The Seeds of Time
- Автор: Уиндем Джон Паркс Лукас Бейнон Харрис
- Язык: английский
- Год: Michael Joseph
- ISBN: 0-7181-0362-9
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «The Seeds of Time». Краткое содержание книги:
‘All set, Mr Carter?’
The Navigating Officer switched on a fuel line, and poised his right hand above a key.
‘All set, sir.’
‘Okay. Straighten her up.’
The Navigating Officer glued his attention to the pointers before him. He tapped the key beneath his fingers experimentally. Nothing happened. A slight double furrow appeared between his brows. He tapped again. Still there was no response.
‘Get on with it, man,’ said the Captain irritably. The Navigating Officer decided to try twisting her the other way. He tapped one of the keys under his left hand. This time there was response without delay. The whole ship jumped violently sideways and trembled. A crash jangled back and forth through the metal members around them like a diminishing echo.
Only the safety belt kept the Navigating Officer in his seat. He stared stupidly at the gyrating pointers before him. On the screen the stars were streaking across like a shower of fireworks. The Captain watched the display in ominous silence for a moment, then he said coldly:
‘Perhaps when you have had your fun, Mr Carter, you will kindly straighten her up.’
The navigator pulled himself together. He chose a key, and pressed it. Nothing happened. He tried another. Still the needles on the dials revolved smoothly. A slight sweat broke out on his forehead. He switched to another fuel line, and tried again.
The Captain lay back in his chair, watching the heavens stream across his screen.
‘Well?’ he demanded curtly.
‘There’s-no response, sir.’
Captain Winters unfastened his safety-belt and clacked across the floor on his magnetic soles. He jerked his head for the other to get out of his seat, and took his place. He checked the fuel line switches. He pressed a key. There was no impulse: the pointers continued to turn without a check. He tried other keys, fruitlessly. He looked up and met the navigator’s eyes. After a long moment he moved back to his own desk, and flipped a switch. A voice broke into the room:
‘-would I know? All I know is that the old can’s jusi bowling along head over elbow, and that ain’t no kind ol way to run a bloody spaceship. If you ask me ‘
‘Jevons,’ snapped the Captain.
The voice broke off abruptly.
‘Yes, sir?’ it said, in a different tone.
‘The laterals aren’t firing.’
‘No, sir,’ the voice agreed.
‘Wake up, man. I mean they won’t fire. They’ve packed up.’
‘What-all of ‘em, sir?’
‘The only ones that have responded are the port laterals -and they shouldn’t have kicked the way they did. Better send someone outside to look at ‘em. I didn’t like that kick.’
‘Very good, sir.’
The Captain flipped the communicator switch back, and pulled over the announcement mike.
‘Attention, please. You may release all safety-belts and proceed as normal. Correction of course has been postponed, You will be warned before it is resumed. That is all.’
Captain and navigator looked at one another again. then faces were grave, and their eyes troubled….
Captain Winters studied his audience. It comprized everyone aboard the Falcon. Fourteen men and one woman. Six of the men were his crew; the rest passengers. He watched them as they found themselves places in the ship’s small living-room. He would have been happier if his cargo had consisted of more freight and fewer passengers. Passengers, having nothing to occupy them, were always making mischief one way and another. Moreover, it was not a quiet, subservient type of man who recommended himself for a job as a miner, prospector, or general adventurer on Mars.
The woman could have caused a great deal of trouble aboard had she been so minded. Luckily she was diffident, self-effacing. But even though at times she was irritatingly without spirit, he thanked his luck that she had not turned out to be some incendiary blonde who would only add to his troubles.
All the same, he reminded himself, regarding her as she sat beside her husband, she could not be quite as meek as she looked. Carter must have been right when he spoke of a stiffening motive somewhere-without that she could never have started on the journey at all, and she would certainly not be coming through steadfast and uncomplaining so far.
He glanced at the woman’s husband. Queer creatures, women. Morgan was all right, but there was nothing about him, one would have said, to lead a woman on a trip like this…
He waited until they had finished shuffling around and fitting themselves in. Silence fell. He let his gaze dwell on each face in turn. His own expression was serious.
‘Mrs Morgan and gentlemen,’ he began. ‘I have called you here together because it seemed best to me that each of you should have a clear understanding of our present position.
‘It is this. Our lateral tubes have failed. They are, for reasons which we have not yet been able to ascertain, useless. In the case of the port laterals they are burnt out, and irreplaceable.
‘In case some of you do not know what that implies, I should tell you that it is upon the laterals that the navigation of the ship depends. The main drive tubes give us the initial impetus for take-off. After that they are shut off, leaving us in free fall. Any deviations from the course plotted are corrected by suitable bursts from the laterals.
‘But it is not only for steering that we use them. In landing, which is an infinitely more complex job than take-off, they are essential. We brake by reversing the ship and using the main drive to check our speed. But I think you can scarcely fail to realize that it is an operation of the greatest delicacy to keep the huge mass of such a ship as this perfectly balanced upon the thrust of her drive as she descends. It is the laterals which make such balance possible. Without them it cannot be done.’
A dead silence held the room for some seconds. Then a voice asked, drawling:
‘What you’re saying, Captain, is, the way things are, we can neither steer nor land-is that it?’
Captain Winters looked at the speaker. He was a big man. Without exerting himself, and, apparently, without intention, he seemed to possess a natural domination over the rest.
“That is exactly what I mean,’ he replied.
A tenseness came over the room. There was the sound of a quickly drawn breath here and there.
The man with the slow voice nodded, fatalistically. Someone else asked:
‘Does that mean that we might crash on Mars?’
‘No,’ said the Captain. ‘If we go on travelling as we are now, slightly off course, we shall miss Mars altogether.’
‘And so go on out to play tag with the asteroids,’ another voice suggested.
“That is what would happen if we did nothing about it. But there is a way we can stop that, if we can manage it.’
The Captain paused, aware that he had their absorbed attention. He continued:
‘You must all be well aware from the peculiar behaviour of space as seen from our ports that we are now tumbling along all as-er-head over heels. This is due to the explosion of the port laterals. It is a highly unorthodox method of travelling, but it does mean that by an impulse from our main tubes given at exactly the critical moment we should be able to alter our course approximately as we require.’
‘And how much good is that going to do us if we can’t land?’ somebody wanted to know. The Captain ignored the interruption. He continued:
‘I have been in touch by radio with both home and Mars, and have reported our state. I have also informed them that I intend to attempt the one possible course open to me. That is of using the main drive in an attempt to throw the ship into an orbit about Mars.
‘If that is successful we shall avoid two dangers-that of shooting on towards the outer parts of the system, and of crashing on Mars. I think we have a good chance of bringing it off.’