Escape to Neso by W.S. Long

Author:W.S. Long [Long, W.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

When Sartre finished talking about how they wound up on Neso, Alex edged closer to the cot. It squeaked. Owen had fallen asleep, curled up on the sleeping bag. He wasn’t sure if Madsen was awake but when slight snoring came from Madsen, Sartre stretched his legs out. Alex stood from where he had been cross-legged and sat on the cot.

“How old are your sons now?”

“In Terran years, two hundred eighty. But they barely look twenty-eight.”

“How old were you when they were born?”

“Very young. I was around twenty. I was a young father. Jón probably was the better father. He was there all the time with them. He was older. He always wanted to have children.” Sartre smiled a little. “You remind me of my youngest.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes. He’s a beautiful boy, I should say, man. And Owen reminds me of my oldest son, Gunnar. He’s very protective of you.”

“He’s been like that since I can remember. And especially when we lost our parents.”

The heating lamp cycled down. They both sat in silence in the relative dark dampness for a moment before Alex spoke. “Is Neso cold like this place?”

Sartre shook his head. “No, over the years we made changes to the moon. We made surface openings to capture light. We installed a large set of mirrors on the surface to capture the smallest solar rays, reflection from Neptune as small as it is, and to maximize them all, and reflect it back to where we carved out our shelters. It took a combination of non-enh and enh scientists, engineers, and regular people to tunnel certain areas. We even have a heated waterfall that provides a secondary source of power. We’ve almost made Neso too nice. Now very few people are even thinking of leaving it. Only the young ones leave, but they almost always come back.”

“That sounds nice. I think this place is too cold,” Alex said.

“Well, it’s too late to go to the Quonset they set aside for you. And it sounds like you don’t want to be there anyway.”

“No, I want to stay with you and Madsen. We both do.” Alex yawned and then nodded. “Yes,” he said, his voice drawn out through a second yawn.

“Okay, why don’t you take this cot? I’ll put Owen up here with you.”

“I think we’re okay on the sleeping bags.”

“The floor is cold. Take the cot.” Sartre stood and took a couple of steps towards where Owen slept. He slid off Owen’s boots, and pushed them off to the side, and then gently carried Owen. Owen mumbled in his sleep. Sartre gently laid Owen on one side of the cot. Owen tucked in a ball once he was set down. His socks were riddled with holes.

Sartre cocked his head toward Alex who walked over to the side. “Off with your shoes, too.”

Alex complied and then slid under the covers. Sartre tucked Alex and Owen in so that the cover wouldn’t easily move with their movements.

“Good night,” Alex said as he yawned again.

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