Tomorrow’s Heritage

by Juanita Coulson

  Todd wasn’t surprised. He said with a bit of heat, “Recomputing course-adjust and fuel reserves. Stand by for update.”

  “Affirm. We will escort, One-Five.”

  They didn’t ask if he wanted an escort. They told him. Todd picked up some of their background chatter as they traded info first with each other and then with Goddard Control. The audio shorthand resembled Owens’s earlier military in-group slang.

  Todd finished reprogramming, then strapped Gib and himself in securely for the course correction. They had altered orbit considerably and he didn’t want to waste time, so the burn was very expensive. He grimaced as the fuel readings dropped sharply. Well, Saunder Enterprises could afford it. At least his branch of the family corporation could. If Mari refused to foot her share of the bill, he would—

  Todd halted his runaway irritation. Why had he been ready to retaliate before he had been hit? Whatever disagreements they had had, he knew Mari wasn’t petty. If she could scrape up the funds, she would pay him back without hesitation. There would be plenty else for them to squabble about when he saw her, but not that.

  When he saw her . . . ETA update to Goddard now read 2430. Sooner than he and Gib had planned. Better sooner than never.

  Todd realized he was shuddering. Delayed reaction. He noted his tremors as if it were someone else’s body. He had been remarkably calm during the last minutes as the hostile homed in on them. He hadn’t known he could be that collected in such a situation. Now that the immediate danger was over, jitters racked him. Odd. The physical sensations were quite similar to those he had felt when he had a definite confirm on the alien messenger’s existence, when it first returned the signal they had sent it. The stimulus had been quite different—giddy elation rather than icy terror. Yet his body treated both emotional shocks identically.

  Owens barely spoke throughout the trip, even though he seemed to be conscious. When Todd talked to him, the pilot, if he responded at all, mumbled unintelligibly. The med readouts continued low nominal, not serious enough, it seemed to Todd, to produce this result. Was it a genuine injury aftereffect? Or had Owens found a handy excuse to avoid answering Todd’s questions? Todd eyed the young pilot suspiciously. Perhaps he was being unfair, just as he had been anticipating Mari to bitch about fuel expenses. Such uncharitable doubts were new to him. So was being menaced by a satellite and shuttle killer.

  The habitat came up on visuals. Scanners picked out the wheel against the blackness long before Todd could eyeball it. He watched as the speck grew and took on distinct form. The screens showed the original construction-shack sections of the banded torus and various outliers and other work stations orbiting close by. Todd had made this approach often, but he never tired of the view. Even now, his ragged nerves couldn’t spoil his enjoyment of that massive beauty.

  Goddard Colony was beautiful. Pat and the anti-Spacers couldn’t see it that way. Ward Saunder would have. Todd longed to share the view with his father. The station had been a dream almost off the drawing boards, but not quite, when Ward had been killed. They would have ridden up here together, searching for bits of poetic description from old books they had read, a friendly rivalry in praising the great space wheel with words.

  Goddard’s space spiders were busy, weaving fresh hide for the station. Little commuter craft plied the vacuum between Goddard and the nearby orbiting factories and mass driver terminal stations. A tow vessel should be arriving soon from the major lunar mining collection point, bring a fresh cargo of precious compacted Moon soil for breakdown and manufacture.

  At first, everything seemed normal. Then anomalies crept into the familiar scene. Todd cued zoom scan to port, studying the orbiting spacecraft factory. Usually the open-sided drydock held an assortment of mini-shuttles and a cargo hauler. Now the regular output was parked outside the structure, as if to make room for more important work. Todd saw several sleek, military-type craft resembling the Unit Three fighters. And there was another ship, larger and built to handle—eventually—a planetary gravity stress. Todd had seen the design proposed three years before, when he had been a guest during the Colony’s monthly Planning Group meeting. The discussion had been heated, fired by the pioneering spirit so prevalent on the habitat. In the end, as much as the Group wanted to go ahead, they had tabled the blueprint, admitting they couldn’t swing the funds from P.O.E.’s supplementary credits or from their own profit picture. The Mars Base Colony ship would have to go on indefinite standby, for at least ten years.

  Yet there it was, half built.

