Not for the first time, Rick decided that males and females spoke different languages. It was a mystery that they were even considered the same species.
Chapter Eighteen
CHICK Teazle had been put in charge of arrangements; not, as Barney French explained to him, because he was especially competent, but because he was so obnoxious that people would do what he asked rather than get into an argument with him.
He was also, though Barney did not mention it, a natural organizer who loved jobs like this. For the past twenty-four hours he had hardly slept, planning out the work needed to make a Cinderella transition from ore smelter to dance hall.
"We spin it first, and get some decent internal gravity," he said to the apprentices, assembled in the main training hall of CM-26. "We need gravity for good dancing, and for sitting comfortable. And we fill the SM with air last. That way we can bring in partitions and food and drink and everything else through the big open end, and not have to keep using the airlock."
"Suits all the time?" asked Deedee. Even after months of experience, no one really liked working in suits.
"Well, not for the party itself. Just for setting it up. Once that's done and the SM is airtight, we take off our suits." Chick produced a gigantic sheet of hardboard, covered with minute writing. "Here's the schedule for everything, with names attached to individual tasks. We'll eat tonight over in the SM, but that means we have to be finished with everything here before dinner time."
Gladys de Witt was studying the board. "I see my name, and most people's; but I don't see Vido or Alice or Deedee or Rick."
"They go anywhere we have to go, do whatever needs to be done. They're the troubleshooters, along with me."
"What trouble?"
Chick sighed. "If I knew that, it wouldn't be trouble, would it? It would be shown on the board. Trouble is what you don't expect. We've never done anything like this before, I bet we'll run into a hundred things that don't work out quite the way I planned it. Look, do you want a debate, or do you want a party?"
"Party!" Anything that Gladys might have said was drowned out by the shout from everyone else.
"So let's get going." Chick held out the hardboard sheet. "If anybody has questions at this end, Vido and Alice will be here to answer them. Deedee and Rick will handle problems over in the SM. I'll be floating all over."
Any notion that the troubleshooters might have it easier than anyone else was dispelled in the first half-hour. Spinning the smelter on its central axis, to give a comfortable and familiar quarter-gee field at the outer surface, was easy and went exactly as planned. But when the work team went inside they were out again within seconds.
Lafe Eklund came floating over to where Rick and Deedee were waiting. "We're all right for the moment," he said, "because we're getting sunlight in through the open end. But when we close that, the partitions we want will make it too dark for the party. We're going to need more internal lights."
Deedee looked at Rick. She seemed to have something on her mind, and he thought that she had been tentatively working her way around to discussing it. But now she said abruptly, "The lights will have to come from the main base. I'll go get some."
She jetted away, leaving Rick to wonder what was going on. Alice had been with him in his room the previous night. Did Deedee know that? Alice's room was next to hers. Even if she did, why did she care? He thought of the last party, back on CM-2, when he had danced all evening with Deedee. Was she expecting or hoping that he would do the same again? Would he do the same again? Did he want to?
Rick was having trouble sorting out his own feelings, but he had no time to brood on personal matters. Lafe Eklund had been gone less than two minutes, and already he was coming back.
"We could really use another pair of hands," he said. "We can bring partitions in easily through the open end, and we can move them to the curved floor. But because the SM is spinning pretty fast, the floor is moving relative to the partitions when they get there. One person can't handle them."
"How many partitions?"
"Altogether? About forty. And we have eight tables, and forty chairs, and the sound system, and all the food dispensers."
"Then I've got a better answer." Rick felt useful for the first time. "I can slow the spin way down, until all the inside fixtures are on the floor and secured, then spin back up again. Gravity's great for dancing, but it's a pain during installation. Give me five minutes."
As he moved around the outside of the smelter, Rick sent a radio message back to tell Chick Teazle what he was doing. Chick's instinct had been quite right. Plan all you liked, and there would still be a hundred things that had to be done a little differently.
It was easy to see why Lafe had complained. A quarter gee field on the circumference of the SM might be fine for eating or dancing, but to achieve that the whole cylinder was spinning around on its axis once every eighteen seconds. That didn't sound fast—until you realized that partitions you brought in from outside had to be seated on a curved surface moving past them at seven meters a second. That was as fast as most people could run.
Rick used the drives to slow the spin to a more stately rotation, once every minute. The effective field at the outer curved surface would go down to—what? He struggled to calculate an answer in his head, and failed.
Well, it would go down a lot, from a quarter gee to maybe a fortieth of a gee. Installation work would be much easier.
But it might not be trivial. Rick headed around to the open end of the smelter and moved inside, to see how things were going. Lafe Eklund gave him a thumbs-up sign. The partitions were floating down easily into position and being secured by a super-glue that held at anything from absolute zero to a thousand degrees.
