Cascade Point Page 10

  "Quite nice, sir," Tomo managed, still feeling a bit off balance.

  "And I trust your rooms are satisfactory?"

  "Oh, certainly."

  "Good. Well, we want you to be comfortable for the duration of your stay. Is there anything we can do for you? Something special, perhaps, that we haven't thought to provide?"

  Tomo took a deep breath. It's not an unreasonable request, he told himself firmly. "As a matter of fact... would it be possible for me to visit Maigre while I'm here? I'd sort of like to see what dirtside life is like."

  Italian's expression didn't change. "I'm sure something can be arranged. Uh—" His eyes flicked to the side. "Why don't you come down to my office and we can work out a schedule for you?" "Come down... in person?" Tomo asked, faltering a bit. Somehow, his rather hazy plan hadn't included consequences quite this immediate. "Can't we do it from here?" Halian shrugged fractionally. "Oh, we could. But I wouldn't think it'd be a problem for someone who wants to visit a planet full of people."

  It was nothing Tomo could put his finger on, but suddenly he felt like he was at the far end of a microscope. Halian was watching him closely... too closely... as if this was some sort of test.... "You're right, of course," he told the director firmly. "How do I get to where you are?"

  If Halian was surprised, he hid it well. "There are guidelights along the hallway walls; I'll have them set to lead you to my office. I—guess I'll see you in a few minutes. Good-bye."

  "Signing off," Tomo nodded as the screen went blank. For a moment he sat there, working up his courage. Then, standing, he strode resolutely to the emergency door with its bold EXIT TO STATION inscription. Almost unwillingly, his hand reached out to touch the red plate, and with a gentle whoosh the door slid open. Licking his lips quickly, Tomo stepped through—

  And jumped back inside, using a hand on the doorjamb to swing off to the side. Back flat against the wall, he mouthed a silent curse at the still-open door. Finally, it slid closed... but not before the two men he'd fled from had time to pass by.

  He stood there for several seconds, slowly mastering the emotion of that near- contact. Unlocking his frozen joints, he peeled himself from the wall. He tried to step to the door again, but his feet seemed unable to take him that direction. The touch plate glared mockingly at him; turning away, he returned to the desk and gingerly sat down. "Max," he croaked.

  "Yes, Tomo?"

  He licked his lips, and this time they worked better. "Get me the director's office, will you?"

  "Certainly. Are you all right? You sound agitated."

  "Just make the call, huh?"

  Max didn't answer, but a moment later Halian's face appeared on the screen. "Yes, Tomo, what is it?"

  "Sir... would it be possible for you to come here instead?" Tomo asked. "At your convenience, of course, and if it's not too much trouble."

  "No trouble at all. I'll be up in a few minutes. Is it all right if I bring a couple of colleagues with me?"

  Tomo wanted very much to say no, but Halian had that microscope look again. "Uh... yeah, sure."

  "Good. We'll see you soon, then. Good-bye."

  The screen blanked and Tomo wilted a bit in his chair. No trouble at all, the director had said airily, as if taking a trip through a crowded port was the easiest thing in the universe.

  Unbelievable!

  —

  Director Halian turned off the intercom, sent a glance at Dr. Ross, and then focused his attention on the newcomer. "Well, Dr. Scharn?" he invited.

  Dreya Scharn shrugged, wondering what the flapdoodle secrecy was all about. To her, the whole thing seemed absurdly open-and-shut. "If it were anyone but a starship crewman I'd class him as a severe case of anthropophobia and start chemo-imbalance correction immediately. But surely you realize that after however-odd many years in space, any of us would be pretty weak in the social- contact areas. I'd suggest you give him a few days before you start getting worried."

  She stopped, suddenly aware that their reactions didn't fit what she was saying. "Is something wrong?"

  Halian cleared his throat, flashed an annoyed look at Ross. "I see Dr. Ross hasn't given you the whole story yet."

