Starclimber (20 page)

“I’m out!” he said.

I positioned myself within easy reach of the controls and the umbilicus spool. I kept a close watch on it, making sure it rolled out smoothly. Tobias floated away from the ship, angled slightly forward, ten feet, twenty feet, thirty feet. It was the most uncanny thing, staring out at him, his arms and legs spread wide, hanging there against the heavens. I stopped paying out the umbilicus.

“I’ve got you at forty feet, Tobias,” I said.

I saw him reach the end of his tether and jerk back slightly. It was made of the same stuff as the land-diving cable and had plenty of bounce in it.

“You’re looking grand, Tobias!” I said. “The first man to walk in space!”

I knew that inside on B-Deck Miss Karr was busily taking pictures. Everyone would be pressed to the windows, watching, and I felt a hot flush of envy. I wished I could have been out there for Kate to see.

“Not much of a space walk yet,” I heard Tobias say. He bent his knees slightly and did a somersault. “Now the problem is stopping,” he said as he continued to twirl neatly round and round.

“Try the air pistol,” I suggested.

We’d been kitted out with a tiny pistol that clipped onto our suits. Inside was a small cartridge of compressed air. One squeeze of the trigger would release a minuscule squirt—but in the vacuum of space, it was supposed to be enough force to shove you in the opposite direction.

I saw Tobias unclip his pistol and point it. “Let’s see if Sir Isaac Newton was correct,” he said. “Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Here goes.”

Newton was right. Tobias squeezed the trigger and he instantly reversed direction.

“How are you feeling, Tobias?” I asked.

“Just fine,” he said.

“You see any blue lights?”

“No blue lights, but the view is absolutely amazing! I can see earth below us. It’s no bigger than a tennis ball! I can see the Pacificus and the Hawaiis. Pretty sure I can see Van Diemen’s Land too! Give me a few more feet, will you, Matt?”

“I’ll uncoil you to sixty,” I said, and measured out the line.

Using the air pistol, Tobias jetted out to the end of his tether, swooping and putting on a bit of a show. I could just imagine Miss Karr, eagerly taking pictures and remembering details for today’s dispatch.
Tobias Blanchard, our first astralnaut, cavorts in space.

He was amazingly acrobatic. With a twitch on his lifeline he came sailing back toward the
Starclimber
, and managed to land boots first against the hull, just above the hatch. I craned my neck to see him, standing straight and tall, holding a loop of his tether in both hands like the reins of some stellar chariot. Sunlight blazed off his reflective visor. He was an astral god, plunging through space toward his home planet.

“This is fantastic!” he said. “I had no idea there were so many stars. I swear we only see half of these from earth! You can see things in them, you know, there’re so many—you can see shapes, and faces…”

He sailed out again to the end of his tether. I worried he was traveling with a little too much force this time, so I eased him out some more line, not wanting him to get tossed back too sharply. I couldn’t quite banish the image of the umbilicus snapping—and Tobias sailing out into space eternally.

I checked the clock in the air lock. Captain Walken had given us orders that the first space walk was to be no longer than thirty minutes. We were already halfway done.

“Matt, there’s something out here.”

I turned back to the hatch and was shocked when I couldn’t see Tobias. I poked my head out and saw he’d propelled himself higher, and was almost level with the ship’s bow.

“What do you see?” I asked.

“Some kind of rock, I think.”

“Is it stationary?” I asked.

“I think so. It’s quite close.”

I wondered if he was right. Distances out here were almost impossible to figure out. It might be something very small inches from his nose or a planet a million miles away.

“If you give me about twenty more feet, I can get closer.”

“Careful, Tobias.” With some unease, I unwound the spool.

“Here we go,” Tobias said. “It’s definitely some kind of rock. Should I bring it back to the ship?”

“I think our scientists would be thrilled to have a space rock,” I said with a grin, thinking of Kate’s reaction. Finally something for her to examine.

“Let’s see….”

High above me Tobias unhooked the specimen bag attached to his hip and, with both hands, held it open and brought it down over something I couldn’t see, for his body was blocking my view. He cinched the bag tight.

“It’s pretty big,” said Tobias over the radio. “Doesn’t weigh a thing out here, though!”

“You should be heading back inside now, Tobias,” I said.

