The Gravity of the Moment
by C. H. Russellson
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Table of Contents, parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 |
Ian Brock hails from a family of interplanetary pioneers and entrepreneurs, but he works as a facility technician on Titan and shuns the limelight. His best friend is the bombastic and oft-maligned Neal Grayson. They make an odd pair but, sometimes, opposites attract and lend each other balance. When Neal needs a co-pilot on a flight to Rhea, he arranges for Ian to have well-deserved vacation time. Ian reluctantly comes along, not knowing he’s in for the ride of his life. After all, what are friends for, right?
part 1
As we boarded the railcar to the residence dome, Neal Grayson asked me about my family. “So, Ian, your grandmother was a hero of sorts on two planets, right? And your old man hasn’t done so badly for himself here on Titan. Yeah, you Brocks are making a name for yourselves throughout the whole Solar System.”
Afterwards, after bringing up my heritage, Grayson was uncharacteristically quiet. He sat beside me in the nearly deserted railcar. I could see his smirk from the corner of my eye. I just wanted to relax after work and enjoy the ride through the connector. The rail was elevated there, and you could just see the tops of the young trees. Below, a serpentine path made its way among the plantings of shrubs, flowers, and even small patches of grass.
“Okay, Neal. What’s your point?” I finally asked, hoping he couldn’t hear the irritation in my voice. As much as I knew this moment would come, I still dreaded it. Grayson had been my friend ever since we started working together as facility techs here at the Sanders Center.
Our position was not the most glamorous, but it paid the bills. We had to take what was available. We became fast friends, making a good team. He was the boisterous, loud one while I was more reserved and a good bit more wary of people. I always tried to downplay “the Brock lineage.” It came up from time to time, but if I asked him about his past on Luna and Ganymede, Grayson became uncharacteristically tight-lipped.
“My point is, Ian, what is going to be your claim to fame? Or are you planning to work as a tech all your life? Hey, maybe your old man can get you a supervisor job. Can you ask him to put in a good word for me while he’s at it?” This was Neal Grayson’s game. He was always looking for a vulnerability or a sensitive spot to plant the hook.
I had seen and heard him use this tactic on many newcomers to Titan; he was always trying to get some newbie to partner up with him in his latest scheme. For the most part, his schemes were legitimate enterprises but, more often than not, the partnership would end with something like: “Get away from me” or “You owe me (x-amount) and don’t talk to me until you have it.”
Sanders was a twenty-second century version of a boomtown; there was always a flow of incoming fresh faces. Neal would lay low for a time, all the while seeking out the next “business partner.” So, it was finally my turn, which surprised me that he was willing to risk our friendship, considering how the partnerships usually turned out.
The railcar slowed, stopping at the station roughly equidistant to both our apartments. I grabbed my bag and started walking toward my place with Grayson on my heels. “Come on, Ian. I’ll buy your dinner,” he said to my back.
I turned to face him. “I’m really not in the mood for one of your sales pitches.”
“Hey, it’s not like that! Ian, have I ever tried that stuff on you? You know, you might want to remember the fact that if it wasn’t for me, you probably wouldn’t have ever met your last two girlfriends. Yeah, that’s right. All I need is a little help with something that I thought my best friend might be willing to help with. So just go on to your little apartment.”
There was that Neal Grayson hook again. I was a little indebted to him, although those two girls he mentioned were long gone. But that wasn’t Grayson’s fault. We just stood on the platform staring at each other.
“Okay, okay,” I finally said. “Look, I’m sorry. You’re right, you haven’t tried to recruit me. Until now!” We both laughed. “So, what’s it all about and what’s this about dinner?”
“Well, that’s more like it! I’ll explain later. But for now, let’s drop our stuff off at my place. It’s on the way to Ferdinand’s.”
“Ferdinand’s? You still have some allotments? I was expecting something from the cantina. Alright, lead the way.”
