The Matriarch Manifesto

by Devin Hanson

  “To answer your question,” Millicent said dreamily, “I wouldn’t mind saving up and buying a gyrocopter of my own. I’ve always wanted the freedom to fly among the clouds.”

  “Now I know you’re crazy,” Polder grinned. “Nobody in their right mind wants that. They’re acid, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “I know what they are,” Millicent said irritably. “And it’s perfectly safe to fly through them, so long as it’s not actively precipitating. The concentration isn’t high enough to damage a gyrocopter.”

  “I’ve got much more reasonable dreams,” Laud said. “I’ve almost got enough to afford an education license. My kid isn’t going to grow up with the shit basic education. He’s going to college, my friends, studying under a matriarch. That’s where it’s at. I’ll retire in twenty years with my boy pulling in ten times what his daddy makes.”

  “That’s a dream, all right” Millicent smiled. “We all know you’d go nuts without the adrenaline of going outside.”

  “How old is your son?” Jackson asked. Somehow, he guessed Laud didn’t have a woman in the communal maternity wards.

  “He’s turning four in a month,” Laud said proudly. “He has his mom’s nose.”

  “Good thing, too,” Polder grinned. “I wouldn’t wish your beak on anyone.”

  “What about you, Chief?” Jackson turned to her next. “Are you going to raise some children of your own?”

  Polder snorted and Millicent smiled patiently. “I’m married, but my wife and I decided we wouldn’t adopt. Besides, watching over you lot is like running herd on a bunch of toddlers anyway. My mothering instinct is all worn out.”

  “Oh.” Jackson hesitated. He hadn’t expected that. “What does your hu– ah, wife do?”

  “She’s a geneticist,” Polder supplied, “mostly runs recombinant gene therapy on plants, sort of like accelerated evolution to get them to adapt to our growing conditions faster.”

  Millicent nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Huh.” Jackson sipped at the last of his wine from dinner. He didn’t understand what Polder had said, beyond the bit about speeding up evolution. He didn’t even know such a thing was possible, let alone that someone made a living doing it. It made sense, though. There were probably loads of plants on Earth that would have to be mutated to fit life on Venus. “That sounds complicated.”

  “It is,” Millicent grinned. “Polder talks like he knows, but he’s bullshitting. He got that line from me, and I barely know what it means.”

  Laud glanced at his tablet and pushed back from the table with a sigh. “If we’re going to catch a two AM dirigible, we should get to bed. Flight leaves in seven hours.”

  Millicent groaned, but stood up as well. “I trust you’ll find a way to celebrate without us, Polder?”

  The senior wrench saluted with his cigar. “Leave it to me. Doc ordered bed rest. I may not do a whole lot of resting, but I’ll be in bed for certain.” He winked and grinned. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “Right. I’ll need you fit when we return. We’ll have job orders backed up, what with the storm damage to Nueva Angela, so don’t get too wasted.”

  Jackson joined the other two as they started making their way out of the restaurant. His sleeping watch started at midnight and ran until eight AM. There wouldn’t be a hammock available to him until then.

  They exited the restaurant after Millicent paid the tab and walked over to the lift. Jackson hung back, looking down at the energetic club in the lower area.

  “I might just stay here,” he called over the thumping music.

  “You really should sleep,” Laud shouted back. “You won’t get much rest on the dirigible.”

  “He’s in the barracks still,” Millicent shook her head, realizing the predicament Jackson was in. “Why don’t you come with me? I’ll set you up on the couch, and when we get back, I’ll help you find an apartment of your own. You’re an extra now, and no extra under my command sleeps in the barracks.”

  Jackson mumbled his thanks and stepped into the lift. The doors shut, sealing off the pounding beat. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the private apartments,” he commented. “My mother raised me in the communal maternity wards.”

  Laud sucked at a piece of fish stuck in his molar and grinned sympathetically. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. The wards are shit.”

