Sam had no luck blending gravitas into the animas of her corona to make light during the four hours of Cassandane's shift on generators. Combining two precursors seemed about as possible as drinking solid steel. She continued her efforts until Cassandane stood up from the chair and the humming of the generator faded to a tired whine. Once the door opened, they stepped into the rapidly darkening street. Above, the light tube emitted a tired red afterglow that barely illuminated the Angelship's interior. Pinpoints of white light sprang up on the sides of buildings, providing some help.
"This is exactly the situation you want to know energy manipulation for." A ball of light flared into existence above Cassandane, a giant bulb throwing shadows everywhere.
They walked back to their building, where Cassandane lifted them up onto the balcony. Inside, Cassandane arranged several seat cushions into a makeshift bed for Sam, then climbed into her hammock.
Exhausted from the day, Sam didn't have time to complain about the lack of blankets before sleep took her.
She woke the next morning to a ravenous hunger. The moment she sat up, Cassandane spoke. "We have a morning cargo run. Before then we should get you a cot and a change of clothes."
"That would be great." Sam ran her tongue over slimy teeth. "Also, can I get a toothbrush? I've been using my finger since I got into orbit."
"Use your talents for dental cleanings. Teleotic to unadhere plaques and kinetic to physically remove. A closed environment like this can't rely on disposable hygenic products."
Instead of responding, Sam went to the bathroom. On her exit, she found Cassandane already up and dressed for the day in her uniform. They went to the cafeteria at the base of their building and ate a quick breakfast of fruits, nuts, and greenjuice before walking to a supply depot where Cassandane checked out a cot, blanket, extra uniform, and underclothes for Sam. With their new possessions back at the room, they went up the spoke to the shuttle.
As they initiated their first trip planetside of the day, Cassandane passed over a strip of cloth and three balls. Obeying instructions, Sam blindfolded herself and used her corona to move the balls about. The task seemed simple enough until she was commanded to stop vasting. With normal intelligence, the task became exponentially harder. Sam worked at it as they descended, then assisted with the loading of the shuttle. That day's cargo consisted of steel plates and pressurized gas cylinders.
On the ride back up into orbit, Sam worked on marrying gravitas to animas to create light. Her efforts eventually paid off in the most anticlimactic fashion ever when a small sparkle of purple lit up the space. She spent the rest of their ride trying to replicate the experience before writing it off as a fluke. They unloaded the shuttle, then immediately went out for a second run.
That time they picked up several tons of rice, beans, flour, potatoes, and corn. She once more worked her kinetic dexerity on the ride down. While going back up, Cassandane forced her to identify memes being cast from nous and then attempt to replicate them. They unloaded the shuttle and went down for another trip. On the way, Sam dutifully attempted to harden her skin and bones under the tutelage of Cassandane, who seemed supernaturally aware of the slightest laxness in Sam's concentration.
On the surface once more, they broke for a late lunch that consisted entirely of odd pairings. Hummus and baguette slices. Oatmeal topped with strawberries. Tortilla chips hidden beneath a mountain of lima beans. Sam stared as the others dove in like they had been offered a feast. Even Cassandane abandoned her characteristic reserve to stuff her face and moan in pleasure.
One of the shuttle staff noticed her dubious expression. "Don't you like any of the options?"
For a moment, she racked her brain to find a proper, polite response. None came, so she went with the truth. "You're mixing the wrong foods together."
The man laughed. "Can you believe this girl?"
One of the women from the depot responded. "I believe her. The food they offer in restaurants is weird. There are slabs of animal flesh in everything. They also use liberal amounts of animal milk, which is not at all compatible with the digestive system of anyone who has lived on a ship. Their flavor palate also tends to extreme sweetness. You should taste some of the drinks they produce."
"Can't be worse than eating cabbaginos for every meal," Sam said.
A roar of laughter came in response. The man who had spoken earlier put his arm around her shoulders. "I would sacrifice one of my kidneys if I could take cabbaginos off the menu for the rest of my life. Shame they are so healthy. Why don't you put in a food order for the next time we do lunch down here? I'd love to try some good local food."
