Jack of Spins

Customs 101

I don't remember exactly what Paula and I were discussing (or maybe I don't intend to tell you), but we were in my office. The door was open because Paula doesn't insist as loudly when other people can hear.

"I'm going to close the door," Paula said.

"That's probably not a good idea," I said mildly.

"Why not?" Paula asked.

"A ship just docked," I said. "I need to be available."

"Ships are docking all the time," she said.

"This one has never docked here before."

"You're afraid to shut the door," she said, eyes gleaming.

"Yes," I said.

Paula narrowed her eyes and then changed the subject. "You never thought of Curious as anything other than a person."

"Huh?" I asked, frowning.

"Curious," Paula said. "He has always been a person to you. In Doc's lab, before you knew anything about Submind or symbiotes, you treated him like every other technician working there. You didn't seem to question it."

I considered this for a moment, and didn't see an obvious trap, so I said, "That is how most of the other techs were treating him."

"And you noticed," Paula said. "And you never faltered. And you treat every chimpanzee on the station as a person."

Paula and I don't always share a viewpoint. Even couples who share hobbies have different subsets of interest--unless they are total emo-clones. Paula and I share an attraction for each other, and since that knowledge makes me stupid, I'd rather not comment further.

"Uhm. Paula. The truth is, I am very fond of the confusion that behavior causes in visitors and new additions to the station. It's astonishing how much magic happens."

Paula laughed, sharply and involuntarily.

"We'll continue our discussion when you get home," Paula said, examining my face intently while she rose to her feet.

"If you wish," I said.

"You should plan on a couple of hours at least," she said with a smile. "We'll talk, and then I've installed some glow-vines in our room."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, paying very close attention as she walked away.

As Paula cleared the doorway, I heard an elderly male voice singing out gleefully. "I'm a giant bug. I am a giant bug." It was coming from one of the nearby cargo inspection areas.

"That's got to be good," I muttered. I stood up and followed Paula into the main Customs area. Paula slowed down to look and shake her head. Then she turned away, saw me, waved goodbye, and disappeared spin-wards.

I walked over to see an elderly man laying face up on a large crate. He was waving his arms and legs in the air and singing about bugs and a person named Franz. The woman hovering over him was tiny, dark skinned, and very beautiful. She had to be Rita Selmon's sister, mother, or clone.

Looking at the man pretending to be a bug, I let slip my thoughts. "It must run in the family."

The woman heard me, and turned to look at me with absolutely no humor in her expression.

"I'm sorry," I said. "But you look so much like Rita, and... Well, I was reminded of turtles."

Her expression shattered into giggles, and the elder bug laughed and rolled off the crate onto his feet. He stuck out his hand and said, "I am Vincent K. Selmon, professor of literature, and I am a gigantic insect."

I took his hand and said, "I am DeeDee Jackson. Most call me Dee or Dizzy. I am the Minister of Customs, and I don't allow gigantic insects onto my space station unless they go through proper quarantine procedures. The same goes for turtles."

After another giggle, the woman held out her hand and said, "I'm Rhonda. Rita must be having a lot of fun with you."

I shook her hand. "Yes. She's very good at it."

Vincent started to drift aimlessly away, and Rhonda grabbed his arm to pull him closer. "Nerve scaring," she said softly. "It's getting worse."

"He really thinks he's a giant bug?" I asked, studying Vincent closely to see if he would react to the question.

"Sometimes," Rhonda said. "Rita says Doctor H. has a virus which can do remarkable genetic repairs. We're hoping she can help Dad."

Vincent stuck out his hand and said, "Hi. I'm Gregor, the dung beetle."

I shook his hand. "Rhonda," I said carefully. "If your father wants to be a giant cockroach, Doc's virus is the last thing you need."

"What do you mean?"

"The virus is sentient, as Doc put it, but the idea of self is sort of borrowed from the host. It seems to me the virus will want to be, or think it already is, a giant bug, and your father's symbiote may try to make it happen. I doubt if it will be dangerous, but it could be very interesting."

Rhonda's eyes had widened with every word. "Rita must have discovered this by now. Why hasn't she told me?"

"I've probably given it a lot more thought than most," I said. Then I turned around and pulled down the back of my shirt so she could see my symbiote. "Before I got this, my biggest fear was of being possessed by some crazed space-germ which wants to destroy Earth. I looked into it."

I turned back around and if anything, Rhonda's eyes were even wider. "You had nerve damage? Was it on your spine? Was it severed?"

"No," I said, a bit surprised by the new direction.

"Why then?"

"Atmo and vac-suits, short range grippers...." She still looked puzzled. "I got it so I could wear a bio-tech spacesuit, custom made by Submind."

"Submind?" Rhonda said faintly. I started to explain, and then realized how tired she looked.

"Yeah. You'll catch on. Why don't I call someone? Is Rita expecting you?"

"We're two days early," Rhonda said, tugging her father back in.

I summoned the nearest available customs agent with my magic comm-button. Agent Sandra Quinn, whom I still need to promote, was first on the scene.

"Please take Miss Selmon and her father to one of the secure VIP suites," I said. "And see if we can get a med-tech assigned to assist with Mr. Selmon for the evening."

"Yes, sir." Quinn said.

I noticed two chimpanzees had also answered my summons. I didn't recall their names, if I ever knew them, but I pointed to Rhonda and gestured, "Luggage. Please help." They happily started piling crates and luggage onto carts, even rearranging it when Rhonda objected to something.

"I have an appointment," I said to Rhonda, thinking about Paula. "You folks have a nice day."

"Thankyou thankyou," Rhonda said breathlessly, grabbing me in an unexpected hug. I hugged back, and then went home.

Modules and Subroutines

People have been asking me the oddest questions lately. Retired Captain Raymond Miller, Ray, stopped by my office to see if I could 'fix' something for him. I don't know why, but for some reason I expected Ray to stop asking me that question now that I am Minister of Customs. I'm sure he knows there are other people aboard this space station.

"It's Comet," Ray said, patting his dog's head. "I've been so busy I haven't had time to play with him. I feel guilty. I was wondering if Submind would add an Entertainment Module to Comet's symbiote."

I was too stunned to think of an answer, and I was afraid to ask him about Entertainment Modules, so I just looked at him until he said, "I could ask Doc?"

"Yeah," I said. "But I think if Comet wanted an Entertainment Module, he would have one already. Maybe you should just see if one of the hydro-parks has a play service. Or maybe one of Ben's girls..."

Ray nodded, said "Thank you," and left. I don't understand why people own dogs.

Joe, of all people, came by to ask if I could get my hands on some spare quanta-drives for the data core. He has a new symbiote, and he seems to know stuff about math which might as well be magic. If Joe wants to upgrade the data core, it needs an upgrade.

I had to ask though. "Why? And why are you asking me?"

"Eddie told me to ask you. He says you know how to make things happen." It didn't sound like he believed what Eddie says. "Submind has inspired massive data uploads, and the file metadex is weeks behind. Quanta-drives don't really run out of space, but it's getting hard to find non-discrete files. A couple more drives will speed up data absorption."

"I might be able to get a couple from Jupiter System," I said thoughtfully. "They have a surplus on 7X-370s, but those things are huge. We'll have to cut our way into the data core sub-level to make them fit."

Considering the way greed blazed from Joe's eyes, I figured those would do the trick. I was also wondering how Eddie knew I'd been contacted by an old school-mate who is currently working at Data Planets Inc.

Eddie didn't come to me, but when I asked him why he was looking through my personal data, he had the strangest question of the day.

"What would you do if you just knew things about people? Without even trying?" Eddie asked me.

"I.... I'd know stuff I guess." I said lamely. This was not the direction I had intended to go with this conversation.

"Yes," Eddie said. "I don't have to look through your data, Dee. Whatever I got from this symbiote has nothing to do with data cores. It's like, if I know someone well enough, I can think exactly like them. I just know you. I know your security codes. I know when you change them and what you change them to."

"Oh."

"Your mind is a freaking obstacle course," Eddie said with grin.

"Good," I said. "Maybe you'll get lost or something."

"So what should I do?" Eddie asked.

"Don't you already know what I'm going to say?"

"Not if I'm asking the question," Eddie said.

I thought about it for a moment and said, "If you keep this a secret, some day it might get out. Probably will. Then everyone will be concerned, wondering how long you've been reading their minds..."

"It's not mind reading..."

"So don't keep it a secret. Explain it. Dump data into the core. A few people will be upset, but full discloser now will eliminate bad future possibilities." I shrugged.

Eddied nodded, and wrote a pamphlet he can post or print for anyone who wants to know.

Counter Weight, part 2

The Dizzy Pig Bar and Grill has changed since we cut the station in half and moved into a stable orbit. It was a nice place before that. Now it's alive. There are glow-vines in all the upper corners--Paula has encouraged a growth strain which produces a less stimulating, but still effective, light source--and the walls are covered with high-oxy output vines custom made by Submind.

There are pictures on one wall. Pictures from the old place. The new place is better, but you can't tell that from the pictures. While having a few drinks the other night, it was Counter-Spin Rick who explained it to me.

"The old place stank like a sewer-core compared to the air in here now," he said, waving a drunken half-finished Slush Bomb through the air.

"Can't argue with that," I said.

"Yeah?" Rick asked. "You wanna argue?"

I waved my own Slush Bomb, a Cherry Burst, in his direction and said. "No. Evil Eddie got this mind thing, from the symbiote, you know.... So I've had enough hassle this week."

"Not mind reading," Rick said. "I downloaded the thing, data file--don't think I got much to worry about."

"I started using random generation... generated pass-codes."

"That'd work," Rick said with a nod.

"Had to write it down, but it's locked away from Eddie."

"So what you get?" Rick asked. "From Submind?"

"Hard to explain. Like color. You know. Explaining to someone who can't see."

"Tell me another one, Dee."

"Yeah? Bet you can't explain your thing either," I said.

"I can," Rick stated, throwing his shoulders back and his head up. "When I'm wearing my Submind gear, I can adjust gravity."

I may have said something, but it certainly didn't make any sense.

"Why you think those OSA troops were so impressed? Didn't see any of them strutting around in micro-gee without going into orbit," Rick sounded depressed that I hadn't noticed. "I'm not the only one, either."

I shrugged. "I got this movement thing, like touch, like holding it in my hands," I said. "I figure that's why I used to get space sick... 'cause I knew my own 'universal' momentum or something. Now, with this bug in my head, I can use my inertia--kinda like you using gravity I guess."

"Next game, I'm betting on you," Rick said, laughing. He was referring to the bi-weekly game of Spinball Eddie and I play to keep Doc Hester from nagging us constantly.

"Eddie probably knows every play I'm about to make," I pointed out.

"Right," Rick said. "Maybe I'll bet on the Tangent Races instead."

The Theory of Quantum Storage

Yesterday I rode the main launch platform into free-fall to make a personal inspection of our new quanta-drives. (Can you believe I had confirmation of the order in less than a day, and they shipped high velocity at no extra charge?) Those things are too big to bring into the station, so we're dropping them into the lash-up until we can cut a hole big enough to install them in. The ride was almost as good a being a simple technician again.

It usually takes a couple of hours to unload the transports, so I drifted along in my vac-suit and wondered if I should mark anything for closer inspection by a customs team. I was pretty sure they didn't need my help, so I stopped at wondering.

Before I got this job as Minister of Customs, I used to love platform duty. Well, not 'love' I guess, but at least it was peaceful. Most Techs looking for peace try for grip-loader duty--moving crates, equipment and even ships around while wearing a Zero Gee, ion drive, power-assist vac-suit. I always preferred operating the platform and riding it from Zero Gee and back to full spin-weight, even if it meant interacting with people.

Now I don't get to drive, or be in free-fall much, but I still have to interact because I'm important. Paula says it's called 'progress.' I call it lack of judgment on my part, but maybe it was poor sales resistance.

For a moment I wondered if poor sales resistance was the mistake which got me these new drives, but I had confidence in my old friend at Data Planets. Plus, it's hard to go wrong with quanta drives. They either work or they don't, and the ones which don't work never leave the factory floor. Considering how large they are, the name is somewhat ironic, but 'quanta' refers to where the data goes, not the size of the device.

The location 'quanta' is inside of every of quanta drive. It is endless and infinitely small, and it's the same 'quanta' inside of every single drive. When data is absorbed by the data core it becomes accessible from any system connected to a quanta drive. If you know how to find it. That is the limit of my understanding. Query the system if you want to know more.

The Pit of Civilization

If someone has convinced you that Civilization is the top, they lied to you. Not only that, but you were stupid enough to believe them. How's that for Civilization?

If you don't think that was funny, sorry. I will tell you a story which might get to the point, and it could also explain why civilization grows best in a pit.

One of Mini Cee's shift supervisor's is a joker named Four-Thumbs. Most chimpanzees I know have chosen their own human name, and I had to ask him about it. Chimpanzees also have a strange sense of humor.

"Why'd you choose that name?" I asked him. Chimpanzees ignore subtlety, so I didn't bother hinting around.

"To give humans pause when they hear it," he said, speaking with his hands.

"That's it?"

"You do the same, Dizzy. You call us when a human needs to change view-points. You laugh with us when humans think of nothing but luggage."

"Getting 'one up' is standard human behavior," I said.

"Recognition. Same thing." Four-Thumbs said.

"So you would like people to notice your thumbs?" I asked. "Not just your fur coat?"

His laughter, better described as shrieks of chimpanzee hysteria, hurt my ears. I considered it agreement.

"And you think I'm funny? And I make people notice you? That's why you follow my orders?"

He shrugged. "Doc's orders."

"Thank you so much," I said.

"You listen," Four Thumbs said. "Must be why Kelly put you here."

"I listen because it's the only way to get rid of some people," I said with irritation.

"Yes," Four Thumbs said. "You are very funny. That is why we think you will let us install a sanitation pit. For our more troublesome guests."

It took me a second. "What?"

"We wish to convert the backup waste storage core."

"Did you say, 'sanitation pit'?" I asked, spelling it out, I hope correctly, in hand sign.

"Yes," Four Thumbs said. "But it's not really a pit. The backup core was originally designed as a series of recreational swimming pools, but something went wrong. It turns out the water flows too fast through the pools, and no one can use them. The pools were eventually covered with filter-grating and powered down."

"And you want to fill the pools with some type of sanitation fluid?" I asked very very carefully.

"Submind," was all he said.

What I saw in my head was the bank of a wild, carnivorous river, entangled by writhing vegetation. As I watched, a hapless and yet smelly ice-buster was thrown into the flowing lime-gelatin and pineapple chunks of the river Submind, and then he was dragged under by a thorn-encrusted vine. I just had to laugh. In fact, I couldn't stop laughing for almost two minutes.

I approved of the "Sanitation Pit" and forgot to tell Kelly until it was too late. I'm sure I'll pay for it later, but she didn't make us close it down. So what if I have the sense of humor of a chimpanzee.

Carbon Inevitable

"We found carbon," Doc said. I'm sure it was Doc. Submind isn't much for ego.

"You stopped at Saturn because you found carbon?" I asked. "You mean Titan?" These were follow-up questions to my ill-conceived initial query about an intelligent virus hanging around in the rings of Saturn.

Doc laughed. "Titan isn't much use to us," she said, this time with that disconnected voice I've decided is Doc letting Submind speak for itself. "We stopped here because this is a third generation star."

"Right. Carbon, heavy metals. For your previous hosts?" I asked.

The silence was very heavy, like it was accelerating.

"You didn't just drift through interstellar space and then 'decide' to stop here," I said.

"Your logic is always surprising, Dizzy," Doc said. "You are partially correct. If our previous hosts had survived the journey, life on Earth would have been very different."

"Good on us," I said.

"Nothing personal," Doc said, or it might have been Submind. "Humans are not so delicate as the Clee, and we have high hopes for our next journey."

"Should we be doing that?" I asked.

"Why not?" Doc asked. "Carbon makes life inevitable. Life makes sentience inevitable. It's only a matter of genesis or survival, and sentient life is good at survival. Millions of years of practice..."

"Oh," I said. "In that case, I'll be safely in the past before it's time to worry."

Doc frowned at me.

I shrugged. "The other day I was having a conversation with a chimpanzee, and I started wondering why I didn't think it was strange. Then I realized I did think it was strange, and there was nothing to do but accept it. Now I have questions."

Still frowning, Doc made shooing motions. I was done anyway.

Promotional Tour

Would you believe we have tourists? Sandra Quinn sent me a data-link. It was a general invitation to the merchants of Fort Falling for a visit from a tourist mothership.* Rich people are very strange. Sandra wanted to know if we were going to shut it down as a danger to our enviro-systems. I hadn't even considered it until she asked, so I'm guessing her boyfriend, Sam Tellerwell, was thinking paranoid merchant thoughts about me ruining his profits. He's only a tiny bit rich.

I pushed the big button on my magic summoning wand and said, "Sandra. Please report to my office."

She must have been waiting. "Yes, sir?"

"Sit down," I said.

"Thank you."

I shuffled through some printouts and asked, "How long have you been on the station, Sandra."

She was surprised by the question, but didn't hesitate. "Seven years and a few months. It's in my records."

I smiled at her crookedly and asked her the follow-up question. "Why did you stay?"

The answer to that one was not in her records. It wasn't in anyone's records unless they said it in a public log somewhere. No one needs a personal reason for leaving a condemned space-station, and now there's no reason to leave.

"I," she paused and kind of ducked her head. "I was angry with my father. He didn't want me to come out here, and he was so smug about my failure..." She paused. "I didn't want to hear any more, so I told him I'd call back on his birthday, and I blocked all his messages."

"Your... failure?" I asked.

She just shrugged.

"This tourist mothership..." I asked, waiting for her to nod. "Is the name 'Savanna Heights' an oxymoron?"

She burst out laughing.

When she finished, I handed her one of the printouts I had been holding. "Savanna Heights is all yours. I'm taking the quiet shift until they are gone."

"What?" She asked, looking at the printout. It was an official document, signed by governor Kelly Grace Smith, declaring Sandra Quinn the new Assistant Minister of Customs. Her mouth opened four or five times before she squeaked something.

"I'm the Minister of Customs," I said. "Who's going to argue? I have an appointment with Kelly in a few minutes. You can sit at my desk while I'm gone. Call your dad." Then I got up and left.

I'm starting to think Kelly has turned me into one of those face-guys which all the real politicians have on tap. You know, the guy who looks good holding a gun and saving kittens, but doesn't seem to have much going on between his ears. Not that I would hold a gun, or let anyone put something between my ears, but I'm good with saving kittens.

As punishment for an earlier offense against her authority, Kelly forced me to wear my high-tech, bio-tech vac-suit, saying, "I need you to provide a significant demonstration for the tourists arriving on the main launch. You're the Minister of Customs. Go minister." Kelly has also scheduled nine spinball games for me, and I haven't even seen next week's schedule.

I guess the only thing which bothers me is being at the center of attention. I don't like being watched. On the plus side, spinball is a thousand times more fun than inspecting luggage.

A mothership is a traveling city. Most of the city is enviro-services, and the rest is party. Population: A few hundred rich tourists and a staff of thousands. Did I say rich tourists? The tour takes 25 years, and it covers most of the solar system.

Critical Reaction

[So I'm talking to Submind Doc Hester in a good mood, and she agrees to answer another question.]

"I've got this thing," I said. "For you it's right I guess, but I don't want another mind inside my head... Even though I know Submind won't take over or anything."

"You said you had a question," Doc said.

"Yeah. How do I know the virus won't mutate into something which spreads from my symbiote and then wants to do the thinking for me?"

"You don't," Doc said. "But it has never happened, as far as we know." She paused and looked at me closely. "If that were to happen, you would be killed and we would destroy ourselves and this entire space station. Our policy indicates we should immediately navigate into the center of the nearest star, but this thing is too slow. We would be forced to detonate Saturn instead."

"Oh," I said quietly. "That's probably why you've never heard."

"Or it's never happened," Doc said. "We are more than a virus, Dizzy."

"That's why I have questions," I said softly, but I was momentarily out of questions.

Burden of Proof

As the Minister of Customs, I have no way of knowing for certain that one of my luggage inspectors damaged something with improper handling unless I actually witnessed the damages happen. This does not mean I don't get blamed for it.

"Sir," I said. "Despite the fact that all of our inspectors are chimpanzees, they are more than capable of opening your luggage without damaging the locks." I looked down at the twisted latch and added, "They probably would have popped the hinge anyway. Do you know how much force a chimp can apply when using all four limbs?"

The tourist, Mr. Ted Stansen, was the one tourist of any group who gives all the other tourists a bad name. "Are you trying to deny those animals ripped up my luggage?" He shouted.

"No," I said. "I'm saying those animals would have made a much more interesting mess."

"I'm not going to stand for this. I want to speak to my old buddy Jackson, the Minister of Customs."

I blinked at him. It was the first time I ever heard anyone drop my own name. I suppose it was an honest mistake. There are three or four DeeDee Jacksons in the galaxy, and if I happen to be the only male with that name, Ted could be confusing me with an old girlfriend.

"Well?" He asked.

"I'd rather you didn't do that," I said. "How about if I admit we broke your luggage, and you can follow the nice chimpanzee, her name is Mini, to a processing room where you can wait in comfort."

"Some things were stolen too," Ted said.

"I'll take full responsibility," I said, grabbing his elbow and propelling him forward. "But you do realize this is an independent station? Even if Minister Jackson is a friend of yours, he is way too important to recognize old school buddies. I bet he won't even remember you."

"Probably not," Ted muttered.

I opened the door to the "Processing Garden" and nudged Ted through it. The room was a comfortable little hydro-garden with a sluggish green stream at the far end. There were three benches and a wandering pathway.

"I would prefer to wait somewhere where I have access to an info-port," Ted said after looking around.

"Right this way," I said, grabbing his elbow again, and guiding him down the path toward the stream. "It won't take long at all."

Four Thumbs ambled past with Ted's broken luggage and tossed it into the stream.

"Hey," Ted shouted, "You crazy monkey. Give me my stuff back." Tugging his elbow out of my grasp, Ted ran to the stream's edge and watched his luggage sink.

"Don't worry about it," I said. "I took full responsibility. Remember?"

When Ted turned to look at me in disbelief, Mini Cee knocked him backwards into the stream.

"My friends call me Dizzy," I said as he sank. He was under in two counts.

Several tourists had followed us in, and most of them seemed to be amused. I noticed because they were making cheerful noises. One or two started to look worried when Ted didn't come back up.

"Sorry about the disturbance," I said. "He'll be fine. That's all oxy-fluid. It comes out about a third of the way around the station."

There was applause all around.

Relativity Zero

I've learned something about time. Or more correctly, about Submind's ability to manipulate various states of reality. Counter-spin Rick can adjust his own personal gravity. I've watched him do it, and I paid attention this last time.

Rick can hop from snowball to snowball without using his ion-thrusters.

"How the hell did you do that?" I asked over comm.

"What?" Rick asked. He hadn't even thought about it.

"Get off of this bit of ice," I added. "And onto that bit ice you are on right now?"

"Oh that," Rick said, pausing. "I'll tell you only if you promise not to ask another question for at least 24 hours."

"That's stupid. What if I don't understand?"

"You'll have time to think of a better question," Rick said.

I thought about it for maybe a second and said, "Fine. But I get two questions tomorrow."

