E C Tubb, page 10
It would be a sloppy job. No electronics man in his right mind would ever allow himself to be electrocuted, and George was an expert in his trade. For a moment Jay hesitated, pride of workmanship struggling against sheer necessity; then, thrusting forward the limp, right hand, he let it fall onto the wires.
The stench was awful. It was a blend of ozone and burnt blood, of charred flesh and seared metal. It was nauseating, vile and, as blue lightning tore across the widening gap between flesh and metal, Jay fought against the desire to vomit. He swallowed, desperately trying to quell his sickness, and stared at the blackened shape lying before him.
It had been human, male, had worn blue shorts and still carried a scrap of metal around the left wrist. That was all that could be told. Satisfied, Jay rose to his feet and stepped towards the door. Somewhere a fuse would have blown and meters kicked. Watchers would report a power-drop and men would be sent out to investigate. They would find a dead men and an exposed wire. They would report it to Merrill who, because of his job, would state that the entire occurrence had been an accident. The men in olive would come to collect the remains, other men would repair the damage, and the thing would be over and forgotten.
Except for Susan’s tears.
She would believe her father dead, but there could be no help for that. There could be no comfort, no whispered reassurances, no betrayal of what had really happened. George Curtway was officially dead-and Jay’s life depended on everyone believing that.
He stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind him, and strode along the passage. He felt dirty and his stomach heaved with the remembered odor of roasting meat. It seemed to be all around him, to have permeated the very pores of his skin, to cling to his hair and shorts. He wanted to strip and step into a shower, to lave his body and wash away the stench, to stare at an educational tape and cleanse his mind. He didn’t notice Susan until he bumped into her.
“Jay!” For a moment she clung to him; then, remembering their last parting, moved consciously away. “Sorry, but it was really your fault. “
“Forget it. “ He stared down at her. “Where are you going?”
“To see Dad. “ She attempted to move past him. “Please let me pass, Jay. “
“No. “ He took her arm and tried to make her walk with him. “Let’s go and watch a tape or something. I haven’t seen you for-“
“Please!” Coldly she removed his hand, her nose crinkling as if she smelled an unfamiliar scent. “You seem to have a bad memory, Jay. I haven’t. “
Numbly he watched her walk away from him down the passage towards her father’s cubicle. He wanted to stop her, to force her to come with him, to do anything to prevent her from seeing that sight. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing.
He heard her scream as he left the corridor.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
GREGSON stood and watched the machine of destiny. It was big, as it had to be to hold all the filed information, the various educational tapes, the selective master-plates, the cards, the erasers and computers. In itself it was a masterpiece of planning, constructed by the builders centuries ago to serve as a guide and a master above and beyond all limitations of human flesh. The Ship could forget its purpose, the personnel waste themselves in ambition and selfish pleasure, the race sicken and die from stupidity and greed, but Psycho would always be ready to give the information to restore the essential balance if the project of which it was a part was to succeed.
And yet it was not wholly omnipotent. It could advise but it still needed the human touch to transform its dictates into action. Looking at it, Gregson felt a quiet pride in being one of the few elect. He turned as Conway came towards him.
The psychologist carried a thin sheaf of plastic cards, rejects from the file banks, now erased and ready for further duty. He dumped them into a hopper, threw a lever, and smiled as a man who sees the completion of a job well done.
“Fascinating, isn’t it, Gregson?” Conway rested his hand on the metal casing of the machine. “Just think, inside there are the full details of every man and woman, child and newborn babe aboard the Ship. Every tiny detail, fed in fragment by fragment from Medical, Genetics, Supply, the Kitchens, the observers, all correlated and intermeshed by Psycho into a composite whole so that, at any moment, we can determine the efficiency-rating of anyone we wish. “
“Anyone?” Gregson’s expression matched the dryness of his tones. “The Captain?”
“Not the Captain, at least I don’t think so. “ Conway looked disturbed. “He can’t be, can he?”
