The Sunseed Saga

by Brett Bam

  The bulk of the space station mushroomed out from the upper atmosphere like a tiny flower. The outer hull of the station bristled with communications equipment and docking stations, short stunted radar towers beamed information across the vacuum. Traffic around the harbour was heavy, with designated flight paths and holding orbits strictly controlled.

  The outer skin of the harbour was covered in lumpy ice, reservoirs of water collected and frozen into massive, chaotic, crystalline spheres which were accelerated towards various destinations, maintaining the waterlines and supplying the solar system. It was a massive industry, continuous and efficient and ubiquitous.

  On the earthward side of the station was the magnetic tether generator machinery, another marvel of unbelievable science produced by the Protocol, and beyond the understanding of men. The Earth Sphere Science Corporation had been researching them for centuries and still could not explain how they functioned or what powered them. They could observe the effect but the cause still mystified them.

  Earth Harbour was tethered to the planet by a massive magnetic field anchored in the Sahara Desert. Its thick purple rainbow bent into the sky over tremendous distance to touch the city, dragging the station over the atmosphere like a swinging pendulum. The centrifugal force was constant, allowing its occupants the simulation of gravity, and with a slight reorientation they could operate comfortably with the Earth in the place of the sky.

  They watched as a tube smoked its way into existence stretching down the purple rainbow. Something came screaming up, a bright spark travelling at awesome velocity towards the harbour. It slowed its run as it neared, the tube closing and constricting it, halting its mad plunge. It was one of the huge ponderous freight lifts which rode from the earth to the harbour, pushed and pulled precisely through the atmosphere and into the city in the sky. Looking towards Earth, Dalys could see a staggered neon chain of glittering motes floating through the purple tinted haze, hundreds of elevators streaming back and forth.

  The machinery for the tether was housed in a depression and surrounded by support stations, maintenance depots, cargo bays, manufacturing franchises, goods warehouses, laboratories and offices. It was a hugely industrious area with transport rails and roads leading in all directions. The area was streaming with various sizes of traffic, from the small and quick which scurried everywhere, to cranes and towers, static and looming over the landscape. It was a chaos of machinery that rivalled a bee swarm in its complexity.

  Around the fringes of this industry zone was the office district, where the bureaucracy oversaw the cares and complaints of interplanetary trade to the Community of Man, the Korporatsie, the Kingdom of Saturn, and the Jovian Senate.

  Dalys began her final approach to docking manoeuvres, Oscar correlated the data fast and efficiently, handling communications details with the harbour and squirting info graphics dictating approach vectors and details of regulated procedure.

  The trip to Earth had taken almost three weeks, in that time Oscar had managed to find a place amongst this rag tag crew. Surprisingly, for a Martian, he had proven oblivious to Moabi’s skin colour. He was instead terrified by the sheer size of the muscular giant, although charmed in equal part by his quick smile and easy laugh. After fifteen minutes together, the big black man had been forced to correct Oscar’s pronunciation of his name.

  “Little man. My name is not mo-ah-bi. You dishonour my ancestors! You will say

  M-Wah-Bee. You try.”

  Oscar got it right on the seventh try.

  Dalys was still amused by the memory of telling Oscar that he would be bunking with Moabi. The newcomer had been horrified, but too awestruck to object. Dalys was happy with the arrangement because it left the data rat under supervision. The irony of the situation did not escape her. It was a true reversal of fortune, Korporatsie and slave exchanging places. When the big black man had softened to Oscar the rest of the crew followed suit, and Dalys had breathed a sigh of relief. Dalys wondered if the boy would have taken the risk of approaching her if he had suspected Moabi was onboard.

  Instead, another problem had developed. Most of the crew had some sort of military training, they were an efficient bunch of people, which ran contrary to Oscar’s basic nature. He was casual and laid-back and thought nothing of long shaggy hair and youthful beards. He wore soft comfortable clothes and tended to put his feet up on things when he sat. The crew abhorred sloppiness and Dalys ran a tight ship. But, the adjustment was eventually to come from both sides, and soon Oscar stopped putting his feet up and even pinned his long hair back out of his eyes, while the crew eased off on their hazing and resorted to humour. Dalys still didn’t trust him though, and so he was barred from most of the ship’s controlling systems.

