Stepping Up

by Robert Culp

  “I found a hottie who wants your body. Is that a problem for you?”

  “A hottie? Hmm, let me think about it. There, I’ve thought about it. Hells to the no! Not a problem at all!” I pass on Anya’s code. “Thanks for the hot tip. I’ll talk to you later.” The connection breaks.

  And Anya’s perCom trills. Girlfriend has fast fingers.

  Gwen comes around the corner with a knap sack on her back and her teddy bear under her arm as Anya answers the call. Gwen turns her empty stare on me and asks, “Will Shawna and Anya have lesbian sex? And what’s a ‘big honking strap on?’”

  Anya halts in mid-sentence, her face as red as a heating coil. I take Gwen by the hand as we wave and head for the door.

  Gwen starts to choke up. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

  Anya reaches out to her, her face very red. She says, “Hang on a second,” into her perCom before laying it on the table. She hugs Gwen fiercely. “You did nothing wrong, Gwendolyn. I will see you soon, probably at breakfast. You are trying to learn—never apologize for that.” Gwen returns her hug. Anya kisses her on the cheek and we leave, taking the lift to B deck.

  “Okay, Peanut, the answer to your first question is ‘I don’t know, but probably.’ To your second question, ask me again in about ten years. You are free to ask me anything. I mean that—no limits. But there are some things that are best discussed in private. Usually, anything involving sex or relationships between people is in that category.” The doors to the lift open and the four people aboard move around to make room for us. “We’ll finish this in the room.” We catch up over trivial things on the walk to my—our—stateroom. When we get there, while she is putting her things away, I continue the explanation I started previously. While I would never discuss human sexuality in such frank terms with a human child, Gwen is not a human child.

  “I see. When will I know what I am?”

  “Well, in the first place you should have many years before you need to worry about that. We’re guessing you’re about six human years old. You don’t need to be considering sex until you are at least in your late teens. The Captain tells me you are going through puberty, which is the transition from ‘child’ to ‘adult.’ Your mind is progressing, altering itself. Your body will do the same thing. You will grow taller, your hips will widen, and your breasts will grow. So you don’t need to have your sexuality worked out before then. But to answer your question, there’s no way of pointing to a calendar and saying ‘by here.’ But from now until you die, if you are asked, just politely remind whoever is asking that it’s none of their business. That’s one of the reasons our residences have doors and curtains—because it’s a private matter. Your sexuality has no bearing on your value as a person.”

  She looks away, apparently processing what I said. “Ok, I think I understand. We’ll talk more about it later.

  “Good. So, for more mundane issues, do you need help with homework or anything?” I ask.

  “Homework… let’s see… yes, please. Astrophysics, Chapter Twelve. Anya wants me to write a fourteen-hundred word essay on Magnetic Polarity Shift in Wormholes.”

  “And it’s due…”

  “In the morning.”

  “And it was assigned…”

  “Two weeks ago.”

  “And you’ve done…”

  “Nothing.”

  I believe student procrastination is a universal constant. I’ll help her with her research, grammar, and the mechanics of the paper as much as she’ll let me. I won’t write it for her. After three hours, I turn out the lights. She has most of the work done. Her rough draft is good. As good as I…did she probe my mind for her paper? Oh that’s so not fair! And I can’t prove it!

  The next morning, Anya comes dancing into the chow hall, higher than if she’d inhaled a cubic kilometer of helium. I look bleary-eyed at her over the brim of my steaming coffee mug. “Good morning. I trust you had a pleasant evening?”

  She kisses Gwen on top of her head and is aiming for my lips, but I turn and she gets my cheek. “Thanks, Sonia!!” She looks at Gwen for a moment. “Uh…for the gift, it was the best present ever.”

  Gwen turns alabaster eyes to Anya. “She didn’t give you a gift. She set you up with Shawna. I know, I know, don’t say the rest in public.” She turns back to her grits, eggs, and bacon. She’s not exactly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed either. Typically, she eats with certain gusto; it’s strictly mechanical this morning.

  To Anya, I say: “You’re welcome.” To Gwen I say: “You’re learning.” To any gods listening, I say: “It’s a start.” The wall clock chimes 0730. “Off you two, the day is starting.” I kiss Gwen’s cheek. “I’ll take care of the dishes.” I pick up our trays for return.

