A Large Anthology of Science Fiction

by Jerry

  “Well—?” questioningly from Ed King, who stood near, as the other pushed back the sheets of paper on which he had just completed a long series of mathematical calculations. “How do we stand?”

  Josh looked up, stared steadily at his companion, a serious expression in his dark brown eyes, seemingly hesitant about speaking his thoughts.

  “Well, what have you figured out?” Ed spoke up impatiently; “are we on the way to Heaven, or—?”

  “Ed, I’m afraid we’re in for it. I’m loth to tell you where we are going; but we’re not bound for our world. In fact, we’re not going anywhere in particular—just going.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that we are in His hands—God help us.”

  Ed stared at Josh in an uncomprehending manner, a look of terror gradually bulging his eyes wide open.

  “We are now about thirty thousand miles from the earth,” explained Josh to his terrified companion, “and still receding with the rate due to an initial velocity of 6.95 miles per second. As near as I can figure out, the sudden explosion of an enormous amount of the liquid propellant, coming just as we were already moving through the vacuous atmosphere at twelve hundred miles an hour clip, shot up far out into space. Lucky we weren’t killed outright—perhaps unlucky,” he added gloomily. “A trifle larger explosion, or at the rate of 6.98 miles per second, and we should have left the gravitational pull of the earth forever—although we are just as bad off either way. The Meteor is now a satellite of the earth—at least for a time.”

  “But isn’t there some way we may guide her back to the earth?” came croakingly from Ed, who seemed to shrink within himself.

  Josh shook his head mournfully. “None that I can see. This vessel was not designed for that purpose. If I start the rocket tubes again we’ll only shoot along faster, and leave the earth altogether. At present I can see no way to change our line of movement.”

  The expression of wild terror in Ed’s countenance heightened, and he turned away. “God, but I’m thirsty,” he exclaimed presently; “I must have a drink.”

  “Wait, Ed; go slow,” Josh cried, jumping up excitedly; the effort bouncing him clear to the ceiling, from which he fell slow-motion-like, back to the floor, bewildered and surprised at his inability to control his motions. “You know our supply is very limited. We’ve got to conserve, or——”

  “I DON’T give a damn—the sooner A over with it the better. Besides I’m terribly thirsty and I’ve got to have a drink.” He looked belligerently at his companion.

  “Well, you know what I mean, Ed.

  I realize you’re thirsty after your loss of blood; and so am I. But we must ration our supply sensibly. Otherwise——” with this, Josh with some difficulty got between Ed and the all too mournfully small container. Carefully he drew a small quantity of the precious fluid and handed it to Ed, who drank eagerly. Josh drew an equally small portion and drank himself.

  Then they ruefully examined their all too meager larder. Not counting on an extended trip, they had taken along a limited quantity of food. In fact, Ed had thought it foolish to take along anything but a few sandwiches at the most. But Josh, who was of an extremely provident nature, had decided it prudent, in the possibility of a forced landing, to take along a small supply of food and water.

  A careful analysis of their dreadful situation disclosed that, with extreme husbanding, they had food for a few days, water for only about a week, and, providing nothing went wrong with the air-conditioning machinery, enough air and reserve oxygen to last twelve days at the very outside!

  FARTHER and farther from the planet circled the two unfortunate men in their craft, their little world an infinitesimal speck in the immensities of space.

  For days it had now been going on; the same cramped life, the same dreadful doom clutching at their hearts. To the despairing aviators it seemed that they were besieged—the mighty power of the infinite outside grimly waiting for their end.

  The huge ball of the earth, gradually shrinking in size, hung in the dark depths of space; so tantalizingly near it seemed. It loomed big and beautiful, the ever changing outlines on its surface appearing, disappearing; now becoming sharp, here and there hazy and melting. The smaller ball of the moon seemed pale and insignificant beside the kaleidoscopic aspect of the brilliantly colorful primary.

