Sunday is Three Thousand Years Away and Other SF Classics Read online

  “But the physicists were pretty wary about setting any more limits to the ‘speed obtainable in open space. So they got together and tinkered with the old theories and poked among the ruins for a long time. In the end they shoveled it all overboard and came up with some brand new stuff.

  “This time they said there was a still higher velocity obtainable, something that would make Third Order look like a three-legged cat.

  Furthermore they said that a ship traveling at Fourth Order velocity could actually circumnavigate space. Remember your elementary physics and the curvature of space? The curvature is real. Go far enough and fast enough and you’ll end up in your own back yard—after traveling around all the space there is.

  “That’s what Fourth Order can do—at least that’s the dream we have of it. And if it’s possible, then maybe somebody knows how to do it. That’s why we want to examine so carefully the ships that come from so terribly far. Now, do you understand, darling?”

  He shook her gently and she gave no answer. Then he caught the deep and even rhythm of her sleeping breath. He grinned tenderly and closed his own eyes. He would have to do it all over again at breakfast.

  CHAPTER V

  Glenn reached the hospital at seven. Like everything else connected with Pacific Base the hospital was immense. But its size did not come from mere numbers of beds. It contained more machinery than a medium-sized powerhouse and more apparatus than a chemical plant.

  Every other-world patient required a new set of conditions—incredible temperatures and deadly atmospheres. Deadly from human viewpoint but vital to intergalactic visitors. Many of the alien crews were injured by shipboard accidents that put their vessels out of commission. Many were sick of strange illnesses that were never identified. Nearly a thousand dead were buried in the cemetery in the hills beyond the field.

  As Glenn went up the steps he wondered if the six Centrasi would soon occupy anonymous graves on that dismal hill. To him, as to Nancy, it seemed uncommonly tragic for creatures like these to sicken and die so far from their native world after so magnificent a journey had carried them to Earth.

  He passed through the pleasant corridors, whose walls held back a hundred lethal atmospheres. Gibbs was already in the office. “Didn’t you go home at all?” said Glenn.

  “For a couple of hours. An old man doesn’t need much sleep.”

  “How are they?”

  “One died but Emdor revived. I put a crew of technicians on the job as soon as we got over here. We have a fairly complete picture of the Centrasi biochemical makeup now. That’s what enabled me to revive Emdor.

  “The outlook is not good, however, and I don’t think they’ll survive. Something is seriously disturbing their endocrine system and there just isn’t time enough to find the cause—and then the cure.”

  The day seemed to darken visibly for Glenn. He shook off the depression that the lonely fate of the Centrasi induced. “Can I talk to Emdor?” he said. “That’s the important thing at the moment.”

  “Can’t your bright young technicians figure out how his ship works? Do you have to get him to show you how to run it even while you’re in the process of swiping it?”

  “We aren’t going to steal,” said Glenn evenly. “Nobody’s been in the ship since last night.”

  “If you don’t steal it Kendricks will fire you. That’s your job, didn’t you know—to steal anything anybody brings here that’s of value to us?”

  “I think I know my job and I’ll do it my own way. Can I see Emdor?”

  “Come along.”

  They took the elevator to the third floor, where the Centrasi ward was located. An orderly was, in constant attendance to keep the Centrasi under observation and call the nurses or doctors when necessary. He saluted as the two men entered the anteroom before the ward.

  Through a large, double-thick glass panel the Centrasi could be seen. The four who remained unconscious were inert upon the low couches provided for them. Emdor was sitting up in a slumped position of despair.

  “I’m going to make a physical examination of Emdor while I’m here,” said Gibbs. “Do you want to come in—or talk with him from here?”

  “I’ll go in with you.”

  Gibbs opened the sliding doors of a small chamber. They entered and closed the doors. A light came on automatically as the pressure was sealed. From a cabinet they took rubberized pressure suits and donned them. Small refrigeration and air supply units were shouldered. Gibbs checked the talk circuits. “Ready?”

