A story from the Space Squad 51 Universe…
The stained orange carpeting on the elevator floor and the intense scent of cleanser increased Ipsa’s nausea. She gripped her daughter’s hand tighter, and Nikili looked up at her with those startling amber eyes.
She had her father’s eyes, which broke Ipsa’s heart anew. Grief flooded her soul and pushed its way out of her tear ducts, blurring reality with the recent past. Barely four weeks ago, she had watched the light go out in an older set of amber eyes, those belonging to her beloved Ather. She would never feel his love again, nor his comfort.
“Everything is going to be all right, Ipsa,” he would say when she couldn’t sleep. “We’re okay.”
She needed to hear those words and feel his strong arms. Her spirit caved from the weight of her sorrow, and she didn’t dare look down at her daughter again.
“What’s wrong, Mom?”
“Shush now.” The elevator door opened, and Ipsa dragged Nikili with her into a corridor reeking of more cleanser. The smell reminded her of the chemicals that had eaten away Ather’s skin like he was the star of a horror show, only this one had no ending. Ipsa’s horror went on and on and on.
The struggle to keep herself going and not abandon her daughter bent her back as much as the ache of Ather’s loss. The line for the air rations office was long, just a mere eight steps from the elevator. Ipsa took her place, leaning against the dingy wall, letting it prop her up, letting it keep her from completely collapsing.
“You need to help me,” she whispered hoarsely to her daughter. “Look sad and pitiful. Think about wanting a waffle cake when we get to the head of the line and the air agent starts speaking to us.” She could feel her daughter’s confused blinks, but couldn’t bring herself to look at Ather’s eyes again.
“Of course, I’ll help you, Mom.”
Ipsa brought up a game on her holoscreen and swiped it over to Nikili. There were too many whiny and wailing kids. Her daughter didn’t need to add to the chaos.
A former coworker shuffled out from the interior and stopped in front of Ipsa. “How you doing? I’ve been thinking of you lots.”
Ipsa’s mouth grew tight. She couldn’t smile or frown or speak, so she just nodded.
“Our hours got cut because of the accident,” she prattled on, oblivious as to how her mentioning the tragic event scraped Ipsa raw. She gestured over her shoulder at the office, explaining what she was doing here. “You should come back. Hours will be picking up again soon. Then you won’t have to come here no more.” She aimed her smile down. Ipsa supposed at her daughter, but she wouldn’t look. “You take good care of your ma.” Her gaze took in Ipsa head to toe. “See you. Soon?”
Thankfully, a message came in on her comm link, allowing her to get away with merely nodding again. The message was from the neighbor next door asking if Ipsa was serving meals tonight. She replied she wouldn’t. Not only was she almost out of air, but she was also out of food.
Her head ached from trying to think of what to do. She hated that she might have to return to the factory. The question wasn’t if an accident would claim her life, but when. She didn’t want Nikili to end up an orphan. Orphans were shipped off to the mines, many to die before they reached adulthood. Ipsa wanted a better life for her daughter, better than factories and certainly better than mining. The line lurched ahead at an agonizing pace.
Nikili tugged on Ipsa’s sleeve. “Want to play a game with me?”
“Not right now, sweetie, but thanks for checking in with me.”
“Sure, Mom.” Nikili pressed herself against Ipsa as if Ather’s ghost had whispered in her ear and told her what Ipsa needed.
She stifled another fit of tears, turning her face to the wall, the smells reminding her of the chemicals painfully peeling away Ather’s skin, her ears ringing with his painful screams. Her friends and the manager had tried to drag her away. But she wouldn’t leave him. Desperate to spend their last moments together, her hands and lips had pressed against the transparent panel. It hadn’t mattered if Ather wasn’t aware she was there. She knew. She was aware.
Finally, her turn came, and she strode up to the available air agent, Nikili in tow. “I need an extension. Please. My husband just died, and, and…” She choked on her emotions unable to say another word.
“She’s out every day looking for work,” Nikili piped up. “Everything will be okay. We just need more time.”
The agent considered Nikili, then smiled. “Says here your mams worked at the power cell factory.”
“Yeah, my dad was in the most recent accident there.”
Ipsa wondered how her daughter could speak so matter-of-factly after weeping inconsolably in her room for two solid weeks.
“What’s his prognosis?” the agent asked.
Nikili shook her head.
The agent reached through the narrow slit in the window separating him from the public and patted Nikili’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, dear. That’s harsh.”
“She doesn’t want me to be an orphan,” Nikili prattled on, “so won’t go back to the factory.”
“There are too many orphans, that’s for sure. You’ve got a great mams there looking out for you.”
“She is the best.” Her little fingers gripped Ipsa’s tightly, and Ipsa felt the smile radiating up from her daughter.
“I can extend you one month, Ipsa Echols. Beyond that your case will be day by day.”
Mustering her emotions, Ipsa managed to ask the question swirling in her head. “You mean, I’ll have to come here every day after a month?”
“Yes, citizen. I’m sorry. But if you’re serious about work, my sister-in-law needs a couple of deckhands at dock twenty-three.” He nodded at Nikili. “Are you ten yet?”
“Close enough,” Nikili answered.
“With a can-do attitude like that she’ll take you on too. Then I shouldn’t see the two of you back here again.”
“Really?” Ipsa didn’t want to hope.
“Open your holoscreen, citizen. Let’s exchange contact info. I’ll have my sister-in-law get in touch with you.”
“Th-thank you.” Ipsa glanced at her screen. “You saved us, Ocklan.” Her mouth twisted as her thoughts shifted away from grief and tragedy. “Your name has roots in the rebellion.”
“My blood does too. Citizens need to take care of each other. That’s what the great Thijin wanted for us all. By the time she grows up,” he nodded at Nikili, “I hope this office no longer exists.”
“That’s a grand dream, Ocklan.”
“To me, it’s called being human.”
He shooed them away. Ipsa glanced down at her daughter and smiled. “Everything is going to be all right. We’re going to be okay.” She put her arm firmly around Nikili. Today she had learned kindness could slice through grief.
