Another garbage night for Sky. She was having auditory hallucinations, hot guts and coffee shits. Perfect condition for mentally and physically demanding work. “Rack time” and all the short hand that OSR officers had for rest, recovery, snoozing, nappy time, waking up fresh… it was very sweet, and it didn’t apply to moms.
Sky Adashan was a 40 year old mother of 2 children that never slept, a space weathered first responder in the OSR, and wife to Jack Adashan, the beleaguered mayor of Igaluk Habitat where they lived. For as many ways as they made an unusual couple, as spacers go they were quite common; everyone you met at a small habitat like Igaluk was doing something critical. Finding pairings with wildly different career demands was often the only way for romance to happen in space. You just made it work, and work you did.
She leaned her head against the sink to relieve the fire in her shoulders. Time on the toilet was time to herself. Moms muscled through, thought Sky. Moms dug deep, moms stared into the abyss and the abyss said “you know what I’m sorry, you were right.” Her phone slipped off the sink ledge and into a trash can full of baby poop wipes. She bashed her head instinctively reaching for it. “OW! Shit!” And with that, the baby was awake and crying.
Hastily wipe. Kick toys out of the way. Scoop up Owen and feed him. Make Jack put Owen back in his crib. Help Ben out of bed and try to keep him quiet. Brush his teeth. Apologize to Ben for yelling last night. Shove tits into sports bra. Zip up coveralls. Shove pills in pocket. Mutter “I love you” while zombie shuffling past Jack in the hallway. What she really meant was both “I forgive you” and “please forgive me”. Put out breakfast for the kids so Jack won’t screw it up. Write down new feeding schedule so Jack won’t screw it up. Crawl under couch to fetch toy, kiss Ben on his precious head.
“Okay Jack. Your airplane.”
“My airplane.” Jack always looked so damn sorry, it didn’t inspire confidence.
Out the door.
“Beep beep” went the chipper horn of her ride to the hub. She shoved herself in between Mbatha and Eulaers, two of the younger OSR. She regarded their dopey youth. Their well rested vibes were cranking up the gravity on a spiteful frown. She loved how uncomfortable these boys were around her.
“Oof! Good morning Adashan! You look tired, did you stay up all night partying?” asked Eulaers, finger fully up his own ass. The kind of question only a man-child can think to ask a mother. Sky straightened up, inhaled sharply, and shot him a quizzical look, daring him to bring up his goddamn cat. Eulaers would often, again with thumb way up his own ass, bring up his cat whenever the subject of Sky’s children came up.
The hub shuttle started up. “You know, Kaiju sometimes paws at the door at night and it can be so disruptive, I feel you!” There it is. Flashback to Ben having a night terror and sobbing inconsolably for an hour, unable to breath.
Shuttle to hub, hub elevator to axis, axis shuttle to outside shuttle bay, outside shuttle to OSR Igaluk Station. All while holding in a bad shit. Thank Christ for microgravity.
Neural implant gets switched on AFTER a brief jog on the treadmill and a shower. Rush of vector space, all the days shenanigans imposing themselves on Sky’s mind, layer after mind numbing layer. Rich idiots holding a regatta at L4. Suits 46 and 49 have vomit in them. Cabin crew of a depressurized Italian mining rig sent their children’s “thank you for rescuing daddy” cards. Every ship and spacesuit and tumbling rock and piece of hypersonic trash becomes an intuition, an itch, an idea at the back of Sky’s conscious mind. Today, like every day, space is an oppressive cloud of gnats.
OSR Igaluk is one of five stations that orbit the moon. It’s weirdly not an independent station, but the top line of a very long, skinny “T” shaped commercial spaceport. At the bottom of the T is a spinning donut, home to a thousand or so people that call this place home. It’s a small town with two main sources of cash - OSR officers and their needs (coffee, painkillers, daycare), and tax free real estate for every goofy start-up and crackpot business plan you can think of. Home sweet home.
