Ravana's Shadow (20) (Patreon)

Not all the small templates gave Kit trouble, of course. There was Abel, who had the entire operations manual for their exo-suits memorized before the day of their first lesson together. Not just the text, but the bunny had clearly practiced in his free time. He had his suit on in less than five minutes and spent the next half hour watching while she coached Kaden through it all.

"We're on a simple mission today," Kit said. "There's an obstacle course—the same one you sent me through when I got here, Kaden. We'll test your dexterity performing basic tasks in a vacuum, then come back inside. Nice and simple."

"Or," Abel said, setting down his helmet. He picked up a tablet from inside his locker, turning it around. "We could do the same mission, but somewhere more interesting."

Kit's tail drooped. You want to change it now? Still, she wasn't about to dismiss a suggestion from her colonists without considering it first—every single one of them was smarter than she was. She took the tablet in one gloved hand, skimming over the text there.

Abel hadn't written something cheeky there, like Jay might've. Instead, he had a mission brief formatted exactly the same way hers had been. Only this mission wasn't moving around a simple arena in the ring's vacuum section. They would go out to the Aether's disassembly yard and assist with the recovery of a single critical component from inside. 

"Drones were going to do this," she said, handing it back. "I remember signing the authorization."

"Maybe." Abel took the pad. Curiously, he didn't show it to Kaden. The fox's ears drooped, his tail hanging limp in the articulated suit. He knew about this. They planned it together. Just as Kit could speak the dark language of adults, she could understand Mara's strange not-children too. They had a lot in common with the genuine article. They were just as terrible at lying, even by implication.

"But the drones don't need practical experience. We do. We don't need safe, sheltered obstacle courses three meters from an airlock and a dozen drones ready to rescue us. Our behavior won't be a realistic predictor of how we would actually act in the field. We need real risk, real danger."

Kit looked between them. She took a single step closer to Abel, folding her arms. She glared at the two of them as sharply as she dared. "This is the last time you try to change a mission like this." She lifted her tail up again, making herself bigger. Technically she was shorter than both of these boys, though not by much. Since their templates were the same age, the differences between them were marginal.

But even the fox didn't have a tail as big as hers.

"Space missions are dangerous. We plan, we prepare, we have redundancies in place. You don't get to just drop things and expect them to happen anymore. Talk to me the day before, or I won't do it. Understood?"

Abel's ears folded backward inside his helmet. He nodded silently, looking away from her. 

When the bunny didn't say anything, Kaden finally did. "But we're doing it anyway? Even though you're mad at us?"

She nodded. "I'm not mad at you, I just want you to understand how serious it is. Space is dangerous. Right now, we can make mistakes—no matter where on Mara we go, Forerunner can probably fix things. But that won't be true when we get in that rocket. Our mistakes might be permanent. There are ways to hurt yourself so bad not even Emma can wake you back up again."

The two shared a terrified look, as though they never could've imagined such a horrifying possibility before. Kit let the silence linger just a second longer, then continued. "This kind of space travel isn't like what your super-smart future people do. It's from my time—back when rockets could explode, ships could fail, and sometimes explorers just didn't come back." 

She rested one hand on each of their shoulders. "It's my job to make sure that doesn't happen. But from now on, you're gonna help me do my job, okay?" 

Abel winced. "I wasn't trying to trick you. I just thought—maybe it wasn't important enough. There's that burn test tomorrow, and I thought—"

Kit released his shoulder. "The mission is a good idea, and if you're brave enough, we'll do it. Just warn me next time."

They hurried through the typical steps. Kit was used to teaching them all by now, about proper operation of the airlock, and the hundred important steps required to make a safe and successful EVA.

They didn't go to the ring for a simple obstacle course, as they'd originally planned. Instead, they took Kit's usual EVA rover, clambering up the steps into a set of fresh seats.

"I thought you ran missions all the time," Abel said, peeling away a thin plastic film from one of the seats. He tossed it across the room, landing it perfectly in the waste disposal bin. "Did you wreck our last rover?"

