Starclimber (12 page)

“T
his is you, is it not, Mr. Cruse?” asked Sir John McKinnon, the Minister of Air. He pointed to the photograph on the front page of the
Lionsgate Times-Herald
. There I was beside Kate, among a large group of jailed suffragettes, some of whom looked very pleased to have their pictures in the paper.

“It is, sir, but I can explain.”

It was first thing Monday morning, and I’d been summoned to Mr. Lunardi’s office. He sat behind his desk, glowering. Captain Walken stood nearby, his face grave.

“I hope it’s a very good explanation, Mr. Cruse,” said Sir John.

I told them, as simply as I could, about the window-smashing incident, and how my presence was just an unhappy coincidence.

“You had no idea what Miss de Vries meant to do?” Sir John asked.

“None, sir.”

“The young lady’s very strong willed,” said Captain Walken. “We saw that when the
Aurora
was shipwrecked.”

“If I’d known she was a suffragette,” said Sir John, “I’d never have invited her. Our government doesn’t look kindly on anarchists. Smashing windows! What a load of nonsense!”

I took a breath. “But her cause is right, sir.”

“What’s that?” Sir John snapped.

It was too late to go back now. “Women should have the right to vote, sir.”

“Outlandish,” said Sir John. “I won’t hear of it.”

I looked from Mr. Lunardi to Captain Walken, wondering what they were thinking. I worried I’d just set myself apart from all of them. It was a very lonely feeling, but I’d said what I believed, and wouldn’t try to take it back.

“I’m sure,” Mr. Lunardi said carefully, “that we all have our own views of the suffragettes. But let’s put them aside for now. Politics has no place on our expedition.”

“It’s not that simple,” said Sir John. “Miss de Vries’s name and photograph are in the paper. If we publicly announce she’s part of our expedition, there will be an outcry. I won’t have her besmirching the Canadian space program. She’s out, gentlemen.”

I was about to object, but Captain Walken caught my eye and silenced me with a small shake of his head.

“I think that would be a great shame,” Captain Walken said to Sir John. “Miss de Vries can be headstrong, certainly, but I’ve never met a young lady who’s smarter or braver.”

Mr. Lunardi nodded. “At such short notice, it’ll be difficult, if not impossible, to find someone of her caliber.”

“We can delay the launch,” said Sir John. “In any event, I don’t see what choice we have.”

“We do have a choice, and it’s ours to make,” said Mr. Lunardi, standing and pacing, hands thrust into his pocket. “I’ll be frank. I wish Miss de Vries hadn’t got her picture in the paper, but I don’t want to replace her for it. She’s perfect for this expedition, and I know you feel the same.”

“The government of Canada—” Sir John began to say, but Mr. Lunardi cut him off.

“I’m an equal partner in this venture, and I don’t want second best here. I despise compromises for appearance’s sake. My ship is ready to launch, and I don’t think anyone, including the Prime Minister, would want us to delay and risk being beaten by another country.”

It was quite a speech, and I was awfully impressed—and grateful.

Sir John gave a harrumph and gazed out the window. “Very well, we’ll keep her on, but I’ll be writing her a very stiff letter this morning, forbidding her from any more suffragette shenanigans.” The Minister of Air looked at me. “And what of Mr. Cruse here?”

“He’s blameless,” said Mr. Lunardi. “I’ll make sure the paper prints as much in the evening edition.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, feeling completely wrung out.

“You’re free to go, Mr. Cruse,” said Mr. Lunardi. “And good luck today.”

Captain Walken came out into the hallway with me. “That young woman has a habit of getting you into trouble,” he said with a chuckle. “I can still see the two of you on the island after the
Aurora
was shipwrecked. She’d dragooned you into searching the jungle with her, and you two came out after the typhoon hit soaked to the skin. I don’t think I’d ever seen a lad look more miserable.”

“It was the ship, sir, seeing her so tattered and torn.”

The captain gave me a kind look. “When I wasn’t much older than you, I had a rather ill-advised romance. I was like you, Matt, from a humble family, but her people were very wealthy. It caused no end of trouble.”

I looked at him in surprise, for I’d never known this about him. But I feared what he would say next.

“Everyone told us no good could come of it,” Captain Walken said.

