"Dr. Lacklin, do you understand anything at all con cerning what we've been talking about?"
Ian tried to sound self-assured, but only a mousy "no" squeaked out of him.
A forefinger was suddenly pointed into lan's chest and with each word spoken the Chancellor stabbed at Ian with such force that Ian feared a rib might be broken.
"Dr. Lacklin, at the beginning of this semester a grant proposal left the history department under your signature. Your department, and your signature, Dr. Lacklin. And this document was addressed to the Department of Deep Space Survey and Exploration. Last year the DSSE an nounced that an Alpha 3 translight survey ship would be released from active service and placed at the disposal of the Ministry of Education, and grant proposals would be accepted as to its implementation and use. Do you follow me so far, Dr. Lacklin?"
"Yes."
"You are aware, of course, Dr. Lacklin, that we have only returned to space within the last hundred years and that translight was only discovered within the last fifteen years. I am sure, Dr. Lacklin, that you realize that there are only eleven translight ships available, and the Alpha 3 is the first such model."
"Yes, I am a professor of space history," Ian replied, trying to sound insulted over such a simple question.
"Good. I wasn't sure on that point." The Chancellor cut him an icy gaze.
"The Alpha 3 was to be retired," Ian interjected. "The damn thing is unsafe; all the other ships of the same design have never returned."
"Not to worry." And the Chancellor laughed. "I've been assured that little problem has been cleared up. But as I was telling you, Dr. Lacklin, the grant proposal under your signature requested use of that vehicle and, I quote, 'to attempt reestablishment of contact with the seven hundred colonies that abandoned near-Earth space on the eve of the Holocaust War. This will be accomplished by consulting those surviving records, recently uncovered, which indicate the courses of the colonies. Using translight propulsion it will be a simple matter of following the original courses and thus overtaking the units,' unquote."
The Chancellor fixed Ian with a deadly, penetrating gaze. "Dr. Lacklin, did you write this grant proposal?"
Ian looked up and started to answer.
"The truth, Dr. Lacklin, or you'll regret it!"
"No." His answer came out as a timid squeak.
In exasperation the Chancellor slammed the proposal onto lan's desk. A flurry of dust swirled around the two men. The Chancellor suddenly reached across the table, grabbed hold of the proposal, and threw it into lan's lap.
"Then look at this, damn it!"
Ian picked it up and, adjusting his glasses, he peered owllike at the cover.
" 'A proposal for the implementation of the Alpha 3 unit for the reestablishment of contact with colonial units of the twenty-first century, submitted by Dr. Ian Lacklin, Provincial University System.'
"
Ian suddenly felt very sick.
He pulled open the proposal and started to scan it.
"Turn to the last page, damn you!"
Ian obeyed the shouted command.
Proposed Crewing of the Alpha 3 Discovery
Understanding the extreme limitation on crew space and taking into consideration the isolation from any higher authority, it should be realized that the crew must deal with all contingencies related to establishing contact with human colonies while out of contact with Earth. Crew proposal is as follows:
1. Pilot of the Alpha 3 unit with previous expe rience in deep space flight and isolation.
2. Medical/biological technician with an under standing of medical situations unique to the twenty- first century, since all units contacted will have been isolated with their particular varieties of microbes for the last 1107 years.
3. Sociological/psychological personnel capable of dealing with the ramifications of cross-cultural exposure and shock.
4. Assistant to the program director, capable of logging all reports, administering to all reporting, filing, and data management.
5. Program director, versed in twenty-first- century history, in particular relating to all aspects of the establishment of the self-contained colonies starting in 2019 until the decision to flee near-Earth space in the year 2078. The program director must be familiar with each of the colonial units in ques tion, their engineering, sociological backgrounds, cultural makeup, and administrative organizations.
Sweat broke out on lan's forehead. He stopped for a moment to look up at the Chancellor and was met with a glacial stare. He returned to his reading.
The program director should have a full under standing of the process leading to the decision by the seven hundred colonial units to abandon Earth on the eve of the Holocaust War. The program director should be familiar with the trajectories se lected by the units when evacuating near-Earth space and have reasonable estimates of distance traveled by each unit since departure. All such data is cur rently on file with the author and is available upon request.
Ian groaned softly and looked up imploringly at the Chancellor.
"Look at that signature," the Chancellor hissed.
Ian did as ordered and stared numbly at the signature and personal seal placed upon the last page of the pro posal. They were his, all right.
"Can you explain this?!" the Chancellor demanded.
Ian could only shake his head.
"Are those your signature and personal seal?"
"Yes," he replied weakly.
"Then, good God, man, this is your grant proposal!"
"But I didn't write it."
"Oh, yes you did, Dr. Lacklin, you most certainly did. My contact over at the Ministry has informed me that the grant has been approved and that the decision has already been made that you, as the author of this grant, shall lead the mission.
"Dr. Lacklin, I don't give a good damn if you wrote this thing or not, but as far as anyone is now concerned, you are the sole author of it and will take responsibility as mission head. I'll not have it said that this document got past my office and then turned out to be a fake. I'd be the laughingstock of the profession. Dr. Lacklin, this one is yours and you are going for a ride with it!"
"I can't!"
"What do you mean, you can't? I don't think I'm hearing you correctly."
"You know and I know that those Alpha 3s never came back. Besides, I get deathly sick anytime I travel."
In his panic he could already conjure up a hundred possible deaths in the mad venture-they could have an engine overload, or misnavigation could send them into a black hole. And the quarters, they were so cramped the claustrophobia alone would kill him. He wasn't going out there, and that was that. He was a historian, a dealer in the safeness of the past-not some crazed adventurer. He simply reported and glorified it all. It sure as hell wasn't his job to go out and actually do it.
The Chancellor settled back in his chair and with a sudden change of tack started to smile gently. "Come, come, Dr. Lacklin, think of the opportunity. This is your field. Think of the lucrative offers upon your return. By heavens, man, the publishers would even snatch up that book you're working on."
"I can't go. I'm afraid of flying."
"Dr. Lacklin, think how ridiculous we'd look if it sud denly came out that you were not the author of this grant."
"I don't care if I look ridiculous."
"But I care, Dr. Lacklin. I most certainly care." There was a note of threat in the voice that carried a distinct warning.
"Look, Ian"-and the Chancellor leaned forward, trying to put on the suave charm though it was obvious that near-homicidal rage churned just below the surface-"I'll make it as plain as can be. This will put our university on the map. And it will be one of my department people who did it. The regional board of directors will take very favorable notice of a campus with such a success."