Fat Girl in a Strange Land (3 page)

We are still strong, still healthy, despite our extra weight — we have to be — but it isn’t a comfortable existence. My team got the best medical care, what with our biofeedback sensors and doctor visits twice a week. Yet my knees still ache after a long day on my feet and my back protests whenever I sit down. I could have dealt with the chafing and the sweat. And the pots of nanocream for the stretch marks. But the looks from others — that’s what had me cowering in my dark apartment, living like a recluse.

When everyone is restricted to standard rations, fat people are an anomaly, a symbol of excess from decades long past. Back on Earth, after only four months of increased caloric intake, I stopped leaving my apartment except to go to work. Soon after, I turned off visuals during video calls with friends and family. They said they’d understand, that they wanted to see me before I was gone for almost three years, but by then I was already a stranger in a mountain of skin.

Some nights I’d come home from work and fill the bathtub with water so hot my skin would smart as I held it over tub’s surface. But I’d get in anyway, pretend I was rendering away all that fat as I floated and sweated, and let the water tickle my ears and fill them with echoing sound.

Once I caught glimpse of myself in the mirror — I was always so careful to avoid them — and threw a bottle of shampoo at my image. Shattered it into hundreds of fragments, reflecting hundreds of fat intruders that just stared back at me in disbelief. In disgust.

I cut my hand later, cleaning up all that glass. I could have used the scar-blocker, but I let it heal without.

I wanted the mark to remember: I chose this.

I also chose every member of the team.

We take our meals together — when you have to ingest as many calories as we do, it’s good to have company. The transport’s crew tends to keep to themselves, so it’s just the eight of us, day in and day out. Dr. Salus checks our vitals before each meal and adjusts our intake as necessary.

Tomblin, my oxygenation specialist, starts fiddling with his wristcom, searching for which meal he’ll experience as he eats the nutrition bars everyone’s issued.

“You should just put it on random,” Montgomery says. “That’s what I do.”

Keston, another research tech, shakes her head. “Don’t listen to him. I tried that early on and got surprised by some Korean dish. Couldn’t get that flavor out of my head for a month.”

“You just need to make sure your preferences are filled out properly,” Montgomery says.

“What do you do, Commander?” Tomblin asks after punching a selection into his wristcom.

“I don’t use the sensorium override at all.” I look up from the crumbled nutrients in my bowl and find everyone staring at me.

“You eat it plain?” Keston asks, eyebrows raised.

I nod. “I’d rather just get it over with.” My eye catches the thin white scar running down my index finger on the hand holding my spoon. I force myself to take another bite and start chewing. End of discussion.

Slowly, the team members turn back to their own meals. When everyone finishes, I drill them about the planet’s habitat, geography, research protocols, and project goals. We go through emergency simulations over and over again until I’m sure one day they’ll to stop coming to meals. But they keep showing up, committed to the mission.

It is only while we work that I am able to forget what I’ve become. I can be who I need to be.

My second struts into my quarters a few minutes before our scheduled meeting with Dr. Salus. All swagger and brash energy, Montgomery smiles, and for a moment, all his fat melts away, leaving the person I first knew.

“You should invite me over more often.” His eyes flick around the room and land on the bed before darting back towards me. “Roomy.”

I raise my eyebrows. “I wouldn’t want to be accused of favoritism.”

“But I am your favorite.”

I don’t know what to say to that so I cross my arms and contemplate the wallscreen, lights winking past in silent choreography.

Montgomery clears his throat. “In all seriousness, we need to review the models of Caldwell’s tectonics.”

“I know. We’ll get to it.”

The door chimes. Salus. I code the door open, and she walks in. “Commander Hilliard, Lieutenant Montgomery. I wanted to update you on the team’s health since we’ll be reaching Caldwell in just a few days.”

“Of course, Doctor.” I gesture for the three of us to sit. Montgomery lounges on the couch while the doctor and I take the armchairs.

“The team’s suffered no ill effects from the metabolic suppression or the increased calorie regimen, yourselves included. The fat we’ve all stored for the mission should be sufficient, given our projected activity levels. However, Liang’s body, for some reason, is dipping into his fat stores now.”

