Matthew swiveled his head to look at her, stifling a gasp of surprise in his throat and finally saying, “Good.”
She watched the navigational profile self-diagnose itself within Prudence’s Navigational Brain Core. “Do you want to know why?”
Of course he did, but he was trying to be cool. “Why?” he asked, managing to sound almost indifferent.
“Partly it was because you made me think of how many things I had in my life that had no value. I didn’t want to add marriage to that list. Also, I guess I don’t think its okay to kick a man even if the law says I can’t hit him.”
“You lost me.”
“No importance. Finally, I guess I just thought about being Eliza Jane Change Roebuck and it just didn’t sound like a name I wanted to carry around with me.”
Matthew looked at her hard. Was this a joke? Should I laugh?
She hit him lightly on the arm. “It’s a joke, stupid.”
He didn’t laugh, but he did return a dimpled smile.
“Have you told him?” Matthew asked.
“Just before embarkation.”
“How did he take it?”
“He said it was no big deal. He said he had a fallback plan.”
Matthew sighed. “He always does. Initiate Primary Systems Check: Weapons.”
Pegasus – The UnderDecks
A faint stinging remained in his elbows and his good knee, and his ears were still ringing from the EM discharge, but Trajan Lear was forging on. The end of the shaft was only half as far away now.
Pegasus – Launch Bay Gamma 9
The Lead Mission Specialist, entered the Command Deck as Matthew completed final systems checks. “Flt. Lieutenant, Driver?” he asked, addressing Eliza.
“Other seat,” she told him, pointing at Matthew.
“Oh, sorry. Engineering Specialist Hiram Olivetti, I’ll be directing the extraction part of the mission.”
Matthew and Eliza looked him over. Tallish, overweight and wiry-haired, but what stood out most was that his flight jacket was tucked under the waist of his pants on one side and hanging free on the left. They both simultaneously wondered how someone so inept at bathroom recovery could be put in charge of a tricky extraction mission… or any mission.
“Welcome aboard,” Matthew said. “We are scheduled for departure in twelve minutes. You should get into your launch couch.”
“I just thought we should review the flight plan, just quickly, before launch.”
“We reviewed it this afterdawn, at the Pre-Launch briefing.”
“I wasn’t invited to that meeting.”
Eliza doubted it. All the other Mission Specialists had been there. Nonetheless, she brought up a screen. It displayed the flight plan graphically as she narrated. “We will depart Pegasus, accelerate to point-two-five-c, and proceed to La Grange Eight. We will rendezvous with the Aves Quentin and Susan and proceed to 10 223 Equuleus IV, reaching the fifth moon fifty-four minutes, relativistic time, from our departure.”
“Do you have orbital patterns laid in?” he asked. “We need an optimal orbit for the lasers to be able to cut around the artifact. The orbital patterns should be laid in.”
“I have already calculated those orbits. You can access them through your station.”
“Shouldn’t we go over them now? Together?”
Eliza Jane Change raised an eyebrow. “We could go over them now, but we have only twelve minutes to launch. It would take half an hour to go over the detailed orbital projections
… with a knowledgeable individual. With someone whose expertise in orbital mechanics is deficient, it would take much longer.”
“I see, but couldn’t we…”
“Besides which, Matthew is eager to find out if its possible to complete a launch cycle with a completely naked woman on his lap, and I promised to help out. We would really appreciate some privacy.”
The engineer’s jaw dropped, and he stammered. “Oh, … I see… uh…” He all but fell down the lift in his rush to escape. Eliza smiled, and saw that Matthew’s face was as red on the giant red spot on Gigantor (eighth planet of the Sapphirean system). “Sorry to have embarrassed you. That twitch was annoying me.”
“Uh, no problem,” Matthew said, smiling between his reddened cheeks, marveling at the capacity of this woman to disorder, restore, then disorder his universe again. “No problem at all.”
Pegasus – The UnderDecks
Trajan continued forward; another hundred meters and then another hundred. His clothes were wet and chafing against his skin. His hunger had become too great a force to ignore. He was bruised all over, and then there was the matter of his knee.
