Chapter Fourteen

 

Six months dragged by. Cramer dozed off during his reading. The monitor showed only the distant stars. He longed to see at least a tiny rock, a miniature comet—even dust would be a welcome change. His eyes closed in drowsiness and popped open just a bit to glance at the monitor. He intended to succumb to sleep the next time his eyes shut. His eyelids drooped, then something moved on the screen. He blinked, refusing to believe it. The spectrum readout at the bottom of the screen indicated steel.

He bent forward, nearly toppling from the chair. He couldn’t believe it. A ship. Closer it came. The ship, a sleek pointed-nosed craft with polished metal and small fins in the middle and back of the body, appeared from a wavering like a field. The disturbance dissipated.

He started the waking procedure on Witherspoon and Mona’s chambers, then returned to the monitor. The ship slowed and attached to the deep sleep sphere’s air lock. He heard a faint clank and watched a cycling light. Cold chills swept over his body and refused to believe a ship could make the journey in five months—assuming they started as soon as they received the message and coordinates. Their average speed would have been near twenty percent the speed of light, something even Quest couldn’t match in that distance. Witherspoon and Mona got out of their chambers.

“I know this is incredible, but somebody is here less than six months after they received our signal.” Cramer pointed to the airlock.

“I don’t see how they—” Mona began.

“Me either.”

The door opened, and in stepped a short elderly man with a sunken mouth and a nose that almost touched his chin. That mouth puckered into a smile.

Cramer gasped and stumbled. “Floyd, how in the world?”

“I could say the same to you, Joe. But more appropriately, how in the universe?”

They hugged each other.

Mona said, “How did you get out here so fast, Floyd?”

“Yes. I don’t see a large drive engine,” Witherspoon said.

“First things first. There’s one more person who came along.” Floyd turned, allowing a woman in her thirties to enter.

Cramer felt weak all over when he saw her, very attractive, looking much like her mother. “Cindy, is that you?”

“Dad!” She ran to him, throwing her arms around him. He enclosed her, stroking her long brown hair.

“You’re healed! I thought I’d never see you again. I must be dreaming.” Tears flowed down his cheeks.

“We have a lot of catching up to do, but let’s do it on the way back home.”

“I’m happy for you, Joe,” Mona said, wrapping her arm around his shoulder.

“Forgive me. I’ve not introduced you. Cindy, this is Mona Watson and Brad Witherspoon.”

“Witherspoon, you kidnapped my dad.” With clenched fists, Cindy advanced.

“Cindy, there’s more you need to know. Mr. Witherspoon paid for what medical bills your dad couldn’t afford,” Floyd said.

“Still, that doesn’t excuse you. You deserve to be working in the Martian canyons with dust up to your knees and you wearing a sweaty space suit.” She set her hands on her hips.

“You’re absolutely right, Miss Cramer. I placed everyone in jeopardy just to save myself, and my good friend Hendricks is dead because of me. I know I can’t make it up to any of you.” Witherspoon’s deep bass voice threatened to crack. His sincerity rang true, his lips turned downward and his widely spaced teeth showing.

“Please, let’s let bygones be bygones and enjoy the moments we have together here,” Cramer said.

“You see Miss Cramer, that’s the reason why I had my eye on your father for this star voyage. I knew many years before the trip I wanted him. His personality and resilience on space missions was what I needed.”

“I don’t deserve that. Let’s drop this subject and tell me how that ship made it out here so fast,” Cramer said.

“We owe this ship’s ability to Dr. Ganzer,” Floyd said.

“The same Dr. Ganzer who perfected the field for our Jupiter divers?” Mona asked.

“Yes. He designed the engine and a way for us to stand the acceleration,” Floyd said.

“He got past the hydrogen storage problem by compressing it at the cold temperature of space into metallic hydrogen. Of course, that required the constant Ganzer Field to keep it that way,” Cindy added.

“But how can that field be maintained? That would take enormous quantities of energy,” Mona asked.

