The Engines of Dawn (7 page)

Jim Vees now had to hoof it.

This particular section of the lifepod bay contained three lozenge-shaped ships capable of holding fifteen people each. But so far, the three boys from Babbitt Hall were the only evacuees in the bay.

"Who else is assigned this bay?" Ben asked, looking around. "Any of you guys know?"

George Clock nodded. "I think we share these 'pods with the Ainge Auditors."

"But they're not here," Tommy Rosales said, looking around.

Outside in the hallways, the ship's alarms were caterwauling dramatically; red and yellow lights blinked rapidly.

"I can see that," Ben said.

"Then that means we get a lifepod each," Tommy Rosales said.

"Goody," said Clock.

Red lights over the hull exits indicated that none of the 'pods had the go-ahead signal from the command deck to be released into space, nor had Ben heard the telltale sounds of airlock decompressions from neighboring lifepod bays. That meant that the Cloudman was still assessing the situation, preparatory to actually giving the "abandon ship" call.

Several minutes went by, but no command came. The alarms had been cut off, but the emergency lights continued to twirl their crimson capes in the hallways.

And in that period of time, none of the Ainge Auditors transited to the 'pod bays.

"Why aren't the Auditors here?" Ben asked.

"Who cares?" Tommy Rosales said.

"I do," Ben said.

"No you don't."

"Okay," Ben admitted. "But I'd like to know why they're not here."

"Forget those guys. Let's wait for Jim," Rosales said.

"Well,
I
think Cleddman's not going to call an evacuation and I think the Auditors know that, which means they know why."

"So?" Rosales asked.

"Let's go look," Ben said.

"No," Rosales said. "I'm staying here."

"I'll go," Clock offered. "I think you're right. Something's going on and the Auditors know what it is."

"You're both idiots," Rosales retorted.

"Where's your sense of adventure?" Ben said to him.

"It's right here, where the lifepods are," Rosales told them.

"All right," Ben said. "When Jim shows up, keep him here. Keep him out of trouble."

"I should keep you guys out of trouble," Rosales mumbled.

Ben and George Clock headed for the nearest pedestrian corridor. A transit portal would be quicker, but they were set by default to shunt people to lifepod bays in times of emergency. They jogged for an eighth of a mile to the Auditor quarters, and while some people were still heading to their assigned bays, no one appeared to stop them. No one seemed to care.

The Ainge Auditors lived in a large compound that separated the Enamorati's living spaces-and the Engine-from the rest of the university. The entrance to the Ainge Sanctuary was through a highly impractical set of oaken doors. These opened up to a small anteroom, which, in turn, opened onto a two-hundred-seat auditorium that faced a podium. This podium was used by High Auditor Nethercott for regular services, but was normally not in use at any other time.

Behind the podium was a specially treated glass wall. On the other side of the wall were what the Enamorati called their "empath stations." These flanked a long, thick rod-called the "communion rod"-which resembled a massive drive shaft, the kind that might propel a waterborne ship. Its true purpose was unknown, but students and parishioners alike would come to the Sanctuary and watch the empaths, the Avatkas, sit at their stations, plugged into the communion rod.

Ben and George Clock entered the auditorium and found the place deserted-which they expected. However, on the other side of the glass wall there were also no Avatkas sitting at their empath stations and the communion rod itself wasn't glowing.

That
was unusual.

"Wow," Clock said. "Where
is
everybody?"

"Maybe something
did
happen to the Engine," Ben said in a low voice.

Suddenly from just behind them a shadowy figure appeared and spoke to them in a stern voice. "Gentlemen," the elder said. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, shit," Clock said, whirling around.

Behind them stood High Auditor Joseph Nethercott. He was a tall, pale man in a crisp gray long coat and prim priest's collar.

"We heard that something happened to the Engine," Ben said. "We happened to be nearby."

Nethercott came down the aisle like the specter of death.

"The Engine has simply been taken off-line for the time being," Nethercott said. "There is nothing to worry about." He smiled at them with thin, bloodless lips.

