They held hands and walked toward a large rocky outcrop. The dust they kicked up slowly settled under the moon’s light gravity. They wandered up a slight incline and found a flat rock to sit on. After an hour of quiet talk Jim returned to the vehicle and detached the pod from the rear. He easily carried the pressure tent that weighed two and a half times his own weight. Back on Batalavia, both of them had had to drag it across the lawn when they set it up for practice. It slowly unfolded when activated and inflated into two large, double walled bubbles. One transparent, used for the main living area, the other blackened for sleeping. Night on this part of Carol was over a week away. The sleeping section was blackened for that reason. The two bubbles were connected by a low door between them and an anteroom extending from the opposite side acted as an airlock.
Jim and Carol unloaded their equipment from the vehicle into the airlock. They shut the outer door and pressurized. Once inside, helmets could be dispensed with.
“Do you feel confident enough with our practice to take off the suits?” Jim asked.
“Yes, I’m sure I can get it on well within the five minutes they recommend in the tent’s instructions.”
They had learned that if a meteorite holed the tent the life support system rapidly released air to retain the pressure and sounded an alarm. This would maintain a safe level for a minimum of five minutes. They had both laughed at the explanation that any penetrating object larger than could be handled would be fatal anyway making concern over a shorter safe time unnecessary. For safety, it recommended that suits be within reach at all times.
After dispensing with the suits, they assembled their fold out furniture and sat for the evening meal with the view of the planet, half appearing over the low hills on the horizon.
“Have you talked to Karla yet?” Jim asked, opening a package of prepared food.
“No, she’s kept to her cabin since the argument on the observation deck.”
“I’m sorry I asked her to come along,” Jim said despondently.
Carol became agitated. “What is she, a total anarchist or something? What is her thing, as you Earth people put it?”
“I don’t really know. She seems to think that someone should run things but rejects the idea of an elected government.”
“Well, what else is there? Running things completely by computer or having a dictator?”
Jim shrugged as he took another mouthful. “Don’t know. It was a confusing mixed up time she came from. She seems to be a little more mixed up than most. Have you talked to her about it?”
“Yes, on a number of occasions. She keeps referring to her family but when I ask her about it she shuts up.”
“That guy that painted her van? What was his name?”
“Randy. She says he’s her soul brother, whatever that means, but she seems to have come to terms with his loss. If it is a person, then it has to be someone else.”
“I’ll see what I can do about putting her on a freighter when one arrives. Sending her back seems to be the only way to keep harmony on the ship.”
“I see little chance she’ll go.”
“Why?” Jim said.
“She seems to be determined to see the project out. She’s most interested in the colonists and has asked Chris several times to see the passenger list.”
“Huh?” Jim exclaimed, reacting to a sudden thought. “She thinks someone she knew is still alive? It left ninety years after she did. That would be next to impossible.”
“It’s possibly news of someone or a descendant of whoever she misses, maybe her family.”
“But,” Jim said, “she said she hated her parents and is glad they’re gone.”
“Brothers? Sisters?”
“Only child”
“She could be lying about hating her parents.”
Jim laughed quietly to himself. “I’ve read the passenger list for that exact same reason. I don’t blame her. It’s quite a natural thing to do. There are five Youngs on board but none of their backgrounds even vaguely indicate they might be descendents of my brother.”
“How do you know?”
“My brother’s blood type was A, his wife’s was B. All three of their children were AB’s. If they were descendants, then they would be his children’s children. That means they would have to be A, B or AB. Four of them are O and the one B is a black man from Birmingham, England.”
“Why couldn’t it be him?”
Jim shrugged. “Alan’s youngest, Tim, had a black girlfriend in kindergarten, but I really can’t see them moving to England.”
Carol burst out laughing. “Now I’m getting ridiculous. The odds are impossible, even if they did come from... uh… where was your brother living?”
“Miami, Florida.”
“On the observation deck Karla said something about a Charlie. She also mentioned a bottomless pit.”
Jim shrugged. “How many millions of Charlie’s were there on Earth? A bottomless pit? That could refer to a dozen different things.”
The two talked well into the evening then went for a midnight stroll half a kilometer away from their camp. They cuddled as best they could, encumbered by the pressure suits.
Chapter 7
Jim couldn’t sleep. It was 2 a.m. standard time so he decided to take a wander up to the observation deck. A beer and a quiet hour watching the stars could be just the thing for insomnia.
“Are you working or just relaxing with a good book?” Jim asked as he entered the observation deck.
Chris, comfortably reclining in an armchair, looked up from a data pad and smiled. “Working.”
“This time of night? Must be important. I’m up because I couldn’t sleep.”
Chris returned his attention to the pad. “Just going over the colonists wake up roster. It has to be rearranged to suit the new conditions. They really don’t need an astronomer in the first group; we can tell them exactly where they are. They don’t need a hydroponics tech. Instead of growing food while in orbit we can just import it.”
