by Unknown
Lauren leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Mr Russo's eyes opened. 'Thank you,' she said. 'You're very kind.'
Mr Russo brushed aside her praise. 'When you return, we will celebrate together. Promise me your first dinner out together will be here?'
'We promise,' Terry said. They shook hands.
'We will slaughter the fatted calf,' Mr Russo said. 'Only the finest for America's hero.'
Lauren played with her rose. 'I will save my appetite. Give my best to your son.'
Terry knew Lauren would want a change of menu. The fatted calf - she never ate red meat.
FIVE
Parking near the cabin, they saw that the light in the front window was still on.
'Think she's up?' Terry asked.
'She's probably reading,' Lauren said. 'She probably hasn't gone to her own room yet.'
'A pity,' Terry said. He reached over and pulled her into his arms. They started to kiss, lightly at first, then hard. Lauren tasted the coffee he had drunk with his meal. She liked coffee. She liked the feel of his hands on her body. Terry had the greatest hands in the world, and not just for lovemaking. It had been one of the things that had drawn her to him in the first place. He had a subtle way of gesturing as he talked that made what he was saying appear ridiculous, even when he was being serious. He did it on purpose, he said. He didn't want to be taken seriously, because, he said, all of life was a joke. Of course, he had probably been joking when he made the remark.
He was the craziest guy Lauren had ever met. Once he had come to a meeting of the entire Nova crew, where they talked at length about what they would do if any number of emergencies struck. Terry had sat there and listened without saying a word until their commander - Colonel William Brent - had asked Terry if he felt they were being overly cautious. Terry had looked at him and said seriously, 'What if you get to Mars and you're there for a couple of days and you start to get bored? What if you get so bored you begin to wonder why you went there in the first place? What are you going to do then?'
Colonel Brent hadn't smiled. Word had it that he had given up on the habit. 'I hardly see how that would make one bit of difference.'
'Real bored people have been known to have their minds play tricks on them,' Terry had warned. 'You could start seeing things that aren't there. It's not as though you can come home anytime you want, you know.'
'Do you honestly feel this is a danger?' Colonel Brent had asked.
'Nah,' Terry had said with a laugh. 'I was just hoping maybe I could get you guys to call the whole thing off.'
He's going to miss me. Boy am I going to miss him.
Lauren's big problem with men, until she met Terry, had been boredom. She'd worried about it. Did she get fed up so quickly with the men she dated because she was an egotistical feminist bitch who thought she was better than everyone who wore a penis full time? Being with Terry had taught her that she simply needed the bizarre to stay excited. She shouldn't have been surprised, he said. Anybody who had dreamed about going to Mars since they were five years old was pretty bizarre themselves. Terry had helped her to understand that she could be special without being alone. She had often felt lonely until she met him. Right from the start, though, she had felt that he had always been a part of her life.
Few women would have said Terry was handsome. His sandy hair was thinning and he needed to gain twenty pounds to reach a normal weight. He also had a habit of
squinting when he was thinking and consequently had more lines around his eyes than a thirty-eight-year-old man who seldom went out in the sun deserved. But he had style, and not just in the way he gestured. He had a cockiness in his laugh and a twinkle in his eye that made her feel she could trust him with her nastiest thoughts and deepest hopes at the same time. He also loved to love her for hours on end. He never got bored with her. It didn't matter what he ate or drank beforehand - he always tasted sweet.
'This is fun,' she said as he kissed her some more.
'It's getting funner,' he agreed.
Lauren shifted her weight and leaned back. Terry fell on top of her. The front seat was terribly cramped, but that was all right. She knew how much he loved to do it in cars, especially rented ones. He once told her that the smell of all the other people who had driven the car, especially the different perfumes of the women, excited him. He had this fantasy that all those people were actually there watching them when they did it, which Lauren thought was pretty kinky.
Terry opened the button on her pants and fiddled with her zipper, which appeared to be stuck. She started to help him, until she remembered her orders.
'Terry?' she said.
