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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/30971-h.zip b/30971-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..618e5ec --- /dev/null +++ b/30971-h.zip diff --git a/30971-h/30971-h.htm b/30971-h/30971-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d46b575 --- /dev/null +++ b/30971-h/30971-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2703 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Industrial Revolution, by Winston P. Sanders + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; background-color: #FFFFFF; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +.tr {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 2em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: dotted black 1px;} + +.img1 {border:solid 1px; } + +.center {text-align: center;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-right: 0.25em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Industrial Revolution, by Poul William Anderson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Industrial Revolution + +Author: Poul William Anderson + +Illustrator: Leo Summers + +Release Date: January 15, 2010 [EBook #30971] +[This file last updated January 29, 2011] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="tr"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:</p> +<p class="center">This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction September 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p></div> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 366px;"> +<img class="img1" src="images/cover.jpg" width="366" height="490" alt="" title="" +id="coverpage" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_002.jpg" width="400" height="588" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<h1>INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION</h1> +<p> </p> +<p class="center"> +Ever think how deadly a thing it is<br /> +if a machine has amnesia—<br /> +or how easily it can be arranged....<br /> +</p> +<p> </p> +<h2>BY WINSTON P. SANDERS</h2> +<p> </p> +<h3>ILLUSTRATED BY LEO SUMMERS</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>ell, yes," Amspaugh admitted, "it was a unique war in many ways, +including its origin. However, there are so many analogies to other +colonial revolutions—" His words trailed off as usual.</p> + +<p>"I know. Earth's mercantile policies and so forth," said Lindgren. He +fancies himself a student of interplanetary history. This has led to +quite a few arguments since Amspaugh, who teaches in that field, +joined the Club. Mostly they're good. I went to the bar and got myself +another drink, listening as the mine owner's big voice went on:</p> + +<p>"But what began it? When did the asterites first start realizing they +weren't pseudopods of a dozen Terrestrial nations, but a single nation +in their own right? There's the root of the revolution. And it can be +pinned down, too."</p> + +<p>"'Ware metaphor!" cried someone at my elbow. I turned and saw Missy +Blades. She'd come quietly into the lounge and started mixing a gin +and bitters.</p> + +<p>The view window framed her white head in Orion as she moved toward the +little cluster of seated men. She took a fat cigar from her pocket, +struck it on her shoe sole, and added her special contribution to the +blue cloud in the room after she sat down.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," she said. "I couldn't help that. Please go on." Which I +hope relieves you of any fear that she's an Unforgettable Character. +Oh, yes, she's old as Satan now; her toil and guts and conniving make +up half the biography of the Sword; she manned a gun turret at Ceres, +and was mate of the <i>Tyrfing</i> on some of the earliest Saturn runs when +men took their lives between their teeth because they needed both +hands free; her sons and grandsons fill the Belt with their brawling +ventures; she can drink any ordinary man to the deck; she's one of the +three women ever admitted to the Club. But she's also one of the few +genuine ladies I've known in my life.</p> + +<p>"Uh, well," Lindgren grinned at her. "I was saying, Missy, the germ of +the revolution was when the Stations armed themselves. You see, that +meant more than police powers. It implied a degree of sovereignty. +Over the years, the implication grew."</p> + +<p>"Correct." Orloff nodded his bald head. "I remember how the Governing +Commission squalled when the Station managers first demanded the +right. They foresaw trouble. But if the Stations belonging to one +country put in space weapons, what else could the others do?"</p> + +<p>"They should have stuck together and all been firm about refusing to +allow it," Amspaugh said. "From the standpoint of their own best +interests, I mean."</p> + +<p>"They tried to," Orloff replied. "I hate to think how many +communications we sent home from our own office, and the others must +have done the same. But Earth was a long way off. The Station bosses +were close. Inverse square law of political pressure."</p> + +<p>"I grant you, arming each new little settlement proved important," +Amspaugh said. "But really, it expressed nothing more than the first +inchoate stirrings of asteroid nationalism. And the origins of that +are much more subtle and complex. For instance ... er...."</p> + +<p>"You've got to have a key event somewhere," Lindgren insisted. "I say +that this was it."</p> + +<p>A silence fell, as will happen in conversation. I came back from the +bar and settled myself beside Missy. She looked for a while into her +drink, and then out to the stars. The slow spin of our rock had now +brought the Dippers into view. Her faded eyes sought the Pole +Star—but it's Earth's, not our own any more—and I wondered what +memories they were sharing. She shook herself the least bit and said:</p> + +<p>"I don't know about the sociological ins and outs. All I know is, a +lot of things happened, and there wasn't any pattern to them at the +time. We just slogged through as best we were able, which wasn't +really very good. But I can identify one of those wriggling roots for +you, Sigurd. I was there when the question of arming the Stations +first came up. Or, rather, when the incident occurred that led +directly to the question being raised."</p> + +<p>Our whole attention went to her. She didn't dwell on the past as often +as we would have liked.</p> + +<p>A slow, private smile crossed her lips. She looked beyond us again. +"As a matter of fact," she murmured, "I got my husband out of it." +Then quickly, as if to keep from remembering too much:</p> + +<p>"Do you care to hear the story? It was when the Sword was just getting +started. They'd established themselves on SSC 45—oh, never mind the +catalogue number. Sword Enterprises, because Mike Blades' name +suggested it—what kind of name could you get out of Jimmy Chung, even +if he was the senior partner? It'd sound too much like a collision +with a meteorite—so naturally the asteroid also came to be called the +Sword. They began on the borrowed shoestring that was usual in those +days. Of course, in the Belt a shoestring has to be mighty long, and +finances got stretched to the limit. The older men here will know how +much had to be done by hand, in mortal danger, because machines were +too expensive. But in spite of everything, they succeeded. The Station +was functional and they were ready to start business when—"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was no coincidence that the Jupiter craft were arriving steadily +when the battleship came. Construction had been scheduled with this in +mind, that the Sword should be approaching conjunction with the king +planet, making direct shuttle service feasible, just as the chemical +plant went into service. We need not consider how much struggle and +heartbreak had gone into meeting that schedule. As for the battleship, +she appeared because the fact that a Station in just this orbit was +about to commence operations was news important enough to cross the +Solar System and push through many strata of bureaucracy. The heads of +the recently elected North American government became suddenly, fully +aware of what had been going on.</p> + +<p>Michael Blades was outside, overseeing the installation of a receptor, +when his earplug buzzed. He thrust his chin against the tuning plate, +switching from gang to interoffice band. "Mike?" said Avis Page's +voice, "You're wanted up front."</p> + +<p>"Now?" he objected. "Whatever for?"</p> + +<p>"Courtesy visit from the NASS <i>Altair</i>. You've lost track of time, my +boy."</p> + +<p>"What the ... the jumping blue blazes are you talking about? We've had +our courtesy visit. Jimmy and I both went over to pay our respects, +and we had Rear Admiral Hulse here to dinner. What more do they +expect, for Harry's sake?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you remember? Since there wasn't room to entertain his +officers, you promised to take them on a personal guided tour later. I +made the appointment the very next watch. Now's the hour."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, it comes back to me. Yeah. Hulse brought a magnum of +champagne with him, and after so long a time drinking recycled water, +my capacity was shot to pieces. I got a warm glow of good fellowship +on, and offered—Let Jimmy handle it, I'm busy."</p> + +<p>"The party's too large, he says. You'll have to take half of them. +Their gig will dock in thirty minutes."</p> + +<p>"Well, depute somebody else."</p> + +<p>"That'd be rude, Mike. Have you forgotten how sensitive they are about +rank at home?" Avis hesitated. "If what I believe about the mood back +there is true, we can use the good will of high-level Navy personnel. +And any other influential people in sight."</p> + +<p>Blades drew a deep breath. "You're too blinking sensible. Remind me to +fire you after I've made my first ten million bucks."</p> + +<p>"What'll you do for your next ten million, then?" snipped his +secretary-file clerk-confidante-adviser-et cetera.</p> + +<p>"Nothing. I'll just squander the first."</p> + +<p>"Goody! Can I help?"</p> + +<p>"Uh ... I'll be right along." Blades switched off. His ears felt hot, +as often of late when he tangled with Avis, and he unlimbered only a +few choice oaths.</p> + +<p>"Troubles?" asked Carlos Odonaju.</p> + +<p>Blades stood a moment, looking around, before he answered. He was on +the wide end of the Sword, which was shaped roughly like a truncated +pyramid. Beyond him and his half dozen men stretched a vista of pitted +rock, jutting crags, gulf-black shadows, under the glare of +floodlamps. A few kilometers away, the farthest horizon ended, chopped +off like a cliff. Beyond lay the stars, crowding that night which +never ends. It grew very still while the gang waited for his word. He +could listen to his own lungs and pulse, loud in the spacesuit; he +could even notice its interior smell, blend of plastic and oxygen +cycle chemicals, flesh and sweat. He was used to the sensation of +hanging upside down on the surface, grip-soled boots holding him +against that fractional gee by which the asteroid's rotation overcame +its feeble gravity. But it came to him that this was an eerie +bat-fashion way for an Oregon farm boy to stand.</p> + +<p>Oregon was long behind him, though, not only the food factory where he +grew up but the coasts where he had fished and the woods where he had +tramped. No loss. There'd always been too many tourists. You couldn't +escape from people on Earth. Cold and vacuum and raw rock and +everything, the Belt was better. It annoyed him to be interrupted +here.</p> + +<p>Could Carlos take over as foreman? N-no, Blades decided, not yet. A +gas receptor was an intricate piece of equipment. Carlos was a good +man of his hands. Every one of the hundred-odd in the Station +necessarily was. But he hadn't done this kind of work often enough.</p> + +<p>"I have to quit," Blades said. "Secure the stuff and report back to +Buck Meyers over at the dock, the lot of you. His crew's putting in +another recoil pier, as I suppose you know. They'll find jobs for you. +I'll see you here again on your next watch."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>He waved—being half the nominal ownership of this place didn't +justify snobbery, when everyone must work together or die—and stepped +off toward the nearest entry lock with that flowing spaceman's pace +which always keeps one foot on the ground. Even so, he didn't +unshackle his inward-reeling lifeline till he was inside the chamber.</p> + +<p>On the way he topped a gaunt ridge and had a clear view of the balloons +that were attached to the completed receptors. Those that were still +full bulked enormous, like ghostly moons. The Jovian gases that +strained their tough elastomer did not much blur the stars seen +through them; but they swelled high enough to catch the light of the +hidden sun and shimmer with it. The nearly discharged balloons hung +thin, straining outward. Two full ones passed in slow orbit against +the constellations. They were waiting to be hauled in and coupled +fast, to release their loads into the Station's hungry chemical plant. +But there were not yet enough facilities to handle them at once—and +the <i>Pallas Castle</i> would soon be arriving with another—Blades found +that he needed a few extra curses.</p> + +<p>Having cycled through the air lock, he removed his suit and stowed it, +also the heavy gloves which kept him from frostbite as he touched its +space-cold exterior. Tastefully clad in a Navy surplus Long John, he +started down the corridors.</p> + +<p>Now that the first stage of burrowing within the asteroid had been +completed, most passages went through its body, rather than being +plastic tubes snaking across the surface. Nothing had been done thus +far about facing them. They were merely shafts, two meters square, +lined with doorways, ventilator grilles, and fluoropanels. They had no +thermocoils. Once the nickel-iron mass had been sufficiently warmed +up, the waste heat of man and his industry kept it that way. The dark, +chipped-out tunnels throbbed with machine noises. Here and there a +girlie picture or a sentimental landscape from Earth was posted. Men +moved busily along them, bearing tools, instruments, supplies. They +were from numerous countries, those men, though mostly North +Americans, but they had acquired a likeness, a rangy leathery look and +a free-swinging stride, that went beyond their colorful coveralls.</p> + +<p>"Hi, Mike.... How's she spinning?... Hey, Mike, you heard the latest +story about the Martian and the bishop?... Can you spare me a minute? +We got troubles in the separator manifolds.... What's the hurry, Mike, +your batteries overcharged?" Blades waved the hails aside. There was +need for haste. You could move fast indoors, under the low weight +which became lower as you approached the axis of rotation, with no +fear of tumbling off. But it was several kilometers from the gas +receptor end to the people end of the asteroid.</p> + +<p>He rattled down a ladder and entered his cramped office out of breath. +Avis Page looked up from her desk and wrinkled her freckled snub nose +at him. "You ought to take a shower, but there isn't time," she said. +"Here, use my antistinker." She threw him a spray cartridge with a +deft motion. "I got your suit and beardex out of your cabin."</p> + +<p>"Have I no privacy?" he grumbled, but grinned in her direction. She +wasn't much to look at—not ugly, just small, brunette, and +unspectacular—but she was a supernova of an assistant. Make somebody +a good wife some day. He wondered why she hadn't taken advantage of +the situation here to snaffle a husband. A dozen women, all but two of +them married, and a hundred men, was a ratio even more lopsided than +the norm in the Belt. Of course with so much work to do, and with +everybody conscious of the need to maintain cordial relations, sex +didn't get much chance to rear its lovely head. Still—</p> + +<p>She smiled back with the gentleness that he found disturbing when he +noticed it. "Shoo," she said. "Your guests will be here any minute. +You're to meet them in Jimmy's office."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Blades ducked into the tiny washroom. He wasn't any 3V star himself, +he decided as he smeared cream over his face: big, homely, red-haired. +<i>But not something you'd be scared to meet in a dark alley, either,</i> +he added smugly. In fact, there had been an alley in Aresopolis.... +Things were expected to be going so smoothly by the time they +approached conjunction with Mars that he could run over to that sinful +ginful city for a vacation. Long overdue ... whooee! He wiped off his +whiskers, shucked the zipskin, and climbed into the white pants and +high-collared blue tunic that must serve as formal garb.</p> + +<p>Emerging, he stopped again at Avis' desk. "Any message from the +<i>Pallas</i>?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No," the girl said. "But she ought to be here in another two watches, +right on sked. You worry too much, Mike."</p> + +<p>"Somebody has to, and I haven't got Jimmy's Buddhist +ride-with-the-punches attitude."</p> + +<p>"You should cultivate it." She grew curious. The brown eyes lingered +on him. "Worry's contagious. You make me fret about you."</p> + +<p>"Nothing's going to give me an ulcer but the shortage of booze on this +rock. Uh, if Bill Mbolo should call about those catalysts while I'm +gone, tell him—" He ran off a string of instructions and headed for +the door.</p> + +<p>Chung's hangout was halfway around the asteroid, so that one chief or +the other could be a little nearer the scene of any emergency. Not +that they spent much time at their desks. Shorthanded and +undermechanized, they were forever having to help out in the actual +construction. Once in a while Blades found himself harking wistfully +back to his days as an engineer with Solar Metals: good pay, +interesting if hazardous work on flying mountains where men had never +trod before, and no further responsibilities. But most asterites had +the dream of becoming their own bosses.</p> + +<p>When he arrived, the <i>Altair</i> officers were already there, a score of +correct young men in white dress uniforms. Short, squat, and placid +looking, Jimmy Chung stood making polite conversation. "Ah, there," he +said, "Lieutenant Ziska and gentlemen, my partner, Michael Blades, +Mike, may I present—"</p> + +<p>Blades' attention stopped at Lieutenant Ziska. He heard vaguely that +she was the head quartermaster officer. But mainly she was tall and +blond and blue-eyed, with a bewitching dimple when she smiled, and +filled her gown the way a Cellini Venus doubtless filled its casting +mold.</p> + +<p>"Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Blades," she said as if she meant it. +Maybe she did! He gulped for air.</p> + +<p>"And Commander Leibknecht," Chung said across several light-years. +"Commander Leibknecht. <i>Commander Leibknecht.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Oh. Sure. 'Scuse." Blades dropped Lieutenant Ziska's hand in +reluctant haste. "Hardjado, C'mander Leibfraumilch."</p> + +<p>Somehow the introductions were gotten through. "I'm sorry we have to +be so inhospitable," Chung said, "but you'll see how crowded we are. +About all we can do is show you around, if you're interested."</p> + +<p>"Of course you're interested," said Blades to Lieutenant Ziska. "I'll +show you some gimmicks I thought up myself."</p> + +<p>Chung scowled at him. "We'd best divide the party and proceed along +alternate routes," he said, "We'll meet again in the mess for coffee, +Lieutenant Ziska, would you like to—"</p> + +<p>"Come with me? Certainly," Blades said.</p> + +<p>Chung's glance became downright murderous. "I thought—" he began.</p> + +<p>"Sure." Blades nodded vigorously. "You being the senior partner, +you'll take the highest ranking of these gentlemen, and I'll be in +Scotland before you. C'mon, let's get started. May I?" He offered the +quartermistress his arm. She smiled and took it. He supposed that +eight or ten of her fellows trailed them.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The first disturbing note was sounded on the verandah.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image_003.jpg" width="500" height="552" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>They had glanced at the cavelike dormitories where most of the +personnel lived; at the recreation dome topside which made the life +tolerable; at kitchen, sick bay, and the other service facilities; at +the hydroponic tanks and yeast vats which supplied much of the +Station's food; at the tiny cabins scooped out for the top engineers +and the married couples. Before leaving this end of the asteroid, +Blades took his group to the verandah. It was a clear dome jutting +from the surface, softly lighted, furnished as a primitive officers' +lounge, open to a view of half the sky.</p> + +<p>"Oh-h," murmured Ellen Ziska. Unconsciously she moved closer to +Blades.</p> + +<p>Young Lieutenant Commander Gilbertson gave her a somewhat jaundiced +look. "You've seen deep space often enough before," he said.</p> + +<p>"Through a port or a helmet." Her eyes glimmered enormous in the dusk. +"Never like this."</p> + +<p>The stars crowded close in their wintry myriads. The galactic belt +glistened, diamond against infinite darkness. Vision toppled endlessly +outward, toward the far mysterious shimmer of the Andromeda Nebula; +silence was not a mere absence of noise, but a majestic presence, the +seething of suns.</p> + +<p>"What about the observation terrace at Leyburg?" Gilbertson +challenged.</p> + +<p>"That was different," Ellen Ziska said. "Everything was safe and +civilized. This is like being on the edge of creation."</p> + +<p>Blades could see why Goddard House had so long resisted the inclusion of +female officers on ships of the line, despite political pressure at home +and the Russian example abroad. He was glad they'd finally given in. Now +if only he could build himself up as a dashing, romantic type ... But how +long would the <i>Altair</i> stay? Her stopover seemed quite extended already, +for a casual visit in the course of a routine patrol cruise. He'd have to +work fast.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we are pretty isolated," he said. "The Jupiter ships just unload +their balloons, pick up the empties, and head right back for another +cargo."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand how you can found an industry here, when your raw +materials only arrive at conjunction," Ellen said.</p> + +<p>"Things will be different once we're in full operation," Blades +assured her. "Then we'll be doing enough business to pay for a steady +input, transshipped from whatever depot is nearest Jupiter at any +given time."</p> + +<p>"You've actually built this simply to process ... gas?" Gilbertson +interposed. Blades didn't know whether he was being sarcastic or +asking a genuine question. It was astonishing how ignorant +Earthsiders, even space-traveling Earthsiders, often were about such +matters.</p> + +<p>"Jovian gas is rich stuff," he explained. "Chiefly hydrogen and +helium, of course; but the scoopships separate out most of that during +a pickup. The rest is ammonia, water, methane, a dozen important +organics, including some of the damn ... doggonedest metallic +complexes you ever heard of. We need them as the basis of a +chemosynthetic industry, which we need for survival, which we need if +we're to get the minerals that were the reason for colonizing the Belt +in the first place." He waved his hand at the sky. "When we really get +going, we'll attract settlement. This asteroid has companions, waiting +for people to come and mine them. Homeships and orbital stations will +be built. In ten years there'll be quite a little city clustered +around the Sword."</p> + +<p>"It's happened before," nodded tight-faced Commander Warburton of +Gunnery Control.</p> + +<p>"It's going to happen a lot oftener," Blades said enthusiastically. +"The Belt's going to grow!" He aimed his words at Ellen. "This is the +real frontier. The planets will never amount to much. It's actually +harder to maintain human-type conditions on so big a mass, with a +useless atmosphere around you, than on a lump in space like this. And +the gravity wells are so deep. Even given nuclear power, the energy +cost of really exploiting a planet is prohibitive. Besides which, the +choice minerals are buried under kilometers of rock. On a metallic +asteroid, you can find almost everything you want directly under your +feet. No limit to what you can do."</p> + +<p>"But your own energy expenditure—" Gilbertson objected.</p> + +<p>"That's no problem." As if on cue, the worldlet's spin brought the sun +into sight. Tiny but intolerably brilliant, it flooded the dome with +harsh radiance. Blades lowered the blinds on that side. He pointed in +the opposite direction, toward several sparks of equal brightness that +had manifested themselves.</p> + +<p>"Hundred-meter parabolic mirrors," he said. "Easy to make; you spray a +thin metallic coat on a plastic backing. They're in orbit around us, +each with a small geegee unit to control drift and keep it aimed +directly at the sun. The focused radiation charges heavy-duty +accumulators, which we then collect and use for our power source in +all our mobile work."