Starclimber (28 page)

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“There’s a hole in the cable.”

“Mr. Cruse, will you repeat that please?” came Captain Walken’s voice.

“The barnacles, their glue, or whatever it is, it’s corrosive. It’s…”

“Damn it…” murmured Shepherd, peering at the stretch of cable he’d just exposed between us. “It’s like it’s been scored with acid.”

I now saw little fissures in it, like cracks in ice.

“Mr. Cruse, is the cable intact?” the captain asked urgently.

“It’s intact, but badly damaged,” I said, not recognizing my own numb voice. “We pried off some barnacles, and the surface underneath is splintered….” I wasn’t thinking clearly anymore. “We’re going to need Tobias out here to do some welding. It…. it doesn’t look at all strong….”

“Return to the ship now!” said Captain Walken. “Mr. Blanchard, bring them back in.”

“Hold up, Blanchard,” said Shepherd. “We’ve got to get out of our rigs.”

We both started fumbling with our harness tethers.

I couldn’t keep my eyes off the cable. It had always seemed terribly thin to me, but now, pitted and cracked, it looked as frail as cobweb. I thought of the counterweight whirling around the earth, and Ground Station anchored in the earth’s bones, and the tremendous strain upon the taut cable in between.

And as my eyes skittered nervously along its surface, I saw one of the whisker-thin fissures stretching out across the cable’s width.

“It’s breaking!” I shouted.

Shepherd looked down just as the cable split, and we both instinctively reached for it with our gloves, clumsily trying to hold it together. For one impossible moment it seemed to work.

We gripped the cable from opposite sides with our hands, holding heaven to earth.

But then a gap opened, at first no more than a finger’s width—and it was almost comical, for the gap seemed such a little thing. You could mend it with needle and thread.

The two ends began to slide away from each other, for the
Starclimber
was bound to the counterweight, which was moving much faster than earth, and now it had broken free.

Shepherd and I were still tethered to the cable—me on the ship’s side of the gap, Shepherd on earth’s side.

“Your straps!” I shouted. “Just cut them!”

I reached my hand out to him, but he was already too far away.

I saw his umbilicus, racing out from the air lock to keep up with him. He fumbled for his knife.

“Shepherd’s getting left behind!” I shouted.

He was already so far away from me.

“His umbilicus is running out!” I heard Tobias yell.

“Shepherd, hurry!” I gasped.

“Help!” he cried out, his voice hoarse with terror.

I saw his umbilicus stretch taut, then recoil, looping back on itself, the end ripped clean out of Shepherd’s suit. His oxygen spewed into outer space. His silver suit crumpled as it lost all its pressure.

“Stop!” I shouted madly. “We’ve got to go back for Shepherd!”

“Matt, get inside!” commanded the captain. “He’s gone!”

I heard Shepherd call out again for help, his voice crackling with static.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I said.

“Matt, I’m going to reel you in, are you ready!” Tobias barked. “Are you ready?”

My shaking fingers couldn’t manage my harness tethers, so I just unclamped the entire roller rig from the cable. I thought I heard Shepherd’s voice once more over the radio, but I was sobbing and could not make out his words. I felt the tug on my umbilicus, drawing me back toward the
Starclimber
. I couldn’t see Shepherd anymore, but I could not stop myself imagining what was happening to him, his body losing heat and oxygen and going cold as ice and colder still as he was dragged homeward.

A
s the air lock pressurized, I started shaking so badly inside my suit I thought I was going to fly apart. Tobias placed his hands on my shoulders. I couldn’t see his face, and he couldn’t see mine, but his steady grip calmed me, and my trembling eased.

“His umbilicus ripped right out,” I panted when Tobias removed my helmet. “He couldn’t get out of his harness fast enough.”

“I should’ve made the straps easier to undo,” he said, looking as sick as I felt.

“It happened so fast. The cable snapped and he was already out of reach, like he was being dragged. There was no way of stopping it.”

“It’s really broken?” Tobias said.

“It’s really broken.”

