He turned back to them with imploring eyes.
" 'For I alone have lived to tell thee this tale.' Please, for God sake, take me away from here."
Elijah looked at Ian slyly and reached into his pocket.
"In payment Ian, in payment I'll give you this and yet another legend to pursue. But it's our secret." And so saying, he gave a paranoid look at Richard. "Only one, there's only one and I can't share."
Ian hesitated for a moment, fearful of some horror, but Richard came up to lan's side and whispered.
"It's all right, it means he trusts you, if it's a piece of meat just pocket it, thank him, and leave. It's a bonding gift."
Richard smiled at Ian, nodded at Elijah, and floated out of the room, leaving the two of them alone. Ian smiled uncomfortably at Elijah and cleared his throat. If this is a piece of meat, Ian thought, I'll get sick, I know it, and he braced himself.
Elijah drew out his hand and opened it. A slender metal rod six inches long and the diameter of a straw floated up. A small blue button jutted from one end. The strange shimmer to the metal caught lan's eye and he drew closer. It could have been a swizzle stick from Richard's drinking kit.
"What the hell?..."
"It scared the hell out of me," Elijah said softly.
"What?"
"The thing that owned that rod."
"What thing?" Ian suddenly noticed his heart was racing.
"The thing."
Ian gulped. "Do you mean an alien?"
He snatched the rod out of the air and nervously examined it. It was cool to the touch and a minuscule flowing script curled around the length of the shaft. He had never seen such writing before and with that realization his hands started to shake.
"How did you get this?"
"Promise you won't tell, the others might get mad at me, 'cause I didn't save any. You're the leader so I have to tell you but not the others." There was a pleading whine to his voice.
Ian nodded in agreement, not really paying attention to the words, as if he was listening to the fearful chatter of a little child.
"All right then." Elijah drew closer.
"It knocked on my door, it did. Honest, I heard a knock on the airlock. I looked out the window and there it was, a ship docked to mine. So I popped the door and, sweet holy of holies." His voice rose to a near shriek and Ian had to reach out to calm him down.
"What was it like?" Ian begged.
Elijah looked at him and smiled.
"Lucky I had some garlic and artificial butter," he whispered.
"Oh, no. You didn't..."
"He sure did look like a giant snail to me. Tell me, Ian, have you ever had a hundred-kilo escargot?"
"By heavens, Ian, he's sick."
Ian looked across at Ellen and nodded in affirmation. "But that's not the question we're dealing with, Ellen."
"I don't give a good god damn what you think we're dealing with, I think we should put him under sedation, turn about, and head for home. And another thing, we should let the Exploration Board come back out here and figure out what the hell is going on with this Father, or whatever it is those people over there are worshiping." Ellen waved her hand off in the direction of Delta Sag.
"First off, I'm not going to sedate Elijah as long as his behavior is reasonable."
"Reasonable, my ass, that madman came up to me and asked if we had any fresh meat. He even pinched my leg. Good Lord, Ian, he gives me the creeps."
"Reasonable, my ass," Richard whispered sotto voce to Stasz. "I'd like to see him take a bite out of her buns, she might enjoy it."
"Shut up, pig! Remember I saved your butt from the IFF."
"And I remember in some detail what yours looked like. Stasz, you should have seen it, a little heavy perhaps, but still worth a—"
."Shut up, all of you," Ian shouted. "We've got to make a decision, damn it!"
"Look, Ian," Ellen interjected, "this was originally conceived of as a way for the Chancellor to get rid of some nonconformist or incompetent faculty members."
"Yes indeed," Richard interrupted. "But do speak for yourself, Ellen dearest, when deciding which of the two."
"Give her a chance, will you?" Ian replied, amazed at himself for defending Ellen against Richard's barbs.
Choosing to ignore his comments, she continued.
"I was also going to say that this is an academic mission. We were to establish contact if possible with one or more colonies and find out what happened. Look, Ian, we can't even gather any more data. Our memory banks are crammed to capacity, to enter even one more item requires us to dump something else. There's enough data in there to keep our respective professions busy for the next century. Ian, we can go back home, we can go back as heroes, and screw the Chancellor."
Ian shot Richard a glance to suppress the obvious retort.
"I know you want to get back home, too," Ian said, looking at Richard.
Richard merely shook his head and smiled. "I want to see how this argument turns out."
"And you, Stasz?"
"They've got beam weapons—look what they did to that out there." He pointed at the wreckage that drifted just outside their forward viewport.
"So that means you'd prefer to turn back?"
"Look, Ian, it's been run. I've racked up six months of translight time. By the time we get back, I figure I can take standard retirement plus ten percent. Do you think I want to blow my retirement checks just to go visit the followers of a crazy man dead for the last thousand years?"
"But your curiosity is there, isn't it?"
Stasz shifted uncomfortably, so that he floated out of his couch. "Don't ruin the image of indifference that I've tried to cultivate."
"And, Richard, what do you have to say?" Ian asked, turning away from Stasz.
"The arguments for turning back are obvious. Smith's people are armed and have twice proven their madness. Confrontation with them is something I think is totally beyond our capacity. We already have a valuable cargo of data, which I think should take precedence at this stage of the mission."
