Flight of Exiles e-2 Page 5

  Shaking his head, Dr. Loring said, “She’s seen him a couple of times since the fire. Had dinner with him…alone.”

  “I know that.”

  “I told her that I didn’t think it was right; nothing can come of it but trouble.”

  “Is that what you came here to tell me? Val’s told me about it already. We’re not keeping secrets from each other. There’s nothing wrong with her having dinner with old friends—”

  “He still wants her, you know.”

  “I know.” I remember how I felt when she was promised to him.

  “He’s asked her not to marry you until after we’ve decided about the Centaurian planet.”

  Larry nodded again.

  “He’s going to cause trouble.”

  Larry’s patience was starting to wear thin. “Look, Dr. Loring, I know how Dan feels. I know he’s trying to gain control of the Council and have me pushed out. But you’ve got to remember that he and I were friends for a long time and …”

  “He believes,” Dr. Loring said, his voice rising to interrupt Larry, “that the fire in the cryosleepers was no accident. He thinks his father was deliberately killed. Murdered.”

  “Murdered?”

  “That’s right.”

  “By whom? Who’d do such a thing? Why?”

  Dr. Loring almost smiled. “You see, there are some things that you don’t know. Valery’s been afraid to tell you everything, for fear that it would cause more trouble between you and Dan. But I wormed it out of her. She can’t keep secrets from her father!”

  “Why in hell would Dan think his father was murdered? What possible reason could there be?”

  Shrugging, Loring replied, “I happen to_ know that he has a computer technician digging through the oldest memory cores on the ship for some special instructions that his father fed into the computer—apparently when the voyage first began. Perhaps even before the voyage started, when the ship was still in orbit around Earth.”

  Larry sank back in his chair.

  “Take my word for it,” Loring insisted, shaking a stubby finger in the air, “Dan is dangerous. I think he’s unbalanced … insane. And he’s determined to get his own way—with the ship, with Valery, with everything. That means he’s got to get rid of you, one way or another.”

  Dan Christopher’s job aboard the ship was in Propulsion and Power.

  Trained from childhood in physics and electrical engineering, Dan watched over the ship’s all-important hydrogen fusion reactors, the thermonuclear power plants that provided the ship’s rocket thrust and electrical power. Using the same energy reactions as the stars, the fusion reactors were small enough to fit into a pair of shielded blisters up on level seven—the innermost ring of the ship, closest to the hub. Small, yet these reactors had enough power in them to drive the ship across the light-years between the stars and to provide all the electrical power needed by the ship and its people for year after year after year.

  The fusion reactors were like miniature suns. Inside each heavy egg-shaped radiation shield of lead and steel was a tiny, man-made star: a ball of glowing plasma, a hundred million degrees hot, held suspended in vacuum by enormously powerful magnetic fields. Deuterium—a heavy isotope of hydrogen—was fed into the fusion plasma almost one atom at a time. Energy came out, as the deuterium atoms were fused into helium. The same process that powers the sun, the stars—and hydrogen bombs.

  There was enough energy in the fusion reactors to turn the entire ship into a tiny, glowing star—for an explosive flash of a second.

  In theory, the reactors were expected to be quiet, almost silent. And the energy converters that changed the heat of the fusion plasma into electricity were supposed to be virtually silent too.

  Yet as Dan prowled down along the metal catwalk that hung over one of the reactors, he could feel through the soles of his slippered feet the low-frequency growl of a star chained to a man’s command. The metal floor plates vibrated, the air itself seemed to be heavy with the barely audible rumbling of some unseen giant’s breathing.

  Dan leaned over the catwalk’s flimsy railing and peered down at the work crew on the floor below. The railing could be flimsy because the gravity factor at level seven was only one-tenth of Earth-normal g. The ship’s designers had put the heaviest equipment in the areas where weight was almost negligible. People had to live at full Earth g, so that the living quarters were down in the outermost wheel, level one. But the big equipment was up here, where a man could haul a five-hundred kilo generator by himself, if he had to.

