Ravana's Shadow (24) (Patreon)

"Where did you evacuate everyone?" Kit asked. She dreaded the answer—some part of her already knew. There was only one place anywhere in the Institute big enough to hold the whole population at once.

"Remedial," Forerunner said. "That section is insulated against bombardment and built of self-healing materials. Drones are currently shuffling patients into the night dome and transporting supplies to the day dome. It should be large enough to contain the 80 and 100% population while structural repairs are made."

Kit nodded. With the helmet sealed around her face, she could do nothing about the tears. "How bad is it?" 

"The loss of material is substantial," Forerunner said. "Detonation will make recovery a long-term operation, likely requiring sifting of the surface sediment for many kilometers. Damage to the Institute is significant but not critical. Primary life support should be restored in..." He hesitated, then. "Fourteen hours."

Morgan picked something off the ground in front of Kit, pressed a few buttons there, then turned it over. The display went entirely blank, save for a single number: 4. As Kit watched, the number increased to 5, then 6.

"It's not the material that matters," Morgan said, her voice only faintly muffled by their thin helmets. "We can build new rockets. But some damage takes longer to heal."

Kit needed no explanation for that number, or why it was increasing. Sawyer had already told her everything she needed to know. 

Her little population had lived long past their expiration date, relying on stability and conditioning for their survival. If something happened to disrupt that, she was going to lose people. Even her entirely peaceful changes to the Institute had frightened colonists into Remedial. How much worse would an evacuation be?

"We need to do something to stop this," Kit whispered. "Before we lose anyone mission critical." 

That might've already happened. Maddie was the oldest colonist of all, what if that ancient brain was finally deep-fried by the shock? 

And even worse, if Kit lost her assistant, she might not be able to manage the colony at all.

She could think of a similar nightmare scenario for almost anyone in her staff. There were still design decisions to make with the rest of the mission. They still had to figure out what went wrong with this launch before attempting another one with lives at stake.

At least Garrick stopped watching our broadcast. She could only imagine how much harder it would be to fix this with his voice nagging in her ear. Kit might end up in Remedial too.

"We could sedate everyone," Morgan suggested. "Then transport them back upstairs once conditions are under control. Forerunner, how long would it take to—"

"No." Kit stumbled forward, pushing past her. “I’m not treating the population like animals. Forerunner, I want... all the snacks and game consoles and projectors you can get. Sleeping bags, foam weapons, musical instruments. Bring them all to Remedial."

Morgan tilted her head sideways, eyes narrowing. She looked like she might punch her—or at least take the tablet away. But what good would that do? Morgan wasn't Director anymore.

"Command acknowledged," Forerunner said. "Is that it?"

"No. Stop segregating patients from our population. I know this will slow their recovery—but they're not our only concern right now. Leave anyone you think is cognitively stable with the rest. Try to reconnect friend-groups if you can, and only separate patients once they're in distress."

Morgan's mouth hung open. "You can't be serious. Nothing takes higher priority than treatment. They've already suffered enough."

"They won't suffer," Kit argued. "They'll be with their friends. And more importantly, caring for them should help distract our population from their own distress. It's easier to be brave when you have a reason."

Like Kit was doing right now. She turned away from Morgan, striding up to the door. She didn't need approval from the old Director, and she wasn't going to second-guess herself. That would only make it worse. "Give me comms for the whole Institute. I'm going to make an announcement."

Morgan muttered something under her breath, too quiet to make it through their helmets. Probably profanity.

"Link established. I will not be filtering your words, Director. Be cautious with your remarks. Remedial is rarely connected with the affairs of the greater colony. Every action you take will have significant impacts on their recovery prospects."

"When this is over, Kit..."

Kit rocked back and forth, lifting her tail high behind her. It wouldn't protect her if Morgan really wanted to fight. But would she?

If this doesn't work, I probably deserve to be replaced, she thought. "Attention all citizens, this is Director Kit. I'm sorry for the shock. I know everyone is... more than a little surprised to be downstairs right now. Honestly, I had hoped we would have more time to prepare for this holiday."

"Holiday?" Morgan asked, indignant. 

