Glass Walls

The Mataatua Orbital Aquarium had all the makings of a tourist trap: false facades meant to look like an underwater alien temple, a casino right next door, and high-end shopping all around it. But it had, over the years, grown into something more, something even Caroline Dorsey had to appreciate.

“The MOA has become the foremost resource for Mataatuan wildlife rescue and rehabilitation,” the docent said as he led their timed entry party into the massive foyer that doubled as a natural history museum. “All of our reptilian and mammalian animals are rescues, so do not be alarmed if you see signs of injury – they are all perfectly healthy now, just unable to compete in the wild. Many of our larger fish are also in that company, including the rainbow dragons and our giant sea-blimps.”

Her girlfriend’s attention was rapt, but Caroline let hers wander, her gaze drifting upward toward the giant leviathan skeleton stretched out some three stories above them. Its body, the gleaming plaque said, was twice the size of Earth’s blue whale. It had teeth nearly half the size of the average person, and each of its five arms ran the length of a small starship.

“And that’s just average size,” Jo said, hand catching hers and interlacing their fingers. Caroline’s wrist brushed the heavy worn leather sleeve of Jo’s ancient AstroCorps flight jacket. She hated that it had been making more of an appearance over the last few months. She gave a gentle squeeze of Jo’s hand, but then dropped the hold, folding her arms against the chill of the echoing room.

“Where do we start?”

Jo looked a little hurt as she pulled the map of the MOA up on her Gadget. “There’s a talk in ninety minutes at the main auditorium. We should wander the aquarium until then. This way.”

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They’d been floating past one another for days.

It was no one’s fault. It wasn’t even surprising as they faced the close of their fourth Touchstone Project expedition. The Mataatua jump point was their last stop. Tomorrow, the team would go their separate ways: Jo’s AstroCorps military crew to their next duty rotation, wherever that may be, and Caroline’s civilian scientists back to their labs and universities. Everything they’d accomplished together over the last year was destined to become footnotes on academic papers to be presented at conferences accompanied by mediocre wine and rubber food. Assuming it didn’t end up classified.

To make matters worse, getting a fifth expedition would be a fight. Most of the board didn’t even understand their goals, so their AstroCorps patron, Hector Santos, would have to collect extra on favors. And even Hector could run low on those.

Jo had been filling her captain role more strictly as the expedition ended, occupied in her command cabin so late that Caroline didn’t even hear her come in, and she woke up cranky, wrapping herself in silence. An argument was coming. She felt Jo preparing for a fight. Caroline just couldn’t decide what about.

“Josephine Takama, you are not allowed to be mad at me right now,” Caroline finally found herself saying over breakfast that morning when she couldn’t take the silent treatment any longer.

Was it the most subtle approach? No. Caroline was a renowned expert in human behavior. She knew it was the wrong thing to say and had a dozen better conversational entry points than that one all teed up in her brain. But for some reason, the statement came out. Maybe it was because it was 0800 local time, and she was already exhausted.

She expected any number of retorts, all of which would probably have been reasonable. Continued silence would also have been fair enough, or a clipped I’ll see you after shift. “We should go to the aquarium today” wasn’t on the anticipated list.

“I’ve been through this station how many times and never gone,” Jo said, her gaze raising to meet Caroline’s across the table as she took a bite of her berries and overnight oats. “Who knows when we’ll get the chance to come back, and it’s supposed to be incredible.”

“Jo. No,” Caroline said.

“It’s an aquarium. Who doesn’t like an aquarium?”

“Me,” Caroline said. “And this one is on a space station – which, if you think about it, is just a human aquarium – and they’ve filled it with water and creepy-ass fish. I don’t love the whole disaster potential, plus, the resource cost makes no sense. There’s a perfectly good water planet just a beanstalk ride away.”

“Caroline. Come with me.”

“Why?”

“Because if we go together, it feels like a break. I need one. Hector is fighting for our future as we speak. He’s supposed to call later with the result, and whichever way it goes, I don’t have it in me to deal with paperwork while I wait. I want one more normal day.”

“You really don’t think we’re coming back out here, do you?” Caroline asked.

Jo paused a moment, her mouth tightening into a colorless line for a moment; Caroline knew the look of her girlfriend holding onto something heavy she didn’t want to articulate.

“All I know is I’m doing the best I can. Hector is, too.”

“Is he?”

“How can you question that?”

“I’m not,” Caroline said, though it was a lie. High Admiral Hector Santos – Jo’s mentor, one of the most powerful people in the galaxy – was kind and easy to like and one hundred percent had his own agenda. Sometimes it aligned with theirs in a beneficial way, and sometimes he was just very good at convincing Jo that it did. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing.”

“Jo.”

“It’s not something to talk about right now. Let’s go to the aquarium. Let’s wait it out there.”

