"With fake arms and a cosmetikit? No. They'll have to take us as we
are, unpretty, even repulsive."
"That's a better idea. I hadn't thought of the sympathy angle."
"Not sympathy--reality. It means too much to us. I don't want them to
approve of us as handsome unfortunates and then have them change their
minds when they discover what we're really like."
Sitting in silence, Docchi watched her go. She at least would benefit.
Dr. Cameron apparently hadn't noticed that the exposure to extreme cold
had done more to inhibit her unceasing growth than the acid bath. She
probably would never get back to her former size but some day, if the
cold treatment were properly investigated, she might be able to stand
at normal gravity. For her there was hope. The rest of them had to keep
on pretending that there was.
He examined the telecom. They were getting closer. No longer a point
of light, Earth was a perceptible disc. He could see the outline of
oceans, the shapes of land and the shadows of mountains, the flat
ripple where prairies and plains were; he could imagine people. This
was home--once.
Jordan came in. "The radio tape is rigged up. I haven't had to use it
yet. But we have a friend trailing along behind us, an official friend."
"Has he blipped at us?"
"When I left he hadn't. He keeps hanging on."
"Is he overtaking us?"
"He'd like to."
"Don't let him."
"With this bag of bolts?"
"Shake it apart if you have to," said Docchi impatiently. "How soon can
you slide into a broadcast orbit?"
Jordan furrowed his forehead. "I didn't think we'd planned on that this
time. It was supposed to be our last resort."
"Anti and I have talked it over. We agree that this is our last chance.
Now's the time to speak up if you've got any objections."
"I've been listening to the police calls," said Jordan thoughtfully.
"No, I guess I haven't got any objection. Not with a heavy cruiser
behind us. None at all."
* * * * *
They came together in the control compartment. "I don't want a focus
exclusively on me," Docchi was saving. "Nor on Nona either, though I
know she's most acceptable. To a world of perfect and beautiful people
we may look strange but they must see us as we are. We have to avoid
the family portrait effect."
"Samples," suggested Anti.
"In a sense we are, yes. A lot depends on whether they accept those
samples."
For the first time Cameron began to realize what they were attempting.
"Wait," he said urgently. "You're making a mistake. You've got to
listen to me."
"We've got to do this and we've got to do that," said Jordan. "I'm
getting tired of it. Can't you understand we're giving orders now?"
"That's right," said Docchi. "Jordan, see that Cameron stays out of the
transmitting angle and doesn't interrupt. We've come too far to let him
influence us."
"Sure. If he makes a sound I'll melt the teeth out of his mouth."
Jordan held the toaster against his side, away from the telecom but
aimed at Cameron.
The doctor wanted to break in but the weapon, though small, was very
real. And Jordan was ready to use it. That was the only justification
for his silence, that and the fact they'd learn anyway.
"Ready?" said Docchi.
"Flip the switch and we will be. I've hooked everything on. They can't
help themselves. They've got to listen."
The rocket slipped out of the approach lanes. It spun down, stem tubes
pulsing brightly, falling toward Earth in a tight trajectory. Down,
down; the familiar planet was very large.
"Citizens of the solar system, everyone on Earth," began Docchi. "This
is an unscheduled broadcast. We're using the emergency bands because
for us it is an emergency. I said we, and you want to know who _we_
are. Look at us. Accidentals--that's all we can be.
"We're not pretty. We know it. But there are other things more
important. Accomplishment, contribution to progress. And though it may
seem unlikely to you there are contributions we can make--if we're
permitted to do so.
"But shut away on a little asteroid we're denied our rights. All we
can do is exist in frustration and boredom, kept alive whether we want
to be or not. And yet we can help you as you've helped us--if we're
allowed to. You can't go to the stars yet, but we can. And ultimately,
through what we learn, you'll be able to.
"You've listened to experts who say it can't be done, that rockets are
too slow and that the crew would die of old age before they got back.
They're almost right, but accidentals are the exception. Ordinary
people would die but we won't. The Medicouncil has all the facts--they
know what we are--and still they refuse us."
At the side of the control compartment Cameron moved to protest. Jordan
glanced at him, imperceptibly waggling the weapon. Cameron stopped, the
words unspoken.
"Biocompensation," continued Docchi evenly as if nothing had occurred.
"Let me explain what it means in case information on it has been
suppressed. The principle of biocompensation has long been a matter
of conjecture. This is the first age in which medical techniques
are advanced enough to explore it. Every cell and organism tends to
survive as an individual and a species. Injure it and it strives for
survival according to the extent of damage. If it can it will heal the
wound and live on in its present state. Otherwise it propagates almost
immediately. You can verify this by forgetting to water the lawn and
watch how soon it goes to seed.
"Humans aren't plants, you say. And yet the principle applies.
