Spindrift by Allen Steele Read Free Book Online Page A

agent didn’t hurry to collect their tickets, as it would take a while for the outbound passengers to disembark. After that the stewards had to clean the cabin and restock its galley. The more seasoned passengers knew this; they remained in their seats, reading their pads or watching netcasts, or gazed out the lounge window at the impressive sight of the space elevator, a massive and seemingly infinite cylinder that fell away from them, gradually diminishing in width but never in length, until it became a mere wire that pierced Earth’s upper atmosphere almost 22,300 miles away.
    Harker lingered at the window until he heard the hatch open, then he turned away to saunter across the lounge. The first few people to disembark were all civilians; some looked distinctly pallid, and it wasn’t hard to tell which ones would soon be rushing for the nearest toilet to become spacesick. And, as always, there were the kids who seemed to bounce everywhere at once, drunk with their first taste of microgravity. None of them would be here very long; they’d soon board ferries that would transport them to orbital colonies, lunar shuttles or, in a few instances, one of the giant Mars cycleships parked elsewhere in geosynchronous orbit.
    Harker almost envied them. Not because of where they were going—he’d spent most of his adult life on the Moon, and two trips to Mars was enough for him—but with whom they’d be traveling. It didn’t bother him so much that it would be nearly five years before he set foot on Earth again. What he wasn’t looking forward to was the company he’d keep.
    Please, change your mind , he thought, even though he knew that this was a futile hope. Please let there be a death in the family, or some unforeseen illness, or anything else that might lead you to think that this is something you just can’t do. Even an attack of common sense, unlikely as that may be. But please…
    â€œMr. Harker!”
    No such luck. Ian Lawrence emerged from the gate, pushing past a couple of vacationers who’d come off the tram just in front of him. Harker forced a smile, even though his face felt as if it was made of lead. “Welcome back, Captain,” he said, as pleasantly as he could. “Have a good trip?”
    â€œSplendid, just splendid.” Lawrence had an overstuffed duffel bag in one hand and an attaché case in the other. Without bothering to ask, he held out the bag for Harker to take. “Thanks for coming to meet me. Nice to see a familiar face.”
    Captain Ian Lawrence, commanding officer of the EASS Galileo , apparently hadn’t received the memo requesting crew members using the space elevator to travel incognito. Either that or, more likely, he’d decided to disregard it. Whatever the reason, his dress uniform attracted attention; from the corner of his eye, Harker saw other passengers taking note of his service beret and the gilded braid and epaulets of his tunic. Perhaps that was why Lawrence insisted on wearing them; besides a handlebar mustache cultivated to mate with a pair of muttonchop sideburns, there was nothing about the Galileo ’s captain—short, slightly overweight, with a weak chin and a mercurial temperament—that commanded more than a moment’s notice.
    â€œOf course, sir. Not a problem.” Unless you count the fact that you should’ve been here five days ago, along with the rest of us. Harker took the bag from his captain, then turned toward the lift. “If you’ll follow me, sir…”
    â€œJust a moment. We’ve got one more person.” Lawrence looked around, then raised his hand. “Over here, John!”
    Looking back, Harker felt his heart sink even further. John Shillinglaw, the ESA associate director whom he’d met at Wilton Park a few weeks earlier. Shillinglaw had impressed him as little more than a bureaucrat who’d found his way into his position by being in