Saturn Run (The Planetary Trilogy Book 1)

by Stanley Salmons

  “Why did you apply to Space Fleet Academy?”

  “Why do you want to be a pilot?”

  Daniel’s eyes widened as each question snapped out, but he wouldn’t be rushed. Although he had no real idea what it was like to be a pilot he said he wanted to be one if he was good enough. There wasn’t any point in putting it into the Committee’s minds that he might drop out part-way through the course. Not at this stage.

  He went to a special centre to sit the written examination. When he saw the paper his heart dropped – it was so hard and there was so little time. The bell rang for the end of the exam and he knew that was the end of it. He felt sorry for Mr Alexander more than himself. The man had put in all that effort with him, and he just wasn’t worth it.

  Space Fleet Academy? The President’s son goes to Space Fleet Academy, not the son of a hillbilly farmer.

  Then the day came when Mr Alexander beckoned him into Mr Buddle’s office and they both sat there smiling broadly and he knew he’d got it even before they handed him the letter.

  He was so excited he couldn’t wait to tell his parents.

  Mary Louise Larssen said, “That’s nice, dear.”

  His father looked at the award letter with the logo and the deeply embossed heading “Space Fleet Academy” and the magic words “Dear Mr Larssen, we are delighted to inform you that…” and he hit the roof.

  “A pilot? A goddam space pilot? Is this what I raised you for? So you could become a goddam space pilot? Isn’t it enough I worked my fingers raw all these years so I could leave you this farm and this land as a ’heritance, and your momma too, and this is the way you repay us? Five children I brung up – five children – and where are they now? Tom’s took himself off to God-knows-where. The girls all married up and never see ’em from one year to th’ next. And this one – the only one left – wants to be a space pilot!”

  “Father, I don’t have to be a pilot. I can jus’ leave part way through with a diploma in engineering sciences. It’d get me a real fine job.”

  “Get used to one thing, m’boy,” his father said. “You ain’t taking up no goddam scholarship to space pilot school. No, sir.” And he ripped the letter to shreds and threw them to the floor.

  Daniel ran out of the house and kept running for a long time, and the wind tore the tears from his eyes as he ran and dried them on his cheeks.

  The following day he got to school early. Mr Buddle would surely want to announce his award to the school and he was desperate to stop him. If news got out that he’d won a scholarship everyone would soon know that his father wouldn’t let him take it up. That’d be hard to live with.

  He found Mr Alexander in his room. To hide his own feelings he tumbled it out as quickly as he could.

  “Mr Alexander, I jus’ want to tell you that it ain’t no use me havin’ this scholarship ’cos my father won’t let me go to the Academy. So that’s it, I’m real sorry.”

  Mr Alexander looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Your father won’t let you accept a Fynnon Scholarship? I never heard of such a thing!”

  “It’s the truth, sir.”

  “Well, he’ll just have to change his mind.”

  “He ain’t never done that before, sir, so I don’t see him doin’ it now.”

  Mr Alexander set his mouth grimly. “Right, young Larssen. You’re not to do or say anything, okay? I’m going to have a word with Mr Buddle. We’ll see about this.”

  That evening Mr Alexander and Mr Buddle both went and had a long talk with Wesley and Mary Louise Larssen. Mary Louise deferred to her husband, as always. Wesley was far too stubborn to change his mind, but eventually it became clear that he wasn’t going to stand in Daniel’s way either.

  So Mr Buddle made the announcement after all. At school Daniel was a source of obvious pride to Mr Alexander and Mr Buddle and, somewhat to his surprise, a near hero to the other students. At home he was a total disappointment to his father, and since his mother had to live with her husband’s disappointment she came to view her youngest child in the same way. The time he spent at home until he could go up to the Academy was a test of endurance. His father behaved as if he wasn’t there, and his mother said no more than she had to.

