The getaway special

by Jerry Oltion

  Judy grinned. "I think he's just trying to out-do you."

  Allen started walking back toward Trent and Donna's house. "Maybe. Whatever his motives, we've got a financial backer. That's better than we had this morning."

  "We've got a sugar daddy, is what we've got. And I still don't like how he got his money. But I guess beggars can't be choosers."

  "Nope."

  Allen led them past the street the house was on, then turned in at the alley beyond it. Judy looked behind them, half expecting to see Dale's van or a black sedan full of FBI agents tailing them, but there was nobody in sight. A dog barked from behind a high board fence, but it stopped as soon as they were past.

  Judy looked at the packed gray dirt of the alley, at the dingy snowbanks with strands of windblown brown grass poking through. It all seemed so normal, so mundane. If the memory of yesterday's flight weren't so fresh in her mind, she could almost believe she was a little girl again, exploring the neighborhood around her house with the boy from across the street.

  Then again, maybe she was doing just that. Or getting ready to, anyway. It was just a bigger neighborhood than she was used to.

  "Are we really going to use a septic tank for a spaceship?"

  Allen kicked at a loose rock, which skittered a few feet ahead of them down the alley. "Unless you can think of something better. A septic tank is designed to hold up against the weight of half a dozen feet of dirt; it's probably the sturdiest pressure vessel we're likely to find on short notice."

  "I guess." She kicked at the rock, but it veered into a snowbank in the lee of a garbage can. "What about the emergency descent module? We hid it pretty well. It's probably still out there, and we know it'll hold air."

  "That's about all it'll hold. We want something we can at least pack a lunch in. We're talking about traveling to another star, not—"

  "We're talking about building a spaceship out of a septic tank," Judy said. "I'm just thinking maybe it would be smart to start with something that was actually designed to be used in space."

  "The hyperdrive was designed to be used in space," Allen said with a wounded tone to his voice. And it nearly smashed them into the Moon, Judy thought, but she didn't say it. "We could at least rob it for parts," she said. "The parachute, if nothing else. And maybe the acceleration couches." Allen nodded. "Good point. I might be able to use some of the switches and stuff, too. Is this the right house?" They had reached a pink house with light blue trim, but from the back it was hard to tell if it was the same house they had left.

  The garage was on the right side. The big elm tree in the back yard looked familiar. Judy looked at the house's windows and compared them to the arrangement of rooms she remembered. "I think this is it." She opened the gate and walked up to the garage s side window, standing on tiptoe to look in without stepping in the flower bed next to the wall. There was nothing growing in it at the moment, but she didn't want to compact the soil over any of Donna's bulbs.

  She had to shield her eyes from the sun to see inside, but when her pupils dilated enough, she could see the spacesuits piled in a heap on the floor beside the workbench.

  "This is the place."

  They went around to the front and let themselves in, stamping the snow off their boots at the door. The warm air inside the house was a welcome reprieve from the winter day outside. They hung their borrowed coats in the closet and Judy went into the kitchen to make something hot to drink. There was still half a pot of coffee from breakfast on the warmer, but Judy wasn't really that fond of coffee. She opened the pantry to look for tea, but she spotted can of Swiss Miss on the top shelf and decided on that instead. There was even a bag of mini-marshmallows to go with it. It felt odd to help herself to things in someone else's kitchen, but Donna had told her to make herself at home, and at the moment she desperately needed to feel at home somewhere. She was trying not to dwell on the enormity of what she and Allen had done, or of what they intended to do yet, but when she let her guard down she could feel it hovering at the edge of her mind, waiting for its chance to overwhelm her.

  When she carried the two steaming cups of chocolate into the living room, she found Allen sitting in front of their hosts' computer, downloading something off the internet.

  "What are you getting?" she asked, setting the cup down beside the keyboard.

  "The email I sent to INSANE. I wanted to see how hard it would be to get. Plus I need a copy of the control software. I had to leave my notebook on the shuttle."