“Superconductivity, I’ll bet,” Cramer said.

“Right. Dr. Ganzer perfected an alloy that has near zero resistance at deep space temperatures. Closest thing to perpetual motion you can get. The metal handles tremendous amounts of power without generating significant heat,” Floyd said.

“A special titanium-tungsten alloy nozzle and magnetic bottle field combine to bring the metallic hydrogen into the engine where it ignites,” Cindy said. “Fasten your seat belts when that happens. If it weren’t for the Ganzer Field, we’d be crushed to pulp. The ship goes instantly to top speed. Same story on stopping. There are nose rocket engines, two of them bring us to a stop.”

“I’m convinced. All this technical talk has made me thirsty. Care to join me for some orange juice?” Cramer sipped on a cold bottle of the orange fluid. “It’s a good thing you came when you did. My supply of OJ is low.” That brought a round of laughter.

“Who’s that?” she asked, pointing to the covered chamber.

“Lila. Come over here.” He pulled back the cover to show Lila from the waist up.

“She’s an android,” Cindy said, her gaze going to the burned exposed circuits just above her waist.

“She’s more than that. She devoted all her time to comforting me because of being separated from you, not to mention getting us safely to Sirius and almost all the way back.”

“You speak as if she was a person.” Cindy’s head tilted.

“She is. She evolved into more than a machine. She developed true emotions at the end. And she isn’t brain dead, at least not yet. If we can get her back to Dr. Ganzer in time she can be repaired, supplied with a new power unit, and will retain her memories.”

“That’s going to be a problem,” she said, then turned to the rest of the people. “Our ship is small and the Ganzer Field has its limits. We can only take three persons back.”

“That’s not a problem,” Cramer said without hesitation.

“How can you say that?” Mona asked.

“I’m staying behind.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious. You can send somebody back for me, can’t you?”

“Not sure. Sanchez made it tough for us to make this trip. He’s up to something,” Floyd said.

“Sanchez. Just hearing his name makes my blood boil.” Cramer gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.

“Your forgiving attitude has its limits?” Mona asked.

“I hope that doesn’t disappoint you, Mona. He didn’t consider my life worth a plug nickel back on Europa.”

“Although he worked for me, I never told him to forfeit anybody’s life for my blind fish,” Witherspoon said.

“Mr. Witherspoon, I’m afraid there’s more bad news concerning Sanchez. He’s broken into and taken over your gold stock on Icarus,” Floyd said.

“What? How did he do that?”

“Long story, but he has a following,” Floyd said.

“Back to the limitation of passengers, I believe we should leave the remains of Lila behind,” Cindy said.

“No, sweetheart. I’m staying.”

“But Dad, she’s just a machine.”

“I told you, she’s more than that. She developed the emotions of compassion, jealousy, sorrow, and even love. With her dying breath she told me she loved me. A mere machine could not possibly be programmed to show those emotions. She made every effort to help me through my depression when I couldn’t be with you. She contacted the hospital on Mars and brought up the hologram of me. If it hadn’t been for her, I would have lost my sanity long ago. Yes, she was programmed to run the ship and get us to Sirius and back, but the many decisions she made went far beyond what an android would be programmed to do.”

“Joe is right, Cindy,” Witherspoon said. “Dr. Ganzer will be surprised to learn how she developed during this trip.”

“Unless Lila is taken back, it will be too late to revive her if she’s left behind. All of her experiences, emotions, and knowledge of the aliens and their language will be lost forever.”

“Okay, Joe, your point is valid, but I don’t want you to be left behind. I’ll stay,” Mona insisted.

A series of exchanges followed, with everyone volunteering to stay.

“Don’t make me give you concrete reasons why each of you should go and I should stay behind. There’s no time.” Cramer projected his resolve and no one took issue with him.

They remained silent, each one with their own solemn expression—Cindy crying without sound, Witherspoon looking down, Floyd’s smile no longer on his sunken mouth. Mona made eye contact with Cramer.