It was tempting to join Lafe and his group at their work. Rick told himself that was not his job. He was supposed to save himself for things that weren't going well. But when Deedee returned with a dozen light fixtures, he helped her to pick good positions and install them. This was a task that had not been anticipated, so it was a natural for the troubleshooters.
He was half expecting Deedee to pick up their earlier conversation, but apparently in her absence she had changed her mind. Her comments were all technical. It was Rick, to his surprise, who found himself gesturing to her to turn off her radio. He placed his helmet next to hers. "Got any plans for the party?"
She stared at him, but even with the bright new lights he could not see her eyes inside her suit's visor. "What do you mean, plans? Maybe I do. Why?"
"I thought you might be willing to give me dance lessons again. I mean, if you still like to dance with fire hydrants.
I'm the nearest thing to it within three hundred million kilometers."
"Is that your idea of a graceful invitation?" But she didn't sound angry, only amused and thoughtful. "I sort of told Chick Teazle that he and I might make a couple."
"Oh." Rick hit back a question about Chick and Deedee. "Pity."
"It wasn't definite, though. I can tell him I changed my mind." Deedee turned, so that at last he could see her face. She was frowning. "But what about you—and Alice? I mean, I thought that you two. . ."
"It's nothing definite." Rick knew that was a whopping lie, and he could be getting into big trouble. It was true that he and Alice had never gone public, but in private they had done things that Rick never dreamed of before. Maybe Alice would want him to dance with her tonight. Maybe she would finally forget her worries about what the instructors might think of affairs between apprentices—certainly, no one else seemed to care.
"I'd like you to go to the party with me." Rick spoke to end his own uncertainties. "And I'd like you to dance with me."
"Just you?"
Rick swallowed, and took the plunge. "Just me. Nobody else."
"Then I will." Deedee gave Rick a glowing smile, and squeezed his arm in a gloved hand. "Damn these suits. I can't even touch you."
"We won't have to wear suits at the dance. Assuming there is a dance, whi
ch there won't be unless we get everything ready." Rick moved his helmet away from Deedee's and gestured to her to turn her radio on. "We'd better get back to work. There could be a million problems going on right now, and we'd never know it."
"No. If there were, Chick would be buzzing all over the place. But I'd better go talk to him and tell him about tonight."
"Do you think he'll be upset?"
"Suppose he is. Do you want to call it off?"
"No way!"
"Then don't ask stupid questions. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Deedee jetted up to the open top of the smelter and vanished around the outside. Rick realized that he ought to have his own conversation with Alice—and soon. He was probably a jerk, but if Deedee wanted to do more than dance tonight he knew he would not hesitate.
Alice was over at the main station, handling problems there with Vido. And Rick, with Deedee gone off to talk to Chick Teazle, was the only assigned troubleshooter at the smelter. He had to stay until she got back.
Before he could fret over that, other matters took over. Lafe Eklund called to say that the interior work was all done, and Rick could spin the SM back up to a quarter gee field. While he was doing it, what seemed like an army of suited apprentices appeared from the main body of CM-26 and came streaming over toward the smelter.
"What's wrong?" he called on his suit radio.
"Wrong?" That was Vido. "Nothing's wrong. That's why we're here."
"We're all done back there." That was Chick, jetting along beside Deedee—if he was heartbroken he certainly didn't sound it. "We have all the food and everything else with us. As soon as you are finished we can fill the inside with air, get out of these suits, and start the party."
"We're done, too," said Lafe. He was standing on the inner surface up near the top of the smelter, checking the apparent gravity as the cylinder gradually leveled off its rate of spin. "Come in through this end. Once you're all inside I'll close it so we can pressurize."
Deedee was moving past Rick, giving him a jaunty wave and a nod that said that she had talked to Chick, and everything was all right.
But it wasn't. Rick hadn't spoken to Alice. He hovered outside as person after person passed him, moving down into the bright and transformed interior of the smelter. Tables and chairs now ran top to bottom along one quadrant of the curved interior, with the food service area taking up another quarter. Half of the other side of the cylinder was a generous dance area. The remainder was cubicles with their own couches, walls, doors—and ceilings. No one would be able to look up from the dining area across the middle of the cylinder, and see what was going on in one of the private rooms on the other side.
Where was Alice? He felt sure that he hadn't missed her.
"Are you coming in?" That was Lafe, waiting at the big open end of the smelter. "We're set to close and fill."
"I'll be another few minutes. Go ahead and don't worry about me. I can use the airlock at the other end."
It occurred to Rick as he spoke that Alice might be doing exactly that. Maybe instead of moving with the main group into this end of the SM, she was entering instead through the triple airlock at the other end.
The metal sectors close to him began their ponderous pincer movement, narrowing to seal the circular aperture of the smelter. While they were still closing Rick headed along the outer edge of the cylinder, reflecting that it would be just his luck if Alice happened to be going the other way, out of sight on the far side.
