say that unless you mean it. You might not be getting rid of me for a month.” Vanhi gave her a wink.
“You’ve done well here,” her sister said, glancing around the hall, watching jumpsuited specialists double-time it to and from their stations.
Vanhi’s face fell, but she propped up her smile in the next instant, not wanting Swara to see her falter.
Her family didn’t need to know she’d tried to resign, that Madame Chair had begged her to stay on. She’d only acquiesced because the guilt of dropping the mission had outweighed the guilt of maintaining her post. Now, she tried to stay in constant motion, to keep busy. Busy people didn’t have time for regret.
She’d even offered Dr. Chappell a prominent position on the team. Vanhi knew the move looked odd from the outside, but no one suspected any motives beyond altruism (which, in its own way, only burgeoned Vanhi’s shame). In response, Dr. Chappell had all but sent a flaming bag of dog poop to her door.
Vanhi couldn’t blame her. If their positions were reversed, she would have balked just the same.
Sometimes the bad guys win.
So … what does that make me?
But she couldn’t tell her sister all that. So she just said, “The crew does well. They’re wonderful. We have a lot more retired military aboard than I would have expected. Should have, though. They’re used to taking on temporary stations halfway across the globe, so it’s no wonder they’d be up for a few years in space. But they’re great. And I’ve got some new recruits coming in as you’re headed out. Excited to meet them. Even though I wish you could stay longer, of course.”
With a scrunched-nose smile, Swara reached into the side pocket of her duffel and drew out a small box wrapped in bright green. It looked like a container jewelry might come in, but Swara would know better than that; Vanhi hardly ever wore any. “To say thank you for letting me come visit you aboard your convoy,” she said, holding it out with both hands.
“You know you don’t need to.”
“I know. But this way there’s something up here to help remind you of us down there.”
They hugged again, said their goodbyes. Vanhi wished her sister a safe trip back to Earth. When Swara was securely on the other side of the door, Vanhi looked at the box again. She had an hour before the next pods had to be approved for deployment, so she scurried back to her quarters to open the gift.
Once inside her spacious quarters (they were meant for a four-person family, but since there were plenty of vacant rooms, there was no need to be restrictive), Vanhi settled herself at her small kitchen table.
She tugged at the bit of twine encompassing the wrapping before tearing into the packaging proper. The slick paper fell away with ease, leaving what was unquestionably a jewelry box, hinged on one side and velvety. It opened with a snap.
Vanhi wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. A necklace? A pin?
Inside was a wristwatch-that-wasn’t. It had all the trappings of a watch: real leather strap (she hoped Papa didn’t know!), metal buckle, clockface. Only the clockface wasn’t analog or digital. It was antiquated. Where one would expect to see a pair of hands or set of displays was instead an evenly scoured plate and a gnomon.
Underneath the watch lay a note.
Dear little Ullu,
Vanhi cringed, then shook her head fondly at the old nickname. It had been a childhood insult that had slowly morphed into an endearment.
Since you are the strangest scientist I know, what with your love of archaic things like eyeglasses and your pocket protector (I believe you call it C), I thought you might enjoy this gen-one timepiece. I hear it’s cutting-edge technology, if you happen to live in Babylon.
When I saw this in the storefront I remembered what you said about distance not mattering, only travel time. So when you wear this, know that it takes exactly 0.00 seconds for my love to reach you, no matter where you are.
Found that programmer you talked about—Kaeden. We worked in some upgrades I think you’ll like.
Good luck. See you soon.
Yours lovingly,
Swara
Vanhi turned the sundial over in her palm. The back wasn’t inscribed, but it didn’t have to be. It was made of a polished, brassy silver-gold metal she couldn’t identify, even after finding the jeweler’s stamp. It carried some weight, but not too much. The hour lines were labeled in Roman numerals.
She hurried to swipe the old phone from where it sat in a place of honor on her bookshelf. She didn’t need it aboard the ships—everyone’s chip implants were integrated into the comms system—but they’d have to pry her Intelligent Personal Assistant out of her cold, dead hands.
“Wake up, want to show you something. Look at what Swara gave me.” She flashed the sundial, then held up the note for C to scan.
“She’s not wrong, I am antiquated,” it agreed.
“But that’s why I love you,” she said, strapping the sundial onto her left wrist. “Hope I don’t jab anyone with the gnomon. Can’t tell if it would bend or skewer.”
“The stamp indicates it is a Ti-Au alloy, typically used for medical implants. It would likely puncture.”
“Odd thing to make a bracelet out of.”
“Agreed. You should probably assess its electrical properties before wearing it during experiment engineering.”
The strap pulled snug. The brown leather was soft on the inside of her wrist. A little green light lit up on the side of the dial. “That’s … interesting.”
“I’m detecting a software compatible device within range,” C said. “I believe the sundial can support my applications.”
“What? No way.” Now she understood the part about talking with Jamal. Swara always did give the best gifts.
“Shall I upload myself to the new device?”
“Yes please. I need to head to Breath for my shift, but let me know when the download is complete, okay?”
“Will do. Oh, and Vanhi?”
“Yeah?”
“The convoy communications team sent me another message from Dr. Kaufman. Would you like to hear it before you go?”
She’d asked comms not to contact her by implant with his drivel. Instead it all got shuffled over to C. “Nope. You know what to do with it.”
“Message number eighty-seven from Doctor McKenzie Kaufman—Archived.”
Vanhi was the first on the shift shuttle. She buckled up as other workers poured into the craft behind her, pulling the heavy harness straps over her shoulders one at a time. Most of the new recruits were dressed
