Starclimber (30 page)

“You’re too kind, Mr. Cruse.”

I liked the playful look in her eyes. It gave me a surge of energy. Three hours ago I hadn’t thought we had a chance. Now I figured we had a very decent shot.

Dr. Turgenev looked anxiously at his pocket watch. “No time to relax. We are in proper position now to alter trajectory and begin reentry, or we overshoot landing site. Who is going outside to turn on tank?”

In all the frenzy I hadn’t given much thought to this.

“When that valve’s opened,” Tobias said, “we’ll shoot backward like a bullet from a gun.”

“Much faster,” said Dr. Turgenev. “We already move at many thousands of miles an hour. Rocket will change course suddenly, and accelerate us even more.”

“Will the person outside be able to hold on?” I asked, alarmed.

“It will be big jolt,” Dr. Turgenev said. “But then, once we are accelerated, it will feel like nothing at all until we reach atmosphere.”

I looked from the captain to Tobias. “I’m worried about that big jolt. Will the safety lines hold?”

“I’ll make sure I have plenty of tethers,” said the captain.

I was speechless.

“You’re surprised, Mr. Cruse?” he said, smiling faintly.

“Well, sir, it’s just…what if something were to happen to you?”

“Then I have two superb astralnauts to take command of the ship. In any event, Mr. Cruse, this task is no more difficult than any of the others. I’ll be held snug during the acceleration.”

“Yes,” said Dr. Turgenev. “Just make sure to keep body away from valve, or gas jet will blast you to pieces.”

I swallowed. This was hardly reassuring. Had I been commander, I would’ve done the job myself too. But I had a terrible fear Captain Walken might come to harm. I’d known him since I was twelve, and in all that time his gaze upon me was the closest I had to a father’s.

“I’ll suit up for my prebreathe,” said the captain.

Dr. Turgenev looked startled. “No time. We must engage rocket in thirty minutes. This is essential.”

I swore under my breath. Of all the calculations we’d made earlier, we’d forgotten to leave time for the astralnaut to do this thirty-minute prebreathe.

“But it’s crucial,” I said anxiously. “Otherwise there’s a risk of the bends…”

“Fifteen minutes will have to be enough this time,” said the captain matter-of-factly. “Everyone buckle up, please. Mr. Cruse, I want you on the bridge, and Mr. Blanchard, you’ll be my spotter. Let’s suit up.”

Through the domed windows Dr. Turgenev and I watched Captain Walken glide into view and drift to the summit, where the oxygen tank was welded. He carefully tethered himself to the hull, then looked straight down at me. He gave me the thumb’s-up. I signed back.

“I’m ready,” came his voice over the radio. “Is everyone safely buckled in?”

I checked my safety restraints and Dr. Turgenev’s too. In the air lock, I knew, Tobias was strapped to his seat. In the B-Deck lounge, Kate and Miss Karr, Chef Vlad and Sir Hugh were all buckled up, awaiting the rocket blast that would send us homeward. The
Starclimber
had not been built for such violent treatment, and I hoped she was up to the test.

“We’re all snug, sir,” I replied.

“I’m going to open the valve,” he said. “Let’s see if we have enough wind to sail home by, eh, Mr. Cruse?”

“It should be a swift ride,” I said. “Hold tight, sir.”

I worried my voice sounded choked. I kept thinking of how this was the captain’s last journey, and how his wife and children awaited his return. I saw his hand lift and take hold of the tank’s valve. He turned it.

A razor-thin line of compressed air shot from the valve, already impossibly long. The ship leaped, every rivet and metal plate shrieking its distress. Captain Walken flew back, his four safety lines taut. He was perilously close to the oxygen jet, and he hauled back on his tethers to try to keep himself clear of its deadly path.

“Sir, are you all right?” I cried out.

“The lines are holding!” he said, sounding strained.

The stars beyond him began to shift, then slide, as we accelerated.

“Tank will empty in two minutes,” Dr. Turgenev said beside me.

I could not take my eyes off Captain Walken as the
Starclimber
hauled him through the ether. I was terrified he’d be torn apart in the rocket’s blast, and I begged his lines to hold and keep him clear. Every few seconds I’d ask him if he was all right, and he always replied with a terse yes. Gradually the ship’s screeches and groans faded to the occasional ominous creak. My eyes roved over the instruments, checking to make sure we’d not sprung a leak. We seemed to be holding together. Suddenly the white line of oxygen ended.

