by Andre Norton
“That square box over your head.”
Kurt looked at it, closed his eyes, and thought for a moment. The thing did look familiar. Suddenly a picture of it popped into his mind. Page 318 in the “Manual of Auxiliary Mechanisms.”
“It’s fantastic!” he said.
“What is?” said the little man.
“This.” Kurt pointed to the conditioner. “I didn’t know they existed in real life. I thought they were just in books. You got a first echelon kit?”
“Sure,” said Ozaki. “It’s in that recess by the head of the bunk. Why?”
Kurt pulled the kit out of its retaining clips and opened its cover, fishing around until he found a small screwdriver and a pair of needle-nose pliers.
“I think I’ll fix it,” he said conversationally.
“Oh no you won’t!” howled Ozaki. “Air with fish is better than no air at all.” But before he could do anything, Kurt had pulled the cover off the air conditioner and was probing into the intricate mechanism with his screwdriver. A slight thumping noise came from inside. Kurt cocked his ear and thought. Suddenly his screwdriver speared down through the maze of whirring parts. He gave a slow quarter turn and the internal thumping disappeared.
“See,” he said triumphantly, “no more fish!”
Ozaki stopped shaking long enough to give the air a tentative sniff. He had got out of the habit of smelling in self-defense and it took him a minute or two to detect the difference. Suddenly a broad grin swept across his face.
“It’s going away! I do believe it’s going away!”
Kurt gave the screwdriver another quarter of a turn and suddenly the sharp spicy scent of pines swept through the scout. Ozaki took a deep ecstatic breath and relaxed in his chair. His face lost its pallor.
“How did you do it?” he said finally.
“No comment,” said Kurt pleasantly.
There was silence from below, Ozaki was in the throes of a brain storm. He was more impressed by Kurt’s casual repair of the air conditioner than he liked to admit.
“Tell me,” he said cautiously, “can you fix other things beside air conditioners?”
“I guess so,” said Kurt, “if it’s just simple stuff like this.” He gestured around the cabin. “Most of the stuff here needs fixing. They’ve got it together wrong.”
“Maybe we could make a dicker,” said Ozaki. “You fix things, I answer questions—Some questions that is,” he added hastily.
“It’s a deal,” said Kurt who was filled with a burning curiosity as to his whereabouts. Certain things were already clear in his mind. He knew that wherever he was he’d never been there before. That meant evidently that there was a garrison on the other side of the mountains whose existence had never been suspected. What bothered him was how he had got there.
“Check,” said Ozaki. “First, do you know anything about plumbing?”
“What’s plumbing?” asked Kurt curiously.
“Pipes,” said Ozaki. “They’re plugged. They’ve been plugged for more time than I like to think about.”
“I can try,” said Kurt.
“Good!” said the pilot and ushered him into the small cubicle that opened off the rear bulkhead. “You might tackle the shower while you’re at it.”
“What’s a shower?”
“That curved dingbat up there,” said Ozaki pointing. “The thermostat’s out of whack.”
“Thermostats are kid stuff,” said Kurt, shutting the door.
Ten minutes later Kurt came out.
“It’s all fixed.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Ozaki, shouldering his way past Kurt, s reached down and pushed a small curved handle. There was the zisfying sound of rushing water. He next reached into the little power compartment and turned the knob to the left. With a hiss needle spray of cold water burst forth. The pilot looked at Kurt the awe in his eyes.
“If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it! That’s two answers you’ve earned.”
Kurt peered back into the cubicle curiously. “Well, first,” he said, “now that I’ve fixed them, what are they for?”
Ozaki explained briefly and a look of amazement came over Kurt’s :e. Machinery he knew, but the idea that it could be used for mething was hard to grasp.
“If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it!” he said slowly, this would be something to tell when he got home. Home! The essing question of location popped back into his mind.
“How far are we from the garrison?” he asked.
Ozaki made a quick mental calculation.
“Roughly two light-seconds,” he said.
