John Maddox Roberts - Space Angel Page 4

  "Hey, are you scaring Teddy?" Kelly looked up. 'the comm officer, Nancy Wu, was staring down over the edge of the catwalk.

  "Teddy?"

  "Of course, who did you think it was? Bring him up here. He's not supposed to be loose in the hold." Kelly walked up to the creature. Before he could stoop in pick him up, Teddy simply climbed Kelly's trouser leg to the front of his coverall, then installed himself on his shoulder, where he stared down into his face and hlinked solemnly. Kelly turned and climbed the ladder. When he was level with the catwalk, Teddy stepped from his shoulder and scampered to Nancy, who scooped him into her arms.

  "What were you doing, chasing him? You've scared him half to death." Kelly regarded the creature, which looked about as panicked as the average oyster.

  "I wasn't chasing him. I just saw him down there and I was curious. What is he anyway?"

  "A Narcissan Teddybear, of course."

  "Of course," said Kelly, nodding solemnly, still unenlightened. He wanted to ask more about the creature, but Nancy turned and stalked away. Kelly continued on his way to the supply room and arrived without encountering any more extraterrestrials—or even any terrestrials, for that matter.

  "What took you so long?" Torwald asked as the boy entered.

  "How come everybody says that?" said Kelly, growing irritated.

  "Because you're expected to step lively in space, and you haven't stepped lively enough. On the old seagoing ships, slow crewmen were helped along with a rope's end applied where it would do the most good. You're not back on the block, you know." Torwald turned to rummage through a pile of invoices, and Kelly looked around at the chaotic jumble of the supply room. His eye was caught by a rack of machines standing against a bulkhead. They were shiny-black

  devices of metal and plastic that looked something like forcebeam rifles, but heavier and larger, each with a complex folding tripod. Kelly reached out to pick one up.

  "Don't touch it!" snapped Torwald.

  "Huh?" Kelly was startled at the real anger in Torwald's voice.

  "Never touch a lightbeam device aboard ship! Remember when the skipper demanded our sidearms, and I gave her my Service laser? That wasn't just for form. You can cut a ship this size clean in two with one of those things—it's expressly forbidden for any crew member to handle a device that can destroy the integrity of the ship's hull. Only the engineer and med officer are exempted, and then only under specific conditions. The skipper even has to be present when Michelle uses her laser scalpel or tooth drill. For that matter, I can't even test these cutters until we make planetfall. That's why we generally make elaborate tests at the point of purchase. Once you've upped ship, it's too late."

  "They're shortbeams, aren't they? Why not set it for a half-meter beam and test it? That'd be safe."

  "What if it's the depth control that's malfunctioning, dummy?"

  "Oh, yeah," Kelly said sheepishly nodding as the light dawned.

  Torwald sat down behind a well-worn console and punched a button marked bridge.

  "Bridge here. This is Ham."

  "Ham, Torwald here. Could you flash me the inventory-control info?"

  "Sure, but I don't envy you this job."

  Torwald and Kelly soon understood precisely what he meant. As the rows of words and figures progressed across the screen, Torwald's expression turned to one of alarm. He punched for the bridge again.

  "Ham, even the computer can't make anything out of these figures, and the last entry is dated March 2187! I heard that my predecessor was a drunk, but I didn't know he was a saboteur."

  "Old Krilencu was kind of peculiar," Ham admitted impassively. "He always seemed to know how much of everything there was, and where it was. He just sort of carried everything around in his head."

  "Including an ever increasing load of rocket cleaner."

  "Nobody said you were going to have an easy job. If you wanted one, you should've shipped on a line vessel." With that, the mate clicked the communicator off.

  Torwald glared at the speaker for a moment, then turned to Kelly. "We might as well get started. First, we sort. Clear out a section against that bulkhead opposite the hatch, and we'll put all the planetside equipment there."

