"Oh, shut up," Harwitt said. "I don't want money damages ten years from now, I want a refinery worker! It is too late to bring someone else out to take his place, but we can get some use out of Sales. He will have to do."
"I say, wait a moment—"
Captain Greiner seemed resigned. "Yes, Dr. Vaagts. I expected to hear from you sooner or later."
"Sales is signed up with Rheinmettal," Vaagts said, "and we will need him. You can't take him for Westinghouse—"
"Does Rheinmettal stand responsible for his actions?" Harwitt demanded. "You brought him here."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm not being ridiculous. Somebody's got to compensate Westinghouse for the loss of our worker. I say we have a right to Sales as replacement for Lundgren."
"But he would be of little use to you," Vaagts said. "You admit he is untrained for refinery work. But he has a good record in deep mining operations, and we can use him. Suppose, Joseph, that we keep him working for us, and compensate you for Lundgren's passage with funds withheld from his pay?"
"Rather have a worker than money," Harwitt said. "But I suppose we could make a deal. You'd have to pay interest, of course."
"I think that can be agreed," Vaagts said.
"You are speaking of slavery!" Pacifico shouted.
"Damn it, what about my dead partner?" Dykes demanded. "And his family back on Earth?"
"Ah," Vaagts said. "I suppose restitution to Lundgren's family is in order as well—we will divide Sales's pay between Westinghouse and Lundgren's family—
"Slavery," Pacifico said again.
"You can't do this to me," Sales shouted.
Everyone began talking at once. "Civil rights—"
"Screw his rights—"
"Put the bastard outside and get it over with," Dykes said again. He didn't sound so positive now. "Only—maybe it's not so bad, making him pay—"
"We still have not established Mr. Sales's legal obligation to anyone." Pacifico said.
"Captain, may I respectfully request," Dr. Vaagts said, "that if that extremely unpleasant lawyer person does not keep silent so that interested parties can come to agreement, we put him outside—"
"And who'd pay Interplanet compensation for losing Pacifico?" someone asked. "Take up a collection?" another voice added hopefully.
"Let us first determine who are the interested parties," Captain Greiner said. "First, of course, Mr. Sales himself."
"Glad you jokers realize I'm still here," Sales said.
"Shut up," Dykes yelled.
"Second," Captain Greiner continued, "the relatives and friends of Mr. Lundgren. Certainly they must have a voice in any settlement. Third, the two companies: Rheinmettal, which employs Sales and has paid for his passage; and Westinghouse, which has lost the services of Mr. Lundgren. Are there any others?"
"Justice!" Pacifico said loudly.
"If all interested parties are satisfied then justice has probably been served," Greiner said. "Now: Mr. Dykes, what do you propose?"
"Put him out—only I'll say this. If Carol Lundgren and the kids can get something out of this, that'd be better. Won't do them any good if we space this little creep."
"So. And we have heard the proposals of the interested firms," Greiner said. "It now remains to hear from Mr. Sales himself. Sales, you are charged with murder. How do you plead?"
"It was a goddam accident—"
"We can, if you like, call witnesses and determine just what happened." Greiner said. "But I think we already know. There was an argument. You began a fight. You were losing it, and for whatever reason you drew a weapon which you used to menace Mr. Lundgren. Do you disagree so far?"
"Well—I just wanted to make him stop beatin' on me," Sales said. "I didn't intend to hurt him! You all saw it, somebody pushed him, he fell into my knife. I didn't go after him."
"I do not dispute that," Greiner said. "Does anyone?"
There were murmurs, but no one spoke up.
"About the way I saw it," Kevin said. Ellen nodded.
"The fact remains that you drew the weapon and menaced Mr. Lundgren with it, and thus you are the responsible party. You also began the fight."
"He provoked me—"
"But you struck the first blow."
"Fair fight's no murder," someone said.
"Perhaps," Greiner said. "But this was hardly a fair fight, with one party armed and the other not warned. I do not say what I would do if there were a formal duel aboard my ship, but I do say this was not a fair fight as I understand it. Have we established the facts to everyone's satisfaction?"
"This is terrible procedure," Pacifico shouted.
Greiner ignored him. "Then, Mr. Sales, you are certainly guilty of manslaughter. Do you dispute that?"
"He provoked me," Sales insisted.
"And you are accordingly found guilty of that charge," Greiner said. "We have no jail facilities aboard this ship, and it is not my job to provide punishment in any event. I sentence you to forfeiture of all pay and allowances for five years. You will continue to be employed by Rheinmettal, which will take sufficient measures to prevent your injuring anyone else, and your pay will be divided equally between the family of your victim and the company which employed him. So ordered. First Officer, write it into the log and I'll sign it. Dr. Vaagts, I deliver this man into your care. The ship's company is dismissed."
The rest of the trip to Ceres was uneventful—until the last day.
