“You still with that Roberto guy?”
“We’re marrying, so yeah, I guess so,” she said without stopping her negotiation over the sand. “Date isn’t set, but I can promise you, you’re not invited, so don’t worry about needing to rent actual clothes.”
“Think I’m just like him? Take a look at yourself.” Jupe said as he watched her leave. He knew she probably didn’t hear.
“What was that about, Jupe? Who’s TC?” asked a younger surfer named Morrie, and he was clearly asking on behalf of the group, as they were all eyeing Jupe.
“Johnny Beggs,” Jupe said without emotion.
“The explorer?” Angus asked, surprised, and then thought before asking, “You’re Johnny Beggs’ son? You never told us that.”
“So now you know.”
“He’s a hero.”
“No wonder you’re the champ at everything,” said Angus, looking startled to be in such company.
Jupe dropped back to the sand and shut his eyes, trying not to hear Angus explain to the others how much of a great man Jupe’s father was. They listened and agreed, because they didn’t know him.
* * * *
TC Beggs sat on the inside edge of his office window. The window was open and if he leaned any further he could fall to his death. It was a warm night but there was a chill in the breeze. He looked out at the night scene of the city, but he was not really looking at it. Over the city was a nice collection of stars, occasionally shaded by cloud. He usually would stare at them, wishing he was flying out to them, but not tonight. The bottled vodka sitting near him in the window was untouched. How untouched it remained, he was still pondering.
He saw in the window the image of his daughter entering the room. She smiled her warm smile that always reminded him of when she was a tiny girl. Of all his memories of being out in space, the times when she ran around on his ship, oblivious to where she was, were his favourite. Nothing else compared to those times, and yet, at the time he had thought little of it. She loved space the same way he did, that it was where they were meant to be, with the entire galaxy to explore. Details like UDE’s secret missions, and DSE’s annoying administrators and yes-men, were never her concern, and he wished that they were not his either.
“TC, two more passengers for us, confirmed,” she said, breaking his thoughts.
He almost reached for the bottle.
“They are all checked out,” she continued. “Rolondo Rees and Rebecca Rees. Husband and wife, married three years, no children. She goes by the name Rebbi, and seems a little short tempered, if you ask me.”
“I am going to ask you,” he said without looking at her. “How short is that temper? Can’t be cooped up with too many nuts. There’ll be enough of them in the crew’s quarters.”
“Only to him she has the temper. Not to me. Not that I saw. By his reaction, I’d guess she’s at him all the time.”
TC nodded and almost laughed as he turned to her. “Arguing already, are they, those two? They want to sail off into the wide black yonder all bickering and spitting? What kind of country do they imagine they can build for themselves?”
Dawn-Star sat on the edge of his cluttered desk and was silently annoyed when she noticed the vodka by him. She thought they had an agreement that he wasn’t going to drink, at least not around her. But now, with him making no attempt to hide it, she felt a little betrayed.
“Now what?” she asked with enthusiasm, more to help herself. “Do we wait for more or plan to fly?”
TC sighed and returned his gaze outside. “I’d love to wait for more, but we’ve had the Calps on hold for a while now. I don’t want them going off and finding some other passage out there. And they might, given his contacts.”
“That’s it, then? We go with the four?”
“Yep,” TC said with a breath of resignation. He had wanted more passengers, but they were not coming to him as fast as he expected. “Tell the Wilsons to start getting the old girl up and running. That should take us about a month. Packing and tuning another two weeks. Final preps, a week. Seven weeks from today should do it. Mark that on the calendar, would you?”
Dawn-Star let out a nervous laugh. “Unbelievable,” she said with her hand over her mouth. “You’re actually doing it.”
“Don’t think I’m not forcing you to stay. You’re not going with us. You know that, right? This is a dangerous one.”
“No, no. I don’t want to go.”
