Part 3 (2/2)

Maher close behind, they ran up the stairs on the Second's heels. Up the companionway they pounded, the Second increasing his lead. A door opened ahead of him and Ann O'Donnell appeared.

Symonds cursed and tried to pa.s.s her. Ann deftly slid out one pretty leg and the officer turned a somersault, and brought up against the wall at the foot of the stairs to the upper deck and the bridge.

But the Second was too frightened to let a little thing like a fall stop him. He went scrambling up the stairs on all fours. Gene was still too far away, and Ann moved like a streak of light. She sailed through the air in a long dancer's leap and with two bounds was up the stair, ahead of the scrambling, fear-stricken officer.

”Out of my way, b.i.t.c.h,” and Symonds hurled himself toward Ann.

Gene leaped forward, but he needn't have bothered. Ann lifted one of her educated feet, caught the Second under the chin and he came down the stair like a sack of meal. Gene caught his full weight.

The two men fell in a scramble of flailing arms and legs, knocking the props out from under Maher, who had started out after them. Just how the mixup might have turned out they were not to know, for just then the vast weight of Schwenky descended upon the three and Maher let out a scream of anguish. But Gene and Symonds were on the bottom, too crushed by this tactic to make a sound.

It was minutes later when Gene came back to consciousness, finding his head resting in Ann O'Donnell's lap while her swift hands prodded him here and there, looking for broken bones.

”I'm dead for sure,” groaned Gene.

”You've just had the wind knocked out of you. You'll be all right,” and Ann let his head fall from her grasp with a thump. She stood up, a little abashed at the going over she'd been giving him.

”Where're my mutineers?” Gene asked.

”Went to lock Symonds with the others. What is going to happen now? I'm not sure I like this development, now it's happened.”

”You should have thought of that before you tripped Symonds,” said Gene.

”But I'll admit there are problems. For instance, with all the officers in the brig, how can we be sure we can keep this atomic junk heap headed in the right direction?”

”What _is_ the correct direction?” asked Ann, squatting down beside him.

”I don't know. We'll have to figure it out, then see if we can point her that way.”

”Let's get up to the bridge,” she said.

Schwenky and Maher found them brooding over the series of levers and b.u.t.tons which comprised the control board. Schwenky noted their baffled frowns. His big face took on a worried look. ”You fix!” he said. ”You good fellow, Gene. We run s.h.i.+p, let officers go to h.e.l.l. Yah!”

Maher scratched one patch of greying hair over his left eye. The rest of his skull was covered with brown b.u.mps like fungus growths. ”It's just possible we'll wreck the s.h.i.+p, let the air out of her or something, if we experiment,” he warned.

”Go get MacNamara,” said Gene. ”He's been on the s.h.i.+p longer than any of us. Maybe he'll know.”

He didn't. ”All I know is grease cups,” he reminded Gene.

Hours later eighteen men and four women gathered together in the recreation room to discuss a plan of action. Everyone had his or her ideas, but after an hour of wrangling, they got nowhere. Finally Gene held up a hand and shouted for silence.

”Let's decide who's boss, then follow orders,” he said. ”If I may be so bold, how about me?”

”Yah!” said Schwenky. ”I do what you say. I like you!”

Old MacNamara grumbled to himself. ”Do nothing, I say. We ought to stick to our duty, and save the lives of those who would have to take our places....” The unguarded pile had given MacNamara a martyr complex.

Maher looked over at him. ”Your idea of sacrifice is all very fine, MacNamara. But we're not all anxious to die. You know what would happen now if we gave up!”

<script>