The Exiles Trilogy

by Ben Bova

  Larry said as gently as he could, “Is that what you call proof of murder?”

  “What more proof do you need?” Dan blazed back. “He knew this would happen! He knew someone would try to subvert the whole voyage, push on to another star, get us all killed. He warned us.”

  “But how does that prove he was murdered?” one of the women asked.

  “Or that Dr. Loring’s accident wasn’t accidental?”

  Glowering at them, Dan replied, “We all know that if my father were alive now, he’d be revived and we’d vote him Chairman.”

  Larry said nothing.

  “And we also know that Dr. Loring was looking for another planet around some other star. If he had found such a planet he’d be blathering it all over the ship. He said nothing, because he couldn’t find another Earthlike world. In fact, he must have found evidence for no planets, or hostile planets… because whoever tried to kill him erased his work from the computer memory so that we’d never know what he’d found.”

  Larry pointed toward Dan and shouted out, “Or he might have found a new Earth somewhere, much better for us than the Centaurian planet, and his would-be murderer tried to keep us from finding that out!”

  They glared at each other from opposite ends of the table, wordless for a moment.

  “This is getting us nowhere,” Adrienne Kaufman said.

  Larry took a deep, calming breath. “The truth of the matter is that there’s no evidence of murder, not of anyone at any time. All the deaths and near-deaths that we’ve had can be attributed to accidental causes. And anyone,” he stared right at Dan, “who insists on finding foul play behind every accident on this ship is running the risk of being thought insane.”

  Dan stood there, shaking with rage, face flaming. Then he spun around and stamped out of the Council room.

  Larry turned to the chief meditech, who was sitting halfway down the table.

  “I want him in the infirmary immediately. And I want him checked out even if you have to strap him down. We can’t have a madman running loose aboard this ship!”

  Because if he is insane, Larry said to himself, maybe he is a murderer!

  (8)

  The cryonics room felt like gray November to Larry.

  He had never known Earthly seasons, except through poetry and the videotapes he had watched during his school years. But here in the stark, cold, silent area where the frozen members of the ship’s people slept away the years, he shivered with the incipient chill of winter.

  The cryonics sections took up two full levels of the ship. The big compartments, called bays, were filled with row after row of massive covered couches, like the granite sarcophagi of ancient Egyptian pharaohs. But these coffins were for the living, not the dead; and they were made of stainless steel and plastic and honeycombed with tubes that carried liquid helium at 4.2 degrees above absolute zero. Instead of elaborate carved heiroglyphics, the cryogenic couches bore dials and gauges, automatic read-out viewers that showed the condition of the sleeper inside. Alive. Frozen, unmoving, unbreathing, silent and still for year after year. But alive.

  Larry had never been frozen. The prospect bothered him somehow. It was too much like death.

  The entire cryonics bay was like death, like winter; cold, lonely, silent. His breath hung in misty clouds before his face, and he felt chilled to the marrow despite the electric jacket he wore over his coveralls. The glareless lights overhead made everything look even flatter, grayer. The softly padded flooring muffled even the sounds of his footsteps.

  Dr. Hsai was already there, Larry saw. The oriental psychotech was waiting for him, several rows up ahead. Larry quickened his pace.

  “This is a strange place for a meeting,” Dr. Hsai said as Larry came up to him. He seemed more curious than upset.

  “I wanted to talk with you privately,” Larry explained. “This is one of the few places aboard ship where we can be sure of no interruptions or eavesdroppers.”

  The psychotech’s thin eyebrows arched upward, “Ahh…just what was it that you wanted to discuss?” If he felt cold, Hsai wasn’t showing it.

  “I understand that you want to release Dan Christopher.”

  Hsai bobbed his head once. “There is no excuse for keeping him in the infirmary. He has been there for almost a month now. I have seen him every day. There is no evidence of mental abnormality—nor should we expect to find any, under these circumstances.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mr. Christopher is not suffering from a physically caused abnormality. He is not schizoid, which is the result of molecular imbalances in the nervous system. Nor does he have any brain lesions, nor any other physically connected disease.”

