Defying Gravity

CHAPTER 1: THE DIPLOMAT’S DAUGHTER

The United Nations of Earth’s (the UNE) Tranquility Base— The Moon

Amari Josephine Omehia was having a tantrum. A good old-fashioned tantrum more suited to someone eight-years-old, rather than eighteen, but she was having it anyway. A message from her mother had flashed up on her tablet.

Your father and I have decided it's best we all return to Kinshasa. Get packed and ready. We're on the next shuttle.

I have to leave the Moon and head back down to Earth? Maybe forever?

She paced back and forth in front of her sleeping pod, frustration and despair overcoming her.

I can’t go back. I can’t! Her heart raced and tears flowed down her cheeks.

***

Tranquility housed 15,000 personnel and their families. UNE diplomats, there to resolve the issues with their counterparts representing the Federation of Space Colonies and Stations (the FSCS).

Encompassing every other human presence in space, the FSCS included both Mars colonies; the massive Delta V Station orbiting Saturn, and all other smaller vessels and research stations as far as the Triton One base near Neptune — humanity’s furthest footstep.

Amari's father, Atido Zera Omehia— Chairman of the UNE's biggest nation, the Chinese-African Alliance— was the most senior of those diplomats. With talks breaking down, he'd ordered all UNE staff and their families back to Earth.

Including Amari.

She'd finally escaped the boredom of school and the pressures of high-society back in hot, humid, and conservative Kinshasa. Tranquility Base offered a new life, and she had just begun exploring. It was small, yes, but nearly everywhere was small compared to Kinshasa, a thirty-million strong mega-city in the Congo.

The Mars colonies also beckoned. Perhaps they could be stepping stones, and she’d make her way to that mysterious space station that orbited Saturn. She'd heard that people from all cultures and backgrounds mixed happily there, with no pressure to conform.

The message from her parents was typical in its brevity. Her father had always been cold. She knew damn well that he’d wanted a son, but his wife wouldn’t agree to use the pre-selection technology their wealth afforded them. He had greeted Amari's arrival with disappointment.

Attention from her mother seemed plentiful as a child, but her mother’s focus had soon shifted to politics and their social circles.

Her tablet chimed with an additional message, interrupting her angry pacing:

I know you might be upset about leaving, but I forgot to mention… there’s a certain young gentleman in Kinshasa keen to meet you. He’s very eligible.

Amari’s heart sank further.

Not another one! No doubt this latest “young gentleman” was eligible because he also came from a powerful political family.

That meant the worst kind of man—one that felt entitled. Was her mother’s message about this guy supposed to cheer her up? If so, it showed how little she knew about her daughter.

Amari tried to stop her mind spinning and thought about how to escape this impending disaster. She had limited options; if she boarded that shuttle with her parents, the chances of escaping the life she’d hated down on Earth were slim.

That's not going to happen. I’m running away.

Blinking away her tears, she ducked through the short doorway into her parent’s sleeping pod and grabbed her father's spare ID bracelet from his desk. She did a quick check to make sure her purple diplomatic jumpsuit and matching headscarf were tidy. Her meticulously braided cornrows of black hair remained tucked away inside. At around five-foot-ten, Amari was taller than most of her peers and more solidly built. Her father boasted that their family tree went back to a warrior tribe some generations ago— The only thing he’d ever said that made Amari feel proud.

Those genes accounted for the strong legs that she now put into action, taking long strides out of the family quarters and down the metal corridor. Her mag-boots thumped up and down as she hurried through the lunar base towards the shuttle bay, trying to get as much of a head start on her parents as possible.

The loading docks leading to the launch pads were in a state of semi-organised chaos. Seats on shuttle flights were in hot demand. A rabble of diplomats debated with launch staff about just how important they were, while their families hung back trying to look dignified.

Amari made her way past the commotion to the quieter end of the dock, keeping her head down and trying to look as natural as possible. Over the last few weeks, she had built up a good understanding of all the comings and goings of Tranquillity Base, as she explored her new home. The shuttle on the furthest of the three launch pads had FSCS Spacer markings; it was returning to deep space under a reciprocal agreement that allowed some UNE personnel to return home to Earth from Mars.

Sometimes it pays to watch the boring news feeds. This is my ride, as far from Kinshasha as I can get!

She waved her father’s bracelet in front of the airlock’s sensor, correctly guessing that it would have the highest level of access across the base. The second door opened as the first door closed, indicating the shuttle had been pressurised. The interior was brightly lit and deathly quiet.

Amari walked down the shuttle’s central aisle, examining ten passenger compartments, each containing a fully reclining seat, a sleeping pod, a desk, Zero-G exercise gym and various appliances for both life-support and entertainment. This was luxury accommodation compared to the shuttle she had travelled in to reach the Moon, but the length of the trip to Saturn would still test any passenger's endurance.

She wasn’t sure where to hide. Every passenger compartment opened at a wave of her father’s bracelet, but it would be too risky hiding in one of those.

Maybe I can find somewhere in the communal areas, or even the crew compartment? I must figure out how to buckle up for the launch, or at least squeeze in somewhere tight, so I don’t fly about the cabin.

She was sweating now, and not just from the hurried walk over to the shuttle bay.

