The Road to Mars: A Post-Modem Novel (1999) (28 page)

“I have so much enjoyed our little talk. Let’s do it again real soon.”

This was his cue. If he didn’t get out now, he never would. Boo wrenched himself free and scampered away into the safety of the surrounding darkness. There was ironic applause as he left.

From high up on the quartermaster’s deck Rogers looked down on this scene in total disbelief.

“This is it? We’re waiting for this…
circus?
”

Mitchell shrugged, secretly enjoying his discomfort.

“You can’t hurry Brenda Woolley, sir.”

“Two hours on this junk!”

“Hard to hurry her up once they’ve got going.”

“I’ll hurry her up.”

“I wouldn’t advise it, sir.”

“Oh wouldn’t you? There are people out there who need our help.”

“Yes sir.”

“How long are they going to be?”

“Shouldn’t be long now.”

What kind of a reply was that?
Shouldn’t be long
. Fucking Brits. Rogers walked away angrily. Mitchell smiled. Welcome to the
Diana
, he thought.

An outrageously camp young man in a headset was walking around talking animatedly to someone. He clicked his set off and walked forward to Brenda.

“Ready now, Brenda love. Sorry for all the delay.” She turned a gracious smile on the poor worm. She loved people apologizing.

“That’s all right, Terry, people have to do their jobs.”

Quelle bitch, thought Terry as he smiled nicely at her and showed her his new teeth.

“Take her up, Bob, and don’t drop her.”

The man in control of the gantry swung her up and off the deck. The movement startled the old man beside her. He looked around blankly as if unsure what he was doing there. Brenda ignored him and found a place on the small platform out of the light. She prepared for her entrance.

“All right, quiet everybody, we’re going for a take in five, four, three, two, one,” and he waved a finger firmly at the diva.

Brenda Woolley stepped forward into the spotlight.

“Hello. I’m Brenda Woolley.” She paused for a moment so they could edit in applause. “And this is my Concert for the Refugees.” A fanfare for the common man echoed round, and laser beams filled the sky with crazy patterns. The
Iceman
suddenly lit up behind her. It was carefully positioned to look like a huge wreck. She looked at it and then generously indicated the old man in the blanket by her side. Once again she waited for the applause (which would be huge) to die down. She nodded thoughtfully and thankfully to acknowledge the delight with which she had been greeted.

“And now I’d like to sing for you.”

The gantry swung her dramatically across the scene, but before they could cue the music, the sky was suddenly lit by a huge explosion.

“What the hell was that?” said Rogers.

“Oh God,” said Mitchell, “it must be the
Johnnie Ray
.”

How long is a piece of string theory?

—
Lewis Muscroft

The inhabitants of the Evac had clung to the illusion that all would be well, that somehow Carlton would successfully debug the ship and presently would signal them they could all return home. They had no idea he was frozen to the side of their escape capsule. When the Evac finally stopped tumbling, they looked back in horror at the
Ray
disappearing into the darkness behind them.

“You okay in there?” yelled Lewis.

“Shaken but not stirred,” said Alex.

Tay began to wail.

“It’s okay,” said Lewis, holding her tight. “We’re all safe.”

“We’re not all safe,” she sobbed. “Where’s Carlton, Daddy?”

“I’m on it,” he said, punching buttons, but for some weird reason all the circuits on the
Ray
were busy.

“That’s odd,” he said. “Why’s he not responding?”

Alex was looking at the
Ray
through binoculars.

“See anything?” asked Katy, her arms round him, naked. He leaned back into her and handed her the glasses. She fiddled with the glasses for a while. He could feel her breasts against his back. He could breathe her hair. He closed his eyes.

“Oh my God,” said Katy.

“What?”

“Smoke,” she yelled. “There’s smoke on the
Ray
.”

They stared at their spacecraft. The
Johnnie Ray
, their home, their pride and joy.

“I don’t see it,” yelled Lewis from next door.

“There it is,” said Alex.

The tiniest puff of smoke. A whisk, a trace, and then as they watched, the whole thing suddenly exploded. One minute it was there; the next, a million pieces of debris hurtling into space. Alex gasped in disbelief as the pool became instant ice crystals. Lewis groaned. Tay wept.

