Chapter 3 - CHAPTER TWO: FIRST DISCOVERY

Friday, March 15th, 20XX

Ensign Jacques Delende sat in the cockpit of an SR-4-039 Scouting Rover, as by his steering it rocked and tumbled across the rocky landscape of the planet Kepharon. The other three were back in the passenger cabin talking things over; he barely listened, but still heard discussion of the plants he'd accidentally found, the location of this star system in towards the center of this arm of the Milky Way, and that other guy's past, the geologist, Kyle. Eventually, that same green clad man climbed up into the driver's cabin and spoke to him: "Hey, uh, Mr. Delende."

"Ensign."

"Yes, Ensign Delende. Uh, Dr. Farris wants to know if we can go towards where you found those extraterrestrial autotrophs."

Jacques rolled his eyes. "Tell her we can, but that cave is deep within ravine tunnels, and there's no way down without some way to fly down, which we don't have." Kyle went back to consult Makayla, and Jacques, smirking, stayed his present course.

Kay came up next. "We've got mining equipment, Jacques. Fred says he can use it."

Jacques groaned. He tapped at his holotab. "We need to be back in, like, four hours, and the cave is something like fifty yards down. You think Wilson can manage all that with just a dinky little drill?" She went back to the passenger cabin to discuss.

She was up front again to speak to Jacques only a few short minutes later. Precious minutes of uncontested silence, broken: "They were growing in a heavy deposit of thrascite crystals, right? Well, maybe we if we find another deposit like that, closer to the surface…"

"And how do you suppose we do that, Kay?" he asked, twisting his neck to glare. "We're the first ones out here, even before the miners. You got a compass that points to glowy purple rocks?"

"No, but we have a geologist…"

Jacques brought the rover to a halt so Kyle could perform some kind of geological scan. He sat in a seat of the research station built into the vehicle's rear cabin, and all three stood behind him, watching, or in Jacques' case, watching annoyed. We could've just gone two hours straight out, had a little look around, and went two hours straight back. Now we're on a goddamn crystal treasure hunt, and if we do find something, one of these nerds is gonna want to stay longer, and there goes dinner. He was supposed to practice with the SHs today, but now he was stuck being a chauffeur on about the closest thing to a boring old Earth truck. And tomorrow he'd have to wear a cheerleader costume, and do all her stupid paperwork. Why did I take that bet, and WHY did I insist on keeping to it!? Because he'd seen it in Commander Jensen's eyes. She'd said it was no big deal, but she'd wanted him to say 'no no, I'll do it'. And he did… like an idiot! So what, so she'd respect him? Who's gonna respect you in a skirt and pom-poms, Jacques? Huh?

"A-hah!" Kyle shouted. "High concentration of crystallized thrascite, twelve yards down but exposed to the surface, and not more than eighty-six miles that way!" He pointed a ways right of their current course. "I'll send it to your map, Ensign, oh, this is perfect! We'll have plenty of time to search the area!"

Jacques sighed and hopped up to the front. He found the waypoint on his holomap, turned, and got them rolling again. For an hour or so they went on, rolling along, gently bumping, dodging ridges and cliffs. Their clocks were all still set to Earth-time, which wasn't aligned to this planet's orbit at all. Annoying, but in part due to the impossibility: days here were just under two hours longer than on Earth. So while clocks went from 14:30 to 15:50, here on Kepharon it was, and essentially remained mid-morning. The rising star was at their back.

The rover reached a wide cleft in the land; a canyon some twenty feet across, which stretched in both directions as far as Jacques' naked eyes could see. "Right," he said, and checked the map again. He shouted to the back: "The waypoint's a quarter-klick past that ravine. There's a scoping-ladder in the trunk, that should get you across the gap Kay!"

He heard the stomping of boots and the rustling search in the trunk. Fred Wilson's voice said: "What's a click?" and Kay murmured some response.

She came up front. "You not coming with us, Ensign?"

Jacques leaned back in his pilot seat and laced fingers behind his head. "Nah. Had about enough of cliffs and crystals for awhile."

"Sure," she said. "Kyle's gonna stay behind too, for some kind of deep geological survey. You two can keep each other company!"

He rolled his eyes, then bobbed his head and silently mouthed in the same rhythm she'd spoken that last sentence. She grinned, said: "See ya in an hour, Delende," and walked to the back. Two helmets fastened behind him, then both her and the maintenance man entered the airlock and were out.

"I will be conducting a Multi-layer Substrate Density and Composition Scan," said Kyle from the lab behind. "Please, Ensign Delende, do not move this vehicle for the next… sixty-nine minutes and… forty-three seconds."

"Sure, whatever," he muttered. They better not take too long…

***

"Yeah, something about his computer," said Livvy. "Doubt we'll find many prospects in C&E."

She and Kevin sat in their quarters. "Sure, 'computer troubles'," he said. "Don't be so sure, though, about 'no prospects'. They've got firsthand experience with all the usual problems."

"Won't be Bradley, that's for sure," she said. She stood now, collected her watch, and as she left, she said to him: "Work's just getting started."

Kevin sat there at their wall-mounted kitchen table for a while longer, underneath a blue-and-navy college pennant. He had work to do there on his holotab, which now sat upright on the table, with a holographic keyboard jutting flat on the table before it to form a more traditional-looking computer workspace. He typed and tapped, and closely scrutinized intricate diagrams of circuits, silicone, and metal bits of casing. The suite in which he sat was silent, save the wavering buzz of the hologram.

In time he stood, collected his watch, and left. He strode past people in the hall, including a green-suited young woman named Farrah Hamadani, with whom he shared but a brief nod. He was in something of a rush; the hour was 15:45, and he had a meeting with his engineering team across the complex at 16 sharp. He liked to be quietly punctual.

Engineering, the 'E' of E&R, had a wide set of offices on this, the eastern side (they were using the rotational north of Kepharon) of the now-grounded living space from the Destiny. Most of the engineers were busy setting up the power grid, or coordinating maintenance orders for their flagship itself, as well as the smaller vehicles already being sent out onto the planet and beyond. Kepharon's three moons, as well as some other near-orbit planets and chunks of asteroid, had been scanned during Commander Michael Forster's scouting expedition here in the weeks prior, and they were discovered to contain Thrascephemium deposits as well. For the researchers and C&E extractors, today was more about that discovery phase: locating those deposits and determining their sizes, so the proper tools or mining rigs could be brought to extract them fully. And for Kevin Choi the day was about waiting. His role in the large team this meeting assembled was supplemental; he would only be called upon if several other bright engineers needed help, or pipe in if something seemed really wrong to him. He would listen.

He arrived at 15:53 and sat in a lobby sort of room, alone, and brought his holotab to life from his wrist. Here in the waiting room, and in the meeting after, he watched and silently listened, appearing bored. Sometimes, between taking job-related notes, he would add letters to a long list of them on his holo, two at a time; each person's uniform had an identification plate with first and last initials.

After the meeting he made his way to Maintenance (a subdivision of Construction), and rang a little digital bell at its lobby desk. There was a young administrative assistant, a thin young man clearly new to the job and frazzled, sitting at the desk behind, and Kevin said: "Choi. I had a parts request for Engineering, the ICC?"

"Yes, one moment Mr. Choi," said the man. He fumbled on his holocomputer.

Kevin looked down to the bright orange letters on the man's ID badge. "R-P… I don't believe we've met." He smiled and extended a hand. "I'm Kevin Choi, E&R, Engineering Department."

"Oh, um," the man took the handshake limply. "Randall Porter, C&E, Maintenance Administration… but everyone just calls me Randy." He adjusted his glasses and, after a hesitant pause, went back to his computer.

"...hey," said Kevin. "I know what I need. Think I could just go back there and ask someone?"

"Oh, well… with the system, we're supposed to…"

"Course, I got some friends that worked on the back-end," said Kevin. "But you could just put in that the request got met, right?" He smiled in a friendly way and laid his hands on the rim of the man's desk.

"Well…" Randy looked at Kevin's smiling, expectant face. "Oh alright, I—"

"Thanks," said Kevin, and he was already striding past the desk. He turned as he went, and added: "Oh, Randy: my friends and I are having a Poetry Club meeting at 7:30 tonight, room 168B. More of a mixer, really; come along, won't you?" He flashed a grin and carried on without waiting for an answer.

Kev was surprised to see a woman working in the rough-and-tumble Maintenance department. But I shouldn't be, he thought. We've all got our own dumb shit to work through.

He asked the short and stocky, dark pony-tailed lady her name, and she answered: "Dani Suarez," in a gruff way, seeming annoyed to have her time wasted.

Oh, I like her, he thought. "we need a right-angle kephemiflux throttle, not the straight one, uhh…"

Dani sighed, annoyed, and opened a large container behind her which held a wide array of compartmentalized engine parts. They were both in the ICC, standing in a little maintenance storeroom with many counter-tops and cabinets, including an island console in the middle. When the woman wasn't looking, Kev reached into one of the cabinets and, stone-faced, removed a part and slipped it into his pocket.

Dani stood and turned back to him. "Here, 90-throttle." She proffered the part to him. "That all?"

"Yeah… thanks!" Kevin spun to leave, but turned back. "Hey, um… we've been putting together this poetry club, me and my buddies…"

Suarez looked at him with her arms crossed, her squinting eyes saying: what, are ya kiddin' me?

