Outward Borne by R. J. Weinkam Page B

the hull with the
habitat modules to the rear. The deuterium fusion engines had been
ignited, but it would take many days before the rate of
acceleration of the massive ship increased to where they would feel
some semblance of gravity. The arms would remain in that locked
configuration for over a year that the ship required to reach its
permanent cruising speed, nearly sixty-five thousand km/sec, about
twenty percent of light speed, if the calculations were
correct.
    With all engines operational, the
Outward Voyager could have accelerated at a much faster rate, but
its leisurely pace reflected the maximum force that could be
tolerated by the ObLaDas and their land-oriented circulatory
systems. The poor things had some serious problems surviving
prolonged periods of high gravity. The otherwise sturdy beings
inevitably developed painful clots and cramps primarily in their
limbs, if continued for some time, the tissues in their extremities
would undergo partial necrosis with amputation needed for
survival.
    The ship and its constraints, so
different from ObLa, would exert a profound influence the crew’s
lives. From the beginning, the ObLaDas were stressed physically and
emotionally by the unexpected demands of their living conditions.
ObLa society held conservative, restricted mores. By their very
nature, the ObLaDas wanted to do their best by the community. The
hormonal control of their emotions made this commitment physical as
well as intellectual. ObLaDas literally felt bad if they did bad.
On ObLa, this translated into a family and community focus that
valued stable relationships and mutual assistance. A child was
raised by the neighborhood as much as the family. The thought of
dabbling with your neighbor's handsome husband's affections was
enough to make you sick.
    These societal values would be
maintained during the Outward mission, or so they thought. What had
changed was the society. No one, least of all the inhabitants of
the Outward Voyager, was aware of how his or her biology would
react to the novel circumstances under which they now lived. The
Outward ObLaDas were of a community, but now the community was an
unattached, predominantly female society whose members were not
expected to reproduce in the normal way. Here, all procreation
would be controlled to maintain a healthy genetic mixture that
would not otherwise be possible within such a very small
population. So, what exactly was preferred community behavior in
this new way of living? How would this be subsumed into the Outward
mission? The ObLaDas intrusive biology would tell. It was the
beginning of a social and operational instability that would plague
the Outward Voyager for centuries.
    It began to tell, appropriately
enough, on the ships two biologists. LonRi was one of the quieter,
more intense of the crew. Although all ObLaDas looked very much
alike, she was a bit smaller and thinner than most, with a tendency
to wear her emotions on her flexible surface. She took refuge in
her work and was very much aware that the ship was most vulnerable
during launch. With only eight ObLaDas on board, five of them
living in the hull tending the engines, they could hardly afford
losses. Dead or injured crew could be replaced over time and, even
without accidents, the size of the crew would need to be increased,
but that would happen only after she had her cloning laboratory
operational. LonRi felt some considerable anxiety about the coming
days, as might be expected, and it would be months before she could
even get to her laboratory in the Filim Anti-mod
    TekLet LonAtt was in charge of the
major manufacturing processes, most of which were performed by her
microbes. The workshop would be active through the coming years
fabricating wall panels, floor modules and most of the large
furnishings for the ObLa habitats, but like LonRi’s cloning
facility, it sat inoperable during the acceleration phase, upside
down as it were, in the distant Anti-module. New construction