Stranded on Haven

by William Zellmann

  I sighed. I guessed I was getting a little hard to contact; but the business I had been enjoying so much was becoming nothing but an unending stream of messages, proposals, and requests. It really wasn't much fun anymore; in fact it was becoming drudgery. And I guessed I had been spending a lot of time aboard one or the other of the ships, frantically helping Ollie's people get ready for the arrival of our students in a couple of weeks. And then, of course, security was a never-ending issue; of course, I had to hire security guards for my 'public' house, even when I wasn't there, and one of the reasons I'd spent so much time and money recruiting Becky was that I wasn't free to move about without a bodyguard I could trust. And so, I had to admit it might be hard to get some face time with me. Suddenly I found I was smiling. I had been missing the personal contacts, too.

  I went through the list of radio and telegraph messages Lisa had saved for me, and sure enough, several of them were from Terhoe. I had met the man at the VIP party. Since Kel Sarbo's empire had fallen and he'd committed suicide, Terhoe was reputed to be the richest man on Haven. As I recalled, Terhoe had been a pleasant enough sort; certainly no Sarbo, but rather reserved, his manner actually rather grim.

  I sent him a radio message inviting him to the festivities marking the beginning of classes, and offering to meet with him in my International Zone office following the ceremony. I asked Lisa to let me know when he replied, which he did within hours, confirming his attendance.

  Actually, I had little involvement in the actual ceremony, other than to sit on the podium and be seen, and to occasionally greet a guest. By the time all the speeches were done, I was actually looking forward to my meeting with sire Terhoe. I expected he wanted to push a business proposition; but even that would be better than the endless hours of speeches.

  Terhoe was accompanied by a younger man, whom he introduced as his son, Rol. Unlike his father, Rol was all smiles, obviously impressed by meeting ‘The Star Man’.

  "I know you're expecting me to push some business deal, sire Carver," he began once we were comfortable, the Haveners with their choc, and me with my caf. "And you're right. But this won't be a factory or even a new industry. No, I want to sell you a dream, and your actions since your arrival lead me to believe you may be willing to buy.

  He sighed. “You can’t know how much I have envied you,” he began. “I envied you to the point of hatred. It’s one of the reasons I avoided meeting you, although your reclusive lifestyle made avoidance easy.”

  I smiled. “I’m afraid my ‘reclusive lifestyle’ had more to do with Duke Richard than my choice.”

  Finally, he answered my smile with one of his own. “I understand,” he said. “His Excellency certainly tried hard enough to get my help.”

  He shrugged. “At any rate, I eventually came to recognize that my hatred was really envy. I reviewed reports of your actions since your arrival, and I realized that you were, in fact, an honorable man, with Haven’s best interests at heart. I also began wondering how I could convince you to help me fulfill my dream.

  "Ever since I was a little boy," he began, "I dreamed of traveling in space. I spent hundreds of nights watching the unmoving star that was Adventurer and dreaming of the riches she carries. Oh, I don't mean the material riches; I mean the almost infinite knowledge she carries. I founded the Adventurer Project when I was in college. I suppose you could call it a club, one devoted to gathering every scrap of surviving information from Adventurer, with the aim of boarding her, waking her, and ultimately taking her to the stars.

  "Then you arrived, and accomplished in days a feat we've dreamed of for centuries; awakening Adventurer and making her wealth of information available to all the peoples of Haven. We cheered when you proposed the Space University, and supported you through the worst of the New home propaganda and hysteria. I even got myself appointed to the University’s Board of Regents. But still, we, I, hated you for so casually doing what we had dreamed of for years.”

  I didn’t know how to react to all this. What do you say to someone who says he’s hated you? So, I merely waited.

  “But you are an honorable man,” he continued, “and as I became more involved, I came to realize that, and that I should have been finding ways to help you, instead of hating you. So, I offer you my apologies and my respect.”

  Suddenly a wide smile flared, washing away his dour expression. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of our way, let’s talk some business.

  “The Adventurer Project still exists, you know. We’re a bunch of wealthy, middle aged fanatics now, still dreaming our dreams of going to the stars. And that, sire Carver is what I’m here to talk about.”

  I shook my head. “You want to take Adventurer into space? Or perhaps ground her on Haven?” I sighed. “I’m afraid that Adventurer is safest where she is, and where the nations can’t reach her to fight over her.”

  “No, no!” he protested. “I agree that Adventurer should remain in orbit. No, I want to take Startrader into space.” I struggled to overcome my surprise as he drew a deep breath.

  “You have made no secret of your story,” He continued. “that you are castaway on Haven, and that reaching the nearest star would take thirty years. What we propose is to load her up with a high value cargo, and that some of us board her for a thirty-year voyage to Hadley.”

  I frowned. “Thirty years is a long time. That’s why I settled here instead of going there.”

  He nodded. “True, but you were talking about a solitary trip. We feel that it will not be hard to recruit a hundred or more adventurers to make the trip. I’m told that once we get there, and you get Startrader’s, uh, ‘jump’ drives repaired, the return trip would take only weeks, not years. And Haven would no longer be alone!”

