by Anthology
"And another five," said Larrabee.
For the first time, Jasperson hesitated. "You sure you mean it, professor? I kind of hate to clean you out, especially because I doubt if you can afford it."
"Suppose you let me be the judge of what is, after all, a private matter?"
"All right, it's you that will go bankrupt, not me. And another five."
"See you, and raise you five!"
* * * * *
Jasperson sat back and pondered, his cold eyes calculating. "Now let's review the situation, just among friends. The professor's a smart man, and he isn't rich. He saw me draw one card, so he can make a pretty good guess what I probably hold, if I drew the right card, but he's playing a pat hand, and playing as if he meant it. Well, I've put a lot of credits in that pot, but I never did believe in throwing good money after bad, even in a friendly game. I quit."
"What? You mean you're going to drop out without even seeing me?"
"I know when I'm licked. Five credits is five credits, even to me." He threw down his cards and reached to gather in the deck.
Slowly Professor Larrabee raked in the chips, as Jasperson went on complacently.
"That's the only principle a practical man can work on. Know when you're licked. Get all the facts, analyze all the data, and then act on the logical conclusion, no matter how much you may hate to. It was clear to me that you must have drawn a pat flush that would top my straight, so I simply decided not to waste any more money."
"Thank you, Mr. Jasperson. I appreciate the gift."
"It was no gift. You had me beat."
"Did I? Only if you had all the facts, only if you analyzed all the data, and only if you reached the correct conclusion. Perhaps you ought to see what I held."
Deliberately he turned over his hand and spread the cards.
Jasperson jumped to his feet in a rage. "But that's a handful of junk! Not even a pair! You held a bust, and I had you beat!"
"Certainly. But you didn't know it. Without all the facts, you acted on a faulty conclusion."
Breathing noisily, his plump face flushed, Jasperson smashed his fist into his pile of chips and scattered them to the floor.
"A pure bluff! I hate bluffing!"
"Then you miss a great deal of fun in life," said Larrabee calmly. "I find it dull just to analyze data and then bet on a sure thing. I like a little excitement."
Slowly the financier sank back into his chair. He gulped in a large breath of air and tried to steady himself, a sickly smile around his mouth.
"Excuse me, Professor. But you took me by surprise." Hands trembling, he began to shuffle the deck.
There was a knock at the door, and a crewman entered.
"What is it, Stacey?" said Captain Evans.
"Chief Wyman is waiting to see you in your quarters, sir."
With a sigh of relief, the Captain turned in his few chips. "Time for me to quit, anyway."
His face still red, Jasperson looked up hopefully. "Shall I come with you? Any way I can be of use?"
"No thank you, Burl. I'll leave you to your little game."
* * * * *
In the Captain's quarters, Chief Wyman was pacing the floor.
"Sir!" he burst out. "This is it! We've hit the Thakura Ripples!"
"Impossible, Wyman! It's too soon. What's happened?"
"You told me to report as soon as we ran across anything suspicious, sir. Well, look what our screen has been picking up."
He handed over a plastic record tape, perforated by minute notches which outlined an unsystematic, jagged line of peaks and hollows.
"We've been getting this stuff all evening."
"Doesn't seem to mean anything. It doesn't show any sort of pattern."
"No, sir, and it may not mean anything, but it's different from what we've been getting up till now. And then another thing. It's probably not serious, but the number ten Pile has started to heat."
"Begun to heat? What's wrong with Pile Ten? One of your men been getting careless?"
"I'm positive not, sir. I have complete confidence in all of them."
Captain Evans studied the record tape, a worried frown on his forehead.
"It's just possible, I suppose, that the Ripples--Is Pile Ten heating fast?"
"No, sir. It's still below the critical level, and of course we're putting in dampers."
"I wish we knew something definite about the Thakura Ripples," the Captain burst out, "what they are, what they do, what they look like, and how they affect our atomic Piles! If only Thakura were still a sane man, and could finish up his calculations!"
