Going Interstellar (collection)

“I think it did. I think they just don’t want to hear it. He’s good—a containment expert, in fact. They need him more than they do me. I’m dispensable.”

“That’s not fair,” Skunk said.

“It’s not right, either.” Isabet wriggled impatiently against the straps that held her on the stool. “Our contracts provide for redress of grievances.”

Ginger sighed. “You’re the only one of us who ever reads those,” she said.

Happy Feet spread his hands. “I, of course, don’t actually read,” he said slyly.

“Oh, you do, too,” Skunk said. “I mean, you can.”

Happy waggled his eyebrows and did a little freefall dance, feet and hands flashing so that he rose against the restraining straps like a puppy pulling at his leash. “Waste of effort,” he said blithely. “I just dance!”

“In the maintenance tubes?” Skunk said sourly.

Happy chuckled. “If you could only see me.”

Skunk shook his head. “I don’t know how you stay so cheerful. We’re trapped here. No better than slaves.”

“We’re not slaves,” Ginger said.

Isabet said sharply, “That’s right. We get paid, we have opportunities, and responsibilities. We should be treated with respect.”

“I don’t think Tie Dye agrees,” Happy said.

“You better be careful with him,” Ginger warned. “If he catches you alone someplace—”

“Yeah, I know. I can take care of myself.” Isabet paused, tilting her head, listening. “Notice that?”

“What?” Skunk said.

“The ship. We’re getting ready to brake.”

“How can you tell?”

“The vibration changes. You can’t feel it?”

The other three shook their heads. Happy said, “I can’t believe you can tell.”

“You just have to be sensitive to it. Three days now, and we’ll be there.”

“I don’t know how you know that,” Happy Feet said.

Isabet patted his thin cheek. “Reading, Hap. Reading. That thing you say you don’t do.”

The four of them gathered in the aft observation area as Ganymede began to swell against the blackness of space, with the great disc of Jupiter a vague, immense shadow beyond it. As the ship adjusted attitude, they sank to the deck, briefly weighted, then rose again. It was like being aboard an ocean-going vessel, and Isabet saw Ginger swallow and press her hand to her lips. “It’ll pass in a little while,” she said, touching Ginger’s shoulder. “We’ll be in electrogravity soon. It’s magnetic, so we’ll pick it up from the habitat.”

Skunk said, “Wow, Isabet. I don’t know how you know all that.”

“My third voyage.”

“Yeah, but—electro-what?”

“Electrogravity. There’s a great video about the habitat, Skunk. You should see it.”

Ginger nodded, but she still looked a little green. Happy moved close to her other side, and steadied her with his arm. Isabet turned back to gaze with pleasure at the lavender-tinted disc of Ganymede. The poles of the moon glistened faintly, and the pockmarks of craters layered the surface. Isabet pressed her palms together, entranced. This was her reward for putting up with the indignities of the North America, with the insults of Tie Dye and the rest of the crew. She never tired of it. She only wished—

“That’s it?” Ginger said, pointing to the disc.

“That’s it,” Isabet said happily. It was somehow massive and delicate at the same time, and it seemed immune from the ugliness that had overtaken Earth, the crowding, the fouled air, the threatening seas. She sighed with pleasure. “That’s Ganymede.”

“It’s so dim,” Ginger said. “I thought it would be brighter.”

“We’re a long way from the sun,” Isabet said. She felt a faint disappointment that Ginger didn’t share her admiration for the magnificence of the alien world. “Wait till you see Starhold,” she said. “You won’t think that’s dim.” She yearned to see the inside of the habitat, but she didn’t say so. There wasn’t much chance of that happening, and the others wouldn’t understand.

A half hour passed, with Ginger gulping nausea, and even Skunk groaning once or twice. Isabet felt the acceleration as the ship changed its trajectory, but her stomach didn’t react. She clung to the bar beneath the window, and waited with gleeful anticipation for her first glimpse of Starhold One.

“There it is!” She pressed as close to the icy plexiglass as she could, peering out into the layered darkness. It was tiny at first, a star among stars, only discernible because she knew it had to be there. The North America rolled as it aligned with the docking ports. Isabet fastened her gaze on the habitat’s yellow and amber lights. She could pick out the lighted column of the vacuum elevator, revealed in fragments by the myriad windows. The habitat, silver and ovoid, shone dully against the backdrop of space. Layers of fuel cells spiraled around it, making it look like a gigantic seashell.

“Is that it?” Ginger asked. “That egg-shaped thing?”

“Yes,” Isabet said. “That’s it. Starhold One.”

“Why One?”

“Because there will be others, as we go further out,” Isabet said. “Space Service already has plans for two more. They’re mining Ganymede, and building an antimatter plant.”

“Why?” Ginger asked.