“I told him that, yes. I remember.”
“Anyway, he’s got it in his head that he’s never going to see you again. You know how he gets sometimes. No amount of talking will convince him. He says he’s sure something terrible is going to happen to you on that trip—he doesn’t even know where you’re going—and that he’ll never see you again.”
Spence could see his father sitting in his faded red chair mumbling and fretting over his son’s imagined demise. It was one of the stock images of Spence’s childhood and he hated it.
“What do you want me to do, Kate?” he asked, wishing that his mother was still alive. At least she had been able to soothe his father’s irrational fears; she had been the cooling balm poured out upon the fevered brow of her husband.
She answered hesitantly. “It would be nice if you would call him and wish him happy birthday. That way he could see you and hear your voice. It might convince him that you’re still okay, and that you’re thinking about him.”
“I’d love to do that, Kate, but I can’t. I’ll be on my way to Mars by then. I’m leaving tomorrow night and I won’t be back for some time.” He did not feel like rehearsing the details of his trip with her.
“Mars! Really, Spencer? That’s fantastic. Wait until I tell the boys—they’ll be so thrilled.” Her enthusiasm died almost at once. “But what about Dad?”
“I’m sorry. He’ll just have to understand.”
“But isn’t there something you could do, Spence? Anything?”
“I could record a call and have it sent then. I could also send a souvenir of the station—he might like that.”
“Would you? It would make him so happy. I’m sure whatever you could send would be fine. It isn’t the gift, it’s the thought that counts.”
But it was Kate’s thought—and that was the whole point. “I’ll get something on the next shuttle.”
“Just send it to me. We’re having a little family party for him on Tuesday night. I’ll take care of everything.”
“Fine. You’ll be notified about the call. I’ll make sure they give you plenty of time to get to the base.”
There was a strained pause. “Well, Spence, I’d better go. Take care of yourself, how. And call when you get back. I know two boys who will want to hear their Uncle Spence tell ‘em all about it.”
“I’ll do that, Kate. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Spence.”
The screen went dark. He sat for a moment gazing into the flat gray square. Then he stood stiffly and left the booth, feeling very hollow and alone, as if every liquid gram of compassion had been wrung out of him in the pitiful effort of conversation with one of his family members.
He wandered back to his quarters, gray-faced and eyes burning from the exhaustion of his long day. He stopped briefly at the Visitor’s Center to browse among various souvenirs and memorabilia offered as mementos of a trip to Gotham. He selected a small, cast aluminum replica of the space station which was mounted on a grayish stone—part of an asteroid or a moon rock—and designed undoubtedly to be used as a paperweight.
He paid for his purchase, rattling off his account number to a bored clerk who dutifully punched in the data.
“You want it wrapped?” she asked, stifling a yawn.
“No thanks, I’ll eat it here,” he said, and stuffed the object into a zippered pocket and shambled off to his night’s rest.
19
MAINTAINING THE RUSE OF “business as usual” proved harder than Spence imagined. For one thing, Tickler seemed especially interested in his plans for the next run of experiments set to begin that night.
“When shall I tell our assistant, Mr. Millen, to join us?”
“Oh, at the usual time. I see no reason to deviate from our norm. Do you?”
“No, sir. Not at all. I just thought that you might have plans which would necessitate rescheduling. In that case I should know about them, that’s all.”
It was all Spence could do to keep from smirking. “I realize I have been somewhat unpredictable. Tickler. But I’m turning over a new leaf.” He turned toward his officious assistant and a lopsided grin stole over his face. “Starting tonight you’ll notice a dramatic departure from my usual habits.”
Tickler bent his head to one side and sucked in his breath as if he were about to press the matter further, but then thought better of it. That left him holding his breath with his mouth open.
“Was there something else?” asked Spence cheerily.
“Ahh—no.” Tickler exhaled like a leaky balloon. “I am quite satisfied.” But he stood there blinking his tiny beady eyes as if he expected to be asked to stay to tea and would be disappointed if he were not.
Spence guessed he was waiting for additional information regarding his plans. He decided to end the conversation. “Well, then, if there’s nothing else, I suggest we both get busy. There is a lot to be done before tonight. You may wish to catch some sleep before we begin. It could be a long one.”
“Of course.” Tickler turned and scuttled away. Spence watched him take up his place at the far end of the lab opposite his own work station.
All he needs, thought Spence, is whiskers and a tail, and the rodent family would have a new patriarch.
SPENCE HAD NO INTENTION of showing up for the evening’s session. But as the shift came to an end he made a point of remarking to Tickler, “I’ll expect you here promptly at the beginning of the third shift. I want to start at once.”
To this Tickler replied, “Punctuality is my middle name. Dr. Reston.”
“Of course it is,” said Spence. “I had always wondered.”
Tickler left and Spence dashed to his quarters and began stuffing his belongings into a travel frame, the soft-sided, collapsible carrier of lightweight design used exclusively for shuttle travelers. They were a status symbol back on Earth, identifying seasoned jumpvets. Naturally, they were copied by numerous manufacturers and sold to anyone who wanted one badly enough to pay the outrageous sums these frames fetched. His own bore the company logo in silver on the side and had been given to him prior to the jump.
