claxon sounded stridently, and the inflectionless voice of therobopilot said: "Sixty seconds."
I got into the indicated gee couch and squirmed around seeking somemeasure of comfort. It had been designed for a much larger man, and Igritted my teeth in the expectation of taking a beating.
* * * * *
After a bruising few minutes, we went weightless, then the servos put usback on internal gravity, and the crew unstrapped.
They ignored me studiously; it wasn't entirely bad manners; there'splenty to be done in the interval prior to the first hop, and it isn'tall in just checking co-ordinates and programming master con.
The usual space plan calls for several accelerations and a lot ofdistance between Terra-Luna proximity and Solar System departure. ButSpace Regs are disregarded on Priority One missions. So, for probablyless than an hour, things were going to be busy in Astrogation.
I retrieved my kit and looked for an unoccupied cubicle.
GS star ships are designed to accommodate twenty-four men in reasonablecomfort--a figure arrived at more historically--the sum ofexperience--than arbitrarily, as the minimum number necessary for theadequate exploration of a new star system.
It breaks down this way: six men to a team, four teams maximum; threefor planetary grounding, one for ship's con; since any given team can doeither task, they are interchangeable, who gets which depends uponrotation; three for exploration, then, because averages spread overseveral generations of interstellar capability bear out the fact thatmother primaries generally possess no more than three planets that arein the least amicable to humans.
I was more than cursorily familiar with the drill. The basic requirementfor Interstel is five years' service with a survey team. I'd spent nine.Which is another reason for general GS enmity: the turncoat syndrome.That and the fact that prospective agents are not even considered unlessthey rate in the top one per cent in service qualification and fitnessreports: the jealousy angle. I'd known Moya from my last regular dutyship. I'd worked up from assistant under his tutelage. I'd been readyfor the Team Co-ordinator/Master Spaceman exams when I'd applied fortransfer. Moya had raged for hours. But he'd given me a first-raterecommendation. Call it service pride.
I was just getting a start on the vid tapes when the cubicle's paneldilated and Moya stamped in, bristling like a game cock.
"What's all this about Epsilon-Terra?"
I removed the ear bead and grinned at him.
"Hello, Tony, you old space dog! You're looking fine. What happened? Didthey pull you off leave, too?"
He held the acid face until the panel closed, then he brightened alittle. At least, he didn't refuse my proffered hand.
He stood fists on hips, glaring at me.
Finally, he growled: "I had hopes you'd wash out. When I heard you'dmade it, I was plenty disappointed." He shook his head. "You seemhealthy enough, but I still think it's a waste of a good spacer." Andthat, apparently, was as close as he was going to come to saying that hewas glad to see me again, because, in the next breath, he reverted toStarship Master.
"Now, let's have the nexus. All I know is that I got orders to round upa short crew, was handed a space plan with co-ordinates that wereoriginally filed for GSS 231 a few months back, with an ultimatedestination of a planet I orbited five years ago."
"You've been there?"
"I just said so, didn't I? Don't they teach you vacuum cops to listen?"
I gave him the background.
He nodded soberly a couple of times, but his only comment was: "I heardrumors." Then he said: "That's all I've got time for now. We make ourfirst jump shortly. That'll take us to where 231 went on GSM. From thereon out, we follow her plan precisely."
"Until we locate and grapple, Tony, then we start making our ownmistakes."
"I don't doubt that."
Moya moved to leave, paused, said over his shoulder: "What's this aboutold Ben Stuart being cashiered for misconduct?"
"It's true."
His back stiffened and his hands clenched. He turned to face me again."I went through the Academy with Ben. How about doing me a favor? Forold times sake. Tell me who it was that put the finger on him. Just giveme a name. I might spot it sometime on a register."
I figured there was no sense prolonging the agony.
"O.K. Ivor Vincent Callum."
Moya's face blanched; he took a backward step and uttered somethingunder his breath that sounded like the Spanish equivalent of--
He turned abruptly, opened the panel, and stalked out.
Somehow I expected him to come back and ask for details, but he didn'tshow.
* * * * *
I won't dwell on the trip. Any schoolboy who watches tridee space operascan quote chapter and verse and use phrases like "paraspace hops" and"rip-psyche phenomenon" as trippingly as "Hey, Joey, let's playswap-strip!" Citizens from Venus and Mars, vacationing on Terra, speakknowingly, too, whenever they can bring themselves to cease complainingabout the gravity, crowded conditions, and regimentation, and cansquelch the bragging about how well they're doing on good old whatever.But don't let them kid you. GSM drive is restricted to _interstellar_transport. Colonists from the nearer systems are picked people,stiff-backed pioneers, who don't sob to come "home" every time theirparticular planet completes a circuit around its primary; and, when theydo return, they're generally too busy lobbying for essentials to bothertelling tall tales. So, comparatively few people are really familiarwith star ships and the ins and outs of paraspace. Ask a starman, youwon't have any trouble recognizing one, even in mufti; or, better yet,get a spool labeled: "THE CONQUEST OF PARASPACE: A History of theOrigins and Early Application of Star Drive." It's old, but good, and itwas written especially for laymen.
I'll say this: it took about a week. Sure paraspace hops are, to allintents and purposes, instantaneous, but there is a limit to thecapacity of the GSM drive, and regulations restrict the jumps to atoleration well within that capacity. We might have made it sooner hadwe not been bound to follow 231's space plan--but not much. Once a planhas been filed, only an emergency can justify deviation. So, if you'llpardon the expression, let's just say that interstellar distances areastronomical.
Every time we came back into objective space--and I'd managed torecapture my soul--I applied myself to the tapes.
I got little from Moya, and not because of enmity. Even after refreshinghis memory, he couldn't offer much. Although he had been master of theship that had first remarked E-T, he hadn't set foot upon its surface.
The planet was comparatively undistinguished.
It was about the size of Melna-Terra, had an atmosphere with a goodbalance of nitrogen and oxygen, plus carbon dioxide, argon, et cetera,was mostly surface water, yet offered polar ice caps and a reasonableland area, as taken in the aggregate, although present in the form ofscattered, insular masses. The largest of these, about half the size ofTerra's Australia, was a comfortable number of degrees above the equatorand had been selected as representative for detailed examination.Briefly: standard terrain--a balance between mountains, desert, andplain; flora, varied; fauna, primitive--plenty of insect life, enough tokeep an entomologist occupied for years, but not much for specialists inthe other branches of zooelogy; warm-blooded creatures comparativelyrare; and, according to the original survey team, nothing bacterial thathad overburdened Doc Yakamura's polyvalent vaccine; the kind of planetthat pleased Galactic Survey because it looked promising for futurecolonization, come the day and the need.
"The type that skeptics like me view with grave suspicion," I told Moya."Like saints, women of unblemished reputation, heroes, politicians--"
"And all Interstel agents," Tony offered dryly.
In the interim, since the divulgence of my part in the Stuart affair,Moya had thawed somewhat. After all, he and I had been friends at onetime, and the present situation held no brief for head-on, personalityclashes. The phrase "all in the same boat" applies with particularmeaning to spacers. Tony
undoubtably figured that 231 might have beenhis ship. He even went so far as to express an interest in seeing E-Tfrom the ground level.
"I work alone, Tony," I said. "But thanks for the offer. Tell you what:I'll strike a compromise. If I get into serious trouble, it'll be you Ishout for. All right?"
Moya scowled. "Probably a wild goose chase anyway."
But he said it without enthusiasm.
It reads like this: regs require that messenger vehicles be returned tothe Solar System on their miniature equivalents of paraspace drive,periodically, with complete information as to conditions encountered,work in progress, et cetera. None had been received from