by Phoenix Ship
They both laughed, but Stan thought there was still a hollow sound behind that laugh.
VIII
TIME. Time was the factor both at the Ace Yards and in the rim area at Belt City where Lang and Stan were putting forty of ATs top gold-belters through a system of study that was more strenuous than any of them had ever thought he could attempt.
Weed had almost laughed when Stan brought him the list of the gold-belters that he wanted prioritied to his project; had spent long hours using the strongest command techniques he could dream up, but Stan had been adamant, and the theory of the "stronger loyalty of the trust I hold" overrode the other's objections.
"He's getting his money's worth in loyalties from the Belters," Stan told Lang grimly. "The propaganda's working. But I don't think hell let the gold belts I've picked actually take off with the Phoenix. Not without a fight. I guess that gives us the timing of whatever move he plans against us."
Retraining the gold-belters was a touchy question in itself. That they were being questioned in their off-hours by Weed and his gang, Stan was sure. Therefore they could not be allowed to know what was being done, nor why; nor could the hypnotic commands themselves be touched, for those would be specifically tested. They could not be touched until after they were aboard the Phoenix. Not even in Paulsen.
What they could do was reclaim the straight educational information the students had been fed, put it under the students' own control. So the schooling this time was thorough, but of an opposite form to what they'd had before. The gold-belters were put through a system of personalized study as intense as it could be made; and the testing that ended each day demanded of each facts from the areas in which he'd been studying that day, brought out in questions which were designed to draw on background facts that had been molecularly transplanted into their memories during the old schooling. Over and over Lang insisted, "Give us as much background information as possible with your answers."
Only in Sandra could the hypnotic commands be pulled and canceled; but the work with Sandra was sufficient to make Stan and Lang feel sure they had the techniques by which it could be done for all the students as soon as it was safe to do so.
Between trying to resolve the technical details at the school and the technical details at the yard, Stan felt as though he was putting himself through a course of study more intense than he'd ever attempted in his own education.
Once he carefully invited one of the gold-belters that he knew to be questioned by Weed to go with him to the Phoenix. "I've got to go over her stem to stem," he told the man. "Want to go along?"
The idea had worried Tobey, but it worked out as Stan had hoped. "He's got the preconceived notion that we're K-class powered. He won't be looking for a drive. He won't see it."
As it worked out, the man obviously looked at the obvious, unobtrusively looked for the unobvious, and asked questions that were intelligent enough, but that could be answered quite truthfully. By the time they reached the nose, Stan quit worrying and could put his own attention on an actual inspection for himself.
Time. The three months originally predicted passed, and the work went on. Two more months passed, and although everybody was at stretch, both jobs nearing completion, the work was not done. Then in the middle of the sixth month, Stan got Tobey on a tight beam channel.
"Tobey," he said, choosing his words with care, "it's gotta be go. Now. Say, three days."
Tobey chewed his hp. Then, "Yeah," he said. "I'm getting the signals too. Okay, it's go. Three days. Make it seventy-two hours from now."
"Right. And, Tobey, clear your crew from the B for baby crew area as of now. And seal it off from the A and C areas, but leave the corridors from the locks and officers' country open."
Tobey raised one eyebrow quizzically, but all he said was "Right," and without another word Stan signed off. Then he called Paulsen up to the monitor's desk from which he was supervising the work going on in forty cubicles.
"Is the Sassy Lassie fueled?" he asked, knowing that it was.
"Sure, boss," said Paulsen.
"Fine. So is my Erika Three. I'm canceling classes. Can you lift twenty-two out to Ace Yards?"
"When?Now? Give me a couple of hours to get food aboard and duffel..."
"No food. No duffel. Right now. The Phoenix is just twelve hours from here."
"Fourteen with a load like that"
"Fourteen hours from here. Our gold belts have never seen her. Thought we'd just jaunt over and take a look. You take Dr. Lang and half the class. Ill take Sandra and the other half."
