The Forever Hero (12 page)

“No time,” muttered Gerswin, but the corridor was so silent that his low words carried to the major, who turned to identify the speaker.

“That might be, Lieutenant. That might be.”

The major glanced back at the sealed doors behind them and at the ragged breach through the tiled wall.

“Darden, you and N'Bolgia stay here. Just in case,” ordered the major.

In case of what, wondered Gerswin. Two people won't be able to stop those doors if they're powered.

Despite his misgivings, he followed the major and the others through the opening and into a square hallway, from which branched three other corridors.

The major took the right-hand one, the one which had a red arrow pointing again downward. That corridor ended abruptly less than a hundred meters farther when it expanded into an archway which led to a semicircular hall. The hall was filled with low, wide consoles arranged in arcs facing the circular section of wall. On the wall stretched a map of the Earth, continent by continent.

Gerswin frowned at the arbitrary markings within the continents, then relaxed as he realized they represented not only the topography, but some sort of political boundaries.

He searched and found the Noram boundaries and tried to compare them mentally with what his current charts showed. The wall display was different. To what degree he was uncertain, although some of the differences were obvious. While the coastal areas seemed the same, off the western Noram coasts, where the display showed ocean, there were also a series of lines enclosing “political” boundaries, as if to indicate that the continent had extended farther once than it now did.

Several moments passed as the group surveyed the room.

“Look!”

Gerswin studied the map again, trying to figure out what he was to look for, when he saw the blinking red dot slowly traversing from the lower left toward the upper right.

He pulled at his chin. Something else about the wall map bothered him, not just the moving dot, although he wondered about it as well.

His mouth dropped as it hit him all at once, and he wanted to pound his own head for his slowness in understanding. The display was neither painted nor embossed, not a static display, but a composite projection.

The display showed the actual terrain as it existed right at the moment. The lines represented some sort of governmental or political boundaries dating back to the time the projection had been developed. That was why the lines on the western Noram coast were projected out over the ocean.

But what were the occasional lights on the map? Some seemed
stationary while others moved. Gerswin could see three red ones, two pale blue ones, and a green.

One of the red ones—stationary—seemed to match the position of orbit control.

“That's it!” he whispered, but his voice carried in the quiet.

“That's what, Lieutenant?” asked Major Hylton.

“Just a guess, Major. Red lights represent strange orbiting bodies. Blue and green are known, probably what remains of their network.”

“Are you suggesting that this equipment is operational?”

“Has to be. One red light moves.”

“After more than a thousand years, Lieutenant?”

Gerswin shrugged, wished he had kept his exclamation to himself. “Check it out. One red light should have orbit control position. Others may be captured satellites, hulks, objects in orbit. Wouldn't be surprised if the green or blue lights are satellites in orbit, maybe beaming information here…somewhere, somehow.”

“That center light is about right for orbit control,” offered one of the techs.

“If you're right, Lieutenant, this could be the find of the century. Think of it. Actual operating pre-Federation equipment.”

Gerswin refrained from shaking his head. While they would have discovered what he had speculated, sooner or later, the discovery only left a sour taste in his mouth. Why, he could not have described, but the bitterness was hard to swallow.

He edged back toward the archway while the technicians' speculations continued.

“What sort of power…”

“Can you believe the clarity of that display? Must have a resolution…”

“Consoles sealed shut…”

Quietly, he ducked out and headed back up the passageway to where the three corridors had branched. Since the two guards were on the outside of the portals, chatting to each other, where neither could see the junction, he was able to follow the green arrow without being challenged.

Despite the passage of who knew how many years, there was no dust on the smooth and seamless floor.

Gerswin shook his head. Could the Empire build something to last more than a dozen centuries, without any outside direction, and still have it function? He doubted it, and that bothered him as well.

What else lay under the scoured rolling hills and the rock of the mountains?

The green arrow led him to a series of five doors, plain ordinary hinged doors, doors that stood open.

Gerswin peered inside the first door.

Another narrow corridor beckoned, lined with doors at three meter intervals. The pilot walked down the passageway to the first door and stuck his head within.

His suspicions were correct. The small rooms were quarters, each with an alcove for a bunk, though none remained; a built-in desk with an oblong console, now covered with a flat metal plate; and two built-in lockers. Besides the gray metal of the built-ins and the console, nothing had been left.