"Where is everybody?" Ben asked. "Where are the Avatkas? There's always somebody at the rod." Ben pointed to the deserted communion rod room, which, he just now observed, was also devoid of the greenish gases the Avatkas normally breathed. "Looks like the atmosphere's gone out, too. What happened in there?"

The High Auditor said, "Nothing's happened. The Enamorati have merely been-"

A loud
pop!
sounded out just then and the three jerked around to see that a giant silver crack had appeared in the wall separating the communion room from the Sanctuary auditorium. The crack, thirty feet long, looked like a frozen bolt of lightning.

"
Ixion
!" Nethercott exploded.

"Jesus!" Ben said as he and George fell into defensive crouches. The sound had been quite loud.

The partition, however, held. It did not explode and no trace of the Enamorati's toxic atmosphere came hissing out at them. Seconds later, vents on the Enamorati side in the ceiling began oozing a sealing solution that raced down the crack. The viewing window would be as good as new within a few minutes.

"What the
hell
was that?" Clock said.

"Boys," Nethercott said, gathering himself together, "this is not for you. Return to your lifeboat stations and wait for the captain's command to go back to your rooms."

"But what about-" Ben started.

"Leave," Nethercott said insistently, "or I will have campus security come and drag you away. There is nothing for you here."

Ben stared at the communion-rod room and the empty empath stations
and
the long crack etched by some disturbance deep inside the Enamorati compound. But no further explosions were heard; no more cracks appeared in the glass partition.

"I'd tell someone about that," Ben said, pointing to the disappearing crack.

"I plan to," Nethercott said.

With that, they left the Sanctuary. Whatever the Ainge were up to, it was unlikely anyone else knew anything about it. Ben thought he'd try and find out.

9

That following Saturday morning the Grays made official what every human being and Enamorati on the ship already knew: Eos University was stranded 118 light-years from Earth at the Alley's inmost point in the galaxy with a permanently disabled Engine. Few people slept that night and a lot of them wound up in the health center with complaints of acute nausea and disorientation.

Eos's piloting and communications personnel reacted swiftly by firing a mayday data bullet to the Enamorati home world of Virr, which was twenty-three thousand light-years away in the inner Sagittarius Alley. That bullet, a bare description of their situation along with their stellar coordinates, was made extremely small so it could travel through trans-space as fast as possible. Despite that, it would take at least ten hours to reach Virr. Acknowledgement of the mayday, however, would likely take a little bit longer. It all depended on how long it took the Enamorati ruling council to assess the news.

In the meantime, ShipCom became very busy sending data bullets back to the worlds of the Human Community, apprising the nearby settlements of their status. Once the maydays went out, ShipCom allowed the students, faculty, and staff to file their own letters. These were shot out almost as soon as they were compacted in the rail queue, in the hope that Mom and Dad would see that everything was under control.

For Julia's part, she decided against sending a letter of her own to her mother and three sisters back on Earth in Flagstaff, Arizona, telling them of her adventures. And after the Engine had broken down, Julia had a very good adventure. As it developed, fourteen lifepods had managed to launch themselves from Eos during the Code Three emergency and it took Eos's EVA squad several hours to maneuver the pods back to the ship. Julia had managed to find herself on one of those pods with twelve women from Cowden Hall, and they stayed up all night talking about it when they got back to the dorm.

Julia had managed a little sleep by 0900 hours the next day. She had just stepped from the showers when an announcement came that the president of Eos University was going to address the student body at 1000 hours. This gave everyone time to get some breakfast and get to their assigned meeting halls.

Eos University had six assembly halls where students were corralled on special occasions to be briefed or debriefed, depending on the occasion. The William F. Nietmann Hall was quite crowded when Julia arrived, but if the several hundred students gathered there were uneasy, she couldn't tell. The place had a carnival atmosphere to it. Students were laughing and poking each other like children. Which was strange, she thought, since they almost had been blown to smithereens. But no one seemed to care.

