Stories (2011) (84 page)

He looked at the cameras on the street, and they looked at
him. He stepped into the alcove and turned so that he was in the little nook
and cranny. He stood there for a while, and then he sat down in the space, and
knew for the first time in a long time, no camera could see him. The camera knew
he had gone there, but it couldn’t see him, and that gave him a great moment of
peace, and soon he found he didn’t want to leave, and he watched as the
sunlight changed and moved and people walked by, not noticing. He couldn’t see
them, but he could hear them and he could see their shadows. He picked his nose
and flicked the boogers, and took deep breaths and enjoyed the coolness of the
stone on his back.

Come nightfall he was still there, and he felt content. He
was hungry, but still he didn’t leave. He sat there and enjoyed it. When the
lights of the city came on, he still sat there, and wouldn’t move, and finally
two police officers came. They had seen the cameras, the film, and they had
seen where he had gone and that he had not come out. They arrested him and took
him downtown and put him in the jail where the cameras worked night and day
from every angle in the cell, and when they put him there, he began to scream,
and he screamed all night, and into the morning, when they finally came for him
and gave him a sedative and put him in a ward with others who had tried to hide
from the cameras. The shots they gave him made him sleep, and in his sleep the
cameras whirled and twisted on cables throughout the place and took his image
and shot it across wireless space and tucked it away on little cells smaller
than atoms.

In the next week, the old building was torn down and a new
one was put up and the cameras were installed.

Everything worked nicely. No one could hide from the
cameras. Everyone’s mail was read before they read it, and their phone calls
were monitored, and to be safe they made sure no one had the chance to use
lawyers or complain, and the world was nice and easy and oh so safe, now that
there was nothing left to fear.

I was dreaming about our new home-to-be on Nine World.
Trying to imagine just how fast our spaceship was traveling, and how long it
would be before we got there, when Dad woke me.

"Son," he whispered, "we've got a
problem."

I sat up in my bunk and rubbed my eyes. "Problem?"
I asked. "What kind of problem?"

"Son, I want you to listen real close. I wouldn't ask
this of you if it wasn't absolutely necessary, or if I thought you couldn't do
it."

I eased my legs out over the edge of my bunk and let my feet
dangle.

Something in Dad's voice frightened me a little.

"The ship has lost entry power," he said.

"Entry power?"

"That's right. Remember what I told you about this
trip?"

"About how we would travel faster than light speed till
we hit the Seashell Galaxy?"

"That's right, David. And if you remember, I told you
that we would have to cut below light speed upon entering the galaxy so as not
to overshoot our destination. We would then proceed to Nine World at a normal
cruise speed. Remember?"

"I remember, Dad. We're supposed to orbit Nine World
till we get the radio go ahead to break into the gravitational field and
land."

"That's right. That's the problem."

"The radio is out?"

"That and one other thing. Something more important.
We've lost power to enter into the gravitational field. The main computer
controlling entry jets has malfunctioned."

I tried not to gulp. "You mean we're lost in
space?"

"Not quite. We know exactly where we are, but we can't
land or even contact Nine Base and tell them the problem. Right now we're
orbiting.

And without main power, we'll continue to orbit. Do you
understand?"

"Yes, Dad. But what can I do?"

"That's what I'm coming to, Son. When we switched from
faster-than-light speed to normal cruise speed, an error in the computer led us
into a minor collision with a meteor."

"I didn't feel anything."

Dad shook his head. "Neither did I. It didn't make that
great an impact, but it did cause some serious damage. "

"The loss of entry power and radio
communications?" I asked.

"Exactly. You're old enough that I don't have to
sugarcoat the truth. Right now this ship, the lights, the anti-gravitation and
the oxygen supply are working off the auxiliary emergency unit. Auxiliary power
is restricted to the forefront of this ship. The passenger and the crew section.
It's not enough to bring us into port. It will roughly supply twenty-four hours
of power. After that…"

"It's quits?"

"Correct. That's where you come in. "

"But what can I do, Dad?"

"Get dressed, quick, and come with me. I'll let the
captain explain. Be as quiet as you can. Your mother and the kids don't know a
thing about this.

It's best we keep it that way, for now."

I climbed out of my bunk, got dressed, pronto. After that I
went quietly with Dad to the Control Room. It was the first time I'd ever been
inside. It had always been off limits before. The view glass folded around us
to show a wide shield of black space, twinkling stars and a huge, red planet
called Nine World. The world that was to be our home. Maybe.

The captain—a tall, thin man with graying hair—walked over
to me and stuck out his hand. I took it and we shook. I knew it must be
something that depended on me pretty bad. Usually all I got from the captain
was a pat on the head. The captain squatted down so that he was face to face
with me. He put his hands on my shoulders.

"David. Your dad explained the problem?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

"We've thought this thing out backwards and
forwards," the captain said, "and I'll be honest with you. It doesn't
look good. We know you're young, but your dad says that you can do it. Of
course it's up to you."

I tried not to let my voice crack. "What is it you need
me to do?" The suspense was about to do me in.

The captain stood up, and with his hand on my shoulder,
walked me over to the view glass. Looking out into space was like looking down
into a bottomless well sprinkled with glitter. It was beautiful, and
breathtaking. It was frightening too. I felt like the smallest speck of dust in
the universe.

"Look," the captain said and he pointed a finger.
He was gesturing at the very edge of the view glass. I had to lean forward some
to see it. A ship half the size of ours, probably a planetary transport, was
floating along side us.

"Our speed," the captain said, "is matched
with that ship,
The Fortune."

I was confused but I didn't say anything. I knew time was
growing short and that the captain had to be building up to something. Dad came
over to stand with us.

