sighed. “I suppose the consolation is that we would all have schools named after us.”
Mathew had barely left the room when one of the tourists came through the door without knocking. Andrew couldn’t remember the name but there was a heavy European accent.
"You are sending the spaceship back home?"
Andrew couldn’t imagine how the man had assumed. "It is being considered," he said truthfully.
"Then want to be a passenger."
"I'm sure many people want to get back to the surface, but it's not that easy."
The man took it to be an invitation. "I have money; how much do you want. I will be a passenger."
"It's not about money." Andrew felt slighted; he'd never been offered a bribe before and wasn’t sure how to reject the offer.
The man took Andrews words as a bargaining ploy. "Amount is not a problem; when will it leave?"
If had not been sure before, he was now. "It was a considered, but the shuttle isn’t going anywhere; it’s needed here."
The man sneered. "I said I pay: no more argue; how much?" he said threateningly.
"There is no amount to discuss; I said the shuttle is needed here; it will not be returning to Earth, do I make myself clear?" Andrew said firmly.
"If I am not on board when it leaves I will instruct my company to take every Kopec you have."
Andrew tried to stay calm. "If there is nothing else would please close the door as you leave."
The encounter left a bitter taste, and during the following hour Andrew repeated the discussion several more times: with added inducements beyond mere cash, the last shocking him. It was one of the Silicon Valley men; when the man at last realized he couldn’t buy passage he appeared to change the subject. “I saw you looking at my wife?”
Andrew had hoped he hadn’t been noticed. “Looking at her; I look at all our guests… it would be impolite not to…” It sounded pathetic so he stopped.
“It was the way she was looked at that is the problem?”
Andrew was feeling very uncomfortable. “I’m not sure what you mean?” But he did.
“I know men, and I know that look.”
“If there is nothing else I have the station to run?” Andrew turned his back on the man, hoping the next thing he would hear was the door closing.
“I should send her to ask?”
The reply was flippant and Andrew spoke it as a dismissal. “We’ll maybe you should?” Now he heard the door. The American was the last visitor; he didn’t know if at last word had circulated but in a way he was relieved; the pressure had cemented his decision to keep the shuttle on station.
It was at end period when all but essential works were paused for the communal dinner that Andrew entered the mess compartment. From along the passage he could hear the general hubbub of music and voice that usually accompanied work breaks. It was a familiar sound as if things were back to normal, but though he took comfort in the illusion he knew it would remain just that for some time to come.
He was acknowledged by a few glances his way as he entered and crossed to the buffet.
“Commander,” said the middle-aged man behind the counter.
Andrew nodded in acknowledgment before he looked at the steaming dishes. “Just the main course thanks Stewart.” Andrew glanced back into the dining room as the chef filled his plate. “Looks like a normal turn out."
“Yea; panics never last long past a hungry stomach," drawled the man laconically.
“We’ve all gotta eat." He smiled back, thinking that may not be the case for too far in the future. Andrew turned towards the room. There were only a few seats still available; it limited his choice of who he could sit with; though truth be he had few people he could call friends aboard: even less those he could call close. It was something he had no choice in; the choices he sometimes had to make were too critical for any serious social friendships to cloud his judgment.
He sat between two of the visitors. They would have no memory of the previous commander, Errol James Parker, EJP, or God. No, he thought; that was unkind, though sometimes he felt as if it were fact. The man was a living legend, but he had run afoul of the WASA politics that were not supposed to exist, and he had been; to term a phrase, ‘mothballed’. It was not Andrew's fault that he had wanted the job, but he did know he was far from the first choice for the opening. He didn’t have the service or the experience that all of the others had, but he did have the connections, and his father had called in a lot of old favors for him to be appointed. Still he hadn’t expected the resentment to be personal.
He pushed the thoughts from his mind. The good thing was that there were over thirty people in the room: the most he would get together without calling a special meeting. It would do, at last he pushed away the half eaten meal and stood up. “Can I have your attention?” he called out
There was a slowing of nearby conversation, but still some animated discussions carried on. “Can I have your attention?" he called out louder this time. Now all eyes in the room turned to him. He looked across to Stewart and then at the music station as he drew his finger across his throat. Stewart nodded and the room fell into silence
“I won’t take too much of your time, but this seems an appropriate opportunity to let you all know that I have been in contact with Houston regarding our present; and our future. I don’t intend to go into detail about the difficulties down on the planet right now, and I expect you have heard rumours that there is little chance of any rescue mission being initiated from the planet. I have to inform you that they are not just rumours." From the gasps and muttering it was obvious there was a substantial feeling of disappointment. "After those discussions with Houston I have to tell you that return to the surface will not be possible for a considerably longer time than we at first hoped.” Several people went to speak but he held up his hand for them to quiet. “When things settle down and I know for sure what our future will entail I will fully inform all of you on the details, but briefly the passing of Nemesis resulted in changes to the Earthrise’s velocity and location. As I said I will go into details later, but for the moment suffice to say that we are leaving our predetermined orbit, and as a result Earth and ourselves are parting company for at least six months."
Now even his raised hand could not quieten the protests, and he was forced to listen to overlapping voices from every direction. Andrew waited silently until the uproar subsided a little, before he raised his voice. "All our calculations have been confirmed by Houston: the only thing we do not know; and will not know for certain for a few more days, is where and how long it will be before we meet up with the planet again?"
The uproar was dying down now as shock sank in.
"What I do need you to know is that Earthrise is mostly fully functional; it is not going to break up, and we are all safe. While such an occurrence was never envisaged, the station being isolated was. We have food and all the necessities to sustain life.” Andrew had the urge to add just, but he didn’t. “I’ll talk later to all the staff about any changes to your duties, but in the meantime I’d like you to work out what resources you have and maximum time that you can stretch out whatever resource you are responsible for. As for the hotel guests…” He looked at the hostile faces. “While you are still guests you will have to share the restrictions that I will be imposing on all persons aboard.”
At least one quickly stood and began to shout. Andrew ignored the man and looked for as friendly a face as he could just as Mathew walked into the room. “Obviously you will need to talk to your loved ones so I will ease any restrictions on contacting the surface so that you can settle whatever matters you need down there. I will be talking to the builders and fitters about the hotel rooms. Many of the staff are presently in communal quarters, and I feel that if we are to be forced into a more extended period we all need some private space, so once a hotel room is habitable you will be moved. There are many other matters to consider but that’s the situation," he hesitated. "I am sorry to have to te
ll you, but this will be our last full meal; from now on a strict rationing will be applied to every resource we consume or use."
Now it was said he was ready to leave the room, but then he remembered his still unfinished meal. It would look bad announcing rationing and then wasting food. He sat down and began to eat though he was far from hungry under the glare of so many angry eyes.
Andrew returned to his cabin; it had been a hard and frustrating day; he hoped they would get better, but the likelihood was that they wouldn’t. He opened the door a crack and immediately stopped: the light was on? Slowly he pushed it inwards while imagining that one of the disgruntled visitors he had sent packing earlier had decided to do something? But there was no one in the room, though the bedroom door was half open, and immediately he knew that that source of the light was from one of the bedside lamps. He hadn’t left it on; but maybe one of the cleaners had: that would be a first time. The alternative was that someone was in his bedroom. Maybe whoever it was were disgruntled, but to break into his room was totally unacceptable. He strode the few paces ready for a confrontation and threw the door open. Immediately he stopped.
Sitting on the edge of the bed was… was? His brain couldn’t think seeing the wife of the man from Silicon Valley. She was dressed in his shower gown, and as he stood there she smiled