Although allowed to take two frames with him on the trip, he decided to squeeze by with one. He did not care to be bothered with unnecessary baggage. Only at the last minute did he decide to take along his camera.
When it was ready he called housekeeping and asked them to send someone to take it down to the docking bay for him. He did not wish to be seen lugging his frame through the station; he had played it close this far and did not want to risk giving himself away so near to the payoff.
Within the hour a page came to take his frame down for him.
“Do you know who I am?” Spence asked the young man.
“No, sir.” He acted as if it was a question he heard often.
“I’d appreciate it if no one else knew either. If anyone asks, you never saw me and the frame belongs to Dr. Packer. Got that?”
“Got it.”
Spence handed him a stack of coins for his trouble. “Here, have one of whatever it is you guys have these days on me.”
“I never saw you, sir.”
“Right.”
The kid disappeared pulling the frame through the portal.
Spence went back to his quarters and carefully arranged everything to appear as if he had only stepped from the room and would be returning any moment. Why he went to the trouble he did not know. And he told himself that he was being ridiculous. But having adopted the undercover posture he found himself enjoying the intrigue.
He left the jumpsuit he had been wearing the night before hanging over the chair. Scattered papers lay on his desk, and a mug of cold coffee sat on the table beside the bed. The bedclothes themselves he left rumpled.
When at last he had satisfied himself that everything looked normal, he tiptoed out and left the lab. He had no sooner crossed the threshold of the portal than he ran smack into his assistant, Kurt Millen.
“Kurt!” he gasped, nearly knocking the young man over.
“Excuse me. Dr. Reston, I didn’t see you coming. We’re always bumping into one another.”
“Yes—” Spence’s mind raced to think of a way to escape without arousing suspicion. “I … I was just on my way to the commissary. Would you like to join me?”
For one sickening second he thought the cadet would accept his bogus offer.
“Thank you for inviting me. Dr. Reston. But I’ve got some things to do—Dr. Tickler left me a list of chores. I’d better not.”
“You’re sure? Just a cup of coffee? I’ll buy.” Spence fearlessly played the charade to the ragged edge.
“Maybe some other time?”
“Sure—no problem. I won’t be a minute.” He turned and started away. “I’d better go grab a place in line so I can get back.”
He left the cadet standing in front of the lab entrance watching him. Spence kicked himself for overacting his part. He had quite possibly created suspicion where no suspicion existed before. So, to make it look good he strolled dutifully along to the commissary and went inside to stand in line for a few minutes.
He then left, darting back into the trafficway and losing himself in the between-shift throngs heading to and from the cafeteria. He suspected that Kurt would try to follow him. He told himself the notion was absurd, but dodged into a tube and changed levels a couple times anyway, arriving at Ari’s door glancing over his shoulder and peering into every shadow.
“Spence! Oh, I’m so glad you came. I was afraid something had happened.”
“Something almost did. But there’s no problem now.” He stepped quickly inside and came to stand in the middle of the room with Ari. They stood face to face, both pretending to be coolly friendly and neither one succeeding.
“How long can you stay?”
“Just a few minutes. I should get down to the bay before the others start boarding—just in case.”
“I understand.”
“Ari, I wonder if you could do me a favor while I’m gone?” said Spence suddenly.
“Of course, anything.”
“My dad’s birthday … I got him a souvenir, but I forgot to send it. Could you make sure he gets it? I left it in my jumpsuit in my quarters.”
“I’ll take care of it right away, Spence. Don’t give it another thought.”
Delicate silence followed this exchange. Ari looked at her hands, clasping them and unclasping them. Spence watched her as if she were practicing magic.
Finally, she raised her head shyly. “I’ll miss you, Spence. I miss you already and you’re not even gone.”
“I’ll miss you, too. I’ve been thinking that—”
Suddenly she was very close and his arms were around her, pressing her to him. She murmured softly and he smelled the fresh, clean scent of perfume in her hair.
“Spence, you’ll be gone so long …”
“Not so long. It’ll pass quickly. You’ll see.” The words came out in a rush, and it was all he could do to keep his composure. Why this turmoil, this confusion over a mere girl? What’s come over me, he thought to himself.
“Well, I’d better go,” he said at last. He was beginning to fear that if he stayed with her any longer he would not be able to leave.
She released him and composed herself, putting on a cheery face and manner.
“I’ll think about you every day.”
She took him by the arm and led him to the door. “You run along now. I know you’re going to have a beautiful time of it—running around in your little space suits all of you, playing scientist.”
“I’ll come back and tell you all about it.” He laughed and his voice made a hollow sound.
“I planned to go down to the bay with you, but I won’t. I don’t want you to see me cry.”
He turned her face to his and kissed her gently. “Goodbye, Ari,” he whispered, and then darted away. She heard his footsteps in the corridor and listened until they merged with other sounds. Then she went back to begin her wait.
