Starclimber

“You’ve got some old algae debris here,” Sir Hugh said dismissively. “That’s all.”

  “Very well, then, Sir Hugh, please take your own sample and prepare a slide. I think you’ll find exactly the same thing.”

  “We shall see, Miss de Vries. Now let me undertake a proper investigation.”

  I saw Kate’s eyes narrow to slits and was worried she was going to say something colorful and possibly unladylike, but at that moment the Starclimber gave a shudder.

  “Did you feel that?” Kate asked, eyes wide.

  I nodded, holding my breath, waiting. I heard a dull thud against the hull, and the ship trembled again.

  “What was that?” demanded Sir Hugh.

  “I’m going to find out,” I said, and jetted up toward the bridge.

  ASTRAL FAUNA

  Beyond the glass dome of the bridge, countless space rocks tumbled slowly past the Starclimber, blazing in the sun’s light.

  “Continue dead slow, Mr. Shepherd,” the captain said.

  “We’re in some kind of meteoroid field,” Tobias told me, staring out tensely.

  They were all around us, so thick and numerous that I couldn’t see any end in sight. I winced as another one deflected dully off our hull. If the Starclimber were breeched, how could we go outside to mend her without being struck ourselves?

  “Can she withstand this?” I asked Dr. Turgenev.

  “Small knocks okay,” he said. “And we are lucky so far. Rocks are in same orbit as us. If they had greater velocity, we would be pulverized.”

  I stared nervously up at the astral cable and the fragile-looking spider arms that gripped it. A rock bumped against one of them but deflected off without harm. For half an hour we crawled through the meteoroids, and then half an hour more, and still there seemed no end in sight. My heart beat impatiently.

  “If this keeps up,” I said, “we won’t make it to the counterweight in time.”

  “Cruse is right,” said Shepherd. “Permission to take her ahead one third, captain?” His hand hovered above the throttle.

  “No, Mr. Shepherd. I won’t risk a collision at greater speed.”

  “We’re not leaving ourselves much time, sir.”

  “That’ll be all, Mr. Shepherd.”

  I felt rebuked too, for I’d been the first to worry aloud about our headway. Infuriating as the situation was, the captain was right. We could do nothing but inch along the cable or risk a devastating impact. I was sweating. Every second we lost here was a second less to relaunch the rocket.

  “It’s strange,” said Tobias. “How they’re all the same, I mean.”

  I nodded. “They all look like the one you brought aboard.”

  As I peered out at them, one suddenly exploded. A plume of dust glittered brilliant as ice crystals.

  “What happened there?” Shepherd exclaimed.

  “It just blew up!” I said, staring. But it hadn’t blown up as much as erupted, for the meteoroid was still largely intact, except for a large chunk missing. A second geyser of dust and vapor erupted from it, and shards of rock pattered against the glass dome. Hovering amid the meteoroid debris was something round and pale in the stellar sunlight.

  “What is that?” I said, pointing.

  There was something about its texture that made my skin crawl. It didn’t look like rock; it looked fleshier. Then it abruptly revolved and knocked against the glass dome.

  I gave a shout, for what I beheld now was a severed, upside-down head, about the size of a human’s, and shockingly grotesque.

  It was all jaw, a gaping maw, churning against the glass. It moved about so quickly, I wasn’t even sure if it had eyes, though I caught sight of two long dark slits beneath its lower jaw.

  “Look at its teeth!” exclaimed Tobias.

  The creature was darting about so quickly, battering the glass, it was impossible to get a clear fix on it. But its teeth seemed to be needle thin, and so long they spanned the entire space between its parted jaws.

  Beyond the glass came another explosion, and I saw a second meteoroid fracturing, releasing a silvery sphere near the ship.

  “These aren’t meteoroids,” I said. “They’re eggs.”

  “We’re in the middle of some floating hatchery,” Shepherd said.

  All around us now, these dreadful things were hatching, and a great cluster of them suddenly butted against the dome. I felt the Starclimber shiver.

  “They look almost like viper fish!” Tobias muttered.

  But they didn’t have the bodies of fish at all. There were no scales, no fins or tails.