  I was perplexed. “But why? Why would you and your people want to spend the next thirty years getting to a strange planet, far different from your own?” I shrugged. “Oh, we might arrange some kind of deal that lets your people charter Startrader for some in-system runs, and fulfill your dreams. But thirty years? I can assure you, there’s nothing to see in jump, and no portholes. It would be thirty years’ confinement in what amounts to a metal prison. Oh, I’ve been selling off a lot of her cargo, and it would be a large prison, but still, a prison. I’m sure you’d find Hadley exciting and interesting, at least for a while. But thirty years and millions of crowns for a tourist trip? And suppose I take the salvage award and stay there? You might be marooned.”

  He shook his head. “No, no, you still don’t understand. This won’t be a tourist trip! We will beggar ourselves to buy as large a high-value cargo as we can afford; and we’ll take the rest of our fortunes with us, in negotiable forms. I’m certain that you and your amazing ship can advise us on the most valuable forms of wealth on Hadley.

  “No,” he continued, “We plan to sell our cargo, and perhaps load Startrader with a return cargo. In thirty years, I’m certain your ship can teach us what would be best to buy. Meanwhile you will get enough salvage on her to return to Haven with us, if you so desire. If not, we expect to be able to charter a starship for the return trip.

  “In thirty-one or thirty-two years, Haven will be involved in interstellar trade. In a few more years, we may be able to buy our own starship. Perhaps some of our people will be willing to stay on Hadley for a few years, and get trained to become captain and crew. Either way, interstellar trade comes to Haven, and in less than a century we become as advanced a planet as any.”

  He sat back, a satisfied look on his face. “And that is our dream, Messer Carver! What do you think?”

  Minutes dragged by as I thought hard. Finally, I decided I just didn’t know enough to answer. “To be honest, sire Terhoe, I don’t know. I’ll have to do some serious thinking, and talk with Startrader’s AI and, of course my fiancée.”

  Terhoe grinned. “Your fiancée? Wonderful! Congratulations, sire!” His grin turned mischievous. “Imagine! A thirty-year honeymoon!” The grin faded. “Of course, sire Carver, take all the t
ime you need. Meanwhile, if there is anything I can do to help you, and make up for my past hostility, please don’t be afraid to ask!”

  I nodded, smiling. “Thirty years isn’t a honeymoon, sire. It’s a large part of a lifetime. I’ll certainly keep you posted.” Our talk turned from business to both men’s obsessions with space, and ended with me taking them both aboard Startrader. Both were embarrassed by the decontam, but didn’t miss a detail of my explanation and the procedure itself.

  Since I’d been selling and the robots had been unloading cargo, I was keeping life support active in all of Startrader. So, I was able to take them on what ended up being an overnight tour. Terhoe was amazed by Lisa, though Rol struggled to appear unimpressed.

  Terhoe didn’t bother to try to conceal his excitement at having a dream come true, and his insistence on seeing every detail of the huge vessel had us so exhausted by the time we finished that it was all we could to snatch a quick dinner and collapse into our beds.

  At breakfast, we continued to discuss Terhoe’s plan, though I was careful not to involve Lisa; I’d get her opinion later, in private.

  “It appears to be a workable plan,” Lisa told me. “The one unknown is the reactions of the various humans to such prolonged isolation. Fortunately, I possess all the testing resources normally used for crew selection. Most of those resources, however, are based on cultures far more advanced than that of Haven. They may be sufficient, and more appropriate resources may exist aboard Adventurer; I am unqualified to make valid predictions concerning human psychology.

  “Fuel metals are common, however and could provide the basis for sustainable trade. I have also compared the planetary surveys of Haven and Hadley’s trade reports, and have noted a number of luxury items that appear to carry a high probability of profit in a trading situation.

  “Then, of course,” she continued, “there is the salvage award to be considered.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think I’d want to sell Startrader; and that’s the only way to profit from that.”

  “I disagree, Captain,” Lisa said. “Even with your sales of cargo on Haven, the remaining cargo should make you quite wealthy. There is also the fact that you are already very wealthy. You should be able to purchase a substantial amount of profitable cargo to sell on Hadley.”

  I smiled. “It sounds like you’re voting in favor of this little junket.”

  “I have no vote, Captain. All I can do is give you advice to consider. And at the moment, I advise consulting Ellie and possibly Doctor Canva.”

  Ellie was delighted. “To travel between the stars? Can we really do that, Jerd? After we’re married, of course.” she concluded primly.

  I smiled. “Of course we can, Ellie, if we really want to. But remember, we’re talking about thirty years. That’s longer than we’ve been alive! Of course, I’ve been a bit worried about the difference in our lifespans. The average Lifespan for a woman on Haven seems to be about 80 years, though no one is quite sure. Males from my planet have life spans that average about 140. Ellie, I don’t want to live 60 years longer than you.

  “I mention that because on Hadley we’ll have access to some life-prolongation techniques that could give us many more years together.”

  She grinned. “Are you sure you could handle that many years of my nagging?”

