Starclimber (21 page)

“We don’t have anything to worry about,” he said with complete authority. “The French obviously didn’t know what they were doing. But General Lancaster and our Aeroforce are taking good care of us.”

“Tickety-boo,” said Tobias softly.

At that moment Chef Vlad clanked out from the kitchen on his magnetic shoes. In one hand he held a dusty brown bottle with an impressively faded label.

“Mr. Lunardi gave me a very fine champagne,” he said, swaying back and forth. “He gave me express instructions to open it after the first space walk.”

“I think we could all use some champagne, Chef Vlad,” I said.

“I will uncork it carefully, so no one loses an eye, hey?”

“Wait—” I said, but was too late. He yanked out the cork. There was a loud pop, and champagne spurted swiftly across the room in a huge golden arc, instantly forming itself into a thousand perfect sparkling spheres.

“Ah yes, I forgot,” the Transylvanian chef remarked. “Drinking this may be somewhat of a problem now.”

“Not so,” said Dr. Turgenev, and he unbuckled himself and pushed off, sailing through the air and capturing a globe of champagne right in his mouth.

It was quite an amazing maneuver, and all the more remarkable because it was the doleful scientist who’d done it.

“What fun!” said Kate, shooting off in pursuit, her braided hair hovering above her head like a cobra waiting to strike.

“To outer space,” I said, launching myself after some champagne. “And the first man to walk in it. To you, Mr. Blanchard.”

“Congratulations, Blanchard,” said Shepherd, giving Tobias a cool nod. If he was consumed with jealousy, he did a good job hiding it.

“Thank you very much,” Tobias said. “The two of you’ll be out there soon. And I’m sure you’ll behave yourselves better than I did.”

It was a very merry time, as we all sailed about the lounge trying to catch bits of the champagne. Miss Karr clanked over to one of her cameras and flashed off picture after picture. Tired as he was, Tobias perked up after gulping a bit of champagne. Sir Hugh, refusing to unbuckle himself from his seat, used a long straw to suck in bits of champagne that floated within easy reach. Miss Karr tried the same technique, but grew impatient and slipped out of her magnetic shoes to join us in the air.

Haiku had figured out that his flatulence could give him an extra push midair, and he was now farting enthusiastically as he chased after champagne. But before long he was hanging upside down from the ceiling, flailing his arms about like an opera singer and singing an aria of delight, which, after several minutes, dwindled into a kind of parched whimpering.

“Look at him—he’s completely sloshed,” said Miss Karr. “You silly little monkey. That’ll teach you.”

Soon most of the champagne had been devoured.

“Where’s this space rock you brought aboard?” Kate asked.

“It’s down on C-Deck,” I said. “I strapped it to one of the lab workbenches.”

“This will be worth examining,” said Dr. Turgenev.

Something flashed beyond the window, and my breath caught. I floated closer to the glass and saw that it was only the astral cable, glinting in the sunlight. But something bothered me about it, and it took me a few seconds to realize why.

I shouldn’t be seeing the cable at all.

Normally the cable was all but impossible to spot from inside, since it ran directly beneath the ship. But right now the cable very gently curved out from the stern on its way earthward.

“Dr. Turgenev,” I said quietly, for I didn’t want to alarm anyone yet. I drew his attention to the astral cable. “What do you make of that?”

The Russian scientist gazed at it. I watched his long face, trying to guess what he was thinking and having no luck.

“There should not be curve,” he said finally, and though he spoke very softly, I felt my whole body tense.

Before I could ask any more, the ship’s phone rang.

I was closest and picked up. “Cruse here.”

“Mr. Cruse,” said the captain, “could you ask the entire crew to come up to the bridge. Dr. Turgenev as well, please. We have a problem.”

“I’
ve just heard from Mr. Lunardi at Ground Station,” the captain said when we reached the bridge. “He says the astral cable’s losing tension.”

“We have just seen it bulging behind us,” Dr. Turgenev said.

“What does this mean?” Tobias asked in alarm.

The Russian scientist removed his spectacles and polished them on his shirt. His hands, I noticed, were trembling.