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean you haven't any nuclear generator?" asked Warburton.</p> + +<p>He seemed curiously intent about it. Blades wondered why, but nodded. +"That's correct. We don't want one. Too dangerous for us. Nor is it +necessary. Even at this distance from the sun, and allowing for +assorted inefficiencies, a mirror supplies better than five hundred +kilowatts, twenty-four hours a day, year after year, absolutely free."</p> + +<p>"Hm-m-m. Yes." Warburton's lean head turned slowly about, to rake +Blades with a look of calculation. "I understand that's the normal +power system in Stations of this type. But we didn't know if it was +used in your case, too."</p> + +<p><i>Why should you care?</i> Blades thought.</p> + +<p>He shoved aside his faint unease and urged Ellen toward the dome +railing. "Maybe we can spot your ship, Lieutenant, uh, Miss Ziska. +Here's a telescope. Let me see, her orbit ought to run about so...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>He hunted until the <i>Altair</i> swam into the viewfield. At this distance +the spheroid looked like a tiny crescent moon, dully painted; but he +could make out the sinister shapes of a rifle turret and a couple of +missile launchers. "Have a look," he invited. Her hair tickled his +nose, brushing past him. It had a delightful sunny odor.</p> + +<p>"How small she seems," the girl said, with the same note of wonder as +before. "And how huge when you're aboard."</p> + +<p>Big, all right, Blades knew, and loaded to the hatches with nuclear +hellfire. But not massive. A civilian spaceship carried meteor +plating, but since that was about as useful as wet cardboard against +modern weapons, warcraft sacrificed it for the sake of mobility. The +self-sealing hull was thin magnesium, the outer shell periodically +renewed as cosmic sand eroded it.</p> + +<p>"I'm not surprised we orbited, instead of docking," Ellen remarked. +"We'd have butted against your radar and bellied into your control +tower."</p> + +<p>"Well, actually, no," said Blades. "Even half finished, our dock's big +enough to accommodate you, as you'll see today. Don't forget, we +anticipate a lot of traffic in the future. I'm puzzled why you didn't +accept our invitation to use it."</p> + +<p>"Doctrine!" Warburton clipped.</p> + +<p>The sun came past the blind and touched the officers' faces with +incandescence. Did some look startled, one or two open their mouths as +if to protest and then snap them shut again at a warning look? Blades' +spine tingled. <i>I never heard of any such doctrine,</i> he thought, +<i>least of all when a North American ship drops in on a North American +Station.</i></p> + +<p>"Is ... er ... is there some international crisis brewing?" he +inquired.</p> + +<p>"Why, no." Ellen straightened from the telescope. "I'd say relations +have seldom been as good as they are now. What makes you ask?"</p> + +<p>"Well, the reason your captain didn't—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind," Warburton said. "We'd better continue the tour, if you +please."</p> + +<p>Blades filed his misgivings for later reference. He might have fretted +immediately, but Ellen Ziska's presence forbade that. A sort of Pauli +exclusion principle. One can't have two spins simultaneously, can one? +He gave her his arm again. "Let's go on to Central Control," he +proposed. "That's right behind the people section."</p> + +<p>"You know, I can't get over it," she told him softly. "This miracle +you've wrought. I've never been more proud of being human."</p> + +<p>"Is this your first long space trip?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I was stationed at Port Colorado before the new Administration +reshuffled armed service assignments."</p> + +<p>"They did? How come?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Well, that is, during the election campaign the Social +Justice Party did talk a lot about old-line officers who were too +hidebound to carry out modern policies effectively. But it sounded +rather silly to me."</p> + +<p>Warburton compressed his lips. "I do not believe it is proper for +service officers to discuss political issues publicly," he said like a +machine gun.</p> + +<p>Ellen flushed. "S-sorry, commander."</p> + +<p>Blades felt a helpless anger on her account. He wasn't sure why. What +was she to him? He'd probably never see her again. A hell of an +attractive target, to be sure; and after so much celibacy he was +highly vulnerable; but did she really matter?</p> + +<p>He turned his back on Warburton and his eyes on her—a five thousand +per cent improvement—and diverted her from her embarrassment by +asking, "Are you from Colorado, then, Miss Ziska?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. Toronto."</p> + +<p>"How'd you happen to join the Navy, if I may make so bold?"</p> + +<p>"Gosh, that's hard to say. But I guess mostly I felt so crowded at +home. So, pigeonholed. The world seemed to be nothing but neat little +pigeonholes."</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh. Same here. I was also a square pigeon in a round hole." She +laughed. "Luckily," he added, "Space is too big for compartments."</p> + +<p>Her agreement lacked vigor. The Navy must have been a disappointment +to her. But she couldn't very well say so in front of her shipmates.</p> + +<p>Hm-m-m ... if she could be gotten away from them—"How long will you +be here?" he inquired. His pulse thuttered.</p> + +<p>"We haven't been told," she said.</p> + +<p>"Some work must be done on the missile launchers," Warburton said. +"That's best carried out here, where extra facilities are available if +we need them. Not that I expect we will." He paused. "I hope we won't +interfere with your own operations."</p> + +<p>"Far from it." Blades beamed at Ellen. "Or, more accurately, this kind +of interference I don't mind in the least."</p> + +<p>She blushed and her eyelids fluttered. Not that she was a fluffhead, +he realized. But to avoid incidents, Navy regulations enforced an +inhuman correctness between personnel of opposite sexes. After weeks +in the black, meeting a man who could pay a compliment without risking +court-martial must be like a shot of adrenalin. Better and better!</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?" Warburton persisted. "For instance, won't we be in the +way when the next ship comes from Jupiter?"</p> + +<p>"She'll approach the opposite end of the asteroid," Blades said. +"Won't stay long, either."</p> + +<p>"How long?"</p> + +<p>"One watch, so the crew can relax a bit among those of us who're off +duty. It'd be a trifle longer if we didn't happen to have an empty bag +at the moment. But never very long. Even running under thrust the +whole distance, Jupe's a good ways off. They've no time to waste."</p> + +<p>"When is the next ship due?"</p> + +<p>"The <i>Pallas Castle</i> is expected in the second watch from now."</p> + +<p>"Second watch. I see." Warburton stalked on with a brooding expression +on his Puritan face.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Blades might have speculated about that, but someone asked him why the +Station depended on spin for weight. Why not put in an internal field +generator, like a ship? Blades explained patiently that an Emett large +enough to produce uniform pull through a volume as big as the Sword +was rather expensive. "Eventually, when we're a few megabucks ahead of +the game—"</p> + +<p>"Do you really expect to become rich?" Ellen asked. Her tone was awed. +No Earthsider had that chance any more, except for the great +corporations. "<i>Individually</i> rich?"</p> + +<p>"We can't fail to. I tell you, this is a frontier like nothing since +the Conquistadores. We could very easily have been wiped out in the +first couple of years—financially or physically—by any of a thousand +accidents. But now we're too far along for that. We've got it made, +Jimmy and I."</p> + +<p>"What will you do with your wealth?"</p> + +<p>"Live like an old-time sultan," Blades grinned. Then, because it was +true as well as because he wanted to shine in her eyes: "Mostly, +though, we'll go on to new things. There's so much that needs to be +done. Not simply more asteroid mines. We need farms; timber; parks; +passenger and cargo liners; every sort of machine. I'd like to try +getting at some of that water frozen in the Saturnian System. +Altogether, I see no end to the jobs. It's no good our depending on +Earth for anything. Too expensive, too chancy. The Belt has to be made +completely self-sufficient."</p> + +<p>"With a nice rakeoff for Sword Enterprises," Gilbertson scoffed.</p> + +<p>"Why, sure. Aren't we entitled to some return?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But not so out of proportion as the Belt companies seem to +expect. They're only using natural resources that rightly belong to +the people, and the accumulated skills and wealth of an entire +society."</p> + +<p>"Huh! The People didn't do anything with the Sword. Jimmy and I and +our boys did. No Society was around here grubbing nickel-iron and +riding out gravel storms; we were."</p> + +<p>"Let's leave politics alone," Warburton snapped. But it was mostly +Ellen's look of distress which shut Blades up.</p> + +<p>To everybody's relief, they reached Central Control about then. It was +a complex of domes and rooms, crammed with more equipment than Blades +could put a name to. Computers were in Chung's line, not his. He +wasn't able to answer all of Warburton's disconcertingly sharp +questions.</p> + +<p>But in a general way he could. Whirling through vacuum with a load of +frail humans and intricate artifacts, the Sword must be at once +machine, ecology, and unified organism. Everything had to mesh. A +failure in the thermodynamic balance, a miscalculation in supply +inventory, a few mirrors perturbed out of proper orbit, might spell +Ragnarok. The chemical plant's purifications and syntheses were +already a network too large for the human mind to grasp as a whole, +and it was still growing. Even where men could have taken charge, +automation was cheaper, more reliable, less risky of lives. The +computer system housed in Central Control was not only the brain, but +the nerves and heart of the Sword.</p> + +<p>"Entirely cryotronic, eh?" Warburton commented. "That seems to be the +usual practice at the Stations. Why?"</p> + +<p>"The least expensive type for us," Blades answered. "There's no +problem in maintaining liquid helium here."</p> + +<p>Warburton's gaze was peculiarly intense. "Cryotronic systems are +vulnerable to magnetic and radiation disturbances."</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh. That's one reason we don't have a nuclear power plant. This +far from the sun, we don't get enough emission to worry about. The +asteroid's mass screens out what little may arrive. I know the TIMM +system is used on ships; but if nothing else, the initial cost is more +than we want to pay."</p> + +<p>"What's TIMM?" inquired the <i>Altair's</i> chaplain.</p> + +<p>"Thermally Integrated Micro-Miniaturized," Ellen said crisply. +"Essentially, ultraminiaturized ceramic-to-metal-seal vacuum tubes +running off thermionic generators. They're immune to gamma ray and +magnetic pulses, easily shielded against particule radiation, and +economical of power." She grinned. "Don't tell me there's nothing +about them in Leviticus, Padre!"</p> + +<p>"Very fine for a ship's autopilot," Blades agreed. "But as I said, we +needn't worry about rad or mag units here, we don't mind sprawling a +bit, and as for thermal efficiency, we want to waste some heat. It +goes to maintain internal temperature."</p> + +<p>"In other words, efficiency depends on what you need to effish," Ellen +bantered. She grew grave once more and studied him for a while before +she mused, "The same person who swung a pick, a couple of years ago, +now deals with something as marvelous as this...." He forgot about +worrying.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>But he remembered later, when the gig had left and Chung called him to +his office. Avis came too, by request. As she entered, she asked why.</p> + +<p>"You were visiting your folks Earthside last year," Chung said. +"Nobody else in the Station has been back as recently as that."</p> + +<p>"What can I tell you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure. Background, perhaps. The feel of the place. We don't +really know, out in the Belt, what's going on there. The beamcast news +is hardly a trickle. Besides, you have more common sense in your left +little toe than that big mick yonder has on his entire copperplated +head."</p> + +<p>They seated themselves in the cobwebby low-gee chairs around Chung's +desk. Blades took out his pipe and filled the bowl with his tobacco +ration for today. Wouldn't it be great, he thought dreamily, if this +old briar turned out to be an Aladdin's lamp, and the smoke condensed +into a blonde she-Canadian—?</p> + +<p>"Wake up, will you?" Chung barked.</p> + +<p>"Huh?" Blades started. "Oh. Sure. What's the matter? You look like a +fish on Friday."</p> + +<p>"Maybe with reason. Did you notice anything unusual with that party +you were escorting?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"About one hundred seventy-five centimeters tall, yellow hair, blue +eyes, and some of the smoothest fourth-order curves I ever—"</p> + +<p>"Mike, stop that!" Avis sounded appalled. "This is serious."</p> + +<p>"I agree. She'll be leaving in a few more watches."</p> + +<p>The girl bit her lip. "You're too old for that mooncalf rot and you +know it."</p> + +<p>"Agreed again. I feel more like a bull." Blades made pawing motions on +the desktop.</p> + +<p>"There's a lady present," Chung said.</p> + +<p>Blades saw that Avis had gone quite pale. "I'm sorry," he blurted. "I +never thought ... I mean, you've always seemed like—"</p> + +<p>"One of the boys," she finished for him in a brittle tone. "Sure. +Forget it. What's the problem, Jimmy?"</p> + +<p>Chung folded his hands and stared at them. "I can't quite define +that," he answered, word by careful word. "Perhaps I've simply gone +spacedizzy. But when we called on Admiral Hulse, and later when he +called on us, didn't you get the impression of, well, wariness? Didn't +he seem to be watching and probing, every minute we were together?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't call him a cheerful sort," Blades nodded. "Stiff as +molasses on Pluto. But I suppose ... supposed he's just naturally that +way."</p> + +<p>Chung shook his head. "It wasn't a normal standoffishness. You've +heard me reminisce about the time I was on Vesta with the North +American technical representative, when the Convention was +negotiated."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I've heard that story a few times," said Avis dryly.</p> + +<p>"Remember, that was right after the Europa Incident. We'd come close +to a space war—undeclared, but it would have been nasty. We were +still close. Every delegate went to that conference cocked and primed.</p> + +<p>"Hulse had the same manner."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>A silence fell. Blades said at length, "Well, come to think of it, he +did ask some rather odd questions. He seemed to twist the conversation +now and then, so he could find things out like our exact layout, +emergency doctrine, and so forth. It didn't strike me as significant, +though."</p> + +<p>"Nor me," Chung admitted. "Taken in isolation, it meant nothing. But +these visitors today—Sure, most of them obviously didn't suspect +anything untoward. But that Liebknecht, now. Why was he so interested +in Central Control? Nothing new or secret there. Yet he kept asking +for details like the shielding factor of the walls."</p> + +<p>"So did Commander Warburton," Blades remembered. "Also, he wanted to +know exactly when the <i>Pallas</i> is due, how long she'll stay ... +hm-m-m, yes, whether we have any radio linkage with the outside, like +to Ceres or even the nearest Commission base—"</p> + +<p>"Did you tell him that we don't?" Avis asked sharply.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Shouldn't I have?"</p> + +<p>"It scarcely makes any difference," Chung said in a resigned voice. +"As thoroughly as they went over the ground, they'd have seen what we +do and do not have installed so far."</p> + +<p>He leaned forward. "Why are they hanging around?" he asked. "I was +handed some story about overhauling the missile system."</p> + +<p>"Me, too," Blades said.</p> + +<p>"But you don't consider a job complete till it's been tested. And you +don't fire a test shot, even a dummy, this close to a Station. +Besides, what could have gone wrong? I can't see a ship departing +Earth orbit for a long cruise without everything being in order. And +they didn't mention any meteorites, any kind of trouble, en route. +Furthermore, why do the work here? The Navy yard's at Ceres. We can't +spare them any decent amount of materials or tools or help."</p> + +<p>Blades frowned. His own half-formulated doubts shouldered to the fore, +which was doubly unpleasant after he'd been considering Ellen Ziska. +"They tell me the international situation at home is O.K.," he +offered.</p> + +<p>Avis nodded. "What newsfaxes we get in the mail indicate as much," she +said. "So why this hanky-panky?" After a moment, in a changed voice: +"Jimmy, you begin to scare me a little."</p> + +<p>"I scare myself," Chung said.</p> + +<p>"Every morning when you debeard," Blades said; but his heart wasn't +in it. He shook himself and protested: "Damnation, they're our own +countrymen. We're engaged in a lawful business. Why should they do +anything to us?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe Avis can throw some light on that," Chung suggested.</p> + +<p>The girl twisted her fingers together. "Not me," she said. "I'm no +politician."</p> + +<p>"But you were home not so long ago. You talked with people, read the +news, watched the 3V. Can't you at least give an impression?"</p> + +<p>"N-no—Well, of course the preliminary guns of the election campaign +were already being fired. The Social Justice Party was talking a lot +about ... oh, it seemed so ridiculous that I didn't pay much +attention."</p> + +<p>"They talked about how the government had been pouring billions and +billions of dollars into space, while overpopulation produced crying +needs in America's back yard," Chung said. "We know that much, even in +the Belt. We know the appropriations are due to be cut, now the +Essjays are in. So what?"</p> + +<p>"We don't need a subsidy any longer," Blades remarked. "It'd help a +lot, but we can get along without if we have to, and personally, I +prefer that. Less government money means less government control."</p> + +<p>"Sure," Avis said. "There was more than that involved, however. The +Essjays were complaining about the small return on the investment. Not +enough minerals coming back to Earth."</p> + +<p>"Well, for Jupiter's sake," Blades exclaimed, "what do they expect? We +have to build up our capabilities first."</p> + +<p>"They even said, some of them, that enough reward never would be +gotten. That under existing financial policies, the Belt would go in +for its own expansion, use nearly everything it produced for itself +and export only a trickle to America. I had to explain to several of +my parents' friends that I wasn't really a socially irresponsible +capitalist."</p> + +<p>"Is that all the information you have?" Chung asked when she fell +silent.</p> + +<p>"I ... I suppose so. Everything was so vague. No dramatic events. More +of an atmosphere than a concrete thing."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Still, you confirm my own impression," Chung said. Blades jerked his +undisciplined imagination back from the idea of a Thing, with bug eyes +and tentacles, cast in reinforced concrete, and listened as his +partner summed up:</p> + +<p>"The popular feeling at home has turned against private enterprise. +You can hardly call a corporate monster like Systemic Developments a +private enterprise! The new President and Congress share that mood. We +can expect to see it manifested in changed laws and regulations. But +what has this got to do with a battleship parked a couple of hundred +kilometers from us?"</p> + +<p>"If the government doesn't want the asterites to develop much +further—" Blades bit hard on his pipestem. "They must know we have a +caviar mine here. We'll be the only city in this entire sector."</p> + +<p>"But we're still a baby," Avis said. "We won't be important for years +to come. Who'd have it in for a baby?"</p> + +<p>"Besides, we're Americans, too," Chung said. "If that were a foreign +ship, the story might be different—Wait a minute! Could they be +thinking of establishing a new base here?"</p> + +<p>"The Convention wouldn't allow," said Blades.</p> + +<p>"Treaties can always be renegotiated, or even denounced. But first you +have to investigate quietly, find out if it's worth your while."</p> + +<p>"Hoo hah, what lovely money that'd mean!"</p> + +<p>"And lovely bureaucrats crawling out of every file cabinet," Chung +said grimly. "No, thank you. We'll fight any such attempt to the last +lawyer. We've got a good basis, too, in our charter. If the suit is +tried on Ceres, as I believe it has to be, we'll get a sympathetic +court as well."</p> + +<p>"Unless they ring in an Earthside judge," Avis warned.</p> + +<p>"Yeah, that's possible. Also, they could spring proceedings on us +without notice. We've got to find out in advance, so we can prepare. +Any chance of pumping some of those officers?"</p> + +<p>"'Fraid not," Avis said. "The few who'd be in the know are safely back +on shipboard."</p> + +<p>"We could invite 'em here individually," said Blades. "As a matter of +fact, I already have a date with Lieutenant Ziska."</p> + +<p>"What?" Avis' mouth fell open.</p> + +<p>"Yep," Blades said complacently. "End of the next watch, so she can +observe the <i>Pallas</i> arriving. I'm to fetch her on a scooter." He blew +a fat smoke ring. "Look, Jimmy, can you keep everybody off the porch +for a while then? Starlight, privacy, soft music on the piccolo—who +knows what I might find out?"</p> + +<p>"You won't get anything from <i>her</i>," Avis spat. "No secrets or, or +anything."</p> + +<p>"Still, I look forward to making the attempt. C'mon, pal, pass the +word. I'll do as much for you sometime."</p> + +<p>"Times like that never seem to come for me," Chung groaned.</p> + +<p>"Oh, let him play around with his suicide blonde," Avis said +furiously. "We others have work to do. I ... I'll tell you what, +Jimmy. Let's not eat in the mess tonight. I'll draw our rations and +fix us something special in your cabin."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_004.jpg" width="400" height="436" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>A scooter was not exactly the ideal steed for a knight to convey his +lady. It amounted to little more than three saddles and a locker, set +atop an accumulator-powered gyrogravitic engine, sufficient to lift +you off an asteroid and run at low acceleration. There were no +navigating instruments. You locked the autopilot's radar-gravitic +sensors onto your target object and it took you there, avoiding any +bits of debris which might pass near; but you must watch the distance +indicator and press the deceleration switch in time. If the 'pilot was +turned off, free maneuver became possible, but that was a dangerous +thing to try before you were almost on top of your destination. +Stereoscopic vision fails beyond six or seven meters, and the human +organism isn't equipped to gauge cosmic momenta.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, Ellen was enchanted. "This is like a dream," her voice +murmured in Blades' earplug. "The whole universe, on every side of us. +I could almost reach out and pluck those stars."</p> + +<p>"You must have trained in powered spacesuits at the Academy," he said +for lack of a more poetic rejoinder.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but that's not the same. We had to stay near Luna's night side, +to be safe from solar particles, and it bit a great chunk out of the +sky. And then everything was so—regulated, disciplined—we did what +we were ordered to do, and that was that. Here I feel free. You can't +imagine how free." Hastily: "Do you use this machine often?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, we have about twenty scooters at the Station. They're the +most convenient way of flitting with a load: out to the mirrors to +change accumulators, for instance, or across to one of the companion +rocks where we're digging some ores that the Sword doesn't have. That +kind of work." Blades would frankly rather have had her behind him on +a motorskimmer, hanging on as they careened through a springtime +countryside. He was glad when they reached the main forward air lock +and debarked.</p> + +<p>He was still gladder when the suits were off. Lieutenant Ziska in +dress uniform was stunning, but Ellen in civvies, a fluffy low-cut +blouse and close-fitting slacks, was a hydrogen blast. He wanted to +roll over and pant, but settled for saying, "Welcome back" and holding +her hand rather longer than necessary.