Accidentals are people who have been maimed and mutilated almost past
belief. And our bodies have had the assistance of medical science,
_real_ medical science. Everyone knows how, after certain illnesses,
immunity to that disease can be acquired. And more than blood fractions
are involved in the process. For us blood was supplied as long as
we needed it, machines did our breathing, kidneys replaced, hearts
furnished, glandular products in exact minute quantities, nervous and
muscular systems regenerated--and our bodies responded. They had to
respond or none of us would be here today. And such was the extremity
of the struggle--so close did we come to it that we gained practical
immunity to--death."
Sweat ran down Docchi's face. He longed for hands to wipe it away.
"Most accidentals are nearly immortal. Not quite of course; we may die
four or five hundred years from now. Meanwhile there is no reason why
we can't be explorers for you. Rockets are slow. You'd die before you
got to Alpha Centauri and back. We won't. Time means nothing to us.
"Perhaps better faster rockets will be devised after we leave. You may
get there before we do. We don't mind. We will have tried to repay you
the best way we know how and that will satisfy us."
With an effort Docchi smiled. The instant he did so he felt it was a
mistake, one he couldn't call back. Even to himself it seemed more like
a snarl.
"You know where we're kept--that's more polite than saying imprisoned.
We don't call it Handicap Haven. Our name for it is: _Junkpile_. And
we're junkmen. Do you know how we feel?
"I don't know how you can persuade the Medicouncil to let us man an
expedition to the stars. We've appealed and appealed and they've always
turned us down. Now that we've let you know it's up to you. Our future
as humans is at stake. Settle it with your conscience. When you go to
sleep think of us out there on the junkpile."
He nudged the switch and sat down. His face was gray and his eyes were
rimmed and burning.
"I don't want to bother you," said Jordan. "What'll we do about these?"
Docchi glanced at the telecom. The ships were uncomfortably close and
considerably more numerous than the last time he had looked. "Take
evasive action," he said wearily. "Swing close to Earth and use the
planet's gravity to give us a good fast sendoff. We can't let them take
us until people have a chance to make their feelings known."
"Now that you've finished I want to discuss it with you," said Cameron.
There was an odd tone to his voice.
"Later," said Docchi. "Save it. I'm going to sleep. Jordan, wake me if
anything happens. And remember you don't have to listen to this fellow
if you don't want to."
Jordan nodded contemptuously. "I know what he's like. He's got nothing
to say to me."
Nona, leaning against the panel, paid no attention to any of them. She
seemed to be listening to something nobody else could hear, she, to
whom sound had no meaning. Docchi's body sagged as he went out. Her
perpetual air of wondering search for something she could never have
was not new but it was no more bearable because of that.
And while Docchi slept the race went on against a slowly changing
backdrop of stars and planets. Only the darkness remained the same; it
was immutable. The little flecks of light that edged nearer hour after
hour didn't seem cheerful to Jordan. His lips were fixed in a thin hard
line. His expression didn't alter. Presently, long after Earth was far
behind, he heard Docchi come in again.
"I've been thinking about it," said Cameron. "Nice speech."
"Yeah." Docchi glanced at the screen. The view didn't inspire comment.
Cameron was standing at the threshold. "I may as well tell you," he
said reluctantly. "I tried to stop the broadcast as soon as I found out
what was going on. You wouldn't listen."
He came on into the control compartment. Nona was huddled in a seat,
her face blankly incurious. Anti was absent, replenishing the acid for
her robe. "Do you know why the Medicouncil refused to let you go?"
"Get to the point."
"Damn it, I am," said Cameron, sweating. "The Centauri group contains
several planets, just how many we're not sure. From what we know of
cosmology there's a good chance intelligent life exists there, probably
not far behind us in technical development. Whoever goes there will
be our representatives to an alien race. What _they_ look like isn't
important; it's their concern. But our ambassadors have to meet certain
minimum standards. It's an important occasion, our future relations
rest on. Damn it--don't you see _our_ ambassadors must at least
_appear_ to be human beings?"
"You're not telling us anything new. We know how you feel." Jordan was
rigid with disgust.
"You're wrong," said Cameron. "You're so wrong. I'm not speaking for
myself. I'm a doctor. The medicouncilors are doctors. We graft on or
regenerate legs and arms and eyes. The tools of our trade are blood and
bones and intestines. We know very well what people look like from the
inside. We're well aware of the thin borderline that separates normal
men and women from accidentals.
"Can't you still understand what I'm saying? They're perfect,
everybody's perfect. Too much so. They can't tolerate small blemishes.
More money is spent for research on acne than to support the whole
asteroid. They rush to us with wrinkles and dandruff. Health, or the
appearance of it, has become a fetish. You may think the people you
appealed to are sympathetic but what they feel is something else."
