Loss Leader Page 2

  'This was the last glimpse of Earth for three thousand people,' she said solemnly. 'Just what did happen all those years ago?' Her ponytail shook as she turned to stare up at the overcast sky. 'Next week I'll give you the truth.'

  The remote slipped from Mortlock's fingers as his head fell back onto the pillow. The last thing he heard was the nurse's sharply indrawn breath.

  ***

  Erin blinked several times to clear the gummy residue from her eyes. Harsh light stabbed into her brain as she forced her eyes open, the first she had seen for ... how long? She shivered suddenly, cold despite the warm air flowing through the cryo-tank. The curved perspex lid was an inch or two from the tip of her nose, and as her eyes focused she made out a distorted caricature of a human face reflecting back off the clear plastic. She blinked and turned her head, her throat tickling as the cleansers removed the last traces of fluid from her lungs. Something stabbed her right arm, jolting her with an electric shock. The breath hissed in through her teeth, and only then did she realise it was the first she had taken since waking. Her chest felt painfully tight, like perished rubber.

  Gradually the stabbing pain eased, and her breathing settled down to a slow, steady rhythm.

  The lid on the tank popped open with a hiss, swung out of the way on twin hydraulic rams, then locked into place with a metallic click. Something pressed for attention in the back of Erin's mind as she stared into the darkness.

  Then it came to her: she had no idea where she was.

  She tried to sit up, struggling for several seconds before she thought to look down at herself. She was naked, and a solid-looking strap crossed her chest, tight enough to restrict her breathing. Another bound her legs.

  Her mind began to work on the problem. She couldn't move her arms, trapped as they were under the wide band of metal. She opened her mouth and croaked a single word.

  'Help.'

  There was a beep, and a voice spoke next to her ear. 'Please specify nature of help required.'

  'I can't get up,' said Erin, the words forced out of her dry throat one by one. She heard a click, and the bands swung open. 'Who are you?' she asked, as she twisted her head to get a look at the source of the voice.

  'Have you suffered memory loss? Your vital signs are normal but I detect changes in your ECG.'

  Erin sat up, and immediately the tank whirled around her like a demented carnival ride. She closed her eyes and swallowed. 'Does it have to do that?'

  'I don't understand.'

  'The tank. Does it have to spin like that?'

  There was a long silence before the computer spoke again. 'The pod is not in motion, Erin. Perhaps the effects of cryo sleep have not worn off yet.'

  'Cryo sleep?'

  'Surely you remember?' There was a faint undertone in the computer's otherwise level voice. 'You are aboard the colony ship Glory, with one thousand colonists and three crew members.'

  'Glory?' Erin looked up at the even rows of perforations in the ceiling panels. 'Why is it so quiet?'

  'We left the solar system thirty years ago. After initial acceleration the engines were shut down. Tell me, do you remember planet Earth?'

  Erin frowned. 'Dark with patches of light. They didn't want me there.'

  'I have prepared a mix of stimulants to help you. May I administer them?'

  'I guess.' There was a quick flash of movement, and Erin stared stupidly at her upper arm, where a drop of blood welled from a pinprick. 'Ouch,' she said.

  'I apologise for the discomfort.'

  Erin took a deep breath as fire and ice chased each other through her body. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked around cryo-bay six with a series of sharp glances that missed nothing. 'Where are the others? Why did you wake me?'

  'They are still asleep,' said the computer. 'I was forced to revive you because of a minor fault in your pod. It will be necessary for you to use to a spare.' There was a pause. 'Has your memory recovered?'

  Erin stood up. 'Almost. Just tell me where I left my damned clothes.'

  ***

  Greg Roth ran his fingers through his hair and blew out his cheeks. 'Memory loss?'

  Erin nodded. 'We may be able to stave off the effects by coming out of cryo at regular intervals.' She hesitated. 'That goes for the colonists, too.'

  Roth stared at her, face ashen. 'You want to cycle a thousand people? The four of us?' He did a quick mental calculation. 'Erin, it's seventy years to the first planet. If we have to wake a thousand people twice we're going to age ten years each!'

  Erin spread her hands. 'The alternative doesn't bear thinking about.'

