"I can now detect a cloud of objects in front of the ship," said Albert. A cloud of yellow specks appeared on the screen in a spiraling pattern.
"What are they?" gasped Randy. Rose shut her eyes and prayed silently.
"Massive metal objects," said Albert. "A strike from any one of them would be enough to hole the ship. Even the negmatter barriers would be ineffective against objects this size."
"Can you vaporize them with your laser cannon?" asked Randy.
"I can get perhaps a dozen," said Albert. "But there are five hundred of them. The laser system was designed for coping with an occasional micrometeorite, not a meteor swarm."
Randy recalled the last meteor swarm he had watched back on Earth. It had been an exceptional display of the Perseid stream a number of Augusts ago. He had let the kids stay up late and they had all gone out to lie on the lawn and watch. The rate had peaked at almost one a second. Now he was facing five hundred in less than a second.
I was safe then, he thought to himself. I had the Earth's atmosphere to protect me. I wish I had it now. Those deadly missiles would turn into a harmless fireworks display.
"There is another ship approaching," said Albert from the upper left of the screen. "It is coming from the direction of Tau Ceti. I had not picked it up before, since I was concentrating nearly all my radar power in the direction of Oscar's ship."
"Who is it?" said Randy.
"I have received a message from the ship," said Albert. "It is from you."
"Let me see the message," Randy said. It appeared at the top of the screen.
"Hold the fort! The cavalry is coming! (Even if you can't see it.)"
"Will the ship get here in time?" asked Randy.
"No," said Albert. "It is decelerating at thirty gees and in fact is now going the other way. I calculate it will match speeds with us in a few days."
"What good is that?" yelled Randy, now genuinely worried. "Where's the cavalry he promised?"
"I think he dispersed it long ago," said Albert calmly. "There seems to be a cloud of hydrogen gas coming toward us. It will pass right between us and Oscar's ship, creating a temporary artificial atmosphere. It should be thick enough to vaporize the pellets."
"Hooray!" Rose piped up. "Randy to the rescue! I knew he'd think of something!"
I wonder when I thought of it? thought Randy. Then he had another thought. Just a little while ago, stupid! Still another thought followed. How could that be? Randy decided to stop thinking and just watch.
"ANY SECOND now ..." Oscar murmured as yellow display dots indicating the position of the torrent of buckets closed in on the slowly expanding blue-shifted image of his target. He had slowed down and changed the course of his ship slightly so that he could witness the strike but keep his ship clear of the resulting debris.
"What the hell!" he blurted as the yellow dots were rapidly replaced by bright streaks of evaporating metal.
"Hold on!" warned the mechanical voice of the computer. The computer had noticed the cloud of hydrogen gas through the ship's sensors, as well as the distant ship that had dispersed it, but since Oscar had blocked the computer from controlling the ship, the computer had done nothing about it. Because of imminent danger to a human, however, its safety monitor subroutine had overridden Oscar's blocks enough to shout out a warning.
Oscar was jerked forward in his seat belt as a glowing hemisphere of light appeared just ahead of his ship. The bowl of light grew brighter and contracted toward him as the acceleration increased. Groaning audibly under the stress, the ship glanced off the tenuous cloud of hydrogen gas, its multikilometer-diameter magnetic shield acting as a giant shock absorber.
Oscar blacked out.
... A SHARP pain in his right shoulder jerked Oscar awake. Dazedly he reached a hand up. There, under the large bruise from the shoulder belt, was an extremely tender spot where he could feel the broken end of a collarbone just under his skin.
"Did I get him?" he asked groggily.
"Fortunately, something happened to your buckets, so no human beings were killed," said the mechanical voice of his computer. "Your activities did result in the injury of one person, however—yourself. My safety monitor subroutine will be forced to report your actions when I next undergo periodic maintenance and upgrade."
"Shut up!" shouted Oscar angrily. He took control of the joyball and turned the ship until it was pointed in the direction of Tau Ceti. The star shone brightly off in the distance, while slightly off to one side were the red-shifted images of two ships. One was the large, plush space mansion of Randy's ship, while the other was a one-man working ship, like his.
