And the Wages of Sin

A story about Minkowski.

I

"History has shown us that it is gravity that has been at the root of all evil. All suffering occurs here, on Earth, where gravity is strongest. Where is the suffering in orbit? There is none. Some might claim that this is merely because our inhabitation of space is so minimal, but I say to you that in saying this they have accepted the reality of fundamental sin. They have accepted the existence of sin in gravity."

-From a lecture by Dr. Evan Cavor, 2041.

It was cold in the hold. Grant drifted between the lattice of containers, lightly pushing with his toes to correct his speed and his angle. He brushed past painted strings of numbers, looking for the specific sequence they had all memorised yet knowing precisely where it was. There. In that safest location against the far wall between the hold and the bulk of the water. He held out his pole and halted himself. He entered the container.

It was cramped though it held little. Grant placed down the little space heater and let it rattle in the cold and waited for the container to warm. Then he approached the passengers.

The cryopods were so old that they didn't have a fancy name. The captain had misgivings but they had been provided by the customer and they had waived liability for malfunctions in the pods themselves. Such a large amount of money for so little mass. He unscrewed the jalf-inch panels over the controls, set them to thaw, then waited again, holding his sleeve away from his watch. He took his impact wrench and opened the caskets, one after the other and carefully set the lids aside. The inner casket was hospital white and did not need his intervention. Through the milky plastic he could see them, skinny and dark, and he opened the bags strapped to the lids and laid out the towels and the sponges full of fluids and electrolytes and the light clothing. He waited once more and knew that it would not be pretty and it was not.

He had staggered the wake-up. The first splits open and when the young man inside moves on his first reflex Grant can almost hear the crack of bones. The passenger took his first breath and his ribs moved with uncommon flexion and it was loud and sick sounding and the youth cried out and and began coughing wetly. Grant was holding the lip of the casket and he pulled himself in, bringing one of the hydrating sponges. "Take it kid, there we go. Don't move so much. Just drinking will do you in."

The second cryopod opened and Grant pushed himself over to the second boy. This one was crying softly, squirming with the pain of thick, sluggish blood moving through dessicated veins. Grant touched the back of his smooth head and pressed the sponge to his lips. They seemed feverish but after a while he helped them dress and they floated sucking at more fluids. "Have we arrived?" one of them managed. He cracked the fingers of his feet with slow flexes.

"More or less." Grant said. "Give it another couple of hours before we can drop you off."

"Has it really been two months?"

"It has."

After some time he checked their mouths and pressed at the skin of their wrists and decided that they were well enough to look after themselves. He left, and Sirius took that moment to open his hard-shell suitcase and unseal his wig. He fiddled with the fringe and turned to his friend. "How's that?"

"It's fine." Capella said around the nipple of his fluid-sponge. His knees were drawn up to his chest and he was staring at one of the small walls of the small container. Sirius frowned.

"Do you want me to get your hair?"

"Okay."

Afterwards they dressed properly and left the container and called for Grant. He told them that he would handle the cryopods and that they should take some time to move around the hold. Sirius felt his body waken as he pushed and pulled himself through the angles and opening of the cargo. He decided he would be fully alive in an hour or so and looked around for Capella, finding him gracelessly moving around a single container. It didn't seem right but he decided not to say anything. Grant finished his work and pushed their suitcases into their hands and lead them out of the hold.

They were allowed up to the cockpit. It was a mess of screens and uncovered cabling. When they entered the captain waved them up. "Mr Kentaurus, Mr Toliman. Welcome back to the land of the living. And welcome to 51 Basis. You're just in time, we've reached visual distance of Crownshatter."

She pointed towards the vision block, and they looked out. Through the polarised quartz they could see the blue and darker blue whorling of Sargasso and standing against it a shape like a figure with two wings. Sirius felt his mouth open slightly. It was like an angel ... he shook his head. No, it was just a stone. A huge stone. There were lights around it, only barely visible.

"It's the size of Gagarin." Capella said, his voice wavering. The pilot laughed and shook her head.

"Jeez, I'd like to see your reaction to Second Luna around Londenium."

"Don't tease them Lori."

"Yes ma'am."

Sirius was hanging on to the back of the empty navigator's couch and he pulled himself closer to the viewport, grasped the couch again with his feet. It had such a strange shape. Was it natural? Perhaps they had shaped it. Sliced off pieces and left them drifting through space without any concern, just to get this regular shape. He could imagine that excess, but decided just to watch. There was a time to be judged and it was not this time.