To The Stars

by Thomas Stone

  Collenz floated in front of the door and stared at the tiny camera set above the hatch. She crossed her arms.

  "Open the hatch, Fagen. This isn't going to get either of us anywhere."

  She paused, waiting. The commander made no reply.

  "Fagen," she said sternly, "did you hear me? Open the damn door!"

  There was no reply. Collenz looked back at the access doors. More to herself than him, she muttered, "Fagen, you bastard!"

  She set her feet on the hatch and pushed herself through the weightless air to one of the lockers that lined the bulkheads. Inside was a suit, if she hurried, she might just make it before Fagen...

  There was the sudden sound of a hatch opening. Collenz drew in a breath and glanced at the hanger bay doors. They remained closed. Slowly, she turned her head until she looked at the locked access hatch. It was open and Fagen stood in the passage.

  "We had a power glitch; hatches locked all over the place. I came straight here."

  Collenz put the suit back into the locker.

  "Why're you dragging that out?"

  Collenz shrugged. "I didn't know what was going on." She pushed off and floated to the hatchway. Fagen moved aside and let her pass. She saw where he'd opened the hatch access panel and pulled out wires to bypass the circuitry. Pausing, she looked at the wiring. Inspecting the wires, she leaned closer and reached inside.

  "Don't," Fagen cautioned, "there's s hot circuit in there."

  "I know what I'm doing; besides, I'm better at this than you."

  In the next instant, she jerked upright and gritted her teeth. Her eyes opened wide as the voltage flowed through her. She saw Fagen and tried to speak, but her tongue would not obey. Her contracted lungs squeezed out the last bit of air and then refused to draw another.

  Her last memory was of Fagen taking a step backward just as her hair caught on fire.

  Chapter 2

  Rain tapped against the window pane much as it had all night. It roused Harry and he opened his eyes. "Il pleut," he said. "Das ist schade."

  From the stairs, his mother's voice floated down to him, "Harrison? Time to get up. Breakfast's almost ready."

  Harry swung his feet to the basement floor, stretched his twenty-five year-old frame, and pulled on his clothes. Tripping over a stack of text books, he stumbled into the bathroom, washed his face, and shaved. It was going to be a long day, a day he'd looked forward to for a long time. It was test day for all qualified applicants in the Corporation space exploration programs.

  Overhead, the sound of running feet alerted him to the fact that his younger brothers and sisters were awake. They ran back and forth overhead as he selected his only white shirt and put it on. Harry had two ties: a red, power tie his mother had purchased for him, and his father's lucky tie, an Irish plaid monstrosity. Harry selected the latter and draped it around his neck. Harry didn't really believe in luck, but it couldn't hurt to cover all bases. Slipping into his shoes, he took one last look in the mirror.

  He was prepared. The thousands of hours in study, all the small sacrifices he'd made, all directed towards the opportunity to take the Corporation tests. If he performed well enough, he'd be chosen to be one of a select few who would travel into deep space.

  Taking a breath, he climbed the stairs to the kitchen. Pleasant, cooking smells greeted him. As he entered, his mother turned from her old-fashioned microstove to face him. "You look nice today."

  "Thanks."

  She looked closer. "That's your father's old tie, isn't it?"

  Harry glanced down at the worn tie. "Yeah. I thought maybe it would bring me luck."

  Mrs. Irons gazed at her son for a long moment. "Just do your best and everything else will fall into place. In any case, I'm proud of you."

  There were so many qualified applicants; he hoped his best was good enough. Besides, he had the added burden of not having a sponsor, somebody in one of the corporations to help him along. He opened his mouth to tell her these things but was interrupted by his siblings as they trooped into the kitchen.

  "Breakfast, breakfast!" They chanted.

  "All right, pipe down," Mrs. Irons commanded. "Give your older brother some peace and quiet this morning. He's got a big day ahead."

  Harry's baby sister climbed into his lap. "Is Harry-Harry goin' to live with the Injuns again?"

  Harry smiled. "No, honey. I'm going to take a test today. A very important test. If I do well enough, I'll get to ride a spaceship."