“Not at his age he can’t. “
“Well, then, everyone except the Captain. “ Conway caressed the machine again. “The more you think about it, the more wonderful Psycho becomes. It selects and channels the educational tapes, determines the exact amount of all material aboard, maintains the temperature and humidity of the air, keeps-“
“It’s a machine, “ interrupted Gregson harshly. “Nothing more than an elaborate electronic device. Stop talking about it as though it was a god. “
“I trust Psycho, “ said Conway mechanically. He looked over his shoulder at where an assistant worked at a desk, and lowered his voice. “Control yourself, Gregson. We may be observed. “
“Quentin is no god either. “ Gregson stared at the smooth bulk of Psycho as though it were a human enemy. “He is an old man, too old. “
“He’s still the Captain. “
“There were other Captains before Quentin, “ said Greg-son deliberately, “and there will be others after him. How long must we let him live before making a change?”
“Are you insane!” Conway stepped forward, his eyes fearful as he stared around him. “If he should learn of this... “
“Why should he?” Gregson shrugged but when he spoke again it was almost a whisper. “Relax, Conway. We’re alone now and there’s no need for us to pretend to each other. Is Quentin’s card in Psycho?”
“I don’t know. He’s the only person in the Ship who doesn’t wear an identity disc. His card may be filed with the others, but how can I tell? Without his number it would be impossible to find. “
“It isn’t in there, then, “ said Gregson with quiet certainty. “The first thing any Captain with sense would do would be to remove it. Quentin is no fool, he wouldn’t be the Captain if he were, and no fool would have managed to stay alive so long. “ His eyes as he stared at Conway held a sick envy. “How old would you say he is, Conway?”
“Thirteenth generation?” The psychologist shrugged. “I don’t know. How is an old man supposed to look, Gregson? I’ve never seen one to base an estimate on. Quentin could be thirteenth or even twelfth, but I’m only guessing. “
“Say thirteenth, “ whispered Gregson. “That would make him anything between seventy-seven and fifty-eight years old. “ He licked his lips. “Twelfth? Twenty years more? Is it possible, Conway? Could a man live almost a hundred years?”
“No. “
“Are you sure?”
“No, I’m not sure, “ snapped the psychologist irritably. “How could I be? But the thing is against all logic. You heard what Malick said: a man’s usefulness ends once he has fathered the new generation, and we know that Psycho determines the life expectancy at around forty years. The builders set that figure, and the builders knew what they were doing. After forty a man’s efficiency begins to fail. Can you imagine what state a man would be in if, by some miracle, he managed to live so long? The concept is ludicrous. “
“Perhaps you’re right. “ Gregson seemed reluctant to dismiss the idea. “Put it at seventy then, or even sixty. That’s still twenty years beyond the normal expectancy. A full generation!”
“For the Captain only, “ reminded Conway. “The rest of us still wear our discs and our cards are still filed in Psycho. “
“Yes. “ Gregson stared at the humped bulk of the machine. “Of course. And at any time those cards could be sorted, rejected, expelled and sent down to me. “ He looked at Conway. “To the executioner. “
“I know it. “ Conway shuddered at an unpleasant memory. “Every time I threw the trip-lever to expel the latest batch, I wondered whether or not my card would be among them. Sometimes I couldn’t stand the strain and had to call an assistant to take over. “
“But not now. “
“No. “ Conway glanced at Gregson as a dog might lick its master’s hand. “You ended that nightmare. “
“Postponed it, “ corrected the chief of psych-police. “We still wear our discs and are still vulnerable to questions. Both of us are fourteenth generation. Neither of us is young. Others are watching us-my officers, your assistants, even the Captain. One day someone is going to ask some pertinent questions and when they do... “ He shrugged.
“You’ll take care of that, “ stammered Conway. “You took care of the other thing, didn’t you?”
