Infinity Base

by Diana Peterfreund

  As I suspected, he was in the Knowledge command center, chatting with Dr. Underberg. Well, Howard was chatting; Dr. Underberg was alternately staring at him and drifting off into little catnaps, which didn’t seem to bother Howard at all. Or even stop him from talking.

  He went on like this for a while, giving Dr. Underberg a moment-by-moment rundown of every step we took in Omega City to get onto the rocket, what happened during the liftoff, every stage of the launch . . .

  A lot of it went over my head, to be honest. I was just glad it worked the way it was supposed to.

  Still, I had questions, lots of them. “Dr. Underberg,” I said. “Why did you send Howard that code book?”

  “It’s very important to know what the enemy is thinking.”

  That didn’t make any sense. “It wasn’t the enemy sending those messages, though. It was Dani.”

  His eyes slid in my direction. “And what did Dani’s messages tell you?”

  “What the Shepherds were thinking,” blurted Howard.

  “But—” My mouth clamped closed in frustration. Mom had been right. It was a game. A stupid game whose rules we didn’t figure out until we’d already walked into the Shepherds’ trap.

  If he hadn’t wanted to play these stupid games, would Dad and Nate be safe now?

  Howard and Dr. Underberg went back to discussing the ins and outs of the spacecraft. It seemed as if Howard had been up early reading the manual or something, because he appeared to know every detail by heart. At least someone was having fun on this endless trip to Infinity Base.

  Space was far too big. My nose was feeling more congested by the minute. I thought waking up and moving around would help, but maybe things worked differently in outer space. I tried to imagine a cough or a sneeze in microgravity—the danger of little balls of snot floating all over the inside of the ship.

  I’d better find a tissue.

  There were some in Wisdom’s bathroom, and I blew my nose, but it didn’t do much good. I started to wonder if maybe I wasn’t stuffed up after all. In the little mirror in the bathroom, my face looked fuller than usual, and I couldn’t tell if it was a trick of the reflection, or possibly the result of the microgravity.

  I was getting used to using the bathroom in space. The first few times I’d been scared I wouldn’t position myself correctly over the seat, but now, the narrow opening and the suction almost seemed to work better than the regular toilets back home. At least you didn’t have to worry about anything splashing you. It probably helped that I had a lot of practice camping, and figuring out how to go in the great outdoors. I wasn’t freaked out by the fact that you weren’t really sitting on anything.

  After I washed up with antibacterial wipes and pinned the flyaways on my hair back, I returned to Dr. Underberg’s command center, where Howard was still talking.

  They seemed to be getting along pretty well, too, which made me wonder how Howard might have done if we’d let him go to space with Underberg last year, when he first wanted to. Then I got closer and caught sight of Underberg’s skeletal frame, and remembered why that was a horrible idea.

  This room, like the others, was grimy, surfaces sticky and covered with crumbs from meals he’d probably consumed months ago. It wasn’t right that a man who had done so much for the world was stuck first under it and now above it, watching from afar.

  Howard and Dr. Underberg were discussing the detailed points of some kind of complicated orbital maneuver that Dr. Underberg used to move the spaceships closer or farther away from each other without wasting precious fuel. It seemed he had very little left in Knowledge, and that most of the ship’s life-support systems were running on solar power.

  “Is it enough to land with?” Howard asked.

  “Probably not,” said Dr. Underberg. “But I don’t believe I’ll be returning to Earth.”

  My mouth opened with a squeak and they both turned to look at me.

  “But Dr. Underberg,” I said. “You have to go home eventually. Your daughter’s there. Don’t you want to meet her?”

  Dr. Underberg lifted one delicate arm. “I don’t think I’d last too long down there. And that’s not even counting the fact that the Shepherds want me dead.”

  He said it so matter-of-factly, but I was horrified. I opened my mouth to argue, but he turned back to Howard.

  “So what were the altitude parameters for the second-stage rockets? I fear they messed with my settings.”