"What are you driving at?" said Docchi in a low voice.
"Just this: if it were up to the Medicouncil you'd be on your way to
the Centauris. It isn't. The decision wasn't made by us. Actually it
came directly from the Solar Government. And the Solar Government never
acts contrary to public opinion."
Docchi turned away, his face wrinkled in distaste. "I didn't think you
had the nerve to stand there and say that."
"I didn't want to. But you've got to know the truth." Cameron twisted
his head uncomfortably. "You're not far from Earth. You can still pick
up the reaction to your broadcast. Try it and see."
Jordan looked at Docchi who nodded imperceptibly. "We may as well,"
said Docchi. "It's settled now, one way or the other. Nothing we can do
will change it."
Jordan searched band after band, eagerly at first. His enthusiasm died
and still the reaction never varied. Private citizen or public figure,
man or woman, the indignation was concealed but nevertheless firm and
unmistakable. There was no doubt accidentals were unfortunate but they
were well taken care of. There was no need to trade on deformity; the
era of the freak show had passed and it never would return.
"Turn it off," said Docchi at last.
Numbly Jordan complied.
"Now what?" he said.
"Why fight it?" said the doctor. "Go back to the asteroid. It'll be
forgotten."
"Not by us," said Docchi dully. "But there doesn't seem to be any
choice. It would have been better if we had tried to work through the
Medicouncil. We misjudged our allies."
"We knew you had," said Cameron. "We thought we'd let you go on
thinking as you did. It gave you something to hope for, allowed you to
feel you weren't alone. The trouble was that your discontent carried
you further than we thought it could."
"We did get somewhere," Docchi said. His lethargy seemed to lift
somewhat as he contemplated what they'd achieved. "And there's no
reason we have to stop. Jordan, contact the ships behind us. Tell
them we've got Cameron on board. A hostage. Play him up as their man.
Basically he's not bad. He's not against us as much as the rest are."
Anti came into the compartment. Cheerfulness faded from her face.
"What's the matter?"
"Jordan'll tell you. I want to think."
Docchi closed his eyes and his mind to the whispered consultation of
Anti and Jordan, to the feeble ultimatum to the ships behind them. The
rocket lurched slightly though the vibration from the exhaust did not
change. There was no cause for alarm, the flight of a ship was never
completely steady. Minor disturbances no longer affected Docchi.
When he had it straightened out in his mind he looked around. "If we
were properly fueled and provisioned I would be in favor of heading for
Alpha or Proxima. Maybe even Sirius. Distance doesn't matter since we
don't care whether we come back." It was plain he wasn't expending much
hope. "But we can't make it with the small fuel reserve we have. If we
can lose the ships behind us we may be able to hide until we can steal
fuel and food."
"What'll we do with doc?" said Jordan. He too was infected with defeat.
"We'll have to raid an unguarded outpost, a small mining asteroid is
our best bet. We'll leave him there."
"Yeah," said Jordan listlessly. "A good idea, _if_ we can run away from
our personal escort. Offhand I don't think we can. They hesitated when
I told them we had Cameron but they didn't drop back. Look."
He looked himself and, unbelievingly, looked again. He blinked rapidly
but the screen could report only what there was.
"They're gone," he said, his voice breaking with excitement.
Almost instantly Docchi was at his side. "No, they're still following
but they're very far behind." Even as he looked the pursuing ships
shrank visibly, steadily losing ground.
"What's the relative speed?" said Jordan. He looked at the dials,
tapped them, pounded on them, but the speed wouldn't change. If it
hadn't been confirmed by the screen he'd have said that the needles
were stuck or the instruments were completely unreliable.
"What did you do with the rockets?" demanded Docchi.
"That's a foolish question. What could I do? We were already at top
speed for this piece of junk."
And there was no way to explain the astonishing thing that had
happened. They were all in the control compartment, Cameron, Anti,
Jordan and himself. Nona was there too, sitting huddled up, head
resting in her arms. There was no explanation at all, unless--Docchi
scanned all the instruments again. That was when he first noticed it.
Power was pouring into the gravity drive. The useless, or at least long
unused dial was indicating unheard of consumption. "The gravity drive
is working," Docchi said.
"Nonsense," said Anti. "I don't feel the weight."
"You don't and won't," said Docchi. "The gravity drive was installed to
propel the ship. When it was proved unsatisfactory for that purpose it
was converted, which was cheaper than removing it.
"The difference between the drive and ordinary gravity is slight but
important. An _undirected_ general field produces weight effects inside
the ship. That's for passenger comfort. A _directed_ field, outside it,
will drive it. You can have one or the other but not both."
"But I didn't turn on the drive," said Jordan in bewilderment. "It
wouldn't work for more than a few seconds if I did. That's been proven."
