End of Exile e-3 Read online

  Linc frowned. “Well,” he said to the nearest of the little machines, “you’re just going to have to try to get through. I hope there are enough replacement parts left in the storage bins.”

  For months now Linc had had no one to talk to except the servomechs. They weren’t very good company.

  He programmed the servomech and it obediently rolled out to the hatch, snaked a flexible arm up to the control button, and let itself out of the bridge.

  Linc arched his back tiredly. The bridge’s main observation viewscreen was focused on Baryta. The yellow sun was no longer merely a bright star; it showed a discernible disk. Even through the filtered screen display, it was bright enough to hurt Linc’s eyes. Close beside hung a bluish star: Beryl itself was now visible.

  But no one came from the people to tell him that they saw Beryl, and that they now believed him.

  “Let them meditate and frighten themselves to death,” Linc muttered as he walked tiredly toward the room he had made the servomechs fix up for him. His voice sounded harsh and strained; he hadn’t used it too much lately.

  Starting to sound as ragged as Jerlet, he said to himself.

  He glanced at the airtight hatch that let to the passageway as he walked down the long, curving length of the bridge. Once in a while he thought he saw someone peering through the tiny window at him, watching him. “Imagination,” he snorted. “You want them to come to you, so you imagine seeing faces. Next thing you know, you’ll start imagining the ghosts are real.”

  They had seen the ghosts, all right. When the servomechs, led by Linc, carried the long-dead crew to the deadlock, the people had watched, aghast. No one offered to help. After the first few shocked moments of watching, they had all run into their rooms and shut their doors tightly.

  The window in the hatch was dark, as usual, when he looked at—

  There was a face there!

  Linc stopped in his tracks. He blinked. The face was there, staring at him. The window was too clouded to make out who it was. A hint of yellow hair, that’s all he could see.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Linc stepped over to the hatch. The face didn’t go away.

  He reached for the hatch’s lever and pulled it open. Jayna stood on the other side, an odd-shaped package in her hands.

  “H … hello,” Linc said, his voice nearly cracking.

  She stood wide-eyed, frightened looking. But she didn’t run away.

  “I brought you some food.” Jayna’s voice was high and trembly.

  She looks so scared. Linc Thought. Scared and little and helpless. And awfully pretty.

  “Thanks,” he said, reaching out for the package.

  “I’ve been here before, but you never noticed me.”

  “You should have rapped on the hatch.”

  “Oh no… I didn’t want to… to bother you,” she said.

  “I would have welcomed some company. It’s been pretty lonesome in here all by myself. Nothing to talk to except machines, and they don’t talk back.”

  “Oh.”

  They stood awkwardly facing each other, on either side of the hatch’s metal lip.

  “Want to come in and see what I’m doing?” Linc asked.

  An even deeper fear flickered across her face.

  “It’s all right,” he said, smiling. “I’ve cleared away the ghosts and cleaned up the place.” He reached his freehand out for her.

  She hesitated a second, then took his hand. Her grasp felt warm and wonderful to Linc.

  She stepped inside and Linc swung the hatch shut.

  “Do Monel or Magda know you’ve come here?”

  Shaking her head, Jayna answered, “No. But I don’t care if they do. They’re going crazy, all of them. Every time we see the yellow star it’s closer and hotter. But they say if we work harder and meditate longer it’ll go away. But it’s not!”

  Smiling grimly, Linc said, “It better not. It’s our chance for life. Has anybody noticed the little blue star beside it?”

  “Yes. …a few. Monel claims it’s not there. He says it’s a trick, to fool us.”

  “Hmp. That ‘trick’ is Beryl. Our new homework!, if we can reach it.” He walked slowly back to the row of desks that lined the far wall of the bridge’s length, and placed the food package down.

  “A trick, huh? And who’s playing this trick on everybody? Has Monel blamed anybody for it?”

  Nodding, “Yes… You.”

  Linc nodded back. “I thought so.”

