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reply.
"Freethinker bastards!" It was Gates and one of hisfollowers.
"Watch this," Shelley said.
The catapult hurled its shot, which arced up and away.It followed an arching
path, due to the Coriolis effectcreated by the turning of the cylinder. In the
daylight Iannow realized that the catapult was not aimed straight atthe other
campsite but a good sixty degrees off.
He watched the bolt climb in a curving path at least it appeared that way. As
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it reached toward the relativeapogee in the center, the bolt slowed, then with
ever-increasing speed it started the long sloping glide backdown.
"Pretty good accuracy," Shelley said, "considering thephysics of shooting an
arrow inside a turning cylinder."
Ian watched with admiration as the bolt streaked inand landed near the
bull's-eyelike target created by thedissenters' campfire. There was a mild
scurrying and hehalf imagined that he could see several people look upand
shake their fists.
"You missed me" came the taunting cry from the other side.
"The forms these people are going to fill out will befascinating," Ellen
whispered.
Gates and his two assistants shook their fists at theother side, and calling
it quits, they went into the nearestbuilding to catch up on their sleep.
Ian looked around the cylinder, at least able to get agood chance to observe
his environment without the pres-sure of looking for Shelley. Its scale was
truly astounding,but what amazed Ian even more was the realization thatthis
was a small unit of early design. There were colonial cylinders of the same
general design that were fifty times as big in volume. He looked up again at
the lovely sweepof green overgrowth that covered nearly everything. Hewondered
how the unit managed to allow so much of itscarbon and nitrogen to be fixed in
such a profusion of plants, but then from his own rough estimate the
popu-lation here must only be a few percentile points of the bearing capacity.
So that great percentage no longer in existence must be a fair part of the
liquid and other ma-terials tied up in the unit. The thought suddenly
struckhim with chilling force. Back on Earth one could not easilygrasp the
total cyclic nature of life. He once had a profwho pointed out that,
statistically speaking, the next glassof water you drank would be carrying in
it a moleculefrom Caesar's body and from Cleopatra's urine, one ofhis
classmates had
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rudely interjected.
But here the system was closer. These people, Gates,Ileia, a good part of
their very bodies were made up ofthe component chemicals that had formed their
grandsiresbefore the coming of the Holocaust.
As a historian the thought awed him. But there was a more overriding concern
at the moment. He was simplyexhausted.
"I'm heading back to the ship. If you people stay, Iwould suggest that you do
so as a group. I'll send
Richarddown to take a look at these people."
"I take it we're staying for a while?" Shelley asked.
"Well, I guess that's what we've come sixty light-yearsfor. We'll stay a week
or so to gather the necessary data,document this place, then we'll push on."
"I want to get my surveys out," Ellen said excitedly."This is going to be
fascinating. I should get at least twoor three publications out of this one."
"And I think I'll get something, as well," Stasz saideagerly, as he edged off
to one side of the group and thenturned to plunge into the overgrowth.
"I'm going back to sleep aboard ship. I don't want any of these people allowed
aboard the vessel," Ian com-manded. "If both sides met there, we would be the
onesto suffer. So they stay out. I would suggest that we getStasz to rig up a
simple security surveillance system onthe approaches to the air lock."
"I'll let him know when he gets back," Shelley said.
Ian turned and started back up the path. He gave aquick scan up, looking for
incoming. Their catapult wasvisible but it was unattended.
"Get some rest, Dr. Lacklin," Shelley called. "You'vehad a hard night."
He looked back at Shelley. She had that straight, of-ficial look about her,
all professional.
"Ah, yeah, thanks, Shelley." He searched awkwardlyfor words, "Yes. You did a
good job."
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"I doubt if you did." Ellen sniffed.
"Ah, shut up," Ian grumbled, and he pushed off backto the ship.
"All secured for undocking," Stasz's voice crackledover the intercom.
Ian felt the gentle nudge of the ship as the maneuveringthrusters pushed them
free and away.
He watched on the aft monitor as the bulk of the cyl-inder dropped astern.
"I still think they're the craziest assholes I've ever laideyes on," Richard
said, resuming their conversation.
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"Don't say assholes, Richard," Ellen replied, "I've heard that word shouted at
least ten thousand times in the last two weeks."
"Okay, bastards."
"Richard!"
"I'm throttling up," Stasz said. A faint pulsing rumbleechoed through the ship
and the slight tug of gravity in-creased. Funny, he barely noticed the gravity
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