by Dale Olausen
Today, however, she had no interest in the weird-looking aliens who constituted a percentage of the clientele. She waited patiently while Matty punched in a request for a table for two on the keyboard of the electronic maitre'd which guarded the entrance. A green light flashed onto the floorplan displayed on the screen; Matty pointed to it, asking for her approval with a glance. She shrugged and nodded, tearing the printed instructions for locating the table from the machine. At a nod from Matty she disposed of it in an adjacent shredder - the two of them were so familiar with the maze-like floorplan that they could easily find the table on their own.
"You're paying?" Sarah rudely inquired once they had sat down to examine the menu-screens. As if they needed the screens after all the times they had eaten at the Central Caf!
Matty laughed and tossed his ident-disc on the table.
"'Course I am," he answered, a satisfied tone creeping into his voice. "I invited you didn't I? I can afford to treat you - I completed a small business transaction quite successfully this afternoon."
Sarah would have dearly loved to have questioned Matty about the "small business transaction". However, she had long ago learned that asking such questions was useless. The lad had his secrets, and chose to keep them. But since he did not hold down any visible job on the Space Station, instead making what appeared a comfortable living by providing small services of all kinds to passing travelers, she suspected that some of his commerce had to do with obtaining some type of forbidden luxuries for the locals. At least this hypothesis might account for his ability to pass through doors that ought to have been closed to him.
Sarah made her selections from the menu and watched idly as the electronic eye read Matty's ident-disc in order to charge the meal to his account. Her mind strayed back to the morning's events, and she suddenly realized that she was shivering in spite of the warmth of the room.
Matty's eyes were on her, concerned.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.
"Yes. A thousand times, yes." But for a moment she did not speak. Her eyes gazed at nothing. Then she roused herself.
"That miserable, filthy creature, that Sector Manager, that Kalso," she began, careful to pitch her angry voice low enough so that the folk on the other side of the nearest screen could not overhear her. "Know him?"
Matty nodded. "A priest of Ammha also responsible for secular duties. You don't like him?"
"Listen to me, Matty. Listen to what he did. "
She launched into a narrative of the morning's events, struggling to keep her voice down and steady. Matty leaned across the table to catch every word, his face losing its joviality as the tale unfolded. By the time she finished, his expression was as grim as hers.
"So there you have it," Sarah concluded, turning to accept their food trays from a servo-robot that had rolled to a stop at their table. They waited for the machine to continue on its way before resuming the conversation.
"Have you given any thought as to what you're going to do about it?" Matty asked as he picked out the self-heat packages containing his order from the trays.
"Do? About it? What can I do about it? He's the one in charge and I'm just a lowly worker. As it is he's going to blacken my name with the Central Employment Service by citing me for insubordination!"
"Sarah, relax. Try to think clearly. If what you say is true, the man's a criminal. Besides, if he tried that trick on you, don't you think it likely that he's done it before? To someone who didn't have the courage to refuse?"
Sarah's pale face turned ashen.
"Oh my God! But of course! If he had the nerve to approach me, he must have succeeded many times with more likely mechanics. And why not, most of them are locals who took their training right here on XER. To them he's an Authority, to be obeyed. Confederation laws wouldn't mean much to them. That means that there are people dying! People dying. . . , who knows how. . . in omega-space. . . ."
It was almost too horrible to think about. No human being had any clear understanding of the process which shuttled space craft instantaneously from one spot in normal space to another in an entirely different section of the galaxy. The descendants of the people who had originally populated only the planet Earth had bought the required technology from another species of intelligent beings, eons older than themselves, and tired of travelling through space. These creatures had gladly taught the new upstarts how to manufacture and operate the omega-transmitters which, along with the crystals that powered them, formed the heart of every spaceship built since then. In return they asked only guarantees that they would be left in peace on the quiet planet which they had chosen for their retirement. The Confederation Government still jealously protected their peace, keeping ships on guard around the territory the Turtle-Folk had claimed as their own, allowing no outsiders to trespass there. Meanwhile, it had turned out that the human mind was not capable of understanding the process of omega-transmission, and that meant that it was not possible to refine the system in any way.
The first human-built ships to travel across the galaxy had been jarred by the passage through omega-space, and the craft of the present day suffered in the same fashion. For the sake of safety, the practice of giving all spaceships maintenance checks at five-jump intervals had been instituted very early in galactic history. To do otherwise, or to skimp on these checks was dangerous, and against Confederation law.
"Okay, Matty," Sarah said, having grasped the seriousness of the situation. "You're right. I have to do something. But what? Give me some ideas. You're the one who has lived along the space routes all his life. Me - I'm so naive I took this job without even finding out what this Space Station is like. I thought all the Space Stations were alike."
They busied themselves opening up the food packets. The soup was steaming hot, and Matty stirred his broth thoughtfully.
"How was your record on Earth?" he finally queried. "As a ship mechanic, I mean."
