Red Thunder

by John Varley

  “A what?”

  “Something to knock him out for a while.”

  “Oh, sure. No problem.”

  “Okay. Caleb can watch him. He won’t need a gun, Betty, Caleb could take that pathetic loser apart with his bare hands. Give him all the booze he can drink, pop some pills in it. Dump him in an alley someplace, later. What’s he gonna do? It’ll be his word against all of us.”

  “That’s what we’ll do, Travis,” she said. “He really burned me up. No way I was going to let the likes of him stop y’all.”

  “Mom!” I said.

  “You know I’d be happier if you didn’t go, Manny. But not this way.”

  I gave her a big hug.

  AND SO WE returned to the warehouse, with one more night and a day to spend inside. 2Loose had erected scaffolds around the ship and hung tarps around it.

  We climbed the ramp and sealed the outer air-lock door, cycled the lock, entered the ship interior. The Monopoly game was as we’d left it. [290] Other than our cans of Coke having grown warm, it was as if we’d never been gone.

  TRAVIS DIDN’T THROW us any more emergencies.

  “I feel dirty,” he told us over the phone. “It’s so easy to humiliate a man, especially when he’s down. So easy. I’m not proud of it.”

  “That’s something,” Dak said. “You don’t take pleasure in it.”

  “But I did, when it was happening.”

  “So did I,” Kelly said. “Anyway, it had to be done.”

  “Jubal wants to know if he can stay with y’all for a while,” Travis said.

  “What, he has to ask?” Alicia said. “Send him in.”

  So Jubal joined the Monopoly game for an hour. He seemed unusually quiet, sweating a lot, very nervous. I hoped it was just opening night jitters, anticipation. I know I was feeling it. He couldn’t be worried about the trip. Could he?

  We slept, we woke up, and we sweated out the last hours until six P.M., when we swung the door open and came down the ramp. Mom was there, and Jubal, and Grace, and Salty, and Maria, and Sam. There was a big flat cake with a little model of the ship standing on it, and the logo of Red Thunder spelled out in red icing. Maria, who had baked it, cut it and we all had a piece.

  “Where’d you get the model?” I asked.

  “Oh, we got ten thousand of ’em,” Mom said. “Didn’t Kelly tell you? We’re going to merchandise the hell out of this trip.” I looked at Kelly.

  “Well, I’ve got to have something to keep me busy while y’all are gone, okay?”

  “Fine with me, Kelly,” I said.

  Then 2Loose gave us a tour of his masterwork. All the scaffolding and canvas had come down while we slept, and his masterpiece rose high in the air before us.

  He had rendered the Six Days of Creation, from Genesis.

  The first tank depicted the dividing of the light from the darkness, and I had almost been prophetic. God wasn’t in a low-rider, he was [291] doing a wheelie on a big Harley, and the Light was coming out of one tailpipe and the Darkness from the other. Shapes loomed in the big white and black clouds.

  Tank two, the creation of the Firmament, which means Heaven, I think. How would a Cuban/French-Canadian maniac render Heaven? With lots of gold and lots of blue, and angels partying to boom boxes on Miami Beach.

  On the third day God separated the waters from the dry land. Raging seas, towering mountains. “Let the Earth bring forth grass, and herb yielding seed after his kind, and the tree yielding fruit after his kind…” He showed all that, and in the foreground was a brightly colored jungle.

  Tank four, the creation of the sun, the moon, and the stars. That may have been the most gorgeous panel of the six, stars whirling and exploding, the sun high above all.

  Fifth day, creation of animals. Great whales, winged fowl, plus a lot of animals Noah must have forgotten to bring along on the ark.

  And on the sixth day… created He the crew of the Red Thunder. That’s right, the six of us-2Loose not knowing Kelly wasn’t going, not knowing, in fact, that any of us were going, but one look at the last picture and you knew some vibe from our crazy little ship had touched his artist’s heart and told him the truth.

  We were standing together, smiling, wearing our brown leather bomber jackets. Travis in the back, a hand on Kelly’s and Alicia’s shoulders, Jubal in a place of honor down in front of us.

  “My goodness,” Alicia said. “This is really… something.”

  “Do y’all like it?” 2Loose asked anxiously.