“Is only one explanation. Counterweight is falling.”

Falling. The only thing in the universe that kept us aloft was falling. I caught myself holding my breath, as though I could suffocate my own fear. I inhaled. I looked over at Tobias, who I knew dreaded heights, and saw my own fear amplified in his eyes.

“Could it be sabotage?” said Shepherd.

“You mean the Babelites?” Tobias said in shock.

“A bomb on the counterweight,” I breathed, seeing a terrible image in my head. An explosion ripping through the rocket. The severed cable whirling earthward, carrying us with it.

Dr. Turgenev shook his head. “No, no. If bomb, we fall quickly. This is very slow. And remember, cable has been up for two months already, and tension was fine, no problems.”

“Is it us?” I said. “Our weight on the cable, dragging it down?”

“No, no—we plan for this, of course,” said the scientist. “Counterweight more than balances our mass…unless…” He tapped his fist against his chin, as though trying to hasten his thoughts. “Yes, yes, here is explanation. Rocket never went high enough.”

“You mean the counterweight never reached its proper altitude,” said Captain Walken.

“Correct,” said Dr. Turgenev.

“Why wouldn’t the rocket go high enough?” Shepherd demanded.

“This I don’t know,” said Dr. Turgenev, jetting to a locker and pulling out a thick binder. He started quickly paging through it.

“Just how fast is this thing coming down?” Shepherd asked.

“Moment, moment,” said the Russian, sounding harried.

Shepherd’s eyes grew colder still. “We need to make decisions now.”

“My decision’s already made, Mr. Shepherd,” said the captain. “We’re returning to earth at full speed. Tobias, radio Ground Station and let them know. Mr. Cruse, reverse the rollers please. Mr. Shepherd, stand by at the throttle.”

We all snapped to it, strapping ourselves down to our seats so we could work more easily. My hands flew over the control panel. I’d rehearsed this moment many times, but had always imagined it would come when we’d reached cable’s end and were making our triumphant return to earth.

“We’re ready, sir,” I said, after double-checking.

The captain nodded. “Mr. Shepherd, full speed, please.”

I heard the rollers quickly whir to life behind us in the central cable shaft. Up here in zero gravity there was no sense of motion, up or down. Only the ship’s vibration told me we were moving at all. It gave me some small comfort to know we were heading home, but was it fast enough?

I glanced over at Dr. Turgenev. He was poring over his sheaf of notes, scribbling frantically.

“Stop!” he cried suddenly. “Stop ship!”

Captain Walken gave no such order but looked attentively at the Russian scientist. “What’s the matter, Dr. Turgenev?”

“We will not make it.”

“To Ground Station?” Tobias said.

Dr. Turgenev shook his head.

“Are you sure?” the captain asked.

“This is five-day journey. In just two days counterweight will accelerate as it drops out of geosynchronous orbit. Cable crashes. We crash. We die. I am very sure of this.”

“We’ve got no other choice,” said Shepherd. “Captain, suggest we accelerate to flank speed.”

As much as I disliked Shepherd trying to take charge, I was with him on this one. I wanted to race for home and chance it, even if it might end in our deaths. What else was there to do?

“We do have choice!” said the scientist.

“Let’s hear it, please,” said Captain Walken, his patience showing no signs of cracking.

“We can reach counterweight in two days. Now—”

“You want us to climb higher?” Tobias exclaimed, echoing my own surprise. It seemed madness to crawl farther into space when we were already falling.

“Climb higher, yes,” said the scientist, thumping on his thick binder. “I think we will have time!”

“Time for what?” the captain asked.

“To save counterweight! I think I know reason for problem. Rocket shuts down engines too early.”

“Why would it do that?” I asked.

“Did it run out of fuel?” Shepherd asked.

Dr. Turgenev was shaking his head. “No! It had enough fuel. I do not know why it stops. Maybe some timer malfunction. Maybe simple as blown fuse. But important thing is, fuel is there. And if fuel is there, we can ignite rockets.”

“And send it to its proper altitude,” I said after a moment, understanding.

“Correct!” said the scientist.

