One of the other men strode forward, and the girl cowered behind Eric.
"Don't believe them!" she wailed. "Lies--"
"There are so many of them," Lindquist explained. "Apparently, we're
in an area of high radiation now, Mr. Taine. So many of our people
are deranged. I won't guess at the cause, except to say it's probably
outside the ship."
The man came around Eric, tch-tch'd when the girl jumped on the bed and
stood trembling against the headboard. "Now, Laurie," the man coaxed.
"Come on down, there's a good girl."
Eric wanted to help her, but he checked the impulse. He only felt
protective. There could be nothing in the girl's story. Best if they
took her and treated her.
"... a whole cult of them," Lindquist was saying. "All lacking
something up here." He tapped his head. "They don't trust anyone, only
members. Think we're doing all sorts of foolish things. I don't know,
what would you call it in your day. Paranoia?"
Eric said he didn't know, he was not a psychologist. He watched
silently with Lindquist and Captain Larkin as the two other men took
Laurie, struggling, out the door. She kicked, bit, and cried lustily.
Once her dark eyes caught Eric's gaze, held it, and she whimpered, "I
don't care if they kill you! I don't care--"
They started down the corridor, after Lindquist said, "You've had a
hard day. I think we'd better let you sleep."
"She told you someone wanted to kill you?" Captain Larkin said, shaking
his head slowly. "What can we do, Lindquist?"
"Well, we just better hope whatever's causing this sort of thing is
left behind in space soon. Goodnight Mr. Taine."
"Goodnight, Lazarus," said Captain Larkin.
* * * * *
Eric recognized at once the great hall in which he had danced that last
night with Clair. Now Clair was gone.
The place was crowded--probably the ship's entire population. Lindquist
led him through the crowd, and he could not tell what their faces
showed. There were mumblings of "Lazarus" and "king"--but why did
he get the faint suggestion of mockery? Oddly, what Laurie said
had troubled him--he had had a bad night's sleep, and it left him
irritable. Poor girl. He wondered how many more there were like her.
Well, in time he could find out, after this nuisance of a coronation
had become history.
"Ah, Taine," Captain Larkin said as Lindquist brought him to the dais.
"As you can see, all the people are ready. I hope you won't think the
ceremony foolish. Are you ready?"
Eric nodded, watched a man raise trumpet to lips, blow one clarion
note. A hush fell over the hall.
"I am honored to present King Lazarus Seven to you," Larkin proclaimed
in a loud clear voice. "He has been sent, as you know, by the planners."
Hoots from the crowd. Eric frowned. He had thought they would respect
the planners, the men whose vision had sent Man--here in this
ship--outward bound to the stars.
Larkin's voice was honey now. "Don't judge our new king by those who
sent him. Don't--"
Laughter, and shouts of "Hail, Lazarus!" The people, Eric suddenly
realized, were almost primitive. Larkin and Lindquist and a handful
of others ran the ship, had somehow maintained the science of another
generation. But the lack of conflict, of challenge, had sent the people
down a rung or two on the ladder of civilization. Handpicked, their
ancestors had been--but they were a common mob.