  Okay. I knew when I’d been dismissed. Besides, who wanted to talk about dying in space? Not me. I went in search of food. This time, I was going to make sure he ate something from Wisdom. For all I knew, he’d been living on packets of Omega City astronaut ice cream all this time.

  AS THE HOURS passed, we all became more adept at moving through zero g. Eric’s twisted ankle healed nicely since he was able to stay off it to move around. I got dizzy a few times, and Savannah threw up once, but other than that, we were all tolerating space pretty well. For the time being. Every time I caught sight of Dr. Underberg’s withered limbs, I thought about the toll this life took. If this was what the part we could see looked like, what was happening with his internal organs?

  At long last, he called us back into the command module. “We’ve arrived in the orbit of Infinity Base. Soon we’ll be able to complete docking. Would you like to see it?”

  I nodded furiously, and he switched on the overhead screen.

  “Behold.”

  My brow furrowed as I took in the sight before me. I don’t know what I was expecting from Infinity Base. The Death Star, maybe, or at least the Starship Enterprise. But the space station looked more like a wacky metallic flower. Several thick, bulbous cylinders formed the segmented stem. Each segment sprouted a pair of giant solar arrays, spreading from the center like massive, mirrored leaves. Other protrusions, like thorns on a rose, stuck out here and there from the stem. And then there was the “blossom” itself, a series of massive rings radiating out from one end of the station, each larger and wider than the last, forming a sort of cone. As I watched, I could see that the rings were slowly turning. In the center of the stacked ring cone were more structures, spherical dishes and more solar arrays, like the stamen of a flower.

  “The entire base is modular,” Dr. Underberg explained. “They are constantly adding new parts, making it bigger.”

  Into infinity.

  “That fourth ring is new.” He pointed at the widest part of the blossom. “It’s bigger than a football field. They’re almost to half g.”

  “Half g?” I asked, confused.

  “One g is the same gravity as Earth,” said Howard.

  “You’re saying they have artificial gravity in there?”

  “No,” said Dr. Underberg. “It’s centrifugal force. The rings rotate at a rate sufficient to create centrifugal force. It’s like riding on a Tilt-A-Whirl or a merry-go-round—as the machine spins, you are pressed to the outside.”

  That made sense. “But how does that make gravity?”

  “It creates the illusion of gravity. In the case of these rings, the floor is built toward the outside, with the inside of the ring as the ceiling of your design. You would essentially walk around on the outside without knowing it. The faster the rings spin, or the larger the radius, the stronger the centrifugal force. With careful design, you can simulate the effect of gravity within an extraterrestrial structure.” He gave me a dirty look. “I had thought you’d read my research. This is all based on one of my designs.”

  Howard piped up. “Dani showed us your designs, as well as the updates the Shepherds made.”

  Dr. Underberg grunted.

  “So each of these rings has a larger gravitational—I mean, centrifugal force than the one before?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  Savannah tilted her head, watching the rings move. “Why don’t they just move them faster?”

  “Probably takes a lot of energy,” Howard said.

  “Oh, the problem is simpler than that,” sa
id Dr. Underberg. “If you spin too fast, the residents will get dizzy, for the same reasons you get dizzy on an amusement park ride.”

  Savannah appeared unconvinced. “But how do you make the force strong enough to be used like gravity but not strong enough to make you dizzy?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t understand any of this. “If spinning around makes everything fly to the outside, how come we felt gravity pulling us to the center of the Earth?”

  “That’s real gravity,” Dr. Underberg said. “Like I said, centrifugal force is just . . . faking gravity.”

  “How does real gravity work?”

  “Ah,” said Underberg. “That’s a mystery that better minds than mine have tried to unravel.” He turned back to the image on-screen. “But what is important is fooling our brains and body into thinking that there is gravity. We’ve evolved to expect it. Without gravity, our sinuses clog up, our muscles deteriorate; all kinds of unfortunate things happen to our bodies.”

  That explained my stuffy nose.

