Heinlein, Robert A Common Sense

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far away when I, too, must make the Trip to the Converter.
"There has been a curious change in orientation in my people. Never having lived on a planet, it
becomes more difficult as time passes for them to comprehend anything not connected with the Ship. I
have ceased trying to talk to them about it; it is hardly a kindness anyhow, as I have no hope of leading
them out of the darkness. Theirs is a hard life at best: they strive for a crop only to have it raided by the
outlaws who still flourish on the upper levels. Why speak to them of better things?
"Rather than pass this on to my successor I have decided to attempt to hide it, if possible, in the
single Ship's boat left by the mutineers who escaped. It will be safe there a long time, otherwise some
witless fool may decide to use it for fuel for the Converter. I caught the man on watch feeding it with the
last of a set of Encyclopaedia Terresriana: priceless books. The idiot had never been taught to read!
Some rule must be instituted concerning books.
"This is my last entry. I have put off making the attempt to place this log in safekeeping, because it is
very perilous to ascend above the lower decks. But my life is no longer valuable; I wish to die knowing
that a true record is left.
"Theodor Mawson, Captain."
Even the twins were silent for a long time after Hugh stopped reading. At last Joe heaved a long sigh
and said, "So that's how it happened."
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"The poor guy," Hugh said softly.
"Who? Captain Mawson? Why so?"
"No, not Captain Mawson. That other guy, Pilot Officer Baldwin. Think of him going out through that
door, with Huff on the other side." Hugh shivered. In spite of his enlightenment, he subconsciously
envisioned Huff, 'Huff the Accursed, first to sin,' as about twice as high as Joe-Jim, twice as strong as
Bobo, and having fangs rather than teeth.
Hugh borrowed a couple of porters from Ertz, porters whom Ertz was using to fetch the pickled
bodies of the war casualties to the Main Converter for fuel, and used them to provision the Ship's boat:
water, breadstuffs, preserved meats, mass for the Converter. He did not report the matter to Narby, nor
did he report the discovery of the boat itself. He had no conscious reason; Narby irritated him.
The star of their destination grew and grew, swelled until it showed a visible disc and was too bright
to be stared at long. Its bearing changed rapidly, for a star; it pulled across the backdrop of the stellariwn
dome. Left uncontrolled, the Ship would have swung part way around it in a wide hyperbolic arc,
accelerated as it flipped around the star, then sped off again into the darkness. It took Hugh the
equivalent of many weeks to calculate the elements of the trajectory; it took still longer for Ertz and
Joe-Jim to check his figures and satisfy themselves that the preposterous answers were right. It took even
longer to convince Ertz that the way to rendezvous in space was to apply a force that pushed one away
from where one wished to go, that is to say, dig in the heels, put on the brakes, kill the momentum.
In fact it took a series of experiments in free flight on the level of weightlessness to sell him the idea,
otherwise he would have favored finishing the Trip by the simple expedient of crashing headlong into the
star at top Speed. Thereafter Hugh and Joe-Jim calculated how to apply acceleration to kill the speed of
the Vanguard and warp her into an eccentric ellipse around the star. After that, they would search for
planets.
Ertz bad a little trouble understanding the difference between a planet and a star. Alan never did get
it.
"If my numbering is correct," Hugh informed Ertz, "we should start accelerating any time now."
"O.K.," Ertz told him. "Main Drive is ready: over two hundred bodies and a lot of waste mass. What
are waiting for?"
"Let's see Narby and get permission to start."
"Why ask him?"
Hugh shrugged. "He's Captain. He'll want to know."
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"All right. Let's pick up Joe-Jim and get on with it." They left Hugh's apartment and went to
Joe-Jim's. Joe-Jim was not there, but they found Alan looking for him, too.
"Squatty says he's gone down to the Captain's office," Alan informed him.
"So? It's just as well. We'll see him there. Alan, old boy, you know what?"
"What?"
"The time has arrived. We're going to do it! Start moving the Ship!" Alan looked round-eyed. "Gee!
Right now?"
"Just as soon as we can notify the Captain. Come along, if you like."
"You bet! Wait while I tell my woman." He darted away to his own quarters nearby.
"He pampers that wench," remarked Ertz.
"Sometimes you can't help it," said Hugh with a faraway look.
Alan returned promptly, although it was evident that he had taken time to change to a fresh
breechcloth. "O.K.," he bubbled. "Let's go!"
Alan approached the Captain's office with a proud step. He was an important guy now, he exulted to
himself. He'd march on through with his friends while the guards saluted; no more of this business of being
pushed around.
But the doorkeeper did not stand aside, although he did salute, while placing himself so that he filled
the door. "Gangway, man!" Ertz said gruffly.
"Yes, sir," acknowledged the guard, without moving. "Your weapons, please."
"What! Don't you know me, you idiot? I'm the Chief Engineer."
"Yes, sir. Leave your weapons with me, please. Regulations."
Ertz put a hand on the man's shoulder and shoved. The guard stood firm. "I'm sorry, sir. No one
approaches the Captain wearing weapons. No one."
"Well, I'll be damned!"
"He remembers what happened to the old Captain," Hugh observed sotto voce. "He's smart." He
drew his own knife and tossed it to the guard, who caught it neatly by the hilt. Ertz looked; shrugged, and
handed over his own. Alan, considerably crestfallen, passed his own pair over with a look that should
have shortened the guard's life.
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Narby was talking; Joe-Jim was scowling on both his faces; Bobo looked puzzled, and naked,
unfinished, without his ubiquitous knives and slingshot. "The matter is closed, Joe-Jim. That is my [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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