Big Al Mowrer chapter 8

BIG AL MOWRER chapter 8

It was 0630 on Monday. A siren screamed its warning. The tractor beam seized a battered ore-freighter and maneuvered it out into space, away from Tiberias Cylinder. When it was at a safe distance, the Onboard Computer blasted the jets and the ship was in a trajectory to Old Earth. In something as slow as the ore-freighter, it would take some time to complete the trip.

A few days earlier, Carl Sandor had seen a man slip furtively into the solarium. He seemed to be watching events across the corridor. A squad from Peace & Safety had stopped their floater in front of his cubicle.

Big Al Mowrer watched helplessly. The Consto was standing in front of the cubicle. Two others came out struggling with Big Al's wife Linda, who was putting up a good fight. The two children, Cleo and Dee, were kicking and biting and trying to get their mother free. The Consto coldly dropped Linda with his stunner. She collapsed on the street surface. He did the same to the children. The squad picked them up and dumped them on the floater. They sped away down the corridor.

Big Al ground his teeth in agony. He banged his head against the wall. What could he do? What could anyone do? No one broke out of detention. Not on Tiberias. Back on Earth, a man could run and hide and run some more - if you could believe those old tales. "Chevalachoy!" swore Big Al [in Basic, of course, something to do with horses]. On Tiberias there was no place to run and hide. Oh, there were "bolt holes" to be found. But with the yobs who hid out there, you might as well cut your own throat and be done with it.

After a few minutes, he went across to his cubicle. He punched in his code but the lock would not respond. "Oy!" he swore. He took out his knife, flipped out the screwdriver blade, and carefully unscrewed the panel. He searched for a pair of red and black wires, and shorted them with the knife blade. The door slid open. He reached out to touch the light control. Nothing happened. He went into the Necessary and touched the water control. Nothing. Dry. The air was silent and becoming stale.

He slammed his fist against the wall in frustration. Then he put his bruised knuckles in his mouth. With great care he slipped out into the corridor, looking right and left. Then started off to Tiny's cubicle.

Big Al and those like him are misfits on Tiberias. Not really happy in the present circumstances of a strictly ordered society such as this. Somewhat irreligious, even anti-religous at times. He is much like a Viking or a cowboy such as the videos portray. He loves his family with a passion. And he is loyal to his clan. He is highly intelligent, even brilliant. He can analyze a situation quickly. But for most of his short life, he and his clan have been fighting a war with the Establishment. He has worked at his job with particular skill. But, at the same time, made attacks, retreats, strategic maneuverings, all according to a strict set of rules which he followed without being consciously aware of this. Not willing to be told what to do, he and the clan had to use the last ounce of their energy to oppose what they viewed as oppression.

Big Al punched in the code and the door to Tiny's cubicle slid open. As he went in, he could see two others there.

"Where's Tiny?"

"They took him to detention," Wild Bill answered. "They took Wanda and the rug rats too."

"They've picked up everyone but us three," added Screwball.

"I knew about Cherokee and Peg Leg," Big Al said. [Peg Leg had refused a prosthetic, and wore an actual wooden peg leg, just as was done on Old Earth in the videos.] "They have our families! What can we do now? Anyone have an idea?"

They sat in silence for a time.

Finally Big Al stood up. "We might as well go in and give ourselves up."

"Yeah," said Wild Bill. "Maybe if we give them that 'bad little boy' routine, we can get off. It would be worth a try."

But deep down each had the feeling that this time would be different. What choice did they have? Not on Tiberias. Old Earth was just a fairy tale to tell the children. This was reality.


"Carl, I mentioned Ford Morris, who is a Consto in Peace & Safety. He is a brother in Christ. How would all of you like to go to the Hall of Justice and see where he works?"

We jumped at the chance. This would show us more about Tiberias.

Rod hailed a floater. We traveled some distance, then came to a building labeled simply: "Justice." Rod led us into the building, down a hallway, into a large room. We found a seat at the side, near the wall.

I looked around. It was a typical courtroom. There were some old fashioned touches, and a few that reminded me of the sailing ships in the videos.

"Carl, do you remember that man you saw in the solarium the first day, the one dressed as a technician?"

"Yes, Rod," I said.


