Dark as Day

by Charles Sheffield

  Jan said, “You go ahead by yourself. I’ll eat later.”

  He nodded and sat up. “So I’ll go eat now,” he said, and happily drifted out and away along the corridor. On his own, Jan noted, with no need at all for direction or assistance. She went next door to lie on her own bed. She needed an hour or two alone, to work some of the smiles out of her system.

  * * *

  Apparently she failed. There must have been plenty of smiles left. When she went to dinner, three hours later, Paul Marr was in the passenger dining room for the first time. He was assigned to eat with a different group, so he did no more than glance at Jan as he passed and say quietly, “I wish people would do something for me to make me grin like that.”

  Dinner itself was a curious disappointment. The person she wanted to talk to was one table over, making polite and impartial conversation with the five passengers who sat with him. Jan noted that his white uniform was as spotless and well-pressed as ever, and this time his hands and nails were scrubbed free of every trace of working grime. He occasionally glanced her way, but not enough so that others would notice.

  Jan’s own table partners were a mixed bag. Four of them, a man, woman, and their two children, had just flown up from Mars and in their new micro-gravity setting they at the moment felt like eating little or nothing. Then there were two wannabe miners who had been office workers back on Earth. Jan had eaten with them several times before and quite liked them, though they talked mainly about their bright future in the rough-and-tumble cowboy society on Callisto. Jan eyed their delicate hands and pudgy bodies and hoped they wouldn’t be disappointed.

  And then there was Judd O’Donnell, a loud oaf who seemed to seek Jan out and whom she avoided whenever possible. As usual, he insisted on sitting next to her. Tonight his main contribution to the conversation came when fish was served as the first course. One of the would-be miners said how good it was, so tasty it might have been flown up fresh from Mars. The Mars family stared at him in disbelief, but remained silent.

  Judd O’Donnell said, “Hey, how can you tell if the fish you’re eating was caught in Marslake?” And, when no one answered, “You turn the lights off, and see if it glows in the dark.”

  He laughed loudly. The man in the group from Mars winced, while the woman made a gesture to her children to keep quiet. Radioactivity levels on Mars were still high thirty years after the end of the war, especially in bodies of water. Mutations were common. A strict eugenics program culled the human and animal populations, and most families had relatives among the victims.

  That set the tone for the rest of the dinner. When she came in, Jan had been feeling on top of the universe. By the time people were dispersing she couldn’t wait to get away. But she stayed, enduring O’Donnell’s attempts at wit and waiting for Paul Marr to get up and leave.

  Finally she couldn’t take any more. She stood up in the middle of a Judd O’Donnell story and left the dining room. Before the door could slide closed behind her, it was opening again for someone else.

  “Phew.” It was Paul Marr. “That fat man at our table, talking about how he was going to transform Outer System economics … I thought you were never going to leave.”

  That was direct enough. Jan could play coy, but what the hell. “I felt the same about you. I thought you must be having a fascinating time while I sat and suffered. You got economics, I had tasteless jokes.”

  Other passengers were still leaving the dining room or drifting along the corridor. Paul Marr remained a meter and more away from Jan, and his voice was soft and casual when he said, “We’ve had enough economics and jokes for one night, and it’s too crowded here to talk at all privately. Can I interest you in a quiet drink back in my quarters?”

  “I think so.” Jan tried to sound as relaxed as Paul. “Do you want to go on ahead?”

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary. No harm in a passenger wanting to take a look at the engine room, is there? By the way, the inspection of the Omnivores went as smooth as you could ask. We’ll be on our way in less than twenty-four hours.”

  To the men and women they were passing, the conversation must sound routine if not actually boring. No one had a monitor to read Jan’s pulse rate, or to measure the fine tremble in her hands. One more turn, and the end of the passenger quarters would be in sight. If she was thinking of changing her mind, better do it now.