When we got up to B-Deck, Kate and Miss Karr and Sir Hugh were in the lounge, chatting, and I realized they didn’t know what had happened yet. For them, everything was still all right, and I shut my eyes and wished I could be them, even for just ten seconds.

Captain Walken and Dr. Turgenev floated hurriedly down from the bridge, both looking very grave.

“What’s happened?” Kate demanded.

“Where’s Mr. Shepherd?” Miss Karr asked.

“The barnacles ate through the cable,” I said.

“You mean it’s broken?” Sir Hugh said, his voice rising.

“Yes,” said the captain.

“Well, can it be fixed?” asked Miss Karr. “And where is Mr. Shepherd?”

“Mr. Shepherd—” I began, and could not speak. I felt like a fist had tightened around my throat. Tears sprang to my eyes and drifted through the air in tiny spheres.

“Oh, no,” Kate gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

“Mr. Shepherd died outside,” the captain said. “When the cable broke, he was dragged away from the ship. His lifeline snapped.”

“How horrible,” whispered Miss Karr.

“Poor man,” said Dr. Turgenev.

“Did he have any family?” Sir Hugh asked. “He never talked much about himself.”

“I know he was engaged,” I said, choking out the words.

For a few moments no one could say anything. I kept seeing Shepherd’s space suit crumpling up, hearing his voice dissolve into crackles over my radio.

“And what’s to become of the rest of us?” Sir Hugh asked quietly.

“This moment,” Dr. Turgenev said, “we are still attached to counterweight. Only now, counterweight is not attached to earth. It has flown free.”

“Will it stay in orbit?” Kate asked.

Dr. Turgenev shook his head. “It has great deal of velocity and will soon break out of orbit.”

“And take us with it,” I said numbly.

“You mean deeper into space?” Miss Karr asked.

“Correct,” said Dr. Turgenev. “Eventually out of solar system altogether.”

Sir Hugh’s face lost all its remaining color, and his chest rose and fell heavily, as though he were sobbing.

“We need to get off the cable,” said Captain Walken.

Sir Hugh looked at him, horrified. “But then nothing will be holding us up!”

“We don’t need holding up right now,” I said, starting to feel more in control of myself. “We’re still weightless.”

“Why can’t we get ourselves back onto the other half of the cable?” said Sir Hugh. “That’s what we should be doing!”

“This would be unwise,” said Dr. Turgenev. “It will be swiftly dragged back to earth. With us riding it, it falls out of control all the faster. No. Captain is correct, we need to get off cable.”

“Will we keep orbiting earth?” I asked the scientist.

“We are at twenty thousand miles now,” he said. “No longer in geosynchronous orbit. Even as we speak we accelerate into decaying orbit.”

“Decaying?” said Miss Karr, sounding fed up. “Dr. Turgenev, I’d like a little more plain talk here. Meaning what?”

Dr. Turgenev started polishing his spectacles with great ferocity. “Meaning eventually we get pulled back into earth’s atmosphere at enormous velocity and burn up like shooting star.”

“No…” moaned Sir Hugh, his large hands gripping his head.

“How long will we have?” Captain Walken asked.

“Perhaps several days, but battery will run out long before.”

I swallowed. I’d not thought of this. Severed from Ground Station, we were no longer getting electricity. At the end of six hours we’d be without light, or heat, or the power to pump oxygen through the ship. We’d freeze to death and suffocate before Earth pulled us back to her.

“Can we radio Ground Station for help?” Kate asked.

“The cable was our antenna,” I said. “We’ve lost contact.”

“Start shutting off everything that’s not necessary,” said Captain Walken. “Lights, any machinery we don’t absolutely need. Mr. Blanchard, come with me, please. We need to move the
Starclimber
off the cable.”

The two of them jetted up to the bridge, and I was left with the others. We silently floated about, switching off all the lights on B-Deck. Dr. Turgenev and Kate went down to the lab to turn off any scientific apparatus that wasn’t essential.

