“You’re pretty streetwise for an NC girl,” Zara said.
“I like to live on the wild side,” Anna-Nicole replied. “NC to NYC,” she grinned. Wearing her Yankees beanie hat, she seemed right at home. Her red hair flowed from beneath the hat down and over her shoulders.
“I think I have family here somewhere,” Mikayla said. Her attractive African-American features and impeccably-curled hair had not gone unnoticed by some of the young male riders. “I should look them up some time.”
“Why do they save the clean trains for Brooklyn?” Zara said. “It’s almost like they want to put people off from coming here, but once they’re here, they want them to feel right at home.”
“Probably because most of the MTA cleaners live in the outer boroughs?” Mikayla offered.
“True—taking care of their own,” Zara said. “They probably resent the moneyed crowd, and I can’t really say I blame them. I’m kinda surprised they haven’t all been replaced by robots now, though. Maybe the unions are stopping it.”
The train rumbled on under the streets, station by station. “Alright, Fifty-third Street. Let’s go,” Anna-Nicole said at last. They piled off the train and headed up the escalator. Once they were out in the open air, it seemed like a different world. Gone were the glittering skyscrapers, and in their place were four-story brownstones and run-down storefronts.
People of all colors walked by, not looking up. The smells from at least six ethnic takeouts tempted their nostrils. As she looked around, Zara noticed the top of the two kilometer-tall Manhattan Interchange in the distance—its tiny appearance seemed to mock them for making such a journey.
“I cut class for this?” Zara said, adjusting her scarf again to make sure the lower half of her face was covered.
“It’ll be worth it. She’s the best there is,” Anna-Nicole replied, phone in hand. “This way.” They walked south two blocks and then east two blocks. They stopped in front of a four-story row house. Its once white paint was now faded and peeling and its small yard was unkempt.
“Welcome to the home of Madam Fake-ID,” Anna-Nicole said, “although it won’t say that on the doorbell.” She climbed the steps and pushed the third button up. A second later, the buzzer sounded and they entered. The stairs were hardwood, covered by a very tattered turquoise carpet, and the walls were a faded, pale yellow, bearing the scrapes of many tenants moving in and out. Three flights of stairs later, they came to an anonymous brown door. It was opened by a thin Eastern European woman with long, black hair. “Come in,” she said. They walked into an apartment that was reasonably well-kept, if tired and old-fashioned. A young black man sat at a computer in one corner. He smiled and nodded to them.
“Bryan Eastwood sent us,” Anna-Nicole said. “I know him from school—I’m doing political science at Columbia.”
“Yes, he told me he’d referred you,” Madam Fake-ID said. “As you probably know, I do a lot more than fake IDs.”
“We need complete disguises—well, she does, anyway,” she said, nodding at Zara.
Madam Fake-ID looked over at Zara. “I know you—Sasake-Robbins’s daughter.”
Zara nodded, in a manner that said, yeah, I get that a lot. “That’s exactly why I need a disguise.”
“And fake IDs,” Anna-Nicole added quickly.
“I can help you out,” Madam Fake-ID said. “As you know, IDs are extremely difficult to fake now, since they’re smart cards, and your picture appears the moment someone scans it. The catch is, the picture doesn’t come from the card. It comes from the state’s computer. Meet The Texinator.” She turned to the man at the computer, who flashed a toothy grin. “He’s our hacking expert and can defeat all the security measures in the cards, plus override the picture download. Don’t ask me how he does it.” She flipped a hand playfully in his direction.
“The disguise is my specialty,” she continued. “I’ll take a 3D scan of your face and make a new, living face for you that sits seamlessly on top of your own. It’s a combination of nanorobotics and silicone that follows your facial movements. It even passes sensations through to your skin’s nerve endings.” The girls nodded, impressed.
The Texinator took Anna-Nicole and Mikayla’s pictures and then went to work. Zara’s would have to wait until after she was wearing her disguise. A 3D printer hummed as the new cards were manufactured with precise layers of nanoelectronics. Meanwhile, he tapped away on an interface to begin the hacking. Madam Fake-ID took Zara into a bedroom that was already set up for her work, had her sit down, and began running a medical-grade laser scanner over her face. Once that was done, Zara rejoined the others in the living room.