  Glenn nodded inside the semi-flexible helmet. Gibbs turned up the pressure valves. While they waited for conditions to be equalized with those inside the ward the room and their suits were bathed in sterilizing vapor. A green light flashed at last and Gibbs opened a door leading to the ward.

  * * * *

  Glenn learned long ago that it was unwise to assign human values to facial expressions of extra-galactic visitors but it was difficult to refrain in the case of the Centrasi.

  Large—melancholy eyes were devoid of lids, which gave them an expression of dejected staring. Every line of their bodies seemed to communicate an impression of overpowering burden which they could scarcely bear.

  Dr. Gibbs stepped to the cyberlogue in the ward. “We wish to make an examination. Will you permit, Emdor?”

  The Centrasi arose from the low couch. He approached the examination desk in the corner of the ward. Dr. Gibbs motioned him towards the screen of the color fluoroscope.

  It fascinated Glenn and touched him with a faint sense of inferiority to both the doctors examining and treating one of the alien visitors. Their problem was an infinitely more complex one than that of the physicists and engineers “who merely tried to analyze mechanical and electronic engines.

  The color fluoroscope showed a clear, detailed image of the interior of the Centrasi body. “Emdor’s heart,” said Gibbs. He pointed towards the pulsing organ located in the right lower abdominal cavity. “It has increased in size detectably in the short time they have been here. Though I have no normal by which to compare there appear to be pathological nodules. And there is definite thickening of the arteries.”

  “That sounds like degenerative disease, doesn’t it?”

  Gibbs nodded. “It has that aspect but the question remains as to why it is developing—and with such terrible rapidity. They tell me that the symptoms of lassitude, exhaustion, increased pulse and respiration rates were unknown until a few weeks ago. Their observation of these symptoms began shortly after their first contact with one of our galaxies.”

  “They must have picked up a bug—but what bugs cause such symptoms?”

  Dr. Gibbs shook his head. “They’re more careful explorers than that.

  I’m willing to believe that they did their work under perfectly sterile conditions with respect to themselves. You saw how it was when they approached us.”

  “What else can produce such degeneration?”

  “There are factors which are known to cause it—but it’s very difficult to see how they exist in the present case. We’ll have to wait for more work on it before we reach any conclusions.”

  Glenn watched in silence while Gibbs finished his examination and made careful notes. It seemed to Glenn that the eyes of the. Centrasi held a pleading expression, a desire to speak some thought that he dared, not or could not utter.

  When Gibbs had finished Emdor said, “My request—the request I made to be set under way in the direction of our home world—will you not grant that?”

  Glenn regarded the pleading Centrasi compassionately. He could not hold these creatures against their will, important as was the possibility of their possession of Fourth Order. Actually the decision was no longer his once t e visitors had landed. Kendricks would hold them and Prentiss would—and all the forces of Galaxy law passed in a barbarian age would see that the visitors remained until their ship was ransacked for Fourth Order.

  Glenn shook his head. What was the matter with him? He wanted to see Fourth O
rder as much as any of the rest of them. But he felt the eyes of Gibbs on the back of his neck and he remembered what Nancy had said—“Black-and-white—you can’t make a compromise with things that are right and become a dirty gray. Not if you want to keep on feeling like a human being.”

  The Centrasi were sentient creatures on a plane with man. And the law of affinity between sentient beings of the universe was higher than the barbarous rules of an obsolete day in the history of space-flight.

  “Your request will be granted,” said Glenn slowly, “in case of your death. But we cannot justify ourselves in allowing you to depart with an almost certainly fatal illness. You must allow us an attempt to help you even with our limited knowledge of your requirements. We offer you all the services that we can command.

  “In addition we shall attempt the repair of your ship, so that if you do survive you shall be able to return to your home world. In return, we ask a favor of you—that we be allowed to copy such of your mechanisms as are new and useful to us. Will you grant us such an agreement?”