“Now you all get ready to leave.”

“We can spare some orange juice and other supplies to leave with you.” Cindy smiled, but was half laughing, half crying. After leaving what they could spare and loading Lila’s body on board, each said their own goodbyes to him.

“Joe, you have more than lived up to what I judged of you. I owe you my life.” Witherspoon clasped his huge hand onto Cramer’s.

“When I get back, we’ll bring Sanchez down, you can be sure of that,” he said. The big man nodded and entered the airlock.

“I’m looking forward to mining the solar system with you again. Olympus Mons Mining footed part of the bill for us coming to get you.” Floyd took hold of Cramer’s shoulders.

“I’m looking forward to it too, old friend. I’ve lost track of how many times I owe you my life.” He watched Floyd walk toward the airlock. He reached it, then stopped, turned around, and smiled. Cramer reflected sadly that Floyd was in his early eighties now. After he stepped through, Cindy came forward and threw her arms around him.

“I don’t like you being the one left behind, Dad.” She pulled back and clasped each of his hands with hers.

“I’ve been accustomed to this for a long time now.”

“You know it will be at least ten months before we get back.”

“Yes, I know, but after that we’ll be together always. I look forward to all the catching up. I’m sorry I allowed myself to be taken away from you. I was gone when you needed me the most.”

“It wasn’t your fault. What matters is we’re together now, or will be again.” Cindy hugged him again, then tugged on his arm to follow her out of earshot of Mona. Near the interlock to the taxi sphere she spoke with a low voice. “You like Mona very much, don’t you?”

“Does it show that much?”

“Why don’t you tell her how you feel?”

“I have, except I’ve not gone all the way and told her I love her. She said she was going to talk to me later about us, but she never has.”

“I hope she will be a part of your life.”

“She already is, but our ages are too different. She would be better to hook up with a younger man. Besides, I’m not sure she cares as much for me as I do for her. I won’t push her into talking to me about it. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s not to push her.”

“Oh, I can tell she cares for you.”

“How do you know?”

“A woman just knows these things.”

“Boy, you sure have learned a lot in the past…how many years?” Cramer asked.

“A woman’s intuition is something she’s born with,” she said as they walked to the airlock.

They hugged each other one more time, then with reluctance he let go of his daughter. He stared as she went through the airlock and felt that even if he didn’t get back, these few hours fulfilled his lifetime dream of her being healed. He looked at Mona, dreading to see her go.

She carried information recordings from Keldahl under her arm. “With this information from the aliens we ought to make a lot of medical advances. Keldahl provided detailed specs for the healing chambers.”

“I don’t believe we gave them anything in return.” Cramer looked down and grimaced.

“Keldahl wanted me to give you this at some appropriate time. I think now’s the time.” She handed him a small box.

He took the lid off the box, moved some cloth wrapping away and gazed at a shining and polished gold medallion measuring about ten centimeters across and half a centimeter thick. Perfectly circular, the engraved words, “honor, courage, leadership, scholarship, service,” surrounded the perimeter of an intricate rendition of a landscape with the three Sirius stars in the sky. Keldahl inscribed it in English language.

Cramer bent his head. “I’m not worthy of these words. It’s amazing these same words were on a bronze medallion many years ago that was given to a high school boy and high school girl by the American Legion.”

“Rather than write it down he wanted me to express to you what you left for him and his people. He was impressed with your sacrifice and unselfishness. You displayed courage and honor, as the medallion says. Your dedication, he said, rubbed off on his people and served as an example to them.”

“I never realized I did all that by merely trying to stay alive,” he said.

“You put others’ needs above your own.”

“You deserve one too, so let’s share it, and you take care of it.” He folded the cloth back in place, returned the lid, and handed the box to her.

“Take care of yourself. It might be best if you placed yourself into deep sleep. Being by yourself here for almost a year is liable to drive you mad.”