"Maybe Thakura was crazy to start with," said Chief Wyman, "or maybe the Ripples drove him crazy. I don't know. But I do know Pile Ten is heating."
"Well, keep watching it. Double the checks on the other Piles, and let me know of even the slightest rise."
As soon as the door had closed, Evans opened the desk panel and buzzed Operations.
"Pilot Thayer? Captain Evans here. I am about to give you an order. As soon as you have executed it, come at once to my cabin, and bring Navigator Smith with you. Here it comes. Reduce speed immediately, repeat immediately, to one-half, repeat one-half. That's all."
* * * * *
Nobody felt the alteration in the progress of the Star Lord. Within the metal casing of the ship nothing was changed. The sunny scenes in the walls were just as bright, and the synthetic light of the slowly moving stars at night was just as soothing. For the passengers, the black menace outside the ship did not exist. Because change of speed cannot be felt in hyperspace, they had no way of realizing that the Star Lord had slackened her pace and was feeling her way cautiously as a blind man to avoid the ominous barriers of the Thakura Ripples.
On their way to their cabins that night, there were a few people who noticed that the bulletin which detailed the day's run had not been posted on the board, but they wondered only for a moment why it had been omitted, and then forgot the matter.
Going in to breakfast next morning, Burl Jasperson stopped to read the bulletin as usual, to find how many light years distance had been put behind him in this interminable journey, and he clenched his fist at finding a blank board before him.
Abruptly turning his back on the dining room, he proceeded straight to the Captain's quarters, where Stacey stopped him in the anteroom.
"Where's Captain Evans?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Jasperson. The Captain left orders he was not to be disturbed."
"He'll see me. Let him know I'm here."
"I'm sorry, sir. My orders were, nobody was to be admitted. He was very specific."
Stacey did not budge, but the inner door swung open and the Captain's tired face peered out.
"You have a very penetrating voice, Burl. I suppose you might as well come in. It's all right, Stacey. Stand by."
He moved to let Jasperson enter, and closed the door.
About the desk sat Chief Engineer Wyman, Chief Pilot Thayer, and Chief Navigator Smith, all studying a chart laid out before them, and making computations. They looked up at the interruption.
"What's going on here?" said Jasperson. "If you're having a conference of some kind, I should be in on it."
"Just routine work, Burl. What is it you want?"
"Somebody is getting careless. The bulletin of yesterday's run has not been posted. It's little things like that that make all the difference in the reputation of a shipping line. Somebody ought to be reprimanded. What was the day's run, by the way? Well, speak up, Josiah! I'm waiting."
Evans reached for a sheet of paper from the desk and silently handed it across. Jasperson looked at the figures, frowned, and spoke angrily.
"Have your computers broken down, Captain Evans? Or is this a joke? Why, that's only about two-thirds our usual distance. At this rate it will take us from now to eternity to arrive."
"You'd better sit down, Burl." The Captain looked steadily at him. "Those figures explain why I ordered that the bulletin was not to be posted. Not one p
assenger out of a hundred would have noticed much change in the figures, but I do not want to alarm even that one in a hundred. I have ordered the ship to proceed at half-speed."
"What? Have you lost your mind?"
"We are approaching the Thakura Ripples. It just isn't safe to go any faster."
Expelling a long breath, Jasperson spoke more calmly.
"That means we'll be late in reaching Almazin III?"
"Three or four days, perhaps, not more. Eventually we'll get through this danger zone, and then we can resume speed."
"But we can't be late, Captain Evans! Surely you haven't forgotten that we're out after the Blue Ribbon? The Light Line's ships have made it in forty-three days, and we've got to do it in forty-two or less. This trip is a matter of prime importance to the Star Line, and a delay of even three days would keep us from breaking the record. I thought you understood all that?"
