by Ben Bova
His earphones buzzed. “Mr. Chairman?”
“Here.”
“Just a moment, sir…”
Then Valery’s voice said, “Larry? I think Dr. Hsai might have come up with something.”
“What?”
“Wait… I’ll put him on.”
Larry kept plodding on, kept his eyes searching.
“Mr. Chairman,” the psychotech said formally.
“Doctor,” Larry responded automatically.
“I’ve been reviewing my records of Dan Christopher’s case.”
“And?”
“I believe I may have found something significant.”
Larry fumed inside his helmet. “Well, what is it?”
But there was no hurrying Hsai. “Do you recall when Mr. Christopher was first placed under my care…just after his father died?”
“Yes. Go on.”
“He was treated for a few days and then released. I tried to maintain contact with him, to follow up his case.”
“I know. We put him under observation for a month.” And you found nothing, Larry added mentally.
“Yes. Exactly so. But before then—just after he was released from the infirmary for the first time, I asked him several times to check in with me for follow-up tests. He refused.”
“So?”
Dr. Hsai’s voice continued smoothly, with just the barest hint of excitement. “At one point, he warned me that his job was too important to be interfered with.”
“Warned you?”
“I have his exact words here… listen…”
Larry stopped moving and hung frozen on the skin of the tube. The ship’s vast turning motion swung him majestically around, like a lone rider on an ancient merry-go-round. Then he j
heard Dan’s voice, which startled him for a moment, until he realized it was one of Dr. Hsai’s tapes:
“Our reactors are feeding the ship’s main rocket engines,”
Dan was saying hotly, “on a very, very carefully programmed schedule. This ship can’t take more than a tiny thrust loading—we’re simply not built to stand high thrust, it’d tear us apart…”
“Everyone knows this.” Hsai’s voice.
Dan answered, “Uh-huh. This is a very delicate part of the mission. A slight miscalculation or a tiny flaw in the reactors could destroy this ship and kill everyone.”
Click.
“Do you understand what he was trying to tell me?” Dr. Hsai asked.
Larry blinked puzzledly. “Frankly, no. What.he was saying was perfectly true.”
“Of course But underneath the obvious truth, he was threatening to destroy the ship and everyone in it if he didn’t get his way “
“What?”
“I believe that is what is in his mind,” Hsai went on “Of course, I am no psychiatrist, but I think such an action of self-destruction would be be consistent with Christopher’s behavior pattern “
Larry instantly blurted, “The reactors!”
Val’s voice came on “Larry, do you think he’d do it”
“We can’t run the risk of not thinking it Val, get the power crew on the phone and have them abandon level seven Everybody out except a skeleton crew, and I want them in pressure suits Quick!”
“Right”
Larry fumbled with the radio switches on his belt.
“Mort, this is Larry” Do I have the right frequency?
“You find something?”
“No I just got a call from inside Hsai thinks Dan might try to blow the reactors”
“Holy”
“I’m jetting up there You keep the search going, just to make sure I’m not on a wild-goose chase “
“Okay “
Larry pushed off the tube wall and touched the microjet controls He felt tiny hands grab him around the waist and push him up toward the ship’s hub The rings of the ship passed beneath him three, four, five, six.
There was a flash and a puff of what looked like steam, up ahead at level seven Something cartwheeled up, a jagged shard of metal Larry steered in that direction.
Level seven’s only viewport had been blown apart. The lights inside were gone Larry grabbed the jagged rim of the exploded port and hauled himself in through the hole.
If I turn on my helmet lamp I’ll be a certain target.
Something heavy and metallic slammed thunderously in the distance and a gust of wind tore past Larry, cracking like a miniature thunderclap.
Safety hatch! He’s opened the safety hatch between the offices and tne reactor area.
Larry reached to his belt with both hands, turned on his helmet lamp, and pulled the laser pistol from its holster.
The office was a shambles When the viewport blew open, air pressure inside the office gusted violently out into space, bowling over everything in its path Chairs were overturned, desk fittings broken and scattered over the floor Any papers that had been around were blown outside but no bodies Valery’s warning must have reached the technicians just in time.
Larry hefted the pistol in his right hand and took a deep breath The suit air suddenly tasted good He moved toward the safety hatch that connected the office with the reactor area In the low gravity of level seven, it was easy to move around, even inside the cumbersome suit But still Larry moved slowly, cautiously He was only moments behind Dan Maybe he could surprise him.
The safety hatch was open, and the reactor area was deep in darkness For a moment, Larry thought about switching off his helmet lamp. But he couldn’t. Be blind without it.
He edged toward the hatch It opened, he knew, onto a metal catwalk that hung above the two main working reactors and the mam electrical power generator.
He stepped out onto the catwalk, then immediately flicked off his lamp.
