Starclimber (24 page)

“Yes, all right,” he muttered, still struggling with his clothing. “Uh, thank you, Mr. Cruse. Most kind. I can take it from here.”

I gratefully closed the door behind me and hoped I’d never have to see Sir Hugh’s bum again.

When I reported for bridge duty, Shepherd was already there, listening intently with Tobias as Captain Walken talked to Ground Station. Twenty thousand miles away, Mr. Lunardi’s voice came crackling over our speaker.

“I’m sorry to deliver this news, Samuel,” he said. “I know you’ve got enough to deal with right now. But General Lancaster’s taking it very seriously and thinks you should too.”

“Thank you, Otto,” said the captain. “You’ll be hearing from us soon.”

“Good luck, Samuel.”

“
Starclimber
out,” said the captain, and removed his headset.

“What’s going on?” I asked, looking around at everyone.

The captain rubbed his temples. “Apparently the Babelites sent the Aeroforce a message. They say there’s a bomb aboard the
Starclimber
.”

I felt numb but not surprised, for I’d worried almost constantly about just such a thing happening.

“There can’t be a bomb aboard,” said Tobias. “It’s just a stupid hoax!”

Shepherd shook his head. “The general wouldn’t warn us if he thought it was just a hoax.”

“Every inch of the ship was checked,” I said. “Every bit of cargo. There’s no way they could sneak a bomb aboard.”

“Unless one of us brought it aboard,” said Shepherd.

I stared at Shepherd, openmouthed with disbelief.

“You’re suggesting one of us is a Babelite?” said Captain Walken.

“I’m suggesting it’s a possibility,” he replied.

The captain shook his head. “Everyone’s been carefully screened.”

“Like Grendel Eriksson?” Shepherd retorted. “Right under our noses the whole time. I don’t have that much faith in Mr. Lunardi. We should think about this very carefully.”

“So who’ve you got in mind, Shepherd?” Tobias asked, his eyebrows angled dangerously. “Miss de Vries? She’s a suffragette, after all. Practically an anarchist. Or how about Miss Karr? Or maybe her bloody monkey?”

“I was thinking more of you, Blanchard.”

“You’re not serious, Shepherd!” I said.

“Enough of this!” said the captain.

“Hear me out, sir,” said Shepherd, his eyes fixed on Tobias. “Of all the people aboard he’s not known well by anyone else.”

“Neither are you, Shepherd,” I said.

“The Aeroforce has a record a mile long on me. But who can really vouch for Blanchard? He’s not sure we should even be in outer space—he’s said as much to me.”

Tobias was red-faced. “If I was secretly a Babelite, I’d hardly be talking like that, would I?” he shouted.

“Why are you getting so angry, Blanchard?” Shepherd asked calmly.

I should’ve leapt to Tobias’s defense, but all I could think about was what Tobias had said toward the end of his space walk.
Shouldn’t be here…don’t belong
. I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, because I thought it was just his mind wandering. But I stared at him now, looking like he was ready to take a swing at Shepherd—and I wondered. I wondered if he could truly be a Babelite. Back in Paris I’d flown for two weeks with one and never had a clue.

“Enough!” said the captain once more. “This is a waste of our time, gentlemen. We can’t afford to be distracted. Mr. Blanchard is no Babelite, nor is anyone else aboard. The idea is absurd.”

Hearing the captain’s fierce certainty made me feel ashamed of my doubts.

“We’re going to ignore the Babelites’ threat,” said Captain Walken, “and that’s an end to it.”

“You’re making the wrong decision, sir,” said Shepherd.

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t believe Shepherd’s insolence.

The captain’s voice was hard. “Mr. Shepherd, you’d do well to remember there can be only one captain aboard ship.”

“With respect, sir, I think we got the wrong one for this expedition.”

