Part 2 (1/2)

II

I stood on the turret balcony of the _Planetara_ with Captain Carter and Dr. Frank, the s.h.i.+p surgeon, watching the arriving pa.s.sengers. It was close to the zero hour; the level of the stage was a turmoil of confusion. The escalators, with the last of the freight aboard, were folded back. But the stage was jammed with incoming pa.s.senger luggage, the interplanetary customs and tax officials with their x-ray and zed-ray paraphernalia and the pa.s.sengers themselves, lined up for the export inspection.

At this height, the city lights lay spread in a glare of blue and yellow beneath us. The individual local planes came dropping like birds to our stage. Thirty-eight pa.s.sengers to Mars for this voyage, but that accursed desire of every friend and relative to speed the departing voyager brought a hundred or more extra people to crowd our girders and add to everybody's troubles.

Carter was too absorbed in his duties to stay with us long. But here in the turret Dr. Frank and I found ourselves at the moment with nothing much to do but watch.

Dr. Frank was a thin, dark, rather smallish man of fifty, trim in his blue and white uniform. I knew him well: we had made several flights together. An American--I fancy of Jewish ancestry. A likable man, and a skillful doctor and surgeon. He and I had always been good friends.

”Crowded,” he said. ”Johnson says thirty-eight. I hope they're experienced travelers. This pressure sickness is a rotten nuisance--keeps me das.h.i.+ng around all night a.s.suring frightened women they're not going to die. Last voyage, coming out of the Venus atmosphere--”

He plunged into a lugubrious account of his troubles with s.p.a.ce sick voyagers. But I was in no mood to listen to him. My gaze was down on the spider incline, up which, over the bend of the s.h.i.+p's sleek, silvery body, the pa.s.sengers and their friends were coming in little groups. The upper deck was already jammed with them.

The _Planetara_, as flyers go, was not a large vessel. Cylindrical of body, forty feet maximum beam, and two hundred and seventy-five feet in length. The pa.s.senger superstructure--no more than a hundred feet long--was set amids.h.i.+ps. A narrow deck, metallically enclosed, and with large bull's-eye windows, encircled the superstructure. Some of the cabins opened directly onto the deck. Others had doors to the interior corridors. There were half a dozen small but luxurious public rooms.

The rest of the vessel was given to freight storage and the mechanism and control compartments. Forward of the pa.s.senger structure the deck level continued under the cylindrical dome roof to the bow. The forward watch tower observatory was here, officers' cabins, Captain Carter's navigating rooms and Dr. Frank's office. Similarly, under the stern dome, was the stern watch tower and a series of power compartments.

Above the superstructure a confusion of spider bridges, ladders and balconies were laced like a metal network. The turret in which Dr.

Frank and I now stood was perched here. Fifty feet away, like a bird's nest, Snap's instrument room stood clinging to the metal bridge. The dome roof, with the gla.s.site windows rolled back now, rose in a mound peak to cover the highest middle portion of the vessel.

Below, in the main hull, blue lit metal corridors ran the entire length of the s.h.i.+p. Freight storage compartments; gravity control rooms; the air renewal system; heater and ventilators and pressure mechanisms--all were located there. And the kitchens, stewards'

compartments, and the living quarters of the crew. We carried a crew of sixteen, this voyage, exclusive of the navigating officers, the purser, Snap Dean, and Dr. Frank.

The pa.s.sengers coming aboard seemed a fair representation of what we usually had for the outward voyage to Ferrok-Shahn. Most were Earth people--and returning Martians. Dr. Frank pointed out one. A huge Martian in a grey cloak. A seven foot fellow.

”His name is _Set_ Miko,” Dr. Frank remarked. ”Ever heard of him?”

”No,” I said. ”Should I?”

”Well--” The doctor suddenly checked himself, as though he were sorry he had spoken.

”I never heard of him,” I repeated slowly.

An awkward silence fell between us.

There were a few Venus pa.s.sengers. I saw one of them presently coming up the incline, and recognized her. A girl traveling alone. We had brought her from Grebhar, last voyage but one. I remembered her. An alluring sort of girl, as most of them are. Her name was Venza. She spoke English well. A singer and dancer who had been imported to Greater New York to fill some theatrical engagement. She'd made quite a hit on the Great White Way.

She came up the incline with the carrier ahead of her. Gazing up, she saw Dr. Frank and me at the turret window, smiled and waved her white arm in greeting.

Dr. Frank laughed. ”By the G.o.ds of the airways, there's Alta Venza!

You saw that look, Gregg? That was for me, not you.”

”Reasonable enough,” I retorted. ”But I doubt it--the Venza is nothing if not impartial.”

I wondered what could be taking Venza now to Mars. I was glad to see her. She was diverting. Educated. Well traveled. Spoke English with a colloquial, theatrical manner more characteristic of Greater New York than of Venus. And for all her light banter, I would rather put my trust in her than any Venus girl I had ever met.

The hum of the departing siren was sounding. Friends and relatives of the pa.s.sengers were crowding the exit incline. The deck was clearing.