Article 23 (6 page)

The sound of the alarm bell, the warning of depressurization, grew fainter as the air thinned, and then there was silence except for the low hum from his suit pump and a whisper of static in his headset.

"By the numbers, check off."

Justin scanned the LCD all functions were nominal, and he waited until the roll call was complete.

Barker opened the inner airlock door and led the way into the docking bay. He pointed out a tug and ordered the group to scramble aboard and strap in.

Justin eyed the craft cautiously. It was designed for short range ship to ship operations; the tug was really nothing more than a titanium girder a dozen meters long, with five-hundred-pound thrust engines mounted on either end, and smaller hundred-
pounder
thrusters mounted to fire along the Y- and Z-axes. A fuel tank was located amidships, and a chair for the pilot was at one end. Bucket seats lined either side of the girder down its length, and the seats could be snapped off to be replaced by hold-downs for cargo containers. There was no hull; everything was fully exposed to the vacuum of space.

For this run two canisters packed with spare parts for their destination were mounted above the fuel tank. Barker walked down the length of his ship, giving it a thorough pre-flight and double-checking that each cadet was strapped in. Justin settled into the chair directly behind Barker, and turned to watch as he powered the system up.

The outer airlock door opened. Barker gave a short burst of power to the stern engine and the tug lurched forward. While the tug was nosing out of the bay, Justin looked up relative to the rotational axis of the ship, becoming momentarily disoriented as he saw the center of the ship above him. The angular momentum imparted by the ship's rotation caused the tug to fall outward or upward relative to the central axis of the ship as it cleared the dock, the one-tenth gravity instantly replaced by the stomach lurch of free fall.

Barker expertly conned the tug, rolling it over and lining up on his target, Habitat Franciscan Three, which hovered like a white pencil just above Orion's belt. Justin gulped hard, trying to ignore the momentary flutter in his stomach.

"Everyone all right?"
Barker asked.

There were no replies and Justin silently wondered if any of his comrades were worried about getting sick, what would happen if the fuel tank ruptured, or any of a hundred other prospects that could certainly ruin someone's day.

"It's a straight-out run," Barker announced. "Forty-two minutes, so hang on while I power up."

Now clear of the Academy, Barker gave the tug full throttle and Justin felt the slight kick of the engine straining against the several tons of mass it was pushing. Looking back he saw the Academy, silhouetted by the Moon. Forty-five degrees off was Earth, with
North America shimmering under the noonday sun. He clicked on his faceplate magnifier; as he powered it up to maximum,

Earth appeared to leap towards him. A front of clouds was drifting across the
Midwest. Most likely by sunset, he thought, there'll be a line of thunderstorms rolling through
Indiana
. A touch of homesickness hit him. He loved that time of day, when the air became still, hushed, the sky overhead darkening and then the first faint cool breeze swirling in from the west to break the humid heat. The slanting rays of the evening sun would disappear behind the towering thunderheads and then the storm would come lashing in, chilling the evening air.

He clicked the magnifier off and looked back at the Academy. They were starting to pick up speed; the Academy ship was already smaller.

Everything was silent, stark, highlighted by the brilliant glare of the sun. Yet all he had to do was put his hand up to block the streaming light and the stars appeared on either side of his hand.

Again it started to catch him; he remembered the lyrical stories of his father and grandfather. They talked about the early days of space exploration at the beginning of the 21st century, when humanity finally set itself the goal of reaching for the stars.

And I'm part of this now, he thought. Fearful as I am of it all, still I am part of it. He wondered if his father, too, had been afraid of the simplest things at first; whether he would get sick in zero gravity, if he was nagged by the anxiety that something would go wrong and bring him to a terrible end. And pulling a Hansen that was a dread as well. I might someday screw up, and then the honored name of my father would be eclipsed by the foolishness of his son.

The engine finally cut off and he felt himself floating in his chair although he was strapped in, arms and legs lifting up. It felt peculiarly pleasant out there with the vastness of the universe encircling him.

His grandfather and he would sit on the back porch and gaze up at the night sky while they listened to Hoist's Planets. He imagined his favorite piece, "
Neptune," playing softly as he gazed out upon the pearly glow of the Milky Way. Out here, at least for the moment, all of the clinical study, the number crunching, classes,
late
hours of study, the hazing and harsh discipline were forgotten. The music played in his head; there was a quiet soothing
rapture
to it all, a timeless sense of floating through eternity. He found it strangely hypnotic, and his thoughts drifted and floated out across space.

"Hard dock!"

Startled, Justin jerked upright in his chair; had it not been for the seatbelt he would have vaulted right off the side of the ship.

He looked ahead, surprised by the massive bulk of the habitat now blocking the view. The tug was anchored to a beam projecting from an airlock door and Barker cautiously stood up, reaching for a guideline.

"All right, people. Listen sharply now. Unbuckle, stand up slowly, and be sure to grab the guideline I don't want to have to undock and go chasing around after you. If you do float free don't use your unit thrusters; we're too close in and you fools would most likely wind up banging into something.
Bell,
Leonov
, wait for the others to pass then give me a hand with the canisters.

"The rest of you, go through decontamination, leave your suits, and you've got two hours liberty. I want you suited up and ready to go at 1530 standard."

Justin clicked an acknowledgment and waited while the rest of his platoon reached out for the walkway, then carefully descended to the open, waiting airlock.

Justin saw Matt turn back and wave. Darn, his buddy obviously was not going to wait.

