“I am,” Justinian said, effectively ending that line of conversation.
Schummel’s embarrassment at his tactlessness seemed slightly pathetic on a man of his age. The nearby lowered entrance ramp offered them both a view of the shuttle’s darkened interior, and yet Schummel made no move to lead Justinian inside.
“What’s the matter?”
Schummel looked at the ground; he seemed ashamed to speak. “Justinian, I don’t know what you’ve done, but you’ve pissed off the EA big time. I need to ask you not to leave the planet.”
Justinian stared at the man, all expression shutting down. He shifted his son in his arms and felt the baby’s little pink hands begin to play with the fur around his collar.
“This is my son,” he said. “Can you tell me why I should risk his life by staying here?”
A spasm of something almost like pain crossed Schummel’s face. “Look, I got the order to take off half an hour ago, and I refused. There were three fliers still not yet arrived here and, anyway, what was the hurry? The hypership isn’t due to depart for another six hours.”
“Thank you for waiting,” Justinian said with just a hint of sarcasm. Nonetheless, he suddenly became fully aware of the group of fliers that formed a rough semicircle in front of the spoon-shaped nose of the shuttle. All of them were pulsing with colors that showed they still contained passengers. No one was boarding the shuttle yet.
“And so the games began,” David Schummel said, following his gaze. He was looking in every direction but at the baby, Justinian realized. “I got another call about five minutes before your flier touched down, telling me to abandon takeoff. Apparently the hyperdrive on the hypership has developed an irregular fault and they need to move it out of orbit in order to reduce the effect of Gateway’s gravitational field.”
Justinian gazed at him. “That’s all bullshit, isn’t it?” he said softly, and already he felt the defiance of the last two hours draining away. Why fight the EA? It always won.
The captain leaned forward and touched Justinian on the arm. His lined face now looked very old; his voice was heavy with resignation.
“Listen, Justinian, I’ve seen this happen before. I flew a lot of missions in the Enemy Domain. You’re not the first person I’ve met who has tried to get away from a situation he didn’t like, only to be held up by a series of seeming coincidences. The only difference today is that the EA doesn’t have its usual web of senses covering Gateway. It can’t pick up the smallest nuances of your expressions; on this planet it doesn’t have the finesse to cause subtle effects to gradually unravel that lead you to places you don’t want to be. It has to employ a more direct approach.”
Justinian held his son close and gazed at Schummel, who looked away, embarrassed.
Justinian’s voice was low and firm. “It can be as direct as it wants. I don’t care. I’m leaving.” It was his last attempt to take back control of his own actions. The baby shifted in his arms, eyes closing; he was tired. Justinian felt tired, too. He pulled his son up and rested the baby’s little head against his shoulder.
Schummel stared at the grooved pattern set into the rubbery material of the ground and shook his head. A cold breeze stirred, carrying the scent of autumn soil. The whole planet smelled like that, like the land here was not so much on the verge of waking up but rather at the beginning of the process that would eventually result in a spring.
Finally, Schummel looked up at Justinian, and his voice was gentle.
“Justinian, I know how you feel, but you’re not the only person on this planet. Look around you.”
Justinian kept his eyes fixed on David Schummel, but all around him he could feel the pulsing lights of the other fliers. Some of them had dropped their exit hatches. All around him were people standing in the shadows of their craft, trying not to stare in his direction.
“I want to go home,” Justinian said.
“So do they,” Schummel said gently. He reached out and laid his hand on the baby’s sleeping head. “Look, even if by some means you do get to be on the shuttle when it lifts, what will happen next? Will it develop a fault? Will the hypership hit a gravitational curve and find itself locked into a path around this planet? You know that the more you fight it, the less subtle the EA will become.”
Justinian wasn’t listening anymore. He knew now he was going to stay. There was no defying the wishes of the EA.
“Okay, okay. I’ll stay,” he said softly.
David Schummel gazed at him. “Thank you.” He paused, looking towards the rear of the flier. Justinian turned to see that Leslie had just emerged.
“I’ll take the baby, shall I?” the robot said.
“I could take the baby with me,” said Schummel suddenly. “One of the astronomers space-side has brought her daughter with her; she’s about the same age as your son.”
“I know. Mareka,” Justinian said. “I met her on the way out.”
Schummel nodded. “I thought you might have. She’s nice, isn’t she? Good with kids. Your son would be in safe hands.”
Justinian looked sideways. He could see the shape of his son’s head as it lay against his shoulder, could feel the regular rhythm of his breathing. The thought of passing him to a stranger filled him with sadness.
“No,” he said. “No, I can’t let him go. He’s already lost his mother…”
The captain nodded again.
Around them, the shuttle was coming to shimmering life. Patterns of lights began to twinkle on the wings above them. Something awoke deep in its ancient engines. The occupants of the other fliers were already making their way past. Justinian heard the occasional muttered expression of thanks as they walked by. David Schummel tilted his head as he listened to something.
“We’ve got the word to go. They’ve fixed the fault space-side and are moving the hypership back into orbit. Takeoff in three minutes.”
“Surprise, surprise.”
Schummel fixed him with a stare. “You’re a good man, Justinian. You deserve better than this. I hope you get whatever it is you are doing here finished as soon as possible, then get off this planet.”
“Me, too,” Justinian said. He felt angry at the EA-so angry. It wasn’t fair, but when Schummel offered his hand, Justinian pointedly ignored it. He couldn’t help it. He had to take his frustration out on somebody. David Schummel looked down at his own hand, nodded ever so slightly, then withdrew it. He turned and made his way back towards the shuttle. Justinian watched the tall man go, finding himself left alone as the occupants of the other fliers boarded the shuttle and the ramp raised itself. He watched the wings sparkling and flashing as the air around them was ionized and shaped into a path through which the craft could fly. Then the shadow in which he stood was shrinking as the shuttle lifted lightly into the air. Justinian watched it rise, spiraling higher and higher into the turquoise sky. And then it was gone.
He turned and made his way back up the ramp into his own flier, pushing his way past Leslie as he went.
“Don’t speak to me,” he growled as he set a flight chair to the shape of a cot and placed the baby in it. Then he slumped into a chair opposite, suddenly aware of a tingling on his leg. He pulled up the right trouser leg of his passive suit.
A second BVB had formed there.
Helen 2: 2240
Concealed as she was by darkness, the pale lights flickering across her face were the only clue to Helen’s presence in the shuttle. Judy 3 sat opposite, monitoring her for signs of stress, but so far she had detected nothing but an awed, breathless wonder. Helen smiled, and Judy felt the happiness rising from her, filling the interior of the insubstantial craft. They were dropping down by the seemingly endless diamond-studded black wall of the Shawl towards the blue-white swirl of the Earth below, and it was good to be alive. Even if that life was in the digital world.
Brilliant sunlight burst around them. They had now dropped beyond the lowermost edge of the Shawl; they
