World of Water, World of Ice
     (a work in progress)

by Don White

Copyright © 2007, Don White
All Rights Reserved

PART I TO TRITON

CHAPTER 1 - BOARDING

LEO - HI JACK

SIX MONTHS - PRE-CONTACT.

I had to hurry. It was a half hour before Seeker's scheduled departure time to Neptune. That's my euphemistic way of saying that I had only thirty minutes left to steal my own ship and fly her clear across the solar system.

I wondered if they still tacked pictures of wanted criminals up on the post office wall. People would see the face of a man who looked like a youthful Abe Lincoln, and big bold letters saying:

WANTED

LEONARD DOE

GRAND THEFT, SPACESHIP

I already called my office and left instructions for the publicity department to give a realistic, untouched 3D pic of me to my persecutors. Will the size of the reward reflect the magnitude of my transgression against bureaucratic arrogance?

My flyer approached the launching facility of my factory world that leisurely circled Jupiter. I linked to Seeker's massive computer.

"This is the wee hours of Saturday morning." I heard Jerry's voice in the middle of my head, not through either ear. Jerry was an artificial intelligence subprogram of SHIP, Seeker's all controlling computer. He was more than a cute gimmick. He was a vital part of the ship, a key component that would make Seeker the best ship ever to fly the solar system. "Why hurry? The grand combo, Seeker's shakedown cruise and her maiden flight, are scheduled for Monday afternoon. What's the rush, Leo? You've got a reserved seat. You're the pilot, captain and crew."

"Check again. The schedule changed five minutes ago. Departure time is in twenty eight minutes."

"Nobody's here." Jerry sounded puzzled. My com-collar, the all purpose communicator looped around my neck, was linked to Seeker and sent audio signals to both of my inner ears through my jawbone, a good conductor of sound. It's great if you want the conversation to be private, but critics call a voice speaking in the middle of your head everything from disconcerting to intimate.

"Nobody there? Good. If the gang did their job yesterday and are home in bed, they won't be indicted as accomplices when I commit this horrid crime."

"How can stealing Seeker be called stealing? You own the damn ship."

"That's no way to talk about yourself. You are part of Seeker. Anyway lawyers and bureaucrats think they own you and therefore all your possessions. There's a writ of attachment in some official's computer, waiting for his signature. It talks about eminent domain, appropriation, impoundment, confiscation, all sorts of legalism, all because some government bureaus want Seeker their own purposes."

"Can they do it?"

"Not legally, but they'll seize Seeker, without paying for it I might add, and it'll be a month before our lawyers can get it back, without even an apology or payments for all the damage.

"Damage?" Jerry asked, "I thought Seeker was self-repairing."

"Not if they accidentally trip the self-destruct system."

Several groups from earth and Jupiter, government and private, planned to send expeditions to Neptune to investigate the situation. They all panicked when word leaked out that Leonardo Ltd's new explorer, Seeker with me and Jerry as the crew, would get there many months before any of them. Organizations in several nations of the Jovian confederation hired lawyers to steal Seeker from my company by quasi-legal schemes. Our sources on earth, called spies by the locals, said a dozen nations on earth who have no legal standing around Jupiter might use means other than lawyers. Sir Ronald, he's head of our legal staff, warned me that one writ of attachment from the Ganymede habitats had already arrived. It's at the top of his inbox, as government orders are supposed to be, but he said he wouldn't open his mailbox until he comes to work Monday morning. That gives us a couple of days head start. He can't quash the writ, only warn us to get the hell outta here."

"We'll only be a quarter million kilometers away."

Jerry could calculate accurately, but he sometimes used the wrong equation. "More like four million km," I said. "Use the pellet power equation, not the rocket equation."

"Hey, you're right. We should be safe."

I was told that on my long voyage to Neptune I'd have plenty of time to tutor Jerry. Good practice, friends told me, in case I ever had real kids. O God, imagine kids running around a space ship, pushing buttons to see what happens! At least I can turn Jerry off when I want quiet just by saying, "Hush."

