CHAPTER 2

Launch

Emly Brandt, musician, mother of one, let out the breath she had been unconsciously holding and stepped off the shuttle with her daughter. The fifteen minute ride from the checkpoint to the launch station stretched into a whole century of hot sun and shining white concrete, accented by neighbors’ coughs and the creak of the bus’s suspension.

A pair of black sandals dangled from her free hand, and a large carry-on did its best to keep her tethered to Earth as she walked across the lot with a crowd of other high-profile passengers. Musicians, actors, politicians all funneled through the same doors thousands of others would enter, laden with carry-on bags and anticipation. Emly’s bare feet gripped the rough pavement, gathering dust and pebbles as she approached the low, wide processing building. Her dark hair caught the wind and wrapped around her face like loosely spun wool. The ticket agent checked her passes and verified her profile while she stared into the large, bright hangar filled with people, all going about the business of preparing for a trip that would likely last the rest of their lives. 

She only had a moment to take this scene in. A tall, thin woman greeted her with a look she was all too accustomed to seeing in dressing room mirrors and tube windows. Perfectly subtle makeup and gracefully arched bangs worked hard to obscure tired, intense eyes. Despite her state, her voice came out smooth and strong, as controlled as Emly’s in her best performances, when she introduced herself and explained the check-in procedure. 

It was late July when her group was called to take their place in their new homes, leaving one month to say goodbyes, a week to pack before they were off to the launch site in Pasadena. A lot was left behind; families were strictly limited to just two large footlockers and a single personal bag each. Most of the Brandt luggage was filled with Emly’s daughter Yaro’s belongings. At 14, leaving her friends and familiar places would be hard enough, but leaving her most valuable possessions behind would be untenable. 

Emly was used to starting over. Though currently wealthy and settled, her life had mostly been one show after another in tiny bars and county fairs from coast to coast. She could not count the number of times her things had been stolen, lost, destroyed, or sold out of necessity. The only things she ever managed to keep were her mother’s wedding ring, her guitar, and Yaro’s birth certificate. Even the ring was sold once or twice over the years, but she always got it back by some turn of luck or last minute hustle. 

She approached a tall, glass-walled scanner. Before stepping in, she slipped the band off her finger and placed it carefully in a tray beside the scanner’s entrance. Three illuminated diamonds and faceted pearls greeted her on the other side, ready to return to her right hand. 

Following behind, Yaro fumbled with piles of glowing bangles and a shimmering, pink, twenty-strand collar that was still softly playing her favorite stream. Carefully straightened and sculpted hair in shades of blue, green, and white flew out in every direction as a puff of air scattered any dust on her person around her in the scanner. After the dust vanished into the vents in the ceiling, the door opened and she hurriedly gathered her things as her mother watched with the first smile she had cracked in days. Once sorted, the pair joined the growing mass of people surrounding their guide. 

"Alright everyone, are we all settled?" the guide asked as the crowd noisily awaited instruction. 

"Ok. We are the lucky group. Minimal processing will be required, since you were all cleared before arrival. Your bags will need to be checked one last time, then you’ll verify your information at one of the kiosks here before you board the shuttle. After you verify or enter your information as accurately and completely as possible, you will be given an ID code. Place your hand on the red circle, and a dot will appear on your skin. It is not permanent, it will wash off in a few weeks, or less if you scrub hard. This is your ticket, your ID, your name as far as most of the people you will come across over the next few days are concerned. This mark is fully compatible with most handshake devices. It is magnetized, and poses no health risks. Any questions?" 

She paused and looked over the crowd. Satisfied that no one did indeed have any questions, she continued. 

"Your checked bags are already on their way up to the Space Station. They will be checked one more time before they’re delivered to your homes. Those of you who paid for the unpacking service will find everything put away per the instructions you provided the moving company. There is a bank in every kiosk here. I recommend you get cash out before you get on the shuttle. Most likely all of your money will be exchanged and available to you by the time you arrive, but delays are not unheard of. Any questions before we move on?" 

With no response from the passengers, the guide dismissed them. 

"Are you excited?" Emly asked her daughter as she waited for her dossier to load on the screen in front of her. 

Yaro shrugged, her wide eyes betraying an overwhelmed, agitated mind. Emly smiled and corrected a few misspellings on the screen. Outwardly, she was calm and casual as she tried in vain to engage her daughter in small talk. She tried her best not to hint at the somersaults her stomach had been turning all day. 

When the group finished with their final pre-flight arrangements and took their farewell photos of their last minutes on Earth, it was beginning to seem all too real to Emly. As her nervousness became more apparent, Yaro’s seemed to be fading. The guide led the group to a long row of elevator doors. 

"When you’re ready to leave, go ahead and hold up your hand at one of these doors—one family at a time, please. You’ll meet your escort when you exit the elevator. He or she will be able to answer any further questions you may have." 

Hesitantly, the passengers began approaching the doors in family groups. By this time, three other crowds arrived and began lining up behind them. Politicians, their husbands, wives, and children stood waiting for their rides with varying expressions of excitement, anxiety, fear, or chemically-induced ambivalence impressed on their faces and postures. A few couples, older siblings, and other non-related configurations were scattered throughout the crowd as well. 

"Ready?" Emly asked Yaro, trying to keep her face as open and positive as she could. Yaro simply nodded and spun the bangles on her wrist, pulling her bag close as her mother led her into the clear capsule. 

