But I wasn't sorry. It helped to make a lot of things very clear, very fast.
For one thing, all of the Revelationists on the ship stopped talking to me—and to everyone else in the family. All of the little favors, the smiles in the corridors, the thanks, the congratulations, the applause for the music—that all stopped as suddenly as if a switch had been thrown.
So, Kisa had been right.
But if anyone knew the Revelationists, the Fentress family did. So I wasn't surprised that Kisa was right. She'd said these people were only your friends if they thought you would join them. If you disagreed with them in public, you were the enemy. Forever.
Which is why I was in so much trouble with everybody from Commander Boynton to my Mom—because suddenly the Revelationists were protesting and agitating and arguing and demanding and insisting about every little detail aboard the Cascade, and whatever friendly mood had existed two minutes ago, that was over now.
And most of the scowls were aimed at me—not just from the Revelationists, but from the Outbeyonders too. A lot of them blamed me for the breakdown. Like I should have known better.
So I spent a lot of time hiding out in this or that storage compartment, with nothing but my headphones and my music. Finally, I went to our hideout in the unused centrifuge.
Hmmm. That was odd. There were fewer boxes here than before. That puzzled me. These were all for Outbeyond. They weren't supposed to be repacked until after the Revelationists left the ship. But I figured that nobody was going to move things around without authorization, and there were a lot of last minute decisions being made. There was a lot I didn't know. So I wondered, but I didn't worry.
I rearranged some boxes and made a little cave for myself. Unless you came into the shower room, came all the way around the boxes, you wouldn't see to wriggle between the boxes and the wall. And then you'd still have to go all the way to the back and around the corner to find the tunnel into my hideout.
It was Mickey who found me. "I know you're in there, Charles. And no, there's nobody with me." He climbed into the cramped space. There was barely room for the two of us. He unclipped a light from his belt and switched it on. Then he pulled the pack off his back. "Here, I brought you a sandwich and a Coke. Everybody's worried because you missed dinner. The Coke is from David Cheifetz."
"Really?"
"I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but you have more friends than you know. What you said to that pompous old fart, Pettyjohn—a lot of people wish they could have said it themselves."
"Only they have better manners," I said.
"Sometimes good manners are a hindrance to the truth." Mickey looked into my face. "Charles, what you did—thank you. That was a courageous thing to do. Maybe not wise, but definitely courageous."
"You think so?"
"I know so. I'm very proud to be in your family. It's nice to know I'll have a brother-in-law who stands up for me." He made as if to go, then turned back. "I won't tell anyone where you are, unless you want me to. I'll just tell them you're all right. You want me to leave the light?"
"Yes, please." And then I said, "Mickey? You could tell J'mee where I am."
"She already knows. She told me where to find you. She sent me to make sure you were all right."
Of course.
"She wants to know if she can come keep you company."
"Yes, please."
He turned to go.
"Uh, Mickey—?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
"Any time, bro."
J'mee showed up a little while later. She had more sandwiches in her backpack—and fruit and sodas. And an air mattress and a blanket and a pillow. "How long are we going to hide out?" she asked as she started to arrange everything.
"We?"
"Don't be selfish," she said. "I missed you."
"I thought you'd be angry."
"Why would I be angry?"
"I dunno. Everybody else is."
"I'm not."
"Then you're the exception."
She pulled the tab and the mattress whooshed out into shape. "A lot of people are worried. What if the Revelationists sabotage the ship so we can't go on to Outbeyond?"
"Would they do that?"
She shrugged and started spreading out the blanket; it was shiny on one side dark on the other, depending on whether you wanted to reflect heat or absorb it. "I don't know. Daddy thinks they might. Commander Boynton called a meeting of senior colonists. Daddy came back from it looking very grim. He said Commander Boynton is thinking about locking down the entire ship until the Revelationists are offloaded. But that's not the real problem."
"What is?"
"Nobody knows about this yet. You have to promise not to say anything."
"Who am I going to tell in here?"
"We got a message from New Revelation last night. Commander Boynton hasn't shared it yet. He's still trying to figure out his options."
"What happened?"
"The Conway never showed up. They don't know if it just disappeared, or went somewhere else, or what. New Revelation was really depending on it. They were expecting a full load of equipment and building materials and seeds and meat-tanks and everything. And now they're in really bad shape. They don't have the food to feed the three hundred new mouths we'll be offloading. They're already on half-rations, they're eating mushrooms and algae and yeast. They're expanding their farms as fast as they can, but their first harvest doesn't come due for at least another six to eight weeks. They're hurting down there."
I didn't say anything. I was trying to imagine a mushroom, algae, and yeast sandwich … without the bread.
"Commander Boynton wants to see you on the bridge," she said, fluffing the pillow.
"How do you know that?"
"He told me to tell you."
"Oh."
"He's not mad at you."
"He's not?"
"No. He's got too much other stuff to worry about. He needs to ask HARLIE some questions."
"It's that serious?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Okay—" I started to crawl out.
J'mee grabbed my arm. "Not right away. Not till oh-six-hundred."