  During her peregrinations about the galaxy, the Space Angel had picked up an incredible assortment of gear, most of which Kelly didn't recognize. There were collapsible tents, heaters, ice axes, machetes, sonic insect-repellers, backpacks, saws, surveying instruments, tools of every sort, and underwater breathing apparatus, cold-weather survival gear, respirators, poisonous-gas filters—things to keep humans alive and working in a hundred environments. There was much more. It all presented an appalling spectacle.

  "We've got to catalog all this?"

  "No, Kelly you're going to sort. I'll catalog. If you're going to learn spacing, this is the place to learn it. Everything that goes into running the ship passes through this department sooner or later. The quartermaster's responsible for all materiel exclusive of cargo. If Nancy needs some wiring for her communications gear, she'll find it here. If the bridge needs new chart thimble blanks, I'll have to order them. Michelle runs the galley, but I'll be buying the rations when we're in port. The quartermaster keeps records of all issues and returns of gear, all expenditures of fuels and perishables—the worksl That, of course, apparently didn't apply to my distinguished predeces

  sor.

  "I didn't think the job was so complicated." Kelly was clearly intimidated.

  "They're all complicated. With luck, we may have this department under control by the time we reach the edge of the solar system and can kick in the Whoopee Drive."

  "When will that be?" asked Kelly.

  "About two months, this trip."

  "That long? Does it take so long to get out of every system?"

  "Depends on the star and where you're starting from, Kelly. Two months is about average."

  Kelly was a little disheartened. He had pictured a spacer's life involving landings on dozens of planets every year. He hadn't realized there would be so much waiting. "It seems like a long time between planets."

  "Don't worry. You won't get bored. We'll keep you occupied."

  Torwald proved as good as his word. Kelly spent the better part of the next two ship-months getting the supply room in order, and more was involved than just sorting and shelving. The youth found that Torwald wanted every piece of equipment in perfect working order. There were cleaning and repairing to do. Worn parts had to be replaced, and where no replacements were available, Torwald would fabricate them in the machine shop adjoining the supply room. When the two had finished sorting and refurbishing, every piece of string was accounted for, every axe and machete polished and sharpened. A fair start had been made on the records, but that task at times seemed hopeless. Items listed on the old inventories had disappeared without record, and others seemed to have appeared, equally without documentation. Kelly

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  had to keep duplicate notes on everything, because Torwald said that he didn't trust any ship's computer that could allow such outrages.

  On the occasions when he could be spared from his supply room duties, Kelly pulled all the scut details for the other departments. He was rapidly putting the "adventure" of spacing in its proper place—it was difficult to find or nonexistent. The crew, treated him with varying degrees of interest. Nancy had not spoken ten words to him since their encounter in the hold. But then, she rarely said anything to anybody. Finn, on the other hand, would regale him for hours with stories of his travels and experiences, most of which Kelly decided were outrageous lies. Lafayette continued to ride him unmercifully whenever Kelly's duties threw them together. On one occasion, he complained of this to Torwald.

  "Look, Kelly, traditionally, the newest, youngest man on ship catches hell from the man who was formerly in that position. That's been going on in ships since before Lord Nelson was a middy."

  "Lord who was a what?"

  "Look it up. Now, get back to work."

&
nbsp; The day arrived when they reached the outer rim of the solar system and could go into interstellar drive. Kelly, like all the rest, was a bit light-headed from fasting and using purgatives. The others had assured him that this regimen would make the experience less unpleasant. When the warning came over the intercom, Kelly retired to his compartment, strapped himself on the toilet, and tied a bag over his mouth. One of the physical effects of the Whoopee Drive was that all bodily systems began to behave erratically, causing bowels and bladder to let go and the stomach to convulse in projectile vomiting. Perspiration drenched the body, eyes watered, and the nose streamed mucus. After that came the hallucinations.

  The subsonic twang went through the ship, and

  Kelly braced himself. It did no good. After the worst of the convulsions were over, he saw to his horror that his room swarmed with tiny, metallic termites, and they were nibbling away at the walls of the cabin. When they had eaten through the side, he knew he would die of explosive decompression. They were almost through when the second twang was felt. It was the cockcrow that made spacers' demons return to wherever they came from.