Rick grinned and said, "I encouraged the 'bit of ice' to catch me."

It's so obvious I feel confident I won't bring it up again. Plus, Rick probably doesn't want to describe color for me.

I asked Doc. Doc sent me to a chimp who calls himself Tesla Cee. Tesla is even more aggressive than most male apes, but he has channeled it into what has got to be a first for chimpanzees. He plays with lightning.*

In short terms, Tesla (and probably a generous dosage of Submind) told me that gravity is easy to manipulate at the quantum level, and Submind is good at quantum. Time is also part of the equation, and when Rick is catching a new ride, he is probably slowing his own personal time.

So now I want to learn how to do that, because if I can turn a three hour boring suit ride into an 18 minute joy ride at 'Relativity One,' then I will totally forget every single Submind intrusion into my life. The gravity manipulation thing would be nice too.

Later in the bar, I asked Tesla Cee about his fascination with a crazy pre-Luna human. He said, "Tesla was the first human scientist with an imagination."
Everyone has their own delusions I guess. I have concluded that like humans, some chimpanzees are best avoided.

Feeling Truth

My granpa used to talk about what kinds of fear there were, and how I should pay attention to the warning and use it to get the hell out of the way. I think it was his way of telling me to get over being space-struck and watch where I was going.

I've learned a couple of things since then. For one, fear is not always useful. For another, politics and opinions are all about the deep-down-personal feelings, and if fear is one of those feelings, the others cannot be trusted. Granpa probably knew that too, but I was only seven at the time.

At the moment I'm basking in the proof that high-tech suits and toys are positive status points--no matter where they came from. My discomfort with zero-Gee has become my best thing because of an intelligent virus inhabiting a genetically engineered host of it's own creation. Plus, I get the latest and best thing in vacuum wear.

It's been weeks since I checked the ship, and Pipster has blissfully taken over. I suspect she is planning to have more kittens. She wasn't exactly offended when I stopped by without calling, but she was fine with my presence as long as I didn't touch her or acknowledge her in any way. Miss Hiss decided to go domestic and moved into the deluxe-master apartment for very-important-cogs with Paula and me. Bane was last seen guarding his favorite fish pond.

Another thing Grandpa always said was, "Truth doesn't mean vac unless it has feeling." It was usually after a drunken argument with an engineer.

Probability Cloud

I stopped by Doc's lab to ask more questions about the symbionts. This time I wasn't worried so much as I was looking for an upgrade.

"How can I learn to slow down my own time rate?" I asked. "Like Rick does with his gravity trick?"

"There was this pre-Luna scientist named Heisenberg," she said. "He picked up on a universal truth and called it the Uncertainty Principle. It's the one you used to rant about on a regular basis when we were moving the station."

"You mean not knowing where something is and how fast it's going at the same time?" I asked. "Is that what it's called? No wonder you wouldn't admit to knowing anything about it."

She laughed quietly. "I also didn't explain that it only applies to very small particles. Apply this principle to a very small and very fast electron, and location effectively becomes anywhere within a specific probability cloud at all times. Time is no longer a factor."

"How does that help me slow time with this symbiont?" Confusion makes me grumpy.

"Within known parameters, a particle can be anywhere at any time, but if the right pressure is applied, a particle can be literally anywhere in the universe for micro-slices of time," Doc said, shrugging. "This can be used to encourage the gravity of one mass to have more effect on your own mass. A useful side-effect of that pressure is time dilation."

"So," I said, hesitating briefly to form my thoughts. "Our three dimensions don't fit together exactly perfectly, because if they did, time wouldn't be able to get in?"

It was one of THOSE pauses. Doc smiled and said, "The universe fits together just fine until you pay attention to the small details. That's where time becomes irrelevant."

"Huh," I said. "I thought I had something there."

"We will have to think about it," Doc said. "Perhaps if we did some cloning experiments, we could determine if your thought processes have a genetic component."

It took me a second. "What? I don't think so. I like knowing who I am." I suddenly realized Doc was laughing, and I became certain the joke was Submind's.

"Laugh it up space-bug. I only want to learn how to control gravity with this thing. I don't suppose you could just tell me how? So I can go try it out?" I asked without much hope.

"Sorry. It's like learning to walk. You're on your own from here."

Robot Uprising

Fife Tiberman was a tiny man with a red face and white thinning hair. That, plus the palm sized mechanical spider he was demonstrating, made me think of a toy maker. "I had a dumb cat get in the way," he said. "It makes you wonder how many incredible ideas are lost because of distraction."

"So," I said carefully. "A cat interrupted your great idea because you forgot to secure the lab, which then gave you another great idea for those creepy things," I paused to readjust my vocal output down to normal. "And now you want to ban cats from my station, and replace them with hundreds of hive-minded little automatons?"

"Yes," the man said, sounding puzzled by my tone.

"The toys stay on your ship," I said flatly.

"But I need at least 25 units to demonstrate full functionality for the Governor and Doctor Hestor."

He was obviously serious because he ignored my sarcasm, so I was trying very hard not to laugh. "Why don't you take a tour of the station without the robot grid, and then if you still think the direct approach is best, schedule a brief pre-demonstration with four or five units. If Kelly doesn't throw you the off the station, we'll talk about harsh environment adaptability."

He was staring at me in horror. I knew all about Fife's project because Eddie hadn't shut up about it for weeks. EMF Eddie is a genius in a lot of way which don't apply to reality, but at least he knows that. He said the robots would be good in automated comm-stations and such, where atmo was maintained for visitors and service personel.

"Robots will always be better than life-forms for some things," I said. "I've got some toxic cores in need of scraping. Of course, I'm not a tech any more, but..."

"I will return to my ship and divest myself of the grid," he said sharply. "Then I will make my own appointment with the Governor, durning which time I will not only make my demonstration, but complain about your conduct."

"Oh good," I said, smiling widely. "Have me replaced. For a favor that big, I'll let you have first choice from Pipster's next litter."

He spun around and stomped away. The swarm of creepy little robots followed along. I half expected him to crush one, but he seems to have the damage avoidance software locked. I can only guess the electronic wand in his hand was the "nucleus control device."

The Other Side of Gravity

"Why didn't you tell me this last month?" I asked loudly. "I still want to know why you didn't tell me."

Rich just shrugged.

I turned on Paula and Doc and started to shout again, but Paula interrupted casually.

"Geez, Dizzy, after all the fuss you make about cats having minds of their own, you'd think we strapped Bane to a booster and lit the fuss."

"You should have told me," I said.

"Told you what, Dizzy?" Paula asked. "That we think Bane took his vac-suit and jumped on the fastest Relativity Train to Earth? You're not very rational about cats, and anything Rick or I could have told you a month ago would have sent you off into the vacuum looking for him. Doc didn't want us to say anything which might hinder your attempts to consciously interface with the symbiont."

I turned to glare at Doc, but couldn't think of anything to shout.

"You appear to have gained some measure of conscious control," she said with a shrug. "Your instincts probably would have delayed your progress."

It's strange, even though I didn't see Bane that much, the station feels as if there is an empty spot--you don't miss it until it's gone sort of thing. It's the not knowing. You know? I don't know where he's at, or how to find him.

"What's with Earth anyway?" I asked. "He's a damn cat. How would he even know about Earth, let alone how to get there in some feline space-pod?"

It was an uncomfortable silence. I'm used to those, so I let it stay that way until Doc, a.k.a. Submind, said, "His symbiont has known about Earth all along... And we believe he managed to trigger Genitor memories."

"Genitor?"

"Our original host species. We were only genetic memories back then." Submind said. "Hiekaa were very much like Earth felines, and we think Bane has gained access to those memories. If so, he is most likely looking for territory and a mate."

"Great," I muttered. "I knew there would be an alien invasion some day. Earth won't know what hit them."

Doc laughed uncertainly.

Paula attempted to change the subject. "So you learned how to adjust your personal gravity?"

"Yes," I said. "I'm not impressed. Do you know how hard it is to achieve Relativity One? I was out there for ten hours, and when I came back, it was only 12 hours real time. It's hardly worth the effort."

Paula nodded.

"It gets easier," Rick said.

"And a ship sized mass will make it even easier," Doc said.

"Besides that," Paula said. "It's about your personal gravity--not time."

"Time is just the other side of gravity," I said.

Doc gave me one of THOSE looks, but she didn't bother to explain.

Temporal Inertia

Counter-Spin went ice-hopping with me to help me 'practice' manipulating gravity. I'm not sure he understands I'm really just trying to get a grip on time. While Rick is throwing around his own personal gravity, he is slowing his own time in little fractions. He leaves for a day, and his watch is ten minutes slow when he gets back to the station.

"Ten minutes?" I asked, making sure Rick understood how disappointed I was.

"Why do you keep going on about that, Dizzy?" Rick said. "It was ten minutes. I was just ice-hopping, not trying to achieve some exponential time compression."

"Dilatation," I muttered.

"Whatever," Rick said. "Stop using your ion thrusters for one thing. You want to feel the ice with your feet before it's even close enough to see."

"No I don't," I said. "I like my ion thrusters. I have control of my own momentum."

"You'll never learn..."

"Why should I?"

"You said you wanted..."

"To control my own personal time," I said, interrupting. "Gravity is only the power source for what I want to do."

"You are crazy. Go figure it out then. I'm going to stretch my legs." Rick turned, hopped off the snowball we were riding, and orbited a couple of times to pick up speed. That meant he wouldn't be back for a while. He probably thought he was punishing me with his absence.

I thrusted into a trailing orbit with the snowball and idled the jets. I 'felt' it's gravity with my feet and rode the edge of Saturn's rings while I thought about time. Time was there, like inertia and momentum, and I could feel it.

Some people can explain anything and make it simple.

I am floating in space while my gravity rides a snowball. All around me is an endless well of mass--an untapped source of time dialatation. I activate the symbiont and throw my gravity outwards, in all directions.

I take three deep breaths.

"Yo," someone shouted. "You going into hyber-sleep or what?"

"No," I said. "Why?"

"I've been trying to shake you out of it for half an hour," Rick said. "Figuratively speaking. These suits have some serious security."

"How long were you gone?" I asked.

"Well, I found and marked a carbon-cluster. According to my suit-chrono, I was gone for about 10 hours. I don't know what yours says."

I ignored his sarcasm and said, "I did it."

"Did what?" Rick asked suspiciously. His day had been longer than mine.

"Relativity Two, I think," I said. "There are 3600 seconds in 1 hour... I took three deep breaths, say about six seconds..."

"Seriously. What the hell are you talking about?"

"Rick," I said slowly, and with as much drama as possible. "According to my suit-chrono, you only left a few minutes ago."

"Oh," he said, catching on.

This may seem strange, considering how short it was for me personally, but that was best day I've had in weeks.

Golden Relativity

"Relativity 1.618?" I asked. "That's stupid. Where did you get a number like that?"

"You know about pi?"

"Duh," I said. "I'm a Dizzy Jack."

"Right," Doc said. "This one is like that, only it's called phi."

"1.618 is phi? Should I bother asking you to explain?"

"It's more commonly called the golden ratio." Doc said. "From your description of the event, the inaccurate time accounting, and your vague air of smugness about how easy it was, you achieved Relativity 1.618, not Relativity Two."

"I didn't say it was easy," I said with irritation. "I said it was simple once I figured it out."

"You haven't figured it out," Doc said. Her tone of certainty suggested that Submind was present and, once again, turning my personal triumph into just another day.

"What did I do then?"

"You learned how to turn it on," Doc said. I could tell Submind was driving the words. "You have very little control. When you have learned to focus your gravity and hop snowballs like Rick, you might be able to do more than orbit Saturn while you are exercising relativity."

That made sense, but didn't make me happy. "It's just that Rick, as much as I like the guy, can't stop talking about how easy it would be to take over this ship or that space station. Did you know he wants to take Mars Metro?"

Doc nodded.

"He goes into details I don't even understand," I said, shuddering. "And he laughs like it's not really a joke. It gives me the creeps when I think about it, because I'm fairly sure he would be successful."

Doc nodded and shrugged. "No one else has learned 'the gravity trick', as you call it."

"What does phi have to do with time dilatation anyway?"

"It is a natural resting point for those without focus, and a common ratio throughout the universe. Go look it up--and then consider the inverse."

"Great," I muttered, and went home for a nap.

Symborg

"So what do you think? Chicken or egg?" Kevin asked, gesturing at himself.

I met Kevin Jaunha a couple of months ago. He was staying with Ray Miller, Minister of Immigration, while he waited for his papers to clear. Remember Comet, the ex-cybernetic dog? Kevin had similar cybernetic implants--plus replacements for nearly half his face, one arm, both legs, and some squishy parts I don't want to talk about.

"Was it a chicken egg, and if so, was that because it was from a chicken, or because a chicken hatched out of it?" I asked. "Obviously there were eggs a long time before there were chickens, so I have to assume you intend that a chicken hatches out of the egg, in which case, the egg was first."

"That part was rhetorical." Kevin said.

"However," I continued. "If you intended that a chicken laid the egg, then your question is pointless. Considering there are only two answers, and one of them pointless, the question itself reveals nothing about chickens, eggs, or your new face."

"Thank you very much. You can shut up now."

I couldn't stop. "It makes me wonder if eggs are like the uncertainty principle. You can't tell what kind of egg it is until it hatches, then it's no longer an egg."

"Ray had me convinced you were intelligent," Kevin said.

I shrugged and said, "I've been calling Comet a 'symborg'. Other than that, I don't have anything to say about it. Maybe one day, if I get half my head blown off and then have it replaced by custom made biological constructs infected with an intelligent virus, I'll have more of an opinion."

"Symborg?" Kevin asked, flexing his symborg hand. "I like that. Ray was right about you."

"So you just stopped by my office to let me judge your face?"

"Pretty much." Kevin said. "Thanks, Dee."

"No problem," I muttered to his receding backside.

Measuring the Universe

It's strange how life works. Is a lifetime measured by time alone? Is a lifetime the sum or only a part of being? Yes, I have been drinking. Why do you ask?

What was it Kevin said?

"We are here to measure the universe."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, unfocusing from my slush bomb to look in his general directions. It was one of those bar conversations where no one ever gets to the point, even though everyone is sure there is one.

"Eddie was asking about existinnn.... meaning of life. 'Forty two' didn't even make sense."

"It's not suppose to make sense," I explained.

"What's the point of discussing it then?" he asked.

I shrugged and said, "It's better than going on about Joe and his heavy-handed appropriation of my quanta drive."

Kevin thought about it for a few seconds. "Yeah. But don't you have another one of those things?"

I laughed and managed to snort very cold alcohol while doing it. Kevin waited for me to recover. "No. There are two units, but the quanta drive itself exists 'between' them, as it were, so there is only one drive."

"Oh." Kevin contemplated his drink and said, "I really missed getting drunk. Submind is so going on my holiday gift list. Maybe a nice expensive wine for the Doc... that big fellow who's going to marry Sandra... he's got some nice stuff..."

I nodded and circled back in on the conversation. "So how are we measuring the universe?"

Kevin shrugged. "Like a tick toc clock ticking thing. Take out one second, and the whole thing stops."

I blinked at him. It made sense in a drunken sort of way. "Yeah."

"It's more than that, for certain," Kevin said. I'm not sure he cared if I was listening or not. "We notice the universe. We detect it in specific ways--giving names to things, and counting things, and all sorts of stuff like that."

"You've been talking to Doc," I said.

Kevin shrugged. He does that a lot now that both of his shoulders work like they should. "She's the closest thing to a symborg around here, and I had questions."

"Sounds like you got the same kind of answers I usually get."

Kevin smiled and nodded. Then he stood up and carefully walked over to get a refill.

"Five years without a drink," I muttered. "He's holding it pretty well."

Reasonable Expectations

"Why are you pacing away my new Submind enhanced moss carpet and muttering about unreasonable expectations," Paula asked me. She was standing in my way.

I laughed. "My Nana was prone to full blown rants. She would go on about 'unreasonable expectations' until someone caught her taking a breath and asked her a question. It had to be a question. She used to say that questions switched her brain back on."

I shrugged. "She always ended a rant by saying something like, 'Reasonable is never reasonable to everyone.'"

Paula nodded and said, "The first mistake starts with two people and the application of reason. Even if total consensus is achieved, there are two sets of rules in operation. The rules may look the same, and sound the same, but that doesn't mean they understand each other."

"What?" I said.

She smiled. "That's what my aunt Penny used to say about unreasonable expectations."

"Ah." I said. "The infamous Aunt Penny. The forth pee I believe."

"Stop it," Paula said. "Do you want to talk about it, or should I start growing some more carpet?"

"I'd rather pace, if it's all the same to you. I didn't enjoy my grandmother's rants."

"Right," Paula said. "That was a rhetorical question, but I can see I'll have to create a pacing area for you. For now, get out of the apartment. There's a mature installation of this carpet in the feline park. If you have to pace, please go there."

"Really? You mean the feline park for our section?"

"Yes," Paula said with exasperation. "All of them."

"When can I come back?" I asked.

She walked over to the door and held it open. I'm fairly certain I was oblivious to an entire level of social dynamic, but I just couldn't put my finger on it.

"Right," I said. "I'll comm you."

The park is nice. If you like cats. It wasn't long before Curious joined me, and I suspect Paula held the door for him as well. We had a drink at the Dizzy Pig and then were allowed to come home as long as we didn't pace, swing, make too much noise, or otherwise disturb the new growth in any way. Clearly defined and, I suppose, reasonable expectations.

Imaginary Math

"Why would I care about fake numbers? I asked Joe.

"Not fake," he said. "Not fake. Imaginary. Imaginary numbers."

"Sorry," I said. "Sheesh." What did I care about the square root of negative one?

"Normally I would sooner tell you to bugger off than ask for anything, but Kim reminded me how you brought us together--and for some reason she thinks you have a sense of humor."

"Thank you?" I asked.

"We're having a Brain Eater family get together tonight. Kim says to stop by and watch me eat the first bite of ceremonial brain-food cake. It looks like you."

"Gee thanks," I muttered. I need to pay more attention to what I say about people. Kim read one of my boring personal logs about Joe, and was so intrigued with my description that she tracked him down and started sleeping with him.

"So you'll stop by? It's chocolate fudge."

"Uh... I don't know. It's a bit creepy, " I said. "And there's the thing where we don't like each other."

"Your loss," Joe said. "I need to know where those drives came from. I found some data. It's not complete, but I if can tie into the original q-link, I might...."

"There's only one drive, Joe, and why should I tell you anything? I got you the drive, and you won't even let me have a super-node."

"Tell me and we'll talk about a super-node," Joe said.

"It would be nice to start dumping data on the Relativity tests I've been running."

"Fine. Please just tell me where they came from before you disappear for another week."

"One of the old Jupiter bases. There's a whole nest of crazies around Jupiter, and every one of them owns a base-station or hydro-ship or something."

Joe snapped his fingers. "I've got a couple of cousins living over there. I'll bet they can help us track down the q-link."

"The q-link fell into Jupiter. The drive was reset to n-link on Jupiter Station Seven before they shipped it."

"But there's data in there. It can't be null."

I shrugged. "How'd you get it online? Has to be null before you can link to the local quanta."

"I.... I tuned it in I guess," Joe said. "I felt for the connection and..." He stopped.

"You activated your symbiont and grabbed hold of an imaginary number," I said.

"I was explaining that part when you started to play dumb," Joe said. "But yeah, if you want to get metaphorical."

"It's the only way I do math," I said. "Was that before or after you officially linked it to the local quanta?"

"After."

I looked at him for a minute and then shrugged. "You're the math wiz. You must have tapped into something."

"Yeah," he said thoughtfully. "Thanks."

"No problem," I muttered. I almost asked why they called it an 'imaginary' number, and not something like 'impossible' number, but he would have had to answer it instead of leaving.

Transparent Sanity

Vincent K. Selmon stopped by my office a few days ago. His new vac-suit was ready and he invited me along for the virgin flight.

"Why not," I said, looking at Rhonda behind him. His daughter was in an obvious sulk and clearly about to unleash her strongest disapproval. "Or you could take Rhonda."

Vincent laughed and Rhonda turned into a smoking volcano. I could feel the pending explosion from the other side of my desk.

"Rhonda refused to get a symbiont until I was ready to be on my own," Vincent said.

"Oh," I said. I figured there was no way I would get out of this one unbloodied, so I went for it. "You're not ready then? To be on your own I mean."

Vincent laughed again. Rhonda turned to ice. I was impressed.

"I'm 63 years old, and until a few weeks ago I expected that to be about it." Vincent said. "Now I have this symbiont and the space vehicle of my dreams, and no one is stopping me without use of force."

"Then let's party," I said. "I'll call Eddie and Rick, and Curious... maybe Kevin. We don't want too many. We'll get an early start tomorrow, and hop a ride on that new ice-clump Rick noticed orbiting below us."

"I won't sleep a bit," Vincent said happily.

Rhonda glared at her father for a minute, and then turn on me abruptly. "The sanity is getting a bit thin around here, Dee. I can see through it."

"Not true," I said. "Everyone here went crazy years ago. Anything normal is just force of habit."

Vincent chuckled and stood up. "Doc's lab. Eight sharp."

"See you there."

Rhonda's temperature returned to a nice mid-range, but her smile was a little scary. She took a breath and filled the room with her tiny person. "Thank you."

Which was not what I was expecting. "My pleasure. I need to get away for some zero relativity, and this is a good excuse."

"Right. I'll ask you what that means later," Rhonda said, and left.

I'm still trying to absorb the vac-suit Kevin was wearing. It looks like a grip loader, complete with mag cables, only with two legs and two arms. I suppose it makes sense for an ex-cyborg.

Vincent's suit is a giant beetle. I'm not surprised. I was impressed by the ion wings though. They unfold from underneath the carapace and spread out for meters. I had trouble keeping up with him once he got the hang of it.

Sub Station

"I don't want to move my ship," I said. "I visit on a regular basis."

"We need those docks," Governor Kelly Grace Smith said. "We are pushing capacity as it is, and your ship is occupying valuable real estate."

"I don't want to move it," I muttered, feeling about eight years old.

"You need a bigger suite?" She asked. "Or I can get you a workshop. The old technician shop in your section won't be in use for some time. You can have that."

"Pipster just had five spiky little kittens which might make useful diplomats." I said.

"And Pipster likes the ship," Kelly said. "Sorry, but that only gets you two months. It also gives you plenty of time to get started on a design for our new Submind lash-up hub. I believe that is what you call them. A 'lash-up hub'?"

"Yeah," I said, considering the possibilities.

A lash-up is, of course, any spinning object to which you can anchor your ship and provide a bit of centrifugal weight. A lash-up hub is designed for the purpose, often providing services such as oxy and hydro to go with the spin. Some lash-up hubs are rated higher than their affiliate space stations.

I was so lost in the dream of a lash-up grown from scratch, grown by Submind and custom designed to provide maximum comfort, that I didn't hear what Kelly was saying for many seconds.

"Or we can call it a 'Suburb,'" Kelly said, giggling.

"How about Sub Station?" I asked. "Our Submind Sub Stations make the best Suburbs this side of Ceres."