  But the two doomed pioneers now had no eye nor thought for the magnificent spectacle thus vouchsafed to no other living men. Hunger and thirst were tearing at their vitals. Stark fear and lingering death within: pitiless, cold space without.

  Of the two, Josh Malcolm was holding out better, as men of stronger mind and nerve usually do. He took the dreadful predicament with remarkable stoicism. The other, however, was becoming increasingly restless; stark terror stamping him with its indelible mark.

  Carefully and meticulously Josh rationed out their dreadfully fast dwindling supply of food and water; the while his companion watched his every move with jealous eyes. Morsel by morsel, drop by drop; the tiniest crumb carefully retrieved, their tongues licking the smallest drop.

  “I can’t stand this confounded thirst any longer,” Ed exclaimed often and again, an insane look in his eyes.

  More than once Josh forcibly had to restrain the thirst-maddened man from draining the pitifully limited supply still on hand. At times they came near to blows. Josh slept fitfully with one eye literally open, the precious remainder of food and water at his side. More than once he barely prevented the other from helping himself while he slept, awakening just in time to frustrate Ed’s selfish attempt. The last time he was forced to strike the maddened man a sharp blow on the face to cause him to desist; and a fight was narrowly averted.

  “We might as well eat and drink what is left,” Ed said, “and end it all the sooner. I can’t stand it.”

  To these demands Josh was adamant. His was the type of character that holds out unflinchingly to the end, never giving up. He continued a close watch on his companion.

  Interminably the long minutes and the hours dragged by: each minute a day; each hour a year. Would the end never come?

  THREE days since their last crumb had been consumed. They were famished and weak from hunger. A few small rations of water still remained to them, and when that was gone . . . Already they were drawing on their last reserve of compressed air and oxygen. The air inside was none too pure.

  Every plan of forcing their living tomb earthward was futile; in fact there was no way for them to do so. They had no equipment even for going outside—no such contingency had been counted on by the inventor. The end now could not be far off.

  Josh still kept up his daily observations, doggedly making calculations. He found that the radial velocity of the Meteor was gradually diminishing to zero; by this time having receded to about 300,000 miles from the earth—fortunately in a direction away from the orbit of the moon.

  Then one day, as days were counted by his chronometer, his face lightened up. Eagerly he went over his equations.

  “Ed, he shouted joyfully, “we are drawing closer to the earth.”

  Ed stirred himself from his torpor; advanced eagerly toward Josh. “Are you sure, are you sure?” His hands opened and closed spasmodically.

  And then, after a further look at his calculations, Josh’s face fell in hopeless dejection. “I’m sorry to have raised false hopes, Ed,” he spoke sadly; “but I guess I rejoiced too soon. I find that though our centrifugal force is not equal to the gravitational pull of the earth, and though as a consequence we are now beginning to fall back to it—I fear too slowly to save us. It will take about a week before we approach the upper atmosphere, close enough for our wings to take hold and maneuver a landing. By that time . . . I don’t think we shall be alive.”

  It was true. At first imperceptibly, then at an accelerating rate, the Meteor was drawing closer and closer to the earth. The initial momentum of its radial component was exhausted. Gravitation was now forcing it earthward; at first slowly, then fast
er and faster; until it would approach the planet with the same velocity of 6.95 miles per second with which it departed.

  Josh took careful stock of their remaining few drinks of water and small supply of air. “Only enough air for five days at the most, Ed. We may last without food—but the water and air . . . Not enough for two. We are doomed!”

  “You mean—our present supply is just enough for—for—that one could survive?”

  Josh nodded. “I think so.”

  “But no chance for the two of us?” The other shook his head negatively. Silently he turned to one of the ports and stood staring long and hopelessly at the pitiless emptiness without

  He heard a movement behind him, and wheeled around.

  “I’VE just got to have a drink of that water.”

  “Not time yet, Ed; in three hours.”

  “But I tell you I must have a drink.”

  “In three hours we shall each take two swallows. For God’s sake, Ed, keep your

  senses.”

