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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31286-8.txt b/31286-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0f21f49 --- /dev/null +++ b/31286-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2443 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Let'em Breathe Space, by Lester del Rey + +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: Let'em Breathe Space + +Author: Lester del Rey + +Illustrator: Eberle + +Release Date: February 16, 2010 [EBook #31286] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LET'EM BREATHE SPACE *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from Space Science Fiction July 1953. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. + + + LET'EM BREATHE SPACE! + + + BY LESTER DEL REY + + + ILLUSTRATED BY EBERLE + + + Eighteen men and two women in the closed world of a space + ship for five months can only spell tension and trouble--but + in this case, the atmosphere was _literally_ poisoned. + + + [Illustration] + + * * * * * + + + + +Five months out from Earth, we were half-way to Saturn and +three-quarters of the way to murder. At least, I was. I was sick of +the feuding, the worries and the pettiness of the other nineteen +aboard. My stomach heaved at the bad food, the eternal smell of +people, and the constant sound of nagging and complaints. For ten lead +pennies, I'd have gotten out into space and tried walking back to +Earth. Sometimes I thought about doing it without the pennies. + +But I knew I wasn't that tough, in spite of what I looked. I'd been +built to play fullback, and my questionable brunet beauty had been +roughed up by the explosion years before as thoroughly as dock +fighting on all the planets could have done. But sometimes I figured +all that meant was that there was more of me to hurt, and that I'd had +more experience screaming when the anodyne ran out. + +Anyhow, whole-wheat pancakes made with sourdough for the ninth +"morning" running was too damned much! I felt my stomach heave over +again, took one whiff of the imitation maple syrup, and shoved the +mess back fast while I got up faster. + + * * * * * + +It was a mistake. Phil Riggs, our scrawny, half-pint meteorologist, +grinned nastily and reached for the plate. "'Smatter, Paul? Don't you +like your breakfast? It's good for you--whole wheat contains bran. The +staff of life. Man, after that diet of bleached paste...." + + * * * * * + +There's one guy like that in every bunch. The cook was mad at us for +griping about his coffee, so our group of scientists on this cockeyed +Saturn Expedition were getting whole wheat flour as punishment, while +Captain Muller probably sat in his cabin chuckling about it. In our +agreement, there was a clause that we could go over Muller's head on +such things with a unanimous petition--but Riggs had spiked that. The +idiot liked bran in his flour, even for pancakes! + +Or else he was putting on a good act for the fun of watching the rest +of us suffer. + +"You can take your damned whole wheat and stuff it--" I started. Then +I shrugged and dropped it. There were enough feuds going on aboard the +cranky old _Wahoo_! "Seen Jenny this morning, Phil?" + +He studied me insolently. "She told Doc Napier she had some stuff +growing in hydroponics she wanted to look at. You're wasting your time +on that babe, boy!" + +"Thanks for nothing," I muttered at him, and got out before I really +decided on murder. Jenny Sanderson was our expedition biologist. A +natural golden blonde, just chin-high on me, and cute enough to earn +her way through a Ph. D. doing modelling. She had a laugh that would +melt a brass statue and which she used too much on Doc Napier, on our +chief, and even on grumpy old Captain Muller--but sometimes she used +it on me, when she wanted something. And I never did have much use for +a girl who was the strong independent type where there was a man to do +the dirty work, so that was okay. + +I suppose it was natural, with only two women among eighteen men for +month after month, but right then I probably liked Doc Napier less +than the captain, even. I pulled myself away from the corridor to +hydroponics, started for observation, and then went on into the +cubbyhole they gave me for a cabin. On the _Wahoo_, all a man could do +was sleep or sit around and think about murder. + +Well, I had nobody to blame but myself. I'd asked for the job when I +first heard Dr. Pietro had collected funds and priorities for a trip +to study Saturn's rings at close hand. And because I'd done some +technical work for him on the Moon, he figured he might as well take +me as any other good all-around mechanic and technician. He hadn't +asked me, though--that had been my own stupid idea. + +Paul Tremaine, self-cure expert! I'd picked up a nice phobia against +space when the super-liner _Lauri Ellu_ cracked up with four hundred +passengers on my first watch as second engineer. I'd gotten free and +into a suit, but after they rescued me, it had taken two years on the +Moon before I could get up nerve for the shuttle back to Earth. And +after eight years home, I should have let well enough alone. If I'd +known anything about Pietro's expedition, I'd have wrapped myself in +my phobia and loved it. + +But I didn't know then that he'd done well with priorities and only +fair with funds. The best he could afford was the rental of the old +Earth-Mars-Venus triangle freighter. Naturally, when the _Wahoo's_ +crew heard they were slated for what would be at least three years off +Earth without fancy bonus rates, they quit. Since nobody else would +sign on, Pietro had used his priorities to get an injunction that +forced them back aboard. He'd stuffed extra oxygen, water, food and +fertilizer on top of her regular supplies, then, filled her holds with +some top level fuel he'd gotten from a government assist, and set +out. And by the time I found out about it, my own contract was +iron-bound, and I was stuck. + +As an astrophysicist, Pietro was probably tops. As a man to run the +Lunar Observatory, he was a fine executive. But as a man to head up an +expedition into deep space, somebody should have given him back his +teething ring. + +Not that the _Wahoo_ couldn't make the trip with the new fuel; she'd +been one of the early survey ships before they turned her into a +freighter. But she was meant for a crew of maybe six, on trips of a +couple of months. There were no game rooms, no lounges, no bar or +library--nothing but what had to be. The only thing left for most of +us aboard was to develop our hatreds of the petty faults of the +others. Even with a homogeneous and willing crew, it was a perfect +set-up for cabin fever, and we were as heterogeneous as they came. + +Naturally the crew hated the science boys after being impressed into +duty, and also took it out on the officers. The officers felt the same +about both other groups. And the scientists hated the officers and +crew for all the inconveniences of the old _Wahoo_. Me? I was in +no-man's land--technically in the science group, but without a pure +science degree; I had an officer's feelings left over from graduating +as an engineer on the ships; and I looked like a crewman. + +It cured my phobia, all right. After the first month out, I was too +disgusted to go into a fear funk. But I found out it didn't help a bit +to like space again and know I'd stay washed up as a spaceman. + + * * * * * + +We'd been jinxed from the start. Two months out, the whole crew of +scientists came down with something Doc Napier finally diagnosed as +food poisoning; maybe he was right, since our group ate in our own +mess hall, and the crew and officers who didn't eat with us didn't get +it. Our astronomer, Bill Sanderson, almost died. I'd been lucky, but +then I never did react to things much. There were a lot of other small +troubles, but the next major trick had been fumes from the nuclear +generators getting up into our quarters--it was always our group that +had the trouble. If Eve Nolan hadn't been puttering with some of her +trick films at the time--she and Walt Harris had the so-called night +shift--and seen them blacken, we'd have been dead before they +discovered it. And it took us two weeks of bunking with the sullen +crew and decontamination before we could pick up life again. Engineer +Wilcox had been decent about helping with it, blaming himself. But it +had been a mess. + +Naturally, there were dark hints that someone was trying to get us; +but I couldn't see any crewman wiping us out just to return to Earth, +where our contract, with its completion clause, would mean he wouldn't +have a dime coming to him. Anyhow, the way things were going, we'd all +go berserk before we reached Saturn. + +The lunch gong sounded, but I let it ring. Bullard would be serving us +whole wheat biscuits and soup made out of beans he'd let soak until +they turned sour. I couldn't take any more of that junk, the way I +felt then. I heard some of the men going down the corridor, followed +by a confused rumble of voices. Then somebody let out a yell. "Hey, +_rooob_!" + +That meant something. The old yell spacemen had picked up from carney +people to rally their kind around against the foe. And I had a good +idea of who was the foe. I heard the yell bounce down the passage +again, and the slam of answering feet. + +Then the gravity field went off. Or rather, was cut off. We may have +missed the boat in getting anti-gravity, if there is such a thing, but +our artificial gravity is darned near foolproof. + +It was ten years since I'd moved in free fall, but Space Tech had done +a good job of training good habits. I got out of my bunk, hit the +corridor with a hand out, bounced, kicked, and dove toward the mess +hall without a falter. The crewmen weren't doing so well--but they +were coming up the corridor fast enough. + +I could have wrung Muller's neck. Normally, in case of trouble, +cutting gravity is smart. But not here, where the crew already wanted +a chance to commit mayhem, and had more experience than the +scientists. + +Yet, surprisingly, when I hit the mess hall ten feet ahead of the +deckhands, most of the scientists were doing all right. Hell, I should +have known Pietro, Sanderson and a couple others would be used to +no-grav; in astronomical work, you cut your eye teeth on that. They +were braced around the cook, who huddled back in a corner, while our +purser-steward, Sam, was still singing for help. + +The fat face of the cook was dead white. Bill Sanderson, looking like +a slim, blond ballet dancer and muscled like an apache expert, had him +in one hand and was stuffing the latest batch of whole wheat biscuits +down his throat. Bill's sister, Jenny, was giggling excitedly and +holding more biscuits. + +The deckhands and Grundy, the mate, were almost at the door, and I had +just time enough to slam it shut and lock it in their faces. I meant +to enjoy seeing the cook taken down without any interruption. + +Sam let out a final yell, and Bullard broke free, making a mess of it +without weight. He was sputtering out bits of the biscuit. Hal Lomax +reached out a big hand, stained with the chemicals that had been his +life's work, and pushed the cook back. + +And suddenly fat little Bullard switched from quaking fear to a blind +rage. The last of the biscuit sailed from his mouth and he spat at +Hal. "You damned hi-faluting black devil. You--_you_ sneering at my +cooking. I'm a white man, I am--I don't have to work for no black +ni...." + + * * * * * + +I reached him first, though even Sam started for him then. You can +deliver a good blow in free-fall, if you know how. His teeth against +my knuckles stopped my leap, and the back of his head bounced off the +wall. He was unconscious as he drifted by us, moving upwards. My +knuckles stung, but it had been worth it. Anyhow, Jenny's look more +than paid for the trouble. + +The door shattered then, and the big hulk of Mate Grundy tumbled in, +with the two deckhands and the pair from the engine room behind him. +Sam let out a yell that sounded like protest, and they headed for +us--just as gravity came on. + +I pulled myself off the floor and out from under Bullard to see the +stout, oldish figure of Captain Muller standing in the doorway, with +Engineer Wilcox slouched easily beside him, looking like the typical +natty space officer you see on television. Both held gas guns. + +"All right, break it up!" Muller ordered. "You men get back to your +work. And you, Dr. Pietro--my contract calls for me to deliver you to +Saturn's moon, but it doesn't forbid me to haul you the rest of the +way in irons. I won't have this aboard my ship!" + +Pietro nodded, his little gray goatee bobbing, his lean body coming +upright smoothly. "Quite right, Captain. Nor does it forbid me to let +you and your men spend the sixteen months on the moon--where _I_ +command--in irons. Why don't you ask Sam what happened before you make +a complete fool of yourself, Captain Muller?" + +Sam gulped and looked at the crew, but apparently Pietro was right; +the little guy had been completely disgusted by Bullard. He shrugged +apologetically. "Bullard insulted Dr. Lomax, sir. I yelled for someone +to help me get him out of here, and I guess everybody got all mixed up +when gravity went off, and Bullard cracked his head on the floor. Just +a misunderstanding, sir." + +Muller stood there, glowering at the cut on my knuckles, and I could +feel him aching for a good excuse to make his threat a reality. But +finally, he grunted and swung on his heel, ordering the crew with him. +Grundy threw us a final grimace and skulked off behind him. Finally +there was only Wilcox, who grinned, shrugged, and shut the door +quietly behind him. And we were left with the mess free-fall had made +of the place. + +I spotted Jenny heading across the room, carefully not seeing the +fatuous glances Pietro was throwing her way, and I swung in behind. +She nodded back at me, but headed straight for Lomax, with an odd look +on her face. When she reached him, her voice was low and businesslike. + +"Hal, what did those samples of Hendrix's show up?" + +Hendrix was the Farmer, in charge of the hydroponics that turned the +carbon dioxide we breathed out back to oxygen, and also gave us a bit +of fresh vegetables now and then. Technically, he was a crewman, just +as I was a scientist; but actually, he felt more like one of us. + +Lomax looked surprised. "What samples, Jenny? I haven't seen Hendrix +for two weeks." + +"You--" She stopped, bit her lip, and frowned. She swung on me. "Paul, +have you seen him?" + +I shook my head. "Not since last night. He was asking Eve and Walt to +wake him up early, then." + +"That's funny. He was worried about the plants yesterday and wanted +Hal to test the water and chemical fertilizer. I looked for him this +morning, but when he didn't show up, I thought he was with you, Hal. +And--the plants are dying!" + +"All of them?" The half smile wiped off Hal's face, and I could feel +my stomach hit my insteps. When anything happens to the plants in a +ship, it isn't funny. + +She shook her head again. "No--about a quarter of them. I was coming +for help when the fight started. They're all bleached out. And it +looks like--like chromazone!" + +That really hit me. They developed the stuff to fight off fungus on +Venus, where one part in a billion did the trick. But it was tricky +stuff; one part in ten-million would destroy the chlorophyll in +plants in about twenty hours, or the hemoglobin in blood in about +fifteen minutes. It was practically a universal poison. + +Hal started for the door, then stopped. He glanced around the room, +turned back to me, and suddenly let out a healthy bellow of seeming +amusement. Jenny's laugh was right in harmony. I caught the drift, and +tried to look as if we were up to some monkey business as we slipped +out of the room. Nobody seemed suspicious. + +Then we made a dash for hydroponics, toward the rear of the ship. We +scrambled into the big chamber together, and stopped. Everything +looked normal among the rows of plant-filled tanks, pipes and +equipment. Jenny led us down one of the rows and around a bend. + +The plants in the rear quarter weren't sick--they were dead. They were +bleached to a pale yellow, like boiled grass, and limp. Nothing would +save them now. + +"I'm a biologist, not a botanist--" Jenny began. + +Hal grunted sickly. "Yeah. And I'm not a life hormone expert. But +there's one test we can try." + +He picked up a pair of rubber gloves from a rack, and pulled off some +wilted stalks. From one of the healthy tanks, he took green leaves. He +mashed the two kinds together on the edge of a bench and watched. "If +it's chromazone, they've developed an enzyme by now that should eat +the color out of those others." + + * * * * * + +In about ten seconds, I noticed the change. The green began to bleach +before my eyes. + +Jenny made a sick sound in her throat and stared at the rows of +healthy plants. "I checked the valves, and this sick section is +isolated. But--if chromazone got into the chemicals.... Better get your +spectroanalyzer out, Hal, while I get Captain Muller. Paul, be a dear +and find Hendrix, will you?" + +I shook my head, and went further down the rows. "No need, Jenny," I +called back. I pointed to the shoe I'd seen sticking out from the edge +of one of the tanks. There was a leg attached. + +I reached for it, but Lomax shoved me back. "Don't--the enzymes in the +corpse are worse than the poison, Paul. Hands off." He reached down +with the gloves and heaved. It was Hendrix, all right--a corpse with a +face and hands as white as human flesh could ever get. Even the lips +were bleached out. + +Jenny moaned. "The fool! The stupid fool. He _knew_ it was dangerous +without gloves; he suspected chromazone, even though none's supposed +to be on board. And I warned him . . ." + +"Not against this, you didn't," I told her. I dropped to my knees and +took another pair of gloves. Hendrix's head rolled under my grasp. The +skull was smashed over the left eye, as if someone had taken a +sideswipe at Hendrix with a hammer. No fall had produced that. "You +should have warned him about his friends. Must have been killed, then +dumped in there." + +"Murder!" Hal bit the word out in disgust. "You're right, Paul. Not +too stupid a way to dispose of the body, either--in another couple of +hours, he'd have started dissolving in that stuff, and we'd never have +guessed it was murder. That means this poisoning of the plants wasn't +an accident. Somebody poisoned the water, then got worried when there +wasn't a report on the plants; must have been someone who thought it +worked faster on plants than it does. So he came to investigate, and +Hendrix caught him fooling around. So he got killed." + +"But who?" Jenny asked. + +I shrugged sickly. "Somebody crazy enough--or desperate enough to turn +back that he'll risk our air and commit murder. You'd better go after +the captain while Hal gets his test equipment. I'll keep watch here." + +It didn't feel good in hydroponics after they left. I looked at those +dead plants, trying to figure whether there were enough left to keep +us going. I studied Hendrix's body, trying to tell myself the murderer +had no reason to come back and try to get me. + +I reached for a cigarette, and then put the pack back. The air felt +almost as close as the back of my neck felt tense and unprotected. And +telling myself it was all imagination didn't help--not with what was +in that chamber to keep me company. + + +II + +Muller's face was like an iceberg when he came down--but only after he +saw Hendrix. Before then I'd caught the fat moon-calf expression on +his face, and I'd heard Jenny giggling. Damn it, they'd taken enough +time. Hal was already back, fussing over things with the hunk of tin +and lenses he treated like a newborn baby. + +Doc Napier came in behind them, but separately. I saw him glance at +them and look sick. Then both Muller and Napier began concentrating on +business. Napier bent his nervous, bony figure over the corpse, and +stood up almost at once. "Murder all right." + +"So I guessed, Dr. Napier," Muller growled heavily at him. "Wrap him +up and put him between hulls to freeze. We'll bury him when we land. +Tremaine, give a hand with it, will you?" + +"I'm not a laborer, Captain Muller!" Napier protested. I started to +tell him where he could get off, too. + +But Jenny shook her head at us. "Please. Can't you see Captain Muller +is trying to keep too many from knowing about this? I should think +you'd be glad to help. Please?" + +Put that way, I guess it made sense. We found some rubber sheeting in +one of the lockers, and began wrapping Hendrix in it; it wasn't +pleasant, since he was beginning to soften up from the enzymes he'd +absorbed. "How about going ahead to make sure no one sees us?" I +suggested to Jenny. + +Muller opened his mouth, but Jenny gave one of her quick little laughs +and opened the door for us. Doc looked relieved. I guessed he was +trying to kid himself. Personally, I wasn't a fool--I was just hooked; +I knew perfectly well she was busy playing us off against one another, +and probably having a good time balancing the books. But hell, that's +the way life runs. + +"Get Pietro up here!" Muller fired after us. She laughed again, and +nodded. She went with us until we got to the 'tween-hulls lock, then +went off after the chief. She was back with him just as we finished +stuffing Hendrix through and sealing up again. + +Muller grunted at us when we got back, then turned to Lomax again. The +big chemist didn't look happy. He spread his hands toward us, and +hunched his shoulders. "A fifty-times over-dose of chromazone in those +tanks--fortunately none in the others. And I can't find a trace of it +in the fertilizer chemicals or anywhere else. Somebody deliberately +put it into those tanks." + +"Why?" Pietro asked. We'd filled him in with the rough details, but it +still made no sense to him. + +"Suppose you tell me, Dr. Pietro," Muller suggested. "Chromazone is a +poison most people never heard of. One of the new _scientific_ +nuisances." + +Pietro straightened, and his goatee bristled. "If you're hinting . . ." + +"I am _not_ hinting, Dr. Pietro. I'm telling you that I'm confining +your group to their quarters until we can clean up this mess, distil +the water that's contaminated, and replant. After that, if an +investigation shows nothing, I _may_ take your personal bond for the +conduct of your people. Right now I'm protecting my ship." + +"But captain--" Jenny began. + +Muller managed a smile at her. "Oh, not you, of course, Jenny. I'll +need you here. With Hendrix gone, you're the closest thing we have to +a Farmer now." + + * * * * * + +"Captain Muller," Pietro said sharply. "Captain, in the words of the +historical novelists--drop dead! Dr. Sanderson, I forbid you to leave +your quarters so long as anyone else is confined to his. I have ample +authority for that." + +"Under emergency powers--" Muller spluttered over it, and Pietro +jumped in again before he could finish. + +"Precisely, Captain. Under emergency situations, when passengers +aboard a commercial vessel find indications of total irresponsibility +or incipient insanity on the part of a ship's officer, they are +considered correct in assuming command for the time needed to protect +their lives. We were poisoned by food prepared in your kitchen, and +were nearly killed by radioactivity through a leak in the +engine-room--and no investigation was made. We are now confronted with +another situation aimed against our welfare--as the others were wholly +aimed at us--and you choose to conduct an investigation against our +group only. My only conclusion is that you wish to confine us to +quarters so we cannot find your motives for this last outrage. Paul, +will you kindly relieve the captain of his position?" + +They were both half right, and mostly wrong. Until it was proved that +our group was guilty, Muller couldn't issue an order that was +obviously discriminatory and against our personal safety in case there +was an attack directed on us. He'd be mustered out of space and into +the Lunar Cells for that. But on the other hand, the "safety for +passengers" clause Pietro was citing applied only in the case of +overt, direct and physical danger by an officer to normal passengers. +He might be able to weasel it through a court, or he might be found +guilty of mutiny. It left me in a pretty position. + +Jenny fluttered around. "Now, now--" she began. + +I cut her off. "Shut up, Jenny. And you two damned fools cool down. +Damn it, we've got an emergency here all right--we may not have air +plants enough to live on. Pietro, we can't run the ship--and neither +can Muller get through what's obviously a mess that may call for all +our help by confining us. Why don't you two go off and fight it out in +person?" + +[Illustration] + +Surprisingly, Pietro laughed. "I'm afraid I'd put up a poor showing +against the captain, Paul. My apologies, Captain Muller." + +Muller hesitated, but finally took Pietro's hand, and dropped the +issue. + +"We've got enough plants," he said, changing the subject. "We'll have +to cut out all smoking and other waste of air. And I'll need Jenny to +work the hydroponics, with any help she requires. We've got to get +more seeds planted, and fast. Better keep word of this to ourselves. +We--" + +A shriek came from Jenny then. She'd been busy at one of the lockers +in the chamber. Now she began ripping others open and pawing through +things inside rubber-gloves. "Captain Muller! The seeds! The seeds!" + +Hal took one look, and his face turned gray. + + * * * * * + +"Chromazone," he reported. "Every bag of seed has been filled with a +solution of chromazone! They're worthless!" + +"How long before the plants here will seed?" Muller asked sharply. + +"Three months," Jenny answered. "Captain Muller, what are we going to +do?" + +The dour face settled into grim determination. "The only sensible +thing. Take care of these plants, conserve the air, and squeeze by +until we can reseed. And, Dr. Pietro, with your permission, we'll turn +about for Earth at once. We can't go on like this. To proceed would be +to endanger the life of every man aboard." + +"Please, Danton." Jenny put her hand on Pietro's arm. "I know what +this all means to you, but--" + +Pietro shook her off. "It means the captain's trying to get out of the +expedition, again. It's five months back to Earth--more, by the time +we kill velocity. It's the same to Saturn. And either way, in five +months we've got this fixed up, or we're helpless. Permission to +return refused, Captain Muller." + +"Then if you'll be so good as to return to your own quarters," Muller +said, holding himself back with an effort that turned his face red, +"we'll start clearing this up. And not a word of this." + +Napier, Lomax, Pietro and I went back to the scientists' quarters, +leaving Muller and Jenny conferring busily. That was at fifteen +o'clock. At sixteen o'clock, Pietro issued orders against smoking. + +Dinner was at eighteen o'clock. We sat down in silence. I reached for +my plate without looking. And suddenly little Phil Riggs was on his +feet, raving. "Whole wheat! Nothing but whole wheat bread! I'm sick of +it--sick! I won't--" + +"Sit down!" I told him. I'd bitten into one of the rolls on the table. +It was white bread, and it was the best the cook had managed so far. +There was corn instead of baked beans, and he'd done a fair job of +making meat loaf. "Stop making a fool of yourself, Phil." + +He slumped back, staring at the white bun into which he'd bitten. +"Sorry. Sorry. It's this air--so stuffy. I can't breathe. I can't see +right--" + +Pietro and I exchanged glances, but I guess we weren't surprised. +Among intelligent people on a ship of that size, secrets wouldn't +keep. They'd all put bits together and got part of the answer. Pietro +shrugged, and half stood up to make an announcement. + + * * * * * + +"Beg pardon, sirs." We jerked our heads around to see Bullard standing +in the doorway. + +He was scared stiff, and his words got stuck in his throat. Then he +found his voice again. "I heard as how Hendrix went crazy and poisoned +the plants and went and killed himself and we'll all die if we don't +find some trick, and what I want to know, please, sirs, is are what +they're saying right and you know all kinds of tricks and can you save +us because I can't go on like this not knowing and hearing them +talking outside the galley and none of them telling me--" + +Lomax cut into his flood of words. "You'll live, Bullard. Farmer +Hendrix did get killed in an accident to some of the plants, but we've +still got air enough. Captain Muller has asked the help of a few of +us, but it's only a temporary emergency." + +Bullard stared at him, and slowly some of the fear left his +face--though not all of it. He turned and left with a curt bow of his +head, while Pietro added a few details that weren't exactly lies to +Lomax's hasty cover-up, along with a grateful glance at the chemist. +It seemed to work, for the time being--at least enough for Riggs to +begin making nasty remarks about cooked paste. + +Then the tension began to build again. I don't think any of the crew +talked to any of our group. And yet, there seemed to be a chain of +rumor that exchanged bits of information. Only the crew could have +seen the dead plants being carried down to our refuse breakdown plant; +and the fact it was chromazone poisoning must have been deduced from a +description by some of our group. At any rate, both groups knew all +about it--and a little bit more, as was usual with rumors--by the +second day. + +Muller should have made the news official, but he only issued an +announcement that the danger was over. When Peters, our +radioman-navigator, found Sam and Phil Riggs smoking and dressed them +down, it didn't make Muller's words seem too convincing. I guessed +that Muller had other things on his mind; at least he wasn't in his +cabin much, and I didn't see Jenny for two whole days. + +My nerves were as jumpy as those of the rest. It isn't too bad cutting +out smoking; a man can stand imagining the air is getting stale; but +when every unconscious gesture toward cigarettes that aren't there +reminds him of the air, and when every imagined stale stench makes him +want a cigarette to relax, it gets a little rough. + +Maybe that's why I was in a completely rotten mood when I finally did +spot Jenny going down the passage, with the tight coveralls she was +wearing emphasizing every motion of her hips. I grabbed her and swung +her around. "Hi, stranger. Got time for a word?" + +She sort of brushed my hand off her arm, but didn't seem to mind it. +"Why, I guess so, Paul. A little time. Captain Muller's watching the +'ponics." + +"Good," I said, trying to forget Muller. "Let's make it a little more +private than this, though. Come on in." + +She lifted an eyebrow at the open door of my cabin, made with a little +giggle, and stepped inside. I followed her, and kicked the door shut. +She reached for it, but I had my back against it. + +"Paul!" She tried to get around me, but I wasn't having any. I pushed +her back onto the only seat in the room, which was the bunk. She got +up like a spring uncoiling. "Paul Tremaine, you open that door. You +know better than that. Paul, please!" + +"What makes me any different than the others? You spend plenty of time +in Muller's cabin--and you've been in Pietro's often enough. Probably +Doc Napier's, too!" + +Her eyes hardened, but she decided to try the patient and +reason-with-the-child line. "That is different. Captain Muller and I +have a great deal of business to work out." + +"Sure. And he looks great in lipstick!" + +It was a shot in the dark, but it went home. I wished I'd kept my +darned mouth shut; before I'd been suspecting it--now I knew. She +turned pink and tried to slap me, which won't work when the girl is +sitting on a bunk and I'm on my feet. "You mind your own business!" + +"I'm doing that. Generations should stick together, and he's old +enough to be your father!" + +She leaned back and studied me. Then she smiled slowly, and something +about it made me sick inside. "I like older men, Paul. They make +people my own age seem so callow, so unfinished. It's so comforting to +have mature people around. I always did have an Electra complex." + +"The Greeks had plenty of names for it, kid," I told her. "Don't get +me wrong. If you want to be a slut, that's your own business. But when +you pull the innocent act on me, and then fall back to sophomore +psychology--" + +This time she stood up before she slapped. Before her hand stung my +face, I was beginning to regret what I'd said. Afterwards, I didn't +give a damn. I picked her up off the floor, slapped her soundly on the +rump, pulled her tight against me, and kissed her. She tried +scratching my face, then went passive, and wound up with one arm +around my neck and the other in the hair at the back of my head. When +I finally put her down she sank back onto the bunk, breathing heavily. + +"Why, Paul!" And she reached out her arms as I came down to meet them. +For a second, the world looked pretty good. + +Then a man's hoarse scream cut through it all, with the sound of heavy +steps in panic flight. I jerked up. Jenny hung on. "Paul.... Paul...." +But there was the smell of death in the air, suddenly. I broke free +and was out into the corridor. The noise seemed to come from the shaft +that led to the engine room, and I jumped for it, while I heard doors +slam. + +This time, there was a commotion, like a wet sack being tossed around +in a pentagonal steel barrel, and another hoarse scream that cut off +in the middle to a gargling sound. + + * * * * * + +I reached the shaft and started down the center rail, not bothering +with the hand-grips. I could hear something rustle below, followed by +silence, but I couldn't see a thing; the lights had been cut. + +I could feel things poking into my back before I landed; I always get +the creeps when there's death around, and that last sound had been +just that--somebody's last sound. I _knew_ somebody was going to kill +me before I could find the switch. Then I stumbled over something, and +my hair stood on end. I guess my own yell was pretty horrible. It +scared me worse than I was already. But my fingers found the switch +somehow, and the light flashed on. + +Sam lay on the floor, with blood still running from a wide gash +across his throat. A big kitchen knife was still stuck in one end of +the horrible wound. And one of his fingers was half sliced off where +the blade of a switch-blade shiv had failed on him and snapped back. + +Something sounded above me, and I jerked back. But it was Captain +Muller, coming down the rail. The man had obviously taken it all in on +the way down. He jerked the switch-blade out of Sam's dead grasp and +looked at the point of the knife. There was blood further back from +the cut finger, but none on the point. + +"Damn!" Muller tossed it down in disgust. "If he'd scratched the other +man, we'd have had a chance to find who it was. Tremaine, have you got +an alibi?" + +"I was with Jenny," I told him, and watched his eyes begin to hate me. +But he nodded. We picked Sam up together and lugged his body up to the +top of the shaft, where the crowd had collected. Pietro, Peters, the +cook, Grundy and Lomax were there. Beyond them, the dark-haired, +almost masculine head of Eve Nolan showed, her eyes studying the body +of Sam as if it were a negative in her darkroom; as usual, Bill +Sanderson was as close to her as he could get. But there was no sign +now of Jenny. I glanced up the corridor but saw only Wilcox and Phil +Riggs, with Walt Harris trailing them, rubbing the sleep out of his +eyes. + +Muller moved directly to Pietro. "Six left in my crew now, Dr. Pietro. +First Hendrix, now Sam. Can you still say that the attack is on _your_ +crew--when mine keep being killed? This time, sir, I demand . . ." + +"Give 'em hell, Captain," ape-man Grundy broke in. "Cut the fancy +stuff, and let's get the damned murdering rats!" + +Muller's eyes quartered him, spitted his carcass, and began turning +him slowly over a bed of coals. "Mister Grundy, I am master of the +_Wahoo_. I fail to remember asking for your piratical advice. Dr. +Pietro, I trust you will have no objections if I ask Mr. Peters to +investigate your section and group thoroughly?" + +"None at all, Captain Muller," Pietro answered. "I trust Peters. And I +feel sure you'll permit me to delegate Mr. Tremaine to inspect the +remainder of the ship?" + +Muller nodded curtly. "Certainly. Until the madman is found, we're all +in danger. And unless he is found, I insist I must protect my crew and +my ship by turning back to Earth." + +"I cannot permit that, sir!" + +"Your permission for that was not requested, Dr. Pietro! Yes, +Bullard?" + +The cook had been squirming and muttering to himself for minutes. Now +he darted out toward Grundy, and his finger pointed to Lomax. "He done +it! I seen him. Killed the only friend I had, he did. They went by my +galley--and--and he grabbed my big knife, that one there. And he +killed Sam." + + * * * * * + +"You're sure it was Lomax?" Muller asked sharply. + +"Sure I'm sure. Sam, he was acting queer lately. He was worried. Told +me he saw something, and he was going to know for sure. He borrowed my +switch-blade knife that my wife gave me. And he went out looking for +something. Then I heard him a-running, and I looked up, and there was +this guy, chasing him. Sure, I seen him with my own eyes." + +Eve Nolan chuckled throatily, throwing her mannish-cut hair back from +her face. She was almost pretty with an expression on her countenance, +even if it was amused disgust. "Captain Muller, that's a nice story. +But Dr. Lomax was with me in my darkroom, working on some +spectroanalysis slides. Bill Sanderson and Phil Riggs were waiting +outside for us. And Mr. Peters saw us come out together when we all +ran down here." + +Peters nodded. Muller stared at us for a second, and the hunting lust +died out of his eyes, leaving them blank and cold. He turned to +Bullard. "Bullard, an explanation might make me reduce your +punishment. If you have anything to say, say it now!" + +The cook was gibbering and actually drooling with fear. He shook, and +sweat popped out all over him. "My knife--I hadda say something. They +stole my knife. They wanted it to look like I done it. God, Captain, +you'da done the same. Can't punish a man for trying to save his life. +I'm a good man, I am. Can't whip a good man! Can't--" + +"Give him twenty-five lashes with the wire, Mr. Grundy," Muller said +flatly. + +Pietro let out a shriek on top of the cook's. He started forward, but +I caught him. "Captain Muller's right," I told him. "On a spaceship, +the full crew is needed. The brig is useless, so the space-enabling +charter recognizes flogging. Something is needed to maintain +discipline." + +Pietro dropped back reluctantly, but Lomax faced the captain. "The man +is a coward, hardly responsible, Captain Muller. I'm the wounded +party in this case, but it seems to me that hysteria isn't the same +thing as maliciousness. Suppose I ask for clemency?" + +"Thank you, Dr. Lomax," Muller said, and actually looked relieved. +"Make it ten lashes, Mr. Grundy. Apparently no real harm has been +done, and he will not testify in the future." + +Grundy began dragging Bullard out, muttering about damn fool +groundlubbers always sticking their noses in. The cook caught at +Lomax's hand on the way, literally slobbering over it. Lomax rubbed +his palm across his thigh, looking embarrassed. + +Muller turned back to us. "Very well. Mr. Peters will begin +investigating the expedition staff and quarters; Mr. Tremaine will +have free run over the rest of the ship. And if the murderer is not +turned up in forty-eight hours, we head back to Earth!" + +Pietro started to protest again, but another scream ripped down the +corridor, jerking us all around. It was Jenny, running toward us. She +was breathing hoarsely as she nearly crashed into Dr. Pietro. + +Her