Gateways (51 page)

The
Calliope
had been designed to support up to fifteen crew members for a period of at least three years for her mission to Gliese 86. The ship’s complement was ten crew members, and the mission was intended to run only twenty-two months. If the bounce technology worked as planned, they would break space periodically, once just outside Sol’s heliopause, then enter the tunnel under normal space for approximately five months, surfacing occasionally to make sure they were still on beam, and emerge on the edge of the heliopause of Gliese, counting on Ardway’s program and his skill to get them there safely. The crew would undertake as much exploration of the star system as they could manage in their time frame, followed by the turnaround journey. All the crew cabins except the mission commander’s were doubles. The break room, the mess hall, and the exercise center were common areas. Six private one-man carrels were available when the pressures of the mission and communal living got to be too much for human nature. That wasn’t Ardway’s problem. He wanted company. They just didn’t want him.

“Coffee,” he told the wall in the break room. A hatch slid open in the mural, and Ardway took the insulated bulb. The food service system made pretty good coffee, scrambled eggs, oatmeal, and spaghetti sauce—anything soft. Any food with texture kind of suffered in processing. He floated over to an outer bulkhead where he secured himself on a loop to watch the entertainment hologram in the center of the room. It showed a couple of earnest men in surgical greens leaning over a patient and calling for tests.
Reruns already? Who cared? He wondered if he had time to go back to his cabin and watch one of his personal tapes. Maybe the one of black-and-white Blivit washing herself.

“Hey, Benny!” Cora Handley, the ship’s blue-suited medical officer, swung into the room and noticed him hanging there all by himself. The oldest member of the crew, she’d been on more long-range flights than anyone else in the service. She was only around fifty, but her hair was almost pure white. Except for that and the “spaceman’s squint,” she looked thirty. “What’s the word from your cat sitter? How are the Terrible Two?”

Ardway perked up. “You won’t believe it, Doc,” he said, delighted to expand upon his favorite subject. “Melanie said that she showed them my message tape, and they both sat in front of the screen watching me. She said Blivit reached up to touch me through the screen. She couldn’t, of course,” Ardway said, sinking into depression again. If only it was that simple. His hands ached for the stroke of fur, to feel that soft vibration of a deep, throaty purr. “She said they are eating well, but I had to remind her to give Parky his vitamins where Blivit can’t see it, because she thinks they’re a treat, and she gets jealous . . .”

“Later, honey,” Handley said, hastily, her pleasant face contorting. “I’m running a stress test on the commander. Look, twenty-two months isn’t that long a time. You’ll be back there before you notice.” Handley ordered herself a coffee, and somersaulted out of the room with the bulb bobbing beside her.

Ardway appreciated her kind words. She was very sweet, but she was a 100 percent wrong. He noticed, all right. He noticed at the beginning of every sleep shift when no firm, furry bodies snuggled in with him, pushing him away from his pillow. He noticed at every mealtime when there were no sets of green or gold eyes looking up at him, hoping for the choicest morsels. He noticed when no friendly shoulders bumped into his legs while he sat at his console. And the worst was that no one wanted to hear about his troubles. Ardway blamed the space program for being shortsighted. If they’d let him have his little friends, he wouldn’t have to talk about them all the time. They’d even be good for crew morale. He drank his coffee and went back to his station. Just like the state of warp, the outlook for him looked black.

The
Calliope
broke space on schedule, and exactly where Ardway’s computer told them they’d be: on the very edge of the Sol system, in among the junk in the Oort cloud that surrounded the open space. The sun was a tiny dot at the edge of the astrogation screen. Ardway’s loneliness was put on
hold for a time while the ship went on manual helm to explore the belt. Everyone got excited, as they were able to employ their specialities for the first time in the mission.

Spinning frozen boulders the size of small moons danced in the giant circle that surrounded his home system like a ring of mountains. Ardway enjoyed the narrow squeaks as he steered the ship close to chunks of space debris, fascinated by the largest amount of solid matter that existed anywhere but a planet. The geophysics team, Johnson and Mackay, gathered samples using both the ship’s grappling arms, and a short-range small retrieval unit that, like Ardway’s nav system, was on its shakedown cruise. The retrieval unit was nothing more or less than an empty spacesuit that went on tethered spacewalks by itself. Unmanned spacewalks were another of the service’s bright ideas to protect the fragile human beings in the crew from being exposed to radiation or accidents. The retrieval suit went out the airlock and acted as a kind of waldo while someone in the ship wearing the corresponding receptor-motivator unit felt everything the suit did, and saw everything the camera in the helmet did. The system was terrifically flexible and adaptable. When the suit successfully collected an interesting chunk of rock, Johnson made it do an end-zone disco boogie as the crew cheered.

The fun was short-lived. Once they reentered the blackness of warp space, an idled Ardway became morose, and simply didn’t talk to people for a while. He holed up in the privacy cubicles with his collection of home videos and his thoughts. Unable actually to be with his precious cats he spent a lot of time imagining himself home with them, in his personal heaven-on-earth. All right, so his bachelor flat was small and about twenty floors up with an unreliable lift; it had a great view to the south that allowed his pets to have sunlight all day, most suitable for naps and stretching. He had had so many happy days, playing with Parky and Blivit, reading with them on his lap, talking to them, and just enjoying the companionship.