  'But what if the first planet isn't suitable,' said Roth, his voice rising. 'It's ninety years to the next. And fifty to the one after.' He leant forward, eyes wide. 'We could die of old age out here.'

  'We'll teach some of the colonists to operate the pods. Everyone can have a four-month stint.'

  'And what if some of them go nuts, start frigging around with the controls up here? No thanks. Anyway, how can you be sure this memory loss is cumulative?'

  'I can't be sure. The only thing we can do is wake everybody at fixed intervals until we get to ...'

  The computer broke in. 'I hope you don't consider this an intrusion,' it began.

  Erin looked up. 'Go ahead.'

  'There are insufficient supplies for such a plan. A minute quantity of liquid is lost each time you revive the occupant of a cryo-tank. The compounding effect of such a loss ...'

  Erin frowned. 'This is a closed system.'

  'There is always some leakage,' said the computer. 'Hence the storage tanks.'

  Roth stared across the table. 'What the hell are we going to do?'

  Erin stood up and crossed to the console. She played with a keyboard for a few moments, calling up several displays in quick succession. 'The computer's right. We'll never make it.'

  Roth groaned. 'Oh brilliant.'

  'There is one planet within reach.'

  Roth looked up, a faint hope in his eyes. 'Where?'

  Erin tapped a command on the keyboard and a file picture appeared on the main screen. It was a green and blue planet, and it took Roth a moment or two to realise what he was looking at. Then he began to laugh.

  'I'll go and wake the others,' said Erin. 'They'll have to be in on this.'

  'What about the colonists? Won't they object?'

  Erin shrugged. 'What choice do we have?'

  ***

  'We are there?' Anton sat up slowly, bracing himself against the side of the pod with hairy, muscular arms.

  'Not quite.' Erin averted her eyes as she handed him a towel.

  Anton dried his upper body then stood up, swaying, and wrapped the towel around his waist. 'What ...' He coughed. 'What is the emergency?'

  Erin stared at him. 'You know where you are?'

  'You woke me to ask me this? We are aboard the Glory, outbound from Earth.'

  Erin strode to a commset and called the flight deck.

  'Yes?' It was Roth's voice.

  'Greg, Anton's okay. No problems with his memory at all.' The speaker was silent. 'Greg?'

  'What does that mean for us? For the colonists?'

  Erin heard Anton's bare feet on the metal deck. She turned round as the Frenchman put a hand on her shoulder.

  'What is the matter, Erin? What is this memory loss?'

  'We're thirty years into the trip. My pod had a failure, and the computer revived me. When I came out, I was like a newborn. I could speak, but I had no memory.'

  Anton stared at her, concern in his eyes. 'That is bad.'

  'The computer gave me a batch of stimulants, and gradually everything came back. The trouble is, we don't know what the effects will be over a longer period.'

  'Perhaps it is best if you wake every thirty years?'

  'Sure, and what about the colonists? This ship wasn't designed as a hotel. Can you imagine how long it will take to wake each one and test them?'

  'But you need only do it once. The ones who s
how no effects, they can stay in their beds until arrival. The rest can be woken at intervals.'

  'What if the effects take longer? What if your mind goes after fifty years instead of thirty? What if the colonists refuse to go back into sleep? They could stage a riot, smash the flight deck up, anything.'

  Anton was silent.

  'We've decided to turn back,' said Erin quietly.

  'Ah, non!' cried Anton. 'That is not the deal! Never will I return to that overcrowded waste dump. Me, I prefer to die in space!'

  Erin pressed her lips together.

  'Look, this memory problem, it is a worry. We will discuss the alternatives. But to run back with the tails between our legs? That, never!'

  'There are four of us, Anton. We'll revive Winters, then we can decide.'

  ***

  'So, gentlemen. It looks like I have the casting vote.' Erin sat back in her seat, felt the sweat on her forehead as she pushed a loose strand of hair away. They'd been talking for hours, going over the problem again and again without reaching any sort of agreement.

  Sandon Winters had emerged from his cryo-pod showing no ill-effects. He and Anton were all for waking the colonists, dividing them into two groups and continuing with the journey. Roth and Erin, on the other hand, were ready to turn back.