  I marveled at their strength and persistence. Then I had an idea.

  “Try dousing the running lights!” I said. “And the bridge lights too. Maybe it’s attracting them.”

  “Good thought, Mr. Cruse,” said the captain, and he jetted over to the light switches and flipped them off. The bridge went dark; only the instrument panels emitted a soft glow now. Almost at once, the astral hatchlings turned away from the glass and began jetting off in other directions. I heard them thumping against the lower decks where the cabin lights were still on.

  “That seems to do the trick,” said Captain Walken. “You should go below, Mr. Cruse, and turn off the remaining lights.”

  “Tobias’s space rock,” I said in horror, suddenly remembering. “We’ve got one on board!”

  I was already pushing off for the stairs. Kate was down there.

  “Go with him!” Captain Walken told Tobias.

  “Haven’t been fishing in a while,” Tobias said, sailing after me.

  When we passed through B-Deck, I saw Miss Karr at the windows, taking pictures of the astral creatures hounding the ship.

  “Bit of wildlife for you, Miss Karr,” I said.

  “They move so quickly!” she complained. “I’m not sure I’m getting them properly.”

  “Turn off the lights, please, Miss Karr,” Tobias called out to her.

  Then we were down on C-Deck. Sir Hugh was staring out the porthole from a distance, looking very green. Kate turned and gave me a huge smile.

  “I knew it!” she cried. “I knew there could be life up here! It’s positively teeming!”

  “We’re going to be teeming too,” I said, “unless we get rid of that egg fast.”

  “What egg?” demanded Sir Hugh.

  “The rock is an egg!” I said, pointing.

  “Are you sure?” Kate asked.

  I had to admit, it looked perfectly harmless right now, on its best rocklike behavior. For a moment I wondered if I was mistaken, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

  “I think I’ll clear off until you get this sorted out,” said Sir Hugh, already clanking toward the staircase.

  I took a breath and looked at Tobias. I hadn’t actually had time to think of a plan. All I knew was that I wanted this thing off the ship as fast as possible.

  “Is there anything we can put it in?” I asked Kate.

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” she said, very pleased with herself. “Sir Hugh thought it was pointless, but I brought a rather nice specimen cage.”

  She floated over and pulled it out from beneath one of the workbenches.

  “That’s big enough,” Tobias said.

  “Let’s get it into the cage,” I said, “then into the air lock.”

  “What are you going to do with it?” Kate demanded.

  “Chuck it off the ship,” I said.

  “You can’t just get rid of it!” Kate said, aghast. “It’s an invaluable specimen.”

  “Maybe you haven’t seen its teeth,” I said. I didn’t have time to debate with Kate right now.

  “We’ll need someone inside the air lock,” Tobias said, “to open the outer hatch.”

  “Someone,” I echoed. Neither of us volunteered. Who knew how long before the specimen hatched, or how strong Kate’s cage was. My eyes drifted to the portholes, and to the astral hatchlings battering themselves against the ship.

  On the lab workbench, the space egg
trembled.

  “Hurry!” I said, fumbling with the buckles on the restraining straps. “Get that cage open!”

  The buckles were very fiddly. I wedged my feet into two footholds so I could use both hands. I loosened the first strap, and as I unbuckled the second, the egg cracked. Two big shards floated off. Through the fissure I caught a pale swirl of movement.

  “Get it inside!” Tobias shouted.

  Wincing in revulsion, I seized the egg and moved it toward the open cage. But the egg gave a sudden sharp hiss and flew out of my hands, spewing debris and a horrible smell. It struck the ceiling quite hard, knocking off a few more big shards. I pushed off from the floor, reaching out to grab it.

  “Get the cage up here!” I cried. We were running out of time. The thing was almost out of its shell.

  The moment I reached the ceiling, another blast of noxious gas hit me in the face, along with a big hunk of exploding shell. The force was enough to send me tumbling backward. My eyes stung, and I blinked furiously to clear away the tears. I grabbed a handhold on the ceiling to steady myself. Where was the egg?

  I heard Kate cry out in alarm: “Behind you!”