I’d served under Captain Walken for three years, and I’d never seen the ferocious face he wore now. “Be very careful what you say, Mr. Shepherd. I am a tolerant commander, but one thing I will not tolerate is mutinous talk. I will overlook it this once, as you are clearly under strain, but let me hear no more of it. Do you understand?”

Shepherd stared back at the captain, then looked down. “Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s get back to work, gentlemen.”

“And we have liftoff!” Dr. Turgenev said. “Is simple, yes?”

Tobias and I drifted back from the mock-up control panel we’d built in an empty stretch of B-Deck behind the kitchen. We’d all been taking turns, practicing the ignition sequence, and this was my third run-through.

“How fast were we that time?” I asked Shepherd, who held a stopwatch.

“Seven minutes,” he said. “We need to shave it down to six.”

“One lousy minute,” grumbled Tobias.

“One lousy minute could make all the difference, Blanchard,” he said.

Tobias glared at him, and I worried there might be another flare-up. It was four in the morning, and we were all worn out, but there was no chance of a decent rest. According to Dr. Turgenev’s calculations, we were six hours away from the counterweight. The moment we reached it, we’d all have to get to work. The captain hadn’t yet told us who the two space walkers would be.

The timeline was seared into my memory by now. Forty minutes for suiting up and doing the prebreathe in the air lock. Thirty minutes to get from the air lock to the counterweight’s hatch. Thirty minutes to open it. Twenty minutes to get inside and set up in front of the control panel. Six minutes for the ignition sequence. Thirty minutes to get back to the ship. And thirty minutes for the
Starclimber
to reverse away from the counterweight at top speed so we didn’t get incinerated by the rockets.

“We need everything to go like clockwork,” Shepherd said. “If something happens, or someone messes up along the way, we might not make it.”

It was too terrible to think about—the counterweight, unstoppable, taking us with it on its fatal plunge earthward. We’d just need to be faster, at the control panel, at the hatch, and at all the space walks between the
Starclimber
and the counterweight.

Shepherd looked pale and a bit pinched and kept rubbing his forehead.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Fine,” he said. “Let’s reset and go again.”

I started flipping switches and by accident ripped one right out of the console. I tried to snap it back into place, without any luck.

“Don’t worry,” said Tobias. “That one’s not important.”

“They’re all important if you flip the wrong one,” said Shepherd.

Tobias was about to say something, but Dr. Turgenev cut him off. “Mr. Shepherd is correct. Very important not to be clumsy with controls.”

I stared at all the small switches and dials and buttons and realized something.

“We
will
be clumsy though,” I said. “All of us.”

“What are you talking about, Cruse?” said Shepherd.

“I’ll show you,” I said, and jetted down to C-Deck and the air lock.

When I came back to the lounge, I was wearing a pair of space suit gauntlets. I reached for the controls with my huge, stiff fingers. It was impossible to grasp some of the switches, they were so thin and close together.

“He’s right,” said Tobias. “There’s no way we can do it in the gloves.”

Dr. Turgenev was nodding. “Is very good to know, Mr. Cruse. Well done. I had not thought of this.”

I glanced over at Shepherd, stupidly hoping he’d look impressed. He didn’t. He seemed irritated.

“We can use needle-nose pliers,” he said.

“That’ll work,” said Tobias. “But it’ll take longer.”

“Six minutes,” said Shepherd.

“You’ve got to give us more time,” Tobias insisted.

“I can’t invent more time,” said Shepherd. “You’ll do it in six—unless you want to sabotage the whole thing, Blanchard.”

“Oh, right,” said Tobias, his temper flaring, “I was forgetting. I’m a Babelite. And Cruse is too young and can’t take the pressure. Is there anyone you do trust, Shepherd, you arrogant git?”

Shepherd’s normally placid face darkened with fury, and he pushed himself at Tobias.

Hurriedly I put myself between them.

“Stop it!” I shouted. “This is what they want!
Exactly
what the Babelites want. They want us to fall apart and start attacking one another. They don’t need to put a bomb on our ship to make us fail. Just make us start doubting each other.”

