Дэймон Найт - Orbit 4

Each day brought Hedrigs closer to the coast of The Continent, closer to Bayfast. Back in Krirsarque, the prospect of invading the Crownesse Keep had seemed a faraway adventure. But Svir was coming to realize that it was a reality which he personally would have to face. He spent more and more of his time in the library, taking refuge in Fantasie. Sometimes he could avoid thinking of his own problems for hours at a time. He enjoyed the recent stories most. Especially contrivance fiction. The straight fantasy themes had been handled in every conceivable way in the past seven hundred years. It was only in the last two hundred that the idea of physical progress had emerged—the idea that there could be mechanical means of achieving fantastic ends. In the last fifteen years nearly half of Fantasies output had been c.f.

Hedrigs read straight through Tsumish Kats’ new serial. Kats was a biologist in the Tsanart Archipelagate. His science was usually strong and this novel was no exception. Like many authors, he postulated the discovery of large metallic deposits on The Continent. Such deposits made possible the construction of huge metal machines —machines powered by the same (as yet unexplained) mechanism which made the sun shine. As far as Svir could tell, this story contained a genuinely original idea —one that Hedrigs wished he had thought of first. Instead of going directly to Seraph in his metal “ships of space,” Kats set up way-stations, tiny artificial moons.

The ultimate landing on Seraph produced deadly peril. Kats populated the other planet with a race of intelligent germs. Hedrigs choked—this fellow was supposed to be a biologist? But on the next few pages the author actually justified the alien existence in a manner quite as logical and novel as his space-island idea. Hedrigs found himself following the story more and more avidly as the human race fought to protect itself from the menace brought back aboard the landing ship. The struggle against the microscopic invaders was one of the most suspenseful he had ever read. Tilings looked hopeless for humankind. Hedrigs turned the page.

The dirty bastard! Hedrigs’ comfortable shell of illusion burst. Kats had actually let the human race fall before the invaders! Hedrigs suppressed a desire to rip the magazine up into small pieces. The shock was like finding a snake in a schnafel pastry. Wasn’t there enough hell in the real world? He had seen far too many stories of this type lately. Feeling quite betrayed to reality by Kats, the young astronomer stood up and stomped out of the library.

Hedrigs halted on the terrace-deck near his cabin. It was past midday. Far above him, the wind whistled through the empty rigging and mastwork. Just two miles away, the brown and gray cliffs of Sonin ai rose abruptly from the ocean, hiding Bayfast from view. Where the surf smashed into the base of Somnai the concentrated coastal plankton formed a glistening green band. In this longitude, Seraph hung almost thirty degrees above the horizon, its bluish-green crescent wraithlike against the bright blue sky.

The scene didn’t appeal. Svir cupped his chin in palm and morosely inspected the pitted guard-railing he leaned against. For all practical purposes they had reached Bay-fast. Right now Kederichi Maccioso was treating with the Port Commander for landing clearance. Apparently there was some problem about getting pier space at this time, but this would be cleared up, and this afternoon they would be sailing right past the Regent’s Keep into the Hidden Harbor. And tonight he, Svir Hedrigs, would be risking his life to save the Fantasie collection. Could he go through with it?

He didn’t notice her until she was at the railing beside him.

“Hi, Cor.”

“Hi.” She smiled. They stood for a moment silently, watching the sparkling sea. Then she said hesitantly, “It’s tonight, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Svir . . . don’t go through with it,”

“Huh?” Hedrigs looked at her in some confusion. “Why not?”

“Those magazines aren’t worth dying for. And I think you would die. Crownesse is the most powerful country in the world. When we move into the port, we’ll pass Hangman’s Row. They play awfully rough here.”

She was voicing die fears that had transformed these last few days into hell. Now if only she could convince him that it was honorable to back out. “I agreed to do it, Cor. And I owe it to Tatja.”

Ascuasenya mumbled something.

“What’s that?”

She took a deep breath and started over. “That second is no reason at all. Tatja Grimm is . . . not a very nice person. She came aboard Tarulle only five years ago, as the Barge was passing through the Eastern Crownesse ports. She was an apprentice proofreader like me. Now she is probably the most powerful person in the entire Tarulle Company—Jespen Tarulle included. She has some sort of leverage with every important person on the Barge. Some guys love her, I think. With others it’s blackmail. Many people are just afraid of her. And no one knows what she’s really after.”

Hedrigs scowled. “You can’t expect me to believe that. I’ve watched the crew working with her. She gets more wholehearted cooperation and respect from them than most officers.” Svir felt the same hostility toward Ascuascnya that he would feel toward an outsider who slandered a member of his personal family.

Cor looked tired. “That just proves she’s a brilliant leader. I don’t deny that. And she’s at least as talented when it comes to mechanical matters, smarter than anyone I’ve ever seen. She designed the power trains they use in printing. She also developed some of the special sailing rigs we have on our hydrofoils.”

Hedrigs grunted, remembering a certain conversation several days earlier. But this thought was not reflected in the manner of his next question. “Just what brings you to spread this outrageous libel?”

Ascuasenya paled slightly. “I ... I don’t want you hurt, Svir. And I know that if it would further her ends, she’d put your life in jeopardy. Besides, I . . . want you myself.” Her voice dropped almost to a whisper.

Hedrigs felt himself soften. The things Cor had said became more understandable and more excusable. “I’m sorry, Cor. I didn’t know you felt that way. But you’re wrong. Tatja is wonderful. And I love her.”

“No!” The response was violent. “Just let me show you. Can Ancho still broadcast that I’m-not-here signal?”

“Yeah.” Hedrigs petted the animal sitting on his shoulder. Ancho had seemed almost to enjoy the voyage during the last couple of days. “If he knows that something is expected of him and yet I don’t pull that confidence act, he’ll generally broadcast the I’m-not-here.”

“Fine. Let’s use him to do a little eavesdropping. I’ll give you odds of five-to-one Grimm will be doing something you’d find out of character.”

Svir was shocked by the vehemence of her assertion. Spying on others was an activity he had never condoned. He temporized. “It’s kind of late, you know. She’s probably asleep.”

“Sleep? Sometimes I wonder if she ever does that.” She caught his arm. “C’mon.”

With an ugly sense of betrayal, Hedrigs followed the apprentice proofreader. Cor led him fifty yards aft and down a couple of flights. They were well into the day sleep period, and hardly anyone was about. The mast watch could detect any hostiles approaching the vessel, but they were not well-placed for observing the deck itself.

Finally Hedrigs and Ascuasenya stood below the balcony of Grimm’s office. Hedrigs cuddled Ancho. “Stay close to me up there, Cor, and you’ll be inside the illusion, too.” He boosted her up to the balcony, then hauled himself up. They had overextended themselves: it was just conceivable that people outside the illusion might be aware of them. But he was committed now.