Exiles Trilogy, page 44
part #99 of Exiles Series
The answer came immediately:
“76 HR II MIN I4.08 SEC.”
“Start the countdown sequence at T minus three hours.”
“ACKNOWLEDGED.”
“How long will we be within transfer range?”
“53 MIN I2,6444I SEC.”
“The matter transmitter will have to be cycled so that it can accept one person every fifty seconds or so. Can it do that automatically?”
“AUTOMATIC CIRCUITRY NOT OPERATIVE. MANUAL CONTROL NECESSARY.”
Which means I’ll have to stay aboard until the last person goes through the transmitter. Linc told himself.
He pushed his chair away from the computer desk and glanced at the countdown sequencer, a few desks down the row. Its central screen read:
“76 HR I0 MIN 06 SEC.”
And counting, Linc added silently.
He spent most of the time up in the hub, away from everyone. He ate from the food machines and slept, a deep, long, restful sleep. Then he returned to the bridge to check the matter transmitter.
The machine didn’t look as impressive as the long row of desks and controls on the bridge. There was a transparent plastic booth, big enough to hold a person. There was a gleaming metal console that housed complex electronic circuits snaking Out of it. Linc had traced the power cables along the outside of the main tube-tunnel, straight into the fusion generators up near the hub. There was a control desk studded with knobs and switches. Linc would have to operate it smoothly, without a single wasted motion, if he was to save everyone aboard the ship.
He nodded to himself as he touched the buttons that activated the transmitter’s self-inspection sensors. The checking circuit’s green lights glowed at him. The machine was ready to function properly.
Linc frowned as he tried to fathom what fantastic powers must lie inside this machine. Jerlet had told him what the transmitter did: it transformed the atoms of whatever material was put inside it, changed them into energy that could be beamed like light for a certain distance. There was a receiving machine that had to be at the other end of the beam, which took the incoming energy and transformed it back to the original object. Put a person into the transmitter and he could be beamed instantly from the ship to the new world.
If there was enough power.
If the ship was close enough to the planet.
If the receiver was set up properly on the planet’s surface.
If the person would actually take the risk of stepping inside a machine that would literally destroy his body completely.
We can get the power by shutting down everything else aboard the ship. Linc told himself. And the remaining rockets can put us close enough to the planet for nearly an hour. The receiver’s set to blast off by itself; it operates automatically.
“That leaves only one problem,” he muttered.
He went to find Magda. She wasn’t in her room, she wasn’t with Monel. She wasn’t anywhere in the living area. Linc checked the library: empty. Then he realized where she must be.
He dashed up to the second level, soared with giant strides to the observation window.
She was kneeling on the floor, staring out at the yellow sun. Even through the heavy tint of the polarized window, Baryta glared bright and angry. Linc could see tongues of flame licking from the star’s surface, beckoning to them, reaching for them.
“Magda,” he called softly.
She looked up at him. “It’s all right, Linc. I’m not meditating. Come sit beside me.”
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Waiting.”
“For what?”
She shrugged and looked back toward the window. “For you. Or the yellow star. Whichever reaches me first.”
“I’m here.”
“You’ve found a way to save us.”
“Yes.”
She seemed neither surprised nor pleased. “I knew you would.”
“There’s something I want you to do,” he said.
“What is it?”
“You’ve got to be the first to go through the matter transmitter.”
She turned to him, her face perfectly serious, utterly calm.”! can’t be, Linc. You know that. I can’t use your machines... any of them. You see how we were punished when I tried to help you on the bridge.”
A bright flash flared outside the window, and a long flaming streak dwindled off into the distance, heading for the tiny blue crescent that was Beryl.
“That’s the receiver. It’s in an automatic rocket that will land on Beryl’s surface and wait for us.”
Despite herself, Magda looked curious. “How did you make it do that? What did you do?”
He laughed. “The machines did it. They were built long, long ago by the scientists who lived in the ship. People who were old and gone before Jerlet was born.”
“They made the machines,” Magda said.
“Yes, and Jerlet showed me how to fix them so that they’ll work properly.”
She was still kneeling, her back rigid, her eyes dark and sad. “Linc, I can’t touch your machines. I’ve been thinking about it, and meditating on it. I just can’t. It would be wrong.”
“It would be right for you to die?”
“Maybe.”
“No maybe about it. And not only you—everybody on the ship will die, too. Because if you don’t use the matter transmitter, nobody else will.”
She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Linc. There’s nothing else I can do.”
He grasped her by the shoulders. “Listen to me! There’s no choice for you. None at all. I’m going to destroy the ship. If you don’t go through the transmitter, you’ll be dead! Not maybe, not a year from now, but in just a few hours. This is for real. There’s no other way. It’s either go through the transmitter to the new world, or die here with the ship. The ship will be falling apart as we leave.”
Her eyes were wide now. And angry. “You couldn’t! No one would be able to destroy the ship... it’s our home—”
“Only for another few hours,” Linc answered. “I had to do it, and it’s already done. Just as that rocket took off for Beryl with the matter receiver, that’s how automatically the ship is going to fall apart.”
“You’re going to kill us all!”