"I'd agree with you except for one thing. It is working, has been
working and shows no sign of stopping." Docchi stared speculatively at
Nona. She was curled up but she wasn't resting. Her body was too tense.
"Get her attention," he said.
Jordan gently touched her shoulder. She opened her eyes but she wasn't
looking at them. On the panel the needle of a once useless dial rose
and fell.
"What's the matter with the poor dear?" asked Anti. "She's shaking."
"Let her alone," said Docchi. "Let her alone if you don't want to
return to the asteroid." No one moved. No one said anything. Minutes
passed and the ancient ship creaked and quivered and ran away from the
fastest rockets in the system.
"I think I can explain it," said Docchi at last, frowning because
he couldn't quite. There were things that still eluded him. "Part
of the gravity generating plant--in a sense the key component--is
an electronic computer, capable of making all the calculations and
juggling the proportion of power required to produce directed or
undirected gravity continuously. In other words a brain, a complex
mechanical intelligence. But it was an ignorant intelligence and it
couldn't see why it should perform ad infinitum a complicated and
meaningless routine. It couldn't see why and because it couldn't very
simply it refused to do so.
"It was something like Nona. She's deaf, can't speak, can't communicate
in any way. Like it she has a very high potential intelligence and
also, in the very same way, she's had difficulty grasping the facts of
her environment. Differently though, she does have some contact with
people and she has learned something. How much she knows is uncertain
but it's far beyond what psychologists credit her with. They just can't
measure her type of knowledge."
"Yeah," said Jordan dubiously. "I'll agree about Nona. But what is she
doing?"
"If there were two humans you'd call it telepathy," said Docchi. It
upset his concepts too. A machine was a machine--a tool to be used. How
could there ever be rapport? "One intelligence is electronic, the other
organic. You'll have to dream up your own term because the only thing
I can think of is extra sensory perception. It's ridiculous but that's
what it is."
Jordan smiled and flexed his arms. Under the shapeless garment muscles
rippled. "To me it makes sense," he said. "The power was always there
but they didn't know what to do with it." The smile broadened. "It
couldn't have fallen into better hands. We can use the power, or rather
Nona can."
"Power?" said Anti, rising majestically. "If you mean by that what it
sounds like, I don't care for it. All I want is just enough to take us
to Centauri."
"You'll get there," said Docchi. "A lot of things seem clearer now. In
the past why did the drive work so poorly the further out it got? I
don't think anyone investigated this aspect but if they had I'm sure
they'd have found that the efficiency was inversely proportional to the
square of the distance from the sun.
"It's what you'd expect from a deaf, blind, mass sensitive brain, the
gravity computer. It wouldn't be aware of the stars. To it the sun
would seem the center of the universe and it would no more leave the
system than our remote ancestors would think of stepping off the edge
of a flat world.
"And now that it knows differently the drive ought to work anywhere.
With Nona to direct it, even Sirius isn't far."
"What are you thinking about, doc?" said Jordan carelessly. "If I were
you I'd be figuring a way to get off the ship. Remember we're going
faster than man ever went before." He chuckled. "Unless, of course, you
_like_ our company and don't want to leave."
"We've got to do some figuring ourselves," said Docchi. "There's
no use heading where there are no stars. We'd better determine our
destination."
"A good idea," said Jordan, hoisting himself up to the charts. He
busied himself with interminable calculations. Gradually his flying
fingers slowed and his head bent lower over the work. Finally he
stopped, his arms hanging slack.
"Got it?"
"Yeah," said Jordan. "There." Dully he punched the telecom selector and
a view took shape on the screen. In the center glimmered a tiny world,
a fragment of a long exploded planet. The end of their journey was
easily recognizable.
It was Handicap Haven.
"But why are we going there?" asked Anti. She looked at Docchi in
amazement.
"We're not going voluntarily," he said, his voice flat and spent.
"That's where the Medicouncil wants us. We forgot about the monitor
system. When Nona activated the gravity drive it was indicated at some
central station. All the Medicouncil had to do was take the control
away from Nona."
"We thought we were running away from the ships," said Anti. "We were,
but only to beat them back to the junkpile."
"Yeah," said Docchi. "Nona doesn't know it yet."
"Well, it's over. We did our best. There's no use crying about it." Yet
she was. Anti passed by the girl, patting her gently. "It's all right,
darling. You tried to help us."
Jordan followed her from the compartment. Cameron remained, coming over
to Docchi. "Everything isn't lost," he said awkwardly. "The rest of you
are back where you started but at least Nona isn't."
"Do you think she'll benefit?" asked Docchi. "Someone will, but it
won't be Nona."
"You're wrong. Suddenly she's become important."
