Twelve

Our next-to-last day of training. We leave the day after tomorrow. Samira has begun to panic about the excursion, just a little, and Budur and Zariah are taking turns comforting her. Zariah, as a former asteroid miner, knows a bit about long space travel, although no human has yet flown for three long weeks. Not under the auspices of the corporations, anyway. We’re not sure how it will feel. On that, no one can reassure us.

We spent the whole day learning to repair carbon fiber with printed patches and makeshift glue. It’s easy enough to pick up, but important enough for our survival that we spent 12 solid hours doing repetitive work, even taking our skills throughout Moon Base to patch up meteorite holes that leeched precious air into space.

I am beginning to wonder about our medical facilities. We’ve been dealing with many cuts and bruises today, and no one has said anything about medical training or shipping medicines in and out. If we slice ourselves while working, will we just have to use rags and hope the wound doesn’t become infected? Is salt water a good disinfectant?

While we welded resin patches into an isolated corridor, I asked Ihsan if she knew anything about medicines, and if that was something we could produce. She thought about my question for a long moment, and finally said, “Where I come from, we use herbs.”

I thought about this statement for a moment. I couldn’t think of anywhere in our country that doesn’t use doctors and prescription medication, but perhaps there was an alcove somewhere. “Where do you come from?” I asked.

Now, Ihsan has agreed to let me disclose this information, and it will definitely shock most of you out there.

Apparently, Ihsan is actually a foreign bride. I’ve never met one before myself, but I’ve read the same stories that all of you have in the papers, about how they’re taking precious men away from various castes, and trying to infiltrate our country. Ihsan was very clear that she did not intend to infiltrate, and in fact wishes now that she had never left her town.

She grew up along the edge of the tumultuous Chukchi Sea, in village called Volny Linii. Originally, her town was an outpost to monitor the rise of the encroaching ocean, but as the weather warmed, more people moved into Wave Line, to fish and farm far away from failing government powers. Everyone in the town farmed, she told me, and took turns fishing in the winter. One of their main crops was herbs, apparently, used for medicine, and sometimes traded with nearby towns. She only left because a fishing boat from our country landed in her village and promised the large group of unmarried young women a place of honor if they would come along. It wasn’t a place of honor, though – it turns out, it was a place of servitude, of prostitution. She told me that her husband never courted her, and only wanted her to please him and eventually have his children. She used her herbal knowledge to protect herself against pregnancy – something I thought only surgery could do! – and finally sued for divorce after spilling her story to an attorney.

“Herbs are very useful,” she said, and pulled her welding mask back over her face.

During dinner, I made sure that we discussed what herbs would be necessary.

“Best that we grew,” Ihsan said, as everyone leaned over their soup in rapt attention, “were willow tree, for high fever, and tea tree, for infection. Sometimes aloe works for that, too. Coffee senna keeps stomach and bowels regular, and eucalyptus helps sinus troubles. Ashoka keeps swelling down while infection clears, and alfalfa keeps urinary tract healthy. These I recommend most, but long list of herbs will be needed if company sends no other medicines.”

Haven, ever the diligent defender, said, “I’m sure they will send us with antibacterial pills and pain relievers. Those don’t weigh much.”

“But they take up space,” Zariah retorted. “Miners usually just let themselves get sick from injury until they return to Earth.”

Yuda added, “Medicine is expensive. Bainbridge had a cycle of trading refurbished computers at the end of every year for a shipment of acetaminophen and penicillin, because no one in your country takes those drugs anymore. It still took us most of a year’s labor to afford them, even though they’re otherwise rotting in a warehouse somewhere.”

“But if they want us to work, then some part of our labor will go to our medical care,” Haven argued. “That’s how it always is.”

Durada snorted. “The food industry doesn’t care about the people that produce what you eat, they only care that their consumers don’t get sick enough to complain. When I had workers take ill, I was supposed to fire them and get their families off my land. I never did that, but I also had a healthier work force than the other farmers around me.”

“What are you implying?” Though almost a whisper, Haven’s voice seemed to echo in the empty cafeteria.

“I’m saying,” Durada replied, without hesitation, “that if it is not cost-effective, we won’t get medicine. So we should take Ihsan’s advice and figure out a way to get those seeds to make our own.”

Haven tensed, offended by her fellow Bakalov’s borderline delusional outlook. I decided I should interject.

“It’s true that the company is worried about cost,” I said, looking around the table into everyone’s eyes, as I had been trained to do. “If we express this concern to them, however, they might agree that it is more cost-effective for us to grow our own medicinal herbs. Now, drug patents might get in the way, so we may only be able to take herbs that are generic active ingredients now, but if we grow our own, then our CEOs won’t have to budget to send us medicines, or allow their workforce to slowly decline due to illness and injury. Both of those situations cost them money, and sending us with some extra seeds probably costs less money.”