“I’m going to save you all!”
“You’ve gone crazy!” Magda screamed. “The machines have turned you into a monster!”
He stood up, grabbed her by the wrist, and yanked her to her feet. “Listen to me and listen hard. There’s no more time to play your little games of balancing me against Monel. If you want to be a priestess to these people, then you’d better open your eyes to the truth. This ship is going to die in a few hours. Anyone left aboard will freeze, just like the ghosts.”
Magda tried to pull her hand free, but Linc just held it tighter.
“If you really want to be the leader here,” he went on, “then you’ve got to lead. If you don’t step into that transmitter booth, none of the others will. We’ll all die. You’ve got to lead us to life, Magda. If you’re really our priestess, now is the time to set an example for everybody. Life or death! It’s up to you.”
20
Magda sat at the countdown desk, sullenly rubbing her wrist and glaring at Linc.
He was at the computer desk, staring intently at a display from the astrogation computer. The blue Linc that marked their course had several kinks in it, each k ink jogging the Linc closer to the planet Beryl. A red flashing dot showed where the ship was at the moment. It was almost at the first kink.
“The main rockets will fire in another few seconds,” Linc said to Magda. “That is, the ones that are still working.”
He slid his chair over beside hers and touched a button on the countdown desk-top keyboard. The main screen continued to show the countdown for their transfer to Beryl. The lower left-hand screen of the group now showed a countdown for the rocket firing. It read: T MINUS 00 00 38.
“Hold on,” Linc told her. “This might be a rough blast.”
“More violence,” she snarled at him.
“If you call what I did violence—
The bridge shook. It vibrated as if some giant’s hand had grabbed it and was shaking it to see if anything inside would rattle out. Linc felt his teeth grating together and he gripped the edge of the desk to keep from falling off his chair. A deep rumbling growl filled the air: the giant’s voice. Magda clutched at Linc, and he put an arm around her.
As abruptly as it started, the noise and vibration stopped. It didn’t dwindle away; it stopped.
Magda pulled away from Linc immediately. Linc turned and looked at the astrogation display.
“Right on course.” The flashing red dot was squarely on the blue Linc, but now it was past the first bend.
“You should have warned the people about that,” Magda said. “Somebody could have gotten hurt.”
“There’s worse to come.”
“There’s going to be more blasts like that?”
He nodded. Pointing to the screen, he said, “See? Two more. And then we’re on a course that will sweep past the planet. As we fly by it, for a little less than an hour we’ll be close enough to make the jump down to Beryl’s surface. After that, the ship will swing out of range.”
Magda said, “I’ll go out and tell the people.”
“No! You stay right her^. You can talk to them on the loudspeaker... two seats down, the communications desk. You used it before.”
Magda got slowly to her feet. She eyed the hatch that led out to the passageway. For a moment, Linc was afraid that she would walk out on him. Then she stepped over to the communications desk.
She stared at the keyboard for a long moment, then looked back at Linc.
“The red button next to the microphone,” he said. “It won’t hurt you. Just tap it with your finger.”
She looked as if he was telling her to shove her hand into a flame. But she touched the red button, pulling her hand away from it almost before her finger reached it.
“Fine,” Linc said to her. “Now all you have to do is sit down and talk.”
Slowly she sat at the desk, frowning at the tiny microphone. Then she said, “This is Magda. Listen to me. Don’t be afraid. The blast that we just went through was caused by the rockets firing. Linc has worked out a way for us to get off the ship and reach the new world—”
As she spoke, Linc flicked the buttons on the computer keyboard that turned on the few TV cameras still working. Three of the screens in front of him showed people standing in the corridors, listening to Magda’s voice. People came out of their rooms to hear her. Linc saw Slav and Hollie. He couldn’t find Jayna in the crowd.
And there’s Monel. Doesn’t he look happy!
“... Don’t be afraid,” Magda was repeating. “We can reach the new world. The ship is dying, but Linc will bring us safely to the new world.”
She turned to look at him. “I can’t think of anything more to say.”
“Tell them to stand by for my orders. I’ll let them know when they have to move.”
Looking worried, Magda relayed Linc’s words to the people.
They began gathering at the bridge after the second rocket blast. Linc didn’t like them clustering around him, but they came anyway.
Should have locked the hatch, he grumbled to himself.
But they didn’t get in his way. They stood there silently, watching, staring at the screens that showed so many incomprehensible pictures, words, numbers. Linc could feel them at his back, breathing, waiting, wondering.
He glanced at Magda. She was sitting at the communications desk, her eyes closed and head bowed in meditation.
She’s got to go into the transmitter booth when I tell her to, Linc knew. If she doesn’t, we’re going to have a pack of crazy people going wild.
The countdown sequencer gave off a warning whistle, and the crowd of people shrank back from it, gasping.
“Don’t be afraid,” Linc said. “It’s just a signal that we’re going to have another rocket blast in five minutes. This’ll be the last one.” And the roughest.
They stared at the countdown screens, fascinated by the ever-changing numbers even though they couldn’t read them. A minute before the rockets were set to fire, Linc told them to lie down on the floor.
“Magda!” he called.
She raised her head and looked at him.
