Fiction
Science Fiction
Edge-on, the giant disk of the Spinning Parasol spread a heavenly net, poised to catch the blue globe of the hanging Earth.
Lost against its vastness, the Green Lotus was a metallic speck glinting in the sun. Xiao-Dan grinned. “Liang, you look like a tiny grasshopper perched on a silver leaf.”
“This is no time for poetry.” The voice from Coordination Center crackled like broken glass. “A gigawatt of power is at stake.”
So humorless, Jiu-Quan. “Relax and doubts will float away.” Xiao-Dan moved a lever. A slight tug, and another light blinked green as the last axis segment locked into place. “The extension is secure.”
“Ready on my side as well.” Liang sounded right next to him rather than kilometers away. “Xiao-Dan, will you do the honors?”
“I’ll pull, you snap and tuck.” Automated grapplers on Xiao-Dan’s ship reached for the leading end of the solar film, mated with the border openings. A faint vibration shook the craft as green lights congratulated him.
“Pulling mechanism engaged.” Coordination never missed a chance to point out the obvious. But then, they all would rather be up here.
“Thank you, Jiu-Quan. Starting pull.” A minimal firing of his thrusters, and the Yellow Lotus began unrolling the kilometer-long stack of solar film that had been spooled inside the axis. “Liang, let me know if I’m going too fast. Can you keep up with five kilometers per hour?”
“Panting breathlessly after you, Xiao-Dan.” Liang’s ship was tracing a straight line parallel to his. One hundred meters, and the twenty-layered film had been stretched fully. Now the Yellow Lotus continued pulling the bottom nineteen layers, while Liang secured the first one along its thin but almost indestructible carbon nanotube edge. When all layers were deployed, they would anchor the forward edge, bringing two more square kilometers of solar power online.
Xiao-Dan rose from his seat for a better look through his porthole. His screen offered higher resolution and magnification, but seeing the hovering Earth with his own eyes was different. Over the Parasol’s edge, clouds were moving off Southern China, exposing aqua blue.
“One glance finds all of heaven and earth.
What pleasures can compare with these?”
“Quit quoting Tao Yuanming while I’m working, Xiao.” The smile in Liang’s voice eased the gruff words. “Hey, how’s your daughter?”
“Li-Ling? More beautiful than a flower. Her eyes are endless. She wanted to come up with me.” Someday she would. Xiao-Dan turned back to his controls. A bit under a kilometer to go.
The screen and all indicators flashed. Xiao-Dan scanned his displays. “That was odd! I may have an electrical glitch.”
“Readings here are in order. What’s going on?” Coordination sounded as if they suspected a prank.
“Probably nothing. My screens flashed, but now all looks okay.” He had drifted about two meters below the plane of the Parasol. The tension on the film was well within norms, but he might as well adjust. He dialed in the minimal pitch adjustment, entered it—
The ceiling hit him like the knotted fist of a kung-fu master. Blotchy spots swam in front of his eyes and for a second the world went black.
“Xiao-Dan, cut your thrusters!” Liang’s voice was shrill.
Dazed, Xiao-Dan pushed himself down. He hit the control to disengage power, but there was no response. Through the porthole he saw the newly installed portion of the solar collector film already ripped, but the nanotube edges were holding. Like a mighty moth, the Yellow Lotus was dragging the giant Parasol with it.
“They won’t respond.” He brushed wetness from his eyes, saw it was blood. The room started spinning again.
“Yellow Lotus, disengage!” Jolted by the cry from Coordination, Xiao-Dan hit the release button for the grapplers. Gravity slammed him to the floor. The Earth drifted out of the Plexiglas window, and all became black.
NASA Controller Marsha Reynolds saw doubt cloud her daughter’s face, framed in her side screen like a dimmed sun. “You will be home tomorrow, right, Mommy?”
“Yes, Kate. Just as I promised.” Marsha beamed her most reassuring smile. “We’ll spend a long Christmas at home, and then on to Disney World—you, Daddy, and me.”
Kate’s face relaxed, blue eyes dancing under honey-colored bangs. “And we’ll go on the Ride of the Galaxies?”
Marsha’s main screen flashed, indicating an emergency important enough to interrupt a family call. “Of course. I’ll call you later, okay, honey? Mommy’s got some work.”
She switched channels. The familiar interior of the space station filled her screen. Her neck tensed at the sight of Lee Brown’s grim face. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s been a disaster on the Spinning Parasol.”
“What?” Adding a segment was routine for the Chinese. “Explain.”
