Alder's World Part One: Mass 17 (8 page)

Tallen scowled sullenly as
the guards pushed him towards the conference room door. Pilton
almost felt sad for him as he drifted out of the room. LOP Command,
had been concerned enough that the Duster would meet hostile aliens
or have disruptions among the crew that
they
’
d sent the combat
veteran Tallen along in the midst of crew that was otherwise picked
for their cooperative nature and technical skills. Tallen had never
really fit in, never really belonged. Now that he had acted
violently against the captain, it was unlikely that he would ever
be accepted by the crew again.

A drop of blood from his
wounded temple slipped into the corner of his eye. He pushed it
back out with a pudgy finger. Maybe he
didn
’
t feel too bad for
Tallen.

A radio crackled to life
behind him. He whirled to yell at who ever had turned it on, but
was stopped by the voice of Ensign Crough who
he
’
d sent to the environment
dome.
“
Crough to
command.
”

Pilton pushed himself off the chair
toward the console but did not get there before Reilly
responded.

“This is command. Go
ahead.
”

“I gained access to the
environment dome through number four airlock.
I
’
ve got
Alder.
”

Pilton pressed his hand
down on the controller.
“
He
’
s there?”
He asked.

“He
’
s with me now sir.
He can hear you.
”

Pilton gasped with
relief.
“
Can...are you...what
about the nanobots?
”

Alder
’
s voice was
scratchy over the primitive radio.
“
I
’
m sorry sir?
”

“We turned off all the
systems so that we would stay cool; so that the nanobots
wouldn
’
t eat the hull. We
don
’
t know how to stop
them.
”

“Oh,
”
Alder
’
s
voice came over the wire.
“
Yeah, if that was going to happen, it would have happened
right away.
”

Pilton
’
s eyes slid
round to the listening bridge crew.
“
Are you sure? It seemed like a
reasonable precaution.
”

“Sure
I
’
m sure.”
Alder
’
s voice was
dismissive.
“
The nanobots
function at just a few degrees above absolute zero. At this
temperature, they
’
d either
eat us immediately or overheat. Most likely, they were only
programmed to live for a set number of generations. The fire
probably got the last of them.
”

Pilton shifted
uncomfortably aware of the eyes burrowing into his skin.
“
Well, good to know. Umm.
We
’
ll get our systems
rebooted.” He nodded to the crew who began tapping their consoles,
bringing the ship to life.

“How
’
s the framing
drive?”
Alder asked.

“We
don
’
t know. Why? Is there an
issue?
”

“We just need to make a
jump before it
’
s too
late.
”

“Too late for
what?
”

“If we
don
’
t jump soon,
we
’
re going to be the newest
moon in the galaxy.
”

Pilton humphed and
frowned, waiting for more explanation. He was trapped. He could
sense that he was quickly losing face with the bridge crew but the
curiosity was too much to bear.
“
I
’
m not sure I
understand what you mean when you say,
‘
moon.
’”

A flight
of sparrows rose up beating their wings against the steel sky.
There was an odd flatness to the shape of their flight, as if they
were rising up on an invisible sheet. It was curiously hypnotic.
Something about the angle of attack and the symmetry of the
movement caught the eye. Before they were more than twenty meters
in the air, another flock, similar to the first but at a stronger
angle rose up in a clattering of wings.

“y=1.5x
”
Some dim
corner of Alder
’
s mind
remembered. He couldn
’
t
really focus on the thought. Part of the point of the virtual tank,
and one reason it could be addictive, was that is allowed for
direct stimulation of the sense processing centers in the brain,
bypassing and overriding the urge to think.

Another flight took off, a
more complex pattern, y=4x^2 +2 or something, he
couldn
’
t remember; a parabola
anyway. Some people used the tanks for complex fantasies, often
sexual Elana assured him. He preferred the math tutor
he
’
d built for himself in
college. Monomials, binomials, quadratics, derivatives, things that
he assured people were flying bird versions of synthetic division;
it unhooked his mind and gave him a peaceful feeling.

There was a sky and some trees. He
never really noticed them. It was the birds, sparrows, with
swallows weaving in and out in some more complex functions that
held his mind and gave him a break from his troubles.

The edge of his mind
tickled about some problem that was not a Mandelbrot of birds; the
ship, trouble with the ship. As if in response to the rising
distracting thought, the birds began chirping a third tones
translation of the pattern they were flying. He
hadn
’
t programmed it. Music
wasn
’
t his thing but the
program had amused when he
’
d
found it so he
’
d added it
shortly before they
’
d left
home. He was always glad he had. It
wasn
’
t a song really but it
was rhythmic and reflected the changing numeric patterns underlying
the program.

The birds had just started the
non-linear equations when a small puff of wind hit his face. Tiny,
but a warning. Reality was about to come back. The puff came again
and rose, rolling over him pushing the sky and birds
away.

Blackness.

Alder blinked groggily as
low lights lit up the
“
virtual tank,
”
really
just a small pad in a darkened tube. Sliding back the cover he,
found himself in a quietly lit room of similar tubes. As many as
eighteen of the Duster
’
s crew
could vacation from reality at the same time in this room and there
were two more like it in the ship. They were available twenty-four
hours a day and you could live out pretty much any fantasy you
could program in, with the condition that Elana, the ships
psychologist, regularly reviewed the choices to watch for
potentially dangerous patterns.

It was Elana who had suggested that
Alder spend the last hours before the meeting in the
tank.

“It
’
s insane.” He
’
d said as they lay in their bed the
night before.
“
Everyone will think I
’
ve gone mad.
”

Elana had nodded dreamily.
She was curled up against his side naked. Their bodies wore a fine
film of sweat. Alder had passed on the grieving sex but the wave of
stress sex that was sweeping the ship had not missed their cabin.
Her broken arm lay in its cast over his head. Her good arm rested
on his hip. She spoke from the edge of sleep.
“
What
’
s happened to us is beyond anything
we imagined possible but it
’
s not crazy. Pilton wants you to do
the talking exactly because you speak clear headed
science.
”

“It
’
s not clear headed science.
It
’
s insanity.
I
’
ll get us all
killed.
”

“Maybe.” Elana agreed, her
knee moving slowly across the front of his thighs.
“
But, if you do, it will
be because you found the best odds for us and they just
didn
’
t play
out.
”

Alder sighed and rolled
onto his side so that Elana was spooning him.

“Listen
Sam,
”
Elana
murmured into his ear.
“
This isn
’
t a space ship any more. This
isn
’
t about
exploration any more. It
’
s about rescue and survival.
You
’
ve always
been the one who could see clearly. You knew the Aft Patterson
field was going to fail. You told Pilton where the safe position to
watch stellar collision was and when to be there. This crew is
going to have to do some impossible things and
it
’
s you, not
Pilton that needs to tell them. They
’
ll believe you.
”

“What about Garson?
She
’
s the chief
executive officer. If Pilton doesn
’
t want to do it, Garson
should.
”

Elna laughed
slightly.
“
Come
on Sam. You know Treva isn
’
t right for the job. She lives in
the numbers, not in real life. I don
’
t even think she
’
s been on the bridge since the
explosion.”
She snickered again.
“
You should see some of
the fantasies she plays in the tanks.
”

“Let
’
s out her aggressions there?” Alder
asked.

“Oh
yeah.
”

Alder
didn
’
t argue. If
there was a weak link in the command of the Duster it was Triva
Garson the Executive Officer. Bookish and brilliant with data,
Garson had a well known penchant for being nowhere to be found when
difficult decisions needed to be made. They lapsed into silence.
Elana
’
s hand had
wandered dreamily down into the nether land under the sheets as if
checking to see if Alder might be up for another round of stress
release or maybe it was just visiting an old friend.
“
Look El.
I
’
m just a
science officer
…”

“You signed on to be just
a science officer. You want to be just a science officer. But
that
’
s not what
you are now. You are this crew
’
s best hope; just like you were the
best hope for Cab and Carol; just like you were the best hope when
we were stuck in the Environment Dome. I don
’
t know if we can do this, but I
know you are the best hope we
’
ve got.
”

Alder sighed again and
Elana
’
s hand gave
up its exploring, sliding up instead to rest on his
shoulder.

“Just do what you do
tomorrow. You
’
ll
be fine. Go spend an hour in the tank. Let the birds straighten out
that beautiful mind of yours then go tell them what they have to
do. They
’
ll do
it.
”

‘Elana was
right,
’
Alder
thought as he left the virtual tank bay headed for the bridge
conference room. His head always felt clearest after a trip to the
tanks. The hallways were as empty as the tank bay had been.
Everyone was already in front of a vid screen somewhere waiting for
the broadcast he was about to lead.

It had been a long time
coming. For seven days the crew had welded plates, gathered the
dead, repaired hatches, tended chickens, screwed like mad, and done
anything to keep their minds off the real question,
‘
was the framing drive ever going to
come back on?
’

When it became clear that
the very best printing technology in the world
couldn
’
t print all the pieces
the framing drive needed, it was never coming back on, another week
passed while every asked,
‘
Do
we have enough ion engines left to fly out of
here?
”