Overload. He had wooed her without thinking of what would happen if she did say, “Yes.” She had.
“And they lived happily ever after.” In Old Books they did, but how could they, in life? He had had eighteen days under-the-wire in the whole of the past year! Yet she had loved him. She still loved him. He knew it. She fretted about him through the long months that he was in the Up-and-Out. She tried to make home mean something to him even when he was haberman, make food pretty when it could not be tasted, make herself lovable when she could not be kissed—or might as well not, since a haberman body meant no more than furniture. Luci was patient.
And now, Adam Stone! (He let his Tablet fade: how could he leave, now?)
God bless Adam Stone?
Martel could not help feeling a little sorry for himself. No longer would the high keen call of duty carry him through two hundred or so years of the Other’s time, two million private eternities of his own. He could slouch and relax. He could forget High Space, and let the Up-and-Out be tended by Others. He could cranch as much as he dared. He could be almost normal—almost—for one year or five years or no years. But at least he could stay with Luci. He could go with her into the Wild, where there were Beasts and Old Machines still roving the dark places. Perhaps he would die in the excitement of the hunt, throwing spears at an ancient Manshonjagger as it leapt from its lair, or tossing hot spheres at the tribesmen of the Unforgiven who still roamed the Wild. There was still life to live, still a good normal death to die, not the moving of a needle out in the silence and pain of Space!
He had been walking about restlessly. His ears were attuned to the sounds of normal speech, so that he did not feel like watching the mouthings of his brethern. Now they seemed to have come to a decision. Vomact was moving to the rostrum. Martel looked about for Chang, and went to stand beside him. Chang whispered.
“You’re as restless as water in midair! What’s the matter? De-cranching?”
They both scanned Martel, but the instruments held steady and showed no sign of the cranch giving out.
The great light flared in its call to attention. Again they formed ranks. Vomact thrust his lean old face into the glare, and spoke:
“Scanners and Brothers, I call for a vote.” He held himself in the stance which meant: “I am the Senior and take Command
.”
A beltlight flashed in protest.
It was old Henderson. He moved to the rostrum, spoke to Vomact, and—with Vomact’s nod of approval—turned full-face to repeat his question:
“Who speaks for the Scanners Out in Space?”
No beltlight or hand answered.
Henderson and Vomact, face to face, conferred for a few moments. Then Henderson faced them again:
“I yield to the Senior in Command. But I do not yield to a Meeting of the Confraternity. There are sixty-eight Scanners, and only forty-seven present, of whom one is cranched and U.D. I have therefore proposed that the Senior in Command assume authority only over an Emergency Committee of the Confraternity, not over a Meeting. Is that agreed and understood by the Honorable Scanners?”
Hands rose in assent.
Chang murmured in Martel’s ear, “Lot of difference that makes! Who can tell the difference between a meeting and a committee?” Martel agreed with the words, but was even more impressed with the way that Chang, while haberman, could control his own voice.
Vomact resumed chairmanship: “We now vote on the question of Adam Stone.
“First, we can assume that he has not succeeded, and that his claims are lies. We know that from our practical experience as Scanners. The Pain of Space is only part of Scanning” (But the essential part, the basis of it all
, thought Martel.) “and we can rest assured that Stone cannot solve the problem of Space Discipline.”
“That tripe again,” whispered Chang, unheard save by Martel.
“The Space Discipline of our Confraternity has kept High Space clean of war and dispute. Sixty-eight disciplined men control all High Space. We are removed by our oath and our haberman status from all Earthly passions.
“Therefore, if Adam Stone has conquered the Pain of Space, so that Others can wreck our Confraternity and bring to Space the trouble and ruin which afflicts Earths, I say that Adam Stone is wrong. If Adam Stone succeeds, Scanners live in Vain!
“Secondly, if Adam Stone has not conquered the Pain of Space, he will cause great trouble in all the Earths. The Instrumentality and the Subchiefs may not give us as many habermans as we need to operate the ships of Mankind. There will be wild stories, and fewer recruits and, worst of all, the Discipline of the Confraternity may relax if this kind of nonsensical heresy is spread around.
“Therefore, if Adam Stone has succeeded, he threatens the ruin of the Confraternity and should die.
“I move the death of Adam Stone.”
And Vomact made the sign, The Honorable Scanners are pleased to vote
.
IV
Martel grabbed wildly for his beltlight. Chang, guessing ahead, had his light out and ready; its bright beam, voting No, shone straight up at the ceiling. Martel got his light out and threw its beam upward in dissent. Then he looked around. Out of the forty-seven present, he could see only five or six glittering.
Two more lights went on. Vomact stood as erect as a frozen corpse. Vomact’s eyes flashed as he stared back and forth over the group, looking for lights. Several more went on. Finally Vomact took the closing stance:
May it please the Scanners to count the vote
.
Three of the older men went up on the rostrum with Vomact. They looked over the room. (Martel thought: These damned ghosts are voting on the life of