  "Sorry, Jer," Ross said, with the brusque manner of someone on the defensive. "But I didn't want to say too much until Dr. Scharn arrived—and I was expecting Tomo to give us a little more time." He turned to Scharn. "You see, Doctor, it isn't exactly Tomo's fear of people that concerns us—as a matter of fact, that's a normal part of a starship mainter's personality. The problem—"

  "Just a minute," Scharn interrupted. "Are you telling me Parallax Industries is using mentally disturbed people to fly its starships?"

  "No, of course not," Halian said before Ross could answer. "The mainters are perfectly sane and well adjusted... within their own parameters."

  "Mr. Halian, there's no way you can consider extreme fear of people to be within the bounds of normal sanity."

  "I said 'within their parameters,' " Halian reminded her. "Mainters are specially chosen for loner characteristics."

  Scharn cocked an eyebrow. " 'Chosen'?"

  Halian's eyes slipped just a bit from her gaze, but his nod was firm. "Yes." Truth-bender, she labeled him silently. She considered pressing the point, decided to file it for later. "All right. Then if anthropophobia isn't Tomo's problem, what is?"

  "The fact that he's talking about taking a trip dirtside," Ross said. "A mainter shouldn't even be thinking things like that, let alone seriously considering them."

  "Why not?" Scharn frowned. "Maybe after—this is what, his third voyage? Maybe after twenty-odd years on a starship he wants to try something new."

  "If one of your patients said he wanted to jump off a high rise without an air belt, would you say he just wanted to try something new?" Ross countered.

  Scharn glared at him. "That's an absurd comparison and you know it. People can't fly, but even extreme loners can learn to deal with crowds."

  Halian shook his head. "Mainters can't. That's the whole point."

  For a moment Scharn stared at him, something cold starting to stir in her stomach. "Then we're not talking about people who've simply been chosen anymore," she said coldly. "What you're saying implies a great deal of mental conditioning, very likely illegal as well as unethical."

  "I assure you, Doctor," Halian said, "that Parallax Industries is not engaged in any illegal activities. As for ethics, I think you'll find things aren't as simple as you might imagine."

  "Oh?" Scharn gave him a hard smile. "Then perhaps it's time I found out how 'things' really are. And it'd better be a complete explanation."

  "Not to change the subject," Ross interjected, "but before we get into anything lengthy, shouldn't we go upstairs and see Tomo? He is expecting us, remember."

  Scharn kept her eyes on Halian. "I can't begin any kind of diagnosis until I know exactly what I'm up against."

  "You'll get the complete explanation—I promise," the director said. "But Ross is right. Perhaps you can treat this as an orientation session or something."

  Scharn hesitated, but this time she sensed Halian was telling the truth. "All right. Let's go, then."

  The elevator trip was the oddest Scharn had ever experienced. She knew enough to be ready for the change in weight as they moved toward the stations rotation axis, but she'd forgotten about the Coriolis effect that nudged her sideways into the wall and held her there for the embarrassing seconds it took to get her feet back into position and lean into the pseudoforce. Halian and Ross ignored her clumsiness, but she knew they'd seen it. She was glad when the car finally slowed and came to a halt. The corridors were another surprise, though a little reflection told her she should've expected this, too. Several decks above the station's living and business areas, there was no call for bright colors or cushiony carpeting here. Only cargo handlers and station mainters used this area, and they were more interested in utility than aesthetics.

  The door Halian led them to was like all the others they'd p
assed, except that its ID label was lettered in bright red and cautioned the prospective entrant to check with the station computer to make sure no starship mainter was inside. The warning gave her momentary pause—was there something dangerous about starship mainters?—and she hastily searched her memory for anything she might have heard on the subject. But Halian showed no hesitation as he stepped to the door and pushed the hailer. Scharn heard a soft ping, and an even softer reply, and Halian fingered the touch plate. The door slid open and they walked in.

  Tomo was standing behind a small desk across the room, his back solidly against the wall. His expression was one Scharn had seen before, on nervous lab animals.

  "Hello, Tomo," Halian said. "I'm Jer Halian. Sorry we were delayed a bit."

  Tomo nodded once, a quick up-down jerk of his head. "Hello," he said.