THE DOCKING BAY HUMMED with activity. The boarding tube had been attached to the transport which bore the name Gyrfalcon in glittering gold letters across her bulging bow. Skids of supplies and baggage—most of it scientific instruments in cargo frames—were being shoved aboard. Outside the station a small army of maintenance men swarmed the surface of the transport, their arc lights playing over the sleek, black skin of the ship as they moved through their preflight check. It looked like a great black whale patiently enduring a precise grooming by a platoon of tiny silver fishes.
On the big chronometer above the boarding tube he saw that there was less than an hour to blast time. A few of the younger cadet passengers were standing around the bay looking jittery and laughing loudly. Spence allowed himself only a few seconds more to take in the rush of activity around the great spaceship. Then he slipped in behind a roboskid loaded with dehydrated rations and entered the boarding tube feeling like a stowaway, half expecting someone to challenge him with a “Halt! Who goes there?”
No one did. No one seemed to notice his arrival at all, which produced a peculiar sense of disappointment for Spence.
He reached the end of the brightly lit tube and entered the hold where dozens of men labored to position all the stores and baggage and lock them into place within huge cargo frames. He threaded his way through the confusion and started toward the head of the ship and the passenger quarters.
A few yellowsuited maintenance men moved along the ship’s central gangways trailing black-and-green striped hoses and wagons with odd-looking metallic boxes with flashing lights which emitted chirps and clicks as they slid along the floorplates. Spence also saw the royal blue jumpsuits of the transport’s crew, who were standing at their stations or talking quietly to one another as the yellowsuits fiddled efficiently around them.
He found an open gallery of seats with their safety webs hanging loosely draped over the headrests as if giant spiders had been busy during the night. He walked across the compartment and came to stand before an observation port to look out upon the space station he had just left. The activity in the docking bay had intensified in the few^ minutes since he arrived. He could see through the huge observation bubble into the docking bay where some thirty or so cadets had gathered and were waiting to board. A great many others had come to see them off, and a host of yellowsuits were dashing here and there in last-minute preparations.
“So! You are anxious to go to Mars, yes?”
He turned to greet the hulking form of Kalnikov, the captain of the transport. The burly giant crossed the gallery in two strides and shoved out a great meaty paw which squashed Spence’s as the two shook hands. Kalnikov looked like the classic Russian weight lifter—broad shoulders above a sinewy back, thick arms, and fists that could probably crush stones. His voice rumbled out from deep within his barrel chest.
“Yes,” Spence began to confess, “I was just—”
Before he could finish the man slapped him on the back with a bone-jarring blow.
“Haw! I was that way my first time, too! It is a delicious feeling! Enjoy!”
“Thank you,” Spence replied when he regained his breath. The stout Russian turned and pounded away; Spence could hear his voice shaking the floorplates as he bellowed his delight at being space-bound once more. He heard a snatch of song as it boomed out in the corridor:
“God of shining galaxies
Lead me from this place.
Lord of starfields fly with me, Beyond the edge of space…”
Spence couldn’t help smiling. He could feel the hum of electricity starting to flow and tingle on his skin; he was as excited as any green cadet. For the first time in many days he felt alive.
Kalnikov’s voice echoed down the gangway. “Welcome, my friends! Come along! We are going to enjoy this journey! Come along!”
For a moment Spence entertained an absurd image of God, the Creator of the universe, as a big Russian pilot, calling his cadets to join him in a fantastic flight of discovery.
“All right,” murmured Spence to himself. “I’m ready. Lead on.”
20
WHAT DO YOU MEAN!” Hocking screeched.
“We … that is, he … never showed up,” Tickler stammered.
“How could he not show up? He never left the lab. That’s what you said. Millen watched him the whole time, you said.”
“Not all the time, no,” said Kurt slowly, very much aware of the danger he was in at that moment. “He went to the commissary for a few minutes.”
“You were not to let him out of your sight!”
“It couldn’t be helped …”
“Oh? And why not?” Hocking demanded. Color had risen to his cheeks, staining his pale flesh with a crimson tinge in the low light of his quarters. Snaky veins stood out on his forehead, and he appeared as if he might burst with rage and frustration.
“I watched him until he got in line at the commissary and then went back to wait. I couldn’t let him see me watching him, could I?”
“Ortu will hear about this! I will not keep this from him. This time you’ll have to face him yourselves. Unless—”
“Unless?” Tickler leaped at the first sign of hope that they might somehow avert the wrath of the shadowy and severe Ortu.
“Unless you find him immediately. You have four hours.”
“We can’t search the whole station in four hours,” Millen whined.
“You’ll find a way,” hissed Hocking. “I want him found. Quickly. Do you hear me? Or else Ortu will deal with you.”
“We’ll find him,” promised Tickler.
Without waiting for Hocking to change his mind both men hurried away to begin their search. They donned pressure suits and made their way back across the construction site. Once back inside the station they hung their suits on the racks and stepped into the tram.
“It’s all your fault!” muttered Tickler thickly.
“My fault!” Kurt glared at his companion. “I watched him as you instructed. You told me to search his quarters as soon as I got a chance—with him in the commissary I had a perfect chance. He wasn’t going anywhere. He told me he’d be right back. Even invited me to go along with him.”
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