"Just jaunt over, take a look and jaunt back? Thought you'd wait until we were ready to move aboard, then spend a couple of weeks aboard familiarizing."
"Yeah." Stan leaned back in the monitor's seat relaxed and smiling. "That's what I plan. But a looksee in the meantime ... I don't know. I figure they're getting a little stale and a little impatient A jaunt out there would break the monotony. Where you tied up?"
"Tube one-eleven."
"Okay. Don't even tell them where we're going. Let it be a surprise. Call them all in here, cancel all classes. I'll order up enough strut-cars, and we'll take off."
Stan, with his half of the class, reached the Phoenix first, sent Sandra to the bridge, the gold-belters along to Common Room B.
Having seen that his part of the class was safely in the common room, Stan stationed himself by the nest assigned to the Sassy Lassie. As soon as that ship was maglocked in, he made his way through the air locks.
"Turn off all circuits now," he told Paulsen.
Paulsen started to obey in reflex, then his hand hesitated on the switch. "Hadn't I better leave her on standby?" he asked.
"Not this time," said Stan in a voice of authority, and before Paulsen could object further he'd pulled himself back out of the air lock into the corridor.
When Katsu Lang and Paulsen, with the first of the gold-belters immediately behind them, pulled through into the corridor, Stan was waiting.
"Dr. Lang," he said, "you go on through to the bridge. Sandra's waiting for you there. Paulsen, you and your men gather in Common Room B. It's right down that corridor," he said, pointing.
Then he waited again until the last of the gold-belters was into the corridor before turning and cluing the bulkhead behind them, activating bolts that would seal it off until someone released them from the bridge. Following the men, now, to the common room assigned them, he quickly counted to be sure they were all there, then climbed on a table, gesturing for them to gather around him.
"We are leaving," he told them firmly, "almost immediately." There was an instant clamor, which he silenced with a raised hand. "We will have two weeks on board to become familiar with how this ship works. By the time we reach Jupiter orbit, we will either know that we have around us a good sound ship and a good working crew, or that we should turn back. I have no intention of turning back," he added. Then, "If we win, we will be opening a colonly about the size of Earth's moon, and our next step will be the stars. If we lose—well, that won't mean much to anybody but us.
"I brought you aboard by surprise," he said into a quiet that was the first reaction to shock, "because we have enemies. Those enemies will try to stop us. You are aboard and will stay aboard. I will talk to you again before we go under thrust."
With that he jumped down from the table and made his way to the bulkhead toward officers' country. He had crossed the bulkhead and secured it behind him before anyone had recovered sufficiently to try to stop him.
Now they were locked in. The best brains of AT kidnapped right out from under Weed's nose and secured in a nickel-steel prison in space.
Stan reached the bridge to find Tobey and two of his crew waiting with Sandra and Katsu Lang.
"Have you got two men who can handle a K-class?" Stan asked Tobey without preliminary.
"Any one of us can, Star," Tobey answered.
"Okay. Put them on the Erika and the Sassy Lassie. We've got to use them to swing the Phoenix so she
's at right angles to the yard. We may have to take off on own drive power, and I don't want to crisp the docks."
Tobey looked at him quizzically. "I just got word that our fourteen K-class are on their way," he said. "I gather ETA about eight hours."
"In that case, let's get the Phoenix swung just as fast as we can. It may take a few hours to position her right, and I want her swung and the men onboard before those K's arrive."
"You really think Weed will make a move to take over the ship instead of letting us take off?" Lang asked.
Stan looked at the Mentor in surprise. "Of course. He's got to. He's not planning to lose his forty top goldiesl He'd do it even to keep from losing Tobey's crew, but it hasn't occurred to him they're vulnerable.
"No," Stan went on, "he's got to make his move now. We took him by surprise, loading the belters aboard, and he's off balance, but hell move. I expect those fourteen K's are loaded to the gills with soldiers, and we'll be in the middle of a first-class war in about eight hours.