TC smiled. “Not that you wouldn’t be useful. You’re good crew. When you were a girl, you were running all over the place, asking questions about this and that, I couldn’t keep up with you. I know it’s too much to expect you to do that now. You’ve got your own life now.”
She wanted to change the subject, knowing that he was confusing her with Jupe. He was the one who was keen and eager to know everything, who ran around the ship and loved every moment of it. She hated being on his ship and wanted to leave and get back down to Earth, and live with her mother. Jupe, since he was only a boy, knew nothing of the lingering danger of space flight, or the ongoing medical risks, but she was only too aware. TC’s memory of that time seemed to be limited, and he never wanted to say why his wife had left him and their children at T Station. Dawn-Star had always thought that it was because she was never really suited to living in space. TC, it seemed to her, was not suited to living on Earth, and he wanted his family to be the same.
“If we had known about Ancia back in those days,” TC said as he changed the subject, “by the time that pretender Gammond and his fairy crew took to prancing around in Ancian dirt for the cameras, we would have had a city up and running. Packed, tuned and final prepped. It wouldn’t have been ‘Gammond finds no natives,’ but ‘Gammond finds natives and they are just like us; oh, they are us’. They were actually us, Dawn, not him. Not Gammond the first man, the hero, blah blah blah. He doesn’t know one end of a ship to the other, and yet we’re supposed to believe he’s found this great paradise world. It’s all UDE-backing, with his father’s help, that’s all. He’s just the smiling face for the cameras, the clown for the public to get behind.”
He stopped talking, his anger getting the best of him, and he never liked to show it around her. Neither said a word while he picked up the bottle and held it firm, as he looked at nothing through the window.
Then Dawn-Star tentatively spoke. “That should have been you, not Gammond. That first landing party. Everyone who knows anything about space, knows that. They all know it at T Station. One day, they’ll know it here, too. You discovered a planet before he did. Just because it’s further away …”
“Leave it be. What I said and did is history. Gammond took the high road, got lucky and made a name for himself. Me, I’m perfectly happy. So what if no one cares about my find? One day they will, when they have too many at Ancia and they’ll need to go somewhere else. How about that planet I found? One day they’ll be sneaking colonists out there, just the same as what’s happening now. No, all they care about now is Gammond’s world, and think of me as some superstar emergency rescue service. You think I want that, to be thought of as someone flying around looking for ships about to crash? I’m a deep-space pilot. DSE. Deep Space Exploration. One of the pioneers. I’ve been to the deep. That should count for something.”
Dawn nodded, having heard his ranting many times before. Without another word, she left his office and went to visit the ship’s preparation crew. TC put the bottle back down in the window and remembered that he should have hidden it from her.
* * * *
It was the usual electronics shop. All glitzy signs and gaudy carpet, with sales for overpriced devices that were soon to be obsolete. The slick salesman watched Real the moment he stepped out of the mall and into the shop; his territory. It was particularly pleasing for the salesman to see Real walk with purpose to the back area, where the large machines with high-end prices were kept.
“Just looking, just browsing,” Real said when the salesman edged closer.
<
br /> “Anything you need, just give me a shout,” he said with a wide grin and his hands clasped.
But then Real did see what he needed. “These are top of the line? Freezing units?”
The salesman seemed to change into someone else. His demeanour became that of a buddy and they were standing around after work, having a few drinks, admiring the sunset, talking about anything that came to mind.
“Newest shipment came in last week,” the salesman enthused. “They’re out back, since we need to move these guys first. There’s a great price drop on these ones, since the boss wants them all out of here before we can replace them. If it’s a money-save you’re looking for, you won’t do any better, since we really shouldn’t have them this cheap. But if it’s all the latest additions you want, I can sneak you out to see the shiny new ones, when the boss isn’t looking. But any long-term haul you’re planning, you have everything you need in one of these girls, either new or old. Where are you off to? Mars Base?”
“Bit further than that.”