Down below, kneeling by the power generator in a pool of light from his own helmt lamp, was Dan He had a laser pistol in his hand, and he was burning it at full intensity on some of the exposed wiring of the generator Smoke and sparks were sputtering from the generator’s innard. With barely a thought about what he was doing, Larry clambered over the catwalk’s flimsy railing and launched himself at Dan It was like a dream, a nightmare He floated through the twenty meters separating them like a cloud drifting across the sky Larry raised his right hand and threw his pistol as hard as he could at Dan It banged into Dan’s hand, knocking his own laser skittering across the floor There was no sound.
Dan turned toward him, his lamp suddenly glaring straight into Larry’s eyes Then they collided, hitting with a bone-jarring impact that carried the two of them up and over the generator and into a confused tangle of arms and legs onto the narrow floor space between the generator and one of the reactors.
It was like two robots grappling. In the low gravity, every strenuous move was overly done, and they fought clumsily, swinging, bouncing, rolling across the floor and flailing at each other. Noiselessly, except for the bone-carried shock of impact and the grunts that each man made inside his suit.
Larry’s head was banged around inside his helmet a dozen times. His ears rang and he tasted blood in his mouth. Sweat was trickling stingingly into his eyes.
Dan was reaching up over Larry’s shoulder, trying to grab his airline. Larry knocked his arm away and pushed Dan back against the smooth metal wall of the reactor. Dan bounced off, doubled over, and sliced Larry’s legs, knocking him sprawling.
Feeling like a turtle on its back, Larry tried to scramble up again, but Dan was on top of him. Through the metal-to-metal contact of the suits, he could hear Dan faintly yelling something; it was unintelligible.
Dan had him by the shoulders now and was banging his head and torso against the metal floor plates. Each slam jarred Larry, blurred his vision. Either his suit was going to crack open or his head would; it didn’t matter which one happened first.
He grappled his arms around Dan’s torso, trying to hold on and prevent Dan from slamming him. But Dan just rode up and down on top of him, adding his own body’s mass to the process of blud
geoning Larry to death.
Larry’s hands grasped frantically and closed on a slim piece of tubing. Airline! His first instinct was to rip it loose, but instead Larry simply squeezed on it, grabbed it hard and hung on.
In a few moments Dan stopped the pounding. He tried to reach Larry’s arm, but Larry was wrapped too closely to him for that. Dan rolled over onto his back, but Larry hung on. Squeezing, squeezing the airline, keeping fresh oxygen from Dan’s lungs, letting him suffocate on his own carbon dioxide.
Dan went limp.
Larry hung on for a few seconds longer, then let go. He himself sagged, barely conscious, on top of Dan’s inert form. No. Can’t…pass out. He’ll be coming around… as soon as fresh air… gets into his suit.
Dazed, bloody, Larry got to his knees. He knew he couldn’t
stand up. He flicked on the helmet lamp and turned to look for the lasers. Dan’s legs started to move feebly. Larry crawled on all fours, found one of the little pistols on the floor, and took it in his hands. He flopped into a sitting position, leaning his back against the generator, and pointed the pistol at Dan. With his free hand he worked the suit’s radio switch.
“I’ve got him,” he said weakly. “Reactor area.”
(17)
The Council members all looked happy enough, but Larry felt nothing but numbness inside himself.
Even Valery looked pleased. She had just shown all her data tapes about the Epsilon Indi planet. It looked as much like Earth, from this distance, as Earth itself did.
“I would like to suggest,” Dr. Polanyi said, beaming across the table at her, “that Miss Loring be accepted as a member of the Council pro tern—tor as long as her father is unable to attend our meetings.”
There was a general nodding of heads and approving murmurs.
“Any dissenting voices?” Larry asked.
None.
“Then it’s done.”
There was only one empty seat at the table: Dan’s. Larry glanced at it, his mouth tightening with bitterness.
Adrienne Kaufman cleared her throat. “What about the data we’ve just seen? Should we consider heading for this new planet? If not, we have a huge task of genetic work ahead of us.”
Larry glanced around the table. None of the Council members seemed willing to speak before he did.
“Actually,” he smiled at last, “I don’t see any reason to rush into such a decision. We’re going to be here in orbit for many months, refurbishing the ship. Let’s spend that time gathering more data about this neyv planet.”
Valery said, “If we could build a bigger telescope, or improve the sensitivity of the instruments we have…”
“That could be done,” Polanyi said quickly.
“Epsilon Indi is about the same distance from us as Alpha Centauri is from Earth,” Larry said. “If we decide to go there, it will take another half-century.”
“None of us will be awake for much of that trip,” Polanyi said.
“If we decide to go,” Adrienne Kaufman put in.
“Oh, I think we will,” said the old engineer. “It looks too good to ignore.”
The meeting broke up shortly after that. Valery got up from her chair and went toward Larry.
“They’re putting Dan into cryosleep today. Dr. Tomasosays he can work on Dan’s neural patterns much more easily when the nerve impulses are slowed down by the low temperature.”
“I know,” Larry said.
“He might be under cryosleep for years and years,” she said.
He thought he knew what was bothering him, but he was afraid to mention it. Afraid she might tell him that his fears were correct.
She looked at him curiously. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” Valery almost smiled. “You’re wondering if I want to go into cryosleep too, and be awakened when Dan’s cured.”
