Silent Running

by Harlan Thompson

  “It would be a way . . . out,” he managed.

  He sat on . . . But the beauty of the forest still clung to Lowell’s mind and along with it, the precious, dedicated words hanging over his bed that read:

  CONSERVATIONISTS’ PLEDGE

  I GIVE MY PLEDGE AS AN AMERICAN TO SAVE AND FAITHFULLY DEFEND FROM WASTE THE NATURAL RESOURCES OF MY COUNTRY—ITS SOIL, ITS FORESTS, WATERS, AND WILDLIFE.

  SIX

  Suddenly, with a long look at Saturn’s rings that loomed so close, Lowell rose from his chair.

  “We’ll see,” he said, his voice echoing in the deathly silence. “We’ll see about navigating those babies.”

  He hobbled to the corridor, went to his room and began strapping down his botanical equipment. At length he made it into the kitchen where he strapped down the utensils. At last he reached the hold of Valley Forge to check the tie-downs of the cargo nodules. Saturn’s colored rings seemed to lie right there beyond the hull.

  “My forest, Dome One,” Lowell murmured and swung toward the tunnel that led to it. Once there, he began stringing guide wires to the trees.

  Time seemed to race by.

  Now, with the closer approach of Valley Forge to Saturn, Lowell could discern discrete particles of Saturn’s rings beginning to slam into the more distant parts of the structure.

  He became aware of the three drones waddling hastily toward the hatchway, making clicking sounds as they went.

  From the control room red warning lights began to flash. Alarms buzzed and shrieked. Lowell turned to grapple his way toward the control room.

  The heaving ship flung him against the tunnel wall. He staggered and fell, clutching his thigh in pain, then pulled himself up and through the doorway to Main Control.

  He passed the Drone Control console and realized that the drones were outside. He gaped at the screen.

  The drones fought to get to the hatchway. But Number Three lagged behind. Lowell yelled into the mike, “Number Three, keep moving!”

  Following a close-up of the drones on the screen Lowell saw that drones One and Two were already descending into the hatchway. But the image of Number Three began to flutter and run as the drone got buffeted.

  “Keep moving!” Lowell screamed. “Follow One and Two!”

  Lowell saw Drone Three cling desperately to the ship. Iridescent plasma and frozen gas of the rings ripped at the Drone, scraping it, pushing in and tearing at his metal body. Finally the drone could hold on no longer. Lowell watched it slip away into the rainbow of color, and Three’s screen went blank.

  Lowell, faint and in anguish, tried to hang on to the console.

  “Three . . . Thr . . .” he cried out in frustrated anger. “Why didn’t you keep moving?”

  He looked through a window and saw an antenna shear off and tumble away.

  Lowell struggled to the main console and watched the displays in terror. He began to throw switches and punch buttons, trying to fire the engines. But lights began to wink out on the giant display board, and the giant engines began to idle down.

  Lowell kept on trying to get the engines to fire, but it was futile. He could just watch the screen and hang on against the surging of the ship. Finally, the only sounds left were the howling of the plasma rings and the creaking of the ship.

  Suddenly the shaking stopped and the howling tailed off, leaving the ship in total silence. Lowell slowly sat back in a chair and breathed a long sigh of relief.

  Looking at the screen’s picture of the ship’s bow he saw a sea of stars. Off at an angle he made out Saturn, suddenly smaller now, and receding in the distance.

  All at once a giant lassitude crept over Lowell.

  He struggled to his feet, out of the control room, and to his bedroom where he flung himself on his cot.

  SEVEN

  Hours later, Lowell opened his eyes. How long he had slept he didn’t know. His room was a mess—books were strewn about the floor, and some of his lab equipment was shattered and broken. He awakened slowly, trying to remember all that had happened. He saw the two drones, inert in a corner.

  “Drones One and Two,” he said, yawning. The drones turned to face him, idling quietly. “Straighten up in here, will you, please?” Lowell waved a hand around the room.

  The drones began to tidy up. Lowell rose and began washing at the sink. Suddenly he stood, staring at himself in the mirror. For a moment, in stricken silence, he thought of Wolf.