"Excellent." Sarah was justly proud of that record. "I was the best apprentice they had. And when I left, and they were begging me to stay, they told me that I was the best mechanic that they had trained in a very long time. And Laurentia, of course, has been training ship mechanics longer than any other port in the universe."
"Great. What about your dealings with your superiors? Reprimands and stuff? Trouble with the bosses?"
Sarah shook her head.
"Never. I was so dedicated - so determined to do well."
She sighed to remember the earnest, serious girl who had worked very hard to learn all that she could about spaceship mechanics. "Besides, the powers-that-be weren't like they're here. I found my superiors to be very reasonable. There was no need to cross them."
"Wonderful. We might actually get somewhere."
Matty ladled soup into his mouth seemingly unaware of its taste or texture. A minute passed before he spoke again. "What I think that you ought to do," he finally began, "is launch a couple of complaints. It's easy to do that on a comlink."
Sarah nodded. There were rows of comlinks in the Space Port and they gave direct access to all and sundry, to the branches of the Confederation Government. The local residents were discouraged from using them by Ammha's priests, but she was under no such constraint.
"Complaint number one is basically a rebuttal to the report that Kalso has no doubt already filed with the Galactic Employment Service. He will have claimed that you have been uncooperative to the point of refusing to take orders. You will have to tell your side of the story, explaining why following Kalso's orders would have been contrary to everything you know about ship mechanics, besides being criminal.
“The second one will be a report of suspected criminal activity on XER. It will go to the Confederation Law Enforcement Bureau. You describe what happened to you, and explain what it implies about what may well have been going on in the Maintenance Sector for some time. The crime is serious enough that if the bureau at all believes your story they will send some investigators to sniff at things going o
n around here. Even if the investigators don't come up with anything that can be proved in court, at least their presence will - I hope - scare Kalso enough that he'll give up the corner-cutting."
Sarah sighed. "It all sounds so simple and sensible," she said, "but I wonder if it'll do any good. Why should anyone pay any attention to what I say? I'm just a nobody freshly off planet Earth, pitting myself against a Space Station Authority, which is what Kalso is in spite of everything. Besides, even if somebody does take note of what I say, it will take time for the bureaucratic wheels to get rolling."
Matty nodded pensively. "All the same," he protested, "filing those complaints is something that you can do. What did you expect me to suggest? That you smuggle a bomb into Kalso's office and blow him into smithereens?"
Sarah managed a wan smile at the crude attempt at humour. She shook her head.
"Okay, point taken. I promise to detour via a comlink on my way home tonight. But I sure wish that I could just hop on the next ship out - one that has not been maintained here - and leave this craziness for you to worry about."
"Aw, come on, Sarah. It's not that bad. Sooner or later, I promise you, Kalso will get his. That kind of a crook always does.
"In the meantime let's think about more cheerful things. I did mention, didn't I, when I visited you in Maintenance that I had a story for you?"
Sarah nodded. "You said that it might divert me from my troubles for awhile."
The grim, troubled expression had vanished from Matty's face. Indeed, his eyes had suddenly grown so animated that even his usual cheerfulness would have paled in comparison.
Sarah stared at him, amazed, very curious about his tale. The youth was plainly bursting with it.
"Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. While you were having your fun this morning a most fantastic thing happened in the port. An Explorer ship came in."
Sarah's jaw dropped. She shook her head.
"No, Matty," she protested. "Not an Explorer ship. Not on XER."
"Yes, yes, oh yes! An Explorer ship. On XER."
Matty leaned across the table to grasp both of Sarah's hands into his. "Sarah, this is for real," he said. "There is an Explorer ship in the XER Space Port right this minute!"
Sarah merely shook her head.
"Okay." He took pity on her and proceeded to explain. "I'm sure they're not here by choice. It seems that somebody from the ship was transferred to the hospital as soon as it had landed."
"All right." Sarah was prepared to accept that. "No-one who has a sick or an injured person aboard a spaceship makes any omega-hops that are not absolutely necessary."
It had long been known that the physical system of an ill or hurt person sustained further damage during omega-travel. Theory had it that all objects and creatures crossing space via the wrinkle known as omega-space separated into their component parts for the split-second duration of the transfer. The central consciousness of a healthy human, an animal, or a plant helped to pull it together on return to normal space, but an entity already under physical strain was not quite as adept at this. Its condition worsened with successive jumps.
"Somebody must have had a serious accident or else took really ill," said Matty, nodding vigorously. "And the crew found that the only civilized port within one omega-hop was XER."
The Explorers were both a legend, and a reality. They had existed for as long as the Terra Confederation had, and stories about them had been told for almost as long. In the beginning they had embodied the outward thrusting force that drew the people of a small, apparently insignificant planet to settle, populate, and, eventually, govern a good portion of a galaxy. They had been the restless, adventurous folk, who could not live quietly in their home towns or cities, but had to heed the call of the unknown. They were the persons who had manned the first clumsy rocket-ships that visited the neighbouring planets and it was they who had immediately seen the promise held by the offer that the "Turtle-People" had come, on a sunny day, to make to the Central Earth Government. Omega-transmitters! Omega-crystals! Omega-travel! That meant a universe to explore! Worlds to tame! The enthusiasm of their kind must surely have been what persuaded the governors to accept the pact that was to have such far-flung effects.