Ellen gave an audible sigh of relief.
"But..." It was Richard who was prompting.
"Yes, the but," Ian replied. "There're two buts here. We can go back home and turn over this investigation to the bureaucracy. I want you to think about that. Think about our beloved Chancellor. For that matter, think about most any bureaucrat you've ever known. When presented with a problem like this, what will they do? For that matter, what does any bureaucrat excel at?"
"They'll screw it up," Stasz replied.
"That's my point," Ian said softly. "Out toward Delta Sag there is one hell of a mystery, and I fear what someone like the Chancellor and his kind would do to that situation. I'd rather have a group of half-assed intellectuals like ourselves in the driver's seat. And this might sound strange coming from old Ian Lacklin, but damn me, I'm just plain curious. This journey has scared me from day one. It's still scaring me, but I guess I'm getting used to it. We've come this far, I think it's worth the risk to take the final step. The historian in me is dying to know just what really happened to Franklin Smith's people."
"Let's hope you don't die finding out," Stasz replied.
The others fell silent; Ian nodded to each and floated out of the room to his small retreat in the aft storage area. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the rod that Elijah had given him. He couldn't tell any of them the real reason that he wanted the expedition to continue, at least not yet.
Even more than finding out about Smith, he now wanted to find out about the alien who came for dinner. If one alien was in the area, there might be another. Ian only hoped that he found them before Smith did. Elijah had been unable to enter the alien's ship, which apparently disappeared while its pilot was becoming dinner for one. Ian thought it might have been launched by a dead-man switch hidden in the alien's equipment or by a timing circuit in the autopilot. The only thing to survive their first encounter was the small cylinder Elijah said had
been carried in a metal holster on the alien's carapace. Ian didn't want to consider the possible consequences of Smith's people having the first contact with another civilization. First contact, that is, if one didn't consider Elijah. But how would Smith react to the visitors from Earth? ... Ian again examined the strange artifact in his hand. It did look somewhat like a swizzle stick with a blue button on top, but he had yet to work up the nerve to press down on that button. Considering where they would be in a matter of hours, he suddenly realized that the only evidence of intelligent nonhuman civilization should be safely stored away. And he knew the perfect place. While the arguments continued up forward, he poked around in Richard's affects and placed the object in his comrade's portable drinking kit. The artifact fitted in like it had been made to match.
"Ready for translight," Stasz called.
"'And who will turn back from the greatest hunt of all,'" Elijah shouted as the faint tremor of the overdrive system began.
Ian opened his eyes for a moment to look forward. Delta Sag was straight ahead, its Doppler shift already noticeable. Soon the jump would kick in completely and radical distort would slide its light through the visible spectrum. The jump would be a short one, then their destination would no longer be a mere pinpoint of light, a distant star. For the first time in over half a year, their cabin would again be flooded with the light of a sun.
The jump shifted up with Stasz's shouted reminder of the chance of breakup. Ian leaned forward, his stomach rebelling in protest.
Chapter 11
Automated Archival Unit 2
First Completion Date: 2087
Primary Function: Archival. A farsighted effort instituted by the United Nations Historical Preservation Organization. Having evaluated the prospects for war, a multinational team set out to provide as complete a record as possible of the history of mankind on Earth. Replicas of all major works of art were produced, all major libraries were copied. The data was placed aboard four units, two of which were successfully launched from Earth orbit only days before the first nuclear exchange of the Holocaust War.
Evacuation Date: August 1, 2087.
Overall Design: O'Neill Cylinder, 400 meters by 100 meters. Minimal life-support systems. Design was to be largely self-sustaining and self-navigating.
Propulsion: Plasma Drive.
Course: SETI Anomaly One. Political/Social Orientation: None.
"We've locked onto that signal, Ian. It's just come out of occultation by a gas giant, four A.U. ahead. There's strong background interference from a number of radio sources closer in to Delta."
"Shelley, which unit is the beacon from?"
"Ian, it's Archival 2!" The tone of her voice caused the others to turn and look in her direction. Ian was already pushing forward to peer over her shoulder at the display screen.
"The jackpot!"
Ian and Shelley started to hug each other, and in her enthusiasm Shelley planted a long kiss on Ian that had the others clapping and cheering.
"All right, all right," Richard said, his curiosity no longer capable of being contained, "what's Archival 2? Is it Smith's unit?"
"No, it's just the mother lode of a historical dream. It's the archive ship, launched just before the war. It contains everything, Richard. Everything you could imagine. The only complete record of everything from before the war. Good lord, Beaulieu will kiss my feet just for the chance to look at it, just to touch it for one minute. We'll be blowing our noses on honorary doctorates for this!" Ian floated out of the room weeping with joy.
"I guess that means we go to Archival 2," Stasz said quietly with an attempt at understatement.
"Stasz, you said you were picking up a lot of background interference. What is it?"
"Oh, only a broad spectrum of interference from a large number of radio frequencies—what you'd pick up in near-Earth space. You know, a first-class civilization, billion-plus-people level of communication..." His voice trailed off.
