Flight of Exiles

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 of 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.

Larry glanced at the life indications panel above the bed: heart rate, respiration, alpha rhythm, metabolic level, blood pressure—all low, feeble.

Mrs. Loring collapsed. She simply fainted, and Larry had to grab her before she slumped to the floor. A pair of nurses appeared out of nowhere and took her off, muttering, “Shock… hypertensive…”

A medic came in a few moments later.

“I think it would be best for us to keep Mrs. Loring here, at least for the rest of the night.”

Larry nodded.

“How’s…” Val’s voice was shaky. “Wh…what are the chances for my father…?”

The medic tried to smile but couldn’t quite force it through. “We’re doing everything we can. I think he’s stabilizing—that is, his life signs aren’t growing any worse, at least not over the past half-hour or so. But he’s in very poor shape… he needs extensive surgery. It’s probably beyond our limited capabilities. …”

Larry said, “There are expert surgeons in cryosleep, aren’t there?”

“A few.” The medic nodded. “I don’t know the details of their backgrounds—”

“I’ll have them checked out. Maybe we can revive them.”

“Revive them? That takes special permission—”

“I know,” Larry said.

“And the revival procedure itself takes weeks,” the medic went on. “We’d have to suspend Dr. Loring in cryosleep until the surgical team could be made ready for him. I’m not certain he’d survive freezing, in the condition he’s in.”

Larry could feel Val’s weight leaning against his arm. Without looking down at her, he told the medic, “Dr. Loring is a very important member of the Council, and as close to me as my own father. Closer, in fact. I want every resource at our disposal brought to bear to save him. I’ve already lost one father… I don’t want to lose another. Do you understand?”

“Certainly, Mr. Chairman.” The medic almost bowed. “Everything that can be done, will be, I assure you.”

Turning to Val, Larry said, “All right. Come on, let’s get out of here. There’s nothing we can do except wait.”

Slowly, he led her out of the infirmary.

As they walked along the curving corridor to nowhere in particular, Larry said, “I want you to call a friend, somebody who can stay with you. I don’t want you to stay alone.”

“All right,” she said quietly.

He glanced at his wristwatch: almost time for the morning shift to start.

“Larry…”

“What?”

Valery’s face was pale, her eyes frightened. “It’s like a sickness is sweeping through the ship, isn’t it? The fire, and Dan’s accusations, and now Dad…everything’s going crazy.”

For a few moments Larry didn’t answer. The only sounds were the padding of their slippered feet on the floor tiles, their own breathing, and the vaster breathing of the ship’s air circulation fans.

“Maybe,” he said at last, “it is a sickness. Maybe there’s a madman among us.”

She should have looked surprised. But she didn’t. “You mean Dan.” It wasn’t a question.

Larry shook his head “I don’t want to make accusations. Dan’s been acting peculiarly since his father died, but that doesn’t mean…”

“It’s all my fault!” Val suddenly burst out, her eyes filling with tears.

“Your fault?”

“I’ve come between you. Dan hates me because I picked you, not him. He wants to get rid of you…destroy you. He thinks you killed his father, deliberately. And now…and now…” She couldn’t speak anymore. She was crying.

And now he’s tried to kill Dr Loring, my foster father. Is that what she’s saying?

The Council members were already in their seats, looking deathly grim, when Larry entered the Council room. The only empty chair was Dr Loring’s.

Taking his own seat, Larry said as unemotionally as he could, “I’m sorry to be late I was in the infirmary. Dr Loring is still alive, but just barely. The medics have decided to place him in cryosleep until a surgical team is revived for an attempt to save his life.”

“If there is such a team among us,” said one of the older Council members. “I don’t seem to recall too many surgeons among our original number. Biochemists and geneticists, yes, plenty of those. But surgeons?”

Larry nodded curtly “The computer is searching the personnel files for the right people. If they’re found, I assume the Council is willing to waive the usual rules about retiring one person for each person revived? This is an emergency situation, after all.”

They muttered and nodded assent.

“And if there is no surgical team capable of helping him?” Adrienne Kaufman asked.

“We’ll just have to keep Dr Loring in cryosleep until some of our younger members can be trained sufficiently well to operate on him.”

“That could take a generation!”

“Once he’s in cryosleep safely, it doesn’t matter.”

“The old man shouldn’t have been wandering around the tubes by himself,” said a young Councilman. “Accidents can happen to the best of us.”

“Was it an accident?” Dan Christopher asked, from his seat at the far end of the table “Seems to me we’ve been having far too many accidents lately.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Larry wanted to say something, to take command of the discussion, but he didn’t know how to do it without stirring Dan’s antagonism even further.

“What was Dr Loring doing up there,” Dan asked, “at that time of night? What was he working on? His daughter tells me he’s been spending lots of his time in the observatory on some special task.”

A couple of the Council members turned to glance at Larry. He would mention Valery, Larry said to himself, trying to keep cold hatred from numbing his whole body.

“It’s no secret,” Adrienne Kaufman said haughtily. “Everyone knew that Dr. Loring was looking for other Earthlike planets, around other stars. At least, almost everyone knew.” She stared icily at Dan.

“But there’s no record of his work in the computer memory,” Dr. Polanyi said. “I ran a check yesterday, when I first heard about the accident.”

“It was no accident,” Dan said firmly “And his work was erased from the computer.”

“What?”

“How can you say that?”

