Laura knew the name, of course. Playboys and politicians, the various Winthrops had made the name both famous and infamous. But the face was familiar, too; hadn't she seen him attending classes at Lunar University? The smile changed his entire face, and he looked young and handsome. He was small for a Lunie, just over two meters. Laura realized that if they were standing against pull he would only come up to her chin. She looked down curiously at his extended hand and slowly put out her own. She jumped at his touch as he gently gripped her fingers, but she remembered that this greeting was still rather common on Earth. His hand was warm and smooth, and for a moment Laura wondered just when she had last felt the touch of another person.
"Are you from Luna or the planet?" she asked, and then wished she could withdraw the words. How could she ask so personal a question?
"I grew up on 'Mud'. Stunted my growth," said Win with a smile. "After graduation from the Space Academy, and getting my commission, I was scheduled to spend the rest of my life deep in the Pentagon. Thankfully my father managed to pull a few strings and save me from that fate. Got sent to Space Exploration grad school at Lunar U."
It was Orson's turn to be surprised. "You actually relocated just for grad school? Why didn't you take the classes by holovision?" He had a heavy accent that Laura couldn't identify; it hadn't been apparent during their discussions over the solnet.
"Yes," said Win, "my folks were pretty old-fashioned. My dad and granddad were both alumni, and they said college was better experienced with more than just your brain. Besides, my mom wanted me out of the house."
"Well, you are surely out of the house now," said Orson. "Shall I introduce you to the ship, Commander?"
Although officially Win was in command of this mission, he was known to be a relic of the old boy network that was still operative, even though it had lost most of its influence over the newly Scientific military community. After decades of science being warped toward military ends, scientists had gradually moved up the military ranks and changed it from within. Now the armed services were filled with the cream of the college crops, graduate school had replaced boot camp, and military missions were now undertaken for the purposes of exploration, utilization, and colonization rather than destruction. But there remained ingrained remnants of families with long-standing political influence. Win had done much of the work on the design of the many exploration and resource identification systems that they would be leaving deep inside the Barnard system and had worked with the team that had perfected the terraforming programs, but up until a month ago Win was to be just another member of the team of scientists and engineers that would come along later. Suddenly, the original commander of the Succor had been given a promotion he couldn't refuse, Win had been promoted to brigadier general, and put in charge of the mission. It would be some time before he grew to fill the label of Mission Commander that had been applied to him.
Orson's rank of colonel reflected the fact that he had designed most of the hardware on the spaceship Succor, including its super-intelligent computer, "Mike". Laura, the software expert, was the civilian on the mission. She and Orson had spent much virtual connect-time together "inside" Mike as they tuned Mike's hardware and software to optimum performance, then slowly "woke" the computer up and turned it into a nearly sentient being. Since she and Orson had participated in being Mike's "parents", she knew Orson well, but she and Win had only met on the solnet occasionally.
"They told me in flight school, 'Always do a walk-around inspection before you take her up,' " said Win, "so please do show me around."
"Virtual or real?" asked Orson.
"Real," replied Win.
"You're not going outside, are you?" exclaimed Laura. "That's dangerous—even in a hardsuit."
"Not real real," Orson assured her as he led them to the three compchairs on the central deck that would connect them to the main computer. "But instead of visiting a computer simulation to view what should be there, we will use roboproxies to physically inspect what is actually there."
The three soon were in the compchairs that connected them to Mike—arms connected through virtual gloves, eyes connected through virtual goggles, and brain connected via an infrared link from their spine implants to a receiver in the compchair headrest. Soon, all three were outside the ship in their roboproxy bodies as Orson showed them around.
Space seemed harsh and unpleasant. The sky was jet-black while all the pieces of hardware around them seemed either too bright with sunlight or too dark with shadow. But that was reality, exactly what Win wanted. As he listened to Orson, he kept the eyes of the roboproxy flickering across panels and struts, looking for something out of place—a panel with a puncture, or a strut with a weak point—some little thing that might kill them if he didn't find it first. Win looked hard and was almost disappointed when he couldn't find anything wrong with Orson's spacecraft.
Orson started them at the tail end of the ship. "This is the antimatter engine," he said, "where the antimatter meets the matter to generate a high energy plasma that is exhausted out the rear to provide thrust."
"Not much to it," remarked Laura. "Looks somewhat like a gigantic butterfly net. You would think that the plasma would leak out of all the holes between the cables in the net."
"It's the part you can't see that makes it work," said Win. "The magnetic fields generated by the electrical currents flowing in the cabled turns the net into a solid wall for the plasma. Let's go down and look at it from the inside." He started his roboproxy down, but it slowed. "Something wrong with this goddamn robot, Orson," Win complained. "It's balking, and red lights are flashing in my peripheral view."
"Safety feature, Commander," said Orson. "Even though the magnetic fields generated by the superconducting polycables in the engine are only set at the minimum level needed to maintain the shape of the engine, they are still much greater than can be tolerated by the superconducting metal shielding around the roboproxy's electronics. If you force the 'proxy any closer, its metal shield will go normal, the magnetic fields from the rocket engine will penetrate its electronics, and the Hall effect will shut its gates down."
