Unwillingly to Earth (v1.0), page 8
There is one man in the group however seems to feel he is here to Work, a short solid man with a corrugated face looks like it has been pleated while soft and the folds have then set hard. He is one of several who have Labeled themselves and the label reads SENATOR G. GASSETT-LOW, CINCINNATUS.
The way he Works is to ask the cost of everything in an accusing voice. I think half the time the Egghead does not know but manages to keep a straight face while Making it up; finally the Senator forgets where he is and asks how much the Cincinnatan Taxpayer—here the Egghead nips in smartly with Nothing At All; Experiments on this level are funded entirely from Earth.
The Senator makes a recovery and asks How about other Levels, then: the Egghead replies that Labsville has a few projects of special interest to certain planets and funded partly by them, but so far as he knows Cincinnatus only contributes to the Antibody Reserve Production Fund like the rest of the Outer Worlds, the Production unit is on Level VII.
A voice in my ear murmurs, “Poor old George! If only he knew!”
I am being spoken to by a Strange Man.
Not all that strange, he is one of the Five Planets party and I heard him being addressed as Tolly in tones indicating that if he is on the Second String he must be near the Top of it.
My Mother did not tell me Never to Speak to Strange Men because she left when I was 3; every other adult woman on Excenus 23 must have told me that one time or another but Dad’s injunctions were more about Judgment and Common Sense. Common Sense tells me I cannot get into difficulties in the middle of a crowd and Judgment tells me this man is far too comfortably set in his own niche in the Universe to be dangerous to girls young enough to be his daughter …
Grand-daughter maybe, he has that Well Preserved look. He is not handsome but full of Presence and Charm. I have had enough of being instructed and feel ready to be Charmed for a change so I murmur back “If he only knew what?”
He flashes a smile at me, a good one even if he has Practiced it.
“The Senator equates Public Expenditure with Public Waste; that’s the one Political principle he really is quite sure about, and how he loves to apply it!! So it’s bad luck that the only project here on which his planet has spent money should be an absolutely impregnable Sacred Cow-don’t you think?”
He twinkles his eyes and waits for me to spot that there is More to Come; it is like being back at Russett in a Seminar but I may as well play up.
I say “Sacred Cow? You mean the Antibody Reserve?” I fake a bit of shock to keep him happy but come to think of it maybe I could supply the Real Thing.
I mean the Reserve Antibody Production Fund is one of the very few examples of all planets working together for the Common Good: it saved thousands of lives during epidemics on Miranda and Lemonchik and Yudhisthira, millions if you count people on other planets who might have got the diseases if they had not been Stopped. It was in my very first History book.
Tolly smiles again to show he Understands.
“Don’t take me wrong, m’luv, it was a great idea when it started. Trouble is, it’s out of date. The point is to have stocks of vaccine ready to be rushed where they are needed, right? But what actually happens if an epidemic breaks out on one of the Outer Worlds, these days?”
I think back to the last time somebody landed on Ex-cenus 23 with a cold in the head, back when I was 8, and say “The planetary Hospital makes cultures and grows a vaccine of its own.”
“Right! With modem automated plants they can get vaccines tailored to the precise strain involved, in ten days or so, whereas to get it from the nearest Regional Depot might take several weeks … A good many of the scientists here feel that the Sacred Cow has grown into a White Elephant. They’d like to be able to use the space and manpower for something else.”
I say “Why don’t they? Labsville is run by the Scientists, isn’t it?”
Tolly shakes his head.
