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she turned to him and said,  Good job, Lieutenant. Now let s go back and get the power reactor before
we patch the generator into the ship s star drive.
 Very well, Ms. Dresser. You heard her, men! Back to the freighter. We ve a power reactor to offload.
#
Ensign Niles Pendergast sat at the sensor station in the bowels ofMagellan and watched an impossibly
large ship make the slow climb from Earth. According to the glowing green digits on his screen, the vessel
was more than one hundred kilometers in diameter. In fact, the ship was nowhere near that large. Or
rather, it was, but it was not.
The vessel climbing toward them was a solar-sail-powered racing yacht out of Earth parking orbit. They
had watched it climb laboriously away from the planet for the past three days. The sail was every bit as
large as the computer claimed, but so thin that a thousand sheets of the mirrored polymer made a stack
thinner than tissue paper. As for the yacht itself, that was a pod barely large enough to carry its crew of
three and minimal life support equipment. Conditions aboard were so primitive that the yacht s crew lived
in their suits. Pendergast had heard that at the finish of each year s Solar Regatta, there were so many
showers taken aboard the host station that water had to be rationed.
 What s that you are looking at Mr. Pendergast? Chief Newman asked from his station beside the
ensign s. The chief was monitoring the team sweating the new stardrive generator in place onMagellan  s
hull. There was considerable profanity on Channel 3, not coincidentally; the one the Lady VIP s suit was
not equipped to receive.
 That solar yacht is back, Chief, bigger than ever.
 Wonder what a yacht is doing in polar orbit, sir? the chief asked aloud. His tone was respectful
enough, but the words conveyed the message that Pendergast should be wondering too.
 He is close enough, maybe we should find out, the ensign agreed. He punched a control and caused a
high gain antenna to slew to point where the control pod ought to be.  Space yacht, this isMagellan .
You are approaching a restricted area. Advise your intentions, over!
There was no reply for more than a minute as Pendergast sent the same warning three times. Finally, a
voice responded.
 Hello,Magellan , this isGossamer Gnat . What restricted area?
 Orbital Control has declared a 100 kilometer buffer zone around PoleStar Station to be off-limits to all
traffic. What are your intentions?
 Well, damn it, why doesn t anyone ever tell me these things? the exasperated voice exclaimed.
 If you kept up with your Notices to Spacers you would know that this station has been restricted for
almost two months now.
 What the hell for?
 I am sure I don t know,Gossamer Gnat . I just work here.
 Be advised,Magellan , that I am having control problems. One of my anchor units is loose and in
danger of separating. I could lose some of my rigging if it goes. I had planned to reef my sail and call at
PoleStar for repairs.
 Sorry,Gossamer Gnat , that will not be possible. I suggest you shift your sail and start spiraling down
again. You can have a tug meet you for a return to equatorial orbit.
 I need to make repairs, the peevish voice replied.
 Are you declaring an emergency? Pendergast asked. Since the days of airplanes, those words have
held magic when spoken by a pilot-in-command. In this case, they would automatically clear the yacht
for its approach to PoleStar Habitat. Coincidentally, the declaration would also leave the pilot liable for
criminal and civil penalties if the emergency turned out not to be real.
There was a long pause before the voice responded,  Negative. The problem is not that bad. I will begin
maneuvers to return to parking orbit immediately.
 Good day to you, sir, Pendergast said before switching off.  Well, he thought,  that s about all the
excitement I can expect this watch. He reminded himself of a time he had been on watch in the New
Eden system when things had gotten much too exciting.
Just for fun, he used one of the big ultraviolet lasers to paint the light sail. The target was so frinking large
at this close range that the picture took nearly thirty seconds to build on the screen. The sail, he noted,
was the usual spinning disk with outrigger panels to aid in tilting the axis of rotation. Emanating from the
sail were the fixed rigging and the control shrouds used in maneuvering, all of which were too thin to be
seen against the blackness of space. Even to the laser display, it looked as though the tiny pod was
suspended by magic from the vast dish shaped sail.
He ordered the computer to zoom in on the pod and waited while it did its work. The yacht s life pod
was little more than a formless splotch on the screen. He was about to return to the normal watch screen
when he noticed a tiny speck separated from the pod by a few millimeters of blackness.
?
 Computer, he commanded.  What is the speck of light at  He reeled off the coordinates without
bothering to mark the spot with his cursor.
 Object is too small to identify, came the musical reply.  It separated from the pod four minutes ago.
 Do you still have it in sight?
 Negative. It is not visible with normal wavelengths.
 What do you think, Chief? Pendergast asked Newman, who was now more interested in the ensign s
screen than he was in listening to the work party.
 Hit it with another scan.
Pendergast ordered another laser sweep of the light sail. Suddenly, his screen was yelling at him and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]