“This was recorded ten minutes ago.” The screen split. On the left, under high magnification, spread the huge, uneven-edged disk of the Spinning Parasol. It always reminded her of the alien death ray machine from that ’50s movie, The Mysterians, with its giant outer disk and tilted internal microwave-beam generating plate. Two tiny dots, Lotus ships no doubt, moved glacially at nine o’clock on the far edge.
There was a bright flash behind the outermost dot. “Is that—”
But no, there were no explosion signs. “Don’t tell me he fired thrusters!”
“Watch.” The brightness continued. There might have been motion, impossible to tell at this distance. Then the far dot started moving. The glare of its jets was obvious. It picked up speed, moving out into space. Marsha calculated mentally. The Parasol was ten miles across, and in two seconds he’d moved about...
“He’s doing three or four G’s. My God, if he was pulling that whole time—”
“Yep.” Lee Brown nodded. “The Spinning Parasol has started a slow tumble.”
“Holy crap.” Marsha had risen and was moving as she spoke. “Lee, I’m going to the Auxiliary Center. Hook a channel there.” She hit her earphone as she strode out the room. “Standby team, take your stations, ASAP. There’s a situation on Spinning Parasol. A craft...” She briefed them as she rushed down the long, glass-lined corridor of NASA’s new offices.
Four stations were already manned by the time she entered the Command room. She took her place at the central desk. “Jimmy, I want Spinning Parasol on left. Kayla, find me the Chinese ship that started the problem. Patch data from all feeds, and plot me a trajectory, put that on center. All space assets, regardless of nationality, from geo-stationary out to the moon, go on right.” More footsteps rushed in. “Comm, put calls into Jiu-Quan.”
The pieces of the puzzle started appearing as her crew worked. The Chinese ship still on the Parasol— identified as the Green Lotus—was attempting some type of steadying maneuver. Fortunately the Parasol had shut off its microwave broadcast immediately, so the only damage on Earth would be blackouts in Northern China. The errant Yellow Lotus was still under maximum thrusters, headed into deep space.
The right screen confirmed what she knew. From geo-stationary orbit on out, the only NASA asset was the Traveler, successor to the venerable Orion, a quarter of the way to Moonbase. Much nearer to the moon, the Euro-Russian Yarkaya Zvezda, ion-powered, inched outwards on its slow supply ferry for their Star-Reach project on L2.
Her earphone chimed. “Jiu-Quan requests a private scrambled connection, Marsha.”
She started walking towards one of the two enclosed cubicles. “In room 42-C.” She closed the door behind her. On screen was a middle-aged impassive face.
“This is Coordination Center at Jiu-Quan.”
“Hello, this is Marsha Reynolds, NASA Mission Controller. We saw the accident on your solar power station, and would like to extend what help we can.”
“Thank you, NASA, for your gracious offer.” His small, narrow eyes didn’t blink. “The minor technical problem with the Spinning Parasol is well under control. Power transmission will be reestablished within days. There is no need... Excuse me.” The sound went dead, as the responder looked past her and his lips moved. There was a pause, some exchange off-screen, then the sound was activated again. “I apologize for the interruption. Please hold.”
The official representative blinked out, replaced by a face she recognized very well. “Colonel Shang.”
“Hello, Ms. Reynolds.” Age had wrinkled the face of China’s multi-honored astronaut, but had not diminished the liquid charm of his gaze. “I would like to informally brief you on some details that remain officially unconfirmed. I believe your term is ‘off-the-record.’”
Marsha nodded. “Understood.”
“Our accident on the Spinning Parasol is a major setback, but we will handle it. My immediate concern is the Yellow Lotus. We are getting faint signals from the life-support equipment. The oxygen consumption rate tells us our astronaut is alive, but unconscious.”
“Alive? That’s great news.”
“Except we have no way to reach him and bring him back. His air system appears to have a slow leak. We expect it to be exhausted in under two days—worse if he wakens and starts consuming at a higher rate.”
“How can we help?”
“Your Traveler might be able to reach him. Unfortunately, I do not have the authority to make an official request, and I’m afraid by the time it’s made, if ever, it will be too late for the cold equations of orbits and trajectories.” His eyes locked with hers. “But I thought that the first woman to walk the moon would understand how it is out there.”
How magnificent, how deadly, and how lonely. Marsha nodded. “I can promise nothing, except that I will try to help.”
“Thank you. The absence of a firm ‘no’ is all I had hoped for. My gratitude, Commander.”
