Mr. Spaceship Page 6

the door to the main deck. He stopped suddenly, staringaround him in surprise. There was nobody in sight. The ship wasdeserted.

  "Good God," he said. Realization swept over him, numbing him. He satdown on a bench, his head swimming. "Good God."

  The ship roared out into space leaving the moon and Terra fartherbehind each moment.

  And there was nothing he could do.

  * * * * *

  "So it was you who put the call through," he said at last. "It was youwho called me on the vidphone, not any hospital on Terra. It was allpart of the plan." He looked up and around him. "And Dolores isreally--"

  "Your wife is fine," the wall speaker above him said tonelessly. "Itwas a fraud. I am sorry to trick you that way, Philip, but it was allI could think of. Another day and you would have been back on Terra. Idon't want to remain in this area any longer than necessary. They havebeen so certain of finding me out in deep space that I have been ableto stay here without too much danger. But even the purloined letterwas found eventually."

  Kramer smoked his cigarette nervously. "What are you going to do?Where are we going?"

  "First, I want to talk to you. I have many things to discuss. I wasvery disappointed when you left me, along with the others. I had hopedthat you would remain." The dry voice chuckled. "Remember how we usedto talk in the old days, you and I? That was a long time ago."

  The ship was gaining speed. It plunged through space at tremendousspeed, rushing through the last of the defense zone and out beyond. Arush of nausea made Kramer bend over for a moment.

  When he straightened up the voice from the wall went on, "I'm sorry tostep it up so quickly, but we are still in danger. Another few momentsand we'll be free."

  "How about yuk ships? Aren't they out here?"

  "I've already slipped away from several of them. They're quite curiousabout me."

  "Curious?"

  "They sense that I'm different, more like their own organic mines.They don't like it. I believe they will begin to withdraw from thisarea, soon. Apparently they don't want to get involved with me.They're an odd race, Philip. I would have liked to study them closely,try to learn something about them. I'm of the opinion that they use noinert material. All their equipment and instruments are alive, in someform or other. They don't construct or build at all. The idea of_making_ is foreign to them. They utilize existing forms. Even theirships--"

  "Where are we going?" Kramer said. "I want to know where you aretaking me."

  "Frankly, I'm not certain."

  "You're not certain?"

  "I haven't worked some details out. There are a few vague spots in myprogram, still. But I think that in a short while I'll have themironed out."

  "What is your program?" Kramer said.

  "It's really very simple. But don't you want to come into the controlroom and sit? The seats are much more comfortable than that metalbench."

  Kramer went into the control room and sat down at the control board.Looking at the useless apparatus made him feel strange.

  "What's the matter?" the speaker above the board rasped.

  * * * * *

  Kramer gestured helplessly. "I'm--powerless. I can't do anything. AndI don't like it. Do you blame me?"

  "No. No, I don't blame you. But you'll get your control back, soon.Don't worry. This is only a temporary expedient, taking you off thisway. It was something I didn't contemplate. I forgot that orders wouldbe given out to shoot me on sight."

  "It was Gross' idea."

  "I don't doubt that. My conception, my plan, came to me as soon as youbegan to describe your project, that day at my house. I saw at oncethat you were wrong; you people have no understanding of the mind atall. I realized that the transfer of a human brain from an organicbody to a complex artificial space ship would not involve the loss ofthe intellectualization faculty of the mind. When a man thinks, he_is_.

  "When I realized that, I saw the possibility of an age-old dreambecoming real. I was quite elderly when I first met you, Philip. Eventhen my life-span had come pretty much to its end. I could look aheadto nothing but death, and with it the extinction of all my ideas. Ihad made no mark on the world, none at all. My students, one by one,passed from me into the world, to take up jobs in the great ResearchProject, the search for better and bigger weapons of war.

  "The world has been fighting for a long time, first with itself, thenwith the Martians, then with these beings from Proxima Centauri, whomwe know nothing about. The human society has evolved war as a culturalinstitution, like the science of astronomy, or mathematics. War is apart of our lives, a career, a respected vocation. Bright, alert youngmen and women move into it, putting their shoulders to the wheel asthey did in the time of Nebuchadnezzar. It has always been so.

  "But is it innate in mankind? I don't think so. No social custom isinnate. There were many human groups that did not go to war; theEskimos never grasped the idea at all, and the American Indians nevertook to it well.

  "But these dissenters were wiped out, and a cultural pattern wasestablished that became the standard for the whole planet. Now it hasbecome ingrained in us.

  "But if someplace along the line some other way of settling problemshad arisen and taken hold, something different than the massing of menand material to--"

  "What's your plan?" Kramer said. "I know the theory. It was part ofone of your lectures."