  I spun to find myself face-to-face with a huge silvery head, a few pieces of shell still clinging to it. Its mouth was closed in a long curving line, like a malicious, tight-lipped smile. Its narrow eyes had no lids. It did not seem to breathe. The thing floated motionless. All over its body were fleshy slits, like wounds that had never healed.

  Perfect little red spheres dotted the air between us, and I realized it was my own blood, pulsing from the wound in my forehead. I was petrified, afraid even to exhale, for fear the thing would attack. Very slowly its mouth parted and stretched wide. I saw the sharp white surfaces of its teeth. A big drop of my blood drifted close to its jaws and was swiftly inhaled. Then, with a terrifying wheeze, the creature sprayed the blood back in my face.

  Below me, Tobias shot up, the open cage held over his head, aimed straight at the hatchling. It must have sensed his approach. One of the fleshy slits on its body dilated and released a jet of reeking gas, and then it shot sideways. Tobias crashed against the ceiling.

  Across the room, the creature collided hard with a porthole and ricocheted backward, straight for me. I gave a bellow and tried to swim out of the way, but it struck me in the shoulder, knocking me against the wall. I punched the thing away from me, but it seemed to have regained its senses. It spewed multiple jets of gas so that it revolved to face me once more. Its jaws were pulled back farther than seemed possible. Its teeth looked like blades.

  “Matt, here!” cried Kate. In her hand she held the air pistol I’d brought back from my space walk. She sent it flying toward me, and I seized it, hoping it still had some puff in it.

  I fired. The recoil sent me slamming against the wall, but also blasted the creature away from me. It collided with the spiral staircase, then shot straight up to B-Deck.

  “Oh, no!” I panted.

  From the lounge I heard a shriek, and wasn’t sure if it was Sir Hugh or Miss Karr. I jetted upstairs, Tobias and Kate right behind me. When I arrived on B-Deck, the hatchling was careening around the lounge. Haiku was sending up a terrible high-pitched squeal. Miss Karr clutched a camera to her face, trying to get pictures. Sir Hugh had removed his magnetic shoes and was thrashing frantically in midair, going nowhere. His academic papers swirled loosely about him. The hatchling streaked toward him and stopped mere inches from his face. Sir Hugh bellowed. The hatchling seemed to bellow back, releasing a jet of stinking gas that sent Sir Hugh spinning head over heels.

  “Drive it toward me, Matt!” shouted Tobias, who had the cage with him.

  I swallowed and flew straight toward the hatchling, air pistol outstretched. But it evaded me easily and shot across the lounge and into the kitchen.

  I heard an explosion of cursing from Chef Vlad, and a great clanging and banging. Then silence.

  “Chef Vlad!” I cried, hurrying toward the kitchen. I feared the worst. But before I reached the door, it swung open and the chef floated out, holding an enormous pot tightly shut against his body. His hair and eyes were wild, but he was smiling.

  “My soup pot is very useful, eh, Mr. Cruse?”

  “Well done, Chef Vlad!” Kate said.

  The pot gave a violent shake and then was still.

  “Let’s get it into the cage,” I said. We arranged ourselves carefully and pushed the opening of the specimen cage snugly against the pot before sliding back the lid. I was expecting the hatchling to come hurtling, but it floated out listlessly into the specimen cage. We closed the door tightly.

  “It looks exhausted,” said Kate, sounding almost sorry for it.

  Chef Vlad peered at it carefully. “I am thinking maybe this could be interesting to cook.”

  “Sorry, Chef Vlad,” I said, picking up the cage, “we’re getting rid of it.”

  “You’re not serious!” Kate cried.

  “Completely serious,” I said.

  “But it’s safely caged.”

  “We can’t risk it, Miss de Vries.” I was getting tired of this argument, and worried that she was making me look weak in front of the others.

  “But this creature is of huge importance!” she insisted.

  “So are the humans aboard ship.”

  “Your forehead’s still bleeding,” Tobias told me, taking down a first-aid kit and sending it my way.

  “Mr. Cruse, I want this specimen!” Kate said, and I felt like she was speaking to a servant.

