The Black Mare

“Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.” The man who sat on the shuttle’s passenger bench crossed his legs. He slouched in the seat, creasing slightly his navy spacesuit. His yellow shoulder pads, complete with the Cross badge of the First Class Prison Frigate, The Rikers, reflected the pulsating lights of the transport shuttle. He watched Ericelda Serna pull on the straps of her seat.

“Nobody cares too,” she replied as she struggled to loosen the straps before giving up.

Ericelda’s legs felt numb in her tight spacesuit. Strapped into the seat of The Rikers' transport shuttle - her parole officer in the seat across - she reached through the zipper pocket of her space suit to pull out an old photograph to do her little ritual before spaceflight and to shut him up. She noticed her hand trembling softly as she looked at the little girl in the photo. A little brown girl with bangs sat by an older child whose face had been scratched out.

She took a deep breath which stilled her hand. When she exhaled her visor fogged up and the tension slowly washed out of her nerves. She didn't even mind the stale stink of air in her suit. She had smelled worse and bore it no mind back on Luna. She only felt contempt for the parole officer's heavy breathing coming through the comms channel. Just one more job and she would be free of PO Jennings and his lectures on morality. She was nearly done with the current phase of her negotiated sentence - state-contracted labor. She placed the photo back into her front pocket and rested her head against the seat's torn cushion.

"Shuttle bay doors retracting. Shuttle drop in t-minus sixty seconds." announced The Rikers's A.I.

Jennings grunted and yawned loudly into the open comms channel. Ericelda shook her head desperately yearning for a mute button.

"Strapped in right, Serna?" Jennings chided.

She nodded softly, struggling to keep her cool.

"You know, after this one, we may never see each other again." She knew he was smirking just by the way he said it over the comms.

Jennings was right - after this gig, Ericelda would have enough labor credits to petition Lunar Authority for a family transfer to Earth. She would have to break her ass for the contractor - be on her best behavior - put in a few extra hours for the next few months. She knew she could endure the humiliation of her sentence long enough to get back home. The lights in the shuttle flashed red.

"Launch in five...four...three..." She gripped onto her seat's armrest and waited for the butterflies in her stomach to die. The shuttle shook violently before the hatch released the shuttle straight down. The inside of the cabin flooded with light, washing the darkness out as it cleared the bay. Saturn's swirling surface filled the shuttle's interior a mustard shade. In the corner of the small porthole window, an orange ball grew larger in the frame - Titan. The bigger the moon grew, the more Ericelda dug her fingers into the armrest.

"You told me we were going to Ganymede. That the job would be transporting ice from the belt." She glared at Jennings. Saturn's moons had a reputation.

"Plans changed, Loon. Besides, Pearl is a great corporation - you'll acclimate quickly."

The shuttle slowed its approach as it veered to Titan's north pole where a large cylindrical space rig spun on the edge between its atmosphere and outer space. Its dull gray-colored outer plating was topped by a gold chrome cap with massive solar panels - like a tiger lily on a dying stem - that cast shadows a quarter of the way down its body. Down its side was a name painted in red block letters with white-painted trim, blue-tinted tones, and a film of space dust an inch thick. The shuttle’s descent slowed down to the space rig’s midsection where the hatch bay entrance would connect with the shuttle's door. There it linked with the space rig’s hatch and released a loud hiss that slowly whimpered out. Ericelda took a deep breath.

"Is the contract the same? Or did that change too?" Ericelda unbuckled herself from the seat. "Is it still a five-month contract?"

Jennings stood from his seat ignoring her.

"Jennings, what the -"

"Listen," his voice suddenly stern, "if you play nice and don't make me look bad in front of the temp crew, I'll talk to Pearl's handler, make sure you're out in less than five months." Ericelda was surprised by Jenning's sudden collaboration. He was acting strange, she thought. Usually, he tormented her, called her a "Looney Rebel", an epithet for the rebels in the civil war she played no small role in. But he had been strangely quiet since The Rikers’ last transmission. She would do as he asked. She didn't have any choice.

The shuttle door creaked open letting Ericelda and Jennings out into the narrow corridor that ended at a tall hatch. They made their way down the corridor arriving just as the hatch slid open. Ericelda was struck by the tall thin man and the bird-shaped drone that hovered slightly above his head. He waved meekly at them.

"My name is Bernard Lovell, current Crusoe operator," he pointed to the drone, "and this is Claire." The drone's wings glimmered with a light of recognition. "Welcome to the Crusoe."

Lovell guided them through the Crusoe's main cabin where they crossed a large door taped up with several strips of yellow and red tape which Ericelda found strange. She noticed Jennings had stopped to glance through the door’s window and caught the man’s glance.

"Our last extraction had several exotic samples. We've enacted some safety protocols to avoid contamination."

Jennings's eyes went wide, he stepped away from the door which gave Ericelda a bit of joy. She quite enjoyed Jennings faltering authority here.

"Do you have the proper equipment to...?"

"We're fully equipped, PO Jennings," Lovell said. He continued walking them to the elevator but Jennings refused to move.

"You'll have to give me all of the analysis you've gathered so far. The Warden must protect public safety," Jennings pointed at the yellow strips of tape. Lovell cocked an eyebrow at the bird drone.

"This is a class eight operation with its own charter of governance granted to Pearl Corporation by the Terran Planetary Management Council,” the voice emanated from everywhere startling Ericelda, “the Warden has no right to even make such requests." Its deep register maintained a feminine inflection. Ericelda wondered why Pearl would choose such an off-putting vocal track for the Crusoe's Artificial Intelligence.

"What is your Parole Officer number?" Clair asked again causing Ericelda to shudder. Lovell looked on nonplussed.

"No reason.” Jennings dropped his hands, “I recognize your charter."

"Let us continue then, you can debrief with Clair in the Command square. I'll take you..." Lovell pointed at her with a quizzical face.

"Ericelda Serna, Avionics engineer trained on Luna. You can call me Celda," she managed a smile on her face. Lovell turned to the bird drone, ignoring her effort.

"I’ll take Serna to her cabin.” What a rude ass, she thought. Operators had enough respect for the job to not treat each other dismissively. “Operators go by last names here," Lovell shrugged, "it's Pearl protocol.” He must have noticed her sour expression but that didn’t stop her from rolling her eyes at nobody in particular.

The elevator rose and stopped at the Crew's Quarters level where Lovell and Serna stepped out onto the floor without so much as a word to Jennings or Clair. Command Square was a couple of levels further down, Claire was saying as the elevator door began closing but Jennings stepped his foot over the sensor.

"Not even a goodbye to your old PO, Celda? This might be the last time we talk." She thought he almost sounded sincere but when she turned around she buried that possibility.

"Didn't you hear? My name is Serna now." She took a final long look at Jennings's pale face before turning back to follow Lovell. Back on Luna, she had vowed never to forget the faces of her oppressors. Little things to keep her fire lit, and who knows what this shitshow of a future held for her. Suddenly, she remembered his promise to negotiate a shorter contract and turned back to Jennings.

"You'll...be missed! PO Jennings." Jennings seemed taken aback by her abrupt confession. Serna scrambled her mind looking for pleasantries. "It was an honor, sir. To be guided by your morally sound leadership." Ashamed with herself, she did everything she could to avoid eye contact but had no idea how to end the interaction. Then it came to her. She bowed and quickly whispered into the comms channel, "safe travels, PO Jennings". She turned around without looking at her Parole Officer of seven years.

"Safe travels, Serna," he replied before stepping back into the elevator.

His voice echoed in her ear. As the elevator door closed, she gently took off her helmet and caught her face in the reflection of the visor. She could see the purple bags under the eyes she refused to make eye contact with - she pursed her lips in slight contempt and dragged her fingers through the short hair on the sides of her scalp several times. She hated herself for being nice to Jennings but hating herself was nothing new.

"Serna?" She dropped her hand and turned to Lovell who prompted her to follow him down the gray-colored corridor of the Crews Quarters.

"Right." She picked up her pace to meet him.

"You know you could've done that when you stepped out of the shuttle."

"Done what?" she asked.

"Taken off your helmet."

"Jennings likes to keep a direct line of communication."

Lovell's forehead wrinkled in confusion, "For what?"

"He likes to think of himself as a life coach, he has these memorized sayings he repeats to his parolees. Very patronizing."

Lovell chuckled.

"It's not that bad once you tune him out. Even if you don’t, something about his catchphrases calms me."

"He definitely has the face to be a radio star" Lovell interjected.

Serna smiled quickly. "As true as that is, he sort of reminds me of my father." Lovell kept quiet as their steps on the metal floor echoed softly.

They had arrived at a fork in the corridor with two different color-coded paths.

"These are the private quarters." Lovell pointed left down the purple corridor, "this is me. You're down the green corridor. There's a bathroom, room, and lounge area. The cafeteria is up one floor and your lounge has a staircase directly connected to it." Serna nodded and she tried to look down the purple hall.

"Purple is for the senior operators and greens is for, well, green operators like you. Fresh on the job. You'll eventually take my quarters as soon as I ship out."

"When will that be?"

"In a couple of months," Lovell shook his head as he responded. "Not soon enough, if you ask me." Serna didn't need to. She empathized with Lovell - though the Crusoe was a newer model space rig, not those claustrophobic space coffins of the last century where the sterile gray corridors, lack of portholes, and white light everywhere could drive you insane, he was still the only solitary soul on it. There was a reason that even The Rikers banned solitary confinement. Lovell shrugged.