  “Are you going to tell Anya about my paper?”

  Anya looks at her suspiciously, shifting her gaze between the two of us.

  “No, I am not. You are.”

  Gwen sighs heavily.

  “Is there something you need to tell me, Gwendolyn?” I hear Anya ask as I leave the room.

  At the next staff meeting, our situation is laid out for the department heads. Night Searcher begins preparations for the long journey back to the Ramaris Sector. The Captain lays out the plan. Now that the navigators know where the ship is, they have calculated a course, with two stops planned along the way. The first is Yorktown in The Solomon Reaches, then on to Baetus in Isis’s Veil, then we will enter sector 031, the Ramaris sector. The whole trip is projected to take nine months. The intervening stops are projected to last two weeks each. That should be enough time to replenish our food banks, revitalize air and water, and get some off-ship time to prevent homicidal cabin fever. Aria will post a summary of this to the casCom pages. For any who wish it, a complete text version will be available for download. We’ll also have to find a way to keep the engines running without access to dry dock facilities. That’s going to be a challenge.

  Meals and rations are cut by one-fourth until the pantries can be restored. No one is happy, but everyone understands. Once we can go grocery shopping in Yorktown though, that restriction should be lifted or at least eased.

  When Aria asks for comments, I pose a question: “I’m sure someone has already thought of this, but do we want to stock up here before we head home? Between you and me, I think BaineRa’ah IV would be the better choice. Kretor has me spooked a bit.”

  “We already have, but it was not much. We are in nominal rather than optimal condition. We topped off the fresh water tanks and gathered a few tons of fruit and vegetables. The restriction is more in case of another journey mishap.”

  After the meeting, but before her broadcast, I corner Aria. “I just realized, in one of my last interviews with the Captain, he said he wants to die at home. Are we afraid that’s coming?”

  “Possibly, who can say? From the moment you organics are born, death is a possibility.” Well aren’t you just a little ray of sunshine?

  Later I brief the entire Engineering Department: “Here’s our situation: We’re going to be pushing the ship long and hard. As I understand the plan, we will have two weeks of down time between Transits. Hear me now: I am not promising that during those two weeks we will not all—I say again ‘all’—be down here up to our elbows in conduit, plasteel and uronium dust. What I want to know right now is what can we expect to go wrong on these extra-long Transits? We are not accustomed to pushing our girl that hard for that long.”

  Viggo has lots of ideas of things that can go wrong. He’s not just being pessimistic; they are valid concerns, and we get out the white boards to plan for them. Everyone seems confident, but not overly so, that we will be able to handle whatever can come our way. Except for the Very Very Bad Things. We generate some new protocols and inspection schedules to deal with mishaps before they can become catastrophes. Then Ginny raises a very good point: “If we’re down here splitting our asses sideways, while everyone else is passed out drunk at the beach, I tell you now I’m going to develop a signific
ant attitude problem.” Several others nod in agreement.

  “I have it on good authority that when we need some ‘here hold this’ or ‘pass me that’ hands, they will be provided. I have also padded my estimates, so if we finish on schedule, we should all be able to get out of the ship for at least two days.” That lifts the mood a little bit.

  My teams assure me things are as solid as they can be made. Ginny reminds me that interstellar travel is filled with long boring periods. I agree. It’s the moments of mind-numbing terror I’m hoping to avoid. At the appropriate time the Transit engines roar to life propelling Night Searcher towards Yorktown and eventually home.

  On the morning of our third day in Transit, Gwen and I are playing Cat’s Cradle when I get a call from Aria. “Sonia, come to the conference room please. Bring Gwen.”

  There wasn’t anything in her tone to suggest something wrong, so we show up in our comfortable clothes. Aria tells us that the disk we found is giving off some new and odd vibrations. Normal scanning reveals nothing other than the irregular patterns, so she wants Gwen to see if she can sense anything. I look to Gwen, she shrugs, and we turn to go. “The Captain has been transferred to TMOD. He had a stroke last night,” Aria says behind me.

