Sunborn

by Jeffrey Carver

  Julie tried to will her heart to stop thundering. “Yah. Well, I’m on my way to talk to the captain. He wanted to see me.”

  Arlene nodded and started into the booth.

  “Listen,” Julie said. “I might be...late for dinner tonight. So go ahead and start, don’t wait for me.” She grabbed Arlene’s arm and squeezed it impulsively. Before Arlene could reply, she turned and fled up the passageway.

  The captain’s quarters were just aft of the bridge. She knocked hesitantly, and heard his muffled voice tell her to come in. She slipped inside and shut the door behind her. The quarters were only modestly larger than hers, but far more cluttered, with zero-gee bookshelves, photographs, and various official-looking pieces of equipment. The captain was seated at a small desk, with a tablet, a computer, and several open books arrayed in front of him. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the only chair. He closed his books and turned off his tablet, facing her.

  Julie sat with her hands folded in her lap. She wasn’t sure what to expect of the captain. She knew what she had to do. But the captain was an unknown.

  He ran his fingers back through his gray-streaked hair, looking tired. “Have you finished all the messages you wanted to send?” he asked. She nodded. “And you kept this business to yourself? Because we need to check all messages before we transmit. Not just yours, but everyone’s.” Iacuzio sat back, glanced at a framed image of a dark-haired woman—his wife? daughter?—and scratched his jaw. “Listen, Miss Stone. I’ve been thinking a lot about the last thing I said to the translator. Perhaps you can tell me— is there another way?”

  He knows. Will he let me do it?

  He cocked his head, and she wondered if he was reading her mind. “You know,” he said, “that we have a small maintenance craft docked to our hull, yes? Now, I don’t know if...” His voice trailed off, and his jaw went to one side, and he seemed to be having doubts as he watched her reaction.

  Julie let her breath out—had she been holding it?—and said, her voice unsteady, “Yes, the translator told me that it could try the mission using the service craft. It would be more difficult, because of its lower mass, and more limited supplies, and the chances of returning are smaller. But I—that is, we—were going to—”

  Iacuzio rocked forward. “No, you are not going to do anything,” he said flatly. “Unless you’re holding a pilot’s rating somewhere that you haven’t told anyone about.”

  *Flying experience will not be needed,* the stones murmured.

  “Nor am I going to send any of my crew on a one-way mission. But there’s nothing that says I can’t go myself.” The captain was rubbing his thumb and forefinger together, studying his hand.

  “But your ship—your responsibility here—”

  He looked up, his clear gaze framed by his graying hair. “I have a highly qualified executive officer who is perfectly capable of looking after this ship without me. But I would need your cooperation in working with the translator.”

  *We require you and your stones, not the captain.*

  Julie exhaled, shaking her head. “Captain, that’s—not what the translator needs. It needs me.” On an impulse, she pulled back her sleeves, raised her hands, and showed her wrists to the captain. Her stones glowed accommodatingly. “And it needs these.”

  Iacuzio stared at her wrists as if they were the translator. Then he looked up again. “No,” he said.

  Her voice started to shake. “What do you mean, no?”

  “I mean, no. You have no training and it would be a dea—” He caught himself and shook his head. “The risk would be far too great. Unacceptable. I will not send an untrained young woman into deep space to her...almost certain death. Translator or no translator.” He glanced again at the photo. Definitely a daughter.

  She sat for a moment, her head spinning. What about the risk to Earth?

  Before she could say anything more, there was a sharp jolt through the deck, followed by a heavy vibration and loud klaxon sound from the corridor. What the—?

  The captain’s gaze snapped around. “Stay right here!” he ordered and clicked on his intercom. “Bridge! Captain. What’s going on?”

  “Major power fluctuation in the fusion drive, Captain!” The voice from the intercom was tight but steady.

  “How bad?”

  “Way in the red. We have to shut her down.”

  “Do so at once.” Another alarm sounded, there was a softer jolt, and acceleration cut off. Julie began to rise in her seat, weightless. “Are we stable?” Iacuzio asked, still speaking to the intercom.

