Sense of Wonder: A Century of Science Fiction (324 page)

Already the group had made a composite assessment of its members, arriving at a set of convenient labels. Culpepper: smooth, suave, easy-going. Lynch: excitable, argumentative, hot-tempered. Von Gluck: the artistic temperament, delicate with his hands and of delicate sensibilities. Ostranden prissy, finicky, overtidy. Sutton: moody, suspicious, competitive. Verona: the plugger, rough at the edges, but persistent and reliable.

Around the hull swung the gleaming hoop, and now the carrier brought up the sail, a great roll of darkly shining stuff. When unfolded and unrolled, then unfolded many times more, it became a tough gleaming film, flimsy as gold leaf. Unfolded to its fullest extent it was a shimmering disk, already rippling and bulging to the light of the sun. The cadets fitted the film to the hoop, stretched it taut as a drumhead, and cemented it in place. Now the sail must carefully be held edge on to the sun, or it would quickly move away, under a thrust of about a hundred pounds.

From the rim, braided iron threads were led to a ring at the back of the parabolic reflector, dwarfing this as the reflector dwarfed the bull, and now the sail was ready to move.

The carrier brought up a final cargo: water, food, spare parts, a new magazine for the microfilm viewer, mail. Then Henry Belt said, “Make sail.”

This was the process of turning the sail to catch the sunlight while the hull moved around Earth away from the sun, canting it parallel to the sun rays when the ship moved on the sunward leg of its orbit: in short, building up an orbital velocity which in due course would stretch loose the bonds of terrestrial gravity and send Sail 25 kiting out toward Mars.

During this period the cadets checked every item of equipment aboard the vessel. They grimaced with disgust and dismay at some of the instruments: 25 was an old ship, with antiquated gear. Henry Belt seemed to enjoy their grumbling. “This is a training voyage, not a pleasure cruise. If you wanted your noses wiped, you should have taken a post on the ground. I warn you, gentlemen, I have no sympathy for fault-finders. If you wish a model by which to form your own conduct, observe me. I accept every vicissitude placidly. You will never hear me curse or flap my arms in astonishment at the turns of fortune.”

The moody introspective Sutton, usually the most diffident and laconic of individuals, ventured an ill-advised witticism. “If we modeled ourselves after you, sir, there’d be no room to move for the whiskey.”

Out came the red book. “Extraordinary impudence, Mr. Sutton. How can you yield so easily to malice? You must control the razor edge of your wit; you will make yourself unpopular aboard this ship.”

Sutton flushed pink; his eyes glistened. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it firmly. Henry Belt, waiting, politely expectant, turned away. “You gentlemen will perceive that I rigorously obey my own rules of conduct. I am regular as a clock. There is no better, more genial shipmate than Henry Belt. There is not a fairer man alive. Mr. Culpepper, you have a remark to make?”

“Nothing of consequence, sir. I am merely grateful not to be making a voyage with a man less regular, less genial, and less fair than yourself,”

Henry Belt considered. “I suppose I can take no exception to the remark. There is indeed a hint of tartness and glancing obloquy—but, well, I will grant you the benefit of the doubt, and accept your statement at its face value.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But I must warn you, Mr. Culpepper, that there is a certain ease to your behavior that gives me cause for distress. I counsel you to a greater show of earnest sincerity, which will minimize the risk of misunderstanding. A man less indulgent than myself might well have read impertinence into your remark and charged you one demerit.”

“I understand, sir, and shall cultivate the qualities you mention.”

Henry Belt found nothing more to say. He went to the port, glared out at the sail. He swung around instantly. “Who is on watch?”

“Sutton and Ostrander, sir.”

“Gentlemen, have you noticed the sail? It has swung about and is canting to show its back to the sun. In another ten minutes we shall be tangled in a hundred miles of guy-wires.”

Sutton and Ostrander sprang to repair the situation. Henry Belt shook his head disparagingly. “This is precisely what is meant by the words ‘negligence’ and ‘inattentiveness.’ You two have committed a serious error. This is poor spaceman-ship. The sail must always be in such a position as to hold the wires taut.”

“There seems to be something wrong with the sensor, sir,” Sutton blurted. “It should notify us when the sail swings behind us.”

