Ben Bova - End of Exile

Magda sat at the countdown desk, sullenly rubbing her wrist and glaring at Linc.

He was at the computer desk, staring intently at a display from the astrogation computer. The blue Linc that marked their course had several kinks in it, each k ink jogging the Linc closer to the planet Beryl. A red flashing dot showed where the ship was at the moment. It was almost at the first kink.

“The main rockets will fire in another few seconds,” Linc said to Magda. “That is, the ones that are still working.”

He slid his chair over beside hers and touched a button on the countdown desk-top keyboard. The main screen continued to show the countdown for their transfer to Beryl. The lower left-hand screen of the group now showed a countdown for the rocket firing. It read: T MINUS 00 00 38.

“Hold on,” Linc told her. “This might be a rough blast.”

“More violence,” she snarled at him.

“If you call what I did violence—

The bridge shook. It vibrated as if some giant’s hand had grabbed it and was shaking it to see if anything inside would rattle out. Linc felt his teeth grating together and he gripped the edge of the desk to keep from falling off his chair. A deep rumbling growl filled the air: the giant’s voice. Magda clutched at Linc, and he put an arm around her.

As abruptly as it started, the noise and vibration stopped. It didn’t dwindle away; it stopped.

Magda pulled away from Linc immediately. Linc turned and looked at the astrogation display.

“Right on course.” The flashing red dot was squarely on the blue Linc, but now it was past the first bend.

“You should have warned the people about that,” Magda said. “Somebody could have gotten hurt.”

“There’s worse to come.”

“There’s going to be more blasts like that?”

He nodded. Pointing to the screen, he said, “See? Two more. And then we’re on a course that will sweep past the planet. As we fly by it, for a little less than an hour we’ll be close enough to make the jump down to Beryl’s surface. After that, the ship will swing out of range.”

Magda said, “I’ll go out and tell the people.”

“No! You stay right her^. You can talk to them on the loudspeaker… two seats down, the communications desk. You used it before.”

Magda got slowly to her feet. She eyed the hatch that led out to the passageway. For a moment, Linc was afraid that she would walk out on him. Then she stepped over to the communications desk.

She stared at the keyboard for a long moment, then looked back at Linc.

“The red button next to the microphone,” he said. “It won’t hurt you. Just tap it with your finger.”

She looked as if he was telling her to shove her hand into a flame. But she touched the red button, pulling her hand away from it almost before her finger reached it.

“Fine,” Linc said to her. “Now all you have to do is sit down and talk.”

Slowly she sat at the desk, frowning at the tiny microphone. Then she said, “This is Magda. Listen to me. Don’t be afraid. The blast that we just went through was caused by the rockets firing. Linc has worked out a way for us to get off the ship and reach the new world—”

As she spoke, Linc flicked the buttons on the computer keyboard that turned on the few TV cameras still working. Three of the screens in front of him showed people standing in the corridors, listening to Magda’s voice. People came out of their rooms to hear her. Linc saw Slav and Hollie. He couldn’t find Jayna in the crowd.

And there’s Monel. Doesn’t he look happy!

“…Don’t be afraid,” Magda was repeating. “We can reach the new world. The ship is dying, but Linc will bring us safely to the new world.”

She turned to look at him. “I can’t think of anything more to say.”

“Tell them to stand by for my orders. I’ll let them know when they have to move.”

Looking worried, Magda relayed Linc’s words to the people.

They began gathering at the bridge after the second rocket blast. Linc didn’t like them clustering around him, but they came anyway.

Should have locked the hatch, he grumbled to himself.

But they didn’t get in his way. They stood there silently, watching, staring at the screens that showed so many incomprehensible pictures, words, numbers. Linc could feel them at his back, breathing, waiting, wondering.

He glanced at Magda. She was sitting at the communications desk, her eyes closed and head bowed in meditation.

She’s got to go into the transmitter booth when I tell her to, Linc knew. If she doesn’t, we’re going to have a pack of crazy people going wild.

The countdown sequencer gave off a warning whistle, and the crowd of people shrank back from it, gasping.

“Don’t be afraid,” Linc said. “It’s just a signal that we’re going to have another rocket blast in five minutes. This’ll be the last one.” And the roughest.

They stared at the countdown screens, fascinated by the ever-changing numbers even though they couldn’t read them. A minute before the rockets were set to fire, Linc told them to lie down on the floor.

“Magda!” he called.

She raised her head and looked at him.

“Tell all the people who haven’t come up to the bridge yet to get down on the floor or on their bunks. Tell them to keep away from anything that might fall on them. They’ve got… fifty-one seconds to the final rocket burn.”

She spoke into the microphone. The crowd on the bridge lay down. Linc wedged his feet solidly against the desk supports and held onto the sides of his chair.

The giant spoke again. The roar, was bone-rattling. The whole bridge shook as if it was going to come apart. Someone screamed. Linc realized he had squeezed his eyes shut. He opened them and tried to focus on the screens in front of him, but everything was shaking too much. All he could see was a jangled, multicolored blue.

Then it stopped. Linc leaned forward to stare at the astrogation display. On course. He didn’t feel triumphant about it. Just grateful.

Magda was staring at him, watching him as intently as Linc himself watched the screens.

“Better tell everybody to start heading for the bridge. Now.” As she turned back to the microphone, Linc said to the people who were getting up off the floor, “There’s a short corridor on the other side of the hatch at the far end of the bridge. Linc up there in single file. No pushing and no panic. Everything’s going very smoothly, so let’s not foul it up by getting excited.”

A voice came screaming from the open airlock hatch that led to the passageway: “The farm tanks! Something’s happened to the pumps. They’ve stopped!”

Linc glanced at the screens that told him what the electrical power system was doing. Lights were going out all over the ship. Heaters, too. All on schedule.

The people were lining up in the corridor that led to the matter transmitter. But fresh voices were coming from the passageway that led to the living area:

“There’s no lights in the galley.”

“The air fans have stopped.”

“It’s getting cold out here! The heaters—”

Linc went to the communications desk and reached for the microphone. It pulled out of the desk top easily, trailing a hair-thin wire.

“Listen to me!” he Commanded. Magda pushed her chair back and stood beside him. “The ship is dying. We have only a little time to get off the ship and onto the new world. Linc up here at the bridge and get ready. Bring whatever you can carry with you; we won’t have time for anything else.”

He handed the mike to Magda, who took it with only the slightest grimace of distaste. “My robe,” she said. “My symbols—”