  "Yeah, Becky," fourteen-year-old brother Jackie added, "and if he passes, we'll be rich! Right, Harry?"

  "Well, maybe not rich, but we could afford a few things."

  "I told you kids to leave your brother alone. He's got enough on his mind already."

  "That's all right, Ma. I need to be going anyway." Harry rose from the kitchen table.

  "Why, you haven't had breakfast yet."

  He reached for a slice of toast and took a half moon-shaped bite. "This is all I need."

  "What about lunch?"

  "I'll pick up something in the cafeteria."

  "Well, all right. Harry?"

  Harry stopped at the door. "Yeah, Ma?"

  Mrs. Irons wiped her hands on a towel. "I know how much this means to you, son. I just don't want you to be disappointed if, you know, things don't turn out the way you want."

  "Don't worry. I can always get work as an interpreter." The bad part about that was the boring, plodding work. A twenty year ticket to mediocrity. On the other hand, if selected for training with one of the survey teams, he would visit other worlds and become rich in the process. They would have all the money they'd ever dreamed of and his family could move out of the miserable tenant housing in the heart of the crowded city.

  It was still a long shot. The selection process was strenuous; only the best were offered positions, and there was so much competition.

  He stood in the open door. "Well, I guess this is it."

  His mother took him by the hand and kissed him on the cheek. "Good luck, son."

  "Thanks, Ma."

  They all wished him luck as he stepped from the apartment onto the street. The rain still fell. Harry pulled his slicker closer and adjusted his smog-mask as he walked to the bus stop. Even at the early hour, the streets were alive with people on their way to work. Since private transportation was outlawed, public conveyances were the only way to get around other than walking. The non-polluting electric trains rumbled on their tracks while crowded air-buses constantly dropped down, unloaded passengers, loaded up and took off again. It was loud, smoky, and crowded. Harry boarded a Q-line bus and took a seat near the back.

  Through the window, he watched the crowds. Today, he was just another poor student, but tomorrow he might be something else. He might be one of the privileged few to actually go to other star systems, to explore the galaxy, and to chart new worlds. It could make him rich, maybe famous. The tests he was about to take would determine his future. It wouldn't be the end of the world if he wasn't selected, but it sure wouldn't be the start of anything either.

  At the next stop, Frankie and George climbed aboard the bus and joined Harry in the back.

  "Lost in thought, eh, Harry?" Frankie flopped into the seat in front while George sat next to Harry. "Nothing to worry about. Why, I'll bet we're all selected and then they'll put us on the fast track to Alpha Centauri."

  "Nothing's at Alpha Centauri, Frankie. We knew that ten years ago," replied George.

  "Well, some other place then where the ladies are nice to me."

  Harry flushed.

  "If you were chosen, where would you like to go?"

  Harry looked out the window. "I don't know. Maybe someplace that hasn't been discovered yet. Someplace that has something space exploration hasn't found yet."

  "Like aliens, right? Somebody to talk to so you can use your language skills."

  "Well, it is what I've trained for."

  "Yeah, well never mind that in the forty years since the discovery of the wo
rmhole there hasn't been any indication anything is out there besides quasars, brown dwarfs, and millions of planets that are either too hot or too cold..."

  "Or too big or too small..."

  "To hold any life-form at all, much less something that communicates."

  Harry shrugged. "They keep accepting linguistic experts."

  "And they end up as computer specialists when they can't utilize their primary skills."

  "If I was picked to go, that'd be all right by me."

  The bus pulled to a stop in front of the Corporation testing center. The three young men stepped from the airbus onto the sidewalk.

  The building was new, and big, covering an entire city block. Over the entrance, chiseled granite proclaimed the Braithwaite name, identifying the edifice as one of the numerous Braithwaite Foundation properties. The Foundation was a corporate conglomeration, a mixed bag of industries that was controlled by a board of directors and a handful of stockholders. It was said that those who held the reins to Braithwaite also held the world at ransom. Of course, the other corporations of the era would argue the point in their favor, as well as several dozen other upstarts. In any case, Braithwaite was not only the oldest, it was also the largest and most powerful.