Kevin had once again been assigned to bridge duties, which consisted mostly of keeping the Captain and First Officer company, and making coffee in free fall—not the easiest job Kevin had ever done.
The last phase of the voyage was to be an acceleration lasting nearly three hours. Wayfarer was in a long elliptical orbit that crossed that of Ceres; in order to land on the asteroid it would be necessary to both change the ship's direction and to catch up with the tiny planet. The process began hours before the burn, with Wayfarer's electronic gear getting a precise position and velocity fix. The ship had to be located precisely with relation to Ceres.
Captain Greiner programmed the radar antenna to seek out the beacon signal from Ceres. "Here goes," he said. He pressed the keys to initiate the position fix, then reached for a squeeze-bottle of hot coffee. He squirted coffee into his mouth, swallowed, and looked back at the control board. Then he frowned. "What the devil?"
"Sir?" First Officer Leslie Seymour floated over to the Captain's station.
"I'm not getting anything," Greiner said. "Nothing at all."
"That's odd," Seymour said. "It's as if the antenna wasn't working. Maybe I'd better have a look—"
"Maybe you had, Mister."
Seymour was already wearing his pressure suit. He reached for his helmet.
"SHUTDOWN. WARNING. COMPUTER SHUTDOWN," the computer announced.
"The hell you say!" Greiner muttered. He turned to the ship's computer and examined displays. "Damn! Leslie, it says it has a power interrupt!"
"Jeez. Antenna not working and now the computer's going out—"
"Check out the antenna," Greiner ordered. He lifted his intercom microphone. "Chief Engineer! Mister Carnel, get up here on the double. Something's happened to the computer. Leslie, on your way, now."
"Yes, sir," Seymour left the bridge, headed for the main airlock.
"What's happening, Captain?" Kevin asked. "Is there something wrong with the computer?"
"Damned wrong," Greiner said. "And we can't possibly make rendezvous with Ceres without it—there you are, Felipe. Look at this thing!"
Felipe Carnel looked at the shutdown message, then opened a panel and stared at dials. "It says that regulated power's been cut off, Skipper," he said.
"Regulated power? Where the hell's that power supply?"
"Back aft," Carnel said. "It's never given any trouble before."
"Better go have a look," Greiner said.
"Rojj." Carnel turned to leave the bridge.
"And have a look at the
seals on the cargo hold," Greiner said thoughtfully.
The engineer looked back quickly. There was astonishment and worry in his voice. "Sir, you don't think—"
"Mister, I don't know what to think. Just check things out."
"Aye aye, sir." Carnel left hurriedly.
"Sir?" Kevin asked. "I thought we got power from the reactor."
"We do," Greiner said. "And there's no problem with the main power system. You can see that—the ventilation system's working, the lights are on. Nothing wrong there. But the brain here eats a very precise diet. It wants 400 cycle power, and that doesn't mean 399.9 either. If the brain's not getting what it wants, it shuts down to avoid damage to itself." Greiner frowned. "In fact, I wonder if it's not reporting antenna problems when all that's wrong is the power supply? We'll find out." Greiner didn't seem very worried.
It didn't seem serious, and Kevin went back to making more coffee. After all, they had ten hours before they started the engine. Besides—he could see Ceres in the ship's main telescope. He had watched it grow from a point to a recognizable object, no details but definitely a disc. They could aim for it and blast—
First Officer Seymour came back onto the bridge. "The antenna's gone, Skipper."
"Gone?"
"Clean gone. Like it was sawed off, or maybe blasted off with a couple of turns of prima-cord. Gone, anyway."
"Bat puckey. It can't be gone," Greiner said. "Blasted off? Sabotage?"
"Looks like it to me," Seymour said.
"Hmm. Well, we can still navigate with the telescope. If we get the computer running again," Greiner said. "But if—you really think it was sabotage, Leslie?"
"Yes, sir. What else could it be?" They waited in silence. Finally Kevin asked, "If the computer's really out, what happens?"
"We don't get to Ceres," Greiner said. His voice was grim.
"Three years to home," Seymour added. "If we're lucky we can cut some off that, but not a lot. Think this tub will keep us alive for three more years, Skipper?"
"It might. With a lot of work," Greiner said. He looked thoughtful. "Present orbit takes us out to better than three and a half AU before we head back toward Earth. Less than ten percent of the sunlight we get down near Earth. It'd be close for a while. Not much light for the ship's farm."
"But—I can see Ceres," Kevin protested.
Greiner laughed without humor. "Sure. But how much do I burn aimed in what direction? Kevin, we've got just enough fuel aboard to set us down on Ceres. Nothing to spare for mistakes. Without the ship's computer we could never do it—"
"Can we get back to Earth without the computer?" Kevin asked.
"No. But that's not the problem. It's only the power supply. If we have to we can build another. We can build another antenna, too—ah." He stopped as Felipe Carnel came back into the bridge compartment. "Well?" Greiner demanded impatiently.
