13

ACROSS THE DARK

The Mercury transports weren’t ready to go until the spring term ended, which gave Rosalie a chance to finish but meant more delay for the miners; fortunately, there had been no life-threatening quakes during the wait.

A group of us, mostly student volunteers, gathered at the North Polar Dock on the first Sunday in April. Bernie wanted me to travel with the students, even though officially I was with him and entitled to share more private quarters. We took only small toilet kits; everything else would be provided on the job, they said.

I hung in the zero-g waiting area, looking around to see if I knew anyone, wondering why Mom had never replied to the letter I had left in her message memory when I had not been able to reach her. Maybe she wasn’t checking her mail, or assumed I knew what I wanted and didn’t need advice. Her silence bothered me. I felt a bit lost and lonely. It was strange leaving Bernal, after having wanted to come here so much in the first place.

I turned, and Rosalie was at my side. She seemed strange and dreamy, maybe a bit unsure of herself.

“It’s too late now,” I said as we moved to board the shuttle that would take us out to the big ship. She was silent as we floated in through the hatch and found handholds in the main bay. This was just a big empty area some twenty feet across, where passengers or cargo were put for short hops from dock to ship or between habitats. L-5 factory workers used these to commute from the residential habitats, of which Bernal was the largest.

There was a porthole near my handgrip. I felt a gentle push and watched Bernal move away. It covered the whole view, but then the shuttle turned, and I saw the Mercury ship—five hundred feet of silver teardrop shining in the starry black, growing larger as we crept closer.

The H. G. Wells, Number 97 of Earth Authority’s Sunspace Fleet, was bigger than most interplanetary transports. Its pulsed fission-to-fusion nuclear engine was an older design, but still capable of pushing the vessel to velocities of well over 150,000 meters per second. That meant that the solar system from Mercury to Jupiter could be crossed in a hundred days. Mercury, Venus, Mars, never took longer than thirty days, depending on where they were in their orbits relative to Earth. Since Merk was still going to be this side of the sun during our travel time, our trip would take about ten days. Paths taken by this kind of ship were nearly straight lines that cut across the gravitational fields of the planets; its capacity for continuous boost put the ship outside the slowing effects of the solar system’s usual dynamics.

The teardrop covered the whole sky as we drifted into the forward lock. Air hissed as the hatches opened. Ro and I and the others pulled out, passing into the large vessel.

The Wells had twenty-five decks, each facing forward, so that during acceleration there would be from a half to one g for passengers; not real gravity, but a steady boost pushing us down on the decks.

We pulled aft through the core passage.

“University volunteers, deck four,” a woman’s voice instructed over the com.

I tugged on the rail and coasted into a brightly lit area. The deck itself was ahead of us, looking like a bulkhead wall with a hundred acceleration couches attached to it. Everyone was talking loudly as they hung on the handrails, which shot across the open space. Some of the faces looked familiar, but there was no one I knew. Most of the blue-green coveralls and boots were stiffly new, I noticed, unlike my own work uniform.

Someone jostled me from behind. “Excuse me,” I said, reaching for a bit of the rail. Rosalie was looking a bit uncomfortable for some reason.

“Joe!”

I turned and saw Linda. She was looking at me as if she had never seen me before.

“What is it?” I asked loudly.

She glanced at Ro before answering. “What happened to you? You haven’t been in school.”

“I needed some time off,” I said.

Kik and Jake floated over, looking friendly. I was almost glad to see them.

“So we’re all going,” Jake said, sounding as if he approved.

Linda was watching me carefully. Kik was smiling.

“Let’s settle in,” Ro said.

We all pulled over to the deck-wall.

“These two, Joe,” Ro said, pointing to the end of the fourth row. I floated over until my back was to the couch and strapped in. Rosalie took the end seat, and we brought them up to a sitting position, but it still seemed that I was sitting with my ass on the wall. The feeling started to disappear as the crowd strapped in and I began to see the surface behind me as a deck; after all, who was I to argue with a hundred people who were clearly sitting on it. When everything is upside down, it all looks normal, unless you’re the exception.

“Mind if I sit here?” Jake asked, taking the couch at my left.

“Go ahead,” I said, glancing down the row toward Linda. She and Kik had taken the other end seats.

“She wants to sit with her brother for a while,” Jake explained. “We’ll switch later.”

“Fine with me.” I glanced at Ro. She didn’t seem to care.

“Thanks.” Jake seemed a bit somber.

The com crackled. “Fasten up—we’ll be boosting in five minutes.” The woman’s voice sounded deeper.

Rosalie and I joined hands. Jake cleared his throat and shifted in his straps. I thought about the letters I had sent Morey. My going to Mercury would baffle him. I took a deep breath. We were all becoming different people.

