McCollum - GIBRALTAR STARS (27 page)

He brushed his glove across the screen again. It changed in several incomprehensible ways. However, he discovered that by touching the stud, he could turn the image off. Touching it again restored the original image.

Brushing his glove against the dot at the other end of the curved line caused a different star system to appear. He recognized this one as well. It was the star immediately duskward from his own. Astronomers had long ago mapped it from afar. Neither Xxantonil nor any of his race had ever visited it. The furry monsters claimed the system uninhabited and not worth positioning one of their jumping devices there.

Turning off the image and then restarting gave him access to the original image. Xxantonil noticed a very small symbol near to the anti-dorsal end of the line. He brushed his glove against it and was not surprised to see it expand. Instead of a star system diagram, the expanded symbol showed the small ovoid with a dual list of parameters in the fuzzy monster dot-and-swirl symbology.

The implication was clear. The functionality of the display indicated that he was looking at a map. And not just any map. It seemed to be a map showing that this small ovoid had traveled here from the nearest star!

It took a moment for the implication to penetrate his consciousness. When it did, Xxantonil carefully retreated from the cramped control room. He paused in the hatchway to retrieve his piton. Once outside, he brushed against the control with the red light. The red light dimmed and the black transparency once again began radiating invisible photons.

He was in a contemplative mood when he reentered his own ship. The Elders of the Hive must be told of his discovery and they must be told alone.

For the first time in the ten million years of recorded history, the opportunity to seek metals in other star systems had presented itself.

#

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Lisa Rykand sat in the transit hall of the Brinks Base spaceport and glanced nervously at the wall screen that announced arrivals and departures. She was impressed by the number of ships listed there, but had eyes for only one:
Syracuse
, ten days out of Nemesis. The status board said that its landing boat had decoupled and was even now falling toward Sutton’s dusty, airless plain. If it was on schedule, it was now in darkness on the back side of the moon, with a brilliantly-lit Brinks overhead.

It was surprising how much things can change without one noticing
, she thought as she waited. People busy living their lives are largely oblivious to the march of progress. It is only when one has been away from a place for awhile that the rate of change becomes apparent.

Having time to ruminate, she gazed around and noticed all the improvements that had been made in the ten months since her return from that glorious week with her husband on Nemesis. Thinking back, it was hard to believe this was the same desolate moon they’d found during the first expedition. Sitting here, listening to the quiet announcements, she could well have been sitting in the departure lounge of any mid-sized airport on Earth.

Brinks Base now had gates and boarding areas, a serve-yourself refreshment bar, and screens to entertain and inform. Even the bare rock walls were plastered over to hide the scars of cutting lasers. In fact, most of the base tunnels and galleries were now finished to a smooth texture. That innovation came when a chemist asked an obvious question: Since Sutton dust adheres to just about everything else, will it also stick to walls if mixed with water, a few additives, and colorant?

Brinks Base was fast becoming a major stopping-off point. The wall screen showed the position of each of the three dozen ships in orbit, while a second display noted twelve other craft in transit beyond Brinks’ local traffic zone.

Nor were the ships in orbit the only indication of the sudden boom that followed the establishment of Grand Central Terminus. The last six months had brought a steady influx of personnel to the point that the base was actually becoming crowded!

It was the increasing population that had the most impact on Lisa’s daily life. Up until a week ago, she had lived with a roommate because of the housing crunch. The commissary had undergone expansion twice. Even so, it was becoming difficult to find a place to sit during the breakfast rush. Lately, she had popped her bagel and coffee into a keepwarm and ate breakfast at her desk.

At the end of the work day, when she left the project offices to make her way through tunnels lit by blue lamps, she encountered couples en route to their quarters. It was in those moments she felt most lonely.

Hard work is said to make the time pass quickly. The past month, since the Admiral told her that Mark was being recalled, had been interminable. Ever since that glorious day, each successive 24-hour period seemed to pass a little more slowly. Lisa imagined she had fallen into a black hole and the increasing gravity was causing time to slow.

