Jul 24th, 2348
Over the subsequent weeks, Richard observed Brenda’s recovery, marking each newly healed patch of skin and each forming bone. With brain injuries, the BioNano's first action is to make sure that memories are not lost. Support systems for the brain are, of course, a priority, but repairing the tissue of the mind and sifting through all the redundant data to make a cohesive whole are prioritized well beyond any work on the body. Thus, for the first week, nothing seemed to happen, and while Richard had a good guess as to what was going on, it allowed his guilt to fester. He learned he could take it out on the frog. It was kinda like punching a thick marshmallow.
Then one day, her skull showed signs of healing. The tech was keeping her mind asleep while it finished its work. Even her hair grew back, her natural reddish-brown hue now highlighted by streaks of darker mahogany – a temporary reminder of what once was, and a marker of how she had once been broken and how she had healed.
While he waited for her to awaken, Enrikk took his first wobbly steps, and Richard felt guilt for making her miss this. Richard was suddenly aware of how mortal his son was. Not yet implanted with any tech, virtually anything could kill him, and even if nothing did, it would only be a short 80 to 90 years before death claimed him anyway. They had to make a trip back to Earth sooner rather than later. They could pick up some help and supplies, and the journey wouldn't be that long - about 70 days each way.
And then, on the dawn of the fourth week, Brenda woke.
"I... I'm sorry, Brenda," Richard stammered, sitting up and cradling his swollen arm. "I shouldn’t have lost control like that…" His voice was barely a whisper, trembling with raw hurt.
The room was heavy with silence as Brenda examined him. His eyes darting with nervous energy, his panicked breaths— the guilt that hung over him was palpable. But it wasn’t his guilt that broke her, no. It was the unmistakable fear instilled in his eyes, as if he were a trapped animal— a sad reflection of their discord.
“I think we’re both sorry,” Brenda finally spoke, her voice raspy, interlaced with a newfound vulnerability. It was evident that their fight had left more than just physical wounds.
“Where’s Enrikk?” she asked after a moment of quiet contemplation. It was a crucial question - their small world revolved around their little angel.
Richard glanced towards their child’s makeshift nursery, where Enrikk was sleeping peacefully, completely oblivious to the turmoil of his parents.
“I’ve been taking care of him,” he replied quietly.
She looked around at the state of the room. "You rigged controls to the food synthesizer? That's not possible."
"I was very motivated."
"Why... the Halo!" she took in all the implications instantly.
"I was aiming to knock it off your head when I broke... both of you."
"We've got to get to the ship. That's going to be a bitch without a Halo," she said wearily, calling up the beacon on the pad. Just about 1km, but God knows what vertical challenges. Don't tend to notice them when you can float about.
It was a long, arduous trip to the ship, carrying Enrikk and working as a group to overcome obstacles. But they grew closer as a result. Eventually, not far from the ship, they hit an obstacle they could not overcome while carrying the baby. It was pretty much a climbing wall to an opening about 4 meters up. Finally, Richard said, "We simply can't risk dropping him no matter what plan we devise. I'll stay here with him. Go make a Halo and use lifters to come down to us, then we will go to the ship together and fashion the rest we need in comfort and safety. What do you think? Four hours? I've got water for Rik and I can do without any twice that long."
She kissed his forehead and started scaling the wall with speed but no flaws. And the plan worked out perfectly. They made three Halos. Safety in redundancy.
A month later, Brenda woke in a fabricated bed in their new 'home.' She was still wearing her Halo, having forgotten to take it off last night.
Her worn-out, routine-torn husband was watching. His heart warmed at the sight of her face at peace, the slight yellow glow illuminating her face, the ghost of an eggshell-shocked smile across her gentle lips.
He muscled up a charming grin, proposing, "How about we start treating each other like partners again and not mortal enemies?"
A single laugh erupted from her, full of surprise and relief. "I thought we were," she paused, "I'd like that, Richie," she returned, using his old pet name with a smile. As she laughed, Richard saw the spark that made Brenda, Brenda, reignite.
They ventured back to their endeavors, this time together. Brenda began with her gravity work, her inventiveness blooming under the influence of the Halo. Meanwhile, Richard dived back into the interface systems, exploring the tiny crevices. All the while, each of them kept one eye on their son, their beacon.
They were back, but now wiser in their personal spaces, adjusted in their roles and cautious of each other's boundaries. Their shared adventure now balanced with their shared responsibility.
Their life within the giant sphere was slowly shaping into something resembling an Earth family. Except for the undying memories of their unfathomable fight, the anxiety it had showered, and of course, the daunting sight of their then-broken bodies.
Enrikk’s laughter filled the sphere as the blindingly vibrant lights flickered and danced along the surface. The memory of their fight still shadowed their lives, but its grip on them was loosening by the day. As they heard Enrikk’ s laughter echoing through the sphere, each day they were taught the most important lesson - Love is a delicate balance. The balance they now possessed.
It wasn’t long before Enrikk grew enough to walk, not like an unstable baby but a stable young boy. As the young boy explored the mysteries of the sphere, Brenda and Richard found unexpected joy in chasing their son down the long deserted hallways, teaching him about the universe, about love, about unconditional surrender to the known and the unknown.
Gone were the days when Brenda and Richard were butting heads - it seemed like a distant past. They had learned their lessons in the harshest and most unimaginable ways. Their love had been tested, pushed to its limits, cornered, and exploded, but it had eventually blossomed. Like a phoenix from the ashes, their love took a higher flight, their trust a heavier weight.
Years passed. The nuclear family was now a well-oiled machine, and their established routine reminded them of the normalcy they had once craved. But more than anything, the sphere was now a home. It was no longer a forsaken alien structure, a cause for their technical debates or a battleground. It was their humble abode, the place where Enrikk took his first steps, the place that had witnessed their soft whispers and loud roars, their bouts of laughter and traumatic fights, their triumphs and losses.
One day, as Brenda was tucking Enrikk into his small, makeshift bed, she looked into his crystal-clear eyes, the eyes that were a mirror to her own. A soft whisper escaped her lips, "We have come a long way, haven’t we Enrikk?"
"Yes, Mommy! We have," came the innocent reply. Little did he know, they had traveled a great distance, not in space, but in time - time that had healed them, time that had bonded them together deeper than the deepest trench of any ocean.
"Yes," Brenda murmured, her voice barely audible. "We indeed have." Her eyes welled up as she caressed her son's soft cheek, thoughtfully looking around their circular home that was now filled with warmth from the beautiful family they had become.