  Dan could feel the frail railing tremble in his hands from the reactors’ deep-pitched subsonic song. The reactors themselves were little to look at, just a pair of dull metal domes some twenty meters across: like a brace of eggs lain by a giant robot bird. Off on the other side of level seven was another pair of reactors, and the smaller auxiliary electrical power generators. Between the two blisters housing the big equipment was nestled the control instrumentation and offices for the Propulsion and Power group.

  The work crew on the main floor below the catwalk was still trying to get the main generator going. All the repairs had been made, and the generator had been reassembled in its place between the two reactors. But it would still not light off.

  As Joe Haller had put it after an exasperating week of working on the generator: “It’s an engineer’s hell. Everything checks but nothing works.”

  Dan knew they’d get it going sooner or later. But he couldn’t help wondering why the generator wasn’t working, when all the calculations and tests showed that it should.

  Is there a saboteur in Joe’s team? he wondered, watching them work. And if so — why? Who’s behind all this?

  “MR. CHRISTOPHER, MESSAGE FOR YOU,” said the computer’s flatly calm voice over the intercom loudspeakers.

  Dan reluctantly turned away from the sweating crew beneath him and strode back toward the control area. The magnetized metal foil strips in his slippers clung slightly to the floor plates of the catwalk.

  Shutting the door behind him, Dan felt the bone-quivering rumble of the reactors disappear, to be replaced by the higher-pitched hum of electrical equipment monitors, computer terminals, viewscreens. A half-dozen people were seated at monitoring desks, watching the performance of the reactors and generators.

  Dan spotted an empty desk, slid into its chair, and touched the phone button. “Dan Christopher here,” he said.

  The little desktop viewscreen glowed briefly, then Dr Hsai’s features took shape. The psychotech smiled a polite oriental smile.

  “Kind of you to answer my call so quickly,” Dr. Hsai said softly. “I know you must be very busy.”

  Dan smiled back. “You’re a busy man, too. What can I do for you?”

  Looking slightly more serious, the psychotech replied, “I am concerned that you haven’t kept in touch with us, Mr. Christopher. We have set up three appointments for your examination, and you haven’t shown up for any of them.”

  Dan shrugged. “As you said, I’m very busy.”

  “Yes, of course. But your health is of primary importance. You cannot perform your exacting tasks if you are in poor health.”

  “I feel fine.”

  Dr Hsai closed his eyes when he nodded. “Perhaps so. But your condition may not reflect itself in physical symptoms that are obvious to you. You were discharged from the infirmary with the understanding that you would return for periodic examinations.”

  Dan could feel the heat rising within him. “Now listen. I am busy. And all you want to do is ask me more stupid questions and probe my mind. I don’t have to allow that. I’m performing my job and I feel fine. There’s no way you can force me to submit to your brain-tinkering!”

  “Mr. Christopher!” Dr Hsai looked shocked.

  “Let me remind you of something, Doctor,” Dan went on “We’re right now decelerating toward Alpha Centauri. Our reactors are feeding the ship’s main engines on a very, very carefully programmed schedule. This ship can’t tak
e more than a tiny thrust loading—we’re simply not built to stand high thrust, it’d tear us apart.”

  “Everyone knows this.”

  “Do they? This is a very delicate part of the flight A slight miscalculation or a tiny flaw in the reactors could rip open the ship and kill everybody. I’d suggest that you stop bothering me and let me concentrate on my job. Save your brain-picking for after we’re safely in orbit and the rocket engines are shut down.”

  “I am only…”

  Dan could sense that the others in the control room had turned to stare at him. But he concentrated on the phone screen. “I don’t care what you are only,” he snapped “And I don’t care who’s trying to find reason to slap me back in the infirmary even if it’s the Chairman himself. I’m going to stay on this job and get it done right. Understand?”

  Dr Hsai nodded, his smile gone. “I am sorry to have interrupted your very important work,” he said.

  The psychotech gently touched his phone’s switch, and Dan Christopher’s image faded from the screen. Dr Hsai sat in his desk chair for a long moment, eyes closed, mouth pursed meditatively.

