Analog Science Fiction and Fact - 2014-01

by Penny Publications

  He heard an angry growl over his suit's radio. "All right, you had the ship's radio slaved to yours—I'll grant you that—but you don't any more. And you know what? I'm resetting the interrupt on the ship's computer. That means you'd better stay clear of the garbage chute... in about two minutes there's going to be a big ol' package popping out on its way to Jupiter, and I don't want you to go along for the ride. I want that suit you're wearing back."

  Adrian tried the hatch controls again, without result. "Do you think that Earth will let you get away with this?"

  "What? You think the Solar Police will stop us? The Lunar Patrol? The Baker Street Irregulars? Once the Holmes Door came on-line, nearly all the ships were scrapped. There's no one to come chasing after us, even if they wanted to."

  Adrian had to chuckle. "I plotted the Gandhi's course back to Earth and although I didn't look to see how long it will take, I'm willing to bet cash on the barrel head that there will be plenty of time to build some small, light ships from scratch. The Gandhi will have a welcoming committee, you can bet—"

  "This ship is no longer the Gandhi— it's the Freedom, " Blanton said. "Wait... where are you going?"

  Adrian chuckled. "I thought I'd take a walk. It's a nice day. Sunny... clear skies... Jupiter hanging huge over my shoulder. What else could a man ask for?"

  "Come back here!"

  Adrian snorted. "I don't take orders from conspiracy theory nuts."

  "I'm not a conspiracy theory nut!"

  "Sure you are," Adrian said, making his way past the base of the main communications antenna. "People have been pushing that UN takeover thing for years. Ever notice that it never seems to happen?"

  "That's because patriots—good men and women—are vigilant. If we weren't, they'd have taken over years ago."

  "Oh, I see... well, I, myself, have kept Luna from crashing down and destroying the Earth."

  " What? Luna isn't going to destroy Earth!"

  "Of course it is. But due to my valiant efforts, the Earth and all its people remain safe."

  "What are you talking about? You haven't done a thing!"

  Adrian chuckled. "Indeed. So I can take credit for Luna not going anywhere in exactly the same way that zealots like you can claim that you've stopped the UN from doing something dastardly. Both claims are equally valid. As long as you're using something that didn't happen as your 'proof' you can claim any damned thing you want."

  "I see you. You're behind the antenna."

  "You're so smart, " Adrian cooed. "I'll bet you're using camera 34." He waved jauntily towards an instrument cluster protruding from the hull about six meters aft. "Hi!"

  "I don't know what you think you're up to, but I've got control of the antenna."

  "Not any more. See this hatch? Behind it are the control boards and main transmitter banks. I've jacked into the signal buss and I'm retransmitting the recording I made of our little chat, after which we go live. I wouldn't want the folks on Earth to miss your paranoid raving."

  "I'll cut the power."

  "If you say pretty please, I'll even tell you how to do it so it counts, but by then I will have bypassed the power coupling and tapped into the main power buss. At which point your only option will be to power down the entire ship, which will take out the computer as well, not to mention life support. I suggest you think it through carefully before you take that step."

  "I'm going to kill you!" Blanton shouted.

  Shrugging in a hard suit produced no result that showed. "Come on out here and we'll talk about that."

  There was no answer to that. At that moment, Adrian caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned in time to see a body ejected from the ship. He tried to force his eyes away, but they betrayed him, watching the body slowly spin, arms drifting wide. He took a deep breath, trying to block the revulsion that rose within him.

  I can't stop Blanton from out here. I've got to get inside the ship. But how?

  He took inventory of the tools available to him. In principle, he could use his weldingrig to cut a hole in the hull, but access to the main part of the ship would mean cutting into a pressurized area. Not a good option. He needed something more controlled.

  The problem is that someone inside is actively trying to keep me out. There's no protocol for that. Adrian found his attention drifting—he shook his head, trying to clear it. People are losing their lives, and I'm woolgathering. I've got to focus.

  "Hey, Blanton!" Adrian called. "Riddle me something. Why is it that the United States are good, but the United Nations are bad, eh? It's unity and diversity that make us strong, you know."

