"I would," said Victor.
The room was silent. They looked at him. No one moved. To Victor's surprise, Mother didn't seem alarmed. Her face, instead of shock or disagreement, displayed a pained acceptance, as if she had been expecting this moment, as if she had known all along that Victor would propose such a thing, even though the whole idea had only just occurred to him. He had said nothing to her about his need to leave, about how his love for Janda had made it impossible for him to stay here. But from the look on her face, Mother somehow already knew.
He would apologize to her later in private for his suggesting to leave without first consulting with her and Father. But he knew, even as he considered this, that if he had conceived the idea beforehand, he wouldn't have mentioned it to them first. Not because he didn't respect them or because he thought they might object, but because it would mean admitting to their faces that he was leaving them, which he knew would break their hearts.
But wasn't it crueler to do it here, in front of everyone, where Mother and Father couldn't contest the matter as they would in private? No. Because here they could set emotion aside. Here, in the presence of everyone, it was easier to think of the greater need.
"I know it's dangerous," said Victor. "I know it sounds next to impossible. But if it can be done, aren't we morally obligated to do it? We can't rely on a single method of warning, particularly one as uncertain as an Earth-bound laserline. We need a backup. There are all kinds of considerations, I know. I wouldn't have greaves or a fuge or simulated gravity. So muscle atrophy is a concern, as is bone density, and blood volume. But if anyone is going to attempt a trip like that and put that much strain on a body it should be me. I'm young. I'm healthy. I'm at my prime. Plus I was born in space. I have an advantage over those of you who are older and were born on Earth and whose bodies have had to adjust. More importantly, I can make repairs. If anything happens to the rockets or the shields, I can fix them. No one knows quickships better than me."
"We can't afford to let Vico go," said Dreo. "He's too valuable a mechanic."
"We can't afford not to let me go," said Victor. "Everything we know so far about this alien ship suggests that it's a threat, maybe to the entire human race. This is bigger than El Cavador, bigger than all of us. Father knows more about this ship than I do. If something breaks, he can fix it. You have Mono, too. He's small, but he's incredibly capable. We can't think about what's best for us anymore. This is about Earth now, about home."
He had never called Earth home before, not out loud anyway. No one did, even those who had been born there. El Cavador was their home. The Kuiper Belt was home. But no one argued the point. They all agreed that their deeper allegiance lay with Earth.
"He's right," said Concepcion. "If Victor can prove that a quickship flight is possible, for the sake of Earth, we should do it. I suggest we set out for Weigh Station Four immediately while Victor prepares one of the quickships. Once it's ready, we'll decelerate enough to drop him off and continue on to Weigh Station Four. If there are objections or better ideas, let's hear them
now."
The crew was silent. Mother remained still, watching Concepcion. Father put a hand on Victor's shoulder.
"Then let's move," said Concepcion.
*
Victor worked for two weeks on the quickship in the cargo bay. Building the shields was the hardest part. Since he wouldn't be attempting any atmospheric entry, he could make the shields as heavy as they needed to be, which was good. He worried about cosmic rays penetrating the shields and interacting with the metal to form radioactive neutrons, so the thicker the better. He didn't stop there, however. He also installed water tanks all along the cockpit's interior to create another layer of protection. Then he packed radiation detection equipment and additional shield plates and tools in case he needed to make adjustments en route.
Mono helped of course, doing simple welding and cutting jobs, all while trying to convince Victor that he, Mono, should be allowed to come along. "What if you get hurt?" Mono asked one morning. "What if something happens to your suit? You might need someone to help you."
"I can't think of anyone I'd rather have at my side, Mono," said Victor. "But you can't come. It's too dangerous."
"Why is it too dangerous for me but not too dangerous for you?"
"It is dangerous for me. But I'm bigger. My body can take more of the abuse."
"I'm tough," said Mono, offended. "I can take abuse."
"It has nothing to do with toughness," said Victor. "It's more about body size and structure. You can't help how small you are. You're only nine. And believe me, it's not the kind of trip you'd want to go on anyway. It will be extremely boring. You know how it feels to be grounded to your room for a day?"
"It's cruel and unusual punishment."
"Right. Try doing that for two hundred and twenty days or so. No birthday parties. No Christmas. No playing with friends. No time with your parents. No fun repairs on the ship. No exploring. No desserts or cookies or fun treats. I won't even get to chew my food. I'll have to suck up vitamin mush through a straw in my helmet."
Mono made a face. "Gross. I hate that stuff."
"You and me both," said Victor. "And I'll be eating it every day for seven months. With no seasoning, no spreading it on bread to make it tolerable, no mixing it with sugary oatmeal, just straight, bland mush. Plus I have to wear a catheter and another device that's so disgusting that I'm not even going to explain what it is or how it works. Suffice it to say, it won't be comfortable. Then there's the abuse. My bones will thin and become susceptible to fracture. My muscles will weaken. My vertebrae will spread apart. My discs will swell with fluid, giving me backaches. I'll likely have decreased blood volume; maybe calcium deposits as my bones weaken, which will likely gather in my kidneys and result in stones; fatigue; not to mention possible impotency from radiation exposure."
"What's impotency?"
"Means I wouldn't be able to have children. But I'm hoping that's not the case. That's why we've got the shields and water tanks. My point is, it's not a party."
"But you'd be with me," said Mono. "That would be fun at least."
Victor smiled. "Trust me, Mono. You'd get sick of me. I'm pretty certain that I'll get sick of me."
Mono hung his head and began to cry. "I don't want you to go, Vico. I don't want you to get sick."
Victor set down his tools and floated over to Mono. "Hey, monkey brains. I'm going to be fine. I'm exaggerating everything. Isabella has all kinds of pills for me to take throughout the trip that will counter a lot of the discomfort. I'm not going to get sick. I may need some gym time once I arrive to get the muscles back up, but I'll be fine."