Destination: Void: Prequel to the Pandora Sequence by Frank Herbert Read Free Book Online Page B

back there, expecting us to produce a detailed report on ship systems without the help of an OMC.”
    “But they had to ask for it,” Bickel said. “And we’ll have to doctor up some kind of report.”
    Bickel looked at Flattery. “You can cook up a report for Hempstead, Raj. Psychiatrists are experts at deception.”
    At times, this Bickel is uncommonly aware of subtleties, Flattery thought. I must warn Prudence. “All of us renounced deception, John.”
    “Just like we renounced birth and parents,” Bickel said. “It was easy. Somebody did it for us.”
    Flattery knew he had to speak quickly, before this conversation devolved into self-pity. He kept his attention on a tiny paint flaw in the hard-baked surface of the master board, chose his words carefully: “The ship has to have conscious direction for the long haul, John. It has to. The trip involves too many unknowns that have to be dealt with on conditions of immediacy. So what do we do?”
    “You’re asking me?” Bickel asked. “You’re the psychiatrist.”
    But I’m not the motivator here, Flattery thought. I’m not the one who can inject purpose into our efforts.
    “This is going to require more direct methods,” he said.
    Bickel stared at him.
    “Well, what’re you going to tell them?” Timberlake asked. “They want to know why we didn’t alert them when the first brain conked out. Of all the—”
    “There’s another thing,” Bickel said, shifting his attention to Timberlake. “They gave us no code for that particular emergency. Are we to assume they thought it impossible for the OMCs to fail? We are not! We have to assume they had some other motive. They put the threshold high on that one for a specific purpose.”
    “Ah, for hell sakes,” Timberlake protested, “you’re finding bogeymen where they don’t exist, Bick.”
    Bickel shook his head from side to side. “No … they were telling us in no uncertain terms that once we blew the whistle we were on our own. We have to find our own long-haul driver for the Tin Egg.”
    He’s circling all around it, Flattery thought. When will he zero in?
    Bickel wet his lips with his tongue. This borderline conversation, skirting the need for a consciousness to command the ship, disturbed him deeply. He was too honest with himself to ignore this fact.
    Timberlake, picking up the threads of a previous conversation, said: “There was no physical reason for those brains to fail. The life systems were perfect. It’s as though they committed suicide … under some unknown stress.”
    With an abrupt gesture, Bickel shifted his AAT board into transmit phase: “Okay, we’ll stall ’em on their detailed report. They know it’ll take time, anyway. As to why we didn’t alert them earlier, I’ve decided to tell ’em flatly it was because they goofed and didn’t give us a code for this particular emergency. If they—”
    “You’ll only get Hempstead angry,” Flattery said.
    “Hempstead angry will be more help to us than Hempstead cool and devious,” Bickel said. “The angry man will make mistakes. He’ll let some real help slip through to us.”
    “What makes you think Big Daddy would try to foul us up?” Timberlake asked.
    “He’s a political administrator. Even if it’s unconscious …” Bickel hesitated; an idea had flicked into his mind … then eluded him. He went on, in a lower tone: “Even if it’s unconscious, he’ll put political considerations ahead of anything else. His first efforts will be to keep himself in power. We’re in a position to throw out political elements and concentrate on our immediate problem. To do that, we throw monkey wrenches into the political gears and focus just on what we need. The things we need will come through.”
    Adroit, subtle, and capable of profound cunning, Flattery thought. This Bickel bears the most careful watching.
    “Things we need,” Timberlake said. “Such as what?”
    “Such as advice from certain specialists at Moonbase,