Into the Sea of Stars (14 page)

From less than a kilometer away they slowly circled
the two units. The two colonies were docked to each other
by several long tubes.
Stasz
hailed the vessels on every possible frequency but received no response. However, both ships gave clear indications that their reactors were functioning at full power, and from the exterior mirrors Ian could see reflected images of the inside indicating lights and movement.

It was the half-dozen
suitless
bodies floating between
the two ships that finally sobered
lan's
companions.
Suddenly a number of vessels emerged from the Serbo-Croatian ship, and then from the Albanian. Both squad
rons started in their direction and Ian's arguments finally took effect.

"I think we better get out of here,"
Stasz
muttered as
he punched up the
sublight
drive and started to pull away from the colonies.

However, after several minutes it soon became clear
that their pursuers were gaining on them.

"You see, I told you so," Ian said dejectedly. "You
guys wanted to check them out when I told you not to,
and now they're going to force us to attend whatever it
is they do to each other over there."

"Maybe they're not hostile," Ellen said hopefully.

"Not hostile? Did you see those bodies that had been
deep-spaced? That didn't look too civilized to me."

"They're closing in at point twenty-three kilometers per minute,"
Stasz
interrupted. "I'm pushing her to the
max now, but it will take me another half hour to plot out
our jump and go through purging and adjustment."

"Can't you speed it up?"

"You want to up our chance of disintegration from 1.4
to 20.2 percent?"

"Might not make a difference," Ian replied.

"Say, take a look at that!" Shelley cried, pointing at the aft screen.

A flash had emerged from the lead Albanian pursuit vessel.

"Looks like a primitive rocket,"
Stasz
yelled. "If it's aimed at us, we're dead meat."

The rocket accelerated and within seconds its course was obvious, as it closed on the lead ship in the Serbo-
Croatian pursuit squadron. In a noiseless flash of light the Serbo-Croatian craft disintegrated. The other vessels sud
denly turned in their pursuit paths, accelerating away at right angles from their original trajectories. Rotating on
their axes, they started to fire back.

"Good old rivalry saves our butts," Richard murmured.
"Hate each other too much to let the other one get the
prize."

More vessels soon emerged from the two colony ships
and a major battle was underway. In the confusion the
Discovery
was soon forgotten, as each side prevented the
other from closing in.

"Say,
Stasz
," Richard asked imploringly, "would you
punch us out of here
asap
?"

Stasz
chuckled and recited again the odds of disinte
gration with the jump. But the routine somehow did not
have the same effect anymore.

"Albania," Ian repeated, shaking his head, bumming a
flask from Richard. He headed aft to hide out when the shift hit.

Ian sat alone in the command bay as the others slept,
and for a brief moment he was able to enjoy the total
solitude that being the only one awake could bring. After
nearly five months of voyaging together, each had learned
the patterns of behavior that would generate the least
amount of friction. Ian found that reversing his circadian
cycle gave him the chance to quietly hide in his work
when most of the others were asleep. As the
Discovery
soared across the vastness of empty space, Ian would
spend hours in
Stasz's
couch contemplating the Doppler-
distorted images or prowling through the vast accumu
lation of data stored in the ship's memory. And Ian finally
realized that he was actually happy. In spite of the fears that still haunted him, he was enjoying himself, perhaps
for the first time in his life.

First of all the vast and varied responsibilities of
Earth .
were
gone. All concern about rent, budgets, department
meetings, and reviews by the Chancellor had vanished.
Ian actually felt healthier, and he had to confess that El
len's food, even when spiced with her occasional vitriolic
tirades, was far better than his bachelor monstrosities.
There was something far deeper, as well. For the first
time in his life he felt as if he were doing something im
portant, not just dreaming about the lives of others long
dead. The sense of accomplishment was almost worth the
bouts of terror that still assailed him. He found that he
was actually learning to manage the nagging self-doubts
when he had to make a decision that could be crucial to
his survival, let alone the survival of others.

