“And the Solar Booker Prize goes to,” the presenter was a nethead by the name Javier Xanana Smithrix, who had started his career in the cutthroat podcasting networks on Mars before being picked up by the Solar News Network. He was wearing mauve, well everything and depending on the angle you were sitting at, his outfit shifted from a suit, to a dress, to a skintight jumpsuit, to a long, flowing robe and back again. He cast an impressive glance at the assembled news drones floating in front of the podium and fixed a steely gaze on the audience beyond them in the darkness of the room.
He lifted the envelope and displayed it to the room, taking his time and opening it slowly, painfully, aware of how much he was torturing the nominees waiting to find just who the committee had seen fit to award the honor of the best novel in the entire solar system for the year was to be given too. He pulled the sheet of paper out of the envelope and leaned down to the microphone. “Alistair Coney for Illumination on Titan!”
The audience erupted into applause and in his seat, Alistair sat, stunned at the sudden and unexpected honor that he had never expected to win. People were helping him to his feet, and he was being hugged- first by his agent, Janney and then by his daughter Aleesha and then he was heading down the long aisle of the auditorium toward the stage, trying to remember everyone he needed to thank and before he knew it, he was walking up the stairs onto the stage and was standing at the podium.
Smithrix handed him the award, a golden sun perched on top of a half open book and then stepped aside and Alistair was left alone, facing the cameras.
“Wow,” he said. “Wow, well, oh man- I’ve got to hurry up here, first of all, I’ve got thank my daughter Aleesha, my late husband Stephen and all the people over at Red Griffin Publishing. My parents were always supportive of me and I want to thank them as well. Fulfilling a promise I made all the way back in eighth grade, I want to thank each and every one of my English teachers for this,” he lifted the award. “This is all your fault and I can’t thank you enough.”
Off stage an orchestra began to play and Alistair knew his time was running out. “Finally, I have to thank my agent of many years, Janney. Eighteen months ago, I was nowhere and at my absolute blackest and she picked me up, dusted me off and kicked my ass all the way out to Titan. The result was the book that won me this award.” The orchestra increased their volume and Alistair knew he was almost out of time. He raised the award, “Thank you!” He said and turned to go to head off stage before he stopped himself just in time- “Oh, and one more person!” He raised his voice so he could be heard about the noise of the orchestra. “Captain Arabella King of the good ship Victory!”
Then he turned and headed off stage, still shaking his head in amazement that he had won the award. Janney had been right, after all. The long months on Titan had been exactly what he needed and he felt more alive than he had been in months, years even. Creativity seemed to be surging through him and he was almost vibrating with ideas and energy and,
“Champagne?” Alistair shook himself and stared. He had made it backstage and an attractive young woman in a long, black dress was holding a tray of champagne glasses. “I’m sorry,” he said. “What?”
“Champagne?” She said and Alistair reached out and took the glass from her, raising it to his lips, his mind searching back and trying to remember when his last glass of champagne had been. It had been twenty months ago and- he smiled as he took a sip. It hadn’t been a glass of champagne. It had been a bottle. In fact, it had been damn near a dozen of them.
It was the clink of bottles knocking against each other that stirred Alistair Coney back to life and he groaned as he felt the pain in his head surge forward and become unbearable. Where the hell am I? He risked opening one eye and was blinded by the sun pouring in the curved window of the great room that overlooked the lip of Marineris Canyon. Wait, sun? Something was different. There shouldn’t be sun. There was a dust storm. The biggest dust storm that Mars had seen in decades should have been raging outside the window. He shouldn’t have been able to see a damn thing. But- he opened his eye again. Clear skies and an impossible view across the largest canyon in the Solar System.
“Alistair?”
Shit. The voice was familiar. Who was that? The voice was familiar and there was a chime… not an obnoxious one But. Shit. Shit. Shit. That was the door alarm. Someone was in his house. The dust storm was over. How the hell was that possible? He couldn’t have planned it better. Go to the Marineris house, hole up, finish the book. With the dust storm raging outside, it wasn’t like he could anywhere- or, more to the point had any desire to go anywhere. He could isolate himself from the world, write, and finish the damn book.
But the storm had gone one longer than anyone anticipated.
“Alistair?” The voice was familiar. His brain tried to fight through the pain to identify it. If the dust storm was over, he’d need to go get supplies. He was running low… in fact, the only thing left was the wine cellar. And, the realization came with another surge of pain as he opened both of his eyes, the last crate of champagne that Stephen had kept there.
