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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Place in the Sun, by C.H. Thames
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Place in the Sun
+
+Author: C.H. Thames
+
+Release Date: October 19, 2008 [EBook #26966]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PLACE IN THE SUN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Barbara Tozier and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+    This etext was produced from _Amazing Stories_ October 1956.
+    Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+    copyright on this publication was renewed.
+
+
+
+
+A "JOHNNY MAYHEM" ADVENTURE
+
+
+
+
+A PLACE IN THE SUN
+
+
+
+By C. H. THAMES
+
+
+    _Mayhem, the man of many bodies, had been given some weird
+    assignments in his time, but saving The Glory of the Galaxy
+    wasn't difficult--it was downright impossible!_
+
+
+The SOS crackled and hummed through subspace at a speed which left
+laggard light far behind. Since subspace distances do not coincide with
+normal space distances, the SOS was first picked up by a Fomalhautian
+freighter bound for Capella although it had been issued from a point in
+normal space midway between the orbit of Mercury and the sun's corona in
+the solar system.
+
+    [Illustration: The terrible weapon blasted death and carnage
+    through the ship.]
+
+The radioman of the Fomalhautian freighter gave the distress signal to
+the Deck Officer, who looked at it, blinked, and bolted 'bove decks to
+the captain's cabin. His face was very white when he reached the door
+and his heart pounded with excitement. As the Deck Officer crossed an
+electronic beam before the door a metallic voice said: "The Captain is
+asleep and will be disturbed for nothing but emergency priority."
+
+Nodding, the Deck officer stuck his thumb in the whorl-lock of the door
+and entered the cabin. "Begging your pardon, sir," he cried, "but we
+just received an SOS from--"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Captain stirred groggily, sat up, switched on a green night light
+and squinted through it at the Deck Officer. "Well, what is it? Isn't
+the Eye working?"
+
+"Yes, sir. An SOS, sir...."
+
+"If we're close enough to help, subspace or normal space, take the usual
+steps, lieutenant. Surely you don't need me to--"
+
+"The usual steps can't be taken, sir. Far as I can make out, that ship
+is doomed. She's bound on collision course for Sol, only twenty million
+miles out now."
+
+"That's too bad, lieutenant," the Captain said with genuine sympathy in
+his voice. "I'm sorry to hear that. But what do you want me to do about
+it?"
+
+"The ship, sir. The ship that sent the SOS--hold on to your hat, sir--"
+
+"Get to the point now, will you, young man?" the Captain growled
+sleepily.
+
+"The ship which sent the SOS signal, the ship heading on collision
+course for Sol, is the _Glory of the Galaxy_!"
+
+For a moment the Captain said nothing. Distantly, you could hear the hum
+of the subspace drive-unit and the faint whining of the stasis
+generator. Then the Captain bolted out of bed after unstrapping himself.
+In his haste he forgot the ship was in weightless deep space and went
+sailing, arms flailing air, across the room. The lieutenant helped him
+down and into his magnetic-soled shoes.
+
+"My God," the Captain said finally. "Why did it happen? Why did it have
+to happen to the _Glory of the Galaxy_?"
+
+"What are you going to do, sir?"
+
+"_I_ can't do anything. I won't take the responsibility. Have the
+radioman contact the Hub at once."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+_The Glory of the Galaxy_, the SOS ship heading on collision course with
+the sun, was making its maiden run from the assembly satellites of Earth
+across the inner solar system via the perihelion passage which would
+bring it within twenty-odd million miles of the sun, to Mars which now
+was on the opposite side of Sol from Earth. Aboard the gleaming new ship
+was the President of the Galactic Federation and his entire cabinet.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Fomalhautian freighter's emergency message was received at the Hub
+of the Galaxy within moments after it had been sent, although the normal
+space distance was in the neighborhood of one hundred thousand light
+years. The message was bounced--in amazingly quick time--from office to
+office at the hub, cutting through the usual red tape because of its top
+priority. And--since none of the normal agencies at the Hub could handle
+it--the message finally arrived at an office which very rarely received
+official messages of any kind. This was the one unofficial, extra-legal
+office at the Hub of the Galaxy. Lacking official function, the office
+had no technical existence and was not to be found in any Directory of
+the Hub. At the moment, two young men were seated inside. Their sole job
+was to maintain liaison with a man whose very existence was doubted by
+most of the human inhabitants of the Galaxy but whose importance could
+not be measured by mere human standards in those early days when the
+Galactic League was becoming the Galactic Federation.
+
+The name of the man with whom they maintained contact was Johnny Mayhem.
+
+"Did you read it?" the blond man asked.
+
+"I read it."
+
+"If it got down here, that means they can't handle it anywhere else."
+
+"Of course they can't. What the hell could normal slobs like them or
+like us do about it?"
+
+"Nothing, I guess. But wait a minute! You don't mean you're going to
+send Mayhem, without asking him, without telling--"
+
+"We can't ask him now, can we?"
+
+"Johnny Mayhem's _elan_ is at the moment speeding from Canopus to Deneb,
+where on the fourth planet of the Denebian system a dead body is waiting
+for him in cold storage. The turnover from League to Federation status
+of the Denebian system is causing trouble in Deneb City, so Mayhem--"
+
+"Deneb City will probably survive without Mayhem. Well, won't it?"
+
+"I guess so, but--"
+
+"I know. The deal is we're supposed to tell Mayhem where he's going and
+what he can expect. The deal also is, every inhabited world has a body
+waiting for his _elan_ in cold storage. But don't you think if we could
+talk to Mayhem now--"
+
+"It isn't possible. He's in transit."
+
+"Don't you think if we could talk to him now he would agree to board the
+_Glory of the Galaxy_?"
+
+"How should I know? I'm not Johnny Mayhem."
+
+"If he doesn't board her, it's certain death for all of them."
+
+"And if he does board her, what the hell can he do about it? Besides,
+there isn't any dead body awaiting his _elan_ on that ship or any ship.
+He wouldn't make a very efficacious ghost."
+
+"But there are live people. Scores of them. Mayhem's _elan_ is quite
+capable of possessing a living host."
+
+"Sure. Theoretically it is. But damn it all, what would the results be?
+We've never tried it. It's liable to damage Mayhem. As for the host--"
+
+"The host might die. I know it. But he'll die anyway. The whole shipload
+of them is heading on collision course for the sun."
+
+"Does the SOS say why?"
+
+"No. Maybe Mayhem can find out and do something about it."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Yeah, maybe. That's a hell of a way to risk the life of the most
+important man in the Galaxy. Because if Mayhem boards that ship and
+can't do anything about it, he'll die with the rest of them."
+
+"Why? We could always pluck his _elan_ out again."
+
+"_If_ he were inhabiting a dead one. In a live body, I don't think so.
+The attraction would be stronger. There would be forces of cohesion--"
+
+"That's true. Still, Mayhem's our only hope."
+
+"I'll admit it's a job for Mayhem, but he's too important."
+
+"Is he? Don't be a fool. What, actually, is Johnny Mayhem's importance?
+His importance lies in the very fact that he is expendable. His
+life--for the furtherance of the new Galactic Federation."
+
+"But--"
+
+"And the President is aboard that ship. Maybe he can't do as much for
+the Galaxy in the long run as Mayhem can, but don't you see, man, he's a
+figurehead. Right now he's the most important man in the Galaxy, and if
+we could talk to him I'm sure Mayhem would agree. Mayhem would want to
+board that ship."
+
+"It's funny, we've been working with Mayhem all these years and we never
+even met the guy."
+
+"Would you know him if you saw him?"
+
+"Umm-mm, I guess not. Do you think we really can halt his _elan_ in
+subspace and divert it over to the _Glory of the Galaxy_?"
+
+"I take it you're beginning to see things my way. And the answer to your
+question is yes."
+
+"Poor Mayhem. You know, I actually feel sorry for the guy. He's had more
+adventures than anyone since Homer wrote the _Odyssey_ and there won't
+ever be any rest for him."
+
+"Stop feeling sorry for him and start hoping he succeeds."
+
+"Yeah."
+
+"And let's see about getting a bead on his _elan_."
+
+The two young men walked to a tri-dim chart which took up much of the
+room. One of them touched a button and blue light glowed within the
+chart, pulsing brightly and sharply where space-sectors intersected.
+
+"He's in C-17 now," one of the men said as a gleaming whiteness was
+suddenly superimposed at a single point on the blue.
+
+"Can you bead him?"
+
+"I think so. But I still feel sorry for Mayhem. He's expecting to wake
+up in a cold-storage corpse on Deneb IV but instead he'll come to in a
+living body aboard a spaceship on collision course for the sun."
+
+"Just hope he--"
+
+"I know. Succeeds. I don't even want to think of the possibility he
+might fail."
+
+In seconds, the gleaming white dot crawled across the surface of the
+tri-dim chart from sector C-17 to sector S-1.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The _Glory of the Galaxy_ was now nineteen million miles out from the
+sun and rushing through space at a hundred miles per second, normal
+space drive. The _Glory of the Galaxy_ thus moved a million miles closer
+to fiery destruction every three hours--but since the sun's
+gravitational force had to be added to that speed, the ship was slated
+to plunge into the sun's corona in little more than twenty-four hours.
+
+Since the ship's refrigeration units would function perfectly until the
+outer hull reached a temperature of eleven hundred degrees Fahrenheit,
+none of its passengers knew that anything was wrong. Even the members of
+the crew went through all the normal motions. Only the _Glory of the
+Galaxy's_ officers in their bright new uniforms and gold braid knew the
+grim truth of what awaited the gleaming two-thousand ton spaceship less
+than twenty-four hours away at the exact center of its perihelion
+passage.
+
+Something--unidentified as yet--in all the thousands of intricate things
+that could go wrong on a spaceship, particularly a new one making its
+maiden voyage, had gone wrong. The officers were checking their
+catalogues and their various areas of watch meticulously--and not
+because their own lives were at stake. In spaceflight, your own life
+always is at stake. There are too many imponderables: you are, to a
+certain degree, expendable. The commissioned contingent aboard the
+_Glory of the Galaxy_ was a dedicated group, hand-picked from all the
+officers in the solar system.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But they could find nothing. And do nothing.
+
+Within a day, their lives along with the lives of the enlisted men
+aboard the _Glory of the Galaxy_ and the passengers on its maiden run,
+would be snuffed out in a brilliant burst of solar heat.
+
+And the President of the Galactic Federation would die because some
+unknown factor had locked the controls of the spaceship, making it
+impossible to turn or use forward rockets against the gravitational pull
+of the sun.
+
+Nineteen million miles. In normal space, a considerable distance. A
+hundred miles a second--a very considerable normal space speed.
+Increasing....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ever since they had left Earth's assembly satellites, Sheila Kelly had
+seen a lot of a Secret Serviceman named Larry Grange, who was a member
+of the President's corps of bodyguards. She liked Larry, although there
+was nothing serious in their relationship. He was handsome and charming
+and she was naturally flattered with his attentions. Still, although he
+was older than Sheila, she sensed that he was a boy rather than a man
+and had the odd feeling that, faced with a real crisis, he would confirm
+this tragically.
+
+It was night aboard the _Glory of the Galaxy_. Which was to say the
+blue-green night lights had replaced the white day lights in the
+companionways and public rooms of the spaceship, since its ports were
+sealed against the fierce glare of the sun. It was hard to believe,
+Sheila thought, that they were only nineteen million miles from the sun.
+Everything was so cool--so comfortably air-conditioned....
+
+She met Larry in the Sunside Lounge, a cabaret as nice as any terran
+nightclub she had ever seen. There were stylistic Zodiac drawings on the
+walls and blue-mirrored columns supporting the roof. Like everything
+else aboard the _Glory of the Galaxy_, the Sunside Lounge hardly seemed
+to belong on a spaceship. For Sheila Kelly, though--herself a third
+secretary with the department of Galactic Economy--it was all very
+thrilling.
+
+"Hello, Larry," she said as the Secret Serviceman joined her at their
+table. He was a tall young man in his late twenties with crewcut blond
+hair; but he sat down heavily now and did not offer Sheila his usual
+smile.
+
+"Why, what on earth is the matter?" Sheila asked him.
+
+"Nothing. I need a drink, that's all."
+
+The drinks came. Larry gulped his and ordered another. His complete
+silence baffled Sheila, who finally said:
+
+"Surely it isn't anything I did."
+
+"You? Don't be silly."
+
+"Well! After the way you said that I don't know if I should be glad or
+not."
+
+"Just forget it. I'm sorry, kid. I--" He reached out and touched her
+hand. His own hand was damp and cold.
+
+"Going to tell me, Larry?"
+
+"Listen. What's a guy supposed to do if he overhears something he's not
+supposed to overhear, and--"
+
+"How should I know unless you tell me what you overheard? It is you
+you're talking about, isn't it?"
+
+"Yeah. I was going off duty, walking by officer quarters and ... oh,
+forget it. I better not tell you."
+
+"I'm a good listener, Larry."
+
+"Look, Irish. You're a good anything--and that's the truth. You have
+looks and you have brains and I have a hunch through all that Emerald
+Isle sauciness you have a heart too. But--"
+
+"But you don't want to tell me."
+
+"It isn't I don't want to, but no one's supposed to know, not even the
+President."
+
+"You sure make it sound mysterious."
+
+"Just the officers. Oh, hell. I don't know. What good would it do if I
+told you?"
+
+"I guess you'd just get it off your chest, that's all."
+
+"I can't tell anyone official, Sheila. I'd have my head handed to me.
+But I've got to think and I've got to tell someone. I'll go crazy, just
+knowing and not doing anything."
+
+"It's important, isn't it?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Larry downed another drink quickly. It was his fourth and Sheila had
+never seen him take more than three or four in the course of a whole
+evening. "You're damned right it's important." Larry leaned forward
+across the postage-stamp table. A liquor-haze clouded his eyes as he
+said: "It's so important that unless someone does something about it,
+we'll all be dead inside of twenty-four hours. Only trouble is, there
+isn't anything anyone can do about it."
+
+"Larry--you're a little drunk."
+
+"I know it. I know I am. I want to be a lot drunker. What the hell can a
+guy do?"
+
+"What do you know, Larry? What have you heard?"
+
+"I know they have the President of the Galactic Federation aboard this
+ship and that he ought to be told the truth."
+
+"No. I mean--"
+
+"They sent out an SOS, kid. Controls are locked. Lifeboats don't have
+enough power to get us out of the sun's gravitational pull. We're all
+going to roast, I tell you!"
+
+Sheila felt her heart throb wildly. Even though he was well on the way
+to being thoroughly drunk, Larry was telling the truth. Instinctively,
+she knew that--was certain of it. "What are you going to do?" she said.
+
+He shrugged. "I guess because I can't do a damned thing I'm going to get
+good and drunk. That's what I'm going to do. Or maybe--who the hell
+knows?--maybe in one minute I'm going to jump up on this table and tell
+everyone what I overheard. Maybe I ought to do that, huh?"
+
+"Larry, Larry--if it's as bad as you say, maybe you ought to think
+before you do anything."
+
+"Who am I to think? I'm one of the muscle men. That's what they pay me
+for, isn't it?"
+
+"Larry. You don't have to shout."
+
+"Well, isn't it?"
+
+"If you don't calm down I'll have to leave."
+
+"You can sit still. You can park here all night. _I'm_ leaving."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"Oh ... that." Larry got up from the table. He looked suddenly green and
+Sheila thought it was because he had too much to drink. "You don't have
+to worry about that, Sheila. Not now you don't. I all of a sudden don't
+feel so good. Headache. Man, I never felt anything like it. Better go to
+my cabin and lie down. Maybe I'll wake up and find out all this was a
+dream, huh?"
+
+"Do you need any help?" Sheila demanded, real concern in her voice.
+
+"No. 'Sall right. Man, this headache really snuck up on me. Pow! Without
+any warning."
+
+"Let me help you."
+
+"No. Just leave me alone, will you?" Larry staggered off across the
+crowded dance floor. He drew angry glances and muttered comments as he
+disturbed the dancers waltzing to Carlotti's _Danube in Space_.
+
+Why don't you admit it, Grange, Larry thought as he staggered through
+the companionway toward his cabin. That's what you always wanted, isn't
+it--a place of importance?
+
+A place in the sun, they call it.
+
+"You're going to get a place in the sun, all right," he mumbled aloud.
+"Right smack in the middle of the sun with everyone else aboard this
+ship!"
+
+The humor of it amused him perversely. He smiled--but it was closer to a
+leer--and lunged into his cabin. What he said to Sheila was no joke. He
+really did have a splitting headache. It had come on suddenly and it was
+like no headache he had ever known. It pulsed and throbbed and beat
+against his temples and held red hot needles to the backs of his
+eyeballs, almost blinding him. It sapped all his strength, leaving him
+physically weak. He was barely able to close the door behind him and
+stagger to the shower.
+
+An ice cold shower, he thought would help. He stripped quickly and got
+under the needle spray. By that time he was so weak he could barely
+stand.
+
+A place in the sun, he thought....
+
+Something grabbed his mind and wrenched it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Johnny Mayhem awoke.
+
+Awakening came slowly, as it always did. It was a rising through
+infinite gulfs, a rebirth for a man who had died a hundred times and
+might die a thousand times more as the years piled up and became
+centuries. It was a spinning, whirling, flashing ascent from blackness
+to coruscating colors, brightness, giddiness.
