The Black Hole Page 5

  Fortunately, his creators and designers had foreseen the possibility of such confusion arising in his electronic mind and had counterprogrammed a restraining, pacifying feature into all such mechanicals: humor.

  Holland and Pizer were unaware of Vincent's private musings as they struggled to stabilize the ship. But they were very much aware of Vincent.

  "Give me a check on his progress, Charlie."

  Pizer moved to comply, leaving part of his attention on the still vacillating readouts before him. "Vincent, do you read? This is Charlie, Vincent."

  A loud sizzle like a thousand tons of bacon frying hissed back at him from the speaker. He tried again. "Vincent, do you read? What's it like out there?" Again the sound of the vast cosmic cookpot.

  He looked across at Holland, shook his head. "No response. You heard what we're getting."

  "I don't like it." Pizer started to comment, but Holland cut him off. "Yes, I know I've been saying that a lot lately. Take it easy on me, will you? He may be encountering more difficulty than I thought he would." He hesitated, then after a moment's consideration, said, "I hate to bother Kate. It's a strain for her and she's busy enough as it is." Pizer said nothing.

  Holland finally addressed the com pickup. "Kate?"

  She flashed a last burst with the sealer, set it aside and moved within easy reception range of the com unit. "I'm here, Dan."

  "How are you coming on those lines?"

  "Getting there. It's easy to work the sealer, but hard to be neat about it. I remember the diagrams pretty well, though, and records are helping me make sure I'm emplacing the new modules properly."

  "You'd better, or we'll find ourselves breathing hydrogen instead of air," he teased. Then he continued more seriously. "I don't like to trouble you with this, Kate, but we either have a transmission problem or Vincent's receiver is out. In any case, we can't contact him. See if you can esplink with him. I need to know how he's doing."

  "I understand, Dan." She sat down in her chair, forced herself to relax. "I'll give him a call."

  "Appreciate it."

  Kate closed her eyes. Not that it was necessary to the process, but doing so helped her concentrate by eliminating sources of possible distraction. She did not need her eyes to "see" Vincent, any more than he needed his electronic optics to see back at her.

  That's what the experts had told her. They had explained everything in detail when they had inquired if she wished to undergo the operation. That had been ten years ago. Though, in fact, she had feared the operation, she had covered her instinctive reaction so professionally, with such naturalness and so convincingly, that no one had thought to test her for truthfulness. The decision had to be a voluntary one. Her intelligence and ability had qualified her without subsidiary tests. So had her psych profile.

  She had known that a scientist able to engage esplink with a correspondingly equipped mechanical had a tremendous advantage over colleagues in wangling important and interesting assignments. Like thousands of others, she had wanted to be selected for deep-space research. In the highly competitive academic free-for-all that surrounded such applications, every advantage one had over one's colleagues was important. Esplink ability could be critical. It was such a powerful plus, because not every operation resulted in the ability to link. Also, not every volunteer came out from under the operation—or sometimes one would emerge into consciousness with parts of his mental self badly confused. Sometimes permanently confused.

  Kate McCrae's operation had been one of those that proved completely successful. She well remembered her first and last sight of the esplink itself, a tiny metal cylinder half the size of the nail on her little finger. It was buried inside her skull now, always ready and able to translate her properly conceived thoughts to a receptive machine unit and to receive impulses in turn from units equipped to broadcast. Sometimes getting it right was more of a strain than anyone imagined, including Holland. But the particular rapport Kate had acquired with mechanicals such as Vincent made the risk and strain worthwhile.

  Now she adjusted her thoughts as she had been trained to do, letting them flow outward. It pleased her to regard the process as something wonderfully magical rather than as the simple transference of wave structures from one point in space to another.

  An alarmingly long time . . . several seconds . . . passed before the robot eventually responded.

  "I'm sorry, Dr. Kate. I was occupied."

  "You mean preoccupied," she thought back at him.