* * * * *
Sighing, the Captain shook his head. "I know all that. But we are in dangerous regions, and I can't risk my ship just for a piece of silk! Last night Pile Ten started heating. It's still hot, and we may have to expel it. I hadn't expected to reach the Ripples so soon, and had even hoped we could avoid them entirely, but evidently the limits of the band haven't been charted very accurately. The only safe thing is to go slow."
"But the Ripples are imaginary! Why do you think we've hit them?"
"There's the number Ten Pile."
"But why should only that one out of the twenty-four be affected? And even if it is heating, that's no good reason for slackening speed."
Captain Evans glared back at the plump little man, then his eyes wavered, and his fingers fiddled uncertainly with the papers on his desk. His chief officers were watching him intently. At last he straightened his shoulders and spoke sternly.
"Mr. Jasperson. Surely it will not be necessary to remind you that I am the Captain of this ship. I am in sole command. Is that correct?"
"Yes, but--"
"Would you seriously advise me to go contrary to my own knowledge, my own instinct? To run this ship into an area of danger, to risk the lives of the passengers, all for a piece of ribbon? Would you want to take the responsibility of giving me such an order, even if I should agree?"
As Jasperson looked around at the watchful faces of the Engineer, the Pilot, and the Navigator, some of the belligerence left his voice.
"Certainly not, Josiah! And anyway, it's not your knowledge I'm quarreling with. If you run the ship according to the facts, you'll do all right. It's when you let your judgment be influenced by your imagination that I object. But by all means, do as you think best. When the Star Line loses confidence in its Captains, they replace them. I'll look in again, if I may, later in the day."
When the door had closed behind him, Pilot Thayer shook his head wonderingly. "You'd think he ruled the universe!"
"He's a man of very limited imagination," said the Captain. "But never forget, he wields a great deal of power. Now, are your orders clear? Smith, you'll continue your charting."
"I'm doing my best, Captain, but what am I charting? Sometimes I wonder if maybe your friend Jasperson isn't right. If the Ripples are imaginary, maybe I'm getting gray hairs trying to make a map of something that isn't there!"
"Chart it anyway! We can't take chances. Wyman, I'm not a bit satisfied with the way Pile Ten is behaving. It should have cooled to normal before now. Watch it. If we have to dump it, we want to act before it gets too hot. Anything else?"
"One other thing, sir," said Engineer Wyman, pointing to the diagram of the ship which hung on the wall. "Pile Ten is located just below Lifeboat C, and the radiation index of Boat C is getting a little high."
"That's bad. Well, keep shoving in the dampers, and keep me posted."
After they had gone, he sat for a while at his desk, studying the data on the papers before him. He paced the room for a few minutes, then paused to pick up the little red volume of Ley's Space Ships. He had no need to open it. It fell open of itself at the well-read page, and his eyes rested for one rich moment on the words: Captain: Josiah Evans.
What name, he wondered, feeling almost physically sick with uncertainty, what name would be printed in the next edition?
* * * * *
The orchestra played melodiously at lunch time. The chef had produced delicacies even more delectable than usual, and at each table the waiters poured sparkling white wine into long-stemmed glasses, while murmuring softly, "Compliments of the Captain!"
"Is this a special occasion?" asked Tanya.
"Not that I know of, miss."
"Every meal feels like a special occasion," said Alan, "because I get to talk to you."
"Sh-h! Here come the Halls."
Tom and Dorothy flitted in to the table, hand in hand, still absorbed in the wonder of being together, scarcely aware of the world about them, then left, without finishing their dessert. Alan and Tanya looked after them with affectionate amusement, but Professor Larrabee seemed withdrawn and a little sad, as though they evoked memories of a time now lost to him forever.
"They make me feel so old!" said Tanya.
"And lonely?"
"Perhaps, a little. They seem so sure, somehow, that all the rest of their lives will be just as happy as this, always."
"And why not?" said Professor Larrabee.
The orchestra swayed into a final soft chord, and immediately a voice spoke from a loudspeaker in the ceiling.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Conversation stopped, the room became quiet.
