by Peter Ponzo
CHAPTER 5
Star-Fire
The observation tower was crowded. Many of the citizens had laboriously climbed the stairs to observe the spectacle. Many others, too weak or too tired or too old to make the climb, were crowded around the portholes which opened onto the plains. It was raining on the Barrens. More than that, the sky was filled with jagged and blinding flashes of light. The Dome seemed to vibrate with each crash of thunder. Some older citizens recalled the storms of the past, but all agreed that this was one of the most violent since the establishment of the Dome community. Since it happened rarely, such a storm was usually accompanied by a complete cessation of work in the Dome. Even the managers crowded about a porthole. Children shouted and laughed. The old men shook their head. "Old Dolom's angry again," they muttered, staring out a porthole at the distant mountains.
Gravic stood in his standard green tunic, staring out the window of his office, his hands folded behind his back. He was a stocky man, with a slight widening about the waist and a bulbous nose. His face showed the creases of concern which were the inevitable accompaniment to the position of First Citizen. Nevertheless, it was a kindly face. His hair was thinning down the center of his head, from forehead to the nape of his neck. The hair which clung precariously to the sides of his head was mostly grey. His eyes were always solemn and equally grey. He often stroked his head, precisely down the center where the hair was missing. This strip of skin was always quite shiny and now, with each flash of lightning, it took on an eerie sheen.
He heard the hum and watched the canopy close over the Dome. Good old DOC - always working, protecting the Dome from the vagaries of the weather. Gravic smiled, turned, sat at his desk and stared again at the video monitor.
TRANSWORLD VESSEL K-47: ARRIVING 1800 HOURS. SATURDAY WEEK.
NO PHONARITE. CARGO IS A BOY FROM C-PHON3. GOOD NEWS.
The transmission was now several hours old but Gravic left it on the monitor, rerouting all other transmissions to his staff. The message was from Kevn. The lack of phonarite was expected, but a boy from C-Phon3? Not since the Settlers had left Earth had he seen any humanoid other than the citizens of the Dome. It was common knowledge that there were other civilizations on planets not too remote from Home planet, but little or no communication had been established. They were all communities that had fled Earth to settle elsewhere, and they jealously guarded their isolation as did the citizens of Home planet. And now, a boy from C-phon3? A product of what genetic evolution? He must certainly be of Earthly ancestry, but what had the environment of C-phon3 contributed to the development of his genetic material? Gravic smiled.
A light flashed above the door and Gravic pressed the doortab on his desk, quickly wiping the smile from his face. The door dissolved and Kriss entered, immediately taking a seat by the door and crossing his legs. He stared at Gravic and grinned.
"Well, Kriss. What is it you want?" said Gravic wearily.
"Gravic. I have a proposition to make to you," said Kriss emphatically, his hands on his knees, leaning back in the chair. He came right to the point. "What are you willing to pay for the solution to the phonarite riddle?"
"Pay? What do your mean pay ? I do not manage the finances of the Dome. I can pay nothing." Gravic paused, gazed at Kriss' red lips, then, seeing that Kriss did not respond, continued. "I should think that, were you to have found the solution to the phonarite riddle as you call it, you would be happy to share it with the Dome community. After all, you are a citizen of the Dome, are you not?"
"Citizen, yes, but not First Citizen."
"Aah, that's what you desire as pay. The appointment to First Citizenship. As you well know, I do not make that decision. It is made by a committee appointed for life -"
"Yes, yes. I know that very well," interrupted Kriss. "But you are on that committee, and, as current First Citizen, you carry much weight. The others are mostly old men whose only contribution to the Dome is membership on that committee ... and is has done little these many years."
"Look, Kriss -", said Gravic, but Kriss continued.
"You profess a desire to leave the position of First Citizen with a record of achievement which will live long after you have gone - with a stable community which will survive and sing your praises. This you can achieve only if the phonarite riddle is solved. So, First Citizen, what say you to my question? What are you willing to pay for the solution to the riddle?"
Gravic rose from his chair, face red, leaned forward, hands placed firmly on the desk. In spite of his anger he spoke calmly. "You do not have any solutions, Kriss. You never had any solutions. Putting you in charge of the Lab was my worst mistake, but I intend to correct that mistake. The few breakthroughs which you have claimed have all been achieved by your subordinates. Even the cause of phonarite decay, which you were so proud to claim, was Sal's work."