  He showed Jayna the bridge, showed how many of the instruments and sensors he had already repaired. She watched in silent wonder as Linc made views of Beryl appear on the viewing screens that lined the bridge’s curving length.

  “The sensors are starting to bring us information on how far away we are, and what changes in our course we need to make to get to the new world,” he explained to her. But it’s all useless if I can’t get the astrogation computer working, he added silently.

  Linc showed the girl where he and the servomechs had repaired the hole in the ship’s hull, and how he had fitted out the room next to the bridge—the captain’s lounge, he had learned from the computer plans—for his own comfort. He kept the servomechs still while Jayna was near them; he didn’t want to frighten her with machines that rolled around the floor and blinked lights and used mechanical arms.

  She was silent all through the tour. Finally she said, “It’s all wonderful! Linc, what you’ve done is wonderful! You’re wonderful!”

  “You’re not frightened of me now?”

  “No.” She was looking up at him with those large, sweet blue eyes. “I was scared when I came in… I only meant to bring you some food. I didn’t think I’d have the nerve to really come inside.”

  “There’s nothing here to be frightened of.”

  She stepped close to him. “I know that… now.” His arms circled around her automatically.

  For a while they stayed together, holding each other, not moving. But finally, Linc gently disengaged himself.

  “You’d better go back, before they find out that you’ve come here.”

  Jayna looked up at him, her eyes troubled. “Linc…let me stay here. With you.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “You can’t.”

  “Please.”

  His hands reached out to her, almost as if they had a life of their own and he had no control over them. But he stopped them and let them fall to his sides.

  “No,” he said firmly. “You’ve got to go back. If you stay, Monel will send his guards here to bring you back. It will be the excuse he needs to try to stop me.”

  “They’d be afraid to come in here,” she said.

  I want her to stay! Linc realized. But he said to Jayna, “You can’t stay here. Go back to the rest of them. Tell them you’ve been here, if you want to. Tell them what you saw, what I’m doing. Tell them—all of them—that I’m going to save their lives whether they help me or not.”

  “I’ll help you.” Her voice was pleading now. “I want to help you.”

  “The best way for you to help is to go back and tell them.”

  Jayna looked as if she would keep on arguing. But abruptly, she pulled her gaze away from Linc, turned, and nearly ran for the hatch that led to the passageway. She didn’t look back. Linc stood rooted to the floor plates, as if welded there, and watched her open the hatch and flee back to the rest of the people.

  Idiot! he snarled at himself. She doesn’t know why you wanted her to leave. After a moment’s thought, he admitted, And neither do I.

  Time became a meaningless, endless round of work. Linc slept, ate, and worked. He sent the servomechs back and forth from the bridge to the hub so often that he lost count. He learned what he needed to know from the computer’s instruction screens; and a lot more besides.

  Jayna returned for more brief visits. She always brought food, even, though Linc assured her that he ate very well; the servomechs brought food down from the galley in the hub. She stopped asking to stay
with him, but hinted subtly about it. Linc ignored her hints.

  Beryl grew brighter, and Baryta became a blinding sphere of brilliance that he could watch only through the special filters of the telescopes and viewing screens. Linc finally got the astrogation computer working, and then faced the problem of checking out the controls and wiring that linked the computer’s command system to the ship’s rocket thrusters.

  That’s when Slav showed up.

  He simply pushed open the airlock hatch and called in his heavy deep voice, “Linc? It’s me, Slav.”

  Linc was at the other end of the bridge, studying a diagram on a viewing screen. It traced out the wiring circuits that led to the main rocket engines.

  He rushed down the length of the bridge as Slav called again:

  “Hey Linc. Where are you? It’s me…”

  Stav heard his pounding footsteps and turned to see him. Linc skidded to a halt.

  “…Slav,” he ended, his voice going soft.

  For a moment, Linc didn’t know what to say. “I… it’s… it’s good to see you, Slav.”

  His broad-cheeked, square-jawed face broke into a wide boy’s grin. “Jayna told me she’s been here and the ghosts didn’t get her. I felt kind of silly, staying away.”