"And, um… we've already got lots of people in. Commander Jensen said she was excited for it."

Dani Suarez raised one eyebrow. "Sure she did. Anything else?"

"N-no, all good. Thanks Ms. Suarez!" He hurried for the door. "Uhh, 7:30pm, room 168b… it'll be fun!" Then he was out.

***

Fred Wilson and Makayla Farris clambered across the thin gap via a G4TL-12-011 Telescoping Traversal Ladder which, when extended and laid on its side, automatically flattened its rungs to form very serviceable bridge-slats. She crouched low, and leapt forwards a few feet off it and onto the opposite edge of the cleft.

Fred joined her; they bounded across the low-gravity landscape. "So," he said, "what do you think of that Delende kid back there?"

"Heh, all business, huh?" she said. "Jacques… he's alright I guess. He's not that sour all the time, least not out loud. Went to MIT though… it's giving 'fly' a lil bit, y'know?"

"'Fly'? Oh, like in the… hyuh, yeah, Procyon, sure." He rolled his eyes. "But like… quiet, private school. Nerd."

She turned to frown back at him. "How'd you learn so much about scientific names and stuff, huh? You some kinda secret savant?"

"No," he said somberly. "I, uh… I always wanted to be a marine biologist. Not a 'savant,' though; wasn't even smart enough for a scholarship, and that was about the only way I'd make that work." He smiled. "I'll watch videos about it though, at dinner or 'fore bed. One time I spent a whole night on Wikipedia…"

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself," said Makayla. "It's like he says in Chocolate Rain: 'Test scores are how much the parents make'."

"Chocolate rain?" he said, confused, then scratched his upper arm. "…like the viral video? Damn, now that's a throwback…" Abruptly, he made a rightwards-bobbing motion with his upper body, then let out a low chuckle. Kayla rolled her eyes.

They crested a short ridge, over which they beheld what they'd come searching for: an outcropping of crystallized Thrascephemium, deep violet and sparkling with embedded Kephemeron particles, over which there were grown many leafy, lavender-colored vines. Dr. Farris cried out in joy and set herself jogging down the slope. Fred followed at a slower, but no less joyous trundle, feet jutting and digging to slow his descent. She reached the first of these overgrown crystals and rubbed a leaf in her fingers (E&R's suits were especially well radiation-shielded), saying: "Purple! Imagine how their photosynthesis' gotta work. The pigmentation, it's more like an aquatic plant, or the first halobacteria—maybe they absorb only the green starlight!"

She looked back at Fred, who shrugged. "I'm more about the animals I guess. Never really cared about plant stuff."

"It's all the same!" said Farris. She took out her camera and started taking digital photographs of the plants around her. "Well, maybe not here. But Earth plants; y'know over 58% of our genes are the same as a banana tree?"

"All cousins, yeah," he said. "Everything's related, one big family tree. And we're just the baldest kinda apes."

Makayla thumbed back at the rover, and the station beyond, smiling wide. "Yeah, but don't go makin' that point in front'a those motherfuckers." She cackled and snorted, in a way that looked as least as silly as she must've felt.

"Damn," said Fred, "and I thought you were all professional, Ice Cold. But here you are gigglin', and cheesin' and… uh, hey!" He lowered his voice and crouched. "Pssh, hey! Look!"

Makayla crouched behind a clump of crystals with him, and followed the man's gaze. She narrowed her eyes; out of the corner of her eye she'd seen moving shadows out by another viney mineral growth. "What is it?" she whispered.

"I—" Fred raised his head a few inches, peeking out to see further into the basin. He crouched down again. "I saw somethin' move. Think it was green… Kyle say he'd come out?"

"No, I… wait, I think I saw it! Shh, shh, let's get around to—"

A third voice startled them from behind: "Hey, what are you two doing?" It was Jacques Delende, trodding down towards them with no regard for the noise he was making.

Makayla glared at him and hissed: "Shh! Get down here! There's something out there…"

"What, something…" Jacques fell abruptly silent. He gasped and pointed. "What's that!?" He hurried towards the other two and slid into a crouch.

"Aliens," said Fred reverently. "I'll be damned. Look, there's an eye!"

"Shh!" said Jacques. "We don't know what kinda creatures they are! We should go get backup."

"What're you, stupid? This is history!" Makayla tapped the side of her helmet's chin. "Hmm, maybe they eat these plants…" She tore off a little leaf and crept forwards, out from behind their hiding place, holding the plant matter out in front of her.

Jacques inspected the plants again. He now noticed little sets of holes in them, three by three, lines of small circular marks not six inches across. "Hold on, yeah, these plants got holes in them. Lookin' like bite marks…" He saw something out of his peripheral vision and looked up, at just the moment a little chartreuse creature, with a hard round head and a fluidic, almost tentacle-like body (one might see a resemblance to an octopus), slithered out from behind a leafy crystal and bit him on the arm with six little conical teeth. "AAH!" he cried, and jumped back onto his feet before falling backwards off them. The green creature pseudopodded away in a flash.

"Yo, holy shit!" Makayla ran after the thing.

Jacques' pressurized suit sealed small tears automatically, so the six little holes in it closed up, and he was in no immediate danger of losing his air supply (or getting 'the bends'). The thing's teeth weren't even all that long; his skin hadn't been broken—he was shocked and annoyed, more than physically hurt. "Where the fuck are you—" he shouted after her, but Kay was out of sight. He turned to Fred. "You see that!? Lil gremlin tried to eat me! What is she—"

"Nah-h-h," said the burly man. "Looked more like'n explorin' bite, like sharks do. Thing was pro'ly just curious." He looked around at the crystals now, and the vines. "Gotta be some way to get 'em back…"

Jacques looked around warily. "They're still dangerous," he said. "We need some kinda protection before we go—"

"Got it!" Makayla shouted from beyond. She ran back towards them, her camera proudly brandished before her face. "Guys, look at this!" On their side of the crystal outcropping, the two men crowded around to look at her camera's screen, where they were given a more substantial glimpse of the aliens, in the form of still images:

They were pastel green, hard-headed with soft, stretchy tentacles (alike to pseudopods), and their three eyes were deep black. Their faces had jawed mouths, with six sharp little teeth each. In places they were spotted or mottled with patches of darker green. And in some of Makayla's pictures they were biting the leaves growing here. She even had a short video of this, and they were not tearing off the leaves to chew: they just bit and stayed there for a few seconds, before releasing still-intact leaves and moving on to another. Makayla squinted and replayed this video for her own sake; she zoomed in on the creature, and there was a subtle movement of the creature's jaws as it held a leaf in its shut mouth; a little undulation, like the alien was suckling.

"Oh-hoh shit, they're drinkin' from it," said Fred. "Maybe they need live leaves." He grabbed a nearby vine and pulled it, still attached into the ground, off its crystal anchor-point, tearing a few small tendrils. "Shhh," he said. "Ima try to get one near me."

"Wilson, stop that!" Jacques hissed. He was employed as just N&S—a pilot—but still he felt a responsibility to protect these two civilian workers; he'd been trained to such an urge. "These fuckin… leaf-vampires might wanna suck on us!"Pause… he thought, but shook himself out of it. Now wasn't the time for jokes.

He looked left for support and, to his dismay, found Makayla doing the same. "We're a foreign entity," she said to Jacques. "'Aliens,' to them, and that means we aren't part a' their food chain. They don't know what to make of us yet, and might not even need what nutrients we got. C'mon Jacques, we'll be fine." She wrapped a vine around herself, climbed up over one of the crystals, and sat in the middle of the growth.

Jacques scowled and joined them, without wrapping himself in vines. We don't know if this is safe! He thought to himself. "Kay, how heavy's the radiation comin' off these things?"

Dr. Farris checked her wristwatch. "Meh, not more'n our suits can handle. Shush, Jacques, or get lost if you can't shush!" He crossed his arms. Scientists…

He saw Fred grin and then avert his eyes, then a squelching sound: from beneath a triangular opening beneath two crossing crystals crept one of The Aliens, wary and hungry. Fred's orange-striped arm was already out with a vine danging out of his outstretched hand. With black, searching eyes the creature drew closer, then bit down on one of Fred's leaves and stayed there, sucking, drawing something out. Fred ventured with his other hand, slowly, gently, and offered the top of his closed fist. The creature released the leaf and tried to bite the hand of the man who'd fed it, but its jaw couldn't open wide enough; it settled for examining the thick knuckles with its three wide eyes. All three humans watched the alien intently as it headbutted Fred's hand: once, twice, and then it rubbed the hand with one of its amorphous little tentacles. He moved the hand and the creature flinched, then drew closer again. His hand was open now, stretched wide. It bit his index finger, then quickly spit it out. Fred reached out faster and pet the thing on the top of its bumpy head, and at his touch the creature darted away and out of sight. Fred laughed.

Amazed, reverent now as well, Makayla whispered: "What should we call them?"

Jacques shook his head. "Gremlins…"

"Vampires, right?" whispered Fred. "How about Ansabos, eh Jacques?"

"You…" Jacques frowned. What is he, a cryptozoologist, fuckin' conspiracy quack?"It's Sasabonsam, but… you actually believe in all that nonsense?"

"Hyuh," said Fred. "I just think it's cool. Scientists name everything after greek gods, or celebrities or whatever, why not?"