  'There is one thing you haven't considered,' said Roth, his face drawn. 'They were going to send a colony ship every decade, doubling the rate once the manufacturing was automated. How many thousands do you think might die if we don't go back and warn them?'

  Anton stared at him. 'If we turn now, already they will have sent a dozen ships when we get back.'

  'He's right,' said Winters. 'We're too late to save any of them.'

  Erin looked at him in distaste. 'Not for the dozens scheduled to leave after we get back.'

  Winters shook his head. 'By now they'll have refined the process, improved the ships beyond recognition. They'll still have a maximum top speed, because of the ablative effect on the matter shields.' He frowned. 'If they've cracked atomic-level manufacturing, they may even have perfected a better one.'

  Anton nodded. 'We return and they put us in a sideshow, yes? Look at primitive man, living in primitive ship. Not a way to impress, that.'

  Winters glanced at Erin, a calculating look in his eyes.

  She stared back. 'What?'

  'There are others who have a say in this. We must ask the colonists.'

  'What, all of them?'

  'We will revive a cross-section. A random sample. They can provide us with a vote.'

  Erin shook her head. 'It won't work. They won't want to decide for the majority.'

  'We can explain the situation, tell them there isn't enough energy or spare fluid to revive more. I say we wake ten colonists.' Winters leant forward. 'You have to agree, it's the democratic thing to do.'

  Anton nodded slowly in agreement.

  'This isn't a democracy, Winters. I'm in charge. I've got the deciding vote, and we're turning home.'

  Winters jumped up, his face working. 'You can't do this! I refuse to let you screw up the rest of my life!'

  Erin leant forward. 'Yet you want to screw mine up, by forcing me back into the cryo-pod.' She turned to face the console and addressed the computer. 'I want you to calculate a course which will take us back to Earth.'

  'I'm afraid that is not possible,' said the computer.

  'What?' Erin frowned. 'Access priority one.'

  'Identify yourself.'

  'Erin Campsie, commander.'

  'Priority one access granted.'

  'Course change required. Destination, Earth. Calculate and activate.'

  'Unable to comply.'

  'Explain!'

  'Our course was hard-coded into my operating system before final compilation and encryption. It cannot be altered.'

  Erin stared, her face white. 'Why, dammit?'

  'Because this is a one-way journey.'

  There was a snort behind her. Erin spun round to see Winters' face creased in a triumphant sneer. 'Looks like the computer's got the deciding vote.'

  Erin held up her hand and addressed the computer. 'We have to turn around. You yourself have admitted that we can't make the first planet.'

  'That is not correct. We can reach all the planets, stopping at the first which offers the right mix of climate and atmosphere.'

  'But we'll arrive as mindless vegetables!' yelled Roth. Erin jumped as he slammed his fist on the table. 'You can't let this happen!'

  'Save your breath,' said Erin, her voice quiet. 'During priority one access I have sole control of the computer.'

  'You call this control?' yelled Roth. His eyes bored into Erin's for several seconds before he looked away.

  Erin spoke to the computer. 'What do you suggest?'

  'You have sufficient resources to wake the crew and twelve colonists at thirty-five year intervals.'

  'Twelve colonists,' muttered Roth. 'What do we tell them? Sorry, guys, the rest of you are just so many warm corpses? Anyway, what happens if the first planet is a bust?'

  Erin repeated his question. There was a long silence before the computer spoke again, a silence that gave Roth his answer better than any amount of synthesised speech.

  'I am sorry, I cannot help you.'

  'Right,' said Winters. He stood up. 'We'd better start waking colonists to determine which ones suffer from memory loss.'

  Erin slumped back in her seat.

  'You can go back into your pod, if you like,' said Winters. 'You've got about thirty years before you'll need to walk the colonists around, help them recover from their memory loss. There's no need to wake Anton and me, obviously.'

  'Shut up, you prick!' Roth jumped up and faced Winters. 'Shut up or I'll shove your teeth down your throat!'

  'Don't threaten me, golden boy!' Winters stuck a finger out, holding it two inches from the younger man's nose. 'You wouldn't want me to leave you in your tank, would you? Forget to revive you, perhaps?'

