Glass Sky (38 page)

Your test results are in. I’ve got some bad news. “What about low-energy transfers? Gravity slingshots?”

“Low energy transfers take months. Gravity slingshots need more computation power than we’ve got. With our resources, L1 is a one-way trip.”

Last night, Jie had dreamed of walking along a beach with Cheng, chasing fireflies. But when he’d looked at the ocean, it had been black with charred corpses. Twenty million in Pakistan and India. Two million in Miami. That’s Cheng’s future. Why should my life be more important?

“I will go alone,” said Jie. “I can take extra supplies and wait for rescue.”

Sharon frowned. “Rescue is a huge assumption. And the ERV doesn’t have enough radiation shielding for a long wait. It should be me. I don’t have a family.”

“I have more impact,” said Jie. “Cheng is free publicity. And I understand the hardware.”

Sally stared from one to the other. “Are you both insane? What part of suicide mission don’t you understand?”

If Jie had been given a chance to shoot himself for the same outcome, he couldn’t have pulled the trigger. But this didn’t feel like suicide. Climbing into a spacecraft was too disconnected from the result. It left the door to denial wedged open just enough. Maybe that’s why some people still smoke. Or cut down the forests that clean their air. Maybe humans naturally believe that there’s always some loophole unless we can see the end directly. That the universe’s laws don’t apply to us.

‹Cheng needs a father,› said Sally.

‹Cheng needs a future.› The words choked in Jie’s mouth. ‹If you had a son, you’d understand.› Will Cheng understand? Will he tell his children stories about his father, who went to the moon, and never returned?

Sally blinked back a tear of her own. ‹I’m sorry. That was selfish. I know how much you love him.›

Jie turned to Sharon. “You won’t try to change my mind?”

Sharon shook her head. “You’re right about the publicity. I can’t capture people’s attention the way you and Cheng can. We can’t be sentimental about it.”

***

Jie retreated to his cabin to compose two messages. The first was for Tania, in case his call got cut off before he could explain himself. He composed it on paper, encoding it in a more prosaic letter using one of the simple ciphers Rajit had used in his spy games with Cheng. Then he typed it – a risk he had to take – and attached it to a delayed-send email script. Cheng’s a smart kid. He’ll know what to do with this.

Composing his goodbye was more difficult. The rambling, handwritten note extended to six pages, a seesaw of emotions, tearstained in places: I’ll never see Cheng again. Optimistic in others: There’s going to be a rescue.

Someone knocked.

“Wèi?”

Sally stepped into the small quarters. ‹Taking control of the base isn’t going to be easy. But it’s doable. We’ve got a plan.›

Jie folded the letter, running his fingers along the stack of papers to make a neat crease. ‹Can you give this to Cheng?›

Sally looked at it for a moment, then took it. ‹I won’t need to. You’ll come back.›

‹Do you really believe that?›

Sally pushed the door shut. ‹Let’s not talk about that,› she said. In one move, she pulled off her T-shirt, revealing rippled abs, her breasts buoyant in the low gravity. She stepped forward.

‹I…›

‹Quiet.› She hopped up, wrapping her legs around his waist.

‹But…›

Sally’s lips pressed against his, cutting off his protest.

For a few sweet hours she held his dread at bay.

***

Jie and Sally emerged a little late for breakfast. Rajit was humming to himself on the couch, clearly happy to have a stack of scribbled math to distract him from worries over his family. Sharon was studying the ERV flight manual over her oatmeal. “Good sleep?” she asked. If she was surprised to see Jie and Sally together, she didn’t mention it.

“Very,” grinned Jie. Not that we slept much.

Rajit handed Jie the top page of his notes.  “Here is your first day of course corrections, Jie. It’ll get you pointed the right way. After that, you’ll have to make your own adjustments based on readings from the XPOS.”

Jie scanned the page. “What are one-second evasives?”

“Thousands of Nanoglass payloads are in transit,” said Rajit. “Earthcon might try to nail you with one. But since payload steering acts by make tiny adjustments over huge distances, any randomness in your trajectory should keep you safe.”

“And what about when I get there? How do I dock with control hub?”

“That,” said Sharon, “is going to be hard. The main ERV engine is optimized for deceleration, not steering. We simulated a space station docking procedure in training once. Sally came in way too fast. She knocked loose the genetics lab and pushed it into the atmosphere.”