  7

  It was late at night. Dr. Loring padded slowly up the long, winding metal stairs toward the observatory section in the ship’s hub. The tubes that connected the lowermost rings of the huge ship had power ladders, and a man could ride comfortably at the touch of a button. Most people climbed the stairs anyway, because of the shortage of electricity while the main generator was dow.n But Dr Loring felt it was his privilege to ride the power ladders.

  Up here, though, above the fourth level, it was all muscle work. No power ladders, just endless winding metal steps. Not easy for a heavy old man. Even though the gravity fell off rapidly at these higher levels, Loring sweated and muttered to himself as he climbed. It was dark in the tunnels. The regular lights had been shut off, and only the widely spaced dim little emergency lights broke the darkness.

  He stopped at the seventh level to catch his breath. Halfway up the next tube, he knew, he could just about float with hardly touching the steps at all. Time for a rest.

  The hatch just to his left opened onto the Propulsion and Power offices, he knew. The hatch to his right led to the reactors. Loring wanted no part of them. With an effort he began climbing the next set of steps, leaving level seven below him.

  “Insomnia,” he muttered to himself. “The curse of an old man. Bumbling about in the dark, ruining my heart and my stomach, when I ought to be sound asleep in my own bed.”

  The weightlessness was getting to him now. No matter how many times he came to the observatory, the first few minutes of nearly O g always turned his stomach over. It felt like falling, endlessly falling. Something primitive inside his brain wanted to scream, and his stomach definitely wanted something more solid to work with.

  If only it wasn’t so dark, Loring thought. He held tightly to the stair railing as his feet floated free of the steps. At least he could keep some sense of up and down, that would help. Like a swimmer guiding himself along a rope, he pulled himself along the railing until his balding head bumped gently on a hatch.

  Dr Loring swore to himself softly, opened the hatch manually—the automatic controls were shut down—and floated through into the observatory.

  For a terrified moment he thought he was outside in space itself.

  The observatory was almost entirely plastiglass, a big dome of transparent plastic that made it look as if there was absolutely nothing between him and the stars. In an instant his fright passed, and then he smiled and floated like a child on a cloud, turning slowly around in midair to see his oldest friends.

  Alpha Centauri, and way out there, I see you. Proxima. The Cross and Achernar. He turned again. How dim and far away you are, my Sun. And Cassiopeia, and bright Polaris. Yes, still there. Eternally, eh? Eternally. Or close enough to it.

  Gradually, he became aware of dark shapes around him, blotting out parts of the sky. He knew what they were. Telescopes, recording equipment, video screens and cameras, computer terminals. The tools of the astronomer’s trade.

  He “swam” down to the desk that was shoehorned into the midst of all the equipment, and touched a button on its surface. The viewscreen on the desktop lit up, showing an intensified view of what the main telescope was looking at the two main stars of the Alpha Centauri system, and between them, two specks of light that were planets.

  Dr. Loring swiveled his chair around and activated the computer terminal. Its smaller screen stayed dark, but the READY light beside it glowed green.

  Checking the time on his wristwatch, Dr Loring stated the date, his name, and the code words for the computer memory section that his work was being filed under. Then…

  “Re-position the main telescope for observation of Epsilon Indi.”

  The hum of electrical motors, and the bulky shape of the main telescope began to swing across the background of stars over the old man’s head. Loring watched the viewscreen, and saw a bright orange star center itself in the picture.

  “Analysis of last week’s observations have shown,” he recited for the computer’s memory bank, “that both Epsilon Eridani and Epsilon Indi have planetary companions. Both stars are K-sequence, brighter and hotter than the red dwarfs observed earlier. The mass of Epsilon Eridani’s companion is about one-hundredth of Jupiter’s or roughly three times Earth’s. This is a preliminary figure, and may apply to the total masses of several planets, although only one has been observed so far. The purpose of tonight’s observation is to gain mass data on the companion or companions of Epsilon Indi. Spectroscopic measurements can be…”

  He stopped. There was something moving among the shadows. The only light in the huge sepulcher-like observatory came from the dimly glowing viewscreen and the stars themselves But something had definitely moved out near the main telescope.

