New Year's Eve on Triton- FlashNews- The faculty of the Shoemaker Science Station are dressing the halls all this week for an event that happens once every one hundred and sixty five years. At 4,496 kilometers out, the planet Neptune will complete an orbit of the Sun, and the crew of mankind's furthest outpost yet is marking the occasion in a big way.
"We don't get a chance like this very often," Said researcher Christina Warner. "We haven't done anything like this since we left Earth. It's a once in a lifetime thing so, it might get a little bit crazy around here. We tried to save some provisions, like from the only time we received a shipment of steak so far. We put aside enough for the staff to have one each. I think everybody has a little bit of something or another put away for that special occasion."
Including a potent micro-brew. The local favorite is called Triton Tank-Swill and it packs a mean punch. Station Commander Merrill Weston likes it that way, but he'll have Gardenburgers on the grill with the steaks.
"The station family will be a Neptunian year old tomorrow," He says. "Sure, we landed here eleven Terran years ago, but to have made it this far, is a big step for us." In addition to his degree in Astronomy, he wears the title of station beer-meister, but won't divulge the secret that gives his Triton-brand it's impact. An amateur brewer in addition to his professional degree fields, he did say the ingredients were grown locally.
The party is set to start at the beginning of the station's next orbit around it's host world. The site for the party is going to be in the middle of the station's massive greenhouse, filled with broad-leafed plants just perfect for sucking up Carbon-Dioxide and producing Oxygen.
"Mostly we're scientists," Merril said, looking on as decorations, made from scrap but still beautiful, cut the green sea inside the geodesic atrium with streaks of color. "We're construction workers when they send us new modular units to attach to the main habitat, but we can't forget that we're also human. That means that we're adults sometimes, and kids sometimes, and kids have to play. Being mostly self-sufficient has it's advantages."
When asked how his research was progressing, he had nothing but good things to say about the new Clarity-arrayed telescope installed here.
"What to say about our telescope? Wow, I wouldn't know where to begin. We're getting better shots of the Alpha Centauri system that we are of our own sun, it's like we're right next door. With the technology we've got, it would take us forty years to get there, and with Clarity it's like... like looking in somebody's window. We'll get there someday. I'd like to be around for the fireworks display but I know I did my part."
Done their part they have, and at the turn of the midwatch five rotations from now, the crew of Triton station will throw a party that, for most of them, will only happen once. Happy New Year from Triton.
1st Rotation
"What do you think, Merrill?"
The station commander lowered the hardcopy of the update I had filed, FlashNews those fucks. They never told me what I did to get sent so far from where anything was happening but I still filed my reports once every seven rotations. They were paying my way and the electronic credit transfers kept arriving so I've been here for a while. On the upside, this station is on the leading fringe of exploration and research, there's a story here, I can feel it.
"This pretty well describes what we'll be doing," Weston said. "Yes, it's a festival but it'll be a working festival. We have several research protocols to cover this whole week. I think it'll be fun though, I've got a list of book discussion groups if you want to sign up for one. You're more than welcome to join in, of course. We like to think that we're good hosts."
"I'll be happy to. I hope I don't mess up your research by being a complete dullard when it comes to anything scientific, I just know how to craft words into something that everybody can understand."
Weston laughed, he was a fifty-something NASA colonel who kept fit by spending hours in the exercise module on the treadmill, gut like a steel plate, he could do 350 sit-ups in a row in Triton's weak gravity. He was the big man in charge when it came to station affairs and was a fair botanist. He pressed the talk button on the intercom mounted into his desk.
"Karen, will you come in here please?" Weston said, then he focused his attention on me as he stretched out at his desk. "That's okay, this is one subject that I think everyone is an expert on. Besides, just remember that we'll all be one year old again for a short while, not literally of course, but you can do no wrong when you're a child, it's all about exploration."
"So what sort of protocols will we be testing?" I said. Everything I'd seen so far told me that this station would be the model for any settlements outside the system. The central geodesic greenhouse dome was reinforced by fibro-steel supports thrusting out of an artificial lake, deep enough for swimming and aquaculture. It was heated by natural, geothermal sources and steam it generated spawned floral growth as dense as it was at either tropic on Earth, a spot of paradise in a dark, cold place.
"Yes, Doctor?" The module door rolled open and Weston's personal assistant came in with an electronic assistant, stylus poised over the sensor pad, ready to take notes. Strauss was a stunning example of humanity, a trim 5'7" with shoulder-length Brunette hair and dark cats-eyes. She was the daughter of one of the longer terms stationers and the rumor was that she enjoyed considerable sexual control over than one man. Her feminine type, Jolie Angel, bee-sting lips and a body darkly tanned by the station's lone UV projector. Fitted shorts and grey t-shirts under blue jumpsuits were the standard uniform and she wore hers to slay. Her legs merged smoothly with her firm buttocks and the t-shirt was tied above her midriff, she wore her jumpsuit unzipped to the panty-line and held it open with Velcro tabs. A bellybutton ring flashed from her smooth stomach but more interesting was the engaging way her nipples poked through her bra-material to indent the t-shirt fabric.