“It’s going to take a couple of hours, so you girls can go and amuse yourselves here in beautiful Sunset Park if you want,” she said.
“No, thanks, we’ll stay here,” Anna-Nicole said quickly. They took out their phones to pass the time.
“Oh, and you do know my fees, right?” Madam Fake-ID asked. “Five thousand each for the IDs, and twenty thousand for the disguise.”
“Yes—I have the money right here,” Zara said.
Two hours later, Madam Fake-ID emerged from the bedroom, solemnly bearing a small box. “Here it is! Go ahead and try it on, dear.” Zara gingerly picked up the somewhat floppy mask. It matched her skin tone exactly. “Put it on.” She slowly put it on her face. As she did, it came to life and molded itself to her every pore.
“Whoa!”
“Oh, my God!” the other girls said simultaneously. “Look in the mirror!” Zara didn’t recognize the person looking back at her. Gone were her high cheekbones and chiseled nose. Her cheeks were now slightly pudgier, her nose a little larger, and her eyes less slanted. It wasn’t a complete change, but it was enough to stop her being recognized. Once her ID was made, they paid Madam Fake-ID and left.
The sun was lower in the sky, but still somewhat warm, when they stepped back out into the street. They headed back towards the subway station, at the busy intersection. Zara suddenly stopped. “Whoa!”
“What?”
“I’m not looking around all the time, worrying about being recognized!” Zara said joyfully. “This is the freest I’ve felt in months! Let’s go and grab some pizza at one of these little neighborhood places—just because I can!”
After eating the greasiest, cheesiest pizza slices any of them had ever had, they jumped back on the subway to Manhattan, in a jubilant mood.
“I can’t believe I can get into clubs now!” Mikayla said as they rode beneath Brooklyn.
“Meet Anna-Nicole Hardwick, twenty-one years of age!” she grinned from beneath her Yankees hat, flashing her new ID proudly.
Zara spoke next: “Now, only one thing left to do: paint the town red!”
“Hell, yeah!” Anna-Nicole replied.
This is it, Zara thought. Time to live it up. And try and forget about Dad’s leaving.
Chapter 5
The shuttle craft’s internal lights were all switched off. Only the outline of the pilot’s face could be seen in the soft ambient light of the cockpit, which came from various displays and switches. A 3D image of the giant craft in front of them was projected in mid-air behind the windshield, though the craft was invisible: they were still in complete darkness on the night side of Earth.
Kato was the only passenger, sitting aft of the pilot. All was silent, except for the hum of air circulation systems. Kato had medicated his space sickness before leaving Earth, and now they just waited—the entire formation traveling at twenty-eight thousand kilometers per hour, and yet seeming motionless to the occupants.
Presently, the first rays of sun began to peek out from behind the Earth. Kato watched as the structure before them was gradually illuminated. The silver surfaces of Eternity’s reactors, truss structures, and pressurized sphere burned with orange from the sunrise as the brightening light moved down the ship. A fleet of silver, multi-tentacled robots snaked their way around, completing the transparent sphere at the nose, one molten dro
p of glass at a time. The craft, already resembling its final shape, was resplendent before them. For Kato, the experience was profound, and his eyes began to tear up. The true magnitude of what he was going to do set in. Man’s other nearby accomplishments in space—the ISS2, and the other parts of the Near-Earth Complex—held no sway for him. He had eyes only for Eternity.
Kato held his phone up to the window, switched it to use its rear camera, and held his finger over the icon to dial Zara. Then he hesitated, afraid of her reaction. He thought for a second and determined that he must communicate with her, even if it was uncomfortable and awkward. He touched the icon. It rang and rang, but she never picked up. Kato felt slightly relieved that he didn’t have to deal with her, but then felt guilty about this reaction. Next, he dialed James. He picked up. Kato remained deliberately silent, letting the view outside speak for itself as he panned along the length of the ship.
“Dude…” James said, in awe, after several seconds. Neither man said anything else for at least two minutes.
