Between the Strokes of Night

He begin to straighten up, but somehow the frail hand found the strength to grip his sleeve.

“You are with the Institute?” The words were faint and muffled.

“Yes.” It was a surprise to find that Wherry was still able to speak. “Come with me.” The weak voice could still command. Wolfgang nodded, then hesitated as Olivia Ferranti prepared to wheel Wherry slowly away. Charlene was speaking to de Vries again, asking the question that Wolfgang himself had wanted to ask.

“Jan,” she was saying. “We’ve tried to reach Niles. Where is she?” “She is here. On this ship.” De Vries put his hands to his eyes. “She’s unconscious. I didn’t want her to come. I wanted her to wait, build up her strength, have the operation, then follow us. She insisted on coming. And she was right. But back on Earth, she could have been helped. “Now…” Wolfgang struggled to make sense of de Vries’ words. But the frail hand was again on Wolfgang’s arm, and the thread of voice was speaking again. “Come. Now. Must talk now.”

Wolfgang hesitated for a second, then reluctantly followed the stretcher out of the control room.

Salter Wherry turned his head toward Wolfgang, and a dry tongue moved over the pale lips. “Stand close.”

“Don’t try to talk,” said Ferranti.

Wherry ignored her. “Must give message. Must tell Niles what is to be done. You listening?”

“I’m listening.” Wolfgang nodded. “Go ahead, I’ll make sure that she gets the message.”

“Tell her I know she saw through narcolepsy. Thought she might — too simple for her. Want her to know reason — real reason — why had to have her here.” There was a long pause. Wherry’s eyes closed. Wolfgang thought that he had lapsed into unconsciousness, but when the old voice spoke again it sounded stronger and more coherent.

“I had my own reasons for needing her — and she had hers for coming. I don’t know what they were; I want her to know mine. And I want her to carry plan out here. I hoped we wouldn’t blow ourselves up down there, but I had to prepare for worst. Just in time, eh?” There was a wheezing groan, that Wolfgang realized was a laugh. “Story of my life. Just in time. ‘Nother day, we’d have been too late.” He moved his arm feebly as Ferranti took it to make an injection. “No sedatives. Hurts — in my chest — but I can stand that. You, boy.” The eyes burned into Wolfgang. “Lean close. Can’t talk much more. Tell you my dream, want you to tell Niles to make it hers.”

Wolfgang stooped over the frail body. There was a long pause.

“Genesis. You remember Genesis?” Wherry’s voice was fading, indistinct. “Have to do what Genesis says. ‘Be fruitful and multiply.’ Fruitful, and multiply.” Wolfgang looked quickly at Ferranti. “He’s rambling.”

“Not rambling.” There was a faint edge of irritability still in the weak voice. “Listen. Made arcologies to go long way — seed universe. Be fruitful, and multiply. See? Self-sustaining, run thousand years — ten thousand. But can’t do it. We’re weak link. Fight, change minds, change societies, kill leaders, breakdown systems. Damned fools. Never last thousand years, not even hundred.” They had reached the Med Center, and Wherry was being lifted onto a table all prepared for emergency operations. A needle was sliding into his left arm, while a battery of bright lights went on all around them.

Wherry rolled his head with a last effort to face Wolfgang. “Tell Niles. Want her to develop suspended animation. That’s why need Institute on station.” The breathing mask had been removed, and there was a travesty of a smile on the tortured face. “Thought once I might be first experiment. See stars for myself. Sorry won’t be that way. But tell her. Tell her. Cold sleep… end of everything… sleep…”

Olivia Ferranti was at Wolfgang’s side. “He’s under,” she said. “We want you out of here — we’re going to operate now.”

“Can you save him?”

“I don’t think so. This is the third attack.” She bit her lip. For the first time, Wolfgang noticed her large, luminous eyes and sad mouth. “Last time it was a patch-up job, but we hoped it would last longer than this. One chance in ten, no more. Less unless we start at once.”

Wolfgang nodded. “Good luck.”

He made his way slowly back along the corridors. They were deserted; everyone on the station had retreated with their thoughts. Wolfgang, usually impervious to fatigue, felt drained and beaten. The explosions on Earth rose unbidden in his mind, a collage of destruction with Jan de Vries’ sad face overlaid on it. The morning optimism and the joking inventory of supplies with Charlene felt weeks away.

He finally came to the control room. Hans was alone there, watching the displays. He seemed in a shocked trance, but he roused himself at Wolfgang’s voice.

“The missile defense system has been turned off. They were too busy with themselves — down there — to waste their time on us. Your ships will start docking any time now.”

“What’s the situation?” Wolfgang nodded his head at the screen, where the big display showed the smudged and raddled face of Earth.