Kleppie returned to his quarters immediately after his treatment the next day. The others, Dan, Madsen, and Jensen all had treatment time scheduled in the morning as well but Kleppie had one of the earliest time slots, which gave him nearly an hour off before his class. And privacy was a thing to be treasured in their current situation.
He took his slate and slid into the booth at the back of their room. He angled himself so that what was on his slate wouldn't be so obvious if anyone came in. The new data cube, the one Kavi had given him, was still where he'd hid it in the corner of the bunk. He wasn't ready to look at it, or think about the implications of him having it.
He had another secret. The one he'd ordered for his first gift. He scrolled through the slate's menu and found the icon.
A smooth androgynous voice began to speak.
Education module:
Level One Space Certification.
Kleppie slid his finger across the projection to skip the introduction. He already knew it by heart. There were three levels of space certification. Level one was designed for those working on non-civilian rated ships, working in hostile environments or on stations that orbited hostile planets. Level two dealt with working in space itself, on asteroid mining operations or being a "walker" one of the people who did space walks and maintenance on the outside of the ships. Level three was for those heading into deep space on exploration missions. Certification only covered safety procedures, it took years of training for some of the jobs. But for someone wanting to work in space, certification was the first step, regardless of the job.
The current module Kleppie was working on was called "lockdown procedures, level one." The odds of a catastrophic failure on most Consortium ships was astronomically rare. When it did happen, it usually spelled instant death for the crew and any onboard.
The more common concern was a non-catastrophic failure, where one or more significant systems went down. In such cases crew might have to go into lockdown, staying in a small relatively safe part of the ship until repairs could be made or help could be summoned.
Every ship, station or dome built in a hostile environment was designed to be theoretically self sufficient, or so the module told him. There were two immediate changes in standard protocol for the lockdown situations, the hydroponics facility had to switch to high yield plants and the crew had to switch to calorie based rationing.
"Which plant is most important in a lockdown situation?" the module asked. A dozen plants appeared on the screen.
Kleppie couldn't read the names, which were in Consortium, but he'd been through the module enough to know which one to choose.
"Correct," the voice told him, "while many plants perform carbon dioxide to oxygen metabolism, the algae," the voice rattled off a Consortium name Kleppie couldn't pronounce if his life depended on it, "has the highest ratio of CO2 consumed and oxygen produced."
And so it went. Kleppie selected the best plants for low energy input, high yield situations. He entered his weight and calculated his daily caloric needs. He messed that up a couple of times due to his unfamiliarity with Consortium numbering systems.
When he'd finished the module he shut down his slate. It was still some time before lunch but he didn't want to chance someone walking in on him. Instead he stared out the porthole. The earth was below them, spread out in its glory. He stared hard, as though he could see his hometown from here.
He imagined a sixteen year old Kleppie, laying on the hood of his friend Aaron's car, staring at the stars and talking to Bobby Flynn, the far more popular Aaron making out with his girlfriend in the back seat while his loser friends drank and talked.
"Man, can you imagine it though?" the young Kleppie said. "To be an astronaut."
"Shut up, dummy," Bobby said. "Littlefield high isn't exactly the toughest school in the country, you know, and you're barely passing."
"Yeah, I know..."
"But I made it up here anyway, sucker," the adult Kleppie said to his memory of Bobby. "I made it anyway."
He turned and looked at the slate. There was a lot more to level one certification than watching a few training videos. You had to go to a special college, learn how to put on space suits, run the airlocks, the hydroponics, dozen of others critical systems. Still, he could dream. He sighed, pocketed the slate and slid out. He could hear voices in the hall, and knew the others were coming to get him for lunch.
######
Fox was making his way to the early supper service with Nara. He'd been assigned with another security person for most of the day and the two were looking to eat and catch up.
Fox heard the song, a popular American hit, from down the hall. A Consortium healer rounded the corner, her slate slid into her back pocket, but lit up. The song was coming out of the slate and she was dancing smoothly along to the music. He would have thought that she was so wrapped up in her dance that she was unaware of them, except that as she passed them by she slid gracefully into his arms and danced with him for a several beats before letting go and continuing on her way.
"That's a catchy tune," Nara commented, watching her go.
Somehow it filled Fox with a sense of unease that he couldn't quite place. "Yeah, but that's an American hit."
"American? Hit?"
"America, the country I am from," he explained, "and we call popular songs hit songs."
"This bothers you?"
Fox shrugged. "It's just, where did she hear that? Why is it on her slate?"
Nara, apparently, didn't find it nearly so odd. "Our people are curious about yours," she said. "Since the portal went live, many have been searching your internet for glimpses of what it's like on the planet below. Up until now, we've had only a few videos and most from the military or the news."
Fox nodded and followed Nara into the mess hall.