Free Spin the Sky by Katy Stauber Page A

that means next to nothing in the orbitals. The Caribbean Coffee Conglomerate has been running smoothly for the last eight years under the leadership of a boy who inherited it at the age of thirteen.
    Penelope shrugs. “We’ll see. He wants to travel, you know? See the rest of the sky and maybe even visit Earth. Trevor is still young enough to think he wants adventure. He talks about piloting a merchant ship.”
    She doesn’t sound enthusiastic about it.
    Cesar isn’t anxious for the boy to go flinging himself across the void either. Particularly since Cesar knows exactly what kind of trouble a young boy with wanderlust can find out there.
    “Adventure,” scoffs Cesar. “I guess all young men are foolish that way. I hope he survives to learn the value of a boring life.”
    Penelope sighs, “Me too. I think he’s keyed up to go because of his dad being… not around.”
    Cesar scowls. “Maybe Trevor thinks he can find out what happened to him? Or maybe Trevor thinks he can right the wrongs his father committed?”
    Penelope laughs, “Oh, he’s just a kid. I doubt Trevor thinks about much of anything. He’s got too many hormones running around in his body. There aren’t enough pretty girls his age to distract him here so he’s hot for space.”
    “Cowgirls aren’t good enough for him?”
    “They are all older than he is or too scary for my tender young boy,” she laughs.
    The elevator doors open onto the agricultural level. It’s like a doorway to the Garden of Eden. Pastures, fields of crops, and other pastoral delights stretch as far as the eye can see. Of course, they stretch up and away, following the curve of the orbital’s outer wall.
    Until they solved the problem of how to shield plants and people from the deadly radiation in space, long-term colonies of people outside of the Earth hadn’t been possible. The key to solving this complicated technological dilemma turned out to be dirt. Packing dirt several feet deep along the outer walls stopped the radiation. With tons of dirt lining the outer walls, it made that level of the orbitals primed for agricultural purposes.
    As Cesar’s father, Larry, said on more than one occasion, “If you got a pile of dirt, you might as well stick a bean in it.”
    The only down side is that complementary plants and animals must be genetically engineered to thrive at a higher gravity than Earth normal since the habitation levels were invariably above the agricultural levels. Spacers learned to spin their orbitals so the habitation level has Earth normal gravity. It’s easier to sleep when your head weighs what it should.
    Penelope turns and grins at Cesar. The sight of the herd always makes her smile. “You remember being Trevor’s age? Doing insane things because you are too stupid to know better?”
    Cesar vividly remembers the feel of Penelope in his arms the night she promised to fly to the stars with him. He also remembers a very steamy ride in the drone cab before they boarded the shuttle away from the planet. Cesar convinced Penelope to run away to Ithaca with him when she was only two years older than Trevor was now.
    “Nope,” coughs Cesar, turning away from her. “I’m too old to be remembering kid stuff.”
    Penelope looks disappointed, but not really upset. “Let’s get this stuff over to the composter.”
    Every home on Ithaca has a small composting unit, but for a large garden on the upper level like Penelope’s, it is easier to bring it straight down to the main composter for the herd.
    As they unload the vegetable refuse, the herd moves toward them on the off chance that there might be tomatoes or sugar cane or something else that cows consider the height of sophistication in cud flavoring.
    When Cesar sees the herd, he can’t help but whistle in appreciation. “That’s a fine looking head of beef,” he tells Penelope. He inspects their hooves, checks their teeth and slaps their meaty flanks with frank approval.
    They are too.