They closed the hatch and started back topside. It was 1311 Greenwich time. They had until about noon tomorrow to get some people on board the Thompson.
“By the way,” said Priscilla, “you timed your exit from the Gremlin pretty closely.”
“It’s going down?” said Joshua.
“A few minutes ago.”
* * *
JOHARA WAS ASLEEP in the passenger cabin. The others were reading. “I’ve never seen that happen before,” said Joshua. “Usually, they spend their time playing games.”
Ishraq looked up from her screen. “Priscilla asked us not to.”
“Of course,” he said. “Game-playing gets people excited, and you use more air.”
“I guess,” she said.
Jake and Joshua took seats while Priscilla and Shahlah went onto the bridge. “How about some music?” said Shahlah.
“You think we’d be disturbing anybody?”
“I think they’d love to hear some noise.”
“Okay. What do you suggest?” She put the library on-screen.
“Oh,” Shahlah said. “You have the Cairo Five.” She looked at Priscilla, who nodded.
Shahlah made the selection in English.
* * *
THE MUSIC BOUNCED and banged along in a gallop until Priscilla turned the volume down. Don’t want anybody getting excited. But the Cairo Five rolled in perfect harmony. The rhythms could have been directly out of Manhattan. A few of the instruments were unfamiliar, more strings than would have been used in a Western rendition, and of a different timbre. But Shahlah smiled and Priscilla was on board from the start. And even Jake, who appeared at the hatch.
The Desert Express, oh, the Desert Express,
She rides each night on the Desert Express,
She waves hello then she waves good-bye
Every night on the Desert Express.
* * *
JAKE NEEDED SOMETHING to keep his spirits up, so he fell back on a collection of commentaries by a young journalist named MacAllister. The guy attacked everybody, college professors, women, clerics, Boy Scouts. Nobody was safe. I can imagine no worse condition than being married to a perfect spouse, he wrote. What the hell was that supposed to mean? MacAllister thought he lived in a world populated by blockheads. He recommended voting to reelect President Norman even though he was an idiot. Not good, he admitted, but a step up from Governor McGruder.
The reality was Jake could not keep his mind off the clock. And the Thompson. Joshua sat across the cabin. His display was off, and his eyes were closed though he was not asleep.
Eventually, the Gremlin captain brought up the library, inserted an earpod, and started the Blake Ocala Show. Ocala bored Jake. He was enormously popular back in the U.S., but the guy was smarmy at best. His routines consisted mostly of leering at his female guests, poking fun at politicians, and falling down. “You really like that guy?” he asked.
“No,” said Josh. “He’s pretty dumb. But right now, he’s a diversion.”
* * *
EVENTUALLY, JAKE WENT back onto the bridge. Priscilla was doing a crossword puzzle while Shahlah was reading. “What is it?” he asked.
“A biography of Toraggio,” she said.
“The historian?”
“Well, he was more than a historian. He was a futurist.”
“I think I saw him once,” said Jake. “At Union. Wasn’t he the guy who thought we had to set up off-world colonies if we wanted to survive?”
“Yes,” she said. “He’s largely the reason we’re having the battle over terraforming now.”
“Wonderful.”
“He was also worried about ideologies. He thinks we need to get rid of them.”
“Bear with me, but isn’t that an ideology?”
She dimmed the screen. “I guess. Did you get a chance to talk to him?”
“Not really. Somebody pointed him out to me. He was checking into the Starlight. He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Two years ago,” she said.
Jake nodded. And pressed his index finger against his lips. They shouldn’t be talking.
Priscilla’s clock chimed. Seventeen hundred hours. She got up and went into the passenger cabin. “We’re going down to the lander again, ladies. Who wants to come? I can take three.”
The kids had already decided. She took Adara, Lana, and Ishraq down and returned a few minutes later with Nadia, Layla, and Sakeena.
“How was it?” asked Josh.
Sakeena wrinkled her nose. “It’s great down there. But you can hardly breathe in here.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I guess it’s a bit stuffy.” He glanced at Jake but said nothing further.
* * *
PRISCILLA’S JOURNAL
The things we take for granted: like being able to breathe. It’s almost impossible to sleep when getting enough air becomes a struggle.
—November 18, 2195
Chapter 8
THEY CONTINUED TO rotate the girls through the lander every four hours. The quality of the air was so much better that there was no shortage of volunteers. But when they changed over at 0500 hours, when the air in the lander was also becoming hard to breathe, and there was still no sign of the Thompson, the general mood was darkening. “We’ll be watching from the bridge,” Jake told the girls as they slipped into their seats. “But if you start having a problem, just open up and leave. Okay?”
“What are we going to do after this, Captain Loomis?” Johara asked. She was seriously frightened. They all were.
“We have air tanks,” he said. “Don’t worry. We’ll be all right.”
He hated lying to them. Well, maybe he wasn’t lying. Not really. They would probably be all right. He was less sure about the adults.
He returned to the passenger cabin, where Shahlah took him aside. “You said there’s five hours in each of the air-tank units?”
“That’s correct.”
“Can’t they be refilled?”
“They could. But it wouldn’t do any good because we’d just be taking the air out of life support.”
