Bringer of Light: Children of Pellas, #1

By M Thomas Apple

In the near future, multinat conglomerates plunder the solar system for raw materials to sell to increasingly hostile governments. The intense competition for resources further out into the solar system results in the establishment of an asteroid-ore processing plant on the dwarf planet of Ceres, run by robots and clones, controlled by humans. Most asteroids are mined from inside the solar system, but any asteroids tracked from outside the solar system are very desirable due to the possibility of new substances being discovered. One such asteroid is discovered by the spaceship Artemis and Captain Clarissa "Riss" Kragen.

To the disappointment of the Artemis crew, the rock is ultimately judged as comprising mostly ice and inert materials, with only some trace substances and no valuable minerals. They turn a chunk of it into drinking water for their own use and send the rest to the burgeoning Mars colony for further processing. Unknown to the crewmembers, the ice contains undetectable alien genetic material from outside the solar system. Before long, the crewmembers begin to hear voices, to experience other dimensionalities, and to learn more about the nature of the universe than they were prepared to. Their internal conflicts and new understanding of reality lead them to establish a new community on Mars, where the conflict sunders the Awakened from the Terrans who refuse to participate. Mars is reborn, and humanity will never be the same…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Horaios Press
• Release date: Mar 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224163014

M Thomas Apple

A native of Upstate New York, M. Thomas Apple gave up his high school dreams of becoming the next Carl Sagan and instead studied languages and literature at Bard College and creative writing at the University of Notre Dame du Lac. Somehow thereafter he managed to get to hired to teach intercultural communication at a university in Kyoto, Japan. He lives in a quasi-traditional Japanese house co-designed with his wife and partially decorated by his two daughters, nestled in the foothills of the mountains and surrounded by lots of cedar and cicada. He occasionally dreams of the (inside the park) homerun he hit in high school and wonders how that would feel on Mars.

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Table of Contents

Bringer of Light (Children of Pellas, #1)

Prelude

1 The Rock

2 Lunar Base

3 The Artemis

4 Mars

5 The Sagittarius

6 The Artemis

7 Mars

8 The Artemis

9 Ceres

10 The Artemis

11 Mars

12 The Sagittarius

13 The Artemis

14 Lunar Base

15 The Artemis

16 The Sagittarius

17 Mars

18 Transit - Luna to Mars

19 The Artemis

20 Luna

21 The Artemis

22 Ceres

23 Luna

24 Ceres

25 Luna

26 Ceres

27 Mars

28 Ceres

29 Mars

30 Transition—Luna to Ceres

31 Mars

32 Transition—Ceres to Luna

33 United Mars Colonies

34 The Sagittarius

35 United Mars Colonies

36 Foundations

37 Ceres

38 United Mars Colonies

Epilogue

Praise for Adam's Stepsons

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Also By M Thomas Apple

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Rami Z Cohen for the inspiration and basic plot for the original story.

Thanks also to my beta readers. Your advice is greatly appreciated!

Lyrics to That’s All Right, by Arthur Big Boy Crudup, courtesy of Genius dot com (public domain).

See Select Sources... at the end of the novel for more information about both the science and the mysticism in the story.

Bringer of Light

Copyright © 2024 M Thomas Apple

All rights reserved. No part of this book, excepting the case of brief quotations for the purposes of critical articles or reviews, may be used or reproduced whatsoever without written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction; while many of the locations in the story are real, any resemblance to real people and events is entirely coincidental. This work was not written by AI. You're welcome.

Layout for this book was done in Scrivener 3.3.1

(www.literatureandlatte.com)

Author website: https://mthomasapple.com/

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Bringer

of Light

M Thomas Apple

Wisdom is a child of pain, and born with many a tear;

But who henceforth,

What man of mortal men, what nation upon earth,

That holdeth nought in awe nor in the light

Of inner reverence, shall worship Right

As in the older day?

The Eumenides, by Aeschylus

Prelude

20 Years Ago

Greater Indian Empire: Vyoma Caripura Space Station

LEANING BACK IN THE Sagittarius’s command chair, Sergey Bardish calmly stroked moustache hairs away from the corner of his mouth and pinched at the tip of his goatee with one hand. His other hand covered the command chair console, fingers tightly curled over the simple, terse message from Earth. He unfurled them and glanced down again at the text.

0730 APRIL 42.

SLAVIC CONFEDERACY INVADE UKRAINIAN UNION.

STOP. NO REPLY.

