The Burning Bridge | Page 2

and silly into silence.
Hallmyer said, with the alien hiss in his English that Coffin hated, for it
was like the Serpent in a once noble garden:
"Apparently the colony has no more reason to be started. But how shall
we consult with three thousand would-be pioneers lying in deepsleep?"
"Shall we?" Coffin did not know why--not yet--but he felt his brain
move with the speed of fear. "We've undertaken to deliver them to
Rustum. In the absence of definite orders from Earth, are we even
allowed to consider a change of plans ... since a general vote can't be
taken? Better avoid possible trouble and not even mention--" He broke
off. Mardikian's face had become a mask of dismay.
"But, sir!" bleated the Com officer.
A chill rose up in Coffin. "You have already told," he said.
"Yes," whispered Mardikian. "I met Coenrad de Smet, he had come
over to this ship for some repair parts, and ... I never thought--"
"Exactly!" growled Coffin.
The fleet numbered fifteen, more than half the interstellar ships

humankind possessed. But Earth's overlords had been as anxious to get
rid of the Constitutionalists (the most stubborn ones, at least; the
stay-at-homes were ipso facto less likely to be troublesome) as that
science-minded, liberty-minded group of archaists were to escape being
forcibly absorbed by modern society. Rustum, e Eridani II, was six
parsecs away, forty-one years of travel, and barely habitable: but the
only possible world yet discovered. A successful colony would be
prestigious, and could do no harm; its failure would dispose of a thorn
in the official ribs. Tying up fifteen ships for eight decades was all right
too. Exploration was a dwindling activity, which interested fewer men
each generation.
* * * * *
So Earth's government co-operated fully. It even provided speeches and
music when the colonists embarked for the orbiting fleet. After which,
Coffin thought, the government had doubtless grinned to itself and
thanked its various heathen gods that that was over with.
"Only now," he muttered, "it isn't."
He free-sat in the Ranger's general room, a tall, bony, faintly grizzled
Yankee, and waited. The austerity of the walls was broken by a few
pictures. Coffin had wanted to leave them bare--since no one else
would care for a view of the church where his father had preached, a
hundred years ago, or be interested in a model of that catboat the boy
Joshua had sailed on a bay which glittered in summers now
forgotten--but even the theoretically absolute power of a fleet captain
had its limits. At least the men nowadays were not making this room
obscene with naked women. Though in all honesty, he wasn't sure he
wouldn't rather have that than ... brush-strokes on rice paper, the
suggestion of a tree, and a classic ideogram. He did not understand the
new generations.
The Ranger skipper, Nils Kivi, was like a breath of home: a small
dapper Finn who had traveled with Coffin on the first e Eridani trip.
They were not exactly friends, an admiral has no intimates, but they
had been young in the same decade.

Actually, thought Coffin, most of us spacemen are anachronisms. I
could talk to Goldstein or Yamato or Pereira, to quite a few on this
voyage, and not meet blank surprise when I mentioned a dead actor or
hummed a dead song. But of course, they are all in unaging deepsleep
now. We'll stand our one-year watches in turn, and be put back in the
coldvats, and have no chance to talk till journey's end.
"It may prove to be fun," mused Kivi.
"What?" asked Coffin.
"To walk around High America again, and fish in the Emperor River,
and dig up our old camp," said Kivi. "We had some fine times on
Rustum, along with all the work and danger."
Coffin was startled, that his own thoughts should have been so closely
followed. "Yes," he agreed, remembering strange wild dawns on the
Cleft edge, "that was a pretty good five years."
Kivi sighed. "Different this time," he said. "Now that I think about it, I
am not sure I do want to go back. We had so much hope then--we were
discoverers, walking where men had never even laid eyes before. Now
the colonists will be the hopeful ones. We are just their transportation."
Coffin shrugged. "We must take what is given us, and be thankful."
"This time," said Kivi, "I will constantly worry: suppose I come home
again and find my job abolished? No more space travel at all. If that
happens, I refuse to be thankful."
Forgive him, Coffin asked his God. It is cruel to watch the foundation
of your life being gnawed away.
Kivi's eyes lit up, the briefest flicker. "Of course," he said, "if we really
do