by Keith Laumer
CHAPTER 1
I expected trouble when I left the bridge. The tension that had beenbuilding for many weeks was ready for release in violence. The ship wassilent as I moved along the passageway. Oddly silent, I thought;something was brewing.
I stopped before the door of my cabin, listening; then I put my ear tothe wall. I caught the faintest of sounds from within; a muffled click,voices. Someone was inside, someone attempting to be very quiet. I wasnot overly surprised. Sooner or later the trouble had had to come intothe open. I looked up the passage, dim in the green glow of thenightlights. There was no one in sight.
I listened. There were three voices, too faint to identify. The cleverthing for me to do now would be to walk back up to the bridge, and orderthe Provost Marshall to clear my cabin, but I had an intuitive feelingthat that was not the way to handle the situation. It would make thingsmuch simpler all around if I could push through this with as littlecommotion as possible.
There was no point in waiting. I took out my key and placed itsoundlessly in the slot. As the door slid back I stepped briskly intothe room. Kramer, the Medical Officer, and Joyce, AssistantCommunications Officer, stood awkwardly, surprised. Fine, the SupplyOfficer, was sprawled on my bunk. He sat up quickly.
They were a choice selection. Two of them were wearing sidearms. Iwondered if they were ready to use them, or if they knew just how farthey were prepared to go. My task would be to keep them from findingout.
I avoided looking surprised. "Good evening, gentlemen," I saidcheerfully. I stepped to the liquor cabinet, opened it, poured Scotchinto a glass. "Join me in a drink?" I said.
None of them answered. I sat down. I had to move just a little fasterthan they did, and by holding the initiative, keep them off balance.They had counted on hearing my approach, having a few moments to getset, and using my surprise against me. I had reversed their play andtaken the advantage. How long I could keep it depended on how well Iplayed my few cards. I plunged ahead, as I saw Kramer take a breath andwrinkle his brow, about to make his pitch.
"The men need a change, a break in the monotony," I said. "I've beenconsidering a number of possibilities." I fixed my eyes on Fine as Italked. He sat stiffly on the edge of my bunk. Already he was regrettinghis boldness in presuming to rumple the Captain's bed.
"It might be a good bit of drill to set up a few live missile runs onrandom targets," I said. "There's also the possibility of setting up asmall arms range and qualifying all hands." I switched my eyes toKramer. Fine was sorry he'd come, and Joyce wouldn't take theinitiative; Kramer was my problem. "I see you have your Mark 9, Major,"I said, holding out my hand. "May I see it?" I smiled pleasantly.
I hoped I had hit him quickly and smoothly enough, before he had hadtime to adjust to the situation. Even for a hard operator like Kramer,it took mental preparation to openly defy his Commander, particularly incasual conversation. But possession of the weapon was more thancasual....
I looked at him, smiling, my hand held out. He wasn't ready; he pulledthe pistol from its case, handed it to me.
I flipped the chamber open, glanced at the charge indicator, checked theaction. "Nice weapon," I said. I laid it on the open bar at my right.
Joyce opened his mouth to speak. I cut in in the same firm snappy tone Iuse on the bridge. "Let me see yours, Lieutenant."
He flushed, looked at Kramer, then passed the pistol over without aword. I took it, turned it over thoughtfully, and then rose, holding itnegligently by the grip.
"Now, if you gentlemen don't mind, I have a few things to attend to." Iwas not smiling. I looked at Kramer with expressionless eyes. "I thinkwe'd better keep our little chat confidential for the present. I think Ican promise you action in the near future, though."
They filed out, looking as foolish as three preachers caught in a raidon a brothel. I stood without moving until the door closed. Then I letmy breath out. I sat down and finished off the Scotch in one drag.
"You were lucky, boy," I said aloud. "Three gutless wonders."
* * * * *
I looked at the Mark 9's on the table. A blast from one of those wouldhave burned all four of us in that enclosed room. I dumped them into adrawer and loaded my Browning 2mm. The trouble wasn't over yet, I knew.After this farce, Kramer would have to make another move to regain hisprestige. I unlocked the door, and left it slightly ajar. Then I threwthe main switch and stretched out on my bunk. I put the Browning needleron the little shelf near my right hand.
Perhaps I had made a mistake, I reflected, in eliminating formaldiscipline as far as possible in the shipboard routine. It had seemedthe best course for a long cruise under the present conditions. But nowI had a morale situation that could explode in mutiny at the firstblunder on my part.
I knew that Kramer was the focal point of the trouble. He was my seniorstaff officer, and carried a great deal of weight in the Officer's Mess.As a medic, he knew most of the crew better than I. I thought I knewKramer's driving motive, too. He had always been a great success withthe women. When he had volunteered for the mission he had doubtlesspictured himself as quite a romantic hero, off on a noble but hopelessquest. Now, after four years in deep space, he was beginning to realizethat he was getting no younger, and that at best he would have spent adecade of his prime in monastic seclusion. He wanted to go back now, andsalvage what he could.
It was incredible to me that this movement could have gatheredfollowers, but I had to face the fact; my crew almost to a man had givenup the search before it was well begun. I had heard the first rumorsonly a few weeks before, but the idea had spread through the crew likewildfire. Now, I couldn't afford drastic action, or risk forcing ablowup by arresting ringleaders. I had to baby the situation along withan easy hand and hope for good news from the Survey Section. A likelyfind now would save us.
There was still every reason to hope for success in our search. To dateall had gone according to plan. We had followed the route of Omega asfar as it had been charted, and then gone on, studying the stars aheadfor evidence of planets. We had made our first finds early in the fourthyear of the voyage. It had been a long tedious time since then of studyand observation, eliminating one world after another as too massive, toocold, too close to a blazing primary, too small to hold an atmosphere.In all we had discovered twelve planets, of four suns. Only one hadlooked good enough for close observation. We had moved in to televideorange before realizing it was an all-sea world.
Now we had five new main-sequence suns ahead within six months' range. Ihoped for a confirmation on a planet at any time. To turn back now to aworld that had pinned its last hopes on our success was unthinkable, yetthis was Kramer's plan, and that of his followers. They would notprevail while I lived. Still it was not my plan to be a party to ourfailure through martyrdom. I intended to stay alive and carry through tosuccess. I dozed lightly and waited.
* * * * *
I awoke when they tried the door. It had swung open a few inches at thetouch of the one who had tried it, not expecting it to be unlatched. Itstood ajar now, the pale light from the hall shining on the floor. Noone entered. Kramer was still fumbling, unsure of himself. At everysurprise with which I presented him, he was paralyzed, expecting a trap.Several minutes passed in tense silence; then the door swung wider.
"I'll be forced to kill the first man who enters this room," I said in asteady voice. I hadn't picked up the gun.
I heard urgent whispers in the hall. Then a hand reached in behind theshelter of the door and flipped the light switch. Nothing happened,since I had opened the main switch. It was only a small discomfiture,but it had the effect of interfering with their plan of action, such asit was. These men were being pushed along by Kramer, without a clearlythought out plan. They hardly knew how to go about defying lawfulauthority.
I called out, "I suggest you call this nonsense off now, and go back toyour quarters, men. I don't know who is involved in this, yet. You canget away clean if you leave quietly, now
, before you've made a seriousmistake."
I hoped it would work. This little adventure, abortive though it was,might serve to let off steam. The men would have something to talk aboutfor a few precious days. I picked up the needler and waited. If thebluff failed, I would have to kill someone.
Distantly I heard a metallic clatter. Moments later a tremor rattled theobjects on the shelf, followed a few seconds later by a heavyshuddering. Papers slid from my desk, fluttered across the floor. Thewhiskey bottle toppled, rolled to the far wall. I felt dizzy, as my bunkseemed to tilt under me. I reached for the intercom key and flipped it.
"Taylor," I said, "this is the Captain. What's the report?"
There was a momentary delay before the answer came. "Captain, we'vetaken a meteor strike aft, apparently a metallic body. It must have hitus a