Free Dark Star by Alan Dean Foster Page A

crescendo, one trill piling atop another as he kept treading the bass pedals. His toes dug into and became one with the smooth, well-waxed pedals as he slid down the front of the taut, smooth, vinyl-suited tossed crescendo which died slowly behind him . . .
    He blinked.
    The music was done. The ride was over. He was reborn, refreshed, cleansed, and whole again. One with the universe.
    He hesitated, struck one awkwardly placed key. Somewhere within the flimsy maze a mallet or screw driver moved to strike a jar partly filled with water. It made a dull, only vaguely musical sound.
    He smiled to himself. Before the others he never smiled, but he could smile at himself here. It didn't matter that the organ played notes other from those he heard. He'd played the right board all along—the carefully waxed, hand-rubbed, delicately manipulated board, and the sounds had been real to him. He stood, surveyed the organ with pleasure.
    A little of the water had evaporated. That was all. Just a little of the water.
    He left the room.
    Why couldn't the others understand? Pinback and Boiler, and even Powell. Even Powell had never understood what he saw in that "collection of splinters and junk" he persisted in calling an organ.
    So the knowledge was Doolittle's and Doolittle's alone. That made him feel a little better, a little wiser than the others. But what about Talby? He frowned. No, Talby didn't understand the lieutenant's organ, either. His secret was safe.
    Where was Talby's head right now, in fact? Doolittle checked his watch. Probably up in the dome, as usual. Doolittle turned on his heel, heading abruptly toward the food-preparation room instead of returning to their converted living quarters.
    Once there, he dialed a major breakfast. Not for himself. For Talby. He would take it up to the astronomer, up to Talby in his serene contemplation of the heavens, and try to share his organ-ideas with him. Of all the crew, the astronomer might be able to understand.
    There was a short pause, then nothing. The meals computer seemed reluctant to discharge a single breakfast at this hour. Doolittle pushed the activate-request switch repeatedly, until the machine finally coughed up the meal he had ordered. Then he headed for the observation dome access corridor.
    He hesitated on his way up. Talby might not like being disturbed. Doolittle thought about aborting this little expedition, but firmed himself. Talby might not like company, but even he had to eat.
    Putting his head through the open hatch, be called softly, "Talby?"
    There was a buzzing sound, and the chair spun around fast. Then Talby was staring down at him, his expression neutral.
    "Here's some breakfast." He handed the slim metal package up to the astronomer. Talby took it, said nothing, but there was another buzz and the astronomer's cocoonlike chair slid back, making room for Doolittle in the confined space of the dome. It was Talby's way of welcoming him.
    There was a little raised wedge on the far side of the hatch and Doolittle squeezed himself onto it, his feet framing either side of the opening. Like an upside-down well, light poured into the dome from the corridor below, lighting both faces from beneath. It gave Doolittle an uncharacteristically saturnine cast, while Talby, seated farther away, appeared wreathed in bloody shadows.
    The lieutenant looked cautiously out through the dome. The universe wheeled around them. No, no, that was a phrase from a book. And it didn't apply. The universe was motionless, still, with a solemnity far more impressive than any slow motion.
    They were moving, but even at their supreme speed the galaxy was too vast for any movement to be seen by the naked eye. Hyperspace was different, a comforting blur. You couldn't fear what you couldn't delineate.
    But up here, with everything laid out sharp and uncompromising . . . Doolittle did not like coming up into the dome for too long. For a little while it was impressive, but after too long it began to