  "No . . . occupied. I am never preoccupied. No one can technically be preoccupied, as that implies pre—"

  "Not now, Vincent. Save the philosophical homilies for later. You're okay?"

  "I am still attached to the ship and functioning as intended, if that's what you mean."

  "You know it is, you disreputable hunk of scrap."

  "Now, Doctor . . . no flattery when I'm working. You will distract me."

  "Unlikely. Where are you?"

  A brief pause, then, "Nearly over bay four. I should be able to see the hatch cover soon."

  "Good." She fought to adjust her brain to create audible words, spoke dreamily toward the com pickup. "Dan, I've made contact with Vincent."

  "Fine. He's all right out there?"

  "Yes, and nearly in sight of the hatch, he says."

  "Keep us posted."

  She turned her thoughts back inward. "Any trouble?"

  "Electromagnetic effects like I've never experienced. And hope never to experience again. Makes my skin crawl."

  McCrae smiled, eyes still peacefully shut. Vincent could sound so human when he wanted to that she had to remind herself he was a machine, an artificial construct of printed circuits and cold alloy, much like the Palomino.

  "I am in sight of the hatch now," he told her, the voice echoing inside her head. "Over the hatch opening now." She waited, knowing he was inspecting the damage. His analysis was typically succinct

  "The concussion apparently caused the emergency explosive bolts securing the hatch to misfire. Fortunately, only the bolts on the normally latched side fired, or I'd have no hatch here to fix. I will make temporary repairs by welding it shut."

  "Good enough."

  She relaxed further, found herself thinking about Dan as Vincent worked, about his reaction to her whenever the esplink was brought up. He knows it's there permanently, inside me. Does he secretly regard me as some kind of mutated freak, part human, part machine? She knew some people reacted that way to those equipped with the links, and wondered if that was why Dan was always so kind and gentle with her. Or was it something more, as she had often hoped? Of course, he had never given any definite indication that he regarded the presence of the link as anything abnormal. But that didn't mean that . . .

  Vincent was thinking at her again. "I've inserted vacuum seal around the edges of the hatch and repositioned the cover. Am now activating my sealer."

  She could almost see the robot, visualized the barrel-shaped form secured by line and magnetic lower limbs to the Palomino's hull. One arm would be traveling with great precision over the edge of the hatch, a beam of intense red light emerging from its tip. The vacuum seal would turn molten under the heat of that beam, as would the metal of the hull beneath it. The result, when it cooled, would be a crystalline structure not quite metal, not quite ceramic. It could not be cut away except with the facilities of a zero-g shipyard.

  Hatch four would be useless for the remainder of their journey, but the precious pharmaceuticals stored inside would be in no danger of drifting or being thrown out. Later, the bay could be repressurized and entered safely. The seal Vincent was executing would be as airtight as the rest of the hull.

  A voice, shatteringly loud and crude, interrupted her musing. "Kate? How's he coming? You still with him?"

  "I'll check, Dan. Right now he's quoting a flight instructor he once knew. 'There are old pilots and there are bold pilots, but there are very few old, bold pilots.' "

  "She's tuned in on Vincent,
all right," Pizer murmured.

  "Let's hope we disprove that maxim. Just a few degrees more, Charlie."

  "Vincent, how are you coming," McCrae asked silently.

  A gratified mechanical responded. "Finishing the last of it, Dr. Kate."

  "Dan . . . he's secured the hatch."

  "Good. Let me know when he's back inside." Holland turned his attention to his first officer. "Charlie, we're holding our own here, but that's not good enough. She's threatening to destabilize and send us tumbling again. We've got to get her around. Maximum power on"—he checked a brace of gauges—"Quad Thrusters E and H, half thrust on A and G."

  "Working," replied Pizer, carefully making the requisite adjustments. The ship responded.

  Holland switched a second speaker on as the communicator buzzed for attention. He remained in communication with the lab and Kate, added the new call from Power.

  "That you, Alex?"

