‘Let me see, let me see!’ ordered Buzz as he pushed away the bodies to track the path of the main rocket above them. He needed to ease them into the same orbit but just ahead. The capsule glided past the long rolling tube of the final stage, the black-striped crew quarters and then the detached capsule – which filled and vanished from their window view as he eased them in front. Their orbits were now the same, but a delay was necessary before any further manoeuvres. The red glow of the evening light was creeping over them, giving way to the black shadow of Earth.
Back at mission control, Ford’s satisfaction with the success of events, was tempered by the need to lift the secrecy on the mission. The press were now baying at the gates and the television stations were abuzz with speculation. The likes of the famous science pundit Professor Ryan Prix had already spotted the two re-entry vehicles, and the convenient assumption that the first crew were the chosen ones was wearing thin.
Ford saw himself as a straight-talking guy, and this evasiveness was for the realms of the politician. He was jittery with anticipation when his phone rang again, this time with an image of the White House on the screen.
‘Cease your worrying, Mr Harris. I shall make a statement on the matter tomorrow morning. It shall be my last press conference and it will be nice to go out with a surprise… besides I can bury it in a lot of other stuff and ruminations. Ha! Ha!’ Luther lowered his tone. ‘How are the preparations going? I’d like to get the technical crew away from the scene beforehand.’
Ford ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Pretty darn tense on the way up, sir… er, Luther, but all A-OK now – just need to couple the vehicles up and finish the preparations and then off they go!’
‘Good, I want to give that woman a “fait accompli”. She’s one of the few people who make me nervous.’
Ford laughed nervously. ‘She reminds me of my ma.’
‘Exactly,’ growled the president.
Lake Kariba
Mr Herman put down his sundowner and took in the peace and quiet. He was enjoying a break from the orphanage. Bheki’s extraordinary journey had brought great benefits. Even small donations made a great difference and NASA had given an appreciable amount. It was Mr Herman who had to sign the consent forms and keep the secret. His reward was this small holiday. The dusty drive from the granite landscape of the Matopos Hills to Lake Kariba had been long but uneventful, except for the inevitable police checks.
The crimson sun was setting rapidly into the grey-blue haze. The silhouettes of elephants and half submerged trees shimmered in the pink ripples around them as the sun slowly disappeared and night fell around them. He pondered on the order of the universe and the spinning planet that provided this beauty, as the bitter hints of gin lubricated his thoughts.
Lake Kariba
Zimbabwe – Zambia
16.6S 28.0E
Altitude: 1,591ft
Depth: 318ft
Geology: Hydroelectric reservoir – Zambezi River
As the tender wound its way back to the houseboat he checked his watch. Looking up, he picked out the twin stars floating across the heavens in tight formation. He did his best to find a future for all the children and here was one who had not only reached for the stars, but had joined them.
One hundred miles above him, the two rockets were preparing to dock.
All had been running smoothly far above. After jettisoning the final stage, Soraya guided the return rocket onto the lattice cage. She and Eugene checked the camera with its crosshairs and made the final alignment with one small thrust. It bounced off. ‘Damn it!’ she whispered, and lined up and tried again. The kids could feel the bump and vibrations as the rockets attempted to engage. Three times it happened, rocking them forward each time. They all found it amusing, except Xing. She had recovered from the stress of take-off, only to be overcome by the sadness of missing a final goodbye with her mother. The frustration of it all, each floating around in their tin cans far above the world, but not able to communicate other than via the bleep-bleep of the intercoms.
‘Work the problem,’ extolled Eugene as he gestured to Su-lin to manoeuvre the capsule further down the length of the cage to view the connection at close hand. These couplings were tried and tested, and had never failed before. Worryingly, if they couldn’t dock, the mission could go no further. As they drew alongside, Eugene took a deep breath and inspected the connections through his raised binoculars. The plastic bubble wrap glistened in the sunshine.
‘Goddamn protective packing’s still there. I’m gonna have to sort this one out.’ He reached for his helmet, indicating the others to do the same and prepare for decompression.
