“Oh! Could you?”
“Is the captain of a spacecraft legally empowered to perform marriages?” Fuchs asked.
“Oughtta be,” Pancho said, shrugging.
They reached Dan’s compartment and softly slid the accordion door back. Dan was lying on his back, his eyes closed, a sweaty sheet covering the lower half of his body.
“He’s sleeping,” Amanda said.
Dan’s eyes popped open. “How can a sick man sleep with all the racket you’re making?” he said, barely above a whisper.
Amanda’s hands flew to her face. Fuchs started to apologize.
Dan waved a feeble hand to silence him. “If you can establish a comm link, you can get somebody on Earth to perform the ceremony.”
“Hey, that’s right,” Pancho said.
Licking his dry, cracked lips, Dan asked, “You want the Pope in
Rome? I’ve got some connections.” Looking at Amanda, he added, “How about the Archbishop of Canterbury?”
“One of the ministers in Selene will do,” Amanda said softly.
“I get it,” Dan said. “You’re in a hurry.”
Fuchs turned red.
“I want to give the bride away,” Dan said.
“Sure. Fine,” said Pancho. “I’ll set up the comm link.” She headed back toward the bridge.
It took longer to make the arrangements than to perform the ceremony, even with a twelve-minute lag between the ship and Selene. Amanda and Fuchs stood by Dan’s bunk with Pancho behind them. They had no flowers, no wedding attire except the coveralls they’d been wearing. The minister appeared on the wall screen opposite Dan’s bunk. He was the pastor of Selene’s interfaith chapel, a Lutheran: an ascetically thin young German with hair so blond it looked nearly white. Amanda could see that he was in his office, not the chapel itself. That didn’t matter, she told herself. He conducted the brief rite in English and with great dignity, despite the time lag between them.
“Do each of you take the other for your lawful spouse?” the young minister asked.
“I do,” said Fuchs immediately.
“I do,” Amanda said.
They stood there feeling foolish and fidgety for the six minutes it took their response to reach the minister and the six additional minutes it took his words to reach them.
At last he said, “Then I pronounce you husband and wife. Congratulations. You may kiss the bride.”
Amanda turned to Fuchs and they embraced. Pancho thanked the minister and cut the electronic link. The wall screen went dark.
They turned to Dan, lying in his bunk.
“He’s fallen asleep,” Amanda whispered. But she stared at Dan’s sweat-stained tee-shirt. His chest didn’t seem to be moving.
Fuchs leaned over the bunk and pressed two fingers against Dan’s carotid artery.
“I don’t feel a pulse,” he said.
Pancho grabbed Dan’s wrist. “No pulse,” she agreed.
“He’s dead?” Amanda asked, feeling tears welling up in her eyes.
Fuchs nodded solemnly.
LIFE
Pancho’s heart was thumping, and not merely from the heavier gravity of Earth. The quarterly meeting of Astro Corporation’s board of directors was about to begin. Would they follow Dan’s wishes and vote her onto the board? And what if they do? What do I know about directing a big corporation? she asked herself.
Not much, she admitted. But if Dan thought I could do it, then I gotta at least give it my best shot.
She stared at the other directors as they milled around the sideboard of the luxurious meeting room, pouring drinks for themselves and picking out delicate little sandwiches and stuff. They all looked old, and dignified, and wicked rich. Most of the women wore dresses, by jeeps, or suits with skirts. Expensive clothes. Lots of jewelry, too. Pancho felt shabby in her best pantsuit and no adornments except for a bracelet and pendant earrings of lunar aluminum.
They were ignoring her. They clumped together in twos and threes, talking to each other in low voices, not whispers exactly, but little buzzing heads-together conversations. Nobody even looked her way, yet Pancho got the feeling that were all talking about her.
Not even the plump oriental woman in the bright red dress spoke to her. She must know what it’s like to be an outsider, Pancho thought. But she’s keeping her distance, just like all the others.