Hub - Issue 19

by Paul E Martens / Christopher Brosnahan / Paul Kane / Lee Harris

  Hub

  Issue 19

  10th August 2007

  Editors: Lee Harris and Alasdair Stuart.

  Published by The Right Hand.

  Sponsored by Orbit.

  Issue 19 Contents

  Fiction: Ten Thousand Spaceships by Paul E Martens

  Reviews: The 4400 (season 3), Friday Night in the Beast House

  Fiction (reprint): The Library by Christopher Brosnahan

  Apologies

  Last week’s issue contained the evocative ghost story The Library by Christopher Brosnahan.

  Unfortunately, though the story was published in full, a paragraph from a previously published story found its way to the end of the piece, spoiling the ending somewhat.

  Hub would like to unreservedly apologise to Christopher for this oversight, and to all our readers.

  The online issue will be amended shortly, to reflect the correct wording. In addition, the story is reprinted in full in this issue.

  About Hub

  Every week we will be publishing a piece of short fiction, along with at least one review (book, DVD, film, audio, or TV series) and we’ll also have the occasional feature, too. We can afford to do this largely due to the generosity of the people over at Orbit, who have sponsored this electronic version of the magazine, and partly by the generosity displayed by your good selves. If you like what you read here, please consider making a donation over at www.hub-mag.co.uk.

  Ten Thousand Spaceships

  by Paul E Martens

  There were ten thousand one hundred thirty eight spaceships scattered around the world, as if sown by some alien Appleseed. They seemed to sprout from back yards, front yards and driveways. They appeared on streets and on rooftops, next to huts and yurts and shanties. In the first few hours after they materialized, one thousand five hundred ninety seven of them closed their doors on curious visitors and took off, their destination, or destinations, unknown. Another two thousand six hundred five had visitors but neither closed their doors nor took off. The other five thousand nine hundred thirty six attracted stares, inspired by fear or awe, but no one was brave enough, or foolish enough, to enter them. The Authorities took charge of the ships and soon concluded that they awaited specific passengers and would blast off only when the one or ones for whom they waited entered. And, it was determined, they would fail to budge in any way if there was anyone extra aboard.

  For instance, the ship in the driveway of 441B Ludwigstrasse in Heidelberg did not take off when Helmut Schneider climbed in by himself, but when his son, Peter, joined him, Bang! Zoom! off they went, leaving Helmut’s wife, Gretel, all alone. Gretel made her way to a bar, got drunk, went home with a stranger, found herself pregnant and claimed the baby was an alien. She sold the story to the tabloids and earned enough money to start a business making hats. She was very happy, except when she missed Peter.

  Mary Conover’s spaceship stayed firmly in place in front of her Canberra home when the bloke from the government got in, even after Mary climbed on board behind him, but when the government bloke left, off Mary went. She had no family or friends, and worked from home on her computer. No one really cared that Mary was gone, except for the government bloke, who had had a brief fantasy about going off to an uninhabited planet with Mary to found a new race. He went home and listened to Puccini and wished again that he’d been born a girl.

  *

  Gerry Brignola’s spaceship was in his backyard, right on top of his daughters’ swing set. It was tall and sleek and gleamed in the morning sun like a castle in a fairy tale. A rocket ship! His rocket ship! His ticket to the planets, the stars, the universe.

  Of course the men and women from the FBI, or the Army, or Homeland Security or wherever, didn’t see it as actually belonging to Gerry.

  “Look,” Gerry said to them. He stood on the porch outside his back door, about as close as they would let him get to his ship. He was holding up the morning paper. “It’s all over the news. The rockets will only take off for the person they belong to. You can play around all you want, sooner or later you’re gonna have to let me have it.” They ignored him, just as they had for the last week, every other time he’d said pretty much the same thing. He sighed and went in to eat his breakfast.

