Uranus

by Ben Bova

  “But it would only be this one time,” she coaxed. “And just for a quick visit. Couldn’t you bend the rules a little? For me?”

  O’Donnell was still shaking his head. But he said, “I could lose my job. If anything happened…” His voice trailed off.

  Raven decided to play her trump card. “I’d be ever so grateful to you, Quincy. Really grateful.”

  His head shaking stopped. From across their narrow table he stared down at her. In a tone that was almost pleading, he insisted, “The regulations are for your own safety, Raven.”

  “But you’d be there to protect me.”

  “Yes … but…”

  “Afterward we could have dinner together. In my quarters.”

  He swallowed visibly. “Dinner.”

  “Just the two of us.”

  “The two of us.”

  “I’d really be grateful, Quincy.”

  She could see the wheels turning behind his deep blue eyes. “Well,” he muttered, “you are the assistant to Mr. Waxman, after all.”

  “That’s right,” she agreed. “I could write up a work assignment or something, so your responsibility would be covered.”

  “That you could,” O’Donnell agreed.

  * * *

  For the first time in her life, Raven felt like a conspirator. Hell, she told herself, I am a conspirator. Quincy O’Donnell looked uneasy when, two days later, he took her down to the station where the suits for extravehicular activity were stored. They walked slowly, carefully, past the rows of empty suits hanging in storage, seeking one small enough to fit Raven properly.

  O’Donnell insisted on having her walk through all the safety procedures with a pair of technicians who trained people for work outside the habitat’s sheltering walls. Then she went through a standard test in one of the habitat’s docking centers, working in the suit carefully, slowly, inside an exercise chamber pumped down to vacuum.

  She had to do her training exercises on her own time, during lunch hours or after full days of working with Waxman. She didn’t want Evan to know what she was up to, of course. He seemed to have no inkling. Waxman worked with Raven as usual, and spent his nights rotating through his harem.

  Good, thought Raven. Keep yourself busy, Evan. Still, she did her best to keep him happy on the nights when he crooked his finger at her.

  EVA

  Raven stood nervously by the airlock hatch, decked in a nanofabric space suit and glassteel helmet. Quincy O’Donnell loomed next to her, dwarfing her diminutive figure. Like her, O’Donnell was enclosed in a semitransparent nanofabric EVA outfit. Somehow it made him look even bigger and lumpier than normal.

  It was well past the dinner hour. The exit chamber was otherwise empty except for a pair of technicians, one male and one female, sitting at the control consoles on the balcony that ran high above the metal-walled chamber.

  “Ready for extravehicular activity?” sounded in Raven’s helmet earphones.

  She heard O’Donnell reply, “Ready.”

  The hatch before them swung open ponderously. Beyond it was the airlock chamber, bathed in lurid red light, looking dark and dangerous.

  O’Donnell’s voice croaked, “Raven, switch to freak two.”

  She lifted her left arm and pressed the button for frequency two. Now she and Quincy could speak to one another without anyone else hearing them.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Quincy’s voice sounded worried in her helmet earphones.

  With a courage she did not truly feel, Raven nodded inside her helmet and answered, “I’m ready.”

  “All right then.” He gestured toward the open airlock chamber. “Ladies first.”

  Her insides fluttering, Raven stepped carefully over the hatch’s coaming and into the airlock’s interior. O’Donnell clumped in behind her and the heavy hatch swung slowly closed.

  The airlock was surprisingly large, big enough to handle a half-dozen people in space suits or even sizable pieces of equipment.

  “Alone at last,” O’Donnell quipped. Raven smiled at him, then realized he couldn’t see it through her helmet’s visor in the chamber’s dim lighting.

  “Ready for depressurization?” she heard the female monitoring technician ask.

  “Ready,” said O’Donnell.

  A clattering sound penetrated the insulation of Raven’s helmet. She saw a trio of lights on the chamber wall next to the outer hatch: green, amber and red. The green light winked out and the amber turned on. The clattering noise seemed to dwindle, grow fainter.

