The other woman

The polly we reach at the end of the path is a mirror to my home--surrounded by wheat fields on three sides, abutting the redward hills on the fourth. Martin and I soon encounter our first resident, a young man with an armful of laundered bedsheets.

"Excuse me," says Martin politely, "I was hoping to meet with...uh...Supervisor Valerie?"

The man's eyes widen. "Oy, you're the sleeper, the expert!"

"'Aye', that's me," Martin responds, looking a little awkward.

"You are fortunate. I believe she is in the polly today."

"Is that...surprising?"

"We have all been spending a great deal of time with the engines this last hundred," says the young man, gesturing with his head in the direction of the redward hills. "Valerie, most of all. But come--I can take you to her." He walks through a nearby portal to lay his burden down on a bed, then leads us further into the polly.

We enter a large room just off the central yard. It is dominated by a waist-high table in the center. I look down at hand tools of unfamiliar purpose and piles of parchment with indecipherable scratches. One whole partition of the room is composed of some dark material, also covered in markings. Besides the three of us, the room is empty.

"Whoa!" says Martin, examining the partition. "A chalkboard!"

"I do not know where Valerie is," says our guide. "I am sure she was here today. Maybe she stepped out to piss or shit."

"A good deduction, Ron," comes a dry female voice from the portal behind us. The woman stands confidently just inside the room's entrance, fisted hands on her hips. Her eyes quickly survey the guide and me, then move to Martin. "Are you--?"

"I'm Martin," he says simply.

She places her hand on her forehead in a mock swoon. "Thank Auto! He told me you should be arriving today. This is why I was waiting down here in the polly. I am Supervisor Valerie."

The woman steps forward, inviting closer examination. She looks young for her position, no older than Martin himself. Her black hair is tied back in an elegant braid, the end brushing against the dimple in her lower back. I cannot help but notice her vibrant blue eyes. Her perfect cheeks and plump lips. Her bubs, slightly larger than mine, yet firmer. Her taut tummy and hairless mound and tasteful slit...I force myself to end this catalog. These feelings roiling around in my stomach--they are unworthy.

"So what do you know so far, Martin?" she asks conversationally. "Do not worry about secrets. Ron--and everyone else in the polly--know everything. They could hardly perform their tasks otherwise."

"Right," says Martin, clearing his throat. "Well, I know we want to adjust our trajectory towards this promising planet Auto has discovered. Eight degrees off, I believe? Three light years away. And we're travelling at point one cee. Auto could give the exact values, I'm sure, but back of the envelope, I'm guessing we have a year's grace--er, about four hundreds, that is--before the maneuver becomes too expensive in fuel to perform."

"That is very close to my own estimation," says Valerie delightedly.

"It sounded like the engines need extensive repairs before they can be fired, both the mains and the side thrusters. I guess they've degraded from lack of use over time? You'd have to tell me what those repairs involve, but given that no one's running around in a panic, I assume they should be complete well before that deadline."

"That is pretty much correct. And what do you know of the engines themselves?"

"What Gadsden told me. The mains are four of the BSU-5's. Magnetic containment, antimatter pion stream. I worked with similar engines at my old job. Very powerful. And the sides...liquid chemical. Methane, I think? Fifty-six of them."

"Fifty-four," says Valerie. "They're mostly for stabilizing spin, but they can be pointed outward for flip maneuvers, like this. Anything else?"

Martin is silent for a moment. "I was told that Auto--and a good chunk of the council--don't think my presence is necessary. But you disagreed."

"I did. I like to believe I am reasonably intelligent and meticulous. And, of course, Auto is more than capable of directing all our efforts here. Still...I would not feel comfortable without some outside expertise to oversee what we are doing."

"Don't be too disappointed if my 'expertise' is less than you're anticipating."

"No," says Valerie, her eyes gleaming as she openly appraises Martin. "I don't think I'll be disappointed at all. I'm confident you will satisfy me very well." She looks up at the sunstrand. "It is too late in the day to visit the engines, but we must do so first thing tomorrow. In the meantime, allow me to tell you about our current and future plans."

The two of them move to the chalkboard, where Valerie begins an animated discussion, pointing to various markings that make no sense to me. Ron excuses himself from the room and returns to his laundry. I lean against the table in rumination, feeling very, very alone.

"Hey, Marissa!" I realize I had drifted off, lost all sense of my surroundings. Martin is standing beside me. "Valerie and I are walking to dinner. Please join us."

"Of course," I say. "Lead the way."

Dinner is delicious--the bread salted, the garum surprisingly fresh so far from the Great Lake. There is some synth-meat as well. All of it feels tasteless in my mouth. I consume everything mechanically, and when I'm done I glance over at Martin and Valerie, still eating, their heads close together as they continue to discuss the markings from the chalkboard.

"Well, Martin," I say. "It...It has been a real pleasure travelling with you. I'm off to find a room for sleeping. If I don't see you again, please accept this fond farewell."