“How far’s that in kilometers?”
Ozaki thought again. “Around six hundred thousand. I’ll run off e exact figures if you want them.”
Kurt gulped. No place could be that far away. Not even Imperial headquarters! He tried to measure out the distance in his mind in arms of days’ marches but he soon found himself lost. Thinking couldn’t do it. He had to see with his own eyes where he was. “How do you get outside?” he asked.
Ozaki gestured toward the air lock that opened at the rear of the ship.
“I want to go out for a few minutes to sort of get my bearings.” Ozaki looked at him in disbelief. “What’s your game, anyhow?” he demanded.
It was Kurt’s turn to look bewildered. “I haven’t any game. I’m just trying to find out where I am so I’ll know which way to head to get back to the garrison.”
“It’ll be a long cold walk.” Ozaki laughed and hit the stud that slid back the ray screens on the vision ports. “Take a look.”
Kurt looked out into nothingness, a blue-black void marked only by distant pin points of light. He suddenly felt terribly alone, lost in a blank immensity that had no boundaries. Down was gone and so was up. There was only this tiny lighted room with nothing underneath it. The port began to swim in front of his eyes as a sudden strange vertigo swept over him. He felt that if he looked out into that terrible space for another moment he would lose his sanity. He covered his eyes with his hands and staggered back to the center of the cabin.
Ozaki slid the ray screens back in place. “Kind of gets you first time, doesn’t it?”
Kurt had always carried a little automatic compass within his head. Wherever he had gone, no matter how far afield he had wandered, it had always pointed steadily toward home. Now for the first time in his life the needle was spinning helplessly. It was an uneasy feeling. He had to get oriented.
“Which way is the garrison?” he pleaded.
Ozaki shrugged. “Over there some place. I don’t know whereabouts on the planet you come from. I didn’t pick up your track until you were in free space.”
“Over where?” asked Kurt.
“Think you can stand another look?”
Kurt braced himself and nodded. The pilot opened a side port to vision and pointed. There, seemingly motionless in the black emptiness of space, floated a great greenish gray globe. It didn’t make sense to Kurt. The satellite that hung somewhat to the left did. Its face was different, the details were sharper than he’d ever seen them before, but the features he knew as well as his own. Night after night on scouting detail for the hunting parties while waiting for sleep he had watched the silver sphere ride through the clouds above him.
He didn’t want to believe but he had to!
His face was white and tense as he turned back to Ozaki. A thousand sharp and burning questions milled chaotically through his mind.
“Where am I?” he demanded. “How did I get out here? Who are you? Where did you come from?”
“You’re in a spaceship,” said Ozaki, “a two-man scout. And that’s all you’re going to get out of me until you get some more work done. You might as well start on this microscopic projector. The thing burned out just as the special investigator was about to reveal who had blown off the commissioner’s head by wiring a bit of plutonite into his autoshave. I’ve been going nuts ever since trying to figure out who did
it!”
Kurt took some tools out of the first echelon kit and knelt obediently down beside the small projector.
Three hours later they sat down to dinner. Kurt had repaired the food machine and Ozaki was slowly masticating synthasteak that for the first time in days tasted like synthasteak. As he ecstatically lifted the last savory morsel to his mouth, the ship gave a sudden leap that plastered him and what remained of his supper against the rear bulkhead. There was darkness for a second and then the ceiling lights flickered on, then off, and then on again. Ozaki picked himself up and gingerly ran his fingers over the throbbing lump that was beginning to grow out of the top of his head. His temper wasn’t improved when he looked up and saw Kurt still seated at the table calmly cutting himself another piece of pie.
“You should have braced yourself,” said Kurt conversationally. “The converter’s out of phase. You can hear her build up for a jump if you listen. When she does you ought to brace yourself. Maybe you don’t hear so good?” he asked helpfully.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, it isn’t polite,” snarled Ozaki.
