Julius guffawed involuntarily. “You didn’t just say spacewalk, did you?”
“Sure,” Zak replied, as though this were the most ordinary thing in the world.
Julius shot Mesilla a glance which left her momentarily concerned that he’d actually shat his pants.
“It’ll only take a minute, and I reckon you’ll love it.” She did have a calming manner, Julius noted, even when cordially inviting him to flirt with catastrophe.
“A spacewalk? By The Five...”
They donned suits, carried out checks and waited for Zak to give the word. Mesilla showed him how to use the simple hand controller on the suit’s thigh. “The joystick activates compressed air thrusters on the suit which give you fine control over direction. Just pulse them a couple of times and you’ll head off in a new direction.” Julius’ mind was a hive of excitement; he had barely allowed himself to dream of floating freely in space, but now, with no more than a moment’s preparation, he was ushered out of the shuttle by a motioning Zak.
“There’s a big blue light on the airlock door. Follow Zak to it, then wait for his commands.” Mesilla gave Julius a tiny nudge forward and he entered open space. “Way to go, Space Boy,” she purred over the intercom system. “You’re a natural.”
There were only a few seconds to take in the experience. Julius was able to glance back at the shuttle. It was floating steadily, its underside tethered to a robotic arm which held it firmly in place. It was very dark, save for the shuttle’s cockpit lights and the blue beacon on the airlock, so Julius was not confronted with the vastness of the canister interior. Instead, he watched Zak tap at the airlock console and swing the rectangular, white door slowly outward.
“OK! Everyone get themselves in. Short bursts from your controllers, please,” he reminded them. “We don’t want anyone floating off in here.” Zak shepherded his crew into the airlock and motioned for Arby to close the door behind them. Repressurization was quick, and before long their suits were shed and stowed in large panniers by the inner airlock hatch. The team floated in the access tunnel, excitedly awaiting Zak’s command to continue. “Mesilla, would you show our new crewman to the lounge? I’m going to freshen up in my quarters, then I’ll come and party hearty with you guys.”
Arby whooped and nudged Julius along the tunnel while Zak disappeared through a small access door. ‘You’re gonna love this,” he assured their newest crewman. “Much, much nicer than the shuttle.”
Extending perhaps thirty meters from the docking canister was a thin access tunnel, down which the crew now floated, using handholds and a bit of mutual shoving and pushing. At the end of the tunnel was obviously a large, open space and Arby simply couldn’t wait to get there. He pushed himself off with abandon and floated straight into the lounge singing boisterously as he rotating through the generous space.
“Welcome to the lounge,” Mesilla said warmly.
“By The Five,” Julius gasped once more, and with good reason. Orion was unlovely as a freighter, but beautifully appointed for crew comfort. The lounge was a spherical space, almost as broad as an ore canister. There were giant horseshoe sofas, a bar as long as their shuttle’s wingspan, and games of every kind strewn around the enormous space. Huge multimedia screens were plastered across some of the walls and the view was simply staggering, the long horizon of their freighter spread out like a glittering, high-tech landscape in white and silver.
“Take a seat. You’ll need it.” Julius was too mindblown to argue. She took his hand and led him to one of the big, curved couches. “Settle yourself into a corner. It’s easier that way.”
“Easier?”
“Here comes the G!” Arby announced. With that, Julius noticed a white object high above them, suspended on a long, thin boom. As it began to move, the whole or Orion seemed to slip down under the windows, only to reappear a few seconds later. The pace of the spin increased quickly and, by the third revolution, he felt a pressure on his chest similar to that of liftoff, but more gentle and familiar.
“The G-tether provides a rough but serviceable 0.75-G in here,” Mesilla said as they were gently – but quite firmly – pinned to the couch. “This’ll help our bones keep their calcium and our muscles avoid degradation. Without it, we’d be crippled by osteoporosis and muscle wastage.” Mesilla had a calming way of delivering alarming news. “You’ll find it exactly like walking around on Qelandi, only each step might actually push you off the floor, and objects will take a little longer to fall to the ground.”