'Hmmm?' He was working on the zipper, and having a hard time. She expected him to use his teeth on it next. Lauren took a deep breath. Her orders, what were her orders?
'Terry. The Antabolene.'
'Who?' he muttered, uninterested. Finally, he was successful, and zipped down her fly, slipping his hand over her bare hip. His touch was always gentle, yet firm, too, which she liked. She couldn't remember the last time she
had turned him down, if there had ever been a time. It was a pity it would have to be tonight.
The Antabolene was the drug that would be fed into her system aboard the Nova. It induced a reduced metabolic rate and was the key to hibernation. As a prelude to the Antabolene's intake, the doctors at NASA had forbidden her to take oral contraceptives. Biochemical variables had to be kept to a minimum, they said. They didn't know Terry. She realized if she didn't stop him immediately she might end up getting pregnant and having a baby on Mars. Oh, but she liked how he rubbed her there, right there...
'Terry. Terry, wait a second.'
'Huh?' He glanced up from his four-handed exploration of her body. Lauren took the opportunity to try to pull up her pants, but rolled off the seat and fell on the floor, where she ended up straddling the stick shift. Terry peered at her in the moonlight. 'What are you doing down there?' he asked.
'I was talking about the Antabolene. They told me to throw away this month's pills.'
'And you did what they said?'
'Of course.'
'I read once the odds are no better than a hundred to one. For doing it just once, that is.'
'It depends on the time of the month.'
'I was speaking of averages,' he said.
Lauren crawled onto the seat and playfully shoved him away. 'I've always defied the odds.'
Terry sighed. 'Now I'll never be able to get to sleep.'
'We'll go for a walk and burn off the energy.'
He tugged at her pants. 'That never works. Now a hundred to one, those are pretty good odds.'
Lauren opened the car door and slipped from reach. 'We'll take a long walk,' she said sweetly.
'Damn. Do I get a rain check?'
'In two years I'll give you Master Charge.'
Later they strolled along the shore of the lake, the same shore she had raced over earlier. The night was cool but pleasant. An idyllic breeze rustled the forest. The moon sparkled on the rippling water. They walked slowly, saying little. Lauren derived much contentment from the simple act of holding his hand. Only when they reached the stream did they pause. Lauren took off her shoes and dipped a toe.
'It's cold,' she said.
'The whole lake is,' Terry said.
'I know.' Lauren let go his hand and rolled up her pants to her knees. 'This evening I went swimming way out. It was fun. Hey, Terry, let's cross over to the other side.'
'Don't you remember what happened last time?'
'I promise I won't slip,' she said.
'Sure. I think it's unnatural for a modern man to take off his shoes when he's outside. Go ahead if you want, but I'm staying here.'
Lauren stepped into the icy current, feeling marble-smooth stones beneath her feet. The stream was colder than the lake. Quickly her toes turned numb. She hurried across and climbed onto a boulder. Terry sat on a big rock across from her.
'How was Houston?' she aske
d, squeezing her feet in her hands, trying to warm them.
'Not bad. But I hated to leave here when we have such little time together left. Tom's been kind of bugging me lately. He wants me to write an article about the reporters who cover the astronauts.'
'An article on him?' Lauren asked.
'I think so. What did you do while I was gone?'
'Talked to Jenny. Went for long walks. Waited for you to
come back.' She listened for a moment to the breeze in the trees the lapping of the water on the sand. 'It's so peaceful here,' she whispered.
'Yes. I'm glad they don't launch the shuttle here.'
'Terry? Did you hear what Daniel said? About a girl drowning in the lake last week?'
Terry showed interest. 'No. Who was it?'
'I don't know. Daniel said she was his age. He figured she swam out too far and got cramps.'
'Let that be a warning to you. Was Jenny there when he said this?'
'Yes. Why?'
'I want her to be careful swimming alone when you're gone.'
'She never goes out far,' Lauren said.
'Still. I wonder who the kid was. It could be the Jeffersons' little girl. Christ, I hope it wasn't her.'
'Maybe the girl's family was just passing through,' Lauren said.
'All the same, it's a shame.'
