Starclimber (26 page)

“That was five-second burn,” said Dr. Turgenev.

“That’s it?” Tobias said.

“That is all we need, yes,” said Dr. Turgenev, looking at his clipboard. “That will take counterweight to proper altitude. We are fine now.”

“We did it!” I said, feeling limp with relief. “It actually worked!”

Dr. Turgenev rubbed his forehead. “I had very big doubts.”

“
Big
doubts?” I said weakly.

The Russian scientist shrugged. “I am pessimist,” he said.

W
hen I woke, the sun was blazing through my cabin porthole, and I knew it must be late afternoon. I felt the
Starclimber
’s reassuring vibration through the bunk and knew we were climbing toward the cable’s summit. Even though I was weightless, my entire body felt heavy and sore with fatigue.

I’d done it.

I hadn’t thought I could. Since the very start, I’d worried I didn’t have the right stuff. But I’d made a three-hour space walk, starting off bone tired. I’d helped get that hatch open, muddled through the ignition sequence, and got the captain back to the ship in time. I wasn’t the best, and I wasn’t first choice, but I’d done it, and that felt good enough.

I floated there in my cabin, in the sunshine, for just a moment longer, enjoying it. Then I pulled on my uniform and hurried up to the bridge.

Tobias and Shepherd were on duty.

“Hey, Matt,” said Tobias. “Did you get a good rest?”

“I’m sorry. I slept like the dead. Have I missed my shift?”

“I figured you could use the sleep,” said Shepherd.

I stared at him in surprise, but he didn’t look up from his control panel.

“Thanks very much, Shepherd,” I said. “Is your head okay?”

“It didn’t last long, this one.”

“We had some more good news,” Tobias told me. “General Lancaster radioed earlier. They caught Eriksson, and he confessed there was no bomb. Turns out I’m not a Babelite after all.”

“I’m very glad to hear it,” I said, smiling.

“We’ll reach the counterweight in twenty-two hours,” Shepherd said.

The calm of the bridge right now seemed dreamlike after the frenzied rush of the past forty-eight hours. It had all worked out. I could scarcely believe it. But even though we’d escaped disaster and death, something still clouded my thoughts. Kate’s letter.

“You should get something to eat,” Tobias said. “You’re on duty in half an hour.”

I drifted downstairs to B-Deck. Captain Walken, Miss Karr, and Dr. Turgenev were just buckling themselves up at the dining table.

“Ah, Mr. Cruse,” said the captain. “Join us.”

“How are you feeling, sir?” I asked. I shouldn’t have been the one sleeping late when it was the captain who’d had the near scrape with death.

“Remarkably well,” he said. “You got me back just in time. Another minute or so and it would have been very different.”

“You’re quite a hero,” Miss Karr said to me.

“Heroics are nothing new to Mr. Cruse,” Captain Walken said.

I felt my cheeks warm with their praise. I wasn’t at all sure what I did was heroic. Someone like Shepherd might have said I’d endangered the entire ship by bringing the captain back—and in some ways he would be right. What I did was selfish, for the thought of losing the captain filled me with such fear and sadness, I couldn’t bear it.

We’d just started our meal when Sir Hugh and Kate floated up from the laboratory to join us. They were having a very intent conversation with lots of scientific words I didn’t understand. I think they were talking about the etherian specimen.

“Hello, everyone,” said Kate distractedly. Her eyes lighted on me briefly, and she added, “Well done, Mr. Cruse. I hear you saved the day.”

“Thank you, Miss de Vries.”

And then she went back to talking to Sir Hugh.

I’d been hoping for more somehow. I knew Kate couldn’t throw her arms around me and tell me how worried she’d been, and how glad she was I was safe, and what a hero I was. Maybe she wanted to but was just playacting her part as James Sanderson’s fiancée.

Or maybe she was just engrossed in her etherian specimen. Over the past two days, even as we’d been frantically preparing our rescue procedure, she’d been busy in the laboratory. Her concentration and dedication were amazing. Whenever I passed by, she’d be taking notes and peering at things under microscopes and arguing with Sir Hugh about this or that procedure. She seemed to have pushed all thoughts of danger from her mind—and maybe that was for the best. But I couldn’t help wondering if she’d also pushed all thoughts of me from her mind.

