Escape from Earth: New Adventures in Space

by Jack Dann

  There was no sense in asking permission from the Dragon. What we were going to do was coordinate our showers so we’d all be squeaky clean—so nobody could say we were contaminating the water supply—and come in the same time, off shift, and see whether we could get away with a little skinny-dip. Or see how long we could do it before somebody stopped us.

  At two weeks, the engineers sort of forced our hand. They’d been working on a direct link from the pump to this tank and the other two.

  Jordan Westling, Barry’s inventor dad, seemed to be in charge of that team. We always got along pretty well. He was old but always had a twinkle in his eye.

  He and I were alone by the tank while he fiddled with some tubing and gauges. I lifted the water bag with a groan and poured it in.

  “This ought to be the last day you have to do that,” he said. “We should be on line in a few hours.”

  “Wow.” I stepped up on a box and looked at the water level. It was more than half full, with a little layer of red sediment at the bottom. “Dr. Westling . . . what would happen if somebody went swimming in this?”

  He didn’t look up from the gauge. “I suppose if somebody washed up first and didn’t pee in the pool, nobody would have to know. It’s not exactly distilled water. Not that I would endorse such an activity.”

  When I went back to the water point I touched helmets with Kaimei—that way you can talk without using the suit radio, which is probably monitored—and we agreed we’d do it at 02:15, just after the end of the next shift. She’d pass the word on to Elspeth, who came on at midnight. That would give her time to have a quick shower and smuggle a towel up to the tank.

  I got off at 10 and VR’ed a class on Spinoza, better than any sleeping pill. I barely stayed awake long enough to set the alarm for 1:30.

  Two and a half hours’ sleep was plenty. I awoke with eager anticipation and, alone in the room, put on a robe and slippers and quietly made my way to the shower.

  Kaimei had already bathed, and was sitting outside the shower with a reader. I took my two-liter shower and, while I was drying, Elspeth came in from work, wearing skinsuit and socks.

  After she showered, the three of us tiptoed past the work/study area—a couple of people were working there, but a hanging partition kept them from being distracted by passersby.

  The mess hall was deserted. We went up through the changing room and the airlock foyer and slipped into the farm.

  There were only dim maintenance lights at this hour. We padded our way to the swimming pool tank—and heard whispered voices!

  Oscar Jefferson, Barry Westling, and my idiot brother had beat us to it!

  “Hey girls,” Oscar said. “Look—we’re out of a job.” A faucet in the side was gurgling out a narrow stream.

  “My father said we could quit,” Barry said, “so we thought we’d take a swim to celebrate.”

  “You didn’t tell him,” I said.

  “Do we look like idiots?” No, they looked like naked boys. “Come on in. The water’s not too cold.”

  I looked at the other two girls and they shrugged okay. Space ships and Mars bases don’t give you a lot of room for modesty.

  I sort of liked the way Barry looked at me anyhow, when I stepped out of my robe and slippers. When Kaimei undressed, his look might have been a little more intense.

  I stepped up on the box and had one leg over the edge of the tank when the lights snapped on full.

  “Caught you!” Dargo Solingen marched down the aisle between the tomatoes and the squash. “I knew you’d do this.” She looked at me, one foot on the box and the other dangling in space. “And I know exactly who the ringleader is.”

  She stood with her hands on her hips, studying. Elspeth was only half undressed, but the rest of us were obviously ready for some teenaged sex orgy. “Get out, now. Get dressed and come to my office at 0800. We will have a disciplinary hearing.” She stomped back to the door and snapped off the bright lights on her way out.

  “I’ll tell her it wasn’t you,” Card said. “We just kind of all decided when Barry’s dad said the thing was working.”

  “She won’t believe you,” I said, stepping down. “She’s been after my ass all along.”

  “Who wouldn’t be?” Barry said, studying the subject. He was such a born romantic.

  ***

  All of our parents were crowded into the Dragon’s office at 0800. That was not good. My parents both were working the shift from 2100 to 0400, and needed their sleep. The parents were on one side of the room, and we were on the other, separated by a large video screen.