"Yeah," the woman said, "give me a list of things to get from a grocery store. I have no idea what is good to eat on your Earth. Just try to steer clear of meat and dairy."
Sam looked around at the expectant expressions. "Well, first of all, if you're going to do vegetarian, you need to get better fruit. You have tons of berries on the Angelship already. Get some bananas and oranges and pineapples. And maybe try some fried rice. It always has egg in it, but you can get it without meat. Definitely you need chocolate. All kinds. Dark chocolate. Oreos. Hot chocolate. Oh! Get some coffee."
The woman nodded along. "That's a good list. I remember eating chocolate as a kid. I really liked it back then."
The cargo master of the shuttle gestured to their odd feast. "Are you going to eat any of this?"
"I . . . no. I'm definitely not hungry enough."
"Give her those donuts," the cargo master said. "She might eat them."
"They're three days old, but if she wants them, she is welcome to them." The woman pulled a box of donuts from the refrigerator of all places and set it before her.
Sam nibbled at one of the plain glazed ones, not sure if she was thrilled at the familiar flavor or horrified at the staleness. She ate another powdered in brown sugar, then another filled with strawberry jam. She stopped when she saw everyone staring at her. "What?" She dabbed at her face to make sure she hadn't gotten jam all over herself.
"Those donuts were disgusting even when they were fresh," someone finally said.
Sam put both hands on her hips. "Look, you already promised to get some chocolate."
Everyone laughed once more at her words. They continued their meal in good spirits until Cassandane pulled her crew away to begin loading. This time it was steel cables, aluminum trusses, and sealed barrels full of liquid. On the ride back up, Cassandane had Sam work on making light, with another brief moment of success she could not replicate.
They ate a light dinner, still full from their late lunch, then went to Cassandane's shift on generators.
As the door opened, the boy from the day before leapt to his feet. "Hi Sam! Remember me? Reginar?"
"Of course I remember you," she said, feeling a surge of relief that he had reintroduced himself.
"Centrifugal."
She frowned. "I don't really know what you mean when you say that."
"Centrifugal? It's . . . like . . . you know, when something is a spin move?"
"That's not any clearer. Sorry!"
"Oh. Well, it means something is good. Or fun. Stuff like that." He gave her a giant smile. "So, Sam, can you tell me about America? Did I say that right?"
Before she could answer, Cassandane stepped between them. "I'm ready to assume control, Reginar."
"Oh, right, right. Sure thing, Stateira Cassandane." After a moment, he walked around Cassandane as if going to the door, but then turned to face Sam. "Hey, Sam, do you want to hit the zero-G court some time?"
"Her schedule is very full," Cassandane said.
"Oh. I get it." Reginar opened the door. "Uh . . . I'm turning eighteen in a few weeks. Do you want to come to my party? Please?"
Cassandane's voice saved her the trouble of formulating a response. "She doesn't know her schedule yet. Go home, Reginar."
"Yes, savior." As the door swung closed, his voice echoed in the space. "Bye, Sam!"
"Well, that was awkward," she said. "He's not even eighteen."
"Are you so much older?"
"I'm twenty-one," Sam said.
"And I turn fifty in a few months. Your age difference doesn't seem all that great to me."
Sam's jaw dropped. "Fifty? I mean, I could believe thirty, but you do not look fifty."
"Thank you, Sam. I try to keep fit. Now, since you aren't having a lot of success with the first synergy I taught, let's try to reverse it. I want you to try using gravitas to replicate a material pattern that does not exist and then apply animas to it. When you do it the right way, virtual particles are excited into existence to create a temporary construct. Like this." Into
Cassandane's outstretched hand a metallic spoon formed from thin air. She tossed it towards Sam and it evaporated before it made it halfway. "Pseudo-material constructs only exist while their presence is actively maintained. They require close proximity to the core of your corona and constant teleotic pressure. If your attention wavers or the object gets too far away from you, it disappears. While constructs are limited in scope, they can be extremely useful. Let's see what you can do."
