[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
one side, he cut the central projector, fired the other six and traversed them
to meet that ship.
Twice it bloomed fire-first the air of it and then, a greater burst, the
ship's drive. Concentrating now, to get the
Deux safely past the molten debris, Ivan lost track of his other foe. When the
pain struck, it broke his barriers totally. He needed full-max accel but
couldn't see the switch, or feel what his hands did. He willed to do it
right, and now he screamed because he couldn't stop. Finally he didn't hear it
any more.
Ivan woke to agony and darkness. For a time he lay back, first merely trying
to stay conscious, then working through the exercises of breathing and nervous
system, that he had learned at Erika Hulzein's. And when he could stop
groaning, then he could think.
The lights out? Even the emergency backups, and the control panel indicators?
But with no power at all, the air wouldn't circulate. And certainly the vessel
wouldn't be vibrating to the high acceleration that held him flat.
With great effort he reached to feel over the control panel, seeking by touch
to get some clues to the ship's condition. With care, identifying each switch
before he moved it, he began a slow, halting checkout procedure. At first he
didn't learn much.
He hadn't managed full-max accel; that lever still sat three notches back. No
need, now, to spend fuel at such a rate; gently
83
he notched back until he heard the "sping" of the red-line clip, then backed
off two more, just for luck.
He touched a switch and, for a moment, couldn't recall its function. Then the
memory came; it was an added frill that was seldom used, though it had seemed
like a good idea in theory. But right now he could use it-he pressed, and a
voice-tape from the ship's chronometer announced the current date-time group.
Nearly three days, I was out!
Two thoughts came, then. One, it was a flaming miracle he hadn't fouled
himself with excrement; that one set him to clawing free of the gee-suit and
then feeling his way to the nearest latrine. His relief was considerable.
While he sat, the protoplasmic computer in his mind considered the other idea,
taking time and acceleration, and rendering them to him in terms of velocity
and distance. When he had the figures, he whistled. In the small booth, the
sound rang.
"At that accel we passed light in hours, not days." In the darkness, speaking
aloud made him feel less lonely. "We must be-" He shook his head; the movement
sent dim green glows across the black of his vision. For seconds he thought
the backup lights had flickered, then realized the phenomenon was internal.
Page 63
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
He went, slowly and sometimes bumping into things, back to his control seat.
Now he ignored switches that gave only visual response. Memory clearing faster
now, he found the detector indicators; as expected, the sub-
light instruments gave no bleeps. He tried the gravities, and the gentle
sounds told him there were stars out there, all right-and none dangerously
close. So the
Deux was well above C. How far above? Since there was no way to get audible
confirmation of his own guess, he'd have to stand on it, as is.
Tregare's plan-to go a week maybe, before cutting Hoyfarul Drive and starting
turnaround-should he stay with it, now? Ivan scratched his head. Maybe, for
this, he needed to talk with someone.
He fumbled at the controls for the acceleration cocoons; when he found them,
he paused.
This one?
Something was wrong-or was it? He thought again, and was certain. He knew that
under Tsa attack he'd failed to get accel up to full-max. And what his hand
had done, instead-that switch had put the whole snip's force into freeze!
He was halfway downship-and still without lights-before he wondered what he
was going to dp, anyway. He knew
84
resuscitation procedures, of course; all officers did. But in the dark? He
stopped, holding the railing for balance, and thought, "Three days. A little
less, really. Just turning the thing off, waiting for the signal and opening
the cocoon, should do it."
If I'm lucky.
Inside the compartment, feeling his way among the cocoon positions, he had to
face the next question.
Who?
Since he knew the assigned location of only one person, he had two choices.
Someone at random-or Dacia.
How bad is the risk? I wish I knew.
He chose Dacia. Because, he told himself, she was the freeze expert; if she
came through all right, everyone's chances were better. But his real reason,
he knew, was that he needed her.
He checked thoroughly, counting his way row by row, leaving his keys on the
selected cocoon and then counting rows to the back wall and to the ones on
either side. Until he was sure he was right. He pulled down the small
seating-shelf that made the control assemblies easier to work with, and sat,
and groped among the switches. He needed only to turn the thing off and let it
cycle down; he moved, and the switch made the proper click. Now there'd be an
hour or so before the cocoon announced, with a blinking light and audible
tone, its readiness to be opened.
Might as well spend the time up in Control. He might learn something. But he
didn't expect to enjoy that learning.
Back upship he sat at his console, fingering switches and occasionally trying
one. Nothing new, and Ivan had used up all his ideas. Except for one, and the
result of that one could kill all hope.
But finally he had to test it; he couldn't hide forever. He pulled up the
right-hand arm of his seat. More than not, he hoped to find the small
compartment empty. Occasionally Tregare smoked a cigar, but so seldom that
he didn't carry a lighter. He kept one here, though, and one in his work desk.
Page 64
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Ivan reached, and there it was.
Holding it in front of him, his arm bent slightly, Ivan pushed the operating
stud. No light; maybe the thing was out of energy.
Quit kidding yourself!
His other forefinger reached and felt the heat.
Well, now you know!
Cursing at the slight bum, mumbling past the finger he sucked to soothe the
scorch, helped ease the pain of knowing.
85
The chronometer's voice-tape was blithe and perky. Though Ivan waited, each
time, as long before consulting it as he could manage, he got decidedly tired
of its perkiness. When finally it told him his hour's wait was nearly over, he
stood and made his way again downship. He felt his way past the cocoons and
found his keys. He sat, and while he waited, made sure of the next control he
needed. When the tone sounded-and of course the damned light would be
blinking, too-Ivan's breath was not steady.
Here it goes.
He moved the switch that would let the cocoon open. It made the right
sound-which was to say, the tone stopped. He put his hands to the lid, not to
hold it but to feel it move, and at first he thought it wasn't working, but
then it began to lift. Not quickly-never fast, these devices-but not
hesitating, once begun.
When it was up all the way, Ivan stood and reached into the open tank, fingers
outspread to find Dacia but cautious of the connections that needed care to
terminate.
Brushing past her hair, he touched her face. Cool but not chill; her throat
had a good pulse and he heard breathing. A little slow, in the normal range
for sleep. He stroked her cheek and squeezed one hand, waiting. Her head
moved; her lips touched his hand. "Dacia?"
"Mmrn. Yuh-Ivan?" Her head raised, then fell back.
"Dacia. Lie still; don't move. Stay as you are, until you're all the way
awake. Because-I'm sorry, but I can't help you; you'll have to make all the
disconnects yourself. So wait; wait, Dacia-"
He talked on, pausing only now and then, until he knew she heard and
understood. Finally she said, "All right, Ivan. But why?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl chiara76.opx.pl
one side, he cut the central projector, fired the other six and traversed them
to meet that ship.
Twice it bloomed fire-first the air of it and then, a greater burst, the
ship's drive. Concentrating now, to get the
Deux safely past the molten debris, Ivan lost track of his other foe. When the
pain struck, it broke his barriers totally. He needed full-max accel but
couldn't see the switch, or feel what his hands did. He willed to do it
right, and now he screamed because he couldn't stop. Finally he didn't hear it
any more.
Ivan woke to agony and darkness. For a time he lay back, first merely trying
to stay conscious, then working through the exercises of breathing and nervous
system, that he had learned at Erika Hulzein's. And when he could stop
groaning, then he could think.
The lights out? Even the emergency backups, and the control panel indicators?
But with no power at all, the air wouldn't circulate. And certainly the vessel
wouldn't be vibrating to the high acceleration that held him flat.
With great effort he reached to feel over the control panel, seeking by touch
to get some clues to the ship's condition. With care, identifying each switch
before he moved it, he began a slow, halting checkout procedure. At first he
didn't learn much.
He hadn't managed full-max accel; that lever still sat three notches back. No
need, now, to spend fuel at such a rate; gently
83
he notched back until he heard the "sping" of the red-line clip, then backed
off two more, just for luck.
He touched a switch and, for a moment, couldn't recall its function. Then the
memory came; it was an added frill that was seldom used, though it had seemed
like a good idea in theory. But right now he could use it-he pressed, and a
voice-tape from the ship's chronometer announced the current date-time group.
Nearly three days, I was out!
Two thoughts came, then. One, it was a flaming miracle he hadn't fouled
himself with excrement; that one set him to clawing free of the gee-suit and
then feeling his way to the nearest latrine. His relief was considerable.
While he sat, the protoplasmic computer in his mind considered the other idea,
taking time and acceleration, and rendering them to him in terms of velocity
and distance. When he had the figures, he whistled. In the small booth, the
sound rang.
"At that accel we passed light in hours, not days." In the darkness, speaking
aloud made him feel less lonely. "We must be-" He shook his head; the movement
sent dim green glows across the black of his vision. For seconds he thought
the backup lights had flickered, then realized the phenomenon was internal.