  Goddard Traffic Control took over the shuttle’s guidance. From this point on, Todd and Gib would be pasengers. Retros and vernier thrusters aligned the ship delicately onto Tracking’s pre-plotted course. Todd adjusted his orientation again as the shuttle decelerated and began to match the habitat’s rotation. They were dropping from one-quarter to null gravity, speed and motion shifting confusingly.

  Resolution was sharp and stark. Objects stood out brilliantly or were hidden in deepest shadow. Docking brought arriving ships in on a track that avoided the Colony’s solar collectors’ glare. As a result, he could gaze at the station without squinting. His curiosity aroused by the shipbuilding in the spacecraft factory, Todd studied the torus, not sure what he was looking for.

  Suddenly, he wanted to slow the shuttle. He was in too close and moving closer. Too close to see what had happened to Section Four of the immense wheel. Something was very wrong. What had happened? A gap was torn out of the station, penetrating the outer radiation shield. The interior was ripped open and shattered. It was a massive wound in the space station’s integrity.

  Alert now, he saw another wound. Not as big as the one that had destroyed Section Four, but bad. Section Two was also hurt, and it was residential. Day or night, the disaster was bound to have caught many people in their homes. Had they had time to get to adjacent areas and secure life-support? Todd fervently hoped so, badly shaken by what he had seen.

  Unexpectedly he saw the catastrophe through alien eyes. What would they—the species which had built the alien messenger vehicle—think of this? They must have had space stations, might still have some. Had their stations ever suffered this kind of damage? Why? And how?

  Todd knew the how, here. He didn’t want to look at it squarely, but the likelihood was unavoidable. Missile strike.

  “Shuttle One-Five, prepare for docking in five minutes.”

  He woke out of his speculations, making final safety checks. They drifted in toward Goddard’s hub. By now the Colony was too huge for the scanners to take in, no matter how much they reduced the view. He could pick up remotes from Goddard’s own orbiting watchdog cameras. That was the only way he could get the full picture from this close in.

  Coming into port. Our ship survived a pirate attack . . .

  The brightly lit docking bay was straight ahead. A bright green cross flashed on the nav screens. Todd’s escort had dropped back. Were they waiting their turns to dock, or getting ready to take off on another rescue mission? They had delivered their charges and were now free to get back to work. What was their work? How much defense and rescue did they have to do? And whom were they defending Goddard from?

  The shuttle coasted slowly inside the docking bay. Relative forward motion ceased. The ship’s OMS thrusters shut down, and the station’s low-field magnetic grapnels reached for them. The craft shivered at the contact. By centimeters, they were pulled into berth. Connecting tunnels and umbilicals locked in place. All the external sounds Todd had left at Geosynch HQ were back. The shuttle was on Goddard Colony’s life-support systems.

  While pressure came up, Todd put a final entry in the trip log and cut off the internal systems. Owens peered at him through slitted eyelids and groaned. He didn’t seem interested when Todd told him they were docked. Interior screens scanned the shuttle’s air lock as it opened. A med team floated through the connecting tunnel and into the ship. Other station personnel followed. Cargo supervisors? They didn’t look the type, even t
hough a couple of them started running inventory as soon as they arrived inside the craft. Two of them took up positions by the air lock. Guards? That had never happened on any of Todd’s previous trips to Goddard.

  The cockpit hatch opened, and medics rushed in. Despite the pressurization, they remained fully suited. Todd was reassured by that. Whatever was going on at the Colony, they weren’t letting safety standards slide. A couple of medics began checking out Owens while another scanned Todd. He okayed him re residual radiation or obvious injuries, then started unshipping his heavier equipment.

  “That’s not necessary. I’m not hurt,” Todd said quickly. No argument. Not even a suggestion he go to Sickbay for a thorough look-see. Instead, the medic nodded and shoved the heavy examining gear across the cockpit to his co-workers.

  “Is Gib . . .”

  “Too early to tell, sir.” The tone told Todd to mind his own business.

  The space was becoming crowded. The medics wouldn’t let Todd help, and he was in their way. They angled a stretcher awkwardly over his head and the consoles and positioned it to carry the pilot. Todd didn’t need any stronger hint. He pushed off and left.

