Exo: A Novel (Jumper) (16 page)

“I wanted a
launch
,” I said, still grinning.

I held my hand out to Cory and helped him stand.

“You weren’t up there very long,” Cory said. “Was there a problem?”

“Cold,” I said. “Breathing was fine. I just didn’t want any more frostbite.”

Mom said, “And you want to go higher? Won’t it be colder?”

Cory explained to her about thermal transfer in a vacuum. “Just like a thermos,” he said. “Once we get out of the atmosphere, it will cease to be a problem.”

That’s right
, I thought.
We’ll have a whole
different
set of problems.

But no need to tell Mom that. Not yet.

Cory turned back to me. “Are you ready?”

I nodded inside the helmet. He checked the time and recorded it.

I waved at my parents. “Five minutes.”

Dad asked, “What about five minutes?”

“Back in five,” I said.

He stood up. “Where are you going?”

“The Kármán line.”

He held out his hand, palm out. “One hundred kilometers? Space? Don’t you thin—”

I was gone.

I cleared my ears at twenty-five thousand feet, then forty-five thousand, then added velocity, hitting the two hundred miles per hour the first time—eighty-nine meters per second—and increasing the velocity each time I coasted to a stop.

As Dad had warned, the civilian aviation GPS went from fifty-nine thousand feet to an “Invalid Data” message as I passed eighteen kilometers.

By the time I passed twenty-five kilometers my upward velocity was over 244 meters per second. Though my ears popped slightly, the air around me was so thin that significant pressure changes took longer and longer.

The display on the civilian GPS flickered and then died completely at fifty kilometers. At seventy-five kilometers I stopped feeling cold. I didn’t know if I was going so fast (six hundred meters per second) that I was getting friction warming, or if the air had finally thinned enough that it wasn’t carrying away my body heat. I wasn’t hearing the rush of air past the suit, like I had in lower altitudes.

My eyes were glued to the display and when I passed one hundred kilometers I was coasting upward at seven hundred meters per second. The only thing I could hear was the whir of the circulation fans, my own breathing, and the thudding of my heart.

I looked away from the GPS and down.

My god.

When you cry in free fall, the water does not run down your cheeks. It doesn’t even leave your eyes. I had to blink hard and shake my head to clear my vision. Forty-five thousand feet had been impressive but it was
nothing
compared to this.

I floated.

I’d plummeted before, but it was always in the atmosphere, quickly pushing against an almost solid wall of air, a dragging, noisy beast that plucks at your clothing and screams in your ears.

A glance at the GPS showed I was still coasting up, but it was utterly silent and I felt nothing pulling at me. The GPS showed me when I passed 102 kilometers, but I couldn’t really feel the motion.

I wiggled my fingers and moved my arms and legs. The suit was still comfortable. My breathing was still easy.

Per the GPS, my upward trajectory was slowing, slowing, and shortly, it would reverse. If I jumped again, but added velocity sideways, building up to 7,840 meters per second parallel to the surface of the earth, I would be in a circular orbit, but it wouldn’t last long.

Though I couldn’t hear it rushing past, there was still enough atmosphere at this altitude to generate drag, to decay the most circular of orbits.

Earth still made up most of my field of vision but at the edges it was curving away, clearly a globe, a sphere, a “big blue marble.” The weather below, in West Texas, was clear, but up in the panhandle a front was coming through, knife sharp, crystal clear to the south and brilliant white clouds to the north. I twisted my head to the right and flinched. It was just the briefest glimpse of the sun but I was seeing violet spots.

For a second I was seriously worried about my eyesight. Could I jump if I couldn’t see? Is that all it would take, a glimpse of the unfiltered sun, to maroon me up here?

Well, not maroon. I was at the upper end of a ballistic trajectory that was about to change direction. One way or another, I would return to the world below me.

I held my eyes shut until the spots faded. When I opened them back up, I had trouble focusing and then I realized it was the tears again, water balling up on the surface of my eyes. Blink, shake, blink, shake.

Below, the snaking progress of the Rio Grande cut through rough terrain thrown into sharp relief by the shadows cast by the midmorning sun. I looked at the GPS. My upward velocity was slowing, slowing, and I’d just passed 104 kilometers.