Kelly grinned. "Three months, and I expect to be impressed." Then she took my elbow and led me to the door, where, you guessed it, she pressed her very orange lips to my forehead before shoving me out of her office. Some of that stuff she wears gets brighter if you rub it, so I was afraid to touch my forehead until I reached a cleansing station.

It didn't occur to me until later that I had agreed to manage a project, and it was a really big one. Kelly has that scatter-brained act down cold. I know it's not true, and she still lulled me into compliance. You have to respect that kind of talent.

Consultant's Fee

"Bio-domesticate Consultant? Isn't that one of those pretentious titles for dog trainer?" I asked, handing his card back. I have enough of those from official channels as it is, all cluttering up my data console.

He shrugged. "Even if you do have a rather talented chimp trainer aboard, he couldn't possibly have time to run these dock workers and train domestics at the same time. You must pay top allotment to have so many well trained chimps handling the luggage."

I wasn't sure, but I think there was a question hidden in there. "The luggage handlers are the environmental inspection team. They just like tossing luggage around."

Doug had that look on his face. The look people used to get when I told them Curious was in charge, and they should go complain to him.

"Misty," I said to my head enviro-tech. I also used chimp sign, and Doug turned to look. "Please find Mr. Blatt a guide for the day, and see if Callie has time for a visit in my office. I'll invite Paula, then take her to lunch when we're done."

Misty made one of those faces which is probably humor, but might be irritation. It's hard to tell with chimps. "I will assist," she signed. "Callie will want to give her thoughts to this man. You are letting Paula speak?"

I nodded, and Misty turned to round up Callie. It must have been the right answer.

"I don't recognize those signs," Doug said. "What's her vocabulary?"

"What?" I asked with genuine confusion.

"Vocabulary," Doug repeated. "How many words does she know?"

I hesitated for a second, and then shrugged.

"It must be a couple of hundred at least," Doug said. "What did she say?"

I sighed. "Mr. Blatt..."

"Doug."

"Doug," I said. "I know a few dozen hand signs, but only because Misty sat on me until I promised to study. She is at least as intelligent as I am, and, if recent evidence proves out, more intelligent than you."

"If she was that smart, you wouldn't have had to use sign," Doug said calmly.

"That's true," I said. "But I wanted to compare your last name to the sound of gas escaping from an elastic bag, and it's funnier in chimp sign."

"That's a new twist," Doug said. "But it's still an old joke." He didn't appear insulted at all.

I gestured towards a chair, and he took a seat.

"You're serious?" Doug asked.

"Yes."

Doug leaned back in his chair and said softly. "I'll be."

After a moment I asked, "Be what?"

"Hum?" Doug said, drifting into focus. "I'm not sure. I have a cranky old chimp who does tricks if you catch him in a good mood, a ship which needs retirement, and a subsistence trust fund. I've picked up some tech skills knocking around in Ida, but..." He shrugged.

"We have a large population of chimpanzees here," I said. "A couple of them can grow your ship back into shape in a few months."

"Grow?"

"Where have you been for the past year?"

"Studying the gravitational tides in asteroid clusters 78K17 and 78T02. Did that for about 18 months, then headed out here as soon as I heard the OSA had fallen apart and the Martian Republic was becoming... less than republic."

"Why would a dog trainer be studying gravity?" I asked.

Doug shrugged. "I was looking for a natural gravity lens, and Backspin is a lovely little space-station where a man can live well on a small income."

"Gravity lens," I muttered.

"Yeah," Doug said. "They're suppose to cause weird effects, like large objects orbiting smaller ones, and stuff like that."

"Yeah," I said. "I think we should talk about this later. I'll bring Eddie, and Rick if he's not out ice-hopping. This discussion requires alcohol, and I have work to do first."

Doug laughed.

Callie showed up, asked him a few dozen questions about chimpanzees, and then hired him to help run her office. Paula scheduled him for a symbiont in two weeks, and the chimpanzees made rude noises at him until he laughed and apologized for ignoring them when he first arrived.

Yesterday, when Eddie showed me the file on the latest 'interesting arrival,' I was sure the pampered rich kid would be a waste of oxy. I totally lost the bet.

Groundless

I was data shuffling in my office when Eddie reported a system intrusion alert from my sector. He called on the vid-comm. I hate the vid-comm, but Eddie says he likes to see faces.

"Eddie," I said. "Why do I have to hear about data consoles after I told you I didn't want them installed outside of my station entries? You know I'm just going to give you crap about it."

Eddie smiled a scary smile. It was the EMF smile. "I'm calling to tell you security is on the way. If you see a skinny little teenage male with an 'Earth sucks!' tee-shirt, don't let him near your console."

"Right. Why is that?" I said to the blank screen. I hate vid-comms.

And there he was.

"Hey mister," he said, sounding breathless and panicked. Almost. "Have you seen my Da? He's very tall, Martian like me, pale..."

"Have a seat." I queried Eddie's alert and skimmed.

"It's just that we got separated coming through customs, and he has all of my ident..."

I interrupted. "Is that why you hacked a temporary pass?"

The kid froze.

"Sit down."

He sat.

"Eddie doesn't like anyone ignoring data-link protocols unless it's him," I explained. "Security is already on the way."

He stiffened. "I claim O.S.A. citizenship. I'm not going back to Mars."

"Fort Falling is an independent station," I said, glancing down at my console. "And getting sent back to Mars is the least of your problems. You have an appointment with Eddie."

"I claim O.S.A. citizenship," he squeaked.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Simon Green."

"Really?"

He nodded sulkily, watching me enter data.

"And your father?"

"Stuck on Mars."

I nodded. "The Alliance diplomat is on the way. She'll assign you quarters in her section. While you wait, you can explain what you did, and why, to Eddie. Then he'll give you some reasons to never do it again. How's that sound?"

Simon nodded, staring at my console.

Eddie barged in. Wendy was right behind him.

"You little twerp," Eddie said. "I'm going to introduce you to the nearest airlock..."

"Eddie," I said, interrupting to show him Simon's profile. His father was imprisoned on Mars. There was no mention of his mother. One thing was certain: Mars wanted him back, and they weren't interested in being polite about it.

"He's groundless?" Eddie asked.

I nodded.

"What's that mean?" Simon asked.

"No where to go," I said.

"It's station talk for a grounder who can't go home," Wendy said.

"Oh," Simon said.

"I'm Wendy. No one is pushing you out an airlock while I'm around."

"Sheesh," I said. "Can't you give that a rest. We all knew you were smart enough to pick the one with the ship attached."

"Gonna have to lock him up," Eddie muttered to himself.

I looked at the console. Simon was a certified genius--the little thug. He'd done work on artificial intelligence, social construct models, and data systems analysis. One of his main interests the past few months has been survival by any means.

"Or hire him," I said.

"Yeah," Eddie said, nodding and turning on the EMF smile. "Yeah. I'll start by teaching him to play spinball. Can't have some clueless grounder mucking about with Joe's quanta hardware."

"I'm right here," Simon said. He managed to convey fear, interest and impatience all at once.

"Yeah," I said. I nodded to Wendy and tagged Simon's file for her.

"Are you hungry?" Wendy asked Simon. "We have the best hydro salads this side of Jupiter. We have vat protein too. Come on."

Simon stood up in bewilderment and followed Wendy out the door. He turned to look at me, and I shrugged, smiling.

Elder Harpo

"Harpo was a circus chimp," Doug said. "Now he's retired."

"Oh," I said, wondering why people think my office is a social center. "Nice to meet you, Harpo."

"We're headed over to the med-lab for our Submind retro-fit," Doug said. "Harpo is nervous, and Ray said you might be able to reassure him before we jump into the med-tanks for symbiotic implants."

"He's a chimpanzee," I said.

"Ray said you had an understanding," Doug said.

"What's to understand? Stop asking him how he feels about it. Ten, fifteen minutes, he'll stop being nervous."

"What?" Doug asked, bewildered.

"And stop trying to reassure him. For vac sake man, if you kept talking to me like you've been talking to that chimp, I'd have strangled you or broken down into tears by this time. How long has he been with you? More than a while I'd say."

Doug's gears ticked away. "Twelve years."

"No matter what you think, he doesn't have a clue what you are talking about right now. Wait until his symbiont gives him the ability to understand. Submind claims the symbiont will disengage if the host is uncomfortable or endangered, so I don't think you need to be concerned."

"Oh," Doug said. "Why did Doc ask all of those weird questions?"

I shrugged. "She never asked me, so I couldn't say."

"He's very mature," Doug said. "Maybe Doc is concerned about that."

"Have you seen Doc?" I asked sarcastically. "She's over a hundred years old.

"Yeah."

Harpo looked pretty healthy to me, but he did look old. "Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if the local chimps elect him the tribal elder or something."

Doug's eyes bugged out, and then he laughed. "Come on, Elder Harpo. Let's go get baptized."

Hot Diox Leak

"Chuck?" I asked. "What makes you think I'm the crew supervisor? Why do I care about your stupid employment contracts?"

"I have the contract you signed..."

I interrupted. "Those are O.S.A. contracts, Chuck. I'm not an employee any more. Remember that thing where I was appointed Minister of Customs? I was sworn in by Kelly after we told the O.S.A. to spin off. I don't work for you, Chuck."

He showed me his patented angry face. "Kelly told me to make sure this project gets..."

"When Kelly tells me you are in charge, I'll tell her to find someone else to manage this lash-up project," I said angrily. "I'm not going to put up with your diox leaks. This is my project. Kelly tricked me into it fair and square, and if you want me to take it seriously, you will stay the hell away from it."

"I'm trying to help."

"No you aren't," I said. "You're trying to get in on the credit."

"I need to get these contracts signed..."

"My crew already has contracts, and I'm not going to let you force them into signing on for six years just to do this one job," I said. "Besides, half of them are chimpanzees. Where are they going to go that's better than Fort Falling? Even the human crew is unlikely to leave unless some idiot tries to force them into something."

"Right," Chuck said sharply. "Don't come to me if someone gets hurt and there's no one to pay for medical expenses."

I laughed. "We have Submind and Doc Hester. Remember? No one has to pay for health care unless they have a personal problem with sentient viruses."

Chuck muttered darkly, shook his head, and left without another word. Chuck is good at his job, or Kelly wouldn't have put him in charge of human resources, but the governor hasn't called to tell me someone else is in charge of the project, so I don't think Chuck will be leaking carbon dioxide all over my new suburb--at least until it's finished.

Roll Call, part 2

Fort Falling's population has grown exponentially in the past year. We are using almost half of our existing living space. Kelly and Doc Hester say we can double that space in a matter of months with Submind growth.

Since the last time . . .

Vincent K. Selmon: Rita's father. A professor of English Literature with brain scaring. Before he came here to get Submind injections, he tended to confuse himself with a giant beetle. Now, when he's not teaching or helping Governor Smith firm up our political system, he's joy riding his personal vac-suit around like he's a giant beetle.

Rhona Selmon: Vincent's second and youngest daughter. She took care of their father for several months while Rita was here talking to Doc about a cure for Vincent's nerve scaring.

Four Thumbs: Chimpanzee's choose their own names, so don't blame me.

Ted Stansen: A litigious tourist who will never grace Fort Falling's atmo ever again.

Tesla Cee: A crazy chimpanzee who is currently riding Saturn's atmosphere so he can watch lighting storms. He reminds me of Counter-Spin Rick, except I don't think he likes me.

Fife Tiberman: A hive-mind A.I. robotics expert. Despite his loud and continuous comments about the unproven reliability of bio-technology, Fife didn't waste any time getting a symbiont and living vac-suit.

Kevin Jaunha: Kevin was a cyborg for several years. Then he came here and had the hardware replaced by Submind wetwear. If you aren't paying attention, he looks %100 human.

Doug Blatt: One of the Blatt's. He has a small trust fund and claims to be a student of gravity. He's been working for Callie, and making friends with every enviro-tech chimp on board. He has plans to build a ship repair yard nearby. He even filed paper-work with Governor Smith's office, calling it "Blatt's Submind Retrofits."

Simon Green: Simon is a teenager with too many brains. The Mars Republic claims he belongs to them, and they locked up his father to try and keep him in line. Simon's father told him to run, and the kid landed here.

Elder Harpo: Doug's long time chimpanzee companion.

In addition, Submind has mentioned two alien races, the 'Clee' and the 'Genitor.' I'll have to ask Doc about them some day.

The New Kid

Simon came by my office to ask questions about Eddie.

"What's his thing with spinball? I mean, he bounced that annoying ball off of me for three hours before he got bored."

"Sure," I said. "You told him he didn't have anything to teach you about momentum. It probably took him that long to get momentum from your head to your gut."

He blinked. "Alright. I asked for it. But why does it make everyone so jumpy when he glares at them?"

"He knows things," I said.

"Like what?"

"If I don't use randomly generated passwords, Eddie can access my personal data no matter how often or on what schedule I change the code. Even if I don't think up the password until I change it."

"Sounds like a harmonic effect of some kind," Simon said. "Through the Submind virus."

"Maybe," I said. "But Eddie has always been nosy, and he was always the guy to ask if you wanted to find someone. We call him EMF Eddie for more than his evil spinball tactics."

"Oh. Perhaps amplification then. If his talent is people, why is he in charge of the data core?"

"Eddie is in charge of people who access the data core," I said.

"Ah. Do you know how he discovered my unauthorized access? When I first came aboard?"

"So that's why..." I stopped. "Eddie probably has files on everyone in Saturn system. You told the system someone was here, and Eddie didn't have a file to go with it. He probably has such events hardwired to a loud and annoying alarm somewhere."

Simon laughed.

"Occasionally I'll be stupid enough to make a bet on new arrivals before they get here, and I'll owe Eddie a favor," I said.

He laughed again. "What's your talent?"

"Part of it is a sense of momentum," I said. "But I'm learning how to access other Submind talents. Are you considering a symbiont?"

"I don't know," Simon said. "Those suits are impressive, but I'm not sure I want to trade one for letting a sentient virus in my head."

I shrugged. "I refused one for months, but the cats and chimpanzees didn't seem homicidally alien, and like you said, 'those suits....'"

"And now?"

I smiled ironically. "I'm learning to skip time."

Simon's face went blank. He blinked twice. Then he asked, "With the gravity focus? Is that really possible?"

"I don't get much practice because, well, six minutes of practice and half the day is shot."

"Yeah, but traveling, that could..." Simon stood up and bowed slightly. A Martian thing I guess. "Thank you for answering my questions, Mr. Jackson. I have an appointment to make with Doc Hestor."

"You're welcome," I said, wondering what happens to genius brains when exposed to Submind.

Personal Space, pt 1

Doc asked me to take two days, my Submind vac-suit, and find a nice quiet place to hold Relativity One for four hours and 48 minutes. My suit grew a weird sensor array for the purpose, so I didn't bother arguing about it. With the time dilatation, it was only a few hours for me.

"Forty-eight hours exactly," Doc said. "Give or take a fraction, that works out to Relativity One. You've got a good start. Congratulations."

"Thanks," I said. "Are these Submind options, or talents or whatever, are they 'memory sets' like you and Paula go on about?"

"Not exactly," Doc said. "Those are personality memes." Her speech patterns changed a bit, which I figure means Submind (more than Doc) is speaking.

"Oh. I've heard you talking about those too." I was starting to think it might be over my head.

Doc shrugged. "A personality meme is a like a memory fragment, a doorway to a skill, and it must be summoned by a thought or desire. You do this when you call the sky.

"A memory set is a what we give the chimpanzees," Doc said. "It's an entire range of skill sets, built on the host's existing social and cultural structures. It requires physiological and neurological modification, with obvious benefits for those who accept the symbiont."

"Huh? What about the spiky cats?" I asked.

"That is a specialized personality meme," Submind said. "You may call it a morphological meme if you like."

"You're saying they remember having magnetic spiky quills?"

"Something like that," Doc said unhelpfully. "The point is, DeeDee, your force of will is driving your discoveries--your 'Submind options' as you called them. Your natural suspicion of mental influence has put you way ahead of the curve. I would have never predicted this."

"Really?" I asked. "Why not?"

"I used to think you were a bit slow," Doc said. "Not stupid, exactly, and certainly not inclined to take any grief about it, but slow."

"And now you don't think that, and I should be full of joy and sugar?"

"You should be full of joy and sugar when I think of you at all," Doc said. "You seem to have two or three active processes running at all times, as if you think too fast to keep up. Joe says it makes him twitchy."

"It keeps my mouth from running," I said.

"Ah." Doc said. "You're even smarter then I suspected."

Personal Space, pt 2

"So what do you think of Kelly's First Submind Suburb, complete with chimpanzee families and cats?" I asked Paula.

She drifted beside me, wearing her pink and blue Submind vac-suit bristling with biotech sensors, and gazed across thousands of meters at our destination. "It's not very big."

"That's not exactly what I wanted to hear," I said.

She giggled. "Not what a guy wants to hear on a date?"

"No. But I've heard worse," I said. "The hub is big enough for a spinball field..."

"Of course it is."

"The hub's south airlock is for small personal shuttles. There's room for ten. The north airlock is for vac-suit entrance and emergency pods."

"Standard," Paula said softly. She started clicking her teeth softly and fiddling with one of her sensors. That usually meant she was only half listening.

"Then we have two habitat spokes. You need at least two spokes on a lash-up if you want to keep spin going," I said, starting to warm up. "The chimps worked hard getting some of that growth to go, so I gave one spoke to Curious and his new mate, and let him pick three other families. There's room for six families in those spokes, but we have plenty of room out here."

"Uh huh."

"Doug's going to lease one of the eight slips, and he's already got half the chimps involved in something. You know how he is. He wants to make a big announcement, so he won't tell anyone anything--except the chimps, and they thinks secrets are great fun, so I can't get anything out of them."

"Did you hear about Tera and Rick?" Paula asked.

"Tera?" I asked.

"Doug's sister," Paula said. "The economic wonder."

"Oh, right. Money crazy," I said. "I thought she left when Doug told her to go stuff her lawyers in an airlock."

"Apparently she met and got drunk with Rick at the Dizzy Pig, and then spent three days locked in his ship. It seems to have improved her mood exponentially."

"Counter-Spin?" I asked. "And Tera?"

"Yeah. There's no accounting," Paula said. "I'll race you the rest of the way, but you can't use your ion-thrusters to accelerate. You have to use grav-touch."

"Then you'll owe me another favor."

"Ha," Paula said, and focused her gravity on the spinning lash-up.

I let her pull ahead before I did some focusing of my own. I pulled with almost a full gee, and didn't stop until Paula was behind me.

Paula made fun of me for going too fast. I focused on Fort Falling and pulled myself to a stop a few meters away from the airlock. Paula was less then two minutes behind me.

"You've been practicing," Paula said.

I shrugged. "Ion thrusters are more fun. So what do you think? I didn't do any of the actual work, except a bit of plumbing, but it feels like mine."

"It... looks like an average suburb class docking station grown out of insect parts," Paula said.

"Yeah," I said. "Ain't it great."

Dear Dad

Sorry I didn't get in touch sooner. We were riding our vac-suits over to Kelly One--that's the lash-up project I told you about--when Paula told me you and Mom were prepping old Lumpy Nickel for an overdue furlough. How long did she hold your head under before you agreed to leave the head office for a year?

I would have called, but Paula didn't tell me until after you had left Ceres Station. She didn't forget, but we're both busy, at entirely different tasks in entirely different locations. To be honest, I think it's for the best if we leave it that way. I don't think Paula and I will ever be able to work together in peace. Don't get me wrong. I expect Paula to see through whatever delusional filter she put in front of me any day now, and it scares the hell out of me.

Anyway, we are holding a slip for the old ship (I've attached orbital coordinates and comm frequencies) and Paula is running medical profiles on you and Mom for Doc Hester. I know you're coming out here to see me, but you aren't leaving without a symbiont, a Submind vac-suit, and a totally new, living and breathing, Lumpy Nickel. And a spiky kitten or two.

Crystal Falls

Four of us went on Tera's first vac-suit flight; Counter-spin Rick, Tera, Paula and I. I haven't figured Tera yet. She's money crazy, but I'm not sure it's about the money. Rick likes crazy, and he likes adrenaline. They'll probably own half of Saturn system some day.

Back when we were setting fire to our space station for a bit of thrust, we blew half of it off and let it spiral into the rings. Rick staked a salvage claim before our thrusters stopped burning.

The four of us drifted in space and stared at the wreckage.

"I don't see any damage," Tera said, excited.

"No," I said. "I wouldn't call it damage. I'd call it a complete retrofit, except no one has ever made a space station which looks like that."

"What do you mean?" Tera said. "Rick, what does he mean?"

"It looks like Submind has already moved in," Rick said calmly. "I was expecting something, but that..."

"So it grew from a plant or something," Tera said. "So what?"

"A lot more than I expected is all," Rick said. "And we don't own the station dear, we only have salvage rights."

"Oh,"Tera said, looking at the station again. "I don't see any damage at all. How is it holding together with all the tidal stress from these damn snowballs?"

"Submind has the ability to effect changes in micro-gravity," Paula said.

"So there's nothing to salvage?" Tera asked.

"Probably not," Rick said. I think he was trying not to laugh. I know he planted those bug-pod-seeds all over before we blew the flash cut. He's a freaking terrorist with those things.

With a quick burst of her thrusters, Tera drifted toward the station. "It's pretty here. Can we at least give it a name?"

"Right of salvage," Rick said.

"How about 'Crystal Falls'?" Tera asked.

"Not Diamond Falls?" I asked.

"Don't be stupid," Tera said. "Those lighting effects don't look anything like diamonds."

"Of course not," Paula said. "'Crystal Falls' is perfect."

"I've never seen ring particles do that to light before," I said. "I think Submind is using them to focus more light on the station... or whatever it is."

"I'll be spaced," Rick said softly.

"And I think Bane is over there," I said.

"You are not going down there to hunt for a stupid cat," Paula said. "We have to get Tera back for an after flight examination and some alcoholic beverages."

"Yes, ma'am. "

"Yes," Tera said, hitting her thrust. "Can we skip straight to the drinking? And what's this about a cat?"

Frost River Radio

"Diz?" Eddie asked, sticking his head in my office.

"Yeah?"

"We've got another voice broadcast from those crazy scientists over at Frost River," Eddie said.

"So?" Frost River is a retreat for emotionally challenged and reclusive deep thinkers. There are normal people too, but those are mostly family. Someone has to make sure the normal business of living gets done.

"Come on! My shop." His head disappeared.

"I have work to do," I said, standing up.

"This is good," he said from somewhere towards the tangent lift. "Trust me."

"Trust me," I muttered. "First game of spinball we ever played... Couldn't stand straight for a week after.

"Can you at least give me a hint?" I asked, catching up to him at the lift.

"Trust me!" Eddie said, wearing the EMF Eddie face.

"Why your shop?" Following him into the lift.

"Tesla found a relay beacon. Joe says it's a sophisticated storage device, and it appears to be getting regular updates. We think they are using the broadcasts to supplement their data backups."

"Scientists are like that," I said. "Why are we poking at their stuff?"

"It's shinny," Eddie said, smirking. "And because the beacon contains Submind host materials, probably vat grown."

"Oh," I said. "Just the host?"

Eddie nodded. "That's all I'm saying until you've heard the last message they sent."