I heard the ship’s rollers humming and felt queasy, for I knew exactly what was happening. I saw it all in my mind’s eye. The severed end of the astral cable was disappearing up into the
Starclimber
’s central shaft, past the rollers in C-Deck, past B-Deck and A-Deck. And now the cable was coming out through the bow, where the spidery external arms had their final grip on it before it slipped through into empty space. It hung above the glass dome for a moment, forever out of reach, and then swiftly disappeared. My heart pounded.

Nothing held us now.

We were all alone, adrift.

Chef Vlad emerged from the kitchen and pressed little cups of brandy into our hands. I took a sip through the straw and felt a numbing, reassuring heat against my throat.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Medicinal purpose only,” he said, patting my back. “We need food. No, no, do not argue with me. I know about food and how and when people need it. I will make food for us now!”

In the lounge Dr. Turgenev had a pencil and a slide rule, and was frantically doing calculations on a notepad. Sir Hugh sat strapped into an armchair, his eyes tightly shut, as though hoping he’d open them to a new and better day.

“Well,” said Miss Karr with a sardonic smile. “We’ve come through one scrape. With all the big brains around here, I’m sure we’ll get through this one too.”

We all nodded and said yes, yes.

But we didn’t talk much after that. I think we were all too scared to voice our fears, in case they swelled and billowed and filled the room to bursting. The captain had turned the heat down, and already it was getting chilly, so we went up to our cabins briefly for extra clothing.

Aside from the cold, the ship felt not one bit different, but this wasn’t reassuring at all. It made it worse, because we could almost force ourselves to believe we were still making our normal descent earthward—but only for a second, and then it was like learning the crushing truth all over again.

The captain and Tobias came downstairs to join us. There was little need for anyone on the bridge right now. There was no way of piloting the
Starclimber
. Tobias looked very pale. He accepted a cup of brandy and took a big swallow.

I noticed a small leather-bound book in Captain Walken’s hand.

“There’s no prayer yet for loss of life in outer space,” he said. “The closest I could find was for the sea.”

He opened the book and we all bowed our heads.

“Lord God, as we commit the body of our brother Charles Shepherd to the deep, grant him peace and tranquility….”

The prayer was brief and beautiful, but I can’t say I found it comforting. I didn’t like thinking of his body all alone out there.

After a moment’s silence Captain Walken looked up at us. “Now then, we need to find a way back to earth.”

I was amazed at how easily he said it. It wasn’t a question but a confident statement of fact. Going home was within our grasp; he was telling us all we needed to do was bend our wills to the task.

Just then Chef Vlad appeared from the kitchen and summoned us all to the table to eat. For a moment, Captain Walken looked like he was about to object, but then he just smiled and nodded. Like obedient children, we drifted to the dining area, buckled ourselves to our seats, and let Chef Vlad put food before us. It smelled delicious.

I picked up my cup of water. “To Mr. Shepherd.”

“To Mr. Shepherd,” the others said solemnly.

It felt good to eat, and was surprisingly comforting: to chew, to swallow, to feel something satisfied inside you.

“Dr. Turgenev,” said the captain, “I see you’ve been making notes. Do you have any ideas?”

The Russian scientist blew air out his cheeks. “Ship was designed only to climb cable. So we did not make engines. Why make engines, since cable was unbreakable?”

“Well, it bloody well wasn’t, was it?” puffed Sir Hugh. “A little barnacle just ate it!”

“Unbreakable on earth,” said Dr. Turgenev. “We test and test it….” He trailed off, like he couldn’t quite believe this terrible thing had happened.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Turgenev,” said Sir Hugh. “That was uncalled for.”

Hovering over the table, eating tidbits from Miss Karr, Haiku let loose with an explosive fart that jetted him halfway across the lounge.

“Miss Karr,” said Sir Hugh, “it’s a shame we can’t harness your monkey’s flatulence to get home.”

I stared at the drifting monkey and had a brainstorm.

“That’s it!” I said. “Jet propulsion, like the etherians!”

Tobias was looking at me like I’d cracked, but then I saw the light come on in his eyes.

“We’ve got no rocket engines,” I said, “but we do have compressed gas. There’s an emergency tank of oxygen in the air lock.”

