Godspeed

by Charles Sheffield

  I went in, and saw more spacers in the next thirty seconds than I had dreamed existed.

  They lounged at tables covered with food and drink, or stood leaning on bare walls. And they were talking, talking, talking. The whole room buzzed with spaceman chatter. I wanted to hear every word.

  Except that the heads turning casually to glance at me did not move away. I was conspicuous, not because of my age—there were dozens of boys no older than me, serving food and drink—but because of my dress. Everyone else was either twice my age, or wearing the service uniform of white coat and blue tight pants.

  More people were staring at me. It was time to leave. I walked quickly out of the restaurant and retreated to the shore, determined to talk Mother into making me a white coat and blue pants when I got back.

  When I got back. There was the hitch. I had lost track of time, and I had also not allowed for the fact that the wind usually dropped in the late afternoon to a light air. I set sail for the west shore, but the boat crept along, hardly creating a ripple in the still lake water.

  That is how I came to see my first close-up space launch.

  Darkness had fallen across the lake almost before I left the jetty. I had no problem with my destination, because Toltoona was a sizable patch of lights on the other side. But when I was no more than a tenth of the way across the lake, there was suddenly light behind me. A strange violet glow lit my white sail, and everything in the boat changed to peculiar and unnatural colors.

  I turned. A ship was going up, balancing on top of a violet column of light. The ascent was slow, almost stately. I was close enough to see the return beam, a thin stream of matter that I knew was moving at close to the speed of light. It was a paler blue, and its line followed exactly back into the center of the power laser. A faint crackle of ionization carried to me across the water.

  And suddenly the boat was picking up speed. I could not tell how much was natural wind, and how much I was feeling a byproduct of the huge energies being generated and dissipated back at Muldoon Port. But by the time the launch was complete and the violet beam had vanished, we were finally moving at a decent speed. Two long hours later I was tying the boat up alongside one of the Toltoona wharves. I sneaked up the hill, on into Uncle Toby's house the back way—and learned that he was not nearly as blurred in vision or hard of hearing as I hoped.

  "And where in the name of Kevin do you think you've been?" he asked, when I was hardly in the door.

  And then, before I could say a word, "And don't you be giving me any of your made-up stories, either, Jay Hara. You've been away across the lake, you have, and that in the dark. And poor Molly worrying herself sick about you."

  "Mother knows I've been away?"

  "And why else would she be worrying? She was here earlier. She wants you home as soon as you can get. And how do you think I look, with never a word to offer her as to where you were, or when you might be back?"

  "How did you know I'd been across the lake?"

  "Where else would a boy be, who eats and drinks and sleeps space, and has a boat? Did you have dinner, then?"

  "No. I've had nothing since before lunch."

  I was expecting food, or at least sympathy. But Uncle Toby sniffed and said, "Well, that's your own fool fault, isn't it? Dinner has been and gone. Get on home now—and not in the boat. Along the road."

  "But Mother has a visitor. I thought he was going to be at the house for three more days."

  "He is. This is different. Home you go, Jay. If you're lucky, Molly might give you something to eat when you get there."

  Uncle Toby had my little backpack all ready to go. I started out for home. It was cloudy and pitch-dark, but there was no chance of getting lost. The lake was on my right hand, the embankment on my left. The road ran from Toltoona to our house, and ended just beyond it. There was hardly ever any traffic. I walked briskly, because it was late autumn, and the nights were already turning cold.

  My head was filled with visions of Muldoon Port and that nighttime space launch, and the memory of the sail back to Toltoona through ghostly darkness. I doubt that I gave one thought to Mother's odd change of mind, suddenly wanting me home even though she had a guest staying with her.

  And once I arrived home, and had a chance to talk with Paddy Enderton, it seemed the most natural thing in the world that Mother should want me there with her.

  CHAPTER 3

  It was more than five years since I had stayed at the house while Mother entertained one of her visitors. In that time I must have changed a lot in how I saw things, for it seemed to me, as soon as I stepped inside, that the man sitting in our best chair was quite different from all the others that I had met.

  As I opened the door he gave a great nervous jerk upwards in his seat, then abruptly swiveled in the chair to find out who had come in. I saw a huge head, thick-bearded and dark-haired. It surmounted massive shoulders, and a bigger chest than that of any spaceman I had ever seen. His face was very pale, and free of the usual spacer broken veins and burns. Instead it wore an odd expression of surprise and caution.

  But the biggest difference was in Mother.

  "About time," she said. "Mr. Enderton, this is my son, Jay. He'll give you a hand to carry your things upstairs. He's big and strong."

  Not one word about where I had been, or what I had been doing until so late. Which was just fine by me. But odder than this was Mother's attitude towards the visitor. There was none of the glow about her that I had always seen with other men guests, no sideways cocking of the head, no little touches or quick glances. Instead she sounded very practical and businesslike as she pointed behind me to the doorway.

  "Get to it,Jay," she said. "It's too much for me."

  I had noticed the great box when I came in—I could hardly miss it, the way that it filled half the entrance. If I was supposed to carry that upstairs, I would need lots of help. But Paddy Enderton was already standing up and coming toward me. Seated, his size had been deceptive. He possessed the head and torso of a giant, but his legs proved to be so short that he was no taller than me.

  "You're Jay, then," he said gruffly. He stared hard, measuring my build, but made no move to shake my hand. "Aye, you seem strong enough. Let's do it."

  I could see the remains of dinner still on the table, and that would have been my first preference. But Enderton had gone past me, and was already reaching down to a handle on the side of the box. He lifted it easily, one-handed. I took the other handle without much hope that I would be able to move it at all. To my amazement, the chest came easily off the ground.

  I wondered, had Enderton really needed my help?

  Yes, he had. We headed up the stairs without my feeling much strain, but Enderton gasped and gulped at every step. At the top, to my surprise, he took a turn to the left along the landing.

  To explain that surprise, I have to say that our house had three bedrooms. The one at the front, looking out over the lake, was my room. The two at the back were Mother's bedroom and a small guest bedroom right next to it, where visitors always slept.

  The left turn off the landing led to my room, and only to my room. And when we went into it, I found that all my belongings had disappeared.

  "It's all right." Mother had followed us up the stairs. "Mr. Enderton said he absolutely had to have the front room. You're in the guest bedroom, Jay. I moved your things. It won't be for long."

  "How long?" It was ridiculous, moving me out of my own room for just a couple of days.

  Now mother did look at Enderton, but it was nothing more than simple inquiry.

  He had put down his side of the box and straightened up, the breath rattling in his throat. "I told you," he wheezed at last. "I'm not sure." He had one hand pressed to his massive rib cage, and his face was even paler than before.

  "I'm not sure," he repeated after another long pause. "Maybe three or four weeks."

  He said nothing more, but stood there scowling and panting, and glancing every second or two at the sealed box.
He was clearly waiting, and after a few more seconds Mother nodded at me. "Come on, then," she said, and led the way back downstairs.

  "He's horrible," I burst out, as soon as we were in the living-room and out of earshot. "Why are you letting him stay with us for even a night, let alone a month?"

  Mother hesitated. She had been loading a plate with cold meat and bread. "Now then, Jay," she said mildly. She handed me the plate. "Paddy Enderton is not what I expected, that I'll admit. But he's going to pay more than anyone ever paid. And for nothing, too."

  "It's not for nothing! You're feeding him, aren't you? And you let him have my room."

  "That's . . . different."

  "It sure is. Why didn't you leave me with Uncle Toby until he was gone?"

  "So you could go sailing off across the lake again, and worry your old uncle sick?" But Mother sounded more thoughtful than angry. "I just feel better with you here, and Uncle Duncan, too. Eat your dinner, now, and clear up afterwards. I'm going off to bed."

