“Um, we have to be, don’t we ma’am?”
“We’re supposed to be. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t check to be sure that we are!” Levon snapped crossly, “If we need to modify our orbit, the sooner we start, the less reaction mass we’ll have to use.” She settled back on her rest. With nothing else to think about, her mind focused back on the oppressive heat. Of course the heat was still present. Transition would place them the same distance from the gravitational center of Obi as they’d been from their own sun before transition. She luffed her wings irritably. Having thought of the oppressive heat, now she felt like she could feel the radiation from this new star sleeting through her.
Levon reminded herself that their orbit was quickly moving the ship away from perihelion and they’d be cooling soon.
It didn’t help…
***
Raleigh, North Carolina—Yesterday large numbers of people poured out of GSI’s temporary headquarters in Raleigh to watch a space-suited figure descend from the sky. Many initially appeared to believe that it was some kind of publicity stunt, after all, thrust-disc harnesses capable of lifting someone into the air have been available—at GSI, though nowhere else—for some time now. Although they can’t generally be obtained by the public, no one would have been surprised to find that GSI itself was using them. However, it shortly became evident that people were seeing a mannequin in a spacesuit which had actually descended all the way from GSI’s habitat out in low Earth orbit. Though the descent had taken several hours, GSI reported that the mannequin suffered no damage during its return to Earth. Recordings made by instruments mounted in the mannequin confirmed that a human would have survived the trip unharmed.
GSI has all of its orbital employees wearing their skin-tights, a form of spacesuit, at all times. They keep helmets for the suits in many locations about their habitats and saucers. Now GSI reports that it plans to outfit all of its astronaut-employees with new thrust harnesses like the one that lowered the mannequin. They emphasize, however, that the harnesses are not intended to be a means by which people might descend from orbit in anything but in extreme emergencies.
One cannot help but think, however, that knowing you could descend to the planet’s surface in nothing but your space-suit would markedly ease one’s mind regarding the various catastrophes that might occur in space…
Nolan wandered in from the pool area to the clubhouse. Aaron was holding his party in the clubhouse at his apartment complex, which was much like the clubhouse at any other apartment complex Nolan had ever been to. He kept hoping he’d see more people he knew. So far, other than Aaron, Sophie and Ted—grad students who’d shared many of Nolan’s classes—he’d only been seeing people he vaguely recognized but didn’t know well.
He didn’t know any of them well enough to start a conversation.
Thinking that he might find somebody he knew in the crowd near the alcohol Nolan tossed back the last of his beer and headed for the kitchen and the keg. Once there, he again found only people whose faces he vaguely recognized. He chided himself for being too shy to start a conversation with someone he didn’t know, but knew that—no matter how much he scolded himself—he wasn’t suddenly going to gain the courage to begin speaking to strangers. Standing in line at the keg, he saw Sophie across the room. She was spiritedly arguing with several other people. He resolved to go try to join that conversation.
While he waited, Nolan glanced around the kitchen again, hoping vainly to see someone else he knew. His eye caught momentarily on the stunning girl standing behind him in line at the keg. What’s a gorgeous girl like her doing at a physics party? he wondered. Not that he considered it impossible, mind you, but the kind of people who were interested in physics seldom seem to invest much time in their appearance.
For a moment, his mind arrested on the dichotomous Tiona. Someone in physics who’d seemed to purposefully dress unattractively, but who, when she wanted to look good, could look even better than the beautiful girl standing behind him.
Nolan’s hindbrain searched for a reason to look back at the girl behind him again. A reason to provide his eyes the opportunity to appreciate the artistry and work the girl had put in to make herself look so good. His forebrain forcefully reminded him that she looked like an undergraduate. Someone many years his junior. A girl he shouldn’t be ogling.
There was a tap on his shoulder. Nolan ignored it for a second with the thought that he didn’t know anyone behind him. But then he realized that it provided his desired opportunity to look back in appreciation at the girl behind him. Turning, he lifted a querying eyebrow as he looked to see who might’ve tapped his shoulder.
