Destroyer from the Lost Planet, page 7
“Why would anyone want to sleep here?” asked Catharine incredulously.
Zia said, “The vastness of space is such that traveling through it can be quite dull, even at a couple of million miles per day. Besides, if you sit here, Enkidu can happily regale you with stories of Earth’s past.”
“Oh, boy, Bible stories,” muttered Catharine sarcastically.
David snickered. “As long as Enkidu doesn’t fall asleep.”
Zia shook his head reassuringly. “Enkidu doesn’t sleep, nor does he grow bored. He’s on duty all day every day. He doesn’t even need food or bathroom breaks.”
Catharine quipped, “Like the perfect daddy. If we bicker, will he threaten to turn this craft right around?”
Zia shook his head and smiled benevolently at Catharine. “Wicked girl. Would you want him to?”
Zia led them to the dorm. There were two separate chambers, each with three bunks. Catharine plopped onto one and admired the mattress. “These are the best bunks I’ve ever seen onboard … any means of conveyance.”
Zia pointed to a webbed restraint mechanism on each mattress. “Don’t forget to buckle yourself in before you drift off.” He glowered at Catharine. “And I’m quite serious about that. Otherwise, if you run into an emergency, you could find yourself unable to get your bearings or even end up splattered on the ceiling.”
“Speaking of emergencies,” said David, peering up at an instructional poster, “I see the posters are in English.”
“Would you prefer a different alphabet?” asked Zia.
“Like cuneiform?” said David.
Zia laughed. “Be careful what you wish for. That can be arranged.” He escorted them through a little gym where all the equipment was bolted to the airframe, to a latrine with showers and a small row of lockers.
David glanced around. “You know, we haven’t seen the maintenance crew?”
Zia shrugged. “As for Enkidu, we know where he is. As for the others, they’re probably running diagnostics, testing moving parts, and so on. Let’s return to the pyramidion and get a meal … one you won’t need to eat in zero gravity.”
Chapter 5
After tossing and turning all night, David rose, put on his formal ambassador’s suit and went to the commissary, where Catharine awaited him in a skirted dress-blue uniform. For the moment, the place was pleasantly quiet. They each grabbed a cup of coffee and a roll. While on their second cup, their solitude was interrupted by Doctor Zia, Gary, and Hendrick.
“There they are,” said Gary. “Well, lieutenant commander, you look fresh as a daisy. David, you look like you’ve been wrestlin’ with angels all night.”
“That bad?” asked David.
Hendrick was amused. “Don’t worry about missing sleep. Doctor Zia tells us that a half hour after you jump to operating speed, you’ll be dozing the whole way there.”
Zia added, “The vessel’s entertainment center is jammed with Earth’s movies and television shows, every novel ever written, and headphones for privacy and quiet. I expect, like most Anunnaki, you’ll fall asleep before you get far into any of them.”
Although their small group was alone in the commissary at this hour, David softly said to Zia, “Our spacecraft easily sleeps six—”
“Eight,” Zia corrected, “if you count the visitors’ chairs in the cockpit.”
David continued. “Should we allow anyone else aboard?”
Zia searched his memory. “Standard operating procedure would dictate that no one else comes aboard, except for necessary repairs or refueling.”
“What about bringing someone back here?” asked David.
Zia smiled. “Like a hitchhiker?” He patted David comfortingly on the shoulder. “No one is to be brought back here, except with prior leave of His Majesty the King given in-person. And good luck getting that.”
“Where is Enkidu?” asked David.
“Well, let’s see. Standard operating procedure would put him in the pilot’s station no later than two hours before departure,” replied Zia. “We haven’t seen him since yesterday, but I expect he’s already been in the pilot’s seat more than an hour. Remember, however, he doesn’t mind waiting.”
Together, they cleared the cups and plates from their tables and walked to the dock. David was having trouble believing that, in two weeks’ time, he’d be visiting the king’s fleet in the Mars system. It still felt somehow as though all such notions were simply daydreams, and that in fact he’d be taking the next shuttle down to Houston.
