Fisher looked appalled. ‘Is the chance of fatal strain certain?’
‘No, nothing is certain. It's a statistical matter. A ship might undergo a million transitions - or a billion - with nothing happening. It might be destroyed, on the other hand, on the very first transition. The chances, however, increase rapidly with the number of transitions.
‘I suspect, then, that Rotor embarked on its trip understanding very little about the dangers of transition. Had they known more, they would never have left. There is a very good chance, then, that they experienced some sort of strain that might have been weak enough to allow them to “limp” to the Neighbor Star or one that was strong enough to blow them completely out of existence. Therefore, we might find a hulk, or we might find nothing at all.’
‘Or we might find a Settlement that has survived,’ said Fisher rebelliously.
‘Admitted,’ said Wendel. ‘Or we might ourselves be strained against the odds, be destroyed, and, for that reason, find nothing. I ask you not to be prepared for certainties but for probabilities. And remember that those who think about the matter, without some accurate knowledge of hyperspatial theory, are not likely to come to reasonable conclusions.’
Fisher fell into a profound and clearly depressed silence, while Wendel watched him uneasily.
62Tessa Wendel found Station Four a weird environment. It was as though someone had built a small Settlement, but fitted it out to be a combination of nothing more than a laboratory, an observatory, and a launching platform. It had no farms, no homes, none of the appurtenances of a Settlement, however small. It was not even equipped with a spin that would set up an adequate pseudo-gravitational field.
It was, in fact, nothing but a spaceship with acromegaly. It was clear that, although it could be permanently occupied, provided there was a continuous drizzle of food, air and water supplies (there was some recycling, but it wasn't efficient), no single individual could remain there for very long.
Crile Fisher made the wry comment that Station Four was like an old-fashioned space station from the early days of the Space Age that had unaccountably survived into the twenty-third century.
In one respect, though, it was unique. It presented a panoramic view of the Earth-Moon system. From the Settlements that orbited Earth, the two bodies could rarely be seen in their true relationship. From Station Four, however, Earth and Moon were never more than fifteen degrees apart, and as Station Four revolved around the center of gravity of that system (roughly equivalent to revolving about the Earth), the changing pattern of the two worlds, both in position and phase, and the changing size of the Moon (depending on whether it was on the Station's own side of Earth, or on the opposite side) was a never-ending wonder.
The Sun was blocked out automatically by the Artec device (Wendel had to ask to find out that that stood for ‘Artificial Eclipse’ device) and only when the Sun moved too near either Earth or Moon in the station's sky was the view spoiled.
Wendel's Settlement background showed up now, for she enjoyed watching the Earth-Moon interplay, mostly (she explained) because it made it clear she was no longer on Earth.
She said as much to Fisher, who smiled dourly. He had noticed her quick glance to right and left as she said it.
He said, ‘I see you don't mind telling me that, even though I'm an Earthman and might resent it. But, never fear, I won't pass it along.’
‘I'd trust you with anything, Crile.’ She smiled at him happily. He had changed considerably since that crucial conversation when they had first reached Station Four. He was somber, yes, but sooner that than the feverish expectation of what could not be.
He said, ‘Do you really think they resent your being a Settler at this stage of the game?’
‘Of course they do. They never forget. They're as narrow-minded as I am, and I never forget they're Earthpeople.’
‘You obviously forget I'm an Earthman.’
‘That's because you're Crile, and fall into no category other than Crile. And I'm Tessa. And that ends it.’
Fisher said thoughtfully, ‘Does it ever bother you, Tessa, that you have worked out superluminal flight for Earth, rather than for your own Settlement, Adelia?’
‘But I haven't done it for Earth, and I wouldn't have done it for Adelia in other circumstances. In both cases, I'm doing it for myself. I had a problem to solve, and I completed the job successfully. Now I'm going down in history as the inventor of superluminal flight and that's what I've done for myself. And it may sound pretentious, but I'm doing it for humanity, too. It doesn't matter on which world the discovery is made, you know. Some person or persons on Rotor invented hyper-assistance, but we have it now and so do all the Settlements. In the end, the Settlements will all have superluminal flight, too. Wherever an advance takes place, ultimately all humanity is helped.’
‘Earth needs it more than the Settlements do, though.’
‘You mean because of the approach of the Neighbor Star, which the Settlements can easily evade by leaving, if necessary, but which Earth can't. Well, I'll leave that as a problem for Earth's leaders. I've supplied the tool and they can work out methods for using it to their best advantage.’
Crile said, ‘I understand we're taking off tomorrow.’
‘Yes, finally. They'll be taking holographic recordings and give us the full treatment. There's no way of telling, though, when they'll be able to release them to the general public and the Settlements.’
‘It can't be till after our return,’ said Fisher. ‘There'd be no sense in putting them on display if they can't be certain we'll ever come back. It's going to be an agonizing wait for them, too, since they'll have no contact with us at all. When the astronauts first landed on the Moon, they were in touch with the Earth all the way.’
‘True,’ said Wendel, ‘but when Columbus sailed off into the Atlantic, the Spanish monarchs never heard from him again till he returned seven months later.’
Fisher said, ‘Earth, now, has far more at stake than Spain had seven and a half centuries ago. It is really a great pity we can't have superluminal communication, since we have superluminal flight.’
‘I think so, too. As does Koropatsky, who has been hammering at me to work out telecommunication. But, as I told him, I am not a marvelous supernatural force who can crank out everything anyone needs. It is one thing to push mass through hyperspace and quite another to push some sort of radiation through hyperspace. They follow different rules even in ordinary space so that Maxwell didn't work out his electromagnetic equations until two centuries after Newton worked out his gravitational equation. Well, mass and radiation follow different rules in hyperspace, too, and the rules for radiation still defeat us. Someday we'll work out superluminal communication, but we haven't yet.’
‘It's too bad,’ said Fisher thoughtfully. ‘It's possible that without superluminal communication, superluminal flight won't be practical.’
‘Why not?’
‘The lack of superluminal communication cuts the umbilical cord. Could Settlements live far from Earth - far from the rest of humanity - and survive?’
Wendel frowned. ‘What's this new line of philosophy you've begun to track down?’
‘Just a thought. Being a Settler, Tessa, and being accustomed to it, it may not occur to you that living on a Settlement is not truly natural to human beings.’
‘Really? It never seemed unnatural to me.’
‘That's because you weren't really living on one. You were living in a whole system of Settlements among which one was a large planet with billions of people on it. Might not the Rotorians, once they reached the Neighbor Star, find that living on an isolated Settlement was unsatisfactory? In that case, they would surely return to Earth, but they haven't. Might that not be because they have found a planet to live on?’