  “So if we want to live healthily for long lengths of time in space, in these bodies, and not end up like me, then we need to figure out a way to create a gravity-like force. And this is as close as any human has managed to get. So far. The ideal structure is probably over a thousand meters in diameter, spinning at a rate of once per minute to give you a nice, Earthlike feeling. But we’re a long way from that.”

  I stared at Infinity Base. Were we? It was already closer to reality than almost any person on Earth knew. I looked at Dr. Underberg quizzically. He sounded almost . . . impressed by the Shepherds’ accomplishments. But weren’t they his enemy?

  “We will be docking in a few moments. I’ve timed our approach during their sleep cycle, which should give us the best chance to sneak up on them. Their computer systems have been altered to conceal any records or notifications of my arrivals, and all indications show these hacks are still in place. With any luck, they will not be alerted to our presence by their systems.”

  Yeah, I could imagine an unauthorized spaceship docking at your station might set off alarms.

  “However, if anyone in there is awake and looking out a window, there’s nothing I can do about that.”

  I bit my lip. So until we sneaked in, we had no way of knowing who was there, or how prepared they were to greet us.

  And that was before you thought about the fact that we were doing exactly what the Shepherds had wanted us to do. Dad and Nate were bait, and we were bringing Dr. Underberg to the station to rescue them.

  Dr. Underberg tapped the control panel and brought up a diagram of the station. “I know from experience that animals brought up in stasis are kept in this module.” He pointed at one of the areas in the lower stem. “That’s your best bet for finding your father and Nate Noland.”

  “Wait, they’re still asleep?” Savannah asked.

  “I can’t imagine why they’d wake them up,” said Dr. Underberg. “You don’t usually give hostages a tour of your space station.”

  She shook her head. “How are we supposed to get them off the station?”

  “They’ll be weightless,” Howard said. “We’ll push.”

  She looked appalled. “But they won’t be naked, right? Gillian’s mom was naked.”

  “I’ve seen Nate naked,” said Howard. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Eww, shut up,” Savannah said.

  I puffed out my breath in frustration. If they were naked, they were naked. I wasn’t wasting time risking the chance to save their lives to find them clothes before I sneaked them off the station. “We can take blankets or something and wrap them up like mummies.”

  “That’s a great idea,” said Howard. “It’ll keep their limbs from flailing around, too. We can even use the sleep sacks.”

  I smiled at him, grateful that someone was thinking this through. Astronauts practiced every maneuver they’d ever have to perform on flight simulators for months in advance. Mission control prepared for every possibility. We were just going by feel, and it showed.

  I suddenly had a terrible thought. “What if they do catch us? You can’t protect yourself in here, can you?”

  “Don’t worry,” said Dr. Underberg. “If there is one thing I am good at, it’s heeding my survival instincts. Now, go down to the hatch on the third level. It will unlock when I’ve successfully docked at Infinity Base. I’ll lock the door behind you when you head through the entrance, and unlock it when you return with your missing friends.”

  “How will you know when that is?”

  “I’ve got a camera that can see whatever comes through that air lock,” he said, his tone frank. “I’ll know whether or not it’s safe to open the door. Now, move along. Remember: timing is everything.”

  We were dismissed. We headed down as instructed, and Howard rolled up two sleeping sacks and stuck them in the pockets of his utility suit. While we waited near the hatch, Eric floated up to me.

  “You know what he means by heeding his survival instincts, right, Gills?” he asked, his tone concerned.

  I looked at my brother.

  “He means if things go wrong, he’s definitely going to detach and leave us there.”

  I bit my lip.

  “You know, or croak in the next five minutes. The only thing really keeping us safe is that the Shepherds want to use us as leverage for Dr. Underberg. No Dr. Underberg, no reason to keep us around at all.”

  I shuddered.

  “I can still hear you, by the way.” Dr. Underberg’s voice floated through the cabin.

  I glared at my brother. Great. And Eric just said “croak.”

  “But you’re not wrong,” the old man added. “I shall endeavor, then, to stay alive. For all of your sakes. Docking procedure complete.”

