Analog Science Fiction and Fact - June 2013

ANALOG
Adrienne to bat at the semi-floating intruder.
“Tell me what is this?” Katya asked. She
glanced at R-Eva’s head, then looked up to Antoniy.
Antoniy stammered and tried not to direct
his gaze where he most wanted to look.
Katya’s degree in electrical engineering had
not stunted her femininity, nor her ability to
monopolize the thoughts of a man. Enzo felt
bad for Adrienne’s discomfort and wondered
what might happen to a more serious competitor
for Antoniy’s attention. He took his filtrate
and left, wisely deciding there was no
further need of his presence.
Enzo looked at the eight CC of filtrate. Collecting
enough to plant a tomato would take
time, but as long as the crew continued to
shed their skin he’d eventually have a bowl of
nutritionally deficient organic dust.
Enzo knew the creation of soil would be
classified as an unsanctioned biological experiment.
Any number of PhDs would actively
object to the skunk-works project when
their research was being delayed. Station operations
didn’t care about PhD empire-building
concerns, but they sure as hell would
strongly discourage anything with a potential
to cause a clean-room failure. He thought it
best to keep things quiet.
But filtrate wasn’t fertile soil. As a boy, he
carried compost to all corners of the fattoria.
He blamed the unending job for his mental
block of agriculture and resulting civil engineering
degree, but fully understood the necessity.
Tomatoes would need minerals and
organics. He pondered stealing chemicals
from the hydroponics lab, but that would be
difficult and somewhat contrary to his self-imposed
rules of the game—an unfair shortcut.
He needed rotting vegetables.
“Olya, what do you do with the food wastes?
How do you break it down for the plants in hydroponics?”
Enzo queried the cook over dinner.
Dmitry quietly shoveled in his food.
Olya reached across Dmitry’s plate for the
saltshaker, shook it and wetted a finger to
pick up the small amount. Licking it from her
finger, she pointed her blue eyes at Enzo.
“Incinerator. Too much spices and meat.
Wrecks hydroponics then no dermo tomato
for Dmitry.”
She looked at Dmitry, who smiled at being
mentioned but continued to focus on his
plate of food.
Later, Enzo found an opportunity to wander
past the kitchen. “Chort voz’mi!” Olya’s voice
rose amidst a chorus of buzzers and the clatter
of a dropped bowl. She bent to scoop up
the spilled pan of re-hydrating textured vegetable
protein.
“Can I help?” Enzo asked.
Olya jumped and spun to face Enzo, suddenly
aware of his presence. “Nyet. This is
fine. You are back, would you like coffee?”
“Um . . . I hoped to find out more about
food wastes,” Enzo asked. “I’m doing some research
and hoped to get some samples.”
“Antoniy says you collect moosor,” Olya
leaned back on the counter, holding the pan
of scooped-up TVP. “You need more? You like
messy room, garbage lying around?”
“Uh, I’m . . . doing some research on . . .”
“You are not good liar, Enzo,” Olya put
down the pan and wiped her hands. “You
have dust, now you need old food. Tell me
what you research.”Olya flashed a smile, melting
Enzo’s self-reserve.
“Er. Okay . . . I’m going to grow tomatoes,”
admitted Enzo. “The dust and food waste are
for making soil. When I have enough, I’ll plant
seeds, and then surprise Dmitry with a real
soil-grown tomato.”
Enzo stopped, knowing the space station
owners wouldn’t want to hear about soil being
created on-board. Perpetrators would likely
be sent Earthside and Olya was now in the
uncomfortable position of either informant or
collaborator.
“Soil tomato for Dmitry?” Olya crossed her
arms and smirked at Enzo. Her lips worked
side to side, mirroring the thoughts behind
her eyes.
“I like,” Olya said. “I supply ground up vegetable
scrap, rescued from trash of sloppy
eaters. No meat. How much you need?”
Enzo needed far less than Olya supplied.
Perhaps Olya was interested in gaining Dmitry’s
attention. Like Antoniy, Dmitry was shy,
but the sisters appeared to like the hard-to-get
Russian boys.
“How is research?” Olya often whispered to
Enzo, but only when Dmitry was out of
earshot.
10 MARK NIEMANN-ROSS