  “Pressure in the reactor has dropped into the green. We’re stable.”

  “All right. I’ll be there in a minute. Start assembling a repair team for EVA.” Iacuzio turned to Julie. “That one maintenance craft is the only way we have of getting to the drive for repair. So it looks like neither one of us is going. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

  “Captain, wait!” Julie grabbed awkwardly at his desk to keep from floating into him. The stones were buzzing in her head. “The translator has something—”

  The captain had one hand on the door. “Make it fast.”

  She blinked, listening. “The translator has monitored the malfunction. It’s a critical one, and needs immediate attention. But the translator can repair it. If you send me out in the craft.”

  “Send you—why you?”

  She gulped, listening as the stones spoke rapidly. “Because it will need the stones on the scene, and because—”

  “Fine. You can go as a passenger.”

  “No, I have to go alone, because...” She flushed. “It wants to continue on with the mission—with me—after it has repaired the reactor.”

  Iacuzio’s blue eyes widened. He growled, “Is the translator trying to blackmail me?”

  “No, sir—it’s offering a deal.”

  With a soft curse, Iacuzio turned back and forth from the door, then said, “Stay here while I go to the bridge.” He flew out of the cabin.

  Julie followed him; the bridge was only a short distance. The alarm had stopped, but crew members were hurtling urgently up and down the passages. She paused at the entrance to the bridge when she heard the captain growl in dismay. She peered in. Captain Iacuzio was engaged in a heated technical discussion with the bridge crew. He turned and scowled when he saw her. But when he spoke, it was to snap to a crewman, “Then that’s what we’ll have to do! Don’t argue with me. Get the craft ready!” He turned again, and shouted, “Lieutenant Cohn, where are you?”

  “Here, sir.” Henry was at the far end of the bridge, hunched over a console.

  “Henry, follow me.” Both of them barreled toward the door where Julie was waiting, and would have plowed into her if she hadn’t backed away hastily. “Henry, get Miss Stone down to the maintenance craft on the double.”

  “Captain?” Henry’s face went from worried to stunned.

  “Fast, Henry. Get her aboard the craft, and make sure she has everything she needs. Air, food, extra of everything. Understood?”

  “Sir, is this a—?”

  “Not a joke, no. She and the translator are going to repair the drive. So says the translator—and further, it says it can fly the craft. Is that right, Miss Stone?” Captain Iacuzio turned to her with blazing eyes.

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Then, Miss Stone, you need to know that we have a critical overload building in a secondary reactor chamber. It could rupture and destroy the rest of the drive. I don’t know how it happened, and I would not send you, except that we have no choice. We can’t fix it in time.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now, move—both of you! God help you, girl.”

  “Thank you, sir. And please don’t—”

  “Get going!” Iacuzio roared.

  *

  /What about the translator? Is it coming?/ she asked the stones as they pushed off down the passageway. /Do I need to see it first?/

  *It is preparing to join you there.*

  �
��Julie, please tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing,” Henry said, gliding beside her and giving her a slight correction with a nudge.

  “Which way? Are we almost there?”

  “This way.” Henry caught her arm and pulled her through a side passage and into a different corridor. They went past a bulkhead door, and suddenly were in a ready room filled with lockers and cabinets, spacesuits, air tanks, and other gear. Two crewmen were scurrying in and out through a hatch with supplies. “Julie—” Henry said, and the words started flying from his mouth. “Do you have any training in a craft like that? Do you want me to—?”

  She made a sharp gesture with the flat of her hand, cutting him off. “Henry! No more questions! Just get me ready.”

  Henry nodded and spoke quickly to the crewmen. He turned back to her. “All right. There’s a fully charged spacesuit already on the craft, in a locker. You’ll only need that if you lose pressure for some reason. There’s air for five days, for two people. There are some emergency rations on board, but here—” he flipped open a storage pod and gathered up an armful of food packets “—take these, just in case. And here, water.”