“Alistair, where the hell are you?” He groaned a little louder as he recognized the voice of his agent, Janney. The familiar sound of Janney’s heels on the terracotta floor coming closer and closer until he heaved himself upright just in time to see her come into view.
“Oh there you are,” Janney said. She was clad in her usual long leather duster, short skirt and ridiculously high heels. “What the hell have you been doing?” She glanced at the small mountain of bottles surrounding him. “Other than getting drunk out of your tiny mind on champagne that is.”
“What are you doing here?” Alistair croaked.
“It’s deadline day, bucko,” she replied. “I’m here to read your book.”
Oh shit, Alistair thought. The book? “It’s upstairs in the study, I think.”
“Is it done?” When he didn’t say anything Janney rolled her eyes and raised a hand. “You stay there,” she said. “I’ll go find it and see what we’ve got to deal with.”
By the time Alistair had dragged himself into the shower, injected himself with the anti-hangover remedy that they kept in the upstairs bathroom, Janney was waiting for him in the kitchen. He came down the stairs slowly, trying to get some read, some indication of what she thought about the book. She was sitting at the breakfast bar, the box with his next book- or what passed for his next book inside it next to her. Janney had poured herself a glass of what looked like bourbon and had found some ice somewhere.
“Where did you find that?” Alistair asked. “I thought I was out.”
“You are,” Janney replied. “This is mine.”
“You carry bourbon with you?””
“The best of Texas,” Janney replied, raising the glass in salute. She took a sip. “Don’t leave home without it.”
“So,” Alistair said. “You’ve taken a look.”
“I did,” Janney replied. “Technically speaking, it does fulfill the terms of your contract.”
“But?”
“You don’t have it, Alistair,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s a hot mess.”
Alistair said nothing. He walked past her and into the dining nook just off the kitchen, looking out of the floor to ceiling windows that ran the length of that side of the house, overlooking the edge of the canyon.
“I thought I had it.”
“You almost do,” Janney said. “And we can publish it. But you don’t want me to do that.”
“I thought this would be the best place to finish this,” Alistair said. “After Stephen-” his voice cracked for a moment as an unexpected flood of emotion rushed through him. He forced it back down. “We always came here to finish the books,” he said. “We would have breakfast every morning and sit in the Great Room and watch the sun rise over the Canyons, then Stephen would head over to Marineris Town to shop at the Farmer’s Market and look for new furniture and knick-knacks. I would write all day long and then he would come home and cook dinner for us.” Alistair shook his head. “Those were amazing days… the words would come pouring out of me on those days. That’s what I wanted to try and find again.”
“You almost did,” Janney said.
“I know,” Alistair replied. He snorted in amusement. “It was probably the dust storm. I haven’t seen the sun in forever. No light, no golden afternoons, no escapes to the Farmer’s Market. The dust blotted out everything.”
“You need a change of scenery,” Janney replied.
Alistair sighed and, walking back into the kitchen, opened a cabinet, grabbed a glass and walked around the edge of the counter sat down on a bar stool next to Janney. He nodded toward the bourbon. “You going to hook me up with a drop of that?”
“Sure you can handle it?” Janney said. “You were in pretty rough shape when I got here.”
“Hair of the dog, Janney,” Alistair replied. “Help me out, will you?”
Janney rolled her eyes and fished out a small flask from somewhere on her person. She unscrewed the lid and leaning over, poured a small measure into Alistair’s glass. He raised it to his lips and took a sip. He closed his eyes and sighed in pleasure. “You weren’t kidding,” he said. “That’s delicious.”
“I enjoy it,” Janney replied. “But back to previous remarks. You need a change of scenery.”
Alistair’s eyes narrowed. “Did you come here with a plan in mind?”
“No,” Janney said. “I came here to read your book and hopefully get it published.”
“Fair point,” Alistair said.
“However,” Janney said. “While you were pulling yourself together, I made some arrangements.”
Alistair looked suspicious. “What kind of arrangements?”
“You ever been to Titan?”
“No,” Alistair said.
“Well, you’re going,” Janney replied. “We’ve got a cabin in the mountains of the northern continent. About five miles north of the nearest settlement.”
“Mountains, huh?”
“Yep,” Janney replied. “And plenty of methane mists and fogs for your to contemplate.”