“No, m’dear. When you get down to bedrock, no. The scientists get the use of the facilities, but they don’t own the place. It was set up originally by three or four big charitable foundations and they still have control. Why d’you think heart cases are employed to carry out simple routine jobs when it would be so much simpler to use automation? Because about two thirds of Labsville belongs to the Human Heart Foundation. It wasn’t excavated originally for scientific purposes but to house and treat anybody with an incurably bad heart who could get himself here, and supply him with a new one, free. A handful of really rich men who didn’t want to burden their families with too many billions set it up. Then the medical staffs found that keeping men around for a year or two with nothing useful to do created problems in itself. So they offered space and facilities and grants to any scientist who’d design his work so as to provide jobs for EFs. Tricky—a lot of brilliant men have walked out in disgust over the difficulties. Lot of others have made their reputations here, though. More EFs the scientist employs, more space and money he gets from the Foundation.
“However, they don’t own Reserve Antibody, of course. The snag there is the Lunar Gov. They don’t want it cut down.”
I say “Why not?” and Tolly smiles again.
“Tourism, m’dear. It’s the biggest sightseeing attraction on Luna. Practically an Ancient Monument.”
The whole party has been walking for some time down several of the long steep slopes they have here instead of stairs, and right now we are entering the Department of Reserve Antibody Production, so when I wince I guess Tolly takes it for a start of Amazement or maybe Awe.
It is a huge long wide space that looks very low because of its Proportions, actually the ceiling is five meters up which is high for Labsville but the effect is that we have all crawled into a vast horizontal Slot.
The Culture Units are enormous glass sausages, they rest on cradles which can be Swung Tilted or even Shaken and inside are more glass Compartments Channels Racks Plates and so on than I can distinguish. The cradles pivot on thick glass columns with liquids flowing inside, these reach the Ceiling and appear to hold it up but being transparent they give me a feeling of Insecurity.
Tolly has gone off to charm somebody else. The Egghead is busy explaining why it is Not dangerous to breed pathogens en masse in a totally enclosed Armorplated environment. This is not what worries me, I am prepared to believe the Authorities know what they are doing; what I do not enjoy is the Impression that the ceiling is slowly coming down as in one or two of the books I recently read, so I make unobtrusively for a way out.
There are several very wide gaps in the side wall making this place more or less continuous with the corridor beyond; I am in mid-stride and nearing Escape when there is a shout behind me of “Junior!” Would you believe it Lanky appears suddenly before me on a Collision course.
We each put down a toe and manage to Steer sideways and this time he goes the opposite way and Rebounds off the side of the gap. I stop politely to see if he has broken anything but when he untangles his legs they seem to be Working so I go on my way.
It is time to join Clarence for lunch.
The Cafeteria is another great big slot. I think perhaps I prefer my Architecture tubular but at least this has pillars of solid rock. Clarence still has Things on his Mind but is putting a lot of effort into being an Entertaining Host so I fix my thoughts on being Entertained and by common consent we get through the meal quickly and prepare to go.
On the way out Clarence is nailed by a Senior-looking Egghead and I withdraw out of Earshot, at least I thought I had until I heard the Egghead exclaim “Why in Luna should she object, under the circumstances?”
Turns out two of the Five Planets party want to see Rats and the Egghead wishes to attach them to Clarence and me.
No of course I can’t object. We arrange to meet them in the Rodent Habitats section in ten minutes’ time; now I shall never learn what is eating Clarence I suppose.
The Rats inhabit long oblong blocks separated by corridors. Clarence switches on a red light inside one of them and shows up an absolute hurrah’s nest of tunnels going Up down and along at every angle but all sooner or later turning inwards and out of sight. He explains that all the Scientific observations are made by Sensors inside the block connected to Computers and Screens, the glass panels are just for sightseers like me.
Also like the two members of the Five Planets party now approaching under the escort of the Senior Egghead. Oh Hell and Handbaskets they are the Senator from Cincinnatus and Lanky Junior.
The Egghead introduce Senator Gossy Lowell and his Nephew and departs.
The Senator is Not pleased at being misnamed and puts that right in a gravelly growl, adding that since his Nephew insists on seeing Rats we might as well get on with it.
Okay by me but unfortunately the Rats do not cooperate.
The first block is full of wild-type Rattus norvegicus according to Clarence, who has started to recite their History when the Senator who has been inspecting a notice affixed to the Environment interrupts.