Ferdinand’s was small, only six tables, five when there was a big party of four or more and then two tables were pushed together. But, despite its small size and pretentious name, Ferdinand’s was the only thing that passed for a real restaurant in the entire residence dome. Most meals not eaten in the small apartments were served cafeteria style or through small vendor walk-ups, usually with extremely limited choices.
As we approached, several people were milling around outside the establishment, hoping for a table. Grayson walked right up and as soon as the maître d’ saw him, we were led to a table for two. As we walked past a table, I thought I heard someone whisper, “That damn Grayson” or something to that effect. A family of four was celebrating a kid’s birthday at the table next to ours.
This wasn’t the type of place you brought your friend to ask a favor. Rather, Ferdinand’s was for special occasions like anniversaries, promotions or celebrating whatever needed celebrating. Since all residents were given a small number of allotments, dining here was a special treat.
I didn’t know what kind of deal Grayson had made to score extra meals, but there was an old Earth saying involving something about a horse’s mouth. The waiter took our drink orders and hurried off, leaving us with our menus printed on real paper stock bound in something like leather. A candle burned in the center of the table. An actual open flame!
We both ordered the brook trout that didn’t come from a brook but instead a tank somewhere on Ganymede most likely. I enjoyed it and, to be honest, it was my first time having trout. I had been to Ferdinand’s only once before. That was the time Klaudia told me that Titan life was too slow and she was transferring back to Luna. I never saw her after that, and it ruined the appeal of the place for a while. I had even let some of my allotments expire unused. There had been a couple women in my life since Klaudia, so I had gotten over it. At least that’s what I told myself.
Since I wasn’t paying, I didn’t want to be rude, but Grayson was just sipping his California wine and talking about everything except what he needed my help with. Finally, he said, “Relax, Ian. We’ll get around to all that. How did you like the trout?” I told him it was okay as he made a show to leave a big tip and making sure the other diners knew he was a regular and knew all the staff by name. I thought I heard more comments as we left, but it was probably my imagination.
From Ferdinand’s we walked the short distance to Grayson’s new place. He had recently moved out of his singles unit like mine, and I hadn’t had the time or inclination to check it out. Somehow, he had scored not only a family unit but one of the larger ones with separate rooms. My place was less than twelve square meters total, counting storage and the bathroom.
“Watch this.” The lights faded and an image of a greenish-blue planet that I recognized as Uranus swam into focus in the middle of the room. Little orbs circled it at different distances and speeds. Then the point of view shifted to a vantage directly over one of the poles. The moons continued their silent and timeless dance around Uranus. Slowly, as my eyes adjusted, a ghostly haze began to appear and obscure all but the outer moons. I knew this was the magnetosphere; something that anyone near a gas giant had to be mindful of.
I settled onto a couch as Grayson disappeared around a wall, apparently in the kitchen preparing drinks as I heard the clinking of ice cubes into glasses. “Water for me,” I said. With such low gravity on Titan, sofa cushions didn’t need to be especially thick, but these were more plush than normal. I relaxed after a long day and a great dinner, mesmerized by the moons’ dancing across the darkened room.
Uranus. Some people pronounced it “your anus” while others said “you’re on us,” and still others, “urine us.” I’d heard it said to “pick your poison.” I reminded myself that the planet remained the only place in the Solar System not visited by humans.
Well, there had been the ill-fated Uranus Survey Expedition that performed a gravity-assist maneuver aided by Uranus’ bulk to get back to civilization. That was some sixty-odd years ago, back in the 2150’s. They made it to Mars, but just barely and with one dead crew member.
Since then, nada, zilch. There were too many other high-profile destinations. Now that humans had made the thirteen-year crossing to Proxima Centauri, the seventh planet with its odd tilt stood alone, seeming to scoff defiantly with its butt up in the air, as the only remaining plum of exploration in the home system.
“Oberon.” Grayson said, returning to the room. He said it like the name of an island paradise back on Earth that might be inhabited only by scantily clad women.
