Chasing Stars

by Helen Douglas

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘They won’t be offering us peanuts and drinks or allowing us to unclip and enjoy the experience of weightlessness.’

  My insides began swimming around as we walked through the main entrance into the terminal building. What if Ben hadn’t managed to send our papers? What if I didn’t pass the medical exam? Or clear security? I looked around me. The other passengers were a mixture of men and women, all dressed in uniforms of various styles.

  ‘All employees of the spaceport,’ said Peg quietly. ‘Back from shore leave probably.’

  He pointed towards the Customer Services desk. ‘You go and get our papers. I’ll check in our luggage. I’ll meet you by the entrance to security, OK?’

  I nodded and strode over to the desk, trying to look as though I travelled through space all the time. There was no need to be nervous. We hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet.

  The assistant handed me two cards: one with Peg’s details and one with mine. Easy.

  ‘We go through security now,’ said Peg, ‘and then we’ll be separated for our medical exam.’

  ‘What sort of things do they look for in your medical?’ I asked as we joined the line for security.

  ‘Simple things. Cardiovascular health is the main one. They’ll also check you for any signs of infectious diseases. Check your bone density – that sort of thing.’

  ‘What if I don’t pass?’

  ‘Then we don’t get on the flight. But you’re not feeling sick, are you?’

  ‘Only sick with nerves.’

  Peg’s fingers found mine and he gave my hand a gentle squeeze. ‘I’m kind of nervous myself,’ said Peg. ‘I’ve never been further than low Earth orbit.’

  ‘Is it dangerous?’

  We shuffled forward in the queue.

  ‘It’s the safest form of travel there is. Statistically. Still, there’s something a bit unnerving knowing that you’re surrounded by the vacuum of space.’

  I gripped his hand tighter. ‘I wouldn’t know what to do in an emergency.’

  ‘Relax. Travelling through time is much more dangerous and you survived that.’

  We reached the security checkpoint. I handed over my paperwork from Ben and the flexi-card the Institute had given me when I’d arrived.

  ‘Eden Anfield?’ asked the emigration officer.

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘Says here Eden Anfield is a minor,’ said the emigration officer. ‘Sixteen years old. We’ll need authorisation from your parents for a trip into space.’

  ‘I’m her legal guardian,’ said Peg, handing over his port-com.

  The officer looked doubtfully at Peg, but scanned through his details. ‘OK,’ he said eventually. ‘Males that way, females over there.’

  ‘See you on the other side,’ said Peg, finally letting go of my hand.

  I was directed into a cold, curtained-off cubicle that smelt of antiseptic and metal, and told to strip down to my underwear and lie on the trolley. I folded my clothes up and placed them in a neat pile on the floor. There was nothing to cover myself up with – no gown or sheet. I sat up on the trolley in my bra and pants, my arms cradling my body to keep warm.

  The curtain snapped back and a nurse came inside, pushing a small trolley filled with bottles, a stethoscope, a port-com.

  ‘First trip into space?’ she asked, staring at my records on her port-com.

  ‘Yes.’ Now didn’t seem like a good time to mention my time-trip or that Peg had taken me into low Earth orbit.

  ‘You will probably experience nausea for the first twenty-four hours.’ She met my eye with an unsmiling face. ‘Most people do.’

  I lay shivering on the trolley as she checked my heartbeat and blood pressure, took several swabs from the inside of my nose and my throat and made me breathe into an inflatable bag.

  Through the flimsy divider, I could hear other women undergoing the same procedures in the cubicles either side of me.

  Finally, she handed me two plastic bags. One was empty; the other contained a bright orange outfit.

  ‘Put your own clothes in the empty bag and dress in the flight suit,’ she said. ‘When you’re done, leave the curtain open and go to the departure lounge.’

  ‘Have I passed?’

  The curtain clanged as she pulled it to one side, revealing me in my underwear to the passengers waiting for their medical. ‘You’re free to fly.’

  Embarrassed, I pulled the curtain shut quickly and tore the plastic wrap from the flight suit. It was a thick, tight-fitting boiler suit with a high collar that reached to just under my chin. Immediately I felt too hot. I stuffed my own clothes in the other bag and left the cubicle.