“That’s all written out here. We can read it for ourselves.”
I state loud and clear that I am using my eyes to look for Rats and would like Mr. Dalrymple to Continue, please.
The Senator gobbles, Junior utters a faint snort, Clarence goes on talking and I continue to watch for Rats which would be Sucks to the Senator except that there aren’t any.
Rats, I mean. After 20 minutes we decide there must be something Special going on in the middle of this block and move on to the next.
The next block is inhabited by a Mutant strain with white hair and pink eyes which must look especially Evil I think, but unfortunately after another 20 minutes I am still unable to Confirm this.
It is all just a Statistical Accident otherwise known as Bad Luck but the Senator decides it is a Conspiracy. Junior starts to say something but is snapped to silence by his Uncle who demands that Clarence take them to rejoin the rest of their party. Clarence starts to insist on my Right to see a Rat if it takes all Night and he is Not going to leave me here alone; so I look at my watch and announce it is time to go for my Train. I bid the Senator and Junior a Distant farewell and Clarence a warm one and set off.
Actually I have 50 minutes before the Train which is just as well. In the rest room at the Station I discover I have not got my Reading Machine or the pouch of book reels. Clarence, having taken them over by Politeness reflex, is still carrying them.
No help for it I have to get them back even if I miss the Train. I start retracing my steps. These were quite numerous and I forget some, it takes me twenty minutes to find Rodent Environments: where I suddenly realize Clarence is now Somewhere Else.
This is the moment a Rat chooses to come out of a tunnel and Look at me; I begin to suspect they really are inimical to Man or at any rate to Me.
There is an Incom system, a series of communicator boxes every 100 meters or so, maybe I can call somebody and ask where Clarence is.
I have gone about 3 Lunar paces when the most godawful Wailing noise breaks out all round and I Jump so hard I literally hit the Roof.
When I descend the sound is starting to drop also, right down the scale like a Cosmic mucksucker lamenting the Dead; then it is replaced by a Voice.
“ATTENTION PLEASE.
“Those of you who work here will have recognized the Emergency Siren. We apologize to any of our visitors who were startled.”
This Means Me.
“Because of a slight mishap, access to this Level is temporarily closed. If you will all go as quickly as possible to Room Seven See Twenty-three, following the illuminated arrows, a member of the staff will meet you there and explain. There is no cause for alarm, just a temporary local hitch in the arrangements for your tour. Please follow the illuminated arrows to room Seven See Twenty-three.”
I would be glad to but there is a Temporary Local Hitch, viz. No arrows in sight. However the lights now start to dim and arrows gradually become visible on the floor. I start to follow them as fast as I can. This is not very because I have somehow forgotten all I learned about Locomotion in Low G; so I stop and take a deep breath and start Exercising as directed on board the Lift and presently I am proceeding in high gear touching the floor about once every three meters or so.
I have done this about 200 times and made several Tims when my foot touches something in mid-glide and I trip slowly over and land on top of it.
Who the hell left that here and what is it anyway—? I sort myself out and it makes a faint Moaning sound like a distant echo of that siren thing. Oh Stars it is someone lying here Hurt and Unconscious, now what do I do?
Illumination has got even dimmer, those damn arrows are glowing like crazy but I can barely see that what I fell over is long and skinny and wearing tight dark clothes; then I see there is something light on the shoulder blades and by peering close I make out the letters cincinnatus.
In short this is Ghastly Junior.
The hair at the back of his head has a dark patch on it that comes off on my finger.
Blood, I suppose. However the pulse in his neck is beating all right.
Head Injuries you should not move around but leave them to Professionals: I stand up and holler “Help!” half a dozen times.
No reply.