Bardish made a fist again but resisted the impulse to pound the console. He knew the Confederacy's withdrawal from the Lunar Council the previous year had been a bad omen. A world war would surely follow.

What did that mean for himself and his crew?

He looked around the cramped command module. Gennaji, helm. Lena, navigation. Ildico, astrogeologist.

He grunted involuntarily. Good asteroid hunters, despite their frequent arguments during the long months in the outer system.

The short stay at the VCSS had been meant to allow the Sagittarius to unload its cargo, refuel and replenish the water supply, then head on its way Earthside.

Now they had to change their plans. Bardish couldn’t go home.

His family, his hometown. Who knows who was in charge, how many had died. How many were about to.

Bardish frowned, pinching his slightly greying goatee again as he stared into space. Less than a meter in front of him, crew members quietly manipulated their touch panel control consoles, confirming computer calculations of the trajectory to the Lunar Base, now their only refuge.

Helm, estimated time of arrival, Bardish spoke softly, still staring.

The stocky brown-haired helmsman checked his readings. ETA eighteen hundred hours 15 minutes, Earth Standard.

Bardish grunted again. Let’s go. Release all clamps.

Clamps released, Lena confirmed. Tucked one or two strands of blond hair behind an ear.

He’d have to remind her of that bad habit. Later.

Back us out.

Aye, sir.

The spaceship slipped away from the external docking port, magnetic moorings disappearing from view as thrusters automatically fired to compensate for centrifugal force.

The Sagittarius was a small ship, with no weapons and few amenities. A sturdy craft, slow but strong ion engines. Double-width metal casing surrounded half of its internal cargo space. Perfect design for hauling processed mineral ore from Ceres to Earth.

Bardish also found an additional purpose for the Sagittarius—cheap transport for climate refugees fleeing to a better life off-world.

New residency on the rapidly expanding Lunar Base was supposed to require official approval through the UN Off-world Colonies Committee. But the UN-appointed governor tended to overlook the fact that his crew increased by a handful now and again. After all, it was Bardish’s recovery of an exoplanetary object that had made the Base possible in the first place. They even waived the residency requirement to get him to stay.

Bardish had never thought of himself as an immigrant. A space worker, yes. Maybe even a UN flunky. Not an immigrant. The word seemed so...permanent.

He drummed his fingers against the command console, then glanced down at the pad in his hand. The screen still bore the news of the invasion, but the message had no useful information.

He read it again: The UN advised all asteroid-hunting ships to stay docked at either Lunar Base or the Ceres mining station.

No way in hell, Bardish thought savagely. Damned if I stay put.

—can’t wait to see the blue sky on the Moon. he heard Gennaji whisper to Lena.

Yeah, beats Earthside. Did you hear they found the last caribou? Poor starving thing...

Bardish shifted in his chair and stopped tapping his fingers. Enough, he snapped, then caught himself, clenched a fist.

Sergey, we didn’t mean—

Bardish made as if to slam the fist down on the command console but stopped mid-motion as a sudden bright light flared off the port side.

What was that? he cried.

Fingers flew across the panels as crew members hurried to verify the source. Explosion, sir. Not sure what caused it.

The Sagittarius suddenly shuddered, jerking sideways. Bardish grabbed his command chair, praying that all his crew had remembered to keep their harnesses on following the dock departure. Judging from the sudden curse from Ildico, it sounded like she’d forgotten.

Hard to port! Bardish ordered. Into the shockwave!

After what seemed like ages, the ship veered left, still shaking as the weakening shockwaves dissipated. Earth slowly came into view, followed by a new field of debris streaming away from the planet.

Silence filled the command module.

"Hamno, Bardish swore softly. Steady, helm."

The Earth loomed larger as they approached.

Sergey, there’s too much debris for a single ship, Gennaji said. Two or three, maybe.

Any survivors?

No way of knowing just yet.

How did this happen?

No know of knowing that, either.

Bardish clenched his fist again. He couldn’t assume it was a Ukrainian ship, or a Slavic ship, for that matter. Plenty of nations and consortiums had their own ships. But the timing...

I’ve got something, Lena said.

Bardish leaned forward, gripping the console. What? Where?

Bearing 330 degrees, mark 2, just at the front edge of the debris field. A solid object, maybe what’s left of a ship.

Let’s see it.

A small rectangular inset appeared as a 3D grid overlay on the main screen as the computer zoomed in. Bardish’s fingers flew across the console, and the image clarified.