Makayla Farris stood. "We don't know anything about its phylogeny, or DNA (if they even have it), or anything yet. But sasaboansam is as good a scientific name as any, and I don't see any records of creatures like this in E&R's files. So there it is." She tapped her holotab. "Alright, let's go find others. The more we learn about their behavior the better, and maybe I can take a little tissue sample."

"Think I'll stay here," said Fred, and he grinned and shook a vine. "More'll come to me once you twoIvy-Leaguersare outta the picture." Jacques and Kayla tromped off towards the center of the crystal-filled basin.

Jacques checked his watch. "We've only got like twenty minutes before we gotta head back," he said. "I'll set an alarm."

"Oh, Jacques," she said, "can't you calm down for one minute? We just discovered extraterrestrial life! Meetings, and deadlines, and dinner can wait!" She spun round, arms wide, admiring their wondrous surroundings.

Jacques' stomach growled. "Oh yeah, this is just great. Now you've got your big discovery, that's it, huh? Well, maybe you can stop being so annoying all the time…"

She frowned at him. "I was gonna say you're like Sena," she said, "all 'hurry up, we have places to be!' but that's not quite right. Least she was excited to be doin' cool stuff."

"Oh yeah, oh yeah," he replied, and threw up his hands, "so happy to be here for your big break. Kay Farris, the first woman to discover aliens! Breaking through that STEM glass ceiling!"

"Mine's tinted, too, and you should know that," she said. "So go be a downer somewhere else, with your 'meritocracy' shit." She stomped off ahead of him.

Oh yeah, she is just bitter, he thought. Unlike his sister, Kay had been a law student, and also unlike Sena, she'd flunked out of Spelman. Now she'd had to settle for being a 'plant scientist,' and though Commander Jensen had called her a 'genius,' Jacques knew that wasn't true. She'd been a B student at best, and something of a wild party animal on top of that. Drinks, drugs, and just the worst kinds of guys… she was hardly a serious person. Neither was Sena, he thought with a grin, but at least she made it work. Now Kay was here, a pleasant smile on her face; ready to sell out, with only selfishness beneath it all. She's found her way, alright. Chicks like her always did; she might be kinda smart, but he knew enough about her background. Kay never particularly needed scholarship money, or the patronizing 'woman in STEM,' diversity celebrations people were probably all too happy to shower her with. Now, surrounded by idiots, she was probably only ever getting 'affirmed'.

Having been left behind by Kay (and reassured that he didn't want to be around her anyway), Jacques went back to find Fred Wilson. This planet was very quiet. He too crept quietly back to the edge of the outcropping and, there still sitting and vine-draped, was their C&E companion, and there were two of the Sasabonsams by him, biting his leaves and regarding him curiously. And Fred was actually petting one, around where its roundish head met the squishier parts of its lower body. The creature growled, but it must've been a pleasant growl, as the creature was leaning into the fingers, and Fred was grinning. Jacques stayed a little distance away, and the man saw him, he whispered: "Look, they're just chillin'! They know we're friendly."

Jacques crept closer and crouched a few feet away. One of the creatures eyed him, then went back to biting, undeterred.

"Been callin' this one Sweetie, 'cuz it loves to get pet," Fred said of the one before him. "Y'wanna try, Jacques?"

"They're not dogs, Fred," said Jacques, but he was drawing closer anyway, eyes wide. Slowly, carefully he reached out. Sweetie snapped his middle finger into its mouth; Jacques tensed, but held firm. Then his finger was released—ouch, that fuckin' hurt—and he gave the creature a quick fingertip touch before drawing away.

"Nooo," said Fred in a cutesy sort of babying voice, "they ain't dogs, cause no dog would be as well-behaved as you, right Sweetie-pie?" Jacques cringed. The creature seemed more interested in the leaves than the man that held them.

In time the two aliens wandered off, in no apparent rush. They were at ease around Fred Wilson and Jacques Delende. Fred's eyes twinkled. "Amazing," he said. "Thought I'd be fixin' toilets n' starpanels these next two months, but now we're makin' friends with E.T. I… uh, I hope the Doc doesn't hurt any Asabos tryin' to get blood samples."

Jacques rolled his eyes. "She'll do whatever she has to," he said. He saw Fred avert his eyes. "…I mean, it'll be fine. She wouldn't wanna, like, kill 'em or anything."

Just then Makayla came back from around an especially large Thrascephemium crystal. "Sasabonsam muscle tissue, plant fibers from the… what should we name the plants?"

"How's about we name it after you, missy?" said Fred. "Farrisa vines, somethin' like that?"

"Doctor," she said, "alright, Farrisa kosmosi, unless you wanna veto, Jacques, since you saw it first."

"Fuck it," he said. "Go ahead, take the credit. I'm not the plant doctor." There's your big breakthrough, he thought. "Now let's go, we've been out here long enough." They all stood; Fred placed his vines gently over the crystal he'd taken them from. They three walked back towards their rover, Jacques in a hurry ahead. He took extra delicate care when crossing the scoping-ladder.

Re-compacted ladder in hand, Fred nodded at their pilot as the blue-suited man climbed up the rover's back ramp. "He's kinda, um… kind of a dick."

"He…" Kayla scrunched her lips. "He's known me for a while. Fred, I… I'm kind of a 'fly,' too, maybe more than him."

"But you went to Spelman," he said, "didn't you say he went to MIT?"

"Yeah, but that was a long way, for both of us. Opposites. His family's from down South, and I'm from…" She muttered lower: "…from, uhh, Connecticut."

"Connecticut? What's goin'—who the fuck's in Connecticut?" Fred chuckled, greatly amused but not unfriendly in his laughter.

Kayla's eyes were down. "Oh there's poor folks, and a few of us, too, but not much overlap. My dad's a lawyer in Hartford, got his own practice, and, uh, connections…"

"Wow," said Fred. "Welp, can't fault success, I'spose. Connecticut!" He snorted out another little laugh and started up the ramp.

Kayla followed him up and in, jaw set.

***

Cori Jensen whipped across the surface of Kepharon aboard an SH-3-083, a very small and quick-turning personal Scout Hovercraft about the size of a motorcycle. Lieutenant Manny Pérez was there along with her, as well as two of her Ensigns: Tammy Ellison, and a newbie named Dan Sacrimoni. All four were heading back for dinner; the SH-3s were running perfectly, and anyway, Cori was starving. She'd taken taken plenty of screeching hairpin turns, and even sent her craft off a high cliff—the way it cushioned itself after falls was amazingly foolproof, and she'd done everything she could to try to crash on the way down, landing thrusters-down with the bottom of its body flat to the wind, barrel-rolling and leaning to one side.

"No more exploring, Commander?" said Ellison. More so than tricks and 'stress tests,' that lady liked to see new things—to find things, like how Delende had found those plants underground, except on purpose.

Cori smirked and glanced at her wristwatch. "Thirty minutes for twelve klicks… spose we can spare a few, if you see anything interesting." Ellison swerved and darted ahead.

Lt. Pérez sighed. "Nothing wrong with being early, Commander. Better seats, our choice of company. Make a positive impression, set an example for the rest."

"Yeah," she replied, "but all these civvies are here to find stuff. Doin' that for 'em makes an even better one."

Jensen's starcomm buzzed to life, with the voice of Ellison: "Hey Commander, come look at this!" Jensen found her Ensign's bearing and changed course towards it; the other two followed.

The three came to the opening of a cavern: a wide, flat maw that gradually twisted as it bore down into the planet's rocky surface, as though the hole had formed around a curly plastic drinking-straw. Ellison was standing just before the entrance, and called out: "Probably shouldn't drive these things in there. Anybody got a light?"

Inside, the cave was pitch-dark. Then it was bathed in a bright, faintly blue light; Pérez turned and saw Commander Jensen holding a standard-issue flashlight aloft, its blue lens crisply whitened by the harsh glow from within. He rolled his eyes at her.

"Thought I saw somethin' moving," Ellison said. All four searched the dark corners of this cave, the seams of the rocks. "None of ours out here… maybe it was just a little rock slide…"

Pérez jumped. "There!" he cried, and ran down into the sloping cavern. His helmet had a small light of its own by the neckline, which he popped on, but it didn't do much. He'd seen something though, something crawling back into the shadows. Like a retracting tentacle of green slime…

"Huh, looks like someone's already found these things and logged them," said Sacrimoni, as he scrolled through his holotab. All four stood staring at a green alien with a hard round head and three eyes. "Lemme see if I can get this name right…"

***

Ensign Delende brought his rover back into the ICC's outdoor vehicle bay. The hour was 18 sharp when they dismounted: Kyle rechecking his crust scans, Fred and Kay lugging bio-sample canisters. And ahead of them, Jacques rubbing this morning's bruise on his back, and sore in other ways. Great, now I'm gonna be late for dinner, he thought, and Commander Jensen's gonna probably wanna go to Kay's 'Literature Club,' so there goes the evening.

And, speak of the devil, Kay shouted from behind: "Our Poetry Club's at 19:30! See ya there, Jacques?"

She watched him turn around, and mutter: "Sure." Then Jacques Delende marched on, faster than she and Fred were walking.

"Don't care who's 'a fly' or what, that boy's off-color," muttered Fred. "Seen rich kids with more sense."

