“Faster if I do the last one,” Shepherd said.
“I’ll do it,” I told him again, but he ignored me. I saw him floating over from his side of the hatch. The thought of him finishing my work filled me with a sudden pounding rage. I was sick of his disapproval. Never fast enough. Never good enough. I reached up to push him away.
“Back off, Shepherd!” I said.
I must have shoved harder than I thought, because he gave a grunt of surprise and sailed away from the ship—
—straight down toward the astral cable, pulsing with high voltage.
“Shepherd, look out!” I shouted.
He fumbled for his air pistol, but I grabbed hold of his umbilicus as it snaked past and gave it a jerk. Not five feet from the cable, he snapped back toward me and came sailing up to safety.
“Mr. Cruse, report please,” came the captain’s voice in my helmet.
“Sorry, Shepherd, I’m sorry,” I said, horrified by what I’d done.
“I’m bringing you both in,” said the captain.
Shepherd said nothing as we were reeled back toward the Starclimber.
“This is most unlike you, Mr. Cruse,” said the captain.
We were inside the pressurized air lock, and I’d made my report of what had happened. I was deeply ashamed of myself, but there was no point trying to hide anything.
“I’m sorry, sir, I lost my head.”
The captain looked at me thoughtfully. “We’re all under a great deal of strain. But you’re no stranger to that. You’ve been in situations few sky sailors could survive. I know I can expect your best.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“That’ll be all, gentlemen.”
“With respect, sir,” said Shepherd, “I don’t think Cruse should be considered for the counterweight job. He’s not fast enough. And I don’t think he can handle the pressure of outer space.”
“That’s my decision to make, Mr. Shepherd, and I’ll be making it closer to the time.”
“Yes, sir, but if it turns out I’m part of that team, I want a partner I can trust.”
My face burned. I felt like a whipped dog.
“Mr. Shepherd,” the captain replied, “I think you are too used to flying solo. Mr. Cruse is as trustworthy as any man on this ship.”
Shepherd looked past the captain as he spoke. “Sir, he’s an impressive young man with a great deal of potential, but he’s too young, and he’s here only because a better man made a mistake.”
Captain Walken made no reply for a moment. “Mr. Shepherd,” he said calmly, “I know you and Mr. Bronfman were friends, and that you respected his abilities. But if we’re to succeed at this, we’ve got to trust one another. Am I clear?”
“Very clear. Captain,” he added, after just a moment’s hesitation.
“Excellent. Now, both of you take a half-hour break, and then report back to the bridge. There’s still a great deal more to do.”
When I reached B-Deck, everyone was at work. Kate floated over her specimen cage, busily taking notes, while Miss Karr clacked away at her typewriter. Sir Hugh hovered about, peering at the dead hatchling from various angles.
I was tired and should’ve tried to steal a quick nap, but I knew I’d just float there on my bunk, fuming about what had happened and the corrosive things Shepherd had said. I needed a distraction right now, and I decided to stay in the lounge.
“I imagine you’ll be writing about this creature in your daily dispatch, Miss Karr,” said Sir Hugh.
“Of course,” she said. “The world will want to know about this. I have to admit, I didn’t think we’d find any life in outer space.”
“Is that right?” said Sir Hugh with a chuckle. “A bit shortsighted, don’t you think, Miss Karr? As I always tell my students, if zoology has taught us anything, it’s that life can adapt to virtually any conditions. And this creature here is a perfect example of that.”
Sir Hugh looked expectantly at Miss Karr, as if waiting for her to type down his priceless words this very instant. But Miss Karr merely gazed back at him like a falcon sighting prey. I glanced over at Kate, expecting her to make some sarcastic remark, but she was staring openmouthed at Sir Hugh, clearly too stunned to speak. Did Sir Hugh really think anyone would believe such a complete turnaround?
“I suspect,” Sir Hugh carried on, as though lecturing to one of his classes, “that these creatures have a completely different metabolism from what we’re used to on earth. They clearly require no oxygen, no hydrogen, no water to survive. They manage to make energy from other means. How, I don’t know yet, but I will delve into this matter and make a complete study of the morphology and biology of this wonderful creature. I have no doubt the scientific world will be turned on its head when I publish my paper.”