  That will stop anyone in her footsteps. I turn back to Aria and say, “Unfortunate.” There’s a shoe that hasn’t fallen yet. “What are you not telling me?”

  Aria does something I’ve never seen an android do before or since: she stalls. “There are…legalities being considered. Such information will be published as it is defined.”

  My inner voices says, “Lass, ye won’t like the outcome.”

  Gwen and I walk to the cargo bay where the disk is being stored. When we get there I tell her, “I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to help you, but if you can think of anything, let me know.”

  Gwen walks around the disk, her eyes oriented on the central glowing ball. “Someone is calling from inside, but not from inside.” I start to ask her what she means, when her eyes suddenly turn a shade of green, chartreuse. She turns and looks at me— square on. She shoots her hand at me, palm outward. Unseen hands throw me against the wall. A deep voice rasps from her mouth, “I am Azazeel. I do not care who you are, but this object is mine. Bring it to the pyramid on the planet. Then you may have this child back.” Her voice sounds like gravel on plywood.

  I can’t move. I’m a rabbit staring at a python. Please don’t hurt her! “I need to know where the pyramid is. Give me the coordinates. I will do everything in my power to get the disk to you.”

  “I have taken this vessel out of Transit. Bring my disk to the planet below. As you measure such things, seventy degrees, fifty-one minutes south, one hundred-sixty-six degrees, forty minutes east. It is in the southern polar region. Dress warmly.” I’ve never heard a demon laugh, but I can imagine what it probably sounds like after the noise that spews from Gwen’s mouth. “This child will accompany you, so you can receive my instructions.” The sound stops, Gwen’s head falls forward, but she remains standing. The invisible hands release me. I reach for my perCom to call Aria. Mommy! Help me! Did I just hear that?

  I surprise myself by how calm I am. I tell Aria everything that has happened. “I’m going on that mission. I want Landers to fly, and Troopers Watson and Jones with me. I’d like Anya to go also. I need the disk and Gwen moved to the shuttle. When do we get into orbit?”

  “Forty-five minutes. Your crew assignments are acknowledged. HAZBOTs are being dispatched to move the disk. I was curious why we were out of Transit.”

  As I’m running for my stateroom, on the ship-wide intercom I hear, “Prepare Mission Launch two for departure. Pilot Landers, Troopers Jones and Watson, crewmember Anya, report to the small craft bay, Report to…Chief MacTaggert.”

  I call Viggo. “How many suits of the new armor do you have?”

  “I have the one you used when we met and two others right now, so three ready. In an hour I can have a fourth.”

  “You have thirty minutes. Have them all moved to the small craft bay. MacTaggert out.”

  My perCom bleeps with a call from Sherri. I’m preparing to answer it when I get another from Jonesy. I ignore both voice calls and tap out a textCom to the pair of them: Pack cold weather gear just in case. The new armor should keep you plenty warm. In the stateroom, I dash through grabbing my own inner suit and a hat and snowsuit for Gwen. I didn’t think to check her for mobility. I grab my weapons duffle and sling it over the other shoulder, then run to supply and grab a parka for her just in case. I call Anya. “I’m guessing it’s outside your expertise, but if you have a favored weapon, I’d recommend bringing it.”

  “I took Basic Pistol Marksmanship. I’ll bring my 9mm, how many bullets should I bring?”

  How would Freddie answer that? Oh, yeah: “All of them.”

  In the small craft bay, I see the HAZBOTs loading the disk into the launch’s cargo section. Aria is discussing something with Shawna when I walk up. “Aria, I’d like to take a WARBOT or two for backup.” Gwen is standing beside the landing craft, motionless. Even though she isn’t moving, the disdain coming from her is almost palpable.

  “Take one WARBOT and the two HAZBOTs. That will be all the mission launch can handle. The WARBOT has a fusion powered directed energy weapon and rapid-fire cannon. If you run into more than it can handle, call for a nuclear missile strike.” A Mission Launch is larger than the typical launch. It also has a larger fuel tank and hence a longer range. But physics still rears its head if we try to push the engines too hard. Overloading the launch will cost us fuel and that will cost us range.

