Building Harlequin’s Moon by Larry Niven, Brenda Cooper

three Moon Born children, outside, exposed to the coming flare. They were pulling together, everyone on one side on some kind of lever, faces strained. It was a micro-camera image; a slightly grainy picture and no sound. The door jerked, flew up a few inches, and fell back to the surface of Selene. Harry jumped as the lever was torn from his hand.
    “Come on,” Mary whispered, rapt, “you can do it.”
    “Astronaut,” Helga demanded, “time left?”
    “One point four minutes until initial effects, seven minutes before serious radiation.” The AI’s calm voice contrasted with Helga’s high-pitched tones.
    The image was small. One of the children—Rachel—separated from the group and picked up a rock, setting it down next to the door. The children all reached together, joining Ali and Gabriel, pulling up again. The door rose—inches, more inches, and Rachel toed the rock under the edge just as the group lost leverage and the door started to fall again. The lever angled up, and Ali and Gabriel squatted, using the strength of legs accustomed to more gravity than the Moon Born. The door rose and, finally, balanced at a ninety-degree angle to Selene’s surface. Gabriel and Ali held the door.
    Helga and Mary clenched fists and screamed triumph as Ali led the three Selene born into the stairway. Gabriel was the last one in, and as the door thumped closed, Helga and Mary smiled broadly at each other.
    Liren closed her eyes. This wasn’t good—the crew couldn’t afford attachment to the Moon Born. “Okay,” she said, “they’re safe.” She looked directly at the two women. “Don’t you owe me a report on the savannah?”
    Mary turned around. “Hey, lighten up.”
    “It’s not as if we could have helped them from here anyway. Let them solve their own problems, and we’ll solve ours.”
    “You know, Liren, not everything can be work.”
    It was an old argument. Liren sighed. “Of course not. We provide you plenty of other entertainment.”
    “Aren’t you even glad they’re safe?”
    “Of course I am.” Liren clenched her teeth and headed for the refrigerator, rummaging for some synthed milk to calm her stomach. “We all know our jobs are here, and that’s where our focus should be—on keeping this damned ship running until the Selene project is
over
.”
    “Maybe we should all help. The work down there would go faster.”
    “We need to save your skills.”
    Helga raised her soft voice. “Do you still think we’ll get to Ymir?”
    “Not if we lose faith, we won’t. We need to stay pure, and keep our focus.” Liren poured the milk into a tall thin glass. “Now, don’t you all have
some
work to do?”
    Mary threw her head back and laughed. “Still always work. Don’t worry, we’ll do what you want. We always do, don’t we?”
    Liren bit back an angry reply. The crew was bored, and Selene provided fresh entertainment. “Just remember you have jobs to do here. Others are assigned to Selene. Let them do their work, and focus on yours.”
    Liren hated Selene. She hated the compromises they made every day. Compromises were dangerous. They needed too much nanotech to change Selene into a world rich enough to support manufacturing and the civilization of thousands needed to build the collider. The Astronaut program had too much freedom and too much say. It was too easy—the AI could handle complex math and design more readily than a human or a standard computer program. Gabriel and Captain Hunter kept loosening the bonds that were supposed to keep Astronaut caged into its small world of interstellar navigation.
    Liren walked down the corridor toward her office, stilllost in thought.
John Glenn
couldn’t orbit here forever. The ship’s sleek sides were dimpled with space-debris impact pits. They’d lost two Service Armor ships across the years. Terraformers had stolen sensors and materials to use on Selene. In-ship systems needed more regular repair. It was an ever-uphill battle to keep her