The Broken Cycle Part 3

"Are you seducing me, sir?"

"I wouldn't think of it!" lied Grimes.

"I don't believe you, somehow. Oh, John, how good it is to get away from that horrid Base and Frankie's nasty little s.h.i.+p! I feel free, free!" She pulled the zip of her longjohns down to the crotch. Her released b.r.e.a.s.t.s thrust out at him, every pubic hair seemed to have a life of its own, to be rejoicing in its freedom from restraint. Grimes smelled the odor of her-animal, pungent-and his body responded. His underwear joined hers, floating in mid-cabin in a tangle of entwining limbs. Within seconds he and the girl were emulating the pose of the clothing that they had discarded. Stirred by the air currents the garments writhed in sympathy with the movements of their owners.

Chapter 8.

"The Survey Service looks after its own," said Grimes.

"Then it's high time that it started doing so," she said.

"You can't organize a Search and Rescue Operation in five minutes," he told her.

"All right, all right. We can't expect any help from Skink, Skink, We've already agreed on that. But Frankie will have informed Base of the destruction of the derelict. In the unlikely event of We've already agreed on that. But Frankie will have informed Base of the destruction of the derelict. In the unlikely event of Skink's Skink's having been destroyed herself- having been destroyed herself-you said that she was well out of effective range of the explosion-Base will have been wondering why no reports have been coming in from anybody. And how long have we been here now? Over three weeks." said that she was well out of effective range of the explosion-Base will have been wondering why no reports have been coming in from anybody. And how long have we been here now? Over three weeks."

"If the Carlotti transceiver hadn't been smashed..." he began. "And the mini-Mannschenn...." the mini-Mannschenn...."

"The Normal s.p.a.ce Time transceiver is working-you say, and we hope. Surely by now there'd be somebody somebody in this vicinity, sniffing around for wreckage-and not, therefore, running under interstellar drive. Even I know that. How many days did it take from Lindisfarne Base to the interception?" in this vicinity, sniffing around for wreckage-and not, therefore, running under interstellar drive. Even I know that. How many days did it take from Lindisfarne Base to the interception?"

"Twenty."

"And this is our twenty-third day in this tin coffin. For most of the time we've maintained a continuous listening watch as well as putting out distress calls at regular intervals. I suppose somebody might just pick them up a few years from now."

"s.p.a.ce is vast," said Grimes.

"You're telling me, Buster! But surely Delamere was able to give accurate coordinates for the position of the derelict when we boarded her-when we tried to board her, rather-even if he didn't want to risk his own precious hide investigating...."

"We've been over all this before," said Grimes.

"Then we'll go over it again, lover boy."

"n.o.body survives a nuclear explosion at Position Zero, as we were," said Grimes.

"Are you trying to suggest that we're dead and in some sort of s.p.a.ceman's heaven? Ha, ha. It certainly ain't no policewoman's paradise!"

Grimes ignored this. In any case, the double negative made her meaning unclear (he told himself). He went on, "And Delamere had his schedule to maintain...." Even so, Delamere must must have reported the destruction of have reported the destruction of Delta Geminorum Delta Geminorum to Base. And Base to Base. And Base must must have dispatched a properly equipped vessel to the scene of the disaster to gather whatever evidence, no matter how little, remained, even though it was only radioactive dust and gases. have dispatched a properly equipped vessel to the scene of the disaster to gather whatever evidence, no matter how little, remained, even though it was only radioactive dust and gases.

But why had the boat, and its occupants, not been reduced to that condition?

She broke into his thoughts, remarking, "As I've said before, I'm not a s.p.a.ceman."

He looked across the table at her spectacular superstructure. "Insofar as gender is concerned, how very right you are!"

She pointedly ignored this. "I'm not a s.p.a.ceman, but I do remember some of the things that you people have condescended to tell me, from time to time, about the art and science of astronautics. More than once people have nattered to me about the peculiar consequences of changing the ma.s.s of a s.h.i.+p while the Mannschenn Drive is in operation."

