Part 14 (2/2)

No one came down the corridor toward his room to meet him, but as soon as Bart had entered the general living area they all jumped out of hiding with cries of ”Surprise!” and ”Happy birthday!” It wasn't his birthday yet, but he soon understood that a sort of general birthday had been declared in which he was being invited to share.

”It's been ten years since we've had one, Bart,” said Himyar. ”A party, I mean. So we just thought it was time.”

”We could make you an honorary fifteen,” Fay put in. ”Or how about an honorary twenty-four?”

”Have a gla.s.s of wine, Bart,” said someone else.

”Wine?”

”Told you our garden was going to be a success.”

”-oh, give him only a small one! He's too young-”

”-one gla.s.s won't hurt him-”

He realized after a while that some of the people were pa.s.sing around another kind of drug, something they sniffed up into their nostrils. But he stayed with his one gla.s.s of wine, which made him feel just dizzy and high enough to be wary of asking for any more.

The party went on practically all day, with games and jokes and songs. Bart no longer minded when people paired off and vanished for a while, their arms about each other. Their behavior was grownups'

doings now, not something in which he might possibly become involved. He went along with all the partying and had a good time. Still, now and then he caught himself wis.h.i.+ng they would get down to business. Though he didn't know just what their business was.

Twenty-five.

This year his wish seemed to have been granted, for he got the impression of a lot of serious business going on. People were punching at computers and crouched over teaching machines, and in some rooms devices Bart couldn't identify had been set up.

He noticed that Olen's hairline was receding sharply, and wondered if the man had some kind of scalp disease. But he didn't ask.

In a large room away from the usual living area, Bart found Himyar working to form a towering metal sculpture, using a torch that showered and streamed electric flames. With this home-made device Himyar brushed the glowing metal into the shapes he wanted. Parts of the sculpture reminded Bart of flowers in the garden, or, again, of the curves of splashed water that lived momentarily when someone dived into the pool.

They talked for a time, and Himyar showed Bart some paintings Vivian had done. Himyar and Vivian spent most of their time working here or scrounging materials from every part of the s.h.i.+p that they could reach; they had become known as the Artists.

”And Armin's an artist too, I suppose,” said Himyar. ”He's made himself a camera and goes around using it. Well, the s.h.i.+p made some of the component systems for him, and the film.”

”I'd like to see that.”

Twenty-six.

n.o.body was working quite so hard today. Bart found an elaborate game in progress, a contest involving both physical and mental effort, with complicated rules. It had to do with dividing up the regularly occupied territory of the s.h.i.+p between two contending factions or teams who struggled to gain more territory from each other. People sometimes were allowed or compelled to switch sides in the game. The dividing line between the territories was marked with bright tapes stuck on the decks and bulkheads, and moved back and forth as people won or lost at events like Indian wrestling-men were matched against men, girls against girls for the physical struggles-or asking each other difficult questions.

”Bart, be referee. Wasn't his foot off the deck just then?”

”Yep.”

Powerful Kichiro, still limping on his trick knee, smiled and moved the tape into his opponents' territory by a distance of two wall panels.

”Hey, Bart!” It was Armin, approaching with something in his hand. ”You never had a chance to see this.

Here's a picture I took of you at the last birthday party. We'll have to have another one of those sometime.”

Bart looked. ”You hadn't even started with the camera when we had the party. It must have been yesterday when you took this. I mean last year, for you guys.”

”Hm. I guess you're right.”

Twenty-seven.

He found some of the marker tapes still stuck up in place, but the game wasn't being played today and everyone seemed to have forgotten it. He met Fuad and Trac and was a little surprised to see how fat they both looked, with rolls of flesh above their shorts.

He thought of going down the pa.s.sageway that led to the stars again, but there was no breathing equipment in the locker where Basil had kept it earlier.

Baruch and Solon came along and asked what he was doing. They soon explained that the breathing equipment was being used in ”engineering studies” to find out how to reach the more distant parts of the s.h.i.+p.

Bart wanted to know more. They told him of the solid walls and sealed doors that cut off access to those regions, and how the s.h.i.+p refused to discuss letting anyone go there. It had not tried to stop their engineering studies, though; whether it would interfere when they began to break through a wall remained to be seen.

Using explosives aboard a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p was intrinsically dangerous; something important and irreplaceable might be damaged, or a compartment's air might explode into vacuum.

”That's how Ora and Tang were killed. And then I was getting some acid ready to eat through a wall, and it disappeared. I suspect some machine found it and took it away.” Baruch shrugged, fatalistic but still determined. ”But we'll see, we'll see.” He did not sound or look at all discouraged.

Twenty-eight.

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