“Tank is spent,” said Dr. Turgenev. “We are at full speed.”

I wished I could see our planet, but she was at our stern now, hidden from those of us on the bridge. It made me nervous not to see my destination, and I could only trust Dr. Turgenev’s mathematics.

“We’re at full speed, captain,” I said over the radio. “Tobias, stand by to reel in.”

“Give the word—whenever you’re ready, sir,” came Tobias’s voice.

When I heard the pinging sounds, I thought they were a rattling within the ship’s vents. But then the noise came again, above my head this time, and something small and glittering pattered against the dome.

“Matt, we’ve got something striking the ship,” said Tobias from the air lock. “Little rocks…”

“Micrometeoroids,” said Captain Walken.

He hurriedly unstrapped his safety tethers from the dome. “Bring me in, please, Tobias.”

The captain pushed off. There was a clatter against the dome as pea-sized rocks deflected off the glass.

“They’re getting bigger!” I said.

All I heard over the radio was a startled grunt, and when I looked up Captain Walken’s body was limp.

“Captain!” I cried.

He made no reply.

“He’s been hit!” I told Tobias. “Get him in as fast as you can!”

“I’m bringing him in!”

I unbuckled myself and flew down the stairs, all the way to C-Deck. Outside the air lock, I watched helplessly through the window as Tobias hauled the captain’s body through the hatch. I couldn’t go in until the chamber was pressurized, so I just waited in torment.

“What’s wrong?” said Kate, suddenly at my side.

“Captain got hit,” I said, and could say nothing more.

The captain’s suit was all scratched up from the micrometeoroids, and as Tobias strapped him down to the bench, I saw that the top of his helmet had a big dent in it.

I caught Tobias’s attention and touched my head. He nodded and I saw him examining the captain’s helmet.

The moment the air lock was pressurized, I heaved open the door. I feared the worst, for the captain still wasn’t moving.

“Did it puncture his helmet?” I asked.

“Don’t think so,” Tobias said.

Together we undid his collar clamps and eased off the helmet. My hands shook. I feared I’d see the captain’s skull broken like an eggshell. There was certainly a great deal of blood matted in his hair. Fresh droplets drifted up into the air.

“He’s still breathing,” Kate said beside me.

“It’s a lot of blood,” I said.

“The scalp bleeds easily,” Kate said, “even from a superficial cut.”

She drifted closer and examined the captain’s head carefully with her fingers. “His skull’s not fractured. And I think the bleeding’s pretty much stopped.” She took a handkerchief and pressed it firmly against his skull. “Pass me some bandages.”

I pulled down the first-aid kit and helped her bandage his head. The captain twitched and mumbled something but didn’t wake.

“How is he?” asked Dr. Turgenev from the inner hatchway, his eyes red-rimmed with fatigue.

“I don’t know,” I said. “He’s still unconscious.”

“We enter atmosphere within minutes,” said the scientist. “It will be very rough.”

I made a decision. “Let’s strap him into his bunk with an oxygen mask.”

Tobias and I gently floated the captain out of the air lock and upstairs. When we passed through the lounge, Miss Karr gave a stifled gasp.

“He’s not dead,” I said. “Just knocked out. A space rock hit him.”

“Who’s going to fly the ship?” Sir Hugh demanded.

“It’s going to be fine, Sir Hugh,” I said.

“How can it be fine?” he cried. “We have no captain!”

“Silence!” growled Chef Vlad. “We have Mr. Cruse. Trust me, we are in good hands.”

In his cabin, Tobias and I strapped Captain Walken onto the bunk as snugly as we could. We set up a portable oxygen tank and fixed the mask to his face. I didn’t like to leave him alone, but he was breathing peacefully, and as Kate said, the bleeding had stopped. He had a little more color now. His pulse was steadier than mine.

Outside, we closed his door securely. Tobias looked over at me in silence. His thoughts, I was sure, mirrored my own. Our captain was unconscious and unable to help. The two of us were the ship’s only chance of returning safely home.

“We can do this,” I said.

He gave a nervous laugh. “I’m an underwater welder.”