Marsha exited back into the Auxiliary Center. “Any change?”
“The Yellow Lotus has stopped firing,” said Jimmy. Dark, the errant craft was too far to see, but its trajectory had been plotted, velocity as well. Thirty miles per sec. “Maybe Jiu-Quan regained control.”
Marsha shook her head. “No, he’s been firing full-blast for over twenty minutes. Probably ran out of fuel.” And soon out of chances, unless NASA moved, and fast. “How long will it take for the Traveler to intercept?”
Jimmy bent over his station. The results flashed on the screen. Forty-six hours.
“If he goes after Xiao-Dan, how long till he can no longer resume the Moon Mission?”
“I figured you’d want that next. If he turns now, about twenty-four hours.”
“Very well. Have Moon Center alter the Traveler’s course for an intercept of the Yellow Lotus. We can always countermand later. Send any updates to my office. I need to brief the Director.”
Jake Jones, NASA Director, inspected the picture his camera was about to transmit. Blue necktie and crisp collar, bushy silver hair brushed back. No jacket. A man at work, but in total control. Just the type of man the President would trust.
His secretary’s voice came through the speaker. “The President in ten seconds, sir.” The screen counted the seconds down. Just like a launch. At zero, the numbers were replaced by the familiar background of the Oval Office.
President Strasser spoke. “Howdy, Jake. Good job on the Traveler liftoff yesterday. Caught it on TV just before bed.”
Jake nodded. “Thank you, Mr. President.”
“So.” Blue eyes burned under the President’s wide forehead. “Is this about the accident on the Chinese station that CNN is about to air?” He grinned. “My aides are good at watching TV—even before it happens.”
Jake nodded. “Yes, sir.” He spent the next few minutes relating Marsha’s briefing. When he was done, the President leaned back.
“So, other than expressing concern for the Chinese setback, the real issue here is whether we should help rescue their astronaut. What’s the downside?”
“Aborting the Traveler mission. I will need extra funds for an unmanned mission to resupply Moonbase, and at current budget levels it will be one year before the crew there can be relieved. They could use their emergency Orion craft to return, but under NASA protocols we would then have to shutter Moonbase.”
“Well, there you are, then, Jake. We’re not risking Moonbase, and don’t ever mention a temporary shutdown, or Congress will make it permanent. As for additional funds, I’m afraid the trend is the other way.” The President scratched his chin, an air of faint distaste on his face. “An uncomfortable situation, though. It would be so much simpler if the Traveler couldn’t quite effect the rescue.”
Jake pursed his lips. “Preliminary estimates indicate it might. The numbers are...open to interpretation.”
The President lifted an eyebrow. “Well, disagreements between NASA engineers are common. It comes to the man at the top.”
Jake straightened. “Yes sir. I’ll handle my scientists and the media.”
President Strasser smiled. “I know I can rely on you, Jake.”
Xiao-Dan stood in the middle of a grassy plain, lit only by moonlight. Around him shadows layered the world in ebony. Above beckoned the moon.
Before my bed, the moon is shining bright,
I think that it is frost upon the ground.
I raise my head and look at the bright moon,
I lower my head and think of home.
Home. Where was home? Xiao-Dan lifted his arms and floated towards the moon. Light as a bird, no, lighter. Weightless.
As in space. His eyes popped open. He was floating in darkness, but the grassy plain was gone. Moonlight drifted through a porthole, illuminating dark controls. But the moon was small, too small.
Memory rushed back, accompanied by panic. In space. He was adrift in space, speeding into nothingness on a dead ship. Li-Ling! Hopelessness suffocated him as he realized he’d never again hear her voice.
Reflecting on heaven and earth eternal,
Tears flowing down I lament in loneliness.
Lament wouldn’t help. It was cold, but not freezing. Something must be working. Xiao-Dan felt for the tool drawer, took out a flashlight. The bright beam encouraged him. He inspected his face in the vanity mirror. A deep gash over the eye that had stopped bleeding, and a big bruise on his forehead. The flashlight illuminated small balls of blood, red marbles floating in the cabin. He could worry about all that later.
He needed to get power back. Fuel might be all gone, but the batteries should be good. Xiao-Dan checked with a circuit tester, traced and repaired a damaged wire. The lights came on and he switched them off. Better conserve. Most of the command console, including the computer, was dead, but some indicators were functional, their circuitry independent.