face was white and sick, and she had to try twice before she could +speak. + +"The plants!" she gasped out. "Poison! They're dying!" + + +III + +It was chromazone again. Muller had kept most of the gang from coming +back to hydroponics, but he, Jenny, Pietro, Wilcox and myself were +enough to fill the room with the smell of sick fear. Now less than +half of the original space was filled with healthy plants. Some of the +tanks held plants already dead, and others were dying as we watched; +once beyond a certain stage, the stuff acted almost instantly--for +hours there was only a slight indication of something wrong, and then +suddenly there were the dead, bleached plants. + +Wilcox was the first to speak. He still looked like some nattily +dressed hero of a space serial, but his first words were ones that +could never have gone out on a public broadcast. Then he shrugged. +"They must have been poisoned while we were all huddled over Sam's +body. Who wasn't with us?" + +"Nonsense," Pietro denied. "This was done at least eighteen hours ago, +maybe more. We'd have to find who was around then." + +"Twenty hours, or as little as twelve," Jenny amended. "It depends on +the amount of the dosage, to some extent. And...." She almost managed +to blush. "Well, there have been a lot of people around. I can't even +remember. Mr. Grundy and one of the men, Mr. Wilcox, Dr. Napier--oh, I +don't know!" + +Muller shook his head in heavy agreement. "Naturally. We had a lot of +work to do here. After word got around about Hendrix, we didn't try to +conceal much. It might have happened when someone else was watching, +too. The important thing, gentlemen, is that now we don't have reserve +enough to carry us to Saturn. The plants remaining can't handle the +air for all of us. And while we ship some reserve oxygen...." + +He let it die in a distasteful shrug. "At least this settles one +thing. We have no choice now but to return to Earth!" + +"Captain Muller," Pietro bristled quickly, "that's getting to be a +monomania with you. I agree we are in grave danger. I don't relish the +prospect of dying any more than you do--perhaps less, in view of +certain peculiarities! But it's now further back to Earth than it is +to Saturn. And before we can reach either, we'll have new plants--or +we'll be dead!" + +"Some of us will be dead, Dr. Pietro," Wilcox amended it. "There are +enough plants left to keep some of us breathing indefinitely." + +Pietro nodded. "And I suppose, in our captain's mind, that means the +personnel of the ship can survive. Captain Muller, I must regard your +constant attempt to return to Earth as highly suspicious in view of +this recurrent sabotage of the expedition. Someone here is apparently +either a complete madman or so determined to get back that he'll +resort to anything to accomplish his end. And you have been harping on +returning over and over again!" + +Muller bristled, and big heavy fist tightened. Then he drew himself up +to his full dumpy height. "Dr. Pietro," he said stiffly, "I am as +responsible to my duties as any man here--and my duties involve +protecting the life of every man and woman on board; if you wish to +return, I shall be _most_ happy to submit this to a formal board of +inquiry. I--" + +"Just a minute," I told them. "You two are forgetting that we've got a +problem here. Damn it, I'm sick of this fighting among ourselves. +We're a bunch of men in a jam, not two camps at war now. I can't see +any reason why Captain Muller would want to return that badly." + +Muller nodded slightly. "Thank you, Mr. Tremaine. However, for the +record, and to save you trouble investigating there is a good reason. +My company is now building a super-liner; if I were to return within +the next six months, they'd promote me to captain of that ship--a +considerable promotion, too." + +For a moment, his honesty seemed to soften Pietro. The scientist +mumbled some sort of apology, and turned to the plants. But it +bothered me; if Muller had pulled something, the smartest thing he +could have done would be to have said just what he did. + +Besides, knowing that Pietro's injunction had robbed him of a chance +like that was enough to rankle in any man's guts and make him work up +something pretty close to insanity. I marked it down in my mental +files for the investigation I was supposed to make, but let it go for +the moment. + +Muller stood for a minute longer, thinking darkly about the whole +situation. Then he moved toward the entrance to hydroponics and pulled +out the ship speaker mike. "All hands and passengers will assemble in +hydroponics within five minutes," he announced. He swung toward +Pietro. "With your permission, Doctor," he said caustically. + +The company assembled later looked as sick as the plants. This time, +Muller was hiding nothing. He outlined the situation fully; maybe he +shaded it a bit to throw suspicion on our group, but in no way we +could pin down. Finally he stated flatly that the situation meant +almost certain death for at least some of those aboard. + +"From now on, there'll be a watch kept. This is closed to everyone +except myself, Dr. Pietro, Mr. Peters, and Dr. Jenny Sanderson. At +least one of us will be here at all times, equipped with gas guns. +Anyone else is to be killed on setting foot inside this door!" He +swung his eyes over the group. "Any objections?" + + * * * * * + +Grundy stirred uncomfortably. "I don't go for them science guys up here. +Takes a crazy man to do a thing like this, and everybody knows...." + +Eve Nolan laughed roughly. "Everybody knows you've been swearing you +won't go the whole way, Grundy. These jungle tactics should be right +up your alley." + +"That's enough," Muller cut through the beginnings of the hassle. "I +trust those I appointed--at least more than I do the rest of you. The +question now is whether to return to Earth at once or to go on to +Saturn. We can't radio for help for months yet. We're not equipped +with sharp beams, we're low powered, and we're off the lanes where +Earth's pick-ups hunt. Dr. Pietro wants to go on, since we can't get +back within our period of safety; I favor returning, since there is no +proof that this danger will end with this outrage. We've agreed to let +the result of a vote determine it." + +Wilcox stuck up a casual hand, and Muller nodded to him. He grinned +amiably at all of us. "There's a third possibility, Captain. We can +reach Jupiter in about three months, if we turn now. It's offside, but +closer than anything else. From there, on a fast liner, we can be back +on Earth in another ten days." + +Muller calculated, while Peters came up to discuss it. Then he nodded. +"Saturn or Jupiter, then. I'm not voting, of course. Bullard is +disqualified to vote by previous acts." He drew a low moan from the +sick figure of Bullard for that, but no protest. Then he nodded. "All +those in favor of Jupiter, your right hands please!" + +I counted them, wondering why my own hand was still down. It made some +sort of sense to turn aside now. But none of our group was voting--and +all the others had their hands up, except for Dr. Napier. "Seven," +Muller announced. "Those in favor of Saturn." + +Again, Napier didn't vote. I hesitated, then put my hand up. It was +crazy, and Pietro was a fool to insist. But I knew that he'd never get +another chance if this failed, and.... + +"Eight," Muller counted. He sighed, then straightened. "Very well, we +go on. Dr. Pietro, you will have my full support from now on. In +return, I'll expect every bit of help in meeting this emergency. Mr. +Tremaine was correct; we cannot remain camps at war." + +Pietro's goatee bobbed quickly, and his hand went out. But while most +of the scientists were nodding with him, I caught the dark scowl of +Grundy, and heard the mutters from the deckhands and the engine men. +If Muller could get them to cooperate, he was a genius. + +Pietro faced us, and his face was serious again. "We can hasten the +seeding of the plants a little, I think, by temperature and +light-and-dark cycle manipulations. Unfortunately, these aren't +sea-algae plants, or we'd be in comparatively little trouble. That was +my fault in not converting. We can, however, step up their efficiency +a bit. And I'm sure we can find some way to remove the carbon dioxide +from the air." + +"How about oxygen to breathe?" Peters asked. + +"That's the problem," Pietro admitted. "I was wondering about +electrolyzing water." + +Wilcox bobbed up quickly. "Can you do it on AC current?" + +Lomax shook his head. "It takes DC." + +"Then that's out. We run on 220 AC. And while I can rectify a few +watts, it wouldn't be enough to help. No welders except monatomic +hydrogen torches, even." + +Pietro looked sicker than before. He'd obviously been counting on +that. But he turned to Bullard. "How about seeds? We had a crop of +tomatoes a month ago--and from the few I had, they're all seed. Are +any left?" + +Bullard rocked from side to side, moaning. "Dead. We're all gonna be +dead. I told him, I did, you take me out there, I'll never get back. +I'm a good man, I am. I wasn't never meant to die way out here. +I--I--" + +He gulped and suddenly screamed. He went through the door at an +awkward shuffle, heading for his galley. Muller shook his head, and +turned toward me. "Check up, will you, Mr. Tremaine? And I suggest +that you and Mr. Peters start your investigation at once. I understand +that chromazone would require so little hiding space that there's no +use searching for it. But if you can find any evidence, report it at +once." + +Peters and I left. I found the galley empty. Apparently Bullard had +gone to lie on his stomach in his bunk and nurse his terror. I found +the freezer compartments, though--and the tomatoes. There must have +been a bushel of them, but Bullard had followed his own peculiar +tastes. From the food he served, he couldn't stand fresh vegetables; +and he'd cooked the tomatoes down thoroughly and run them through the +dehydrator before packing them away! + + * * * * * + +It was a cheerful supper, that one! Bullard had half-recovered and his +fear was driving him to try to be nice to us. The selection was good, +beyond the inevitable baked beans; but he wasn't exactly a chef at +best, and his best was far behind him. Muller had brought Wilcox, +Napier and Peters down to our mess with himself, to consolidate +forces, and it seemed that he was serious about cooperating. But it +was a little late for that. + +Overhead, the fans had been stepped up to counteract the effect of +staleness our minds supplied. But the whine of the motors kept +reminding us our days were counted. Only Jenny was normal; she sat +between Muller and Pietro, where she could watch my face and that of +Napier. And even her giggles had a forced sound. + +There were all kinds of things we could do--in theory. But we didn't +have that kind of equipment. The plain fact was that the plants were +going to lose the battle against our lungs. The carbon dioxide would +increase, speeding up our breathing, and making us all seem to +suffocate. The oxygen would grow thinner and thinner, once our +supplies of bottled gas ran out. And eventually, the air wouldn't +support life. + +"It's sticky and hot," Jenny complained, suddenly. + +"I stepped up the humidity and temperature controls," I told her. She +nodded in quick comprehension, but I went on for Muller's benefit. +"Trying to give the plants the best growing atmosphere. We'll feel +just as hot and sticky when the carbon dioxide goes up, anyhow." + +"It must already be up," Wilcox said. "My two canaries are breathing +faster." + +"Canaries," Muller said. He frowned, though he must have known of +them. It was traditional to keep them in the engine-room, though the +reason behind it had long since been lost. "Better kill them, Mr. +Wilcox." + +Wilcox jerked, and his face paled a bit. Then he nodded. "Yes, sir!" + +That was when I got scared. The idea that two birds breathing could +hurt our chances put things on a little too vivid a basis. Only Lomax +seemed unaffected. He shoved back now, and stood up. + +"Some tests I have to make, Captain. I have an idea that might turn up +the killer among us!" + +I had an idea he was bluffing, but I kept my mouth shut. A bluff was +as good as anything else, it seemed. + +At least, it was better than anything I seemed able to do. I prowled +over the ship, sometimes meeting Peters doing the same, but I couldn't +find a bit of evidence. The crewmen sat watching with hating eyes. And +probably the rest aboard hated and feared us just as much. It wasn't +hard to imagine the man who was behind it all deciding to wipe one of +us out. My neck got a permanent crimp from keeping one eye behind me. +But there wasn't a shred of evidence I could find. + +In two more days, we began to notice the stuffiness more. My breathing +went up enough to notice. Somehow, I couldn't get a full breath. And +the third night, I woke up in the middle of my sleep with the feeling +something was sitting on my chest; but since I'd taken to sleeping +with the light on, I saw that it was just the stuffiness that was +bothering me. Maybe most of it had been psychological up until then. +But that was the real thing. + +The nice part of it was that it wouldn't be sudden--we'd have days to +get closer and closer to death; and days for each one to realize a +little more that every man who wasn't breathing would make it that +much easier for the rest of us. I caught myself thinking of it when I +saw Bullard or Grundy. + + * * * * * + +Then trouble struck again. I was late getting to the scene this time, +down by the engine room. Muller and Bill Sanderson were ahead of me, +trying to separate Hal Lomax and Grundy, and not doing so well. Lomax +brought up a haymaker as I arrived, and started to shout something. +But Grundy was out of Muller's grasp, and up, swinging a wrench. It +connected with a dull thud, and Lomax hit the floor, unconscious. + +I picked Grundy up by the collar of his jacket, heaved him around and +against a wall, where I could get my hand against his esophagus and +start squeezing. His eyeballs popped, and the wrench dropped from his +hands. When I get mad enough to act that way, I usually know I'll +regret it later. This time it felt good, all the way. But Muller +pushed me aside, waiting until Grundy could breathe again. + +"All right," Muller said. "I hope you've got a good explanation, +before I decide what to do with you." + +Grundy's eyes were slitted, as if he'd been taking some of the Venus +drugs. But after one long, hungry look at me, he faced the captain. +"Yes, sir. This guy came down here ahead of me. Didn't think nothing +of it, sir. But when he started fiddling with the panel there, I got +suspicious." He pointed to the external control panel for the engine +room, to be used in case of accidents. "With all that's been going on, +how'd I know but maybe he was gonna dump the fuel? And then I seen he +had keys. I didn't wait, sir. I jumped him. And then you come up." + +Wilcox came from the background and dropped beside the still figure of +Lomax. He opened the man's left hand and pulled out a bunch of keys, +examining them. "Engine keys, Captain Muller. Hey--it's my set! He +must have lifted them from my pocket. It looks as if Grundy's found +our killer!" + +"Or Lomax found him!" I pointed out. "Anybody else see this start, or +know that Lomax didn't get those keys away from Grundy, when _he_ +started trouble?" + +"Why, you--" Grundy began, but Wilcox cut off his run. It was a shame. +I still felt like pushing the man's Adam's apple through his medulla +oblongata. + +"Lock them both up, until Dr. Lomax comes to," Muller ordered. "And +send Dr. Napier to take care of him. I'm not jumping to any +conclusions." But the look he was giving Lomax indicated that he'd +already pretty well made up his mind. And the crew was positive. They +drew back sullenly, staring at us like animals studying a human +hunter, and they didn't like it when Peters took Grundy to lock him +into his room. Muller finally chased them out, and left Wilcox and me +alone. + +Wilcox shrugged wryly, brushing dirt off his too-clean uniform. "While +you're here, Tremaine, why not look my section over? You've been +neglecting me." + +I'd borrowed Muller's keys and inspected the engine room from, top to +bottom the night before, but I didn't mention that. I hesitated now; +to a man who grew up to be an engineer and who'd now gotten over his +psychosis against space too late to start over, the engines were +things better left alone. Then I remembered that I hadn't seen +Wilcox's quarters, since he had the only key to them. + +I nodded and went inside. The engines were old, and the gravity +generator was one of the first models. But Wilcox knew his business. +The place was slick enough, and there was the good clean smell of +metal working right. I could feel the controls in my hands, and my +nerves itched as I went about making a perfunctory token examination. +I even opened the fuel lockers and glanced in. The two crewmen watched +with hard eyes, slitted as tight as Grundy's, but they didn't bother +me. Then I shrugged, and went back with Wilcox to his tiny cabin. + + * * * * * + +I was hit by the place before I got inside. Tiny, yes, but fixed up +like the dream of every engineer. Clean, neat, filled with books and +luxuries. He even had a tape player I'd seen on sale for a trifle over +three thousand dollars. He turned it on, letting the opening bars of +Haydn's Oxford Symphony come out. It was a binaural, ultra-fidelity +job, and I could close my eyes and feel the orchestra in front of me. + +This time I was thorough, right down the line, from the cabinets that +held luxury food and wine to the little drawer where he kept his +dress-suit studs; they might have been rutiles, but I had a hunch they +were genuine catseyes. + +He laughed when I finished, and handed me a glass of the first decent wine +I'd tasted in months. "Even a small ozonator to make the air seem more +breathable, and a dehumidifier, Tremaine. I like to live decently. I +started saving my money once with the idea of getting a ship of my own--" +There was a real dream in his eyes for a second. Then he shrugged. "But +ships got bigger and more expensive. So I decided to live. At forty, I've +got maybe twenty years ahead here, and I mean to enjoy it. And--well, +there are ways of making a bit extra...." + +I nodded. So it's officially smuggling to carry a four-ounce Martian +fur to Earth where it's worth a fortune, considering the legal duty. +But most officers did it now and then. He put on Sibelius' Fourth +while I finished the wine. "If this mess is ever over, Paul, or you +get a chance, drop down," he said. "I like a man who knows good +things--and I liked your reaction when you spotted that Haydn for +Hohmann's recording. Muller pretends to know music, but he likes the +flashiness of Möhlwehr." + +Hell, I'd cut my eye teeth on that stuff; my father had been first +violinist in an orchestra, and had considered me a traitor when I was +born without perfect pitch. We talked about Sibelius for awhile, +before I left to go out into the stinking rest of the ship. Grundy was +sitting before the engines, staring at them. Wilcox had said the big +ape liked to watch them move ... but he was supposed to be locked up. + + * * * * * + +I stopped by Lomax's door; the shutter was open, and I could see the +big man writhing about, but he was apparently unconscious. Napier came +back from somewhere, and nodded quickly. + +"Concussion," he said. "He's still out, but it shouldn't be too +serious." + +"Grundy's loose." I'd expected surprise, but there was none. "Why?" + +He shrugged. "Muller claimed he needed his mate free to handle the +crew, and that there was no place the man could go. I think it was +because the men are afraid they'll be outnumbered by your group." His +mouth smiled, but it was suddenly bitter. "Jenny talked Pietro into +agreeing with Muller." + +Mess was on when I reached the group. I wasn't hungry. The wine had +cut the edge from my appetite, and