Sally scowled. “Thanks, Sharon. Way to ruin my reputation! It’s a good lesson, though. Better to stop short and try again. You won’t be anyone’s hero if you plow into the shield.”

Jie spent the morning studying the ERV’s controls with Sharon, Rajit. Without a simulator, they had to rely on mockups made of paper and random bits from the supplies. The difficult, high-concentration work kept Jie nicely distracted.

In the afternoon, after enough coffee to counteract his night with Sally, they rehearsed the plan to take control of the base’s automated systems away from Earthcon. Sally messed up the computer shutdown sequence the first time. Then Jie missed his own takedown window. The third attempt went flawlessly, at least according to the checklist. Sharon walked them through it twice more, then threw in some random complications.

“I think we’re ready,” she finally announced. “Jie?”

Jie nodded. His face felt tight, his chest hollowed by fear. “Let’s do this.”

“We’d better turn off our little privacy bubble,” said Sharon. “We’ve got more chance of success if Earthcon’s not too suspicious. Though I don’t think they’ll expect this in a million years.” Rajit lifted her up and she plugged the camera and microphones back in. “Welcome back, Earth-con.”

“Sharon. What the hell? That was a serious violation of safety procedures.”

“I hope we made our point. We don’t appreciate being censored,” said Sharon. “Now if it’s OK with you, can we have our movies back?”

The next few hours were the hardest. Jie had to pretend nothing was wrong, even as his moment approached.  He rode the bike, a habit now. It feels so good, not being wrapped in flab. Having a body that works… Maybe I can sneak Sally into my room one last time. But with Earth-con watching again, the moment never came.

Dinner. Small talk. Nothing suspicious here on the moon. They watched two movies, though Jie could recall nothing of the plots. Earthcon changed to night shift.

I’d so love to call Cheng. Talk to him one last time. But there’s no way I could hold it together.

***

At 22:00 Sharon, Jie, and Rajit went to the airlock. Sally followed and sat forlornly on the bench, watching as they changed into spacesuits. She’d stay inside to cut off the computers from Earthcon’s control until after Jie had launched. At least that was the hope. Not all the wiring matched the schematics. It would be easy to miss something.

“Earthcon, this is Sharon. Jie, Rajit, and I are requesting permission to go outside. We’d like one last look before we leave.”

The delay was longer than usual. The night controller normally didn’t need to do much. He’s probably playing video games. “Sorry, Sharon. I’m the only person on duty right now. You know I can’t support a walk by myself. And after your stunt cutting off our communications, management isn’t going to like me bending rules for you.”

First failure point, coming up. Earthcon can simply turn off the airlock, and then it all ends. I go home to Cheng. Pax Gaia dies.

“The walk is my decision as base commander,” said Sharon. “I’m pulling rank on you. And I take full responsibility for the consequences.”

Anxious moments passed.

“All right, Sharon.” He sounded reluctant. “It’s on the record as your call.”

Jie sighed in relief. Poor guy. He has no idea what chaos we’re about to unleash. He picked up his helmet, but before he could put it on, Sally locked him in a tight embrace. Erotic memories of the previous night. Her lips. Her tongue. Her breasts.

“Take care.” It was all that she could say with Earthcon watching. Their eyes locked, communicating what words could not.

Jie screwed down his helmet and stepped into the airlock.

***

Sharon stopped the rover at the landing field’s edge. A mining truck sat 50 meters away from them, parked, as they’d hoped. The lights of the two other mining trucks moved in the blackness below, near the shadowed mass driver base. Second task coming up. It would be dangerous to leave an autonomous vehicle unaccounted for.

They waited, admiring the bleak mountains and endless stars, earth gazing. At exactly 22:20, Jie and Rajit stepped out of the rover. Three minutes. Rajit strode to the sleeping miner and took a position near the battery connection. Sharon started driving down the hill, towards the mass driver base and the other two trucks. Jie watched her headlights wobble down the road for a moment, then bounded towards the ERV in long, floating strides. My final steps on the surface.

“Sharon, Rajit, Jie?” Earthcon’s voice had a high-pitched nervousness. “I can support you even less if you’re spread out.”

Ninety seconds.

“Sorry about that, Earthcon,” said Sharon. “I want to see the mass driver, and Rajit and Jie want to see the ERV. I’ll turn around at the bottom and come back up.”

“I shouldn’t have done this,” grumbled the controller. “I’m cancelling the walk. Return to the station.”

