Address: Centauri by F. L. Wallace (best ereader for graphic novels .txt) 📗

no one came in. Impatiently Nona touched the connections and the scene dissolved, shifted and blurred and when it cleared they were elsewhere, another screen, a different room. A broadshouldered man hunched over a desk, muttering and scratching his scalp. He signed his name several times; one of the sheets he crumpled and discarded, first tearing out his signature. The rest of the documents he dispatched in a slot.

When he turned around they saw it was General Judd.

He reached hastily for the switch but withdrew his hand before it got there. "Well, the orphans have come back, hand in hand." He smirked with calm deliberation. "Or should I say arm in arm, Cameron?"

Docchi noticed it if no one else did. The general hadn't called Cameron a doctor. As far as the Medicouncil was concerned Cameron probably no longer was. It was the final proof, if Docchi had needed it; of which side Cameron was on.

"We have a whole new alignment," continued the general. "Cameron with Nona, and our rebellious engineer with Jeriann."

Docchi's face began to glitter but he caught the light as it surged through his veins, willing it to stop before it showed in his skin. "We haven't come back, General. We didn't think it would hurt to talk, though, if you don't mind."

"I never mind a little chat, Docchi. Always willing to hear what the other fellow has to say—as long as he comes to the point."

The general thought his position was strong enough that he could be as insulting as he wanted. He was very nearly right. "First we'd like to know what you want."

"Our terms haven't changed a bit. Turn around and go back." Judd smiled broadly, an official wolfish expression. "We don't insist you return to the same orbit. In fact it might be better if you moved the asteroid closer to Earth."

Where the Medicouncil could keep a perpetual watch. And where they would swing through the heavens forever in sight of Earth but never a part of it. "Naturally we don't accept," said Docchi. "However we don't reject negotiations completely. There are some of us who might go back for one reason or another—homesickness mostly. If you're willing we can make arrangements to transfer them to your ship."

"Ah, trouble," said the general gravely, trying to conceal his delight. "And I think I know where the trouble is. We came fully prepared for every emergency that we—or you—might meet. The Medicouncil is very thorough."

The picture of Maureen crouched in a darkened room, whimpering through clenched teeth that she didn't want ever to see anyone. The tautness as one set of muscles extended her hand toward the door and another set tore it away. And there were other images, vague now, but in time they could become threatening.

The Medicouncil had foreseen this; there were biologicals on the ship to cure Maureen. Docchi's face twitched and he hoped the general didn't notice. "I haven't checked to see how many are willing to go with you. I will, if it's satisfactory."

"Don't bother," said the general. "In case you weren't listening, I didn't say that we're a cozy little group of altruists, just anxious as hell to take over your responsibilities. The biologicals are here. You'll get them when we land a crew to make sure you do go back. My orders are very plain. We want all of you—or none."

"You know what we'll say," said Docchi. "None of us, of course." The letdown was less than he expected. He'd half known the conditions; it was consistent with all the attitudes toward accidentals—once human but now not quite. It was a typical way to ease their conscience—load the ship with every medical supply—and then refuse those in need unless they all came back. "We're getting along quite nicely without your help," he continued, and if it was less true than he liked, it was more so than the general realized. "One thing, Judd, don't try to land without our consent."

"So you still think we're stupid," said the general affably, at ease in the situation. He didn't expect us to surrender, thought Docchi. Then why had he asked? "We won't attempt to land until you cooperate. You will. Sooner or later you will."

"I hardly think so. We decided that a long time ago."

The general shrugged. "Suit yourself. Remember we're not vindictive, we're not trying to punish you. We do insist that you're sick and helpless. You'll have to come back and be placed under competent medical care." He glanced amusedly at Cameron.

"You don't act as if we're helpless," said Jeriann.

"Dangerously sick," said the general. "Have you ever heard of hysteria, in which the patient must be protected against himself—and he may hurt others?" He was fingering a chart on the desk, had been all the while he was talking. He examined it briefly and then looked up. "What goes on here? How can you talk across this distance?"

"It took you a long time to realize it, General. We're not right next to you." Again it was Docchi's bad habit to talk too much but there was a reason for it and this time he wasn't telling the general anything he wouldn't figure out for himself.

The general's jaw hardened and he pawed futilely at the switch. "How do we do it?" said Docchi. "It's our secret." But the general didn't reply and he wouldn't reveal the information Docchi wanted. Nona finally broke the connection at her end.

Webber breathed noisily as the image faded. He stamped the mechanical foot, echoes rolling through the cavern. "Will somebody tell me why the general's so polite? Why won't he land unless we ask him to?"

"It's not consideration," said Docchi. "The asteroid's much larger than his ship, and nearly as fast. Did you ever try to land on a stationary port?"

Webber looked abashed. "I keep forgetting we're moving."

"Sure. Aside from the fact we could smash his ship and it wouldn't inconvenience us unless it hit the dome, not a very large part of the total surface, what else can he do? Come close and try to send out men in space suits? We veer off and leave them stranded until he picks them up. If he wants to we'll play tag half way across the galaxy with him."

"So he can't land," said Webber, gaining assurance. "Why didn't I think of the reasons?"

"Because one man can't figure out everything," said Jeriann. "If there was just Nona we'd still be back in the solar system. Or Docchi by himself, or Jordan, or Anti. Together we get the answers."

