“Some beings,” said the A-T Officer, “will do anything to keep their beliefs.”
Eleven years beyond Pluto, eight years from her destination, the fourth colony ship to We Made It fell between the stars. Before her the stars were green-white and blue-white, blazing points against nascent black. Behind they were sparse, dying red embers. To the sides the constellations were strangely flattened. The universe was shorter than it had been.
For awhile Jim Davis was very busy. Everyone, including himself, had a throbbing blinding headache. To each patient, Dr. Davis handed a tiny pink pill from the dispenser slot of the huge autodoc which covered the back wall of the infirmary. They milled outside the door waiting for the pills to take effect, looking like a full-fledged mob in the narrow corridor; and then someone thought it would be a good idea to go to the lounge, and everyone followed him. It was an unusually silent mob. Nobody felt like talking while the pain was with them. Even the sound of magnetic sandals was lost in the plastic pile rug.
Steve saw Jim Davis behind him. “Hey, Doc,” he called softly. “How long before the pain stops?”
“Mine's gone away. You got your pills a little after I did, right?”
“Right. Thanks, Doc.”
They didn't take pain well, these people. They were unused to it.
In single file they walked or floated into the lounge. Low-pitched conversations started. People took couches, using the sticky plastic strips on their falling jumpers. Others stood or floated near walls. The lounge was big enough to hold them all in comfort.
Steve wriggled near the ceiling, trying to pull on his sandals.
“I hope they don't try that again,” he heard Sue say. “It hurt.”
“Try what?” Someone Steve didn't recognize, half-listening as he was.
“Whatever they tried. Telepathy, perhaps.”
“No. I don't believe in telepathy. Could they have set up ultrasonic vibrations in the walls?”
Steve had his sandals on. He left the magnets turned off.
“… a cold beer. Do you realize we'll never taste beer again?” Jim Davis' voice.
“I miss waterskiing.” Ann Harrison sounded wistful. “The feel of a pusher unit shoving into the small of your back, the water beating against your feet, the sun…”
Steve pushed himself toward them. “Taboo subject,” he called.
“We're on it anyway,” Jim boomed cheerfully. “Unless you'd rather talk about the alien, which everyone else is doing. I'd rather drop it for the moment. What's your greatest regret at leaving Earth?”
“Only that I didn't stay long enough to really see it.”
“Oh, of course.” Jim suddenly remembered the drinking bulb in his hand. He drank from it, hospitably passed it to Steve.
“This waiting makes me restless,” said Steve. “What are they likely to try next? Shake the ship in Morse code?”
Jim smiled. “Maybe they won't try anything next. They may give up and leave.”
“Oh, I hope not!” said Ann.
“Would that be so bad?”
Steve had a start. What was Jim thinking?
“Of course!” Ann protested. “We've got to find out what they’re like! And think of what they can teach us, Jim!”
When conversation got controversial it was good manners to change the subject. “Say,” said Steve, “I happened to notice the wall was warm when I pushed off. Is that good or bad?”
“That's funny. It should be cold, if anything,” said Jim. “There's nothing out there but starlight. Except—” A most peculiar expression flitted across his face. He drew his feet up and touched the magnetic soles with his fingertips.
“Eeeee! Jim! Jim!”
Steve tried to whirl around and got nowhere. That was Sue! He switched on his shoes, thumped to the floor, and went to help.
Sue was surrounded by bewildered people. They split to let Jim Davis through, and he tried to lead her out of the lounge. He looked frightened. Sue was moaning and thrashing, paying no attention to his efforts.
Steve pushed through to her. “All the metal is heating up,” Davis shouted. “We've got to get her hearing aid out.”
“Infirmary,” Sue shouted.
Four of them took Sue down the hall to the infirmary. She was still crying and struggling feebly when they got her in, but Jim was there ahead of them with a spray hypo. He used it and she went to sleep.
The four watched anxiously as Jim went to work. The autodoc would have taken precious time for diagnosis. Jim operated by hand. He was able to do a fast job, for the tiny instrument was buried just below the skin behind her ear. Still, the scalpel must have burned his fingers before he was done. Steve could feel the growing warmth against the soles of his feet.
Did the aliens know what they were doing?
Did it matter? The ship was being attacked. His ship.
Steve slipped into the corridor and ran for the control room. Running on magnetic soles, he looked like a terrified penguin, but he moved fast. He knew he might be making a terrible mistake; the aliens might be trying desperately to reach the
The shoes burned his feet. He whimpered with the pain, but otherwise ignored it. The air burned in his mouth and throat. Even his teeth were hot.
He had to wrap his shirt around his hands to open the control-room door. The pain in his feet was unbearable; he tore off his sandals and swam to the control board. He kept his shirt over his hands to work the controls. A twist of a large white knob turned the drive on full, and he slipped into the pilot seat before the gentle light pressure could build up.
He turned to the rear-view telescope. It was aimed at the solar system, for the drive could be used for messages at this distance. He set it for short range and began to turn the ship.
The enemy ship glowed in the high infrared.
“It will take longer to heat the crew-carrying section,” reported the Alien Technologies Officer. “They'll have temperature control there.”
“That's all right. When you think they should all be dead, wake up the Telepath and have him check.” The Captain continued to brush his fur, killing time. “You know, if they hadn't been so completely helpless I wouldn't have tried this slow method. I'd have cut the ring free of the motor section first. Maybe I should have done that anyway. Safer.”
The A-T Officer wanted all the credit he could get. “Sir, they couldn't have any big weapons. There isn't room. With a reaction drive, the motor and the fuel tanks take up most of the available space.”
The other ship began to turn away from its tormentor. Its drive end glowed red.
“They're trying to get away,” the Captain said, as the glowing end swung toward them. “Are you sure they can't?”
“Yes, sir. That light drive won't take them anywhere.”
The Captain purred thoughtfully. “What would happen if the light hit our ship?”
“Just a bright light, I think. The lens is flat, so it must be emitting a very wide beam. They'd need a parabolic reflector to be dangerous. Unless—” His ears went straight up.
“Unless what?” The Captain spoke softly, demandingly.
“A laser. But that's all right, sir. They don't have any weapons.”
The Captain sprang at the control board. “Stupid!” he spat. “They don't know weapons from sthondat blood. Weapons Officer! How could a telepath find out what they don't know? WEAPONS OFFICER!”
“Here, sir.”
“Burn—”
An awful light shone in the control dome. The Captain burst into flame, then blew out as the air left through a
