Sound of Terror Part 2

"That was a madman's voice," he said. "I made the recording while I was interning at a state inst.i.tution."

"So?"

"Mad with fear," Lambert said. "Pure. Simple. Unadulterated. That was the sound of terror you heard, Johnny. Terror such as few humans have ever known. That man knew such fear he could not remain sane and live with it."

_I had a true wife but I left her ... oh, oh, oh._

"You think Mitch--"

"You said yourself the voices were alike." Lambert pointed out.

"I don't believe it."

"Don't have to," said Lambert, turning from the window. "But I'll tell you something, Johnny. That Ship--" he hooked his thumb out the window--"is a very big toy. Maybe too big."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning it's possible we've reached beyond Man's limitations. Meaning it's possible we've built something too big for a man to handle and stay sane. Maybe we've finally gone too far."

"Maybe."

"I don't insist it's true," said the psychologist. "It's an idea. Fear.

Fear of the unknown, maybe. Too much fear to hold."

"You think I'll crack?" asked Johnny.

The psychologist didn't answer directly. "It's an idea, as I said. I just wanted you to think it over."

"I will," said Johnny. He stood again, his jaw held tight. "Is that all?"

"Yes, Colonel, that's all," said Lambert.

When Johnny left, the psychologist sat in brooding silence, staring morosely at a trail of blue smoke rising from his pipe bowl. He sat there until the afternoon light faded from the desert base. Then he stood in the darkened office, sighed, lit his pipe and went home. He was very tired.

Six weeks later, Johnny Youngbear walked out of the Control blockhouse into the cold desert morning, carrying his helmet under his arm.

He ran his eyes swiftly up the length of Ship II, trying to forget those other eyes staring at his back from the blockhouse. The Ship rippled and gleamed, alive, eager, the thundering power in her belly waiting to be born.

_Oh, you b.i.t.c.h! You beautiful b.i.t.c.h_, Johnny thought. _Pregnant with power like a G.o.ddess with a G.o.d's child. b.i.t.c.h, b.i.t.c.h, b.i.t.c.h! I love you. I hate you. You kill me._

The crew-chief walked by his side. "Nice morning, Colonel," he said.

"Very," said Johnny.

_I had a true wife but I left her ... oh, oh, oh. For you, you beautiful b.i.t.c.h._

"Say something, Colonel?" asked the crew-chief.

"No. Song running through my head," he explained.

"Yeah," the other man chuckled. "I know how it is."

They strapped him into the padded control chair, the controls arranged around him in a neat semicircle, easy to reach.

_This is my day._

They left him. Alone. _Once around lightly._

The loneliness was in his belly, aching like a tumor.

"... read me?" Control's voice in his earphones.

"Loud and clear," he said absently.

"... minus two minutes ... mark!" A different voice. So many different voices. They knew him, they talked to him. But he was alone with his b.i.t.c.h.

_I had a true wife but--_

"... minus one minute ... mark!"

_This is my day I had a true wife--_

"... three ... two ... one ... mark!"

There was the sound of a world dying in his mind, the sound of thunder, the sound of a sun splitting, the sound of a G.o.ddess giving birth, with pain with agony in loneliness.

A giant's fist came from out of nothingness and smashed into his body.

His chest was compressed, his face was flattened, he could not get enough air to breathe. The heavy sledge of acceleration crushed him back into the padded chair, inexorable, implacable, relentless, heavy. His vision clouded in red and he thought he would die. Instead, he spoke into the lip mike, resenting it bitterly.

"Acceleration ... nine gee." He looked at the gauge that shimmered redly before him, disbelieving. "Alt.i.tude 20,000."

He blacked out, sinking helplessly into the black plush night of unawareness. _I had a true I had I had--_

Awakening to pain, he glanced at the gauges. He had been gone only a split second.

"Alt.i.tude 28,000, acceleration pressure dropping."

His face began to resume its normal shape as the acceleration dropped.

"... six gee," he said, and breathing was easier. The giant reluctantly began to withdraw his ma.s.sive fist from Johnny's face.

He tipped a lever, watched the artificial horizon tilt slightly. "Air control surfaces respond," he said. But soon there would be no air for the surfaces to move against, and then he would control by flicking the power that rumbled behind him.

"Alt.i.tude 40,000 ...

"... 85,000 ...