“Gosh, Sir Hugh,” said Kate pleasantly, “won’t that be a little awkward for you? Especially after that big article you published last spring, saying only nitwits and simpletons believed in life in outer space?”
Sir Hugh cleared his throat. “Well, my dear, when presented with new data, scientists must not be afraid to revisit past ideas. No, no, we forge ahead into the future and share our new learning with our peers. And that is precisely what I will be doing when I write about this new discovery of mine.” He looked over at Miss Karr. “You may quote me, Miss Karr. I don’t mind in the least.”
“How is it your discovery?” Miss Karr asked tartly. “Any more than anyone else’s aboard ship?”
“It was actually Miss de Vries who made the first discovery,” I pointed out. “The microscopic life on the egg.”
Kate gave me a smile, and I couldn’t help smiling back. I was still annoyed with her, but I couldn’t bear Sir Hugh being such a hypocrite about everything.
“Ah, yes,” said Miss Karr, typing away. “The astral plankton, I’ll make a note of that. Now, do we have a name for the creature that hatched? A name will make it stick much better in the reader’s mind.”
“Well,” said Sir Hugh, “when naming a new species, one has to take several factors into account, of course—”
“Etherians,” said Kate at once.
“Etherians?” said Sir Hugh. “It’s not exactly scientific, my dear.”
“Please don’t call me ‘my dear,’ Sir Hugh,” said Kate. “You may call Mrs. Snuffler ‘my dear’ if she’ll tolerate it, but not me.”
At this Miss Karr gave a merry cackle. “I like your spirit, Miss de Vries. Well done. And I like your name. Etherian.”
“After Kepler’s heavenly ether?” I asked.
Kate nodded.
“I’m using it,” said Miss Karr, clacking away. “It’s perfect. Mark my words, Sir Hugh, this name will stick.”
Sir Hugh, I noticed, was looking a bit sweaty at this point. With some revulsion he glanced at the dead hatchling in its cage.
“It’s an ugly brute,” he said, as if hoping to change the subject. “Lucky it didn’t get its teeth into us, hey?”
“They’re not teeth at all,” said Kate. “If you look closely, you’ll see they’re much more like baleen.”
“Yes, of course, of course,” said Sir Hugh hastily.
“What’s baleen?” I asked.
“It’s what some whales have,” said Kate, “instead of teeth.”
I came in for a better look. What I’d first thought were needle-sharp teeth were actually thin blades of a dense, stringy material stretched between upper and lower jaw.
“In whales, it’s made from the same thing as hair, amazingly enough,” Kate said. “The plankton gets caught up in it, and then the whale whisks them down its throat. So you see, Mr. Cruse, this creature isn’t dangerous to us at all.”
I looked up, feeling foolish. “They sure looked like teeth to me.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Kate, her eyes bright, “if this creature fed on the kinds of organisms I discovered on the egg. I wonder if they float free in space, just like plankton in the sea! Of course, I’m still waiting for Sir Hugh
to verify my findings. He thought my slides were dirty.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll check that, of course,” Sir Hugh said. “Fascinating stuff, lots of work ahead. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He shuffled off on his magnetic shoes toward the lavatory.
“Poor old Hughie,” said Miss Karr when he was out of earshot. “It’s all been a bit much for him, hasn’t it?”
“I don’t feel sorry for him in the least,” said Kate.
“Nor I,” said Miss Karr. Her hands hung over her typewriter. “Do you think I should describe him as insufferable or conceited?”
“Either is excellent,” said Kate. “But you’re the writer, Miss Karr.” She turned to me. “Mr. Cruse, I want to apologize to you. I behaved like a spoiled child earlier, and I’m very sorry.”
“It’s quite all right, Miss de Vries,” I said. But I wondered if she’d have been so apologetic if she didn’t have her specimen.
“I was just so overwhelmed by the hatchling, I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“It’s been a trying time for everyone,” I said, thinking glumly of my own outburst with Shepherd.