  At the air lock, other Goddard personnel were still checking inventory, or pretending to. Normally Todd took no interest in unloading, beyond signing the forms when Goddard’s accounting department asked him to. This time he eyed the people thoughtfully and asked several questions. He got no more satisfaction than he had from the medics. Disgusted, he reached for his personal luggage on the rack by the air lock. A guard came between him and the bag. “That’ll be taken care of, sir. You’ll be staying in your sister’s housing unit? Then we’ll deliver it there.”

  Todd tried to edge around the human barricade. Another guard joined the first. They politely but firmly fended off Todd’s efforts. “What is this? Are you confiscating my luggage?”

  “No, sir. Regulations, sir. Your luggage is quite safe. If you need anything from it immediately, you can requisition it from Security . . .”

  “I will! I’ll just talk to Kevin McKelvey. He’s in charge of Security, in case you’ve forgotten, and he just happens to be living with my sister.” Todd hadn’t used a name for clout in a long time. Previously, the magic name “Saunder” had been enough to get results. Here it seemed as if McKelvey’s should do it. The only result was a peculiar, patronizing attitude, as if the guards knew something Todd didn’t, something funny. “You’re going to keep the luggage? You want to see my ID, too?”

  “No, sir. We know who you are.”

  “Really? I was beginning to wonder.” Todd dived out the air lock, leaving his luggage behind. Two more guards were waiting beyond the exit tunnel. They swam up alongside him, hemming Todd in, although they didn’t touch or restrain him in any way. “And what are you?” Todd asked acidly. “My honor guard?”

  “Just making sure you get to Port of Entry okay, sir,” one of the unrequested escorts explained. “There’s been a lot of new construction since you were here last, Mr. Saunder. Some of it’s kind of dangerous. You’re not properly suited up for those areas.”

  Visions of the damaged torus sections flashed in Todd’s mind. Was that the construction they referred to? But here they were at the Hub, not out on the wheel, where the wrecked sections were. An escort didn’t make any sense here. An armed escort. Both men wore military side arms. One of them was a civilian. The other was part of Kevin McKelvey’s liaison detachment posted at Goddard from Lunar Base Copernicus. They worked expertly together. Playing escort efficiently and being ready to disable an invader. It was plain this sort of duty wasn’t new to either of them.

  Did they think he was an invader?

  Sobered, Todd made his way through the Hub from docking. The areas around Traffic Control seemed abnormally crowded. Perhaps the extra personnel were needed to handle the Defense Units’ comings and goings. Obviously they had been tracking that missile by the time Gib called them. Rescue must have already been on its way when the shuttle sent a Mayday. But in spite of the claims of Todd’s escort, he saw no new construction. He did see large numbers of sealed hatches marked “No Admittance Without Planning Group Authorization.” Another change since his last trip. Something very much out of the way was taking place here.

  Defensive measures? The next step would be offensive. Was that what was going on in the sealed-off rooms? Installing cannons and counterstrike equipment? He recoiled from the idea and its implications.

  There were more armed guards, more mingling of the military and civilians. Some of the civilians acted green, but the same combat-ready manner marked them all. The regular staff wouldn’t speak to Todd. He knew many of them, and they knew him. He had been a loyal supporter of Goddard Colony since its inception and was no stranger here. Not only did his attempted greetings bring no response, but occasionally he received a glare of naked hatred, shocking him.

  At Suit Storage, the guards removed their helmets but kept on their pressure suits while the guest stripped to his jumper. Like Defense Unit Three, they waited to get him off their hands so they could return to regular chores. Todd was about to ask them what those regular chores were when the outer door opened and a group of Colonists drifted in, heading for the suit lockers. Mariette came in right behind them, scooting her anchoring tether hurriedly along the rail until she reached Todd. She flung her arms about him and together they bobbed about, held only by her safety line.

  Todd grunted in the enthusiasm of her embrace, grinning. She pressed her close-cropped dark hair against his cheek and he felt her tremble. When they came up for air, he tweaked her chin. “Are you crying, Mari?”

  She was sniffling. But she was also beaming, that smile, like Pat’s, which made sunlight dim. “Not any more. Not now that you’re here! Oh, it’s so good to see you!” She hugged him again as Todd yelped in sham protest and clung to the rail for balance.