  Emdor was silent for a long time. He looked carefully at Glenn and Dr. Gibbs through the transparent helmets that protected their faces. His expression was as if Glenn had just delivered a threat—an ultimatum he could not ignore. Glenn felt sick that he should take it in such a light.

  But Emdor finally spoke. “I will agree to that. You are welcome to anything you find of use to you—in the ship. I trust your honor to send us on our way home when we are dead.”

  “Thanks—thank you, Emdor. I will see that the bargain is kept.”

  It would cost him his Navy career if he did have to keep it, he thought. If the Centrasi died their ship would be lawful salvage and the Navy’s right to keep it would be backed up by all the archaic galactic law within a hundred million light years. But it would be kept—the promise would be kept if the Centrasi died.

  Gibbs was watching, assaying his sincerity in the tight bargain he had made for himself. Now, he had to find Fourth Order if it existed in the ship. And Gibbs had to see that at least one of them survived to take the ship home.

  “We know you are too sick to assist in determining the trouble in your ship,” said Glenn, “but if you will allow us to take a Basal Cyberlogue recording of your mind we will have at our command all the information your brain contains regarding the ship. With the aid of that we should be able to make the repairs.”

  “No—I am sorry,” said Emdor sadly. “But that would be of no assistance. We are not technically trained, my companions and I—not in the structure of the ship and its engines. We are astrographers, not engineers. Likewise we are not physicians or perhaps we could assist with the recovery of our own physical bodies.

  “No, in these fields of knowledge, you would find our minds blank. We can contribute nothing that would be of advantage. The mechanisms of the ship are so wholly automatic and ordinarily self-repairing that it is not considered necessary that its users understand its engineering. Because of this we are certain that the damage is tremendous and any chance of repairing it hopelessly small!”

  “You don’t understand how much we can glean from a Basal Cyberlogue,” said “Glenn. “The mere fact that you have piloted the ship indicates knowledge in your minds that will shorten our work considerably. There are thousands of facts you are aware of which would help us.”

  “No.”

  For the first time there came to Emdor’s face an expression of resistance. It was a sudden flame of rage, so out of keeping with his other expressions that Glenn and Dr. Gibbs were taken aback.

  Then the Centrasi crumpled. He had been standing before them and now his body twisted and collapsed upon the low couch.

  Gibbs turned swiftly to a shelf beside the cyberlogue. He grasped a hypodermic and measured a precise quantity of fluid from a bottle. He turned the Centrasi over.

  “You’d better beat it,” he said to Glenn. “This is going to be a long tough haul. I’ll be with them most of the day. I’ll give you a report this afternoon.”

  “Okay, I’ll be waiting for it. You can’t let the poor devils die. And you know what happens to me if they do.”

  “Beat it.”

  CHAPTER VI

  Outside the hospital Glenn mounted one of the small tricycle scooters used for transportation about the field. He headed for the shops and the Centrasi vessel a mile away.

  As he approached the ship he saw an antlike stream of figures moving between it and the shop. Entry was being made into the ship. His order to post guard had been violated.

  Rage obscured his thinking for a moment but reason took over during the delay required to reach the spot. There was only one explanation—Prentiss. The voracious engineer had overstepped himself this time.

  Glenn parked the scooter and strode into the engineering office. Prentiss was not at his desk but Glenn knew that an open phone line would have been run into the ship. He placed the call.

  His assistant answered within a few seconds, his countenance faintly insolent behind the protecting helmet of his suit.

  “I ordered a guard posted, and the ship to remain unviolated,” said Glenn. “Why was it not done?”

  “It was—for a time,” said Prentiss blandly. “The order was then countermanded.”

  “By whom?”

  “Commander Kendricks.”

  “On whose recommendation?”

  Prentiss did not even blink. “Mine,” he said.

  “Keep your line open,” said Glenn. “I’m calling the Commander.”

