This is chapter 11, have you read chapter one yet?
Something was on fire, but all Simonee could see when she woke was oily darkness.
She gasped up the black air and coughed. It tasted of plastic and toasted insulation. Her eyes burned.
With a whirr of fans, the smoke cleared, and a hand grabbed at her. “Simonee?” She grabbed back, pulled, it lifted.
Now she was blinded by brightness.
She coughed again and cleared her eyes. Estrella was there, dabbing at her head, dark eyes so close. It hurt where she touched but... outside.
A crack cut the window through two layers of fused-silica, but the frame was full of dirty clouds and daylight. She’d never made landfall before, always skipping about in the dark—the sun a glare in the glass, not a painter of skies. It hurt her eyes, but she fought the urge to blink.
“What... what happened?”
The last thing she remembered before somebody turned on the spin cycle, was rushing to the bridge as alarm klaxons blared throughout the ship. Mariem and Estrella were hollering at Carlos and pointing at Venus looming large in the front window, before the crack.
“What do you mean you disabled the navigation computer?” Estrella barked.
“I mean, I turned it off,” Carlos said. “I did the calculations by hand—just forgot to adjust for orbital progression, that’s all. I turned it back on but... It didn’t catch on for a while.”
“That’s all?” Mariem roared. “We’re going to hit atmosphere at a hundred thousand kilometers per hour!”
“We’ve got plenty of time to slow down,” Carlos mumbled.
“Great, so rather than disintegrate on impact, we’ll just explode in a ball of fire,” Estrella said.
Venus slid away from the view and Simonee stumbled backward.
“There, chemical boosters on full.” Carlos said. “No problemo.”
“Except,” Estrella pointed at the nav screen, still angrily flashing red. “We’re still way above safe re-entry.”
Carlos shrugged. “Meh, twenty-thousand kilometers an hour—the scram-jets can handle it.”
The scram jets didn’t quite handle it. They hit air like a wall. Then they were spinning, and Simonee got flung into something hard. The world went black.
Estrella sighed, and pressed a gauze pad to Simonee’s temple. “We lost a booster. Scrams couldn’t fire, LOX burnt off in the injectors and Dad tried another chemical burn. It blew clean off.”
A spark caught her eye. Under the blue haze, among the pillars of tan and gold clouds a cluster of three shining spheres floated in the distance—about the size of melons. Ships glittered between them, dragging blue, red and gold streamers behind. They reminded Simonee of the Japanese fighting fish she’d seen in pet shops on the Corp Ring promenade back on Enceladus Station, along with balls of moss and other low maintenance pets.
The spheres themselves sparkled in the sun, their surfaces broken into triangular glass panes. Landing strips and docking towers skirted the lower half of the spheres and long counterweights pinched out into metallic stalactites, piercing the thick clouds below.
“Are those the cloud balls?” Simonee asked. “How do they keep from falling? It’s not thrust.”
“Buoyancy.” Estrella wrapped tape around her head. “Like big balloons. Oxygen and Nitrogen are a lifting gas here. Technically they’re called tensegrity spheres, based on an idea by a guy named Buckminster Fuller, but marketing felt cloud balls, rolled off the tongue a little easier—something cute to draw settlers in to work the carbon sieves.”
Wait. Simonee glanced around. “Where’s Mariem?”
“EVA. That little tailspin broke interlock and jammed the moorings.” She turned away. “So Mariem’s braving wind shear and death to cut the Crafthopper loose, isn’t that right, dad?”
“She’s got a tether.” Carlos growled from somewhere under the console.
Estrella shook her head. “You’re an inspiration.”
“Shouldn’t somebody check on her?” But she didn’t stay for an answer. Simonee bolted for the hatch, down the corridor and into the cargo bay, where a terrible scream grated through the decking, rattling crates. She covered her ears.
Bright day pierced the airlock window where there used to be a tube to Bastien’s ship.
The scream died down for a minute, before sounding again. It started low like a growl and then pitched up into a full throated screech like a million nails against an infinite chalkboard.
Simonee attacked the comm panel next to the door, scrolling through the linked device list. None of the addresses were labeled well. She tapped the first one.
“Mariem? Is that you? Are you okay?”
Nothing.
“Mariem?”
Darla’s voice crackled over the speaker, “Sorry Shoog, wrong channel. Mariem’s cutting us loose. One of the shackles twisted stuck on the mooring.”
“Oh, it sounds awful,” Simonee said.