  He thought he had been doing an admirable job so far. Whenever Dalys needed anything done he jumped on it. Dalys had proven to be a woman to admire, her strength and charisma dominated the ship and the crew were all fiercely loyal. Oscar found himself unconsciously mimicking many of Dalys’ small habits and quirks. He was already losing his accent and speaking with the same softer, rounder inflections and drawls of Dalys’ Saturnian accent. He had a gift for quickly finding relevant information, his searches and procedures were far more efficient than anyone else on board.

  Moabi was scrambling to keep up with Oscar, collecting the docking information squirted to his console before filtering it to the navigation computer.

  Dalys found the control pads neatly calibrating to Oscars input as she manipulated them. She boosted the Ribbontail, and the ship rose into the river of ice particles. Ice cascaded from the hull in a shower, creating a magnificent rainbow as the rising sun refracted through the frozen mass. Dalys grinned at Moabi’s startled face when the impact monitor flashed maximum alert; she knew better than anyone what this ship could do.

  With a slight graceful twist of her bulk, she slid the Ribbontail into the mouth of the approach vector and slowed the ship to a polite speed. She coasted toward the docking spindles and gently slid into a berth. Firing little bursts of compressed air, she made the complicated docking manoeuvre seem as easy as a ballerina performing a pirouette.

  There was a dull thud as the harbour’s magnetic docking clamps locked on. Supply feeds and data cables snaked through the vacuum and attached unerringly to the ship’s terminals.

  Dalys monitored the connections and watched as the Ribbontail began to pump air and water into her systems from the harbour’s reservoirs while evacuating waste and grey water. She automatically ordered filters for the air scrubbers before anything else.

  “That’s it guys. I’ll take it from here.”

  The crew began to strip their harnesses and climb out of their gravity sleeves, consoles were set to slumber. There were a large number of maintenance tasks that demanded attention. They all had work to do to ensure the ship was safe and sound.

  “Showing off a little Captain?” asked Moabi as he unstrapped. As the biggest member of the crew, it always took him longer.

  “Who me? Never. I’m a responsible woman, wouldn’t think of it.”

  Oscar walked by Dalys’ console on his way out. “Something to eat skipper?”

  “No thanks Oscar, I’m going to be here a while.”

  Moabi turned and followed him out of the compartment.

  The shutdown would take several hours. Dalys had to wait for the confinement chamber pressure levels to even out, and then the acceleration helix had to cool before she could fold the dissipater fans away. She watched the levels decrease as the crew completed their duties.

  Alone on the RHS, she cherished the moment of isolation, they were few and far between.

  She tapped her display and swept a finger across the screen to open the image of the planet below. It was taken from one of the stern cameras. Africa was on show, bathed in full sunlight.

  “Hello Mama.” she whispered. Africa had been spared much of the destruction of the rest of the globe, but it still bore blatant scars. The Protocol had a great deal
of work to do down there before humans could move back to the planet and walk freely under a blanket of kind weather.

  Dalys had been dreaming of walking on that surface in just such a fashion for as long as she could remember. Now that she was so close, perhaps there was a chance to realise that dream.

  A feeling of nostalgia turned her mind to home. It was so far away but she could feel the distance stretching away across the vast emptiness. She wondered if she would ever stand beneath the domes of Titan again. Maybe not, but a stroll in Earth’s atmosphere would be worth it.

  With a mental shrug, before the grim mood turned to her family so far away, Dalys shelved the thought and bent to the task at hand. An hour passed, and then another. She grimaced, shifting against the gravity provided by the station’s spin, it was a little heavier than she was used to, but it was better than freefall for the time being. She stretched like a woman waking from a deep sleep and slid out of the couch sleeve in one quick motion. She ran her hands through her dark hair and rubbed her eyes in a feeble attempt to shake herself into physical activity. Eventually, she toggled the ship over onto automatic and left the rest of the shutdown to the ship’s computer, her stomach growled for a decent meal so she left the RHS and headed in the direction of the galley.

