The Past Through Tomorrow Read online

  While I was helping her into the tail surfaces I said, “Ariel? This is still a bad idea.”

  “I know. But we can’t let men think they own us.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “They do own us, of course. But we shouldn’t let them know it.” She was feeling out the tail controls. “The big toes spread them?”

  “Yes. But don’t do it. Just keep your feet together and toes pointed. Look, Ariel, you really aren’t ready. Today all you will do is glide, just as you’ve been doing. Promise?”

  She looked me in the eye. “I’ll do exactly what you say… not even take wing unless you OK it.”

  “OK. Ready?”

  “I’m ready.”

  “All right. Wups! I goofed. They aren’t orange.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “It sure does.” There followed a weary argument because Mr. Schultz didn’t want to spray them orange for a tryout. Ariel settled it by buying them, then we had to wait a bit while the solvent dried.

  We went back to the tourist slope and I let her glide, cautioning her to hold both alulae open with her thumbs for more lift at slow speeds, while barely sculling with her fingers. She did fine, and stumbled in landing only once. Jeff stuck around, cutting figure eights above us, but we ignored him. Presently I taught her to turn in a wide, gentle bank—you can turn those awful glider things but it takes skill; they’re only meant for straight glide.

  Finally I landed by her and said, “Had enough?”

  “I’ll never have enough! But I’ll unwing if you say.”

  “Tired?”

  “No.” She glanced over her wing at the Baby’s Ladder; a dozen fliers were going up it, wings motionless, soaring lazily. “I wish I could do that just once. It must be heaven.”

  I chewed it over. “Actually, the higher you are, the safer you are.”

  “Then why not?”

  “Mmm… safer provided you know what you’re doing. Going up that draft is just gliding like you’ve been doing. You lie still and let it lift you half a mile high. Then you come down the same way, circling the wall in a gentle glide. But you’re going to be tempted to do something you don’t understand yet—flap your wings, or cut some caper.”

  She shook her head solemnly. “I won’t do anything you haven’t taught me.”

  I was still worried. “Look, it’s only half a mile up but you cover five miles getting there and more getting down. Half an hour at least. Will your arms take it?”

  “I’m sure they will.”

  “Well… you can start down anytime; you don’t have to go all the way. Flex your arms a little now and then, so they won’t cramp. Just don’t flap your wings.”

  “I won’t.”

  “OK.” I spread my wings. “Follow me.”

  I led her into the updraft, leaned gently right, then back left to start the counterclockwise climb, all the while sculling very slowly so that she could keep up. Once we were in the groove I called out, “Steady as you are!” and cut out suddenly, climbed and took station thirty feet over and behind her. “Ariel?”

  “Yes, Holly?”

  “I’ll stay over you. Don’t crane your neck; you don’t have to watch me, I have to watch you. You’re doing fine.”

  “I feel fine!”

  “Wiggle a little. Don’t stiffen up. It’s a long way to the roof. You can scull harder if you want to.”

  “Aye aye, Cap’n!”

  “Not tired?”

  “Heavens, no! Girl, I’m living!” She giggled. “And mama said I’d never be an angel!”

  I didn’t answer because red-and-silver wings came charging at me, braked suddenly and settled into the circle between me and Ariel. Jeff’s face was almost as red as his wings. “What the devil do you think you are doing?”

  “Orange wings!” I yelled. “Keep clear!”

  “Get down out of here! Both of you!”

  “Get out from between me and my pupil. You know the rules.”

  “Ariel!” Jeff shouted. “Lean out of the circle and glide down. I’ll stay with you.”

  “Jeff Hardesty,” I said savagely, “I give you three seconds to get out from between us—then I’m going to report you for violation of Rule One. For the third time—Orange Wings!”

  Jeff growled something, dipped his right wing and dropped out of formation. The idiot sideslipped within five feet of Ariel’s wing tip. I should have reported him for that; all the room you can give a beginner is none too much.

  I said, “OK, Ariel?”

