Badge of Infamy

by Lester Del Rey

  XI

  Convert

  Feldman fought for control of himself, forced himself to think, to holdonto his sanity. It was sheer stupidity, since nothing could have beenmore merciful than to lose this reality. But the will to be himself wasstronger than logic. And bit by bit, he forced the fear and horror awayfrom him until he could examine his situation.

  He was spinning slowly, so that stars ahead of him seemed to crawlacross his view. The ship was retreating from him already hundreds ofyards away. Mars was a shrunken pill far away.

  Then something blinked to one side. He turned his head to stare.

  A little ship was less than three hundred yards away. He recognized itas a life raft. Now his spin brought him around to face it, and he sawit was parallelling his course. The ejection of the life raft must havecaused the thump he'd heard before he was cast adrift.

  It meant someone was trying to save him. It meant _life_!

  He flailed his arms and beat his legs together, senselessly trying toforce himself closer, while trying to guess who could have taken thechance. No one he could think of could have booked passage on the_Iroquois_. There wasn't that much free money in the villages.

  Something flashed a hot blue, and the little ship leaped forward.Whoever was handling it knew nothing about piloting. It picked up toomuch speed at too great an angle.

  Again blue spurts came, but this time matters were even worse. Thenthere was a long wait before a third try was made. He estimated thecourse. It would miss him by a good hundred feet, but it was probablythe best the amateur pilot could do. The ship drifted closer, but to oneside. It would soon pass him completely.

  A spacesuited figure suddenly appeared in the tiny airlock, holding acoil of rope. The rope shot out, well thrown. But it was too short. Itwould pass within ten feet--and might as well have been ten miles forall the good it would do him.

  Every film he had seen on space seemed to form a mad jumble in his mind,but he seized on the first idea he could remember. He inhaled deeply andyanked the oxygen tank free. An automatic seal on the suit cut off theconnection. He aimed the hissing bottle, fumbling for the manual valve.

  It almost worked. It kicked him toward the rope slightly, but most ofthe energy was wasted in setting him into a wilder spin. He blinked,trying to spot the rope. It was within five feet now.

  Again he waited, until he seemed to be in position. This time he threwthe bottle away from it. It added spin to his vertical axis, but therope came into view within arm's reach.

  He grasped it, just as his lungs seemed about to burst. He couldn't holdon long enough to tie the rope....

  His lungs gave up suddenly, collapsing and then sucking in greedily.Clean air rushed in, letting his head clear. He'd forgotten that theinflated suit held enough oxygen for several minutes.

  His body struck the edge of the airlock and a hand jerked him inside.The outer seal was slammed shut and locked, and there was a hiss of airentering.

  He threw back his helmet just as Chris Ryan jerked hers off.

  Her voice shook almost hysterically. "Thank God. Dan, I almost gave up!"

  "I liked the air out there better," he told her bitterly. "If you'llopen the lock again, I'll leave. Or am I supposed to believe this isrescue and that you came along just to save me?"

  "I came along to see you killed, as you know very well. Saving youwasn't in my orders."

  He grunted and reached for the handle that would release the outer lock."Better get back inside if you don't want to blow out with me."

  "It's up to you, Dan," she told him, and there was all the sincerity inthe world in her blue eyes. "I'm on your side now."

  He began counting on his fingers. "Let's see. The spare battery, thedelay in arresting me, the choice of Matthews--"

  "It was all true." Anger began to grow in her eyes. "Dan Feldman, youget inside this raft! If you don't care about me, you might consider thepeople dying of the plague who need you!"

  She'd played her trump, and it took the round. He followed her.

  "All right," he said grudgingly. "Spill your story."

  She held out a copy of a space radiogram, addressed to Mrs. D. E.Everts, and signed by one of the best doctors on the Lobby Board ofDirectors.

  Regret confirm diagnosis. Topsecret. Repeat topsecret. Martian fever incubates fourteen years, believed highly fatal. No cure, research beginning immediately. Penalty violation topsecret, death all concerned.

  "Mrs. Everts rates a topsecret break?" Doc commented dryly. "Come offit, Chris!"

  "She's the daughter of Elmers of Space Lobby!" Chris answered. Shepointed to the message, underlining words with her finger. "_Fourteenyears._ You couldn't have caused it. _Highly fatal._ And people arebeing told it's only a skin disease. _Research beginning._ But you'vealready done most of the research. I can see that now. I can see a lotof things."

  "You've got me beat then," he said. "I can't see how such a reformedyoung noblewoman calmly walked over and stole a life raft. I can't seehow your brilliant mind concocted this whole scheme in almost no time.And to be honest, I can't even see why Medical Lobby decided to save meat the last minute and sent you to do the job. You didn't have to spyout knowledge from me. I've been trying all along to get it to yourResearch division."