"Old s.p.a.cemen's tales!" scoffed Grimes.

"Really? Then how is it that in every s.h.i.+p that I've traveled in people have regarded that c.o.c.k-eyed a.s.semblage of precessing gyroscopes with superst.i.tious awe? You're all scared of it. And what about the odd effects when the Drive is started, and the temporal precession field builds up, not when it's stopped, and the field fades? The feeling of deja vu... deja vu... The flashes of precognition..." She started to laugh. "What's so funny?" The flashes of precognition..." She started to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"I had a real beaut aboard Skink. Skink. I saw you out of uniform. When I saw you for the first time out of uniform, in actuality, it was in this boat. But I'd already seen that scar you have on your right thigh. But that isn't the I saw you out of uniform. When I saw you for the first time out of uniform, in actuality, it was in this boat. But I'd already seen that scar you have on your right thigh. But that isn't the funny funny part. In my... vision you were not only naked, but riding a bicycle..." part. In my... vision you were not only naked, but riding a bicycle..."

"Very funny. As a matter of fact I saw you the same way. But bicycles are one article of equipment that this boat doesn't run to." funny. As a matter of fact I saw you the same way. But bicycles are one article of equipment that this boat doesn't run to."

"All right. Let's forget the bicycles. Maybe someday we'll enjoy a holiday on Arcadia together. I suppose the Arcadians ride bicycles as well as practicing naturalism. But Delta Geminorum.... Delta Geminorum.... She was running under interstellar drive when she blew up. So were we, maintaining temporal synchronization with her." She was running under interstellar drive when she blew up. So were we, maintaining temporal synchronization with her."

"Go on."

"I'm only a glorified cop, John, but it's obvious, even to me, that a few thousand tons of ma.s.s were suddenly converted into energy in our immediate vicinity. So, Mr. Lieutenant Commander Grimes, where are we?"

Grimes was beginning to feel badly scared. "Or when... when...?" he muttered.

"What the h.e.l.l do you mean?"

He said, "Brace yourself for yet another lecture on the Mannschenn Drive. The Mannschenn Drive warps the Continuum-the s.p.a.ce-time continuum-about the s.h.i.+p that's using it. Putting it very crudely, such a s.h.i.+p is going astern in time while going ahead in s.p.a.ce...."

"So.... So we could be anywhere. Or anywhen. But you're a navigator. You should be able to find out something from the relative positions of the stars."

"Not so easy," he told her. "The Carlotti transceiver, which can be used for position finding as well as communicating, is bust. We do carry, of course, a Catalogue of Carlotti Beacons-but in these circ.u.mstances it's quite useless."

"Especially so," she pointed out, "when we don't even know if there are are any Carlotti Beacons in this s.p.a.ce-time. So, lover boy, what are you doing about it?" any Carlotti Beacons in this s.p.a.ce-time. So, lover boy, what are you doing about it?"

Grimes' prominent ears flushed angrily. She was being unfair. She shared the responsibility for getting them into this mess. She, the bomb-disposal expert, should have warned him of the possible consequences of using a Carlotti transmitter in close proximity to the derelict. He rose from the table haughtily. It was no hards.h.i.+p for him to leave his unfinished meal. He stalked, insofar as this was possible when wearing only magnetic sandals in Free Fall, to the forward end of the boat. He stared out through the control cabin viewports at the interstellar immensities. There was no star that he could identify, no constellation. Had he been made a welcome visitor in Skink's Skink's control room he would have known how the stars should look in this sector of s.p.a.ce. As it was.... He shrugged. All that he could be sure of was that they were in control room he would have known how the stars should look in this sector of s.p.a.ce. As it was.... He shrugged. All that he could be sure of was that they were in a a universe, not necessarily universe, not necessarily the the universe. At least the boat hadn't fallen down some dark crack in the continuum. universe. At least the boat hadn't fallen down some dark crack in the continuum.