"So is a special experimental machine. Very valuable but totally
without rights or feelings. I don't imagine she'll like her new status."
Silence met silence. It was the doctor who turned away. "You're sick
with disappointment," he said thickly. "Irrational, you always are when
you glow. I thought we could talk over what was best for her but I can
see it's no use. I'll come back when you're calmer."
Docchi glared sightlessly after him. Cameron was the only normal who
was aware that it was Nona who controlled the gravity drive. All the
outside world realized was that it was in operation--that at last it
was working as originally intended. If they should dispose of Cameron--
He shook his head. It wouldn't solve anything. He could fool them for a
while, pretend that he was responsible. But in the end they'd find out.
Nona wasn't capable of deception--and they'd be very insistent with a
discovery of this magnitude.
She looked up and smiled. She had a right to be happy. Until now she
had been alone as few people ever are. But the first contact had been
made and however unsatisfactory--what could the limited electronic mind
say?--in other circumstances it might have presaged better days. She
didn't know she was no less a captive than the computer.
Abruptly he turned away. At the telecom he stopped and methodically
kicked it apart, smashing delicate tubes into powder. Before he left he
also demolished the emergency radio. The ship was firmly in the grip of
the monitor and it would take them back. There was nothing they had to
do. All that remained for him was to protect Nona as long as he could.
The Medicouncil would start prying into her mind soon enough. He hoped
they'd find what they were after without too much effort. For her sake
he hoped they would.
6
Perfectly synchronized to their speed the outer shell of the dome
opened, closing behind them before they reached the inner shell. It
too gaped wide to swallow them, snapping shut like a quickly sprung
trap. Jordan set the controls in neutral and dropped his hands,
muttering to himself. They glided to a stop over the landing pit,
thereafter settling slowly. Homecoming.
"Cheer up," said Cameron jauntily. "You're not prisoners."
Nona alone seemed not to mind. Docchi hadn't said anything for hours
and the light was gone from his face. Anti wasn't with them; she was
back floating in the acid tank. The reentry into the gravity field of
the asteroid made it necessary.
The ship scraped gently; they were down. Jordan mechanically touched a
lever, flicked a switch. Passenger and freight locks swung open. "Let's
go," said Cameron. "I imagine there's a reception committee for us."
Even he was surprised at what was waiting. The little rocket dome held
more ships than normally came in a year. The precise confusion of
military discipline was everywhere. Armed guards lined either side of
the landing ramp and more platoons were in the distance. It was almost
amusing to see how dangerous the Medicouncil considered them.
Near the end of the ramp a large telecom had been set up. If size
indicated anything someone thought this was an important occasion.
From the screen, larger than life, Medicouncilor Thorton looked out
approvingly.
"A good job, Dr. Cameron," said the medicouncilor as the procession
from the ship halted. "We were quite surprised at the escape of our
accidentals and your disappearance which coincided with it. From what
we were able to piece together, you followed them deliberately. A
splendid example of quick thinking, doctor. You deserve recognition."
"I thought it was my fault for letting them get so far. I had to try to
stop them."
"No doubt it was. But you atoned, you atoned. I'm sorry I can't
be there in person to congratulate you but I'll arrive soon." The
medicouncilor paused discreetly. "At first the publicity was bad, very
bad. We thought it unwise to try to conceal it. Of course the broadcast
made it impossible to hide anything. Fortunately the discovery of the
gravity drive came along at just the right time. When we announced it
opinion began swinging in our direction. I don't mind telling you the
net effect is now in our favor."
"I hoped it would be," said Cameron. "I don't want them to be hurt.
They're all vulnerable, Nona especially, because of what she is. I've
thought quite a bit about how she should be approached----"
"I'm sure you have." The medicouncilor smiled faintly. "Don't let
your emotions run away with you. In due time we'll discuss her. For
the present see that she and the other accidentals are returned to
their usual places. Bring Docchi to your office at once. He's to be
questioned privately."
It was a strange request and mentally Cameron retreated. "Wait. Are you
sure you want Docchi? He's the engineer but----"
"No objections, doctor," said Thorton sternly. "Important people are
waiting. Don't spoil their good opinion of you." The telecom snapped
into darkness.
"I think you heard what he said, Dr. Cameron." The officer at his side
was very polite, perhaps because it emphasized the three big planets on
his tunic.
"I heard," said Cameron irritably. "I don't want to argue with
authority but since I'm in charge of this place I demand that you
furnish a guard for this girl.
"So you're in charge?" drawled the officer. "You know I've got a funny
feeling I'm commander here. My orders said I was to replace you until
further notice. I haven't got that notice." He looked around at his men
and crooked a finger. "Lieutenant, see that the little fella--Jordan,
I think his name is--gets a lift back to the main dome. And you can
walk the pretty lady to her room, or whatever it is she lives in.
