face into the screen, not the camera. His father got a fuzzy closeup of growing hair and an adorable ear.

  “Can you say ‘hi Dad,’ Nico?” the doctor encouraged.

  “He talks?” Copeland asked, astonished.

  “Say Dad,” Agassiz coaxed. “Dad.”

  Nico concentrated in a pudgy-faced frown. “Ba.”

  “No, not your bottle. Your Dad.”

  “Da. Ba.”

  “Wow, Nico!” Copeland marveled. “What a smart little man you are!” The child had come so far in such a short time. Unresponsive and blue-skinned, to vibrantly healthy and asserting what he wanted, in a few short weeks. “You like blocks, huh? I play with blocks, too.” Great big blocks, interlocking ones, too. He’d just finished affixing the container of broken star drives to the bottom of the ship on EVA.

  “He doesn’t understand what I’m saying, does he?” he asked the doctor.

  “He understands that you delight in him, and that matters,” Agassiz returned. “And he recognizes you. You like Dad, right, Nico?”

  “Ba.”

  Copeland laughed. “Yeah, smart guy. You like your bottle more than your Dad.”

  “Da.”

  Copeland reached out and stroked his face on the camera, using the self-display as a guide. Then he did a little finger-play of scissors attacking his other hand’s fingers. Nico watched transfixed. The engineer made soft fists and bopped them together from different angles. Nico sucked on a fist, watching intently.

  “I can’t think of anything else,” the dad confessed. “Is he doing well? He looks great. Happy. Healthy.”

  “He is well. And he is very smart. Aren’t you, Nico? He’s catching up fast from his little setback. Running around.”

  “Still falling all the time?”

  “Not so much. He’s fine. Talk to him, not me.” The doctor smiled encouragement. “You don’t need new material. Babies like repetition.”

  “Oh, right.” Copeland repeated his finger play while he spoke. “I won’t be able to talk to you for a while, little guy. I’m going even farther away. But I miss you. And I love you. Dad loves Nico.”

  Nico tried bopping his fists together like Dad, and got frustrated.

  Copeland kept it up. “You can do it, buddy. Simpler. Like this.”

  Another five minutes was more of this mindless repetition than the intelligent adult brain could stand. But Nico enjoyed it, and eventually managed to bop his fists together, with peals of glee at his accomplishment. “Da!”

  “Nico, I know you can’t understand. But I’m doing this for you, buddy. I’m going away to find something to help you stay healthy and happy. But you’re better off safe where you are, playing. You wouldn’t like space. I love you.”

  “Da. Ba.”

  The timer was down to 5 minutes before they lost video range. “You need anything from me, doctor?
Before I disappear.”

  “No. We have all the permissions we need. Mr. Copeland, some parents in a dangerous profession leave a video. Speak to an older Nico who has questions about why Dad left him. Just in case.” He beamed kindness.

  “Good idea,” Copeland breathed. He cleared his throat and repeated it audibly. “I’ll let you go. Love you, little guy! Bye, Nico.”

  “Wave bye-bye?” Agassiz encouraged, directing the baby’s chubby arm.

  Nico allowed that and then thrust a wet fist at the screen. “Ba ba. Da.”

  “Safe journey, Mr. Copeland.” Agassiz signed off.

  Clay placed a hand on his shoulder compassionately. “Sorry, I need to send some data before we lose the window.”

  “Right.” Copeland shot up out of the chair. “Thank you, man. For the…”

  “No problem. I’m using the next window to say good-bye to my son Hunter.” But he really did need to seize the bandwidth to send his data packet. MO was passing toward the star side of Mahina, where only the phosphate mines dwelled. His fingers flew to get that accomplished.

  Copeland ducked out to take a seat at the top of the slide, fixing the encounter in memory, second-guessing what he should have said to the doctor. Damn, he should have –

  “I recorded,” Clay said, coming out to join him. “Sent you the file location.”

  Copeland breathed out, and nodded. “Thanks, man.”

  Clay squatted on the catwalk, despite his habitual dress shoes and slacks. “Not just a favor, Copeland. Nico is a priority. If we didn’t talk to him today, Sass would have rescheduled our departure. We care. All of us. This trip is for Nico as much as anyone.”

  He slipped to a seat on the catwalk beside the engineer, heedless of his expensive trousers. “Going to record that video? To a teenage Nico? They’d probably show it to him around age 18. Or you will. I don’t know what I would have said to Hunter.”

  The two men, seemingly different as could be, fell to brainstorming the challenge together. What to say in a video to a teenager he’d never met, who was nevertheless his son. Who had questions about his missing dad, why the man abandoned his child.