“When you tell me what you’re worked up about.”

Her girlfriend looked at her helplessly, and Caroline almost felt bad for pushing, though dread pulsed through her. She knew Jo had been struggling. Their project, their little social survey, it was the sort of thing that Jo wanted to be satisfied doing, and maybe even was at times, but Caroline worried it wasn’t enough.

“Please, Carrie. Help distract me.”

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The MOA was gigantic. It made up half of one whole arm of Mataatua colony’s jump point station. According to the docent, it contained 27 million gallons of water from the ocean planet below. It had 137 different marine habitats represented, showcasing nearly 700 species of fish, crustaceans, reptiles and mammals – or at least, very close alien proxies.

The exhibits started with the equatorial islands, the only substantial land on the planet. The shoreline was represented first: fine white-gold sand and shallow tanks that housed small reptilian creatures and crustaceans that tourists peered at through plex dividers, heads above the waterline. It smelled salty and sweet, with the underlay of fish and wet bark from decorative trees Caroline didn’t recognize. It was warm. There were sounds of birds and surf piped in.

After a casual wander, a docent in a yellow and blue vest smiled and ushered them onto a smooth conveyor to begin the venture below the waves, and Jo offered her arm as they stepped on. Caroline took it despite wanting to stay annoyed and despite not wanting to touch that jacket.

The shallows teamed with rays and awkward six-legged sea turtles and giant manatees the size of shuttlecraft that drifted between stalks of thick underwater forests – something like kelp, but vibrant shades of deep turquoise and pinks, some stalks even glittering like gold. All the creatures had proper Mataatuan phylum and classification, but Caroline couldn’t help defaulting to their Earth analogs. To be fair, they looked so similar – and the aquarium guide on the Gadget system did the same.

The sounds of birds and surf shifted away, slowly replaced with the quiet echoes of marine life humming against the barely-there hint of music. The atmosphere grew more chilled as they were surrounded by those millions of gallons of water held back by thick plex and cooled to the right temperate for the creatures, but the conveyor tube was missing the humidity and smell of damp she associated with aquariums. Maybe it was the space station of it all, the recyclers drying it out and keeping the smells at bay. And, there was no external sea air to invade and add to the atmosphere.

Every fifty meters or so were step-offs into large plex bubbles that allowed visitors to pause and take video or photos, or just meditate as the creatures swam quietly past. Her girlfriend utilized each one, sometimes dodging children in the process, the look of joy on her face only tempered when Caroline caught her anxiously checking the Gadget interface at her wrist, waiting for that call from Hector. Jo’s expression would betray her, then, looking sad… and something else.

It took until they exited the reef exhibits and began to transition into the depths of Mataatua’s sunlight zone before Caroline was able to peg what it was.

Guilt.

“Why have you been wearing your flight jacket?” she found herself asking.

No response. Silence. Jo had looked away, out into the water.

A shimmering blue and golden fish-like creature about the length of an arm was following them. Occasionally it would move such that it showed off scars along its belly and one side. One of its fins was misshapen. A rescue: flawed, but still beautiful, and the simulated sunlight from through the water would catch its scales to glitter against the thick plex. Every now and then Caroline swore that it would smile, showing off multiple whole sets of teeth.

“You’re going back to the Corps, aren’t you?” Caroline asked, keeping her voice low.

“I’ve never left it.”

“You know what I mean. After this expedition closes, you want to go back to command.”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Jo admitted. She reached out and traced her finger along the plex, their fishy interloper mouthing at it from the other side just as an alert popped up on the surface not to touch. Jo snapped her hand away and pink flushed across her pale cheeks at the rebuke.

“You’d make that choice without me?”

“I haven’t made any choice, it’s just something I’ve been considering.”

“I can’t come with you to a military ship,” Caroline pointed out. “And Hector will try to get your full rank reinstated. You know he will.”

“Maybe. I don’t know that I’d want it.”

“I can’t believe you’re even considering it.”

“You knew this was a possibility. This is who I am.”

“No,” Caroline stated, shaking her head. “When we started this, you swore you were done with the military Corps. You’re a scientist. A teacher. Seven years, Jo. That’s who I’ve thought you were. The military side of the Corps? It’s your past. It’s only ever hurt you. And it’s always just been a means to an end. Or did you lie to me?”

“See, this is why I’ve been putting it off.” Jo shook her head, keeping her voice very low as she looked around the area, conscious of the other people, of the kids, especially as they came up on the observation room marking the transition between sections. “There’s no reason to argue over something I haven’t begun to decide on. I don’t even know if it’s possible.”

Caroline pinched the leather of the jacket sleeve and held it away from Jo’s arm. The metallic embroidery of the AstroCrops crest patch on the shoulder caught the dim light from the tanks.