+
+And suddenly, it was over.
+
+A needle spray of ice-cold water beat down upon him. He shuddered and
+reached for the water-taps, shutting them. Dripping, he climbed from the
+shower.
+
+And floated up--quite weightless--toward the ceiling.
+
+Frowning with his new and as yet unseen face, Johnny Mayhem propelled
+himself to the floor. He looked at his arms. He was naked--at least that
+much was right.
+
+But obviously, since he was weightless, he was not on Deneb IV. During
+his transmigration he had been briefed for the trouble on Deneb IV. Then
+had a mistake been made somehow? It was always possible--but it had
+never happened before.
+
+Too much precision and careful planning was involved.
+
+Every world which had an Earthman population and a Galactic League--now,
+Galactic Federation--post, must have a body in cold storage, waiting for
+Johnny Mayhem if his services were required. No one knew when Mayhem's
+services might be required. No one knew exactly under what circumstances
+the Galactic Federation Council, operating from the Hub of the Galaxy,
+might summon Mayhem. And only a very few people, including those at the
+Hub and the Galactic League Firstmen on civilized worlds and Observers
+on frontier planets, knew the precise mechanics of Mayhem's coming.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Johnny Mayhem, a bodiless sentience. Mayhem--Johnny Marlow then--who
+had been chased from Earth a pariah and a criminal seven years ago, who
+had been mortally wounded on a wild planet deep within the Sagittarian
+Swarm, whose life had been saved--after a fashion--by the white magic
+of that planet. Mayhem, doomed now to possible immortality as a
+bodiless sentience, an _elan_, which could occupy and activate a corpse
+if it had been preserved properly ... an _elan_ doomed to wander
+eternally because it could not remain in one body for more than a month
+without body and _elan_ perishing. Mayhem, who had dedicated his
+strange, lonely life to the services of the Galactic League--now the
+Galactic Federation--because a normal life and normal social relations
+were not possible to him....
+
+It did not seem possible, Mayhem thought now, that a mistake could be
+made. Then--a sudden change in plans?
+
+It had never happened before, but it was entirely possible. Something,
+Mayhem decided, had come up during transmigration. It was terribly
+important and the people at the Hub had had no opportunity to brief him
+on it.
+
+But--what?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+His first shock came a moment later. He walked to a mirror on the wall
+and approved of the strong young body which would house his sentience
+and then scowled. A thought inside his head said:
+
+_So this is what it's like to have schizophrenia._
+
+_What the hell was that?_ Mayhem thought.
+
+_I said, so this is what it's like to have schizophrenia. First the
+world's worst headache and then I start thinking like two different
+people._
+
+_Aren't you dead?_
+
+_Is that supposed to be a joke, alter ego? When do the men in the white
+suits come?_
+
+_Good Lord, this was supposed to be a dead body!_
+
+At that, the other sentience which shared the body with Mayhem snickered
+and lapsed into silence. Mayhem, for his part, was astounded.
+
+_Don't get ornery now_, Mayhem pleaded. _I'm Johnny Mayhem. Does that
+mean anything to you?_
+
+_Oh, sure. It means I'm dead. You inhabit dead bodies, right?_
+
+_Usually. Listen--where are we?_
+
+Glory of the Galaxy--_bound from Earth to Mars on perihelion._
+
+_And there's trouble?_
+
+_How do you know there's trouble?_
+
+_Otherwise they wouldn't have diverted me here._
+
+_We've got the president aboard. We're going to hit the sun._ Then,
+grudgingly, Larry went into the details. When he finished he thought
+cynically: _Now all you have to do is go outside yelling have no fear,
+Mayhem is here and everything will be all right, I suppose._
+
+Mayhem didn't answer. It would be many moments yet before he could
+adjust to this new, unexpected situation. But in a way, he thought, it
+would be a boon. If he were co-inhabiting the body of a living man who
+belonged on the _Glory of the Galaxy_, there was no need to reveal his
+identity as Johnny Mayhem to anyone but his host....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I tell ya," Technician First Class Ackerman Boone shouted, "the
+refrigeration unit's gone on the blink. You can't feel it yet, but I
+ought to know. I got the refrigs working full strength and we gained a
+couple of degrees heat. Either she's on the blink or we're too close to
+the sun, I tell you!"
+
+Ackerman Boone was a big man, a veteran spacer with a squat, very strong
+body and arms like an orangutan. Under normal circumstances he was a
+very fine spacer and a good addition to any crew, but he bore an
+unreasonable grudge against the officer corps and would go out of his
+way to make them look bad in the eyes of the other enlisted men. A large
+crowd had gathered in the hammock-hung crew quarters of the _Glory of
+the Galaxy_ as Boone went on in his deep, booming voice: "So I asked the
+skipper of the watch, I did. He got shifty-eyed, like they always do.
+You know. He wasn't talking, but sure as my name's Ackerman Boone,
+something's wrong."
+
+"What do you think it is, Acky?" one of the younger men asked.
+
+"Well, I tell ya this: I know what it _isn't_. I checked out the refrigs
+three times, see, and came up with nothing. The refrigs are in jig
+order, and if I know it then you know it. So, if the refrigs are in jig
+order, there's only one thing it can be: we're getting too near the
+sun!" Boone clamped his mouth shut and stood with thick, muscular arms
+crossed over his barrel chest.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A young technician third class said in a strident voice, "You mean you
+think maybe we're plunging into the sun, Acky?"
+
+"Well, now, I didn't say that. Did I, boy? But we _are_ too close and if
+we are too close there's got to be a reason for it. If we stay too close
+too long, O.K. Then we're plunging into the sun. Right now, I dunno."
+
+They all asked Ackerman Boone, who was an unofficial leader among them,
+what he was going to do. He rubbed his big fingers against the thick
+stubble of beard on his jaw and you could hear the rasping sound it
+made. Then he said, "Nothing, until we find out for sure. But I got a
+hunch the officers are trying to pull the wool over the eyes of them
+politicians we got on board. That's all right with me, men. If they want
+to, they got their reasons. But I tell ya this: they ain't going to pull
+any wool over Acky Boone's eyes, and that's a fact."
+
+Just then the squawk box called: "Now hear this! Now hear this! Tech/1
+Ackerman Boone to Exec's office. Tech/1 Boone to Exec."
+
+"You see?" Boone said, smiling grimly. As yet, no one saw. His face
+still set in a grim smile, Ackerman Boone headed above decks.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"That, Mr. President," Vice Admiral T. Shawnley Stapleton said gravely,
+"is the problem. We would have come to you sooner, sir, but frankly--"
+
+"I know it, Admiral," the President said quietly. "I could not have
+helped you in any way. There was no sense telling me."
+
+"We have one chance, sir, and one only. It's irregular and it will
+probably knock the hell out of the _Glory of the Galaxy_, but it may
+save our lives. If we throw the ship suddenly into subspace we could
+pass right through the sun's position and--"
+
+"I'm no scientist, Admiral, but wouldn't that put tremendous stress not
+only on the ship but on all of us aboard?"
+
+"It would, sir. I won't keep anything from you, of course. We'd all be
+subjected to a force of twenty-some gravities for a period of several
+seconds. Here aboard the _Glory_, we don't have adequate G-equipment.
+It's something like the old days of air flight, sir: as soon as
+airplanes became reasonably safe, passenger ships didn't bother to carry
+parachutes. Result over a period of fifty years: thousands of lives
+lost. We'd all be bruised and battered, sir. Bones would be broken.
+There might be a few deaths. But I see no other way out, sir."
+
+"Then there was no need to check with me at all, I assure you, Admiral
+Stapleton. Do whatever you think is best, sir."
+
+The Admiral nodded gravely. "Thank you, Mr. President. I will say this,
+though: we will wait for a miracle."
+
+"I'm afraid I don't follow you."
+
+"Well, I don't expect a miracle, but the switchover to subspace so
+suddenly is bound to be dangerous. Therefore, we'll wait until the last
+possible moment. It will grow uncomfortably warm, let me warn you, but
+as long as the subspace drive is in good working order--"
+
+"I see what you mean, Admiral. You have a free hand, sir; let me repeat
+that. I will not interfere in any way and I have the utmost confidence
+in you." The President mopped his brow with an already damp
+handkerchief. It _was_ growing warm, come to think of it. Uncomfortably
+warm.
+
+As if everyone aboard the _Glory of the Galaxy_ was slowly being broiled
+alive....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ackerman Boone entered the crew quarters with the same smile still on
+his lips. At first he said nothing, but his silence drew the men like a
+magnet draws iron filings. When they had all clustered about him he
+spoke.
+
+"The Exec not only chewed my ears off," he boomed. "He all but spit them
+in my face! I was right, men. He admitted it to me after he saw how he
+couldn't get away with anything in front of Ackerman Boone. Men, we're
+heading on collision course with the sun!"
+
+A shocked silence greeted his words and Ackerman Boone, instinctively a
+born speaker, paused dramatically to allow each man the private horror
+of his own thoughts for a few moments. Then he continued: "The Admiral
+figures we have one chance to get out of this alive, men. He figures--"
+
+"What is it, Acky?"
+
+"What will he do?"
+
+"How will the Admiral get us out of this?"
+
+Ackerman Boone spat on the polished, gleaming floor of the crew
+quarters. "He'll never get us out alive, let me tell you. He wants to
+shift us into subspace at the last possible minute. Suddenly. Like
+this--" and Ackerman Boone snapped his fingers.
+
+"There'd be a ship full of broken bones!" someone protested. "We can't
+do a thing like that."
+
+"He'll kill us all!" a very young T/3 cried hysterically.
+
+"Not if I can help it, he won't," shouted Ackerman Boone. "Listen, men.
+This ain't a question of discipline. It's a question of living or dying
+and I tell you that's more important than doing it like the book says or
+discipline or anything like that. We got a chance, all right: but it
+ain't what the Admiral thinks it is. We ought to abandon the _Glory_ to
+her place in the sun and scram out of here in the lifeboats--every last
+person aboard ship."
+
+"But will they have enough power to get out of the sun's gravitational
+pull?" someone asked.
+
+Ackerman Boone shrugged. "Don't look at me," he said mockingly. "I'm
+only an enlisted man and they don't give enlisted men enough math to
+answer questions like that. But reckoning by the seat of my pants I
+would say, yes. Yes, we could get away like that--if we act fast.
+Because every minute we waste is a minute that brings us closer to the
+sun and makes it harder to get away in the lifeboats. If we act, men, we
+got to act fast."
+
+"You're talking mutiny, Boone," a grizzled old space veteran said. "You
+can count me out."
+
+"What's the matter, McCormick? Yellow?"
+
+"I'm not yellow. I say it takes guts to maintain discipline in a real
+emergency. I say _you're_ yellow, Boone."
+
+"You better be ready to back that up with your fists, McCormick," Boone
+said savagely.
+
+"I'm ready any time you're ready, you yellow mutinous bastard!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ackerman Boone launched himself at the smaller, older man, who stood his
+ground unflinchingly although he probably knew he would take a sound
+beating. But four or five crewmen came between them and held them apart,
+one saying:
+
+"Look who's talking, Boone. You say time's precious but you're all set
+to start fighting. Every minute--"
+
+"Every _second_," Boone said grimly, "brings us more than a hundred
+miles closer to the sun."
+
+"What can we do, Acky?"
+
+Instead of answer, Ackerman Boone dramatically mopped the sweat from his
+face. All the men were uncomfortably warm now. It was obvious that the
+temperature within the _Glory of the Galaxy_ had now climbed fifteen or
+twenty degrees despite the fact that the refrigs were working at full
+capacity. Even the bulkheads and the metal floor of crew quarters were
+unpleasantly warm to the touch. The air was hot and suddenly very dry.
+
+"I'll tell you what we ought to do," Ackerman Boone said finally.
+"Admiral Stapleton or no Admiral Stapleton, President of the Galactic
+Federation or no President of the Galactic Federation, we ought to take
+over this ship and man the life boats for everyone's good. If they don't
+want to save their lives and ours--let's us save our lives and theirs!"
+
+Roars of approval greeted Boone's words, but Spacer McCormick and some
+of the other veterans stood apart from the loud speech-making which
+followed. Actually, Boone's wild words--which he gambled with after the
+first flush of enthusiasm for his plan--began to lose converts. One by
+one the men drifted toward McCormick's silent group until, finally,
+Boone had lost almost his entire audience.
+
+Just then a T/2 rushed into crew quarters and shouted: "Hey, is Boone
+around? Has anyone seen Boone?"
+
+This brought general laughter. Under the circumstances, the question was
+not without its humorous aspect.
+
+"What'll you have?" Boone demanded.
+
+"The refrigs, Boone! They are on the blink. Overstrained themselves and
+burned themselves out. Inside of half an hour this ship's going to be an
+oven hot enough to kill us all!"
+
+"Half an hour, men!" Ackerman Boone cried. "Now, do we take over the
+ship and man those lifeboats or don't we!"
+
+The roar which followed his words was a decidedly affirmative one.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"These are the figures," Admiral Stapleton said. "You can see, Mr.
+President, that we have absolutely no chance whatever if we man the
+lifeboats. We would perish as assuredly as we would if we remained with
+the _Glory of the Galaxy_ in normal space."
+
+"Admiral, I have to hand it to you. I don't know how you can think--in
+all this heat."
+
+"Have to, sir. Otherwise we all die."
+
+"The air temperature--"
+
+"Is a hundred and thirty degrees and rising. We've passed salt tablets
+out to everyone, sir, but even then it's only a matter of time before
+we're all prostrated. If you're sure you give your permission, sir--"
+
+"Admiral Stapleton, you are running this ship, not I."
+
+"Very well, sir. I've sent our subspace officer, Lieutenant Ormundy, to
+throw in the subspace drive. We should know in a few moments--"
+
+"No crash hammocks or anything?"
+
+"I'm sorry, sir."
+
+"It isn't your fault, Admiral. I was merely pointing out a fact."
+
+The squawk box blared: "Now hear this! Now hear this! T/3 Ackerman Boone
+to Admiral Stapleton. Are you listening, Admiral?"
+
+Admiral Stapleton's haggard, heat-worn face bore a look of astonishment
+as he listened. Ackerman said, "We have Lieutenant Ormundy, Admiral.
+He's not killing us all by putting us into subspace in minutes when it
+ought to take hours, you understand. We have Ormundy and we have the
+subspace room. A contingent of our men is getting the lifeboats ready.
+We're going to abandon ship, Admiral, all of us, including you and the
+politicians even if we have to drag you aboard the lifeboats at
+N--gunpoint."
+
+Admiral Stapleton's face went ashen. "Let me at a radio!" he roared. "I
+want to answer that man and see if he understands exactly what mutiny
+is!"
+
+While Ackerman Boone was talking over the squawk box, the temperature
+within the _Glory of the Galaxy_ rose to 145° Fahrenheit.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Fifteen minutes," Larry Grange said. "In fifteen minutes the heat will
+have us all unconscious." Only it wasn't Larry alone who was talking. It
+was Larry and Johnny Mayhem. In a surprisingly short time the young
+Secret Serviceman had come to accept the dual occupation of his own
+mind. It was there: it was either dual occupation or insanity and if the
+voice which spoke inside his head said it was Johnny Mayhem, then it was
+Johnny Mayhem. Besides, Larry felt clear-headed in a way he had never
+felt before, despite the terrible, sapping heat. It was as if he had
+matured suddenly--the word matured came to him instinctively--in the
+space of minutes. Or, as if a maturing influence were at work on his
+mind.
+
+"What can we do?" Sheila said. "The crew has complete control of the
+ship."
+
+"Secret Service chief says we're on our own. There's no time for
+co-ordinated planning, but somehow, within a very few minutes, we've got
+to get inside the subspace room and throw the ship out of normal space
+or we'll all be roasted."
+
+"Some of your men are there now, aren't they?"
+
+"In the companionway outside the subspace room, yeah. But they'll never
+force their way in time. Not with blasters and not with N-guns, either.
+Not in ten minutes, they won't."
+
+"Larry, all of a sudden I--I'm scared. We're all going to die, Larry. I
+don't want--Larry, what are you going to do?"
+
+They had been walking in a deserted companionway which brought them to
+one of the aft escape hatches of the _Glory of the Galaxy_. Their
+clothing was plastered to their bodies with sweat and every breath was
+agonizing, furnace hot.
+
+"I'm going outside," Larry said quietly.
+
+"Outside? What do you mean?"
+
+"Spacesuit, outside. There's a hatch in the subspace room. If their
+attention is diverted to the companionway door, I may be able to get in.
+It's our only chance--ours, and everyone's."
+
+"But the spacesuit--"
+
+"I know," Larry said even as he was climbing into the inflatable vacuum
+garment. It was Larry--and it wasn't Larry. He felt a certain
+confidence, a certain sense of doing the right thing--a feeling which
+Larry Grange had never experienced before in his life. It was as if the
+boy had become a man in the final moments of his life--or, he thought
+all at once, it was as if Johnny Mayhem who shared his mind and his body
+with him was somehow transmitting some of his own skills and confidence
+even as he--Mayhem--had reached the decision to go outside.
+
+"I know," he said. "The spacesuit isn't insulated sufficiently. I'll
+have about three minutes out there. Three minutes to get inside.
+Otherwise, I'm finished."
