Read Online Before They Were Giants by James L. Sutter - Free Book Online
Authors: James L. Sutter
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settlement.”
“Suppose I have enough oxygen to just finish the satellite, but if I do, I won’t have enough to fly home. Will you warn me then?”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“Go to hell.”
“Dr. Arnoldsson said he could put you under,” Jason continued unemotionally, “but he thinks you might freeze once your conscious mind went asleep.”
“You’ve figured out all the details,” Tom muttered. “All I have to do is put your damned satellite together without freezing to death and then fly 22,300 miles back home before my air runs out. Simple.”
He glanced at the sun, still glaring bright even through his tinted visor. It was nearly on the edge of the Earth-disk.
“All right,” Tom said, “I’m going into the ship now for some pills; it’s nearly sunset.”
~ * ~
Cold. Dark and so cold that numbers lost their meaning. Paralyzing cold, seeping in through the suit while you worked. Crawling up your limbs until you could hardly move. The whole universe hung up in the sky and looked down on the small cold figure of a man struggling blindly with machinery he could not understand.
Dark. Dark and cold.
Ruth stayed on the radio as long as Jason would allow her, talking to Tom, keeping the link with life and warmth. But finally Jason took over, and the radio went silent.
So don’t talk, Tom growled silently, I can keep warm just by hating you, Jason.
He worked through the frigid night, struggling ant-like with huge pieces of equipment. Slowly he assembled the big parabolic mirror, the sighting mechanism and the atomic convertor. With dreamy motions he started connecting the intricate wiring systems.
And all the while he raged at himself: Why? Why did it have to be this way? Why me? Why did I agree to do this? I knew I’d never live through it; why did I do it?
He retraced the days of his life: the preparations for the flight, the arguments with Jason over exploring the cities, his trek from Chicago to the settlement, the aimless years after the radiation death of his two boys and Marjorie, his wife.
Marjorie and the boys, lying sick month after month, dying one after the other in a cancerous agony while he stood by helplessly in the ruins of what had been their home.
No! His mind warned him. Don’t think of that. Not that. Think of Jason, Jason who prevents you from doing the one thing you want, who is taking your life from you; Jason, the peerless leader; Jason, who’s afraid of the cities. Why? Why is he afraid of the cities? That’s the hub of everything down there. Why does Jason fear the cities?
~ * ~
It wasn’t until he finished connecting the satellite’s last unit—the sighting mechanism—that Tom realized the answer.
One answer. And everything fell into place.
Everything. . . except what Tom Morris was going to do about it.
Tom squinted through the twin telescopes of the sighting mechanism again, then pushed away and floated free, staring at the Earth bathed in pale moonlight.
What do I do now? For an instant he was close to panic, but he forced it down. Think, he said to himself. You’re supposed to be a Homo Sapiens . . . use that brain. Think!
The long night ended. The sun swung around from behind the bulk of Earth. Tom looked at it as he felt its warmth penetrating the insulated suit, and he knew it was the last time he would see the sun. He felt no more anger— even his hatred of Jason was drained out of him now. In its place was a sense of—finality.
He spoke into this helmet mike. “Jason.”
“He is in conference with the astronomers.” Dr. Arnoldsson’s voice.
“Get him for me, please.”
A few minutes of silence, broken only by the star-whisperings in the earphones.
Jason’s voice was carefully modulated. “Tom, you made it.”
“I made it. And the satellite’s finished.”
“It’s finished? Good. Now, what we have to do . .
“Suppose I have enough oxygen to just finish the satellite, but if I do, I won’t have enough to fly home. Will you warn me then?”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“Go to hell.”
“Dr. Arnoldsson said he could put you under,” Jason continued unemotionally, “but he thinks you might freeze once your conscious mind went asleep.”
“You’ve figured out all the details,” Tom muttered. “All I have to do is put your damned satellite together without freezing to death and then fly 22,300 miles back home before my air runs out. Simple.”
He glanced at the sun, still glaring bright even through his tinted visor. It was nearly on the edge of the Earth-disk.
“All right,” Tom said, “I’m going into the ship now for some pills; it’s nearly sunset.”
~ * ~
Cold. Dark and so cold that numbers lost their meaning. Paralyzing cold, seeping in through the suit while you worked. Crawling up your limbs until you could hardly move. The whole universe hung up in the sky and looked down on the small cold figure of a man struggling blindly with machinery he could not understand.
Dark. Dark and cold.
Ruth stayed on the radio as long as Jason would allow her, talking to Tom, keeping the link with life and warmth. But finally Jason took over, and the radio went silent.
So don’t talk, Tom growled silently, I can keep warm just by hating you, Jason.
He worked through the frigid night, struggling ant-like with huge pieces of equipment. Slowly he assembled the big parabolic mirror, the sighting mechanism and the atomic convertor. With dreamy motions he started connecting the intricate wiring systems.
And all the while he raged at himself: Why? Why did it have to be this way? Why me? Why did I agree to do this? I knew I’d never live through it; why did I do it?
He retraced the days of his life: the preparations for the flight, the arguments with Jason over exploring the cities, his trek from Chicago to the settlement, the aimless years after the radiation death of his two boys and Marjorie, his wife.
Marjorie and the boys, lying sick month after month, dying one after the other in a cancerous agony while he stood by helplessly in the ruins of what had been their home.
No! His mind warned him. Don’t think of that. Not that. Think of Jason, Jason who prevents you from doing the one thing you want, who is taking your life from you; Jason, the peerless leader; Jason, who’s afraid of the cities. Why? Why is he afraid of the cities? That’s the hub of everything down there. Why does Jason fear the cities?
~ * ~
It wasn’t until he finished connecting the satellite’s last unit—the sighting mechanism—that Tom realized the answer.
One answer. And everything fell into place.
Everything. . . except what Tom Morris was going to do about it.
Tom squinted through the twin telescopes of the sighting mechanism again, then pushed away and floated free, staring at the Earth bathed in pale moonlight.
What do I do now? For an instant he was close to panic, but he forced it down. Think, he said to himself. You’re supposed to be a Homo Sapiens . . . use that brain. Think!
The long night ended. The sun swung around from behind the bulk of Earth. Tom looked at it as he felt its warmth penetrating the insulated suit, and he knew it was the last time he would see the sun. He felt no more anger— even his hatred of Jason was drained out of him now. In its place was a sense of—finality.
He spoke into this helmet mike. “Jason.”
“He is in conference with the astronomers.” Dr. Arnoldsson’s voice.
“Get him for me, please.”
A few minutes of silence, broken only by the star-whisperings in the earphones.
Jason’s voice was carefully modulated. “Tom, you made it.”
“I made it. And the satellite’s finished.”
“It’s finished? Good. Now, what we have to do . .
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