  “What’s going on here?” one of the crewmen asked. “I thought she was just going to fix the reactor.”

  “She is. If it’s ready, let her board.”

  The crewmen moved out of the way, but didn’t look happy about it. “Captain’s orders,” Henry snapped. “Julie? Come on.”

  Laden with supplies, Julie ducked through the airlock into the cramped, musty-smelling cockpit of the maintenance craft. She found a place to dump the supplies and worked herself into the pilot’s seat. “Okay.” She stared uncomprehending at the bank of controls. “Where are the communications?”

  Henry reached in and pointed. “Masters, comm, propulsion, life support. Turn them all on.” She snapped the switches in quick succession, which brought lights and sounds to life in the cabin. Henry seemed suddenly to lose his voice. Clearly he wanted to say something. “You okay?” he said finally.

  Julie nodded and closed her eyes. /Are you almost ready?/

  *Affirmative. The translator is moving at this time. It will be attached to the outside of your craft momentarily.*

  Julie reached to fasten her seat restraints and said to Henry, “Can you seal me in, please?”

  “Yah—right.” Henry pulled away, then stuck his head in one more time. “Listen. Whatever you have planned...” His brow was furrowed in a scowl.

  “Shut the hatch, Henry!”

  “Right.” He slapped a control. “Be careful!” he shouted as the hatch slid shut. He waved through the window.

  Julie bit her lip, reading the inside of the hatch by her right shoulder. Stenciled on the lip of the window was the inscription:

  MNT DPLY UNT 1

  /We’re in the army now. There is only one maintenance craft. Okay.../ She ran her fingers along the controls. Rows of indicator lights had come on, most of them turning from red to amber to green, as the automatic systems booted up. She leaned to her left, and through the window saw two curved sections of hull—one, part of the main ship, and the other, curving tightly rearward, the hull of this craft. Behind it all was the black of space. She jerked herself back and turned on the comm. A voice was blaring: “...Artifact analysis team to the hold at once! The artifact has disappeared from monitors. Repeat, the artifact is no longer visible on monitors.”

  I’m sorry, Dr. Lamarr, she thought. I really am. /Where is it now?/

  She was answered by the slightly deeper voice of the translator itself. *We are attached to the outside of your craft, near the propulsion unit. Please make ready to undock.* Out the left window, she glimpsed a faint flicker of light. She felt a sudden, shivering sense of electricity around her. Something very powerful had come to life around the craft.

  /What should I do?/

  *Prepare to separate.*

  The next voice from the comm caught her by surprise. It was Captain Iacuzio. “All hands, the translator is assisting us with this emergency. Is Maintenance One ready? Lieutenant Cohn, are you ready to release Maintenance One?” She glanced over her shoulder and saw Henry’s face through the window one last time. “Release Maintenance One.”

  She felt a jolt, and the craft began to float gently away from its docking cradle. Out the cockpit window, Julie saw a gap opening between her craft and the Park Avenue; more and more of the mother ship was becoming visible. Thrusters fired. They were drifting away, and to the other ship’s stern. /What now?/

  *We must gain a clear distance from the ship.*

  /And the emergency?/

  *We are in the process of restoring the reactor. There will be no further malfunction.*

  Julie could feel her eyes bulge. “Are you saying there was never—? Why, you son of a b—” She bit off her audible curse and snarled inwardly, /You put this whole charade on to get me away in this little tin can?/

  *It seemed the only way.*

  “Damn!” she yelled. “Fuck!” She snapped off the comm.

  *It really did seem the only way.*

  She cursed a silent stream and snapped the comm back on. The ship was calling her: “Miss Stone, is there a problem? Can we help?”

  “No. I’m fine. I broke a fingernail. How’s that reactor, is it calming down?”

  “Affirmative. It is stabilizing. How the heck is that possible?”