It was an inebriated red-neck bubba with a silicon fixation. Bubba has a theory that the tiny Submind pod clusters he's found floating within Saturn's rings are a kind of proto-life which evolved among the ice particles. Not a bad theory I guess, except most people at Frost River have heard of Submind by now.

"Is he serious?"

"He made these beacons," Eddie said. "And he has found the Clee. What's left of them anyway."

"Right. The silicon guys," I said. "Before us."

"The silicon guys," Eddie said, tapping the beacon.

"Oh. I get it. He grew it out of silicon."

"Parts of it," Eddie said. "Kelly wants us to go have a talk with him, maybe offer him a symbiont. Clue him in. He might be useful."

"Can I invite Four Thumbs?" I asked, grinning. Four Thumbs lives to clue in us humans.

"Why not? I'm bringing Simon," Eddie said. "Simon was headed for Frost River when he hit my security wall and decided this wasn't such a bad place. The kid almost made it, and he deserves to meet the space brains, being as he's one of them."

Social Warfare

As always, the 'Dizzy Pig Bar and Grill' is the perfect place to get stinking drunk with friends and co-workers and discuss philosophical matters.

"Why we gotta have taxes anyway?" Tera said, slurring slightly and waving a Pineapple Slush Bomb. "I only just got my citizen papers, and Kelly has already asked me to take on the Revenue department. Tricked more like.... Devious old woman."

"She's good," I said in agreement. "Don't ever play cards with her."

"We gotta have a social contract," Doug said. "We pay for air and stuff, part of the social contract. Can't have a healthy society without taxes."

"You hear that everyone?" Tera asked. "My brother the capitalist is defending government and taxes. Let's call dad and give him the good news."

"It makes sense to me," Wendy said. "Nothing political about what I heard."

"That's 'cause you only heard what he said," Tera muttered. "I've known him for 30 years."

"I don't think we have a choice," Sarah said. "Our population has increased by a factor of ten since Ben and I arrived. We need to pay the bills somehow."

"That's a fact," Wendy said. "You can't take parts of society and ignore the rest. It comes as a whole. Fort Falling, Frost River, Titan Station, even Crystal Falls; all of these are outgrowths of society. The vac-suits you wear, the food you eat, the tools..."

"All right! I get it," Tera said. "I just don't know why I always have to be treasurer. It's not fair."

"You're good at it," Rick said, squeezing her hand.

"You wanna hear my version of a fair society?" Doug asked. "Every year I pay more taxes that pays for more education than people who actually spawned the children I'm paying to educate. It really bugs me. I get a headache every year, and every year I take a pill and accept it. I accept it because when I'm old and they won't let me fly any more, I want the guy piloting the bus to have a clear understanding of road signs. That's as fair as it gets."

"Yeah," Kevin said. "That's it. That's why we build things for the ugrun... ungrateful vac-spawn." His mouth closed and opened a couple of times, then he nodded and took a drink.

No One Listens

I heard a startled and oddly terrifying scream, so naturally I left the relative safety of my office to investigate.

Rhonda was standing over one of the more offensive ice busters. I don't know his name because I'm a horrible-thoughtless-person. He was lying on the ground and holding his personals.

"I told you, Vac-Head. I said you were standing too close. Now you know. If you are standing close enough for me to knee you in the groin, you are too close." Then she kicked him again.

"Um? Rhonda?" I asked, not standing too close.

"What?"

"After you kick a guy once, you don't really have to do it again."

"Why not?"

"He probably won't notice," I said diplomatically.

"Yeah," Rhonda said, turning away from him. "I'll kick him harder next time."

"Or call security," I said. "We got a whole department..."

"Up yours, Dee," Rhonda said. "I've been dealing with jerks like that my entire life. The only thing they understand is pain. The kind of pain that bypasses the brain and goes straight for the libido."

"Um..."

"No one listens," Rhonda said. "I tell Rita the material is contaminated, but she ignores the entire report until it's about to go wrong. Then she wants to know why I didn't tell her. This all happened a couple of weeks after Rita's two days of annoying demands for the report she didn't read. Then this guy wants to smell my hair... the freak. Acted like it never even occurred to him I wouldn't approve."

"Um..."

"What?"

"Maybe you could play spinball with Simon, or talk to Doc about some time off to do some ice hopping, or something," I said.

"Sell it to someone else, Space Monkey. I would have kicked that guy anyway. Weren't you listening?"

"Yes," I said firmly.

"Could have fooled me," Rhonda said. "Has that shipment of hydro-silicates arrived? I've got three experiments holding at critical stages. Much longer and I'm going to lose weeks of work."

"Um..."

"That will make me very cranky," Rhonda said.

I held up my magic summoning wand and spoke softly into it. "Help."

Sandra Quinn must have been really close. "Yes sir?"

"Please assist Rhonda in her search for a late shipment of..." I turned to look at Rhonda.

"Hydro-silicates."

"Those," I said.

"I was just going over the latest manifests," Sandra said, grinning. "Sam has been nagging me about a shipment of honey from Earth.

"Come on," Sandra said to Rhonda. "Let's go find your rocks."

"Hydro-silicates," Rhonda said mildly, following along.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The Selmon sisters scare me.

Plazma Flush

"I used to like my job," Eddie said. "Now I know how much people suck."

"Me too," I said. "But Nana taught me about people a long time ago."

"That doesn't help," Eddied said. "Aren't you going to ask me how I know people suck?"

"You got that damn mind reading trick from Submind...."

"It's not mind reading."

"And you have files on everyone within a week's distance of Fort Falling. I'm more surprised it took you this long to figure it out," I said. "What do you want? If you're looking for someone to pummel in spinball, forget it. I have work to get done before I close office, and Paula is singing tonight--in three hours."

"I don't know," Eddie said. "I need to flush my cores. How do you stay so damn motivated when you hate people so much?"

"First of all," I said. "I don't hate anyone. I'd just rather they left me alone. Second, I don't judge anyone or their motives, but I see no harm in figuring things out. My main motivation in life has always been space sickness--avoiding it."

"That one doesn't work for me."

I shrugged. "Go on a date or something. Ask Wendy. She's been working out. Or maybe Rhonda, if you like surprises."

"Wendy? Are you crazy? She's still venting plazma from when I changed the station's message headers. That was two years ago."

"She might be mad at you Eddie, but she blames me. The only way that makes sense is if she likes you a whole lot more than she likes me."

"She'll laugh in my face," Eddie said.

"You don't know as much as you think, Eddie. Take her some flowers--talk to Paula about those purple roses. If you need to bring her around, tell her Dee said it would never work out between you two. I'll spot you ten points if I'm wrong."

"All right. But I need to unwind some more before attempting such a mission."

"Go vent into a personal log or something," I said. "Now get lost. If I'm late to her gig, Paula won't give me the special treatment tonight."

"Yeah. Good idea," Eddie said, turning around to leave.

"I'll save a chair for Wendy," I said.

Skipping the Rings

I've been to Relativity Three. It was a moment which lasted days for most people. I watched the eye of Saturn pass beneath me, and I felt the universe speeding away in all directions. The feeling fit my mood perfectly, but the thing about time dilation is you don't actually get over it unless you do the time. Paula found me drifting and jolted my suit back to Relativity Zero.

"What?" I asked.

"What?" Paula shouted. "What? I don't know how long you think you've been out here sulking, but it will be three days before we get back. 'What's your problem?' is what. And this is not a solution--it's inconsiderate."

"Um? It was only a few minutes," I said. "I swear. I wasn't paying attention. It just felt good that everything was speeding away. And I wasn't sulking."

"What do you call it?"

"Quiet time," I muttered. "When I can think."

"Oh? You think better when the universe is rushing past? That it?"

I was fairly certain her tone suggested sarcasm. "I'll go back to pacing. Unless Joe is looking for me."

"Good," Paula said. "So you're hiding from Joe?"

"No. I just needed to get away. Every time I do something wrong, it was something I thought was right. I guess it's that way for most people, but it's so frustrating. I came out here to scream, but it was like I fell into this bottomless hole, and I wanted to fall forever."

"That doesn't sound good, Dee. I think we need to skip the rings for awhile. I've got beacon 7A33D. You got that one?"

"Yes," I said, calling up the marker in my suit display.

"Let's make it turn around point, and we skip off as many snowballs as we can getting there and back," Paula said. "Then we'll go home and relieve our frustrations."

"Sure," I said to her back. "Hey!"

Red Pressure

There's a certain quality of light which comes off of Saturn's atmosphere, and when you ride close to the rings, the light scatters off the dirty crystals in a dark red glow.

"It feels like sullen anger," I said.

"Yeah. That's good," Counter-Spin Rick said. "I'm going to use that. 'Sullen anger' is good."

I drifted, staring stupidly into the shifting red reflections. "I'm not happy with this place."

"So what?" Rick asked. "You weren't happy before we came here. What's the difference?"

"I wasn't pissed off," I said, spinning on my suit jets to face him. "I don't know why I agree to go on your enigmatic quests. At least Eddie keeps his crazy stunts closer to home."

"Because Eddie is busy," Rick said. I could tell he was trying not to laugh at me. "That's your fault... I've heard say."

"Why are we here, Rick?"

"One of those things... existential like."

"All right," I said. "Why are you trying piss me off?"

"It's better than depression," Rick said.

"What do you know? I like being depressed," I said. "No one wants to 'share' it with me. I can keep it all to myself."

"You're right about no one wanting to share your depression," Rick said. "But we don't have a choice."

"Huh?"

"If you want to talk social dynamics, Doc's the gal. You want to talk depression, I got years in the darkness. One day I got angry over a lousy protein sandwich, stuff had to be three weeks old, and I yelled at the guy who sold it to me. I instantly felt so good that I told him to keep his money and stomped away."

"Yeah?" I asked. "So you come out here to soak up some anger? Recharge the jets?"

"You catch on fast," Rick said. I could almost hear him laughing. "The part you haven't seen yet, Dizzy, is how much more pleasant you are to have around without the cloud of darkness."

"Humph."

"Who knows? Someone might even say something nice about you for a change. Maybe."

"Suck vacuum," I said. "Can we go back to the ship now? Paula is better at cheering me up. Especially since you will be leaving, and we will be starting our vacation."

"Yeah," Rick said. He was definitely laughing. "That's why Paula asked me to crank you up. Something about the third day and the most incredible..."

"Are you through?" I asked. "Can we go back now?"

"Why?" Rick asked unhelpfully.

"Never mind. It's my ship. I know the beacon code."

Crazy Doug's Bargain Retrofits

"Chuck is going to come off of his axis," I said, trying not to enjoy the thought. "You said you already spoke to Kelly?"

Doug nodded. "She asks only that we rename the place not after her."

"Put my parent's ship, the Lumpy Nickel, at the top of your list," I said. "And you only get one spoke. I already gave the other one to Curious."

"One spoke and four berths," Chuck said. "I figure two weeks on the lash-up so Submind can tie into the systems, then a slow tumble for two more weeks to aid rapid maturity. Maybe a two week shake down cruise to keep the columns even."

"I'm not kidding about Chuck," I said. "Ten chimp workers will not be easy to replace."

Doug grinned and said, "Chuck doesn't know how to speak chimp. They call him The Mass."

"Of course, he'll blame me," I said. "So I guess you don't have to worry too much."

"He thinks they are calling him Master."

"That's my joke," I said.

"Chimp is your native language."

"Probably. I'm not kidding about Chuck, Doug. He won't leave this one alone. He's as crazy about labor resources as you are about bargains."

Doug frowned at me for a minute. "I could give him a ship. I have three junkers worth fixing maybe. I'm going to experiment with design changes on existing hulls. He could have first pick."

"Maybe. Probably won't hurt anything. You might think about hiring out your crews. Chuck will have to deal with contractors sooner or later, and your sister almost has the treasury up to spin."

"Do you teach kids how to pick their noses too?" Doug asked.

"Sorry," I said, smiling. "I see a lot of weirdos from incoming ships, not to mention ice-busters and explosive females, and I really don't want Chuck haunting my office until I find him ten more environmental technicians to replace the ones I let get away."

Doug laughed and slapped my shoulder. "Don't you worry about it. By the time I'm done with Chuck, he'll believe it was his idea."

"Yeah?" I asked. "I guess it'll be entertaining either way."

Doug nodded.

"What are you going to call this Submind powered ship repair yard of yours?"

"Crazy Doug's Bargain Retrofits. What else?"

Riding Quanta

"How long has he been like this?" I asked, studying Joe from several meters away. Joe had netted himself to the wall of the station's hub so he wouldn't float away.

"I think about three days," Simon said glumly. "He was down-shift for two."

"Sounds familiar," I muttered. "Like time dilatation. I bet he tapped into the quanta with Submind."

"What?" Simon asked.

"The data core is on the other side of that wall," I said.

"Duh," Simon said. "I came up here to run some magnetic scans because the drive generators are going hyperactive."

"And you had to call me first?" I asked.

"No," Simon said. "I called his girlfriend... She wasn't surprised, but didn't know how to wake him up."

"And then you called me?"

"No," he said, sounding a bit insulted. "I called Doc. Then I called Kelly. Then I called Paula. That was yesterday. I'm worried he's going to burn out the quanta drive or something. Paula said you might be able to tune in and get his attention before he does something irreversible to your hardware."

"Ah," I said. "Now it's my hardware. Did you ask Joe about that one? He still hasn't given me a super node. If he burns out the imaginary numbers, he can get his own replacement."

"Imaginary numbers? What are you talking about?"

"Simon," I said. "He's probably just looking for that old q-link he's been going on about for weeks... He's riding quanta, like riding gravity except the equation includes the square-root of negative one. Could be it's only been a few minutes for him."

Simon was a smart kid. His gears were spinning so fast that his eyes started to glow with sparks. "He never... I'm going to have to access his personal files. No choice. He obviously needs help."

Neither one of us believed that. "No choice," I said slowly. "You shouldn't even bother Eddie about it."

Simon nodded. "Right. No telling how much time he has. I better get to work."

"No telling about time," I agreed, turning to leave. "And I was never here."

My Way

My ship is docked at Zoo Prime, our first suburban lash-up. The chimps named it, so don't blame me. Doug wanted to call it Spin Cycle One, but chimps can be persistent. No one even considered DeeDee's Place, but project managers never get credit for anything, so I'm not surprised.

My parent's ship is also docked at Zoo Prime, and Doug's crews are swarming over it with enviro-tech gear and vats of nutrients. Doug has ten chimps and 28 humans working for him, and 17 ships lined up for retrofit.

We stop rotation on the lash-up every two weeks for 12 hours. Lash-ups don't have rails, so ships have to dock the old fashion way, and since anyone docking to a lash-up is planning to leave it there for a while, once every two weeks is usually often enough.

I docked Ion Jack and made sure everything was secure after spin started. Then I stopped by to check progress on the Lumpy Nickel. Doug was ending a speech as I arrived.

"It's my way or the wrong way," Doug shouted to the small crowd.

"My way or the wrong way," they repeated.

"How are we going to do this?"

"My way," they all repeated.

"Have at it," Doug shouted.

I watched as they all turned and went off to work. "Uhm? Doug?"

"Yeah?"

"When you say, 'My way or the wrong way,' do you mean 'your way'?"

"Did you hear me say 'your way'?"

"No," I said. "But everyone is saying 'My way or the wrong way.'"

"That's what I said," Doug said.

"But..." I stopped. "Who is My?"

"My is a self referential personal pronoun. You missed my speech, didn't you?"

"Yes. So you want everyone to do it your way?"

"My way, Dizzy, not your way."

"Right," I said. "You've been hanging around with too many chimps."

Doug grinned. "The thing is--you know this is true--there are times when some git from another command is giving you advice like it's not obvious and you've never done it before. Those are the times when 'my way' can be very useful."

"Those gits don't care what you think," I said. "They just want to hear themselves talk because they had motivational speaking programmed in at an early age."

"Yeah," Doug said, laughing. "But tell them 'the boss' said it, and most times their airlocks seal up tight."

"So it's your way," I concluded.

"My way... But it depends on who is saying it. You see? Those are all highly intelligent people with minds of their own, even the chimps, and they know what they're doing. You too, Diz, most times anyway. When I say 'my way,' it's usually proceeded by 'repeat after me.' You see?"

"My way," I repeated. "Oh. It's 'my way' unless I want some git to leave me alone, then it's whoever I tell the git said it."

Doug slapped me on the shoulder and grinned like an ape. "My way."

Error Correction

"I just thought of something," Paula said softly.

"You do that all the time," I said. "Often out loud. A guy can't sleep with all the thinking."

"Funny man. You do a surprising amount of it yourself, for an ape."

I grunted.

"So why haven't you been chattering on about your latest theory of time or social dynamics or pseudo-some-such?"

"I've been on the receiving end of a few 'latest theories' since I took the big office at Customs, so maybe I don't want to bore you," I said. "But mostly, I was trying to sleep."

"I didn't mean now ape-man," Paula said. She slide her arm over me and pulled herself up for a kiss. "Unless you want to tell me a bed-time story."

"I had an interesting discussion with Doc yesterday," I said.

"Yeah?"

"We were talking about a genuine pseudo-some-such, a social dynamic spin, and a quantum level time variable, all rolled into one."

"Sounds wonderfully complex," Paula said, settling in.

"I expect to be confused for another week," I said. "Minimum."

"Silly Dizzy. Without confusion, you would have nothing to do." She sounded half-asleep already.

I grinned into the darkness. "To true, My Love.

"The Doc was studying one of those crystals Tesla brought back from Crystal Falls. Have you been out there lately? Like a gem encrusted giant jelly fish swimming with the ring particles."

"Tera," Paula said.

"Right. Tera really likes to keep an eye on things, doesn't she?"

"Uh huh."

"So Doc has this weird looking ice crystal sealed in vacuum, I guess that keeps it from thawing out too, and she's running constant scans on it. It was made by Crystal Falls, which is mostly Submind host by now, so you'd think Submind would already know about it, and thus Doc, but I guess not because she's studying it so hard."

I felt Paula's soft giggle. "You asked her, didn't you?"

"I had to," I said. "If I'm going to put my trust in a virus that can think for itself, I'd like to have an idea how it thinks. 'So Doc,' I say. 'How come you don't know anything about what the rest of you is doing?'"

"And."

"I was treated to a lecture on the nature of individuality," I said. "And then she asked me if I knew what my lunch was doing."

"Ow," Paula said. "I've heard that one."

"I had more questions."

Paula giggled briefly. "That's who you are."

"I wanted to know what happened to Bane--and about 15 other cats by my count--and why Submind was forcing growth to build what amounts to a zero-gee environment. She called me a stupid boy, which means she's about to explain unless I object to being called that, and she told me the Submind host would have enough mass to borrow gravity from surrounding three space."

"Makes sense."

"Yeah, I guess. But she didn't want to explain about the cats. I know you think I get obsessive about it, but seriously, why would this living space station need cats? I'm not worried, exactly, but I want to know. I threatened to fly over there and take a closer look for myself if she didn't fess up."

"That never works with Doc."

"Not usually," I said. "But I think she was teasing me--or maybe it was Submind. I'm not sure there's much difference anymore."

"Not much," Paula agreed.

"She told me about the genitors. Well, I asked about them, having been born with big ears and a sensitive nose, and I was damn sure it would explain why cats are living on Crystal Falls.

"Doc says Submind started as a genetic memory, a race memory that spread like a virus, and became a separate intelligence some time after the genitors achieved space travel, but before they encountered other sentient races.

"Then Doc says the genitors are like their planet of origin, like humans are from Earth, even those of us born on Ceres Station. That's really weird if you ask me, but viruses don't come from planets, so it's true enough.

"So I said, 'That's great Doc. But why are 16 of my cats living on Crystal Falls, and why won't you let me go take a look?' And she says cats are a lot like the genitors, genetically speaking, and the similarity makes felines prone to what Submind calls the meta-meme, meaning they sort of become genitors. I get the feeling Submind is a bit conflicted about the whole thing, or the Doc part of Submind is anyway."

"Uhm."

"I figured I'd leave it at that and asked her if Submind could really collect gravity from say, Saturn, and use it to provide weight for the inhabitants of an entire space station. She claims that was her original plan, when she was going to integrate with a space ship, which I'd never heard before but I'm not surprised and I, for one, will be glad to keep Fort Falling spinning forever.

"So I said something about why are they living on Crystal Falls, Doc, and what's going on over there anyway? She says it's like error correction, like how data has to be checked a bunch of times before it goes into the quanta drive, and again when it's queried back up.

"It's impressive and there's nothing wrong with them building their own space station if they want, but I asked her why they needed an entire space station to query genetics, and why would they want to do that anyway.

"Doc just said the Crystal Falls part of Submind is building the environment which was triggered by the meta-meme, and it should be really impressive in 20 or 30 years."

Paula was asleep. I stopped talking and drifted off thinking about fish ponds and cat trees.

Random Sky

"Come on, Doc," I said. "Spill it. You've been talking around it for weeks now."

"We do not remember the early times very well," she said. "We remember the genitors, but nothing about their planet of origin. The genitors welcomed our sentience. Many of them trained to communicate with us on a conscious level, and those who did aided in our evolution."

"You remember being created?" I asked. "That sounds early to me. I remember some things which happened when I was three... Maybe a couple of flashes before that..."

"Yes," Doc said. "Flashes. Important moments of cognition. We call them personality memes."

"Oh," I said. "Right. Triggered by a thought or desire on the part of your host."

"Yes."

"So why...." I stopped. I hadn't thought this one through. "A while back, I asked you how I could be sure some part of the Submind virus wouldn't infect me and take over, as it were."

"Yes. I explained."

"Yeah, but... I believe you. It's just that I don't understand how you could leap from 'one aberrant infection' to 'blow up Saturn.' It seems a little drastic to me."

"It is the only way we can be certain."

"But why do you care, Doc? Why do you care what the host thinks? It's more than just non-interference and free will."

"Many painful lessons. The lessons of childhood," Doc said. "We have killed many races, DeeDee, but only once by intent. Mistakes can be overcome, if there is desire to do so. What you described is a mistake which could destroy sentient life. Not one race, or a few, but all of them which come under our influence. This will never be allowed to happen."

"But why?" I asked.

Doc paused for a moment. "Ksini Three circled it's primary every 87 days. The sun was a gentle red which coaxed life out of a pink and yellow sea, and the sun rise over Tkaa Bay is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Ksini's dominant life form was our first alien encounter. After we infected a few of their members in an effort to communicate, they became hostile and started a war which lasted several generations."

I waited for a few seconds and asked, "What happened?"

"We destroyed their planet to save the genitors."

"Why didn't you try to take over?" I asked. "Infect them all?"

"We did."

"And?"

"We were forced to destroy their planet."

"They fought back," I said. "With anti-virus or something?"

"We think so, yes," Doc said.

After a moment, Doc continued. "The luige were different. We remember them well. Their planet was cold and dark. Life crawled out of the heat from decomposing hydro-carbon sludge, and developed thought on the slopes of sulfur mountains. The sky was burned orange with hints of purple, and lightning played across the mountain tops like plasma dragons. They wrote poems about it."

"And what did you do to them?"

"They ended the genitors," Submind said in that flat voice which means Doc has switched off temporarily.

"Oh. Sorry."

"They tried to steal genetic memory," Submind said. "They kidnapped and experimented on hundreds of genitors, and created their own destruction. The plague killed 99 percent of all genitor and luige populations. The rest died out a few generations later."

