The Gravity of the Moment

by C. H. Russellson

Table of Contents

Table of Contents,
parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

part 4

Afterwards, I had a dream, perhaps, of being manhandled. Then, the sensation of light acceleration as if we were riding Cronus back up to orbit. There was more jostling followed by a heavier acceleration for a time followed by another of even heavier and much longer duration. All in a dream. Perhaps.

I awoke to a very blurred vision of those magnificent rings but far away, as seen from Titan, maybe? We were headed home, I guessed, but I could hardly stay awake. What was in that shot? Grayson’s face eclipsed the rings.

“Hello? You awake?” he asked.

“Yeah, barely. Did I have a reaction to the radiation meds?” I replied with a voice that seemed so far away.

“It’ll wear off. Go back to sleep if you feel like it.”

“Okay,” I managed in reply and took him up on the offer. A dull headache greeted me upon awakening an hour or a day later. I needed something to drink and a bathroom. I unbuckled and tried to float off the seat, but I was restrained, not just with normal seat restraints, I was tied down with cords across my chest and legs. “Grayson!”

“I’m here, Ian,” he said quietly from behind me, out of sight.

“Why am I tied down?”

“Uh, I had to, in case you got delirious and started thrashing around,” he said, still not within view.

That seemed reasonable. I looked out the window the best I could, past the propulsion unit that I had seen fastened to the nose bulkhead. It blocked part of the view, but I could still see Saturn and the rings. They were much farther away than the last time I was conscious, like we were way past Titan. “What is going on, Neal? I need you to untie me right now! We’re not anywhere near home.”

“You’re right, Ian. We’re not even in the Saturn system. Not anymore,” he said, still not showing his face.

I just tried to relax, thinking and hoping it was just a sick Grayson joke gone a bit creepy. I ignored the tiny place in my brain trying to scream panic and avoided thrashing and squirming against the cords. Too early for such desperation.

Grayson floated into view as he sat and buckled himself into the pilot’s seat. “Ian, Before I can release you, you’ve got to agree not to do anything crazy.” I wanted to guffaw so loudly at the irony but kept quiet.

“At this point you are hungry and thirsty and have a full bladder so the sooner you come around the better for all of us.”

I wanted to scream at him. I’m the one that needs to come around? Ha!

“Look, it wasn’t my idea to bring you along. Yes, you were just supposed to help me deliver the goods to Rhea and hang out while I did the test with Fredo. Then we were going back to Sanders. I promise.”

Your promises don’t mean squat, Grayson!

“But then Blaine and Cherie’s business got busy, and Fredo is like their main guy. That’s why I asked you to do the test run. Well, then this other project we were planning got moved up, and so it was decided you could come along since Fredo is tied up.”

“No, Neal. I’m the one who’s tied up!”

“Right, right! Sorry, that came out wrong.”

“Get to the point. Where are we headed?”

“Uranus,” he said, almost a whisper. “Oberon.”

* * *

If I ever got back to Titan, if we ever got back to Titan, I’d see to it that Neal Grayson was prosecuted for hijacking, kidnapping, shanghaiing the person he swore was his best friend, whatever you want to call it. He had laid it out for me: I could either go along with the plan and make history as part of the mission that first landed on one of the moons of Uranus, big ol’ whoopie do! Or I could kill us both in defiance. I had to admit the latter option had had some appeal. But in the end, I decided I wanted to live a little longer if, indeed, the Oberon option didn’t off us first.

Cherie’s talk of radiation exposure back on Rhea was bogus. The injection given Grayson was saline, he admitted, while mine was a potent dose of a presomnolent drug meant to knock me out. I guess I owe Cherie thanks for not letting me stand and fall flat on my face. Nah, just kidding. I don’t owe her anything. I felt almost as strongly about her being locked up or at least kicked out of Saturn space as I felt about Grayson.

I’m sure Vanderver was complicit, as well, in their crazy scheme. It started to occur to me then that Cherie and Blaine had been part of something that had caused Grayson to leave Ganymede and why he never wanted to talk about his past. I’m a little slow sometimes.