"But meantime, Dr. Lang, you and Sandra can start setting up Common Room A for the de-hypnosis techniques. You can't start the actual work until after the war, but, assuming we win, I can free up a few men then to help you. You can get the place ready now, and you'll have two weeks on the way to Jupiter to do the job."
When the fourteen K-class ships showed, flying a tight pattern, it was Tobey himself who talked them into the nests, assigning each one its berth and berthing time, yak-king informally but with authority to the pilots, screening each one of them as he gave them instructions, and getting each one into a pattern of communication as he worked.
As the third ship magnalocked in, he switched his screen off and spoke to Stan, who was carefully out of range of the video.
"The pilots are alone in the control cabins," he said, "but I rather think you're right that there are other men aboard. Probably fifteen to twenty per ship."
Stan grinned crookedly. "It's a fair bet there are," he said.
"And, Star . . . these men are Earthies. There's not a Belter pilot aboard."
"Oh?" Stan paused. "You sure?"
"Hell no, I'm not sure," Tobey said. "But I'd lay odds on it."
Stan nodded. Then said, "If you can spot the command ship, bring it in last."
"I think I've got it spotted, and it even seems to be maneuvering to be last in. Okay."
Paulsen switched the screen back on and the process of talking the ships in continued. As the last ship was berthed there was a long pause, then Tobey's screen lighted to show the pilot of the final ship.
"Control officer," the man said grimly, "the locks aren't opening. What is the problem?"
Tobey raised his head to the screen as though from concentrated effort. "I don't know," he- said. "I was just trying to find out. I seem to be having some trouble with the magnalock system."
"Well, get it fixed and let us out," the voice said sternly.
Tobey left the screen on while he busied himself over the control console, biting on his lips in a gesture of vexation. Then he turned again to the screen.
"Have your pilots shut down all circuits for a minute," he said. "I'm going to send a power surge through the magnalock system to see if I can free it, but it might be enough to blow a weak circuit in a ship, and it'd be better if they were off."
"Who are vnn?" the man on the screen dem^ndM fiercely.
Tobey looked at him in surprise. "Tobev Olsen." he said finally. "Supervisor of the Ace Yards. Who are you?"
"Is Dustin aboard?" the man asked.
Tobey raised one eyebrow as though considering whether to obiect to the brusque treatment, then shrugged his shoulders. "I believe Mr. Dustin is with h's crew a"^ scientific personnel. They are"—his voice held a verv light sarcasm—"familiarizing themselves with the shin. If it will make you happier, I can have him called to the bridge."
"No. No, leave him to his toys. Very well. I'll have my men come off standby for a minute."
"Fine." said Tobey. "I'll give it a shot. If that doesn't work. 111 have to send a man down to open the locks man-uallv."
There was a pause while the pilot on the screen spoke into an intercom system. Then, "Very well. Olsen. All ships except this one have shut down, and I'm doing so now." There was a click and the screen went blank.
Instantly Tobev threw the switch that would send a surge of one hundred thousand gauss through each of the magna-locks to which the ships were joined—enough locking energy to hold the ships against a ten-G thrust; and enough stray magnetism to prevent the operation of anv radio or electric motor on board. The fourteen K*s were locked on, silenced, frozen in place, and helpless.
Then Tobey turned to Stan. "Your birds are secure. Star," he said. "Sure you don't want to just leave them aboard their ships? For a little, anyhow, until they learn who's boss?"
"No," said Stan. "Best we continue the operating procedure and get them the hejl out of our wav." Talong his seat at his own console, he activated a screen in the corridor outisde the locks. Tobey's twenty men were standing there, fully armed and at the ready.
Tobey had already activated his own screen and was speaking to his men. "Looks like what we've got aboard those ships is about twenty Earthie soldiers per," he said. "Think you can handle 'em?"
He was greeted with a roar of pleasure.
"Okay," he said. "Start with Lock Two. And boys," he added, "leave lock one-forty-four until last That one's got the command personnel aboard."
