by M. D. Cooper
What is his name? Hancock? Hagley? Harmon? Hart? Hart.
That was it. He clearly knew exactly who she was, judging by the beeline he was making for her.
“Hello,” Hart said as he reached Isa’s table. “Nice to see you again.”
“Hi. What a coincidence.”
“Yes. Are you with a client?”
“No. I’m just here to relax. I quit my job.”
“You did?” he asked, his eyebrows creeping up his forehead. “I wondered if you were taking a client on an excursion like you did with me. That was a good idea, by the way. It was fun, even if the trip was cut short by that fault on the maglev. So you quit, did you?”
“I did.”
There was an awkward pause.
“Would you like to join me?” Isa asked, somewhat reluctantly.
Hart was a nice enough man, but she didn’t feel any particular connection with him. He seemed like he needed someone to talk to, though, and it wasn’t like she had an urgent appointment to keep.
“I’d love to.”
The ex-client settled himself down next to her, also facing the busy park that spread out before them. He rested his ankle on the knee of the other leg. “Nice day.”
“Every day’s a nice day around here,” said Isa.
It was true. The FGT had set up the climate to be pleasant and balmy all year round.
“So,” she went on, “I’m guessing that, as you’re sitting here with another citizen who has time on her hands, you didn’t decide what you want to do yet?”
“No, I haven’t. I’m still considering my options.”
“There’s certainly a lot of them. Maybe that’s part of the problem.”
Hart nodded, but didn’t reply. Watching him from the corner of her eye, Isa noticed there was something different about the man compared to the last time she’d met him. Or perhaps she’d been too focused on doing her job to see him as he really was. He appeared…she struggled to put her finger on it…uncomfortable. Yet she didn’t think his demeanor had anything to do with her. He’d chosen to come over and sit with her, after all. He could have easily pretended not to notice her and gone in another direction.
She changed her mind. Hart wasn’t uncomfortable. He was struggling with something. It was like he wanted to do or say something, but couldn’t for some reason.
“You know,” she said, wondering if she’d regret making the offer. “I’m not giving advice for a living any longer, but if you ever want any guidance with your decision, or suggestions, I’m happy to help. Or I can just listen, if you only want to talk.”
Hart’s head snapped around toward her. He looked startled and a little afraid.
“You can always contact me,” said Isa. “You can find me on the Link.”
“Thanks,” he replied stiffly, “but I don’t think that’ll be necessary. You seem to have the wrong idea about me. I’m fine. I don’t need your help.” He got up and stalked away without saying goodbye.
Isa wondered what had gotten into the man. She’d only been trying to be kind. She gave a mental shrug. Hart was no longer her client. Maybe someone else at Placement Services could help him.
She drained her coffee and left the café, intending to walk around the edge of Party Field to stretch her legs. She’d barely gone a few steps before a child ran full pelt into her. The boy’s head had been facing backward, watching his friend, who was chasing him, and Isa had no time to move out of his way.
The child collided with her legs and bounced to the ground. He began to sob, though Isa guessed it was from shock, as the thick grass would have cushioned his fall. She looked around for the boy’s parent or tutor, but no adults seemed to be watching him. Even his little friend had run away.
She squatted down. “Are you OK?”
The boy shook his head vigorously. His shoulders rounded over, and he buried his face in his hands.
It looked like his crying wasn’t going to let up any time soon. People had begun to glance over curiously.
Isa said to the kid, “You’re so lucky. I wish I could have fallen down right there like you did.”
The sobbing paused. The boy looked up. “Why?”
“Just imagine, where you’re sitting could be where people stepped onto Carthage for the very first time.”
His eyes becoming round, he stared at the grass next to him. “Really?”
“Yes. Didn’t you know?”
A look of wonder on his face, the boy shook his head, his tears forgotten.
“Do you want me to tell you about it?”
A slow nod.
Isa sat in the long grass and proceeded to relate—in words the boy would understand—the story of the party for ten thousand people from the Intrepid. Just as she was getting into it, the boy’s tutor ran up, relieved to have finally found her charge.
When the woman saw what was happening, she told Isa to carry on. She then brought over the other children who were with her and sat them down to listen. By the time Isa ran out of things to say, fifteen boys and girls were sitting around her.
She told the children what food the partiers had eaten and the drinks they drank. She told them how the celebration had lasted all night and into the next day. She even made up some stories about the famous people who had been there and what they had said and done.
