Warp Thrive

by Ginger Booth

  “How do you feel about relocating to WPS-816, Trudy?” he asked.

  She peered into the satellite image. “There’s nothing there but regolith, Dr. Rasmussen.”

  He smiled. “I’m sure your rotation will be over before we get everything on site.”

  “But I hope to join your lab, sir. It’s my dream to –”

  “No suck-ups, Trudy,” he reminded her. “My name is Eli, not sir. Your new assignment is to help determine the minimum necessary luggage at this new location to be effective. More effective than here. That shouldn’t take much.”

  “You mean, live out on the regolith?”

  “That is what we’re terraforming, after all. Not this damned corridor.”

  “But there aren’t any bathrooms!”

  “Excellent insight. Please use the whiteboard. Instead of screeching in my ear.” Eli tamped a grin as the kid got her analytical brain into gear and started jotting a high-level task list.

  Not bad, he judged. Trudy might be a keeper.

  44

  Sass followed Clay through the throng clogging the downtown plaza of Mahina Actual, well air-conditioned in the heat of Dusk afternoon, a few hours before sunset. Atlas Pratt offered to sign them into the city. This freed a couple tickets for Josiah and Hunter Burke to attend.

  Mahina University had never invited settlers to their graduation ceremony before. Yet another in a long litany of firsts which Sass trusted would be commonplace within the decade.

  She spotted her crew and joined them, bending down to shake a very somber Nico’s hand. He’d turn three soon. She got Copeland home in time for that birthday.

  And for this. Ben Acosta would accept his bachelor’s degree today. The seniors began to file in solemnly, wearing their cheap robes and mortarboards. Dr. Acosta, his dad, plucked Nico up in excitement. “See? There’s daddy Ben!”

  Nico scowled. Sass didn’t blame him. Spotting anyone in this crowd was tough.

  “Where’s your other daddy, Nico?” Sass looked to the dentist for an answer.

  He shrugged, looking supremely unimpressed with his son-in-law-to-be. Missing Ben’s graduation was inexcusable. The entire graduating class postponed the ceremony for two months so that their most famous classmate could participate.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Cope murmured, edging through the crowd. “Surprise!”

  Abel and Jules grinned at his outfit, in on the secret. Copeland wore cap and gown as well, though of the same dark green as the faculty, instead of the Mahina mushroom drab of the undergrads.

  “See, Nico, I’ve got a tassel, too!” The engineer dangled his gold cord for the toddler’s amusement. “I’d take him from you, Nathan. But I’m not sure when I get called up. Wave to Ben, Nico!”

  Ben spotted them, then ran into the settler girl just ahead of him in line. He straightened that out, with laughing apologies. Then Ben turned back to mime throttling his partner. Cope grinned.

  “Master’s degree?” Sass asked. “Really? And Ben didn’t know?”

  “Certified professional engineer,” Copeland shared shyly. “It’s a faculty role. Part of the deal.”

  “Practically a PhD,” Eli clarified, and claimed his hand to shake. “Wow! Impressed as hell.”

  “When you took over Thrive the other day,” Clay guessed, “that was this?”

  The practical engineering faculty lived the word ‘practical.’ For an open book exam, they tested Copeland in situ in his familiar workplace. Since his own wasn’t up and running yet, he spent 4 hours working problems from his seat at Thrive’s engineering console. After lunch, the group reconvened in the galley for a grueling oral examination, which he passed with flying colors.

  Sass and Clay hosted the delighted faculty judges. Sass had her fingers crossed that Darren Markley, Cope’s advisor, might take the bait. While Cope sweat his book exam, Markley toured all the new challenging bits of Thrive his protege had shared with him by video over the past 18 months. Markley looked green with envy, and hinted that his wife, a nurse practitioner, would love a tour as well. He also confided that they were both eager for new challenges, their kids grown and established in their careers. Sass invited them both for dinner on Glow.

  An irritated usher found Cope and drew him away. He wasn’t allowed to watch Ben graduate from the audience after all.

  “Faculty?” Sass asked Eli.

  “Comes with every advanced degree,” Eli assured her. “You master it, you teach it. He’s already posted internships at the Thrive Company. Probably has applications from half the graduating class.”