As Zia opened the door to the bay, a fresh floral scent wafted out. Even from where David was standing, he could see that the light emanating from the bay was unusually bright.
Zia, evidently surprised at what he saw inside, turned to the rest of them and said quietly, “Her Majesty is present, accompanied by Shiduri and two flower girls. Stay behind me. Be sure to avert your eyes from the Queen’s. I’ll stop twenty feet from Her Majesty. I believe she’s about to pass out this way. Bow low. Don’t speak and don’t approach unless spoken to or beckoned.” Duly warned, they entered the maintenance bay.
David stole a quick glance before casting his eyes down. Inanna was arrayed in ancient Egyptian fashion with the addition of a few modern accessories, such as white gloves, and silver leaf woven into her hair. Her black hair and dark eyes appeared to have been accentuated for the occasion, perhaps to contrast them with Catharine’s gold and green. Inanna stood in front of Shiduri, but behind two young girls languidly strewing fragrant petals before her.
Zia led his company to Inanna, but she snubbed him, addressing David instead. “Good morning, Mister Ambassador,” she said.
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” said David, bowing low.
Inanna seemed displeased by the conduct of someone standing behind David. The only person behind him was Catharine, who stood at attention with her eyes averted and face turned down. It took David a moment to realize the grounds for Inanna’s displeasure. Catharine was bowing like a man. He turned slightly toward Catharine and made an understated curtsying motion, which must have looked ridiculous to anyone watching. And, of course, everyone was watching, but they refrained from any perceptible reaction.
Catharine’s face turned red and she curtsied low (if a bit awkwardly) in her fitted skirt. David tried to persuade himself that Catharine was embarrassed, but he knew quite well she was smoldering.
“Mister Ambassador,” said the Queen, evidently mollified by Catharine’s compliance, “please approach.”
David had no choice but to pass Zia on his way to Her Majesty, but he made sure to nod to Zia as he passed.
Inanna extended her open hand to Shiduri, who placed in it a sealed envelope of royal stationery. Inanna handed it to David in turn.
The envelope was addressed simply: To His Lordship. The Queen whispered to David, “This is for our long-unseen friend. Should you happen to encounter him face to face, please hand him this without comment, except to inform him that I wish him to keep the contents secret.”
“It would be my privilege, madam,” whispered David, placing the envelope in the pocket of his jacket. While she beamed at him, he silently repeated a sort of mantra. Please don’t kiss me. Please don’t kiss me. Please don’t kiss me. That would be all that was needed to ensure Catharine’s lasting doubt. David bowed low.
Inanna said, “May the Creator of all watch over you both on your journey and bring you back safe.”
He replied. “And may the Creator watch over Your Majesty and keep Your Majesty safe always.”
Inanna directed the flower girls to proceed past the rest of the company on the way to the door. But as she was about to pass Catharine, who was still frozen in mid-curtsy with her eyes downcast, Inanna halted the little procession to look at her.
David’s silent mantra quickly became, Please don’t speak to her. Please don’t speak to her. Please don’t speak to her. He winced as Inanna spoke to her.
“Weldon, rise,” said the Queen.
With eyes still averted, Catharine rose to her full height and raised her chin.
The Queen, considerably taller than Catharine, bent to study her face closely. In no apparent haste, she glanced at David and smiled approvingly. She then passed judgment with a single word, warmly spoken:
“Enchanting.”
After the little royal company had passed through the door, Shiduri turned and smiled at David as she closed it behind her.
“Well, that was unexpected,” said Zia. “Evidently, David, she expects you may bump into someone in particular. I wonder who that could be.”
David shrugged. “I’m not at liberty to say,” he replied abashedly.
“It’s probably no one,” said Catharine resentfully. “It was just her excuse to have a little secret with His Excellency, the Ambassador.”
Gary, who was standing a few feet off, said, “Lieutenant commander, may I speak with you privately a moment?”
Catharine accompanied Gary a short distance away.