He blanched when he saw his speed vector. Only a Chrysanthemum-class ship could catch him, and the only two were both undergoing modifications. More bad news—oxygen was low. And yet he could feel the ghostly breath of the recycler—some miniature leak? A micrometeorite that had sliced right through hull and electronics would explain a lot.
Well, he could find that. Xiao-Dan cracked an ampoule of special gas. In an hour, he would measure its concentration.
Next he checked his comm. The main transmitter was totally dead;only the mission-support data, a separate box, still worked. His receiver was alive, but the antenna was stuck out of position. Faint signals drifted in, unintelligible.
Xiao-Dan shivered and closed his eyes. Time to seek inner calm. He’d done his best. It had been a good life. If he must die, this was as good a place as any.
A faint clicking rattled his contemplation. A signal? He turned to his console. He picked up his headphones, turned the amplification to maximum.
“Hey, Z.” He knew that voice. “Remember me from UCLA? It’s Steve Branford on the NASA Traveler. If you hear me, buddy, hold on. I should be there in forty hours.”
A rescue? It couldn’t be, but... Xiao-Dan realized he had been breathing deeply, meditated his pulse down. Calm again, he located the leak tracer. It pinpointed the area over the console as the most probable source. He applied sealant. In an hour, he would measure again. Floating upside down, he unscrewed the access panel housing the guts of the comm system. It had been a long time since he’d touched one, but a working man has hope.
We can clasp the moon in the Ninth Heaven,
And seize turtles deep down in the Five Seas:
Nothing is hard in this world,
If you dare to scale the heights.
Marsha was reviewing the Traveler’s latest logs, when Jake Jones’s face appeared on her screen. The Director looked impeccable as always, but his eyes were as icy as brown can get.
“Commander Reynolds, why has the Traveler changed course?”
“Sir? I explained in my briefing that the Traveler can rescue Xiao-Dan, and nothing else can. Delaying the trajectory modification would reduce our options. I ordered the course change.”
“Commander, I am sure you meant well, but you should have awaited my confirmation. In fact, the rescue mission is not a go. The Traveler carries essential supplies. It cannot be diverted to rescue a corpse.”
“Sir, the oxygen consumption rate indicates he’s alive.”
“That’s not official data.” Jake’s eyes hardened. “Jiu-Quan speaks with many tongues. I understand your concern, but I can’t jeopardize American lives at Moonbase and billions of dollars for a small chance to rescue a man who, if not dead already, may be so by the time we get to him. Not to mention risking the Traveler in an untested docking maneuver.”
“But they can spacewalk even if—”
“And drill their way in? No.” The word shot out. “Commander, I have to think of the crew’s safety, as well as the NASA and American issues at stake.”
Marsha felt the blood drain from her face. “So is it payback? Because they didn’t go in with us on Moonbase?”
There was silence for two seconds, then Jake spoke very calmly. “That was uncalled-for. It is my job to make the hard decisions. The President agrees. That is all.”
Marsha’s screen blanked, to be replaced by the red NASA letters on a spinning galaxy. For the first time, Marsha felt no pride at the sight.
The videophone flashed: “Privileged caller.” Kate’s frown appeared on the screen.
“Mommy! You’re still at work. You said you were coming home!”
Marsha’s lips twitched. “I’ve got to stay one more day, honey. I’ll be home by Christmas Eve, I promise.” By then, one way or another, there would be little she could do.
“That’s what you said last year. You’ll leave Daddy and me alone again.”
“That’s not true, Kate. Something has happened. There was an accident—”
“Yes, the Chinese power station. I don’t care...”
Something snapped inside Marsha. Her voice rose. “Listen to me. Somewhere in China there’s a little girl, half your age. Her daddy is lost in the sky, and I’m trying to bring him home. Can’t you miss me for a day so she doesn’t have to miss him forever?”
Marsha saw anger fight in her daughter’s face with something else. The end result was a mournful pout. “You’ll be home Christmas Eve?”
“If I have to parachute from a plane.”
Kate giggled. “You haven’t done that in a while, mommy. Okay, save the Chinese astronaut and come home for Christmas. Bye.” The screen went blank.
Marsha stared at nothing. Sounded so simple, but how? It had to be the Traveler. If only... Idea barely half-formed, Marsha found her fingers furiously working.
The magnetic grappler brought the space plane to a silky-smooth mating with the Lagoon Nebula airlock. The hull rang with an artificial musical tone, signaling the completion of the ascent.
