In the cockpit, gauges and valves indicated appropriately and the lights and flaps worked. After that, she started the engine. It coughed. It smoked. It ran rough. All normal. As the engine warmed up and settled into its usual steady rumble, the knot in her stomach relaxed.
After a wave to the two men she taxied over to the lawn, all the while addressing a few last-minute tests of instruments and gauges. As daylight barely showed itself she took off with a minimum of audience.
In the air, Alexa became a little misty eyed, almost sensing her grandfather beside her. Instead of proceeding directly to the port, however, she swung by their entry point to the planet. The spot was obvious, a small cove deep enough to accept dolphins. On opposite sides of the inlet towered two columns topped by minaret fretwork that could easily enclose the crystals Callaghan said were there. The columns, of the same white stone as the temple, stood tall and proud. Not knocked down by crashing airplanes.
No clouds appeared. The wind remained calm. No one could even body surf on the waves. No chance of trying her luck in going to Earth.
Alexa banked away to fly toward the mountains, aiming for the lowest one on the eastern edge. As she approached the spaceport a huge craft landed without stirring a bit of dust. It appeared capable of holding four planes the size of hers, and had to be Pearson’s ship since it was the one thing other than her moving in the bare dawn.
After loading the Red Arrow through a side hatchway, she wandered to the traveling compartment. It was similar to airport waiting rooms for high-end travelers, including an efficient office area, and a kitchen and head facilities. Down the hall, sleeping quarters were also available, said the one bot-attendant.
During the trip to the space station Alexa allowed herself some playtime, hoping the bot wouldn’t tell stories. She vaulted back and forth across the room in the free-fall with a silent chuckle on her face, and allowed her hair to float out around her head as far as possible. Afterward, she buckled herself into a chair to meditate.
At the space station, they were delayed by the arrival of what had to be the biggest cruise liner. Well, certainly longer and bigger than had been around on her first trip to the station. Windows traced along the liner’s four ridges and a view bubble jutted out midway on one side. The mercury vapor engines appeared to be at one end. Their own vessel moved close enough for connection with the space station via a tube.
Pearson met her at the dock. “Do you have a schedule? We can go directly to the office, or take a tour of the station, or have lunch. Your choice.”
In the corridor a few people walked both directions. “A shuttle is scheduled several hours from now,” said Alexa. “Why don’t we complete the transaction and see how it goes.”
The law office of Tuttle, Delio and Kwan suggested by Bridgeth turned out to be a five-minute walk. After introductions Alexa handed the documents to the human clerk, who didn’t even raise an eyebrow about their ancient dates.
When the clerk went to another room to finalize everything, she asked Pearson, “Do you fly the various crafts in your collection often?”
“As often as I go to Earth,” he replied.
“How long does it take to travel there?” Perhaps this was standard knowledge she should know, but she really wanted to find out.
“Straight, no stops, less than a week. It usually takes longer, however, because most ships will visit stations along the way.”
The clerk returned. In minutes, electronic papers were signed, hands shook, money deposited into a bank account, deal done. Upon the breaking of that bond, one of the last with her family, Alexa sat back in her seat. A tiny tremble of her lips might have betrayed her, if she hadn’t distracted everyone with busyness. She stood up and headed for the door. Movement would be good.
Outside the office, Pearson asked, “May I take you to lunch at a real restaurant, not the kitchen court? They have quite good food for such a small station.”
“Sure, love to,” said Alexa. She’d seen very little of the station her last trip, and on the way she inquired about a sign pointing to a View Dome.
Pearson said, “The scene is of Adalans and even the other planet in the system since it’s relatively close now. Would you prefer to stop there first?”
When she nodded yes, he began guiding her with his hand lightly touching midway on her back, as Mac would. Alexa caught her breath. Mac, wait for me. I just took the first step back to you.
Right before they entered the View Dome, a man and woman dressed in formal pajamas exited and barely stepped to the side before walking briskly down the hallway in the direction of the cruise ship.
