Part 13 (1/2)
”Ladies and gentlemen. Do not be alarmed. Because of certain mechanical difficulties the _Star Lord_ has s.h.i.+fted to normal s.p.a.ce. There is no immediate danger, but purely as a precautionary measure we shall launch the lifeboats. Remember, there is no danger, but I ask each of you to proceed at once, in calm orderly fas.h.i.+on, to the station to which you are a.s.signed, and there obey the orders of the officer in charge. The pa.s.sengers formerly a.s.signed to Boat C will be placed in other boats. Do not wait to go to your cabins. Proceed immediately to your lifeboats.”
The voice clicked off. A few seconds of silence, and then the quiet was broken by the patter of hurrying feet. In a moment, the public lounges were empty.
In the library, Tanya was still calling into the phone.
”Operator, operator!” she cried. ”I must speak to the Captain. It's a matter of life and death!” But the phone was dead.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
When the alarm bells rang, she listened to the announcement and then slowly put back the useless instrument. Back in her corner, she picked up her chalk, shuffled her drawings into an orderly heap, paused, and with a wry smile dropped them all to the floor and hurried away.
A sound of crying wailed from the open door of the playroom, and she looked in to see a group of children, none of them more than six, huddled together and sobbing. She walked up to them and smiled, hands on her hips.
”Well, small fry! What are you doing up so late? Why the big howls?”
Still they cried, ignoring their abandoned toys. Around the room hobby horses sat quietly, alphabet blocks lay scattered, and picture books and sprawling dolls littered the floor.
”So,” she said. ”Your nurses ran out on you, did they? Left you to s.h.i.+ft for yourselves? Never mind, youngsters, Aunt Tanya will look after you.
Take hands, now, and come with me.”
When the alarm rang in the Bar, a gla.s.s crashed to the floor as the only son of the deutonium millionaire jumped to his feet and ran.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
Professor Larrabee deliberately finished his drink, gently put down the gla.s.s, and stood up.
”Our final s.p.a.cecap,” he said. ”Well, Alan, it's been a good trip, but I can't say I'm surprised at its ending. The s.h.i.+p had the wrong name, from the beginning.”
”We'd better hurry, Professor. We must find Tanya and the Halls.”
”You're walking too fast for me, my boy. Don't worry. They're in Boat F, with us, and we're sure to find them there.”
In the corridor leading to F station their way was blocked by the crowd, many of them still wearing the grotesque costumes of the masquerade dance, now pale and tawdry in the bright lights. Stunned with horror, they stared through the transparent wall at the gaping socket where the lifeboat had been. Crewmen formed a tight circle around the truck and the man who lay moaning on the floor. Pistols ready, they held back the crowd while Dr. Willoughby administered an intravenous shot of panedol, and Captain Evans, kneeling beside the dying man, tried to catch his whispers.
”It was Mr. Jasperson, sir. He got me before I could do a thing. I tried to stop him.”
”You say you warned him?”
”I called to him, sir, and said the boat wasn't ready. But he didn't give me a chance. He shot me.”
The boy closed his eyes, and Evans stood up.
”Through an error, ladies and gentlemen, Boat F has already gone. You will please go to the other stations and wait for a.s.signment to the other boats.”
The crowd whispered, staring uncomprehendingly at the Captain's stony face.