  “Dunno. But keep me posted.” She pushed her head back against the seat and watched the ballet as the craft glided toward the stern of the Park Avenue. On the comm, she heard someone on one part of the ship yell to someone else that the maintenance craft was dangerously far from the ship, and shouldn’t they do something? The captain’s voice came back on and said, No, it was part of the plan, don’t worry. Another voice was paging Julie Stone to the cargo hold.

  Julie drew a long, slow breath as her stomach did a somersault. She didn’t feel any acceleration, but the Park Avenue was moving away faster. /Is this going to be a one-way trip, like John’s?/ she asked suddenly, the frightening thought slipping past her guard of optimism.

  *That is a possibility. We do not know what will happen.*

  She swallowed hard. She was going to spend a long time processing this, she knew. She hadn’t even really gotten over losing John, and now she was off to do the same thing. She did not think of herself as a particularly brave or self-sacrificing person.

  *Sometimes people learn what they are capable of only when—*

  /And sometimes people need to close their eyes and pretend that none of this is happening,/ she muttered. And she did just that, as the two vessels continued moving apart.

  *

  Her retreat didn’t last long, but it helped. Now the comm unit was blinking insistently and buzzing at a low volume. She reached to turn the volume back up; she didn’t remember having turned it down.

  The bridge comm officer was calling to her. “Miss Stone, can you hear me? Are you able to scan the reactor area from your present location?”

  She peered helplessly at the control console and appealed to the translator. *The malfunction is corrected. We have made several adjustments to reduce the risk of future drive failure. They should prepare for a restart.*

  Julie relayed that information.

  A moment later, the comm officer said, “Miss Stone, Dr. Lamarr would like to speak to you on a private line.”

  Julie told him to go ahead. He could make her feel bad maybe, but he couldn’t stop her. The comm crackled, then she heard his voice.

  “Miss Stone, when the translator spoke of...another way...this wasn’t exactly what I thought it had in mind, taking you in a small craft that wouldn’t even get you to...” His voice seemed to catch.

  “No, Dr. Lamarr,” she answered. “But since we couldn’t risk the whole ship, this was the only other option.”

  “Yes. Is the translator with you?”

  “It is. As soon as we have confirmation that your fusion drive is working, we’ll be on our way.
”

  “I see. You know, we’d had hopes...well.” It was a done deal, and he seemed to realize it.

  She remembered how surprised she’d been when Lamarr had voiced a willingness to go along with the translator’s original plan. “Dr. Lamarr—thank you for being willing to support the translator in the end. Even if it...even if it’s not the way we’d hoped.”

  There was static for a moment, before he answered, “Yes, well—I guess I’m there with you in spirit. I hope we see you again, and...Godspeed.”

  Julie felt a lump in her throat, but before she could answer, Captain Iacuzio came back on to say, “We’re preparing a restart of the drive, as soon as you’re at a safe distance to observe.”

  The translator muttered to her, and she echoed to the captain, “You may go ahead.”

  They were now behind and to one side of the Park Avenue, at a distance of perhaps a kilometer. The drive units were clearly visible. She could hear the captain issue an all-ship warning, and a few seconds later, the tail of the ship began to glow scarlet, then orange. Then, as if with a quick flick, the fire turned diamond-white. The ship began to accelerate away from her.

  She swallowed, keyed the comm, and said, “Everything looks fine from here. Good-bye, Park Ave.”

  An answer started to come from the ship, but was cut off by a knife-stroke, as a bright ring of light sprang up around her craft, encircling it at the middle, maybe fifty meters across. Julie craned her neck to see. She suddenly realized that the Park Avenue was receding impossibly fast. It dwindled in a few seconds to a twinkling point, and then it was lost in the starry darkness. My God. What have I done? She turned to look the other way, and was stunned to see a series of wide, concentric rings of light stream out behind the craft.

  *We are threading space. Radio communication is no longer available.*

  She blinked, trying to clear the mist from her eyes as she peered into space, wondering where exactly she was going, and how fast. Against the darkness, the sun was brighter than the rest of the stars, but not by much. All the stars seemed very distant, very cold, and very lonely.

  Chapter 30