Джон Макдональд - Wine of the Dreamers [= Planet of the Dreamers]

Bard said, “I can’t help it. And I admit to certain animosity, too. Leesa, as I understand it, ruined Project Tempo.”

Sharan lifted her right hand. “Only because I didn’t understand, then. Believe me, Bard. Please. You have to believe me. You see, I—”

Bard’s right hand lifted and Raul said, “Leesa, we haven’t time for that sort of thing. Don’t interrupt for a moment. I want to draw the instrument panel for Dr. Lane.”

Bard Lane felt the pressure that forced him further back from the threshold of volition. His hand grasped the pencil. Quickly a drawing of an old instrument panel began to take shape. Across the top were what appeared to be ten square dials. Each one was calibrated vertically, with a zero at the middle, plus values above, minus values below the zero point. The indicator was a straight line across the dial resting on the zero point. Below each dial were what appeared to be two push buttons, one above the other. Raul murmured, “This is the part that I cannot understand. I have figured out the rest of the controls. The simplest one is directional. A tiny replica of the ship is mounted on a rod at the end of a universal joint. The ship can be turned manually. From what I have gathered from the instruction manuals, the replica is turned to the desired position. The ship itself follows suit, and as it does so, the replica slowly moves back to the neutral position. Above the ten dials is a three-dimensional screen. Once a planet is approached, both planet and ship show on the screen. As the ship gets closer to the surface, the scale becomes smaller so that actual terrain details appear. Landing consists of setting the ship image gently against the image of the planet surface. Such maneuvering is apparently on the same basis as the Beatty One. But there is no hand control for it. There are diaphragms to strap on either side of the larynx and velocity is achieved through the intensity with which a certain vowel is uttered. I tested that portion of the ship by making the vowel sound as softly as I could. The ship trembled. I imagine that the purpose is to enable the pilot to control the ship even when pressure keeps him from lifting a finger. I feel capable of taking the ship up and landing it again. But unless I can understand the ten dials below the three-dimensional screen, it is obvious that no extended voyage can be made.”

The pressure faded. Bard said, “Have you tried to discover the wiring details behind the dials?”

“Yes. I cannot understand it. And it is so complicated that by memorizing one portion at a time and transmitting that portion to you, I feel that it would take at least one of your years before it would be complete, and then I would have no real assurance that it was entirely accurate.”

“Plus and minus values, eh? How good is your translation of the figures? Is your math equivalent to ours?”

“No. Your interval is ten. Ours is nine. The roughest possible comparison would be to say that your value for twenty is the second digit in our third series.”

“Then the nine plus and nine minus values above and below the zero cover a full simple series. I am always wary of snap judgments, but those dials remind me, unmistakably, of the answer column in any computing device. With ten dials and only plus values alone, you could arrive at our equivalent of one billion. Adding in the minus values, you can achieve a really tremendous series of values. The available numbers could be computed as one billion multiplied by nine hundred and ninety-nine million, nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine. Navigation always assumes known coordinates. Assume, for a moment, that the basic future-past relationship is expressed as plus and minus. Assume further that utilizing the varying frames of temporal reference, it is necessary to cross, at the very most, ten time lines to arrive at the most distant star — the star that, from your position, is equidistant no matter in which direction you start out. Now, for any nearer star, there will be a preferred route. There will be an assumed direction. You will intersect the frames of reference at an assumed point. Thus, your controls should be so set as to take advantage, at the proper fractional part of a second, of your plus-minus, or, more accurately, your future-past distortions. This would mean an index number, starting from your position, for each star — not a fixed index number, but a number which, adjusted by a formula to allow for orbital movement and galactic movement, will give you the setting for the controls. One of the unknowns to fit into the equation before using it is your present value for time on your planet. No. Wait a minute. If I were designing the controls I would use a radiation timing device for accuracy, and have the controls work the formula themselves so that the standard star reference number could always be used.”

“It will have to be that way. It has been centuries since we have maintained any record of elapsed time.”

“The buttons under the dials should be the setting device. The upper button should, with each time you push it, lift your indicator one plus notch. The lower button should drop it, one notch at a time, into the minus values. The final number, placed on the dials, should take you across space to the star for that specific setting. It would be the simplest possible type of control which could be used with the Beatty formulas — far simpler than the one on which we were working. But to use it, you must find somewhere, probably on the ship, a manual which will give you a listing of the values for the stars.”

Bard Lane felt the excitement in Raul Kinson’s thoughts. “A long time ago. Three of your years. Possibly more. I found books printed on thin metallic plates. They did not mean anything to me. Long bi-colored numbers. They were awkward to read compared with the micro-books. I remember the cover design — a stylized pattern of a star and planet system.”

“That could be what you need. But let me make one thing clear. If I’m correct about the controls, and if you should use the wrong setting, you will, in all probability, never be able to find either Earth or your home planet again. You could spend forty lifetimes searching, with the same chance of finding either as of finding two specific motes of dust in the atmosphere of this planet. Make certain that you are quite willing to take the risk.”

Leesa said softly, “Quite willing, Bard.”

“Then find these books again. Study the numbers. See if they will fit the dials. See if you can determine our index number beyond doubt. And then contact me again.”

Pressure on his mind faded quickly. Before it was entirely gone, Bard caught the faint thought: “This dream is ending.”

The two of them were alone in the room. Sharan said softly, “Can he do it? Can he come here?”

He stood up and walked over to the windows. Across the street a couple walked hand in hand under the lights. A line had formed, waiting to get into the video studio.

“What is she like? What are her thoughts like?”

“Like a woman’s.”

“When will they be back?”

“Midnight tomorrow.”

“I’ll be here.”

Ten of the older men were gathered in Jord Orlan’s quarters. They sat stiffly and their eyes glowed. It had taken a long time for Jord Orlan to slowly bring them up to the proper pitch.

“Our world is good,” he chanted.

“Our world is good,” they responded in unison, the half-forgotten instincts rising up within them, hoarsening voices.

“The dreams are good.”

“The dreams are good.”

“And we are the Watchers and we know the Law.”

“Yes, we know the Law.”

Orlan held his arms straight out, his fists clenched. “And they would put an end to the dreams.”