Nara

by M. L. Buchman

  The round of applause that swelled up from the cabin occupants didn’t enable his hand to unclench from the joystick. What they’d just done would be easy compared to getting off this thing.

  A flashing red light drew his attention back to the main console.

  “Uh, Cappy?”

  “Yea?” Bryce could hear the exhaustion and elation mixed in his voice.

  Bryce pointed at the flashing indicator. “Their hatch is too damn small for our load of trees.”

  # # #

  “I can’t believe that I agreed to work on this screwy project.” Richard Davidson glared at Suz over his coffee bulb clutched like a man grasping the last vine over a thousand meter chasm.

  The zero-gee of the low-orbit skipper made it feel as if they were falling and would soon splatter on the rocks below, except Earth was a thousand kilometers below and Stellar One was just a hundred more ahead. The small, graying man was overwhelmed by the forest green padding of his large launch seat. He now turned to face hers across the middle aisle.

  A small bevy of engineers clustered in the rear seats in whispers of awe. Davidson never left the ground, ever. Yet this woman had swept in and within minutes the whole team had commandeered a launch and were in space.

  Suz reached over and patted his hand. “And you love our little project, don’t you?”

  Davidson shook his head side-to-side, wearier than a bull deciding whether to charge. “Yes, I do, damn you, Suz Jeffers. That ship inspires me, like, like nothing I’ve ever imagined. And you’re making it real. You know that my great-grandfather was on the first moonwalk team?”

  She shook her head. He came by his craft honestly. They’d put men on the moon with spit and chemical rockets. Suz didn’t know who to admire more, the engineers who’d figured out how to build the rockets or the men crazy enough to ride kilotons of high-explosive into the sky without a single navi-comm on the planet.

  “No, Richard. Didn’t know that.”

  Davidson was the most formal man she’d ever met. He must be beyond exhaustion to curse her. But he was the best mission controller Hanoi Launch had, and she’d grant him a lot of quirks for that. He’d agreed to help her build Stellar One and he was one of the main reasons it was going so well. The first colony ship to the stars was rapidly taking shape in orbit. And it had only taken a year for him to use her first name.

  “What can I do to help?” Suz clipped her own coffee into a chair arm to let it cool.

  He focused his bloodshot eyes on her.

  “Other than force you to sleep once in a while?”

  “How old are you girl?”

  “Old enough to not have been called a girl in a long time by anyone other than my father.” Suz bit her tongue as the darkness descended like a hammer blow on his first-ever flirt with her. They both knew her father far too well.

  Davidson cleared his throat loudly and sought a change of subject, but it was clear that his weary mind wasn’t up to it.

  “We were talking about the shuttle pilot of the jungle load.”

  He nodded in thanks and for a moment she thought the nod would settle right into sleep, but the hot caffeine wouldn’t let him go. Another sip of his coffee and his head swiveled more upward than downward.

  “Right. The pilot.” Davidson slid back in his chair. “You know what the bastard did?”

  She’d heard, that’s why they were all headed to orbit. Hell, she’d make up any excuse to go see her ship. But this time there was a need.

  Suz shook her head to give Davidson something to wrap his mind around. Something to sharpen the intelligence that was going to launch ten thousand humans toward the stars with what was actually little more knowledge than his great-grandfather had possessed.

  “He parks that big-assed shuttle of his on the inside of Ring Four. Some of the best damn piloting I’ve ever seen. I sent the record of it to Hanoi Launch Training Division. Let their recruits chew awhile on what a seat-of-the-pants pilot can do.” And he’d be testing them on it.

  “Anyway, he pulls off this bit of magic and some idiot had altered my specs. The hatches mated just fine. But the size of the doors had been reduced to a lousy ten square meters. Some idiot decided to shave costs and decked over most of the space.”

  Suz had already ferreted out that particular idiot. He was now doing cost accounting for a ship ballast manufacturer.