"When does training start?" Serna asked. Lovell chuckled again.

"Eager, are you?"

"Just trying to speed everything up, if I can." Lovell reached into the pocket of his jumpsuit and pulled out a small badge. "The next twelve hours are yours to rest. Training will start at 0900 military time," he cocked an eyebrow at Serna, testing her.

"I'm very familiar," she said dismissively. Lovell smiled and handed her the badge.

"Keep this on you - it's coded to your signature and will let you into most of the levels on the Crusoe. You'll need it to get to the simulcast deck."

"Simulcast?" Serna had never heard the term before, "is that the simulation room?"

Lovell looked confused."Your PO didn’t tell you anything about the Crusoe’s mission?" He asked the question almost cautiously. Serna shook her head.

"Rikers likes to keep parolees in the dark about assignments. Gives them more control," she said as she shook her head.

Lovell's face flashed a sense of concern followed by a quick whistle.

"Well, make sure you get some rest then. Simulcasting is not easy on the body but if you're not ready for it up here," he tapped his fingers to his temple, "you won't make it through these seven months."

"Seven months!?" her face twisted incredulously.

"The standard contract that Pearl gives to all operators," Lovell responded, "mapping and testing samples of the Black Mare requires a lengthy process." Serna shook her head in despair and stared at the floor. Lovell could see her despair morph into anger.

"But around the end of it - when you're training the new operator, the work is less taxing. There’s a lot of testing done in the labs where you'll eventually be."

Lovell's efforts to placate Serna only frustrated her.

"Whatever," she sighed, "just another job."

"Right," nodded Lovell, "it'll go by faster than you think." He placed his arm on her shoulder. Serna clapped her hand over his, it wasn’t his fault after all. She walked down the green corridor to her quarters.

Her room is a box with a large window. The bed was opposite the window and the bathroom door and shower were in the other corner of the room. It was a little more spacious than other cabins she'd been in, but the view was eye-catching. Serna walked over to the desk against the window and placed her helmet on the chair. She couldn't take her eyes off the swirling clouds on Saturn's surface, or the perfect rings that encircled the gas giant. She could see several of its moons with her naked eye. Directly above, she could see the underside of The Rikers as it circled the Crusoe.

A spurt of dust shook off a section of the space rig above the level. She watched as the shuttle she and Jennings traveled down detached from the Crusoe. The boosters below the shuttle lit a violet-blue, propelling it and Jennings back up to The Rikers. Her gaze returned to Saturn's beauty. Serna had worked several space operator contracts before but mostly in the belt where every rock had a personality but no, elegance, like Saturn. Even then, big windows are expensive, a luxury that carries extra risk in space.

When she was done soaking up Saturn’s hypnotic surface, she undressed and showered. In the closet by the desk were several jumpsuit outfits wrapped in plastic. She tore one out and quickly put it on. All of them were green with a black trim, the same green color as her corridor. She didn't understand why Pearl would try so hard at color coding a rig with a crew of two people.

She reached for the chair by the desk to grab her helmet but when she pulled it out her helmet slipped off the seat and wedged itself between the desk and the wall behind it. She crouched down under the desk to unstick wedged helmet but it wouldn’t move - something pinned it in place. She flattened herself to the floor and tried again, this time she gripped the side of the visor and moved her body back just a bit for better leverage. With a bit of effort, she pulled her helmet out but as she did a cylindrical silver device fell out from behind the desk's leg.

Serna placed her helmet aside and reached for the device. Some kind of data port? Never seen a model like this before. It was mostly smooth with its chrome finish but it had some odd scratches at one end. She flipped it over to get a better look at scratches under some light - flipping it over and over in her hands, she was able to deduce that there were two or more abbreviated names scratched by what Serna assumed was the data port's previous owner. "J.S.," she said aloud to nobody, her eyes squinting for patterns in the scratches.

She couldn't even tell what it was for. No matter, she'd show it to Lovell at the training. She placed it on the desk with her helmet, she glanced out her window one more time but instead of soaking in Saturn's majesty - she looked at the yellow and orange moon below her. As the planet turned, Serna could spot a massive lake slowly spinning into view. It was the Kraken Mare, Titan's largest methane lake. But Lovell had said 'the Black Mare'. It didn't matter - she'll put all her questions to Lovell tomorrow.

She reached for her old spacesuit, took out the scratched photo, and carefully propped it on her desk, caressing the little brown girl’s face as she did.

“Tia Celda is less than a year away from hugging you, Amaya, just as I promised.” She blew Amaya a kiss and walked over to the panel by the window, marveling at the view all over again.

Saturn's raging storms against the silent and epic landscape calmed her. She closed the window, sliding a panel over the glass causing the room to go dark. Serna had ten more hours of rest. She lay in her bed and dozed off quickly hoping against nightmares.