  Shawna and Anya give each other a wink as Anya boards the launch. Puppy love, how cute. But I put a hand on their shoulders and try to keep a low volume. “What you do on your time is your business. Once we’ve delivered the disk and have Gwen back, you can spend the rest of your lives in the yin-yang posture. I don’t care. But until we’re headed back to Night Searcher, mission accomplished, please keep your heads in the game. Okay? Okay.”

  “Roger, Chief.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Gwen is catatonic, so I can put the snowsuit on her before we strap her into a bench couch for the ride down. Moments later, the launch leaves Night Searcher for the planet below. I leave the command chair on the bridge and call Sherri, Jonesy, and Anya to the forward area of the cargo compartment. I don’t have time for niceties and leaders must lead. “Strip. Completely. Put these on.” I hand each of them the unisex undergarment. They stare blankly at me until Sherri and I begin shedding our own coveralls, then underwear. We break into pairs. Sherri helps Anya and I help Jones. I give them a brief class on operation of the armor. Sherri is a great assistant instructor. We don’t have time for full training, for Sherri and Jones I’m not concerned. But truthfully, Anya is more likely to hurt herself as she is anyone else.

  We are finishing when Shawna flashes the “fasten seat belts sign.” I call Shawna on the headset. “I can’t fit through that door now so I’ll finish the ride back here. One more thing; click to the private channel.”

  While she’s doing so, I lean into Anya, putting her helmet in contact with mine. I switch her communicator to “off.” Sound vibrations will travel through solid objects. She and I will be able to speak as long as our helmets maintain physical contact, but no one else—other than Shawna—will be able to hear us. “I apologize if I came off brusque and unfeeling. But my daughter is at stake. My priorities are a little different than yours.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Anya sounds like she is afraid of being beaten.

  “No worries, Boss,” Shawna says, “Anya bit my ass harder than you chewed on it.” I see Anya blush.

  I switch Anya’s coms back on and settle back for the landing. Shawna and I go back to the public channel.

  The launch lands at the specified coordinates. It is a vast polar region, a bare frozen landscape broken by a twenty-meter high three-sided pyramid covering about a square hectare of land. We ca
n see an entrance. It doesn’t look larger than a one-meter square.

  Gwen stands. The seat belts holding her in place snap as Azazeel speaks: “Bring the disk inside the structure. Only Sonia and Gwendolyn will enter the pyramid.” Everyone shudders at the prospect. We’re still on the launch, so helmet visors aren’t in place. Jones is stoic. Anya looks terrified for Gwen. Sherri’s expression says, “I don’t think so.”

  We need some maneuvering room. “I need you to amend that,” I tell Azazeel. “It is not possible for Gwendolyn and me to carry that disk standing upright much less through a hole that small. At a minimum, we will need the HAZBOTs. And if you have scanned Gwen’s memories, then you know my friends and me. I can give the order for them to stay out here. But if we do not return quickly, they will come in after us. That isn’t out of a sense of disobedience, but out of loyalty. Each knows that I would do the same for them. I don’t know what that disk is or what it does, nor do I care. You are welcome to it. I just want my daughter back.”

  “Very well; you may use the robots, but no one else. If your friends follow us, they will die. If you do anything to prevent the disk being moved, you will die. You are not this child’s mother sow; don’t speak to me as if I am ignorant. Now shut up and get moving.”

  I start pointing, making things happen. Shawna has shut the pilot area off from the cargo compartment. The cargo door seal breaks. Helmet visors snap shut. It’s not just the wind, the sun is punishing in its brilliance. Jones starts tapping commands into a command tablet for the HAZBOTs. The clumsy rascal ‘accidentally’ kicks the switch locking the WARBOT into place. “My friends will not come with us. Very well, we will use the robots. I haven’t said or done anything to imply you are ignorant. But right here right now, I’m the closest thing to a mother she has.” The door opens. The cold wind is very sharp. The cargo area is immediately rimed in frost. The heaters in our armor keep us warm…but Gwen’s flesh?…how much of this onslaught can she withstand?

  Jones has programmed the robots to bring the disk. We all go out in the blistering cold and begin the walk to the pyramid. The HAZBOTs and Gwen are already doing so. I feel a hand on my arm. Sherri’s helmet touches mine. She turns my coms off as Jones presses the HAZBOT control tablet into my hand.