by Victor Koman
Delia looked at Virgil to see the slightest of smiles on his lips. “I don’t see any reason not to.” He rose calmly and wiped the sweat from his forehead, stepped up to her and walked beside her to the spacecraft. “Excellent weather for flying,” he added in a gratingly conversational manner.
“We’re going to have to work on this desire of yours to get on other people’s nerves.”
Circus Galacticus orbited the Earth in a low-eccentricity equatorial orbit at one thousand kilometers altitude. The Brennen Trust shuttle rocketed toward it.
Over the speaker system, the pilot’s voice spoke calmly, “Circus Galacticus will cross the horizon in one minute.”
Virgil sat next to the one small window facing the bow of the shuttle. He did not bother to look out.
“Thirty seconds.”
Delia twisted about, trying to see past him.
“Ten seconds.”
Virgil closed his eyes for a second, then muttered a short curse. And looked through the port. His breath caught.
Though still hundreds of kilometers away, Circus Galacticus rose over the limb of Earth, a quite visible white slash in the blackness. Virgil squinted and tried to figure out how he sat in relation to it. The starship grew steadily. When it filled a degree of arc, Virgil noticed details and realized he was looking at the ship’s topside. At one end, the engine array lay edge-on. From its axis sprang Ring Three, looking like a white hockey puck with a wide support column stuck in its surface toward its rear perimeter. It bulged slightly in the middle, the preferred design for the tritium cryotanks. The superstructure on the support column appeared identical to the other two on the other rings. Only the rings themselves possessed individual characteristics.
Ring Two encircled a tangle of canisters, globes, tubes and cables. Complex fastening mechanisms held the units together, but it looked to Virgil that, if there were the slightest breeze in space, the entire collection would blow apart like a dandelion. He smiled warmly at the thought.
Ring One housed life support, astrogation, communications, repair machinery, two shuttlecraft, the main computer, space for a thousand frozen colonists-now empty-and a small weapons array equal in firepower to about half that of the former imperial Space Command.
Virgil watched as Circus Galacticus more than filled his viewing port. When the shuttle slowed to an imperceptible creep, all he could see was the prolate ellipsoid fastened to the prow of the ship on the forward tip of Ring One. The ellipsoid’s major axis lay on the same plane as that of the rings’ widths, and was over one hundred meters long, its minor axis about half that.
“What’s in there?” he asked. Small figures floated around the ellipsoid; occasionally the sapphire flash of a welding torch glowed between it and Ring One.
“New addition. It contains the Transfer equipment, peripheral terminals and storage banks for the Transfer computers; you’ll find out everything when we get to studying.” Delia answered calmly, but her left hand reached up to loosen the twist of hair around her neck. Virgil noticed the movement.
Master Snoop tightening up on you?
Eight weeks. Still they hammer away. If I float very still at night, I can hear them scratching at the hull. I won’t let them in. I’m safe. Master Snoop protects me from Nightsheet, but he’s a cruel master. My brain burns with thoughts. Ring One Level Four Section Eleven O’clock: exercise area. Ring Three Levels One through Seven Sections Five to Seven O’clock: Pumps for engine array. Ben speaks to me… Master’s son… Masterson Ben Snoop… Benjamin… been jamming this code for weeks, been-
“Tovar Trine is in Prow-Three-Center and will meet you in ten minutes in Con-One at Auxiliary Panel Alpha,” the ship’s computer said, turning on the lights in Virgil’s sleeping quarters. Its masculine voice was synthesized to be pleasant to the ear.
Virgil floated in the middle of the room, two meters away from any bulkhead. Usually, he awakened floating close enough to one of the padded walls that he could reach out and pull toward the door. Sometimes, though, he woke up unable to grasp anything.
Pulling up into a ball, he took a slow, easy breath and exhaled forcefully, his lips pursed tightly. He began rotating with annoying slowness, then he unfolded and stretched, causing him to twist crazily about a shifting axis. His foot touched a surface and he kicked. His head hit the opposite bulkhead and he rolled, grabbing for a Nomex-7 strap.