“Sounds comfortable,” Julius offered.
“It’s great for games!” Arby opined. “We’ll throw you up in the air and see how many bowls you can smoke before you hit the ground.”
“Arby call it ‘hits before you hit’. It’s a favorite,” Mesilla explained to a bemused Julian. She was finding his naiveté just adorable, and seemed quite happy to show it. He’d never known such warm affection from a woman. He added it to his mental list of ‘New things I’m going to love getting used to’.
“So what happens now?” he asked, wide-eyed.
“Now we party like it’s the end of the world!” enthused a refreshed Zak, bounding into the lounge and high-fiving a delirious Arby. Mesilla bounced over to the bar and began mixing a massive pitcher of something orange and, by Arby’s gleeful reaction, perhaps almost lethally potent. Zak brought out his little silver pipe and took a massive, lung-busting hit, held it for as long as he possibly could, until his eyes watered and smoke leaked from his nose, and then exhaled in a contortion of coughing. The two crewmates familiar with this initial pre-party ritual applauded with gusto.
Julius raised a confused eyebrow and grabbed the rotund engineer before he took off for some more low-G terpsichore. “Hey, Arby?” He whispered to the big man, trying to hide his inexperience from the bar-tending Mesilla. “What does Zak mean by… erm… party?”
***
Chapter 20: The Bay of Islands
“I absolutely refuse to believe that.”
Kiri was working through a period of denial. Her mind, her body, even the watch on her wrist, all conveyed that mere moments had passed since she had fallen asleep in her module. She had awoken from the briefest catnap, no more than a couple of minutes. At the very most.
“How would you like us to prove it to you?” asked Paul. He had emerged minutes earlier from his own module, woken by a steady chemical process which left him feeling fine, neither particularly rested nor especially tired. This was a relief, as Kiri was taking some careful handling.
“You can’t possibly be serious. There’s just no way.”
Haley had taken longer to wake, although Hal seemed unworried. She stretched and shook out her hair as if rousing herself after a full night’s sleep. Once ready, she floated down from her module to join the squabbling pair on the ‘floor’ of the cabin, where Velcro strips and grab handles made it just about possible – with effort – to stay in one place. “Did everyone sleep well?” she asked cheerily.
“Can’t complain,” said Paul. “Hal’s bringing us into an orbit now. Are you OK?”
“Better than Kiri.” She glanced at the confused brunette, who continued to struggle with the psychological aspects of their journey.
“Paul says we were asleep for three hundred years,” she complained. “Tell him how nuts that is!”
“If I may?” Hal chimed in.
“Sure, Hal,” Paul said. He was feeling a little groggy, and rather unprepared to help cushion the impacts of hypersleep. Kiri, after all, had been trained for years to travel using the very module from which she’d just emerged.
“You existed, for three centuries, within a bubble of spacetime which suspended the conventional cause-and-effect relationships.”
“Sure,” Kiri said.
“Then,” Hal asked, “what’s the problem?”
“Go easy, buddy,” Paul requested. “You’ve never hibernated. It’s pretty disorienting.”
“Actually,” Hal said, “I have. Remember whe
n I arrived for our meeting in Earth orbit some six billion years early?”
“Woah…” Haley began. In zero-G, her curly red hair formed a symmetrical cloud around her head. Paul almost resented her tying it back, to keep it out of her eyes. “What’s he talking about?”
“Later,” Paul said. “Hal, how about we get into orbit and see about fuelling up?”
“Roger that,” the machine said. “I’ve computed an equatorial orbit and we’re coming up on the injection burn. Everyone strap in, please.”
Haley joined Paul in the cockpit, while Kiri unfolded a new seat which Hal had installed just aft of the dining table. She buckled up and, a few moments later, they began hearing the solenoids of the ship’s thruster system clicking and buzzing to orientate Phoenix for the burn.
Hal counted them down. “Three, two, one… Ignition.”
They were pushed forward slightly against their restraints as the engines fired for a long, low-impulse thrust. The G-forces were appreciable but not unpleasant, even after three hundred years in microgravity. Six minutes later, a new light filled the cabin as the Phoenix completed the burn and tipped over onto its tail.