"Can I catch up to them before they reach Tau Ceti?" he asked.
"Only if you go at maximum acceleration ... and even then it would take four months," said the mechanical voice. "That course of action is forbidden, anyway. The radiation levels on the flight deck will reach five rems a day. Considering you already have accumulated over one hundred rems, you would have exceeded six hundred rems by the time you catch up. There is a high probability you will be dead before you get there."
"What are my chances of survival?" growled Oscar sullenly.
"I have some medications that will help alleviate some of the radiation damage," said the computer. "Your chances of survival are less than fifty percent."
Oscar almost gave up. All he had to do was go down to the warpgate deck, activate the emergency escape mode of the artificial warpgate, and step through to surrender to the Reinhold employees sure to be waiting at the other mouth.
"I'm not giving up!" he roared, shaking his fist at the two ships on the screen. The angry motion brought a sharp pain to his shoulder, and he reached up to touch the sore spot over the broken collarbone. With an exhausted sigh, he got up from the pilot's console and shuffled over to the rack next to the immersion tank. Because of his broken collarbone, he had to get one of the ship's robomechanics to help him on with his suit. As he lowered himself into the tank and his aching body started to float in the buoyant fluid, he heaved a sigh of relief.
I could almost enjoy this, he thought, as he forced his lungs to accept their first breath of liquid. If it weren't for the constant sensation of drowning. He drifted off into fitful sleep.
He was a tiny tin robot again, and Randy was a huge giant controlling his every action with an electronic control box. But now he was being forced to carry the giant Randy on his tiny, aching shoulders ...
FOUR DAYS after the attack, Randy and Rose were waiting at the airlock while a space-suited figure jetted across on a cable strung between the two ships. He was carrying two green metal boxes. Randy could now read the name on the other ship; it was John Wayne. The John Wayne was sheltered in the magnetic field of Timemaster, since it had to turn off its own shielding fields in order for the two ships to approach each other. Both ships were under one-gee deceleration to give comfortable footing on board, only now they were facing away from Tau Ceti and were decelerating instead of accelerating.
The man cycled through the airlock, and put the green metal boxes into the storage net above the suit rack. When he took off his helmet, Randy was prepared. It was certainly himself, all right, but he had grown a mustache. The mustache was a chestnut brown and made the man look very debonair. Rose ran to greet him.
"Thank you for saving us!" she said, embracing the visitor and giving him a big kiss. As they separated, she wiped her upper lip and grinned at the man's mustache.
"Say," she said, giggling. "That tickles ... and it looks very nice."
Gee, it does look good, Randy thought. I think I'll grow one.
"Hi, youngster," said the man, coming over and shaking hands.
"Thanks for coming to our rescue," said Randy.
"John Wayne and I were glad to help," said the man. "For a while there. I thought I might not have hauled enough liquid hydrogen to do the job." He gave Randy a friendly clap on the shoulder. "I was afraid I'd be short."
"Stop that ..." Randy groaned, giving the
man a punch on the shoulder in return. "Say, what's in the green boxes?"
"They're called 'feeders'," said the man. "They came from the future. According to the instructions that came with them, I'm going to need them later." He gave his helmet to Godget and hung up his outeralls on the hook next to Randy's. Then, still in his tightsuit, he crowded into the elevator with Randy and Rose.
"Why don't you go upstairs and change," said Randy, punching the buttons for both the main floor and the bedroom floor of the mansion. "Rose and I will wait for you in the living room. I'm sure Didit can help you find something comfortable."
"At least I don't have to worry about it fitting," said the man.
"WHAT SHALL I call you?" Rose asked as she sat on the living room sofa with their visitor. Randy handed them both glasses of champagne and, taking his, sat in his recliner chair. The grandfather clock ticked quietly against the wall as the man thought.
"Randy the Elder?" he finally suggested.
"That would make me Randy the Younger," said Randy, not liking the idea. "We already have a Randy the Younger at home—Junior."
