Exhaustion, however, prevented him from reaching that transcendent plateau. He opened his eyes once more, but the nurse was gone.
Alex lifted an arm to press the call button, but his muscles were far too weak to respond.
Despondently, he remained in the hospital bed the rest of the night, struggling to recapture his thoughts, but finding them as elusive as his long-gone dreams.
∞
Dr. Amma visited Alex early the next morning.
“How are you feeling, Alex?” she said. “You gave us all quite a scare last night.”
She was middle-aged, very thin and short. With her hair pulled back in a tight bun, she took on a vague ferret-like semblance. Of all the people on Canada Station Three, and all the Quantum Resources staff, Dr. Amma was the only one Alex thought truly wanted to help him. Everyone else treated him as a lab rat or an untapped gold mine.
“I’m fine,” Alex said.
“Did you get any sleep?”
“I don’t sleep.” Alex smiled when he said it. Dr. Amma often asked him questions like that, as if trying to trip him up. There was a touch of the psychologist in her, he thought.
“Ah, yes. One can always hope.” Dr. Amma looked down at her holoslate and read from her notes. “Well, it looks like your electrolyte count is back to normal. Vitals are stable.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “It wasn’t a coma and it wasn’t a stroke.”
Dr. Amma leveled her gaze at him. “All the readings indicated you were presenting symptoms of a hemorrhagic event. We couldn’t take a tomography scan because of your pre-existing condition, but it resembled a stroke.”
Although Alex’s electropathic ability had been reduced to a shadow of its former power, there was a minute amount of residual radiation in him, enough to skew the results of any X-ray or electroencephalograph. Lack of proper testing reduced any medical diagnosis to nothing more than an educated guess.
“I was aware through the entire incident,” Alex told her. “Though it was clouded.”
Dr. Amma narrowed her eyes. “And how would you describe the incident?”
Leaning back into his pillow, Alex stared at the ceiling. “I was separated from myself, but at the same time I went deeper into myself than I ever had before.”
“A dissociative fugue?” Dr. Amma guessed.
“No. It was more of a trance. I think … I belong in a different place, or a different state, and my consciousness wanted to go there.”
“Do you know where that is?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “I lost the connection.”
“I hope you won’t be sending the medical teams into a panic again.”
Alex smiled. “No. And I’m sorry if that frightened everyone. It was unintentional.”
Dr. Amma pulled the holoslate to her chest and folded her arms over it.
“Alex, I want to help you. I need to know everything. If you have any idea how to make you better—”
He said, “Get me next to a supply of Kinemet.”
“You know I can’t,” she said. “They stopped mining it, and whatever they have left over they’re hoarding like it was the key to the gate of heaven.”
9
Proposed Holocommercial :
Lunar Lines PR Transcript :
The sun slowly settles over the crescent of Earth’s horizon. As the sun meets the Earth, it’s corona explodes in a flash of light.
ANNOUNCER
From the Earth…
The sun disappears to darkness, and a full moon, bright and silver, rises in its place in the night sky.
ANNOUNCER
…to the Moon
Cut to:
Several passengers lounge on large seats and at a bar in the luxurious interior of a Lunar Lines vessel. They are laughing and smiling.
ANNOUNCER
Why not travel in style?
Cut to:
A female passenger lays her head on a pillow on a contoured bed and pulls a comforter blanket around her.
ANNOUNCER
Lunar Lines – We’ll get you there.
10
Lunar Lines Vessel, Diana :
Earth–CS3 Transit :
Normally, Justine would be circulating around the cabin of the Diana once the space liner reached escape velocity and the passengers were free to roam about.
Like a minor celebrity hired to mingle with customers at a restaurant or political event, Justine’s primary job description was to socialize, tell stories of her days as a pilot, and offer technical explanations for every aspect of their voyage; anything to put the travelers at ease.
Her position as flight guide didn’t give her the rush of actually captaining a ship, but at least she was in space and talking about the things which held her passion.
This particular trip, however, was going to be excruciatingly boring for her.
The cargo bay itself encompassed nearly the entire length of the liner and the lower half of its height. From a fiscal standpoint, Justine knew, most of the company’s profits came from freight rather than fares. Taking on passengers was more for the public relations exposure than anything else.
Since a good deal of the cargo was perishables intended for either Canada Station Three or Luna Station, they kept the heat in the bay at minimum. Justine needed to wear a thick sweater over her PERSuit harness to keep from freezing, and this severely hampered the sensors. Unfortunately, the harness was tailored to fit snugly, and wouldn’t fit on top of a sweater or jacket.
Not having the harness on made her job navigating through the maze of containers something of a nightmare, especially when she had to cart drinks and snacks from the kitchenette one floor above to the soldiers guarding the insulated crate of Kinemet at the back of the cargo hold.
It was ridiculous to think only someone with security clearance was permitted to serve the guards, but she was determined to make the best of it.
