“Just because the contract allowed you to wriggle between my thighs does not make us friends or require I spend time with you and yours.” Lantessa knew her voice was louder than the norm, but she was frustrated. Pregnant and frustrated and tired and wanted her ‘husband’ to go away and leave her to her day.

She wouldn’t look at him, but the darkened skin of the dome clearly reflected his stance and mood. Regigul looked away, feigning reflection or composure or possibly, though she didn’t think it possible, an inner dialogue.

“Tessie, as your husband…”

“First husband. As a contract for this child,” she turned her torso for emphasis, “after which, you will simply be a past arrangement.”

Regigul huffed and bobbed his head. He started to speak but she cut of his next order. “No, no, no, no, no. Just go away.”

He turned, took a few steps and looked back. “No,” she clarified for what she hoped was the last time. Shoulders slumped with the rejection, Regigul retreated to the path.

She breathed, long and slow, willing the tension from her body. The arguments, even short ones, were taking ever more of a toll as she entered the 3rd trimester.

“Maybe you should go home and rest.” She tensed at the voice so close by and felt a twinge in her back. A hand settled on her elbow, steadying her. “I'm sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. Thought you heard…”

“It's okay. I'm okay.” She shrugged off the elbow, returning one hand to her stomach and placing the other back on the dome. Cypren moved to her side, showing no insult to her rebuff, and settled his forehead on the glass. “A new outfit? It seems rather severe.”

Crypren wore typical attire for his age: a thin shirt cut low and lean to fit his frame over a kilt of elastic fibers and finished with simple slippers, barely thick enough to be noticed.  It was similar for women to wear such things, though often more revealing.  But the amount of visible flesh cycled by quarter, sometimes changing over the course of days as members printed to fit their mood and interests.

Lantessa did look severe.  She was wearing a wrap that covered everything between her neck and feet except the tips of her fingers.  Dark colors and thick fabric with actual shoes, not something designed to skip about the parks or walk around on the grippy, yet spongy surface of the public buildings.

“Just felt a bit…pregnant this morning.”  

“Ah, I see.  Well, you are fetchingly camouflaged on you today.”  He turned to look out of the dome onto the western vista.  She followed his gaze and her eyes settled on the far mountains. Even in the distance, they loomed tall and majestic. Reaching high enough to hold snow, even when Pella’s lowlands rarely dipped below 38 Celsius in her winter season.

Further down, the white gives way to a thin, jagged layer of green before the temperate zone dies off and is replaced with tortured scrub that tries to survive the summer heat and fires that rage around the planet.

Around the colony, fields of sliver grass bend in the hot winds. Overhead, cloud vapor shoots by, fading in and out of existence as it rises in elevation along the colony’s plateau on the way towards the higher ranges. The resulting winds shifted the grasses in waves around them.

“It really is beautiful, isn’t it. Can you imagine the grasslands on Earth, what they…”

“Prairies,” Lantessa corrected. “On Earth, the grasslands were sometimes called prairies. It’s a beautiful word, isn’t it? Prairie.”

Cypren rolled his head on the dome to look at her. “Why do you come here? I know you love watching the jellies dance in the shade, but why so often? What is it about them that draws you so often?”

Daily, she thought. I come here daily. “I’ve never thought about it,” she lied. Because they’re free, was the truth she kept to herself. She glanced at him and found he was still staring, waiting for an answer. She thought of telling him the truth, that she so wanted to go outside and experience this freedom with them. But only a lie came to her lips, “They’re cute. And gentle, the way they float back down into the grass. If I was so graceful.” She rubbed her belly again, smiling a smile that never escaped her cheeks.

Cypren leaned back. “As you know, I’ve always loathed them. Creepy, gooey looking things. I can’t imagine them in my hair, it’s too horrible.” This drew a real smile from Lantessa. He had confessed childhood nightmares involving the little green blobs when they were younger and experimenting with forbidden love - a love that was never allowed to blossom.

She turned her attention back to the field, watching as clouds raced in from the south. Cypren joined her and they witnessed in silence as the shadows darkened the grass, which shifted in response and turned their pale green bellies upwards towards the light. A few seconds passed and small, shiny flecks - gold mites - began to jump into the air. They leaped up and about, swarming to gobble smaller bugs out of the air as a source of moisture and nutrients they could not obtain from the vegetation on which they fed.

