Ten days, twenty. Thirty. With Cluny-ann, Ker-jon pored over the old books. Terms swam through his head madly—vectors, constants, laws of thermodynamics, others. He could not hope to understand the vast amount of theory behind them, not now, not yet. But it did not matter. He sought a working knowledge, an engineer's knowledge, the knowledge of a physical-technician, when there had not been a physical-technician on the Ark for generations. More particularly, a physical-technician bent upon temporary destruction....
Wi'son-gil kept him informed of Flam-harol's new regime. Discontent everywhere. A riot in the 'ponics room—quelled. Another in astro—also quelled. But discontent hovered everywhere, with no adequate channel through which to manifest itself. It faded, became bickering; Flam-harol was more powerful every day. Probably, he considered himself benevolent—
Green-uniformed albinos shuffled about the corridors. Their too-white skin looked sickly under the night-lights, but they seemed cocky. Ker-jon ducked around a corner, pulling Cluny-ann with him. "Careful—that one almost spotted us!"
They crept forward, stalking silently on bare feet. Ker-jon had his key to the 'ponics room, and his heart was pounding furiously when they reached the door. What if Flam-harol had had the lock changed? He chuckled softly. He'd been reading too much about the physical sciences; no one knew how to change a lock! Oh, they could oil it if it clogged with rust, but that was all. Either the old lock remained, or no lock at all.
He inserted his key, twisted, heard the tumblers fall. The door swung in silently.
Past the rows of squat, ugly 'ponics tanks they walked, the dank vegetation smell heavy on the air. Moisture dotted the water pipes with gleaming droplets, some unknown liquid bubbled in a vat nearby.
They paused at a great shining mound of machinery. "It's called a generator," Ker-jon said. "But don't ask me what it does. I only know it's crucial. Umm-mm, listen to that."
The machine throbbed. He'd worked in the 'ponics room as a bio-tech, and he'd always taken the huge machine and its humming noise for granted. It was there, and that meant it had a purpose. It functioned; all you had to do was put oil into the little hole whenever the sound rose to a shriek. But now the purpose meant something. This generator kept the tanks going, producing air, food, water....