  He turned to the drones, saying, “Drone One . . . Drone Two . . .” They turned to face him, waiting. “Go to . . . Dome One,” Lowell ordered.

  The drones turned to leave, while Lowell made his way out of the bedroom and down a corridor to Drone Control. Taking a seat before the Drone Control panel, he watched the drones approach the dome.

  They finally entered it through the tunnel.

  “Turn right,” Lowell ordered, leaning close to the microphone.

  The TV images of the drones panned to the right, and suddenly, shockingly, Wolf’s body came into view.

  Lowell stared transfixed for a moment, then passing a hand across his eyes, said, “Drone One . . . Drone Two . . . take the dead man deeper into the forest. Dig a hole six feet deep, seven feet long, and three feet wide.”

  He turned from the screen, waiting . . . At length, he turned back to watch the two drones dig a grave with their odd-looking pneumatic claws. At last the hole was ready, and Wolf’s body lay nearby, contorted, dead.

  Lowell sat motionless, held almost entranced by the strange TV image. Everything seemed so unreal, grotesque, as though it were all a horrible dream.

  At last he roused from his lethargy. “Now put him . . . in the grave,” he ordered.

  He sat watching the drones maneuver Wolf’s body into the grave. Wolf’s hat fell off, strangely unnoticed. Lowell stared at the drones placing Wolf in the ground.

  “And now, remain there,” Lowell went on, softly. “Because I would like to say something . . . before you cover him over.”

  Questions pounded at him. “How could I have killed Wolf—a good kid? How could I?” He stared on into the screen.

  The answer lay right there, just beyond the grave: his forest. Not his, really. Lowell shook his head: America’s forest that he, and he alone, had saved. But at what a price. Lowell gave a deep sigh.

  “Aah,” he managed, “I . . . would like to be able to say a . . . prayer,” he stumbled out. “But I . . . don’t really know . . . how to say it. Wolf and Barker and Keenan, they weren’t exactly my friends.” His voice trembled. “But, I did like them. And . . . I don’t think,” he went on, his voice breaking, “that I’ll ever be able to excuse what it is that I did. But I had to do it. And . . .” Lowell fought for control, “I guess that’s all that I have to say.”

  Lowell was silent for a moment, then added in a choking voice, “You can cover him over . . . now.”

  He sat at the console, and again there came that dirgelike drumbeat through his consciousness.

  At length he rose to begin cleaning up the control room. After a few minutes he came out of Main Control, carrying some papers and trash. He noticed Barker’s nameplate on a door and ripped it off, then methodically ripped the plates from Keenan’s and Wolf’s doors as well.

  “Okay,” he said, and gathered them up with the rest of his trash to head for a refuse module.

  From there he walked back to the main console and sat down to begin checking dials. Finally satisfied, he swiveled around to see the two drones silently looking on.

  “I am Captain now,” he declared. Lowell studied them thoughtfully, for they had registered nothing. They had just stood there, idling quietly.

  “Drone One,” Lowell went on, “you will answer to the name of Huey . . . Drone Two, you will answer to the name of Dewey.”

  Lowell smiled at them gently and understanding while an expression of sadness crossed his face. “Louie,” he went on, “God bless him, is no longer with us.”

  The two drones uttered little bleeps
from their shutters.

  Lowell continued, “Huey, step forward.” The drone obeyed. “Good. Dewey, step forward, also . . .” Dewey obeyed.

  “Excellent,” Lowell applauded. “Now, I’ve reprogramed you both so that you’ll answer directly to me. I don’t think you’ll have any difficulty making the necessary adjustments. You’ll maintain the ship as usual, but you’ll also spend more time with me in the forest . . . We’ve had a rough journey, and I suspect we’ll have our work cut out for us.”

  The drones continued to stand before Lowell, their engines idling, then waddled back to Drone Control room.

  Lowell swung around to the console getting instrument readouts on the various functions of the ship’s engines. Indicator lamps for power pods one and four indicated a malfunction in the system. Lowell snapped on the drones’ intercom and addressed the drones: “Huey . . . Dewey . . . proceed to power pods one and four. Repeat: proceed to power pods one and four.”