I wished that he had answered the letters I had left in his terminal.

“Why didn’t they just build better living quarters on Mercury itself?” a girl’s voice asked behind me.

“They couldn’t be sure,” a male voice answered, “not with the way the planet was being torn up. Still is.”

“What do you mean?”

“They might have to mine where they build.”

The quakes, I thought, mention the damned quakes.

“Well, you know, people want what other people have. They see holos of Bernal, and it looks like paradise.”

“If you feel like that, then why are you going?” she asked.

Jake grimaced as I looked over at him.

“The Sun’s real big from Merk.”

“Keep your hands to yourself. You’re making fun of me.”

I tuned them out. A deep rumble grew in my guts.

“Here we go,” Jake said.

Acceleration began to press me into the couch. The forward bulkhead started to look like a ceiling. The rumble reached a set pitch and stayed there.

I looked at Ro. She smiled. We were on our way to make a world, almost from scratch, for those who didn’t have one. It was my dream come true, but from another direction. Sure, there would be plenty of big engineers to run the show, but that wouldn’t make it easy. I had learned enough working with Bernie to have some idea of what it would take, and that it would take longer than expected. I had seen too much of what went wrong on Bernal, day to day, to believe that world building and maintenance was all routine.

“You will be able to move around the ship as soon as we reach one g,” the woman’s voice announced.

The ship was moving across the dark toward the Sun—the open-hearth fusion furnace at the center of our solar system, source of radiant and gravitational energy for the planets, dozens of moons, and countless asteroids.

I saw Sunspace as a vast gravitational maelstrom of matter and light energy . . .

“That was probably the captain,” Ro said.

“What do you suppose she’s like?” I asked.

“Arrogant, proud,” Jake answered. “They’re above everything, and they love their ships. It’s necessary that they think that way, to keep on top of their jobs. You would too if you ran billions of horses of raw energy across the sky.”

“But they’re not exactly unique,” I said. “There’s also the national space navies.”

“Earth Authority’s Fleet people hate the military. Toy ships are not economically productive. Of course, the military does test a lot of new technology, but—”

“I wish there were a screen in here,” Ro said.

“What do you want from a refitted cargo ship?” Jake asked. “Notice the smell in here?”

Jake no longer seemed as strange to me as when I had first met him.

“What is it?”

“Probably goats,” he replied, “some cows. They shipped breeding stocks in here, for Mars most likely.”

A green light blinked on over the hatch in what was now the ceiling, according to my feet, signaling that acceleration was now stable. A spiral stair wound down from the deck above.

“Decks one to six for passengers,” the captain said. “Please don’t attempt to visit any others.”

I looked over and saw Linda talking intently to her brother.

* * *

The lounge and recreation deck, two down, was another large drum-shaped chamber, mostly empty except for storage closets around the edge. A few of the kids were already taking out games, readers, and folding tables when Ro and I arrived.

“There’s a screen,” Ro said, pointing to the large oval plate bolted to the floor between two closets; a long cable snaked out from under it and disappeared into a utility conduit in the wall. We went over and turned it on.

The L-5 sector was a black nest filled with diamonds, emeralds, and rubies. I could see over a hundred objects—factories, research spheres, construction shacks, ship-frame docks, and solar generating plants.

I felt dizzy. The press of steady acceleration gave a sense of weight that seemed different from Bernal’s spin force—no coriolis, for one thing—and I imagined that my inner ear had somehow noticed and was adjusting.

Rosalie pulled over two airbags, and we sat down. As the deck filled up with people, I gazed at the screen, wondering when we would return to L-5.

“You okay?” Ro asked.

“It’s passing.”

I felt a bit cynical as I looked around. Sure, many of the people on board probably cared about what they were going to do, but others were going for the money, to help their work records, or to get away from various personal problems, or because recruiters had talked them into it. I wondered how certain I could be of my own motives.

Yellow-white sunlight flooded the room with an electric glare, giving us all black shadows.

“Turn down that screen!” someone shouted.

Jake approached the screen and cast a winged creature with his hands, making the shadow flap around, but I was suddenly in no mood to enjoy it. This was a bigger step than coming to Bernal. Some of my old doubts seemed to be stirring, and again I felt like a stranger to myself.

* * *

Pieces of my face broke free and floated away. I tried desperately to catch them, but there were too many . . .

The dream pressed in tightly. I heard a whisper.

“Joe!” It was Rosalie.

I opened my eyes and sat up, listening to the ship’s distant growl.

“Go back to sleep,” I said.

“Shut up, Sorby,” a male voice said behind me.

I lay back and dozed, feeling shut in. I would be locked up with these people for two weeks, and then I would have to work with them on Mercury for at least a year—in the space around Mercury, to be accurate.

