Authors: Helen Douglas
‘When will Ryan’s ship arrive?’
‘Tomorrow morning. They’ll dock at eleven and leave at two.’
‘I thought they got to stay overnight?’
‘No. This is an expedited transfer. Ryan will only be aboard the spaceport for three hours. Long enough for the prison transport to refuel and for a crew change. I’ll do my best to arrange for you to see him, Eden, but I can’t promise anything.’
He opened the door back into the hallway where Peg was waiting.
‘Pegasus, your berthing area is directly across from Eden’s,’ said Ben. ‘I’d be delighted if the two of you would join me at my table for dinner tonight in the Officers’ Club on A Deck. Shall we say seven o’clock?’
‘We’ll be there,’ I said, waving the map, ‘so long as we can find it.’
‘We don’t have much time,’ said Peg quietly, as soon as Ben had left. ‘It’s nearly five o’clock now. Dinner with Ben at seven. That could run till nine. Then we have orientation at nine in the morning. Ry’s ship arrives at eleven. If we’re going to explore this spaceport before he gets here, it’s going to have to be at night.’
‘I think Ben’s trying to help us, Peg. He told me what time Ryan’s ship will arrive and the time the prison ship will leave. He told me that Ryan would be escorted to the holding cell on A Deck.’
Peg shook his head. ‘I think you’re wrong. Ben’s the captain of this spaceport. Anything that goes wrong is going to reflect badly on him. I think he’s deliberately trying to keep us busy.’
The Officers’ Club had a very different feel to the rest of the spaceport. Where the other rooms were bare and functional – all metal and strip lights – the club was wood-panelled with dim lighting. The captain’s table, which was covered with a heavy, white tablecloth and laid with silver cutlery, was placed next to a large window that looked out into the darkness. Through the window, more stars than I had ever seen made patterns in the sky, their light brighter and steadier than they were on Earth. The bright blue glow of the Earth was just beyond the reach of the window.
Ben was already seated when we arrived, as was another man, younger than Ben, dressed in a smart uniform covered with insignias and badges.
Both men stood as we approached. Ben made all the introductions.
‘This is my first officer, Milo Jackson. This is Eden Anfield, a colleague from a time mission and her friend Pegasus Ryder.’
We all shook hands and sat down. I was disappointed; I had hoped to probe Ben to see if there was any chance he would help us. With the first officer present we were going to have to be careful.
Within seconds of sitting down, a waiter appeared with a bottle of champagne. Our glasses were filled and Ben proposed a toast.
‘To old friends,’ he said. ‘And new beginnings.’
We clinked glasses, the pleasant tinkling throwing me back to a different time, when Ryan and I had sat on a beach with glasses of champagne, toasting his return to 2012. Then it had seemed as if we had for ever stretching ahead of us. We’d had just six days. I pretended to sip my champagne, but I swallowed nothing. If Peg and I were going to come up with a plan, we needed to keep our wits about us.
‘As first officer, I am in charge of the welfare of all the crew aboard this spaceport,’ Milo was saying. ‘Since you are good friends of the captain, I will take a personal interest in your careers. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to assist you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Peg with a broad smile. ‘I was training to be an engineer back on Earth. I worked in the repair yard in Lakeborough. Shuttles mainly. I’d love to get back into that field again if any openings become available.’
This was clearly an area of interest to Milo Jackson. While the soup – something green and minty – was served and eaten, they talked about different classes of shuttles, favourite ships, engines, fuel efficiency, the virtues of Icelandic engineering over Burmese.
‘We have a small shipyard on the spaceport,’ said Milo. ‘Perhaps, after we finish dinner, I could show you around it.’
The main course was served, a savoury pancake filled with green sludge I now knew was a popular seaweed, served with carrots and cauliflower on the side.
‘Is all the food transported by ship?’ I asked. ‘It must be very expensive.’
