Ravana's Shadow (8) (Patreon)

Kit brought the Institute together the next morning, just like she said she would. 

Waiting longer might give the departments more time to prepare and make her information more accurate when she finally got to share it. But if she waited much longer, she might not get to decide what the citizens learned. Rumors were already whirling, each one more bizarre than the last. Some said she’d decided to force everyone into Remedial, while others said she was going to tear the Institute down to fix the Aether and fly away.

Jay didn’t spend the morning preparing with her—instead, he was setting up the central dome with a few of Forerunner’s drones, making sure the podium was ready and refreshments were prepared for every citizen.

Even Kit was a little surprised when she got there and saw how good a job he’d done. The podium even looked like real wood, though only tall enough to raise her just above the heads of any full templates in the crowd.

Forerunner had rearranged the top floor during the night, removing the scattered cafe chairs in favor of a smaller dining area in one corner and a large round platform in the center, dominating the space below the skylight.

Its surface glowed with faint blue light, drawing in waiting kids as much as the promise of Kit’s announcement. 

Jay caught her by the shoulder as she approached, holding her back. “There’s something I should’ve told you, Kit. You should probably know before you go there.”

She retreated around the corner, wrapping her oversized tail around them both. Even kit’s formal dress, the long black one that went all the way to her ankles, had the opening in back for her tail. “Something wrong?”

“No! Just…” He winced, looking away from her. “I had an idea, and I maybe kinda just told Forerunner to do it. I’m sure he would’ve said no if it wasn’t good enough! But it was easier just to set it up and ask later.”

She straightened, shaking out her tail. The director couldn’t act like that, not with others watching. She had to be dignified and mature.

“What? Did you fabricate that list of colonists I wanted all at once?”

Jay shook his head. “No! I’m not crazy! It’s…that.” He tugged her just far enough to see, pointing. “That’s a projector, from one of the game rooms in the dome you’re closing. It makes some really cool holograms of anything you want.”

Kit nodded along with him. She slipped one hand into her pocket, emerging with a handful of commemorative pins. These were the rewards she’d imagined for those who decided to help with the Institute’s shipbuilding efforts. They were fairly simple, round with a little protruding piece to show a rocket launching from Mara’s icy surface.

“About this?”

Jay looked over, then nodded. “Yeah. Felt like it might be a good way to keep everyone on the same page. More and more of us are moving into dome one anyway, so… we’ll see it every morning. I asked, and Forerunner said he could update it as we made progress. That way everyone gets to watch the ship get built.”

Kit beamed, embracing the mouse with both arms. “That’s a great idea! You could’ve just told me. Did you think I would say no?”

The mouse flushed, though his ears barely moved. Whether making his emotions easier to hide was an advantage or not, Kit still couldn’t say. “No. But you were busy! You were up so late talking to everyone last night about the rocket, this felt… too small. Kinda thing I’m good for.”

“You’re bigger than I am, Jay.”

The mouse nudged her oversized tail, sticking his tongue out. “Taller maybe, not bigger.”

She let go of him. “It was a great idea. And I don’t mind if you… have more ideas like that in the future. If Forerunner agrees they’re smart, then I trust you both. Just tell me next time. It might be awkward if kids start asking me about stuff I didn’t do.”

Soon Kit was at the podium, standing in front of a packed gathering of Mara’s citizens.

Not long ago, there were too many of them to fit into a single dome. But between many volunteering to join the 80% and many others migrating downstairs, they just barely fit. A few had to squeeze in next to each other or sit on the helpful shoulders of a friend who was still a full template.

This is what Wren thought I would do. She’d welcome me to the Institute, and I’d give a big speech about how I was so happy to be in modern day instead of the barbarian past.

Back then, she wanted nothing more than to find a way back to the homeworld she’d left behind. Now, though…

She hopped up to the podium, waving to everyone. “Hey Mara! I know you’re all busy, but something huge just happened, and you all deserve to know about it.”