Late that night the converter cut out altogether. Ozaki was sleeping the sleep of the innocent and didn’t find out about it for several hours. When he did awake it was to Kurt’s gentle shaking.
“Hey!” Ozaki groaned and buried his face in the pillow.
“Hey!” This time the voice was louder. The pilot yawned and tried to open his eyes.
“Is it important if all the lights go out?” the voice queried. The import of the words suddenly struck home and Ozaki sat bolt upright in his bunk. He opened his eyes, blinked, and opened them again. The lights were out. There was a strange unnatural silence about the ship.
“Good Lord!” he shouted and jumped for the controls. “The power’s off.”
He hit the starter switch but nothing happened. The converter was jammed solid. Ozaki began to sweat. He fumbled over the control board until he found the switch that cut the emergency batteries into the lighting circuit. Again nothing happened.
“If you’re trying to run the lights on the batteries, they won’t work,” said Kurt in a conversational tone.
“Why not?” snapped Ozaki as he punched savagely and futilely at the starter button.
“They’re dead,” said Kurt. “I used them all up.”
“You what?” yelled the pilot in anguish.
“I used them all up. You see, when the converter went out I woke up. After a while the sun started to come up and it began to get awfully hot so I hooked the batteries into the refrigeration coils. Kept the place nice and cool while they lasted.”
Ozaki howled. When he swung the shutter of the forward port to let in some light he howled again. This time in dead earnest. The giant red sun of the system was no longer perched off to the left at a comfortable distance. Instead before Ozaki’s horrified eyes was a great red mass that stretched from horizon to horizon.
“We’re falling into the sun!” he screamed.
“It’s getting sort of hot,” said Kurt. “Hot” was an understatement. The thermometer needle pointed at a hundred and ten and was climbing steadily.
Ozaki jerked open the stores compartment door and grabbed a couple of spare batteries. As quickly as his trembling fingers would work, he connected them to the emergency power line. A second later the cabin lights flickered on and Ozaki was warming up the space communicator. He punched the transmitter key and a call went arcing out through hyper-space. The vision screen flickered and the bored face of a communication tech, third class, appeared.
“Give me Commander Krogson at once!” demanded Ozaki.
“Sorry, old man,” yawned the other, “but the commander’s having breakfast. Call back in half an hour, will you?”
“This is an emergency! Put me through at once!”
“Can’t help it,” said the other, “nobody can disturb the Old Man while he’s having breakfast.”
“Listen, you knucklehead,” screamed Ozaki, “if you don’t get me through to the commander as of right now, I’ll have you in the uranium mines so fast that you won’t know what hit you!”
“You and who else?” drawled the tech.
“Me and my cousin Takahashi!” snarled the pilot. “He’s Reclassification Officer for the Base STAP.”
The tech’s face went white. “Yes, sir!” he stuttered. “Right away, sir! No offense meant, sir!” He disappeared from the screen. There was a moment of darkness and then the interior of Commander Krogson’s cabin flashed on.
The commander was having breakfast. His teeth rested on the white tablecloth and his mouth was full of mush.
“Commander Krogson!” said Ozaki desperately.
The commander looked up with a startled expression. When he noticed his screen was on he swallowed his mush convulsively and popped his teeth back into place.
“Who’s there?” he demanded in a neutral voice in case it might be somebody important.
“Flight Officer Ozaki,” said Flight Officer Ozaki.
A thundercloud rolled across the commander’s face. “What do you mean by disturbing me at breakfast?” he demanded.
“Beg pardon, sir,” said the pilot, “but my ship’s falling into a red sun.”
“Too bad,” grunted Commander Krogson and turned back to his mush and milk.
“But, sir,” persisted the other, “you’ve got to send somebody to pull me off. My converter’s dead!”
“Why tell me about it?” said Krogson in annoyance. “Call Space Rescue, they’re supposed to handle things like this.”
“Listen, commander,” wailed the pilot, “by the time they’ve assigned me a priority and routed the paper through proper channels, I’ll have gone up in smoke. The last time I got in a jam it took them two weeks to get to me. I’ve only got hours left!”