+
+"But Larry--"
+
+"Don't you see, Sheila? What does it matter? Who wants the five or ten
+extra minutes if we're all going to die anyway? This way, there's a
+chance."
+
+He buckled the spacesuit and lifted the heavy fishbowl helmet, preparing
+to set it on his shoulders.
+
+"Wait," Sheila said, and stood on tiptoes to take his face in her hands
+and kiss him on the lips. "You--you're different," Sheila said. "You're
+the same guy, a lot of fun, but you're a--man, too. This is for what
+might have been, Larry," she said, and kissed him again. "This is
+because I love you."
+
+Before he dropped the helmet in place, Larry said. "It isn't for what
+might have been, Sheila. It's for what will be."
+
+The helmet snapped shut over the shoulder ridges of the spacesuit.
+Moments later, he had slipped into the airlock.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I say you're a fool, Ackerman Boone!" one of the enlisted men rasped at
+the leader of the mutiny. "I say now we've lost our last chance. Now
+it's too late to get into the lifeboats even if we wanted to. Now all we
+can do is--die!"
+
+There were still ten conscious men in the subspace room. The others had
+fallen before heat prostration and lay strewn about the floor, wringing
+wet and oddly flaccid as if all the moisture had been wrung from their
+bodies except for the sweat which covered their skins.
+
+"All right," Ackerman Boone admitted. "All right, so none of us knows
+how to work the subspace mechanism. You think that would have helped? It
+would have killed us all, I tell you."
+
+"It was a chance, Boone. Our last chance and you--"
+
+"Just shut up!" Boone snarled. "I know what you're thinking. You're
+thinking we ought to let them officers and Secret Servicemen to ram home
+the subspace drive. But use your head, man. Probably they'll kill us
+all, but if they don't--"
+
+"Then you admit there's a chance!"
+
+"Yeah. All right, a chance. But if they don't kill us all, if they save
+us by ramming home the subspacer, what happens? We're all taken in on a
+mutiny charge. It's a capital offense, you fool!"
+
+"Well, it's better than sure death," the man said, and moved toward the
+door.
+
+"Allister, wait!" Boone cried. "Wait, I'm warning you. Any man who tries
+to open that door--"
+
+Outside, a steady booming of blaster fire could be heard, but the
+assault-proof door stood fast.
+
+"--is going to get himself killed!" Boone finished.
+
+Grimly, Allister reached the door and got his already blistered fingers
+on the lock mechanism.
+
+Ackerman Boone shot him in the back with an N-gun.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Larry's whole body felt like one raw mass of broken blisters as, flat on
+his belly, he inched his way along the outside hull of the _Glory of the
+Galaxy_. He had no idea what the heat was out here, but it radiated off
+the hot hull of the _Glory_ in scalding, suffocating waves which swept
+right through the insulining of the spacesuit. If he didn't find the
+proper hatch, and in a matter of seconds....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Anyone else?" Ackerman Boone screamed. "Anyone else like Allister?"
+
+But one by one the remaining men were dropping from the heat.
+Finally--alone--Ackerman Boone faced the door and stared defiantly at
+the hot metal as if he could see his adversaries through it. On the
+other side, the firing became more sporadic as the officers and Secret
+Servicemen collapsed. His mind crazed with the heat and with fear,
+Ackerman Boone suddenly wished he could see the men through the door,
+wished he could see them die....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was this hatch or nothing. He thought it was the right one, but
+couldn't be sure. He could no longer see. His vision had gone
+completely. The pain was a numb thing now, far away, hardly a part of
+himself. Maybe Mayhem was absorbing the pain-sensation for him, he
+thought. Maybe Mayhem took the pain and suffered with it in the shared
+body so he, Larry, could still think. Maybe--
+
+His blistered fingers were barely able to move within the insulined
+gloves, Larry fumbled with the hatch.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ackerman Boone whirled suddenly. He had been intent upon the
+companionway door and the sounds behind him--which he had heard but not
+registered as dangerous for several seconds--now made him turn.
+
+The man was peeling off a space suit. Literally peeling it off in strips
+from his lobster-red flesh. He blinked at Boone without seeing him.
+Dazzle-blinded, Boone thought, then realized his own vision was going.
+
+"I'll kill you if you go near that subspace drive!" Boone screamed.
+
+"It's the only chance for all of us and you know it, Boone," the man
+said quietly. "Don't try to stop me."
+
+Ackerman Boone lifted his N-gun and squinted through the haze of heat
+and blinding light. He couldn't see! He couldn't see....
+
+Wildly, he fired the N-gun. Wildly, in all directions, spraying the room
+with it--
+
+Larry dropped blindly forward. Twice he tripped over unconscious men,
+but climbed to his feet and went on. He could not see Boone, but he
+could see--vaguely--the muzzle flash of Boone's N-gun. He staggered
+across the room toward that muzzle-flash and finally embraced it--
+
+And found himself fighting for his life. Boone was crazed now--with the
+heat and with his own failure. He bit and tore at Larry with strong
+claw-like fingers and lashed out with his feet. He balled his fists and
+hammered air like a windmill, arms flailing, striking flesh often enough
+to batter Larry toward the floor.
+
+Grimly Larry clung to him, pulled himself upright, ducked his head
+against his chest and struck out with his own fists, feeling nothing,
+not knowing when they landed and when they did not, hearing nothing but
+a far off roaring in his ears, a roaring which told him he was losing
+consciousness and had to act--soon--if he was going to save anyone....
+
+He stood and pounded with his fists.
+
+Pounded--air.
+
+He did not know that Boone had collapsed until his feet trod on the
+man's inert body and then, quickly, he rushed toward the control board,
+rushed blindly in its direction, or in the direction he thought it would
+be, tripped over something, sprawled on the hot, blistering floor, got
+himself up somehow, crawled forward, pulled himself upright....
+
+There was no sensation in his fingers. He did not know if he had
+actually reached the control board but abruptly he realized that he had
+not felt Mayhem's presence in his mind for several minutes. Was Mayhem
+conserving his energy for a final try, letting Larry absorb the
+punishment now so he--
+
+Yes, Larry remembered thinking vaguely. It had to be that. For Mayhem
+knew how to work the controls, and he did not. Now his mind receded into
+a fog of semi-consciousness, but he was aware that his blistered fingers
+were fairly flying across the control board, aware then of an inward
+sigh--whether of relief or triumph, he was never to know--then aware,
+abruptly and terribly, of a wrenching pain which seemed to strip his
+skin from his flesh, his flesh from his bones, the marrow from....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Can you see?" the doctor asked.
+
+"Yes," Larry said as the bandages were removed from his eyes. Three
+people were in the room with the doctor--Admiral Stapleton, the
+President--and Sheila. Somehow, Sheila was most important.
+
+"We are now in subspace, thanks to you," the Admiral said. "We all have
+minor injuries as a result of the transfer, but there were only two
+fatalities, I'm happy to say. And naturally, the ship is now out of
+danger."
+
+"What gets me, Grange," the President said, "is how you managed to work
+those controls. What the devil do you know about sub-space, my boy?"
+
+"The two fatalities," the Admiral said, "were Ackerman Boone and the man
+he had killed." Then the Admiral grinned. "Can't you see, Mr. President,
+that he's not paying any attention to us? I think, at the moment, the
+hero of the hour only has eyes for Miss Kelly here."
+
+"Begging your pardons, sirs, yes," Larry said happily.
+
+Nodding and smiling, the President of the Galactic Federation and
+Admiral Stapleton left the dispensary room--with the doctor.
+
+"Well, hero," Sheila said, and smiled.
+
+Larry realized--quite suddenly--that, inside himself, he was alone.
+Mayhem had done his job--and vanished utterly.
+
+"You know," Sheila said, "it's as if you--well, I hope this doesn't get
+you sore at me--as if you grew up overnight."
+
+Before he kissed her Larry said: "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'll tell
+you about it someday. But you'd never believe me."
+
+
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+  Transcriber's Note: A few typographical errors have been repaired.
+      cornea CHANGED TO corona (2 places)
+      The squack box blared: CHANGED TO The squawk box blared:
+      _bead_ on his elan CHANGED TO bead on his _elan_
+      liason CHANGED TO liaison (1 place)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Place in the Sun, by C.H. Thames
+
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+	<title>A Place in the Sun, by C. H. Thames</title>
+
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Place in the Sun, by C.H. Thames
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Place in the Sun
+
+Author: C.H. Thames
+
+Release Date: October 19, 2008 [EBook #26966]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PLACE IN THE SUN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Barbara Tozier and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div id="front_matter">
+	<p class="copyright_note">This etext was produced from <cite>Amazing Stories</cite> October
+	1956. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
+	the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p>
+
+	<p class="book_supertitle"><a class="pagenum" id="page38" title="38"> </a>A “JOHNNY MAYHEM� ADVENTURE</p>
+
+	<h1>A PLACE IN THE SUN</h1>
+
+	<p class="author">By C. H. THAMES</p>
+
+	<p class="blurb"><em>Mayhem, the man of many
+	bodies, had been given some
+	weird assignments in his time,
+	but saving The Glory of the
+	Galaxy wasn’t difficult—it
+	was downright impossible!</em></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">The</span> SOS crackled and
+hummed through subspace
+at a speed which left
+laggard light far behind. Since
+subspace distances do not coincide
+with normal space distances,
+the SOS was first
+picked up by a Fomalhautian
+freighter bound for Capella
+although it had been issued
+from a point in normal space
+midway between the orbit of
+Mercury and the sun’s <ins title="original reads 'cornea'">corona</ins>
+in the solar system.</p>
+
+<div class="illo"><a class="pagenum" id="page39" title="39"> </a>
+	<img src="images/illo.png" width="800" height="741" alt="A man shoots another man in the back with an energy gun. There are bodies lying about." />
+	<p class="illo_caption">The terrible weapon blasted death and carnage through the ship.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The radioman of the Fomalhautian
+freighter gave the
+distress signal to the Deck
+Officer, who looked at it,
+blinked, and bolted ’bove decks
+to the captain’s cabin. His face
+<!-- Original location of full-page illustration -->
+<a class="pagenum" id="page40" title="40"> </a>was very white when he
+reached the door and his heart
+pounded with excitement. As
+the Deck Officer crossed an
+electronic beam before the
+door a metallic voice said:
+“The Captain is asleep and
+will be disturbed for nothing
+but emergency priority.�</p>
+
+<p>Nodding, the Deck officer
+stuck his thumb in the whorl-lock
+of the door and entered
+the cabin. “Begging your pardon,
+sir,� he cried, “but we
+just received an SOS from—�</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">The Captain stirred groggily,
+sat up, switched on a
+green night light and squinted
+through it at the Deck Officer.
+“Well, what is it? Isn’t the
+Eye working?�</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir. An SOS, sir….�</p>
+
+<p>“If we’re close enough to
+help, subspace or normal
+space, take the usual steps,
+lieutenant. Surely you don’t
+need me to—�</p>
+
+<p>“The usual steps can’t be
+taken, sir. Far as I can make
+out, that ship is doomed. She’s
+bound on collision course for
+Sol, only twenty million miles
+out now.�</p>
+
+<p>“That’s too bad, lieutenant,�
+the Captain said with
+genuine sympathy in his voice.
+“I’m sorry to hear that. But
+what do you want me to do
+about it?�</p>
+
+<p>“The ship, sir. The ship that
+sent the SOS—hold on to your
+hat, sir—�</p>
+
+<p>“Get to the point now, will
+you, young man?� the Captain
+growled sleepily.</p>
+
+<p>“The ship which sent the
+SOS signal, the ship heading
+on collision course for Sol, is
+the <i>Glory of the Galaxy</i>!�</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the Captain
+said nothing. Distantly, you
+could hear the hum of the subspace
+drive-unit and the faint
+whining of the stasis generator.
+Then the Captain bolted
+out of bed after unstrapping
+himself. In his haste he forgot
+the ship was in weightless
+deep space and went sailing,
+arms flailing air, across the
+room. The lieutenant helped
+him down and into his magnetic-soled
+shoes.</p>
+
+<p>“My God,� the Captain said
+finally. “Why did it happen?
+Why did it have to happen to
+the <i>Glory of the Galaxy</i>?�</p>
+
+<p>“What are you going to do,
+sir?�</p>
+
+<p>“<em>I</em> can’t do anything. I won’t
+take the responsibility. Have
+the radioman contact the Hub
+at once.�</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir.�</p>
+
+<p><i>The Glory of the Galaxy</i>,
+the SOS ship heading on collision
+course with the sun, was
+making its maiden run from
+the assembly satellites of
+Earth across the inner solar
+system via the perihelion passage
+<a class="pagenum" id="page41" title="41"> </a>which would bring it
+within twenty-odd million
+miles of the sun, to Mars
+which now was on the opposite
+side of Sol from Earth.
+Aboard the gleaming new ship
+was the President of the Galactic
+Federation and his entire
+cabinet.</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">The Fomalhautian freighter’s
+emergency message was
+received at the Hub of the
+Galaxy within moments after
+it had been sent, although the
+normal space distance was in
+the neighborhood of one hundred
+thousand light years.
+The message was bounced—in
+amazingly quick time—from
+office to office at the hub,
+cutting through the usual red
+tape because of its top priority.
+And—since none of the
+normal agencies at the Hub
+could handle it—the message
+finally arrived at an office
+which very rarely received official
+messages of any kind.
+This was the one unofficial,
+extra-legal office at the Hub of
+the Galaxy. Lacking official
+function, the office had no
+technical existence and was
+not to be found in any Directory
+of the Hub. At the moment,
+two young men were
+seated inside. Their sole job
+was to maintain <ins title="original reads 'liason'">liaison</ins> with
+a man whose very existence
+was doubted by most of the
+human inhabitants of the Galaxy
+but whose importance
+could not be measured by mere
+human standards in those early
+days when the Galactic
+League was becoming the Galactic
+Federation.</p>
+
+<p>The name of the man with
+whom they maintained contact
+was Johnny Mayhem.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you read it?� the blond
+man asked.</p>
+
+<p>“I read it.�</p>
+
+<p>“If it got down here, that
+means they can’t handle it
+anywhere else.�</p>
+
+<p>“Of course they can’t. What
+the hell could normal slobs like
+them or like us do about it?�</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing, I guess. But wait
+a minute! You don’t mean
+you’re going to send Mayhem,
+without asking him, without
+telling—�</p>
+
+<p>“We can’t ask him now, can
+we?�</p>
+
+<p>“Johnny Mayhem’s <em>elan</em> is
+at the moment speeding from
+Canopus to Deneb, where on
+the fourth planet of the Denebian
+system a dead body is
+waiting for him in cold
+storage. The turnover from
+League to Federation status
+of the Denebian system is
+causing trouble in Deneb City,
+so Mayhem—�</p>
+
+<p>“Deneb City will probably
+survive without Mayhem.
+Well, won’t it?�</p>
+
+<p>“I guess so, but—�</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" id="page42" title="42"> </a>“I know. The deal is we’re
+supposed to tell Mayhem
+where he’s going and what he
+can expect. The deal also is,
+every inhabited world has a
+body waiting for his <em>elan</em> in
+cold storage. But don’t you
+think if we could talk to Mayhem
+now—�</p>
+
+<p>“It isn’t possible. He’s in
+transit.�</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you think if we could
+talk to him now he would
+agree to board the <em>Glory of
+the Galaxy</em>?�</p>
+
+<p>“How should I know? I’m
+not Johnny Mayhem.�</p>
+
+<p>“If he doesn’t board her, it’s
+certain death for all of them.�</p>
+
+<p>“And if he does board her,
+what the hell can he do about
+it? Besides, there isn’t any
+dead body awaiting his <em>elan</em>
+on that ship or any ship. He
+wouldn’t make a very efficacious
+ghost.�</p>
+
+<p>“But there are live people.
+Scores of them. Mayhem’s <em>elan</em>
+is quite capable of possessing
+a living host.�</p>
+
+<p>“Sure. Theoretically it is.
+But damn it all, what would
+the results be? We’ve never
+tried it. It’s liable to damage
+Mayhem. As for the host—�</p>
+
+<p>“The host might die. I know
+it. But he’ll die anyway. The
+whole shipload of them is
+heading on collision course for
+the sun.�</p>
+
+<p>“Does the SOS say why?�</p>
+
+<p>“No. Maybe Mayhem can
+find out and do something
+about it.�</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">“Yeah, maybe. That’s a hell
+of a way to risk the life of
+the most important man in the
+Galaxy. Because if Mayhem
+boards that ship and can’t do
+anything about it, he’ll die
+with the rest of them.�</p>
+
+<p>“Why? We could always
+pluck his <em>elan</em> out again.�</p>
+
+<p>“<em>If</em> he were inhabiting a
+dead one. In a live body, I
+don’t think so. The attraction
+would be stronger. There
+would be forces of cohesion—�</p>
+
+<p>“That’s true. Still, Mayhem’s
+our only hope.�</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll admit it’s a job for
+Mayhem, but he’s too important.�</p>
+
+<p>“Is he? Don’t be a fool.
