Part 9 (1/2)

”Where is this?”

”D-4-19.”.

Lesbee punched the b.u.t.tons that gave them a TV view of that particular s.h.i.+p location. Almost immediately he spotted a s.h.i.+mmer near the floor.

After a moment's survey he ordered a heavy-duty mobile blaster brought to the corridor. By the time its colossal energies ceased, Dzing was only a darkened area on the flat surface.

While these events were progressing, Lesbee had kept one eye on Browne and Mindel's blaster firmly gripped in his left hand. Now he said, ”Well, sir, you certainly did what you promised. Wait a moment while I put this gun away, and then I'll carry out my part of the bargain.”

He started to do so, then, out of pity, paused.

He had been thinking in the back of his mind about what Browne had said earlier: that the trip to Earth might only take a few months. The officer had backed away from that statement, but it had been bothering Lesbee ever since.

If it were true, then it was indeed a fact that n.o.body need die!

He said quickly, ”What was your reason for saying that the journey home would only take-well-less than a year?”

”It's the tremendous time compression,” Browne explained eagerly. The distance as you pointed out is over 12 light-years. But with a time ratio of 3, 4 or 500 to one, we'll make it in less than a month. When I first started to say that, I could see that the figures were incomprehensible to you in your tense mood. In fact, I could scarcely believe them myself.”

Lesbee said, staggered, ”We can get back to Earth in a couple of weeks-my G.o.d!” He broke off, said urgently, ”Look, I accept you as commander. We don't need an election. The status quo is good enough for any short period of time. Do you agree?”

”Of course,” said Browne. ”That's the point I've been trying to make.”

As he spoke, his face was utterly guileless.

Lesbee gazed at that mask of innocence, and he thought hopelessly: ”What's wrong? Why isn't he really agreeing? Is it because he doesn't want to lose his command so quickly?”

Sitting there, unhappily fighting for the other's life, he tried to place himself mentally in the position of the com-mander of a vessel, tried to look at the prospect of a return to view. It was hard to picture such a reality. But presently it seemed to him that he understood.

He said gently, feeling his way, ”It would be kind of a shame to return without having made a successful landing anywhere. With this new speed, we could visit a dozen sun systems, and still get home in a year.”

The look that came into Browne's face for a fleeting moment told Lesbee that he had penetrated to the thought in the man's mind.

The next instant, Browne was shaking his head vigorously. This is no time for side excursions,” he said.

”We'll leave explorations of new star systems to future expeditions. The people of this s.h.i.+p have served their term. We go straight home.”

Browne's face was now completely relaxed. His blue eyes shone with truth and sincerity.

There was nothing further that Lesbee could say. The gulf between Browne and himself could not be bridged.

The commander had to kill his rival, so that he might finally return to Earth and report that the mission of theHope of Man was accomplished.

8.

In the most deliberate fas.h.i.+on Lesbee shoved the blaster into the inner pocket of his coat. Then, as if he were being careful, he used the tractor beam to push Browne about four feet away. There he set him down, released him from the beam, and-with the same deliberateness-drew his hand away from the tractor controls. Thus he made himself completely defenseless.

It was the moment of vulnerability.

Browne leaped at him, yelling: ”Miller-pre-empt!”

First Officer Miller obeyed the command of his captain.

What happened then, only Lesbee, the technician with a thousand bits of detailed knowledge, expected.

For years it had been observed that when Control Room Below took over from Bridge, the s.h.i.+p speeded up slightly, and when Bridge took over from Control Room Below, the s.h.i.+p slowed instantly by the same amount-in each instance, something less then half a mile an hour.

The two boards were not completely synchronized. The technicians often joked about it, and Lesbee had once read an obscure technical explanation for the discrepancy. It had to do with the impossibility of ever getting two metals refined to the same precision of internal structure.

It was the age-old story of no two objects in the universe are alike. But in times past, the differential had meant nothing. It was a technical curiosity, an interesting phenom-enon of the science of metallurgy, a practical problem that caused machinists to curse good-naturedly when technicians like Lesbee required them to makea replacement part.

Unfortunately for Browne, the s.h.i.+p was now traveling near the speed of light.

His strong hands, reaching towards Lesbee's slighter body, were actually touching the latter's arm when the momentary deceleration occurred as Bridge took over. The sudden slow-down was at a much faster rate than even Lesbee expected. The resistance of s.p.a.ce to the forward movement of the s.h.i.+p must be using up more engine power than he had realized; it was taking a lot of thrust to maintain a one gravity acceleration.

The great vessel slowed about 150 miles per hour in the s.p.a.ce of a second.

Lesbee took the blow of that deceleration partly against his back, partly against one side-for he had half-turned to defend himself from the bigger man's attack.

Browne, who had nothing to grab on to, was flung for-ward at the full 150 miles per hour. He struck the control board with an audible thud, stuck to it as if he were glued there; and then, when the adjustment was over-when theHope of Man was again speeding along at one gravity-his body slid down the face of the board, and crumpled into a twisted position on the rubberized dais.

His uniform was discolored. As Lesbee watched, blood seeped through and dripped to the floor.

”Are you going to hold an election?” Tellier asked.

The big s.h.i.+p had turned back under Lesbee's command, and had picked up his friends. The lifeboat itself, with the remaining Karn still aboard, was put into an orbit aroundAltaIII and abandoned.

The two young men were sitting now in the Captain's cabin.

After the question was asked, Lesbee leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes. He didn't need to examine his total resistance to the suggestion. He had already savored the feeling that command brought.

Almost from the moment of Browne's death, he had observed himself having the same thoughts that Browne had voiced-among many others, the reasons why elections were not advisable aboard a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p. He waited now while Eleesa, one of his three wives-she being the younger of the two young widows of Browne-poured wine for them, and went softly out. Then he laughed grimly.

”My good friend,” he said, ”we're all lucky that time is so compressed at the speed of light. At 500-times compression, any further exploration we do will require only a few months, or years at most.

And so I don't think we can afford to take the chance of defeating at an election the only person who understands the details of the new acceleration method. Until I decide exactly how much exploration we shall do, I shall keep our speed capabilities a secret. But I did, and do, think one other person should know where I have this information doc.u.mented. Naturally, I selected First Officer Tellier.”

”Thank you, sir,” the youth said. But he was visibly thoughtful as he sipped his wine. He went on finally, ”Captain, I think you'd feel a lot better if you held an election. I'm sure you could win it.”

Lesbee laughed tolerantly, shook his head. ”I'm afraid you don't understand the dynamics of government,” he said. ”There's no record in history of a person who actually had control, handing it over.”