“Out of the system? T Station? Harax Pras? Or even Ancia?” The salesman could barely contain his excitement. A long-haul flight could only mean that his customer was loaded with money. He tried to remember what they actually had out in the back storeroom.
“Harax Pras.”
“Got just what you want,” he said quickly. “The H8-29. Harax Pras has such strong windstorms, you need something you can use to find it, should you get swamped with sand. Comes with an emergency beacon that can operate—you won’t believe this—from ground to planetary orbit. The batteries in one of these babies, they can go for one hundred years, and that’s on full power. Why would they make it to last that long? What were they thinking, right? But that’s what quality gets you. More stuff than you’ll ever need, but perhaps you might.”
“Can it keep living animals inside it, perfectly safe?” Real asked as casually as he could. His nerves were starting to make him shake.
“Bit of smuggling you want?”
Real tried to read the man’s face, if he was joking or not.
“No, no …”
“Relax, now,” the salesman said with a lowered voice and a small pat on Real’s shoulders. “None of my business, but if you wanted something for animals, I can put you onto the right people. Livestock, is it?”
“Yeah, that’s right, livestock. Listen, these freezers, they are guaranteed to thaw out all right? No side-effects, just the way they went in?”
“Sure, if a little bit colder. Pigs are the best, at least, that is what I’ve been told. Let me write you out who to contact. Not that you heard it from me.”
Real was given a name and an address. The place was easy to find, but the name, Dett Parr, seemed more daunting, like a pseudonym. The unpainted building had no markings, but inside he saw that it was a large shop similar to the legitimate one, complete with the glitzy signs and fake sales. Two bearded men, who were standing before a large entertainment screen that was blasting loud music, looked up at Real, and to him, they seemed to be glaring. Then Real realised that he was reading too much into it, as they paid him no further attention. He walked deeper into the shop and stopped before a tall machine that, aside from a control panel, had no other features.
“Not what I would have in mind,” commented a short man, heavyset in his fashionable suit. He was devoid of all the sales manners of the other guy.
“Pardon?” Real asked, startled by him.
“The defluxer you’re looking over, you’re not the type who takes much interest in those. But then, I hardly know you.”
“I’m looking for Dett Parr.”
“That’s who you’ve found. Decker-Dett. I was told to expect you.”
He was a black-market dealer who acted like a genuine seller, known as a Decker, and Real saw that this one was more cocky than the usual.
“I’m looking for freezers.”
“Fridges? Sure.”
“Transport. For space.” Real felt stupid for admitting that.
“Taking to space, are you? Where’re you headed?”
“Harax Pras.”
“Because if you were going to Ancia, that wouldn’t be legal.”
Real looked at Dett unsure what to think, and then saw a small grin. “Is anything here legal?”
“What do you want to store?” Dett asked without a beat, walking him through to the freezer section.
“Pigs.”
“Yeah, you don’t have to tell me. You’re the customer; you’re always right.”
“What, for the sake of conversation, do you have that would be safe for a human? Not that I am planning on freezing a human. I just like to be assured my pigs will survive.”
“It’s all safe for humans. Not that anyone from UDE will admit to that. Believe them, they still don’t put anyone into deep sleep for their long flights. Those DSE pilots, they have to live through the whole flight, and flights like guys like Beggs and Khan did, you’re taking years out of life. But here we have these indormators, keep them fresh and young and healthy, and they won’t let them use them? We all know they use them; who are they trying to fool? This one,” he said as they stood before a large machine that looked exactly like a refrigerator, “you can try it yourself, if you like.”
Real took a few steps back but Dett assured him that it was all right. He decided to believe the man and found himself curious enough to walk inside. Dett motioned for him to shut the door and Real obliged, pulling it closed so it locked. All he knew was a slight chill, and his vision blurred. He shook his head and his vision cleared. Then the door opened and he stepped out. He saw that his hands were blue and shaking, and he had a little trouble with his balance.
“You know what’s funny?” Dett said with a wide grin. “I was only joking about you trying it. But now I guess we know it’ll be safe for your piggies to go moonwalking. Or was it Mars you said?”