Kit didn't bother removing the film on her seat, just settled into it, folding both arms across her chest. "No. This one just got retrofitted. Every single member of the Institute with EVA authorization is an 80% template, so... we reorganized to use the space a little better."

They now had four chairs with equipment instead of just two. Not needing the extra headroom meant they could fit extra life support and power in the ceiling, along with other important details. All irrelevant to her friends for this mission. 

"I have reorganized the labor schedule for today," Forerunner said, conversationally. "You will not encounter any disassembly drones during your intended window. You should be safe to ascend the Aether and recover your desired target. Assuming you are capable, of course."

"This mission should give you lots of good practice," Kit continued. "Ravana is a derelict, just like the Aether. We can't know exactly what conditions there will be like. Even if drones found it safe a few hours ago, things can change quickly. Maybe there was a cave in, maybe a critical system failed. We won't know until we get there."

The rover began to roll, bumping and sliding up a ramp and onto Mara's surface. All three occupants took time to stare out the huge flat windows, watching as they passed out of the Institute. They rolled around a composite road, past the workshop where drones assembled the test version of the first stage.

They worked almost like human laborers might, even carrying handheld tools. Well—tools were mounted to their limbs, anyway. Even for Mara's gravity, these drones were impressive in their ability, carrying around multi-ton metal parts between them with perfect coordination. No wonder so many citizens had a feed of this workshop playing on a screen in almost every room these days.

The road took them past the workshop, onto Mara's central ice highway. There were two lanes now, big enough for the flow of trucks and transports to continue without stopping. They had a ship to tear apart, and not very long to do it.

Then they came to the launch field—a nearly-flat expanse of ice, now covered with a layer of insulating composite to protect it from melting during the launches. They still didn't know if their thermal system would be enough to survive a full burn. But they would soon find out.

Kit leaned out of her seat and up to the glass, squinting out at the glint of metal. There in the distance was a single rover, parked on the ice beside a set of heavy metal struts sunk deep into the surface. Drones worked over it, transferring tanks between open ports on the huge pumps.

Abel retreated from the window, as far as his seat would allow. "That's... what, three kilometers from the Institute?"

Kit nodded. "Maddie says the tolerances are generous. Those berms there, they'll insulate us even if there's a catastrophic failure." She pointed at the thick mound of broken ice, separating this testing ground from a direct line of sight to the Institute. "It's more than enough for the launch vehicles we'll be using. Mara's gravity doesn't hold us that tight."

Abel closed his eyes, settling both hands into his lap. "You're a bad influence on her, Director. Two centuries ago, Maddie would never try anything so insane. But here we are, building bombs a few kilometers from where we all live."

"Maddie knows what she's doing," Kaden said, maybe a little louder than a normal speaking voice. It was more obvious with their helmets off in the confined rover. "And I believe her."

Abel grunted. "It is good to be moving again. Taking risks. I guess some of those are with our lives."

Kit nodded. "I would send drones to Ravana to do the mission if we were allowed. But their Governor won't let us. We have to be there, so we have to train."

Kit stood from her seat after a while, switching on one of the projectors. "Alright. Mission specs you gave me. Looks like we're going into Engineering. We're retrieving... one of the old experiments? What's G7?"

"An early test with AI," Abel explained. "Exceptionally primitive. But your database suggested it might be made of some useful materials. Not enough to be worth the effort for the drones to harvest yet, but perfect for practice. I wanted some way for us to help, but not one that would risk compromising a potentially useful technology. The contents of the results of the experiment are irrelevant, only the material matters."

Kit cleared her throat. “We didn’t think so at the time. Every one of those experiments represented the bleeding edge of our technology. I could tell you about every single one. Or… I could.” She tilted her head to the side, thoughtful. Katherine had known each one, memorized the steps to maintain them between jumps. Many of those specifics were gone now.

Kit leaned back against the wall, her tail twitching and jostling slightly to keep her balance as the rover continued along the road. She was pretty good at it now, adapted over the last year since her transformation. Would she even be able to live without the tail?