Vivien mumbled “Desk jockey” under her breath. I chose to ignore her.

Haven’s eyes filmed over with deep thoughts, then she slowly began to nod in agreement. “I will talk to them tonight,” she finally said, and stood, leaving her full soup bowl behind.

Durada inclined her head to me. “It’s not a perfect solution, but thank you,” she said.

“Now we just need first aid training,” Zariah griped. “Surgery with a hacksaw and a shaky hand is the last thing I want.”

Samira shut her swollen eyes and almost swooned. For an Ikin, she has a delicate stomach.

Eleven

Today was the fifth day of training. Two more days, and we’ll be sent out into space. I feel like I just got over my disorientation from the ride over here. On the other hand, I am beginning to miss gravity, and I can’t wait to take these magnetic boots off once and for all!

Our focus today was on octopus training, which took all day with no breaks. Our instructor was a thick-nosed Gadhavi, who worked for a marine salvage operation that uses trained Giant Octopuses, rather than humans in wet suits or submarines, to recover bits of flooded cities. We’ll be using Giant Octopuses as well, so Breathe Easy sent this trainer, Zahid, to teach us. I think he just arrived yesterday, because he still seemed unsure how to walk in the magnetic shoes.

There was a giant tank in the training room, taking up most of the space that we had been using to sit. We crowded against the back wall instead, while a huge, bumpy octopus, the color of ancient wet brick, waved a tentacle against the glass of its tank. Its suckers opened and closed in a mesmerizing pattern.

Zahid’s magnetic boots clanged against the floor as he walked over to the tank, and the octopus twitched another arm toward him.

“This is Olive, our third and currently oldest octopus working for us,” Zahid said, after he steadied himself against the thick clear plastic. “She has been with our fleet for nearly ten years, and we’re retiring her soon.” He looked almost wistful as he began to open a tiny lid of the tank, and one of Olive’s arms reached out to him. He pulled a fleshy piece of I’m not sure what out of his pocket and the tentacle took it out of his fingers, pulled it down and the food disappeared into the octopus’s folds.

“She’s a great demonstrator for you, since she already knows training steps, and I won’t have to reinforce her too much,” Zahid continued. “Reinforcing, by the way, is basically rewarding good behavior with food. There’s no perfect way to punish an octopus that won’t make him or her retreat, so we focus on positive reinforcement instead.”

He pulled another fleshy chunk from his pocket and handed it to Olive. She ate the food item faster this time, and moved the blob of her body closer to his edge of the tank. Another tentacle moved to the top of the tank and stayed there. Zahid stroked it like most people pet cats, and the tip of the tentacle curled around his wrist with each stroke.

“To train an octopus to move objects for you can be difficult,” he said, gazing deep into Olive’s milky eyes. “However, they are highly intelligent creatures, so the key to training with food is to respect them as creatures with many of the same needs and wants as you and I.”

Natsuki, Vivien, and Ihsan all nodded, and Durada scratched her neck. Samira’s eyes were practically bulging from her skull, and I swear she subtly leaned away from the tank.

Zahid pulled a container from a large cargo pocket in his suit, and handed it to Olive. She immediately pulled it down and, as best I can describe it, sat on it. She folded her body around the jar, skin pulsing.

“She’s figuring out how to open the jar,” Zahid said, finally looking at us. “Octopuses are great at solving puzzles, so it will only take her a minute to figure out how to take the lid off.”

Sure enough, the jar moved forward into Olive’s tentacles, and after suction cups attached along the lid, she pulled, and the lid popped off. Another squishy bit of fleshy substance sat at the bottom of the jar, and she practically crawled into the small space to inhale the food.

“Because octopuses have no bones, they are able to fit into very tight spaces,” Zahid cooed, more to Olive than to us. “That makes them great for salvage operations, and also very easy to transport or protect when, for example, a typhoon comes through and we need to pull our equipment out of the water.”

Zahid stomped over to a box near the door and pulled out a black cylinder, returned to the tank, and dropped it in. Moon Base’s miniscule gravity kept it from settling to the bottom immediately, and Olive grabbed the object and sat on it, feeling the object out. When she realized there was nothing to open on the cylinder, she moved it through her tentacles, waving the object back and forth in front of her eyes and pinching it with her suckers. Slowly, the object began making its way back to the top of the tank, and when it was within Zahid’s vicinity, he tossed another piece of food into the tank. Olive grabbed it with an arm and inhaled it, forgetting about the cylinder and letting the tentacle settle. When she did not immediately receive another piece of food, she moved the arm with the cylinder back toward the surface, and Zahid rewarded the motion with food. Finally, after a little back and forth, the tentacle came out of the water and Zahid took the cylinder, tossing a final piece of food into the tank.

