April 3
The Farsees stepped out of their car, heads shaved and suitcases in hand. They stood outside a small terminal with its own runway and a fleet of steam-hardened planes. John led the way as they went inside. The Mars bound passengers were visible at a glance. They were bald, or they wore hats, the latter being sound advice given the sun. Mark and Tamara wore Reds baseball caps, gifts from Elton that were underutilized, until now. Most of the children wore caps of some kind, turning embarrassment into a "cool" status symbol.
A dozen families stood in line at the counter, and Maggie groaned. They arrived an hour early, and there were no other flights departing from this terminal, so she didn't expect delays, but interplanetary travel entails even more paperwork than international travel, and the passengers shifted from foot to foot as the agent validated each ticket and each piece of luggage.
The Farsees were sixth in line with several families behind them, when a tall man with dark hair tapped John on the shoulder. He carried a suitcase, but he was not in line. And he wasn't going to Mars, not with that thick head of hair. "Perhaps he's a worker," thought John, "starting a six month tour of duty on the elevator. That's a job I wouldn't want."
"Yes?" said John.
"Your friend Elton," the stranger began, "he says you can be trusted. I need you to take this to Mars." He pointed to the suitcase.
"I don't carry anything for anybody...", but John was interrupted.
"Elton said I should give you the code word Marsupial."
That was the true password that they had agreed on, if either of them got into trouble. The false password, which Elton would give under duress, was Reptile. This man had obtained the true password, yet John was still suspicious. The penalty for smuggling contraband to Mars was particularly brutal. "What's in the case?" he asked.
"Best if you don't know, for now, but you'll find out soon enough. You have to open the case within 24 hours. You should be on the elevator by then, in your own private stateroom. The access code is 27913." He pointed to a keypad on the side of the trunk. "If you are asked to open it by an inspector, type 16935. Remember those two numbers and don't get them mixed up. The latter will vaporize the contents. Molecular bonds will be shattered, and you will have only a pile of elements and simple compounds. The energy will be reabsorbed by the walls of the case."
John had heard about these smuggling cases. The technology was staggering. Along with the self destruct feature, the case included an xray rerouter. When xrays struck one side of the case, they were absorbed, and the opposite side of the case emitted xrays in a pattern that resembled clothes and toys. Sometimes a savvy security officer would turn the case, to see if the picture changed, but this model was able to detect the direction of the incoming xrays and reemit xrays on the other side, in the same direction, and with the proper perspective. There would be a delay of a millisecond or so, as the computer recalculated the image, but the officer would never notice.
"Remember, 24 hours. After that the contents will self destruct on their own."
"Give me the codes again." said John. The tall man leaned over and whispered them into John's ear, then stepped away. John picked up the suitcase, which was heavy with technology. But it was under the weight limit, he was sure of that, and since Mark and Tamara only had one bag each, they could accommodate one more piece of luggage as a family. He rehearsed the codes in his mind as they stood in line.
John stepped up to the desk and presented his tickets. "You'll need to keep these tickets." commented the agent. "The captain of the transport will want to see them. I'll check your luggage here; Personal identification and security takes place at the jetway. There will be another inspection on the transport, and a final inspection before you set foot on Mars. Do you understand?" The farsees nodded. "Now how many bags today?"
One by one John lifted the luggage onto the platform. He made sure the mystery case was neither first nor last. The agent turned it and watched the xray image change, then decided it was innocuous and reached for the next bag. "These will be taken directly to your stateroom on the transport," she reminded, "so make sure there is nothing in here you need for your five hour layover."
"I have the tickets in hand," said John, "and I don't think we need anything else."
"Well some people forget about medicines and the like, then the transport is delayed, and they're in trouble." She checked the last bag. "You can go to the gate."
Tamara glommed onto the last orange couch big enough for four, and Mark pulled out a deck of cards. They still had a half hour ahead of them. John found an issue of Scientific World, and Maggie watched the other passengers. She liked people watching, though John thought it was a complete waste of time.