“Wow.” Haley was the first to appreciate the view. “This is a pretty planet.”
From three hundred miles up, the design of Araj Kitel was clear. Large, scattered islands, ringed by tropical beaches, were separated by stretches of sunlit ocean. Each was home, they could see, to a great tract of rainforest, apparently unspoiled by construction or infrastructure. The sea glinted appealingly; neither Haley nor Kiri had ever set foot in an ocean before.
“This,” Kiri offered, “is going to be fun.”
“May I tell you a little about our destination?” Hal asked.
All three responded enthusiastically in the affirmative.
“This is a very special planet, unlike any other,” Hal began. “It is the result of a design project, begun many centuries ago. The self-styled ‘steward’ of the planet has designated it an experimental station for highly advanced research in evolutionary biology and wave physics. This explains its main features: large, scattered islands covered with remarkably lush vegetation which play host to an impressive diversity of animal life.”
The two women were grinning broadly.
“Between the islands are carefully designed continental shelves. They concentrate the oceanic currents in ways intended to provide data on wave motion in large bodies of water.”
“Sounds like it could be a good place for some surfing,” Paul speculated.
“One of the best. In fact, the planet has been a runaway success. Its animal life, most of it entirely unique to this planet, is remarkably diverse and includes many animals engineered to produce certain outputs.”
Haley raised an eyebrow. “Outputs?”
“I’d rather let you enjoy the surprise,” Hal said.
”So when can we go?” Kiri asked excitedly.
“We’ll enter a stable orbit in the next hour, and after that we can select an approach pattern. We won’t be able to land, so your egress will be slightly unorthodox.”
The two girls exchanged glances. “Will it be safe?” Haley asked.
“Oh, absolutely,” Paul replied. “Grab your gear. I think it’s going to be sunbathing time pretty soon.”
They grinned and made to gather their simple belongings, a backpack each and broad sun-hats, newly replicated for the occasion. Paul watched them pulling themselves purposefully from one side of the cabin to the other, checking inside their sleep modules to make sure nothing had been forgotten. Their zeal and youthfulness were a tonic to his troubled mind.
Retrofire would be a sudden deceleration, and Paul made sure the girls were strapped into their jump seats. When it came, the G-force on his chest reminded him just how agreeable zero-gravity had become; were it not for the dangerous rate of muscle loss and bone decalcification, he’d probably have chosen to live permanently in weightlessness. As it was, the gravity tugged inexorably on every object in the cabin, including the passengers. “Just breathe deep and easy,” Paul advised. “The pressure won’t last long.” Both women had their eyes closed and were focusing just on filling their lungs in a regular pattern; each felt as though a huge weight had been placed on their chests.
Their speed dropped steadily and, within moments, the curved horizon had flattened out. They descended further to glide noiselessly over a vast ocean, an plain of deep blue interrupted only by the bright, sandy coastline of a huge island which loomed ahead. As the Phoenix continued its approach pattern, the island proved to be covered in dense, green jungle of the kind only found in the least disturbed equatorial zones on Earth. No roads scarred its continuity; it stretched literally from the edge of the beach into the invisible interior.
“Where are we going to land?” Haley asked as she peered through the front windows.
Hal replied, “This planet does not have a spacefaring infrastructure in the usual sense. We’re going to have to drop you in the surf.” The airlock opened, letting in wonderfully warm air, fragrant with the salt of the sea and richly oxygenated by the planet’s vast forests. “I’ll give you a count. We’ll hardly be moving, so it’s quite safe.”
Paul watched as the girls unstrapped from their jump seats and stood nervously at the hatch, chattering with excitement. “When will we see you, Paul?” Kiri asked as the Phoenix entered a slow, circling pattern, as close to a hover as her thrusters permitted.
