William Forstchen - Into the Sea of Stars

If Shelley had any positive feature, it was her ability to cover his tail when it came to paperwork and organization. Only Shelley could make any sense out of lan's data files-if Ian had to run up his data by himself he would soon be totally lost… lan's contemplation of Shel ley ended as the liftcraft attendant turned on the infor mation channel.

"Welcome to Brasilia Station, Skyhook 4. Your liftcraft is now preparing for departure."

Shelley turned to Ian with a bewildered look and he realized that her chair speaker was set for Portuguese. Turning the switch on her armrest to English, he settled back and tried to calm his nerves.

"We apologize for any inconvenience you may have suffered because of the malfunctioning air-conditioning system. Now that you are aboard the liftcraft you may rest assured that our crew will see to your every comfort."

Some of the hundred-odd passengers laughed, but their biting comments about the competence of the staff and the safety of the liftcraft didn't help Ian in the slightest.

"Our transit time to Geosync Station 4 will be eleven hours and twenty minutes…" The voice droned on about emergency procedures and safety regulations, but lan's thoughts had already drifted away.

The liftcar started to shake, and Shelley's hand dug into his forearm. "What was that?" she whispered hoarsely.

Ian pointed out the window and smiled at her as if she were a naive child.

"Why, we've started up, that's all."

The car silently started its ascent up the vertical track, exerting a slight pressure in the pit of his stomach. Sud denly they cleared the interior of the Brasilia station and broke into the tropical sunlight. Their speed was already better than a kilometer a minute and the ground dropped away.

How undramatic this all is, Ian thought sadly, even though he fully realized that he would have been terrified by the old way of trans-Earth lift-off. The days of chemical rockets belching scarlet plumes of incandescent flame were gone forever. Never would he have the chance to go roar ing into the heavens atop a crackling, thundering throne of fire. That was gone, long since gone-a distant memory already half a hundred years past, now that the Skyhook Towers girdled the equator with a ring of spokes. The towers rose tens of thousands of kilometers to geosync and yet that distance beyond for the necessary counter-weighting. The trip into space was reduced to a simple elevator ride; a very long elevator ride, to be sure, but lacking the thundering grandeur of so long ago.

Shelley was quickly glued to the window as they rose up and away. At the twenty-kilometer level the curvature of the Earth was ever so slightly visible, and Ian could see the deepening indigo of their destination. Pressing up against the window alongside Shelley, he looked down on the Earth, which was dropping away with ever-increasing speed.

For long minutes Shelley stayed pressed to the win dow, until a faint groan sounded alongside her. "Dr. Lack lin, what's wrong?"

"Just thinking about zero G, that's all"-he moaned feebly-"just thinking about zero G." And he fumbled through the storage pouch alongside his chair, making sure that the white plastic bags were there, ready for his use.

The acceleration was light but constant, as if a gentle hand were pushing them back into their couches. Zero gravity would not occur until the car arrived at the geosync station, where their velocity in relationship to the Earth would cancel out their potential rate of fall.

But Ian attempted to divert his thoughts from that dreaded moment by looking out at the indigo band that marked the upper reaches of the Earth's atmosphere.

As if on cue, the steward appeared, pushing a cart laden with the more potent forms of liquid relaxant. Ian handed over a fiver, pointed with three fingers to a dark amber bottle, and an icy triple of rum was produced.

He settled back into his chair and took a long, refresh ing sip. So he was embarking on the great journey, fol lowing the path of his heroes on their outward reach to the stars. How often he had tried to romanticize this to his bored students, who viewed the exploration of space with not one-tenth the interest that was reserved for the afternoon video love shows. How he longed for the world of a millennium earlier, when things were held in their proper perspective.

Idiots! At least I'm away from them. He took another swallow. In spite of his fears, Ian felt a tingling, a surge of excitement. He was reaching out along the same path that millions had followed so long ago. He would at last have the chance to follow them outward and discover the secret of their odyssey.

The thought set his heart to pounding. He was about to realize the ultimate fantasy of any good historian-to come face to face with the past. With luck he might even find a Mitsubishi Habitat, or one of the old O'Neill Cyl inders. Ian knew historians who would joyfully have killed their mothers if it meant a chance to meet with Churchill or to witness the Mongol burning of Kiev. And here was his chance, his dream coming out to meet him. He could remember how Lelezi dreamed of finding a tape showing a Saturn V lift-off. Sure, once that would have given Ian a thrill, but now he was going for far bigger game.

The steward came by again and Ian waved for another triple. Shelley gave him a frown.

His mind lapsed into happy reverie. He could imag ine meeting in secret with Smith and the Council of Ten as they made their momentous decision to abandon Earth on the eve of the Holocaust War. Yes, Ian Lacklin, announcing to a startled world the forming of the Alliance and the Declaration of Severance…

"It's wonderful, just simply wonderful!"

Several heads turned to look at him, but he didn't give a damn. Hell no, they can all kiss off. He was Ian Lacklin, noted historian, soon to be explorer. Why, damn it, once he returned from this voyage, there wouldn't be a pub lisher in the country crazy enough to turn down his man uscripts. He'd have it made. Yes sir, he could snap his fingers at the Chancellor, why, even the Governor could kiss his butt. The thought of such a thing made him laugh out loud. And to think that just a week ago he was terrified about the Governor's ever finding out about him and what's-her-name.

And the Chancellor, yeah the Chancellor. Good-bye to that rotten SOB and all the bureaucratic nightmares of teaching at a government-run institution. No more damned memos about using the correct forms, or inventories re porting how many erasers were missing, or asinine edu cation courses. No sir, Ian thought, no more faculty meetings, and most of all, no more educational politics. "No more!" he shouted out loud. "Say, steward, get over here if you please, my good man."

Shelley was looking around the cabin in mortal em barrassment, when an insistent warning beeper suddenly kicked on. "All passengers, this is your flight director. Please be sure that your safety belts are fastened." Ian paid it no heed.

Shelley looked over at Ian and made sure that he was strapped in.

"We have reached maximum velocity; our acceleration will terminate in ten seconds. You'll experience a mo mentary sensation of lightness when acceleration cuts out. We know you'll enjoy it as a pleasant foretaste of zero G at Geosync 4. Thank you."

"And you know what I'd like to tell Miss Redding, Miss C.C. Set Procedures Redding right now?" Ian shouted.

Shelley looked at him wide-eyed. In her entire sheltered experience of university parents and honors dor mitories, she had never been forced to deal with a drunken male.

She was still searching for an apt response when the acceleration cut off. Shelley suddenly felt as if she had been riding an elevator (which indeed she was) and the vehicle had slowed while she kept going. Her stomach felt as if it were climbing out her mouth.