"Government Air, flight 276, now leaving for the elevator, with connections to Mars. Passengers in rows 1 through 10 may board." There was no first class on Government Airlines, so the Farsee's forward seat assignment didn't mean anything, except that they were the first to board. They identified themselves at the counter and passed through the sniff chamber separately, then reconvened in the cabin. There were two seats on either side of the aisle, and Maggie let the children choose. Tamara wanted a window seat, but Mark did not, so he sat next to John on the right, while Tamara and Maggie took the left. They fiddled with their flight bags, and seatbelts, and headsets, waiting for all the passengers to board. Finally the cabin door closed and a voice broke in over the intercom. This was a human voice, rather than the synthesized voice John had heard on the way to Siberia.
"Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Captain Rollins and I'll be your pilot today. As you probably know, computers make better pilots than humans, most of the time, but this run is an exception. We'll be flying through layers of steam, and landing on a floating barge with a rather short runway. I can usually let the computer run the show, but I have taken the controls before, and I'm ready to do so again if need be." The plane taxied out to its runway. "We'll be using traditional jet engines up to Mach 7, then we'll switch to scramjets for the trek across the Indian ocean. As we approach the equator we'll drop back to subsonic, using turbo jet engines, and finally we'll cut over to our liquid oxygen supply, since there isn't enough oxygen near the surface to support combustion. Most of it has been displaced by steam."
The plane turned onto the runway and began to rev its engines. "Prepare for acceleration; we're taking off." The computer released the breaks and the plane rolled forward, gathering speed at a steady rate. It left the runway and climbed into the sky as Tamara watched out her window with the fascination of a child. They flew out over the ocean, then went supersonic. Three minutes later the scramjets kicked in, and they were on their way.
John ordered a glass of wine, which he paid for with the dregs of his savings account. The kids ordered soft drinks and listened to modern music, rehashed songs stamped out in cookie cutter fashion, designed to attract the teen and pre-teen markets. They weren't very interesting, and John was glad the kids had headsets. He looked out the window as the plane raced across the dark blue ocean, peaceful and serene. The hour passed by quickly. Mark and Tamara remained inside their musical worlds, and John was content to read his in-flight magazine.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are approaching the equator. Please fasten your seatbelts for deceleration."
John still had his seatbelt on. He slid the magazine into its folder and looked out the window. Three islands slid by beneath and a few clouds appeared in the distance, just over the horizon. As the plane decelerated John could see that the approaching clouds hugged the surface of the ocean. They swirled and rose into the sky like a living blanket with upwelling tendrils. It seemed to reach up, trying to pull the plane down into the sea, and the plane descended, following the siren-song of the grasping beast below.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the plane has switched over to on-board oxygen. We have plenty of fuel, but only enough oxygen to reach our destination, so let's hope for a perfect landing." The pilot had a strange sense of humor.
Steam shrouded the windows as the reddish sun became an orange blur behind a white curtain. They spent several minutes immersed in white, then the ocean reappeared, light blue beneath an overcast sky. This was the shade of blue that John had seen in old movies. The steam pulled some of the red from the sunlight, revealing the spectrum of a younger star. The plane hung suspended between a light blue floor and a white ceiling that seemed to stretch to infinity. The entire cloud deck glowed white with diffuse sunlight, while a bright spot betrayed the true location of the sun, off to the east.
The pilot spoke again. "Ladies and gentlemen, the atmosphere around us is at least 60% steam. You may think of steam as white, but this is a result of condensation. That is what is happening above us, as the water vapor condenses into droplets in the upper atmosphere. But as we approach the ocean, the temperature rises, and steam remains a gas, as clear as the air itself. You can see for miles, but don't be fooled, it's 221 degrees outside."