“What happened, sir?” I asked.

“I married her,” he said, and grinned. “We had our thirtieth anniversary this year.”

I grinned back. “I like the ending to that story.”

“Put her from your thoughts now and get some breakfast, Matt. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

“Gentlemen,” said Captain Walken as he stood on the pool deck, “here is your situation, and it is a dire one. The hull of your ship has been breached and you are outside to replace the damaged metal plate. Time is of the essence; the ship is losing pressure and oxygen, and you have only half an hour. What’s more, you’re working on the dark side of the ship, and your helmet-mounted lamp is your only source of illumination. Work swiftly; every second counts.”

There were ten of us suited up, just waiting to have our helmets put on. I knew the captain wasn’t just being dramatic. We were being timed, and if I did poorly this morning, I hadn’t a hope. My stomach was in knots.

“Good luck, Matt,” Tobias said beside me.

“You too.”

“Hey, Cruse, what’s that on your back?” Bronfman asked.

“What is it?” I asked, worried something was wrong with my suit.

Some of the other fellows were looking over at me and laughing, but I couldn’t see what they were looking at, or reach it with my stiff arms. Tobias turned me around, and snorted. He peeled off a piece of paper and handed it to me.
VOTES FOR WOMEN
, it said.

I couldn’t help chuckling. “Good one, Bronfman.”

He frowned at me, like he wasn’t sure if I was being sarcastic. But I was honestly grateful for the joke.

“Good luck, Cruse,” Shepherd said, as an assistant put his helmet over his head.

“Thanks, Shepherd,” I said in surprise.

“You’re going to need it,” he said.

I looked over at Tobias and shook my head. “I thought he was actually being nice there for a second.”

“Don’t worry about him,” Tobias said with a wink. “Remember: you’re a shark.”

And then there was no more time to talk, for the helmet was coming down over my head. I took one last breath of free air. The clamp snapped tight. We all took our places under the cranes, and the winches lifted us up and swung us out over the water. Overhead, the rows of lamps shut down one by one, and then I was sinking fast, my helmet lantern boring a lonely column of light into the dark water.

I touched down, felt my suit inflating to make me weightless, and got to work. This was my fourth dive, and though I still battled feelings of panic, I was a bit more practiced at moving underwater. My pulse beat like a clock, reminding me I only had thirty minutes.

I reached my segment of ship’s hull, a curving metal wall about ten feet high. In the pitch darkness, it took me a minute to find the damaged plate, and my heart sank. It was high up. I carefully climbed the metal rungs protruding from the hull. Four bolts needed removing, and I pulled the socket wrench from my tool pouch and began. It was slow, exhausting work, but it went smoothly. The last bolt soon fell to the pool floor, followed by the damaged plate.

I took some deep breaths. I didn’t feel panicky. I was starting to like the weightlessness, though I still hated being enclosed in the suit.

Now to install the new plate. I’d seen it earlier, tilted against the hull on the pool bottom. I climbed back down the rungs, grabbed it, and went back up. This part was much harder, for I somehow had to hold the plate in place while driving the first bolt home. Wedging my boots into two footholds, I grasped a handhold above the plate, holding the plate in place with my body. With my one free hand, I gripped the socket wrench. I was already soaked with sweat.

It would’ve been impossible to handle something as small as a bolt in a gloved hand. Luckily Lunardi’s team had invented a new kind of socket wrench, with a hollow shaft, with the bolts already loaded inside, one behind the other, ready to screw in.

One went in, then the second. I was making good time. I readjusted my grip on the wrench—and dropped it. I made a grab for it, but it had already fallen out of the circle of light from my lamp, and I missed.

Clumsily I pushed myself down the hull, jerking my helmet lamp in all directions, seeing nothing. Without that wrench I couldn’t finish the job. My seconds and minutes were ticking away. My visor started to fog from my panting. I staggered about in despair. Then I felt someone grip my shoulder. I looked up and saw Tobias, holding my wrench up for me.

“Thank you,” I wheezed inside my helmet.

He pressed the wrench into my hand and I gripped it tightly. Then he stepped back, signaled with his hands, and floated up as his suit inflated. He was already done, and I had only two more bolts to put in place.

I hauled myself up the hull once more. Got the third bolt in. But before I could do the fourth, my suit inflated and I was lifted up through the water, the wrench still in my hand, my task unfinished. I’d run out of time.

Strapped into our parawing packs, we perched on bench seats, facing one another across the cramped airship cabin as we climbed to eleven thousand feet.

Earlier in the day we’d sprinted through a series of other tests, but this was the final one.

“Five minutes, gents,” Eriksson shouted above the engine noise. “The landing zone’s much smaller this time around. We’re looking for accuracy and speed here.”

We’d already done three jumps during the training program, but I’d had even more practice at the Academy. I was good with the wings; I understood the air and knew how to ride the wind. But I was still nervous about this jump. I felt tired in every muscle of my body, and I figured I needed to do well, very well, to make up for my poor showing in the pool. Even so, I wasn’t sure it would be enough. The two Aeroforce test pilots were also experienced parawingers, especially Shepherd. I’d hoped I could at least be best at this one thing, but I’d seen Shepherd come in swift and steep as a falcon. I didn’t know if he was as good as me, but he was close.

I looked over at Tobias. I knew he was anxious. He managed with his wings, but it didn’t come naturally to him. I could see his right hand in his pocket, rubbing the bit of space rock for good luck. His eyes moved restlessly around the cabin.

“What’re you scribbling now, Eriksson?” he asked.

Our group leader didn’t even look up.

“I want a look at that clipboard,” Tobias said. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I want to know what they’re saying about me.”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Eriksson said.

“How many of us are going to outer space?” I asked. “Just give us a number. Can’t hurt now.”

“Sorry, gents.”

Tobias reached across and yanked the clipboard from Eriksson’s hands.

“Hey, Blanchard!” Eriksson grabbed for it, but Tobias tossed it to me. Laughing, I tossed it on to Perry, who kept it going, while Eriksson scrambled after it.

“This is confidential information!” he exclaimed.

The clipboard landed in Shepherd’s lap and he calmly picked it up and held it out to Eriksson.

“Thanks, Shepherd.”

“We already know
we’re
going to outer space,” Bronfman said with a smirk.

Tobias looked at me, his mouth twitching. “Someone never got the modesty talk from Mommy,” he said, and I wondered if the unaccustomed altitude was making him giddy. But I couldn’t stop my laughter from joining his, and before long half the other fellows were chuckling too.

“Pull yourselves together, gents,” said Eriksson, still looking a bit miffed. “We’re almost over the drop zone. Double-check your harnesses.”

As Eriksson stood, I saw a small crate, pushed back underneath the bench seat. I suddenly felt very sober.

“What’s that?” I asked. “Under your seat.”

“Hmm?” Eriksson glanced down distractedly. “Don’t know.”

“If you don’t know, who does?” I said.

“Just some extra gear, likely. What’s the problem, Cruse?”

“Someone should know what the box is,” I said, my heart kicking against my ribs. There must have been a tone of command in my voice, because Eriksson stared at me with surprise.

“Cruse is having a little case of nerves,” Bronfman remarked.

“You think there’s something in there?” Tobias asked me, frowning.

“Cruse is right,” said Shepherd. “Who brought that crate aboard?”

None of the other trainees knew anything about it. Eriksson went up front to ask the two pilots. I saw them both look back and shake their heads.

“You think that little thing’s a bomb?” Bronfman demanded.

I swallowed. “I’m going to find out.” I stood and pulled the crate carefully out from underneath the bench. It was marked
PEARSON’S AIR CHANDLERY
. I opened the clasp and pulled back the lid. Nestled in wood shavings were two replacement running lights for the ship.

“You’re a hero, Cruse,” sneered Bronfman.

I felt a bit embarrassed, but I wasn’t sorry I’d done it. I wouldn’t ever forget that afternoon aboard my aerocrane.

Tobias clapped my shoulder. “Better safe than sorry,” he said.

“All right,” said Eriksson, “thank you for that little bit of drama, Cruse. Now let’s get to it, shall we? Blanchard, you’re out first, Cruse next…”

He ran through the jump order and opened the cabin’s hatch. He pointed.

“Your landing site is that field. It’s about two miles due north. You’re going to have to do some flying to get there. Go!”

I watched Tobias’s face clench, and then he jumped.