The jellies sprang to life as the mites danced and fed. Launching as white balls, the jellies flipped off the grasses, trying to gain enough height to catch sail and catch a few mites in their travels. While falling, they spread out until their green underbelly is rolled wide and flat to glide back to the safety of the grasses.

The mites and jellies continue until the cloud moves north and the sun’s blaze returns. First the green and then the gold settle back to the ground and return to the cooling shadows below the thick grasses.

Lantessa turns towards Cypren, holding out a hand for support. “Did you get it?” They turn back towards the path and settle on a bench.

“Of course.”

Lantessa waited before she raised an eyebrow. Cypren looked away, watching two birds squabble on a nearby branch. “I apologize for my demeanor, but I have to raise my price.”

Lantessa caught her breath as fear crept up her spine. Not another day, she promised herself. He'd sent her confirmation. She’d made her plans for today. What could…

“I want honest answers to two questions. Nothing more, just two honest questions.”

Lantessa met his eyes as he turned to face her. “Will they embarrass my father?”

Cypren laughed. “Maybe, though that is not what I seek. Our good governor has enough on his mind.”

“I'll answer with as much truth as I can muster.” He nodded and they sat for a long, quiet moment.

“I didn’t like your chastisement of Regiguls. You do realize this child will connect both of you for a lifetime?” He frowned. “Sorry, that isn't one of my questions. I know you do realize this. I only implore you to let things heal. Release the hostility and… just live. Just find a way.”

Lantessa looked away, laying her hands on her stomach and turning her body as she could. Though they were friends, mostly due to Cypren’s honesty and willingness to disregard so many societal norms, the topic of her husband had always been a difficult one to share with friends.

He waited, hoping she would at least speak first. Accepting his mistake, he thew up his hands. “Fine. I went to far. But may I have my questions?”

She made him wait some more, just to draw it out. “One question. Our deal was for the link codes. I give you one question or the deal is off.”

Cypren took her chin gently and turned her head until their eyes met. She tried to look away, tried to avoid his meeting his eyes. “My first question was going to ask about the jellies, why you come watch them every day. The truth of why it’s always the westernmost Park and never the North or South or East.”

Another pause before he released her chin. “I’ll ask about this instead.” He produced a small card. White and the size of a person's palm. “The truth now, what will you do with this?”

She started to reply, but the lie was so frail it died in her throat. So she looked him in the eyes, stern now beneath a furrowed brow. Cypren flattened his hand, showing her the small disk. “A copy of your father's master key. It opens his home, which you can already access. It can open an interface, but those require bioID for the secure content. A sky card?” His eyes turned to the dome and the view they shared. “But that won't get you to the mountains, will it?”

Tessa plucked the card from his hand, his fingers brushing hers is he clamped them shut. Their eyes met again, a moment in which she considered this sensitive youth… Man, now. They were the same age. If she could bear a child, he was certainly old enough to sire one. She though of what life might be like if Cypren were the father. If their caste were not enough to keep them separated.

“What?” He whispered.

“The jellies…”

“Not what I asked. That is not the question. I didn't ask.”

“The answer is the same.” She paused as one of the habitat birds flew by overhead, its wings beating the same path it had probably flown since pushed out of the nest. “I'm 7 months pregnant now. 7 months into my first of two children. Not by choice of mate, but because the machine that runs humanity wishes to combine my DNA with Regigul’s.  Two redheads who are not closely related, rarities in a vast sea of humanity colonizing hundreds of worlds.

“When I watch the jellies, I can feel their freedom. Freedom to fly, to move, to go as far as their frail bodies will allow. This,” she held the card, “is the same illusion. But just holding it gives me hope, tangible hope. Just one more bit of control.” She held out her hand. “Help me up.”

Cypren stood and offered his hand. She held onto it as they walked back to the curved glass keeping the heat of Pella out of the dome and keeping them in. “As a child, I used to come here with my brothers. They would push against the glass the same as I. They would push as hard as they could, each always trying to outdo the other. Each claiming to warp the skin, to deform the dome just a bit more than the others.”

Cypren chuckled. “Every child thought they could…”

“I could.” She challenged him with her glance as she placed her right hand on the dome and pushing with a bit of effort. “I still can. I can feel it shift when I try. The dome, it gives way just the slightest bit. It gets me just a touch closer to the mountains. Just…”

“Illusion. Just illusion.”

She lowered her hand, not willing to torture her overstrained back any further. “It's not polite to call a pregnant woman…”

“Or any woman, I know.” He let out a deep sigh and tapped the dome with his toe. “I understand.” His face screwed up a bit. “I hope,” he finished.

It was her turn to hold out her hand. She flattened her palm, revealing a small green dot on her skin. Quick as he could, Cypren stuck his finger in his mouth and touched his moist finger to the dot.

“Ewww. That was so wrong.” Lantessa wiped her moist palm on her overalls, which were heavier and rugged than he had expected. But who knew with pregnant women, he thought. The dot disappeared, the tiny nano structure particles absorbed into his skin.

Slightly disgusted, though humored by childhood memories, Lantessa wiped her hand on her pants. Then his arm was around her shoulders and he drew her into a half hug before placing a kiss on her forehead. “Enjoy as you can,” he left her to think her thoughts, happy with the new data she had managed to procure for him.

Alone again, Tessa watched the jellies sail one more time before standing back and shifting her gaze to the inside of the glass. “Show map.” A view of the various domes of the complex stretched onto the surface and rotated to match her direction. “Add Father.” The map rotated a quarter turn and added her father’s icon to his location in the administration dome just to the east.

His icon was moving along the exit corridor towards the main transfer corridors and moving slowly, so she assumed he was walking with someone. She touched the map, holding her finger on the glass for the half second for it to collapse under her touch. She touched the back of her left hand and the map spread out on her skin.

Lantessa followed the path through the small forest and past a sand pit full of small, native plants. She took the fork to the right, towards her destination and avoiding the pond where Regigul and his friends were likely spending the day.

She checked the map again, noting the red dot was moving quickly through the tunnels. Lantessa quickened her stride as best she could, reaching and turning aside from the main entrance a minute or two before his arrival. Lantessa followed the path along the lawn, covered in perfectly manicured grass. Children ran about, parents watching them chase and play. Lantessa strode down the middle of it all, craning her neck upwards to watch the kites weave among the vortex kept alive by the dome’s life systems. Then on through to the end of the green space, down a set of stairs and into a small bubble built in the side of the dome.

On her entrance, the glass changed, becoming more transparent at viewing levels while the top remanined darkened against the harsh light of the sun. She moved to the far end, where the noise of the children faded into the noise of the outside wind blowing past and over the bubbles. Another glance at her hand showed her father midway through the green. She banished the map and rested a hand on her belly, feeling the baby wriggle a bit, settling now that she'd stopped moving.

She took up her favorite position, with her right hand resting on the dome above her head. Just to disprove Cypren, she pressed outward, feeling her legs tense as she increased the pressure on the glass. More strength until she was sure her back would twinge in protest, but it had loosened up and she was able to push a bit harder, closing her eyes to focus.

Harder, harder and then a bit more, she felt the subtle flex of the glass. A few seconds and she let out a slow release of breath and relaxed her body. She allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction and then, “Daughter.”

The voice was crisp though unhurried. A voice well practiced, honed to the need of a person who lives by their words. When Tessa turned towards the voice. “Governer.”

Tall and thin, he descended the last stair and came halfway across the dome. He watched her carefully. Always a negotiation, always measuring the competition, she thought

She turned back to the glass. The view was different from her favorite. Here, the mountains were off to the right, the plains fell to her left towards the thick soup this planet had for an ocean.

They waited in silence, Lantessa stretching it out from years of practice. He broke the silence with an impatient, “You asked me here. To speak I assume.”

Lantessa nodded, but didn't turn to look at him. “I did.”

Another bit of silence and he sighed, “And what is the topic?”

She turned partway, but kept her eyes towards her belly. “Freedom.” A slow rub of her hand over her swollen belly. “After the child was born, I want my freedom.”

Her father shook his head slowly, his eyes always on her. Not the kind look of a father, she thought, but the measured look of a politician. “Two children,” he answered. “You know the rule: two children before you achieve majority to choose your life pattern.”