“How does it move about, though?” Miss Karr asked. “It doesn’t have any limbs I can see.”
“Jet propulsion,” Kate said. “You see those little slits all over its body? It expels some kind of gas through those.”
“A very smelly gas,” I added, for a sour odor still lingered in the lounge.
“It’s a brilliant system of locomotion,” said Kate. “In outer space, fins or flukes would be quite pointless. There’s nothing to push against. So it produces its own propellant and off it goes. Space really does seem a kind of sea, don’t you think, with all sorts of things drifting around?”
“We’re still in the shallows,” I said, remembering the immensity of space beyond earth.
“The shallows,” said Kate, her eyes twinkling. “I like that very much. Maybe what we’re finding so far are the creatures that stay close to shore. Little things. Maybe in the great deeps, we’d find bigger things, like squids and whales!”
I thought of the enormous, pulsing blue object that had streaked past our ship on our first night out. Kate’s suggestion that it was a living creature didn’t seem so outlandish anymore—certainly no more than a Martian spacecraft.
“What I’d really like to know,” said Kate, “is what laid all those eggs?”
Miss Karr’s fingers froze above her keyboard, and a silence fell over the lounge. It was a sobering image. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. But of course those eggs had come from something.
“In most aquatic animals,” said Kate carefully—and I felt gooseflesh erupt over my neck—“in all egg-laying animals, in fact, the hatchlings are a fraction of the size of the adults, and often undergo dramatic changes.”
“Is that right?” said Miss Karr, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
“Hullo?” came a muffled but urgent voice from the toilets. “Hullo?”
“Is that Sir Hugh?” said Miss Karr.
“Hullo? Could someone lend a hand? I seem to be stuck!”
We all looked at one another. Kate was trying very hard not to laugh, and then laughed anyway.
“Could someone—a gentleman, mind you—come and give me some assistance! Quickly!”
“I’ll go,” I said. I floated back behind the kitchen to the lavatory. Before we’d left earth, we’d all been given lessons on the space toilets. They were complicated, with straps and restraint bars and levers that you pulled to flush everything into outer space.
Even before I opened the door, I could hear the powerful sound of the toilet’s suction. I drifted inside quickly. Sir Hugh was strapped onto the toilet, struggling mightily against the seat with both hands, while his bottom was slowly but surely being sucked deeper into the bowl.
“It’s got hold of me!” Sir Hugh cried. “This bloody thing won’t let up! Help, Cruse! I’m liable to be sucked right out!”
I quickly reached over to the flush lever and flipped it off. The loud sucking sound ceased, and Sir Hugh and I were left together in silence. It was rather close in the small lavatory.
“Sir Hugh,” I said, “you aren’t supposed to flush until you’re off the seat.”
“I’m sure I didn’t,” he said, as though I’d insulted him. “The bloody thing has a mind of its own. I don’t know what happened.” He was undoing the restraint straps and trying to push himself up off the seat. “Um…I seem to be…I’m wedged, you see. If you’d be so kind.”
When you see a fellow with his tartan underpants down around his skinny ankles, and know his bum has been sucked into a toilet bowl, it’s hard not to feel a bit sorry for him, even if he is a pompous monster. I slipped my feet into some floor cleats, grabbed his hands, and pulled.
There was a rather rude slurping noise, and Sir Hugh’s large red bottom popped out of the toilet seat. He sailed over my head and collided with the wall.
“I’m fine, I’m fine!” he said, trying to hoist up his underpants and trousers as he thrashed around overhead.
“I’ll just slip out now, if that’s all right, Sir Hugh,” I said, trying to keep his legs and feet off me.
“Yes, all right,” he muttered, still struggling with his clothing. “Uh, thank you, Mr. Cruse. Most kind. I can take it from here.”
I gratefully closed the door behind me and hoped I’d never have to see Sir Hugh’s bum again.
When I reported for bridge duty, Shepherd was already there, listening intently with Tobias as Captain Walken talked to Ground Station. Twenty thousand miles away, Mr. Lunardi’s voice came crackling over our speaker.
