Allen Steele - Orbital Decay.pdf - Allen Steele - margozap

file:///J|/sci-fi/Nieuwe%20map/Allen%20Steele%20-%20Orbital%20Decay.txt

ORBITAL DECAY

Allen M. Steele

The excerpt from The Space Enterprise by G. Harry Stine. copyright þ

1982 by G. Harry Stine, has been used by permission of the Scott

Meredith Literary Agency.

Permission has been granted by Ice Nine Publishing Company, Inc. for

use of lyrics from the following songs:

"U.S. Blues" Words by Robert Hunter, music by Jerry Garcia, copyright þ

1974 by Ice Nine Publishing Company, Inc. "Truckin' " Words by Robert

Hunter, music by Jerry Garcia, Bob Weir, and Philip Lesh, copyright (þ)

1971 by Ice Nine Publishing Company, Inc. "The Wheel" Words by Robert

Hunter, music by Jerome Garcia and William Kreutmann, copyright (þ)

1971 by Ice Nine Publishing Company, Inc. "Cumberland Blues" Words by

Robert Hunter, music by Jerry Garcia and Philip Lesh, copyright (þ)

1970 by Ice Nine Publishing Company, Inc. "Brokedown Palace" Words by

Robert Hunter, music by Jerry Garcia, copyright (þ) 1971 by Ice Nine

Publishing Company, Inc. ORBITAL DECAY An Ace Book/published by

arrangement with the author PRINTING HISTORY Ace edition / November

1989

Cover art by Romas.

This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or

any other means, without permission.

For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group, 200 Madison

Avenue, New York, New York 10016.

ISBN: 041-49851-5

Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, 200 Madison

Avenue, New York, New York 10016.

The name "ACE" and the "A" logo are trademarks belonging to Charter

file:///J|/sci-fi/Nieuwe%20map/Allen%20Steele%20-%20Orbital%20Decay.txt (1 of 342)17-2-2006 3:02:39

file:///J|/sci-fi/Nieuwe%20map/Allen%20Steele%20-%20Orbital%20Decay.txt

Communications, Inc. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 10 9 8

6 5 4 3 2 1

This ones for Linda because of all the right reasons And for her

favorite band, The Grateful Dead

Acknowledgements The author extends

his deepest gratitude to the people who helped make this novel

possible: Rick Dunning, who designed Olympus Station and aided in the

design of Vulcan Station, and otherwise acted as an unofficial science

adviser in the creation of the backgrounds and technology; Jin Ball of

NASA's Public Affairs Office at the Kennedy Space Center, who gave me a

first-class tour of the facilities and answered many questions about

flight operations at the Cape; David Magi, also of the Kennedy Space

Center, who lent me an enlightening half-hour of his time; Jove

Patterson and Roy Fisher of the University of Missouri School of

Journalism, for enabling me to take off on a couple of off-campus trips

to the Cape and Washington, D.C which allowed me to gather material

while conducting postgraduate research at the same time; Ken Moore,

John Holus, and Dan Caldwell of the Nashville Science Fiction Club, who

supplied me with invaluable insights, criticism, and magazine articles

during the genesis of the book (and to Ken's cats--Avco, Big Black,

Pinhead, and Token-for educating me in feline psychology); Ginjer

Buchanan, who rescued this novel from the slush pile and gave me

encouragement when it was needed the most; ian Ralph, who volunteered

to be the novel's first reader and survived the experience to give me a

critique; and, definitely not the least, Linda, for back rubs,

patience, beer runs, and all the other big and little things.

September, 1983-October, 1986; Columbia, Missouri; Nashville,

Tennessee; Washington, D.C.; Worcester, Massachusetts

"Just as the

oceans opened up a new world for clipper ships and Yankee traders,

space holds enormous potential for commerce today. The market for

space transportation could surpass our capacity to develop it.

Companies interested in putting payloads into space must have ready

access to private sector launch services ... We will soon implement a

number of executive initiatives, develop proposals to ease regulatory

constraints, and, with NASA's help, promote private sector investment

in space.

file:///J|/sci-fi/Nieuwe%20map/Allen%20Steele%20-%20Orbital%20Decay.txt (2 of 342)17-2-2006 3:02:39

file:///J|/sci-fi/Nieuwe%20map/Allen%20Steele%20-%20Orbital%20Decay.txt

--President Ronald Reagan State of the Union address January 25, 1984

''. . . In recent years there has been an increasing amount of

interest and speculation in the area of space colonization and space

habitation.... It is only fair to point out, however, that far too much

space colonization work has been pure utopian dreaming; historically,

there is nothing wrong with this if you keep fact and fiction

delineated. Similar utopian dreaming heralded the opening of the new

frontiers of the past. Cathay was once a magical kingdom with great

wizards and magic that were really advanced technology beyond the

comprehension of visitors. Far Araby was a place of jinns, flying

carpets and odalisques ready to do your every bidding.

America was a land of milk and honey where the streets were paved with

gold and even if they tossed you in jail it was in golden chains.

California was a land of perpetual sunshine where it never rained. And

the space colony offers us a pastoral existence with trees, grass,

grazing livestock, happy farmers and dancing children eating goat

cheese.... But opening a frontier is a deadly, difficult gut-tearing

job that requires the best people that the human race can produce and

demands its toll in lives and property."' --G. Harry Stine The Space

Enterprise

''Sure, we had trouble building Space Station One--but the trouble was

people."

