Free Alder's World Part One: Mass 17 by Joel Stottlemire

a year or two
before I got there. I guess Carol was kind of a big sister to me.
Anyway, we ’ d lay up there, on
the platform over the air control tower wrapped in thermals, our
breath steaming, waiting for that stupid platform and
she ’ d tell me about deep
space; just stuff she ’ d read.
She used to go on about every new planet that anyone found,
didn ’ t matter where; ice ball
around Tenni, lava soaked hell planet somewhere else. I
don ’ t think
I ’ d ever thought about going
into space before Carol. My mom was a power plant technician. Back
then, it was still a big deal even to go to the moon. People only
went up for honeymoons and vacations.
    “ Anyway, when Carol found
out about the Solo project, she put in for a transfer to League
Prime that hour.” She scowled. “ I
can ’ t even remember agreeing
to go with her. I just was there somehow, submitting my paperwork.
I didn ’ t have any family
closer than Carol so I guess it made sense. We finished our degrees
out there and were first in line for candidate selection. ‘ We ’ re going on the first ship kiddo. ’ She told me. ‘ The very first ship. ’ She was like that. She said
we ’ d get on the first ship
headed for deep space and here we are. Except.” Her eyes teared up fully and her face changed. “ Except
she ’ s not here.
She ’ s dead and it just me. I
just came because she told me I should. I
don ’ t want to be here
anymore. Everyone keeps talking about fix this and do this so we
don ’ t die and I keep
thinking, ‘ I
don ’ t care. This is
wrong. ’” She met
Elana ’ s eyes for the first
time, tears streaming down her face. The years had shed off of her
and she was a lonely, teenager again. “ I
don ’ t want to be here. I want
to go home. Please, can ’ t I
please just go home? ”

Divisions
    There
was no argument. Well, there was a lot of argument; cold weld, or
fusion threading; unpowered stress loading or pressure fields.
There were hundreds of arguments everyday about every aspect of the
task ahead but none, not one, about whether or not the landing was
necessary.
    It made Alder
uncomfortable. Part of the scientific process was rigorous
examination of the evidence, occasionally even a painful public
vetting, but no one had questioned him. They came to him like he
was some sort of prophet. “ Alder, if we route the plasma conduits directly to the hard
point, will it improve our odds?” “ Alder, will the weight distribution negatively impact our
chances? ”
    He kept waiting for
someone anyone to corner him, berate him for his stupidity, and
give a dozen better options. Even a dozen worse options would have
been better than this. Why didn ’ t anyone even try?
    At least they were busy.
Thirty days had just vanished. It seemed like there were more tasks
than people. The remains of the gamma ray pulse generator and a
couple plasma wave guides had been jury rigged into a working
nuclear fuel enrichment furnace. New control software was being
written for the strange flight they were about to take. Everywhere,
struts were being taken down from here and welded in place there.
Someone had gotten the bright idea to make mesh harnesses for the
livestock. Alder was sure some of the crew were getting more sleep
than he was, but it sure didn ’ t seem like it. Everyone seemed to be everywhere at all
hours. They all had to be exhausted. If he had to put a number to
it, Alder would have guessed that Ronald Midbits was probably
getting more sleep than any three of the crew.
    Alder rounded a corner in
the Engineering Bay headed for
Mbaka ’ s pod and slowed. He
had requested a meeting with Mbaka but Assistant Security Chief
Fisher and two of the engineers were between him and the door. They
were posed as if expecting him. The two lower ranking men turned to
Fisher who spoke. “What’s up Alder?” He
was tall with light brown skin and a broad angular body. Although
he was over 40 he read much younger. He was smiling broadly