"Then there is the even older Randy with the beard up ahead of us," reminded Rose.
"He could be Randy the Eldest," the man suggested.
"I don't think it matters," said Randy. "Each of us knows which is which. Rose can just holler 'Hey, you,' and we'll come just as fast."
"Shouldn't we be coming up on Randy the Eldest soon?" said the mustached man. In nearly simultaneous motions the two men shrugged their identical cuff-comps out of their sleeves and interrogated Albert. Albert, unfazed, answered them both.
"The Errol Flynn has backtracked to join up with us," said Albert. "It should arrive about an hour after dinner." The grandfather clock chimed half past six.
"Well, in that case," said Randy, drinking the last of his champagne, "we might as well not wait for him. What are we having for dinner tonight, dear?"
"Corned beef and cabbage, with smash on the side," said Rose.
"Again?" Randy complained. "We had that last week."
"Sounds good to me," said the mustached man, getting up and gallantly holding out his hand to help Rose up out of the sofa. Rose gave him a loving smile and led the way to the dining room. Randy followed glumly behind.
THE THREE were waiting at the airlock door when another space-suited figure arrived, this time from the Errol Flynn. There was no surprise this time when the man took off his helmet. Underneath was the bearded man who had saved Randy from Oscar the first time.
And is supposed to save me again, thought Randy.
Rose grabbed the bearded man and gave him a big hug and kiss. Randy was instantly jealous again.
"Say," said Rose, stepping back to look at the man's beard, "you've let it grow longer, haven't you? Looks very nice now—not like you forgot to shave—but distinguished-looking." She scratched him under the chin and he rumbled a deep-throated purr at the attention. The mustached man stepped forward to interrupt.
"I don't believe we've met recently," he said, putting out his hand. "I'm Randy."
"I'd recognize you anywhere," said the bearded man, shaking hands. "Even with that puny excuse for a mustache." He twisted the ends of the monstrous handlebar above his full chestnut beard in obvious pride. He turned to look at Randy.
"If you'll send Didit down to the dressing room with something comfortable, I'll meet you three up in the living room shortly," he said.
Randy looked down at the clothing he was wearing. It was his most comfortable outfit, charcoal-grey slacks and charcoal-grey V-neck sweater over a light-blue, long-sleeved, turtleneck cotton jersey. The man with the mustache was wearing his second most comfortable outift, light-grey slacks, open-necked white shirt, and a black blazer. In one ear was Randy's gigantic tiger's-eye.
"I'm afraid we two have all the comfortable stuff," said Randy. "Why don't you call Didit yourself, and discuss with him what's left?"
"OK," said the bearded man, pulling back the cuff on his space gauntlets to get to his cuff-comp. "See you upstairs soon."
THE BEARDED man came slowly down the circular staircase in a white "cricket outfit" that Randy used for summer-afternoon lawn parties back on Earth. It consisted of a white, sleeveless, V-neck wool sweater over a long-sleeved white cotton shirt, white cotton slacks, white suede shoes, and a white velvet hair ribbon. Climbing up his left ear was a graduated set of iridescent pearls, and from the right ear dangled Venus's Tear, the pride of Randy's jewel collection. Randy was annoyed at the impertinence of his guest, but tried not to let it show.
"I'm glad you could join us," Randy said from his recliner chair.
"I wouldn't miss this night for anything," said the bearded man as he sat on the sofa on the other side of Rose from the man with the mustache. Randy was a little puzzled by the remark, but then again, the man had been here this very night twice before, so naturally he couldn't miss coming back.
"Brandy?" Randy offered, getting up to go to the liquor cabinet. He got out four large crystal snifters, filled them generously, and passed them around.
"To Rose, the spot of joy in my life," Randy said, raising his glass.
"To Rose!" the others said, lifting their glasses to her. She smiled with pleasure.
"To my Randys," she toasted back. "I love you one and all." They all had a sip of brandy, then Rose leaned back.
"I was wondering," she said, "what the age difference was between you three. I know the Randy with the beard is the oldest, and the Randy with the mustache is the next oldest, and—"
"And that beardless youth hogging the recliner is the youngest," said the bearded man.
