Barbary

On the TV screen, the shuttle prepared to launch. It had to take off within a specific period of time, during the launch window. When those few minutes had passed and the shuttle lifted off, Barbary’s last chance would vanish in the trail of the rockets.

Jack came out of the tunnel. He walked through the waiting room quickly, without looking at Barbary.

“There’s one seat left,” she said as he reached the door.

He stood very still with his shoulders hunched and stiff. After a moment he faced her

“Now, see here —!” He cut off the words and began again, though he still sounded angry. “You aren’t going to get on this flight.”

“Kick off those bodyguards. Then there’ll be room for everybody.”

“I can’t do that.”

“The ship can’t wait much longer,” Barbary said with desperation. “We’re already into the launch window. Let me get on. Tell the pilot to take off and tell the people who’re coming that they’re too late. Everybody knows you can’t delay a shuttle like any old airplane. Then you won’t have to try to figure out which one of them to give the seat to.”

Jack not only looked tempted, he looked as if he were about to grin. But he shook his head. “I don’t have the authority.”

“Then who does?” Barbary cried.

He left the room, not even looking back.

“Barbary, please sit down,” Mr. Smith said. “Relax. I can’t understand why you’re so upset. Be reasonable. It isn’t going to hurt you to wait for the next shuttle.”

“Yes it is! I have to —!” She stopped, afraid she had already said too much, afraid she had aroused his suspicions. She was on her feet, clutching her silver coin till its smooth worn edge cut into her palm. She did not even remember standing up. Holding back tears of rage and frustration, she obeyed Mr. Smith’s request. She did not know what she was going to do if she had to wait for another liftoff. She feared she would have to choose between abandoning her chance to emigrate and breaking a promise that meant as much to her as her dreams.

Chapter Two

The seconds display on the clock flicked along as if time were speeding up. Neither of the other two passengers had arrived.

“They can’t leave without me,” Barbary said.

“I’m afraid they can,” Mr. Smith said. “So let’s go home.”

“But I’m right here, and they’re taking off with an empty place.”

“There’s nothing to be done about it, Barbary. These things happen. Come along, now.”

He took her arm. She jumped up and tried to pull away.

“It’s stupid!” she said. “It doesn’t make any sense! It’s — it’s a waste of taxpayers’ money!” Even as she said it she knew how ridiculous it sounded, though it was perfectly true.

“You’re right,” someone behind her said.

Mr. Smith looked up. Startled, Barbary turned. Jeanne Velory stood in the entrance tunnel, leaning out with her hands against its sides.

“You’re right,” she said again to Barbary. “Come on, let’s go.

Mr. Smith was so surprised that his grip on Barbary’s arm loosened. She pulled away. Dr. Velory grinned and disappeared into the tunnel. Barbary grabbed her duffel bag and sprinted after her, without a backward look.

She had to run to keep up. The secret pocket jounced. She bent slightly sideways to try to hold it still.

At the elevator, Dr. Velory stopped and waited, holding the door for her. “Are you okay? Do you have a stitch in your side?”

“No,” Barbary said, then, “well, yeah, I guess.”

Dr. Velory let the doors close. The elevator lifted them past several rows of seats, then stopped. Doors on each side opened. The vice president and one of his bodyguards sat on the left. The vice president read a newspaper and the bodyguard watched for assassins.

Dr. Velory gestured to the right, to the last empty seats. Because the shuttle had to sit on its tail for liftoff, the place that would have been the floor in a regular airplane formed a vertical surface, like a wall leading up between the passenger seats, which lay flat back in the horizontal position necessary for liftoff.

Barbary slid across and into her place. The elevator fell away, then its shaft retracted. It was part of the launch facility, not part of the spacecraft. After delivering the passengers to their places, it withdrew behind the safety of walls of concrete. The doors of the shuttle bay closed, sealing the passengers safely inside.

Barbary looked around. One of the bodyguards watched her from across the aisle.

“That was pretty risky, Dr. Velory.”

“Not nearly as risky as having Reston and Kartoff arguing over one seat,” she said.

Instead of responding to her joke, he frowned. “Just what we need right now on the station — a kid.”

“She’ll be a good deal less out of place,” Dr. Velory said, her voice soft and cool, “than the Secret Service.”

The vice president remained hidden behind his newspaper as the bodyguard started to retort.

The second bodyguard leaned toward them from the next row down. “Why don’t you lighten up, Frank?”

Frank glared at him, too, then snorted in annoyance and lay back in his seat with his arms folded.