Into the Sea of Stars Page 12

  It was the half-dozen suitless bodies floating between the two ships that finally sobered lan's companions. Suddenly a number of vessels emerged from the Serbo-Croatian ship, and then from the Albanian. Both squadrons started in their direction and Ian's arguments finally took effect.

  "I think we better get out of here," Stasz muttered as he punched up the sublight drive and started to pull away from the colonies.

  However, after several minutes it soon became clear that their pursuers were gaining on them.

  "You see, I told you so," Ian said dejectedly. "You guys wanted to check them out when I told you not to, and now they're going to force us to attend whatever it is they do to each other over there."

  "Maybe they're not hostile," Ellen said hopefully.

  "Not hostile? Did you see those bodies that had been deep-spaced? That didn't look too civilized to me."

  "They're closing in at point twenty-three kilometers per minute," Stasz interrupted. "I'm pushing her to the max now, but it will take me another half hour to plot out our jump and go through purging and adjustment."

  "Can't you speed it up?"

  "You want to up our chance of disintegration from 1.4 to 20.2 percent?"

  "Might not make a difference," Ian replied.

  "Say, take a look at that!" Shelley cried, pointing at the aft screen.

  A flash had emerged from the lead Albanian pursuit vessel.

  "Looks like a primitive rocket," Stasz yelled. "If it's aimed at us, we're dead meat."

  The rocket accelerated and within seconds its course was obvious, as it closed on the lead ship in the Serbo-Croatian pursuit squadron. In a noiseless flash of light the Serbo-Croatian craft disintegrated. The other vessels suddenly turned in their pursuit paths, accelerating away at right angles from their original trajectories. Rotating on their axes, they started to fire back.

  "Good old rivalry saves our butts," Richard murmured. "Hate each other too much to let the other one get the prize."

  More vessels soon emerged from the two colony ships and a major battle was underway. In the confusion the Discovery was soon forgotten, as each side prevented the other from closing in.

  "Say, Stasz," Richard asked imploringly, "would you punch us out of here asap?"

  Stasz chuckled and recited again the odds of disintegration with the jump. But the routine somehow did not have the same effect anymore.

  "Albania," Ian repeated, shaking his head, bumming a flask from Richard. He headed aft to hide out when the shift hit.

  Ian sat alone in the command bay as the others slept, and for a brief moment he was able to enjoy the total solitude that being the only one awake could bring. After nearly five months of voyaging together, each had learned the patterns of behavior that would generate the least amount of friction. Ian found that reversing his circadian cycle gave him the chance to quietly hide in his work when most of the others were asleep. As the Discovery soared across the vastness of empty space, Ian would spend hours in Stasz's couch contemplating the Doppler-distorted images or prowling through the vast accumu­lation of data stored in the ship's memory. And Ian finally realized that he was actually happy. In spite of the fears that still haunted him, he was enjoying himself, perhaps for the first time in his life.

  First of all the vast and varied responsibilities of Earth . were gone. All concern about rent, budgets, department meetings, and reviews by the Chancellor had vanished. Ian actually felt healthier, and he had to confess that El­len's food, even when spiced with her occasional vitriolic tirades, was far better than his bachelor monstrosities. There was something far deeper, as well. For the first time in his life he felt as if he were doing something im­portant, not just dreaming about the lives of others long dead. The sense of accomplishment was almost worth the bouts of terror that still assailed him. He found that he was actually learning to manage the nagging self-doubts when he had to make a decision that could be crucial to his survival, let alone the survival of others.

  One self-generated disturbance, however, did give him pause for concern. He was experiencing an increasing number of fantasies about Shelley. She had somehow changed. When they had departed, she was still the kid who was playing at being the grownup housekeeper and guardian for a beloved uncle or older neighbor. Ever since the burning he had received from the Governor's daugh­ter, Ian had sworn off females in general and young ones in particular. As a college professor he mainly associated with kids twenty years his junior, and he had learned long ago that they were a quick and easy way to a tribunal hearing on a morals charge.