Dr. Turgenev gave me an approving nod.

“All right. Fine,” said Tobias, breathing hard.

Shepherd said nothing for a moment. “We can add on a few minutes for the ignition sequence,” he said. “I’ll steal it from somewhere else. So let’s put our gloves and tool belts on and get it right. The clock’s ticking.”

After running through the sequence a few more times, Tobias had to report for bridge duty. I had an hour before my shift, and was headed back to my cabin for a rest. Floating along the A-Deck corridor was an envelope. It was hardly unusual to see things floating about—sometimes very unusual things at that. I’d once found Sir Hugh drifting along A-Deck in his pajamas, fast asleep. I suppose he’d forgotten to strap himself into his bunk.

I grabbed the envelope and saw that Kate’s name was written on the outside. Not just her name, but the words “
My darling Kate.”
The handwriting was not mine.

I shouldn’t have, but I did: I stuffed it into my pocket and hurried inside my cabin. I had the place to myself. I turned on the light and pulled out the letter. The envelope had been slit open, so Kate must have read it already. Hovering near the ceiling, I extracted a piece of creamy paper, unfolded it, and began to read.

Dearest Kate,

I wanted you to have this letter to open after you’d embarked, so you might have some reminder of me on your historic expedition. Here is a photo of me that is not bad, and might help keep you company on those lonely nights in outer space.

Swallowing back my jealousy, I glanced at the small sepia portrait of him in a fine suit, looking at the camera, head cocked, as though having some very stimulating and original thoughts. The camera made him look smarter and more handsome than he was. I went back to the letter.

My darling, I just wanted to say again that you have made me the happiest of men by agreeing to marry me. I must confess that I’ve admired you from afar for years. I’m terribly sad that you have to go away so soon upon our engagement, but know how important this expedition is to you, and wouldn’t prevent it for the world, my sweet.

His endearments made me feel quite ill. He wrote with a passion I hadn’t expected. It was clear he was besotted with her.

Let me also say, dear Kate, that I have the highest regard for your professional ambitions. I myself have long been fascinated by the mysterious and unknown. How wonderful to know I have found a soul mate with whom to explore these tantalizing realms. Rest assured that no interest of yours could repel me, and I look forward to joining you on your secret nighttime excursions.

Nighttime excursions? The fellow still actually thought Kate was skulking around robbing graves. I cursed myself for talking to him at the garden party and filling his head with wild notions!

Now, to the most important part of my letter. You asked me a question the night before your departure. You wanted to know if I’d let you carry on with your studies and scientific pursuits once we were married. You wanted to know if you could lead the life you’ve always wanted. And my answer is yes! You may do whatever you please. I will not try to discourage you but do everything I can to help. You will have all the money and time you wish. You have my promise. I wish I could embrace and kiss you right now, my sweet, and I eagerly await your return so we can come to know each other more intimately.

Your James
xxoo

My pulse pounded in my ears. She’d told me she had no intention of marrying Sanderson, so why even bother asking him that question? I realized I was crumpling the letter in my hands, ripping it to shreds. My cheeks were wet. The
Starclimber
and all our lives were in peril, but all I could think about right now was Kate and James Sanderson. It seemed to me that he’d offered her absolutely everything she’d ever wanted—and that Kate meant to take it.

“I
think she might marry him,” I told Tobias.

We were alone on the bridge, and I’d just finished telling him about Sanderson’s letter. I needed to tell someone before my fury and anxiety swelled like nitrogen bubbles in my bloodstream.

“But she doesn’t even like him,” Tobias said.

“No, but she loves what he’s offering—the chance to do whatever she wants for the rest of her life.”