"Nobody's got it easy," Kayla said. "C'mon, we gotta get these to my office…"

Her office was dark and fairly empty, with lots of locking cabinets in which to store samples. They waved goodbye to Kyle Savarin, who said he'd stay in his cubicle in E&R to process his geological data. Loads now lightened, the two went down the hall together. Makayla opened up her holotab and scrolled. "Oh," she said.

Fred glanced over. "What? What you lookin' at?"

She shut down the device; the flat rectangular hologram screen retracted into her wristwatch. "Nothing. Just E&R stuff."

"No, c'mon. You sounded upset." He winked. "Just 'cause I can't understand it, doesn't mean I don't wanna try."

Kayla frowned and reopened her holotab. She opened an interface, then spun the screen to face him. "They renamed them."

Fred looked closely at the page on her blue-glowing screen: there was a picture of one of the little green aliens, a Sasaboansam. The file was titled: Kepharonos branfordia —'Kepharine,' those being scientific and common names, respectively.

"What!?" Fred narrowed his eyes and scrolled the page—he'd never felt too comfortable with touchscreens, on account of his large fingers.

"Fred…"

"No, look, they put this in at 17:22… what time did you log our find? It was hours ago!" He was clearly dismayed, and his voice was getting louder, more excited. People around them spared covert glances.

"Hold on." Makayla frowned and grabbed his arm. She led him down an unexpected turn.

"Wha—where're we goin'? Mess' that way!"

"Just hold on a minute. Shh."

Fred was confused and irritated. They reached Kayla and her friends' suite; Livvy was inside working at a holocomputer on a desk facing the door. "Oh," she said, perking up at the two entrants. "Y'want me to leave?" Fred looked at both women squeamishly, and no less confused, though he smiled politely at Livvy.

Makayla rolled her eyes; she shut the door behind them, then opened a drawer and thrust her wristwatch into it. She held out an open, expectant hand towards Fred.

He tried to speak and found Makayla's other hand in his face, one pointer finger raised. A classic gesture of 'Shh'. He rolled his eyes and handed her his own watch, which she placed in the drawer, then shut them both away.

Kayla glanced at Livvy and took Fred aside into their little kitchenette. "Look, just… just don't make a fuss about this, alright?"

"About…" Fred narrowed his eyes at her. "What about 'first dibs'? I don't care 'bout 'credit,' but we named the things, not just you. They can't just—we could tell people, it's probably still in the records somewhere, and—and…"

"I'm not saying—" Kayla held her head. "Look, feel how you want about it. And don't forget… I won't. But keep it low for now. Your anger, just… just hang on to it, quietly. Someday we might have a use for it."

Fred Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose. "I've seen plenty a' shit. More, maybe… Connecticut. Pfft. Keepin' it down's what we've always done." He sighed. "'Course I won't make a scene, but… 'someday'… don't you go tryin'a sell me hope." He retrieved his watch from the drawer, shut it, then left and shut the door behind himself. His mouth a tight line, eyelids drooping over glassy eyes.

Kayla's shoulders sagged. Livvy came up slowly behind her and rested a gentle hand on one of those tired shoulders. "We'll figure something out," she said.

Makayla Farris sighed heavily. "We'll try. Let's go get dinner, you gotta eat sometime, right?"

Livvy smiled and walked over to the drawer which held their watches. "So… you get a chance to talk to Jacques?"

***

The food was still good, at least. Jacques was back with his own people: Dan Sacrimoni, and Ensign Will McDonough, Lieutenant Raif Carson, and the Commander and Lt. Pérez. As expected, Dan was giving Jacques all the shit he could, but it was the good, friendly kind of shit, about losing a bet and being stuck on rover duty, and crashing his SD in a cave somewhere, and anything else he could pile on. Pérez, who was a nice enough guy but kinda humorless, tried to cut in on Jacques behalf: "It was his first day using the Spaceflight Drone, Sacrimoni. He did very well considering the circumstances." Dan snickered.

Jacques smiled. "Nah, don't worry about it, Lieutenant. He's just jealous cause I got to do the escort jump."

"Oh, alright Jacky-boy," said Dan, "we'll see who gets out for more flying this weekend, huh?"

Commander Jensen returned with a fresh tray of food. That's her third, thought Jacques, and each plate held a mountain. No wonder she's built like a brick shithouse.

"Rover duty ain't sound so bad," said Jensen. "You got to spend time with that whiz kid, right? Dr. Farris?"

"Eh, yeah," said Jacques, and he grinned. "You guys heard about the aliens, right?" Many eyes were on him now, frightened and awed. "Oh, it's nothing—"

Attention Destiny crew, came a professional-sounding feminine voice from the loudspeaker. We at OCM have a very exciting announcement. One of our own researchers has discovered extraterrestrial life on Kepharon! There were gasps and shouts of wonder all around the mess hall; Jacques beamed.

We discovered plant life first, but that's not all… A large screen built into a white metal wall hanging from the room's reinforced-glass dome ceiling blinked on. Upon it, there came a short looping video of one of the aliens. Say hello to the Kepharines! Our very own Professor Munschloss of the Biology Department in Engineering and Research was first to discover them, and named them for this planet, our home-away-from-home.

Jacques frowned sharply. "Wait… that's not what we named them!"

"Looks like someone else got there first," said Dan. "Tough luck, champ."

"We went out pretty early," Jacques muttered bitterly to himself. I'll have to talk to Kay about this.

Time passed quickly for a man now preoccupied with a perceived injustice. At 19:25 he stood to leave, and didn't much regard the people who left with him. Only when out in the hall, and she trying to get his attention, did he really hear the words of his Commander: "Delende! You awake in there?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry Commander. What?" He looked back; Pérez was there behind him too, and Ellison and Carson.

"I was askin' about…" Cdr. Jensen leaned in to whisper: "About Dr. Farris up there. You've known her for years, andshe was in your rover today."

"Yeah," said Jacques. "So?"

"So… so… is she, uh, married or anything?"

Jacques narrowed his eyes at Cori Jensen. "What… do you, uh…" His eyes popped out, and he looked abruptly away.

Jensen grabbed his shoulder. "Oh, what, y'think that I—" She sighed. "Alright, fine, yeah. I think she's, uh… cool. Short hair, butch; I'm just another fuckin'… but what about—I mean, is she with anyone? Y'think she—"

"I don't know!" Jacques whispered a little too loudly; passerby and the others glanced at him, then tried to play it off. "I… I'm not sure. Guess we'll have to wait and see. But maybe it's lucky if she isn't, I mean, she—"

"Oh, don't gimme that—" Cori shook her head. "That's my business, what's good and what isn't. But, uh, thanks Delende. No reason to go spreadin' the word." She nodded at him.

Of course I wouldn't go telling people she's gay, he thought, even if it's, uh, kind of obvious. He never had a problem with lesbians; in a way, he felt a sort of kinship with them, sometimes he felt like he related to them even more than he did normal women. And it was the best sort of thing, that he wouldn't have to deal with Cori maybe being attracted to him, or whatever; better to just see her as a friend. Everything was easier that way, and he liked the Commander. As a person.

"So how'bout this Lit Club, huh?" asked Jensen. "They even offer English classes at M-I-T?"

"Yeah," he said, defensively, "I think Kay said it was about poetry. Hopefully it's not some stupid slam poetry shit…"

"What, Delende, scared you'll have to read in front of the class?"

"No… it's just… cringe, is all. Corny. What, were you an English Major? Liberal Arts?"

"Heh," she said. "Naw, I ain't smart enough for all that. Still, could be cool. Maybe Dr. Farris is a poet too, y'know, Renaissance Woman?" Cori smiled distantly.

Jacques shook his head, smiling. "I don't know about 'wife material'…"

Lt. Pérez cut in from behind, stepping up between them: "I must agree with the Commander, Delende. The Arts can have an ameliorating effect on a person's mental health. One must never allow… err…"

The Lieutenant fell nervously silent and slowed to behind them. Jacques glanced ahead; there was a happy-looking man approaching them from ahead, red-clad: a man who worked in Companionship. Amicably, he waved and addressed the group: "What a refreshing conversation! I'm glad to hear that Navigation and Steering takes Mental Health seriously. Commander Jensen! How are you doing today?"

"Hey-o," Jensen said, with the same professional smile. "Today's a great day. What's your name, mister?"

"Jerry Amblin, Counseling," said Jerry. He shook her hand with just the right amount of firmness. "Everything running smoothly for N&S?"

"Hah, ask Dacuma," she said. "He does all the work. But everything's running well for me, thanks. What's new with Counseling?"

"Not much work on a great day like this, and for a wellness Counselor that's a good sign. How about you two gentlemen, everything holding up well? Great days can be stressful, too."

Pérez nodded agreeably, and Jacques muttered: "Good. No thanks to this hotshot." He nodded at Cori and grinned.

Jerry flicked his eyes between them, Commander and Ensign, and for a moment looked a little confused. In time his smile returned. "A-hah," he said. "I'm told she's the best in the business. She's not causing any real problems though, right?"

"No, what…" Jacques cocked his head. "Nah, I'm just messing around. She literally saved my life this morning."

Jerry's eyes widened. "Oh, nothing too serious, I hope?"

"Nah, I'm all good. Lieutenant Pérez here gave me all sorts of check-ups, believe me."

"Oh, well… our mission is not without its dangers. Please remember, Ensign: Safety First. And if there's anything you need to talk about, don't be a stranger." Jerry Amblin smiled and shook Jacques' hand also.