One self-generated disturbance, however, did give him
pause for concern. He was experiencing an increasing number of fantasies about Shelley. She had somehow changed. When they had departed, she was still the kid who was playing at being the grownup housekeeper and
guardian for a beloved uncle or older neighbor. Ever since
the burning he had received from the Governor's daugh
ter, Ian had sworn off females in general and young ones in particular. As a college professor he mainly associated
with kids twenty years his junior, and he had learned long
ago that they were a quick and easy way to a tribunal
hearing on a morals charge.

But five months of close proximity was getting a little
too much to deal with. He knew that
Stasz
had absolutely no interest in Ellen's designs but was turning his attention
toward Shelley, as well. But the few grab passes offered by the pilot had all resulted in cracked knuckles. So that
possibility was out.

At times he thought Shelley was making a direct pass
at him, and then again there were times when she seemed
just a slightly gawky grad assistant who was trying to be
helpful. But more and more of late, he found himself contemplating the tight slacks that Shelley had taken to
wearing, and the press of her body against his when they were hovered over the computer display...

"Mind if I join you?"

Ian awoke from his reverie to find Ellen standing in
the doorway.
"
Ahh
, sure.
Thought you'd be asleep."

"Felt like taking a midnight stroll." She chuckled softly.
Coming forward, she slipped into the Co seat next to Ian.

"You look rather pensive."

"Oh, just watching the show
pass
by."

"It's rather frightening at times," Ellen said softly.

"How so?"

"Come on, Ian. In my book, you were the original
coward. I thought you would still be quaking at the pros
pects of this voyage."

He didn't take offense at her statement. And rather
than ducking it, he had a strange compulsion to talk it
out. "First of all, I did feel terror, cold stark terror, when I finally started to realize what this voyage was. I can
almost understand how medieval man was stunned and
terrified by Copernicus. Before him the world was small,
safe, the center of God's will. After Copernicus eternity
stretched out before us and such a thing was beyond our
ability to grasp, thus the blind terror of it all.

"When I realized just how far we would travel, just
how far away from Earth we were going, how far we were
traveling from that damn little campus, I was struck with
fear. The thought of this frail, delicate body hurtling at
jump speed for trillions of miles was beyond my ability
to deal with on a rational basis. I tried to soothe myself with the thought of the romance of it, but that's a bunch
of shit. There isn't any
romance,
there never is any ro
mance when you're out doing it. Maybe years later we'll talk about how romantic it all was. The romance of ad
venture exists only in the memory. Any good historian
could tell you that."

"Sounding philosophical tonight."

"Comes with soaring in space for too long.
It gives you
the chance, the time to separate yourself from the mun
dane. I think I can understand the attraction the explorers of long ago felt for the sea. Out there the mundane cares
of the rest of the world were lost in a never-ending change
which was the sea, the wind at your back..."

"But it's so cold," Ellen whispered. "I look out at this
immensity and I feel so small, so alone."

"Precisely.
And that is where you lose yourself. I've
imagined at times that this voyage could soar on forever,
across the endless sea."

"And I see it merely as a mission and then a trip home.
Don't you want to go home, Ian?"

"What for?
To go back to faculty meetings and the monthly confrontations with Dr. Ellen Redding?"

"All right, Ian, you made your point. You know, I've
tried at times to analyze why we can't stand each other. For that matter, why I can't stand most people,"

He was tempted to let fly with a sarcasm, but let it
pass. Ellen was making an effort. Rare, to be sure, but it was an effort.

He took a deep breath and made the plunge. "When I
hear the name Ellen Redding I picture a florid, freckled,
five-foot-three, slightly overweight, middle-aging adoles
cent, who still behaves at times like she is the
ingenue
of
the high school set."

He quickly held up his hand to ward off the explosion,
but it didn't come. She just sat silently, and he wasn't
sure if the blush on her face was a signal for a fireball or
for tears.