“I’ll think about it. There is something I want to clear up with you. No, I’m not asking you to talk to me as you said you would. I promised not to push you. I just wanted you to know that…well…my feelings for you go more than skin deep. I think I’ve said that before. I’ve made no secret about having a physical attraction to you, but it’s not just, well, you know…physical. If it were, then I’d be no different from those restaurant pigs on Iapetus.”

“I’d never call you a pig, Joe.” Mona smiled, then her face turned sad, and she continued, “Somebody will be back for you as soon as possible.”

“I hope it’s you. Would you do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Give me a hug before you go. I’m only asking for a small one.” He held his breath.

She didn’t hesitate and stepped forward then put her arms around him. He responded the same, but pressed no harder than she did. The embrace lasted too short, but he released her when she moved her arms away. He put both hands to his face over his eyes, his breath caught, and he turned away to hide the tears.

“I hate leaving you here.”

“Be careful. Sanchez is apparently out to get all of us,” Cramer said.

“He’ll have his hands full, and it won’t matter how many men he has.” She stepped to the airlock, brushed a lock of hair to the side, looked back and smiled before stepping from view.

He watched the sleek ship on the monitor. A blue glow, no doubt the Ganzer Field, a burst of hydrogen flame, and in a split second the ship vanished, its drive engine blasting them to an incredible speed. He stared a long time at the empty space and immediately an overwhelming loneliness set in.

He thought of Cindy and how short of time he spent with her. Her healthiness finally put something upbeat in his life. An older Floyd didn’t seem to be slowing down.

Cramer counted himself fortunate to have a solid, consistent friend who enjoyed the space mining missions as much as he did. A healed Witherspoon made the long and treacherous journey worthwhile. Cramer somewhat envied his physical build, but decided he might not look right with all those muscles, narrow waist, bass voice, and square jaw. Lila, he hoped, could be saved, brought back to life, memories intact. She cared for him.

His mind went to Mona. His feelings grew exponentially for her despite their age difference. Back when he first met her he was fifty-two, she, thirty-five. Since the star ship voyage their present ages thoroughly stumped him. Time dilation tended to do that. He could be about sixty and her almost forty. He walked over to her deep sleep chamber with its open canopy. He could picture her lying there looking up at him. He saw some stray blonde hairs on the molded bed up near where her head rested. He picked them up and drew them between his fingers.

How would he pass the time floating in the nothingness above the ecliptic plane, space devoid of matter? Not even comets orbited at this steep angle. He considered Mona’s suggestion about deep sleep. The program could be set to wake him either when somebody arrived, a large body was detected, or at a specific time.

Before climbing into his chamber, he tested the program, going through each part of it line for line to make sure of its integrity. He ran several simulations where he plugged in a specific time and found it free of bugs. He inserted a make-believe ship detection, and it worked with that then he also fabricated an asteroid and that worked too.

Satisfied with its function, he activated the chamber and climbed in. He didn’t really want to predict when someone would come to get him, so he set the chamber to wake him in a year. If somebody came in the minimum ten months, they could manually override the program and bring him to. Cramer elected to activate the program’s unused loop that fed time elapsed in deep sleep to the occupant of the chamber.

As the drug entered his body and dispelled the cold, he missed seeing Mona watching him go under. He resisted the cryo state as he always had done, fighting it as long as possible. He never accepted it like Witherspoon and Mona. With acceptance did not come less apprehension about entering cryo sleep, a condition Cramer never enjoyed—nor did he intend to. Cryo sleep screwed up one’s perception of one’s own age and cheated everyone else who remained in the real world.

A floating, nebulous perception of real time in sleep, courtesy of his selecting that option, infringed on the outer reaches of his mind. The rapid passage of time resembled the days of each month flipping by as if a wind blew the pages of a day by day flip calendar. The one-year mark approached, and he hoped Mona and Cindy would be knocking on the door.