“Tell all the people who haven’t come up to the bridge yet to get down on the floor or on their bunks. Tell them to keep away from anything that might fall on them. They’ve got... fifty-one seconds to the final rocket burn.”
She spoke into the microphone. The crowd on the bridge lay down. Linc wedged his feet solidly against the desk supports and held onto the sides of his chair.
The giant spoke again. The roar, was bone-rattling. The whole bridge shook as if it was going to come apart. Someone screamed. Linc realized he had squeezed his eyes shut. He opened them and tried to focus on the screens in front of him, but everything was shaking too much. All he could see was a jangled, multicolored blue.
Then it stopped. Linc leaned forward to stare at the astrogation display. On course. He didn’t feel triumphant about it. Just grateful.
Magda was staring at him, watching him as intently as Linc himself watched the screens.
“Better tell everybody to start heading for the bridge. Now.” As she turned back to the microphone, Linc said to the people who were getting up off the floor, “There’s a short corridor on the other side of the hatch at the far end of the bridge. Linc up there in single file. No pushing and no panic. Everything’s going very smoothly, so let’s not foul it up by getting excited.”
A voice came screaming from the open airlock hatch that led to the passageway: “The farm tanks! Something’s happened to the pumps. They’ve stopped!”
Linc glanced at the screens that told him what the electrical power system was doing. Lights were going out all over the ship. Heaters, too. All on schedule.
The people were lining up in the corridor that led to the matter transmitter. But fresh voices were coming from the passageway that led to the living area:
“There’s no lights in the galley.”
“The air fans have stopped.”
“It’s getting cold out here! The heaters—”
Linc went to the communications desk and reached for the microphone. It pulled out of the desk top easily, trailing a hair-thin wire.
“Listen to me!” he Commanded. Magda pushed her chair back and stood beside him. “The ship is dying. We have only a little time to get off the ship and onto the new world. Linc up here at the bridge and get ready. Bring whatever you can carry with you; we won’t have time for anything else.”
He handed the mike to Magda, who took it with only the slightest grimace of distaste. “My robe,” she said. “My symbols—”
“No time,” Linc snapped. “I’ve got to .get the transmitter started. You keep the people calmed down as they come in here.
Get them in Linc. When I call you, you come. No arguments.”
She started to say something, but let it drop. She nodded and turned away from him.
“Don’t be afraid,” she said into the microphone. And she forced a smile for the people who were milling confusedly around the bridge. “Let’s Linc tip now, down there where the hatch is....”
Linc hurried past the Linc of people and opened the door to the transmitter room. He sat at the desk and started working the controls. The lights on the bridge dimmed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a few of the display screens beyond the Linc of heads and shoulders in the corridor. The screens were starting to flicker and go dark.
Every erg of power ----
Voices drifted in; Linc couldn’t tell if they were from the corridor, the bridge, or the passageway outside.
“The machines are dying.”
“Hey, I can see my breath... look it’s like little puffs of smoke.”
And Magda’s voice. “It’s all right. We’ll all reach the new world safely. Don’t be afraid.”
“But it’s cold!”
The lights on the control desk were all green.
Everything was ready. Linc got up, pushed through the people lined up in the corridor, and took a final look at the bridge’s countdown screen. It was one of the few left alive. Its yellow numerals glowed in the shadowy half-light of the darkened bridge.
“Magda,” he called. “Time to go.”
She let the mike fall from her hand and followed him to the transmitter room. As they stepped into the room itself, she whispered:
“You’ve given us no choice.”
“That’s right,” he said, leading her to the transmitter booth.
Magda hesitated for only an instant. As Linc swung the booth’s transparent plastic door open, she straightened her back and marched right inside. The people at the front of the Linc watched, goggle-eyed.
“Smile at them,” Linc whispered as he shut the door.
She put on a smile. To Linc it seemed obviously artificial.
He went swiftly to the desk, touched the controls, then let his hand hover over the orange ACTIVATE button. What if something’s wrong? What if the receiver landed in an area where we can’t live? What if I kill her?
“It’s freezing out here,” came a voice from the corridor.
Linc punched the orange button. The transmitter booth flared with a brilliant white-hot light for just an instant, then it was empty.
He stared at it for a moment, then turned to the people at the head of the Linc. They were staring, too.
“Did you see that?”
“She’s gone!”
“It’s magic!”
“All right,” Linc called, suddenly unbearably weary. “Come on. One at a time. To the new world.”
They did as they were told. There was no panic. A few of them were reluctant to enter the booth, obviously frightened. But the others in Linc jeered and joked at them; They all went in, with less than a minute between each one.
Linc operated the controls like an automaton, knowing that the real reason they all stepped blindly into the transmitter booth was not their faith in him or even in Magda. It was their fear of the obvious death of the ship. The bridge lights finally went out completely, leaving only the glowing fluorescent panels of the corridor and transmitter room to give a dim, eerie light. The heat ebbed away, and Linc’s fingers began to go numb as he punched the buttons on the transmitter’s keyboard _over and over again. Twenty times. Thirty. Forty-five. He shuffled his feet and stamped them, sending needles of pain up his legs.