'Yeah,' Lauren agreed. On that note their conversation faltered. She still carried her white rose, and fingered it gently while she looked up at the moon. Suddenly, for no reason, she began to feel small and frail. The moon was bright, but the darkness beyond it - it went on forever. And there she was going.
Where it's always cold. Where there's no fire.
Lauren shook her head. She didn't know why her mind was suddenly infatuated with the thought of fire. She had been thinking about it ever since her nightmare.
Her toes were still cold. She stood and threw her white rose in the stream and watched as the lake swallowed it. 'Let's get out of here,' she said. 'Let's go see how Jenny's doing.'
They found Jennifer unconscious on the couch, her face buried beneath her long blond hair.
'She must have been waiting up for us,' Terry said, closing the door carefully.
'The poor dear,' Lauren said. She crossed to the couch and smoothed Jennifer's hair from her face. Her sister didn't stir. Jennifer's breathing was faint, which Lauren knew from experience to be normal for her. Yet Jennifer frowned as she slept, as if something troubled her in her sleep. Lauren noticed the red book on the floor beside the couch and picked it up. Then she frowned. She strode to where Terry stood.
'Some love story,' Lauren said sarcastically, showing him the title of the book.
'Is that what she told you she was reading?'
'Yes. Why would she lie to me?'
'She probably thought you wouldn't approve,' Terry said.
'I don't.'
'What does it matter? It's only a book.'
'I think it's garbage,' Lauren said. She glanced at her sister, bundled up in one of her own sweaters, and felt a stab of guilt at having left her alone. 'Terry? Would it be OK if I slept on the couch with Jenny?'
Terry grinned. 'You don't believe our walk burned off enough energy?'
Lauren leaned over and kissed him. 'I'm sure it improved our odds. But no, I just feel I should be with her.'
He hugged her. 'That's fine.'
'You don't mind?'
'Of course not. When we get married, we'll have to have a daughter like her.'
Lauren hugged him hard. 'If that's possible.'
'She is one of a kind.' He released her slowly. 'So are you. Thanks, Lauren.'
'For what?'
'The last two years.'
She felt tears coming, and was embarrassed, for she wasn't ordinarily a sentimental person. She turned quickly away lest he see her crying.
'Sweet dreams,' he said at her back, a trace of puzzlement, perhaps sadness, in his voice. 'Catch you early.'
She wiped at her eyes. 'Yeah.'
He was only a few minutes in the bathroom, and then disappeared into the bedroom. Lauren brushed her teeth quickly, and fetched an extra blanket and pillow from the closet. She was on the verge of lying down beside her sister when she noticed again the red-covered book. Jennifer's eyes were closed, but behind them Lauren thought she saw another nightmare forming.
I'll tell her it got lost.
Lauren grabbed the book and tossed it in the fireplace. A bottle of lighter fluid stood nearby, and she squirted a generous amount over the book cover. A touch of her match and the pages went up in flames. She sat patiently until the book was hard to tell from the rest of the ash. Then, finally, she stirred the whole mess with a black metal prod, satisfied. The author's imaginative universe would not be coming back to haunt her sister.
Lauren took the pillow and blanket and settled on the couch. She fell asleep with her arms wrapped around Jennifer.
SIX
Professor James Ranoth sat at his desk on the third story of the isolation complex. Outside his locked window, the Florida sky was turning to black as his last night on Earth began. His room was sparse, furnished mostly with boxes of books that would soon be going into storage, and lit by a small lamp that had bad wiring. It flickered when he touched it. The piece of paper lying on his desk was perfectly blank. He was trying to make out his will.
James Ranoth had seldom thought of dying. Death had always struck him as the least of life's worries. But he was going to Mars tomorrow, and it was best to be prepared. The problem confronting him, at present, and the reason his will was so far blank, was that he had no family. He had been raised an orphan and had never married. He was fifty-two, and had spent the greater part of his life in exotic countries, at archaeology digs, clawing in dirt with his bare hands. He felt no woman deserved the life he had led. Occasionally, however, he regretted his decision to remain single, particularly when he saw children playing in the park, running with their kites flapping in the blue sky. He had always had a special love for innocence. Perhaps that's why he had such an interest in ancient civilizations. Humanity as a whole had been young once.