"And I think she resents it all," Ian continued. "She
wishes to be something else. The classic beauty, the truly
talented artist, the person who lives in the same circle as the Chancellor or with the literati of New
Bostem
, and
instead is stuck in a backwater town. So you lash out,
Ellen. You lash out at this overweight, balding, none-too-
competent history professor.
A male of the species who can represent all the males who never gave you an even
break just because of your sex and lack of sexuality.
And I guess I'm saying this 'cause I'm a long way from home.
I'm still a coward underneath it all, and I want to bury
the hatchet."

"Ian, you never did learn tact. You never did learn how
to tell the truth without cutting flesh."

She turned away for a moment. "I think I'd almost
miss cutting you up."

"There's always Richard."

"That slob?"

"Sure he's a slob—a frustrated slob who never had the right connections in a system that required it.
A slob
who was a little too sensitive when it came to practicing
medicine, and hid it with a couple of drinks too many.
And anyhow, Ellen, you make him happy."

"I make him happy! I'm not sure I heard that correctly."

"Sure, Ellen, think of it. Where would you and Richard
be if you didn't have each other to insult? I half believe
we enjoy our antagonisms as much as we do our loves.
It gives us the energy to face what otherwise would be a
very boring existence. Think of it this way, Ellen, you
make Richard happy in a deep personal way every time
you insult him."

She turned and looked at Ian. She wasn't sure if his
speech wasn't some sort of elaborate joke planned by
Richard and Ian, or if she was experiencing a moment of
truth between the two of them.

Then the alarm kicked on and within seconds
Stasz
wandered sleepy-eyed, into the cabin to check the console
printouts for navigation prompts.

As Ellen walked out of the cabin, Ian would have sworn
that she smiled at him.

Colonial Unit 122

First Completion Date:
 
2063

Primary Function:
International Feminist Foundation.
Organization founded by radical feminists in 1994 to
"create a lifestyle totally removed from a male-
dominated infrastructure."

Evacuation Date:
According to Copernicus Base Record,
July 19, 2083.
Believed to be one of the first units to
depart near-Earth space.

Overall Design:
Single
Torus
900 meters in diameter with
central shaft 500 meters in length.

Propulsion:
Standard Modification Design, strap-on
matter/antimatter packs mounted to
nonrotational
central shaft.

Course:
 
Delta Sag.

Political/Social Orientation:
Anglo-American, Radical
Feminist.
Taught doctrine of removal of the male spe
cies.
Thousands of sperm samples were taken and all Y chromosome sperm destroyed. The result was bil
lions of frozen X sperm, creating a potential "pool"
capable of providing enough fertilization capabilities
to last for several hundred generations.

"Hard Dock!"
Stasz
announced, turning to look back at the rest of the crew.

"Any reading yet on which unit this is?" Richard asked.

"There're no external markings," Shelley replied. "The beacon is off, and all I have to go on is the design. There
are thirteen single-
torus
models listed in our records."

"Shall we go?" Ian said softly, as he eased out of his seat and drifted aft to the docking port. "Who's game for this one?"

"What the hell?" Richard responded as he slipped out and followed Ellen.

As they suited up with businesslike calm.
Ian could
remember the fear and anticipation of his first boarding,
but that seemed like ages ago, as if he possessed the memories of someone else.

"We're throwing the hatch," Ian said as the manual
airlock to the colonial unit slowly opened. Instinctively
he braced himself as the
hatchcover
parted. A quick flash
of memory caused his pulse to jump. But nothing was there except for the usual corridor leading to the second
airlock.

They closed the doorway behind them, and in the soft
glow of their headlamps Ian pulled the manual release for
the inner airlock door.

"Holy shit!"
Richard murmured. The words flowed out
of him in reverent awe, as if he had suddenly looked into
a celestial radiance.

The words were on
lan's
lips, as well. A single woman stood before them, as if Eve had appeared incarnate from the Garden, her body clothed as was Eve's before the fall from grace.

"Damn me," Richard said, "what the hell do we have
these things on for? She looks safe enough without 'em." And before Ian could stop him, Richard unsnapped his helmet and pulled it off. He moved closer to the woman
and smiled, hoping the slight odor of gin would not prove
too offensive.