"He and his Clan are to be deported to Earth. The trial is just about to begin. It is a sad case, but it has reached the point of no return."

"You said something about him being a misfit, of not being willing to adapt" Fred said.

"Yes. Tiberias has to function in a somewhat severe way. It's is like Hong Kong back on Earth in the 20th century. With such a dense population, everyone must cooperate. Some 'rights' must be given up for the good of all."

"I suppose that's 'civilization,'" I said.

"Yes," said Rod. "It allows us to coexist in a peaceful way."


Meanwhile, the other Clan members were seated in front, facing the judge. A court appointed attorney sat with them.

Wild Bill came in, along with Big Al and Screwball. The Hall of Justice was a place they knew well. They had been in Detention many times. They went up front to sit with the clan.

They saw "His honor," the Commissioner behind his desk. Big Al thought to himself they would get no respect or leniency from that "brass bound Achulo!"

Big Al's glance swung to the other chair. It was that dratted "head shrinker" who had interviewed him last week.. She really blew their chances.

The Provo rang his ship's bell [a real antique from Earth] to call this court into session. On the wall behind the Commissioner, a read-out appeared on the wall-screen listing past misdeeds by Big Al and the Clan.

"Atentu!" barked the Provo. "Ekstaru!" ["Attention!" Stand up!"]

Big Al and the Clan sprang to their feet. They waited. The hammer was about to fall.

"This court is in session," the Provo said. "The City of Tiberias Cylinder versus Al Mowrer and his cohorts. We are here to assign penalties. This matter has already been thoroughly studied and a just decision rendered. This comes as the climax of more than a year of careful investigation. Stand forth and hear your sentence."

"Al Mowrer," said the Commissioner, "you and your bunch of one-percenters [an old Earth term, meaning a severe troublemaker] are hereby terminated and deported. Tiberias will not deal with your kind screwing things up. Therefore, we have attached all your credit accounts. These will just pay for an ore-freighter we happen to have on hand; plus outfitting it for a one-way trip to Old Earth. You won't like the accommodations. If you and your bunch are lucky, Earth Control just might land you in a wilderness area. That's the chance you get. It's better than you deserve, considering all the trouble you have caused the City of Tiberias. We have programmed the ship's Onboard Computer to take you to Earth. We have locked the controls so you can't change any of the settings. You cannot alter your course. May God have mercy on your souls! Take them away."

"Wow!" said Big Al. "Maybe this is good. It might be the break we all wanted. Old Earth! My great-grandfather came from there. Maybe we are going home!"

"Move! Out the door!" Pain stabbed through his arm as the guard applied his "come along."

Big Al led the way as usual. They were marched to the shuttle in the corridor. The Clan was some thirty in all. The guards followed. When they were loaded, the shuttle moved off down the corridor, along the main passageway, straight to the Spaceport.

The guards jumped off and herded them through the Spaceport, through a doorway, past a bulkhead. And there, in the viewing window, was the ore-freighter.

They stood speechless! Finally Wild Bill spoke. "We are going to Earth in that? Why didn't we just cut our throats?"


"Rod," I said. "I don't understand. What's this about an ore-freighter? And I don't understand about them being deported to Earth, of all places. What will Earth do with them?"

"Carl, there are still wilderness areas on Earth. A few people wish to find happiness in a primitive living situation, such as the videos glorify. But the reality of this would be brutal. Think of facing the raw wilderness without any of the help we have grown accustomed to. No facilities, no power, no food synthisizers, nothing bur nature in the very raw."

"And the ore-freighter?" Fred asked.


"Well," Rod said, "remember that out here in Space metal is priceless. A ship is used until it just isn't cost effective to keep it in service. At this point it to goes to salvage to be scrapped. But we cannot waste anything. Salvage cuts up the scrapped ships, finds some good pieces and welds them together to create a hull that can be used. Now, find an engine that can be coaxed into life, and a guidance system that will work at least well enough to do the job. And the ship doesn't need to be airtight, except for the cabin in which the crew will live. This is the ore-freighter that Ford Prefect has been using for some years. Tiberias took it from him as payment to settle back taxes."


This is what Wild Bill and the others saw. Blasted, dented, patched, peeling plates, the cabin section made airtight with dumdum [a kind of metallic putty]. Even an ore-freighter must someday come to the end of the line.