“The substance is completely unique,” Kate was saying to Sir Hugh. “I’m wondering if some of its molecules even exist on earth. But it did exhibit some of the same characteristics as luciferin.”

“One of the enzymes that produce the firefly’s glow,” said Sir Hugh. “Interesting. I shall be very happy to mention that in a footnote.”

Kate paused for a moment. “A footnote?”

“Yes, in my article.”

“A
footnote
in
your
article,” said Kate, her voice suddenly chilly.

“A very generous footnote, yes,” he said.

Kate’s nostrils narrowed. “Sir Hugh, I was under the impression we’d be writing this article together as equal partners.”

The eminent zoologist pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, no. I shall write my article, and you are free to write your own, of course.”

“Ha!” said Kate, looking around at the rest of us. “That’s a trick, you see. Sir Hugh is very well known, and any journal will publish his paper before mine, and he can take sole credit for the discovery.”

“Rubbish,” said Sir Hugh, but I thought he looked fairly guilty.

“I think Mr. Lunardi meant for the two of you to work together,” Captain Walken said, “and present your findings to the world as a team.”

“As coauthors,” Kate said, staring hard at Sir Hugh.

“This is standard scientific decorum,” said Dr. Turgenev.

Haiku launched into a barrage of angry chittering.

“I think Haiku feels the same,” said Miss Karr.

Sir Hugh glanced nervously at the monkey. “Very well,” he said. “Miss de Vries, you and I shall write the paper together.”

“Thank you, Sir Hugh,” she said, her expression triumphant, and the two continued with their polite scientific chat.

I was actually starting to feel jealous of Sir Hugh. As much as Kate loathed him, she was spending a great deal of time with him lately. He got all her passion. I desperately wanted to talk to Kate—about the letter, about the turmoil in my heart—but I’d have to wait until we could be alone.

“And how are you, Miss Karr?” I asked, trying to distract myself.

“Never better,” she said. “Strange as it might sound, this crisis was just the thing for me.”

“It’ll make for quite a newspaper dispatch,” I said.

“Oh, I didn’t mean that,” she said. “It’s finally jolted me out of my funk.”

“Funk?” said Kate, who must have been listening in.

“For the past two years or more,” she said. “Haven’t taken a picture worth a damn. Everything bored me. Including myself.”

“But you’ve accomplished so much!” Kate said.

Miss Karr gave one of her merry cackles. “Don’t look so distressed, Miss de Vries. I’m a good deal older than you, and most things lose their luster eventually. That’s why I came on this trip—one of the reasons, anyway. I was hoping a new view might shake me out of it. But it didn’t.”

“I’m sure your photographs are remarkable, Miss Karr,” Captain Walken said. “Once you develop them back on earth, you’ll be very pleased.”

“Oh, the photographs will be fine,” she said dismissively. “But it’s the photographer who needs to change.”

She smiled as if she had a secret she wasn’t willing to share quite yet, then turned her lively eyes on Kate.

“So, Miss de Vries, has all this danger given you a new hunger for life too? You must be pining after your Mr. Sanderson more than ever.”

“Terribly,” she said, managing to look pale and wistful. “I’ve been quite beside myself.”

Miss Karr nodded. “You’re very wise to marry.”

Kate looked as surprised as I felt.

“I thought you took a very dim view of marriage, Miss Karr,” the captain remarked, amused. “I read somewhere you called it little better than slavery.”

“I think Mrs. Snuffler would take exception to that,” said Sir Hugh indignantly.

“Slavery if you marry the wrong person,” Miss Karr said firmly. “But having a soul mate would be a very fine thing. I made some bad choices in my life. When I was younger, I withheld my love where it was wanted, and gave it where it was not.”

