Titan

12 April 2096: Launch

Five-second countdown on my mark,” Pancho called out. “Mark! Four …”

She felt the craft shudder as the connectors holding it against the habitat unlocked.

“ … two … one …”

The automatic sequencer fired the cold gas jets, just a brief moment of thrust, hardly jarring Pancho as she stood in the cockpit. Her thumb was on the manual firing button, a needless backup.

“We’re off!” she sang out.

“Good luck,” Tavalera’s voice came through the speaker.

The sense of weight that had been imparted by the habitat’s spin dwindled away to nothing. Pancho felt her insides gurgle. Come on, girl, she said to herself, as she wiggled her soft-booted feet into the floor loops, you’ve been in zero g half your life, just about. Don’t get queasy on me now.

Wanamaker stuck his head through the hatch. “Manny’s having his breakfast.”

“Inside the suit?” Pancho asked, over her shoulder. She saw that he was holding onto the hatch’s rim with both hands, his feet floating up off the deck.

“Yup. You hungry? I can pull something from the galley.”

Pancho knew that this tiny craft’s galley was nothing more than a refrigerated bin stocked with premade sandwiches and fruit juices. Her stomach was still complaining, although moving her head hadn’t made her whoozy at all.

“Yeah, let’s grab a bite,” she said. “Nothin’ to do here for the next few hours except watch the board.” Besides, she said to herself, I don’t want to let zero g get the better of me.

Holly bit her lip as she studied the numbers displayed on the smart wall. Fifty-two hundred and sixteen signatures, she thought. Not enough yet. But we’re getting there.

She had hoped to be able to announce that the petition drive had succeeded at the debate against Eberly this evening. Not going to make it, she told herself. But we’re getting close. And more than a third of the signatures are from guys.

Her phone chirped. The data bar on the screen’s bottom told her it was Zeke Berkowitz. “Answer,” she called.

Berkowitz’s normally amiable features looked troubled. “Holly, we’re going to be running a news feature right before the debate. I thought you ought to see a preview of it, so you won’t be caught by surprise.”

“Okay,” Holly replied absently, still thinking about the petition drive.

“I’m shooting the interview to you now,” said Berkowitz.

“Thanks.”

For nearly half an hour Holly continued working on the petition drive figures, trying to determine if there were pockets of the population that they had not yet signed up. At last, more as a break from the work than anything else, she switched to the message Berkowitz had sent.

She was surprised to see Jeanmarie Urbain on screen. The chief scientist’s wife was sitting in the same studio that Berkowitz used to interview Holly and Eberly.

“Madame Urbain,” Berkowitz said from off camera, “why have you organized your committee?”

Jeanmarie Urbain looked tense, but she forced a smile and looked straight into the camera. Zeke prob’ly told her to do that, Holly thought.

“It is necessary for the future of this community to stop this ridiculous petition that is being circulated,” she said.

Holly jerked with surprise.

“You mean the petition to repeal the Zero Population Growth protocol?”

“Yes. Exactly. We must not repeal the protocol.”

“And why are you against the petition?” Berkowitz’s voice asked calmly.

Looking very earnest, very convinced, Mme. Urbain answered as if reciting a memorized reply, “This habitat of ours is quite limited in its resources. If we permit unregulated growth, our habitat will quickly be filled beyond our capacity to support the increased population. People will starve. Children—babies—will starve!”

“Don’t you think that’s an extreme view?”

“Not at all. Unregulated population growth will turn this beautiful habitat of ours into an overcrowded slum, a teeming cesspool of poverty, disease and crime. We must maintain the Zero Population Growth protocol! We must!”

“Forever?”

Jeanmarie Urbain hesitated. Holly thought she might be searching her memory for the answer she had been coached to give.

“No, not forever,” she said at last. “But not until we have achieved some means of bringing more wealth to our community should we think about increasing our population.”

“Some means of increasing our wealth,” Berkowitz repeated.

“Yes. Our habitat was designed to support ten thousand people. Unless our economic situation improves, we have not the resources to support a larger population.”

Silence for a moment. Then Berkowitz asked, “Madame Urbain, if the ZPG protocol were to be repealed, would you want to have a baby?”

Jeanmarie looked surprised by his question, shocked. “I? Would I want to have a baby?”

“You and Dr. Urbain are childless, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she admitted. Reluctantly, Holly thought.

“So, if it became permissible …? I mean, you’re still young enough to have a baby, obviously.”

“I … might,” she said slowly. Then she quickly added, “But not until the community can support a larger population.”

The camera pulled back to show Berkowitz sitting facing Mme. Urbain. He turned slightly in his chair and another camera showed him full-face.

“So Mme. Jeanmarie Urbain, wife of the habitat’s chief scientist, has formed a committee to oppose repeal of the ZPG protocol. How do you feel about this issue? Send in your thoughts. We’ll keep a running score, with reports every hour.”

Holly’s wall screen suddenly went blank. The interview was finished. She sat there, her mind spinning. Turncoat! Holly thought. Traitor! Then she calmed down a bit and she realized that this had to be Eberly’s doing. Just like the snake he is, Holly thought, getting a woman to fight against this women’s issue.

“How’re you doin’ in there?” Pancho asked, letting her feet float free of the floor loops so she could bob up to the level of Gaeta’s transparent visor. She could see his rugged face through the reflections of the cargo bay’s overhead light strips.

“Checking everything twice,” Gaeta replied, his amplified voice echoing slightly off the bay’s bare metal bulkheads.

“Just like Santy Claus.”

“Watch this,” said Gaeta.

Pancho saw the hulking suit’s two arms rise from their sides, their servomotors whining. The pincer claws opened and snapped shut.

“Like a crab, huh?” she commented.

“Wanna dance?” Gaeta asked, wrapping both arms around her waist. He began lumbering awkwardly across the floor, his heavy magnetized boots lifting and then thumping down again on the metal deck.

Pancho hung on to his broad shoulders, grinning. “Hey, don’t let Jake see this. He’s the jealous type.”

Laughing, Gaeta lowered her gently to the floor and released his double grip on her. Pancho hooked one foot into a floor loop, then made a wobbly curtsy. “Thanks for the dance.”

“Pilot to the bridge,” Wanamaker’s voice came over the intercom. “Ejection point in one hour.”

“Gotta go,” she said. “You okay in there? Need anything?”

“I’m fine, Pancho. I’ll start the final checkout now.”

“Right. I’ll tell Jake; he’ll be monitoring you.”

She pushed off for the hatch and swam weightlessly back to the bridge. Her eye caught the control board’s master clock as she settled into the floor loops at the pilot’s station.

“Just about time for Holly’s big shootout with Eberly,” she muttered.

Wanamaker didn’t reply. He had a headset clamped over his thick steel-gray hair, already working with Gaeta, going through the suit’s final checkout.