</p> + +<p>With a shy smile, she gave him a package. "I drew this before +leaving," she said. "I thought, well, your life is so austere—"</p> + +<p>"A demi of Sandeman," he said reverently. "I won't tell you you +shouldn't have, but I will tell you you're a sweet girl."</p> + +<p>"No, really." She flushed. "After we've put you to so much trouble."</p> + +<p>"Let's go crack this," he said. "The <i>Pallas</i> has called in, but she +won't be visible for a while yet."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>They made their way to the verandah, picking up a couple of glasses +enroute. Bless his envious heart, Jimmy had warned the other boys off +as requested. <i>I hope Avis cooks him a Cordon Bleu dinner</i>, Blades +thought. <i>Nice kid, Avis, if she'd quit trying to ... what? ... mother +me?</i> He forgot about her, with Ellen to seat by the rail.</p> + +<p>The Milky Way turned her hair frosty and glowed in her eyes. Blades +poured the port with much ceremony and raised his glass. "Here's to +your frequent return," he said.</p> + +<p>Her pleasure dwindled a bit. "I don't know if I should drink to that. +We aren't likely to be back, ever."</p> + +<p>"Drink anyway. Gling, glang, gloria!" The rims tinkled together. +"After all," said Blades, "this isn't the whole universe. We'll both +be getting around. See you on Luna?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe."</p> + +<p>He wondered if he was pushing matters too hard. She didn't look at +ease. "Oh, well," he said, "if nothing else, this has been a grand +break in the monotony for us. I don't wish the Navy ill, but if +trouble had to develop, I'm thankful it developed here."</p> + +<p>"Yes—"</p> + +<p>"How's the repair work progressing? Slowly, I hope."</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"You should have some idea, being in QM."</p> + +<p>"No supplies have been drawn."</p> + +<p>Blades stiffened.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" Ellen sounded alarmed.</p> + +<p>"Huh?" <i>A fine conspirator I make, if she can see my emotions on me in +neon capitals!</i> "Nothing. Nothing. It just seemed a little strange, +you know. Not taking any replacement units."</p> + +<p>"I understand the work is only a matter of making certain +adjustments."</p> + +<p>"Then they should've finished a lot quicker, shouldn't they?"</p> + +<p>"Please," she said unhappily. "Let's not talk about it. I mean, there +are such things as security regulations."</p> + +<p>Blades gave up on that tack. But Chung's idea might be worth probing a +little. "Sure," he said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry." He took +another sip as he hunted for suitable words. A beautiful girl, a +golden wine ... and vice versa ... why couldn't he simply relax and +enjoy himself? Did he have to go fretting about what was probably a +perfectly harmless conundrum?... Yes. However, recreation might still +combine with business.</p> + +<p>"Permit me to daydream," he said, leaning close to her. "The Navy's +going to establish a new base here, and the <i>Altair</i> will be assigned +to it."</p> + +<p>"Daydream indeed!" she laughed, relieved to get back to a mere +flirtation. "Ever hear about the Convention of Vesta?"</p> + +<p>"Treaties can be renegotiated," Blades plagiarized.</p> + +<p>"What do we need an extra base for? Especially since the government +plans to spend such large sums on social welfare. They certainly don't +want to start an arms race besides."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Blades nodded. <i>Jimmy's notion did seem pretty thin</i>, he thought with +a slight chill, <i>and now I guess it's completely whiffed.</i> Mostly to +keep the conversation going, he shrugged and said, "My partner—and +me, too, aside from the privilege of your company—wouldn't have +wanted it anyhow. Not that we're unpatriotic, but there are plenty of +other potential bases, and we'd rather keep government agencies out of +here."</p> + +<p>"Can you, these days?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty much. We're under a new type of charter, as a private +partnership. The first such charter in the Belt, as far as I know, +though there'll be more in the future. The Bank of Ceres financed us. +We haven't taken a nickel of federal money."</p> + +<p>"Is that possible?"</p> + +<p>"Just barely. I'm no economist, but I can see how it works. Money +represents goods and labor. Hitherto those have been in mighty short +supply out here. Government subsidies made up the difference, enabling +us to buy from Earth. But now the asterites have built up enough +population and industry that they have some capital surplus of their +own, to invest in projects like this."</p> + +<p>"Even so, frankly, I'm surprised that two men by themselves could get +such a loan. It must be huge. Wouldn't the bank rather have lent the +money to some corporation?"</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth, we have friends who pulled wires for us. Also, it +was done partly on ideological grounds. A lot of asterites would like +to see more strictly home-grown enterprises, not committed to anyone +on Earth. That's the only way we can grow. Otherwise our profits—our +net production, that is—will continue to be siphoned off for the +mother country's benefit."</p> + +<p>"Well," Ellen said with some indignation, "that was the whole reason +for planting asteroid colonies. You can't expect us to set you up in +business, at enormous cost to ourselves—things we might have done at +home—and get nothing but 'Ta' in return."</p> + +<p>"Never fear, we'll repay you with interest," Blades said. "But +whatever we make from our own work, over and above that, ought to stay +here with us."</p> + +<p>She grew angrier. "Your kind of attitude is what provoked the voters +to elect Social Justice candidates."</p> + +<p>"Nice name, that," mused Blades. "Who can be against social justice? +But you know, I think I'll go into politics myself. I'll organize the +North American Motherhood Party."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't be so flippant if you'd go see how people have to live +back there."</p> + +<p>"As bad as here? <i>Whew!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense. You know that isn't true. But bad enough. And you aren't +going to stick in these conditions. Only a few hours ago, you were +bragging about the millions you intend to make."</p> + +<p>"Millions <i>and</i> millions, if my strength holds out," leered Blades, +thinking of the alley in Aresopolis. But he decided that that was then +and Ellen was now, and what had started as a promising little party +was turning into a dismal argument about politics.</p> + +<p>"Let's not fight," he said. "We've got different orientations, and we'd +only make each other mad. Let's discuss our next bottle instead ... at the +Coq d'Or in Paris, shall we say? Or Morraine's in New York."</p> + +<p>She calmed down, but her look remained troubled. "You're right, we are +different," she said low. "Isolated, living and working under +conditions we can hardly imagine on Earth—and you can't really +imagine our problems—yes, you're becoming another people. I hope it +will never go so far that—No. I don't want to think about it." She +drained her glass and held it out for a refill, smiling. "Very well, +sir, when do you next plan to be in Paris?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>An exceedingly enjoyable while later, the time came to go watch the +<i>Pallas Castle</i> maneuver in. In fact, it had somehow gotten past that +time, and they were late; but they didn't hurry their walk aft. Blades +took Ellen's hand; and she raised no objection. Schoolboyish, no +doubt—however, he had reached the reluctant conclusion that for all +his dishonorable intentions, this affair wasn't likely to go beyond +the schoolboy stage. Not that he wouldn't keep trying.</p> + +<p>As they glided through the refining and synthesizing section, which +filled the broad half of the asteroid, the noise of pumps and +regulators rose until it throbbed in their bones. Ellen gestured at +one of the pipes which crossed the corridor overhead. "Do you really +handle that big a volume at a time?" she asked above the racket.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "Didn't I explain before? The pipe's thick because it's +so heavily armored."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you don't use that dreadful word 'cladded.' But why the +armor? High pressure?"</p> + +<p>"Partly. Also, there's an inertrans lining. Jupiter gas is hellishly +reactive at room temperature. The metallic complexes especially; but +think what a witch's brew the stuff is in every respect. Once it's +been refined, of course, we have less trouble. That particular pipe is +carrying it raw."</p> + +<p>They left the noise behind and passed on to the approach control dome +at the receptor end. The two men on duty glanced up and immediately +went back to their instruments. Radio voices were staccato in the air. +Blades led Ellen to an observation port.</p> + +<p>She drew a sharp breath. Outside, the broken ground fell away to space +and the stars. The ovoid that was the ship hung against them, lit by +the hidden sun, a giant even at her distance but dwarfed by the +balloon she towed. As that bubble tried ponderously to rotate, rainbow +gleams ran across it, hiding and then revealing the constellations. +Here, on the asteroid's axis, there was no weight, and one moved with +underwater smoothness, as if disembodied. "Oh, a fairy tale," Ellen +sighed.</p> + +<p>Four sparks flashed out of the boat blisters along the ship's hull. +"Scoopships," Blades told her. "They haul the cargo in, being so much +more maneuverable. Actually, though, the mother vessel is going to +park her load in orbit, while those boys bring in another one ... see, +there it comes into sight. We still haven't got the capacity to keep +up with our deliveries."</p> + +<p>"How many are there? Scoopships, that is."</p> + +<p>"Twenty, but you don't need more than four for this job. They've got +terrific power. Have to, if they're to dive from orbit down into the +Jovian atmosphere, ram themselves full of gas, and come back. There +they go."</p> + +<p>The <i>Pallas Castle</i> was wrestling the great sphere she had hauled from +Jupiter into a stable path computed by Central Control. Meanwhile the +scoopships, small only by comparison with her, locked onto the other +balloon as it drifted close. Energy poured into their drive fields. +Spiraling downward, transparent globe and four laboring spacecraft +vanished behind the horizon. The <i>Pallas</i> completed her own task, +disengaged her towbars, and dropped from view, headed for the dock.</p> + +<p>The second balloon rose again, like a huge glass moon on the opposite +side of the Sword. Still it grew in Ellen's eyes, kilometer by +kilometer of approach. So much mass wasn't easily handled, but the +braking curve looked disdainfully smooth. Presently she could make out +the scoopships in detail, elongated teardrops with the intake gates +yawning in the blunt forward end, cockpit canopies raised very +slightly above.</p> + +<p>Instructions rattled from the men in the dome. The balloon veered +clumsily toward the one free receptor. A derricklike structure +released one end of a cable, which streamed skyward. Things that Ellen +couldn't quite follow in this tricky light were done by the four tugs, +mechanisms of their own extended to make their tow fast to the cable.</p> + +<p>They did not cast loose at once, but continued to drag a little, +easing the impact of centrifugal force. Nonetheless a slight shudder +went through the dome as slack was taken up. Then the job was over. +The scoopships let go and flitted off to join their mother vessel. The +balloon was winched inward. Spacesuited men moved close, preparing to +couple valves together.</p> + +<p>"And eventually," Blades said into the abrupt quietness, "that cargo +will become food, fabric, vitryl, plastiboard, reagents, fuels, a +hundred different things. That's what we're here for."</p> + +<p>"I've never seen anything so wonderful," Ellen said raptly. He laid an +arm around her waist.</p> + +<p>The intercom chose that precise moment to blare: "Attention! +Emergency! All hands to emergency stations! Blades, get to Chung's +office on the double! All hands to emergency stations!"</p> + +<p>Blades was running before the siren had begun to howl.</p> + +<p>Rear Admiral Barclay Hulse had come in person. He stood as if on +parade, towering over Chung. The asterite was red with fury. Avis Page +crouched in a corner, her eyes terrified.</p> + +<p>Blades barreled through the doorway and stopped hardly short of a +collision. "What's the matter?" he puffed.</p> + +<p>"Plenty!" Chung snarled. "These incredible thumble-fumbed oafs—" His +voice broke. <i>When he gets mad, it means something!</i></p> + +<p>Hulse nailed Blades with a glance. "Good day, sir," he clipped. "I +have had to report a regrettable accident which will require you to +evacuate the Station. Temporarily, I hope."</p> + +<p>"Huh?"</p> + +<p>"As I told Mr. Chung and Miss Page, a nuclear missile has escaped us. +If it explodes, the radiation will be lethal, even in the heart of the +asteroid."</p> + +<p>"What ... what—" Blades could only gobble at him.</p> + +<p>"Fortunately, the <i>Pallas Castle</i> is here. She can take your whole +complement aboard and move to a safe distance while we search for the +object."</p> + +<p>"How the <i>devil</i>?"</p> + +<p>Hulse allowed himself a look of exasperation. "Evidently I'll have to +repeat myself to you. Very well. You know we have had to make some +adjustments on our launchers. What you did not know was the reason. +Under the circumstances, I think it's permissible to tell you that +several of them have a new and secret, experimental control system. +One of our missions on this cruise was to carry out field tests. Well, +it turned out that the system is still full of, ah, bugs. Gunnery +Command has had endless trouble with it, has had to keep tinkering the +whole way from Earth.</p> + +<p>"Half an hour ago, while Commander Warburton was completing a +reassembly—lower ranks aren't allowed in the test turrets—something +happened. I can't tell you my guess as to what, but if you want to +imagine that a relay got stuck, that will do for practical purposes. A +missile was released under power. Not a dummy—the real thing. And +release automatically arms the war head."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The news was like a hammerblow. Blades spoke an obscenity. Sweat +sprang forth under his arms and trickled down his ribs.</p> + +<p>"No such thing was expected," Hulse went on. "It's an utter disaster, +and the designers of the system aren't likely to get any more +contracts. But as matters were, no radar fix was gotten on it, and it +was soon too far away for gyrogravitic pulse detection. The thrust +vector is unknown. It could be almost anywhere now.</p> + +<p>"Well, naval missiles are programmed to reverse acceleration if they +haven't made a target within a given time. This one should be back in +less than six hours. If it first detects our ship, everything is all +right. It has optical recognition circuits that identify any North +American warcraft by type, disarm the war head, and steer it home. +But, if it first comes within fifty kilometers of some other +mass—like this asteroid or one of the companion rocks—it will +detonate. We'll make every effort to intercept, but space is big. +You'll have to take your people to a safe distance. They can come back +even after a blast, of course. There's no concussion in vacuum, and +the fireball won't reach here. It's principally an anti-personnel +weapon. But you must not be within the lethal radius of radiation."</p> + +<p>"The hell we can come back!" Avis cried.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_005.jpg" width="400" height="708" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"I beg your pardon?" Hulse said.</p> + +<p>"You imbecile! Don't you know Central Control here is cryotronic?"</p> + +<p>Hulse did not flicker an eyelid. "So it is," he said expressionlessly. +"I had forgotten."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Blades mastered his own shock enough to grate: "Well, we sure haven't. +If that thing goes off, the gamma burst will kick up so many minority +carriers in the transistors that the <i>p</i>-type crystals will act +<i>n</i>-type, and the <i>n</i>-type act <i>p</i>-type, for a whole couple of +microseconds. Every one of 'em will flip simultaneously! The +computers' memory and program data systems will be scrambled beyond +hope of reorganization."</p> + +<p>"Magnetic pulse, too," Chung said. "The fireball plasma will be full +of inhomogeneities moving at several per cent of light speed. Their +electromagnetic output, hitting our magnetic core units, will turn +them from super to ordinary conduction. Same effect, total computer +amnesia. We haven't got enough shielding against it. Your TIMM systems +can take that kind of a beating. Ours can't!"</p> + +<p>"Very regrettable," Hulse said. "You'd have to reprogram everything—"</p> + +<p>"Reprogram what?" Avis retorted. Tears started forth in her eyes. +"We've told you what sort of stuff our chemical plant is handling. We +can't shut it down on that short notice. It'll run wild. There'll be +sodium explosions, hydrogen and organic combustion, n-n-nothing left +here but wreckage!"</p> + +<p>Hulse didn't unbend a centimeter. "I offer my most sincere apologies. +If actual harm does occur, I'm sure the government will indemnify you. +And, of course, my command will furnish what supplies may be needed +for the <i>Pallas Castle</i> to transport you to the nearest Commission +base. At the moment, though, you can do nothing but evacuate and hope +we will be able to intercept the missile."</p> + +<p>Blades knotted his fists. A sudden comprehension rushed up in him and +he bellowed, "There isn't going to be an interception! This wasn't an +accident!"</p> + +<p>Hulse backed a step and drew himself even straighter. "Don't get +overwrought," he advised.</p> + +<p>"You louse-bitten, egg-sucking, bloated faggot-porter! How stupid do +you think we are? As stupid as your Essjay bosses? By heaven, we're +staying! Then see if you have the nerve to murder a hundred people!"</p> + +<p>"Mike ... Mike—" Avis caught his arm.</p> + +<p>Hulse turned to Chung. "I'll overlook that unseemly outburst," he +said. "But in light of my responsibilities and under the provisions of +the Constitution, I am hereby putting this asteroid under martial law. +You will have all personnel aboard the <i>Pallas Castle</i> and at a +minimum distance of a thousand kilometers within four hours of this +moment, or be subject to arrest and trial. Now I have to get back and +commence operations. The <i>Altair</i> will maintain radio contact with +you. Good day." He bowed curtly, spun on his heel, and clacked from +the room.</p> + +<p>Blades started to charge after him. Chung caught his free arm. +Together he and Avis dragged him to a stop. He stood cursing the air +ultraviolet until Ellen entered.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't keep up with you," she panted. "What's happened, Mike?"</p> + +<p>The strength drained from Blades. He slumped into a chair and covered +his face.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Chung explained in a few harsh words. "Oh-h-h," Ellen gasped. She went +to Blades and laid her hands on his shoulders. "My poor Mike!"</p> + +<p>After a moment she looked at the others. "I should report back, of +course," she said, "but I won't be able to before the ship +accelerates. So I'll have to stay with you till afterward. Miss Page, +we left about half a bottle of wine on the verandah. I think it would +be a good idea if you went and got it."</p> + +<p>Avis bridled. "And why not you?"</p> + +<p>"This is no time for personalities," Chung said. "Go on, Avis. You can +be thinking what records and other paper we should take, while you're +on your way. I've got to organize the evacuation. As for Miss Ziska, +well, Mike needs somebody to pull him out of his dive."</p> + +<p>"Her?" Avis wailed, and fled.</p> + +<p>Chung sat down and flipped his intercom to Phone Central. "Get me +Captain Janichevski aboard the <i>Pallas</i>," he ordered. "Hello, Adam? +About that general alarm—"</p> + +<p>Blades raised a haggard countenance toward Ellen's. "You better clear +out, along with the women and any men who don't want to stay," he +said. "But I think most of them will take the chance. They're on a +profit-sharing scheme, they stand to lose too much if the place is +ruined."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"It's a gamble, but I don't believe Hulse's sealed orders extend to +murder. If enough of us stay put, he'll have to catch that thing. He +jolly well knows its exact trajectory."</p> + +<p>"You forget we're under martial law," Chung said, aside to him. "If we +don't go freely, he'll land some PP's and march us off at gunpoint. +There isn't any choice. We've had the course."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand," Ellen said shakily.</p> + +<p>Chung went back to his intercom. Blades fumbled out his pipe and +rolled it empty between his hands. "That missile was shot off on +purpose," he said.</p> + +<p>"What? No, you must be sick, that's impossible!"</p> + +<p>"I realize you didn't know about it. Only three or four officers have +been told. The job had to be done very, very secretly, or there'd be a +scandal, maybe an impeachment. But it's still sabotage."</p> + +<p>She shrank from him. "You're not making sense."</p> + +<p>"Their own story doesn't make sense. It's ridiculous. A new missile +system wouldn't be sent on a field trial clear to the Belt before it'd +had enough tests closer to home to get the worst bugs out. A war-head +missile wouldn't be stashed anywhere near something so unreliable, let +alone be put under its control. The testing ship wouldn't hang around +a civilian Station while her gunnery chief tinkered. And Hulse, +Warburton, Liebknecht, they were asking in <i>such</i> detail about how +radiation-proof we are."</p> + +<p>"I can't believe it. Nobody will."</p> + +<p>"Not back home. Communication with Earth is so sparse and garbled. The +public will only know there was an accident; who'll give a hoot about +the details? We couldn't even prove anything in an asteroid court. The +Navy would say, 'Classified information!' and that'd stop the +proceedings cold. Sure, there'll be a board of inquiry—composed of +naval officers. Probably honorable men, too. But what are they going +to believe, the sworn word of their Goddard House colleague, or the +rantings of an asterite bum?"</p> + +<p>"Mike, I know this is terrible for you, but you've let it go to your +head." Ellen laid a hand over his. "Suppose the worst happens. You'll +be compensated for your loss."</p> + +<p>"Yeah. To the extent of our personal investment. The Bank of Ceres +still has nearly all the money that was put in. We didn't figure to +have them paid off for another ten years. They, or their insurance +carrier, will get the indemnity. And after our fiasco, they won't make +us a new loan. They were just barely talked into it, the first time +around. I daresay Systemic Developments will make them a nice juicy +offer to take this job over."</p> + +<p>Ellen colored. She stamped her foot. "You're talking like a paranoiac. +Do you really believe the government of North America would send a +battleship clear out here to do you dirt?"</p> + +<p>"Not the whole government. A few men in the right positions is all +that's necessary. I don't know if Hulse was bribed or talked into +this. But probably he agreed as a duty. He's the prim type."</p> + +<p>"A duty—to destroy a North American business?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Chung finished at the intercom in time to answer: "Not permanent +physical destruction, Miss Ziska. As Mike suggested, some corporation +will doubtless inherit the Sword and repair the damage. But a private, +purely asterite business ... yes, I'm afraid Mike's right. We are the +target."</p> + +<p>"In mercy's name, why?"</p> + +<p>"From the highest motives, of course," Chung sneered bitterly. "You +know what the Social Justice Party thinks of private capitalism. +What's more important, though, is that the Sword is the first Belt +undertaking not tied to Mother Earth's apron strings. We have no +commitments to anybody back there. We can sell our output wherever we +like. It's notorious that the asterites are itching to build up their +own self-sufficient industries. Quite apart from sentiment, we can +make bigger profits in the Belt than back home, especially when you +figure the cost of sending stuff in and out of Earth's gravitational +well. So certainly we'd be doing most of our business out here.</p> + +<p>"Our charter can't simply be revoked. First a good many laws would +have to be revised, and that's politically impossible. There is still +a lot of individualist sentiment in North America, as witness the +fact that businesses do get launched and that the Essjays did have a +hard campaign to get elected. What the new government wants is +something like the Eighteenth Century English policy toward America. +Keep the colonies as a source of raw materials and as a market for +manufactured goods, but don't let them develop a domestic industry. +You can't come right out and say that, but you can let the situation +develop naturally.