Pandora: Liminal Space Book 2

Chapter Twenty-Five

Garrett stared into the climate modeler and watched his latest simulation come to life. The S-series machines had a slower computing power than the later models, which meant that his simulations took longer to create and to load, but it had the best visuals package of any of them. Watching the weather unfold in the heart of the machine was like being on the planet itself. Garrett adjusted the imaging equipment on his head, then used the control pad to move his point of view further into the oncoming storm.

This particular simulation was investigating the probability of wintertime tsunamis and how they might affect Pandora's single, solitary outpost. The Neptune would arrive on the planet's main continent during its summer season, and would have about eight standard months of building time before the worst of the weather hit and working outside would become untenable.

Not that summer was a hell of a lot warmer than winter, but the storms were milder, and there was even a brief growing season that they'd have to take ruthless advantage of if they were going to become self-sustaining in five years, which was the Pandora Project's current goal. Originally it had been three years, but Doctor Sims' biologists and botanists had stated in firm unison that such a thing was impossible, and eventually they'd managed to convince their supervisor of that as well. Which didn't mean that there hadn't been plenty of fights over it, but nothing was ever easy with Martina Sims.

Garrett moved his view to the walls of the outpost and gazed out over the dark, storming ocean. On a planet beset on a yearly basis with hurricanes, tidal waves and floods, the founding colonists of Pandora had chosen to put their only settlement right next to the damn sea. Yeah, growing seasons and subtropical jet streams and blah blah blah, but from an efficiency perspective it was ridiculous.

For six months of solid and impassable winter, the settlement—called Pandora City but commonly referred to as the Box—was completely shut in. No building was done except for repairs, no one went outside except in dire circumstances. Over the few centuries of low-level colonization, almost all the deaths that weren't attributed to old age, illness or murder happened when someone found a reason to go out into the fury that was winter outside the Box.

And here it came, like clockwork, the first great tidal wave of the winter season, not always the worst but terribly shocking for all that. Garrett watched from his virtual vantage point on top of the wall, watched the water melt away from the coastline as ever-shifting tectonic plates battled for supremacy miles below the surface of the water. He sped the simulation up, and saw water slide with terrible speed, away over rocky beach and out, out into the horizon, then come crashing back with a growing force, higher and taller than anything nature-made that he'd ever seen before. The front edge of the water boiled with energy, and it crossed the ground between the coast and the Box in moments, a dark purple wave with its edges foaming a sickly, rabid white.

Garrett could almost feel the foundations of the sturdy settlement shudder beneath his feet as the wave rose up and then crashed over them, flooding his vision with blackness and covering the Box with water. The Box could take it, obviously, it had for many years and with the environmental shields up the water just sheeted over them, but it was nevertheless shocking to be plunged into such a deep darkness, and surrounded by so much total, sepulchral silence.

"-arrett. Garrett!" A hard hand smacked him sharply on the shoulder. "Are you listening to me?"

It took a moment, but Garrett finally pulled himself out of the simulation and removed the imaging helmet from his head. He felt strange, shaky and a little ill. His supervisor, naturally, ignored that. Martina's pretty face glared at him, her mouth twisted in a frown. "I've been calling your name for the last two minutes."

"I was working," he said slowly, putting himself back together after it felt like everything had been washed away.

"No, what you should have been doing was working. What you were doing was watching your cute little climate simulations and wasting my time. And why didn't you tell me that you have a first aid class scheduled today?" She pointed at the hardcopy of his work schedule that she had fisted in one hand. "You're supposed to participate in all expedition-required educational classes on your days off."

Garrett shrugged insouciantly, getting into the flow of fighting with Martina. "I scheduled it for an off day, but then the class was cancelled. I didn't choose when it was rescheduled, and—oh, look here." He checked the schedule she was brandishing in his face. "It says here that it's the last standard first aid class being offered before we make Pandora. Looks like my attendance is non-negotiable."

"You shouldn't have waited until the last minute," she fumed. "There's too much work to be done for you to go swanning off and leaving a dozen projects just sitting—"

"It's one afternoon," Garrett pointed out. "One tiny little afternoon. A blip on the radar of life."

Martina put her hands on her hips. "Every moment counts."

"Look—"

"No!" she said stridently, her voice rising with agitation. "Every moment counts, Garrett! And when those moments are supposed to be spent working for the greater scientific advancement of the expedition, I expect them to take place here, in the lab. Your professional time is mine and I don't like to share it. Plan better in the future."

She turned and stalked off down the lab, leaving a wake of startled glances passing between her and Garrett. They didn't often have confrontations, mostly because Garrett gave as good as he got, so watching anything happen between them that went beyond monosyllables was a surprise.

Garrett shrugged it off. He'd almost forgotten the first aid class. Again. Now he definitely had no choice, though. He turned off the climate modeler and set the imaging helmet back on its stand, then stood up and stretched, rubbing lightly at his lower back.

"Oh please," Shekar said from where he sat a few tables away, "Don't even pretend that your highly ergonomic lounge chair makes your back hurt."

"You know, jealousy is an unattractive emotion," he advised his friend.

"It's not jealousy!"

"Envy, then," Garrett grinned. "Avarice. Greed. Covetousness."

"Covet what?" Shekar shook his head. "That isn't even a word."

"It is, my friend, and it applies to you." Garrett patted him on the shoulder. "But don't worry, I forgive you."

"Thanks," Shekar said dryly.

"My pleasure."

"Speaking of off hours, it's my turn to cook tonight," Shekar said, looking between Garrett and Lila. "Are we doing dinner?" They'd taken to cooking for each other one night a week, and of the three of them Shekar was by far the best cook.

"I should be done learning to amputate limbs with my teeth by then," Garrett agreed. "Lila?"

"Oh, I can't," she said apologetically, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I, um, I have a date."

"A date?" Shekar asked, his face falling. "Really?"

"Yes, and it's the only night he could get off this week, otherwise I wouldn't have scheduled it during our dinner," she told him. "I'm sorry."

"Like an actual date with a person?" Shekar persisted. "In person?"

"Yes."

"Who is it?"

"He's a teacher."

"What, like a children's teacher?"

"Yes."

"But you're a scientist," Shekar said, looking totally confused. "What do a geologist and a children's teacher have to talk about?"

Lila rolled her eyes. "What do a geologist and a mathematician have to talk about?"

"Lots of things! Soil mechanics, geotechnical engineering, the calculations for the core sampling equipment...we have plenty to talk about, we work together!"

"Exactly," Lila said shortly. "And I'm tired of talking about work." She turned her eyes resolutely back to her own equipment.

"Fine."

"Good."

"Fine."

"You already said that."

"Yeah, well, I meant it," Shekar snapped. "And actually, this is all for the best, because there are plenty of things I need to catch up on and I think tonight's the night. Garrett," he turned back to their bemused audience, "sorry to disappoint you, but my cooking will not be on the menu this evening. I have things to do."

"What kind of things?" he asked mildly.

"Just...things. Important things. I have to go talk to Doctor Sims." Shekar stood and took off down the lab, his tatty white coat fluttering behind him. Lila looked after him and sighed.

"That went well. Not."

"He'll get over it," Garrett said quietly.

"He'll have to." She looked down again and Garrett put a hand on her shoulder, then left the lab and made his way to the infirmary.