The fireball was huge. After a few seconds the shock wave bumped them.

“Oh my God,” said Lewis.

“Well, there goes the mortgage,” said Alex.

On the
Princess Diana
Brenda Woolley must have been the only one who didn’t see the explosion. From her viewpoint the whole place suddenly went crazy. One minute she was the center of attention in her bright white spotlight; the next, people began running in all directions, alarm bells ringing. Her mike went dead and they pulled the plugs on the lighting rig, plunging her into dreadful darkness. She was left standing alone fifty feet off the ground with a dead microphone and a doddery old man for company.

“What’s going on?” she yelled, but everyone ignored her.

Emergency boat crews appeared below her, the men in their distinctive orange helmets. She saw her husband rushing forward, his face deathly pale. She thought for a second he was coming to rescue her, but he raced off, shouting instructions and clapping his hands. In those few minutes of hell the whole world turned its attention away from Brenda. She was shocked. For a moment she was helpless. Out of control. This was how it would be if she were dead.

When a technician finally came to help her down, she was shaking. He gave her an odd look. “You all right there?”

She nodded, as if ashamed to have been caught out of control of herself.

“What happened?” she said. “They think the
Johnnie Ray
exploded.”

“Oh.”

She became vaguely aware of something. “That girl was on it.”

“Katy Wallace.”

“Yes.”

So that was why Emil was so upset.

“Oh, how awful,” she said, and then brightened. “Is the press here?” she asked.

Groups of people huddled round the screens, replaying the event the cameras had fortuitously captured.

“It’s the
Ray
all right.”

“See. Whoa. There it goes.”

The awesome impression an explosion makes on us, as if in recognition that we live in the middle of one.

“Dinner break, everyone. Take five.” Five bloody hours, thought Terry. We’ll never get this fucking shot in.

The boat deck was hurriedly cleared. Brenda’s gantry swung away. Her bright lights wheeled away by large men.

“Terry, we might need those,” she said.

“Brenda love, why don’t you join your husband over there where you won’t be in the way.”

Brenda
in the way
. Oh horror.

She wandered over to Emil where he gazed distractedly out into space. He didn’t seem to notice her. She wondered how best to express how offended she felt. Perhaps this wasn’t the moment. He wouldn’t understand. He wasn’t really in show biz. She took his hand. He looked at her uncomprehendingly. She saw the bleakness on his face.

“Emil darling,” she said, “what is going on?” One of the boatmen raced over to Keppler. “Ready to launch, sir.”

“Go man! Now!”

The boat crews scrambled. They heard the slight pop as the emergency bays slid open, and then after a few seconds they saw the white tracer line trailing the lifeboats as they headed out into the inky blackness.

The old man had followed her over, as if he knew nothing else but to stand next to Brenda Woolley. Keppler, eyes drawn, pale, stood at the rail, gazing out into the darkness, watching the lifeboats shoot away. Willing them to find something. Someone.

“That girl was on the ship,” said Brenda after a while.

He nodded.

“You seemed very fond of her.”

He didn’t bother to deny it.

“What was her name?” persisted Brenda.

“Good heavens, woman, if you can’t be helpful, can’t you at least be quiet?”

She looked stung. As if he had hit her. He caught himself. Pulled himself together.

“I’m sorry. Forgive me, Brenda. Her name is Katy Wallace, and yes I am, as you say, fond of her.”

At the name the old man looked up sharply.

“Poor Emil. You’re upset.”

The old man tugged at Brenda’s sleeve. She turned round and registered his presence with a frown.

“Quit following me,” she said irritably, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

The old man wandered off a short way and stared out into the blackness.

“Katy Wallace,” he said.

They watched the explosion repeating on the screens in slow motion. Keppler’s face was blank. A mask.

“It’s huge,” she said. “I don’t see how anything could have survived that.”

He said nothing. Just gazed out where the lifeboats had gone.

“Well, good luck,” said Brenda, and turned away. She felt unaccountably miffed.

“Katy Wallace, Katy Wallace, Katy Wallace,” the old man chanted.

Brenda looked away in irritation. Suddenly there were shouts from the upper deck. People pointing fingers at the screens. They could see a tiny dot.