Zara, Mikayla, and Anna-Nicole were beautiful and dressed to the nines in white outfits by Chanel and Dior. The location of the club was a closely guarded secret. They exited their limo a discreet distance away and walked to its Manhattan basement entrance. They descended five nondescript stone steps. At first, no one seemed to be there. They looked at each other uncertainly. Then, a beefy black bouncer in a tuxedo stepped out from the shadows. “Good evening, ladies,” he said with an inquiring expression, giving away nothing about what lay beyond the door. The ball was in their court.
Zara removed her disguise. His expression changed to a warm smile. “Welcome, Miss Sasake-Robbins,” he said. He nodded graciously and opened the black door, which had been all but invisible in the shadows, with a slight bow.
The girls entered a dark space. It was large but was purposely designed to feel small and cozy. There was a neon-blue bar to the left, whose counter was lit from within. The dance floor in the center was surrounded by a holographic wireframe display of the city at night. Zara recognized at least half the patrons: movie stars, singers, princes, and princesses among them. Faces turned their way with looks of recognition, as one of the richest women in the world had just entered. The young and beautiful welcomed them. Princess Saniya of Jordan bought them drinks.
“Get used to this, girls,” Zara said to Mikayla and Anna-Nicole. They were too dazzled to say anything.
The DJ, in his small booth at the front of the dance floor, nodded and smiled at them as he spun an entrancing mix of mid-twenty-first century club tunes, spliced with some from the early part of the century. Zara almost immediately began to feel warm and woozy from the vodka.
Having developed a taste for club music, she recognized one of the oldies. The stuttering lyrics “You… are… made… of… sun…” came through, spliced with hypnotic, reverberating beats. Sun, she thought. The word triggered memories of tropical vacations, but also the vastness of the cosmos. Did she think too much? Was this to do with having been emotionally scarred? Why was she thinking about space instead of just having a good time? Despite feeling buzzed, Zara also felt irritated with herself. Why on earth couldn’t she just be like these people, living in the moment, without a care in the world?
Three years had passed since the TAON Foundation had announced the mission of Eternity, and two years until her launch. The balding Seung Yi puffed on his cigar, wearing a smug expression. “Panama’s finest, you know?” he said to Wen Hai, his second-in-command, as they stood just offstage in a studio of one of Seung’s main TV stations in Beijing.
“I can’t stand cigars,” Hai replied. Seung Yi smiled. “You look like you’re about to board a yacht,” Hai continued, referring to Seung’s crisp white suit and black collared shirt.
“Well, we can’t let Kato have all the glory, can we?” Seung’s eyes were as lifeless as a shark’s.
“Of course not.”
“Okay. Let’s get this show on the road.” Seung Yi’s manner changed from relaxed to focused. He purposefully stubbed out his cigar and strode onto the stage to applause from the gathered audience. Cameras flashed and his image appeared on screens around the world. A hush ensued as he began to speak.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this current age of technology has ushered in new opportunities for exploration,” he began. “Spaceships are no longer a novelty, but a necessity…” He droned on in this fashion for five minutes. He has no idea how to engage an audience, Wen Hai thought.
Seung Yi continued, “And now, it is my great pleasure to unveil the next chapter in the human story. MX9 Robotics will build and launch, at its own expense, a crewed spaceship to explore the moons of Jupiter. I now present to the world, the spaceship Dawn.” At this point, his image shrunk to a corner of the screen. It was replaced by a glittering spaceship, with the reddish-brown striped clouds of Jupiter in the background. The camera flashes reached fever pitch. The Internet lit up, and people everywhere stopped to listen.
“She will use mass driver engines,” Seung said, “the same technology found on the International Mars Explorer II, to reach speeds unheard of in manned spaceflight. A crew of ten will fly her to Jupiter in around six months. Then, they will conduct a grand tour of its satellites: Europa, Io, Ganymede, and Callisto, to name only the most famous. Scientific studies will be conducted of all of these bodies, and then, if it is deemed safe, manned landings will be attempted. On this voyage, humans will touch more worlds than in all of history combined. Samples will be collected, experiments conducted and left behind, and probes launched.