  “Well then, let’s toss up: it’s either you or I. There is not enough air and water for two; that would give one of us at least a chance to come through.” And he looked craftily at Josh, greed and mad cunning playing on his features. “Let’s draw; and whoever loses can put himself out with your automatic. I’d rather die than go on any longer where there is no hope.”

  Josh shook his head. “I’ll not commit murder or suicide. It’s share and share alike to the last drop and the last breath.”

  “You’re a fool and a coward,” hissed Ed.

  Josh refrained from answering, and turned to look out of the window port.

  Suddenly Ed threw himself upon him and snatched at his automatic, the only firearm in their possession, which Josh had been guarding carefully. They grappled and, both being etherially light and unsteady of foot, fell to the floor. In the struggle which ensued, Josh wrenched the automatic from the other’s hand, and it fell like a feather to the floor out of the reach of either.

  Weak though both were, they battled with frenzied energy, each striving to pick up the fallen weapon. They were about evenly matched for weight and strength. Josh drove a hard right at Ed, who dodged the blow which was absurdly ineffective due to their lack of weight, causing the former, however, to slip to one knee. In a flash the other leaped for the automatic, but was tripped headlong as Josh entwined his arms football fashion around the frenzied man’s legs.

  Over and over the two men rolled, bouncing, cursing and yelling, striving for mastery. The none too fresh air made them gasp for breath. Their struggle was a tragi-comedy-farce, ludicrous in the extreme; for at their distance from the earth they were practically weightless, their weight being only about 1/5800 as much as at its surface. They jumped and bounced and floated about this way and that, locked in each other’s arms; their mightiest blows landing feather-like, their quickest motions ridiculously slow. It was like some silly dream, without control or effectiveness. In their ineffectual struggles Ed happened to bounce clear to the other end of the cabin, and Josh retrieved the automatic.

  Ed rose slowly to his feet, eyes bloodshot, features distorted with meanness. Slowly he backed away and stood in the comer of the cabin, cowed into furious submission by the levelled automatic in the hands of his companion, who was facing him with set jaw and glinting eye.

  “Stand still and don’t move, Ed; or, by Heaven, so long as you are determined that one of us shall pass out—you will be the one. You’re a dastardly coward, a treacherous hyena. For shame: I thought you were a man!”

  Ed cowered sullenly, somewhat brought to his senses. “Oh, all right; have it your way. Soon we’ll see each other in hell anyway.”

  “Yes, I will have my way. The least we can do in our terrible circumstance is to die like men, not like wolves. And now let us understand each other: At the least sign of treachery on your part again, I’ll not hesitate, but shall shoot to kill.”

  FROM then on it became a strange contest, almost a curious form of siege. The two men kept a wary eye on each other, speaking but little, coming near only when it was time for Josh to pass out the scanty swallow or two of water. Ed would gulp his portion; then greedily look on as Josh slowly sipped his own portion, allowing the precious liquid to trickle slowly drop by drop past his swollen lips into his parched system.

  The lack of sufficient food and water was telling heavily. Their mouths and throats were leathery and burning dry. To speak even was an effort. Faces were gaunt and drawn; bodies thin and weak from hunger and thirst.

  At times, and with increasing frequency, Josh himself felt that something within him must snap. Often he caught himself slipping into momentary lapses of consciousness, only to arouse himself with a jerk.

  For he could not trust the slowly gathering insanity of the man before him. In their desperate plight the true character of the other was showing itself—his selfishness, his greed and ruthlessness. One never knows what lurks in a man until put to the test

  That Ed King was determined to survive if possible at his expense Josh now knew only too well. Except when asleep or in a stupor, the half insane man watched Josh’s every move, never taking his eyes off him, although pretending to appear disinterested. Full well Josh knew that even if he did agree by lot as to who should remain alive with the last of their water and air, the other would not abide by the draw.