A year passed by, and the chamber didn’t go into waking mode. Fifteen months came and went and still the chamber kept him in cryo sleep. He panicked in slow motion. Nobody came to get him, and he prepared himself for that possibility. The process didn’t allow overriding the circuits with your mind. Something held up a return trip for his rescue. He supposed Sanchez held that honor.

Cryo sleep designers estimated the process could damage the organs if the person remained under around two and a fraction years. As two years approached, Cramer vowed he would never submit himself to this infernal process again, even if it meant staring at four walls for months on end. Just somebody get me out so I can make the choice of thumbs down on cryo sleep.

When two years passed, he now knew how a person buried alive must feel. The part of the program that fed him elapsed time must be the glitch. Nobody chose that option before, since Lila or one other crew member remained awake during their trip to Sirius and back. At two years and three months, he felt the waking cycle kick in. Whether the chamber routine corrected itself or someone brought him out, he didn’t know. He hoped for visitors.

The waking process didn’t go well. Every organ in his body ached as feeling returned to cold hands and feet. The prickly pin points of pain persisted as he stared at his chamber’s frosted over canopy. A hand began swiping away the thin coating of frost. A face appeared, one he didn’t expect to see—Stark, Witherspoon’s cruiser pilot. The dome popped open, and the muscle-bound, strong and firm arm pulled him up and out of the chamber.

Stark’s square jaw was wrinkled, and he was gray at the temples. Age had caught up with him since Cramer saw him last. Another man whom he didn’t recognize stood nearby. His disheveled gray hair reminded him of a genius of yesteryear. Albert Einstein. Small, rimmed glasses sat on his nose, and a white lab coat hung open, revealing a slightly overweight man perhaps in his early seventies. He helped Cramer to a chair, carefully easing him into it.

“I’m Dr. Ganzer, and I believe you know Mr. Stark.”

“I feel horrible all over, like all my organs are suffering from stomach flu.”

“I can give you something for the pain.”

“No drugs. I’ll tough it out,” Cramer responded quickly.

“It’s a good thing we got here when we did. Any longer and your whole body would have shut down. Must have been the sub routine you used for viewing elapsed time,” Ganzer said.

“You are an unlikely pair to be rescuing me. What’s going on?”

“It’s Sanchez. We’ll explain on the way back,” Stark said.

There seemed to be something urgent about Stark and Ganzer. Cramer didn’t object about getting out of there either. He collected his few belongings and followed Stark and Ganzer through the interlock.

He stepped into Ganzer’s new ship. What a fascinating vessel. Banks of controls and pilot consoles economically designed and placed used every square centimeter of space in the fairly compact ship. That arrangement didn’t make the ship appear small at all. The smell of the ship reminded him of the odor from a new air car he’d purchased years ago.

Stark’s pilot station, lit with its myriad colored bulbs, screens and readouts starved for his attention. Ganzer motioned for Cramer to sit in a chair close to his own. Ganzer looked at his console, familiar with the status readers there. He activated a few prominent switches, checked various screens and readouts, then gave a hand signal to Stark who threw home a large lever in the middle of his station, and Cramer heard the hydrogen drive engine ignite, giving an audible blow torch sound. He noticed a slight lurch then saw both men relax.

“How long will it take us to get back,” he asked.

“A little over two months,” Ganzer answered.

“Incredible!”

“One half the speed of light. An improvement over the last ship,” Ganzer said.

“What about Mona and my daughter, Cindy?”

“Mr. Stark has the details on that, and it’s not good.”

“Sanchez is holding your daughter and Miss Watson prisoner. He has them on Icarus where Mr. Witherspoon’s gold is. The place is impenetrable, and we think he has a lot of guards. He wants you to come alone if you want Cindy and Mona back alive,” Stark said.

“What does he have against me?”

“I don’t know, but you need the details of his station on Icarus. Mr. Witherspoon and Floyd Baxter can supply you with much of the layout. I can tell you what to expect from Sanchez. I worked with him on several occasions.” Stark’s jaw, just as square as ever, hovered just above what appeared to be added muscle on top of muscle since Cramer last saw him.