“Someone got away.”

“Looks like an Evac.”

She watched Emil race away from her, yelling. They turned on the emergency beam, a homing pigeon. The Evac responded automatically as it was programmed to do. They could all see it now on screen as it altered course and swung towards them.

“We’re locked,” said Mitchell. “Reel ’em in.”

It was only a tiny lifeboat and hard at first to pick up, a blip moving faintly against the background of the star field, but soon everyone could see the approaching Evac. It grew from a tiny dot into a shape, and then into an evacuation craft with full emergency lights blazing. There was excitement and even some cheers. Then they fell silent, for now they could plainly see from the TV screens, something was clinging to the side of the ship.

“Looks like they’ve got a tin man on the side,” said Mitchell, gazing through binoculars.

“All right, everybody, let’s get ready to bring them in.”

As it approached, the craft seemed even smaller, dwarfed by the enormous size of the
Diana
. Word had spread and passengers lined the windows on every level, gawking at this real-life drama. Many more watched the live relay on screens in bars and rooms and restaurants throughout the vast cruiser.

“Better get some clothes on, Alex,” Katy giggled. “There’s quite a reception committee.”

She was staring through the porthole. They were both still naked. He watched her in sheer delight as she slipped into her clothes. Her limbs were glorious. She tumbled around in the gravity-free conditions, wriggling into her panties.

“Come on,” she said. “Unless you want to be like that on the news.”

She slipped her hand over him, felt him.

“Oh-oh,” she said, as he responded, “it’s waking up.”

“Katy, stop it, I gotta get my pants on,” he said and then yelled, “Give us some gravity, please, Lewis.”

Her hand was still on him. In a minute it would be too late to be sensible. He could feel his brain emptying of blood.

“Katy,” he said, breaking away from her. “Please.”

“Uhm,” she said, licking her lips. “I’m peckish.”

“No,” he said as she lowered her head, “that is not fair.”

He could see the decks of the
Diana
real close now.

“Stop,” he said, “they’re looking.” He pushed her off him. “Shit, where are my pants?”

He leaned over the edge of the bed as next door Lewis flipped the gravity switch. The immediate return of gravity was dramatic. Alex fell straight off the bed onto his head. His legs followed him over and his feet slammed into the wall.

“Ouch,” he said.

“Gravity’s on,” yelled Lewis.

“Thanks,” said Alex. “Nice timing.”

“It’s the secret of comedy,” he heard Lewis yell back.

He was upside down with his butt in the air.

“Great view,” said Katy.

“If you’re a proctologist,” said Alex, fighting to regain control over his body. He snatched his clothes and began writhing on the floor in panic. His pants seemed to have taken on a life of their own.

“Here, let me help you.” Katy reached down and grabbed a hunk of him.

“No, stop it.” He giggled helplessly as she tickled him. “No, stop, please.” He was like a tiny baby, completely helpless. He wriggled on the floor, giggling.

“What’s going on in there?” yelled Lewis.

“She’s tickling me,” said Alex through clenched teeth.

Lewis shook his head.

“They’re always playing,” said Tay.

Katy finally relented and let him go. She turned her back and looked out of the porthole again. As they slid underneath the huge hull, she caught a glimpse of Keppler’s face, looking anxiously towards them. Alex squeezed into the porthole alongside her.

“Katy,” he said, suddenly serious, “can we talk?”

“No, Alex,” she said, “not now. Don’t spoil it.”

“What happens?” he said simply.

“We get out of this tiny, wonderful room, and we get on with our lives.”

“Is it over?”

She leaned into him and pulled his hand to her.

“Does it feel like it’s all over,” she said. “I’m all wet.” She licked his ear and nibbled his lobe. “I can’t wait to get you in bed again.”

“Stop that,” he grinned. “I can’t walk out of here with a boner.”

Tay was anxiously scanning the crowd as they drew alongside. People were waving and yelling. She waved back vigorously. The hatch door was unscrewed. Then they heard the cheering. Tay popped her head out.

“Oh Daddy,” she said. “Look. It’s Carlton. He’s safe.”

But he didn’t look very safe, clamped and frozen to the side of the Evac. Tay waved, but he made no response.