“Tell me about it, that’s not a cheap sound either from where I’m sittin’. Hope Carlos is open to splitting the repairs. You should see this thing on your external cameras, it’s a mess!”
“Oh, right, cameras!” Simonee blurted, “Thanks Darla, gotta go… hey, how is Joy? Was she strapped in at all?”
“She took a tumble; Bastien’s patching her up but she hit her head good. They’re waiting for us in the terminal.”
“Shit, I want to be there with her.”
“I know, Sim. But they’ll take care of her. Hey, while I got you—I installed the package. So all I have to do is run the command and—”
“Yeah—clean.” She swallowed.
“And the echo protocol?”
“If that happens, it’ll trigger the cleanup daemon. Not as quick but... Bastien will be fine.” This time the swallow stuck. “I’m sorry I can’t go with you guys. You know—”
“I know. Don’t worry yourself, you did more than you had to.”
She tried to smile. “Hey, maybe when you’re back around, we can find time for another dragon battle or—”
“Yeah, maybe—look, I gotta fly this bug outta here as soon as we’re free, so... goodbye, Simonee.”
The link dropped and she stared at the panel. “Bye,” she whispered, then switched on the aft cameras.
The light off the clouds below glared across the image, but Mariem was there, her EVA suit tethered to the hull. She leaned against the tether with both boots on the bulkhead and gripped a rotary cutter over a mangled pretzel of metal wrapped around the mooring.
Sparks rained out, glancing off the Crafthopper shifting precariously behind her.
Simonee hit the other unnamed address. “Mariem?”
No response.
“Mariem!”
Mariem shook her helmeted head, tucked the cutter under her one arm and tapped the control panel on the other.
“For fuck’s sake, can’t you see I’m busy?” the speaker blared.
“It’s Simonee, I just wanted to see if you were alright.”
“I’ll be fine as soon as this fucking shackle is loose so I can come inside and strangle Carlos.”
“We’ll take turns,” Estrella called from behind Simonee, making her jump. When did she show up?
The speaker crackled, “Oh, great, you’re there too. How’s the safety in there? All cozy and not in peril?”
“I broke a nail helping my dad reseat the nav computer,” Estrella said, inspecting her fingers. “Can you hurry it up out there? I’d like to get Syl’s release over with before dinner.”
Mariem slapped her arm panel and the link died. She threw up a gloved middle-finger at the camera, and attacked the shackle again—this time with extra sparks.
When the shackle broke free, the Crafthopper released the other three moorings and dropped out of view.
When Simonee turned from the screen, Estrella was still there, watching.
“Sounds like you and Mrs. Faulk got pretty close, spending all that time on the Crafthopper.”
Everything went numb all at once. “How do you...” She bit down and looked her in the eye. “You’ve been spying on me.”
Estrella crossed her arms and stalked forward. “Simonee, it’s my job to know everything. Zentari-Neys intelligence briefs me continuously on every detail of my missions. For instance, I know that, besides Bastien and Darlene—sorry, Darla—there is only one other passenger on that ship: the construct, 90955, listed on his cargo manifest. Then I observe and discover that you seem to have taken an interest in, even named this construct Joy. And I find patterns. Briefed, as I was, on the societal framework extant within the construct commune known as Sanctuary, I can only assume you intend to petition their present doyenne, known as Molly, to keep that name. Zentari-Neys requires that I report any such observations or patterns that they might find... interesting. Such as the famed Simonee Saran—a key member of the coup that disrupted the power dynamic on Enceladus station—suddenly showing up at a community of unregulated constructs.”
She stopped right in front of her. Simonee just gaped. “I uh—”
Estrella held up a hand, and turned to the airlock as it hissed open. “Joy is a good name for her—such pretty green eyes. Emerald 42, I think they call it.” She looked at Simonee. “Be careful—don’t become interesting.”
Simonee swallowed—nodded.
Mariem stomped out of the airlock. “What are you two in here chatting about?”
Simonee rushed in and wrapped her arms around her. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
Mariem patted Simonee’s head and grunted, “I need a shower.”
She agreed, but squeezed tighter until Mariem pried her off.
A smirk crawled up to Estrella’s ear, and Mariem sighed. “Where’s Carlos?”
Estrella raised an eyebrow. “Landing.”
“Oh, hell no.” Mariem yanked her legs out of the EVA suit and marched off, leaving it crumpled on the deck.
“I thought you wanted a shower?” Simonee called after her.
“I also want to live long enough to enjoy it,” she called back.
