A. E. Van Vogt - Novel 18 - Mission to the Stars

by Mission to the Stars

  The officer said quietly: “I am familiar with these arguments.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” said Grand Captain Laurr acidly. And broke the connection between them.

  Next, she called Astrogation. A young officer answered. To him she said: “I want a series of orbits plotted that will take us through the Greater Magellanic Cloud in the quickest possible time. Before we’re through, I want us to have been within five hundred light-years of every star in the system.”

  Some of the color faded from the youthful officer’s face. “Your excellency,” he gasped, “that is the most remarkable order that we have ever received. This cloud of stars is six thousand light-years in diameter. What velocity did you have in mind, remembering that we have no knowledge of the location of the storms here?”

  The boy’s reaction disconcerted her, in spite of herself. Just for an instant, she felt doubt. She had a brief abstract awareness of how great a volume of space she contemplated passing through.

  The doubt passed. She stiffened herself. “I believe,” she said, “that the density of storm areas in this system would limit us to about one light-year every thirty minutes.”

  She broke off curtly: “Have your chief advise me when these orbits have been completed.”

  “Yes, your excellency, said the young man. His voice was drab.

  She broke that connection, sat back and manipulated a switch that altered the viewport in front of her into a reflecting surface. She stared at her image. She saw a slim, grim-faced, rather handsome young woman of thirty-five. The image was smiling faintly, ironically, an indication of her satisfaction with the two steps she had taken. The word would spread. People would begin to realize what she contemplated. There would be despair; then acceptance. She felt no regret. She had done what she had because she took it for granted that the governments of the Fifty Suns would not reveal the location of a single one of their planets.

  She ate lunch alone on the bridge, feeling intense excitement. A struggle for control of the ship’s destiny was imminent; and she knew that she must be prepared for every eventuality. Three calls came through before she had finished eating. She had set up an automatic busy signal; and so she ignored them. The busy signal meant: “I’m here, but don’t bother me unless it’s urgent.” Each time the calls ceased within seconds.

  After lunch, she lay down for a while to sleep and think. Presently, she rose, walked over to a matter transmitter, made the necessary adjustments—and stepped through to Psychology House half a mile away.

  Lieutenant Neslor, the chief psychologist and a woman, emerged from a nearby room and greeted her warmly. The Grand Captain outlined her problems. The older woman nodded, and said:

  “I thought you’d be down to see me. If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll turn my patient to an assistant; and then I’ll talk to you.”

  By the time she returned, Lady Laurr had felt an incidental curiosity. “How many patients do you have here?”

  The older woman’s gray eyes studied her thoughtfully.

  “My staff does about eight hundred hours of therapy a week.”

  “With your facilities, that sounds tremendous.” Lieutenant Neslor nodded. “It’s been on the increase for several years.”

  Lady Gloria shrugged, and was about to dismiss the matter when another thought struck her. “What’s the trouble?” she asked. “Homesickness?”

  “I suppose you could call it that. We have several technical names for it.” She broke off. “Now, don’t you be too critical. This is a hard life for people whose work is purely routine. Big though the ship is, with each passing year its facilities are less satisfying to the individual” The Right Honorable Gloria Cecily parted her lips to say that her own work was routine also. Just in time she realized that the remark would sound false, even condescending. Nevertheless, she shook her head impatiently. “I don’t understand. We have everything aboard this ship. Equal numbers of men and women, endless activities, food in plenty and more entertainment than a person could desire in an entire lifetime. You can walk under growing trees beside ever-running streams. You can get married and divorced, though of course no children are allowed. There are gay bachelors aboard, and bachelor girls. Everyone has a room of his own, and the knowledge that his pay is accumulating, and that he can retire at the end of the voyage.” She frowned. “And right now, with the discovery of this civilization of the Fifty Suns, the voyage should be very stimulating.”