Upon entering the room, the view of Adalans from 300 miles above the surface could make a jaw drop. The planet appeared as those photos of the big blue Earth, though maybe not quite as pretty. A small group at the other end of the room was lively with laughter. When she and Pearson strolled nearby, a matron left the group and bore down upon them.
“Hello! We are so glad to see you!” the woman trilled. “Would you be willing to stand with us as we witness the marriage between these two sweet souls? Tradition is that good luck for a marriage depends on at least seven people attending, and moments ago we lost two friends to a summons about their toddler. All we need is for you to be with us. Oh, you won’t decline, surely.” Alexa and Pearson never had a chance versus such formidable determination. “Thank you very much,” said the matron. “Right this way.”
The young couple looked sweet, dressed in their best. The man wore a bright red silky shirt with white trousers and the young woman shimmered in a simple shift of the same red material. They stood in front of a woman in flowing white robes, who held a large brown book opened roughly to the middle. Adalans, huge and shining, beamed on everyone.
The ceremony was in a language totally unknown to Alexa, though soon the rhythm of two people joining in matrimony became recognizable. Patterns for the ritual appeared similar, crossing boundaries, spanning time. As the girl spoke her vow, Alexa sighed.
Then an icy stillness struck her heart.
That should be me.
Solely by an iron will power did Alexa not moan out loud. This day, almost this same hour, I should be with Mac on the beach in front of the minister, saying my marriage vows.
All sound withdrew to a distance. Her vision narrowed to a point in front of her. Yet she saw herself standing in the View Dome, with no emotion showing. She watched herself close her eyes and soon felt Pearson take her hand, draw it through his hooked arm, and stroll away. Somehow she knew the couple behind them kissed and whirled in a circle, their friends celebrating around them.
Alexa realized she was walking through hallways, though she could not remember how she arrived at the door in front of her. Pearson opened it, turned on the light, led her in, sat her on a desk chair, and closed the door. As he stepped into an adjoining room, Alexa’s lower lip trembled. His entrance released a single tear, which tracked inexorably toward her mouth since all Alexa could manage was staring at the floor with her head bent to the side. When Pearson lowered his tall frame onto his haunches to offer a glass of water, Alexa’s heart clenched. A groan clawed up through her throat. It felt and sounded as a wounded animal.
How long did she stand there, with his arms around her? How did she come to stand, with his arms around her? She did not know. It did not matter. These arms, how could they feel similar to Mac’s? Mac could not be here, since he must have been dead for perhaps 900 years.
Another moan escaped and Alexa’s face crumpled. Her head began to move back and forth, then her body. No tears flowed, even with this. But my heart is fracturing into a thousand pieces.
A good deal later the maelstrom abated, leaving Alexa empty. She simply stood, not moving. At length, she took a deep breath and looked up to the man to thank him for his kindness.
At which point, she dropped into one of those intense, small whirlpools of intimacy. A moment beyond time and space.
He bent toward her. She leaned into
him, and his lips as they touched hers.
“Oh, no,” she gasped. What kind of person am I? Newcastle? Pearson? And I’m supposed to be desolate about losing Mac?
She wrenched away, “I’m sorry.” Searching right and left, she babbled, “thank you. But, I’m sorry. Too much. Thank you. I’m sorry.” Must leave. “You see, there is someone.”
When she glimpsed him, he appeared devastated. “I know. How could I do that?”
“You know?”
“Well.” The cogs and wheels in his mind were apparent. “It’s logical.”
She managed a nod, amidst the funk inside.
“How can I help you?”
“I should leave,” said Alexa. “Lunch cannot happen.”
“Of course.” He moved to open the door. “Let me take you to the shuttle.”
“I can find it.” She was desperate to be alone, to be away with the other quiet little desperation inside her to move into his arms.
“That might be unwise. It is not far, though there are a few turns. I can take you there most quickly.” He gestured down the hall to the left.
