Marlowe and the Spacewoman

by Ian M. Dudley

  “Almost there,” gasped Nina.

  Me too, thought Marlowe. He laughed at the absurdity of the moment while ordering the nano probes to prevent any embarrassing responses to Nina’s physical proximity. “What do you need me to do?”

  Nina spoke through clenched teeth. “Get ready to grab the platform and climb up. Then pull me up, and we’ll ride this one out together.”

  Via the PDI, Marlowe instructed the nano probes to neutralize the paralysis agents in his arms. The nano probes were rather put out, having just released the agents a few moments earlier, but obeyed. Marlowe gritted his teeth as a tingling sensation started to burn through the suddenly unmedicated appendages. He clasped Nina even tighter.

  “Tell me when.”

  “Almost there. Hang on. I’m almost there.”

  Marlowe waited, thinking about cricketball. That took his mind off the agony in his arms. The tingling had progressed into the distinctly unpleasant sensation of several million needles and spikes jabbing his flesh.

  “OK, I’m there. Get a move on and climb up.”

  Marlowe carefully moved one hand from around Nina, slipping a little bit but compensating by clutching her even tighter with the other arm. His free hand, shaking slightly because of the soapy cargo it carried, moved up her body, letting the contours of her side and then her arm lead him to the platform. He found it and gingerly placed Tray on the nearest level spot, optical sensors pointed outwards. Relieved of his explosive burden, his hand patted around in search of a handhold and grabbed something protruding from the platform. He worked his way up, getting both arms over the top and pulling himself higher. His head cleared the platform, revealing that he’d been holding onto a large bolt securing the anchoring cable to the building below. He moved his feet onto Nina’s shoulders and pushed and pulled himself onto the platform. Then he turned around and extended a hand to Nina. She released one hand from the cable, grabbed his, and then pulled herself up next to him.

  The platform was small, about three meters by two meters, and felt pretty crowded with the three of them up there. A strong wind blew over them continuously, and if Marlowe let go, he knew he’d be carried off. Steel pillars in each corner of the platform rose up to the zeppelin, merging into an exo-skeleton wrapped around the dirigible’s surface.

  “Now what?” asked Nina. “We just wait?”

  “No, now we start working on these cables. The ones securing the zeppelin to the building, not the ones securing the platform to the zeppelin.”

  Nina snorted. “Well duh. I figured that much.”

  Marlowe moved Tray away from the edge and plopped him safely in the middle of the platform. “How much longer can you hold on,” he queried.

  The stream of bubbles Tray emitted were small and jerky. “Could you apply pressure to my spine? Just a little? It would help.”

  “Think about cricketball, it sometimes helps me,” replied Marlowe as he pressed down momentarily on an exposed portion of Tray’s exoskeleton. Then he turned his attention to the cables.

  The bolts all had quick-releases, a fact enormously relieving to Marlowe, who didn’t have any tools with him.

  Nina smiled grimly. “Release the cables and then ride up into the sky, further minimizing the damage caused by the bomb. Not a bad plan, even if it does still get us killed. You are probably the most noble person I’ve ever met. And not just now. In my entire life.”

  “That’s great, but less talk and more quick-releasing.” Marlowe snapped one of the releases, and the cable sliced away from the zeppelin, whizzing back down to the roof. The zeppelin shuddered heavily and the platform canted downwards, given Marlowe a much clearer view than he would have liked of the cable as it curved downwards, humming through the air until it slapped into the side of the building, leaving a deep gouge in the StyroCrete and bouncing a few times before before settling against the wall. Marlowe and Nina gripped a cable tethering the platform to the zeppelin to hold themselves in place until the oscillations diminished. Tray, unable to grab anything, slid first towards one edge of the platform, and then as the rocking motion peaked, started towards another edge. Marlowe managed to get a foot on Tray, just behind the optical array, arresting the motion.

  “Damn,” gasped Marlowe as the rocking subsided into an almost imperceptible bobbing, “that was close.”

