The Sunspacers Trilogy

by George Zebrowski

  I followed him inside, ignoring his instructions. The inner door closed behind us.

  He pointed. “Look—we’ll be able to see!”

  There was a small round viewport in the outer door. We could check the Sun’s position without having to open the lock.

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  18

  Crossing

  I stood behind Bob as he peered through the thick viewport.

  “Can you see anything?”

  He gave the port a wipe with his gloved hand. I heard crackling, then his voice in my ear. “We’re in the shadow of those cliffs to the left. I think we can walk to the Center.”

  “You don’t sound too sure.”

  From what I knew, Mercury was crisscrossed with scarps—huge, curving cliffs up to four kilometers high. They were formed when Mercury’s crust was cooling and shrinking and massive blocks were being thrust upward along fault lines. One particular cliff, Discovery Rupes, was 500 kilometers long.

  “The Sun is low this time of day,” Bob continued, “but I can’t tell how close it may be to the top of the scarp. It isn’t noon yet. We’ll have to hurry, in case the Sun clears the top and zaps us.”

  “Is that all?” A few kilometers in low gravity was not going to be difficult, but I was thinking only of myself.

  “I don’t know if the surface lock to the Center is in shadow or not. I’ve never come this way.”

  “So we may have to sprint a few yards.”

  The crackling filled my ears. “We can’t do that, Joe. Get that through your head. Not in this suit or any other. By the way, have you ever walked around in a suit?”

  “No.”

  “Move carefully—don’t let it get damaged.”

  “Do we have enough air?”

  “They’re rebreathers,” he said. “Packs can recycle indefinitely.”

  “Okay—let’s go.”

  He tapped the door control with his fist. The door slid open, and we stepped out slowly onto the coppery surface.

  I looked up, grateful to see the stars. Somewhere out there, away from the Sun, was Venus, orbiting only 50 million kilometers away; and Earth, 91 million kilometers distant. At my right, the wall of cliffs hid the fiery Sun, which was waiting, it seemed, to rise up and burn us as soon as we started across the shadowland, because it knew that we were out here, and that only chance had given us the protection we needed.

  To my left was a sea of light. There the shadows came to a sharp end. Slowly, as the Sun Climbed, that sea would creep toward the cliffs, dissolving the shadowland; we would be forced against the base of the scarp if we stayed out long enough. At noon there would be almost no place to hide; the solar eye would cook us with its fusion gaze …

  “I think the locks to the Control Center are there,” Bob said, pointing into the blackness. “If we keep close to the scarp at our right, we’ll be protected all the way.”

  Noon was still weeks away, I told myself. There was no way the Sun could get us, but Bob sounded as if there were other things to fear.

  “So what else can get us?” I asked.

  “Micrometeorites. They pelt the surface. No atmosphere to burn them up. Go through you like a bullet, if you’re hit. Unlikely, but the idea always gives me the creeps.”

  “We won’t be out long enough,” I said. “Let’s get going.”

  “Just a moment—I want to try something. Control, please reply, this is Bob Svoboda …”

  Of course, the suit radios.

  Bob repeated his call a few times, but the only reply was the universe making popcorn.

  “Why don’t they answer?” I asked.

  “It could be a number of things. Quake might have damaged surface antennas. No one’s expecting a call from the surface, so there may be nobody listening, nothing more.” I knew that he thought it could be something more, but he was determined not to start supposing. “Come on.”

  I followed, avoiding loose rocks, stepping only where the coppery way seemed firm. It was an easy stroll, despite the bulky suit; but my muscles were used to a higher gravity, so I didn’t notice the suit’s weight as much as Bob did. I began to stride, then took a small leap forward.

  Bob stopped and fixed me with the mirrored eye of his faceplate. My ears crackled. “Don’t, Joe—you can still break a limb or tear your suit.”

  “Sorry.”

  I thought of Ro as we passed deeper into the shadow of the high cliffs. What would there be for us after we finished working here? More school—and then what? My heart seemed to hesitate between beats as I realized that I might never see Ro again. She was probably thinking the same thing. I faced the possibility that one of us might die.

  I glanced up at the scarp. It was hard to feel how tall the cliffs were; they seemed unreal. All of Mercury had been molten once, cooling from the outside in, buckling the outer crust as it formed, forcing sections to pile up on each other while swarms of meteors, even asteroids, bombarded the planet. The scarps were what geologists call thrust faults, where one side of a crack has been raised and the other lowered. On Merk they cut through mountain ranges, craters, and valleys. The Sun’s energy had sculpted this world, and left it half finished. The interior was still molten with heavy metals—the ultimate prize, which humankind would claim as we reached deeper into the planet.

  We had been marching for about fifteen minutes, pulling our legs up and down like robots, when I felt a gentle trembling in my feet.

  Turning to look back, I saw a crack following us, like a beast tracking prey; its speed was deceptive.

  “Bob!” I jumped aside and turned around in time to see it shoot toward him like a crooked snake.

  I took giant steps and tackled him. My weight threw him clear, but my feet went into the crack as it passed us. It would have been a sorry tackle on Earth, I thought as I reached out and caught the edge.

  I hung there.

  Bob was about five meters away, down but moving. I pulled myself up, grateful that I was from Earth. Growing up there had all been for this—so I could come here and tackle Bob. Funny what goes through your head in moments of danger.

  I got up and walked over to him. He was sitting up, holding his left sleeve. “A small tear,” he said, “but I’ve got a good grip on it.”

  “Are you hurt?” I asked, realizing that I was responsible—but there had been no choice.

  “Fine—but I’ve got to keep this closed. One day we’ll have new equipment.”

  I reached down and pulled him to his feet.

  “Sneaky crack,” he said.

  “Sure was.”

  It was still running ahead of us, parallel to the scarp.

  “Can you hold that?”

  “Sure—let’s go.”

  He tried to lead the way again, but I was at his side.

  “It can’t be far now,” he said.

  I peered into the inky shadows ahead. “What’s it look like?”

  “Silver dome—three meters high.”

  “Don’t see a thing yet.”

  “It’s got to be there!”

  I felt his confidence draining away.

  “I could have sworn this was the right way, Joe.”

  “Don’t worry—if it’s to our right, we can still step over the crack. Hope it doesn’t widen.”

  His breathing seemed more labored over the suit com. “Follow the crack.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “I’m okay!” he insisted.

  We marched in silence.

  “Look at the pedometer in your helmet,” he said. “We’ve come half a kilometer.”

  I noticed the ghostly row of dials. When I looked out again, Bob was four meters ahead. I caught up.

  “Not much you could do if my suit went,” he said.

  “Try calling again,” I said.

  “We’ll make it, Joe.”

  “Bob, play it safe—right now.”

  “They’ve got enough to worry about.”

  “Try.”

  �
��We’ll get there. Don’t you see? Ripping a suit is … well, basically a dumb thing.”

  “But I did it—not you.” I saw Kik falling. One gone, one saved. It couldn’t count for much with Linda. “We Earthies are pretty clumsy guys. One of your folks would have known better.”

  “Thanks, Joe.” I knew Bob still had his pride; I could hear it in his voice. But he might still try to take the blame for ripping his suit, the kind of mistake only a kid would make. I had to make sure I spoke first and saved him the embarrassment.

  I kept looking at his sleeve. His whole hand was closed on the rip. What was a human hand doing on Mercury? I asked myself as we marched. It had grown up in sun filled forests and on grassy plains, gathering skills for an awakening brain. Too many hands and minds from Earth had died on hostile Mercury. I would get Bob to safety, and I would help build a new world for him to live and work in.

  The shadows shaped themselves into faceless figures, closing in to whisper strange thoughts into my head. I was sweating heavily in the suit.

  Bob stopped. “We’ve gone past—can’t be this far. Must be on the other side of the crack, back some.”

  The ground trembled, widening the crack.

  “We’ve got to jump across!” Bob shouted as the other side drifted away from us.

  “You can’t holding that sleeve.”

  The trembling stopped.

  “It’s two meters at least,” I said, knowing what I would have to do. “Come here.” I stepped toward him and lifted him in my arms, knowing that he had to hold his sleeve and couldn’t resist. “I won’t leave you out here.” He had to arrive with me, as much on his own as possible; it would humiliate him to be left out here while I went for help.

  “I feel stupid, Joe.”

  “Better than being dead,” I said, taking a few steps back. “Hold that rip tight.”

  I went forward and jumped.

  We sailed across the crack in a shallow arc, but the slowness made me afraid that we wouldn’t make it.

  We landed with a meter to spare. I dared to breathe again. My body shook a little.

  “You can put me down now.”

  I set him on his feet. He was silent, clutching his sleeve. “Joe—you won’t tell anyone about this. Please.”

  “Sure—forget it.”

  “I’ll always remember.”

  “Glad to help. We’re all supermen on Earth, so it’s no big deal. Try the radio again. It might be easier if we’re closer.”

  “Svoboda calling Central—please answer.” We listened to the crackling.

  “Good thing I can transmit by pressing down with my chin,” he said.

  “Bob! Where are you?” Robert Svoboda demanded suddenly, his voice clear against the background hiss.

  “We came out by the surface lock over the police station,” Bob said.

  “Get off the surface!”

  “Don’t worry, Dad—Joe and I are in a safe shadow.”

  “You’ve got the greenhorn out there?”

  I felt foolish.

  “Dad—listen to me! We’ve got to run a bus over and evacuate the hall. Some people have died. Air’s running out. We need digging tools. What’s delayed you?”

  My ears filled with hiss and crackle.

  “What? We don’t show any air cutoff on our big board.”

  “Forget the board! Is the tunnel cutter working?”

  “No,” his father said after a moment. “Spare parts problems—they’re fixing it.”

  Bob cursed. “Dad—you’ve got to get a digging crew into a vehicle, bring it over to the cop station, cut through to the hall and start bringing people out. Police station air won’t last forever either!”

  “That bad—” Robert Svoboda said softly, defeat in his voice.

  “Don’t blame him for trying,” Eleanor cut in. “We could have all been dead here, for all he knew.”

  “Son—you took such a risk,” Svoboda added.

  “Dad—how bad is it elsewhere?”

  “Pretty bad, I guess. From what you’ve said, we can’t rely on our sensor board. It’s all too old—the whole system is coming apart.…”

  “Where are you?” Eleanor asked.

  “Just near the dome—we think.”

  “Joe?”

  “I’m here … Eleanor.”

  “We’re coming in, Dad,” Bob said. “Should be a few minutes.”

  “The asteroid is here,” Svoboda announced, “for what it’s worth. It’s a giant potato on our screens, baking in the Sun. West, thirty degrees high.”

  We turned and looked above the sea of sunlight. A bright star was rising in its orbit, bringing hope to the miners of Mercury, and I prayed that there would be no more disasters before the habitat was livable.

  “We see it!” Bob shouted, his voice catching with emotion.

  “Get going,” Robert Svoboda said. “I want you two safe as soon as possible.”

  We broke contact and started back along the widened crack. As I looked at the landscape of white light to our right, I realized how small was our area of safety.

  We stopped suddenly. A great shaft of sunlight had broken through the scarp some kilometers ahead, burning through the shadow zone to rejoin the Sun-blasted plain.

  “There must be a pass up there,” Bob said, “and the Sun moved into position to shine through.”

  I looked around, suddenly afraid of hidden breaks in the cliffs. The idea of playing peekaboo with a nearby fusion furnace did not appeal to me. Old Sol, grand light of all Sunspace, might still get us. He didn’t like the creatures he had cooked up out of the primordial slime to get too close to him. I saw my body sprouting cancerous cauliflowers as it stood in a giant sunbeam.…

  “There’s … dome!” Bob shouted, losing a word in the static.