It was coming on nine o’clock in the morning, and we were traveling at flank speed. Our main duty was as lookouts now, for we were supposed to reach the counterweight around ten o’clock by Dr. Turgenev’s reckoning. We were some twenty-one thousand miles from earth. We’d switched on the bow-mounted searchlights, and they blazed a column of light along the astral cable. The captain had told us we should be able to see the counterweight from quite a distance, but we weren’t taking any chances. A collision was the last thing we needed. Tipped right back in our chairs so we could stare straight up, Tobias and I took ten-minute shifts as lookout, so our eyes wouldn’t weary.

“I don’t understand,” Tobias said. “She’s rich already. She doesn’t need Sanderson’s money to do what she wants, does she?”

I shook my head. “It’s not just the money. If she breaks off this engagement, even if she makes up some fantastic story, her parents aren’t stupid. They’re going to know she’s tricked them. They might cut her off for good. No more money, no more university, no more Paris. Just drinking tea and sewing little doilies in Lionsgate City. But if she goes through with the marriage, she’s guaranteed
everything
she wants.”

“Not everything,” said Tobias. “Not you.”

I sighed. “That’s what worries me. What if she can do without me?”

“Come on, Matt, what does Kate want more? You or her work?”

“You’ve seen what’s she like. She was ready to keep that etherian hatchling aboard even if it ate people.”

“She’s pretty determined,” Tobias admitted.

We sat for a moment in silence. I was waiting for Tobias to leap in with something brilliant that would set all my worries to rest. I looked off to starboard and saw the star I’d named for Kate, twinkling tauntingly, reminding me how very far away it was.

“Look, I’m no expert on these things,” Tobias said, “but it seems pretty simple to me. Ask her to marry you.”

I looked at him, horrified.

“Isn’t that what you want?” Tobias asked.

“Yeah, but I’m not sure I want to get married yet.”

“The engagement can go on for years,” Tobias said. “One of my cousins was engaged for five years while he got established. Just propose to Kate. If she loves you, she’ll say yes. But if she says no, and makes up some excuse, then you’ll know it’s never going to work out. You’ll just get your heart broken. In the long run, it’s best to know now, don’t you think?”

I thought for a few moments, then said, “You’re right, Tobias. Thanks.”

He shrugged. “What do I know about girls? I just sit on them. Anyway, if you’re going to ask her to marry you, you might want to do it soon, because we might be dead before long.”

I laughed at myself. “Yeah, sorry, I’m thinking about all the wrong things.” It seemed ridiculous to worry about Kate right now, but she was such a big part of my life, I could never shut out the thought of her for long. I glanced at the ship’s clock and took over from Tobias as lookout.

“Shepherd and the captain are going to be making the space walk,” Tobias said. “Don’t you think? We’re on duty, they’re resting up.”

“Makes sense,” I said. Part of me was relieved. It was a huge job, and all our lives depended on its success. I’d become much swifter after all the practice runs, but I worried I’d make a mistake, especially if I was paired with Shepherd. He was good, but he was no team player, and his lack of confidence in me undermined my own.

Directly overhead, something sparkled in the ship’s searchlights.

“Look!” I cried.

“Is that it?” said Tobias.

It was like a small metal moon, still a ways off, but growing, slow and steady.

“Yeah, that’s it,” I said, checking the pictures Dr. Turgenev had drawn for us. Taped to our control panel, they showed what the counterweight would look like from various distances as we approached. “We’re at sixty miles, I’d say.”

“I’ll go wake everyone,” said Tobias.

“Dead slow, please, Mr. Blanchard,” the captain said.

We all stared up through the glass dome, the four astralnauts and Dr. Turgenev, watching tensely as the
Starclimber
crawled toward the underside of the counterweight.

Now that we were closer, we saw how truly immense it was. Its stern loomed over us, its four protruding rocket engines each the size of the
Starclimber
. From the very center of the stern ran the astral cable.

“There is room, there is room,” said Dr. Turgenev as the
Starclimber
eased up between the four rocket engines, closer to the ship’s hull. I felt my shoulders tensing as the great singed columns of the engines slid past the windows, for it seemed very tight; but according to the blueprints, the
Starclimber
was designed to fit between them.