“I’m sorry to deliver this news, Samuel,” he said. “I know you’ve got enough to deal with right now. But General Lancaster’s taking it very seriously and thinks you should too.”
“Thank you, Otto,” said the captain. “You’ll be hearing from us soon.”
“Good luck, Samuel.”
“Starclimber out,” said the captain, and removed his headset.
“What’s going on?” I asked, looking around at everyone.
The captain rubbed his temples. “Apparently the Babelites sent the Aeroforce a message. They say there’s a bomb aboard the Starclimber.”
I felt numb but not surprised, for I’d worried almost constantly about just such a thing happening.
“There can’t be a bomb aboard,” said Tobias. “It’s just a stupid hoax!”
Shepherd shook his head. “The general wouldn’t warn us if he thought it was just a hoax.”
“Every inch of the ship was checked,” I said. “Every bit of cargo. There’s no way they could sneak a bomb aboard.”
“Unless one of us brought it aboard,” said Shepherd.
I stared at Shepherd, openmouthed with disbelief.
“You’re suggesting one of us is a Babelite?” said Captain Walken.
“I’m suggesting it’s a possibility,” he replied.
The captain shook his head. “Everyone’s been carefully screened.”
“Like Grendel Eriksson?” Shepherd retorted. “Right under our noses the whole time. I don’t have that much faith in Mr. Lunardi. We should think about this very carefully.”
“So who’ve you got in mind, Shepherd?” Tobias asked, his eyebrows angled dangerously. “Miss de Vries? She’s a suffragette, after all. Practically an anarchist. Or how about Miss Karr? Or maybe her bloody monkey?”
“I was thinking more of you, Blanchard.”
“You’re not serious, Shepherd!” I said.
“Enough of this!” said the captain.
“Hear me out, sir,” said Shepherd, his eyes fixed on Tobias. “Of all the people aboard he’s not known well by anyone else.”
“Neither are you, Shepherd,” I said.
“The Aeroforce has a record a mile long on me. But who can really vouch for Blanchard? He’s not sure we should even be in outer space—he’s said as much to me.”
Tobias was red-faced. “If I was secretly a Babelite,
I’d hardly be talking like that, would I?” he shouted.
“Why are you getting so angry, Blanchard?” Shepherd asked calmly.
I should’ve leapt to Tobias’s defense, but all I could think about was what Tobias had said toward the end of his space walk. Shouldn’t be here…don’t belong. I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, because I thought it was just his mind wandering. But I stared at him now, looking like he was ready to take a swing at Shepherd—and I wondered. I wondered if he could truly be a Babelite. Back in Paris I’d flown for two weeks with one and never had a clue.
“Enough!” said the captain once more. “This is a waste of our time, gentlemen. We can’t afford to be distracted. Mr. Blanchard is no Babelite, nor is anyone else aboard. The idea is absurd.”
Hearing the captain’s fierce certainty made me feel ashamed of my doubts.
“We’re going to ignore the Babelites’ threat,” said Captain Walken, “and that’s an end to it.”
“You’re making the wrong decision, sir,” said Shepherd.
My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t believe Shepherd’s insolence.
The captain’s voice was hard. “Mr. Shepherd, you’d do well to remember there can be only one captain aboard ship.”
“With respect, sir, I think we got the wrong one for this expedition.”
I’d served under Captain Walken for three years, and I’d never seen the ferocious face he wore now. “Be very careful what you say, Mr. Shepherd. I am a tolerant commander, but one thing I will not tolerate is mutinous talk. I will overlook it this once, as you are clearly under strain, but let me hear no more of it. Do you understand?”
Shepherd stared back at the captain, then looked down. “Yes, sir.”
“Then let’s get back to work, gentlemen.”
“And we have liftoff!” Dr. Turgenev said. “Is simple, yes?”
Tobias and I drifted back from the mock-up control panel we’d built in an empty stretch of B-Deck behind the kitchen. We’d all been taking turns, practicing the ignition sequence, and this was my third run-through.
“How fast were we that time?” I asked Shepherd, who held a stopwatch.
“Seven minutes,” he said. “We need to shave it down to six.”