John could imagine his window blowing out, as steam poured into the cabin. Skin was scalded in a matter of seconds, and as it fell away, the muscles were cooked from the outside in. A desperate breath brought steam into the lungs, where it condensed into boiling water. A person would drown and burn at the same time. He deliberately pushed the thought from his mind. He went back to the window and told himself that the air outside was just that, air, on a cool winters day. The view supported his fantasy, a clear blue ocean stretching to the horizon.
John saw the barge ahead, coming up fast. "It's a little hotter than usual today," reported the pilot, "but the seas are calm and there are no crosswinds, so I'm going to let the computer bring us in for a landing. Don't worry though, I'll have my hand on the stick at all times." The plane approached the south end of the barge and touched down just 100 feet along the runway. The steel hook caught the plane and slowed it to a stop, as air craft carriers had done since the dawn of technology. The captain spoke again.
"Well that was a smooth landing. We're going to taxi up to the north entrance. Please be seated until the jetway has mated with the aircraft and the cabin door is open. If you are destined for Mars, you will go down to the main floor and proceed to the waiting area, room 679. The signs will show you the way. The barge and the elevator are already mated, so you shouldn't encounter any delays. On behalf of myself, our flight attendant, and Government Air, we hope you've had a pleasant flight."
After several minutes the plane rolled to a stop next to a housing that looked like a conning tower. The jetway extended from the wall and reached out toward the plane. It made a seal with the fuselage, and hissing sounds could be heard just outside the door.
"Please wait; we are pumping the steam out of the jetway and bringing it down to an acceptable temperature."
The cabin door opened and the impatient passengers, who were already at the exit, filed through. John was in no hurry. They had a five hour layover; what could they do? Finally he led his family out to the jetway, which had no windows and no lights. He was glad it was only a few yards long. The walls were warm to the touch, and they seemed to radiate heat into the tube. They left the jetway and entered the structure, which was little more than a landing with stairs and elevators. Most people were waiting for the elevator, but the Farsees didn't have many carry-on bags, so they took the stairs. They went down three flights to the main floor, then followed the signs for Mars bound passengers. Soft lights illuminated the blue tile floor and the white walls of the hallway, which acted as the main artery for the barge. They walked past living quarters, kitchens, shops, and theaters. "There's a whole city down here." exclaimed Tamara.
"It looks that way." said Maggie. They passed a warehouse of spare parts, then came upon an intersection.
"Which way do we go?" asked Mark.
Maggie read the sign overhead, just below the fluorescent lights. "Mars passengers head right." They were about to turn when a woman touched John on the arm.
"Are you Mr. Farsee?" she asked, a note of urgency in her voice.
"Yes."
They moved to the side to let other passengers by. "I heard you were coming. I know you only have a few hours before you go to Mars, but we really need your help. We've sent requests to Antarctica and Siberia, but they seem to fall on deaf ears. They don't know what it's like out here."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"The fusion generator, the mix doesn't look right, and power is down 12%. If the generator fails, we're good for a day or two, and then we roast. We can pull some power from the elevator, but not enough to run this entire complex. I don't think planes could land on deck without power from below, so rescue would be impossible."
"I can fix a fusion reactor in 4 ours!" said John.
"I know, but perhaps you could look at the system and give us an idea of what is going wrong. We're stumped. We should be at full power and we're not. You can imagine how often we get a fusion expert on this ship."
John looked at Maggie, and she came right to the point. "Do what you need to do, but don't miss your connection to Mars. You'll never get another chance, and if you don't come with us, I'll never forgive you. So don't be late!"
"Listen," the woman in white continued, directing her plea towards Maggie, "the waiting area is 50 feet that way," she pointed to the right, "and the power station is 100 yards straight ahead. If we could just have two hours of his time, he could come right back and join you. Please."
"I'll be all right," said John, "you go ahead." Maggie took her children by the hand and walked towards the waiting area while John went on ahead.