  As things stood their situation was absolutely hopeless. If only they had provided themselves with a slightly larger supply of water and oxygen, just a few more days supply—foolish if—there would have been strong hope for both of them. But now, a horrible death for the two was inescapable, days ere their craft crashed to the earth with no one alive to control its downward plunge—unless—unless one or the other. . . .

  Horrible thought! He could not bear it. His fibre was not made of that stuff. Countless of his forebears, long since gone and forgotten, had died for their comrades and for each other, for their country, for a cause. Into his innermost nature heroism had been burned on many a battlefield. He could not turn coward now.

  And yet, life was sweet. He was so young. He hated to die thus. What had he done to deserve such a horrible fate! All his hopes and ambitions, all the wonderful things he had planned to do, to enjoy. He looked down at his feet, his legs; he studied his fingers, his hands; felt of his chest, his face—what precious things they were. And now, he would soon be forced to give up his body, so full of life and vibrant desire.

  ED sat sullenly on the opposite side, mumbling and cursing to himself. Josh, too, was too weak to do more than sit and hope—hope for what! What miracle could happen!

  Perhaps he was a fool. Perhaps . . . he ought to save himself, the only last desperate thing to do. Had he not always heard it said that self-preservation is the first law of nature? Assuredly the other would not hesitate a moment if the automatic were in his hand! Why not? Did not the other, by his very act of treachery, forfeit his life?—he, himself win the right to live? Was it wrong under the circumstance?—what would the world have to say about it? what would anybody else do if he were in his place? Or was he a fool to save his soul and lose his life!

  Confusedly his tortured mind spun round and round the treadmill of his thoughts; his soul bitter as gall, his heart full of rebellion at his terrible fate.

  No! He could not do it. The instinct of self-sacrifice and mutual aid, developed through the ages, and which had made man great, setting him above the beasts, was very strong in him, stronger than the instincts of the tiger and the wolf. He would not purchase his life at the expense of another’s! He would die like a man!

  HE was very weak and tired. He dared not allow himself the recuperative powers of undisturbed sleep. In that he was much worse off than his companion who perforce slept more than he. Josh had to snatch his sleep in fitful dozes, automatic always in hand, weakened senses on edge.

  During his dozes he dreamed a great deal. Always he was drinking great drafts of cold water, breathing deeply of fresh air, or feas
ting luxuriously. He dreamed he was at home. Through the open windows, looking out on their beautiful garden, delightful breezes blew, wafting to his nostrils the sweet smell of green and growing things. In front of him, piled high, was a table full of food, the huge pile on his own plate seemingly growing bigger as he gorged and gorged, his wife urging him to eat, saying there was plenty more. And at his side was a tall goblet of sparkling water which he emptied continuously, yet somehow never seemed to have enough.

  Something made him open his eyes, he knew not what. He had forgotten himself, had fallen asleep. Over him, looming huge and gigantic to his startled senses, stood King, hand upraised, clutching a large wrench, ready to strike.

  Instinctively he ducked, and received a blow on the shoulder. Before his enemy could deliver another blow, he grappled with him, striving to pull his automatic; but the other was too quick for him, and prevented him from firing. Arms wound around each other, they began to enact the same tragi-farcical dance; Ed struggling to free his right arm which held the wrench, the other striving to employ his firearm.

  Josh fought desperately with the frenzied half-mad King, who kicked and clawed and gouged and bit. In their struggles the automatic was discharged; a stream of bullets pierced the madman’s body.

  Josh tore himself loose. His enemy lay quite still. He never regained consciousness.

  Exhausted from the desperate struggle for his life, and weak from lack of nourishment, Josh lay down and fell into a long needed sleep.

  ALONE in his silent tomb. A motionless figure, the upper part of his lifeless body and his face covered, was outside, moving with the Meteor. Poor Ed. From the sunward side, the fierce rays of the sun illumined every nook and cranny of the interior; oddly enough it seemed, for the brilliantly star-studded blackness of space showed against the ports.

  Inside, the air was close and fetid, although, thanks to the radiant energy of the sun, comfortably warm. He was on his last reserve of compressed air and oxygen.