Greylorn

by Keith Laumer

  CHAPTER 2

  I emerged into consciousness to find the pressure gone, but a red hazeof pain remained. I lay on my back and saw men sitting on the flooraround me.

  A blow from somewhere made my head ring. I tried to sit up. I couldn'tmake it. Then Kramer was beside me, slipping a needle into my arm. Helooked pretty bad himself. His face was bandaged heavily, and one eyewas purple. He spoke in a muffled voice through stiff jaws. His tone wasdeliberate.

  "This will keep you conscious enough to answer a few questions," hesaid. "Now you're going to give me the combinations to the locks so wecan call off this suicide run; then maybe I'll doctor you up."

  I didn't answer.

  "The time for clamming up is over, you stupid braggard," Kramer said. Heraised his fist and drove a hard punch into my chest. I guess it was hisshot that kept me conscious. I couldn't breathe for a while, untilKramer gave me a few whiffs of oxygen. I wondered if he was fool enoughto think I might give up my ship.

  After a while my head cleared a little. I tried to say something. I gotout a couple of croaks, and then found my voice.

  "Kramer," I said.

  He leaned over me. "I'm listening," he said.

  "Take me to the lift. Leave me there alone. That's your only chance." Itseemed to me like a long speech, but nothing happened. Kramer went away,came back. He showed me a large scalpel from his medical kit. "I'm goingto start operating on your face. I'll make you into a museum freak.Maybe if you start talking soon enough I'll change my mind."

  I could see the watch on his wrist. My mind worked very slowly. I hadtrouble getting any air into my lungs. We would intercept in one hourand ten minutes.

  It seemed simple to me. I had to get back to the Bridge before we hit. Itried again. "We only have an hour," I said.

  Kramer lost control. He jabbed the knife at my face, screeching throughgritted teeth. I jerked my head aside far enough that the scalpel gratedalong my cheekbone instead of slashing my mouth. I hardly felt it.

  "We're not dying because you were a fool," Kramer yelled. "I've takenover; I've relieved you as unfit for command. Now open up this ship orI'll slice you to ribbons." He held the scalpel under my nose in a fisttrembling with fury. The chrome plated blade had a thin film of pink onit.

  I got my voice going again. "I'm going to destroy the Mancji ship," Isaid. "Take me to the lift and leave me there." I tried to add a fewwords, but had to stop and work on breathing again for a while. Kramerdisappeared.

  I realized I was not fully in command of my senses. I was clamped in apadded claw. I wanted to roll over. I tried hard, and made it. I couldhear Kramer talking, others answering, but it seemed too great an effortto listen to the words.

  I was lying on my face now, head almost against the wall. There was ablack line in front of me, a door. My head cleared a bit. It must havebeen Kramer's shot working on me. I turned my head and saw Kramerstanding now with half a dozen others, all talking at once. ApparentlyKramer's display of uncontrolled temper had the others worried. Theywanted me alive. Kramer didn't like anyone criticizing him. The argumentwas pretty violent. There was scuffling--and shouts.

  I saw that I lay about twenty feet from the lift; too far. The doorbefore me, if I remembered the ship's layout, was a utility room, smalland containing nothing but a waste disposal hopper. But it did have abolt on the inside, like every other room on the ship.

  I didn't stop to think about it; I started trying to get up. If I'dthought I would have known that at the first move from me all seven ofthem would land on me at once. I concentrated on getting my hands underme, to push up. I heard a shout, and turning my head, saw Kramerswinging at someone. I went on with my project.

  Hands under my chest, I raised myself a little, and got a knee up. Ifelt broken rib ends grating, but felt no pain, just the padded claw.Then I was weaving on all fours. I looked up, spotted the latch on thedoor, and put everything I had into lunging at it. My finger hit it, thedoor swung in, and I fell on my face; but I was half in. Another lungeand I was past the door, kicking it shut as I lay on the floor, reachingfor the lock control. Just as I flipped it with an extended finger,someone hit the door from outside, a second too late.