“I showed you what to do and you did it. Anyone but a fool would have thought of it for himself, but, even if you had, you would still have needed me as I needed you. “
Gregson rested his hand on the machine. “Even at that we were discovered. An electronics engineer stumbled on something and requested an interview with the Captain. “
“I remember that. “ Conway looked troubled. “What’s going to happen?”
“Nothing, the man is dead. “ Gregson smiled with conscious power. “Didn’t you expel his card for me. What else could I do but order his elimination?”
“So we’re safe then. “ Conway sagged with relief. “Good. For a moment there you had me worried, Gregson, but with you controlling the police and with me in charge of Psycho, nothing can go wrong. “ He frowned. “I wish I could find out what it was that man discovered. If he found it, then others could. “
“Forget it. He’s dead and, if others ask too many questions, they will die also. “ Gregson glanced around to make sure that they weren’t overheard. “Our biggest danger is Quentin. I don’t like the way he stares at me and I’ve the feeling he’s up to something. I think that it’s time we moved in. “
“Mutiny?” Conway shook his head. “No, Gregson. I won’t stand for that. “
“Who said anything about mutiny? Quentin is old, and old men die... it happens all the time. If Quentin died, then we’d have to appoint a new Captain. The only problem we have to face is who? Not Henderley, not Folden, and certainly not Malick. The man’s almost insane as it is with his babble about tapes showing meat eating. You? How long would you last alone? No, Conway, I’m going to be the next Captain. Help me and your life is secure. Oppose me and I’ll have to arrange an ‘accident’. “
“I won’t oppose you, but I won’t help you mutiny either. “ Conway spoke with a lifetime of indoctrination against the concept of forcible overthrow of authority. “If Quentin should die, that’s different. I’ll stand by you as the new Captain. “
“Yes, “ said Gregson dryly. “After all, there’s nothing else you can do, is there? As Captain I’d be the one man in the Ship to safeguard your secret. “ He stepped away as the assistant, apparently finishing his task, rose from his desk and came towards them.
“Well, Conway, “ he said for the other’s benefit. “Give me the cards and let me get on with the eliminations. I’ve still got the Barb problem to worry about. “
“Any fresh news on that?” Conway nodded to his assistant and reached for a lever, one of many on a panel before him. “Maybe it would be as well to let them alone. If Henderley is right.”
“Henderley is a fool. He underrates the danger of starving men. He talks of cannibalism, and forgets that meat eating is unthinkable to any normal person. “ His face darkened and he leaned forward as the psychologist tripped the lever. “I wonder how many this time?”
“Can’t tell. “ Conway stepped beside him as he stared at the disposal tray. “The whole operation is automatic. Psycho is scanning the cards now for any which do not fit into the pre-selected master pattern. All unfit will be rejected. “ His voice warmed as he waited for the machine to finish its task. “It’s really wonderful you know, Gregson. It’s like building a new race on a previously determined matrix. Eliminate the unfit and save the essentials. “
“Then we must have a perfect race, “ said Gregson drily as he looked at the empty tray. “No rejects?”
“Not as many as there have been, “ admitted Conway. “I don’t understand it, but Psycho can’t be wrong. “ He smiled as two cards fell into the tray. “Two out of five thousand. Here. “ He picked up the cards, scanned them, and passed them to Gregson. “A woman, Julia Connors, sanitation, sector Four and a man, Sam Aldway, hydroponics, sector five. “
“Again?” Gregson glanced casually at the cards. “Sector five seems to be getting more than its fair share of eliminations recently. “ He shrugged. “We should worry, just so long as it isn’t us, eh?” He laughed and, after a moment, Conway and the assistant laughed with him.
The assistant was the only one not genuinely amused.
Aside from the communications man and Carter, the stand-by officer, headquarters was empty when Gregson returned. While waiting for Jay to answer his code signal he leaned back and, in the privacy of his office, surveyed his plans. Conway had been useful, might still be of some assistance, but, because of what he knew, would have to be eliminated as soon as Gregson had achieved his ambition. Malick too, the geneticist, was obviously irrational and, unless controlled, might cause later trouble. Henderley and Folden could continue on the Council for awhile, but Conway would certainly have to be disposed of.
