Starclimber (4 page)

“Do you think there are any limits to the heights at which life can exist?” one of the shadowy gentlemen asked.

“I certainly know life can exist in all sorts of unlikely places,” she said. “But how high, I don’t know. That’s an area that needs a great deal more study.”

“Would you consider joining an expedition that would allow you to do just that?”

Kate blinked. “Instantly.”

“Well, then, perhaps we should talk further.”

“Excuse me, sir,” said Miss Simpkins primly. “Do we know you?”

As we all walked closer, the two gentlemen stood and moved out into the aisle, where they were more visible.

“My name is John McKinnon,” said a slim man in a finely tailored blue suit. “I’m the Canadian Minister of Air. And I believe you already know Mr. Lunardi.”

I was surprised enough by a cabinet minister, but now I stared at the second gentleman in amazement. He was most familiar to me from newspapers and newsreels. Mr. Otto Lunardi was the airship magnate who owned the
Aurora
. Two years ago, when the ship had returned to Sydney Harbor after escaping the clutches of Vikram Szpirglas, Mr. Lunardi had greeted the crew and shaken my hand.

He seemed large, even though he was surprisingly short. He had a boxer’s physique, compact and barrel-chested, with powerful shoulders and a large head. His body seemed barely able to contain all its energy. Even standing he was in motion, rocking back and forth, his quick, curious eyes darting from face to face, missing nothing.

“Miss de Vries and Mr. Cruse, it’s fine to see you both looking so well,” he said, shaking our hands heartily. “And, Miss de Vries, what a fascinating lecture that was.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Lunardi.”

“Precisely the kind of thing Sir John and I are looking for.”

“You’re involved in some kind of zoological research?” Kate asked with surprise.

“Much more than that. Much better. You’ll be interested too, Mr. Cruse. Or at least I hope so. It’s a bit stuffy in here, isn’t it? Let’s go for a walk. It’s a lovely day, and we have a great deal to talk about.”

O
utside, we crossed the street to the Luxembourg Gardens and strolled along its shady paths. Glancing between the trees, I caught glimpses of the honey-colored palace, and the fountain where children sailed toy boats. All around, people sat on benches and chairs and read or chatted. We walked along, the four of us, with Miss Simpkins trailing behind.

I felt quite tongue-tied in the presence of Mr. Lunardi. It wasn’t just his fame. Seeing him woke my memories of his son, Bruce. We’d sailed together on the
Aurora
’s fateful voyage. He’d helped save the ship from pirates, but Szpirglas had killed him. When Mr. Lunardi had met the ship in Sydney, it was to collect the body of his boy; and when he’d shaken my hand, the grief in his eyes had brought tears to mine.

Sir John led us down a set of steps to the fountain terrace and ushered us toward a group of empty chairs.

“Let’s enjoy the sun here, shall we?” he said, inviting us all to sit.

Rising above the trees to the east was the Celestial Tower, reaching ever higher into the sky. There was virtually nowhere in Paris you couldn’t see it. The sight of it made me think of the god Atlas, shouldering the weight of the entire world.

“You’re familiar with the work of Johannes Kepler, I’m sure,” said Mr. Lunardi, following my gaze.

“The German astronomer,” I replied. “The Laws of Planetary Motion. We studied them last term at the Academy.”

“The fellow was a visionary,” said Mr. Lunardi. “Must’ve felt he lived three hundred years too early. His eyes always on the sky, but never having the ability to go there. Did you read the letter he wrote to Galileo?”

I shook my head.

Mr. Lunardi smiled and cleared his throat. “Kepler wrote, ‘There will certainly be no lack of human pioneers when we have mastered the art of flight…. Let us create vessels and sails adjusted to the heavenly ether, and there will be plenty of people unafraid of the empty wastes. In the meantime, we shall prepare, for the brave sky travelers, maps of the celestial bodies—I shall do it for the moon, you, Galileo, for Jupiter.’” Mr. Lunardi chuckled. “Fabulous stuff, eh?”

“It’s very stirring,” Kate agreed.

“Here’s the matter at hand,” said Sir John, lowering his voice and leaning in toward us. “What I’m about to say is a matter of great secrecy, you understand, and I know I can trust the three of you, as patriotic Canadians, to respect that.”

Kate and I murmured our assent. I felt a prickling of gooseflesh across my neck.

“Our government,” Sir John resumed, “has entered into a joint venture with the Lunardi Corporation to explore outer space.”

I leaned forward so quickly, I nearly toppled out of my chair. I looked at Kate in amazement, then back at Sir John. “I didn’t even know the Canadians had a space program!”

“We’ve been keeping it all very hush-hush. We’re in the lead and we intend to stay there.”

