Collected Fiction (1940-1963)

by William P. McGivern

  He switched to the central’s pilot’s compartment, where the Astra’s course was plotted.

  “We’re going off course,” he said crisply. “Bring the ship into position for attack broadsides.”

  The Astra swerved off its course and flashed toward the silver ship in a giant, arching sweep that brought its fore and rear cannon turrets to bear on the strange ship.

  Ward felt a vicious sense of satisfaction course through him as he felt the Astra’s electronic cannons open fire on the silver ship. There was no sensation of sound, for the cannon muzzles were beyond the sound-proofed walls of the ship; but at each rhythmic blast of the mighty weapons a faint shudder raced through the Astra’s hull.

  On the visi-screen they could trace the pin-streak path of the electronic charges as they flashed across the void in vast trajectories toward their target.

  Brick shook his head as he watched the screen.

  “We’ve got to do better,” he muttered. “That broadside won’t come within a hundred miles of the ship.” He pounded a fist angrily on the chart table. “What the hell can you expect? The gunners haven’t fired live ammunition for a couple of years! No wonder they’re firing like blind men.”

  “They’ll get a correction from that broadside,” Ward said. “Their next should be closer.”

  SUDDENLY Ward felt the Astra lurch sickeningly and swing off its course. An alarm at his elbow jangled shrilly.

  He snapped the communication hose to his lips and signaled for the rear power room. The rocket engineer’s voice came tumbling into his ears.

  “Reporting direct hit, sir. One propulsion tube knocked out completely. No casualties. Standing by for orders, sir.”

  “Do your best to repair damage,” Ward said. “That’s all.”

  The central plotting room signaled.

  “Off course, sir. Losing speed. Standing by for orders, sir.”

  Ward glanced quickly at the visi-screen. The silver ship was diminishing rapidly on its surface. The Astra’s speed had been cut in half and the silver ship would soon be out of sight, lost in the trackless expanses of the void.

  Ward’s shoulders slumped and his grey eyes were bleak as he spoke into the communication hose.

  “Resume former course,” he said dully. “Proceed at reduced speed. That is all.”

  The Astra swung slowly, heavily, back on its original course, Earthbound. Ward gave automatic instructions to the other sections of the ship and then watched the visi-screen until the silver ship disappeared from its surface.

  “Well,” he said heavily, “that’s that.” He looked up at Brick and smiled ironically. “There’ll be hell to pay for this, when we reach Earth.”

  CHAPTER II

  A WEEK after Ward moored the Astra at a space base on Eastern seaboard of the United States he was notified to appear before a special session of the Martial Court. The log in which he had recorded the action of the battle in space with the mysterious ship had been sent by his superiors to the court; and they were to render a verdict on the basis of his own record of the affair.

  When he entered the high-ceilinged court room he was conscious of the atmosphere of charged tension. The room was crowded—officials, officers, statesmen and dozens of representatives of the various news disseminating agencies which supplied the entire world’s thirst for information.

  At one end of the long, heavily carpeted room sat five officers, members of the Court Martial. They were seated behind an elevated bench which gave them the commanding position of the entire room.

  Ward walked slowly toward the bench. On both sides he heard fragmentary whispered comments. He was still wearing his uniform, but he realized that he might possibly be wearing it for the last time.

  He stopped a dozen feet before the five officers, came to attention and saluted. The presiding officer, General Holmes, nodded impersonally to him and then cleared his throat impressively.

  “Lieutenant Hanley,” he said, “the purpose of this session of the Martial Court is to determine several factors in regard to your recent command of the Astra on its return to Earth from a routine observation flight.”

  Ward listened to the general’s smooth, quiet voice with a feeling of utter hopelessness. General Holmes represented the most rabid forces of pacifism; his expressed opinion was that the entire military arm of the space force should have been abolished years ago. He maintained that any military organization was simply an incitation to violence. And that the only way of securing peace was to completely destroy all armaments. Ward reflected wryly that the general had forgotten the lesson that history should have taught him.

