by Ben Bova
Linc couldn’t see Monel’s face, but his two guards out in the softly-lit corridor were grinning. He went over and closed the door with one hand, while palming the light switch with the other. The room brightened.
“You two have had enough time to walk around the Wheel,” said Monel. “How about telling the rest of us what you’re up to.”
The rest of us. Linc thought, meaning you.
“Linc has been telling me about his time with Jerlet,” Magda said guardedly.
“Yes? You must tell us all about it.” Monel was smiling, but there was neither friendship nor warmth in his face.
“Jerlet sent me back to fix the machines,” Linc said, “so that we can be saved from the yellow sun.”
“And you say that Jerlet has died,” Monel added, “so that he can’t tell us what he wants us to do. We’ve got to learn about it from you.”
“That’s right.”
“And we must trust that you’re telling the truth about what Jerlet desires.”
Linc felt his fists clenching. “Do you think that I’m a liar?”
“Did I say that?” Monel countered smoothly.
Long ago, when he was only a tiny child and Jerlet still lived with the kids, Linc saw a pair of cats getting ready to fight one another. They glared at each other, made weird wailing sounds, and paced stiffly around one another. It took a long time for them to actually fight, but they finally worked themselves up to it.
That’s what we’re doing now. Linc realized as he and Monel traded questions and demands. Just like the cats; we’re getting ready to fight.
“I’ve got to repair the machinery on the bridge,” Linc heard himself saying. “It’s necessary, if we’re to reach the new world.”
“The Ghost Place,” Magda added.
Monel didn’t seem surprised.
“I’ve forbidden it,” Magda said. “No one can go there and live.”
“I can,” Linc insisted.
“Jerlet told you how to do it?” Monel asked.
“Yes.”
Magda shook her head violently. “It’s wrong! You mustn’t disturb the ghosts!”
“It’s either that, or we all die.”
Monel laughed. He threw his head back and laughed, a scratched, harsh, cackling laughter that grated against Linc’s nerves.
“You really think anybody will believe you?” he demanded of Linc. “Do you think that the people will let you tamper with the machines—or go to the Ghost Place?”
“They will,” Linc answered, “if Magda tells them it’s all right.”
He turned to look at her. She stared straight back at him, her space-black eyes hard and glittering. But she said nothing.
“Magda will say what I want her to say,” Monel told Linc. And he wheeled his chair over to her. She stood unmoving as he reached an arm around her waist. “Magda is mine.”
Linc felt the flames of anger flare within him.
But before he could say or do anything, Monel added, “And all you have is this crazy story about Jerlet. You have no proof. No one will believe you. No one at all.”
Linc took a step toward the smirking rat-faced thing in the wheelchair. He wanted to silence Monel, wipe the evil smile off his face, close his ratlike eyes forever.
Magda stopped him with a word.
“Linc.”
He stood there balanced on the balls of his feet, hanging between his desire to smash Monel and his desire to make Magda his own.
“Go in peace, Linc,” she commanded.
And suddenly Monel’s smile evaporated. He looked displeased, angry. That’s it! Linc realized. He wants me to attack him. Then the guards outside can come in and save him, and he’ll have me for the sin of violence.
Linc felt ice replacing the fire inside him. He stood there for an uncertain moment, then said to Monel:
“I know what has to be done. All you offer the people is death, but I bring the gift of life from Jerlet. And I’ll show you—and all the people—proof of what Jerlet demands from us.”
Monel’s voice was low and ominous. “How will you do that?”
Linc ignored his question and said to Magda, “Call a meeting of the people. Meditate and ask for Jerlet’s guidance. He’ll answer you with the proof that we have a chance to reach the new world. He’ll show you that world, and tell you what needs to be done to reach it.” If I can get back to Jerlet’s domain and set up the proper tapes for the wall screens to show.
“There’ll be no meeting,” Monel snapped.