+What, actually, is Johnny
+Mayhem’s importance? His
+importance lies in the very
+fact that he is expendable. His
+life—for the furtherance of
+the new Galactic Federation.�</p>
+
+<p>“But—�</p>
+
+<p>“And the President is
+aboard that ship. Maybe he
+can’t do as much for the Galaxy
+in the long run as Mayhem
+can, but don’t you see,
+man, he’s a figurehead. Right
+now he’s the most important
+man in the Galaxy, and if we
+could talk to him I’m sure
+<a class="pagenum" id="page43" title="43"> </a>Mayhem would agree. Mayhem
+would want to board that
+ship.�</p>
+
+<p>“It’s funny, we’ve been
+working with Mayhem all
+these years and we never even
+met the guy.�</p>
+
+<p>“Would you know him if
+you saw him?�</p>
+
+<p>“Umm-mm, I guess not. Do
+you think we really can halt
+his <em>elan</em> in subspace and divert
+it over to the <em>Glory of the
+Galaxy</em>?�</p>
+
+<p>“I take it you’re beginning
+to see things my way. And the
+answer to your question is
+yes.�</p>
+
+<p>“Poor Mayhem. You know,
+I actually feel sorry for the
+guy. He’s had more adventures
+than anyone since
+Homer wrote the <i>Odyssey</i> and
+there won’t ever be any rest
+for him.�</p>
+
+<p>“Stop feeling sorry for him
+and start hoping he succeeds.�</p>
+
+<p>“Yeah.�</p>
+
+<p>“And let’s see about getting
+a <ins title="original was italicized">bead</ins> on his <ins title="original was not italicized"><em>elan</em></ins>.�</p>
+
+<p>The two young men walked
+to a tri-dim chart which took
+up much of the room. One of
+them touched a button and
+blue light glowed within the
+chart, pulsing brightly and
+sharply where space-sectors
+intersected.</p>
+
+<p>“He’s in C-17 now,� one of
+the men said as a gleaming
+whiteness was suddenly superimposed
+at a single point
+on the blue.</p>
+
+<p>“Can you bead him?�</p>
+
+<p>“I think so. But I still feel
+sorry for Mayhem. He’s expecting
+to wake up in a cold-storage
+corpse on Deneb IV
+but instead he’ll come to in a
+living body aboard a spaceship
+on collision course for the
+sun.�</p>
+
+<p>“Just hope he—�</p>
+
+<p>“I know. Succeeds. I don’t
+even want to think of the possibility
+he might fail.�</p>
+
+<p>In seconds, the gleaming
+white dot crawled across the
+surface of the tri-dim chart
+from sector C-17 to sector S-1.</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">The <i>Glory of the Galaxy</i>
+was now nineteen million
+miles out from the sun and
+rushing through space at a
+hundred miles per second, normal
+space drive. The <em>Glory of
+the Galaxy</em> thus moved a million
+miles closer to fiery destruction
+every three hours—but
+since the sun’s gravitational
+force had to be added
+to that speed, the ship was
+slated to plunge into the sun’s
+<ins title="original reads 'cornea'">corona</ins> in little more than
+twenty-four hours.</p>
+
+<p>Since the ship’s refrigeration
+units would function perfectly
+until the outer hull
+reached a temperature of
+eleven hundred degrees Fahrenheit,
+none of its passengers
+<a class="pagenum" id="page44" title="44"> </a>knew that anything was
+wrong. Even the members of
+the crew went through all the
+normal motions. Only the
+<i>Glory of the Galaxy’s</i> officers
+in their bright new uniforms
+and gold braid knew the grim
+truth of what awaited the
+gleaming two-thousand ton
+spaceship less than twenty-four
+hours away at the exact
+center of its perihelion
+passage.</p>
+
+<p>Something—unidentified as
+yet—in all the thousands of
+intricate things that could go
+wrong on a spaceship, particularly
+a new one making its
+maiden voyage, had gone
+wrong. The officers were
+checking their catalogues and
+their various areas of watch
+meticulously—and not because
+their own lives were at stake.
+In spaceflight, your own life
+always is at stake. There are
+too many imponderables: you
+are, to a certain degree, expendable.
+The commissioned
+contingent aboard the <em>Glory
+of the Galaxy</em> was a dedicated
+group, hand-picked from all
+the officers in the solar system.</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">But they could find nothing.
+And do nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Within a day, their lives
+along with the lives of the enlisted
+men aboard the <em>Glory of
+the Galaxy</em> and the passengers
+on its maiden run, would be
+snuffed out in a brilliant burst
+of solar heat.</p>
+
+<p>And the President of the
+Galactic Federation would die
+because some unknown factor
+had locked the controls of the
+spaceship, making it impossible
+to turn or use forward
+rockets against the gravitational
+pull of the sun.</p>
+
+<p>Nineteen million miles. In
+normal space, a considerable
+distance. A hundred miles a
+second—a very considerable
+normal space speed. Increasing….</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">Ever since they had left
+Earth’s assembly satellites,
+Sheila Kelly had seen a lot of
+a Secret Serviceman named
+Larry Grange, who was a
+member of the President’s
+corps of bodyguards. She liked
+Larry, although there was
+nothing serious in their relationship.
+He was handsome
+and charming and she was
+naturally flattered with his attentions.
+Still, although he
+was older than Sheila, she
+sensed that he was a boy
+rather than a man and had
+the odd feeling that, faced
+with a real crisis, he would
+confirm this tragically.</p>
+
+<p>It was night aboard the
+<i>Glory of the Galaxy</i>. Which
+was to say the blue-green
+night lights had replaced the
+white day lights in the companionways
+<a class="pagenum" id="page45" title="45"> </a>and public rooms
+of the spaceship, since its
+ports were sealed against the
+fierce glare of the sun. It was
+hard to believe, Sheila
+thought, that they were only
+nineteen million miles from
+the sun. Everything was so
+cool—so comfortably air-conditioned….</p>
+
+<p>She met Larry in the Sunside
+Lounge, a cabaret as nice
+as any terran nightclub she
+had ever seen. There were
+stylistic Zodiac drawings on
+the walls and blue-mirrored
+columns supporting the roof.
+Like everything else aboard
+the <i>Glory of the Galaxy</i>, the
+Sunside Lounge hardly
+seemed to belong on a spaceship.
+For Sheila Kelly, though—herself
+a third secretary
+with the department of Galactic
+Economy—it was all very
+thrilling.</p>
+
+<p>“Hello, Larry,� she said as
+the Secret Serviceman joined
+her at their table. He was a
+tall young man in his late
+twenties with crewcut blond
+hair; but he sat down heavily
+now and did not offer Sheila
+his usual smile.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, what on earth is the
+matter?� Sheila asked him.</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing. I need a drink,
+that’s all.�</p>
+
+<p>The drinks came. Larry
+gulped his and ordered another.
+His complete silence
+baffled Sheila, who finally
+said:</p>
+
+<p>“Surely it isn’t anything I
+did.�</p>
+
+<p>“You? Don’t be silly.�</p>
+
+<p>“Well! After the way you
+said that I don’t know if I
+should be glad or not.�</p>
+
+<p>“Just forget it. I’m sorry,
+kid. I—� He reached out and
+touched her hand. His own
+hand was damp and cold.</p>
+
+<p>“Going to tell me, Larry?�</p>
+
+<p>“Listen. What’s a guy supposed
+to do if he overhears
+something he’s not supposed
+to overhear, and—�</p>
+
+<p>“How should I know unless
+you tell me what you overheard?
+It is you you’re talking
+about, isn’t it?�</p>
+
+<p>“Yeah. I was going off duty,
+walking by officer quarters
+and … oh, forget it. I better
+not tell you.�</p>
+
+<p>“I’m a good listener,
+Larry.�</p>
+
+<p>“Look, Irish. You’re a good
+anything—and that’s the
+truth. You have looks and you
+have brains and I have a
+hunch through all that Emerald
+Isle sauciness you have a
+heart too. But—�</p>
+
+<p>“But you don’t want to tell
+me.�</p>
+
+<p>“It isn’t I don’t want to, but
+no one’s supposed to know, not
+even the President.�</p>
+
+<p>“You sure make it sound
+mysterious.�</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" id="page46" title="46"> </a>“Just the officers. Oh, hell.
+I don’t know. What good
+would it do if I told you?�</p>
+
+<p>“I guess you’d just get it off
+your chest, that’s all.�</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t tell anyone official,
+Sheila. I’d have my head
+handed to me. But I’ve got to
+think and I’ve got to tell someone.
+I’ll go crazy, just knowing
+and not doing anything.�</p>
+
+<p>“It’s important, isn’t it?�</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">Larry downed another
+drink quickly. It was his
+fourth and Sheila had never
+seen him take more than three
+or four in the course of
+a whole evening. “You’re
+damned right it’s important.�
+Larry leaned forward across
+the postage-stamp table. A
+liquor-haze clouded his eyes as
+he said: “It’s so important
+that unless someone does
+something about it, we’ll all be
+dead inside of twenty-four
+hours. Only trouble is, there
+isn’t anything anyone can do
+about it.�</p>
+
+<p>“Larry—you’re a little
+drunk.�</p>
+
+<p>“I know it. I know I am. I
+want to be a lot drunker. What
+the hell can a guy do?�</p>
+
+<p>“What do you know, Larry?
+What have you heard?�</p>
+
+<p>“I know they have the President
+of the Galactic Federation
+aboard this ship and that
+he ought to be told the truth.�</p>
+
+<p>“No. I mean—�</p>
+
+<p>“They sent out an SOS, kid.
+Controls are locked. Lifeboats
+don’t have enough power to
+get us out of the sun’s gravitational
+pull. We’re all going
+to roast, I tell you!�</p>
+
+<p>Sheila felt her heart throb
+wildly. Even though he was
+well on the way to being thoroughly
+drunk, Larry was telling
+the truth. Instinctively,
+she knew that—was certain
+of it. “What are you going to
+do?� she said.</p>
+
+<p>He shrugged. “I guess because
+I can’t do a damned
+thing I’m going to get good
+and drunk. That’s what I’m
+going to do. Or maybe—who
+the hell knows?—maybe in
+one minute I’m going to jump
+up on this table and tell everyone
+what I overheard. Maybe
+I ought to do that, huh?�</p>
+
+<p>“Larry, Larry—if it’s as
+bad as you say, maybe you
+ought to think before you do
+anything.�</p>
+
+<p>“Who am I to think? I’m
+one of the muscle men. That’s
+what they pay me for, isn’t
+it?�</p>
+
+<p>“Larry. You don’t have to
+shout.�</p>
+
+<p>“Well, isn’t it?�</p>
+
+<p>“If you don’t calm down I’ll
+have to leave.�</p>
+
+<p>“You can sit still. You can
+park here all night. <em>I’m</em> leaving.�</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" id="page47" title="47"> </a>“What are you going to
+do?�</p>
+
+<p>“Oh … that.� Larry got up
+from the table. He looked suddenly
+green and Sheila
+thought it was because he had
+too much to drink. “You don’t
+have to worry about that,
+Sheila. Not now you don’t. I
+all of a sudden don’t feel so
+good. Headache. Man, I never
+felt anything like it. Better go
+to my cabin and lie down.
+Maybe I’ll wake up and find
+out all this was a dream,
+huh?�</p>
+
+<p>“Do you need any help?�
+Sheila demanded, real concern
+in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>“No. ’Sall right. Man, this
+headache really snuck up on
+me. Pow! Without any warning.�</p>
+
+<p>“Let me help you.�</p>
+
+<p>“No. Just leave me alone,
+will you?� Larry staggered off
+across the crowded dance
+floor. He drew angry glances
+and muttered comments as he
+disturbed the dancers waltzing
+to Carlotti’s <em>Danube in
+Space</em>.</p>
+
+<p>Why don’t you admit it,
+Grange, Larry thought as he
+staggered through the companionway
+toward his cabin.
+That’s what you always wanted,
+isn’t it—a place of importance?</p>
+
+<p>A place in the sun, they call
+it.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re going to get a place
+in the sun, all right,� he
+mumbled aloud. “Right smack
+in the middle of the sun with
+everyone else aboard this
+ship!�</p>
+
+<p>The humor of it amused him
+perversely. He smiled—but it
+was closer to a leer—and
+lunged into his cabin. What he
+said to Sheila was no joke. He
+really did have a splitting
+headache. It had come on suddenly
+and it was like no headache
+he had ever known. It
+pulsed and throbbed and beat
+against his temples and held
+red hot needles to the backs of
+his eyeballs, almost blinding
+him. It sapped all his strength,
+leaving him physically weak.
+He was barely able to close
+the door behind him and stagger
+to the shower.</p>
+
+<p>An ice cold shower, he
+thought would help. He
+stripped quickly and got under
+the needle spray. By that
+time he was so weak he could
+barely stand.</p>
+
+<p>A place in the sun, he
+thought….</p>
+
+<p>Something grabbed his
+mind and wrenched it.</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">Johnny Mayhem awoke.</p>
+
+<p>Awakening came slowly, as
+it always did. It was a rising
+through infinite gulfs, a rebirth
+for a man who had died
+a hundred times and might die
+<a class="pagenum" id="page48" title="48"> </a>a thousand times more as the
+years piled up and became
+centuries. It was a spinning,
+whirling, flashing ascent from
+blackness to coruscating colors,
+brightness, giddiness.</p>
+
+<p>And suddenly, it was over.</p>
+
+<p>A needle spray of ice-cold
+water beat down upon him.
+He shuddered and reached for
+the water-taps, shutting them.
+Dripping, he climbed from the
+shower.</p>
+
+<p>And floated up—quite
+weightless—toward the ceiling.</p>
+
+<p>Frowning with his new and
+as yet unseen face, Johnny
+Mayhem propelled himself to
+the floor. He looked at his
+arms. He was naked—at least
+that much was right.</p>
+
+<p>But obviously, since he was
+weightless, he was not on
+Deneb IV. During his transmigration
+he had been briefed
+for the trouble on Deneb IV.
+Then had a mistake been made
+somehow? It was always possible—but
+it had never happened
+before.</p>
+
+<p>Too much precision and
+careful planning was involved.</p>
+
+<p>Every world which had an
+Earthman population and a
+Galactic League—now, Galactic
+Federation—post, must
+have a body in cold storage,
+waiting for Johnny Mayhem
+if his services were required.
+No one knew when Mayhem’s
+services might be required. No
+one knew exactly under what
+circumstances the Galactic
+Federation Council, operating
+from the Hub of the Galaxy,
+might summon Mayhem. And
+only a very few people, including
+those at the Hub and the
+Galactic League Firstmen on
+civilized worlds and Observers
+on frontier planets, knew the
+precise mechanics of Mayhem’s
+coming.</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">Johnny Mayhem, a bodiless
+sentience. Mayhem—Johnny
+Marlow then—who had been
+chased from Earth a pariah
+and a criminal seven years
+ago, who had been mortally
+wounded on a wild planet
+deep within the Sagittarian
+Swarm, whose life had been
+saved—after a fashion—by
+the white magic of that
+planet. Mayhem, doomed now
+to possible immortality as a
+bodiless sentience, an <em>elan</em>,
+which could occupy and activate
+a corpse if it had been
+preserved properly … an <em>elan</em>
+doomed to wander eternally
+because it could not remain in
+one body for more than a
+month without body and <em>elan</em>
+perishing. Mayhem, who had
+dedicated his strange, lonely
+life to the services of the Galactic
+League—now the Galactic
+Federation—because a
+normal life and normal social
+<a class="pagenum" id="page49" title="49"> </a>relations were not possible to
+him….</p>
+
+<p>It did not seem possible,
+Mayhem thought now, that a
+mistake could be made. Then—a
+sudden change in plans?</p>
+
+<p>It had never happened before,
+but it was entirely possible.
+Something, Mayhem
+decided, had come up during
+transmigration. It was terribly
+important and the people
+at the Hub had had no opportunity
+to brief him on it.</p>
+
+<p>But—what?</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">His first shock came a moment
+later. He walked to a
+mirror on the wall and approved
+of the strong young
+body which would house his
+sentience and then scowled. A
+thought inside his head said:</p>
+
+<p><em>So this is what it’s like to
+have schizophrenia.</em></p>
+
+<p><em>What the hell was that?</em>
+Mayhem thought.</p>
+
+<p><em>I said, so this is what it’s
+like to have schizophrenia.
+First the world’s worst headache
+and then I start thinking
+like two different people.</em></p>
+
+<p><em>Aren’t you dead?</em></p>
+
+<p><em>Is that supposed to be a
+joke, alter ego? When do the
+men in the white suits come?</em></p>
+
+<p><em>Good Lord, this was supposed
+to be a dead body!</em></p>
+
+<p>At that, the other sentience
+which shared the body with
+Mayhem snickered and lapsed
+into silence. Mayhem, for his
+part, was astounded.</p>
+
+<p><em>Don’t get ornery now</em>, Mayhem
+pleaded. <em>I’m Johnny
+Mayhem. Does that mean anything
+to you?</em></p>
+
+<p><em>Oh, sure. It means I’m dead.
+You inhabit dead bodies,
+right?</em></p>
+
+<p><em>Usually. Listen—where are
+we?</em></p>
+
+<p><em><i>Glory of the Galaxy</i>—bound
+from Earth to Mars on perihelion.</em></p>
+
+<p><em>And there’s trouble?</em></p>
+
+<p><em>How do you know there’s
+trouble?</em></p>
+
+<p><em>Otherwise they wouldn’t
+have diverted me here.</em></p>
+
+<p><em>We’ve got the president
+aboard. We’re going to hit the
+sun.</em> Then, grudgingly, Larry
+went into the details. When he
+finished he thought cynically:
+<em>Now all you have to do is go
+outside yelling have no fear,
+Mayhem is here and everything
+will be all right, I suppose.</em></p>
+
+<p>Mayhem didn’t answer. It
+would be many moments yet
+before he could adjust to this
+new, unexpected situation.