Elke Johansson spoke in her microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, your Captain welcomes you to the Lagoon Nebula Resort. We hope you had a pleasant flight. Luggage will be automatically transferred to your rooms. Please keep your emergency inflatable helmets throughout your stay. Decompression is extremely unlikely, but we want you to be safe. Enjoy your stay with Space Resorts, where everything is free, and we’ll see you at the completion of your visit.”
She cut off the mike. Phew. Four hours to relax, and then another flight down. She rose out of her seat and stopped in her tracks as Earth came into view. Even after hundreds of trips, it was impossible to be indifferent to the sprawl of the world beneath, the long curve of the horizon, blues and whites and browns blending in frozen motion.
Her private phone rang. The heads-up display showed an unexpected caller, floating ghostlike outside her window. “Marsha! Whassup, Earthworm?” She dialed in the cabin camera. “Miss the view?”
“You call that space?” Marsha’s retort brought a grin to Elke’s face. “You should rename it Atmospheric resorts. I sneeze higher.”
“Now I know you’re jealous.” Elke opened the cabin door and shoved herself through. The last of the passengers were going through the airlock, gawking at the view through the all-around glass. She smiled professionally and waved at them. In her mike, she said, “So is everything alright? How’s Kate?”
There was the briefest pause, then Marsha said, “We’re both great. But there’s a reason for my call. It’s about the Yellow Lotus.”
“Xiao-Dan?” The smile left Elke’s face. She shot through the airlock, hopped into a traveling magnetic chair, dialed pilot quarters. “I know we’re sending ships to help the Chinese with the Spinning Parasol, but we’ve nothing that can reach the Yellow Lotus, Marsha. From all I know the Traveler is the one possibility.”
“I can get the Traveler there, but I must find some way to replace its mission. Moonbase needs its supplies. I was wondering if you guys had something ready to go, and how much you’d charge—”
“Charge? By your standards, we charge next-to-nothing.” Space Resorts was a relatively low-budget operation. Why, you could now get a suborbital flight for five thousand dollars and a weekend at the Lagoon Nebula for under a mil! It cost NASA that much to get a weather report. “But our L1 craft is still getting the kinks worked out, and it was never meant to land on the moon, just get to the planned Lagrangian resort.”
Marsha’s eyes, now superimposed on the space view from the giant windows of the corridor, closed. “I know. I’m grasping at straws. Never mind.”
“No, wait.” Elke bit her lower lip. “What about the Euro-Russian craft? The Yarkaya Zvezda? They’re carrying supplies for their interstellar project. Can’t you hire them as a moon ferry?”
“It would never be approved.”
“Yeah, you guys and the Russians haven’t been friendly since they withdrew from the ISS.” A breakup that had been good for both sides. Elke thought furiously. “Marsha, leave me a direct callback number. Just in case I can do something.”
Elke stopped the chair, engaged the magnetic field on her boots. She slid to the door of her cubicle, which parted obligingly. Ignoring the rumble in her stomach, she bypassed the galley and sat in front of her screen. A small twinge of apprehension tickled her stomach. It wasn’t every day she got to call the Boss.
The chime of her phone roused Marsha. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at the flashing time under the logo. Three PM. Couldn’t have dozed more than an hour. She pressed the reply button.
Sleep was banished as Elke’s face filled the screen, eyes of blue ice, excited tension animating her mouth.
Marsha snapped wide awake. “You got something?”
Elke nodded. “Yes. The Yarkaya Zvezda has changed course towards the moon. Of course, whether it continues will depend on whether the Traveler changes its mission, so NASA will have to agree. But they have most everything Moonbase needs.”
“And what’s the price tag?”
Elke’s eyes shone triumphant. “That’s the great part, Marsha. There’s no price tag. No cost to the U.S. at all.”
Marsha pinched herself under her desk. “But how—”
“Space Resorts made some deal with the Euro-Russian program. I think the Boss took a personal interest. I don’t know all the details. But will NASA cooperate?”
“I can’t see how not. This is fantastic. You’re fantastic. I better get going here. Talk to you soon.” Marsha felt a surge of energy. Yes! She pulled out a comb, ran it through her hair once, then dialed the director’s office.
As always, Jake Jones appeared to have stepped out of a boutique. He raised an impassive face. “Commander Reynolds?”
She related Elke’s news, and filled in the details about the Euro-Russian cargo. “—so they’ll be there no more than three days after the Traveler was due.” She came to an abrupt stop as she realized the only change in his facial expression had been a narrowing of the eyes.
“Why are you telling me all this, Commander?”
“Sir?” Jones wasn’t that dumb. “The Traveler can now...”
