Sense of Wonder: A Century of Science Fiction (323 page)

“Because, sir, the solar system moves in the direction of Mu Hercules and we thereby avoid parallax error. Negligible though it may be, sir.”

“The final comment smacks of frivolity, Mr. McGrath, which serves only to distract the attention of those who are trying to take careful note of my instructions. One demerit.”

“Sorry, sir. I merely intended to express my awareness that for many practical purposes such a degree of accuracy is unnecessary.”

“That idea, cadet, is sufficiently elemental that it need not be labored. I appreciate brevity and precision.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thirdly, from these materials, assemble a communication system, operating on one hundred watts, which will permit two-way conversation between Tycho Base and Phobos, at whatever frequency you deem suitable.”

Each of the cadets started in identical fashion, by sorting the material into various piles, then calibrating and checking the test instruments. Achievement thereafter was disparate. Culpepper and von Gluck, diagnosing the test as being partly one of mechanical ingenuity and partly ordeal by frustration, failed to become excited when several indispensable components proved either to be missing or inoperative, and so they carried each project as far as immediately feasible. McGrath and Weske, beginning with the computer, were reduced to rage and random action. Lynch and Sutton worked doggedly at the computer; Verona, at the communication system.

Culpepper alone managed to complete one of the instruments, by the process of sawing, polishing, and cementing together sections of two broken crystals into a crude, inefficient, but operative laser.

The day after this test McGrath and Weske disappeared from the dormitory—whether on their own volition or after notification from Henry Belt, no one knew.

The test was followed by week-end leave. Cadet Lynch, attending a cocktail party, found himself in conversation with a Lieutenant Colonel Trenchard, who shook his head pityingly to hear that Lynch was training with Henry Belt.

“I was up with Old Horrors myself. I tell you it’s a miracle we ever got back. Belt was drunk two-thirds of the voyage.”

“How does he escape court-martial?” asked Lynch with an involuntary glance over his shoulder, for fear that Henry Belt might be standing near by with his red book.

“Very simple. All the top men seem to have trained under Henry Belt. Naturally they hate his guts but they all take a perverse pride in the fact. And maybe they hope that someday a cadet will take him apart.”

“Have any ever tried?”

“Oh, yes. I took a swing at Henry once. I was lucky to escape with a broken collarbone and two sprained ankles. And he wasn’t even angry. Good old Henry, the son of a bitch. If you come back alive—and that’s no idle remark— you’ll stand a good chance of reaching the top.”

Lynch winced. “Is it worth two years with Henry Belt?”

“I don’t regret it. Not now,” said Trenchard. “What’s your ship?”

“Old Twenty-five.”

Trenchard shook his head. “An antique. It’s tied together with bits of string.”

“So I’ve heard,” said Lynch glumly. “If I didn’t have so much vanity I’d quit tomorrow. Learn to sell insurance, or work in an office…”

The next evening Henry Belt passed the word. “Next Tuesday morning we go up. Have your gear packed; take a last look at the scenes of your childhood. We’ll be gone several months.”

On Tuesday morning the cadets took their places in the angel-wagon. Henry Belt presently appeared. “Last chance to play it safe. Anyone decide they’re really not space people after all?”

The pilot of the angel-wagon was disposed to be facetious. “Now, Henry, behave yourself. You’re not scaring anybody but yourself.”

Henry Belt swung his flat dark face around. “Is that the case, mister? I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars to make the trip in the place of one of the cads.”

The pilot shook his head. “Not for a hundred thousand, Henry. One of these days your luck is going to run out, and there’ll be a sad quiet hulk drifting in orbit forever.”

“I expect it, mister. If I wanted to die of fatbelly I’d take your job.”

“If you’d stay sober, Henry, there might be an opening for you.”

Henry Belt gave him his wolfish smile. “I’m a better man drunk than you are sober, except for mouth. Any way you can think of, from dancing the fandango to Calcutta rough-house.”

“I’d be ashamed to thrash an old man, Henry. You’re safe.”