“I’m not a fighter. I wish I could take you with me to go up against Sanchez and all his men.”

Cramer sensed he detected a break in Stark’s stern expression, perhaps a hint of appreciation for the compliment of his fighting ability.

“I have a few ideas—and so does your friend Baxter—on how you can take a few persons with you without Sanchez knowing it,” Ganzer said.

“That will have to be foolproof. I don’t want to jeopardize Cindy and Mona’s life.”

“Of course, such a plan would have your final approval.”

The trip to old Sol took two months and ten days. During that time Dr. Ganzer explained his new field that allowed protection from the effects of acceleration and how the new engine worked. Cramer followed almost all of it, but being in the presence of a genius humbled him. Yet, Dr. Ganzer didn’t have a haughty attitude or one fragment of arrogance about him. He gladly answered Cramer’s questions which probably seemed very basic. He spoke of Lila as Cramer inquired about her in detail. Her extensive knowledge remained intact, but she retained no memory of people and events during her “previous” existence. Ganzer explained the difference between memories of people and events versus technical knowledge. He placed the knowledge there before her activation, whereas the people and events came through her experiences. That meant her memory of various happenings left her first when her nuclear power source weakened.

Stark detailed the workings of Sanchez’s mind. A ruthless man, he didn’t consider a human life worth anything if it could be forfeited for his own gain. Cramer could identify. Sanchez plunged headlong into situations with no concern for principles. Fair play didn’t exist for him. Stark described one incident after another that reinforced these assessments of Sanchez. He resembled certain animals that seemed docile and congenial one minute then would turn on you with the viciousness of a tiger or water buffalo the next. Profilers described his character as unpredictable, treacherous, and deadly, but Stark considered those terms inadequate for the man.

Cramer remembered his brief encounter with Sanchez on Europa. He wondered even more why Sanchez wanted him. Even if he walked into a cave on Icarus to give himself to Sanchez, he couldn’t be trusted to turn Cindy and Mona loose.

The two months’ trip didn’t provide enough time for Cramer to formulate a plan. He’d never landed on Icarus and remembered how he and Floyd were almost killed when trying to mine the asteroid. The tiny asteroid swept inside the orbit of Mercury in its one and one-tenth year trip around the sun. Floyd and Witherspoon would have to fill in details of the interior of the asteroid and the storage structure there.

Cramer enjoyed the beautiful sight of Mars. Stark and Dr. Ganzer brought the ship out of its fast travel mode a million miles out from the red planet. They approached high orbit, allowing Cramer to view the orb in its entire red splendor. He could see Olympus Mons peeking above a light cloud cover. He wondered if Branson still worked behind his fancy desk issuing orders with a surprise twist as he did from his office on Iapetus a long time ago.

Initially, Cramer felt anger at Branson’s surprise assistant for the Saturn mining mission, but now he hoped to see Branson again sometime to thank him profusely for hooking him up with Mona on that occasion. Funny how a bad start up on that mining venture turned out well in the long run.

Stark brought the ship down to the town of Edge, which sat at the southern boundary of the North Polar Cap. From there they took an ice skimmer to Dr. Ganzer’s sprawling laboratory near Mars’s North Pole, where they would meet with Floyd and Witherspoon. The ice skimmer, equipped with an undulating repulsion drive, took all the bumps out of the ride across the stacked poker chip surface of the ice fields. Like much of the Martian scenery, Cramer admired the nearby ice cliffs with their frozen fingers reaching from peaks toward the ice fields below, those appendages never reaching them. Stark negotiated the icy landscape, brought them to the laboratory, and parked beside two other skimmers.

Ganzer took Cramer on a tour of the laboratory, showing him a number of projects in various stages of completion. He could only identify fragments of some of the apparatuses. After the tour and heading back down a corridor toward a meeting room, he drew in a sharp breath when Lila stepped from a side room. Ganzer did an expert job in repairing her body to the point where she looked like new.