  “I am an officer aboard this ship,” I told her, my voice raised in anger, “and right now we have more pressing things to think about than your specimens. I won’t discuss it anymore, Kate.”

  She stared at me in mute shock, her cheeks reddening. The expression was not one I’d ever seen on her face before, and I must say I enjoyed it—until I realized I’d just called her Kate in front of everyone. They were all watching us, silent.

  “How dare you speak to me in that way!” Kate said, and I didn’t think she was playacting.

  “But I quite agree with Mr. Cruse,” piped up Sir Hugh. “We should get rid of it immediately.”

  Kate whirled on the zoologist. “So you can say it never existed?”

  “Nonsense,” Sir Hugh said.

  But Kate’s temper was in full force now. “Oh, I know you, Sir Hugh. You’re not really interested in the truth, you’re just interested in being right! If we get rid of this specimen, what proof do I have?”

  “I’ll take some pictures of it right now,” said Miss Karr, looking at me. “If I can just have a moment?”

  I looked at the hatchling and noticed the hiss of its venting gas was more of a high-pitched whistle now. It was still moving, though very sluggishly, nudging against the cage. Its body didn’t seem as round as it had when first hatched. It looked like a ghastly shrunken head I’d seen once in a museum.

  “What’s happening to it?” Tobias asked.

  “It’s in distress,” Kate said.

  It made a few more feeble whistling sounds, and then it was still. Its face was such a mystery to me that it was hard to tell if it was conscious or not. Then, before my eyes, it crumpled, as though an invisible fist were squeezing it.

  “The air pressure,” I said. It seemed so obvious now, I was surprised it hadn’t occurred to me sooner.

  “Yes,” said Kate. “That must be it.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Miss Karr.

  “It’s used to a vacuum,” Kate said. “Zero pressure. But this is fourteen pounds per square inch. I bet that’s why it had so much trouble hatching. Remember the ones outside? They just blasted out of their shells. This one could barely crack it. Our atmosphere crushed it to death. Poor thing. Still,” she added, unable to suppress a smile, “I now have a specimen to bring back.”

  “I’m glad things worked out for you, Miss de Vries,” Miss Karr said.

  “They usually do,” Kate replied.

  I felt quite disgusted by her. I?
??d always known her work was important to her, and that she had a selfish streak, but I hated to think she’d risk endangering the lives of others for the sake of a specimen.

  The ship’s phone rang in my hand. “Cruse here,” I said.

  “Everything all right down there?” the captain asked.

  “We’re fine now, sir.”

  “Well done. We’re clear of the hatchery now.”

  I looked out the windows and saw the last of the space eggs falling past us. From the ship’s central shaft came the sound of the rollers accelerating. I felt the welcome vibration pass through the ship’s girders and rivets, and I blew out a big breath of relief. We were back on course to the counterweight, and at flank speed, to make up for lost time. I just hoped we wouldn’t be too late.

  A MESSAGE FROM EARTH

  “We need to pick up the pace, Cruse,” said Shepherd.

  What he meant was I needed to pick up the pace. We were both outside the Starclimber in our space suits, clinging to the cargo hatch, trying to remove its six bolts. We were each doing three. Shepherd was already on his third; I was still on my second.

  “Ten minutes left,” came the captain’s voice from the air lock.

  It was noon on day six. We were less than twenty hours from the counterweight. Captain Walken had decided it would take two astralnauts to get aboard and reignite the rocket engines, so we’d started drilling in pairs. All of us were working on four hours’ sleep or less. I’d taken enough space walks now to feel much more agile in my suit. I could use my air pistol well, and scuttle nimbly about the ship’s hull. But Shepherd was still faster, and better at using tools.

  In my head were the faint strains of the music of the spheres. There was no explaining it—how it was made, or where it came from—but I knew now that it wasn’t a hallucination. We’d all heard it, and once we’d accepted it, it lost some of its eerie intensity and seemed to play more softly in the back reaches of our brains.

  “I’m all done,” said Shepherd. “I’ll do yours.”

  “I’ll do it,” I said, and finally got my second bolt off.

  “Five minutes,” came the captain’s voice.