He turned away from the port, looked aft. He saw that Una Freeman had taken the broken, battered Carlotti transceiver from the locker in which it had been stowed, was picking up and looking at the pieces intently. Nude with Moebius Strip, Nude with Moebius Strip, he thought sardonically. he thought sardonically.

She waved the twisted antenna at him. "Are you sure sure you can't do anything with this lot?" she demanded. you can't do anything with this lot?" she demanded.

"Quite sure. I'm not a radio technician."

"Then you can't be sure that it is is a complete write-off." Her wide, fun mouth was capable of quite spectacular sneering. "Get the lead out of your pants, lover boy-not that you're wearing any. You've been having a marvelous holiday for the last three weeks; it's high time that you started work again." a complete write-off." Her wide, fun mouth was capable of quite spectacular sneering. "Get the lead out of your pants, lover boy-not that you're wearing any. You've been having a marvelous holiday for the last three weeks; it's high time that you started work again."

"Mphm?"

"I thought, in my girlish innocence...."

"Ha, ha."

She glared at him. "I thought, in my girlish innocence that all you s.p.a.cefaring types were men of infinite resource and sagacity, able to make repairs, light years from the nearest yard, with chewing gum and old string. I'd like to see some proof of it."

He said, "I might be able to straighten out the antenna and get it remounted. But the printed circuits are a mess."

She said, "There're soldering irons in the workshop."

"I know. But have you had a good look at those trays?"

"Of course. Trays of circuitry. Since simple soldering seems to be beyond your capabilities...."

"And yours."

"I'm not the skilled, trained, qualified s.p.a.ceman, lover boy. You are. But let me finish. As a Sky Marshal I had to do quite a few courses on general s.p.a.cemans.h.i.+p, including Deep s.p.a.ce communications. One of the things I learned was that quite a few circuit trays are interchangeable between NST and Carlotti transceivers. Since it's obvious now that we shall not be needing the NST transceiver-we cannibalize. After that's been done, lover boy, all we have to do is home on the Lindisfarne Beacon."

"And how many years will it take us?" he asked sarcastically.

"Oh, I forgot. After you've fixed the Carlotti set you fix the mini-Mannschenn."

Chapter 9.

There was a Radio Technician's Manual in the boat's book locker. Grimes got it out. Unluckily the writer of it had a.s.sumed that anybody reading it would possess at least a smattering of knowledge concerning Deep s.p.a.ce radio. Grimes was not such a person. He knew that the Carlotti equipment propagated signals which, somehow, ignored the normal three dimensions of s.p.a.ce and, by taking a shortcut of some kind, arrived at the receiving station, no matter how many light years distant, practically instantaneously. In any s.h.i.+p that he had been in the thing had worked. There had always been fully qualified officers to see that it worked. Had the complete boarding party been in the boat when she pushed off from Skink Skink there would have been such an officer among her crew. (But, thought Grimes, had he taken the full boarding party with him he would not have been alone with Una.) there would have been such an officer among her crew. (But, thought Grimes, had he taken the full boarding party with him he would not have been alone with Una.) He and the girl puzzled over the text and the diagrams. They could make neither head nor tail of the latter, but they discovered that printed circuit tray #3 of NST transceiver Mark VII could be subst.i.tuted for tray #1 of Carlotti transceiver Mark IVA, and so on and so on. It began to look as though Una's idea would work.

Before commencing operations he started up the inertial drive. He was not, as yet, going anywhere in particular, but physical work is more easily carried out in a gravitational field-or under acceleration-than in free fall conditions. Then, with Una a.s.sisting, he pulled the circuit trays out of the Carlotti set. Number one, obviously, would have to be replaced. That presented no problem. Number two was obviously nonfunctional. Number two from the NST transceiver was the recommended subst.i.tute. Number three appeared to be undamaged. Number four was in almost as big a mess as number one-and none of the NST circuits could be used in its stead.