  Scharn's peripheral vision picked up a couch to their left, a couple of meters farther from Tomo's position than they were now. "Couch," she murmured, nudging Halian.

  For a wonder, he caught the hint and led them over there. They sank into it, and Halian gestured to the desk chair a meter in front of Tomo. "Won't you sit down, too?"

  Tomo's eyes flicked to the chair, then back to his visitors. Gingerly, he pulled the seat back to rest against the wall beside him and sat down.

  "Well," Ross said briskly. "Tomo, Director Halian tells us you'd like to take a trip down to the surface while you're here. We'd like to talk to you about that, if we may."

  Some of the tension left Tomo's face, to be replaced by suspicion. "You sound like Max in his psychological mode. Are you a psychiatrist?"

  "No, no—I'm Dr. Alexei Ross, chief physician of Maigre Space Station. You must understand that your safety—whether here or dirtside—is our responsibility, and we have to make sure you're properly fit before we can let you go. The gravity's twice what you're used to, for starters."

  If Ross had hoped to distract Tomo from his original question, it didn't work. Shifting his gaze to Scharn, he asked. "How about you?"

  "I'm Dr. Dreya Scharn," she began; but before she could go on, Halian jumped in.

  "Dr. Scharn's from Maigre proper, Tomo," the director said. "We brought her here because she knows more about dirtside conditions than anyone aboard the station. She has some questions she needs to ask you before we can discuss your trip to the planet."

  Scharn managed to keep her professional face in place, but it was a near thing. To half-lie about her profession and then drop the conversational burden directly into her lap was a double whammy she hadn't expected. But she was damned if she was going to let Halian's action throw her. Smiling at Tomo, she opened with the simplest time-buyer in her repertoire. "Why don't we start by getting to know you better, Tomo. What was your childhood like?"

  "You mean my trainage?" Tomo asked, still looking wary. "Just like anyone else's. Lynn—that was the stations LNN Learning Computer—taught me how to inspect and repair all the machinery on board a starship. When I'd learned everything I was assigned to the Goldenrod."

  "What were your parents like?" she asked.

  A flicker of puzzlement crossed the mainters face. "Parents?"

  "He won't remember any human parents or nurses," Halian murmured in Scharn's ear. "He'd have been taken away from them when he was young."

  "I see," she said, trying hard to keep her astonished horror from showing. Mental conditioning was a well-defined, if seldom used, psychological tool, but never had she heard of it being started so early in a subjects life. The legality of this whole thing was getting shakier and shakier. "Were you lonely as a boy?" she asked Tomo. "You had playmates, didn't you?"

  "Of course. I already told you about Lynn."

  "No, I mean other children. Did you play with any of the others at your station?"

  Tomo shrugged fractionally. "I sometimes played with Orbin on the viewer. I liked playing alone or with Lynn better, though. Look, what does all this have to do with my fitness to go dirtside?"

  A damn good question, Scharn thought. "We wanted some idea how much experience you've had interacting with other people," she improvised, hoping it sounded reasonable. "So after your training you went aboard the Goldenrod. Do you get along with the other mainters?"

  "Well enough. We don't talk to each other much."

  Scharn frowned. "You mean you're all together in the same ship for years at a time and don't do things together?" "We're not really together; we've each got our own pod, you know. And there usually isn't any maintenance that requires two of us working in sync. Max flies the ship and tells me when there's work to do; the rest of the time I read or play music or fiddle with my electronics kits."

  The starship model Scharn had seen on Halian's desk suddenly made sense. Six mainters, six mutually isolated pods... "So you really are all alone out there."

  "Pretty much, except for Max."

  "I see. How do you feel about being alone? Does it ever bother you?"

  Tomo snorted. "Of course not. What kind of stupid question is that?" His eyes flicked between Scharn and the others. "What's going on here, anyway?"

  Scharn raised her hands chest high, palms outward, in a soothing gesture she hoped Tomo would understand. "All right; let's get back to Maigre, then. Can you tell me exactly why you want to visit the planet?"

  Irritation was beginning to replace the tension in Tomo's face. "Why is everyone making such a big deal about this?" he snapped. "I've never been dirtside before and I got curious about it. Haven't any of you ever wanted to try something new?"