  Davidson sucked another mouthful of coffee, not wincing at the scalding heat.

  “And after he does this beautiful trick, the controller told him he had to get back off until they fixed the problems. I did not send the record of that conversation to training, but perhaps I should have. There was a stream of classic invective such as it has rarely been my pleasure to hear. And he kept most of it in modern, though he slid into English, Spanish, and something that might have been Gaelic. At least that was the translator’s best guess. Something about the controller’s breasts having less appealing features than a cow’s beshatted udders. But the software wasn’t sure, he was spewing it out pretty fast.”

  Suz would have to look into finding that record. Her expression must have given her away.

  “A nice, young lady like you shouldn’t want to hear such a thing.” He tapped a commpad built into the chair’s arm for a few moments. “There, I forwarded the archive to you. Naughty stuff, Suz. Naughty stuff. I’m surprised at you.”

  “There are many things about me that might surprise you.”

  “Try me.” Davidson cracked a weary smile that raised one corner of his mouth.

  “When was the last you swam naked with a seven-meter crocodile?”

  “Wish I’d seen that.” The rest of his mouth joined in.

  She knew the answer, but couldn’t resist the question. “And you would be watching…?”

  “Why the croc, of course. Never seen one up close.” The smile reached his eyes with a merry twinkle. “Magnificent creatures.”

  Then he caught her look and cleared his throat.

  “Crocodiles you’re meaning?”

  “Yes. Of course,” he cleared his throat again before turning his gaze back to the viewer, Stellar One was now the brightest star in the sky and was actually close enough to show a visible disk.

  She eyed him speculatively while he stared at the ship. Not much taller or bigger around than herself. Chief Mission Controller Richard Davidson had two things she most respected: a sharp mind and the willingness to use it. An attractive combination in a neatly packaged man. She swallowed against a dry throat and shifted her gaze before he could turn and see where her next thoughts were leading her.

  “So now, the pilot has shut down, pulled his computer core, and bailed out Earthside. He and his copilot are on some kind of a wild drinking binge on an island in the South Pacific. The arborealist and biologist are having complete fits trying to keep the first load alive.”

  Stellar now filled the view screen. She never got tired of watching it spin, ever since that first hologram model she’d dug up at Hanoi Engineering had initially resolved over her desk.

  “Damn, Suz, look at what we’ve built.”

  She could only nod; something else was filling her throat. The great rings sparkled even after she wiped at her eyes.

  Humanity would have a home among the stars. And while it wouldn’t be gone from orbit before the Wanderer hit the sun, it wouldn’t be long afterward. And they would be safe. No single comet could ever again threaten the entire human race.

  The blemish of the small shuttle on Ring Four marred the perfect symmetry, as did the lack of Ring Five and the much slower third ring going through speed testing. But it was coming together.

  “How much does the shuttle mass?”

  Davidson blinked at her.

  “Is it straining the ring couplings?”

  “Can’t be more than ten or twenty thousand tons, even fully l
oaded. Shouldn’t have any effect. Don’t worry, Suz, we did good. We built her to last.”

  He patted her hand and absently sucked on the coffee bulb. This time she really looked at the man. His file placed him just six years older than her, the graying must be premature, and it only colored about his temples giving the impression of age and authority. He wasn’t handsome, but there was a life, a vibrancy that rippled like the solar wind past bloodshot eyes and slouching shoulders.

  Here was a man absolutely in command of his element. And totally passionate about his beliefs. Did he doubt his actions? She didn’t think for a single second

  Every single one of her actions filled her with the panic of uncertainty. Every action but one. And that one was spinning in reality, just beyond the viewport, now large enough to make out the shuttle’s name large in blue along her space-orange side. Lazy Jane was a hard-working girl. It was time they got her uncoupled and back about her job.