  “Who’s there?” Dr Loring called out.

  No answer.

  Annoyed, he raised his voice “I know I saw someone moving out there. Now, I don’t want to ruin my night sight by turning on the lights, but if you don’t come out and… “

  A hand on his shoulder made him jump.

  “Wha…who…”

  “You weren’t supposed to be here,” a voice whispered “Old fool, you should have been safely in bed.”

  “Who is it? What…”

  Loring caught just the swiftest impression of a hand swinging toward him, then his skull seemed to explode and everything went completely blank.

  As the old man slumped in his seat, the lean figure standing over him bent down and felt for a pulse. Then he pushed Loring out of the seat. The astronomer drifted weightlessly off, bumped against the computer terminal desk, and slid gently to the deck.

  The lithe dark figure touched buttons on the computer terminal. Dr Loring’s series of observations played out on the screen all the astronomer’s words, the notes he made, the figures he had the computer draw up, the tapes of the telescope pictures. The finger touched one more button. ERASE. The computer thought it over for a microsecond, then flashed a question onto its screen: PLS CONFIRM ERASE COMMAND.

  “You don’t want to be blanked out either, do you?” The figure smiled, and touched the ERASE button again. WORKING, the computer flashed. ERASURE COMPLETED. The dark figure nodded solemnly, then turned and picked up Dr Loring by the collar of his coverall and dragged him lightly to the hatch. Opening it, he pushed the astronomer’s portly body through. It floated down the tube, slowly at first, but as the gravity force steepened, it began to fall faster and faster. The dark figure watched as Loring’s body flicked past the dim emergency lights.

  “Dropping like a bomb,” he murmured without humor, without hatred, without any emotion at all. “They’ll find him three or four levels below; what’s left of him.”

  Larry strode stiffly down the corridor, which was still shadowy in the dim night lighting. It seemed like an endless treadmill, featureless except for the doors on each side. The soothing pastel colors o
f the walls were faded to an undistinguished gray in the poor light. The tiled floor curved up and away in both directions, following the huge smooth circle of the ship’s largest ring, it was uphill no matter which way you looked, although there was never any sensation of climbing at all.

  But it looked uphill, and Larry felt as if he was straining up a sheer cliff wall. He didn’t even bother to glance at the nameplates on the doors he knew exactly which door he wanted.

  He got there and stopped. With a deep breath, he tapped lightly on the door.

  Valery opened it immediately.

  “Larry, what is it?” she whispered urgently “What’s wrong? On the phone you looked…”

  He still looked haggard, worried, deeply troubled.

  “Is your mother awake?” he asked as he stepped into the Loring’s quarters.

  “No, I didn’t wake her. I think Dad’s up at the observatory. I heard him go out a couple of hours ago. He was trying to be quiet, but he can never…”

  She saw the expression on his face and stopped talking. Now Valery looked alarmed.

  “There’s been an accident,” Larry said.

  Her mouth opened but no sound came out.

  “Your father… he must’ve slipped off and fell… down three levels of tube…”

  “Oh no!” Val covered her face with her hands.

  Larry went on in an emotionless monotone. “One of the camera monitors spotted him. We’ve got him in the infirmary— the medics don’t think he’ll make it. He’s pretty badly mangled.”

  She collapsed into his arms. Larry held her and fought down every impulse to relax his inner self-control. Somebody’s got to be strong. Somebody’s got to keep his head clear. Can’t give in to emotions. Can’t relax. Not now. Not yet.

  So he was strong and calm, any sense of fear or sadness or guilt bottled deep inside him. He helped Val to calm down. Then they woke Mrs. Loring and broke the news to her. It took the better part of an hour before she was dressed, trembling and with tear-streaked face. The three of them went wordlessly to the infirmary.

  Dr. Loring was in the same cubicle that Dan had been in. His body made a puffy mound on the liquid-filled mattress. His face was unrecognizable: half hidden in plastic spray bandages, half battered and discolored. Arms and legs were covered by plastic casts. Tubes ran from a battery of machines alongside the bed into his body, his nostrils, his head.