A quick survey of the next few rooms showed only a similar pattern.

Gerswin retreated to the larger corridor and checked the second of the five doors. Same pattern. That was true of the third and fourth doors as well.

The fifth door led him down a wider corridor to a set of double doors, closed, but not locked. He glanced back the thirty meters to the open door before opening the double doors and stepping through. A vacant room, roughly thirty meters on a side, greeted him. On the far side, two sets of double doors, spaced equidistantly along the wall, stood closed.

Gerswin suspected he would find another room behind them, empty except for plated-over spots in the wall and flooring, but he crossed the room he would have described as a dining hall in quick steps and pushed back one of the swinging doors. It moved silently at his touch, and he looked into a narrower room with plated-over spots on walls and floors that had once been a kitchen. A sealed archway was the only other sign of an exit.

Gerswin nodded as he recrossed the ancient dining hall and retraced his steps back to the original junction. The two guards did not hear him as they discussed the merits of freefall dancing.

He slipped past the open portals and began to follow the black arrow. As he turned the first corner and walked toward another set of open portals, similar in size and construction to the pair he had just passed, he could hear the murmur of voices behind him.

Once he was through the still-shining portals, he stood at the top of a sharply descending ramp that made a right angle turn roughly every twenty meters. He started down.

The overhead lighting was still furnished by the twin panel strips built in flush with the overhead, still with the same constant intensity.

After what Gerswin judged to have been a descent of nearly fifty meters and four complete circuits, the corridor ended abruptly. Fac
ing the pilot was a wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling sheet of the black metal that had sealed the main exterior gates. Unlike the outside, this time the metal was featureless, merely a smooth finish across the corridor.

In the middle, at eye-level, were a series of symbols. One was a red hand held up in the human halt signal. The second was comprised of three luminescent green triangles within a shining yellow circle. A single word was beneath, which Gerswin could not read. The third symbol was a skull and crossbones.

Gerswin smiled grimly in spite of himself. The message was clear.

After a last look to make sure the way was completely sealed, he turned and trudged back up the ramp.

He slowed as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Gerswin here!” he called.

“Lieutenant?”

“The same.”

He waited as one of the techs peered around the corner, laser in hand.

“It's him, ser.”

“What are you doing here? Why didn't you wait?” Leading the crew was Major Hylton.

“Just wanted to take a look around, ser. Didn't want to get in your way.”

“Lieutenant, in the future, please refrain from exploring on your own. We could have failed to recognize you, and we do need some transportation back to Prime Base.”

Gerswin smiled.

“Sorry, ser. I'll be more careful.”

“What's down below?”

“Hades only knows. Sealed with that black metal about two turns down.”

“Sealed?”

“Yes, ser. Three clear danger signals posted.”

“Should see that…,” muttered one of the techs standing next to the major.

“Yes, we should see that,” repeated the senior officer.

Gerswin stepped to one side. “Probably more your orbit than mine, Major.”

“Well…We should have at least an overall idea of what's here for our report.”

Gerswin stood next to the wall as the dozen technicians followed the major on his downward travels.

Then he turned and climbed back up to the portals and the two guards, who were still swapping stories.

“Gerswin here,” he announced. “I'm returning to the skitter to get ready for the return trip.”

“Fine, Lieutenant.”

“Hey, what's down there?”

“Something they'll wish they hadn't found. My guess, anyway.”

At the inquisitive, nearly hurt look on Darden's face, Gerswin expanded his cryptic remark. “A current geographic projection still operating from satellite transmitters, a bunch of empty quarters, and a sealed tunnel they'll never open, marked with universal danger symbols. The projection seems to be updated moment by moment.”

“Still operational?”

“Absolutely. The major doesn't know whether to be in ecstasy or worried as Hades.”

“Worried is what he ought to be,” opined N'Bolgia.

“You serious about that projection, Lieutenant?”

“Dead serious. Shows the mountains, the oceans. Think it even shows I.S.S. orbit control.”

“Anything else?”

“That's enough. Sealed consoles, empty rooms. Place was closed down permanently for a reason. Don't understand why the projection was left operational.”

