The men were all on their feet, checking their weapons and talking excitedly. They were clumsy, some of them seeing modem weaponry for the first time. Morrison — who was their natural leader due to his size and self-confidence, though he was of the same rank as the rest of them — had to show Styson how to release the safeties. He was beginning to wonder if the guys would be all right, but he figured as long as they knew which end to point and what to pull, they'd be fine. What creature could stand up against military caseless ammunition?
39
The number-one lander had three escape pods. These were used for close-up maneuvering, in order not to jeopardize the lander itself by piloting it around poorly mapped ground features. This standard-model pod was shaped like an enormous truck tire. Its circular form allowed for the miles of complex wiring that took up most of its interior and allowed it to ride the planet's electromagnetic currents with some success.
Norbert fitted himself in, and Mac nestled up to his chest.
“Comfortable?” Stan asked, peering in.
“The question has no relevance for me,” Norbert replied. “When your body is electronically operated, one posture is as good as another. But Mac is fine, Dr. Myakovsky.”
“Glad to hear it,” Stan said. “Good luck, Norbert. I'll be sending down the five crew volunteers in a separate pod. This moment brings us to the whole point of this operation — getting you and Mac and the men to the surface of AK-32 near the alien hive. Have you got all the stuff you'll need? Did you remember to check the charge in the inhibitors?”
“Of course, Dr. Myakovsky. They should give me enough time to do what I have to do.”
“Okay,” Stan said. “Good-bye, Mac. You're a nice little dog. I hope I see you again one of these days.”
“Not likely, Doctor,” said Norbert.
Suddenly Stan was furious.
“Just get the hell out of here!” he said, slamming the pod's hatch shut. “I don't need your comments. Did you hear that, Julie?”
“Take it easy, Stan,” Julie said. “Norbert didn't mean anything. He only states facts. Anyway, what's the big deal?”
Norbert's voice came over the radio. “I am ready for the descent, Dr. 'Myakovsky.”
Stan turned to Gill. “Cut the pod loose. And then get the volunteers into their own pod.”
Gill, seated at the control panel, turned a switch. The pod came loose from the landing platform with a soft explosive sigh of power. It ejected straight into the air, dipped for a moment then its electromagnetic receptors came up to full and the pod darted across the stormy landscape of AR-32 toward the distant hive.
40
Badger and Glint left the workshop and entered crew country from the corridor into the crew's commissary. A wave of sound and smell hit them. The sound was of fifteen men and women, mostly young, celebrating their arrival at AR-32 with song and booze, hamburgers and pizza (these latter accounting for the smell), and a level of noise that had to be heard to be believed.
Celebrating landfall was an old custom among ship's crews. Columbus's men had celebrated in the same way, their arrival in the New World offering them a good excuse for a spree. That's what the arrival at AR-32 meant to the crew of the Dolomite, too: a chance to cut loose and tie one on in the secure surroundings of the commissariat, where officers were not permitted and where scanning procedures were prohibited by the strong Spacemen's Union.
Here the men could say what they wanted, and there were no ship's officers nearby or at the end of an electronic listening device ready to take their names and report them for summary discipline. The union wouldn't allow it, and Red Badger had counted on that when he made his entry.
Long Meg, a wiper third class from Sacramento back on Earth, slapped Badger on the back and pushed a bulb of beer into his face. “Where you been, Red? Not like you to miss a spree!”
“I been out to the wreck,” Red said.
“What wreck? They didn't tell us about no wreck.”
“No, they didn't,” Red said. “That's very like them, isn't it?”
Meg pushed her face close to Badger's. “None of your bullshit. What wreck are you talking about?”
Badger grinned at her easily. “That's what the captain sent me and Glint here to investigate. It showed up on the radar and he sent me to get the flight recorder.”
“Oh. Is that all?” Meg asked. “I guess the captain will tell us what was on it all in good time.”
“I don't think so,” Badger said. “If we knew what was on that recorder, it might change our minds about a few things.”
“Come out with it, Red! What are you talking about?”
“Suppose that flight recorder showed a freighter just like ours, poking around here just like we are, then being blasted to hell by someone who didn't want them here? What about that, huh?”
“That would be serious,” Meg admitted, and several other crewmen nodded agreement. “Are you saying that's what it said?”
“I'm not saying nothing,” Badger said. “You can decide for yourselves.”
“You took the flight indicator?”
“I listened to it in the workshop. And now I'm going to play it for you. Once you've heard it, you can come to your own conclusions.”
“I hope you know what you're doing, Red,” Meg said. “I'm sure the captain is expecting you to give that to him immediately.”
“Don't worry,” Badger said. “The message on it is pretty short.”
41
The pod, with Norbert and Mac aboard, was dancing around like a leaf in a storm. Norbert had lost contact with the other pod containing the five volunteers. Wind force threw his pod up into the air, and crosscurrents spun it like a top. Mac howled, and Norbert just clung tight.
“Hang on, boy!” Norbert called. Mac, cradled in his arms, was whimpering, his eyes rolling, in a paroxysm of fear.
