VANAHEIM STATION

BY STEVEN S BEHRAM, MD

Gravity's onset gives you a funny sensation, even at twelve percent. Sarah felt a little nauseous, but she had learned to hide it well as she tried to acclimate back to Vanaheim’s environment.”

Sarah Hartman was barely two-anda-half months old when she first learned how to walk.

Now, some 37 years later, her spaceship, now inward bound from Mars to Earth, was auto-docking at Vanaheim space station at the second Lagrange point. She grabbed her blond hair, made more voluminous by the lack of gravity, and tied it expertly into a bun with the help of a bungee she carried on her left wrist. Her pale white skin looked creamy due to the lack of direct sunlight, and her face appeared more edematous than usual when she checked herself in the mirror. She was the only passenger in the return vehicle during the long trip home. Normally the craft would carry up to eight passengers, but the circumstances of her departure necessitated her solo return. She fussed over herself to look more presentable as her months-long journey from Mars to the station was coming to an end.

Vanaheim Station was her birthplace, but she had never thought she would ever set foot there again. Then again, she never thought she would ever be going to the Red Planet.

Commander Sarah Hartman had spent almost a year in orbit around Mars as a mission specialist, supporting the numerous human colonization projects on the planet surface. The Mars Manned Orbital Platform (MMOP) provided near-real-time support for the people working and living permanently on Mars. It orbited Mars in an areostationary orbit along the Martian equatorial plane, roughly 17,000 km from the planetary surface. Staffed by scientists, military leadership, and medical support personnel, MMOP was the glue that cemented mankind’s efforts at the settlement on Mars nearly 55 million kilometres from earth.

She was now keenly aware that her vessel was matching the speed and rotation of Vanaheim Station. The station was designed as a low-gravity platform, and she could now feel the 12 percent G that was the hallmark of the station. The variable gravity platform was originally designed for the benefit of lunar astronauts. It allowed them to acclimate faster between earth and moon gravity. Now, it served

the same purpose for Martian astronauts and cosmonauts returning from Mars.

Nearly four decades before, it also served as an experimental medical station.

“Docking complete, request permission to access the air lock,” she whispered into her microphone.

“Permission granted, Commander,” came a male voice. “Welcome to Vanaheim Station.”

The airlock system on her craft went through its own checklist and coordinated autonomously with the station. There were hisses and crackles and the sound of mechanisms turning and opening. Finally, the odd smells of the station filled the cabin of the craft. She had forgotten the smell of people and their activities after being cooped up in her vessel for nearly nine months.

Jeanne Hartman, and her husband Paul, had been pregnant a total of five times. The first four all ended with late term losses due to a severe form of uteroplacental insufficiency in the third-trimester of the pregnancy. The doctors could offer no advice or treatment when Jeanne became pregnant a fifth time. Her obstetrician, Dr. Azar, a futurist, pushed for her case to be reviewed by an institutional review board. By the end of her first trimester, he had Jeanne medically transported to the Vanaheim Station, which was a territory of earth. The low gravity environment afforded by the platform, he argued, might improve the flow of blood from mother to baby. It was a very risky gamble, but it was the last best hope of saving Jeanne’s endangered pregnancy.

Paul never left Jeanne's side, and was with her all the time, having her pregnancy monitored round the clock. Sleep was slim for both, but the thought of the arrival of a new family member into their life far outweighed the distress caused from a lack of sleep. This pregnancy meant a lot, not just to the couple, but also to a lot of people back on Earth. While Sarah’s was not the first birth in space, it was the first high risk delivery in a low-gravity environment.

Gravity's onset gives you a funny sensation, even at twelve percent. Sarah felt a little nauseous, but she had learned to hide it well as she tried to acclimate back to Vanaheim’s environment.

The decision to extract Sarah from her duty station around Mars wasn’t an easy one. Jeanne and Paul Hartman were killed in a random motor vehicle accident on the New Jersey Turnpike when their vehicle was struck by a distracted driver. In a heartbeat, Sarah lost her entire family. The flight authority briefly considered censoring the tragic event from Sarah, but ultimately decided to inform her. Although she insisted she could stay to finish out her mission, her subsequent psychiatric evaluation by the flight surgeon led to the mission commander’s decision to return her to Earth.

The problem was aggravated by the fact that Mars and Earth were not properly aligned for a simple Hohmann transfer; the optimal launch window to follow the most fuel-efficient ride home. The problem was compounded by a number of key personnel on leave or returning to Earth for a myriad of reasons. Sarah wanted to stay and do her job, but, in the end, it wasn’t her call. The mission commander ordered the emergency extraction protocol to have her return in an escape vehicle, irrespective of the cost of fuel. Because of the increased time in weightlessness both on MMOP and during the transit, she would have to decompress at Vanaheim Station until she was physically strong enough to return to Earth and to normal gravity. The station chief at the Vanaheim station greeted Sarah at the airlock. His skin was wrinkled and his hair white, but he managed a big grin when he saw her face. She didn’t recognize him. But her old obstetrician, now promoted to station chief, certainly recognized her!

“Hi Sarah,” he said. “I am Dr. Azar, my dear girl.” His grinned widened: “I was there at your birth, Sarah. I delivered you.”

She looked at him blankly for a moment as her brain processed what she was hearing. Her blue eyes uncontrollably filled with tears, but the tears stalled in the corner of her eyes.

He didn’t wait for her to respond: “I’m so sorry to hear of your loss, my dear Sarah.” He embraced his patient from nearly 37 years ago as if time and distance had no meaning on this station. “Jeanne and Paul were not only my patients, but we were good friends.” He put his arms around Sarah and guided her out of the airlock.

