Between the Strokes of Night

by Charles Sheffield

  The mechanical voices chimed in one after another. Ward Lunga, ship’s pilot, lay quietly in the suspense tank. He was watching the displays, chatting to co-pilot Celia Deveny and listening with half an ear to the robotic checklist. Full attention was unnecessary. Anomalies would be separately flagged and reported to them.

  “T MINUS 180 SECONDS, COUNTDOWN PROCEEDING,” said the voice.

  “ — MECHANICAL SYSTEM CHECKS COMPLETE.”

  The starship Manta floated in stable orbit about Sol, hovering at a Saturnian Trojan Point. Final countdown for departure was nearly complete.

  The nav displays showed a thrust profile that would carry the Manta from the middle Solar System direct to Gulf City, twenty-eight light-years away. The ship still floated in freefall, but in three S-minutes that would be changed to an accelerated outbound trajectory.

  “ELECTRICAL AND ELECTRONIC SYSTEMS CHECK COMPLETE.”

  “ — FUEL MASS CHECK COMPLETE.”

  The final few hundred million tons of fuel had now been transferred; the mobile tank was swinging away under robot control toward Sol.

  “ANOMALY! CARGO PORT ANOMALY,” said a voice suddenly. “CARGO PORT SEVEN OPEN.” Lunga grunted in surprise. “Damn. All that cargo should have been in and secured by now. Command: display Port Seven.”

  Two views of Cargo Port Seven showed on the displays. Lunga looked at them closely. “Bloody thing looks shut to me. Everything else reports normal — see anything odd there, Celia?”

  “Not a thing.” She threw a pair of switches. “Command: repeat status check, Cargo Port Seven.”

  “CARGO PORT SEVEN CONDITION: CLOSED AND NORMAL. ALL CARGO DELIVERY PODS MOVING NOW TO SAFE RANGE. ALL CARGO SECURE AND BALANCED.”

  “ — T MINUS 120 SECONDS, COUNTDOWN PROCEEDING.”

  “ — TRANSITION TO COLD SLEEP BEGINS IN THIRTY SECONDS UNLESS ALTERNATE SIGNAL PROVIDED TO CENTRAL CONTROL.”

  Ward Lunga’s finger hovered over the button. He hesitated. Unless he took action in the next half minute, the system would initiate the crew’s descent from S-space to cold sleep. “Command: repeat all checks and report any anomalies in condition.”

  There was a fraction of a second’s pause. “ALL CHECKS REPEATED. NO ANOMALIES OBSERVED, ALL SYSTEMS ARE READY FOR FLIGHT DEPARTURE.”

  “ — T MINUS 100 SECONDS, COUNTDOWN PROCEEDING.”

  Lunga moved his hand away from the abort button. He took a last look at the displays, then lay back full-length in the suspense chamber. He started to sit up again, then changed his mind and allowed his body to relax in the tank. The gentle hissing of vapors that would initiate the first phase for cold sleep was already beginning. Time to let the computers and the robots take over, and wake again at Gulf City…

  Outside the tank, three figures flickered through the interior of Manta. Peron, Sy, and Elissa were moving cautiously, but to an observer in S-space they went too fast for the eye to follow. The two-hundred-meter length of the ship from cargo hold to control room was traversed in less than an eighth of an S-second, in a flashing blur too rapid for comprehension. The biggest obstacle to even greater speed was the service robots, trundling haphazardly along in their assigned tasks at a slow walking speed.

  Ninety-nine S-seconds before launch, they were standing outside the suspense chamber. As a first priority, there must be enough spare tanks to accommodate three extra travellers in cold sleep. If not, there was still time to recall a cargo pod and make their exit from the Manta.

  “T MINUS NINETY SECONDS” — the three intruders were now familiar with all the main controls of the ship, had assured themselves of the ship’s immediate destination, and confirmed the trip travel time to the fraction of a second. “T MINUS EIGHTY SECONDS” — after a meal and a four-hour rest period, Sy, Elissa and Peron adjusted the cold sleep settings for the ship’s crew and prepared three unoccupied suspense tanks.

