Oh, now what?'
She pushed the 'Receive' contact and Merry Blankowitz's young face appeared trimensionally in the transmitter.
'Captain,' she said hesitantly. 'We're having a discussion out here and I wonder if we can consult you.'
'Is something wrong with the flight?'
'No, Captain. It's just a discussion over strategy.'
'I see. Well, you needn't file in here. I'll come out to the engine room.'
Wendel blanked out the face.
Fisher muttered, 'Blankowitz doesn't usually sound that serious. What's bugging them, do you suppose?'
'I'm not going to speculate. I'll go out there and find out.' And she motioned Fisher to follow.
77
There were the three of them, sitting in the engine room, all of them with seats carefully on the floor, despite the fact that they were under zero-gravity at the moment. They might just as well have been sitting each on a different wall, but that would have detracted from the seriousness of the situation, and it would have shown disrespect for the office of Captain, besides. There was a complex system of etiquette that had long been developed for zero-gravity.
Wendel did not like zero-gravity and if she had wanted to push her Captain's privileges, she could have insisted on the ship being in rotation at all times to produce a centrifugal effect that would have produced some feeling of gravity. She knew perfectly well that computing a flight path was easier when the ship was at rest, both translationally and rotationally, with respect to the Universe as a whole, but calculating it under constant rotational velocity didn't raise the difficulty to too high a level.
Nevertheless, to insist on such motion would have been disrespectful to the person at the computer. Etiquette again.
Tessa Wendel took her seat, and Crile Fisher could not help but notice (with a secret, ingrown smile) that she lurched slightly. For all her Settlement background, she had clearly never gotten her space legs. He himself (and there was another secret smile - of satisfaction, this time), for all that he was an Earthrnan, could move about in zero-gravity as though he were born to it.
Chao-Li Wu took a deep breath. He had a broad face - the type that looked like it belonged with a short body, but he was taller than average, when he stood up. His hair was dark and perfectly straight and his eyes were markedly narrow.
He said softly, 'Captain.'
Wendel said, 'What is it, Chao-Li? If you tell me some problem has developed in the programming, I may be tempted to choke you.'
'No problem, Captain. No problem at all. In fact, there is such an absence of problems that it strikes me that we're through and should go back to Earth. I would like to suggest that.'
'Back to Earth?' Wendel had paused before she said that, had taken the time to look a little stupefied. 'Why? We haven't accomplished our task yet.'
'I think we have, Captain,' said Wu, his face growing expressionless. 'We just didn't know what our task was, to begin with. We have worked out a practical system of superluminal flight, and we didn't have that when we left Earth.'
'I know that, but what of it?'
'And we don't have any means of communication with Earth. If we go on now to the Neighbor Star and if something happens to us, if something goes wrong, Earth will not have practical superluminal flight and there is no telling when they will. This could have a serious affect on Earth's evacuation as the Neighbor Star approaches. I feel that it is important that we go back and explain what we've learned.'
Wendel had listened gravely. 'I see. And you, Jarlow, what are your views on this?'
Henry Jarlow was tall and blond and dour. There was a settled melancholy on his face that gave a totally wrong impression of his character, and his long fingers (which had nothing apparently delicate about them) were magic when they worked with the interior of computers or with almost any instrument on board.
He said, 'I think Wu makes sense, frankly. If we had superluminal communication, we'd get the information back to Earth that way and go on. What would happen to us after that would be of no importance except to us. As it is, we can't sit on the gravitational correction.'
'And you, Blankowitz?' asked Wendel quietly.
Merry Blankowitz stirred uneasily. She was a small young woman and her long dark hair was cut straight across, just over her eyebrows. Between that and the delicacy of her bone structure and her quick, nervous movements, she looked like a