2010 Odyssey Two

THE TRIAL Chapter 5: A CHILD OF THE STARS Chapter 39 In the Pod Bay
'Walter - I'm worried about Heywood.'

'I know, Tanya - but what can we do?'

Curnow had never seen Commander Orlova in so indecisive a mood; it made her seem much more appealing, despite his prejudice against small women.

'I'm very fond of him, but that's not the reason. His - I suppose gloom is the best word for it - is making everyone miserable. Leonov has been a happy ship. I want to keep it that way.'

'Why don't you talk to him? He respects you, and I'm sure he'll do his best to snap out of it.'

'I intend to do just that. And if it doesn't work -' 'Well?'

'There's one simple solution. What more can he do on this trip? When we start back for home, he'll be in hibernation anyway. We could always - what do you say, jump the gun on him.'

'Phew - the same dirty trick that Katerina played on me. He'd be mad when he woke up.'

'But also safely back on Earth, and very busy. I'm sure he'd forgive us.'

'I don't think you're serious. Even if I backed you up, Washington would raise hell. Besides, suppose something happened, and we really need him badly? Isn't there a two-week buffer period, before you can revive anyone safely?'

'At Heywood's age, more like a month. Yes, we'd be committed. But what do you think could happen now? He's done the job he was sent for - apart from keeping an eye on us. And I'm sure you've been well briefed about that in some obscure suburb of Virginia or Maryland.'

'I neither confirm nor deny. And frankly, I'm a lousy undercover agent. I talk too much, and I hate Security. I've fought all my life to keep my rating below Restricted. Every time there was danger of being reclassified Confidential or, worse still, Secret, I'd go and create a scandal. Though that's getting very difficult nowadays.'

'Walter, you're incorrupt -'

'Incorrigible?'

'Yes, that's the word I meant. But back to Heywood, please. Would you like to talk to him first?'

'You mean - give him a pep talk? I'd rather help Katerina drive in the needle. Our psychologies are too different. He thinks I'm a loudmouthed clown.'

'Which you often are. But that's only to hide your real feelings. Some of us have evolved the theory that deep down inside you is a really nice person, struggling to get out.'

For once, Curnow was at a loss for words. Finally he mumbled: 'Oh, very well - I'll do my best. But don't expect miracles; my profile gave me Z for tact. Where's he hiding at the moment?'

'In the Pod Bay. He claims he's working on his final report, but I don't believe it. He just wants to get away from us all, and that's the quietest place.'

That was not the reason, though it was indeed an important one. Unlike the carousel, where most of the action aboard Discovery was then taking place, the Pod Bay was a zero-gee environment.

Right at the beginning of the Space Age, men had discovered the euphoria of weightlessness and remembered the freedom they had lost when they left the ancient womb of the sea. Beyond gravity, some of that freedom was regained; with the loss of weight went many of the cares and worries of Earth.

Heywood Floyd had not forgotten his sorrow, but it was more bearable there. When he was able to look at the matter dispassionately, he was surprised at the strength of his reaction to an event not wholly unexpected. More than loss of love was involved, though that was the worst part. The blow had come when he was particularly vulnerable, at the very moment when he was feeling a sense of anticlimax, even futility.

And he knew precisely why. He had achieved all that he had been expected to do, thanks to the skill and cooperation of his colleagues (he was letting them down, he knew, by his present selfishness). If all went well - that litany of the Space Age! - they would return to Earth with a cargo of knowledge that no expedition had ever gathered before, and a few years later even the once-lost Discovery would be restored to her builders.

It was not enough. The overpowering enigma of Big Brother remained out there, only a few kilometres away, mocking all human aspirations and achievements. Just as its analogue on the Moon had done, a decade ago, it had come to life for a moment, then relapsed into stubborn inertness. It was a closed door upon which they had hammered in vain. Only David Bowman, it seemed, had ever found the key.

Perhaps that explained the attraction he felt for the quiet and sometimes even mysterious place. From there - from that now empty launch cradle - Bowman had left on his last mission, through the circular hatchway that led to infinity.

He found the thought exhilarating rather than depressing; certainly it helped to distract him from his personal problems. Nina's vanished twin was part of the history of space exploration; it had travelled, in the words of the hoary old cliche that always evoked a smile yet an acknowledgement of its fundamental truth, 'where no man had gone before...' Where was it now? Would he ever know?

He would sometimes sit for hours in the crowded but not cramped little capsule, trying to collect his thoughts and occasionally dictating notes; the other crew members respected his privacy, and understood the reason for it. They never came near the Pod Bay, and had no need to do so. Its refurbishment was a job for the future, and some other team.