  "The files are still available? I would have thought the government would have shut down any site that offered them."

  Allen took a sip of his chocolate. "Mmm. Thanks. Nope, they can't do that. There are too many private servers to shut 'em all down. They're trying to overload the net so nobody can connect, and they're spamming everybody's email, but the local server is too small for them to give their full attention. I got right on and went to their virus alert page, and there were the attached files I emailed to INSANE. Labeled 'Dangerous, do not open' of course, but they were there."

  "You're sure they're the right files? I wouldn't put it past the government to screw with them so they won't work even if people do realize what they really are."

  The files finished downloading. Allen opened the one called "Hyperdrive.pdf" and scrolled through it. "This is the file that describes how to build the drive," he said. "It looks right. It still has all my typos, at least. And that's the file I would have expected to be altered if they were going to. Screwing with the drive design would just keep it from working, but altering the control program could get people killed." Judy wondered if some of the cloak-and-dagger types in the CIA would see that as a bad thing. If the hyperdrive proved deadly, that could work in their favor.

  The memory of dropping into the atmosphere in a ball of flame made her shudder so badly she had to set her cup of chocolate down to keep from spilling it. "People are going to get killed even if the drive and the control program work perfectly," she said. "Space isn't a forgiving environment. One mistake can kill you even if all your equipment is working fine."

  Allen looked up from the computer screen. "Just like cars," he said. "To most people, the benefits are worth the risk. It'll be the same with hyperdrive. Better, actually, since you're not nearly as likely to kill an innocent bystander if you lose control."

  True enough, but she couldn't help wondering how many would-be astronauts would weed themselves out of the gene pool in the next few weeks simply by underestimating the danger. They were going to be dropping like meteors across alien skies, and even if they made it to the ground intact, they wouldn't have the equipment to survive long on a completely unexplored planet. Hell, most people couldn't survive long if you dropped them in a wilderness area on Earth. But some people could. Some people could survive in Antarctica with only a backpack full of food and a pair of skis. And those were the type who were most likely to go into space. Yeah, right. Like herself.

  Now she understood what Carl had been thinking yesterday on board the Discovery. He wanted to go into space just as badly as she did, but he wanted to do it slowly, carefully, a step at a time. He wanted the vast infrastructure of NASA and the military industrial complex behind him. He wanted hardware that had been tested thousands of times under every conceivable condition, and he wanted redundant systems that would back it up if anything went wrong. He wanted safe, reliable spaceflight, glamorous and interesting but no more dangerous than being an actor or a musician. He wanted exactly what she wanted.

  Neither one of them were going to get it. Flying the shuttle was hardly safer than flying a fighter jet in combat, and it was the safest spacecraft ever built. Judy had struggled to overcome her terror every time she went up. The only reason she'd done it was because she couldn't have lived with herself if she didn't. In that regard, Allen was right: the benefits were worth the risk.

  He had opened the control program and was examining the code. "Looks clean to me. I can run simulations to be sure, but I'm nearly c
ertain this is the original article."

  "Good," said Judy. She picked up her mug and forced her hands to be still while she sipped her hot chocolate. The web browser's window peeked over the top of the program window, and she read the top line banner: Nasdaq down 500 points. As she watched, the number changed to 550.

  "Holy shit," she said, pointing. "Look at that."

  "It'll rebound," Allen said.

  "It had better. Most of my retirement money is in technology stocks."

  "Switch them to septic tank manufacturers," Allen said with a smile. "Or seed companies."

  "Seed companies?"

  "Sure. People aren't just going to use this to explore. We're going to see a wave of colonization that'll make the American West look like a practice run. They're going to need seeds for crops, harvesting equipment, farm animals, medical supplies, toothbrushes, soap, clothing, music, books, and who knows what all else." He held out his hands, palms up. "People are going to be buying everything it takes to reconstruct civilization somewhere else. And since it'll be just as easy to come back for more equipment as it will be to get wherever they're going, people will keep buying stuff on Earth for years to come. The economy will boom."