  “OK, Holly. I’m sorry Jeff is angry.”

  “He’ll get over it. Tell me if you feel tired.”

  “I’m not. I want to go all the way up. How high are we?”

  “Four hundred feet, maybe.”

  Jeff flew below us a while, then climbed and flew over us… probably for the same reason I did: to see better. It suited me to have two of us watching her as long as he didn’t interfere; I was beginning to fret that Ariel might not realize that the way down was going to be as long and tiring as the way up. I was hoping she would cry uncle. I knew I could glide until forced down by starvation. But a beginner gets tense.

  Jeff stayed generally over us, sweeping back and forth—he’s too active to glide very long—while Ariel and I continued to soar, winding slowly up toward the roof. It finally occurred to me when we were about halfway up that I could cry uncle myself; I didn’t have to wait for Ariel to weaken. So I called out, “Ariel? Tired now?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I am. Could we go down, please?”

  She didn’t argue, she just said, “All right. What am I to do?”

  “Lean right and get out of the circle.” I intended to have her move out five or six hundred feet, get into the return down draft, and circle the cave down instead of up. I glanced up, looking for Jeff. I finally spotted him some distance away and much higher but coming toward us. I called out, “Jeff! See you on the ground.” He might not have heard me but he would see if he didn’t hear; I glanced back at Ariel.

  I couldn’t find her.

  Then I saw her, a hundred feet below—flailing her wings and falling, out of control.

  I didn’t know how it happened. Maybe she leaned too far, went into a sideslip and started to struggle. But I didn’t try to figure it out; I was simply filled with horror. I seemed to hang there frozen for an hour while I watched her.

  But the fact appears to be that I screamed “Jeff!” and broke into a stoop.

  But I didn’t seem to fall, couldn’t overtake her. I spilled my wings completely—but couldn’t manage to fall; she was as far away as ever.

  You do start slowly, of course; our low gravity is the only thing that makes human flying possible. Even a stone falls a scant three feet in the first second. But that first second seemed endless.

  Then I knew I was falling. I could feel rushing air—but I still didn’t seem to close on her. Her struggles must have slowed her somewhat, while I was in an intentional stoop, wings spilled and raised over my head, falling as fast as possible. I had a wild notion that if I could pull even with her, I could shout sense into her head, get her to dive, then straighten out in a glide. But I couldn’t reach her.

  This nightmare dragged on for hours.

  Actually we didn’t have room to fall for more than twenty seconds; that’s all it takes to stoop a thousand feet. But twenty seconds can be horribly long… long enough to regret every foolish thing I had ever done or said, long enough to say a prayer for us both… and to say good-by to Jeff in my heart. Long enough to see the floor rushing toward us and know that we were both going to crash if I didn’t overtake her mighty quick.

  I glanced up and Jeff was stooping right over us but a long way up. I looked down at once… and I was overtaking her… I was passing her—I was under her!

  Then I was braking with everything I had, almost pulling my wings off. I grabbed air, held it, and started to beat without ever going to level flight. I beat once, twice, three times… and
hit her from below, jarring us both.

  Then the floor hit us.

  I felt feeble and dreamily contented. I was on my back in a dim room. I think Mother was with me and I know Daddy was. My nose itched and I tried to scratch it, but my arms wouldn’t work. I fell asleep again.

  I woke up hungry and wide awake. I was in a hospital bed and my arms still wouldn’t work, which wasn’t surprising as they were both in casts. A nurse came in with a tray. “Hungry?” she asked.

  “Starved,” I admitted.

  “We’ll fix that.” She started feeding me like a baby.

  I dodged the third spoonful and demanded, “What happened to my arms?”

  “Hush,” she said and gagged me with a spoon.

  But a nice doctor came in later and answered my question. “Nothing much. Three simple fractures. At your age you’ll heal in no time. But we like your company so I’m holding you for observation of possible internal injury.”

  “I’m not hurt inside,” I told him. “At least, I don’t hurt.”

  “I told you it was just an excuse.”

