“KNOCK KNOCK! GOOD morning, Akane!”
“Hoi, Akane! Wake-up time!”
For the past two days, Yukari and Matsuri had come each morning to Akane’s room to take her to breakfast. She was always ready to go when they got there—except for today.
“Hoi? I don’t think she’s here.”
“Akane? We’re coming in.”
Yukari turned the knob. It wasn’t locked.
The room was completely empty. No suitcase, no jacket hanging on the wall, and no books on the desk. The bed showed no signs of having been slept in.
Yukari quickly ran back to the hallway and checked the number on the door. Room 201. This was the place.
The two girls went downstairs to the concierge. “Did Akane move to a different room?”
“Who? Miss Miura? Oh, you hadn’t heard? She left yesterday.”
“What do you mean ‘left’?”
“I was told she was going back to Japan so she wouldn’t be needing her room after yesterday.”
“What? You mean she left without telling us?”
“That’s odd. Didn’t you three get along well? I wonder why she would have done that.”
The concierge here made up for having no work to do by being nosy. Yukari left without another word. She went straight for the training center. Up the stairs, she found the door with the plate reading SPACE BIOLOGY LAB and went in without knocking.
Satsuki Asahikawa was inside, sitting in front of a tray with some toast and tomato juice on it, reading a trade magazine of some sort.
“Satsuki?”
“Yukari! Good morning.”
“Is it true that Akane went back to Japan?”
“What? You didn’t know? Yes, she went home yesterday.”
“You mean, she failed the test.”
Satsuki set down her magazine and shifted in her chair. “Unfortunately, yes. You were there, were you not? Someone who faints at 4 G just can’t be an astronaut.”
“But she could have gotten better with training!”
“Don’t look at me like that. The testing is used to determine aptitude—the scope of a person’s abilities at the present moment. Not in some hypothetical future.”
“That may be, but she came all this way, she even quit school, and we just send her home?”
“Believe me, I didn’t want to do it. But the job requires more than just dedication and enthusiasm,” Satsuki said. “This is really the best for her, and for you and Matsuri. Please understand.”
Yukari knew that laying this on Satsuki would get her nowhere, but it was still hard to accept. “Why did she leave without saying a word?”
“She was probably too embarrassed.”
“Why?”
“Because you were the one who recommended her. In a sense, she failed you.”
“She did nothing of the sort!” Yukari shouted. “I was the one who dragged her here! I was the one who told her she’d be hired in an instant, no problem. And she believed me. That’s why she came. It’s not her fault at all. It’s mine!”
A fleck of spittle shot from Yukari’s mouth and landed in Satsuki’s glass of tomato juice, sending ripples across the surface. Satsuki held up her hands. “Okay, okay. I get it.”
“It was my fault.” Yukari’s voice sounded strained.
“I understand.”
“I thought she could help out. I thought she was a good fit. That’s why I invited her.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that approach. Nothing at all,” Satsuki said.
“And she was fine in the helicopter. She didn’t get sick or faint.”
“People get carsick for any number of reasons.”
“And you should’ve seen the look in her eyes when I invited her to go up with me.”
“Yukari—”
“I told her I wanted to show her the world from above. How beautiful it was.”
“Yukari,” Satsuki said, her voice gentle, “enough.” Satsuki stood and walked over to Yukari’s side. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the tears off her cheek.
“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” Yukari said with a sniffle.
“It’s okay.” She tapped Yukari lightly on the shoulder. “Here, have a seat.”
Yukari sat down on a nearby bench.
“Look. She may have failed this time, but I think there’s a possibility for a second chance. She’s much more of a fighter than she seems at first.”
Yukari rubbed her eyes with both hands and cried a bit more.
Satsuki watched her quietly.
At length, Yukari spoke. “Satsuki?”
“Yes?”
“Could you give me Akane’s telephone number?”
“Her telephone number?”
“I want to call her and apologize.”
“But you don’t have anything to apologize for—”
“I don’t want her to think it’s her fault!”
“All right, all right.” Satsuki thought for a second, then said, “You know…I don’t think I ever asked for her phone number.”