Her deep-blue eyes had a cold clearness that seemed
to mask a longing
desire,
her curly blond hair tumbled
down past her shoulders to just barely cover the full swell
of her breasts. She stood before him naked and inviting.

"
Ahh
, my child, do you understand what I'm saying?"

She nodded and smiled.

"My name is Dr. Croce.
Ahh
, well now, you see, being
of the medical profession my training requires that I must
inquire into your obvious state of excellent health. Do you understand me?"

She nodded again.

"Good, my
ahh
... dear." He moved forward and
touched her lightly on the shoulder. "Would you mind if
I perhaps examined you a little more closely
?...
"

"Richard, you pig!" Ellen pushed forward to stand be
tween the girl and the medico.

"
Ahh
, yes, I've heard of that word, 'pig'." The voice
was cold and chilling. Ian turned and found himself look
ing into a set of cold dark eyes. He stepped back as half
a dozen women floated out from a side corridor. They
were dressed like their comrade, but the business ends
of six antique pistols were enough to convince him that
he shouldn't ask questions about their choices in fashion.

"You see, sisters," the cold-voiced woman said, "it's
as we've learned. His first thought was that of exploita
tion."

"I can explain..." To those unfamiliar with him, Rich
ard's voice sounded solemn and professional, but Ian could
detect the fear in it.

"Ah, now the pig will explain. That's always the case."

"You were right, Diana," the blond woman replied,
"
the
trap was almost too simple."

"Say, Ian, what the hell is going on over there?"

"Secure the airlock against entry,
Stasz
!" Ian shouted,
but before he could say another word the cold-eyed woman
held a small box against his neck. A numbing shock
knocked him over. He was still conscious, but incapable
of moving.

"Thank you, sister, I've been waiting for this liberation
ever since I was assigned to these men. Please let me knock the other one down."

Ian recognized the last speaker as Ellen! Well, of all
the gratitude, he thought sadly as two women hauled him
away. At least, he thought philosophically, I'm still conscious and capable of enjoying the view.

"How long do you think it's been?" Ian asked.

"Don't know—a day, maybe a day and a half," Richard
replied wearily. "Their time measurement is radically different from ours, so it's hard to tell."

"I wish they'd give my clothes back." Ian felt ridiculous sitting naked in a bare cubicle alongside the equally
overweight and equally naked doctor.

Richard started to chuckle.

"Damn it, I don't see anything funny! What the hell
are you laughing at?"

"I never thought the two of us would be paraded before
ten thousand naked women and extolled as examples of
manhood. Think of it, Ian, ten thousand women seeing a
man for the first time, and it had to be us. Imagine what
fantasies they'll have about us afterward."

"Fantasies my bare ass," Ian grumbled as a key clicked
in the door. It was time for another examination session.

"Sisters, our two specimens here are evidence of just
how degenerate the male of the species truly is. Thank
our
grandsisters
for liberating us from that." Diana pointed
with contempt at Ian and Richard. Murmurs of agreement
arose from the several hundred women gathered in the
lecture hall to attend what Diana said would be an "in
teractive examination of the subspecies male."

As Diana gazed at him in contempt, Richard tried a
weak smile. Ian scanned the audience and found to his
amazement that after several days of seeing naked female
flesh in every form and shape, the initial excitement was
wearing thin. Oh, to be sure, an occasional woman caught
his eye, but given his current situation, tied and
spreadeagled
on an examination table, he felt it best not to let
his gaze linger on any particular attraction.

But he did notice Ellen and Shelley sitting in the front
row and made eye contact with both of them. Taking a closer look at Ellen, he almost started to laugh as she
positioned her body in a desperate attempt to cover all
areas of interest. But Shelley was another story. She sat back in what could only be considered an attempt at dis
play and regarded him with a cool look of playful invitation. In desperation he quickly looked away. Good lord,
that woman was torturing him!