I turned my head and saw Rosalie looking at me, and it seemed wondrous that she could know how I felt about anything. I touched her cheek, realizing that I loved her without a doubt, and that I would have come with her even if there had been no other good reason.

* * *

I was falling, my stomach told me suddenly.

Then I bumped my head.

People were laughing and talking loudly.

I opened my eyes. The ceiling was only a few inches in front of me. I pushed away and turned to see the whole chamber filled with floaters. Rosalie drifted below me.

I grasped a rail and pulled myself to her.

“They shut the drive down for minor repair,” she said.

“Who undid my strap?”

“You were floating when I woke up.”

I looked around, trying to catch the prankster’s eye.

“Strap in,” the captain ordered. “Boost will resume in three minutes.”

Ro and I pulled ourselves into our couches and fastened up. I yawned. She smiled at me. We waited.

I felt the soft vibration in my stomach. It seemed slightly different, less of a growl, smoother. Weight crept into my body.

When the green light went on, I unstrapped and stood up, hoping to make the toilet before the line got too long.

“Feel better today?” Ro asked, stretching appealingly.

“I’ll be okay.”

The toilets were just off the main chamber. I walked over and stood on line behind some ten people.

“How’s it going, pal?” Jake asked from behind me.

“Fine,” I said.

Jake looked sulky.

“What is it?” I asked.

He shook his head. “This ship is not in the best shape. Even the captain sounds nervous.”

“Do you think it’s dangerous?”

“Who knows?” he said softly. “Junk heaps have been known to hold together. We’ll only know if it doesn’t.”

My turn came. I went inside and brushed my teeth, then stripped and took a shower while my clothes were cleaned.

“Hey, kid!” Jake called from the next stall. “Imagine we lose our g force now. Hah, hah!”

“Hurry up in there!” someone shouted.

Breakfast was served three decks down. The floor was white. We sat ten-a-table. A large wall screen showed the stars, Earth/Moon, and a small sliver of the Sun. I had eggs, oatmeal, juice, and coffee. Rosalie sat across from me, but we didn’t feel much like talking. Not enough privacy.

I thought of Dad as I ate. Old problems, drawing farther away. New problems drive out old ones, whether you’ve solved them or not; that was the only way it was ever going to be . . .

I noticed Linda and Kik. They were not aware of anyone as they talked.

* * *

Rosalie and I began to feel more at ease in the group. We didn’t care who was listening after a few days. We were all on the ship together, and that was all there was to it. People grow less impressed with each other through familiarity, even if you’re very special. Some people will say anything in front of you after a while.

“You’d be good-looking if your ears weren’t so big,” I heard a girl say, and she was not joking; it was true, I saw, when I looked at the boy.

Dinner on the third day was some kind of beefy stuff with leafy greens in a gooey sauce. It was a shock after the better meals. The cook apologized, promising that if we ate this batch it would not happen again; it sounded like blackmail.

The air smelled of the stuff that night, making it hard to sleep. Most of us woke up looking glum, wondering if this shabbiness was a sign of worse things to come.

We got used to the routine: three meals, sitting around in the rec area staring out into space; exercising in the gym; reading; watching broadcasts from Earth. A few couples managed to steal some privacy in the showers from time to time.

Earth was very proud of itself. From the broadcasts, you could almost feel like thanking it for creating such a bad situation on Merk, just so Earth Authority could do something noble about it.

“What a load of slag!”

I turned and saw a short, stocky guy with white hair and pale complexion—the kid with the big ears—sitting with Kik. Everyone in the rec room looked bored.

“Don’t knock slag shielding,” said a tall, thin girl with closely cropped red hair. “It keeps you from growing funny critters on your skin when the Sun smiles at you,” she added with obvious perversity. I wondered if she meant that Earth had to shield itself from the pain of truth, or was simply babbling.

“Did you ever notice,” the white-haired boy continued, “how people care for their health, clothes, underwear, but not for what’s in their heads? Probably the dumbest species in the universe.”

“We’ve still got you,” the girl said.

There was some feeble laughter. I wondered what it would be like to see myself from outside. Would I like myself? Would I think that I would ever be anything? Maybe I was the villain in someone else’s story? Who was the hero? Maybe there are no heroes or villains, and we’re all stuck somewhere between beast and angel.

Things could be dumber and harder than I thought—too hard for the kind of human being I knew. Life was simple and complicated at different times, even at the same time.

What are you anyway? You look into your eyes and imagine the grayness in your skull, and you feel alien. You might easily not have existed, but here you are, gazing out of soft gray matter with watery eyes, examining yourself and the stars, wondering at the darkness, which would be complete if there were no eyes . . .

I got up, deciding to visit Bernie on the engineers’ deck.