I had nothing to do with selecting the launch date. The goddamned International Astronautical Authority picked the date, with their usual infinite wisdom. Had to wait two weeks here in orbit because their tracking facilities were completely tied up on the latest Mars expedition. Six scientists and three astronauts going to spend ninety days on the Martian surface—some big-time expedition!
Anyway, the two-week delay gave those nervous nellies down in the banks a chance to send up their so-called experts for another check of all the ship’s systems. Everything’s fine, all systems go, they couldn’t find anything wrong. Even though we’ll be out for at least two years, they had to admit that the ship and the crew I picked are fully up to the mission.
Wish I could say the same about my partners.
I had to form a limited partnership to get this venture going. Seven limited partners. Very limited. Three men and four women who were willing to put up ten million bucks apiece for the privilege of being the first human beings to ride out to the Asteroid Belt. Without their backing the banks wouldn’t have even looked at my deal. I needed their seed money, but now I’m gonna have to put up with them for two years or more.
What the hell! I’m the captain. If any of them gives me a hard time I’ll make the sucker walk the plank.
Jade stopped the disk.
“I don’t have my notes with me,” she said to the empty room. “I want to refresh my memory of who those partners were—besides you.”
Darling did not answer, but the picture on the screen above her changed to show a group of eight people, four women and four men, all dressed in snappy flight suits. Sam was front and center, the shortest of the men and shorter than two of the women. His round, freckled face gave him the look of an aging leprechaun. Wiry red hair cropped close. Sly grin. The beginnings of wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.
“Which one is you?” Jade called out.
A long moment, then a circle appeared around the face of the man standing farthest to the left.
“My god, you were beautiful!” she blurted.
Rick Darling, at that age, was little less than an Adonis. Handsome face, tanned, full-lipped, framed by dark wavy hair. Broad shoulders, muscular build that showed even through the flight suit. Not a single piece of jewelry on him.
“Yes, I was, wasn’t I?” Darling’s voice, even through the speakers, sounded unutterably wistful.
She leaned forward and touched the disk player’s control button once again.
The computer can fill in the date—Sam’s voice said. He sounded edgy, almost out of breath.
Well, we’re off, on schedule. High-energy boost. We’ll pass the Mars expedition in a couple of weeks. Too bad we won’t get close enough to wave to ’em. Good friend of mine from back in my astronaut days is commanding the flight. She’s the first woman to command a Mars mission. Hope that makes her happier than I ever could.
Everything’s okay here, all systems in the green. My partners are having a ball. Literally, some of them. I introduced two of the women to zerogee fun and games last night. They liked it so much that I almost had to call for help. Almost.
Women are blabbermouths! Now the two that I didn’t take down to the hub are sore at me. And one of the men, that Darling character, is starting to make hints.
I hired one of the crewmen to help keep the passengers amused. Erik Klein. He’s a blond, tanned, beach boy type. Not too bright, but muscular enough to keep the women happy. The other two—my real crew—I’ve got to keep separated from the partners. These seven dwarf-brained numbskulls think they’re here for fun and games. I thought they’d entertain each other, pretty much. With Erik and me helping out a little, now and then.
Two years of this. Two years of this?
I had to give them a lecture. Imagine it! Me, laying down the rules to somebody else.
But they’re going to wreck this mission before we get halfway to where we’re going. Hell, they could even wreck the damned ship and kill us all.
Trouble is, they think they’re here to be entertained. I guess that’s the impression they got, somehow, from the way I described the trip to them, way back when.
Seven partners. Seven movers and shakers from the media, high society, the arts and sciences. Hell, even the astronomer is acting like a freshmen away from home for the first time in his life.
And they’re bothering the crew. I don’t mind if they screw themselves into catatonia, among themselves. But the crew’s gotta run this ship. They’ve got to be in top physical and mental condition when we start prospecting among the asteroids.
It all seemed so simple, back on Earth. Get seven prominent scatterbrains to put up the seed money for an expedition to the asteroids. Use their credentials to impress the banks enough to put up the real backing. Go out to the asteroids, find a nice chunk of nickel/iron, smelt and refine it on the way back to Earth, then sell it for enough to give everybody a nice profit.
It’s the sweetest deal I’ve ever put together, especially since the seven dwarfs will be getting their shares from the net profit we make, while I’ll be drawing my own off the top, from the gross.
But, lord! are those seven airheads a shipload of trouble. I may have to shove one of them out an airlock, just to impress the others that I mean business.
Imagine it! Me trying to enforce discipline on them.
I hate this job.
Listen, this log is going to have to be confidential. I’m going to give the computer a security code word so nobody can break into it and hear what I’ve got to say.
Let’s see … computer, this is a command. Code this log under, uh, umm—code word “supercalifragelistic-expialidotious.”
[Computer]: Code word accepted.
Okay, good. I hadn’t intended to get so paranoid, but I’m stuck here for the next twenty-three months with nobody I can trust. I’ve got to talk to somebody or I’ll go nuts. So I’ll talk to you, computer.
[Computer]: I contain artificial intelligence programs that can provide limited responses to your inputs.
When I want you to answer me, I’ll tell you! Otherwise, keep your voice synthesizer quiet. Understood?
[Computer]: Understood.
Part of the reason for locking up this log is that I’m going to start naming names and I don’t want anybody else to know what those names are. Christ knows I’ve done enough screwing around in my time, but I’ve always believed a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell. Well, maybe I’m not a gentleman and I certainly ain’t talking about just kissing, but I’ve never gone around embarrassing anybody I was lucky enough to go to bed with.
But I can’t talk things out without naming names. It just won’t work. Am I making any sense?
[Pause]
Hey, computer, am I making any sense?
[Computer]: Your statements are internally consistent.
Great. How do I call up your psychotherapy program?
[Computer]: Ask for Guidance Counselor.
Jeez, just like in high school. Okay, gimme the Guidance Counselor.
[Computer, same voice]: How may I help you?
Just listen and then tell me what I should do after I finish, okay?
[Computer]: If that’s what you really want.
Oh brother!
[Computer]: Is that part of your problem, your brother? I have your biographical dossier in my files, but there is no mention of a brother.
No, no, no! I haven’t started yet!
[Computer]: I see.
I’m starting now. Got it?