The Ganymede Club (7 page)

4

EARTH: 2067 A.D.

Ten miles from the Corpus Christi spaceport, above-ground progress became impossible. Lola Belman took one last look at the sea of vehicles ahead as the bus driver made its assessment of all route loadings, computed probable delays, and ramped down into the tunnel net.

"Where are we going? What's happening?"

Spook, sitting at Lola's side near the front, was more annoyed than alarmed. To a ten-year-old, anything new was interesting. For all he knew, the spaceport access route was always crowded. But Lola had told him that they would see hundreds of spacecraft on the ground as soon as they got near enough, and now he felt cheated. The thin plume of lifting ships, taking off under laser boost, had been visible from fifty miles away as violet jets in the late-afternoon sky; but by now the novelty of that had faded.

"It's nothing. Just a traffic jam."

Lola said it, but she didn't believe it. Jaime and Theresa Belman might pretend that everything was normal, that the family trip to Ganymede was a vacation they had been planning for a long time. At ten their son was young enough to accept the story. Lola, at twenty-two, knew better. She wasn't much interested in news broadcasts, but at the moment they were hard to ignore. Everyone seemed to be making boring speeches: accusations of skullduggery, frantic boasts of Earth's military might, mockery of Belt threats and weapons—and warnings to civilians to prepare for possible attack.

After a few days of that, the speeches were just noise in your ears. But this—clogged roads and tunnels, nervous passengers, checkpoints tended by men in uniform—was different. It seemed like history, a video reconstruction of ancient times. This was the sort of thing that had happened a hundred or two hundred years ago, but not now.

Most significant, her parents had suffered a sudden and unexplained change of mind. Instead of all four of them leaving Earth for Ganymede in one week's time, she and Spook had to leave
today
, without adequate time to pack, without visiting grandparents, without the farewell party for friends. The explanation—that cheap tickets were available—had been enough for Spook. He couldn't wait to be off into space. To Lola, though, her parents' statement was no more credible than the political speeches of the past month. Her mother and father wouldn't even listen to her plea: that she would rather stay and travel with them. She and Spook had been hustled onto the bus with maximum speed and minimum dignity.

They were slowing down now, creeping along at a walking pace. Finally the bus halted completely.

"The spaceport terminals are one-point-two kilometers ahead," said the driver. "Unfortunately, the tunnels beyond this point are presently impassable for vehicular traffic. Passengers must proceed the rest of the way on foot. There will be signs to direct you to your flights."

The whole bus filled at once with a hubbub of protest.

"What about our luggage? Will it be loaded automatically?"

"We were supposed to meet our group at the drop-off point. Are there signs for that?"

"I have four cases with me, and they're
heavy.
How am I supposed to carry them?"

"A kilometer? You stupid machine, I can't walk a kilometer. I need wheelchair assistance. I can't walk more than a few steps."

That came from an old man who had been sitting just behind Lola and Spook. He seemed to have no trouble at all walking as he hurried forward and began to hammer on the blue cylinder of the driver's control unit with his black walking stick.

Lola grabbed her brother's hand. "Come on. We've had all the help from the driver we're going to get."

"But our luggage—"

"Can look after itself. Either it gets on the same ship as us, or it gets on the next one."
I hope.
Lola felt she should be crossing her fingers. "We can't worry about it now.
Come on.
"

Even on foot, progress along the tunnel was slow. Vehicles were everywhere, some empty, some still containing passengers conducting hopeless arguments with the automated driver units. The lighting was poor. It had never been intended for anything more than vehicles, whose controls had no need for any sort of illumination.

Lola followed the signs for Gate 53, still holding tight to her brother's hand. She knew he was supersmart, but when the mood took him he could be a super-smart-ass. He wasn't called Spook for nothing. If he exercised his famous skill at disappearing and made them miss their flight, it would somehow become
her
fault. Her parents would never forgive her.

Less than half a kilometer to go. Would they emerge above ground, or would the tunnel lead them right to the Gate's lower level? That was Lola's main worry when, without warning, all the lights went out. The darkness around her filled with curses and nervous moans. At the same moment she lost her grip on Spook's sweaty palm.