+But in a way, he thought, it
+would be a boon. If he were
+co-inhabiting the body of a
+living man who belonged on
+the <em>Glory of the Galaxy</em>, there
+was no need to reveal his identity
+as Johnny Mayhem to
+anyone but his host….</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak"><a class="pagenum" id="page50" title="50"> </a>“I tell ya,� Technician First
+Class Ackerman Boone shouted,
+“the refrigeration unit’s
+gone on the blink. You can’t
+feel it yet, but I ought to
+know. I got the refrigs working
+full strength and we
+gained a couple of degrees
+heat. Either she’s on the blink
+or we’re too close to the sun,
+I tell you!�</p>
+
+<p>Ackerman Boone was a big
+man, a veteran spacer with a
+squat, very strong body and
+arms like an orangutan. Under
+normal circumstances he
+was a very fine spacer and a
+good addition to any crew, but
+he bore an unreasonable
+grudge against the officer
+corps and would go out of his
+way to make them look bad in
+the eyes of the other enlisted
+men. A large crowd had gathered
+in the hammock-hung
+crew quarters of the <em>Glory of
+the Galaxy</em> as Boone went on
+in his deep, booming voice:
+“So I asked the skipper of the
+watch, I did. He got shifty-eyed,
+like they always do. You
+know. He wasn’t talking, but
+sure as my name’s Ackerman
+Boone, something’s wrong.�</p>
+
+<p>“What do you think it is,
+Acky?� one of the younger
+men asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I tell ya this: I know
+what it <em>isn’t</em>. I checked out the
+refrigs three times, see, and
+came up with nothing. The refrigs
+are in jig order, and if
+I know it then you know it. So,
+if the refrigs are in jig order,
+there’s only one thing it can
+be: we’re getting too near the
+sun!� Boone clamped his
+mouth shut and stood with
+thick, muscular arms crossed
+over his barrel chest.</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">A young technician third
+class said in a strident voice,
+“You mean you think maybe
+we’re plunging into the sun,
+Acky?�</p>
+
+<p>“Well, now, I didn’t say
+that. Did I, boy? But we <em>are</em>
+too close and if we are too
+close there’s got to be a reason
+for it. If we stay too close too
+long, O.K. Then we’re plunging
+into the sun. Right now, I
+dunno.�</p>
+
+<p>They all asked Ackerman
+Boone, who was an unofficial
+leader among them, what he
+was going to do. He rubbed
+his big fingers against the
+thick stubble of beard on his
+jaw and you could hear the
+rasping sound it made. Then
+he said, “Nothing, until we
+find out for sure. But I got a
+hunch the officers are trying
+to pull the wool over the eyes
+of them politicians we got on
+board. That’s all right with
+me, men. If they want to, they
+got their reasons. But I tell
+ya this: they ain’t going to
+pull any wool over Acky
+<a class="pagenum" id="page51" title="51"> </a>Boone’s eyes, and that’s a
+fact.�</p>
+
+<p>Just then the squawk box
+called: “Now hear this! Now
+hear this! Tech/1 Ackerman
+Boone to Exec’s office. Tech/1
+Boone to Exec.�</p>
+
+<p>“You see?� Boone said,
+smiling grimly. As yet, no one
+saw. His face still set in a
+grim smile, Ackerman Boone
+headed above decks.</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">“That, Mr. President,� Vice
+Admiral T. Shawnley Stapleton
+said gravely, “is the
+problem. We would have come
+to you sooner, sir, but
+frankly—�</p>
+
+<p>“I know it, Admiral,� the
+President said quietly. “I
+could not have helped you in
+any way. There was no sense
+telling me.�</p>
+
+<p>“We have one chance, sir,
+and one only. It’s irregular
+and it will probably knock the
+hell out of the <em>Glory of the
+Galaxy</em>, but it may save our
+lives. If we throw the ship
+suddenly into subspace we
+could pass right through the
+sun’s position and—�</p>
+
+<p>“I’m no scientist, Admiral,
+but wouldn’t that put tremendous
+stress not only on the
+ship but on all of us aboard?�</p>
+
+<p>“It would, sir. I won’t keep
+anything from you, of course.
+We’d all be subjected to a
+force of twenty-some gravities
+for a period of several seconds.
+Here aboard the <i>Glory</i>,
+we don’t have adequate G-equipment.
+It’s something like
+the old days of air flight, sir:
+as soon as airplanes became
+reasonably safe, passenger
+ships didn’t bother to carry
+parachutes. Result over a
+period of fifty years: thousands
+of lives lost. We’d all be
+bruised and battered, sir.
+Bones would be broken. There
+might be a few deaths. But I
+see no other way out, sir.�</p>
+
+<p>“Then there was no need to
+check with me at all, I assure
+you, Admiral Stapleton. Do
+whatever you think is best,
+sir.�</p>
+
+<p>The Admiral nodded gravely.
+“Thank you, Mr. President.
+I will say this, though: we will
+wait for a miracle.�</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid I don’t follow
+you.�</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I don’t expect a miracle,
+but the switchover to subspace
+so suddenly is bound to
+be dangerous. Therefore, we’ll
+wait until the last possible
+moment. It will grow uncomfortably
+warm, let me warn
+you, but as long as the subspace
+drive is in good working
+order—�</p>
+
+<p>“I see what you mean, Admiral.
+You have a free hand,
+sir; let me repeat that. I will
+not interfere in any way and
+I have the utmost confidence
+<a class="pagenum" id="page52" title="52"> </a>in you.� The President mopped
+his brow with an already
+damp handkerchief. It <em>was</em>
+growing warm, come to think
+of it. Uncomfortably warm.</p>
+
+<p>As if everyone aboard the
+<i>Glory of the Galaxy</i> was slowly
+being broiled alive….</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">Ackerman Boone entered
+the crew quarters with the
+same smile still on his lips. At
+first he said nothing, but his
+silence drew the men like a
+magnet draws iron filings.
+When they had all clustered
+about him he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>“The Exec not only chewed
+my ears off,� he boomed. “He
+all but spit them in my face!
+I was right, men. He admitted
+it to me after he saw how he
+couldn’t get away with anything
+in front of Ackerman
+Boone. Men, we’re heading on
+collision course with the sun!�</p>
+
+<p>A shocked silence greeted
+his words and Ackerman
+Boone, instinctively a born
+speaker, paused dramatically
+to allow each man the private
+horror of his own thoughts for
+a few moments. Then he continued:
+“The Admiral figures
+we have one chance to get
+out of this alive, men. He
+figures—�</p>
+
+<p>“What is it, Acky?�</p>
+
+<p>“What will he do?�</p>
+
+<p>“How will the Admiral get
+us out of this?�</p>
+
+<p>Ackerman Boone spat on
+the polished, gleaming floor of
+the crew quarters. “He’ll
+never get us out alive, let me
+tell you. He wants to shift us
+into subspace at the last possible
+minute. Suddenly. Like
+this—� and Ackerman Boone
+snapped his fingers.</p>
+
+<p>“There’d be a ship full of
+broken bones!� someone protested.
+“We can’t do a thing
+like that.�</p>
+
+<p>“He’ll kill us all!� a very
+young T/3 cried hysterically.</p>
+
+<p>“Not if I can help it, he
+won’t,� shouted Ackerman
+Boone. “Listen, men. This
+ain’t a question of discipline.
+It’s a question of living or dying
+and I tell you that’s more
+important than doing it like
+the book says or discipline or
+anything like that. We got a
+chance, all right: but it ain’t
+what the Admiral thinks it is.
+We ought to abandon the
+<i>Glory</i> to her place in the sun
+and scram out of here in the
+lifeboats—every last person
+aboard ship.�</p>
+
+<p>“But will they have enough
+power to get out of the sun’s
+gravitational pull?� someone
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>Ackerman Boone shrugged.
+“Don’t look at me,� he said
+mockingly. “I’m only an enlisted
+man and they don’t give
+enlisted men enough math to
+answer questions like that.
+<a class="pagenum" id="page53" title="53"> </a>But reckoning by the seat of
+my pants I would say, yes.
+Yes, we could get away like
+that—if we act fast. Because
+every minute we waste is a
+minute that brings us closer
+to the sun and makes it harder
+to get away in the lifeboats. If
+we act, men, we got to act
+fast.�</p>
+
+<p>“You’re talking mutiny,
+Boone,� a grizzled old space
+veteran said. “You can count
+me out.�</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the matter, McCormick?
+Yellow?�</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not yellow. I say it
+takes guts to maintain discipline
+in a real emergency. I say
+<em>you’re</em> yellow, Boone.�</p>
+
+<p>“You better be ready to
+back that up with your fists,
+McCormick,� Boone said
+savagely.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m ready any time you’re
+ready, you yellow mutinous
+bastard!�</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">Ackerman Boone launched
+himself at the smaller, older
+man, who stood his ground
+unflinchingly although he
+probably knew he would take
+a sound beating. But four or
+five crewmen came between
+them and held them apart, one
+saying:</p>
+
+<p>“Look who’s talking, Boone.
+You say time’s precious but
+you’re all set to start fighting.
+Every minute—�</p>
+
+<p>“Every <em>second</em>,� Boone said
+grimly, “brings us more than
+a hundred miles closer to the
+sun.�</p>
+
+<p>“What can we do, Acky?�</p>
+
+<p>Instead of answer, Ackerman
+Boone dramatically mopped
+the sweat from his face.
+All the men were uncomfortably
+warm now. It was obvious
+that the temperature
+within the <i>Glory of the Galaxy</i>
+had now climbed fifteen or
+twenty degrees despite the
+fact that the refrigs were
+working at full capacity. Even
+the bulkheads and the metal
+floor of crew quarters were
+unpleasantly warm to the
+touch. The air was hot and
+suddenly very dry.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll tell you what we ought
+to do,� Ackerman Boone said
+finally. “Admiral Stapleton or
+no Admiral Stapleton, President
+of the Galactic Federation
+or no President of the
+Galactic Federation, we ought
+to take over this ship and man
+the life boats for everyone’s
+good. If they don’t want to
+save their lives and ours—let’s
+us save our lives and theirs!�</p>
+
+<p>Roars of approval greeted
+Boone’s words, but Spacer
+McCormick and some of the
+other veterans stood apart
+from the loud speech-making
+which followed. Actually,
+Boone’s wild words—which he
+gambled with after the first
+<a class="pagenum" id="page54" title="54"> </a>flush of enthusiasm for his
+plan—began to lose converts.
+One by one the men drifted
+toward McCormick’s silent
+group until, finally, Boone had
+lost almost his entire audience.</p>
+
+<p>Just then a T/2 rushed into
+crew quarters and shouted:
+“Hey, is Boone around? Has
+anyone seen Boone?�</p>
+
+<p>This brought general laughter.
+Under the circumstances,
+the question was not without
+its humorous aspect.</p>
+
+<p>“What’ll you have?� Boone
+demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“The refrigs, Boone! They
+are on the blink. Overstrained
+themselves and burned themselves
+out. Inside of half an
+hour this ship’s going to be an
+oven hot enough to kill us all!�</p>
+
+<p>“Half an hour, men!� Ackerman
+Boone cried. “Now, do
+we take over the ship and man
+those lifeboats or don’t we!�</p>
+
+<p>The roar which followed his
+words was a decidedly affirmative
+one.</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">“These are the figures,� Admiral
+Stapleton said. “You can
+see, Mr. President, that we
+have absolutely no chance
+whatever if we man the lifeboats.
+We would perish as assuredly
+as we would if we remained
+with the <em>Glory of the
+Galaxy</em> in normal space.�</p>
+
+<p>“Admiral, I have to hand it
+to you. I don’t know how you
+can think—in all this heat.�</p>
+
+<p>“Have to, sir. Otherwise we
+all die.�</p>
+
+<p>“The air temperature—�</p>
+
+<p>“Is a hundred and thirty
+degrees and rising. We’ve
+passed salt tablets out to
+everyone, sir, but even then
+it’s only a matter of time before
+we’re all prostrated. If
+you’re sure you give your permission,
+sir—�</p>
+
+<p>“Admiral Stapleton, you are
+running this ship, not I.�</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, sir. I’ve sent
+our subspace officer, Lieutenant
+Ormundy, to throw in the
+subspace drive. We should
+know in a few moments—�</p>
+
+<p>“No crash hammocks or
+anything?�</p>
+
+<p>“I’m sorry, sir.�</p>
+
+<p>“It isn’t your fault, Admiral.
+I was merely pointing
+out a fact.�</p>
+
+<p>The <ins title="original reads 'squack'">squawk</ins> box blared:
+“Now hear this! Now hear
+this! T/3 Ackerman Boone to
+Admiral Stapleton. Are you
+listening, Admiral?�</p>
+
+<p>Admiral Stapleton’s haggard,
+heat-worn face bore a
+look of astonishment as he
+listened. Ackerman said, “We
+have Lieutenant Ormundy,
+Admiral. He’s not killing us
+all by putting us into subspace
+in minutes when it ought to
+take hours, you understand.
+We have Ormundy and we
+<a class="pagenum" id="page55" title="55"> </a>have the subspace room. A
+contingent of our men is getting
+the lifeboats ready. We’re
+going to abandon ship, Admiral,
+all of us, including you
+and the politicians even if we
+have to drag you aboard the
+lifeboats at N—gunpoint.�</p>
+
+<p>Admiral Stapleton’s face
+went ashen. “Let me at a radio!�
+he roared. “I want to
+answer that man and see if
+he understands exactly what
+mutiny is!�</p>
+
+<p>While Ackerman Boone was
+talking over the squawk box,
+the temperature within the
+<i>Glory of the Galaxy</i> rose to
+145° Fahrenheit.</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">“Fifteen minutes,� Larry
+Grange said. “In fifteen
+minutes the heat will have us
+all unconscious.� Only it
+wasn’t Larry alone who was
+talking. It was Larry and
+Johnny Mayhem. In a surprisingly
+short time the young
+Secret Serviceman had come
+to accept the dual occupation
+of his own mind. It was there:
+it was either dual occupation
+or insanity and if the voice
+which spoke inside his head
+said it was Johnny Mayhem,
+then it was Johnny Mayhem.
+Besides, Larry felt clear-headed
+in a way he had never
+felt before, despite the terrible,
+sapping heat. It was as
+if he had matured suddenly—the
+word matured came to him
+instinctively—in the space of
+minutes. Or, as if a maturing
+influence were at work on his
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>“What can we do?� Sheila
+said. “The crew has complete
+control of the ship.�</p>
+
+<p>“Secret Service chief says
+we’re on our own. There’s no
+time for co-ordinated planning,
+but somehow, within a
+very few minutes, we’ve got
+to get inside the subspace
+room and throw the ship out
+of normal space or we’ll all be
+roasted.�</p>
+
+<p>“Some of your men are
+there now, aren’t they?�</p>
+
+<p>“In the companionway outside
+the subspace room, yeah.
+But they’ll never force their
+way in time. Not with blasters
+and not with N-guns, either.
+Not in ten minutes, they
+won’t.�</p>
+
+<p>“Larry, all of a sudden I—I’m
+scared. We’re all going to
+die, Larry. I don’t want—Larry,
+what are you going to do?�</p>
+
+<p>They had been walking in a
+deserted companionway which
+brought them to one of the
+aft escape hatches of the
+<i>Glory of the Galaxy</i>. Their
+clothing was plastered to their
+bodies with sweat and every
+breath was agonizing, furnace
+hot.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m going outside,� Larry
+said quietly.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" id="page56" title="56"> </a>“Outside? What do you
+mean?�</p>
+
+<p>“Spacesuit, outside. There’s
+a hatch in the subspace room.
+If their attention is diverted
+to the companionway door, I
+may be able to get in. It’s our
+only chance—ours, and everyone’s.�</p>
+
+<p>“But the spacesuit—�</p>
+
+<p>“I know,� Larry said even
+as he was climbing into the
+inflatable vacuum garment. It
+was Larry—and it wasn’t
+Larry. He felt a certain confidence,
+a certain sense of doing
+the right thing—a feeling
+which Larry Grange had
+never experienced before in
+his life. It was as if the boy
+had become a man in the final
+moments of his life—or, he
+thought all at once, it was as
+if Johnny Mayhem who
+shared his mind and his body
+with him was somehow transmitting
+some of his own skills
+and confidence even as he—Mayhem—had
+reached the decision
+to go outside.</p>
+
+<p>“I know,� he said. “The
+spacesuit isn’t insulated sufficiently.
+I’ll have about three
+minutes out there. Three minutes
+to get inside. Otherwise,
+I’m finished.�</p>
+
+<p>“But Larry—�</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you see, Sheila?