  When he'd washed up, Kelly slowly made his way to the mess, where he found the other crew members, like him, a bit pale and shaky. Michelle was trying to get everyone to eat soup to replace some of the fluids they had lost.

  "Is it always that bad?" Kelly asked Ham in a hoarse croak.

  "Sometimes it's worse. You made it here under your own power, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Next time, you'll know something of what to expect, so the transition won't be such a shock."

  "You should see what it's like on a thirty-thousand-man troop transport," said Michelle. "Sometimes we had to take them through in free fall with nothing but netting to separate the men."

  While Kelly was deciding that perhaps his experience hadn't been so bad after all, the skipper bustled in, looking no worse than usual. Rumors had it that some spacers actually liked Whoopee Drive transition, and he suspected that she was one of them.

  "Finn," she said," you brought us out right on the money. We'll be in parking orbit around Alpha Tau in two hours. Good navigation. My compliments to your computer." The skipper turned to Popov. "The landing pad built for the Navy during the War was abandoned, but they left a beacon. Do you know if Strelnikov found a suitable landing site near the crystal?"

  "He thought that it might be feasible, but he's no pilot

  He didn't dare ask any of the Navy pilots for fear of arousing suspicion."

  We'll land on the Navy pad, then," said the skipper. We'll send the atmosphere craft to scout the site. I hope we can locate a good berth there; it would be hell transporting the crystal all the way back to the base.

  "All right, then; everybody lay in a substantial meal, we've got work ahead of us. Tor, break out some respirators. Oxygen's a bit thin down there. Michelle, any medical precautions we should take?"

  the Admiralty manual says there's nothing down there a human can catch unless it was left there by the Navy. The primary's a low-radiation type, so the mutation rate is low. No plant life more highly evolved than a giant fern and the highest animal forms are multilegged insect equivalents—none venomous to humans. Gravity's about 10 percent lower than Earth,just don't go for more than a couple of minutes without a respirator and there should be no problems."

  The crew ate with cautious gusto as their stomachs

  were still suffering residual twinges from transition.

  After lunch, Kelly went to the navigator's bubble to

  have a look at Alpha Tau Pi Rho/4. Even from space

  it was a drab planet, somewhat smaller than Earth,

  but much older—her seas had shrunk to lakes, clouds

  lew and thin, vegetation just anemic patches of dingy

  green against the general grayness. Torwald joined him in the bubble.

  "The kind of place where Navy men dread being stationed. Oh, well, we didn't come here for recreation, after all. If this deal pays off as we expect,-we can spend all the time we care "to on a resort world. Kelly, you'll come with me to scout out the crystal formation in the atmosphere craft, so as soon as we land, meet me at the dock. While we're on the ground, the grav field won't be operating abaft the forward hold bulkhead. That makes loading the holds and

  launching the AC easier, but watch your step when you cross the line. It's a long drop through the hold if you don't catch the ladder." The landing horn honked. "There is it," said Torwald. "Go strap yourself in."

  The planet was no more attractive close up than it had been from a distance. Kelly's first good look at an alien world was from the atmosphere craft dock while Torwald and Achmed readied the craft itself.

  "Somehow, I expected something more exotic." His voice sounded tinny over the respirator that covered his nose and mouth.

  "As habitable planets go," said Torwald, "this one's pretty near the bottom of the barrel."

  The surface resembled the dreariest of Earth's desert—rock, sand, and thin, undernourished vegetation. The mountain ranges were worn to nubbins, not an elevation higher than a thousand meters on the whole planet. From the amount of coal the Admiralty survey had found, vegetation had once been abundant on Alpha Tau, but the planet's water vapor and oxygen had slowly leaked into space until only the hardiest life forms could survive. As usual in such cases, the survivors were the most primitive organisms, the ones that had been the least demanding of their environment in the first place. Alpha Tau was a world far gone in senility.