“What? Didn’t she have to fill out any medical forms or anything?”
“That’s the thing—I was thinking of doing that when she got hired.”
“You don’t have her address?”
“Not even that.”
“I guess I could always dial information.”
“Look, Yukari. I’m sure she’s not home yet anyway. And maybe you want to wait a little while in any case. Give her a week at least.”
“Why?”
“You both have a lot on your mind right now. You should let things settle a bit first. Then talk.”
“You think?”
“Yes. Absolutely! That’s my opinion as a doctor.”
“Okay, then. That’s what I’ll do.”
Yukari nodded, blew her nose, and went back out the door, leaving Satsuki to breathe a deep sigh of relief.
✦ ✦ ✦
SUNDAY, SIX DAYS later.
With SSA rockets going up monthly, both the ground crew and astronauts rarely had a moment to breathe, but today was a rare pause from work for everybody.
Matsuri was decked out from head to toe in tribal garb—a bit misleading, since that tribal garb comprised little more than a bikini, and a small one at that.
What she lacked in skin coverage, though, she made up for with tropical bling: necklaces, bracelets, anklets—she had the works. Most were made from local flora and fauna, such as palm fronds, rattan fibers, exquisite seashells, and the fangs of small animals, but here and there could be spotted a stray bolt or washer she had picked up on base, or strips of glittery fabric cut from a thermal blanket. Each piece played a role in the local brand of magic, but clearly there was some flexibility in the tradition when it came to materials.
Most Taliho dressed far more austerely, but Matsuri was special. She had been tapped to be the next shaman of the tribe. She strode out through the main gate, a spear in her right hand and a woven hemp satchel in her left.
“Hey there, Matsuri,” the guard called out to her. “Where are you headed?”
“To the northern jungle to gather irippe nuts. Might find a durian too, if I’m lucky.”
“I’m afraid the jungle is off-limits right now.”
“Hoi? The whole jungle? Why?”
“Security is doing live ammo training.”
“But it’s been nine years since we’ve been able to gather nuts in the north. I have to go now.”
“Sorry, but off-limits is off-limits.”
Matsuri frowned and walked over to the guard. She looked at him with her black eyes, like a cat’s. She looked through him.
The guard’s expression softened.
“Bullets won’t hit me,” Matsuri whispered.
“…Bullets won’t hit you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“…You’ll be fine.”
“Open the gates.”
“On it.”
The guard pressed the large red button and the striped bar across the road lifted.
Matsuri grinned and walked through.
✦ ✦ ✦
The Solomon Space Center had been built on several square kilometers of flat land carved out of the jungle on the eastern edge of the island.
Through the gate, the unpaved road was quickly swallowed by jungle. To the southwest, the jungle rose, becoming the jagged ridgeline of the Shiribas Range.
The dangers of these tropical jungles, be it the blistering heat, fanged beasts and giant snakes, malaria, or cannibals, were often exaggerated to near mythical heights. In truth, it did get hot and steamy between the trees at times, but the ick-factor was really no different from what one might feel during the rainy season in Japan. There were hardly any large animals, and all cannibalism had been stamped out by missionaries years ago. Nor did healthy people who had been properly inoculated need to worry much about malaria.
Though there was a constant struggle between the plants of the forest for nutrients and sunlight, the front lines in that battle were in the canopy. Hardly anything of size grew on the dimly lit jungle floor. The main barrier to getting around for anyone who hadn’t grown up here was the thick tangle of low-lying broadleaf shrubs. Most of the shrubs sent out roots that popped up from the forest floor like shark fins, crisscrossing in all directions. The layered roots and vines, and fallen trees that lay like small mountains covered in moss, all served to restrict vision and slow travel by foot to a crawl.
Most of a traveler’s energy was spent clambering up and down the various obstacles. Without a clear view of one’s surroundings, it was impossible to avoid the natural barriers and barricades, and often inexperienced adventurers would find themselves at a dead end and forced to turn back. The experience could be so disheartening that, as the traveler’s exhaustion deepened, some gave up trying to find a route, and instead lay down and simply wasted away.