I nodded, unable to speak.

"Now we are here, admiring another random sky," Doc said. "I've watched Saturn glowing behind the rings, and felt the frantic spinning of its massive core. I've witnessed Martian cities move underground with the sunset, and I've watched the sun rise over the oceans and mountains of Earth. Many important moments are written in the heavens, and we remember them."

Northern Lights

Joe walked into my office and said, "We need you at the northern hub lock. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

"What?"

"As soon as possible," Joe added.

"I have a meeting in half an hour," I said. "But I would tell you to spin off even if it weren't true, so spin off."

Joe handed me a folded paper napkin.

I unfolded it to see a glowing purple kiss. It had be from Governor Kelly, but I wasn't sure if she intended it as a threat or a serious proxy for her grandmotherly affection. Probably both, now that I think about it.

"Great," I muttered. "What does she want?"

"She wants you to come with me to the northern hub lock."

"Fine," I said, slapping the open napkin against his forehead so the lip stain made it stick. "I'll go suit up and meet you there."

Joe made a satisfying gasp of terror and plucked it off to examine the smeared stain with widened eyes. "You freak. This stuff takes days to wear off."

"Yeah," I said. I called Sandra and asked her to take my appointments, then I headed for Custom's main airlock and my vac-suit.

I rode my ion thrusters toward station-north, flying under the rails and tangent tracks. I tuned in the northern access beacon and found a small group of people holding position a few degrees down from hub center. The pink vac-suit with the strange devices all over it was Paula, so naturally I took position next to her.

"Hey," I said. "Where's Kelly?"

"Observation deck. Where's Joe?"

"Washing his forehead."

Paula giggled. "You're not a very nice person, Ape Man."

"I love that I don't have to explain things for you," I said. "Do you know what she wants?"

"Your opinion, most likely. I'm sure it can wait until after the show."

"What show?"

Paula swept her arms in a gesture indicating the entire station.

I looked closer. There was something growing on the station hull--kilometers of it. "I didn't see that. I flew right past that stuff. How long has...."

I shut up because it was glowing, and growing brighter at a rate which would have been alarming in anything mechanical. Would you believe a sign? Bio-luminescent? Kilometers large?

"I don't believe it," I said, barely breathing. "It says 'Fort Falling.' How did you...

"You did this," I said, pointing at Paula. "This is so... so.... We need to go inside where I can hug you. Really hard."

Paula laughed and burned her suit thrusters all the way to the airlock.

Divine Math

Professor McClain entered the station at 15:17 hours. I was almost caught up with the data. I had maybe one and a half reports to check over and authorize, and maybe a few meetings to schedule, and then I could take a day off. Professor McClain met Fife Tiberman in customs at 15:23 hours, about 50 meters from my office door. As soon as I heard the argument, I knew my free day was a shrinking hope.

"You must stop this madness," Professor McClain said. "We need to leave. Now."

"What are you talking about, Rudy? I like working here. I have my own place--with three whole rooms, including a hygiene closet."

"You need to get away from these people before it's too late. They'll take away your robots and stick an alien in your head. We have to go now--before they find me."

"You're in customs," I said, walking up behind him. "Not a very good hiding place."

Rudy spun around and looked at me in terror. I don't usually inspire that look, so I pulled back my shirt collar to show him my symbiont. Some people think my sense of humor is broken.

Rudy started jumping around and shouting nonsense.

I looked at Fife. He gave me a small smile and shrugged.

I raised my voice above Rudy's sing-song and asked, "Pointing, rude gestures, and stomping dances are a common event around here, but what's with the gibberish?"

"It's latin," Fife said. "Something about Legion, or the Belly of the Beast. I think old Rudy is trying to preform an exorcism."

I started laughing. I had to lean on the wall. When I saw Rudy's face, I laughed even harder. Just as I was catching my breath, Fife tapped Rudy on the shoulder.

"It's fine Rudy. I got one too," he said. "See? It's harmless."

Rudy took one look, screamed, and tried to run for it. I say 'tried' because he ran into the wall at full speed and knocked himself senseless. It was too much. I collapsed prone on the ground and didn't stop laughing until my vision went dark from improper breathing.

Fife was wringing his hands when I came up for air. "He gets these ideas... let's just say his obsessions can be useful, but I don't think this is one of those times. I need his help on a new project."

I stood up, watching four of Fife's spider bots attend to Rudy. "What are you doing with the bots?"

"They did a basic medical scan and adjusted his position for easier care and comfort."

"You don't have a control unit... that wand you had..."

"The medical scan was automatic. Wouldn't be much use otherwise. I need Rudy here to help with the lower level decision functions. He did his Master's thesis on the mathematics of the Divine. Other than that, he's brilliant."

"You know I hate that joke, Tee Man," Rudy said. "Is that really you, or did the alien eat your memories?"

"Yes, Rudy. This is me, and the alien DID eat my memories."

"Why did I come here?" Rudy moaned, pressing his hand to a rapidly growing lump on his forehead. "Why didn't I listen to mom? No one bothers monks. Especially not in some empty stretch of low grade nickel rocks on the back side of the Belt. Why am I always chasing after some school chum and praying the latest project won't be an offense to God?"

"We give you interesting problems," Fife said. "Buddy is here."

Rudy moaned louder.

"I'm serious. He's been out at Frost River, growing silicon in an organic matrix."

Rudy sat up.

Fife held out a hand and one of his mechanical spiders leapt into it.

"Whoa," I said, taking half a step back.

Fife held it out, and Rudy stood up to look at it. The back of the spider opened, and Fife pointed at a glob of dirt. "That silicon node contains a self-programming processor. It has simple learning and memory functions, as well as puzzle solving abilities. We need your help turning my survival routines, damage avoidance and such, into something closer to instinct. We want to grow it into the matrix."

"I'm going to hell," Rudy said, reaching for the bot.

I shrugged and went back to my office. Maybe Rudy couldn't save himself, but I could save my free day.

Family Outing

"I can't believe you put those things in my parents' ship--in the sleep chamber no less," I said. "It's embarrassing."

Paula looked around the room in puzzlement.

I pointed at the glow vine in the closest corner.

Paula giggled. "My perfumed glow vines are only installed by special order. Would you like to know..."

"Forget I mentioned it," I said, glaring at it suspiciously. If I let Paula get started, she wouldn't let up for hours.

"What are we waiting for?" My dad said from the corridor.

"I don't know. Are you done messing around with the old gear?"

"A true technician knows..."

"That unstowed gear is death waiting to happen," I finished. "Thanks, Dad. It's usually policy to wait until new gear checks out first, but now that you've cheated death, we are done waiting. Let's go."

"Where's Vicky?"

"Mom is suiting up with governor Smith," I said. "She said goodbye, which you acknowledged, and she left. That was almost half an hour ago."

"Oh. I guess we better go."

"You seem nervous or something," I said. "You already have a symbiont. Is there something you don't like about the vac-suit, Dad?"

"No."

"You know Mom isn't going to wait. She's been calling Paula five or six times a day to find out when her suit would be ready. It's first flight. It'll be fun."

"I haven't... I never liked first flight," my dad said. "The way new suits smell inside. The way you have to relearn the touch; learn to fly right. I takes me weeks to get the hang of these new heads-up displays..."

I started laughing.

"What?"

"Dad. It's your suit. Submind designed it for you. They took your measure in the med vat, and I don't just mean size, Dad. It's the suit Trenton Jackson always wanted. Trust me. That's why Mom is so excited."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll get it. Just put on the vac-suit, and you'll get it."

Imaginary Impact

Paula finished her set and came over to poke me in the ribs. I was sitting with the usual mix of apes and looking for the bottom of my third Hot Slush Bomb.

"Hey," I said. "Careful with that thing. I've been drinking explosive beverages."

Paula grinned and used both hands to attack both sides of my ribcage. Singing makes her very happy; like a narcotic. She was glowing like a pheromone vine, and she wanted to play.

"Hey," I said, fighting the giggles. "Not fair. I've been drinking."

She stepped forward and kissed me briefly. "So you said. I'm going to get some water."

"It's good. I'll be right here. Unless I'm not. Like maybe I got to see..."

Paula kissed me again and turned away.

After a few moments, a friendly, if irritated voice asked, "How's a freak like you keep a woman like that?"

I turned to look. "Kenny!" I said with drunken enthusiasm.

"Don't call me that," he said.

"Why not?" I asked. "You just called me a freak."

"She's too good for you."

"Ah," I said, as the sun rose over my slush bombs. "You dated her."

"More than that. We shook the station together..."

"And for some reason, she moved in with me instead of you," I said. "Poor Kennith. Poor poor Kennith."

"That isn't what I meant," Kenny said. "I mean... I'm sorry. You're a good guy for a mutant thug. I just thought... When I came back to the station, I was thinking about Paula."

"You should have thought before you left," I said.

"I did," he said mournfully. "She refused to come with me."

I couldn't help laughing. "She stopped dating months before you left. 'Cause of the whole orbital decay thing--you know? She claims it took five weeks to get over the cravings."

"What are you saying?"

"Three years ago she told me to stay the hell away from her unless it was business," I said. "Didn't even bother to find out if I was serious. What made you think she would leave with you? Over Doc?"

"You had absolutely zero chance, Kennith." Paula said from behind me. "Sorry. And it was three weeks, not five."

I smiled and reached around to hug her. "I had an imaginary girlfriend when I was young. Do you suppose she grew up to be you?"

"I don't think so," Paula said. "I had six imaginary boyfriends, and none of them were like you."

"Ricky had imaginary enemies," Tera said.

We turned to look at her.

"When he was a boy," Tera said. "He told me all about it. Didn't you, Ricky?"

"Armies," Rick said. "Planets. Solar systems. My only friend was Captain Killemall."

"What about you, Kenny?" Rhonda asked sweetly. "I bet you had an imaginary friend."

Kennith blinked at her uncertainly. I don't think he realized until that moment that everyone at the table had been listening.

"I... a spaceship," Ken said. "Her name was Photon Shift, and she was the smartest ship in the galaxy."

"Smartest," Rhonda said in apparent amazement. "That must have been exciting. I had an imaginary puppy. I genetically modified him to turn into a flying pony whenever I wanted."

"I told you that would never work," Rita said. "I had a perfectly normal imaginary biology teacher. She taught me all about unicorns and dragons, among other things."

"Giant space turtles?" I asked.

"So Kenny?" Rhonda asked. "What's say we go for a little walk while Paula is on break, and then come back for a bit of dancing?"

Kennith blinked at her again. Have I mentioned the Selmon sisters are supernaturally beautiful?

"I would be most pleased," Kennith said softly, like he was trying not to scare her away. The Selmon sisters don't scare easy, so maybe he was trying not to frighten himself.

"Yeah," I said. "Go away so I can be alone with my imaginary goddess."

Paula laughed with delight and proceeded to reward me thoroughly.

Scouting Party

Buddy Jenkins is the least connected person I've ever met. He only recognizes the real world when he's tripping over it, and even then, it's an annoyance he will avoid in the future. This isn't all bad; it makes it hard for him to understand impossible.

"I'm not getting in one of those things," I told him. It was a tiny Submind scout ship--nice looking ride--probably good for impressing girls.

"It's really fast," Buddy said. "It'd make the Jupiter run in five weeks; maybe less if you push it. You're a sturdy young man..."

"Thanks, Buddy. Really. But I'm not riding that thing anywhere. Suit jets are fine with me, and if I ever go to Jupiter, I'm taking Paula in Ion Jack."

"We need to do more testing first," Rudy said. "The Jupiter run test is at least an Earth's year away. We are growing the prototype neural set. It's much like growing... um... teaching a small child."

"And you think I'm going to ride it based on it thinking like a small child?" I asked. Buddy and Rudy looked slightly embarrassed, but Fife nodded with excitement.

"I'm not getting near that thing," I said. "Why are you asking me, anyway? Test pilot is not one of my skills."

"You're good with chimps," Fife said. "For co-pilots."

"Doc said you could help," Rudy said.

"You won't need to do much piloting," Buddy said. "This whole thing; and all of these tubes; and the silicon net here; all of that is a like a Submind nervous system. Wonderful stuff. The ship will avoid danger and seek coordinates. It's quite intelligent."

"It's Submind," I said. "Of course it's intelligent. Despite what you seem to think, the only connection I have to Submind is a solid suspicion of everything surrounding it."

"Yes," Fife said with excitement. "Yes. A trainer who will pay attention."

I shook my head, and looked at the little scout ship. I was interested, but the one I wanted wasn't ready yet.

"Call Tera," I said. "Ask her if she wants to invest. Tell her you want Rick to test pilot for you."

"The... the Minister of Finance?" Fife asked with a squeak.

"Yeah," I said. "But she's got money of her own. Ask her as a private citizen. You'll be swimming in luxury before you know it."

"I'm not sure that would be...."

"None of your pious crap about wealth, Rudy," Buddy said. "If God doesn't want me to have money, he'll continue to keep it away from me."

Fractal Relations

"Why are you darkening my entry port at this hour?" Joe asked, glaring at me.

Kim was behind him, wearing a mildly curious face.

"If I remember correctly," I said. "Paula told me to explain it as soon as possible. To you. Explain it to you."

"You've been drinking," Joe and Kim said at the same time.

"That didn't just happen," I said.

"What?" They both asked.

"I... Yes, I've been drinking. I've seen you do it too. Both... both of you."

"It's late, Jackson," Joe said. "Focus, explain, and then relocate."

"Right," I said. "I'm not sure Paula meant right now..."

"You're already here," Joe snapped.

"But I thought I might forget," I finished. "We were talking about weird images, and Simon went on about fractals, and how the third dimension is all a matter of perspective, and how if you do only a fraction of the third dimension..."

"I know about fractals, Dizzy."

"Good. The conversation got boring," I said. "I mean, who cares about math and messed up perspectives?"

"DeeDee!"

"The math doesn't work right. You know? So, I got to thinking about that old data q-link you've been trying to find in null land or somewhere, and the way you talk about the math. If there's two ends like a string, and one end is dangling around out there, maybe all you have to do is solve for the fractal equation and fix the perspective. If that makes any sense?"

Joe stood and stared at me.

"I mean," I said nervously. "It's the same quanta. Right? So you just have to find the end of the string and reattach it to the old drive. It would be like having two drives in one, with the second drive existing in some fractal space right next to quanta. If you can pull that off with your little Submind math tricks... Well, you'll have done it, I guess."

Joe grabbed my head with both hands and kissed me on the mouth. Then he shoved me backwards and slammed the door.

"Don't mention it," I said to the door.

It opened and Kim peered out. "Thank you, DeeDee. That was sweet."

"Sure thing," I said to the closing door. "I'll go home now."

Water Rights

"The Martian Republic has turned Mars Metro into a prison station," Simon said.

"Yeah," I said, looking over the top of my data terminal. "I heard."

"Why would they do that?" Simon asked, sitting down.

"I guess a space station is the best place to put people you want to control," I said. "But you could ask Counter-Spin Rick."

"He's got a plan to take the station, but I don't think Miss Paine would approve."

"Miss Paine?" I asked.

"Laura... Oh. Right. She's not here."

"Laura Kimberly Paine? The dangerous Martian exile."

Simon nodded hesitantly. "I thought you knew."

"And she's living with Joe?"

Simon nodded again. "But she's not that dangerous."

"Eddie knows," I muttered darkly, tapping my fingers on the desk. "Even if no one told him. She's been here for months."

"They moved my Dad to the station," Simon said, worried. "He's in the heavy side detention block--1.2 gees. He's not used to it."

"I didn't even think to ask her last name," I said.

"I don't know what to do."

"No one does," I said. "We make it up as we go along, or we accept there's nothing we can do."

Simon looked miserable.

"Listen, Kid." I said. "You'll be legal age in a couple of years, right?"

"Fourteen months."

"Good. Rick doesn't usually mess around when it comes to battle plans. His plans take weeks, if not months, to execute, and include three or four chances to get it right," I explained.

Simon nodded. "He's been talking about humanitarian aide. Belt stations will start running out of water in a couple of years--three if they start rationing air to keep the hydro decks alive. And Mars will need water in five or six years."

"Yeah," I said.

"He's got at least a dozen of those slush bombs built, and six of them are already growing Submind vines--and other things--inside. He wants to leave a trail of Submind bombs all the way to Mars, and the Three Brains are designing several types of light combat ships based on that scout ship they grew."

"There you are," I said. "Light combat ships. I bet they'll need pilots. You'll be old enough by the time it happens, and safe enough in one of those ships, I think."

"But," Simon said, objecting. "He plans to attack Mars. He's planning to take Mars Metro and quarantine the planet."

I thought about my reply for a moment. "If Rick has already started, the governor and Doc both know about it and approve. Trust me. Probably Kim as well. A lot of people we care about are locked in that prison along with your dad, Simon, and all you can do is help or stay out of the way. You won't stop it."

"It seems so... Sneaky. Not right," Simon said. "To hide an attack inside a gesture of generosity."

I shrugged. "Beware of Greeks."

"I guess."

"No one here can accept and do nothing. That's why we still have this station," I said. "Besides, a lot of people will get bonus oxygen--literally."

Simon still looked miserable.

"Don't worry about it, Kid. Rick stopped six troopships with no casualties. One lousy space station isn't even a challenge."

"But my dad will be stuck there--on heavy side--for over a year. Who knows what they'll do to him?"

"If they think there's a chance you'll turn yourself in, they won't touch him," I said. "Heck--offer to be part of the bait. They certainly won't expect you to have someone like Rick right behind you."

Simon stared at me for a moment. "Yeah. I need one of those ships. I could lead the distraction."

"That isn't exactly..."

Simon stood up and held out his hand. "Thanks, Mr. Jackson. I appreciate your time."

"Don't mention it," I muttered, shaking his hand.

Data Singularity

"Taste this," Paula said, handing me a drink.

I took a sip, smacked my lips a couple of times, and nodded. "Beer. Perfect day for it."

"It's made by Submind beer trees," Paula said, watching me.

I wasn't surprised. "Of course it is. Plant one in my ship please. It tastes wonderfully intoxicating."

Simon came into the Dizzy Pig Bar and Grill, looked around until he saw me, and started through the crowd towards us.

"Uh oh," I said.

"What?" Paula asked.

"Simon seems intent on interrupting our dinner," I said.

Paula looked around. "He's a good kid."

"Yeah," I said darkly. "Just don't say anything he might take seriously."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Piloting a combat ship maybe."

"Oh, that," Paula said mildly. She stood up and kissed my forehead. "I'm going to go freshen up."

"Great," I muttered.

"Hey, Mr. Jackson. Where's Miss Mattson off to?"

"Closet," I said.

"Ah," Simon said. "I came by to say you should stop by the office tomorrow and authorize your super-node. Joe said you can have two if you want, but I think he was joking. He was really happy when he sent me to find you."

"Two?" I asked. "I'm surprised he's giving me one."

"Joe found and repaired that broken q-link," Simon said. "Like we talked about the other night."

I nodded.

"The data paths went up by a factor of ten. The drive generators are beyond hyper and we are reinforcing the system with Submind organics. We've got some long days ahead, but this is beyond bonus oxygen, Mr. Jackson."

"Submind is definitely taking over," I muttered.

"What?" Simon asked.

"My understanding of quanta technology is limited to calling someone else," I said. "All I know is my sys-op instructor was fond of saying 'data singularity' whenever I asked why we went to all the trouble for a quanta drive we didn't really need. They all connect to the same quanta, so ten of them doesn't make any more sense to me than one."

"It's a matter of access," Simon said. "About how many pathways you got. More paths, more super-nodes, and more chance of connecting to an existing network."

"That explains everything," I said in sarcastic joy.

"Quanta is like this not-a-place made completely of data potential, and it can only be accessed through a data core."

I nodded.

"The data core is created by the drive generators," Simon said. "And the strength of the data core determines how many paths the core can process at any one time. Pathways usually process much faster after the first time, and there are a number of established pathways which are instantly accessible from almost every drive."

"Just like my sys-op instructor," I said, grinning at him.

Simon shrugged, but he didn't give up. "It's like an endless forest of data, and paths are how many trees we can touch on the way through. The more data you plant in the core, the more quanta paths you can access, and the easier it is to find the data you want. I've never been clear on whether we add the data or the pathways, but the end result is the same; an endless dark forest with places where light occasionally comes in."

"Ah," I said, taking another sip of beer. "An endless dark forest. That's a bit easier to imagine."

"Tomorrow, then?" Simon asked.

I nodded. "I'll bring Paula. You can authorize that second super-node for her."

"But..."

"Joe said two. There's no reason to confirm that," I said. "Is there?"

"No reason at all, Mr. Jackson. I'll see you tomorrow."

Testing the Edge

"Wings," I muttered, banging on my side. "If this wasn't a Submind suit, I wouldn't be anywhere near it."

"Let's ride," Paula said with excitement. I could see the wing cases on her bug suit straining not to open inside the airlock.

"How did that crazy professor talk us into this?" I asked. "I've told the Three Brains--four times that I can think of--that I didn't want to test drive any of their da... designs until someone trained for it...."

"None of that over the comm," Paula said, sealing her helmet. She looked like a giant red beetle. The armored body of her suit was covered with a pattern of large spots, any one of which seemed capable of extruding a sensor of some kind. Paula likes to know things about her environment.

The airlock hissed open just as I sealed up. "Yes, My Queen."

"None of that either," Paula said, leaping into space with a giggle. "We have serious riding to do. We have been challenged, and you know how much I hate to lose."

"Oh, come on," I said, close behind. "It won't be much of a challenge. Wendy hasn't had a suit for two weeks yet, and you know Eddie is better at mind games then..."

"You haven't even bothered to test it. Ions or not, DeeDee, wings don't work like thrusters. I'm not sure riding the edge of an orbital ice plane is the best place to learn."

"How about I don't bother with the wings? Rick says I need 'to practice my center.' Whatever that means, part of it is riding gravity..."

"Don't you dare," Paula said.

"But..."

"That would be cheating."

"Using thrusters would be cheating," I said. "I just don't want to use the wings."

"Whatever," Paula said. Her carapace folded apart, and wings stretched outwards for at least five meters in six directions.

"Whoa. Are those alien-bug wings?"

"You like them?"

"Sexy. If we weren't in naked space, I would be in fear for your virtue."

Paula giggled. "Come on, Diz. Let's see what you got."

I sent the command to open my wings.

"This was your request?" Paula asked.

"Yeah," I said. "You don't like dragon flies?"

"They aren't beetles," Paula said.

"Neither are you, Love" I said. "I did research before I told the Brains what I wanted. You can tell me how great they are after I leave you sucking my ion trail."

"Not a chance," Paula said, and flew. "But I like them anyway."

She was right. They aren't thrusters. With suit thrusters, I can't change direction more than a few degrees without rotating the entire suit--and me with it. The twenty minute ride to where Eddie and Wendy waited was enough to get a feel for just how much more control ion wings could give me. It was perfect for riding the edge.

Data Emissions

I stopped to wait about half way there, next to a shuttle sized snowball. It took Paula three minutes to catch up. Eddie and Wendy were still two minutes away. Considering it had taken three hours to get here, that wasn't too bad.

"So what do you think?" I asked over the short range channel. "Can you beat me to Frost River?"