the slow increase of poison in the +air was getting me, as it was the others. Sure, carbon dioxide isn't a +real poison--but no organism can live in its own waste, all the same. +I had a rotten headache. I sat there playing a little game I'd +invented--trying to figure which ones I'd eliminate if some had to +die. Jenny laughed up at Muller, and I added him to the list. Then I +changed it, and put her in his place. I was getting sick of the little +witch, though I knew it would be different if she'd been laughing up +at me. And then, because of the sick-calf look on Bill Sanderson's +face as he stared at Eve, I added him, though I'd always liked the +guy. Eve, surprisingly, had as many guys after her as Jenny; but she +didn't seem interested. Or maybe she did--she'd pulled her hair back +and put on a dress that made her figure look good. Either flattery was +working, or she was entering into the last-days feeling most of us +had. + +Napier came in and touched my shoulder. "Lomax is conscious, and he's +asking for you," he said, too low for the others to hear. + +I found the chemist conscious, all right, but sick--and scared. His +face winced, under all the bandages, as I opened the door. Then he saw +who it was, and relaxed. "Paul--what happened to me? The last I +remember is going up to see that second batch of plants poisoned. +But--well, this is something I must have got later...." + +I told him, as best I could. "But don't you remember anything?" + +"Not a thing about that. It's the same as Napier told me, and I've +been trying to remember. Paul, you don't think--?" + +I put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back gently. "Don't be a +damned fool, Hal. I know you're no killer." + +"But somebody is, Paul. Somebody tried to kill me while I was +unconscious!" + +He must have seen my reaction. "They did, Paul. I don't know how I +know--maybe I almost came to--but somebody tried to poke a stick +through the door with a knife on it. They want to kill me." + +[Illustration] + +I tried to calm him down until Napier came and gave him a sedative. +The doctor seemed as sick about Hal's inability to remember as I was, +though he indicated it was normal enough in concussion cases. "So is +the hallucination," he added. "He'll be all right tomorrow." + +In that, Napier was wrong. When the doctor looked in on him the next +time, the big chemist lay behind a door that had been pried open, with +a long galley knife through his heart. On the bloody sheet, his finger +had traced something in his own blood. + +"_It was_...." But the last "s" was blurred, and there was nothing +more. + + +IV + +I don't know how many were shocked at Hal's death, or how many looked +around and counted one less pair of lungs. He'd never been one of the +men I'd envied the air he used, though, and I think most felt the +same. For awhile, we didn't even notice that the air was even thicker. + +Phil Riggs broke the silence following our inspection of Lomax's +cabin. "That damned Bullard! I'll get him, I'll get him as sure as he +got Hal!" + +There was a rustle among the others, and a suddenly crystallized hate +on their faces. But Muller's hoarse shout cut through the babble that +began, and rose over even the anguished shrieking of the cook. "Shut +up, the lot of you! Bullard couldn't have committed the other crimes. +Any one of you is a better suspect. Stop snivelling, Bullard, this +isn't a lynching mob, and it isn't going to be one!" + +"What about Grundy?" Walt Harris yelled. + +Wilcox pushed forward. "Grundy couldn't have done it. He's the logical +suspect, but he was playing rummy with my men." + +The two engine men nodded agreement, and we began filing back to the +mess hall, with the exception of Bullard, who shoved back into a +niche, trying to avoid us. Then, when we were almost out of his sight, +he let out a shriek and came blubbering after us. + +I watched them put Hal Lomax's body through the 'tween-hulls lock, and +turned toward the engine room; I could use some of that wine, just as +the ship could have used a trained detective. But the idea of watching +helplessly while the engines purred along to remind me I was just a +handyman for the rest of my life got mixed up with the difficulty of +breathing the stale air, and I started to turn back. My head was +throbbing, and for two cents I'd have gone out between the hulls +beside Lomax and the others and let the foul air spread out there and +freeze.... + +The idea was slow coming. Then I was running back toward the engines. +I caught up with Wilcox just before he went into his own quarters. +"Wilcox!" + +He swung around casually, saw it was me, and motioned inside. "How +about some Bartok, Paul? Or would you rather soothe your nerves with +some first-rate Buxtehude organ...." + +"Damn the music," I told him. "I've got a wild idea to get rid of this +carbon dioxide, and I want to know if we can get it working with what +we've got." + +He snapped to attention at that. Half-way through my account, he +fished around and found a bottle of Armagnac. "I get it. If we pipe +our air through the passages between the hulls on the shadow side, it +will lose its heat in a hurry. And we can regulate its final +temperature by how fast we pipe it through--just keep it moving enough +to reach the level where carbon dioxide freezes out, but the oxygen +stays a gas. Then pass it around the engines--we'll have to cut out +the normal cooling set-up, but that's okay--warm it up.... Sure, I've +got equipment enough for that. We can set it up in a day. Of course, +it won't give us any more oxygen, but we'll be able to breathe what we +have. To success, Paul!" + +I guess it was good brandy, but I swallowed mine while calling Muller +down, and never got to taste it. + +It's surprising how much easier the air got to breathe after we'd +double-checked the idea. In about fifteen minutes, we were all milling +around in the engine room, while Wilcox checked through equipment. But +there was no question about it. It was even easier than we'd thought. +We could simply bypass the cooling unit, letting the engine housings +stay open to the between-hulls section; then it was simply a matter of +cutting a small opening into that section at the other end of the ship +and installing a sliding section to regulate the amount of air flowing +in. The exhaust from the engine heat pumps was reversed, and run out +through a hole hastily knocked in the side of the wall. + +Naturally, we let it flow too fast at first. Space is a vacuum, which +means it's a good insulator. We had to cut the air down to a trickle. +Then Wilcox ran into trouble because his engines wouldn't cool with +that amount of air. He went back to supervise a patched-up job of +splitting the coolers into sections, which took time. But after that, +we had it. + +I went through the hatch with Muller and Pietro. With air there there +was no need to wear space suits, but it was so cold that we could take +it for only a minute or so. That was long enough to see a faint, fine +mist of dry ice snow falling. It was also long enough to catch a sight +of the three bodies there. I didn't enjoy that, and Pietro gasped. +Muller grimaced. When we came back, he sent Grundy in to move the +bodies to a hull-section where our breathing air wouldn't pass over +them. It wasn't necessary, of course. But somehow, it seemed +important. + +By lunch, the air seemed normal. We shipped only pure oxygen at about +three pounds pressure, instead of loading it with a lot of useless +nitrogen. With the carbon dioxide cut back to normal levels, it was as +good as ever. The only difference was that the fans had to be set to +blow in a different pattern. We celebrated, and even Bullard seemed to +have perked up. He dug out pork chops and almost succeeded in making +us cornbread out of some coarse flour I saw him pouring out of the +food chopper. He had perked up enough to bewail the fact that all he +had was canned spinach instead of turnip greens. + +But by night, the temper had changed--and the food indicated it again. +Bullard's cooking was turning into a barometer of the psychic +pressure. We'd had time to realize that we weren't getting something +for nothing. Every molecule of carbon-dioxide that crystallized out +took two atoms of oxygen with it, completely out of circulation. + + * * * * * + +We were also losing water-vapor, we found; normally, any one of our +group knew enough science to know that the water would fall out before +the carbon dioxide, but we hadn't thought of it. We took care of that, +however, by having Wilcox weld in a baffle and keep the section where +the water condensed separate from the carbon dioxide snowfall. We +could always shovel out the real ice, and meantime the ship's controls +restored the moisture to the air easily enough. + +But there was nothing we could do about the oxygen. When that was +gone, it stayed gone. The plants still took care of about two-thirds +of our waste--but the other third was locked out there between the +hulls. Given plants enough, we could have thawed it and let them +reconvert it; a nice idea, except that we had to wait three months to +take care of it, if we lived that long. + +Bullard's cooking began to get worse. Then suddenly, we got one good +meal. Eve Nolan came down the passage to announce that Bullard was +making cake, with frosting, canned huckleberry pie, and all the works. +We headed for the mess hall, fast. + +It was the cook's masterpiece. Muller came down late, though, and +regarded it doubtfully. "There's something funny," he said as he +settled down beside me. Jenny had been surrounded by Napier and +Pietro. "Bullard came up babbling a few minutes ago. I don't like it. +Something about eating hearty, because he'd saved us all, forever and +ever. He told me the angels were on our side, because a beautiful +angel with two halos came to him in his sleep and told him how to save +us. I chased him back to the galley, but I don't like it." + +Most of them had already eaten at least half of the food, but I saw +Muller wasn't touching his. The rest stopped now, as the words sank +in, and Napier looked shocked. "No!" he said, but his tone wasn't +positive. "He's a weakling, but I don't think he's insane--not enough +to poison us." + +"There was that food poisoning before," Pietro said suddenly. "Paul, +come along. And don't eat anything until we come back." + +We broke the record getting to the galley. There Bullard sat, beaming +happily, eating from a huge plate piled with the food he had cooked. I +checked on it quickly--and there wasn't anything he'd left out. He +looked up, and his grin widened foolishly. + +"Hi, docs," he said. "Yes, sir, I knowed you'd be coming. It all came +to me in a dream. Looked just like my wife twenty years ago, she did, +with green and yellow halos. And she told it to me. Told me I'd been a +good man, and nothing was going to happen to me. Not to good old Emery +Bullard. Had it all figgered out." + +He speared a big forkful of food and crammed it into his mouth, +munching noisily. "Had it all figgered. Pop-corn. Best damned pop-corn +you ever saw, kind they raise not fifty miles from where I was born. +You know, I didn't useta like you guys. But now I love everybody. When +we get to Saturn, I'm gonna make up for all the times I didn't give +you pop-corn. We'll pop and we'll pop. And beans, too. I useta hate +beans. Always beans on a ship. But now we're saved, and I love +beans!" + +He stared after us, half coming out of his seat. "Hey, docs, ain't you +gonna let me tell you about it?" + +"Later, Bullard," Pietro called back. "Something just came up. We want +to hear all about it." + + * * * * * + +Inside the mess hall, he shrugged. "He's eating the food himself. If +he's crazy, he's in a happy stage of it. I'm sure he isn't trying to +poison us." He sat down and began eating, without any hesitation. + +I didn't feel as sure, and suspected he didn't. But it was too late to +back out. Together, we summarized what he'd told us, while Napier +puzzled over it. Finally the doctor shrugged. "Visions. Euphoria. +Disconnection with reality. Apparently something of a delusion that +he's to save the world. I'm not a psychiatrist, but it sounds like +insanity to me. Probably not dangerous. At least, while he wants to +save us, we won't have to worry about the food. Still...." + +Wilcox mulled it over, and resumed the eating he had neglected before. + +"Grundy claimed he'd been down near the engine room, trying to get +permission to pop something in the big pile. I thought Grundy was just +getting his stories mixed up. But--pop-corn!" + +"I'll have him locked in his cabin," Muller decided. He picked up the +nearest handset, saw that it was to the galley, and switched quickly. +"Grundy, lock Bullard up. And no rough stuff this time." Then he +turned to Napier. "Dr. Napier, you'll have to see him and find out +what you can." + +I guess there's a primitive fear of insanity in most of us. We felt +sick, beyond the nagging worry about the food. Napier got up at once. +"I'll give him a sedative. Maybe it's just nerves, and he'll snap out +of it after a good sleep. Anyhow, your mate can stand watching." + +"Who can cook?" Muller asked. His eyes swung down the table toward +Jenny. + +I wondered how she'd get out of that. Apparently she'd never told +Muller about the scars she still had from spilled grease, and how +she'd never forgiven her mother or been able to go near a kitchen +since. But I should have guessed. She could remember my stories, too. +Her eyes swung up toward mine pleadingly. + +Eve Nolan stood up suddenly. "I'm not only a good cook, but I enjoy +it," she stated flatly, and there was disgust in the look she threw at +Jenny. She swung toward me. "How about it, Paul, can you wrestle the +big pots around for me?" + +"I used to be a short order cook when I was finishing school," I told +her. But she'd ruined the line. The grateful look and laugh from Jenny +weren't needed now. And curiously, I felt grateful to Eve for it. I +got up and went after Napier. + +I found him in Bullard's little cubbyhole of a cabin. He must have +chased Grundy off, and now he was just drawing a hypo out of the +cook's arm. "It'll take the pain away," he was saying softly. "And +I'll see that he doesn't hit you again. You'll be all right, now. And +in the morning, I'll come and listen to you. Just go to sleep. Maybe +she'll come back and tell you more." + +He must have heard me, since he signalled me out with his hand, and +backed out quietly himself, still talking. He shut the door, and +clicked the lock. + +Bullard heard it, though. He jerked to a sitting position, and +screamed. "_No!_ No! He'll kill me! I'm a good man...." + +He hunched up on the bed, forcing the sheet into his mouth. When he +looked up a second later, his face was frozen in fear, but it was a +desperate, calm kind of fear. He turned to face us, and his voice +raised to a full shout, with every word as clear as he could make it. + +"All right. Now I'll never tell you the secret. Now you can all die +without air. I promise I'll never tell you what I know!" + +He fell back, beating at the sheet with his hand and sobbing +hysterically. Napier watched him. "Poor devil," the doctor said at +last. "Well, in another minute the shot will take effect. Maybe he's +lucky. He won't be worrying for awhile. And maybe he'll be rational +tomorrow." + +"All the same, I'm going to stand guard until Muller gets someone else +here," I decided. I kept remembering Lomax. + +Napier nodded, and half an hour later Bill Sanderson came to take over +the watch. Bullard was sleeping soundly. + +The next day, though, he woke up to start moaning and writhing again. +But he was keeping his word. He refused to answer any questions. +Napier looked worried as he reported he'd given the cook another shot +of sedative. There was nothing else he could do. + +Cooking was a relief, in a way. By the time Eve and I had scrubbed all +the pots into what she considered proper order, located some of the +food lockers, and prepared and served a couple of meals, we'd evolved +a smooth system that settled into a routine with just enough work to +help keep our minds off the dwindling air in the tanks. In anything +like a kitchen, she lost most of her mannish pose and turned into a +live, efficient woman. And she could cook. + +"First thing I learned," she told me. "I grew up in a kitchen. I guess +I'd never have turned to photography if my kid brother hadn't been +using our sink for his darkroom." + +Wilcox brought her a bottle of his wine to celebrate her first dinner. +He seemed to want to stick around, but she chased him off after the +first drink. We saved half the bottle to make a sauce the next day. + +It never got made. Muller called a council of war, and his face was +pinched and old. He was leaning on Jenny as Eve and I came into the +mess hall; oddly, she seemed to be trying to buck him up. He got down +to the facts as soon as all of us were together. + +"Our oxygen tanks are empty," he announced. "They shouldn't be--but +they are. Someone must have sabotaged them before the plants were +poisoned--and done it so the dials don't show it. I just found it out +when the automatic switch to a new tank failed to work. We now have +the air in the ship, and no more. Dr. Napier and I have figured that +this will keep us all alive with the help of the plants for no more +than fifteen days. I am open to any suggestions!" + + * * * * * + +There was silence after that, while it soaked in. Then it was broken +by a thin scream from Phil Riggs. He slumped into a seat and buried +his head in his hands. Pietro put a hand on the man's thin shoulders, +"Captain Muller--" + +"Kill 'em!" It was Grundy's voice, bellowing sharply. "Let'em breathe +space! They got us into it! We can make out with the plants left! It's +our ship!" + +Muller had walked forward. Now his fist lashed out, and Grundy +crumpled. He lay still for a second, then got to his feet unsteadily. +Jenny screamed, but Muller moved steadily back to his former place +without looking at the mate. Grundy hesitated, fumbled in his pocket +for something, and swallowed it. + +"Captain, sir!" His voice was lower this time. + +"Yes, Mr. Grundy?" + +"How many of us can live off the plants?" + +"Ten--perhaps eleven." + +"Then--then give us a lottery!" + +Pietro managed to break in over the yells of the rest of the crew. "I +was about to suggest calling for volunteers, Captain Muller. I still +have enough faith in humanity to believe...." + +"You're a fool, Dr. Pietro," Muller said flatly. "Do you think Grundy +would volunteer? Or Bullard? But thanks for clearing the air, and +admitting your group has nothing more to offer. A lottery seems to be +the only fair system." + +He sat down heavily. "We have tradition on this; in an emergency such +as this, death lotteries have been held, and have been considered +legal afterwards. Are there any protests?" + +I could feel my tongue thicken in my mouth. I could see the others +stare about, hoping someone would object, wondering if this could be +happening. But nobody answered, and Muller nodded reluctantly. "A +working force must be left. Some men are indispensable. We must have +an engineer, a navigator, and a doctor. One man skilled with +engine-room practice and one with deck work must remain." + +"And the cook goes," Grundy yelled. His eyes were intent and slitted +again. + +Some of both groups nodded, but Muller brought his fist down on the +table. "This will be a legal lottery, Mr. Grundy. Dr. Napier will draw +for him." + +"And for myself," Napier said. "It's obvious that ten men aren't going +on to Saturn--you'll have to turn back, or head for Jupiter. Jupiter, +in fact, is the only sensible answer. And a ship can get along without +a doctor that long when it has to. I demand my right to the draw." + +Muller only shrugged and laid down the rules. They were simple enough. +He would cut drinking straws to various lengths, and each would draw +one. The two deck hands would compare theirs, and the longer would be +automatically safe. The