Kareema and Lana were in the passenger cabin playing with Tawny. Ishraq and Sakeena sat off to one side, tapping messages to each other on their notebooks. The others were scattered around the Copperhead.
Jake went up onto the bridge. Joshua was there with Priscilla. “Nothing yet from the Thompson?” he asked.
Priscilla shook her head. “Negative, Jake.”
He went back and wandered through the ship, trying to look upbeat, everything’s okay, we’ll be out of here soon. He wished he believed it.
He returned to the passenger cabin. Had a soft drink. Sat down next to Ishraq and Sakeena. They were exchanging information electronically about their science projects. They showed him their notebooks. Sakeena had been doing gravity experiments, and Ishraq had been teleporting particles. Ishraq typed a note: “One day these big ships will be obsolete.”
He got his notebook and typed a reply: “You really think that’s going to happen?” The idea seemed utterly outlandish. It had shown up occasionally in books and films, but there was no way he could take it seriously.
She responded with one word: “Yes.”
He looked at Sakeena: “What kind of gravity research are you doing?”
She had dark intelligent eyes. “You will not laugh?”
“No.”
“Artificial gravity.”
“Impossible?”
She shook her head.
Jake typed again: “It’s supposed to be impossible.”
“People used to say that about faster-than-light travel.”
He smiled. Raised his hands, conceding the point.
She sent him another message: “You will live to see it.”
He was about to reply when he heard Benny’s voice. “There it is!”
And Priscilla: “Let’s have it, Benny.”
Jake got up and strode onto the bridge.
“Copperhead, Gremlin.” It was Drake Pe
ifer’s voice. “This is the Thompson. We’ve arrived insystem. Do you read me?”
“We read you, Drake. We’re at Barton’s World. Running short on air.”
Jake took the right-hand seat, cautioned her to lower her voice, and turned down the volume. A minute ticked by. Longer. Not a good sign. Then: “Are you able to meet us?”
“Yes,” said Priscilla. “We’re mobile.”
“Good. Looks like about twenty-one hours to rendezvous.”
“That won’t get the job done, Drake. Where are you?”
“We’re feeding the information now. What’s the Gremlin’s status?”
“It went down.”
“How much air do you have left?”
“We need you here within seven hours.”
“Hold on.” It was a long pause. Then: “We’ll have to try another jump.”
She looked at Jake. He nodded. “Do it,” she said.
Transdimensional jumps were notoriously inaccurate. They usually put you within approximately a million kilometers of your target. That was good if you were going to Canopus, and nobody was in a hurry. But it wasn’t very helpful if you were already in relatively close. Another jump would take time and might gain nothing. Or even lose ground.
* * *
THE BETTER PART of an hour passed before they heard from the Thompson again. “We’re not much closer,” Drake said. “A few hours less. But not enough. We can try another jump.”
“Negative,” said Jake. “How’s your fuel?”
“About half a tank.”
“Hold on. Benny, do we have the Thompson’s new position?”
“I’m getting it now.”
“What’s the best rendezvous time?”
“There are fuel limitations. And the sustained acceleration would almost certainly cause injuries. But taking all that into consideration, we can meet in just under five hours.”
“Thank God,” said Priscilla. “That’s tight, but it works.”
Jake heard movement behind him and turned to see Josh.
“All right,” said Jake. “Priscilla, let’s get moving.”
“No,” said Josh. “The high-acceleration rendezvous is not a good idea.”
“We don’t have a choice.”
“Jake, the pressures generated by all the accelerating and braking will increase everyone’s oxygen intake by a substantial margin. I can’t be positive, but I’d be surprised if we didn’t lose life support during the process.”
“We can manage a meeting without excessive acceleration in seven hours,” Benny said. “Perhaps a bit less. But we have to get started.”
“We don’t have a seven-hour air supply,” said Jake.
“Do it, damn it,” said Josh. “Let’s get moving.”
* * *
PRISCILLA’S JOURNAL
. . . Darkest moment of my life . . .
—November 18, 2195
Chapter 9
“THIS IS NOT going to work,” said Jake. “We’ll lose the lander at about 0800.”
Joshua shook his head. “We have a fifteen-hour supply of oxygen in the air tanks.”
“That doesn’t add up to seven hours for three people.”
“But it’s enough for two.”
“I’m not sure what you’re suggesting,” said Priscilla, “but I think we should try another jump. Maybe we’d get lucky.”
“No.” Joshua shook his head. “At this range, the jumps are just wasting time.” His eyes narrowed. “It would mean putting everybody at risk. We can’t do that.”
“So what do we do?” she said.
“I have an idea,” said Josh.
“What’s that?”
“Give me ten minutes. Then come down to the lander.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Jake.
“I’m not sure yet. Just let me take a look at our options.”
Priscilla thought she saw something pass between the two captains, an understanding. But then the girls were grouped around the hatch asking What’s happening?
When are they going to be here?
Is everything okay?
And Joshua was gone.
“We’ll be fine,” said Shahlah in both languages.
“What’s he going to do?” Priscilla asked.
“I don’t know,” said Jake.