“The Traveler will go to the moon as scheduled. I gave orders four hours ago to revert its course. An order you should have given earlier.”
“Four hours?” She ran a rough calculation in her mind. Was it already too late? “If we countermand...”
“We will not countermand.” Jake leaned forward. “Commander, NASA can’t be jumping left and right because of rumored agreements that we have no means of enforcing. What will happen if I abort the Traveler mission and the Russians blow us off again? Who’ll pay for the billions of another launch? Whom shall I let go? What project will I kill?
“Sir—”
“No. It’s too late anyway. I regret the Chinese astronaut’s loss. But this is not subject to discussion. Commander, it’s two days to Christmas. You’re overdue for a vacation. You look like you need it. Take it. Jones out.”
Marsha’s hands had curled into claws and she straightened them with effort. Loss, she understood. Space was risky. But to sit and watch when she could help...
She paced her office like a declawed tiger. Logos everywhere, on the walls, the floor, the desk, the screen, visible through the window. Meaning so different things to different people. For Jones, it was the ‘N’, standing for National. For her, it had always been the ‘S’, for space. Space, larger than any nation.
And Xiao-Dan’s resting place. Unless she could act. Marsha called the Moon Mission support room. There were always a few people there. “Put me through to Traveler. Secure and encrypted.”
Steve Branford’s face appeared on the screen. There was the customary lag, and then his eyes gathered in a frown. “Marsha. I got course change orders straight from the Director’s office. What’s going on?”
“Nothing yet. Steve, can you still correct to rescue Xiao-Dan and return?” She could hear her own heartbeat pound as she awaited his answer.
“I had to keep a trajectory consistent with reaching Moonbase, so I’ll need a countermand no later than in a couple of hours, depending on his exact position.”
Marsha blinked. Better than she’d feared. “Two hours? With that course correction four hours ago I thought you’d have lost that.”
“Ah, yes, that course correction.” Steve’s left cheek dented inwards. “The exact details came in a bit jumbled, Marsha. I think there was some sort of solar flare. I have a request for a confirmation, but I saw no need to send it, as long as I can resume the Moonbase mission.” He looked away. “Still, unless someone countermands, Z will run out of time soon.”
“Z?”
“Xiao-Dan. We knew each other in college.”
Marsha nodded. “Then I better work on getting you that order. Steve, if you don’t hear from me again, Merry Christmas.”
“Hey, you too, lady. You too. Traveler out.”
The screen had barely cleared when Marsha dialed again. She smiled as she saw the curly red-and-white three-letter logo appear.
Jake Jones scanned the submitted proposals. He could save time by deleting them unread. When would they all realize how strapped for funds NASA was? Moonbase, Mars project, Space Station. All outlay and no income. Here was a particularly dumb one—effect of weightlessness on cattle mating. See any space farms, cowboy?
The ring was a pleasant distraction. He glanced up, then tensed at the sight of the Presidential seal. He straightened his tie. “Mr. President.”
President Strasser looked decidedly unamused. “Were you surprised at my call?”
“I am not aware of the reason, sir, no.”
“I thought so. Jake, I’m a bit disappointed. I expect you to be briefing me about matters involving NASA and space, rather than my aides who watch CNN.”
Jake swallowed. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Let me inquire...”
“Just listen. Your girl Marsha Reynolds, first-woman-on-the-moon Marsha Reynolds, gave a public interview to CNN less than an hour ago. It appears there’s a plan by the entire world, Space Resorts, Europeans, Russians, Chinese, maybe even Eskimos, to save the Chinese astronaut, using the Traveler. That there’s a shrinking window of time to make the decision. That everyone is moving except for NASA, who has its thumb stuck somewhere.”
“Sir, Marsha is entirely out of line. The window has closed. Not to mention that this is a risky, harebrained scheme—”
“Maybe, but I’ll tell you what else it is. It’s embarrassing to the U.S. and politically damaging to this office, my office, to let a man die, who rightly or wrongly we have publicly stated there’s a chance to save. This is not media speculation to be brushed aside. This is a NASA mission controller of impeccable credentials, with the support of her counterparts everywhere.”
“We will explain she’s mistaken. That there’s been no official—”
“You will do nothing of the kind.” The President rapped his desk. The rap was soft, but Jake felt a ringing slap. “You will immediately approve the Traveler’s rescue attempt. You will state publicly the decision originated with you, and you only took time off to brief me. You will goo and gush in public about how this heralds a new era of space cooperation. And, Jake…”
“Sir.” Jake was glad he couldn’t see his own face. He was sure all the blood had drained out.