  “T MINUS SEVENTY SECONDS” — Sy sent coded messages to Kallen, Lum and Rosanne, one to Earth and one to Paradise, explaining what was happening.

  “How confident are you that they’ll know there’s a hidden signal?” asked Peron. “If Kallen receives it, no question.” Sy had smiled grimly. “Sometimes I think he’s as smart as I am. If they can’t find a way to follow us, I expect they’ll send us a message. Want to bet on it with me?”

  “Not today.”

  “T MINUS SIXTY SECONDS” — every contingency had been checked. Now it was time to settle into their cold sleep chambers, next to the crew members.

  “These tanks are set to wake us one S-minute before arrival at Gulf City,” said Peron. “They’ll still be asleep. Sy, are you sure you changed the deceleration profile so that we’ll be in freefall when we wake?”

  “Trust me.”

  Peron lay in his suspense tank; for the thousandth time his mind ran over the same event sequence. The three of them had reviewed it together until it was totally familiar to each of them.

  Arrival time minus one S-minute: They would wake in normal space during the ship’s final approach to Gulf City. One S-minute would give them a little more than one normal day for possible changes to final plans. The Immortals in Gulf City should be in S-space, and unable to formulate a timely response. Arrival in Gulf City; next came control of the service robots. Control of Gulf City itself would follow.…

  The cold sleep vapors were hissing about him, and he could feel the cool and unpleasant touch of catheters on his arms and chest. Nothing more to be done now, except to sleep; and wake at Gulf City.

  Peron closed his eyes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Gulf City

  Peron opened his eyes, to the immediate knowledge that something had gone terribly wrong.

  He should have been in normal space. He was not. The blurred outlines of the objects around him, and their muted colors, told him at once that he was in S-space. And he was no longer in the snug confines of the Manta’s suspense tanks.

  He tried to sit up, but could not do it. He was secured by broad straps to the bed that supported him. Worse, he had no feeling or muscular control below the neck. He turned his head desperately from side to side and saw that Elissa lay on his right, with Sy just beyond her. Sy was already fully conscious, looking about him thoughtfully. Elissa’s eyes were just beginning to blink open. Where in Heaven’s name were they? He craned his head forward, and as he did so there was a soft whir of machinery. The bed he lay on was tilting to a semi-upright position, and he was gradually able to see more of his surroundings.

  He was in a long, gray-walled room with no windows. Bare shelves lined the walls, and the only other furnishings were three hard-backed chairs, arranged to face the beds. The whole room had a seedy look, of an area poorly maintained. On the chairs, eyeing him curiously, sat three people: a short, powerfully built man with hot, tawny eyes, and two women. One woman was black-skinned, tall, and angular, but at the same time graceful. The other was tiny, plump, and fair. Peron guessed that they were in their thirties, the man a few years younger. “Very good,” said the shorter woman unexpectedly. “All present and correct. I think we may begin.”

  Peron caught his first glimpse of her eyes, and it was like a plunge into cold water. They were brown and wide-set, and in them was a disconcerting power and intensity. He felt as though she could see right through him. The forehead above the alert eyes showed a faint but extensive pattern of fine white scars, running up into the hairline.

  “You are probably feeling quite surprised,” the woman went on. She turned her attention to Sy, and stared at him closely. He gazed back, the usual expression of cynical abstraction on his face.

  “Or maybe not,” she said at last. “But maybe a little disoriented. So let me begin by telling you that you are exactly where you wanted to be. This is Gulf City — your ‘Convergence Point,’ which I rather like as a fitting name for this location. This is also our main Headquarters. You have arrived. No longer need you imagine other gates, still to be passed through.”

  Per
on looked at Sy, but the other remained silent. He would be performing his own evaluation, and until that was complete he was unlikely to speak. “What happened?” said Peron at last. As usual in S-space, speech was a problem. And there was something in the woman’s super-confident tones that was irksome. “How did we get here?”

  “You found your own way here,” said the woman. “Everything else is of lesser importance. Jan de Vries told us about the three of you, and said you had the potential; but we were all surprised — and delighted — at how quickly you came. Only one or two people finagle their way to Gulf City every Earth-year. Three at once is a bonanza.”

  “You mean you wanted us to come?”

  “Anyone who can find the way to Gulf City is welcome. There is a natural selection process at work. If you lack the necessary qualities, you will never overcome the intellectual and physical barriers, and you will never reach this place.”

  “You were playing with us,” Peron said bitterly. He was feeling sick with the sense of failure. “Watching all our moves. When we thought we were so clever sneaking aboard the Manta, you knew we were there all along.”

  “We did not.” The woman’s voice carried conviction. “The crew of the Manta is in cold sleep recovery — they still have no idea of your presence on board their ship. Your actual departure from the Sol system also went unobserved. And you made a team of technicians there work for many weeks, eliminating the data system weaknesses that you discovered and ingeniously exploited. You walked through the Sol checkpoints and safeguards. Jan de Vries was appalled at how inadequate you made them seem. You should certainly feel no shame. But we find it expedient to employ our own security system in Gulf City. As I’m sure you know, S-space inhabitants are highly vulnerable to actions in ordinary space. We inspect all approaching ships ourselves, during deceleration, long before they are allowed to dock here.”

  Peron realized that Elissa was now fully conscious next to him, and listening intently. “Just who are you?” he said. “And what do you mean, you want us here? Why do you want us?”

  “One question at a time.” The woman smiled, and it transformed her face. She no longer looked austere and unsympathetic. “Introductions first: you are Peron of Turcanta, Elissa Morimar, and Sy Day of Burgon.” Her eyes went again to Sy, and there was another long moment of locked gazes. “The Pentecost troublemakers — but also the first people from your planet ever to reach Gulf City. My congratulations. As for us” — she touched the stocky man lightly on the shoulder — “this is Wolfgang Gibbs, Manager of Gulf City. This is Charlene Bloom, my special assistant. And I am Judith Niles.” She smiled again. “I am Director General of Gulf City, and of all Immortal operations. Lie quiet for one moment longer.”

  She moved forward and looked at their faces. Then she studied the dials set into the head of the three beds for a second or two, and nodded. “I think we can return you to free mobility. The precautions were for your sakes as much as ours. Command: release these three.”

  The straps around Peron at once went loose, and after a second he felt a painful tingling in his limbs and the return of full sensation. He slid forward and stood, making sure of his balance.

  “You are impatient for answers,” went on Judith Niles. “As I would be. Very well, we will not disappoint you. Wolfgang, will you begin the explanations and tour? Please summon me at the appropriate time.”

  She touched a setting at her belt, and vanished. A moment later Charlene Bloom was gone also. Wolfgang Gibbs stood looking quizzically at Sy, Elissa and Peron. “Well. That’s real nice.” He sniffed. “Yeah. JN says you can go free, then she and Charlene go back to work — so I have to handle you on my own when you go homicidal. All right, then, I’ll trust you. If you feel up to a little walk, we’ll take the old guided tour.”

  Wolfgang Gibbs turned casually and ambled toward the door of the room. After a single look at each other, the other three followed.

  “We could use the service robots to move us around,” Gibbs said over his shoulder. “I’d normally do that. But if we did, you’d get no feel for the Gulf City layout. Better to do it on your two feet, then you’ll know where everything is for future reference. We’ll begin with the outside.”

  “Where are you taking us?” said Elissa, falling into step at his side, while Peron and Sy trailed along behind.

  He looked at her appreciatively. To Peron’s annoyance he seemed to be making a close inspection of her face and figure. “Lookout Point. It’s the place where the galactic observations are done — the whole galaxy and beyond. We do a lot of listening and looking in Gulf City. That’s why we’re here, light-years from anywhere you’d ever choose to be. You’ll notice a lot fewer service robots here than usual, and fewer mechanical gadgets. We put up with the mess. When you’ve come all this way to find a quiet place to listen, you don’t want to clutter up the observational signals with your own electronic garbage.”

  He led the way along a radial corridor that ran for more than a kilometer outward. The size of Gulf City began to make an impression on the other three. By the time they reached Lookout Point they were moving in total silence, making mental notes of everything they saw. The whole of Gulf City was girded with antennae, telescopes, interferometers, and signal devices. Dozens of exterior ports showed the same blank white of S-space, but screens on the interior walls performed frequency conversions for display. They could observe open interstellar space as it looked at every wavelength range, from hard X-ray to million-kilometer radio waves.

  Wolfgang Gibbs paused for a long time in front of one screen. “See that?” he said at last. He tapped the display, where a faint, crablike shape showed dark against a lighter background. “That dark, spirally blob? That’s one of the main reasons we’re here at Gulf City. We’ve been watching them for fifteen thousand Earth years. I’ve been studying them myself for half that time — I came here four S-years ago, with Charlene Bloom.”

  “What are they?” asked Sy. His taciturn manner was gone, and there was a febrile excitement in his voice. “That screen shows signals at ultra-long radio frequencies — I didn’t know anything radiated there, except the Gossameres and Pipistrelles that we saw on the way to Earth.”

  Wolfgang lost his detached and casual manner. He looked hard at Sy. “Quite right, sport. We started with the same idea. But now we think half the Universe communicates on those long frequencies. Like our friend there. We call that a Kermel Object, but that’s only a name. It’s still a major mystery. We think it’s a sort of big brother to the Gossameres. They all send signals to each other, multi-kilometer wavelengths.”

  The displays showed a full three-hundred-and-sixty degree field of view. Sy moved quickly from one to another, checking for the dark, spidery shapes. “The screens show Kermel Objects in all directions,” he said. “How far away are they?”

  “Good question,” said Wolfgang. “A long way — a damned long way. We estimate the nearest one at two thousand light-years, and even that nearest one is out of the plane of our galaxy. They’re not galactic objects, generally speaking — they’re intergalactic objects. Unless you get to a quiet place like this, you can’t hope to detect them at all. Come on. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to find out more about the Kermels, but for now I want you to get the ten-cent tour. I’ll tell you one more thing, though: You’re looking at possible intelligence there — and it’s an intelligence that seems to be older than this galaxy.” He continued around the outside of Gulf City, making a circuit that was more than five kilometers long. Sy did not speak again. Elissa asked questions about everything, and Gibbs did his best to answer. Once inside Gulf City, any secrecy toward outside inquirers appeared to vanish.

  They saw billions of cubic feet of power generation equipment, and massive drives sufficient to allow Gulf City to cruise where it chose in interstellar space. Near the center of the structure there were food production facilities enough to feed tens of thousands. Most of them stood idle. According to Wolfgang Gibbs, the current pop
ulation of Gulf City approached seven hundred, though the capacity was more than ten times that.

  Finally, after showing them corridor after corridor of living accommodation, Gibbs stopped and shrugged his shoulders. “It will take you a month to see everything, but you should have enough now for a first impression. Take a break, and make yourselves comfortable here. All these suites are fully equipped. The information system will tell you most things about the city that I haven’t covered. I’ll make sure the service robots will accept your voice commands — but don’t expect instant response, we’re always short of service. We have an appointment in JN’s office in three hours. I’ll see you there.”

  “Where is that?” asked Elissa.

  “Ask the info-system if you want to go there on foot. If you’re feeling lazy, just give the command. If you want me, use the call system.” Wolfgang Gibbs winked at Elissa, manipulated a control on his belt, and vanished. * * *

  “So. What do you think?” asked Peron.

  Elissa looked up at the ceiling. They were alone at last. Sy had left them a few minutes after Wolfgang Gibbs, saying he needed time to think. Peron and Elissa had wandered for a while along the endless corridors, poking their heads into kitchens, entertainment areas, and exercise rooms. All were deserted. Finally they found a set of living quarters that appealed to them, and decided they might as well move in. Now they were lying side by side on a huge, cloud-soft floor area.

  “What do I think?” she said at last. “I think we’re being monitored.” “When in doubt, assume we are. But does it make any difference?”

  “I guess not. But I think we’re going to see sparks fly here at the next meeting. Did you notice the way that Sy and the Director General looked at each other?”

  “Judith Niles? It was hard to miss it. She’s probably used to a lot of respect. You know old Sy, he’d be rude to the devil.”

  “I told him to go easy.” Elissa laughed. “He said she was arrogant.” “Coming from Sy, that’s a bit much. What does he think he is?”