“How long can you give me to fix this?”
“Six months,” Janney said. “But it’ll take you two to get there.”
“All right,” Alistair said. He knocked back the last of the bourbon and stood up, slowly turning and glancing around the kitchen, trying to take it all in and memorize every detail. Maybe he would come back here someday. Maybe he wouldn’t- maybe this should be the final farewell. This wasn’t really his house. It had been their house and now he was alone again. He turned to Janney. “When do I leave?”
Janney must have known he wasn’t going to stick the landing on his book. Everything moved very quickly after that. He packed just one, large bag: a few books, tablets to do some writing on, a copy of the manuscript, a pen and clothes, since Janney assured him his berth in the freighter had a laundry slot and everything he could possibly want or need for the trip out. Then, he shuttered the house and called Old Mrs. Simpkins at the ranch across the canyon from them and, after a conversation that took far too long for his liking, he extracted a promise from her to come by and look in on the house from time to time.
Then, airship to Olympos Mons- the titanic beauty of the largest mountain in the solar system silencing him on the trip in, as all he could do was sit in the dining hall and look at the view as they approached the docking station. Then, as he descended into the main transit hub, he was reminded why he never went anywhere near Olympos Mons if he could possibly avoid it. Too many people- and way too many climbers- from settlements across Mars and throughout the solar system, all with excessive amounts of gear looking for their shot at the summit.
Through the crowds, then onto the maglev for the ride down to Ascraeus Mons, zooming through various fossae and passing settlements large and small. One more change, this time for the regular old express shuttle that rumbled between Ascraeus and Pavonis Mons. Finally at Pavonis, it was time for the motions of departure: check in, go through security and find a seat on the next space elevator up to the terminal.
Up the space elevator, almost forgetting to take his anti-nausea pills as the gravity began to drop. Then, once he arrived, it was a twenty minute walk through the gravity ring to find his gate and then, he was welcomed aboard the Borboleta, a long haul freighter with a load of passengers heading to the outer colonies, himself included- after that, the steward who showed him to his cabin said, they were going to spend a good six months comet wrangling in the Oort Cloud. Alistair didn’t think he was looking forward to it all that much.
Once they reached his cabin, Alistair had to admit that Janney had done well. The view was stunning, thanks to a gorgeous curved window that ran from the floor to the ceiling in the side of the ship. The room was narrow, resembling a sleeper berth on one of the old-style passenger trains they still used in parts of Terra. Everything he needed was here- a bed- capsule style, tucked into the wall. A desk with a lamp next to the window, an acceleration couch for the long burns the ship would have to take to get them to their destination. A shower, a laundry slot, a food dispenser, an entertainment console… it was perfect.
Alistair slung his bag onto the bed before stretching himself out on the acceleration couch to watch the long, red curve of Mars out of the window far below him. For the first time in months, he felt a shiver of pleasure run down his spine. He could write here. Yes. This felt right.
For the first month, Alistair did nothing but eat, sleep and write. He kept to himself, never wandering the ship or meeting the crew and the other passengers. Just eat, sleep and write. He didn’t touch the book, though. He deliberately wrote other things: short stories, micro-fiction, half of what was either going to be his next book or a pretty decent novella- he couldn’t decide which. He even attempted some poetry- even though he had never been able to understand or connect with it the way other people always seemed to.
With every passing day, Mars receded behind them until, getting smaller and smaller until it was a tiny orange point of light amongst the rest. Alistair felt the weight of Stephen’s loss and his grief grow lighter. It didn’t vanish- the loss was too recent for that and Alistair hoped that the grief- some small part of it, anyway, would stay with him forever. But for the first time in a long time, the loss was bearable. He could carry it now. It wasn’t crushing him. That, he guessed, could be seen as some small sign of progress.
They were into the asteroid belt now, with its mining operations and hollowed out worlds and colonies swirling in the darkness. It was a busy place, these days, so there were plenty of ships passing by outside the window to capture his attention in between all the writing, but as the first month ended, he found himself writing less and reading more. He’d call up books that he had always wanted to read but never had the time too. (Dickens, Austen and Tolstoy featured heavily on this list.) He dug into the entertainment archives and binged on movies and television shows going back centuries. (Stephen had always enjoyed and, in fact, had been a student of the old Terran sitcoms. He had completed his doctoral thesis on them.)