  The older woman smiled. “Gloria, dear, you’re not being very bright. It’s stimulating to you and me because of our special positions. Personally, I’m looking forward to seeing how these people think and act. I’ve read up on the history of the so-called Dellian and non-Dellian robots, and there’s a whole new world of discovery here—for me; but not for the man who cooks my meals.” The Grand Captain’s face was determined again. “I’m afraid he’ll just have to stick it out. And now, let’s get to business. We’ve got a two-level problem: Keeping control of the ship. Finding the Fifty Suns. In that order, I think.”

  Their discussion lasted well into the main sleep period. In the end Lady Laurr returned to the bridge, and to her apartment, which adjoined it, conceived that both problems were, as she had suspected, predominantly psychological.

  The week of grace went by uneventfully.

  At the precise hour that it ended, the Grand Captain called into council the divisional captains of her giant ship. And with her first words struck at the heart of the emotional tension she had divined was in the officers as well as the men: “As I see it, ladies and gentlemen, we must stay here until we find this civilization, even if it means remaining for another ten years.”

  The captains looked at their neighbors, and stirred uneasily. There were thirty of them, all except four being men.

  The Right Honorable Gloria Cecily Laurr of Noble Laurr went on: “Taking that into account, accepting the fact that long-run strategies are in order, has anyone a plan of procedure?”

  Captain Wayless, chief of staff of the flight command, said: “I am personally opposed to the notion that this search should be continued.”

  The Grand Captain’s eyes narrowed. She guessed from the expressions of the others that Wayless was stating a more generally held opinion than she had suspected. She said as quietly as had he: “Captain, there are procedures for overruling a ship’s commanding officer. Why not follow one of them?”

  Captain Wayless was pale. “Very well, your excellency,” he said. “I invoke clause 492 of the Regulations.” In spite of herself, his prompt acceptance of her challenge shocked her. She knew the clause, since it was a limitation on her own power. No one could possibly know all the regulations governing the minutiae of personnel control. But she had learned that each individual knew the regulations relating to himself. When it came to personal rights, everyone was a space-lawyer, herself included.

  But she sat now, white-faced, as Captain Wayless read the clause in a resonant voice: “Limitation . . . circumstances justify the captains in council . . . a majority . . . two-thirds. . . . Original purpose of voyage . . .” It was all there, as she recalled it, invoked against her now for the first time. The Star Cluster had been sent on a mapping expedition. The task was completed. In insisting on a change of purpose, she had brought her actions within the meaning of the regulation.

  She waited till Wayless had put down the book. Then she said in a mild tone: “How do we vote?”

  It was twenty-one against her, and five for her. Four officers abstained. Captain Dorothy Sturdevant, who headed the female clerical division, said, “Gloria, it had to be that way. We’ve been out a long time. Let someone else find this civilization.”

  The Grand Captain tapped with her pencil on the long, gleaming desk, an impatient gesture. But when she spoke, her voice was measured: “Regulation 492 gives me discretion to act as I see fit in a period varying between five and ten percent of the total length of the voyage to date, provided the discretionary power is not employed beyond six months.
I therefore decree that we remain six months longer in the Greater Magellanic Cloud. And now, let us discuss ways and means of locating a planet of the Fifty Suns. Here are my ideas.” Coolly, she proceeded to give them.

  Chapter

  Three

  MALTBY was reading in his cabin aboard the Fifty Suns’ battleship Atmion when the alarm sounded: “All personnel to stations!”

  There was no whine of sirens, so it was not a battle alert. He put down his book, slipped into his coat, and headed for astrogation and instrument room. Several officers, including the ship’s executive astrogational officer, were already there when he arrived. They nodded to him, rather curtly, but that was usual. He sat down at his desk, and took out of his pocket the tool of his trade: a slide rule with a radio attachment which connected with the nearest—in this case the ship’s—mechanical brain.

