Part 6 (2/2)
”Try s.h.i.+fting Number Two a few centimeters forward,” said Ryerson.
”You crazy?” snorted Sverdlov.Yes, I suppose we're all a bit crazy by now. ”Look, if the deflected stream strikes here, you'll want to bend it down like so and-”
”Never mind.” Ryerson could not be seen to move, in the bulk of his armor, but Sverdlov imagined him turning away with a contemptuous shrug. It took several minutes of tinker-ing for the Krasnan to realize that the Earthling had visual-ized the interplay of forces correctly.
He swallowed. ”You were right,” he emitted.
”Well, let's get it rea.s.sembled,” said Ryerson coldly.
Very good, Earth sn.o.b, sir.Sverdlov attacked the coils for several more minutes. ”Test blast.” Not quite.
Try another setting. ”Test blast. Repeat.” That seemed to be it. ”Give me a milliamp this time . . . A full amp . . . hm-m-m.” The cur-rent had flowed too short a time to heat the ring, but needles wavered wildly.
”We're still getting some deflection,” said Sverdlov. ”Matter of velocity distribution. A certain small percentage of the par-ticles have abnormal velocities and-” He realized he was crouched under Ryerson's hidden eyes babbling the obvious. ”I'll try sliding this one a wee bit more aside. Gimme that vernier wrench-So. One amp test blast, please.”
There was no further response from the instruments. Ryer-son let out a whistling sigh. ”We seem to have done it,” he said.
We?thought Sverdlov.Well, you handed me a few tools!
Aloud: ”We won't know for sure till full thrust is applied.”
”Of course.” Ryerson spoke hesitantly. Sverdlov recognized the tone, it was trying to be warm. Ryerson was over his fit of temper.
Well, I'm not!
”There isn't anything to be done about that except to try it and see, is there?” went on the Earthling.
”And if we still get significant deflection, drag on our suits and crawl back here-maybe a dozen times?
No!”
”Why, that was how we did it before.”
”I'm getting awfully hungry,” said Sverdlov. Suddenly it flared out of him. ”I'm sick of it! I'm sick of being cooped up in my own stink, and yours, I'm sick of the same stupid faces and the same stupid remarks, yes, the same stars even! I've had enough! Get on back inside. I'll stay here and watch under acceleration. If anything goes wrong, I'll be right on the spot to fix it.”
”But-”
Nakamura's voice crackled above the mutter of stars. ”What are you thinking of, Engineer Sverdlov?
Two gravities would pull you off the s.h.i.+p! And we're not maneuverable enough to rescue you.”
”This life line is tested for two thousand kilos,” said the Krasnan. ”It's standard procedure to make direct high-acceler-ation checks on the blast.”
”By automatic instruments.”
”Which we haven't got. Do youknow the system is fully adjusted? Are you so sure there isn't some small c.u.mulative effect, so the thing will quit on you one day when you need it the most?”
Maclaren's tone joined in, dry and somehow remote: ”This is a curious time to think about that.”
”I am the engineer,” said Sverdlov stiffly. ”Read the s.h.i.+p's articles again.”
”Well,” said Nakamura. ”Well, but-”
”It would save time,” said Ryerson. ”Maybe even a few days' worth of time, if the coils really are badly maladjusted.”
”Thanks, Dave,” said Sverdlov clumsily.
”Well,” said Nakamura, ”you have the authority, of course. But I ask you again-”
”All I ask ofyou is two gravities' worth of oof for a few seconds,” interrupted Sverdlov. ”When I'm satisfied this ring will function properly, so we won't have to be forever making stops like this, I'll come inside.”
He hooked his legs about the framework and began reset-ting the instruments clamped onto it. ”Get on back, Dave,” he said.
”Why . . . I thought I would-”
”No need to.”
”But there is! You can't read every dial simultaneously, and if there's work to be done you'll need help.”
”I'll call you if I want you. Give me your tool belt.” Sverdlov took it from reluctant hands and buckled it around himself. ”There is a certain amount of hazard involved, Dave. If I should be unlucky, you're the closest approximation to an en-gineer the s.h.i.+p will have. She can't spare both of us.”
”But why take any risk at all?”
”Because I'm sick of being here! Because I've got to fight back at that black coal or start howling! Now get inside!”
AS he watched the other blocky shape depart him, Sver-dlov thought:I am actually not being very rational, am I now? But who could expect it, a hundred light-years from the sun?
As he made ready, he puzzled over what had driven him. There was the need to wrestle something tangible; and surely to balance on this skeleton of metal, under twice his normal weight, was a challenge.
Beyond that, less important really, was the logic of it: the reasons he had given were sound enough as far as they went, and you could starve to death while proceeding at the pace of caution.
And below it all, he thought, was a dark wish he did not understand. Li-Tsung of Krasna would have told him to live at all costs, sacrifice all the others, to save himself for his planet and the Fellows.h.i.+p. But there were limits. You didn't have to accept Dave's Calvinism-though its unmerciful G.o.d seemed very near this dead star-to swallow the truth that some things were more important than survival. Than even the survival of a cause.
Maybe I'm trying to find out what those things are,he thought confusedly.
He crawled ”up” till his feet were braced on a cross-member, with the terminal accelerator ring by his right ankle but the electroprober dial conveniently near his faceplate. His right hand gripped a vernier wrench, his left drew taut the life line. ”Stand by for blast,” he said into his radio. ”Build up to two gees over a one-minute period, then hold it till I say cut.”
Nothing happened for a while except the crawling of the constellations as gyros brought the s.h.i.+p around.
Good boy, Seiichi! He'd get some escape distance out of even a test blast. ”Stand by,” it said in Sverdlov's earphones. And his weight came back to him, until he felt an exultant straining in the muscles of shoulder and arm and leg and belly; until his heart thudded loud enough to drown out the thin crackling talk of the stars.
The hull was above him now, a giant sphere upheld on twin derricks. Down the middle of each derrick guttered a ghostly blue light, and sparks writhed and fountained at junction points. The constellations shone chill through the electric dis-charge.
Inefficient,thought Sverdlov.The result of reconstruction without adequate instruments. But it's pretty. Like festival fire-works. He remembered a pyrotechnic display once, when he was small. His mother had taken him. They sat on a hired catamaran and watched wonder explode softly above the lake.
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