‘No, Eugene, if you don’t mind, I’d like to.’ Su-lin tugged his sleeve.
‘No problem, we’ve already had our fun out there.’
Their suits expanded in response to the drop in pressure and Eugene took control as Su-lin and Soraya eased open the door, and Su-lin cast herself into the void. She grasped the outside of the solid rocket booster and worked her way round to the lattice cage. Squeezing through the gap towards the base of the landers, she could now see the problematic packaging.
Assembly in Orbit
Space gloves are not made for dexterity, and it was with some difficulty and a great deal of patience that she managed to prise the compressed and mangled material from the titanium rings of the docking mechanism. Casting it untidily aside, she finally brushed off the surface with her glove. She took a small object from her patch pocket on the suit and attached it on the inner hatch with some of the excess tape she’d just removed.
All finished, she slowly removed herself from the cage and gestured to Eugene that she was going to work herself up the edifice.
Xing was quiet. She was lost in her own thoughts when Mo tugged her shirt. ‘Look out of the window, innit!’
They shifted to make room and there was the golden sheen of a space helmet and a gloved hand pointing to the red flag of the People’s Republic of China on the suit. Xing’s pulse leaped as she realised that her mother had come to say goodbye. They spent a precious minute or two gesturing their love across a vacuum.
Finally, Su-lin stretched her right hand against the outside glass of the window and Xing placed her left in return as if touching a mirror. A small tear worked its track down her cheek. Then, with a wave, Su-lin was gone. Time was pressing, and all that was left was the imprint of a small palm on the condensation which slowly trickled down the glass.
Suddenly, there was a satisfyingly audible click and tremble which shook the whole craft. The children knew then that they had docked. Soraya had eventually done her stuff and all was set. The adult crew could now re-pressurise their capsule and prepare for their fiery descent into the rolling brine of the Pacific Ocean.
‘Listen to him, droning on about his so-called successes. Bunkum!’
Peggy ‘soon-to-be-President’ Tyler was packing her clothes with one ear on the television and shouting comments to ‘soon-to-be-first husband’ Ryan, who was glued to the Pure News channel. She frowned while choosing the perfect blouse to match the bright-green suit she had carefully chosen for the inauguration. Moving house was always exciting, but moving into the White House was thrilling.
‘The first thing I’m going to do is redecorate the Oval Office. It’s far too masculine!’ she called through to the slouching Ryan.
He didn’t answer, fixed to the television, unable to believe his ears. ‘What! That’s reee…diculous. Sheee… it, that’s the stupidest thing ever. Hey, Pegs, you won’t believe what that lunatic’s done…’
‘Ryan, what are you going on about? What could he have done that’s worse than before?’
‘He’s sent a bunch of kids into space!’ Ryan hastily stood up and to his horror spilled his coffee on the immaculate beige sofa. He hurriedly rearranged the cushions to cover his mishap.
Peggy rushed through to see Luther proudly name each of the kids and their nationalities. Judging by the gasps and general murmur
ing, the press were as shocked as Ryan.
‘Well! Ryan, I think the decoration will now be the second thing! I’m going to put paid to all this nonsense.’
Peggy bustled out of the room to get her phone.
Ryan regarded the room and the packing boxes. ‘Maybe we might keep the sofas here after all.’
Chapter 30
In Orbit
As Elin slowly opened the hatch, a waft of compressed air streamed through her weightless hair in a cascade of gold, temporarily blinding a bemused Buzz, who was straining to look over her shoulder. The short tube gave way to a hi-tech cave, which held all the necessaries to survive on the Martian surface and was lined with six small vertical beds. These bright-white quarters would also serve as their dormitory during their long journey to the planet and back. One after another they floated through the tube and jockeyed to claim the best beds, only to find them pre-allocated with their names and flags embroidered, like their overalls, on the fabric.
Rushing to their next task, like the frantic opening of Christmas presents, they released the gauges to pressurise the main working and living quarters.