</p> + +<p>"Only ... here the Sword is, obviously bound to grow rich and expand +in every direction. If we're allowed to develop, to reinvest our +profits, we'll become the nucleus of independent asterite enterprise. +If, on the other hand, we're wiped out by an unfortunate accident, +there's no nucleus; and a small change in the banking laws is all +that's needed to prevent others from getting started. Q.E.D."</p> + +<p>"I daresay Hulse does think he's doing his patriotic duty," said +Blades. "He wants to guarantee North America our natural resources—in +the long run, maybe, our allegiance. If he has to commit sabotage, too +bad, but it won't cost him any sleep."</p> + +<p>"No!" Ellen almost screamed.</p> + +<p>Chung sagged in his chair. "We're very neatly trapped," he said like +an old man. "I don't see any way out. Think you can get to work now, +Mike? You can assign group leaders for the evacuation—"</p> + +<p>Blades jumped erect. "I can fight!" he growled.</p> + +<p>"With what? Can openers?"</p> + +<p>"You mean you're going to lie down and let them break us?"</p> + +<p>Avis came back. She thrust the bottle into Blades' hands as he paced +the room. "Here you are," she said in a distant voice.</p> + +<p>He held it out toward Ellen. "Have some," he invited.</p> + +<p>"Not with you ... you subversive!"</p> + +<p>Avis brightened noticeably, took the bottle and raised it. "Then +here's to victory," she said, drank, and passed it to Blades.</p> + +<p>He started to gulp; but the wine was too noble, and he found himself +savoring its course down his throat. <i>Why,</i> he thought vaguely, <i>do +people always speak with scorn about Dutch courage? The Dutch have +real guts. They fought themselves free of Spain and free of the ocean +itself; when the French or Germans came, they made the enemy sea their +ally</i>—</p> + +<p>The bottle fell from his grasp. In the weak acceleration, it hadn't +hit the floor when Avis rescued it. "Gimme that, you big +butterfingers," she exclaimed. Her free hand clasped his arm. +"Whatever happens, Mike," she said to him, "we're not quitting."</p> + +<p>Still Blades stared beyond her. His fists clenched and unclenched. The +noise of his breathing filled the room. Chung looked around in +bewilderment; Ellen watched with waxing horror; Avis' eyes kindled.</p> + +<p>"Holy smoking seegars," Blades whispered at last. "I really think we +can swing it."</p> + +<p>Captain Janichevski recoiled. "You're out of your skull!"</p> + +<p>"Probably," said Blades. "Fun, huh?"</p> + +<p>"You can't do this."</p> + +<p>"We can try."</p> + +<p>"Do you know what you're talking about? Insurrection, that's what. +Quite likely piracy. Even if your scheme worked, you'd spend the next +ten years in Rehab—at least."</p> + +<p>"Maybe, provided the matter ever came to trial. But it won't."</p> + +<p>"That's what you think. You're asking me to compound the felony, and +misappropriate the property of my owners to boot." Janichevski shook +his head. "Sorry, Mike. I'm sorry as hell about this mess. But I won't +be party to making it worse."</p> + +<p>"In other words," Blades replied, "you'd rather be party to sabotage. +I'm proposing an act of legitimate self-defense."</p> + +<p>"<i>If</i> there actually is a conspiracy to destroy the Station."</p> + +<p>"Adam, you're a spaceman. You know how the Navy operates. Can you +swallow that story about a missile getting loose by accident?"</p> + +<p>Janichevski bit his lip. The sounds from outside filled the captain's +cabin, voices, footfalls, whirr of machines and clash of doors, as the +<i>Pallas Castle</i> readied for departure. Blades waited.</p> + +<p>"You may be right," said Janichevski at length, wretchedly. "Though +why Hulse should jeopardize his career—"</p> + +<p>"He's not. There's a scapegoat groomed back home, you can be sure. +Like some company that'll be debarred from military contracts for a +while ... and get nice fat orders in other fields. I've kicked around +the System enough to know how that works."</p> + +<p>"If you're wrong, though ... if this is an honest blunder ... then you +risk committing treason."</p> + +<p>"Yeah. I'll take the chance."</p> + +<p>"Not I. No. I've got a family to support," Janichevski said.</p> + +<p>Blades regarded him bleakly. "If the Essjays get away with this stunt, +what kind of life will your family be leading, ten years from now? +It's not simply that we'll be high-class peons in the Belt. But tied +hand and foot to a shortsighted government, how much progress will we +be able to make? Other countries have colonies out here too, remember, +and some of them are already giving their people a freer hand than +we've got. Do you want the Asians, or the Russians, or even the +Europeans, to take over the asteroids?"</p> + +<p>"I can't make policy."</p> + +<p>"In other words, mama knows best. Believe, obey, anything put out by +some bureaucrat who never set foot beyond Luna. Is that your idea of +citizenship?"</p> + +<p>"You're putting a mighty fine gloss on bailing yourself out!" +Janichevski flared.</p> + +<p>"Sure, I'm no idealist. But neither am I a slave," Blades hesitated. +"We've been friends too long, Adam, for me to try bribing you. But if +worst comes to worst, we'll cover for you ... somehow ... and if +contrariwise we win, then we'll soon be hiring captains for our own +ships and you'll get the best offer any spaceman ever got."</p> + +<p>"No. Scram. I've work to do."</p> + +<p>Blades braced himself. "I didn't want to say this. But I've already +informed a number of my men. They're as mad as I am. They're waiting +in the terminal. A monkey wrench or a laser torch makes a pretty fair +weapon. We can take over by force. That'll leave you legally in the +clear. But with so many witnesses around, you'll have to prefer +charges against us later on."</p> + +<p>Janichevski began to sweat.</p> + +<p>"We'll be sent up," said Blades. "But it will still have been worth +it."</p> + +<p>"Is it really that important to you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I admit I'm no crusader. But this is a matter of principle."</p> + +<p>Janichevski stared at the big red-haired man for a long while. +Suddenly he stiffened. "O.K. On that account, and no other, I'll go +along with you."</p> + +<p>Blades wobbled on his feet, near collapse with relief. "Good man!" he +croaked.</p> + +<p>"But I will not have any of my officers or crew involved."</p> + +<p>Blades rallied and answered briskly, "You needn't. Just issue orders +that my boys are to have access to the scoopships. They can install +the equipment, jockey the boats over to the full balloons, and even +couple them on."</p> + +<p>Janichevski's fears had vanished once he made his decision, but now a +certain doubt registered. "That's a pretty skilled job."</p> + +<p>"These are pretty skilled men. It isn't much of a maneuver, not like +making a Jovian sky dive."</p> + +<p>"Well, O.K., I'll take your word for their ability. But suppose the +<i>Altair</i> spots those boats moving around?"</p> + +<p>"She's already several hundred kilometers off, and getting farther +away, running a search curve which I'm betting my liberty—and my +honor; I certainly don't want to hurt my own country's Navy—I'm +betting that search curve is guaranteed not to find the missile in +time. They'll spot the <i>Pallas</i> as you depart—oh, yes, our people +will be aboard as per orders—but no finer detail will show in so +casual an observation."</p> + +<p>"Again, I'll take your word. What else can I do to help?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing you weren't doing before. Leave the piratics to us. I'd +better get back." Blades extended his hand. "I haven't got the words +to thank you, Adam."</p> + +<p>Janichevski accepted the shake. "No reason for thanks. You dragooned +me." A grin crossed his face. "I must confess though, I'm not sorry +you did."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Blades left. He found his gang in the terminal, two dozen engineers +and rockjacks clumped tautly together.</p> + +<p>"What's the word?" Carlos Odonaju shouted.</p> + +<p>"Clear track," Blades said. "Go right aboard."</p> + +<p>"Good. Fine. I always wanted to do something vicious and destructive," +Odonaju laughed.</p> + +<p>"The idea is to prevent destruction," Blades reminded him, and +proceeded toward the office.</p> + +<p>Avis met him in Corridor Four. Her freckled countenance was distorted +by a scowl. "Hey, Mike, wait a minute," she said, low and hurriedly. +"Have you seen La Ziska?"</p> + +<p>"The leftenant? Why, no. I left her with you, remember, hoping you +could calm her down."</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh. She was incandescent mad. Called us a pack of bandits +and—But then she started crying. Seemed to break down completely. I +took her to your cabin and went back to help Jimmy. Only, when I +checked there a minute ago, she was gone."</p> + +<p>"What? Where?"</p> + +<p>"How should I know? But that she-devil's capable of anything to wreck +our chances."</p> + +<p>"You're not being fair to her. She's got an oath to keep."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Avis sweetly. "Far be it from me to prevent her +fulfilling her obligations. Afterward she may even write you an +occasional letter. I'm sure that'll brighten your Rehab cell no end."</p> + +<p>"What can she do?" Blades argued, with an uneasy sense of whistling in +the dark. "She can't get off the asteroid without a scooter, and I've +already got Sam's gang working on all the scooters."</p> + +<p>"Is there no other possibility? The radio shack?"</p> + +<p>"With a man on duty there. That's out." Blades patted the girl's arm.</p> + +<p>"O.K., I'll get back to work. But ... I'll be so glad when this is +over, Mike!"</p> + +<p>Looking into the desperate brown eyes, Blades felt a sudden impulse to +kiss their owner. But no, there was too much else to do. Later, +perhaps. He cocked a thumb upward. "Carry on."</p> + +<p><i>Too bad about Ellen</i>, he thought as he continued toward his office. +<i>What an awful waste, to make a permanent enemy of someone with her +kind of looks. And personality—Come off that stick, you clabberhead! +She's probably the marryin' type anyway.</i></p> + +<p><i>In her shoes, though, what would I do? Not much; they'd pinch my +feet. But—damnation, Avis is right. She's not safe to have running +around loose. The radio shack? Sparks is not one of the few who've +been told the whole story and co-opted into the plan. She could</i>—</p> + +<p>Blades cursed, whirled, and ran.</p> + +<p>His way was clear. Most of the men were still in their dorms, +preparing to leave. He traveled in huge low-gravity leaps.</p> + +<p>The radio shack rose out of the surface near the verandah. Blades +tried the door. It didn't budge. A chill went through him. He backed +across the corridor and charged. The door was only plastiboard—</p> + +<p>He hit with a thud and a grunt, and rebounded with a numbed shoulder. +But it looked so easy for the cops on 3V!</p> + +<p>No time to figure out the delicate art of forcible entry. He hurled +himself against the panel, again and again, heedless of the pain that +struck in flesh and bone. When the door finally, splinteringly gave +way, he stumbled clear across the room beyond, fetched up against an +instrument console, recovered his balance, and gaped.</p> + +<p>The operator lay on the floor, swearing in a steady monotone. He had +been efficiently bound with his own blouse and trousers, which +revealed his predilection for maroon shorts with zebra stripes. There +was a lump on the back of his head, and a hammer lay close by. Ellen +must have stolen the tool and come in here with the thing behind her +back. The operator would have had no reason to suspect her.</p> + +<p>She had not left the sender's chair, not even while the door was under +attack. Only a carrier beam connected the Sword with the <i>Altair</i>. She +continued doggedly to fumble with dials and switches, trying to +modulate it and raise the ship.</p> + +<p>"Praises be ... you haven't had advanced training ... in radio," +Blades choked. "That's ... a long-range set ... pretty special +system—" He weaved toward her. "Come along, now."</p> + +<p>She spat an unladylike refusal.</p> + +<p>Theoretically, Blades should have enjoyed the tussle that followed. +But he was in poor shape at the outset. And he was a good deal worse +off by the time he got her pinioned.</p> + +<p>"O.K.," he wheezed. "Will you come quietly?"</p> + +<p>She didn't deign to answer, unless you counted her butting him in the +nose. He had to yell for help to frog-march her aboard ship.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"<i>Pallas Castle</i> calling NASS <i>Altair</i>. Come in, <i>Altair</i>."</p> + +<p>The great ovoid swung clear in space, among a million cold stars. The +asteroid had dwindled out of sight. A radio beam flickered across +emptiness. Within the hull, the crew and a hundred refugees sat jammed +together. The air was thick with their breath and sweat and waiting.</p> + +<p>Blades and Chung, seated by the transmitter, felt another kind of +thickness, the pull of the internal field. Earth-normal weight dragged +down every movement; the enclosed cabin began to feel suffocatingly +small. <i>We'd get used to it again pretty quickly,</i> Blades thought. +<i>Our bodies would, that is. But our own selves, tied down to Earth +forever—no.</i></p> + +<p>The vision screen jumped to life. "NASS <i>Altair</i> acknowledging <i>Pallas +Castle</i>," said the uniformed figure within.</p> + +<p>"O.K., Charlie, go outside and don't let anybody else enter," Chung +told his own operator.</p> + +<p>The spaceman gave him a quizzical glance, but obeyed. "I wish to +report that evacuation of the Sword is now complete," Chung said +formally.</p> + +<p>"Very good, sir," the Navy face replied. "I'll inform my superiors."</p> + +<p>"Wait, don't break off yet. We have to talk with your captain."</p> + +<p>"Sir? I'll switch you over to—"</p> + +<p>"None of your damned chains of command," Blades interrupted. "Get me +Rear Admiral Hulse direct, toot sweet, or I'll eat out whatever +fraction of you he leaves unchewed. This is an emergency. I've got to +warn him of an immediate danger only he can deal with."</p> + +<p>The other stared, first at Chung's obvious exhaustion, then at the +black eye and assorted bruises, scratches, and bites that adorned +Blades' visage. "I'll put the message through Channel Red at once, +sir." The screen blanked.</p> + +<p>"Well, here we go," Chung said. "I wonder how the food in Rehab is +these days."</p> + +<p>"Want me to do the talking?" Blades asked. Chung wasn't built for +times as hectic as the last few hours, and was worn to a nubbin. He +himself felt immensely keyed up. He'd always liked a good fight.</p> + +<p>"Sure." Chung pulled a crumpled cigarette from his pocket and began to +fill the cabin with smoke. "You have a larger stock of rudeness than +I."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_006.jpg" width="400" height="500" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Presently the screen showed Hulse, rigid at his post on the bridge. +"Good day, gentlemen," he said. "What's the trouble?"</p> + +<p>"Plenty," Blades answered. "Clear everybody else out of there; let +your ship orbit free a while. And seal your circuit."</p> + +<p>Hulse reddened. "Who do you think you are?"</p> + +<p>"Well, my birth certificate says Michael Joseph Blades. I've got some +news for you concerning that top-secret gadget you told us about. You +wouldn't want unauthorized personnel listening in."</p> + +<p>Hulse leaned forward till he seemed about to fall through the screen. +"What's this about a hazard?"</p> + +<p>"Fact. The <i>Altair</i> is in distinct danger of getting blown to bits."</p> + +<p>"Have you gone crazy? Get me the captain of the <i>Pallas</i>."</p> + +<p>"Very small bits."</p> + +<p>Hulse compressed his lips. "All right, I'll listen to you for a short +time. You had better make it worth my while."</p> + +<p>He spoke orders. Blades scratched his back while he waited for the +bridge to be emptied and wondered if there was any chance of a hot +shower in the near future.</p> + +<p>"Done," said Hulse. "Give me your report."</p> + +<p>Blades glanced at the telltale. "You haven't sealed your circuit, +admiral."</p> + +<p>Hulse said angry words, but complied. "Now will you talk?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. This secrecy is for your own protection. You risk court-martial +otherwise."</p> + +<p>Hulse suppressed a retort.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"O.K., here's the word." Blades met the transmitted glare with an +almost palpable crash of eyeballs. "We decided, Mr. Chung and I, that +any missile rig as haywire as yours represents a menace to navigation +and public safety. If you can't control your own nuclear weapons, you +shouldn't be at large. Our charter gives us local authority as peace +officers. By virtue thereof and so on and so forth, we ordered certain +precautionary steps taken. As a result, if that war head goes off, I'm +sorry to say that NASS <i>Altair</i> will be destroyed."</p> + +<p>"Are you ... have you—" Hulse congealed. In spite of everything, he +was a competent officer, Blades decided. "Please explain yourself," he +said without tone.</p> + +<p>"Sure," Blades obliged. "The Station hasn't got any armament, but +trust the human race to juryrig that. We commandeered the scoopships +belonging to this vessel and loaded them with Jovian gas at maximum +pressure. If your missile detonates, they'll dive on you."</p> + +<p>Something like amusement tinged Hulse's shocked expression. "Do you +seriously consider that a weapon?"</p> + +<p>"I seriously do. Let me explain. The ships are orbiting free right +now, scattered through quite a large volume of space. Nobody's aboard +them. What is aboard each one, though, is an autopilot taken from a +scooter, hooked into the drive controls. Each 'pilot has its sensors +locked onto your ship. You can't maneuver fast enough to shake off +radar beams and mass detectors. You're the target object, and there's +nothing to tell those idiot computers to decelerate as they approach +you.</p> + +<p>"Of course, no approach is being made yet. A switch has been put in +every scooter circuit, and left open. Only the meteorite evasion units +are operative right now. That is, if anyone tried to lay alongside one +of those scoopships, he'd be detected and the ship would skitter away. +Remember, a scoopship hasn't much mass, and she does have engines +designed for diving in and out of Jupe's gravitational well. She can +out-accelerate either of our vessels, or any boat of yours, and +out-dodge any of your missiles. You can't catch her."</p> + +<p>Hulse snorted. "What's the significance of this farce?"</p> + +<p>"I said the autopilots were switched off at the moment, as far as +heading for the target is concerned. But each of those switches is +coupled to two other units. One is simply the sensor box. If you +withdraw beyond a certain distance, the switches will close. That is, +the 'pilots will be turned on if you try to go beyond range of the +beams now locked onto you. The other unit we've installed in every +boat is an ordinary two-for-a-dollar radiation meter. If a nuclear +weapon goes off, anywhere within a couple of thousand kilometers, the +switches will also close. In either of those cases, the scoopships +will dive on you.</p> + +<p>"You might knock out a few with missiles, before they strike. +Undoubtedly you can punch holes in them with laser guns. But that +won't do any good, except when you're lucky enough to hit a vital +part. Nobody's aboard to be killed. Not even much gas will be lost, in +so short a time.</p> + +<p>"So to summarize, chum, if that rogue missile explodes, your ship will +be struck by ten to twenty scoopships, each crammed full of +concentrated Jovian air. They'll pierce that thin hull of yours, but +since they're already pumped full beyond the margin of safety, the +impact will split them open and the gas will whoosh out. Do you know +what Jovian air does to substances like magnesium?</p> + +<p>"You can probably save your crew, take to the boats and reach a +Commission base. But your nice battleship will be <i>ganz kaput</i>. Is +your game worth that candle?"</p> + +<p>"You're totally insane! Releasing such a thing—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not permanently. There's one more switch on each boat, connected +to the meteorite evasion unit and controlled by a small battery. When +those batteries run down, in about twenty hours, the 'pilots will be +turned off completely. Then we can spot the scoopships by radar and +pick 'em up. And you'll be free to leave."</p> + +<p>"Do you think for one instant that your fantastic claim of acting +legally will stand up in court?"</p> + +<p>"No, probably not. But it won't have to. Obviously you can't make +anybody swallow your yarn if a <i>second</i> missile gets loose. And as for +the first one, since it's failed in its purpose, your bosses aren't +going to want the matter publicized. It'd embarrass them to no end, +and serve no purpose except revenge on Jimmy and me—which there's no +point in taking, since the Sword would still be privately owned. You +check with Earth, admiral, before shooting off your mouth. They'll +tell you that both parties to this quarrel had better forget about +legal action. Both would lose.</p> + +<p>"So I'm afraid your only choice is to find that missile before it goes +off."</p> + +<p>"And yours? What are your alternatives?" Hulse had gone gray in the +face, but he still spoke stoutly.</p> + +<p>Blades grinned at him. "None whatsoever. We've burned our bridges. We +can't do anything about those scoopships now, so it's no use trying to +scare us or arrest us or whatever else may occur to you. What we've +done is establish an automatic deterrent."</p> + +<p>"Against an, an attempt ... at sabotage ... that only exists in your +imagination!"</p> + +<p>Blades shrugged. "That argument isn't relevant any longer. I do +believe the missile was released deliberately. We wouldn't have done +what we did otherwise. But there's no longer any point in making +charges and denials. You'd just better retrieve the thing."</p> + +<p>Hulse squared his shoulders. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you can send a man to the Station. He'll find the scooters +lying gutted. Send another man over here to the <i>Pallas</i>. He'll find +the scoopships gone. I also took a few photographs of the autopilots +being installed and the ships being cast adrift. Go right ahead. +However, may I remind you that the fewer people who have an inkling of +this little intrigue, the better for all concerned."</p> + +<p>Hulse opened his mouth, shut it again, stared from side to side, and +finally slumped the barest bit. "Very well," he said, biting off the +words syllable by syllable. "I can't risk a ship of the line. Of +course, since the rogue is still farther away than your deterrent +allows the <i>Altair</i> to go, we shall have to wait in space a while."</p> + +<p>"I don't mind."</p> + +<p>"I shall report the full story to my superiors at home ... but +unofficially."</p> + +<p>"Good. I'd like them to know that we asterites have teeth."</p> + +<p>"Signing off, then."</p> + +<p>Chung stirred. "Wait a bit," he said. "We have one of your people +aboard, Lieutenant Ziska. Can you send a gig for her?"</p> + +<p>"She didn't collaborate with us," Blades added. "You can see the +evidence of her loyalty, all over my mug."</p> + +<p>"Good girl!" Hulse exclaimed savagely. "Yes, I'll send a boat. Signing +off."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The screen blanked. Chung and Blades let out a long, ragged breath. +They sat a while trembling before Chung muttered, "That skunk as good +as admitted everything."</p> + +<p>"Sure," said Blades, "But we won't have any more trouble from him."</p> + +<p>Chung stubbed out his cigarette. Poise was returning to both men. +"There could be other attempts, though, in the next few years." He +scowled. "I think we should arm the Station. A couple of laser guns, +if nothing else. We can say it's for protection in case of war. But +it'll make our own government handle us more carefully, too."</p> + +<p>"Well, you can approach the Commission about it." Blades yawned and +stretched, trying to loosen his muscles. "Better get a lot of other +owners and supervisors to sign your petition, though." The next order +of business came to his mind. He rose. "Why don't you go tell Adam the +good news?"</p> + +<p>"Where are you bound?"</p> + +<p>"To let Ellen know the fight is over."</p> + +<p>"Is it, as far as she's concerned?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I'm about to find out. Hope I won't need an armored +escort." Blades went from the cubicle, past the watchful radioman, and +down the deserted passageway beyond.