  *

  He left as soon as he could. In his backpack were a couple of changes of clothes and a small bag of toiletries. Jimmy Lane’s father gave him a lift to Charlestown – he told Daniel he could make a few business calls there, and he accepted that explanation in the spirit it was given – and Daniel took the monorail from Charlestown out to the airport.

  Any trepidation he felt at embarking on the long journey out west was eclipsed by the growing anticipation of making his first flight. The Academy had sent him a smart ID card, and this acted as a pass to the restricted zone of the airport from which Space Fleet operated. After routine checks it also admitted him through the departure gate. His jaw dropped as he took in the sleek lines of the aircraft waiting there, but everyone seemed to be in a hurry so he crossed the apron quickly and mounted the steps.

  He saw a cabin laid out for eighty passengers, single seats on each side. That was a relief. It meant he could have a window to himself and he wouldn’t have to speak to anybody.

  The boarding continued and the seats filled with the colourful uniforms of Space Fleet personnel from divisions: pale blue, navy blue, dark grey, green, and burgundy. Meanwhile he was already devouring the information in the digital magazine he’d found in the seat locker beside him, reading about this small supersonic, a General Aviation R-800 Superhopper, and all the other craft in the fleet.

  A flight attendant locked the door and there were some brief announcements. Then the R-800 lifted on its air cushions and moved out to the runway. His heart pounded with excitement. The engine note expanded to a roar, there was an exhilarating burst of acceleration, and the craft was soaring into the sky. Daniel’s spirits rose with it.

  Somewhere deep inside him an obstinate voice still insisted that it was all a mistake. There was a Congressman Larssen, with a son called Daniel, who was waiting anxiously to hear from the Academy or gazing in puzzled disappointment at a letter of rejection. The mix-up would be discovered when he tried to register at the Academy and he would be sent back, back to the dust-poor farm in West Virginia, to an indifferent mother and a hostile, truculent father.

  Well, maybe it is a mistake, but if’n it is I sure as hell am goin’ to enjoy the ride.

  And what a ride! He was cruising at the fringes of the atmosphere, travelling at more than twice the speed of sound. Above him the sky seemed unnaturally dark; at the horizon he could see the curvature of the Earth. This was it, the high point of his life. Nothing after this could ever surpass it.

  Too soon they began to descend, gliding down through the brilliant white feather-bed of a cloud layer, then rushing over the runway at California’s Armstrong Airport.

  He disembarked and, with a wistful backward glance at the wondrous craft that had brought him here, he followed the other passengers to a large skimmer that would take them from the airport to the terminal near the centre of town. It travelled quietly and smoothly, speeding down broad highways and through complex interchanges, and as they entered town it rose six levels to pass down the canyons between the tall buildings. He experienced an overwhelming sense not so much of inferiority as of not belonging. He was contrasting these highways, these buildings, this technology, with the rutted mud roads, dilapidated houses, and primitive living conditions he’d left behind. He knew he was here only by the most slender of chances. Had he gone to a different school, had there been no Mr Alexander or Mr Buddle, it wouldn’t have happened – in fact he wouldn’t even be aware that this extraordinary world existed. His mind was whirling.

  There are folk here who live with this every day, week in, week out. For them all this is just ordinary. What was it Sal said? “When they know where you’re from they goin’ to look down on you.” No wonder! To them it’ll seem like I jus’ crawled out of the Stone Age.<
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  At the Terminal the other passengers were quickly whisked away by skimmers and skimmer taxis. He was left standing alone, looking around him.

  4

  The course at the Academy would commence in seven weeks. They’d offered him dormitory accommodation for the period but he’d declined it. He hoisted his backpack and walked to the outskirts of Armstrong, where he checked into some cheap ground-level lodgings.

  He spent the following morning wandering through the local shops. He asked the assistants where certain items were kept, watching how they responded to him. He’d always been good at reading people’s reactions, especially his father’s, so it didn’t escape his notice when these people smothered smiles or gave him queer looks. They didn’t treat the other customers that way. Sal was right.