Cori eyed Jacques, still smiling. With a start she said: "Welp, better get back to it! Have a good, uh, night Mr. Amblin. Might have to take you up on that offer for counseling, with what these knuckleheads put me through." She puffed out a hearty laugh.

"Any time," said the man. The other pilots smiled at him as they swerved around each other.

"Counseling's free, right?" said Jacques. He looked back. "Shit, my sister's got a therapist. Maybe I should…"

"Y'really saw those aliens out there, Delende?" Jensen asked. "What were they like? Seem dangerous?"

"What, I—" He frowned. "Eh. They're pretty small. Got sharp teeth, but not big enough to do much. And they don't seem like predators… think they suck the juices out of those purple plants we saw."

From behind them, Ensign Ellison said: "Ooh. Wonder what they taste like."

"They're highly radioactive, Ensign," Pérez said flatly. Jacques chuckled.

***

The group of N&S pilots reached room 168B, a large conference room in some obscure corner of the complex's ground floor, with two large tables, a podium and presentation screen, and four little meeting rooms branching off from it. The engineer guy, Choi, stood just inside holding out an empty tray. From behind him came the loud and friendly voice of Kay Farris: "Hey guys! Welcome to Slam Poetry Club!" Jacques groaned and rolled his eyes.

Kay didn't seem to notice, and continued: "This is a perfect chance to socialize… in The Real World. Like the good old days… maybe you've heard about it? Talking without a starcomm or the internet? We're even gonna write our poems on paper. And that means no holobands. For the sake of Wellness, it's a total digital detox!" She smiled and nodded at Choi's tray.

Sighing, Jacques removed his holoband—it was alike to a digital wristwatch, with a screen of its own, and could pop out a holotab for more serious uses—and the others of N&S did the same, though one was hesitant. "What if I receive an important memo?" Pérez asked.

"Livvy and I got this special drawer for them," said Choi, "soundproof, but it'll display important messages. Plus the meeting's only two hours, and it's already late. Doubt you'll be getting anything that important."

With a sigh, Pérez relented, and Choi shut four more bands into a sophisticated looking drawer, which had a plastiglass panel at the top to see inside. Jacques looked around the room: there were a few other people from E&R, as well as Fred Wilson from the rover and a woman who seemed to also be from C&E. And now, four pilots from N&S. He noticed that Cdr. Jensen had taken Kay aside and was whispering something to her; he drew closer to overhead.

"—quiet in here," said Jensen. "And… the cameras?"

Kay looked around, and whispered back: "…Out. It's, uh… we've got privacy." She met Cori's eyes once, then started away.

Jacques eyed her suspiciously; Jensen noticed this, took him by the shoulder, and called out to Kay: "Doctor Farris! Can Jacques and I use one of these rooms for a minute?"

Kay nodded. She met his eyes as well.

Jacques frowned at Jensen as she led him away. "—our holobands and the cameras? Commander, what's—"

"Hang on," she muttered. They got inside; Jensen shut the aluminum-framed glass door slowly.

Jacques shook his head. He hissed: "What's going on here? What's she up to, what's—"

"Hold that thought. I—I don't know, but…" Jensen met his eyes. "Delende, there's plenty'a good doctors in E&R. Plus we've got Pérez, he's pretty good with that stuff. And you know you can talk to us; Manny and I, and your friends in there, and Tammy's nice."

"Yeah, I… what? We all saw that I'm good, it's just a couple bruises. What are you talking about?"

"Jacques," she said, and her words were firm, like orders: "Don't talk to Companionship. Ever. Put on whatever show you've gotta, but don't actually tell themthings."

"What?" He was confused. "What, just because they're a different department? We're all just coworkers, Commander."

"Not 'just,' they're…" She frowned at the floor. "Buncha fuckin' traitors, smilin' friendly when they don't hardly give a shit, at best. That smile… it'slike there's nothin' behind the eyes!"

"Oh… fake? Of course they're bullshitters, Commander, but everyone's fucking fake! What about Kay in there, y'think she—"

"Delende. Maybe you know'er better than I do, but I don't think it's the same. You don't wanna be friends with Dr. Farris that's your business, but I'm tellin' ya. Companionship can't be your friend… heh, it's like: 'Any man who's gotta call himself a king,' or whatever."

"Oh, alright," he said. He thought: Eh, guess she's right there. Gotta be careful 'round corporate bitches, and Companionship's swarmin' with 'em. "I'm not an idiot. But don't come crying to me when that botanist out there starts talking about some magic Wellness herb, or essential oils or whatever the fuck."

"Heh," said Cori. "Yeah, that'd be the end of that crush, tell ya what. One whiff a' Pyramid Scheme and wshh—" She swept with her hand. "It's dry as the Sahara."

Jacques began to chuckle, then doubled over laughing. Cori laughed along with him for several joyous seconds. When the laughter faded, and Jacques wiped away a happy tear, he said: "Um, I'm just glad you're good, Commander. Like, a decent person, and cool and stuff. Not that it's such a surprise, from what I've heard, but—"

"Oh? What'd you hear?" She grinned, and so did he. "Eh, tell me later. Looks like we're getting started out there."

A few more people had trickled in, and all were sitting attentively, or mumbling amongst themselves. Makayla Farris was standing at the podium, and cleared her throat to speak as soon as Jacques and Cori took seats at one of the tables: "Welcome everyone, to our Slam Poetry Club. My name is Makayla Farris, and I'm so excited to get to know each one of you. But that takes time; we'll have a meeting at the same time, 7:30PM, or 1930 for you military types, right in this room, 168B, every Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday. I hope you'll all come as often as you can."

She shuffled some papers on the podium. "Alright, the schedule. Every night we'll have fifteen minutes for announcements like this. Then at 19:45, we'll have an hour for our Poetry workshop. You'll get a little prompt, then you'll have forty minutes to brainstorm, write, revise and perfect your poem. We'll split off into the smaller rooms, too, so people can bounce ideas off each other or solicit outside opinions for revision. But that's not all; Art is meant to be shared. From 20:25 to 20:45, we'll choose some poets to present their works. Length dependent, but we'll try to let at least three people share aloud. After that, the last forty-five minutes are for Socializing—a Mixer, and we'll have our refreshments. It is absolutely mandatory that all attendants stay for snacks and talking to people. Also, we have the room all night, so stay 'til curfew if you want." She grinned. "Only the first forty-five minutes of Actually Talking to People In Real Life are mandatory, then you can go back to 'doomscrolling'." There were chuckles, and Jacques followed Kay's eyes to Livvy, who blushed.

"We don't wish to force anything on you—this is a safe space, and leave whenever you want—but if you can't respect the people here, or the delicacy required as we share artistic vulnerability, we'll be happy to ask you to leave."

Kay looked up; there was an old analog clock on the wall above the room's main door. "19:43. Perfect." She glanced down at a sheet of paper, then back up to the people. "As lovely as poetry can be, I know some of us might be… rusty. Or even… affected, by a certain societal distaste for the art form. Today we wish to leave things open, and break the proverbial ice. Today's theme is 'Humorous,' and there are no other constraints. Write a funny poem! It can be a sentence long or six pages, carefully metered or a jumble of words—satirical, or completely stupid. You have forty minutes. This sheet up on the podium here has your room assignments, and there'll be papers and pens and water bottles inside. Alright, it's 19:45… go!" She took one last look at a sheet of paper there, then took the rest with her as she departed for one of the smaller rooms.

There was a brief moment of awkward silence. Then Fred, and Cori, and Kevin and some of the other E&R people, and eventually Jacques and all the rest stood and crowded around the podium. There were murmurs as people sorted out their own assigned room or asked for the same from someone with a better view. That guy Kyle from the rover was here too; he seemed about as…awkward as Jacques himself felt at the moment. He smiled weakly at Jacques, who forced a smile back. I still can't see the paper, though…

"Room three," Livvy said over the crowd. "It's me, Carson, Suarez, and… Delende." She smiled. "Let's go, you three!" She waved and walked towards the second door from the right.

"Uh, excuse me, McNally," said Raif Carson (he was the second inside after her, and Jacques was last), "where's the restroom?"

"Oh," said Livvy, "there's one in here, that door by Room One. One person, all-gender. If that's occupied, there's bigger ones left and down the hall… you'll see the signs." Carson left.

This table was big enough for six, but had only four chairs around it. Livvy placed a pen and a sheet of paper at each place around the table, then made for the door, saying: "Forgot water. I'll get four, but there's plenty in the fridge whenever you want." She stepped out.

Jacques sat and stared at a blank sheet of printer paper.Poetry… ugh. He looked up at the stockish C&E woman sitting across from him, 'Suarez'. "Hey," he said. "I'm Jacques. Ensign Jacques Delende, Pilot. How'd, uhh… how'd you meet these people?"

"That Asian guy barged into Maintenance lookin' to get his order through faster," she said. "Oh, I'm Dani. Maintenance." She tapped her own blank sheet of paper with the back of her pen. "D'you know anything about poetry?"

"Not really. I, uhh, I'm just here I guess. My Commander wanted to try this out, and I've known Kay… err, Dr. Farris for a while too."

"Hmph. Yeah, you two are the same sorta people, I guess."

Jacques frowned. "Wha—huh?"