“Doesn't make much sense.”

“No. Not now.” Gerswin shook his head. “Anyway, that's all.”

“That's enough,” offered N'Bolgia.

“Might be,” returned Gerswin as he turned away from the two and headed up the corridor toward the exit tunnel and the skitter.

Outside the clouds had lightened, and another group was making its way down the hillside from the ridge.

In the middle of the group, mostly officers, Gerswin could make out the slightly rounded figure of the commandant, Senior Commander Mestaffa.

Gerswin sighed and waited, standing beside the laser-bored tunnel until the others reached it.

“Lieutenant, have you seen Major Hylton?”

“Yes, ser. He is checking out the installation.”

“Installation?”

“Yes, ser. I am sure the major will be able to brief you. It begins about eight meters back into this tunnel. That's the entrance to the old structure. Fully lit.”

Gerswin did not smile at the thought of acting more like a tour guide than a pilot.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, ser.”

Gerswin started to head back toward his skitter when Captain Carfoos snapped, “Where are you going?”

“Back to my skitter, Captain. Make sure it's ready for the return. Can't leave it here overnight. So I either take it back empty or full. Need to get it preflighted and ready.”

“All right, Lieutenant.” Carfoos tapped a Marine near the rear of those waiting in line to follow the commandant. “Kyler, you take the lieutenant's position here.”

“Yes, ser.”

Gerswin snapped a salute at the captain and took a long first stride toward the skitter. Trust some career types to post a guard long after the real need had passed.

The wind swept through his hair as he reached the ridgetop and looked down. Four skitters were lined up across the flat space below.

He started down.

Perdry was checking the tail section when Gerswin reached the cargo ramp. The tech dropped to the clay and took several steps toward the pilot.

“Interesting, Lieutenant?”

“One way of describing it.”

In short sentences, Gerswin recounted his tour of the ancient installation, concluding with his encounter with the commandant and his entourage.

“Sounds like them,” observed Perdry, pointing in the general direction of the other three skitters. “Took three to bring in what we brought with one.”

Gerswin nodded slightly.

“Lieutenant? That place bad news?”

“I think so, Perdry. Think so. But not for the reasons they think. Has secrets they won't be able to understand. Drive them crazy with worry. Wonder what else is hidden here.”

“Bad news,” affirmed the tech. “Definite bad news.” But he returned to his checks.

Gerswin started on the other side of the skitter, letting the mystery of the gates drop into his subconscious, for the moment.

Not that he could do anything at all. Not now, perhaps not ever.

“Put on your gloves first, Lieutenant,” suggested Markin.

“Gloves?”

“The plasthins. You can still feel what you're working with.”

Gerswin frowned. “Why the gloves?”

“The turbine blades are polished as smooth as we can get them. The tolerances are in thousandths of millimeters. You touch that blade edge with your fingertip—there's a touch of dampness and acid there. Also, it's sharp enough to cut your finger. Then we have to worry about blood and water and acid. Sooner or later, that could unbalance the blade or weaken it.” Markin laughed.

Gerswin did not bother to hide his puzzled expression.

“That's the official line. But most times, especially here, one of you hotshots will beat the blades to frags before they have a chance to weaken.”

Gerswin finished pulling on the ultrathin tech gloves.

“So why the gloves?

“A couple of reasons. It gets the techs in the habit of being careful around delicate machinery. Also keeps you from carrying in contaminants that really could scratch things up.”

Markin stood by the thruster access panel.

“Move over here, Lieutenant.”

Gerswin stood to the left, but as close as he could to see what Markin was doing.

“Here's the standard access, the one you use for a preflight. Now…see here? Through the tech access panels? Don't open this in the open hangar bays or out in the field except in an emergency. It will change the temperature too quickly and let in contaminants at the ring level.”

Gerswin edged forward.

Markin pointed.

“This is what I wanted to show you. You can see the joint here, the whole series.”

The tech touched the base of one of the individual blades with his gloved fingertips and gently worked it free. The entire curved blade was soon in his hand, nearly half a meter long and perhaps ten
centimeters wide, the curve so slight as to be forgotten, so smooth it was mirrorlike in finish despite the darkness of the alloy.

“See how easy it comes out?”

Gerswin nodded.