Well, if that were the case she was too late. She would have to return and use the lock, just like him.
He came to the triple airlock and moved into the first of its three compartments. This one could be held at vacuum, or pressurized to the same level as the interior, or partially pressurized at any level in between. The chamber beyond had the same feature, plus enough rack space for dozens of suits. At the moment both locks were hard vacuum, but the pressure gauges showed that the inside of the SM was already filling with air.
Rick remained in the second of the locks and peered through the thick glass port. He saw Barney, he saw Gina, he saw Vido and Lafe and Gladys. He surveyed the whole group, climbing out of their suits. Everyone except Alice was there.
So where was she?
He turned, and was just in time to see a suited figure glide across the edge of his field of view and disappear from sight around the side of the smelter. Whoever it was had come from the direction of the main body of CM-26—and it was surely not Alice. The suit was far too big and bulky.
It was Jigger Tait. Rick was almost sure, even from that brief glimpse. There was no reason why Jigger should not come to the party; but if that was his intention, why hadn't he headed straight for this airlock?
Rick thought again of Deedee's suspicions that Jigger, with his secret prowling around the mining asteroid, was up to something sinister. The party was a perfect time for anyone to snoop through the apprentices' rooms. But it made little sense to explore out here. And why stay outside the SM if you did?
Rick went back through the locks and floated cautiously in the direction that Jigger Tait had taken. He paused as he rounded the end of the smelter. There was no sign of a suit anywhere along the smooth curved side of the cylinder. Open space in all directions seemed just as empty.
Where could Jigger have gone? The only hiding place left was the end of the cylinder, its flat circle still invisible to Rick. He used his suit jets at their lowest setting and crept forward to where he could peer over the curved cylinder edge.
What he saw was totally bewildering. There was not one suited figure, but two—and they were fighting. They were grappling with each other, turning and rolling and kicking in a jumble of arms and legs.
Jigger Tait—and Alice. From this distance there was no doubt at all.
As Rick watched, Jigger used his superior strength and mass to spin Alice around and lock a forearm viciously across her suit's flexible neck piece. He levered hard, cutting off her breathing and resisting her desperate efforts to break free. She kicked and beat at him, but it did no more than turn them end over end in space.
Rick watched, open-mouthed. He was oblivious to his own movement, and he was slowly drifting higher over the cylinder's end plate when the interlocked bodies turned far enough for Alice to catch sight of him.
"Rick!" Her cry was faint and agonized, from lungs starved for air. "Rick. Help me!"
Jigger was killing her. Rick responded instinctively. He jetted right at Tait, hoping to separate the two of them by the sheer force of his collision. It didn't work as planned, because Jigger turned somehow and dipped his shoulder. Rick drove feet-first into that shoulder and the side of Jigger's helmet, partly breaking his hold on Alice and sending them toward the rigid side of the smelter.
Jigger seemed stunned. As his grip loosened, Alice gave a cry of triumph. She turned, wrapped her long legs around Jigger's middle, and fired her suit's jets at maximum impulse. Jigger was driven backwards, headfirst toward the solid wall. It seemed inevitable that the helmet and face plate of his suit would shatter as he hit, but at the last moment his own jets fired laterally. He and Alice spun giddily about their common center of mass. It was her helmet that smashed at high speed into the unyielding cylinder.
Not even hardened plastics could withstand such an impact. Her face plate burst open at eye level. Rick heard a whistling scream on his suit radio as air exploded from Alice's lungs. Her body bounced one way, while Jigger Tait's suit with jets still flaring went spinning off crazily in another direction.
"Rick!" The cry came this time from Tait, flying farther off and struggling to get his suit's movements under control. "Rick—the panel. Hit the Abort key."
Rick, ready to plunge after Alice, paused. If he reached her he did not know what he could for her. But what was Jigger Tait shouting about, with such desperation in his voice?
Rick turned.
The panel. There it was, the control panel, its white cover open. It was right next to him. What did J
igger mean, hit the Abort?
Rick stooped over to look more closely. The control that would open the end of the smelter had been switched to the ON position. The safety override was in operation. The timer was set and counting down even as he watched—eight seconds to go—seven.
His thoughts ran faster than his gloved hand as it slammed for the Abort key.
Seven seconds—the plates at the end of the smelter would be preparing to open.
Six—the apprentices inside were out of their suits and would take minutes to get back into them.
Five—the countdown had not stopped, they would be blown out with the rush of escaping air.
Four—his friends would all die in the naked vacuum of space.
Rick stared, close to hysteria, as the changing digits kept counting down. At last they froze. Three seconds. The override light went out. And then Jigger Tait was standing next to him, his breathing—or was it Rick's own?—harsh and rattling over the suit radio.
Higher Education Page 22
