Fiction River: Moonscapes by Fiction River

Charon and Pluto on their mutually facing side. The pod had been granted that orbit for the past month and she had determined how that would help her. The Earth-based telescopes still had difficulty distinguishing one world from the other, particularly when Pluto eclipsed Charon. When she turned off the communication network, she would have five hours before anyone on Earth knew something was wrong. She was counting on the bureaucracy to first assume a computer glitch and then to begin formulating a fix. Given what she knew about how the prison system worked, she had calculated a minimum of seventy-two Earth hours and a maximum of six days. Either way, it would be too late for anyone to stop her escape.
    “Entering the Charon-Pluto corridor,” Hydra announced.”
    “Thank you.” Carrie approached the computer panel in the same way she always did. “Check Earth communication,” she instructed, watching carefully as the link was established.
    “Communications normal,” Hydra replied.
    “Thank you.” Then Carrie quickly severed the main wire and the two backups to the signal.
    “Communications severed,” Hydra replied in the same soothing inflection.
    Charon smiled. “Thank you. I will investigate.”
    At the center of the transit between Charon and Pluto, she engaged the thrusters and caused three short bursts to push it out of orbit and toward Charon. Then she pulled the fuel injection signal boards so they could no longer be used to boost the pod back into orbit.
    An alarm sounded. “Orbital decay,” Hydra stated. “Adjusting.”
    Carrie waited.
    “Fuel depleted. Prepare for crash. Prepare for crash.”
    Carrie crawled onto her bed and strapped in. She curled into a fetal position, protecting her head and neck. At long last she would get her freedom.
    “Calculating impact velocity.”
    Carrie laughed. What did it matter what the velocity was? Either she would live or die. The numbers told her nothing.
    Without a thick atmosphere, there was no extreme heating. In fact, outside of a feeling of falling quickly, there was no fear at all.
    The icy impact threw her body against the restraints. A scraping sound surrounded the pod as it burrowed into the ice. When Carrie could no longer hear or feel movement she untwisted from her position and gazed around the pod’s interior. Nothing was crunched. Nothing was out of place.
    For once Carrie was thankful for the engineers of the Earth-Space prison system. In building a pod to last seventy or more years, they had taken into account the possibility of impacts from space debris and built a shell that would withstand a great deal of stress.
    “Image screens,” Carrie called to Hydra. “Let’s see our new home.”
    One of the screens was inoperable, likely destroyed in the crash as it was placed at the part of the pod now buried in the ice. However the screens on the side and top revealed the beauty of the crater her impact had formed. The icy surface glistened in a blue and white sheen. The rim heights of the crater appeared to be at least three times the size of her pod. Best of all she could see Pluto, in all its dark glory, a comfort in the sky.
    Carrie reconnected the Earth communication signal. First she sent her final painting. The one titled Home that she had completed seven years ago. It depicted the pod on Charon’s surface with the Pluto moon in view. An environmental dome covered the entire new crater. Beneath the pod an island had been constructed, and the ice beyond the island heated to form a watery moat. She also sent a message with her final digital painting. Charon is no longer a prisoner.
    Ten hours later, she received confirmation that her painting and message had been received. She disconnected the communication link for the final time. She no longer needed the contact of Earth. She no longer wanted to be monitored or told what to do. She no longer cared whether her paintings were the most popular or would eventually be eclipsed by artistic works