Silence descended on the crowd. As small as they looked, there wasn’t a citizen in Mara who wasn’t watching now. Many looked afraid, while others were confused. The crowd pressed a little closer, many ears turning towards her.

Beside the podium, Jay nudged her tail encouragingly.

Right, she’d frozen. All those eyes on her triggered a powerful animal instinct of its own, making her whole body tense. Kit was not meant to be the center of attention. Wren would do a better job giving speeches!

“You all know how things have changed. We know that the Institute is alone. We’re the only Mara colony. No one else can help, no one else is sending more supplies. We worried if we were the only ones left in the Surya system. We’ve never seen any sign of radio transmissions or had anyone answer Forerunner’s calls for help.

“Actually, though—we did. Sam Arctic Fox recently decoded a message.”

She told them—about Ravana, devastated by solar activity. She told them about the survivors, on the edge of death unless someone sent help. She told them about the vast wealth of resources that would belong to Mara if only they could save a few humans on a failed colony.

“I know you all have questions,” she said, about ten minutes later. “I know the one most of you want to ask—how are we doing this? My old ship can’t fly anymore, and Forerunner’s drones can’t make it that far. That’s where things change.”

She gestured at the huge projector. She hadn’t said a word to Forerunner, but the machine still responded. A rocket appeared before them, drawn of thin lines with many of its internal systems exposed. It resembled any number of technical drawings Kit had seen.

It couldn’t be the real ship, of course. Even with many of Forerunner’s existing designs to work with, they couldn’t design a launch system and a ship in a few days. Whether it was based on designs the various departments had used, or if Forerunner had picked it arbitrarily, Kit couldn’t say.

“Without Forerunner, this would be a task of decades. But the survivors on Ravana don’t have decades. We get a year—a year to build, test, and launch this ship. I will be flying it—some of you will be joining me. But that is the easy part. Before we can fly it, before we can save the people on that colony, we have to build it. That’s where all of you come in.”

Kit walked them through what she had decided with the department heads the night before. She told them about their milestones, and how they would coordinate using Forerunner for most of the hard work. With his help, they might be able to pull this off.

“I won’t try to force you to help,” Kit finished, a little later. “I won’t make you give up your projects. But I will ask very nicely that you… consider, if you’re willing. I need every one of you, and more. We’ll be bringing up as many colonists from Remedial as are ready and fabricating even more.

“The Institute of Perpetual Luminescence is depending on our success. That means I’m going to have to prioritize this mission over all other research. If you don’t want to help, you’ll have to wait for time on the computers, or in the labs, or the fabricators. But when we finish, and we bring that asteroid back with us—no one will be afraid again. No one will have to take a smaller template if they don’t want to or be forced into a kind of research that they don’t like.”

She stood up on tiptoe, leaning over the podium. “When this is over, we’ll make Mara into the planet we believed it was. When there’s a million other kids living here with us, they’ll look back and remember your names. You were the ones who let them be born.”

A few clapped—her friends, the department heads, Jay standing behind her. But once it started, most of the crowd joined in.

Their cheers washed over her, lifting the weight that had been crushing her over the last year. 

Mara’s situation was desperate, but it wasn’t hopeless anymore. There was a way out, one her citizens were more than qualified to undertake. All they needed was the boldness to try, and an ample helping of good luck.

“Does it have a name?” Emma asked, when the noise finally died down. Even the bunny looked excited now, however disinterested she might be in space travel. Maybe it was the prospect of some new patients with actual injuries to treat. “The ship. Yours had one, and the Director’s before that. What’s ours called?”

Kit shrugged. “Didn’t feel right for me to pick. What does everyone think?”

For such a simple task, choosing a name for the rocket took the assembled kids almost an hour. After three separate rounds of voting, and quite a few bad ideas, they settled on the only name that made sense. 

Within a year, the MSS Neophyte would take to the skies above Mara’s bleak surface, carrying the hopes of all the Institute with it.