"Yes, sir," Barker replied stiffly. "Have to be back for chow and evening classes, sir."
"Well, enjoy the sights wish you could stay longer."
The monk started to hoist the canisters up.
"Bell, Leonov, give the brother a hand."
"No, quite all right, zero gravity here. No problem at all."
"Where are you lugging them to, sir?"
"Ah, just to quarter gravity, but fine, you two can tote them if you want."
Justin obediently took one canister from the brother's hand and Tanya took the other. Barker motioned for them to follow the monk who led the way through the decontamination room, where they and the canisters were quickly scanned by the ship's computer for any threatening microbes. Once cleared, the monk led the way out of the zero-gee area, ascending the flight of steps that led to the gravitized region of the rotating sphere. Justin saw Barker turn and head off in the opposite direction. Justin wondered what delights he and Tanya might be missing but continued to follow the monk without complaint.
"How long have you youngsters been with the service?"
"We're first-year plebes, sir," Tanya replied.
" 'Brother Bartholomew,' please. Or just 'Brother Bart.' "
Justin looked over at the rotund monk. Such a sight was rather out of the ordinary in Indiana, and his own Presbyterian upbringing had rarely brought him into contact with genuine monks.
"I have a great-aunt aboard an Orthodox nunnery," Tanya volunteered.
"Ah, Russian then?"
"Yes, sir, I mean, 'Brother.'"
'Tour name?"
"Leonov."
Bartholomew broke into a grin. "Illustrious name. Any relation?"
"Yes, Brother. My great-grandfather was the first man to walk in space."
"An honor, then," Bartholomew announced. "We must celebrate."
He continued to lead the way upstairs, and the burden in Justin's hands grew heavier. He could only hope that they would arrive soon. Fortunately, they stopped just then and turned into a side corridor.
Justin had to suppress a gasp of astonishment.
The corridor was like the interior of an ancient gothic cathedral. Soaring arches joined overhead; the spaces where stained glass windows would have been on Earth were covered instead with high-stress plastishielding so that the wonders of space lit the chamber. Justin looked at a small chapel set into a niche. Earthlight shone through the window, revealing a row of monks who were softly chanting a service. As Brother Bartholomew passed he genuflected and made the sign of the cross. Tanya followed suit, making the Orthodox cross, and Justin awkwardly nodded. He stood paused in silent awe, listening to the medieval plain chant echoing in the corridor. He was stunned by the timelessness of it, as if a chapel hovering in high orbit was as it always had been.
Bartholomew motioned for them to follow and he stepped back into the stairwell.
"Always like to show that off to our visitors," Bartholomew offered by way of explanation as he bounded up to the next level and motioned for his two bearers to follow.
The next corridor had a uniquely different charm. This one was open as the first, with a soaring arched ceiling, but here the long chamber was planted with trees. Overarching branches heavy with apples, peaches and pears canopied the lengthy curving hallway. Monks wearing plain brown tunics tended the crop; Justin stepped to one side as a small electric crate rolled past pulling a wagon piled high with fruit. Bartholomew pulled out a couple of apples from the crate and tossed them to his companions.
Justin was delighted. On the farm back home they had several acres of apple trees and at any time of year it was fun to walk through the orchard, but he especially enjoyed it at harvest time when the air was heavy with the scent of ripening fruit.
He rubbed the apple on his tunic as he walked, admiring the shine before biting into it.
"Yellow Delicious," Justin announced, "my favorite."
"We grow half a dozen varieties here. There's another deck for subtropical fruit and one for tropical. Some wonderful blends come out of them."
"Blends?"
"You'll see."
"Ah, Brother, our shipment has it arrived?"
Justin saw an elderly monk rolling towards them on a power chair through a narrow pathway in the orchard.
"Yes, Brother Abbot, all safe and sound."
"Good, very good."
Bartholomew introduced them. Tanya was awed when the abbot, discovering her lineage, announced that he had been introduced to her great-grandfather when he had visited the old Soviet Union as a boy.