  But five months of close proximity was getting a little too much to deal with. He knew that Stasz had absolutely no interest in Ellen's designs but was turning his attention toward Shelley, as well. But the few grab passes offered by the pilot had all resulted in cracked knuckles. So that possibility was out.

  At times he thought Shelley was making a direct pass at him, and then again there were times when she seemed just a slightly gawky grad assistant who was trying to be helpful. But more and more of late, he found himself contemplating the tight slacks that Shelley had taken to wearing, and the press of her body against his when they were hovered over the computer display...

  "Mind if I join you?"

  Ian awoke from his reverie to find Ellen standing in the doorway. "Ahh, sure. Thought you'd be asleep."

  "Felt like taking a midnight stroll." She chuckled softly. Coming forward, she slipped into the Co seat next to Ian.

  "You look rather pensive."

  "Oh, just watching the show pass by."

  "It's rather frightening at times," Ellen said softly.

  "How so?"

  "Come on, Ian. In my book, you were the original coward. I thought you would still be quaking at the pros­pects of this voyage."

  He didn't take offense at her statement. And rather than ducking it, he had a strange compulsion to talk it out. "First of all, I did feel terror, cold stark terror, when I finally started to realize what this voyage was. I can almost understand how medieval man was stunned and terrified by Copernicus. Before him the world was small, safe, the center of God's will. After Copernicus eternity stretched out before us and such a thing was beyond our ability to grasp, thus the blind terror of it all.

  "When I realized just how far we would travel, just how far away from Earth we were going, how far we were traveling from that damn little campus, I was struck with fear. The thought of this frail, delicate body hurtling at jump speed for trillions of miles was beyond my ability to deal with on a rational basis. I tried to soothe myself with the thought of the romance of it, but that's a bunch of shit. There isn't any romance, there never is any ro­mance when you're out doing it. Maybe years later we'll talk about how romantic it all was. The romance of ad­venture exists only in the memory. Any good historian could tell you that."

  "Sounding philosophical tonight."

  "Comes with soaring in space for too long. It gives you the chance, the time to separate yourself from the mun­dane. I think I can understand the attraction the explorers of long ago felt for the sea. Out there the mundane cares of the rest of the world were lost in a never-ending change which was the sea, the wind at your back..."

  "But it's so cold," Ellen whispered. "I look out at this immensity and I feel so small, so alone."

  "Precisely. And that is where you lose yourself. I've imagined at times that this voyage could soar on forever, across the endless sea."

  "And I see it merely as a mission and then a trip home. Don't you want to go home, Ian?"

  "What for? To go back to faculty meetings and the monthly confrontations with Dr. Ellen Redding?"

  "All right, Ian, you made your point. You know, I've tried at times to analyze why we can't stand each other. For that matter, why I can't stand most people,"

  He was tempted to let fly with a sarcasm, but let it pass. Ellen was making an effort. Rare, to be sure, but it was an effort.

  He took a deep breath and made the plunge. "When I hear the nam
e Ellen Redding I picture a florid, freckled, five-foot-three, slightly overweight, middle-aging adoles­cent, who still behaves at times like she is the ingenue of the high school set."

  He quickly held up his hand to ward off the explosion, but it didn't come. She just sat silently, and he wasn't sure if the blush on her face was a signal for a fireball or for tears.

  "And I think she resents it all," Ian continued. "She wishes to be something else. The classic beauty, the truly talented artist, the person who lives in the same circle as the Chancellor or with the literati of New Bostem, and instead is stuck in a backwater town. So you lash out, Ellen. You lash out at this overweight, balding, none-too-competent history professor. A male of the species who can represent all the males who never gave you an even break just because of your sex and lack of sexuality. And I guess I'm saying this 'cause I'm a long way from home. I'm still a coward underneath it all, and I want to bury the hatchet."