"I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. My name is Shelly, and I run the power station down here, or at least I try to. I don't want to experience a power failure while bobbing about in a boiling ocean."
"I don't blame you. I'm just worried about my family, and getting to Mars. We each have our priorities."
Shelly took John by the arm and guided him into a control room filled with consoles. "Sit down here." she encouraged. "This is the master console."
John sat down and looked at the screen. It showed a small reactor, perhaps 6 feet across, glowing red. Pipes connected the sphere to various tanks and monitors, very much like the system he left behind on Antarctica, but on a much smaller scale. "This entire complex draws power from one and only one reactor? And if that reactor goes, you start to cook?"
"Well not exactly. We can tap power from the reactor on the elevator in an emergency, and that's enough to keep the lights on in a dozen rooms. I guess they figure we can get our reactor working in a couple days, while we draw power from the elevator, but if we can't, we're in a lot of trouble."
"That's insane! this place should run on two reactors in parallel, maybe three."
"I agree, but the governments are trying to save money. Siberia supplied this reactor, and they say Antarctica should provide the next one. Meantime Antarctica says it can't afford it, and Scandinavia should do its part. And Scandinavia claims Canada has contributed almost nothing to this station, and so it goes."
"Well they'll lose billions if this complex suffers an extended blackout. Billions!" He looked at the controls on the console. "How do I view the plasma?"
Shelly sat down next to him and activated several switches. Suddenly they were inside the sphere, watching hydrogen and helium perform their fusion dance inside a magnetic bubble.
"How can I view temperature, pressure, and magnetic fields in false color?"
"Right here." Shelly pointed to a row of thumbwheels next to the screen.
John turned one, and then another, until he understood what each knob did. The console was similar to his, but the dials were in different places. "The plasma looks asymmetric, why is that?" He didn't really expect an answer, he was just thinking out loud. "I need to see the magnetic fields." He turned a few more knobs and a swirl of blue and green surrounded the yellow ball in the center. "Yeah, there's an asymmetry in the magnetic field, and the plasma is reacting to it. That's why it's not a perfect sphere. See? Over here."
"Yes I see." said Shelly, following his finger. It was a tiny imperfection, a bulge in an otherwise perfect circle. "That's a pretty small deviation."
"It doesn't take much to disturb the reaction." John moved about inside the sphere, viewing the plasma from all sides. "One of the magnets is week." He turned another wheel and the blues became more pronounced. "That's it, right there. Do you see it? Magnet number 7 is weak, or misalined, and the plasma is being pushed in that direction. You need to replace that magnet as soon as possible. Do you have enough spare parts in your warehouse?"
"Yes, that's not a problem. We just need to find a time when we can do without power for a few hours. Probably after the Mars contingent is on its way."
"That would be a good idea. This reactor isn't going to fail in the next 24 hours, or even in the next week, but you really should get the magnet replaced."
"I don't know why I couldn't see that. You must think I'm incompetent."
"Not at all. That was subtle, and hard to spot. I recognized it because we had the same problem with reactor 17 a couple of years ago. I'm just use to the patterns."
They stood up and Shelly gave him a quick hug. "Thank you so much." John smiled and left the control room. He walked back to the intersection, turned left, and joined his family in the waiting area.
"Well, that didn't take long at all." declared Maggie, with a smile on her face.
"It was a pattern I've seen before." explained John. "Not an immediate crisis, but it is serious."
"Well I'm glad you're back, and so are the kids." Indeed, Tamara and Mark were standing close to their father, one on either side.
"Daddy, let's play some cards." suggested Tamara. "There's a table over there; we can play Michigan."
"How bout rummy?" countered Maggie, "we don't have any chips for Michigan." They played several hands, passing the time.
A side door opened and a short man came into the room. He wore a short sleeve shirt and jeans, and despite his casual dress, everyone knew he was the man with all the power. He spoke without a microphone, but his diction was perfect, and you could hear every word.
