The Spheres of Heaven tmp-2

by Charles Sheffield

  “That will be fine. I’ll pick it up from there. Prepare to record.”

  READY FOR INPUT.

  Chan took a deep breath. “To General Dag Korin, from Chan Dalton. Some of my actions in the next twenty-four hours will be useless unless they are accompanied by very specific actions on your part. Let me first define my plan. I intend to proceed as follows …”

  He spoke, calmly but with numerous pauses, for the next hour. The review and revisions took even longer. By the time that Chan finished he was feeling the hunger that he had pretended to earlier. He was light-headed from lack of food. He also had to solve one other problem: how was the document that he had created to be delivered to Dag Korin, after Chan left the ship and not before? The logical answer was Deb Bisson, but maybe that wasn’t logical at all. Maybe it only reflected his aching need to see her one last time.

  When Chan left the observation chamber the interior of the Hero’s Return seemed like the dead ghost ship that it was soon to become. The corridors were empty, and Chan felt reluctant to disturb their silence. He was intending to spend most of the night in a suit, alone in the dark waters of Limbo, waiting for the time when he could again go ashore. He knew it would be unpleasant; but he could face that prospect, and what lay beyond, more easily than the next few hours on the dying ship.

  He walked quietly back toward the control room, the sealed envelope held close to his chest. He was passing one of the unused passenger suites, in a location where none of the team had living quarters, when he heard someone talking.

  “ … be working. When all the others are so busy …”

  It was Bony Rombelle’s voice. Chan realized that the Bun and Liddy Morse had not been on board the Hero’s Return when everyone else chose living quarters. They must have settled here, farther forward.

  Liddy — easier to hear then Bony — said, “They’re not all busy, they’re resting. Nothing is going to happen until tomorrow morning. We’ll be resting, too. Afterwards. Don’t you want to?”

  “Of course I do! I have, ever since I first met you.”

  “Well, then.”

  “But to do it now — it seems such a bad time. The ship is disintegrating, and if we reach the shore the Mallies are more likely to kill us than help us. By tomorrow night we could be dead.”

  “So this could be our last night. What would you rather be thinking when we go ashore tomorrow: We did what we both wanted to do, and it was absolutely wonderful, and now we can face whatever comes next? Or we passed up our chance last night, and we didn’t do anything, and now maybe we never will?”

  “Oh, Liddy. You know what I’d rather …”

  Chan moved on. He felt uncomfortable, an unwitting audience to private words that no one else was intended to hear. And yet, oddly enough, it solved his own problem.

  He walked on, past the control room, past dark chambers that once contained monstrous weapons systems, past the engine room, past the supercooled nerve center of the failing computer, until at last he came to the quarters that he and Deb Bisson shared.

  The final steps were the hardest. He went in, half hoping that Deb would not be there; but she was, lying facedown on the bed. He walked forward, leaned over, and placed his hand on the small of her back.

  That was a dangerous thing to do with a weapons master like Deb, who relied for survival on instinctive reaction. It told Chan something when Deb did not move.

  He said quietly, “I’m sorry for what I told you after the meeting. I really did need time to myself, but it was to write a letter. This letter. I want you to hold it for me and give it to Dag Korin after I leave the ship.”

  Before Chan overheard Bony Rombelle and Liddy Morse’s private conversation, he had intended to stop at that. He would see Deb one last time, ask her to deliver his letter, and leave. Instead he went on, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but what I did was horrible and wrong. I want to say I’m sorry. And I’d like to explain why I did it, and what I must do next. And I want to tell you why.”

  She sat up to face him. Looking into her sad brown eyes he found himself telling her everything, in a tide of words that he could not hold back.

  As he spoke her face filled with comprehension, then misery, and finally despair. She shook her head.

  Chan put his arms around her. “I know. But it is the only possible answer. And I’m the only one who can do it.”

  He expected an argument, maybe a denial. Instead she pushed her long dark hair back from her face, lay down again, and said, “Chan, come and hold me.”

