Part 3 (1/2)
Paresi snorted impatiently. ”Which of two mutually exclusive facts are you going to reason from? That the s.h.i.+p can't fail? Then this failure isn't a failure; it's an external control. Or are you going to reason that the s.h.i.+p _can_ fail? Then you don't have to worry about an external force--but you can't trust anything about the s.h.i.+p. Do the trick that makes you happy. But do only one. You can't have both.”
Johnny began to laugh.
Ives went to him. ”Hey, boy--”
Johnny rolled over, swung his feet down, and sat up, brus.h.i.+ng the fat man aside. ”What you guys need,” Johnny chuckled, ”is a nice kind policeman to feed you candy and take you home. You're real lost.”
Ives said, ”Johnny, take it easy and be quiet, huh? We'll figure a way out of this.”
”I already have, scrawny,” said Johnny offensively. He got up, strode to the port. ”What a bunch of deadheads,” he growled. He went two steps past the port and grasped the control-wheel which was mounted on the other side of the port from the b.u.t.ton.
”Oh my G.o.d,” breathed Anderson delightedly, ”the manual! Anybody else want to be Captain?”
”Factor of safety,” said Hoskins, smiting himself on the brow. ”There's a manual control for everything on this scow that there can be. And we stand here staring at it--”
”If we don't win the furlined teacup....” Ives laughed.
Johnny hauled on the wheel.
It wouldn't budge.
”Here--” Ives began to approach.
”Get away,” said Johnny. He put his hands close together on the rim of the wheel, settled his big shoulders, and hauled. With a sharp crack the wheel broke off in his hands.
Johnny staggered, then stood. He looked at the wheel and then up at the broken end of its shaft, gleaming deep below the surface of the bulkhead.
”Oh, fine....” Ives whispered.
Suddenly Johnny threw back his head and loosened a burst of high, hysterical laughter. It echoed back and forth between the metal walls like a torrent from a burst dam. It went on and on, as if now that the dam was gone, the flood would run forever.
Anderson called out ”Johnny!” three times, but the note of command had no effect. Paresi walked to the pilot and with the immemorial practice slapped him sharply across the cheeks. ”Johnny! Stop it!”
The laughter broke off as suddenly as it had begun. Johnny's chest heaved, drawing in breath with great, rasping near-sobs. Slowly they died away. He extended the wheel toward the Captain.
”It broke off,” he said, finally, dully, without emphasis.
Then he leaned back against the hull, slowly slid down until he was sitting on the deck. ”Broke right off,” he said.
Ives twined his fat fingers together and bent them until the knuckles cracked. ”Now what?”
”I suggest,” said Paresi, in an extremely controlled tone, ”that we all sit down and think over the whole thing very carefully.”
Hoskins had been staring hypnotically at the broken shaft deep in the wall. ”I wonder,” he said at length, ”which way Johnny turned that wheel.”
”Counter-clockwise,” said Ives. ”You saw him.”
”I know that,” said Hoskins. ”I mean, which way: the right way, or the wrong way?”
”Oh.” There was a short silence. Then Ives said, ”I guess we'll never know, now.”