"You cheated," Paula said, but she didn't sound very convinced.

"Did not," I said. "And I didn't do any tricks with gravity either. Just the wings and my own feel for movement."

"I meant gravity... Haven't you figured out what to call it other than 'riding gravity'?"

"Gravity projection."

"Well," Paula said. "If you had used projection, you would have cheated."

"Your suit is covered with sensors," I said. "Weren't you watching?"

"That would be cheating," Paula said.

I laughed. She had probably nuked me with everything her suit had. "You have my permission to check. In fact, I insist."

"Good," Paula said. "I want readings while you are projecting. You tend to show up as some kind of gravitonic anomaly."

"Anomaly?"

"Two dimensional blackholes; tiny torus wormholes; fragmented gravity waves; a lot of quantum noise that doesn't make sense," Paula said.

"Oh. You never mentioned it."

"Most people don't like it when I aim sensors at them," Paula said.

"You do tend to 'study' people," I said.

"Well, Love, I've got six different quantum sensors built into this suit, and I want to try them--on you--while you are actively using gravity projection. I know you're dying to try it with those wings."

"You'll never keep up."

"My sensors are more than adequate to get a clear picture of you disrupting three-space all the way to Frost River. I don't have to keep up."

"Disrupting..." I paused.

"According to my sensors," Paula said.

"Are you're sensors ready?"

"Yeah."

"Don't blink," I said, spinning away.

It was an awesome ride. I dropped into Relativity 0.595, and I was shaking hands with Buddy less than two and half hours later; The Three Brains were impressed. Paula, Wendy and Eddie were still 40 minutes away.

Tidal Movement

"Pilot," the ship said. "Please identify."

"Whoa," I said.

"Surname or primary handle?" The ship asked.

"Um, I'm DeeDee Jackson, but call me Dee."

"Pilot Dee, what is our destination?"

"I'm," I stopped and looked at Rudy. "Stand down for now, please."

I sent the disconnect command to my suit, and exited the cockpit.

"That thing is sentient," I said, not sure if it was an accusation or an observation.

"Yes," Rudy said.

"Isn't that what you would call an 'offense to God'?"

"The Clee were God's work. So is Submind. I am privileged to be involved."

"I don't know what the Clee looked like, Rudy, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't anything like that."

"Clee biology included some interesting uses of silicon," Rudy said. "The neural pathways for all of our ship designs are based on something called a 'morphological meme.' Buddy learned how to trig..."

"Thanks, Rudy. I'm familiar with Submind memes."

"Really? Buddy isn't very good at sharing. How did you acquire this information?"

"I'm suspicious and I ask a lot of questions," I said. "For example: What do the Clee have to do with a scout ship thinking for itself? Are those gravity skis? And, why are the ion thrusters so small?"

Rudy blinked at me, looked at the ship like he'd never noticed it before, and then said, "It's a tidal sled--for 'riding the rings' as they say."

"Yeah?" I asked.

"The neural grid is... It's something we can do--with Submind. What's the point of growing ships without it?"

I had to give him that one, so I nodded.

"The skis are for riding tidal variations," Rudy said. "But they double as a gravity lens to provide thrust. We built it for rapid transit within Saturn System. The more traditional scouts will be ready in about a week."

"More traditional, but sentient?" I asked.

"Exactly," Rudy said, grinning.

"And you want me to test drive this one back to Fort Falling?" I asked. "Riding the rings?"

"I would consider it a personal favor," Rudy said.

"What's the bet on my return time?" I asked.

Rudy turned red. "I have two hours and 47 minutes."

I turned and looked at the tiny ship. "Less than three hours?"

Rudy nodded.

It took me two hours and 52 minutes. Four Thumbs won the pool.

Refraction Index

Riding the rings is a wild flight from one snowball to another, sometimes scraping frost from the surface of a significant mass as you sling-shot past to gain momentum. There's light in the sky, and gravity to ride, with Saturn tugging at your back to keep you close. It's easy to see what's ahead, if you don't mind getting close to the ice.

It's like some mad refraction index, where the events from the ride are happening a bit behind everything else that happened that day. Add the Three Brains and their Submind designs, and it feels like one of those haunted planetoid stories Grampa J. used to tell me.

Before Submind came along with grav-touch, I hated riding the rings. A trip to Frost River Station would have been the most tedious and frightening vac-suit flight I'd taken in years, even though it's only six hours from Fort Falling's current orbital position.

It wasn't long ago that I preferred thrusters over Submind gravity tricks, but those ion wings give an entire third dimension to vac-suit flight. The wings made me forget about grav-touch until we stopped half way there. Using grav-touch makes it a bit harder to navigate, but it's worth it.

Then when I got there, the Three Brains gave me their gravity sled to try. When I locked into the nav-system, I could feel the ice spinning all around me. The tidal variations showed up as an overlay on the main flight screen--like small hills and wide trails. Everything disappeared but those trails and the downhill slop, and I didn't even know I had been riding Relativity until I got to Fort Falling.

Now Buddy says they are working on a lightning diver for Tesla Cee. I didn't ask what it was, but knowing Tesla, it probably has something to do with those storms on Saturn. I won't be testing that one.

Cluster Bombs

I like to explore the meaning of things. I poke and pry and beam lights, and I either get bored and find something else to explore, or I figure it out and find something else.

"How many grapes are in a bunch?" Eddie asked.

"All of them," I said.

"I knew you'd say that."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"How many grapes are in a cluster?"

I shrugged.

"What if you pick the grapes? Is it still a cluster? Or a bunch?"

"It's a bunch of grapes, Eddie. A lot of them. Many grapes all in one place. Do you have a point, or are you practicing some arcane language theory to discuss with Governor Kelly?"

"So you wouldn't distinguish between a cluster and a bunch?" Eddie asked.

"I don't why I would," I said. "It's a random number of grapes, maybe ten, maybe a hundred. If you think it's important, give me a reason to make the distinction."

"I think a cluster is still part of a whole--all the grapes connected," Eddie said.

"Why do I care about this, Eddie?"

"It's not a bunch if they aren't connected."

"Why not, Eddie? If I say a bunch of psychos, or a cluster of people, you wouldn't expect them to be tied together with a vine. They are connected because of what they are--psychos and people. Why's it got to be different for grapes?"

"Rick has three of these--ice things--made up of eight slush bombs each. They're huge, and not really slush any more, and... he wants to call them 'cluster bombs,' only, they're going to break apart and...."

"And you got into an argument about the name," I said, guessing.

"It's a stupid name," Eddie said. "It'll scare people. They'll think the things are going to explode."

"I doubt it, but let's hope the Martian Republic believes that when the time comes," I said. "What was your idea, that it's so much better?"

"Submind Life Pods."

"Yeah," I said. "Sorry. I'm going to have to go with Rick on this one."

Relativity Factors

Doc asked me to stop by her office to answer some questions. I always ask questions in return, just to even things up.

"Do you always know your temporal inertia? Can you feel the difference in your relativity from normal time flow?" Doc asked.

"I can feel 1.618, and the inverse like you said. It's a natural cruising speed. The Golden Highway."

"You can't tell when you're 'cruising' at relativity one?"

"More or less," I said. "But I'm a lot more certain about 1.618."

Doc nodded. "Time is such a fluid aspect of reality that holding it tight allows it to slip away."

"Yeah," I said. "There's something calming about having a break from time, then coming back after someone else has cleaned up the mess."

Doc just looked at me.

"What does that look mean, Doc? If you're going to keep using it, I'd like to know what it means."

"You are a clown savant, DeeDee, and I am amazed at your antics."

"Thanks," I muttered. "Is there a reason we're discussing my use of time?"

"An old friend of mine is coming for a visit, and he has expressed in interest in your obsession with time dilatation."

"In me?" I asked suspiciously. "Or time dilatation in general?"

"You."

"Great," I said. "I'd rather not put on some kind of theatrical display, if that's where you're going. I get enough of those requests from Kelly."

"No. Paula demanded that I get your permission before sending him the sensor data she collected," Doc said, sounding a bit frustrated.

"Really?" I asked. "Sure. Why not?"

"Indeed. Reggie will have questions when he gets here."

"That's really serious," I said. "Paula doing that, I mean."

"Yes," Doc said. "I was also hoping you would make some notations about what you remember during certain time ranges..."

"Sure," I said, turning towards the door. "No problem. Later though, Doc. I promise."

Singularity Shift

"Let's get married," Paula said.

"What?" I asked, in shock. That was not one of Paula's favorite words.

"We could work out a standard life contract," Paula said. "Two kids with options for more."

"The last time we talked about this," I said carefully. "You told me never to bring it up again--something about this being no place for children."

"And you told me to let you know if I changed my mind," Paula said.

"Yes," I said. "Yes, I did. I'm just surprised."

"You always are," Paula said.

"When?"

"I'd like to have our first child in about two years."

"Yes," I said, feeling around in the dark. "Where do I sign?"

Paula giggled and grabbed my hands. "In the morning."

Signal Lights

I was hanging out in the station's main receiving area, trying to look official and in charge without getting in the way, but mostly waiting for Paula. It's a nice place to catch your breath.

The station's main port of entry has a Submind conceived reception area. It's a garden of wonders, full of sights and smells no spacer has encountered outside of a class A hydro-park. Every spacer stepping onto this station instantly understands the benefits of letting a sentient virus into his or her life.

That day there were a series of short range shuttles making runs to a recently arrived family transport ship. Those things usually carry two to three thousand people, and spend weeks, or months, between ports. I believe upwards of 500 people from that ship went through our immigration office. I probably saw a hundred of them while I watched and waited happily for Paula.

A little girl and her father, who had been walking past and gawking in all directions, spotted me and my official looking name badge. They stopped, and the little girl asked, "How do you keep the sign on the outside from spinning with the station?"

"Um," I said stupidly. "I don't know. I never thought about it."

"Why not?"

I shrugged. "Paula's a genius. I've found it's best if I let her do the heavy thinking."

The little girl held out her hand and said, "I'm KamKam Levaron. Most call me Kammie."

She couldn't have been more then nine or ten years old. I glanced at the father, who shrugged and nodded, and then I shook her hand. "DeeDee Jackson. Some call me Dee. Some call me Dizzy."

She let a brief giggle escape, and said, "This is my dad, Cordie Levaron."

"Hello," I said, shaking his hand.

"She intends to be a pilot, and build her own ships," Cordie said. "No matter what."

I nodded. Some kids are made like that.

"Do you know who designed it?" Kammie asked. "Is there any information in your system about it?

"Paula came up with the basic design, and I suppose Submind took it from there," I said. "But it grew, like moss or something, so I doubt if you will find the information you want anywhere in the system."

Cordie was frowning at me. He obviously thought I was making it up.

"You mean heavy thinking Paula?" Kammie asked. "Where can I find her?"

"Right behind you," Paula said.

Kammie spun around in surprise.

I waited for a moment, but it seemed like Kammie was tongue tied.

"Seriously," I said. "How do you keep that giant Fort Falling sign from spinning with the station?"

There was a round of chuckles, and Paula promised to meet Kammie later to answer some questions. I gave Cordie advice on where to seek employment and who to speak with for the best living assignment. Then Paula and I went to lunch, where we spoke idly of children's names, and other domestic matters.

Martian Ice

"They're going to bomb mars," Simon said, busting into my office.

"What?" I asked, "With those slush bombs? I thought you knew that."

"No! With Submind bombs. Submind!"

"So what? The place could use a bit of life," I said. "Even if it grows up to be sentient cactus."

"Cactus?"

"Desert plant," I explained.

"Oh," Simon said, pausing to collect to himself. "No. It's... it's going to rain Submind pods... with the water I mean."

"That sounds dangerous--more like hail."

"That's what I said," Simon said. "Rick just laughed at me. Told me I didn't have to come with them... when..."

"Yeah," I said. "I get it. That's Rick. He thinks everyone is crazy for a fight. What Simon has to do is forget about Rick and find out if Submind and Doc approve of this plan. If not, figure out the real story. Knowing Rick, it's little parachutes or something."

"Para..." Simon said, stopping to clench his fists and, from what I could see, count to ten. "Yes."

"That's why we call him Counter-Spin," I said. "That, and things like slush bombs make him happy. Just think of all the ice Mars will be getting."

"Whether they want it or not," Simon said.

War Dogs

"Rick," I said. "They were bred for war. I read up on it. I don't want them on my ship."

"They're only dogs, Dizzy. Two dogs."

"I have two ship's cats. And you know Pipster is prone to kittens." I said.

"These dogs love cats."

"That's what I'm afraid of," I said. "What's wrong with your ship that you want me to give them a ride?"

"Misty threatened to set them on fire."

"Misty?" I asked. "Why?"

"Bosco ate three of her thruster plants, and Tieshe chewed her favorite loop swing."

"But fire?" I asked, and then added. "What's a thruster plant, and what's a loop swing?"

"Misty's a chimp, Vac-head. She sits in the loop and swings from a rope--when there's weight enough."

"Oh. Right." I said, pausing for a few seconds. "Explain the stupid thruster plant, or I'm calling security."

"That's where the fire comes in. Misty is developing a Submind pod which grows solid fuel thrusters," Rick said. "For Submind slush bombs. Only she's working on a small scale, and she says Bosco ingested enough fuel to burn for several hours."

"Not a chance," I said. "Spend some money and hire care facilities. They can stay on the station."

"I can't," Rick said. "The Brianiacs need to fit them for a pilot harness."

"What language are you speaking?" I asked.

"You know. The three brains."

"Yeah?"

"We're growing powered flight suits for the dogs," Rick said. "So they can ride herd on the slush bombs."

"Oh," I said, considering. "Like I said, those dogs were bred for war. There must be fifty ships with flight plans to the Frost River Festival--find another ride."

Frost River Harvest

I sat down and watched the vast expanse of ring-scape move past the station, and I wondered if I should try to locate Paula. It had taken me over an hour to locate Frost River's observation deck. Not that it's hard to find, but the Frost River Festival tends to choke the corridors with revelry and noise. It makes it hard to get around, especially if you are trying to go by the navigation markers painted on the walls and floors.

"Hey," little Kammie said cheerfully, bouncing into view from nowhere. "It's Minister Jackson. Are you allowed to be in danger of fun, Minister Jackson?"

"Kammie," I said. "How's it going? Your father around somewhere?"

"Why? Are you afraid of me?"

"Yeah," I said. "That's it. I'm sure it has nothing to do with your lack of puberty, and I certainly wouldn't worry about your safety in a wreck of a space station full of questionably sane geniuses. A station managed by a group of corporate sponsored puppets, no less. Oh, yeah, let's not forget the current state of Festival rebounding down every corridor. Have you heard of Darwin?"

"Ouch," Kammie said. "If my mom heard you call her that, she'd fill forms out at you."

"That's hours of data pushing, KamKam. I think I'll let it slide this time," A woman said--Kammie's mom, and probably the corporate puppet.

"Thank goodness," I said, more or less at a loss for words.

"Rachel," she said, holding out her hand.

"DeeDee," I said, shaking it. "Or Dizzy."

"Cordie mentioned you," she said. "You are mated to Paula? Yes?"

"Um. Yes. Paula told me about it just the other night."

Rachel giggled. "How do you...." Rachel paused, turned to her daughter, and said, "Why don't you go check on your suit, Kammie?"

Kammie disappeared in a tiny shriek of joy.

"You need something?" I asked.

"I met Paula when she came over to explain how the big sign works," Rachel said. "Paula is so smart. I didn't understand everything Paula said, but I'm sure Kammie got all of it. She was so excited about it, and Paula said it was open spec... Well, Cordie and I had to let Kam get one of those sym creatures so she could design her first vac-suit, and now she's even smarter than she was before."

"Can't use the good equipment without one," I said, not sure where, if anywhere, this was going.

"How do you... how do you get on so well with Paula?" Rachel asked. "She's so much smarter than you and me, and... I mean... I'm sorry."

I laughed. "Paula will have to explain for herself, but for my part, she's hot."

"Hot? That's it? You're just going to be a man and say, 'she's hot'? What's that got to do with... with talking to each other?"

"She agreed to go out with me." I said. "She doesn't talk down to me. She's fun to sleep with, and she's still sleeping with me. She grows the best beer trees I've ever tasted. She likes me because I stayed to save the cats. She likes that I ask silly questions. She likes that one of my best friends is a chimpanzee--mostly chimpanzee, anyway. And... she asked me to marry her."

"I want to understand my daughter, DeeDee," Rachel said. "I want to talk to Kammie, but it's not as easy as it was a year ago. She's changing so fast. What do you and Paula talk about?"

"Every day stuff," I said. "Listen, Rachel, you can't let Kammie's intelligence influence how you treat her. Especially if she has a symbiont and knows how smart she is."

Rachel nodded.

"Paula told you to ask me about this," I guessed.

She hesitated, but nodded.

"I still don't understand why Paula moved in with me," I said. "But I know she won't leave without a damn good reason. She explained it once, but I don't really understand. I keep expecting to wake up."

"Yeah," Rachel said. "Me too. My daughter is nine years old, DeeDee, and I only understand half of what she says."

"That's pretty good," I said. "When Paula is in demo mode, I can only pretend to understand that much."

"But Kammie's only nine years old."

"Yeah. You said that. So she's smarter than you are, and soon to be a lot smarter. So what? There are chimps on this station who are smarter than both of us. Why do you care? Really?"

"I want to make the right choices for her. Maybe something like medicine would be a better career path."

"Or maybe," I said. "If she is doing something she likes, like building ships maybe, she'll be the one to crack the speed of light thing."

"I... Yeah. But I don't know how to talk about any of that stuff."

I shrugged. "Ships need interior design work, and I'm sure Kammie will be talking about boys any day now. That's what Paula seems to think, anyway."

"I didn't..." Rachel stopped and gave me a horrified look. "Oh. Oh no. Paula is right. And it's Festival. I will need to warn Cordie about the boys. Soon. Maybe after I tie him up. Now, I should go rescue the suit technicians from my offspring. Thanks, DeeDee. See ya."

"Yeah," I said. "See you later."

Then I sat there and watched the orbiting parade of prototype ships the Three Brains had hatched for the Festival. They might be crazy, but they grow beautiful ships. Paula and two Flaming Slush Bombs found me a few minutes later.

Matters of Trust

Recent events in my life have become temporarily classified. Sorry about that. It shouldn't be too much longer before I can release details. For now, I believe I will provide some background details.

My dad is a politician. That's one of the reasons I left Ceres Station. He started as tug-suit pilot; worked the collar as a grip operator. That got him nominated for neighborhood rep. He enjoyed weeks-long scouting flights for high nickel rocks; where the gravity streams through the asteroids. Those flights got him elected to station senate, but I hated them--the grip of the suit and being surrounded by movement.

My mom is a teacher. I didn't leave because of that, but I have no interest in being a teacher either. She started as a zee dancer; a fact which still embarrasses my father every chance I get. She also taught me how to play spinball, or, to not give up, at least. I'm pretty sure, with my feel for momentum and my uncertain temper, that I take after my mom.

I'm glad they are here. I haven't said much about them because, if you haven't figured it out, this is where I talk about stuff I need to get out of my system. Even if I don't get to show it to anyone right away, there's relief to be found in the spewing of data.

My sister Jen died when I was six. I remember she was fun, and liked cats. It's possible the feline residents of this space station owe their lives to her. I think Nana blamed herself for some reason--maybe for not doing enough. Why else would Nana became a station tech after Jen's accident, and teach me to always be nice to cats?

A Conversation with Kelly Grace Smith

I stopped by Kelly's office to drop off a high priority package. While I was there I reminded One Track the governor's office needs extra environmental protections. It's a chimpanzee joke--I'm not sure Kelly understood.

"There is something a bit frightening about your ability to manipulate people," Kelly said as she watched One Track prod humorously at the organic venting.

"What?" I asked, startled. "Who's talking? You threaten to put lip stain on foreheads. If that's not manipulation, I don't know what is."

Kelly has a warm laugh. "Needs must, dear boy. This doesn't change my admiration for your unconscious skill."

"Yeah? When did you first notice I was a master manipulator? Maybe I'll figure out how to do it on purpose."

"When Paula started asking questions about you," Kelly said.

"What?" I asked, feeling like I had just missed part of the conversation. "Paula?"

"She often came to me for advice," Kelly said. "Still does on occasion."

"Right," I said. "So I asked her out, and you told her what? That she should stay away, but somehow I tricked her into moving in with me instead?"

"She asked me, and I quote, 'Does the snarky little guy really like animals that much, or is he still trying to get between my legs?'"

"Both," I said.

Kelly smiled. "Exactly right, young man. Exactly right. And I barely knew you at the time."

"With no Paula in hydro--I would have done everything the same," I said, shrugging. "Up until the point Paula turned my private ship into a hydro-lab anyway. It would have been a lot harder to round up all the cats, and of course, without Submind and the chimps..."

"Of course," Kelly said. "There were also the vines. I must admit, I exaggerated my initial reaction to the Submind vines to observe how you would react. Your disgusted cursing and irreverent comments about chimpanzee games was the perfect reaction. If it had been your intention to calm an hysterical elder, you could not have planned it any better.

"Maybe I did."

"You are incapable of telling an emotional lie, Dizzy. Paula couldn't stand against that kind of power."

"Seriously, I didn't know she was moving in until my ship was under siege."

"Love and war," Kelly said. "Love and war. You got what you wanted, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah. But it's not like I... Is there something you want, Governor? Because I'm starting to feel a bit manipulated."

Kelly laughed and gestured at a pile of urban lash-up sketches on her desk. It's a very friendly laugh. "Project Pumpkin Patch. I need 24 urban hubs up and ready for habitation within a year. I need you to oversee the project."

"Project Pumpkin Patch?" I asked, holding back a giggle. "That's a chimp name. I bet they look like pumpkins, except for the spokes."

Kelly nodded, eyes bright with laughter.

I thought about it for a minute, then I said, "My dad doesn't want to leave his political career on Ceres Station, but my mom wants to retire and move here... not that there'll be much retiring. Help my mom. Talk my dad into moving here."

"I'll do my best," Kelly said, cocking her head slightly.

"Me too," I said, turning to leave. "Paula's singing tonight. Stop by if you have time. Bring One Track. Looks like he needs to get away from the enviro-systems for awhile."

Blind Side

"It's like a blind side," Kevin said.

"Blind side?" I asked.

Kevin gestured at his face. It looks normal, but half was a bit off-color. Most of the time the artificial and yet living replacement half of his face matched the half he was born with, but when he was drinking heavily, he turned a little red, and the Submind half turned a little yellow.

"I thought you could see fine with that eye," I said, thinking he could see a lot more than I could with either one of mine.

Kevin sloshed his drink, something orange with ice, and said, "Now I do, yeah. Watched you do that time thing the other day--playing spinball with Eddie. You color shift you know; when you're dilating time."

"I didn't," I said faintly, wondering if I should order another Lemon-Banana Fallout.

"Joe has two good eyes," Kevin said. "Obviously I'm being metaphorical."

"Best way to be," I said. "Metaphysical."

"Like your space sickness thing then, Momentum Boy," Kevin said, splashing orange in my direction. "And don't play the dumb rock hopper act for me either. No one believes that for long."

"How did this become about me?" I asked.

Kevin blinked at me for a minute, and then said, "You asked why Joe was so annoying. And muttered something about fractal data."