Norbert had brought along some extra equipment in case of distress to the dog. The trouble was getting to it. Norbert was practically compressed into the space of the pod, and his size made him take up more room than an Earthman. The little ship was swinging around violently, but Norbert did not suffer from vertigo. He managed to reverse one of his wrist joints and grabbed a large piece of felt he had brought along. He managed to wrap this around Mac, cushioning him. The dog gave a little yelp as the cloth came around him, but he seemed to appreciate it. His spastic movement became calmer, and he began to adjust to the violent movements.
The pod, descending on automatic, danced and veered in the wind. Norbert was tempted to manually override the pod's controls and see if he could ease out the movements. But he decided against it. The pod's autopilot had been designed with a program that softened out its jerks and slides. He couldn't hope to do better. He concentrated instead upon providing a firm platform for Mac and keeping the felt wrapped around the shivering beast without smothering him. Norbert himself didn't breathe, and he had to remind himself that all other creatures did.
The ground was coming up fast now to meet them. Wind shear, this close to the ground, added another factor to the dangerous uncertainties of the descent. (The pod's own pulsar beams had to slow them and absorb the shock as the ground rushed up to meet them.) Then they were bouncing across it, and finally, spinning, they came to a halt.
Then Dr. Myakovsky's voice: “Norbert, are you all right?”
“Perfectly all right, Doctor. And so is Mac.”
“Was the landing very difficult?”
Norbert had something new in his vocabulary, learned from Julie, and he hastened to use it now. “A piece of cake, Doctor. A walk in the park.”
“Hurry up and get the job done,” Stan said. “We want to get rich and get out of here.”
42
After Badger played the recorder for the crew, there was an utter silence for a brief moment. Spaceship crews, with their volatile mix of people from all walks of life, tend to have low boiling points. The crew of the Dolomite was no exception, particularly since it included a high per
centage of criminals.
“What the hell does it mean?” Meg asked.
“It means that a ship like ours was fired upon and destroyed. If they did it to them, then why not to us?”
“Wait a minute!” one of the crew said. “They aren't allowed to do that!”
“What does it matter what they're allowed?” Badger said. “People with power do what they please.”
The crew began quarreling among themselves. Badger waited for them to sort it out. He was pretty sure what conclusion they'd come to. And if, by a remote chance, they didn't, he'd steer them toward it.
He knew that cons were always open to the charge that they were being exploited, a supposition that had proven true too many times in the past. The crew had listened to the flight recorder from the Valparaiso Queen and, aided by Badger's comments, came to their own conclusions.
It was obvious that there was danger out there. Danger that Captain Hoban would soon know about. Danger that impinged directly on the lives of the crew. So what would Hoban do about it?
After a while the first babble of talk died down, and Walter Glint said to Badger, “Captain Hoban will see this soon. What do you think he's going to do about it?”
“I'll tell you what he'll do,” Badger said. “Nothing, that's what he'll do! Hoban is paid by the crazy doctor. The one who's always zonked out on fire. The one who's got the robot alien that killed two of our shipmates. Hoban will do what the crazy doctor tells him to do, because he's gettin' paid plenty to take the risks. But what risks are you being paid to take? Tell me that, huh?”
It was easy to get a spaceship crew angry, less so to drive them to action. Excited and desperate though they were, it still required work to goad them into taking the law into their own hands. But they were halfway there, Red thought.
Badger was starting a rebellion, but he didn't know quite what he would do next. The quirks of his own mind had perplexed him since childhood. Although he was starting this revolt, paradoxically he felt a strong sympathy for Captain Hoban. At one time he had thought he was going to help him. After all, Hoban had gotten him out of prison. But that was before he saw the tapes, before he realized the extent of the danger they were running, before he decided to do what he could to prevent it.
It's necessary to get them moving, Badger thought Before there are more deaths.
43
“Dr. Myakovsky? This is Captain Hoban. Do you read me?”
“The atmospherics are difficult, Captain, but I am able to understand you. Please note that just a few minutes ago we launched the pods containing Norbert and Mac and the volunteers. We have them now in distant visual range.”
“Excellent, Doctor. I'm glad that part of the operation is going according to plan.”
With his sharpened senses, Stan caught the note of uncertainty in his captain's voice. “Is something the matter, Captain?”
“I'm afraid it is, sir. It concerns the flight recorder that we salvaged from the wreck I reported to you about. Before saying any more, let me play it for you, sir.”
“Okay, go ahead,” Stan said.
44
Stan, Julie, and Gill listened in attentive silence as the tape ran. They heard the exchange between Kuhn of the Valparaiso Queen and Potter of the Lancet. Although they knew the tape was going to reveal some kind of trouble, they were unprepared for the explosion of the Valparaiso Queen as she received the Lancet's torpedo amidships.
“Let me just make sure I've got this straight,” Stan said, when the tape ended. The recorder shows that Lancet blew up Valparaiso Queen?”
“There seems no doubt about that, sir,” Hoban said.
“Well, so what?” Stan said.
“There seems good reason to believe that Lancet is still in the vicinity.”
“And you think we are in danger?”
“Given Potter's record of violence, it is entirely possible, sir. Even likely.”
“Let me point out, Captain, that we are not a defenseless freighter. We have the normal armament against piracy. If Lancet should attempt anything against us …”
“I will point that out, sir.”
“To whom?”
“The representative from the crew. They are sending him to ask what I intend doing about this situation.”
“Are you telling me that you played the tape for the crew?” Stan asked.
“No, sir. They took the liberty of listening to it before turning it over to me.”
“Well, damn their presumption.” Stan turned to Gill. “Have you ever heard anything like it?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Gill said. “The annals of space exploration are full of accounts of insubordinate crews.”
Stan said to Hoban, “You must point out to them that Lancet's action was illegal and exceptional. Our situation is not more hazardous because an overzealous captain performed an illegal deed. Nevertheless, I think that in view of the men's feelings we propose a special bonus to them.”
“I agree, Doctor,” Hoban said. “I was going to make the suggestion myself.”
“Do what you can with them, Captain. We'll talk again later.” Stan signed off.
“What do you think is going to happen?” Julie asked.
Gill said, “Obviously there's trouble. But I'm sure Captain Hoban can handle it.”
“I hope so,” Stan said. “We have a few problems of our own to take care of down here.”
He turned back to the screen. The others looked now, too. They were viewing the landscape of AR-32 through Norbert's visual receptors. Norbert's head was turning, checking out the landscape as he walked forward. Ahead of him, Mac suddenly started barking and ran toward a little hill. They heard Norbert say, “Come back, Mac. Wait for me!”
Then the view began to shake as Norbert broke into a run. For a moment they could see nothing but jagged brown-and-yellow lines. Norbert was watching the uneven ground, struggling to keep his balance. Then he went over a little rise. There was a sudden red-yellow explosion and his screen went into a wild array of colors and test patterns.
“Just what we needed,” Julie said. “Stan, can you clear up that view?”
“I'm working on it” Stan turned the controls. “Gill, you got any ideas?”
“Let me just try this,” Gill said. His hand probed the front controls on the computer. “I think that's getting it, sir. The view is beginning to come back….”
The confrontation on board ship flared up suddenly. One moment Captain Hoban was talking with the crewmen and apparently getting somewhere, then the whole thing blew up.
Badger had rapped at the door to the control room. “Sir. Permission to speak to you about a grievance.”
“Now is not a very convenient time, Mr. Badger.”
“No, sir. But the union laws state that grievances of a serious nature are to be settled on the spot.”
“And who determines whether they're serious?”
“A duly authorized ship steward, sir. Me.”
“All right,” Hoban said. “Come in. Let's get this over with quickly.”
Badger entered the control room followed by Glint and four other members of the crew. They looked ill at ease in the officers' area, with its soft lighting and flickering wall scanners. The helmsman stood alone in a little fenced-off enclosure to one side, scanning the ship. Two engine-room officers were also present. None of the officers was wearing sidearms. In the inquiry that later followed, Captain Hoban was faulted for this omission.
“What seems to be the problem?” Hoban asked.
“As you know, we took the liberty of viewing the ship's log that I brought back from the rest. You've seen it, sir?”
“Of course,” Hoban said.
“What did you think, sir?”
“They caught Valparaiso Queen napping. They won't find us so easy.”
“Yes, sir. But what has that got to do with us? We're not soldiers, sir.”
“We are going about our peaceful and lawful business,” Hoban said, hoping it was true. “W
e aren't out looking for trouble. But if it comes, they'll find us ready. That is a perfectly normal situation in space, Mr. Badger.”
“Sure, a crew has to be ready for trouble. But it doesn't have to go out of its way to find it.”
“We don't have to run from it, either,” Hoban said. “But it is an unusual situation and additional compensation would not be out of order. I will make an announcement shortly, granting the crew extra hazard pay.”
“That's not good enough,” Badger said. “We want some assurances now that this Potter isn't going to blow us out of space.”
Hoban knew it was time to be firm. “I don't care what you want, Mr. Badger. You're a troublemaker. This situation will be resolved and we will let you know what our disposition of it is.”
“That is not good enough, Captain.”
“Well, it's just going to have to be good enough! You are all dismissed.”
One of the engineers tugged at Captain Hoban's sleeve, trying to get his attention. Hoban turned, and saw that Glint had sneaked over to the weapons locker and helped himself to some of its contents. He had pulled out a Gauss needler. This weapon, with its big side magazine of steel slivers, had not been allotted in the standard issue, where favor was given to primitive slug throwers and the newer beam weapons. Glint may just have been fascinated by the handgun's deadly lines, and by the bulbous housing that contained the magnetic impulse equipment. “What do you think you are doing?” Hoban shouted. “Put that down!”
One of the engineers reached for the weapon. Glint fired, perhaps by reflex. Steel splinters drove through the engineer's left shoulder. There was a moment of shocked silence. And then all hell broke loose.
The second engineer was diving for the weapons locker even as the first was going down. The first thing his hand encountered was a Wilton tangler. He swung it at Glint and pressed the release stud.
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