  Lowell checked the drones as they waddled into the cargo hold. Through the monitor screen he watched them methodically run a maintenance check, whirring and clicking intensely. Lowell jotted it all down in painstaking detail.

  At length they completed their task. Their manipulator arms retracted and they stood still.

  Lowell continued to monitor the data. But suddenly the flow of information stopped. The lights went out and Lowell leaned back in his chair. A fleeting smile of affection crossed his face and he shook his head wonderingly.

  He said into the microphone, “Drone One . . . Drone Two . . . proceed with repairs on the ship.”

  But the drones did not move; it seemed they were waiting.

  More readouts flashed on the console, and Lowell bent to them. All at once, they stopped.

  Lowell said into the mike, “Thank you, men,” then went on: “Since we’re so severely crippled, for all practical purposes, we’re stranded out here in space. So we may as well make our adjustments accordingly . . . Huey, Dewey . . . I’m going to sleep for awhile. I want you to go to the forest and begin any necessary repair work there.”

  Lowell watched the drones move along the hull of the ship, heading for the dome, then turned toward his quarters.

  Once inside his room, he walked to a bookshelf and picked out Loren Eiseley’s “The Immense Journey” and flopped on his bed.

  The silence was absolute except for the slight sigh of the air vents. In the quiet, Lowell pondered: What would be the outcome of his own journey? Where and when would it end?

  He opened the book and began to read: “It is when all these voices cease and the waters are still, when along the frozen rivers nothing cries, screams, or howls, that the enormous mindlessness of space settles down upon the soul . . .”

  Lowell put down the book with a slight shiver. “When along frozen rivers nothing cries,” he murmured, adding, “When on earth no trees wave their branches, no flowers bloom, what then . . . ?”

  Lowell did not know. He only felt that Dome One must be saved. Restlessly, he moved out of the door, drawn by his beloved forest.

  Once there, he threw off his clothes and plunged into the deep mind-healing water. Sounds of the forest surrounded him—the birds’ singing, the wind’s sighing through the trees. A good feeling pervaded Lowell, like a new day dawning. He dived deep, came up, then dived again.

  Nearby, Huey and Dewey performed their maintenance tasks while the Valley Forge, like a wounded animal, plunged on and on.

  Lowell soaped himself and rinsed by ducking under the waterfall, then rose to wrap himself in a towel. He stepped from the pond to walk toward the drones, smiling broadly.

  “Hello, Huey . . . Hello, Dewey,” he said. “Why don’t you check the hull of the ship and see how we’re doing?”

  The drones stopped their work, retracted their manipulator arms, and entered the tunnel.

  Lowell began to work in the garden. He bent to examine a flowering plant and then spaded up around it. He fed some of the small animals. At length he moved down to his laboratory to work with his seeds and chemicals, and microscope. He hummed happily.

  When he finished his work in the dome, Lowell returned to the ship where he cleaned up the surgery, putting things away, scrubbing and polishing. He went on to rearrange his furniture, then dust and restack his books.

  Finally, he went to bed but not to sleep.

  Sitting up in bed he reached for his sewing kit and began sewing a Saturn patch on his royal-blue uniform. Soft music, the sound of a Debussy prelude, came to an end. Lowell paused, listening, then went on sewing.

  He heard the squeaking of a drone’s feet as it walked past his door.

  It moved on, followed by the other drone.

  Lowell imagined them in their darkly lit room methodically checking each other over, making adjustments, whirring and clicking . . . a bit like two chimps cleaning each other.

  At last Lowell turned on his side and slept.

  The giant ship swept on . . . and on . . .

  EIGHT

  The next morning found Lowell limping among the giant cargo modules, taking inventory on a slate. He had to keep busy, to keep himself from getting bored, from thinking about the past or the future, to keep himself in the present.

  Suddenly he had an idea. “Sure,” he said. “That’s it.” He turned and made his way as fast as he could to Main Control.

  “Huey, Dewey, please report to Dome One at once,” he ordered.