  "Check, Dan." Durant's voice was strained. "We can only effect temporary repairs back here, and that only to the secondaries. It's a mess. Maybe you and Charlie will get a chance to come back here and refine what Harry and I have done."

  "I doubt we could do much more, Alex. I just pilot 'em, I don't build 'em."

  "That's what we need back here, Dan. A construction engineer. With a full internal-plumbing shop. I'm afraid that we'll eventually lose our air supply unless we can replace the critically damaged modules in the main regenerator complex."

  "Damn. You're sure of that?"

  "You ought to see what's left of the regenerator's internals and monitors. Looks like a particle beam played through them. You know you can't 'fix' any of those microchip links. All you can do is replace them.

  "We can seal over and set the larger components back in place, but you know better than I that it'll all be for nothing unless the rest are replaced. And we don't carry any of the necessary replacements."

  Holland thought a moment. "How about cannibalizing the necessary chips from the secondaries?"

  "Maybe," was Durant's reply, "but I doubt it."

  "Why?"

  "Because some of the chips in the secondaries are so weakened from overload they could shatter if we try fooling with their ambient temperatures or voltages. Then we'd lose the secondaries in addition to the main system. But I agree it may come to trying that."

  "Let's hope not, Alex. Let me know when you and Harry have finished. Maybe I can come back and have a look."

  "Will do."

  Holland switched off, knowing the futility of making a personal inspection of the damage. He had added his final comment to placate Durant. If the scientist couldn't fix the system, it was because the parts were not available, as he had said. If they didn't have replacements, the finest respiratory-system technician on Earth couldn't do any better.

  Vincent shut off the flow of sealant. A moment later he shut off power to his arm and examined his handiwork. The seal was clean, flush to the hull, and appeared tight. No one could tell for certain about the last until bay four could be repressurized and tested for air leaks, but he was confident his work would stand that test. He turned his optics away from the hatch preparatory to starting back toward the lock he had used to leave the ship, and his confidence was lessened by the sight that greeted him. Neatly severed by age and the wear and tear it had received against the rim of the lock, his cable tether drifted lazily past him.

  Calmly he reported the break to McCrae. Her first reaction was concern. "Are you still secured to the ship, Vincent?" She knew as well as Holland that if the robot had somehow slipped free of the hull, he was lost.

  "Still secure . . . and awaiting instructions, Dr. Kate."

  She spoke hurriedly into the pickup. "Dan, it's Vincent. He's finished sealing the hatch, but his cable tether's parted. He's okay for now, but without the tether he has no backup if he loses physical contact with the hull. His thrusters may not be enough to get him back. He wants to know how you want him to proceed."

  Pizer was already half out of his chair. "Someone has to take him another secured line so he can get back safely. I'll go after him."

  Holland threw him a sharp look. "Stay put, Charlie. You've plenty to do right here."

  The first officer looked askance at Holland. "You don't mean that, Dan. What if it were one of us out there?"

  "Vincent is one of us. As to the other, I wouldn't let you go no matter who it was. Stay at your post."

  "What if it were Kate?"

  Holland didn't change his expression. "The same. She knows that. You ought to." He spoke into the com. "We can't risk anyone else out there now, Kate. Not till we regain full control. Tell Vincent to hang on, to stay at his present location until further notice. I don't want him moving around untethered until we've stabilized our attitude. Too much chance he'll be jarred loose."

  McCrae relayed the information to the waiting robot.

  "I concur," came the prompt reply, "I don't like sitting out here, but the captain is right. I believe—"

  Transmission stopped. McCrae strained frantically, sweat beading her forehead from the effort of projecting. She knew Vincent's human-analog programming did not include breaking off a conversation in the middle of a sentence without some kind of explanation.

  "Vincent. Vincent! Report!"

  A slight but unexpected jolt had produced exactly the result Holland had feared, despite Vincent's dutifully remaining in one place. Flailing metal arms groped for protrusions, missed as the robot began to drift away from the ship, back toward the stern and the distant bottom of the gravity well.