Once or twice, when he had felt really depressed, he found himself thinking: Suppose I ordered Hal to open the Pod Bay doors, and set out along Dave Bowman's trail? Would I be greeted by the miracle he saw and which Vasili glimpsed a few weeks ago? It would solve all my problems...

Even if the thought of Chris did not deter him, there was an excellent reason why so suicidal a move was out of the question. Nina was a very complex piece of equipment; he could no more operate her than fly a fighter aircraft.

He was not meant to be an intrepid explorer: that particular fantasy would remain unrealized.

Walter Curnow had seldom undertaken a mission with more reluctance. He felt genuinely sorry for Floyd, but at the same time a little impatient with the other's distress. His own emotional life was broad but shallow; he had never put all his eggs in one basket. More than once he had been told that he spread himself too thin, and though he had never regretted it, he was beginning to think it was time to settle down.

He took the shortcut through the carousel control centre, noting that the Maximum Speed Reset Indicator was still flashing idiotically. A major part of his job was deciding when warnings could be ignored, when they could be dealt with at leisure - and when they had to be treated as real emergencies. If he paid equal attention to all the ship's cries for help, he would never get anything done.

He drifted along the narrow corridor that led to the Pod Bay, propelling himself by occasional flicks against the rungs on the tubular wall. The pressure gauge claimed that there was vacuum on the other side of the airlock door, but he knew better. It was a fail-safe situation; he could not have opened the lock if the gauge were telling the truth.

The bay looked empty, now that two of the three pods had long since gone. Only a few emergency lights were operating, and on the far wall one of Hal's fish-eye lenses was regarding him steadily. Curnow waved to it, but did not speak. At Chandra's orders, all audio inputs were still disconnected except for the one that only he used.

Floyd was sitting in the pod with his back to the open hatch, dictating some notes, and he swung slowly around at Curnow's deliberately noisy approach. For a moment the two men regarded each other in silence, then Curnow announced portentously, 'Dr H. Floyd, I bear greetings from our beloved captain. She considers it high time you rejoined the civilized world.'

Floyd gave a wan smile, then a little laugh.

'Please return my compliments. I'm sorry I've been - unsociable. I'll see you all at the next Six O'Clock Soviet.'

Curnow relaxed; his approach had worked. Privately, he considered Floyd something of a stuffed shirt, and had the practical engineer's tolerant contempt for theoretical scientists and bureaucrats. Since Floyd ranked high in both categories, he was an almost irresistible target for Curnow's sometimes peculiar sense of humour. Nevertheless, the two men had grown to respect and even admire each other.

Thankfully changing the subject, Curnow rapped on Nina's brand-new hatch cover, straight from the spares store and contrasting vividly with the rest of the space pod's shabby exterior.

'I wonder when we'll send her out again,' he said. 'And who's going to ride in her this time. Any decisions?'

'No. Washington's got cold feet. Moscow says let's take a chance. And Tanya wants to wait.'

'What do you think?'

'I agree with Tanya. We shouldn't interfere with Zagadka until we're ready to leave. If anything goes wrong then, that should improve the odds slightly.'

Curnow looked thoughtful, and unusually hesitant,

'What is it?' asked Floyd, sensing his change of mood.

'Don't ever give me away, but Max was thinking of a little one-man expedition.'

'I can't believe he was serious. He wouldn't dare - Tanya would have him clapped in irons.'

'That's what I told him, more or less.'

'I'm disappointed: I thought he was a little more mature. After all, he is thirty-two!'

'Thirty-one. Anyway, I talked him out of it. I reminded him that this was real life, not some stupid videodrama where the hero sneaks out into space without telling his companions and makes the Big Discovery.'

Now it was Floyd's turn to feel a little uncomfortable. After all, he had been thinking on similar lines.

'Are you sure he won't try anything?'

'Two-hundred-per-cent sure. Remember your precautions with Hal? I've already taken steps with Nina. Nobody flies her without my permission.'

'I still can't believe it. Are you sure Max wasn't pulling your leg?'

'His sense of humour isn't that subtle. Besides, be was pretty miserable at the time.'

'Oh - now I understand. It must have been when he had that row with Zenia. I suppose he wanted to impress her. Anyway, they seem to have got over it.'

'I'm afraid so,' Curnow answered wryly. Floyd could not help smiling; Curnow noticed it, and started to chuckle, which made Floyd laugh, which...

It was a splendid example of positive feedback in a high-gain loop. Within seconds, they were both laughing uncontrollably.

The crisis was over. What was more, they had taken the first step toward genuine friendship.

They had exchanged vulnerabilities.