“Why are you wearing those clothes?” Real asked, seeing that he was dressed differently, not entirely getting what just happened.
“I always change my clothing apparel. Have to keep up my style. Can’t go wearing the same getup two days in a row.”
“Wait a minute,” Real said as he took a worried look at his watch. It was half an hour earlier, and he felt dizzy at the realisation. “You kept me in there a whole day?”
“You never said how long you wanted to be frozen. Fact is, you’re the first one we’ve ever seen who’s gone and volunteered. Before you get mad and say something you’ll regret, you should know it’s not safe to put you in and bring you out too fast, so we can drive you to a hospital or clinic if you’re not feeling right. We look out for our customers here.”
Dett then swung around and announced with a loud voice, “He’s out!” All the customers and workers came near to see, applauding as they walked.
“You think this is funny?” Real yelled, his eyes boring into Dett’s, who was taken aback at the sudden aggression. “I didn’t do that for nothing. I’ll buy it, but you can knock the top off that price. That was an effort worthy of a big discount.”
Real was not a morning person.
* * * *
It had been four years since TC found an abandoned forty-metre trailer that was left by the side of the road. He hitched it to his ship and half-dragged, half flew it to its present location. The spot he dropped it to was not level, but no one really cared, since it was far away from their nearest neighbour. The move was done in the dead of night so as not attract any law enforcement. TC did not notice the nearby trees that had their tops singed, and the local media had an interesting time trying to find out why. The trailer was TC’s gift to the Wilson brothers, and they treasured it from the bottom of their hearts. It was their home-away-from-home, when they were not working in space. They had not once fixed, cleaned or tidied it.
Dawn-Star hated the place and she planned to make her visit short. They would either be drinking or cleaning their guns, and she feared that one day she would find them combining t
he two. She took a deep breath and then opened the trailer door to see the two occupants. They were both sitting in their own deep sofas, and had stacks of beer bottles next to them, and no guns in sight. Both were a good fifteen years past their prime.
Arbus Wilson thought he was the joker of the two. Wanting to be called Cuthbert from an early age, when he first became fascinated in old-time pirates, he was captivated by anything to do with sailing ships, treasure or shoulder-perched parrots. No matter who tried to convince him otherwise, the style of language he used was meant to be the same as some seventeenth-century Blackbeard-type. Except he was the clean-shaven one; his brother sported a small chin-beard.
He started with a long “Arrh”, as if a real pirate would have, and didn’t move from his seat, and then, “Wouldn’t you know? I was having a bad day, and then I came to lay may eyes upon thee, my fair lass. Upon what do I owe the charity of this visit?”
“Message from TC,” Dawn-Star said, ignoring his act. “Rev up the ship, please. Or, flame up the Star. Isn’t that the terminology you like to use?”
Thax, whose real name was Garrison, stood for the lady, and with a beer-choked lurch toward her, he mumbled, “You are the only Star I want to rev up, darling.”
“That’s all,” Dawn-Star said as she turned to make her way out, planning to slam the door shut.
“Wait, fair Dawn,” Cuthbert called, and then dropped his act at the news. “TC’s ready to go? The Ancia thing? He’s really going to do that?”
“Would I have bothered to come all the way down here and lay my tender eyes upon thee, if he wasn’t?” And with that she left and slammed the door.
Thax grinned at his brother. “She spouts that poetry better than you.” Then he saw that his brother looked worried. “What’s wrong with your face?”
“I just didn’t think the old man had it in him. Wouldn’t you know it?”
“What do you want to do?”
“Only one thing: Shore up the mainsails, front the heavenly sheets, and make the beauty ready to traverse those yonder lights. Aye-aye and up she rises. To Ancia we shall sail, and make haste ye lubberly cowpoke.”
“Do you have any idea how you sound?” Thax said with a burping laugh. “Some of that might have been English.”