Starman's Quest Read online

  _Chapter One_

  The sound of the morning alarm rang out, four loud hard cleargong-clangs, and all over the great starship _Valhalla_ the men of theCrew rolled out of their bunks to begin another day. The great ship hadtravelled silently through the endless night of space while they slept,bringing them closer and closer to the mother world, Earth. The_Valhalla_ was on the return leg of a journey to Alpha Centauri.

  But one man aboard the starship had not waited for the morning alarm.For Alan Donnell the day had begun several hours before. Restless,unable to sleep, he had quietly slipped from his cabin in the foresection, where the unmarried Crewmen lived, and had headed forward tothe main viewscreen, in order to stare at the green planet growingsteadily larger just ahead.

  He stood with his arms folded, a tall red-headed figure, long-legged, alittle on the thin side. Today was his seventeenth birthday.

  Alan adjusted the fine controls on the viewscreen and brought Earthinto sharper focus. He tried to pick out the continents on the planetbelow, struggling to remember his old history lessons. Tutor Henrichwould not be proud of him, he thought.

  _That's South America down there_, he decided, after rejecting thenotion that it might be Africa. They had pretty much the same shape, andit was so hard to remember what Earth's continents looked like whenthere were so many other worlds. _But that's South America. And sothat's North America just above it. The place where I was born._

  Then the 0800 alarm went off, the four commanding gongs that Alan alwaysheard as _It's! Time! Wake! Up!_ The starship began to stir into life.As Alan drew out his Tally and prepared to click off the start of a newday, he felt a strong hand firmly grasp his shoulder.

  "Morning, son."

  Alan turned from the viewscreen. He saw the tall, gaunt figure of hisfather standing behind him. His father--and the _Valhalla's_ captain.

  "Good rising, Captain."

  Captain Donnell eyed him curiously. "You've been up a while, Alan. I cantell. Is there something wrong?"

  "Just not sleepy, that's all," Alan said.

  "You look troubled about something."

  "No, Dad--I'm not," he lied. To cover his confusion he turned hisattention to the little plastic gadget he held in his hand--the Tally.He punched the stud; the register whirred and came to life.

  He watched as the reading changed. The black-on-yellow dials slidforward from _Year 16 Day 365_ to _Year 17 Day 1_.

  As the numbers dropped into place his father said, "It's your birthday,is it? Let it be a happy one!"

  "Thanks, Dad. You know, it'll feel fine to have a birthday on Earth!"

  The Captain nodded. "It's always good to come home, even if we'll haveto leave again soon. And this will be the first time you've celebratedyour birthday on your native world in--three hundred years, Alan."

  Grinning, Alan thought, _Three hundred? No, not really._ Out loud hesaid, "You know that's not right, Dad. Not three hundred years. Justseventeen." He looked out at the slowly-spinning green globe of Earth.

  "When on Earth, do as the Earthers do," the Captain said. "That's an oldproverb of that planet out there. The main vault of the computer filessays you were born in 3576, unless I forget. And if you ask any Eartherwhat year this is he'll tell you it's 3876. 3576-3876--that's threehundred years, no?" His eyes twinkled.

  "Stop playing games with me, Dad." Alan held forth his Tally. "Itdoesn't matter what the computer files say. Right here it says _Year 17Day 1_, and that's what I'm going by. Who cares what year it is onEarth? _This_ is my world!"

  "I know, Alan."

  Together they moved away from the viewscreen; it was time for breakfast,and the second gongs were sounding. "I'm just teasing, son. But that'sthe sort of thing you'll be up against if you leave the Starmen'sEnclave--the way your brother did."

  Alan frowned and his stomach went cold. He wished the unpleasant topicof his brother had not come up. "You think there's any chance Steve willcome back, this time down? Will we be in port long enough for him tofind us?"

  Captain Donnell's face clouded. "We're going to be on Earth for almost aweek," he said in a suddenly harsh voice. "That's ample time for Steveto rejoin us, if he cares to. But I don't imagine he'll care to. And Idon't know if I want very much to have him back."

  He paused outside the handsomely-panelled door of his private cabin, onehand on the thumb-plate that controlled entrance. His lips were set in atight thin line. "And remember this, Alan," he said. "Steve's not yourtwin brother any more. You're only seventeen, and he's almosttwenty-six. He'll never be your twin again."

  With sudden warmth the captain squeezed his son's arm. "Well, better getup there to eat, Alan. This is going to be a busy day for all of us."

  He turned and went into the cabin.

  Alan moved along the wide corridor of the great ship toward the messhall in Section C, thinking about his brother. It had been only aboutsix weeks before, when the _Valhalla_ had made its last previous stop onEarth, that Steve had decided to jump ship.

  The _Valhalla's_ schedule had called for them to spend two days on Earthand then leave for Alpha Centauri with a load of colonists for Alpha CIV. A starship's time is always scheduled far in advance, with bookingsplanned sometimes for decades Earthtime by the Galactic TradeCommission.