  "I'll be damned." Judy sipped at her chocolate, glad for the warmth of the mug in her hands. "So what sort of stuff do we need to take with us?"

  "Good question. Let's do a little brainstorming." Allen disconnected from the net and opened a blank email document.

  "Who are you emailing?" she asked him.

  "Nobody. It's just the easiest way to get a text document."

  "Oh."

  "So let's think about what we need for our trip." He typed: Equipment manifest, then said, "How about if we organize according to Maslow's hierarchy of needs? Air first." He typed compressed oxygen

  . "Then water, then food. The ship will be our shelter." He added each item to the list as he named it. Judy tried to think what would be the next most important thing after basic survival was assured.

  "Energy," she said, remembering the half of the hyperdrive that Allen had thrown away to change his vector during his jump from the shuttle to the space station. "Specifically, batteries. Lights. Heat." What else did they need that would require power? "Another notebook computer."

  "Right. The spacesuits. The parachute from the emergency descent module. Some kind of servo or explosive bolt system to release it on command."

  Judy sat down on the edge of the couch next to the computer desk. "Acceleration couches," she said.

  "Wait up," Allen said, still typing. He caught up, then added security cameras without saying it aloud.

  "What's that for?"

  "Electronic windows. If we mount cameras outside and have a monitor inside, we don't have to cut holes for windows. Or worry about them blowing out."

  "Oh. Good idea."

  "Of course. I thought of it." He grinned.

  "We're drifting off Maslow's list," she said. "What have we skipped?"

  "Sex," Allen said. "But I'm assuming we can generate that locally when we need it."

  "You are, are you?"

  "Hope springs eternal," he replied, blushing slightly.

  "True enough," she said, remembering who had maneuvered whom into the sack last night. She still tingled when she thought about it. Who would have thought that a mad scientist could be such an accomplished lover as well?

  They looked at one another with undisguised lust for a moment, and she allowed herself to fantasize about ripping his borrowed clothes off right there in the living room, but she finally shook her head and said, "Spaceship first. What else do we need to take with us?"

  "Zip-together sleeping bags," Allen said.

  "Okay."

  "Cooking equipment."

  "Right. And a camp stove."

  He wrote that down. The first item on the list scrolled off the top of the screen.

  "Toilet paper," she said. "And a shovel."

  16

  They were still at it when Trent and Donna returned home from work. Trent showed up first, leaving his pickup parked on the street and walking warily to the front door rather than parking in the garage like he had last night. Judy met him at the door, and he looked past her into the living room before he spoke.

  "Everything okay?" he asked.

  "The coast is clear."

  He nodded slowly. "Good. Be right in." He went back out to his pickup and drove it into the garage. Judy could see him talking to someone on a cell phone as he went past the window. Had he arranged for backup if there was trouble waiting for him at home? It certainly looked like it. He came in from the garage a couple minutes later, his right hand in his coat pocket. Judy thought the bulge there was bigger than his hand alone would make.

  "How, um, how was your day?" she asked.

  "Okay," he said. "How was yours?"

  "Pretty good. We've been making plans. We have a fair idea of what we need to do, and it looks like we can get the money to do it with."

  Trent looked over at Allen, still seated in front of the computer. "Have you checked the news yet?"

  "Off and on," he said. "Looks like the stock market is down. The government is still trying to blow a smoke screen, but the real news is spreading just as fast as the lies." Trent nodded. "Radio was full of it all day. They're calling you crazy. Say you're armed and dangerous."

  "Crazy is probably accurate," Allen admitted. "Maybe even dangerous, depending on the circumstances, but I'm armed only in the biological sense."

  Trent thought it over, then pulled his hand free of his coat pocket. There was still a sizable lump left behind. He opened the closet by the door and hung his coat inside, rummaging around a bit longer than was necessary. Judy bet the gun wasn't in the same coat anymore.