“Don't you wonder why it stays in when you're flying?”

“Never thought about it.”

“All right. You saw how I took it out. You try another one.”

Gingerly, gingerly, the lieutenant touched a blade. He could feel the wobble, though he could not see the motion, as he eased it out of the mounting ring.

“Now put it back in.”

Gerswin did, with the same exaggerated care, oblivious to whatever Markin was doing.

“Now take mine and replace it.”

Gerswin took the preferred blade. It felt faintly warm to the touch even through the plasthin gloves, which were supposed to be thermally insulated.

He eased it into the slot, but for some reason, the blade jammed when it was halfway into place.

“Seems jammed.”

“Leave it there. Don't push it. Don't force it. Just support it.”

The pilot frowned, but did as he was told.

“Does it feel cooler now?”

“Yes.”

“Try again. With just a tiny bit of pressure. Just a bit.”

The blade eased most of the way in, but an edge remained, not visible, but Gerswin could tell.

“There's an edge stuck out.”

“Is there?”

“I'm sure.”

Markin lifted a scopelike instrument from the kit at his feet and stood beside Gerswin, who stepped back to let the tech look at the mounting ring.

“Where?”

“There.”

“You're right.” Markin put down the instrument. “We'll wait a moment, till it cools down enough to get out easily.”

“Cool down? You mean the blades are that heat sensitive?”

“I played a bit of a trick on you, Lieutenant. I gave you full thermthins there, for hot engine work. When you're done, I'd like them back.”

Gerswin shook his head.

“Not sure I understand, Markin.”

“Simple, ser. The thruster blades and the mounts are heat sensitive. Cold now…they are. That's why the blades are loose. If you shook the engine without the seal ring in place, every one would fall out.

“While you were taking out the second blade, I switched blades and used a lasertorch on the one I gave you to heat it up. That's what happens when you light off. As the thruster speed builds, the heat increases, blades tighten.

“Now, before we forget, would you pull the one you put in?”

Gerswin was tempted to pull the wrong one out of perversity, until he remembered he might be the one flying with the flawed blade. He handed the substitute, which had cooled enough to slide out easily, to Markin, who examined it with the scopelike instrument.

“Stet. Right one, or should I say wrong one,” grunted the tech. “Here's the right one. Want to put it in?”

“If you don't mind.”

“Go ahead. You're the pilot who'll fly it.”

Gerswin tried to insure that the blade was seated correctly and identically to the others.

He felt relieved when Markin inspected his work with the instrument and rechecked the retaining seal. As he waited while Markin reclosed the tech access panel and then the preflight panel, he let his eyes run over the smooth finish of the flitter, admiring the way in which the techs had managed to return it to flying condition time after time.

“Lieutenant, the question is: Did you get the point?”

“Markin, I'm just a dumb pilot. Can see the reason for care. If something got inside the housing once the thruster heated up, you would get increased stress on both blade and housing. Enough to cause a fracture?”

“Lieutenant, I'll give you half. You might make a better tech than a pilot. That's the tech answer.”

Gerswin shook his head. What was the pilot answer?

Markin smiled.

“Lieutenant, what happens if you're in a hurry and feed full power to that thruster before the blades have heated up?”

Gerswin almost pulled at his chin with the gloves still on his hands, then jerked his left hand away, realizing that his skin was damp and not wanting to contaminate the gloves.

“Oh…sorry, Markin. Not thinking clearly. If the blades aren't tight, they'd vibrate. Could that vibration snap them at the base?”

“They're probably stronger than that,” answered the tech, “but if
you had some that had already been stressed by too many full power cold starts, you could throw at least one. And if it let loose at the wrong angle, you'd lose the whole thruster.”

Gerswin shivered.

“Would it go through the housing?”

“Never seen that. The composite is tough. A loose blade could bounce back into the fuel line sprays.”

This time Gerswin nodded slowly.

“Guess I've got a lot to learn, Markin.”

“You're young, Lieutenant. You got time. Especially here, you have time.”

Gerswin nodded again, slowly pulling the thin thermal gloves off from the wrist backward, careful not to touch the outside surfaces.

“See you tomorrow, Lieutenant.”

“Tomorrow, Markin,” agreed the pilot.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow.