Kathy says, “Mission Control, all valves are closed and I’m opening the hatch.”
“Roger, Eagle Heavy. You guys have a great time and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“That gives us a lot of latitude,” Kathy says. “We’ll talk to you once we’re onboard Many Flags. Thanks to everyone in the down-below. This is Eagle, over and out.”
24
ONE BY ONE THEY float through the hatch, then up the hard line with its blue foam sides, and finally into Many Flags. Kathy Lundgren is first, Gareth Winston last. Gwendy’s between Reggie Black, the physicist, and Adesh, aka Bug Man.
Gwendy feels a slight tug of gravity as she enters. Her mind is currently as clear as a bell, and she remembers that the station’s slow spin has returned a fraction of her weight. She and the other newbies look around, bouncing slowly up and down: touch and go, touch and go.
Her first thought is that USA Control would look almost like a hotel lobby if the walls weren’t lined with equipment, monitors, and a nightmare spaghetti of cords and wires. And if the walls weren’t padded, of course. Her second thought is that it’s
“Okay to ditch the outerwear, guys,” Sam says. “Stow ’em there.”
He points to lockers along one wall. There are at least two dozen. Ten have lighted panels with the names of the Eagle Heavy crew. Gwendy bounce-floats to hers and opens it. There’s a hook for her suit and a magnetized shelf for her helmet. She’s carrying the steel box with CLASSIFIED MATERIAL stamped on it, and it would stick to the shelf, but she doesn’t want to leave it there. Not with Gareth’s locker right next to hers. She sees him watching her, and she doubts it’s with admiration for her butt in the red Eagle coverall she’s wearing.
“Crew to me for a minute,” Kathy says. “Gather round.”
Gwendy closes her locker and joins the others, holding the steel box by its handle. It makes her think of the lunchbox she carried to Castle Rock Elementary long, long ago.
“Air smells better, don’t you think?” Bern Stapleton asks her.
“God, yes. Sweeter and fresher.”
Also, there’s instrumental music drifting down from the overhead speakers. Maybe Seals and Crofts, maybe Simon and Garfunkel.
They circle Kathy, rising and falling, touching and going.
“You know most of this from preflight orientation, but protocol demands I give you a quick refresher upon entry to the station. First, accommodations.”
She points at the doors marked SPOKE 1, SPOKE 2, and SPOKE 3.
“Spoke 1 is flight crew: me, Sam, Dave. Spoke 2 is science crew: Reggie, Jafari, Bern, and Adesh. Spoke 3 belongs to our passengers, Gwendy and Gareth, plus Dr. Glen. I think you newbies are going to be delighted by what you find. Someday not far in the future, TetCorp hopes those rooms and many others like them will be occupied by paying guests. Gwendy and Gareth, you have actual suites. Only a bedroom, sitting room, and a small bathroom, but quite luxy.”
“Don’t tell the taxpayers,” Gwendy stage-whispers. Most of them laugh. Gareth Winston does not, perhaps because the current administration has landed him in the 45 percent tax bracket. Or maybe he’s just impatient with the repetition.
“You’ll have to bring your own gear up from the Eagle; all the bellmen up here are on strike.”
There’s more laughter, and once again Gareth doesn’t join in. Gwendy wonders when he last had to carry his own luggage. Maybe when he moved into a college dorm. Maybe never.
“I’ll cut the rest of the lecture short, if you promise not to tell Mission Control, but I urge you to review the orientation video on your tablet again. It will guide you around the parts of the station available to us … which in this extraordinary circumstance is almost all of it. Jaff, you’ll want to visit the observatory and power up what needs to be powered up so you can start sending photos back to Earth. I believe your main interest will be Mars.”
“Correctamundo,” Jafari says.
“Gwendy, you’ll want to check out the weather deck. It’s small, but it has tons of equipment and its own telescope. Bern, your lab is next to Adesh’s Bug Suite in Spoke 5.”