“After the crew has spent four years orbiting around Jupiter, the ship’s great power will be used once again for the journey home. Dawn will dock with the ISS2, and the greatest scientific treasures in history will be brought to Earth, for the benefit of all mankind…”
Chapter 6
A meeting was in progress at the TAON foundation, near Houston, when everybody in the room’s phones lit up with the same message: “Turn on the TV, NOW!” They did so, on one of the inward-sloping walls of the boardroom, in time for the middle of the press conference. Dawn was already on the screen. “The cost of this mission will not be less than one point five trillion yuan, or two hundred and fifty billion dollars…” Seung’s talking head continued. “I, Seung Yi, will be one of the crew.”
“What in God’s name?” Kato exclaimed. He and the others present stared open-mouthed at the vision before them.
“Rewind it,” Kato said. They watched the broadcast over again from the beginning, trying to take it all in and grasp the implications.
“Real science or a vanity mission?” propulsion specialist Oleg Alexandrov said, at length, after they had watched the entire thing over again.
“Knowing him, I’d have to say it’s a vanity mission,” Kato replied, “but what a way to make a statement! Holy cow! Two hundred and fifty billion dollars! That’s twice what I’m spending!”
“Unreal,” Irina said, shaking her head. “Does this affect our mission in any way?”
“I don’t think so,” Kato replied. “Our construction is so far along now that I don’t think there will be a shortage of materials, labor, or cargo transportation before we’re done. It’ll take at least five years to build and launch that thing—assuming it isn’t already half-built in some secret location!”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Oleg replied, referring to China’s deft hand in sending its own landing craft to Mars ahead of the first international mission, many decades before.
“There’s no way he could have done that,” Irina said. “He would need a huge secret orbital construction site, and there isn’t one. Somebody would have noticed.”
Ethan Cooke, the head of structural engineering, spoke up: “Rewind it again and let’s look at its design.” The broadcast was rewound and paused at a suitable point. Dawn had an array of eight engines, which looked like hexagonal blocks roughly four times as long as they were wide. These were held apart by spacers. Forward of
these were four huge spherical silver tanks that flanked a long white triangulated truss. This led to the forward section, shaped much like an enormous bullet—roughly six times as long as it was wide. The rear half of this was polished metal, and the front section completely transparent. It was the front that interested them the most: after continuing some distance as a straight glass tube, its walls curved in to form a rounded cone, like the pointed end of an egg. Around this section were two glass rings, offset from the body like haloes: a larger one to the rear and a smaller one towards the nose. These were connected to the body by five tubular spokes, which were of a slightly smaller diameter than the haloes.
“Those rings are habitable space,” Oleg said as he pointed to the haloes. “There are no dimensions given, but I would say the main body is perhaps fifteen to twenty meters wide. That makes it, say, a hundred meters long.”
“Well, let’s rotate it, so we can see it side on,” Kato said. “Assuming those are standard mass drivers, eighteen meters long, we can scale everything from those.” They did so, and soon had the rough size of the ship.
“Nearly two hundred meters long, including the truss and reactors!” Oleg said. “Impressive!”
“Looks like you were pretty close on the main body, Oleg,” Ethan said. “One hundred ten by eighteen meters.”
Kato sat back and folded his arms, not saying anything for a while. Others were also in deep thought.
“Wow… that is one audacious design,” Kato said at last. “It’s an aesthetic masterpiece.”
“Yeah… space architecture’s come along by leaps and bounds since we developed the technology to make virtually any shape in orbit out of carbon glass,” Irina said.
Oleg stroked his goatee thoughtfully and squinted at the screen. “Been looking at those engines. They’re slightly thinner than usual. They might be the mass driver E model—only a tenth of the normal thrust, but unbelievably efficient—even compared to regular nuclear-thermal. If that’s the case, they output half a ton of thrust each, so eight times that is four tons. Not a lot for a ship that probably weighs at least four thousand tons. The thrust-to-weight ratio’s microscopic—the same as Eternity—but get this: with the amount of propellant in those huge tanks, her engines can burn for years! That thing’s probably capable of an astounding twelve hundred kilometers a second delta-V!” There were goose bumps all around the table.
Zara's Flight: Book One of the Kato's War series Page 2