Overlooking the dock yard is “The Onion” - a cupola with huge, 360 windows where the dispatchers and ops people float, orchestrating a big hairball of space activity. Sky checks in with Gus, her XO. Gus is a dad, and in a crew that mostly skews young, one of the older hands. She appreciates him. “I just started drugging my two monsters after a while.”
Thank Christ for Gus.
Everyone gathered in the briefing room. While missions got assigned, Sky began to zone out, thinking of Jack and the kids. Suddenly her neural interface got loud with very crisp new vector sensations.
“Adashan. Eulaers. Mbatha. Hyun. Tapia. I have you doing dip-and-go patterns in sloppy victor lima”.
“Sloppy Victor” was OSR speak for SLOPV, or Surface Level OPerations Vehicle. The contractor that built it and the OSR brass that ordered it all thought the name was super neato gee wiz, because THEY pronounced it “slope vee”. But precisely no one else did, and Sloppy V, Sloppy Vagina, Slappy Vigor, Sloopy Vlad, every undignified variation took hold before coming to a collective rest on “Sloppy Victor”. Big pumpkin shaped lander that can plop itself and a crew of six OSR, along with a trauma bay and equipment, anywhere on the lunar surface, and take off again headed for an OSR hospital. Ben, who was five, referred to it as a “pumpkin rocket” and that’s what Sky called it. “Mommy goes in the pumpkin rocket!”
Sloppy Victor Lima, Echo and Utah undocked and nudged themselves away from Igaluk. The sun was creeping over the edge of the moon, thruster plumes flashing rapidly in every direction as the 100 ton pumpkins rolled themselves over into departure orientations.
Inside, hooked in around the storm shelter tube in the middle of Lima’s crew hold was Sky, Eulaers, Mbatha and Tapia, fully suited up for spacewalk, except for their open visors. Sky glanced up to the cockpit and could see Hyun was starkly lit by the sun spilling in. She liked Hyun. Older lady, didn’t talk. Did her job. Hyun was gesturing at invisible stuff in her head, stretching parabolas between her fingers only she could see. She let the flying do all the talking, and her flying was reliable, precise, no frills. Most of that was the autopilot AI of course. Hyun didn’t really fly the pumpkin. She offered suggestions, gleaned from her intuitions watching traffic vector space. The pumpkin didn’t need her to fly, it needed her to prioritize flight paths according to the strange, very human rules that governed the swarm of gnats in the void. Hyun, when asked, once described it like “back seat driving”.
Burn. Feel it in your knees a bit, then shut off, back to zero g. There isn’t much to do during a “dip-and-go”. The vehicle slows down, falls towards some region of the moon, burns again pointed orbit normal, and begins a series of slow bounces as it orbits the moon, pulsing its engines to curve out of the ‘dip’. The bounces correspond to various known high traffic regions of lunar surface activity. Tourist routes, mining lanes, off road racing, gambling districts, remote astronomical observatories - the last one being an unusually high source of people who just ‘wander off’ in a space suit and get themselves in trouble. Astronomers are a weird bunch. It’s a time to check and re-check equipment, get acclimated to the data space of the day, run muscle-memory sims, try in vain to get a deep scratch of the foot through a space boot, and find out who among you is the most uncomfortable with silence. Eulaers obviously.
“I love to meditate. Big on meditation. It’s a great way to focus your mind. The benefits are enormous, you know? Especially if you have a neural implant in your line of work, meditation really helps keep the nois-”
“Hey great idea, I’m gonna meditate right now” interrupted Sky.
“Great! You know a really useful exercise is paying attention to the beginning of a color in your neural feed. I really like focusing on the pinks, for example. Just notice when a pink begins and ends. There’s an incredible book I’ve been reading…”
Sky closed her visor. She thought about Jake. She felt ache about snapping at him, it just hurts so much to have to explain herself, to be understood. Ben was a good, hard kid. ADHD, super creative, never sat still, and needed them so much. She often thought about leaving the OSR. About all the little projects she had. The volcano mural in Owen’s room. The puzzle box for Ben that was half finished. Arranging an actual face to face with Ben’s occupational therapist, not getting all the notes second hand from Jack. Jack was a good dad. And a good husband. And she still felt run ragged to her very bones. She pouted wistfully… She noticed Eulaers had stopped talking, had a kind of embarrassed face. Ugh, he doesn’t deserve this, he’s a good kid too. She flipped open the visor.
