Good lord, he's right, Richard thought, trying to hold his expression straight. Ian Lacklin is in command of a ship, not some damned faculty subcommittee meeting, where the worst possible blunder that could be committed was that a room might get painted the wrong color, or another one of Ellen's damnable surveys would be forced upon a group of unwilling students.
"That scares you now, doesn't it?" Ian asked softly. "We are cruising out into totally unknown territory, in a vessel that is known to be unreliable, with a leader who is not fit to lead."
"So, what is the alternative?"
"You want the job?" Ian asked hopefully.
"Are you crazy? At least you're sober more than half the time." He paused.
"There's always Ellen…"
"She'd push both of us out the airlock at the first chance, if we ever gave command to her," Ian replied sadly.
"And after that 'crazy Stasz plays with star drive' routine, I think that issue is settled, as well," Richard responded. "So, friend, that leaves only you-a woolly-headed, slightly wimpish, and, in fact, altogether cow ardly history professor as our fearless leader. Think of it, Ian, you might be famous someday-statues to our five-and-a-half-foot, overweight, bespectacled, receding hairlined
…"
"Enough. You know, Richard, you're a great psychol ogist and a real help to someone's fragile ego."
"Oh, come on, Ian, you'll do all right. After all, if we don't come back, well, I guess that means we don't come back."
"Remarkably profound of you."
"Have another pull then, my friend, and let thine ego be restored."
For several long minutes the two friends sat in silence. Richard, not making the situation easy on Ian, kept him under a steady stare, trying to hold eye contact that Ian attempted to avoid. Finally the barrier broke down.
"There's one other thing," Ian whispered.
"I thought so." And there was no note of triumph in his voice, but rather a genuine sense of concern. Some thing had been gnawing at Ian from the moment of de parture; maybe he'd finally get the answer.
"You know history is not the most popular of subjects back home," Ian said sadly. "What with this New Re naissance of High Tech that everyone is chasing, some of the early lessons have been forgotten. But ever since we launched, I've been thinking about a point that I daresay the folks back home never considered."
"And that is?"
"Montezuma and Cortez."
"I don't follow you."
"You know the story-Cortez and his six hundred kicked the Aztec Empire into oblivion."
"Yeah, I have some faint recollection of it."
"I've been thinking, you know, just letting my imagination run. Suppose Cortez had mixed it up with some thing different, something with, say, nukes-what would have happened to Spain then?"
"You've got me, Ian, Let's hear this theory of yours."
"I know these people, these people out of our past. I know them better than I know my neighbor, my students, or in some ways, even you, my friend. You see, Richard, I've devoted my life to studying those explorers and set tlers out of the long-distant twenty-first century. I can speak Old English, Old Russian, and Old Japanese fluently, and I can get by in half a dozen others. I've read every single text and document that deals with the great Exodus. I feel more at home with the people of that period than I do in my own age. I can sense their wonder, their purpose, their passionate drive to settle space."
His voice drifted off for a moment, as if he was lost in thought, then suddenly he continued.
"Theirs was a grand epic, Richard, those first explor ers, and now I'm afraid."
"Why?"
"Can't you see? To me it is a dream, a romance. Haven't you ever idealized a woman from afar? Think back to when you were young, Richard. Think of that heart- stopping moment, when the mere sight of her was enough."
Richard smiled vaguely and nodded.
"That is the life of a historian. An idealized romance from afar. And remember this, as well, Richard, remem ber when she was no longer idealized but came to your embrace. And then what finally happened?"
And Richard nodded sadly and understood.
"That is my first fear, my friend. The fear that an idealist has when reality finally confronts him. But the fears run deeper."
"As is to be expected from a typically neurotic type such as yourself. Hell, man, you wouldn't be happy if you only had one level of fear."
Ian shot him a look of reproach.
"Sorry. Go on then."
"As I said, I know these people better than I know my own contemporaries. I know the circumstances of why and how they left. Richard, with well over half a thousand units somewhere out there, has one of them ever come back?"
"Well, as I understand it, you just can't turn a million tons of mass around and 'come back,' as you say. At least I know that much about physics. The energy requirements alone-"
"Ah, but we're talking about ten centuries, my friend. Why didn't our exploratory teams to the nearest fifteen stars find some sign of them? By God, man, it's logical to assume that some of them would have checked out Centauri or Barnard's. Damn it, there's even a gas giant and iron-nickel asteroids around Barnard's. But we didn't find a single sign of them there. And for that matter, one of them could easily have looped around a star and re turned. But not a sign, not a single damn sign."
"And you mention the exploratory teams that haven't come back."
"I've wondered on that, as well, and I'll place good money that our friend Stasz thinks about it."
"What are you driving at, then?"
"Suppose they found something that wouldn't let them come back?"
"Come on now, Ian, when I said you were neurotic I was serious, but good heavens, man, don't make me di agnose you as a paranoid, as well."
"Interesting comment, Richard, 'good heavens.' What makes us associate the two?" Ian muttered as if musing to himself. "Must be medieval tradition and concepts. The heavens aren't good, Richard, they'll kill you in an in stant. Just think, man, we've got this thin wall"-he tapped the side of the hull, which echoed hollow in the room. "That and an ethereal force field beyond are our only protection as we slip by at translight speed. Think if the nav system miscalculated and ran us up on a chunk of rock bigger than my fist, you wouldn't have 'good heav ens' then."
"Stop trying to make me paranoid, too," Richard mut tered. And with his eyes fixed on the hull behind Ian, he washed down another swallow of gin.
"But don't worry about it," Ian said with a soft smile, obviously pleased that he had caused a spark of fear in the usually unflappable Richard. "If it did happen there would be such a tremendous flash of energy that we would be vaporized before our synapses could register one screaming instant of fear."
"Aren't you comforting. "
As if in response, a faint shudder ran through the vessel and Richard winced. lan's heart skipped a beat, but he tried not to show it. The translight nav system worked after all, even while they were talking; sensing an ap proaching obstacle, it had shifted them around the mass, the inertia-damping system compensating for all but a fraction of the lateral forces.
"Shall we return to what you were saying?" Richard said softly.
"Ah, yes, my fears of the hostile universe. After all, if one is going to be afraid, why not make it a really big fear? Why not fear the whole universe? Tell me, good doctor, is there a word in your lexicon for an abnormal fear of the entire universe?"