  Nine-year-old Heidi was reading a book at the kitchen table, her cereal soggy and untouched in its bowl. Jill, who was six, had finished her cereal and had her arm inside the box, trying to find the toy it promised, unaware that Heidi had already claimed it by right of primogeniture. Jill gave him a grin, her smiling brown eyes implying she had either already done, or was contemplating doing, something she shouldn’t. Gerry’s wife, Marta, was nibbling an English Muffin and studying stock prices.

  A thought snuck up on Gerry. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe. His stomach collapsed in on itself and seemed to weigh as much as a neutron star.

  Marta said, “Gerry? What’s the matter? That thing in the yard is going to explode, isn’t it?” She stood quickly. “Girls, go out though the front and get in the car. I knew we should have gone to a motel until they took it away.”

  Gerry made a noise in his throat where his words had gotten stuck behind his heart. Then he managed to say, “No. No. It’s not that.”

  “What is it then?”

  “What’s the matter, Daddy?” asked Jill. “Did you shoot one of those damned burro-craptic busy bobbies?”

  Marta’s look of concern mingled with one reflecting a mother’s displeasure with her husband for speaking in the hearing of big ears.

  “No, Honey,” Gerry said. “Daddy didn’t shoot anybody. And don’t say damned.”

  Jill smiled and could be seen mentally filing the word away for later use.

  “So what is it, then?” asked Marta again. “You look like you just had a nightmare.”

  “Maybe I’m still having a nightmare,” he said.

  Marta sighed. “Would you please just tell me what’s bothering you?”

  He swallowed. “What if the rocket isn’t for all of us? What if I’m supposed to go and leave you all behind?”

  She took a step back, eyes wide, as if she’d been accosted by a free-range lunatic. “I’m not getting into that thing. And don’t you even think about trying to get the girls in there.”

  He blinked. “But ...”

  “And you don’t really want to go anywhere, either. Do you?”

  “But ...” He’d just assumed ... How could anyone have a rocket in their backyard, their very own spaceship, and not want to go?

  Marta kissed Gerry and caressed his cheek. “I know you think you’d like to go into outer space, honey, but you don’t.” She said it kindly, the way a wife reminds her husband that he’s actually retarded and would die in some idiotic manner if she wasn’t there to take care of him.

  “Yes, I do,” Gerry said. Didn’t he? “Of course I do. I started reading science fiction when other kids were still reading Dr. Seuss. I’ve seen every movie ever made that had anything to do with outer space or aliens. I know the names of all the astronauts since the original seven. And what about the rocket ship tattoo that I got in college?”

  “But what have you ever actually done when you were sober? Did you study astrophysics or celestial mechanics or learn to fly supersonic jets? Did you study medicine, or engineering or anything that could lead to your becoming an astronaut?”

  “Well, no, but ...”

  “You were an English major, and you became an insurance salesman. Is that what somebody who really wanted to go into space would do?”

  “Maybe.” How could he make her understand? “Sometimes a dream is just a dream. It isn’t a plan or a career path. But that doesn’t mean it’s not r
eal.” He stared at her as if he could download what was in his mind, in his heart, into her by some invisible wavelength broadcast by his eyes. “And sometimes dreams can come true, not because of anything you’ve done, but just because you want them to badly enough.”

  She shook her head. “No, honey.” She smiled sadly and seemed to be seeing something that wasn’t there. “Just wanting something isn’t enough,” she said softly, as if she spoke from experience.

  “Mr. Brignola?” A woman in a dark suit stood in the doorway. “We’d like you to come out and enter the ship.”

  “What? Me? Now?” His legs seemed to be off line, he wasn’t even sure he still had legs. Part of his brain was yelling, “Whoopee! We’re going into space!” Other parts weren’t convinced that a whoopee was warranted.

  “There’s no danger,” she said. “We’ll be onboard with you. It’s unlikely that the ship will take off.”

  But not impossible, he thought, wondering what it would be like to be trapped in outer space with a bunch of ‘burro-craptic busy bobbies,’ perhaps for the rest of his life.

