Synova

All of Her Fathers The Ship was all that Malene had ever known and she knew it very well.  As an infant she learned its sounds, the motor hums, droning fans, snaps and pings.  The constant low vibration of the main drive sounded to her as the blood coursing through a mother's arteries sounds to the unborn. In toddlerhood she learned the spaces, the nooks and crannies.  She learned the places of safety and the places of danger and what to never touch. As a small child she learned to read and to understand, to use the computer consoles, to tend the plants and protein vats.  She learned where her fathers went when they left, and she learned where the new fathers came from.  The placard next to the door said, "Cryonics Bay." She went there now because she missed her old fathers.  If she stood on her toes she could see their faces through the small window in each plasteel and ceramic cylinder.  She had no memory of the first two fathers, but she'd asked and foun