Jim took a seat close to Chris and reclined to indulge in one of his current, favorite pastimes. Exploring, with his eyes, the patchwork sections of the giant ship’s hull and trying to figure where each piece came from. His latest puzzle was a green section with small ridges. It looked like the side of a military transport plane but was larger than any Jim knew. “They’re going to get one hell of a surprise when they do wake up.”
Chris looked up. “That’s why they need to see your smiling faces first. We might confuse them a little too much like we confused you when you first arrived.”
“Yep, I can warn them before they sit on a modern toilet.” Jim smiled to himself when he remembered the scream he had let out the first time he used the bathroom and was attacked by an autosan. He didn’t expect the modern equivalent of toilet paper to get so personal. “So, how’s it coming with the roster?”
“Fine, just pondering over a few oddities in the original.”
“Oddities?”
“Yes, pick up your pad and take a look. I’ll shoot you the roster. What’s the pad’s number?”
Jim reached for the data pad on the side of his chair and pulled it from its bracket. “Pad thirty four.”
Chris tapped out an entry, one handed, on the base of his. “Coming through are the names of the first group to be awakened. There are fifty seven on the list.”
Jim watched the appearing text. “Albert Gutierrez, heating and air conditioner technician. They probably needed him for the ships atmospheric control. Dr. Molly Ellison, cryogenics specialist. That’s logical. John Foran, truck driver? What would they need him for?”
Chris shook his head. “No idea. Look further down the list. Chas Goodart, bouncer. What the hell is a bouncer?”
“Tough men who were employed by low class bars. If anyone became overly unruly, they would appear, slam them against a wall three times, stomp on their testicles twice then throw them through the door without bothering to open it first.”
&nb
sp; “Hmm... I can’t see much use for him under these conditions. Is it possibly a mistake?”
Jim thought for a moment then shrugged. “Manual labor? Lift, load and stack?”
“Not really, remember the three of you were more than enough to move that chamber. In fact, Celia could have done it by herself if necessary.”
“Open stuck doors? It took the excursion vehicle to open that first one.”
“I thought of that. I could understand there being two or three to do it, but out of fifty seven, ten have no obvious function. Here, look at this. Bill Coleman, army infantryman. Chung Wang, dock worker. Andrew Kabel... His primary profession was left blank.”
Jim thought for a moment. “Could they have been retrained at the last minute for a function that wasn’t listed? Remember they had to do things in one big rush. Forgetting to add their new skills to the computer bank was possibly an oversight.”
“Possible, but according to their I.Q. listings, some of them had the intelligence of a potted plant. There must’ve been others who would’ve better served the purpose. Look further down the list, that one, number forty three. Ben Stutchman, and I quote the occupation, ‘International Playboy, ha ha.’ What’s this, someone’s idea of a joke? It was serious business putting these lists together. A life or death decision with the personnel they chose to have on hand when they first woke up and someone’s making stupid entries like this?”
Jim looked the list over again noticing another entry as ‘Social Secretary.’ “In the confusion they probably stuck some crackpot on the keyboard. It happens.”
“Well I’ve rearranged the whole thing to correct the problem. The first party will be composed of nothing but experts in cryogenics, atmospheric control, equipment repair, maintenance and astro engineering. The second party will be the biologists, cartographers, meteorologists, geologists and the planetary conversion techs. We’ll have to retrain most of them for the new equipment on its way.”
Jim stood and stretched. “That reminds me, I have to check on the progress of that freighter. It was due to make the jump sometime tonight. It’s a pity that the colony ship’s in such bad shape. I was hoping to have at least a few of them up when it arrived.”
Chris returned his attention to the pad in his hand. “It’ll give us time to rework this wake up schedule. There won’t be a single international playboy on the list when I’m finished with it.”
Jim quickly searched his mind for a plausible explanation. “You never know, he was probably added for the comic relief. Wake him up and we’ll find out.”
“That’s what Karla said.”
Jim turned with a curious smile. “She’s come out of hiding?”
“Oh yes, just keeping clear of you, Carol and Earl. In fact she’s being quite helpful. Went over to the ship yesterday and gave Levin a hand locating a few pieces of equipment he needed.”
Jim walked back and took a seat again. “I guess we’ll just have to stay off of certain subjects when talking to her.”
“I won’t disagree,” Chris said.
“Since the existence of the ship was announced, she’s become quite edgy. I guess it’s the impossible idea that someone she knows could be on it.”
“Possibly true, she keeps going over the manifest searching for someone. She asked me the other day if it was possible for a working cryogenics system to have been invented a lot earlier than we thought. When I told her that I didn’t think it possible she got quite upset.”
Jim’s expression became sullen. “I guess I have the same fantasy. A day dream that my brother Alan caught some strange disease after I left and was put into suspended animation until they found a cure. Then, by some strange stroke of coincidence they piled him aboard this ship at the last minute. My delusion sounds like the plot of a second rate science fiction novel.”
Chris appeared amused over the extension of the laws of probability. “We do have one on board that was alive when you left.”
“Really?” Jim said excitedly as both eyebrows shot up. “What’s the name?”
“Charles Stutchman, sixty one years old.”
“Is he related to the international playboy?”
Chris smiled. “Yep, father.”