Still, his life had few regrets, and none were painful. He had enjoyed a great deal of success. He'd published several books and won the Nobel Prize in the recently created category - 'General Science.' People thought he knew what he was talking about. He imagined he had an abundance of money he could leave some deserving soul in the event he did not return from Mars. There were the continuing royalties from his books, NASA's salary he never drew upon and of course the Nobel Prize money, which had been a pretty penny. But he had only a vague idea what it all amounted to. He had little interest in money. His bank paid his bills automatically and sent him a monthly allowance to live on.
Jim knew he shouldn't have left his will to the last moment. In fact, he probably should have set up a living trust. Someone had told him they were better than wills. But if he had little interest in wills, he had none in the law. Plus he had been so busy lately mastering the gadgets aboard Nova that were his responsibility. If only NASA had granted him a couple of days' vacation, as they had Lauren. They had probably worried he would take off to the other side of the world. He loved to travel. He'd walked across the Sahara, frozen on Antarctic beaches, and swum above the Great Barrier Reef. He was thankful he had been given the opportunity to enjoy so much of Earth's beauty. Now, on the eve of his departure, he had but one place he yearned to visit again. That place in the Himalayas, the massive cavern he had been led to, where he had seen the ruins of a civilization that went back God only knew how far.
But could I find it again if I had a thousand days' vacation?
Jim didn't think so. He had already tried several times and failed. Sometimes he imagined that the cavern did not want to be found, or that it didn't even exist; that he had only dreamed he had visited it. Yet he doubted the latter possibility. For he had returned from his subterranean journey with a souvenir.
Jim pulled the ring from his pocket
. He seldom wore it but always kept it near. To the naked eye, it appeared quite ordinary, a plain silver band. Its only unusual feature was its perpetual shine. It fit comfortably on his middle finger, although he seldom wore it. He had a private joke with himself that he was waiting for the right person to give it to. He was the prince with the lost glass slipper searching for Cinderella.
On the surface, the ring was nothing to look at, but it proved extraordinary under closer examination. It was not silver or white gold, or any other metal known to modern man. It was too hard. He had once tried to scratch it with a diamond drill, and had ended up blunting the drill. Harsh acids failed to chemically bond with the metal, and he had tried them all. More impressive, a ruby laser at the University of Houston that had the power to start nuclear fusion had failed to melt it.
Then there was the ring's symmetry. He had scrutinized it under an electron microscope and had the results analyzed by a computer. He found it to be a perfect circle, a circle so perfect that it went beyond the instruments' ability to detect a flaw.
Jim had never allowed other scientists to examine it. He wondered if he was afraid they would discover it wasn't so mysterious, after all. Yet he doubted that that would happen. He was no fool when it came to operating the equipment he had used on the ring. And there was another reason: the thought of someone else touching the ring - besides his Cinderella - filled him with distaste.
No, its phenomenal hardness and symmetry were a fact. As was the place where he had found it, at least three miles under the highest mountain range in the world. Jim knew that the ring had not been fashioned by modern man. Sometimes he thought that it hadn't been made by man at all.
There was a knock at his door. Jim slipped the ring in his shirt pocket. 'Come in, Lauren,' he said.
'You must have X-ray eyes. How did you know it was me?'
Lauren closed the door and walked over and sat on his bed. She wore a blue blouse, and a white skirt that swept an inch below her knees. She looked tan and healthy, not like an astronaut who had been cooped up in isolation for ten days and fed a diet of raw fruit and vegetables. In preparation for their long slumber, they had been put on a cleansing fast. Lauren had lost five pounds. Jim had lost only one. He had stashed away six bags of chocolate chip cookies in his closet. When Lauren had weighed him that morning, she had raised a suspicious eyebrow. He'd only smiled. He thought the doctors were wrong about sugar being unhealthy. It tasted too good.
