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Cora didn’t catch the rest. She was already out in the hallway, making a call on her phone. “Hey, Red, it’s Cora, I need a contact number—”
Interstitial
To: Cora Marten [[email protected]]
From: Sylvia Larson [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Urgent help needed - Sucker’s Luck
Dear Cora,
I’m glad Red put you in touch with me, and I sincerely wish it were under better circumstances. I can only imagine what you must be going through right now.
Given that unauthorized spaceflight groups are secretive and typically operate in nonpublic channels, it would be difficult to pin down the exact details of the group your sister fell in with. Our remote monitoring program is primarily intended to track debris trajectories originating from Sucker’s Luck, not the associated human activity. I’m afraid I can’t add anything to the little you already know about your sister’s contacts.
I am so sorry to give you this information so bluntly: We have never detected a successful orbital launch from Sucker’s Luck. It has been eight months since our last conclusive detection of a failed launch. What we have detected recently, however, are measurements consistent with some sort of large, ground-level fuel explosion, approximately two weeks ago. Any details as to who was involved or exactly what happened are beyond our ability to speculate on. I will note that equipment failures such as these are common with the fuel tank designs you forwarded along. (If we may keep these on file to help improve our detection capabilities in the future, that would be hugely appreciated.)
Again, I am truly sorry that I do not have better news to report. Please accept my condolences during this difficult time. If you have any other questions for me, don’t hesitate to ask.
Kind regards,
Sylvia Larson
Deputy Program Director
Center for Orbital Traffic Management
University of Fortune
Office Hours: 09:00–18:00 M–F
Raft 3, Main Campus, MC023
Chapter 50 Signy, Fortune
It didn’t matter that Signy’s apartment was too small for two. There was a bed that would hold them both, and in that moment, that was enough. They lay clothed and quiet on top of the covers, the window above bringing in the sickly light of an ashy afternoon. Cora rested her head on Signy’s stomach. Signy ran her fingers through Cora’s hair, over and over. She would do this all day, if Cora needed it. They could talk, or not talk, or whatever was called for.
“What if she’s still out there and I give up too early?” Cora said to the ceiling.
Signy chose her words carefully, carefully. “I don’t think anyone could ever accuse you of giving up on her.”
“But what if—” Cora did not finish the sentence. Then again, maybe she didn’t need to. Maybe what if said it all.
Watching Cora hope was almost unbearable. Because no, you couldn’t assemble a rocket in three weeks, and sure, these jackasses must have at least attempted some kind of shelter, so, yes, possibly, what if. But nobody ever came back from Sucker’s Luck. No one ever had. Why anyone ever went out there was beyond Signy’s ability to fathom. Desperation, she understood. She had made a lot of things for desperate people. But the things she’d made helped, inarguably so. Why anyone would convince themself that running headlong off a cliff would go differently for them than it had for everyone prior, and then go to the trouble of convincing other people of the same—that, Signy could not wrap her head around. If the person who had been swayed by such patent nonsense hadn’t been Cora’s sister, Signy would not have had anything charitable to say about a choice this poorly considered.
But this was Cora’s sister, and adding insult to injury was also unthinkable.
Signy played with the short locks of hair sprouting up through the gaps between her fingers. Cora needed to wash her hair. She needed a shower, and she needed to change her clothes. Signy did not mind a body in its natural state, but she was quietly noting the extent to which Cora’s personal habits were slipping. A shower later that day would be necessary—not primarily for the sake of hygiene, yet, but to make sure Cora didn’t fall off an internal kind of cliff. If Cora needed Signy’s help in getting clean, Signy was there for it. She didn’t mind one bit if her neighbors saw her washing her girlfriend’s hair.
Ash built up on the windowpane; blue lights glowed on the street outside. “Did she take your last name, when you adopted her?” Signy asked. “Or did you take hers?”
“Neither,” Cora said. “We chose it together.”
“Why?”
Cora inhaled deeply through her nose, her gaze drifting. “There’s this mural in the movie room at Heartwise—it’s still there. A forest full of animals. I don’t think they’re animals that even live in the same places on Earth—like, there’s an elephant, but also a moose. They don’t live together, right?”
“I don’t know,” Signy said. She didn’t know much about fauna unless it was relevant to flora, and even then, not in as much detail.