Surrounded by floating pieces of twisted and blasted metal, the slightly oblong metal object drifted. A lifepod, he breathed.

Engines seem intact, Lena said. "No markings could be identified, but obviously non-military.

Bardish sighed. More refugees from a starving country?

Let’s get a closer look at it.

The Sagittarius slowly snaked through the debris, inching toward the lifepod.

Bardish sat back and waited. He hated waiting.

First to capture an asteroid, the discoverer of ditrium, honored in Ukraine, a celebrity on the Moon...he ought to have been satisfied, happy, even, with his life. But he had no family. 62 wasn’t too old by modern standards, thanks to regenerative nanotech and artificially grown bio-organs, but he couldn’t see himself getting attached. Who did he know, outside his own crew? He made his home on the Moon, having received a conapt gratis in return for the ditrium that made terraforming possible.

He lived on the Moon. When did that happen?

At the thought, he grunted and scratched his goatee, watching their winding creep through the debris field.

Earth’s upper atmosphere was already crowded enough with flotsam from old satellites and discarded rocket boosters. The newest ships sent from Earthside all had lasers and rockets of their own to eliminate any dangerous objects in their path—including ships from other countries, if need be. Space travel in the inner system crawled meter by meter.

By comparison, life on the Moon had been a whirlwind of expansion. Each Earth faction vied for Bardish’s ditrium discovery, each trying to finagle a portion of his success for their own. Scientists around the globe piggybacked on the political ramifications to push for outward expansion into space. Governments and multinats alike threw billions of dollars, pounds, and yuan into terraforming and ship construction.

The Moon, made green with a sustainable, albeit thin atmosphere in a matter of decades thanks to ditrium radiation. The Lunar Base, the launching pad and dock for future space exploration by dozens of ships to Mars, to Ceres, to Titan and beyond.

All made possible by ditrium and the enormous amount of metals mined from asteroids.

In a sense, Bardish’s life had been a great success story. But in other ways, he was simply a tool, a political pawn used by the Slavic Confederacy, the Ukranian Union, the Greater Northern European Alliance, the United American Conglomerates, even the East Asian Coprosperity Partnership. Bardish gained in fame and fortune, but in the end it was peace and quiet he sought.

And self-ownership. Autonomy. He preferred life in space. He revelled in the freedom and independence asteroid-hunting offered. A chance to be his own man. Free from any societal or political restraints.

He thought he could always go home. Back to Chernihiv. Even now he could picture Catherine’s Church, the golden domes and white stone standing high over the green grass.

No, Sergey thought, not green. Not anymore. Mongols, Tartars, Cossacks, Germans...who hadn’t invaded at some point or other? No doubt even Red Square was now little more than a shell of blasted rubble.

He quickly, quietly, crossed himself with his right hand, then coughed into a fist, glanced to see if his crew had noticed. No reaction. Good. He concentrated on the view screen as the Sagittarius finally reached the tiny metal object.

How far now? he asked Lena.

500 meters or so. Captain, we’d better stop here. I’m detecting low levels of radiation from the surrounding fragments.

Bardish cocked an eyebrow. So? We leave the lifepod?

A pause. Why would we want it?

He growled. Money to be made from scrap metal, idiot. Think what the Lunar Base Governor might give us for a few tonnes.

Sergey, it’s all irradiated junk, Gennaji said. One single rock could—

Robot arm retrieval! Bardish snapped, slamming his fist down on the chair. Prepare two retrorockets.

His crew obeyed. They knew better than to question their captain at times like this, when he had obviously already made up his mind. Rockets were readied to attach to the life pod and propel it toward them, the robot arm deployed to catch the lifepod at the entrance to the cargo hold.

Just like catching a rock, Bardish insisted. Just as delicate. Launch!

The rockets shot out from the Sagittarius, attaching themselves to either end of the lifepod. Computer-assisted guidance helped the crew direct the oblong metal container toward them. Ten meters from the open cargo hold door, the arm snagged one end of the pod, then eased it into the hold. The Sagittarius shuddered slightly as the pod landed with a thump.

Seal the cargo door, Bardish ordered, standing up. Gennaji, stay here. The rest, with me. Let’s see what’s inside that pod.

Five minutes later, after the air compressor stopped and the atmospheric pressure returned to safety limits inside the cargo, Bardish wheeled open the heavy steel door connecting the front and back of the Sagittarius. Compared to the command cabin, rank with human sweat, the cargo area smelled as clean as mountain air after a heavy snowfall. The sterile, near-vacuum of space, almost oppressively light.

Sergey, Lena said, waving a pad. Radiation still coming from the pod. Faint.

He grunted. Doubt there are any microbes left.

Still... she shrugged.

Bardish nodded. He touched his wrist panel to call the bridge. Gennaji, prep the ion decontamination showers. Just in case.

Aye, sir.

He broke the connection, then stepped into the cargo hold. He motioned for Lena and Ildico to circle to the back of the lifepod. Hesitantly, reaching out a hand to its smooth surface, Bardish felt for any identifying marks, letters, slogans, anything. The pod was small, the size of a typical family vacation car, rounded at the front and tapering to a boxlike rear engine section. The dual retro-engines were cool to the touch and showed no signs of having been fired. Bardish rubbed his hand along one side, searching for a door or portal of some kind.

A voice came from the opposite side of the pod. Captain. There’s somebody inside.

Bardish ducked underneath the engines. Lena pointed at the pod, Ildico behind her with a hand on her sidearm.

A tiny ovular window, barely as wide as his forehead, chest-high on the pod’s side. To the right of the window, he could see the outline of a door with a handle depression in the middle. Finally, he thought, reaching for the handle and peering into the window.

He caught his breath.

It was a girl. A young child, perhaps 5 or 6 years old, lying in what appeared to be a sleeping bag, her eyes closed.

"Khrystos, nekhay ne bude..." he muttered, wrenching open the door without thinking. A sudden gust of wind let him know that the lifepod had been properly pressurized to slightly above Earth gravity. He reached into the open chamber through the squat door frame, bending at the waist and touching the foot of the sleeping bag. The girl stirred and began to move.

Easy, easy, now, he said, speaking softly.

There was a zipper along one side of the sleeping bag, which he carefully pulled down. The girl began to rock her head back and forth, whimpering. Her arms stuck out and waved above her head, but her eyes remained shut.

Papa...

Papa tut, Bardish began, then caught himself. Behind him, an amused Lena repeated, Papa? Papa’s here? Where?

He spun and glared at her.

Papa? Wo ist Mama?

Bardish’s hand shook and dropped the zipper. German? She was German? But then...

The girl opened her eyes and stared at Bardish.

Gde moy papa? she cried, backing out of the sleeping bag. Bardish now noticed that she was fully clothed, in regular day time clothing rather than night clothes, and was even wearing sneakers. As she stood up, a small plastic pouch fell out of the pocket at the front of her sweatshirt. Wo ist mein Papa? Wer bist du? Gde ya?

Lena put a hand on Bardish’s shoulder. She’s switching back and forth from German to Russian. Is she—?

He shook his head. Let me see what’s in the package here.

He held his hands up to the girl, trying to calm her down.

It’s OK, it’s OK. Ah, you don’t speak English, sorry. Dobre, dobre, vse bude dobre, vse budet khorosho.

She started shaking, holding her arms crossed in front of her.

Do you understand me, child? Bardish continued, first in Ukranian, then in Russian.

She nodded.

Can you speak Russian?

She shook her head.

Just a little?

She nodded, and tears began to burst down her cheeks.

Bardish extended his arms. Come. I won’t hurt you. I promise. Let’s see if we can find your mother and father.

The girl started shaking her head, then slowly nodded and came to the door. Bardish gently lifted her out of the pod and placed her on her feet. He knelt down in front of her and stroked her henna-brown hair, a gesture he hoped would soothe her.

What’s your name? he tried.

The girl shook her head.

Ah. Namen. Your namen. Bardish paused.

Wie heißt du? Lena said. The girl looked up at her, as did Bardish.

Lena shrugged.

Clarissa, the girl finally said in a quiet voice.

She looked back at Bardish, defiantly. Clarissa Kragen.

For the first time, he noticed her eyes were hazel, a steely grey color with flecks of dancing green. Clarissa, he thought. The sole survivor of...what?

He turned back to the pod, reached in and retrieved the plastic pouch. It was a sealed bag with small red and green booklets inside. Passports.

He showed the pouch to Clarissa. Can I open this?

She looked at him blankly. He repeated the words twice more, gesturing, and finally she nodded. He still wasn’t sure whether it was because she couldn’t understand him, or because of what she had been through.

Bardish prised open the pouch and removed the passports. One for Clarissa’s German father, one for her Russian mother, two for her. That explained it. He sighed, scanning the faces of the girl’s parents.

