Arthur Clarke - 2061 - Odyssey Three

Perhaps it was getting too hot on one side and the thermal control system was making some minor adjustments. That did happen occasionally, and was a black mark for the officer on duty, who should have noticed that the temperature envelope was being approached.

He reached for the intercom button to call – who was it? – Mr Chang on the bridge. His hand never completed the movement.

After days of weightlessness, even a tenth of a gravity is a shock. To the Captain it seemed like minutes, though it must have been only a few seconds, before he could unbuckle his restraining harness and struggle out of his bunk. This time, he found the button and jabbed it viciously. There was no reply.

He tried to ignore the thuds and bumps of inadequately secured objects that had been taken unawares by the onset of gravity. Things seemed to go on falling for a long time, but presently the only abnormal sound was the muffled, far-off scream of the drive at full blast.

He tore open the curtain of the cabin's little window, and looked out at the stars. He knew roughly where the ship's axis should have been pointing; even if he could only judge it to within thirty or forty degrees, that would allow him to distinguish between the two possible alternatives.

Galaxy could be vectored either to gain, or to lose, orbital velocity. It was losing it – and therefore preparing to fall towards Europa.

There was an insistent banging on the door, and the Captain realized that little more than a minute could really have passed. Second Officer Floyd and two other crew members were crowded in the narrow passageway.

'The bridge is locked, Sir,' Floyd reported breathlessly. 'We can't get in – and Chang doesn't answer. We don't know what's happened.'

'I'm afraid I do,' Captain Laplace answered, climbing into his shorts. 'Some madman was bound to try it sooner or later. We've been hijacked, and I know where. But I'm damned if I know why.'

He glanced at his watch, and did a quick mental calculation.

'At this thrust level, we'll have deorbited within fifteen minutes – make it ten for safety. Any way we can cut the drive without endangering the ship?'

Second Officer Yu, Engineering, looked very unhappy, but volunteered a reluctant reply.

'We could pull the circuit breakers in the pump motor lines, and cut off the propellant supply.'

'Can we get at them?'

'Yes – they're on Deck Three.'

'Then let's go.'

'Er – then the independent backup system would take over. For safety, that's behind a sealed bulkhead on Deck Five – we'd have to get a cutter – no, it couldn't be done in time.'

Captain Laplace had been afraid of that. The men of genius who had designed Galaxy had tried to protect the ship from all plausible accidents. There was no way they could have safeguarded it against human malevolence.

'Any alternatives?'

'Not in the time available, I'm afraid.'

'Then let's get to the bridge and see if we can talk to Chang – and whoever is with him.'

And who could that be? he wondered. He refused to believe that it could be one of his regular crew. That left – of course, there was the answer! He could see it all. Monomaniac researcher tries to prove theory – experiments frustrated – decides that the quest for knowledge takes precedence over everything else.

It was uncomfortably like one of those cheap 'mad scientist' melodramas, but it fitted the facts perfectly. He wondered if Dr Anderson had decided that this was the only road to a Nobel Prize.

That theory was swiftly demolished when the breathless and dishevelled geologist arrived gasping:

'For God's sake, Captain – what's happening? We're under full thrust! Are we going up – or down?'

'Down,' answered Captain Laplace. 'In about ten minutes, we'll be in an orbit that will hit Europa. I can only hope that whoever's at the controls knows what he's doing.'

Now they were at the bridge, facing the closed door. Not a sound came from the far side.

Laplate rapped as loudly as he possibly could without bruising his knuckles.

'This is the Captain! Let us in!'

He felt rather foolish at giving an order which would certainly be ignored, but he hoped for at least some reaction. To his surprise, he got one.

The external speaker hissed into life, and a voice said: 'Don't attempt anything foolish, Captain. I have a gun, and Mr Chang is obeying my orders.'

'Who was that?' whispered one of the officers. 'It sounds like a woman!'

'You're right,' said the Captain grimly. That certainly cut down the alternatives, but didn't help matters in any way.

'What do you hope to do? You know you can't possibly get away with it!' he shouted, trying to sound masterful rather than plaintive.

'We're landing on Europa. And if you want to take off again, don't try to stop me.'

'Her room's completely clean,' Second Officer Chris Floyd reported thirty minutes later, when the thrust had been cut to zero and Galaxy was falling along the ellipse which would soon graze the atmosphere of Europa. They were now committed; although it would now be possible to immobilize the engines, it would be suicide to do so. They would be needed again to make a landing – although that could be merely a more protracted form of suicide.

'Rosie McCullen! Who would have believed it! Do you suppose she's on drugs?'

'No,' said Floyd. 'This has been very carefully planned. She must have a radio hidden somewhere in the ship. We should search for it.'

'You sound like a damned cop.'

'That will do, gentlemen,' said the Captain. Tempers were getting frayed, largely through sheer frustration and the total failure to establish any further contact with the barricaded bridge. He glanced at his watch.

'Less than two hours before we enter atmosphere – what there is of it. I'll be in my cabin – it's just possible they may try to call me there. Mr Yu, please stand by the bridge and report any developments at once.'

He had never felt so helpless in his life, but there were times when doing nothing was the only thing to do. As he left the officers' wardroom, he heard someone say wistfully: 'I could do with a bulb of coffee. Rosie made the best I've ever tasted.'

Yes, thought the Captain grimly, she's certainly efficient. Whatever job she tackles, she'll do it thoroughly.

There was only one man aboard Galaxy who could regard the situation as anything but a total disaster. I may be about to die, Rolf van der Berg told himself; but at least I have a chance of scientific immortality. Though that might be poor consolation, it was more than anyone else on the ship could hope for.

That Galaxy was heading for Mount Zeus he did not doubt for a moment; there was nothing else on Europa of any significance. Indeed, there was nothing remotely comparable on any planet.

So his theory – and he had to admit that it was still a theory – was no longer a secret. How could it have leaked out?

He trusted Uncle Paul implicitly, but he might have been indiscreet. More likely, someone had monitored his computers, perhaps as a matter of routine. If so, the old scientist could well be in danger; Rolf wondered if he could – or should – get a warning to him. He knew that the communications officer was trying to contact Ganymede via one of the emergency transmitters; an automatic beacon alert had already gone out, and the news would be hitting Earth any minute now. It had been on its way now for almost an hour...

'Come in,' he said, at the quiet knock on his cabin door. 'Oh – hello, Chris. What can I do for you?'

He was surprised to see Second Officer Chris Floyd, whom he knew no better than any of his other colleagues. If they landed safely on Europa, he thought gloomily, they might get to know each other far better than they wished.