Don't get too personal though unless she encourages it." He smiled
condescendingly at Cameron. "Anything else I can do to oblige a fellow
commander?"
Cameron glanced at the guards. They were everywhere he looked,
smartly uniformed, alert. There was no indication of amusement in the
expressions of those near enough to have heard the conversation. They
were well disciplined. "Nothing else, General," he said stonily. "Keep
her in sight. You're responsible."
"So I am," remarked the officer pleasantly, winking at the lieutenant.
"Let's go."
* * * * *
Medicouncilor Thorton was waiting impatiently on the screen in
Cameron's office. The attitude suited him well, as if he'd tried many
and found slightly concealed discourtesy best for the personality
of the busy executive. "We'll arrive in about two hours," he said
immediately. "By this I mean a number of top governmental officials,
scientists, and some of our leading industrialists. Their time is
valuable so let's get on with this gravity business."
He caught sight of the commander. "General Judd, this is a technical
matter. I don't think you'll be interested."
"Very well, sir. I'll stand guard outside."
The medicouncilor was silent until the door closed. "Sit down, Docchi,"
he said with unexpected solicitude, pausing to note the effect. "I can
sympathize with you. Everything within your reach--and then to return
here. Well, I can understand how you feel. But since you did come back
I think we can arrange to do things for you."
Docchi stared at the screen. A spot of light pulsed in his cheek
and then flared rapidly over his face. "You probably will," he said
casually. "But what about theft charges? We stole a ship."
"A formality," declared the medicouncilor with earnest simplicity.
"With a thing like the discovery, or rediscovery, of the gravity drive,
no one's going to worry about an obsolete ship. How else could you test
your theories except by trying them out in actual flight?"
The medicouncilor was dulcet, coaxing. "I don't want to mislead you.
Medically we can't do any more for you than we have. However you'll
find yourself the center of a more adequate social life. Friends, work,
whatever you want. In return for this naturally we'll expect your
cooperation."
"Wait," said Cameron, walking to the screen and standing squarely in
front of it. "I don't think you realize Docchi's part----"
"Don't interrupt," glowered Thorton. "I want to reach an agreement at
once. It will look very good for us if we can show these famous people
how well we work with our patients. Now, Docchi, how much of the drive
can you have on paper by the time we land?"
"He can't have anything," Cameron started shouting. "I tried to tell
you--he doesn't know----"
"Look out," cried Thorton too late.
Cameron's knees buckled and he clutched his legs in pain. Again Docchi
kicked out and the doctor fell down. Docchi aimed another savage blow
with his foot that grazed the back of Cameron's head. Blood trickled
from his mouth and he stopped trying to get up.
"Docchi," screeched Thorton, but there was no answer.
Docchi crashed through the door. The commander was lounging against the
wall, looking around vacantly. Head down Docchi plunged into him. The
toaster fell from his belt to the floor. With scarcely a pause Docchi
stamped on it and continued running.
The commander got up, retrieving the weapon. He aimed it at the
retreating figure and would have triggered it except that it didn't
feel right in his hand. He lowered it and quickly examined the damaged
mechanism. Sweating, he slipped it gingerly into a tunic pocket.
Muffled shouts were coming from Cameron's office, growing in vehemence.
The general broke in.
The medicouncilor glared at him from the screen. "I see that you let
him get away."
The disheveled officer straightened his uniform. "I'm sorry, sir.
I didn't think he had that much life in him. I'll alert the guards
immediately."
"Never mind now. Revive that man."
The general wasn't accustomed to resuscitation; saving lives was out of
his line. Nevertheless in a few minutes Cameron was conscious, though
somewhat dazed.
"Now, doctor, who does know something about the gravity drive if it
isn't Docchi?"
Cameron shook his head groggily. "It was an easy mistake," he said.
"Cut off from communication with us the drive began to work. How, why,
who did it? Mostly who. Not me, I'm a doctor, not a physicist. Nor
Jordan; he's at best a mechanic. Therefore it had to be Docchi because
he's an engineer." He stopped to wipe the blood from his cheek.
"For God's sake tell me," said Thorton. "It couldn't be----"
"No," said Cameron with quiet satisfaction. "It wasn't Anti either.
The last person you'd think of. The little deaf and dumb girl the
psychologists wouldn't bother with."
"Nona?" said Thorton incredulously.
"I told you," said Cameron and proceeded to tell him more, filling in
the details.
"I see. We overlooked that possibility," said the medicouncilor
gravely. "Not the mechanical genius of an engineer. Instead the strange
telepathic sense of a girl. That puts the problem in a different light."