  THE general glanced up from his papers and frowned at Ward. He was an impressive figure of a man, tall and proportionately built, with smooth, bland features with keen grey eyes under bushy dark eyebrows. His hair was iron-grey and swept back from his well-formed head like a splendid mane. Also, he realized that he looked impressive and he cultivated mannerisms to enhance the illusion.

  “Lieutenant Hanley,” he said slowly, “no one has preferred any charges against you.” He paused and dropped his eyes to the papers before him. “But,” he continued, after an impressive pause, “your own written record of your actions while in command of the Astra constitute a charge of the most serious nature. This court has carefully considered that record and has reached a verdict.”

  Ward felt himself stiffen. He forced an expressionless mask over his face. They had already reached a verdict! That could mean only one thing.

  “However,” the general continued, “before we announce our decision it is your privilege to make any statement which you feel might shed additional light on the matter.”

  Ward fought to check the mounting flood of helpless, bitter anger that was raging through him; they were ready to drum him out of the service without anyone speaking a word in his behalf. Well, to hell with the Federation!

  “I have nothing to say,” he said. He barely opened his taut lips to speak. The general looked thoughtful.

  “In that case . . .” he began.

  “Pardon me, please, General Holmes,” a suave, polite voice said. “May I speak to Lieutenant Hanley for a moment?”

  The man who had spoken was seated at the end of the judicial bench. He was a dark, little man with the bars of a captain on his shoulder and the insignia of the Asiatic force on his sleeve. There was a bland smile on his round, inscrutable face as he leaned forward and regarded Ward with solemn, interested eyes.

  “Why, certainly, Captain Hakari,” General Holmes said. “You may ask the Lieutenant anything you like.”

  “Thank you, General,” the captain murmured. He shifted slightly to face Ward directly. “My dear young man, I am afraid that you feel a great bitterness toward this court which has the unpleasant task of deciding the—er—discretion of your actions while commanding the Astra.”

  Ward smiled impassively.

  “Very sharp of you to figure that out, Captain.”

  CAPTAIN HAKARI looked pained.

  His eyelids fluttered rapidly and he made deferential little gestures with his small, well-kept hands.

  “I am sincerely sorry you feel as you do, but I realize that your reaction is only normal. Naturally you feel bitter and cynical, but if you would try to adopt a more cooperative attitude, you would be doing yourself a great favor.”

  “Just what do you want to know, Captain?” Ward said coldly.

  “That is a little better,” Captain Hakari murmured. He paused long enough to press his fingertips together slowly and carefully before asking his first question.

  “This—ah—silver ship you saw, are you certain it carried no identifying insignia?”

  “Absolutely,” Ward said.

  Captain Hakari nodded thoughtfully. “And naturally that impressed you as peculiar, did it not?”

  “Certainly,” Ward said.

  “You couldn’t recognize its type from its silhouette?”

  “I could not,” said Ward. “And neither cou
ld anyone else. It was completely foreign to any merchant or service ship operating on our space lanes.”

  Captain Hakari smiled ruefully. “That is, of course, a broad statement, Lieutenant, but,” he paused again and pursed his lips, “at any rate it is not the important point. The important factor, Lieutenant, I regret to say, is the belligerent and savage attitude which prompted you to overstep your authority, disobey your orders and provoke an attack from what was, in all probability, a peaceful ship on a routine freight run.”

  Ward felt hot blood boiling up in his cheeks.

  “If it was a peaceful ship,” he snapped, “why didn’t it stand by under my orders? Why did it deliberately disregard the instructions of a Federation ship and then open fire?”

  “Let us not lose our tempers,” Captain Hakari said gently. “Your attitude, Lieutenant, is typical of a certain class of Federation officers who expect to force their authority on everything with which they come in contact. The necessity for such an attitude no longer exists, Lieutenant. We are at peace, and the only way we can maintain that peace is to put an end to the armaments that are responsible for the bullying, bull-dozing attitude which had always been the identifying mark of certain types of authority-drunk officers.”