  He bought an apple and sat down on a bench in a park to think things through. Afternoon sunshine illuminated the lonely figure, catching the blonde stubble of his short hair, his white singlet and blue polyjeans, and throwing a shadow that emphasized the angularity of his long legs.

  On the one hand, his troubled thoughts ran, people got to take me as I am. It ain’t my fault where I come from. I gotta be true to myself. On the other hand, the way it is they ain’t goin’ to find out what I am. It’s just like Sal said: they already decided about you the moment you open yer mouth. Right now I got enough in front of me without that as well.

  He made a decision.

  The park bordered a long shopping mall. He went into a computer store and asked politely whether they had a job for him.

  “Get out of here.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “Joe!” A Security Officer came over. “Show this boy the door, will you?”

  The security man tried to take his arm but he pulled away. “Okay, okay, I’m leavin’.”

  He hurried out, surprised and rattled by the hostility. He tried two more shops and was rejected with similar rudeness. He gritted his teeth and walked on.

  He found himself in a better part of town where there were smarter, larger establishments. He was about to turn round, figuring that he was even less likely to be accepted here, when he paused outside a double-fronted shop. On one side was a range of fashionable clothes for both men and women; on the other side was a display of shoes and boots and accessories. What had caught his eye was a small notice placed in the corner of one window: TEMPORARY HELP NEEDED.

  He walked in.

  The blonde assistant behind the counter looked up as he approached. She was a pretty girl, probably in her mid-twenties. A small badge on her tunic said “Connie”.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, I’d like to speak to the Manager.”

  She couldn’t hide her amusement. “You what?” she said.

  “Said I’d like to speak to the Manager. About this here temporary job.”

  She smirked again, then said, “Wait here. I’ll find out if he can see you.”

  She moved to the end of the counter, keeping an eye on him. She spoke in a low voice into the communicator but he still heard it.

  “Mr Allerton, there’s some kind of country boy here enquiring about the job… Okay, I’ll tell him.” She clicked off the communicator and strolled back. “You wait right here and Mr Allerton will be down in a moment.”

  Mr Allerton was tall and expensively dressed in a fine wool jacket with a self-woven pattern. He sized Daniel up with amused tolerance.

  “What’s your name, son?”

  “Daniel Larssen, sir.”

  “What kind of jobs do you do, Daniel?”

  “I’ll do anything you want, sir, and I’ll work real hard at it, too.”

  “You’re not from round here, are you? Where do you come from, North Carolina?”

  “West Virginia, sir.”

  “And you’re how old?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “And what are you doing so far from home?”

  “Well, sir, I got some time to fill in before courses start at Space Fleet Academy, and I need a job.”

  Mr Allerton’s head moved back an inch as if to take a longer look.

  “Space Fleet Academy? What qualifications do you have?”

  “Well, none really, sir. Unless you count the scholarship. Fynnon Scholarship, that is.”

  He looked closely at Daniel. “You have a Fynnon Scholarship?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you carrying an ID card?”

  “Yes, sir.” Daniel produced the ID card with the hologram of Space Fleet Academy on it.

  Mr Allerton handed it to Connie. “Run that through the reader, would you, Connie?” He turned back to Daniel. “We’ve been doing some alterations to the shop. The stock room’s in a mess, but we’ve been too busy with customers to sort it out. We need someone to do that and give the assistants some help in the shop when they need it. Do you think you could do that?”

  “Yes, I believe I could, sir. People do say I’m pretty quick at pickin’ things up.”

  Connie came back and handed Daniel his ID card. At the same time she caught Mr Allerton’s eye and gave him a brief nod.

  “Okay, Daniel. Did you have any expectations about salary?”

  “I’m sure you’d be fair to me, sir.”

  “Come first thing tomorrow. We’ll see how it works out. When do you have to start at the Academy?”

  “In seven weeks, sir.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  *

  As soon as he arrived at the shop, Mr Allerton took him on one side.

  “Daniel,” he said. “This isn’t an all-electronic store like the ones you find in the centre of town. The accent here is on personal service. That’s what our customers want and that’s what they’re paying for. You’ll be working mostly in the store room, but you may need to come out into the shop from time to time. We have certain standards about dress here. What you’re wearing won’t do.” Daniel started to say something but the manager continued, “Don’t worry, I’ll get Julian to pick out some suitable stuff for you from the men’s range. You can pay for it over the next few weeks.”

  When Daniel emerged from the men’s changing room he was wearing a blue tunic and matching trousers, together with soft black shoes. Mr Allerton saw him, nodded his approval and took him into the store-room. It was lined with shelves, most of which had boxes on them, and there were boxes in rough piles on the floor.

  “It’s mostly the footwear,” Mr Allerton said. “We put the ready-made clothing out on the motorized rails, but because of the range of patterns and colours and sizes we have to keep most of the shoes and boots in here. What do you think?”

  Daniel looked around him and then up at the shelves. The shelves nearest to him were neatly stacked but the boxes on them were a different shape.

  “What’s in these here boxes?” he asked, pointing.

  “Those? Oh, mostly accessories: hats, gloves, carry-bags, that sort of thing. That stock’s in fairly good shape.”

  “Well that may be, but it seems to me it belongs up th’other end. It’s the shoes what’re sold on this side of the shop.”

  The man blinked. “You’re right. Okay, that’s good, I’m going to leave it to you. If you need to know anything ask me or one of the assistants.”

  Mr Allerton didn’t return until the end of the day. The accessories had been transferred neatly to the other end of the stock room and the nearest shelves were filled, although there were more boxes than ever on the floor.

  “There’s a fair bit of sortin’ to do as I go along,” Daniel explained. “That’s what’s held me up.”

  “Okay, I didn’t expect you to do it all in one day. What’re those boxes there?”

  “Ah, I was goin’ to ask you about those. They’re much older than th’other stuff. I wondered if maybe you were wantin’ something done about them.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know they were older?”

  “Well the date is built into the code on the side of each box. It’s pretty
obvious.”

  Mr Allerton went over to inspect the boxes, then looked up. He smiled. “Well done, this is out-dated stock. Keep it on one side and we’ll put these models out at reduced prices. Good work. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Daniel completed the task over the next few days. Then he labelled the shelves and updated the stock computer. As he worked he looked inside each box and checked the picture on the outside to familiarize himself thoroughly with the stock.

  The manager had given him a communicator and the assistants were now calling him quite frequently to bring out shoes for the customers. One such call came from Connie.

  “See if we’ve got 2092 in a 6, would you, Danny?”

  He located the box quickly and took it into the shop. Connie was standing in front of a middle-aged woman. From the number of shoes on the floor Daniel could see that this was no easy customer. He hung around in the background as the woman tried on the shoes. They were a good fit but still she turned them this way and that. Daniel stepped forward to Connie and spoke quietly into her ear.

  “7301 is very similar and we’ve got that in blue and green, too.”

  He saw Connie’s eyes light up and she turned to the customer. “If you’d like to see it in a different colour, madam, we have a very similar model that comes in both blue and green.”

  The woman nodded, and before Connie could say anything Daniel was onto it.

  At the end of the day Connie came into the store-room and held out some money to Daniel.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “She was driving me mad before you came out. Then she couldn’t decide between the green and the blue so she took both! I get a commission on a sale as good as that. This is your share.”

  He gave her a deprecating look. “Well now, Connie, that just shows me what a nice person you are. All the same I can’t take it.”

  “Why on earth not? You earned it.”

  “Now look. When I said to that to you I was just trying to be friendly and helpful. I may want to do it again, for you or one of the others. If I take this money from you then you’ll always be thinking I’m only doing it for the money. That’s not what I want.”