Kemlo and the Gravity Rays

Book 0: Kemlo

by E.C. Eliott

Genres: Science Fiction; Alien Contact; Post-Apocalyptic sci-fi

Synopsis

Earth-born men had been able to travel to Space, but till now Space-born men had not been able to travel to Earth. It was left for Space-born boys - Kemlo, and his friends Kerowski and Karten - to blaze this trail.

Release date: June 29, 2016

Publisher: Gateway

Print pages: 202

Sample

‘THE Elders of this Satellite Belt,’ said Kemlo’s father, ‘have as much power and greater responsibility than the ancient kings and queens who ruled on Earth in the olden days. This satellite in the sky, more than a thousand miles above Earth, is a world on its own. For centuries men dreamed and planned to achieve it, but not one of the early pioneers of space travel believed it possible for the children of Earth-born people to be born and raised in space. Even if they did, the thought was dismissed as a fantastic and impossible dream. But we know that the impossible has happened, don’t we, Kem?’ He smiled as he looked proudly at his son.

Kemlo laughed. ‘I suppose we space boys who were born on the Satellite Belts can’t help being a bit scornful sometimes, because it’s a perfectly natural life to us. But we never get used to the Elders and other Earth-born people looking on us as freaks.’

‘Oh, no, no!’ Kemlo’s father protested emphatically. ‘That’s a horrible word to use. Not for one moment do we grown-ups think of you as freaks. You’re normal healthy children, but to us you represent a new age. A marvellous but, at times, frightening proof of new worlds which will be peopled by our own children—worlds which a century ago were regarded as fantastic dreams.’

‘But, Dad!’ Kemlo exclaimed. ‘Centuries ago new worlds were discovered on Earth; places like America and Africa. Did those explorers regard the people they found in them as—as fantastic?’

‘Strange, perhaps, especially the coloured races when seen by a white man for the first time, but seldom fantastic,’ his father admitted. ‘But you can’t really compare that period of Earth’s history with the development of the space worlds. Climates varied, and often the white man found tropical heat or arctic conditions exhausting. Some died from fevers and other dangers of climate, but most explorers were able to adjust themselves to extremes of heat and so on.’ He looked steadily at the boy as he added slowly and emphatically: ‘But never in the history of Man has there existed a relationship like ours, Kemlo; where you, who are my son, are able to live in space without protective clothing and special breathing apparatus, when a few seconds’ exposure would kill me—as it would all Earth-born parents of the children on this satellite—yet if you visited Earth, you would be choked by the atmosphere and crippled by the gravity pull. And that, my boy, is a quite fantastic situation to us grown-ups.’

Kemlo scrubbed a hand through his hair and nodded.

‘M’m, I can see what you mean, Dad. But being born to it, I and the rest of us look at it differently. You just mentioned something about the Elders. I know they’re the most important men on the Belt, but why do you speak of them just now?’

‘Because upon their shoulders and in their minds lies the final responsibility for making a tremendous and grave decision. That’s one reason why I wanted to speak to you alone.’

They were sitting in one of the smaller open sections of Satellite Belt K. Kemlo, who was wearing his Captain of Space Scouts uniform, edged forward on his chair and looked eagerly at his father. Like all boys born on the Satellite Belts, Kemlo had very wide shoulders, a deep chest and, except for slightly weighted soles to his boots, which enabled him to walk evenly and keep his leg muscles exercised, he wore ordinary clothes.

Over the simple but smart uniform of Chief Technician, Kemlo’s father wore the light transparent plastic type of space suit—with small canisters of oxygen and diathene hanging from the shoulders, and a powerful resistor transmitting and receiving set attached to his throat—used by all parents when visiting their children in the open sections of the Belt. When moving outside the Belt all Earth-born people wore a heavily armoured space suit, but these were not necessary inside. The plastic material was so light that, except for the sheen of its creasing around the wearer’s body and a slight ballooning around the neck as they breathed, in a dim light the suit was practically invisible.

These self-sealing envelope suits were used only once, and when removed in the air-lock before entering their air-conditioned sections, the grownups merely detached the oxygen and diathene canisters, the waste converter and resistor set, then dropped the suit into a chute. This carried it down to the plant which dissolved the plastic, sterilised and re-embodied it before passing it through a machine process until it emerged again as a space suit, with the self-sealing edges left open so that the wearer could easily pull it on.

Although Kemlo saw his parents nearly every day and spent many hours in their company, his father didn’t make a habit of special meetings such as this, when he spoke seriously and sometimes at length on subjects Kemlo did his best to follow and understand, but which at times left him feeling a trifle bewildered. He and his friends had been born to this life in space on Satellite Belt K, and they were happy in it, but everything was so very different from what he had read about the lives of Earth-born children. He supposed that his friends’ fathers also held man-to-man talks with them, although he doubted if the subjects discussed were anything like those discussed between himself and his father.

As Kemlo sat watching his father, who leaned back in his chair frowning thoughtfully, as if trying to decide upon the right words to use, he had the feeling that soon he would hear something a little different from usual. His father’s first words after this pause did much to confirm it.

‘You’ve heard of a project the scientists call EASHAM?’

‘I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know much about it, except that it’s supposed to be connected with us. But these scientific bods are always cooking up weird names for their experiments.’ Kemlo suddenly clapped a hand to his mouth, removed it and smiled apologetically. ‘Oh, sorry, Dad! I sometimes forget you’re one of the science bods!’

‘That’s all right, son.’ His father chuckled. ‘We’re used to being called names. In a way it’s a compliment and a form of affection.’

‘What about this thing they call EASHAM?’

‘E.A.S.H.A.M. is a simple way of referring to experiments in—Earth Acclimatising of Space-born Human’s Actions and Motivation.’

‘Phew! No wonder they give it a simple name made up of the first letters. What does it all mean?’

‘What it says.’

‘I feel rather dim this evening, but it seems that it refers to how fellows like me would react to Earth conditions.’

‘That about sums it up. We now have reached the final and successful stage in our experiment, and can do no more until it’s tested by actual persons. This project has had to be carried out with as much thoroughness and care and foresight as possible. It provided even more problems than did the devising of a space suit many years ago. That’s why I’ve been talking about the responsibility of the Elders and the difficulties of making grave decisions. Scientists work impersonally as a rule. They have to, but often they are faced with human problems, and until those are solved no technical and scientific problems can be overcome.’ Kemlo’s father leaned forward in his chair and smiled as he continued:

‘You see, Kem—life, whether on Earth or in space, never stops. Man must go on. Centuries ago on Earth they built ships to cross the great waters in search of other lands. Centuries later they built aeroplanes to fly above those waters, and in so doing made the world a smaller place. After the aeroplane came the rocket, the guided missile, the electronic brain, which, encased in its armour and crammed with instruments, was sent five hundred miles into space to bring back to Earth answers to questions posed by the scientists of that day. Then came bigger rockets, all automatically controlled, until the scientists perfected flight into space, and were ready for their monster machines to carry human cargo.

‘When at last they reached a thousand miles into space, so began the project of building these artificial planets we now call Satellite Belts. From these Belts the great research ships go plummeting into space, searching for yet more worlds to conquer. For years people have lived on these satellites. Lived full and happy lives—momentous lives which made history every day that passed.

‘Then came the greatest event of all—the raising of the first space-born generation. Your generation, Kemlo. You are a living triumph of medical and human science—healthy, happy and vigorous children born to live in space.’ His father shrugged expressively. ‘So you see, son, throughout the centuries Man has always moved forward. And now that we have successfully concluded the experiments in this project called EASHAM, the time has come for them to be finally and conclusively proved; and it is for us parents of space-born children together with the Elders and—perhaps the most important of all—you yourselves to make these grave decisions.’

Kemlo now realised what his father had been leading up to, and why he had taken so long in voicing this very important news.

‘You mean you want volunteers to prove whether or not EASHAM is really successful?’ he asked.

His father nodded slowly, then frowned and shook his head.

‘Yes and no,’ he replied at last. ‘We need volunteers; but they must be boys who have proved not only their physical health and strength but who have the necessary character and intelligence. No boy will be told to take part in any experiments, but we cannot make an open offer for volunteers.’

‘What does Mother say about all this?’ Kemlo asked quietly.

‘Your mother is a wonderful woman, Kem.’ His father sighed gently. ‘So are the wives of other technicians on this Belt who are mothers of space-born children. They came up here with us when we were young and took their chance of life because they believed, with us, in the future. They made a big decision then, and some of them have to make an even bigger one now. The Elders and all the grown-ups, also many deep-thinking men down on Earth, feel it is wrong that your generation should have to remain for ever in space.’

‘But we’re quite happy,’ Kemlo protested.

‘We know that and are glad of it. But, while Earth-born children can visit you on this Satellite Belt and come to no harm, providing they wear the proper space-suit equipment—you can never visit Earth, which is, after all, your real home. Many years ago when you space-born children were very young, it was decided that a way had to be found for you to visit Earth so that you could, at first hand, see life as it is lived by millions of people; so that you could understand that way of life. Up to now you know only what your parents have taught you, they and your lessons at school. Some of you boys have visited Deimos, one of the moonlets of Mars; have accompanied an expedition to the Moon. You have found strange breakaway planets on occasions when you went too far in your space scooters. Life has been full and exciting, and you have had experiences beyond the wildest dreams of those early space pioneers. Yet this has all seemed quite natural to you because you are space-born boys. But you could never visit Earth.’

‘And now?’ Kemlo asked as his father paused.

‘Now we are convinced that you can. And we all must have the courage to see our conviction proved in fact. If we are wrong—if somewhere our calculations are at fault—then someone might die.’

‘Many of the early space pilots died,’ said Kemlo. ‘Something went wrong, but it wasn’t always the fault of the scientists.’

‘Maybe not, but the result was the same.’ Kemlo’s father gripped the boy’s hand as he said: ‘Although you’re young, I believe you have sufficient intelligence and character to answer a question, a very serious question.’

‘Yes, Dad?’

‘If you had a younger brother who had the opportunity to take part in an historic experiment—in something which by all reasoning should be safe but might fail—would you stop him taking part?’

‘I think …’ Kemlo . . .