He knew the others in the crew watched him and worried. Every so often he’d leave the privacy cubicle grinning over a particularly cute video or picture and catch the eye of one or another of his fellows, who would hastily look away. Ardway wondered if he could be dropped out of the service for cat addiction. But it’d be worth it. The cats were his companions, his friends, his comfort. Life like this wasn’t the life he wanted to lead. It was great during the big moments, the discoveries, but enduring the long stretches without his little friends was devastating. The view out the ports was an unchanging black, but he knew, intellectually as well as emotionally, that he was flying farther and farther away from his cats. He lived for
the moments when they broke out of jump and received beamed messages from Earth. New video from Melanie of Parky and Blivit lifted his spirits like nothing else. He ached for them, and the longing got worse and worse as time went by. No one on the ship understood. No one wanted to hear about it.

With little to do and an indifferent company to keep, Ardway began to be lax about shift times, showing up when he felt like it. Who cared? Not the other people in the crew. His program didn’t need him. He started to go without shaving, and occasionally without bathing. By the twelfth week he sometimes wouldn’t even bother to get out of his bunk unless he was hungry or had to use the head. Ardway knew his behavior was unhealthy, but he simply could not motivate himself. He began to spend his break times in his privacy cubicle, screening videos, and coming out only when he was called. No one seemed to miss him. Except his cats.

Late one evening shift in the third month of the mission, Ardway heard a tap on the cubicle door. On the little viewscreen, Parky had just jumped out from behind the couch and assaulted Blivit, who’d just been having a drink, and was minding her own business as she walked back to her favorite sprawl spot. The two of them rolled together, rabbit-kicking at one another’s bellies. The tap sounded again.

“Just a minute,” Ardway called. He didn’t want to miss the best part. Here it came: Parky and Blivit rolled into the couch. The contact surprised them. They jumped apart, and sat at opposite ends of the open area washing themselves to cover their discomfiture. Ardway laughed and shook his head. He unlocked the door.

“Benny?” It was Mel Johnson, the junior geophysicist, a large, dark-skinned, friendly man with big hands. “Hey, buddy, we don’t see a lot of you anymore.”

“I’m there when you need me,” Ardway said, defensively. He popped the cartridge out of the video reader and prepared to load another one.

“Yeah, but you’re not
there
, man. You haven’t been yourself since about four weeks ago.” Johnson looked at the recorder and met Ardway’s eyes with sympathy. “You miss ’em that much, huh? No”—he held up a hand as Ardway took a deep breath—“don’t tell me your stories again, man. Tell them to your diary. I’m tired of ’em, too.”

“I think even the computer is tired of them,” Ardway said, with rueful humor. “I do miss them. I can’t even
tell
you how much. I’d give everything for a cat. I can’t last two years like this. I’m going to go crazy!”

“Well, what is it you really miss?” Johnson asked, propping himself in
the door frame so Ardway couldn’t shut him out. “You’ve got one of those virtual pets on your screen, right? Feed me, clean me, scold me . . . ?”

Ardway dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “It’s not the same. Feeling Parky rub against my leg in the morning when I’m getting his breakfast. That’s after Blivit has woken me up by jumping on my . . . my bladder to make sure I’m awake. The way they cuddle into my arm or my lap when I’m reading, even the way they run across me when they’re fighting!”

“Yes, yes,” Johnson said hastily, throwing his hands up, and Ardway remembered Johnson had been very patient about listening for weeks even when it was clear he’d had it up to his neck with Ardway’s favorite topic. “Let me think about it.”

“You think you can convince the brass to bring me a cat? Way out here?” Ardway was full of hope. Maybe Johnson, a disinterested party, could succeed where he had failed.

Not even for the finest astrogator in the service, which Ardway was proving to be. No living animals would be put into danger, or be able to put the crew of the deep-space mission into danger. Besides, as the message from NASA said tartly, nothing in the space program existed that could catch up with the
Calliope
in less time than it would take to return to Earth on their normal schedule. Ardway read a copy of the reply Johnson received. There had been half a dozen attachments, but Ardway didn’t read those. All he was interested in was the denial. He fell into a real depression, refusing to come out of his quarters or the privacy cubicle, sometimes not even for meals.

A couple of weeks later, Johnson’s voice came again outside the privacy cubicle, tried to persuade him to open up the enamel box. Ardway sat with his arms folded, refusing to budge. Eventually, he heard fumbling on the bulkhead and swearing. Callan’s sweating red face appeared as the door slid open.

“I’m taking the locks off all these doors,” Callan said, and turned to Johnson. “He’s all yours.”

“C’mon, buddy,” Johnson said, bravely ignoring the stink of unwashed and unshaved crewman as he took Ardway’s arm and pulling him toward the geophysics lab. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

In the white-enameled room, all the samples the crew had gathered on their stops were in clear, vacuum-sealed cases to prevent direct human exposure. Against one wall was the lightweight waldo-suit Johnson wore to gather specimens.

“You know what this does, right?” Johnson said, pointing to the suit. “It’s a remote-control unit for the one outside. The suit that corresponds to the motions made by this one was in a compartment behind a panel on the skin of the ship.”

“I know all that,” Ardway said, waving it away.

“But do you know how it gets its feedback? On the inside, it’s got a fine mesh suit of two kinds of sensors fused together, receivers and responders. Together, they’re only about a micron thick, like a second skin. The cloth is thinner than nylon stockings. If the suit picks up a rock, I can feel the shape of it in my hand as if I’d picked it up myself. If the suit takes a knock from a meteor, I get knocked ass over teakettle. Of course, the responses are toned down so that I can take it without getting hurt. I can feel that the rock is cold, but not the burning cold of deep space. I get pushed around by the responders, but not enough to do more than bruise me a little.”