“I can see Orion so clearly. Practically make out the scratches on his club.”

I chuckled. “Just make sure he doesn’t whack you one.”

“And the moon!” he exclaimed. “It’s just on the other side of the ship!”

“Looks close, does it?”

“It
is
close. I had no idea we’d be getting so near it!”

I was no astronomer, but I knew the moon was still very, very far away.

“It’s incredible, Matt. I can see everything, every crater. One good push and you could get there.”

Suddenly Tobias seemed to be getting smaller. I pulled my head back inside the hatchway and, shocked, saw the spool unreeling line, fast. Tobias had obviously given himself a big push with his air pistol and was sailing out deeper into space.

“Tobias, our half hour’s up. You need to come back now.”

“I just want to get a bit closer to the moon, Matt.”

“Tobias. That’s a long trip, and not for today.”

“I hadn’t counted on the sounds,” said Tobias.

“What sounds are those?” I asked, surprised.

“From the stars,” he said. “There’s a definite music they make. You can’t hear it inside the ship, but out here it’s really clear. It’s beautiful.”

Every sky sailor had heard about the raptures of the heights, when someone went too high, or lost their way too far over the sea, and was overwhelmed by the endless vista before them. It took the form of euphoria, a feeling anything was possible. I started worrying Tobias was intoxicated by the heavenly ether.

I locked the spool so it wouldn’t pay out any more umbilicus.

“Hey!” came Tobias’s voice, and he sounded angry. “Why’re you stopping me?”

“Tobias, time’s up,” I said firmly. “Captain’s orders, mate.”

“Matt, the moon’s just up ahead. I know there’s a lot more line left on that spool. Come on!”

“Can’t do it, Tobias.” I started to reel in the line but was met with a great deal of resistance. He was fighting me with his air pistol, trying to inch his way closer to the moon.

I wedged myself against the cleats and started turning the umbilicus wheel with all my strength.

“Matt, let it go!” shouted Tobias. “I can always unhook my tether.”

I stopped turning the wheel. I felt cold all over. “Tobias, don’t do that.”

“I might never get a chance like this again….”

“Later. But come back in now. Miss Karr wants to interview you and get your picture for the papers. There’s a lot of people back home waiting to read about the first man in space.”

I heard his breathing over the radio, labored. “It’s all so big…shouldn’t be out here…don’t belong…I’m cold.”

I tried to keep the panic from my voice. “We’ll have a nice mug of coffee waiting. I’m going to reel you in now. Help me out.”

There was no answer. I listened hard, straining to hear the sound of his breathing.

“Tobias?”

I started turning the wheel to reel him in, and this time there was absolutely no resistance. My stomach lurched. It felt like there was nothing at the end of the line. What if he’d cut himself loose? I turned harder, and then my frantic brain remembered how everything was weightless now. Too late, I saw Tobias come soaring past the open hatchway, arms and legs sprawled, motionless. I’d brought him back with too much force, and now he was headed beyond the stern and—

“Tobias, watch out for the cable!”

But I got no reply. He made no attempt to use his air pistol. I reeled him in with all my might, trying to shorten the line and keep him from colliding with the high-voltage cable. He wasn’t ten feet away from it when he reached the end of his line. He snapped back and began rising toward me. I reeled in some more.

I made a bad job of it. Twice he banged against the hull before I could get him close enough to grab him. It was a clumsy, exhausting business, my feet jammed into their cleats. Seizing him under the arms and pulling, it took all my strength to haul him back inside.

“Tobias!” I shouted. “Tobias, let me hear you!”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, sounding half asleep.

He bobbed about. I couldn’t make out his face through the mirrored visor. As quickly as I could, I swung shut the outer hatch.

I pulled the lever and heard the fans furiously pumping air back into our chamber, pressurizing it. While waiting, I managed to get Tobias belted down to the bench.

“I’ll have you out in a second,” I said to him.

“I must’ve just blanked out for a minute,” he said groggily, starting to fumble for his helmet clamps.

“Not yet!” I pushed his hands away and kept an eye on the pressure gauge. When the needle touched 14.7 pounds per square inch, I unclasped Tobias’s helmet and lifted it from his head. His pale skin glistened with sweat, and his eyes seemed huge, like he’d seen more than he could comprehend.