  He was in the act of taking out pencils and paper, when the ship moved under him. Simultaneously, a loud speaker came on; and the unmistakable voice of Commanding Officer Vice-admiral Dreehan said:

  “This message is going to officers only. As you know, slightly more than a week ago, we were contacted by the Earth battleship Star Cluster, and given an ultimatum, the time limit for which expired five hours ago. Up till now, the various governments of our people have indicated that no further message has been forthcoming. Actually, a second ultimatum was received about three hours ago, but it contained an unexpected threat. It is believed that the public might be unduly alarmed if the nature of the threat was announced. The attitude of the governments will be that no second message was received. But here, for your private information, is the new ultimatum.” There was a pause, and then a deep, firm, resonant man’s voice spoke: “Her excellency, the Right Honorable

  Gloria Cecily, Lady Laurr of Noble Laurr, Grand Captain of the battleship Star Cluster, will now deliver her second message to the people of the Fifty Suns.”

  There was another pause. And then, instead of Grand Captain Laurr, Admiral Dreehan’s voice came on again.

  “I have been asked,” he said, “to call your attention to this imposing list of titles. Apparently, a woman of so-called noble birth is in command of the enemy ship. That a woman should be commander seems very democratic, indicating equality of the sexes. But how did she gain her appointment? Through her rank? Besides, the very existence of rank is some indication of the kind of totalitarian government that exists in the main galaxy.”

  Maltby could not agree to the analysis. Titles were words that had meanings according to usage. In the Fifty Suns, there had been totalitarian eras where the leaders called themselves “Chief Servant.” There had been “Presidents” whose whim could mean death for individuals, “Secretaries” who controlled governments absolutely, immensely dangerous individuals all, whose nominal rank covered a deadly reality. Furthermore, the desire for a verbal symbol of achievement permeated all human effort in every type of political system. Even as he spoke, “Admiral” Dreehan exercised his rank. In listening to this private transcription of an ultimatum “Captain” Maltby was being given a special privilege of rank and position. The “head” of a business, the “owner” of property, the trained “expert”—each in its fashion was rank. Each gave the possessor emotional satisfaction similar to that obtainable from position of any degree. In the Fifty Suns it had become popular to despise kings and dictators of all history. This attitude, in failing to take account of the circumstances, was as childish as its opposite: the inculcated worship of leaders. The Mixed Men, in their desperate situation, had reluctantly appointed an hereditary leader to avoid the bitter rivalry of ambitious men. Their plan had received a dangerous setback when the “heir” was captured. But the resulting struggle for power had decided them to reaffirm his status. It seemed to Maltby, ruefully, that no man had ever felt so little like an hereditary ruler. Yet even as he shifted uneasily under the rank, he recognized how necessary it had been. And how great was the obligation upon him to act decisively in a crisis. His thought ended, because her “excellency” was speaking.

  Grand Captain the Right Honorable Gloria Cecily said:

  “It is with regret that we who represent the Earth civilization recognize the recalcitrancy of the governments of the Fifty Suns. We can say in the most solemn fashion that the people have been misled. The coming of Earth power into the Greater Magellanic Cloud will be of benefit to all individuals and groups of all planets. Earth has much to offer. Earth guarantees to the individual basic rights under law, guarantees to the group basic freedoms and economic prosperity, and requires all government to be elective by secret ballot.

  “Earth does not permit a separate sovereign state anywhere in the universe.

  “Such a separate military power could strike at the heart of the human-controlled galaxy, and drop bombs on densely populated planets. That has happened. You may guess what we did to the governments who sponsored such a project. You cannot escape us. If by any chance we should fail now with our one ship to locate you, then within a few years ten thousand ships will be here searching. This is one thing we never delay on. From our point of view, it is safer to destroy an entire civilization than let it exist as a cancer in the greater culture from which it sprang.

  “However, we do not think that we shall fail. Starting now, my great battleship, Star Culture, will cruise on a definite course through the Greater Magellanic Cloud. It will take us several years to pass within five hundred light years of every sun in the system. As we move along, we shall direct cosmic-ray bombs at random towards the planets of most of the stars in any given area of space.

