The Sunspacers Trilogy

by George Zebrowski

  “Calm down,” I said. “Things will settle when classes start.”

  He got up and left the room.

  I let out a deep breath as the door slid shut. Then I looked around the room as if in a trance. Morey made me feel that I would never grow up. Maybe no one ever did, and all the adults were faking it; and Morey was faking the nonexistent wisdom of old age. He had done it all through high school. I knew his feelings about politics, and that he held his views honestly. I understood what he meant, but the way he applied it to the Mercury situation rubbed me the wrong way. I couldn’t shake the suspicion that Morey really wanted to be Christopher Van Cott.

  I punched up 1088.

  Linda’s face appeared in the screen. “Oh, hello,” she said, surprised. To me it sounded as if she had said, “O hollow,” which showed what kind of state I was in. Morey and I had often disagreed, but it had always been friendly. Linda’s smile was a welcome relief.

  “Say,” I croaked, “like to go out?”

  “What?”

  I cleared my throat. “Would you like to go out?”

  “Oh.” I thought she was going to laugh at me.

  “Would you like to go out this evening, with me?” I managed to say.

  She stared at me for a moment. “Say, how tall are you?”

  “Uh, about a hundred and seventy-five centimeters. Do you want to or not?”

  “I’ll meet you in the courtyard of your dorm.”

  She smiled and blanked the screen.

  The night was a bright lunar twilight with a million stars scattered across the blue-green inner surface. The polar Sun rings were a soft blue-white. I stepped closer to the rock garden in the courtyard and read that the minerals and sand were all from the Moon. Then I gazed upward, picking out the roads leading in and out of the town on the other side of the world.

  “Hello.”

  I turned around. Linda stood in front of me. “Hi,” I said. She was about my height, maybe a half inch taller.

  She stepped close to me. I felt her breath on my cheek. “People from Earth grow slower,” she said, smiling.

  “I hope you weren’t busy, when I called, I mean.”

  “Just about to wash my hair.”

  I took in a deeper breath. The knots in her braids looked even more complicated than I remembered. She looked delicious, and she seemed to like me. I felt my pulse quicken.

  “I was going to take it out,” she said. “Would you like it long?”

  “Sure.”

  She smiled again. “Do you like it like this, with the braids piled on top?”

  “Sure.”

  She touched my cheek gently. “You’ll say anything. Where do you want to go?”

  “How do you know people from Earth grow slower?” I asked feebly.

  “Higher gravity to overcome. You know that. Where are we going?”

  “How about the movie museum?” I asked, happy at my good luck.

  “What’s playing?”

  “Let’s go and see.”

  “Okay, Sorby, let’s go.” Her use of my last name surprised me.

  She hooked her arm in mine, and we marched across the courtyard. I glanced at her, and she smiled as we started on the path to the student center.

  “You’re making fun of me,” I said.

  “I call everyone by their last name until I know them better.” She gave my arm a squeeze.

  We circled the big white cake of the student center. The museum came into view—a one-story circular building tucked away among some pine trees. We came closer and saw what they were showing: WAR OF THE WORLDS

  THE TIME MACHINE

  “Old stuff,” she said. “Over a hundred years old. Flat screen, messy sound.”

  “It’s probably been cleaned up and in 3-D, but we can always ask for something else.” I stopped and looked at her. “Were you expecting me to call?”

  “Well—”

  I could see that she was tempted to lie about it. “No, Joe,” she said finally, “honestly, I wasn’t.”

  Maybe someone else had stood her up. She was at least using my first name now.

  “But I wanted you to call,” she added, startling me.

  “What would you really like to see?” I asked, recovering.

  She put a finger to her temple and closed her eyes in mock concentration. Her tight-fitting tan denim suit revealed that she was small breasted and thin, but her small waist made her hips seem rounder.

  “Maybe if they have a Bergman, she said, opening her slightly tilted eyes wide. “Got a good look?”

  “What?”

  She laughed, and I swallowed hard. “You’ve probably seen every film they have,” I said.

  She hooked her arm in mine again. “Lets go for a walk instead.” I felt her warmth and wanted to put my arm around her. I had not gone out since breaking up with Marisa. It seemed very long ago, and I was a bit nervous as well as excited.

  “Do you have brothers or sisters?” she asked.

  “There’s just me.”

  “Not even one?” She made me feel that I should have double-checked, just to be sure.

  “Families are smaller on Earth.” I looked up, and again it seemed strange not to see a sky. I kept seeing all the lights as stars. “Where can you see the stars?” I asked. “I mean directly.”

  “Why? We’d have to wear safety suits on the maintenance level, and the view would be spinning anyway. Let’s go to your room. I’ll show you how to punch up views from the observatory.”

  “I know how to do that,” I said, missing the point that she wanted to be alone with me.

  “You’veseen stars,” she said.

  “Not the way I’d like to—outside, in a spacesuit,” I replied, turning us down the path to my dorm. “Do you have any large birds here?” I asked.

  “Sure—ducks and geese.”

  “What happens when they fly into the center?”

  “Well, theydon’t get stuck. They sort of swim out.”

  I laughed, feeling that she was interested in me but didn’t know what to make of me. I knew I was being moody, picking up on things late. Morey had upset me more than I had realized.

  The ceiling flowed with light as we entered the room.

  “Here, Joe, look at this,” Linda said, sitting down at my desk.

  I leaned over her shoulder. “There’s the twenty-kilometer O’Neill colony cylinder,” she said, touching the screen, “and assorted factories nearby.” The view changed, but remained within the L-5 area of space. “Here’s the asteroid hollow.” It looked like a giant potato, cratered and ridged, but was growing green on the inside of the hollow rock, as natural as planting flowers in clay pots.

  “I’d like to visit that one,” I said.

  “They’re pretty stuck up over there. Many of the people are the original asteroid miners who brought the rock into L-5, and they’ve never gotten over slapping each other on the back about it.”

  “Well—why not? The Asteroid Belt is a long way from here. You sound like someone from Earth.”

  “We have a right to be critical of ourselves. It’s been over twenty years since the hollow was brought in, and many of us feel it wasn’t all that necessary, since we can build anything we want out here, without using old rocks.”

  “I read that the metals mined to make the hollow gave Earth quite a boost at the time.”

  “Right—Earth, not us. We still had to get our materials from the Moon. It slowed up development of L-5 for a decade, but it made us more self-reliant. Sure, we have a lot of rivalry among ourselves, but it’s friendly.”

  “Tell me about the bad feelings toward Earth.”

  She turned around and looked at me. “I guess you reallydo want to ruin our evening.”

  I retreated and sat down on my bed. “Sorry.”

  “I’ve never met anyone from Earth,” she went on, “who really understood. Don’t they teach you anything there? Look—Earth gets everything from us. Power, minerals, drugs, manufactured products of
all kinds. Power for the lofting lasers at the spaceports comes from our orbital Sun rigs, and so will the increased power loads for the new gravity catapults. We handle all communications throughout the solar system. Believe me, the antigrav corridors from Earth will use a lot of power—”

  “But who would want to deny all this?” I said, feeling a bit defensive.

  “Don’t you see?” she said. “A political struggle has been going on for some time. Power is shifting to the Sunspacers.”

  “Well, it happens,” I said, “but we’re all the same humanity. We come from the solar system.”

  She shook her head. “Eventually, that’s the way it will be. But in the meantime multinational companies are dying. Politicians are losing their bases of power and influence. No one minds the world being richer and people living better. It’s the loss of power that hurts most. Whole worlds are being built out here that don’t owe to Earthside politicians.”

  I shrugged. “More adaptable leaders will win out. It’ll even out.” I was sounding a bit like Morey, and I didn’t like it.

