Between the Strokes of Night

“CARGO PORT SEVEN CONDITION: CLOSED AND NORMAL. ALL CARGO DELIVERY PODS MOVING NOW TO SAFE RANGE. ALL CARGO SECURE AND BALANCED.”

“ — T MINUS 120 SECONDS, COUNTDOWN PROCEEDING.”

“ — TRANSITION TO COLD SLEEP BEGINS IN THIRTY SECONDS UNLESS ALTERNATE SIGNAL PROVIDED TO CENTRAL CONTROL.”

Ward Lunga’s finger hovered over the button. He hesitated. Unless he took action in the next half minute, the system would initiate the crew’s descent from S-space to cold sleep. “Command: repeat all checks and report any anomalies in condition.”

There was a fraction of a second’s pause. “ALL CHECKS REPEATED. NO ANOMALIES OBSERVED, ALL SYSTEMS ARE READY FOR FLIGHT DEPARTURE.”

“ — T MINUS 100 SECONDS, COUNTDOWN PROCEEDING.”

Lunga moved his hand away from the abort button. He took a last look at the displays, then lay back full-length in the suspense chamber. He started to sit up again, then changed his mind and allowed his body to relax in the tank. The gentle hissing of vapors that would initiate the first phase for cold sleep was already beginning. Time to let the computers and the robots take over, and wake again at Gulf City…

Outside the tank, three figures flickered through the interior of Manta. Peron, Sy, and Elissa were moving cautiously, but to an observer in S-space they went too fast for the eye to follow. The two-hundred-meter length of the ship from cargo hold to control room was traversed in less than an eighth of an S-second, in a flashing blur too rapid for comprehension. The biggest obstacle to even greater speed was the service robots, trundling haphazardly along in their assigned tasks at a slow walking speed.

Ninety-nine S-seconds before launch, they were standing outside the suspense chamber. As a first priority, there must be enough spare tanks to accommodate three extra travellers in cold sleep. If not, there was still time to recall a cargo pod and make their exit from the Manta.

“T MINUS NINETY SECONDS” — the three intruders were now familiar with all the main controls of the ship, had assured themselves of the ship’s immediate destination, and confirmed the trip travel time to the fraction of a second. “T MINUS EIGHTY SECONDS” — after a meal and a four-hour rest period, Sy, Elissa and Peron adjusted the cold sleep settings for the ship’s crew and prepared three unoccupied suspense tanks.

“T MINUS SEVENTY SECONDS” — Sy sent coded messages to Kallen, Lum and Rosanne, one to Earth and one to Paradise, explaining what was happening.

“How confident are you that they’ll know there’s a hidden signal?” asked Peron. “If Kallen receives it, no question.” Sy had smiled grimly. “Sometimes I think he’s as smart as I am. If they can’t find a way to follow us, I expect they’ll send us a message. Want to bet on it with me?”

“Not today.”

“T MINUS SIXTY SECONDS” — every contingency had been checked. Now it was time to settle into their cold sleep chambers, next to the crew members.

“These tanks are set to wake us one S-minute before arrival at Gulf City,” said Peron. “They’ll still be asleep. Sy, are you sure you changed the deceleration profile so that we’ll be in freefall when we wake?”

“Trust me.”

Peron lay in his suspense tank; for the thousandth time his mind ran over the same event sequence. The three of them had reviewed it together until it was totally familiar to each of them.

Arrival time minus one S-minute: They would wake in normal space during the ship’s final approach to Gulf City. One S-minute would give them a little more than one normal day for possible changes to final plans. The Immortals in Gulf City should be in S-space, and unable to formulate a timely response. Arrival in Gulf City; next came control of the service robots. Control of Gulf City itself would follow.…

The cold sleep vapors were hissing about him, and he could feel the cool and unpleasant touch of catheters on his arms and chest. Nothing more to be done now, except to sleep; and wake at Gulf City.

Peron closed his eyes.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Gulf City

Peron opened his eyes, to the immediate knowledge that something had gone terribly wrong.

He should have been in normal space. He was not. The blurred outlines of the objects around him, and their muted colors, told him at once that he was in S-space. And he was no longer in the snug confines of the Manta’s suspense tanks.

He tried to sit up, but could not do it. He was secured by broad straps to the bed that supported him. Worse, he had no feeling or muscular control below the neck. He turned his head desperately from side to side and saw that Elissa lay on his right, with Sy just beyond her. Sy was already fully conscious, looking about him thoughtfully. Elissa’s eyes were just beginning to blink open. Where in Heaven’s name were they? He craned his head forward, and as he did so there was a soft whir of machinery. The bed he lay on was tilting to a semi-upright position, and he was gradually able to see more of his surroundings.