</p> + +<p>The cabin given her lay at the end, locked from outside. The key hung +magnetically on the bulkhead. Blades unlocked the door and tapped it +with his knuckles.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" she called.</p> + +<p>"Me," he said. "May I come in?"</p> + +<p>"If you must," she said freezingly.</p> + +<p>He opened the door and stepped through. The overhead light shimmered +off her hair and limned her figure with shadows. His heart bumped. +"You, uh, you can come out now," he faltered. "Everything's O.K."</p> + +<p>She said nothing, only regarded him from glacier-blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"No harm's been done, except to me and Sparks, and we're not mad," he +groped. "Shall we forget the whole episode?"</p> + +<p>"If you wish."</p> + +<p>"Ellen," he pleaded, "I had to do what seemed right to me."</p> + +<p>"So did I."</p> + +<p>He couldn't find any more words.</p> + +<p>"I assume that I'll be returned to my own ship," she said. He nodded. +"Then, if you will excuse me, I had best make myself as presentable as +I can. Good day, Mr. Blades."</p> + +<p>"What's good about it?" he snarled, and slammed the door on his way +out.</p> + +<p>Avis stood outside the jampacked saloon. She saw him coming and ran to +meet him. He made swab-O with his fingers and joy blazed from her. +"Mike," she cried, "I'm so happy!"</p> + +<p>The only gentlemanly thing to do was hug her. His spirits lifted a bit +as he did. She made a nice armful. Not bad looking, either.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Well," said Amspaugh. "So that's the inside story. How very +interesting. I never heard it before."</p> + +<p>"No, obviously it never got into any official record," Missy said. +"The only announcement made was that there'd been a near accident, +that the Station tried to make counter-missiles out of scoopships, but +that the quick action of NASS <i>Altair</i> was what saved the situation. +Her captain was commended. I don't believe he ever got a further +promotion, though."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you publicize the facts afterwards?" Lindgren wondered. +"When the revolution began, that is. It would've made good +propaganda."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," Missy said. "Too much else had happened since then. +Besides, neither Mike nor Jimmy nor I wanted to do any cheap +emotion-fanning. We knew the asterites weren't any little +pink-bottomed angels, nor the people back sunward a crew of devils. +There were rights and wrongs on both sides. We did what we could in +the war, and hated every minute of it, and when it was over we broke +out two cases of champagne and invited as many Earthsiders as we could +get to the party. They had a lot of love to carry home for us."</p> + +<p>A stillness fell. She took a long swallow from her glass and sat +looking out at the stars.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Lindgren said finally, "I guess that was the worst, fighting +against our own kin."</p> + +<p>"Well, I was better off in that respect than some," Missy conceded. +"I'd made my commitment so long before the trouble that my ties were +nearly all out here. Twenty years is time enough to grow new roots."</p> + +<p>"Really?" Orloff was surprised. "I haven't met you often before, Mrs. +Blades, so evidently I've had a false impression. I thought you were a +more recent immigrant than that."</p> + +<p>"Shucks, no," she laughed. "I only needed six months after the +<i>Altair</i> incident to think things out, resign my commission and catch +the next Belt-bound ship. You don't think I'd have let a man like Mike +get away, do you?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Industrial Revolution, by Poul William Anderson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION *** + +***** This file should be named 30971-h.htm or 30971-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/9/7/30971/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Industrial Revolution + +Author: Poul William Anderson + +Illustrator: Leo Summers + +Release Date: January 15, 2010 [EBook #30971] +[This file last updated January 29, 2011] + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction September + 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. + + + [Illustration] + + + INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION + + + Ever think how deadly a thing it is + if a machine has amnesia-- + or how easily it can be arranged.... + + + BY WINSTON P. SANDERS + + + ILLUSTRATED BY LEO SUMMERS + + * * * * * + + + + +"Well, yes," Amspaugh admitted, "it was a unique war in many ways, +including its origin. However, there are so many analogies to other +colonial revolutions--" His words trailed off as usual. + +"I know. Earth's mercantile policies and so forth," said Lindgren. He +fancies himself a student of interplanetary history. This has led to +quite a few arguments since Amspaugh, who teaches in that field, +joined the Club. Mostly they're good. I went to the bar and got myself +another drink, listening as the mine owner's big voice went on: + +"But what began it? When did the asterites first start realizing they +weren't pseudopods of a dozen Terrestrial nations, but a single nation +in their own right? There's the root of the revolution. And it can be +pinned down, too." + +"'Ware metaphor!" cried someone at my elbow. I turned and saw Missy +Blades. She'd come quietly into the lounge and started mixing a gin +and bitters. + +The view window framed her white head in Orion as she moved toward the +little cluster of seated men. She took a fat cigar from her pocket, +struck it on her shoe sole, and added her special contribution to the +blue cloud in the room after she sat down. + +"Excuse me," she said. "I couldn't help that. Please go on." Which I +hope relieves you of any fear that she's an Unforgettable Character. +Oh, yes, she's old as Satan now; her toil and guts and conniving make +up half the biography of the Sword; she manned a gun turret at Ceres, +and was mate of the _Tyrfing_ on some of the earliest Saturn runs when +men took their lives between their teeth because they needed both +hands free; her sons and grandsons fill the Belt with their brawling +ventures; she can drink any ordinary man to the deck; she's one of the +three women ever admitted to the Club. But she's also one of the few +genuine ladies I've known in my life. + +"Uh, well," Lindgren grinned at her. "I was saying, Missy, the germ of +the revolution was when the Stations armed themselves. You see, that +meant more than police powers. It implied a degree of sovereignty. +Over the years, the implication grew." + +"Correct." Orloff nodded his bald head. "I remember how the Governing +Commission squalled when the Station managers first demanded the +right. They foresaw trouble. But if the Stations belonging to one +country put in space weapons, what else could the others do?" + +"They should have stuck together and all been firm about refusing to +allow it," Amspaugh said. "From the standpoint of their own best +interests, I mean." + +"They tried to," Orloff replied. "I hate to think how many +communications we sent home from our own office, and the others must +have done the same. But Earth was a long way off. The Station bosses +were close. Inverse square law of political pressure." + +"I grant you, arming each new little settlement proved important," +Amspaugh said. "But really, it expressed nothing more than the first +inchoate stirrings of asteroid nationalism. And the origins of that +are much more subtle and complex. For instance ... er...." + +"You've got to have a key event somewhere," Lindgren insisted. "I say +that this was it." + +A silence fell, as will happen in conversation. I came back from the +bar and settled myself beside Missy. She looked for a while into her +drink, and then out to the stars. The slow spin of our rock had now +brought the Dippers into view. Her faded eyes sought the Pole +Star--but it's Earth's, not our own any more--and I wondered what +memories they were sharing. She shook herself the least bit and said: + +"I don't know about the sociological ins and outs. All I know is, a +lot of things happened, and there wasn't any pattern to them at the +time. We just slogged through as best we were able, which wasn't +really very good. But I can identify one of those wriggling roots for +you, Sigurd. I was there when the question of arming the Stations +first came up. Or, rather, when the incident occurred that led +directly to the question being raised." + +Our whole attention went to her. She didn't dwell on the past as often +as we would have liked. + +A slow, private smile crossed her lips. She looked beyond us again. +"As a matter of fact," she murmured, "I got my husband out of it." +Then quickly, as if to keep from remembering too much: + +"Do you care to hear the story? It was when the Sword was just getting +started. They'd established themselves on SSC 45--oh, never mind the +catalogue number. Sword Enterprises, because Mike Blades' name +suggested it--what kind of name could you get out of Jimmy Chung, even +if he was the senior partner? It'd sound too much like a collision +with a meteorite--so naturally the asteroid also came to be called the +Sword. They began on the borrowed shoestring that was usual in those +days. Of course, in the Belt a shoestring has to be mighty long, and +finances got stretched to the limit. The older men here will know how +much had to be done by hand, in mortal danger, because machines were +too expensive. But in spite of everything, they succeeded. The Station +was functional and they were ready to start business when--" + + * * * * * + +It was no coincidence that the Jupiter craft were arriving steadily +when the battleship came. Construction had been scheduled with this in +mind, that the Sword should be approaching conjunction with the king +planet, making direct shuttle service feasible, just as the chemical +plant went into service. We need not consider how much struggle and +heartbreak had gone into meeting that schedule. As for the battleship, +she appeared because the fact that a Station in just this orbit was +about to commence operations was news important enough to cross the +Solar System and push through many strata of bureaucracy. The heads of +the recently elected North American government became suddenly, fully +aware of what had been going on. + +Michael Blades was outside, overseeing the installation of a receptor, +when his earplug buzzed. He thrust his chin against the tuning plate, +switching from gang to interoffice band. "Mike?" said Avis Page's +voice, "You're wanted up front." + +"Now?" he objected. "Whatever for?" + +"Courtesy visit from the NASS _Altair_. You've lost track of time, my +boy." + +"What the ... the jumping blue blazes are you talking about? We've had +our courtesy visit. Jimmy and I both went over to pay our respects, +and we had Rear Admiral Hulse here to dinner. What more do they +expect, for Harry's sake?" + +"Don't you remember? Since there wasn't room to entertain his +officers, you promised to take them on a personal guided tour later. I +made the appointment the very next watch. Now's the hour." + +"Oh, yes, it comes back to me. Yeah. Hulse brought a magnum of +champagne with him, and after so long a time drinking recycled water, +my capacity was shot to pieces. I got a warm glow of good fellowship +on, and offered--Let Jimmy handle it, I'm busy." + +"The party's too large, he says. You'll have to take half of them. +Their gig will dock in thirty minutes." + +"Well, depute somebody else." + +"That'd be rude, Mike. Have you forgotten how sensitive they are about +rank at home?" Avis hesitated. "If what I believe about the mood back +there is true, we can use the good will of high-level Navy personnel. +And any other influential people in sight." + +Blades drew a deep breath. "You're too blinking sensible. Remind me to +fire you after I've made my first ten million bucks." + +"What'll you do for your next ten million, then?" snipped his +secretary-file clerk-confidante-adviser-et cetera. + +"Nothing. I'll just squander the first." + +"Goody! Can I help?" + +"Uh ... I'll be right along." Blades switched off. His ears felt hot, +as often of late when he tangled with Avis, and he unlimbered only a +few choice oaths. + +"Troubles?" asked Carlos Odonaju. + +Blades stood a moment, looking around, before he answered. He was on +the wide end of the Sword, which was shaped roughly like a truncated +pyramid. Beyond him and his half dozen men stretched a vista of pitted +rock, jutting crags, gulf-black shadows, under the glare of +floodlamps. A few kilometers away, the farthest horizon ended, chopped +off like a cliff. Beyond lay the stars, crowding that night which +never ends. It grew very still while the gang waited for his word. He +could listen to his own lungs and pulse, loud in the spacesuit; he +could even notice its interior smell, blend of plastic and oxygen +cycle chemicals, flesh and sweat. He was used to the sensation of +hanging upside down on the surface, grip-soled boots holding him +against that fractional gee by which the asteroid's rotation overcame +its feeble gravity. But it came to him that this was an eerie +bat-fashion way for an Oregon farm boy to stand. + +Oregon was long behind him, though, not only the food factory where he +grew up but the coasts where he had fished and the woods where he had +tramped. No loss. There'd always been too many tourists. You couldn't +escape from people on Earth. Cold and vacuum and raw rock and +everything, the Belt was better. It annoyed him to be interrupted +here. + +Could Carlos take over as foreman? N-no, Blades decided, not yet. A +gas receptor was an intricate piece of equipment. Carlos was a good +man of his hands. Every one of the hundred-odd in the Station +necessarily was. But he hadn't done this kind of work often enough. + +"I have to quit," Blades said. "Secure the stuff and report back to +Buck Meyers over at the dock, the lot of you. His crew's putting in +another recoil pier, as I suppose you know. They'll find jobs for you. +I'll see you here again on your next watch." + + * * * * * + +He waved--being half the nominal ownership of this place didn't +justify snobbery, when everyone must work together or die--and stepped +off toward the nearest entry lock with that flowing spaceman's pace +which always keeps one foot on the ground. Even so, he didn't +unshackle his inward-reeling lifeline till he was inside the chamber. + +On the way he topped a gaunt ridge and had a clear view of the balloons +that were attached to the completed receptors. Those that were still +full bulked enormous, like ghostly moons. The Jovian gases that +strained their tough elastomer did not much blur the stars seen +through them; but they swelled high enough to catch the light of the +hidden sun and shimmer with it. The nearly discharged balloons hung +thin, straining outward. Two full ones passed in slow orbit against +the constellations. They were waiting to be hauled in and coupled +fast, to release their loads into the Station's hungry chemical plant. +But there were not yet enough facilities to handle them at once--and +the _Pallas Castle_ would soon be arriving with another--Blades found +that he needed a few extra curses. + +Having cycled through the air lock, he removed his suit and stowed it, +also the heavy gloves which kept him from frostbite as he touched its +space-cold exterior. Tastefully clad in a Navy surplus Long John, he +started down the corridors. + +Now that the first stage of burrowing within the asteroid had been +completed, most passages went through its body, rather than being +plastic tubes snaking across the surface. Nothing had been done thus +far about facing them. They were merely shafts, two meters square, +lined with doorways, ventilator grilles, and fluoropanels. They had no +thermocoils. Once the nickel-iron mass had been sufficiently warmed +up, the waste heat of man and his industry kept it that way. The dark, +chipped-out tunnels throbbed with machine noises. Here and there a +girlie picture or a sentimental landscape from Earth was posted. Men +moved busily along them, bearing tools, instruments, supplies. They +were from numerous countries, those men, though mostly North +Americans, but they had acquired a likeness, a rangy leathery look and +a free-swinging stride, that went beyond their colorful coveralls. + +"Hi, Mike.... How's she spinning?... Hey, Mike, you heard the latest +story about the Martian and the bishop?... Can you spare me a minute? +We got troubles in the separator manifolds.... What's the hurry, Mike, +your batteries overcharged?" Blades waved the hails aside. There was +need for haste. You could move fast indoors, under the low weight +which became lower as you approached the axis of rotation, with no +fear of tumbling off. But it was several kilometers from the gas +receptor end to the people end of the asteroid. + +He rattled down a ladder and entered his cramped office out of breath. +Avis Page looked up from her desk and wrinkled her freckled snub nose +at him. "You ought to take a shower, but there isn't time," she said. +"Here, use my antistinker." She threw him a spray cartridge with a +deft motion. "I got your suit and beardex out of your cabin." + +"Have I no privacy?" he grumbled, but grinned in her direction. She +wasn't much to look at--not ugly, just small, brunette, and +unspectacular--but she was a supernova of an assistant. Make somebody +a good wife some day. He wondered why she hadn't taken advantage of +the situation here to snaffle a husband. A dozen women, all but two of +them married, and a hundred men, was a ratio even more lopsided than +the norm in the Belt. Of course with so much work to do, and with +everybody conscious of the need to maintain cordial relations, sex +didn't get much chance to rear its lovely head. Still-- + +She smiled back with the gentleness that he found disturbing when he +noticed it. "Shoo," she said. "Your guests will be here any minute. +You're to meet them in Jimmy's office." + + * * * * * + +Blades ducked into the tiny washroom. He wasn't any 3V star himself, +he decided as he smeared cream over his face: big, homely, red-haired. +_But not something you'd be scared to meet in a dark alley, either,_ +he added smugly. In fact, there had been an alley in Aresopolis.... +Things were expected to be going so smoothly by the time they +approached conjunction with Mars that he could run over to that sinful +ginful city for a vacation. Long overdue ... whooee! He wiped off his +whiskers, shucked the zipskin, and climbed into the white pants and +high-collared blue tunic that must serve as formal garb. + +Emerging, he stopped again at Avis' desk. "Any message from the +_Pallas_?" he asked. + +"No," the girl said. "But she ought to be here in another two watches, +right on sked. You worry too much, Mike." + +"Somebody has to, and I haven't got Jimmy's Buddhist +ride-with-the-punches attitude." + +"You should cultivate it." She grew curious. The brown eyes lingered +on him. "Worry's contagious. You make me fret about you." + +"Nothing's going to give me an ulcer but the shortage of booze on this +rock. Uh, if Bill Mbolo should call about those catalysts while I'm +gone, tell him--" He ran off a string of instructions and headed for +the door. + +Chung's hangout was halfway around the asteroid, so that one chief or +the other could be a little nearer the scene of any emergency. Not +that they spent much time at their desks. Shorthanded and +undermechanized, they were forever having to help out in the actual +construction. Once in a while Blades found himself harking wistfully +back to his days as an engineer with Solar Metals: good pay, +interesting if hazardous work on flying mountains where men had never +trod before, and no further responsibilities. But most asterites had +the dream of becoming their own bosses. + +When he arrived, the _Altair_ officers were already there, a score of +correct young men in white dress uniforms. Short, squat, and placid +looking, Jimmy Chung stood making polite conversation. "Ah, there," he +said, "Lieutenant Ziska and gentlemen, my partner, Michael Blades, +Mike, may I present--" + +Blades' attention stopped at Lieutenant Ziska. He heard vaguely that +she was the head quartermaster officer. But mainly she was tall and +blond and blue-eyed, with a bewitching dimple when she smiled, and +filled her gown the way a Cellini Venus doubtless filled its casting +mold. + +"Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Blades," she said as if she meant it. +Maybe she did! He gulped for air. + +"And Commander Leibknecht," Chung said across several light-years. +"Commander Leibknecht. _Commander Leibknecht._" + +"Oh. Sure. 'Scuse." Blades dropped Lieutenant Ziska's hand in +reluctant haste. "Hardjado, C'mander Leibfraumilch." + +Somehow the introductions were gotten through. "I'm sorry we have to +be so inhospitable," Chung said, "but you'll see how crowded we are. +About all we can do is show you around, if you're interested." + +"Of course you're interested," said Blades to Lieutenant Ziska. "I'll +show you some gimmicks I thought up myself." + +Chung scowled at him. "We'd best divide the party and proceed along +alternate routes," he said, "We'll meet again in the mess for coffee, +Lieutenant Ziska, would you like to--" + +"Come with me? Certainly," Blades said. + +Chung's glance became downright murderous. "I thought--" he began. + +"Sure." Blades nodded vigorously. "You being the senior partner, +you'll take the highest ranking of these gentlemen, and I'll be in +Scotland before you. C'mon, let's get started. May I?" He offered the +quartermistress his arm. She smiled and took it. He supposed that +eight or ten of her fellows trailed them. + + * * * * * + +The first disturbing note was sounded on the verandah. + +[Illustration] + +They had glanced at the cavelike dormitories where most of the +personnel lived; at the recreation dome topside which made the life +tolerable; at kitchen, sick bay, and the other service facilities; at +the hydroponic tanks and yeast vats which supplied much of the +Station's food; at the tiny cabins scooped out for the top engineers +and the married couples. Before leaving this end of the asteroid, +Blades took his group to the verandah. It was a clear dome jutting +from the surface, softly lighted, furnished as a primitive officers' +lounge, open to a view of half the sky. + +"Oh-h," murmured Ellen Ziska. Unconsciously she moved closer to +Blades. + +Young Lieutenant Commander Gilbertson gave her a somewhat jaundiced +look. "You've seen deep space often enough before," he said. + +"Through a port or a helmet." Her eyes glimmered enormous in the dusk. +"Never like this." + +The stars crowded close in their wintry myriads. The galactic belt +glistened, diamond against infinite darkness. Vision toppled endlessly +outward, toward the far mysterious shimmer of the Andromeda Nebula; +silence was not a mere absence of noise, but a majestic presence, the +seething of suns. + +"What about the observation terrace at Leyburg?" Gilbertson +challenged. + +"That was different," Ellen Ziska said. "Everything was safe and +civilized. This is like being on the edge of creation." + +Blades could see why Goddard House had so long resisted the inclusion of +female officers on ships of the line, despite political pressure at home +and the Russian example abroad. He was glad they'd finally given in. Now +if only he could build himself up as a dashing, romantic type ... But how +long would the _Altair_ stay? Her stopover seemed quite extended already, +for a casual visit in the course of a routine patrol cruise. He'd have to +work fast. + +"Yes, we are pretty isolated," he said. "The Jupiter ships just unload +their balloons, pick up the empties, and head right back for another +cargo." + +"I don't understand how you can found an industry here, when your raw +materials only arrive at conjunction," Ellen said. + +"Things will be different once we're in full operation," Blades +assured her. "Then we'll be doing enough business to pay for a steady +input, transshipped from whatever depot is nearest Jupiter at any +given time." + +"You've actually built this simply to process ... gas?" Gilbertson +interposed. Blades didn't know whether he was being sarcastic or +asking a genuine question. It was astonishing how ignorant +Earthsiders, even space-traveling Earthsiders, often were about such +matters. + +"Jovian gas is rich stuff," he explained. "Chiefly hydrogen and +helium, of course; but the scoopships separate out most of that during +a pickup. The rest is ammonia, water, methane, a dozen important +organics, including some of the damn ... doggonedest metallic +complexes you ever heard of. We need them as the basis of a +chemosynthetic industry, which we need for survival, which we need if +we're to get the minerals that were the reason for colonizing the Belt +in the first place." He waved his hand at the sky. "When we really get +going, we'll attract settlement. This asteroid has companions, waiting +for people to come and mine them. Homeships and orbital stations will +be built. In ten years there'll be quite a little city clustered +around the Sword." + +"It's happened before," nodded tight-faced Commander Warburton of +Gunnery Control. + +"It's going to happen a lot oftener," Blades said enthusiastically. +"The Belt's going to grow!" He aimed his words at Ellen. "This is the +real frontier. The planets will never amount to much. It's actually +harder to maintain human-type conditions on so big a mass, with a +useless atmosphere around you, than on a lump in space like this. And +the gravity wells are so deep. Even given nuclear power, the energy +cost of really exploiting a planet is prohibitive. Besides which, the +choice minerals are buried under kilometers of rock. On a metallic +asteroid, you can find almost everything you want directly under your +feet. No limit to what you can do." + +"But your own energy expenditure--" Gilbertson objected. + +"That's no problem." As if on cue, the worldlet's spin brought the sun +into sight. Tiny but intolerably brilliant, it flooded the dome with +harsh radiance. Blades lowered the blinds on that side. He pointed in +the opposite direction, toward several sparks of equal brightness that +had manifested themselves. + +"Hundred-meter parabolic mirrors," he said. "Easy to make; you spray a +thin metallic coat on a plastic backing. They're in orbit around us, +each with a small geegee unit to control drift and keep it aimed +directly at the sun. The focused radiation charges heavy-duty +accumulators, which we then collect and use for our power source in +all our mobile work." + +"Do you mean you haven't any nuclear generator?" asked Warburton. + +He seemed curiously intent about it. Blades wondered why, but nodded. +"That's correct. We don't want one. Too dangerous for us. Nor is it +necessary. Even at this distance from the sun, and allowing for +assorted inefficiencies, a mirror supplies better than five hundred +kilowatts, twenty-four hours a day, year after year, absolutely free." + +"Hm-m-m. Yes." Warburton's lean head turned slowly about, to rake +Blades with a look of calculation. "I understand that's the normal +power system in Stations of this type. But we didn't know if it was +used in your case, too." + +_Why should you care?