Page 63
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
He went, slowly and sometimes bumping into things, back to his control seat.
Now he ignored switches that gave only visual response. Memory clearing faster
now, he found the detector indicators; as expected, the sub-
light instruments gave no bleeps. He tried the gravities, and the gentle
sounds told him there were stars out there, all right-and none dangerously
close. So the
Deux was well above C. How far above? Since there was no way to get audible
confirmation of his own guess, he'd have to stand on it, as is.
Tregare's plan-to go a week maybe, before cutting Hoyfarul Drive and starting
turnaround-should he stay with it, now? Ivan scratched his head. Maybe, for
this, he needed to talk with someone.
He fumbled at the controls for the acceleration cocoons; when he found them,
he paused.
This one?
Something was wrong-or was it? He thought again, and was certain. He knew that
under Tsa attack he'd failed to get accel up to full-max. And what his hand
had done, instead-that switch had put the whole snip's force into freeze!
He was halfway downship-and still without lights-before he wondered what he
was going to dp, anyway. He knew
84
resuscitation procedures, of course; all officers did. But in the dark? He
stopped, holding the railing for balance, and thought, "Three days. A little
less, really. Just turning the thing off, waiting for the signal and opening
the cocoon, should do it."
If I'm lucky.
Inside the compartment, feeling his way among the cocoon positions, he had to
face the next question.
Who?
Since he knew the assigned location of only one person, he had two choices.
Someone at random-or Dacia.
How bad is the risk? I wish I knew.
He chose Dacia. Because, he told himself, she was the freeze expert; if she
came through all right, everyone's chances were better. But his real reason,
he knew, was that he needed her.
He checked thoroughly, counting his way row by row, leaving his keys on the
selected cocoon and then counting rows to the back wall and to the ones on
either side. Until he was sure he was right. He pulled down the small
seating-shelf that made the control assemblies easier to work with, and sat,
and groped among the switches. He needed only to turn the thing off and let it
cycle down; he moved, and the switch made the proper click. Now there'd be an
hour or so before the cocoon announced, with a blinking light and audible
tone, its readiness to be opened.
Might as well spend the time up in Control. He might learn something. But he
didn't expect to enjoy that learning.
Back upship he sat at his console, fingering switches and occasionally trying
one. Nothing new, and Ivan had used up all his ideas. Except for one, and the
result of that one could kill all hope.
But finally he had to test it; he couldn't hide forever. He pulled up the
right-hand arm of his seat. More than not, he hoped to find the small
compartment empty. Occasionally Tregare smoked a cigar, but so seldom that
he didn't carry a lighter. He kept one here, though, and one in his work desk.
Page 64
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Ivan reached, and there it was.
Holding it in front of him, his arm bent slightly, Ivan pushed the operating
stud. No light; maybe the thing was out of energy.
Quit kidding yourself!
His other forefinger reached and felt the heat.
Well, now you know!
Cursing at the slight bum, mumbling past the finger he sucked to soothe the
scorch, helped ease the pain of knowing.
85
The chronometer's voice-tape was blithe and perky. Though Ivan waited, each
time, as long before consulting it as he could manage, he got decidedly tired
of its perkiness. When finally it told him his hour's wait was nearly over, he
stood and made his way again downship. He felt his way past the cocoons and
found his keys. He sat, and while he waited, made sure of the next control he
needed. When the tone sounded-and of course the damned light would be
blinking, too-Ivan's breath was not steady.
Here it goes.
He moved the switch that would let the cocoon open. It made the right
sound-which was to say, the tone stopped. He put his hands to the lid, not to
hold it but to feel it move, and at first he thought it wasn't working, but
then it began to lift. Not quickly-never fast, these devices-but not
hesitating, once begun.
When it was up all the way, Ivan stood and reached into the open tank, fingers
outspread to find Dacia but cautious of the connections that needed care to
terminate.
Brushing past her hair, he touched her face. Cool but not chill; her throat
had a good pulse and he heard breathing. A little slow, in the normal range
for sleep. He stroked her cheek and squeezed one hand, waiting. Her head
moved; her lips touched his hand. "Dacia?"
"Mmrn. Yuh-Ivan?" Her head raised, then fell back.
"Dacia. Lie still; don't move. Stay as you are, until you're all the way
awake. Because-I'm sorry, but I can't help you; you'll have to make all the
disconnects yourself. So wait; wait, Dacia-"
He talked on, pausing only now and then, until he knew she heard and
understood. Finally she said, "All right, Ivan. But why?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]