If he were to meet Vesta someday, he thought, if there even really were a Vesta (which he sometimes, to his private shame, doubted), he would have much to say about this journey. Perhaps it was time to consider a conversion, although, in retrospect, a conversion would have been more useful before he had commenced his Passage.
Maybe , he thought, maybe a long time from now I will think back to this Passage, and then I will know what it meant, because it sure seems stupid and useless now. Pegasus – Launch bay Gamma 9
Matthew and Eliza completed their final launch checks. “Mission specialists report all on-board. Safety latches secured. Disconnecting from external support.” Support apparatuses detached from above and beneath the ship and disappeared into the deck.
“Umbilical supports cleared. Internal power optimal.”
“Do you always repeat things to yourself?” Eliza asked.
Matthew did not answer her. It was a pilot thing. She wouldn’t understand. “Initiating pre-ignition sequence. GE is nominal. Prudence to launch control. Report all systems optimal. Launch-enabled at your clearance. ”
A calm feminine voice answered him. “Prudence, your launch vector is Nine-Alpha. Stand-by for ASL positioning.”
The deck vanished below the ship and it was lowered into the Launch Bay.
“Prudence lowering into launch position,” Matthew reported. “Stand by for depressurization.”
Pegasus – The UnderDecks
There was a light ahead, and muffled machinery noise. The Landing Bays. Trajan began hobbling faster. Less than a hundred meters now. Almost there.
He passed through a pressure hatch about forty meters before the end of the maintenance shaft. As he shuffled away from it, red lights began to flash, and a message appeared on the walls.
WARNING: Maintenance Access Decompression in 30 Seconds.
Trajan stopped. If the passage was decompressing, it meant that a vehicle was about to launch. The whole compartment was about to lose air pressure. He turned back to the hatch in indecision. Should he dive behind it, stay in the pressurized part of the tube and endure another shockwave. It probably wouldn’t kill him. Depressurization probably would. Then the hatch dropped, making his choice for him. He turned and broke into a hard sprint away from it, ignoring the bone-hard pain that shot through his legs. There was light ahead of him. He broke for the light with all he had.
The warning projected on the wall tracked him as he ran. 17 Seconds. 16 Seconds. 15
Seconds. 14 Seconds. Too much tube remained, and not nearly enough seconds so it seemed. He pushed himself a little more.
Eleven Seconds.
He saw the end before him, a large aperture in the floor of the deck providing access to the Launch Bay below it, much farther below than he would have expected. He did not hesitate, though. With nine seconds on the clock, he cleared the edge of the aperture and leaped into the hole.
As he fell through space, time left him. He was aware of flashing red and yellow lights all around him, of klaxons bleating and machinery humming. He saw the Aves below him, like a raptor about to take flight, and observed quite detachedly that he was probably going to land on the front of the command module. Two scenarios occurred in his mind. 1. Immediately before launch, the entire chamber would be depressurized to a near vaccum, and he would die quickly when his lungs
exploded, possibly blow out into space in the process. 2. He would land on the Aves and be crushed to a red stain when the ship accelerated to launch velocity. Either way, his journey would soon be over.
Pegasus – Launch Bay Gamma 9
“Commencing depressurization, sequence.”
“Prudence acknowledges. Clear for immediate launch on depressurization.” Matthew turned to Eliza. “You made a good choice,” he told her. He reached for the launch control. Suddenly, something slammed into Prudence’s canopy. Driver heard a bump and looked up to see the boy lying on top of his command module. For a brief second, their eyes met, then the boy’s rolled up into his head.
“Emergency. Abort launch. Abort launch,” Matthew screamed, the volume and pitch of his voice rising. “Emergency. Cancel Decompression. Cancel Decompression.”
Automatic systems activated to carry out his orders before he had even stated them aloud. Prudence began rising back to the flight deck. Klaxons changed pitch, becoming instantly louder and more urgent to warn of an emergency abort.
“Pegasus Launch Control aborting launch cycle. Prudence, convey nature of emergency.”