I glance at Montgomery. “Liang’s getting enough nutrients at meals?”

“Yes,” Salus says. “Making him ingest more calories could negatively impact his digestive system. Right now, I’m monitoring his thyroid and neurotransmitter levels, but if his condition doesn’t improve and his energy stores can’t keep pace…”

“We’ll need to reduce his shift load,” Montgomery says, his brow furrowed.

“We’ll take a look at our timeline to see where we can accommodate Liang should this become an issue.” I catch Montgomery’s eye and he nods in agreement. “Any other concerns, Doctor?”

She shakes her head. “That’s all I have. I’ll see you both in the morning.”

We all stand awkwardly together before Salus heads to the door.

Montgomery starts to follow but instead of leaving, he swings around to face me. “What’s wrong?”

I blink. Over the years, I’ve learned to be wary of a serious Montgomery. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “You seem distant. If traveling’s getting to you—”

“It’s not the traveling.”

He steps toward me. “But it is something.”

Maybe it is — all the time spent thinking and not doing. Part of me is grateful he still cares. The other is angered my mood is so transparent. I shake my head. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“I’m your second-in-command.” His eyes search out mine. “You hand-picked me for this mission for a reason.”

“Yes, because you know your stuff. Because you have my back.”

He nods, then runs a hand through his sandy hair. “Promise you’ll tell me if it’s important.”

I raise my hands. “I promise.” Montgomery’s impossible when he’s like this, like some protective older brother or—

He goes completely still. “Did you know Mara called it off? Said if I took this mission — with you — it was over?”

He waits for some reaction from me, for some acknowledgment of his words that I can’t give. I look past his shoulder, at the ship’s enviro panel riveted to the wall. “I think we’re done here, Lieutenant.”

He doesn’t say anything. His breath ghosts against my cheek. I can almost taste him, and at that thought, my body floods with shame.

The door whispers open, and he’s finally gone.

Despite our thermosuits, despite our extra girth, despite all the miserable cold showers we had to take to mentally prepare ourselves for the new climate, my first breath of Caldwell air filtered through my facemask is still a punch to the gut.

Everywhere I look is white. The countryside is a study of textures — flat, striated, smooth, pitted, rocky, sharp — carved by wind and sun. Ildri looms to the north, a large, silent peak so much of the mission is riding on.

Tomblin’s swearing behind me, and I try not to pause as I lead the team down the ramp. The orbiting space station assembled our base camp in advance of our arrival. Monochromatic engineering at its finest: all white plastics, gray metals, and black rubber.

Montgomery has Barca do a quick inventory. It’s not that we don’t trust the team who set it up — I just want one of my people telling me we have what we need, not them.

The space station liaison takes great care not to stare at us. I have trouble getting him to respond to me — only Montgomery’s deep rumble consistently commands his attention.

I shouldn’t be surprised. As my waistline expanded, it was increasingly difficult to get people to concentrate on what I said instead of what my body looked like. And being a woman just made it worse. Until this mission, I didn’t realize how important a milestone standard rations were for our society.

Tomblin and Garcia bring in a pallet of charges, some as small as a robin’s egg, others as big as an ostrich’s. Keston follows with sensors and drilling equipment. And the space station dropped off the converters before we arrived.

Barca looks up from the equipment list on her wristscreen. “Everything’s accounted for.”

“Good.”

Ildri is our first project. Then we’ll fan out across Caldwell’s frozen wastes, following the fault lines the space station already mapped for us. Then it’s just a matter of drilling down into the ground, planting the charges, and setting up the converters.

The real trick will be to ensure our efforts don’t cause undo stress to Caldwell’s tectonics until we’re ready for it. But that’s why I’m here.

“Commander, look at this.” Garcia calls me over to the control room display.

She points at the electromagnetic field indicators fed in part by satellite data from the space station as well as our own sensors we set up at the base of Ildri, once a mountain of fire now at peace.

