To The Stars (The Harry Irons Trilogy) (6 page)

"Bart's a little out of it right now."

Bart responded immediately. "No, I'm not. Well, that's not entirely true, but I am able to respond." He looked at Harry.

"Good morning, Harry."

"Mornin' Bart."

"So," Dr. Parker said, leaning on the table, "Kathleen tells us you're in the running. That's good. We need smart, young men."

Harry noted that the doctor was no older than Harry.

"Have you been through the hole yet?" Harry asked.

"Why no, I haven't. None of us have except for Edward and Doris. Doris is the mission XO."

"So, what's Edward's job?"

Kathleen shook her head. "We can't talk about that now."

"Why not?"

"Company rules, infringement of rights, contractual stuff that could end up in court. You know, people will sue over anything these days."

Harry frowned.

"Don't worry, Harry. We're pulling for you. We'd like to see you on the team. There's a lot of closed door stuff going on. Teams are being selected."

Parker waved a hand in the air, back-handed, as if brushing away any misunderstanding. "Politics and all that."

Bart suddenly slapped the tabletop with both hands and pushed his chair backward. "Well, I'm going inside. I want to see the wormhole presentation."

So did Harry. He looked at Frankie and George. They were talking to three female candidates and showed no interest in re-entering the auditorium.

"Why don't we sit together?" suggested Kathleen.

"All right. Glad to meet you, Dr. Parker."

"Same here. Good luck, Harry." The doctor remained seated while Kathleen boldly took Harry by the hand and followed Bart down the stairs and into the auditorium. Harry winked to his friends as he was led out of the lobby.

The theater was dark; it took a moment for Harry's eyes to adjust. The image on the screen was that of the solar system and its relationship with nearby systems. As Kathleen led Harry to their seats, a faceless narrator told the audience about brown dwarfs, quasars, double and triple star systems, black holes, imploding stars, exploding stars, gravitational fields, and folded space. The presentation was first rate; at times, three-dimensional images danced over the heads of the audience, and holograms moved up and down the aisles.

Bart sat on one side of Kathleen while Harry sat on the other. Kathleen continued to hold Harry's hand. Once they were situated, Harry leaned close.

"What is it with you and Bart?"

"Oh yeah, that." She whispered back. "It seems so natural I forget sometimes."

The speaker described what the fabric of the universe looked like by displaying a gridwork pattern on the screen. The display zoomed in on a place that looked like a hole. "...a graphical representation of the Berzier/Claymore anomaly," intoned the narrator, "the wormhole. As you can see, owing to fluctuations in gravitational forces, the entrance to the wormhole is constantly in flux."

"Yeah?" Harry prompted Kathleen to continue.

"Bart's a wirehead, you know. He's hooked up. I met him in graduate school, along with a lot of other rich, smart people. Those were crazy times. Everybody was getting hooked up, having implants put in. Bart's got five plugs, three for inputs and two for outputs. He can run servos from his head. Bart's a genius. Certified."

Somebody coughed for quiet. A moment passed. Suddenly, the screen burst with life as it took the viewer on a simulated trip through the wormhole. The background volume increased. Harry leaned closer to Kathleen. Her hair smelled nice.

"So?"

Kathleen sighed. "So, a few of us decided to have receiver implants. I have one right here." She tapped a spot behind her ear.

"And Bart is the transmitter?"

Bart leaned across in front of Kathleen. "Yes," he said, "you got it. Now can we please watch the presentation?"

"Sure," Harry blushed in the dark. "Sorry."

Harry and Kathleen both fell silent and watched the show. Kathleen continued to hold his hand. Harry felt odd and wondered if Bart was talking to Kathleen at that very moment via their wireless connection. How could she have done such a thing, Harry wondered? It was like, well it was like getting a tattoo. Responsible people just didn't do such things.

On the giant viewscreen, the trip through the wormhole ended when they came out the other end. The narrator continued to talk about the 'elastic' properties of the wormhole. "...physicists arrived at the astounding conclusion that variances in entrance velocities would yield specific locations; in other words, the speed at which one enters the wormhole is what determines where one goes. The number of possible exits are still being calculated. Practically speaking, it seems the number of possible destinations is limitless."

Kathleen patted Harry's hand. "We'll talk more later."

Still confused, he merely nodded.

The presentation ended, and as the next presentation began, Bart insisted they return to the lobby so he could get something to eat.

"My blood sugar's running low," he said as he led the way out.

Outside, they ran into Frankie and George. Reluctant to be snubbed again, they tried to beg off when Harry asked them to sit down. Kathleen hailed a passing waiter and requested ale for the boys. Only then did Frankie and George decide to stay. Despite his prejudices, Harry found himself liking Bart. He was funny, in a deadpan sort of way, attentive, in a non-attentive sort of way, and able to get to the point quickly. Harry liked that in a person. Toward the end of the meal, Bart commented on the fine Martian ale.

"The grain comes from hydropods, you know. But the soil underlay!" He held a finger aloft. "There's the real Mars."

George agreed. "They sure make good ale on Mars."

"You're buzzed," Frankie said to George.

"You're not?" George fired back.

Bart ordered three more ales.

"Bart," Kathleen said, "if you get drunk, I'm going to switch you off."

She fell silent for a moment and looked at Bart. "All right," she said, "there. Satisfied?"

Bart crinkled his nose and smiled, then fell into conversation with George.

Kathleen turned to Harry.

Harry was still confused, not at all comfortable with the situation. "So," he said, "how long have you two been together?"

Kathleen looked taken aback. "You mean Bart and me? Oh, like I said, since graduate school; four, going on five years."

"No. I mean how long have you been together? You know, together?"

Kathleen looked at Harry for a long moment, then put a hand on the back of his neck and gave him a gentle shake. "You just don't get it, do you?"

"I'm trying," Harry said.

Someone, the redhead who'd left with Edward, came up behind Kathleen and tapped her on the shoulder. Kathleen turned around. "Oh, Harry, this is Doris."

Doris gave Harry a quick look. "How do you do, Harry?" She turned back to Kathleen. "Kathleen, may I have a word with you?"

"Yes, of course." Kathleen stood and walked a short distance away. The two women talked for a moment and Doris left. Kathleen returned, looking unhappy."

"Anything wrong?" Harry asked.

"No, everything's all right. Listen, I have a few things to do before the announcement. I'll see you later."

Harry wanted to ask if he could help, maybe tag along, but at that moment an announcement was made requesting all applicants to gather in the auditorium. It was time. The selections were about to be made public.

Harry looked after Kathleen, but she was gone. She hadn't wished him luck.

Chapter 6

Harry, Bart, Frankie, and George dropped into their seats.

"Where's Kath?" Bart asked, concern in his voice.

"She's around somewhere."

"She knows better than to run off and leave me untended."

"Is she your mom, man?"

Bart glared at Frankie and fell into silence. The lights dimmed and Mr. Thanopolous approached the podium.

"Greetings, corporate candidates. We have finally reached the moment you've all been waiting for. The new Braithwaite Foundation space survey teams have been chosen."

The audience burst into shouts and applause.

Mr. Thanopolous nodded and smiled. This time he allowed the audience noise to die down of its own accord. It took a full thirty seconds. He leaned closer to the small microphone set on the dais. "Do I detect anticipation in the air?" Again, the crowd burst into applause.

His smile broadened and he raised his hands for quiet. "Okay, okay," he said. "Without any further ado, let's get started."

"This year, the Braithwaite Foundation is happy to announce the need for twenty new survey teams." Harry's heart leaped. This was better than he'd expected; previously he'd understood that fourteen teams would be selected. His chances had increased by six.

Thanopolous continued. "Each survey team comprises eight members, each of whom is a mission specialist in a primary field. In addition to the selected teams, a pool of alternates has also been selected to step in for any candidates who are unable to fulfill the team requirements. We will proceed by announcing the names of the new survey teams. As each team is announced, the names will be displayed on the screen behind me.

After this session is over, those of you whose names are announced will please go to the specified areas and meet your fellow team members. Alternates will gather in the lobby and attend a short briefing. For the rest of you, do not be overly distressed. Braithwaite will be happy to recommend you to competing corporations."

"Now," Thanopolous smiled, "the moment has arrived." The audience fell silent. Thanopolous looked at a small monitor built into the top of the dais.

"Survey Team number eighty-eight..." Thanopolous began reading a list of names. At the eighth name, he stopped and looked at the screen behind him. The names were displayed in large block letters. The members of the first team had been announced and Harry wasn't among them.

Well, Harry thought, there's still plenty of room. Nineteen to go.

Thanopolous announced the member names of the next team, and then the next. Harry wasn't among those either.

In a short time, Thanopolous was up to the sixteenth team. Harry was getting nervous. As the man announced the members for the sixteenth team, Harry recognized Kathleen's name as it was spoken, as well as Edward Fagen, Dr. Bartholeme Blane, Dr. Charles Parker, and others whose names Harry didn't recognize. Harry wasn't one of them.

Stunned, he sat in silence as the audience applauded each time a name was announced.

In short work, all twenty teams had been announced. In vain, Harry searched for his own name among those on the big screen, but Harry Irons was conspicuously absent.

"Now," Thanopolous said, "I will reveal the names of the twenty alternates." He read from his monitor, one name after another. Finally, far into the list, he spoke Harry's name.

Frankie and George wildly beat their hands together. Bart, plugged into a pleasure disk, seemed to pay no attention. It was a shallow victory for Harry. Alternate selections were throwaways, part-time employees whose employment with the Foundation ended when the teams successfully left Earth orbit. After all his hard work and years of preparation, Harry had failed.

He was so depressed he didn't notice when Bart took his leave. Frankie tugged at Harry's sleeve. "Better get to your meeting, Harry."

"What? Oh sure."

"We'll meet you tonight. Big party, right?"

"Sure, sure," Harry responded absently and pulled himself from his seat.

The meeting for the alternates was brief. Chances for an assignment were slim, but it did occasionally happen. In any case, the group of young, disappointed people were told their names would probably be picked up by another corporation sometime in the next year. It didn't do much to buoy their spirits. Afterwards, Harry went home.

He gave his mother the bad news. She took it calmly and was more hopeful than Harry. "Anything can happen, Harrison."

Harry wasn't as upbeat as his mother. After turning down food, he descended the steps to his basement room and stared at the ceiling until he heard Frankie and George entering the kitchen. From the tone of their voices, Harry could tell his friends were excited. An evening of Foundation perks awaited them, and the chance to rub elbows with the rich and powerful.

A short time later, the three bade farewell to Mrs. Irons and left the tenement.

Had they been selected for a survey team, they would have had the services of a private Foundation limousine, and been picked up outside their doors by a luxury aircar, then delivered to the top floor of the Braithwaite 99-story executive office building. But that was not to be. Instead of looking forward to a lucrative contract and a career with the Corporation, they were the same as they had been the day before: three guys without a solid future, looking for diversion, waiting for a public bus.