  “There’s nothing here to be afraid of.”

  “Huhn… that’s what Jayna said. Thought I’d come and see for myself.”

  Linc waved a hand at the curving Linc of desks and viewscreens that formed the bridge. “Sure… see for yourself.”

  Stav paced along, hands locked behind his broad back, and looked at the instrument screens. Nearly all of them were working now, showing views of Beryl, readout numbers and curving graph lines in different colors that reported on how the ship’s power generators and other machines were working. Slav seemed especially fascinated by the computer and it’s winking lights.

  “You’ve got all the machines working,” Stav said.

  “Almost all of them,” Linc replied. “It wasn’t too tough to do. Most of them just needed minor repairs. Whoever built them made them to last.”

  Stav nodded heavily. He was impressed.

  “I could use some help,” Linc said.

  Stav pursed his lips quizzically. “Monel wouldn’t like that.”

  “Is he just as bad as when I left?”

  “Worse.”

  “Oh.”

  “Every day the yellow sun gets closer, the people get more afraid, and Monel gets crazier. He’s got everybody lining up in the morning for firstmeal. If he doesn’t like you, you have to go to the end of the Linc. Maybe you don’t get any food at all. His guards watch us all day long. It’s not easy to do your work with somebody staring at you all the time. If you try to rest for a few moments they yell at you. And then you don’t get any food at lastmeal.”

  “And the people are putting up with that?”

  “What can we do? I almost wrapped a hoe around one guard’s head, but then I remembered what happened to poor little Peta. I don’t want to be cast out!”

  Linc frowned. “What about Magda?”

  “We never see her anymore. She’s locked herself in her room. Monel claims she’s meditating day and night, trying to save us by pure mental concentration.”

  Linc looked away from the thick-armed farmer and stared at a viewscreen that showed green curving lines snaking across a gridwork graph. The background of the screen was black, and Linc could see his face reflected in it: tight, hollow-cheeked, thin-lipped, eyes scowling.

  “Slav,” he said at last, “meditating isn’t going to save this ship. And nothing Monel can do will save us, either. But I can save us all. I know how to get us safely to the new world. Most of the machines are working now. I need help to get the rest of them in shape.”

  “You want me to help you.”

  “Not just you,” Linc said. “All the people. Anyone and everyone. Go back and tell them that they can help me… and if they do, they’ll be saving themselves.”

  Slav blinked his eyes. Like almost everything he did, it was a slow and deliberate movement. “Not everybody can come here. Somebody’s got to work the farm tanks—”

  “I need all the help I can get. We’re in a race against time. Everything’s got to be ready before we get too close to the yellow sun. Otherwise we won’t be able to pull away from it and land on the new world.”

  “All right,” Slav said. “I’ll tell the people. Monel and his guards, though…”

  “They can’t stop you. Not if you all act together.”

  Slav nodded slowly, but he didn’t seem convinced.

  17

  Linc paced slowly along the bridge, watching the viewscreens and the men and women sitting at their stations tending the instruments. He felt a warm glow of pride.

  The ship works beautifully, he said to himself. My ship. I brought it back to life. I made it work again. He wished for a moment that Jerlet could see it all; how the machines hummed and clicked to themselves. How the people had come to him: Jayna first, then Slav, then two more, a handful, a dozen. Now he had enough people to do all the tasks that needed doing. They didn’t even jump when a servomech trundled past them, anymore. The rocket engines tested out; the connections were solid. The computer had worked out a flight plan to put them in orbit around Beryl.

  All that remains to do is to test the matter transmitter. Linc knew. But even if it takes time to get it working, once we’re in a stable orbit around Beryl we’ll have plenty of time. Already the main computer up in the hub was going over all the necessary data and working up a program that would tell Linc how to repair and test the matter transmitter system.

  If Jerlet could only see this! He’d be proud of me. But Linc frowned to himself. He knew who he really wanted to see his accomplishments: Magda. But she had never once visited the bridge, his domain.