  Pleased with himself, he went down to the cargo hold and got a car, then loaded it up with mulch, some tools, and a tree from one of the nursery modules.

  In five minutes, anticipating the work ahead, he drove through the tunnel and out into Dome One.

  The two little drones stood on the latticed walk, waiting.

  “Oh, so you’re already here. Well—” Lowell climbed from and unloaded the car, then led the way to a small grass plot beside the pool. “Okay, boys,” he said, heartily. “Today, the three of us are going to plant a tree.”

  The drones made little bleeping noises and followed Lowell to the site.

  Birds sang from the trees, squirrels ran across the grass, and from a tall spruce a crow scolded raucously.

  “Now, boys.” Lowell put the little pine on the grass. “We’ll place it right here. Huey, you’ll plant the tree. Dewey, you’ll dig the hole.”

  Lowell stood back.

  Dewey came forward and with his manipulator arm began to dig the hole.

  Lowell felt wonderful. He stared at Dewey, checking him, then up through the bronze-latticed dome that enclosed the forest.

  At length, Dewey stepped back. Huey spilled some mulch in the hole, at Lowell’s direction.

  “Aah!” Lowell exclaimed. “Splendid, Dewey. Huey!” He stopped to pick up the pine from the grass. “Now, Huey, you plant the tree.” He placed the tree in Huey’s manipulator arm and stepped back.

  Huey moved a step forward and extended his arm. The tree tumbled to the ground and lay on its side.

  Lowell swung to him in distress. “This is pitiful,” he exclaimed. “The exact opposite of what it’s supposed to be.”

  Lowell stood for a moment, then turned to the drones. “Why don’t you just go ahead with your regular maintenance,” he said. “Just do the work that you know.” The drones moved away on padded squeaky feet.

  Lowell planted the little pine, then walked back to the service car. There lay two sacks of mulch. Lowell carried the bags over to the grass and began flinging the mulch into a bed of ferns and among some rose bushes.

  With this done, he walked back to the car and, climbing behind the wheel, headed into the tunnel.

  Suddenly on impulse, Lowell accelerated the car wildly and zipped into the cargo hold and round the giant room as Keenan and Barker had done.

  He yelled and swayed the little car, driving crazily around the hold. At length, slightly ashamed of himself, Lowell parked the car and walked back to his room.

  Flinging himself on his cot, he lay staring up at the c
eiling. Time passed.

  The giant Valley Forge plunged on with its one bronze-latticed dome riding high on the prow.

  Lowell picked up a book, a novel, and started to read. The words swam before his eyes. He flung the book down and made his way back to the forest.

  There, he paused before a good-sized telescope on a pedestal and pulled off its plastic cover. Glancing up at the dome-turns he spotted a dot in the sky.

  He turned the telescope and adjusted its angle with the knobs, then leaned over to look through the eyepiece.

  Millions of stars were streaking through his field of view. He moved the telescope around and finally brought it to focus upon a small, bluish dot.

  Lowell pushed a control to center Earth in the alignment reticule; he doubled, then quadrupled the magnification. Some details could be made out on the Earth’s surface as Lowell stood rubbing his eyes.

  After a time, Lowell tired of this. Picking an apricot from a tree, he began eating it while strolling from the forest. Time still crawled.

  At length, he went back to the ship where he entered Main Control and sat down at the console, still munching his fruit. He looked at the console for a long moment, then turned on the radio to listen. He heard nothing but distant static. Leaving the radio on, he drifted out of Main Control to the recreation room.

  He began to play billiards on the versatron, missing some very easy shots. He continued to play, setting up more difficult combination shots on the elliptical table. He was killing time.

  At length he moved to the kitchen to wash some fresh lettuce and prepare a huge salad for himself. From out of the window myriads of stars met his gaze.

  Nearby the two drones worked as usual, with Huey taking the lead. But to Lowell everything seemed lifeless and dull. Even the stars held no magic, and the hull of the ship seemed to Lowell to have aged greatly in its journey through the rings.

  He sat at the table with his salad. But he only picked at it.

  Getting up, he walked to his room where he lay down on his bed and closed his eyes.