  “Realizing that such a threat might make you afraid to trust yourselves to us, I have indicated why we adopt this admittedly merciless attitude. It is not yet too late to reveal yourselves. At any moment the government of any planet can broadcast its willingness to identify the location of the Fifty Suns. The first planet to do so will henceforth, and for all future time, be the capital of the Fifty Suns. The first individual or group who gives us a clue to the location of his or its planet will receive a gift of one billion platinum dollars, good anywhere in the main galaxy, or if you prefer, the equivalent sum in your own money.

  “Have no fear. My ship can protect you against the organized might of the Fifty Suns military forces. And now, as an evidence of our determination, I shall have our chief astrogator broadcast the figures that will enable you to follow our course through the Cloud.”

  The message ended abruptly. Admiral Dreehan came on and said: “I shall presently give these figures to the Astrogation department, since it is our intention to follow the Star Cluster, and observe the result of its announced program. However, I have been asked to call your attention to another implication to the broadcast which Lady Laurr has made to us. Her manner, tone and wording suggest that she commands a very big ship.” The Admiral went on quickly: “Please do not imagine that we are jumping to any conclusions, but consider some of her statements. She says that the Star Cluster will “direct” cosmic-ray bombs to most of the planets of the Cloud. Suppose when reduced to common sense she meant one bomb for every hundred planets. That would still require several million bombs. But our own bomb factories can turn out only one cosmic-ray unit every four days. At a minimum, such a factory would need a square mile of floor space. Then, again, she stated that her one ship can protect traitors against the Fifty Suns military forces. At the moment we have more than a hundred battleships in service in addition to four hundred cruisers and thousands of smaller craft. Let’s consider also the original purpose of the Star Cluster in the Greater Magellanic Cloud. It was, by their own admission, a star mapping expedition. Our own mapping ships are small obsolete models. It seems hard to believe that Earth would assign one of their greatest and most powerful ships to so routine a task.” The Admiral broke off. “I should like all officers to prepare for me their reactions to the foregoing statements. And now, that’s all for most of you. I shall broadcast for Astrogation and Meteorology the figures supplied us by the
Star Cluster.”

  It required just over five hours of sustained, careful work to orient the map furnished by the Star Cluster to the long-established star map system of the Fifty Suns. At that time it was estimated that the Atmion was about 1400 light years away from the Earth ship.

  The distance was unimportant. They knew the location of all storms in the Greater Magellanic Cloud. And so they easily plotted an orbit that permitted a velocity of approximately half a light-year a minute.

  The prolonged effort tired Maltby. As soon as his share of the task was finished, he retreated to his cabin, and slept.

  He woke to the sound of an alarm bell ringing. Quickly, he switched on a viewplate that connected with the bridge. The fact that a picture came on immediately indicated that officers were being permitted to watch events. He saw on the plate that it was focussed at full magnification on a distant point of light. The light moved, and the plate kept adjusting, trying to hold it near center.

  A voice said: “According to our automatic calculators, the Star Cluster is now approximately a third of a light year away.”

  Maltby frowned at the explanation, because it was not properly worded. The speaker meant that the two vessels were within each other’s upper-resonance fields, a secondary phenomenon of sub-space radio, and a kind of damped echo of the virtually unlimited lower-resonance range. It was impossible to tell how far away the Earth ship was, except that it could not be farther than a third of a light year. It might be only a few hundred miles, though that was doubtful. There were radar devices for short-distance detection of objects in space.

  The voice went on: “We have reduced our own speed to ten light-days a minute. Since we are following the course broadcast by the Earth ship, and have not lost her, we can assume that we are matching her velocity.”

  That statement, also was not exact. It was possible to approximate, but impossible to match velocities with a ship traveling at more than light-speed. The error would show up as soon as the two ships lost touch with each other’s upper-resonance fields. Even as he had the thought, the light on the plate winked out.