  "Of course we have," Ross put in. "It's just that dirtside conditions are so different from starship life that we wanted you to understand exactly what it would be like. On a planet, you see, you have wide, open-roofed spaces—"

  "I know—Max already gave me the full list. I can get used to it."

  "There are also people down there," Scharn reminded him. "Lots of people. It seems to me you're having trouble right now, with just three of us in the same room with you."

  The tension flooded full force back into Tomo's expression, and Scharn had the sudden impression that he'd halfway convinced himself that his visitors were actually just images on a viewer screen. "I can manage," he ground out. "If you can get used to a port, I can get used to a planet."

  "You're talking nonsense, Tomo," Halian said, his frustration evident in his tone. "You're a starship mainter—you don't belong on a planet."

  "Do people belong on Charon's World?" Tomo retorted. "Or Tau Ceti? Human beings can adapt to practically anything."

  "Sure they can. Except that—"

  Halian broke off abruptly; at the same time, Scharn sensed Ross jerk in reaction. She turned back and forth quickly, trying to catch the men's expressions before they could be covered up. She saw enough to decide it was time for a showdown. Turning back to Tomo, she said, "I think we'd better leave you for a while, Tomo. I need to discuss a few things with Director Halian before we talk any more about your trip to Maigre. In the meantime, though, I'm sure you could walk around the station if you'd like. It's not a planet, but it would give you some practice in getting used to other people."

  She stood up, Ross and Halian following suit. The latter gripped Scharn's upper arm in a reaction that added fuel to her suspicions. "I'm not sure letting him run loose is a good idea," the director whispered.

  "Good-bye," Scharn smiled at Tomo. She stepped past Ross, the movement forcing Halian to release his hold on her arm, and led the way out of the room. As the door closed she got a glimpse of Tomo sagging in obvious relief.

  "Dr. Scharn," Halian said, again taking her arm, "he should not be allowed free access to the station—"

  She shook off the hold and started down the corridor. "Let's go to your office, Mr. Halian," she called back over her shoulder. "We've got a lot of talking to do."

  The return trip was made in chilly silence. Scharn held her fire until Halian was seated behind his desk again, and then let him have it.

  "I don't know what you thin
k about miracle cures and psychiatry," she bit out, "but I can assure you that I won't be able to do the job you hired me for unless I start getting some straight answers."

  "I know," Halian said, waving her toward the seat she'd occupied earlier. "Sit down, Doctor."

  She remained standing. "I mean genuinely straight answers. First Tomo was chosen, then he was conditioned, and now you've practically bitten your tongue off because he started talking about what humans can do. Now, either you give me the whole story or you schedule me a seat on the next shuttle back to Maigre."

  Halian stared up at her in stony patience for a couple of heartbeats after she finished her speech, then once more indicated her chair. "Sit down, Doctor."

  She hesitated, then obeyed, realizing with some chagrin that Halian was still in control of the situation. Psychological training, apparently, was no match for the experience gained in boardroom battles.

  "You're right, of course," Halian said. "We should have told you everything right away. I suppose my only excuse is that you're an outsider, and that after a certain number of years keeping secrets away from outsiders becomes a very strong habit." He shifted his gaze to Ross. "Doctor? You know the details better than I do."

  Ross pursed his lips briefly. "As I'm sure you know, Dr. Scharn, every human personality trait is a product of both heredity and environment, the genetic arrangement forming a sort of bedrock infrastructure of tendencies and aptitudes on which the individual personality is expressed." He paused. "What you may not know is that any of these genetic tendencies can be... enhanced, as it were, to a point where none of the subsequent environmental factors can really affect it. That's basically what's been done to Tomo."

  She'd halfway been expecting this, but hadn't really wanted to believe it. "Are you saying," she said carefully, "that you've genetically engineered that entire corps of starship mainters to be afraid of people?"

  "Not on purpose," Ross said. "The procedure was designed to make them able to tolerate—even enjoy—years of solitude at a time. Apparently the anthropophobia comes as an unavoidable part of the package."