“It’s ridiculous.”

Dan leaped to his feet. “Ridiculous, is it? How’d you like to see proof that there’s a murderer among us?”

Everyone started talking, arguing, shouting at once.

“Quiet!” Larry roared.

They all froze in mid-word. Arms stopped waving, voices hushed, and everyone turned to look at the Chairman.

Quietly, calmly, coldly, Larry said to Dan, “What’s this all about?”

“I’ve been checking into the computer, too,” Dan said, his dark eyes flashing. “And I’ve found something that shows there’s an organized plot to undermine our whole flight…a madman’s running loose, trying to kill us all!”

They all started jabbering again.

“Wait,” Larry said, silencing them with a raised hand. “Dan, if you have such proof, by all means, let’s see it. Right now.”

Dan jabbed at a button on the small tabletop keyboard at his place. “You’ll see it all right.”

The wall screen at the far end of the room lit up and showed a human face. Louis Christopher, Dan’s father, the driving force that made the ship, the voyage, their lives possible.

As Louis Christopher began to speak, Larry could think of nothing except the enormous likeness between father and son. The same long, lean, dark face. The same handsome features. The same intense, burning eyes.

“None of you will see this tape until I’m dead,” Louis Christopher was saying. “The fact mat you are viewing it now means that I have died. I hope that my death was a solitary affair, and hasn’t affected the performance of our ship or the success of our voyage.”

Christopher seemed to be staring straight at the camera, trying almost to hypnotize it, Larry thought. The effect was as if he was staring straight at the viewer, face to face.

“As I speak to you, our journey has just begun. Earth still looms large behind us. The stars are very far away. There are many among us who oppose this voyage, who think it’s madness. Many among us were satisfied to remain aboard this ship in orbit around the Earth forever, prisoners, exiles for life.

“We voted to aim for the stars, though, and that’s where we’re going. Still, many are grumbling. They fear the unknowns of deep space. They’re afraid of leaving Earth behind permanently.

“They may try to subvert our voyage. They may decide that they’d rather be exiles near Earth than free men among the stars. They may try to get us to return to Earth.

“That’s why I’m making this tape. Since I must now be dead, it makes no further difference to me what you do. But it does make a difference to the future generations, to our children and their children. Continue the voyage! Don’t let this magnificent ship, and our wonderfully brave people, be taken over by the fearful and timid. The stars are ours! We have the opportunity to reach Alpha Centauri and begin a new life there, on a literally new world. Reject anyone who would do otherwise!”

Several of the Council members shifted in their chairs. A few turned to glance at Larry.

“Our people have worked hard and struggled against titanic odds and risked everything they have,” Louis Christopher continued, “to get to Alpha Centauri. We’ve pledged ourselves and mortgaged future generations yet unborn to make a new world for ourselves, far from Earth’s decay and madness. You must continue until you reach that goal.

“Now let me point out another danger. It seems unlikely that the planets of Alpha Centauri will be exactly like Earth. We have, though, the means to adapt our children genetically to live on a different world. Don’t be tempted to go further than Alpha Centauri. I know the construction of this ship, its limits and capabilities. It won’t last long enough to reach another star. Settle on Alpha Centauri; to do otherwise will be to destroy the ship, the voyage, and every one of you.

“It won’t be easy to change your children physically so that they can live on a strange world. But it must be done. It is the only way. Be strong. Be brave. Good luck. And good-bye.”

The screen went dead.

For a long half-minute no one moved or spoke. Then one of the Councilmen coughed nervously, and they all turned in their seats, murmuring to each other. Dan remained standing by his chair, visibly trembling with emotion.

Larry said as gently as he could, “Is that what you call proof of murder?”

“What more proof do you need?” Dan blazed back. “He knew this would happen! He knew someone would try to subvert the whole voyage, push on to another star, get us all killed. He warned us.”

“But how does that prove he was murdered?” one of the women asked.

“Or that Dr. Loring’s accident wasn’t accidental?”

Glowering at them, Dan replied, “We all know that if my father were alive now, he’d be revived and we’d vote him Chairman.”

Larry said nothing.

“And we also know that Dr. Loring was looking for another planet around some other star. If he had found such a planet he’d be blathering it all over the ship. He said nothing, because he couldn’t find another Earthlike world. In fact, he must have found evidence for no planets, or hostile planets… because whoever tried to kill him erased his work from the computer memory so that we’d never know what he’d found.”

Larry pointed toward Dan and shouted out, “Or he might have found a new Earth somewhere, much better for us than the Centaurian planet, and his would-be murderer tried to keep us from finding that out!”

They glared at each other from opposite ends of the table, wordless for a moment.

“This is getting us nowhere,” Adrienne Kaufman said.

Larry took a deep, calming breath. “The truth of the matter is that there’s no evidence of murder, not of anyone at any time. All the deaths and near-deaths that we’ve had can be attributed to accidental causes. And anyone,” he stared right at Dan, “who insists on finding foul play behind every accident on this ship is running the risk of being thought insane.”

Dan stood there, shaking with rage, face flaming. Then he spun around and stamped out of the Council room.

Larry turned to the chief meditech, who was sitting halfway down the table.

“I want him in the infirmary immediately. And I want him checked out even if you have to strap him down. We can’t have a madman running loose aboard this ship!”

Because if he is insane, Larry said to himself, maybe he is a murderer!