  So there was another surprise, something for me to ponder as I ate a rapid and solitary meal, and then washed up. Not only was I going to be around while Mother had a visitor, but Uncle Duncan would be dropping in, too. That had never happened before.

  None of this was enough consolation, though, for my being deprived of my own bedroom. My dislike of Paddy Enderton grew when I went up to the guest room and found all my things scattered around haphazardly on shelves and floor.

  That was not enough to keep me awake, once I lay down on the bed. The day had been too long, and too full. I relived the visit to Muldoon Port, the grandeur of the space launch, and the night journey back, with the boat whispering its way across the dark lake. My final thought was again of the sailboat. It was still moored at Toltoona. Tomorrow I would have to walk over there, and sail it home.

  * * *

  That thought came into my head again as soon as I awoke. It was barely light. The house was quiet. If I hurried I could be to Toltoona and back before Mother even knew that I had gone.

  I dressed quickly, stole downstairs, and headed for the door—and jumped a foot in the air when a silent form came at me from the kitchen.

  It was Paddy Enderton, a big sharp-pointed carving knife in his right hand. "Hah!" he said. "It's you." He lowered the knife. "I'm just getting myself a bite of breakfast. What are you doing up so early?"

  "I left my sailboat over at Toltoona last night. I have to go and get it back."

  "You sail, do you?" he said, after an awkward silence. "Going to be a sailor, are you, or a fisherman?"

  "I hope not." I wanted to be away, but I had to be civil. This morning he was at least talking to me as though I was a human being. "I'd rather be a spacer," I added. "Like you."

  "What's that?" The knife jerked upward again, its point toward me. "Who said I was a spacer?"

  "Nobody."

  "Do you think I look like a spacer?"

  "No, you don't." I was scared by his eyes even more than the knife. "But you sound like one, the way you have trouble breathing. And all Mother's other guests, they've been spacers."

  "Other guests?" His pale face reddened, and the breath wheezed in his throat. "You have spacer guests here?"

  I wished that Mother was around to explain, but it was long before her usual rising time. So it was up to me. I told him the simple truth, that we had guests now and again, ever since I remembered, and that they had all been spacers. But it had been four months since one was here.

  That last fact seemed to calm him, and he slowly nodded his massive head. "I should have checked," he said, "before I came. Too late now."

  "Are you a spacer?" I asked.

  Instead of answering he walked through into the kitchen and came back carrying a sandwich of bread and hot bacon.

  "Here." He handed it to me. "Eat that. I don't have the appetite now." He studied me as I took a first bite. "So you're often in Toltoona, eh? And you're a sailor, too, who wants to be a spacer. Did you ever think to sail right across Lake Sheelin, to Muldoon Port?"

  "I did it just yesterday," I said proudly. "I saw a space launch, close up."

  "Did you now." He smiled for the first time, an awkward grimace of stained teeth. "Well, Jay Hara, you're quite the adventurer. Would there be any problem if you sailed across again, for me?"

  Problem? It would please me more than anything in the world, but still there was a problem, a big one.

  "Mother doesn't like me to sail far away from the shore."

  "That's for pleasure. If it was well-paid, though, that would be another matter."

  My reluctance to discuss the idea with Mother must have showed, because he went on, "Of course, I'd be the one asking her. And if you did a little something extra for me now and then, there'd be other stuff coming your way that's more than wages. Things you'll like, you wanting to be a spacer. See here. I'm giving you this right now."

  He pulled from his pocket a coin-sized flat circle, like a tiny plate of stiff paper, and handed it across to me. I examined it on both sides, and saw nothing.

  "Well?" said Enderton.

  "It's just a flat piece of cardboard."

  "You think so?" He seemed pleased. "Grab your jacket and come with me."

  He led the way outside the house. It was a fine morning of late fall, the temperature hardly risen above freezing. In another week or two winter would arrive dramatically, with biting north winds and soon after that a thin coat of ice along the shallows of the lake. But today we could still stand outside without discomfort.