+What does it matter? Who
+wants the five or ten extra
+minutes if we’re all going to
+die anyway? This way, there’s
+a chance.�</p>
+
+<p>He buckled the spacesuit
+and lifted the heavy fishbowl
+helmet, preparing to set it on
+his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>“Wait,� Sheila said, and
+stood on tiptoes to take his
+face in her hands and kiss him
+on the lips. “You—you’re different,�
+Sheila said. “You’re
+the same guy, a lot of fun, but
+you’re a—man, too. This is
+for what might have been,
+Larry,� she said, and kissed
+him again. “This is because I
+love you.�</p>
+
+<p>Before he dropped the helmet
+in place, Larry said. “It
+isn’t for what might have
+been, Sheila. It’s for what will
+be.�</p>
+
+<p>The helmet snapped shut
+over the shoulder ridges of the
+spacesuit. Moments later, he
+had slipped into the airlock.</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">“I say you’re a fool, Ackerman
+Boone!� one of the enlisted
+men rasped at the leader
+of the mutiny. “I say now
+we’ve lost our last chance.
+Now it’s too late to get into
+the lifeboats even if we
+wanted to. Now all we can do
+is—die!�</p>
+
+<p>There were still ten conscious
+men in the subspace
+room. The others had fallen
+before heat prostration and
+lay strewn about the floor,
+<a class="pagenum" id="page57" title="57"> </a>wringing wet and oddly flaccid
+as if all the moisture had
+been wrung from their bodies
+except for the sweat which
+covered their skins.</p>
+
+<p>“All right,� Ackerman
+Boone admitted. “All right, so
+none of us knows how to work
+the subspace mechanism. You
+think that would have helped?
+It would have killed us all, I
+tell you.�</p>
+
+<p>“It was a chance, Boone.
+Our last chance and you—�</p>
+
+<p>“Just shut up!� Boone
+snarled. “I know what you’re
+thinking. You’re thinking we
+ought to let them officers and
+Secret Servicemen to ram
+home the subspace drive. But
+use your head, man. Probably
+they’ll kill us all, but if they
+don’t—�</p>
+
+<p>“Then you admit there’s a
+chance!�</p>
+
+<p>“Yeah. All right, a chance.
+But if they don’t kill us all, if
+they save us by ramming
+home the subspacer, what happens?
+We’re all taken in on a
+mutiny charge. It’s a capital
+offense, you fool!�</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it’s better than sure
+death,� the man said, and
+moved toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>“Allister, wait!� Boone
+cried. “Wait, I’m warning you.
+Any man who tries to open
+that door—�</p>
+
+<p>Outside, a steady booming
+of blaster fire could be heard,
+but the assault-proof door
+stood fast.</p>
+
+<p>“—is going to get himself
+killed!� Boone finished.</p>
+
+<p>Grimly, Allister reached the
+door and got his already blistered
+fingers on the lock mechanism.</p>
+
+<p>Ackerman Boone shot him
+in the back with an N-gun.</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">Larry’s whole body felt like
+one raw mass of broken blisters
+as, flat on his belly, he
+inched his way along the outside
+hull of the <em>Glory of the
+Galaxy</em>. He had no idea what
+the heat was out here, but it
+radiated off the hot hull of the
+<i>Glory</i> in scalding, suffocating
+waves which swept right
+through the insulining of the
+spacesuit. If he didn’t find the
+proper hatch, and in a matter
+of seconds….</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">“Anyone else?� Ackerman
+Boone screamed. “Anyone else
+like Allister?�</p>
+
+<p>But one by one the remaining
+men were dropping from
+the heat. Finally—alone—Ackerman
+Boone faced the
+door and stared defiantly at
+the hot metal as if he could see
+his adversaries through it. On
+the other side, the firing became
+more sporadic as the officers
+and Secret Servicemen
+collapsed. His mind crazed
+with the heat and with fear,
+<a class="pagenum" id="page58" title="58"> </a>Ackerman Boone suddenly
+wished he could see the men
+through the door, wished he
+could see them die….</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">It was this hatch or nothing.
+He thought it was the
+right one, but couldn’t be sure.
+He could no longer see. His
+vision had gone completely.
+The pain was a numb thing
+now, far away, hardly a part
+of himself. Maybe Mayhem
+was absorbing the pain-sensation
+for him, he thought.
+Maybe Mayhem took the pain
+and suffered with it in the
+shared body so he, Larry,
+could still think. Maybe—</p>
+
+<p>His blistered fingers were
+barely able to move within the
+insulined gloves, Larry fumbled
+with the hatch.</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">Ackerman Boone whirled
+suddenly. He had been intent
+upon the companionway door
+and the sounds behind him—which
+he had heard but not
+registered as dangerous for
+several seconds—now made
+him turn.</p>
+
+<p>The man was peeling off a
+space suit. Literally peeling it
+off in strips from his lobster-red
+flesh. He blinked at Boone
+without seeing him. Dazzle-blinded,
+Boone thought, then
+realized his own vision was
+going.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll kill you if you go near
+that subspace drive!� Boone
+screamed.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s the only chance for all
+of us and you know it, Boone,�
+the man said quietly. “Don’t
+try to stop me.�</p>
+
+<p>Ackerman Boone lifted his
+N-gun and squinted through
+the haze of heat and blinding
+light. He couldn’t see! He
+couldn’t see….</p>
+
+<p>Wildly, he fired the N-gun.
+Wildly, in all directions,
+spraying the room with it—</p>
+
+<p>Larry dropped blindly forward.
+Twice he tripped over
+unconscious men, but climbed
+to his feet and went on. He
+could not see Boone, but he
+could see—vaguely—the muzzle
+flash of Boone’s N-gun. He
+staggered across the room toward
+that muzzle-flash and finally
+embraced it—</p>
+
+<p>And found himself fighting
+for his life. Boone was crazed
+now—with the heat and with
+his own failure. He bit and
+tore at Larry with strong
+claw-like fingers and lashed
+out with his feet. He balled his
+fists and hammered air like a
+windmill, arms flailing, striking
+flesh often enough to batter
+Larry toward the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Grimly Larry clung to him,
+pulled himself upright, ducked
+his head against his chest and
+struck out with his own fists,
+feeling nothing, not knowing
+when they landed and when
+<a class="pagenum" id="page59" title="59"> </a>they did not, hearing nothing
+but a far off roaring in his
+ears, a roaring which told him
+he was losing consciousness
+and had to act—soon—if he
+was going to save anyone….</p>
+
+<p>He stood and pounded with
+his fists.</p>
+
+<p>Pounded—air.</p>
+
+<p>He did not know that Boone
+had collapsed until his feet
+trod on the man’s inert body
+and then, quickly, he rushed
+toward the control board,
+rushed blindly in its direction,
+or in the direction he thought
+it would be, tripped over
+something, sprawled on the
+hot, blistering floor, got himself
+up somehow, crawled
+forward, pulled himself upright….</p>
+
+<p>There was no sensation in
+his fingers. He did not know
+if he had actually reached the
+control board but abruptly he
+realized that he had not felt
+Mayhem’s presence in his
+mind for several minutes. Was
+Mayhem conserving his energy
+for a final try, letting
+Larry absorb the punishment
+now so he—</p>
+
+<p>Yes, Larry remembered
+thinking vaguely. It had to be
+that. For Mayhem knew how
+to work the controls, and he
+did not. Now his mind receded
+into a fog of semi-consciousness,
+but he was aware that
+his blistered fingers were fairly
+flying across the control
+board, aware then of an inward
+sigh—whether of relief
+or triumph, he was never to
+know—then aware, abruptly
+and terribly, of a wrenching
+pain which seemed to strip his
+skin from his flesh, his flesh
+from his bones, the marrow
+from….</p>
+
+<hr class="thoughtbreak" />
+
+<p class="post_thoughtbreak">“Can you see?� the doctor
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,� Larry said as the
+bandages were removed from
+his eyes. Three people were in
+the room with the doctor—Admiral
+Stapleton, the President—and
+Sheila. Somehow,
+Sheila was most important.</p>
+
+<p>“We are now in subspace,
+thanks to you,� the Admiral
+said. “We all have minor injuries
+as a result of the transfer,
+but there were only two
+fatalities, I’m happy to say.
+And naturally, the ship is now
+out of danger.�</p>
+
+<p>“What gets me, Grange,�
+the President said, “is how
+you managed to work those
+controls. What the devil do
+you know about sub-space, my
+boy?�</p>
+
+<p>“The two fatalities,� the
+Admiral said, “were Ackerman
+Boone and the man he
+had killed.� Then the Admiral
+grinned. “Can’t you see, Mr.
+President, that he’s not paying
+any attention to us? I think,
+<a class="pagenum" id="page60" title="60"> </a>at the moment, the hero of the
+hour only has eyes for Miss
+Kelly here.�</p>
+
+<p>“Begging your pardons,
+sirs, yes,� Larry said happily.</p>
+
+<p>Nodding and smiling, the
+President of the Galactic Federation
+and Admiral Stapleton
+left the dispensary room—with
+the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, hero,� Sheila said,
+and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>Larry realized—quite suddenly—that,
+inside himself,
+he was alone. Mayhem had
+done his job—and vanished
+utterly.</p>
+
+<p>“You know,� Sheila said,
+“it’s as if you—well, I hope
+this doesn’t get you sore at
+me—as if you grew up overnight.�</p>
+
+<p>Before he kissed her Larry
+said: “Maybe you’re right.
+Maybe I’ll tell you about it
+someday. But you’d never believe
+me.�</p>
+
+<div id="the_end">
+	<p class="end">THE END</p>
+
+	<p class="transcriber_note">Transcriber’s note: the few typographical changes are indicated by a dotted red line under the word that has changed.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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@@ -0,0 +1,1507 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Place in the Sun, by C.H. Thames
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Place in the Sun
+
+Author: C.H. Thames
+
+Release Date: October 19, 2008 [EBook #26966]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PLACE IN THE SUN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Barbara Tozier and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+    This etext was produced from _Amazing Stories_ October 1956.
+    Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+    copyright on this publication was renewed.
+
+
+
+
+A "JOHNNY MAYHEM" ADVENTURE
+
+
+
+
+A PLACE IN THE SUN
+
+
+
+By C. H. THAMES
+
+
+    _Mayhem, the man of many bodies, had been given some weird
+    assignments in his time, but saving The Glory of the Galaxy
+    wasn't difficult--it was downright impossible!_
+
+
+The SOS crackled and hummed through subspace at a speed which left
+laggard light far behind. Since subspace distances do not coincide with
+normal space distances, the SOS was first picked up by a Fomalhautian
+freighter bound for Capella although it had been issued from a point in
+normal space midway between the orbit of Mercury and the sun's corona in
+the solar system.
+
+    [Illustration: The terrible weapon blasted death and carnage
+    through the ship.]
+
+The radioman of the Fomalhautian freighter gave the distress signal to
+the Deck Officer, who looked at it, blinked, and bolted 'bove decks to
+the captain's cabin. His face was very white when he reached the door
+and his heart pounded with excitement. As the Deck Officer crossed an
+electronic beam before the door a metallic voice said: "The Captain is
+asleep and will be disturbed for nothing but emergency priority."
+
+Nodding, the Deck officer stuck his thumb in the whorl-lock of the door
+and entered the cabin. "Begging your pardon, sir," he cried, "but we
+just received an SOS from--"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Captain stirred groggily, sat up, switched on a green night light
+and squinted through it at the Deck Officer. "Well, what is it? Isn't
+the Eye working?"
+
+"Yes, sir. An SOS, sir...."
+
+"If we're close enough to help, subspace or normal space, take the usual
+steps, lieutenant. Surely you don't need me to--"
+
+"The usual steps can't be taken, sir. Far as I can make out, that ship
+is doomed. She's bound on collision course for Sol, only twenty million
+miles out now."
+
+"That's too bad, lieutenant," the Captain said with genuine sympathy in
+his voice. "I'm sorry to hear that. But what do you want me to do about
+it?"
+
+"The ship, sir. The ship that sent the SOS--hold on to your hat, sir--"
+
+"Get to the point now, will you, young man?" the Captain growled
+sleepily.
+
+"The ship which sent the SOS signal, the ship heading on collision
+course for Sol, is the _Glory of the Galaxy_!"
+
+For a moment the Captain said nothing. Distantly, you could hear the hum
+of the subspace drive-unit and the faint whining of the stasis
+generator. Then the Captain bolted out of bed after unstrapping himself.
+In his haste he forgot the ship was in weightless deep space and went
+sailing, arms flailing air, across the room. The lieutenant helped him
+down and into his magnetic-soled shoes.
+
+"My God," the Captain said finally. "Why did it happen? Why did it have
+to happen to the _Glory of the Galaxy_?"
+
+"What are you going to do, sir?"
+
+"_I_ can't do anything. I won't take the responsibility. Have the
+radioman contact the Hub at once."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+_The Glory of the Galaxy_, the SOS ship heading on collision course with
+the sun, was making its maiden run from the assembly satellites of Earth
+across the inner solar system via the perihelion passage which would
+bring it within twenty-odd million miles of the sun, to Mars which now
+was on the opposite side of Sol from Earth. Aboard the gleaming new ship
+was the President of the Galactic Federation and his entire cabinet.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Fomalhautian freighter's emergency message was received at the Hub
+of the Galaxy within moments after it had been sent, although the normal
+space distance was in the neighborhood of one hundred thousand light
+years. The message was bounced--in amazingly quick time--from office to
+office at the hub, cutting through the usual red tape because of its top
+priority. And--since none of the normal agencies at the Hub could handle
+it--the message finally arrived at an office which very rarely received
+official messages of any kind. This was the one unofficial, extra-legal
+office at the Hub of the Galaxy. Lacking official function, the office
+had no technical existence and was not to be found in any Directory of
+the Hub. At the moment, two young men were seated inside. Their sole job
+was to maintain liaison with a man whose very existence was doubted by
+most of the human inhabitants of the Galaxy but whose importance could
+not be measured by mere human standards in those early days when the
+Galactic League was becoming the Galactic Federation.
+
+The name of the man with whom they maintained contact was Johnny Mayhem.
+
+"Did you read it?" the blond man asked.
+
+"I read it."
+
+"If it got down here, that means they can't handle it anywhere else."
+
+"Of course they can't. What the hell could normal slobs like them or
+like us do about it?"
+
+"Nothing, I guess. But wait a minute! You don't mean you're going to
+send Mayhem, without asking him, without telling--"
+
+"We can't ask him now, can we?"
+
+"Johnny Mayhem's _elan_ is at the moment speeding from Canopus to Deneb,
+where on the fourth planet of the Denebian system a dead body is waiting
+for him in cold storage. The turnover from League to Federation status
+of the Denebian system is causing trouble in Deneb City, so Mayhem--"
+
+"Deneb City will probably survive without Mayhem. Well, won't it?"
+
+"I guess so, but--"
+
+"I know. The deal is we're supposed to tell Mayhem where he's going and
+what he can expect. The deal also is, every inhabited world has a body
+waiting for his _elan_ in cold storage. But don't you think if we could
+talk to Mayhem now--"
+
+"It isn't possible. He's in transit."
+
+"Don't you think if we could talk to him now he would agree to board the
+_Glory of the Galaxy_?"
+
+"How should I know? I'm not Johnny Mayhem."
+
+"If he doesn't board her, it's certain death for all of them."
+
+"And if he does board her, what the hell can he do about it? Besides,
+there isn't any dead body awaiting his _elan_ on that ship or any ship.
+He wouldn't make a very efficacious ghost."
+
+"But there are live people. Scores of them. Mayhem's _elan_ is quite
+capable of possessing a living host."
+
+"Sure. Theoretically it is. But damn it all, what would the results be?
+We've never tried it. It's liable to damage Mayhem. As for the host--"
+
+"The host might die. I know it. But he'll die anyway. The whole shipload
+of them is heading on collision course for the sun."
+
+"Does the SOS say why?"
+
+"No. Maybe Mayhem can find out and do something about it."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Yeah, maybe. That's a hell of a way to risk the life of the most
+important man in the Galaxy. Because if Mayhem boards that ship and
+can't do anything about it, he'll die with the rest of them."
+
+"Why? We could always pluck his _elan_ out again."
+
+"_If_ he were inhabiting a dead one. In a live body, I don't think so.
+The attraction would be stronger. There would be forces of cohesion--"
+
+"That's true. Still, Mayhem's our only hope."
+
+"I'll admit it's a job for Mayhem, but he's too important."
+
+"Is he? Don't be a fool. What, actually, is Johnny Mayhem's importance?
+His importance lies in the very fact that he is expendable. His
+life--for the furtherance of the new Galactic Federation."
+
+"But--"
+
+"And the President is aboard that ship. Maybe he can't do as much for
+the Galaxy in the long run as Mayhem can, but don't you see, man, he's a
+figurehead. Right now he's the most important man in the Galaxy, and if
+we could talk to him I'm sure Mayhem would agree. Mayhem would want to
+board that ship."
+
+"It's funny, we've been working with Mayhem all these years and we never
+even met the guy."
+
+"Would you know him if you saw him?"
+
+"Umm-mm, I guess not. Do you think we really can halt his _elan_ in
+subspace and divert it over to the _Glory of the Galaxy_?"
+
+"I take it you're beginning to see things my way. And the answer to your
+question is yes."
+
+"Poor Mayhem. You know, I actually feel sorry for the guy. He's had more
+adventures than anyone since Homer wrote the _Odyssey_ and there won't
+ever be any rest for him."
+
+"Stop feeling sorry for him and start hoping he succeeds."
+
+"Yeah."
+
+"And let's see about getting a bead on his _elan_."
+
+The two young men walked to a tri-dim chart which took up much of the
+room. One of them touched a button and blue light glowed within the
+chart, pulsing brightly and sharply where space-sectors intersected.