  After several moments, Raven couldn’t hear the sound at all, although she still felt its vibration through the thick soles of the boots she was wearing.

  Her mouth felt dry. She remembered from her training sessions that there was a water nipple just beneath her helmet’s visor, but she couldn’t locate it without her hands to search for it.

  At last the vibration dwindled into silence.

  “Here we go,” Quincy said.

  The amber light went dark and the red one turned on. Vacuum, Raven thought. We’re in vacuum now.

  Even as she thought that, the outer hatch began to swing open. And beyond it was the universe.

  Raven’s mouth dropped open. She gaped at countless swarms of stars hanging unblinking against the utter blackness of space. On the rocket journey from Earth, she and the other passengers had been seated in a windowless compartment. There were video screens on the seatbacks in front of each passenger, of course, but they didn’t give a hint of the sheer magnitude of the vast universe outside.

  Now Raven saw it all, stars and nebulae hanging there as far as she could see, blazing magnificently. Off to one side curved the bare-boned skeleton of what would one day be Haven II. But it was the splendor of the stars that mesmerized her. They weren’t twinkling. They hung out there staring at her, as if they were judging her, deciding if she were fit to be in their company.

  O’Donnell broke the spell. He reached for the clip at the end of her safety tether and pulled it out from its housing. No noise. Not a sound. Just the slightest tremor of a silent vibration.

  “I’ll attach this to the cleat outside the hatch,” she heard O’Donnell saying. “Wouldn’t want you to go floatin’ off to infinity now.”

  Raven nodded wordlessly, still staring in awe at the stars.

  O’Donnell went to the edge of the hatch, attached Raven’s safety line and then his own to the cleat on the station’s skin out there, then turned back toward Raven.

  With a stiff little bow, he said, “The universe awaits, my dear.”

  Raven stepped carefully to the rim of the hatch and then, after taking a deep breath, she pushed through into emptiness.

  She knew that she wouldn’t be truly in zero gravity as long as she was connected to the rotating space station. Still, as she floated away from the habitat’s structure she felt her stomach fluttering and her throat constricting.

  Then she heard O’Donnell’s voice: “Oh Lord, I love the beauty of Thy house, and the place where Thy glory dwelleth.”

  Turning in mid-emptiness, Raven asked, “What was that, Quincy?”

  She could hear the embarrassment in his voice. “Oh, it’s nothin’. Just … ah, just a little somethin’ I say whenever I go outside. It’s from the Twenty-fifth Psalm.”

  “It’s beautiful,” said Raven.

  He floated up behind her and grasped both her shoulders. “There’s nothin’ like it. The universe. God’s creation.”

  “It certainly is magnificent,” Raven agreed, staring at the wonder and glory of the stars.

  He turned her to face the unfinished skeleton of what would become Haven II.

  “That’s where I work,” he said, with real pride in his voice. “Me and a handful of robots.”

  For almost a half hour Raven hung there nearly weightless while O’Donnell pointed out the intricacies of the structure that was being built. The bare metal assembly formed a complete circle, exactly the same size as Haven itself, but it was
only a skeleton, empty, incomplete. Halfway across its diameter Raven caught the flashes of welding tools as a team of robots worked steadily, tirelessly.

  Pointing, O’Donnell told her, “That’s goin’ to be the main reception area for newbies, same as we have here on the original Haven. And there”—his gloved hand shifted—“will be the command and control center. Lots of electronic gadgetry will go in there. And we’ll connect the new module to the original down there, at their hubs.”

  Raven nodded and smiled in the right places, knowing that Quincy couldn’t see it through the tinting of her helmet visor but feeling that he needed some reward for this unauthorized visit.

  At last she said, “Oh! While we’re out here, can I make a call to Earth?”

  “From here?” O’Donnell asked. “Why not from inside?”

  “It’s more private outside here, isn’t it?”

  Sounding puzzled, O’Donnell answered, “I suppose so.”

  “It’s for Reverend Umber,” she stretched the truth. “I’ve been so busy with you lately, I haven’t had the time to do this for him.”