  “I will.” He leaned forward and felt the room spin about him. How long was it since he had eaten? “I will lie down. But if I could just have something to eat — anything at all.” That would surely be the last straw, the final insult. “Deb, I’m sorry, but if I don’t have food—”

  “You stay there and take it easy. I’ll make something for you. And for me, too. I’m famished. I was hungry when I followed you from the meeting, but after you sent me away I couldn’t eat a thing.”

  Before Chan could reply she sat up and slipped off the bed in one graceful movement. As he watched her preparing food in the little galley, he was possessed by a sense of longing and loss and vanishing reality. The feeling persisted when Deb lifted loaded plates and glasses and came to sit cross-legged opposite him. The food tasted fine. The wine was as pleasant as ever. Was this how a condemned man savored his final meal, pretending that it was no different from a thousand others?

  “Now we can lie down and talk,” Deb said, when they had finished eating. “Don’t bother with your dish, throw it on the floor. Washing-up is over for good on the Hero’s Return.”

  Her manner perplexed Chan. He didn’t know how he expected her to react to the news that they would never see each other again, but it certainly wasn’t with this calm certainty. Didn’t she even care? Her earlier words said that she did, but now … He lay back on the bed, while she leaned over him and ran her forefinger along the line of his cheek and down onto his neck.

  “You said you needed a nap.” Her voice came from a great distance. “You’ve earned one. So relax and take it easy. Close your eyes.”

  Relax? Take it easy? When in a few hours you had to put on your suit and slip for the last time into the alien waters of Limbo, and then take an action for which the Mallies were likely to kill you? When you had found someone again after so long apart, and you were going to lose her forever? It was enough to make a man weep — smile — laugh aloud at the cruelty of fate. But that was too much work; better to drift away.

  Chan lay still, very aware of the gentle fingers running along the side of his neck. He wanted to sit up and hold Deb, but his body carried on it the weight of the whole multiverse. Even his eyelids were too heavy. The last thing he saw was Deb’s dark hair, descending on him like the fall of night.

  * * *

  Drugs that produce insensibility rather than death must be calibrated as to dosage. Deb, working quickly and unobtrusively, had been given little chance for precision. She waited for five minutes, monitoring Chan’s pulse and respiration rate.

  When she was sure that he was sleeping naturally and in no danger she picked up the sealed envelope. He had asked her to deliver it to Dag Korin. That was exactly what she proposed to do.

  The General was in his own quarters, sitting upright in a chair, fully dressed and alert as though expecting visitors. He was sipping a glass of amber liquid.

  “Medicinal purposes, my dear,” he said as she entered. “What can I do for you?”

  “You said before Chan came back on board that he might write to you when he did, or maybe leave you a message. How did you know?”

  “I’m old, Deb Bisson. I’ve seen lots of heroism, public and private. I knew some of the questions Dalton had been asking Dr. Siry, and I thought I knew where they might be leading. So he did write to me?”

  “Yes. It’s here.” Deb held out the envelope. “He told me to give it to you after he left.”

  “My God.” Korin
sat up straighter. “He hasn’t gone, has he?”

  “No. He’s asleep.”

  “Good. He must have great nerves.”

  “Great drugs. My drugs. He’ll be out for a few hours unless I give him a stimulant.” Deb was still holding the envelope out to Korin. “Do you want this, or do you already know what’s inside?”

  “I may be old and treacherous, Deb Bisson, but I’m not psychic.” He took the envelope and eyed her shrewdly. “You know what’s in here, don’t you?”

  “I do, but not because I looked. Chan told me.”

  “And as a reward for that, you gave him a knock-out drop. Hell hath no fury like a woman informed. Well, let’s see what we have here.”

  He opened the envelope and read in silence for a few minutes, now and then nodding. Once he glanced up at Deb. “Did he say good-bye to you?”

  “He was working up to it. I made him fall asleep before he could.”

  “You did the right thing. It’s annoying, you know, when someone who supposedly reports to me takes off with his own plan. In the old days he’d have been clapped in irons. But now I have to think.”

  “Do you want me to go and wake Chan, and bring him here?”

