by John Stith
He turned back to the first window just in time to see night fall on Daedalus, at least on the inside. The mirrors were angling back toward the surface, and moments later they slowed gradually until they just melted into Daedalus’s hull.
“So Icarus gets to stay up later,” he said. Icarus still had its mirrors extended. Vincent’s screen said he had less than an hour to go. Would he reach Tinsdale Park on time?
“Icarus stays lit until midnight,” Vincent said. “Crops don’t have quite the same requirements.”
“So now what?”
“We should be leaving any time now.” Almost as Vincent quit speaking, there was a muted thud against the top of the shuttle. “We’re almost set. When we’re aimed exactly right, Daedalus will let go.”
Abruptly gravity vanished. At the same moment, Daedalus started to move above and behind Cal’s field of view. Icarus, Vittoria, and the Earth stopped in their apparent journey around Daedalus, and hung where they had been at release. Cal experienced a moment of dizziness, but it soon passed.
“How long does this take?” he asked, watching Vittoria grow slowly larger ahead.
“About ten minutes. Let’s just hope we’re exactly on track, so Vittoria’s magnet can catch us.”
“Are there many misses?” Cal wondered if he should have asked more questions before coming this far.
“Never has been one, but nobody’s perfect. My brother Harold on the other end is pretty sharp, though.”
“Your brother?”
“Figure of speech. The computer controlling the receiver.”
As they moved still closer to Vittoria, a soft, deep grinding noise began, and the capsule began to rotate slowly about its direction of travel.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Just routine. The shuttle can be caught in any orientation, but if it doesn’t rotate, you’ll be hanging by your belt when we stop. I can’t imagine that would be real pleasant.”
“I’m not complaining.”
Vittoria grew in size, now appearing in the upper corner of the opposite window. What was there about Vittoria that disturbed him so? An overhead thunk sounded against the hull, and gravity pushed Cal back into his chair. A second distant noise apparently signaled that mechanical attachment to Vittoriawas complete.
A near reversal of the procedure on Daedalus brought him to a low-gee passage into Vittoria.
Vittoria was as brightly lit as Daedalus had been, but the light came from a different source, a brilliantly lit tube along the rotation axis.
Being inside gave an impression more like clinging to the inside of a large ball than a cylinder. The scale was smaller than on Daedalus. Cal could make out large structures on the far side of Vittoria. On Daedalus, he had seen nothing more than blurred smears of colors.
The transportation system was also modest in comparison. Above-ground rail cars moved from one end of the zero-gee axis to the other.
Vincent told Cal which track would take him closest to Tinsdale Park, and Cal boarded a car after a short walk. The slow-moving car looked as if it could easily be converted from passenger use to freight by detaching the open-air rows of seats.
It was minutes after the possible appointment time when Cal stepped off the vehicle and surveyed the park, which wound its way between irregular peninsulas of single-story town houses.
He wasn’t alone in the park. Several other people relaxed on benches or rested in the grass, and he could see more in the distance. Was Angel here? Maybe he or she had left when Cal hadn’t been there on time? For all he knew, this wasn’t even the right day. He could have met Angel here yesterday.
“I don’t see anyone coming over to greet me,” he said, starting to walk with forced indifference through the grass.
“Maybe you don’t look friendly,” suggested Vincent.
“Maybe.” Cal stopped. “This park goes around the whole circumference of Vittoria?”
“No. It looks like it, but every half-kilometer or so the name changes. Ahead is Tandem Park. It’s a bit more comforting to people to meet at a place with a name than at sector five, quadrant sixty-two and all that ap-cray.”
“Are computers always right, Vincent?”
“Invariably. After a long study, one of my ancestors concluded that ashtrays cause cancer.”
Cal continued walking, still disconcerted at the even more pronounced curvature of the land as it rose gradually around him in all directions. No one he passed looked familiar. He didn’t glance back to see if anyone was observing him. If only he had a tiny bit of data about Angel. Height, hair color, sex, age—anything to narrow the field.
The equation had too many unknowns. Ahead he could see a sign identifying the park boundary, and still no one had approached him. He turned to retrace his steps, but then stopped. A medium-sized elm tree he had noticed earlier, now seemed distinctly familiar. He had definitely been here before.
Cal looked at it a moment longer, and said, “You ready for another short trip, Vincent?”
“You promise not to bang me into anything?”
“I think I can manage not to.”
“Okeydokey. Where to?”
“My office here.”
The building looked much like the one on Daedalus except there was no lawn in front, and this one seemed much busier. This lobby was occupied.
The receptionist said nothing, merely nodding as the door slid open. At least he belonged here. Cal thanked him and moved into the corridor beyond, conscious of an increased noise level from fragments of conversations in the row of offices.
Cal tried to walk quickly, so he could find his office without exposing his condition. His luck didn’t improve.
“Hey, Cal,” called a voice from a doorway he passed.
Cal was already past the opening, so he could at least read the occupant’s name tag without being conspicuous. Leroy Krantz, Communications Concepts.