So, soldering it had to be.

Grimes carried the tray to the little workshop that shared s.p.a.ce with the boat's power plant and propulsive units, put it on the bench. He had the Manual open at the proper page, thought that he would be able to patch things up. He was a messy solderer and soon discovered that clothing is worn for protection as well as for adornment or motives of prudery. Una-who was annoyingly amused-applied first aid; then Grimes got into his longjohns before continuing.

When he was finished-a few hours and several burns later-the tray still looked a mess, but Grimes was reasonably confident that the circuits were not anywhere shorted. He carried the tray back to the transceiver-which had been set up in its proper position-and slid it carefully into place. He switched on. The pilot lights lit up. There would be neither transmission nor reception, however, until the antenna was remounted and operational.

They had a hasty meal, then returned to the workshop. The antenna was a metal Moebius Strip, oval rather than circular, on a universal bearing which, in turn, was at the head of a driving shaft. The shaft had been snapped just below the bearing, and the antenna itself had been bent out of its elliptical configuration. Fortunately there was among the motor spares a steel rod of circular section and exactly the right diameter. It had to be shortened by about five centimeters, but with the tools available that was no hards.h.i.+p. The broken shaft was removed from the transceiver, the new one s.h.i.+pped. The antenna-back in shape, Grimes hoped-was, on its bearing, secured to the projecting end of the shaft with a set screw.

"Will it work?" asked Una skeptically. "There's only one way to find out," Grimes told her. He switched on again, set the Direction Finding controls to hunt. In theory (and, hopefully, in practice) the aerial array would now automatically line up on the strongest incoming Carlotti signal.

The shaft began to rotate slowly, the Moebius Strip antenna wobbled on its universal bearing. It seemed to be questing as it turned. Abruptly it steadied, although still turning about its long axis. From the speaker came not the Morse sequence of a Beacon but something that sounded like somebody speaking. It was in no language that either of them knew, and the voice did not sound human. Suddenly it stopped, but Grimes had noted relative bearing and alt.i.tude.

He looked at Una, his eyebrows raised. She looked at him dubiously.

"Something..." he said slowly.

"Not... somebody?"

"All right. Somebody. Somebody capable of constructing-or, at least, using-Deep s.p.a.ce communications equipment."

"Should we put out a call now that this contraption's working?"

"No," he decided. He laughed harshly. "I like to see whom I'm talking to before I talk to them. We'll let the direction finder go on hunting for a while. Maybe it will pick up something a little more promising...."

But it did not.

At intervals of exactly twenty-three minutes and fourteen seconds it steadied on the transmission in the unknown language, on the same relative bearing.

Grimes remembered an engineer officer in a big s.h.i.+p in which he had served as a junior watchkeeper. He had watched this gentleman while he overhauled the mini-Mannschenn of one of the cruiser's boats. It had been a job requiring both patience and a remarkably steady hand. After a spindle had slipped out of its bearing for the fifteenth time the specialist had sworn, "d.a.m.n it all, I'm an engineer, not a b.l.o.o.d.y watchsmith!" He then went on to say, "The s.h.i.+p's Mannschenn Drive unit, with all its faults, is a machine. machine. This f.u.c.king thing's only an instrument!" He told the little story to Una. She said, "That's no excuse. Somebody a.s.sembled it once. You can a.s.semble it again. Nothing seems to be damaged. It's just a question of getting all the rotors turning and precessing freely." This f.u.c.king thing's only an instrument!" He told the little story to Una. She said, "That's no excuse. Somebody a.s.sembled it once. You can a.s.semble it again. Nothing seems to be damaged. It's just a question of getting all the rotors turning and precessing freely."

"Quite simple, in fact."

"Quite simple," she said, ignoring the sarcasm.

"Perhaps you'd like to try."

"I'm a policewoman, not a watchsmith."