  “But…”

  Dr. Hsai raised a slim, long-fingered hand. “Please. Allow me to continue. His problems are strictly emotional. Under the controlled conditions of the infirmary, this type of problem doesn’t come to the surface.”

  Larry felt himself frowning. “But you can probe his mind … analyze what he’s saying and thinking… his dreams and tests…”

  “Alas,” said Dr. Hsai, “I am only a psychotechnician, not a psychiatrist. Our only psychiatrist died in the epidemic a few years ago, you recall; the other two are here, in cryosleep.”

  “But can’t you tell…”

  “I can tell you that there is no physical reason for abnormal behavior in Mr. Christopher’s case. His behavior in the infirmary was, at first, very hostile and suspicious. He was angry at being… as he put it, ‘arrested and jailed.’ But he adjusted to the situation within a week or so, and has been behaving very calmly ever since.”

  Larry muttered, “And there haven’t been any accidents during the past month, either.”

  ..Dr. Hsai shrugged. “Either there is nothing wrong with him at all, or…”

  “Or?”

  “Or he is clever enough to hide his emotions from me, and he’s waiting until he’s released to work out his hostilities.”

  “Can someone be… well, can he act normal and still be…”

  “Neurotic? Psychotic? Insane?” Dr. Hsai smiled sadly. “Oh, yes. The paranoids, in particular, can behave very normally… until they’re placed in a certain stress situation. Then their psychosis shows up.”

  Larry shuddered, only partly from the cold. “What can we do?”

  “It’s doing no good to keep him in the infirmary. Frankly, he has every right to be released and resume his duties.”

  “But if we do, we run the risk of his going amok … causing more ‘accidents.’”

  Softly, Dr. Hsai said, “My own opinion is that there’s nothing wrong with the young man, except anger and frustration. He feels the loss of his father very deeply; but even more deeply, he feels the loss of his expected position as Chairman and the loss of his chosen girl.”

  “In other words, he’s sore as hell at me.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And he’ll do whatever he can to get Valery back, and get himself elected Chairman.”

  “Yes.”

  Larry took a deep, cold breath. Looking straight into the psychotech’s dark, calm eyes, he asked, “Do you think he’s capable of committing violent acts? Like murder?”

  Hsai shook his head. “Under the proper circumstances, anyone is capable of murder. Even you and I.”

  That’s a big help, Larry complained to himself.

  “He should be released,” Dr. Hsai repeated. “You can have him watched as carefully as you wish, but there is no good to be accomplished by keeping him in the infirmary.”

  “All right,” Larry agreed unhappily. “Let him go.” . Hsai nodded and started walking away, toward the nearest hatch leading back to the warmth of life. He glanced over his shoulder once, looking slightly puzzled that Larry wasn’t coming with him, or at least following him.

  But Larry stood rooted to the spot, beside one of the bulky cryosleep couches.

  Dan wants Valery, and he wants to be Chairman.

  “You knew that,” he s
aid softly to himself. “That’s nothing new.”

  Yes, his mind echoed back. But if he is insane, if he has done all these crazy things—including murder—then it’s because of me. The blame is partly mine. Maybe almost entirely mine. Especially if he’s insane. Then he’s not responsible for his actions. But I am. I am!

  “All right, so it’s at least partially your own fault. What can you do about it now?”

  He wanted to answer, Nothing. But instead he knew. You can give him what he wants. Let him have the Chairmanship. Let him have Valery.

  “You know you can’t do that. Not if you want to stay sane. Not if you want to go on living.”

  You can sleep. Right here. Sleep for as long as you want to. Sleep until they’re both dead. Then start a new life.

  “Sure. Or maybe never wake up.”

  It’s your choice.