Had they been in the ship? There was no way of knowing. For all he knew, the girl could have been placed asleep in the lifepod prior to takeoff. Somehow, though, that seemed unlikely. However, the girl was in no condition to be questioned right now. It would have to wait.

As he opened Clarissa’s Russian passport, confirming her identity, a small, folded piece of paper fell out into his lap.

Whoever finds this, he read in Russian, please take care of our daughter. She is innocent in all this.

More was written beneath in German, which he could not read, but assumed meant the same, followed by English, which did say the same. It was as if they had known what was going to happen but had no idea who might find their daughter.

But what had happened? He had no answers. He could not return Earthside to find out, not now, not until things settled down. The best he could do was continue on his course and bide his time.

He put the passports back into the pouch. He put the folded paper into his jacket pocket.

Clarissa looked at him. She had calmed immensely, occasionally fidgeting but maintaining her silence as she surveyed the cargo area. What must she be thinking? Bardish wondered. He’d no experience with children, being the youngest of four and having spent half his life in space surrounded by loners like himself.

A half-German, half-Slavic child.

Russian.

He felt rage bubble up, his face reddening, but he forced himself to relax. Closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He let out a deep breath before speaking again, in his rusty Russian. The language of the enemy.

Clarissa, we’re going to the Moon. Do you want to come with us?

She simply looked at him and folded her arms.

He sighed and tried again. We’re going to look for your Mama and Papa. Will you help us find them? It may take some time.

The girl pursed her lips and screwed up her face a bit before nodding curtly.

Bardish offered his hand to her. My name is Cap...Sergey. My name is Sergey.

She shyly took up his hand and held it to her cheek before letting it drop.

Vy posmotrite, kak moy papa, she said. You look like my papa. At last, a smile appeared on her tear-streaked face.

Bardish thought it was the most wonderful thing he’d ever seen.

And it twisted him up inside.

1 The Rock

Qiānlǐ zhī xíng, shǐyú zúxià.

[A journey of a thousand li starts beneath one's feet]

Tao Te Ching, 64

THE HORIZON FELT SO close on the asteroid, the area around her illuminated only by the Hopper and her own helmet light. Clarissa imagined herself stepping off into space, arms outstretched. Floating...

She shook her head. She ought to return to the Hopper in case a rival hunter ship arrived. Even this far out, on a transneptunian object, she didn’t have the luxury of fantasizing on the job. Her crew deserved better. She bounded back to the small reconnaissance craft.

Captain, came a deep East African voice over her helmet comm. How much of a sample do we need to lay claim?

At least two tubes, Coop. I can give you a hand if you need.

I’m the astrogeologist, right? I can handle it.

All right, geist. Just make sure to keep your gravboots on so you don’t float away from the TNO like last time.

Like, like last time? Wh—

She cut the comm off. Overhead she could just make out the Artemis, its inelegant, bulky shape barely visible in the pitch black of space. As she entered the Hopper, she made a mental note to have Enoch turn down the external lights. No point in standing out more than they already did.

She thought of her crew as she waited in outer airlock for the pressure to equalize. A smirk spread across her tired face. Her crew. Three misfits who called Luna home but spent most of their time chasing asteroids.

While fighting amongst themselves, of course, she thought. Sergey had thought her style too permissive, particularly compared to Gennaji. But then again...

The all-clear light blinked, and she entered the command module. Removing her helmet, she let it float next to her then sat in the command chair. Time for a systems check. It never hurt to be prepared, especially when former colleagues were gunning for her.

The comm light blinked on the panel above the main screen. She searched the control panels, flicked a switch.

Riss. This is Enoch. We just got pinged.

Another hunter?

"Yeah. Coming in soon. Listen to this.

The familiar baritone voice echoed around the hopper.

This is the Captain of the Sagittarius. That’s my rock you’re standing on. Get off.

Schiesse, Riss thought. He’s here already.

Alright, Enoch, stall for time. I’ll call the others.

Right. Get back to you in a minute.

She flicked another switch to change the comm channel.

Coop, how we doing on those samples?

Almost there, the astrogeologist’s voice sounded over the comm. This old soil sniffer takes time to analyze the—

Cut it short, geist. Grab what you can. We gotta go.

Abruptly she cut to another channel.

Sanvi. Status.

Just about back to Coop’s position.

How many tractors did you find?

Two. Both in pretty bad shape.

Crap. OK, we’ll have to come back for the rest.

Roger.

