Young Writers Society

From Tertiary Station to Hub Titan, it was a hop, skip, and an eight-day-long jump that zoomed past Pluto and soared over Saturn’s ring system. Focci was on landing duty, as always. Despite writing safety programs to handle Ellipse’s so-called “erratic” flying, he had whacked her out of the driver’s seat the moment Hub Titan came into view.

“It is so odd,” he hummed, ignoring the way Ellipse hovered over his shoulder. “You earthlings colonize moons with atmospheres you cannot breathe in, and then you have to build extra stations for the trans-atmospheric shuttles.”

Ellipse rolled her eyes. “Titan is literally the only moon that needs its own station. Only two other moons even have atmospheres worth mentioning.”

Too proud to accept defeat, Focci curled his tail up and jabbed at Ellipse’s legs.

She ignored him. Instead, as Hub Titan grew larger and larger in the window, she scanned the station for the fly-through customs rings that tore into parts of the structure.

Hub Titan had been built and paid-for by the American government, back when the moon was still a US colony, and aside from the jagged, plastic tubes poking through various parts of the station’s outer edge, it still looked like every other earthling station. It had shiny glass rings on each flat side, and the spoke-like lines painted on each of the three rotating circles inspired a vague sense of nausea in anyone who looked at them.

“Wow,” Focci said. “Three floors. That is fancy.”

“It takes up less space though,” Ellipse said. She pointed at one of the plastic tubes. “You have to go through one of those before dock control will contact us. They are scanning for colonial passports.”

“I see. Do you want to go make sure you put yours in the lead box?” Focci asked, he pressed a few buttons, and the Conics slowed its approach.

“Already taken care of.” Ellipse quirked her lips and reached out to press Mouthbot’s button on the dashboard. “Mouthbot,” she said, “ask Tejal to come to the cockpit.”

Somewhere on the ship’s first floor, Mouthbot requested Tejal’s presence in a stilted imitation of Ellipse’s accented English. The volume adjustment in Focci’s latest update did wonders for Ellipse’s ears, since now she could only hear echoes when Mouthbot spoke in a different room.

“I still do not understand why Mouthbot is starting to sound more and more like me,” Ellipse sang. She spun around to watch the door and crossed her arms. “The original computer voice was fine.”

“It learns through exposure, and I programmed Mouthbot to pay the most attention to when you talk.”

It was fine for the computer to learn languages from Ellipse, but it should have been taking its vocals from native speakers. Unless she was concentrating very hard, she had an accent in every language except Global Gliss.

Ellipse was about to point this out when the curtain over the cockpit door frame slid open and Tejal floated in. He scowled, clearly miffed about being interrupted, though whatever he was doing could not have been that important.

“I was double checking the inventory,” he said, nose wrinkling.

Oh. He was doing something important. But Ellipse’s spiel was important too, so he would just have to deal with it. Shrugging, Ellipse gestured for Tejal to join her at Focci’s side.

“Okay, so we have some things to discuss before landing,” she explained, “which basically all pertain to our links to the US, so listen up.”

“Shoot.” Tejal leaned over Focci’s shoulder to peer at Hub Titan, and his scowl faded.

“My colonial passport is in the lead box already, of course.”

Tejal nodded. “Right. We took care of that as soon as we passed Neptune’s orbit.”

“However, there will be a passport check when we land, which is different from other stations.” Ellipse elbowed Focci and pointed at a garish, orange tube that pierced through the station’s outer floor. “I can present my Independent Titan documents, but we are going to try and pass you off as an unregistered Titan native. There are enough of them still around, after all, and you have the right look.”

When Titan was first established as a colony, it had most heavily attracted people from the tropics, where climbing temperatures and humidity and an increase in storm strength and numbers made many cities dangerous to live in. Ellipse’s family traced back primarily to Southeast Asia, but she knew she had a grandmother from the Caribbean. Since both of Tejal’s biological parents were Indian, he would fit right in.

“Ah, but just as a precaution, you will want to claim a different last name,” Ellipse continued. “There are some Sethis on Titan, but people will already know who they are, and the name is connected with the Pax, so people will ask questions if you tell them your last name is Sethi.”

“I’ll use my mother’s maiden name then.”

“Sounds good.” Ellipse stretched her arms up and tried to loosen up her back muscles. “Oh, and you cannot make any purchases. Not unless you ask me first.”

Tejal did not take that stipulation quite as well. He coughed and gripped Focci’s shoulder too hard, making the siren squawk, and then gestured wildly at himself. “Seriously?” he shouted. “I can’t buy anything? I’ve been waiting for us to come back to our system for weeks!”

“Buy it when we get back to the monitor.”

“No way!” He pulled himself right into Ellipse’s space bubble and pinched the shoulder seam of his shirt. “Look at this! I came onto this ship and suddenly all my clothes were too small, and I only have three pairs of shorts left that still fit around my waist, and-

“That is called a growth spurt, Tejal,” Ellipse deadpanned. She leveled him with a mature, condescending stare, and pursed her lips. “When kids reach a certain age, they-

Tejal slapped his hands over his face and curled into himself. “Oh my god I know what puberty is shut up.”

“Right. Anyways, I would prefer if you did not go shopping here,” Ellipse said. “The Titan vendors are required to have machines that pull extra information from bit cards, and that information includes country of citizenship.”

The explanation seemed to sate Tejal. He peeked out from behind his hands, and his scowl softened. And then he looked at his shirt and frowned again.

Now that he had brought attention to it though, Ellipse noticed that his clothes probably were too small. She was no judge of boys and their physiques, but she had grown up surrounded by fashionable people in fashionable, perfectly-tailored clothing, and she knew what a good, comfortable fit looked like.

“Fine,” she sighed. “We can buy a few things, and I will pay for it, and you can finish up and pay me back when we return to the fold monitor.”

Tejal brightened at that.

“And maybe the Titan fashion scene will add some diversity to your wardrobe too.”

Maybe that comment had been uncalled for. Immediately, Tejal’s face darkened, and he shook a finger at Ellipse. “Hey! At least I don’t go around wearing the same coveralls every day and clomping around in giant boots and-

“It is called industrial fashion you-

Ellipse got smacked by a tail. On instinct, she clutched at the captain’s chair to keep herself from flying away and wound up with Focci’s fist right in her cheek.

“Ow,” she grumbled. She looked through the window and froze. Hub Titan spun just beneath the window, its painted spokes almost lining up, and Ellipse noticed people standing at the glass rings, watching as the Conics passed by.

“Handle the radio, would you?” Focci asked.

Curling her lips back in a glower, she took their radio from Focci’s palm and held it to her ear.

“Calling specifus-make ship one-oh-five-two-seven and Captain Tibot, this is Hub Titan Dock Control. Over.” Whoever was manning the radio had the lowest voice Ellipse had ever heard.

“This is Captain Tibot requesting permission to dock,” she replied. It was so nice to use Global Gliss again. “Over.”

Tejal muttered something about stuck-up polyglots, to which Focci responded by whacking him with his tail, but Ellipse ignored them.

“Our cargo?” she asked. “Oh, yes. We are carrying cooking alcohols from the Gant system. Over.”

“Permission granted,” the radio operator said, after a long pause. “We will have a customs officer ready for you at dock S-twenty-three. Over.”

“Thank you officer. Over.” Ellipse drifted towards the window to search for a dock with S-twenty-three painted on the doors.

“No problem, Captain Tibot. Welcome back to Titan. Over.”

Ellipse clipped the radio back onto the dashboard and pressed her fingertips against the glass. She squinted, trying to read the upside-down numbers on the far side of the station, and then spotted their dock a few spaces over, on the outer ring. As she floated back to Focci’s side, she pointed. “There. S-twenty-three. The one with the green paint.”

“Got it.”

“Tejal,” she said, turning back to the door, “I am going to get the ropes. Head down to the—did you seriously already connect to the station internet?”

He grinned, his tablet lighting up his face from below. “Yep. Hey, did you know Andra is there right now? Apparently there’s a tour on Earth next month.”

“Uh, no?” Ellipse bit her lip and hoped she did not look in any way panicked. “Who cares though? Just get down to the cargo bay before we land.”

Before Tejal could grace her with a sarcastic response, she shoved off the back of the captain’s chair and pushed through the curtain. “Heck,” she hissed once she was out of earshot. Hecking heckity heck.

If Andra caught her, she was going to be in so much trouble.