“That was marvelous,” the tutor said when Isa finally ran out of ideas. “Have you considered going into teaching? You’re a natural.”
“Teaching?”
It was a career possibility that had never crossed Isa’s mind. She just smiled and shrugged; the tutor thanked her and ushered the children away, leaving Isa alone in her patch of grass.
Canaan Prime was in the lower quarter of the sky, and the air was cooling. She got to her feet, deciding it was time to head back to her apartment. As she was exiting the park, Murry contacted her over the Link.
She had put the request in on a whim the evening before she’d quit her job. The unexpected events of the following morning had driven it from her mind.
She wasn’t sure she was still interested in meeting anyone; her lack of a job seemed a more pressing issue. But it wouldn’t hurt to find out more.
PLANET HOPPER
STELLAR DATE: 11.28.8935 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Landfall, Knossos Island
REGION: Carthage, 3rd Planet in the New Canaan System
Beck Marsden couldn’t wait to take his new four-seater planet hopper out for a test drive, but he didn’t want to do it alone.
What would be the point of that? He thought while cleaning up his lunch dishes. This sleek, speedy bird was built for showing off to your buddies.
It had taken a lot of arm-twisting to nab one of the first off the production line. If he hadn’t known the owner of Carthage’s first private spaceship manufacturing plant, he wouldn’t have stood a chance. Not that he’d managed to haggle a discount on the eye-watering amount of credits it had cost…. So taking the ship on its first spin all alone would be a total waste of all that effort and money.
But who to invite to come along?
Art and Kris would take two seats, of course. The three of them had been best pals since kindergarten, and had applied together to leave Sol.
The remaining seat was the problem.
Beck had made plenty of new friends while working on the city’s maglev lines—all great guys and girls—but none stood out.
As he sprawled on his sofa, he went through a mental list.
Kathy? No, she was a little too quiet and serious. She probably wouldn’t be interested in planet diving. Matt? Beck
remembered he was working overtime that day. Noam? Noam might want to come, and he thought she might be interested in him. It would be the perfect opportunity to get to know her a little better.
He tried to contact her over the Link.
An ‘asleep’ signal flashed in response. Really? It was early afternoon. Noam must have been out partying all night.
Then he had it. Donnie. Donnie was fun to have around, always cracking jokes.
Beck sent the mental equivalent of a shrug.
Donnie sputtered.
Beck contacted Art and Kris and told them the good news. Predictably, they also didn’t hesitate to accept his invitation. He settled back to wait for his friends to arrive, his face bearing a wide grin. Telling them about his new vehicle had been entertaining, but not as much fun as the afternoon promised to be.
While he waited, he imagined flying the BlazeRay way up into the outer atmosphere, where they could see the curve of Carthage far below. Then he imagined diving down at a dizzying speed. They would drop like a stone, or a hawk dive-bombing its prey. At the very last minute, he would hit the controls to lift the ship’s nose, and after almost kissing the ground, they would curve away to safety.
Who would break first and show fear? Who would be first to yell, ‘Pull up, pull up!’?
Beck smirked. It was going to be a fun afternoon.
* * * * *
Captain Dunworthy of the Holgate stretched and relaxed while stifling a yawn. He glanced around the shuttle’s cockpit, ensuring all was in readiness for take-off. He couldn’t wait to get planetside after the latest long tour on the aging ship he commanded, but it wasn’t a good idea to show his eagerness to the crew. Endlessly transporting raw materials across the system wasn’t the most glamorous of work, and knowing their captain was as weary of it as they were wouldn’t help.
He’d worked hard to get to his current position, yet now that he’d made it, he wasn’t sure the effort was worth the reward.
It didn’t help that he’d been given what had to be the oldest vessel of the merchant fleet, and its shuttle was no younger. Though the Holgate had been new when the Intrepid had departed the Sol System, she had seen constant use during the long stay at Victoria. Eight decades of use in building that colony had taken its toll on the ship.
He wasn’t sure the old girl was up to building another.
It was a shame that the rejuvenation treatment that could set him back to a youthful state when he needed it wouldn’t work on spaceships. Even a full refit likely wouldn’t fix the problems that plagued the Holgate. If it wasn’t the Link, it was the navigation. If it wasn’t the navigation, it was the door mechanisms. If it wasn’t the—
“Twenty minutes to landing,” said the shuttle’s pilot.
