The Sam Gunn Omnibus

Asteroid Ceres

Jade celebrated, if that is the correct word, her twenty-first birthday alone.

Rick Darling had thrown an immense party for her the day before she left the Golden Gate at the farthest point in its orbit and took the bulbous shuttle craft to the surface of Ceres. Nearly half the population of the huge bridge ship had poured into Darling’s posh villa, eating, laughing, drinking, narcotizing themselves into either frenzied gaiety or withdrawn moroseness.

Through it all, Darling had remained close to Jade’s side, his new figure almost trim compared to his former obesity. At first Jade thought he stayed near her because he was afraid of the crowd. Slowly, as the party proceeded and Darling played the genial, witty, gracious host, Jade began to realize that he wanted to protect her.

Jade tried to relax at the party and have a good time, but she was still haunted by the thoughts of her newly discovered and newly lost mother. Despite the happy oblivious crowd swirling around her, she still saw the automobile plunging over the rocky cliff and into the unforgiving sea.

Now, more than a week after Darling’s party, it was her birthday. Twenty-one years old. An entire lifetime ahead of her. An entire lifetime already behind her.

She stood at the window of her room in the habitat Chrysalis, in orbit around Ceres, and gazed out at the empty sky. There were no moons to be seen, no Earth hanging huge and tantalizingly close. Here in the Asteroid Belt, beyond the orbit of Mars, even giant Jupiter was merely another star in the sky, brighter than the rest but still little more than a distant speck of light against the engulfing dark.

Slightly wider than a thousand kilometers, Ceres was the largest of the asteroids. Still, its gravity was so minuscule that its underground caverns and tunnels were always thick with dust; the slightest movement stirred the choking black soot, and it hung in the air for hours before finally settling—only to be stirred up again by the next person’s movements.

The rock rats who tried to live in that perpetual haze of lung-rotting dust eventually assembled this makeshift habitat out of abandoned or secondhand spacecraft linked end-to-end in a rough Tinker-toy circle.

Chrysalis had a spin-induced gravity, just like the larger man-made habitats in the Earth-Moon system. But its induced gravity was very light, even lighter than the Moon’s. The hotel manager who had personally shown jade to her room had smilingly demonstrated that you could drop a fragile crystal vase from your hand, then go fill a glass of water and drink it, and still have time to retrieve the vase before it hit the carpeted floor.

Twenty-one years old, Jade mused to herself as she stared out at the dark sky. Time to make something of yourself. Time to leave the past behind; there’s nothing you can do to change it. Only the future can be shaped, altered. Everything else is over and done with.

She lost track of how long she stood at the window, sensing the cold of the airless eternity on the other side of the glassteel. Perhaps time passes differently here, with no worlds or moons in the sky. Nothing but stars endlessly spinning through the sky. Never any real daylight, always the darkness of infinity. This little habitat is like the ancient Greek idea of the afterlife: gray twilight, emptiness, a shadow existence.

It took a real effort of will for Jade to pull herself from the window. You’ve got a job to do, she told herself sternly. You’ve got a life to lead. Then she added, Once you’ve figured out what you want to do with it.

The message light on the phone was on. She walked past the bed carefully in the light gravity; everyone in the hotel wore Velcro slippers and walked across the carpeting in a hesitant low-g shuffle.

Jade smiled when she saw Jim Gradowsky’s beefy face fill the phone screen. He was munching on something, as usual.

“Just a note to tell you that Raki got promoted to vice president in charge of special projects. Thanks mostly to the Sam Gunn stuff you beamed us, and the interview with Rick Darling. You’re on full salary, kid. Plus expenses. Raki is very happy with you. Looks like he’ll be getting a seat on the board of directors next.”

But Raki himself did not call, Jade said to herself. Then she thought, Perhaps it’s best that way.

“Oh, yeah,” Gradowsky went on. “Monica says hello and happy birthday. From me, too. You’re doin’ great work, Jade. We’re proud of you.”

The screen blanked but the message light stayed on. Jade touched it again.

Spencer Johansen smiled at her. Jade’s breath caught in her throat.

“Hey there, Jade. I’m sending this message to your office, ’cause I haven’t a clue as to where in the solar system you might be. How about giving a fella a call now and then? I mean, I’d like to see you, talk to you. Maybe I could even come out to wherever you are and visit. You know, this old habitat feels kinda lonesome without you. Send me a message, will you? I’d like to see you again.”

Jade sank down slowly onto the edge of the bed, surprised that her knees suddenly felt so weak. Would Spence come all the way out here just to see me? No, it wouldn’t be fair to ask him. I’ll be leaving as soon as my interview comes through, anyway. And then out to Titan. It could be another two years before I see him again.

And why would he want to leave Jefferson and come out to see me? Jade asked herself. Is he a romantic fool or—suddenly she remembered Raki’s cruel words: “The thrill is in the chase. Now that I’ve bagged her, what is there to getting her again?”

She shook her head. No, Spence isn’t like that. He’s not. I know he’s not. But what if he is? an inner voice demanded. What if he is? Good thing there’s several million kilometers between you.

Still, that did not mean she could not send him the message he asked for. Jade leaned forward and touched the phone’s keyboard. She was stunned to find that two hours had elapsed before she ran out of things to say to Spence Johansen.