  She took his hand, warm from the coffee, but rough. He did something more than run a desk. They were strong man’s hands that were used for labor on a daily basis. He still worked the engine assembly line where he’d started, at least an hour or so a day. He squeezed her fingers and held on, not turning from the mesmerizing child they had birthed together into the sky.

  # # #

  “Still think I’m crazy?”

  Robbie nodded vigorously. “Utterly and completely nuts.”

  SJ grinned up at her. “If only I weren’t so proud of it.”

  “If only.” She tried to keep a straight face, but that was impossible around SJ. Last night over dinner, SJ had even connived to get Jaron drunk and laughing, a feat she’d never have achieved. If not for the way she smiled at the chief flight controller, Robbie might have been jealous. But again, that was impossible with SJ. It was unfathomable that this merry imp had approached her less than a year ago and asked for a jungle to be delivered. Now they stood inside her creation.

  The plas decking that supported Robbie’s feet looked solid. The engineers assured her there were micropores that would allow proper water drainage beneath the jungle’s soil without allowing dirt or over-ambitious burrowers to penetrate.

  The broad sheet of gray-white stretched fifty meters to the left and right and curved nearly out of sight spinward and anti-spinward. Or spin and anti-spin, as had been rapidly adopted, which was still awkward but it was an improvement. Over an eighth of an entire ring of Stellar One was to be her jungle, except for a small side corridor along the side of the biome and the maintenance level below.

  The side walls jutted irregularly, sometimes for only a meter or so, at other times the height of a three-story building. They were already colored to be indistinguishable from rock. During design, Robbie had drawn in planters and streams to enhance the naturalness of the form, and though everything was exactly as she’d specified, it was the least living place she’d ever been. Even Jaron couldn’t fault the design when they’d walked the space meter-by-square meter over a three-day period waiting for the hatch replacement.

  Above the rock walls there was sky, as bright and boundless as all of outdoors on a fine spring day. The only flaw to the image was in the very center. Fifteen stories above, a vast opening mated with the shuttle. The engineers had performed a miracle.

  And thanks to SJ’s boyfriend and his people, it was finally time to see how her jungle team had done. The shuttle doors swung upward, opening the passageway into Stellar One.

  A small craft emerged and fell toward them so quickly that she feared they would crash through the decking and the maintenance level below before punching outward into space. Without even slowing, its operator swung down beside her and pulled up sharply. Tons of soil cascaded in a neat layer three meters thick. A cloud of fine dusts brought the scent of the composting jungle soils to this artificial world. Life had come to the jungle biome. The next vehicles did the same and the instant that they danced aside, several vehicles dropped to fill in their position.

  A small, dark speck fell from the hatch and plummeted downward. Something or someone had fallen. The handling crew said that wouldn’t happen. It was coming straight at her and she didn’t have a hard hat on. She tried to dodge aside, but the speck veered toward her. At the last instant there was a telltale flash of red.

  “Harold,” she raised an arm as SJ began laughing.

  He fluttered to a halt and settled upon her padded forearm with a very loud squawk.

  “You are just ever so pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” She struggled to catch her breath. She didn’t want to let her patron know how she feared that it was Jaron plummeting to his death due to one of his famous bouts of inattention.

  “Bro-brie.” He bobbed his head in his most satisfied manner. “Bro-brie.”

  She moved him to her shoulder as she spied the first tree descending. Of course they started with the biggest tree. Why had she insisted they move the Ceiba on the first trip? Six handlers, clad in their full deep-space gear, though their helmets were open, were jetting about in oversized suits with clamps and claws. They were swinging the massive tree and its root ball with an apparent lack of care that worried Robbie. But they were recruited from the plas girder handlers, one of highest levels of personnel in the space station construction hierarchy. She just had to remind herself that they were used to moving girders and trusses at least as big and with a mass greater than Mother Nature’s best efforts.