She feared the effect might be asymptotic, that time would slow until it stopped in the instant before Mark stepped out of the debarkation tunnel. Yesterday had been the longest day of her life and already, the ninety minutes she’d spent waiting seemed more like ninety months.

As she checked the wall-mounted countdown display, she was surprised to see it tick down toward zero. From out of the overhead speaker, a computer-generated voice said, “
Ship’s boat, Freighter
Syracuse
, now arriving, Airlock Three.”

She climbed to her feet to join the small throng gathered to greet passengers. The crowd was the giveaway that she wasn’t in a regional airport. There were no children present, no small figures running restlessly up and down between benches making aircraft noises while their mothers attempted to quiet them.

It had not always been so. There were plenty of children on Sutton when they relieved the rear guard left over from the first expedition. Those hardy souls manned the base through four long, lonely years. During their sojourn, they saw no reason why they should not begin families.

Lisa remembered vividly the party that followed the change of command ceremony. Attendees divided naturally between married and unmarried, with Mark and her joining the former group. She had spent most of that night bouncing a beautiful baby girl on her knee.

The imperative regarding children had changed. Brinks Base was now one of the two assembly points for a fleet at war and the Navy actively discouraged fertility. Most couples agreed. To risk one’s own life in the service of your planet was laudatory. To expose a baby or toddler to a Broan counterattack was not.

Sometimes, when she lay in bed late at night, she worried the war was going to deprive her of the joy of childbearing. The thought would have surprised her younger self, the Lisa who had chosen a life in academe. But like many women of a certain age, she found herself more and more drawn to motherhood.

Her reverie was broken by the sound of a quiet gong, the traditional warning that an airlock door was about to swing open. As it did, it revealed a gaggle of arriving passengers. Mark was fourth in line, and from the moment she caught sight of him, all conscious thought vanished. It took all of her discipline to shuffle forward at the speed Sutton gravity would allow, rather than fly into his arms at a speed that would send both of them head over heels.

Then, time did indeed halt.

Their kiss consumed an eternity and after too many lonely months, her long nights alone were at an end. Her husband was home and all was right with the universe… for awhile.

“God, it’s good to hold you again,” Mark said after they broke the kiss to resume breathing. They held one another tight while officers and ratings of all ranks hid smiles as they pushed around the entwined couple who were now a hazard to navigation.

“Likewise,” she breathed rather than said.

“Have you lost weight?” he asked, moving his hands to probe at strategic areas.

“Not where it counts,” she replied, squirming.

One of the problems with living in reduced gravity was getting sufficient exercise. Lisa spent four hours each week working out in the base gymnasium. It would have been nice to have a centrifuge, but there were still luxuries beyond the shipping capacity of a fleet 7000 light-years from home.

“More importantly,” he said. “Who did you have to sleep with to get me sprung from Nordic hell? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

“I had nothing to do with it, love; although I would have if it would have helped. The Admiral thought the whole idea up himself.”

“Has the pressure of the job finally gotten to him?”

“No, something big is coming up. Alien Intentions back on Earth has had a brainstorm and both of us are going to be part of it.”

“What is this magic lamp the genie is supposed to pop out of?”

“All I know is that I’m to wrap up my duties as Head of Translators and prepare to ship out as soon as you report for duty.”

“Hmmm,” he said, releasing her and scanning for his kit bag, from which he’d become separated. “My orders are to report at my earliest convenience.”

She laughed. “Your
earliest
convenience is no sooner than tomorrow morning, my love; and possibly not then if I’m not completely satisfied.”

He retrieved the bag and slipped an arm around her waist. “Sounds like a plan. Lead on, wench!”

#

The Admiral’s conference did not take place for three days. Mark and Lisa used the time to become reacquainted, demonstrating a principle that had been an open secret in the cruise industry for three centuries. You can count the number of honeymooners onboard a cruise ship by counting the empty seats at the evening meal.