  There was a long silence, or maybe it only seemed that way, but Blanton finally came back. "Does the word communism not exist in your pathetic little world or is it just that you think it's such a wonderful idea? How about socialism? Why would anyone with an ounce of sense want to be part of that?"

  Adrian planted his magnetic boots firmly against the hull and began removing retaining bolts from a small plate in the hull. "Oh, I don't know... maybe so you could get them to pay for your little project. If you're too proud to associate with people who live under different political systems, maybe you shouldn't steal their money."

  "You hate America!"

  "Now there's a brilliant comeback. Go look up the term non sequitur. You're supposed to come back with something carefully reasoned, not a catchphrase that has nothing whatsoever to do with what I said."

  Wrong plate. I've got to keep him distracted while I get this figured out.

  He put the first plate back, then removed the one next to it, then reached inside and detached a cable.

  "How's your air? Running out yet?" Blanton demanded.

  Adrian shrugged, though Blanton couldn't see it. "Doing fine on air. How's camera 34?"

  Blanton growled. "Dead. You're up to something."

  "Can't slip anything past you, can I? What's that I smell? A conspiracy? Quick! Call out the Solar Police!"

  "I told you, there's no such thing as the Solar Police!"

  Adrian chuckled as he clomped four plates aft, counting as he went. "Verily, and conspiracy nuts have no sense of humor."

  "I should have killed you when I had the chance."

  He knelt and began unbolting the panel at his feet. "Ah, but you didn't. Why? Because, although you would rather breathe vacuum than admit it, you need me."

  "I don't need you."

  "Okay, you get to fix the next hole in the hull." He used a cable with a magnet on each end to secure the plate to the hull. It slowly drifted to the full extent of the cable as the ship's rotation took hold. Adrian bent into the hole and began to detach an electronics module. This, too, he attached to the ship with a cable and let drift free.

  "There are other maintenance guys, you know. Freedom just hadn't jettisoned you yet, so you got picked. That Henri Borte guy was already well on his way to hell by the time the ship woke you up."

  "So the people Gandhi—"

  "Freedom!"

  "Gandhi I said and Gandhi I meant—Adrian is faithful, one-hundred percent. So the ones not tossed are your co-conspirators, I take it? That means there's a list somewhere, otherwise the computer would eject everyone."

  "I'm not saying anything more," Blanton said sulkily.

  The telltale in Adrian's suit went dark. Blanton had switched off.

  Oops... overdid it. So much for keeping him preoccupied.

  Adrian bent into the cavity left after the removal of the electronics module and pulled another almost as large. Then another. It was awkward due to the inf lexible hard suit's shell, but he managed.

  Okay, maybe I should have worn one of the small suits. This is going to be rough.

  He had exposed a smooth metal surface over a meter under the skin of the outer hull. He began unbolting that plate as well. Once it was loose, he turned it diagonally and carefully slid it into the ship through the opening he had created. Then, with infinite care, he began threading the hard suit through the openi
ng in the outer hull, through the gap in the electronics bay, and into the inner hole he'd opened.

  As tight as that was, it got more cramped still when he entered the rectangular tube leading toward the aft end of Hibernation Deck 1. The chute was designed to take hibernating colonists from the shuttles to Hibernation Deck 1 when they were boarding the ship. It could withstand pressurization, but was not currently under pressure.

  And there's the rub. How to get from vacuum on this side of the bulkhead into pressure in Hibernation Deck 1... without a pressure lock, and without access to the controls.

  He slid aft down the chute so he could get to the metal plate he had slid into the chute, then glued it into place with sealant intended to repair small air leaks. He used up two entire tubes of sealant and most of a third before he was satisfied that he had an improvised gasket that would hold air. It would have been better if he could have replaced the plate where it had been—where it would seal against proper gaskets—but that would require access to the outside of the panel to tighten the bolts and he needed to be on the inside.

  Not optimal. Not recommended. Not a good plan. But I'm short on options and time is running out. I only need it to hold temporarily, though.