“She figured out that I wanted the cylinder because I rewarded her motions in the right direction,” he said as he wiped the cylinder on his suit. “I’m going to put this back in the tank now, and she will be much more familiar with the object and what to do about it.”

He placed the cylinder back into the tank, and Olive grabbed it. Immediately the arm holding the object shot back out of the water, sprinkling the air with droplets from the tank. Zahid tossed some food to her. “See?” he said. If Olive had been a dog, I have no doubt Zahid would have trilled praises to her. He may have been stifling the tendency for our class’s benefit.

Zahid passed various objects to all of us so we could try the training method on Olive. Each time, we had the same result – food rewards helped directionality. Vivien understood immediately what to do. I admit that I cringed away from the tentacle when it finally returned my object, a large yellow pyramid. But Olive’s skin was not as slimy as I thought, and was almost warm to the touch due to the ambient temperature of the water.

“So,” Vivien said, while Chloe stepped up to the tank, “we’re expected to train our octopus fleet to lift drums of water to the surface and make sure they stay there. Handing objects back to us is fascinating, sir, but I am not sure how this translates into our mining operation.”

Zahid looked Vivien up and down, noting her typical Ikin physique, and scowled. “Obviously, you put food on the sides of the container,” he said, as though that should have been obvious to all of us. Personally, I was glad Vivien thought to ask, because I was unclear on this subject myself. “And you will have to lure them along the correct route with a food trail. This could be a few weeks in the making, and as you go, you want to make sure they get less food reward, so that they can learn to follow all the steps before expecting anything.”

“But we will have to reward them at the end of every pick-up day?” Vivien retorted. Zahid heaved a sigh and nodded. “That’s a lot of extra food we have to produce,” Vivien said, staring straight at Zahid’s eyes. He refused to make eye contact with her. She was being awfully rude for an Ikin, but instead of feeling as though I should ask her to stop, on behalf of my fellow Gadhavi, I wanted to hug and thank her.

“The food you make isn’t my problem,” Zahid finally snapped. “I’m telling you that this is how we train our fleet.”

Ghadir stepped toward the two, and lowered her gaze like a good Senfte. “Perhaps,” she said softly, lilting her voice into a higher register, “we could coordinate the barrel transfer operation with a large meal. We will be responsible for feeding these beautiful creatures anyway.” I saw her eyes slide sideways to watch Zahid’s reaction. He tilted his nose into the air and inhaled, pleased to finally receive the respect he thought he deserved.

Vivien plucked at a lip with her fingers, but finally nodded. “That’s a good idea, Ghadir, thank you.” Zahid chewed his cheek and looked back to Olive’s training session, apparently irritated that an Ikin would speak to a Senfte as an equal.

Over dinner that night, discussion ran very deep about the best way to train our octopuses. During a short lull in the conversation, I looked at Vivien and said, “Thank you for asking the obvious, important question today.”

She shrugged. “I like you okay, Aelis, and you too, Chloe, but I’ve never liked most Gadhavi I’ve run across. I’m used to talking to a Bakalov boss, but I haven’t had to bow or scrape to anyone much and I don’t intend to start now.”

I can understand that many of you reading this are shocked. Sometimes I feel shocked myself, but this is really another argument for creating a “Rabbah” caste. We just work so well together, all of us, and it is so much easier to be on a conversant level with these hard-working women.

Ten

Today’s lesson, finally, was about farming on Rabbah. We have limited space, so it will be difficult, but we went back over the settlement’s ground plan and there is in fact some space set aside for food. There’s a bay area, where the original inhabitants kept underwater vehicles, tiny pods that were mostly camera and memory bank to explore the Europan ocean. We talked about how to use the decompression area to release the animals we’re bringing – fish and octopuses – and allow for some water to flood in to help grow food.

It looks like we’ll start out mostly with algae, which we can convert into almost anything. Seaweed is also a good source of nutrients, so we’re bringing red seaweed and kelp. We’ll use mussels, scallops, and tube worms around the outside of the habitat to help naturally insulate the colony, because it will be very cold outside and we don’t want to waste power – both electrical systems’ power and our bodies’ own heat – on merely staying warm. As I mentioned before, we’ll also grow and train octopuses to help us with the cargo. We’ll bring some fish eggs with us to grow shrimp and vertebrate fish for our octopuses to eat, which will hopefully keep them away from the mollusks lining Rabbah. Our instructor today told us that we can eat these creatures, but that strikes me as a waste. Vivien and Natsuki didn’t seem to like the suggestion too much, either, so we’ll stick to kelp and mussels, I think.