  “NOW just a minute,” Ward snapped.

  “I didn’t come here to listen to a lot of smooth, oily insults. If you’re going to throw me out of the Federation, then do it. But let’s get it over with.”

  General Holmes shook his head slowly.

  “Most unfortunate attitude,” he muttered. “Most unfortunate. I agree with Captain Hakari. Your attitude is that of a fighting savage. You must learn to be temperate, my boy.”

  Ward looked at the general with a feeling that was close to pity. The general was a fool. A hopeless, impossible fool.

  Captain Hakari inclined his head slightly toward the general in a deferential gesture.

  “Thank you,” he murmured. “It is a great satisfaction to know that you concur with me, General.”

  “Since we agree,” the general said, gazing directly at Ward, “it remains but for us to inform you of the opinion of this court.” He picked up a sheet of paper from the desk, eyed it thoughtfully for a moment and then lifted his eyes to Ward. “Lieutenant Hanley,” he said slowly, “it is the considered verdict of this court that you—”

  There was a sudden commotion at the rear of the room. The general stopped speaking and glared in that direction, a frown settling over his features.

  A young man had forced his way past the guard at the door, shoved aside several ranking officers and was striding toward the judicial bench. When he reached Ward’s side he came to attention and saluted the officers of the court.

  Ward glanced at him from the side of his eyes and his heart almost stopped beating.

  “You fool!” he hissed under his breath. “Get the hell out of here.”

  Brick Masters’ long, lumpy face twisted in a lop-sided grin. His red hair was sticking up in disordered tufts, but there was a determined glint in his normally mild eyes.

  “Nuts to you,” he murmured.

  The general was leaning over the bench and his face was purple with inarticulate rage.

  “What’s the meaning of this intrusion?” he bellowed angrily.

  “Lieutenant Masters reporting, sir,” Brick said quietly. “I am here to confess that I was equally responsible along with Lieutenant Hanley for the command of the Astra on her last flight. I shared authority with him at Central Control and it was on my advice that we opened fire on the unidentified ship.”

  “Lieutenant Masters is attempting to make a noble gesture,” Ward said evenly. He swung on Brick. “Get out of here, you simple fool,” he said under his breath.

  LIEUTENANT HANLEY has been attempting to protect me.” Brick ignored Ward’s command and addressed his remarks directly to the general. “As a junior officer of the Astra I was as much responsible for her actions as Lieutenant Hanley.”

  “But I was in command,” Ward protested. “I was senior officer in charge of Central Control and all decisions in regard to the handling of the Astra were made by me and no one else. I refuse to let Lieutenant Masters incriminate himself in a foolish gesture of mistaken and juvenile loyalty.”

  Captain Hakari leaned forward. His bland face wore an expression of polite interest.

  “Lieutenant Hanley,” he murmured, “you are not in any position to decide whether or not Lieutenant Masters’ presence here is a gesture of loyalty, or whether it is actually the result of a desire to confess his guilt.”

  “But he’s not guilty of anything except obeying my orders,” Ward cried desperately.

  “Again I must remind you,” Captain Hakari said gently, “that the court will decide the question of whether or not your friend is guilty. In my opinion,” he said, turning slightly toward General Holmes, “Lieutenant Masters exhibits the same hostile attitude as our original defendant.”

  General Holmes cleared his throat and frowned over his papers at Brick.

  “I think you are correct, Captain Hakari,” he said. “Most unfortunate,” he muttered, shaking his head, “most unfortunate.”

  The other officers on the bench moved closer to the general and Captain Hakari dominated the brief discussion that followed. When the general finally nodded his head solemnly and lifted his gaze to Ward and Brick, his face was serious. It was obvious that he had made up his mind.

  “Lieutenants Hanley and Masters,” he said, “it is the opinion of this court that you two officers shall be held equally guilty for the command of the Astra”

  Ward glared disgustedly at Brick.