"It's not so difficult though." Cameron rubbed the lump on the back of
his head. The hair was bristling, clotted with blood. "She can't tell
us how she does it. We'll have to find out by experiment, but it won't
involve any danger. The monitor can always control the drive."
The medicouncilor laughed shakily, teetering backward. "The monitor
is worth exactly nothing. We tried it. For a microsecond it seemed to
take over as it always has on other units--but this gravity generator
slipped away. We thought Docchi found a way to disengage the control
circuit."
"But it wasn't Docchi who told the computer how to do it."
"We figured it out when we thought it was Docchi," growled the
medicouncilor wearily. "He was sensible, that's all. It was the only
reasonable thing a man could do, come back and take advantage of his
discovery." He shook his head in perplexed disgust. "Why the girl
returned is beyond me."
"Do you think----" said Cameron and then wished he'd left it unsaid.
"Yes, by God, I do think." The medicouncilor's fist crashed down.
"Docchi knows why. He found out in this room and we told him. As soon
as he knew he escaped."
Panic slipped into Thorton's face and then was gone, covered over
almost at once by long habits of sudden decisions. "She could have
taken the ship anywhere she wanted and we couldn't stop her. Since
she's here voluntarily it's obvious what she wants--the asteroid."
The medicouncilor tried to shove himself out of the screen. "Don't
you ever think, General? There's no real difference between gravity
generators except size and power. What she did on the ship she can do
as easily here."
"Don't worry," said the startled officer. "I'll get her. I'll find the
girl and Docchi too."
"Never mind him," choked the medicouncilor. "I don't care how you do
it. Take Nona at once, without delay."
The time had passed for that command. The great dome overhead trembled
and creaked in countless joints. But the structure held though
unexpected stresses were imposed on it. And the tiny world shivered,
groaning and grumbling at the orbit it had lain too long in. Already
that was changing--the asteroid began to move.
7
Vague shapes were stirring. They walked if they could, crawled if
they couldn't--fantastic and near-fantastic creatures were coming
to the assembly. Large or tiny, on their own legs or borrowed ones
they arrived, with or without arms, faces. The news had spread fast,
by voice or written message, sign language, lip reading, all the
conceivable ways that humans communicate, not the least of which was
the vague intuition that something was going on that the person should
know about. The people on Handicap Haven sensed the emergency.
"Remember it will be hours or perhaps days before we're safe," said
Docchi. His voice was hoarse but he hadn't noticed it yet. "It's up to
us to see that Nona has all the time she needs."
"Where is she hiding?" asked someone in the crowd.
"I don't know. I wouldn't tell you if I did. They might pry it out of
you. Right now our sole job is to keep them from finding her."
"How?" demanded someone else near the front. "Do you expect us to fight
the guards?"
"Not directly," said Docchi. "We have no weapons for that, no armament.
Many of us have no arms in another sense. All we can do is to obstruct
their search. Unless someone can think of something better, this is
what I plan:
"I want all the men, older women and the younger ones who aren't
suitable for reasons I'll explain later. The guards won't be here for
half an hour--it will take that long to get them together and give them
orders. When they do come the first group will attempt to interfere in
every possible way with their search.
"How you do it I'll leave to your imagination. Appeal to their sympathy
as long as they have any. Put yourself in dangerous situations. They
have ethics and at first they'll be inclined to help you. When they do,
try to steal their weapons. Avoid physical violence as much as you can.
We don't want to force them into retaliation--they'll be so much better
at it. Make the most of this phase of their behavior. It won't last
long."
Docchi paused to look over the crowd. "Each of you will have to decide
for himself when to drop passive resistance and start the real battle.
Again, you may be able to think of more things than I can tell you
but here are some suggestions. Try to disrupt the light, scanning and
ventilation systems. They'll be forced to keep them in repair. Perhaps
they'll even attempt to guard all the strategic points. So much the
better for us--there'll be fewer guards to contend with."
"What about me?" called a woman from far in back. "What can I do?"
"You're in for a rough time," Docchi promised. "Is Jeriann here?"
Jeriann elbowed her way through the crowd to his side. Docchi glanced
at her. He'd seen her many times but never so close. It was hard to
believe that she should be here with the rest of them. "Jeriann,"
said Docchi to the accidentals, "is a normal pretty woman--outwardly.
However she has no trace of a digestive system. The maximum time she
can go without food and fluid absorption is ten hours. That's why she's
with us and not on Earth."
Docchi scanned the group. "I'm looking for a miracle. Is there a
cosmetechnician who thinks she can perform one? Bring your kit."
A legless woman propelled herself forward. Docchi conferred at
length with her. At first she was startled, reluctant to try but
after persuasion she consented. Under her deft fingers Jeriann was
transformed. When she turned around and faced the crowd she was no
longer herself--she was Nona.