  Vincent decided not to chance his thrusters unless forced to. There were other methods of remaining in contact with the Palomino. The cable he fired from his body had been designed to enable him to pull objects through free space toward him. Now he utilized it to pull himself back to the ship. As he was reeling himself in, he was able to respond positively to McCrae's urgent call. "I am all right, Dr. Kate. I momentarily lost my grip. But I am secured again. I will be more conscious now of the forces operating on my body here. I now have physical as well as magnetic adhesion. Please do not worry."

  "Kate?"

  She heard the dim voice, took a breath and replied. "It's okay now, Dan. Vincent slipped away for a moment, but he's reattached himself. He says he's more secure now than he was before, and that he'll be more careful."

  She gave a brief description of what had happened, relaying the robot's own words.

  Pizer listened, then moved as if to leave his chair again.

  "Stay at your post, Charlie."

  "What the hell are you made of? He's still stuck out there. Next time he might not be able to get back."

  Holland chose to ignore the question and the challenge behind it. Pizer was operating, like the rest of them, like the ship, under abnormal pressure. As captain, Holland was not permitted the psychological release of insubordination. He would not reprimand Charlie for making use of it, but wished only that he, too, had some higher authority to yell at.

  Instead of snapping back at his first officer, Holland kept himself under control and spoke quietly toward the pickup. "Kate, tell Vincent we're starting to make some progress. We're backtracking to that zero-g bubble surrounding the Cygnus. Once we're inside the field again, he can hop and skip back to the lock."

  She nodded, though there was no one to see her. The information was relayed to the robot. As she was finishing, Durant and Booth returned to the lab. Both men were mentally flayed, the close mechanical repair work having proved itself as debilitating as any heavy physical labor. They were concentrated out. Neither disturbed McCrae by listing his accomplishments. Durant waited until the wrinkles above her eyes had smoothed out and some of the tenseness had visibly left her body before asking what the esplink conversation had involved.

  "Looks like Dan's instincts were right," she told them. "We've had trouble."

  "What's wrong, Kate?" Booth asked-quickly. "Problems with the hatch repair?"

  "Not exactly," she
murmured. Her eyes were still closed. "It's Vincent. His tether broke. We almost lost him." Now she did blink, stared wide-eyed at them, stretching the muscles around each orb. "He's okay now. What about the regenerator?"

  Durant shrugged. "Did the best we could with what we had. But there were still a few items we couldn't find replacements for." He smiled wanly. "Just enough of them to cause the entire system to fail before we can get home . . . unless Dan and Charlie can do better, or can find a way to bypass what we haven't got."

  Suddenly he turned quiet, looked around in confusion. So did Booth. So did McCrae. Something had happened. There was something missing.

  They all realized what had happened at the same time. The turbulence, the jostling of the ship, had vanished.

  The ship was as still as the inside of a coffin . . .

  Pizer leaned back in his chair. His muscles ached as if he had just finished a half day's workout in the Palomino's compact gymnasium, though he hadn't moved from his position in all the time they had been playing dice with death.

  "Close," he murmured. "Too close. I want to be buried . . . but not yet."

  As if trying to cover his embarrassment at his outburst over Vincent, he spoke reassuringly to Holland. "Don't blame yourself, Dan. First we stumble into an impossible area of no-gravity around the Cygnus. Then we find out it's irregular in outline and uncertain in effect. You can't blame yourself for not foreseeing the instability of an impossibility."

  "Put that way, it makes me feel a little better," the captain admitted.

  "And, Dan?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I apologize for the way I acted, for what I said. You know."

  "Skip it. That close to a collapsar, everything's stability is a little twisted. Mine, too." He turned, spoke toward the com pickup.

  "Kate, we're going to set down on the Cygnus, How's Vincent doing?"

  Her voice came back to him a moment later. "Still with us and looking for a place to dock. I told him we're going in. He requests permission to remain where he is, for purposes of examination."