Merrill too.
Gregson was ambitious enough to take risks, but not fool enough to be blind to the ambitions of others. Merrill was untrustworthy and a defense would have to be found against him. No man could rule longer than his companions allowed him and, with ambitious men, any rule would seem too long. Gregson sat in his chair and hooded his eyes as he thought of the Captain.
Quentin was an old, senile fool-or was he? To the young all old men are fools, for the young insist on mistaking caution for fear, cool thinking for stupidity, tolerance for weakness. Quentin was old, fantastically old, sixty at least and maybe more, and he had been Captain for as long as Gregson could remember. But did mere age automatically qualify him for stupidity? Gregson sighed as he thought about it, then sat upright as Jay entered the office.
“You sent for me?” Jay looked tired. He had managed to get a shower but still felt unclean. He doubted whether a full soaking for a good ten minutes would serve to wash away the lingering traces of the odor surrounding him.
“Yes. “ Gregson picked up the assignment card and threw it towards the officer. “Another job in your sector. The other one completed yet?”
“Yes. “ Jay stared numbly at the card and managed to control his instinctive reaction. Sam Aldway! The man he had planted to replace Curtway’s missing body. The problem, instead of being solved, had only been postponed. He still had to find and eliminate an innocent stranger and, for a moment, he had a nightmare of continual assignments, each for the man he had just killed. He became aware of Gregson’s eyes.
“Something wrong?”
“No. “ Jay returned the assignment card to the desk. “Why do you ask?”
“You looked odd. Sorry to keep you so busy but you know how these things are. They average out and you’ll probably be bored to tears during the next few months. “
“You think so?” Jay didn’t respond to the friendliness in the other’s voice.
“I’m sure of it. I remember one time when... “ Gregson broke off as the door opened and Merrill entered the office. “What do you want? Didn’t they tell you that I was engaged?”
“They did, but it can’t wait. “ Merrill smiled with secret knowledge and stared at Jay. “You’d better change. You look better in red shorts. “
“Change?” Jay felt his stomach tighten with apprehension. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“You’ll find out. “
Jay hesitated, then, at Gregson’s curt nod, reversed his black shorts and donned them red side outwards. Merrill watched him, a faint grin of triumph lurking at the corners of his mouth, then jerked his thumb towards the door.
“Outside. There’s someone out there who wants to see you. “
“Hold it a second. “ Gregson stepped from behind his desk. “I give the orders, Merrill. Now, what’s wrong?”
“Ask Jay. “
“I asked you, “ snapped Gregson impatiently. “Don’t get too big for yourself, Merrill. I suggest that you remember a conversation we had a short while ago. “
“I’m remembering. “ Merrill didn’t trouble to hide his enjoyment. “That’s what makes this so sweet. Jay’s bungled a job and managed to do it perfectly. He not only electrocuted an electronics engineer, in itself so stupid as to be incredible, but he did the job in the man’s own cubicle and before a witness. I received the official complaint even before I had viewed the body. Name, time, place-everything. “ He smiled at Jay. “You must have really been trying, “
“Shut up!” Gregson bit at his lower lip. “Did you bring the witness in quietly?”
“Quietly?” Merrill shrugged. “She was in the center of a crowd when I arrived. Her brother, who is also an electronics man, was with her and about a couple of dozen others. They all heard her name the accused and make the official complaint. Her brother swore that he’d make it his business to see that the killer was brought to justice. Get rid of the witness and you’ll have every electronics man in the Ship asking questions, let alone trouble with Genetics for disposing of a marriageable female. “
“Waste!” Gregson glared at Merrill’s smiling face. “Fetch the witness. And wipe that grin off your face too-this is a serious matter. “ He stared at Jay. “Curtway?”
“Yes. “
“Is Merrill telling the truth?”
“I don’t know, “ said Jay miserably, “I had to rush the job, that part is true, but-“