  With a sudden shock, Larry realized he was standing in front of Dr. Loring’s cryosleep unit. The graphs showed that the old man was still alive, waiting in frozen limbo fora surgical team to be organized for the attempt to save his life.

  Give up the Chairmanship? Give up Valery?

  “No.”

  Then you’ll be pushing Dan even further. He might do something even worse.

  Larry was sweating now. Despite the cold, beads of sweat were trickling down his face. “I can’t do it!” he whispered fiercely. “I won’t let him have his way! I won’t!”

  It was always noisy in the main cafeteria. Big enough to handle three hundred people at a sitting, the cafeteria doubled as an eating place, an entertainment center, and an auditorium. It was brightly lit, gaily decorated, and bustling with crowds nearly all the time. One entire wall was a long viewscreen that showed constantly changing scenes from Earth, from outside in starry space, or from inside the ship itself.

  At the moment Dan entered the cafeteria’s big double doors and stood blinking in the entryway, the long wall screen was showing an ocean beach on Earth: surging powerful breakers

  rolling up to smash against grim rocks in spectacular sheets of spray. The sky was blue, the sun a golden ball starting to turn red as it neared the horizon. People dotted the tiny slice of beach that lay between the rocks. Farther back, atop the higher rocky cliffs, there were houses.

  Dan stood at the entryway and took it all in: the videotaped scene, the noise and brightness of the cafeteria. After a month in the quiet confinement of the infirmary,- it was like coming to life again after being in cryosleep.

  People jostled through the entryway past him. Several of them smiled at him, or said some brief words of greeting:

  “Good to see you back, Dan.”

  “Hi, Dan.”

  “Hey, pal, how’re ya doin?”

  “Can’t keep a good man down, huh, Dan?”

  He grinned at them, nodded, even shook a few hands.

  Then he saw her far across the room, sitting by herself, looking tense. She had a tray of food before her, but she wasn’t touching it; Valery was merely looking off into space, waiting.

  Dan quickly made his way to the selector wall, punched buttons for the food he wanted, and went to the receiving slot. All the while he kept one eye on Valery’s golden hair. He took his steaming tray straight to her table.

  “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting,” he said.

  She looked up, wide-eyed, almost startled. “Oh—no, I just got here a few minutes ago.”

  He sat down on the other side of the little table. “It was good of you to agree to meet me.”

  She seemed wary, almost afraid. “This is a funny place to meet… I mean, it’s so noisy.”

  A group of half a dozen teenagers appeared on the stage at the other end of the room and started setting up electronic musical instruments.

  Dan grinned. “It’s alive. I like it. Kind of hard on the ears, but it’s fun.”

  “You…you look very good,” Valery said.

  “You’re scared of me,” he realized. “Why? Do you think I’m crazy, too?”

  “Who…”

  He took her hand in his. “Come on, Val. I know what Larry

  thinks. I know he’s the one who kept me locked up for the past month.”

  Pulling slowly away from his grip, she answered, “Dan, I don’t want you and Larry to be enemies. You ought to be friends again___”

  “I wish we could. I really do. I think I’d even let him keep the Chairmanship, if only I could be sure …”

  He shook his head. “It’d never work. You’re the one I want, Val. If I had you, I’d almost be willing to let the rest of it go.”

  “The rest of it?”

  “Yep… I had a lot of time to think, you know, sitting there in the infirmary. A lot of time. I understand there haven’t been any accidents since I went in.”

  She hesitated, then admitted, “That’s right.”

  “You see? He’s been damned smart about it… damned smart.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s trying to make it look like it’s all my fault. Larry’s got half the people on this ship believing that I’m crazy, that I’ve been causing the accidents, that I tried to kill your father.”

  She stared at him. “Did you?”

  He looked back into her Arctic-blue eyes, sensing all the turmoil, the fear, the pain that lay behind them.

  “Have you asked Larry that question?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean, Valery.”