“What’d I do now?” she asked quietly.
“Well,” said Gary, “where should I start? Your temper is showin’ and it’s makin’ you look small. The Queen of … the Universe, or whatever … just gave you her seal of approval.”
“She did?”
“Yep,” he assured her. “When she was lookin’ at your face, she smiled approvingly at David. I think she’s moved on from him, or at least she’s tryin’ to.”
She shook her head. “Why do guys always think it’s about them? What makes you think this is about David?”
Gary looked at her in confusion. “What else would it be about?”
“This is between Inanna and me.”
He scoffed. “Well, whatever the contest … you won. Don’t grasp defeat from the jaws of victory. And, if I may, I’d advise the lieutenant commander to show some empathy for a guy who’s tryin’ to keep the solar system from blowin’ itself apart. The USA has some real enemies. The Queen is not one of ’em. And David is definitely not one of ’em, so cut him some slack.”
Catharine took it all pretty well, musing that navy flyers seemed to have a special ability to deliver constructive criticism to superior officers. Or maybe it’s just that they’re all navy. She nodded and muttered, “Point taken. Thanks, Gary.”
He winked at her discreetly. “Death from above.”
She smiled despite herself and responded in kind. “Death from below.”
Catharine and David’s luggage had already been brought aboard. They said their goodbyes and received boarding clearance from Kassam, who blessed them and their travels in the Anunnaki language.
They walked up the brightly lit flexible corridor side by side. About halfway to the craft, they clasped hands firmly and walked on together, and David could feel from Catharine’s grip that they were very much in this together and that the bond between them was as solid as could be.
As soon as they entered the passenger compartment, they turned left to pay their respects to their pilot.
“How does the space traffic look?” asked David.
Seated at the pilot’s station, Enkidu turned and impassively watched them enter. “Fortunately,” he said, “there’s no traffic between The Way Forward and the king’s fleet. The only known massive body near our path is Earth’s moon, which we’ll pass in a few hours. You’ll have a good view of it from the starboard side as we pass by. After that, there’ll be not much to see for ten Earth days or so.”
David nodded. “I suppose it’s time to brush up on long Russian literature. Dostoyevsky, perhaps.”
Instead of making an erudite retort as David expected, Enkidu merely smiled distractedly. “I’m signaling the maintenance bay that we’re all aboard. The corridor will be retracting and the vehicular seal emplaced. You might wish to take a seat.” He pointed to the two chairs behind him. “Right there, if you’d like.”
David and Catharine took the proffered seats. David noticed that, at his right hand, a bottle of champagne was chilling in a bucket of ice. The bottleneck protruded through a central opening in what appeared to be a small nylon web designed to stop the bottle (once weightless) from floating out of the bucket. He turned the bottle to read the label.
“It’s a 1990 Veuve Clicquot, Cave Privée Rose,” he said with a laugh.
She turned to him with a quizzical look. “Isn’t that—?”
He nodded. “It’s the champagne I ordered the night we met Miriam and Doctor Iskender. There’s a note attached.”
“What does it say?” asked Catharine.
“It’s signed by Miriam Azeri, Gary Sullivan, and Hendrick.”
“How nice of them!” she said.
“At the bottom, there’s a handwritten note from Zia. ‘To the sincerest earthlings I’ve met: Get ready for the best view of the moon that two lovers have ever had. Incidentally this bottle was contraband on the pyramidion, which means it was smuggled by a true professional, one of whom has signed above.’”
Catharine laughed. “Gary, of course.”
“Who else?” said David. “Can you imagine Miriam smuggling?”
“If she were caught,” said Catharine, “she’d apologize contritely.”
“And then send a polite, handwritten follow-up note,” he added.
She nodded. “No more than two weeks later.”
Enkidu interjected, “As you haven’t uncorked the bottle yet, if I were you I’d wait to open it until we’ve fully accelerated.” He turned. “Forty minutes or so. Buckle up. We’re about to be shoved off.”