She scoffed at him. "Hah! No, not like… you're both stuck-up academics. Nah, nah, I figure Wilson in there's got more in common with me than either of you. Eh, takes all stripes I 'spose…"

Oh. "Well… why did you come, then? I mean, Kevin's an 'academic' too, and it sounds like you like poetry less than I do."

Dani wagged a finger at him. "Not all academics are stuck-up. Heh. I wasn't gonna, but I heard Fred trying to drum up support with the guys, and nobody was biting. Couldn't stand to see him flounder like that. Like a little puppy dog with no legs."

Livvy came back inside, and said: "Hey, you know Fred? Oh, that's perfect!" She pointed at one of four very blank sheets of paper. "You should make a silly poem about him!" She set about placing plastic water bottles beside each paper.

"See," Dani said to Jacques, pointing at Livvy with a thumb. "Not all bad." She shrugged. "Eh, won't be much of a poem, but…" She gnawed the butt end of her pen and searched the ceiling, then cracked a smile and began to write.

"How about you, Jacques Delende?" said Livvy, as she sat. "What's your poem gonna be about?"

"I…" He had no idea. He'd done his time as 'the funny friend,' for a little while, but had since then lost the spark. And anyway, trying to come up with a joke on demand was about the most impossible thing a person could be asked to do. 'Tell me a joke, funny man.' Jacques slapped his pen down. "I dunno. We've got like, half an hour, right? I'll think of something, just lemme alone."

Livvy McNally leaned forward. "Hey. Take all the time you need, but… it's not that deep. We're all just messing around today, I'm sure if you wrote one line that said 'Poetry is stupid shit, fuck you Kayla,' that'd be the best poem of the night." She smirked.

"I know," said Jacques. "I don't really care, it's just… I'm here to, like, fly spaceships. I didn't think we'd be writing."

Ms. McNally scratched her chin. "Oh, I've got it! You will be presenting tonight, Jacques. There, now you won't have to worry and whinge to yourself about how presenting is scary, or how you might get out of it. I'm a Founder, I have veto power! You're gonna say your poem in front of everyone; accept it and get to work." She thumped on his paper with her pointer finger several times.

Jacques scowled and glared at the page. Oh, thinks she's funny, huh? He could just leave whenever he wanted to. But that's pussy shit, and how'll that look? He could just write something stupid, get it over with, have, like… a back-up, a placeholder in case he didn't think of anything really good. Slowly, he reached down towards the paper with the tip of his pen. Mind blank.

"Hyeh!" said Livvy. She reached over the table with her own pen and scrawled, upside-down from her perspective and in handwriting appropriately awful: LIVVYS MAKING ME PREZENT IM SHY :,(

"Hey!" said Jacques.

Dani, looking down at her paper and writing, popped a puff of air out the side of her mouth, and muttered: "Gotta write a poem about him next Funny Poem Night."

Jacques clicked his tongue and glared at Livvy. "What'd you do that for!?"

She tilted her chin up at him, smirking slyly. "These sheets of paper are so white. It's overwhelming; I had to give yours some mess so you wouldn't feel bad messing it up with your own shitty poem. 'Can't let Perfection get in the way of Doing'." She set upon her own paper now; Jacques noticed she was doodling: a characteristic set of six little lines, two sets of parallel threes, one above the other. To make 'The S'.

***

Kyle Savarin still seemed confused. "Okay, I've heard about 'folding space,' but like, where actually were we for all those hours we were in hyperlight?"

The Commander, Cori Jensen, set down her pen and piped in: "Look, Savarin, the whole thing with spacetime is that we weren't anywhere, not in the usual sense. It's like… in hyperlight, time seems like it's passing, but we're not gaining any time in the same sense, 'cause time doesn't really apply to us. So, in the same sorta way, we weren't in space, 'cause we were moving through a place outside'a space."

Kevin Choi shook his head. She's done at least five hyperlight jumps, he thought. How does she still not really get it? Ah well, guess millions of people drive cars every day without understanding internal combustion engines. "No," he said. "The speed of light and spacetime are linked… even in a vacuum!" His paper, which once was meant to contain a silly poem, was now a mess of little diagrams and simplified equations. "The Bhandari Curves are about mapping the break points! When the hyper-engine first shatters the lightspeed barrier, the ship doesn't 'leave spacetime,' it exists at several points within it. We're in a spacetime superposition, but it seems like we're moving for hours because the quasimatter has to resolve that uncertainty for each spin across the shield's membrane, for every atom."

For the first time any of the other three had heard in their little writing group, Fred Wilson decided to speak, in a mutter: "Right. Can we stop talkin' this quantum shit and have some quiet? I'm tryin' to think here."

Kevin shook his head, but fell silent. Could take hours until this all clicks for this Savarin guy. Fred's keeping us focused on the task at hand, at least. He flipped his paper over. 'Funny,'huh… He wondered how much Kayla had been able to put together this afternoon, club rules and 'poetry prompts' and whatever else. A little too much of this whole situation was being figured out on the fly for his liking. But we have to be able to adapt, he thought. Well, he could do 'Funny'…

Commander Jensen leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "You young folks gotta learn how to prioritize," she said. "Finish your dirty limericks there and then get into your theoretical whatever debates."

She was watching Kevin; he felt the heat of her eyes. He glanced up once, then sighed and put down his pen. "What?"

"Huh?" said Jensen. "Oh, uh, sorry Chway. Don't let me distract you."

"No, what is it?" he said. "I'm not… it's alright. We have like twenty minutes. You got a poetry question?"

"Alright, uh…" The front legs of Cori's chair came clunking heavily back down to the floor, and she leaned over the table. "You know Dr. Farris pretty well, right? It's about getting to know people, like she said…"

"Yeah?" said Kevin. "I mean, yeah, I know Kayla well enough. Why?"

Jensen looked nervous. "Yeah, well… what's up with her? I mean, her reasons for being here… does she get paid well? She got a good home life back on Earth, good family? And what's her husband like?"

"Well she's—" Kevin snorted. "She's single."

Cori's were not the only eyes that raised; she said: "Well… that's good—I mean, that's too bad. Or, surprising, uh… whatever. But what about those other questions I was askin'? What's she, uh, after, y'know what I mean?"

Kevin averted his eyes and set his jaw. "Her home life…" He smiled. "She's had a decent life I guess. Had enough stuff growing up, great education. I think she, uh, kinda reinvented herself pretty recently. Long as I've known her, she's always been like this. Smart, and friendly; excited to meet new people. Think that's what she's after, y'know: doing good stuff."

And Cori Jensen muttered: "That's what everyone's after, heh…"

***

An old-fashioned kitchen timer on a nearby counter clicked, and then started ringing and buzzing and clattering along the plastic surface. The commotion made Jacques jump; he'd been slouching in his seat, arms crossed. His poem was already finished, the paper now was folded once in half and held close to his torso in one hand. Still marked with Livvy's scrawled mockery.

"Alright!" said Livvy, "hope you're all ready to present." She hopped up and winked at Jacques as she slipped out into the common room.

Lieutenant Carson eyed him. "Feels like fuckin' kindergarten," he muttered.

"It's all a bunch of bullshit," Jacques agreed, as he settled back into his chair. "…I mean, we're just here to do our jobs. Who'd want to join a poetry club anyway?"

The Lieutenant nodded. "We're just here cause the Commander—" He glanced at Dani Suarez very briefly, "…'cause Commander Jensen thinks The Founders are 'the right kinda people'."

"Hah!" said Suarez. "One of them, y'mean…"

Carson sighed and looked up at her. "…Well, she is pretty. Uh, Doctor Farris. Kinda gives me the willies though… no one could possibly be that happy all the time."

Jacques leaned forwards in his seat as he exclaimed: "Exactly!" He raised both hands, his poem-paper clutched in one of them. He lowered his voice, to say: "She's up to something. Couldn't say what, but…"

"Ain't either of you dipshits worked Customer Service?" asked Suarez. "Or, I dunno, watched a press conference? The news? It's called charisma, duh. You get paid more if you smile for the cameras."

Jacques frowned. "No, that's not… this is supposed to be a friendly little lit club, right? Who's she performing for?"

Suarez pointed with one finger. "Everyone's got a different way of dealin' with nerves. Some people smile all polite, some people crack jokes, and I guess some guys get all bitter and start pickin' at harmless shit." She frowned at them.

Jacques leaned back, crossed his arms and smiled smugly. "Oh, alright. Real funny about the Commander's little crush, huh? Puttin' Kay Farris on some pedestal? Maybe we should ask her the same question, see how angry she'd get when we tarnish her Maiden Honor…"

Lt. Carson winced awkwardly. Dani Suarez sputtered, blushing. Jacques continued to grin.

Livvy came back, and the Room 3 group joined the others around the tables of the center room. As they sat, Suarez shoved Jacques. "Don't tell 'er…" she muttered.

Jacques shrugged. 'Course not, he thought. His ribbing was all in good fun; it wasn't that deep.

Suarez grinned deviously. "…and I won't spill to that white chick, the annoying one."

He frowned and looked away.

Kay stood at the podium once more, projected her voice: "Welcome back everyone! It's so exciting to bounce ideas off each other, right? I hope it wasn't too awkward, writing poems together… like I said, today is about keeping things light. I would say we aren't expecting Shakespeare, but even The Bard himself was known to be a bit of a mischievous ne'er-do-well…"

The crowd was very quiet.