To enter they had to slip through an even longer connecting tube. The hexagonal plan of the lander allowed for nine fuel cylinders: three for oxygen and six for hydrogen, with just enough space in the middle to accommodate the connecting tube. With a whoosh of air, the last hatch was released.
There, in the torchlight was a small package still taped to the hatch. To Xing’s absolute delight it contained her beloved kimekomi doll.
They all flooded through, tumbling into the dark compartment in a scrum of bodies and limbs. Bheki was the first to reach the controls. He knew this layout like the back of his hand. As he flicked through the switches, banks of lights and buzzers sprang to life. The chattering children spread out like the fingers on an unfurling hand, excitedly rolling and spinning as they enjoyed the spacious living quarters – at least compared with the cramped command capsule.
Slowly settling down, Xing and Buzz joined Bheki, packing away the collapsed water containers and checking everything under the watchful presence of an attentive mission control. They were carefully preparing everything for the grand tour ahead. The unplanned delay in docking had upset all the schedules, and Houston prudently decided to rest the crews before they engaged in the demanding blast out of Earth’s orbit into interplanetary space. After all the extraordinary events of the last day, fatigue enveloped ‘The Other Things’. They snuggled down in their state of excited exhaustion. Even the adult astronauts were allowed a cat nap before preparing for their own descent back to Earth.
Very soon to be ex-President Luther Garvey sat for the last time at his desk of state. Before him were the national newspapers and they all bore similar headlines: ‘What Off Earth Is He Playing At?’, ‘Get the Kids Down’ and ‘Astronomical Mistake’ were just a sample of the negative headlines. The creases on Luther’s brow deepened as he frowned and stroked his chin. The delay in orbit had meant that the mission was yet to cross ‘the line of no return’. The bevy of phones sitting menacingly before him had been buzzing manically and the penultimate call he took that day was from an iridescently irate Peggy ‘due-to-become-president-tomorrow’ Tyler. No word or reasoning from Luther, however short, could be squeezed in edgeways, except a reluctant ‘OK’ when she demanded him back in this very room to face the music in the new president’s first meeting after her inauguration. Luther then called Ford to give him the lowdown, pressing him to expedite matters on the mission as soon as possible. To Luther’s dismay, Ford revealed that he too had been given a royal scolding and told to be present tomorrow.
‘Sounds like “book down the trousers time”, sir,’ Ford joked thinly.
Luther ruefully smiled as he remembered own his father’s discipline. He wished he still had the ragged copy of The Boy’s Book of Wonders, which been so useful in more circumstances than he cared to remember. With a sigh, he surveyed the interior of the Oval Office, the focus of his daily existence for the last eight years. He realised it looked as shabby as he felt at present.
An idle thought came to him. Much as he disliked ‘That Darn Woman’, he grudgingly recognised her as a person of conviction and maybe, just maybe, it was time for change, but hopefully not tomorrow. He shuffled around the carpet, slowly packing each of his portable personal items into his worn leather briefcase. Turning round, he took his last look at the room and the portraits of many great men who had held the privilege of this office. He chuckled out loud when he remembered the joke about Nixon, who had asked the portrait of Abraham Lincoln for advice about what to do in his own darkest hour. It is said that from the bowels of the past came an unearthly voice: ‘Go to the theatre, Dick. Go to the theatre.’
Slowly and carefully he closed the door behind him.
Ford’s stomach churned. All the blood, sweat and tears of the last two years could be wasted. Anxiety surged through him. He had to get moving. Tomorrow was a new dawn and the dark clouds were massing.
‘Wake all the astronauts up,’ ordered Ford. ‘We gotta move our butts! Get the Mars crew ready for the first burn. Then as soon as all’s well, get the maintenance crew down.’
A whirl of activity broke out in the ranks of the technical staff and programmers. This was a crucial stage and they all felt the pressure. Everything had to work perfectly, not just now but for the next two years. Even with a following wind it would take a full day.