There was a sudden change in cabin pressure that made their ears pop, and a blue light flashed silently on the pilot’s panel.
“We’re cleared for departure,” said Enkidu. “Get ready for a lateral jolt, and keep your head back on the headrest for a few minutes.”
What felt like a gigantic hand shoved them sideways, away from the pyramidion. Because there was nothing to hinder their motion, they continued drifting away at a good clip. A few seconds later, Enkidu pushed two buttons simultaneously and they felt a gentle thrust forward, such as one might feel in an airliner beginning acceleration down the runway.
Another button was pressed and the acceleration became more aggressive. They felt themselves being pressed insistently against their cushioned seats.
Enkidu visually checked their condition, then returned his attention to the panel. “Beginning acceleration to cruising velocity.”
Now the acceleration became eye-popping. It felt as though they were being pressed against their chairs by leaden blankets—enough to interfere with normal breathing but, fortunately, not enough to trigger the impulse to fight for air, which was just as well, as the feeling went on for a good half hour without letup. Then suddenly, all sense of pressure—indeed, of motion—simply stopped.
Enkidu turned to them and said, “It’s happy hour.”
David looked at him incredulously. “We’re still moving?” he asked.
Enkidu smiled. “Very quickly.”
David removed the bottle of chilled champagne from the bucket. It was more slippery than he expected and nearly floated out of his hand.
“As soon as you pop the cork, cover the top with your thumb,” said Enkidu. “No glasses, I’m afraid. Pouring is a bit tricky and unreliable. You’ll have to sip from the bottle, but I doubt the two of you will mind sharing.”
As Enkidu didn’t drink—anything—David and Catharine toasted his health, and the health of Doctor Zia, Queen Inanna, and Lord Enki. Then they added His Majesty King Enlil. Since there was still champagne left and nothing else to do, they added toasts to the health of every living person they could think of having anything to do with their present circumstances, beginning with those who’d procured the champagne, the admiral, the admiral’s wife, the President, and the lamented Ibrahim. By the time they finished the bottle, they were both well and truly sloshed.
David looked up at the videoscreens, in which the moon appeared noticeably larger than it had when they began toasting.
Enkidu, as though reading David’s thoughts, said, “This might be an appropriate time for you two to retire to the starboard dormitory. The view will be best from there. Before you get up, however, remember that there’s no gravity and you’re a bit tipsy, so take care. Also, if you feel as though you may … regurgitate your beverage, make sure you make it to the latrine first and that you close the door. Otherwise, conditions in the cabin will become very … unpleasant, and remain that way until such time as we can clean up.”
Enkidu accepted the empty bottle from David and shoved it into an opening in the wall that sucked it in with a clamor. Then he did the same with the bucket of ice.
David and Catharine got up and made their way carefully to the dorm, laughing at their own clumsy missteps along the way. They reached the dorm a bit winded, and plopped side by side onto a cushioned sofa, belting themselves in. In this posture, with few words, they gazed out the starboard-side window until the moon occupied their whole field of vision and was too bright to stare at.
Coming down from the champagne high, David silently remarked (mostly to himself) on his incredulity that the craft was not a motion picture theater or a couch in a living room. It was a spaceship. And that huge, bright object out there was neither a photograph nor a motion picture. It was the moon, the same that had enchanted lovers on Earth for millions of years. The moon that made the tides, which were essential to life.
Catharine drifted off and David gazed at her lovingly. The bright whiteness of the moonlight showed every little detail of her face. Although it was as beautiful to him as any he could imagine, he realized it wasn’t her looks he loved, but what the poet once called the “pilgrim soul” in her.
Pace, Anzû. What would be the point of my surviving her?
The moon began to slip behind them. Not for the last time, David wondered idly if it would still be there in five hundred years.
Though David expected that he and Catharine would spend most of their traveling time making love, that’s far from how things turned out. Weightlessness made their first bout absurdly awkward although, as David optimistically observed, any sex is better than none. But none was what it soon turned out to be, or very little at any rate.