And it needs to stay that way for a little longer, but the dancing lines tell me we’ve already upset the balance in setting the charges. Like vibrations along a spider web. Just the right frequency can shake the morning dew from the silken threads. Too hard, and the whole web collapses.

“We need to stop drilling.”

Garcia’s chubby cheeks look wan through the visor of her suit. “But that will slow the timeline…”

“I’m aware of that, but things need to stabilize first.” It’s too soon for induced seismic activity. The last of the charges will have to wait. “Call everyone back to the compound. That’s an order.”

I walk out to one of the overland barges we use to travel to and from the Ildri site and grimace. It’s not the below-freezing temperatures. It’s the way my body feels in this alien landscape — like I’m walking at the bottom of a pool filled with gelatin instead of water.

The volcano is silent on the horizon. I find myself telling it to hold off just a little bit longer. Let me do my job.

Garcia and Barca join me. Tomblin, Keston, and the doctor are back at the compound. That leaves Liang and… “Where’s Montgomery?”

“He was going to check on Liang. He was manning the drill.”

Of course. I try signaling them but there’s no answer. Some compound in the planet’s crust scrambles our communication channels — something we didn’t find out until we got here.

Damn, damn, damn.

“Stay here, and tell the others we’re on our way back. They need to have the shelter ready.”

I set off at a trot, my knees protesting. Neither one are in the control room — they must be down below with the machinery. I go down to the first platform. “Montgomery? Liang?”

“On our way,” Montgomery calls.

“Now, Lieutenant.” Finally he emerges from the machine room, Liang slung over his back. “What happened?”

“Found him passed out by the controls.” The words are forced out with each step he takes up the stairs.

When he reaches the platform, I loop one of Liang’s arms around my shoulders, and we head for the control room.

“You check in with me the next time you disobey orders.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I grit my teeth at his tone, all harsh edges and angles just like Caldwell’s landscape. I can’t see his face because of our suits and Liang between us, but I know his scowl too well. Outside, the barge is powered up. Waiting.

“We’ll work remote until I’m certain the seismic pressure stabilizes.”

He grunts. It’s something.

The fault line nearest us drives aftershocks through our base at random intervals. We usually have a few minutes warning to assemble in the shelter and wait it out.

Garcia asks me if we should consider abandoning the site. The rest of the team eyes me, waiting for my decision, but I’m already shaking my head.

“No. The seismic activity is within acceptable parameters. A few bumps now is worth it if we can stay on schedule.”

Caldwell chooses then to send more tremors rattling through the base, and I see Keston give Garcia a look.

The team’s abnormally quiet as we wait for the all clear. When it comes, we file out and slink back to our bunks.

But for once sleep doesn’t come. I leave my room to give Tomblin, who’s on watch, some company, but find Montgomery at the workstation instead.

He looks up. “I relieved Tomblin. I’m not used to this much down time.”

I think I should go back to my room, then quash that idea. I’m acting like I’m afraid of the man. And I’m not. I’m not.

Without his suit, Montgomery looks diminished somehow. “Pull up a seat if you’re staying. We can go over the simulations.” His eyes drift back to the screen.

“In a minute.” I walk into the adjoining room and put the kettle on. As my hands set out the cups and dangle in tea bags, I’m taken back to nights in the lab fueled by jasmine and chai. The government may have successfully mandated standard rations for the greater good, but researchers found restricting beverages would have been too much for the public to handle. I dig through the supplies for a long moment, then shrug.

I hand Montgomery a mug. “Sorry there’s no sugar. Or at least none that I could find.”

He smiles around a swig of tea but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “That’s all right. I’ve learned to do without.”

I’m acutely aware of just how much time has passed since we’ve sat like this. Once he wouldn’t have touched the stuff without copious amounts of sweetener. I used to tease him that he should just drink sugar water and leave my tea stash alone.

I take a sip and let the bitterness coat my tongue. I trade my mug for my commscreen and pull up the calculations I’ve run.

“The team’s shaken up a bit, but they trust you.”

My fingers skim through the data. “I wasn’t worried. It’s Garcia’s job to ask and mine to say no.”