"A year back," the captain continued, "I was
commander aboard that space transport. We had a similar problem, only it was a
malfunction of a different sort, an explosion.

"It might have been the end of us if not for radio
contact with home base.

They sent a rescue ship out to pick us up. We can't do that
now since our radio is out."

I was beginning to see what he meant. "But the radio
onboard
The Fortune
works?"

"It should. It's been some time, but unless something
came along and knocked that out of whack, it should work. It's unlikely
something has."

I didn't say that it was unlikely that a meteor would have
come along and knocked our computer out of whack either, but I thought it.

The captain continued.
"The Fortune's
 explosion,
and this problem of ours, are the only two major accidents that have occurred
since the homesteading of Nine World began."

Dad cut in now. "The problem is, Son, that the main
cargo hatch is jammed shut. The rest were automatically locked when the
explosion occurred, and the Control Room hatch did the same after the crew of
The
Fortune
 made their escape through it."

"It's sort of a safety device," the Captain said.
"When the explosion blew out the back, the upper half locked off to
maintain oxygen and anti-gravitational power. We've already been out there. I
took a lifeline over and tried the door. A laser torch might do the job if we
had one. We don't.

There's just one possibility. When I paced our dying ship
alongside
The
Fortune,
 I never expected to be asking you this.

"You see, that explosion blew a small hole in the
ship's side, and that hole opens into the air-conditioning ducts. They lead to
the central cabin."

I thought I knew what they wanted me to do. "You're
trying to tell me that I'm the only one small enough to get through the hole
and crawl down the air-conditioning tube."

The captain nodded. "That's exactly what we're saying.
We tried. Each and every one of us. We need to get someone through that hole
and into the central cabin. From there he only has to open the door that leads
to the Control Room. The radio should still be operative. I hate to put it to
someone as young as you, David, but you're our only hope."

I looked at Dad. He was nervously opening and closing his
hands. Very slowly he said, "David, can you do it?"

I looked out the view glass, leaned over so I could see
The
Fortune.

Somehow it didn't look so close anymore.

"I can give it a try," I said.

"This suit will be a little big on you," the
captain said as he fastened on my helmet, face plate up. "The bad thing is
we can't communicate with you when you leave the ship. We don't even have
short-range radio power, and because of that we need to go over your
instructions carefully. Can you repeat back?"

I was suddenly very weak and my voice was squeaky.

"I'm to go out the emergency hatch and let my lifeline
drift me out far enough to touch
The Fortune.
 I'm not to drift too far
so I won't be in
The
Fortune's
 path and get hit, or get my
lifeline snapped.

"When I get it in sight, I'm supposed to use the belt
booster to propel me towards the ship. Then once I'm in the hole," I
stuttered over the last part,

"I'm supposed to unclip my lifeline. That should leave
me enough oxygen in my reserve tanks to send the radio message.

"After that I'm to take the lifeline from the storage
compartment of
The
Fortune
 and clip it in the central
compartment, then to myself. Then I go back up and out the air-conditioning
duct. The line should give me enough slack to make it back here."

The captain nodded. "Very good. Now remember: When you
go inside
The Fortune
 and unclip your line, you'll have to use these
magnetized gloves to keep you from floating. Be sure and turn them on the
second you're inside that hole. You got all that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Son," Dad said bending down to look at me.
"I'm proud, very proud, and I know you'll do your best. Remember your
instructions and be careful."

"I will, Dad," I said, and I pushed down the dark
face shield so Dad couldn't see the little tears that were starting to form at
the corners of my eyes.

The first mate came in. "Time in thirty seconds."

"Let's do it," the captain said. He hooked the
lifeline clip to my belt and checked the spindle that would feed me the slack.
He gave me the thumbs-up sign and then Dad did something he'd never done
before. He shook my hand.

They went out of the hatch and left me alone with my
thoughts. I didn't have time for many. The airlock whined tight, the exit hatch
iris-ed open, and all the blackness of space was ready for me.

With only the sound of my breathing apparatus in my ears, I
eased out among the stars and started letting my line adjuster out. I won't kid
you. I was so scared I could hardly get my fingers to work.

The Fortune
 moved toward me like a slow-motion
movie. I let out some more line, and realized suddenly that I was feeding too
slow. I let out more and moved within range, used my belt boosters.

Close up the hole showed jagged edges that wouldn't do my
space suit any good. I got hold of the edges of the opening and pulled myself
to it, slipped a leg inside. I switched on my magnetized gloves, then, very
reluctantly, unsnapped my lifeline.

Looking back I saw it hang like a thread on black water,
drift strangely and move out of reach.

I turned and started down the vent.

It was a tight squeeze but I was making it. I kept inching
my way till I came to the grill that had to lead to the central cabin. There was
no other way. The duct narrowed in front of me to a size that would have been a
close fit for a mouse on a diet.

The grill lifted out easily and I made my way through. The
lack of gravity would have started me tumbling and bouncing off the walls, but
I used my gloves to go across the ceiling and down the wall like a fly. Any
other time, under different circumstances, it might have been fun. Right now I
was all business.

I had a little trouble with the Control Room hatch, but
after a minute of struggling, got it open. The panel in the Control Room was
lifeless. No lights. Nothing. Only the cold blackness of space against the view
glass.

Using my gloves, I eased around the wall and up to the
panel. I found the switch the captain had told me about.

I held my breath and flicked it.

Nothing happened.

I flicked it back and tried again. This time there was a hum
and the lights on the panel lit up like a Christmas tree. I almost cheered. I
flicked on the main transmission switch like the captain had showed me and started
the message I'd memorized.

"Mayday. Mayday. Marooned. Set fix on this signal.
Mayday. Mayday.