“You’re an astralnaut,” I told him, “and we’re going to bring our ship home.”

“We’ll need some extra hands on the bridge,” he said. “Dr. Turgenev.”

I nodded. He was an obvious choice. He knew the ship like the back of his hand, and we’d doubtless need his mathematical expertise.

“And Kate,” I added. “She’s steady.”

“I’d trust her in a crisis,” Tobias agreed.

“We have our crew, then,” I said. “Let’s get ready on the bridge.”

W
e hurtled earthward.

After the initial jarring burst from our homemade rocket, there was absolutely no sensation of speed. Our flight was eerily silent and smooth, but I knew that would end when we reached earth’s atmosphere, sixty-two miles from the surface.

Even though we were much closer to the planet now, we were still weightless. Not because gravity was weak anymore, Dr. Turgenev told us, but because we were in free fall, plunging toward earth at immense speed.

“Exactly how fast are we going, Dr. Turgenev?” Kate asked, adjusting her harness in the seat next to mine.

The Russian scientist pushed back his spectacles. “Right now, twenty-two thousand five hundred seventy miles per hour, but this is just crude estimate.”

“Has any manmade object ever gone faster?” Kate asked, and though her voice was bright, I could tell she was talking from nerves.

“Is certainly world record,” said Dr. Turgenev with a kind smile.

“I don’t think I want any more world records,” Tobias said, checking his control panel.

“Five minutes until reentry,” said Dr. Turgenev, looking at the ship’s clock.

Below on A-Deck, Miss Karr and Sir Hugh and Chef Vlad were strapped into their bunks. That position, Dr. Turgenev had decided, would be safest for them. Upon reentry, all our bodies would become triple their normal weight. Miss Karr had protested anyway, saying she’d feel like a corpse in a crypt. I sympathized, for it was dark and frigid aboard the ship now, and I would’ve hated lying there alone, powerless, not knowing whether I might live or die. But there was no way around it.

It was so calm now, it was hard to believe our reentry would be as violent as Dr. Turgenev predicted. Flying a building through a typhoon was how he described it. On earth the atmosphere gave us life, but right now it was like armor, trying to keep us out. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but I didn’t really want Dr. Turgenev to be wrong. I wanted all his calculations to be flawless—they
had
to be. All those numbers, swirling in the air like dust…

I felt a great swelling bubble of hopelessness inside me, but I crushed it before it overwhelmed me. Almost all of Dr. Turgenev’s calculations had been correct. He was a genius. He wouldn’t fail us.

The four of us talked through the reentry procedure one more time, so Kate could hear it and the rest of us could rehearse it again. We’d divided up the tasks very simply, since we had no idea how difficult it would be to move and think during reentry. Dr. Turgenev had taped various instructions to the control panels in front of us.

“We are at three hundred miles,” said Dr. Turgenev, watching the ship’s clock. “Two hundred…. one hundred…”

The
Starclimber
began to vibrate lightly. I didn’t know what to expect. What was normal and what wasn’t? How would we know if we were too shallow and had bounced off the atmosphere back into deep space? And if we were too steep…well, that was easier to know. We’d be incinerated.

The vibration became a tremble, and then a steady shake.

“This is beginning of friction in outer atmosphere,” said Dr. Turgenev. “This is good news! We are in!”

“So far so good,” said Tobias.

My spirits lifted as the weight began returning to my body. My restraint straps pressed into my chest and shoulders. Beyond the windows there was still the darkness of space, but around the base of the dome it was brightening.

The shaking intensified.

“I hope Lunardi built this ship strong,” said Tobias.

“Lunardi builds all his ships strong,” I said.

To my left, I saw, Dr. Turgenev had strapped his cane to the wall, as though he fully intended to take it up when we landed and walk off the ship—as though nothing unusual had happened. It struck me as a very hopeful sign, and it cheered me up considerably.

The ride was much rougher now, and it was getting difficult to see straight.

I looked over and saw Kate fumbling with her hands. In astonishment I watched her yank off her engagement ring and fling it to the floor.

“I’d just like to say something,” she announced, her voice quavering as the ship juddered. “I don’t love George Sanderson.”

“James,” I corrected.