  Harry paused on the steps leading into the building and gazed skyward. The rain had stopped and the sun was breaking through. That was a good sign. Frankie slapped him on the back.

  "Good luck, Harry. Mechanical tests are to the right. Looks like you're straight ahead."

  "Good luck to you too." Harry walked inside the building. Desks, manned by representatives from the corporate testing group, were set up in the foyer and labeled by their separate testing areas. Linguistics and anthropology were straight ahead. A line of applicants nervously awaited their turn to register. George was so nervous he left without saying anything. Harry found his section and waited. Across the foyer he saw George fidgeting in the line for the navigations test.

  When he got to the head of the queue, Harry handed his admissions ticket to the registrar. While he waited for her to validate his entry, he couldn't help but notice a beautiful young woman in the line for the biology and botany tests. She was dressed smartly, obviously from the upper crust. Odd that a person like that would be among the candidates. She saw Harry looking at her and boldly stared back. Harry realized he was staring and, turned away, blushing a full red.

  Thankfully, just then a corporate rep instructed Harry and the other entrants to follow. They were led to the testing room and instructed to take seats. Each desk held a small computer monitor. Pencils and paper were also available. A thick, blue test booklet was at the center of each desk. A well-dressed, middle-aged man stepped to the dais in the front of the room and tapped for quiet. The roomful of entrants fell silent.

  "Good morning ladies and gentlemen." He paused and smiled for effect. "On behalf of the Braithwaite Foundation, allow me to welcome you to the Corporation Entrance Examinations for the Survey Group. Each of you is to be congratulated for having made it this far. In so doing, you have included yourselves in an elite group, something less than ten percent of your original number."

  He peered at a paper he held in his hand and continued. "By the way, this room is for language and computer specialists, so if anybody is here by mistake, please leave now." He looked over the room. Nobody left.

  "There are reps in the hallway outside who will direct you to the proper room." Again he paused and scanned the room. This time, a young man in the back stood up, excused himself and left.

  The corporate rep smiled. "There's always one, even among the elite. There's a valuable lesson here. We at Braithwaite believe that before a person can rely on others, that person must first be able to rely on himself. There is no room for error in the type of space operations for which your tender hearts yearn. There can be no mistakes. Even though we've been using the wormhole for forty-some-odd years, much remains unknown. It's a dangerous enterprise, but the rewards are great, perhaps for some of you, even awesome."

  "It may interest you to know that the young man who was confused about where he was supposed to be is now being escorted out of the building."

  Harry squirmed in his seat.

  "This afternoon you will be barraged with the psychological tests. I hope you are prepared. As I recall, they are quite strenuous. We will begin testing in a moment and will proceed until 11:30. There will be two ten-minute breaks. Between sessions there is a ninety minute break for lunch. I suggest you make use of the time and relax. There's no way to prepare for the psych tests, just be yourselves. Now, are there any questions?" There were none.

  "Please open your test booklets."

  The test commenced.

  Chapter 3

  As far as tests went, Harry felt he'd taken worse. They were comprehensive, covering a wide-assortment of human and non-human languages, although Harry figured no one really knew what it was like to be a dolphin.

  He emerged from the test room, pushing the door quietly open so as not to disturb those who still worked.

  Outside, one of the monitors looked up from her table. She smiled at Harry and asked how he'd done.

  "Okay, I think."

  "That's what we like to hear." She removed a slip of paper from a bundle and handed it to him. "Here's your lunch chit. You have," she glanced at her watch, "two hours until the psych tests. Please stay in the building and restrict yourself to the specified lounges, cafeteria, and courtyard. Any questions?"

  "Can you tell me where the, uh, the..."

  "Facilities are located?"

  "Well, yes."

  "On the way to the lounges, off to the right. "Anything else?"

  "No, I don't think so."

  "Then congratulations on being the first entrant to finish the test, and good luck to you." She went back to whatever she'd been doing and Harry went off in search of the john.