  Jackson rather doubted that. His memories of the maternity wards were of light and open space, running down wide hallways and having other kids to play with. School had been carefree and easy. His mother hadn’t had the credits to pay for an education license, so all he had access to were the core classes that taught him what he needed to know to be a citizen in a habitat. Life before the barracks had been good. It was hard to imagine something better.

  The lift stopped and Millicent gestured for Jackson to follow her. “This is my level. Laud is several decks higher up.”

  “See you at the dock, Chief,” Laud waved and the doors slid closed.

  “Come on, not much further.”

  Jackson fell in beside Millicent. “I’m a little surprised you’re taking me in,” he admitted. “You hardly know me.”

  Millicent shrugged. “I saw your record. You have no criminal history, not even any misdemeanors on file. I hardly think you’d rob us. At most, you’d get a few weeks worth of living credits, and then what? You’d be tried and stuck working in sewage management or something for the next couple years. You’d lose any chance of being an extra and making enough money to improve your life. You’re too smart for that. I’ve seen your test scores.”

  “I’m not going to rob you because of the possible punishment,” Jackson frowned. “Why would I do something like that?”

  The chief’s sideways look widened into a smile. “Of course, you could just be a decent human being. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Most people are good citizens only when it suits them.”

  Jackson thought of the people he had been forced to share sleeping quarters with and the people he had found himself in jobs with over the last couple years. He couldn’t fault her estimation. “Sorry. You’re right, of course. I wouldn’t trust a random person with my belongings either.”

  “You’re not a random person any more, Jackson. You’re one of my crew now.” Her smile tightened into a feral barring of teeth. “And I know exactly who you are.”

  Millicent laughed it off before Jackson could protest and stopped at a door. “This is me. I told Sari we would be out late, so she’s not expecting us. Hang tight while I explain things.”

  The chief ducked inside, leaving Jackson out in the hallway. The usual traffic of people coming and going was significantly lessened here and the narrow hallway was almost deserted. He felt out of place. The walls were cleaner than he was used to, the paint a light cream color that softened the glare of the recessed lighting.

  Before he had the chance to grow self-conscious, the door opened up again and Millicent beckoned. “Come in! Sari wants to meet you.”

  Jackson followed nervously. Millicent’s apartment was sectioned off into two areas; the first, a larger, open room with a pair of couches arranged around an entertainment console on one side and a small food service on the other. A half wall split the space. Partially visible on the other side, a Murphy bed was folded up against the wall, with a doorway leading to a bathroom.

  It wasn’t a huge space, maybe five meters by ten meters in total, but it was clean and the furnishings looked comfortable. There was none of the scratched graffito that marred every inch of plastic in the barracks. Potted plants hung about the rooms, exotic vines and dwarf trees that Jackson had never seen before.

  Sari was shorter than Millicent, and slender where the chief had a generous figure. Her black hair was kept short in a bob cut and she wore rimmed glasses. She smiled when she saw Jackson, and her teeth were white against the olive of her skin.

  “So, you’re the one who saved Polder?” Sari stepped forward and shook Jackson’s hand. “
I’m glad you were there to help. Millie takes it hard when she loses crew.”

  Jackson cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you, Sari.”

  Sari smiled at Millicent. “I like him. He looks younger than you described.”

  “I told Sari why you’re here,” Millicent said. “She is okay with you sleeping on the couch.”

  “Do you lose people often?” Jackson asked nervously. “Outside, I mean.”

  Sari raised an eyebrow at Millicent. “I’ll get a blanket for Jackson.”

  Millicent sighed and gestured for Jackson to take a seat on the couch. “I’ll be honest with you, Jackson. Anyone who tells you being an extra is safe is lying. Risk is part of the job description, but it can be managed. If you keep your head about you, you can have a long career in it. I’ve been an extra for fifteen years, ten of them as a crew chief.”

  “So, what happened to Tristan was uncommon?”

  She grimaced. “Tristan was an idiot. He moved from crew to crew because nobody would have him on permanently. He was sloppy with his safety, lazy, and barely competent with his tasks. I wouldn’t have had him on at all, but he begged me for some work and there was enough menial labor on today’s job that I needed an extra hand.

  “With people like that, it’s only a matter of time before they make a mistake they can’t walk away from. Venus can be a cranky bitch when the mood is on her. If you disrespect her, it catches up with you eventually.

  “My only regret is that Polder was injured. He’ll have to get a prosthetic and there will be downtime in his production while he learns to get along with it. You’ll pick up a lot of his work in the meantime. It’ll be like an apprenticeship.”

  Sari returned and handed a folded blanket to Jackson. “Here you go. Don’t let Millie scare you off. Working outside is a good way to make a living. I wouldn’t have married her if I thought she was in any real danger.”

  “You lie,” Millicent swept Sari up in an embrace. “You get turned on when I tell you stories about almost dying out there.”

  “Mmm. Maybe.”

  Jackson turned away, blushing, and busied himself with laying the blanket out on the couch. He was a little worried that it would be uncomfortable, but to his surprise, the cushions were soft.

  “I’ll let you two get some sleep,” Sari said. “I’ll be up reading in case you need anything, Jackson.”

  “Um. Thank you.”

  “I’ll wake you when it’s time to get ready,” Millicent promised. “Come on, Sari, leave the kid alone. I have stories to tell you.”

  Jackson kicked off his slippers and lay down on the couch. He didn’t strip down to his briefs as was his usual habit, self-conscious and overly aware of the two women moving around in the next room. For a while, the strange room and the unfamiliar bedding kept him awake. Then the tensions of the day caught up with him and he fell into a restless slumber.

  CHAPTER

  SIX

  There is no law about it, but the ainlif sons of matriarchs have developed a tradition where they choose a new name when they receive their first Rebuild treatment. The first son chooses and name that starts with the letter A, and every subsequent ainlif picks a name with the next available letter. Young sons of matriarchs are always named starting with letters from L to Z, so simply by knowing the name of a matriarch’s son, you know whether he is ainlif or not.

  Early on in the history of the matriarchs, an attempt was made to keep the letters matching the age seniority of the ainlif. In the case of a death, the younger ainlif would choose new names to match their new placement in the hierarchy. This was found to be confusing and the practice was dropped among most families. Instead, the next ainlif to receive his treatment chose a name to fit the letter of the deceased.

  For female children, they used the surname of their mother, with no restrictions on the given name. Should the young matriarchs-to-be fail to pass the Challenge, the surname was stripped from them and they had to choose one of their own or go without.

  Leila Everard checked the weather report again, refreshing it impatiently every time the satellite feed updated. Anxiously, she scanned the image, following the lines indicated the direction and strength of the wind. Around the habitats, the lines were denser and darker, indicating detailed meteorological readings. In the gaps between habitats, the lines were vague, pinpoints of data gathered by floating aerostats and summarized by the satellites high above.

  There was a storm building, still a week or so away from coalescing, but the swirling pattern was already becoming visible. It looked like a big one, with hurricane-force winds and acid squalls stretching over thousands of square kilometers.

  The biggest danger from the storms was the heat. The habitats floated in a band of atmosphere that was a comfortable temperature, but the updraft from the storms could raise the ambient temperature up to a hundred degrees Celsius, enough to melt the aerogel core of the habitats.

  New Galway was on the periphery of the developing system. The lines showing wind currents were pushing away from Nova Aeria, indicating they would be flying into a headwind the whole trip in. Fortunately, Nova Aeria wasn’t far away, and even with the headwind, it wouldn’t take them more than an hour to travel there.

  There was plenty of time to take the Challenge and return to New Galway before the storm picked up enough force to be dangerous.

  Always assuming her mother would ever show up.

  Leila put her tablet down and peered down the hallway, searching the gently curving passage for a sign of her mother’s approach.

