Smile wreathed features, eyes sparkled; but strain, fatigue, perhaps even something which might be mistaken for desperation (in anyone besides Teacher) showed in features. And as watched, light died, lines deepened, shoulders sagged.
Voice somber as stated, “I’m astonished that you found us.”
“Just lucky,” I replied. “I was in the right place at the right time. I heard a sonic boom, looked up, and saw a contrail. If I hadn’t run into trouble the day before, we’d have been probably 200 miles from there.”
Teacher looked up thoughtfully, momentarily distracted from problems. “With the whole of the North American continent to search, you ‘just happened’ to see, and be close enough to take advantage of the return of, the first supplies-gathering expedition we’ve sent out in two months, which will be the last for quite some time to come.” Regarded me quizzically. “Coincidence on that scale is difficult to credit, and we hominems are a largely unknown commodity. I wonder where a study of the mechanics of that sort of phenomenon might be commenced, and in what direction it might lead…”
Strain returned to features as Teacher continued. “I had planned to take you with me. But I returned to find you securely locked in your shelter, with both telephone and computer terminal unresponsive — for what reason, I can’t imagine.
“I wanted to tell you in the letter where we were going — where the AAs were going, that is; at the time it did not appear that I would be a lasting consideration — and why. But I could not; I hope you can understand why I could not. The best I could do was introduce you to your heritage and suggest that you start looking for your peers.
“I intended to send someone back to search for you as soon as it became possible, but so far it has not: For an amateur group as small as ours to modify and prepare for launch a shuttle, normally groomed by an army comprising several thousand intensively trained experts, in the time allotted, is no modest task. We have not been able to spare anyone.”
“I guess that answers my next question.” I sighed. “My family — my adopted family — is searching the Sierra Nevadas for my body. I’d like to go find them and bring them here. You can’t spare a crew, maybe with a helicopter…?”
Teacher shook head slowly. “No; I’m sorry. If you can wait until we’ve launched the Hale, then certainly. But that will leave precious little time in which to find and warn them, should the mission fail, won’t it?
“Though…” Teacher’s eyes closed briefly in pain, “…of course in that case they’ll just have to go into the lottery with everyone else. They’ll be among those for whom the question of whether there is room will be decided by chance.
“Mind you,” he added quickly, “the lottery applies only to adults; you children are included automatically.”
Teacher blinked then, as if suddenly remembered whom talking to. “I don’t mean to sound patronizing, Candy. If it should come to that, it boils down to a question of racial survival. We must attempt to save the young and those possessing the knowledge and skills which will improve their chances. Where possible, those with knowledge will be the young. No one in my age bracket, whose skills are duplicated by anyone younger, will be eligible for the drawing.”
Understood that. And mortally ashamed at depth of relief I experienced on learning own place in shelter assured, along with Adam, Lisa.
But what if Kim left out…?
Or Terry! — surely Teacher wouldn’t exclude twin! After all, doesn’t take much room, eats like a…
No. Now neither time nor place for that discussion. Question probably never arise anyway; Hale’s mission surely successful. No benefit to increasing Teacher’s burden prematurely, perhaps unnecessarily.
Immediate problem was locating family. Wanted to get them back here soon as possible; be on hand myself, make limited talents available in any manner planners might deem helpful (as well as family’s talents — Kim’s, Adam’s not nearly so limited).
Only extraneous body in vicinity clearly mine; would have to go myself. Decided to leave first thing in morning. No idea how long search might take, but sitting ducks up there for earthquake, fallout; had to try to get them to AAs’ shelters before scheduled bomb fall, just in case.
Then worry about lottery.
Noticed Teacher looking over crowd; wondered if missed anything while woolgathering. “I think everyone able to attend has arrived. I must call the meeting to order. Why don’t you sit up here with us? There is plenty of room.” Stepped toward podium, gathering notes; cleared throat, switched on mike.
I looked around at stage. Consisted of raised platform some 30 feet wide, ten deep. Easel at stage center, just behind podium, held large presentation board. One end of stage littered with odd-looking machinery.
On ground beyond stood large, complicated sculpture with one curved wall, many convolutions, interior open on side toward crowd. If let imagination wander, could easily have been pie slice from cutaway aircraft mock-up. Or giant 3-D rat maze. Bracing crowded interior; one inside surface covered with projections, knobs, dials, tangles of wiring gathered in messy looms. Looked like awkward place to get around in. Small oblong opening in intermediate wall peeked through at wall to which majority of découpage affixed.
Settled in chair near enigmatic artifact; tried to look inconspicuous. Gayle took seat next to me, smiled reassuringly. Grateful for presence; felt very much out of place.
Teacher opened meeting with brief, forced-sounding pleasantries; then discussed progress to date in preparing Nathan Hale for launch.
(And suddenly identified source of subliminal itch bothering me since Gayle’s first mention of shuttle: Familiar with names of NASA’s shuttles; Nathan Hale not among them. Apparently AAs rechristened. Well, sure; why not? Previous owners unlikely to object. Besides, had heroic sort of ring to it; sounded neat [though not as neat as Enterprise — cheapest of evasions to pretend to honor lobby’s request; then waste name on mock-up intended for glide tests only!].)
Teacher praised collective efforts to date: Group had faced, overcome immense, unprecedented challenges. Among most pressing: Fact that shuttles never intended for geosynchronous orbit work. Designed, constructed as low-orbit ferries, operating no higher than about 700 miles.
But hominems worked miracles: Devised fittings to mount four solid booster rockets in place of usual two. New trick liquid fuel mixture boosted main engine thrust efficiency several critical percent, improved consumption picture. Cargo bay now accommodated huge custom-built orbital maneuvering system tank (much larger than earlier OMS kits).
Ship also lightened substantially; almost gutted, in fact. Everything extraneous to mission ripped out: Air, food, water storage cut down to irreducible minimum. Storage cabinets, noncritical instrumentation, crew’s “amenities” discarded. Landing-gear system removed in toto…
(Good thinking: Shuttle expendable after mission; parachutes adequate for crew.)
Aerodynamic control surfaces permanently locked in neutral; related hydraulics, computers, sensors, control sticks, pedals, etc., gone…
(Goggled when heard that; couldn’t imagine how expected to manage reentry.)
…along with all exterior insulation.
(Say what?)
Calculations showed Nathan Hale now capable of attaining desired orbit.
Just.
Chin dropped; heard own voice involuntarily whisper, “Oh…!” as finally caught on.
Now understood shuttle’s new name: Nathan Hale — “My only regret is that I have but one life…”