Am I brave enough to do this?

A vision of hot and dusty Kinshasa appeared in her mind, accompanied by an unknown suitor and a life in politics and high-society.

Not for this tribal warrior, thank you! I want my own life.

A low rumbling sound began to build, and the floor vibrated. She spun around, trying to figure out what was going on.

Something's wrong!

Engines only start up right before launch, at which point she’d be thrown back down the centre of the cabin at a bone-breaking speed.

Waving the bracelet at the nearest compartment door, she jumped through as soon as it swished open. Enough of her bottom landed on the seat, and she grabbed the three-point harness and buckled herself in.

She tried to calm down, to slow her breathing, and stop shaking.

I’m ok. I'm strapped in.

Hydraulic rams under the shuttle tilted it up, its nose oriented space ward; Amari’s stomach rolled, goose bumps forming on her arms. The engines roared. The force of acceleration shoved her back into the seat, rudely pushing the air from her lungs.

***

What the news feeds hadn’t told Amari was that the remaining Spacers had already left Tranquillity Base the previous night. The shuttle's AI computer had received a data pack of instructions from Delta V; a plot of the most economical route home that would take it beyond Saturn’s orbit, to slingshot back into Delta V’s grasp, in coordination with the station’s orbit of Saturn. Not the usual fast route for passenger flights at all, but rather the longer, more power efficient route for freight, and empty shuttles.

A six-month journey.

The shuttle escaped the Moon’s gravity, its AI eased back thruster power. No longer being held down in her seat by the G-forces of acceleration, Amari relaxed, unbuckled her harness and stood to explore her new habitat.

Looks like I’ve got this shuttle all to myself then. Everything will be fine.

Such pleasant thoughts were interrupted by the realisation that the cabin temperature was dropping.

Uh oh, it's getting cold in here!

She understood the full implications of the temperature drop just before all the lights died.

Oh shit! Life-support is shutting down! There was never going to be any passengers on this thing…

Surrounded by near darkness, a clear thought made its way into her panic-stricken mind.

I need to get into a preservation pod, and fast!

She frantically searched the cabin, bumping off walls and consoles in the dark, until she discovered the life preservation pods just behind the cockpit. Slapping the touch- screen on the side of the nearest one brought it to life, with some welcome lighting spilling underneath it.

The temperature fell to five degrees Celsius— and kept dropping. She remembered learning in college that space was about -270 degrees Celsius; suddenly hot and dusty Kinshasa didn’t look so bad.

Trying not to shake with fear, she took a deep breath and did her best to read the instructions scrolling up the preservation pod’s screen. Her heart was beating so hard she could hear it, and her breath was now visible in the air.

Shit, it’s freezing!

The first instruction directed her to use the bathroom; luckily only a few feet away. She hurriedly relieved herself in the dark. Step two, called for removing all clothes and climbing into the pod.

She stripped off in lightning-fast time, trying to ignore the biting cold. Pushing an icon on the touchscreen caused the pod’s glass top to open like a clam shell, revealing a coffin-like interior lined with soft blue gel. Amari climbed in and lay down flat. Her back and bottom felt warm now, in sharp contrast to her exposed front. Sweat from panic and physical exertion froze against her skin. She might have thought it looked pretty, like white frosting on a chocolate cake, if it didn't feel like a thousand mosquitos biting her skin.

Sensor pads had to be retrieved from the inside walls of the lower half of the pod, behind the gel layer. Cables and tubes stretched out, as she pulled the pads free and stuck one onto her upper arm, one onto the outside of a thigh and another smaller one on her chest, right over her heart.

You can get through this, come on.

Next, she had to insert an IV line into a vein in her arm. A helpful instructional video played on a second screen in the pod’s cover, facing down at her. She was still terrified. The guy demonstrating on the video made it look like sticking a needle halfway into your arm was something you did every day. She pulled the IV line from its compartment. It came with a band to tighten just below her shoulder. She did the best she could with it, squeezing her hand into a fist just like he did. Blinking back tears, she pushed the needle into what looked like a vein.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!

A cool pulse of liquid entered her arm and tingled its way up. The pod was testing the line. It seemed she’d got the procedure right the first time, so she reached up to skip the video past the “if you can’t find a vein” part.

The final instruction told her to press the acknowledgement button, and the pod lid would close. An explanation accompanied this—the pod needed to test its pressurisation and life-support systems in a sealed state. The process would only take around 30 seconds, and then she’d be put into a light coma with drugs through the IV line. Anyone suffering from claustrophobia, could interrupt the process and open the lid if they wished, but that would cause the pod to re-initialise its systems, and that could take up to 30 minutes.

No going back now. I won't survive thirty minutes in this cold.

It’s push the button— or freeze to death.

She drew in a deep breath and blinked the tears from her eyes, then pressed the acknowledgement button.

Please God, let me wake up after this. I’ve never been horrible to anyone or done bad things. I just wanted my own life!

The lid closed.

The bright instruction screen, now a few inches from the tip of her nose, displayed crawling progress bars, and indicators glowing green. They provided small comfort.

Another pulse of liquid streamed into her vein. Amari let out a last miserable sob as her vision greyed, then blackened...

...then.... nothing...

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