  “I know that,” he said. “I’m just surprised you’re finally letting me into my spaceship.” He preceded her across the yard, stopping at the base of the rocket. From that angle, it seemed extraordinarily tall, as though, if he climbed to the top, he would already be halfway to the stars. He stared up at it until the G-woman coughed.

  He glanced back at her. “I’m going, I’m going. Thanks to you people this is the first time I’ve gotten this close to it, you know.” He touched a tail fin reverently then put his foot on the first step of the ladder, feeling like Neil Armstrong in reverse. He took a deep breath and climbed the rest of the way, and into the ship.

  It was just the way he knew it would be; all curves, and chrome and crystals, exactly like a Sci-Fi movie from the fifties, one of the good ones. There were four seats, couches, really. And screens, and dials and gauges. The cabin was filled with a soft, almost sepia, light that didn’t seem to come from anywhere in particular. Gerry felt like a Catholic in St. Peter’s, or a Make-a-Wish kid entering Disneyland. “Neato,” he whispered.

  There were four government men in the ship, plus the woman who had followed him. Three of the men shook their heads, as if unable to fathom the mysterious ways of civilians, but the other one gave him a wink and what Gerry decided was a empathetic smile.

  “All right, Mr. Brignola,” said one of them. “Have a seat.”

  Gerry looked at him, then at the seat, then back at him. “Um...”

  The man looked tired. “Look, we just want to see if the ship reacts in any way, if it registers your presence. It’s not going to take off. None of the rockets anywhere have taken off with anyone of any authority onboard.”

  “Not yet, anyway,” said the guy with the smile.

  “Shut up, Beasley.” The Agent of Whatever turned back to Gerry. “Please sit down. I thought you were so anxious to get in ‘your’ ship. Well, you’re in. Was all that talk just noise?”

  “No! But ... Well ... I mean ... my family isn’t here. I don’t want to risk taking off without them.”

  “I told you, it ain’t gonna happen.”

  Gerry looked at the couch, swallowed, closed his eyes, and sat.

  Nothing happened. He opened his eyes and saw the men and the woman checking the instruments, taking readings, measuring.

  “Okay. That’s it. Let’s pack it up,” said the guy in charge.

  “What do you mean?” asked Gerry.

  “I mean, we’re done. We’re leaving. There’s nothing more we can do. The ship is all yours.” He looked at Gerry. “Just like you wanted.”

  Gerry stuck his chin out at him. “That’s right. It is what I wanted..” The others started to make their way out of the ship. Gerry cut in front of two of them. “But, uh, like I said, I don’t want to go anywhere without my family, so if you’ll excuse me, I probably shouldn’t be the last one in here. Just in case, you know?”

  After the Feds left, Gerry and Marta had to deal with the press on their own. They stood on the front lawn, a vulpine semicircle of reporters hemming them in against the house.

  “When are you leaving?” The question was shouted at them.

  “We’re not entirely sure, actually,” Gerry said. Marta raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything.

  “But you are going, right?”

  “Um ...” Gerry deferred to Marta. “We’re not sure about that, either,” she said.

  More shouts came at them. Marta said, “Look, we don’t know when we’ll decide if we’re going, or, if we decide to go, when we’ll go. So you might as well all go away. We really don’t have anything else to say.” Together they turned and went in the house.

  After he closed the door, Gerry said, “So, there’s a chance that you will decide to get on the ship?”

  She looked at him as if he’d asked if there was a chance she would let him drop one of the girls from a tall building to see if she would bounce.

  Jill wandered into the living room. She eyed them indignantly, as if she held them responsible for the fact that she had an older sister. “Heidi went to the rocket ship,” she said. “And she told me I couldn’t go with her.”

  “Oh, my god,” Marta said. She and Gerry ran through the house and out the back door.

  “Heidi!” they both shouted. There was no sign of her in the yard. “Heidi!” they shouted again. Gerry reached the ship first and started up the ladder. Marta said, “Gerry! Wait!”

