Barbary

Something secret, something unusual, was going on, something to do with the space colonies.

Barbary wondered angrily what the big mystery was. Any other time she would have been fascinated and curious, but right now what mattered was that she would probably be bumped off this flight, too. If she- did not take today’s shuttle, the space transport would boost from low earth orbit to the research station, Einstein, without her. Einstein traveled in a highly elliptical polar orbit that took it far from earth, even farther than the moon. For three-quarters of its orbit, it lay out of range of any spacecraft. If she did not catch this evening’s transport, she would have to wait over a month for the next trip. And a month from now would be too late.

Her fear made her angry and defensive. This was a matter of life and death.

She forced herself not to reach into the secret pocket to be sure everything was all right.

It isn’t there, she thought. Don’t touch it. Nothing’s in it. It isn’t even there.

And so what if I don’t get on board this time, or ever? she thought, trying to persuade herself not to care. It probably won’t make any difference at all. Even if I get to go to space, everything will probably be just the same.

Jack came out of the loading tunnel and strode across the waiting room, ignoring Barbary.

“When do I get to go on board?” she asked. In the silence of the small room, her voice sounded loud and sullen.

I don’t care if I get to go or not, she thought. I really don’t care.

She tried to make herself believe it.

Jack stopped and turned unwillingly toward her, tired of answering her questions.

“Look, I just don’t know, all right?” He made himself grin. “Why don’t you go get yourself a nice glass of juice?”

Though her stomach had been growling for the past hour, Barbary shook her head. That was a clincher. The instructions for riding the shuttle recommended eating a light breakfast, and nothing afterward. If Jack thought Barbary had a chance to get on board today, he would not tell her to drink anything. She wished he would just say so and be done with it, instead of patronizing her with fake smiles.

Turning away from him, trying to hold back tears, she glared at the closed-circuit TV. Watching it was like being in a dream where she could see herself from a distance, for the waiting room in which she sat was quite visible as a low concrete building near the launch tower. Nothing moved in the picture except the long wisps of vapor.

When Jack returned, he accompanied three people in business suits. One carried a briefcase. He was middle-aged, and though Barbary could not immediately place him, he looked as familiar as the secretary-general. The other two were much younger, and they were obviously his bodyguards. Both wore half-tinted glasses, the kind that would darken in sunlight. One wore an earring — an earphone, like a TV reporter’s — and the other wore a wide, thin bracelet, a nanocomputer, the smallest Barbary had ever seen.

None of them spoke. The first bodyguard went ahead into the tunnel. Jack stood aside for the others to precede him, but the second bodyguard motioned him on with a quick jerk of his head, waited for Jack and the older, man to pass, then brought up the rear. Barbary watched the silent ballet. Under other circumstances she might have laughed. But nothing felt very funny right now. Jack returned, looking grim.

“Who were they?” Barbary said.

“Never mind.”

“You might as well tell me, I’m going to remember for myself in a minute. The old guy, anyway.”

Jack shrugged. “You’ll have to, then, because I can’t tell you. You probably shouldn’t even be here to see him.”

“I have a right to be here! I have a ticket. I have a reservation. Just like I did twice before!”

“Look, there isn’t anything I can do.”

Barbary remembered. “The guy who wasn’t wired up was the vice president,” she said. “That’s right, isn’t it? Those bodyguards are coming back out, aren’t they?”

“No.”

“You mean he’s taking them to the research station? Why? What for?”

“Rules. Federal law, for all I know.”

“He’s taking up two extra seats,” Barbary said, then stopped her pointless protest. Jack knew as well as she did — as well as anybody who knew anything did — how useless bodyguards would be in space. No one owned weapons; everyone in the small population knew everyone else. The crime rate was so low that there practically was no crime rate. Barbary supposed that people sometimes got mad enough to want to punch each other out, and maybe even did it once in a while, but the deliberate, vicious sort of violence that made bodyguards necessary on earth simply never happened.

“Bodyguards,” Barbary said with disgust.

Jack shrugged. No doubt he had to face stupid rules even more often than Barbary did. They were not his fault. That was the trouble. They were never anybody’s fault. Therefore no one could ever be found who had the authority to bend or break or stretch them.

“Nothing I can do,” Jack said, and left the waiting room.