“Don’t let yourself be blindsided like that again. Or you’re no use to me.” The President blinked out.
Jake dug his fingers into his forehead for a few seconds, then called his secretary. “I need a full press-conference, immediately.” Without waiting for a reply, he patched in to Moon Control. “Send instructions to Traveler to resume Xiao-Dan rescue trajectory at once. Re-plot it if necessary.” He dialed again. “Jimmy? You’re acting mission director. Take over all projects from Marsha.”
He hung up and waited till the trembling in his hands eased. Marsha Reynolds’s impudence had damaged NASA and his own career—only time would show how badly. He’d make sure it ended her own.
The stubborn light again answered Xiao-Dan’s press of the comm switch with its red lantern of a face. Frustrated, he scratched his head, but only an old memory answered: his mother’s remedy for dealing with her recalcitrant tractor. He gave the side of the open panel a good kick.
In the midst of the ensuing minor rattle, the light flickered amber, then suddenly green. Grinning in triumph, Xiao-Dan put his headphones on and spoke into the mike. “This is Yellow Lotus. Calling NASA Traveler. Steve, can you hear me?’
The reply came quickly. “Z? You fixed the comm? How are you doing?”
The voice was friendly but joyless, shorn of Steve Branford’s trademark enthusiasm. Something tensed inside Xiao-Dan.
“Floating like a twig on an endless river. Should the twig expect a butterfly in—,” Xiao-Dan glanced at his timepiece, “—about twenty-two hours?”
“Oh, I am coming.” The words dropped lifeless.
“Steve, there are clouds in your voice. If there’s a problem, I’d rather know.”
“Just a sec.” The small silence bit like the cold of space. “I cut the signal to just us. Z, you could always read me. Yes, a small problem. Never mind what, but it’s going to be close.” There was a pause. “You may be just a bit too far away. It will be a few hours till I know for sure.”
Beads of cold sweat gathered on Xiao-Dan’s forehead. “I see. What’s your best estimate?”
There was an audible swallow from the other side. “A forty-mile miss. But reaching you is within the margin of error.”
Forty miles, so insignificant on this scale. Xiao-Dan lifted his eyes towards the Earth swimming outside his viewport. Even at this distance, Australia was clear to the naked eye, but clouds covered China—and Li-Ling.
Steve’s agitated voice reached to him. “Z, I’m going to give it all I’ve got. I’ve jettisoned everything. I—I’ll think of something.”
Heaven is high, earth wide; bitter between them flies my sorrow.
Can I dream through the gateway, over the mountain?
Forty miles.
Marsha ducked Kate’s snowball, then lifted up her own threatening white missile. “Had enough?”
Kate straightened her blue woolen cap and brushed sweat off her forehead. Strawberry cheeks glistened. “For today. It’s getting a bit dark. She rushed at Marsha, gave her a tight hug. “I’m so happy you made it back for Christmas Eve, Mommy. You’re going to stay a while, aren’t you?”
“Actually, darling, I can stay quite a bit.” She kept her smile bright. No need for Kate to know that Mommy had been fired, that all the effort she’d set in motion might in the end prove but a giant waste. “Mommy’s not going to work for a while. You’ll get sick of me.”
“Never!”
John came out on the back porch and Marsha waved at her husband. “Hey, come and roll up a snowball; Kate can referee us.”
“What chance would a poor scriptwriter have against a trained astronaut?” He tossed a flat square to Marsha, caught in mid-air. “Your phone. It’s Elke.” He waved at Kate. “Come inside and help Daddy roast marshmallows?”
As Kate ran up the stairs, Marsha flicked on her phone and her friend’s face formed ghostlike over the snow. “Elke! I called you earlier.”
“I’ve been so busy. But I wanted to check in case you know anything more about Xiao-Dan? All the news says is that it’ll be close.”
Marsha grimaced. “NASA’s cut me off completely, but I ran my own sims. By now the Traveler’s had to go on reverse thrusters, and although it’s still closing—I think it’ll just miss.”
Elke’s mouth slackened in shock. “Oh, no.”
“Yeah.” Suddenly bitterness ripped out of her, and she was glad Kate had gone inside. “All the trouble I caused, the cost to NASA, to Space Resorts, all for nothing.”
“Hey, don’t worry about the Boss. He bought the entire Euro-Russian program. We’ll be Galactic Resorts now.” Else attempted a smile, then sobered again. “Marsha—you did the right thing.”
“Did I?”
“Yes. And the Boss did ask that you call him, right after Christmas. Maybe we’ll work together again.”
“I don’t know. I’m getting old for space.” Maybe she’d go back to teaching astrophysics for a few years. Stay close. It’d be good for Kate. “Hey, are you coming tomorrow?”
“Can’t. You’ll see why soon. Marsha, kiss Kate for me. Merry Christmas to all. Bye!”
Elke’s hologram faded, and the evening grew a bit darker. Marsha stared at her now lifeless phone. A faint smell of marshmallows drifted out of the house. Adjusting to a normal life would have its rewards.
Kate shot out the door, her eyes circles of excitement. “Mommy! There’s a TV special about the Chinese astronaut. From the Traveler. Steve Branford is going to spacewalk. Come and watch.”
A spacewalk? Marsha’s eyebrows drew together. Could she have miscalculated? No, she wasn’t that old. “Coming.” She flew up the porch steps in two long strides.
The moon glimmered, three-quarters full. Below—why does the brain seek a direction out here where all are equal?—the Earth floated in the sky. The blue of the Pacific peeked through streaks of clouds, China getting ready to dawn.
Xiao-Dan released his last flare, the light searing even through closed eyelids. When he reopened them, space was dark again. No sign of the Traveler. His suit gauge showed him another ten minutes oxygen remaining. Eight hours in space. A long time to reflect.
I think of Heaven and Earth, without limit, without end,
And I am all alone and my tears fall down.
Could Chen Ziang, in the tiny confines of his dungeon, have dreamt how perfectly alone one would be, caged only by void and silence? He’d cannibalized his suit’s receiver to fix the comm of the Yellow Lotus, and found no time to re-jig it. Three flares had been his only way to mark his path. Two to give Steve a vector, and this, the last.
Had he even come close? Using his suit pack to bridge the distance had been the only hope, each hour of lonely travel shortening the gulf between doom and hope, reaching for Earth’s succoring fingers.
Fingers that in the end wouldn’t quite grasp. Xiao-Dan slowed the oxygen feed once again. The combined effect of lower pressure and tiredness laid iron weights on his eyes. Li-Ling’s visage seemed to float in air, next to a bright star—was that her spirit, or only his own, about to blink out?
He tried to use his magnifiers, but like a sun-drenched traveler, dreaming of an oasis, he couldn’t quite focus.
I seek a sail in the far sky.
Where is the ferry? Will somebody tell me?
It’s growing rough. It’s growing dark.
It was a beautiful clear Christmas Eve, the sky awash with stars. Marshmallows, TV, and dinner all taken care of, Marsha, John and Kate sat at their porch again, eyes on the southern sky.
“Mommy, had you seen Li-Ling before? Xiao-Dan’s daughter? She was so cute with her big eyes and huge pigtail.”
Marsha shook her head, mind a million miles away. “No, sweetie, first time.”
“That was so exciting. I thought my heart would stop when his helmet came off and his eyes blinked. The Traveler is the best ship in the world. And I’m going to marry Steve Branford when I grow up.”
John laughed. “There’s a queue, but nobody on it is as pretty as you. Sounds like a plan. A little eggnog, anyone?”
Marsha had extended her glass, when Kate spoke again. “What’s that star over there? To the right of the neighbors’ chimney. It’s too bright to even be Jupiter.”
Marsha looked up, curiosity perking. Kate was right; that was brighter than even Venus got. What could it... Of course, that’s what Elke had meant. “That’s the Spinning Parasol.”
“But it’s never been so bright.”
“It’s very high, in geosynchronous orbit, and normally it points to the sun. But they’re turning it around.” Exhilaration poured into her, ringing her voice with silver. “It’s the three Space Resorts ships and the second Chinese ship, together pulling it out of its tailspin, back into position.”
Kate reached for Marsha’s arm. “Doesn’t it look like the Star of Christmas?”
Marsha squeezed her daughter’s hand. “That it does, honey. That it does.”
Quoted Chinese poetry snippets by
Tao Yuanming
Li Bai
Chen Ziang
Mao Zedong
Meng Haorang
Click Here for Easy-to-Read B&W Format
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Copyright 2010, Stelios Touchtidis. All rights reserved. Stelios Touchtidis is a transplanted Greek, happily married to a Russian lady. An engineer by training, he lives in sunny Southern California, works in software development, and pursues his hobbies of history, astronomy and science. He's recently published his first story.
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