The eight uniformed men took their jobs extremely seriously. They were a very tight-lipped crew, and when they were on duty, they held their post in complete silence. At all times, two of them stood guard on either side of the container holding the Kinemet. They had M72 ion pulse rifles at the ready. A third and fourth soldier walked the perimeter of the cargo bay. Every three hours, they would relieve each other in rotating shifts.
When she first arrived in the cargo bay and was introduced to the squad members, they were very formal and would only address her as Major Turner, even after she repeated to them, “Just call me Justine.”
Once they were in space, Justine asked them for their orders, and they stared at her in frozen terror. Here was a retired NASA major fetching drinks for them.
“Guys,” she had said, “if you don’t tell me what you want, it’s going to be a very thirsty trip.”
Having grown accustomed to putting people at ease with her former celebrity, Justine cracked a few jokes and made sure to ask them questions about their family back home in order to get to know them. After a few hours they relaxed around her, though they all remained very respectful and polite.
They would respond to direct questions from Justine, but the only one who went out of his way to engage in conversation with her was the squad leader, Lieutenant John Jeffries. He was quite young—all the soldiers were—and Justine could tell he was trying to set an example for the men under his command. Soon, however, he truly warmed to Justine and there were moments she was certain he forgot her former status as a major.
When the soldiers were off shift they snoozed, read books or watched vids on their holoslates. Lieutenant Jeffries had brought an old-fashioned crib board and challenged Justine to a game when he wasn’t on duty. It killed the time.
Ordinarily, with her optilink sensor, she was unable to discern standard print on paper or cardboard. When the optilink was hooked to the PERSuit harness, however, she could interpret changes in color and translate the two-dimensional images to her mind.
The only problem was, while she played the game, she had
to take off her sweater, so she usually had to stop after a few games before she got too cold.
During Lieutenant Jeffries’ second stint off-duty, they played for about an hour. Justine was up six games to five over the lieutenant, who had won most of their previous matches. She was on a winning streak, and didn’t want to quit, despite the fact that she was shivering.
Lieutenant Jeffries was five points behind the skunk line, and Justine needed six points to win. She kept her pegging cards, since it was his first count.
He played his first card. “Three,” he said. “Try to ‘fifteen’ that.”
Justine laid down a ‘three’ of her own. “Six for two.” She took her points while Lieutenant Jeffries pondered his next play. It was obvious he had kept his small cards as well in an attempt to avoid being skunked. He played what Justine assumed was his highest card: a seven.
“Thirteen,” he said.
She dropped her deuce and smiled. “Fifteen for two. Two to go.”
He hesitated and took a second look at her harness. “You sure that thing doesn’t have X-ray vision or something?”
Justine laughed. “No excuses. Get ready to be humiliated.”
“Okay,” he said. “Here’s my other ‘three’. Eighteen.”
With an exaggerated motion, Justine placed her own ‘three’ down. “Twenty-one for two. And game.”
Clicking his tongue, the lieutenant flipped over his last card. “I had a ‘five’.”
“I had you either way.” Justine showed him her ‘four’.
Throwing down his card in mock outrage, the lieutenant said, “I can’t let you get away with that. One more?”
“I wish I could, but you won’t have much competition against an icicle.” Justine chuckled and slipped her thick sweater over her head, reducing her vision to the regular optilink level. “It’s time for me to make a round anyway. Did you need anything?”
“No thanks,” he said. “Hey, I know this must be the worst assignment you’ve ever had.”
“Not the worst,” Justine said with an equivocal smile.
“Compared to flying to Pluto?” he asked while packing up the crib board. “Working as a hostess must be difficult.”
Rubbing her hands together to get the circulation flowing, Justine gave a half-shrug. “It may not be as exciting,” she said, “but at least at I get to tell tall tales, and they pay me for it.”
She got up and, after polling the other soldiers for their orders, made her way to the elevator and up to the kitchenette.
Besides the flight crew and the hospitality staff, no one else knew Justine was on board. She was recognizable, and if any of the passengers saw her, it might lead to questions NASA and the military didn’t want to answer.
While she was loading a cart with snacks and drinks, one of the stewardesses, Brandi, popped into the cramped room and walked directly toward her. Justine couldn’t see the look on her colleague’s face, but the woman’s voice was a mix of concern and puzzlement.
“There’s a call for you,” Brandi said.
Justine shook her head. “No one knows I’m here. Are you sure it’s for me?”
Brandi nodded.
“Who is it?” Justine asked.
“Don’t know. It’s encoded.”
Thinking it might be Director Mathers checking in with her, Justine nodded to Brandi. “Thanks.”
After securing the food cart in the walk-in cooler, Justine made her way toward the cabin, outside of which there was a tiny communications cubical.
It was a video chat, so there was no need for Justine to take her sweater off. The regular optilink sensor could translate the digital images on the screen as if she had normal vision.
She stepped inside the cubicle, closed the door and turned on the holoslate.
A familiar but unexpected face appeared, and Justine was momentarily taken aback.
“Clive?”
When Alex had returned from Centauri, Justine had wanted to be there on the Moon when Alex got back, and had spent a few hours catching up with him. After Alex was whisked off by NASA officials back to Earth, Justine had remained for a few days for a debriefing with Clive Wexhall, who was still NASA’s liaison on the Moon.