“Will that work?” asked Tobias.

“I think maybe yes,” said Dr. Turgenev.

“Maybe isn’t good enough,” said Shepherd.

“Maybe’s all we’ve got right now,” said Tobias.

“Can the cable withstand the stress of a relaunch?” the captain asked.

“Yes,” said the scientist.

I watched the captain, already knowing what his decision would be but dreading it all the same—it seemed to run counter to all instinct.

“Mr. Shepherd, full stop,” said the captain.

Shepherd looked at him, his hand resting on the throttle but not moving it. No words passed between the two men, but I could see the power in both their gazes, and it scared me. Slowly Shepherd pulled back on the throttle and brought the
Starclimber
to a standstill.

The captain gave a curt nod. “Thank you. Dr. Turgenev, are you certain we can reignite these rockets?”

“Yes, yes. Inside, there is simplified control panel we use for tests.”

“How do we get inside?” I asked.

“Is no air lock,” said Dr. Turgenev. “But there is hatch can be removed.”

The captain gave orders to reverse the
Starclimber
’s rollers once more, and then we began to climb for cable’s end, this time at flank speed.

“Would shedding weight help?” I asked. “There must be things we could jettison.”

“Throw off monkey and we are fine,” said Dr. Turgenev, and gave a dry little laugh. “That is joke. To lighten mood. No. Throwing overboard makes no difference now. We are weightless up here, yes? Damage is already done. Counterweight will continue to fall until we stop it. We must hurry.”

“Once we get there,” said Shepherd. “How much time will we have to relaunch it?”

I waited nervously as Dr. Turgenev’s pencil flew across his notepad. He muttered as he worked. “At full speed…and assuming counterweight falls at exponential rate…we have maybe four hours. After that, counterweight’s velocity is too much, and we are too late to stop it.”

There was a moment of heavy silence. It didn’t seem like much time. I thought of all the things that needed to be done, that needed to happen, if we were to survive. In my mind it was like a high ladder with many rungs, some of which were splintered and weak.

“We’ll need blueprints of the rocket,” the captain said.

“These I can draw up,” said the Russian scientist.

“As detailed as you can, please. I want to know every inch of her.”

“The control panel too,” said Shepherd. “I want to see every button and switch of the launch procedure.”

“We could build a mock-up,” I suggested. “We’ve probably got enough spare parts.”

“Good,” said the captain.

“What about the hatch?” Tobias wanted to know. “Is it complicated?”

The scientist squinted, remembering. “Six bolts.”

“It’s like the
Starclimber
’s cargo bay door,” I said. “We could practice on that.”

“For this to work,” said Shepherd, “it’s got to be run like a military operation.”

Captain Walken looked at him sternly. “It will be run like a civilian operation, and will be done flawlessly. Now, we have some forty-eight hours before we reach the counterweight. I want everyone as agile as possible. We’ll start practicing on the cargo bay door in two-man shifts. Mr. Blanchard and Mr. Cruse, I want you to work with Dr. Turgenev on a mock-up of the control panel. Dr. Turgenev, we’ll need to know what parts we might need to replace. Mr. Shepherd, suit up—you’re going on the next space walk. I’ll be spotting you. Then we’ll switch places. Mr. Cruse, could you please go below and tell everyone what’s happening. Be as reassuring as you can, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

I made for the stairs, practicing my brave face. It felt like a mask.

In just half an hour, everything had changed.

If we ever wanted to see earth again, we had to race away from her with all speed. We had to perform a space walk, open a hatch that was never meant to be opened in outer space, and reignite engines that had mysteriously shut off. And now I had to go and convince Kate and everyone else that all would be well.

I took a deep breath as I floated down toward B-Deck. I decided a smile would be too forced, so I just tried to look confident. But in my head I couldn’t stop hearing the ship’s clock, ticking away our hours and minutes and seconds.

Space engulfed me.