  Enderton stared along the road to Toltoona, and then across the deserted surface of Lake Sheelin. He examined them closely, before he moved next to me and pointed his thick finger at the disk.

  "Now, you want to be a spacer and not a fisherman, I know that, but I'll bet you still like to fish?" He saw my nod. "So let's say you're out on the lake, fishing. And suppose you're still out when it gets dark, and you come across a place where there's something good on your line every time you stick it down in the water. You'd love to be able to find the same spot again, but there's not a landmark visible to fix your place. Then you press this."

  His index finger stabbed at a little red patch on one side of the card. So far as I could see, nothing at all happened.

  "So now you go away, anywhere you like. Come on." Enderton started walking along the road. I followed him, swallowing down the last of my sandwich, until we were a couple of hundred paces from the house. There he stopped.

  "Now, say that tomorrow night you want to find your way back to that same place. Then all you do is press this." He touched a blue patch on the opposite side of the card. "And see what you get."

  The front of the card had suddenly changed. Before it had been blank, now it was divided in two by a bright yellow arrow. In the middle sat a number.

  "That points the direction you have to go, to get right back where you want to be." Enderton rotated the card, to show that the arrow turned to point always in the same direction. "And the figures in the middle, they tell you how far you have to go to reach your starting point. You just follow the arrow. Go ahead. Do it."

  I did as he suggested, and found myself led right back to the place were we had started. When I arrived at the right point outside the house, the arrow vanished and the little disk buzzed softly.

  I turned the card over. It was thin as a fingernail, and the underside was no more than a repeat of the top. Paddy Enderton laughed, then doubled over with a horrible coughing fit.

  "You'll see nothing there," he said, when he had recovered. "And don't try to break it open to look, or it will never work again."

  "I've never seen anything like this."

  "Of course you haven't." He gave me a leer and a wink. "And no more has anyone else around here. That's spacer work—and not the sort you'll find around Muldoon Port, either. But you see how useful it would be, to fix a position in space. And it's yours. You help me when I need it, and there'll be more things like this for you. Are we on, Jay?"
>
  He held out his hand. After a few moments I took it. His big black-haired paw swallowed up my whole hand, and I pulled away as soon as I could.

  "If Mother says it's all right to cross the lake, I'll do it." Attractive as it had sounded at first, I was having second thoughts. I hadn't liked Paddy Enderton when I first met him, and gifts or no gifts I decided that I didn't like him now. "Mother will have to agree."

  "Sure. I'll square that with her, no problem. But there's other things, too, that your mother doesn't need to know about." He leaned close to me. "You're going off to Toltoona, right?"

  "I should be on the way already." I glanced at the sun. "I wanted to be back before Mother was up."

  "Don't worry about that. I'll tell her that you ran a little errand for me." He reached into his pocket, and handed me more money than I saw in a good month. "This is for today's work. Before you collect your boat, take a walk right through Toltoona. Every street of it. How many inns are there?"

  "Three."

  "Take a look in each one. You've seen plenty of spacers, right?"

  I nodded.

  "Keep your eyes open for anyone who looks or sounds like a spacer. If you see one, take a good note of him—how he's dressed, what he's doing, if he has any scars or strangeness. Don't tell anyone what you're doing, and don't make it obvious. And when you come back, you tell me all about what you've seen and heard."

  He gave me a hard push, as though urging me along the road to Toltoona, then just as sharply grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back again. He leaned very close and turned me to him, so that I could see every whisker around his full mouth, and every vein in his bloodshot eyes.

  "And there's one more thing, Jay." His voice was a hoarse whisper, and his stale breath filled my nostrils. "One more thing to look out for real special. And if you see it, or you hear talk of it, you come right back here at once, without waiting one second for anything. Look for a man with no arms, carrying on his back another man with no legs. The two-half-man, they call him. Anyone says those words, or talks about Dan and Stan, you let me know real quick. And then there'll be more money for you than you've ever seen in your life."