"…well, anyway, what we really want is for you to express yourselves. To express something true, and what's truer than a joke? But this is a difficult time, for all of us: first meetings, and the first careful steps outside our comfort zones. If someone here is already your friend, honest one-on-one feedback is fine, but no heckling, and everyone deserves praise. It takes bravery, yes, bravery to make that first little step. Without further ado, my friend Livvy McNally has created an algorithm to select our Poetic Orators, so… here's Livvy!" Excitedly, Kay led applause as Livvy crept up from her seat and to the podium.

Jacques groaned. I'm fucked, he thought. He clutched his folded, crumpled paper close.

"Alright peeps," said Livvy, "lemme see here… can I get a countdown? From three…" She held one ready pointer finger a few inches above an older sort of touchscreen; one made of black glass and plastic, metal and silicon circuits rather than solid, bluish hologram.

Some of the others joined her, saying: "Three, two… one!" then Livvy pressed the button. "Aha!" she said (Jacques closed his eyes and winced), "Kyle Savarin! Come on up Kyle."

Oh great, she's gonna make me wait 'til last. Jacques checked the analog clock up behind him: 20:29. Maybe Savarin's poem will be fifteen minutes long? A whole Funny Story? The man hurried up with a look that said—or even hoped, as though he hadn't written the poem himself just now—the opposite.

"Ahem," said Kyle. "Yes, alright, let me see here…" He unfurled his paper (crumpled, folded more than twice), cleared his throat again, darted his eyes at the crowd, and delivered it message:

What luck, what fortune, Kepharon?

What secrets she unlocks?

As a Mineral Geologist,

I can say this planet, uh, rocks.

He laughed nervously. People coughed.

Dani Suarez snorted. "Oh, that's terrible…"

Another man in C&E livery (neither Fred nor Suarez) sat up and looked around. "What? I don't get it." Raif Carson leaned in and whispered to him. "Oh!" the man said. "Haha, that's a good one."

There was a quick patter of applause from a lone pair of hands. Kay Farris smiled. "Aha, well done Kyle! Here's a man who understood the assignment. Very good, thank you. Leave your paper there, we'll put it up on the wall so we can laugh about it later."

Kyle waved to the crowd once, quickly with his eyes down, and then hurried off the podium. Livvy returned. 20:31—Argh!

"Another countdown, if you may…" A few others joined with Livvy as she said: "Three, two, one!" and she hit the button once again. "Oh, okay! From N&S, our very own Commander Jensen!"

Jacques and all the other N&Sers smiled and applauded as Jensen tromped up to face the crowd and slapped her paper down. "Alright, alright," she said, swaying, grinning and fanning the air down with both hands; the crowd quieted, and she scratched her head with one finger. "I don't really got the, uh… well I don't usually do much joke writing, but here goes…" She looked down once, then up again, and told it:

Y'hear the one about the xenobotanist?

Gets to live on an alien planet, and all she can talk about is 'leaving'!

Jacques heard Lt. Pérez stifle a laugh. Jacques grinned too; he found these words very amusing, though maybe not for the reason Jensen intended. Got something on your mind, ey Commander? Not much of a poem, though… but hey, looks like she's gonna keep going…

"Thought that was alright, but then I got a look at Chway's sheet there, and he had all the rhymes, and songy stuff, so here…"

…you can live on an alien planet,

or just visit for a bit, or crash here.

But one thing's for sure,

if you're gonna last here,

on Kepharon, P-3-14,

ya gotta make friends with some decent people,

do your damn job… when people are looking,

and keep everyone safe,

'Cuz Earth, the lady, protector and home, gone backwards: is far,

Mm-kay?

Jensen looked around nervously. "…oh, but I forgot the punchline… anybody got a pen?"

Kay started: "Cori, you can just—" But was cut off when Carson tossed one up; Jensen caught it and began scribbling.

"Alright, it's… lemme run it back: mm-mm, mm mm-mm, protector and home, da da da, is far,

Mm-kay,"

But people's home wherever you are,

…and if it's just me and you assholes—no way I stay!

She looked up from the page grinning, and people did laugh along. Carson groaned: "Haha, alright!" and was laughing heartily.

Of course, the poem was a little sentimental—a little schmaltzy—and people seemed to be affected by that too. Pleasant enough… not really so refined though. Jacques smiled. Didn't need to be 'refined' to be good, and that was basically Cdr. Jensen's 'M.O.'.

He glanced up at the clock: 20:38. Shit! There were still nearly ten minutes left for Poem #3, and that was certain to be his. Maybe Livvy was just joking?She wouldn't actually rig the algorithm to make me go, right? …augh, of course she would! 'Get me out of my comfort zone'! Kay probably encouraged it, and this is all her scheme, to mess with me or something.

Livvy McNally was back on the podium, ready with her old-fashioned tablet. "Alright," she said, "Looks like we've got time for one more. Countdown, anyone?"

Everyone was ready, and in better spirits now (save Jacques). "….three, two, one!"

Ensign Delende winced and hissed.

"…Ran—Randy Porter!" shouted Livvy. And everyone cheered.

Jacques sighed heavily, then frowned at her. She was, of course, looking back at him and grinning.

Fred, Dani Suarez and Kevin muttered words of encouragement to Randy Porter, a nervous, lanky man with short brown hair in C&E uniform (the one who hadn't 'gotten' Kyle's poem earlier), as Randy took the podium.

"Y-y-yes, well, here goes… should I really say this?"

Kevin clapped and shouted, smiling: "You got this, Randy!"

"O-okay." Randy Porter adjusted the neckline of his suit (he wore the indoor suit, with its diagonal flap across the chest and more C&E orange than white or gray) and cleared his throat profusely, started:

At C&E all day,

Why does the time always rush away?

I'm just sitting there doing not much of anything.

I figured it out.

Time itself is… ahem, is screwing us.

Speeding things up while it drags things out,

So the days are too long to bear, and too short to remember.

But that isn't funny, so: why?

Because T-Time isn't sure if you're happy or cried,

Maybe when it found out you'll have already died,

And it hasn't the time to decide.

Jacques looked around the room and found a bunch of people just as flummoxed as he was looking back. Then a slow clap began, and he traced it back to Kay Farris. She seemed happy, at least. Nobody's laughing, though. This guy's kinda weird.

"Well done!" said Kevin. "Have you written much poetry before, Randy?"

He was making for his seat. "Uh, no, not really. I just, uh, saw sorta what everyone else was doing and tried that."

Kay stood and returned to the podium. "There's a point to remember: all we gotta do here is give things a good honest try. Three excellent poems, and brief today! No harm in that I guess, we'll have a little extra time to socialize. First, a few final announcements. As you may have heard, we meet three nights a week: Sunday, Wednesday, Friday, same time same place. You don't need to come to every meeting, and we aren't doing 'dues' yet, but we hope you'll each come as often as you can. If you want a little teaser for our Sunday Night Meeting, the plan is to write poems about Relationships. That can be romantic, if you want, but it doesn't have to be. There are many ways to understand The Ties That Bind Us. So if you wanna brainstorm over the weekend, if that helps you, go ahead. We might have some other conditions to add to encourage your creativity at time of."

"Oh," she said, "and one last thing: each one of you has been invited personally by one of us founders; Myself (Dr. Farris), Miss Olivia McNally down front, and Mr. Kevin Choi over in the corner there. You've been chosen because you're just the sorts of poets we're looking for, each and every one of you. Most people would be bored by something like this, if you can believe it. But we like our little secret club, and are happy to keep it small—quality over quantity. So if you want to invite someone, ask one of us first, please. Maybe once we all get to know each other better, we'll promote some other leaders." Jacques looked to Cori, who was deep in thought. Her brows scrunched; she seemed about as disconcerted as he was.

"Alright! That's it, and we're still early. Kevin's getting the refreshments, and ope, here he comes now! Please stay as long as you like. Share the poems that weren't presented, or the latest gossip, or your other favorite hobbies. Or just sit and eat in silence; together is the key, no matter what you're doing. I hope to get the chance to speak with each and every one of you. Okay, break! Thanks for coming, everybody." She waved to the scattered applause of her audience.

Most people made for the counter where Kevin and another E&R employee Jacques didn't know were depositing trays of little desserts and bottles of soft drinks. He noticed Livvy cutting through the crowd towards him, and (scowling) caught her gaze. "Thought you promised I'd present." he said.

"Oh, sure," she replied. "But I wouldn't force you to present in front of everyone. That'd be mean, to rig the selection algorithm like that. Would rob other people of the fair chance to express themselves to a willing audience. I was thinking you'd present to me, right now. We could go into one of the other rooms, get some privacy, y'know, so you wouldn't be all nervous…"

"I, um…" She's trying to get me alone. "Maybe some other time. I gotta talk to Kay."

"I'll hold you to that!" Livvy called after him. She held a pleasant smile for a while after he'd brushed her aside. Then, refreshments.

Kay was talking to the weird C&E guy, Randy. Jacques tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey Kay," he said. "Can I, uh, talk to you for a minute?"

She gave him the old side-eye. "Oh. Sure, Jacques. Randy, this is Ensign Jacques Delende, he works with the Commander." The men exchanged an awkward little wave. "Alright, C'mon Jacques." She nodded towards an empty anteroom; they went.