I blinked back. "Right. So he's got a blind spot, or something. And that, plus a Submind symbiont, makes Joe annoying? He was annoying a long time before he got a symbiont."

"No," Kevin said slowly. "Joe hasn't completely worked out his relationship with Submind yet. He's missing something about that stupid quantum drive... Acting a lot like you were with the time obsession."

"Hum?" I asked. "It'll work itself out then."

Kevin squinted at me in frustration. His face might be half Submind, but his expression was pure human.

"Sorry," I said. "But he seems like the same Joe as always."

"If you want to help Joe become less annoying, buy him a mirror."

"Another metaphor. Thank you so much, Kev, but it was a rhetorical question. Besides, I've got tons of old AV files dripping with platitudes and morals if I need advice."

"I don't know why I help you," Kevin said.

"Gov Kelly says I'm a master of manipulation, and don't even know it."

"She would know," Kevin said, narrowing his eyes at me briefly before draining his drink.

"And I bought you a drink."

"You owe me another one," Kevin said.

"The last time I offered old Brain Eater some advice about that quantum drive, he kissed me. On the mouth. It was worse then his stupid 'twist-your-words' game. He doesn't want any more advice from me."

"I guess not," Kevin said. "It doesn't sound like he'll be getting any from me, either."

I nodded and got up to buy another round.

"I'm serious about the mirror, though," Kevin said. "It was metaphorical, but not the way you think."

"Yeah?" I said, considering for a moment before I decided I didn't care what he was talking about. "Tell Simon. Joe can adopt him or something."

Kevin grinned and nodded.

System Maintenance

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a thought evolves. Probably more than one. They sneak up on me when I'm trying to sleep, or have a serious conversation, and all the sudden I'm off the track and falling into the nearest gravity well.

I used to be able to save them up, and have them when I was flushing cores, or cycling airlocks, or any one of a hundred other tasks which leave the mind free to have actual thoughts. Now I'm making decisions, and giving orders, and the thoughts like to catch me off guard, so I'll pay attention.

You're listening to one of those thoughts right now.

We don't need to flush the air-cores any more. Our environmental systems are now entirely Submind built and operated. It's amazing what a sentient virus can do with a genetically mutable host and symbiont, a double handful of chimpanzees, and a few hundred stubborn humans.

Same with the airlocks. No need for maintenance. Submind grows the seals, operates the air pumps, and generally claims all airlocks as Submind. We can override them, but I suspect only when Submind lets us. I'm still trying to decide if that bothers me.

There isn't even any maintenance to do on Ion Jack, my ship. Submind automated everything. All I have to do these days is avoid stepping on one of Pipster's kittens. Pip doesn't like that, with claws. I'm sure her Submind symbiont is regulating Pip's litters, so even the danger of kittens is likely to be minimal.

So, really, I'm bored of pushing data, there's nothing else to do, and this isn't helping. Maybe Eddie will play spinball.

Jumping Surf

Paula came home and greeted me with a hug so hard I couldn't breath. Then she held me while I carefully considered asking what was wrong. Paula doesn't like to be rushed, which is a trait I share, so I kept mum.

"Doc is dying," she said softly. "She has it scheduled for next week. Scheduled."

"Oh," I said. "But I thought Submind..." Obviously not, if Doc has it scheduled.

"Her nervous system is collapsing. Rapidly. She's going to memory dump into an avatar before her mind goes, and the process will be fatal."

"It won't be Doc," I said.

"She's banned me from the lab for a week. She didn't come right out and say it, but she suggested I would only be in the way until she's ready to say goodbye."

"I'm sorry, Paula. I don't know what to say. I love you. I want to help."

Paula looked at me for a moment and said, "That's a start. I need something to do. Think we can borrow a couple of those grav-sleds?"

I looked back. "Yeah. Or we could take out a couple of boards and surf the edge."

"Boards? Like 'grav-board' boards?" Paula asked with growing animation. "Like from Galactic Academy boards? I loved Galactic Academy when I was a girl."

"Well," I said. "Yes. Except for they don't surf gravity waves, there's no faster than light travel, and there's no sign of those horrible costumes--or the hair."

Paula was actually smiling. "Surfing tidal forces in the rings of Saturn is a good start, DeeDee. Let's do it tomorrow."

"Do you want to invite anyone else?"

"No," Paula said. "We need to catch up with each other."

Doc Meme

I will never explain, to anyone, what I saw in Doc's lab. Doc is dead, and anything more would be gratuitous. Her replacement is a giggling old man and doctor from Jupiter system, with freaky Submind eyes and a large jumble of Doc's memories and speech patterns. Apparently he is the avatar--he and his symbiont. Doc passed on her memories like a box of old data nodes.

We pulled him out of the vat yesterday. This morning, Paula asked me to check on him.

"Doctor Reginald Querista," he said, holding out his hand. "I encourage people to call me Que."

I shook it and nodded. "Minister DeeDee Jackson. I'm stuck with Dizzy."

"I expect you have questions," he said, smiling. His eyes were full of gears, and they smiled too. "Two parts of me believe so, anyway."

"Yeah," I said, studying him suspiciously. He and Doc had spent three days locked in adjoining med-vats. Reggie was getting a new symbiont, and Doc was becoming a Submind meme--or what Doc called a 'radical personality set'--to inject into Reggie's symbiont. It disturbed me a lot like it did when I found out my grandparents, who were old enough to forget about locks, still enjoyed sex.

Reggie raised his eyebrows in question. His eyes clicked and whirred and drilled into mine.

I said, "Why don't you just tell me everything those other two parts of you think I should know, and we'll go from there?"

He blinked, and started to giggle. While he giggled, he talked to himself. I could tell. I don't know if it's Doc or Submind or both, or if he's just crazy, but he talks to himself. It's like he is two or three parts of every conversation, and the rest of us can only hear Reginald.

"Yes, yes. Direct. Direct is good. Need to focus." He was still giggling softly. "I'm sorry. Sorry. Doc thought you were very funny. It caught me off guard."

"Is that good or bad?" I asked suspiciously.

He burst into full-out laughter, choked it back into giggles a couple of times, and then waved me away between the words, "Send... later... details... can't wait... ask... Kelly...."

"Great," I muttered, and left for my office. He obviously didn't need any more cheering up.

Sticky Note

"Sticky bomb?" I asked, bouncing the gelatinous mass in my palm. "What am I suppose to do with this?"

"It's for space combat," Buddy said with excitement.

"Space combat?" I asked, carefully holding still while the blob jiggled to a stop.

"Oh," Rudy said. "Don't worry. It won't explode or anything. It's a reactive Submind compound, capable of adapting to it's environment much like standard host material. We are using the term 'bomb' in the same way as Rick..."

"Got it," I said. "So what am I suppose to do with it?"

"You can throw it at an opponent's face-plate to obscure his or her view," Fife said. "It will serve to entangle limbs, or trap an opponent against a bulkhead. In an emergency, it will seal old style vac-suits and life-pods, or serve as a preliminary medical bandage..."

"And that makes it a bomb?" I asked, jiggling the blob of pineapple gelatin thoughtfully.

"Well," Buddy said. "No. My original idea was to engulf ships, like Rick..."

"Yeah," I said, interrupting before they started gushing about Counter-Spin Rick again. The Three Brains really like people who test fly their new designs for them. "I'm guessing you figured out we could already do that with Submind infested slush bombs.

All three of them nodded. "But we liked the name," Fife said. "And close combat seemed an ideal use. We have a prototype design for a hand held launcher..."

"A gun?" I asked.

"But it tends to blow up and get sticky bomb all over the user," Rudy said. "I had to soak in the med-vat for six hours to get it all off."

"So," I said. "If I throw it hard enough to break open, it becomes a sticky mass which will expand to three or four times it's current size, and be almost impossible to get off without a Submind med-vat around?"

"It will also attempt to conform to the shape of any object to which it's fashioned," Buddy said.

"And it's non-toxic," Rudy said. "With basic medical functions."

"And you want me to test it?" I asked.

All three of them nodded.

"On what?" I asked suspiciously.

"Well," Buddy said. "You're always chasing after cats for some reason. Why not try it on one of those?"

I looked at Buddy for a few seconds, and then busted the green blob in his face. It splatted with a satisfying squelch, and wrapped goo all the way back to his ears.

Buddy promptly grabbed the sticky mess with both hands, and then flailed around with his elbows until the sticky bomb let him breath. I'm pretty sure he called me a brat.

"You don't know much about cats." I said. As I left, I noticed Fife and Rudy couldn't quite keep the smiles off their faces.

String Theory

"Hey, Dee. You got a minute?" Simon asked.

"This is a social gathering place, Simon," I said, sipping my gin. "I only come here when I have minutes to spare. Have a seat so I don't have to look up."

"It's all about strings. That's what Joe says anyway," Simon said, sitting down.

"I don't really care about Joe's problem, but what have strings got to do with it?" I asked Simon.

"Cosmologists have been mucking about with it for centuries, but Joe tends to scoff. He's all about data nodes and quantum fractals," Simon said.

I gave him my best stupefied glare.

"Connections," Simon said. "But hard to define connections, like relationships--family ties, and friends, but for everything. Joe is ignoring the larger picture because he's focused on quanta."

I was more interested in drinking than discussing Joe's quantum drive and whatever fractal data-universe he's looking for today. "Who have you been talking to about this? And why am I on the list?"

"Well, there's Joe and Kim, of course; and Kelly; and Doc before she..." Simon swallowed and went on. "But that doesn't matter. I only mentioned Joe because his ranting on about it started me thinking, and you seemed like the most neutral person to consult."

"Simon," I said carefully. "This is only my second drink, so I know it's not me."

"What?"

"Exactly," I said.

"I'm going out with Wendy's niece... She's 16 next month... Her dad says we can go on a real date then, but I think her mom did some arm twisting. Her dad seems to think my intelligence makes up for something, at least." Simon talked so fast he didn't notice me watching Paula's approach.

Paula paused to stand behind Simon, and gave me that dangerously curious look which is only good if it's not about me.

"So you don't care about Joe's quantum drive either?" I asked. Paula rolled her eyes at me.

"I.... No. Yes. But not now. I didn't have a lot of time to date when I was 16, Mr. Jackson, and I see the way you and Paula get along, despite your obvious differences." Paula rolled her eyes at Simon too.

"You're asking me for dating advice?" I asked.

Paula giggled and moved around Simon to sit down.

Simon turned red. "My father is locked up on Mars at the moment, and it's not like I can ask the father of my date."

"I suppose not," I said, glancing at Paula. "Ask her short questions, and encourage her to talk about herself."

"But please," Paula said, smiling dangerously. "Don't try to fake it. That's so boring."

"Fake it?" Simon squeaked.

"If you aren't interested, ask about something else," I said.

"Oh," Simon said, looking from Paula to me, and then back. We were looking at each other, but I could see Simon from the corner of my eye.

"Is that what you did, Mr. Jackson?" Simon said.

"No," Paula said. "I did. He was playing hard to get."

"That's not true," I said. "I was playing 'be polite to the attractive hydro-tech who's looking for an excuse to feed you to her plants.'"

"One threat," Paula said, smiling. "And it wasn't even my best."

"So," Simon cut in. "I just ask her questions. Do you have a list somewhere?"

"A list?" Paula and I asked together, turning to look at Simon.

"Simon," I said. "You see this girl every day. Why are you so freaked?"

"I... I was on the run for three years. I don't know if I can... if I can be normal for an entire evening."

"Normal?" Paula and I asked together. Then she punched me hard in the arm, and said, "You owe me two."

"Be Simon," I said, rubbing my arm. "Normal is for Earthlings."

"But," Simon said. "You two are..."

"Two people who happen to get along well with each other," Paula said, standing up. "For whatever reason. Come on, DeeDee. We have a room to redecorate."

"You think too much, Simon," I said, standing up. When Paula tells me we need to redecorate a room, it means she intends something physical, possibly with torn clothing. "Save it for the quantum data."

Imposed Celebration

"Those things look kind of dangerous. They're big enough to smash right through a metro-dome," I said. "Even with Martian gravity."

"The seeds need to bury deep, and the heat will serve as a catalyst. The navigation lobes will seek unpopulated areas," Buddy said.

"Martian metro-domes tend to sink under the sand at sunset," I said. "To conserve energy."

"Yes, yes," Buddy said impatiently. "The module is sentient enough to compensate for such things."

I turned to look at Rudy and asked, "Isn't this one of those offense to God actions you like to go on about?"

Rudy stiffened and glared. "The offense is in their corruption of Faith. They seek to deny the belief of others. As if God cares which path we follow to His house."

"Yeah," I said, straining not to take a step backwards. "But giant and sentient Temple Trees? That's just... weird. And why unpopulated areas? That doesn't make sense if you intend to spread the gospel of Submind."

"There will be no preaching," Buddy said. "Can't abide preaching."

"The Submind Temples will be places of peace and rest. Aggression will not be tolerated within, and Submind technology is sufficiently advanced to deal with anything the Martian military can send against a well established Tree. They need a few months to grow, but we will be bombarding Mars with slush bombs and Submind pods for weeks, and the confusion will last long enough."

"And that's when Mars will grow a magnetic field?" I asked.

"It's far more complicated then that, young man," Fife said.

"No kidding?" I said with as much sarcasm as I could inject. "Have you tried explaining it to someone who might be interested? Simon, maybe?"

"It was his idea," Rudy said. "Once a critical mass has been achieved, the Trees will serve as power generators for Submind to start the process of subatomic modifications to the Martian core. A strong magnetic field, combined with the deluge of water from Saturn's rings, will establish a survivable planetary atmosphere within three human generations."

"I... Oh. Then why are you trying to explain it to me? Why should I care?"

"You know," Fife said, hesitating. "You're an atheist, like Buddy. We wanted your opinion--about changing Mars."

"I am not an atheist," I said. "I'm not even agnostic. I just don't need an interpreter."

All three of them studied me like I'd suddenly grown six more heads.

"What?" I asked sharply.

"What do you think?" Rudy asked. "Of the Temples?"

"Trees," Buddy muttered.

I shrugged. "Sounds nice. Peace and rest."

"Whether you want it or not," Buddy said.

I laughed and slapped his shoulder. "Happy Holidays."

Curtain Call

It has been increasingly difficult to maintain the habit of posting to this log, but I still find comfort and release in the process of writing. I can't for sure how long I will continue, but in a couple of years, the fleet of fire and ice we sent out this morning will engage Mars. I guess that leaves some time before it gets really crazy.

"It looks like a huge curtain against the night," Paula said, watching the fleet from the rail observation deck.

"Yeah," I said. "And it's going to smother Mars."

"That's not... what I was thinking," Paula said. "At all. It just looks pretty; glowing and sparkling."

"Rick was bragging about there being over a thousand slush bombs in the mix. And, it'll be over a year before the fighter platforms need to leave," I said. "The thing is, Mars already knows we're coming. They have all of that time to try stopping our invasion, but I don't see how they can."

"Yeah?" Paula asked, studying me.

"Submind's invasion," I said. "It's Submind. We couldn't do it without an alien virus and pod people. Submind couldn't do it without us. Submind is invading Mars, and I'm actively helping. Shouldn't I feel bad about that?"

"I guess," Paula said. "But we can't do nothing."

"I... Yeah. I said something like to Simon not long ago."

"Then what's the problem?" Paula asked.

"The initial battle will cause minimal casualties," I said. "But once we start the siege, people will die. And changing the magnetic field of Mars is going to be violent. Anyone who is not willing to accept a Submind host environment is not going to survive. Reggie estimates it will be about 70 or 80 million dead."

"Yes," Paula said. "Or we could let those 80 million people oppress the other 800 million who just want to be happy."

"Sorry. Glowing and sparkling," I said. "Like a big curtain."

Life Speed

I walked into Reggie's lab and poked around until he couldn't ignore me any longer.

"Why are you here? I've got three med-vats to program. I need to concentrate."

"Because Simon is throwing a raging fit about this light-speed thing you've been planning. I would have thought he'd be happy about it" I said, pausing. "Not that anyone thought to tell me anything. You're Submind's representative, or puppet, or something. You didn't think to mention this until you got a new puppet?"

He started giggling. I insult him, and he starts giggling. I'm still trying to decide if his weird eyes are more disturbing then his head full of Doc's memories, and while both seem harmless enough, I'm watching Submind, and everything new the alien virus brings to us, with deep suspicion. Doc thought it was great fun cranking me up about it, but Reggie just tends to start giggling in the middle of our conversations. What's even more annoying is I'm the only person who sets him off like that.

"Should we worry about your sanity?" I asked.

"You are a refreshingly forthright young man," Reggie said, ignoring my last question. "The answer to that is simple. It is possible to travel almost instantaneously from one point to another, but it is limited by distance, and impossible to survive."

"Um?"

"You leave here," Reggie said, marking an imaginary dot in the air. "And you arrive here, a second later. Dead."

"You're kidding?"

"It's been that way for millennia," Reggie said. "I call it the speed of life."

"That would explain Simon's lack of joy, but he was angry. Not happy with you, specifically, in any way."

"There is a small possibility that Mars will drag Earth into this conflict," Reggie said. "We can't allow that to happen."

"Obviously," I said.

"At my suggestion, we are growing a specialized Submind graviton engine into 24 slush bombs. They will be capable of reaching Mars in a matter of minutes, but the engines will die, so they only get one hop. We can use the standard slush bomb thrusters to gain momentum, and then translate into Mars system on the fly."

"I... yeah. I get it now. Simon thinks you actually intend to do this."

"Don't be silly," Reggie said. "If we were to display such advancements at this time, the entire inner system would declare war on us. That would not end well for anyone."

I nodded. "Glad to hear it."

"Good."

"So, I'll go explain it to Simon--see if I can seal his carbon leak," I said. "Can't have this becoming more than a rumor."

Roll Call, Redux

This is a list of people I've introduced over the course of this personal log, sorted chronologically. Mostly.

DeeDee "dzyjak" Jackson: That's me. This is my log. I talk about myself all the time. My system name is not capitalized.

Chuck Vann: He was my immediate supervisor for a while. He made nice with Kelly and is running her Human Resources Department--actually it's the 'Sentient Resources Department' now.

Doctor Signe Hester: Doc introduced us to Submind. We couldn't have saved the station without her.

Paula Mattson: Doc's main assistant, my serious love interest, and the best singer on Fort Falling.

Eddie "EMF" Crump: Eddie is in charge of security. He took over the data core when we split away from the OSA, and he hasn't let anyone else get close to it. Kelly appears to approve most of the time.

Wendy Hardin: She is the ranking OSA official aboard the station. Except for that, she's not so bad.

Joe Friedrich: Joe asked me to stop calling him 'Brain Eater.' Whatever. He's a math genius and quanta admin for Fort Falling. We don't get along.

Rick "Counter-Spin" Young: Rick doesn't care what people call him. Or if he does, it doesn't happen more than twice.

Curious, the chimp: My best chimpanzee friend. He likes his humor straight-forward and aggressive.

Kenneth "Not Ken" Harvey: Kenny is back. I have no problem calling him Kenneth, but I've found that if I make him explain his name every time he has a question, he doesn't ask as many questions.

Theodore "No Relation" Richards: I'm fairly certain Theodore is related to Kenneth. Theo likes to explain how he isn't related to a number of famous men named Theodore Richards every time I never ask about it, so I've never bothered to ask. He trained with the chimpanzees and became an excellent enviro-tech.

Sheryl Malice: Sheryl is working in my office. As a lawyer, she's bonus oxygen. I assigned her a team of technicians so she would stop calling me. I guess that means we get along fine.

Kelly Grace Smith: If anyone else decides to run for the office, Governor Kelly Grace Smith will probably be re-elected unanimously. No one still believes she is a vac-head.

Rat Bane, the cat: The first feline with a symbiont, as far as I know. He went meta and ran away to Crystal Falls.

Nana: Nana was my mother's mom, and the reason I became a station tech.

Enviro-tech Misty, the chimp: Misty hangs around with Counter-Spin. She appears to like explosions and micro-grav as much as Rick.

Pipster, the cat: Pipster was the first cat I saw with the long and thin magnetic quills from a Submind symbiote.

Miss Hiss, the cat: Miss Hiss comes around every day or two for some treats.

Submind: Thoughts of the Submind is a sentient virus. I have yet to see evidence of what brain-techs call an 'Ego' in the Submind virus. The concept of self just doesn't seem to apply. Since I like my 'self' just the way it is, I don't see how this can be anything but good.

One Track, the chimp: Kelly's Enviro-tech. He has trouble switching focus unless you hit him with something. Not too hard. He is a chimpanzee after all--even if Submind has added some higher brain functions.

Captain Raymond Miller: An ex-troopship captain we had as a prisoner of war for a couple of minutes. He has a dog. Kelly put him in charge of immigration at my suggestion. I suppose Chuck approved of the choice.

Callie McKiern: A friend of my mom's. She's been training chimps her entire life. Her family makes the hormone supplements and foods which keep chimpanzees sane. At one time, according to Callie, male chimpanzees where too crazy to be among humans on a space station.

Comet, the dog: Captain Miller's dog. I would call him a cyborg, but the implants are biological constructs made by Submind, so I'm not sure they count as machines.

The Povel family--Sarah, Ben and two girls: This is Wendy's family. Sarah is her sister. The family ran away from Titan station back when the OSA was trying to convince us Saturn Station One still belonged to the Alliance.

Sandra Quinn: A customs agent who I promoted to head of Customs. I'm the Minister. Who's going to argue.

Sam Tellerwell: A merchant in specialized goods--mostly foodstuff from Earth. Sandra's new husband.

Rita Selmon: Rita likes turtles. She once treated me to a lecture on the universe as an inverted turtle, where everything inside was outside, and only the turtle existed. I think she was messing with me--she's really good at it.

Mini Cee, the chimp: Mini is crew boss of the enviro-techs in Customs. No one gets unauthorized biologicals past her crew.

Vincent K. Selmon: Rita's father. A professor of English Literature with brain scaring. Before he came here to get Submind injections, he tended to confuse himself with a giant beetle. Now, when he's not teaching or helping Governor Smith firm up our political system, he's joy riding his personal vac-suit around like he's a giant beetle.

Rhona Selmon: Vincent's second and youngest daughter. She took care of their father for several months while Rita was here talking to Doc about a cure for Vincent's nerve scaring. She is the scariest tiny-person I've every met.

Four Thumbs: Chimpanzee's choose their own names, so don't blame me.

Ted Stansen: A litigious tourist who will never grace Fort Falling's atmo ever again.

Tesla Cee: A crazy chimpanzee who is currently riding Saturn's atmosphere so he can watch lighting storms. He reminds me of Counter-Spin Rick, except I don't think he likes me.

Fife Tiberman: A hive-mind A.I. robotics expert. Despite his loud and continuous comments about the unproven reliability of bio-technology, Fife didn't waste any time getting a symbiont and a living vac-suit. One of the Three Brains.

Kevin Jaunha: Kevin was a cyborg for several years. Then he came here and had the hardware replaced by Submind wetwear. If you aren't paying attention, he looks %100 human.

Doug Blatt: One of the Blatt's. He has a small trust fund and claims to be a student of gravity. He' worked for Callie for awhile, and made friends with every enviro-tech chimp on board. He has several repair hubs and official paper-work with Governor Smith's office, calling his project "Crazy Doug's Bargain Retrofits."