Soon enough, they were making the turn to begin orbital insertion into the Jovian System. The ship needed fuel and provisions and was making a stop at Callisto before travelling on to the outer colonies. When the Captain came over the loudspeaker to announce they were starting the breaking procedure, Alistair turned off the show he was watching and just laid back on the couch to watch (and to ride out the hard deceleration as they came into Jupiter’s orbit.) He dimmed the lights in his cabin as well, just in time to catch sight of the lights of Ganymede, all spiderwebbed and geometric patterns etched into the surface of the moon. The ice towers of Europa were soon followed by the fire, swirling hellscape that was Io and soon enough, they were hanging just above Callisto Station, waiting for a docking berth. Jupiter hung above everything, to Alistair’s eye not appearing to move, the Great Red Spot looking like a baleful eye, watching over all of it.
It took two hours for them to get a docking berth, but as soon as they were docked, Alistair decided that he wanted to stretch his legs a bit. The Captain advised that they had scheduled eight hours or so for their layover, so Alistair had the better part of the day to himself. It took some adjustment and an anti-nausea pill to get used to the lower gravity, but he soon adjusted, and, once he had made his way through customs he found himself wandering through the Zocalo that dominated the upper levels of the Great Tower that made up Callisto Station.
After a brief meal at a taco stand, he found himself drawn to the lines of tourists at the elevators waiting to ascend to the top of Callisto Tower. Surprising himself, he joined the line. Who knew when he would be back in the Jovian System or even if he would come again to Callisto? Everyone said that the view from Callisto Tower was unmatched in the Solar System. Going to the top of Callisto Tower was what you did when you were on Callisto. Like taking a rover up Olympos Mons on Mars or visiting the Grand Canyon back on Terra.
It took about twenty minutes or so to work his way through the line but then he was in the elevator, heading up to the viewing platform, a crowd of tourists around him, chattering away. As they travelled upward, Alistair said nothing, letting the conversations wash over him There was a group of young University students from Terra in one corner- it was their first trip to the outer Solar System. A retired couple from Mars was bickering at the front of the elevator. A family from Ganymede was talking excitedly about the view. Alistair just smiled and let it all wash over him. So many stories. So much life.
The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened and there were audible gasps as the crowd moved out onto the viewing platform. The windows were at least twenty feet high and wrapped the length of the room. They could see everything. Jupiter hanging still in the sky and the icefields of Callisto spreading out below them.
Alistair found an isolated spot closest to the window and drank in the view. They had to be a mile up, maybe more. Far below he could see the ships in their docking ports and below that, he could see ice walkers rumbling out onto the ice fields. Ahead of him, Ganymede and it’s web of cities and lights was rising and he assumed if he would walk around the platform Leda or Himalia would be rising. The view, Alistair had to admit, was incredible. One of the few things in the solar system that lived up to the hype.
Then, his phone rang. People turned at the noise, and Alistair ducked his head to conceal his smile. His phone was increasingly anachronistic these days. Most of the younger generation preferred to get the implants, but he wanted the feel of something physical in his hands. So, he had a phone. An old style one, that looked for all the world like a cellular phone from centuries past. People who saw him on it either thought it was cool or weird.
“Hello?”
“Dad?”
Alistair smiled. “Aleesha! I’m sorry I didn’t get to call you before I left!”
“No worries,” Aleesha replied. “Janney updated me. I just thought I’d call and check in.” There was a long pause before she spoke again. “Are you… okay?”
“You know where I am right now, ‘Leesha?”
“Where?”
“I’m on the top of Callisto Tower, I’ve got a smile on my face and I’m taking it all in.”
“Does it live up to the hype?” She asked.
“Oh yeah,” Alistair said. “Ganymede is rising right in front of me, you can see Star City. It’s beautiful. All we need is a nice French restaurant and-”
Aleesha chuckled. “You wouldn’t need the restaurant part, Dad. Just a table, two chairs and a bottle of Petrus and Pop would have been happy.”
“He would have loved this,” Alistair said.
“You’re not sad, are you?”
“No,” Alistair said. “No, I’m really not. I’m doing okay, ‘Leesha.”
“Good!” She said. “Well, I just wanted to call and see how things were going, Dad. I’m on a break at work so I should get back.”
“All right, kid. Love you.”