  Without any preamble, Dargo Solingin made the charge: “Last night your children went for a swim in the new Water Tank One. Tests on the water reveal traces of coliform bacteria, so it cannot be used for human consumption without boiling or some other form of sterilization.”

  “It was only going to be used for hydroponics,” Dr. West-ling said.

  “You can’t say that for certain. At any rate, it was an act of extreme irresponsibility, and one that you encouraged.” She pointed a hand control at the video screen and clicked. I saw myself talking to him.

  “What would happen if somebody went swimming in this?” He answered that nobody would have to know—not that he would endorse such a thing. He was restraining a smile.

  “You’re secretly recording me?” he said incredulously.

  “Not you. Her.”

  “She didn’t do it!” Card blurted out. “It was my idea.”

  “You will speak when spoken to,” she said coldly. “Your loyalty to your sister is touching, but misplaced.” She clicked again, and there was a picture of me and Kaimei at the water point, touching helmets.

  “Tonight has to be skinny-dipping night. Dr. Westling says they’ll be on line in a few hours. Let’s make it 0215, right after Elspeth gets off.” You could hear Kaimei’s faint agreement.

  “You had my daughter’s suit bugged?” my father said.

  “Not really. I just disabled the OFF switch on her suit communicator.”

  “That is so ... so illegal. On Earth they’d throw you out of court and then—”

  “This isn’t Earth. And on Mars, there is nothing more important than water. As you would appreciate if you had lived here as long as I have.” Oh, sure. I think you could live longer without water than without air.

  “Besides, it was improper for the boys and girls to be together naked. Even if they hadn’t planned any sexual misbehavior—”

  “Oh, please,” I said. “Excuse me for speaking out of turn, Dr. Solingen, but there was nothing like that. We didn’t even know the boys would be there.”

  “Really. The timing was remarkable, then. And you weren’t acting surprised about them when I turned on the lights. Nor modest.” Card was squirming, and put up his hand, but the Dragon ignored it. She turned to the parents. “I want to discuss with you what punishment might be appropriate.”

  “Twenty laps a day in the pool,” Dr. Westling said, almost snarling. He didn’t like her anyhow, I’d noticed, and spying on him apparently had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. “They’re just kids, for Chris’sake.”

  “You’re going to say they didn’t mean any harm. They have to learn that Mars doesn’t recognize that as an excuse.

  “An appropriate punishment, I think, would start with not allowing them to bathe for a month. I would also reduce the amount of water they be allowed to drink, but that is difficult to control. And I wouldn’t want to endanger their health.” God, she is so All Heart.

  “For that month, I would also deny them recreational use of the cube and VR, and no exploring on the surface. Double that for the instigator, Ms. Dula”—and she turned back to face us—“and her brother as well, if he insists on sharing the responsibility.”

  “I do” he snapped.

  “Very well. Two months for both of you.”

  “It seems harsh,” Kaimei’s father said. “Kaimei told me that the girls did take the precaution
of showering before entering the water.”

  “Intent means nothing. The bacteria are there.”

  “Harmless to plants,” Dr. Westling repeated.

  She looked at him for a long second. “Your dissent is noted. Are there any other objections to this punishment?”

  “Not the punishment,” my mother said, “but Dr. Dula and I both object to the means of acquiring evidence.”

  “I am perfectly willing to stand on review for that.” The old-timers would probably go along with her. The new ones might still be infected by the Bill of Rights, or the laws of Russia and France and Israel.

  There were no other objections, so she reminded the parents that they would be responsible for monitoring our VR and cube use, but even more, she would rely on our sense of honor.

  What were we supposed to be “honoring,” though? The now old-fashioned sanctity of water? Her right to spy on us? In fact, her unlimited authority?

  I would find a way to get back at her.

  5. NIGHT WALK

  After one day of steaming over it, I’d had enough. I don’t know when I made the decision, or whether it even was a decision, rather than a kind of sleepwalking. It was sometime before three in the morning. I was still feeling so angry and embarrassed I couldn’t get to sleep.