Yaro could see outside from the elevator. The parking lot, the shuttle, and the processing building were all visible from inside. As they rose higher, the ocean came into view, glittering in the afternoon sun. At last, some excitement began to show in Yaro’s big, green eyes as she pulled her mother in for a picture with the water behind them. Looking down, she could see other passengers in capsules below. As they traveled high up the tube, she took as many photos as she could with the barely functional old roll-up camera she inherited from her grandmother. Its thin, clear body was so scratched and bent she had to look around it to see the scene. When the elevator finally coasted to a stop near the top of the shuttle, she quickly tried to take few more pictures before following her mother into the vestibule. 

The air in the tiny beige hallway was stale and dry. The sound of the wind easily penetrated the thin, nylon walls surrounding mother and daughter. The electrical hum of the shuttle’s generators barely muffled by the enclosure seemed to vibrate Emly’s already taut nerves. That cold, sharp anticipation of this irreversible decision was filling her up and chilling her every muscle as she waited for the escort to come through the door at the far end of the hallway. When he finally did, she let out another long-held breath and took her daughter’s hand. 

The gentle handsome face of the escort put Yaro on edge. She felt as if she was piloting her body blindfolded from another room as he helped her wedge her oversized bag into the compartment beside her seat. 

He took his seat across from Emly and Yaro so he could see and speak to both easily. Leaning forward, he introduced himself. 

"Miss Brandt, good to meet you and Yaro. I’m Reza. How was your trip?" 

"Alright. Strange. This still doesn’t seem real." said Emly, her stomach beginning to turn again. 

Reza replied with a sympathetic smile. "What about you?" he asked Yaro. 

She shrugged in reply and studied her bracelets. 

"Have you ever been on a shuttle before?" He glanced at Emly, then Yaro. 

"No, we haven’t," Emly replied. "I did ride in the hopper once, on a trip to Beijing." 

"This is a little different," Reza said. "A much smoother ride, believe it or not." 

As the three of them sat in the surprisingly plush, warm cabin waiting for launch, Emly’s nausea intensified. Her nervousness was impossible to miss. 

"Afraid of flying?" Reza asked. 

"Not really, no. I’ve flown hundreds of times." Emly paused. "It’s just a big move."

"The biggest. If it makes you feel better, this ship is very safe; it has about the best record a vehicle can have." 

"What’s that?" asked Emly, desperate for a distraction. 

"Eighty-seven round-trips, zero crashes or catastrophes. Worst thing that ever happened on one of these was a carpet bug infestation." 

Emly looked around the cabin and tried to discretely scratch her shoulder in response. After a beat, the sympathetic smile returned, and he turned to Yaro. 

"How about you, Yaro? What do you think of this?" he asked, gesturing to indicate the cabin and shuttle in general. 

Yaro looked up at Reza, then back down at her bracelets. She struggled to find a way to describe how she was feeling. After studying the girl for a moment, Reza pressed a small button to call their cabin’s attendant. 

"Is it alright if I turn on the window?" he asked. 

From speakers above Reza’s seat, a female voice replied, "Yes, certainly. All external sensors are operational." 

Leaning over to where Yaro was seated, Reza reached to pull a monitor out from beside the arm of her chair. 

"This is really fun, I think you’ll like this." 

Curiosity piqued, the girl watched him as he swiveled the monitor to face her. With a firm swipe along the smooth top edge, Reza activated it. An opaque, vivid image of the ground beneath the shuttle’s exhaust flickered onto the surface. 

"You can see everything out there. If you tap here," Reza tapped the very center of the window as he spoke, "it starts recording." 

Yaro took the screen into her hands and pulled it up to her face. As she moved it, the view followed the position of the screen, displaying the coastline outside the shuttle. As Yaro pulled the screen up above her head, she gasped as the vast, blue sky appeared. Pulling the window back down and turning it to the side revealed a perfect view of the ocean. 

"Excited now?" Reza asked. 

"Yeah," said Yaro, breathless. Her smile faded into a thoughtful arc, "I wonder if this is what people feel like when they know they’re dying." 

Reza just laughed and shook his head. "That’s an...interesting thought." 

Yaro blushed and tried to busy herself with the critical task of getting close-ups of the waves and seagulls outside. 

"How long will it take to get to the Space Station?" Emly asked the escort, in an effort to distract her daughter from her embarrassment. 

Reza answered, "We should be lifting off in the next few minutes, I think. Then it’ll be about twenty-five minutes to reach the station, and another 15 to 20 to dock. After that, we gather your things and board the ship." 

"Have you been on the ship?" asked Emly. 

"I have. I live in Quarter 2." 

"That’s a pretty nice one, isn’t it?" Emly asked. 

"Class-2. Sort of upper middle-class, middle class I’d say. Nothing as nice as where you’ll be living, but it’s comfortable." 

Yaro looked up from the window. "It’s so weird thinking I’m going to be living on a spaceship." 

"It does take a little getting used to," Reza agreed. "I have to stop referring to it as a ship; it doesn’t feel like one. You’ll see. It’s bigger than you can imagine. I’ve been up there for almost a year and still haven’t seen everything in my Quarter." A loud, mechanical groan interrupted the escort before he could describe the ship in detail. "Sounds like we’re disengaging. Flip that screen so the back is facing you." 

Yaro obeyed, and the image jumped to the back of the window. Instead of the beautiful ocean view, the beige vestibule appeared. Slowly, the walls began to crease and the floor receded. When she tilted the screen down slightly, she could see dozens of identical nylon cocoons collapsing into the big, glass tower behind her.

A low rumble filled the cabin, and Reza tried to reassure the mother and daughter. "Don’t worry, we’ll be docking in no time."