  They came to the lettered bulkhead. Paul slid the hatch open and ushered Jan through. Instead of heading aft down the corridor with its bilious green paint, Paul made a sharp left turn. At the second door along he paused. “It’s not up to the captain’s quarters, but it’s home to me. Welcome.”

  Jan found herself in a room maybe twice the size of hers. It had been furnished with a surprising delicacy of taste. The chairs were light and frail in appearance, suitable for a ship where acceleration would rarely exceed half a gee, but their lines were elegant. The walls had been finished in a pastel pink (which Jan actually didn’t much care for) and two of them bore half a dozen paintings which she suspected were originals. That was confirmed when she saw a neat P. Marudini in the lower right corner. She glanced at him, and he shrugged. “I was young when I started to paint. I thought Marudini sounded a bit more like an artist. Now it’s too late to change.”

  He was over by a small table in one corner, opening two conical bottles each of which wore a misting of condensation. Next to them was a vase of roses. The lighting level in the room was dimmer than in the rest of the ship.

  Jan said, half question and half statement, “You were expecting that I would come here with you.”

  He coughed. “Well, no. Let’s say that before dinner I was hoping. But then I learned that we were at different tables and I couldn’t do anything to change that, so we wouldn’t have much chance to talk. I’m sorry. I must have seemed a bit abrupt.”

  “I didn’t think so.” Jan accepted one of the bottles. She had learned to drink in micro-gravity, but a delicate trial sip was beyond her. She squeezed too much into her mouth and had to swallow hard.

  “All right?” Paul asked.

  “Just choking. The wine is very good. Like an Earth wine.”

  “As it should be. It was made in southern Chile—not too far from where you lived.”

  So he knew where she had come from on Earth. Paul had done his homework.

  “The roses, too?”

  He nodded. “From Punta Arenas. Flower city.” He took a sip from his own squeeze bottle, savoring the aftertaste and looking thoughtful. “I guess everything went well with Dr. Bloom?”

  “You spoke with her?”

  “No. I saw your face. You were the cat that got the parakeet.”

  “That would have been difficult on board the Achilles.”

  “Quite right.” He took a bigger mouthful. “No pets allowed.”

  “Like passengers beyond the bulkhead.”

  The conversation was casual, but underneath it ran a strong current of sexual tension. Jan noticed that there was no bed in the room. What would happen if things developed as she expected? Fun and games in free-fall? She felt nervous but determined.

  “But you never answered my question,” Paul went on. “Did everything work out as you hoped with Dr. Bloom? You know, it’s quite unusual for her to want a second meeting with someone after they leave Earth orbit.”

  “Things went very well.” Jan wondered how to phrase it. “I was really worried beforehand, but I had no reason to be. That’s why I feel so good. It’s as though I just gave birth.”

  “Gave birth? To what?”

  “To who. To a thirty-five-year-old. All my life I’ve been looking after Sebastian and making decisions for him. Dr. Bloom told me to stop. It will be hard, but I have to take her advice. For his sake.”

  Paul lowered his head and did not look at her. “I wouldn’t normally say this to any passenger, but I feel close to you and you need to know. There’s a lot of talk aboard about Sebastian Birch. For one thing, people say he’s eith
er retarded or has serious mental problems.”

  “I know. Neither one is true. Sebastian is strange, but Dr. Bloom says that he has talents she has never encountered before. She wants to spend a lot of time with him. And she wants me to spend less.”

  “That’s what you meant by giving birth. You had me worried for a second.”

  He was inviting her to ask why. Instead, Jan held the conical bottle out toward Paul and squeezed it. “All gone. I’ve been gulping too fast, but sipping is difficult.”

  “Would you like more?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, then.” He released his own bottle, leaving it suspended in midair. After a few moments of hesitation, during which Jan felt that she herself was in total suspension, he moved to her side and put his arms around her. His first kiss seemed tentative. Jan responded much more forcefully, and when they came up for air he said, “First time in micro-gravity?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s a bit different. Just follow my lead.” Between kisses he began to remove her clothes, slowly and carefully. She did the same for him, glancing occasionally about her. She still saw no sign of a bed.