After Sarah was born on the station, the powers that be made the decision to allow the entire family to stay at station for an additional twelve weeks. This would allow for the passage of enough time to ensure both mother and baby were healthy enough for the return voyage home. It was during Sarah’s tenth week of life, thanks to the diminished gravity of the station, that something truly miraculous and unexpected happened. At just over two months of age, Sarah started to walk! The diminished gravity at the station proved that babies were inherently born with the desire to walk and run almost immediately after birth. To watch Sarah walk and run down the corridors was proof of the unexpected consequences of space travel. Her images and video clips lit up social media and she became an overnight celebrity on Earth. Over time, people forgot about the miracle of her birth.

Sarah struggled for balance and strength even in the attenuated gravity, as she wobbled in the corridors of the station. She had so many questions for her attendant, but she could not talk as walking required all of her concentration. Her first steps were unsure and tentative and Dr. Azar offered his arthritic hand which she happily accepted. She walked slowly and deliberately toward the adjoining conduit. She turned, and for the first time, she could see the promenade which was the largest single room in the station.

She paused herself and turned to her attendant. “Doctor,” she asked. “How long will I need to be here before I can transit to Earth?”

He motioned to a small metallic bench in the vestibule. He could see that she was struggling with each step. She understood and was relieved by his gesture. He helped her sit and took a seat next to her.

“My dear Sarah,” he started. “From the time I first learned that you’ll be passing through this station, I’ve been dreading this moment.”

He saw the puzzled expression on her face.

“I’m afraid, my dear Sarah, that this is as close as we will ever come to Earth.”

“I don’t understand,” she mumbled to herself.

“Unfortunately, there are a lot of things that have been withheld from outworlders,” he stated as he stared blankly at the white adjacent walls. “Do you know why you were summoned here so ‘urgently’ my dear Sarah?”

“I don’t know. I asked to stay at my post,” said Sarah. “I have no one left on Earth and I could’ve managed my parents’ affairs remotely.”

“The urgency came from the fact that we knew they were closing the borders,” said Dr. Azar.

“What border?” she asked.

“The terrestrial governments are bickering, the way they always do, and this new guy…” he shook his head. “This new guy threatened to permanently close the border.” “The border to space?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes. That’s right. It’s called ‘the Gravitational Wall.’ As a result of an executive order nearly four months ago, no outworlder is permitted re-entry into Earth’s gravity well,” said the doctor soberly. “There are no exceptions,” he added. “We tried to get as many people through before the blockade.” He covered his face with his aging hands: “Hell, we even tried after the blockade.”

“I still don’t understand,” she added.

“None of us understand, Sarah,” he responded. “In the past few years, there has been an increase in tribalism and a decrease in civility. Outworlders were viewed increasingly as foreigners, no longer contributing to the tax-base of terrestrial states. They called us parasites from space.” He looked into her face: “And, then, finally, they closed the borders.”

“And I guess when I was on my way, it was too late,” she said.

“That’s right,” he said. “Almost a half-million outworlders marooned and hung out to dry. That’s why comms are being censored, so as not to cause a wide-spread panic.”

“That explains why so many people were leaving or transferring back home from the MMOP,” said Sarah. It made sense. The people who had heard rumours or who were aware that something was going down were the first ones leave. They left quietly and without saying a word.

“Not just from MMOP,” he added. “The Habitable Earth Ring Project, most of the earth and lunar platforms, even the lunar outposts are almost all empty. It’s hard enough living and working in space. When you hear that you may not be welcomed back to Earth, well, that was more than most were willing to bear. We tried so hard to get you home too, Sarah, but we failed.”

“You said you were helping people get through even after the blockade?” asked Sarah.

“I said we tried,” he responded. “For every one person that was smuggled successfully in a cargo ship, there were two that were arrested on arrival to Earth.” He paused as his voice cracked: “They arrested the parents and deported their children back to this station. Finally, we had to stop. We gave up. We capitulated.” He had tears rolling down his face.

“I just don’t understand,” she pleaded. The cruelty was not just unfathomable, but it made no sense.

“Your quarters are on the other side of the promenade, Sarah,” he said. “I wanted to tell you this stuff here, because this station… well the best of the station has become a sanctuary for refugees. We are multiples above our maximum capacity.” And I’m now adding to that burden, thought Sarah. She got up from the bench, with the help of Dr. Azar, and gingerly limped her way to the end of the short corridor to the main station. The large door opened outward to a more expansive space.

What Sarah saw, made her jaw drop.

The promenade was filled with makeshift tents, tarps and canopies. There were people on top of people. Although the environment temperature was computer controlled, the coverings afforded protection and privacy to the overpopulated group. These were not the dregs of society, Sarah reminded herself. These were all the scientists, pioneers, colonists, doctors, and engineers now delegated to living a life without a country.

The promenade was truly expansive but all of the common areas were packed with refugees.

She then saw all the children. First a small group here and then another group there. These kids who were all robbed of their innocence and doomed to an existence in exile they’ll never understand. And, when she looked, she saw mixed families of different races of adults and little children. These were the smallest victims to have been ripped from the arms of their biological parents and into the arms of strangers turned Samaritans.

As Sarah and Dr. Azar worked their way down the promenade, a little blond boy stumbled in her path. He was perhaps two or three months of age, but looked older. She took his hand and he took hers. As they learned to walk together and to search for his caregiver, despair filled Sarah's heart. She not only lost her parents, but the chance to put them to their final rest. To stand at the foot of their graves and mourn. Tears filled her eyes. The boy looked up to her uncomprehendingly, and squeezed her hand harder, feeling her pain. She smiled down on him, seeing his concern. His mother saw him, and called out to him. Sarah smiled and released him from her grip. The smile lingered on her face, for now, they were both home, in Vanaheim Station.