  “You done good, amigo,” Travis said, slapping him on the back.

  “We got our money’s worth,” Kelly said.

  “What, you paid for this?” Travis asked.

  “Shut up, Travis. It was my money, okay?”

  Then it came time for somebody to smash a bottle of champagne over her… well, she’d have to sit in a cherry-picker to hit Red Thunder’s bow, so we settled for one of the landing struts.

  Travis handed the bottle to Kelly, who looked surprised. But she took it.

  [292] “I christen thee, Red Thunder,” she said, and choked up. She cleared her throat. “Bless all who sail in her.” She swung the bottle, hard, and we all applauded.

  “And I think that’ll be my exit line, my friends,” she said. “I won’t be at the launch in the morning. I don’t think I could stand it.”

  My throat was burning as I tried to hold back the tears. No one had anything to say, but Mom put her arms around Kelly and hugged her tight. Jubal went to her and hugged her, too. Then Kelly came to me, and we kissed. Her eyes were full of tears, which she blinked away.

  “Come back,” she said.

  “I will.”

  And she turned and headed for the door, never looking back, just raising one hand in a small wave as she left.

  The three of us were glaring at Travis, and he looked back at us defiantly.

  “Okay, I’m the bad guy. What was I to do? You all heard my reasons.”

  “Nothing, Travis, nothing,” Mom said. “You did what you had to do.”

  I was still far from sure of that. And about 49 percent of me wanted to run after her, tell her I wasn’t going unless she went… but I didn’t think she’d respect me for it. I had to take her at her word, and she had said go.

  “Now everybody get some sleep,” Travis said. “Bright and early tomorrow morning we lift off. Nothing short of a hurricane’s going to stop us now.”

  I’d grown so superstitious about the project that I actually checked the weather report, though it was too early in the year for hurricanes. Sure enough, none was in sight.

  And I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep that night.

  But I slept.

  PART THREE

  26

  * * *

  “JUBAL WON’T BE going with us,” Travis said. I had just taken a bite of a Krispy Kreme, and suddenly I didn’t want it.

  It was four-thirty A.M. Dak and Alicia and Travis and me were sitting around a table that was looking very empty without Kelly and Jubal. The big doors leading out to the dock were open now, for the first time. Red Thunder was hooked to the overhead crane, and the leased barge was tied to the dock.

  “Is he sick?” Alicia asked.

  “Not really.” Travis sighed. “We decided a few weeks ago that he couldn’t go. He didn’t want y’all to know. He was afraid you’d not like him anymore.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I said.

  “That’s what I told him, too. But you know Jubal. Once he gets an idea in his head, there’s not much chance of convincing him otherwise.”

  “What’s the problem, Travis?” Dak asked.

  “Jubal… friends, it was always an iffy proposition, Jubal getting into that thing.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of Red Thunder. “Jubal doesn’t even fly. He’s afraid of flying and, worst of all, he can’t [296] stand small, closed spaces. Maybe you never noticed it, but Jubal doesn’t go aboard the ship. Claustrophobia. If it was just claustrophobia he might have made it. B
ut you add in the other phobia, it was just impossible. He could barely handle one hour the other night.”

  “Where is he now?” I asked.

  “That’s another thing. The main reason I wanted to take him with us is that he knows too much. The only place I could be sure of protecting him would be aboard ship. But that’s impossible. Jubal is going underground, people. Caleb left with Jubal last night. He’s taking him… I don’t know where. What I don’t know, I can’t tell. But even if I knew I wouldn’t tell you.

  “Jubal’s only hope is for us to get to Mars and back, and I’m afraid that, after we get back, all of you will have a lawyer as a constant companion for a few days, or weeks. Until it becomes clear to whoever might want to arrest us on some national security charge, suspend habeas corpus…. till it becomes clear they can’t get away with it.”

  WE HAD RAISED Red Thunder with the overhead crane and were inching it along the rails toward the barge when the rest of the liftoff party arrived, everyone in the know except Caleb and Jubal. Dak was up in the crane cab, sweating blood as he moved it at dead slow speed, just as he’d drilled a dozen times with our extra tank car, which we’d filled with cement to simulate the mass of the ship.

