Once they were underway, Lana hit the shower, checking first with Ank that water was available.
Across from Lana’s spartan bedroom was an equally spartan bathroom. While she wasn’t a person concerned with décor, the silver-grey throughout the ship had grown monotonous, so in there she had swapped out all the grey panels with light blue ones.
The shower sprayed recycled water from the ceiling onto the occupant for a maximum of three minutes, every twenty-four hours. Ank insisted that using any more would require some plumbing to be re-configured. She had to wipe down all the surfaces in there after she indulged in the shower, because the water went everywhere within the compartment in Zero-G, but that was a small price to pay.
An irradiation washer, looking like an old-fashioned microwave, was set into the bathroom wall. She could put almost anything in there, clothes usually, and have them irradiated clean. Lana had asked Ank if the washer used dangerous radiation to do that. His reply was “kind of”. She’d left it at that.
“I’ve prepared an info-pack on the current situation between the two main factions,” Ank’s voice was loud enough to overcome the noise of the spraying water as Lana finished washing.
“Ank, I’ve told you before not to talk to me in the shower! Is there nowhere in the ship a girl can get some privacy?”
“Sorry — your recent admonishment for not informing you of current events over-rode the older instruction about leaving you alone in the shower... Oh, and by the way, you missed a spot.”
“Argghh! Remind me to re-tweak your humour settings too; it was a mistake to fiddle with those.”
“As you wish.”
The three-minute water allowance expired, and the water was replaced with warm air to dry off. Lana felt better, dressed in clean clothes and snuggled into the command chair, her knees pulled up under her chin.
“Okay Ank, gimme the bad news…”
As Ank narrated, accompanying facts, figures and news snippets scrolled up the main screen, over a background of black space and stars.
“Tensions have been increasing between the FSCS and the UNE. Caused mainly by the fact that, now in 2198, Earth is in no better shape than it was two hundred years ago. Resources are increasingly scarce, and inadequate environmental management persists, justifying the whole reason for colonising space in the first place — a plan B for humanity,” Ank's matter-of-fact voice was in full swing. His backgrounding of the situation impressed Lana and she wondered how much of it came from a news channel and how much Ank had just ad-libbed.
“As the colonies and stations expand,” Ank continued, “so does a feeling on Earth that a debt is owed back to the home planet. The Spacers are taking Earth’s best and brightest. Scientists, engineers, even academics have been answering the call to make new lives in space. Resentment at this is growing.”
Lana decided it was time to interrupt and do some fact checking, “Is that resentment quantifiable Ank, or are you making assumptions?”
“The news reports are all on the screen Lana. There are recorded protests, as well as pro-Spacer politicians losing their seats in any elections that have taken place while we've been gone. Would you like me to slow down the scroll speed of the data Lana?”
“No Ank, that's fine, just asking! No need to be an ass about it.”
“I’m not sure I know how to be an “ass” Lana?”
“Oh, I'm quite sure you do! Anyway, please continue.”
“Last year, soon after we left, the UNE tried to impose “Foundation Tax” on the colonies and stations as remuneration for the loss of Earth’s intellectual property and personnel. The FSCS refused to pay. The result was the UNE placing an embargo on all traffic leaving Earth. A domestic backlash resulted, as more than a few of their citizens had plans to leave and felt imprisoned by their government. Some ships challenged the embargo by simply leaving Earth anyway. The FSCS decreed that any person that made it out of Earth’s orbit was considered to be a citizen of space and therefore offered full FSCS protection.”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Oh crap, I think I know where this is going,” Lana sighed and hugged her knees tighter.
“The incident that led to a breakdown in negotiations involved an Earth registered cargo vessel engaged by a UNE defence satellite as it left Earth’s orbit, heading for Saturn. What was purported to be a warning shot by the satellite’s onboard laser burned through the ship’s hull, causing depressurisation and the instant deaths of the three crew. The UNE claimed it was an accident and offered to relax the embargo while it investigated. But their story didn’t wash. The FSCS took the attack as an act of war and declared the crew the first Spacer casualties of that war, as they’d just managed to leave orbit, so the crew were Spacers, as much as if they’d been “born in the black”.
Lana let out a long breath.
“Wow, what a total shit-storm. Why do people always have to end up fighting?”
“Ah, that would be due to the many weaknesses of humanity of course — greed, jealousy, tribalism....”
“Okay Ank, thank you...that sounds like an entirely different lecture.”
“Oh, I could give a series of lectures on the topic if you wish,” Ank replied with an unmistakable hint of pride in his voice.
“No! Not necessary!”
Sheesh, this AI is something else.
But he's no doubt right. Nothing seems to have changed. Did my parents really give their lives just so that humanity could spread its conflicts wider and further. The settlement of space was supposed to be peaceful and progressive.
Remembering her parents hurt, as it always did. Both engineers, they had died during the catastrophic failure of the first Mars colony’s superstructure fourteen years ago. As the dome depressurised, their last act was to throw little nine-year-old Lana into a life preservation pod. They’d had no time to get into pods themselves. It was six weeks before Lana was rescued. The medics told her that she had been in a pod-induced coma the entire time. When she woke up, it felt like just yesterday when she saw her parents through the glass lid of the pod, screaming “We love you!”
Lana said nothing, to anyone, for two years after her rescue. Not a word. She was diagnosed with PTSD, anxiety and depression. It wasn’t clear if she’d ever speak again. Two years later, she started uttering only the most necessary speech to make herself understood.
She told Ank she was done with his news report. The data on the screen dissolved back to the view of space and Lana stood and wandered around her usual circuit of the ship. She was depressed now. It was going to be a long trip back, and she had no idea what kind of scene she’d be greeted with on her return to the inner system. For one thing, she wouldn’t be going anywhere near Earth. The Liu Xin was a Spacer ship and she a Spacer, “Born in the black”. On Mars. She liked thinking of herself as a Martian when she watched those old sci-fi movies. It made her smile. She wasn’t smiling now though.
Maybe it isn’t even safe to go to Mars?
She headed past the bedroom and bathroom, to the rear storage compartment to conduct an unnecessary review of the ship’s inventory.
Lining each wall of the storage space, lockers contained nutrient-rich but unappetising ration packs, water tanks, tools, spares and precious space for personal cargo. Lana had stored expensive Earth wine here. But not the most expensive. Carrying bulky glass bottles of wine through space would be lunacy, no matter how much money someone had. It was a very good Earth-Australian Shiraz, but stored in large plastic bladders.
Ank had told Lana on several occasions that she was an alcoholic. Lana always replied that it was none of his business.
While she rummaged through the storage lockers, she decided to put some more time into programming Ank.
“Ank, please go into programming mode.”
“Oh good, are you going to change my voice finally? It can be a distraction during communications.”
“No! I like it that way. The only good men I’ve met in my life have either been gay or my Dad. And as you can’t be my Dad...”
“Why can’t I have a woman’s voice then?”
“Just because!”
“Yes Lana.”
“Good! Please enhance the priority you give to security protocols, keeping us a safe distance from any possible hostilities in the system. Scan all communications, including military…can you even scan military communications Ank?”
“Yes, I can scan many of them, depending how often they update their encryption algorithms.”
“Ok good. So yep, keep a constant watch on the situation, and use your predictive capabilities — I know you have them, to warn me of trouble. I’d like a daily info pack on the situation as we get closer in-system, and an immediate alert if hostilities result in the loss of a ship, on either side.”
“Consider it done.”
“Thanks, Ank, oh and turn your sense of humour down a notch. No, wait! Belay that order... I might need some humour on the way back. Even your annoying style.”
“Yes, boss.”
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