“When we started, this jacket? Was sealed in a bag in the back of the closet. It took years for you to look at it again. When it came out, it was just to open doors for the project, for our quiet little social survey.” Caroline felt her voice quiver. “You promised me and yourself that it was to get our foot in, to show that we could command a ship because we had this. This was for them. It was always just for them. Why have you been wearing it for you?”

Jo stilled at that, every muscle in her body going taunt. She shook her head again, then stepped away and into the dark lighting of the round observation room.

The room was wide, a good fifteen meters in diameter with walls of windows looking out into the water, and benches set up for quiet reflection and observation. Some kids from a school group ran around, banging themselves up against the plex and startling passing fish as their impacts sent up warnings to please don’t tap at the animals. A docent intervened, along with a pair of teachers, and ushered the kids to the conveyor.

Caroline gave herself space to breathe away the fury and she drifted from window to window, reading pop-ups on her Gadget display, before then picking up the conveyor again and passing under the arch announcing the shark tanks. Not that the creatures were actually sharks – there were important biological differences that the guidebook made sure to point out – but they were close enough.

She found her girlfriend some ten minutes later, hidden in shadows as she leaned forward against the railing in one of the bubbles, her gaze fixed on a drifting creature that had to be nearly twenty feet long; smaller fish hugged close to it. It had tendrils hanging from its mouth, part catfish and part eldritch horror, and its belly shimmered silver while its top was a gleaming dark teal green. It too was sliced through with scars, an indentation at one side and one of its tendrils shorter than the others.

“The jacket is part of me.” Jo’s voice was a whisper. “I didn’t want it to be, for a while, but it is. And if we don’t get renewed, Carrie, if our project can’t come back, then teaching isn’t enough. I know you don’t understand, but the Corps makes me feel useful. I need that.”

Caroline was angry. She wanted to fight, to shout, to yell and cry. It welled up in her throat and behind her eyes: anger at the situation fusing with the anger that Jo had all but denied her that by letting it come to light here, in the dark, among the songs of the deep and the delighted shrieks of children. Jo always did this: made plans Caroline didn’t notice until she was in the middle of them.

She felt like she was losing. All the time she’d put in to get Jo back on her feet. All the healing and molding. All the effort. It felt like it didn’t matter. If you love it let it go and all that bullshit, it wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right and this couldn’t just be decided.

Drawing a breath, she placed a hand on Jo’s forearm.

“I don’t know what to say,” Caroline admitted. “You don’t have the right to turn my life upside down. You’re not the only one unsteady.”

“I know.”

“I love you. I understand you more than you think. You have to give me credit. You never do.”

“Of course I do,” Jo said.

“You don’t.” Caroline felt the anger bite sharply at her tone. “And you have to let me get angry. You don’t get to manage me like this.”

“I’m sorry if that’s what I’m doing. I just wanted a little more time. Carrie, I love you. But I’m not like these creatures. I can’t be kept behind glass just because I’m a little broken.”

“This was your idea too.”

“I know. And I’ve loved it. But if it’s over?”

“We can find private funding. We can do something else. We don’t have to sit on planet, Jo. We don’t have to be trapped in walls. It’s not either-or.”

“Maybe.”

The call buzzed Jo’s Gadget interface, interrupting. Caroline could feel it under the sleeve of that wretched jacket, and Jo pulled her arm away to push back the cuff. Hector read the ID projected onto her skin. Caroline’s heart jumped into her throat and every muscle in Jo’s face tightened.

The call: their reprieve or their catalyst.

“I have to take this,” Jo said.

“No matter what he says, we talk. This can’t just be washed away.”

Jo’s mouth pulled into a line as she nodded, then touched at her ear, initializing the communications implant there. Caroline wanted to listen, but she stepped out of the bubble and pressed past a gaggle of children toward the shark tank observation round. A school of glittering turquoise fish with ethereal fins that looked like butterfly wings fluttered and danced in the currents, interrupted occasionally by a larger version of the blue and golden creature from before.

Caroline wasn’t sure how long she stood there, drifting in silence, but then she felt the hand at her back with soft, familiar, comforting fingertips brushing between her shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter. We no longer have an expedition,” Jo murmured, and when Caroline turned, her dark brown eyes glittered with a hint of tears as the water around them cast reflections upon her features. A smile broke her lips. “We have a mission. Carrie. He said continuing.”

“What does that mean?”

“Touchstone is ours indefinitely. No strings attached.”

Then Jo kissed her in the midst of alien sharks, the sounds of the deep echoing around them, and relief began to evaporate the chill as the meaning sunk in and the uncertainty began to wash away. They’d be free, together, out in the universe: there were no walls, glass or otherwise, within the sea of stars.