The young astronauts had to rehearse their drills. They knew that from now on, communications would get more and more challenging as they headed away from Earth. Their parents and mentors had to take advantage of this opportunity to finesse their partnerships with their little ‘avatars’.
These tyros were still organising and checking the stores when Luther and Ford found themselves waiting in the anteroom outside the Oval Office.
They were as nervous and pensive as defendants before a court hearing, whispering to each other between the long silences. With a slight creak the doors opened and Belle walked in with a slightly sheepish smile to her old boss. ‘President Garvey and Mr Harris, please come through. President Tyler is ready to receive you.’
Ford scanned the room. The new president sat behind the very desk that Luther had greeted him from all those months ago. It felt so different. The place appeared to have shrunk, in all probability because it was so full of grim-faced advisers. There were two chairs, onto which they were ushered. Ford sat down. Luther excused himself and remained standing.
The new president stood up in her immaculate green suit and orange blouse. After minimal pleasantries, she fixed him with a gimlet eye. ‘Mr Harris, pardon me if I cut to the chase. Was all this – sending vulnerable children to their certain death on an inhospitable planet – your idea?’
Ford stood up, cleared his throat and looked around the room with an innocent countenance. ‘It’s quite logical really, ma’am. It’s a scientific choice – the safest and most viable option.’
President Peggy Tyler surveyed the faces in the room with an air of incredulity. ‘Don’t give me science, Mr Harris. I believe in faith and opinion, so please answer my question: was this your idea?’
Ford’s confidence to carry the argument was melting into slush. ‘Er, it was a joint decision…’ he stuttered.
Peggy took a long, deep breath and tapped the leather-topped desk in a slow beat with her right purple-nailed index finger.
‘Whose idea?’ she slowly repeated.
Ford scratched his head and glanced sideways to a stony-faced Luther.
‘Well, I suppose… er… yes, it was one of my initial options! But everyone’s right behind it.’
Peggy sat down in her chair and made an infinitely small gesture towards the back of the room. The phalanx of advisers parted like the Red Sea waters and through the gap emerged a familiar face.
‘Not everyone, Mr Harris. I believe you know Mr Dyer? He resigned over it. Stephen’s been very kind and filled me in on all
the details of this debacle.’
She cleared her throat. ‘This not a time for “blue sky thinking”. I’m afraid I need someone with more conventional ideas. Mr Dyer is taking over your role forthwith.’
There was a heavily pregnant pause while Ford’s bewildered eyes flickered around for inspiration or help. Peggy tapped again on the leather. ‘Must I make it plain to you? Mr Harris… you’re fired! Please use the servant’s door yonder.’
The stunned silence seemed to echo around the curved walls. A sly smile broke on Stephen Dyer’s thin lips. A dumbfounded Ford slowly realised he had been ordered to leave the proceedings and his only comfort was that this time he knew where the door was. There was a murmuring of whispers as he left dewy-eyed in a daze of thoughts and emotions. As he closed the secret door, he paused on the threshold for just long enough to hear Peggy inform Luther, with haughty disdain, that she was cancelling ‘his impossible dream’, as she put it.
It had all been so perfunctory. Ford’s naive hope that he could reason and argue the case had been dashed and replaced by such a dire hollowness that he now operated solely on instinct. He had no plan B or thoughts other than to fly from this place and get back to Houston and tell the team the bad news. He implored the stern-faced driver to rush him to the airport, where his old plane was waiting. He simply had to get there before Stephen Dyer could wreak his mayhem.
Houston
Texas, USA
29.5N 95.2W
Altitude: 80ft
Geology: Gulf coastal plain
There was an agonising wait for a take-off slot while the big jets trundled their course to the main strip and lumbered heavily into the evening’s honeyed skies. The city’s haze of smog and persistent headwinds would not help. Finally airborne as the night took over, Ford followed the freeway lights from one twinkling city spiderweb to another.
By the time he got to Houston, he was exhausted and overcome with the immeasurable sadness of seeing his good works about to be dismantled and cast aside by fools and philistines.
The Other Things Page 36