“I’m sorry Eulaers, I’m VERY tired, I didn’t mean…” Everyone perked up at once, as if they heard a twig snap. Somewhere in neural vector space, an SOS was coming in.
A 60 tonner crash landed in one of the polar cold regions. Automated SOS fired off just before the crash, then stopped transmitting. Plane change assistance requested. Cold field kit requested. Everyone performed a heater battery check. Suit checks:
Shears. Cable. Safety hooks. Top off Nitrogen bottles, check action on thrust handles. Fuck with the sun shades. BIFMO flares intact. Hibernator suit punch. Torch. Radio Buoy. Leak tape. Lots of slapping of LSS packs, clips engaging on LARMU (lunar maneuvering thrusters). Hyun updates the helmet SAARAs (helmet sit-rep huds).
Hyun braced against her cockpit hand holds. “Bottle hookup in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.”
The whole pumpkin shuddered giving everyone a couple inch sideways lurch as a “bottle” slammed into their air frame, and began rapidly clamping and docking, filling the cabin with terrible chop-shop power tool noises for a few seconds. “Bottle” is OSR speak for big autonomous robotic rockets, fuel tanks with engines used to assist in dramatic orbital maneuvers. OSR maintains a high density presence of these machines in a basket weave of orbits around the moon. Soon they were tumbling into an anti-radial orientation, thrusters popping off like firecrackers, and in a heartbeat the bottle lit its methalox torch. 30 seconds… engines off, butts relaxed, more chop shop noises, silence. Bye bottle.
“Touchdown in 5 minutes!” Landing engines light. Visors down. Pressurize suits. Cabin depressurizes. The airlock door opened to obliquely lit craters and mountains drifting by. Sky rapidly clenched and un-clenched her fists. Here we go.
Hyun brought Sloppy Victor Lima down for a low hover just above impingement threshold at the edge of a pitch black crater a kilometer across. Only a thin crescent of blazing sunlight at the rim revealed the shape of the bowl. A quick radar and lidar scan told the floodlights where to snap focus to, and soon the vehicle descended towards a brightening hot spot about halfway up the curved slope. As they neared the lander, they could see it was on its side, and had skidded down the slope about 40 meters, leaving a glittering trail of sharp debris. Everyone’s helmets and neural feeds got a higher and higher resolution picture of the situation as they approached. Hyun and the AI picked a landing spot with minimum impingement debris dangers based on the surface topology, and as they zeroed in, the pumpkin extended its pads and dig hooks for a slope landing. There was a familiar hiss in the cabin as an alumina spray made a temporary landing pad directly under the lander, then a dull crunch, and engines off. Bungies unhooked. Trauma stretchers deployed.
Everyone moved quickly. Cold traps are COLD. It was pitch black outside except for the sliver of crater rim and the stars. Thrusters on suits fired to keep feet planted and movement efficient. Sky made her way around Lima to a cargo pod the bottle had attached to the pumpkin earlier. The pod reacted to her transponder and cracked open, revealing an intimidating robotic exoskeleton. With a hop and a twirl she mounted it, latches fastened automatically and a moment later she was a 10 foot tall mechanical mantis with jaws of life, saws, torches and drills fanning out like a maximalist halloween costume, lumbering towards the crash site, red beacon lights twirling and thrusters firing downward with each step. As they neared the crash, her heart began to race. This lander was familiar. A turquoise Subaru Albereo heavy utility lander. Couldn’t be. She passed a piece of torn off aerogel cladding and a lump rose in her throat. A double take. It had a sticker on it, 4 cartoon elephants, mommy, daddy, kiddo, baby. She quickened her pace. “Slow down Sky, lotta pointy things here” Mbatha cautioned.
As she neared, Tapia switched on flood lights she planted around the perimeter. There was no mistaking it now. The painfully uncool color scheme, scuff marks, the after-market cargo rack, the campaign stickers.