_ Blades thought. + +He shoved aside his faint unease and urged Ellen toward the dome +railing. "Maybe we can spot your ship, Lieutenant, uh, Miss Ziska. +Here's a telescope. Let me see, her orbit ought to run about so...." + + * * * * * + +He hunted until the _Altair_ swam into the viewfield. At this distance +the spheroid looked like a tiny crescent moon, dully painted; but he +could make out the sinister shapes of a rifle turret and a couple of +missile launchers. "Have a look," he invited. Her hair tickled his +nose, brushing past him. It had a delightful sunny odor. + +"How small she seems," the girl said, with the same note of wonder as +before. "And how huge when you're aboard." + +Big, all right, Blades knew, and loaded to the hatches with nuclear +hellfire. But not massive. A civilian spaceship carried meteor +plating, but since that was about as useful as wet cardboard against +modern weapons, warcraft sacrificed it for the sake of mobility. The +self-sealing hull was thin magnesium, the outer shell periodically +renewed as cosmic sand eroded it. + +"I'm not surprised we orbited, instead of docking," Ellen remarked. +"We'd have butted against your radar and bellied into your control +tower." + +"Well, actually, no," said Blades. "Even half finished, our dock's big +enough to accommodate you, as you'll see today. Don't forget, we +anticipate a lot of traffic in the future. I'm puzzled why you didn't +accept our invitation to use it." + +"Doctrine!" Warburton clipped. + +The sun came past the blind and touched the officers' faces with +incandescence. Did some look startled, one or two open their mouths as +if to protest and then snap them shut again at a warning look? Blades' +spine tingled. _I never heard of any such doctrine,_ he thought, +_least of all when a North American ship drops in on a North American +Station._ + +"Is ... er ... is there some international crisis brewing?" he +inquired. + +"Why, no." Ellen straightened from the telescope. "I'd say relations +have seldom been as good as they are now. What makes you ask?" + +"Well, the reason your captain didn't--" + +"Never mind," Warburton said. "We'd better continue the tour, if you +please." + +Blades filed his misgivings for later reference. He might have fretted +immediately, but Ellen Ziska's presence forbade that. A sort of Pauli +exclusion principle. One can't have two spins simultaneously, can one? +He gave her his arm again. "Let's go on to Central Control," he +proposed. "That's right behind the people section." + +"You know, I can't get over it," she told him softly. "This miracle +you've wrought. I've never been more proud of being human." + +"Is this your first long space trip?" + +"Yes, I was stationed at Port Colorado before the new Administration +reshuffled armed service assignments." + +"They did? How come?" + +"I don't know. Well, that is, during the election campaign the Social +Justice Party did talk a lot about old-line officers who were too +hidebound to carry out modern policies effectively. But it sounded +rather silly to me." + +Warburton compressed his lips. "I do not believe it is proper for +service officers to discuss political issues publicly," he said like a +machine gun. + +Ellen flushed. "S-sorry, commander." + +Blades felt a helpless anger on her account. He wasn't sure why. What +was she to him? He'd probably never see her again. A hell of an +attractive target, to be sure; and after so much celibacy he was +highly vulnerable; but did she really matter? + +He turned his back on Warburton and his eyes on her--a five thousand +per cent improvement--and diverted her from her embarrassment by +asking, "Are you from Colorado, then, Miss Ziska?" + +"Oh, no. Toronto." + +"How'd you happen to join the Navy, if I may make so bold?" + +"Gosh, that's hard to say. But I guess mostly I felt so crowded at +home. So, pigeonholed. The world seemed to be nothing but neat little +pigeonholes." + +"Uh-huh. Same here. I was also a square pigeon in a round hole." She +laughed. "Luckily," he added, "Space is too big for compartments." + +Her agreement lacked vigor. The Navy must have been a disappointment +to her. But she couldn't very well say so in front of her shipmates. + +Hm-m-m ... if she could be gotten away from them--"How long will you +be here?" he inquired. His pulse thuttered. + +"We haven't been told," she said. + +"Some work must be done on the missile launchers," Warburton said. +"That's best carried out here, where extra facilities are available if +we need them. Not that I expect we will." He paused. "I hope we won't +interfere with your own operations." + +"Far from it." Blades beamed at Ellen. "Or, more accurately, this kind +of interference I don't mind in the least." + +She blushed and her eyelids fluttered. Not that she was a fluffhead, +he realized. But to avoid incidents, Navy regulations enforced an +inhuman correctness between personnel of opposite sexes. After weeks +in the black, meeting a man who could pay a compliment without risking +court-martial must be like a shot of adrenalin. Better and better! + +"Are you sure?" Warburton persisted. "For instance, won't we be in the +way when the next ship comes from Jupiter?" + +"She'll approach the opposite end of the asteroid," Blades said. +"Won't stay long, either." + +"How long?" + +"One watch, so the crew can relax a bit among those of us who're off +duty. It'd be a trifle longer if we didn't happen to have an empty bag +at the moment. But never very long. Even running under thrust the +whole distance, Jupe's a good ways off. They've no time to waste." + +"When is the next ship due?" + +"The _Pallas Castle_ is expected in the second watch from now." + +"Second watch. I see." Warburton stalked on with a brooding expression +on his Puritan face. + + * * * * * + +Blades might have speculated about that, but someone asked him why the +Station depended on spin for weight. Why not put in an internal field +generator, like a ship? Blades explained patiently that an Emett large +enough to produce uniform pull through a volume as big as the Sword +was rather expensive. "Eventually, when we're a few megabucks ahead of +the game--" + +"Do you really expect to become rich?" Ellen asked. Her tone was awed. +No Earthsider had that chance any more, except for the great +corporations. "_Individually_ rich?" + +"We can't fail to. I tell you, this is a frontier like nothing since +the Conquistadores. We could very easily have been wiped out in the +first couple of years--financially or physically--by any of a thousand +accidents. But now we're too far along for that. We've got it made, +Jimmy and I." + +"What will you do with your wealth?" + +"Live like an old-time sultan," Blades grinned. Then, because it was +true as well as because he wanted to shine in her eyes: "Mostly, +though, we'll go on to new things. There's so much that needs to be +done. Not simply more asteroid mines. We need farms; timber; parks; +passenger and cargo liners; every sort of machine. I'd like to try +getting at some of that water frozen in the Saturnian System. +Altogether, I see no end to the jobs. It's no good our depending on +Earth for anything. Too expensive, too chancy. The Belt has to be made +completely self-sufficient." + +"With a nice rakeoff for Sword Enterprises," Gilbertson scoffed. + +"Why, sure. Aren't we entitled to some return?" + +"Yes. But not so out of proportion as the Belt companies seem to +expect. They're only using natural resources that rightly belong to +the people, and the accumulated skills and wealth of an entire +society." + +"Huh! The People didn't do anything with the Sword. Jimmy and I and +our boys did. No Society was around here grubbing nickel-iron and +riding out gravel storms; we were." + +"Let's leave politics alone," Warburton snapped. But it was mostly +Ellen's look of distress which shut Blades up. + +To everybody's relief, they reached Central Control about then. It was +a complex of domes and rooms, crammed with more equipment than Blades +could put a name to. Computers were in Chung's line, not his. He +wasn't able to answer all of Warburton's disconcertingly sharp +questions. + +But in a general way he could. Whirling through vacuum with a load of +frail humans and intricate artifacts, the Sword must be at once +machine, ecology, and unified organism. Everything had to mesh. A +failure in the thermodynamic balance, a miscalculation in supply +inventory, a few mirrors perturbed out of proper orbit, might spell +Ragnarok. The chemical plant's purifications and syntheses were +already a network too large for the human mind to grasp as a whole, +and it was still growing. Even where men could have taken charge, +automation was cheaper, more reliable, less risky of lives. The +computer system housed in Central Control was not only the brain, but +the nerves and heart of the Sword. + +"Entirely cryotronic, eh?" Warburton commented. "That seems to be the +usual practice at the Stations. Why?" + +"The least expensive type for us," Blades answered. "There's no +problem in maintaining liquid helium here." + +Warburton's gaze was peculiarly intense. "Cryotronic systems are +vulnerable to magnetic and radiation disturbances." + +"Uh-huh. That's one reason we don't have a nuclear power plant. This +far from the sun, we don't get enough emission to worry about. The +asteroid's mass screens out what little may arrive. I know the TIMM +system is used on ships; but if nothing else, the initial cost is more +than we want to pay." + +"What's TIMM?" inquired the _Altair's_ chaplain. + +"Thermally Integrated Micro-Miniaturized," Ellen said crisply. +"Essentially, ultraminiaturized ceramic-to-metal-seal vacuum tubes +running off thermionic generators. They're immune to gamma ray and +magnetic pulses, easily shielded against particule radiation, and +economical of power." She grinned. "Don't tell me there's nothing +about them in Leviticus, Padre!" + +"Very fine for a ship's autopilot," Blades agreed. "But as I said, we +needn't worry about rad or mag units here, we don't mind sprawling a +bit, and as for thermal efficiency, we want to waste some heat. It +goes to maintain internal temperature." + +"In other words, efficiency depends on what you need to effish," Ellen +bantered. She grew grave once more and studied him for a while before +she mused, "The same person who swung a pick, a couple of years ago, +now deals with something as marvelous as this...." He forgot about +worrying. + + * * * * * + +But he remembered later, when the gig had left and Chung called him to +his office. Avis came too, by request. As she entered, she asked why. + +"You were visiting your folks Earthside last year," Chung said. +"Nobody else in the Station has been back as recently as that." + +"What can I tell you?" + +"I'm not sure. Background, perhaps. The feel of the place. We don't +really know, out in the Belt, what's going on there. The beamcast news +is hardly a trickle. Besides, you have more common sense in your left +little toe than that big mick yonder has on his entire copperplated +head." + +They seated themselves in the cobwebby low-gee chairs around Chung's +desk. Blades took out his pipe and filled the bowl with his tobacco +ration for today. Wouldn't it be great, he thought dreamily, if this +old briar turned out to be an Aladdin's lamp, and the smoke condensed +into a blonde she-Canadian--? + +"Wake up, will you?" Chung barked. + +"Huh?" Blades started. "Oh. Sure. What's the matter? You look like a +fish on Friday." + +"Maybe with reason. Did you notice anything unusual with that party +you were escorting?" + +"Yes, indeed." + +"What?" + +"About one hundred seventy-five centimeters tall, yellow hair, blue +eyes, and some of the smoothest fourth-order curves I ever--" + +"Mike, stop that!" Avis sounded appalled. "This is serious." + +"I agree. She'll be leaving in a few more watches." + +The girl bit her lip. "You're too old for that mooncalf rot and you +know it." + +"Agreed again. I feel more like a bull." Blades made pawing motions on +the desktop. + +"There's a lady present," Chung said. + +Blades saw that Avis had gone quite pale. "I'm sorry," he blurted. "I +never thought ... I mean, you've always seemed like--" + +"One of the boys," she finished for him in a brittle tone. "Sure. +Forget it. What's the problem, Jimmy?" + +Chung folded his hands and stared at them. "I can't quite define +that," he answered, word by careful word. "Perhaps I've simply gone +spacedizzy. But when we called on Admiral Hulse, and later when he +called on us, didn't you get the impression of, well, wariness? Didn't +he seem to be watching and probing, every minute we were together?" + +"I wouldn't call him a cheerful sort," Blades nodded. "Stiff as +molasses on Pluto. But I suppose ... supposed he's just naturally that +way." + +Chung shook his head. "It wasn't a normal standoffishness. You've +heard me reminisce about the time I was on Vesta with the North +American technical representative, when the Convention was +negotiated." + +"Yes, I've heard that story a few times," said Avis dryly. + +"Remember, that was right after the Europa Incident. We'd come close +to a space war--undeclared, but it would have been nasty. We were +still close. Every delegate went to that conference cocked and primed. + +"Hulse had the same manner." + + * * * * * + +A silence fell. Blades said at length, "Well, come to think of it, he +did ask some rather odd questions. He seemed to twist the conversation +now and then, so he could find things out like our exact layout, +emergency doctrine, and so forth. It didn't strike me as significant, +though." + +"Nor me," Chung admitted. "Taken in isolation, it meant nothing. But +these visitors today--Sure, most of them obviously didn't suspect +anything untoward. But that Liebknecht, now. Why was he so interested +in Central Control? Nothing new or secret there. Yet he kept asking +for details like the shielding factor of the walls." + +"So did Commander Warburton," Blades remembered. "Also, he wanted to +know exactly when the _Pallas_ is due, how long she'll stay ... +hm-m-m, yes, whether we have any radio linkage with the outside, like +to Ceres or even the nearest Commission base--" + +"Did you tell him that we don't?" Avis asked sharply. + +"Yes. Shouldn't I have?" + +"It scarcely makes any difference," Chung said in a resigned voice. +"As thoroughly as they went over the ground, they'd have seen what we +do and do not have installed so far." + +He leaned forward. "Why are they hanging around?" he asked. "I was +handed some story about overhauling the missile system." + +"Me, too," Blades said. + +"But you don't consider a job complete till it's been tested. And you +don't fire a test shot, even a dummy, this close to a Station. +Besides, what could have gone wrong? I can't see a ship departing +Earth orbit for a long cruise without everything being in order. And +they didn't mention any meteorites, any kind of trouble, en route. +Furthermore, why do the work here? The Navy yard's at Ceres. We can't +spare them any decent amount of materials or tools or help." + +Blades frowned. His own half-formulated doubts shouldered to the fore, +which was doubly unpleasant after he'd been considering Ellen Ziska. +"They tell me the international situation at home is O.K.," he +offered. + +Avis nodded. "What newsfaxes we get in the mail indicate as much," she +said. "So why this hanky-panky?" After a moment, in a changed voice: +"Jimmy, you begin to scare me a little." + +"I scare myself," Chung said. + +"Every morning when you debeard," Blades said; but his heart wasn't +in it. He shook himself and protested: "Damnation, they're our own +countrymen. We're engaged in a lawful business. Why should they do +anything to us?" + +"Maybe Avis can throw some light on that," Chung suggested. + +The girl twisted her fingers together. "Not me," she said. "I'm no +politician." + +"But you were home not so long ago. You talked with people, read the +news, watched the 3V. Can't you at least give an impression?" + +"N-no--Well, of course the preliminary guns of the election campaign +were already being fired. The Social Justice Party was talking a lot +about ... oh, it seemed so ridiculous that I didn't pay much +attention." + +"They talked about how the government had been pouring billions and +billions of dollars into space, while overpopulation produced crying +needs in America's back yard," Chung said. "We know that much, even in +the Belt. We know the appropriations are due to be cut, now the +Essjays are in. So what?" + +"We don't need a subsidy any longer," Blades remarked. "It'd help a +lot, but we can get along without if we have to, and personally, I +prefer that. Less government money means less government control." + +"Sure," Avis said. "There was more than that involved, however. The +Essjays were complaining about the small return on the investment. Not +enough minerals coming back to Earth." + +"Well, for Jupiter's sake," Blades exclaimed, "what do they expect? We +have to build up our capabilities first." + +"They even said, some of them, that enough reward never would be +gotten. That under existing financial policies, the Belt would go in +for its own expansion, use nearly everything it produced for itself +and export only a trickle to America. I had to explain to several of +my parents' friends that I wasn't really a socially irresponsible +capitalist." + +"Is that all the information you have?" Chung asked when she fell +silent. + +"I ... I suppose so. Everything was so vague. No dramatic events. More +of an atmosphere than a concrete thing." + + * * * * * + +"Still, you confirm my own impression," Chung said. Blades jerked his +undisciplined imagination back from the idea of a Thing, with bug eyes +and tentacles, cast in reinforced concrete, and listened as his +partner summed up: + +"The popular feeling at home has turned against private enterprise. +You can hardly call a corporate monster like Systemic Developments a +private enterprise! The new President and Congress share that mood. We +can expect to see it manifested in changed laws and regulations. But +what has this got to do with a battleship parked a couple of hundred +kilometers from us?" + +"If the government doesn't want the asterites to develop much +further--" Blades bit hard on his pipestem. "They must know we have a +caviar mine here. We'll be the only city in this entire sector." + +"But we're still a baby," Avis said. "We won't be important for years +to come. Who'd have it in for a baby?" + +"Besides, we're Americans, too," Chung said. "If that were a foreign +ship, the story might be different--Wait a minute! Could they be +thinking of establishing a new base here?" + +"The Convention wouldn't allow," said Blades. + +"Treaties can always be renegotiated, or even denounced. But first you +have to investigate quietly, find out if it's worth your while." + +"Hoo hah, what lovely money that'd mean!" + +"And lovely bureaucrats crawling out of every file cabinet," Chung +said grimly. "No, thank you. We'll fight any such attempt to the last +lawyer. We've got a good basis, too, in our charter. If the suit is +tried on Ceres, as I believe it has to be, we'll get a sympathetic +court as well." + +"Unless they ring in an Earthside judge," Avis warned. + +"Yeah, that's possible. Also, they could spring proceedings on us +without notice. We've got to find out in advance, so we can prepare. +Any chance of pumping some of those officers?" + +"'Fraid not," Avis said. "The few who'd be in the know are safely back +on shipboard." + +"We could invite 'em here individually," said Blades. "As a matter of +fact, I already have a date with Lieutenant Ziska." + +"What?" Avis' mouth fell open. + +"Yep," Blades said complacently. "End of the next watch, so she can +observe the _Pallas_ arriving. I'm to fetch her on a scooter." He blew +a fat smoke ring. "Look, Jimmy, can you keep everybody off the porch +for a while then? Starlight, privacy, soft music on the piccolo--who +knows what I might find out?" + +"You won't get anything from _her_," Avis spat. "No secrets or, or +anything." + +"Still, I look forward to making the attempt. C'mon, pal, pass the +word. I'll do as much for you sometime." + +"Times like that never seem to come for me," Chung groaned. + +"Oh, let him play around with his suicide blonde," Avis said +furiously. "We others have work to do. I ... I'll tell you what, +Jimmy. Let's not eat in the mess tonight. I'll draw our rations and +fix us something special in your cabin." + + * * * * * + +[Illustration] + +A scooter was not exactly the ideal steed for a knight to convey his +lady. It amounted to little more than three saddles and a locker, set +atop an accumulator-powered gyrogravitic engine, sufficient to lift +you off an asteroid and run at low acceleration. There were no +navigating instruments. You locked the autopilot's radar-gravitic +sensors onto your target object and it took you there, avoiding any +bits of debris which might pass near; but you must watch the distance +indicator and press the deceleration switch in time. If the 'pilot was +turned off, free maneuver became possible, but that was a dangerous +thing to try before you were almost on top of your destination. +Stereoscopic vision fails beyond six or seven meters, and the human +organism isn't equipped to gauge cosmic momenta. + +Nevertheless, Ellen was enchanted. "This is like a dream," her voice +murmured in Blades' earplug. "The whole universe, on every side of us. +I could almost reach out and pluck those stars." + +"You must have trained in powered spacesuits at the Academy," he said +for lack of a more poetic rejoinder. + +"Yes, but that's not the same. We had to stay near Luna's night side, +to be safe from solar particles, and it bit a great chunk out of the +sky. And then everything was so--regulated, disciplined--we did what +we were ordered to do, and that was that. Here I feel free. You can't +imagine how free." Hastily: "Do you use this machine often?" + +"Well, yes, we have about twenty scooters at the Station. They're the +most convenient way of flitting with a load: out to the mirrors to +change accumulators, for instance, or across to one of the companion +rocks where we're digging some ores that the Sword doesn't have. That +kind of work." Blades would frankly rather have had her behind him on +a motorskimmer, hanging on as they careened through a springtime +countryside. He was glad when they reached the main forward air lock +and debarked. + +He was still gladder when the suits were off. Lieutenant Ziska in +dress uniform was stunning, but Ellen in civvies, a fluffy low-cut +blouse and close-fitting slacks, was a hydrogen blast. He wanted to +roll over and pant, but settled for saying, "Welcome back" and holding +her hand rather longer than necessary. + +With a shy smile, she gave him a package. "I drew this before +leaving," she said. "I thought, well, your life is so austere--" + +"A demi of Sandeman," he said reverently. "I won't tell you you +shouldn't have, but I will tell you you're a sweet girl." + +"No, really." She flushed. "After we've put you to so much trouble." + +"Let's go crack this," he said. "The _Pallas_ has called in, but she +won't be visible for a while yet." + + * * * * * + +They made their way to the verandah, picking up a couple of glasses +enroute. Bless his envious heart, Jimmy had warned the other boys off +as requested. _I hope Avis cooks him a Cordon Bleu dinner_, Blades +thought. _Nice kid, Avis, if she'd quit trying to ... what? ... mother +me?