“But the French—”

“Forget about the French,” said Mr. Lunardi. “They haven’t a hope. That tower will never make it through the stratosphere. It’s sad, really. One almost wants to say something, but there’s no arguing with the French.”

“You have a ship, then?” I asked.

“We have a very fine ship,” said Sir John. “Mr. Lunardi and his team have taken care of that.”

“We’ve been working on it for almost two years now,” Mr. Lunardi said, his eyes alight with enthusiasm. “The ship is built, and ready to fly.”

“We’re assembling a group of people we’d like to be on her maiden voyage,” said Sir John. “We want the best people in their fields. And you came to mind very quickly, Miss de Vries.”

“Did I?” she said, trying to sound surprised, but I don’t think she’d ever sounded more delighted.

“We’ve been following your work,” Mr. Lunardi said. Even sitting, the man crackled with energy, his hands aloft, gripping the air for emphasis. “And your lecture just now convinced me you’re exactly what we need—a set of fiercely inquisitive young eyes. If there’s life up there, you’ll find it.”

Kate seemed to positively blaze at these compliments. And I was burning just as brightly—with envy. They’d just invited her to take part in the first voyage into outer space! I would’ve given anything to be on that ship.

“Well, it’s very kind of you to think of me,” Kate said modestly.

“Will you join us, then, Miss de Vries?”

“I’d love to,” she said without a second’s hesitation.

“Your parents,” chimed in Miss Simpkins, speaking for the first time.

“Oh, my parents,” said Kate carelessly.

“We’d ask their consent, of course,” said Mr. Lunardi.

Kate waved her hand. “I wouldn’t bother—they’re terribly busy.”

“They’ll never consent,” said Miss Simpkins. “And you’ll not have me as a chaperone this time. Nothing could convince me to travel to outer space. I’ve had quite enough of your absurd adventures.”

“I won’t be bound by my parents’ wishes,” Kate said frostily. “Anyway, I don’t see why they’d need to know—would they, Marjorie?

She gave her chaperone a bright and terrifying smile.

Sir John cleared his throat. “Well, I’m afraid this isn’t something that can be kept secret, Miss de Vries. Once we announce the expedition and its crew, your name will appear in every newspaper in the world. Your parents will have to be told. And since you’re technically a minor, we would need their consent.”

“Shouldn’t present a problem,” Kate said breezily.

“I’ve met your father several times in Lionsgate City,” Mr. Lunardi said to Kate. “He seems a reasonable fellow, and I can wager he’d appreciate the historic magnitude of our venture. Let me speak to him. Perhaps I will be able to bend his ear a little.”

“You can peel his ear right off his head,” Miss Simpkins said, “but I can’t see it making any difference to Mr. de Vries.”

“If it’s propriety they’re worried about,” said Sir John, “there will be another woman aboard ship, so you’ll be properly chaperoned.”

“I do so like being chaperoned,” Kate murmured.

“And as for your safety,” Mr. Lunardi added, “I can assure you I’ve never built an unskyworthy vessel in my life. The captain and crew will be unrivaled in their expertise.”

“They’re lucky fellows,” I said.

“Indeed,” said Mr. Lunardi. “The first astralnauts.”

“The French are calling them
spationauts
,” I said.

“The French can call them whatever they wish,” said Mr. Lunardi, chuckling. “I’m sure their uniforms will be splendid. But they won’t be the ones in space. Which brings me to you, Mr. Cruse. How high would you like to fly?”

A smile soared across my face. “As high as I possibly can.”

“An excellent reply. We’re starting the training program next week, and we want you to take part.”

“Next week!” I said.

“You have a more pressing commitment, perhaps, Mr. Cruse?”

“It’s just…I have a job here for the summer.”

“At the Celestial Tower, yes—we made some inquiries,” said Sir John. “That’s not a problem. You can give notice immediately. The Ministry of Air has arranged very generous compensation for all the astralnaut trainees. Twelve hundred dollars, I believe.”

It was triple my salary for the entire summer. I knew what my mother would say, though. Once you’ve accepted a job, you should finish it. But only a fool wouldn’t seize this chance. I would’ve taken it for free.

“Not bad, eh, Mr. Cruse?” said Mr. Lunardi. “And that’s just for the training. If you’re selected for the expedition, there’ll be additional remuneration.”

My smile faltered. “So there’s no guarantee I’ll make it on?”

Lunardi shook his head. “Afraid not. But you’re an extremely promising candidate.”

“You came highly recommended,” said Sir John. “And space travel is for the young. We shan’t be looking at anyone over thirty for flight crew. We reckon it requires an entirely different set of skills than sky sailing.”

“I can’t imagine they’ll find anyone more able than you,” said Kate, with an encouraging smile, and though I smiled back, it irked me that she’d simply been invited while I had to prove myself.