  "Ian, you never did learn tact. You never did learn how to tell the truth without cutting flesh."

  She turned away for a moment. "I think I'd almost miss cutting you up."

  "There's always Richard."

  "That slob?"

  "Sure he's a slob—a frustrated slob who never had the right connections in a system that required it. A slob who was a little too sensitive when it came to practicing medicine, and hid it with a couple of drinks too many. And anyhow, Ellen, you make him happy."

  "I make him happy! I'm not sure I heard that cor­rectly."

  "Sure, Ellen, think of it. Where would you and Richard be if you didn't have each other to insult? I half believe we enjoy our antagonisms as much as we do our loves. It gives us the energy to face what otherwise would be a very boring existence. Think of it this way, Ellen, you make Richard happy in a deep personal way every time you insult him."

  She turned and looked at Ian. She wasn't sure if his speech wasn't some sort of elaborate joke planned by Richard and Ian, or if she was experiencing a moment of truth between the two of them.

  Then the alarm kicked on and within seconds Stasz wandered sleepy-eyed, into the cabin to check the console printouts for navigation prompts.

  As Ellen walked out of the cabin, Ian would have sworn that she smiled at him.

  Chapter 9

  Colonial Unit 122

  First Completion Date: 2063

  Primary Function: International Feminist Foundation. Organization founded by radical feminists in 1994 to "create a lifestyle totally removed from a male-dominated infrastructure."

  Evacuation Date: According to Copernicus Base Record, July 19, 2083. Believed to be one of the first units to depart near-Earth space.

  Overall Design: Single Torus 900 meters in diameter with central shaft 500 meters in length.

  Propulsion: Standard Modification Design, strap-on matter/antimatter packs mounted to nonrotational central shaft.

  Course: Delta Sag.

  Political/Social Orientation: Anglo-American, Radical Feminist. Taught doctrine of removal of the male species. Thousands of sperm samples were taken and all Y chromosome sperm destroyed. The result was billions of frozen X sperm, creating a potential "pool" capable of providing enough fertilization capabilities to last for several hundred generations.

  "Hard Dock!" Stasz announced, turning to look back at the rest of the crew.

  "Any reading yet on which unit this is?" Richard asked.

  "There're no external markings," Shelley replied. "The beacon is off, and all I have to go on is the design. There are thirteen single-torus models listed in our records."

  "Shall we go?" Ian said softly, as he eased out of his seat and drifted aft to the docking port. "Who's game for this one?"

  "What the hell?" Richard responded as he slipped out and followed Ellen.

  As they suited up with businesslike calm. Ian could remember the fear and anticipation of his first boarding, but that seemed like ages ago, as if he possessed the memories of someone else.

  "We're throwing the hatch," Ian said as the manual airlock to the colonial unit slowly opened. Instinctively he braced himself as the hatchcover parted. A quick flash of memory caused his pulse to jump. But nothing was there except for the usual corridor leading to the second airlock.

  They closed the doorway behind them, and in the soft glow of their headlamps Ian pulled the manual release for the inner airlock door.

  "Holy shit!" Richard murmured. The words flowed out of him in reverent awe, as if he had suddenly looked into a celestial radiance.

  The words were on lan's lips, as well. A single woman stood before them, as if Eve had appeared incarnate from the Garden, her body clothed as was Eve's before the fall from grace.

  "Damn me," Richard said, "what the hell do we have these things on for? She looks safe enough without 'em." And before Ian could stop him, Richard unsnapped his helmet and pulled it off. He moved closer to the woman and smiled, hoping the slight odor of gin would not prove too offensive.

  Her deep-blue eyes had a cold clearness that seemed to mask a longing desire, her curly blond hair tumbled down past her shoulders to just barely cover the full swell of her breasts. She stood before him naked and inviting.

  "Ahh, my child, do you understand what I'm saying?"

  She nodded and smiled.

  "My name is Dr. Croce. Ahh, well now, you see, being of the medical profession my training requires that I must inquire into your obvious state of excellent health. Do you understand me?"