"You'll be happy to know that our friend Maxwell has accepted our offer to join in the study starting today."
"Fine, I'll add his name to the pool list," Strauss said curtly and lifted the electronic assistant (EA) to make a note. Her contribution to the team was as information specialist. "It's good to have you on board, Mister Noble, and just in time to, this should make things a little more even. Still, we'll be lucky to put together ten couples, we'll still have a couple triple-groups though."
"It shouldn't effect the outcome of the study," Weston said. "You can fudge the draw for him. We want to make a good impression."
"Of course, Doctor," Strauss said and gave me a once over. Despite several months among the crew of Triton station, I was still being accepted by some. "I think I could find one or two people to look after him, if he behaves himself."
"Oh, I won't be any trouble." I said as she turned on her heel. I watched her ass cheeks shift under the elastic cloth, the cleft of each showed tantilizingly as she exited.
"In answer to your question, we'll be going over the Bingham Fertility Protocol," Weston said and took a pull off of the self-heating cup attached via magnet to his desk. It was filled with a greenish-sludge that I knew to be his latest batch of Triton Tank-Swill. "It was proposed back when we first started settling Mars. Basically, we'll have round-table study-group discussions and workshops. Once we finish at the end of fifth rotation, there'll be a reception in the atrium. Fun stuff, a cookout, swimming, you know."
"What's the first study group covering?" I said. I got a mental picture of a bunch of brainy-types sitting around discussing Proust as Weston leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. He wrinkled his brow with intense concentration on the screen as he tapped on the desk's integral keyboard. "Here we are... the first study-group will cover the complete, unabridged Kama Sutra... the Herrod's translation, I believe."
"The what?" In all honesty, I had never heard of such a thing. It was clearly a title among the hundreds of millions that mankind had stored in electronic form.
"It was an ancient India educational text containing rules for spiritual copulation. It was quite a popular reference until about twenty-fifty until it was replaced by the Sexomicron, which we'll be covering during fourth rotation. There's also the Story of O on second rotation and the complete Joy of Sex series on the third."
"Who?" I said, getting tired of hearing names and titles that ten generations of human-kind had forgotten about.
"These were another two guide-books that were considered advanced for their time," Weston said. "We had to order them in data cube form from Earth but they arrived in plenty of time. You should sign up to lead a workshop, I think there are a few good ones left."
"Sure, just show me the list and I'm in."
"Fine, fine... just one moment here."
A girl came in, none of the stationers carried identification and age was sometimes difficult to tell, but my guess was that the mature, tight-breasted human female with the orange Nomex emergency-suit on was between 18 and 26 Terran years old.
"Maxwell, let me introduce you to my workshop partner, Connie. I believe you've met her parents? They were sitting across from you during chow."
"Of course, the Malone family, I met them over in the industrial district. They seem like good people." I said and Connie looked at me blankly. I knew right away that I'd never play poker with her, but if she aged half as well as her parents did, Connie would be a stunner into her 50's and a professional somebody if she ever went back to Earth, but she would only get to Mars. When only a fertilized embryo, her coding had been altered and Earth was closed to what was being fashionably called "genetic tampering."
She wore her red-hair braided long in a ponytail that hung down to her waist. I could see that the zip-up was hiding curves that were young and strong, an animal bred to compete. She came to attention in front of Weston, the assistant-captain of the station zero-gravity gymnastics team, she practiced daily, now her cheeks wore the red streaks that indicated she'd been crying, her eyes were like Flint, hard but brittle.
"What's wrong, angel? Are you okay? How did phase three go?"
"It hurts, it felt like I got stung by a bee when the piercing needle went through, now my tongue is all swelled up."
"Say hello to Mister Noble." Weston said. She turned my way and I felt a needle go through me, I was impaled on her eyes.
"Please to meet you, Mister Noble." She answered automatically, those same eyes lacked any spark of interest that was more than passing, but her "S's" sounded like "Th" and her "T's" were blunted by a thick tongue having trouble with words.
"I won't think any less of you, there are people all around this system that talk like that and it doesn't go away, let's have a look at it." Weston said. Without hesitation, Connie sank to her knees, sucking on her bottom lip. She closed her eyes and put her head back, then opened her mouth wide. Watching her lips parts was like watching dawn break on the day you'd remember for the rest of your life. "Go on, don't keep us waiting."