"Augustus Belman! Stay where you are and don't move."

"Don't you
ever
call me that! I'm
Spook.
And I'm
not
moving." His voice, right next to her, was high-pitched and indignant. "Where d'you think I could go? I can't see a frigging thing!"

"No cussing!" He sounded perfectly normal—and the lights, thank God, were flickering back on. Not as bright as before, but enough to see by.

"Let's go, Spook—as fast as we can."

Something far more serious than a lighting failure was going on. Lola felt a tremor—the ground vibrating beneath her feet. A current of air swept through the tunnel from behind, and it was filled with fine dust that, for a few seconds, had everyone coughing and choking.

Forward movement was becoming more difficult. She had told Spook they must travel fast, but some people seemed to have given up. They were lying down or sitting, leaning against the tunnel walls. It was necessary to step over legs and bodies. Trying not to tread on them, Lola also had to keep an eye open for the routing signs that blinked occasionally to life.

Gate 55. Gate 57. The signs were there. Had they somehow missed Gate 53? With enormous relief, Lola saw the sign they wanted over to their left. Its light was out, but she could make out the arrow pointing to an escalator.

An escalator that seemed to lead up forever into darkness—and that was not working. Lola pushed Spook ahead of her, clutching the back of his shirt. The steps were clogged with people, some doubled over and panting for breath, a few others standing hopelessly waiting for the escalator to return to life and carry them upward.

Spook stopped, making her bump into him. "Sis, what's
happening
here?"

She didn't have the breath to answer, even if she could. The ship they were supposed to be on departed at 7:00 P.M. It was now five forty-five, and she dared not even guess at the turmoil and delays they were likely to encounter at the gate.

"Keep going." The end of the escalator was finally in sight. Gate transit and security were just beyond. Ominously, the area was almost deserted. A solitary woman in transit blue stood at a security checkpoint, directing angry and baffled passengers.

"Flight 670 already left." She hardly glanced at Lola's outstretched tickets. "I know it shouldn't have, but we're not running on the usual schedules."

"What's happening?"

"Go along the tunnel there and up the other escalator—that one's working." She ignored Lola's question. "Hurry. Another flight is ready to leave. It's full, but we'll squeeze you on board."

"Our bags—," protested Spook.

"—will be fine." Lola grabbed his hand again. "Let's go." She dragged him toward the tunnel, and was rewarded with a grateful smile and a wave from the transit official.

The tunnel was long and curved to the right. It led to a rising stair. At the upper end Lola saw the purple of the night sky. She ran up the rising escalator, eager to be above ground again. Just before they reached the top, the opening ahead filled with a flash of pale orange. As they emerged onto a wide spaceport launchpad, Lola expected to hear the explosion. There was no sound, only another flicker in the sky like a far-off sheet lightning, and then, from one of the other pads, the
whoosh
of a laser launch.

"Go on." A man in blue was waving them toward the stubby ship that stood on their pad. He showed no interest in tickets or any form of identification. "Run. You'll be the last. Lift in two minutes."

It was sunset, with the last glimmer of light on the western horizon. As Lola and Spook ran along the ramp to the entry hatch above the ship's engine and pusher pad, the silver of the ship's curved side had an orange-yellow glimmer. Lola turned her head. She saw a lightning flash, high in the sky behind them, which, as she watched, blossomed into a rosette of crimson and white. And then the ramp cover was over them, and they were being hustled aboard.

Every passenger seat seemed to be taken, but a man wearing the grey uniform of Lunar Service gestured to them to sit down next to him on an attendant's foldaway bench. It was a space designed for only one person, and Lola and Spook could barely fit. She wriggled her hips, trying to avoid the seat arm. She had been to space before, and she knew how uncomfortable even a couple of gees of acceleration could be.

The hatch was closing. This was the time for a flight attendant to stand up and give them the usual three-minute lecture about safety procedures, exit points, and the use of belts, hatches, and free-fall barf bags.