"She can get away with the disguise longer and therefore she'll be the
first Nona they find," explained Docchi. "I think--hope--that they'll
call off the search for a few hours after they take her. Eventually
they'll find out she isn't Nona when they can't get her to stop the
drive. Fingerprints or x-rays would reveal it at once but they'll be so
sure they have her that it won't occur to them. Nona is impossible to
question as you know and Jeriann will give as good an imitation as she
can.
"As soon as they discover that the girl they have is Jeriann they won't
bother to be polite. Guards will like the idea of finding attractive
girls they can manhandle in the line of duty especially if they think
it will help them find Nona. It won't, but I think they'll get too
enthusiastic and that in itself will hold up the search."
No one moved. The women in the crowd were still, looking at each other
in silent apprehension. Jordan started them. He twisted his head,
grimacing. "Let's get busy," he said somberly.
"Wait," said Docchi. "I have one Nona. I need more volunteers, at least
fifty. It doesn't matter whether the person is physically sound or not,
we'll raid the lab for plastic tissue. If you're about her size and can
walk and have at least one arm come forward."
And slowly, singly and by twos and threes, they came to the platform.
There were few indeed who wouldn't require liberal use of camouflage.
It was primarily on these women their hopes rested.
The other group followed Jordan out, looking at Docchi for some sign.
When he gave them none they hurried on determinedly. He could depend on
them. The sum total of their ingenuity would produce some results.
Mass production of an individual. Not perfect in every instance--good
enough to pass in most. Docchi watched critically, suggesting
occasional touches that improved the resemblance. "She can't speak
or hear," he reminded the volunteers. "Remember it at all times no
matter what they do. Don't scream for help, we won't be able to. Hide
in difficult places. After Jeriann is taken and the search called off
and then resumed, let yourselves be found, one at a time. We can't
communicate with you and so you'll just have to guess when it's your
turn. You should be able to tell by the flurry of activity. That will
mean they've discovered the last person they captured wasn't Nona.
Every guard that has to take you in for examination is one less to
search for the girl they really want. They'll have to find Nona soon or
get off the asteroid."
The cosmetechnicians were busy and they couldn't stop. But there was
one who looked up. "Get off?" she asked. "Why?"
He thought he'd told everyone. She must have arrived late. It was
satisfying to repeat it. "Handicap Haven is leaving the solar system,"
he said.
Her fingers flew, molding the beautiful curve of a jaw where there had
been none. Next, plastic lips were applied that were more lifelike than
any this woman had ever created.
Soon Nona was hiding in half a hundred places.
And one more.
* * * * *
The orbit of Neptune was behind them, far behind, and still the
asteroid accelerated. Two giant gravity generators strained at the
crust and core of the asteroid. The third clamped an abnormally heavy
gravity field around the fragment of an isolated world. Prolonged
physical exertion was awkward and doubly exhausting. It tied right in;
the guards were not and couldn't be very active. Hours turned into
a day and the day passed too--and the generators never faltered. It
seemed they never would.
"Have you figured it out precisely? It's your responsibility, you
know," said Docchi ironically. "You share our velocity away from the
sun. You'll have to overcome it before you start going back. If you
wait too long you might not be able to reach Earth."
Superficially the general seemed to ignore him but the muscles in his
jaw twitched. "If we could only turn off that damned drive."
"That's what we're trying to do," said Vogel placatingly.
"I know. But if we could do it without finding her."
The resident engineer shrugged sickly. "Go ahead. Try it. I don't want
to be around when you do. I know, it sounds easy, just a couple of
gravity generators. But remember there's also a good sized nuclear pile
involved."
"I know, I know," muttered the general morosely. "Damned atomics not
worth inventing. Nothing you can do with them, always too touchy." He
glowered at the darkness overhead. "On the other hand we can take off
and blow this rock apart from a safe distance."
"And lose all hope of finding her?" taunted Docchi.
"We're losing her anyway," commented Vogel sourly.
"You're getting way from the perspective. It's not as bad as that,"
counselled Docchi. "Now that you know where the difficulty is you can
always build other computers and this time furnish them with auxiliary
senses. Or maybe give them the facts of elementary astronomy."
"Now why didn't I think of that?" said Vogel disgustedly. "You don't
need me here, do you, General? If not I'd like to go back to my ship."
The general grunted consent and the engineer left, lurching under the
massive gravity.
"There's even another solution though it may not appeal to you," said
Docchi cautiously. "I can't believe Nona is altogether unique. There
must be others like her, so-called 'born mechanics' whose understanding
of machinery is a form of intelligence we haven't suspected.
Look hard and you may find them, perhaps in the most unlikely or
unlovely bodies." It didn't show but inwardly he was smiling. He was
harassing them effectively from this end. Hope was sometimes the most
demoralizing agent.