We were all listening, rapt, even though I felt awkward to be hearing such personal things. But Miss Karr had always been plainspoken, and she didn’t seem in the least embarrassed. I stole a glance at Kate, but she didn’t return my gaze.

“And after that, I stupidly turned away from love altogether. It took a while, but when I’d smothered those feelings, they were gone for good. I thought they’d just interfere with my work. That’s where I think you’ve been so smart, Miss de Vries. You’ve said yes to love, and I’m sure you’ll be very happy with James Sanderson.”

“Yes, I expect I shall,” Kate said brightly. “Thank you very much for your kind words. Now if you’ll all excuse me, I must get back to the laboratory.”

I was on duty until midnight, and after that I came down to B-Deck, hoping Kate would be there. But no one was in the darkened lounge. I floated round and round the circular deck like some lovesick whale, willing Kate to come to me. If she loved me, she would come. She would know I needed to be with her. I waited till one in the morning and then decided to wait just a little longer.

When I woke up, bumping against the ceiling, it was nearly six o’clock. My shift on the bridge would be starting in just a few minutes.

I was about to hurry upstairs and scrub my face with a damp washcloth when I heard some noise from C-Deck. I swam over to the staircase and saw lights. I jetted silently down. Kate was already up and at work, head bent over a microscope.

“Marry me,” I said.

Kate twisted around with a gasp. “You scared me!”

I’d scared myself. I hadn’t planned what I was going to say, and the words had just leapt out. But there was no taking them back now. Kate started at me, the surprise on her face turning into pure astonishment.

“What did you say?”

I swallowed. “Will you marry me?”

Her eyes slid away from mine. “Please don’t ask me that,” she murmured.

“Why not?”

She laughed nervously. “I’m already engaged; I can’t be engaged to two people at the same time, can I?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem, for someone of your talents.”

“And just what’s that supposed to mean?” she said angrily.

“You’re avoiding my question,” I countered. I was still bobbing about in the air, making little swimming motions with my hands to stay upright, and I felt completely undignified. I wished I’d strapped myself down before starting all this.

“I’ve already told you,” she said. “I’m not sure I mean to marry
anyone
.”

“So you can end up like Miss Karr?” I whispered. The ship would soon begin stirring, and I was nervous someone might overhear.

Kate tilted her chin up. “I have the greatest admiration for Miss Karr.”

“She pushes a monkey around in a pram!”

“She’s an amazingly accomplished woman who pursues her own ambitions.”

“Yes, I know how important that is for you. Maybe important enough to make you marry James Sanderson.”

Kate growled in exasperation. “I’ve told you already, I’ve no intention of marrying the fellow.”

“Oh really?” I said, and then I let the hammer fall. “Then why’d you even bother
asking
him if he’d let you continue your work once you two married?”

She stared at me, speechless. Then her nostrils narrowed as she inhaled an angry breath. “You read my letter.”

I nodded.

“How did you get hold of it?”

“It was floating in the hallway outside your room.”

“That was very rude of you to open it.”

I gave a savage laugh. “How naughty of me! Almost as bad as
deceiving
people to get what you want.”

“I haven’t deceived you!” she protested.

“No? Were you really planning on breaking off the engagement, or did you just lie to me so I wouldn’t make a fuss.”

Her face was very pale. “Is that really what you think?”

She looked almost hurt, but I didn’t trust her anymore, so I said, “Yes, that’s what I think.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” she said coldly.

We glared at each other, and then I heard metallic footfalls, and Sir Hugh came clanking down the stairs.

“You’re up early, Miss de Vries,” he called out. “Oh, hello, Mr. Cruse.”

“That does seem very interesting work, Miss de Vries,” I said to Kate, as I retreated. “I look forward to hearing more about it. Good morning, Sir Hugh.”

And I left the laboratory, floating weightless, my heart as heavy as the planet Earth.

R
ising from the counterweight’s summit, the Canadian flag fluttered with surreal slowness in outer space.

“That’s quite a sight,” Shepherd said, floating next to me in his space suit.

Far below us, earth was the size of a golf ball held at arm’s length. It seemed incredible that we were still connected to it by such a narrow thread. The music of the spheres played softly within my mind.