Driver looked again at the unconscious boy sprawling on top of his canopy. Blood had begun to trickle from the boy’s mouth. Eliza answered for him. “Pegasus, Prudence has a medical emergency. Dispatch medical personnel to Launch Bay Gamma Nine.”
“Emergency Canopy Release,” Driver said. The locks disengaged. He pushed out the panel behind his command seat and pulled himself to the top of the ship. Prudence was still rising, coming up level with the floor of the landing deck. He reached over to the boy and gently rolled him over. Immediately, he began sputtering and choking, blood squirting from his mouth with each convulsion.
“I need a Med-Tech up here,” he called out. He straddled the boy across the waist, put one hand behind his head and gently pulled the jaw open with the other. He cleaned out a clot of blood and broken teeth and made sure the air passage was clear again.
“Good God, it’s Commander Lear’s son,” he heard a voice say. He looked up to see his mission Med. Tech, Jersey Partridge, walking across the top of his ship with a medical tracker extended before him. He knelt beside Driver. “Fractured jaw, multiple dental fractures, fractured ribs, bruised spleen ...”
“Will he be all right?” Matthew asked.
“Muscular distortion around the knee, multiple bruises… he’s going to hurt, but I don’t think he’s going to die.”
They both looked up to the place from which Trajan had fallen. It was at least two decks above them.
“How did he get up there?” Matthew asked.
“Commander Lear has the Watch searching the whole ship for him,” Eliza reported. She was remaining in the cockpit, keeping order.
“Somebody should inform her that he’s here,” Matthew said.
Trajan’s eyes opened. Matthew brushed the boy’s hair from his forehead. “You’re all right,”
he told him in a calm assuring voice.
“That’s good. Keep him calm.” Partridge placed a small adhesive device to Trajan’s temple.
“This should help with the pain. Don’t try to talk.”
Trajan continued to stare at Matthew, and the flight uniform that meant he was a member of this crew, a member of the society to which Trajan belonged. He was home again. He raised his hand weakly and grabbed for Matthew’s.
Matthew took it and held it tightly. “You’re going to be all right,” he said, staring back, trying to convey feelings of serenity and healing the way he was taught at the academy. He felt the boy relax beneath him.
“He’s soaking wet,” said Jersey Partridge. “His life signature’s been scrambled somehow. His brainwaves look like he’s been electrocuted. His blood chemistry is all messed up.” He looked at Driver. “This kid’s been to Hell and back.”
Matthew did not take his eyes away. “You’re all right now. You are safe.” The boy stared back at him, and he could see a light of trust inside them.
“He could use some blood,” Partridge said.
Matthew saw, as though for the first time, the blood that was spotting the canopy of his ship. His flight suit was already stained by it. He offered his free arm. “Here.”
Partridge slipped the transfusion cuff onto Matthew’s arm. “I just need to calibrate for type differences… oh, you’re compatible. Never mind.”
Mathew watched as a deep crimson stream began to flow into the boy. He squeezed the hand a little tighter. “You’re going to be fine,” he reassured him once again. Trajan Lear began slowly receding away from the pain and the light. It was safe to rest now. He felt safe and secure, a sense of well-being radiating from those around him, especially the man holding his hand. The face of the handsome pilot who had come to his rescue, whose blood was even know trickling into his veins, faded and blurred. Trajan heard him say, “He’s losing consciousness.”
The medicrat was saying, “It’s all right… he’s stabilizing… he’s … just … falling… to …
sleep.”
And Trajan Lear slept.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Eden – The Dayside – Chiban Prefecture
As Keeler matched his hand to the outline on the pad, and pressed, he felt energy surging through him strong as an ocean wave. It made a buzzing in his head, followed by a sort of weak ‘pop.’ His hair stung, and his arm felt like it was on fire. A parabolic section in the wall of the Temple of the Z’batsu vanished. None of the interior was revealed, but the aperture was there.
The other members of the landing party were still standing in a dumb stupor.
“I don’t know how long it’s going to stay open,” Keeler called out, fighting the energy that was trying to clamp his teeth shut.