The beautiful girl was just raising her hand, apparently to tap again. She dropped her hand, studied his face for a moment, then broke out a brilliant smile. “You’re Nolan Marlowe aren’t you?!” She looked nearly ecstatic.
For a few months after he and Tiona had returned from rescuing the astronauts, and again for a short while after they’d gone to Mars, Nolan had been recognized frequently. It’d happened almost enough to make it annoying. He’d even gotten a call from an agent in Hollywood asking if he’d ever thought about acting—which he had not. For a while Nolan had thought this would go on forever, but now, a few years later, his 15 minutes of fame had long since evaporated. Much as he wanted to think that recognition meant nothing to him, he still felt a warm feeling rush over him. Especially to be identified by someone this pretty. He nodded, “That’s me.”
Touching his arm and grinning like someone who’d won the lottery, she blurted rapid fire, “Oh! I’m so excited! Are you still in school? I thought you’d graduated.”
“Yeah,” Nolan shrugged, “I already graduated, but Aaron’s an old friend and he sent me an invitation. I thought I’d come help him celebrate.” He glanced around the room, “Not many people left that I know, so I’m feeling kind of old.”
Her eyes widened, then she beamed and gave him a conspiratorial look, “Well! We’ll just have to help you make some new friends then!” She put her hand on her chest, “I’m Carolyn.” She turned to the people behind her in the keg line, “Jimmy, Vivian, Edie! Look who’s in front of us! Nolan Marlowe!”
A few moments later, Nolan found himself shaking hands with all of them. Once they’d gotten their beers and moved out into the room, Carolyn proceeded to introduce him to an ever widening number of people, so many that he quickly lost track of names. She questioned him about the trips to Kadoma, the Moon and Mars, hanging on his every word. Not only excitedly listening herself, but drawing out his stories with perceptive questions and exclaiming on them to all her friends.
Her friends who seemed to fully populate the room. It seemed to Nolan that Carolyn knew everyone by name and that they all circled about her, captivated by her enthusiasm, her smile, and, no doubt, her good looks.
In one moment, when her attention wandered—drawn by one of her friends whispering in her ear—Nolan thought to himself, This is what charisma is. He’d met some people in the past who’d had more personality than average, but he’d never met anyone like Carolyn.
As the party wound down, Nolan found himself accompanying Carolyn to another party, this one inhabited by people more like Carolyn. Pretty; handsome; attractive; well-dressed; self-confident. Nolan knew he was fairly good-looking and at the physics party he’d thought of himself as one of the handsome ones.
At this party he felt like a three or a four.
On the other hand Carolyn remained the shining light. She was the beauty everyone else could aspire to but never achieve. Sometimes, when Nolan glanced quickly at her, he thought that perhaps she wasn’t truly beautiful. But then she’d smile, her eyes would sparkle, she’d say something witty—and everyone else dimmed by contrast.
At one point, Nolan realized he’d had more to drink and stayed out later than any ever before in his life.
In fact, he thought as he staggered outside, that red glow was most likely sunrise…
***
>
Harlan paused with the forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth. He looked back and forth between his daughter and his wife, “He’s what?”
Reven’s expression fluttered between apprehensive that Harlan might be angry and a teenager’s disbelief that her dad required explanation in detail of something perfectly obvious. She repeated herself, speaking more slowly as if Harlan was retarded, “He’s going to help me build a board with the new thrust discs under it. Since it won’t be using wheels, it’ll run smoothly even on rough ground.”
“Thrust discs?”
“Like from GSI. You know, the ones in the flying saucers. They’ll also be in the flying cars that have started coming out.”
Harlan slowly shook his head, “Those discs are way too big for a skateboard, besides they’re not available for just anybody to install in whatever they want. At least not yet.” He glanced at his wife again to see how she was taking this. She had a kind of smug look on her face that worried him.