“I don’t love James Sanderson either,” she said. “And I have no intention of marrying him.” The ship shook violently, and she gulped. “I love Matt Cruse, and have for some time now! No matter what happens to us, I want everyone here to know that.”

Dr. Turgenev sighed wearily. “This we already knew.”

“You did?” Kate said, sounding astonished. “All along?”

“Everyone knows. Even Sir Hugh knows. It is painfully obvious.”

“Oh,” Kate said, disappointed. “I thought I’d done such a…Oh, well. You all know, and that’s what’s important.”

If I stretched, I could just reach her hand. Our fingertips touched, hooking together for a moment. Above us: the black sky, the stars, twinkling again. She’d never told me she loved me before, and hearing these words for the first time, I smiled, intoxicated with joy.

I looked up through the dome. “There’s your star,” I said.

“Our star,” she said.

“Do you know when I started loving you?” I said. I didn’t care that the others might hear.

“Tell me,” she said.

My voice rattled with the ship. “On the
Aurora
. I gave you the tour. I showed you the gas cells and said they were made from cows’ intestines. And you looked very serious and said, ‘It must have taken a great many cows.’”

Kate looked at me, surprised. “Really? That
exact
moment?”

“That’s it.”

“Hm. It’s not very romantic, but it’s completely unexpected,” she said. “I like that.”

From somewhere below came a horrible, drawn-out screech, like a piece of metal being twisted.

“What was that?” Tobias asked.

“Hull heating up,” said Dr. Turgenev.

“It
is
getting very hot in here,” Kate remarked.

Sweat filmed my back and belly. Beyond the windows, creeping around the sides of the ship, was orangy-blue light. It grew brighter still, and then it was suddenly streaming past the
Starclimber
in great sheets and ribbons, like our own aurora borealis.

Heat.

My heart broke into a gallop. I could
see
the heat. I imagined the ship’s stern, glowing like something in a forge, orange, then white. Soaking into the metal. Spreading up into C-Deck and B-Deck. How strong was the
Starclimber
? She wasn’t built to withstand such stress. How long before she buckled and melted away altogether?

We plunged backward through the upper atmosphere. My body felt as though it were cast from iron. Our chairs groaned ominously, pulling at their bolts. My restraints bit into my body, creaking with strain.

“No matter…what happens…we’re going home,” I said, touching Kate’s hand.

“I’d rather…it wasn’t as…a shooting star,” she said.

“There are…worse ways…of dying.”

Gravity clenched me tighter in its fists. I felt as though I could scarcely fill my lungs to breathe.

The ship shook. My body shook.

The entire world was pressing down on me.

My vision started to go red.

Stay awake. Stay awake. Stay…

Everything started to fade, like a painting tipped to its side, all the colors seeping out. I feared I’d black out altogether. Tobias had his eyes closed, grimacing, and I called out to him, but he didn’t answer. Or maybe I wasn’t making any noise, for my face was so heavy, I could hardly move my mouth.

My vision contracted to a tunnel.

So hot. My body was afire, itching unbearably against the clothing.

Overhead the stars disappeared and the sky was suddenly blue.

I heard beeping, and it took me a moment to realize it was the ship’s altimeter. I tried to find the gauge with my eyes. It was like looking through a spyglass in a small room; everything was too close. Finally I located it.

One hundred thousand feet and falling fast.

Emergency balloons. I blinked and squinted and found the lever on my panel. I was in charge of the starboard balloon, Tobias the port.

“To-bi-as!” I moaned. “To-bi-as…”

He wasn’t moving. I turned to look at Dr. Turgenev. Unconscious.

“Ka-ate!”

“Ye-e-s.”

“Ca-an you re-each po-ort balloon le-ver?”

“I thi-ink so.”

“Pull whe-en I sa-ay.”

I saw her reaching with great difficulty for the lever. At last her hand closed around it.

I struggled for mine. My hand stretched weirdly down the spyglass tunnel of my vision. The world weighed on my eyelids, urging them to close and rest and surrender.

“Matt. Take hold of the lever.”

Kate’s voice was so clear and calm that my eyes snapped open in surprise.

The lever was in my hand.

“We’re at seventy thousand feet,” she told me.

The altimeter could barely keep up with itself, we were falling so quickly.