"folks, my name is Mr. Hopkins, and I am your check-in agent. I decide who goes on the transport and who doesn't, and I make the room assignments. I know you all have tickets, but I have the last word. I don't anticipate any problems, so please don't create any problems, and we'll be fine. I'll call you up in sequence and validate your tickets, then I'll assign you to your stateroom on the ship. I'll do my best to keep families together, but I make no guarantees. You go where I send you, and that's the end of it. So without further ado, let's get started. Abrams, party of two, please step forward."
Maggie estimated about 400 passengers in the room. That would be about 100 from each country, which sounded plausible; there were about 100 people on the plane from Antarctica. At that rate, how long would it take to get to F? That's 400 times 5 over 26, or about 76 people. fortunately Mr. Hopkins was running them through fairly quickly. He had no desire to stand there all day either. They played one more round of cards, then put the deck away as Mr. Hopkins moved through the E's.
"Farsee, party of four." John led the way, tickets in hand. He showed them to Mr. Hopkins, who frowned. He didn't wave them through as he had done with the others. John's heart was in his throat.
"I'm afraid we have a little problem. Somehow, we've sold more tickets than we have seats. We're asking parties of four or more to help us out in this matter. Two of you may go on the transport and the other two will have to stay behind."
John and Maggie were in shock. "We can't..." shouted John, but he realized he had no power at all. This was no time to act like a king.
"Other passengers are waiting, please make your decision. Of course you can all stay behind if you like, but I need to know now."
John turned to Maggie and offered his solution. "We always said we would send the kids. That was our original plan. So let's send the kids. They can stay with Pete and Sarah, and we can take the next transport out."
"That's nine years!" Maggie hissed. "Forget it, I've changed my mind. I'm not giving up my children. Either I go with them or they don't go. Earth isn't such a bad place; and I'm not sending my children away."
"Then we don't go, and the underground will catch up with us and kill us. I can't play their game much longer. We've gotten this far thanks to a healthy dose of luck, but we can't count on that in the future. We have to send the kids to Mars for their own safety."
"There has to be another way. You can apply for a transfer to Scandinavia. It's a beautiful country. I will not have my family living on two different planets."
"People, can we move it along." insisted Mr. Hopkins.
Maggie stepped forward and spoke in a quiet voice. "Excuse me Mr. Hopkins, but how many seats do you need altogether?"
"We're overbooked by six."
"And there are over 300 passengers yet to go. I'm sure you can free up six seats among all those people." She reached into her pocket and pulled out her money card. "I'm sure we can come to some agreement." Maggie typed in a series of numbers very quickly and presented the card to Mr. Hopkins. "All you have to do is enter your personal account number and send us on our way."
Mr. Hopkins looked at the number in blue and his eyes grew wide. He cleared his throat, then spoke. "Well, Mrs. Farsee, your tickets seem to be in order." He typed in his account number and handed the card back to her. The balance was now zero. "You're in room 21." He handed them each a boarding pass. "Have a nice trip."
They stepped through an outer door and into a walkway that connected the barge with the elevator. The two complexes were usually decoupled, so the elevator could move about, to avoid satellites, without dragging the massive barge along. The tunnel was 50 yards long and ten feet high, with windows along its length. If there were lights in the tunnel, John didn't notice, as there was plenty of sunlight pouring in from outside. He stopped at one of the windows and realized he was under water, just below the surface. A bubble formed just in front of him, a bit larger than his head. It rose to the surface and broke open, spilling steam into the atmosphere. A minute later he saw another bubble form off in the distance. Then another drifted up from below. He was actually watching the ocean boil from inside. Tamara watched as well, but Mark was growing impatient.
"Come on Dad, let's go."