  A digger crawled up the embankment of soil that now spread in a broad circle in the center of the jungle biosphere area. She took a few quick readings on the corner navigation beacons. She’d specified them so that they could consistently relocate the same plant if needed. She marked the spot for the digger with a stamp of her boot. Within moments a great hollow had been excavated. The digger had barely moved aside before the root ball slammed into place and the first leaves were shaken free upon the virgin soil of Stellar One’s jungle biome.

  Once vertical was confirmed, the digger slashed open the root ball wrap, backfilled, and drove away. The handlers headed back toward the hatch above.

  She pulled out a radio. “Hey, where’s my water? These have to be watered the moment they hit.”

  Instantly Jaron was on the air from his position above. He totally overrode the water carrier’s response.

  “That water is critical. You have to get them to hurry up, Robbie. You know we discussed that with them twice this morning. Clearing the air pockets from where they might be lodged on the dendritic roots is essential. They promised—”

  Robbie ignored his continued harangue as Harold tapped and poked at the radio trying to find his master’s voice. The water carrier trundled into sight. She waved at him with her radio and he returned the wave with his. She pointed, received a thumbs up, and moved out of the way to avoid having a shower this early in the day. Multiple nozzles extended simultaneously and, like a giant spider, plunged into the earth with a satisfying roar of water.

  The digger already had the next two holes ready before she noticed he hadn’t stopped working to listen to Jaron either. She took a few quick sights and decided first that he was right on the plan, and second, that if she didn’t get out of the way she could be planted under the next tree.

  SJ had moved off to one side and perched on a protrusion of plas. Perhaps Robbie should take a hint and just leave the specialists to their job. She could tend her trees once they were set into place. They’d introduce Jaron’s animals after all of the soil and trees were in so that none would be inadvertently crushed. There was plenty of biota in the soil they were dumping in such amazing quantities.

  A wide circle now filled the center of the floor and a half-dozen trees towered upward, reaching for the burnished blue sky. She almost slipped into the illusion when another massive tree, a Sumaumeira this time, descended through the hole in sky. It came branches first, as if growing in the most complete stop-action holography until
the root ball emerged and the delicate ballet of flipping a twenty-ton tree repeated itself.

  SJ waved her over. Robbie lumbered up the rise of the still-empty plas decking, Harold flapping about to keep his balance, until she reached a flat spot. At first the broad dip in the plas ahead confused her. This hadn’t been exposed before, or she’d have noticed. But Robbie had walked every centimeter of the space over the last few days.

  There’d been a welder here, the large rig sprawling and dangerous with its broad, jerky movements. They’d avoided this one place. It hadn’t registered that the entire space was finished, but the plas fabricator had spent two days in this one place. SJ hadn’t wanted her to see this, whatever it was. At least not until now. She stumbled down into the depression, it was as deep as she was tall and a dozen meters long. A fine sand covered the bottom, it grated against the plas.

  Robbie gazed up at SJ perched on the rim. She patted a perfect imitation of a lichen-covered boulder that rose beside her. Robbie clambered out of the hole and rapped it with her knuckles. Not plas, honest rock. Then Robbie knew exactly where she was.

  “How—” It was impossible.

  “I had it brought up after you lifted. Consider it my gift to you.”

  The rock, comfortably perched on the edge of the swimming hole, was clearly her sunning rock from along the Orinoco. It was even oriented the same way to the pool that would someday soon flow with water. A small jungle river. She sat up on her perch and looked over at the little woman filled with immense ideas.

  SJ pointed down at the pool. “We couldn’t fit the whole river, but this swimming hole has sensors and special flow jets and recirc-pumps. You can swim as fast and as hard as you want and you’ll always have enough flow to stay within the pool. Or you can let the natural flow of the stream idle through and barely stir the waters.”

  Robbie could only flap her hands, little better than a parrot at expressing her feelings. It was perfect. And it was real. For the first time, like being kissed for the first time after too much imagining, the heat was real. The body was real. And now, after a year of thought games and computer simulations, the journey was real.