I stopped. "Why not right now?"
"Because even the Captain has to sleep sometime." She stretched out on the mattress, leaving room for me beside her.
I might be a little slow sometimes, but I'm not as stupid as I look. Eventually I figure things out. This time, I was a little faster than usual.
I stretched out next to her. "Okay," I said, turning on my side to face her. "Now tell me the real reason."
"Because … " she said, "there are a lot of people looking for you, right now. And he thinks it would be best if you stayed hidden until he needs you."
"Oh," I said, letting that sink in. "So he knows where I am too? Is there anyone who doesn't?"
"All the people who are still looking for you."
"The Revelationists?"
"Uh-huh."
"Is it bad?"
"Yeah."
"How bad?"
"Very. Some of them think that you've been possessed by the devil. They want to exorcise you. Or worse—"
"Or worse … ?"
"Yeah."
"Just because of what I said to Dr. Pettyjohn?"
"He thought he was trying to save your soul. When you said what you said—well, he thinks your soul is beyond redemption now. And now the Revelationists don't want you contaminating or infecting anyone else."
"So why are you here with me?"
"Because I don't believe it."
"You don't?"
"Uh-uh."
"Why not?"
"Because I can tell the difference between good and evil. You're good."
"So are you," I said.
For a bit, neither of us said anything. We just looked into each other's eyes and smiled.
"Are you comfortable?" I asked.
"Uh-huh."
"I know we're supposed to take naps in the ce
ntrifuge, so we don't forget how to rest in gravity; but it's been awhile for me. How about you?"
"I'm all right," she said.
A thought occurred to me. "Hey?"
"What?"
"Is it okay for you to stay here with me? I mean, if they find you with me—"
"They're not going to find us."
"Why not?"
"Commander Boynton locked the centrifuges. Both of them. All nonessential areas."
"Oh."
"So, we have to stay here all night?"
"Yep."
"Commander Boynton knows?"
"He thought you might like the company."
"And what about your Dad?"
"I told him not to worry."
"And he didn't argue?"
"There was nothing to argue about. I told him I was going to marry you."
" … Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"Don't I get a vote?"
"You already voted."
"I did?"
She touched my lips with one finger. "Yes, you did."
"Oh."
THE KEEL
In the morning, we ate mushroom and cheese sandwiches for breakfast. Portobello and cheddar. I asked, "Bev made these?"
"Uh-huh. She called them Mr. Misery sandwiches. She said she was sorry she didn't have time to make anything better. But I was in a hurry to get to you before Commander Boynton ordered the lockdown." She listened to her implant for a moment. "We have to get going."
"Things are getting serious?"
"Um. Maybe. Commander Boynton just released the news from New Revelation. Everybody's having committee meetings everywhere. There are a lot of frightened people on this starship."
I started gathering my stuff. I didn't have much. Just a jacket and my headphones. I helped J'mee with everything else. The mattress deflated itself back into a book-sized package. I refolded the blanket. We stuffed it all into J'mee's backpack and we were done.
"You ready?"
"Almost."
"What's the problem?" J'mee asked.
"Route," I said. I didn't have to explain. The centrifuges were at the middle of the ship. Just ahead of the hyperstate harness. The command module was more than halfway forward. A long way. And we'd have to pass through the staging area for the landing pods.
There would be people loading their belongings and things. Reve-lationists. There was no way around them.
J'mee shook her head. "Commander Boynton said we should come up through the keel."
The keel was the spine of the starship. Pipes and tubes and cables ran its length, branching off to the various modules that needed power, water, air, and network connections. Most people never went there, only crew. Even I'd never seen it. "Through the keel? Really?"
"He gave me an access code."
"Wow. You guys thought of everything."
"No. It was your idea, actually."
"Huh?"
"What you told me about the orbital elevator. Remember how you said you and your brothers climbed up the core of the Line at Geostationary? This won't be any different."
"Uh, yeah—I remember," I said slowly. "I didn't tell you all of it." She waited expectantly. "I didn't tell you that I'm—I'm afraid of heights. I had a panic attack. I had a lot of panic attacks. On the Line. In the cargo pod on our way to the moon. On the moon, when we were climbing out of a crater. And I'm claustrophobic too. And um—"
"Oh, great," she said. "That makes two of us."
"Huh?"
"I was depending on you—"
"You're kidding."
"No."
"Well, let's think. Is there another way?"
We thought. And then we thought some more. And a little more after that, just to make sure. Maybe we could go through the various cargo pods like a maze, only going through the unoccupied ones. Maybe we could just streak straight down "Broadway" as fast as we could. Maybe we could call Security and have them come and arrest us and escort us forward. Maybe we could—
No. There was no other way.
"Okay, the keel it is." I looked across at her. "Are you sure you're really afraid of heights?"
She nodded.
"It'll be free fall the whole way."
"That'll only make it worse."
"You want to do it blindfolded?"
The look she gave me was astonishing.
"I was joking."
She wasn't amused. "Let's go. The sooner we start, the sooner we'll be done."