"I've been considering this for a long time—a way for all levels of the Institute to stay connected to each other. Every citizen, no matter their current template, is vital to our success. I hoped to make this event... annual. But we'll see how well everyone does. Please be on your best behavior, especially if you're spending time with your friends of reduced templates. Remember, that will be you eventually, and they may be your size next year. I'll pass around an event schedule soon. Forerunner will help organize everyone into teams. Wren and I will see you all soon."

She gestured to no one, and Forerunner gave her a gentle click from inside her helmet. "Forerunner, do we have a clear route down to Remedial from here?"

Morgan glanced to either side, then held her hands up. "Hold on, squirrel. I'm not going to be complicit with this. It's never going to work. If you think you can just make them forget about this accident—"

"Clear," Forerunner answered. "At least to the emergency elevator. I've sealed off the nearby sections to give you a route. Why?"

"Because I don't need Morgan's help making this work. I need Wren." She glanced back at Morgan, holding out one hand. "This will be easier if you take the suit off first."

Morgan retreated another step. “No, Director. I will not comply with whatever absurd plan you’ve concocted.” She turned for the door, adjusting her helmet. “I’m joining the drones on repair duty. You want to do this your way—you can solve it your way.”

Kit opened her mouth to argue, or maybe even to make it an order. Would Forerunner do what she asked? Would it force Wren into a smaller template?

She didn’t find out. Wren left through the door, and it shut behind her, leaving Kit alone.

For the first time since her arrival on Mara, the Institute didn’t surround her with the warmth of familiar sensation. Gone was the rumble of air recyclers, the distant giggling of citizens in public areas climbing and wrestling and playing together. Even the infrequent shuffling of rovers was gone, likely suspended to conserve resources. 

Kit dropped to one knee, staring at her empty control room. Minutes ago, this room was hope, the future of the Institute unfolding before her eyes. Now the stations were empty, the Acheron was a field of debris, and Garrick would think the Institute was incompetent.

“How badly did I screw this up?” Kit asked, staring at the empty gray screen. “Did I… Should I even have this job?”

“Because development encountered complications? What space program hasn’t?” Forerunner asked. As usual, his voice came from no body—the speakers in Kit’s helmet. “You know better than most members of the Institute that rocketry is a difficult science. Exceptionally low tolerances, with catastrophically high consequences for miscalculation.”

She settled onto her butt on the steps, pulling her legs in close. “Humanity is how old by now? It has to be settled. We’ve probably launched a billion rockets on planets all over the place. But I managed to ruin one anyway.”

“Not you,” Forerunner said. “And that does not matter. Yes, I store considerable data on the subject from many colonists. But nowhere have these exact conditions existed. No one on Mara has precisely the skills required. That is why we have tests—that is why we experiment. Sensor data is still coming in, but the results are likely to be instructive. Whatever went wrong, it will be identified and improved in the next test.”

She lowered her arms, letting her legs fall flat in front of her. Even sitting here was selfish, in its way. Kit had no time for sulking, she should be downstairs busy with her manipulation of the Institute. 

“If I do that… Ego forging thing that Wren did, will I be strong like she is?” Kit asked, her voice very small. “Will I think like she does?”

“If you survive, perhaps,” Forerunner answered. “But Kit, why would you want that? My former Director accomplished amazing things, yet her leadership led us on a gradual path towards inevitable decline. There may have been few dramatic failures, but there were also no great victories. Except one.”

“The Aether, you mean.” Kit rested her head on her chair, closing her eyes inside the helmet. That way she didn’t have to look at all the consoles, and their still-glowing red lights. Each one was a failure she should’ve stopped, somehow. All were disasters she had not prevented. “I’m just the human cargo.”

“We needed the mass,” Forerunner said. “Yet no specific part of the ship was valuable or necessary for the Institute. Every technology it contained has been outmoded. Every component on the ship has decayed beyond all trace of usefulness. Except you, squirrel. You haven’t failed. Ravana is still within reach.”

The door hissed open, and someone appeared in the gloom there. Kit somehow knew who it would be—there was a very limited list of colonists with the certification for EVAs. Not one of the new candidates were quite there yet, though a few were close. But some already knew.