I looked over at Shepherd and saw him squinting and rubbing at his left brow.

“And full stop, please,” said the captain, when our flexed spider arms were within twenty feet of the counterweight’s hull. “Dr. Turgenev, how much time do we have?”

The scientist had been furiously jotting notes. “Two hundred five minutes, give or take a few minutes.”

“We’re in good shape,” the captain said. “Our best time in trials was a hundred and eighty minutes. Mr. Shepherd and I will be making the walk. Mr. Blanchard, I want you in the air lock spotting us, and guiding us back when the time comes. Mr. Cruse, I want you up here at the helm. As soon as we’re in the air lock, you put the
Starclimber
into reverse at flank speed.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s head to the air lock, Mr. Shepherd.”

Shepherd was blinking a lot, one hand to his face as though shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare. He was very pale.

“Are you all right?” I asked him quietly.

He waved me away. But he was clumsy as he sailed toward the stairs, and he overshot, colliding with the wall.

“Mr. Shepherd, are you unwell?” the captain asked.

“Just a headache,” he muttered, his voice sounding thick.

The captain floated over to him. Shepherd kept blinking as if having trouble focusing. A tremor of fear passed through me. We needed Shepherd strong. As much as I disliked him, he was our best astralnaut.

“How bad is the pain?” the captain asked.

“It’ll pass.”

“Does the light hurt your eyes?”

“Some. Not much.”

“Catch,” said the captain, tossing a pencil in his direction. Squinting, Shepherd grabbed for it, but missed by a foot.

“You’re having a migraine, Mr. Shepherd. My wife’s a sufferer. How long have you had this condition?”

“Not a condition, sir,” said Shepherd. “I’ve had maybe three my whole life.”

The captain didn’t look convinced. “How long do they last?”

“They come on real slow, and mostly go away without amounting to much.” Without warning he turned and retched, his vomitus drifting in the air.

The captain placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not going out.”

He turned and looked from Tobias to me. He’d pick Tobias. I’d improved, but my friend was still more agile in outer space. That was the right choice.

“You’re coming with me, Mr. Cruse,” the captain said.

“Me, sir?” I said, astounded—and afraid.

“Cruse can’t do it,” Shepherd said, gripping his temples.

“Mr. Cruse is more than capable,” said the captain. “Mr. Blanchard, you’ll remain spotter. Mr. Shepherd, I suggest you get some rest. You’re in no fit state to be on duty. Dr. Turgenev, you know the controls as well as we do. We’ll need you to reverse the
Starclimber
and take us down before the rockets ignite.”

“This I can do.” The Russian scientist nodded but looked nervously out at the enormous engines. I imagined them spewing flame, creating enough heat to melt the ship to slag.

“We’ve already lost a few precious minutes,” said the captain. “Mr. Blanchard, Mr. Cruse, to the air lock.”

It was a kind of torture, to know our seconds were ticking away and to have to sit still, breathing tanked oxygen in the air lock. I tried not to think about everything we needed to do in the next three hours. I looked over at the captain.

“You’ll be glad to return to the
Aurora
after this, sir,” I said.

“She’s a grand ship. But this is my last voyage as captain.”

I was stunned. “I didn’t know that, sir.”

“No captain likes to talk of retiring.”

I felt a keen disappointment. I’d always hoped that one day I’d work as an officer aboard the
Aurora
, under Captain Walken’s command. But right now it was also comforting to imagine him retired, safe at home. It meant we would live through this.

“Well, sir, it’s hard to imagine a more dramatic finish for your career,” I said.

He chuckled. “Indeed. We’ll be quite the heroes when we return home.”

“You’ll probably be happy to have your feet on the ground,” Tobias said, and added, “I know I will.”