  When blastoff time came for the _Valhalla_, Steve had not reported backfrom the Starmen's Enclave where all Spacers lived during in-port stays.

  Alan's memories of the scene were still sharp. Captain Donnell had beenconducting check-off, making sure all members of the Crew had reportedback and were aboard. This was a vital procedure; in case anyone wereaccidentally left behind, it would mean permanent separation from hisfriends and family.

  He had reached the name _Donnell, Steve_. No answer came. CaptainDonnell called his name a second time, then a third. A tense silenceprevailed in the Common Room of the starship, where the Crew wasassembled.

  Finally Alan made himself break the angry silence. "He's not here, Dad.And he's not coming back," he said in a hesitant voice. And then he hadhad to explain to his father the whole story of his unruly, aggressivetwin brother's plan to jump ship--and how Steve had tried to persuadehim to leave the _Valhalla_ too.

  Steve had been weary of the endless shuttling from star to star, offorever ferrying colonists from one place to another without everstanding on the solid ground of a planet yourself for more than a fewdays here, a week there.

  Alan had felt tired of it too--they all did, at some time oranother--but he did not share his twin's rebellious nature, and he hadnot gone over the hill with Steve.

  Alan remembered his father's hard, grim expression as he had been toldthe story. Captain Donnell's reaction had been curt, immediate, andthoroughly typical: he had nodded, closed the roll book, and turned toArt Kandin, the _Valhalla's_ First Officer and the Captain'ssecond-in-command.

  "Remove Crewman Donnell from the roster," he had snapped. "All otherhands are on board. Prepare for blastoff."

  Within the hour the flaming jets of the _Valhalla's_ planetary drive hadlifted the great ship from Earth. They had left immediately for AlphaCentauri, four and a half light-years away. The round trip had taken the_Valhalla_ just six weeks.

  During those six weeks, better than nine years had passed on Earth.

  Alan Donnell was seventeen years old.

  His twin brother Steve was now twenty-six.

  * * * * *

  "Happy rising, Alan," called a high, sharp voice as he headed past theblue-painted handholds of Gravity Deck 12 on his way toward the messhall.

  Startled, he glanced up, and then snorted in disgust as he saw who hadhailed him. It was Judy Collier, a thin, stringy-haired girl of aboutfourteen whose family had joined the Crew some five ship-years back. TheColliers were still virtual newcomers to the tight group on theship--the family units tended to remain solid and self-contained--butthey had managed to fit in pretty well by now.

  "Going to eat?" she asked.

  "Right enough," sai
d Alan, continuing to walk down the plastifoam-linedcorridor. She tagged along a step or two behind him.

  "Today's your birthday, isn't it?"

  "Right enough," Alan said again, more abruptly. He felt a sudden twingeof annoyance; Judy had somehow developed a silly crush on him during thelast voyage to Alpha C, and since then she had contrived to follow himaround wherever he went, bombarding him with questions. She was a sillyadolescent girl, Alan thought scornfully.

  "Happy birthday," she said, giggling. "Can I kiss you?"

  "No," returned Alan flatly. "You better watch out or I'm going to getRat after you."

  "Oh, I'm not afraid of that little beast," she retorted. "One of thesedays I'll chuck him down the disposal hatch like the little verminhe--_ouch!_"

  "You watch out who you're calling vermin," said a thin, dry,barely-audible voice from the floor.

  Alan glanced down and saw Rat, his pet and companion, squatting nearJudy and flicking his beady little red eyes mischievously in thedirection of the girl's bare skinny ankle.

  "He _bit_ me," Judy complained, gesturing as if she were going to stepon the little creature. But Rat nimbly skittered to one side, leaped tothe trousers of Alan's uniform, and from there clambered to his usualperch aboard his master's shoulder.

  Judy gestured at him in frustration, stamped her foot, and dashed awayinto the mess hall. Chuckling, Alan followed and found his seat at thebench assigned to Crewmen of his status quotient.

  "Thanks, fellow," he said softly to the little being on his shoulder."That's kid's getting to be pretty annoying."

  "I figured as much," Rat said in his chittering birdlike voice. "And Idon't like the way she's been looking at me. She's just the kind ofindividual who _would_ dump me in a disposal hatch."

  "Don't worry about it," Alan said. "If she pulls anything of the sortI'll personally see to it that she goes out right after you."

  "That does _me_ a lot of good," Rat said glumly as Alan's breakfast camerolling toward him on the plastic conveyor belt from the kitchen.

  Alan laughed and reached avidly for the steaming tray of food. He poureda little of his synthorange juice into a tiny pan for Rat, and fell to.

  Rat was a native of Bellatrix VII, an Earth-size windswept world thatorbited the bright star in the Orion constellation. He was a member ofone of the three intelligent races that shared the planet with a smallcolony of Earthmen.

  The _Valhalla_ had made the long trip to Bellatrix, 215 light-years fromEarth, shortly before Alan's birth. Captain Donnell had won thefriendship of the little creature and had brought him back to the shipwhen time came for the _Valhalla_ to return to Earth for its nextassignment.