Kit glanced over her shoulder to look, then slumped forward again, pretending she hadn’t seen. The radio was far less cooperative with her sulking, though.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Maddie said. She had her full suit on, not just the inner layer. That meant she stood at Kit’s eye level, despite her unusual 70% template. Her tail swished back and forth in its articulated sleeve as she advanced.

“What are you doing up here?” Kit whispered. “I thought everyone got sent to Remedial. Isn’t that your favorite place on Mara?”

Maddie laughed, short and pained. “That should tell you how important this is.” She settled onto the stairs next to her, wrapping both her arms around Kit’s and squeezing. “Your mouse would not leave me alone until I promised to come get you. I thought he was going to steal my suit and run off. Would’ve liked to see him try to get the inner layer attached.” 

Kit sniffed and tried to wipe moisture from her face. Of course it didn’t work, she couldn’t reach. “I could never do this without him. Or any of you, really. I’m not strong like Wren.”

Maddie turned Kit’s helmet so it faced hers. “You’re not Wren, Kit. You’re not a Star Marine, and you never will be.”

Kit twitched, face hardening again. Some reassurance this was. “I—”

“So what?” Maddie continued, interrupting her. “You’re not her. No one in the Institute expects you to be. No one even wants you to be, really.” She released her helmet, lowering her hands again. “Wren was the Director we needed during our early years. She kept us going for a long, long time. But we needed someone else. Even she agreed, or she would’ve fought you. Is Wren fighting you?”

She considered that. Wren wasn’t cooperating with her current plan—but she was going along with the Ravana mission. She’d even insisted on becoming a member of the crew and taking one of the limited slots on their rocket. She hadn’t stopped any stage of their preparations, or the mission.

“No.” Kit sniffed and fought back a fresh wave of tears. She wanted so badly just to curl up here and sleep, resting until she felt better. Maybe tomorrow she would be able to face her colonists and tell them it was her fault they were all afraid.

“What do I do, Maddie?”

The fox rested Kit’s head in her lap and held her. It was hardly soft, not with the full EVA suit. She stayed there anyway. Uncomfortable or not, it was still better than staring off into space. 

“I’m the wrong fox to ask. Everyone knows what I say: no matter the problem, just spend a few years in Remedial.” She rested sideways against the station, draping both arms across Kit’s chest. “It’s not my fault I tell people that. I’m old enough to remember colonists who would still be here if they’d done it.”

Kit nodded. She had learned some of that from Wren, and some from Forerunner. Yet neither were liberal with the details of those early days, and she hadn’t pressed. She had better things to do than tear open old wounds. “Is this decoherence?”

“No.” Maddie patted her back gently. “You’re still a baby, squirrel. You won’t know what it feels like for a really long time. I think this is… the normal kinda hurt.”

And while I’m sitting here feeling sorry for myself, the rest of the Institute needs me.

Kit sat up. “Did we ruin the launch? Should I scrub the Ravana mission?”

“No!” Maddie looked indignant. “We did great! We made it past Max Q! Our propulsion system has a few issues, sure—but it’s nothing we can’t fix. Today might not be as big a success as we hoped, but it was still a success.”

Kit flung both arms around her and squeezed. “Thanks, Maddie. I hope you’re right.”

“Obviously I am.” The fox held still, waiting for her to finish. “I’m an expert with these things, squirrel. You should trust your head of Engineering.”

She held on for a few more seconds. “What about the rest of the Institute? The evacuation… are we going to lose everyone?” She let go, then stood.

It felt good to be on her own feet again, to stretch her tail all the way out behind her. The more she moved, the better she felt.

“Nah. Maybe a few.” Maddie stood up too, stretching both arms over her head. “But that’s okay. If anyone needs Remedial that bad, they belong down there. But if you want to try and help… holiday, you said? Teams? I hope you were serious.”

She nodded. “Course I was.”

“Then for you, just this once, I’m staying in this template. You have no idea how much of an ask that is. Next year, you better deliver.”

Next year they would probably be piloting the Ravana asteroid into orbit of Mara—but she wasn’t going to remind Maddie.