“Don’t recall the name,” Jim stood again and stretched. “Millions to one that I had anything to do with him. I didn’t have many young kids as drinking buddies.”
Leaving the observation deck by a forward corridor Jim made his way to a narrow spiral staircase leading to the deck below. The bottom of the stairs emptied at right angles into another corridor. To the right, it led forward and ended at a closed door with a brass plaque inscribed ‘Main Bridge’. To the left it went for ten meters with doors either side.
A glint of light illuminated the bulkhead opposite an open portal. It changed colors as he watched and heard low voices in conversation. It was the crew 3V room and some sort of show was in progress.
Jim walked to the door and peeked inside. Three armchairs faced an active image. One chair was occupied.
“Hi Jim,” Marie said over her shoulder. “You’ll never guess what I’m watching. Computer, sound level one.”
Jim shrugged as he watched the image of a man walking down a back street followed by three rather disreputable looking characters. They talked to each other in the lowest volume level of the room.
“That actor is what’s his name Nash, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and it’s that 3V called ‘The Aftermath’.”
“Oh,” Jim said as he broke into a broad grin. “I thought the street looked familiar.”
“Ah...” she said and looked at him in surprise. “It’s about you when you first arrived and had all that trouble with the Church of the Prophet. Haven’t you seen it?”
“Bits. I thought the live show was more exciting.”
“Good heavens, it’s one of the most popular 3Vs around.”
“I don’t watch that much 3V,” Jim said, half turning to leave.
Marie glanced back to watch the action. “I was hoping that you’d tell me if it was authentic or not.”
Jim shook his head. “I spent hours talking to a voice recorder for the producers, then a couple of days of questioning. I don’t see why it shouldn’t be, they have all the information.”
“Oh, here’s an exciting part. Computer, sound level five.”
“Albert, is there anyone coming yet?” the actor asked as he thumped a bank machine with his fist.
“Well,” Jim said. “I can’t remember hitting the thing.”
“Yes,” another voice said, “one man, and he’s running this way.”
“And he’s not nearly as good looking as I am,” Jim said.
Both Jim and Marie glanced over their shoulders and gave each other a droll smile.
As Jim reached the door to the bridge, the sound of a 3V pistol shot behind him from a Colt 38 made him jump.
The door opened to a view of the bridge with all its confusing array of technical gadgetry.
Rick turned in his swivel chair and when he saw who was entering slowly stood. “Good evening Mr. Young. You’re up late. Can’t sleep?”
“I’ve told you before,” Jim said crustily, “it’s Jim. One more Mr. Young and you’re fired.”
“Captain Mull calls you Mr. Young.”
“I’m going to have to break her of that habit too. Has the freighter come through yet?”
“Yes.” Rick said, returning to the screen he had been watching. “Came through about half an hour ago.”
Jim walked over and looked up at the flat screen mounted behind a console on the right. A single bright blue dot appeared amongst a cloud of smaller red ones. To the right of the blue dot a small block of text and numerals in yellow gave information that Jim didn’t comprehend.
“How’s it doing?”
“Looks just fine to me. It’s in the deceleration phase. Should arrive within eighteen hours.”
“It’s good the thing’s not manned. What would the G force be on it
s contents right now?”
“About eight G.”
“Have you ever been in a ship under that type of force?”
“Oh yes,” Rick announced with pride. “In the merchant space academy. Eight G for eight hours was required for graduation. Special pressure beds were needed but I still felt like my bones were being forced out my ass.”
“One of these days I might like to try it just for the experience.”
Rick chuckled out loud. “You sure have a weird concept of what’s fun. Most of the cadets at the academy try to... Ah.”
“What is it?” Jim asked as he saw Rick jerk forward and stare at the screen.
He reached for the touch controls on the panel below. “Watch this, I’ll replay it.”
Jim concentrated on the blue dot. Seconds later it flickered and enlarged slightly. The figures in the small text box changed as it did then returned to their original values.
“What does that mean?”
“The silhouette of the ship just increased slightly in area.”
Jim shrugged. “What would make it do that?”
“There are a number of possibilities. A faulty stabilizer jet on the ship causing its tail to swing. The increase is its rear coming around for a moment or two. Then again, it could be maneuvering its way through a cloud of space debris too small for us to detect from here. At its velocity, it has to make rather violent movements to avoid collisions, and again, what we are seeing is its tail.”
“Logical explanations?”
“Then again, there is a possibility that it could be a fault in our system.”
“Well I hope that isn’t the case,” Jim said indignantly. “This stuff cost me a fortune.”
Rick smiled, obviously amused. “It has a twenty year warranty Mr... ah... Jim.”
“Yes, but does the Maytag repair man come this far out to make a house call?”
“Ah... This equipment was manufactured by the Hammersly corporation. Never heard of Maytag before.”
“Does the Hammersly repair man sit in his shop all day with his feet up?”
Rick shrugged. “Ah...”
Jim chuckled to himself while observing Rick’s confusion. “Could it be anything else?”
To Wake the Living (The Time Stone Trilogy Book 2) Page 13