  Rat had been the Captain's pet, and he had given Alan the small animalon his tenth birthday. Rat had never gotten along well with Steve, andmore than once he had been the cause of jealous conflicts between Alanand his twin.

  Rat was well named; he looked like nothing so much as a smallbluish-purple rodent, with wise, beady little eyes and a scaly curlingtail. But he spoke Terran clearly and well, and in every respect he wasan intelligent, loyal, and likable creature.

  They ate in silence. Alan was halfway through his bowl of protein mixwhen Art Kandin dropped down onto his bench facing him. The _Valhalla's_First Officer was a big pudgy-faced man who had the difficult job oftranslating the concise, sometimes almost cryptic commands of Alan'sfather into the actions that kept the great starship going.

  "Good rising, Alan. And happy birthday."

  "Thanks, Art. But how come you're loafing now? Seems to me you'd be busyas a Martian dustdigger today, of all days. Who's setting up the landingorbit, if you're here?"

  "Oh, that's all been done," Kandin said lightly. "Your Dad and I were upall last night working out the whole landing procedure." He reached outand took Rat from Alan's shoulder, and began to tickle him with hisforefinger. Rat responded with a playful nip of his sharp little teeth."I'm taking the morning off," Kandin continued. "You can't imagine hownice it's going to be to sit around doing nothing while everyone else isworking, for a change."

  "What's the landing hour?"

  "Precisely 1753 tonight. It's all been worked out. We actually are inthe landing orbit now, though the ship's gimbals keep you from feelingit. We'll touch down tonight and move into the Enclave tomorrow." Kandineyed Alan with sudden suspicion. "You're planning to stay in theEnclave, aren't you?"

  Alan put down his fork with a sharp tinny clang and stared levelly atthe First Officer. "That's a direct crack. You're referring to mybrother, aren't you?"

  "Who wouldn't be?" Kandin asked quietly. "The captain's son jumpingship? You don't know how your father suffered when Steve went over thehill. He kept it all hidden and just didn't say a thing, but I know ithit him hard. The whole affair was a direct reflection on his authorityas a parent, of course, and that's why he was so upset. He's a man whoisn't used to being crossed."

  "I know. He's been on top here so long, with everyone following hisorders, that he can't understand how someone could disobey and jumpship--especially his own son."

  "I hope _you_ don't have any ideas of----"

  Alan clipped off Kandin's sentence before it had gotten fully started."I don't need advice, Art. I know what's right and wrong. Tell me thetruth--did Dad send you to sound me out?"

  Kandin flushed and looked down. "I'm sorry, Alan. I didn'tmean--well----"

  They fell silent. Alan returned his attention to his breakfast, whileKandin stared moodily off into the distance.

  "You know," the First Officer said finally, "I've been thinking aboutSteve. It just struck me that you can't call him your twin any more.That's one of the strangest quirks of star travel that's been recordedyet."

  "I thought of that. He's twenty-six, I'm seventeen, and yet we used tobe twins. But the Fitzgerald Contraction does funny things."

  "That's for sure," Kandin said. "Well, time for me to start relaxing."He clapped Alan on the back, disentangled his long legs from the bench,and was gone.

  _The Fitzgerald Contraction does funny things_, Alan repeated tohimself, as he methodically chewed his way through the rest of his mealand got on line to bring the dishes to the yawning hopper that wouldcarry them down to the molecular cleansers. _Real funny things._

  He tried to picture what Steve looked like now, nine years older. Hecouldn't.

  _As velocity approaches that of light, time approaches zero._

  That was the key to the universe. _Time approaches zero._ The crew of aspaceship travelling from Earth to Alpha Centauri at a speed close tothat of light would hardly notice the passage of time on the journey.

  It was, of course, impossible ever actually to reach the speed of light.But the great starships could come close. And the closer they came, thegreater the contraction of time aboard ship.

  It was all a matter of relativity. Time is relative to the observer.

  Thus travel between the stars was possible. Without the FitzgeraldContraction, the crew of a spaceship would age five years en route toAlpha C, eight to Sirius, ten to Procyon. More than two centuries wouldelapse in passage to a far-off star like Bellatrix.

  Thanks to the contraction effect, Alpha C was three weeks away, Sirius amonth and a half. Even Bellatrix was just a few years' journey distant.Of course, when the crew returned to Earth they found things completelychanged; years had passed on Earth, and life had moved on.

  Now the _Valhalla_ was back on Earth again for a short stay. On Earth,starmen congregated at the Enclaves, the cities-within-cities that grewup at each spaceport. There, starmen mingled in a society of their own,without attempting to enter the confusing world outside.

  Sometimes a Spacer broke away. His ship left him behind, and he becamean Earther. Steve Donnell had done that.

  _The Fitzgerald Contraction does funny things._ Alan thought of thebrother he had last seen just a few weeks ago, young, smiling, his ownidentical twin--and wondered what the nine extra years had done to him.