_ He forgot about her, with Ellen to seat by the rail. + +The Milky Way turned her hair frosty and glowed in her eyes. Blades +poured the port with much ceremony and raised his glass. "Here's to +your frequent return," he said. + +Her pleasure dwindled a bit. "I don't know if I should drink to that. +We aren't likely to be back, ever." + +"Drink anyway. Gling, glang, gloria!" The rims tinkled together. +"After all," said Blades, "this isn't the whole universe. We'll both +be getting around. See you on Luna?" + +"Maybe." + +He wondered if he was pushing matters too hard. She didn't look at +ease. "Oh, well," he said, "if nothing else, this has been a grand +break in the monotony for us. I don't wish the Navy ill, but if +trouble had to develop, I'm thankful it developed here." + +"Yes--" + +"How's the repair work progressing? Slowly, I hope." + +"I don't know." + +"You should have some idea, being in QM." + +"No supplies have been drawn." + +Blades stiffened. + +"What's the matter?" Ellen sounded alarmed. + +"Huh?" _A fine conspirator I make, if she can see my emotions on me in +neon capitals!_ "Nothing. Nothing. It just seemed a little strange, +you know. Not taking any replacement units." + +"I understand the work is only a matter of making certain +adjustments." + +"Then they should've finished a lot quicker, shouldn't they?" + +"Please," she said unhappily. "Let's not talk about it. I mean, there +are such things as security regulations." + +Blades gave up on that tack. But Chung's idea might be worth probing a +little. "Sure," he said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry." He took +another sip as he hunted for suitable words. A beautiful girl, a +golden wine ... and vice versa ... why couldn't he simply relax and +enjoy himself? Did he have to go fretting about what was probably a +perfectly harmless conundrum?... Yes. However, recreation might still +combine with business. + +"Permit me to daydream," he said, leaning close to her. "The Navy's +going to establish a new base here, and the _Altair_ will be assigned +to it." + +"Daydream indeed!" she laughed, relieved to get back to a mere +flirtation. "Ever hear about the Convention of Vesta?" + +"Treaties can be renegotiated," Blades plagiarized. + +"What do we need an extra base for? Especially since the government +plans to spend such large sums on social welfare. They certainly don't +want to start an arms race besides." + + * * * * * + +Blades nodded. _Jimmy's notion did seem pretty thin_, he thought with +a slight chill, _and now I guess it's completely whiffed._ Mostly to +keep the conversation going, he shrugged and said, "My partner--and +me, too, aside from the privilege of your company--wouldn't have +wanted it anyhow. Not that we're unpatriotic, but there are plenty of +other potential bases, and we'd rather keep government agencies out of +here." + +"Can you, these days?" + +"Pretty much. We're under a new type of charter, as a private +partnership. The first such charter in the Belt, as far as I know, +though there'll be more in the future. The Bank of Ceres financed us. +We haven't taken a nickel of federal money." + +"Is that possible?" + +"Just barely. I'm no economist, but I can see how it works. Money +represents goods and labor. Hitherto those have been in mighty short +supply out here. Government subsidies made up the difference, enabling +us to buy from Earth. But now the asterites have built up enough +population and industry that they have some capital surplus of their +own, to invest in projects like this." + +"Even so, frankly, I'm surprised that two men by themselves could get +such a loan. It must be huge. Wouldn't the bank rather have lent the +money to some corporation?" + +"To tell the truth, we have friends who pulled wires for us. Also, it +was done partly on ideological grounds. A lot of asterites would like +to see more strictly home-grown enterprises, not committed to anyone +on Earth. That's the only way we can grow. Otherwise our profits--our +net production, that is--will continue to be siphoned off for the +mother country's benefit." + +"Well," Ellen said with some indignation, "that was the whole reason +for planting asteroid colonies. You can't expect us to set you up in +business, at enormous cost to ourselves--things we might have done at +home--and get nothing but 'Ta' in return." + +"Never fear, we'll repay you with interest," Blades said. "But +whatever we make from our own work, over and above that, ought to stay +here with us." + +She grew angrier. "Your kind of attitude is what provoked the voters +to elect Social Justice candidates." + +"Nice name, that," mused Blades. "Who can be against social justice? +But you know, I think I'll go into politics myself. I'll organize the +North American Motherhood Party." + +"You wouldn't be so flippant if you'd go see how people have to live +back there." + +"As bad as here? _Whew!_" + +"Nonsense. You know that isn't true. But bad enough. And you aren't +going to stick in these conditions. Only a few hours ago, you were +bragging about the millions you intend to make." + +"Millions _and_ millions, if my strength holds out," leered Blades, +thinking of the alley in Aresopolis. But he decided that that was then +and Ellen was now, and what had started as a promising little party +was turning into a dismal argument about politics. + +"Let's not fight," he said. "We've got different orientations, and we'd +only make each other mad. Let's discuss our next bottle instead ... at the +Coq d'Or in Paris, shall we say? Or Morraine's in New York." + +She calmed down, but her look remained troubled. "You're right, we are +different," she said low. "Isolated, living and working under +conditions we can hardly imagine on Earth--and you can't really +imagine our problems--yes, you're becoming another people. I hope it +will never go so far that--No. I don't want to think about it." She +drained her glass and held it out for a refill, smiling. "Very well, +sir, when do you next plan to be in Paris?" + + * * * * * + +An exceedingly enjoyable while later, the time came to go watch the +_Pallas Castle_ maneuver in. In fact, it had somehow gotten past that +time, and they were late; but they didn't hurry their walk aft. Blades +took Ellen's hand; and she raised no objection. Schoolboyish, no +doubt--however, he had reached the reluctant conclusion that for all +his dishonorable intentions, this affair wasn't likely to go beyond +the schoolboy stage. Not that he wouldn't keep trying. + +As they glided through the refining and synthesizing section, which +filled the broad half of the asteroid, the noise of pumps and +regulators rose until it throbbed in their bones. Ellen gestured at +one of the pipes which crossed the corridor overhead. "Do you really +handle that big a volume at a time?" she asked above the racket. + +"No," he said. "Didn't I explain before? The pipe's thick because it's +so heavily armored." + +"I'm glad you don't use that dreadful word 'cladded.' But why the +armor? High pressure?" + +"Partly. Also, there's an inertrans lining. Jupiter gas is hellishly +reactive at room temperature. The metallic complexes especially; but +think what a witch's brew the stuff is in every respect. Once it's +been refined, of course, we have less trouble. That particular pipe is +carrying it raw." + +They left the noise behind and passed on to the approach control dome +at the receptor end. The two men on duty glanced up and immediately +went back to their instruments. Radio voices were staccato in the air. +Blades led Ellen to an observation port. + +She drew a sharp breath. Outside, the broken ground fell away to space +and the stars. The ovoid that was the ship hung against them, lit by +the hidden sun, a giant even at her distance but dwarfed by the +balloon she towed. As that bubble tried ponderously to rotate, rainbow +gleams ran across it, hiding and then revealing the constellations. +Here, on the asteroid's axis, there was no weight, and one moved with +underwater smoothness, as if disembodied. "Oh, a fairy tale," Ellen +sighed. + +Four sparks flashed out of the boat blisters along the ship's hull. +"Scoopships," Blades told her. "They haul the cargo in, being so much +more maneuverable. Actually, though, the mother vessel is going to +park her load in orbit, while those boys bring in another one ... see, +there it comes into sight. We still haven't got the capacity to keep +up with our deliveries." + +"How many are there? Scoopships, that is." + +"Twenty, but you don't need more than four for this job. They've got +terrific power. Have to, if they're to dive from orbit down into the +Jovian atmosphere, ram themselves full of gas, and come back. There +they go." + +The _Pallas Castle_ was wrestling the great sphere she had hauled from +Jupiter into a stable path computed by Central Control. Meanwhile the +scoopships, small only by comparison with her, locked onto the other +balloon as it drifted close. Energy poured into their drive fields. +Spiraling downward, transparent globe and four laboring spacecraft +vanished behind the horizon. The _Pallas_ completed her own task, +disengaged her towbars, and dropped from view, headed for the dock. + +The second balloon rose again, like a huge glass moon on the opposite +side of the Sword. Still it grew in Ellen's eyes, kilometer by +kilometer of approach. So much mass wasn't easily handled, but the +braking curve looked disdainfully smooth. Presently she could make out +the scoopships in detail, elongated teardrops with the intake gates +yawning in the blunt forward end, cockpit canopies raised very +slightly above. + +Instructions rattled from the men in the dome. The balloon veered +clumsily toward the one free receptor. A derricklike structure +released one end of a cable, which streamed skyward. Things that Ellen +couldn't quite follow in this tricky light were done by the four tugs, +mechanisms of their own extended to make their tow fast to the cable. + +They did not cast loose at once, but continued to drag a little, +easing the impact of centrifugal force. Nonetheless a slight shudder +went through the dome as slack was taken up. Then the job was over. +The scoopships let go and flitted off to join their mother vessel. The +balloon was winched inward. Spacesuited men moved close, preparing to +couple valves together. + +"And eventually," Blades said into the abrupt quietness, "that cargo +will become food, fabric, vitryl, plastiboard, reagents, fuels, a +hundred different things. That's what we're here for." + +"I've never seen anything so wonderful," Ellen said raptly. He laid an +arm around her waist. + +The intercom chose that precise moment to blare: "Attention! +Emergency! All hands to emergency stations! Blades, get to Chung's +office on the double! All hands to emergency stations!" + +Blades was running before the siren had begun to howl. + +Rear Admiral Barclay Hulse had come in person. He stood as if on +parade, towering over Chung. The asterite was red with fury. Avis Page +crouched in a corner, her eyes terrified. + +Blades barreled through the doorway and stopped hardly short of a +collision. "What's the matter?" he puffed. + +"Plenty!" Chung snarled. "These incredible thumble-fumbed oafs--" His +voice broke. _When he gets mad, it means something!_ + +Hulse nailed Blades with a glance. "Good day, sir," he clipped. "I +have had to report a regrettable accident which will require you to +evacuate the Station. Temporarily, I hope." + +"Huh?" + +"As I told Mr. Chung and Miss Page, a nuclear missile has escaped us. +If it explodes, the radiation will be lethal, even in the heart of the +asteroid." + +"What ... what--" Blades could only gobble at him. + +"Fortunately, the _Pallas Castle_ is here. She can take your whole +complement aboard and move to a safe distance while we search for the +object." + +"How the _devil_?" + +Hulse allowed himself a look of exasperation. "Evidently I'll have to +repeat myself to you. Very well. You know we have had to make some +adjustments on our launchers. What you did not know was the reason. +Under the circumstances, I think it's permissible to tell you that +several of them have a new and secret, experimental control system. +One of our missions on this cruise was to carry out field tests. Well, +it turned out that the system is still full of, ah, bugs. Gunnery +Command has had endless trouble with it, has had to keep tinkering the +whole way from Earth. + +"Half an hour ago, while Commander Warburton was completing a +reassembly--lower ranks aren't allowed in the test turrets--something +happened. I can't tell you my guess as to what, but if you want to +imagine that a relay got stuck, that will do for practical purposes. A +missile was released under power. Not a dummy--the real thing. And +release automatically arms the war head." + + * * * * * + +The news was like a hammerblow. Blades spoke an obscenity. Sweat +sprang forth under his arms and trickled down his ribs. + +"No such thing was expected," Hulse went on. "It's an utter disaster, +and the designers of the system aren't likely to get any more +contracts. But as matters were, no radar fix was gotten on it, and it +was soon too far away for gyrogravitic pulse detection. The thrust +vector is unknown. It could be almost anywhere now. + +"Well, naval missiles are programmed to reverse acceleration if they +haven't made a target within a given time. This one should be back in +less than six hours. If it first detects our ship, everything is all +right. It has optical recognition circuits that identify any North +American warcraft by type, disarm the war head, and steer it home. +But, if it first comes within fifty kilometers of some other +mass--like this asteroid or one of the companion rocks--it will +detonate. We'll make every effort to intercept, but space is big. +You'll have to take your people to a safe distance. They can come back +even after a blast, of course. There's no concussion in vacuum, and +the fireball won't reach here. It's principally an anti-personnel +weapon. But you must not be within the lethal radius of radiation." + +"The hell we can come back!" Avis cried. + +[Illustration] + +"I beg your pardon?" Hulse said. + +"You imbecile! Don't you know Central Control here is cryotronic?" + +Hulse did not flicker an eyelid. "So it is," he said expressionlessly. +"I had forgotten." + + * * * * * + +Blades mastered his own shock enough to grate: "Well, we sure haven't. +If that thing goes off, the gamma burst will kick up so many minority +carriers in the transistors that the _p_-type crystals will act +_n_-type, and the _n_-type act _p_-type, for a whole couple of +microseconds. Every one of 'em will flip simultaneously! The +computers' memory and program data systems will be scrambled beyond +hope of reorganization." + +"Magnetic pulse, too," Chung said. "The fireball plasma will be full +of inhomogeneities moving at several per cent of light speed. Their +electromagnetic output, hitting our magnetic core units, will turn +them from super to ordinary conduction. Same effect, total computer +amnesia. We haven't got enough shielding against it. Your TIMM systems +can take that kind of a beating. Ours can't!" + +"Very regrettable," Hulse said. "You'd have to reprogram everything--" + +"Reprogram what?" Avis retorted. Tears started forth in her eyes. +"We've told you what sort of stuff our chemical plant is handling. We +can't shut it down on that short notice. It'll run wild. There'll be +sodium explosions, hydrogen and organic combustion, n-n-nothing left +here but wreckage!" + +Hulse didn't unbend a centimeter. "I offer my most sincere apologies. +If actual harm does occur, I'm sure the government will indemnify you. +And, of course, my command will furnish what supplies may be needed +for the _Pallas Castle_ to transport you to the nearest Commission +base. At the moment, though, you can do nothing but evacuate and hope +we will be able to intercept the missile." + +Blades knotted his fists. A sudden comprehension rushed up in him and +he bellowed, "There isn't going to be an interception! This wasn't an +accident!" + +Hulse backed a step and drew himself even straighter. "Don't get +overwrought," he advised. + +"You louse-bitten, egg-sucking, bloated faggot-porter! How stupid do +you think we are? As stupid as your Essjay bosses? By heaven, we're +staying! Then see if you have the nerve to murder a hundred people!" + +"Mike ... Mike--" Avis caught his arm. + +Hulse turned to Chung. "I'll overlook that unseemly outburst," he +said. "But in light of my responsibilities and under the provisions of +the Constitution, I am hereby putting this asteroid under martial law. +You will have all personnel aboard the _Pallas Castle_ and at a +minimum distance of a thousand kilometers within four hours of this +moment, or be subject to arrest and trial. Now I have to get back and +commence operations. The _Altair_ will maintain radio contact with +you. Good day." He bowed curtly, spun on his heel, and clacked from +the room. + +Blades started to charge after him. Chung caught his free arm. +Together he and Avis dragged him to a stop. He stood cursing the air +ultraviolet until Ellen entered. + +"I couldn't keep up with you," she panted. "What's happened, Mike?" + +The strength drained from Blades. He slumped into a chair and covered +his face. + + * * * * * + +Chung explained in a few harsh words. "Oh-h-h," Ellen gasped. She went +to Blades and laid her hands on his shoulders. "My poor Mike!" + +After a moment she looked at the others. "I should report back, of +course," she said, "but I won't be able to before the ship +accelerates. So I'll have to stay with you till afterward. Miss Page, +we left about half a bottle of wine on the verandah. I think it would +be a good idea if you went and got it." + +Avis bridled. "And why not you?" + +"This is no time for personalities," Chung said. "Go on, Avis. You can +be thinking what records and other paper we should take, while you're +on your way. I've got to organize the evacuation. As for Miss Ziska, +well, Mike needs somebody to pull him out of his dive." + +"Her?" Avis wailed, and fled. + +Chung sat down and flipped his intercom to Phone Central. "Get me +Captain Janichevski aboard the _Pallas_," he ordered. "Hello, Adam? +About that general alarm--" + +Blades raised a haggard countenance toward Ellen's. "You better clear +out, along with the women and any men who don't want to stay," he +said. "But I think most of them will take the chance. They're on a +profit-sharing scheme, they stand to lose too much if the place is +ruined." + +"What do you mean?" + +"It's a gamble, but I don't believe Hulse's sealed orders extend to +murder. If enough of us stay put, he'll have to catch that thing. He +jolly well knows its exact trajectory." + +"You forget we're under martial law," Chung said, aside to him. "If we +don't go freely, he'll land some PP's and march us off at gunpoint. +There isn't any choice. We've had the course." + +"I don't understand," Ellen said shakily. + +Chung went back to his intercom. Blades fumbled out his pipe and +rolled it empty between his hands. "That missile was shot off on +purpose," he said. + +"What? No, you must be sick, that's impossible!" + +"I realize you didn't know about it. Only three or four officers have +been told. The job had to be done very, very secretly, or there'd be a +scandal, maybe an impeachment. But it's still sabotage." + +She shrank from him. "You're not making sense." + +"Their own story doesn't make sense. It's ridiculous. A new missile +system wouldn't be sent on a field trial clear to the Belt before it'd +had enough tests closer to home to get the worst bugs out. A war-head +missile wouldn't be stashed anywhere near something so unreliable, let +alone be put under its control. The testing ship wouldn't hang around +a civilian Station while her gunnery chief tinkered. And Hulse, +Warburton, Liebknecht, they were asking in _such_ detail about how +radiation-proof we are." + +"I can't believe it. Nobody will." + +"Not back home. Communication with Earth is so sparse and garbled. The +public will only know there was an accident; who'll give a hoot about +the details? We couldn't even prove anything in an asteroid court. The +Navy would say, 'Classified information!' and that'd stop the +proceedings cold. Sure, there'll be a board of inquiry--composed of +naval officers. Probably honorable men, too. But what are they going +to believe, the sworn word of their Goddard House colleague, or the +rantings of an asterite bum?" + +"Mike, I know this is terrible for you, but you've let it go to your +head." Ellen laid a hand over his. "Suppose the worst happens. You'll +be compensated for your loss." + +"Yeah. To the extent of our personal investment. The Bank of Ceres +still has nearly all the money that was put in. We didn't figure to +have them paid off for another ten years. They, or their insurance +carrier, will get the indemnity. And after our fiasco, they won't make +us a new loan. They were just barely talked into it, the first time +around. I daresay Systemic Developments will make them a nice juicy +offer to take this job over." + +Ellen colored. She stamped her foot. "You're talking like a paranoiac. +Do you really believe the government of North America would send a +battleship clear out here to do you dirt?" + +"Not the whole government. A few men in the right positions is all +that's necessary. I don't know if Hulse was bribed or talked into +this. But probably he agreed as a duty. He's the prim type." + +"A duty--to destroy a North American business?" + + * * * * * + +Chung finished at the intercom in time to answer: "Not permanent +physical destruction, Miss Ziska. As Mike suggested, some corporation +will doubtless inherit the Sword and repair the damage. But a private, +purely asterite business ... yes, I'm afraid Mike's right. We are the +target." + +"In mercy's name, why?" + +"From the highest motives, of course," Chung sneered bitterly. "You +know what the Social Justice Party thinks of private capitalism. +What's more important, though, is that the Sword is the first Belt +undertaking not tied to Mother Earth's apron strings. We have no +commitments to anybody back there. We can sell our output wherever we +like. It's notorious that the asterites are itching to build up their +own self-sufficient industries. Quite apart from sentiment, we can +make bigger profits in the Belt than back home, especially when you +figure the cost of sending stuff in and out of Earth's gravitational +well. So certainly we'd be doing most of our business out here. + +"Our charter can't simply be revoked. First a good many laws would +have to be revised, and that's politically impossible. There is still +a lot of individualist sentiment in North America, as witness the +fact that businesses do get launched and that the Essjays did have a +hard campaign to get elected. What the new government wants is +something like the Eighteenth Century English policy toward America. +Keep the colonies as a source of raw materials and as a market for +manufactured goods, but don't let them develop a domestic industry. +You can't come right out and say that, but you can let the situation +develop naturally. + +"Only ... here the Sword is, obviously bound to grow rich and expand +in every direction. If we're allowed to develop, to reinvest our +profits, we'll become the nucleus of independent asterite enterprise. +If, on the other hand, we're wiped out by an unfortunate accident, +there's no nucleus; and a small change in the banking laws is all +that's needed to prevent others from getting started. Q.E.D." + +"I daresay Hulse does think he's doing his patriotic duty," said +Blades. "He wants to guarantee North America our natural resources--in +the long run, maybe, our allegiance. If he has to commit sabotage, too +bad, but it won't cost him any sleep." + +"No!" Ellen almost screamed. + +Chung sagged in his chair. "We're very neatly trapped," he said like +an old man. "I don't see any way out. Think you can get to work now, +Mike? You can assign group leaders for the evacuation--" + +Blades jumped erect. "I can fight!" he growled. + +"With what? Can openers?" + +"You mean you're going to lie down and let them break us?" + +Avis came back. She thrust the bottle into Blades' hands as he paced +the room. "Here you are," she said in a distant voice. + +He held it out toward Ellen. "Have some," he invited. + +"Not with you ... you subversive!" + +Avis brightened noticeably, took the bottle and raised it. "Then +here's to victory," she said, drank, and passed it to Blades. + +He started to gulp; but the wine was too noble, and he found himself +savoring its course down his throat. _Why,_ he thought vaguely, _do +people always speak with scorn about Dutch courage? The Dutch have +real guts. They fought themselves free of Spain and free of the ocean +itself; when the French or Germans came, they made the enemy sea their +ally_-- + +The bottle