Jie reached the ERV. Climbed up the ladder. He pulled open the hatch and crawled into the cramped interior. It brought back bad memories of the uncomfortable trip from Earth. But at least the extra months had increased the quality of the engineering. Jie lit the controls with his suit light. He pried open the access panel.

Thirty seconds.

“Jie?” Earthcon’s voice was panicked now. “What are you doing? You’re not allowed in there.”

Jie put a glove on a thick bundle of wires. He traced them to a plug labeled “Primary Remote Guidance.”

“I’m calling in the support team,” said Earthcon.

Time! Jie pulled loose the wiring harness. He traced a second set of wires to “Backup Remote Guidance.” He pulled those too. 20:21. Inside the base the coded email waiting on Jie’s computer flashed out to Cheng.

“Help!” Sharon shouted. “I’ve got a problem with my suit.” That’s her signal! She’s deactivated the first truck. Hopefully they can get to the other two before Earthcon figures it out.

A chaotic brew of conversation filled his helmet as Earthcon tried to make sense of multiple simultaneous alarms.

So far so good. He’s definitely distracted. Jie switched to the Earth phone channel even as he heard confirmations that Sally and Rajit had accomplished their tasks.

“Tania Black, please.” I hope she’s near her omni.

TANIA PLACED THE cardboard moving box on the stack near her front door. “Thanks for letting me use your storage, Ruth. I can’t believe I’ve been evicted in the middle of this.”

“I think Juarez is just running up the score now,” said Ruth. “Getting back at you for the White House.” She pointed at the pictures on the wall. “Pack these?”

“Leave them for the movers,” said Tania. “We’re only boxing irreplaceable stuff.”

Her omni buzzed. She fished it out with one arm as she rolled up a wall hanging gifted to her by villagers in Guatemala. She glanced at the screen. Weird. “Tian Jie. That’s twice in two days.” Hopefully this conversation won’t be quite so strange. Or get cut off.

The two government agents were sitting on the front steps. They’d been watching a movie on their EyeSistants last time Tania had checked. “Let’s take it upstairs,” suggested Tania. Better to be careful.

Ruth followed her to the bedroom, and Tania tapped the call to the TV. Jie had the dark eye circles of somebody who’d missed most of a night’s sleep. His face was lit from below, giving him a slightly ghoulish look.

“Jie, what can I do for you?”

“Is he in a spacecraft?” Ruth whispered. Tania shrugged.

“Tania, I need your help,” Jie said. “If the censorship AI cuts me off, Cheng also has the message. But I think I figured out censorship system well enough that…”

The screen blanked. “Your call has been terminated by an automated system for violating the terms of a legal agreement.”

“That’s twice now,” said Ruth. “I think he’s overestimating his knowledge of the censorship system.”

“I get the feeling that was very important,” said Tania. She dialed Cheng in Beijing. An AI answered in a babble of Chinese. I think shuìmián means sleep.

Ruth locked the door.

“It’s Tania Black calling from the US. Override. This is an emergency regarding Cheng’s father.”

“Verify your identify.”

Tania pressed her thumb on the pad.

“One moment please.” The omni rang for nearly a minute. Ruth paced.

“Wèi?” A child’s voice, groggy, the screen privacy black.

“Cheng? This is Tania Black.”

“Tania?” A yawn. “What’s going on?”

“Your dad called a few minutes ago,” Tania said. “The censoring software cut him off, but he says he sent you the message, too.”

“Just a second. Let me check my messages.” The screen came to life, revealing Cheng in light-blue rocket pajamas. From her email exchanges, it was hard to remember that he’d only just turned ten.

He messed around with his omni for a moment, then his eyes lit up with excitement. “It’s a code,” he said. “It looks normal, but there’s another message hidden inside of it. Rajit taught this to me. It won’t take long to figure out. I’ll send it to you.”

The screen blanked.

Ruth opened the bedroom window and measured the distance into the yard. “Do you have anything with an extension cord? An antique vacuum, maybe? Something we could use to climb down.”

Tania felt a chill. “Are you serious?”

“All your calls are being monitored, Tania,” said Ruth. “Those goons downstairs will be on us in minutes.”

“My vacuum is an autobot,” said Tania. “It comes out when I’m gone. I don’t even know where it lives.”

“Plan B.” Ruth rummaged in the closet and pulled out sheets. She piled them on the unmade bed. “Help me knot these together.”