She’d thought it might be to the right. “Okay, thank you. Please lead on.” Along the way, she scrupulously stayed out of his reach of her. Or her reach of him, she wasn’t certain.
In front of the shuttle waiting room, Alexa turned and stuck out her hand. Pearson looked at it, at her, and enveloped her one hand with his two. “If you can, please let me help you.”
“If we meet again. Perhaps, then.” She shook their three hands up and down. “Thank you. Take care of the Red Arrow.” Amazed she could look him straight in the eye, Alexa turned and left him behind.
In the waiting area she dropped into a chair and stared across the room, willing herself to equilibrium. At some point a neon sign glowing electric blue came into focus in front of her: Fortune Cruise Lines. Didn’t the matron in the View Dome mention that name? By the time Alexa reached the information desk, she’d decided on the best path of action.
The woman greeted her in some language.
“Hello,” responded Alexa. “Do you speak standard English?”
“Yes, how may I help you?” the woman replied, reflecting Alexa’s American speech pattern. Up close, Alexa noticed the “woman” was also the desk, and a peach-colored mask covered the machine.
“I’d like to purchase three tickets to Earth.”
The woman? robot? wobot? sported a voluptuous physique dressed in a tight-fitting bodice in the same electric blue as the sign. Denea, according to her name tag, went quiet for a moment. Then she asked, “When would you prefer to depart?”
“When does the ship that arrived this morning leave?”
“The Jasmine is one of our more exclusive cruise vessels,” replied Denea. “Do you have a price range in mind for this journey?”
“What is the cost to Earth for a double room and a single on the Jasmine?” Denea’s face went blank for a moment. The answer equaled almost half Alexa’s money. But they weren’t aiming for the long-term, just traveling to Earth as soon as possible. “Okay, please book those two rooms.”
“Your passport data?”
Alexa whimpered, “Uh.”
Chapter 18
Galactic ambassadors can arrange almost anything, judging by how quickly Bridgeth organized Adalans passports for the three. By mid-morning the next day, they were on the space station dock, at the cruiser’s shuttle, all legal.
Rachel continued feeling weak so she located a quiet spot over to the side while Alexa and Donny maneuvered through Customs. At the dock, the liner’s tugboatlets—piled high with packages, foodstuffs and metal cylinders—took turns with humans for shuttles leaving the docking space.
Murdoch Callaghan and Bridgeth said their goodbyes at the spaceport on the planet. Jesek came up to help and then was called away for some administrative detail for Bridgeth. Even without his help though, boarding the cruise was turning out to be rather uneventful. Considering each of the previous visits to the station left her all but quivering, Alexa allowed herself a satisfied smile. Perhaps I can get the hang of life in this century, after all.
A few moments later she glanced over at Rachel, and noticed that journalist, the one with a name of a country in Africa, badgering her. Immediately, Murdoch’s food package in Alexa’s hands got pushed at Donny.
Rachel looked up as she approached. “Alexa,” she said happily, “Zaire says the two of you are good friends.”
“Sure, best buddies.”
Zaire smiled at Alexa. “I was explaining to Rachel what to expect in deep space, how it’s—”
“She knows all about that,” broke in Alexa, “because she is as knowledgeable as anybody else these days. Therefore there’s nothing here for you. You can leave.” Rachel’s head came up, confused.
Zaire gazed at Alexa, unperturbed. “Rachel says you all are on your way to locate someone to transport you back to your time. A concept I’d love to find out more about.”
“Rachel.” Alexa stopped. After taking a deep breath, she continued, “What we are doing is none of your concern, nor your readers.” She turned to her friend. “Did Zaire disclose to you that he’s a journalist and wants to do a story?”
Rachel began to understand. “Ah, no. He didn’t mention that detail.”
Zaire put on what had to be his most charming demeanor. “Others have heard. Other journalists. As soon as you are away from Adalans, you will be out of this planet’s protection. Did you know Adalans barred the media from the event downside? It’s the reason five or six reporters have not been at your door already.” He leaned toward Alexa. “Give me an exclusive. I will tell your story the best.”