  "Yes, buried in a lecture on plant selection, as I recall. When youcame to me with this proposition I realized that perhaps my conceptioncould be brought to life, after all. If my theory were right that waris only a habit, not an instinct, a society built up apart from Terrawith a minimum of cultural roots might develop differently. If itfailed to absorb our outlook, if it could start out on another foot,it might not arrive at the same point to which we have come: a deadend, with nothing but greater and greater wars in sight, until nothingis left but ruin and destruction everywhere.

  "Of course, there would have to be a Watcher to guide the experiment,at first. A crisis would undoubtedly come very quickly, probably inthe second generation. Cain would arise almost at once.

  "You see, Kramer, I estimate that if I remain at rest most of thetime, on some small planet or moon, I may be able to keep functioningfor almost a hundred years. That would be time enough, sufficient tosee the direction of the new colony. After that--Well, after that itwould be up to the colony itself.

  "Which is just as well, of course. Man must take control eventually,on his own. One hundred years, and after that they will have controlof their own destiny. Perhaps I am wrong, perhaps war is more than ahabit. Perhaps it is a law of the universe, that things can onlysurvive as groups by group violence.

  "But I'm going ahead and taking the chance that it is only a habit,that I'm right, that war is something we're so accustomed to that wedon't realize it is a very unnatural thing. Now as to the place! I'mstill a little vague about that. We must find the place, still.

  "That's what we're doing now. You and I are going to inspect a fewsystems off the beaten path, planets where the trading prospects arelow enough to keep Terran ships away. I know of one planet that mightbe a good place. It was reported by the Fairchild Expedition in theiroriginal manual. We may look into that, for a start."

  The ship was silent.

  * * * * *

  Kramer sat for a time, staring down at the metal floor under him. Thefloor throbbed dully with the motion of the turbines. At last helooked up.

  "You might be right. Maybe our outlook is only a habit." Kramer got tohis feet. "But I wonder if something has occurred to you?"

  "What is that?"

  "If it's such a deeply ingrained habit, going back thousands of years,how are you going to get your colonists to make the break, leave Terraand Terran customs? How about _this_ generation, the first ones, thepeople who found the colony? I think you're right that the nextgeneration would be free of all this, if there were an--" He grinned."--An Old Man Above t
o teach them something else instead."

  Kramer looked up at the wall speaker. "How are you going to get thepeople to leave Terra and come with you, if by your own theory, thisgeneration can't be saved, it all has to start with the next?"

  The wall speaker was silent. Then it made a sound, the faint drychuckle.

  "I'm surprised at you, Philip. Settlers can be found. We won't needmany, just a few." The speaker chuckled again. "I'll acquaint you withmy solution."

  At the far end of the corridor a door slid open. There was sound, ahesitant sound. Kramer turned.

  "Dolores!"

  Dolores Kramer stood uncertainly, looking into the control room. Sheblinked in amazement. "Phil! What are you doing here? What's goingon?"

  They stared at each other.

  "What's happening?" Dolores said. "I received a vidcall that you hadbeen hurt in a lunar explosion--"

  The wall speaker rasped into life. "You see, Philip, that problem isalready solved. We don't really need so many people; even a singlecouple might do."

  Kramer nodded slowly. "I see," he murmured thickly. "Just one couple.One man and woman."

  "They might make it all right, if there were someone to watch and seethat things went as they should. There will be quite a few things Ican help you with, Philip. Quite a few. We'll get along very well, Ithink."

  Kramer grinned wryly. "You could even help us name the animals," hesaid. "I understand that's the first step."

  "I'll be glad to," the toneless, impersonal voice said. "As I recall,my part will be to bring them to you, one by one. Then you can do theactual naming."

  "I don't understand," Dolores faltered. "What does he mean, Phil?Naming animals. What kind of animals? Where are we going?"

  Kramer walked slowly over to the port and stood staring silently out,his arms folded. Beyond the ship a myriad fragments of light gleamed,countless coals glowing in the dark void. Stars, suns, systems.Endless, without number. A universe of worlds. An infinity of planets,waiting for them, gleaming and winking from the darkness.

  He turned back, away from the port. "Where are we going?" He smiled athis wife, standing nervous and frightened, her large eyes full ofalarm. "I don't know where we are going," he said. "But somehow thatdoesn't seem too important right now.... I'm beginning to see theProfessor's point, it's the result that counts."

  And for the first time in many months he put his arm around Dolores.At first she stiffened, the fright and nervousness still in her eyes.But then suddenly she relaxed against him and there were tears wettingher cheeks.

  "Phil ... do you really think we can start over again--you and I?"

  He kissed her tenderly, then passionately.

  And the spaceship shot swiftly through the endless, trackless eternityof the void....