  He stopped in mid-climb. “What?” He glanced back at her briefly, then resumed his ascent.

  “Gerry. Stop. It’s okay.”

  He paused again. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s okay. If the ship was going to take off, it would have already.”

  “Oh,” he said. “Right.” He relaxed.

  “But if you go in ...”

  “Yeah.” He faced upward and called, “Heidi! Come on out, honey.”

  There was no reply.

  “Heidi? It’s okay. We’re not mad. Just come on out and let’s go back in the house.”

  There was quiet, then, “I can’t, Daddy. I hurt my leg.”

  Gerry climbed up to the hatch and looked in. Heidi was lying on the floor on the other side of the cabin, too far away for him to get to her without going into the ship himself. “What happened, baby? Can you scoot yourself over to me so I can lift you out?”

  She shook her head and bit her lip, fighting back tears. “I was standing on the chair trying to look at the dials and things and I fell off. I think my leg is broken maybe.” She almost stifled a sob. “It hurts when I try to move.”

  “Okay, honey. Hang on. I’ll be right back.” But Marta was already behind him on the ladder, trying to look around him to see Heidi. “Mommy is here, baby. Everything is going to be all right.”

  Gerry said to Marta. “I can’t get her without the chance of leaving you and Jill behind. And you can’t get her for the same reason. We can’t even send Jill in case we end up losing both of them.”

  Marta bit her lip, looking like Heidi. “What about an ambulance? Or Joe Welles from next door?”

  “There’s no way of knowing who will trigger it.” He grimaced as if steeling himself. “The only thing we can do is all go in together.” He went on before she could protest. “Do you want to take the chance of sending our daughter into outer space, maybe forever, with somebody she doesn’t even know?”

  Marta was silent for a moment. Then she said, “We could ask those government agents to come back. We know the ship didn’t take off with any of them in it.”

  “But Heidi wasn’t in there then.”

  Marta opened her mouth, then closed it. She glared at Gerry. “It certainly sounds as if yours is the only solution, doesn’t it? Almost as if you planned the whole thing to get your own way.”

  “Are you kidding? You think I would taking the chance that she would take off immediately? And that I would somehow arrange to br
eak her leg, too?”

  She looked as if she had been considering that very possibility and was reluctant to discard it. “Okay, fine. It’s not your fault. Do you have any suggestions that don’t involve taking off to who knows where in a rocket ship left by who knows what?”

  “Mom!” Heidi’s voice came out of the ship. “Mommy!”

  Marta eyes went to the hatch then back to Gerry. “And there’s no guarantee that it will even take all four of us.”

  “I know. But it might.”

  “Mom!”

  She raised her head. “Hang on, sweetie, I’m coming.” She looked back at Gerry. She rubbed his back gently. “I’m sorry, honey, we’re not going into outer space. Not today. Now let’s figure out how we’re going to get her out of there.”

  *

  There were two thousand seven hundred sixty two spaceships scattered around the world. Gerry stood in the doorway of his kitchen and contemplated the one in his backyard. Some days he was content just to know it was there. Some days it teased, tantalized and taunted him. He was so close to getting what he wanted.

  Unless he already had what he wanted.

  He turned his back on the ship and contemplated his family. Heidi was at the kitchen table doing her homework. Jill was in the family room, doing something that involved a doll, a toy truck, rubber bands and glue. Marta was watching the news. She glanced in his direction and smiled before returning her attention to the TV.

  He went over and sat on the sofa next to her.

  “What’s so great about Earth?” he asked.

  She took a second to answer, as if she had to decide whether or not to humor him. Again. “Well, air and water, for example. Sunshine, blue skies. People. Food. Movies, music, books, plays. Even television. How many do you want?”

  “What about the possibility that somewhere the air is sweeter and the water is clearer? What if there were two suns, or three and the sky wasn’t blue but golden? What if there’s somewhere better than Earth?”