"Goddamn it! Why don't they build 'proxies with better shields? I want to go inside!"
"It's got the best superconductor that was available at the time—a metal-oxide multilayered compound that holds off tens of Tesla at room temperature. It's just that the polycable in the rocket engine is better. The compound in the polycable is brand-new, and the entire output of the first production run all went into building our engine. It came from the stars and it's going back to the stars."
"Came from the stars?" asked Laura, puzzled.
"The cables in the net are made from a new flexible metal-organic polymer that is superconducting up to a temperature of almost a thousand degrees, just below the temperature where the polymer itself starts to melt. The compound was found in the nerve tissue of the alien icerugs on the moon Zulu around the planet Gargantua in the Barnard system. The icerug nervous system uses it for transmitting electrical signals in the icerugs acre-sized bodies. The compound is not only superconducting at a very high temperature, it is also a very strong polymer with a high melting point. Without the discovery of this compound by the Barnard system explorers, we would not be able to build this magnetic nozzle, and without this magnetic nozzle, we would not be able to build a high-speed interstellar antimatter rocket. We would have had to send a slow lightsail ship instead, which would delay the rescue of the stranded explorers by decades."
"So the discoverers are going to be the first beneficiaries of their discovery," remarked Laura. "How fitting!"
"Well," said Win, still slightly annoyed at his roboproxy, "if we can't go inside in reality, let's switch to virtual and go in that way."
"Very well, Commander," said Orson, and their views all changed subtly. Instead of the harsh shadows and glaring brightness of real sunlight on real objects, and occasional annoying glints from sunlight reflecting off "anti-reflective" surfaces on real o
ptics, the scene before them was now perfectly illuminated. Orson led the way to the inside of the rocket nozzle, then up the antimatter injector and into the antimatter fuel tank, with its myriad snow-flakes of antihydrogen, while at the same time discussing the technical features of each piece of apparatus as they passed by or through it, until they got to the leading end of the arrow-shaped ship.
The only part of the ship designed for human occupation was at the very tip of the barbed "head" of the arrow, as far away as possible from the flood of gamma rays that were emitted by the matter-antimatter reaction.
"... and here we are," said Orson, as he led them into the virtual control deck, where they could see their bodies lying in the compchairs. Win and Laura could see that Orson was taking off his helmet in the virtual scene, so they followed suit.
"That was a long afternoon sit," said Win, getting out of the chair. "I think I'll go to my quarters and have dinner." He looked at Laura questioningly. "Like to join me for dinner?" he asked. "And perhaps get to know each other better?"
Laura was tired. "Some other time, maybe," she replied, and they all three headed for the doors to their quarters.
The tip of the Succor was slowly spinning to provide artificial gravity to the crew quarters. Each crew member resided in a multistoried "penthouse" that made up the three barbs on the arrowlite head. The positions of the living quarters could be adjusted further or closer to the axis of spin, allowing each person to regulate the "gravity" within their personal living quarters to their liking. Orson, from Mars, could mimic the 38% Martian gravity in his quarters, while Win could live at the standard gravity of his childhood or the 16% of his college years.
Laura had never experienced anything stronger than the gentle Lunar pull, and had set her quarters at the 28% gravity of Eden in order to strengthen herself so she would be able to investigate the new world in comfort.
Laura entered with relief into her three-story stateroom, where she was warmly greeted by her attentive masculine "personal servant". Although she knew consciously that the body of the android was just a copy of the loving and caring android that took care of her in her mansion on Luna, the soft, ready smile and the twinkle in his eye as he tenderly enveloped her in his strong arms and greeted her with a big hug, let her know that the same wonderful "John" was inside.
"What a lovely new place you have found for us, Laura," said John appreciatively. "A little more compact than our place in Imbrium, but that means that I won't have to spend as much time keeping the place clean and will have more time to spend on you."
As he was giving her one last squeeze before releasing her, he noticed a speck of lint on the front of her uniform. As he reached his hand up to her breast and removed the offending speck, the feedback link from her brain through her implant connection reported an unusually strong emotional response to his touch.
She must have been aroused by meeting real men, thought John. I must respond to her romantically this evening and be prepared in case she needs me.
"How about a bath before dinner?" he asked her with a smile. "If you would like, I could follow it with a massage."
"I would like that very much, John," said Laura, pleased once again how thoughtful John was, always anticipating her every mood. Still, after spending the day with two real men, John's solicitousness rang a little false. Sure, it was relaxing to not have to worry about John's feelings after spending the whole day striving to behave as diplomatically as possible with her new crewmates, but was that really what she wanted? To spend so much of her time with a being who merely made her comfortable? Maybe she should have his programming updated, modified slightly so that she would be more challenged, more stimulated. Then John began to rub her back with soft, almost tickling strokes. As he peeled off her uniform, Laura sighed. In his own way, John was stimulating enough.