fell from his grasp. In the weak acceleration, it hadn't +hit the floor when Avis rescued it. "Gimme that, you big +butterfingers," she exclaimed. Her free hand clasped his arm. +"Whatever happens, Mike," she said to him, "we're not quitting." + +Still Blades stared beyond her. His fists clenched and unclenched. The +noise of his breathing filled the room. Chung looked around in +bewilderment; Ellen watched with waxing horror; Avis' eyes kindled. + +"Holy smoking seegars," Blades whispered at last. "I really think we +can swing it." + +Captain Janichevski recoiled. "You're out of your skull!" + +"Probably," said Blades. "Fun, huh?" + +"You can't do this." + +"We can try." + +"Do you know what you're talking about? Insurrection, that's what. +Quite likely piracy. Even if your scheme worked, you'd spend the next +ten years in Rehab--at least." + +"Maybe, provided the matter ever came to trial. But it won't." + +"That's what you think. You're asking me to compound the felony, and +misappropriate the property of my owners to boot." Janichevski shook +his head. "Sorry, Mike. I'm sorry as hell about this mess. But I won't +be party to making it worse." + +"In other words," Blades replied, "you'd rather be party to sabotage. +I'm proposing an act of legitimate self-defense." + +"_If_ there actually is a conspiracy to destroy the Station." + +"Adam, you're a spaceman. You know how the Navy operates. Can you +swallow that story about a missile getting loose by accident?" + +Janichevski bit his lip. The sounds from outside filled the captain's +cabin, voices, footfalls, whirr of machines and clash of doors, as the +_Pallas Castle_ readied for departure. Blades waited. + +"You may be right," said Janichevski at length, wretchedly. "Though +why Hulse should jeopardize his career--" + +"He's not. There's a scapegoat groomed back home, you can be sure. +Like some company that'll be debarred from military contracts for a +while ... and get nice fat orders in other fields. I've kicked around +the System enough to know how that works." + +"If you're wrong, though ... if this is an honest blunder ... then you +risk committing treason." + +"Yeah. I'll take the chance." + +"Not I. No. I've got a family to support," Janichevski said. + +Blades regarded him bleakly. "If the Essjays get away with this stunt, +what kind of life will your family be leading, ten years from now? +It's not simply that we'll be high-class peons in the Belt. But tied +hand and foot to a shortsighted government, how much progress will we +be able to make? Other countries have colonies out here too, remember, +and some of them are already giving their people a freer hand than +we've got. Do you want the Asians, or the Russians, or even the +Europeans, to take over the asteroids?" + +"I can't make policy." + +"In other words, mama knows best. Believe, obey, anything put out by +some bureaucrat who never set foot beyond Luna. Is that your idea of +citizenship?" + +"You're putting a mighty fine gloss on bailing yourself out!" +Janichevski flared. + +"Sure, I'm no idealist. But neither am I a slave," Blades hesitated. +"We've been friends too long, Adam, for me to try bribing you. But if +worst comes to worst, we'll cover for you ... somehow ... and if +contrariwise we win, then we'll soon be hiring captains for our own +ships and you'll get the best offer any spaceman ever got." + +"No. Scram. I've work to do." + +Blades braced himself. "I didn't want to say this. But I've already +informed a number of my men. They're as mad as I am. They're waiting +in the terminal. A monkey wrench or a laser torch makes a pretty fair +weapon. We can take over by force. That'll leave you legally in the +clear. But with so many witnesses around, you'll have to prefer +charges against us later on." + +Janichevski began to sweat. + +"We'll be sent up," said Blades. "But it will still have been worth +it." + +"Is it really that important to you?" + +"Yes. I admit I'm no crusader. But this is a matter of principle." + +Janichevski stared at the big red-haired man for a long while. +Suddenly he stiffened. "O.K. On that account, and no other, I'll go +along with you." + +Blades wobbled on his feet, near collapse with relief. "Good man!" he +croaked. + +"But I will not have any of my officers or crew involved." + +Blades rallied and answered briskly, "You needn't. Just issue orders +that my boys are to have access to the scoopships. They can install +the equipment, jockey the boats over to the full balloons, and even +couple them on." + +Janichevski's fears had vanished once he made his decision, but now a +certain doubt registered. "That's a pretty skilled job." + +"These are pretty skilled men. It isn't much of a maneuver, not like +making a Jovian sky dive." + +"Well, O.K., I'll take your word for their ability. But suppose the +_Altair_ spots those boats moving around?" + +"She's already several hundred kilometers off, and getting farther +away, running a search curve which I'm betting my liberty--and my +honor; I certainly don't want to hurt my own country's Navy--I'm +betting that search curve is guaranteed not to find the missile in +time. They'll spot the _Pallas_ as you depart--oh, yes, our people +will be aboard as per orders--but no finer detail will show in so +casual an observation." + +"Again, I'll take your word. What else can I do to help?" + +"Nothing you weren't doing before. Leave the piratics to us. I'd +better get back." Blades extended his hand. "I haven't got the words +to thank you, Adam." + +Janichevski accepted the shake. "No reason for thanks. You dragooned +me." A grin crossed his face. "I must confess though, I'm not sorry +you did." + + * * * * * + +Blades left. He found his gang in the terminal, two dozen engineers +and rockjacks clumped tautly together. + +"What's the word?" Carlos Odonaju shouted. + +"Clear track," Blades said. "Go right aboard." + +"Good. Fine. I always wanted to do something vicious and destructive," +Odonaju laughed. + +"The idea is to prevent destruction," Blades reminded him, and +proceeded toward the office. + +Avis met him in Corridor Four. Her freckled countenance was distorted +by a scowl. "Hey, Mike, wait a minute," she said, low and hurriedly. +"Have you seen La Ziska?" + +"The leftenant? Why, no. I left her with you, remember, hoping you +could calm her down." + +"Uh-huh. She was incandescent mad. Called us a pack of bandits +and--But then she started crying. Seemed to break down completely. I +took her to your cabin and went back to help Jimmy. Only, when I +checked there a minute ago, she was gone." + +"What? Where?" + +"How should I know? But that she-devil's capable of anything to wreck +our chances." + +"You're not being fair to her. She's got an oath to keep." + +"All right," said Avis sweetly. "Far be it from me to prevent her +fulfilling her obligations. Afterward she may even write you an +occasional letter. I'm sure that'll brighten your Rehab cell no end." + +"What can she do?" Blades argued, with an uneasy sense of whistling in +the dark. "She can't get off the asteroid without a scooter, and I've +already got Sam's gang working on all the scooters." + +"Is there no other possibility? The radio shack?" + +"With a man on duty there. That's out." Blades patted the girl's arm. + +"O.K., I'll get back to work. But ... I'll be so glad when this is +over, Mike!" + +Looking into the desperate brown eyes, Blades felt a sudden impulse to +kiss their owner. But no, there was too much else to do. Later, +perhaps. He cocked a thumb upward. "Carry on." + +_Too bad about Ellen_, he thought as he continued toward his office. +_What an awful waste, to make a permanent enemy of someone with her +kind of looks. And personality--Come off that stick, you clabberhead! +She's probably the marryin' type anyway._ + +_In her shoes, though, what would I do? Not much; they'd pinch my +feet. But--damnation, Avis is right. She's not safe to have running +around loose. The radio shack? Sparks is not one of the few who've +been told the whole story and co-opted into the plan. She could_-- + +Blades cursed, whirled, and ran. + +His way was clear. Most of the men were still in their dorms, +preparing to leave. He traveled in huge low-gravity leaps. + +The radio shack rose out of the surface near the verandah. Blades +tried the door. It didn't budge. A chill went through him. He backed +across the corridor and charged. The door was only plastiboard-- + +He hit with a thud and a grunt, and rebounded with a numbed shoulder. +But it looked so easy for the cops on 3V! + +No time to figure out the delicate art of forcible entry. He hurled +himself against the panel, again and again, heedless of the pain that +struck in flesh and bone. When the door finally, splinteringly gave +way, he stumbled clear across the room beyond, fetched up against an +instrument console, recovered his balance, and gaped. + +The operator lay on the floor, swearing in a steady monotone. He had +been efficiently bound with his own blouse and trousers, which +revealed his predilection for maroon shorts with zebra stripes. There +was a lump on the back of his head, and a hammer lay close by. Ellen +must have stolen the tool and come in here with the thing behind her +back. The operator would have had no reason to suspect her. + +She had not left the sender's chair, not even while the door was under +attack. Only a carrier beam connected the Sword with the _Altair_. She +continued doggedly to fumble with dials and switches, trying to +modulate it and raise the ship. + +"Praises be ... you haven't had advanced training ... in radio," +Blades choked. "That's ... a long-range set ... pretty special +system--" He weaved toward her. "Come along, now." + +She spat an unladylike refusal. + +Theoretically, Blades should have enjoyed the tussle that followed. +But he was in poor shape at the outset. And he was a good deal worse +off by the time he got her pinioned. + +"O.K.," he wheezed. "Will you come quietly?" + +She didn't deign to answer, unless you counted her butting him in the +nose. He had to yell for help to frog-march her aboard ship. + + * * * * * + +"_Pallas Castle_ calling NASS _Altair_. Come in, _Altair_." + +The great ovoid swung clear in space, among a million cold stars. The +asteroid had dwindled out of sight. A radio beam flickered across +emptiness. Within the hull, the crew and a hundred refugees sat jammed +together. The air was thick with their breath and sweat and waiting. + +Blades and Chung, seated by the transmitter, felt another kind of +thickness, the pull of the internal field. Earth-normal weight dragged +down every movement; the enclosed cabin began to feel suffocatingly +small. _We'd get used to it again pretty quickly,_ Blades thought. +_Our bodies would, that is. But our own selves, tied down to Earth +forever--no._ + +The vision screen jumped to life. "NASS _Altair_ acknowledging _Pallas +Castle_," said the uniformed figure within. + +"O.K., Charlie, go outside and don't let anybody else enter," Chung +told his own operator. + +The spaceman gave him a quizzical glance, but obeyed. "I wish to +report that evacuation of the Sword is now complete," Chung said +formally. + +"Very good, sir," the Navy face replied. "I'll inform my superiors." + +"Wait, don't break off yet. We have to talk with your captain." + +"Sir? I'll switch you over to--" + +"None of your damned chains of command," Blades interrupted. "Get me +Rear Admiral Hulse direct, toot sweet, or I'll eat out whatever +fraction of you he leaves unchewed. This is an emergency. I've got to +warn him of an immediate danger only he can deal with." + +The other stared, first at Chung's obvious exhaustion, then at the +black eye and assorted bruises, scratches, and bites that adorned +Blades' visage. "I'll put the message through Channel Red at once, +sir." The screen blanked. + +"Well, here we go," Chung said. "I wonder how the food in Rehab is +these days." + +"Want me to do the talking?" Blades asked. Chung wasn't built for +times as hectic as the last few hours, and was worn to a nubbin. He +himself felt immensely keyed up. He'd always liked a good fight. + +"Sure." Chung pulled a crumpled cigarette from his pocket and began to +fill the cabin with smoke. "You have a larger stock of rudeness than +I." + +[Illustration] + +Presently the screen showed Hulse, rigid at his post on the bridge. +"Good day, gentlemen," he said. "What's the trouble?" + +"Plenty," Blades answered. "Clear everybody else out of there; let +your ship orbit free a while. And seal your circuit." + +Hulse reddened. "Who do you think you are?" + +"Well, my birth certificate says Michael Joseph Blades. I've got some +news for you concerning that top-secret gadget you told us about. You +wouldn't want unauthorized personnel listening in." + +Hulse leaned forward till he seemed about to fall through the screen. +"What's this about a hazard?" + +"Fact. The _Altair_ is in distinct danger of getting blown to bits." + +"Have you gone crazy? Get me the captain of the _Pallas_." + +"Very small bits." + +Hulse compressed his lips. "All right, I'll listen to you for a short +time. You had better make it worth my while." + +He spoke orders. Blades scratched his back while he waited for the +bridge to be emptied and wondered if there was any chance of a hot +shower in the near future. + +"Done," said Hulse. "Give me your report." + +Blades glanced at the telltale. "You haven't sealed your circuit, +admiral." + +Hulse said angry words, but complied. "Now will you talk?" + +"Sure. This secrecy is for your own protection. You risk court-martial +otherwise." + +Hulse suppressed a retort. + + * * * * * + +"O.K., here's the word." Blades met the transmitted glare with an +almost palpable crash of eyeballs. "We decided, Mr. Chung and I, that +any missile rig as haywire as yours represents a menace to navigation +and public safety. If you can't control your own nuclear weapons, you +shouldn't be at large. Our charter gives us local authority as peace +officers. By virtue thereof and so on and so forth, we ordered certain +precautionary steps taken. As a result, if that war head goes off, I'm +sorry to say that NASS _Altair_ will be destroyed." + +"Are you ... have you--" Hulse congealed. In spite of everything, he +was a competent officer, Blades decided. "Please explain yourself," he +said without tone. + +"Sure," Blades obliged. "The Station hasn't got any armament, but +trust the human race to juryrig that. We commandeered the scoopships +belonging to this vessel and loaded them with Jovian gas at maximum +pressure. If your missile detonates, they'll dive on you." + +Something like amusement tinged Hulse's shocked expression. "Do you +seriously consider that a weapon?" + +"I seriously do. Let me explain. The ships are orbiting free right +now, scattered through quite a large volume of space. Nobody's aboard +them. What is aboard each one, though, is an autopilot taken from a +scooter, hooked into the drive controls. Each 'pilot has its sensors +locked onto your ship. You can't maneuver fast enough to shake off +radar beams and mass detectors. You're the target object, and there's +nothing to tell those idiot computers to decelerate as they approach +you. + +"Of course, no approach is being made yet. A switch has been put in +every scooter circuit, and left open. Only the meteorite evasion units +are operative right now. That is, if anyone tried to lay alongside one +of those scoopships, he'd be detected and the ship would skitter away. +Remember, a scoopship hasn't much mass, and she does have engines +designed for diving in and out of Jupe's gravitational well. She can +out-accelerate either of our vessels, or any boat of yours, and +out-dodge any of your missiles. You can't catch her." + +Hulse snorted. "What's the significance of this farce?" + +"I said the autopilots were switched off at the moment, as far as +heading for the target is concerned. But each of those switches is +coupled to two other units. One is simply the sensor box. If you +withdraw beyond a certain distance, the switches will close. That is, +the 'pilots will be turned on if you try to go beyond range of the +beams now locked onto you. The other unit we've installed in every +boat is an ordinary two-for-a-dollar radiation meter. If a nuclear +weapon goes off, anywhere within a couple of thousand kilometers, the +switches will also close. In either of those cases, the scoopships +will dive on you. + +"You might knock out a few with missiles, before they strike. +Undoubtedly you can punch holes in them with laser guns. But that +won't do any good, except when you're lucky enough to hit a vital +part. Nobody's aboard to be killed. Not even much gas will be lost, in +so short a time. + +"So to summarize, chum, if that rogue missile explodes, your ship will +be struck by ten to twenty scoopships, each crammed full of +concentrated Jovian air. They'll pierce that thin hull of yours, but +since they're already pumped full beyond the margin of safety, the +impact will split them open and the gas will whoosh out. Do you know +what Jovian air does to substances like magnesium? + +"You can probably save your crew, take to the boats and reach a +Commission base. But your nice battleship will be _ganz kaput_. Is +your game worth that candle?" + +"You're totally insane! Releasing such a thing--" + +"Oh, not permanently. There's one more switch on each boat, connected +to the meteorite evasion unit and controlled by a small battery. When +those batteries run down, in about twenty hours, the 'pilots will be +turned off completely. Then we can spot the scoopships by radar and +pick 'em up. And you'll be free to leave." + +"Do you think for one instant that your fantastic claim of acting +legally will stand up in court?" + +"No, probably not. But it won't have to. Obviously you can't make +anybody swallow your yarn if a _second_ missile gets loose. And as for +the first one, since it's failed in its purpose, your bosses aren't +going to want the matter publicized. It'd embarrass them to no end, +and serve no purpose except revenge on Jimmy and me--which there's no +point in taking, since the Sword would still be privately owned. You +check with Earth, admiral, before shooting off your mouth. They'll +tell you that both parties to this quarrel had better forget about +legal action. Both would lose. + +"So I'm afraid your only choice is to find that missile before it goes +off." + +"And yours? What are your alternatives?" Hulse had gone gray in the +face, but he still spoke stoutly. + +Blades grinned at him. "None whatsoever. We've burned our bridges. We +can't do anything about those scoopships now, so it's no use trying to +scare us or arrest us or whatever else may occur to you. What we've +done is establish an automatic deterrent." + +"Against an, an attempt ... at sabotage ... that only exists in your +imagination!" + +Blades shrugged. "That argument isn't relevant any longer. I do +believe the missile was released deliberately. We wouldn't have done +what we did otherwise. But there's no longer any point in making +charges and denials. You'd just better retrieve the thing." + +Hulse squared his shoulders. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" + +"Well, you can send a man to the Station. He'll find the scooters +lying gutted. Send another man over here to the _Pallas_. He'll find +the scoopships gone. I also took a few photographs of the autopilots +being installed and the ships being cast adrift. Go right ahead. +However, may I remind you that the fewer people who have an inkling of +this little intrigue, the better for all concerned." + +Hulse opened his mouth, shut it again, stared from side to side, and +finally slumped the barest bit. "Very well," he said, biting off the +words syllable by syllable. "I can't risk a ship of the line. Of +course, since the rogue is still farther away than your deterrent +allows the _Altair_ to go, we shall have to wait in space a while." + +"I don't mind." + +"I shall report the full story to my superiors at home ... but +unofficially." + +"Good. I'd like them to know that we asterites have teeth." + +"Signing off, then." + +Chung stirred. "Wait a bit," he said. "We have one of your people +aboard, Lieutenant Ziska. Can you send a gig for her?" + +"She didn't collaborate with us," Blades added. "You can see the +evidence of her loyalty, all over my mug." + +"Good girl!" Hulse exclaimed savagely. "Yes, I'll send a boat. Signing +off." + + * * * * * + +The screen blanked. Chung and Blades let out a long, ragged breath. +They sat a while trembling before Chung muttered, "That skunk as good +as admitted everything." + +"Sure," said Blades, "But we won't have any more trouble from him." + +Chung stubbed out his cigarette. Poise was returning to both men. +"There could be other attempts, though, in the next few years." He +scowled. "I think we should arm the Station. A couple of laser guns, +if nothing else. We can say it's for protection in case of war. But +it'll make our own government handle us more carefully, too." + +"Well, you can approach the Commission about it." Blades yawned and +stretched, trying to loosen his muscles. "Better get a lot of other +owners and supervisors to sign your petition, though." The next order +of business came to his mind. He rose. "Why don't you go tell Adam the +good news?" + +"Where are you bound?" + +"To let Ellen know the fight is over." + +"Is it, as far as she's concerned?" + +"That's what I'm about to find out. Hope I won't need an armored +escort." Blades went from the cubicle, past the watchful radioman, and +down the deserted passageway beyond. + +The cabin given her lay at the end, locked from outside. The key hung +magnetically on the bulkhead. Blades unlocked the door and tapped it +with his knuckles. + +"Who's there?" she called. + +"Me," he said. "May I come in?" + +"If you must," she said freezingly. + +He opened the door and stepped through. The overhead light shimmered +off her hair and limned her figure with shadows. His heart bumped. +"You, uh, you can come out now," he faltered. "Everything's O.K." + +She said nothing, only regarded him from glacier-blue eyes. + +"No harm's been done, except to me and Sparks, and we're not mad," he +groped. "Shall we forget the whole episode?" + +"If you wish." + +"Ellen," he pleaded, "I had to do what seemed right to me." + +"So did I." + +He couldn't find any more words. + +"I assume that I'll be returned to my own ship," she said. He nodded. +"Then, if you will excuse me, I had best make myself as presentable as +I can. Good day, Mr. Blades." + +"What's good about it?" he snarled, and slammed the door on his way +out. + +Avis stood outside the jampacked saloon. She saw him coming and ran to +meet him. He made swab-O with his fingers and joy blazed from her. +"Mike," she cried, "I'm so happy!" + +The only gentlemanly thing to do was hug her. His spirits lifted a bit +as he did. She made a nice armful. Not bad looking, either. + + * * * * * + +"Well," said Amspaugh. "So that's the inside story. How very +interesting. I never heard it before." + +"No, obviously it never got into any official record," Missy said. +"The only announcement made was that there'd been a near accident, +that the Station tried to make counter-missiles out of scoopships, but +that the quick action of NASS _Altair_ was what saved the situation. +Her captain was commended. I don't believe he ever got a further +promotion, though." + +"Why didn't you publicize the facts afterwards?" Lindgren wondered. +"When the revolution began, that is. It would've made good +propaganda." + +"Nonsense," Missy said. "Too much else had happened since then. +Besides, neither Mike nor Jimmy nor I wanted to do any cheap +emotion-fanning. We knew the asterites weren't any little +pink-bottomed angels, nor the people back sunward a crew of devils. +There were rights and wrongs on both sides. We did what we could in +the war, and hated every minute of it, and when it was over we broke +out two cases of champagne and invited as many Earthsiders as we could +get to the party. They had a lot of love to carry home for us." + +A stillness fell. She took a long swallow from her glass and sat +looking out at the stars. + +"Yes," Lindgren said finally, "I guess that was the worst, fighting +against our own kin." + +"Well, I was better off in that respect than some," Missy conceded. +"I'd made my commitment so long before the trouble that my ties were +nearly all out here. Twenty years is time enough to grow new roots." + +"Really?" Orloff was surprised. "I haven't met you often before, Mrs. +Blades, so evidently I've had a false impression. I thought you were a +more recent immigrant than that." + +"Shucks, no," she laughed. "I only needed six months after the +_Altair_ incident to think things out, resign my commission and catch +the next Belt-bound ship. You don't think I'd have let a man like Mike +get away, do you?" + + * * * * * + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Industrial Revolution, by Poul William Anderson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION *** + +***** This file should be named 30971.txt or 30971.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/9/7/30971/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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