Starclimber (22 page)

“I heard music out there,” I confessed.

He smiled. “As did Shepherd. And I myself.”

“You never mentioned it, sir!”

“I wanted to see if we’d all hear it.”

“It’s funny,” I said. “I don’t hear it when I’m spotting from the air lock.”

The captain nodded. “Maybe you need to be completely immersed before you hear it.”

“What do you think it is?”

He shook his head. “A pressure on the inner ear perhaps? An auditory hallucination? Or maybe it truly is music of the spheres.”

“I like that one best,” I said.

“Me too,” chuckled Captain Walken. “Me too.”

As we left the air lock, I saw Kate working alone in the laboratory.
Laboratory
was a fancy word for the space, since it was really just a small area of C-Deck amidst the clutter of ship’s machinery and vents and cables and stacks of spare equipment.

She was buckled to a seat at the workbench, intently swabbing the space rock with a wet brush. The rock was securely strapped down to the table. It was larger than I remembered: a bit bigger than a basketball, though irregularly shaped, with quite a rough exterior. It had a dark, slightly porous look, flecked with what could have been quartz.

“You’re hard at work, Miss de Vries,” said the captain.

Kate looked up. “Well, there’s not much point sitting around worrying.”

She’d been very brave earlier when I’d told them what was happening. Most everyone had. Chef Vlad had nodded gravely, said, “Soup,” and floated back to his kitchen to make some. Miss Karr gave a wry little laugh and muttered something about “Big boys with their big, big toys,” but then added that she had no doubt we’d fix things. Sir Hugh, however, had launched into an angry tirade, saying he’d never have come if he’d known this sort of thing could happen, and he was going to write a very stiff letter to Mr. Lunardi. Kate had wanted to know what she could do to help, and hadn’t seemed very happy when I told her there was nothing at the moment.

“How was your first space walk?” she asked me now.

I cleared my throat. “Well, it was—”

“Excellent,” said Captain Walken. “I couldn’t ask for a better team of astralnauts.”

Feeling grateful, I said nothing.

“What are our chances of surviving this?” she asked. “Please be honest.”

“Our chances are very good,” said the captain. “Very good indeed.”

Her eyes were on my face, not the captain’s, watching. I hoped my expression didn’t betray my own fears. I didn’t want her to be frightened, but I’m not sure she believed me.

“What is it exactly you’re doing, Miss de Vries?” I asked, eager to change the subject.

“Just preparing some slides,” she said, and daubed her wet brush on a glass plate. She carefully placed a thinner glass on top and slid it beneath the lens of her microscope.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to return to the bridge,” said Captain Walken. “Mr. Cruse, please see if you can find some more toggle switches and indicator lights down here for the mock-up console. Mr. Blanchard said we were still short.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. I’d been prepared to go with him to the bridge, for I knew how much there was to be done. I wondered if he was giving me permission to have a moment alone with Kate. The captain floated up the stairs and was gone.

I moved closer to Kate. Her head was bent over her microscope, her slender fingers turning the focus knobs.

“There really is music of the spheres,” I said.

“Get Sir Hugh,” she said abruptly, looking up from her microscope.

I pulled back. “What?”

She twisted around and gave me a push that sent me sailing toward the stairs. “Go get Sir Hugh! Hurry!”

Her tone was so urgent that I didn’t dare argue. I jetted up to B-Deck. As I sailed around the circular lounge, looking for the zoologist, I saw his spectacles floating in midair, and a little farther on his favorite pen, and then various sheets of his notepaper, fluttering like giant snowflakes.

One of the unexpected things about weightlessness was how things had an odd habit of traveling around on their own. It wasn’t at all unusual to find a pair of underwear drifting through the lounge, or someone’s toothbrush turning up in the kitchen. It was as if outer space had liberated these things from their boring, immobile lives and given them a giddy freedom.

I found Sir Hugh strapped into an armchair, fast asleep, his arms and legs floating straight out from his body. He’d obviously dozed off.

“Sir Hugh,” I said, shaking him gently. “Miss de Vries would like you to have a look at something.”

“I’m very busy,” he grumbled, still half asleep.

“It’s important, I think,” I said more loudly.

Sir Hugh sighed heavily. “Oh, very well. Give me a few moments.”

He unbuckled himself. I drifted closer to lend him a hand but he waved me away.

“I’ll be quite all right on my own.”

Of all the people aboard the
Starclimber
, he was the clumsiest in zero gravity. With tiny shuffling steps of his magnetic shoes he started working his way toward the stairs. Too impatient to wait, I hurried back down to C-Deck.

“You’ve found something, haven’t you?” I said to Kate.

She was peering into the microscope as if afraid to break her gaze, in case what she saw would vanish.

“It’s here,” she said softly. “There’s life.”

When she looked up, her face shone with an almost uncontainable excitement.

“Look!” she said, jabbing her finger at the eyepiece.

Floating on my stomach, I grabbed the edge of the workbench and lowered my head to the microscope.

Jewels. That’s what they looked like to me—some round, others long and diamond shaped, many were beaded together like glistening necklaces. The colors startled me, for somehow you didn’t imagine that something so small should be exploding with luminous blues and deep purples, like things from the sea. Beautiful they were.

“Where did these come from?” I asked.

“The surface of the space rock,” she said, practically panting in her exhilaration.

“And they’re alive?”

“I thought they were moving a bit at first. I think our air killed them, or at least our air pressure. They wouldn’t be used to it.”

“But what are they?”

“They look a bit like diatoms to me. Tiny unicellular organisms. Yet they’re quite different from anything I’ve seen on earth, crystalline almost. The way they link together in patterns reminds me of plankton.”

“Little fish in the sea?”

“Not fish. Plankton are drifters.” Something seemed to occur to her. “You know those early scientists who wondered if outer space was liquid? Maybe they weren’t so far off! Maybe it’s like a vast sea, and what I’ve just discovered is some kind of astral algae!”

“It’s incredible!” I said.

“And if there’s plankton drifting around out here, maybe there’s other life that eats the plankton!”

She looked so excited and happy, I wanted to hug her, but I heard Sir Hugh’s magnetic feet clanking down the stairs.

“Is there anything interesting about that bit of space rock?” he asked.

“Quite interesting, Sir Hugh,” Kate said pleasantly. “You’ll want to take a look.”

When he was finally buckled down at the workbench, he put his eye to the microscope. He spent a great deal of time adjusting the knobs and clearing his throat. Kate looked at me over the top of Sir Hugh’s balding head and gave a huge grin.

“Your slide is dirty, Miss de Vries,” the zoologist said.

Kate’s mouth fell open. “It’s not in the least dirty!”

“You prepared this slide yourself?” he asked.

“Yes, from a swab of the surface of the space rock.”

“Either your solution or the slide itself was already tainted with some microbial matter.”

“I took every precaution,” said Kate indignantly.

“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.

B
eyond 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.