  “Right. Earth won’t really suffer economic hardship. It’s what happens in the transition that’s worrying many of us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The people who came out here worked hard, Joe. They built the industrial centers on Luna, Mercury, Mars, and the Asteroids. But they didn’t have any real say about their lives until they had something to bargain with, in the form of deliverable energy and resources. Then the politicians lined up for power positions in Earth Authority, which gave them their base for local national power. And then it occurred to the home world that it wouldn’t do to let the various Sunspace Settlements get too self-sufficient. Big decisions are still made by Earth Authority, no matter how many representatives from Sunspace sit in.”

  “But from what I know, the Mercury situation is the only real complaint.…”

  “That’s enough! Do you know what’s going on out there?”

  “Well, I’ve heard it’s bad.…”

  She was quiet suddenly.

  “I’m very interested, Linda.”

  She smiled. “Sorry to shout. You’re right, the Sunspace Settlers are doing very well—so well that Earth is recognizing their importance. But that’s what makes the Mercury problem so intolerable, by comparison.”

  “Were you born here?” I asked.

  “No, but I grew up here. My parents brought my brother and me from New Zealand when we were babies. Both our parents died in a shuttle accident when we were in high school.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, feeling inadequate.

  Linda was looking at the floor. “Kik dropped out of school and apprenticed himself so we could stay, but I think he wanted to leave school and work in a trade anyway. We’re on our own now, so he could go back, but I think he’s one of those people who can’t appreciate it until they’re older.”

  I wondered if I was the same.

  “We’re different,” she continued, “but we’re very close. He looked out for me. I hope I get a chance to help him someday.”

  “What are you studying?” I asked, trying not to think about myself.

  “Economics and metallurgy. Materials synthesis in general. I want to help make decisions out here one day.” She got up and sat down next to me. “Sorry I shouted, she said again, “but I like you, and I can’t stand people I like being … well, confused.”

  “I wanted to know.”

  She leaned against me. I slipped my arm around her slender waist, and she looked at me suddenly, her eyes wide, face slightly flushed. We wanted each other, and we both knew it.

  We kissed, and I felt the tension between us drain away. Her body seemed soft and firm at the same time.

  “Good?” she asked after a while, her warm breath tickling my nose.

  “Hmmmmmm,” I said, looking forward to the rest of the evening.

  “One kiss and your mind crumbles,” she whispered, smiling radiantly.

  I laughed, and she kissed me fiercely.

  My phone buzzed.

  “Probably my roommate, checking to see if the room is free.” I struggled to the desk and opened the line, but not the picture.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Joe? Eva and I are on a conference link,” Dad answered after the three-second silence.

  I sat down.

  “Where’s your pic?” Mom asked cheerfully.

  “Busted, I guess, but I hear you fine.”

  “How’s it going?” Dad said.

  “Good. How are you two doing?” I couldn’t think of what else to say. Linda got up and left the room as I waited.

  “Have you guests?” Mom asked. “We’ve disturbed you.”

  “No—no, I was only studying.”

  Silence.

  “On Friday night?” Dad said. “Has the term started?” He should have known that classes started on Monday.

  “Just looking over course books, actually.”

  As I waited for the silence to pass, it occurred to me that the call had disturbed Linda somehow, that she had not left just to let me talk in private.

  “That’s very good,” Mom said, trying to sound caring. I resented the effort.

  “Are you there, son?”

  “Yes, Dad, I’m here.” I opened the visual and saw their faces on the split screen. They tried to look cheerful as my picture reached them.

  “There you are,” Dad said. “You look good. No doubts, I see.”

  “I’m glad,” Mom added.

  “Tell you what,” Dad said. “One or both of us will try to call at least once a week.”

  “I’ll be here.” One, two, three.

  “Take care,” Mom said as the picture faded.

  I got up and went to the door, thinking that Linda was waiting outside. I stepped out and looked in both directions, but the hallway was empty.

  “Linda,” I said loudly, hoping that she had simply gone for a walk around the turn. There was no answer. I went looking for her, but it was obvious after a moment that she had left.