same for the pair from the engine-room. Wilcox +was safe. "Mr. Peters and I will also have one of us eliminated," he +added quietly. "In an emergency, our abilities are sufficiently +alike." + +The remaining group would have their straws measured, and the seven +shortest ones would be chosen to remove themselves into a vacant +section between hulls without air within three hours, or be forcibly +placed there. The remaining ten would head for Jupiter if no miracle +removed the danger in those three hours. + +Peters got the straws, and Muller cut them and shuffled them. There +was a sick silence that let us hear the sounds of the scissors with +each snip. Muller arranged them so the visible ends were even. "Ladies +first," he said. There was no expression on his face or in his voice. + +Jenny didn't giggle, but neither did she balk. She picked a straw, and +then shrieked faintly. It was obviously a long one. Eve reached for +hers-- + +And Wilcox yelled suddenly. "Captain Muller, protest! Protest! You're +using all long straws for the women!" He had jumped forward, and now +struck down Muller's hand, proving his point. + +"You're quite right, Mr. Wilcox," Muller said woodenly. He dropped his +hand toward his lap and came up with a group of the straws that had +been cut, placed there somehow without our seeing it. He'd done a +smooth job of it, but not smooth enough. "I felt some of you would +notice it, but I also felt that gentlemen would prefer to see ladies +given the usual courtesies." + +He reshuffled the assorted straws, and then paused. "Mr. Tremaine, +there was a luxury liner named the _Lauri Ellu_ with an assistant +engineer by your name; and I believe you've shown a surprising +familiarity with certain customs of space. A few days ago, Jenny +mentioned something that jogged my memory. Can you still perform the +duties of an engineer?" + +Wilcox had started to protest at the delay. Now shock ran through him. +He stared unbelievingly from Muller to me and back, while his face +blanched. I could guess what it must have felt like to see certain +safety cut to a 50 per cent chance, and I didn't like the way Muller +was willing to forget until he wanted to take a crack at Wilcox for +punishment. But.... + +"I can," I answered. And then, because I was sick inside myself for +cutting under Wilcox, I managed to add, "But I--I waive my chance at +immunity!" + +"Not accepted," Muller decided. "Jenny, will you draw?" + +It was pretty horrible. It was worse when the pairs compared straws. +The animal feelings were out in the open then. Finally, Muller, +Wilcox, and two crewmen dropped out. The rest of us went up to measure +our straws. + +It took no more than a minute. I stood staring down at the ruler, +trying to stretch the tiny thing I'd drawn. I could smell the sweat +rising from my body. But I knew the answer. I had three hours left! + + * * * * * + +"Riggs, Oliver, Nolan, Harris, Tremaine, Napier and Grundy," Muller +announced. + +A yell came from Grundy. He stood up, with the engine man named +Oliver, and there was a gun in his hand. "No damned big brain's +kicking me off my ship," he yelled. "You guys know me. Hey, +_roooob_!" + +Oliver was with him, and the other three of the crew sprang into the +group. I saw Muller duck a shot from Grundy's gun, and leap out of the +room. Then I was in it, heading for Grundy. Beside me, Peters was +trying to get a chair broken into pieces. I felt something hit my +shoulder, and the shock knocked me downward, just as a shot whistled +over my head. + +Gravity cut off! + +Someone bounced off me. I got a piece of the chair that floated by, +found the end cracked and sharp, and tried to spin towards Grundy, but +I couldn't see him. I heard Eve's voice yell over the other shouts. I +spotted the plate coming for me, but I was still in midair. It came on +steadily, edge on, and I felt it break against my forehead. Then I +blacked out. + + +V + +I had the grandaddy of all headaches when I came to. Doc Napier's face +was over me, and Jenny and Muller were working on Bill Sanderson. +There was a surprisingly small and painful lump on my head. Pietro and +Napier helped me up, and I found I could stand after a minute. + +There were four bodies covered with sheets on the floor. "Grundy, Phil +Riggs, Peters and a deckhand named Storm," Napier said. "Muller gave +us a whiff of gas and not quite in time." + +"Is the time up?" I asked. It was the only thing I could think of. + +Pietro shook his head sickly. "Lottery is off. Muller says we'll have +to hold another, since Storm and Peters were supposed to be safe. But +not until tomorrow." + +Eve came in then, lugging coffee. Her eyes found me, and she managed a +brief smile. "I gave the others coffee," she reported to Muller. +"They're pretty subdued now." + +"Mutiny!" Muller helped Jenny's brother to his feet and began helping +him toward the door. "Mutiny! And I have to swallow that!" + +Pietro watched him go, and handed Eve back his cup. "And there's no +way of knowing who was on which side. Dr. Napier, could you do +something...." + +He held out his hands that were shaking, and Napier nodded. "I can use +a sedative myself. Come on back with me." + +Eve and I wandered back to the kitchen. I was just getting my senses +back. The damned stupidity of it all. And now it would have to be +done over. Three of us still had to have our lives snuffed out so the +others could live--and we all had to go through hell again to find out +which. + +Eve must have been thinking the same. She sank down on a little stool, +and her hand came out to find mine. "For what? Paul, whoever poisoned +the plants knew it would go this far! He had to! What's to be gained? +Particularly when he'd have to go through all this, too! He must have +been crazy!" + +"Bullard couldn't have done it," I said slowly. + +"Why should it be Bullard? How do we know he was insane? Maybe when he +was shouting that he wouldn't tell, he was trying to make a bribe to +save his own life. Maybe he's as scared as we are. Maybe he was making +sense all along, if we'd only listened to him. He--" + +She stood up and started back toward the lockers, but I caught her +hand. "Eve, he wouldn't have done it--the killer--if he'd had to go +through the lottery! He knew he was safe! That's the one thing we've +been overlooking. The man to suspect is the only man who could be sure +he would get back! My God, we saw him juggle those straws to save +Jenny! He knew he'd control the lottery." + +She frowned. "But ... Paul, he practically suggested the lottery! +Grundy brought it up, but he was all ready for it." The frown +vanished, then returned. "But I still can't believe it." + +"He's the one who wanted to go back all the time. He kept insisting on +it, but he had to get back without violating his contract." I grabbed +her hand and started toward the nose of the ship, justifying it to her +as I went. "The only man with a known motive for returning, the only +one completely safe--and we didn't even think of it!" + +She was still frowning, but I wasn't wasting time. We came up the +corridor to the control room. Ahead the door was slightly open, and I +could hear a mutter of Jenny's voice. Then there was the tired rumble +of Muller. + +"I'll find a way, baby. I don't care how close they watch, we'll make +it work. Pick the straw with the crimp in the end--I can do that, even +if I can't push one out further again. I tell you, nothing's going to +happen to you." + +"But Bill--" she began. + +I hit the door, slamming it open. Muller sat on a narrow couch with +Jenny on his lap. I took off for him, not wasting a good chance when +he was handicapped. But I hadn't counted on Jenny. She was up, and +her head banged into my stomach before I knew she was coming. I felt +the wind knocked out, but I got her out of my way--to look up into the +muzzle of a gun in Muller's hands. + +"You'll explain this, Mr. Tremaine," he said coldly. "In ten seconds, +I'll have an explanation or a corpse." + +"Go ahead," I told him. "Shoot, damn you! You'll get away with this, +too, I suppose. Mutiny, or something. And down in that rotten soul of +yours, I suppose you'll be gloating at how you made fools of us. The +only man on board who was safe even from a lottery, and we couldn't +see it. Jenny, I hope you'll be happy with this butcher. Very happy!" + +He never blinked. "Say that about the only safe man aboard again," he +suggested. + +I repeated it, with details. But he didn't like my account. He turned +to Eve, and motioned for her to take it up. She was frowning harder, +and her voice was uncertain, but she summed up our reasons quickly +enough. + +And suddenly Muller was on his feet. "Mr. Tremaine, for a damned +idiot, you have a good brain. You found the key to the problem, even +if you couldn't find the lock. Do you know what happens to a captain +who permits a death lottery, even what I called a legal one? He +doesn't captain a liner--he shoots himself after he delivers his ship, +if he's wise! Come on, we'll find the one indispensable man. You stay +here, Jenny--you too, Eve!" + +Jenny whimpered, but stayed. Eve followed, and he made no comment. And +then it hit me. The man who had _thought_ he was indispensable, and +hence safe--the man I'd naturally known in the back of my head could +be replaced, though no one else had known it until a little while ago. + +"He must have been sick when you ran me in as a ringer," I said, as we +walked down toward the engine hatch. "But why?" + +"I've just had a wild guess as to part of it," Muller said. + + * * * * * + +Wilcox was listening to the Buxtehude when we shoved the door of his +room open, and he had his head back and eyes closed. He snapped to +attention, and reached out with one hand toward a drawer beside him. +Then he dropped his arm and stood up, to cut off the tape player. + +"Mr. Wilcox," Muller said quietly, holding the gun firmly on the +engineer. "Mr. Wilcox, I've detected evidence of some of the Venus +drugs on your two assistants for some time. It's rather hard to miss +the signs in their eyes. I've also known that Mr. Grundy was an +addict. I assumed that they were getting it from him naturally. And as +long as they performed their duties, I couldn't be choosy on an old +ship like this. But for an officer to furnish such drugs--and to +smuggle them from Venus for sale to other planets--is something I +cannot tolerate. It will make things much simpler if you will +surrender those drugs to me. I presume you keep them in those bottles +of wine you bring aboard?" + +Wilcox shook his head slowly, settling back against the tape machine. +Then he shrugged and bowed faintly. "The chianti, sir!" + +I turned my head toward the bottles, and Eve started forward. Then I +yelled as Wilcox shoved his hand down toward the tape machine. The gun +came out on a spring as he touched it. + +Muller shot once, and the gun missed Wilcox's fingers as the +engineer's hand went to his hip, where blood was flowing. He collapsed +into the chair behind him, staring at the spot stupidly. "I cut my +teeth on _tough_ ships, Mr. Wilcox," Muller said savagely. + +The man's face was white, but he nodded slowly, and a weak grin came +onto his lips. "Maybe you didn't exaggerate those stories at that," he +conceded slowly. "I take it I drew a short straw." + +"Very short. It wasn't worth it. No profit from the piddling sale of +drugs is worth it." + +"There's a group of strings inside the number one fuel locker," Wilcox +said between his teeth. The numbness was wearing off, and the +shattered bones in his hip were beginning to eat at him. "Paul, pull +up one of the packages and bring it here, will you?" + +I found it without much trouble--along with a whole row of others, +fine cords cemented to the side of the locker. The package I drew up +weighed about ten pounds. Wilcox opened it and scooped out a +thimbleful of greenish powder. He washed it down with wine. + +"Fatal?" Muller asked. + +The man nodded. "In that dosage, after a couple of hours. But it cuts +out the pain--ah, better already. I won't feel it. Captain, I was +never piddling. Your ship has been the sole source of this drug to +Mars since a year or so after I first shipped on her. There are about +seven hundred pounds of pure stuff out there. Grundy and the others +would commit public murder daily rather than lose the few ounces a +year I gave them. Imagine what would happen when Pietro conscripted +the _Wahoo_ and no drugs arrived. The addicts find out no more is +coming--they look for the peddlers--and _they_ start looking for their +suppliers...." + +He shrugged. "There might have been time and ways, if I could have +gotten the ship back to Earth or Jupiter. It might have been +recommissioned into the Earth-Mars-Venus run, even. Pietro's +injunction caught me before I could transship, but with another +chance, I might have gotten the stuff to Mars in time.... Well, it was +a chance I took. Satisfied?" + + * * * * * + +Eve stared at him with horrified eyes. Maybe I was looking the same. +It was plain enough now. He'd planned to poison the plants and drive +us back. Murder of Hendrix had been a blunder when he'd thought it +wasn't working properly. "What about Sam?" I asked. + +"Blackmail. He was too smart. He'd been sure Grundy was smuggling the +stuff, and raking off from him. He didn't care who killed Hendrix as +much as how much Grundy would pay to keep his mouth shut--with murder +around, he figured Grundy'd get rattled. The fool did, and Sam smelled +bigger stakes. Grundy was bait to get him down near here. I killed +him." + +"And Lomax?" + +"I don't know. Maybe he was bluffing. But he kept going from room to +room with a pocketful of chemicals, making some kind of tests. I +couldn't take a chance on his being able to spot chromazone. So I had +Grundy give him my keys and tell him to go ahead--then jump him." + +And after that, when he wasn't quite killed, they'd been forced to +finish the job. Wilcox shrugged again. "I guess it got out of hand. +I'll make a tape of the whole story for you, Captain. But I'd +appreciate it if you'd get Napier down here. This is getting pretty +messy." + +"He's on the way," Eve said. We hadn't seen her call, but the doctor +arrived almost immediately afterwards. + +He sniffed the drug, and questioned us about the dose Wilcox had +taken. Then he nodded slowly. "About two hours, I'd say. No chance at +all to save him. The stuff is absorbed almost at once and begins +changing to something else in the blood. I'll be responsible, if you +want." + +Muller shrugged. "I suppose so. I'd rather deliver him in irons to a +jury, but.... Well, we still have a lottery to hold!" + +It jerked us back to reality sharply. Somehow, I'd been fighting off +the facts, figuring that finding the cause would end the results. But +even with Wilcox out of the picture, there were twelve of us left--and +air for only ten! + +Wilcox laughed abruptly. "A favor for a favor. I can give you a better +answer than a lottery." + +"Pop-corn! Bullard!" Eve slapped her head with her palm. "Captain, +give me the master key." She snatched it out of his hand and was gone +at a run. + +Wilcox looked disappointed, and then grinned. "Pop-corn and beans. I +overlooked them myself. We're a bunch of city hicks. But when Bullard +forgot his fears in his sleep, he remembered the answer--and got it so +messed up with his dream and his new place as a hero that my complaint +tipped the balance. Grundy put the fear of his God into him then. And +you didn't get it. Captain, you don't dehydrate beans and +pop-corn--they come that way naturally. You don't can them, either, if +you're saving weight. They're seeds--put them in tanks and they grow!" + +He leaned back, trying to laugh at us, as Napier finished dressing his +wound. "Bullard knows where the lockers are. And corn grows pretty +fast. It'll carry you through. Do I get that favor? It's simple +enough--just to have Beethoven's Ninth on the machine and for the +whole damned lot of you to get out of my cabin and let me die in my +own way!" + +Muller shrugged, but Napier found the tape and put it on. I wanted to +see the louse punished for every second of worry, for Lomax, for +Hendrix--even for Grundy. But there wasn't much use in vengeance at +this point. + +"You're to get all this, Paul," Wilcox said as we got ready to leave. +"Captain Muller, everything here goes to Tremaine. I'll make a tape on +that, too. But I want it to go to a man who can appreciate Hohmann's +conducting." + +Muller closed the door. "I guess it's yours," he admitted. "Now that +you're head engineer here, Mr. Tremaine, the cabin is automatically +yours. Take over. And get that junk in the fuel locker cleaned +out--except enough to keep your helpers going. They'll need it, and +we'll need their work." + +"I'll clean out his stuff at the same time," I said. "I don't want any +part of it." + +He smiled then, just as Eve came down with Bullard and Pietro. The fat +cook was sobered, but already beginning to fill with his own +importance. I caught snatches as they began to discuss Bullard's +knowledge of growing things. It was enough to know that we'd all +live, though it might be tough for a while. + +Then Muller gestured upwards. "You've got a reduced staff, Dr. Pietro. +Do you intend going on to Saturn?" + +"We'll go on," Pietro decided. And Muller nodded. They turned and +headed upwards. + +I stood staring at my engines. One of them was a touch out of phase +and I went over and corrected it. They'd be mine for over two +years--and after that, I'd be back on the lists. + +Eve came over beside me, and studied them with me. Finally she sighed +softly. "I guess I can see why you feel that way about them, Paul," +she said. "And I'll be coming down to look at them. But right now, +Bullard's too busy to cook, and everyone's going to be hungry when +they find we're saved." + +I chuckled, and felt the relief wash over me finally. I dropped my +hand from the control and caught hers--a nice, friendly hand. + +But at the entrance I stopped and looked back toward the cabin where +Wilcox lay. I could just make out the second movement of the Ninth +beginning. + +I never could stand the cheap blatancy of Hohmann's conducting. + + * * * * * + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Let'em Breathe Space, by Lester del Rey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LET'EM BREATHE SPACE *** + +***** This file should be named 31286-8.txt or 31286-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/2/8/31286/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: Let'em Breathe Space + +Author: Lester del Rey + +Illustrator: Eberle + +Release Date: February 16, 2010 [EBook #31286] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LET'EM BREATHE SPACE *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="tr"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:</p> +<p class="center">This etext was produced from Space Science Fiction July 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p></div> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="400" height="574" alt="Illustration" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_001.jpg" width="400" height="601" alt="Illustration" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<h1>LET'EM BREATHE SPACE!</h1> +<p> </p> +<h2>BY LESTER DEL REY</h2> +<p> </p> +<h3>ILLUSTRATED BY EBERLE</h3> +<p> </p> +<div class="blockquot"><p>Eighteen men and two women in the closed world of a space +ship for five months can only spell tension and trouble—but +in this case, the atmosphere was <i>literally</i> poisoned.</p></div> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_002.jpg" width="400" height="631" alt="Illustration" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p>Five months out from Earth, we were half-way to Saturn and +three-quarters of the way to murder. At least, I was. I was sick of +the feuding, the worries and the pettiness of the other nineteen +aboard. My stomach heaved at the bad food, the eternal smell of +people, and the constant sound of nagging and complaints. For ten lead +pennies, I'd have gotten out into space and tried walking back to +Earth. Sometimes I thought about doing it without the pennies.