Julia wore her usual tunic, with its twin collar pins denoting her area of study and that she already held a bachelor's degree. This allowed a seat down with the adult faculty in the front of the hall, separate from the rowdy undergrads behind her, who were busy throwing paper airplanes into the air, firing off spitwads, blasting raspberries. Julia hadn't seen a spitwad since she was in high school.
Something,
she thought,
is definitely in the air.

The group quieted down, however, when Albert Holcombe arrived. He came down the short flight of steps like a shaggy, white-headed bear, looking as if he wouldn't stand for any foolishness at that hour of the day.

Everyone suddenly shut up. The silence that filled the place was practically deafening.

Holcombe looked up at the six hundred or so assembled students. "You don't have to be quiet on my account. It's Saturday, for Christ's sake," he said. "Make all the noise you want."

The students started up again, returning to normal.

Julia watched as Professor Holcombe found a place next to his colleagues two rows in front of her. He plopped into his seat almost exuberantly.

"Good show, old man," said a geology professor.

"What did you have for breakfast, Albert?" a woman sitting to the other side of him asked.

"Wayhighs," Professor Holcombe told her. "A whole plate full."

"Christ, Al," the geology professor said in a lowered voice. "Watch what you're saying. The Grays don't have a sense of humor. They might think you're serious."

Holcombe smiled at his colleagues, but kept his silence. To Julia, it was all cryptic. She didn't know what to think of Professor Holcombe's buoyant, almost cavalier manner.

Moments later the lights in the auditorium dimmed and the giant 2D screen filled with the visage of President Porter.

"Boo!"
shouted several students.

More airplanes flew. And a shoe hit the screen.

Nolan Porter, Ph.D., was the Big Gray, a man born and bred among the Ainge on Tau Ceti 4, an Auditor himself, and a third-rate scholar-at least according to the student gossip Julia had heard. Half the students of Eos liked the man because he was Ainge; the other half didn't for the same reason. That half seemed to fill every seat in the William F. Nietmann Hall that morning. Julia almost felt giddy with a renewed sense of excitement.

His hair silver-gray, his eyes blue-gray, President Porter sat calmly at his desk, pictures of his three wives and thirty children in the background. For the occasion, he wore a long, coal gray herringbone tunic of standard cut. Everything gray. He also wore a smile.

"Oh, shit. The son-of-a-bitch is smiling," somebody said far behind Julia in the darkness. "We're in for it now!"

Giggles followed this, and several of the assembled faculty shushed them fiercely.

The giant image of President Porter began speaking down to them. "I want to thank all of you for gathering like this on such short notice. And on a Saturday morning when so many of you have papers to write and tests to study for-"

"Eat me!" someone shouted in the dark.

A female professor jumped up quickly. "Quiet! All of you!"

"-so I'll make this as short and as informative as possible: For those of you who haven't heard the news or read about it in the latest edition of
The Alley Citizen,
our student newspaper-" Porter handled his copy of
The Alley Citizen
as if it had come with a fish in it. "-a number of things have happened to the old girl, our university."

He placed the newspaper off to the side. "Late Friday afternoon, a weapon similar to old-style disassemblers destroyed part of the physics lab, causing millions of dollars of damage. I mention that because, as most of you know, a few hours later our Engine broke down and we had to return to real-space, which I'm sure you all
experienced. It certainly
caused Mrs. Porter a little scare."

Somebody hooted. Somebody else made farting sounds with his hands in his armpits.

"Hey!" the female professor shouted over her shoulder.

The president went on. "According to the Kuulo Kuumottoomaa, the Engine suffered an unexpected energy drain which caused a systemic ripple effect, destroying the Engine completely."

"Yeah? Well, at least we didn't blow the fuck up," someone else shouted.

The female professor jumped to her feet and shouted, "If I have to go up there, mister, you're going to really regret it!"

A mock-frightened hush fell over the crowd.

"The Engine failure
may
be linked to the damage done to the physics lab," Porter continued. "But we don't know yet. We are looking into every aspect of the case-"