  As she said, the restroom was located just off the corridor. When Harry walked in, he immediately sensed another person in the room. Sounds came from a stall at the rear. Harry relaxed and looked in the mirror, pleased with being the first to complete the test. Maybe it wasn't going to be so bad after all. He brushed his hair from his face. It was going to be a breeze.

  He turned to a urinal just as the last stall door opened and a middle-aged woman stepped out.

  Ignoring Harry, she moved to the mirror and adjusted her hair. There was nothing wrong with her presence there. The preceding one hundred years of social innovation included the gradual disappearance of segregated spaces for personal hygiene. That didn't mean people were no longer modest. It was as it had always been; some were more modest than others. For someone who'd been raised in a large family, Harry was overly shy.

  He stood transfixed and fought to follow social convention, but all he could do was stand closer to the urinal and stare at the scrubbed porcelain. The lady was in no hurry. She meticulously applied lipstick to her puckered middle-aged lips.

  After an interminable length of time, the outside door opened and a fat, disheveled, young man entered. Ignoring both Harry and the woman, he stepped up to the vacant urinal beside Harry and, without a problem, began to relieve himself. The woman finished with her lips and began dabbing powder onto her face. Still the fat young man continued to urinate. He stood back and allowed the stream to arc into the urinal.

  Holding her purse in both hands, the woman gave him a disapproving look and exited.

  Harry glanced at the guy. From the nametag attached to his lapel, Harry saw he was a test entrant. Unlike Harry, the young man appeared to be unconcerned with his appearance: worn spots shined from the knees of his pants, his hair was dirty and uncombed, and situated at points on his forehead and just behind both ears were the unmistakable marks of implants. The young man was a wirehead, able to plug himself into computers, the twenty-second century's version of a pleasure-seeking junkie.

  What's he doing here, Harry wondered? How did a guy like that ever qualify for the corporation tests? W
ireheads were undisciplined people who stayed plugged in most of the time and addicted themselves to direct neural stimulation. The wirehead glanced at Harry. "How're you doing?"

  "What?" Harry returned, surprised.

  "How are you doing? I saw you inside. You were the first to complete the test. Either you did extremely well or you didn't know anything and turned it in just to be finished. Which is it?"

  "Well, I did okay, I guess."

  Self-assured, the wirehead replied, "Me too," and zippered his trousers. He turned away and, without another word, strode to the door. When he was alone again, Harry was finally able to relieve himself.

  Still thinking about the wirehead, he strolled to the lounge and spotted his friends seated at a corner table.

  "How'd it go, hairball?" asked Frankie.

  "All right. It's not over yet." Harry looked at George. "How'd you do?"

  "I don't know, it was pretty hard. I don't think I did so hot."

  "Don't worry about it, pal," Frankie said, "I'll let you stay in my orbital condo while I'm out on survey trips." Frankie laughed. He didn't need to tell anybody how well he did on the test. It was obvious he was pleased with himself.

  "Ready for the psych tests?" asked Harry.

  "Ready as I'll ever be. In fact..." Frankie lowered his voice. "In fact, I've heard that the psych tests started the minute we stepped inside the building."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Ah, Harry old buddy, haven't you noticed all the cameras? They're everywhere."

  Harry looked around the lounge. Frankie was right. Scattered about, strategically placed along the walls and ceiling, were small, mounted cameras with tell-tale red lights on the fronts indicating monitoring activity.

  "There's more; people have told me all kinds of things about the selection process. The company wants to know everything about you. You know, everybody that's gotten this far has had a background check already."

  "Yeah, but I thought that part was over."

  "Harry, Harry," Frankie chided, "wake up, this is the 22nd century." Something distracted Frankie. "Look at her, would you?" Frankie directed his attention to a young woman who had just entered the lounge.

  Harry turned to look and saw the same woman he'd seen before the test. She carried herself with self-assurance as she walked across the lounge and, to Harry's surprise, she stopped and spoke with the wirehead from the restroom. They seemed to know one another.