Tau Zero

There was no space to spare in space. Every cubic centimeter inside the hull must work. Yet persons intelligent and sensitive enough to adventure out here would have gone crazy in a “functional” environment. Thus far the bulkheads were bare metal and plastic. But the artistically talented had plans. Reymont noticed Emma Glassgold, molecular biologist, in a corridor, sketching out a mural that would show forest around a sunlit lake. And from the start, the residential and recreational decks were covered with a material green and springy as grass. The air gusting from the ventilators was more than purified by the plants of the hydroponic section and the colloids of the Darrell balancer. It went through changes of temperature, ionization, odor. At present it smelted like fresh clover — with an appetizing whiff added if you passed the galley, since gourmet food compensates for many deprivations.

Similarly, commons was a warren occupying a whole deck. The gymnasium, which doubled as theater and assembly room, was its largest unit. But even the mess was of a size to let diners stretch their legs and relax. Nearby were hobby shops, a clubroom for sedentary games, a swimming pool, tiny gardens and bowers. Some of the ship’s designers had argued against putting the dream boxes on this level. Should folk come here for fun be reminded by the door of that cabin that they must have ghostly substitutes for the realities they had left behind them? But the process was, after all, a sort of recreation too; having it in sick bay might be unpleasant, and that was the sole alternative.

There was no immediate need for that apparatus. The journey was still young. A slightly hysterical gaiety filled the atmosphere. Men roughhoused, women chattered, laughter was inordinate at mealtimes, and the frequent dances were occasions of heavy flirtation. Passing the gym, which stood open, Reymont saw a handball match in progress. At low gee, when you could virtually walk up a wall, the action got spectacular.

He continued to the pool. In an alcove off the principal corridor, it could hold several without crowding; but at this hour, 2100, no one was using it. Jane Sadler stood at the edge, frowning thoughtfully. She was a Canadian, a biotechnician in the organocycle department. Physically she was a big brunette, her features ordinary but the rest of her shown to high advantage by shorts and tee shirt.

“Troubles?” Reymont asked.

“Oh, hullo. Constable,” she responded in English. “Nothing wrong, except I can’t figure out how best to decorate in here. I’m supposed to make recommendations to my committee.”

“Didn’t they plan on a Roman bath effect?”

“Uh-huh. That covers a lot of ground, though. Nymphs and satyrs, or poplar groves, or temple buildings, or what?” She laughed. “Hell with it. I’ll suggest N S. ff the job gets botched, it can always be done over, till we run out of paint. Give us something further to do.”

“Who can keep going five years — and five more, if we have to return — on hobbies?” Reymont said slowly.

Sadler laughed again. “Nobody. Don’t fret. Everyone aboard has a full program of work lined up, whether it be theoretical research or writing the Great Space Age Novel or caching Greek in exchange for tenser calculus.”

“Of course. I’ve seen the proposals. Are they adequate?”

“Constable, do relax! The other expeditions made it, more or less sanely. Why not us? Take your swim.” She gri

Reymont imitated a smile, removed his clothes, and hung them on a rack. She whistled. “Hey,” she said, “I hadn’t seen you before in less’n a coverall. That’s some collection of biceps and triceps and things you pack around. Calisthenics?”

“In my job, I’d better keep fit,” he replied uncomfortably.

“Some offwatch when you’ve nothing else to do,” she suggested, “come around to my cabin and exercise me.”

“I’d enjoy that,” he said, looking her up and down, “but at present Ingrid and I—”

“Yeah, sure. I was kidding, sort of, anyway. Seems like I’ll be making a steady liaison soon myself.”

“Really? Who, if I may ask?”

“Elof Nilsson.” She lifted a hand. “No, don’t say it. He’s not exactly Adonis. His ma

Reymont stood quiet for a moment. “And you’re pretty fine, Jane,” he said. “Ingrid’s meeting me here. Why don’t you join us?”

She cocked her head. “By golly, you do keep a human being hidden under that policeman. Don’t worry, I won’t let out your secret. And I won’t stay, either. Privacy’s hard to come by. You two use this while you’ve got it.”

She waved and left. Reymont peered after her and back down into the water. He was standing thus when Lindgren arrived.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “Beamcast from Luna. Another idiotic inquiry about how things are going for us. I’ll be positively glad when we get out into the Big Deep.” She kissed him. He hardly responded. She stepped back, trouble clouding her face. “What’s the matter, darling?”

“Do you think I’m too stiff?” he blurted.

She had no instant reply. The fluorolight gleamed on her tawny hair, a ventilator’s breeze ruffled it a little, the noise of the ball game drifted through the entrance arch. Finally: “What makes you wonder?”

“A remark. Well meant, but a slight shock just the same.”

Lindgren frowned. “I’ve told you before, you’ve been heavier-handed than I quite liked, the few times you’ve had to make somebody toe the line. No one aboard is a fool, a malingerer, or a saboteur.”

“Should I not have told Norbert Williams to shut up the other day, when he started denouncing Sweden at mess? Things like that can have a rather nasty end result.” Reymont laid a clenched fist in the other palm. “I know,” he said. “Military-type discipline isn’t needed, isn’t desirable … yet. But I’ve seen so much death, Ingrid. The time could come when we won’t survive, unless we can act as one and jump to a command.”

“Well, conceivably on Beta Three,” Lindgren admitted. “Though the robot didn’t send any data suggesting intelligent life. At most, we might encounter savages armed with spears — who would probably not be hostile to us.”

“I was dunking of hazards like storms, landslips, diseases, God knows what on an entire world that isn’t Earth. Or a disaster before we get there. I’m not convinced modern man knows everything about the universe.”

“We’ve covered this ground too often.”

“Yes. It’s old as space flight; older. That doesn’t make it less real.” Reymont groped for sentences. “What I’m trying to do is — I’m not sure. This situation is not like any other I was ever in. I’m trying to … somehow … keep alive some idea of authority. Beyond simple obedience to the articles and the officers. Authority which has the right to command anything, to command a man to death, if that’s needful for saving the rest—” He stared into her puzzlement. “No,” he sighed, “you don’t understand. You can’t. Your world was always good.”

“Maybe you can explain it to me, if you say it enough different ways.” She spoke softly. “And maybe I can make a few things clear to you. It won’t be easy. You’ve never taken off your armor, Carl. But we’ll try, shall we?” She smiled and slapped the hardness of his thigh. “Right now, though, silly, we’re supposed to be off duty. What about that swim?”

She slipped out of her garments. He watched her approach him. She liked strenuous sports and lying under a sun lamp afterward. It showed in full breasts and hips, slim waist, long supple limbs, a tan against which her blondness stood vivid. “Bozhe moi, you’re beautiful!” he said low in his throat.

She pirouetted. “At your service, kind sir — if you can catch me!” She made four low-gravity leaps to the end of the diving board and plunged cleanly off it. Her descent was dreamlike slow, a chance for aerial ballet. The splash when she struck made lingering lacy patterns.