"Sisters," Diana said, interrupting his thoughts, "we've
had our opportunity to examine these creatures both
physically and mentally. Now, in yet another demonstration of our liberated society, I think it is only correct that we allow them to show their own masculine weaknesses
by giving them the opportunity to question us in turn.

"Go
ahead,
ask us anything," Diana said with scorn,
"anything at all,"

Ian and Richard were silent.

"Are you afraid, too?"

"Understand I am a doctor," Richard said, attempting
to sound authoritative, "
so
this is only a question out of
my professional curiosity."

"Go on, Doctor," Diana hissed. "We already saw a
display of your professional interest in Sister Carrie." She
nodded toward the willowy blonde from their first en
counter.

"All right then. As I understand it, you are a feminist
group that holds all men in contempt."

"Correct, and in fact the only logical thing any normal
woman would do."

"Second, in the thousand years since you've left Earth
you've used only X-chromosome sperm to create more
women."

"As is only proper, you see, Doctor. With our huge
bank of edited sperm we've eliminated the need for men
and for that—how shall I say?—function you once pro
vided."

"I see." Richard was trying to look professional, and Ian almost found himself laughing at the naked doctor trying to stare down his disdainful audience.

"Then what do you do for, ah, recreation?"

"Do you mean sexual gratification, Doctor?"

"Yes. I mean, after all, ladies, without any men
around..." And his voice trailed off.

Angry mutterings could be heard in the crowd.

"Why doctor, I'll satisfy your disgusting prurient in
terest, which we realize all men naturally harbor. Doctor, we simply find our necessary gratification in each other."

"Good lord, I've died and gone to heaven," Richard muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, nothing at all.

"Now, I'm a healthy man, not past my prime," Richard
said in reply. "Don't you think some of you ladies—say
you, Carrie, or even you, Diana—aren't you curious just
to see what it might be like with a man?"

The audience chamber exploded in outraged shouts of disgust. A torrent of abuse showered down on the two,
so that for some minutes Ian feared that they were about
to be lynched by a thoroughly incensed mob.

"Keep your damn mouth shut," Ian hissed, "or so
help
me..."

"So help you, what?"

"I don't know, but so help me something."

Suddenly Ellen was up and pointing at Richard. "That's
what I've had to put up with," she shouted. "It's still that
way back on Earth! Thank you, oh, thank you for saving
me." She started to cry, and Carrie hurried to embrace
her.

"Traitor!"
Richard shouted. "You didn't act exploited
when you were trying to get into
Stasz's
pants."

Outraged howls roared over the crowd as, sobbing hys
terically, Ellen was escorted from the room by Carrie.

"Just shut up, Richard," Ian begged, "otherwise I'll
strangle you the first chance I get."

"See, sisters, see the natural aggressiveness coming
out, even between two so-called friends."

The two prisoners fell silent, and eventually the out
raged women calmed down.

"You,
Lacklin
," Diana asked, "
do
you have any ques
tions?"

In spite of his sense of absurdity, Ian couldn't help but
approach the situation as an historian. He felt that he
might even have been participating in a historical first—
the first interview by a historian in deep space while naked
in front of three hundred naked women.

"Just a minor question first.
Why no clothes?"

"Why not?"
Diana replied. "Clothing was exploitive and designed by men to enslave us. Here we are sisters,
and free of such things. And besides, the climate is com
pletely controlled."

"Do you understand your historical roots?"

"Oh, quite well.
Our memory systems have survived
intact, and our leaders, who first created our society a
thousand years ago, live yet in those memories. Through their inspired guidance we re-learn daily of our
ansisters
' exploitation by your gender. Each generation that is born
here learns it as well from our teaching library."

That would explain their almost perfectly preserved twenty-first-century pre-Holocaust speech, Ian suddenly
realized. The vocabulary and pronunciation would be
learned from an unchanging source, thereby guiding the
language and arresting it at a particular point. A philologist
would be fascinated with their society—it's a living ex
ample of a language long altered on Earth.