Ben Bova - End of Exile

Jayna brought him food. He took it without even speaking to her. He ate at the computer desk, while the screens flickered their messages at him. She stood behind him for a long while, not speaking, not interrupting. Linc could see her reflection in the screens, half a dozen Jaynas in half a dozen screens, all looking confused and worried. But she never questioned him.

He fell asleep at the desk. He awoke again and finished the programming. The computer digested all his instructions and questions, hummed and twittered to itself for nearly an hour—an incredibly long time for such a machine—and then reported with yellow block letters on its main screen:

“PROGRAM WORKING. ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONING AS REQUIRED.”

Linc asked the machine, “How long before we reach the transfer point?”

The answer came immediately:

“76 HR II MIN I4.08 SEC.”

“Start the countdown sequence at T minus three hours.”

“ACKNOWLEDGED.”

“How long will we be within transfer range?”

“53 MIN I2,6444I SEC.”

“The matter transmitter will have to be cycled so that it can accept one person every fifty seconds or so. Can it do that automatically?”

“AUTOMATIC CIRCUITRY NOT OPERATIVE. MANUAL CONTROL NECESSARY.”

Which means I’ll have to stay aboard until the last person goes through the transmitter. Linc told himself.

He pushed his chair away from the computer desk and glanced at the countdown sequencer, a few desks down the row. Its central screen read:

“76 HR I0 MIN 06 SEC.”

And counting, Linc added silently.

He spent most of the time up in the hub, away from everyone. He ate from the food machines and slept, a deep, long, restful sleep. Then he returned to the bridge to check the matter transmitter.

The machine didn’t look as impressive as the long row of desks and controls on the bridge. There was a transparent plastic booth, big enough to hold a person. There was a gleaming metal console that housed complex electronic circuits snaking Out of it. Linc had traced the power cables along the outside of the main tube-tunnel, straight into the fusion generators up near the hub. There was a control desk studded with knobs and switches. Linc would have to operate it smoothly, without a single wasted motion, if he was to save everyone aboard the ship.

He nodded to himself as he touched the buttons that activated the transmitter’s self-inspection sensors. The checking circuit’s green lights glowed at him. The machine was ready to function properly.

Linc frowned as he tried to fathom what fantastic powers must lie inside this machine. Jerlet had told him what the transmitter did: it transformed the atoms of whatever material was put inside it, changed them into energy that could be beamed like light for a certain distance. There was a receiving machine that had to be at the other end of the beam, which took the incoming energy and transformed it back to the original object. Put a person into the transmitter and he could be beamed instantly from the ship to the new world.

If there was enough power.

If the ship was close enough to the planet.

If the receiver was set up properly on the planet’s surface.

If the person would actually take the risk of stepping inside a machine that would literally destroy his body completely.

We can get the power by shutting down everything else aboard the ship. Linc told himself. And the remaining rockets can put us close enough to the planet for nearly an hour. The receiver’s set to blast off by itself; it operates automatically.

“That leaves only one problem,” he muttered.

He went to find Magda. She wasn’t in her room, she wasn’t with Monel. She wasn’t anywhere in the living area. Linc checked the library: empty. Then he realized where she must be.

He dashed up to the second level, soared with giant strides to the observation window.

She was kneeling on the floor, staring out at the yellow sun. Even through the heavy tint of the polarized window, Baryta glared bright and angry. Linc could see tongues of flame licking from the star’s surface, beckoning to them, reaching for them.

“Magda,” he called softly.

She looked up at him. “It’s all right, Linc. I’m not meditating. Come sit beside me.”

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Waiting.”

“For what?”

She shrugged and looked back toward the window. “For you. Or the yellow star. Whichever reaches me first.”

“I’m here.”

“You’ve found a way to save us.”

“Yes.”

She seemed neither surprised nor pleased. “I knew you would.”

“There’s something I want you to do,” he said.

“What is it?”

“You’ve got to be the first to go through the matter transmitter.”

She turned to him, her face perfectly serious, utterly calm.”! can’t be, Linc. You know that. I can’t use your machines… any of them. You see how we were punished when I tried to help you on the bridge.”

A bright flash flared outside the window, and a long flaming streak dwindled off into the distance, heading for the tiny blue crescent that was Beryl.

“That’s the receiver. It’s in an automatic rocket that will land on Beryl’s surface and wait for us.”

Despite herself, Magda looked curious. “How did you make it do that? What did you do?”

He laughed. “The machines did it. They were built long, long ago by the scientists who lived in the ship. People who were old and gone before Jerlet was born.”

“They made the machines,” Magda said.

“Yes, and Jerlet showed me how to fix them so that they’ll work properly.”

She was still kneeling, her back rigid, her eyes dark and sad. “Linc, I can’t touch your machines. I’ve been thinking about it, and meditating on it. I just can’t. It would be wrong.”

“It would be right for you to die?”

“Maybe.”

“No maybe about it. And not only you—everybody on the ship will die, too. Because if you don’t use the matter transmitter, nobody else will.”

She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Linc. There’s nothing else I can do.”

He grasped her by the shoulders. “Listen to me! There’s no choice for you. None at all. I’m going to destroy the ship. If you don’t go through the transmitter, you’ll be dead! Not maybe, not a year from now, but in just a few hours. This is for real. There’s no other way. It’s either go through the transmitter to the new world, or die here with the ship. The ship will be falling apart as we leave.”

Her eyes were wide now. And angry. “You couldn’t! No one would be able to destroy the ship… it’s our home—”

“Only for another few hours,” Linc answered. “I had to do it, and it’s already done. Just as that rocket took off for Beryl with the matter receiver, that’s how automatically the ship is going to fall apart.”

“You’re going to kill us all!”

“I’m going to save you all!”

“You’ve gone crazy!” Magda screamed. “The machines have turned you into a monster!”

He stood up, grabbed her by the wrist, and yanked her to her feet. “Listen to me and listen hard. There’s no more time to play your little games of balancing me against Monel. If you want to be a priestess to these people, then you’d better open your eyes to the truth. This ship is going to die in a few hours. Anyone left aboard will freeze, just like the ghosts.”

Magda tried to pull her hand free, but Linc just held it tighter.

“If you really want to be the leader here,” he went on, “then you’ve got to lead. If you don’t step into that transmitter booth, none of the others will. We’ll all die. You’ve got to lead us to life, Magda. If you’re really our priestess, now is the time to set an example for everybody. Life or death! It’s up to you.”