Patiently, Reven said, “Like I said before, the Gettnors’ daughter is the one that invented the discs. He can get them any size he wants.”
Harlan glanced at his wife and she gave him a slow nod to confirm this astonishing claim. He turned back to his daughter, “New tech always costs a fortune. How are you going to pay for this?”
“He says he thinks it’ll be fun to make a fly-board. He’s got lots of money so he’s going to pay for the discs himself.” Reven tilted her head, “He thinks we might be able to sell the idea to GSI.”
Harlan’s eyes widened a little as he realized that GSI stood for Gettnor Space Industries. Why he hadn’t connected GSI with their new neighbors the Gettnors was a mystery, although virtually no one referred to the company by anything but its initials. Besides, who’d believe that the Gettnors on the farm next door were the same Gettnors who’d founded GSI! After a moment, Harlan almost plaintively asked, “Why would GSI buy the idea? They’ve got the thrusters.”
“He says, if the fly-board is fun, GSI could license the rights to build them to some other company.”
Harlan gradually put the forgotten forkful of eggs back on his plate. Suspiciously, he said, “Fly-board? You’re not thinking you could fly it… up in the air… are you?”
Reven swallowed uncomfortably, evidently worried that this might be a sticking point. “Well, it could. But the software could be set to limit how high it could go.” She shrugged, “You could set it so it wouldn’t go over 12 inches into the air if you wanted. Besides, Dr. Gettnor’s been talking about some kind of safety harness that would protect you even if it went really high.”
Harlan started shaking his head, but then to his surprise Clarice interjected, “Lisanne explained the safety harness to me. It’s essentially a weaker version of the one that was just in the news.” Evidently unsure whether Harlan had seen the story, she said, “The one that’ll lower someone all the way back to Earth from outer space?” At Harlan’s nod Clarice continued, “The harnesses sound pretty amazing, though I think we should make him show us how it’ll protect her before Reven even gets on any kind of fly-board.” She glanced at her daughter, “Even one that’s limited to a height of 12 inches would be dangerous if you got going very fast.”
***
Nolan cracked open an eye. The room was filled with brilliant sunlight. His head throbbed even more. Covering his eyes, he rolled away from the window, then tried opening them as slits.
Carolyn sat on the bed next to him, artfully wearing one of his old T-shirts with the collar carelessly slipping down over one delicate shoulder. Her hair looked perfect and he suspected she’d already showered, brushed her teeth, and put on makeup.
His shirt had never looked so good.
What the hell did I do last night… or this morning… or whenever I did it?
Giving him a brilliant smile, Carolyn cheerfully said, “Good morning!” She lifted an eyebrow, “Looks like someone’s out of practice on his drinking?”
Squinching his eyes shut again, Nolan gave the barest of nods. Did I do something I’ll regret?
Carolyn said, “I found some Tylenol in your medicine cabinet, if you can sit up a little…”
He felt her shift on the bed. Cracking an eye again, he saw her leaning over to his nightstand to pick up some tablets and a glass of water. Swinging back, she held them in front of him. He leaned up on an elbow and took the tablets, popping them in his mouth. She handed him the glass and he took several swigs. With a groan, he said, “Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.”
She grinned, “Well, I’m the one who talked you into drinking so much, the least I can do is nurse you back to life.”
Nolan fell back on the bed and pulled the pillow up over his eyes. Moaning for her benefit, he thought, What have I done?! How am I going to get rid of her? Then he guiltily wondered if he was acting like the proverbial womanizer, using a woman then casting her aside. If only I could remember! Maybe I didn’t actually do anything to apologize for? Or—my God!—what if she’s pregnant?!
The bed bounced as Carolyn got off of it. Chirpily, she said, “I found some bagels and cream cheese in your fridge. In about 15 minutes, when you feel like moving again, you take a shower and come on out to the kitchen. I’ll have you some breakfast ready.”
Oh God! She’s practically moved in?! How am I going to tell her I’m in a relationship? Especially after… whatever I did with her last night.
