America 2040 - Golden World Part 7

"I don't want to risk any personnel," Rodrick replied. "I'm going to use the admiral and Moprotomorrow. We do need to get one of the things alive, if possible-dead if not. Then we'll know better what we're up against. I'm going down to see Grace Monroe when I leave here to discuss it with her."

Mandy reached for her drink to hide her moment of disappointment. It was comfortable sitting here and talking with Duncan. They never seemed to have any time to talk.

An enlisted crew member brought the coroner's report. There wasn't much information there that Rodrick didn't already know. The only new information was that the marrow had been very efficiently removed from the bones. Very tough tendons were still attached in a few places, but otherwise all flesh had been removed. He shared the report with Mandy. She shuddered as she read, and Rodrick had the desire to go around the desk, take her in his arms, and tell her that it would be all right.

He controlled his urge and stood. "Thanks for the drink."

She didn't want to be alone. Rocky was on duty on the bridge until midnight. "I've finished here. Mind if I tag along? I have been intending to see Grace all day." That last was a lie, but on the way down she'd think of something to ask Grace.

Three levels down, at the very core of the ship, Grace was about to be kissed. She had gone down to help Max Rosen in engineering as soon as she'd heard that all colonists were going to spend the night on the ship. She had a special dinner planned for two, and the sooner Max finished his work, the sooner he'd be able to come to her quarters.

Mainly, the problem was cooling and ventilating the large bays where the colonists were bedded down.

She ran figures through the computer for Max, estimating the caloric heat output of sleeping bodies. Max fed the figures into the climate control center. The colonists never thought about the fact that the comfortable temperature and circulating fresh air didn't just happen naturally. It was also necessary to install temporary water fountains and deploy a great number of emergency chemical toilets.

Max supervised from his office and, everything finished, ran his fingers through his mussed hair and grinned. "You look like you need a drink," he said.

"I happen to have some premixed in my quarters," Grace said.

Max rose and held out his hands. She put her hands in his, and he pulled her to her feet. "I can't wait that long for this," he murmured, and his lips had just touched hers when the soft bong of the opening door jerked Max's head around to see Juke roll in.

"Excuse me, Grace," Juke said. "I just thought I'd better report that morale seems to be very good."

Max's face was contorted with pure agony. "Get out of here, Juke," he growled, while Grace was trying to swallow her laughter, her nice neck straining with the effort, her cheeks bulging. "This is getting to the point where it isn't funny, Grace," Max moaned.

"Well, if you have no further instructions for me, Grace," Juke said, "I will leave you with this thought: When fortune tellers serve instant tea, what do they read?"

Max reached for a heavy wrench and threw it to clang off the door as it closed rapidly behind Juke.

"I'm s-s-s-so-rry, " Grace sputtered, making a great effort to stop giggling. She reached up and put her cool, smooth hands on his cheeks. It had been a long day. His beard was a sharp stubble on herpalms. She drew his head down to hers, and her lips parted. The bong sounded, and Duncan Rodrick said, "Sorry, gang."

Max rolled his eyes and turned. Mandy Miller was looking at Grace with wide eyes. Grace winked and, unseen by the men, gave Mandy the thumb-and-finger circle for okay. Mandy smiled widely. Grace Monroe had chosen. "I checked your quarters and lab, Grace," Rodrick said, "and figured you'd be down here. Your boys are the ones to get us one of those d.a.m.ned underground things. I know Mopro can fry the thing or blast it apart, but can Mopro and the admiral capture one alive?"

"Mopro isn't designed for grasping or holding things," she answered. "But he's very powerful. Given time I could give him new arms. And a tension spring across his back, I think-"

"I don't want to take that much time," Rodrick said. "I want the area to be safe so the scouts can go out looking for whoever built the city the McRaes found. We need the oil team drilling again. Amando wants to get some crops planted as quickly as possible."

"Let me say this," Grace mused. "I'd put the admiral in an arena with a full-grown rogue Bengal tiger with no concern for his safety. Also, he's lightning fast. He could easily stay out of the thing's way. With the right equipment, I think my boys can do the job."

"What will they need?" Rodrick asked.

"I'd say the best idea is the original one-the noose. If the admiral can get the noose around the outside of the creature's snout, Mopro's strong enough to pull it out of the hole. Then I guess it might be possible for the admiral to help guide it into some sort of a cage."

"I think I'll go out and talk it over with the admiral," he said. "Anyone care to come along?"

Rosen looked at Grace. "No, thanks. I'm off to find a private corner where I can kiss this woman without some robot busting in."

Grace laughed and pulled Max along, to go with the captain.

Rodrick looked at Mandy. "You might as well come along. You haven't had much fresh air since we've landed."

In the brief walk down to engineering and then outside, Duncan had found that it was more than pleasing to have Mandy by his side.

Omega's two moons were in one of their rare double-full phases, hanging just over the eastern mountains, casting a discernible double shadow. The admiral, forewarned, waited for them just outside the hatch. The air was summery and balmy, and salty with an ocean breeze. Grace clung to Max's arm and breathed deeply. Mopro's bulk was half-hidden in shadow. Mandy listened as Rodrick talked with the admiral as if the robot were human, then listened to the admiral's suggestions with respectful interest.