  She nodded again.

  "Good, my ahh... dear." He moved forward and touched her lightly on the shoulder. "Would you mind if I perhaps examined you a little more closely?..."

  "Richard, you pig!" Ellen pushed forward to stand be­tween the girl and the medico.

  "Ahh, yes, I've heard of that word, 'pig'." The voice was cold and chilling. Ian turned and found himself look­ing into a set of cold dark eyes. He stepped back as half a dozen women floated out from a side corridor. They were dressed like their comrade, but the business ends of six antique pistols were enough to convince him that he shouldn't ask questions about their choices in fashion.

  "You see, sisters," the cold-voiced woman said, "it's as we've learned. His first thought was that of exploita­tion."

  "I can explain..." To those unfamiliar with him, Rich­ard's voice sounded solemn and professional, but Ian could detect the fear in it.

  "Ah, now the pig will explain. That's always the case."

  "You were right, Diana," the blond woman replied, "the trap was almost too simple."

  "Say, Ian, what the hell is going on over there?"

  "Secure the airlock against entry, Stasz!" Ian shouted, but before he could say another word the cold-eyed woman held a small box against his neck. A numbing shock knocked him over. He was still conscious, but incapable of moving.

  "Thank you, sister, I've been waiting for this liberation ever since I was assigned to these men. Please let me knock the other one down."

  Ian recognized the last speaker as Ellen! Well, of all the gratitude, he thought sadly as two women hauled him away. At least, he thought philosophically, I'm still con­scious and capable of enjoying the view.

  "How long do you think it's been?" Ian asked.

  "Don't know—a day, maybe a day and a half," Richard replied wearily. "Their time measurement is radically dif­ferent from ours, so it's hard to tell."

  "I wish they'd give my clothes back." Ian felt ridicu­lous sitting naked in a bare cubicle alongside the equally overweight and equally naked doctor.

  Richard started to chuckle.

  "Damn it, I don't see anything funny! What the hell are you laughing at?"

  "I never thought the two of us would be paraded before ten thousand naked women and extolled as examples of manhood. Think of it, Ian, ten thousand women seeing a man for the first time, and it had to be us. Imagine what fantasies they'll have about us afterward."

  "Fantasies my bare ass," Ian grumbled as a key clicked in the door. It was time for another examination
session.

  "Sisters, our two specimens here are evidence of just how degenerate the male of the species truly is. Thank our grandsisters for liberating us from that." Diana pointed with contempt at Ian and Richard. Murmurs of agreement arose from the several hundred women gathered in the lecture hall to attend what Diana said would be an "in­teractive examination of the subspecies male."

  As Diana gazed at him in contempt, Richard tried a weak smile. Ian scanned the audience and found to his amazement that after several days of seeing naked female flesh in every form and shape, the initial excitement was wearing thin. Oh, to be sure, an occasional woman caught his eye, but given his current situation, tied and spread­eagled on an examination table, he felt it best not to let his gaze linger on any particular attraction.

  But he did notice Ellen and Shelley sitting in the front row and made eye contact with both of them. Taking a closer look at Ellen, he almost started to laugh as she positioned her body in a desperate attempt to cover all areas of interest. But Shelley was another story. She sat back in what could only be considered an attempt at dis­play and regarded him with a cool look of playful invitation. In desperation he quickly looked away. Good lord, that woman was torturing him!

  "Sisters," Diana said, interrupting his thoughts, "we've had our opportunity to examine these creatures both physically and mentally. Now, in yet another demonstra­tion of our liberated society, I think it is only correct that we allow them to show their own masculine weaknesses by giving them the opportunity to question us in turn.

  "Go ahead, ask us anything," Diana said with scorn, "anything at all,"

  Ian and Richard were silent.

  "Are you afraid, too?"

  "Understand I am a doctor," Richard said, attempting to sound authoritative, "so this is only a question out of my professional curiosity."