“Love you too, Dad.” Then she hung up and Alistair slipped the phone back into his pocket and went back to admiring the view. Things were changing. Something was coming. A new chapter was about to be written. He unwrapped and wrapped up cliches in his head as he made a slow circuit of the viewing platform, drinking in the view. He hadn’t felt like this for a very long time. He was… energized. Ready to embrace… change. There had been moments in his life like this before. Versions of himself that he’d left behind as he’d moved through life. Thinking about it, there were past versions of himself he could remember, events that he know he lived through but he couldn’t imagine being those people again. You don’t live one life, Alistair thought. You live many lives. Write many chapters.
He was back where he began now, Ganymede in front of him, the sprawling lattice of Star City like a jewel on the shoulder of Jupiter. He sighed and smiled a sad, melancholy smile. Aleesha had been right. It wouldn’t have taken a French restaurant to make Stephen happy with a view like this. Just a small table, two chairs and a bottle of wine. He would have sat here for hours and Alistair would have sat with him. Maybe they would have talked. Maybe they would have just enjoyed the quiet together.
“Time to write the next chapter,” he said out loud. Then he turned and headed back to the elevator to head back down the tower. It was time to get back to the ship.
The second month, Alistair did his best to avoid looking at the book, but soon they were just over a fortnight away from entering the orbit of Saturn and he could no longer avoid it. One night, as they were starting their turn to begin the long deceleration to Saturn, he sat down with the manuscript and a pen and, bracing himself began to read.
Janney had been right, of course. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. He set to work and showed no mercy as the days began to quicken and Saturn grew ever closer. Alistair was brutal. He couldn’t afford not to be. Slash. Slash. Slash. His pen was a scalpel. Spelling errors and plot threads fell under his advancing army of revision- which admittedly was just him and his pen.
Around about Chapter Five, Alistair shook his head in disgust. His protagonist was zigging when he should have zagged. What the hell had he been thinking? Champagne. Or possibly wine, he thought to himself. This wasn’t right. Not at all. His hero shouldn’t do that. Not at all. He had to put it down for a day to think about it.
Saturn was growing larger with every passing day- and whether it was real or imagined, Alistair felt the pressure start to grow. They had shipped him out to the back end of beyond to fix this book. It made sense for them to do so, given the size of his contract. The publishing company had a lot of money invested in his success. But, the seed of fear and doubt inside of him was growing along with Saturn.
What if the book couldn’t be fixed?
What if he wasn’t writing well?
What if he couldn’t locate the problem or dig in fast enough to get a handle on what he needed to do to make it work?
He woke up, the second to last night in a cold sweat and sat down and fired off a message to Janney, pouring out every fear, every doubt, every little thing prickling at him. That made him feel better- and he spent the last day onboard relaxing- alternating between watching movies and starting out of his window as Saturn dominated the view.
Janney’s reply came in just as they were cruising along the outer ring, skimming across the ice crystals and rocks. Alistair was waiting to catch sight of his destination as he opened the message. It was text only, Janney’s preferred method and it was brief:
THERE’S THE ALISTAIR I REMEMBER!
HOPE THE TRIP IS GOING GREAT. IN THE MEANTIME, I WASN’T LYING BACK ON MARS. YOU’RE CLOSE. IT JUST NEEDS A BETTER ENDING.
Alistair chuckled. She wasn’t wrong- Alistair had noticed it too. The ending was flat. It just didn’t work. The protagonist spent most of the book deciding to leave his home on Terra to seek illumination out in the stars- leaving his family, friends and home behind for the first time in his life, only to turnaround and go back home anyway.
“You need a better ending,” Alistair said aloud to the cabin. The ship’s PA system clicked on. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are fifteen minutes from Titan control. We’re scheduled to be at our docking berth in about an hour.”
Alistair looked up and there was Titan, emerging from behind the curve of Saturn, a cloudy, turquoise marble hanging in the sky. The fact that there was life on Titan at all was somewhat miraculous. The great terraforming mirrors had been in place for nearly a century now, so the planet was alive with activity- the ice mantle had been thawed out and artificial continents had been placed on the surface to give people a place to live- the second one had been christened with great fanfare just five years before. Now, the residents of Titan were grappling with their next challenge: building a sea floor so they could introduce aquatic life.
All the terraforming had made life a lot more pleasant as well- at least for a given value of pleasant. Temperatures were still cold, but advanced cold weather suits hadn’t been needed for decades now. A breathing apparatus, some goggles and a decent winter coat were all people needed these days. Now they sailed the oceans, walked the ice, skied in the mountains. They lived in cabins and drank warm, nourishing drinks- some of them alcoholic. All in all, Alistair decided, it sounded like the perfect place to finish the book.