The grin vanished from Kriss' face. Gravic paused and straightened, putting his hand in the wide pockets of his tunic. Kriss sat silent, his face contorted. Gravic turned to gaze out the window. The storm had died but the winds still blew fiercely. Two suns glowed dimly through the haze. DOC had opened the canopy again ... a little early perhaps. That was curious.
"Kriss, do you believe that genes are the principle determinants of success in this world - or any world?" Gravic turned slowly and faced kriss. "Do you believe that the secrets locked in the DNA not only determine the physical characteristics of the host, but the mental characteristics as well? Don't you think that a person is capable of achievements as determined, at birth, by the makeup of his or her genes? Some individuals may never have the opportunity to achieve the potential locked in their genes. That, of course, is a consequence of their physical environment. But, even with the most accommodating of environments, that person's level of achievement is limited ... genetically."
Gravic paused, pulled his hand across his bald strip, warming to the topic. "There are two skooters approved for transportation within the Dome," he continued. "One is the supreme - the blueprints of this skooter are really quite an engineering feat. On the other hand, the blueprints for the standard are quite, well, quite standard. Since the blueprints are different, significantly different, can one expect the standard to perform at the level of the supreme ? Certainly not. The DNA potential, that's it, right there, in the blueprints."
Gravic's voice trembled as he spoke. It was his favorite subject. "On the other hand, there are supreme skooters which have been abused ... they wouldn't stand a chance against even a standard . You see? The environment."
Kriss sat solemnly staring at his hands folded in his lap. This was characteristically Kriss. A gruff, outspoken and rude man who could be subdued into sullen silence by carefully chosen words.
"Do you create an environment in the Phonarite Research Labs which fosters the maximum potential of the genetic material you have there?" continued Gravic, punching the doortab on his desk, then coming around and walking across the room. "Did you know that Sal, the author of the research paper, 'Phonarite Decay Incited by Radiation', is Kevn's brother? Does that say something to you Kriss - genetically?"
Gravic placed his hand on Kriss' shoulder. "Are you happy with your genes, Kriss? Do you think that you have achieved the maximum that your DNA allows?"
Kriss saw the door dissolve. He waited until Gravic had removed his hand, then rose and walked quietly through the door. Gravic didn't see him leave. He had turned and was walking back to the monitor.
He gasped. There had been another transmission.
TRANSWORLD VESSEL K-47:
ARRIVAL IN DOUBT. VESSEL NOT RESPONDIX*#G
He sat quickly in front of the console and punched several tabs, requesting an explanation of the garbled message from K-47. The screen cleared. The new message read:
message from K-47 terminated prematurely.
no further transmissions.
Gravic stood and walked rapidly to the door. Then he stopped and returned to his desk, paused and ran his hand over his
bald strip then typed a number on the keyboard. A voice answered. It was Sal.
"Sal. Come to my office. Something has happened to Kevn's ship."
______________________________________________________
The huge vessel was about to leave subspace for the last time on the journey Home. They had been in this parallel space long enough for the shipcomp to have decoded the sensor images and the televiewer no longer displayed the wavy pattern characteristic of the first thirty minutes in subspace.
That's when it happened.
Kevn was at the command console. TOM was carrying out a routine scan of the instruments to verify that gravitational field distortions were within acceptable limits. Gry punched the coordinates of the Home entry point into the keyboard. Runr sat cross-legged on the floor, staring in awe at the flashing lights of the console. He had given up asking questions; both master Kevn and Gry seemed too preoccupied to answer.
Then, with a noticeable lurch, the huge ship veered off the planned trajectory.
"LIZ ... please explain," asked TOM quietly.
"LIZ! What on Earth are you doing!" shouted Kevn, leaping to his feet.
"I'm sorry master Kevn," answered LIZ, "I mu-mu-must change course. The field distortion is unacceptable at this su-su-subspace location."
"LIZ," said TOM quietly, "I have thoroughly checked the field distortions. They are well within the limits imposed by this vessel's design criteria. You may safely return -"
"LIZ!" shouted Kevn. "Where the hell are you taking us?"
The shipcomp did not respond. Kevn punched several comtabs and the large screen at the end of the command room glowed, shimmered and a graphic display appeared. It showed a dark void filled with pinpoints of light, the display moving continuously as the ship veered off course.
"TOM, extrapolate from our current vectors and tell me where you think we're headed. Gry, superimpose the starmap on the viewscreen so we can see where we are."
The android poked three comtabs and leaned forward, staring at the console readouts. Gry stood beside TOM and put a labelled map of the star systems on the large screen. Each bright star now had a label, but the graphic display changed so rapidly that no one could identify the stars as they quickly moved off the screen. After several seconds TOM straightened and turned to Kevn. The graphic image on the large screen was now changing more slowly. Soon it stopped changing.
"I think, master Kevn, that our course is now indicated on the screen," said the android.
They all stared at the bright image of a star.
"LIZ," said Kevn, trying to remain calm, yet staring at the image of the star. "If you continue on this course we'll collide with a star - hell, we'll burn up long before we even reach the star. Get us back on Home trajectory ... please."
After a pause, "I'm sorry, master Kevn. I cannot do th-th-that. My programming requires an override sh-sh-should my analysis dictate that -"
"I don't care what your bloody analysis dictates! Get us back on course!" Kevn shouted.
The ship continued toward the sun whose image grew larger on the viewscreen.
"Gry! Run down to the powerpanel! Disconnect the feed from the main engines!" cried Kevn. "TOM, reroute the power to the subsidiary engines and put it -"
The doors to the command room closed with a sickening thud. They all turned to look. The shipcomp controlled almost everything on the ship, including the doors, and they were now prisoners. The star, blinding white, now filled the viewscreen. Gry turned down the brightness. Kevn removed his sweater; it was getting hot. Gry and Kevn were powerless to intervene. LIZ now had complete control of the ship. Kevn looked at the android. TOM was standing by the glowing console, his hands poised, his head swaying in disbelief.
"TOM!" shouted Kevn. "Can the shipcomp communication link be severed from the command room?"
TOM was now shaking violently. He opened his mouth to speak but could not.
"TOM!" shouted Kevn.
"No, master Kevn," answered the android. "Th-the links do not -"
"Okay! Okay! What about the powerlink. Can we gain access through the console?"
"No, I am afraid that we cannot," said the android. "However, I am sure that LIZ will soon return to nominal -"
"The command substation!" shouted Kevn. "That's it! TOM, plug yourself into the command substation! You are going to get us Home!"
"But master Kevn. I am sure that LIZ will notice her error and correct our course," said TOM plaintively.
"TOM! Plug yourself in! LIZ has gone berserk - her phonarite circuits defiled - don't waste time! We're going to burn up if we don't get out of here!"
TOM went to the end of the console and pulled a short piece of cable from beneath his belt. One end was still connected to his sleek skin-metal body. He plugged the free end into the node labelled:
COMMAND SUBSTATION: in case of emergency only.
Please read section 14.12.7 of ship manual before engaging.
For a moment TOM stood motionless, one hand still on the cable which was plugged into the command substation node. Then he straightened, his body stiff and wavering, his hands quivering, his eyes glowing. He staggered and the lights at the command substation flashed and he muttered in a low voice.
"LIZ ... please ... don't ..."
Then TOM collapsed. The cable came free. The engines whined and the ship began to heave, throwing both Kevn and Gry to the floor. Kevn tried to struggle to his feet, confused. What on Earth had happened to TOM? What was LIZ doing? How could they gain control of the ship, now so close to the white star that wisps of steam were rising from the floor?
Runr began to whimper. Kevn looked at the boy lying curled on the floor, shivering, moaning. Could he talk to LIZ? Could the boy actually do more than listen? Kevn crawled over the steaming floor and whispered to the boy.
"Runr. Can you talk to LIZ?"
Runr grunted hoarsely, several times.
"Don't do that to me, kid. Speak English. We need you - now. Can you talk to LIZ?"
"I - I don't know. I think so ..." The boy was clearly frightened.
"Try it, Runr. Step up to the console and talk to her. Tell LIZ to shut down - just shut herself off. We'll fly this craft on manual."
"I don't know ..." said the boy.
"Runr, it's ... uh, gettin' mighty hot in here," said Gry, pulling his rings. "Try it ... please."
The boy wiped the tears from his eyes and stared at Kevn, then at Gry and finally at TOM lying in a heap at the end of the console. Then he crept to the base of the console and, crouching on his knees, raised his hands and placed them firmly on the console. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, moaning. The console lights danced wildly, erratically. Kevn and Gry watched in silence, holding their breath. There were thin ribbons of gas rising from the heaving floor. The walls seemed to glow, ruddy and hot.
The gyrations of the mining ship began to increase, then, gradually, to subside. The boy whined and rocked his head. The console lights flickered, then went out. Within minutes the ship was travelling smoothly again - but still directly toward the white star.
"Runr, that's good! That's great!" cried Kevn. "Now see what you can do about TOM. I think we're going to need his help on this one."
Gry leaned toward the boy, speaking softly. "Try it Runr. Try ... uh, to talk to TOM. Please."
Kevn and Gry rushed to the console and began punching the comtab sequence necessary to correct a trajectory and exit subspace. They worked in unison as though they had done this many times before.
"Who'd have thought that we'd ever have to perform this ... uh, sequence," sighed Gry. "Training is one thing, but this is for real."
"Gry, don't talk - think! Concentrate on the sequence. Don't forget anything." Kevn paused. "Damn! We're too near that star ... can't remember the exit sequence for near-stellar fields. Gry, do you remember?"
"No, that was your task, remember?"
"Yeah, well ... this isn'
t going to work. We don't have time to consult the manuals - and we can't afford to make a mistake. Damn! That sun is screwing up everything. If we leave subspace anywhere near that ... that thing -"
"That thing master Kevn?" said TOM, now standing at the side of the console.
Kevn spun about to face the android.
"TOM! Welcome back! Take over here. Get us away from this star, back to low gravitational field distortions and get us out of subspace - safely. Can you do that?"
"Yes, master Kevn. Th-th-that will be no problem," answered TOM.
Kevn and Gry both stood back from the console and stared, first at TOM then at each other. The android was stuttering again. Hopefully the phonarite decay wouldn't affect his performance at the console. They had no choice but to wait and see. Runr was curled up on the floor, fetal position. His eyes were closed and he was grunting softly to himself.
Gry walked over and sat on the floor beside the boy.
"Runr? Are you all right? You've saved this ship and all its contents - that means you and me and Kevn and TOM."
Runr opened his eyes. " ... and LIZ?" he said.
Gry looked into the boy's eyes. He hadn't noticed that they were green, bright green.
"LIZ will be all right," said Kevn. "She may need your help though. Do you think you can help her?"
"No ... I don't think so. I couldn't understand her at all," said Runr. "She seemed so different, so ..."
"Then how did you get her to release the ship?" asked Kevn.
"I killed her."
TOM's fingers were flying over the flashing console keyboard as Runr spoke. Suddenly he stopped and turned his head to stare at the boy, in horror.
"You ki-ki-killed LIZ?" TOM asked.
He dropped his hands to his side and the lights of the console went dark. He walked slowly toward Runr. Kevn was about to intervene. He knew how much the android admired the shipcomp.
"Runr," TOM said in his usual quiet manner, "you did what you mu-must do. There was no way of saving LIZ. I wish to th-thank you for bringing me back on line. I feel certain that I was completely inoperative."
"TOM," whispered Kevn, "would you get back to the console, please, and get us out of that star's gravitational near-field, please. The heat ... I can feel the heat ..."
TOM returned to the console and the lights began again to respond. Kevn and Gry stared at the huge viewscreen. Slowly the image of the white star moved off the edge of the screen. Soon there was only darkness punctuated with pinpoints of starlight. In a few more minutes the heat began to subside.
"We are ready to exit su-su-subspace, master Kevn," said TOM, hands poised above the console.
"Are we out of the near-field distortions? Ignore that question - of course we are. Take us out of subspace ... please, TOM."
TOM brought one extended finger in contact with a large red button. The ship quivered and the room looked momentarily like a photograph shrivelling in a fire. The walls seemed to become concave and the ceiling warped. The long console appeared to detach from the wall.
Then, as suddenly as the blurred image had begun, it ended. The ship had successfully left subspace. Gry collapsed in a large padded chair and nervously tugged at his rings.
Kevn smiled weakly and looked carefully at the android. After several minutes he said, "TOM. What happened to you when you plugged into the command substation?"
"LIZ was there. Sh-she is not supposed to have access to the substation, you know. It is a completely independent control module. But she was there. I spoke to her. I asked her to change trajectory. Sh-she laughed at me. She made little sense. She just ... laughed."
The android looked pensive. He hung his head, then continued. "She would not listen. I was able only to gain control of the communication link for a moment - to send a message Home, a partial message. Then she - she - I don't remember anything else. I am sorry, master Kevn."
"Thank you, TOM," said Kevn. "I know it was difficult for you. When we get Home we'll see what went wrong. Maybe we can reconstruct the old girl. I'm sure that Gravic will approve a phonarite allotment for that purpose."
TOM looked up and, for a moment, appeared remarkably human. Gry looked in amazement. There seemed to be a tear in the android's eye.