  I was angry when I returned to the room, but not at Linda. My parents had called me to say nothing important, and had ruined my evening at the same time. Actually, I was as much puzzled as angry. Was I such bad company that Linda had taken the chance to get away?

  |Go to Table of Contents |

  8

  Classes

  I walked around the campus circles that Saturday. My weight dropped slightly as I wandered away from the center line of the equator, but I couldn’t really feel the difference until I had gone a ways and come back. I looked at a lot of buildings, tennis courts, and swimming pools. The crystal-clear openness of Bernal’s inner space was a wonder that could not be worn out.

  Once in a while I saw a sign:

  NO CHILDREN PAST POINT C

  Only adults were permitted to live in the lower-g regions around the poles. Children needed something close to Earth gravity to grow normally, especially if they ever wanted to return to Earth. Kids were common in the rural toruses, which were outside the sphere and free of changes in gravity. Child monitors routinely returned children who escaped into low-g zones.

  The campus seemed deserted. Everyone was resting up from the partying of the night before and getting ready for tonight’s socializing. I sympathized with Morey and wished that it were Monday, even though I knew that for most students it was just a way of building up motivation for schoolwork. Morey didn’t need it, apparently, and I was in no mood, after Linda, to start something that might distract me from my resolve to give college a long, hard shot.

  I sat around in the student-center lounge, listening to more about Mercury on the news holos. A strike by the miners would cut off the flow of metals into Earth’s industrial space, with serious consequences for the quality of life on Earth itself. The commentator also claimed that the Near Earth Space Habitats would also suffer to some degree, but I wondered if this was an attempt to shift the sympathies of a portion of the Sunspacers away
from Mercury’s mining community. It was true that Bernal and the other habitats needed rare metals and structural components to keep up their maintenance, but I couldn’t believe that shortages would be life threatening. Another commentator pointed out that the habitats were well stocked with maintenance supplies. The profits of many companies would drop, however. No one really thought that would be a good thing, but the Sunspacers were willing to sacrifice to help their sister community.

  I got up after a while and walked back toward the dorm, wondering about Linda. I wanted to call her, but why should I put her on the spot? If she wanted to see me again, she would call and explain why she had disappeared, or she would ignore me. I couldn’t believe that she had been faking her attraction for me. There had to be other reasons. I would have to wait and see.

  The small amphitheater was crowded on Monday morning. I found an aisle seat in the back row.

  The room quieted at 9:01. My empty stomach rumbled gently, and I wondered if it was going to detect coriolis acceleration after all.

  “I’m Gordon Vidich,” the Physics 1 professor said in a rich bass. He was middle-sized, black hair combed straight back, looking like glossy paint from where I sat. “Most of you are preparing for a science career. How many physicists?” Half the hands shot up, most of them belonging to women. I figured I could become a physicist even if I didn’t raise my hand. “A few pet peeves,” he continued. “I know that you’re in love with the mystery of the universe, with what’s out there as well as with the bit of you that’s curious about it. Existence is ultimately mysterious, but we do know a lot, short of final answers. Speculate, butplease show mealwaysthat you know the difference between the assemblage of facts we call a theory and speculations that may or may not contain a few sparse facts. I want to see in youa habit of mind that will always pit theory and speculation againstsome kind of experimental experience.” I pictured him peeling off his thin layer of black hair and tossing it to the class as his concluding point. “If the experiment can’t be done,” he continued, “wait until it can. Don’t build careers on itsimagined income.” No one laughed at his bad substitution of income for outcome. “We had a lot of imaginary science at the turn of the century, until the public couldn’t tell crackpots and popularizers from honest scientists. Anyone mightguess the nature of the universe, or even the outcome of an experiment. The number of answers is always limited. But that does no good unless a mathematically expressed experiment pulls your answer out of the realm of possible worlds into our own.” He seemed to be trying to look up at his bushy eyebrows. “Clear?”