“You could…”

“I will not.” He let the statement hang in the air. “Our family does not support such a liberal stance, you know that. Our duty, as individuals and family, is to support the Matriarch's goals. The population stretches over…”

“I know the numbers. The light years, the planets, the totals. 74 billion people.”

“The goal is important. Our species has enemies, enemies who once brought us near extinction. The vastness of our race is part of our safety. Numbers too large to exterminate.”

Lantessa breathed deep, her back twinging in protest. “74 billion. Do we even matter as individuals? Can I dream beyond the Matriarch’s goals?”

“Careful child.” His voice deepened. “Those thoughts are rebellious in nature. You could do well…”

“What, our governor will imprison me? Before or after you disown me?” She bit her lip in frustration. “Freedom. You can arrange an internship between the children. In the mountains and not just to visit, but to live. I can walk on real stone at the high altitude colony. Support the expansion project. I can…”

“Be like your brothers. You know I did not pull strings for them. They earned their place through studies and hard work, proving themselves able members of the colony.  Bear your children and the colony may see the same in you.”

Lantessa bit down a harsh reply. “Yes, they lived up to their duties.  They rutted and ran as soon as the colony released their contracts.” She turned towards him, holding one breast. “See these? They don’t go away the day after the child is born. They keep me chained to a child I do not want from a man…a boy I do not care for.

“And I blame you. Had I been born into another sect, I could give my eggs and it would be enough to hire out to a lower family. Ten eggs for the seed vaults. Less pious sects would allow me to be remade after the birth. All the scars and stretch marks mended, my joints rebuilt. I could be as good as new and ready to fuck some…”

“Daughter! This does not become you. I cannot change the rules for mine or I must for all.”  His tone settled, “I’m sorry for the condition of your birth, but I cannot give you these things you ask for.” He took two steps towards her, holding out his right hand. “Lantessa, please. I cannot undo this. But I can get the votes you need need when you are ready. Two years. Two years and another child, I… I can try to influence the list of potential mates. Find one offering a better match than Regigul. Please, just two years.”

He waited with his hand out, until it was clear she would not accept it. “What can I do? What can I give you to buy these two years? What price will you ask?”

She wiped a tear with her left hand, before it escaped down her cheek. “I need freedom. I mean more…then this. I want the sun in the sky and real life around me. I want…”

“Earth.” He finished her sentence. “We all do. Lantessa, the terraforming takes time. It will happen in your lifetime, though not in mine.” He stepped up beside her, to look out on the sea of grass. “I remember leaving Oel with your mother. The too of us getting on the ship and leaving. I, too, dislike the stail air after living on planet. Oel was a jewel of a home. Filled with lakes and trees, birds and animals. But that too, took time to create.

“Please, remember. You mother and I, may she rest long in our memories, have given much so our family, our children, could gain more than we had. Descendants of the original settlers always have the most opportunity in a new settlement. Your child will see and experience great things, be part of defining the colony and founding a great culture. She can take a life as an artist, architect, farmer or any other choice when the world is ready. On Oel we were third caste, only allowed to support the founding families.”

Lantessa had heard this before, the story of their gain and how time would pay dividends. Today's displeasure was tomorrow's profit, though those words never rarely spoken outside of the home. Her father put a hand on her shoulder, “What do you need to get through these few years?”

Release, she thought, release. “It is all about you. Or the family, or the colony, or humanity, or emotionless code governing our species. The Matriarch? Let's use the words of the rebellion openly, call her, no it - call it a jailer, a killer, a slaver, a…”

“That is enough!” Her father turned back towards the stairs. “Enough. You're unhappy, but the rebellion holds little sway in this colony. They are toothless and you need better friends than those low class delinquents.”

Lantessa touched her belly, feeling the child move slightly.  She hated it, hated what it represented.  But she feared for it as well, feared it would suffer as she had.  How could it not, being something she helped form, a being she grew to life within her?  They will not have you.  You will not be a slave as I have.

Lantessa smacked her palm on the glass. “Open the dome.” Her father started at the suggestion and looked away, his hands shaking a bit from his outburst. She continued, “When I was a child, I learned you control the station. I asked you then to open the door and let us play with the jellies. You laughed and told me it was silly thought, that it only opens in emergencies. Only as a last resort.” Again, she slapped her hand on the dome. “Tell it to open.”