“I fear I must charge you an additional demerit for making excuses, Mr. Sutton. It is your duty to assure yourself that all the warning devices are functioning properly, at all times. Machinery must never be used as a substitute for vigilance.”

Ostrander looked up from the control console. “Someone
has turned off the switch, sir. I do not offer this as an excuse, but as an explanation.”

“The line of distinction is often hard to define, Mr. Ostrander. Please bear in mind my remarks on the subject of vigilance.”

“Yes, sir, but—who turned off the switch?”

“Both you and Mr. Sutton are theoretically hard at work watching for any such accident or occurrence. Did you not observe it?”

“No, sir.”

“I might almost accuse you of further inattention and neglect, in this case.”

Ostrander gave Henry Belt a long dubious side-glance. “The only person I recall going near the console is yourself, sir. I’m sure you wouldn’t do such a thing.”

Henry Belt shook his head sadly. “In space you must never rely on anyone for rational conduct. A few moments ago Mr. Sutton unfairly imputed to me an unusual thirst for whiskey. Suppose this were the case? Suppose, as an example of pure irony, that I had indeed been drinking whiskey, that I was in fact drunk?”

“I will agree, sir, that anything is possible.”

Henry Belt shook his head again. “That is the type of remark, Mr. Ostrander, that I have come to associate with Mr. Culpepper. A better response would have been, ‘In the future, I will try to be ready for any conceivable contingency.’ Mr. Sutton, did you make a hissing sound between your teeth?”

“I was breathing, sir.”

“Please breathe with less vehemence. A more suspicious man than myself might mark you for sulking and harboring black thoughts.”

“Sorry, sir, I will breathe to myself.”

“Very well, Mr. Sutton.” Henry Belt turned away and wandered back and forth about the wardroom, scrutinizing cases, frowning at smudges on polished metal. Ostrander muttered something to Sutton, and both watched Henry Belt closely as he moved here and there. Presently Henry Belt lurched toward them. “You show great interest in my movements, gentlemen.”

“We were on the watch for another unlikely contingency, sir.”

“Very good, Mr. Ostrander. Stick with it. In space nothing is impossible. I’ll vouch for this personally.”

4

Henry Belt sent all hands out to remove the paint from the surface of the parabolic reflector. When this had been accomplished, incident sunlight was now focused upon an expanse of photoelectric cells. The power so generated was used to operate plasma jets, expelling ions collected by the vast expanse of sail, further accelerating the ship, thrusting it ever out into an orbit of escape. And finally one day, at an exact instant dictated by the computer, the ship departed from Earth and floated tangentially out into space, off at an angle for the orbit of Mars. At an acceleration of g/100 velocity built up rapidly. Earth dwindled behind; the ship was isolated in space. The cadets’ exhilaration vanished, to be replaced by an almost funereal solemnity. The vision of Earth dwindling and retreating is an awesome symbol, equivalent to eternal loss, to the act of dying itself. The more impressionable cadets—Sutton, von Gluck, Ostrander—could not look astern without finding their eyes swimming with tears. Even the suave Culpepper was awed by the magnificence of the spectacle—the sun an aching pit not to be tolerated, Earth a plump pearl rolling on black velvet among a myriad glittering diamonds. And away from Earth, away from the sun, opened an exalted magnificence of another order entirely. For the first time the cadets became dimly aware that Henry Belt had spoken truly of strange visions. Here was death, here was peace, solitude, star-blazing beauty which promised not oblivion in death, but eternity.…Streams and spatters of stars…the familiar constellation, the stars with their prideful names presenting themselves like heroes: Achernar, Fomalhaut, Sadal Suud, Canopus…

Sutton could not bear to look into the sky. “It’s not that I feel fear,” he told von Gluck, “or yes, perhaps it is fear. It sucks at me, draws me out there.…I suppose in due course I’ll become accustomed to it.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Von Gluck. “I wouldn’t be surprised if space could become a psychological addiction, a need—so that whenever you walked on Earth you felt hot and breathless.”