“What can I do for you, Leroy?” Cal asked, facing a man he had no recollection of. For a moment, he wondered if “Mr. Krantz” was what he usually called the man. Leroy was maybe fifteen or twenty years older than Cal and had closely cropped gray hair. His eyebrows were so much darker than the rest of his hair, they almost looked dyed.
“We were supposed to meet this morning,” Leroy said. After Cal remained silent, Leroy added, “To go over the final comm control interface test.”
“Some, ah—problems on the home front came up. Can we reschedule it?” Maybe by then he would have more of an idea of what the other man was talking about. This must be the one remaining test from his note to Horvath.
“Tomorrow morning?” Leroy said.
The feeling lasted only an instant, but Cal was sure the other looked relieved. But why? “Tomorrow afternoon?” he offered. So soon.
“Review the results at thirteen hundred, here?”
Review the test results? He wouldn’t be able to make much sense of a few printouts. Maybe if he could get some visual cues, he would stand a better chance. “What about running through part of the test itself?” Cal asked.
“What? Oh, sure, sure. Whatever you want.”
“See you then.” Cal turned to leave.
“You okay?” Leroy asked.
“Fine. Why?”
“Nothing special. You just seem upset lately. You want to go out for a drink? Talk it over?”
Cal hesitated, wondering if he would learn more from Leroy if he opened up, or if he should keep to his plan and go to his office. Was Leroy honestly trying to help, or did he know more than he pretended and was just playing with Cal? Cal wavered for a moment, until the barest degree of unease seeped into him. “No,” he said. “But thanks anyway.”
“Maybe some other time.” Leroy smiled as Cal turned again to go. Was he smiling at Cal, or simply being friendly?
No one else called to Cal before he reached his office. The room was much like the one on Daedalus except for the view and a weak impression that many of the office furnishings were on wheels, re
ady to be removed when Vittoria was about to leave.
The desk itself, with the computer, could have been the same one as in his Daedalus office. Even the data stored in it was apparently identical. This time, however, inspired by Leroy, Cal called up his appointment log.
There it was: Leroy K, 09:00, today. Purpose: final acceptance test on control system interfaces to the communications system. Surely that wouldn’t just involve Cal and Leroy. But apparently it did.
No other appointments existed in the log, so there were no clues from that source. Cal got up and shut the door.
“Vincent, what do you know about Leroy?”
“He has an office near yours, he knows you, and he doesn’t miss appointments.”
“In other words, all you know is what we both just observed?”
“You right again, Lone Ranger.”
“I’ve got the law on my side.”
“Say again?”
“The law of averages. After the early part of today, it’s only natural that I get a few things right.” Cal sat up straight in his chair. “I’m not making enough progress here. Are there any other places I frequently go?”
“The command center. Where the bus driver is going to sit.”
“Where is it?”
“Ten minutes from here. It’s at the same latitude as this office.”
The command center was even busier than his office area had been. After passing another receptionist, he wandered in the interior corridors for a few minutes until finally he saw a sign saying Observation Area. Successive arrows led to a dimly lit room with one glass wall. Beyond the window, the scene below looked like a mission operations amphitheater he had once seen on Earth.
Three curved tiers of glass-enclosed cubicles contained the operations staff. Before them, on the opposite wall, was an enormous multisectioned display. One quarter of it currently showed a portion of the sky, with an image-enhanced magnification of Barnard’s Star and the surrounding area. The stars forming Ophiuchus were out of the field of view.
Text displays with interspersed graphs apparently summarized power levels, navigation status, and subsystem conditions. At the upper right, large orange letters said NOMINAL: 4D 9H 14M 47S. The seconds counted down. Cal’s sense of urgency strengthened.
From his job description in the computer, he knew he had a hand in the foundation of all this: the computer control system responsible for linking all the subsystems together.
In the most recent hours, his memory had been recalcitrant, offering little in the way of new insights. Maybe he had been hurrying so much that his subconscious refused to link to his conscious mind, or maybe being at the command center gave him enough new visual triggers to start his mind working harder again. Whatever the cause, he found that he was aware of more than a fresh visitor would be.
The time at the upper right of the screen was the remaining time until Vittoria departed. Less than five days. He hadn’t realized before that the time was so short. He felt uneasy about Vittoria leaving.
He scanned the windows opposite the wall screen. Even without the glowing letters, he knew that the center office on the second tier belonged to Russ Tolbor. Cal could detect no motion within the cubicle, but it was too dark to see if Tolbor was there, motionless, silently watching the screen, or—or watching Cal.
That’s absurd, Cal told himself. Paranoia was overpowering. Everyone he saw seemed to bother him.
As Cal stood, wondering what to do next, the contents of the screen disappeared, and a hologram larger than any he could remember materialized. It was the Vittoria, apparently color-coded to indicate how close she was to being ready for the journey. Almost the entire surface was green. Here and there, a few flakes showed yellow. A tiny handful of red regions blinked slowly. Vittoria was close.
Cal looked back at the center office. “What can you tell me about Russ Tolbor, Vincent?”
“Other than what was on this morning’s newscast?”
“Yes.”