When Win entered his stateroom, "Doll" was there, looking gorgeous as usual. "Hi, Handsome," she said brightly, her perky little nose wrinkling upwards in greeting as she raised her face for his welcoming peck. Win felt his hackles relax as he realized that he no longer had to deal with uncertain and emotional responses from unpredictable humans and was back again with Doll, who always anticipated his every need. Although the accommodation he would have on Succor was a small three-floor stateroom, instead of commodious Winthrop Mansion on the banks of the Cooper in South Carolina, as long as Doll was here, this was home. As he took off his jacket with the bright new stars on it, he took an envelope and a small box from an inner pocket. The envelope was old-looking and had the embossed imprint of Senator Beauregard Darlington Winthrop III on the upper left corner. The name "George G. Gudunov" was written in fading black ink on the front.
"Put this in my safe, will you?" Win asked, handing it to Doll.
"Certainly, dear," she said, as she commanded a distant minibot to come out of storage. She would have the minibot do the task while she concentrated on taking care of Win. She looked at the letter carefully so she would be better prepared to retrieve it if Win asked for it. "Isn't George Gudunov the commander of the Barnard Star expedition?"
"Yes," said Win, "that letter is for him. It goes with the box, which contains George's brigadier general stars. When my father gave it to me, he said that I should give it to him personally, or, if he's dead, to set it on his grave." Win chuckled. "You know, I was listening the day my greatgrandfather, the senator, first passed this note down and gave it to my grandfather. I was only a kid, but the way I remember it, Gramps didn't say 'set it' he said 'spit'. Odd how the memory can play tricks on you."
The minibot came scuttling into the room, took the letter and box from Doll, and hurried downstairs to the study.
"What would you like for dinner?" asked Doll, pulling Win by the hand toward the large, comfortable sofa before the large living-room window displaying the view over the veranda as seen from Winthrop Mansion in June. A tall mint julep was sitting on the table beside the sofa and Win picked it up as he sat down.
"I can have the cook be starting on it, while you tell me all about the meeting with your crew." Doll sat down on the sofa next to Win and snuggled up under his outstretched arm as he took his first sip of the strong drink. She could smell the strong perfume of the woman Laura on Win's clothing, and through her feedback link, she could sense that he too was smelling it, although subconsciously, and the lingering smell was having a strong emotional effect on him. Win liked to think that all women desired him at first sight.
"Especially that Laura woman!" added Doll, picking her words and emphasis carefully to produce a response from Win that would make him feel better.
Win grinned at her remark and laughed loudly. He was amused and pleased that the android seemed to be jealous of the human.
"Don't you worry, Doll," he said, giving her a hug. "Nobody will ever replace you!"
Orson entered his quarters and shook off his tension from the long afternoon as he shucked off his coat. After some hours in free-fall on the central deck, his reflexes had not yet readjusted to gravity, so the coat dropped onto the floor. He shrugged and kicked it into the corner, then called out cheerfully as he headed to the kitchen.
"Hey, Mom, I'm home! What's for dinner?"
AFTER a few weeks of checkout, it was time to go. Laura made herself comfortable in the compchair in her apartment so that the infrared link had adequate signal-to-noise through her hair. Once fully connected into Mike, she felt herself lift free of her own awkward body as Mike's neurnet spread out before her. She danced over neurons like a butterfly, sensing rather than seeing any loops or glitches in the programs. The commnet of Succor was sparkling and supportive, and she enjoyed the beauty of the implied landscape. An electric blue spark appeared beside her. Laura knew Orson better in this guise, and she moved within the glow of his personality. Their minds merged and Laura tried to match the deeply personal warmth of the connection with the formal reserve of the man she had met personally earlier that week. They had not met personally since. Each preferred the cus
tom compchairs in their own suites to the ones on the free-fall central deck, and with the quality of the virtual links it made little difference where they were physically.
Together Laura and Orson spent the morning taking Mike through the final prelaunch check. But with no glitches to fix, after that there was really nothing left to be done but admire their own work. The actual firing of the antimatter rockets would be done by Goddard Station. They would be accelerating at three gees for a number of months to get up to speed in a hurry, so the human crew would have to be in their suspended animation tanks and under before ignition.
Reluctantly Laura pulled out of the link. She got out of the chair and stretched, her arms and legs stiff from the inactivity. Time spent in the ship's neurnet always seemed short until she logged off.
If a few hours of sitting still can make me stiff, thought Laura to herself, I wonder how I'll feel after fifteen years. John was waiting by the side of her chair to help her out of her clothing and into the narrow bed of the deepsleeper. He stood by as the tiny metal fingers of the med unit inside the deepsleeper painlessly microneedled the improved deepsleep version of the life-extending drug No-Die into the vein at her collarbone, and Laura felt herself slipping into sleep. After a few minutes, John tenderly lowered the lid on the deepsleeper. A moment later foam filled the interior, surrounding her body with a strong soft cocoon. The room grew dark and quiet except for the soft glow from the tell-tale lights of the medical monitor and the simulated breathing noises of the ever-loyal John, waiting patiently beside the coffinlike box for his sleeping beauty to awake.
Rescued From Paradise Page 17