Delia stood waiting for him in Con-One, looking out of the wide viewing port at the Earth and space. She had raised all but the ultra-violet screen and stood before the vast sweep of stars, silently watching.
She stands like an angel of death, hands behind her, clasped firmly. She sees the Universe, knows my plans, will act to crush me the instant I let my guard down. Cracker of all codes, she’ll get to mine soon, and when she breaks my most sacred of secret ciphers she’ll know what I want.
“Virgil?” Delia turned around when she heard him choking. Slipping her feet out of the dock straps, she kicked across the room and used an arm to stop next to him.
“Nothing. Just swallowed wrong. I’m still not used to zero-g.” Took me out of my gauze chrysalis and made me fly, now you give me a mighty machine and make me be alone again. Death Angel you make me half-die inside. It hurts.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
Virgil nodded and bit the inside of his cheek. He breathed and nodded again. Stupid, Stupid. She hasn’t broken your code yet. You’ve got to get away from Master Snoop. Far away to think. Play along. “I’m straight. What’s on the agenda today?”
“Weapons simulations.”
“Why?”
“Why what? You’ve got to learn how to use them.”
“Against whom?”
“How should I know? This ship cost a kilomeg and a half. You think Brennen wants to lose that because of any ‘peaceful endeavors in space’ nonsense?” Delia tapped her nails against the brace she held on to. “If you encounter anything hostile, the ship will defend itself, with you there to interpret anything which the ship might not be able to.”
Why is the roar coming back?
Virgil watched the computer-guided lasers a half hour later as they locked in on and destroyed a dozen small asteroids captured from their near-Earth orbits. When the simulation ended, mining ships closed in on the shattered and molten rock, now congealed into spheres, and began processing the bounty.
Just like Wizard-every action serves at least two purposes. What are my purposes? The cipher is interstellar exploration- what’s the code? The roar. Get back. Is Wizard a free agent? Can anyone be a free agent? Or do we all serve? Nightsheet, Master Snoop, both? Why are things so hard to decode?
The start of a new day: Virgil awoke with a headache.
It’s stopped. They’ve gone away. He flailed around until he reached a bulkhead and pulled outside. While dressing, he listened carefully.
Gone. No scratching. They must have gotten bored. I’m safe even from the agents of-who? Maybe they were just recalled. Maybe they’re inside. May-
“Good morning, Virgil,” the computer said. “Automatic transfer sequence has been initiated. You have three hours and twenty-one minutes until initial transfer to Alpha Centauri A. Please proceed to Con-One at Prow-Three-Center.”
What? Virgil twisted around to the computer substation and faced the speaker grill. “What do-” He realized what day it was.
Through the roar. Last night. Delia. Yes, she said something. Today. Transfer at eight hundred Zulu. Damn damn damn damn. Lost in the roar. Get out. Get out of my head.
“Ben-what… Has Delia Trine left?”
“All support crew have departed Circus. Am notifying Launch Control that you are awake.”
This isn’t right. I’m not ready. I’ve forgotten. There’s so much to know. I can feel it in there squirming, but I can’t bring it up.
“Will you proceed to Prow-Three-Center?” The computer waited for a polite length of time, then repeated the question.
Virgil tugged at a
lock of his hair until it hurt.
“Yes. I’m going.” They’ll be watching me so closely for the next three hours, their fingers on an abort button. I’ve got to encode so deeply they don’t read a thing. Put a gauze around me until they can’t see me. Tight gauze. Suffocating until her knife slashes me free. Choking until…
“Are you in need of medical attention?”
Virgil gasped. “No. I’m on my way.”