The launching platform loomed ahead of me. Jupiter was above me, monstrous as always. It appeared four times bigger than the moon looked to earthlings, and much more colorful. Its whirlpool clouds and fast rotation gave it an organic appearance. I often felt the king of the gods looked agitated and planned to swoop down and gobble me up for breakfast. When traveling between Jovian habitats, everybody oriented their ships so Jupiter was above - sort of like earthlings instinctively like the sun above and the earth below even when in space. I let its image soak into my brain. I wouldn't see this giant planet or its many moons again for maybe two years, and that's only if things work out right.

Then to give my spirits a boost I looked out the forward window. In space a window is a window, not a port. Fortunately space ships did not inherit the terminology of earth's water-lubbing sailors. I stared at Seeker, rigged to the catapult, ready to go, all prepared, I hoped, and just waiting for me to steal her.

Seeker was proud and beautiful, despite motors, antennae, sensors and instruments of all sorts sticking out of her hull like drunken antlers and ominous warts. In space you don't streamline ships; you just make sure external equipment doesn't fall off when you start or stop or get hit by a meteor.

Notice that I call her Seeker, not THE Seeker, sort of like my name is Leo, not The Leo. His ship is a captain's friend, not just a mobile machine. True, Seeker is a very complex machine driven by an incredibly sophisticated computer, but so is the human body and brain. If I called her The Seeker it would be so impersonal, I might hurt her feelings.

My flyer snuggled up to the airlock of the catapult complex where ships received a final inspection before being launched into space. I stepped into the prep area. Everything was dark.

The work area enjoyed near atmospheric pressure and zero gravity. We inspected ships by taking them apart and putting them back together. Even a petite woman can carry five-ton components in zero gravity if she handles them carefully.

I stretched my wings and flew up ten meters and saw light by the ship's entrance. Our suits have a stretch fabric from wrist to waist that serves as wings in micrograv enclosures with an atmosphere. Aerodynamic flying in micrograv was much better than trying to run or hop - without wings to control your flight, you ricochet off walls and your bouncing body puts on a comedy show as it spins through the air with legs and arms flailing in vain. You end up with the satisfaction of giving your co-workers a good laugh.

As I flapped my wings, Jerry asked, "So we're really stealing Seeker in fifteen minutes."

"I don't think of it as stealing, though some government agencies don't have my enlightened attitude."

"If we're caught for grand theft, spaceship, will they put us in jail?"

"Put you in jail? Maybe you'd be transferred to a sealed file for a few years. Are you game to risk grand theft, spaceship?"

"Do I have any choice?" Jerry asked.

"I could deactivate you if you're chicken."

"Don't tease me. Whatever you do, I'm your henchman."

"OK, first let's see if Seeker is ready for a trip to Neptune."

There was a dim light by Seeker's entrance portal. Somebody was there waiting. A cop with a warrant?

I landed with a majestic swoop. Wen-Chung Fitzsimmons, head of our engineering department, stepped out of the shadows. Born in the mostly Chinese habitat circling Callisto, Fitz looked like a short chubby Buddhist monk, his name the only clue of a trace of Irish ancestry. He was a truly brilliant spaceship engineer, a perfect complement to me. I had the creative visions and he could transform even my wild ideas into reality - Seeker was an example. By coming here Fitz was in danger of being charged as my co-conspirator in the unauthorized removal of a ship insured for a million kg gold. I had no idea if the insurers would pay if the legal owner of Seeker stole her. Nor did I really care.

Fitz and I must've made a funny sight. When we stood face to face to greet each other, I towered almost a half meter over him. I was the gangling guy whose lean body and hard planar face looked like Abe Lincoln sporting a white Captain's uniform, but with a gold braided visored cap instead of Abe's famous ebon stove pipe topper. Fitz was a fat laughing Buddha with a round cherub face and big ears dressed in a saffron colored winged clean-suit. Despite the differences in height we weighed about the same.

Fitz looked worried.

"Leo," he said in his deep baritone voice, surgically altered to be a good singer, "We have a little problem."