  “Half the engineers in MA!” Abel confirmed. “Markley’s on our board. We don’t even have a place for them to sit yet. I don’t know how we’ll choose.”

  Sass resolved to steal Markley, at least, from Abel. She tried not to begrudge him the name Thrive for his company. He was right. They’d built the brand to mean something in the Aloha system. Anywhere else, it was just a peculiar name for a ship. Though Sass expected to find that failure to thrive syndrome was not Aloha-specific.

  The four settler undergrads were held for last, and called up together to the stage. The university president seized the opportunity to praise the new integration of urb and settler at the University, and claimed he expected many more.

  “As though there are any more,” Sass grumbled to Josiah and Hunter Burke.

  Hunter surprised her. “Actually there were 10 in this year’s freshman class, 20 for next year?” Atlas Pratt confirmed this. “You’re out of date, Sass.”

  And indeed, she’d had that feeling ever since touchdown. She had expected changes. She hadn’t expected how fast and how profound the changes had taken root. Urbs left MA in droves – the anti-radiation meds Thrive brought back from Sagamore were that good. With Saggy Town established, anything Hell’s Bells could produce was easy to buy, including star drives. Every town had at least one now for power. Schuyler had a dozen.

  But most striking was the change in settler health and outlook. They stood tall, yes, but on strong bones, with clear minds and every expectation that if the cancers came, they were curable. Finding and fixing the protein deficiency worked miracles.

  Dr. Yang’s nanites would perform even more. Abel licensed a firm to spin up the treatments before Thrive even made turnover back from Denali. Before long, settlers wouldn’t just be as healthy as urbs used to be. They’d be as healthy as Sass and Clay. Her crew already was, including the gifted young men graduating today.

  Sass shifted among the gang to chat with Kassidy. The onetime starlet was impossibly busy these days, juggling media appearances while trying to compensate for her father’s lack of social graces. She hoped to find time to restart her popular daredevil show. But her priority was to cocoon the elder Yang so he could further his new firm instead of get kicked out. She’d already hired 10 doctors for his buffer squad, and he’d fired half of them. At this rate, scaling up could prove a challenge.

  “But it’s a communication challenge, Kassidy,” Sass pointed out. “I have every confidence in you.”

  “Me? Well, you’re right!” The younger woman pealed with laughter. “Yang and Yang!”

  “Do you keep in touch with Aurora?” Sass asked.

  “We’re room-mates! Yeah, MA gave the Denalis an apartment block in the city, and the settlers gave them a house near Saggy Town. Except Teke. He’s staying with the Greer clan. I tried to live with Dad, but.” Kassidy shook her head in laughing dismay.

  Ben rejoined them after his class tossed hats, for hugs all around. He’d expected Cope to watch him with Nico. It turned out the other way around.

  Darren Markley gave a short speech on behalf of the three faculty convened to award their single degree candidate. These were the same three who’d grilled Cope mercilessly the other day on Thrive.

  “This is not a new credential. Every engineer on this dais earned it. But they earned a master’s degree first. You might think John Copeland is the first settler we have sponsored in this pr
ogram. You’d be wrong. Our first settler was Amanda Van Beck, a lead engineer on the atmosphere spires. That was before my time. We’ve had three others since then. Cope, know that every settler we have conferred the CPE upon has made an immeasurable contribution to the survivability and quality of life on Mahina. We confidently expect you to do the same. Pay it forward.”

  Nico was satisfied with the silly hats and tassels from his dads. Granddaddy Acosta hung the dangly cords from his ears.

  “They’re really gone?” Two years later, Kassidy Yang was the last to arrive at the Thrive mansion, as they came to call it.

  Abel nodded. “We received Sass’s final video a few hours ago. Your dad?”

  Kassidy rolled her eyes. “I didn’t ask him.”

  She strode in to share a hug with Jules and admire her toddlers. Since everyone was waiting on her, she left it with a wave for the rest of her greetings. Aside from her dad, everyone who’d shared the voyage home from Denali was here. Well, everyone who hadn’t left with Sass, anyway.

  Abel turned on the main display. “Get out your hankies,” he warned.

