How Not to Wake Up

Banging your head against the ceiling, even at 1/10 g, is a rotten way to start your day. Banging your head against the ceiling because your idiot son decided to wake you up with the melodious strains of "Goldfish Warning" is, without a doubt, a worse start to the day.

"This had better be good, David!" I growled at the intercom. "I've told you, "Goldfish Warning" is strictly for emergencies!"

"How about an unscheduled Con, Dad?" David replied, his voice showing no signs of contrition whatsoever. "We just got the bounce off SSX. Con's gonna be in Phobos. If you take Max, you can get there with a few hours to spare."

"Max? What do you think about this?" I knew he was listening in - we were all pretty much an open book to each other, and there wasn't anyone else on Pallas yet, since the atmosphere was still growing. My calendar had the last of the O2-generating bacteria I'd bought from Kevin scheduled to hit their saturation point and die in about a month. Until then, I was living at the end I'd designated "North Pole," in a tunnel complex that would be the place's main port, with my boys.

"It would be nice to chat with some of the other ships without having to deal with the lag," Max replied. He's my third son. Looks like a VF-1S with a Skull Squadron paint job. "I'm up for it."

"All right, then. I'll throw together my Con kit and we can scoot." As much as I hate going into crowds that big, if something had come up to justify a Con this far out of the normal schedule, I figured I'd better be there to see what was up. "Mac? Antonio? You guys can keep up the maintenance and keep the Reavers off, right?"

"I am more concerned about random dust than Reavers," Antonio replied. "The canopy may be self-healing, but it still requires monitoring as the atmosphere fills it. I'm not sure the anchors are as strong as the canopy is."

"Neither am I, Tony. Neither am I. It's the trade-off of using a carbonaceous asteroid instead of a rocky one. Lots of organic material, but it's not as strong as rock would be. How about you, Mac?"

"No problems, Dad. A 40cm slug of solid rock, traveling at 100 miles per second, is going to ruin anyone's day. And you left us plenty of rocks to play with." Mac answered with a laugh. "At least, enough to keep any Reavers out of range until help can get here."

"All right. If you're sure." Have I mentioned how much I hate crowds?

"Dad," David cut in, actually sounding impatient, "if you don't start putting your kit together, I'll read the email to you. Out loud."

"Oy. Is it really that bad?"

"Dad, it's in Engrish." David made it sound as if Engrish were a swear word. "Video game level Engrish."

"Uh...right. Max, start warming up your engines. I'll be out in just a minute." Or maybe two, but it wasn't going to take long. It's not like I have all that much to pack. My Con kit really just consists of my meds, a couple changes of clothes, and whatever spare cash I have to spend on the hucksters. At least living at 1/10 g meant I didn't need as many meds as I had on Earth. But most days, before the end of the day, I was wishing I could trade in my organic parts for cybernetic ones, rather than just wearing Edgar as a wristwatch. Come to think of it, he hadn't put in his two cents worth yet. "Edgar?"

"I'm sorry, Father," Edgar answered - verbally, rather than directly into my mind the way he usually did. "I have been analyzing what I could scrape up in message traffic. Unfortunately, it's not very informative. Mostly speculation and gossip. It does, however, confirm that the Reavers are concerning a lot of people. Most worrisomely, they seem to be concerning people affiliated with the 'Danelaw."

"Just what we need," I grumbled under my breath as I stuffed my bag. As if my day hadn't started off badly enough. "Damned fedgoons sticking their noses where they're not wanted. Just what they do best. Damned Reavers would almost be an improvement. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if OUR Reavers were a fedgoon project, too."

"Not surprising, but not likely, either," Edgar said. "David, do continue monitoring everything you can pick up. If you hit anything like what I've flagged as interesting, squirt it to Max. He can pass it to me."

"Sure thing," David said. "Dad, I have your frame in Max's cargo bay in case the gravity is too high in Phobos. Use it this time. Please?"

His voice had a pleading tone I couldn't fight. Last time I'd gone anywhere with a lot of gravity, I'd had a mild heart attack. Ever since then, the boys had been afraid I'd have a repeat performance, and that this time I wouldn't be able to get medical help in time.

"All right, David," I sighed. "I promise. And Edgar will help me keep my promise. OK?"

"Thanks, Dad." The relief in his voice brought tears to my eyes. The boys really did worry about me, and I loved them as much as if they were my own flesh and blood. I couldn't risk leaving them alone and unloved.

"David, make sure everyone hears this, ok?" I waited for him to acknowledge it before I continued. "I promise, I'll do whatever I have to, to stay healthy on this trip. But if anything happens despite the best efforts of myself, Max, and Edgar, I want you to call Kevin. If you can't get through to him, call Megan. Either way, I don't want you boys left alone without someone to love you."

I did my best to ignore the worried protests as I stowed my bag alongside my frame and closed Max's cargo bay. Once that was done, I jumped up to the cockpit and strapped myself in. Given my size, it was a tight fit, but more snug than painful out here. Kind of like a Fiero's bucket seat had fit when I was 200 pounds lighter. I leaned back, snugged my head up against the headrest, and felt Max's induction connections take hold. Seeing and feeling through his sensors, I no longer felt restricted by my own body. Max/I rolled out of the hangar into the open ground within the polar ring, then stopped to scan the sky before kicking in the drives and taking off. The best thing about being completely linked with Max was that the cockpit didn't have any controls or instruments to confuse me if I opened my eyes while linked. Max/I flew as naturally as a bird, without need of the instruments an ordinary pilot and jet needed. Sometimes Edgar had to bring us back down to earth, but that didn't happen much since the time we flew to the Limit and Edgar had had to pull us back before my body failed from hunger and dehydration.

"Here's the rest of your email, Dad," David sent as we lifted away from Pallas. "Try to have fun, ok?"

"Will do my best. You boys be good to each other while I'm gone, ok? I love you all."

"We love you too, Father," Antonio replied for all of them, waving one of his chelicera as Max/I flew over the envelope before adjusting our course for Mars.