by Jack Vance
“First, why bother with the sail when nuclear jet-ships are faster, more dependable, more direct, safer and easier to navigate? The answer is threefold. First, a sail is not a bad way to move heavy cargo slowly but cheaply through space. Secondly, the range of the sail is unlimited, since we employ the mechanical pressure of light for thrust, and therefore need cany neither propulsive machinery, material to be ejected, nor energy source. The solar sail is much lighter than its nuclear-powered counterpart, and may carry a larger complement of men in a larger hull. Thirdly, to train a man for space there is no better instrument than the handling of a sail. The computer naturally calculates sail cant and plots the course; in fact, without the computer we’d be dead ducks. Nevertheless the control of a sail provides working familiarity with the cosmic elementals: light, gravity, mass, space.
“There are two types of sail: pure and composite. The first relies on solar energy exclusively, the second carries a secondary power source. We have been assigned Number Twenty-Five, which is the first sort. It consists of a hull, a large parabolic reflector which serves as radar and radio antenna, as well as reflector for the power generator; and the sail itself. The pressure of radiation, of course, is extremely slight—on the order of an ounce per acre at this distance from the sun. Necessarily the sail must be extremely large and extremely light. We use a fluoro-siliconic film a tenth of a mil in gauge, fogged with lithium to the state of opacity. I believe the layer of lithium is about a thousand two hundred molecules thick. Such a foil weighs about four tons to the square mile. It is fitted to a hoop of thin-walled tubing, from which mono-crystalline iron cords lead to the hull.
“We try to achieve a weight factor of six tons to the square mile, which produces an acceleration of between g/one hundred and g/one thousand, depending on proximity to the sun, angle of cant, circum-solar orbital speed, reflectivity of surface. These accelerations seem minute, but calculation shows them to be cumulatively enormous. G/one hundred yields a velocity increment of eight hundred miles per hour every hour, eighteen thousand miles per hour each day, or five miles per second each day. At this rate interplanetary distances are readily negotiable—with proper manipulation of the sail, I need hardly say.
“The virtues of the sail I’ve mentioned. It is cheap to build and cheap to operate. It requires neither fuel, nor ejecta'nt. As it travels through space, the great. area captures various ions, which may be expelled in the plasma jet powered by the parabolic reflector, which adds another increment to the acceleration.
“The disadvantages of the sail are those of the glider or sailing ship, in that we must use natural forces with great precision and delicacy.
“There is no particular limit to the size of the sail. On Twenty-Five we use about four square miles of sail. For the present voyage we will install a new sail, as the old is well worn and eroded.
“That will be all for today.”
Once more Henry Belt limped down from the dais and out the passage. On this occasion there were no comments.
2
The eight cadets shared a dormitory, attended classes together, ate at the same table in the mess hall. In various shops and laboratories they assembled, disassembled and reassembled computers, pumps, generators, gyro-platforms, star-trackers, communication gear. “It’s not enough to be clever with your hands,” said Henry Belt. “Dexterity is not enough. Resourcefulness, creativity, the ability to make successful improvisations—these are more important. We’ll test you out.” And presently each of the cadets was introduced into a room on the floor of which lay a great heap of mingled housings, wires, flexes, gears, components of a dozen varieties of mechanism. “This is a twerity-six-hour test,” said Henry Belt. “Each of you has an identical set of components and supplies. There shall be no exchange of parts or information between you. Those whom I suspect of this fault will be dropped from the class, without recommendation. What I want you to build is, first, one standard Aminex Mark Nine Computer. Second, a servo-mechanism to orient a mass ten kilograms toward Mu Hercules. Why Mu Hercules?”
“Because, sir, the solar system moves in the direction of Mu Hercules, and we thereby avoid parallax error. Negligible though it may be, sir.”
“The final comment smacks of frivolity, Mr. McGrath, which serves only to distract the attention of those who are trying to take careful note of my instructions. One demerit.”
“Sorry, sir. I merely intended to express my awareness that for many practical purposes such a degree of accuracy is unnecessary.”
“That idea, cadet, is sufficiently elemental that it need not be labored. I appreciate brevity and precision.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thirdly, from these materials, assemble a communication system, operating on one hundred watts, which will permit two-way conversation between Tycho Base and Phobos, at whatever frequency you deem suitable."
The cadets started in identical fashion by sorting the material into various piles, then calibrating and checking the test instruments. Achievement thereafter was disparate. Culpepper and von Gluck, diagnosing the test as partly one of mechanical ingenuity and partly ordeal by frustration, failed to become excited when several indispensable components proved either to be missing or inoperative, and carried each project as far as immediately feasible. McGrath and Weske, beginning with the computer, were reduced to rage and random action. Lynch and Sutton worked doggedly at the computer, Verona at the communication system.
Culpepper alone managed to complete one of the instruments, by the process of sawing, polishing and cementing together sections of two broken crystals into a crude, inefficient, but operative maser unit.
The day after this test McGrath and Weske disappeared from the dormitory, whether by their own volition or notification from Henry Belt, no one ever knew.
The test was followed by weekend leave. Cadet Lynch, attending a cocktail party, found himself in conversation with a Lieutenant-Colonel Trenchard, who shook his head pityingly to hear that Lynch was training with Henry Belt.
“I was up with Old Horrors myself. I tell you, it’s a miracle we ever got back. Belt was drunk two-thirds of the voyage.”
“How does he escape court-martial?” asked Lynch.
“Very simple. All the top men seem to have trained under Henry Belt. Naturally they hate his guts but they all take a perverse pride in the fact. And maybe they hope that someday a cadet will take him apart.”
“Have any ever tried?”
“Oh yes. I took a swing at Henry once. I was lucky to escape with a broken collarbone and two sprained ankles.
If you come back alive, you'll stand a good chance of reaching the top.”
The next evening Henry Belt passed the word. “Next Tuesday morning we go up. We’ll be gone several months.”
On Tuesday morning the cadets took their places in the angel-wagon. Henry Belt presently appeared. The pilot readied for takeoff.
“Hold your hats. On the count . . .” The projectile thrust against the earth, strained, rose, went streaking up into the sky. An hour later the pilot pointed. “There’s your boat. Old Twenty-Five. And Thirty-Nine right beside it, just in from space.”
Henry Belt stared aghast from the port. “What’s been done to the ship? The decoration? The red, the white, the yellow, the checkerboard?”
“Thank some idiot of a landlubber,” said the pilot. “The word came to pretty the old boats for a junket of congressmen.”
Henry Belt turned to the cadets. “Observe this foolishness. It is the result of vanity and ignorance. We will be occupied several days removing the paint.”
They drifted close below the two sails: No. 39 just down from space, spare and polished beside the bedizened structure of No. 25. In 39’s exit port a group of men waited, their gear floating at the end of cords.
“Observe those men,” said Henry Belt. “They are jaunty. They have been on a pleasant outing around the planet Mars. They are poorly trained. When you gentlemen return you will be haggard and desperate and
well trained. Now, gentlemen, clamp your helmets, and we will proceed.”
The helmets were secured. Henry Belt’s voice came by radio. “Lynch, Ostrander, will remain here to discharge cargo. Verona, Culpepper, von Gluck, Sutton, leap with cords to the ship; ferry across the cargo, stow it in the proper hatches.”
Henry Belt took charge of his personal cargo, which consisted of several large cases. He eased them out into space, clipped on lines, thrust them toward 25, leaped after. Pulling himself and the cases to the entrance port he disappeared within.
Discharge of cargo was effected. The crew from 39 transferred to the carrier, which thereupon swung down and away, thrust itself dwindling back toward Earth.
When the cargo had been stowed, the cadets gathered in the wardroom. Henry Belt appeared from the master’s cubicle.
“Gentlemen, how do you like the surroundings? Eh, Mr. Culpepper?”
“The hull is commodious, sir. The view is superb." Henry Belt nodded. “Mr. Lynch? Your impressions?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t sorted them out yet, sir.”
“I see. You, Mr. Sutton?”
“Space is larger than I imagined it, sir.”
“True. Space is unimaginable. A good spaceman must cither be larger than space, or he must ignore it. Both difficult. Well, gentlemen, I will make a few comments, then I will retire and enjoy the voyage. Since this is my last time out, I intend to do nothing whatever. The operation of the ship will be completely in your hands. I will merely appear from time to time to beam benevolently about, or alasl to make marks in my red book. Nominally I shall be in command, but you six will enjoy complete control over the ship. If you return us safely to Earth I will make an approving entry in my red book. If you wreck us or fling us into the sun, you will be more unhappy than I, since it is my destiny to die in space. Mr. von Gluck, do I perceive a smirk on your face?”
“No, sir, it is a thoughtful half-smile.”
“What is humorous in the concept of my demise, may I ask?”
“It will be a great tragedy, sir. I merely was reflecting upon the contemporary persistence of, well, not exactly superstition, but, let us say, the conviction of a subjective cosmos.”
Henry Belt made a notation in the. red book. “Whatever is meant by this barbaric jargon I’m sure T don’t know, Mr. von Gluck. It is clear that you fancy yourself a philosopher and dialectician. I will not fault this, so long as your remarks conceal no overtones of malice and insolence, to which 1 am extremely sensitive. Now, as to the persistence of superstition, only an impoverished mind considers itself the repository of absolute knowledge. Hamlet spoke on this subject to Horatio, as I recall, in the well-known work by William Shakespeare. I myself have seen strange and terrifying sights. Were they hallucinations? Were they the manipulation of the cosmos by my mind or the mind of someone—or something —other than myself? I do not know. I therefore counsel a flexible attitude toward matters where the truth is still unknown. For this reason: the impact of an inexplicable experience may well destroy a mind which is too brittle. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly, sir.”
“Very good. To return, then. We shall set a system of watches whereby each man works in turn with each of the other five. I thereby hope to discourage the formation of special friendships, or cliques.
“You have inspected the ship. The hull is a sandwich of lithium-beryllium, insulating foam, fiber and an interior skin. Very light, held rigid by air pressure rather than by any innate strength of the material. We can therefore afford enough space to stretch our legs and provide all of us with privacy.
“The master’s cubicle is to the left; under no circumstances is anyone permitted in my quarters. If you wish to speak to me, Tcnock on my door. If I appear, good. If I do not appear, go away. To the right are six cubicles which you may now distribute among yourselves by lot.
“Your schedule will be two hours study, four hours on watch, six hours off. I will require no specific rate of study progress, but I recommend that you make good use of your time.
“Our destination is Mars. We will presently construct a new sail, then while orbital velocity builds up, you will carefully test and check all equipment aboard. Each of you will compute sail cant and course and work out among yourselves any discrepancies which may appear. I shall take no hand in navigation. I prefer that you involve me in no disaster. If any such occur I shall severely mark down the persons responsible.
“Singing, whistling, humming, are forbidden. I disapprove of fear and hysteria, and mark accordingly. No one dies more than once; we are well aware of the risks of this, our chosen occupation. There will be no practical iokes. You may fight, so long as you do not disturb me or break any instruments; however, I counsel against it, as it leads to resentment, and
I have known cadets to kill each other. I suggest coolness and detachment in your personal relations. Use of the microfilm projector is of course at your own option. You may not use the radio either to dispatch or receive messages. In fact, I have put the radio out of commission, as is my practice. I do this to emphasize the fact that, sink or swim, we must make do with our own resources. Are there any questions? . . . Very good. You will find that if you all behave with scrupulous correctness and accuracy, we shall in due course return safe and sound, with a minimum of demerits and no casualties. I am bound to say, however, that in twelve previous voyages this has failed to occur. Now you select your cubicles, stow your gear. The carrier will bring up the new sail tomorrow, and you will go to work.”.
3
The carrier discharged a great bundle of three-inch tubing: paper-thin lithium hardened with beryllium, reinforced with filaments of mono-crystalline iron—a total length of eight miles. The cadets fitted the tubes end to end, cementing the joints. When the tube extended a quarter-mile it was bent bow shaped by a cord stretched between two ends, and further sections added. As the process continued the free end curved far out and around, and presently began to veer back in toward the hull. When the last tube was in place the loose end was hauled down, socketed home, to form a great hoop two and a half miles in diameter.
Henry Belt came out occasionally in his spacesuit to look on, and occasionally spoke a few words of sardonic comment, to which the cadets paid little heed. Their mood had changed; this was exhilaration, to be weightlessly afloat above the bright cloud-marked globe, with continent and ocean wheeling massively below. Anything seemed possible, even the training voyage with Henry Belt! When he came out to inspect their work, they grinned at each other with indulgent amusement. Henry Belt suddenly seemed a rather pitiful creature, a poor vagabond suited only for drunken bluster. Fortunate indeed that they were less naive than Henry Belt’s previous classes! They had taken Belt seriously; he had cowed them, reduced them to nervous pulp. Not this crew, not by a long shot! They saw through Henry Belt! Just keep your nose clean, do your work, keep cheerful. The training voyage won't last but a few months, and then real life begins. Gut it out, ignore Henry Belt as much as possible. This is the sensible attitude; the best way to keep on top of the situation.
Already the group had made a composite assessment of its members, arriving at a set of convenient labels. Culpepper: smooth, suave, easy-going. Lynch: excitable, argumentative, hot-tempered. Von Gluck: the artistic temperament, delicate with hands and sensibilities. Ostrander: prissy, finicky, overtidy. Sutton: moody, suspicious, competitive. Verona: the plugger, rough at the edges, but persistent and reliable.
Around the hull swung the gleaming hoop, and now the carrier brought up the sail, a great roll of darkly shining Stuff. When unfolded and unrolled, and unfolded many times more, it became a tough gleaming film, flimsy as gold leaf. Unfolded to its fullest extent it was a shimmering disk, already rippling and bulging to the light of the sun. The cadets fitted the film to the hoop, stretched it taut as a drumhead, cemented it in place. Now the sail must carefully be held edge on to the sun, or it would quickly move away, under a thrust of about a hundred pounds.
> From the rim, braided-iron threads were led to a ring at the back of the parabolic reflector, dwarfing this as the reflector dwarfed the hull, and now the sail was ready to move.
The carrier brought up a final cargo: water, food, spare parts, a new magazine for the microfilm viewer, mail. Then Henry Belt said, “Make sail.”
This was the process of turning the sail to catch the sunlight while the hull moved around Earth away from the sun, canting it parallel to the sun-rays when the ship moved on the sunward leg of its orbit: in short, building up an orbital velocity which in due course would stretch loose the bonds of Terrestrial gravity and send Sail 25 kiting out toward Mars.
During this period the cadets checked every item of equipment aboard the vessel. They grimaced with disgust and dismay at some of the instruments: 25 was an old ship, with antiquated gear. Henry Belt seemed to enjoy their grumbling. “This is a training voyage, not a pleasure cruise. If you wanted your noses wiped, you should have taken a post on the ground. And, 1 have no sympathy for faultfinders. If you wish a model by which to form your own conduct, Observe me.”
The moody introspective Sutton, usually the most diffident and laconic of individuals, ventured an ill-advised witticism. “If we modeled ourselves after you, sir, there’d be no room to move for the whiskey.”
Out came the red book. “Extraordinary impudence, Mr. Sutton. How can you yield so easily to malice?”
Sutton flushed pink; his eyes glistened, he opened his mouth to speak, then closed it firmly. Henry Belt, waiting politely expectant, turned away. “You gentlemen will perceive that I rigorously obey my own rules of conduct. I am regular as a clock. There is no better, more genial shipmate than Henry Belt. There is not a fairer man alive. Mr. Culpepper, you have a remark to make?”
“Nothing of consequence, sir."
Henry Belt went to the port, glared out at the sail. He swung around instantly. “Who is on watch?”