"That means we have to go up three floors. The crew compartment is still more or less unchanged since my crash, so you'll have to climb. Then continue through the wreckage of the experimental deck to find the one we're looking for." She glanced over the description of the mission, then frowned. "We're not doing that. 500 kilograms, carrying it with us down a ladder? No chance. Forerunner, we need a winch."

"Already aboard," he said. 

Of course it was. They surprised me with this plan, but you already knew it was coming. You probably went through the experimental deck and cleared out anything dangerous before we even talked about this. "Along with the harnesses each of you will require, of course. You should instruct them in the basic operation of climbing equipment, neither Abel nor Kaden have practiced with it before."

Kit might be in charge of the Institute—but she didn't really have the authority to make any risky decision with the colonists.

A little shelf slid open near her, revealing the gear inside. Three sturdy fabric harnesses, with a clip on the front to attach to an automated ascent line.

"Right, well. Since you wanted to go into the Aether so badly, guess you’ll need these too."

Kit spent most of the ride going over routine safety instructions—the kind of thing she would've preferred to teach over the course of a few months. Where she came from, adult astronauts could spend years in training before getting certified for real missions.

The Institute should've given them the luxury of unlimited time. They weren't getting older, and resources were managed well enough to measure their projected lifespans in thousands of years. Stupid Garrick and not being willing to go back into the ice. Or let them send drones, for that matter. Life could be so much simpler!

Abel taking things into his own hands might have been annoying, but at least he knew how to plan a mission. He'd included the route they would need, notes about all the hazardous materials they might encounter, and even a few contingencies for likely failure conditions.

Soon enough they were at the ruins of the Aether. Kit brought up the back of the group, watching the trainees carefully. Abel could memorize all he wanted, but that wasn't the same as actually doing any of it. His hands shook as he tried to clip himself into the ascent line and stayed that way for a good ten seconds.

He might've frozen up completely, if Kit didn't appear beside him to gently work the little mechanism around the line. She squeezed over his fingers, clicking the clip closed. "Like that."

"Right." Abel didn't move at first. His ears twitched, and he finally looked up. "Looking at pictures doesn't... it's not the same."

Kit released his fingers, gesturing up with her flashlight. “Make some room."

Abel didn't move. "Ancient humans were... huge," he whispered. "It's like an arena in here."

Kaden took another few minutes—then they were climbing. The distance between each rung might make the climb incredibly difficult, if it wasn't for Mara's considerably reduced gravity. With the harness assisting them, it was relatively safe to fling themselves the short distance required to reach each one, confident in the apparatus being there to catch them.

It was certainly more stressful than Kit imagined for her first training exercise with any members of the Ravana expedition.

Even knowing their bodies were tough and the fall wasn't that far, Kit still felt the fear twisting in her gut whenever she looked down.

There were no work lights down there, just a featureless abyss, extending beyond their vision.

But Kit was a good climber, even better now than she had been when this ship was hers. Kit didn't need the harness to climb, or very much space on the rungs to get a good grip. When Abel started to falter, she could let out several meters on the safety line, then climb past Kaden to where the bunny had stopped. She perched on just her toes; tail held all the way out behind her as she guided him up onto the ledge inch by inch. 

"I can't do it!" he insisted. "There's nothing else to hold! We should go back."

"You don't need anything else," she insisted. "Give it one big shove, and we're up. I'll be right here to catch you."

A lie, obviously. Kit was right there—but she wouldn't need to catch anyone when they were each wearing safety equipment. 

Her words had the desired effect. Abel moved, and soon Kaden followed. Kit climbed the rest of the way up, tapping her chest to activate her flashlight. 

It illuminated a huge space, rising more than twice her height into the air. All four walls were covered with knobs, dials, and controls, each one connected to one of the Aether's essential systems. All were inert now, without even the faint flicker of an LED to suggest life in the old ship. 

The ship was incomprehensibly old, well beyond hope of any system in the vessel still working. Probably for the best, really. There was a lot in here that could hurt kids if they didn't know what they were doing. Better for Forerunner to dismantle and reprocess it.

They passed along marked shelves and cubbies; each one covered with ancient block letters. Kit reached up to feel one as she passed, pressed at about head level. “G1: Temporal Stability Experiment” The contents of the case were obscured in black glass, intact despite the rough landing.

She walked along, trailing at the back of her little group.

Abel hesitated beside a set of heavy tools, dropped almost directly across the walkway. He nudged it with his boot, his ears high and body stretched as far back as he could go. It wobbled but didn’t move. 

“Probably won’t be able to lift that,” Kit said, coming up beside him, conversationally. “I was using that down here before the launch. Even in microgravity that thing was a pain to move. And I was… a lot stronger then.” The synthetic fabric was more or less exactly as she’d left it. The colors were faded, and the zipper looked like it would crumble to dust if she tried to open the bag.

She didn’t bother, instead clambering over it and offering her hand to help the others. “Come on.”

“You just left this down here?” Abel asked, indignant. “I thought we were supposed to stow all our equipment after each use.”

“I did.” She pointed over their head, at a set of plastic clips on the ceiling. “The Aether wasn’t meant to enter a gravity well. They didn’t spill in the crash, lucky for us. But compared to conditions in Ravana, this is simple.”

Abel took her hand. Kaden followed just behind. He lingered beside the toolbag, staring up at the ceiling. “Have you been planning for the mission, Director?”

“Extensively,” she said. “There are others who know much more. Your input matters as much as anything I have to say.”

“About machines, maybe,” Kaden said. “About keeping oxygen flowing in the capsule, and processing waste. But not about this.” He rested one hand on the wall, then jumped. He couldn’t touch the ceiling, even with Mara’s lower gravity. He reached for it, fingers straining—then fell back to the ground.

“These are baseliners,” Kaden said. “The things they could do to us…” He shoved up against the toolkit, kicking with all his might. It moved a few centimeters, ancient fabric tearing at the strain. Various bits of corroded metal spilled out. Most were still recognizable as tools, though any moving parts would’ve long since seized.

Kaden stood up after a few seconds, brushing off his suit. “It’s not just size and strength. They think differently. More… primal.”

“No one’s saying it.” Abel stopped a short distance down the hall, spinning around. His flashlight lit a route that was mostly clear, with only an occasional chunk of twisted metal or piece of broken glass to disrupt their approach. But Forerunner had done little work here and left the crew compartment more or less traversable. 

“I will. I know that staying our size makes the launch vehicle smaller, it keeps matter requirements down. It reduces our resource consumption on the trip. All that’s good. But once we’re established, once the fabricator is working and we have Ravana’s matter feeding into it—we don’t have to stay 80% templates anymore. We don’t have to stay 100% either. We wouldn’t have to be afraid of the baseliners if we could do all the same things. We would be smarter than they are, and stronger. Why don’t we?”

Kit opened her mouth to answer, but Forerunner was much quicker. Her helmet switched over to her private channel. “No long-term colonist would survive that transition, Kit. Even individuals that seem stable and healthy are incredibly old, persisting only thanks to the reduced complexity of their template and the stability granted by their cognitive filters. If they were removed, rapid ego collapse would soon follow.”

“Is that… permanent?” Kit whispered. “Are you saying that everyone is stuck?”

“I believe Sawyer would be better to share the specifics with you. Know only that it would not be possible for most members of your expedition to upclass into older templates upon your arrival. It is possible you would survive. Even if you did, any advantages gained by the lack of cognitive filters would be surpassed by the associated disadvantages in leadership and command over a team of 80% templates.”

Kit hadn’t been watching—but now she saw, Abel had made it all the way over to her helmet. “Director? Is something wrong?”

She switched back to the common channel. “Sorry, no. I was just checking on your idea. Won’t work, unfortunately. But I wanted to be sure.”

Abel grunted, then turned back. “Whatever. At least you asked.”

The weight of those words lingered heavy on Kit’s mind through the rest of their training exercise. She knew her colonists were young. The Institute had survived far longer than it had any right to, thanks to its unique adaptations. Had their filters and strange bodies trapped them, somehow? Would Kit be stuck too, if she didn’t do something to escape?

She wouldn’t be getting any answers on the Aether.