Strauss said, “We can't go faster than we're going now,considering the density of the medium, Vil. And at halflight speed we might have to cruise for two years-maybe twenty years”
“Well, you think of a way out. Or the captain.”
Strauss broke contact in despair. There was just no way of carrying on a rational conversation with a Fusionist. He'd heard the theory advanced (and perfectly seriously) that repeated Jumps affected the brain. In the Jump, every tardyon in ordinary matter had to be turned into an equivalent tachyon and then back again to the original tardyon. If the double conversion was imperfect in even the tiniest way, surely the effect would show up first in the brain, which was by far the most complex piece of matter ever to make the transition. Of course, no ill effects had ever been demonstrated experimentally, and no class of hypership officers seemed to deteriorate with time past what could be attributed to simple aging. But perhaps whatever it was in the Fusionists' brains that made them Fusionists and allowed them to go, by sheer intuition, beyond the best of computers might be particularly complex and therefore particularly vulnerable.
Nuts! There was nothing to it! Fusionists were merely spoiled!
He hesitated. Ought he to try to reach Cheryl? She could smooth matters if anyone could, and once old Vil-baby was properly dandled, he might think of a way to put the fusion tubes into operation-hydroxyl or not.
Did he really believe Viluekis could, under any circumstances? Or was he trying to avoid the thought of cruising for years? To be sure, hyperships were prepared for such an eventuality, in principle, but the eventuality had never come to pass and the crews-and still less the passengers-were surely not prepared for it.
But if he did talk to Cheryl, what could he say that wouldn't sound like an order for seduction? It was only one day so far and he was not yet ready to pimp for a Fusionist.
Wait! Awhile, anyway!
Viluekis frowned. He felt a little better having bathed and he was pleased that he had been firm with Strauss.Not a bad fellow, Strauss, but like all of them (“them,” the captain, the crew, the passengers, all the stupid non-Fusionists in the universe) he wanted to shed responsibility. Put it all on the Fusionist. It was an old, old song, and he was one Fusionist who wouldn't take it.
That talk about cruising for years was just a way of trying to frighten him. If they really put their minds to it, they could work out the limits of the cloud and somewhere there had to be a nearer edge. It was too much to ask that they had landed in the precise center. Of course, if they had landed near one edge and were heading for the other-
Viluekis rose and stretched. He was tall and his eyebrows hung over his eyes like canopies.
Suppose it did take years. No hypership had ever cruised for years. The longest cruise had been eighty-eight days and thirteen hours, when one of them had managed to find itself in an unfavorable position with respect to a diffuse star and had to recede at speeds that built up to over 0.9 light before it was reasonably able to Jump.
They had survived and that was a quarter-year cruise. Of course, twenty years
But that was impossible.
The signal light flashed three times before he was fully aware of it. If that was the captain coming to see him personally, he would leave at a rather more rapid rate than he had come.
“Anton!”
The voice was soft, urgent, and part of his annoyance seeped away. He allowed the door to recede into its socket and Cheryl came in. The door closed again behind her.
She was about twenty-five, with green eyes, a firm chin, dull red hair, and a magnificent figure that did not hide its light under a bushel.
She said, “ Anton. Is there something wrong?”
Viluekis was not caught so entirely by surprise as to admit any such thing. Even a Fusionist knew better than to reveal anything prematurely to a passenger. “Not at all. What makes you think so?”
“One of the other passengers says so. A man named Martand.”
“Martand? What does he know about it?” Then, suspiciously, “ And what are you doing listening to some fool passenger? What does he look like?”
Cheryl smiled wanly. “Just someone who struck up a conversation in the lounge. He must be nearly sixty years old, and quite harmless, though I imagine he would like not to be. But that's not the point. There are no stars in view. Anyone can see that, and Martand said it was significant.”
“Did he? We're just passing through a cloud. There are lots of clouds in the galaxy and hyperships pass through them all the time.”
“Yes, but Martand says you can usually see some stars even in a cloud.”
“What does he know about it?” Viluekis repeated. “Is he an old hand at deep space?”
“No-o,” admitted Cheryl. “Actually, it's his first trip, I think. But he seems to know a lot.”
“I'll bet. Listen, you go to him and tell him to shut up. He can be put in solitary for this. And don't you repeat stories like that, either.”
Cheryl put her head to one side. “Frankly, Anton, you sound as though there were trouble. This Martand-Louis Martand is his name-is an interesting fellow. He's a schoolteacher-eighth grade general science.”
“A grade-school teacher! Good Lord, Cheryl-”
“But you ought to listen to him. He says that teaching children is one of the few professions where you have to know a little bit about everything because kids ask questions and can spot phonies.”
“Well, then, maybe your specialty should be spotting phonies, too. Now, Cheryl, you go and tell him to shut up, or I will.”
“All right. But first-is it true that we're going through a hydroxyl cloud and the fusion tube is shut down?”
Viluekis's mouth opened, then shut again. It was quite a while before he said, “Who told you that?”
“Martand. I'll go now.”
“No,” said Viluekis sharply. “Wait awhile. How many others has Martand been telling all this?”
“Nobody. He said he doesn't want to spread panic. I was there when he wasthinking about it, I suppose, and I guess he couldn't resist saying something.”
“Does he know you know me?”
Cheryl's forehead furrowed slightly. “I think I mentioned something about it.”
Viluekis snorted, “Don't you suppose that this crazy old man you've picked up is bound to try to show you how great he is. It's me he's trying to impress through you.”
“Nothing of the sort,” said Cheryl. “In fact, he specifically said I wasn't to tell you anything.”
“Knowing, of course, that you'd come to me at once.”
“Why should he want me to do that?”
“To show me up. Do you know what it's like being a Fusionist? To have everyone resenting you, against you, because you're so needed, because you-”
Cheryl said, “But what's any of that got to do with it? If Martand's all wrong, how would that show you up? And if he's right-Is he right, Anton?”
“Well, exactly what did he say?”
“I'm not sure I can remember it all, of course,” Cheryl said thoughtfully. “It was after we came out of the Jump, actually quite a few hours after. By that time all anyone was talking about was that there were no stars in view. In the lounge everyone was saying there ought to be another Jump soon because what was the good of deep-space travel without a view. Of course, we knew we had to cruise at least a day. Then Martand came in, saw me, and came over to speak to me. -I think he rather likes me.”
“I think I rather don't like him,” said Viluekis grimly. “Go on.”
“I said to him that it was pretty dreary without a view and he said it would stay that way for a while, and he sounded worried. Naturally I asked why he said such a thing and he said it was because the fusion tube had been turned off.”