+
+"He's in C-17 now," one of the men said as a gleaming whiteness was
+suddenly superimposed at a single point on the blue.
+
+"Can you bead him?"
+
+"I think so. But I still feel sorry for Mayhem. He's expecting to wake
+up in a cold-storage corpse on Deneb IV but instead he'll come to in a
+living body aboard a spaceship on collision course for the sun."
+
+"Just hope he--"
+
+"I know. Succeeds. I don't even want to think of the possibility he
+might fail."
+
+In seconds, the gleaming white dot crawled across the surface of the
+tri-dim chart from sector C-17 to sector S-1.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The _Glory of the Galaxy_ was now nineteen million miles out from the
+sun and rushing through space at a hundred miles per second, normal
+space drive. The _Glory of the Galaxy_ thus moved a million miles closer
+to fiery destruction every three hours--but since the sun's
+gravitational force had to be added to that speed, the ship was slated
+to plunge into the sun's corona in little more than twenty-four hours.
+
+Since the ship's refrigeration units would function perfectly until the
+outer hull reached a temperature of eleven hundred degrees Fahrenheit,
+none of its passengers knew that anything was wrong. Even the members of
+the crew went through all the normal motions. Only the _Glory of the
+Galaxy's_ officers in their bright new uniforms and gold braid knew the
+grim truth of what awaited the gleaming two-thousand ton spaceship less
+than twenty-four hours away at the exact center of its perihelion
+passage.
+
+Something--unidentified as yet--in all the thousands of intricate things
+that could go wrong on a spaceship, particularly a new one making its
+maiden voyage, had gone wrong. The officers were checking their
+catalogues and their various areas of watch meticulously--and not
+because their own lives were at stake. In spaceflight, your own life
+always is at stake. There are too many imponderables: you are, to a
+certain degree, expendable. The commissioned contingent aboard the
+_Glory of the Galaxy_ was a dedicated group, hand-picked from all the
+officers in the solar system.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But they could find nothing. And do nothing.
+
+Within a day, their lives along with the lives of the enlisted men
+aboard the _Glory of the Galaxy_ and the passengers on its maiden run,
+would be snuffed out in a brilliant burst of solar heat.
+
+And the President of the Galactic Federation would die because some
+unknown factor had locked the controls of the spaceship, making it
+impossible to turn or use forward rockets against the gravitational pull
+of the sun.
+
+Nineteen million miles. In normal space, a considerable distance. A
+hundred miles a second--a very considerable normal space speed.
+Increasing....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ever since they had left Earth's assembly satellites, Sheila Kelly had
+seen a lot of a Secret Serviceman named Larry Grange, who was a member
+of the President's corps of bodyguards. She liked Larry, although there
+was nothing serious in their relationship. He was handsome and charming
+and she was naturally flattered with his attentions. Still, although he
+was older than Sheila, she sensed that he was a boy rather than a man
+and had the odd feeling that, faced with a real crisis, he would confirm
+this tragically.
+
+It was night aboard the _Glory of the Galaxy_. Which was to say the
+blue-green night lights had replaced the white day lights in the
+companionways and public rooms of the spaceship, since its ports were
+sealed against the fierce glare of the sun. It was hard to believe,
+Sheila thought, that they were only nineteen million miles from the sun.
+Everything was so cool--so comfortably air-conditioned....
+
+She met Larry in the Sunside Lounge, a cabaret as nice as any terran
+nightclub she had ever seen. There were stylistic Zodiac drawings on the
+walls and blue-mirrored columns supporting the roof. Like everything
+else aboard the _Glory of the Galaxy_, the Sunside Lounge hardly seemed
+to belong on a spaceship. For Sheila Kelly, though--herself a third
+secretary with the department of Galactic Economy--it was all very
+thrilling.
+
+"Hello, Larry," she said as the Secret Serviceman joined her at their
+table. He was a tall young man in his late twenties with crewcut blond
+hair; but he sat down heavily now and did not offer Sheila his usual
+smile.
+
+"Why, what on earth is the matter?" Sheila asked him.
+
+"Nothing. I need a drink, that's all."
+
+The drinks came. Larry gulped his and ordered another. His complete
+silence baffled Sheila, who finally said:
+
+"Surely it isn't anything I did."
+
+"You? Don't be silly."
+
+"Well! After the way you said that I don't know if I should be glad or
+not."
+
+"Just forget it. I'm sorry, kid. I--" He reached out and touched her
+hand. His own hand was damp and cold.
+
+"Going to tell me, Larry?"
+
+"Listen. What's a guy supposed to do if he overhears something he's not
+supposed to overhear, and--"
+
+"How should I know unless you tell me what you overheard? It is you
+you're talking about, isn't it?"
+
+"Yeah. I was going off duty, walking by officer quarters and ... oh,
+forget it. I better not tell you."
+
+"I'm a good listener, Larry."
+
+"Look, Irish. You're a good anything--and that's the truth. You have
+looks and you have brains and I have a hunch through all that Emerald
+Isle sauciness you have a heart too. But--"
+
+"But you don't want to tell me."
+
+"It isn't I don't want to, but no one's supposed to know, not even the
+President."
+
+"You sure make it sound mysterious."
+
+"Just the officers. Oh, hell. I don't know. What good would it do if I
+told you?"
+
+"I guess you'd just get it off your chest, that's all."
+
+"I can't tell anyone official, Sheila. I'd have my head handed to me.
+But I've got to think and I've got to tell someone. I'll go crazy, just
+knowing and not doing anything."
+
+"It's important, isn't it?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Larry downed another drink quickly. It was his fourth and Sheila had
+never seen him take more than three or four in the course of a whole
+evening. "You're damned right it's important." Larry leaned forward
+across the postage-stamp table. A liquor-haze clouded his eyes as he
+said: "It's so important that unless someone does something about it,
+we'll all be dead inside of twenty-four hours. Only trouble is, there
+isn't anything anyone can do about it."
+
+"Larry--you're a little drunk."
+
+"I know it. I know I am. I want to be a lot drunker. What the hell can a
+guy do?"
+
+"What do you know, Larry? What have you heard?"
+
+"I know they have the President of the Galactic Federation aboard this
+ship and that he ought to be told the truth."
+
+"No. I mean--"
+
+"They sent out an SOS, kid. Controls are locked. Lifeboats don't have
+enough power to get us out of the sun's gravitational pull. We're all
+going to roast, I tell you!"
+
+Sheila felt her heart throb wildly. Even though he was well on the way
+to being thoroughly drunk, Larry was telling the truth. Instinctively,
+she knew that--was certain of it. "What are you going to do?" she said.
+
+He shrugged. "I guess because I can't do a damned thing I'm going to get
+good and drunk. That's what I'm going to do. Or maybe--who the hell
+knows?--maybe in one minute I'm going to jump up on this table and tell
+everyone what I overheard. Maybe I ought to do that, huh?"
+
+"Larry, Larry--if it's as bad as you say, maybe you ought to think
+before you do anything."
+
+"Who am I to think? I'm one of the muscle men. That's what they pay me
+for, isn't it?"
+
+"Larry. You don't have to shout."
+
+"Well, isn't it?"
+
+"If you don't calm down I'll have to leave."
+
+"You can sit still. You can park here all night. _I'm_ leaving."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"Oh ... that." Larry got up from the table. He looked suddenly green and
+Sheila thought it was because he had too much to drink. "You don't have
+to worry about that, Sheila. Not now you don't. I all of a sudden don't
+feel so good. Headache. Man, I never felt anything like it. Better go to
+my cabin and lie down. Maybe I'll wake up and find out all this was a
+dream, huh?"
+
+"Do you need any help?" Sheila demanded, real concern in her voice.
+
+"No. 'Sall right. Man, this headache really snuck up on me. Pow! Without
+any warning."
+
+"Let me help you."
+
+"No. Just leave me alone, will you?" Larry staggered off across the
+crowded dance floor. He drew angry glances and muttered comments as he
+disturbed the dancers waltzing to Carlotti's _Danube in Space_.
+
+Why don't you admit it, Grange, Larry thought as he staggered through
+the companionway toward his cabin. That's what you always wanted, isn't
+it--a place of importance?
+
+A place in the sun, they call it.
+
+"You're going to get a place in the sun, all right," he mumbled aloud.
+"Right smack in the middle of the sun with everyone else aboard this
+ship!"
+
+The humor of it amused him perversely. He smiled--but it was closer to a
+leer--and lunged into his cabin. What he said to Sheila was no joke. He
+really did have a splitting headache. It had come on suddenly and it was
+like no headache he had ever known. It pulsed and throbbed and beat
+against his temples and held red hot needles to the backs of his
+eyeballs, almost blinding him. It sapped all his strength, leaving him
+physically weak. He was barely able to close the door behind him and
+stagger to the shower.
+
+An ice cold shower, he thought would help. He stripped quickly and got
+under the needle spray. By that time he was so weak he could barely
+stand.
+
+A place in the sun, he thought....
+
+Something grabbed his mind and wrenched it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Johnny Mayhem awoke.
+
+Awakening came slowly, as it always did. It was a rising through
+infinite gulfs, a rebirth for a man who had died a hundred times and
+might die a thousand times more as the years piled up and became
+centuries. It was a spinning, whirling, flashing ascent from blackness
+to coruscating colors, brightness, giddiness.
+
+And suddenly, it was over.
+
+A needle spray of ice-cold water beat down upon him. He shuddered and
+reached for the water-taps, shutting them. Dripping, he climbed from the
+shower.
+
+And floated up--quite weightless--toward the ceiling.
+
+Frowning with his new and as yet unseen face, Johnny Mayhem propelled
+himself to the floor. He looked at his arms. He was naked--at least that
+much was right.
+
+But obviously, since he was weightless, he was not on Deneb IV. During
+his transmigration he had been briefed for the trouble on Deneb IV. Then
+had a mistake been made somehow? It was always possible--but it had
+never happened before.
+
+Too much precision and careful planning was involved.
+
+Every world which had an Earthman population and a Galactic League--now,
+Galactic Federation--post, must have a body in cold storage, waiting for
+Johnny Mayhem if his services were required. No one knew when Mayhem's
+services might be required. No one knew exactly under what circumstances
+the Galactic Federation Council, operating from the Hub of the Galaxy,
+might summon Mayhem. And only a very few people, including those at the
+Hub and the Galactic League Firstmen on civilized worlds and Observers
+on frontier planets, knew the precise mechanics of Mayhem's coming.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Johnny Mayhem, a bodiless sentience. Mayhem--Johnny Marlow then--who
+had been chased from Earth a pariah and a criminal seven years ago, who
+had been mortally wounded on a wild planet deep within the Sagittarian
+Swarm, whose life had been saved--after a fashion--by the white magic
+of that planet. Mayhem, doomed now to possible immortality as a
+bodiless sentience, an _elan_, which could occupy and activate a corpse
+if it had been preserved properly ... an _elan_ doomed to wander
+eternally because it could not remain in one body for more than a month
+without body and _elan_ perishing. Mayhem, who had dedicated his
+strange, lonely life to the services of the Galactic League--now the
+Galactic Federation--because a normal life and normal social relations
+were not possible to him....
+
+It did not seem possible, Mayhem thought now, that a mistake could be
+made. Then--a sudden change in plans?
+
+It had never happened before, but it was entirely possible. Something,
+Mayhem decided, had come up during transmigration. It was terribly
+important and the people at the Hub had had no opportunity to brief him
+on it.
+
+But--what?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+His first shock came a moment later. He walked to a mirror on the wall
+and approved of the strong young body which would house his sentience
+and then scowled. A thought inside his head said:
+
+_So this is what it's like to have schizophrenia._
+
+_What the hell was that?_ Mayhem thought.
+
+_I said, so this is what it's like to have schizophrenia. First the
+world's worst headache and then I start thinking like two different
+people._
+
+_Aren't you dead?_
+
+_Is that supposed to be a joke, alter ego? When do the men in the white
+suits come?_
+
+_Good Lord, this was supposed to be a dead body!_
+
+At that, the other sentience which shared the body with Mayhem snickered
+and lapsed into silence. Mayhem, for his part, was astounded.
+
+_Don't get ornery now_, Mayhem pleaded. _I'm Johnny Mayhem. Does that
+mean anything to you?_
+
+_Oh, sure. It means I'm dead. You inhabit dead bodies, right?_
+
+_Usually. Listen--where are we?_
+
+Glory of the Galaxy--_bound from Earth to Mars on perihelion._
+
+_And there's trouble?_
+
+_How do you know there's trouble?_
+
+_Otherwise they wouldn't have diverted me here._
+
+_We've got the president aboard. We're going to hit the sun._ Then,
+grudgingly, Larry went into the details. When he finished he thought
+cynically: _Now all you have to do is go outside yelling have no fear,
+Mayhem is here and everything will be all right, I suppose._
+
+Mayhem didn't answer. It would be many moments yet before he could
+adjust to this new, unexpected situation. But in a way, he thought, it
+would be a boon. If he were co-inhabiting the body of a living man who
+belonged on the _Glory of the Galaxy_, there was no need to reveal his
+identity as Johnny Mayhem to anyone but his host....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I tell ya," Technician First Class Ackerman Boone shouted, "the
+refrigeration unit's gone on the blink. You can't feel it yet, but I
+ought to know. I got the refrigs working full strength and we gained a
+couple of degrees heat. Either she's on the blink or we're too close to
+the sun, I tell you!"
+
+Ackerman Boone was a big man, a veteran spacer with a squat, very strong
+body and arms like an orangutan. Under normal circumstances he was a
+very fine spacer and a good addition to any crew, but he bore an
+unreasonable grudge against the officer corps and would go out of his
+way to make them look bad in the eyes of the other enlisted men. A large
+crowd had gathered in the hammock-hung crew quarters of the _Glory of
+the Galaxy_ as Boone went on in his deep, booming voice: "So I asked the
+skipper of the watch, I did. He got shifty-eyed, like they always do.
+You know. He wasn't talking, but sure as my name's Ackerman Boone,
+something's wrong."
+
+"What do you think it is, Acky?" one of the younger men asked.
+
+"Well, I tell ya this: I know what it _isn't_. I checked out the refrigs
+three times, see, and came up with nothing. The refrigs are in jig
+order, and if I know it then you know it. So, if the refrigs are in jig
+order, there's only one thing it can be: we're getting too near the
+sun!" Boone clamped his mouth shut and stood with thick, muscular arms
+crossed over his barrel chest.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A young technician third class said in a strident voice, "You mean you
+think maybe we're plunging into the sun, Acky?"
+
+"Well, now, I didn't say that. Did I, boy? But we _are_ too close and if
+we are too close there's got to be a reason for it. If we stay too close
+too long, O.K. Then we're plunging into the sun. Right now, I dunno."
+
+They all asked Ackerman Boone, who was an unofficial leader among them,
+what he was going to do. He rubbed his big fingers against the thick
+stubble of beard on his jaw and you could hear the rasping sound it
+made. Then he said, "Nothing, until we find out for sure. But I got a
+hunch the officers are trying to pull the wool over the eyes of them
+politicians we got on board. That's all right with me, men. If they want
+to, they got their reasons. But I tell ya this: they ain't going to pull
+any wool over Acky Boone's eyes, and that's a fact."
+
+Just then the squawk box called: "Now hear this! Now hear this! Tech/1
+Ackerman Boone to Exec's office. Tech/1 Boone to Exec."
+
+"You see?" Boone said, smiling grimly. As yet, no one saw. His face
+still set in a grim smile, Ackerman Boone headed above decks.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"That, Mr. President," Vice Admiral T. Shawnley Stapleton said gravely,
+"is the problem. We would have come to you sooner, sir, but frankly--"
+
+"I know it, Admiral," the President said quietly. "I could not have
+helped you in any way. There was no sense telling me."
+
+"We have one chance, sir, and one only. It's irregular and it will
+probably knock the hell out of the _Glory of the Galaxy_, but it may
+save our lives. If we throw the ship suddenly into subspace we could
+pass right through the sun's position and--"
+
+"I'm no scientist, Admiral, but wouldn't that put tremendous stress not
+only on the ship but on all of us aboard?"
+
+"It would, sir. I won't keep anything from you, of course. We'd all be
+subjected to a force of twenty-some gravities for a period of several
+seconds. Here aboard the _Glory_, we don't have adequate G-equipment.
+It's something like the old days of air flight, sir: as soon as
+airplanes became reasonably safe, passenger ships didn't bother to carry
+parachutes. Result over a period of fifty years: thousands of lives
+lost. We'd all be bruised and battered, sir. Bones would be broken.
+There might be a few deaths. But I see no other way out, sir."
+
+"Then there was no need to check with me at all, I assure you, Admiral
+Stapleton. Do whatever you think is best, sir."
+
+The Admiral nodded gravely. "Thank you, Mr. President. I will say this,
+though: we will wait for a miracle."
+
+"I'm afraid I don't follow you."
+
+"Well, I don't expect a miracle, but the switchover to subspace so
+suddenly is bound to be dangerous. Therefore, we'll wait until the last
+possible moment. It will grow uncomfortably warm, let me warn you, but
+as long as the subspace drive is in good working order--"
+
+"I see what you mean, Admiral. You have a free hand, sir; let me repeat
+that. I will not interfere in any way and I have the utmost confidence
+in you." The President mopped his brow with an already damp
+handkerchief. It _was_ growing warm, come to think of it. Uncomfortably
+warm.