Big Al banged his head against the wall. "Chevalachoy!" he swore. "Tell me this piece of junk is going to be coaxed to fly at all! And to Earth?"

They all stood in stunned silence.

"All right. Get on board. Let's go." The guards shoved them through the airlock, down the umbilical tunnel and into the crew compartment. This was the only part of the freighter that would hold air.


Ford Morris, the Consto, had followed them. Now he spoke. "Your personal things have all been packed aboard. There is air and water. If you are careful, these supplies should just about get you to Earth. You understand that we cannot do more. You wanted freedom and now you have it. Who knows what you will find on Earth? For whatever it is worth, we wish you well."

The Consto and the guards left. The door clanged shut and sealed. The die was cast.

The women and children were screaming and crying and holding each other. Big Al raised his fists to the heavens and shouted! "Jesus! God! If You are there! If there is any justice! Get us to Earth! Safely! Please!"

And perhaps God heard this.

Was this a prayer? Big All was not very religious. Yet, is there any person at all who never thinks of death and future life and 'God' and how all this fits into the big picture?

But was Big Al a believer? He had some contact with the Church of Christ on Tiberias. He worked with others who were believers. Down deep in his subconscious we would find the names of Jesus, God, etc. It would not be unbelievable, then, that in this extreme crisis in his life, facing danger to all he holds dear - to whatever degree he is capable - he would cry out to God.

As Rod would say: "Certainly God is aware of all that happens in His Universe."


The tractor beam seized the ore-freighter and moved it out a safe distance from Tiberias. The Consto touched a button. An electronic pulse went out. The Onboard Computer set about its duties. The jets blasted. The ship and its passengers were on their way to Earth.

The ship's engines were in bad repair. They emitted a low-pitched grinding squeal that set all their teeth on edge. Worse, there was a subsonic rumble that rose to a peak once each hour. It produced a queasy feeling in their bowels. Some of the children soon developed a diarrhea. There was one Necessary, enough for a normal crew of six to just get by. But not the thirty who were crowded into the small space.

As the numbness wore off, tempers became shorter. None of these were noted for their patience. On Tiberias, some of them would have just gotten drunk. Nothing stronger than water here. Nothing to dull the pain and to keep them from thinking and feeling.

Big Al took charge, as he usually did. Something had to be done.

"Hey, Linda! Break out those rations. Let's see what they left us. We got to get organized."

Two large boxes turned up. One was filled with cartons of water and small boxes of food concentrates. This would keep them alive for a few days.

The second box was filled with fresh fruit from hydroponics. A note enclosed said, "Greetings! We wanted to help. With Christian love - The Church of Christ."

Big Al shook his head. "Those Bible-thumpers! They are everywhere!" But he certainly looked happy. All that fruit tipped the balance. No one would go hungry.

"All right!" shouted Big Al. "Let's get it together! No use crying over spilled suds."

"Hey, Screwball," he said. "What can you do about those engines?"

"Sorry, Al. No air back there. And the housings around the engines are probably welded shut anyway. There's nothing we can do. Just got to live with it."

"Oy! Some choice!" said Big Al. "Okay. Like I said, we've got to get organized. That's the only way."

"Al, can't you do something?" said Wanda. "We're getting in each other's way."

"All right. This is how it's got to be. We will sleep in shifts. That way, while some are sleeping, the rest of us will try not to kill each other. Then it will be our turn in the sack.

"Screwball, flip a coin."

Big Al won the toss. He chose some others to make fifteen, including his own family. They squeezed into the bunks in the sleeping area as well as they could. Some had to sleep on the floor. The engines continued to make their hideous din.

Lois and Waneeta went into the galley area and began rationing out the food and water. The others tried to find some sort of comfortable place. No radio. No TV. Not even anything to read. Time hung heavy on their hands.

Screwball worked his way to the control panel.

"Al, there isn't much fuel left! It'll be a tricky landing with the Computer doing its best."

"Well, it's out of our hands. Big Al raised his hands to God and shouted: "God! Give us a landing we can walk away from! Put us in a wilderness area near where Greatgrandad came from!"

Everybody shouted: "Amen!"