“It’s no easy thing to give up the sky,” the captain said. “But I made a promise to my wife. She and the children have seen me off on far too many long voyages. It’s been hard on them, and me too. So I promised to retire early, to see more of them all. I’m finally to be at anchor.”

It made me think of the life I wanted for myself. Always sailing off somewhere. Was it foolish to think I could fit Kate into it, if she’d even have me?

“But you don’t regret it, do you, sir?” I asked. “The airborne life?”

He smiled. “Not at all. It’s been grand. Now, let’s get our helmets on, gentlemen. We’re ready.”

We jetted out from the air lock, between two of the counterweight’s massive engines. It was like traveling through a metal canyon, and we took special care to keep our umbilicuses from getting tangled. I breathed a sigh of relief when we were through and into open space.

I slowed myself with my air pistol and looked up at the counterweight. I hadn’t seen it properly before now. It was truly enormous, rising up like the Eiffel Tower, and looking bizarrely out of place in the astral ether. It seemed incredible that it had been able to blast off from earth. Carefully I maneuvered my body and, with a pulse of compressed air, guided myself up beside the counterweight’s hull toward the access hatch.

I had no watch, and every moment out here was so absorbing that I lost all sense of time. Tobias was our clock, calling out every five minutes; and the gaps between some times seemed an age, and other times little more than a few heartbeats.

“We’re at the hatch,” the captain said, when we’d secured ourselves to the hull.

“This is very good,” came Dr. Turgenev’s voice now. He’d managed to rig our radios so he could communicate with us from the bridge and give us directions once we were inside. “You are three minutes ahead of schedule.”

“Off to a good start,” the captain said.

The hatch wasn’t exactly like our own cargo door, but not far off. It was the handholds that were the problem. They were in different places, and it took me a while to get into a proper working position. As I readied my tools, the music of the spheres played in some secret part of my mind, soothing me. I worked steadily, without talking, without thinking of anything except the next motion of my body. I thought I was doing well until I heard Tobias’s time call and realized I was nearly behind schedule.

I looked over to see Captain Walken working on his last bolt; I was just finishing my second. I tried to hurry and very nearly lost my wrench.

“Steady, Mr. Cruse,” said the captain. “You’re doing well.”

I fought my frustration and kept going. Never did I forget that time was streaming past, even though I couldn’t tell how quickly or slowly. When my last bolt finally drifted off, I almost cheered.

The captain turned the handle, and I pushed. The hatch popped in and folded back on its hinges against the hull.

“We have the hatch open,” the captain reported.

“You are five minutes behind. This is not bad,” said Dr. Turgenev.

My limbs felt shaky with fatigue. It was the longest any of us had been out at one time. Moisture had started to form and freeze along the bottom of my visor.

“We’re going inside,” the captain said.

I felt the tight grip of claustrophobia. The hatchway was small, and it was pitch-black inside. The captain went first, and I followed, checking our umbilicuses once more. I was grateful for our helmet-mounted lamps, which cast powerful beams of light.

It was like stumbling upon something from another civilization, a cathedral or a factory. The inside of the counterweight was a vast spoolworks, an intricate arrangement of gears and colossal cylinders welded into place, one above the other, carrying tens of thousands of miles of astral cable. Most of the spools were empty, but a hundred feet above me, near the counterweight’s peak, I saw several cylinders still wound with tight rows.

“I see some cable,” I said, with huge relief. Dr. Turgenev was right. The counterweight had never gone high enough and never paid out its full length of astral cable. It was still there, just waiting to be deployed.

“Yes, is good,” said Dr. Turgenev, sounding unsurprised. His matter-of-factness reassured me. Maybe our plan was possible after all. “Now, please find control panel.”

From the blueprints, I knew the panel wasn’t far from the access hatch. A spindly catwalk had been built around the inside hull, and my beam of light picked out a massive control panel about twenty feet along.

I kept checking back over my shoulder as we moved toward it, making sure our umbilicuses ran clear. It would be all too easy for them to get tangled up on something.