  I answered her grin with one of my own. “I know that I want to share my life with you for as long as I can. But thirty years is more than half your remaining normal lifespan. Can you handle that long cooped up in a tin can? A big tin can, of course, but still …”

  She nodded, still grinning. “As long as we take along enough women for me to flee to in times of distress! Besides, if we don’t go, no one can; and that means more than a century before I’d have another chance to travel the stars!”

  I had Lisa compile a list of items that were reasonably-priced on Haven, but that would produce a decent profit on Hadley. As a freighter, Lisa was well equipped to estimate profit margins and cargoes.

  Then I called Terhoe and invited him to my ‘public’ house. He was disappointed, of course, but I didn’t want him distracted by his surroundings; and the ‘public house’ was a typical upper-class house, nothing ostentatious.

  I introduced him to Ellie, and announced our decision at dinner, cooked by our Haven cook in a standard Haven kitchen. This house was for entertaining Haveners, and I wanted it to convey the message that I was settling into ‘normal’ life, and wouldn’t be flaunting my advanced gadgetry. Besides, I still had our ‘safe houses’ with their power, and most importantly, their ‘freshers. The latter were the only advanced gadgets installed in the ‘public’ house, and only in our private spaces.

  Terhoe was excited, and wanted to discuss details immediately, but I told him to slow down. “This will take months, possibly even a year, to arrange,” I said. “We all, your members and even myself have to liquidate a lot of assets and purchase a lot of cargo.

  “Besides,” I warned him, “we’re going to be very selective about the people who go along. We need people who will be able to get along with everyone else for half a lifetime. The testing alone will take months, and needs to be the first step. There will be physical examinations, mental examinations and tests, and psychological and sociological screening. We do not want someone to break after ten years and slaughter a dozen of his neighbors!”

  Terhoe wasn’t really happy about it, but he admitted the necessity. “But if you eliminate me,” he said with a grin, “I’m liable to slaughter a dozen or so myself!”

  Of course, I had to start pulling together all my scattered cash accounts. Ellie looked at the falling balances and asked, “Can we really afford this, Jerd? Are you going to be bankrupt?”

  Res Vont chuckled. “You’re planning to run off to the stars for thirty years, and you worry about being broke? When you come back, if you come back, Jerd will be richer than he is now; much richer. I’m going to be working my fingers to the bone keeping track of the profits from all his investments, and calculating my commissions, of course.”

  Res was already working his fingers to the bone, inconspicuously converting all that cash to trade goods. All of the expectant passengers were doing the same, and prices were beginning to rise. Questions were also beginning to be asked, but the passenger list was strictly ‘invitation only’, and so far the secret hadn’t got out.

  By the time the project was leaked by an unhappy reject, we had over fifty passengers. As soon as the news got out, of course, thousands of people were clamoring to apply. We had set the minimum investment in the project to ten million crowns, and there were demonstrations in the streets when that news was leaked. We had tried to explain that we would need to buy return cargo and possibly even charter another starship; but to little avail. I was once again Haven’s favorite villain. The radio and papers began referring to the trip as the ‘rich men’s tour’, and I once again had to stay clear of the ‘public’ house for fear of setting off a riot.

  We had quietly begun slipping our minimum investment, in order to recruit more younger people. A shipload of sick oldsters wouldn’t be up to all the activity this trip would entail. Besides, Lisa’s files advised that it was advisable to have a mix of ages.

  Because of the amount of smoke urban Haveners breathed, many of them suffered from respiratory diseases and infections, and lung cancer was common and incurable on the planet. This further limited the pool of prospective passengers, and we had decided that the minimum number of passengers to sustain a long-term ‘colony’ should be 100. The last eight were our youngest, and were the beneficiaries of older, wealthier people; people like me. One of the eight was Becky Towne.

  A lot of the testing was done by university personnel, mostly doctors. The sciences of psychology and sociology were in their infancy on Haven, so it was largely on-the-job-training.

  The reason for that was that I was busy aboard Startrader, working with Lisa to replenish her supplies and stow the amazing variety of cargo. W
e had everything from 500 kilos of gold bullion to 20 kilos of pure, blue-white diamonds, and everything in between. I was somewhat reassured by the fact that most of the cargo was on Lisa’s list.

  At long last, everything was in readiness, and our passengers filed into the landers, bags of personal items in hand. At last only one lander remained – Startrader’s gig. It was looking drab among the colorful decorations. Ellie was looked radiant in a gorgeous white gown, while I fidgeted in those damned tight tubular trousers, weskit, cravat, and black coat.

  “Do you, Jerd, take this woman, Ellen Fergson, to be your wife and helpmate, to share your life with her, for as long as you both shall live?”

  There was a fluttering in my chest, and I could barely strangle out, “I do.”

  Do you, Ellen take Jerd Carver for your husband, to support him and care for him, and share your life with him, for as long as you both shall live?”

  “I do.” there was no hesitation in her voice, no nervousness.

  We kissed, and I lifted her through the gig’s small hatch. Once the hatch swung closed, we kissed again, much more passionately. After a long few moments we broke off the kiss. “Later, Dearest,” Ellie murmured in my ear.

  Grinning ear to ear, I took the pilot’s seat and lifted the gig off into our future, and that of Haven.

  The End

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