  Peg was waiting for me at the entrance to the departure lounge. He was dressed the same as me.

  ‘Nice clash,’ he said, picking up a strand of my hair and holding it against the flight suit.

  ‘Why on earth would you choose orange?’ I said, looking around. ‘Anything would be better than orange.’

  ‘Easier to spot you in the event of a self-eject,’ he said.

  ‘Why would anyone self-eject?’ I couldn’t disguise the tremble in my voice.

  ‘If there was a problem with the ship and we had to eject, the bright orange is easier for the rescue crews to see,’ he said. ‘It’s just a health and safety thing. Don’t worry. We’ll be safe.’

  ‘How come we didn’t wear them when you took me up before?’

  ‘Strictly speaking, we should have. But it was only a quick flight and I wanted to show you a good time, not scare you to death.’

  An electronic voice announced that our flight was cleared for boarding. We walked down a tunnel to the spacecraft. It was much the same as the shuttle Peg had taken me joyriding in. There were seats for fifty, laid out in wide rows just like on a bus except that the space around each seat was much greater.

  ‘It’s a Westland Shuttle,’ said Peg. ‘About twenty years old. These ships were designed for short distances. Utterly reliable. This one is a more recent model than the one I took you on.’

  We found our seats on the back row.

  ‘How long will this take?’ I asked, as I strapped myself in.

  ‘Twenty-four hours.’

  ‘Really. It only took two minutes to get here from 2012.’

  ‘That’s because you portalled all the way,’ he said. ‘Uses a lot of fuel and is much higher risk. Like I said, we’re in the cheap seats. We’ll portal to just beyond the reach of Earth’s orbit and then cruise towards the spaceport.’

  The cabin crew came round with small glass bottles. They passed me a green bottle and gave Peg a blue one. ‘Please drink all of your medicine right away,’ said the flight attendant. ‘We will be attaching helmets ready for portal in five minutes.’

  ‘What was that all about?’ I asked.

  ‘It’ll send you to sleep,’ he said. ‘When we wake up, we’ll be at the spaceport.’

  ‘Do we have to drink it?’

  ‘Yes. It’s not a cruise ship, it’s a bus. They don’t want to deal with people unstrapping to go to the toilet or experiencing motion sickness or having to feed us in a weightless environment. Much easier to send us all to sleep, strap on our helmets and go.’

  Peg unscrewed his bottle and downed it in one.

  ‘Why do we have to wear helmets?’ I asked.

  ‘Safety precaution in case of eject. The cabin’s pressur­ised.’ He leant across for my bottle and untwisted the top. ‘Drink up.’

  I swallowed the contents. It was a clear, sweet liquid that made my throat sting; like so many medicines it had been over-sweetened in an attempt to disguise its bitter taste.

  ‘Thank you for coming with me, Peg,’ I said quietly.

  ‘I wouldn’t have missed a trip to the spaceport for anything.’

  My tongue felt thick in my mouth and my eyelids were growing heavy. ‘If we have to eject, will you hold my hand?’

  ‘I’ll hold it now,’ he said, his fingers inter
secting mine.

  ‘Don’t let go.’

  ‘I won’t let go.’

  I had a sudden desire to tell him how much his friendship meant to me, but my mouth couldn’t form the shapes, and then I was gone.

  Chapter 22

  Inter-Planetary Spaceport

  Ben was waiting for us on the other side of the security checkpoint. ‘Welcome aboard,’ he said.

  ‘It’s an honour to meet you, Captain,’ said Peg, shaking Ben’s hand. ‘I’ve read about your missions.’

  ‘Call me Ben, please. Come on, I’ll show you to your quarters.’

  The central section of the spaceport was spherical and the corridors were coiled and twisted like intestines. I quickly became disoriented. Peg, I noticed, was looking around carefully.

  ‘It’s like a rabbit warren,’ I said.

  ‘It is a bit,’ said Ben. ‘Don’t worry. There will be an induction at nine in the morning for all new employees. And I’ll give you a map. You’d be surprised how quickly you’ll learn your way around. Within a week you’ll know this place like the back of your hand.’