  Kevin McKelvey remained by the outer door, talking to a couple of soldiers and several civilians. He wore his commander’s uniform, but the Lunar Base patches had been removed. McKelvey’s strong face showed fresh worry lines. “Check the circuits and let me know. Don’t let them get that close again,” he said. The soldiers and civilians rushed away. No chatter. No joking. Very serious and intent. Todd was used to the special zeal of Goddard citizens, but usually that dedication was leavened with laughter. Now there was none. Those who had been suiting up were gone, too. The three of them were alone in the locker room.

  Keeping one arm about his waist, Mariette steered Todd toward the outer hall. He didn’t bother hooking up his own tether. She was his anchor. Kevin followed them through the door and shut it. His oversized paw engulfed Todd’s hand, and Kevin underlined Mariette’s welcome with a hearty, “Damned glad you made it, Todd.”

  “It’s nice to know I’m appreciated. It would have been a lot nicer if I’d had some warning about the fireworks you were going to stage for me.”

  “That’s not fair,” Mariette protested.

  “No outraged innocence, Mari. I’m not in the mood.”

  “Neither are we,” Kevin’s basso growl broke in. His ruddy complexion darkened threateningly. “This isn’t a game. And we’re not putting on a show.”

  “But you are keeping secrets, from me and from Earth,” Todd said. “And I’m tired of it. I think I’m overdue for explanations. Gib promised me some, then dodged by getting himself concussed, or a reasonable facsimile thereof.”

  Kevin’s annoyed look told Todd he had scored a hit with that guess. But the officer offered no apologies.

  “Is Gib hurt badly?” Mariette asked, concerned.

  “I don’t think it’s serious,” Todd said. “The medics weren’t very worried. How about it, Kevin? Are they taking him to Sickbay, or to Debriefing?”

  “Maybe a little of both, depending on the doctors’ verdict.”

  Todd’s patience snapped. “All right. We’ve said hello. The amenities have been satisfied. Your medics wanted me out of their hair before Gib said anyt
hing incriminating. And your escort took me through this armed camp to make sure I didn’t butt in on any superspy stuff. What’s this all about? I’m not an enemy. I came riding up here, peacefully planning a visit to my sister, and some missile almost makes it a case of like father, like son . . .”

  Mariette’s face turned deathly white. “Don’t!”

  “Well, dammit, that’s what happened. Are you going to tell me why I’m being shot at and treated like an invader? Or do I draw my own conclusions?”

  “We’ll tell you as much as we can,” Mariette promised. Kevin started to argue, and she rounded on him as quickly as action and reaction allowed. He steadied her, holding her by the shoulders, meeting her eyes. Todd was embarrassed to be present, an intruder on an intimate scene. They did nothing but look at each other, yet everything was obvious. The relationship had always been intense. Now it was a conflagration.

  Kevin broke the stillness at last. “Let’s grab some gravity. Then we can talk.” He led the way to the nearby elevator.

  As they crowded into the aluminum cage, Todd said, “I assume your apartment wasn’t damaged when Section Two got mangled.” Their reactions were so fierce he was taken aback. Lamely, he mumbled an apology. “Uh, were there many casualties?”

  “Yes.” Kevin didn’t elaborate, and Todd wished he could disappear for a while.

  They traveled out along the immense spoke. Elevator view panels showed them their progress toward the torus. Other spokes, containing similar elevators, were radiating arms reaching from the Hub to the wheel. At each level, the angle of view of those spokes widened, and above them the incredible bulk of the torus loomed larger and larger.

  Any trip to Goddard or a return to Earth from Todd’s satellite chain exacted a price. Todd’s cardiovascular system, bones, and muscles complained. He hadn’t noticed the sinus congestion so much at ComLink. Now, rising toward one gravity, he did: He could make the adjustment rapidly compared with some, but there were always a few upsetting minutes when he first arrived. On schedule, his viscera roiled. He endured the inner confusion while the cage moved twenty meters farther up the spoke. He marveled that Goddard’s citizens could make this trip so frequently, going to their jobs elsewhere on the torus, out to the lunar mining collection net, or to the various adjacent stations.