“I’ll tell the people about it. They’ll want a chance to see the proof,” said Linc. “The priestess can’t deny giving someone a chance to be heard.”
“That’s true,” Magda said. “If the people ask for a meeting, I can’t refuse. It’s my duty as priestess.”
“After the next workday,” Linc said. “Call the people together to see Jerlet’s proof.”
Magda nodded her head so slightly that Linc wondered if she moved it at all. Monel sat glaring, red-faced with fury.
Linc turned and pushed the door open. He strode past the guards and down the corridor to his own room.
It should be a simple matter to set up the back-up communications antennas. Linc told himself as he paced down the corridor. Jerlet showed me how, and the computer has all the information I need to do it. Then I can beam the data about Beryl into the screens down here, even though the regular communications channels are broken.
But sleep was making its insistent demands on him. By the time he got to his old room, he knew that he had to rest for a few hours, at least.
He was asleep as soon as his head touched the bunk. A deep dreamless sleep of exhaustion.
He awoke to someone shaking him by the shoulder.
“Linc…wake up. Please! Wake up.”
He swam up through a fog, focusing his eyes slowly, with enormous effort. It was so good to sleep, to slide back into warm oblivion…
“Linc, please! Wake up!”
He flicked his eyes open. Bending over him was Jayna. She looked terribly upset.
“Wha… what’s wrong?” Linc pushed himself up to a sitting position.
Jayna brushed back a wisp of hair. She was pretty, Linc realized. Golden hair and ice-blue eyes. Like the gold and blue of Baryta and Beryl, except that she was close enough to touch, warm, alive.
“What’s the matter?” he asked again.
She glanced nervously at the door to the corridor. It was closed, but from the look on her face, she seemed to be afraid that someone could see her in here with Linc.
“You’re in danger,” Jayna said breathlessly. Her voice was soft and high-pitched, a little girl’s voice. “Monel wants to cast you out.”
“That’s nothing new,” he grumbled as he reached down for his slippers.
“No! You don’t understand! He’s going to do it now. This shift. Before the meeting.”
Linc looked up at her. “What time is it?”
“Firstmeal’s just starting.”
He tugged on the slippers. “I’ve got a lot to do.”
Jayna sank to her knees beside him. “Linc… please listen to what I’m saying. Monel is out to kill you. He won’t let you get to the meeting. He wants you dead.”
He stared at her. She seemed really frightened. “How do you know? And why…”
“I heard him telling his guards to find you and bring you to the deadlock. They’re waiting for you at the galley. If you don’t show up there, they’ll come down here and get you.”
He got to his feet. Jayna stood up beside him. She’s shorter than Magda, he automatically noticed. But softer.
“We can hide in my room,” she said. “They won’t think of looking for you there.”
A trap? Aloud, he said, “Grab that helmet. I’ll get the rest of the suit.” He picked up the various pieces of his pressure suit, limp and lifeless now without him inside it. The backpack with its oxygen tanks was heavy, but Linc hefted it over one shoulder, gripping it by the straps.
>
“Hurry!” Jayna urged.
“The boots… can you carry them?”
She scurried to the corner of the room where he had left the boots and picked them up, shifting the bulbous helmet under her other arm.
Linc eased the door open and peeked out. A few people were walking in the corridor, but none of Mend’s guards were in sight.
“Come on,” he said, and started down the corridor.
“My room’s in the other direction.”
With a shake of his head, Linc countered, “This way. Toward the deadlock. That’s where we’re heading.”
She looked even more terrified, but she scampered along beside him. Wordlessly, they rushed down the corridor and made it to the lock without any interference.
Linc began pulling on the pressure suit. As he sealed the leggings and sleeves, he asked Jayna:
“Why did you warn me? I thought you were Monel’s girl.”
“I couldn’t let him hurt you. And besides…” her little-girl’s face looked hurt, almost teary, “he’s not interested in me. Only Magda. He said he was going to make me priestess, but all he does is stay with her!”
