Lifeline

Chapter 41

AGUINALDO—Day 44

Big Brother Moving Company.

It was precisely what Luis Sandovaal felt like as he prepared for the trip to Orbitech 1. This would not be just a desperate test flight, as Ramis had made. In his own typical style, Sandovaal would make this a grand procession.

He ran one hand through his shock of white hair, making it stand straight up, then surveyed all the extra baggage they would need to ensure their return, plus Ramis’s. Magsaysay had insisted on that part. It had been the only way Magsaysay would even consider allowing Sandovaal to go; even then, the dato was reluctant.

Dobo had just returned from Mass, and Sandovaal put him to work. Since finding out he would be making the journey to L-5 with Sandovaal, Dobo had attended Mass twice a day. Sandovaal couldn’t understand his assistant’s actions—they had even less time to waste than usual.

Sandovaal squinted at the tanks nurturing the sail-creature embryos. The air smelled raw and wet, but Sandovaal did not notice. The thirty-six embryos nestled in the quiet sanctuary of one of the glass-enclosed wall-kelp alcoves were their only hope of returning from Orbitech 1. Sandovaal had no way of knowing how well the Americans had cared for the tiny embryos Ramis had brought with him, and the boy wasn’t enough of an expert to tell for himself. But the embryos would take years to reach maturity; Sandovaal was bringing mature nymphs.

He and Dobo would have time to instruct their American counterparts on how to nurture the next generation of sail-creatures and make them available for sails, in case they ever wanted to come to L-4. Magsaysay didn’t think they would.

Behind him, Dobo sloshed about in a vat of nutrient solution. Synthetic rubber boots rode up to his crotch, making him look ridiculous. The bittersweet aroma of the amniotic solution mixed with the rank smell of growing wall-kelp. On the other side of the crystal windows, sunlight poured through, illuminating the alcove like a weird jungle.

Sandovaal had never before considered mass-producing the sail-creatures. In fact, he was new to the entire idea of gearing his work to assembly lines. On Magsaysay’s insistence, Sandovaal had documented all his work and left dozens of assistants marginally trained to follow in his footsteps.

The wall-kelp grew by itself and needed little work, but the sail-creatures were much more complicated. With his tinkering in the lab, Sandovaal could produce one sail-creature embryo per day, at most, by cloning from the viable samples he had on hand. More than 90 percent of the clones died.

Now, though, for the trip to L-5, all the sail-creatures must be the same age when they left the Aguinaldo. Otherwise, it would ruin Sandovaal’s plans for getting back home. He had expanded his operation, finding ways to increase production, to take shortcuts.

Dobo’s feet made a plopping sound as he moved through the vat. It broke Sandovaal’s concentration. He turned and opened his mouth to snap at his assistant but stopped at what he saw.

Dobo was kneeling in the vat, leaning over a pocket of sail-creature embryos. Hands cupped, he delicately directed some of the amniotic fluid into the sac. It would dry sticky on his dark boots.

Memories flooded Sandovaal’s mind. The rice paddies, and the loving care the Filipinos gave to each seedling as they planted the sprouts in the flooded marsh. The Filipino culture was still here, present even in this giant rotating drum in space. And now, for the first time since the War, Sandovaal was certain that the old ways—the important aspects, at least—would still survive. Magsaysay had nothing to fear about that.

He composed himself and slipped from the chamber, leaving Dobo alone. Dobo hummed to himself—probably one of the hymns he had sung at Mass.

The viewport veranda afforded a view of the sail-creatures they would use. They were strung out in a line with their sails oriented at right angles to the sun, like gigantic, wispy butterflies. The creatures seemed to explode in growth, transforming from puttering, clumsy-looking animals into beautiful organic sails. They stretched out their skins to catch every photon within reach. They were relatively small now, but Sandovaal knew that in a short time they would be ready for the trip. The imagined sight made him draw a deep breath—an array of sail-creatures, clustered as a mighty armada of old, carrying Dobo and Sandovaal into new territory.

And if they were successful with their request, they would return with Ramis and enough weavewire to scale their next obstacle: Orbitech 2.