He maneuvered through passageways designed for “down” being in the direction of the engines. The prow ellipsoid, however, was different. Designed after the discovery of the Valliardi Transfer, it had been built quickly and with little thought to engine use, since the wonder of Valliardi’s breakthrough was that as little energy was required to travel to the far end of the Universe as to travel to the other side of the Sun. If the engines had to be used for any great length of time to match velocities with various stars and planets, padded bulkheads could be removed and replaced with light deck plating. Virgil wondered who would do all that work.
The heavily shielded viewing port in front of Con-One showed a gibbous Earth. Sunlight approached Troy, the terminator about to fall into the Ægean Sea.
Always look a gift horse in the mouth, Virgil thought, then wondered with amusement if Brennen and he had scrutinized their respective presents with sufficient thoroughness.
He strapped into the command chair and flipped a switch. Banks of instruments closed in around him, all adjusted to rest exactly within his reach. He shuddered an instant before they stopped, then relaxed.
Nothing to fear. Nothing can happen to me so close to the end. To my beginning. You were smart, Wizard, but not smart enough. You had me learn too much about this ship, your prize. I discovered the program block that prevents my control of the ship while inside the solar system. I also found the alert program that would warn you if I remove the block. So I’ve got a secret, just in case you’re playing with me. Jord Baker knew what to do with navigation computers.
He shifted slightly in his seat and went through the checklist. Lethargic at first, he grew excited as the ship responded to his commands. The procedure took an hour. The last item in the sequence made Virgil grin with anticipation. He punched up a command to test the vernier rockets.
Vernier rockets on most spacecraft are little more than gas bottles and precise, directed nozzles. Circus Galacticus possessed twelve one-million-kilogram-thrust nuclear engines in addition to the fifty-four in her engine array. They provided the pitch, yaw, and roll capabilities of Circus.
The ship responded quickly and easily to his commands. The universe turned around him. Under his orders, the ship twisted and spun like a mastiff in heat. Each momentary firing filled Circus with thunder and the sky with a mist that glowed for an instant then faded.
Virgil smiled. I can outmaneuver ships a tenth my size. Or at least fry them if they get close enough. Why? Why such weapons, if this is just for exploration? What does Wizard expect me to meet out there?
He rotated the ship until the Earth, nearly full, hung before him. He watched it, his right hand resting on the transfer button.
If they try to stop me now, I can still drop this hammer on them. Coordinates of Brennen East encoded into manual override. All this mass would make a mess. And the anti-matter to boot, boot them into the arms of Nightsheet.
Stupid. They won’t stop me. I can do something they can’t. I ride the divine winds of Valliardi. I die for Wizard again. And again.
“Kinney-telemetry reports that you have completed your checklist.” The face of Dante Houdini Brennen appeared projected onto the viewing port by the ship’s heads-up display, a disembodied head floating in space like a god. Brennen watched Virgil closely as he spoke. “I was happy to see you handle her so well.”
“Most of my abilities probably came from Jord Baker.”
“Galacticus wasn’t finished until after his death. You know more about that ship than he ever did.”
“We both know a lot about it.”
Brennen’s expression revealed nothing, except that he watched Virgil’s face with a vivisectionist’s intensity.
His finger must be right on the button. Ready to cut me off at the slightest sign of madness. Well, I plan to pass this test, Wizard. And you’ll be old and dead and dust before the Trust finds out I’m not where I should be. If Master Snoop can even track me after I’m gone, gone, gone.
“Why did you twitch just then?” Brennen asked.
“I sat down wrong. I think my balls have fallen asleep. There’s-”
“Never mind.” Brennen looked embarrassed and annoyed.
“Where’s Delia?” Virgil took his turn scrutinizing Brennen’s face.
“Gone. She resigned from the Trust the second she stepped off the shuttle. Had a scrim written up and handed it to the first superior she saw. Me.”
Gone, gone, gone. Death Angel wouldn’t take me, why do I feel so dead?
“I’d… like to talk with her. Say goodbye.”
“I’ll try to track her down. It may take a while.”
“I have over an hour.”
“I’ll get back to you.” The scrim went blank.