  So I got up and started down the corridor to the mess hall, nibble on something. But I walked on past.

  It looked like no one else was up. Just dim safety lights. I wound up in the dressing room and realized what I was doing.

  Paul had shown me how to prop a pencil in the inner door so that the airlock chime wouldn’t go off. With that disabled, a person could actually go outside alone, undetected. I could just be by myself for an hour or two, then sneak back in.

  And did I ever want to be by myself.

  I went through the dress-up procedure as quietly as possible. Then before I took a step toward the airlock, I visualized myself doing a safety check on another person and did it methodically on myself. It would be so pathetic to die out there, breaking the rules.

  I went up the stairs silently as a thief. Well, I was a thief. What could they do, deport me?

  For safety’s sake, I decided to take a dog, even though it would slow me down a bit. I actually hesitated, and tested carrying two extra oxygen bottles by themselves, but that was awkward. Better safe than sorry, I said to myself in Mother’s voice, and ground my teeth while saying it. But going out without a dog and dying would be pathetic. Arch-criminals are evil, not pathetic.

  The evacuating pump sounded loud, though I knew you could hardly hear it in the changing room. It rattled off into silence, then the red light glowed green and the door swung open into darkness.

  I stepped out, pulling the dog, and the door slid shut behind it.

  I decided not to turn on the suit light, and stood there for several minutes while my eyes adjusted. Walking- at night just by starlight—you couldn’t do that any other place I’ve lived. It wouldn’t be dangerous if I was careful. Besides, if I turned on a light, someone could see me from the mess hall window.

  The nearby rocks gave me my bearings, and I started out toward Telegraph Hill. On the other side I’d be invisible from the base, and vice versa—alone for the first time in almost a year. Earth year.

  Seeing the familiar rock field in this ghostly half-light brought back some of the mystery and excitement of the first couple of days. The landing and my first excursion with Paul.

  If he knew I was doing this—well, he might approve, secretly. He wasn’t much of a rule guy, except for safety.

  Thinking that, my foot turned on a small rock and I staggered, getting my balance back. Keep your eyes on the ground while you’re walking. It would be, what is the word I’m looking for, pathetic to trip and break your helmet out here.

  It took me less than a half hour to get to the base of Telegraph Hill. It wasn’t all that steep, but the dog’s traction wasn’t really up to it. A truly adventurous person would leave the dog behind and climb to the top with her suit air alone, and although I do like adventure, I’m also afflicted with pathetico-phobia. The dog and I could go around the mountain rather than over it. I decided to walk in a straight line for one hour, see how far I could get, and walk back.

  That was my big mistake. One of them, anyhow. If I’d just gone to the top, taken a picture, and headed straight back, I might have gotten away with it.

  I wasn’t totally stupid. I didn’t go into the hill’s “radio shadow,” and I cranked the dog’s radio antenna up all the way, since I was headed for the horizon, and knew that any small depression in the ground could hide me from the colony’s radio transceiver.

  The wind picked up a little. I couldn’t feel or hear it, of course, but the sky showed it. Jupiter was just rising, and its bright pale yellow light had a halo, and was slightly dimmed, by the dust in the air. I remembered Dad pointing out Jupiter, and then Mars, the morning we left Florida, and had a delicious shiver at the thought that I was standing on that little point of light now.

  The area immediately around the colony was as well explored as any place on Mars, but I knew from rock-hounding with Paul that you could find new stuff just a couple hundred meters from the airlock door. I went four or five kilometers, and found something really new.

  I had been going for 57 minutes, about to turn back, and was looking for a soft rock that I could mark with an X or something—maybe scratch SURRENDER, PUNY EARTHLINGS on it, though I suspected people would figure out who had done it.

  There was no noise. Just a suddenly weightless feeling, and I was falling through a hole in the ground—I’d broken through something like a thin sheet of ice. But there was nothing underneath it!