This was the place. Time to find that ending.
Two months later and Alistair was beginning to despair of ever finding that perfect ending. The cabin Janney had set him up in was beautiful. It was high on the slopes of Mount Rhea. There were redwoods and sequoias up the slope to his north. A narrow road ran south down the mountain along a slope that overlooked the Great Northern Sea. Far, far below along the waterfront he could see the tiny cluster of buildings that made up Port Arthur, the nearest settlement.
Every morning he would wake up, make some coffee and watch as the methane fog lifted and the great mirror rose in the sky, casting it’s light and warmth across the mountain side to lift the fog. Then he would write. And for the past two months, it had been amazing. The book was polished. It was so polished it was gleaming. It was damn near perfect and perhaps- though Alistair would never in a million years say this out loud to anyone, even himself- the best thing he had ever written. But the ending was still elusive. He just couldn’t get it right and Janney was starting to drop not so subtle hints that she was preparing to hop on an express shuttle and come get the book herself if he didn’t deliver a finished product soon.
But on this particular morning, by Alistair’s reckoning about his fifty-first morning on Titan, he woke up and realized that after pouring the grounds into the filter and turning the coffee machine on that he was out of coffee. Despite being momentarily depressed by this realization, Alistair rallied when he realized that he would have no choice but to head down into town to get more. His latest attempt at an ending was sitting crumpled up on the kitchen table. He was doing his best to avoid dealing with it and having to go get some more coffee gave him the perfect excuse to do so.
He worked his way through the pot, watching as the fog slowly lifted and then, after he drained his last cup, he put on his boots, breather, winter coat, hat and mittens (he couldn’t forget the mittens) and stepped through the lock and walked out to his small personal rover. He punched in the code on the door, stepped into the lock and then waited until the pressure evened out before opening the inner hatch and stepping into the rover.
Taking his breather off, he settled into the driver’s seat of the rover and, activating the onboard computer set his destination for the town. With a rumble, the rover lurched forward down the road to the town. Port Arthur was a small settlement, which was surprising given the amount of shipping and activity that came through there. There was a Main Street, a dozen or so buildings of various heights and architectural styles and then the port facility, but not much else. People were friendly, everyone knew each other and at the center of it all was the town’s General Store.
The title was a misnomer, Alistair reflected a few minutes later as the rover emerged from the treeline and out onto the flat plain where the town was located. It was a General Store, but it also doubled as a deli and a coffee shop during the day and the local watering hole at night. Six months ago he would have probably described it as rustic. Now, having spent a few months on Titan it seemed the epitome of normality. Plus, there was always a crowd of regulars there.
The rover came to a halt in front of the building and Alistair went through his usual routine of putting his breather back on, exiting the rover and walking to the entrance to the store and entering it’s lock and going through the whole routine once more as the inner door opened and he stepped inside.
“Morning, Alistair.”
Alistair took his breather off. “Morning, Tom,” he said to the large, bearded man behind the counter that bore a passing resemblance to a Viking.
“How’s the weather out there?”
“Positively warm.”
“Excellent, I’ll break out my Bermuda shorts,” Tom who was either a long time employee or the owner- which Alistair had yet to figure out- but whatever his job title, Tom was always behind the counter whenever Alistair showed up and always seemed to know where everything was. “What are you after today?” Tom asked.
“Coffee.”
“You’re in luck,” Tom replied. “We just got a shipment in from Mars yesterday. Aisle six.”
“Thanks, Tom.”
Alistair grabbed a basket and began to idle his way up and down the aisles. HIs mother had always told him that it was a bad idea to shop while you were hungry- come to think of it, Stephen had always told him that as well, but he never seemed to listen. Sure enough, the protein bars that he liked we back in stock. Along with the flavored kale chips that were rapidly becoming the iconic food of Ganymede. Somewhere in Aisle Four, he heard the lock door open and a small bell above it ring.
“Bella?” Tom sounded incredulous.
“Tom, you old pirate!”
“Wasn’t expecting you back for months!”
“We hit the motherlode our first week out in the Oort Cloud so we’re back, we’re rich and we’re looking for a good time!”