  The lights around the hatch turned green. Just beyond this door was the air lock to Infinity Base. And Dad. I’d almost made it.

  Howard opened the hatch and we floated through.

  I could immediately tell the difference. The air here was cleaner, fresher, like a mountain forest. The short, accordion-like tunnel we traveled through was sparkling clean. At the other end was a second hatch, through which shone a bright light that looked almost like daylight. And beyond that, the mission. I looked over my shoulder at the others, who nodded silently, waiting. We’d have to be quick. We’d have to be sneaky. It was probably impossible.

  But it was our only chance.

  I took a deep breath and reached for the lever to open the hatch.

  It flew open, and Nate’s face appeared in the portal. “Hi there!” he called, grinning. “Welcome to Infinity Base!”

  15

  GREETINGS, EARTHLINGS

  FOR A LONG MOMENT, WE JUST STARED AT HIM. NATE NOLAND WAS SUPPOSED to be unconscious, and possibly naked, and desperately glad that we’d come to rescue him. Instead, he looked like we’d dropped by with pizza. Good pizza, too, not the kind from General Tso’s.

  He was dressed in a soft, loose-fitting pair of dark pants, a V-neck sweater with an infinity sign embroidered above his heart, and a pair of soft slippers with little turned-up toes like elf shoes.

  “Guys?” Nate said. “In or out? I can’t keep the door open or outer space will get in. Probably.”

  “Nate!” Howard shoved me aside and pushed to the front, but he didn’t seem to know what to do when he got there. His brother clapped him on the shoulder and he found his tongue. “You’re okay!”

  Was he? I stared, confused. He seemed . . . happy. Which was an odd way to be if you were kidnapped, drugged, put into hypothermic torpor, and shot into space.

  “I’m awesome, Howard. And you’re right. This space thing is a blast. I can see why you wanted to come up here so badly. Seriously, though, in or out, I’m recommending in, because it’s so cool in here, you have no idea.”

  We all came through the portal, and entered a smallish chamber that looked a lot like the one we had just left, except far sleeker. Everything shone and glistened, and the mountain-fre
sh scent grew stronger. The lights here were bright as a sunny day and as my eyes adjusted to the room, I even saw green plants tucked into nooks and crannies.

  I watched Nate warily. “Are you sure you’re all right, Nate?”

  Nate just grinned harder. “Of course I am. I mean, I wasn’t. I was super scared when I woke up on a space station, but I’m trying to look on the bright side.”

  “The bright side?” Eric asked.

  “I have something really great to write in my college entrance essays, right?” The smile was hopeful. Almost pleading.

  Definitely scary.

  “But . . . we came here to rescue you,” Savannah said, baffled.

  “Aww, Savvy. That’s sweet. But really, I’m just glad you’re here. We knew you were coming, you see.”

  “Who is we?” I pounced. “My dad?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “And Anton. You met Anton at dinner, he said, gee . . . how many days ago was it now?” He shrugged, which sent him floating across the room. “Anyway, he’s great. Want to see him?”

  No. And Anton was not great. I stayed put, hand firmly on one of the glossy handholds. “Anton is a Shepherd. And, you know, he kidnapped you. You were kidnapped.”

  And we were caught. We were caught before we even set foot on the station. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go!

  “No, I wasn’t,” Nate said.

  “You were,” said Savannah. “Gillian’s mom said you had to fight them off.”

  Nate’s smile faltered for a minute.

  “In the car?” Savannah said. “Do you remember getting attacked in the car?”

  Nate paused, and glanced over at the door he was herding us toward. “Wait until you see all the cool stuff on this space station, guys. I really think you’ll like it. I certainly did.”

  “Like what?” Howard piped up, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Oh,” said Nate half-heartedly. “You know. Plants, and animals . . . it’s really cool.”

  No. Nothing here was cool. Something was very wrong. Nate wasn’t acting like himself at all. Did he even remember getting attacked?