The first evening, he had invited her out for dinner. Justine didn’t know whether it was her euphoria at having Alex back safe and sound, or her own sense of isolation because of her blindness and demotion from flight status, or if it was just too many glasses of wine, but she had ended up spending that night—and every subsequent night during her visit—with Clive.
Once she had returned to Earth, she had chalked it up to nothing more than a brief fling, but Clive wanted to see her again.
Despite his regular calls to her afterwards, she had tried to keep her emotions in check, and keep their relationship on a casual level.
When she had secured her job with Lunar Lines six months ago, Clive had somehow found out and had been waiting for her the first time she docked at Luna Station.
They had spent every moment of the two-day layover together as if they had never been apart. Justine had told herself not to let her feelings get the better of her. She had explained to Clive that she wasn’t ready for anything more serious in her life. He said he was perfectly fine with that.
Whenever Justine was away, they remained friendly and platonic; but whenever she was on Luna Station, she would stay with him at his apartment. They had fallen into a routine, and Justine didn’t want to change their arrangement.
She had not had time to contact Clive before the space liner took off, and normally he wouldn’t call her while she was on duty, so she was surprised that he managed to track her down. No one was supposed to know about her presence on the ship.
“Nice to see you, too,” he replied with a playful smile and a hint of sarcasm.
When Justine didn’t respond right away, Clive pretended to look hurt.
“Sorry,” she said. “Of course, I’m happy to see you. You know that. I just wasn’t expecting you to call me here.”
“You don’t like surprises?” he asked with a smile. “I would have called before you left, but I’ve been up to my neck in paperwork, arranging for the transfer and storage of your, ahem, precious cargo.”
“You know about the shipment?” she asked.
“Who do you think suggested you for the assignment?”
Justine’s eyes flared. “You! You’re responsible for me spending the last ten hours in a freezing cargo bay? And you didn’t give me a heads-up?”
His smile grew wider. “Sorry about that,” he said, not sounding apologetic at all. “But I figured it would be a great opportunity for you.”
“What?” Justine couldn’t believe her ears. “And how is this a great opportunity for me? It’s so secret I didn’t know about it until a few moments before I came on board. And it’s so tedious, I’m about to go crazy from the boredom. And did I mention,” she added, “that I’m freezing my extremities down there?”
Clive laughed. “I have some news that might warm you up.”
She pointed a warning finger at him. “It had better be good.”
“I’ve arranged to escort you—and the shipment—from CS3 to Luna Station.”
“You have?” Justine felt herself flush. Then she blinked. “Where are you calling from?”
“I just arrived on CS3 about a half hour ago. I’ve also made reservations for a private booth at the Terra Vista Restaurant, and I have balcony tickets to La Dance Des Étoiles.”
“I’ve always wanted to see that,” Justine said, her voice softening.
“There’s no sense in spending the eight-hour layover—as you say—freezing our extremities on the liner’s cargo bay. There are plenty of things to do on CS3.”
“Clive, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you were trying to butter me up for something.”
He laughed. “It’s all for purely selfish reasons, I assure you. I just want you to start thinking of me as more than a bi-monthly boyfrie
nd.” Clive’s tone turned serious at that last part.
Justine balked at his declaration. She was comfortable the way things were. There had been far too many changes in her life over the past few years, and she was just starting to get her feet under her and adjust to her circumstances.
She truly looked forward to spending a couple of days every other week with Clive on the moon. With his busy political schedule and her traveling, Justine didn’t know if there was any way they could bring their relationship to the next level. Or that she wanted to.
The thought of anything more than what they had already scared her. Justine’s long-ago marriage to Brian had been a disaster, and it hadn’t been his fault. She had always been a career-minded woman, and had her eyes—and heart—set on the stars.
Even now that she could no longer captain a ship, deep down she held the desire to return to space as something more than a tour guide. She did not want to be bound to Earth or the Moon. It was a ridiculous notion, but she hoped technology would advance to the point where it could either completely restore her sight, or provide her with a less cumbersome prosthetic device than the PERSuit.
“Hey,” Clive said. “I didn’t mean to bring you down.”
“No, not at all.” Justine smiled to show she wasn’t upset. “But while you’re in a generous mood, maybe I can get you to do me a very special favor.”
He raised an eyebrow.
Justine said, “Maybe you can help me with Alex Manez.”
Clive made a gruff sound in his throat. “Not this again. Since Quantum Resources is under full Canadian ownership, I don’t even have clearance to ask if they have any Kinemet, let alone get them to allocate any for—”
Then he suddenly figured out what Justine was getting at.
“No way.” Clive’s face turned red and he dropped his voice. “I seriously hope you’re not suggesting we smuggle any of our Kinemet off that liner.”
Justine shook her head and clicked her tongue. “Clive, you know I would never ask you to do anything like that.”
“Then … what?”
“How about the exact opposite?”
Clive stared at her for more than a few seconds, confused.
Music of the Spheres (The Interstellar Age Book 2) Page 5
