the silent procession of the seven-strong crew, air whirring softly from overhead grilles
the only sound. They came to a section of the corridor where the composite strip of the lower wall angle merged seamlessly
with the hull, revealing an oval patch of the dark blue polyp. Athene stopped before it.
This egg I name
Oenone
,
Iasius
said.
The polyp bulged up at the centre, its apex thinning as it rose, becoming translucent. Red rawness showed beneath it, the
crest of a stem as thick as a human leg which stretched right down into the core of the starship’s body. The tumescent apex
split open, dribbling a thick gelatinous goo onto the corridor floor. Inside, the sphincter muscle at the top of the red stem
dilated, looking remarkably similar to a waiting toothless mouth. The dark tube inside palpitated slowly.
Athene held up the bitek sustentator, a sphere five centimetres in diameter, flesh-purple, maintained at body temperature.
According to the data core on the zero-tau pod it had been kept in, the zygote inside was female; it was also the one Sinon
had fathered. She bent down and pushed it gently into the waiting orifice.
This child I name Syrinx.
The little sustentator globe was ingested with a quiet wet slurp. The sphincter lips closed, and the stem sank back down out
of sight. Sinon patted her shoulder, and they gave each other a proud smile.
They will flourish together,
Iasius
said proudly.
Yes.
Athene walked on. There were another four zygotes left to initiate, and Romulus was growing larger outside.
The Saturn habitats were keening their regret at
Iasius
’s call. Voidhawks throughout the solar system answered with pride and camaraderie; those that weren’t outbound with cargo
abandoned their flights to flock around Romulus in anticipation.
Iasius
curved gently round the non-rotational dock at the northern endcap. With her eyes closed, Athene let the affinity bond image
from the voidhawk’s sensor blisters expand into her mind with superhuman clarity. Her visual reference of the habitat altered
as the endcap loomed large beyond the rim of the starship’s hull. She saw the vast expanse of finely textured red-brown polyp
as an approaching cliff face; one with four concentrically arrayed ledges, as if ripples had raced out from the axis in some
distant time, only to be frozen as they peaked.
The voidhawk chased after the second ledge, two kilometres out from the axis, swooping round to match the habitat’s rotation.
Adamist reaction-drive spaceships didn’t have anything like the manoeuvrability necessary to land on the ledges, and they
were reserved for voidhawks alone.
Iasius
shot in over the edge, seeming to hover above the long rank of mushroomlike docking pedestals which protruded from the floor,
before choosing a vacant one. For all its bulk, it alighted with the delicate grace of a hummingbird.
Athene and Sinon felt the gravity fade down to half a gee as the distortion field dissipated. She watched the big flattyred
crew bus rolling slowly towards the bitek starship, elephant-snout airlock tube held upwards.
Come along, Sinon urged, his mind dark with emotion. He touched her elbow, seeing all too plainly the wish to remain during the last
flight.
She nodded her head reluctantly. “You’re right,” she said out loud.
I’m sorry that doesn’t make it any easier.
She gave him a tired smile and allowed him to lead her out of the lounge. The bus had arrived at the rim of the void-hawk.
Its airlock tube lengthened, sliding over the upper hull surface to reach the crew toroid.
Sinon diverted his attention away from his wife to the flock of voidhawks matching pace with the ledge. There were over seventy
waiting, latecomers rising into view as they left their crews behind on the other ledges. The emotional backwash from the
waiting bitek starships was impossible to filter out, and he could feel his own blood singing in response.
It wasn’t until he
the only sound. They came to a section of the corridor where the composite strip of the lower wall angle merged seamlessly
with the hull, revealing an oval patch of the dark blue polyp. Athene stopped before it.
This egg I name
Oenone
,
Iasius
said.
The polyp bulged up at the centre, its apex thinning as it rose, becoming translucent. Red rawness showed beneath it, the
crest of a stem as thick as a human leg which stretched right down into the core of the starship’s body. The tumescent apex
split open, dribbling a thick gelatinous goo onto the corridor floor. Inside, the sphincter muscle at the top of the red stem
dilated, looking remarkably similar to a waiting toothless mouth. The dark tube inside palpitated slowly.
Athene held up the bitek sustentator, a sphere five centimetres in diameter, flesh-purple, maintained at body temperature.
According to the data core on the zero-tau pod it had been kept in, the zygote inside was female; it was also the one Sinon
had fathered. She bent down and pushed it gently into the waiting orifice.
This child I name Syrinx.
The little sustentator globe was ingested with a quiet wet slurp. The sphincter lips closed, and the stem sank back down out
of sight. Sinon patted her shoulder, and they gave each other a proud smile.
They will flourish together,
Iasius
said proudly.
Yes.
Athene walked on. There were another four zygotes left to initiate, and Romulus was growing larger outside.
The Saturn habitats were keening their regret at
Iasius
’s call. Voidhawks throughout the solar system answered with pride and camaraderie; those that weren’t outbound with cargo
abandoned their flights to flock around Romulus in anticipation.
Iasius
curved gently round the non-rotational dock at the northern endcap. With her eyes closed, Athene let the affinity bond image
from the voidhawk’s sensor blisters expand into her mind with superhuman clarity. Her visual reference of the habitat altered
as the endcap loomed large beyond the rim of the starship’s hull. She saw the vast expanse of finely textured red-brown polyp
as an approaching cliff face; one with four concentrically arrayed ledges, as if ripples had raced out from the axis in some
distant time, only to be frozen as they peaked.
The voidhawk chased after the second ledge, two kilometres out from the axis, swooping round to match the habitat’s rotation.
Adamist reaction-drive spaceships didn’t have anything like the manoeuvrability necessary to land on the ledges, and they
were reserved for voidhawks alone.
Iasius
shot in over the edge, seeming to hover above the long rank of mushroomlike docking pedestals which protruded from the floor,
before choosing a vacant one. For all its bulk, it alighted with the delicate grace of a hummingbird.
Athene and Sinon felt the gravity fade down to half a gee as the distortion field dissipated. She watched the big flattyred
crew bus rolling slowly towards the bitek starship, elephant-snout airlock tube held upwards.
Come along, Sinon urged, his mind dark with emotion. He touched her elbow, seeing all too plainly the wish to remain during the last
flight.
She nodded her head reluctantly. “You’re right,” she said out loud.
I’m sorry that doesn’t make it any easier.
She gave him a tired smile and allowed him to lead her out of the lounge. The bus had arrived at the rim of the void-hawk.
Its airlock tube lengthened, sliding over the upper hull surface to reach the crew toroid.
Sinon diverted his attention away from his wife to the flock of voidhawks matching pace with the ledge. There were over seventy
waiting, latecomers rising into view as they left their crews behind on the other ledges. The emotional backwash from the
waiting bitek starships was impossible to filter out, and he could feel his own blood singing in response.
It wasn’t until he
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