“Lantessa, you know it will not…the technology has changed.  My voice alone…”

“I know.  And you know. But I can hear the words. I begged for them that day. I cried in frustration.” She slapped the skin again. “Let me hear them now, even if they're only illusion.”

“Tessa.”

“Just once.” The tears were flowing now, running down her cheeks and dripping from her chin. “Just once you can do something I want. Just once.”

“I,” he stood there, fists clinched. The governor, her father, turned away and walked back towards the stairs. “Lantessa.” She laid her head against the glass, watching the tears drip towards the floor. “Lantessa.” This time it was a whisper she barely heard. He turned his eyes upwards. “Colony, open emergency exit.”

A ripping sound, somewhere between a zipper and Velcro, tore through the small bubble dome.  A loud pop proceeded a wave of heated air that blew in through the rift. The vortex turned her away, so she was looking at her father when he was blown forcefully back onto the stairs. She thought he was yelling at her, but her focus was on the tear in the membrane. The dome's life system stabilized the internal pressure and Lantessa stumbled to the opening, pushing her way out. The heat hit like a hammer and nearly beat her to her knees. She managed to remain standing and took step after step away from the colony. She held her breath as long as she could, knowing the longer she was in Pella’s atmosphere the lower the chances they could bring her back.

The grass was waist high now and cutting at her, trying to slice through the sheer clothing only to find it was nearly impenetrable. Her vision faded a bit and the first in the crept in and grew ever stronger when she was forced to take the first breath. The foreign atmosphere, even after decades of oxygenation, remained poisonous and suffocating with prolonged exposure. Though her thoughts weren’t ordered, she had a moment of awareness that she would likely die in a toxic mixture she had been surrounded by from birth, the mixture that burned down her throat and into her lungs.

The sun blazed out in full force, forcing her to lie down and stick her face into the cutting grass, their thin, stiff blades sharp as knives. She had made it such a short way her terror gave way to hope. It wasn’t what she had expected, the freedom of flight unfulfilled. Lansetta could hear the sound of a hovercraft pushing through the air, the whine of its engine barely perceptible over her own coughing.

She felt the baby kick, unaware her mother had made this choice for the girl growing in her womb. Made this choice so she would not have to live as a slave to a system requiring her to create yet more slaves for a culture based not on the individual, but on sheer numbers.  

In the moment, just before the darkness engulfed her, she changed her mind and hoped they might reach them in time.

5 years later

He moves with a limp, his right hand low for the child walking beside him.  She holds just two fingers, the way they both prefer. Another day in the park, another day in an endless stream of them since he retired. It took longer than he liked, but his eldest son had filled his place as governor. The extra years were worth the pain.

They paused as two monkeys raced past, their play bringing them to the ground for just a small time. With the animals gone back up a tree, the girl relaxes the roots only the truly young can put into the ground through sheer will and a low center of gravity.

They continue past the trees, following the path until it emerges near the glass of the dome. As always, she runs over the glass to enjoy the view of the mountains. He takes a seat on a bench. One of the few personal benefits he ever took from his time leading the colony. It is a place of memory. A place of reflection.

The girl pressed her face of the glass, sticking her tongue out and puffing her cheeks at the jellies hop-flying above the grass.

“Tayana."

“Yes, grandpa.” She says with a tone that clearly means the opposite. Turning to look at him, she steps over and touches his exposed leg. “Scratches. Why do you still have them?”

He picks her up, setting her in his lap. “Some lessons should stay with us. They do well to remind us of past folly.”

“They're icky,” she says with a scrunched nose.

He pulled her close and smiled at the truth. “Yes, they are. But they're mine. I earned them and I will keep them.”

She wiggled free, giggling at the tickles he gives as she escapes back to the glass. Tongue out, she points into the distance. “Mountains. The white is snow,” she informs him.

“Yes,” he replies, “it is snow.”

“I want to see. Can we go see, grandpa?”

The older man pushes himself up, favoring one knee, and walks over. She reaches up to take two fingers again, holding them gently as he replies, “Of course you can see the mountains. I’ll take you as soon as you are old enough.”