She knew Jake pretty well by then. And he seemed rattled. But she let it go.
* * *
JAKE SAT STARING at nothing in particular.
“We have to get going,” said Priscilla. “We’re wasting time.”
“Try a little patience,” he said. His voice was flat.
Finally, Priscilla got up. “I’ve had enough of this. I’m going down to see what’s going on.”
He put a hand on her wrist. “Wait. He asked for ten minutes. Give it to him.”
So they sat. The girls backed away. Shahlah had disappeared, too. Then suddenly she was on the circuit: “Priscilla, I can’t get into the cargo bay.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t open the hatch. Can you put air into it from up there? I think Joshua is in there.”
Priscilla was already doing it. “Don’t know how I missed it,” she said. “It’s been decompressed.”
* * *
SHAHLAH WAS STILL waiting at the hatch when they arrived. It wouldn’t open until the air pressure equalized on both sides. She was in tears.
When finally they got through, the first thing Priscilla saw was Josh, floating a foot or two above the deck, his wrist tied to a frame. They tried to revive him, although Priscilla thought it was probably a cruel thing to do. If they succeeded, he would only feel that he had to go through it again.
But she needn’t have worried. He was gone.
Shahlah was sobbing. “No, no, no. He was our captain. There was no way he was going to allow one of his passengers to die. I should have known.”
Priscilla looked accusingly at Jake. It was hard to believe he hadn’t realized what was happening.
* * *
LIBRARY ENTRY
Courage is of no value if the gods do not assist.
—Euripides, The Suppliant Women
Chapter 10
EVENTUALLY, THERE WERE lights in the sky, and the Sydney Thompson came out of the darkness and eased alongside. Priscilla faced the girls in the passenger cabin. “Who wants to go over to the Thompson with Shahlah for the ride home?”
Ten hands went up. Priscilla wasn’t surprised. No happy memories here. And, of course, they liked Shahlah. “All right. But we can only send five.”
“We do not wish you to misunderstand,” said Ishraq. “It’s not because we didn’t enjoy our time on the Copperhead—”
“I know,” she said. “I think I’d want off, too. But we need five of you to stay here. Food and water issues on the Thompson. Can you guys decide? Do it quickly so we can get everybody some fresh air again.”
Ishraq and Ashira volunteered to stay. Layla raised her hand. And Karida and Kareema.
“Okay,” Priscilla said. “Good. Get your luggage. The Thompson shuttle will be here in a few minutes. No spacewalk this time.”
Johara pretended to be disappointed.
There were hugs and a few tears and an agreement that they’d all try to get together back at Union. That was speculative. Depending on where the ships were when they surfaced in the solar system, there could be as much as three days’ difference in arrival times.
Jake looked as if he were in a distant place. He returned the embraces with the emotion of a robot and watched the five girls, escorted by Drake Peifer, pass through the cargo-bay air lock into the Thompson lander. Shahlah was the last to leave.
“Thanks, guys,” she said. “I hate to think where we’d have been without you.”
Priscilla helped carry the baggage. Then Shahlah took her aside. “Is he all right?” she asked, meaning Jake.
“He’s a bit rattled. But he’ll get past it.”
“I hope so.” She wiped away a tear. “L
et me know if I can ever do anything.”
“Of course. Thank you. I just wish things had turned out differently.”
“So do I, Priscilla. So do I.”
They embraced, and Priscilla returned to the cargo bay. The air lock closed, and the lander was gone.
* * *
THE THOMPSON LEFT first. Priscilla was just taking her place on the bridge when a message came in from Union. “Jake.” A male voice. “Hope everything is going okay at your end. We’ve been worried. Appreciate everything you guys have been doing.”
“That’s Frank Irasco,” said Jake. Irasco was the assistant director for WSA at Union.
“We were glad you were in the area,” Irasco continued. “Keep us informed.”
That was it. Jake sat down beside her but said nothing. The air being dispersed by the vents had already begun to feel breathable again. Priscilla switched on the mike. “Girls,” she said, “the flight to the home system will take three days and about six hours. Then it’ll be probably another couple of days to get back to Earth. We’ll be moving out in five minutes, so you should take care of any last-minute business and get belted down.” She switched off and turned to Jake. “I’ve never been more happy in my life to get away from a place.”
* * *
THE SOMBER REACTION that had taken hold of the girls when they learned of Captain Miller’s death subsided. They played games, watched holos, laughed about boys. They especially enjoyed the space-adventure series Deep Skies. They had an Arabic version. Priscilla watched an episode with them, and was fascinated by the visuals and the show’s distinctive score, suggestive of intergalactic space and cosmic mystery. She tried it in English, got hooked, and became a fan on the way home. She was especially taken with Ryan Fletcher, who played the daredevil skipper of the Excelsior, Captain William L. Brandywine.
Ishraq often joined her on the bridge. “I’d love to do this when I grow up,” she said.
“Keep going the way you are, Ishraq, and I suspect you’ll be able to do anything you please.”
“It’s very nice of you to say that.”
“You’ve already done pretty well. You’ve won a science prize. You’ve been off-world.”
Starhawk Page 6