  “Oh, no. Let the man sleep, he’s earned it. Damn fine report, this, logical and complete and with things in it that I never would have thought of.” The General tapped Chan’s letter. “In fact, with just one or two crucial changes …”

  He fell silent, staring at nothing and nodding his head. At last he said to Deb, “This drug that you gave Dalton. What condition will he be in when he wakes up? Groggy, or dopey, or good as new?”

  “He’ll wonder where he is for a few minutes. Then he’ll be perfectly normal.”

  “Excellent.” Korin gestured to the chair next to him. “Sit down, Deb Bisson, and listen closely. I’ll tell you exactly what we are going to do. And then I have to write a letter of my own.”

  36: ESCAPE

  Chan was far away from the surface, drifting among the tinted luminous globes that filled the skies of Limbo. He was close to one of the pearly spheres, ready to dive into its misty depths, when he heard a faint voice. It was calling his name, telling him to come back. He descended slowly. He didn’t want to return to a region of chaos and danger. He dropped into darkness, down and down. He could see nothing, but at last he heard someone wheezing, noisily and close by. It took a long time to recognize the unpleasant sound as his own breathing.

  He opened his eyes. Deb was still leaning over him.

  She said, “I wondered if you would ever wake up. How are you feeling?”

  He sat up and put his arms around her. He saw that she was still clutching his letter to Dag Korin. He said, “Don’t deliver that until I’ve left the ship.” His voice sounded hoarse and muffled, as though he had developed laryngitis; but his throat felt fine. He went on, “I’d better be going. You shouldn’t have let me go to sleep like that. What time is it?”

  “An hour to dawn.”

  “You let me sleep all night! At daybreak I have to—”

  She pulled away and placed the letter in his hand. “I didn’t just let you sleep. I drugged you. You have to read this.”

  “You drugged me. What for?”

  “You have to read this.”

  “But I know exactly what’s in it. I wrote it.” Chan paused. The envelope that he was holding said, To Chan Dalton, from Dag Korin. To be opened only after I have left the Hero’s Return.

  Bewildered and cotton-brained, Chan opened the envelope. He started to read. Chan Dalton — The actions that you have taken so far, and those which you propose in your letter to me, are unauthorized. They are also inspired. I am a natural optimist, but in the past few days I had seen no possible way for our party to survive. I believe that what you suggest offers that survival chance, together with a hope of return to our own universe.

  We will therefore carry out your instructions exactly, with one minor change; namely, you and I will change places. I, rather than you, will deal with the Mallies. You will lead our group, and carry out your own detailed instructions. If you doubt that the Mallies will agree to work with me rather than you, allow me to point out that Friday Indigo, in his meeting here, expressed theirpreference for working with the leader of the group. That’s me. I know the exact Link protocol that you proposed to follow, because at my request Elke gave me the same thing. The Mallies will presumably ask where you are. When they do, I will explain that I was obliged to kill you, and that my degree of self-interest equals or exceeds yours. It is my impression that such an explanation will be readily accepted. If they want me to shoot or kill one or two of them to prove my resolve or goodwill, I’ll be more than happy to oblige.

  Deb was reading over Chan’s shoulder. He turned to her. “Did you give him my letter while I was asleep?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “After I specifically told you not to?”

  “Yes.” Deb backed away a step. “Chan, this may not make any sense to you, but if you hadn’t come back, and if you hadn’t told me you were sorry, and you hadn’t confided in me, I could have let you go. I mean, I would obviously have had no choice, because I wouldn’t have known what was happening. But I would have got over you. Somehow. Only when you did tell me, and trust me, and rely on me, I just couldn’t stand to lose you. Not again. I’d rather die. Once was too many.”

  “I know that feeling.” Chan could not resist putting his arms around her again, but only for a moment. He said abruptly, “Did General Korin tell you what was in his letter?”

  “No. But he called a meeting while you were asleep, and told all of us that he had to leave the ship. You would be in charge, he said, and when I woke you just before dawn you would tell everyone what to do next. I didn’t understand what was going on, but apparently the Angel did. It waved at him and said, `Aha. I am just going outside now, and I may be gone for some time. Go, General Korin, with the gratitude of the Angels of Sellora. We are a long-lived species. We hope that we will meet you again.’ Do you understand all that?”