He reached out and took her hand. “Do you?”
“No,” she said. “Silly. When are you going to believe that you’re the one I want?”
He grinned foolishly. “Any day now.”
They walked together out of the conference room and down a long, curving corridor. They stopped at a viewport and stared silently at the golden planet outside.
“It would’ve been a lovely world—” Larry muttered. “So close… so close…”
“There’s a better one waiting for us,” Val said.
“But if we don’t go into cryosleep,” Larry realized, “we’ll probably never see that new world.”
She smiled up at him. “I know. But someone’s got to keep the ship going, and raise a new generation of children who will see the new world. See it and live on it.”
“Our children,” he said.
“Human children,” Val added. “Beautiful strong human men and worn for the new world.”
“For the new world,” he echoed.
They smiled together and walked off down the corridor, arm in arm.
END OF EXILE
~~~
To Regina, with love and hope for a better tomorrow.
~~~
Book One
(1)
The glass was cold.
Linc rubbed at it with the heel of his hand and felt the coldness of death sucking at his skin. His whole body trembled. It was chill here in the darkness outside the Ghost Place, but it wasn’t the cold that made him shake.
Still he had to decide. Peta’s life hung in the balance. And before he could decide, Linc had to know.
Wiping his freezing hand against the thin leg of his ragged coverall, Linc peered through the misty glass into the Ghost Place.
They were there, just as they’d always been.
More of them than Linc could count. More than the fingers of both hands. Ghosts.
They looked almost like real men and women. But of course no one that old still lived in the Wheel. The adults were all dead—all except Jerlet, who lived far up above the Wheel.
The ghosts were frozen in place, just as they had always been. Most of them were seated at the strange machines that stretched along one long wall of the place. Some of them were on the floor; one was kneeling with its back against the other wall, eyes closed as if in meditation. Most of them had their backs to Linc, but the few faces he could see were twisted in agony and terror. He shuddered as he thought of the first time he had seen them, when he had been barely big enough to scramble atop an old dead servomech’s shoulder and peek through the mist-shrouded window at the horrifying sight beyond.
It doesn’t scare me now, Linc told himself.
But still he could feel cold sweat trickling down his thin ribs; the smell of fear was real and pungent.
The ghosts stayed at their posts, staring blankly at the long curving wall full of .strange machines. The strange buttons and lights; the wall screens above them were just as blank as’ the ghosts’ eyes—most of them. Linc’s heart leaped inside him as he saw a few of the screens still flickering, showing strange shadowy pictures that changed constantly.
Some of the machines still work! he realized.
The ghosts had been people once. Real people, just like Magda or Jerlet or any of the others. But they never moved, never breathed, never relaxed from their agonized frozen stares at the dead and dying machines.
They were real people once. And someday… someday I’ll become a ghost. Like them. Frozen. Dead.
But some of the ancient machines were still working; some of the wall screens still lived. Does that mean that the machines are meant to keep on working? Does it mean that I should try to fix the machine that Peta broke?
His whole body was shaking badly now. It was cold here in the darkness. Linc had to get back to the living section, where there was light and warmth and people. Living people. Maybe it was true that the ghosts walked through the Wheel’s passageways when everyone was asleep. Maybe all the frightening stories that Magda told were true.
It was a long and painful trek back to the living area. Many passagew
ays were blocked off, sealed by heavy metal hatches. Other long sections were too dangerous for a lone traveler. Rats prowled there hungrily.
Linc had to take a tube-tunnel up to the next level, where he felt so much lighter that he could almost glide like one of the bright-colored birds down in the farming section of the Living Wheel. He stretched his legs and covered more paces in one leap than he had fingers on a hand.
Here in the second level it was fun. The corridors were empty and dark. The doors along them closed tight. There were strange markings on each door; Linc couldn’t understand them, but Jerlet had promised long ago to someday show him what they meant.
He was alone and free here, soaring down the corridor, letting his muscles lift his suddenly lightened body for long jumps down the shadowy passageway. He forgot the ghosts, forgot Peta’s trouble, forgot even Jerlet and Magda. There was nothing in his mind except the thrill of almost-flying, and the words of an ancient song. His voice had deepened not long ago, and no longer cracked and squeaked when he tried to sing. He was happily impressed with it as he heard it echoing off the bare corridor walls:
“Weeruffa seethu wizzer Swunnerfool wizzeruv oz___”
Then he sailed past a big observation window and skidded to a stop, nearly falling as he braked his momentum, and turned to look through the broad expanse of plastiglass.
The stars were circling slowly outside, quiet and solemn and unblinking. So many stars! More stars than there were people down in the Living Wheel. More than the birds and insects and pigs and all the other animals down in the farms. More even than the rats. So many.
Was he right about Jerlet’s teachings? It seemed to Linc that some of Jerlet’s words meant that the Living Wheel—and all the other wheels up at the higher levels—were actually part of a huge machine that was whirling around and carrying them from one star to another. Linc shook his head. Jerlet’s words were hard to figure out; and besides, that was Magda’s job, not his.