So far—but it might not always hold true. Docchi was worried by the general's lack of concern. He hadn't expected to contact the accidentals but when they'd got in touch with him he wasn't startled. He knew what to do because he had been told. He wasn't a fast thinker who could improvise, his specialty was carrying out a plan.

But if Judd was not at first disconcerted he'd made up for it when he became aware they weren't using conventional communication. Docchi would have given a lot to see the chart the general had. He'd tried to provoke the officer but the ruse hadn't been effective. The general knew the distance between the ship and the asteroid, but he hadn't revealed it.

Webber walked noisily to the scanner, peering into the circuits. "The general's communication experts will be working overtime for a while," he remarked.

"For the rest of the voyage. They'll know the scanner's a gravity device but that won't help them." It was another count against them. Communication at practically unlimited range was not a prize easily given up.

But what they really wanted was Nona. Indirectly she'd given them back the gravity drive, and now this. And they would think, rightly, that there was more where these inventions came from.

He wished Anti were here to advise them. Docchi looked around to ask Jordan about her but he was already gone. Cameron was standing quietly in a corner with Nona, talking to her in a low voice while she smiled and smiled. Webber was still looking into the scanner.

Only Jeriann was waiting for him. Now that the general had mentioned it, Docchi wondered if she really was waiting for him—and for how long.

12

Anti looked up at the dome. It was all she could see with comfort. Stars changed less than she would have believed. The patterns were substantially the same as on Earth. Brightness varied with rotation, that was the main difference. Now those overhead were brilliant and that meant she was facing the direction they were travelling. She wondered which was Alpha and which Proxima Centauri. She never had been able to recognize them.

She extended one arm, splashing acid. Lately there were times she had to keep moving if she didn't want to freeze. It wasn't pleasant but she could endure it for the sake of walking some day. There were degrees of helplessness and no one else, even here, was completely immobilized, confined completely to a specialized environment. She had forgotten much of the past and couldn't see far into the future. Perhaps it wasn't worth looking into.

"Quiet, you'll scare the fish."

She paddled around until she could see Jordan. "If you find fish who can live in this, throw them in. I'll welcome any kind of company."

"Maybe Cameron can mutate fish to stand the cold," suggested Jordan. "Or if that fails he can always transfer the fungus to them."

"I don't wish it on anything, even a fish."

"It wouldn't hurt. Besides, it might make them immortal."

"Thanks. I like fish, but not as playmates. They're better on a plate."

"Barbaric," said Jordan. "I prefer scientific food, synthetics. Wholly removed from the taint of the living creature. Something that didn't die in quick agony so that you could smack your lips. Germ free, compounded of balanced elements."

"Came from nature myself," said Anti. "Uncivilized though it is, I prefer nutrition from the same source."

"You're confusing yourself," commented Jordan. "Synthetics contain everything necessary for life. When was the last time Jeriann ate?"

"Longer than she cares to remember. Besides you're quibbling. She gets concentrates, which is not the same as synthetics."

"A minor point," conceded Jordan, coming closer. "However I didn't intend to talk about food."

"I don't care what it is as long as you talk. I need conversation too."

"There's Nona," began Jordan.

"Exceptions, exceptions. What do I care except that I get tired of staring up at nothing? Sometimes I wish they'd planted the tank at the entrance to the hospital. People'd have to stop and talk."

"For a while I was thinking of that."

"No you don't," said Anti. "There are useful things that have to be done."

"I abandoned the idea when I considered what your viewpoint would be. But we did move the tank once."

"Never again. Anyway geepees are scarce and who else could do it?"

"I could," said Jordan. He added quickly: "It's a joke." He swung along the tank until he was as close as he could get without toppling in. "Instead of something you'd forget once I left, I brought a gift."

"What is it? I can't see from this angle."

"It's a belt."

"You doll. It's beautiful."

"No it's not—merely wonderful."

"I know. Save it for me, till later. It will go swoosh if acid touches it."

"It positively will not react. I took care of that. There are some metals that are just about inert. It wasn't easy to cover it but I did."

"You made it for me. You shouldn't have."

Jordan puzzled himself with it. He hadn't much to do with it. At the most he'd made a protective covering for it. Nona was solely responsible for the way it functioned. And there was no doubt whom she intended it for; that was why he hadn't hesitated taking it. And yet, why hadn't she turned it over to Anti? It was working perfectly the first time he saw it.

The logical answer was that it wasn't in operating condition, that she couldn't make it work and had laid it aside for further inspiration. But this led to nonsensical conclusions involving the repair robot. He refused to accept the conclusions. "Let's say I didn't make it entirely. I added to what was existing." He swung the belt out to her.

"Are you sure it will fit? I'm quite big."

"Originally it wouldn't. I had to make it longer."

Anti examined the belt at length. "Hammered link effect. Primitive but striking."

Jordan blushed. "I thought it was a pretty smooth job. I had to do it by hand."

"It is," exclaimed Anti. "You have a strong unconscious sense of design." With trepidation she lowered it in the acid and when nothing happened she fastened it. "There," she said in triumph. "The first piece of jewelry in years. I feel like a new woman."

"You are, Anti. Believe me, you are."

She laughed giddily. "It's silly, but I do believe it. It's amazing what jewelry will