Captain Walken was nodding, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Carry on, Mr. Cruse.”

“Open the valve, out it shoots—and off we go!” I said.

Kate’s eyes were wide. “Surely that can’t be enough to get us back to earth.”

“We’re weightless,” I told her. “There’s a lot of force in that canister. Dr. Turgenev, what do you think?”

“It is crude form of propulsion,” he said.

“It’s the only one we have,” I replied.

The Russian scientist looked glum. “We cannot control thrust or duration. Once valve is opened, gas will vent until gone. It will be single big push.”

“But could it get us home?” Captain Walken asked.

Dr. Turgenev rocked his head from side to side. “I don’t know.” I could tell he was getting interested in the problem, and I watched him with a mixture of dread and hope. “Let me see tank. Go get for me.”

At once I glided down to the air lock, unstrapped the emergency tank, and floated it back up to Dr. Turgenev. He peered at it over the top of his spectacles, making a few notations on his notepad, murmuring the names of symbols and numbers to himself. He looked very unhappy, and my heart sank.

“Yes, yes,” he said, “I think, given current speed, this would give us enough thrust to make reentry.”

“Thank heavens for farting monkeys,” said Miss Karr.

“How would we rig it?” I asked. “We can’t just point the tank out the hatch and turn it on.”

“We’d need to affix it to the outside hull,” said Captain Walken. “Very securely.”

“I can weld it,” Tobias said. “We’ve got the equipment aboard.”

“We forget something,” said Dr. Turgenev dolefully. “Please remember that earth’s atmosphere is thick, yes? Very dense. Remember shooting stars? That is rock, burning up as it hits atmosphere.”

“I don’t understand,” said Kate. “We always meant to reenter the atmosphere. No one talked about burning up before!”

“But on the cable we’d be going pretty slowly,” I said. “Only a hundred twenty-five miles an hour.”

“And that is not problem,” Dr. Turgenev said. “Now we make reentry at maybe, ah, seventeen thousand miles an hour.”

“That much?” said Sir Hugh, aghast.

Dr. Turgenev angled his hand steeply down to the table. “If we enter too steep, heat is too much, and we burn up.
Pfffft!
If too shallow”—he leveled off his hand, grazed the table, and deflected off it—“we skip off atmosphere like stone hitting water. We must make sure angle of ship is just right. But is impossible, because there is no way of steering
Starclimber
.”

This silenced everyone. I hadn’t thought about steering. It wasn’t as if a rudder would help us in outer space.

“The etherians have vents all over their bodies,” said Kate. “Isn’t there any way we could do the same kind of thing?”

“This is very complex system of thrusters,” said Dr. Turgenev. “I do not think we have time or resources up here.”

“The toilets!” Kate exclaimed.

“The girl’s come unhinged,” said Sir Hugh. “It’s no wonder, the pressure we’re all under.”

“I am
not
unhinged,” Kate said impatiently.

“No, no, she’s right,” I said, understanding. “The toilets flush out waste. It’s like a little controlled explosion. They could give us a push.”

“We have two toilets,” said Kate, beaming. “A-Deck and B-Deck, and they’re more or less on opposite sides of the ship, aren’t they?”

Captain Walken nodded. “Would those be enough to adjust our angle, Dr. Turgenev?”

“This is very crude,” said Dr. Turgenev doubtfully, pursing his lips.

I wouldn’t let my hopes cool so swiftly this time; by now I knew the tortuous way Dr. Turgenev thought things through.

“Maybe yes, it works,” said the scientist morosely. “We would have to flush toilets great deal. What we must do is this: We must angle ship where she can best take heat during reentry.”

“The stern,” said Captain Walken. “She’s thickest there, apart from the porthole. Tobias, can you weld something over that?”

Tobias nodded. “A couple layers of spare hull plate maybe.”

“Good,” said Dr. Turgenev. “We make reentry stern first, at angle of…um…I need to make more calculations for this.”

“So that means we’ll want the oxygen tank at the ship’s bow,” I said.

“Dead center,” said the captain. “The dome’s summit. There’s alumiron plate around the cable shaft.”