Alistair made his way back up the Aisle to see who the new arrival was. She was tall, thing, with a cascade of auburn hair halfway down her back. She was dressed in a long, brown leather coat and wearing cowboy boots and she turned as she heard him come up the aisle.
“Who’s this?” She asked Tom, nodding in his direction.
“There here is Alistair Coney, the writer who’s been staying up at McClintock’s Old Place.”
“Oh yeah,” she strode forward and extended a hand. “Captain Arabella King,” she said. ‘Tom’s mentioned you from time to time.”
“I’m honored,” Alistair said.
“So what brings you down to the store?” Arabella asked.
“Coffee,” he replied.
“A man after my own heart,” she said with a grin. “How goes the book?”
“The ending eludes me,” he admitted. Then, somewhat surprising himself- though maybe not so surprising, given how isolated he had been up in the cabin, he found himself telling Arabella all about it and she was listening- not with polite interest or feigned interest, but actual interest so he kept going and going until he couldn’t talk anymore. “And that’s where I’m stuck at. My character needs motivation. He needs to come to the realization that beauty is everywhere, in big things and in small and he doesn’t need to run all over the solar system to find it.”
Arabella, who by now had sat down and was sipping at a glass of Martian Single Malt that Tom had produced from somewhere under the counter, pursed her lips and scratched the back of her head for a second. “You done any exploring since you’ve been here?”
Alistair shook his head. “My agent sent me here to fix the book. I’ve been buried for a good two months now.”
Arabella exchanged a glance with Tom. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“It is the rainy season,” Tom said. “You sure the ship is up to it?”
“The Good Ship Victory?” Arabella looked offended. “She’s up for anything!”
Tom raised his hands in apology. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry- it’s just your fresh back from wrangling comets in the Oort Cloud, I’d figured you’d have some dents to buff out.”
“You say dents, I call them beauty marks,” Arabella replied.
Tom chuckled. “It’s your ship.”
Arabella turned back to Alistair. “I think I might have the inspiration you’re looking for,” she said. “Meet me back here tomorrow morning at 9 am.. We’re going to take a little trip.”
“Well, color me intrigued,” Alistair said. “I’ll be here.”
As it turned out, Alistair was fifteen minutes early- a fact that Arabella noted with approval, he saw. “Good, you’re early,” she said. “Let’s go!”
“Where are we going?” Alistair asked.
“To my ship,” Arabella said. “We’re going for a ride.” She pulled her breather on and gestured for Alistair to do them same and then she lead him out through the lock and out into the street beyond.
It had snowed the night before, the methane snow white on the road and the paths. Alistair tried to walk cautiously, but Arabella made it impossible for him to do so. She was still clad in her long, brown leather coat and boots- her only concession to the cold war a pair of ear muff, while Alistair for his part was bundled up in his parka, snowsuit, boots and big heavy gloves. Soon, he had thrown caution to the winds and was hopping and jumping around ice patches to keep up with Arabella.
Soon enough, they were at the docks and Alistair stopped and gawked at the sight. The Good Ship Victory, as Arabella had called it looked as if it had sprung directly from Terra’s past to land smack dab in the middle of Titan’s sea. It was… a ship, with a mast and sails and a transparent nano filament dome that allowed crew members to walk around on the deck as if they were sailing the seas in the wide, open air of Terra.
Arabella turned, realizing that he had stopped waved him forward. He could see her smile under her breather and he hurried to catch up. He caught up with her and followed her up the gang plank and into the lock. They waited a moment and then Arabella pushed the inner door open and took off her breather.
“Welcome aboard!” Then she was off, Alistair struggling to keep up with her. She strode through below decks with practiced ease, exchanging nods, smiles and remarks with her crew as she did so.
“Jim, did you get the engine tuned?” A thin man with dreadlocks was about to head down a ladder- presumably toward the engine room.
“Aye, captain. We’re ready to go.”
“Awesome!” Arabella replied. “Sasha!” She saw her next target. “We’ve got food, right?”
“Tom hooked us up! We’re good!”
The hallway was narrow, and Alistair thought it resembled an old Earth submarine- everything was metal. Doors were narrow. People were adept at jumping out of the Arabella’s way, so Alistair guessed that this was the speed she normally moved at, breather hanging from one hand, leather coat billowing behind her. “Mikey!” This guy was tall, thin with only a few strands of hair left on his head.
“Captain!”
“You get little Sushen a birthday present?”
“Yep, shipped it home today!”