“Can’t make exceptions,” snapped Krogson testily. “If I let you skip the chain of command, everybody and his brother will think he has a right to.”
“Commander,” howled Ozaki, “we’re frying in here!”
“All right. All right!” said the commander sourly. “I’ll send somebody after you. What’s your name?”
“Ozaki, sir. Flight Officer Ozaki.”
The commander was in the process of scooping up another spoonful of mush when suddenly a thought struck him squarely between the eyes.
“Wait a second,” he said hastily, “you aren’t the scout who located the Imperial base, are you?”
“Yes, sir,” said the pilot in a cracked voice.
“Why didn’t you say so?” roared Krogson. Flipping on his intercom he growled, “Give me the Exec.” There was a moment’s silence.
“Yes, sir?”
“How long before we get to that scout?”
“About six hours, sir.”
“Make it three!”
“Can’t be done, sir.”
“It will be done!” snarled Krogson and broke the connection. The temperature needle in the little scout was now pointing to a hundred and fifteen.
“I don’t think we can hold out that long,” said Ozaki. “Nonsense!” said the commander and the screen went blank.
Ozaki slumped into the pilot chair and buried his face in his hands. Suddenly he felt a blast of cold air on his neck. “There’s no use in prolonging our misery,” he said without looking up. “Those spare batteries won’t last five minutes under this load.”
“I knew that,” said Kurt cheerfully, “so while you were doing all the talking I went ahead and fixed the converter. You sure have mighty hot summers out here!” he continued, mopping his brow.
“You what?” yelled the pilot, jumping half out of his seat. “You couldn’t even if you did have the know-how. It takes half a day to get the shielding off so you can get at the thing!”
“Didn’t need to take the shielding off for a simple job like that,” said Kurt. He pointed to a tiny inspection port about four inches in diameter. “I worked through there.”
“That’s impossi
ble!” interjected the pilot. “You can’t even see the injector through that, let alone get to it to work on!”
“Shucks,” said Kurt, “a man doesn’t have to see a little gadget like that to fix it. If your hands are trained right, you can feel what’s wrong and set it to rights right away. She won’t jump on you any more either. The syncromesh thrust baffle was a little out of phase so I fixed that, too, while I was at it.”
Ozaki still didn’t believe it but he hit the controls on faith. The scout bucked under the sudden strong surge of power and then, its converter humming sweetly, arced away from the giant sun in a long sweeping curve.
There was silence in the scout. The two men sat quietly, each immersed in an uneasy welter of troubled speculation.
“That was close!” said Ozaki finally. “Too close for comfort. Another hour or so and—!” He snapped his fingers.
Kurt looked puzzled. “Were we in trouble?”
“Trouble!” snorted Ozaki. “If you hadn’t fixed the converter when you did, we’d be cinders by now!”
Kurt digested the news in silence. There was something about this superbeing who actually made machines work that bothered him. There was a note of bewilderment in his voice when he asked: “If we were really in danger, why didn’t you fix the converter instead of wasting time talking on that thing?” He gestured toward the space communicator.
It was Ozaki’s turn to be bewildered. “Fix it?” he said with surprise in his voice. “There aren’t a half a dozen techs on the whole base who know enough about atomics to work on a propulsion unit.
When something like that goes out you call Space Rescue and chew your nails until a wrecker can get to you.”
Kurt crawled into his bunk and lay back staring at the curved ceiling. He had thinking to do, a lot of thinking!
Three hours later the scout flashed up alongside the great flagship and darted into a landing port. Flight Officer Ozaki was stricken by a horrible thought as he gazed affectionately around his smoothly running ship.
“Say,” he said to Kurt hesitantly, “would you mind not mentioning that you fixed this crate up for me? If you do, they’ll take it away from me sure. Some captain will get a new gig and I’ll be issued another clunk from Base junkpile.”