  Sass and Clay appeared on the screen, beaming. “First, thank you! Those good-bye videos you sent were wonderful. Kassidy, it was very kind of you to record the Markley’s kids. What you’ve done with Yang&Yang nanites in such a short time is amazing. Abel – impressed as hell with the new Thrive Company.”

  She said a few words to everyone, responding to their videos, and praising their progress on their latest shiny goals.

  Kassidy’s eyes brimmed over. She laid her head on Eli’s knee. His tears flowed, too, and he squeezed her hand.

  “So, it’s time,” Sass said on the screen. “In an hour we engage the warp lens. And in your universe, we will cease to exist for eight years.”

  “Then we reappear at Sanctuary,” Clay continued. “Another year and a half out from the system.”

  “We still haven’t decided,” Sass confessed, “whether we turn around and come back after Sanctuary, or continue on. It depends on what we find there. I’m awfully curious what became of Earth. But that’s probably our last priority. Maybe we’ll run into someone else who knows.”

  “Either way, we hope to see all of you again,” Clay offered. “Someday.”

  “And even if we don’t,” Sass concluded, “know that we’re thinking of you, and cheering for you. And when we come back, we expect to find Mahina thriving! We love you. Good bye.”

  “That’s it then,” Abel said huskily. He left Sass and Clay’s smiling faces on the screen.

  The assembled Denalis and Mahinans, settler and urb, relaxed into a reunion party rich in memories, and caught up on each other’s dreams and visions.

  Part II

  Ringship Prosper

  Map

  Prosper floorplan.

  45

  Centuries later, it’s difficult to unravel how the modest moon of Mahina rose to prominence. – Quasar Shibuya, The Early Diaspora.

  The most brilliant physicist alive opened his apartment door to a surprise knock. Two overly tall, overly muscled guys in business suits shoved their way in, pushing him backward. One quietly pulled the door closed.

  “Teke of Denali? The physicist?” the other inquired.

  Eyes alight and sense of humor engaged, Teke combed a coy hand over his shapely and shiny bald pate. Aside from long black eyelashes, Denali were completely hairless. There were exactly four such men in near-Mahina space. He was the one who lived at this address. “How stupid are you?” he inquired.

  Zan – a Denali of the hunter caste – snorted amusement from the living room. Young Teke had sounded a little down when he called. Something about his company being in financial trouble, a concept Zan didn’t fully grasp. But he came around for drinks to cheer him up.

  Teke noted the gun bulges in the new visitors’ jackets and waistbands, and suggested, “Zan, I think they’re more your type.”

  Zan’s answering grin was euphoric. “Really? How fun!”

  The rear guest shuffled nervously. His eyes flicked briefly to the forward one. Teke didn’t bother to point this out to his compatriot. Zan’s bald head already hung around the corner to survey his new prey. The way he bared his teeth increased the back one’s nervous quotient.

  “The new owners of Thrive Spaceways sent us,” Goon 1 declared. “Ring Ventures. Your new bosses.”

  Teke tilted his head. The answer to his question appeared to be very stupid. “There was something about a shareholder meeting tomorrow. Nothing to do with me.”

  “You are the most valuable mind at Spaceways,” the goon claimed, drawing himself to his full height, 210 cm, in an attempt to be more intimidating. Denali tended toward short and stocky, being native to 1.1 g gravity compared to Mahina’s paltry 1/6th g. They were also strong as an ox compared to a typical stretch-skeleton Mahinan. “You’ll come with us. We’re to make sure you transfer to the company along with title.”

  Teke chuckled. “Slavery! I think you misconstrue the nature of my employment.”

  “But do continue,” Zan urged. “We’d love to hear more.”

  “You are recording, yes?” Teke inquired.

  “Oh, yes!” Zan assured him, patting his pocket comm.

  “Give me that!” Goon 1 reached for the comm, in close proximity to Zan’s crotch.

  Zan reached out with a quick single chop, and fractured the four long bones in the man’s hand. “So he entered the home, made vague threats, tried to molest me…” He raised his voice somewhat over the visitor’s screams. Many nerves complained when those bones shattered.

