Page 118 of Homebound
“What’s our plan?” she cautiously asked Simon.
He let the material drop from his fingers and looked up at her from his crouching position.
“Very simple. To keep repairing the ship until it works.”
???
It took them over two weeks to upholster the inside of Butan with the prized insulation. It would have been faster could they work openly during the day, but being a fugitive presented Simon with its own set of unique challenges. Subterfuge was key.
So many things required preparation for space travel that Gemma’s head felt like bursting from holding in all the details. As they worked, Simon took to giving her a crash course in Spaceship Engineering 101 in a valiant but largely wasted attempt to make a space cadet out of her. He even showed her how to operate the thing, which she fervently hoped she would never be required to actually do.
“You make it sound like I may be flying somewhere by myself,” she told him. “It ain’t happening, you know. If you aren’t going, I’m not going. What’s the point of my learning how to steer the ship?”
“To anticipate the unexpected,” he repeated with infinite patience. They’d had a similar conversation at least a dozen times. “If I am incapacitated, you will know what to do.”
“If you get incapacitated up there, alien, our mission will go caput.”
“Precisely. What if I get rampant diarrhea? You’ll have to take the wheel.”
“Rix can have diarrhea?”
“Everyone can have diarrhea. It’s a universal affliction.”
He thought of everything: of weapons and spare parts, of backup oxygen and food supplies. They discussed their flight plan over and over again. Simon could only guess how long it might take them to come into contact with a Rix spaceship. If not Rix, then any friendly freighter would do, even though only a handful of alien races were considered friendly by Rix. Worst case scenario, they would send out a distress signal to any ship they manage to come across and hope for the best.
Simon wanted them to be stocked up for a year.
A full year in space. Inside the derelict Butan. It seemed beyond a dreadfully long time. Gemma only hoped the ship wouldn't become their coffin.
She helped move the preparations along by scavenging around the junkyard for anything Simon tasked her with finding. With money appropriated from Tana-Tana’s safe, she ventured out to the market and brought back things like non-perishable food, containers to store water, first aid supplies, straps for securing items in zero gravity, and table games. Simon had given her an unreadable look, but she wanted those games. They took some of the anxiety away and made her feel like a kid going on a road trip.
She enjoyed working alongside Simon to make their dream a reality. Thinking beyond getting airborne frightened her. Beyond that, there was nothing but questions without answers, but she chased them away, preferring to live in the present. One day at a time.
“I’m just saying,” Gemma observed while taking a short break from dragging aside loads of bent and corroded metal, “but all the ships I know take off from a designated launch pad.”
“Can’t get to one. Have to jump from here,” Simon responded curtly from somewhere behind Butan. Before the ship attempted any kind of takeoff, it had to be straightened from its sideways position. Simon was working to loop some chains around the remnants of a turret that stuck up a short distance away. He planned to use the tower as a lever to haul Butan up.
Gemma looked around. It was dark now, but she knew very well what their environs looked like in the light of day.
“These are serious dumping grounds. It’s not safe to walk around, much less use this area for an airfield. I mean, the ground is bumpy. It’s littered with hazardous materials.”
“I thought you weren’t an expert in space travel,” Simon teased.
“I don’t live under a rock,” Gemma said, a little defensively. “At least I didn’t use to. I know the basics, like everybody else. And when my brother was alive, he told me stories about the ships.”
“That’s right, I remember. Your brother flew.” Simon emerged, a dark, rough-looking shape dragging a massive chain that rattled. It hit her anew how strong he was, even in his self-proclaimed weakened state. “He was killed in the invasion.”
She nodded. As usual, remembering Foy made her heart warm and tight. Warm with love that lingered, tight from the pain of his loss.
“My brother was one of the most capable men I’ve ever known. I wish he were here now. Oh, Simon, if only he could be here! He was smart and he was strong. I’m but a pale replica.”
His shape abruptly stopped and the chain rattling ceased. “Never say that again. You aren’t a replica.”
“I feel inadequate.”
“I didn’t know your brother,” he loomed over her, his face obscured, his eyes glittering with dark light. “He may have been able to earn my respect, but he wouldn't have been precious to me.”
“I only wish I could help you the way Foy could have,” she said quietly.
