"Do you think they hit him?" Shelley cried.
"If they had, we would have felt the vibration run through the ship. I think they're just jamming him. Come on, Richard, move it!"
They were rapidly moving into the low-gravity region and finally, in exasperation, Ian braced himself on the ladder and leaned onto Richard's backside, giving him a tremendous shove.
Richard arched up and away like a champagne cork popping out of a bottle. With a crash he slammed into the bulkhead on the other side of the stairwell and ricocheted out into the main zero-gravity corridor. Ian and Shelley were right behind him.
They pushed off for the opposite end, where their own docking port was located. Ellen was already there and waving them on.
Just another twenty meters to go and suddenly Ian felt a slight shifting in the air, as if a distant doorway had been opened. Grabbing a handrail, he looked back the way they had come. Another docking port was open. A shadowy figure filled the bay, and Ian felt a tremor of fear. They had lost the race.
Trying to smile, he raised his hand and tossed the stun pistol away. The figure he was facing had some far heavier artillery.
" Ahh, greetings, friend," he said in a high, squeaky voice. " Ahh… We've come in peace for all mankind. How's that?"
The blast knocked him over backward, slamming him into darkness.
Chapter 12
Exile Base 11; Alpha/Omega
First Completion Date: 2078
Primary Function: Adopting an old Russian concept, the United States started exiling political dissidents to space in 2068. On the eve of the Holocaust War several hundred thousand "political unreliables, conscientious objectors, and disarmament activists," led by Dr. Franklin Smith, were exiled to space.
Evacuation Date: Believed to be August 7, 2087, the re corded date of the primary exchange between the Third World powers versus the United States and Soviet Re publics.
Overall Design: O'Neill Cylinder. Four kilometers by 800 meters. All exile bases were populated far more densely than the maximum potential carrying capabilities. Thus the units were dependent on Earth for life support. It is believed by Beaulieu that no exile unit could have survived longer than six months after departure from near-Earth, due to depletion of resources.
Propulsion: Ion Drive with nuclear pulse backup.
Course: SETI Anomaly One.
Political/Social Orientation: Penal system, largely self- governing, but managed by USNSC (United States Near Space Council). Departure in fact was hoped for and encouraged by Earthside government as a means of eliminating political dissent without having actually to kill the opposition.
"I'd prefer if you moved that thing from the back of my head. You can see I've brought you where you wanted."
Stasz's words echoed through lan's consciousness, each syllable like a hammer on an anvil. He wasn't sure yet if he wanted to open his eyes, since he was still debating if he was dead or alive.
"Croce, you fat slob, we should have left you behind," Ellen said in a shrill voice. "We could have jumped out in time, but, oh no, Ian had to be the hero, so now we're all stuck."
If he was dead, then he must be in Hell. He opened his eyes and looked around.
"Well, our fearless historian is wide awake at last," Richard said, offering him a tumbler. He chortled softly then beckoned for Ian to look forward. Ian gladly accepted.
The couch normally occupied by Shelley was now held by a stranger. From the back, Ian saw broad shoulders and an erect carriage. His hair was tied back in a simple queue that hung over the back of the couch-the color of it nearly matching his dark, full features. In his left hand was a pistol, which he held to the back of Stasz's head.
"Two more of his buddies are in the back checking," Richard cautioned, "so I wouldn't suggest trying any thing."
"For God sake, Ian, don't try anything," Shelley whis pered. "They hit you with a stunner. But this guy's got an old-fashioned powder-driven pistol. Don't get him mad, for God's sake!"
"Where's Elijah?"
"I sedated him," Richard replied. "After they hit you, Ellen, Shelley, and I kind of thought it best to go along peaceful like. We let them into our ship and Elijah nearly went wild. I was afraid they'd kill him, so I just came up and jabbed him one from behind. He'll be out for another couple of hours."
"Where are they taking us?"
The guard turned back and looked at Ian with an almost pleasant smile. "Just for a little talk. The priests of the Father will want to hear your story."
To Ian the language sounded like modified Old English. "The Father?" he asked cautiously.
The guard smiled, but this time with a sinister light in his eyes. "When you say 'the Father,' be sure to say it with the proper respect."
"Oh yes, of course, but of course."
"Coming up on jump-down," Stasz announced evenly. "Remember, friend, you might get sick, but don't blame me."
"Ten seconds, five…"
"Will you look at that! " Stasz pointed ahead and then to the left and the right. For the moment he had forgotten that his life was held by a stranger in the couch next to him.
To his surprise Ian found that his stomach had managed to survive jump-down intact. Perhaps it had something to do with the short duration of the jump, but that question was pushed from his mind as he looked out the forward viewing ports. It took him several seconds to grasp the perspective and scale of what he was seeing.
"It must be a hundred kilometers long," Ian whispered.
"Yes, kilometers," their guard said. "The one forward is large, but you wish to go to that one there." And he pointed to what looked like an old, familiar design. An O'Neill cylinder, probably the original, but it was simply dwarfed by the hundreds of others that filled the heavens in every direction.
They were in high orbit above a deeply pitted surface, and as Ian examined it, he realized that a significant por tion of the planet was scarred and torn, as if a giant had gnawed on it.
"Each one of those units could provide for well over a million people," Shelley said softly.
Good heavens, Ian thought, the population must number in the billions.
Following the guard's directions, Stasz guided Discovery through ever-increasing traffic. Finally, taking the control headset, the guard called for docking clearance. Within minutes the Discovery was lined up for final approach.
For the moment Ian had forgotten his fears as he contemplated the myriad designs of the shipping around him. He felt as if he had arrived at an odd Sargasso Sea, where ships of every conceivable design had collected. As the Discovery turned in on final, the ship slowly rotated on its X-axis so that a full sweep of local space was given to the travelers, and all were overawed by the sheer sizes and numbers.
"Our biggest is nearly a hundred and fifty kilometers in length," the guard said, his pride in such an accomplishment obvious. But it was the only information he would volunteer to them.
"We've got a hard dock," Stasz said as the faint vi bration of contact ran through the vessel.
"Very good. I'm glad I was not forced to kill you." The guard smiled and bolstered his pistol.
"So am I," Stasz replied weakly.
"You see," the guard said mockingly, "I wouldn't know how to pilot this ship." Laughing uproariously, he made his way aft, beckoning for them to follow.
"Maybe they all have a sense of humor," Shelley said hopefully.
"Ask Elijah about that," Ian replied.
The guard stopped by the airlock door and, turning, faced his prisoners. "Go get the crazy one and bring him with you."
Taking a still-wobbly Elijah in tow, they went through the first airlock and waited for the door to the other ship to open.
"Bear yourselves with dignity," the guard said evenly, "for you walk upon sacred ground."