him a break from his troubles.
The edge of his mind
tickled about some problem that was not a Mandelbrot of birds; the
ship, trouble with the ship. As if in response to the rising
distracting thought, the birds began chirping a third tones
translation of the pattern they were flying. He
hadn ’ t programmed it. Music
wasn ’ t his thing but the
program had amused when he ’ d
found it so he ’ d added it
shortly before they ’ d left
home. He was always glad he had. It
wasn ’ t a song really but it
was rhythmic and reflected the changing numeric patterns underlying
the program.
The birds had just started the
non-linear equations when a small puff of wind hit his face. Tiny,
but a warning. Reality was about to come back. The puff came again
and rose, rolling over him pushing the sky and birds
away.
Blackness.
Alder blinked groggily as
low lights lit up the “ virtual tank, ” really
just a small pad in a darkened tube. Sliding back the cover he,
found himself in a quietly lit room of similar tubes. As many as
eighteen of the Duster ’ s crew
could vacation from reality at the same time in this room and there
were two more like it in the ship. They were available twenty-four
hours a day and you could live out pretty much any fantasy you
could program in, with the condition that Elana, the ships
psychologist, regularly reviewed the choices to watch for
potentially dangerous patterns.
It was Elana who had suggested that
Alder spend the last hours before the meeting in the
tank.
“It ’ s insane.” He ’ d said as they lay in their bed the
night before. “ Everyone will think I ’ ve gone mad. ”
Elana had nodded dreamily.
She was curled up against his side naked. Their bodies wore a fine
film of sweat. Alder had passed on the grieving sex but the wave of
stress sex that was sweeping the ship had not missed their cabin.
Her broken arm lay in its cast over his head. Her good arm rested
on his hip. She spoke from the edge of sleep. “ What ’ s happened to us is beyond anything
we imagined possible but it ’ s not crazy. Pilton wants you to do
the talking exactly because you speak clear headed
science. ”
“It ’ s not clear headed science.
It ’ s insanity.
I ’ ll get us all
killed. ”
“Maybe.” Elana agreed, her
knee moving slowly across the front of his thighs. “ But, if you do, it will
be because you found the best odds for us and they just
didn ’ t play
out. ”
Alder sighed and rolled
onto his side so that Elana was spooning him.
“Listen
Sam, ” Elana
murmured into his ear. “ This isn ’ t a space ship any more. This
isn ’ t about
exploration any more. It ’ s about rescue and survival.
You ’ ve always
been the one who could see clearly. You knew the Aft Patterson
field was going to fail. You told Pilton where the safe position to
watch stellar collision was and when to be there. This crew is
going to have to do some impossible things and
it ’ s you, not
Pilton that needs to tell them. They ’ ll believe you. ”
“What about Garson?
She ’ s the chief
executive officer. If Pilton doesn ’ t want to do it, Garson
should. ”
Elna laughed
slightly. “ Come
on Sam. You know Treva isn ’ t right for the job. She lives in
the numbers, not in real life. I don ’ t even think she ’ s been on the bridge since the
explosion.” She snickered again. “ You should see some of
the fantasies she plays in the tanks. ”
“Let ’ s out her aggressions there?” Alder
asked.
“Oh
yeah. ”
Alder
didn ’ t argue. If
there was a weak link in the command of the Duster it was Triva
Garson the Executive Officer. Bookish and brilliant with data,
Garson had a well known penchant for being nowhere to be found when
difficult decisions needed to be made. They lapsed into silence.
Elana ’ s hand had
wandered dreamily down into the nether land under the sheets as if
checking to see if Alder might be up for another round of stress
release or maybe it was just visiting an
The edge of his mind
tickled about some problem that was not a Mandelbrot of birds; the
ship, trouble with the ship. As if in response to the rising
distracting thought, the birds began chirping a third tones
translation of the pattern they were flying. He
hadn ’ t programmed it. Music
wasn ’ t his thing but the
program had amused when he ’ d
found it so he ’ d added it
shortly before they ’ d left
home. He was always glad he had. It
wasn ’ t a song really but it
was rhythmic and reflected the changing numeric patterns underlying
the program.
The birds had just started the
non-linear equations when a small puff of wind hit his face. Tiny,
but a warning. Reality was about to come back. The puff came again
and rose, rolling over him pushing the sky and birds
away.
Blackness.
Alder blinked groggily as
low lights lit up the “ virtual tank, ” really
just a small pad in a darkened tube. Sliding back the cover he,
found himself in a quietly lit room of similar tubes. As many as
eighteen of the Duster ’ s crew
could vacation from reality at the same time in this room and there
were two more like it in the ship. They were available twenty-four
hours a day and you could live out pretty much any fantasy you
could program in, with the condition that Elana, the ships
psychologist, regularly reviewed the choices to watch for
potentially dangerous patterns.
It was Elana who had suggested that
Alder spend the last hours before the meeting in the
tank.
“It ’ s insane.” He ’ d said as they lay in their bed the
night before. “ Everyone will think I ’ ve gone mad. ”
Elana had nodded dreamily.
She was curled up against his side naked. Their bodies wore a fine
film of sweat. Alder had passed on the grieving sex but the wave of
stress sex that was sweeping the ship had not missed their cabin.
Her broken arm lay in its cast over his head. Her good arm rested
on his hip. She spoke from the edge of sleep. “ What ’ s happened to us is beyond anything
we imagined possible but it ’ s not crazy. Pilton wants you to do
the talking exactly because you speak clear headed
science. ”
“It ’ s not clear headed science.
It ’ s insanity.
I ’ ll get us all
killed. ”
“Maybe.” Elana agreed, her
knee moving slowly across the front of his thighs. “ But, if you do, it will
be because you found the best odds for us and they just
didn ’ t play
out. ”
Alder sighed and rolled
onto his side so that Elana was spooning him.
“Listen
Sam, ” Elana
murmured into his ear. “ This isn ’ t a space ship any more. This
isn ’ t about
exploration any more. It ’ s about rescue and survival.
You ’ ve always
been the one who could see clearly. You knew the Aft Patterson
field was going to fail. You told Pilton where the safe position to
watch stellar collision was and when to be there. This crew is
going to have to do some impossible things and
it ’ s you, not
Pilton that needs to tell them. They ’ ll believe you. ”
“What about Garson?
She ’ s the chief
executive officer. If Pilton doesn ’ t want to do it, Garson
should. ”
Elna laughed
slightly. “ Come
on Sam. You know Treva isn ’ t right for the job. She lives in
the numbers, not in real life. I don ’ t even think she ’ s been on the bridge since the
explosion.” She snickered again. “ You should see some of
the fantasies she plays in the tanks. ”
“Let ’ s out her aggressions there?” Alder
asked.
“Oh
yeah. ”
Alder
didn ’ t argue. If
there was a weak link in the command of the Duster it was Triva
Garson the Executive Officer. Bookish and brilliant with data,
Garson had a well known penchant for being nowhere to be found when
difficult decisions needed to be made. They lapsed into silence.
Elana ’ s hand had
wandered dreamily down into the nether land under the sheets as if
checking to see if Alder might be up for another round of stress
release or maybe it was just visiting an
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