In the centuries that had followed the acquisition of the omega-mode of travel, the Explorers had led the way across the galaxy, searching out and charting new planets to be exploited, or occupied. The Terra Confederation had established itself wherever the Explorers had led, and in time the adventuresome life of the forerunners came to symbolize, in the minds of their followers, the positive side of human aggression.
People told stories about the Explorers to their children and they in turn passed the tales on to their progeny. In time these tales took on the proportions of myth, and the Explorers, even while they continued charting the edges of the known universe, became a Confederation-wide legend. Youngsters dreamed of joining the ranks of the adventurers, and the adults accorded an Explorer ship every imaginable courtesy, if ever they were lucky enough to have their Space Port honoured by such a presence. A generous custom was written into lawbooks as a duty: every Confederation space port was required to maintain and provision for free, any Explorer ship that happened to come in.
All things change, however. There came a time when the Confederation was tired of expansionism, and settled down to consolidate gains already made. The work that the Explorers did, lost its practical value to the government, and it moved to drastically cut their operations. But by then the Explorers had evolved into a clearly defined population group with idiosyncrasies to set them apart from other people. Neither they, nor the proud ships that they used, found it easy to adjust to the new reality.
Nevertheless, many of the vessels and their crews domesticated themselves to Ranger use - interplanetary law enforcement became a priority issue as the Confederation government struggled to unite the countless planets and Space Stations that called themselves members, into a more or less coherent whole. Other ships became traders, selling their services to one or another of the merchandising empires that dominated the galactic trade routes. But a minority clung to the life that they knew, learning the art of self-support as the galactic government phased out the system of grants and subsidies that had fuelled the earlier explorations. They continued to map the fringes of the known universe, at the same time branching out into treasure-hunting - the riches that they found on unnamed planets could be sold in the marketplaces of Confederation cities and Space Stations, and the money thus obtained would furnish the finders with whatever was needed to sustain life at the edge of the unknown.
But, as often happens, while the reality dwindled, the legend continued to grow. In the mind of an average citizen of the Confederation, the Explorers remained heroes, more so since his chances of ever actually meeting any, grew very small. Space Ports vied for the honour of having an Explorer ship visit them, and gladly obeyed the now-ancient law calling for free maintenance and provisioning of such craft. Often the port cities or the Space Stations would offer rent-free space in their marketplaces to the crews of particular Explorer ships so as to induce them to make return visits.
In all of Terra Confederation there was only one exception to the general enthusiasm, and that exception was Space Station XER. The XER Authorities, believers in utility and austerity, had quickly recognized the uselessness of the Explorers in a system that was no longer expanding outwards. They did not want to have any part in subsidizing a lifestyle which they saw as romantically foolish. At every meeting of the galactic legislature the representatives from XER called for the old statute about provisions and maintenance to be crossed off the books. Always the reaction of the delegates from the other Space Stations and planets was a firm, united "no". The rest of the known galaxy was not ready to give up their heroes, much to the annoyance of the honourable gentlemen from XER.
The Explorers themselves quite naturally chose to avoid Space Station XER. Why visit a house in which the welcome is begrudging, when thousands o
f doors stand open with their owners beckoning from the steps? That was why, at first, Sarah had simply refused to believe Matty's words about an Explorer ship in the XER Port, until he gave her a logical explanation for its presence.
"Unfortunately for the Explorers," Matty was now saying, "XER was built near a very important omega-warp. It was only a matter of time until a ship in an emergency situation was forced to land here."
"I guess it'll come into Maintenance soon,” mused Sarah. "I can hardly wait. A real Explorer ship! You can bet that I'll find an excuse to go through it as soon as I can!"
The Space Port of Laurentia on Earth had not been one of the fortunate few which the Explorers frequented. Like most of the inhabitants of the Terra Confederation, Sarah had never met one of the heroes, although she had grown up hearing stories about them.
"It'll get there, I expect, sometime during your workshift tomorrow," Matty agreed, after seeming to make some quick calculations in his head. "Meanwhile I think I will try to meet some of the crew - makes perfectly good sense in my line of work, you know." His eyes were dancing.
"Oh, Matty!" Sarah reached over to grab one of his hands with both of hers. "Please, please," she pleaded, "let me in on this. Introduce me to one or two - it would be the high point of my life."
"Oh, I might do that," laughed Matty. "Assuming that you'll be good, of course. No insubordination allowed."
"Wonderful! I'll be eternally grateful - ". Sarah's face suddenly turned ashen, and she dropped hold of the youth's hand unceremoniously. She stared with unseeing eyes at the screen behind Matty's chair.