From the shower room, we went out through the gym, out to the lounge, then up the stairs to the next level up, and up the stairs again, and now we were in Lunar gravity and from here on, everything was ladders. We kept going up until the top level where the pseudo-gravity was almost negligible.
On the top level, there was a transfer ring, which could accelerate up to the speed of the centrifuge; this was mostly for transferring heavy equipment, because most folks just bounced across to the free-fall side. From there, you could enter "Broadway," the main corridor of the starship. There were two other corridors, one for maintenance and one for cargo. They were spaced equidistantly around the keel.
But we didn't enter Broadway. We floated "up" one more level, where there was a direct access into the keel. J'mee punched in a code and the hatch popped open. No alarms went off.
I went through first. It was a narrow space, a lot narrower than we'd seen on the Line. J'mee climbed in after me and we shut the hatch behind us.
Imagine a pipe. Imagine that it's filled with a lot of other pipes, tubes, wires, cables, pumps, and stuff. Some of the tubes are different colors. Some of them glow—optic cables. Some of the plastic ones throb and pulse because liquid is rushing through them. And some of the plastic ones whoosh because air is whooshing along from one place to another. Imagine ladders and handholds, light fixtures, cameras, hatches, and even occasional windows. Now imagine that all this runs the entire length of the starship—over a kilometer. It was going to be a long haul in the long hall.
"It's dark in here," J'mee said.
"Not completely—" There were monitor lights along several of the pipes and tubes, self-powered exit signs at every hatch, and occasional pools of brightness where a window looked out onto a passageway. What we could see of the keel stretched away until it faded into gloom. "But it is spooky, isn't it."
And then I wished I hadn't said that last. I was scaring myself.
J'mee gulped at the length of it, then turned to me, her eyes wide. "You really did this on the Line?"
"Yeah. But this might be easier. The tube is narrower, and because it's darker here, it won't look as steep. It'll be cozier, you'll see. Come on, let's get started."
She hesitated. She looked awfully pale. This wasn't good. I was already nervous enough. I had to change the subject. Fast.
"Do you want to hang onto me—and I'll pull us along? It's not really that far. You can close your eyes if you want—that sometimes helps. It helped me."
"Okay." She climbed up on my back and wrapped her arms around my chest. I could feel her face pressed against my neck. "I trust you."
"Good. I'm glad someone does," I said.
"Shut up and drive." But her voice quavered.
I started pulling myself along the maintenance ladder. This wasn't as hard as I remembered. Of course, I'd been through a lot since then. Worse than this. And I was a lot more used to free fall. We'd had almost five months of it by now. It surprised me that J'mee was still having trouble with it—but now that I thought about it, I realized I'd never seen her swimming free. She was almost always holding onto something—orange webbing or ladderholds, or furniture, or something.
Abruptly, I laughed.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing."
"Tell me."
"It wasn't anything."
"Tell me anyway."
"I was just remembering how hard this was last time. Douglas had to put his arms around me and help me climb. Now I'm helping you. That's all. This ti
me around, I'm the big kid."
She didn't reply to that for a minute. When she did, her voice was a lot softer. "I never understood that. I've always been the big kid. Even when I was little. This is the first time anyone else has been the big kid for me." She whispered, "I'm glad it's you."
"Me too."
I climbed in silence for a while. I wished she would talk to me, but I could tell from the way she was breathing fast, from the way she was hanging on and shivering, that she was terrified. If she started to panic, I didn't know what I would do. Probably just hold her the way Douglas had held me in the cargo pod. How long ago that seemed. Half a lifetime.
And then she whispered. "I'm all right. I was talking to Commander Boynton. He knows we're on the way."
"Good. Just a little longer. Ten minutes, fifteen. I'm making good time." And I was. Hand over hand over hand. I had the rhythm. I pulled myself along, almost flying. I had to smile. I was good at this. We should have had free fall Olympics.
And then—the light ahead flickered. One of the pools of light. One of the windows. For just a moment. As if something had blocked it.
Uhoh.
HAND OVER HAND
I stopped."What?"
"Did you see that?"
"See what?"
"The light ahead—the second one. Where the window shines in."
"What about it."
"It blipped. I think someone was looking in for an instant." I wanted to tell myself it didn't mean anything. I used to look into the keel all the time—for no reason at all. But what if I was wrong? J'mee said they were looking for me. Would they look in the keel? Probably. Everybody on the ship knew how those Dingillian brats had gotten off the Line—and then across the moon as well. It wouldn't be too hard to figure out that the starship had a keel too. Everyone saw the hatches and windows every time they traveled along Broadway.
"Is the keel locked down?" I asked.
"There are manual overrides," J'mee whispered.
I turned to look back the way we'd come. I didn't see anything. Just more gloom, interrupted here and there by washes of illumination. I turned forward again. The light was still steady. But what if the blip was because someone was putting a motion-sensor on the glass? Just passing by, we might be setting off alarms. Someone could race ahead down Broadway and cut us off.
Or someone might have entered the keel behind us and be racing up after us even now—
Leaping to the Stars Page 24