  I was able to turn on the suit light as I tumbled down, but all I saw was a glimpse of the dog spinning around beside and then above me.

  It seemed like a long time, but I guess I didn’t fall for more than a few seconds. I hit hard on my left foot and heard the sickening sound of a bone cracking, just an instant before the pain hit me.

  I lay still, bright red sparks fading from my vision while the pain amped up and up. Trying to think, not scream.

  My ankle was probably broken, and at least one rib on the left side. I breathed deeply, listening—Paul told me about how he had broken a rib in a car wreck, and he could tell by the sound that it had punctured his lung. This did hurt, but didn’t sound different—and then I realized I was lucky to be breathing at all. The helmet and suit were intact.

  But would I be able to keep breathing long enough to be rescued?

  The suit light was out. I clicked the switch over and over, and nothing happened. If I could find the dog, and if it was intact, I’d have an extra sixteen hours of oxygen. Otherwise, I probably had two, two and a half hours.

  I didn’t suppose the radio would do any good, underground, but I tried it anyway. Yelled into it for a minute and then listened. Nothing.

  These suits ought to have some sort of beeper to trace people with. But then I guess nobody else ever wandered off and disappeared.

  It was about four. How long before someone woke up and noticed I was gone? How long before someone got worried enough to check, and see that the suit and dog were missing?

  I tried to stand and it wasn’t possible. The pain was intolerable and the bone made an ominous sound. I couldn’t help crying but stopped after a minute. Pathetic.

  Had to find the dog, with its oxygen and power. I stretched out and patted the ground back and forth, and scrabbled around in a circle, feeling for it.

  It wasn’t anywhere nearby. But how far could it have rolled after it hit?

  I had to be careful, not just crawl off in some random direction and get lost. I remembered feeling a large, kind of pointy, rock off to my left—good thing I hadn’t landed on it—and could use it as a reference point.

  I found it and moved up so my feet were touching it. Visualizing an old-fashioned clock with me as the hour hand, I went off in the 12:00 direction, measurin
g four body lengths inchworm style. Then crawled back to the pointy rock and did the same thing in the opposite, 6:00, direction. Nothing there, nor at 9:00 or 3:00, and I tried not to panic.

  In my mind’s eye I could see the areas where I hadn’t been able to reach, the angles midway between 12:00 and 3:00, 3:00 and 6:00, and so on. I went back to the pointy rock and started over. On the second try, my hand touched one of the dog’s wheels, and I smiled in spite of my situation.

  It was lying on its side. I uprighted it and felt for the switch that would turn on its light. When it came on, I was looking straight into it and it dazzled me blind.

  Facing away from it, after a couple of minutes I could see some of where I was. I’d fallen into a large underground cavern, maybe shaped like a dome, though I couldn’t see as far as the top. I guessed it was part of a lava tube that was almost open to the surface, worn so thin that it couldn’t support my weight.

  Maybe it joined up with the lava tube that we lived in! But even if it did, and even if I knew which direction to go, I couldn’t crawl the four kilometers back. I tried to ignore the pain and do the math, anyhow—sixteen hours of oxygen, four kilometers, that means creeping 250 meters per hour, dragging the dog along behind me ... no way. Better to hope they would track me down here.

  What were the chances of that? Maybe the dog’s tracks, or my boot prints? Only in dusty places, if the wind didn’t cover them up before dawn.

  If they searched at night, the dog’s light might help. How close would a person have to come to the hole, to see it? Close enough to crash through and join me?

  And would the dog’s power supply last long enough to shine all night and again tomorrow night? It wouldn’t have to last any longer than that.

  The ankle was hurting less, but that was because of numbness. My hands and feet were getting cold. Was that a suit malfunction, or just because I was stretched out on this cold cave floor. Where the sun had never shined.

  With a start, I realized the coldness could mean that my suit was losing power—it should automatically warm up the gloves and boots. I opened my mouth wide and with my chin pressed the switch that ought to project a technical readout in front of my eyes, with “power remaining,” and nothing came up.