Life settled into a routine. Henry Belt no longer seemed a man, but a capricious aspect of nature, like storm or lightning; and, like some natural cataclysm, Henry Belt showed no favoritism, nor forgave one jot or tittle of offense. Apart from the private cubicles no place on the ship escaped his attention. Always he reeked of whiskey, and it became a matter of covert speculation as to exactly how much whiskey he had brought aboard. But no matter how he reeked or how he swayed on his feet, his eyes remained clever and steady, and he spoke without slurring in his paradoxically clear, sweet voice.

One day he seemed slightly drunker than usual, and ordered all hands into spacesuits and out to inspect the sail for meteoric puncture. The order seemed sufficiently odd that the cadets stared at him in disbelief. “Gentlemen, you hesitate; you fail to exert yourselves; you luxuriate in sloth. Do you fancy yourselves at the Riviera? Into the spacesuits, on the double, and a demerit to the last man dressed!”

The last man proved to be Culpepper. “Well, sir?” demanded Henry Belt. “You have earned yourself a mark. Is it below your dignity to compete?”

Culpepper considered. “Well, sir, that might be the case. Somebody had to get the demerit, and I figured it might as well be me.”

“I deplore your attitude, Mr. Culpepper. I interpret it as an act of deliberate defiance.”

“Sorry, sir. I don’t mean it that way.”

“You feel then that I am mistaken?” Henry Belt studied Culpepper carefully.

“Yes, sir,” said Culpepper with engaging simplicity, “You are absolutely wrong. My attitude is not one of defiance. I think I would call it fatalism. I look at it this way. If it turns out that I accumulate so many demerits that you hold back my commission, then perhaps I wasn’t cut out for the job in the first place.”

For a moment Henry Belt had nothing to say. Then he grinned wolfishly. “We shall see, Mr. Culpepper. I assure you that at the present moment I am far from being confident of your abilities. Now, everybody into space. Check hoop, sail, reflector, struts, and sensor. You will be adrift for two hours. When you return I want a comprehensive report. Mr. Lynch, I believe you are in charge of this watch. You will present the report.”

“Yes, sir.”

“One more matter. You will notice that the sail is slightly bellied by the continual radiation pressure. It therefore acts as a focusing device, the focal point presumably occurring behind the cab. But this is not a matter to be taken for granted. I have seen a man burnt to death in such a freak accident. Bear this in mind.”

For two hours the cadets drifted through space, propelled by tanks of gas and thrust tubes. All enjoyed the experience except Sutton, who found himself appalled by the immensity of his emotions. Probably least affected was the practical Verona, who inspected the sail with a care exacting enough to satisfy even Henry Belt.

The next day the computer went wrong. Ostrander was in charge of the watch and he knocked on Henry Belt’s door to make the report.

Henry Belt appeared in the doorway. He apparently had been asleep. “What is the difficulty, Mr. Ostrander?”

“We’re in trouble, sir. The computer has gone out.”

Henry Belt rubbed his grizzled pate. “This is not an unusual circumstance. We prepare for this contingency by schooling all cadets thoroughly in computer design and repair. Have you identified the difficulty?”

‘The bearings which suspend the data separation disks have broken. The shaft has several millimeters play and as a result there is total confusion in the data presented to the analyzer.”

“An interesting problem. Why do you present it to me?”

“I thought you should be notified, sir. I don’t believe we carry spares for this particular bearing.”

Henry Belt shook his head sadly. “Mr. Ostrander, do you recall my statement at the beginning of this voyage, that you
six gentlemen are totally responsible for the navigation of the ship?”

“Yes, sir. But—”

“This is an applicable situation. You must either repair the computer or perform the calculations yourself.”

“Very well, sir. I will do my best.”

5

Lynch, Verona, Ostrander, and Sutton disassembled the mechanism, removed the worn bearing. “Confounded antique!” said Lynch. “Why can’t they give us decent equipment? If they want to kill us, why not shoot us and save us all this trouble?”

“We’re not dead yet,” said Verona. “You’ve looked for a spare?”

“Naturally. There’s nothing remotely like this.”

Verona looked at the bearing dubiously. “I suppose we could cast a babbitt sleeve and machine it to fit. That’s what we’ll have to do—unless you fellows are awfully fast with your math.”