  She sighed and dropped onto a little seat.

  "I can't prove my motives. You'll just have to believe me. But it wasn'thard to do what I've done. That shuttle pilot was found in a routinecheck, stowed away on the life raft. I was with Captain Everts when hewas found, so I discovered how to get into the raft. And I heard hiswhole confession. He wasn't the real pilot. He'd come from the villagesto save you. The whole scheme was his. I just used it, hoping I couldreach you."

  As always her story had a convincing element she shouldn't have known.The pilot's farewell, addressing him as Dr. Feldman, had been too lowfor her to hear, but it was something that fitted her story. It wasprobably a deliberate clue to give him hope, to assure him the villageswere still trying. It shook his confidence.

  "And your motive--your real motive?" he insisted.

  She swore at him, then began ripping off the spacesuit. She turned herback, pulling a thin blouse down from her neck. He stared, then reachedout to touch the lump there.

  "So you've had Selznik's migraine and know you're carrying plague. Andyou've decided your precious Lobby won't save you?"

  She dropped her eyes, then raised them to meet his defiantly. "I'm notjust scared and selfish. Dad caught it, too, and it must be close to thetime for him. He switched to Mars-normal when he was a liaison agent andnever changed back. Dan, are we all going to have to die? Can't you savehim?"

  Feldman was out of his suit and at the control panel. There was a manuallever, which Chris must have used before. It might work out here wherethere was room to maneuver and nothing to hit. But trying to make alanding was going to be different.

  "Dan?" she repeated.

  He shrugged. "I don't know. They've started research too late andthey'll be under so much pressure that the real brains won't have achance. The topsecret stuff looks bad for research. Maybe there's acure. It works in culture bottles, but it may fail in person. When I'mconvinced I'm safe with you, I may tell you about it."

  "Oh." Her voice was low. Then she sighed. "I suppose I can understandwhy you hate me, Dan."

  "I don't hate you. I'm too mixed up. Tomorrow maybe, but not now. Shutup and let me see if I can figure out how to land this thing."

  He found that the fuel tanks were nearly full, but that still didn'tleave much margin. Mars must have been notified by Everts and be readyto pick the raft up. He had to reach the wastelands away from any of theshuttle ports. They had no aspirators, however, and they couldn't covermuch territory in the spacesuits they would have to use. It meant he'dhave to land close to a village where he was known.

  He jockeyed the ship around by trial and error, studying the manual thatwas lying prominently on the control panel. According to the booklet,the ship was simp
le to operate. It was self-leveling in an atmosphere,and automatic flare computers were supposed to make it possible for anamateur to judge the rate of descent near the surface. It lookedreassuring--and was probably written with that in mind.

  Finally he reached for the control, hoping he'd figured his landingorbit reasonably well by simple logic. He smoothed it out in thefollowing hours as he watched the markings on Mars. When they were nearturnover point, he began cranking the little gyroscope to swing theship. It saved fuel to turn without power, and he wasn't sure he couldhave turned accurately by blasting.

  He was gaining some proficiency, however, he felt. But now he had towaste fuel and ruin his orbit again. There was no way to practicemaneuvering without actually doing so.

  In the end, he compromised, leaving a small margin for a bad landingthat would require a second attempt, but with less practice than hewanted.

  He had located Jake's village through the little telescope when hefinally reached for the main blast control. The thin haze of Mars'atmosphere came rushing up, while the blast lashed out. Then they werein the outer fringes of the sky and the blast was beginning to show acorona that ruined visibility.

  He turned to the flare computer and back to what he could see throughthe quartz viewport. He was going to land about half a mile from thevillage, as nearly as he could judge.

  The computer seemed to work as it should. The speed was withinacceptable limits. He gave up trying to see the ground and was forced totrust the machinery designed for amateur pilots. The flare bloomed, andhe yanked down on the little lever.

  It could have been worse. They hit the ground, bounced twice, and turnedover. The ship was a mess when Feldman freed himself from the elasticstraps of the seat. Chris had shrieked as they hit, but she wasunbuckling herself now.

  He threw her her spacesuit and one of the emergency bottles of oxygenfrom the rack. "Hurry up with that. We've sprung a leak and thepressure's dropping."

  They were halfway to the village when a dozen tractors came racing upand Jake piled out of the lead one to drag the two in with him.

  "Heard about it from the broadcasts and figured you might land aroundhere. Good to see you, Doc." He started the tractor off at full speed,back to the wastelands, while Doc stared at the armed men who wereriding the tractors.

  Jake caught his look and nodded. "You're in enemy territory, Doc.There's a war going on!"