  His hands were empty when he closed the door and stepped into the living room. "It was pretty hard to concentrate on roofing today, knowin' you two were here."

  "I imagine so," Judy said. "We're sorry to be causing so much trouble."

  "I didn't mean it like that," Trent said quickly. "I don't mind seein' things get shook up a little around here. It's kind of fun knowin' something nobody else in town knows." Judy heard tires crunching ice in the driveway, and looked up to see Donna s car rolling past the window. A minute later she emerged from the garage, her cheeks glowing rosy from the cold and her arms full of groceries.

  "I picked up some stuff on the way home," she said. "I hope you like pork chops." Judy went into the kitchen and helped her unload the bags, then set to work peeling potatoes and boiling them while Donna and Trent cleaned up and changed into more comfortable clothes. Trent popped open Budweisers for everyone, handing the cold aluminum cans around without even asking if they wanted any, but Judy was glad to have it. The alcohol took the edge off her nerves, and the smell of food cooking made everything seem homey and safe, at least for the moment.

  "So," Trent said, spinning a kitchen chair around and straddling it backward, "what's your plan?" Judy looked at Allen. Allen looked at her, then at Trent. "We've, ah, found a suitable pressure vessel," he said. "We've come up with a pretty extensive list of equipment we'll need to turn it into a starship, but it's mostly stuff we can buy locally. Except for the ultralight airplanes. We'll have to have those delivered."

  "Ultralight airplanes?" Donna asked over the crackle of frying meat.

  "Yeah. If we actually find a habitable planet, we figure we'll want some kind of transportation when we get there. It would be a shame to go all that way and then be stuck exploring what we can reach on foot."

  "Good point," Trent said. He cocked his head to the side, thinking, then shrugged and took a pull off his beer. "Lots of ways around that," he said, "but a plane ought to do. Have you flown before?" Judy laughed, "Yes. I'm a shuttle pilot, remember?"

  "Oh, right."

  Allen cleared his throat. "We were wondering if you'd be amenable to going back out where you found us and seeing if our emergency descent module is still there. If nobody's found it yet, we
could use a lot of the hardware off of it."

  Trent took another drink of his beer. "We could do that. Gets dark awful early this time of year, though. We'd have to do it with headlights, unless the Moon's out." Judy tried to remember what phase the Moon was in. It had looked full the last time she'd seen it, but that was because she'd been practically on top of it. She closed her eyes and visualized the geometry in her head: the Earth had been out the forward windows, a bright crescent cradling a dark ellipse, and the sun had been on the west side from her point of view, so that meant the Moon was about halfway between first quarter and full.

  "It should be up until about three," she said.

  Trent nodded. "All right, then. I guess we'll do a little midnight four-wheeling tonight." He grinned at the prospect. This was clearly not a hardship as far as he was concerned. "How big is this thing?" he asked. "Will it fit in the back of the truck?"

  She took the measure of it in her mind. "No problem."

  "How about weight? Can two guys lift it?"

  Weren't she and Donna invited? Donna had been out with him before, but Judy didn't know what the protocol was in four-wheeling. Or maybe he was thinking to protect the women from danger if the Feds had staked out the EDM.

  It didn't really matter to her. Bouncing over sagebrush wasn't her idea of a good time anyway, and she was long past the stage where she would let feminism make her do something she didn't want to do just to prove a point. Let Trent and Allen hoist the thing into the back of the truck. "You could probably skid it up a couple of planks," she said.

  "Good. What about this whatchacallit . . . pressure vessel of yours? Will it fit in the garage?"

  "Probably," Allen said. "But I feel bad taking over your place like this."

  "Don't worry about it. You won't be here that long. And if you'll show me how to build a starship of my own, I'll consider it a fair trade."

  There was a loud clatter from the kitchen as Donna dropped the spatula she was using to flip pork chops.

  "You okay in there?" Trent asked.