  “Marlowe,” said Nina, looking as pale as Marlowe felt, “I need to get something off my chest before I die. I’d ask for a priest, but there aren’t any around, and I’m agnostic anyway.”

  Marlowe stopped the video feed to House. When House protested, he muted the entire channel. No more distractions, and there didn’t seem a need to record anything more for posterity. He sensed that Nina was about to reveal something very private and personal. They might actually be heroes when word got out what they’d done. Why spoil that with unnecessary revelations and, Marlowe hoped, naughty tawdry details?

  “What is it?”

  “I lied about my three crew mates getting killed when we first entered the 55 Cancri system.”

  “Oh.” Nina was actually confessing to something. He’d been hoping she wanted to reveal her need for one last fling before dying. He struggled to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “So what happened?”

  “Only Sarah and Arcady died during our insertion into the star system. Pablo survived along with me.”

  “Pablo?”

  “Science and medical officer. And my lover. I couldn’t stand him, but it was a long trip, and Sarah and Arcady had already hooked up.”

  “Ah,” said Marlowe knowingly, not actually knowing. He snapped another quick release and watched the cable sail down. Braced this time for the resulting buck of their tiny platform, he thought it seemed almost peaceful from their vantage point, despite the great swathes of StyroCrete that the cable sent spraying upon impact. “So what happened to Pablo?”

  “He was such a bastard. The rich son of a politically well-connected member of the Spanish government, he wanted to be one of the first humans to reach another star system. Spain had contributed a large portion of the money and resources needed to build the ship, giving them just enough clout to choose one of the crew members. Pablo’s mom, being a particularly powerful and well-placed member of the Spanish legislature, used her influence to get him a berth. Even though he didn’t pass the mental acuity tests. FSEP told the Spanish contingent he wasn’t suitable, but they insisted, and in the end, he got what he wanted.”

  “So what happened to him after you arrived?”

  “The damage, the deaths of Sarah and Arcady, the very real possibility we might not get back to Earth and the adoring crowds he craved, caused him to crack. Not at first. In the beginning, he was just irritable and useless. Only over the course of several months did he descend into psychosis.”

  “He tried to kill you?”

  “Several times. But that was never a problem. I could always tell when he was about to try. He developed a massive facial tick a couple of hours before an attempt.”

  “So you killed him in self defense?”

  “Well, not in so many words. Depends on your perspective, I suppose. We had set up a base on one of the moons of Tortoise, mining it for raw materials and manufacturing new parts. You’d be amazed at what we could do; FSEP realized we’d run into obstacles and would need to be self-sufficient. I don’t think they realized just how bad things would get. We spent weeks trying to manufacture these high pressure valves for fuel distribution. The damn things kept crumbling under test because of the porous nature of the materials we had at hand. Finally, after hundreds of failed efforts, we hit on a process that worked. My last day on the moon, we loaded the new valves onto the shuttle, and then I sent Pablo back for the food supplies. While he was in the greenhouse, I took off. Left him behind. If he was careful and stayed focused, he could have lived to a ripe old age. Well, except for the radiation. But that was beyond my control.”

  “You left him there?”

  “Yup. Like I sai
d, he was a bastard and too dangerous to take back with me. The trip back was even more cramped and confining, since there weren’t the moon bases to visit and stretch your legs at. He never would have stayed sane for that trip, and I was determined to get back alive. But I still feel bad about it.”

  She was certainly sticking to her story. Confessing to what was effectively murder as proof she was actually from outer space. Sadly, this open display of honesty did Nina’s cause little good, as he could hardly share it with anyone.

  The platform was spiraling in a lazy loop around the one remaining cable securing them to the building below. The motion wasn’t violent, but did leave Marlowe extremely reluctant to let go of Tray or his handhold. He squatted down to reduce his center of gravity and snaked his hand towards the last quick release.

  “Only one left. You ready,” he asked.