"But what are your ages?" Rose continued, looking alternately at the two older men.
"What's the date on this ship, young man?" asked the man with the beard.
"A few days short of New Year's Day, 2054," replied Randy, consulting his cuff-comp.
"Well, that makes you two months short of forty-two years old," said the bearded man. He turned to the man with the mustache. "What date does your cuff-comp have?" he asked.
The mustached man looked at his cuff-comp. "The twenty-fifth of July, 2056," he said. "That makes me forty-four ... and a half."
"And mine says twenty-ninth of July, 2057," said the bearded man. "Which makes me forty-five and a half."
"I'll be forty-four soon," said Rose, looking surprised. "You two are older than me."
"I said I would put you on a relativistic rocketship so I could catch up with you," said the bearded man, laughing.
"So you did, Mr. Buck Rogers Hunter," she replied. Then, patting the comfortable sofa, she added, "But I have to admit, this is no tin can you put me on."
Randy noticed that his brandy was almost gone. Getting up, he went to the sideboard as the conversation continued.
"Anyone care for another splash of brandy?"
THE PINE log in the fireplace was now a broken pile of charcoal kept alive by the gas log underneath. The grandfather clock struck eleven. The bearded man yawned and stretched flamboyantly. "Time to go to bed," he said loudly. The room grew pregnant with silence.
"I assume you two gentlemen will be wanting to go back to your ships ..." started Randy.
"Say, Rose," the mustached man interrupted, pulling on Rose's elbow. "I'll have to be warping back tomorrow, and I was wondering ..."
"Just a minute!" said Randy angrily, getting up from his chair. "Rose is my wife, and she's going to bed with me!"
"Let her decide!" insisted the mustached man. Randy noticed that the bearded man didn't seem to be concerned at all, but was just sitting back comfortably on the sofa, his hands behind his head and a broad smile on his face, watching the action.
"Now just a minute!" Rose exploded, getting up from the sofa and getting between the two men. She pushed the man with the mustache back down on the sofa, then turned to Randy. Taking him by the arm, she led him to the center seat on the sofa that she had just vacated. "Sit down!" she said firmly.
Ran
dy sat down, and the three men looked up from the sofa at an extremely indignant Rose. For a long while, nothing was said; then the indignation on Rose's face was slowly replaced by amused contemplation.
"I was just thinking about Chem 102," she said. Randy frowned, uncomprehending. She walked toward them, hips swinging, and sat down on Randy's lap, then stretched out until she was lying across the laps of all three men. "Remember?" she continued, looking up at the bearded face above her. "When you tried to teach me about solubility?" She wriggled comfortably, then reached up to scratch the bearded man under his chin while she looked down her body at the other two men.
The bearded man purred loudly.
"This looks like a very interesting concentration ratio," Rose went on. "Three Randy molecules to one Rose molecule ..." She paused. "Why don't we four go upstairs and see if we can't snuggle all four molecules into one three-meter-diameter container?"
"WELL, GOOD-bye, young man," said the mustached man as he shook hands with Randy. Then he slapped the bearded oldster on the shoulder. "I know I'm leaving you in good hands." He reached up to the inside of the top of the pod and grabbed the handholds, then stepped into the foot stirrups at the bottom. Between the two foot stirrups were the two green metal boxes.
Both Randy and the bearded man started to reach for Rose; then the bearded man pulled his hands away to let Randy do the job. Randy, feet in wall stirrups, took Rose by the waist and lifted her into the pod. There, she grabbed the mustached man around his chest and wrapped her legs around behind his.
"It's going to be a close fit ..." said Randy as he used the wall controls to slowly bring the pod halves together. The bearded man moved around the closing pod to keep watch, tucking in Rose's elbows and knees as the two halves came together. Finally the pod was closed, and the two men waited as a silvery skin of negmatter flowed from its storage container out over its electrostatic bed in the outer surface of the pod until the pod became a long, featureless silver egg with net-zero mass.
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