“Oh don’t worry about us. We’re just going to take a look around and then we’ll catch up with you.” Hardly had he spoken, Hal gave the command and the two women screamed loudly as they jumped the twelve feet into the water. Circling round, Paul could see the gentle surf lapping a stunning white sand beach, and the two girls paddling in a steady backstroke, hands joining as they reached the shore. As the ship began its ascent, Paul just caught just a glimpse of Haley lifting her sodden shirt over her head. “Flight time to our destination is around ten minutes, Paul.”
“Thanks, Hal. Well done for getting the girls away safely. I think they’ll love it there.”
“I’m quite sure of it,” he replied.
“So, now they’re happily sunbathing, do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Everything’s going to plan.”
“Whose plan?” Paul found intense discomfort in his own helplessness. He needed to know, and to be part of the decisions which affected his life. Being subject to Hal’s backroom machinations was profoundly irritating.
“Once on the surface, we’ll be met by a friend. I believe you’ll find him most interesting,” Hal said.
“And who might that be?” There was the beginning of a snarl in his voice.
“The girls will, as you can see, have no shortage of pleasant, equatorial beaches to lay on. Much of the land mass is inhabited only by harmless creatures, and the water is at an ideal temperature for...”
“Stop.”
“You don’t think we should let them swim, in case of...”
“Hal, STOP. You’re dodging my every question. You’re plotting with an unknown power to influence this journey. Pre-arranged meetings are far beyond the parameters we agreed. Whatever happened to avoiding interfering with the original timeline?”
The computer spoke with a quiet patience. “I’m not trying to be difficult.”
“Help me understand what you’re trying to do. I can’t... I don’t think I can take being cut out like this. I need to know that I can trust you, Hal.”
“Of course you can. Your safety and the success of this mission are my primary concerns,” Hal reassured him.
“But what are your primary motivations?”
“Service.”
Paul made a rude noise. “You’re way too sophisticated to start tweaking a 2000-year interstellar mission simply to render service! Tell me the truth, Hal. Go on, I can take it.”
“You’ll see. I mean that. You’ll see everything soon,” Hal assured him. “It’s just better that way.”
>
Paul could have grilled the supercomputer at length, but for the moment, he decided to let it go and they continued the trip in silence. Phoenix rounded the coast of the island, the lurid greens of the forest offering stark and beautiful contrast to the aquamarine of the shore, the iridescent white of the beach and the calming, deep blue of the open ocean. Paul put Hal’s scheming aside and just tried to enjoy the picturesque location.
“You know, this would be a world-class tourist destination on Earth,” he said.
“Year-round temperatures are between sixty and eighty Fahrenheit,” Hal said. “Storms are quite rare and carefully controlled, and the water is at a perfect bathing temperature.”
“Sounds idyllic. You might have trouble getting us to leave,” Paul quipped.
“Well, we’re on a schedule,” Hal reminded him. “We’re almost there. Prepare to disembark, please.” As he stood to head for the hatch, Paul spotted the very obviously man-made, regular structure which covered a stretch of beach where the land jutted out to sea. A sweeping, maroon canopy offered shelter to a seating area where several figures waited, apparently for his arrival. It would be as unusual an entrance as he was ever likely to make, jumping into the sea and swimming ashore to meet his hosts. For a second, he was reminded of the outrageous parachute jump from space he had perpetrated as part of Senator Beasley’s 2032 election campaign. Only this time, he mused, he was arriving on an alien shore even stranger than a political rally in Montana.
The water was wonderful. Paul plunged feet-first and went five feet deep, but quickly surfaced and began a steady breast-stroke towards the beach while Hal piloted Phoenix away and back into orbit. Squinting at the bright sunlight of this strange, if sensationally beautiful beach, he made out two standing figures who had approached the waves. They stood, tall and patient, in flowing white and purple garments of a kind Paul had never seen before. Both were surprisingly tall, over seven feet Paul guessed, and wore the beneficent smiles of the endlessly patient. One had a long, drawn face with dark underlines to his eyes; the other was rounder, both facially and bodily, but equally as tall. They clasped their hands at their navel in identical gestures of patience. Paul immediately had the impression of wading ashore to be greeted by a pair of gangly, peaceable monks.
Clarion: The Sequel to Voyage (Paul's Travels) Page 24