</p> + +<p>But I knew I wasn't that tough, in spite of what I looked. I'd been +built to play fullback, and my questionable brunet beauty had been +roughed up by the explosion years before as thoroughly as dock +fighting on all the planets could have done. But sometimes I figured +all that meant was that there was more of me to hurt, and that I'd had +more experience screaming when the anodyne ran out.</p> + +<p>Anyhow, whole-wheat pancakes made with sourdough for the ninth +"morning" running was too damned much! I felt my stomach heave over +again, took one whiff of the imitation maple syrup, and shoved the +mess back fast while I got up faster.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was a mistake. Phil Riggs, our scrawny, half-pint meteorologist, +grinned nastily and reached for the plate. "'Smatter, Paul? Don't you +like your breakfast? It's good for you—whole wheat contains bran. The +staff of life. Man, after that diet of bleached paste...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There's one guy like that in every bunch. The cook was mad at us for +griping about his coffee, so our group of scientists on this cockeyed +Saturn Expedition were getting whole wheat flour as punishment, while +Captain Muller probably sat in his cabin chuckling about it. In our +agreement, there was a clause that we could go over Muller's head on +such things with a unanimous petition—but Riggs had spiked that. The +idiot liked bran in his flour, even for pancakes!</p> + +<p>Or else he was putting on a good act for the fun of watching the rest +of us suffer.</p> + +<p>"You can take your damned whole wheat and stuff it—" I started. Then +I shrugged and dropped it. There were enough feuds going on aboard the +cranky old <i>Wahoo</i>! "Seen Jenny this morning, Phil?"</p> + +<p>He studied me insolently. "She told Doc Napier she had some stuff +growing in hydroponics she wanted to look at. You're wasting your time +on that babe, boy!"</p> + +<p>"Thanks for nothing," I muttered at him, and got out before I really +decided on murder. Jenny Sanderson was our expedition biologist. A +natural golden blonde, just chin-high on me, and cute enough to earn +her way through a Ph. D. doing modelling. She had a laugh that would +melt a brass statue and which she used too much on Doc Napier, on our +chief, and even on grumpy old Captain Muller—but sometimes she used +it on me, when she wanted something. And I never did have much use for +a girl who was the strong independent type where there was a man to do +the dirty work, so that was okay.</p> + +<p>I suppose it was natural, with only two women among eighteen men for +month after month, but right then I probably liked Doc Napier less +than the captain, even. I pulled myself away from the corridor to +hydroponics, started for observation, and then went on into the +cubbyhole they gave me for a cabin. On the <i>Wahoo</i>, all a man could do +was sleep or sit around and think about murder.</p> + +<p>Well, I had nobody to blame but myself. I'd asked for the job when I +first heard Dr. Pietro had collected funds and priorities for a trip +to study Saturn's rings at close hand. And because I'd done some +technical work for him on the Moon, he figured he might as well take +me as any other good all-around mechanic and technician. He hadn't +asked me, though—that had been my own stupid idea.</p> + +<p>Paul Tremaine, self-cure expert! I'd picked up a nice phobia against +space when the super-liner <i>Lauri Ellu</i> cracked up with four hundred +passengers on my first watch as second engineer. I'd gotten free and +into a suit, but after they rescued me, it had taken two years on the +Moon before I could get up nerve for the shuttle back to Earth. And +after eight years home, I should have let well enough alone. If I'd +known anything about Pietro's expedition, I'd have wrapped myself in +my phobia and loved it.</p> + +<p>But I didn't know then that he'd done well with priorities and only +fair with funds. The best he could afford was the rental of the old +Earth-Mars-Venus triangle freighter. Naturally, when the <i>Wahoo's</i> +crew heard they were slated for what would be at least three years off +Earth without fancy bonus rates, they quit. Since nobody else would +sign on, Pietro had used his priorities to get an injunction that +forced them back aboard. He'd stuffed extra oxygen, water, food and +fertilizer on top of her regular supplies, then, filled her holds with +some top level fuel he'd gotten from a government assist, and set +out. And by the time I found out about it, my own contract was +iron-bound, and I was stuck.</p> + +<p>As an astrophysicist, Pietro was probably tops. As a man to run the +Lunar Observatory, he was a fine executive. But as a man to head up an +expedition into deep space, somebody should have given him back his +teething ring.</p> + +<p>Not that the <i>Wahoo</i> couldn't make the trip with the new fuel; she'd +been one of the early survey ships before they turned her into a +freighter. But she was meant for a crew of maybe six, on trips of a +couple of months. There were no game rooms, no lounges, no bar or +library—nothing but what had to be. The only thing left for most of +us aboard was to develop our hatreds of the petty faults of the +others. Even with a homogeneous and willing crew, it was a perfect +set-up for cabin fever, and we were as heterogeneous as they came.</p> + +<p>Naturally the crew hated the science boys after being impressed into +duty, and also took it out on the officers. The officers felt the same +about both other groups. And the scientists hated the officers and +crew for all the inconveniences of the old <i>Wahoo</i>. Me? I was in +no-man's land—technically in the science group, but without a pure +science degree; I had an officer's feelings left over from graduating +as an engineer on the ships; and I looked like a crewman.</p> + +<p>It cured my phobia, all right. After the first month out, I was too +disgusted to go into a fear funk. But I found out it didn't help a bit +to like space again and know I'd stay washed up as a spaceman.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>We'd been jinxed from the start. Two months out, the whole crew of +scientists came down with something Doc Napier finally diagnosed as +food poisoning; maybe he was right, since our group ate in our own +mess hall, and the crew and officers who didn't eat with us didn't get +it. Our astronomer, Bill Sanderson, almost died. I'd been lucky, but +then I never did react to things much. There were a lot of other small +troubles, but the next major trick had been fumes from the nuclear +generators getting up into our quarters—it was always our group that +had the trouble. If Eve Nolan hadn't been puttering with some of her +trick films at the time—she and Walt Harris had the so-called night +shift—and seen them blacken, we'd have been dead before they +discovered it. And it took us two weeks of bunking with the sullen +crew and decontamination before we could pick up life again. Engineer +Wilcox had been decent about helping with it, blaming himself. But it +had been a mess.</p> + +<p>Naturally, there were dark hints that someone was trying to get us; +but I couldn't see any crewman wiping us out just to return to Earth, +where our contract, with its completion clause, would mean he wouldn't +have a dime coming to him. Anyhow, the way things were going, we'd all +go berserk before we reached Saturn.</p> + +<p>The lunch gong sounded, but I let it ring. Bullard would be serving us +whole wheat biscuits and soup made out of beans he'd let soak until +they turned sour. I couldn't take any more of that junk, the way I +felt then. I heard some of the men going down the corridor, followed +by a confused rumble of voices. Then somebody let out a yell. "Hey, +<i>rooob</i>!"</p> + +<p>That meant something. The old yell spacemen had picked up from carney +people to rally their kind around against the foe. And I had a good +idea of who was the foe. I heard the yell bounce down the passage +again, and the slam of answering feet.</p> + +<p>Then the gravity field went off. Or rather, was cut off. We may have +missed the boat in getting anti-gravity, if there is such a thing, but +our artificial gravity is darned near foolproof.</p> + +<p>It was ten years since I'd moved in free fall, but Space Tech had done +a good job of training good habits. I got out of my bunk, hit the +corridor with a hand out, bounced, kicked, and dove toward the mess +hall without a falter. The crewmen weren't doing so well—but they +were coming up the corridor fast enough.</p> + +<p>I could have wrung Muller's neck. Normally, in case of trouble, +cutting gravity is smart. But not here, where the crew already wanted +a chance to commit mayhem, and had more experience than the +scientists.</p> + +<p>Yet, surprisingly, when I hit the mess hall ten feet ahead of the +deckhands, most of the scientists were doing all right. Hell, I should +have known Pietro, Sanderson and a couple others would be used to +no-grav; in astronomical work, you cut your eye teeth on that. They +were braced around the cook, who huddled back in a corner, while our +purser-steward, Sam, was still singing for help.</p> + +<p>The fat face of the cook was dead white. Bill Sanderson, looking like +a slim, blond ballet dancer and muscled like an apache expert, had him +in one hand and was stuffing the latest batch of whole wheat biscuits +down his throat. Bill's sister, Jenny, was giggling excitedly and +holding more biscuits.</p> + +<p>The deckhands and Grundy, the mate, were almost at the door, and I had +just time enough to slam it shut and lock it in their faces. I meant +to enjoy seeing the cook taken down without any interruption.</p> + +<p>Sam let out a final yell, and Bullard broke free, making a mess of it +without weight. He was sputtering out bits of the biscuit. Hal Lomax +reached out a big hand, stained with the chemicals that had been his +life's work, and pushed the cook back.</p> + +<p>And suddenly fat little Bullard switched from quaking fear to a blind +rage. The last of the biscuit sailed from his mouth and he spat at +Hal. "You damned hi-faluting black devil. You—<i>you</i> sneering at my +cooking. I'm a white man, I am—I don't have to work for no black +ni...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>I reached him first, though even Sam started for him then. You can +deliver a good blow in free-fall, if you know how. His teeth against +my knuckles stopped my leap, and the back of his head bounced off the +wall. He was unconscious as he drifted by us, moving upwards. My +knuckles stung, but it had been worth it. Anyhow, Jenny's look more +than paid for the trouble.</p> + +<p>The door shattered then, and the big hulk of Mate Grundy tumbled in, +with the two deckhands and the pair from the engine room behind him. +Sam let out a yell that sounded like protest, and they headed for +us—just as gravity came on.</p> + +<p>I pulled myself off the floor and out from under Bullard to see the +stout, oldish figure of Captain Muller standing in the doorway, with +Engineer Wilcox slouched easily beside him, looking like the typical +natty space officer you see on television. Both held gas guns.</p> + +<p>"All right, break it up!" Muller ordered. "You men get back to your +work. And you, Dr. Pietro—my contract calls for me to deliver you to +Saturn's moon, but it doesn't forbid me to haul you the rest of the +way in irons. I won't have this aboard my ship!"</p> + +<p>Pietro nodded, his little gray goatee bobbing, his lean body coming +upright smoothly. "Quite right, Captain. Nor does it forbid me to let +you and your men spend the sixteen months on the moon—where <i>I</i> +command—in irons. Why don't you ask Sam what happened before you make +a complete fool of yourself, Captain Muller?"</p> + +<p>Sam gulped and looked at the crew, but apparently Pietro was right; +the little guy had been completely disgusted by Bullard. He shrugged +apologetically. "Bullard insulted Dr. Lomax, sir. I yelled for someone +to help me get him out of here, and I guess everybody got all mixed up +when gravity went off, and Bullard cracked his head on the floor. Just +a misunderstanding, sir."</p> + +<p>Muller stood there, glowering at the cut on my knuckles, and I could +feel him aching for a good excuse to make his threat a reality. But +finally, he grunted and swung on his heel, ordering the crew with him. +Grundy threw us a final grimace and skulked off behind him. Finally +there was only Wilcox, who grinned, shrugged, and shut the door +quietly behind him. And we were left with the mess free-fall had made +of the place.</p> + +<p>I spotted Jenny heading across the room, carefully not seeing the +fatuous glances Pietro was throwing her way, and I swung in behind. +She nodded back at me, but headed straight for Lomax, with an odd look +on her face. When she reached him, her voice was low and businesslike.</p> + +<p>"Hal, what did those samples of Hendrix's show up?"</p> + +<p>Hendrix was the Farmer, in charge of the hydroponics that turned the +carbon dioxide we breathed out back to oxygen, and also gave us a bit +of fresh vegetables now and then. Technically, he was a crewman, just +as I was a scientist; but actually, he felt more like one of us.</p> + +<p>Lomax looked surprised. "What samples, Jenny? I haven't seen Hendrix +for two weeks."</p> + +<p>"You—" She stopped, bit her lip, and frowned. She swung on me. "Paul, +have you seen him?"</p> + +<p>I shook my head. "Not since last night. He was asking Eve and Walt to +wake him up early, then."</p> + +<p>"That's funny. He was worried about the plants yesterday and wanted +Hal to test the water and chemical fertilizer. I looked for him this +morning, but when he didn't show up, I thought he was with you, Hal. +And—the plants are dying!"</p> + +<p>"All of them?" The half smile wiped off Hal's face, and I could feel +my stomach hit my insteps. When anything happens to the plants in a +ship, it isn't funny.</p> + +<p>She shook her head again. "No—about a quarter of them. I was coming +for help when the fight started. They're all bleached out. And it +looks like—like chromazone!"</p> + +<p>That really hit me. They developed the stuff to fight off fungus on +Venus, where one part in a billion did the trick. But it was tricky +stuff; one part in ten-million would destroy the chlorophyll in +plants in about twenty hours, or the hemoglobin in blood in about +fifteen minutes. It was practically a universal poison.</p> + +<p>Hal started for the door, then stopped. He glanced around the room, +turned back to me, and suddenly let out a healthy bellow of seeming +amusement. Jenny's laugh was right in harmony. I caught the drift, and +tried to look as if we were up to some monkey business as we slipped +out of the room. Nobody seemed suspicious.</p> + +<p>Then we made a dash for hydroponics, toward the rear of the ship. We +scrambled into the big chamber together, and stopped. Everything +looked normal among the rows of plant-filled tanks, pipes and +equipment. Jenny led us down one of the rows and around a bend.</p> + +<p>The plants in the rear quarter weren't sick—they were dead. They were +bleached to a pale yellow, like boiled grass, and limp. Nothing would +save them now.</p> + +<p>"I'm a biologist, not a botanist—" Jenny began.</p> + +<p>Hal grunted sickly. "Yeah. And I'm not a life hormone expert. But +there's one test we can try."</p> + +<p>He picked up a pair of rubber gloves from a rack, and pulled off some +wilted stalks. From one of the healthy tanks, he took green leaves. He +mashed the two kinds together on the edge of a bench and watched. "If +it's chromazone, they've developed an enzyme by now that should eat +the color out of those others."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>In about ten seconds, I noticed the change. The green began to bleach +before my eyes.</p> + +<p>Jenny made a sick sound in her throat and stared at the rows of +healthy plants. "I checked the valves, and this sick section is +isolated. But—if chromazone got into the chemicals.... Better get your +spectroanalyzer out, Hal, while I get Captain Muller. Paul, be a dear +and find Hendrix, will you?"</p> + +<p>I shook my head, and went further down the rows. "No need, Jenny," I +called back. I pointed to the shoe I'd seen sticking out from the edge +of one of the tanks. There was a leg attached.</p> + +<p>I reached for it, but Lomax shoved me back. "Don't—the enzymes in the +corpse are worse than the poison, Paul. Hands off." He reached down +with the gloves and heaved. It was Hendrix, all right—a corpse with a +face and hands as white as human flesh could ever get. Even the lips +were bleached out.</p> + +<p>Jenny moaned. "The fool! The stupid fool. He <i>knew</i> it was dangerous +without gloves; he suspected chromazone, even though none's supposed +to be on board. And I warned him . . ."</p> + +<p>"Not against this, you didn't," I told her. I dropped to my knees and +took another pair of gloves. Hendrix's head rolled under my grasp. The +skull was smashed over the left eye, as if someone had taken a +sideswipe at Hendrix with a hammer. No fall had produced that. "You +should have warned him about his friends. Must have been killed, then +dumped in there."</p> + +<p>"Murder!" Hal bit the word out in disgust. "You're right, Paul. Not +too stupid a way to dispose of the body, either—in another couple of +hours, he'd have started dissolving in that stuff, and we'd never have +guessed it was murder. That means this poisoning of the plants wasn't +an accident. Somebody poisoned the water, then got worried when there +wasn't a report on the plants; must have been someone who thought it +worked faster on plants than it does. So he came to investigate, and +Hendrix caught him fooling around. So he got killed."</p> + +<p>"But who?" Jenny asked.</p> + +<p>I shrugged sickly. "Somebody crazy enough—or desperate enough to turn +back that he'll risk our air and commit murder. You'd better go after +the captain while Hal gets his test equipment. I'll keep watch here."</p> + +<p>It didn't feel good in hydroponics after they left. I looked at those +dead plants, trying to figure whether there were enough left to keep +us going. I studied Hendrix's body, trying to tell myself the murderer +had no reason to come back and try to get me.</p> + +<p>I reached for a cigarette, and then put the pack back. The air felt +almost as close as the back of my neck felt tense and unprotected. And +telling myself it was all imagination didn't help—not with what was +in that chamber to keep me company.</p> + + +<h2>II</h2> + +<p>Muller's face was like an iceberg when he came down—but only after he +saw Hendrix. Before then I'd caught the fat moon-calf expression on +his face, and I'd heard Jenny giggling. Damn it, they'd taken enough +time. Hal was already back, fussing over things with the hunk of tin +and lenses he treated like a newborn baby.</p> + +<p>Doc Napier came in behind them, but separately. I saw him glance at +them and look sick. Then both Muller and Napier began concentrating on +business. Napier bent his nervous, bony figure over the corpse, and +stood up almost at once. "Murder all right."</p> + +<p>"So I guessed, Dr. Napier," Muller growled heavily at him. "Wrap him +up and put him between hulls to freeze. We'll bury him when we land. +Tremaine, give a hand with it, will you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not a laborer, Captain Muller!" Napier protested. I started to +tell him where he could get off, too.</p> + +<p>But Jenny shook her head at us. "Please. Can't you see Captain Muller +is trying to keep too many from knowing about this? I should think +you'd be glad to help. Please?"</p> + +<p>Put that way, I guess it made sense. We found some rubber sheeting in +one of the lockers, and began wrapping Hendrix in it; it wasn't +pleasant, since he was beginning to soften up from the enzymes he'd +absorbed. "How about going ahead to make sure no one sees us?" I +suggested to Jenny.