Once we get a good nutrient balance with the help of these water-based animals and plants, we should be able to start growing more complicated food, after we’ve had time to make our own compost to create soil beds. We’ll bring the first wave of seeds – tomatoes and lettuces, mostly – and the second wave will come as we send water to Earth. We’ll get strawberries, vine beans, soy beans, grapes. We won’t be able to grow cereals, fruit trees or squashes, because they need too much space that we just can’t spare.

I asked if we could potentially use areas of the base like around the edges of the walls for foods that require less root structure – mushrooms or asparagus, something like that. The instructor looked at me with puzzlement, and I didn’t get a satisfactory answer so I think I might try it anyway. Moon Base has been so successful growing plants for air and filtration along their shallow, ancient walls.

I am very impressed with Ghadir. She asked many pertinent questions about food storage and cooking, which can also require a lot of time and energy that we may not otherwise have. The instructor tried to calm her by insisting that we can eat almost all of what we grow fresh, minimal processing, and we shouldn’t need to store anything. However, I stand with her line of reasoning. Algae need to be processed to be edible, for example, and while some people like raw seafood, I’ve never been a fan. Granted, I’ve lived far away from oceans my entire life, so maybe home-grown seafood will be better. I can hope.

Ghadir kept looking skeptically at the instructor, and when we broke for lunch – rice gruel with some kind of salty protein that I couldn’t identify – she shuffled all of us close together at the same table to lay out her plan.

“We need to find a way to either make or bring containers,” she said. “The chances of a crop failure are higher than we’ve been told, and I don’t want us to starve.”

“We’ll have nutrient loaves with us, enough for a full year they said,” Samira quietly suggested, her large eyes wider than usual. She has a way of looking like an adorable young deer, and my heart always goes out to her at those times.

“Yes, that’s true,” Ghadir said, “but that’s assuming we only eat one of those per day, and if we don’t, we could run out more quickly. We also don’t want to suffer depression from food boredom. That’s something we’re taught in restaurants, that when the menu changes, we have to make sure it is always exciting enough that patrons will come back for more.”

“I agree, we need to store our yield,” Durada chimed in. “I’ve seen crops fail, and I’ve seen how hard lean times can be.”

“I had to live on nutrient loaf for months when I was on the chain gang,” Zariah said. “It doesn’t taste like anything, and after awhile you forget you have a sense of taste and smell. Things around you stop seeming real, because you’re missing these sensations. I saw miners practically turn into zombies, stop conversing with each other, because they couldn’t sense anything on that most basic level. Compared to that, this slop,” she held up a spoonful of gruel to emphasize her point, “is delicious. We definitely want to be careful about what we eat. We should consider how to supplement the nutrient loaves with other foods at first, so our taste buds don’t atrophy.”

I nodded and said, “I’ve heard about that phenomenon. When miners return to Earth, they’re hedons, gluttons.”

“So we need to figure out how to make storage containers when we’re there,” Ghadir said. “We’ll have to make preservatives from scratch, too.”

Natsuki delicately raised her calloused hand. “My parents made wine and vinegar from all kinds of things that we grew on the farm, so I think we could use algae for that. Usually we used algae for fuel, but it ferments well enough. We could pickle much of what we have with briny water and then, when vinegar is ready, preserve it for longer that way.”

Ghadir grinned. “Vinegar, you know, that reminds me of a dish we made in the restaurant most summers, called ceviche. You put a bunch of fish in a bowl and cover it with vinegar or lemon juice, and the acid will cook the food for you. It’s a different texture from heat-cooked fish, of course, but it tastes rather nice if you spice it well.”

Yuda and Zariah looked at each other, and Yuda stuck out her tongue. “Bainbridge has a huge pickled fish factory,” she said, “and it always smells rotten.”

“Well, parts of the colony are going to smell funny,” Haven interrupted. “We’re going to deal with our own waste, and fermentation is never pretty. Besides, maybe Europa itself just smells awful. We’ll have to get used to it.”

Budur wrinkled her nose at Haven, but Ghadir smiled. “I’ve learned a lot about food preservation, so we should be able to work something out. I’m glad all of you agree with me about this, though. We have to make provisions for ourselves if we’re going to keep the colony going, and eventually feed more people.”

Zariah said, “We might be able to use resin to make food containers. If we can convince this business that it’s worth sending extra printer material to us, of course.”