  O’Donnell’s tone sounded wary, skeptical, but he said, “I suppose it’ll be okay.”

  Raven touched her helmet to his and gave him an awkward nuzzle. “Thanks, Quincy!”

  He sputtered and floated slightly away from her.

  Raven had memorized the number of the Interplanetary Council’s executive director, Harvey Millard. She switched to her suit’s private line, then spoke the string of numbers into her helmet microphone.

  “I’m calling on behalf of the Reverend Kyle Umber, the head of the Haven habitat in orbit around the planet Uranus. Reverend Umber would like to request that the Interplanetary Council consider allowing habitat Haven to join the Council. He awaits your reply.”

  There, she thought. It’s done. The message is on its way. She knew it would take some two and a half hours for her message to reach Earth, and the same amount of time for Earth’s reply to get back to the habitat.

  She remembered something a Vietnamese businessman had told her, one night long ago as he was slowly removing her clothing: Even the longest journey begins with a single step.

  I’ve taken the first step, Raven said to herself.

  COMMUNICATIONS FAILURE

  After their little extravehicular sojourn, Raven and O’Donnell returned to the habitat and wormed out of their nanofabric space suits, then made their way to her quarters. She put together sandwiches for the two of them while O’Donnell busied himself pouring wine from the kitchen’s scant supply of bottles.

  At last they moved to Raven’s bedroom. O’Donnell seemed flustered at first, eager yet somehow at the same time hesitant—not reluctant, but unsure of himself.

  “Raven,” he breathed as she unbuttoned his shirt, “you don’t have to do this, you know.”

  She looked up into his flushed face. “You don’t want to?” she asked, all innocence and disappointment.

  “I want to!” he exclaimed. “But … well … maybe we shouldn’t…” His face was an image of conflict.

  Raven stood on tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Well, why don’t we just get into bed together and see what happens.”

  “Okay … I guess…”

  Raven watched him watching her as she stripped. Then she pulled down the covers and slipped into bed, with him still there, gawking.

  She patted the sheet next to her. “Come on, Quincy.”

  Red-faced with inner conflict, O’Donnell peeled down to his skivvies and walked around to the other side of the bed. Even with his undershorts still on, she could see that he was erect.

  He’s a virgin! Raven realized. He’s never done this before.

  O’Donnell climbed into bed beside her. The mattress sagged noticeably.

  “I don’t…,” he began.

  Raven shushed him softly as she put a hand on his chest and then slowly slid it down to his groin. He made a sound halfway between a sigh and a moan.

  “It’s all right, Quincy,” she whispered to him. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  * * *

  When she awoke the next morning O’Donnell was gone. His side of the bed was a jumble of twisted sweaty sheets; even his pillow was shorn of its casing. Raven sat up in bed, then got to her feet, pulled a robe out of the closet and padded into the kitchen as she cinched it around her waist.

  Quincy was nowhere in sight. But he’d left a sheet of tablet paper on the kitchen table.

  I LOVE YOU, was scrawled in block letters across the paper.

  Raven sank onto the kitchen chair and fought back tears.

  * * *

  She was a few minutes late arriving at her office. It had somehow taken Raven longer than usual to shower, dress, and gobble a breakfast bun.

  Her desktop screen bore a command. SEE ME AS SOON AS YOU GET IN. EVAN.

  Alicia Polanyi was not at her desk as Raven entered Waxman’s outer office. Good, she said to herself. Polanyi’s silent, accusatory stares distressed Raven.

  Waxman was at his desk, speaking through his computer screen to one of the engineers. He waved her to the padded chair in front of the desk without missing a syllable of his ongoing discussion.

  Raven sat and tuned out Waxman’s voice. Quincy’s going to be a problem, she told herself. One night in bed and he thinks he’s in love. Probably wants to marry me. She almost smiled at the thought. But she realized, I’m going to have to handle him carefully. Let him down gently.

  Waxman ended his phone discussion, cleared his desktop screen, turned and smiled at Raven.