"A school group from Maine, oh, back let's see now back in 1986 it was. We went over there and met him at a conference. I'll never forget him. Funny, hope you don't take offense but he looked just like a comedy actor from long ago though the name of the three in that group escapes me."
The abbot laughed. "When you reach my age such things do tend to drift. We were all honored to meet your great-grandfather, just as I'm honored to meet you carrying on the family tradition."
Justin was surprised when Tanya bowed and asked for the monk's blessing. Justin shook his hand and the monk rolled on.
"Well over a hundred and still going strong," Bartholomew announced. "Space is good for folks like him." Justin looked back at a group working in the orchard and noticed that a number of the monks seemed quite old.
"A lot of men, when they reach their later years, they look for lives of contemplation," Bartholomew said, as if reading Justin's thoughts.
The monk smiled and looked over at Tanya, who was walking several paces ahead, and then back at the young cadet. "Once you hit eighty some of the distractions of youth are at last behind you."
Justin felt himself blushing, wondering if Bartholomew knew about the inner turmoil she was creating.
"So that's why our orbital monasteries are flourishing. More than a thousand monks on this one alone. We have several thousand others living here, too, lay brothers and sisters we call them. They are mostly part of our geriatric care center, which is our service to humanity since we are, after all, a serving brotherhood. Some of our residents were born as far back as 1950 and are still spry and fit. Low gravity is indeed a blessing.
"We lead a simple life prayer, tending our gardens, helping our patients. Our food is plain but there are a few indulgences we do allow."
He stopped and pointed towards a door that was nearly concealed under a rose-covered trellis. As he opened the door a rich heady aroma wafted out.
"Our distillery," Bartholomew announced. "Finest apple brandy in Earth orbit comes out of here. That's what you're carrying, spare parts; we were on our last backup for a few things and getting worried. Old Thorsson came through for us though, with this little emergency shipment."
A knot of monks gathered around the group as they came through the door. Eager hands grabbed the canisters carried by Justin and Tanya and the men scurried off, weaving through a line of vats and into a back room.
"Apple brandy, peach brandy, a few new concoctions we've cooked up from our tropical blends." Bartholomew led them over to a wooden table and motioned for them to be seated. A monk came up to them, bearing three small glasses and half a dozen flasks.
Bartholomew took one of the metal containers. He uncorked it, sniffed the contents, smiled and poured'out three minute samplings.
"Ah, sir, we're on duty and, well, sir," Tanya announced, "I don't think we should."
"Old Thorsson said it was all right as long as I didn't get any of you soused before dinner. Thorny and I go back a ways. I was his commander once."
The two looked at him, incredulous.
"Certainly was. Back aboard the Celestial Beagle on the run to Jupiter. Not all of us monks are as boring as you might think. Brother Abbot there was an out-and-out United States Marine, fought in three wars. Flew in the First and Second Gulf Wars. Old tradition in the church, warriors taking to the cloister late in life. We're seeing a lot more of that, with so many folks living to be ninety, a hu
ndred or more and still fit and active. Taking vows and coming out here to space has a certain appeal. Like I said, it's an old tradition, not just with us but with the Buddhists as well. I went to visit one of their Zen colonies last year; beautiful place their zero-gravity gardens are a wonder.
"You see, long ago monasteries both East and West were places of retreat, but that's hard to find in the modem world. Out here in space though, well, we have the whole universe to find the solitude and peace we desire as we search for the eternal. As you young cadets finally embark for the stars, the monasteries will not be far behind."
Bartholomew nodded towards the glasses.
"So, anyhow, a cadet's expected to hold his own when the occasion arises."
Having tasted brandy before, Justin accepted the glass. He swirled the contents around, sniffing them, then allowed a tiny sample to dance on his tongue.
"Delightful," he exclaimed, "better than grandpa's own stuff that we make on the farm." .
Tanya looked at the two hesitantly. Then, not to be outmatched, she downed hers as well, coughing hard after trying to take it all in one gulp.