  Teke leaned his shoulders against the wall in a coquettish pose, one bare foot flat against the painted drywall and his hips curved outward. “Oh, we can evolve excuses later. So tell me more about why I should let you take me. Where?”

  “They said one physicist!” Goon 2 protested.

  “Yes,” Teke assured him, raising an index finger. “One.” From his sexy lounge, he pushed off, missed Goon 1’s head by a hair, and smashed the bridge of Goon 2’s nose with the ball of his foot. On the backswing, he kicked Goon 1 in the ass, causing him to lurch forward from his crouch over the ruined hand. “Oh, my. The carpet. Please stop bleeding on it.”

  “Honking lunatics!” Goon 2 shouted. He fumbled to open the door.

  Faster than the goon thought humanly possible, Zan leapt over his companion, grabbed Goon 2 by the suit jacket, and planted his bleeding face somewhat into the wall. Then suddenly his gun was out of his waistband and cracked on the back of his skull. And that was all Goon 2 knew.

  “Easily distracted, are you?” Teke crooned to Goon 1, trapped between himself and his warrior friend. “I’ll ask again. Who sent you? And where did you plan to take me?”

  The man licked his lips. His eyes darted for escape, but found none. Zan clarified his position by resting the gun on his temple.

  “Fine! I’ll tell you everything!”

  And he did. And when he finished, Teke mused, “What a peculiar recruiting technique.”

  Zan opined, “I think this is what they call ‘strong-arm tactics.’ But their arms snap like kindling. They hoped to bully you into cooperation.”

  Teke’s expression crumpled in aesthetic anguish. “That’s so dumb.”

  “They don’t breed for IQ here.” Zan toed their captive’s shin idly. “Police? And before or after he’s dead?”

  The guy lurched for the door. Zan dropped him with a single chop to his neck, then paused to check his pulse. “Still alive. Barely.”

  “Oh, well. Sorry about this.”

  “No, I’m glad I came. Mahina is so dull.”

  “Me, too,” Teke agreed. “You’re the one with diplomatic immunity.” The pair traded a wry smile.

  Zan came here on the Thrive to represent the hunter caste of their world. Then-teenager Teke was merely a stowaway. He had to behave and earn a living, even pay to attend college. Or rather, his mentor Copeland paid for him to get what he could out of Mahina U
niversity, that not being much. Even the urbs here were barely gene crafted. The school focused on medicine and terraforming. In physics, Teke outstripped its faculty long before he came to this dusty moon. Settlers like these goons, brains addled by toxic air, poor nutrition and worse education, seemed barely human.

  “I should call the boss before the police,” Teke mused. Though he hated to cause him more stress at a trying time.

  Copeland, president of Thrive Spaceways, was glad he did. Sort of.

  Ben Acosta hit the Saggytown bazaar with a single ambition – to snag himself an Aloha three-world ramen. He’d nursed a craving for weeks for the quirky dish. Busy traveling the rings of the gas giant Pono, the spaceship captain couldn’t satisfy the call.

  Now, the Dusk sunlight slanted lemony through a haze of dust. The refugees of Saggytown didn’t go for refinements like sidewalks and gravel. They didn’t even level the regolith, Mahina’s native rocks and moondust. He smirked at a couple houses angled from the street to bypass a jagged chunk of asteroid. Then he turned the corner from the radial avenue into the bazaar proper.

  A brilliantly colored patchwork of canvas awnings spread before his adoring eyes. Sellers hawked their wares from tables, carpets on the ground, or stacks of shipping crates. The aroma of weird food wafted in the air, dominated by the omnipresent Schuyler city deep fryers. The locals loved to boil things in oil. Immigrant Saggies mingled freely with native Mahinans from all walks of life. He grinned as he spotted a few teens in the latest fashion trend, decked out as Denali hunters in splotchy-patterned skin-suits and loincloths. They loitered by the ramen stand – perfect!

  He strode to lean on the ramen counter, and placed his order to the wizened Sagamore grandmother below. Her English was unintelligible, so Ben switched to her native French-based creole to make his wishes clear. He delighted when she gaped, then shot him hex signs with her crabbed hands. The tiny paddies hated it when outsiders understood them, maybe because they spent their entire lives muttering superstitious gloom and doom.