If only I knew what type of Emergency this is, for all I know Junior is as safe here as anywhere; but also for all I know some sort of Venomous animals kept for Antitoxins may be loose; or a horde of Mutant Rats; even the Plain sort have been known to Eat people who could not get away. But—
“ATTENTION PLEASE, ANYBODY ON LEVEL SEVEN WHO HAS NOT YET REPORTED TO ROOM SEVEN SEE TWENTY-THREE PLEASE DO SO IMMEDIATELY. FOLLOW THE ILLUMINATED ARROWS TO ROOM SEVEN SEE TWENTY-THREE. THIS HAS PRIORITY. DROP EVERYTHING AND COME RUNNING TO ROOM SEVEN SEE TWENTY-THREE AS FAST AS YOU CAN.”
That settles it.
Junior’s head has a lump on it but it does not feel cracked. I still do not know whether it is safe to Shift him but that also applies to leaving him where he is, so here we go.
I roll him over carefully, sit down alongside with my back to his head and haul him into Sitting with one arm and his head hanging over my shoulder, then I grip the arm and stand up.
Even in 1/6 G this is not so easy as it sounds, he is so damn long and I don’t want to jiggle him, all the same I am not able to tote him more than a few steps without a Readjustment which provokes another painful-sounding groan. I say Is he all right? and Can he answer me? the answer in both cases seems to be No.
Well since I have Moved him now I had better get help quick; I turn and shuffle off following the Arrows as fast as I can.
I suppose Junior only weighs about 12 kg but I am not used to having even 12 kg of Person draped over my shoulder and dragging on the floor behind; presently I become aware of a Soughing of air, loud and rapid, which after a bit I realize is not the Ventilation system on the blink but just Me.
Later I find the distance gone is only about 150 meters but it feels More.
About ½ way there I become aware of Movement ahead: a dark figure crosses my field of vision and moves into a panel of brightness that opens up suddenly about 50 meters away. I try to shout but have not sufficient Breath: all the same, Excelsior! that must be Room VIIC 23—
It is.
According to the label it is also Mass Immunization Bay but Who cares? I have hell’s delight trying to get the door open without using Junior as a battering ram and in the end just kick it until somebody jerks it aside. They give an exclamation and I stagger in.
Inside is a positive Glare of light and I screw my eyes up: I get a confused picture of Things: and people, mostly standing in line alongside a glass-and-metal-covered trolley but there are a few in White coats scattered around. I select a large one and lower self and Junior to the floor at his feet.
Tell the truth I can’t stand up any longer.
Somebody gives a loud exclamation and lifts Junior off me.
Somebody else takes my hand and hauls me to my feet.
Somebody yet else—a woman by the sound—screams at the top of her voice, “Blood! She’s all over blood!”
I look down at myself.
It is true. The left side of my tunic has a great red patch and trickles have run down to the hem.
Have I killed him?
Then everything whirls into a sort of bright hazy cocoon and goes away.
Migod what a collection of aches. I am stiff all over and who raked an incinerator into my Mouth—?
Something touches my head lightly.
“Miss Lee. Wake up, Miss Lee.”
Glad to oblige, so would anybody be who just had my dream.
There is a lot too much Light on my eyelids but through a slit between them I make out a smallish solemn-looking man with black hair brown complexion and a label on his white coverall reading dr. patel.
I try to sit up and discover the Stiffness is not all my own. I have been Zippered into one of those sleeping bags used in Free Fall and it is tied down to a cot or something; this particular bag also had wrist straps and some idiot has fastened them.
Soon as I realize this a Spot on my arm starts to itch like crazy.
Dr Patel picks up a Free-Fall drinking bottle and sticks the spout in my mouth. It tastes so good I forgive him the Liberty.
When I have emptied it he frowns at me and says there are some questions he must ask, do I feel well enough to answer them?
I reply Sure but let me sit up first.
He has a written list in his hand and now frowns at that. “First, can you explain how you came to be carrying Senator Gassett-Low’s nephew and—”
Junior!
I give practically a yell; “Junior! How is he? Was he badly hurt? Have I damaged him?—He isn’t dead!”
