Ben Bova - Flight of Exiles

“Who’s there?” Dr Loring called out.

No answer.

Annoyed, he raised his voice “I know I saw someone moving out there. Now, I don’t want to ruin my night sight by turning on the lights, but if you don’t come out and… “

A hand on his shoulder made him jump.

“Wha…who…”

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” a voice whispered “Old fool, you should have been safely in bed.”

“Who is it? What…”

Loring caught just the swiftest impression of a hand swinging toward him, then his skull seemed to explode and everything went completely blank.

As the old man slumped in his seat, the lean figure standing over him bent down and felt for a pulse. Then he pushed Loring out of the seat. The astronomer drifted weightlessly off, bumped against the computer terminal desk, and slid gently to the deck.

The lithe dark figure touched buttons on the computer terminal. Dr Loring’s series of observations played out on the screen all the astronomer’s words, the notes he made, the figures he had the computer draw up, the tapes of the telescope pictures. The finger touched one more button. ERASE. The computer thought it over for a microsecond, then flashed a question onto its screen: PLS CONFIRM ERASE COMMAND.

“You don’t want to be blanked out either, do you?” The figure smiled, and touched the ERASE button again. WORKING, the computer flashed. ERASURE COMPLETED. The dark figure nodded solemnly, then turned and picked up Dr Loring by the collar of his coverall and dragged him lightly to the hatch. Opening it, he pushed the astronomer’s portly body through. It floated down the tube, slowly at first, but as the gravity force steepened, it began to fall faster and faster. The dark figure watched as Loring’s body flicked past the dim emergency lights.

“Dropping like a bomb,” he murmured without humor, without hatred, without any emotion at all. “They’ll find him three or four levels below; what’s left of him.”

Larry strode stiffly down the corridor, which was still shadowy in the dim night lighting. It seemed like an endless treadmill, featureless except for the doors on each side. The soothing pastel colors of the walls were faded to an undistinguished gray in the poor light. The tiled floor curved up and away in both directions, following the huge smooth circle of the ship’s largest ring, it was uphill no matter which way you looked, although there was never any sensation of climbing at all.

But it looked uphill, and Larry felt as if he was straining up a sheer cliff wall. He didn’t even bother to glance at the nameplates on the doors he knew exactly which door he wanted.

He got there and stopped. With a deep breath, he tapped lightly on the door.

Valery opened it immediately.

“Larry, what is it?” she whispered urgently “What’s wrong? On the phone you looked…”

He still looked haggard, worried, deeply troubled.

“Is your mother awake?” he asked as he stepped into the Loring’s quarters.

“No, I didn’t wake her. I think Dad’s up at the observatory. I heard him go out a couple of hours ago. He was trying to be quiet, but he can never…”

She saw the expression on his face and stopped talking. Now Valery looked alarmed.

“There’s been an accident,” Larry said.

Her mouth opened but no sound came out.

“Your father… he must’ve slipped off and fell… down three levels of tube…”

“Oh no!” Val covered her face with her hands.

Larry went on in an emotionless monotone. “One of the camera monitors spotted him. We’ve got him in the infirmary— the medics don’t think he’ll make it. He’s pretty badly mangled.”

She collapsed into his arms. Larry held her and fought down every impulse to relax his inner self-control. Somebody’s got to be strong. Somebody’s got to keep his head clear. Can’t give in to emotions. Can’t relax. Not now. Not yet.

So he was strong and calm, any sense of fear or sadness or guilt bottled deep inside him. He helped Val to calm down. Then they woke Mrs. Loring and broke the news to her. It took the better part of an hour before she was dressed, trembling and with tear-streaked face. The three of them went wordlessly to the infirmary.

Dr. Loring was in the same cubicle that Dan had been in. His body made a puffy mound on the liquid-filled mattress. His face was unrecognizable: half hidden in plastic spray bandages, half battered and discolored. Arms and legs were covered by plastic casts. Tubes ran from a battery of machines alongside the bed into his body, his nostrils, his head.

Larry glanced at the life indications panel above the bed: heart rate, respiration, alpha rhythm, metabolic level, blood pressure—all low, feeble.

Mrs. Loring collapsed. She simply fainted, and Larry had to grab her before she slumped to the floor. A pair of nurses appeared out of nowhere and took her off, muttering, “Shock… hypertensive…”

A medic came in a few moments later.

“I think it would be best for us to keep Mrs. Loring here, at least for the rest of the night.”

Larry nodded.

“How’s…” Val’s voice was shaky. “Wh…what are the chances for my father…?”

The medic tried to smile but couldn’t quite force it through. “We’re doing everything we can. I think he’s stabilizing—that is, his life signs aren’t growing any worse, at least not over the past half-hour or so. But he’s in very poor shape… he needs extensive surgery. It’s probably beyond our limited capabilities. …”

Larry said, “There are expert surgeons in cryosleep, aren’t there?”

“A few.” The medic nodded. “I don’t know the details of their backgrounds—”

“I’ll have them checked out. Maybe we can revive them.”

“Revive them? That takes special permission—”

“I know,” Larry said.

“And the revival procedure itself takes weeks,” the medic went on. “We’d have to suspend Dr. Loring in cryosleep until the surgical team could be made ready for him. I’m not certain he’d survive freezing, in the condition he’s in.”

Larry could feel Val’s weight leaning against his arm. Without looking down at her, he told the medic, “Dr. Loring is a very important member of the Council, and as close to me as my own father. Closer, in fact. I want every resource at our disposal brought to bear to save him. I’ve already lost one father… I don’t want to lose another. Do you understand?”

“Certainly, Mr. Chairman.” The medic almost bowed. “Everything that can be done, will be, I assure you.”

Turning to Val, Larry said, “All right. Come on, let’s get out of here. There’s nothing we can do except wait.”

Slowly, he led her out of the infirmary.

As they walked along the curving corridor to nowhere in particular, Larry said, “I want you to call a friend, somebody who can stay with you. I don’t want you to stay alone.”

“All right,” she said quietly.

He glanced at his wristwatch: almost time for the morning shift to start.

“Larry…”

“What?”

Valery’s face was pale, her eyes frightened. “It’s like a sickness is sweeping through the ship, isn’t it? The fire, and Dan’s accusations, and now Dad…everything’s going crazy.”

For a few moments Larry didn’t answer. The only sounds were the padding of their slippered feet on the floor tiles, their own breathing, and the vaster breathing of the ship’s air circulation fans.

“Maybe,” he said at last, “it is a sickness. Maybe there’s a madman among us.”

She should have looked surprised. But she didn’t. “You mean Dan.” It wasn’t a question.

Larry shook his head “I don’t want to make accusations. Dan’s been acting peculiarly since his father died, but that doesn’t mean…”