We’d reached cable’s end at noon. Mr. Lunardi had radioed us a congratulatory telegram from the Prime Minister, and another from the king. We were the first humans in outer space, the highest anyone had ever been, twenty-five thousand miles above earth.

We’d drawn straws for the privilege of raising the flag on the counterweight, and Shepherd and I had won. I should’ve felt a huge sense of pride and accomplishment. We’d done our country proud. But I was still dejected after my conversation with Kate this morning.

“How’re you two making out up there?” Tobias asked from the air lock.

“The flag is up and looking beautiful,” I said.

“Wish we could see it from down here,” Tobias said.

The
Starclimber
was berthed like last time, right underneath the counterweight, its view blocked by the rocket engines.

“I took some nice pictures,” Shepherd said. Miss Karr had equipped him with one of her cameras, and it floated from his suit on a tether. “We’re coming in now.”

We began our descent to the
Starclimber
. Off to our left hung the moon, seeming much larger than earth. It really did look close enough to reach with a big push. I thought of Tobias and his dreams of setting foot on it one day.

“You planning to stay on as an astralnaut?” I asked Shepherd.

“Maybe,” he said. “My days as a test pilot are numbered.”

I looked over at him in surprise, but his mirrored visor told me even less than his usual inscrutable expression. “The migraines?” I asked.

“When the Aeroforce finds out, they’ll move me to a desk job.”

“But you can tell when they’re coming on, can’t you?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s a weakness, and they’ll give me the boot.”

“Doesn’t seem fair at all,” I said. “I can’t see you in a desk job.”

“That’s why I tried out for the astralnaut program. Thought it might be a way to keep flying high.”

I realized this was the longest real conversation we’d ever had. Maybe behind his mirrored mask, out here in the deeps of space, Shepherd felt free to talk, even with Tobias listening in from the air lock. I suddenly wondered if that cool, composed face of his was a kind of mask too. He hadn’t revealed much about himself to me, except his infuriating arrogance and perfectionism. For the first time, I felt sorry for him. The migraines were going to cost him his beloved job—and in his mind they were a shameful weakness. Try as he might, he’d never be perfect.

“Well,” I said, “the captain’s still letting you make space walks.”

“He’s a decent man,” said Shepherd. “We’ll see what happens when we get back to earth. Lunardi may ground me.”

“I think he’d be making a mistake,” I said.

“What about you, Cruse?” he asked. “You staying on?”

Reflected in Shepherd’s visor was a small, intense flare of green light. I swiveled myself around. The light was no larger than a candle flame, moving slowly across the heavens.

“Look!” I cried, pointing. “Do you see it?”

“I see it,” he replied.

“Tobias, we’ve spotted a green moving light,” I reported.

“I can’t see anything from down here,” came his reply. “Hang on, I’m going to connect us to the bridge.”

Shepherd had the camera to his face and was taking pictures. I tracked it across the heavens. Over the radio I could hear Tobias telling the captain what was going on. Then I lost sight of the light as it passed behind the counterweight. My gaze settled on the other side, waiting for it to reappear. It didn’t. I waited another few seconds. I should’ve seen it by now, unless—

“It’s coming straight for us,” said Shepherd.

Green light emanated from behind the rocket’s hull like an aura, growing swiftly more intense.

“Do you have a distance, Mr. Shepherd?” said the captain.

“Hard to say, sir…”

An immense green mass streaked over our heads. There was no turbulence, no blast of wind from its wake. But the sheer size and nearness of the thing sent a tremor of fear through me. Heart pounding, I whirled clumsily, half blinded by the light.

“Where is it?” I cried.

Shepherd had a hand to his visor, shielding his eyes. He pointed.

Silhouetted against the moon was a long, dark shape. No green light emanated from it now. The thing was tapered like a wedge. From this distance it was the size of my gloved thumb. It seemed to be waiting, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that it had intent. I couldn’t look away.

“It’s stationary right now,” I reported. “In front of the moon.”