“Thank you, mister. If you are quite ready, we are.”

“Hold your hats. On the count…” The projectile thrust against the earth, strained, rose, went streaking up into the sky. An hour later the pilot pointed. “There’s your boat. Old 25. And 39 right beside it, just in from space.”

Henry Belt stared aghast from the port. “What’s been done to the ship? The decoration? The red? The white? The yellow? The checkerboard?”

“Thank some idiot of a landlubber,” said the pilot. “The word came to pretty up the boats for a junket of Congressmen. This is what transpired.”

Henry Belt turned to the cadets. “Observe this foolishness. It is the result of vanity and ignorance. We will be occupied several days removing the paint.”

They drifted close below the two sails: No. 39 just down from space, spare and polished beside the bedizened structure of No. 25. In 39’s exit port a group of men waited, their gear floating at the end of cords.

“Observe those men,” said Henry Belt. “They are jaunty. They have been on a pleasant outing around the planet Mars. They are poorly trained. When you gentlemen return you will be haggard and desperate. You will be well trained.”

“If you live,” said the pilot.

“That is something which cannot be foretold,” said Henry Belt. “Now, gentlemen, clamp your helmets, and we will proceed.”

The helmets were secured. Henry Belt’s voice came by radio. “Lynch, Ostrander, will remain here to discharge cargo. Verona, Culpepper, von Gluck, Sutton, leap with cords to the ship; ferry across the cargo and stow it in the proper hatches.”

Henry Belt took charge of his personal cargo, which consisted of several large cases. He eased them out into space, clipped on lines, thrust them toward 25, and leapt after. Pulling himself and the cases to the entrance port, he disappeared within.

Discharge of cargo was effected. The crew from 39 transferred to the carrier, which thereupon swung down and away, thrust itself dwindling back toward Earth.

When the cargo had been stowed, the cadets gathered in the wardroom. Henry Belt appeared from the master’s cubicle. He wore a black T shirt which was ridged and lumped to the configuration of his chest, black shorts from which his thin legs extended, and sandals with magnetic filaments in the soles.

“Gentlemen,” said Henry Belt in a soft voice. “At last we are alone. How do you like the surroundings? Eh, Mr. Culpepper?”

“The hull is commodious, sir. The view is superb.”

Henry Belt nodded. “Mr. Lynch? Your impressions?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t sorted them but yet, sir.”

“I see. You, Mr. Sutton?”

“Space is larger than I imagined it, sir.”

“True. Space is unimaginable. A good spaceman must either be larger than space, or he must ignore it. Both difficult. Well, gentlemen, I will make a few comments, then I will retire and enjoy the voyage. Since this is my last time out, I intend to do nothing whatever. The operation of the ship will be completely in your hands. I will merely appear from time to time to beam benevolently about or—alas!—to make marks in my red book. Nominally I shall be in command, but you six will enjoy complete control over the ship. If you return us safely to Earth I will make an approving entry in rny red book. If you wreck us or fling us into the sun, you will be more unhappy than I, since it is my destiny to die in space. Mr. von Gluck, do I perceive a smirk on your face?”

“No, sir, it is a thoughtful half-smile.”

“What is humorous in the concept of my demise, may I ask?”

“It will be a great tragedy, sir. I merely was reflecting upon the contemporary persistence of, well, not exactly superstition, but, let us say, the conviction of a subjective cosmos.”

Henry Belt made a notation in the red book. “Whatever is meant by this barbaric jargon I’m sure I don’t know, Mr. von Gluck. It is clear that you fancy yourself a philosopher and dialectician. I will not fault this, so long as your remarks conceal no overtones of malice and insolence, to which I am extremely sensitive. Now, as to the persistence of superstition, only an impoverished mind considers itself the repository of absolute knowledge. Hamlet spoke on this subject to Horatio, as I recall, in the well-known work by William Shakespeare. I myself have seen strange and terrifying sights. Were they hallucinations? Were they the manipulation of the cosmos of my mind or the mind of someone—or something—other than myself? I do not know. I therefore counsel a flexible attitude toward matters where the truth is still unknown. For this reason: the impact of an inexplicable experience may well destroy a mind which is too brittle. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly, sir.”

