Part 4 (1/2)

”Well, yeah, but--”

”But nothing. Every time you think we're going to jump-start the s.p.a.ce program with this little stunt, the s.h.i.+p disappears, and every time you think we're not, it comes back. Admit it.”

Rick suddenly felt claustrophobic in the narrow access tunnel. He said, ”No way!

There are a million other factors that could be operating here. My optimism or pessimism isn't controlling the s.h.i.+p.”

”I think it is.”

They stared at one another for a few seconds, then Gregor said over the radio, ”Tessa's theory may be correct. Our studies indicate that ghosts are often closely tied to emotional states.”

”Your studies of what?” Rick asked. ”You can't put ghosts in a lab.”

Gregor laughed. ”No, but you can sometimes take the lab to the ghosts. You forget, Russia has been studying paranormal phenomena since the cold war. We may not know everything about them, but we have learned a thing or two.”

Rick and Tessa looked at each other, both clearly amazed. The Russians had actually gotten results? Impossible. Rick said, ”I don't believe you for a second.”

The j.a.panese controller, Tomiichi, had not spoken up for some time, but now he said, ”Believe it. The Russians aren't the only ones to investigate these matters.”

The j.a.panese too? Rick looked at Yos.h.i.+ko, but she merely shrugged and said, ”I am an astronomer, not a parapsychologist.”

”True enough,” Rick muttered, wondering why she hadn't remembered that before when she and Tessa were brainstorming their crazy explanation for all of this.

But evidently someone in Russia--and maybe j.a.pan, too--thought they had a handle on it. ”So what if you're right, Kaliningrad?” Rick asked. ”What do you suggest we do?”

”Be aware that you could die out there,” Gregor said. ”And if Tessa is correct, then you should remind yourself occasionally that your death will also kill any chance of a resurgence in popularity for manned s.p.a.ce flight.”

”I'm the one who made her turn off the camera,” Rick reminded him. To Tessa he said, ”I know we're in danger out here.”

”You've got to feel it,” Tessa said. ”That's what matters to a ghost. You've got to remind yourself all the time that this isn't some kind of picnic.”

Rick shuddered at the thought of the s.h.i.+p disappearing again, maybe for good, and of the three of them blowing away in opposite directions in the last puff of breathing air. ”That won't be hard,” he told her.

It turned out to be tougher than he thought. Over the next two days, as they coasted toward the Moon, the s.h.i.+p faded out twice more, once to almost transparency before whatever was responsible brought it back. Maybe it was him, Rick thought after the second time. It had happened while he was asleep, and when Yos.h.i.+ko had shaken him awake he had to admit that he had indeed been dreaming about a colony on the Moon.

Both Yos.h.i.+ko and Tessa were looking at him like hostages in a bank robbery or something. That accusing look, combined with the adrenaline rush from waking to their screams and his own fear of death, suddenly p.i.s.sed him off. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he said, ”All right, dammit, maybe I am in control of this thing. And if you're right about that, maybe you're right about experimenting with it, too.”

”What do you mean?” Tessa asked nervously.

”I mean if I'm G.o.d all of a sudden, then why don't I use it for something? Like make us a bigger s.h.i.+p, or at least a more modern one. Something with a shower, for instance. Or how about the Millennium Falcon? Maybe we could go to Alpha Centauri as long as we're out here.”

”Nyet!” Gregor said loudly. ”Do not experiment! It is more dangerous than you can imagine.”

Rick snorted loudly. ”Well, comrade, if I'm in the dark then it's because you guys are holding back on me. If you know what's going on up here, then tell me.

Why shouldn't I dream up a nice, big fantasy instead of this cramped little can?”

”E equals MC squared, that's why,” Gregor said. ”Your ghost cannot violate the known laws of physics. We do not know where the energy comes from to create the...ah, the physical manifestation, but we do know that a clumsy attempt to manipulate it can result in a violent release of that energy.”

”You do, eh? And how do you know that?”

Gregor conferred for a moment with someone else in the control room with him, then came back on line. ”Let us just say that not all of our underground explosions in the 1970's were nuclear.”

Rick looked out the window at black s.p.a.ce. ”You've made a weapon out of ghosts?”

he asked quietly.

Gregor said, ”Is an industrial accident a weapon? It is not useful unless you can direct it, and that's what I'm trying to tell you now. You are the focus of this phenomenon, but not its master. If you are careful you can maintain it, but if you attempt to manipulate it, the result will be disastrous.”

”So you say.”

”So we have come to understand. We do not have all the answers either.”

Rick's mad was wearing off, but frustration made him say, ”Well why don't you come up with some? I'm getting tired of being the scapegoat up here.”

Gregor laughed softly. ”We are doing our best, but you will understand if that is too little and too late. We are having trouble reproducing your situation in our flight simulators.”

”Hah. I'll bet you are.” Rick took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ”All right,” he said, ”I'll try to be good. But if you learn anything more about how this works, I want to know it instantly. Agreed?”

”Agreed,” Gregor said.

Rick rubbed his eyes again and unstrapped from his chair. Looking pointedly at Tessa and Yos.h.i.+ko, he said, ”Okay, then unless anybody has an objection, I think I'll have some breakfast.”

”No problem,” Tessa said, holding her hands out. Yos.h.i.+ko nodded. They both turned away, either to give him some privacy or to escape his anger, but whichever it was he really didn't care.

Tessa pulled herself into the equipment bay and began taking a navigational reading while he re-hydrated a bag of dried scrambled eggs.

”Hey,” she said a few minutes later. ”We're on a polar trajectory again.” She looked directly at Rick, who was sucking on a packet of orange juice.

”It's not me,” he protested. ”A polar orbit means we can't land. The command module wouldn't pa.s.s over our landing site again for an entire lunar day.” That was twenty-eight Earth days, far too long for a crew to wait on the surface. In order to rendezvous with the command module, they would have to make an orbital plane-change in mid-launch, a much more tricky and fuel-costly maneuver. Either that or the command module would have to make a plane change, which was equally difficult.

Yos.h.i.+ko acquired a rapt expression for a few seconds, then said, ”Unless you land at the pole. The command module would pa.s.s over both poles on every orbit.”

”We can't land at the...can we?”

”Absolutely not,” Gregor's voice said. ”Even I will not allow that kind of risk.

You would have bad lighting, extremes of temperature, no margin for error in landing sites, possibly even fog obscuring your vision on final approach.”

”Fog?” asked Tessa.

”It is possible. Current theory predicts water ice in some of the deeper craters near the pole, where sunlight can never reach them.”

”Wow,” whispered Rick. ”Ice on the Moon. That would make supporting a colony a lot easier.”

”Rick.” Tessa was looking intently at the walls, but they remained solid.