Bless his crew, they did not need to be told twice. They rushed the opening. Keeler did not know whether holding his hand on the panel was necessary the aperture open, but he decided it probably couldn’t hurt.
As each crew member entered, they seemed to vanish, as if they were not entering a building but jumping through a gateway into another universe. The last to enter were Blade Toto and a Technician named D who carried Medical Technician Bihari over the threshold. Keeler called out, “You too, George… Paperlung.”
Lord Paperlung briefly contemplated whether he preferred being outside with the Scion’s men or inside with Keeler’s, and then ran toward the hole. The automech moved surprisingly fast. Keeler released the pad as soon as they were through the portal, and dove in after them, lest it close up as suddenly as it opened.
The Scion’s men had also begun charging the opening. However, from the inside, it looked less like a live image than a projection on a screen. Regardless, Keeler looked around quickly, found another panel with another hand-print on it. He pressed against it and the aperture closed. “I don’t want those goombahs in here,” he explained.
“How did you do that?” Alkema asked.
“The door was designed to keep them out, not us,” Keeler answered.
“How did you know you wouldn’t be killed when you touched the panel.”
“Lucky guess.”
Alkema threw down his pack in frustration and faced down his captain. “I want a real answer, sir. I have to know. I am tired of your … totally inappropriate attitude. You’re not mentoring me very well.”
Keeler met his gaze for the first time in what was probably days. Alkema saw his eyes soften, just slightly.
“Logic,” he answered finally. “… and poetics.”
“Poetics?” Alkema did not seem to understand. “You mean like, ‘Blood-flowers are red/Shadow-blossoms are black/If I said I love you/Would you love me back?”
“Something like that. When we first arrived, I was trying to figure out how this world worked, just as the rest of you were. Our approach was flawed. We were trying to solve the problem in terms of our own safe, terror-free worlds, trying to come to a rational conclusion. But this world doesn’t play by our rules, it never
did, and I don’t think it was never meant to.
“After the first attack, when Goodyear and Hastings were killed, I realized the folly of trying to rationalize the irrational. I saw how this world was affecting you, how it was affecting all of us. I knew we would be at each other’s throats before long. I could not allow that to happen. I ceased trying to rationalize everything I saw, and, instead, I just decided to observe and accept, accept and observe… let this planet reveal itself to me.
“Soon after that, the planet obliged. We met George, and George addressed us as ‘visitors.’
He also scanned us thoroughly. After the scan, he proceeded to assist us, and to obey our commands… no matter how ridiculous. There was something about us he recognized, something that set us apart from the other goombahs on this planet.”
Alkema seemed perplexed. “The Scion alluded to other visitors from other worlds, who could not access the Temple.”
“How do we know they even tried?” Keeler asked.
Honeywell was even more skeptical. “Captain, that seems like an awfully thin rationale...”
“We’re inside aren’t we?” Keeler snapped. Then, he sighed. “I’m sorry. Za, there was more to it than that, but a lot more of it was instinct. I let myself accept the fundamental unreality of this world. After that, things began to make sense.”I just watched the way this world functioned, I thought about everything that had happened to us and it just made sense to touch that panel."
“So you have this world figured out.” Alkema said.
Keeler answered. “Not quite… but I’ve got a handle on it. It’s artificial, incredibly artificial; the topography, the cities, the people, even the plant-life, it’s like… like a museum exhibit…. Neg, not a museum exhibit, more like a shopping zone. Neg, it isn’t that either…” He shook off that line of thought. “I am quite close to figuring it out. This is the right place. The answer is in here, we only have to find it.”
Keeler looked up. “Sacred Excrement,” he whispered.
The interior of the structure was vast and exquisite, without being aesthetically pleasing. Across the ceiling was a blizzard of giant crystal snowflakes radiating blue-white light. It hurt their eyes at first, although they realized it was, for them, a natural spectrum, as opposed to the gold-filtered light of the planet outside. The walls were curved like the exterior. It was like being inside a giant crystal egg.
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