  Nina was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Marlowe popped the last release. With a crack, the zeppelin jerked and the last cable fell away. Released from its earthly bonds, the dirigible surged upwards like a parrot out of the City Pound and Glue Facility. Despite the circumstances, Marlowe found the view breathtaking. The City stretched out in all directions like grimy gray tentacles grasping the earth in a death grip, the larger buildings clinging to their zeppelins like small children afraid to lose their balloons. The building they’d just released from swayed dangerously, but didn’t collapse.

  “It’s beautiful,” whispered Nina. “I wish I could be seeing this place in happier circumstances. Will it be a big explosion?”

  “No, not really. It’s a small amount of anti-matter. But it will be very bright. And loud.”

  Nina laughed ruefully. “At least I get to go out with a bang. That always struck me as the right way to die.”

  “What’s space like? I used to read science fiction as a kid, and wondered what it’s like to float in zero gee.”

  “So you believe me now?”

  “Sure, why not? What have I possibly got to lose?”

  “Well, zero gee is simply the act of falling without hitting the ground.”

  “Sounds a lot like flying,” said Marlowe.

  “No, not really,” said Nina with a smile. “Flying is different.”

  “How so?”

  “Have you ever flown before?”

  Marlowe nodded. “Plenty of times.”

  “Fallen a lot?”

  Marlowe nodded even more vigorously. “Oh yeah, countless times.”

  “But you always hit the ground, right?”

  “Eventually.”

  “Well, if we fall from here, hitting the ground will take some time.” Nina’s smile had softened, her face a relaxed, smooth picture of acceptance.

  “I see where you’re heading with these questions,” said Marlowe, also smiling now.

  Nina gestured towards the ground. “How long, you think?”

  Marlowe thought a moment. “Ten, fifteen seconds. Or until the shock wave hits us when the soap blows. I think it’s a better way out than just sitting here, waiting.”

  Marlowe placed Tray on one of the open bolts, extending his body over the lip of the platform so he could see below, and then partially closed the quick release over him. “That should hold you, Tray,” bubbled Marlowe. “Think you could watch me fall?”

  Tray bubbled his assent.

  Marlowe extended his hand to Nina. “Show me how to fall without hitting the ground.”

  A fat tear welled up over the edge of Nina’s eyelid and rolled down her cheek. She took his hand and they both stared out over the platform. “It’s really rather simple.”

  “It is?”

  “Are we committing suicide? I’m not exactly religious, but I really didn’t want to check out that way.”

  “No, not suicide. We’re…,” and Marlowe searched for the best words. “We’re embracing death on our own terms.”

  Nina took a deep breath. “Any chance you could be rebuilt or repaired or whatever it is they do these days?”

  “From this height?” Marlowe shook his head and then smiled, a sudden burden lifted from his shoulders. “Not a freaking chance.”

  House was flashing him urgently, but Marlowe didn’t want to spoil the moment. He felt, amazingly enough, real peace. Of course, it could be the Relaxocotics the nano probes were pumping into his system. He decided he just didn’t care.

  Marlowe tensed, drawing in his breath as he prepared to leap, when Nina squeezed his hand sharply. “Wait, Marlowe, just a second.”

  She pulled on his hand, turning him into her, and then leaned forward, her lips pressing suddenly against his. He gasped in surprise, but then warmed to the soft sensation of her lips on his. His nano probes altered his breath, giving it the scent of oven-fresh cookies. He wished her breath tasted a little more like cookies, but now was hardly the time to complain. Her eyes were closed, and after a moment, Marlowe followed suit, being pleasantly surprised that the act seemed to intensify the sensations of their kiss.

  She pulled away, slightly breathless, and whispered, “Jump, now, before it’s too late.”

