Marius ventures into the void between Mars and Jupiter. After a boost from the enormous nuclear thermal rockets, the engineers fire up the continuous thrust engines. Celina and Celeste settle on a fragile reconciliation as the ship enters its long journey to its encounter with the invaders.
The Space Cruiser USS Marius, CS-1
The Void between Mars and Jupiter
December 2055
We’d been traveling to Jupiter for about two weeks when the announcement came that the continuous thrust engines were coming online. The big nukes had run for almost an hour until main engine cut off, MECO, as the rocket scientists on board liked to call it. Their thrust gave us the boost needed to leave Mars behind and enter the Asteroid Belt. As we coasted following MECO, the bridge crew adjusted our course using thrusters and prepared for the next phase of our journey.
The engineering teams had removed the support beams that locked the gravity wheel in place and released it from standby. We were living in Mars-normal gravity now. It was surprising how only two weeks in zero-G made you feel sluggish once the wheel spun up.
The pilots had moved the construction tugs from their cradles aft of the gravity wheel to the docking ring just behind the command module, turning our limpets into spines—giving the Marius a badass, spiked collar look.
Everything was ready—except me.
I’d found plenty of excuses to avoid talking to Celeste. Visits from my mothers had done nothing to assuage my remorse and guilt. But I’d had time to think about what I was feeling—I was jealous of my sister. I knew it was unfounded and silly, but it didn’t make it easier to shake. We’d been close all our lives. I needed to understand what changed—and why.
Was it because she had that way about her, that casual comfort and confidence that made everyone like her? And she was an engineering genius. Was I jealous because she had Marco and I had no one? Sure, I had Lexi, an AI, for God’s sake. But there was no one on board I could call a real friend except Celeste. I don’t think I’ve ever had a real friend that wasn’t Celeste.
At the very least, though, I needed to apologize to Celeste for the accident. I’d come clean, ask for her forgiveness, and that would be it—I hoped. Otherwise, it was going to be a long, uncomfortable trip. The ship was too small to avoid her any longer.
I left my quarters and dawdled as I walked around the gravity wheel to the quarters she shared with Marco. After pressing the entrance chime, I shifted from foot to foot, kneaded my hands, and wiped them on my tunic.
The hatch slid open. It was Marco. My spirits flagged when his smile turned dark.
“What do you want?” He stood blocking the door, arms crossed.
“I want to talk to my sister.”
“I don’t think she wants to talk to you. It’s all over the ship that your mistake almost killed her.” He didn’t move and didn’t look like he was going to.
“Just let me see Celeste. I need to apologize.” I reached out to touch his crossed arms, but he stepped back out of reach. “Please, Marco. I need to see her.” I blinked back the tears.
Marco’s expression softened a bit. He was not a bad guy, just protective of Celeste.
“I tell you what, Celina. Send her a message and see if she says it’s OK. She’s still recovering from the treatments to her hand and needs to rest.”
Marco stepped back, reached over to the contact, and closed the hatch. I stood there, not knowing what to do, letting the tears roll down my cheeks, missing my sister, the loneliness, a dull ache in my gut. Maybe I would send her a message, or maybe my mothers would talk to her.
Turning from the closed hatch, I returned to my quarters, no better off than when I left them twenty minutes ago. At least I’d found the courage to make the attempt. Time would tell if I could muster it again.
Several weeks passed before that courage came back. Celeste had healed well enough to return to duty. The stem cell treatment was effective, and with time and therapy, she’d regain full use of her damaged fingers. Thank God for that medical miracle. When I saw her around the ship with her fellow engineers, she looked happy to be back at work. But she wouldn’t make eye contact, and we didn’t pass each other in the passageways, which had to be intentional on her part—it wasn’t that big a ship, after all. So, I found myself at her quarters, this time when I knew Marco was elsewhere. Mustering that tiny bit of courage I’d nurtured, I touched the entrance chime contact. After a few moments, the hatch slid open.
“Celina—you’re here.” Celeste’s expression was as neutral as she could make it, her tone even and flat—not mad, but not pleased to see me. “The moms told me you’d be stopping by—eventually.”
“Celeste, can I come in? Can we talk?” I struggled to keep the pleading out of my voice, and I desperately wanted not to cry.
Celeste didn’t respond but stepped aside to let me in. She sat in one of several chairs strewn around in no particular grouping, crossed her legs, and merely watched me. She wasn’t making any move to guide me, so I pushed a chair to face her and sat on the edge of the seat, knees squeezed together, hands clasped in my lap.
The silence stretched, so I guessed I should start. “Celeste, I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry for what? For almost killing me? Or for being the resentful person you’ve become since we left Earth.” Celeste stood, walked behind her chair, and gripped the back, knuckles white.
I sat straighter and looked up at her, surprised by the bite of her comment. “I don’t know. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I know it was my fault. I can’t sleep nights thinking about what could have happened, losing you forever. I know I was distracted—upset that I have no one. I feel alone all the time. I miss who we used to be.” The tears finally won, and I let them. I sat, head lowered, covering my tears with my palms. Words failed me. I was overwhelmed. My gut hurt, my eyes burned, and my heart was sure to explode. But I did not know what to say to make it go away.
The minutes ticked by. The tears stopped, but my breathing was still heavy with the moment. Celeste grabbed a stool, sat in front of me, and took my hands away from my face.
“Look, Celina. I’m not mad at you for the accident. You didn’t do it intentionally; everyone was scrambling to prepare the ship. It’s a wonder no one else was hurt. That delay, well, that was my fault, not yours. In the end, you got the rescue teams to me.”
I didn’t exactly smile, but a weight was lifting. “I’m so glad you don’t hate me for that.”
Celeste tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear and squeezed my shoulder. “I could never hate you.” She let go of her other hand and sat back with her hands on her knees, her expression hardening slightly. “But you need to work on your attitude. I did not drag you out here. We’re not in competition. That’s what I’m upset about. And I won’t change who I am just because you’re jealous.”
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I can’t help it.” I wiped my eyes and dried my fingers on my pants. “You make everything look so easy. Everybody loves you and ignores me.”
“Well, you’ve been a bit bristly since we left Earth. You push people away. The truth is, most people are intimidated by how smart you are.” Celeste stood up, took my hand, and got me standing. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I may not have been the best sister lately, spending time with Marco, working on the ship, spending my free time with friends. We can talk about that later. But talk to the moms; maybe they can help. If you think about it, it’s a lot like growing up in New Mexico. Remember when the kids bullied you because you were different? Maybe that’s what you’re feeling. I don’t know. But the moms helped before.” Celeste steered me to the door. “Now, get out. I’m on shift in six hours and need to sleep.”
The hatch slid open. Celeste flashed me a smile, but no hug followed, just a gentle push out the door and a quick wave before the hatch closed.
That’s not what I’d expected when I walked around the gravity ring. But maybe it was all I could ask for.