‘Much of our food comes on supply ships,’ said Ben. ‘But on the lowest deck of the spaceport we have a large hothouse for growing fruit and vegetables. The sun’s energy keeps it at a constant temperature. It supplies ninety per cent of our produce.’
‘We even have an artificial sea,’ said the first officer. ‘It’s small of course, but large enough to grow seaweed. Our kelp grows at an average of two metres a day.’
‘That’s incredible,’ I said.
‘Kelp is one of the fastest growing plants in the world,’ said Ben. ‘But it does especially well here on the spaceport.’
I had nothing against seaweed in general – but the fishy green sludge on my plate was not remotely appetising.
‘After your induction tomorrow, I can give you a tour of the spaceport,’ said Milo.
I smiled, but that was the last thing we needed. Peg and I had little enough time to devise an escape plan and put it into action.
‘Are there any time-ships docked at the spaceport?’ I asked.
‘Time-ships go straight to Earth,’ said Ben, catching my eye. ‘Most of the ships that dock here are shuttles and cargo ships.’
‘That’s too bad,’ I said. ‘The only time-ship I’ve ever seen is the one I travelled on.’
‘Four-dimensional travel is very dangerous,’ said Ben. ‘You’re best off staying well away from it.’
‘If Admiral Wolfe wins the presidency of the Space and Time Institute, all time-ships will be decommissioned,’ said Peg. ‘There will be no more time travel.’
Ben shook his head. ‘That would be a great pity. I believe there’s a place for carefully regulated time travel.’
‘Talking of Westland,’ said the first officer through a mouthful of green sludge, ‘weren’t you involved with his son?’ He was looking at me.
I shrugged. ‘We knew each other. We were friends. Nothing more.’
‘But on the news they said . . .’
‘All lies,’ I said, reaching across the table for Peg’s hand. ‘A way for Admiral Wolfe to discredit the Westland family.’
I watched Milo Jackson notice our joined hands.
‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ he said. ‘Wolfe is an ambitious man. He’ll stop at nothing to win the presidency and shut down Westland Shipyards. He’s even using the Westland boy’s transport to the moon as a campaign opportunity. He’s coming along himself, together with his son and a host of reporters.’
‘Really?’ I said, feigning surprise. ‘I don’t suppose I would be allowed on board to say goodbye to him?’
‘I doubt that very much,’ said the first officer. ‘Tight security. Admiral Wolfe wouldn’t allow it.’
After dessert and coffee, Peg went off with Milo Jackson for a quick tour of the shipyard. Ben walked me back to my quarters.
‘Eden,’ he said as we took the lift down to B Deck. ‘I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but I hope you don’t think you can rescue Ryan. It’s not possible. The spaceport has tight security and if you were caught trying something, security would shoot first and ask questions later.’
‘I understand. I’m not trying anything.’
He placed a hand on my shoulder. ‘You can make a good life here. Work your way up. Make good money.’
‘That’s all I want,’ I said. ‘To live a good life.’
There were two women in my berthing area now, both undressed and in the process of washing their faces.
‘Hi, roomie,’ one of them called, waving a hand in my direction.
I waved back and counted silently to twenty, long enough for Ben to get back to the lift. I opened the door. The dimmed lighting that signalled night-time cast a warm pink glow on the walls, so that as I stumbled along the curved passageway, I had the strangest impression that I was walking inside a blood vessel. Peg had the map Ben had given us, but I had carefully memorised the route from my room to the lifts. I passed dozens of slim doors that led to tiny berthing areas just like mine, but not a single person.
I reached the lifts and pressed the call button. With no map, I wasn’t sure what I should do, but I wanted to locate a few key places. Ryan’s ship would arrive at the landing bay on A Deck. Temporary accommodation was also on A Deck. With the little information I had, it seemed Ryan’s entire stay aboard the spaceport would be centred on A Deck.
The lift arrived and the door opened. No one was inside. I pressed the button for A Deck and concocted a cover: I’d left my handbag in the Officers’ Club. No one would know I’d never owned a handbag in my life.
The curved passageways of A Deck were equally deserted. I walked straight ahead, trying to commit the layout to memory. I counted twenty-four doors before I reached the entrance to security and the landing bay beyond. The walk between security and the lift had taken me about two minutes.
‘Can I help you?’ asked a tall female security officer.
‘I’m trying to find my way back to the Officers’ Club,’ I said.
‘Keep walking,’ she said, pointing along the passageway I’d been following. ‘It’s a little way along there.’
I thanked her and continued. I passed a holding cell with a bored-looking security guard sitting at a desk reading something on her port-com. Someone had handwritten a sign that said
Vacancies
and stuck it to the door. I kept walking. I passed toilets and a store cupboard, a cleaning cupboard and then came to the double doors that led into the club. Just as I was about to push the door open, it swung out and I came face to face with Ben.
‘Eden?’ he said, the surprise clear in his voice. ‘What are you doing back up here?’ The door swung shut behind him and latched with a faint hiss.
Somehow I didn’t think he would believe I was looking for my handbag. ‘Looking for Pegasus.’
‘Milo was taking him for a quick tour of the landing bay,’ said Ben. There was a touch of impatience in his voice. ‘He’s probably back in his berth by now.’
I took a step backwards. ‘I’ll go back down and see if he’s there.’
‘It takes a few days to get used to the rhythm of life aboard the spaceport,’ he said. ‘The central section of the port rotates on its axis every twenty-four hours to help with circadian rhythms in our workforce, but even so, most people take a while to adjust. You should try to sleep.’
I strode quickly back along the passageway, past the security checkpoint to the lift. Peg was there, touching the call button.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘Exploring.’
‘And?’ He looked at me expectantly.
‘I bumped into Ben and he told me to go back to my berth. How about you?’
‘I have good news,’ he said quietly.
The lift arrived. Peg waited until we were inside before telling me. ‘He took me out on the landing bay where we arrived. There’s a small shipyard there and he wanted to show me some of the things they’re working on.’
He touched the button for C Deck.
‘What about security?’ I asked.
‘Milo was with me so it wasn’t a problem that I didn’t have ID yet. But that’s not the good news.’
The lift doors opened on to C Deck.
‘What are we doing down here?’ I asked.
‘That’s just it,’ said Peg, taking my arm. ‘Milo told me that there’s a small boat deck on C Deck where the evacuation craft are kept. They’re like lifeboats. You only use them if there’s an emergency. I want to find them.’
He let go of my arm and walked out into the lobby.
‘Peg,’ I whispered, half running to catch up. ‘What if someone sees us? It’s ten o’clock at night. We shouldn’t be here.’
‘We say we’re lost.’
Unlike the twisting guts of B Deck, C Deck had a large central lobby with four passageways leading off it, like the spokes of a steering wheel. There were no signs pointing the way.
‘Choose a passageway,’ said Peg.
I turned in a circle. ‘Wait. If these shuttles are for emergency evacuation, there must be directions to them. You don’t hide the lifeboats.’
There was a noticeboard by the lifts. A laminated sign at the bottom of the board gave instructions for evacuation.
‘Found it,’ I said. ‘First left and follow the fluorescent green arrows.’
The left-hand passageway took us past a library and a storeroom. The boat deck was at the end. Although the hatchway to the deck was sealed, there was a reinforced glass panel in the hatch. Peg pushed his face against the glass to peer in.
‘Can you see anything?’ I asked.
‘Not really. It looks like there must be several shuttles inside, each within their own airlock. But I’m not sure.’
‘How do we get in?’
He stepped back from the glass. ‘There’s a swipe machine by the door here. I guess you swipe your ID card.’
‘We get our ID tomorrow. Do you think our cards will open this hatch?’
Peg shrugged. ‘No idea. There must be a way to trigger the hatch, though. If it’s for emergencies, it needs to be accessible.’