Nansen looked into the brown countenance. “You want to stay, don’t you?” he asked.
“With all my heart. But I am trying to be fair. Logical, as you requested.”
Nansen smiled a trifle. “You would.” Louder: “A vote is futile in any event. Counting myself, we have five who want to stay” plus Jean, were she here, “four who want to go.”
“Y-you’re forgetting the Tahirians,” Cleland said. “Ivan, Peter, Leo — make seven. Emil is for you, I admit. But still, it’s seven against six.”
“Simon is neutral,” Brent added. He spoke truth, they knew. Scientific curiosity was seldom a strong Tahirian motivation, at least in the one Tahirian culture still in existence. Simon had served ens race and clan by enlisting, with the personal sacrifice that that entailed. Whatever came of it, en would be an alpha at home. “Seven to six, Nansen.”
“We will not count ballots,” the captain stated. “Voting is not a Tahirian concept.”
“What?” Cleland yelled. “They’re not free, thinking beings?”
“They are. But they never signed our articles. They agreed to take part in our expedition for its duration, which they knew was unpredictable. It was a human idea, this is a human ship, and humans will decide.”
Nansen raised a hand to quell protests. “The poll stands at five to four, if anyone insists on a poll. Logic and equity are the real considerations. Everyone accepted — some of us reluctantly, but we accepted — that this new journey was for the purpose of carrying out research on the black hole and making contact with the intelligences. We have barely commenced. Our whole aim, our pledge to our race, who gave much to send us, has been to try to rind meaning in the universe. We may be on the verge of doing so. If we cannot stay loyal to that promise, how can we cope with space, or with an Earth that will be alien to us?
“If we continue the work, we can depart at any time: when we have learned enough, or when it does really seem foolhardy to linger. But once we turn back, then psychologically and morally — for we do have our Tahirian shipmates to consider — that is irrevocable.
“Pending such a change in circumstances, we will keep station here. I expect that everyone will work in good faith for our mission and for the general well-being.
“The meeting is ended.”
He strode out. His listeners sat wordless. After a while they began to stare at each other.
Cleland could not stay seated for long at a time. In his quarters, where things lay chaotically strewn and every display screen was dark, he poured whiskey for Brent and himself, and wandered around in front of his guest, talking in fragments. The engineer waited the spell out.
Finally he could say from his chair: “Yes, you and I know, Tim. The others don’t. They’re afraid to face the fact. Even Lajos — I think he and Dayan have quarreled over this, and I’ve tried him, hinted, but he hangs back. Probably he hasn’t yet shed his old dog-grateful attitude toward Nansen. So setting things right has to start with us two. We know.”
The low-pitched intensity caught at Cleland. He halted and looked into eyes that smoldered up at him. “What do you mean?” he asked thinly.
“We’re dealing with a madman.”
Cleland’s hand clenched around his tumbler. “A monster, at least. Doesn’t give a curse — about Jean — Did he ever in his life shed a tear?”
“A madman, I say. Maybe not by clinical tests, but for all practical purposes, like Mao Zedong in his later years. Lost in his fever dream of a scientific triumph. As if anything anybody could find here can ever matter to humankind, the way the knowledge and power we can bring will. He’ll gamble those, and us, to chase his fantasy — down into the black hole.”
“He … he did say … we can always leave if it — it’s not working out —”
“He lied.” Brent gestured. “Sit down and listen.” Jerkily, Cleland obeyed. “You know he lied. When will he admit it? After how many more deaths?”