Must sit still. Calm. Master Snoop still watches. Ben has eyes everywhere. Hypnot eyes. Mesmer eyes…
“Catching a last bit of sleep?”
Virgil jerked to attention, straining against the safety straps that snapped back to hold him even tighter. Delia’s face glowed against the stars. The image twinkled with static stars of its own.
“Where are you calling from?”
“Colorado. I’m staying with some relatives while my stuff is being shipped to Jefferson Freeland.” She paused and looked directly at Virgil. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. I wanted you to feel as though we’d meet again sometime.”
“So don’t say goodbye.” He smiled, as did she, her professional relief obvious.
“Don’t hit any wrong buttons. Remember-it’s a time machine.”
A siren whooped. Virgil twisted around in his seat, realized what the alarm meant, and flipped a switch.
“Ben-What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Delia answered. “It’s time to transfer. You were asleep for almost an hour. I’m surprised you’re taking this so calmly.”
“Three minutes until initial transfer to Alpha Centauri A,” the computer said. “All systems in readiness. Six-oh-two defeat in Bay Three. Overridden.” The computer switched to a rapid speech pattern and audibly indicated the status of all important functioning equipment and mentioned minor malfunctions as well.
Can’t hear myself think through Ben’s artificial roar. Making mine come back.
Delia tried to smile. “We’ll probably never meet again.”
No!
He felt sweat drip down his back. Got to be careful. Everything is being monitored. Master Snoop and Nightsheet are allied for just two more minutes. You’ve got to think a tighter gauze. Hold on for just a little more.
“Yes. I suppose this is goodbye.”
“I enjoyed working on your case.”
Is that all, Death Angel? An assignment? Seduce me into endless deathflights, take your pay and move on?
“You’ve been a great help to me…” Stupid line, stupid. Why must she stay? Does Nightsheet have you so tight in hand that you can’t escape?
The image suspended in space moved to one side and the face of Dante Houdini Brennen appeared next to Delia. He looked stern, almost rigidly alert.
“Thirty seconds, Kinney. Any last regrets?”
It’s a test. They want me to blow it. I can’t fail so close. So close to the end.
“Twenty seconds.” Brennen suddenly shouted, “There’s an overload in Cell Three!” Virgil’s hand instantly jumped out and cut the power to the cell. “Good,” said Brennen. “That’s your last drill.”
Bastard.
“Goodbye, Kinney.” Brennen’s image remained amid the stars, watching.
“Goodbye, Virgil.” Someth
ing made Delia’s eyes glisten.
“Ten seconds,” the computer said, beginning a final countdown.
“Goodbye,” Virgil said.
“Eight.”
Delia’s face suddenly collapsed into anguish. “Virgil-I’ll be dead when you return!”
“Five.”
Virgil held his breath for a second. Her code, that’s her code. Why didn’t I crack it before?
He screamed. The scream took a fraction of a second to reach Brennen East.
“Two,” the computer continued.
“Cut him off!” Brennen shouted to someone at his side, taking a half-second to bark the order. Another near second passed, during which the order was heard and complied with, the cutoff message triggered and beamed at Circus Galacticus.
The message took less than a half-second to reach Circus Galacticus, by which time the starship had faded out of the three-dimensional universe. The beam continued on, unintercepted.
A half-second after Brennen realized his error, the dimming image of Virgil on his scrim shouted again.
“Delia!”
Virgil was gone.
Chapter Five
21 September, 2111
It’s too dark this time. I’m so cold. Please. I don’t want to go. Don’t call me. I’ve got to go back. Too long, this black corridor. I know I can walk it with you. Don’t make me. Please don’t pull me. Too long. I can’t join you just yet. Don’t try to show them to me. All dead, all gone. I float. Death Angel, bring me back to life.
“Death Angel?”
The sudden return of sound made him gasp. The ship looked as it had an instant before the transference. Machinery buzzed and chittered as before. Virgil sat trembling.