“Its size?”

“I think it must be huge, sir.”

“It’s got to be a ship,” said Shepherd. “It’s too big to be anything else.”

“Mr. Cruse, Mr. Shephard, I want you back inside,” said the captain.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“I’ll start reeling in,” said Tobias.

The shape suddenly pulsed green. I counted three seconds before it pulsed again, then another three. I felt the gentle tug on my safety line and used my air pistol to position my body. Shepherd was snapping off more pictures. The thing was still motionless, flashing regularly.

Then we had to pay close attention, for we were maneuvering beneath the counterweight and between its massive engines, and then into the
Starclimber
’s air lock. I was glad to be back aboard the ship, though I couldn’t see how we’d be any safer inside than out.

We were imprisoned in the air lock until the pressure was high enough, and the needle moved with maddening slowness. I kept wondering what the thing was doing out there—just hovering, watching us? Or getting ready to ram the ship and pulverize us?

“I’m going to reverse the
Starclimber
so we have a clear view,” came the captain’s voice in my helmet. “We’re blind where we are right now.”

Through the porthole I saw the counterweight’s engines slip past, and we were back out in open space. I swallowed. Out in the open.

The moment the pressure needle touched 14.7 psi, we yanked off each other’s helmets, opened the interior hatch, and jetted out onto C-Deck, still in our suits. Kate and Sir Hugh were working in the lab, oblivious.

“You’ll want to see this,” I said to them, and we all continued on upstairs.

In the lounge, Miss Karr and Dr. Turgenev had already pulled down all the polarized blinds and were staring out the window at the strange silhouette pulsing against the cratered face of the moon.

“Miss Karr, as many pictures as you can,” Shepherd said, and hurried up to the bridge.

“It’s changing,” Kate said.

She was right. It had shrunk in length and now looked roughly square.

“What’s it doing?” said Sir Hugh, squinting.

“Turning,” I said. “And coming straight at us.”

In just a few heartbeats the shape had doubled in size.

“Why aren’t we moving?” Sir Hugh demanded. “We have to get out of here!”

“It can outrun us,” I said, remembering the incredible speed with which it had streaked overhead. I wondered what the captain’s plan of action would be.

“What on earth is it?” Miss Karr muttered, taking one picture after another.

“It’s no meteoroid,” said Kate.

“Agreed,” said Dr. Turgenev.

The thing’s green light filled the lounge as it grew in size. We were helpless, our hands raised to shield our eyes despite the polarized blinds.

“It’s stopped flashing!” said Tobias.

Kate had her field glasses around her neck and raised them to her face. I seized a spyglass that was floating near the window. Now that it wasn’t blinding us anymore, I might get a decent look at it. A faint green aura still hung about the thing as it streaked toward us. Was it some kind of ship after all? It was hard to keep focus on it, it was moving so swiftly. My eyes skittered across its dark flanks, searching for the glint of metal.

“It’s not a vessel,” Kate said quietly. “Or a machine.”

Through my spyglass I saw an eye.

It was a very long, narrow oval, and it didn’t have the hard quality of metal. It had translucence—and a kind of consciousness.

I lowered the spyglass.

“It’s alive,” breathed Tobias.

The creature filled almost the whole window now, and was still closing on us. I tried to makes sense of its blunt, sloping head. Two eyes angled far back on either side, and above them was a deep crease, which I assumed was a mouth, but I wasn’t sure, for the thing had so many deep gouges and creases. I had no idea which was its back and which its belly, because it had no limbs at all—no dorsal fins or flukes or tail. The steep angle of its eyes gave it a terrifying look. And then it opened its jaws.

“Good God!” cried Sir Hugh.

“It’s the same species!” cried Kate. “It’s an etherian! This must be an adult!”

Between its cavernous jaws stretched vast blades of baleen. I knew the hatchlings could eat only astral plankton, but I couldn’t help wondering what an adult might inhale through its baleen. Even if it had no interest in us, there was no ignoring the terrible power of its head and flanks. It could shatter the
Starclimber
.