"Ladies and gentlemen. The customary lifeboat drill will be held this afternoon at 1600 hours. The attendance of all passengers is requested."
The voice stopped, the orchestra resumed its playing, and the passengers sipped their coffee.
"I wonder why he said 'customary'?" said Tanya. "We've been out about three weeks, and this will be the first drill we've had. Do you suppose something is wrong?"
"I'm afraid your sense of the dramatic gets the better of you," said Alan. "What could be wrong with the Star Lord?"
"Maybe her name," murmured Professor Larrabee, and his eyes looked haunted.
* * * * *
Solitary at his table, Burl Jasperson sipped at a glass of ice water as he pondered. For the first time in his life he was not quite sure what course to follow. He wanted that Blue Ribbon for the Star Line, and yet--he did not know what to do. While he listened to the announcement of the lifeboat drill, his lip twisted in contempt. Just like Josiah Evans, he thought, to be over-cautious and run the risk of starting a panic.
Still thinking, he left the dining room and went to the main lounge to study the illuminated map of the ship. The three-dimensional panorama showed the slim and elegant body of the Star Lord, tapered like a silver spindle. Six small ships, three on each side of the long axis, each capable of carrying 250 people, were fastened into her hulk. Seemingly a part of the ship itself, their outer walls forming a part of the ship's wall, they were designed to be detached at the touch of a button, and launched into space as free craft.
When the warning bells rang, he joined the crowd of passengers who were assigned to Boat F, peered at the boat through the transparent panel, and listened attentively to the instructions. It was Steward Davis, he noted approvingly, who was in charge.
"Passengers will file in through the usual port and walk to the farthest unoccupied seat, and buckle themselves into place. They have nothing further to do. Crewmen will take care of the mechanics of detaching and launching the boat. You will note that there are no separate cabins, only rows of seats as in the primitive airplanes, but you will find this no real discomfort, since the boat would undoubtedly be picked up after a very short interval by some alerted space liner."
Jasperson raised his voice above the crowd's hum.
"What about provisioning? Are the boats stocked on Y-port?"
"No, Mr. Jasperson, except for food concentrates, and one air tank which is placed there for the greater comfort of the crewmen who
must go in to clean or to make minor adjustments. The boats are not fully provisioned until the need arises. After all, we don't want to invite trouble, do we?"
People laughed appreciatively.
"No," he went on, "if there should be an emergency, we have specially trained crewmen whose job it is to stock reserves of air and water. They would go to work as automatically and efficiently as machines. Any other questions?"
Jasperson lingered after the indifferent crowd, to inspect the boat more closely, then slouched away.
* * * * *
All that afternoon he prowled the ship, trying to make up his mind. He stopped now and then to question a business acquaintance, ask a journalist his opinion, and he quizzed Larrabee again, more sharply than before, about the hypothetical Ripples. He kept moving, and as he walked he calculated, bringing to bear all the power of a mind which he believed to be logical, and which his financial success had proved to be keen and intelligent. All his life he had trusted his judgment, and it had rarely failed him--barring accidents like that unfair poker game. At last, as the hours went on, his decision crystallized. He had made up his mind.
At dinner he drank champagne in addition to his usual ice water, and only half heard the scraps of conversation in the dining room. There was to be a special masquerade dance, he gathered. People around him were excitedly planning the improvisation of costumes. He would not get himself up in any silly costume, he decided, but if his plans went well, he might look in later in the evening, on the chance to being allowed to glide over the waxed floor with the lovely Tanya.
After finishing his last drop of coffee he went directly to the cabin of Captain Evans, who had just begun to eat his simple dinner.
The Chairman of the board of directors pulled up a chair and sat down, without waiting to be asked.
"Look here, Josiah, I want to talk to you. I've been thinking. I'm afraid I was too brusque this morning. That's a bad habit of mine, and I want to apologize. But after all, we should not be quarreling, for your interests and mine are the same, as you surely realize."