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the air. But the creature itself was gasping now, panting. Its purring and
mewing had turned into the choking cough of a tiger. They still climbed, but
Ryeland could feel the creature falter.
They were at a dangerous altitude. Suddenly he was breathless. His drenched
body was chilled through, even in the white, bright glare of the naked sun.
It was the spaceling's wounds that were endangering them now, Ryeland
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realized. Gottling's torture chamber had left its marks. The creature's
symbiotes had been destroyed, or some of them had. Its fusorians that gave it
power, its parasitic Reef animalcules that made it possible for a warm-
blooded air-breather to live in space in the first place, their numbers had
been greatly diminished. They were not all gone, for there was still some air.
It filled his grasping lungs, kept his body fluids from boiling out^ screened
him at least a little from the cold and the even more deadly UV of the sun.
There was some air . . . but was there enough?
Ryeland laughed grimly, with almost the last of his breath. "That's what I'll
find out," he panted, hoarsely . . . and passed out. He was not conscious of
the moment when he blacked out; he only knew that he was going.
When he awoke, it was with sheer wonder that he was alive.
Donna Creery's perfect face bent over him, making the wonder all the greater.
"I made it," he whispered incredulously.
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The girl said seriously, "Yes, so far. But don't crowd your luck. Ryeland.
We're still in trouble."
He stirred to get up and floated free, until the girl's restraining hand
pushed him back against the metal acceleration couch. They were in a
spaceship, apparently in free-fall. He looked around.
Automatically he said, "I've got to find a " He stopped. He had been about to
ask where the teletype was, so that he could check in with the Machine. But
that was no longer necessary, of course.
Donna Creery gestured at the cabin of the spaceship. "You like it, Steven?
It's yours."
He was startled. "Mine?"
"Oh, yes. Do you remember the ship that General Fleemer equipped for you, with
remote controls from Point Triangle Gray? This is it with some changes. I've
removed the remote controls. But it was a perfectly good interplanetary
rocket, right in orbit where Chiquita could bring you to it.
Only " she looked worried. "Only I'm surprised that Father isn't here."
Ryeland shook his head.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't understand. Why does the Planner want me here?"
She said, "He ought to tell you himself, but perhaps I can. Did you know,
Steven, that in the past two months there have been over a hundred major
seismic shocks? And they always seem to strike centers of population. My
father thinks well, it doesn't sound right when I say it He thinks the
Machine is doing it."
"The Machine!"
"I know, Steven. But Father is worried. He has discovered that General Fleemer
and others have been tampering with the Machine! Father is a good man, Steven,
and he says he does not understand this. But I do. Fleemer wants to control
the Machine because he wants to control the Plan of
Man and destroying the project for discovery of a jetless drive is only one
step in his plan. All those seismic shocks and accidents with subtrain tubes
and fusion reactors and the new ion drives they're all part of it, too.
Deliberate sabotage!
"And, oh, Steven! How well it has worked! The Machine is only transistors and
relays, you know; it knows nothing but what is fed into it. Fleemer has
managed to corrupt its input circuits, and now the Machine is almost openly
hostile to Father, and the whole crux of the matter right now is the
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%20...2001-03%20-%20The%20Starchild%20
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file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%20E-books/LoPL%20full%20...child%20(3
)/Starchild%2001-03%20-%20The%20Starchild%20Trilogy.txt jetless drive. The
Machine has come to
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think that such a drive will destroy the Plan of Man. It has overruled
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Father's orders on it oh, a thousand times so that Father has to resort to
subterfuge and tricks. He let me rescue you, as one of his moves. But I'm
afraid it's too late."
She moved away, peering worriedly at the viewports on the spaceship's panel.
"They don't seem to be following. Not yet, anyhow."
Ryeland noticed he was shivering. It was not cold in the ship, but he had only
the ill-fitting coveralls to wear and they were soaked through. "Who?" he
demanded, "The Plan Police," she said, surprised. "General Fleemer will be
after Chiquita, even if they don't suspect you are with me. Though we can't
count on that, of course; it wouldn't be unreasonable for the Machine to
inform them that I had rescued you from Heaven. He was going to kill Chiquita,
you see, so I stole her." She frowned as Ryeland shook his head.
"Why shouldn't I steal her?" the girl flared. "She was mine! And the only safe
place for Chiquita is out in space out on the Reefs, if I can get her there.
And, of course, that's the only safe place for you."
Ryeland said angrily, "You're asking me to run away from the Machine! You want
me to be an outlawl"
"Oh, Steven, what do you think you are? Have you forgotten Heaven already? I
saved your life . . .
You're lucky you got here," she said seriously, stroking the space-ling. "I
wasn't at all sure
Chiquita could make the jump from atmosphere."
"Neither was I."
She smiled, and for a moment she was the impish, confident girl who had
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