CV

3

A powered wheelchair approached the moving ramp at the stem of Sea Venture, under the sign that read, permanent residents only. In the chair was a very small gray-haired man; behind it was a large young man with an expressionless com-fed face. As they entered the ramp, a young woman in a yellow pantsuit ran up beside them. “Professor Newland. I’m Ann Bonano of the Toronto Star."

“No interviews,” barked the large young man.

“No, that's all right, Hal.” Newland said in a surprisingly resonant voice. “I know Ms. Bonano—we met at the convention in Los Angeles, what was it, four years ago?”

“I didn't think you’d remember,” she said, smiling. “Professor Newland, it’s funny to find you here, and even funnier to find you going into the permanent resident section. Surely this doesn’t mean—”

“No, no." said Newland, “just trying to make your job harder. Sneaking aboard, to put it bluntly. How did you know I was here?”

"I was having lunch with a friend and forgot the time, and then I was in such a hurry that I got out at the wrong gate—and I looked up and saw you. One of the breaks.” She took a notebook from her yellow bag. “As long as I’ve trapped you, why are you here? Have you changed your opinion about Sea Venture and the ocean habitat program? "

“No. not exactly, but I thought it would be educational. You know."

She hesitated. “Professor Newland, let me put it another way. Our people in Washington tell us the space colony bill is going to be voted down again this year by a substantial margin. Does that mean you think it's time to give up? Do you see the ocean habitats as a viable alternative to L-Five?”

“I wouldn't put it that way,” Newland said easily. “You know, this year or next year, it doesn’t matter, we’ve got to go into space. The L-Five colonies are going to be built, there's no doubt about that; the only question is when.”

She scribbled a note. “But in the meantime," she said, “if Congress continues to fund the ocean habitat program, don’t you think that will make them less and less inclined to give you any money for L-Five?”

“We'll have to wait and see. I think Congress usually does the right thing, sooner or later. I know you've followed my lectures, and 1 don't have to tell you what the reasons are. By going into space we’ll be opening up brand-new territory, not just using up more of what we’ve already got. And not only that, we’ll be gaining vast new sources of energy. That's vital. We’ve got to have the energy, for six billion people. And you can't get that energy from the ocean.”

“Some people are talking about thermal plants along the habitat lanes.”

“Well, that’s what I like to call a deep-blue-sea project.”

She made another note. “Professor Newland, there have been rumors for over a year now of some kind of split between you and the rest of the L-Five leadership. Is there anything to those rumors?”

“We’ve had our disagreements, over the years. That’s not surprising.”

She paused. “You said you thought this trip on Sea Venture would be educational. What do you hope to learn?”

“Who knows? I’m always ready to learn something new. Talk to me again after Guam, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“You’re getting off at Guam, then, and flying back?”

“Yes."

“What are your plans then?”

“No plans. I’ll do whatever needs doing.”

She put her notebook away; they were almost at the top of the ramp. “Thank you very much. Professor Newland. I hope you have a pleasant voyage.”

The open-decked boarding area was crowded with people greeting each other, exchanging packages, running back and forth. There seemed to be a good deal of hugging and kissing. A smiling Chinese steward came toward them through the hubbub. “Follow me, please, Professor Newland, and we’ll get you into the passenger section without any trouble.”

They had gone only a yard or two when a large brown man put his hand on the arm of the wheelchair. “Professor Newland, I couldn’t help overhearing, on the ramp. It’s an honor to have you with us. I’m Ben Higpen, the mayor. Here’s my phone number. Give me a call any time and I’ll be glad to show you around.”

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Higpen.”

“My pleasure.”

Only a few people stayed to watch Sea Venture slip away from her moorings, fussed at by four little tugs that churned the deep-blue, almost purple, water of the harbor. There was no band playing, and no one waving from the decks—no place to wave from. When Sea Venture was far enough away from the dock, two more tugs joined her amidships. The vessel slowly rotated, revealing her true size for the first time. Two tall white cylinders, only one of which had been visible before, towered against the sky. Slowly and steadily the vessel moved away from the island, out toward the bright horizon and the horror that awaited her.