+
+As if everyone aboard the _Glory of the Galaxy_ was slowly being broiled
+alive....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ackerman Boone entered the crew quarters with the same smile still on
+his lips. At first he said nothing, but his silence drew the men like a
+magnet draws iron filings. When they had all clustered about him he
+spoke.
+
+"The Exec not only chewed my ears off," he boomed. "He all but spit them
+in my face! I was right, men. He admitted it to me after he saw how he
+couldn't get away with anything in front of Ackerman Boone. Men, we're
+heading on collision course with the sun!"
+
+A shocked silence greeted his words and Ackerman Boone, instinctively a
+born speaker, paused dramatically to allow each man the private horror
+of his own thoughts for a few moments. Then he continued: "The Admiral
+figures we have one chance to get out of this alive, men. He figures--"
+
+"What is it, Acky?"
+
+"What will he do?"
+
+"How will the Admiral get us out of this?"
+
+Ackerman Boone spat on the polished, gleaming floor of the crew
+quarters. "He'll never get us out alive, let me tell you. He wants to
+shift us into subspace at the last possible minute. Suddenly. Like
+this--" and Ackerman Boone snapped his fingers.
+
+"There'd be a ship full of broken bones!" someone protested. "We can't
+do a thing like that."
+
+"He'll kill us all!" a very young T/3 cried hysterically.
+
+"Not if I can help it, he won't," shouted Ackerman Boone. "Listen, men.
+This ain't a question of discipline. It's a question of living or dying
+and I tell you that's more important than doing it like the book says or
+discipline or anything like that. We got a chance, all right: but it
+ain't what the Admiral thinks it is. We ought to abandon the _Glory_ to
+her place in the sun and scram out of here in the lifeboats--every last
+person aboard ship."
+
+"But will they have enough power to get out of the sun's gravitational
+pull?" someone asked.
+
+Ackerman Boone shrugged. "Don't look at me," he said mockingly. "I'm
+only an enlisted man and they don't give enlisted men enough math to
+answer questions like that. But reckoning by the seat of my pants I
+would say, yes. Yes, we could get away like that--if we act fast.
+Because every minute we waste is a minute that brings us closer to the
+sun and makes it harder to get away in the lifeboats. If we act, men, we
+got to act fast."
+
+"You're talking mutiny, Boone," a grizzled old space veteran said. "You
+can count me out."
+
+"What's the matter, McCormick? Yellow?"
+
+"I'm not yellow. I say it takes guts to maintain discipline in a real
+emergency. I say _you're_ yellow, Boone."
+
+"You better be ready to back that up with your fists, McCormick," Boone
+said savagely.
+
+"I'm ready any time you're ready, you yellow mutinous bastard!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ackerman Boone launched himself at the smaller, older man, who stood his
+ground unflinchingly although he probably knew he would take a sound
+beating. But four or five crewmen came between them and held them apart,
+one saying:
+
+"Look who's talking, Boone. You say time's precious but you're all set
+to start fighting. Every minute--"
+
+"Every _second_," Boone said grimly, "brings us more than a hundred
+miles closer to the sun."
+
+"What can we do, Acky?"
+
+Instead of answer, Ackerman Boone dramatically mopped the sweat from his
+face. All the men were uncomfortably warm now. It was obvious that the
+temperature within the _Glory of the Galaxy_ had now climbed fifteen or
+twenty degrees despite the fact that the refrigs were working at full
+capacity. Even the bulkheads and the metal floor of crew quarters were
+unpleasantly warm to the touch. The air was hot and suddenly very dry.
+
+"I'll tell you what we ought to do," Ackerman Boone said finally.
+"Admiral Stapleton or no Admiral Stapleton, President of the Galactic
+Federation or no President of the Galactic Federation, we ought to take
+over this ship and man the life boats for everyone's good. If they don't
+want to save their lives and ours--let's us save our lives and theirs!"
+
+Roars of approval greeted Boone's words, but Spacer McCormick and some
+of the other veterans stood apart from the loud speech-making which
+followed. Actually, Boone's wild words--which he gambled with after the
+first flush of enthusiasm for his plan--began to lose converts. One by
+one the men drifted toward McCormick's silent group until, finally,
+Boone had lost almost his entire audience.
+
+Just then a T/2 rushed into crew quarters and shouted: "Hey, is Boone
+around? Has anyone seen Boone?"
+
+This brought general laughter. Under the circumstances, the question was
+not without its humorous aspect.
+
+"What'll you have?" Boone demanded.
+
+"The refrigs, Boone! They are on the blink. Overstrained themselves and
+burned themselves out. Inside of half an hour this ship's going to be an
+oven hot enough to kill us all!"
+
+"Half an hour, men!" Ackerman Boone cried. "Now, do we take over the
+ship and man those lifeboats or don't we!"
+
+The roar which followed his words was a decidedly affirmative one.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"These are the figures," Admiral Stapleton said. "You can see, Mr.
+President, that we have absolutely no chance whatever if we man the
+lifeboats. We would perish as assuredly as we would if we remained with
+the _Glory of the Galaxy_ in normal space."
+
+"Admiral, I have to hand it to you. I don't know how you can think--in
+all this heat."
+
+"Have to, sir. Otherwise we all die."
+
+"The air temperature--"
+
+"Is a hundred and thirty degrees and rising. We've passed salt tablets
+out to everyone, sir, but even then it's only a matter of time before
+we're all prostrated. If you're sure you give your permission, sir--"
+
+"Admiral Stapleton, you are running this ship, not I."
+
+"Very well, sir. I've sent our subspace officer, Lieutenant Ormundy, to
+throw in the subspace drive. We should know in a few moments--"
+
+"No crash hammocks or anything?"
+
+"I'm sorry, sir."
+
+"It isn't your fault, Admiral. I was merely pointing out a fact."
+
+The squawk box blared: "Now hear this! Now hear this! T/3 Ackerman Boone
+to Admiral Stapleton. Are you listening, Admiral?"
+
+Admiral Stapleton's haggard, heat-worn face bore a look of astonishment
+as he listened. Ackerman said, "We have Lieutenant Ormundy, Admiral.
+He's not killing us all by putting us into subspace in minutes when it
+ought to take hours, you understand. We have Ormundy and we have the
+subspace room. A contingent of our men is getting the lifeboats ready.
+We're going to abandon ship, Admiral, all of us, including you and the
+politicians even if we have to drag you aboard the lifeboats at
+N--gunpoint."
+
+Admiral Stapleton's face went ashen. "Let me at a radio!" he roared. "I
+want to answer that man and see if he understands exactly what mutiny
+is!"
+
+While Ackerman Boone was talking over the squawk box, the temperature
+within the _Glory of the Galaxy_ rose to 145 deg. Fahrenheit.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Fifteen minutes," Larry Grange said. "In fifteen minutes the heat will
+have us all unconscious." Only it wasn't Larry alone who was talking. It
+was Larry and Johnny Mayhem. In a surprisingly short time the young
+Secret Serviceman had come to accept the dual occupation of his own
+mind. It was there: it was either dual occupation or insanity and if the
+voice which spoke inside his head said it was Johnny Mayhem, then it was
+Johnny Mayhem. Besides, Larry felt clear-headed in a way he had never
+felt before, despite the terrible, sapping heat. It was as if he had
+matured suddenly--the word matured came to him instinctively--in the
+space of minutes. Or, as if a maturing influence were at work on his
+mind.
+
+"What can we do?" Sheila said. "The crew has complete control of the
+ship."
+
+"Secret Service chief says we're on our own. There's no time for
+co-ordinated planning, but somehow, within a very few minutes, we've got
+to get inside the subspace room and throw the ship out of normal space
+or we'll all be roasted."
+
+"Some of your men are there now, aren't they?"
+
+"In the companionway outside the subspace room, yeah. But they'll never
+force their way in time. Not with blasters and not with N-guns, either.
+Not in ten minutes, they won't."
+
+"Larry, all of a sudden I--I'm scared. We're all going to die, Larry. I
+don't want--Larry, what are you going to do?"
+
+They had been walking in a deserted companionway which brought them to
+one of the aft escape hatches of the _Glory of the Galaxy_. Their
+clothing was plastered to their bodies with sweat and every breath was
+agonizing, furnace hot.
+
+"I'm going outside," Larry said quietly.
+
+"Outside? What do you mean?"
+
+"Spacesuit, outside. There's a hatch in the subspace room. If their
+attention is diverted to the companionway door, I may be able to get in.
+It's our only chance--ours, and everyone's."
+
+"But the spacesuit--"
+
+"I know," Larry said even as he was climbing into the inflatable vacuum
+garment. It was Larry--and it wasn't Larry. He felt a certain
+confidence, a certain sense of doing the right thing--a feeling which
+Larry Grange had never experienced before in his life. It was as if the
+boy had become a man in the final moments of his life--or, he thought
+all at once, it was as if Johnny Mayhem who shared his mind and his body
+with him was somehow transmitting some of his own skills and confidence
+even as he--Mayhem--had reached the decision to go outside.
+
+"I know," he said. "The spacesuit isn't insulated sufficiently. I'll
+have about three minutes out there. Three minutes to get inside.
+Otherwise, I'm finished."
+
+"But Larry--"
+
+"Don't you see, Sheila? What does it matter? Who wants the five or ten
+extra minutes if we're all going to die anyway? This way, there's a
+chance."
+
+He buckled the spacesuit and lifted the heavy fishbowl helmet, preparing
+to set it on his shoulders.
+
+"Wait," Sheila said, and stood on tiptoes to take his face in her hands
+and kiss him on the lips. "You--you're different," Sheila said. "You're
+the same guy, a lot of fun, but you're a--man, too. This is for what
+might have been, Larry," she said, and kissed him again. "This is
+because I love you."
+
+Before he dropped the helmet in place, Larry said. "It isn't for what
+might have been, Sheila. It's for what will be."
+
+The helmet snapped shut over the shoulder ridges of the spacesuit.
+Moments later, he had slipped into the airlock.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I say you're a fool, Ackerman Boone!" one of the enlisted men rasped at
+the leader of the mutiny. "I say now we've lost our last chance. Now
+it's too late to get into the lifeboats even if we wanted to. Now all we
+can do is--die!"
+
+There were still ten conscious men in the subspace room. The others had
+fallen before heat prostration and lay strewn about the floor, wringing
+wet and oddly flaccid as if all the moisture had been wrung from their
+bodies except for the sweat which covered their skins.
+
+"All right," Ackerman Boone admitted. "All right, so none of us knows
+how to work the subspace mechanism. You think that would have helped? It
+would have killed us all, I tell you."
+
+"It was a chance, Boone. Our last chance and you--"
+
+"Just shut up!" Boone snarled. "I know what you're thinking. You're
+thinking we ought to let them officers and Secret Servicemen to ram home
+the subspace drive. But use your head, man. Probably they'll kill us
+all, but if they don't--"
+
+"Then you admit there's a chance!"
+
+"Yeah. All right, a chance. But if they don't kill us all, if they save
+us by ramming home the subspacer, what happens? We're all taken in on a
+mutiny charge. It's a capital offense, you fool!"
+
+"Well, it's better than sure death," the man said, and moved toward the
+door.
+
+"Allister, wait!" Boone cried. "Wait, I'm warning you. Any man who tries
+to open that door--"
+
+Outside, a steady booming of blaster fire could be heard, but the
+assault-proof door stood fast.
+
+"--is going to get himself killed!" Boone finished.
+
+Grimly, Allister reached the door and got his already blistered fingers
+on the lock mechanism.
+
+Ackerman Boone shot him in the back with an N-gun.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Larry's whole body felt like one raw mass of broken blisters as, flat on
+his belly, he inched his way along the outside hull of the _Glory of the
+Galaxy_. He had no idea what the heat was out here, but it radiated off
+the hot hull of the _Glory_ in scalding, suffocating waves which swept
+right through the insulining of the spacesuit. If he didn't find the
+proper hatch, and in a matter of seconds....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Anyone else?" Ackerman Boone screamed. "Anyone else like Allister?"
+
+But one by one the remaining men were dropping from the heat.
+Finally--alone--Ackerman Boone faced the door and stared defiantly at
+the hot metal as if he could see his adversaries through it. On the
+other side, the firing became more sporadic as the officers and Secret
+Servicemen collapsed. His mind crazed with the heat and with fear,
+Ackerman Boone suddenly wished he could see the men through the door,
+wished he could see them die....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was this hatch or nothing. He thought it was the right one, but
+couldn't be sure. He could no longer see. His vision had gone
+completely. The pain was a numb thing now, far away, hardly a part of
+himself. Maybe Mayhem was absorbing the pain-sensation for him, he
+thought. Maybe Mayhem took the pain and suffered with it in the shared
+body so he, Larry, could still think. Maybe--
+
+His blistered fingers were barely able to move within the insulined
+gloves, Larry fumbled with the hatch.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ackerman Boone whirled suddenly. He had been intent upon the
+companionway door and the sounds behind him--which he had heard but not
+registered as dangerous for several seconds--now made him turn.
+
+The man was peeling off a space suit. Literally peeling it off in strips
+from his lobster-red flesh. He blinked at Boone without seeing him.
+Dazzle-blinded, Boone thought, then realized his own vision was going.
+
+"I'll kill you if you go near that subspace drive!" Boone screamed.
+
+"It's the only chance for all of us and you know it, Boone," the man
+said quietly. "Don't try to stop me."
+
+Ackerman Boone lifted his N-gun and squinted through the haze of heat
+and blinding light. He couldn't see! He couldn't see....
+
+Wildly, he fired the N-gun. Wildly, in all directions, spraying the room
+with it--
+
+Larry dropped blindly forward. Twice he tripped over unconscious men,
+but climbed to his feet and went on. He could not see Boone, but he
+could see--vaguely--the muzzle flash of Boone's N-gun. He staggered
+across the room toward that muzzle-flash and finally embraced it--
+
+And found himself fighting for his life. Boone was crazed now--with the
+heat and with his own failure. He bit and tore at Larry with strong
+claw-like fingers and lashed out with his feet. He balled his fists and
+hammered air like a windmill, arms flailing, striking flesh often enough
+to batter Larry toward the floor.
+
+Grimly Larry clung to him, pulled himself upright, ducked his head
+against his chest and struck out with his own fists, feeling nothing,
+not knowing when they landed and when they did not, hearing nothing but
+a far off roaring in his ears, a roaring which told him he was losing
+consciousness and had to act--soon--if he was going to save anyone....
+
+He stood and pounded with his fists.
+
+Pounded--air.
+
+He did not know that Boone had collapsed until his feet trod on the
+man's inert body and then, quickly, he rushed toward the control board,
+rushed blindly in its direction, or in the direction he thought it would
+be, tripped over something, sprawled on the hot, blistering floor, got
+himself up somehow, crawled forward, pulled himself upright....
+
+There was no sensation in his fingers. He did not know if he had
+actually reached the control board but abruptly he realized that he had
+not felt Mayhem's presence in his mind for several minutes. Was Mayhem
+conserving his energy for a final try, letting Larry absorb the
+punishment now so he--
+
+Yes, Larry remembered thinking vaguely. It had to be that. For Mayhem
+knew how to work the controls, and he did not. Now his mind receded into
+a fog of semi-consciousness, but he was aware that his blistered fingers
+were fairly flying across the control board, aware then of an inward
+sigh--whether of relief or triumph, he was never to know--then aware,
+abruptly and terribly, of a wrenching pain which seemed to strip his
+skin from his flesh, his flesh from his bones, the marrow from....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Can you see?" the doctor asked.
+
+"Yes," Larry said as the bandages were removed from his eyes. Three
+people were in the room with the doctor--Admiral Stapleton, the
+President--and Sheila. Somehow, Sheila was most important.
+
+"We are now in subspace, thanks to you," the Admiral said. "We all have
+minor injuries as a result of the transfer, but there were only two
+fatalities, I'm happy to say. And naturally, the ship is now out of
+danger."
+
+"What gets me, Grange," the President said, "is how you managed to work
+those controls. What the devil do you know about sub-space, my boy?"
+
+"The two fatalities," the Admiral said, "were Ackerman Boone and the man
+he had killed." Then the Admiral grinned. "Can't you see, Mr. President,
+that he's not paying any attention to us? I think, at the moment, the
+hero of the hour only has eyes for Miss Kelly here."
+
+"Begging your pardons, sirs, yes," Larry said happily.
+
+Nodding and smiling, the President of the Galactic Federation and
+Admiral Stapleton left the dispensary room--with the doctor.
+
+"Well, hero," Sheila said, and smiled.
+
+Larry realized--quite suddenly--that, inside himself, he was alone.
+Mayhem had done his job--and vanished utterly.
+
+"You know," Sheila said, "it's as if you--well, I hope this doesn't get
+you sore at me--as if you grew up overnight."
+
+Before he kissed her Larry said: "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'll tell
+you about it someday. But you'd never believe me."
+
+
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+  Transcriber's Note: A few typographical errors have been repaired.
+      cornea CHANGED TO corona (2 places)
+      The squack box blared: CHANGED TO The squawk box blared:
+      _bead_ on his elan CHANGED TO bead on his _elan_
+      liason CHANGED TO liaison (1 place)
+
+
+
+
+
+
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