  “Not needed in free-fall,” he said, in answer to her unspoken question. “If we were in powered flight I would make a section of the floor turn into a waterbed. At the moment all we need are these.” He drifted up to the ceiling. They were both naked, and as he rose past her Jan saw plenty of evidence of his excitement.

  He returned holding two broad straps and laughed at the expression on her face. “Not for what you may be thinking. Maybe some other time, but these are to stop us drifting off into the walls.” He bent and attached one to each of his ankles.

  “What about me?” said Jan.

  “You’ll see.” Paul straightened and embraced her again. They kissed and fondled each other for a few minutes, until Paul sighed, took his hands from Jan’s breasts, and reached around to grasp the back of her thighs.

  “I know this won’t sound very romantic,” he said, “but I have to get it out of the way. Newton’s Third Law is more noticeable in space than it is on Earth. If we’re to stay in contact, you need to put your legs round mine and lock them there. That’s right. That’s fine. Just let me do the work.”

  “I will.” And just don’t let me do something stupid. Jan closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his.

  After a long minute when things didn’t seem to be working, Paul at last found the right position. The lower parts of their bodies came into full contact and he grunted with satisfaction. They made love in silence for a long time, until Paul gasped, grunted, and thrust so hard that Jan’s legs had trouble holding him in position.

  He clung to her, panting and perspiring, while she caressed the back of his head. Finally he leaned back and stared into her eyes.

  “How was it?” Jan asked.

  “Great. Just great.” Paul frowned. “Not so good for you, though. I know you didn’t get there. Sorry, but I couldn’t wait any longer.”

  “That’s all right. I didn’t expect to. Be honest with me. Wasn’t it a bit difficult?”

  “Well, yes. At first it was.”

  “I thought it might be. They say that the first time usually is.”

  “Of course it is.” He smiled. “Zero-gee, the first time in space, all the body movements are different.”

  He saw her expression, and the smile left his face. “When you say the first time, you don’t mean—” Their bodies were still locked together, but he pushed himself away from Jan so that he could stare down at himself. “My God. You do.”

  “It’s all right. There’s only just a few drops on you. A clumsy doctor took care of that during a physical when I was younger. You won’t be hanging bloody sheets outside the ports.”

  Paul moved farther away from Jan, reached down, and released the straps from his ankles. He moved to a wall drawer and pulled out an object like a double sleeping bag. When he and Jan were snugly zipped up inside it he said, “This is quite a shock. You really were a virgin?”

  “Don’t look so surprised. We all start out that way. If you mean, what am I doing, a woman well over thirty and still not sexually experienced, then I don’t have a good answer.”

  “It’s nothing to do with age.” Paul still seemed distressed. “But if I had known …”

  “If you had known, then what? Would you have avoided me?”

  “No!”

  “You didn’t exactly rape me, you know.” Jan pulled him close to her again. “I was as keen for this to happen as you were. More keen, I bet. Is it all right for me to say that?”

  “Of course it is. I’m, well, I guess I feel honored. I mean, that you would choose me to be the first. Why me?”

  “You’re a very attractive man. You seemed interested in me.”

  “I was. I am.”

  “I’ve been thinking about you ever since you greeted us as we came aboard. This seemed appropriate. You are, after all, the first mate.”

  He laughed at her weak joke, but he still looked upset. “Why now, after so many years?”

  “You mean that I’m an antique?”

  “Not at all. You are young and beautiful.”

  “Thank you. I’ll accept that, even if I don’t quite believe it. You ask, why now? It’s all part of a feeling I’ve had ever since we lifted off from Earth. I’ve been exhilarated and excited, full of the conviction that everything was new and different and wonderful.”

