Rule courtesy of KaiVyes.

10099. Columbia would like to thank everyone who sent their cards, gifts, and best wishes to her and Trinidad.

Cape Canaveral, Florida, Several Weeks Ago

A large private room deep within the campus of the Kennedy Space Center Visitor Complex bubbled with the unmistakable sounds of a party. Beneath white, black, and silver balloons and banners reading "Congratulations, Columbia!" and "Welcome, Trinidad!", a crowd of scientists and engineers, both human and shipfolk, were laughing, dancing, and chattering enthusiastically in a variety of languages.

Being comparatively few in number and often widely dispersed across the world's oceans, the various research vessel avatars of the World Kanmusu Fleet rarely had the chance to meet face-to-face in such numbers. But the birth of Columbia's child was a cause for celebration among the research fleet, and all of the shuttle-girl's colleagues had dropped everything to be able to come and wish her well.

Perhaps the most-relieved were Columbia's own sisters, the avatars of the other space shuttle orbiters, who had been waiting in shifts outside of her hospital room for hours and had been first to deliver the news that Trinidad was a very healthy shuttle-train hybrid. (What this would mean for her rigging once it was fully developed remained to be seen.) At the moment, Atlantis, who had taken on the role of party host given her hull's home elsewhere in the Visitor Complex, was conversing with a dark-haired woman in Edwardian dress in-between bites of vegetable spring roll. (For her part, Endurance was smiling and sipping apple cider so hot that smoke rose from the cup. Even in the American sub-tropics, warmth was something she prized greatly.)

At the buffet table, Discovery stood in line behind Beagle, apparently carefully considering the respective merits of chicken and pork kebabs. Somewhat amusingly, her Antarctic namesake and her fictional counterpart from an alternate version of the year 2001 were close behind.

Along the right wall, twin brunette Russians, one male and one female, held permanent markers as they frowned in concentration trying to decide on what message to add to the congratulatory banner.

"From the Mir submersibles and all at the Shirshov Institute, congratulations? Or first 'Congratulations' and then 'from all at the Institute' and then we sign, Miron?"

"We ought to put the English first, Marina, she does speak both, but it would be most appropriate to start with English..."

On the dance floor, FLIP was unsurprisingly doing a handstand, earning applause from the others who were gathered around.

And over in a corner, a brown-haired boy who looked about ten was looking at the ceiling in apparent boredom. Although really in his fifth decade of operation, regular overhauls and the total replacement of all of his original parts kept the Deep Submergence Vehicle Alvin a perpetual kid, to the annoyance of some of his handlers. Alvin adjusted his large, wire-framed glasses as his aunt continued her enthusiastic conversation with her old friend Calypso, in French too rapid for him to follow.

With the same care and precision he used to collect rock samples from the seabed, he reached up to tug lightly on the sleeve of his aunt's suit. "Hey, Auhnt Trieste?"

The black-haired woman turned to look down at her "nephew" and successor, her thin and angular face making her connection to the Piccard family clear. "Yes, Alvin?"

"Can I go an' get some more food?" The submersible-boy held up his plate by way of explanation. "Endeavour's taking all auf the mozzarella sticks and if I don't go now... they'ah gonnah run auut!" He elaborated, with the distinctive Cape Cod accent of his homeport in Woods Hole.

"Oh, certainly." Trieste said, clearly amused by his enthusiasm. While her own Swiss-French accent and upbringing contrasted starkly with Alvin's, she was always charmed by the younger submersible's tendency to consider her his "aunt" by virtue of being the first deep-sea research craft in the employ of the US government.

Nodding happily, Alvin hurried away, taking care to dodge the various adults as he crossed the room. Unexpectedly, he actually passed the buffet table, where Endeavour was piling a plate with nothing but mozzarella sticks (earning a displeased look from the aluminum-hulled schooner behind her), taking care not to be seen. Pausing, he looked furtively in all directions, just to make sure no eyes seemed to be on him. While he wasn't a stealth sub, he was small enough to generally slide under people's notice if he ever kept his mouth shut.

Finally satisfied that nobody was looking at him, Alvin made his way over to the corner in which the guests were stacking their presents for baby Trinidad. As stealthily as he could, the sub-boy removed his red backpack, unzipped it, and pulled out a box wrapped in red paper decorated with rocketships. Placing the gift among the pile, he quickly put his backpack back on and walked back towards the buffet table, trying to look normal.

As Alvin got in line, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Challenger, who winked knowingly.

Several hours later, Columbia sat upright in her bed in a quiet room of the Astronaut Beach House, going through her cards and presents as Trinidad slept peacefully beside her.

"Dear Columbia," one message started "Congratulations on the birth of your daughter! We hope Trinidad will grow up to see a world at peace. Signed, Columbia, Columbia, Columbia, Columbia, Columbia, Columbia, and Columbia."

The new shuttle-mom smiled as she tried to identify all of her name-doppelgängers from their signatures. "Aren't you glad I went back farther for your name?" she whispered to Trinidad.

The next item in the bag was a red present, with a pattern of streaking silver rocketships on the paper. There wasn't a card attached to the outside, so she tore the wrapping paper off as quietly as she could. The white cardboard box inside held a plush toy of a white deep sea crab with large black button eyes, nestled amidst blue tissue paper. A holographic silver card was fitted inside one of the crab's pincers.

She recognized the writing from her role as tutor to the younger American SCIENCE!ship, although a bit neater than on most of her pupil's assignments.

"Dear Ms. Columbia,

I miss you very much now that you are on maternity leave. I like trading mission stories with you and I hope that I can see you again soon.

You are a very good teacher and I am sure you will be a good Mom to Trinidad. I hope that she doesn't give you too much trouble, or at least less trouble than Atlantis says she gets from me.

I bought this toy for her from the gift shop at WHOI with my allowance. (I did it all on my own and Atlantis doesn't know, it's a secret!) I saw a crab like this at the Mid-Atlantic Ridge back in July. If her human form ends up being small enough to fit inside my hull and she isn't too much of a flyer to be afraid to dive, maybe she can come along to see the real ones sometime when she's older!

Even though I miss my lessons with you, I am doing my best for my scientists and handlers, just like you would want.

Yours truly,

Alvin Vine, DSV-2 Alvin"