  “Yes. Not the thing that sounds like the quote, but what the Angel meant.” Chan read on, aloud. “You are aware of my opinion of generals and admirals who are miles or lightyears away from the battle, and still try to control the action. My best advice to you is, be flexible and do whatever feels right. Tell everyone — especially Elke Siry — not to worry about me. As I’ve told her many times, Benjamin Franklin is one of my heroes. He said he wished that he could be pickled in a barrel for a couple of hundred years so that he could see what the world was like when he came out. I feel the same way. And who knows—”

  The knock on the outer door was loud enough to make Chan jump and Deb spin around into a fighting attitude. Danny Casement poked his head in.

  “I don’t want to disturb, but me and Tully need some advice. We dragged together a whole heap of stuff we might need on shore, but it’s a lot more than one trip. The General never got back to us to say how many loads we’d take, and he left the ship before we had time to ask him. He says you’re in charge, right?”

  Chan stared at the letter in his hand. “I guess so.”

  “Then how much stuff do we want to take?”

  Chan stood up. “Nothing. Just ourselves, the Angel, and the Pipe-Rilla. Is she still catatonic?”

  “Coming out of it a bit, Angel says. But look, Chan, we can’t set up camp with nothing. We’ll at least need food and drink.”

  “We’re not going to set up camp.” Chan looked at his watch. By now, Dag Korin should be ashore. “We’ll need suits, and that’s all. Can you be ready in thirty minutes?”

  “With nothing to take we can be ready in five. But I don’t know where the Bun and Liddy have got to, nobody’s seen them since early last night.”

  “I know where you can find them. Passenger suite I-47, forward. I hope Bony isn’t brain-dead this morning. He’ll have lots of work to do.”

  “Why should he be?”

  “Go get them, and
you’ll see. Deb and I will take care of Tully and Elke Siry. They’ll give us a hand with the Angel and Vow-of-Silence.”

  “Tully’s not in his own place.”

  “Where is he?”

  “With Elke.” Danny shrugged. “Don’t ask me, maybe it’s the heavy water. I’ve never believed it was safe to drink. Or maybe it’s the thought that we’ll all be dead in a few hours.”

  “Not if I can help it.” Chan stuffed Dag Korin’s letter into his pocket. He didn’t need it at the moment, because everything to be done in the next hour had been detailed in his own letter to the General. “Fifteen minutes, in suits, at the main airlock. Come on, Deb.”

  Chan walked out. He knew that Danny was itching to ask questions. Everyone would be. They had to wait. Either there would be plenty of time to answer, four hours from now; or all answers would be irrelevant.

  * * *

  Vow-of-Silence was the most difficult. When Danny had carried the Pipe-Rilla back to the Hero’s Return it had taken half an hour to remove the curled and rigid form from its suit. Putting a suit back on was even harder unless you knew Pipe-Rilla tricks. By the time that Chan and Deb, carrying her between them, reached the airlock, the others were already waiting.

  “Elke.” Chan was beginning to worry about one aspect of his own plan. The Malacostracans were not obliged to follow the schedule they had offered the previous day. Suppose they decided to go ahead sooner than expected — any time, once Dag Korin met with The One? “You’ve studied the satellite maps more than anyone else. Can you lead us ashore?”

  “I can. But not as well as you could. You and Deb Bisson and Danny Casement have already been there, I have not.”

  “I don’t want to go to that part of the land. When I left it was patrolled by Mallie guards who shoot before they think. In fact, they can’t think. I want to go in along the inlet where the Mood Indigo is beached.”

  “That’s easy.” Like the others, Elke was fully suited but with her helmet open. Her expression was nervous and her face gaunt as ever, but as usual she answered without seeming to take time to think. “The opening to the inlet is fifteen degrees south of east. After that we follow the line of the main channel due east. The Mood Indigo will be six hundred meters along, on the left.”