John continued to watch the bubbles for another five minutes as passengers passed him by. Finally he tore himself away from the window and proceeded down the tunnel. They stepped into the base of the elevator, which was about 100 yards square. Signs directed them passed work areas and living quarters, towards the center of the complex. They climbed two flights of stairs, leading to a large room above sea level with windows all around. John looked out on the ocean, light blue under a white sky. He saw bubbles everywhere, of all sizes, spread across the water. Some sat there for several minutes, stuck to the underside of the surface as waves gently moved them up and down. Others popped into the air. The attendant followed his gaze, and then spoke.
"You don't usually see this many bubbles." he commented. "You need a very hot day and a very calm sea, and that's what we have now. It's pretty though isn't it."
"Yes, but a bit frightening."
"That too, but I suppose I'm use to it." He glanced at John's boarding pass. "Room 21. And this is your family I suppose." He checked their passes and nodded. "You can climb the ladder or take the lift."
John scaled the ladder with his eyes, all the way up the length of the rocket. "I think we'll take the lift."
"Good choice." said the attendant.
The Farsees stepped into an open air cage that was barely large enough to hold the four of them, and the attendant closed the door with a clang. He pushed a button and the cage climbed up along its track. The farsees traveled up through a tunnel that joined the complex with the waiting transport, just overhead. Next to the tunnel John could see the elevator cable, like a black tree stretching up to the sky. John looked closely and saw hundreds of smaller cables, each as thick as his thumb. Within these ropes he thought he could see the thin fullerene wires that gave the cable its phenomenal strength. Additional power and maintenance lines snaked along the outside, like ivy climbing a tree. The transport would ride up one of these guideways, which was affixed to the cable. Aside from the cable, he saw only ocean and sky.
The cage rose up into the tail of the rocket, past engines and power stations and fuel tanks and storage rooms. "Staterooms one and two." announced a synthesized voice. A door on the right was decorated with the number 1; the door on the left was room 2. "Three and four." continued the synthesized voice. "Five and six." John watched the rooms drift by, like a tall apartment building with two rooms on every floor. "Twenty one and twenty two." The cage stopped and the door opened. Maggie grabbed both children, since they could easily step off the platform and fall 35 stories to their death. John stared at door 21 for a moment, then located the handle. He opened it and stepped across the void into the room, their home for the next two weeks. "Don't look down." he advised as he reached for Mark. He carried him across and into the room, then he guided Tamara and Maggie. He closed the door, and he could hear the cage rattling back down to ground level.
Now that they were safe in their room, and away from everyone else, John could contain himself no longer. "How much did you give Mr. Hopkins?"
"One hundred eighty thousand leppas." Maggie made it sound like a trip to the store, as though she were buying steaks for dinner.
"One hundred eighty..." John was practically shouting, and Maggie put a finger to his lips. He started again, in subdued tones. "One hundred eighty thousand leppas? Where did you get that kind of money?"
"I sold the house."
John watched the kids exploring their stateroom, then turned back to Maggie. "I can't believe I didn't think of that."
Maggie explained. "A new house, with all the amenities, just a short walk from the lake. The realtor said it should fetch 420,000, but she wanted at least 100,000 leppas profit. And we owed 140,000 on the mortgage. That leaves 180,000 in cash."
"You saved us." He took her in his arms and kissed her on the cheek. "You saved our family." The cage rattled outside their door, ferrying four more passengers up the spine of the rocket.
for the first time in years, Maggie cried. She put her head against his chest and let her tears fall. The illegal schemes, the underground, the human solar cooker, and the bribes at every turn. The ordeal was just too much. "You taught me how the world works," she said through her tears, "and that saved us, but I don't think I'm the same person I was before. And I don't think you are either."
"The knowledge of good and evil." said John. "It's a necessary part of growing up, but it undermines our hope, our joy, and our ability to love."
"What about our children?" asked Maggie. "How long can they stay young at heart? Happy and playful and content, the way I use to be."
"A long time, I hope." He kissed her again. "Mars is not corrupt like Earth, and that's reason enough to go. And as for us, perhaps we can recapture our youth by looking at the world through their eyes."