This was her lander.
A light flickered weakly from within. She bounded over to the side window. The lander was laying on its hatch, and a mean gash in the cladding had clearly depressurized the interior. Sky’s helmet lights shone into the cabin.
Ben’s terrified, tear-soaked face filled the window. Sky nearly laid an egg. He was mouthing “mommy” over and over again. He was in his “Go Go Dinos” spacesuit, thank god. Sky waved at him with a reassuring smile, saying “I’m here Ben! I’m here! Mommy is here!” even though he couldn’t hear her. Her guts were in freefall.
The suit AI began lip reading and providing audio. In a sterile man’s voice, “daddy is hurt! He’s hurt mommy help daddy help him he has a big owie he’s hurt he’s hurt”. Sky peeked around the corner, sweeping her helmet lights across the dark cabin, and stopped on Jack, crushed under a pelican case, gasping for air and turning green. He was partially wrapped in thermal blanket. The vaguely aussie middle aged man's voice said “I put a blanket on daddy mommy he was cold so I put it on him help mommy help help help”.
I’m going to climb in there and murder him, thought Sky, shaking. Just then Mbatha piped up. “We’re gonna have to cut a hole, lander is on its hatch. Cabin is airless anyway… Adashan what the hell is that the mayor? Isn’t he your husband?”
Sky turned to look at Mbatha the way a movie psychopath turns to look at the camera. Mbatha nodded and slapped a penetration sticker on the hull. “Alright we have 10 minutes before… we have 10 minutes, it’s very cold. Timer on the hud.” A digital timer appeared in everyone’s field of vision:
00:10:00
Sky gestured to Ben to “back up”, which he thankfully understood and curled up in a corner opposite the window. One of her robotic drills found the sticker and began boring a hole. Then Mbatha fed in a pill shaped transmitter at the end of a golden cable and cracked the cap dangling at the end in his hand. Suddenly they could all hear the audio from Ben and Jack’s suit, and “2-way comms available” appeared in their huds.
The labored wheezing from Jack was not good, and the suit AIs immediately diagnosed a probable cause - “adult male 40 tension pneumothorax, hypoxia, hypothermia.” A new, more urgent timer appeared in their HUDs:
00:05:00
Tapia was talking to Jack. “Are you in pain?”
“Yeah… my chest… feels like bullshit.” Jack sounded TERRIBLE.
“Can you describe the pain for me?”
“Just like… steady ache… tight… I can’t catch…mmm-mmy breath, holy shit. Ben sit down buddy… away from the window.”
“Okay I want you to take it easy. How about is your heart racing yes or no”
Jack nodded “oh yeah. Oh boy, woozy, spinning. Oh man this sucks.” Eulaers was helping Mbatha deploy a ‘hug box’ - a self contained pressurized stretcher with waldos, internal robotics, inflatable body stabilizers and a fan that blasted warm air.
Sky was placing jacks under the lander quickly with her spidery robot arms. The neural intuitions had already schematized the lander, the nature of the damage, and the spatial threat layout. She was a whirlwind of activity. Suddenly electric torches blazed into life, jaws of life found a spot to cinch down, and she began cutting up the external hull, peeling back layers, carefully avoiding electrical, hydraulic, cooling and life support lines. Jack had managed to plug himself into the vehicle LSS, she was not about to let the ship kill him before she could.