But not today. Before Lola could fasten or even find her belt, a powerful vibration filled the cabin. The seat swiveled so that they were lying on their backs. She was pressed hard into the cushions. She heard Spook's grunt of protest. He was wedged in between her and the bony lunar serviceman.

"What's happening?" It was Lola's turn to ask that question.

"We're taking off." The man was almost too casual, and she noticed he was wearing the chevrons and crossed bars of the Lunar Defense League. She saw the name tag on his pocket:
Audie Coline.
"In a bit of a hurry," he went on. "Don't worry, though, we're perfectly safe."

"But
those.
" Lola knew quite well that they were taking off—that's not what her question meant, and he must have known. One of the ship's small circular ports was on his left, and she lifted a lead-filled arm to point. Another rosette was blooming in the sky, on the northern horizon. Off to the west, the sun had reappeared as the ship lifted higher.

"Nothing to get excited about." Coline was answering her but he was turning to look at Spook, managing a grin that was turned oddly lopsided by the ship's acceleration. "The spaceports are operating on an emergency basis, and as you saw for yourselves they're totally screwed up. Heads should roll down there, because we've been expecting something like this for quite a while. We should have been ready. It's the Belt government's idea of a show of force, letting us know what they could do if they really tried. They've sent a bunch of probes into cislunar space."

"They're attacking Earth?" Lola was suddenly terrified, not for herself and Spook, but for the parents they had left behind.

"No. The probes have dummy warheads. The Belt wants to make the point that since they can beat our deep radar detection system, Earth and Mars should meet their economic demands. But the point they've actually made is quite different. See that?"

He gestured at the port next to him, apparently unaffected by the acceleration. The ship was curving off toward the east, already into the last minute of its laser-boost launch. Farther east and high above them, another bright blossom of light was growing. Beyond it the Moon was visible in its thin crescent phase.

"The Belt has just learned that the Armageddon Defense Line up there can pick off anything they send into cislunar space, without hardly trying. Wish I'd been on Luna to help. You can't see it without a scope, but we're targeting their probes and blowing them up."

"All of them?" Lola remembered the frightening ground vibration and failed lighting. "Something hit while we were in the tunnel on the way to the spaceport."

"Quite true." Coline seemed delighted. "The Armageddon line knocks off everything the Belt sends with no trouble at all—but some clown on Earth couldn't resist having a go with the ground-based spaceport perimeter defense. That equipment is half a century old, and it's never been used. They should have known it wouldn't work. And it didn't. One of the hi-vee projectors blew up when it was discharged. You felt it, and I saw it.
And
the power draw knocked out half the electricity supply lines. Thank goodness, the laser launchers are on independent power lines, or we'd still be sitting there." He laughed. "Anyway, all the damage to Earth today has been
self-inflicted.
Maybe from now on they'll leave it to professionals."

As he spoke, the laser boosters on the ground finished their work. The ship was suddenly in free fall, moving more than fast enough to take it into orbit.

"Where are you two heading?" The lunar serviceman had reached across both Spook and Lola with his long arm, making sure that even without their belts they were in no danger of floating across the cabin.

"To Ganymede. Our parents are coming out next week to join us." Lola felt a huge sense of relief. Her worries about Jaime and Theresa Belman had all been unnecessary. "We're taking our vacation there."

"So you'll make your ship transfer when we get to geosynch. That's a couple more hours. Looks like the excitement's all over." He nodded at the port. "By the time we arrive at geosynch everything should be all quiet again."

The flicker of lights had ended. Bright, steady stars were replacing the blooming deep-space explosions.

"I only went to Ganymede once," Coline said, "and I didn't care for it." The slight vibration and the return of partial gravity showed that the ship's own engines were working, lifting them to a higher orbit. Attendants were beginning to move from seat to seat, helping passengers who had thrown up during the free-fall phase. Suddenly it felt like a normal flight. "The natives there are rock rats," he went on, "all of 'em, they don't see the sky more than once a year but they don't seem to miss it. Any idea what you're going to do when you get there?"