The com screen lit up. The face of a young woman looked out.

"Approaching ship. This is Earth Control. Identify yourself."

Big Al ran to the com screen and touched the control pad. He stood where the camera could pick him up.

"Earth Control. This is an ore-freighter out of Tiberias. I am Big Al Mowrer, with my family and friends."

"Okay. That agrees with our information. Now hear this. I am taking control of your Onboard Computer. I have orders to land you as smoothly as possible, notice I said, as possible, in a remote area of what they once called West Virginia, in Usono. I understand you want freedom and a primitive life. You got it. I will try to land you in a treeless area that is mostly flat. There are a few big rocks that will damage your ship. But since it will never fly again, that's no problem. Better strap in and hold on tight!"

"Wow!" said Big Al. "My great-grandfather lived in West Virginia. Maybe we'll get lucky!"


Strap in," shouted Al! "It's going to be a rough ride!"

Mothers grabbed their children. Everyone strapped in and tied themselves in place as best they could to protect against the shock of crashing when they landed.

"I wonder where we are?" said Waneeta.

"I can't see the instruments. It will take us a few minutes to get down," said Big Al. "You can't hurry these things."

The retro jets fired a burst, slamming them against the restraints. A pot from the galley smashed against the bulkhead.

The retro jets fired again, and they were in Earth's atmosphere.

"Al," shouted Screwball, "I can smell hot metal! The ship's skin is heating up from the friction of the air!"

Then the steering jets fired, sluing the ore-freighter violently.

Suddenly the retro jets came on full! The ore-freighter reacted as though it had run into a stone wall. Then the engines died. The fuel was gone.

The ship dropped in a steep dive. It tore through the trees on the top of a high mountain. Then striking a hilltop, it bounced along before crashing down the slope into the meadow. It skidded along, throwing up clouds of dust and debris, rocks tearing at the metal hull. Finally as the ship smashed against the hillside, it rolled on its side.


It took a few minutes for everyone to realize what had happened and where they were. The floor was sideways and they could smell smoke and fumes. As they untied themselves and loosed the restraints, they fell against what had been the wall.

"Wow!" said Screwball. "I never want to do that again!"

Big Al took charge. He helped the others to find some sort of order. It took some time to get everyone settled down again. This had been a terrifying experience.

Big Al pushed his way through and tried to open the airlock.

"Tiny! Somebody! Help me get this door open!"

Tiny and Screwball rushed to help. They struggled and strained but the door would not budge.

"It's no use," said Tiny. "The ship must be laying on the door. We can't get it open."

Al, moved back, stood up, then banged his fist against the ship. "Screwball, this blasted ship is laying on the airlock. What can we do?"

"Let me see what I can find."

Screwball worked his way to the control panel. He braced himself so he could read the screen, then began touching keys. He was searching for some sort of schematic which might show a possible way of escape. A diagram filed the screen. He muttered and touched delete. Then a new diagram filled the screen. He continued searching for some time.

"Al, look here! There should be a service door beneath this floor panel."

Al looked closely at the screen, then began counting the floor panels. He took his knife and began taking out the fasteners which held it. It was sealed with dumdum and he peeled this away. He pried up the panel, then lifted it aside.


Screwball hunched down in the cavity and began peeling off the dumdum which sealed the service door. He unlocked the door, but he could not move it. Then he began kicking it with his feet. Finally he braced himself and pushed against it as hard as he could.

Nothing happened at first. Then slowly the door came open.

"Al! We're home free!"

"Well crawl on out and see what we've got," Al said.

Screwball stuck his head through the door. He could see the hillside. So he crawled across the side of the ship to the ground.

"Come on," he shouted. "Come out and see our new home!"

"Blowout!" Edna screamed. "I can feel the air!"

"Edna," said Big Al, "that's the wind just like I read about. There is nothing here to blow out. We're not on Tiberias. This is out in the wild wet woods of West Virginia as Granddad called it."

"Al, we've got to find shelter. We're out in the open. We can't live in the ship anymore. What'll we do?"

"Screwball, we just have to look around. There's an old house or barn or something around here. Maybe even a cave. We just have to find it."

"Hey everybody! Spread out and begin looking for some sort of shelter. We got to find a place where we can live."

(to be continued.)