</p> + +<p>Muller opened his mouth, but Jenny gave one of her quick little laughs +and opened the door for us. Doc looked relieved. I guessed he was +trying to kid himself. Personally, I wasn't a fool—I was just hooked; +I knew perfectly well she was busy playing us off against one another, +and probably having a good time balancing the books. But hell, that's +the way life runs.</p> + +<p>"Get Pietro up here!" Muller fired after us. She laughed again, and +nodded. She went with us until we got to the 'tween-hulls lock, then +went off after the chief. She was back with him just as we finished +stuffing Hendrix through and sealing up again.</p> + +<p>Muller grunted at us when we got back, then turned to Lomax again. The +big chemist didn't look happy. He spread his hands toward us, and +hunched his shoulders. "A fifty-times over-dose of chromazone in those +tanks—fortunately none in the others. And I can't find a trace of it +in the fertilizer chemicals or anywhere else. Somebody deliberately +put it into those tanks."</p> + +<p>"Why?" Pietro asked. We'd filled him in with the rough details, but it +still made no sense to him.</p> + +<p>"Suppose you tell me, Dr. Pietro," Muller suggested. "Chromazone is a +poison most people never heard of. One of the new <i>scientific</i> +nuisances."</p> + +<p>Pietro straightened, and his goatee bristled. "If you're hinting . . ."</p> + +<p>"I am <i>not</i> hinting, Dr. Pietro. I'm telling you that I'm confining +your group to their quarters until we can clean up this mess, distil +the water that's contaminated, and replant. After that, if an +investigation shows nothing, I <i>may</i> take your personal bond for the +conduct of your people. Right now I'm protecting my ship."</p> + +<p>"But captain—" Jenny began.</p> + +<p>Muller managed a smile at her. "Oh, not you, of course, Jenny. I'll +need you here. With Hendrix gone, you're the closest thing we have to +a Farmer now."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Captain Muller," Pietro said sharply. "Captain, in the words of the +historical novelists—drop dead! Dr. Sanderson, I forbid you to leave +your quarters so long as anyone else is confined to his. I have ample +authority for that."</p> + +<p>"Under emergency powers—" Muller spluttered over it, and Pietro +jumped in again before he could finish.</p> + +<p>"Precisely, Captain. Under emergency situations, when passengers +aboard a commercial vessel find indications of total irresponsibility +or incipient insanity on the part of a ship's officer, they are +considered correct in assuming command for the time needed to protect +their lives. We were poisoned by food prepared in your kitchen, and +were nearly killed by radioactivity through a leak in the +engine-room—and no investigation was made. We are now confronted with +another situation aimed against our welfare—as the others were wholly +aimed at us—and you choose to conduct an investigation against our +group only. My only conclusion is that you wish to confine us to +quarters so we cannot find your motives for this last outrage. Paul, +will you kindly relieve the captain of his position?"</p> + +<p>They were both half right, and mostly wrong. Until it was proved that +our group was guilty, Muller couldn't issue an order that was +obviously discriminatory and against our personal safety in case there +was an attack directed on us. He'd be mustered out of space and into +the Lunar Cells for that. But on the other hand, the "safety for +passengers" clause Pietro was citing applied only in the case of +overt, direct and physical danger by an officer to normal passengers. +He might be able to weasel it through a court, or he might be found +guilty of mutiny. It left me in a pretty position.</p> + +<p>Jenny fluttered around. "Now, now—" she began.</p> + +<p>I cut her off. "Shut up, Jenny. And you two damned fools cool down. +Damn it, we've got an emergency here all right—we may not have air +plants enough to live on. Pietro, we can't run the ship—and neither +can Muller get through what's obviously a mess that may call for all +our help by confining us. Why don't you two go off and fight it out in +person?"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_003.jpg" width="400" height="596" alt="Illustration" /> +</div> + +<p>Surprisingly, Pietro laughed. "I'm afraid I'd put up a poor showing +against the captain, Paul. My apologies, Captain Muller."</p> + +<p>Muller hesitated, but finally took Pietro's hand, and dropped the +issue.</p> + +<p>"We've got enough plants," he said, changing the subject. "We'll have +to cut out all smoking and other waste of air. And I'll need Jenny to +work the hydroponics, with any help she requires. We've got to get +more seeds planted, and fast. Better keep word of this to ourselves. +We—"</p> + +<p>A shriek came from Jenny then. She'd been busy at one of the lockers +in the chamber. Now she began ripping others open and pawing through +things inside rubber-gloves. "Captain Muller! The seeds! The seeds!"</p> + +<p>Hal took one look, and his face turned gray.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Chromazone," he reported. "Every bag of seed has been filled with a +solution of chromazone! They're worthless!"</p> + +<p>"How long before the plants here will seed?" Muller asked sharply.</p> + +<p>"Three months," Jenny answered. "Captain Muller, what are we going to +do?"</p> + +<p>The dour face settled into grim determination. "The only sensible +thing. Take care of these plants, conserve the air, and squeeze by +until we can reseed. And, Dr. Pietro, with your permission, we'll turn +about for Earth at once. We can't go on like this. To proceed would be +to endanger the life of every man aboard."</p> + +<p>"Please, Danton." Jenny put her hand on Pietro's arm. "I know what +this all means to you, but—"</p> + +<p>Pietro shook her off. "It means the captain's trying to get out of the +expedition, again. It's five months back to Earth—more, by the time +we kill velocity. It's the same to Saturn. And either way, in five +months we've got this fixed up, or we're helpless. Permission to +return refused, Captain Muller."</p> + +<p>"Then if you'll be so good as to return to your own quarters," Muller +said, holding himself back with an effort that turned his face red, +"we'll start clearing this up. And not a word of this."</p> + +<p>Napier, Lomax, Pietro and I went back to the scientists' quarters, +leaving Muller and Jenny conferring busily. That was at fifteen +o'clock. At sixteen o'clock, Pietro issued orders against smoking.</p> + +<p>Dinner was at eighteen o'clock. We sat down in silence. I reached for +my plate without looking. And suddenly little Phil Riggs was on his +feet, raving. "Whole wheat! Nothing but whole wheat bread! I'm sick of +it—sick! I won't—"</p> + +<p>"Sit down!" I told him. I'd bitten into one of the rolls on the table. +It was white bread, and it was the best the cook had managed so far. +There was corn instead of baked beans, and he'd done a fair job of +making meat loaf. "Stop making a fool of yourself, Phil."</p> + +<p>He slumped back, staring at the white bun into which he'd bitten. +"Sorry. Sorry. It's this air—so stuffy. I can't breathe. I can't see +right—"</p> + +<p>Pietro and I exchanged glances, but I guess we weren't surprised. +Among intelligent people on a ship of that size, secrets wouldn't +keep. They'd all put bits together and got part of the answer. Pietro +shrugged, and half stood up to make an announcement.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Beg pardon, sirs." We jerked our heads around to see Bullard standing +in the doorway.</p> + +<p>He was scared stiff, and his words got stuck in his throat. Then he +found his voice again. "I heard as how Hendrix went crazy and poisoned +the plants and went and killed himself and we'll all die if we don't +find some trick, and what I want to know, please, sirs, is are what +they're saying right and you know all kinds of tricks and can you save +us because I can't go on like this not knowing and hearing them +talking outside the galley and none of them telling me—"</p> + +<p>Lomax cut into his flood of words. "You'll live, Bullard. Farmer +Hendrix did get killed in an accident to some of the plants, but we've +still got air enough. Captain Muller has asked the help of a few of +us, but it's only a temporary emergency."</p> + +<p>Bullard stared at him, and slowly some of the fear left his +face—though not all of it. He turned and left with a curt bow of his +head, while Pietro added a few details that weren't exactly lies to +Lomax's hasty cover-up, along with a grateful glance at the chemist. +It seemed to work, for the time being—at least enough for Riggs to +begin making nasty remarks about cooked paste.</p> + +<p>Then the tension began to build again. I don't think any of the crew +talked to any of our group. And yet, there seemed to be a chain of +rumor that exchanged bits of information. Only the crew could have +seen the dead plants being carried down to our refuse breakdown plant; +and the fact it was chromazone poisoning must have been deduced from a +description by some of our group. At any rate, both groups knew all +about it—and a little bit more, as was usual with rumors—by the +second day.</p> + +<p>Muller should have made the news official, but he only issued an +announcement that the danger was over. When Peters, our +radioman-navigator, found Sam and Phil Riggs smoking and dressed them +down, it didn't make Muller's words seem too convincing. I guessed +that Muller had other things on his mind; at least he wasn't in his +cabin much, and I didn't see Jenny for two whole days.</p> + +<p>My nerves were as jumpy as those of the rest. It isn't too bad cutting +out smoking; a man can stand imagining the air is getting stale; but +when every unconscious gesture toward cigarettes that aren't there +reminds him of the air, and when every imagined stale stench makes him +want a cigarette to relax, it gets a little rough.</p> + +<p>Maybe that's why I was in a completely rotten mood when I finally did +spot Jenny going down the passage, with the tight coveralls she was +wearing emphasizing every motion of her hips. I grabbed her and swung +her around. "Hi, stranger. Got time for a word?"</p> + +<p>She sort of brushed my hand off her arm, but didn't seem to mind it. +"Why, I guess so, Paul. A little time. Captain Muller's watching the +'ponics."</p> + +<p>"Good," I said, trying to forget Muller. "Let's make it a little more +private than this, though. Come on in."</p> + +<p>She lifted an eyebrow at the open door of my cabin, made with a little +giggle, and stepped inside. I followed her, and kicked the door shut. +She reached for it, but I had my back against it.</p> + +<p>"Paul!" She tried to get around me, but I wasn't having any. I pushed +her back onto the only seat in the room, which was the bunk. She got +up like a spring uncoiling. "Paul Tremaine, you open that door. You +know better than that. Paul, please!"</p> + +<p>"What makes me any different than the others? You spend plenty of time +in Muller's cabin—and you've been in Pietro's often enough. Probably +Doc Napier's, too!"</p> + +<p>Her eyes hardened, but she decided to try the patient and +reason-with-the-child line. "That is different. Captain Muller and I +have a great deal of business to work out."</p> + +<p>"Sure. And he looks great in lipstick!"</p> + +<p>It was a shot in the dark, but it went home. I wished I'd kept my +darned mouth shut; before I'd been suspecting it—now I knew. She +turned pink and tried to slap me, which won't work when the girl is +sitting on a bunk and I'm on my feet. "You mind your own business!"</p> + +<p>"I'm doing that. Generations should stick together, and he's old +enough to be your father!"</p> + +<p>She leaned back and studied me. Then she smiled slowly, and something +about it made me sick inside. "I like older men, Paul. They make +people my own age seem so callow, so unfinished. It's so comforting to +have mature people around. I always did have an Electra complex."</p> + +<p>"The Greeks had plenty of names for it, kid," I told her. "Don't get +me wrong. If you want to be a slut, that's your own business. But when +you pull the innocent act on me, and then fall back to sophomore +psychology—"</p> + +<p>This time she stood up before she slapped. Before her hand stung my +face, I was beginning to regret what I'd said. Afterwards, I didn't +give a damn. I picked her up off the floor, slapped her soundly on the +rump, pulled her tight against me, and kissed her. She tried +scratching my face, then went passive, and wound up with one arm +around my neck and the other in the hair at the back of my head. When +I finally put her down she sank back onto the bunk, breathing heavily.</p> + +<p>"Why, Paul!" And she reached out her arms as I came down to meet them. +For a second, the world looked pretty good.</p> + +<p>Then a man's hoarse scream cut through it all, with the sound of heavy +steps in panic flight. I jerked up. Jenny hung on. "Paul.... Paul...." +But there was the smell of death in the air, suddenly. I broke free +and was out into the corridor. The noise seemed to come from the shaft +that led to the engine room, and I jumped for it, while I heard doors +slam.</p> + +<p>This time, there was a commotion, like a wet sack being tossed around +in a pentagonal steel barrel, and another hoarse scream that cut off +in the middle to a gargling sound.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>I reached the shaft and started down the center rail, not bothering +with the hand-grips. I could hear something rustle below, followed by +silence, but I couldn't see a thing; the lights had been cut.</p> + +<p>I could feel things poking into my back before I landed; I always get +the creeps when there's death around, and that last sound had been +just that—somebody's last sound. I <i>knew</i> somebody was going to kill +me before I could find the switch. Then I stumbled over something, and +my hair stood on end. I guess my own yell was pretty horrible. It +scared me worse than I was already. But my fingers found the switch +somehow, and the light flashed on.</p> + +<p>Sam lay on the floor, with blood still running from a wide gash +across his throat. A big kitchen knife was still stuck in one end of +the horrible wound. And one of his fingers was half sliced off where +the blade of a switch-blade shiv had failed on him and snapped back.</p> + +<p>Something sounded above me, and I jerked back. But it was Captain +Muller, coming down the rail. The man had obviously taken it all in on +the way down. He jerked the switch-blade out of Sam's dead grasp and +looked at the point of the knife. There was blood further back from +the cut finger, but none on the point.</p> + +<p>"Damn!" Muller tossed it down in disgust. "If he'd scratched the other +man, we'd have had a chance to find who it was. Tremaine, have you got +an alibi?"</p> + +<p>"I was with Jenny," I told him, and watched his eyes begin to hate me. +But he nodded. We picked Sam up together and lugged his body up to the +top of the shaft, where the crowd had collected. Pietro, Peters, the +cook, Grundy and Lomax were there. Beyond them, the dark-haired, +almost masculine head of Eve Nolan showed, her eyes studying the body +of Sam as if it were a negative in her darkroom; as usual, Bill +Sanderson was as close to her as he could get. But there was no sign +now of Jenny. I glanced up the corridor but saw only Wilcox and Phil +Riggs, with Walt Harris trailing them, rubbing the sleep out of his +eyes.</p> + +<p>Muller moved directly to Pietro. "Six left in my crew now, Dr. Pietro. +First Hendrix, now Sam. Can you still say that the attack is on <i>your</i> +crew—when mine keep being killed? This time, sir, I demand . . ."</p> + +<p>"Give 'em hell, Captain," ape-man Grundy broke in. "Cut the fancy +stuff, and let's get the damned murdering rats!"</p> + +<p>Muller's eyes quartered him, spitted his carcass, and began turning +him slowly over a bed of coals. "Mister Grundy, I am master of the +<i>Wahoo</i>. I fail to remember asking for your piratical advice. Dr. +Pietro, I trust you will have no objections if I ask Mr. Peters to +investigate your section and group thoroughly?"</p> + +<p>"None at all, Captain Muller," Pietro answered. "I trust Peters. And I +feel sure you'll permit me to delegate Mr. Tremaine to inspect the +remainder of the ship?"</p> + +<p>Muller nodded curtly. "Certainly. Until the madman is found, we're all +in danger. And unless he is found, I insist I must protect my crew and +my ship by turning back to Earth."</p> + +<p>"I cannot permit that, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Your permission for that was not requested, Dr. Pietro! Yes, +Bullard?"</p> + +<p>The cook had been squirming and muttering to himself for minutes. Now +he darted out toward Grundy, and his finger pointed to Lomax. "He done +it! I seen him. Killed the only friend I had, he did. They went by my +galley—and—and he grabbed my big knife, that one there. And he +killed Sam."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"You're sure it was Lomax?" Muller asked sharply.</p> + +<p>"Sure I'm sure. Sam, he was acting queer lately. He was worried. Told +me he saw something, and he was going to know for sure. He borrowed my +switch-blade knife that my wife gave me. And he went out looking for +something. Then I heard him a-running, and I looked up, and there was +this guy, chasing him. Sure, I seen him with my own eyes."</p> + +<p>Eve Nolan chuckled throatily, throwing her mannish-cut hair back from +her face. She was almost pretty with an expression on her countenance, +even if it was amused disgust. "Captain Muller, that's a nice story. +But Dr. Lomax was with me in my darkroom, working on some +spectroanalysis slides. Bill Sanderson and Phil Riggs were waiting +outside for us. And Mr. Peters saw us come out together when we all +ran down here."</p> + +<p>Peters nodded. Muller stared at us for a second, and the hunting lust +died out of his eyes, leaving them blank and cold. He turned to +Bullard. "Bullard, an explanation might make me reduce your +punishment. If you have anything to say, say it now!"</p> + +<p>The cook was gibbering and actually drooling with fear. He shook, and +sweat popped out all over him. "My knife—I hadda say something. They +stole my knife. They wanted it to look like I done it. God, Captain, +you'da done the same. Can't punish a man for trying to save his life. +I'm a good man, I am. Can't whip a good man! Can't—"</p> + +<p>"Give him twenty-five lashes with the wire, Mr. Grundy," Muller said +flatly.</p> + +<p>Pietro let out a shriek on top of the cook's. He started forward, but +I caught him. "Captain Muller's right," I told him. "On a spaceship, +the full crew is needed. The brig is useless, so the space-enabling +charter recognizes flogging. Something is needed to maintain +discipline."</p> + +<p>Pietro dropped back reluctantly, but Lomax faced the captain. "The man +is a coward, hardly responsible, Captain Muller. I'm the wounded +party in this case, but it seems to me that hysteria isn't the same +thing as maliciousness. Suppose I ask for clemency?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Dr. Lomax," Muller said, and actually looked relieved. +"Make it ten lashes, Mr. Grundy. Apparently no real harm has been +done, and he will not testify in the future."</p> + +<p>Grundy began dragging Bullard out, muttering about damn fool +groundlubbers always sticking their noses in. The cook caught at +Lomax's hand on the way, literally slobbering over it. Lomax rubbed +his palm across his thigh, looking embarrassed.</p> + +<p>Muller turned back to us. "Very well. Mr. Peters will begin +investigating the expedition staff and quarters; Mr. Tremaine will +have free run over the rest of the ship. And if the murderer is not +turned up in forty-eight hours, we head back to Earth!"