  "Not much to look at, is it, Raffen?" Kelly turned to find Popov standing behind him. The Russian was dressed in a geologist's field gear, a tightly rolled chart under his arm.

  "No argument there. I can see right now that you're going to have to offer big bonuses to tempt miners to come to this place. I worked better spots as a POW."

  "Pile in!" Ham called. Torwald, Kelly, and Popov climbed aboard the AC. The mate spoke briefly with Popov while Torwald and Kelly removed the AC's all-weather top and locked a low, rounded windshield

  into place around the pilot's area, then he turned to Torwald.

  "Torwald, you're our most experienced pilot, so vou take the controls."

  Kelly sat directly behind the pilot, from where he could study the operation of the AC. When all were belted in, Torwald eased the craft from the bay and look it up slowly for a hundred meters, to get a good look at the landing field. All the prefabs had been removed, except for the small shed housing the beacon. Only rectangular foundations remained to indicate the buildings had ever existed. The outpost was a forlorn sight.

  "Where away?" asked Torwald.

  "Taking the beacon for a homing point," said Popov, "set course 85 degrees, magnetic, for ninety-seven kilometers." Torwald punched the bearing into the craft's computer, then accelerated. He could have relinquished manual control but preferred to use the opportunity to get the feel of the AC. The dismal landscape sped by below them as they climbed from the shallow basin where the old base had been and headed into the hills.

  Eventually Popov gave the word to stop and hover, though the terrain below looked just like all the rest they had passed over. He directed them up a small canyon at low speed, occasionally consulting his chart. Soon, Torwald spotted what they were looking for and pointed toward it.

  A jagged slab of glittering crystal protruded from the wall at the end of the canyon like a cantilevered balcony. Below it lay silver .fragments that had somehow broken from the main mass. There were few of these, since there isn't much in nature that can break diamond crystal. Torwald brought the AC down as near to the formation as he could maneuver.

  They clambered from the AC and trudged up the hillside to the crystal, where they found themselves gazing at the biggest fortune any of them had laid eyes on.

  "Utterly unique." Popov seemed somewhat awed.

  "How's it unique?" Kelly asked. "I've heard of diamond slab being mined on other worlds."

  "Because it shouldn't be here—not on a world t
his small. Ordinarily, the pressures required to produce such a prodigy are generated only on worlds much more massive. As a geologist, I would have said that such a thing was impossible, but, as our friends have already told you, such words should not be used by spacers. Still, this phenomenon makes as much sense as bananas growing from a saguaro cactus."

  "What do you think broke off those pieces?" Ham asked.

  "Maybe quakes, maybe a meteorite." Popov shrugged. "It's probably lain exposed like this for a billion years, so it would come as no surprise if it had been hit once or twice. Erosion has been very slow here in recent eras."

  "Well," said Ham, "we can speculate to our hearts' content on the way back to Earth. Right now, I'm calling the skipper and telling her to bring the ship in. There's space to land her here, and the canyon floor's sufficiently solid according to the AC seismometer."

  After the Space Angel arrived, Torwald and Kelly off-loaded the cutters and their mounts, and soon all the equipment had been carted up the hillside by powerbarrow. Bert had supplied templates to guide the cuts, thin plastic patterns that the quarriers would use to shape their slabs precisely. The Angel's hold was nearly cylindrical, and Bert did not want to waste a single cubic centimeter of space. When the gear was set up, the skipper ventured out to examine everything. After she was satisfied about the condition of the shortbeam cutters, she turned to Torwald. "How you going to organize your teams?"

  "First off, we cut away the impure stuff on the outside of the outcropping. Ham, Finn, and I have the muscle for that. We'll manhandle the cutters and the others can dispose of it. When the pure stuff is exposed, ill put the cutters on mounts for the fine work. Serge will have to indicate where the cuts are to be made, and Achmed, Kelly, and Lafayette will cart the slabs back to the ship. Bert will direct storage in the hold, and Nancy can spell us on cutters after they're mounted, if she likes." He did not suggest that Michelle be assigned a ground job. The med officer was never risked if it was avoidable.