Estrella jerked her head after Mariem. “Well, do you want to watch this bird land or not?”
Simonee avoided Estrella’s eyes, touched the gauze on her head. “I don’t know, last time I almost got a concussion.”
Mariem’s voluminous bluster echoed from the bridge, followed by Carlos’s own rumble.
“Don’t worry,” Estrella said, “I’m sure Mariem will put us down safe—like a bumblebee in a hurricane.”
When they got to the bridge, Mariem threw an unnecessary finger at the rear of the ship. “And don’t forget, that aft wing-flap’s real touchy since you wouldn’t let me replace it after the ammonia storm on Titan.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Carlos waggled his head. “I remember that near-death experience.”
“Alright, boss,” Mariem said, crossing her arms and stepping back. “Do your thing.”
“Thank you,” Carlos grumbled. “I appreciate your restraint.”
“What’s going on?” Simonee asked.
“Our Captain,” Mariem said, sweeping a dramatic glance from Simonee to Estrella. “Is going to take us in for a landing.”
“And you’re letting this happen?” Estrella whispered.
“He needs to save face after nearly getting us all killed,” Mariem whispered back.
“Oh,” Estrella whispered with a long nod. “Did he remind you by chance he was landing ships on dimes before you were even born?”
“Oh yeah,” Mariem whispered back. “I got a whole heaping helping of the good ‘ol days.”
“Fuck you all very much,” Carlos growled over his shoulder.
Cloud Ball 9 was huge—at least four kilometers in diameter—twice as wide as the LuxHab ring on Enceladus station.
The landing pad spread out before them as the glass segments filled the view. Airships floated, tethered to pylons, and various other aircraft spotted the surface. Workers scurried about like ants wearing orange overalls, and breather masks that only covered their faces.
An arching white line appeared in the smartglass, flickering across the crack, and Carlos steered into it. With more wobble than grace, Carlos touched down on the tarmac, and the jolt shoved through Simonee’s legs. She stumbled but caught herself this time.
“See, piece of cake,” he said, turning to Mariem—then losing his grin. “Why are you doing that?”
She was holding the bulkhead. Estrella too. Simonee wasn’t holding anything.
“Did you loosen the port strut to account for the missing engine?” Mariem asked.
Carlos turned as the scene in the window tilted; a frenzy of orange-suited figures scattered away from them.
Crunch.
This time the jolt knocked Simonee into Mariem, and gut-checked Carlos with the console.
“Right,” Carlos wheezed. He twisted some dials, tapped the controls, and grabbed the console. “No problem—just loosen the port strut, pop the starboard thruster and—”
“Are you nuts!” Mariem reached but it was too late. The ship rocked again, sending her flat on the deck. The workers outside waved frantically in the view port, but Carlos was too busy laughing.
Mariem was fine, though—Simonee broke her fall.
“Asshole!” Mariem barked as she stood and helped Simonee to her feet. “You okay, hon?”
She nodded. “I’m… You…” She breathed. “You really need a shower.”
Estrella nodded at the window. “Dad, you’re upsetting the locals.”
They’d stopped waving at this point and resorted to other communicative gestures. Carlos shrugged and waved them off.
Mariem tugged her coveralls around the waist and marched off the bridge while glaring at Carlos.
“She,” Estrella said, strutting off the bridge. “Is going to murder you, you know that right?”
“I’ve learned to sleep with one eye open,” Carlos grumbled.
He tapped away at the console and started humming, tapping his foot, shaking his hips and—
Simonee cleared her throat.
He jumped, turned. “Shit, why are you still here?”
“What happens now?” she asked.
“Oh, uh. Well, first we go through fumigation, where we’ll meet up with my friend Apa—”
Simonee beamed. “You know Apa Mann?”
His eyes narrowed. “I know Apa; how do you know Apa... oh, right he—”
“Bastien told me.” She stepped closer. “Can you... I really need to talk to him.”
He raised an eyebrow. “About?”
“His sanctuary... for constructs—I need to go there.” She swallowed. “I need to meet Molly.”
Carlos leaned back from her. “Esta bien, nena... pero, who’s Molly?”
New to Simonee’s story? The Cannibal of Cloud Ball 9 is Book Two of The Girl with the Cybernetic Eye. Book One—The Ice Princess of Enceladus Station—is complete and free to read on Substack here. Or get the eBook here for a convenience fee that supports the author.
Love the crew dynamics in this one! Good job!
Ooooooh finally some action to wake our characters up!