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Authors: William C. Dietz
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process of being pulled away. Corvan couldn't see the mechanism that made this possible but assumed that it was contained within the large metal box from which the arm extended.
It was clear that the metal sheet, and the arm that went with it, were nothing more or less than a gigantic gong. No wonder the sound was so loud, no wonder it made its way through the entire ship, and no wonder people hadn't thought of it.
Corvan spoke as he pulled himself closer. "People have put forth all sorts of theories about the noise. Some claimed it was caused by a loose I-beam, swinging with motion of the ship and clanging against the hull. Others said it was some sort of pressure differential building up in the air-conditioning system then letting go. And there were more exotic explanations as well, like the one that involved a sky rigger trapped within the hull, beating on it with a wrench.
"Well, truth is stranger than fiction sometimes, and what we have here is a mechanical gong. We have no idea who placed it here or why. There's writing on the sheet metal. Maybe mat will help."
Corvan grabbed an upright, zoomed in on the writing, and read out loud.
" 'To the men and women of the Outward Bound, good luck, and Bon Voyage,' signed, 'Sky Crew 17.' Wait a minute ... I think Dr. McKeen has found something."
A large metal chest had been secured to the deck in front of the gong and the geologist had pulled herself down to it. She was fumbling with the lid and Corvan moved in closer to get a good look.
Vapor escaped as the lid came up. Dr. B reached down, grabbed something, and pulled it out. Other similar things struggled to drift free. The scientist pushed them down and closed the lid. McKeen held the object up and Corvan zoomed in. Champagne! The chest was filled with champagne!
The gong and the champagne made a great story and pushed the murder down into the middle of the end-cycle news show. It made the Earth nets too, all one hundred and sixty-three of them, and served to take the edge off Havlik's death.
The colonists, soon to be followed by the crew, would enter their suspension chambers during the next few cycles. Not an altogether pleasant experience, and one made even less so when the ship was haunted by mysterious sounds. So the champagne, and the party that surrounded it, turned what might have been a rather depressing moment into a festive occasion.
Fornos was overjoyed, Jopp was pleased, and Corvan was back in everyone's good graces.
Kim watched her husband float inside a circle of newly found admirers, sucked champagne from a bulb, and hummed Martin's symphony.
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Chapter Six
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Corvan entered F-dorm. The fetid smell lingered on but the noise and airborne garbage had all but disappeared. It was easier to keep things clean with more than ninety percent of the population out of circulation. He grabbed a hand-line and pulled himself forward.
The suspension chambers made a long slow curve to the right and left. Most were sealed, their occupants barely visible behind veils of cloudy white gas, their circulatory, respiratory, and digestive systems slowed almost to the point of death. Tubes conveyed nourishment into their bloodstreams and carried waste materials away.
Corvan activated his implant and scanned the colonists as he pulled himself along. Where they had gone he would follow.
What would it feel like? To be sealed inside a hightech coffin? To have drugs enter his bloodstream? To slowly lose consciousness? To surrender himself to the arms of a largely untried science? To become one of what the crew jokingly referred to as the corpse-sickles?
But it had to be done. Otherwise they would run out of air, food, and water long before they reached Mars, even with the recyclers, hydroponics tanks, and synthesizers running full blast. Three thousand people consume a lot of everything during a nine-month period of time, more than the ship could carry, and more than they could produce.
In
It was clear that the metal sheet, and the arm that went with it, were nothing more or less than a gigantic gong. No wonder the sound was so loud, no wonder it made its way through the entire ship, and no wonder people hadn't thought of it.
Corvan spoke as he pulled himself closer. "People have put forth all sorts of theories about the noise. Some claimed it was caused by a loose I-beam, swinging with motion of the ship and clanging against the hull. Others said it was some sort of pressure differential building up in the air-conditioning system then letting go. And there were more exotic explanations as well, like the one that involved a sky rigger trapped within the hull, beating on it with a wrench.
"Well, truth is stranger than fiction sometimes, and what we have here is a mechanical gong. We have no idea who placed it here or why. There's writing on the sheet metal. Maybe mat will help."
Corvan grabbed an upright, zoomed in on the writing, and read out loud.
" 'To the men and women of the Outward Bound, good luck, and Bon Voyage,' signed, 'Sky Crew 17.' Wait a minute ... I think Dr. McKeen has found something."
A large metal chest had been secured to the deck in front of the gong and the geologist had pulled herself down to it. She was fumbling with the lid and Corvan moved in closer to get a good look.
Vapor escaped as the lid came up. Dr. B reached down, grabbed something, and pulled it out. Other similar things struggled to drift free. The scientist pushed them down and closed the lid. McKeen held the object up and Corvan zoomed in. Champagne! The chest was filled with champagne!
The gong and the champagne made a great story and pushed the murder down into the middle of the end-cycle news show. It made the Earth nets too, all one hundred and sixty-three of them, and served to take the edge off Havlik's death.
The colonists, soon to be followed by the crew, would enter their suspension chambers during the next few cycles. Not an altogether pleasant experience, and one made even less so when the ship was haunted by mysterious sounds. So the champagne, and the party that surrounded it, turned what might have been a rather depressing moment into a festive occasion.
Fornos was overjoyed, Jopp was pleased, and Corvan was back in everyone's good graces.
Kim watched her husband float inside a circle of newly found admirers, sucked champagne from a bulb, and hummed Martin's symphony.
Â
Â
Â
Â
Chapter Six
Â
Â
Corvan entered F-dorm. The fetid smell lingered on but the noise and airborne garbage had all but disappeared. It was easier to keep things clean with more than ninety percent of the population out of circulation. He grabbed a hand-line and pulled himself forward.
The suspension chambers made a long slow curve to the right and left. Most were sealed, their occupants barely visible behind veils of cloudy white gas, their circulatory, respiratory, and digestive systems slowed almost to the point of death. Tubes conveyed nourishment into their bloodstreams and carried waste materials away.
Corvan activated his implant and scanned the colonists as he pulled himself along. Where they had gone he would follow.
What would it feel like? To be sealed inside a hightech coffin? To have drugs enter his bloodstream? To slowly lose consciousness? To surrender himself to the arms of a largely untried science? To become one of what the crew jokingly referred to as the corpse-sickles?
But it had to be done. Otherwise they would run out of air, food, and water long before they reached Mars, even with the recyclers, hydroponics tanks, and synthesizers running full blast. Three thousand people consume a lot of everything during a nine-month period of time, more than the ship could carry, and more than they could produce.
In
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