“Listen,” Linc said. “You’d better get down to the galley for firstmeal. Act as if everything’s normal. Otherwise Monel and his guards will realize that you’ve warned me.”
The frightened look came back into her eyes. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Go on … I’ll be all right.”
“You’re sure?”
He nodded. Then, as she hesitated, watching him pull on his gloves, she handed him the helmet that she was still holding.
“Thanks,” he said.
Jayna suddenly threw her arms around Linc’s neck and kissed him. “Don’t let them hurt you,” she whispered. Before Linc could answer she let go and dashed off down the corridor, toward the galley.
With a puzzled shrug, Linc cycled the airlock hatch open and stepped inside. No sense hanging around out in the corridor where they might see me. But he knew the airlock would be the last place Monel’s guards-would search for him. To them, it was the deadlock, the dreaded place where the dead were sent into outer darkness. No one went there unless they had to.
Linc put the helmet on, connected the oxygen and life-support hoses, and checked out the pressure suit quickly but thoroughly. Satisfied, he touched the buttons that put the airlock through the rest of its cycle. The air pumped out of the cramped metal-walled chamber, into the storage bottles that lay hidden behind the access panels lining the walls. The telltale lights on the tiny control panel shifted from amber to red, and the outer hatch swung open.
Once again Linc was outside the ship. This time, though, he hurried up the outer skin of the tube-tunnel, racing against time to get to the hub of the ship.
He had something less than ten hours before the meeting would begin, just after lastmeal. Less than ten hours to find the tapes he wanted and set them up on the back-up communications system.
I can do it, he told himself. I know lean. He kept repeating it to himself.
It seemed strange to re-enter Jerlet’s domain. His months there were suddenly like a dream, something that had happened only in his imagination. No wonder the others have a hard time believing it, Linc realized. I hardly can believe it myself.
He took off the helmet, backpack, and gloves, then went to work.
It took hours. There were a few tapes where Jerlet’s voice droned over the pictures of Baryta and Beryl. There were no tapes with Jerlet’s picture. Linc found some old tapes in the computer’s memory files, scenes from old Earth that would show the people where their ancestors had come from. A carefully programmed series of old Earth as seen from the ship, centuries ago, together with similar views of Beryl. They do look alike, Linc saw.
Finally he had the tapes he wanted, arranged the way he wanted them, and programmed them into the communications system.
Then, soaking with sweat, he went back to the airlock and donned the rest of the pressure suit and its equipment. Outside once more, he checked the back-up communication system’s antenna. It looked all right. The test panel set into the ship’s skin, along-side the two-hands-wide, bowl-shaped antenna, glowed green when Linc touched its buttons.
Now he fairly flew down the outside of the tube-tunnel toward the Living Wheel. He took great incautious leaps, spanning a dozen meters in a stride. As he got closer to the living area and the gravity built up, he had to slow down and use the stairs more normally; But still he hurried.
It took agonizing minutes to find the back-up communications antenna down on the first level. It was clear on the opposite side of the wheel from the airlock. Linc located it at last, activated it, and let his breath gulp out in a grateful sob when the panel light flashed green.
All set, then. Wall screens’ll show them everything. All I have to do is get Magda to turn them on. When she calls on Jerlet for guidance they’ll see the new world and everything else I’ve programmed.
Wearily, suddenly realizing how utterly exhausted he was, Linc clumped back along the Living Wheel’s skin to the airlock hatch. He stopped for a moment and watched the stars swinging in their stately course as the ship rotated. It’d be so easy to float off. he knew. So easy to forget everything and just drift away. Float among the stars forever.
But as he gazed out at the swirling stars, his mind’s eye pictured Monel and the way he held Magda. As if he owned her, possessed her. And she let him do it. She let him! She didn’t seem to be happy about it, but she didn’t try to stop him, either.
Linc felt confused. Magda and Monel. …Jayna warning him… everything seemed upside down. No one stayed the way they were. Everything was changing.