Bartholomew laughed.
"Just like a Russian," he chortled. "One shot down the hatch."
An hour later the three stepped back out into the hallway.
"Now, you two children know your way back, don't you?"
"Sure, Brother," Justin replied.
"Take care, my friends. It was an honor to entertain you. And be sure to personally deliver that package."
Justin patted the box under his arm and nodded.
"The pleasure was all ours," Justin announced.
Justin waved cheerfully and motioned for Tanya to follow. She shook her head ruefully as she fell in by his side.
"I think you're slightly potzed," she said disdainfully.
"Nonsense. Blood alcohol of point zero two you saw him check us."
"Well, you're certainly no Russian, Justin. Point zero two wouldn't have one of us weaving like you are."
"Hey, us Hoosiers invented applejack. Why, Johnny Appleseed himself planted our orchard."
"Johnny who?"
"Oh, never mind. Wish I knew what was in this box." Justin held the box up and shook it, then tucked it back under his arm while letting his other arm drift around Tanya's waist.
"That's for Commander Thorsson, so don't go playing around with it. And Mr. Bell watch that other hand of yours as well."
She reached around and removed Justin's hand from her waist, and with a snort of displeasure motioned for him to speed up his pace.
Justin sighed, not sure if the drinks had indeed gone to his head or if he was simply using them as an excuse to try and put his arm around Tanya. Dutifully he fell in behind her, troubled again by her presence. The situation was made worse by the fact that the monks had opened up the shutters overhead, letting the sunlight stream in on the orchard. It created a strange effect the rotation of the ship caused the sun to rise and set every two minutes so that shadows raced across the ground. Sprinklers set both in the ground and overhead had been turned on and a gentle mist floated in the air, catching the shifting light so that the air seemed to sparkle. The moisture enhanced the ability of the air to carry scent, and every breath was rich with the fragrance of apples and an elusive trace of something that Justin knew was Tanya's perfume.
Without waiting for him she stepped into the corridor leading back to the zero-gravity core, but as she passed the doorway into the cathedral she paused and then stepped in. Justin followed her and was surprised to see her kneeling in the corridor, head bowed in prayer. Ashamed of what he had been thinking, he looked away in confusion. He saw a monk looking over at him, smiling gently, and realized the monk had seen him watching Tanya. The monk shrugged his shoulders, as if in sympathy and understanding. Justin smiled in return at the simple gesture which so eloquently summed up his own confusion.
He soaked in the beauty of the cathedral in space and the peace it offered, and he found himself wishing that he could somehow stay. At least there wouldn't be the fear, the loneliness and confusion, he thought. But some inner voice told him that maybe later far later this would be a place to seek, but for now there were other things to face.
Tanya made the sign of the cross, then stood up and walked to the door. .
"Now, can we behave ourselves?" she asked with a teasing smile.
"Sure, the Bells are always gentlemen," Justin replied with an amicable laugh.
She looked at him curiously and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. Her hand lingered for a second, then dropped.
"Come on, or we'll be late for the ride back. Remember, we've got a study date tonight." Smiling, the two bounded down the stairs.
Chapter IV
"Commander Thorsson, sir?" The commander of the Academy looked up from his holo screen. At the sight of Justin, he nodded and smiled.
"Come in, cadet, and please, stand at ease." Justin moved stiffly into the room in spite of the order. Though he knew the effects of Brother Bartholomew's concoctions had worn off, he was still nervous that Thorsson might know. Before making his way up to officer's country he had taken a quick shower, brushed his teeth twice, then changed into his class C jumpsuit.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Bell?"
"Sir, Brother Bartholomew aboard Franciscan Three insisted that I personally deliver this package."
Justin placed the box on Thorsson's desk and stepped back, hoping to be dismissed.
Thorsson smiled with delight as he opened the box; Justin saw four metal flasks inside the container.
"Ah, Franciscan brandy best in the Universe if old Barry had a hand in the making of it." Thorsson looked at him. "Tastes good, doesn't it?"