  Adrian then made his way to the forward end of the chute. Here he had a proper port, a sliding hatch, but it was not designed to be used as an airlock. An interlock would prevent it opening if there was vacuum on the outside... his side.

  It was difficult in the tightly confined space, but he worked a drill past the widest part of the egg-shaped hard shell and above his head. He only had a single ten millimeter drill bit with him, but there was no help for that. He selected a spot on the bulkhead and began to drill.

  A small magnet attracted most of the metal thrown loose as he drilled, but some escaped, falling gently toward the outside of the ship. He couldn't remember how thick the metal of the bulkhead was—all he could do was drill and hope not to break the bit.

  The first indication that he was getting through to the inside was when the metal chips began to blow past him instead of falling. He could hear tiny ticking sounds as they rattled against the arm of his suit. Suddenly, the bit broke through and air began blasting through the finger-sized hole. He couldn't hear anything yet, but that would soon change.

  While the pressure was equalizing on both sides of the hatch, he unscrewed the access panel to the controls for the hatch, cut a wire, and stripped the end. He then cut away insulation on another wire to expose the metal underneath.

  This is where it gets dicey. The air pressure in the hibernation deck will fall as it pressurizes the chute. Eventually it will trigger a pressure alarm in the MOD. The question is, how long will it take Blanton to react?

  When the air pressure in the tunnel got to the point where he could hear the roar of the air rushing through the hole through the walls of his suit, he touched the two wires. Nothing. He waited another few moments and tried again. Still nothing.

  The pressure differential interlock is still engaged. If Blanton gets here while I'm still in this tunnel, I'm in trouble.

  Finally, he touched the wires and saw a small spark. The hatch slid open, allowing in a strong gust of air as the pressure finished equalizing. Adrian reached up, grasped the edges of the hatch, and heaved himself through into the hibernation deck. At once, he began falling toward the outside wall, but the fall was slow and he reached out with his gloved hands to break the slow motion impact.

  He reached up and hit the button to close the hatch. He thought he could hear a faint whistle from back down the tunnel. His improvised gasket must be leaking. He slapped a temporary patch against the hole he'd drilled in the bulkhead.

  He desperately wanted to take off the hard suit, but was afraid that Blanton might vent the air. On the other hand, he wouldn't be able to move quickly if he was in the suit, and he was under no illusions that Blanton would surrender meekly. He began shucking the suit.

  It was as he was backing out of the access port in the back of the suit that the hammer fell. Literally.

  His head and shoulders were still in the suit when the blow struck him just above the hip. Excruciating pain shot through his lower body. He convulsively kicked his knees forward, pushing against the suit. His upper body scraped through the port as he f lew backward, away from the suit. Blanton's hammer grazed the top of his head as he swung again.

  Blanton was between him and all the potential weapons—his tools—on his suit. He dodged as Blanton swung a third time, but that set off a nova of pain in his right hip. He twisted, wincing, realizing even as he did so that he was vulnerable, but the pain was unbearable.

  Blanton, however, had miscalculated. His wild swing possessed sufficient momentum that the follow-through took him through a complete somersault in the near weightless conditions, ending with his head striking the aft bulkhead.

  Without thinking, Adrian slapped the button to open the hatch to the chute, then locked his feet into the ladder and shoved Blanton headfirst into the opening. Blanton, stunned by the blow to his head and lacking any purchase, fought, but was unable to do more than rake his fingernails across Adrian's face. As soon as Blanton's feet cleared the hatch, Adrian hit the button to close it.

  Blanton's voice was muff led as it came through the metal of the hatch. "Let me out of here!"

  Adrian straightened painfully, holding his lower back. "What, so you can have another go at me with your hammer? I don't think so."

  "There's an air leak in here. I'll die. Let me out!"

  An ironic smile spread across Adrian's face. "Call it poetic justice. You used vacuum to kill more than seventy people."

  "At least give me a suit! Please! It's dark in here. I can't even see."