Barker came aft, motioning for Justin to follow him. Bracing his feet on the walkway Barker leaned over,
undipped
the tie downs and handed a canister to Justin. It had several hundred pounds of mass to it and Justin handled it gingerly. He knew that if he jerked it too hard it would be very difficult to stop and might cause him to lose his own foothold.

He waited for Barker to hand the second canister to Tanya,
then
they followed the senior cadet's lead as they slowly moved along the walkway. They made sure each sticky-bottom boot was firmly locked onto the surface before lifting the other one.

Justin breathed a sigh of relief as they passed through the airlock door and it swung shut. Seconds later he heard the ringing of the alarm bell signaling pressurization. The light over the door to the ship flashed green to indicate equalization of pressure, and they followed Barker into the suit-up room.

After double-checking to make sure pressure inside his suit was equalized with internal ship pressure, Justin unsnapped his helmet and took it off.

"Good work, you two," Barker announced. "Don't like chasing plebes or supply canisters when we're visiting neighbors it's embarrassing!"

"Sir, why didn't we just dock inside? It would have been a lot easier."

"Practice, cadet do it the hard way.
Had to make this little trip worth something besides a romp aboard a passing habitat."

Barker peeled out of his suit and hung it up in a locker. Justin could not help but give a surreptitious look over at Tanya as she wiggled out of her suit and brushed an errant wisp of hair back from her face.

"Ah, the supplies!"

Justin looked up and started at the appearance of the elderly rotund man, dressed in the brown habit of the ancient order of Franciscans, who came into the room. The monk was filled with good cheer, delighted by the sight of the canisters. He patted them affectionately.

Barker drew himself to attention. Justin and Tanya followed suit.

"I'm Brother Bartholomew.
Now, no need for formality.
You children over at the Academy, always so formal.
Glad to have some youngsters drop by for a visit. One of the boys told me you can only stay a couple of hours."

"Yes, sir," Barker replied stiffly. "Have to be back for chow and evening classes, sir."

"Well, enjoy the sights wish you could stay longer."

The monk started to hoist the canisters up.

"
Bell,
Leonov
, give the brother a hand."

"No, quite all right, zero gravity here. No problem at all."

"Where are you lugging them to, sir?"

"Ah, just to quarter gravity, but fine, you two can tote them if you want."

Justin obediently took one canister from the brother's hand and Tanya took the other. Barker motioned for them to follow the monk who led the way through the decontamination room, where they and the canisters were quickly scanned by the ship's computer for any threatening microbes. Once cleared, the monk led the way out of the zero-gee area, ascending the flight of steps that led to the
gravitized
region of the rotating sphere. Justin saw Barker turn and head off in the opposite direction. Justin wondered what delights he and Tanya might be missing but continued to follow the monk without complaint.

"How long have you youngsters been with the service?"

"We're first-year plebes, sir," Tanya replied.

" 'Brother
Bartholomew,' please.
Or just 'Brother Bart.'
"

Justin looked over at the rotund monk. Such a sight was rather out of the ordinary in
Indiana
, and his own Presbyterian upbringing had rarely brought him into contact with genuine monks.

"I have a great-aunt aboard an Orthodox nunnery," Tanya volunteered.

"Ah, Russian then?"

"Yes, sir, I mean, 'Brother.'"

'Tour name?"

"
Leonov
."

Bartholomew broke into a grin.
"Illustrious name.
Any relation?"

"Yes, Brother.
My great-grandfather was the first man to walk in space."

"An honor, then," Bartholomew announced. "We must celebrate."

He continued to lead the way upstairs, and the burden in Justin's hands grew heavier. He could only hope that they would arrive soon. Fortunately, they stopped just then and turned into a side corridor.

Justin had to suppress a gasp of astonishment.

The corridor was like the interior of an ancient gothic cathedral. Soaring arches joined overhead; the spaces where stained glass windows would have been on Earth were covered instead with high-stress
plastishielding
so that the wonders of space lit the chamber. Justin looked at a small chapel set into a niche. Earthlight shone through the window, revealing a row of monks who were softly chanting a service. As Brother Bartholomew passed he genuflected and made the sign of the cross. Tanya followed suit, making the Orthodox cross, and Justin awkwardly nodded. He stood paused in silent awe, listening to the medieval plain chant echoing in the corridor. He was stunned by the timelessness of it, as if a chapel hovering in high orbit was as it always had been.

Bartholomew motioned for them to follow and he stepped back into the stairwell.

"Always like to show that off to our visitors," Bartholomew offered by way of explanation as he bounded up to the next level and motioned for his two bearers to follow.

The next corridor had a uniquely different charm. This one was open as the first, with a soaring arched ceiling, but here the long chamber was planted with trees. Overarching branches heavy with apples, peaches and pears canopied the lengthy curving hallway. Monks wearing plain brown tunics tended the crop; Justin stepped to one side as a small electric crate rolled past pulling a wagon piled high with fruit. Bartholomew pulled out a couple of apples from the crate and tossed them to his companions.

Justin was delighted. On the farm back home they had several acres of apple trees and at any time of year it was fun to walk through the orchard, but he especially enjoyed it at harvest time when the air was heavy with the scent of ripening fruit.

He rubbed the apple on his tunic as he walked, admiring the shine before biting into it.

"Yellow Delicious," Justin announced, "my favorite."

"We grow half a dozen varieties here. There's another deck for subtropical fruit and one for tropical. Some wonderful blends come out of them."

"Blends?"

"You'll see."