"Cargo seals are all intact," Carnel said. "I put Phelps on watch down there, just in case—"
"Phelps alone?"
"No, I asked three passengers, random selection, to stand watch with him."
"Good," Greiner said. "And the power system?"
"Blown to hell," Carnel said. "Somebody put about fifty grams of plastique into the system. Messed it up good."
"And the spare is gone," Greiner said quietly.
"Might as well be. Been taken apart into little bits."
"How long to rebuild?" Greiner demanded. His tone indicated that he already knew the answer.
"Days," Carnel said. "Three or four days anyway."
"By which time we'll be long past Ceres and headed out to nowhere," Greiner said. "Interesting. Someone put a lot of thought into this. He's sabotaged the exact two systems to keep us from landing on Ceres without actually crippling the ship." Greiner's calm broke at last. "That son of a bitch! He's done it! I can't put the cargo on Ceres—" he shouted.
"And there may never be another ship out here again," Felipe Carnel finished for him. "Somebody's just damned near killed the whole asteroid mining business."
Chapter Ten
"There must be something we can do." First Officer Seymour pounded his fist into his palm. "Raise Earth and have them run off the problem in Zurich—"
"Without the high-gain antenna?" Felipe Carnel laughed. "We can't raise Earth without that antenna."
"Ceres, then," Seymour said. "They've got a big computer—"
"And no programs," Captain Greiner said. "And once again, without the antenna, we can't rely on communications with them. We'll try, but I've no confidence." Greiner looked at the last print-outs from the ship's computer. Wayfarer's last known position was one hundred thousand kilometers from Ceres. The ship's orbit crossed that of the asteroid at a sharp angle; Wayfarer would have to change direction, then catch up; in practice that meant a smooth curve stretching from Wayfarer's present course to the asteroid's orbit, with a slight change of orbit plane as well—and Ceres moves at eighteen kilometers each second.
The problem was not merely to get to Ceres, but to arrive with exactly the same velocity as the asteroid, and going in exactly the same direction. The navigation would be only slightly less complicated than hitting a BB in flight with another BB fired by a gunner who had bad eyesight. An error of a tenth of a kilometer per second would put the ship impossibly far away from its target.
"Leslie, try raising Ceres," Captain Greiner said. "Let's see if they have advice."
First Officer Seymour floated to the communications set and anchored himself to the stool. He lifted the microphone and began calling.
"What I want to know is who," Greiner said. "Damned clever chap, whoever it was. This was well planned. We keep our fuel, drift on in our ellipse, and eventually return to Earth. Stops us without committing suicide."
"But why?" Kevin asked.
Greiner shook his head. "Who'd benefit from this? Too many to count. The African mining outfits don't want competition from asteroid mines. Anti-technology people want to stop space exploration altogether—"
"Lunar mining outfits," Felipe Carnel cut in. "Or even the O'Neill colony people—they've been making noises about what a waste Belt operations are—"
"Skipper, I've got them, but they can't understand me," Leslie Seymour said. "OUR COMPUTER IS OUT," he shouted, then looked sheepish. "They just don't read us."
"Maybe when we get closer—" Kevin said.
"By then it will be too late," Greiner said. He stared at Kevin. "You look like a man with an idea. Have you thought of something?"
"Possibly, Captain, I know somebody who can compute the burn for us."
"Who? And how—"
"My cabinmate, Jacob Norsedal."
"Norsedal," Greiner said. "He's been up here a number of times. Very interested in our ship's brain. Yes, I'd say he knows computers, but this isn't a computer problem, Kevin. We cannot rebuild that power supply in the few hours we have left, and we don't need a program, we need a computer—"
"Yes, sir, but he's got his own," Kevin said.
"I've seen it," Greiner said "Kevin, he can't possibly do this calculation with that little belt model he carries—"
"I wouldn't bet on that," Kevin said. "But he doesn't have to. He's got a much bigger one in our cabin. Uses it for war-games. Recreation stuff. And he's been keeping track of Wayfarer. He calculated the midcourse correction you made, and said something about it being off, but not much—"
Grenier looked thoughtful. "Felipe, go ask Mr. Norsedal to come to the bridge. And ask him to bring that extra brain with him."
"Right," Carnel said.
"And you needn't tell the passengers about our problem," Greiner added. He waited until the engineer had left the control cabin. "Now. Kevin, how sure are you that Mr. Norsedal isn't the one who bollixed our system to begin with? I wonder who else could have thought of this method?"
"You'd think that was funny if you knew Jacob," Kevin said. "He's a space fanatic. Also a computer fanatic—he likes them more than he likes people. He'd ne
ver harm one."
"I point out to you that this one hasn't been harmed," Greiner said. "And I grant you it's not likely, but it's certainly possible that someone who seems to be a space fanatic could be one of the anti-technology people. They do study technological systems, you know."
"Possibly, but Jacob isn't against technology," Kevin insisted.
"I hope you're right."
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