Analog Science Fiction and Fact 2022 07-08 by Penny Publications

Author:Penny Publications [Publications, Penny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penny Publications
Published: 2022-06-30T22:00:00+00:00

“As of 9:30 A.M. this morning, all attempts to reestablish communications with the rest of the flotilla remain unsuccessful,” Panilaaq’s measured voice announced over the feed.

At least, that was what Simone was pretty sure she had said. Literally, the words had sounded like “From 9:30 in the morning discussions (negative) airboats (negative, continuing).” Or something like that.

She was picking things out, word by word, as much as she could. She tried to at least be amused by the always-hilarious literal translations that resulted—you never knew how much of what we said was an expression until you tried to pinpoint whether it was correct to say “Yes, please,” or “Yes, by your favor,” or “Yes, with gratitude” or, sometimes, “No, fuck off.”

But it was slow, and hard, and usually infuriating.

Panilaaq’s steady voice continued her announcements across the public intercom, and Simone didn’t need a translator to read the tension that hung heavily on the crew’s shoulders. Outside comms had been cut off for days, but it wasn’t just that. Since the faulty water spigots in the desert dome, there had been other, out-of-the-ordinary problems, one after the other: first it was the low temperature cooling valves. Then the standard core interface overheated, which in turn ruined half the lab’s microgravity experiments. This made it impossible to complete the critical repairs needed for the nitrogen gas propellers in the manned maneuvering vehicles, which worked fine on board the station but gummed up as soon as they hit zero g.

By now, humans had been living among the stars for nearly two hundred years. They were no strangers to problems—so they fixed them, one by one. As head adjudicator, Panilaaq’s strategy to keep people calm was more information, rather than less.

But it was rattling nonetheless.

Up here, people never forgot that one small slip-up could be fatal. You didn’t learn that lesson as well living on Earth. Life was kinder, more forgiving there, in a lot of ways.

Simone was waiting in the large oval common room, where several dozen other families congregated, each listening anxiously in their own way. The Cupola Room was filled with small couches clustered around repurposed cargo crates serving as tables, intentionally designed to give small groups the feeling of privacy in a shared space. People of all ages gathered here—grandfathers in patchworked jackets tossed soft balls to their grandchildren. Stressed out parents slurped spiked tea, while teenagers of all genders giggled to their friends while pretending not to notice so-andso.

Above them all, like a turtle’s back, was the Cupola—a hundred-meter long clear geometric dome, segmented into ten even sections around the edges, and three hexagonal sections forming the ceiling. And beyond that— space.

Tucked into her corner, Simone craned her neck back and soaked in the razzle-dazzle of the stars, as numerous as glittering grains of sand scattered in the indigo sky. Then she closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose. There were well-used communal kitchens at either end of the Cupola room, and tonight it smelled of spicy jollof rice.

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