“UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ARE NOT PERMITTED TO USE THIS TERMINAL.”
Linc staggered back, startled. “Wha… Are you Jerlet?”
“UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ARE NOT PERMITTED TO USE THIS TERMINAL.”
“Jerlet! I need help!”
“UNAUTHORI—” The voice stopped for an eyeblink. “WHAT SORT OF ASSISTANCE DO YOU REQUIRE?”
It didn’t sound at all like Jerlet’s voice. But it was somebody’s voice.
“The pump… the main pump for the crop tanks,” Linc said. “I need help to fix it.”
The screen hummed for a moment. Then, “MAINTENANCE AND REPAIR HYDROPONICS SECTION: CODE SEVEN-FOUR-FOUR.”
“What?” Linc said. “I don’t understand.”
The screen suddenly showed a picture of the buttons on the desk. Three of the buttons had red circles drawn around them.
“MAINTENANCE AND REPAIR INFORMATION FOR HYDROPONICS EQUIPMENT. PUNCH CODE SEVEN-FOUR-FOUR.”
It took Linc a while to figure out what the strange words meant. He poked at the buttons indicated, and some even stranger symbols appeared on the screen. He told the screen that the pump was broken. The screen jabbered more meaningless words at him, then showed some pictures. Gradually, Linc realized that they were pictures of the pump: its insides as well as its outside.
It took a long time, so long that Linc was certain the workday would begin and the farmers would come in and discover him there.
In pictures, the screen showed him that the tools he needed were stored in a special wall panel. Linc found the panel; it hadn’t been touched for so long that it was crusted over with dirt, but he pulled it open with back-straining desperation.
Some of the tools the screen’s voice spoke about just didn’t work. Something it called a “torch” stayed cold and lifeless, even when the pictures showed that a flame was supposed to come out of it.
Maybe I just don’t know how to work it, Linc thought.
But the screen was patient, and staggered Linc with its flood of knowledge. With pictures and the steady, unhurried voice, it showed Linc how to unfasten the pump’s cover, disconnect its input and output pipes, check the seals and screens and motor. Linc, sitting in the midst of scattered bolts, metal pieces, lengths of plastic pipe, found that the main inner chamber of the pump was clogged with weeds and dead leaves. He cleaned it as thoroughly as he could, then followed the screen’s instructions in reassembling the machine.
“ACTIVATE THE POWER SWITCH,” the voice said at last, and the picture showed a yellow arrow pointing to a tiny switch at the base of the pump.
Linc went back and pushed at the little toggle. The whole pump seemed to shudder and clatter for an instant, then settled down to a smooth steady hum. Above his head, in the crop tanks, Linc could hear the sudden gurgle of nutrient fluid flowing again.
He should have felt exultant. Instead, he merely felt tired. He managed a weak smile, went back to the screen, and said:
“Thank you, whoever you are.”
The screen did not reply. Linc clicked it off, then turned just in time to see the first group of farmers entering the big, echoing room.
6
Linc’s first impulse was to run.
But as the farmers noticed him there, sweat- and dirt-streaked, they seemed more surprised and curious than angry.
Why should I be afraid? Linc asked himself. I fixed the pump. There’s nothing to be afraid of.
The farmers were walking up to him, slowly, looking puzzled.
“Linc,” said a lanky girl called Hollie, “what are you doing here?”
“What’s going on?” Slav’s strong voice came from behind them. The broad-faced, sandy-haired leader of the farmers pushed past Hollie to stare at Linc.
Linc was so tired that all he wanted to do was sleep. He pointed to the pump. “I fixed it,” he said. “I saved the crops.”
“What? You must be crazy,” Slav said. “Nobody can fix the pump. It’s dead.”
Linc grinned at him. “Go see for yourself.”
A crowd of farmers was gathering around them now. With a good-humored shrug, Hollie said, “Won’t hurt to look.”
She went to the pump, bent down and listened, put a hand on it.
“It’s working, all right!” she shouted.
Everyone rushed to the pump, leaving Linc standing alone. Slav clambered up to the top of the nearest crop tank. A few other farmers followed him, bumping each other in their haste to climb the metal rungs. Others dashed to other tanks.
“The nutrient’s flowing again!” someone yelled.
They all rushed back toward Linc. Slav grabbed him in a bear hug that almost cracked his spine. The others pounded Linc on the shoulders, laughing and shouting, congratulating and thanking him. They half-carried him toward the airlock doors.
“Hey, no—” Linc objected weakly. “Let me go… all I want is some sleep.”
They left him at the doors and turned back to their work. They were all smiling. One voice picked up an ancient work song, something about Hi Ho, whatever that was. Other voices joined the chant.
Linc smiled, too, as he headed down the passageway toward his bunk.
He was jolted out of his sleep when one of Monel’s guards kicked his door open. Before Linc could get up from the bunk, they were on him, three of them. Two grabbed his arms and yanked him to his feet.
The third said, “Monel wants to see you. Now.”
They pushed Linc out into the corridor and led him down to Monel’s little room.
He was sitting at the desk, fingering the plastic chips. Jayna sat back in a corner, looking frightened, staring at Monel with big unblinking eyes. Monel himself seemed furious. He was flexing the chips in his fingers, bending them as if he wanted to break them into tiny bits.
For a long time Linc simply stood there, crowded against the doorway by the three husky guards.
Finally, Monel looked up at him. “You tampered with the food tank.” His voice was pure acid.
“I fixed the pump.”
“You touched a machine when you knew it was forbidden!”
Linc repeated stubbornly, “I fixed it.”
“That’s a crime! And you know it.”
Stepping up closer to the desk and leaning his knuckles on it so that he loomed over Monel, Linc said, “I made sure that we’ll have enough food for everybody. So you won’t have to decide who’s going to eat and who should starve.”
“You committed a crime,” Monel insisted.
“That’s for the priestess to decide; not you.”
Monel glared at Linc for a moment. Then a teeth-baring smile spread across his face. “Oh, she’ll say it. Don’t worry about that. She’ll say it, and you’ll be condemned to outer darkness. Or maybe you both will!”
They let Linc go back to his room while the workday wore on. After lastmeal everyone would gather in the meeting room to hear Magda’s decision about Linc.
He sat on his bunk and stared at the wall. Magda won’t sentence me, she’ll thank me. I did it for her. She’ll be glad.
But still he worried.
The time for midmeal passed. Linc didn’t bother going out to the galley, and no one brought him any food.
But then he heard swift footsteps outside his door. The door slid open, and Magda stepped into his room.
He stood up and reached for her.