As of yesterday, when I’d looked it up online, the total number of humans who’d traveled into space was 623.

Not anymore.

My upward velocity finally slowed to zero and the GPS seemed to hang there for a second before it registered movement back toward the planet. Careful not to look at the sun again, I changed my orientation, jumping in place with no change in velocity, so that I was looking away from the bright globe, out into the black.

I could see stars, though not as many as I thought I’d see. Sunlight was entering the helmet from the side and bouncing around. I held up one hand, trying to block it, which helped a bit. Then I saw movement to the south, a bright pinprick movement, moving away—really moving—and then it seemed to swell as it became much brighter, and then faded back to its original pinprick.

Ha.
I’d seen one of these before, though from the ground. It was an Iridium flare, a reflection from the main mission antennae of an Iridium Communications satellite. They were in polar orbits 780 kilometers above the earth, nearly 700 kilometers higher than I was. I watched it until it passed the terminator of Earth’s shadow and blinked out.

I wanted to chase it.

Five minutes.

Right. Maybe next trip.

I returned in three jumps, brief pauses to let my ears equalize at twenty kilometers above sea level and then ten and then—

All three of them were standing. Mom and Dad were looking at the tarp and Cory had his head tilted up.

I staggered sideways, but regained my balance before they reached me. I held up my hand, forefinger to thumb, okay. I guess even four minutes of microgravity could make normal gravity seem odd.

Cory raised his eyebrows. “Well?”

I spoke up, to be heard outside the helmet, “One hundred and four kilometers.”

Mom’s lips were moving, then she said aloud, “Sixty-four miles?”

Dad said, “Close enough.”

“Were you cold?” she asked.

“No. Not a bit. Maybe I should try for orbit, Cory.”

He glared at me. “We had a
deal
.”

I sighed. “All right.” I started to reach for the main oxygen valve and stopped myself. “Checklist.”

It took only a minute to depressurize the helmet and get it off by the numbers.

“Your right cheekbone is sunburned,” Mom said, as she handed me a fresh bottle of water.

I touched the cheek with my suited hand. “Yep. Sure is. Sun was on that side.”

Cory leaned in and peered at it. “Damn. Polycarbonate is supposed to cut out most of the UV. Could be near-UV, I guess. We’ll need a protective visor.”

“Not sunglasses?” I said.

“How are you going to adjust between sunlight and shadow? Sunlight and eclipse?”

I nodded. “Got it. When are we going to be ready for the next test?”

He ran his finger down my arm, across the fabric of the suit. “Let me get this back into the lab. We tested the suit in a vacuum before and we even hit it with high-energy UV, but we want to make sure it’s not degrading now that it’s met the real thing. Also, there are other things we need to examine, remember?” He raised his eyebrows at me.

I blushed. “Right.” I turned to Mom. “Could you meet me back home after we get the suit off? I need some help.”

Dad swiveled his head. “What kind of help?”

I bit my lip, but not telling him would just cause him to imagine terrible things. “My skin. The suit seems to work fine, reinforcing it, but we need to check it.”

Dad looked puzzled.

“Everywhere
, Daddy.”

“Oh. Got it. I’ll, uh, just work on that other thing, then.”

Cory and Mom nodded.

My
turn to imagine the worst. “
What
other thing?”

“A way to handle the communications issue. We were discussing it while you were ‘out.’”

Mom muttered, “Longest five minutes
I’ve
spent lately.”

Cory said. “Satellite phone. If they work down here on Earth, with atmosphere and buildings and mountains, they should work even better in orbit. Your mom suggested it. She says she sees them used in remote sites in relief work.”

Dad gestured sharply at the sky. “The wait would have gone a lot easier if you were talking. When you have longer-duration tests, it’s just going to get worse. At least for us.” He made a little circle movement that took in Mom and Cory.

They still couldn’t come after me if I got into trouble, but I could see their point.

If I was out there, I could be fine, I could be dying, I could be in need of advice, I could just need to hear
their
voices.

Sort of like Joe.