  They moved as one on some unspoken cue, still facing each other. They just leaned over, falling against nothing. Marlowe concentrated on the memory of the kiss, the current sensation of Nina’s hand in his, of the air roaring past him, a lion devouring him whole, of his stomach clenching at the new delicious sensation of falling. His eyes popped open, but he didn’t see anything. The wind was like a glove, wrapping around him, hugging him in a final embrace. He stretched his arms out, dragging Nina’s arm with him, and let out a whoop of pure joy. A twinge of irritation impinged on that joy as an emergency override code flashed across his retina.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” said House, “but I needed to tell you-”

  The impact, when it came, arrived too soon. It was about what Marlowe expected, only a thousand times worse. Violent didn’t seem strong enough a word to describe it, an adjective doing pale justice to the jarring, wrenching spasms of pain exploding throughout his body. Particularly through his legs. The next sensation Marlowe felt was surprise. Surprise that he could feel any sort of sensation at all, in particular the cold hard surface underneath him. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at the purple straining face of a constable behind the wheel of a police flitter.

  “Did what?” asked Marlowe, teeth gritted in pain as the nano probes slowly dispensed pain blockers.

  “I appropriated a police flitter,” said House with a hint of smugness. “The special powers the Governor granted you actually do allow you to requisition and use a police flitter in emergency situations, and this situation meets that criteria. Unfortunately, my first request, while broadcast to all police flitters in the area, was ignored by the officers piloting them. None of the constables wanted to get anywhere near the building with the possibility of it collapsing at any moment. So I had to use the special powers to gain access to the Ministry of Policing maintenance server and search for a vehicle that didn’t have a functioning manual override, because obviously it wouldn’t do to hijack a flitter and then have the officer inside override the automatic controls. It took me a while as the server was a bit blustery about accepting the validity of my authority, but he eventually relented and I found one. Alas, it wasn’t in the immediate area. I had to bring it here with an increasingly agitated driver trying to get out. I would recommend, when we land, that you get away as quickly as possible. I can keep the door locked, but these vehicles have explosive bolts that can be manually detonated to effect a fast emergency exit.”

  “Where’s Nina?”

  “Next to you. You are still holding her hand.”

  “Oh.” Marlowe tried to roll over, but couldn’t. He turned his head instead. Nina was next to him. “House arranged for a pickup, didn’t want to tell us and spoil the surprise. He suggests when we hit the ground that we get away from the very unhappy constable inside as quickly as possible.”

  Nina nodded.
“I’m sorry, Marlowe. You hit the hood of this thing first, and I landed on top of you. I think I really hurt you.” She looked oddly embarrassed.

  “That’s OK. I’m easier to fix.” The pain blockers had started to kick in real good. They prompted a goofy grin. “Did I do a good job breaking your fall?”

  “A few bruises, but nothing broken. Can’t say the same for you, though.”

  “I was going to bring the flitter alongside the zeppelin platform. You gave me quite a scare when you jumped,” said House. “I almost didn’t get to you in time. As it is, the constable had a rough ride in the final moments leading up to your rescue. He threw up more than once.”

  “What’s it look like, Nina? I can only see you, the hood, and that purple-faced constable.”

  “We’re maybe a hundred feet from the ground. I can see the Studebaker from here. It looks like it’s coming to meet us.”

  “And the zeppelin?”

  Nina looked up. “Directly above us.”

  “Yes,” said House, “I’m trying to keep us visible to Tray. Not sure how much longer that will last.”

  Marlowe rested his eyes on the constable, who, once you got used to the purple face, looked vaguely familiar. Try as he might, though, Marlowe couldn’t quite place him through the haze of pain killers. And his name tag had been made deliberately hard to read.

  House’s voice interrupted his reverie, his voice laced with urgency. “You’ll be on the ground in a few seconds. I wasn’t kidding about getting into the car and away as soon as possible. The level of profanity and threats I’m hearing in the cockpit lead me to believe the constable will employ lethal force at his earliest convenience.”

  “Did you explain to him we have the legal right to appropriate his vehicle?”

  “I have sent the message, but he refuses to acknowledge it.”