  It was dark, and I lay on my back on the floor, and felt strangeshort-circuited stabs of what would have been agonizing pain runningthrough my chest and arm. I had a few minutes to rest now, before theyblasted the door open.

  I hated to lose like this, not because we were beaten, but because wewere giving up. My poor world, no longer fair and green, had found thestrength to send us out as her last hope. But somewhere out here in theloneliness and distance we had lost our courage. Success was at ourfingertips, if we could have found it; instead, in panic and madness, wewere destroying ourselves.

  * * * * *

  My mind wandered; I imagined myself on the Bridge, half-believed I wasthere. I was resting on the OD bunk, and Clay was standing beside me. Along time seemed to pass.... Then I remembered I was on the floor,bleeding internally, in a tiny room that would soon lose its door. Butthere was someone standing beside me.

  I didn't feel too disappointed at being beaten; I hadn't hoped for muchmore than a breather, anyway. I wondered why this fellow had abandonedhis action station to hide there. The door was still shut. He must havebeen there all along, but I hadn't seen him when I came in. He stoodover me, wearing greasy overalls, and grinned down at me. He raised hishand. I was getting pretty indifferent to blows; I couldn't feel them.

  The hand went up, the man straightened and held a fairly snappy salute."Sir," he said. "Space'n first class Thomas."

  I didn't feel like laughing or cheering or anything else; I just took itas it came.

  "At ease, Thomas," I managed to say. "Why aren't you at your dutystation?" I went spinning off somewhere after that oration.

  Thomas was squatting beside me now. "Cap'n, you're hurt, ain't you? Iwas wonderin' why you was down here layin down in my 'Sposal station."

  "A scratch," I said. I thought about it for a while. Thomas was doingsomething about my chest. This was Thomas' disposal station. Thomasowned it. I wondered if a fellow could make a living with such a smallplace way out here, with just an occasional tourist coming by. Iwondered why I didn't send one of them for help; I needed help for somereason....

  "Cap'n, I been overhaulin' my converter units, I jist come in. How longyou been in here, Cap'n?" Thomas was worried about something.

  I tried hard to think. I hadn't been here very long; just a few minutes.I had come here to rest.... Then suddenly I was thinking clearly again.

  * * * * *

  Whatever Thomas was, he was apparently on my side, or at least neutral.He didn't seem to be aware of the mutiny. I realized that he had boundmy chest tightly with strips of shirt; it felt better.

  "What are you doing in here, Thomas?" I asked. "Don't you know we're inaction against a hostile ship?"

  Thomas looked surprised. "This here's my action station, Cap'n," hesaid. "I'm a Waste Recovery Technician, First Class, I keep the recoverysystem operatin'."

  "You just stay in here?" I asked.

  "No, sir," Thomas said. "I check through the whole system. We got threemain disposal points and lots a little ones, an' I have to keepeverything operatin'. Otherwise this ship would be in a bad way, Cap'n."

  "How did you get in here?" I asked. I looked around the small room.There was only one door, and the gray bulk of the converter unit whichbroke down wastes into their component elements for re-use nearly filledthe tiny space.

  "I come in through the duct, Cap'n," Thomas said. "I check the ductsevery day. You know, Cap'n," he said shaking his head, "they's some badlaid-out ductin' in this here system. If I didn't keep after it, you'dbe gettin' clogged ducts all the time. So I jist go through the systemand keep her clear."

  From somewhere, hope began again. "Where do these ducts lead?" I asked.I wondered how the man could ignore the mutiny going on around him.

  "
Well, sir, one leads to the mess; that's the big one. One leads to thewardroom, and the other one leads up to the Bridge."

  My God, I thought, the Bridge.

  "How big are they?" I asked. "Could I get through them?"

  "Oh, sure, Cap'n," Thomas said. "You can get through 'em easy. But areyou sure you feel like inspectin' with them busted ribs?"

  I was beginning to realize that Thomas was not precisely a genius. "Ican make it," I said.

  "Cap'n," Thomas said diffidently, "it ain't none a my business,