“It’s going to ram us!” cried Sir Hugh. “Why isn’t the captain doing something?”

Tobias looked at me anxiously, then jetted toward the ship’s phone to call the bridge.

“I don’t think sudden movements are a good idea,” Kate said. “They tend to trigger an animal’s fight response.”

“Wait,” I said, “I think it’s slowing down…it’s definitely slowing down!”

The etherian couldn’t have been more than a hundred feet from us now, filling all the windows of the lounge. It was at least the size of the
Starclimber
. Without warning, a single pulse of green light exploded from its body.

Haiku was flinging himself around the lounge, shrieking in terror.

A second green pulse engulfed us.

Then a third.

“Five seconds between pulses!” said Kate.

“Why’s it doing this?” Tobias said.

Kate turned to Sir Hugh excitedly. “The male firefly flashes every five seconds when trying to attract a mate.”

Miss Karr looked up from her camera, alarmed. “It wants to mate with us?”

“Bloody hell,” muttered Tobias.

The lounge’s phone rang and I snatched it up. It was Shepherd.

“We’ve got one on our other side.”

“There’s another one!” I said, jetting across to the opposite windows. Kate and Tobias came with me.

Far away, a blue light flashed rapidly.

“It’s not us they’re interested in!” said Kate. “It’s each other! They’re communicating! Sir Hugh, it’s bioluminescence, just like
Photinus pyralis
!”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Fireflies,” she said. “The male flashes every five seconds, the female every two when trying to attract a mate.”

The blue light was growing in size, pulsing urgently.

“Green one is moving now!” shouted Dr. Turgenev from across B-Deck.

Through my window I saw the etherian gliding slowly out from beneath the
Starclimber
, and for the first time I realized how truly vast and long it was. It was like something made from the moon itself, ancient and silent and mysterious. Its mottled black and gray flanks had an armored look and were scored with countless furrows, some quite fine, others deep fissures.

“It looks like it’s been mauled,” Tobias said.

“No,” said Kate. “Scars from micrometeoroids. Look how straight they are.”

“This is right,” said Dr. Turgenev, floating over with Miss Karr. “Every day, creature would encounter many such impacts.”

“It looks a bit like a blue whale,” said Tobias. “I saw one once. They can be a hundred feet long.”

The etherian was twice that, and I shook my head in wonder as I stared and stared. The ancient mariners must have felt like this, when they’d leaned far out over the railings of their vessels to take their first look at the great denizens of the oceans.

And Tobias was right. Peering down now, you might, just for a second, have confused it for a whale, for along its back were countless blowholes. As I watched, one of them twitched and dilated. A geyser of vapor shot out, and the
Starclimber
shuddered violently with the impact. The etherian pivoted deftly, adjusted itself with another little burst of gas, and then glided slowly in the direction of the growing blue light.

The creature was completely out from beneath the ship now, and I saw that the tapered end of its body glowed pale green.

“That’s where it makes its light!” said Kate excitedly, pointing. “That tail segment there!”

As if to prove her right, it gave a green pulse that made us all squint and laugh.

This was what Kate and I had seen from the Paris Observatory, all those weeks ago. I glanced at her, wondering if she was thinking the same thing. Her face was close to mine at the window, and I could smell the familiar scent of her hair and skin. But her eyes were on the etherians, and it made me sad, for everything seemed so different and ruined between us now.

I could see the massive dark outline of the blue etherian as it drew closer. Flashing, the green one glided swiftly out to meet it, about a mile from the ship. Their pulsing lights subsided to a dim, erratic stutter as the two creatures circled about each other.

Then, suddenly, their tails erupted into flashes of colors we hadn’t seen before. Purples and reds and oranges, dazzling in their intensity. It was all so joyful I had to laugh, echoing the delight of everyone at the window, to see this ecstatic color in the dark of space.

Haiku too seemed enchanted with the cosmic fireworks. Before this, he’d been shaking his fist at the creatures and making strange yipping sounds. But now his old man’s face tilted and became thoughtful, eyes bright.