  “Relax, Leila,” Chase admonished her. “Mother is coming. There is still plenty of time.”

  Leila rolled her eyes at her brother. He was already immortal, there was no rush for him. “You say that like she’s never changed her mind before.”

  “This is your Challenge day,” Chase shrugged. “She wouldn’t want you to miss it.”

  She groaned and paced. The usual towering cumulonimbus clouds outside the windows were slowly being torn into altostratus as the winds picked up and disturbed their shapes. Would her mother call it all off? The Challenge was supposed to take place on April twenty-second, but that was just tradition. There was no reason they couldn’t wait a few weeks and reschedule the Challenge for after the storm had passed, right?

  Movement around the curve of the hallway caught Leila’s eye and she saw Evan striding toward her. She had half a heartbeat of bitter disappointment; Evan had been sent ahead to tell them the trip had been canceled, and then she saw her mother following behind.

  “Told you,” Chase said smugly. “Come on, let’s get you geared up so we can cycle the airlock.”

  Leila grinned at Cynthia as she hurriedly strapped the belt pack on. “I was afraid you weren’t going to come, mother. I was about to go with just Chase and I.”

  Cynthia smiled patiently. “Of course I was coming. I wouldn’t miss it.”

  The matriarch finished buckling on her rebreather and checked the tank levels before putting out a hand and catching Leila by the shoulder.

  “Leila, sweetheart. Are you sure you’re ready? There will be no turning back once you enter the Challenge. For better or worse, your fate will be sealed.”

  Leila shrugged. “Why, you don’t think I’ll make it?”

  “Nobody but Annette knows the purpose behind the Questions, and what answers are correct. I can’t tell you what they are because of my oaths, and I can’t prepare you for them because I truly don’t know.”

  Looking up into her mother’s eyes, Leila saw a shadow pass over them. Her mother wasn’t afraid of anything, but there was certainly an old fear haunting her now. “I know all this, mother. But the only way I will find out is if I enter the Challenge.”

  Cynthia nodded and dropped her hand. “I know you do. And I know you know there are no exceptions and the results are final. Even my own sister, Susan, was left behind on Earth. There is no room among immortals for women who cannot pass the Challenge. I guess I’m just
afraid.” Cynthia gave a little laugh and shook herself. “You’re my first daughter, after all.”

  “I’ll be fine, mother. But not if we don’t get there on time.” Leila tilted her head pointedly toward the open airlock.

  Leila led the way into the airlock and Chase cycled the chamber. The air from the gantry flooded in, hot and dry against Leila’s exposed skin. The narrow catwalk leading to the dirigible flexed and creaked as wind buffeted the gantry.

  “Are these winds safe?” Cynthia asked.

  “Well within tolerances,” Evan reassured her. “The dirigible is like an enormous sail on the end of the gantry, that’s why we’re getting so much movement. Once we’re onboard, we won’t even feel the wind.”

  “What about returning? I saw the weather report. New Galway will be on the fringes of the storm unless someone pilots her free.”

  “Baldwin is going to do just that, Mother,” Chase said. “We’ll attend the Challenge then fly right back. We shouldn’t have any problem docking by then.”

  “And if the it suddenly grows stronger? Storms have been predicted incorrectly before.”

  “Then we’ll weather it at Nova Aeria. It will be entirely safe,” Evan said. “I wouldn’t risk your life, even for Leila’s challenge.”

  Cynthia nodded. “Fine. Let’s get this over with, then.”

  New Galway had two dirigibles. The first, and larger of the two, was for carrying their produce to other habitats. It had a displacement of two tons and was the largest dirigible in active use. The other was compact, with a passenger carrying capacity of only five hundred kilos.

  The passenger cabin on the smaller dirigible was cramped, with only room for two rows of seats separated by an aisle. The men had to duck their heads once they got inside. Alec was already in the forward cockpit, the nebula of lights and readouts giving his face a ghostly cast.