  Monel had come.

  Red-faced, thinner, and nastier than ever, he had come flanked by six of his guards and watched—angry and snarling—as more than a dozen people worked at the tasks Linc had assigned them.

  “You’ll get no food!” he screamed at them. “None at all! Don’t expect to go against my orders and still get fed.”

  Linc countered, “We have food processors at the hub and other levels of the ship. The servomechs keep us well-supplied. We won’t starve.”

  Monel spun his chair around and wheeled himself away from the bridge. One of his guards stayed with Linc, a fellow named Rix. “He’s gone crazy,” Rix said. “I’m better off with you.”

  Linc didn’t tell everyone that the food processors couldn’t feed a large number of people indefinitely. They would need inputs of fresh food eventually. But by that time we’ll either be in orbit around Beryl or dead.

  Monel was back a few days later, this time threatening to have the guards tear people away from the bridge by force, if necessary.

  “Violence?” Linc asked.

  “Justice!” Monel snarled.

  Linc went to a desk top and touched a button. A servomech rolled up to Monel’s chair and stood there, its dome sensors pulsing with a faint reddish light. Monel backed his chair away.

  “Those metal arms,” Linc said, “can inflict a lot of justice on your guards. Or you.”

  Monel left the bridge. He never returned. Neither did his guards.

  And Magda never came at all.

  I could go get her, Linc thought. But he shook his head at the idea. No! Let her come to me. She’s wrong and I’m right.

  Besides, there was Jayna and a dozen other girls who wanted to be with him now. Let Magda sit in her shrine, Linc told himself. Let her meditate ’til she turns green!

  Most of the people came to the bridge to help him every day, then returned to their quarters for meals and sleep. Despite the threats and grumblings, Monel took no action to stop them. Slav and his farmers hardly ever showed up on the bridge, but Linc knew they were on his side.

  Linc himself slept in the captain’s lounge, next to the bridge. He ate what Jayna or
some of the other girls brought him.

  He spent most of his time working on the matter transmitter.

  It was incredibly complex, and he didn’t understand the first tenth of what he was doing. But the computer patiently showed detailed diagrams, gave him long lists of parts and instructions on where to find them and how to use them.

  And each day the yellow sun grew brighter, bigger. It seemed to be reaching out for them.

  Linc was squatting on the floor of the transmitter booth—a» tall cylinder of transparent plastic that stood in front of the system’s roomful of electronic hardware—when Hollie came running up to him.

  “Linc,” she called breathlessly, “the astrogation computer is starting to print out the final course corrections!”

  Linc scrambled to his feet and wordlessly followed her to the bridge. Hollie was a slim, lanky girl, almost Linc’s own height, and her long legs kept pace with him as they raced down the corridor from the transmitter station to the bridge.

  More than a dozen people were crowded around the astrogation computer desk. They moved back when Linc arrived and let him slide into the seat.

  Above the desk, the computer’s main viewscreen had split into several different displays. One showed numbers: the exact timing and thrust levels of the rocket burns that must be made. Another showed a picture of their course, laid against a schematic drawing of the solar system that they were finally reaching. Thin yellow lines showed the orbits of the system’s six planets: Beryl was the second-closest to the yellow sun. A glowing blue Linc showed the course that the ship would have to follow; it ended in a circular orbit around Beryl. A flashing green dot showed where the rocket burns had to be made.

  Linc studied the numbers and nodded.

  “Twelve hours,” he said. “The first rocket burn has to be made in twelve hours.”

  They all clapped and laughed. They were excited, eager. Their long weeks of work were finally resulting in something they could see.

  But Linc found himself wishing for more time. I’ve got to be in a dozen places at once, he realized. The matter transmitter wasn’t ready for testing yet, and no one else could read or handle the tools well enough to be trusted with it. But he also had to be here on the bridge to make certain that the course-changing maneuvers were done exactly right. Otherwise everything was doomed.