To The Stars

Kjell jetted them to the comsat which was anchored to a spar. The bulk of a deep spacer was not far beyond. Some men were working on her hull and there was the sudden red flare of a laser welder. Seen in space, in its correct environment, the communication satellite was more impressive than it had ever looked in the sterile room on Earth. It was gouged and eroded by years of bombardment of microparticles. They clipped onto it and Jan pointed out the cover plates he wanted removed. He watched closely as Kjell used the counter-rotating powered screwdriver. Then he tried it himself, clumsily at first but with increasing skill. After an hour of this he found the fatigue creeping up so he stopped and they returned. He turned in soon after and slept very well indeed.

When they went out again during the next work period he had the metal recording envelopes in his pocket. It was very easy to slip them into the outer leg pocket of his suit.

By the third day he was working well and Kjell seemed satisfied with his progress.

“I’m going to leave you alone now. Shout if you need some help. I’ll be inside that navsat there,” he said.

“I hope not. I have these boards out where I can get to them so I’m all set for awhile. Thanks for the “More thanks to you. This equipment has been waiting years for your master’s touch.”

Jan must have been under constant observation — or his radio messages were being monitored. Probably both. He was still unshipping his monitor screen when a spacesuited figure moved out from behind the nearby spacer, drifting his way with skillful puffs of gas from his backpack. The man came close, stopped, then touched his helmet to Jan’s. Their radios were off but the sound of his voice came clearly through the contacting surfaces.

“Have you checked your safety line lately?”

His features were invisible behind the mirrored helmet. Jan fumbled the recording out of his pocket and passed it through the beam of his work light. It was the correct one. The man took it from his hand and pushed off at the same instant, turning as he drifted away.

A second man appeared out of the darkness, moving fast, faster than Jan had ever seen one of the suits move before. It was on a collision course and he slammed into the first man with soundless impact, triggering the laser welder he held before him just as they hit.

It was a microsecond burst, a jet of brilliant red light that burned a gaping hole through suit and man in an instant. Oxygen puffed out and froze into a cloud of tiny brilliant crystals. There was no radioed alarm either; the attacker must have placed the beam to destroy the suit computer as well.

Jan was still rigid with shock when the second man let the laser swing from its line and grabbed the dead man, triggering his jets at the same time. They must have had specially fitted high-pressure orifices because the two figures accelerated away swiftly — then separated. The attacker reversed thrust, but no longer held onto the dead man. The corpse went out and out, leaving a comet tail of frozen oxygen, growing smaller, dwindling from sight.

The other man braked to a stop next to Jan and held out his hand. For a long moment Jan, still shocked by the speed and deadliness of the attack, did not realize what was needed. Then he reached into his pocket and extracted the second recording, passing it over. He could not help recoiling when the other helmet moved and pressed against his.

“Well done,” the distant voice said. Then he was gone.

Nineteen

Two days later, in the middle of a sleep period, Jan was woken by the shrill beep-beep of the phone. He blinked at the illuminated time readout; he had only been asleep about three hours. With a muttered grumble he turned on the phone and Sonia Amarigho’s features filled the screen.

“Jan, are you there?” she said. “My screen’s dark.”

Still hoping to get back to sleep, he switched to infrared pickup instead of turning on the light. His image would be black and white, but clear enough for the phone.

“I was afraid you would be sleeping,” Sonia said. “I am sorry to awaken you.”

“That’s all right. I had to get up to answer the phone anyway.

She pursed her lips in concentration — then smiled. “Ohh, a joke. Very good.” The smile vanished. “It is important I call because you must return to London at once. This is a necessity.”

“I’m not really finished here.”

“I am sorry. But you will have to leave the work. It is hard to explain.”

Jan had the sudden cold feeling that this was not her doing, that she had been ordered to recall him. He did not want to press her. “All right then. I’ll get through to shuttle control and call you back…”

“That will not be needed. The flight leaves in about two hours and you have been booked on it. There will be time?”

“Yes, just about. I’ll phone you as soon as I get in.”