"So what exactly is your—"

Kay cut him off. "Hold on. I wanted to talk to you as well. Jacques, all you N&S people did really well today. I was wondering if you knew anyone else there who might be, uh, interested in poetry."

Jacques rolled his eyes. "Listen… poetry, ugh, I know that's not all this is. What exactly's the goal here? We doing human sacrifices for the sixth meeting?"

"It's about… a friend group," Kay said. "Wouldn't you rather be… discerning? Have a space where we know people won't be shitty? Where we can just be, y'know, where you have a good idea who it's 'for and by'?"

"But I don't know what it's for. There's something you aren't telling me. You aren't selling shit, you aren't even asking for a club fee… and why this much secrecy? You start a Social Justice Club, I'm sure you'll have your 'Safe Space,' slam poetry and all." He scoffed.

"Hah," she said, "nah, you'd be surprised. Especially if Companionship ran it."

"Oh, you're telling me. But they're just people, even if they're shills… and now you've got Commander Jensen playing secret club too, and you turned the cameras off? Whatever you're doing better not be trouble."

"She likes it," said Kay. "That poem she wrote, suppose she sees the vision well enough." She raised an eyebrow. "…better than most, maybe."

"Oh—hah! Yeah, she just doesn't see through it yet. Wearin' some kinda goggles… her poem? Did you really get it, Kay?"

Kay smirked. "She's got a funny-bone, I'll give her that. But I like that sorta sentimental stuff. Maybe she's got a heart of gold under all that gruff shit-talking."

"Oh, heart, yeah…" Jacques snickered.

"What, what are you on about? Don't tell me you're stringing her along, your boss. Or, shit, is she stringing you along?"

"Oh, come on! 'Lady, protector, and home'? 'Gone backwards: is far, Mm-kay'? And she calls you a genius, fuckin'… think about it."

"What, you think she's like, scared? Homesick? She just cares about people. About what's really important, that's—"

"Backwards," said Jacques. He gave his voice a high pitched, and somewhat silly rumbling growl: "Mm-Kay, Far is? HmmmMMM?"

Kay squinted. "Wait… oh shit, you serious?"

"I mean, isn't it obvious?" He smirked.

"Y'think she's, uhh… just women?" Kay asked. Jacques followed her very brief glance out the room's transparent door.

"Look, I don't think she'd care if you were a—" Jacques realized what she'd glanced at—who: Fred Wilson from C&E. "…Hold on. Damn!" He grinned with glee. "You're into some freaky shit!"

"Shh! Just—nevermind! I'll talk to Cori, or… no, you tell'er… just tell her I'm taken."

Jacques laughed and laughed. "Alright, alright," he said, fighting tears, "just remind me to stay away from your room at night…"

Kay didn't seem to enjoy the fact that she, too, was smiling, nearly laughing. A real smile this time. "Get out, doofus!" She shoved him towards the door.

"Doofus?" He stumbled out the door, teeth flashing a knowing grin. "Nah, you're just mad I figured out your little plan, weirdo. Togetherness! Peace, man, and free love!"

The others out in the main room stared at him awkwardly; he calmed himself down and made for a tray of cookies.

"Ensign Delende," said Pérez. "Is everything okay with you and Doctor Farris?"

"Yeah," he said. "Oh yeah, we were just playin'."

Cdr. Jensen came up behind both of them, plowed through. "This poor kid was just defending himself, Manny. You'd understand if you had a big sister." She snorted. "Delende, that McNally chick asked me to ask you something before she went off back to her bunk."

"Huh?" Oh, Livvy. "What'd she say?"

"Well… really she was asking me if there was anyone else in N&S who might be suitable for this club here. But seeing as… well, you know Dr. Farris well enough, so I figured you'd have a better answer there."

Jacques frowned. "I dunno. Peters? I was thinking about inviting Dan, too… Ensign Sacrimoni, I mean. He's smart."

"Okay…" Jensen leaned in closer. "Look, Delende, I think the criteria here are pretty specific. More about 'people smart' than 'book smart,' else I wouldn't be here. And, uhh, nurturing types, maybe. But sharp."

Jacques rubbed his chin. "Have you met Lt. Jackson?" he said.

"Oh… Quinn Jackson, up on the bridge? I know of him, but he mostly works with the Captain, I think. You sure?"

Jacques smirked. "Well, I met her at orientation, and… yeah. I don't know, I just… yeah. I'd bet on it."

Jensen huffed and waved a hand. "What kinda name's Quinn anyway? Alright, I'll tell Chway. Now…" She whispered. "How about the Doc? What's her angle on things, you know, what side a' the plate's she hit from?"

"I don't—haha, it's Choi. Not 'Chway'."

"Huh? Like… Shwei?"

Jacques shook his head. "Nevermind. Now about Kay…"

"Hup, let's talk later," said Jensen. Fred, Kay, Kevin, and Lt. Carson had just emerged from one of the other rooms. The Commander patted Jacques on the shoulder and headed towards Kevin, gently shoving through the crowd like a lean bulldozer, and all the way he could hear her muttering attempts at Korean surname pronunciation.

He watched Kay go back inside with Suarez. Urgh, he thought. I got so distracted by her polycule shit, I didn't even get anything outta her. He looked around; Pérez was now talking to Ellison and the Savarin guy. In fact, just about everyone seemed to be involved in one conversation or another. He chomped up the last cookie from his little paper plate, munched thoughtfully. The clock said 20:49. I got all the time in the world to talk to these fools, he thought. Maybe I gotta surprise Kay to get some answers out of her, or… She was absolutely up to something. He wasn't gonna wait around to get drawn into her web before he found out what. Not lookin' to smile and play along when she does bring out the Essential Oils. For now, he'd had refreshment and annoyance enough. He waved goodbye to Pérez and walked out the door.

Heavy footsteps clomped behind him. Jacques turned and Fred Wilson was following him; a large man of about mid-height (so, slightly shorter than Jacques) with a short, curly 'M' of black hair and a goatee of similar length. Jacques cocked his head; the man was clearly coming for him. But Fred's a decent guy.

"Hey, Delende!" he said. "You leavin' already?"

Jacques stopped. "Eh, need sleep. I got shit to do tomorrow."

"Saturday?"

"Yeah. Lost a bet with Cdr. Jensen, so now I'm stuck doing her weekend shit. Sounds like it's a bunch of paperwork." He sighed.

"Oh. Hey, it's only like 9. When's she havin' you get up for it?"

Jacques rolled his eyes. "I need some alone time, alright?" He muttered: "Don't give a fuck about this poetry shit, anyway…" and continued along the corridor.

Fred followed. "Oke, that's… huh? Why're you like this, man? Who hurt you?"

"It's stupid," said Jacques. "Or, sorry, are you a poet? Gotta say I wouldn't know it."

"No. But it ain't so bad. And it's nice, y'know, nice people, all the departments together. Better'n sittin' alone on that cell phone all night."

Jacques twisted to walk backwards for a moment. "There are some 'nice people'. And a couple fake-ass charlatans, or at least one."

"Huh? Who's fake?"

"Kay! You really believe she's just that la-dee-da all the time? She's a fuckin' kiss-ass, bad as any of those dolled-up crocodiles from Companionship." He shook his head. "Bitches, man."

Fred hurried up past Jacques, stopped and frowned. "Jacques. Don't be sayin' stuff like that. 'Bitches'. It's hurtful."

Jacques narrowed his eyes and scoffed. "Huh?—it's the truth! She's movin' all fake and shit. Puttin' on a show of bein' 'nice,' when she's really just tryin' to use people, for… for somethin'. Who knows what kinda fuckshit she's tryin' to sell us? If sayin' that's 'hurtful,' that's on her for bein' a bitch!"

"Then say that, not 'bitches'. Shit's hurtful to you, bokk. Showin' women you're no good, then if they got any self-respect they keep their distance—guys who care too, and then what? Who you left with?"

Jacques frowned more substantially now; his voice rose. "Oh, so her conniving shit's my fault now, 's'that it? You're what, forty?"

Fred Wilson crossed his arms. "I'm thirty-seven, Jacques." He looked like a disappointed primary school teacher.

"Yeah, you don't get how bitches are these days. Fuck off, huh?" Jacques brushed past him and hurried on.

Bokk? He's tryin' to Wise Old Elder me? That dude's fuckin' cooked… I know he's into Kay, and it's mutual, whoopee for them! Fuckin' white knight, dumbass tryn'a tell me how 'bitches' isn't 'P.C.,' just 'cuz'a some pussy, god dammit! Joss Whedon ass…

Jacques' room was a single: one bed, a desk, a closet and a cramped bathroom. He was in a sort of block with five other singles, with a shared common room and kitchenette built into the open hall between them. Pérez's room was at the head—our fuckin' R.A., thought Jacques—and Dan was here too, and Ensign Blanchard, and two other men Jacques had barely met. He went into his own little room.

On his desk there was something he hadn't expected: a flat little package wrapped in a clear plastic envelope. Just inside the sheet of soft plastic was a note, hand-scribbled poorly in pen: A BET'S A BET. Jacques picked up the package, and inside was a folded cheerleader's outfit: garish pink and white, including flattened pom-poms. And not for the modest, high school cheerleaders; the actual outfit was two pieces: short skirt and brassiere. As if he needed reminding, the back of the note added: SATURDAY AND SUNDAY. PÉREZ IS WATCHING. He groaned.