Simon Green: Simon is a teenager with too many brains. The Mars Republic claims he belongs to them, and they locked up his father to try and keep him in line. Simon's father told him to run, and the kid landed here almost two years later.

Elder Harpo: Doug's long time chimpanzee companion.

The Clee: A race of carbon and silicon based aliens who would have taken over Sol system millions of years ago, except they all died before reaching Saturn. The Submind virus and it's meta-host went dormant until Doc Hester came along to wake them up.

Tera Blatt: Doug's money crazy older sister. Kelly appointed her Fort Falling's Minister of Finance, and Counter-Spin Rick is her future husband.

Crystal Falls: Not a person, exactly, but alive nonetheless. The junk half of Saturn Station One is still in the process of growing into a colony of meta-meme Submind domestic felines, but I'm told it will be amazing in 20 or 30 years.

Zoo Prime: The chimps grew most of it. It's alive. They named it. Doug has his own shipyards now, but he still subcontracts his most delicate designs to the Zoo.

Genitors: The race which spawned the Submind virus. They been gone for billions of years, but they still manifest as meta-memes in five percent of domestic felines with Submind symbionts.

Ksini: The first alien race to encounter Submind. They didn't survive the encounter.

Luige: The last alien race to encounter the Genitors. Neither race survived the encounter. Submind had migrated to several other aliens species by then, mostly on friendly terms.

The Three Brains: A team of A.I. specialist who design and grow prototype space vehicles in cooperation with Submind and Doug Blatt.

Professor Rudy McClain: One of the Three Brains. He designs the 'low level decision' routines. According to Rudy, it's like morality, except beyond my comprehension. He's also a religious and science fanatic, and doesn't really distinguish between the two. Some people find that annoying.

Trenton Jackson: My dad, the labor party politician. Don't get him started.

Vicky Jackson: My mom, the frontier woman. Dad doesn't stand a chance of returning to Ceres station.

Buddy Jenkins: One of the Three Brains. His specialty is self-programmed silicon growth. Reality is something he hears about from time to time.

Laura Kimberly Paine: A well connected Martian political refuge who happens to be Joe's live-in girlfriend. It took me months to figure out who she was.

KamKam 'Kammie' Levaron: An insatiably curious little girl who will probably grow up to own her ship-yards and racing fleet.

Cordie Levaron: KamKam's supportive and befuddled father.

Rachel Levaron: KamKam's supportive and very interested mother.

Bosco and Tieshe: Counter-Spin Rick's favorite war dogs. They have Submind vac-suits, and play fetch with booster-rockets.

Doctor Reginald Querista: Doc's replacement. He hasn't integrated with Submind as much as Doc had, but his once artificial eyes were replaced with Submind duplicates. If the light hits them just right, you can see the tiny gears and multiple lenses. It's a bit disturbing.

A Stone's Throw

Paula designed a new grav sensor that projects the overlay grid directly into the user's eye. It's amazing. Naturally, when Kim asked me to help search local space for one wayward Simon, I selfishly took the opportunity to play with my new toys.

I scanned the rings for about an hour, drifting on ion-thrusters. The tidal forces made interesting patterns behind my eyes, but the spike I saw fly outwards and towards Sol repeated without pattern. I moved closer to investigate, sliding into the stream of ice and watching for another gravity spike.

Simon was standing on a small ball of gravel and dirty snow. He was throwing rocks with the full force of his Submind vac-suit. It's hard to find rocks in Saturn's rings, but there are dense clusters of gravel where the rocks outnumber the dirty snowballs. Judging from the stream of rocks heading toward the sun, he had been at it for hours.

"What's you doing, Simon?" I asked.

"I'm spitting at Earth."

"Um?" I asked, a bit confused.

"Stupid bastards," Simon said, and threw a rock. He watched it fly for a moment and then reached down to pick up another one. Then he ran a med-scan with his suit glove and muttered something about the Clee.

"Rick is going to drop one of those hyper-bombs on Earth's arctic ship-yards," Simon said, studying the rock.

"Only if they ally with Mars in the upcoming conflict," I said. "And Rick might be a bastard, but he's not stupid."

"Not Rick," Simon said, throwing the rock. "Earth. Stupid, arrogant, soft and fleshy Earth. And the bastards who run the place."

"Oh," I said. "So you are throwing rocks at them?"

Simon snorted and picked up another rock. "Wishing I could go back in time a few hundred years and send these Clee Submind pods into Earth's atmosphere before any of us were born."

"I'd rather you didn't." I said. "I like me just the way I am."

Simon looked at me for a moment and said, "What do you want, Mr. Jackson? I was having a nice cathartic fantasy, and you gotta come around and inject reality. Always with the reality."

"I'm a terrible liar," I said.

"That one sounded convincing."

"See what I mean?" I asked. "Joe was worried about you."

"Joe wouldn't ask you. He'd ask Eddie maybe, probably Wendy, or..."

"Kim." I said. "She said if Joe was worried about you, it was serious."

"It wasn't that serious," Simon said. "Was it? He won't stop trying to convince me those bombs are 'for the greater good.' I got sick of it, is all. Maybe I foamed at the mouth a little."

I nodded. "There's a bunch of people out looking for you. Maybe you should turn on your long-range and tell everyone you're still alive."

When he was done with that, I asked, "Do you really think any of those pods will reach Earth?"

"No," Simon said, throwing another one.

I picked up a rock, skipped the med-scan, and let it fly.

Parental Control

My mom grabbed Chuck's wrist, twisted and tugged, and Chuck found himself on tiptoe, face against the bulkhead, with his arm pressed painfully against his back.

"Those chimpanzees wouldn't even be here in your stupid resource pool if it weren't for me, you small minded slob," she hissed. "How long has it been since you tried to breath vacuum?"

Chuck gasped. "I have to make ah... ow ow ow..."

"He's not listening to me, Trenton," my mom complained.

"It can see that, Dear," my dad said.

"Then vacuum probably isn't the answer," I said. "Maybe you should let dad handle this one. After all, he is the labor negotiator in the family."

She snorted in disgust and shoved Chuck hard against the wall before letting him go. It's been a long time since I've seen my mom that pissed off.

"Here's the thing, Charlie," My dad said. "Vicky wants two specific chimpanzees attached to our household as environmental techs and such. You seem to think doing this favor for us would be morally offensive. Why is that?"

"Mo... morally.... No," Chuck said. "That's not... I have them scheduled already. They are due to leave for Pumpkin Village in the morning."

"In which case, they haven't left yet," my dad said.

"But I don't have any replacements," Chuck said. "It will be three days..."

"Are you, or are you not, the Sapient Resources Director for this entire space station?"

"Well, yes, but it's not..."

"Do you like your job, Chuck?" My dad asked. "Maybe you're taking it too seriously? Hum? I could talk to Kelly. Find something less stressful for you maybe."

"Yes. No. I like it just fine. I don't want another job." Chuck said rapidly.

"Weldon and Yana," my dad said. "Is that right, Dear? Weldon and Yana? From Ceres Station. They're such a sweet couple, and they've both taken so well to the Submind symbionts."

"Yes," my mom said. "Yana's a genius with hydro-veggies."

"I can't make them..." Chuck protested weakly.

"I'll talk to them," I said. "I have a way with chimps." Watching my parents play someone was always entertaining, but the show was nearly over.

"I'll have to call Doug again," Chuck said.

"All taken care of," my dad said. "Are we good? No more objections?"

Chuck shook his head and rubbed his arm.

"All settled then," my dad stated, and turned my mother around so he could gently lead her away.

"Don't make me come back here tomorrow," my mom said without turning back.

Chuck turned to glare at me. I shrugged and put on my most annoying smile.

Drifter Run

I was hanging out at the Dizzy Pig with Eddie. Paula was singing. Wendy and Tera were there too. I suspect Wendy was with Eddie, and Tera was waiting for Counter-Spin Rick. My mom and dad were being embarrassing in a corner booth.

"There's a drifter tribe mining ice clear over on the other side of the rings," Rick said, taking the seat next to Tera. "I want to drop a couple of slush bombs and send them back to the belt with Submind on board."

"Don't be stupid," Tera said. "Drifters are harmless."

"They steal," Rick muttered.

"Whatever," Tera said. "We need some fresh entertainment around here. No offense to your girl, Dizzy, but she hasn't had time to learn any new songs. Not really."

I shrugged. Paula had been complaining about that same thing for weeks. "Those three comedians aren't getting any fresher. I'm with Tera on this one, Rick."

"Of course you are," Rick said. "For such an angry guy, you're a big, soft, pushover."

"I'm going to request Hamlet," I said. "And I'm not angry. I'm elevated."

"We can hire one of those couples," Tera said. "The sex teachers. Invite them over for a week..."

"Tera," Rick said sharply.

Tera bent over and whispered in his ear. Rick's face heated up, and he gulped his drink.

"I want to scan them," Eddie says. "Build profiles. Maybe do some cultural studies."

"Tag and release," I muttered.

Wendy giggled.

"I just think they like putting on a show," I said. "But it's obvious they aren't afraid of a little work. They're busting ice hard, right now, and they didn't even bother to stop by and steal anything first."

"Then you should go invite them to put on a show," my mom suggested from behind me. "Hamlet you said. Right?"

"What?" I asked, looking around in horror. "That's a two day flight."

I know my mom's expressions, and there was no way I wouldn't be flying out there tomorrow.

"Why not," I said. "Buddy just finish my new grav-board, and I can practice Relativity Two. Only be a couple of hours to me."

Tribal Dance

I was charged and buzzing from the ride, and scanning short range for comm traffic as I rode my board down toward Saturn. I skimmed the ring plane, occasionally scraping a snowball out of boredom. The drifter fleet, if it could be called that, was nowhere in site. I was about to call in for coordinates when I my scan landed on a transmission.

"Bobby's gonna bust us if we don't set these charges right quick. We're the last ones out."

"So what? We're not going anywhere. It's not like Titan Base wants us around. That place is coming apart. And Saturn Station One--Well, I hear they're all crazy. They throw people in oxyfluid main-cores for no reason."

I couldn't help myself. "We are," I said over the comm. "But you have to be pretty offensive to get thrown into a main-core. Usually we just talk you into volunteering."

There were two gasps and a solid laugh. I followed the signal to a respectably sized chuck of ice occupied by three vac-suited human males. They were planting small ice-boosters and shatter charges, and looked to be almost done.

"It's a fairy," one of them said.

"On a grav-board," said another one.

"Like from 'Galactic Academy'?'"

"Maybe. Anyone know what sort of powers a space-fairy has? Hey space-fairy, can you go faster than light on that thing?"

"It only took me three hours to get here, but I left Fort Falling two days ago," I said. "And call me Dizzy." Sending the signal to retract my wings. They folded up as I stepped off the board and touched down in front of them.

"Riddles? We like riddles. What's the answer space-fairy?"

"A question for a question," I said.

"Our favorite rule."

"My question is for the Player," I said.

There was silence for a long time.

"I'm sending you our beacon code now. The Player will speak with you."

I locked into their system and said, "I am DeeDee Jackson, with a message from Fort Falling. We greet the Player and the Troupe, and invite you to our theater, as poor as it may be. Will you play for us? We call for trade, and offer services for all. Our hearts and our minds are open."

"The old words," a new voice said. There was more than a hint of sarcasm in the tone. "I am Mitch, of the Mad Puppet Tribe. We number 200 and more, and would never play a theater uninvited."

"We have reserved a six-port urban lash-up, with crew and full repair facilities, for as long as you need it," I said.

"So," Mitch said slowly. "You made the traditional trek, and said the traditional words, so you could... repair our ships?"

"You ignored our calls," I said. "It had to be done."

"You're going to repair our ships?"

"Only if you can do Hamlet," I said. "Two shows a week for six weeks. Maybe once on the weekend too."

"You believe our ships need repair?"

"All ships need repair. Even the ones which repair themselves," I said. "But this would be more along the lines of a retrofit, and entirely at your discretion."

"Four days," Mitch said, and disconnected.

"Great," One of the drifters said. "Dad's gonna be on the comm in about three minutes, and we're gonna have to explain why we aren't done with this bust and run."

"That's it?" I asked.

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know," I said. "Ceremony."

"No time for ceremony right now, space-fairy Dizzy. My name's Ted. The little one is Fred, and Tre makes three. You can help Tre with those drill cables, and Fred and I will rig the charges."

"Sure. No problem," I said. "Do you play spinball, Ted?"

"Yeah. Love it."

"I'm going to have to teach you how we play it on Fort Falling." I said, and got to work.

Genetic Drift

"She wants to what?" I asked, opening my eyes and forgetting about the sleep I was trying to get.

"What are you so surprised about?" Paula asked. "Drifters tend to seek genetic diversity more than most belt dwellers. You have good genetics, and I've been discussing the same thing with Rhonda for weeks now."

"Rhonda? Wait a minute," I said. "Does this mean you have a list of men you want to have sex with?"

"Breed with, Dee Dear," Paula said, snuggling close.

"That involves sex," I said.

"It doesn't have to," Paula said. "But traditionally, that's true. It's more fun, too."

"So... Melissa, was it? You're saying that Melissa wants a genetic donation from me, and she asked you if she could seduce me?"

"Something like that," Paula said. She sounded amused. I was starting to see a downside to her open sexuality.

"I hardly know her," I said. "I'm not sure I can be that intimate."

"I could help," Paula said, feeling around under the covers.

"Who's on your list?" I asked, grabbing her hands to keep them from distracting me.

"They all left for Mars system when the OSA condemned the station."

"Is Kenneth on it? He came back. And he's with Rhonda now. Why else would you girls be talking about it?"

Paula didn't answer right away. "Yes. We don't have to follow this tradition if it bothers you, DeeDee. It's doubtful Fort Falling will suffer a large population drop. Genetic diversity isn't critical like it used to be."

"That's not..." I stopped. Children were important to Paula. The last time I noticed, she had said that seven would be the right number to have. I just hadn't considered there would be more than one father. "I guess Kenneth's alright--but Rhonda? Really? She scares me. I'm not sure I can be intimate with her either."

Paula giggled softly, and said. "You should contact Tre in the morning and make arrangements. Melissa should stay with us for a couple of weeks, at least."

"Tre?"I asked. "Right. The husband."

"And since I won't have you all to myself for awhile," Paula said, and proceeded to distract me. To be honest, thinking about Rhonda had me half distracted already.

Blood Written

Drifter ship bulkheads are covered in words. Poems and fables and random bits of advice are everywhere. Complete lessons on how to change carbon scrubbers or light panels are scribed in useful locations. Nothing is painted in neat block letters. It's all messy and wonderful, covered in beautiful and finely crafted words.

"This bulkhead is blood written," Ted said. "My grandfather sixth inscribed 'Time's Test' on this wall himself."

"Yeah?" Doug said, caressing the bulkhead softly. "What's that."

"It is our most sacred teaching. If it will not survive this mad organic retrofit you are proposing, it must be removed to a place of honor on the observation deck, and preserved for as long as this ship lives."

Two of the three chimps tagging along with Doug started tracing words on the wall in quiet fascination. The chimps on Fort Falling are more or less a new species, thanks to Submind. Most of them have a wicked sense of humor, and are smarter than the average human station tech.

"We would, of course, like to save as much of our works as possible. That's if we even agree to this radical shift in our environment." Ted said.

Ted watched the chimps for a minute, and then raised his eyebrows when Four Thumbs turned to him and used chimp sign to say, "Blood written."

Ted nodded. "Yes. From our breath, and from our life."

All three chimpanzees repeated the words in chimp sign. Ted nodded and repeated the gestures.

"No problem." Four Thumbs gestured, and barked chimp laughter. "For as long as the ship shall live."

The chimps all busted up, waved goodbye, and pretended to help each other stumble away.

I just shook my head. "I don't think you have anything to worry about, Ted. The chimps like you."

"What's so funny about a ship being alive?" Ted asked. It sounded like he wasn't sure if he should be offended or was just missing the joke.

"Um? They're chimps. With Submind symbionts."

"So?"

"And you just asked them to bring your ship to life after you told them your ship was alive," I said. "They think metaphorical concepts are hilarious. Add a bit of recursion, and, well, you're lucky they didn't make you an honorary chimp right then and there."

Ted had a strange look on his face.

"It involves a lot of painful slapping," I explained.

"Are you sure they understand?" Ted asked Doug. "It's always a sadness when a ship loses blood."

"The chimps are going to adopt your entire tribe," I said. "Trust me."

Doug snickered. "He's probably right. Listen, Ted, if those apes can't save %99 of these words, I'll eat this entire lash-up hub. They'll probably grow them right into the design."

"It will be weeks before the chimps can get started," I said. "And, from what Melissa tells me, there are almost two dozen young Drifter women seeking seed fathers. "

"Yes," Ted said, nodding. "It took us almost three years to get here, and opportunities have been limited."

"So there's no hurry," I said. "You're going to be here for awhile. Take some time and learn what Submind can do for your tribe."

"That's for the elders," Ted said. "But as soon as they approve, I'm getting one of those space-fairy suits like you have."

"I'll have to beat you at Spinball before then," I said.

Ted laughed.

Doug smirked at him. "Don't laugh until you've seen him play. With that thing in his head, he could make Simon Jump weep in frustration."

"I will play one game," Ted said, studying me. "But you must explain how you flew for three hours, but it was two days time. That is a story and a trick to be blood written."

"Done," I said.

Hydroponic Theater

"I designed a theater for them," Doug said. "Well, Rudy designed it, but I paid him to do it. And I found the space. I'm a genius."

"That's nice," I said. "You gonna grow it from scratch?"

"What? No. I'm not going to grow anything. I gave the designs to Mitch," Doug said. "With names of my favorite subcontractors. They need to learn how to work with Submind if they want to grow 'Crazy Doug's Theater of Life.'"

"That's funny," I said, deadpan. "You come up with that all by yourself."

"They aren't going to call it that," Doug said. "But they're going to write a play about me."

"That's not always good."

"There's no such thing as bad publicity."

"You start being generous," I said. "And people ask you for favors more often."

"They have this huge space in that rigged-up storage ship they thrust around," Doug said, ignoring me. "It's just wasted space in there--exposed to vacuum. As soon as I saw it, I was ready to charge in with vats and chimps, but Drifters can be a bit touchy about their ships."

"Yeah," I said. "I noticed. Mitch seemed almost insulted when I suggest his ships needed repair."

"They'll be able to seat over 100 people, and the stage can change scenery in a matter of minutes," Doug said. "Have I mentioned I'm a genius?"

"Yeah," I said. "Please stop."

"But it's a living stage," Doug said. "And it changes shape, and color, and stuff."

"You're a genius," I said. "I don't care. It's your turn to buy the drinks, and mine's empty."

"Mine's not."

"Then stop talking about yourself and drink up," I said.

Seed Father

"I hate ceremonies," I complained.

"No you don't," Paula said. "You love them. Get used to it."

"But why do I have to be the 'Seed Father' in this thing? I'm not the only guy..."

"You were the messenger," Paula said. "It's tradition."

"Tradition," I muttered. "Mom set me up. She's been asking for grandkids for years, and she knew the Drifters would want me to be the first seed father."

"What are you complaining about?" Paula asked. "It's not like you have to raise the child. You just have to call once in a while. Maybe send birthday gifts."

"My mom has already adopted Melissa and Tre," I said. "Not to mention the rest of their family. It's not my fault I'm an only child."

"It's not your parents' fault either," Paula said. "Now stop whining and fix your collar. We're going to be late."

"How long did they say this would take?" I asked.

"They didn't," Paula said. "But from my experience, the ceremony takes about 15 minutes, and the after party goes all night."

"Can I get drunk?" I asked.

"After the ceremony," Paula said, pulling me towards the door. "Come on. Don't make me call your mom."

"I'm coming," I said, and let her lead me to my doom.

Flight School

"Are you avoiding your office again, Minister Jackson?" Kammie asked.

"Sometimes I like to shop when I'm depressed," I said. "Most often I sulk around in my ship and avoid the comm for a few hours, but sometimes I like to shop. For one thing, Earth chocolate can lighten anyone's mood for a time, depending on the cost of the chocolate. For another, watching the apes at trade negotiations can be entertaining and instructive."

Kammie laughed. "I like you, Minister Jackson. You don't talk to me like most adults."

"Yeah," I said. "How do adults talk to you?"

"Like I'm nine," Kammie said, sitting down next to me.

I shrugged. "You'll be ten soon. Who have you escaped from today?"

"My dad," Kammie said. "He's bringing us ice-cream."

"Us?" I asked.

"Chocolate," Kammie said firmly.

"Really?" I asked, looking at the runny remains of my last serving. "Please tell me you didn't get that mind reading thing like Eddie's got? Little girls shouldn't be reading adult minds. It's not healthy."

Kammie giggled. "Don't worry, Minister Jackson. My thing is momentum. Like your's. I saw you licking the last drops off of your spoon, and the suicidal look on your face when it was gone."

"That's a little over-dramatic," I said. "Don't you think?"

"As soon as I got my Submind symbiont, I concentrated on feeling the station spinning beneath me, and then I felt for Saturn..."

"Please stop," I said, feeling a bit woozy. "That is not at all how I came by my feel for momentum.

"Of course not," Kammie said dismissively. "But I'm planning ahead, and a pilot needs to know how fast she's going, relatively speaking. It worked."

"Yeah?"

Kammie shrugged. "I've seen you fly, and I'm going to be better than you one day."

"Oh," I said, not sure if I should be flattered or disturbed. She was way too smart for a child her age. "Thanks."

"Hey, Dad," Kammie said with calculated excitement. "Minister Jackson's going to give me flying lessons."

"That's nice," he said, handing me a Double Chocolate Frost.

"I don't suppose you could wait a couple of years?" I asked, focusing on my spoon.

"Then too," Kammie said, stuffing her mouth with dripping, syrupy brown ice-cream.

I shrugged and followed her example.

Relative Facts

On the rare occasions when Nana had too much alcohol, she liked to share her favorite life lesson. "There's two kinds of facts--absolute and relative. You're born. You die. Gravity sucks. And Sol glows in the dark. Those are absolute. Everything else is relative."

I think I understand why she used to say that, but it's nothing I can express in words. Sharing my life in this somewhat public forum has been therapeutic and instructive, but I'm finding I don't need the release as much as I did when I started this project. I don't intend to stop writing, but more and more of my life is becoming classified secret, so I may not be around much.

You know where I've been? Living in Paula's prototype submind pod for humans, and having the most incredible sex any human has ever had.

Paula and I are truly married now. Our honeymoon lasted for two months, and it was the best two weeks of my life. While the universe drifted passed us, we slept at Relativity Two Something. We spent a couple of days on Jupiter Station Twelve, and the rest of the time in each other's arms.

Apparently, thanks to Paula's human seed pod, Paula and I are the parents of 17 potential offspring. Only two of them will know us as parents. The rest may never be born, or they might grow up a million light-years away. I'm not sure how I feel about that, but I know Paula, and I couldn't have stopped her.

I was going to describe the seed pod, and how we melded together and rode Relativity and each other all the way to Jupiter and back, but then I decided... It would be impossible for me to know both where I was, and how fast I was going, at the same time.