--Robert A. Heinlein "Delilah and the Space Rigger"

PART ONE A Hard Day in the Clarke Orbit Some day soon--perhaps

tomorrow, perhaps a week or a month, maybe as long as a year from now

if they're really lazy about it--they're going to find this crevasse.

It won't be very difficult, because the tire tracks from my tractor

will remain indelibly printed in the gray lunar soil. There are no

winds on the Moon to shift dust over the tracks, no erosion save for

the impact of stray micrometeorites. My trail will remain fresh even

if they delay the search for a decade, and it will lead across the

Descartes Highlands east of the Abulfeda Crater until it ends, quite

abruptly, at the lip of this crevasse within sight of Argelander

Peak.

file:///J|/sci-fi/Nieuwe%20map/Allen%20Steele%20-%20Orbital%20Decay.txt (3 of 342)17-2-2006 3:02:39

file:///J|/sci-fi/Nieuwe%20map/Allen%20Steele%20-%20Orbital%20Decay.txt

When they shine a spotlight down here, they'll discover the wreckage of

my tractor, looking like one of the junked cars one sees from the

highways in Pennsylvania. When they lower a couple of men down by

cable, they'll find my footprints in the dust at the bottom of the

crevasse. They'll follow those lonely footprints as they lead for a

mile and a half northwest, the steep walls of the crevasse rising to

either side like enormous hedgerows of ancient volcanic rock.

It's dark down here, even during the high noon of the two-week lunar

day. Their helmet lanterns will cast ghostly circles of light along

the walls and in the deep impressions of my footprints. They will feel

the cold lonesomeness which is destined, in these last hours of my

life, to be my dying impression.

Actually, I understand that oxygen asphyxiation is not a bad way to go,

relatively speaking. There's worse ways to die in space. In the end

I'll probably babble my head off, gleefully

talking about moon worms

as my lungs fill with carbon dioxide. I'll go out crazy as a shithouse

rat, but at least I'll be happy. I think.

When they come to the end of my tracks, they'll find me sitting on my

rump with my back propped against a boulder, quite dead. They will

also find the greatest discovery ever made. I'm serious. It's down

here in this crevasse with me, and the search party would have to be

blind to miss it.

I only wish I could be around for the moment. I wouldn't be able to

see the expressions on their faces through the reflective coating on

their helmet visors, but I can imagine what words will pass through

their comlink.

Although, now to think of it, even hearing what they had to say would

be impossible. If my suit radio, or the radio in my poor wrecked

tractor was still working, I wouldn't be sitting here now, waiting to

die.

Life is just full of little ironies, ain't it?

I wonder which will go out first: the oxygen supply, the batteries in

my life-support system, which keep me from freezing to death, or the

microcassette into which I'm dictating these last thoughts.

file:///J|/sci-fi/Nieuwe%20map/Allen%20Steele%20-%20Orbital%20Decay.txt (4 of 342)17-2-2006 3:02:39

file:///J|/sci-fi/Nieuwe%20map/Allen%20Steele%20-%20Orbital%20Decay.txt

Theoretically I shouldn't be wasting precious air in speaking; I should

be conserving it in hopes that a search party from Descartes Station

will find me in time.

Rescued in the nick of time, la. Sorry, that stuff only happens in

science fiction stories. I know damn well that the guys back at the

base, inert bastards that they are, won't even think about looking for

me until I'm several hours overdue. These two-week days tend to

distort time like that.

I'll be long dead by the time someone peers over his Marvel comic book

and says, ''Hey, what happened to Sam?" It'll be another hour before

someone else says, "Hey, y'know, I think Sam's overdue from his trip

out." And it'll be another hour after that before someone finally says

"Well, gee whiz, maybe we ought to take another track out and go find

ol' Sam; he might be in trouble or something."

You sons of bitches. I'm gonna get you for this.

At least there's the consolation, the posthumous booby prize, that

someone may eventually transcribe these taped recollections and publish

them as an article about the man who made the greatest discovery.

After all these years, after all those reject slips, I'll finally get

something of mine in print. The last words of a failed science fiction

writer; maybe it'll even get in Analog or Omni, one of the mags that

turned down all the other stuff I wrote. It may even spur some

publisher to print Ragnarok Night, the SF novel that no one would touch

while I was alive.

I can always daydream, can't I?

Yeah, life is just full of them crazy little ironies. Death is too, I

suppose.

So, to pass the time until my oxygen or suit batteries peter out, I'll

tell you a story, you who will someday separate this tape from my suit

recorder. A spaceman's memoirs, if you will. How Samuel K. Sloane,

who got a job with Skycorp so he could go to space to get authentic

background for his science fiction novel, ended up making the Great

Discovery.

Of course, that isn't all there is to it. There was also the stuff

file:///J|/sci-fi/Nieuwe%20map/Allen%20Steele%20-%20Orbital%20Decay.txt (5 of 342)17-2-2006 3:02:39

Allen Steele - Orbital Decay.pdf

Plik z chomika:

Inne pliki z tego folderu:

Inne foldery tego chomika: