But other than that, sure, we have all the free time in the world. Otherwise what’s the point? We came out here to get some breathing room—mental and physical. Unlike the moles, we’ve got plenty of both.
Have you ever seen a tulip? It’s a flowering plant. No nutritional value, short bloom. Down belowground, they’re grown in decorative troughs for special occasions—ambassadorial visits, arts festivals, sporting events, that sort of thing.
Anyway. Take a tulip flower and stick an ovoid bladder where the stem was and you’ve got the idea. Except big. Really big. And the petals move. Some of us call it Mama. I just call it home.
The outer skin is a transparent, flexible organic membrane. You can see right through to the central organ systems. The surrounding bladders and sinuses provide structure and protection. Balloons inside a bigger balloon, filled with helium and hydrogen. The whole organism ripples with iridescence.
We live in the helium-filled sinuses. If you get close enough, you can see us moving around inside. We’re the dark spots.
While Ricci slept, I called everyone to the rumpus room for a quick status check. All seven of us lounged in the netting, enjoying the free flowing oxygen/hydrogen mix, goggles and breathers dangling around our necks.
I led the discussion, as usual. Nobody else can ever be bothered.
“Thoughts?” I asked.
“Ricci seems okay,” said Eddy. “And I like what’s-her-name. The mole on the comm.”
“Jane. Yeah, pretty smile,” said Bouche. “Ricci’s fine. Right Vula?” Vula frowned and crossed her arms. She’d hooked into the netting right next to the hatch and looked about ready to stomp out.
“I guess,” she said. “Rude, though.”
“She was just trying to be funny,” said Treasure. “I can never predict who’ll stick and who’ll bounce. I thought Chara would claw her way back down belowground. Right through the skin and nosedive home.”
Chara grinned. “I still might.”
We laughed, but the camaraderie felt forced. Vula had everyone on edge.
“We’ll all keep an eye on Ricci until she settles in,” Eleanora said. “Are we good here? I need to get back to training. I got a chess tournament, you know.”
“You always have a tournament.” I surveyed the faces around me, but it didn’t look like anyone wanted to chat.
“As long as nobody hogs the uplink, I never have any problems,” said Bouche. “Who’s training Ricci?”
“Who do you think?” I said. We have a rule. Whoever scared off the last one has to train the replacement.
We all looked at Vula.
“Shit,” she said. “I hate training newbies.”
“Stop running them off then,” said Chara. “Be nice.”
Vula scowled, fierce frown lines scoring her forehead. “I’ve got important work to do.”
No use arguing with Vula. She was deep in a creative tangle, and had been for a while.
“I’ll do it,” I said. “We better train Ricci right if we want her to stick.”
When Ricci woke up, I helped her out of the hammock and showed her how to operate the hygiene station. As soon as she’d hosed off the funk, she called Jane on her appliance.
“Take off your breather for a moment,” Jane said. “Goggles too. I need to see your face.”
Ricci wedged her fingernails under the seal and pried off her breather. She lifted her goggles. When she grinned, deep dimples appeared on each cheek.
Jane squinted at her through the screen. She nodded, and Ricci replaced the breather. It attached to her skin with a slurp.
“How do I look?” Ricci asked. “Normal enough for you?”
“What’s the failure rate on that thing?”
“Low,” Ricci said.
Point two three percent. Which is low unless you’re talking about death. Then it’s high. But we have spares galore. Safety nests here, there, and everywhere. I could have chimed in with the info but Jane didn’t want to hear from me. I stayed well back and let Ricci handle her friend.
“Has anyone ever studied the long-term effects of living in a helium atmosphere?” Jane asked. “It can’t be healthy.”
“Eyes are a problem.” Ricci tapped a finger on a goggle lens. “Corneas need oxygen so that’s why we wear these. The hammocks are filled with air, so we basically bathe in oxygen while we’re sleeping. But you’re right. Without that the skin begins to slough.”
Jane made a face. “Ugh.”
“There’s air in the common area, too—they call it the rumpus room. That’s where they keep the fab and extruder. I’m supposed to be there now. I have to eat and then do an orientation session. Health, safety, all that good stuff.”
“Don’t forget to take some time to get to know your hab-mates, okay?”
“I met them when I got here.”
“One of them is Vula, the artist, right? The sculptor. She’s got to be interesting.”
Ricci shrugged. “She looked grumpy.”
I was impressed. Pretty perceptive for someone who’d been half-drowned in anesthetic.
“What’s scheduled after training?”
“Nothing. That’s the whole point of coming here, right?”
“I wondered if you remembered.” A smile broke over Jane’s face, star-bright even when glimpsed on a small screen at a distance. “You need rest and recreation.”
“Relaxation and reading,” Ricci added.
“Maybe you’ll take up a hobby.”
“Oh, I will,” said Ricci. “Count on it.”
Yes, I was spying on Ricci. We all were. She seemed like a good egg, but with no recourse to on-the-spot conflict intervention, we play it safe with newbies until they settle in. Anyone who doesn’t like it can pull down a temporary privacy veil to shield themselves from the bugs, but most don’t bother. Ricci didn’t.
Plus we needed a distraction.
Whether it’s half a million moles in a hole down belowground or eight of us floating around in the atmosphere, every hab goes through ups and downs. We’d been down for a while. Some of it was due to Vula’s growly mood, the worst one we’d seen