“Why would someone pick Oberon? Titania is the largest moon.” I said, showing off what little I knew of the Uranus system. I just hoped he didn’t expect me to name the rest of the moons.
Grayson sighed. “Titania is the obvious target. Besides, it sounds too much like Titan. Oberon has a more masculine sound to it, don’t you think?”
I didn’t bother to answer, because Grayson walked out of the room again. I was just wondering where this sudden interest in the moons of Uranus had come from and what it all had to do with me. He returned carrying two glasses and positioned himself on the other end of the sofa. I knew I was in trouble.
“Actually, Ian, there’s a more practical reason to look at Oberon. It doesn’t have anything to do with the name,” he said. “Keep watching.” I watched for a couple of minutes as the moons circled, still visible through the veil of charged particles. I took another drink of water and hoped refills would be offered, because the seasoning on the vegetable rice had been a little strong.
I glanced over at Grayson to find him watching me with that smirk that always irritated me. So, I was supposed to see something. I watched the display until I noticed one of the larger moons ducking in and out of the veil ever so briefly. The image froze and zoomed in, focusing on that moon while it was outside the magnetosphere.
“Oberon.” His voice had regained the fantasy-island timbre again. Then, suddenly, the display was gone, and the lights came back up. “Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. That’s just something that’s interested me for a while.”
He took a long pull from his glass, almost emptying its contents. “No, forget all that. So, I might’ve mentioned it before, but some friends of mine scored on a service contract for Rhea. They’ve got their operation up and running now, both orbital and on the surface. That would be a great investment opportunity but, no, this is about something else. The supplier that’s been dropping off their provisions has decided to stick it to them and keeps going up on rates since they didn’t bother to get anything in writing.
“So, I’ve come up with a plan. You know me, right? I’m going to get an intersystem rental and load it up with foodstuffs at wholesale from a guy I know at Luna. The goods are already here in Titan orbit. This supply scheme will save them a bundle and, if things work out, I might be able to buy into their operation. If nothing else, it might turn into a side hustle until the Saturn Environs Authority finds a way to shut it down.
“The problem is the port authority won’t allow me to ferry the stuff over to Rhea alone. There must be at least two in the crew. And they will verify especially since I’ve had a couple of minor infractions with the SEA already. You’ve got a valid basic instrument permit, right? Yeah, you do, brother. I checked.”
“What are you doing looking at my records?” I asked, getting a little perturbed. “You think I can just take off, what, at least a week?”
“Yeah, about a week. A couple of days going to and from, plus unloading and a little time to check out their operation in the event you ever wanted to invest some of that Brock money. And your permit records are public.”
“That’s not the point, Neal! And would you stop it with the ‘Brock money’ thing? Do you think I would be servicing piss recyclers if there was Brock money? Besides, I don’t have any time built up for a trip like that,” I said, knowing full well he probably had it covered.
“Well, I spoke with Allie and with that emergency retrofit you helped with for the cryo lab. She says she can swing it.”
I glared at him for a moment. “You talked to my boss, about me?”
“Yeah, otherwise you would’ve lost those days. You’re welcome, friend. It’s not exactly the Old West, Ian, but sometimes you gotta make it happen for yourself. Try it sometime,” Grayson took the glass from my hand and disappeared again behind the wall.
The guy was a master. No wonder so many newcomers had fallen prey to his schemes. But Grayson had done me a solid favor. I had assumed no extra off time would come out of the lost weekend spent getting the pumps going in the lab. But then, knowing Grayson, the wheels had been turning all along trying to figure out a way to get me aboard that rental boat.
Grayson handed me a refilled glass of water. He stood sipping his drink and staring at me. He had slowed down on his drinking of late, seeming more focused. Alcohol was a luxury on Titan unless you were willing to take on the lab swill, which Neal Grayson would never be accused of. Only the best for him. Well, maybe not always the best but at least imported, and that was expensive. “Well, Ian, can you help a friend out? It’ll be a while. Think about it. I’ll keep you posted.”
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Copyright © 2026 by C. H. Russellson