“Very good. To return, then. We shall set a system of watches whereby each man works in turn with each of the other five. I thereby hope to discourage the formation of special friendships or cliques. Such arrangements irritate me, and I shall mark accordingly.

“You have inspected the ship. The hull is a sandwich of lithium-beryllium, insulating foam, fiber, and an interior skin. Very light, held rigid by air pressure rather than by any innate strength of the material. We can therefore afford enough space to stretch our legs and provide all of us with privacy.

“The master’s cubicle is to the left; under no circumstances Is anyone permitted in my quarters. If you wish to speak to me, knock on my door. If I appear, good. If I do not appear, go away. To the right are six cubicles which you may now distribute among yourselves by lot. Each of you has the right to demand the same privacy I do myself. Keep your personal belongings in your cubicles. I have been known to cast into space articles which I persistently find strewn about the wardroom.

“Your schedule will be two hours study, four hours on watch, six hours off. I will require no specific rate of study progress, but I recommend that you make good use of your time.

“Our destination is Mars. We will presently construct a new sail, then, while orbital velocity builds up, you will carefully test and check all equipment aboard. Each of you will compute sail cant and course and work out among yourselves any discrepancies which may appear. I shall take no hand in navigation. I prefer that you involve me in no disaster. If any such occur I shall severely mark down the persons responsible.

“Singing, whistling, humming, are forbidden, as are sniffing, nose-picking, smacking the lips, and cracking knuckles. I disapprove of fear and hysteria, and mark accordingly. No one dies more than once; we are well aware of the risks of this, your chosen occupation. There will be no practical jokes. You may fight, so long as you do not disturb me or break any instruments; however, I counsel against it, as it leads to resentment, and I have known cadets to kill each other. I suggest coolness and detachment in your personal relations. Use of the microfilm projector is of course at your own option. You may not use the radio either to dispatch or receive messages. In fact, I have put the radio out of commission, as is my practice. I do this to emphasize the fact that, sink or swim, we must make do with our own resources. Are there any questions?…Very good. You will find that if you all behave with scrupulous correctness and accuracy, we shall in due course return safe and sound, with a minimum of demerits and no casualties. I am bound to say, however, that in twelve previous voyages this has failed to occur.”

“Perhaps this will be the time, sir,” offered Culpepper suavely.

“We shall see. Now you may select your cubicles, stow your gear, generally make the place shipshape. The carrier will bring up the new sail tomorrow, and you will go to work.”

3

The carrier discharged a great bundle of three-inch tubing: paper-thin lithium hardened with beryllium, reinforced with filaments of monocrystalline iron—a total length of eight miles. The cadets fitted the tubes end to end, cementing the joints. When the tube extended a quarter-mile it was bent bow-shaped by a cord stretched between the two ends, and
further sections were added. As the process continued, the free end curved far out and around, and presently began to veer back in toward the hull. When the last tube was in place the loose end was hauled down and socketed home, to form a great hoop two miles and a half in diameter.

Henry Belt came out occasionally in his spacesuit to look on, and occasionally spoke a few words of sardonic comment, to which the cadets paid little heed. Their mood had changed; this was exhilaration, to be weightlessly afloat above the bright, cloud-marked globe, with continent and ocean wheeling massively below. Anything seemed possible, even the training voyage with Henry Belt! When he came out to inspect their work, they grinned at each other with indulgent amusement. Henry Belt suddenly seemed a rather pitiful creature, a poor vagabond suited only for drunken bluster. Fortunate indeed that they were less naive than Henry Belt’s previous classes! They had taken Belt seriously; he had cowed them, reduced them to nervous pulp. Not this crew, not by a long shot! They saw through Henry Belt. Just keep your nose clean, do your work, keep cheerful. The training voyage won’t last but a few months, and then real life begins. Gut it out, ignoring Henry Belt as much as possible.