  “Uh, Doctor?”

  “Well?”

  “Will I be able to fly again?” I waited, scared.

  “Certainly. I’ve seen men hurt worse get up and go three rounds.”

  “Oh. Well, thanks. Doctor? What happened to the other girl? Is she… did she… ?”

  “Brentwood? She’s here.”

  “She’s right here,” Ariel agreed from the door. “May I come in?”

  My jaw dropped, then I said, “Yeah. Sure. Come in.”

  The doctor said, “Don’t stay long,” and left. I said, “Well, sit down.”

  “Thanks.” She hopped instead of walked and I saw that one foot was bandaged. She got on the end of the bed.

  “You hurt your foot.”

  She shrugged. “Nothing. A sprain and a torn ligament. Two cracked ribs. But I would have been dead. You know why I’m not?”

  I didn’t answer. She touched one of my casts. “That’s why. You broke my fall and I landed on top of you. You saved my life and I broke both your arms.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. I would have done it for anybody.”

  “I believe you and I wasn’t thanking you. You can’t thank a person for saving your life. I just wanted to make sure you knew that I knew it.”

  I didn’t have an answer so I said, “Where’s Jeff? Is he all right?”

  “He’ll be along soon. Jeff’s not hurt… though I’m surprised he didn’t break both ankles. He stalled in beside us so hard that he should have. But Holly… Holly my very dear… I slipped in so that you and I could talk about him before he got here.”

  I changed the subject quickly. Whatever they had given me made me feel dreamy and good, but not beyond being embarrassed. “Ariel, what happened? You were getting along fine—then suddenly you were in trouble.”

  She looked sheepish. “My own fault. You said we were going down, so I looked down. Really looked, I mean. Before that, all my thoughts had been about climbing clear to the roof; I hadn’t thought about how far down the floor was. Then I looked down… and got dizzy and panicky and went all to pieces.” She shrugged. “You were right. I wasn’t ready.”

  I thought about it and nodded. “I see. But don’t worry—when my arms are well, I’ll take you up again.”

  She touched my foot. “Dear Holly. But I won’t be flying again; I’m going back where I belong.”

  “Earthside?”

  “Yes. I’m taking the Billy Mitchell on Wednesday.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  She frowned slightly. “Are you? Holly, you don’t like me, do you?”

  I was startled silly. What can you say? Especially when it’s true? “Well,” I said slowly, “I don’t dislike you. I just don’t know you very well.”

  She nodded. “And I don’t know you very well… even though I got to know you a lot better in a very few seconds. But Holly… listen please and don’t get angry. It’s about Jeff. He hasn’t treated you very well the last few days—while I’ve been here, I mean. But don’t be angry with him. I’m leaving and everything will be the same.”

  That ripped it open and I couldn’t ignore it, because if I did, she would assume all sorts of things that weren’t so. So I had to explain… about me being a career woman… how, if I had seemed upset, it was simply distress at breaking up the firm of Jones & Hardesty before it even finished its first starship… how I was not in love with Jeff but simply valued him as a friend and associate… but if Jones & Hardesty couldn’t carry on, then Jones & Company would. “So you see, Ariel, it isn’t necessary for you to give up Jeff. If you feel you owe me something, just forget it. It isn’t necessary.”

  She blinked and I saw with amazement that she was holding back tears. “Holly, Holly… you don’t understand at all.”

  “I understand all right. I’m not a child.”

  “No, you’re a grown woman… but you haven’t found it out.” She held up a finger. “One—Jeff doesn’t love me.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “Two… I don’t love him.”

  “I don’t believe that, either.”

  “Three… you say you don’t love him—but we’ll take that up when we come to it. Holly, am I beautiful?”

  Changing the subject is a female trait but I’ll never learn to do it that fast. “Huh?”

  “I said, ‘Am I beautiful?’”

  “You know darn well you are!”

  “Yes. I can sing a bit and dance, but I would get few parts if I were not, because I’m no better than a third-rate actress. So I have to be beautiful. How old am I?”