  Everyone gathered outside as Dak swung the ship out over the barge. Then three of us jumped down to the barge and pulled on the ropes attached to the landing struts until they were centered on the stress gauges, where we’d reinforced the deck of the barge. Dak eased it down. There was a loud creaking sound that nearly gave me a heart attack, but then she was down and sitting pretty as can be as the sun broke over the horizon and the first red rays shone on 2Loose’s masterpiece.

  We were all wearing our bomber jackets, even Mom and Maria and [297] Sam. Every time I looked at them I thought of Kelly, how she should be here. I was being swept by an emotional whirlwind, feeling cheated, alone, abandoned, and about to burst with anticipation because the big day was finally here.

  Dak got the ship perfectly in position, and we detached the hooks. Dak rolled the crane back into the warehouse and hurried down to ground level.

  Aunt Maria had a video camera, making a record of what could become an historical moment. Grace was snapping pictures with an old Pentax.

  “Where’s Seamus the shamus?” Travis asked Salty at one point.

  “Sleeping peacefully in a back alley behind a bar,” he said. “He’ll wake up in the drunk tank several hours after you’ve gone, and then he can tell his story to anybody he wants to. By then, you’ll all be famous.”

  “Yeah.” He looked around. “It’s a shame we have to be so quiet about this,” Travis said. “We ought to have brass bands, ticker tape, crowds of gawkers. They make a bigger fuss than this when a liner leaves Miami for a four-day cruise.”

  We were all standing around, awkwardly, wondering how to say good-bye when you’re off to Mars. Mars, for cryin’ out loud.

  Dak and I got hugs from Sam and Mom, respectively.

  “You come back, now,” Mom told me, and gave me a last hug.

  We all got together for a posed picture at the foot of the ramp, then Travis gave the high sign to the captain of the tug we’d hired to tow the barge out about five miles from shore. Seas were calm, winds low, a perfect day for a launch. Sam and Salty cast off the lines holding the barge to the dock… and we were moving.

  Our good-bye waves were cut a little short, though, when a plain white sedan came around the side of the warehouse, going way too fast. It stopped, and Agents Dallas and Lubbock got out.

  “Uh-oh,” Dak said. We were maybe two hundred yards from the pier, heading into Strickland Bay. From there we’d have to weave through several palmetto islands, go under a four-lane freeway bridge, [298] then through Spruce Creek, Ponce de Leon Cut, then cross the Halifax River, go through the inlet and out to the open sea. We figured about an hour to the inlet, give or take.

  But Dallas and Lubbock could change everything.

  “I wonder what the hell happened?” Travis said, watching the agents through his binoculars. “Are they on to us, or do they just have more questions?”

  “Pretty early for a routine interview, isn’t it?” Alicia asked.

  We all watched as the agents hurried up to our shore party, and we could see they were pretty pissed about something. They were shouting at all of them. Dallas-or was it Lubbock?-was standing almost toe-to-toe with my mother, and Mom didn’t retreat an inch. I found I was gritting my teeth. You touch my mother, you slimy bastard, and I’ll-

  Travis’s and Dak’s cell phones rang almost simultaneously. I could see Sam and Salty trying to keep their backs to the agents, letting Mom distract them. Travis picked up and nodded a few times.

  “Thanks, Salty,” he said. “Don’t resist. But if you get a chance, get your butts out of there. I think they’ll be too concerned about us to pay you much mind. Get back to the motel, all of you.” Travis hung up.

  “They may be on to us,” he said. “We’ll just sit tight and keep moving.”

  We watched as the agents abandoned their argument with Mom and hurried back to their car. Our friends and family faded back through the huge warehouse doors. I saw the street-side door open and all of them hurried through.

  Maybe somebody just made a connection between Travis Broussard, whose neighbor reported a flying saucer, and Celebration Broussard, in Everglades City. Sure, but the Gulf Coast from Florida to Southeast Texas is lousy with Broussards. There were three other Broussard families, no relation, in Everglades City alone.

  But it really didn’t matter that morning. The only thing that mattered was, What are they going to do about it?

  We found out within fifteen minutes. A Coast Guard helicopter came roaring toward us.

  [299] “That tears it,” Travis said. “Everybody board ship. Secure all airtight hatches.”

  We moved quickly, up the ramp, which I stayed behind to close and seal. The ramp seemed to move slower than it ever had. Then I went up through the suit room, into the central module, dogging the door behind me, making sure the green light came on. This is not a drill! kept sounding in my ears. This is not a drill!

  I found my acceleration couch and buckled in, semireclining, and put on my headphones. All the instruments I needed to see were on a movable panel, dozens of tiny television screens, three computer screens, switches, a trackball, gauges, red- and green-light pairs. Everything was showing green.

  “Dak, get me the Coast Guard freak,” Travis said.

  “Comin’ at ya, Cap’n Broussard,” Dak said. I saw the rows of numbers flash onto his screen. Meanwhile Travis had switched to a marine band to talk to the tugboat.

  “Captain Menendez, take us to the middle of Strickland Bay and cast us off. Then withdraw to a distance of one mile.”

  “We’re almost there already, Captain. I will do as you order.”

  I was going nuts, not having a window to look out of, and I think Dak and Alicia were, too. For a moment I couldn’t catch my breath, thinking of living in this little tin can for the next three weeks. But the feeling passed.

  We could hear a big racket outside, the helicopter hovering close, and somebody speaking though a bullhorn. Travis tuned the Coast Guard frequency.

  “-are ordered to cut your engines and prepare to be boarded. I repeat, tugboat and barge, you are ordered to-” Travis’s voice cut her off.

  “Coast Guard helicopter, this is private spaceship Red Thunder, aboard the barge. My countdown clock is running, and it is T minus one minute thirty seconds and counting. We have broken no laws, but you are welcome to board the tug or the barge after we lift off. Until then, I advise a distance of one mile, as the exhaust produced by this ship will be very large, and could endanger you. Over.”

  [300] There was a long, long silence.

  “Private spacecraft Red Thunder, this is Captain Katherine O’Malley, United States Coast Guard. I think we’ll take our chances with your… your exhaust. Prepare your ship for boarding. Over.”

  “Crew,” Trav
is said, “there are two Coast Guard cutters headed our way. Captain Menendez should be severing the lines in…” There was a slight lurch as the lines fell away from the barge and we were quickly dead in the water.

  “Captain Broussard, this is Captain Menendez. What’s going on? You told me this wasn’t illegal.”

  “It’s not, Captain. I’d advise you to let yourself be boarded, as you’ve done nothing wrong and have nothing to hide. Hasta la vista.”

  “Hasta la vista to you, too. And good luck… wherever you’re going.”

  “Will do.” There was a click as Travis switched channels. “Well, boys and girls, looks like it’s put up or shut up time. Are you ready?”

  “Go for it, Captain,” I said, happy to hear no quaver in my voice.

  “Let’s go,” Alicia said, and looked over and grinned at me. She reached over and took Dak’s hand. Dak smiled.

  “Banzai!” Dak shouted.

  “Up, up and away…” Travis muttered.

  For the first few seconds nothing much happened. I kept my eye on the three strain gauges, registering the weight of Red Thunder on each of her three legs. The numbers began to go down. And a loud roar was building outside.

  “Look at that helicopter skedaddle!” Travis shouted. He turned one of our cameras on it. Sure enough, it had turned and fled as if we were a bomb… no point in thinking about that.

  The roar built. The strain gauge numbers fled quickly across my screen.

  “Almost there…,” Travis crooned. I tapped a key and watched Travis sitting there surrounded by his controls and instruments. He had on an expression almost painful to watch, made of equal parts worry and euphoria at finally going back into space.

  [301] There was a lurch, and the ship seemed to lean a bit before Travis corrected. The roar now was a living beast, a truly amazing noise.

  “Crew, Red Thunder has left the planet,” Travis said, and the three of us cheered. One second later the ship lurched hard to the left, and Travis said something you don’t ever want to hear a pilot say: “Oops!”

  “What is-” That was Alicia, gripping the arms of her chair. But the ship righted itself. I switched to an external camera, looking down from the top of the ship. The superheated steam obscured most everything… but I could see some of the water surface, being dashed to oblivion by the power of our drive.