  A week was too long.

  We got into the lift down to the deck below. ‘Civilian living quarters are down on B Deck,’ said Ben. ‘The berthing areas are pretty basic, but you’ll only use it for sleeping and washing.’

  We reached a door, which Ben opened with a swipe card. ‘This is your berthing area, Eden,’ said Ben. ‘Men and women have opposite sides of the passageway.’

  He held the door open for me. Peg waited outside. Inside was a wall of tiny sleeping areas, no larger than coffins, stacked from the floor to the ceiling. On the wall opposite was a row of lockers.

  ‘Like I said, nothing special,’ said Ben. ‘Choose a rack. You’re the first of the new arrivals to get here.’

  I placed my bag on the lowest rack.

  Ben handed me a map. ‘This will help you find your way around. Downstairs you’ll find the library, gymnasium, cinema, stores, canteen and bar. Up on A Deck, where you arrived, are the landing bay, security and temporary accommodation for visitors. Also the Space Bar and the Officers’ Club.’

  I decided to risk a question. ‘So a ship travelling to the moon would stop here and the people on board would sleep in the temporary accommodation upstairs?’

  Ben nodded. ‘Maybe. Depends on their schedule.’

  ‘What about prisoners?’ I asked.

  ‘Prisoners would be taken to the holding cell on A Deck.’

  ‘When will Ryan’s ship arrive?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning. They’ll dock at eleven and leave at two.’

  ‘I thought they got to stay overnight?’

  ‘No. This is an expedited transfer. Ryan will only be aboard the spaceport for three hours. Long enough for the prison transport to refuel and for a crew change. I’ll do my best to arrange for you to see him, Eden, but I can’t promise anything.’

  He opened the door back into the hallway where Peg was waiting.

  ‘Pegasus, your berthing area is directly across from Eden’s,’ said Ben. ‘I’d be delighted if the two of you would join me at my table for dinner tonight in the Officers’ Club on A Deck. Shall we say seven o’clock?’

  ‘We’ll be there,’ I said, waving the map, ‘so long as we can find it.’

  ‘We don’t have much time,’ said Peg quietly, as soon as Ben had left. ‘It’s nearly five o’clock now. Dinner with Ben at seven. That could run till nine. Then we have orientation at nine in the morning. Ry’s ship arrives at eleven. If we’re going to explore this spaceport before he gets here, it’s going to have to be at night.’

  ‘I think Ben’s trying to help us, Peg. He told me what time Ryan’s ship will arrive and the time the prison ship will leave. He told me that Ryan would be escorted to the holding cell on A Deck.’

  Peg shook his head. ‘I think you’re wrong. Ben’s the captain of this spaceport. Anything that goes wrong is going to reflect badly on him. I think he’s deliberately trying to keep us busy.’

  The Officers’ Club had a very different feel to the rest of the spaceport. Where the other rooms were bare and functional – all metal and strip lights – the club was wood-panelled with dim lighting. The captain’s table, which was covered with a heavy, white tablecloth and laid with silver cutlery, was placed next to a large window that looked out into the darkness. Through the window, more stars than I had ever seen made patterns in the sky, their light brighter and steadier than they were on Earth. The bright blue glow of the Earth was just beyond the reach of the window.

  Ben was already seated when we arrived, as was another man, younger than Ben, dressed in a smart uniform covered with insignias and badges.

  Both men stood as we approached. Ben made all the introductions.

  ‘This is my first officer, Milo Jackson. This is Eden Anfield, a colleague from a time mission and her friend Pegasus Ryder.’

  We all shook hands and sat down. I was disappointed; I had hoped to probe Ben to see if there was any chance he would help us. With the first officer present we were going to have to be careful.

  Within seconds of sitting down, a waiter appeared with a bottle of champagne. Our glasses were filled and Ben proposed a toast.

  ‘To old friends,’ he said. ‘And new beginnings.’

  We clinked glasses, the pleasant tinkling throwing me back to a different time, when Ryan and I had sat on a beach with glasses of champagne, toasting his return to 2012. Then it had seemed as if we had for ever stretching ahead of us. We’d had just six days. I pretended to sip my champagne, but I swallowed nothing. If Peg and I were going to come up with a plan, we needed to keep our wits about us.