Seeing it through the hatch was one thing, but I was out in the thick of it now for the first time. Any sense of up or down, east or west evaporated. I didn’t look at earth, or turn so I could see the ship. All I could see was stars and blackness, and I forced myself not to look away. I wanted to look it right in the face and not be afraid. I exhaled smoothly, trying to slow my pulse. Everything seemed very still, but I knew I was spinning with the planet at thousands of miles an hour, and that far above me, the counterweight that held us aloft was slowly but surely falling.

I should’ve panicked, but for some reason I didn’t. I was suddenly very calm. My chest rose and fell evenly. I’d been really worried I’d come apart when I did my space walk. If Tobias had been overwhelmed, what chance did I have?

But I could do this.

“You’re at fifty feet, Mr. Cruse,” came the captain’s voice inside my helmet. “Ready to get to work?”

I felt a slight backward tug as I reached the end of my line. I looked back at the
Starclimber
. My umbilicus undulated from the air lock, and I could see Captain Walken in the hatchway. The sun burnished the ship’s silver flanks. It really was a magnificent thing, and despite everything, I felt proud to serve aboard her.

“I’m ready, sir.”

“I’m timing you now.”

I had thirty minutes to maneuver myself down to the cargo bay hatch, secure myself to the hull, and see how many times I could remove and replace one of the hatch’s bolts.

It was late afternoon, and Shepherd and the captain had already made their first space walks. I was the last of the astralnauts to venture out. We’d stopped the
Starclimber
for Tobias’s space walk—but not anymore. We couldn’t afford the time. We’d need to train while the ship was rising at a hundred and twenty aeroknots, and us with it.

It had been only six hours since we’d learned about the counterweight, and we were all furiously busy. Inside the
Starclimber
Tobias was putting together a mock-up control panel; Dr. Turgenev was assembling those blueprints we had, and drawing the others from memory. Shepherd was in charge of logistics, and was mapping out the entire procedure, action by action. minute by minute.

I sighted the cargo bay hatch. It was beneath the air lock and off to one side, closer than I liked to the astral cable and its deadly current. Now I had to get down there. I fired off a little burst with my air pistol, and right away I saw how tricky it was to use effectively. Unless you pointed it just right, you could veer off in the wrong direction, or spin yourself upside down.

I flailed about for a while, hoping that Kate wasn’t seeing this—or Miss Karr. I didn’t really want any pictures of me looking like a great drunken ballerina. How had Tobias managed it? My time was ticking away. I decided to get to the ship’s hull as fast as I could; there were hand-and footholds there. I gave a little tug on my umbilicus to get me going, and steered with the air pistol. I thudded against the ship and managed to grab a handhold before I bounced off.

“You’re at twenty minutes, Mr. Cruse.”

Just ten minutes left! And I wasn’t even at the cargo hatch!

My legs and torso floated up away from the ship, which wasn’t very helpful, but there was no way of getting them back down, so I had to traverse the hull using just my hands. Though I weighed nothing at all, by the time I reached the hatch, I was soaked with sweat, and my visor was starting to mist up. I was just reaching into my tool belt for a wrench when the captain’s voice sounded in my helmet.

“Time’s up, Mr. Cruse. I’ll reel you in now.”

“I’ve only just reached the hatch, sir,” I said, my voice heavy with disappointment. I knew the captain and Shepherd had screwed in two bolts on their first walks.

“Don’t be discouraged, Mr. Cruse,” the captain said as I released my grip on the ship and started floating back toward the air lock. “You’ll soon have a feel for it.”

Aboard the
Aurora
they’d said I was lighter than air, I was so agile in the sky.

So why did I feel leaden in outer space?

When I was back inside, we pressurized the air lock and removed our helmets. The captain was looking at me curiously.

“You were humming out there, Mr. Cruse.”

“Was I, sir?” I said, completely surprised.

“From the very start. Quite a symphony.”

He hummed a bit for me, and it was the strangest thing, for I instantly recognized the sound. I realized it had been playing in my head from the moment I’d stared into the deeps of space and felt calm. At first it was just a single clear note that quickly faded out, then came back, accompanied by a hundred violins being stroked in unison. There were other sounds too, too odd to come from any earthly orchestra, but beautiful and eerie, and beyond them a kind of deep, penetrating pulse that I’d felt through my bones.