I ground my teeth together.

It was the not knowing.

TWELVE

Davy: Satphone

Davy jumped to Sim Lim Square and flinched immediately back to the Yukon, his hair, shoes, and shirt soaked. Rain had been falling so heavily that he could barely see across the square. He changed his shirt and toweled his head dry, then put on foul-weather gear.

When he returned to Singapore, the standing water was up to the ankles of his rubber boots. He kicked his feet like a child splashing in a puddle as he walked across to the International Phone Emporium.

Lucas was standing inside the glass door staring out at the rain. He pushed it open for Davy, smiling as he recognized him.

Davy nodded. He waited under the overhang for a few seconds, to let the worst of the water drain off his gear, then ducked inside.

“Come in, come in! I never see such rain,
ar
? Every
Ah Tong Ah Seng
stay away today like they melt. What you want or not?”

“Satellite phone, Lucas. I need a satellite phone.”

Lucas’s face lit up. “Good
lau
! For where? You want for Europe, Africa, and Asia, make you very good deal on Thuraya phone. GSM
and
satellite handset.”

“I need it for everywhere.”

“What you mean, everywhere
ar
? Even way up north?”

“
Ya.”

“You need Iridium, then. I give you very good deal for prepaid SIM card. Okay deal for contract.”

In the end, Davy handed over several thousand dollars in cash and Lucas, smiling, gave him a bundle double wrapped in plastic against the rain.

Davy paused at the door and then turned back. He really couldn’t leave without warning Lucas.

“Uh, Lucas? When we start using this phone, people might come looking, right? I mean, the SIM will trace back to you,
ya
?”

Lucas frowned. “Why they looking? You kill someone?”

Davy smiled. “Of course not. But maybe you should not know who bought these.”

Lucas shook his head. “No, man. Next time when they ask I act blur.”

“Next time? They asked already?”

“Oh, no. Singlish. Next time.” He waved his hand forward. “Future time. Like ‘Next time when you married’ or ‘Next time get out of way’
ar
?”

“Oh. Okay. You act blur. More better.”

Lucas grinned. “I blur like
sotang
.” At Davy’s expression, he translated, “Like squid.”

Laughing, Davy went out into the rain.

THIRTEEN

Millie: Not Fair

“Looks like a hickey,” Millie said. She smiled. “Sure it was the suit?”

Cent winced. “You’re kidding, I hope. That would be an odd place for a ‘hickey.’ If it’s not an odd place, then I don’t want to know the details.”

Millie said, “Different strokes.”

Cent said, “Well I’m sure it’s not a hickey. Not
that
kind.”

Millie thought Cent sounded a little defensive.

Cent continued, “When we were testing, we sometimes got a marginal reading there, but not consistently.” She poked at it. “Doesn’t hurt.”

It was in Cent’s right armpit, a reddish bruise no bigger than the ball of Cent’s thumb. She’d told Millie that her skin had been a bit dry, too, but after showering and putting on some lotion the dryness went away.

There was only the one hickey.

“How much water do you lose out there?” Millie asked.

“I don’t know,” Cent said. “How would we find out?”

“Weigh yourself, before and after. If you pee, weigh that, too.”

“Cory probably already has it in his test protocols but I’ll mention it.” She handed Millie her phone. “Take a picture of the bruise for the records, okay?” She held a towel across her front while Millie did it.

“Let’s do the other armpit,” Millie said. “For comparison.”

Cent switched sides. “Sexy,” she said in a flat voice.

“Oh, go get dressed!”

*   *   *

Millie was standing at the kitchen sink staring out the window into a light snowfall when Davy returned.

Without looking at him, she said, “What were you
thinking
?”

She heard him lean back against the opposite counter before saying, “I was
thinking
that it would take a lot longer to develop a practical suit.”

She turned around. The minute he saw her face, he crossed his arms and his mouth got tight. She shook her head and then rubbed at her face with both hands, forcing the muscles to relax. “Didn’t exactly work like that.”

“He lost his funding. The people I asked said it would take him
years
. How was I to know that his one insurmountable problem could be solved by a teleport?”