  It took longer to get Kendricks but his face appeared at last as if he had just been interrupted in the midst of negotiations affecting the destiny of worlds and of nations. He glanced at the two faces appearing on his screen. “Who? Oh, Prentiss!”

  “I’m calling, Commander,” said Glenn evenly. “I ordered a guard posted on the Centrasi ship. The order was broken without my consent.”

  “Captain Baird, five precious hours were wasted as a result of your purposeless order. Five hours in which — “

  “Commander, may I ask—does this mean that I am removed from supervision of this project?”

  For an instant that seemed to stretch into ages Glenn saw the affirmative answer hesitate on Kendricks’ lips. Then the Commander shook his head. He could not risk Glenn’s dismissal on so trivial a matter. After all he had come to Pacific Base on Central’s recommendation. That made a difference.

  “No, you are in command of the Centrasi project, Captain. But there are some matters in which — “

  “Then I must ask that my command be recognized. Otherwise I shall be forced to submit my resignation as of this moment. Confirmation in writing will go forward to Central and — “

  Kendricks’ eyes darkened. “In view of your inexperience at so large a base as Pacific and in view of your lack of understanding of urgency and procedure in such instances as the present — your lack of adequate reason for not going ahead with analysis at once — perhaps it would be possible to find a more suitable place at Pacific, one in which you could become more thoroughly acquainted with the atmosphere and tenor of the place as a whole.”

  “I was not consulted about my reasons for issuing the order,” Glenn said.

  “Please explain them. I was not aware that you had a definite purpose in mind.”

  “The ship is the personal property of the Centrasi. Furthermore it belongs to a race of which we have absolutely no knowledge. From all appearances they have a technology equal to or perhaps superior to anything found in the galaxies of the Council.

  “Prudence would dictate the most diplomatic approach. With this in mind I ordered their vessel protected from intrusion pending an agreement by which we could gain access to their technological processes—including Fourth Order if it exists there.”

  Kendricks glared inquiringly at his son-in-law. “I was informed,” he said, “that the Centrasi were virtually helpless and in no condition to discuss the matter.”

  “They were — last-night. But sinc
e we boast so loudly of our medical facilities it seems justified to place some degree of faith in them. In this case, at least. Dr. Gibbs was successful in reviving the Centrasi leader.”

  “And you were able to negotiate an agreement?—Let me see it?”

  Glenn shook his head. “They have granted permission to copy any useful mechanism we encounter in their ship. But it is verbal, although completely recorded through the cyberlogue and witnessed by Dr. Gibbs.”

  * * * *

  The acknowledgment of defeat in the matter brought a red suffusion to Kendricks’ face and neck. Suppressed rage showed in the eyes that he turned again upon the image of Prentiss.

  “Very good, Captain Baird,” he said. “I apologize for the intrusion into your command. You may proceed. Report directly to me the moment there occurs a variation in circumstances.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, Kendricks.”

  He cut both lines quickly.

  Black-and-white. He was sweating now and his hand was trembling as he took it from the phone switch. He had won that round, he thought, but if he had taken time to think about it carefully he would never have gone so far out on a limb as to give Kendricks the chance to saw it off.

  But Nancy was right. It was black-and-white and you could win by playing it that way instead of being a dirty gray. He could not restrain a minor glee in knowing that Prentiss was at this moment getting a dressing down from his father-in-law. Sometimes nepotism could pay off too well.

  But there was nothing permanent about the triumph—yet. They were out for his scalp and there seemed nothing in the long run that would keep them from getting it. At the moment that didn’t matter, however—he had made a promise to Emdor.

  That did matter.

  He dressed and went out to the ship. A freight hoist had been adapted to the hauling of men and materials into the vessel. So far the ship had not been exhausted of the Centrasi atmosphere due to the possible effect upon the machinery. Prentiss would not slip on a technical detail of that kind, Glenn reflected.