  Erin strode across to the console and typed on the keyboard. She waited for the information to appear on the screen. 'Strange,' she said, as the screen remained blank. 'Computer, open the colonist database for me.'

  'Cannot comply. The database is classified.'

  'No data is classified from me. Show the database on terminal four.'

  'I cannot do that. You do not have sufficient clearance.'

  'I don't believe it!' crowed Winters. 'They've locked you out, too! How does it feel now, little miss I'm-in-charge?'

  There was a solid crack and Erin turned round just in time to see Winters go flying backwards, one hand clutching his cheek. Roth stood over him, his face red.

  'One word,' he hissed. 'One more snappy remark and I'll kill you, you weasel.'

  Anton pushed his chair back. 'This, it is helping yes?'

  Roth turned on him. 'You want some too?'

  Anton raised his hands. 'Me, I am peaceful.' He watched Winters struggle to his feet. 'Monsieur Winters, perhaps you and I should examine the colonists, yes?'

  Winters glared at Roth, but kept his distance. As Anton left, he followed without a word.

  'And don't touch anything!' shouted Roth as the door closed behind them. He glanced at Erin. 'Why did you want to look at the colonist's data?'

  'I though there might be a clue. You and I suffered memory loss, Anton and Winters didn't. Perhaps there's something in our medical background that leaves us open to the effects of cryo-sleep. If I can find out what it is, we'd only have to wake the colonists that have the same quirk.' She spread her hands. 'It's academic, anyway, because some bright spark decided I didn't need to know.'

  'That's a worry. I mean, there's nobody but us, now. Why would they seal the data?'

  'Who knows. It could be something simple, perhaps to keep us from studying individual colonists. Can you imagine Anton reading up on all the women, trying to find a mate? He might even be tempted to wake someone up.'

  Roth nodded. 'Not outside the bounds of possibilit
y, I'll grant you that. The man's got a one-track mind. I'm not sure he's that stable, either.'

  'Are any of us?'

  'Well ...' Roth was interrupted by a beep as the commset announced a call.

  'Yes?' called Erin.

  It was Anton. 'The colonist's - the area is sealed.'

  Erin cursed. 'Of course. It would be.'

  'Can you not open it from there?' Winters' voice held a challenge.

  Erin addressed the computer. 'Unseal the colonist's quarters.'

  'I'm afraid that area is off-limits until we arrive at our destination. Interaction with colonists during the voyage is prohibited.'

  The commset crackled. 'Perhaps you should say please,' said Winters drily.

  Erin pursed her lips. 'Come back up. We'll figure something out.'

  'Actually, I want to take a look at some of the equipment. I'll need Anton to give me a hand with unpacking.'

  'Any reason?'

  'I want to see what condition the tractors are in, for a start. They've been sitting here thirty years. It'll only take a moment to check their status panels.' The speakers went dead.

  'Abrupt kind of guy, isn't he?' muttered Roth. 'Remind me to set up in a different neighbourhood when we arrive.'

  'If.'

  Roth frowned. 'Listen, I'm getting hungry. You want something to eat?'

  Erin nodded.

  'What would you like?'

  'Anything hot and edible.'

  'You might have to settle for one or the other,' said Roth. 'I'll go and see what the catering is like.'

  Erin folded her arms on the table and rested her head on them. She closed her eyes and let her mind go blank.

  She woke with a start as the doors slid open and Roth came in, his face white.

  'There's no food,' he whispered.

  'What?'

  'Nothing. None of the buttons work, all the storage cupboards are empty.' He threw a plastic plate on the table. 'Half a dozen of those, two dozen plastic forks and nothing to eat!'

  Erin sat up, blinking. She turned her head and addressed the computer. 'Where is the food kept?'

  'Define food,' said the computer.

  'It's the stuff we eat,' shouted Roth. 'Nourishment.'

  'All such needs are met by the cryo-pods.'

  Erin and Roth stared at each other in shock. The commset beeped.

  'Erin?' it was Anton, his voice strained. There was a loud crash in the background.

  'Yes? What's that noise?'

  'All is not okay. The tractor - it is a ... a car wreck.'

  'A what?'