worried.
After six thousand meters I climbed up to the hub and got out of the centrifuge, took a quick sponge bath. I walked down to the game room, feeling much better, tired and strong in the no-gee.
Davydov was over in an isolated corner of the game room, sitting at a table for two, staring out the tiny port in the wall beside him. It seemed that the seasons were accelerating aboard our ship, for the room was walled in somber tones, brown and thunderhead blue and silver. I sat down beside him and we stared at the little square of stars. He got me a bulb of milk. His big dark face was lined with concern, and he didnât meet my gaze.
âEighty years isnât very long,â I observed.
âNo. It could be enough, if weâre lucky.â
âBut it isnât as much as you had hoped for.â
âNo.â His mouth was set. âNot at all.â
âWhat will you do?â
He didnât answer. He took sips from his bulb, pulled at his rough face. I had never seen such an expression of uncertainty on his face before. I thought of it. He had committed much of his long life to the idea of the starship and its voyage. Suddenly the idea was realized!âand it was not as perfect as the idea had been; thus more dangerous. And he was filled with doubts. He now saw that he could be leading people to death; I saw it in his expression. That transition, from idea to reality, had had its usual effect on himâit had clarified the possibility of failure, heightened his sense of danger, frightened him.
âYou could just take it back,â I said. âYou could fly it into an Earth orbit and tell the Terrans what youâve done and why. You could advocate a real starship. The Committee wouldnât dare attack you in Earth space.â
He was shaking his head. âThey wouldnât have to. The American and Soviet military would do it for them. Board us and take us down and ask the Committee what theyâd like done with us.â
âNot if the Committeeâs been overthrown by this revolt youâve told me about.â
âI doubt that will happen. The Committee controls too much, and they have the Earth powers behind them.â
âWell, youâve got eighty yearsâyou could play hide-and-seek in the system, radio Earth and Mars and tell them about yourselves, avoid capture until you become a cause célèbre and no one will dare harm youââ
Again he was shaking his head. âTheyâd just hunt us down. That isnât what we did all this for.â
âBut eighty years isnât long enough for interstellar flight!â
âYes, yes it isââ
âOleg,â I said. âYou canât say itâs enough just because it might be enough to get you to one of the nearest stars. Youâre going to have to search for a habitable planet, and eighty years isnât enough time for that.â
He stared out the window, took several sips from his bulb. âBut during that time,â he said, âweâll improve the life-support system. And that will give us more time.â
âI donât know how you can say that.â
âWeâve got a lot of equipment and parts with us, and one of the finest system-design teams ever assembled. If theyâre good enough, then weâll have all the time weâll need.â
I stared at him. âThatâs a big if.â
He nodded, the worried expression still on his face. âI know it is. I just have to hope that the systems team is the best one it could possibly be.â
We sat in silence for a while longer, and then Ileneâs voice called Davydov back to some business or other, and I was left to brood over the meaning of that last statement of his. It wasnât all that obscure, and I gritted my teeth as I felt the pressure mount.
Later that day, still feeling the slow progress of compression and transformation, I ate dinner with Swann. He was in an
A. J. Downey, Jeffrey Cook