***
Levon glanced at the instrument displays as she settled onto her rest on the bridge. The thermometer claimed that the ship’s interior had cooled substantially, but Levon found it hard to believe. Levon constantly felt lethargic, yet she could hardly sleep. She’d badgered the engineers several times to make sure the solar mirror was still functioning within tolerance and that something hadn’t gone wrong with the radiators. She understood that, this close to the star, the effective temperature outside of the ship was in the thousands, but… she turned a baleful eye on Sixth Officer. “Sixth! How can your systems cool the interior of this damned ship down from thousands of degrees outside, yet leave it so perfectly, miserably hot inside? By ‘perfect,’ I mean hot enough to drive me insane without doing the kindness of killing me!”
Sixth looked at her with frightened eyes that told Levon how angry she must sound. He began tentatively, “It’s an optimization issue Captain. The systems were designed to cool the ship enough to keep us alive, um, but not comfortable. A ship capable of keeping us comfortable would have to be larger… or have carried a smaller payload.”
Sixth waited a beat, evidently hoping that his explanation had been sufficient. Levon, however, was remembering how many times she’d heard this rationale during the interminable briefings about the ship before they left. She was wondering whether the transition had made her forget, or her irritability had made her ask Sixth rather than dredging it up out of her own memory.
Sixth, apparently deciding that his captain was waiting for further elaboration, continued, “Alternatively, navigation could have plotted us higher perihelion that wouldn’t have produced so much heat, but, as I’m sure you remember, the deeper we go in the gravity well, the better the chances of a successful transition…”
And if we hadn’t successfully transited, Levon thought, we’d have gone through this miserable heat and still be in the home system. She didn’t want to admit that she’d known everything Sixth had just told her, but for a moment couldn’t think of anything to say to conclude the conversation. Finally, she said, “So, there’s nothing more you can do, is that correct?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Levon didn’t do him the courtesy of concluding the conversation in some fashion, she just turned away. “Fourth Officer, you’re promoted to Second.” Levon ignored Fourth Officer’s shocked look, turning to Fifth instead. “You need to bring another navigator out of hibernation to replace Fourth.” Levon turned to her own displays without further elaboration.
Behind her, Levon heard Fourth Officer say, “But… What will
we do when Second Officer returns?”
“Biltan won’t be returning,” Levon said, using Second Officer’s actual name for the first time. She didn’t turn around. “The Doctor determined that he’d suffered irreparable brain damage in the transition. He’s been put down.”
“There was… no chance that he would recover?!”
“No!” Levon barked, partly because she didn’t want to think about the possibility. “And, we can’t keep dead weight! You know that!”
“But…”
“No buts!” Levon shouted. “It’s not our lives, but the lives of all rendas you should be thinking of!” Levon still had her back to Fourth Officer, her muzzle buried in her own displays. She knew they were afraid that they might be put down themselves if they had problems on the transition back home. Levon was afraid they might recognize just how worried she was that she herself had suffered some brain damage in the transition several days ago. Levon worried about her own thought processes … Have the other officers noticed my sludgy mentation? She wondered. Do they wonder if I should be put down like Biltan was? Partly to get their mind off of that possible track and partly to herself she roared, “Back to work! Let’s save our people…” That might have been properly inspiring, Levon thought, if I hadn’t sounded so angry when I said it.
***
Reven stared at herself in the mirror, heart sinking. She’d gotten up extra early to milk the cows and give herself time for this. But now, as evidenced by all the smudged Kleenex in the wastebasket, she’d tried and failed three times. Blush on her cheeks made her look like a clown.
Eyeshadow made her look like some kind of monster.
Lipstick… She didn’t know what to think, but she didn’t think she looked like Reven.
The only thing that didn’t seem to be a complete failure was the mascara. Reven already had long, dark eyelashes and the mascara simply made them a little more so. Not enough more to make her look ridiculous… not the way everything else in her mother’s makeup cabinet had made her look.
Vaz 4: Invaders Page 6