Alexa declined to comment. Instead she held out her hand for Rachel, who glanced at the man briefly through her eyelashes before leaving. Behind them, Zaire called out, “See you later.”
Alexa kept marching. Not if I can help it.
On board an hour later, Rachel breezed in from her room across the hall. “Have you checked out the facilities in your bathroom? I can figure out what most of those knobs are for, but a couple of them are a complete mystery to me.”
Alexa arranged her stuffed animals from fluffiest to smoothest, while marveling a little at the luxury of it all. It was a bit of a shock when they boarded to find she and Rachel were not sharing accommodations.
“Yes. Welcome, Miss Alden,” the maître d’ bot had said when they stepped from the shuttle into the cruiser. “This morning, a gentleman upgraded all three of your party to individual rooms and each to the best available.” When Alexa asked the gentleman’s identity she received a missive, on the cruise line’s real-paper stationary. To read it, she moved aside from the entryway since four people waited behind them to pass through. Donny busied himself with corralling their luggage and Rachel reminded him the cart-bots would take care of it.
While the ship’s outside was utilitarian, the inside turned out to be beyond opulent, as if decorated by a personal shopper for a newly rich dot-com youngster, with gadgets encased in velvet, to boot. Under a starburst crystal chandelier, Alexa leaned against space blue walls.
The note was short and polite. “Dear Alexa, Please allow me to make your voyage as comfortable as possible. The cost is not a burden. And it is my great pleasure to be at your service at any time. Very Sincerely, Pearson”
It took awhile to arrive at their rooms. They walked up and down hallways behind a trundling cart-bot. Everything was carpeted or covered in a soft material, except for metallic strips along the ceiling and on the floor. Alexa could almost swear she saw certain light fixtures and wallpaper and office doors more than once. Can robots get lost? Short connecting hallways were often bent, as if going over a hill or from one ridge of the ship to another, with their feet always pointing to the ship’s core running lengthwise.
Their corridor was more than a hundred feet long with doors on both sides evenly spaced about twelve feet apart. Their rooms, or cabins as the cart-bot said, were near
each other. Two faced each other, with the third down the hall. Donny granted to the girls the two doors across from each other, and opted for the relative privacy of a room a few doors further along.
Floor space in the room was about eight by five feet. Still, fine-grain wood on the fronts of drawers and closets recessed in the walls was odd in a place that would never have a connection with trees. From the years working for her cousin, Alexa recognized a French polish finish on the wood that required many applications. Probably now done by robots.
Multi-hued brocade material covered the bed tucked into an alcove, a box with one side open. Alexa pondered the arrangement. Cushioning covered almost all surfaces inside the box and pockets were available to hold small items. A metal plate about one foot-square, finely engraved with peony flowers, showed on the wall above the pillows. Underneath that she found a control panel with four knobs including an icon appearing to be for oxygen. The compartment even had a window—small, with multiple thicknesses of a glass substance that didn’t totally insulate against the freezing vacuum outside. Didn’t matter, she wouldn’t quibble with a view of planets and stars.
“I wonder if the bed is a safe place,” Alexa said. “In case something happens?”
Rachel said, “Yeah. Did you play the safety video?” She leaned into the alcove and ran her hand over the coverlet. “Your brocade is a different color. Mine is burgundy.”
“What safety video?”
Rachel extended her arm to turn on the screen recessed in the wall between the door and bed. Then she pointed at a contraption in a custom space between the closet and the bathroom door and muttered, “You have one of those funky little robots, too.”
Hunched there was a three-foot tall collection of tubes, the tallest being topped by a half-sphere that looked as if it could be looking at you. On top of one of the shorter tubes and on the bottom of another were contraptions that allowed the bot to grab and manipulate items. The fourth tube appeared flexible.
Seeking Sirius Page 10