* * *

Grayson allowed me free access within Vagabond’s cabin but kept a close watch over me, especially the first few days. Mostly he followed me around explaining almost apologetically how we would need to conserve our resources if we wanted to get back to Titan. He showed me graphs on a data pad. After a couple weeks, I would be required to submit to the medbots’ administration of good old presomnolent and take a three-week nap followed by a two-week recovery before doing it all over again. And again. Three weeks on, two weeks off.

Grayson explained that any longer than three weeks under would require use of extra equipment that we just didn’t have room for. I asked him why he didn’t go under as well but, of course, he spouted off some malarkey about him being captain and needing to be available if there was a problem.

It nearly came to zero-g fisticuffs when I asked how long this little jaunt was going to take. When he told me it would take four and a half months to get there, I was livid. Nine months stuck with this guy! But bear in mind that Saturn and Uranus are millions of kilometers apart even at a close pass, which they were then experiencing. An intrasystem craft like Vagabond would probably take a decade to reach its outer neighbor. I assumed he was lying, and I didn’t think I was going to see Titan again; this slow boat could never turn the roundtrip in nine months.

Once he felt he could trust me enough not to blow the hatch open, Grayson settled into his sleep cubicle. The guy had to have been exhausted after hijacking me aboard Vagabond then fleeing Saturn space. It had been several days since I had become conscious enough to function, and neither of us had slept more than little catnaps at the console.

I felt like a zombie but wanted to check on some things without Grayson looking over my shoulder. Once he slipped into his characteristic rhythm with occasional snorts, I got to work at the console. As expected, he had locked me out of every single ship function except food prep. I couldn’t even adjust the temperature.

So, if Grayson suffered a heart attack or stroked out or was otherwise incapacitated, I was out of luck and would drift through space until the air ran out or I froze to death or suffered any number of other undesirable outcomes known to spacefaring humans.

I tried the comms, voice and data, no luck there. Of course, Grayson’s accounts were off limits but, accidentally or not, he had left a viewed message among some ship status reports that I was scrolling through. It was from the rental agency, Xanadu Leasing LLC regarding the status of the rented spacecraft BGCS Corporation Model 615 Solar Database Registration 45BK-8771 by Grayson, Neal L. on blah blah, account number blah blah, agreement number blah blah:

Mr. Grayson,

Our main office and other locations throughout Saturn Space have been attempting to contact you. Our telemetry verifies your communications equipment is functional but locked in a no-send no-receive mode. This message is being sent via emergency workaround. We advise you to unlock your communications equipment.

We are aware of a second individual on board (per rental agreement). We assume you are both in good health and that you are not being coerced into actions that are in violation of the Rental Agreement and the Addendum, both signed by you.

Regarding the rented vehicle, our long-range sensors show modifications. This is a direct violation of the Agreement. Also, your departure from the immediate vicinity of Saturn and satellites is not only in violation of the Agreement but is placing you and your passenger in danger as the Model 615 is not designed to operate outside the realm of planetary systems. Extended periods of operation are not recommended as the cabin heating system on that model is notorious for failure over long periods of use.

Your rental period of ten days has expired. Be advised, per the Agreement’s Addendum, we are assessing you one thousand solari (1000 SOL, Lunar Mean Rate) per diem until the craft is returned satisfactorily intact to a Xanadu facility or authorized agent as listed in the Agreement.

Also, we have contacted Saturn Environs Authority regarding the breaches of contract. Any prosecution of pertinent SEA statutes will be the sole responsibility of the SEA and other authorities per General Spacefaring Convention guidelines (Article IV, Sections 2-4, 8).

If there has been a misunderstanding, please contact us. Again, we urge you to reactivate your communications equipment.

Constantin Gorvic

General Manager, Xanadu Leasing LLC

Yeah, there was a misunderstanding alright, a huge misunderstanding. I almost laughed at how the message implied that the “second individual” might be the one causing the problem while applauding Grayson for honoring the agreement by having me onboard. Give me a break! At least someone was aware that something wasn’t right with this whole fiasco.

I expected the SEA to investigate the operation at Rhea. Of course, they would plead ignorance and just say we had dropped off supplies and performed testing before heading back to Titan. Vanderver would let Cherie do the talking: Oh, gee, did something happen? My goodness! I was still miffed at myself for being so weak and not asking to see the data showing our exposure while wearing class-five suits. Instead, I just let her give me the injection like a big-eyed puppy.

While Grayson was still in dreamland, I checked Vagabond’s hold. I had access to some camera views both internal and external. I turned on the lights in the hold and there was Cronus tucked away in the storage bay. Grayson must’ve done a solo back to orbit while I was being rushed to Vagabond like so much cargo.

The external views showed the modifications Gorvic mentioned. Between the stanchions that I had seen in Rhea orbit were huge tanks. A view near the nose revealed crude piping from the tanks to the propulsion unit attached to the front bulkhead. That explained why Vagabond was pointed backward, not in anticipation of a burn from the main engines but because a pulse drive was at work.

To test this, I took a water bulb I had been sipping from and held it as motionless as possible. When I released it, nothing happened at first but slowly the bulb drifted toward the windows above the command console. I’m no math whizz but I did some quick figuring and decided Grayson was not a liar about the trip duration after all.

The tanks were probably filled with water, used to accelerate the ship ever so slightly with each pulse. At midpoint we would turn around, and the pulse would slowly reduce our speed and then, flipping over again, the main engines would provide the insertion burn. Workable but hair-brained. Pulse drive units weren’t just left lying around, and I didn’t care to hear Grayson explain how he had commandeered one.

I dimmed the cabin lights and drifted over the console to the windows. Saturn was very bright, and Galileo’s “handles” were still easily visible at this distance. It was obvious we had come a long way and were travelling at a good clip. It was most likely from an extended main engine burn that provided the impetus but, gradually, the pulse drive’s cumulative effect was putting Saturn farther away in the proverbial rear-view mirror.

Sounds of sleep had quieted and soon there was rustling coming from Grayson’s cubicle. I ignored him and, in a few minutes, he settled into the pilot’s seat. He quickly swiped away the message from Xanadu that I had left on one of the screens. I looked over toward him with a half-grin, pleased with his display of agitation. “So, nine months?” I asked.

“Give or take a little.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“One hundred thirty-seven days one way was the best estimate we could come up with. The return might be quicker with less fuel mass to push,” he said while he looked through all the data I had been perusing.

“You’d better hope you can get us back sooner than later. You’re racking up a heck of a bill as it is. You got a quarter million just laying around? Not to mention the damage to the ship.”

He commanded the cabin lights back to full. “You ready to start your first sleep cycle?”

I wanted to shout, Yes! Anything to get away from you! “I suppose,” I mumbled instead.

“Take these.” I was handed two capsules. “It’s best to be emptied out. Don’t eat anything and drink only water.”

Later, we went to a locker near the airlock where a somnolent chamber was folded down. Two little medbots came to life and floated nearby ready to do the deed.

Grayson saw me looking at the tubes to be inserted in various places. “Don’t worry,” he said. “That will all be done after you’re under sedation.” He produced a data pad. “I want to show you something: “Cherie’s name is on the patent for this process.” He handed me the pad and pointed to her name. There were about twenty others. I scrolled through the list and sure enough there was Grayson and Vanderver as well.

I handed back the pad. “So, I’m supposed to feel better about this?” I asked.

“I just wanted you to know that we, I mean me, rather, know what I’m doing. It’s a tried-and-true process.”

“Sure,” I said, settling supine onto the mat. I fastened the straps myself. The bots went right to work preparing me for the presomnolent solution that would be given intravenously.

“See you in three weeks,” Grayson said.

* * *

Proceed to part 5...