She cut the channel again. No response from the Artemis. Enoch was still stalling, she guessed. She hoped he hadn’t been attacked. Surely even Gennaji wouldn’t go that far.

A clanging noise from the chamber next door, then a muffled curse. Riss smiled as she plotted the return course. Other captains would have let their crew handle the asteroid landing. Not her. She had to be first. Just like Sergey.

Let it be ditrium, not just iron, she prayed. Just like his.

The inside ship door slid open, and her pilot emerged. She threw a misshapen piece of metal on the floor behind Riss then closed the hatch.

What’s left of one of our anti-rotation grav tractors, I assume, Riss said.

Yeah. The other one was too heavy, so I left it.

Riss sighed. It couldn’t be helped. Expensive to lose, but first they had more important things to take care of.

Where’s that geist?

Said he wanted to pack up things.

Riss flicked the comm switch again.

Coop, forget the damn sniffer. Get those samples in here!

But—

She cut the switch. Next to her Sanvi began to strap into her flight harness. Riss checked the controls. Ready to go.

The hatch opened again.

You got the samples?

Yeah. He held up the tubes.

Good job. Strap in.

The Hopper lifted without a sound from the asteroid. Riss relaxed as Sanvi took over the controls.

Coop. Anything interesting?

Cooper shook his head. Haven’t had a chance to finish the analysis yet. I’ve got more equipment on the Artemis that can handle it.

Better than the sniffer?

About the same, but faster.

Riss, look, Sanvi cut in.

They could now see the Artemis clearly. Facing her was a smaller, older ship. The Sagittarius.

Cooper got up from his seat for a better view.

Wow, that thing looks ancient, he said.

Like old friends, Sanvi said. She adjusted the thrusters as they approached.

Riss said nothing. She folded her arms and stared at the Sagittarius.

Wait, you know these people? Cooper asked.

Sanvi glanced at Riss, who still remained silent.

Cooper looked back and forth at both of them. Am I missing something?

Sanvi finally spoke. The Sagittarius is Riss’s old ship.

Sergey’s ship, Riss finally said. Not mine.

Sergey! Cooper said, punching his hand. Captain Sergey Bardish! Of course!

Sanvi and Riss both turned to look at him.

What? he said.

Riss turned back to the window. I was only in command temporarily. Because Sergey asked me to.

That’s not what Gennaji claims, Sanvi replied, flicking switches. Altering course.

Let’s just find out what he wants, Riss said sharply. She touched the comm panel. Enoch, what’s the situation?

Gennaji is still insisting that we let him board. Says he wants to talk to you.

Oh? So he doesn’t know I was on the rock?

I thought he knew your MO, but looks like—

I don’t care what it ‘looks like,’ and I care even less to have that bastard on my ship.

He says if we don’t let him board, he’ll report us to the Consortium as thieves.

Thiev— Riss turned red and sputtered. We won the TNO lottery fair and square.

Sanvi interrupted. Gennaji probably doesn’t see it that way, Riss.

Riss took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

All right, Enoch. Tell him he can board. But only him.

OK, I’ll tell him. But he won’t like it.

Whatever. Prep Airlock 1. We’re coming in.

Roger.

Riss cut the comm off. The Artemis loomed in front of them, almost entirely upside down. The Sagittarius wasn’t straight up, either, floating at a sideways angle to the Artemis.

This, the geist said. This, uh, isn’t what I expected ships would look like in space.

You thought they would meet face to face or something? Sanvi said.

He looked at her and nodded quickly, then stared back out the window.

There’s no up or down, she said. No left or right. Only Space.

Kind of makes my brain hurt.

You get used to it, Riss said. Take us in.

Sanvi nodded, moving her hands quickly. Cutting port thrusters.

The Hopper adjusted course. They were on top of the Artemis now. Or underneath, from the Artemis crew’s perspective. Cooper craned his neck. His dark skin seemed to have grown paler. Riss guessed that the prospect of going down into the ship and then suddenly being right-side-up did not appeal much to his stomach.

Coop.

Yeah.

Have a seat.

Yeah.

The geist strapped himself in. Riss glanced back. He tugged at his suit collar and rubbed a hand over his head. Must be feeling queasy, she thought.

Coop, she called out with a note of sympathy. Take a breath. Focus. Think of the TNO.

He nodded, then closed his eyes.

The Hopper shuddered as it touched the Artemis.

Automatic guidance engaged, Sanvi announced. Lock established. Seal firm. Good to go.

Good work, Riss said. "OK, everybody. Prep your