  “I hope you’re satisfied,” he said bitterly.

  Brick was grinning cheerfully. “You can bet your life I am,” he said.

  “Furthermore,” General Holmes continued, “we feel that both of you should be liable for the same—er—punishment.” He paused and frowned. “We do not feel that your actions were sufficiently culpable to force us to demand that you resign your commissions in the Federation service.”

  Ward listened with surprise to this statement. He had considered it a foregone conclusion that they would be mustered out of the service. What did the court martial have in mind?

  “Instead of that we are offering you the opportunity to join a special Federation force which is barracked on an asteroid group—ah—a considerable distance from Earth.”

  “Precisely where?” Ward asked.

  “Just a bit beyond Jupiter.”

  WARD glanced at Brick to see his reaction. The red head’s mouth was hanging slightly open and his eyes were wide with astonishment. Ward felt the same way himself. Jupiter was the no man’s land of solar space, never explored, never visited. It was a complete surprise to him that there was a Federation outpost in that bleak waste.

  Captain Hakari, he noticed, was watching them with shrewd, appraising eyes. There was, Ward thought, an expression of triumph on his bland features as he saw the consternation that was stamped on their faces; and he suddenly realized that the Captain didn’t want them to go to Jupiter. He wanted them to quit the Federation, resign their commissions.

  A bitter stubborn anger coursed through Ward’s veins. He didn’t intend to be chased out of the service.

  “I’ll accept the general’s proposal,” he said stiffly.

  He watched Hakari as he spoke and he saw, for a fleeting instant, a bitter expression of disappointment glide over the smooth brown features. But it was gone almost immediately.

  “Allow me to congratulate you,” he murmured. “But you understand the appointment to Jupiter is for five years?”

  Ward felt the captain’s words crash into his consciousness with an almost physical impact. Five years!

  His face hardened into a granite mask. But there was something in him that wouldn’t quit.

  “Five years is all right,” he said. Captain Hakari’s smile frosted at the edges.

  “I hope you will enjoy them, Lieutenant,” he sa
id. He shifted his bland eyes to Brick. “And you, Lieutenant Masters, have you decided?”

  “Why, sure,” Brick said. He grinned sardonically at Hakari. “I think I’m going to like Jupiter. There’s a lot of clean fresh air there that I’ll appreciate after today.”

  Hakari’s face whitened at Brick’s thinly-veiled insult, but he forced a smile over his taut features.

  “I hope you never regret your decision,” he said.

  “I have a hunch we won’t,” Brick said.

  General Holmes coughed himself back into the conversation.

  “Very well, you shall leave as soon as possible. You will fly a ship provided for your use by the space transport command. You will receive your clearance papers from them.” He glanced down at the papers in his hand and then leaned back in his chair. “That seems to be all,” he said quietly. “Court is dismissed.”

  CHAPTER III

  SIX days later Ward sighted the Jupiter asteroid group in the fore visi-screen of the slim, two-seater ship that had been assigned to them by the transport command.

  “Here we are,” he said wearily to Brick. “Better give them a flash that we’re coming in. I don’t know whether they expect us or not.”

  “What a barren dump,” Brick said bitterly. “Why the hell didn’t we use our common sense and tell that smirking monkey, Hakari, what he could do with this job?”

  Ward grinned, in spite of the feeling of despair that had been with him for the past week.

  “It’s your own fault, you carrot-topped dummy,” he said. “You had to make a noble gesture and look where it landed you.”

  Brick grimaced and turned his attention to the communication set.

  “There’s something funny about this whole set-up,” he said. “Hell, I didn’t even know we had a garrison here until the general mentioned it. And did you notice how anxious Hakari seemed to be for us to tell the general to go jump in the lake?”

  Ward nodded.

  “That’s the main reason I didn’t,” he said.

  A few minutes later the radio came alive, acknowledging Brick’s call and giving them directions for mooring. Ward made the necessary adjustments on the instrument panel and set the ignition timing device for the fore repulsion blasts.