“Good man, good man!”
The long hallway opened up suddenly into the galley. Arabella turned left down another short hallway which ended in a ladder she began to climb- but not before casually tossing her breather to one side, where it landed on an expertly placed hook. Alistair stopped and hung his breather next to hers and then followed Arabella up the ladder and out onto the deck.
The deck was alive with activity which came to a halt as Arabella climbed out onto the deck and stepped up to the platform to take the wheel from a burly bearded man that Alistair assumed was her first mate. “Captain on deck!” he bellowed. Everything stopped.
“We’re going to take our friend here for a little trip,” she said nodding to Alistair. “First mate, are we ready for departure?”
“Aye aye, Captain!” He bellowed again.
“Then cast off, and let’s rock and roll!”
The deck exploded with activity again and Alistair could only gawk as the nano filament dome shimmered gold for a moment as the ship began to pull away from the dock. The sails came billowing down and whipped outward with the wind and he felt the ship began to gather speed as it made for the entrance of the harbor.
Arabella, one hand casually on the wheel of her ship, motioned for him to come up and join her and Alistair did so.
“What do you think?”
“This is amazing,” Alistair said.
She threw back her head and laughed. “You ain’t seen nothing yet! Grab ahold!” Alistair stepped to the railing and grabbed on as the Victory reached the mouth of the harbor. Then a low rumble ran through the ship and he watched as two more hulls began to deploy from the sides of the ship and eventually came to a halt, turning the ship into a large catamaran.
“Here we go!” Arabella shouted. “All hands brace for launch!”
Alistair braced and then, the Victory began to move. Slowly at first and then faster and faster and faster, slicing through the waves like knives and then, incredibly, the ship began to rise and was soon free of the water and soaring through the sky above Titan. They rose higher and higher and the nano filament began to glow with the heat as they raced into the upper atmosphere of the planet. Orange first, then yellow, then incandescent white and then they were free, the blackness of space around them, Saturn an immense yellow orb in the sky above them.
The Victory sped a little higher before the engines cut and the two hulls that had deployed slid back into their hiding places. Then Arabella turned the wheel and they were off again, heading in the general direction of Saturn.
Alistair was still trying to take it all in. Spaceships didn’t work like this. They were comfortable, but boxy, not at all elegant. He wasn’t sure who Arabella King was, but she was enough of a romantic and rich enough to build a ship that was worthy of the name. It seemed anachronistic in many ways, but it was… “This is incredible!” He said aloud.
“It is, isn’t it?” Arabella asked.
“How did you do this?” Alistair said. “I mean, this ship, this dome, this- everything!”
Arabella laughed. “It took me years of busting my ass to get this baby restored and up and running. But it was worth it”
“It was!” Alistair said. “Where are we going?”
“Skimming into the atmosphere,” Arabella said. “You want inspiration, this will do it.” They were over the rings of Saturn now, plunging toward the planet. The nano filaments began to glow once more as they plunged into Saturn’s atmosphere, heating up to white before cooling down to orange and then nothing again, as they raced through the clouds. Arabella began to slow the ship as the clouds thickened around them, glancing over at monitors next to her until-
“All stop,” Arabella called.
“Aye, aye,” the first mate replied. “All stop.”
The Victory rumbled to a halt, hanging in the Saturnian fog. Waiting, for what, Alistair didn’t know.
“Time check,” Arabella called.
“Two minutes meteorology reports,” the mate replied.
“Good,” Arabella said. She turned to Alistair with a smile. “Now we wait.”
“For what?” Alistair said.
“You’ll see. Head to the front of the ship, you’ll get the best view.”
Alistair did so, wondering again at how he had come to be here. Four months ago, he had been on Mars. Now, he was staring out into Saturn. And, after while, Saturn answered back. It was hard to see at first. They looked like snowflakes really, but then they grew and grew and began to spark and sizzle on the Victory’s atmospheric dome- little bursts of electricity on the nano-filaments cascading down. The timing made sense a moment later, as one of the great flying lanterns that flew through the atmosphere of Saturn came by and illuminated everything.
Alistair gasped. It had been hard to see in the fog, but now he did see. It was raining diamonds. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Points of light, little suns, stars, glittering and falling all around them, appearing above them and disappearing below them into the fog again. And then he began to laugh out loud, not caring how loud or how long he laughed. Arabella had been right. Just like that, he had found his ending.