We all furrowed our brows together and thought about the engineering aspects of food containers. “It would have to be a durable material, to withstand brine and acid,” Ghadir finally said. Zariah nodded, but before she could reply, we were called back into class.

The second half of the instruction focused on the architecture of building the actual space for our plants, and how to release pressure at a slower rate by bringing in some of Europa’s seawater to the compartment. Like everything, it will be a multistage process involving a printer and disassembling bits and pieces of our landing craft. I hope we can get the garden up and running quickly, and although it is not our first official priority, it is our first survival priority.

We tried to get a little further in our knitting circle tonight as well, but Breathe Easy’s lessons have been so long and thorough for the past several days that it was difficult for us to concentrate. Budur got us as far as casting yarn onto our needles and one basic stitch, but none of us are on our way to making sweaters yet.

Nine

Breakfast and lunch aside, day three on Moon Base has been excellent. We reviewed computer code, and simple crystal replacement, then moved on to the air filtration system. Here’s where things have become very interesting for me. I did not realize how much fabric is used to clear particles, and how complicated the apparatus used to communicate filter quality to the computer! Apparently, the specs we learned are based on Breathe Easy’s own factories, so I can’t go into too many details about them. However, I can say that it starts with algae blooms and moves through a series of meshes that are calibrated through computer programs to filter out harmful particulates in the oxygen.

I suggested that we involve our actual garden in the creation of oxygen – make the best use of space and all that – but the instructor said that we should stick to this system, and perhaps use the garden as a backup for breathable air.

I noticed Durada staring at me when I asked the question, so I smiled at her. She didn’t smile, but she nodded to me. I’m proud of myself for reaching out to a different caste.

We learned how to change and mend filters, too, and our sewing skills finally came into play. Chloe mastered the art, as well as Budur, who has a thorough knowledge of fibercraft. The Ikin stumbled through the exercise and Vivien in particular looked terribly embarrassed, but so it goes sometimes. We can’t be good at everything. I was awful as programming, so I sympathize.

We gathered for dinner after a nearly 13-hour day, and slurped a weakened, metallic-vitamin-flavored green soup before stumbling back to our room. Budur insisted, despite many of our drawn faces, that we give the knitting group a try, and began handing out the softest yarn I think I have ever held.

“I brought this with me,” she said, by way of explanation without explaining anything. I think most of us understood not to ask exactly how she acquired it before we arrived on Moon Base. She also handed out uneven plastic knitting needles.

We all fingered them uneasily, trying to find a way to settle them against our hands without hurting our knuckles. Zariah held one of hers up to a light, and said, “Did you use Base’s printer for these?”

A nervous laugh escaped Budur’s throat. We all looked at her expectantly. “Eh, yes?” she replied.

Zariah nodded. “You’ve never used a CAD program before, huh?”

“No,” Budur admitted. Zariah turned to look at her.

“It’s okay, I just think I could make us all some better ones. I made printers all the time when I was on Bainbridge, so I’m familiar with coding for them and making items.”

Budur’s jaw fell open. I had to bite my cheeks to keep my own more politely closed.

“When did you do these?” Zariah asked.

“Uh …”

“It can take several hours to make 12 pairs, how did you manage this?”

“I … made friends with the printers’ manager,” she replied, and bit her lip. Yuda cackled.

“Did you FLIRT with him?” she demanded. Zariah snorted, the Ikin openly grinned, and I couldn’t stop myself from feeling a pang, bittersweet for the good times before marriage.

Budur smiled at the rest of the group. “It didn’t start that way, I actually just wanted to ask about their policy with using the printers and for how long, but he really took to me and he kept smiling so I thought, if all I do is smile back and laugh at his jokes, then what harm is there? At least I’ve paid to use the printer somehow.”

Zariah pushed the corners of her smile down. “Seriously, though, if we can get back in there, I will show you how to make better ones. In the meantime, if you melt these under the lights and smooth the edges with a rag, you can straighten them a little.”

We all nodded and began work on correcting our needles.

It turns out that it’s true, we do all have important skills to bring to this mission. Some, like Zariah, like Vivien, like Ihsan and Durada, have survived hard times and know how to push through the despair. People like Chloe and I, and maybe even Ghadir, bring curiosity, and I think we could help find the answers to many problems that might otherwise remain unsolved. Haven brings a sense of order for us, which ultimately keeps the entire quest moving toward greater things.

It was very late when we arrived back at our room, and it was much later by the time we finished reworking our needles. We all have decent sets now, I’m glad to say, but I think we might all be a bit sleep-deprived in the morning.