"Ah, yes, sir."
Thorsson smiled. "It's OK, I told him it was all right to let some of you cadets have a taste. Guess the old slug told you we served together."
"Ah, yes, sir, he did."
"Tell you anything about me?"
"No, sir."
Thorsson smiled as if glad that some sort of secret had been kept.
"Well, Barty could rig up a still in the most unlikely places; heaven alone knows where he'd get the juice to play with. Going to the Franciscans was a natural for him," and then he fell silent, his voice trailing off.
"Lost his entire family wife, three children. Those early days on Mars were tough lose a couple of supply ships or an air distillery breaks down, and people die." Thorsson shook his head sadly.
"I don't know if you know this, but his oldest girl, Margaret she was the first child born on Mars."
Thorsson looked off, silent for a moment. "The price there's always a price with the settling of a frontier."
Justin said nothing, wondering if he should withdraw.
"Sit down for a minute, Bell." Thorsson motioned to a chair next to his desk and Justin sat down on its edge.
"How are your studies going? Keeping up on Astro-Nav and nuclear physics?"
"Well, sir, I'm hanging on."
Thorsson nodded, smiling.
"Heard you're going out for the Skyhook Diving team."
Justin gulped and nodded.
"Crazy sport, never catch me doing it," Thorsson replied.
"Sir?"
"Flinging yourself off the Skyhook Tower, falling five hundred klicks. No thank you reentry on the old rockets was tough enough on the nerves. Used to scare me to death."
Justin looked at Thorsson, not sure how to reply to the Commanders admission of fear. It was impossible to believe such a thing in Thor Thorsson.
"Back in the old days, before the Skyhook, the only way down to Earth was standard reentry. Looks exciting enough in the old vids, but believe me, son, it used to scare the pants off me. Outside temps would soar up a couple of thousand degrees When we were flying those old government shuttles, you know what I used to think?"
"What, sir?"
"That this machine was built by the lowest contract bidder. I think I told you how when I
was a boy I saw one of the old first-generation shuttles lift off."
Justin nodded, slightly awed that the man before him had memories of the 20th century space program.
"Well, I remember when one of the original shuttles peeled a heat tile on reentry. The thing opened up like a zipper once that first hole was punched. They never released it but years later, while I was in training, I heard the cockpit recording of the crew. It wasn't pleasant."
Thorsson looked off for a moment.
"Anyhow, I used to dwell on that. Funny how each of us has our own special fear that we rarely admit. For some, it's getting spaced; for others it's a micro-meteor punch while out in a suit, even though the odds against that are next to nil. Others just fear being alone, meeting the Tracs, or simply 'pulling a Hansen.' For me it was burning on reentry. Liftoff was fine I loved it but once we were up I sweated out reentry even though it might be months away. Used to keep me up late at nights."
Thorsson laughed softly.
"Remember, I was one of the biggest proponents of the Skyhook. Sure, I gave all the arguments before committees about the ultimate payback on the trillion-plus investment. In just ten years we're seeing that already. But down deep, son, well down deep I wanted the darn thing so we could get rid of reentry."
Thorsson smiled and leaned back in his chair.
"So now you know my little secret. Hope you don't think less of me."
Justin was startled. "No, of course not, sir."
"When do you go for your first dive, Bell?'
"We're supposed to go this weekend, sir."
"Fine, that fits the schedule."
"Schedule, sir?"
"You and forty other plebes are getting a posting, son."
"A posting?' Justin was startled. Usually a cadet spent a year at the Academy before going out on his first assignment.
"Little change in policy. It's just a standard run out to an orbital base near Mars. Most of the ship's space was empty it's an old design run now by a skeleton crew, so I managed to convince Fleet Assignment to let me throw some plebes aboard. There won't be much shipboard duty, and thus plenty of time to keep up on your studies. You'll be gone a month. I thought it'd be a good incentive for some of our top plebes to get a shot at it, and might provide some good training as well."
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