  ‘As first officer, I am in charge of the welfare of all the crew aboard this spaceport,’ Milo was saying. ‘Since you are good friends of the captain, I will take a personal interest in your careers. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to assist you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Peg with a broad smile. ‘I was training to be an engineer back on Earth. I worked in the repair yard in Lakeborough. Shuttles mainly. I’d love to get back into that field again if any openings become available.’

  This was clearly an area of interest to Milo Jackson. While the soup – something green and minty – was served and eaten, they talked about different classes of shuttles, favourite ships, engines, fuel efficiency, the virtues of Icelandic engineering over Burmese.

  ‘We have a small shipyard on the spaceport,’ said Milo. ‘Perhaps, after we finish dinner, I could show you around it.’

  The main course was served, a savoury pancake filled with green sludge I now knew was a popular seaweed, served with carrots and cauliflower on the side.

  ‘Is all the food transported by ship?’ I asked. ‘It must be very expensive.’

  ‘Much of our food comes on supply ships,’ said Ben. ‘But on the lowest deck of the spaceport we have a large hothouse for growing fruit and vegetables. The sun’s energy keeps it at a constant temperature. It supplies ninety per cent of our produce.’

  ‘We even have an artificial sea,’ said the first officer. ‘It’s small of course, but large enough to grow seaweed. Our kelp grows at an average of two metres a day.’

  ‘That’s incredible,’ I said.

  ‘Kelp is one of the fastest growing plants in the world,’ said Ben. ‘But it does especially well here on the spaceport.’

  I had nothing against seaweed in general – but the fishy green sludge on my plate was not remotely appetising.

  ‘After your induction tomorrow, I can give you a tour of the spaceport,’ said Milo.

  I smiled, but that was the last thing we needed. Peg and I had little enough time to devise an escape plan and put it into action.

  ‘Are there any time-ships docked at the spaceport?’ I asked.

  ‘Time-ships go straight to Earth,’ said Ben, catching my eye. ‘Most of the ships that dock here are shuttles and cargo ships.’

  ‘That’s too bad,’ I said. ‘The o
nly time-ship I’ve ever seen is the one I travelled on.’

  ‘Four-dimensional travel is very dangerous,’ said Ben. ‘You’re best off staying well away from it.’

  ‘If Admiral Wolfe wins the presidency of the Space and Time Institute, all time-ships will be decommissioned,’ said Peg. ‘There will be no more time travel.’

  Ben shook his head. ‘That would be a great pity. I believe there’s a place for carefully regulated time travel.’

  ‘Talking of Westland,’ said the first officer through a mouthful of green sludge, ‘weren’t you involved with his son?’ He was looking at me.

  I shrugged. ‘We knew each other. We were friends. Nothing more.’

  ‘But on the news they said . . .’

  ‘All lies,’ I said, reaching across the table for Peg’s hand. ‘A way for Admiral Wolfe to discredit the Westland family.’

  I watched Milo Jackson notice our joined hands.

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ he said. ‘Wolfe is an ambitious man. He’ll stop at nothing to win the presidency and shut down Westland Shipyards. He’s even using the Westland boy’s transport to the moon as a campaign opportunity. He’s coming along himself, together with his son and a host of reporters.’

  ‘Really?’ I said, feigning surprise. ‘I don’t suppose I would be allowed on board to say goodbye to him?’

  ‘I doubt that very much,’ said the first officer. ‘Tight security. Admiral Wolfe wouldn’t allow it.’

  After dessert and coffee, Peg went off with Milo Jackson for a quick tour of the shipyard. Ben walked me back to my quarters.

  ‘Eden,’ he said as we took the lift down to B Deck. ‘I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but I hope you don’t think you can rescue Ryan. It’s not possible. The spaceport has tight security and if you were caught trying something, security would shoot first and ask questions later.’

  ‘I understand. I’m not trying anything.’

  He placed a hand on my shoulder. ‘You can make a good life here. Work your way up. Make good money.’

  ‘That’s all I want,’ I said. ‘To live a good life.’