  “And how are you this fine morning?” he asked, his smile showing teeth.

  “I’m fine,” Raven said. “And you?”

  Waxman pursed his lips, then answered, “I’ve got a bit of a problem, Raven.”

  “Oh?”

  “That call you put through to the IC.”

  Raven felt her entire body stiffen.

  Calmly, still smiling, Waxman went on, “I don’t allow calls to the Interplanetary Council for a reason, Raven. I control all communications with Earth. I and I alone.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know.”

  “Whether you did or not is immaterial.”

  Raven stared at him. The man was still smiling, yet his expression made her shudder.

  “Your call came to me. It never was sent to Earth.”

  “I see.”

  “No, you don’t see,” said Waxman. “But you will. You and your oaf of a boyfriend.”

  “Quincy’s not my boyfriend!”

  “Perhaps not,” Waxman said, his smile turning dangerous. “But he’s going to be.”

  PUNISHMENT

  Trying to keep her breathing under control, Raven asked, “What do you mean?”

  Waxman leaned back in his desk chair, his eyes never leaving Raven’s face.

  “You tried to go around me, Raven. You tried to make contact between Umber and the Interplanetary Council.”

  “I…”

  “Don’t bother denying it.” Waxman leaned forward in his chair, placed both his forearms on his desktop. “I can’t trust you, Raven. But I can punish you. You and the lummox who helped you.”

  Raven heard herself protest, “Don’t blame Quincy! He didn’t know what I was doing. He had no idea.”

  “He’s got to learn to be more careful. And you have to learn to be more grateful to me.”

  “I am, Evan. I’m very grateful. For everything you’ve done—”

  “You’ve betrayed me, Raven. After all I’ve done for you.” Waxman shook his head sadly. “I can’t let that betrayal go unpunished. You’ve got to learn to be obedient.”

  “Wh … what do you mean?”

  “You’re going back to your old life, Raven. Once a whore always a whore. But this time you’ll be working for me.”

  Raven blinked at him. “I don’t understand…”

  “How could you?” Waxman’s smile turned malicious, nasty.

  He pulled open
a desk drawer and took out a thin vial containing a reddish dust.

  “You were curious about Rust, weren’t you?” He held the vial between two fingers and shook it slightly. “Well, this is what the stuff looks like. You notice the vial is half empty? The other half is floating in the air of this office. You’ve been breathing it since you walked in here.”

  Raven’s eyes went wide. That’s why Alicia wasn’t at her desk! she thought. But Evan’s sitting there, breathing in the Rust, and he’s—

  Reading the expression on her face, Waxman said, “I’m wearing nose filters, Raven. But you’re not.”

  Raven’s immediate thought was to get out of this office, this trap that Evan had set for her. She tried to push herself out of the chair, but her legs wouldn’t support her. Then she saw that Waxman’s desk was dissolving, its side softening, liquefying, dripping onto the carpeting like the wax of a melting candle.

  With a malicious smile Waxman said, “I can see that the Rust is taking effect. Good.”

  Raven watched as Waxman’s desk faded away. Still seated in his chair, he too began to melt and stretch out into a long multicolored ribbon.

  “Enjoy your trip, Raven.” Waxman’s voice boomed in her ears as she felt herself dissolving, liquefying, sliding into another dimension.

  She couldn’t move, couldn’t even blink her eyes. She stared as the world around her coalesced into a kaleidoscope of vivid, pulsing colors.

  Raven was floating, rocking gently on a sea of surging colors. She felt hands on her body, stripping her, groping her, pawing her, and all she could think was More! More! Time was stretching like taffy. She lost all awareness of who she was, what she was, all lost in the overwhelming sensations of being stroked, touched, caressed.

  The first lash of the whip made her scream, but the only words she heard were “More! More!”

  Floating on a sea of frenzy, she writhed and twisted, but strong, powerful hands held her as Waxman’s voice boomed like the trumpet of a god, “You’re a whore, Raven. That’s all you’ve ever been and all you’ll ever be.”