00:01:30
A human sized hole had been cut out of the side of the lander. She stepped back as Eulaers quickly sprayed a rapidly expanding foam around the sharp edges, an anti-suit tear measure. Tapia and Mbatha climbed in. Tapia scooped up Ben and handed through the hole, shooting a mortified look at Sky as she scooped him into her arms. Ben was inconsolable, shaking, blue in the lips, visor fogged up. “You’re safe. Everything is okay. You’re safe. Mommy’s got you.” “Get daddy! Get daddy! Help daddy!” She was already hauling ass back to the lander. “ELEPHANT!” cried Ben. In her flood lights, she saw Ben’s pink stuffed elephant had been ejected from the lander and was resting on an icy patch of lunar desolation. “I’ll get elephant! Don’t worry I’ll get him okay? I’m gonna take you to the pumpkin rocket, okay? I’ll come back and get elephant.” Another Sloppy Victor was touching down nearby. Implant told her it was Utah. Two OSR emerged and were heading in the direction of the crash. “Remember uncle Tony?” Ben nodded pitifully. “Okay uncle Tony is coming this way right now to help you, he’s going to help you feel better in the pumpkin rocket.” This was news to Tony Villagomez, who got a super strong neural hint from Sky and quickly changed course. “On my way!” She handed Ben off to Tony. “Heeeyyy buddy!” “I want daddy!”
00:00:25
Sky wanted to throw up from adrenaline. She returned to the crash site and found Mbatha and Eulaers urgently trying to remove the pelican case pinning Jack. She cursed everything to bloody hell. “Step back.” She braced a couple robot arms against the edge of the opening, and reached in with the jaws of life, flipping them 180 to reveal a smaller set of precision shears. She sliced through a bent console bracket that was holding the pelican case fast. It came loose and was immediately moved aside by the others. She stepped out of the opening again.
“Okay this is going to hurt a lot for a few seconds Mr. Adashan. So sorry.” Eulaers nodded to Mbatha. “3, 2, 1, up!”. Jack fainted as they moved him into the hug box, quickly swapping the connection from the vehicle life support into the life saving device. The lid shut and the box puffed out as it pressurized.
On the way back, Sky picked up the stuffed elephant. It was completely frozen stiff.
—-------
Jack regained consciousness an hour later in a trauma suite aboard an OSR hospital ship. Sky was standing over him, arms folded. Sick with worry, livid, shaking.
“Oh man.”
She shrugged at him. Explain yourself.
“Um. I could use some water.”
She handed him a cup of ice chips, waiting and watching.
Jake spoke slowly, cautiously. “Right. We were going to grandma's house, like we usually do.” He shifted and winced. “And uh, well he was having a really hard time you know, just a tough morning without mommy. And Owen pooped all the way up his back and I was… I dunno just a lot was going on after you left. I was trying to gather…”
“Did you update the flight software like we talked about all month?” Sky interrupted him. He shut up.
“Jack.”
“Sky. The reminder went off. I was about to do it. But the whole morning went sideways.”
“Jack. I NEED you to be on top of it.” She was quivering. Tears were welling up. “Ben isn’t going to sleep right for a month. We’re fucked, Jack. We are fucked.” Couldn’t hold it back any longer.
“I know. I know.” Sky shot him a do you?? look. “Yes. I know.” She wasn’t satisfied. He tried a different tack. “Thank goodness for mommy. She’s a real superhero, I tell him that every day.”
“Jack I am NOT a superhero.”
“...I know.”
There was a long and terrible silence. Just medical equipment beeping. Someone 8 doors down was howling like a lunatic. Nurses shared a gallows humor chuckle down the hall. Sky sucked it up hard. She leaned over and kissed Jack on the forehead firmly. He felt the love and fear in the kiss. “I am so glad you’re here and I’m not doing this alone.” Jack sighed, evacuated.
“Where’s Ben?” “With my sister. He’s sleeping right now.” “Okay.” Jack looked out the window. Igaluk station and moon were coming into view again as the hospital rotated. Earth rise was happening. He closed his eyes. What an absolute garbage day.
“This sucks, Sky.” No reaction.
“There’s medical tape snagging my pubes.”
She laughed a little. Jack smiled. “Can you hang out a bit? Or do they need you back?” Sky sat down in the chair next to him. “No, Gus gave me the week.” Jack felt winded all over again. “Aren’t you guys short?” Sky nodded.
“Man. Thank Christ for Gus”. Sky nodded to that as well.
More silence. She shook out the nerves, drummed on her thighs and looked at Jack, feigning weighty resolution.
She pulled a zip lock bag full of children’s letters out of her coverall and held it up. “Wanna read these with me?”