The admiral seemed eager to tackle the job and suggested that he could rig a central noose secured four ways to keep the beast anch.o.r.ed in one spot.

Grace said, "Stay out of its reach, Admiral."

"I will, Grace," he promised. "But I don't think the thing could do me any harm, short of soiling my uniform." "Stay out of its reach anyhow," Grace said.

Rodrick looked at the two moons. Interesting patterns on the larger one. Full moons. Lovers' moons.

He could just catch a hint of Mandy's light perfume as she stood beside him.

"I'll get back to my patrol, Captain," the admiral said.

"I've got a drink waiting," Max said. He took Grace's hand, squeezed it. "Captain, how'd you like to perform a marriage?"

"Right now?" Rodrick asked.

"This minute," Max said.

"Max is impetuous," Grace explained, grinning.

"Eden is a country of laws," Rodrick said, with mock solemnity. "First you have to get the license."

"d.a.m.ned red tape," Max growled.

"You can't rush it," Mandy said. "It's an important event. You two are very well liked. Everyone will want to come. You can't just say you're going to get married and not makeplans ."

"Plans I got," Max said, his leer evident to Grace in the bright moonlight.

"Max, take out the papers. Do the planning. When we get things organized a bit, a big wedding will give us our first holiday," Rodrick said.

"It'll give us something to celebrate," Mandy added.

Max grunted and led Grace toward the open hatch. Mandy lingered for just a moment.

"We already have something to celebrate," Rodrick said, wanting to hold her with him for just a little longer. "Did you get the report that Stoner found a piece of metal today?"

"Yes, isn't it wonderful?"

"You two coming?" Grace called from the hatch.

"In a minute," Mandy called back. The admiral and Mopro disappeared around the curve of the ship's hull.

"It's so beautiful," Mandy said, sighing, lifting her face to the moons. Her head-high pose accentuated her mature b.r.e.a.s.t.s. With a sound that was almost a moan Rodrick moved quickly to take her in his arms, and in their mutual hunger and haste her teeth b.u.mped his lip, hard, before their lips found each other.

The kiss lasted only seconds before sanity came to them at the same instant. The parting was as mutual as the coming together, and neither of them could speak. Mandy started walking toward the hatch at the same instant Rodrick took a step. Such a short kiss, and so overwhelmingly complete. Such a short kiss, but long enough for Rocky Miller to reach a conclusion. Rocky had been notified at his post on the bridge that Rodrick was going out the main hatch. He'd noted the light on the panel when the hatch was opened and then, idly, for lack of something better to do on a boring watch, he clicked on the ship's night eyes and was interested to find that the captain was not alone. His eyes narrowed when he recognized his wife. He heard the sappy talk about marriage from the bear, Max Rosen, and was about to turn the night eyes off when Rosen and Grace Monroe went back into the hatch and left Rodrick alone with his loving wife.

He wasn't even surprised by the kiss. He thought,Well, so that's it . He should have known it all along, the way Mandy had been acting. He regretted that he hadn't activated the cameras. It would have been nice to have some solid evidence when the time was right, but he'd probably have other chances to get that.

In the two and a half years of theSpirit of America voyage, he'd had time to talk with key colonists.

Many were people of faith, all of them family people. Even the unmarried ones were family oriented.

Good people, all. If push came to shove, they'd be on his side when they found out that from the very beginning the great Captain Duncan Rodrick had been s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g his first-officer's wife.

SEVEN.

When one hundred rockets fired simultaneously, it was as if theKarl Marx had been struck by a giant fist. Theresita's body was slammed backward into the acceleration couch. For a few minutes it was difficult to breathe. A wisp of her hair fell over one eye, and she had to struggle to lift one hand to brush it away. Her arm had become a ma.s.s eight times its own weight.

There would be other retro-firings. The ship would be slowed, then steered into a long curve, which would eventually reverse her direction and send her back toward Earth.

"All personnel," the captain's voice said. "You will have only ten minutes before the next retro-firing.

Please do not venture far from your a.s.signed place."

Theresita, feeling a furious helplessness, got up and paced the floor. To her surprise a soft bell announced that she had a caller. It was Fedor Novikov.

"We have only a moment," he said. "I come because of our common loyalty to our great leader. Before we fired the rockets, I contacted ground control." He removed his cap and ran his fingers through his thick hair. Even in the climate-controlled atmosphere of the ship, his hair was damp with perspiration.

"They would give me no explanation about our change in orders. I was told to keep radio silence. All broadcasting stations in the Soviet Union have now gone off the air."

"Perhaps the bombs are falling already..." she said.

"No. The Americans are still broadcasting. They have ordered total mobilization." He made a futile motion with hands. "If there is further information, I will share it with you."

"Fedor," she said, as he started to turn. "You don't want to go back."

"What I want personally is not the point," he answered. "I am a soldier of the Soviet Union, and I havemy orders."