I pulled off my own helmet. “You all right?”

He nodded miserably. “I messed up.”

“You did not mess up,” I told him. “It’s all new, and you did it first. No one could’ve done better.”

He grunted, but I could tell he didn’t believe me. I felt terrible for him. We obviously hadn’t realized how mesmerizing outer space was. I’d had just a taste peering out from the air lock, but what must it be like to be surrounded by the vastness of it, and spreading your wings above earth?

The inner hatch opened, and Captain Walken floated in.

“Seems you were a bit too comfortable out there, Mr. Blanchard,” he said.

Tobias sighed. “I was just…I wasn’t prepared for it. It’s completely overwhelming. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Not at all, Mr. Blanchard. You did beautifully. Well done.” Captain Walken gave me a nod. “Good work, Mr. Cruse.”

“Thanks, Matt,” Tobias said. There was some color returning to his face. “Should’ve listened to you sooner. I feel totally shattered.”

“Come and have something to eat,” said the captain, nudging Tobias toward the inner hatch. “Chef Vlad has lunch waiting upstairs.”

It was our first meal in zero gravity.

Gone were the plates and bowls and glasses. We buckled ourselves down to our seats at the dining table and ate from little containers with slotted lids. You had to push back the slot so you could stick in your fork and spear a bit of food, then quickly close the slot so the rest of the food didn’t float away. There were sealed cups with special valved straws jutting out, so we could sip our water or tea. Everything had a magnetic bottom and stuck to the surface of the metal table.

The food, as always, was delicious. Everyone was here except Captain Walken, who was keeping watch on the bridge. He’d started the
Starclimber
moving again, back on course to cable’s end.

We all listened, enthralled, as Tobias told us about his space walk. Miss Karr busily took notes for her newspaper dispatch. Whenever she paused, she let go of her pencil and let it hover.

“I don’t think the tests really prepare you for it,” said Tobias. He looked over at me. “Not even close. You’ll see when you get out there.”

“Astral psychosis,” Dr. Turgenev said.

“What’s that?” I asked, alarmed by the sound of it.

“Is just theory,” he said. “Space is alien environment to humans. Very traumatic for us. We need to study this now.”

“You said you heard music,” I reminded Tobias.

He frowned as if he’d forgotten, then looked a bit embarrassed. “You’re right, I thought I did.”

“Sounds like another hallucination,” said Shepherd, who probably thought Tobias had done a poor job altogether.

“Although,” Kate said, “Pythagoras did think the movement of the stars and planets made a kind of perfectly harmonious music. He called it the music of the spheres. He said it was inaudible on earth, but presumably not in the heavens.”

Miss Karr beamed. “I like that,” she said, making a note of it.

There was something beautiful, but also eerie, about the idea of music in outer space. It reminded me of the Sirens’ song, which would trick mariners into jumping overboard to reach it. The music of the spheres had almost drowned Tobias, and I hoped I would be strong enough to resist its pull.

“Pythagoras lived more than two thousand years ago,” remarked Sir Hugh, “when they believed many quaint things.”

“What a dry little life you lead, Sir Hugh,” Miss Karr said.

Sir Hugh tilted his chin. “Not at all, Miss Karr. I merely prefer to restrict myself to the
real
wonders of the world and not the imaginary ones.”

“Is no sound in outer space,” said Dr. Turgenev simply. “I am sorry, but music is impossible. Sound is wave and must pass through
something
to make vibration. Is nothing up here to carry sound.”

Sir Hugh smiled smugly. “Thank you, Dr. Turgenev, for your voice of reason.”

Kate said nothing, but I knew she was disappointed.

“Is there any more news about the Celestial Tower?” Tobias asked Shepherd.

“Dreadful business,” murmured Miss Karr.

Shepherd nodded. “We got word during your space walk. The French are saying it was a bomb.”

“Good God,” said Sir Hugh.

“How could the French let it happen?” I said, stunned. “After that first attempt, they must’ve tripled security!”

“Whatever they did, it wasn’t enough,” said Tobias.

A heavy silence fell over the table. I wondered if everyone was thinking the same terrible thought. If it could happen to the Celestial Tower, it could happen to us. I noticed that Shepherd’s eyes were moving from one person to the next, as if studying our reactions.