If the balloons didn’t deploy—

If the compressed hydrium didn’t flow fast enough—

“Fifty thousand,” I said. “Forty-five…Now!”

My lever was stiff, and I worried I was too weak, but I gave a roar and pulled it down. Kate did the same with hers.

There was a great bang like something exploding, then a clamoring outside the bridge. The
Starclimber
rocked frightfully. Outside the dome two long white banners unfurled into the sky, then swelled as they filled with the compressed hydrium.

“Deployed!” I shouted.

The deceleration was instantaneous and brutal. My thousand-pound body was driven back against the chair, knocking the wind from my lungs. All across the bridge, things came unhinged and flew about, striking our bodies.

Please, do not let the balloon lines snap
, I begged silently.

The balloons grew, blocking my view of the blue sky. The altimeter’s beeping grew less urgent. We were slowing. The balloon lines held.

The altimeter had us at thirty thousand feet and still falling, though much more slowly now. The immense load on my body was easing.

“Are you all right?” I asked Kate.

She nodded, wheezing.

Tobias grunted and stirred.

“What has happened?” cried Dr. Turgenev, waking suddenly.

“The balloons are flying,” I said. “We’re slowing down.”

“We’re through?” Tobias said, not comprehending. “We did it?”

“We’re not done yet,” I said. “We’ve got to land this thing.”

“This is your job,” said Dr. Turgenev. “I am just scientist.”

“Let’s find out where we are,” I said, unbuckling myself.

The hydrium balloons were holding the
Starclimber
more or less vertical, though we were rocking now from the wind. I staggered to the window, my body feeling incredibly heavy after its days of weightlessness.

“Can you see anything?” Kate asked. She too had unbuckled herself and was coming over.

Below me was a sea of cloud. My heart rejoiced to be back in the sky, but we weren’t free of danger. There were almost thirty thousand feet between us and a safe landing. I wanted to get the
Starclimber
down as quickly as possibly. We lurched through a thick layer of cumulus, getting tossed about dreadfully. We all held tight.

“We should be over prairies,” said Dr. Turgenev.

I checked our compass. Normally I could always tell north. But after so many days in outer space, I needed to orient myself.

Down we went through the bellies of the last clouds.

“I see land!” cried Kate.

I saw water. True enough, off to the south was the brown texture of land, but directly below the
Starclimber
, and spreading off to the east and west, was water.

“Was there a lake near our landing site?” asked Tobias, surprised.

I ran around to the bridge’s north side. Nothing but water.

“This is no lake,” Dr. Turgenev said.

“Where are we?” Tobias demanded.

“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “What matters is we’re getting blown away from land.”

The
Starclimber
was no airship; her shape was ungainly, and we were rocking and spinning, and it was very difficult to move about the bridge.

“How do we steer?” Kate asked.

“Like a balloon,” I said. “Change altitude until we find a favorable current.”

It wouldn’t be easy. We had no ballast. Once we dropped, we couldn’t go back up. We couldn’t stop our descent.

I checked the altimeter: we’d leveled off at just under fifteen thousand feet. We had some height to play with, but not a lot.

“We’re going to valve some hydrium,” I told everyone. “We’ll drop bit by bit until we start heading south.”

Each hydrium balloon had an escape valve that could be triggered from the bridge. I put Tobias on the starboard controls and me on the port. A pressure gauge showed each balloon at full capacity. Each control was like the trigger of a gun. We’d need steady hands to keep the ship balanced.

“Dr. Turgenev and Kate, you’re the ship’s eyes now. When you see us start moving back toward land, shout out!”

They took opposite sides of the bridge and pressed their faces to the glass.

“Ready?” I asked Tobias. “Now!”

We squeezed our triggers. I kept my eyes on the pressure gauge and altimeter.

“Stop!” I said. We’d fallen a couple hundred feet, and the
Starclimber
spun about as the wind shifted.

“How’re we doing?” I shouted.

“We’re moving to the east now!” said Kate.

That was an improvement, but not enough.

“Valve again, go!” I told Tobias. Then: “Stop!”

It was a tricky thing. Lose too much hydrium and we’d drop too fast.

A big gust hit the
Starclimber
’s flank and swung us like a pendulum. Dr. Turgenev tripped and fell. We were at ten thousand feet now, running out of time.