"I think we better tell Ian," Ellen replied, her anxiety now obvious.
"You'll get an argument over it," Stasz responded. "That mad historian wants his archival unit first."
"Where are the signals centered?" Richard asked.
"In toward Delta Sag. Initial printout indicates a small planetary body; it all seems to be coming primarily from that one source."
"Anything from the region of Archival 2?"
"Nothing."
"Fine then," Richard replied. "Originally we had planned to stay out here and monitor them for several weeks before we made the move. But let's get into Archival 2 instead. He'll see the wealth of information there, the historian in him will want to preserve it at all costs, and, I daresay, we'll be hauling back to Earth with the news within a day—this Franklin Smith adventure forgotten. So, let's go on in."
Stasz gave a grunt of assertion, and even Shelley seemed satisfied with Richard's conclusion.
Elijah sat in the back of the cabin, silent, staring at the ball of light whose heavily filtered globe now filled the monitor.
"Hard dock."
Ian was out of his seat and pushing off for the airlock, calling for the others to follow.
Within minutes he was suited up and urging on Shelley and Ellen, acting like a little boy whose parents refuse to get out of bed on Christmas morning.
Stasz came back to join them, and from a small attache case he produced three stun pistols.
"Ian, you better take these along, just in case."
"Stasz, there hasn't been anyone aboard that vessel since it launched a thousand years ago."
"Bull. This thing's in orbit when it should be heading for the galactic core, that beacon is in perfect working order, and we've picked up strong transmissions from only ten A.U. away. They've been here, Ian, they might be in there now."
"Well, if that's the case, I guess we'll just have to talk it out when we meet them."
"They didn't talk it out when I met them," Elijah said.
Ian looked around at the rest of the crew.
"Look, I know you're not too thrilled about this. I'm just going in to confirm what's in there. If it really is Archival 2, I think that information takes higher precedence over anything else. We'll see what we can take back with us, then we get the hell out of here. Does that satisfy everybody?"
The rest were silent.
"Give me the damn guns and let's get going."
And then he thought again of Smith. "I'll be with you in a moment, I forgot something."
"Come on, Ian," Shelley called, "this isn't the time to go to the bathroom."
But he was already out of the chamber. Several minutes later he reappeared, and without another word he motioned them into the airlock.
If Smith did board them, Ian hoped he had now provided the insurance policy. He had pushed five of the six activation switches on the thermomine. If they were threatened with boarding, simply pushing down on the sixth and pulling it back up would finish the job.
The inner airlock to the unit opened effortlessly, and Ian, followed by Ellen, Shelley, and Richard, floated into an open expanse of corridor.
"Oxygen check looks good, Ian," Shelley reported. "No toxicity readings."
With a sigh of relief he pulled off his helmet. He had always hated the claustrophobic things anyhow.
"Look, Ian, that plaque."
He pushed off gently and came up against a plaque of gold set into the far wall; reaching out with his suction holders, he clamped onto the wall like a spider.
He started to tremble as he read the first line in Old English.
Automated Archival Unit 2
Launch Date 2087
"So that only the best of our world
May be remembered."
The same phrase was repeated in half a dozen other languages, beneath that was a small directory and map giving directions to the vast interior storage areas.
"This is it, Shelley, this is it!"
"It looks like the catalog directory is o
ver this way," Ellen called, her apprehensions momentarily forgotten in the enthusiasm for what they had found.
The other three followed her as she floated along the docking corridor and stepped into a slowly rotating stairwell that led down to the rotating mass of the cylinder.
At first they simply let themselves drop down the shaft, but with the gradual increase in acceleration, they soon grabbed hold of the handrailings to break what could have developed into a disastrous fall.
Another gold plaque pointed them into a dimly lit corridor that was lined with racks of filing cards.
"Now that's curious," Ellen whispered. "It's the pre-computer method of filing data. I remember reading about it. Seems awfully cumbersome."
"Logical though," Ian replied. "They must have a computer master, but this was included in case of a total power failure. Look over there."
He pointed to a brightly painted circle where several dozen large books were laid out side by side.
Ian approached the books and stared at them with eager anticipation, the way some people approach a gourmet meal or the first night with a new lover.
"Ian, come over here and look at this," Shelley cried. "Good Lord, just look at what they have!"
Shelley was waving a small filing card over her head, which she had, in her enthusiasm, plucked out of one of the filing cabinets.
Ian came over to her side and examined her find. "I remember you talking about the old Apollo missions," she shouted, "so I saw this cabinet with Ap-As listed on it. Here's a card that lists an Apollo 8. Level Three, Room 224, File 203-090-112-130. Ian, they don't have one Apollo card in there, they have half a hundred!"
The four of them looked at each other and within seconds they were all busy digging into the files, each one looking for his or her favorite topic, exploring the answer to a question from the world of the past that had forever puzzled them.
Ian was overwhelmed. He thought the discovery of the library aboard the longevity unit had been the find of lifetime, but this was simply beyond his comprehension. In simple awe of it all, he started to weep. He had found the Valhalla of historians at last!
Into the Sea of Stars Page 15