  Adrian checked the pressure indicator next to the hatch. There wasn't enough pressure differential yet to cause the interlock to seal the hatch. If he allowed Blanton any light, he might be able to puzzle out the wiring and force the hatch to open the same way he had. "What... and let you and your little hammer loose?"

  "I don't have the hammer. I lost it. I won't hit you with it. I'm—"

  "No dice. You conspiracy theory nuts are too dangerous."

  "You don't have the guts to kill me!" Blanton shouted.

  "You might be surprised what I'm capable of," Adrian replied, watching the air pressure readout fall slowly and wondering how Mahatma Gandhi would have handled the situation.

  "I'm told you had some internal damage," said Michel D'Anjou, the French liaison from the United Nations. "How are you feeling?"

  Adrian seesawed a hand. "Chipped pelvis, bruised kidney, and one hell of a massive contusion on my lower back. It hurt pretty badly, but I pulled a Belgian doctor out of hibernation and she got me through the worst of it. Then we went back into hibernation for the return to Earth. The problem is that you don't heal while you're in suspended animation— cellular regeneration stops just like the rest of your body. So now that I'm back on Earth I've got to deal with the pain, but they tell me that I'm going to be just fine."

  D'Anjou shook his head. "As you know, we found the file of those the fanatics wanted to save in Gandhi's computer and commenced a criminal investigation while you were on the return leg of your journey. That is now complete. Many arrests have been made. We have their ships and have identified and frozen the bank accounts that financed their activities. I wish I could say that the threat has been permanently nullified, but people like this..." He shrugged expressively.

  Adrian made a face. "I saw that the American Nationalist Party gained another couple of seats, I'm under no illusions that they're going away. That sort of paranoid us-againstthem mindset appeals to a lot of people. They're angry and afraid... but of the wrong things."

  "And not just in your United States, sad to say. We've got them, too. They listen to demagogues who stoke their fears and hatred and, well, we've seen the result. I wish I could say that I saw some hope that people would cease being so emotional, so angry, but I don't see that it will hap
pen anytime soon."

  "What about the mission? How soon will Gandhi be heading back out?" Adrian asked.

  D'Anjou took a deep breath. "Well, there you've touched a nerve. Or, to be more precise, your American Nationalist Party touched a nerve. You see, the ANP now has sufficient political power to block American funding to the United Nations—which they still claim is attempting some sort of takeover. Other nations, including, sadly, my own, look at that and choose not to advance funds either, given the demonstrated security breach on this flight. Everyone is afraid that the same thing could happen again—some extremist group might attempt to take over the next mission."

  "But the ship's already built," Adrian pointed out. "Surely it wouldn't be that expensive to refurbish the Gandhi and start again."

  D'Anjou said, "I'm told that the ship will be mothballed and put in orbit around Luna. Perhaps the day will come when nations can again trust one another and we will try again. For now, however, the ANP extremists have created a self-fulfilling prophecy. Their hatred and mistrust of the United Nations has led to a situation where the United Nations—more accurately its member nations—no longer feel they can trust the United States. Can you blame us?"

  "But surely with comprehensive security checks—" Adrian began.

  "We had those this time," D'Anjou said gently. "It wasn't enough. There are political counterparts to your ANP in China, Russia, and elsewhere. Their passions are now inflamed by what they see as an attempted American takeover of the Gandhi's mission, and—"

  "But it wasn't an American takeover attempt! It was the ANP. Those idiots don't represent all Americans."

  "I should hope not, but the point remains that—even as a minority—they were powerful enough to subvert the Gandhi's mission. And, as you have already noted, they are gaining, not losing political power."

  "So Gandhi isn't going back out?"

  "I'm sorry. No. The mission cannot be allowed to proceed with things in their present condition."

  "But if not now, when?"

  "When people everywhere step back from this madness. I'm afraid it won't be soon. But when the day comes, we'll already have the Gandhi. A little dusting, perhaps a fresh coat of paint, and we'll be ready to go. Anish will still be there. It's heartbreaking now, but we must be patient. The colony will be too far from home for us to help if the colonists begin killing one another once they are there. It would be very easy for the colony to fail. And then how long would it be before anyone tried again?"