“I mean to be on that ship,” I said to the two gentlemen.

Mr. Lunardi smiled. “Excellent.”

“The last century belonged to France,” said Sir John, “but this new one shall be Canada’s. We’re about to make Kepler’s dream come true.”

“May I see your chits, please?”

With a start we all looked up to see a uniformed park attendant looming over us, his little silver whistle dangling from his neck.

“Pardon me, our what?” asked Sir John.

“Chits.”
His exasperated gaze strayed past us, as though he couldn’t bear our stupidity.

“We have no chits,” I said.

“To
sit
you will need a
chit
. Do you know what a chit is, monsieur? A token, a ticket, that allows you to sit in one of the park chairs.”

“And where would we find such a chit?” asked Mr. Lunardi, sounding impatient.

“That must be bought at the chit counter.”

He pointed across the park, and I saw a small, shuttered kiosk.

“It looks closed,” I said.

“Of course it is closed, monsieur,” the attendant said. “It is three o’clock. Therefore, you will have to purchase your chits from another counter. I believe the one in the Champs de Mars is open.”

“But that’s miles from here!” Kate protested.

“Yes, mademoiselle.”

I looked around the park, at all the happy people sitting on benches and chairs. “All these people, they have chits, I suppose?”

“Of course. And if they do not, I will ferret them out, and they will be dispersed.”

“This is incredible,” I said.

“I direct you, monsieur, to the park rules, located,
ironically
, not ten paces behind you.”

I turned to see a tall wrought-iron post on which was framed a large, impressive notice.
REGLEMENTS DU PARC
, it said in bold black letters. Underneath, in print almost too small to read, were six columns of rules.

“This is absurd,” said Kate. “We do not have chits. We will not get chits.”

The attendant clucked his tongue. “No, no, mademoiselle, I am very sorry, you must have chits.”

Kate gave a disdainful wave of her hand. “I poo-poo the chit.”

The attendant looked stunned. “You cannot poo-poo the chit!”

“I do,” she said solemnly. “I do poo-poo.”

“We’ll walk,” I said, standing.

“Normally, monsieur, that would be fine, but now that I have exposed you as chit
délinquents
, I must ask you to leave the park
immédiatement
.”

“Look here, do you know whom you’re talking to,” said Sir John, whose face had taken on a scarlet shade.

“I do not care, monsieur. These are rules that must be obeyed by all. We are not lawless hooligans like you Americans.”

“Canadians, actually,” said Mr. Lunardi.

“I see little difference between you.”

Behind us, someone started shrieking. We whirled around to see an elegant middle-aged woman swatting in terror at Kate’s aerozoan hatchling. It had ensnared her little poodle with its tentacles and was doing its best to pluck the stunned dog off the ground.

“Phoebe!” cried Kate.

“Quel monstre!”
shrieked the woman.
“Au secours! Gendarme!”

“I think someone needs your help,” I told the attendant.

He turned, saw sparks flying from the aerozoan’s small tentacles. Without even lifting an eyebrow, he turned back to me.

“This is not my responsibility. Your name, monsieur. You leave me no choice but to write you a chit delinquency ticket.”

“May we borrow your jacket?” Kate asked, already yanking it off the attendant's shoulders. “We may be able to catch her. Come on, Matt!”

“That is my jacket,” said the bewildered attendant.

We ran toward the lady, who’d just received a zap and was now whimpering under the bench. Phoebe was still struggling to lift the dog off the ground, but it was proving too heavy.

“We’re coming, Phoebe!” Kate called out.

But Phoebe did not want to be caught. She seemed to sense our approach, and as Kate threw the jacket, she released the dog and shot high into the air, narrowly avoiding getting tangled in the branches of a chestnut tree.

“Oh, dear!” Kate said.

A few people in the park watched the aerozoan’s escape but must have thought it was just a fancy balloon. They looked away, unimpressed.

“My jacket, monsieur,” said the attendant frostily. I picked it up, dusted it off, and held it to him.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” I said, offering my hand to the lady under the bench. She ignored me and rushed to her poodle. The dog was whining piteously, but he seemed all right, just a bit singed. The park attendant strode over and peered severely from the dog to its owner.

“Madame, may I see your dog’s chit, please,” he said.

Kate and I took this opportunity to rejoin the others, and we walked on. Kate kept peering up through the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of Phoebe.

“Your aerozoan seems to have a taste for Paris,” Mr. Lunardi remarked.

“Well, who doesn’t like Paris?” Kate said.

“You’ll have to say
au revoir
to the City of Lights for the time being,” Mr. Lunardi said to us. “We want you both in Lionsgate City by Thursday.”

“Lionsgate City?” I said. “Is that where the training is?”

“I thought that would please you,” said Mr. Lunardi. “You’re going home.”