  My eyes found the small hemisphere huddling in the shadows, daring to reflect a bit of starlight.

  We moved toward it.

  “Watch it,” I said. The cracks were all pointing to the dome as if to a target.

  “They’re small. As long as we can reach one of the locks.”

  We were about fifty feet away when the ground shook again. The cracks opened, and I rolled into one.

  I tensed, but it took forever to hit.

  Finally I felt scraping and pressure from two sides. My wrist snapped, and pain jolted into my elbow and shoulder. I was caught between the narrowing walls of the fissure.

  “Joe!”

  “Get inside, I ordered as calmly as I could, “and send someone without a damn hole in their suit.”

  “Keep talking!”

  “Get going!”

  “Try not to move.”

  “Are you still here?”

  Merk had me in its teeth. It had been waiting for me since the time when the planets formed. At the slightest tremor, its angry jaws would crush me; or the crack would yawn and I would be swallowed.

  “Can you breathe?”

  “Yes—get moving,” I managed to say. “Now it’s your turn.”

  The universe hissed at me. Mercury, the Sun’s henchman, would kill me, or at least maim me, because the earthies had not cared enough to protect their own against him.

  I drew a deep breath; it tasted wrong.

  “Bob?”

  There was no answer on the suit com. I tried to press my chin down inside the helmet, to open the radio channel to the Control Center, but I couldn’t move my head.

  “Bob,” I whispered, “there’s something wrong with my air.”

  The universe shoved itself into my head—a million gears grinding away, rending and tearing by fits and stops, as if trying to shape abusive sentences. Alien stars sang deep inside the chaos in my head. Solid black cement crept in around me, tucking in close, filling my lungs. I stopped breathing, grateful that I would no longer have to make the effort.

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  19

  Looking Back

  The sun reached out with fiery knives and cut away my arm and leg.…
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  I swam through a sea of molten metal, under a giant red Sun, struggling to reach the icy coolness of the rock before the liquid metal burned through to my bones.…

  Rosalie waited for me on the rock. I loved her, desired and needed her more than ever—but my hands were skeletons when I pulled myself up on the soothing shore.…

  As the painkillers wore off, my dislocated shoulder and broken wrist, together with a touch of oxygen starvation, taught me a lot of respect for old Merk. I was so glad to be alive that I wished I might have broken the other wrist, just so as not to push my luck.

  I lay there for more than a month, wondering if the planet was really done with me; a new quake might kill me as I slept. Bob and Rosalie calmed me down in the evenings, but I still had trouble accepting sleep.

  When I was finally able to doze regularly, my dreams were filled with guilt and anxiety about the work that was starting without me. If I wasn’t going to be part of the work, then everything that had happened to me would be meaningless. I was fixated on this, even though there was no chance of the habitat being finished before I got there.

  Sometimes I dreamed that I was dying by pieces—first my legs, then my arms and torso, leaving only my head, which was not enough to go home with; they would probably just throw it away.

  “Bob told us how you helped save his life,” Robert Svoboda said, as he and his wife sat by my bed one day.

  “He still had to hold his suit together.”

  Eleanor touched my hand. “He felt differently about telling us after you were both inside.”

  I looked up at the ceiling and felt very unheroic. “We might both have died.”

  “Couldn’t expect you not to try something,” Robert said. “I’m glad you did, as it turned out. The judgments you two made about the situation were right. Bob learned a few things. Eleanor and I had always shielded him a bit.”

  “I want to get to my real job as soon as possible.”

  Eleanor’s look of gratitude was making me nervous. It surprised me that Bob had decided to tell the whole story. How would it go over with his friends? Maybe it would draw us all together.

  Bill Turnbull, my orientation advisor from the university, surprised me with a visit one Friday afternoon.

  “I joined up with the second wave,” he said. “Brought you some letters from home.”