  The Ribbontail’s galley was the heart of the ship. All the crucial decisions made by the crew in the democratic way Dalys allowed originated here, normally over a huge meal and steaming mugs of fresh coffee. She ran the galley with fresh produce from the ship’s stores at huge expense as she believed that real food was essential to the soul. There was always a slight breeze caused by the vacuum niches on the walls. Any loose crumbs or drops of spilled liquid would gravitate toward the niches during zero g, keeping the place clean.

  Now however, their unexpected departure and long run through space meant that they had to rely on the cheaper materials available from the onboard synthetics, an unhealthier but common alternative. Dalys was sick of the bland fare of the synthetics, one of the first things they would do was replenish their stores and start eating properly again.

  The Ribbontail had an entire life support module dedicated to the galley. It was a precious space extravagantly occupied.

  When they were in freefall, Dalys kept the module spinning on an independent set of frictionless bearings which gave it the illusion of gravity. It made getting in through the airlock a little complicated, like hopping onto a merry-go-round at full tilt. Once you were on you were safe, it was getting off that was tricky. Dalys would often hesitate at the portal and watch as the crew spun around and around while apparently sitting quite comfortably. She would time the spin carefully and grab a rung welded to the spinning bulkhead as it swung past. When she was pulled into the gravity of the spinning module she would place her foot on a second rung. Holding on tightly she would accelerate to the speed of the spinning module. Once the room stabilised before her, she could take a step onto the deck of the galley. She would be left standing upright in the galley next to the others while the corridor rotated madly behind her. It was a simple manoeuvre once it was practiced, however Oscar still stumbled now and again. When he had first tried it, he went sprawling flat on the deck of the galley to the laughter of the crew.

  Now, in the gravity of the Harbour, the portal was fully dilated and the module was stationary, it was as simple as stepping through a door.

  Dalys could smell the coffee most of the crew were drinking, Jack Mac was passionate about his brews and he was a master barista to everyone’s benefit.

  Curtis Mac Aleer swung in from the passageway behind Dalys, her long hair still wet from her shower. She was the last to arrive and stepped through the portal, Amazonian in appearance. She stood a shade less than two metres tall, and wore a mane of luxurious golden hair that was spun with frictionless fibres to make it look luxurious even in a severe gravity field.

  The iris of her left eye was green flecked with brown, while a liquid blue sheen covered her right eye. It was a medical issue implant and could read what it observed in several different spectrums. This allowed a properly trained doctor to interpret the images and make extremely accurate diagnoses in moments, without having to rely solely on the unreliable description of physical symptoms by a stricken patient. It could perform a huge variety of functions, from reading body temperature to searching through cellular levels for malignant growths. The doctors eye was surrounded by a silver tattoo. It contained the circuitry which powered the eyepiece and it flickered as it functioned. As she entered, Curtis smiled at Dalys and deactivated the implant. The blue sheen seemed to flow over her eye as it was withdrawn into the storage lattice in the tattoo, transforming the blue eye to normal. Her smile highlighted the smattering of freckles on her nose. Along with her height and gorgeous mane of blonde hair, she was slim, sexy and friendly, a combination that had gotten the entire crew into trouble more than once.

  Jack Mac and Berea, never looked up from their perpetual board game, a complex affair with dice, blocks, pieces and patterns that Dalys didn’t understand. Jack Mac had been with her the longest. Their relationship going all the way back to the Royal Navy. They had both served during the worst years of the Endless War. When Dalys had launched the Ribbontail, Jack Mac had joined her and had never left. He was fond of telling her that it was for love of the ship that he stayed aboard. He truly did love this machine that carried them safely through space, and he knew it intimately. Dalys depended on the engineer so fervently it was almost religious, she would not fly without him.