Stan watched, forcing back the tension that threatened to keep him from a clear head, as Tobey's crew began hand-manipulating the inner lock. This one they opened all the way, then five of them disappeared within. The outer lock would be opened only far enough for one man to squeeze through, according to plan, and ...
He could hear shouts and mumblings and a long time passed, but finally one man stumbled out of the lock into the arms of the waiting crew, followed a minute later by a small arsenal of personal weapons. The man was frisked again in the corridors, then shoved toward C section by one of Tobey's men, who held a gun to his back. Watching the man closely, Stan realized that Tobey had been right: these men were Earthies. He wasn't sure just what small clues gave the man away, but the Earthie background showed plainly.
Another followed, and another. It was a slow process.
When fifteen had come through, one of the crewmen came out and called toward the screen: "They say that's all of them."
"Don't believe it," Tobey answered. "Tell the rest they've got just three minutes to come out, then we're going to sleep-gas their ship and seal it They'll be there for at least two weeks, if they want to spend that long in suits."
There was a pause, and Tobey began timing it At the end of the three minutes he called again: "Come on out, boys. Then sleep-gas that one and seal it."
Emptying the second ship was a similar task, but it seemed to go faster. Tobey's crew was getting familiar with the operation. There were sixteen out this time before word came that that was alL
This time Tobey changed his command. "Take the last man out of that ship, send him into the other to see that we meant what we said. Then send him back for any more men that may be in his ship."
The last man out disarmed and disheveled from a thorough search for small arms, was brought up, given a low pressure suit and a diox shot and the lock on the first was unsealed. Five crewmen disappeared into the lock with him. Several minutes passed, then the Earthie came running from the lock, holding his arm, followed shortly by the five crewmen. One addressed the screen while the others sealed the lock.
"They thought he was one of us," Tobey was told succinctly. "They shot at him."
"Good." Tobey's voice was grim. "Now send that man back into his own ship, and let him tell them the story."
Shortly, from the second lock, men began appearing again, until the ship had disgorged twenty. When word came that that was all, Tobey instructed his men to use the wounded man as a shield, and go in to search the ship. It was all clear.
>
It took hours, but the crews came out, until they reached the final ship.
"Before you tackle that one," Tobey instructed, lines of strain showing around his grim mouth, "have one of the men from the first crew write a note. Get it shoved through the lock to the men in the first ship. See if they want to take advantage of a final offer, or if they prefer to stay where they are at our convenience, which will be a long time coming."
This time the remaining five men capitulated, and the only ship still unsealed was that one nested in 144.
"Now," said Tobey, "bring out the wounded man from that second ship. He's had first aid? Good. Send him through, alone, into the command ship, and have him explain the situation. If they want to capitulate, they can come out the way the others have—one at a time. If not, they stay where they are, and we sleep-gas the ship."
The man went in and the minutes passed. It seemed to Stan that time stood still. The inner lock on the 144 stood open; five of Tobey's crew were inside the lock. The outer lock was, presumably open enough to admit one man.
Finally the wounded man came out, was searched and sent on to Area C. Stan found himself holding his breath until a second man came out and the former process was on again.
The twentieth man out this time was in full Earth uniform, and Stan caught his breath as the men of Tobey's crew turned him this way and that, searching him as thoroughly as the others but, Stan noted, with a care that showed a deference for his insignia.
It was the general, Stan realized. The general that he had met once before, in Professor Mallard's office in the school on Earth.
"Bring the general to the bridge," he heard himself saying.
IX
THE GENERAL was seated on the far side of the desk from Stan; Tobey's man, JarL was lounging in the doorway with a stun gun, where he could keep a close eye on him. Tobey himself was seated against the wall.
If the general noticed the guard he gave no indication; he merely began to raise the hand that held a signet ring, to place it ^n the desk where Stan could see it. Stan let his own eyes follow it. Then, in a voice of authority, the general spoke: "I, the trainer, speak. You obey."
