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and orbit control.
"Thunder three, outbound target screened from orbit control. Projected course
beyond range of either orbit control or patrollers on station."
By now the rear screen showed an El Lido whose image was rapidly becoming a
disc that would fill less than the entire rear screen.
Monitoring the scout's power status, Gerswin shook his head. Eighty percent,
down twenty percent just for liftoff. No wonder he had gotten clear so
quickly. But power was expensive, even on Aswan, if one considered the
acquisition costs, and speed was paid in power terms.
Then, everything about El Lido had been expensive, he reflected as he returned
his attention to the representational screen, which now displayed the entire
system, including El Lido and its orbit control.
Two winking red dots along the general course line to system exit corridor one
indicated the two on-station system patrollers.
Gerswin had already sent the Caroljoy hurtling along a different course the
one to the less favored exit point. The second corridor, because the system's
irregular gas corona extended farther on one side of the system, required more
travel time in-system before a ship could reach space clear enough for a
jumpshift.
He calculated, hands hovering above the console. Roughly, at his present
screamingly uneconomical acceleration, he could have reached the jump point
along corridor one in two hours.
Worrying at his lip with his teeth, he checked the screens again.
"Time to jump?"
"Three hours, plus or minus point five."
The farscreens were clear, except for the distant patrollers, not
surprisingly, since jumpship travel anywhere was scarce, and to El Lido,
isolated as it was, even scarcer.
The red lights of the patrollers, flashing against the darkness of the
representational screen, seemed almost accusing.
"Accusing about what?"
"Inquiry imprecise. Please clarify," requested the AI.
"Disregard," snapped the once-upon-a-time commodore.
What had gone wrong? Or had anything?
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The biologics would continue to be produced, and Hairline would doubtless
exert some effort to improve social conditions. And thirty thousand casualties
represented . . . what? An initial payment?
"Are you still asking too much of people?" he muttered, not letting his eyes
leave the screens.
"Question represents a value judgment. Without further data, no answer is
possible." The
AI's cool feminine tone was like ice down his spine.
Whose values? Whose judgments? He had killed or injured thirty thousand
people, some theoretically innocent, because he felt it necessary; because he
felt his own creation had been perverted to serve an already too-repressive
government. Did he have that right?
"You took that right the day you decided to restore Old Earth."
Did that make him right?
He shook his head. Right was a value judgment, as the Al had said so coldly.
Had he been too hard on Rodire? Had he expected too much of the young idealist
when he and his children had grown older? Did the children make that much
difference?
Corson, what would you have been like, had we shared a life? Would you have
turned me, too? Turned me from fire and ice?
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He pushed that thought away from the trails down which it had led him too many
times before.
"Time to jump?"
"Three hours, plus or minus point two."
Why did people let themselves be ruled so easily? Why did they let others
enslave them?
Why didn't they fight?
"Why didn't they fight?"
"Question imprecise. Please reformulate."
The businessman who was an idealist with a vision and who had been a commodore
did not rephrase his question. Instead he stood up and turned away, pacing
from the cramped control room into the equally small, but less cluttered, crew
room.
Finding the techniques to reclaim his home had proved difficult enough, and
the refining and producing was even more difficult. Plus, refinement and
production required resources and funding, and while obtaining both had been
the technically easiest part, it had been by far the most time-consuming, and
had created the most problems. But without the resources to bankroll the
development and the field testing and the production, all the foundation's
research products would be worthless.
Then, still unknown, was the question of the Empire. While it would certainly
continue to passively oppose any wide-scale adoption of the techniques the
foundation was developing, how soon would the forces marshaling against
Gerswin be able to turn the Empire against him.
He had Lyr to thank, time and time again, for turning the inquiries and
blunting the attacks, but Lyr and her allies could not hold back the tide
forever.
He shook his head. One thing in his favor was that his opponents did not know
where they stood. Nor would they for years to come, though Gerswin could sense
it now. And his own stupidity in using tacheads! Thirty thousand innocents
because he hated tyranny and personal greed. Thirty thousand innocents because
he had held others to his standards. He shook his head. Better to write off an
enterprise, or to wait until no one suspected he could return. Brute force
wasn't the answer. Yet, knowing better, he had turned to it.
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He shook his head once more.
"You'd better hope it's considered an isolated case. You'd better hope."
He walked back toward the controls, thinking about Rodire, and about the man's
family.
Corson, where are you? Beyond? Never? Martin . . . ?
But Martin he had not known, even briefly, only known about when there was
nothing he could have done.
He reseated himself at the control couch, tilted now into a standard seat, and
tried to refocus his thoughts on his next operations.
He couldn't afford another mistake like El Lido. Not for himself, or Lyr, or
Martin, or the people involved.
Not ever.
LXXII
THE GOLD STARBURST in the center of the console flared.
The man known as Eye stared at the golden light, which remained burning
brightly. Behind his shadow mask his mouth nearly dropped open.
The Emperor's call but why?
He frowned, wondering whether he should answer the almost mythical summons,
still sitting before the console.
Three red lights blipped into place on the screen readouts, and his eyes
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widened.
He shook his head. Apparently the old procedures still held. All his defense
screens were down.
What was it that Thurson had said years ago? That the myths always triumphed
in the end, whether a man believed in them or not?
With a sigh, he stood, not that he had much choice as a squad of Corpus Corps
assassins bracketed his private portal.
"The Emperor awaits, you, ser."
While all gave him a wide berth, they seemed almost excited as they escorted
him along the secret tunnels, tunnels he thought only known to the Eye and the
two Eye Regents.
"How did you know this was the way?" he asked the Corps squad leader.
"The Emperor gave us the map, ser, after he dropped your screens, ser."
Eye said nothing further until the tunnel narrowed, a narrowing that reflected
nearness to the palace.
Opposite the portal that exited in his own guest quarters, assigned to him in [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]