  Berea was Jack Mac’s scandalously young lover. Dalys couldn’t see what the button-nosed beauty saw in the old sergeant, but she loved Berea for her devotion to Jack Mac. She specialised in cargo maintenance and could perform miracles with the icebergs they pushed. Both her arms were visible and covered in tattoos. Berea’s eyebrow piercing glimmered, betraying its true nature as a data crystal, her mouth twitched elfishly as she shifted a piece on the board. This week her hair was bright yellow and tightly permed, which contrasted strangely with her deep caramel skin and green eyes. Dalys quite liked the look, and sighed as she realised it would be gone tomorrow. Berea was a changeling, always coming up with new, different and most of all, colourful looks. The two played continuously on a real board that Jack Mac carved from a piece of plasfoam on their last long Jupiter run. It was permanently set up in the galley, and during their off shifts the two could be found staring endlessly at the pieces. Oscar was hovering over Berea’s shoulder, brimming with impatience.

  “You know, I could help you win for a change.”

  “Back off boy genius, you bother me.” She waved a hand in his face causing him to flinch away.

  “You could use the help you know. I would pay to see you win just once.” Jack Mac grinned at Berea’s scowl then watched as she knocked his gorilla off the table, replacing it with a Neanderthal man.

  Moabi was nowhere to be seen, but he was likely already stripped down and working hard in the gym while he had the chance. The Ribbontail had a wall of highly flexible and innovative resistance bands in the corridor between the fourth and fifth bulkheads, which provided a more than comprehensive workout regimen. Moabi was often found on the wall, pulling away and sweating greatly, his massive muscles straining against themselves and the bands he stretched.

  “Captain, your annual scan is overdue.” said Curtis and Dalys eyed her balefully.

  “I knew you were going to be after me about this. Should we schedule something?”

  “I could just do it now Dalys.”

  Curtis blinked and the silver tattoo on her face glowed. The blue sheen swirled over her eye like smoke beneath a mirror and Curtis got that far away look as if she were somewhere else. Being scanned always made Dalys uneasy. It was a very personal thing to have someone look so intently at you that they could see the flush of hormones under the skin. It made her feel vulnerable. Dalys forced herself to sit calmly as Curtis stared. She took a sip of coffee and knew that Curtis could see the hot liqu
id slide down her throat and into her stomach.

  “Hmm.” Said Curtis. “I’m not happy about some of your results. Have you been getting a lot of headaches?”

  “I’m fine doctor, thank you. As long as I meet the requirements of the medical, then that’s all that matters.”

  Curtis sighed, “OK Dalys, but do me a favour and eat some protein.”

  Dalys laughed as Moabi ducked through the portal, he smelled of soap.

  Oscar had his data glasses down over his eyes as he made coffee. The flashing lights from behind the glasses painted a rainbow across his brow and cheeks as he flicked through information. Dalys was looking at him when the light froze and shone white, while Oscars eyes moved rapidly across text.

  Oscar lifted the glasses and grinned at Dalys, “You might want to see this Skipper.”

  He squirted the information to the ship’s computer and pulled the data to the display in the galley.

  It was a message from the office of Earth Visit, officially inviting Dalys to tour the surface. Everybody moaned. They were all keen to get down there. Not only had they been spacebound for more than a few months, they had all expressed an interest in getting to walk on the ground. They all wanted to descend the tether and see Mount Sahara and the tether's foundation. They wanted to explore a Paradise Tower and stroll through the fauna and flora recovery stations dotted around the southern hemisphere. They all wanted to stand unprotected under a naked sky, something none of them had done before. And now Dalys was chosen to descend alone.

  “I guess that's the benefit of being top dog. Sorry guys, if I remember I'll store a couple of memory bricks for you and you can immerse yourself in them when I get back and download them to the datacore.”

  “Don’t like your chances Skipper, the Protocol would never allow something to be recorded down there. Did you see the disclaimer at the end, in the fine print? Lots and lots of security.”