“He volunteered for the job and met almost no opposition. He’s in the Daedalus Who’s Who. Forty-one, never been married. He’s been responsible for charitable programs, mostly connected with the church he favors, Presodists, but he’s also been involved with efforts to break down denominational barriers. His previous command experience includes a couple of Jupiter missions. His original technical field was the same as yours—computers—and he was responsible for several innovations before he moved into management.”
Cal stared at the hologram. Memories stirred and shifted. Instead of feeling at a total loss, as he had when he woke up, he was beginning to feel more like the information was almost within reach, if he only knew where to look. But the almost-at-the-tip feeling was just as frustrating.
“I don’t suppose you ever get tired, do you, Vincent?”
“Bored maybe. My first owner only wanted me to balance his financial log. But not tired.”
“That’s the truth?”
“No. You bought me new. But that’s dull.”
“Well, I’m getting tired, but certainly not bored. I wonder what Nikki’s doing right now.”
Cal left the observation booth and walked slowly through the corridors toward the exit. He was within sight of it when a side door opened, and he came face to face with Russ Tolbor.
“I thought you’d be here earlier,” Russ said. “We’ve finished most of the final checks.” He looked expectantly at Cal. In person, the commander looked darker, healthier than he had on screen. The several centimeters of height advantage he had on Cal made his oncoming baldness less noticeable than in the hologram and made his neatly trimmed beard more prominent. If the silver and gold finish on the man’s compband was any indication, he wore a wristcomp like Vincent.
“I ran into some problems early in the day,” Cal said. “I’m still trying to get caught up.”
“Nothing you can’t handle, though, right?”
“Right.” Cal held back, again experiencing the same uneasiness that he had felt during the day’s previous conversations. “You’re really looking forward to leaving all this?”
“Yes. God makes demands of us all, and we need to accept them in good grace. I’m actually looking forward to this. Life’s too complex on Daedalus.”
“God told you to go?”
Tolbor laughed. “No. It’s not like that. I’m surprised at you, Cal. God doesn’t move so directly. But in the course of my life, I’ve felt the nudges in the proper direction at a few important intersections.”
“Does that mean you were picked for the job because of your religious beliefs?”
“Hardly. Despite them is more like it. Religious freedom isn’t entirely dead, though. But you don’t look too well today. You’ve been pushing yourself pretty hard lately. Watch out for too much stress,” Russ said. The intensity apparent during the interview was still in his eyes. “You take care of yourself.”
“I’ll do my best.” Cal turned to leave.
It wasn’t until he entered the lobby that he realized that his breath came more heavily than normal, and he felt a slight chill. But was it because of the commander? Maybe Cal became nervous whenever he was in the presence of people in power. He had no way to tell for sure, but it seemed unlikely.
Could “Angel” be Russ? There was no guarantee that a password-protected ID couldn’t refer to someone Cal knew in public, someone with whom he had a different relationship in private.
But that could also be true of anyone on his list. Who else was a candidate? He could start down the list, talking to each person, working the word “angel” into the conversations. No.
He left the command building, aware again of fatigue. His eyes were dry, and his slight limp had returned. Maybe he should go home. Surely Nikki would be back by now. A talk with her and some rest might help.
Cal boarded an unoccupied rail car and started up the hill toward the low-gravity exit. He shut his eyes for a moment. “Vincent,” he said. “Is it possible for you to monitor the newscast
s and tell me if anything about Gabriel Domingo comes on?”
“Easy. But you’re late. There’s already been more. I’ve been listening.”
Cal’s eyes were open again. “So tell me. And keep me up to date if you hear any more.”
“Your whim is my command. Just over a half hour ago, the news said that the police search of Domingo’s apartment turned up some interesting information. Domingo apparently had met several times with someone, maybe a doctor, at the Taber Clinic.”
“Taber Clinic. That sounds familiar.”
“I’m not wildly surprised. It’s where Nikki works.”
CHAPTER 6
Hospital
“What else did the newscast say?” Cal asked. “That Domingo might have been selling drugs to a doctor who marks them up and resells them?”
“Near enough,” said Vincent. “And they found more capsules of Vital Twenty-Two in his apartment.”
The Vittoria rail car continued up the rise toward the exit.
“So there’s a link between Domingo and the clinic where Nikki works. That doesn’t mean there’s a connection between Domingo and Nikki.”
“Not necessarily anyway,” said Vincent. “You sound defensive.”
Cal paused. “Maybe I am. Wouldn’t you be—in my place? Half of my memories snuck away in the night, and I may have killed Domingo. Obviously I haven’t maintained a terrific relationship with my wife, and maybe she could be tied into this mess also. For all I know, she’s got more than a doctor-deceased relationship with Domingo. Her specialty is transplants.”
“But you don’t really think that she has done anything illegal?”
The rail car reached the top of the hill.
“No, I guess not,” Cal said finally. “But I don’t like to take a chance on being wrong.”
Quiet and thoughtful, Cal returned to Daedalus. He wondered why Nikki wanted him in the clinic. So she could keep track of him, or simply because she was worried about his health? Or sanity? He wanted to believe the innocent answer.