As the ship swung on its ponderous arc, the yellow sun came up over the curve of the metal wheel. The faceplate on Linc’s helmet automatically darkened, but he still had to squint and look away.
It can bring us death, he said to himself, if we stray too close to it. But it can also give us life, if we act properly.
And suddenly he knew that he could never let himself drift into the oblivion of death, even if it meant spending his final moments among the glories of the universe. He would fight for life. Fight with every gram of strength in him.
Doggedly, Linc pushed his tired muscles back to the airlock hatch. There’s still a lot to do. An awful lot to do.
He opened the hatch and stepped inside the airlock chamber. For a moment longer he gazed outward at the stars. But then he reached up and touched the button that closed the hatch. The pumps hidden behind the metal walls clattered to life; Linc felt their vibrations through the soles of his boots. Soon he could hear air hissing around him. The control panel light went from amber to green, and the inner hatch slid open.
Monel and four of his guards were waiting there.
“Good evening,” Monel said sarcastically. “I’m glad we didn’t sit here through lastmeal for nothing. I was expecting you to return sooner.”
Linc stepped out into the passageway and unfastened his helmet.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, as he raised the helmet off his head. “I had a lot of work to do.”
“You finished your work? You’re ready for the meeting?”
“Yes. When does it start?”
“In a little while.” Monel seemed to be enjoying the conversation. He was smiling broadly as he said, “Too bad we’ll have to have the meeting without you.”
“You can’t keep me away from it.”
Monel laughed. He raised his right hand and pointed it somewhere behind Linc.
Before he could turn around, Linc felt his arms pinned to his sides by the guards. Someone loosened the straps holding his life support pack and its oxygen tanks. It thudded to the floor.
Monel had Linc’s helmet in his lap.
“It’s going to be my sad duty to organize a search party to try to find you,” he said pleasantly. “After all, when you don’t show up at your own meeting, people will start to worry about y
ou. We’ll find this helmet here in the passageway, right beside the deadlock hatch. Someone will open the hatch to see if you’re hiding in there. They’ll find your body there. Too bad. But that’s what happens to people who tinker with machines. It’ll be a good lesson for everybody.”
Linc was too furious to say a word. His voice gagged in his throat.
Silently, the guards opened the airlock hatch and pushed Linc inside. He fell to the floor in a heap. Before he could get to his knees, the hatch slammed shut.
The green panel light changed to amber. Linc could hear the pumps starting. The air was being sucked out of the chamber.
14
Linc scrambled to his feet and clawed at the control panel. No use. Monel had jammed it, somehow. But underneath the panel lights and the regular cycle control buttons there was a red button marked EMERGENCY OVERRIDE. Jerlet had explained to Linc that the override would stop the airlock’s operation and fill the chamber with air whenever it was pushed.
Linc leaned on it. Nothing. The pumps kept on throbbing, the pulse in Linc’s ears was pounding in rhythm with it.
He’s tampered with the controls! Monel himself has tampered with the machinery!
But the realization wasn’t going to help, Linc knew.
Already it was difficult to breathe. Linc staggered to the access panel where the pumps and oxygen bottles were hidden. He flicked the latches open and the panel slid to the floor with a crash.
An empty pressure suit was hanging limply inside the compartment. Linc grabbed at the helmet and quickly pulled it over his head. There was enough air in it to let him take one quick breath. Blinking away the dark spots from his vision, he saw that there were instructions printed on the wall of the compartment, under a red EMERGENCY PROCEDURE heading.
Blessing Jerlet for teaching him to read, Linc reached for the emergency oxygen Linc that connected to a green metal tank and plugged it into the collar of his helmet. The stuff tasted stale and felt cold, but it was breathable.
Linc quickly sealed the helmet, pulled the oxygen tanks and life support pack from the emergency suit onto his own back, and then disconnected the emergency oxygen supply Linc. He was fully suited up, able to face hard vacuum without danger.