"Ha, ha. Now.... Get in there, d.a.m.n you!" Click. Click. "That's it." "That's it."

"You've a little wheel left over," she pointed out. "And you'll have to remove the one you just got in to get it back."

"Not if I precess it... so...."

"One of the other rotors has fallen out now." Then she went away and left him to it, and without his audience he got along much better. At last the rea.s.sembled mini-Mannschenn was ready for use. It looked like a complex, glittering toy, an a.s.semblage of tiny, gleaming flywheels, every axle of which was set at an odd angle to all of the others. Once it was started the ever-precessing, ever-tumbling rotors would drag the boat and its crew down and through the dark dimensions, through a warped continuum in which s.p.a.ce and time were meaningless concepts. He touched one of the rotors tentatively with a cautious forefinger. It spun on its almost frictionless bearings and the others turned in sympathy. Although there was, as yet, almost no precession, the s.h.i.+ning wheels glimmered and winked on the very edge of invisibility.

He called out, "We're in business!"

"Then get the show on the road," retorted Una. "We've been sitting here on our a.r.s.es, doing sweet f.u.c.k all, for too b.l.o.o.d.y long!"

Grimes used the single directional gyroscope to line the boat up on the last bearing from which the mysterious call had come. Then he switched on the mini-Mannschenn. To judge from the brief temporal disorientation, the sensation of deja vu, deja vu, the thing was working perfectly. the thing was working perfectly.

Chapter 10.

At intervals of exactly twenty-three minutes and fourteen seconds the signal continued to come through. It was the same message every time, the same words spoken in the same high-pitched, unhuman voice. Dizzard waling torpet droo. Contabing blee. Contabing uwar. Contabing dinzin. Waling torpet, waling droo. Tarfelet, tarfelet, tarfelet. Dizzard waling torpet droo. Contabing blee. Contabing uwar. Contabing dinzin. Waling torpet, waling droo. Tarfelet, tarfelet, tarfelet. It was in no language that either of them knew or, even, knew about. It was in no language that either of them knew or, even, knew about.

There were other signals, weaker, presumably more distant. Some were spoken, in the same or in another unknown language. Some were coded buzzings. The Carlotti transceiver was fitted with a visiscreen, but this was useless. Either these people-whoever they were-did not use visiscreens, or the system they employed used a different principle from that used by humans.

The boat ran on, and on. Soon it became obvious that they were heading for a star, a G type sun. That star would possess a family of planets, and it must be from one of these that the signals were emanating. The interstellar drive was shut down briefly while a navigational check was made. The target star, when viewed through the control cabin binoculars, showed as a disc. This concurred with the strength of the signal now being received.

The drive was restarted, but Grimes stood in cautiously now. Every twenty-three minutes and fourteen seconds he was obliged to shut down again to correct trajectory. The source of the signal was, obviously, in orbit about the sun. That star was now almost as big as Sol seen from Earth, its limbs subtending an angle of over fifty degrees. With the final alteration of course it was broad on the boat's starboard beam.

The interstellar drive was now shut down permanently. Ahead gleamed the world from which the signals were being sent, a tiny half moon against the darkness. Slowly it expanded as the little s.p.a.cecraft, its inertial drive hammering flat out, overhauled it in its...o...b..t. "A stern chase is a long chase," philosophized Grimes, "but it's better than a head-on collision!"

It was a barren world, they saw, as they drew closer, an apparently dead one. There were no city lights gleaming from the night hemisphere. There were clouds in the atmosphere, but, glimpsed through them were neither the blues of seas nor the greens of vegetation; neither were there polar icecaps nor the sparkling white chains of snow-covered mountain peaks. This was odd, as the planet lay well within the ecosphere.

Before going into orbit about it Grimes decided on a resumption of clothing. Anything might happen, he said, and he did not want to be caught with his pants down. "Or off," said Una, struggling into her own longjohns.