“Thanks, Marcia,” Dunworthy replied. “Looking forward to getting back to your garden?”
“Am I,” she replied. “I hate to think what’s happened to it while I’ve been gone. The tomatoes were just beginning to ripen when we left. They’re probably all finished now, and I didn’t get to try even one.”
“Maybe you’ll manage to grow something else during our shore leave.”
“Yeah, maybe. I think I need to pick a different crop. Something that grows faster.”
“Damn, it’s gone again,” said Alma, the comm officer.
“What’s that?” Dunworthy asked.
“Sorry, sir,” Alma said. “It’s the Link. It’s down again.”
“Again? I thought the engineers from the Resolution finally fixed that for us.”
“They fixed it on the Holgate,” the comms officer emphasized, then gestured to the shuttle bay outside the shuttle’s front window. “I’m not sure they took a look at the shuttles. Oh, it’s OK. it’s back.”
“Good,” Dunworthy said. “Let’s hope it lasts until we land. Then I’ll put in for a complete overhaul.”
Marcia gave him an uncertain look. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with taking her down if the Link isn’t stable. If there were an emergency, and I didn’t hear about it…”
Deep down, Dunworthy knew his pilot was right. But he was tired and longing to see a blue sky again after weeks in the black. Ignoring protocol wouldn’t hurt just this once.
What are the chances that something disastrous will happen, and the shuttle will lose the Link at the exact same time? It has to be in the trillions—especially since it only just happened on the Holgate.
“It’ll be fine,” he decided. “Just get us down. The transports are backed up; if we don’t take this thing down, we could be up here waiting for days.”
Marcia cast Alma a pained look, and then the two women nodded. “OK…I suppose you’re right.”
Once the ship had landed, they would forget about a little rule-bending.
“Twenty-seven minutes to touch-down,” Marcia said as the shuttle lifted off the cradle in the Holgate’s small docking bay.
* * * * *
Slipping into the pilot’s seat of his new spaceship, Beck luxuriated at the soft, comfortable feel. The specially contoured, reactive material hugged his body like a lover spooning him. The oooohs and aaahhhs of his companions told him they felt the same.
“Buckle up, guys,” he said, pulling on the retracted safety straps. The straps snaked from their receptacles at his touch, and snapped their locks together at his midriff.
“Awww,” Donnie said. “Do we have to? I prefer being loose and easy, if you know what I mean.” He waggled his eyebrows at Kris and Art, who guffawed.
“I hope I don’t, Donnie,” Beck replied, laughing. “And I don’t want to find out. Strap in, fella. I aim to find out exactly what this bird can do. So unless you wanna be crawling on the ceiling while I pull some sweet gs…”
“Hey, Beck,” said Kris, “Can we all have a turn flying? I’ve never flown a planet hopper before.”
“What?” Beck replied in mock incredulity. “Let you get your clumsy paws on my pride and joy? Save up and buy your own.” An idea popped into his head, and he gasped at the exciting realization. “Then we can have races!”
“Whoa,” said Art. “You just blew my mind.”
Beck started up the BlazeRay’s engine. The control panel’s holodisplay flickered to life, and his heart sped up. This was it. From the awed silence in the cabin, Beck guessed his friends felt the same thrill.
He lifted the ship from the pad on his apartment building’s roof, and checked the readouts. Everything seemed to be working. The ship’s Link initiated the connection to his mind, and Beck was integrated. His heartbeat surged even faster. He and the ship were one.
de over his Link to the ship, and then spotting it, continued, <928-GHK. Sorry, I just took delivery today.>
Beck hadn’t expected the Landfall ATC to be so particular about small craft. His prior flight experience was doing light dives over Eris from Korda Station; no one there had worried much about flight plans for skiffs like this. Given that there were only a quarter million people living on Carthage, he’d expected things to be even more lax.
“Come on, Beck,” Kris interrupted. “What’s the holdup?”
“Wait a sec. I’m just talking to air traffic control.” He’d been a little annoyed by the controller’s interruption, but now self-importance trumped his irritation. “I have to tell them my flight plan.”
“OK, guys,” he said. “We’re all set.”
Beck maneuvered the BlazeRay off the building’s roof. It floated like a feather on an updraft above the streets below. The ship was so responsive, he felt he could have controlled it with his breath. Normally that would be a bad thing, but with the anti-gravity systems, the ship held perfectly steady after every adjustment.