"If the bombs fall, there will be no Soviet Union," she said softly. She could sympathize with Novikov; she knew his type well. He had been trained from childhood to obey. The Red Army had been his life since he was twelve years old. Yet she could sense a reluctance in him. He knew as well as she that taking the ship back to partic.i.p.ate in a nuclear war was a waste.

"Fedor," she asked, "how many missiles would it take for the Americans to destroy theKarl Marx ?"

"One direct hit at the hub of the wheel," he said. "We'd be dead in s.p.a.ce, our weapons systems useless, air leaking into s.p.a.ce."

He was searching desperately for a way out. "If I, as a marshal of the Soviet Union, give you a direct order, will you obey?"

He looked at her with dead eyes. "You know as well as I that on board this ship I am the ranking officer."

"Then what do you want?" she demanded. "My blessings in this madness? If you're asking me to agree that we should take this great ship, with one thousand men, women, and children, to her death, you will not have it."

He stiffened. "Women have never understood honor," he said.

She spat. "Honor! Honor, the way men see it, will be in the finger that pushes the b.u.t.ton to send the bombs rocketing down from the s.p.a.ce stations. Where will your honor be when the last child dies of radiation sickness? Will it be with the Americans aboard theSpirit of America when they return from s.p.a.ce to find a sterile world? The entire universe will betheirs , then, Fedor. Theirs and their children's, and their children's children, and a thousand years from now those Americans who own all of s.p.a.ce will remember the Soviet Union as the country that started the last war, the war that killed our planet. Is there honor in that?"

"There is nothing I can do," he said miserably. Then he left.

Nor was there anything she could do; she was only one woman-it was not her fault that the ship was turning back. It was not until after the next course correction, which lasted five minutes, that she felt the cold anger build up. She had been wrong to blame Novikov. Therewas something she could do.

Her bell announced another caller. She was suddenly very popular. This time it was Anton Emin, a bear of a man who was a heavy-construction expert. He was in his mid-thirties. She knew him from several conversations in the lounges and had shared a drink with him and his st.u.r.dy, smiling wife. Ordinarily, his eyes showed laugh crinkles. Now his face was grim.

Behind Emin, to her surprise, was reedy, frail-looking Ilya Salkov, a young lieutenant in the engineering section. And Pavel Simonov, a crusty, grim-faced electronics engineer.

There was no room for all three of her visitors to sit. Theresita stood, too, leaning against one arm of the couch. It was Anton Emin who spoke first. "Ilya has told us that we are going back to Earth."

She nodded. "We have come to you, Comrade Marshal, to ask you to tell us why." His effort to be officiously respectful of her rank only seemed to emphasize his size and strength.

She kept her face expressionless from long habit. In the Kremlin, one never displayed one's personal feelings. It took her perhaps three seconds to decide what she was going to say.

"All Soviet broadcasting stations are silent. The ship has orders to go into position to attack the American missile-launching s.p.a.ce stations." She gave them the news bluntly, forcefully, throwing it into their faces as a challenge. If they were merely curious, that would be the end of it.

"I feared as much," Lieutenant Salkov said, his thin face going pale. He looked toward Anton Emin, who, obviously, had been selected as the spokesman.

"Comrade Marshal," Emin said, "sometimes I have felt that you are not like the others." His face went red. He was Russian, not accustomed to talking openly. Treason was serious.

"Am I different because theothers are male?" she asked, not willing to make it easier for him. If anything was to be done, it would take great bravery to do it.

"d.a.m.n, Anton," Pavel Simonov said forcefully. "Speak. We are dead either way. " After this outburst he glared at Theresita, but his face was pale, too. He swallowed. "Comrade Marshal, we must stop the captain from going back."

"The three of you?" she asked.

"There are others," Emin said, regaining his courage. "And we hope that you will join us. Perhaps if you spoke with the captain-"

Make up your mind, she was thinking.Are you willing to do something, or do you just want me to stick my neck out ? Aloud she said, "Ah. Four of us. And others. What others? The crew is a well-trained military unit. The security forces are well armed." She let contempt iome into her voice, for she knew that talk was cheap. Before she joined, or led, any incipient mutiny, she had to know it would have some chance of success.

"Only security is armed," Salkov said. "Many of them would not fight against comrades. They, too, have husbands or wives and children aboard."

"Going back is useless," Pavel Simonov growled. "By doing so, we abandon the future and all of s.p.a.ce, leaving both to the Americans and the Brazilians."

"Did these splendid ideas come to you just now?" she asked.

"No, comrade," Emin answered. "My ideas did not come to me suddenly. From the beginning there have been those among us who were determined that things were going to be different on a new world."

"Ah," she said. But she was thinking,Perhaps they are men . "There has never been a successful resistance in the Soviet Union. We, those in power, have had the guns, the personnel. Those who have power and influence will keep them. The officers of this ship would kill all of us to keep their positions, even in the face of a nuclear war. Party Commissar Boris Bely always carries an automatic pistol, which shoots soft-tipped bullets at a great muzzle velocity. He has only to hit a man in the arm or leg to kill him.

Do you thinkhe will relinquish power easily? The officers and crew have sworn oaths to obey orders. Thesecurity people are almost all KGB, trained to kill."