On the third day, they rose early, slipped into their best shipsuits, and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast in a surprisingly (to Mark) crowded commissary.

“Where did all of these people come from?” he asked, looking around him.

“Through Grand Central Terminus,” she replied. “The drilling machines are working round-the-clock to cut tunnels for living quarters for all of them. The laser crews are still breaking down their equipment when the sealing crews arrive to start applying their gunk.”

He nodded. “Same at Nemesis. We have twenty crews erecting buildings and warehouses. The landing boats are grounding at the spaceport hourly, and cargo ships are queued up overhead waiting for a loading cradle to clear. It makes one wonder if there are any starships left at Sol.”

“The base has lost some of its quiet charm, don’t you think?” his wife asked, snuggling up next to him. As was their custom, they were sitting together on one side of a secluded booth.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Sleeping in a bed is much nicer than sleeping on a pile of tank insulation.”

They enjoyed each other’s company for ten more minutes until it was time to go. Sliding from the booth, they walked out of the commissary arm-in-arm and turned left. The conference room was in a new tunnel, one that had only been completed the previous week.

When they arrived a few minutes before 09:00, they found a number of people already there. They seemed divided into two groups: obvious scientific types and four stripers with command pips on their shoulders. Most of the former were familiar faces to Lisa. Mark recognized only one, and despite having a (mostly) clean conscience, felt his ears turn red at her approach.

“Hello, Mark!” Susan Ahrendt said as she crossed the room in a gliding gait to greet him. She had a broad smile on her face.

“Hello, Susan,” he said, reaching out to shake hands.

“Lisa.”

“Susan.”

Mark surreptitiously studied his wife’s expression. Something was out of place here. The relaxed demeanor of both women bespoke something more than mere acquaintance… possibly even friendship.

Whether his wife sensed his sudden interest, or just happened to answer his question, he wasn’t sure. However, she turned to him and said, “Susan and I are old friends, Mark. Drinking buddies. She was the one who convinced me to take the time off to come see you. Remember?”

“How could I forget?”

Susan nodded. “Yes, Lisa and I get together every time my ship is in orbit. It’s nice to have someone to confide in.” There was something in the way she said it that convinced Mark he was a frequent object of their conversation.

While they chatted and Mark squirmed inwardly, a balding man walked over to them. Susan turned to include him.

 “Mark, I don’t believe you’ve met my boss, Dr. Smithers.”

“Hello,” Mark said, shaking hands.

“Hello, Commander. I understand you will be on the dispersal ship with us.”

Mark raised an eyebrow in a questioning look. “Oh? Then you know more than I do. I take it you have been briefed on the mission?”

 “Of course, haven’t you?”

“The Admiral has yet to confide in me.”

“Then perhaps I should not speak and spoil his surprise,” the scientist said, giving as good an impression of a puffed-up rooster as Mark had seen.

“Yes, Admirals do like their little surprises,” Mark agreed, glancing at Lisa. He thought her return look was a little too earnest for her silent protestation of innocence to be genuine. He decided not to make an issue of it. The secret would not be a secret much longer.

In fact, he had to wait less than two minutes. At 09:00 hours exactly, a Marine opened the metal door to the corridor and Admiral Dan Landon entered.

The Admiral took his place at the long iron table in the front of the room and waited while some twenty participants found their name tags at ten tables arrayed classroom-style facing him. There followed twenty seconds of scraping noises as everyone sat in their assigned places, two to a table. Mark and Lisa sat at a table directly in front of Landon, with Susan Ahrendt and Smithers to their right, and a pair of silver-haired captains to their left. Mark took the time to study Dan Landon, whom he hadn’t seen in more than a year. He thought the Admiral looked older, then realized that his own hair had some gray in it that hadn’t been there when he shipped out to Nemesis.

 “Good morning, Ladies and Gentlemen,” Landon boomed when everyone was seated. “Long time, no see, Mark. Where have you been keeping yourself?”