  “No thanks to me. Next time, Jan, it will be better. I swear it. I was just too excited tonight.” He frowned. “I hope there will be a next time.”

  “There had better be. Unless you are the original Achilles’ heel. Paul, stop worrying. Tonight was just fine, and everything I’ve ever heard or read about this says it just gets better.” She snuggled close to him. “I’m not asking for an instant repeat performance, so you can go to sleep if you want to. But I would like to be held, and maybe talk a bit if you feel up to it. I want to ask you a question.”

  “Sure.” He pulled her head onto his shoulder and put his lips to her ear. He whispered, “Ask me anything.”

  “Do you pick out a different passenger on each trip?”

  He started and pulled away. “Now Jan, that’s really an unfair question. When I said, ask me anything—”

  “You don’t understand, Paul. I’m hoping that the answer is yes.”

  “Why? What difference does it make?”

  “I’ll rephrase the question, so it doesn’t make you sound like a libertine. Have you had experiences in the past with other women passengers?”

  He hesitated. “Yes, I have. But I still don’t know why you ask. There’s no chance at all of disease.”

  “That thought never entered my head.” Jan nuzzled his neck. “I just like to feel that my needs are being attended to by someone with experience and expertise. I’m well aware that I don’t have those myself. I wondered if you would notice when we began to make love.”

  “I had no idea. Everything seemed perfectly normal.”

  “Except for that first minute.”

  “I thought that was more me than you. People are different. There’s always an adjustment to get the geometry right.”

  “The geometry feels just fine.” Jan relaxed against his body. The sleeping bag provided warm intimacy. He had more chest hair than she expected, and she liked the soft tickle of it against her breasts. He also smelled different, a sexual odor which came as an unexpected pleasure. She closed her eyes in contented silence. Maybe she was all set to fall asleep herself, for certainly when he spoke his voice seemed to come from far away.

  “I don’t want to spoil the mood, because this is really pleasant. But I did have something else that I wanted to talk to you about. It may sound pretty ridiculous.”

  Jan said lazily, “You said, ask me anything. So I’ll say, tell me anything.”

  “It’s about Sebastian.”

  It was Jan’s turn to stiffen. “What about him?”
<
br />   “I know that you’ve looked after him almost all his life, and you care for him very much.”

  “Like a brother. There has never been one shred of sexual feeling between us.”

  “Once I had time to see you interact, I never thought there had been. You don’t look at each other that way. And I understand that Dr. Bloom may be the person who has the most contact with him from now on. But because you’ve been so close for so long, you ought to hear this.”

  “Has Sebastian done something?”

  “He has done nothing wrong. He spends lots of time wandering around the ship, staring at things and not saying anything.”

  “That’s harmless enough.”

  “I think so, too. But it has made a few people uneasy, and they are reacting. There’s been a rumor going around that he’s a Jonah. Do you know what a Jonah is for ships in space?”

  “I imagine that it’s the same as it is for ships on the seas of Earth. Someone who brings bad luck.”

  “That’s what they’re saying. Sebastian Birch will bring bad luck to the Achilles.”

  “I never heard such nonsense. Sebastian wouldn’t harm anyone or anything.”

  “I believe you, Jan. But I want you to know the wild talk that’s been going around some of the crew and passengers, so you won’t get a nasty surprise. It’s nothing more than dumb superstition, but they say that with Sebastian Birch on board this ship will never make it to Ganymede. Somewhere along the way, no one knows how or where, the presence of Sebastian will lead the Achilles to disaster.”

  16

  The model … a worrying new insight, burning to be tested.

  A meeting with Prosper and Lena Ligon … top priority, they insist it can’t be put off even for a day.

  Kate Lonaker … cold as Charon, unsympathetic to any attempt at reconciliation, refusing to talk.

  Travel notification … a trip to the Saturn system, with no explanation.

  Alex was going mad. He had never felt himself under such multiple pressures. Somehow he had to impose logic and a set of priorities.