  “But why?” she asked, so softly that he could barely hear her voice over the cafeteria din. “Why would Larry do it?”

  “Have you ever thought,” Dan asked slowly, “that if there really is a madman aboard this ship, it’s got to be Larry?”

  “No! It couldn’t be!”

  “Couldn’t it?”

  “Dan—you’re wrong. The accidents… they could be just that: accidents.”’

  “Then why is Larry trying to prove that I’m insane?”

  “He’s afraid…”

  “Afraid of me.”

  The words were gushing out of her now. “Larry’s afraid that if you are sick, you’ll hurt more people, hurt the ship, kill us all.”

  “That’s just what he’s doing.”

  “No…”

  Dan could feel his temper rising, his face getting hot and red. “He’s afraid of me because he knows that I know I didn’t cause any of those accidents. He knows that I can’t rest until I show everyone who did cause the accidents—that killed my father and nearly killed yours. That’s what he’s afraid of!”

  Valery’s voice was pleading, “Dan, listen to me. Believe in me. If you keep going this way, one of you—or both of you—are going to be killed! Stop it now. Let it stop.”

  He shook his head solemnly. “I can’t, Val.”

  “Even if it means my sanity? My life? I can’t stand by and see the two of you tear each other apart.”

  “There’s nothing else…”

  “Suppose,” she said shakily, tears in her voice, “suppose I tell Larry that I’ve changed my mind… that I want to marry you. Will you stop then?”

  He felt suddenly as if he were in the zero gravity hub of the ship, in free fall, dropping, dropping endlessly, spinning over and over again, dizzyingly–-He squeezed his eyes shut. Stop it! Stop it stop it stop it.

  Looking at her again, so intent, so beautiful, so afraid and lonely, he said, “Val… I don’t want you as a bribe. It wouldn’t work that way. We’d end up hating each other. I… no, it’s got to be Larry or me. We’ve got to settle this between ourselves.”

  “You’ll kill each other,” she said, all the energy drained from her voice.

  “Maybe.”

  “You’ll destroy the ship.”

  “That’s what I want to prevent.”

  “You—the two of you—you’re going to destroy me.”

  And she abruptly got up from the table and ran out of the cafeteria, leaving him sitting there alone.

  (9)

  Fo
r more than a month, the four gleaming torpedo shapes of the ship’s automated probes had coasted silently through space, toward the major planet of the Alpha Centauri system. The only link between the probes and the ship was a continuous radio signal, of the lowest possible power, in order to conserve the energy of their batteries.

  Then, as they neared the two main stars of Alpha Centauri, the solar cells along their outer skins began to convert sunlight into electricity. The radio signals gained in strength. Like sleeping servants, one by one the instruments aboard the probes awakened with the new flow of electrical power and began reporting back to the ship. But now the reports—full and complex—were carried by laser beams.

  Some of the instruments took precise measurements of the probes’ positions in space, and their courses as they approached the major planet. This information was studied by men and computer aboard the ship, and minor course corrections were transmitted back to the probes. The probes responded with the correct changes in course, and the men and women aboard the ship congratulated themselves. The computer accepted no congratulations, but took in all data impassively.

  The probes successfully skirted past the steep gravity pull of Alpha Centauri B, the smaller orange member of the two main stars, and let the pull of Alpha Centauri A—the yellow, sunlike star—bring them close to the major planet. Then, more course corrections, more microscopic puffs of gas from the tiny attitude jets aboard the probes’ bodies, and they fell into orbit around the planet.

  Back on the ship, people celebrated.

  Now streams of data began pouring across the near-emptiness of space between the probes and the approaching ship. The data were coded, of course, in the languages that the engineers and computers could translate into meaningful information. Pictures were sent, too, directly over the laser beams that linked the probes with the ship.

  Two of the probes released landing capsules. One never made it to the surface, or at least never sent any information back after entering the planet’s high atmosphere. The other touched down on solid ground and began sending pictures and data from the surface of the new world.