  I managed not to boggle. “Huh? Older than Jeff thinks you are. Twenty-one, at least. Maybe twenty-two.”

  She sighed. “Holly, I’m old enough to be your mother.”

  “Huh? I don’t believe that, either.”

  “I’m glad it doesn’t show. But that’s why, though Jeff is a dear, there never was a chance that I could fall in love with him. But how I feel about him doesn’t matter; the important thing is that he loves you.”

  “What? That’s the silliest thing you’ve said yet! Oh, he likes me—or did. But that’s all.” I gulped. “And it’s all I want. Why, you should hear the way he talks to me.”

  “I have. But boys that age can’t say what they mean; they get embarrassed.”

  “But—”

  “Wait, Holly. I saw something you didn’t because you were knocked cold. When you and I bumped, do you know what happened?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Jeff arrived like an avenging angel, a split second behind us. He was ripping his wings off as he hit, getting his arms free. He didn’t even look at me. He just stepped across me and picked you up and cradled you in his arms, all the while bawling his eyes out.”

  “He did?”

  “He did.”

  I mulled it over. Maybe the big lunk did kind of like me, after all.

  Ariel went on, “So you see, Holly, even if you don’t love him, you must be very gentle with him, because he loves you and you can hurt him terribly.”

  I tried to think. Romance was still something that a career woman should shun… but if Jeff really did feel that way—well… would it be compromising my ideals to marry him just to keep him happy? To keep the firm together? Eventually, that is?

  But if I did, it wouldn’t be Jones & Hardesty; it would be Hardesty & Hardesty.

  Ariel was still talking: “—you might even fall in love with him. It does happen, hon, and if it did, you’d be sorry if you had chased him away. Some other girl would grab him; he’s awfully nice.”

  “But—” I shut up for I heard Jeff’s step—I can always tell it. He stopped in the door and looked at us, frowning.

  “Hi, Ariel.”

  “Hi, Jeff.”

  “Hi, Fraction.” He looked me over. “My, but you’re a mess.”

  “You aren’t pretty yourself. I hear you have flat feet.” />
  “Permanently. How do you brush your teeth with those things on your arms?”

  “I don’t.”

  Ariel slid off the bed, balanced on one foot. “Must run. See you later, kids.”

  “So long, Ariel.”

  “Good-by, Ariel. Uh… thanks.”

  Jeff closed the door after she hopped away, came to the bed and said gruffly, “Hold still.”

  Then he put his arms around me and kissed me.

  Well, I couldn’t stop him, could I? With both arms broken? Besides, it was consonant with the new policy for the firm. I was startled speechless because Jeff never kisses me, except birthday kisses, which don’t count. But I tried to kiss back and show that I appreciated it.

  I don’t know what the stuff was they had been giving me but my ears began to ring and I felt dizzy again.

  Then he was leaning over me. “Runt,” he said mournfully, “you sure give me a lot of grief.”

  “You’re no bargain yourself, flathead,” I answered with dignity.

  “I suppose not.” He looked me over sadly. “What are you crying for?”

  I didn’t know that I had been. Then I remembered why. “Oh, Jeff— I busted my pretty wings!”

  “We’ll get you more. Uh, brace yourself. I’m going to do it again.”

  “All right.” He did.

  I suppose Hardesty & Hardesty has more rhythm than Jones & Hardesty.

  It really sounds better.

  “If This Goes On—”

  IT WAS COLD on the rampart. I slapped my numbed hands together, then stopped hastily for fear of disturbing the Prophet. My post that night was just outside his personal apartments—a post that I had won by taking more than usual care to be neat and smart at guard mount… but I had no wish to call attention to myself now.

  I was young then and not too bright—a legate fresh out of West Point, and a guardsman in the Angels of the Lord, the personal guard of the Prophet Incarnate. At birth my mother had consecrated me to the Church and at eighteen my Uncle Absolom, a senior lay censor, had prayed an appointment to the Military Academy for me from the Council of Elders.