Tania hesitated.

“Come on! If I’m being paranoid, I’ll help you fold them. If not, you owe me your life.”

Tying sheets into a rope was harder than it looked. The knots used a lot of material, and it took six sheets before they had something long enough to potentially reach the ground. Before they had a chance to test the length, Tania’s omni beeped. Tania flicked the message onto the television.

Dear Cheng and Tania:

Our political leaders cannot be trusted with the shield. So we have taken control of the moon base. I am taking the Earth return vehicle to L1. In four days I will reset the shield passwords. I hope that you, Tania, can find more responsible owners than the US and China. An AI? A team of scientists?

Suddenly the knotted sheets didn’t seem paranoid at all. Tania forced herself to keep reading.

“I hope that our actions create big publicity for Pax Gaia. But this is more than just a gesture. To regain control of shield, US and China must send a spacecraft to L1. If you get enough support, many countries have orbital weapons.”

“For me, this may be one-way mission. Rajit says there is not enough fuel to return. Tania, it was you who opened my eyes to beauty of Earth. Do what you think is right. Cheng. I love you. Someday, you will understand. Jie.”

Bright sunlight filtered through the bedroom window. Birdsong floated from the garden. Another beautiful fall morning in Boulder. Somewhere far above, Jie sat alone in a small capsule, preparing to die in the vast emptiness of space.

Ruth tied the sheets to the dresser. “We’ve got to get out of here. Fast. If they stop us, everything Jie’s doing is for nothing.”

Tania stared at the screen. “Tania!” Ruth snapped her fingers.

“I need to forward this email,” she said.

“We don’t have time,” said Ruth. “And it’ll endanger our friends. We need to think before we act. Figure out how best to use this.” Ruth tugged on the sheets and vanished out of the window.

Booted feet stomped up the stairway. A sharp knock shook the locked door. “Doctor Black. Open up please.” The handle rattled.

“Coming,” Tania called, as she backed out after Ruth. The knots on the makeshift rope tightened, stretching alarmingly. I hope this holds. She hand-over-handed to the ground. Leaves fluttered off the trees, flashing yellow as they spun in the sunshine. They clambered over the back fence and into the park behind the house. The neighbor waved from her yard. She was digging up her banana plants, composting them in preparation for fall.

Wood splintered faintly in the distance, followed by muffled shouts.

“This way.” Ruth broke into a fast walk, cutting through a yard to break the sightline. “Don’t run.”

Tania pulled out her omni. “I’ve got to warn Cheng. He’s in danger.” She pushed redial, realizing the absurdity of it even as she made the call. What am I going to do? Tell him to hide? He’s ten.

“Wèi?” A man answered, black military sweater, hair cropped short. “Who is this?” he demanded in English. Tania hung up.

They cut through another yard, driving a fuzzy ball of dog into a frenzy. “Get us a car to the airport,” Ruth ordered.

“The airport? That’s the first place…”

“Just do it!” Ruth snapped. “And stop looking behind us, you’ll draw attention. It’s not our guards we have to worry about. We’ve lost them. It’s the other people who are coming.”

Tania messaged for a car. “Now give me your omni,” said Ruth.

Their car pulled over to meet them as they reached the street and they climbed into the back seat. The front passenger was a woman in her thirties, a toddler on her lap. She looked at Tania with that familiar ‘Haven’t I seen you before?’ stare. Tania ignored her, hunching low.

“Airport?” Ruth asked the woman. The woman nodded, watching them suspiciously.

Tania risked a glance back as they turned the corner. Two vehicles had stopped at the end of the block, parked haphazardly on a lawn. Dark suited men were pouring out, heading toward her house. Then they froze, like robots downloading new orders, and wheeled as one, racing back to their cars. One of them pointed down the street in Tania’s direction.

Ruth bent down, pretending to tie her shoelace. She slipped Tania’s omni into the front seat passenger’s purse. “Oh, shit!” Ruth slapped her forehead. “I forgot the samples. Stop!”

She’d timed it just as they passed Pearl Street. The car pulled over, and Tania and Ruth fled into the crowded pedestrian mall. Half a block down, a group of teenagers in red “350” shirts were handing out information. “Have you heard about Pax Gaia?” asked a ponytailed girl with a face tattoo. “I can tap you the whole plan if you want to learn more.” Her eyes popped with recognition. “Whoa. You’re Tania Black. Hey! Everyone! It’s Tania Black!”

“Sorry, gotta run,” said Ruth. She tugged Tania down the mall, shoving aside pedestrians. A block away they ducked into an outdoor equipment store, catching their breaths in front of the racks of climbing gear.

Ruth grinned despite their predicament. “I’m proud of you, Tania. When we met, you threw me out for not being squeaky-clean enough. Now you’re in a conspiracy to steal a trillion dollar space shield from the two most powerful nations on Earth.”

“What are we going to do?” hissed Tania. “We don’t have money. Or ID. How can I function without an omni?”

Ruth reached into her pocket. “I always carry a spare, remember. Plus cash. If we’re careful, I think we can make it to Witty.”

“Witty?” Tania tensed as the door opened, but it was just two teenage girls. “That’s nearly as obvious as the airport. Besides, yesterday he sounded ready to give up on us. ‘No sense sacrificing my career for nothing.’”

“Witty only plays when he thinks he can win,” said Ruth. “But he did tell us to capture Earth’s attention. And help us or not, we can’t stay here.”

***

Two doors down a colorful wooden sign advertised used fashions.

“Keep an eye on the street,” ordered Ruth. She emerged a few minutes later with two armfuls of clothing. “Hurry, before they notice I’m not in the change room. We can use the restrooms by City Hall.”

“You stole this?”

Ruth wove through the crowd. “In a few hours somebody will look through the camera records, and track any purchases in that store. I only have the one spare omni. We need to save it.”

They reached the public restrooms, and each took a stall to change in. Tania looked at Ruth’s selection with horror. The skin-tight shirt ended well above her belly button; the velvety pants sat so low that they should have come with a razor. A hat and a pair of large, mirrored sunglasses completed the outfit.

“Is this your idea of inconspicuous? We look like a pair of hookers.”

“You’re finally wearing something sexy,” said Ruth. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. Nobody pays attention to the homeless guy raving on the corner, right? You’ve got to lose the sport bra though. It looks funny through that fabric.”

They returned to the street. Tania tried to ignore the stares. Transparent didn’t begin to describe her top. Ruth strutted down the mall, smiling at the women, winking at the men. At the end of the block she veered into a GBOP. She ordered burgers and milkshakes, paying with a crumpled bill. She’s right about people not noticing. They see us, but we’re stereotypes. In normal clothing, cash would have drawn attention. But not the way they were dressed. They hid at a table in the corner.

“Do people actually put this into their mouths?” Tania asked, poking at the burger. “GBOP patties are made of deep-fried plastic flakes.”

“They’re called calorie-wise flavor niblets,” said Ruth. “They pass through your body undigested instead of clinging to your hips as fat.” She slurped her milkshake. “People dressed like us don’t eat at sushi restaurants.”

“People dressed like us inject stims and have sex for money,” said Tania. “I’ll try the food. But if I have to sleep with a homeless guy to get a hotel room tonight, I’m going to take my chances with Juarez.”

She steeled herself and bit into the burger. It tasted surprisingly good for something engineered to pass through the body undigested. “How can we possibly get to Los Angeles?”

“Air travel is obviously out,” said Ruth. “And the hyperloop doesn’t go across Utah yet. Which leaves cars. We’ll do it in stages, traveling between towns that don’t have airports so that it’s less obvious.” She tilted her head towards the door. “Don’t stare, but we’re about to test my clothing selection.”

Two men in suits and military haircuts were standing in the doorway, obstructing traffic. Mirrored EyeSistants hid their eyes. What is it with these guys? Is there a factory that mass-produces them? They looked around the restaurant, their gazes slipping over Tania and Ruth, then left without ordering.

“I’d hoped my airport trick would buy more time,” said Ruth. “But our outfits work. At least against EyeSistants. We won’t fool identity drones.”

“How many times have you done this?”

“Zero,” said Ruth. “More or less. I’ve run from the police, but not far, or with stakes this high.”

They finished the “food” and exited into a trash-filled alley. Ruth checked for cameras, then ordered a car to Aspen. Agonizing minutes passed. Aspen was a long trip. There’d be few cars heading in that direction. In the distance, identity drones started up with a telltale whine.

A white four-seater stopped. Tania and Ruth scrambled into the back, drawing stares from the two dreadlocked climber types in the front seat. For a moment Tania worried they’d be stuck in awkward conversation, but after Ruth drunkenly asked them for money their fellow travelers kept to themselves.