</p> + +<p>Pietro started to protest again, but another scream ripped down the +corridor, jerking us all around. It was Jenny, running toward us. She +was breathing hoarsely as she nearly crashed into Dr. Pietro.</p> + +<p>Her face was white and sick, and she had to try twice before she could +speak.</p> + +<p>"The plants!" she gasped out. "Poison! They're dying!"</p> + + +<h2>III</h2> + +<p>It was chromazone again. Muller had kept most of the gang from coming +back to hydroponics, but he, Jenny, Pietro, Wilcox and myself were +enough to fill the room with the smell of sick fear. Now less than +half of the original space was filled with healthy plants. Some of the +tanks held plants already dead, and others were dying as we watched; +once beyond a certain stage, the stuff acted almost instantly—for +hours there was only a slight indication of something wrong, and then +suddenly there were the dead, bleached plants.</p> + +<p>Wilcox was the first to speak. He still looked like some nattily +dressed hero of a space serial, but his first words were ones that +could never have gone out on a public broadcast. Then he shrugged. +"They must have been poisoned while we were all huddled over Sam's +body. Who wasn't with us?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," Pietro denied. "This was done at least eighteen hours ago, +maybe more. We'd have to find who was around then."</p> + +<p>"Twenty hours, or as little as twelve," Jenny amended. "It depends on +the amount of the dosage, to some extent. And...." She almost managed +to blush. "Well, there have been a lot of people around. I can't even +remember. Mr. Grundy and one of the men, Mr. Wilcox, Dr. Napier—oh, I +don't know!"</p> + +<p>Muller shook his head in heavy agreement. "Naturally. We had a lot of +work to do here. After word got around about Hendrix, we didn't try to +conceal much. It might have happened when someone else was watching, +too. The important thing, gentlemen, is that now we don't have reserve +enough to carry us to Saturn. The plants remaining can't handle the +air for all of us. And while we ship some reserve oxygen...."</p> + +<p>He let it die in a distasteful shrug. "At least this settles one +thing. We have no choice now but to return to Earth!"</p> + +<p>"Captain Muller," Pietro bristled quickly, "that's getting to be a +monomania with you. I agree we are in grave danger. I don't relish the +prospect of dying any more than you do—perhaps less, in view of +certain peculiarities! But it's now further back to Earth than it is +to Saturn. And before we can reach either, we'll have new plants—or +we'll be dead!"</p> + +<p>"Some of us will be dead, Dr. Pietro," Wilcox amended it. "There are +enough plants left to keep some of us breathing indefinitely."</p> + +<p>Pietro nodded. "And I suppose, in our captain's mind, that means the +personnel of the ship can survive. Captain Muller, I must regard your +constant attempt to return to Earth as highly suspicious in view of +this recurrent sabotage of the expedition. Someone here is apparently +either a complete madman or so determined to get back that he'll +resort to anything to accomplish his end. And you have been harping on +returning over and over again!"</p> + +<p>Muller bristled, and big heavy fist tightened. Then he drew himself up +to his full dumpy height. "Dr. Pietro," he said stiffly, "I am as +responsible to my duties as any man here—and my duties involve +protecting the life of every man and woman on board; if you wish to +return, I shall be <i>most</i> happy to submit this to a formal board of +inquiry. I—"</p> + +<p>"Just a minute," I told them. "You two are forgetting that we've got a +problem here. Damn it, I'm sick of this fighting among ourselves. +We're a bunch of men in a jam, not two camps at war now. I can't see +any reason why Captain Muller would want to return that badly."</p> + +<p>Muller nodded slightly. "Thank you, Mr. Tremaine. However, for the +record, and to save you trouble investigating there is a good reason. +My company is now building a super-liner; if I were to return within +the next six months, they'd promote me to captain of that ship—a +considerable promotion, too."</p> + +<p>For a moment, his honesty seemed to soften Pietro. The scientist +mumbled some sort of apology, and turned to the plants. But it +bothered me; if Muller had pulled something, the smartest thing he +could have done would be to have said just what he did.</p> + +<p>Besides, knowing that Pietro's injunction had robbed him of a chance +like that was enough to rankle in any man's guts and make him work up +something pretty close to insanity. I marked it down in my mental +files for the investigation I was supposed to make, but let it go for +the moment.</p> + +<p>Muller stood for a minute longer, thinking darkly about the whole +situation. Then he moved toward the entrance to hydroponics and pulled +out the ship speaker mike. "All hands and passengers will assemble in +hydroponics within five minutes," he announced. He swung toward +Pietro. "With your permission, Doctor," he said caustically.</p> + +<p>The company assembled later looked as sick as the plants. This time, +Muller was hiding nothing. He outlined the situation fully; maybe he +shaded it a bit to throw suspicion on our group, but in no way we +could pin down. Finally he stated flatly that the situation meant +almost certain death for at least some of those aboard.</p> + +<p>"From now on, there'll be a watch kept. This is closed to everyone +except myself, Dr. Pietro, Mr. Peters, and Dr. Jenny Sanderson. At +least one of us will be here at all times, equipped with gas guns. +Anyone else is to be killed on setting foot inside this door!" He +swung his eyes over the group. "Any objections?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Grundy stirred uncomfortably. "I don't go for them science guys up here. +Takes a crazy man to do a thing like this, and everybody knows...."</p> + +<p>Eve Nolan laughed roughly. "Everybody knows you've been swearing you +won't go the whole way, Grundy. These jungle tactics should be right +up your alley."</p> + +<p>"That's enough," Muller cut through the beginnings of the hassle. "I +trust those I appointed—at least more than I do the rest of you. The +question now is whether to return to Earth at once or to go on to +Saturn. We can't radio for help for months yet. We're not equipped +with sharp beams, we're low powered, and we're off the lanes where +Earth's pick-ups hunt. Dr. Pietro wants to go on, since we can't get +back within our period of safety; I favor returning, since there is no +proof that this danger will end with this outrage. We've agreed to let +the result of a vote determine it."</p> + +<p>Wilcox stuck up a casual hand, and Muller nodded to him. He grinned +amiably at all of us. "There's a third possibility, Captain. We can +reach Jupiter in about three months, if we turn now. It's offside, but +closer than anything else. From there, on a fast liner, we can be back +on Earth in another ten days."</p> + +<p>Muller calculated, while Peters came up to discuss it. Then he nodded. +"Saturn or Jupiter, then. I'm not voting, of course. Bullard is +disqualified to vote by previous acts." He drew a low moan from the +sick figure of Bullard for that, but no protest. Then he nodded. "All +those in favor of Jupiter, your right hands please!"</p> + +<p>I counted them, wondering why my own hand was still down. It made some +sort of sense to turn aside now. But none of our group was voting—and +all the others had their hands up, except for Dr. Napier. "Seven," +Muller announced. "Those in favor of Saturn."</p> + +<p>Again, Napier didn't vote. I hesitated, then put my hand up. It was +crazy, and Pietro was a fool to insist. But I knew that he'd never get +another chance if this failed, and....</p> + +<p>"Eight," Muller counted. He sighed, then straightened. "Very well, we +go on. Dr. Pietro, you will have my full support from now on. In +return, I'll expect every bit of help in meeting this emergency. Mr. +Tremaine was correct; we cannot remain camps at war."</p> + +<p>Pietro's goatee bobbed quickly, and his hand went out. But while most +of the scientists were nodding with him, I caught the dark scowl of +Grundy, and heard the mutters from the deckhands and the engine men. +If Muller could get them to cooperate, he was a genius.</p> + +<p>Pietro faced us, and his face was serious again. "We can hasten the +seeding of the plants a little, I think, by temperature and +light-and-dark cycle manipulations. Unfortunately, these aren't +sea-algae plants, or we'd be in comparatively little trouble. That was +my fault in not converting. We can, however, step up their efficiency +a bit. And I'm sure we can find some way to remove the carbon dioxide +from the air."</p> + +<p>"How about oxygen to breathe?" Peters asked.</p> + +<p>"That's the problem," Pietro admitted. "I was wondering about +electrolyzing water."</p> + +<p>Wilcox bobbed up quickly. "Can you do it on AC current?"</p> + +<p>Lomax shook his head. "It takes DC."</p> + +<p>"Then that's out. We run on 220 AC. And while I can rectify a few +watts, it wouldn't be enough to help. No welders except monatomic +hydrogen torches, even."</p> + +<p>Pietro looked sicker than before. He'd obviously been counting on +that. But he turned to Bullard. "How about seeds? We had a crop of +tomatoes a month ago—and from the few I had, they're all seed. Are +any left?"</p> + +<p>Bullard rocked from side to side, moaning. "Dead. We're all gonna be +dead. I told him, I did, you take me out there, I'll never get back. +I'm a good man, I am. I wasn't never meant to die way out here. +I—I—"</p> + +<p>He gulped and suddenly screamed. He went through the door at an +awkward shuffle, heading for his galley. Muller shook his head, and +turned toward me. "Check up, will you, Mr. Tremaine? And I suggest +that you and Mr. Peters start your investigation at once. I understand +that chromazone would require so little hiding space that there's no +use searching for it. But if you can find any evidence, report it at +once."</p> + +<p>Peters and I left. I found the galley empty. Apparently Bullard had +gone to lie on his stomach in his bunk and nurse his terror. I found +the freezer compartments, though—and the tomatoes. There must have +been a bushel of them, but Bullard had followed his own peculiar +tastes. From the food he served, he couldn't stand fresh vegetables; +and he'd cooked the tomatoes down thoroughly and run them through the +dehydrator before packing them away!</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was a cheerful supper, that one! Bullard had half-recovered and his +fear was driving him to try to be nice to us. The selection was good, +beyond the inevitable baked beans; but he wasn't exactly a chef at +best, and his best was far behind him. Muller had brought Wilcox, +Napier and Peters down to our mess with himself, to consolidate +forces, and it seemed that he was serious about cooperating. But it +was a little late for that.</p> + +<p>Overhead, the fans had been stepped up to counteract the effect of +staleness our minds supplied. But the whine of the motors kept +reminding us our days were counted. Only Jenny was normal; she sat +between Muller and Pietro, where she could watch my face and that of +Napier. And even her giggles had a forced sound.</p> + +<p>There were all kinds of things we could do—in theory. But we didn't +have that kind of equipment. The plain fact was that the plants were +going to lose the battle against our lungs. The carbon dioxide would +increase, speeding up our breathing, and making us all seem to +suffocate. The oxygen would grow thinner and thinner, once our +supplies of bottled gas ran out. And eventually, the air wouldn't +support life.</p> + +<p>"It's sticky and hot," Jenny complained, suddenly.</p> + +<p>"I stepped up the humidity and temperature controls," I told her. She +nodded in quick comprehension, but I went on for Muller's benefit. +"Trying to give the plants the best growing atmosphere. We'll feel +just as hot and sticky when the carbon dioxide goes up, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"It must already be up," Wilcox said. "My two canaries are breathing +faster."</p> + +<p>"Canaries," Muller said. He frowned, though he must have known of +them. It was traditional to keep them in the engine-room, though the +reason behind it had long since been lost. "Better kill them, Mr. +Wilcox."</p> + +<p>Wilcox jerked, and his face paled a bit. Then he nodded. "Yes, sir!"</p> + +<p>That was when I got scared. The idea that two birds breathing could +hurt our chances put things on a little too vivid a basis. Only Lomax +seemed unaffected. He shoved back now, and stood up.</p> + +<p>"Some tests I have to make, Captain. I have an idea that might turn up +the killer among us!"</p> + +<p>I had an idea he was bluffing, but I kept my mouth shut. A bluff was +as good as anything else, it seemed.</p> + +<p>At least, it was better than anything I seemed able to do. I prowled +over the ship, sometimes meeting Peters doing the same, but I couldn't +find a bit of evidence. The crewmen sat watching with hating eyes. And +probably the rest aboard hated and feared us just as much. It wasn't +hard to imagine the man who was behind it all deciding to wipe one of +us out. My neck got a permanent crimp from keeping one eye behind me. +But there wasn't a shred of evidence I could find.</p> + +<p>In two more days, we began to notice the stuffiness more. My breathing +went up enough to notice. Somehow, I couldn't get a full breath. And +the third night, I woke up in the middle of my sleep with the feeling +something was sitting on my chest; but since I'd taken to sleeping +with the light on, I saw that it was just the stuffiness that was +bothering me. Maybe most of it had been psychological up until then. +But that was the real thing.</p> + +<p>The nice part of it was that it wouldn't be sudden—we'd have days to +get closer and closer to death; and days for each one to realize a +little more that every man who wasn't breathing would make it that +much easier for the rest of us. I caught myself thinking of it when I +saw Bullard or Grundy.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Then trouble struck again. I was late getting to the scene this time, +down by the engine room. Muller and Bill Sanderson were ahead of me, +trying to separate Hal Lomax and Grundy, and not doing so well. Lomax +brought up a haymaker as I arrived, and started to shout something. +But Grundy was out of Muller's grasp, and up, swinging a wrench. It +connected with a dull thud, and Lomax hit the floor, unconscious.</p> + +<p>I picked Grundy up by the collar of his jacket, heaved him around and +against a wall, where I could get my hand against his esophagus and +start squeezing. His eyeballs popped, and the wrench dropped from his +hands. When I get mad enough to act that way, I usually know I'll +regret it later. This time it felt good, all the way. But Muller +pushed me aside, waiting until Grundy could breathe again.</p> + +<p>"All right," Muller said. "I hope you've got a good explanation, +before I decide what to do with you."</p> + +<p>Grundy's eyes were slitted, as if he'd been taking some of the Venus +drugs. But after one long, hungry look at me, he faced the captain. +"Yes, sir. This guy came down here ahead of me. Didn't think nothing +of it, sir. But when he started fiddling with the panel there, I got +suspicious." He pointed to the external control panel for the engine +room, to be used in case of accidents. "With all that's been going on, +how'd I know but maybe he was gonna dump the fuel? And then I seen he +had keys. I didn't wait, sir. I jumped him. And then you come up."</p> + +<p>Wilcox came from the background and dropped beside the still figure of +Lomax. He opened the man's left hand and pulled out a bunch of keys, +examining them. "Engine keys, Captain Muller. Hey—it's my set! He +must have lifted them from my pocket. It looks as if Grundy's found +our killer!"</p> + +<p>"Or Lomax found him!" I pointed out. "Anybody else see this start, or +know that Lomax didn't get those keys away from Grundy, when <i>he</i> +started trouble?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you—" Grundy began, but Wilcox cut off his run. It was a shame. +I still felt like pushing the man's Adam's apple through his medulla +oblongata.</p> + +<p>"Lock them both up, until Dr. Lomax comes to," Muller ordered. "And +send Dr. Napier to take care of him. I'm not jumping to any +conclusions." But the look he was giving Lomax indicated that he'd +already pretty well made up his mind. And the crew was positive. They +drew back sullenly, staring at us like animals studying a human +hunter, and they didn't like it when Peters took Grundy to lock him +into his room. Muller finally chased them out, and left Wilcox and me +alone.</p> + +<p>Wilcox shrugged wryly, brushing dirt off his too-clean uniform. "While +you're here, Tremaine, why not look my section over? You've been +neglecting me."</p> + +<p>I'd borrowed Muller's keys and inspected the engine room from, top to +bottom the night before, but I didn't mention that. I hesitated now; +to a man who grew up to be an engineer and who'd now gotten over his +psychosis against space too late to start over, the engines were +things better left alone. Then I remembered that I hadn't seen +Wilcox's quarters, since he had the only key to them.</p> + +<p>I nodded and went inside. The engines were old, and the gravity +generator was one of the first models. But Wilcox knew his business. +The place was slick enough, and there was the good clean smell of +metal working right. I could feel the controls in my hands, and my +nerves itched as I went about making a perfunctory token examination. +I even opened the fuel lockers and glanced in. The two crewmen watched +with hard eyes, slitted as tight as Grundy's, but they didn't bother +me. Then I shrugged, and went back with Wilcox to his tiny cabin.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>I was hit by the place before I got inside. Tiny, yes, but fixed up +like the dream of every engineer. Clean, neat, filled with books and +luxuries. He even had a tape player I'd seen on sale for a trifle over +three thousand dollars. He turned it on, letting the opening bars of +Haydn's Oxford Symphony come out. It was a binaural, ultra-fidelity +job, and I could close my eyes and feel the orchestra in front of me.</p> + +<p>This time I was thorough, right down the line, from the cabinets that +held luxury food and wine to the little drawer where he kept his +dress-suit studs; they might have been rutiles, but I had a hunch they +were genuine catseyes.</p> + +<p>He laughed when I finished, and handed me a glass of the first decent wine +I'd tasted in months. "Even a small ozonator to make the air seem more +breathable, and a dehumidifier, Tremaine. I like to live decently. I +started saving my money once with the idea of getting a ship of my own—" +There was a real dream in his eyes for a second. Then he shrugged. "But +ships got bigger and more expensive. So I decided to live. At forty, I've +got maybe twenty years ahead here, and I mean to enjoy it. And—well, +there are ways of making a bit extra...."</p> + +<p>I nodded. So it's officially smuggling to carry a four-ounce Martian +fur to Earth where it's worth a fortune, considering the legal duty. +But most officers did it now and then. He put on Sibelius' Fourth +while I finished the wine. "If this mess is ever over, Paul, or you +get a chance, drop down," he said. "I like a man who knows good +things—and I liked your reaction when you spotted that Haydn for +Hohmann's recording. Muller pretends to know music, but he likes the +flashiness of Möhlwehr."</p> + +<p>Hell, I'd cut my eye teeth on that stuff; my father had been first +violinist in an orchestra, and had considered me a traitor when I was +born without perfect pitch. We talked about Sibelius for awhile, +before I left to go out into the stinking rest of the ship. Grundy was +sitting before the engines, staring at them. Wilcox had said the big +ape liked to watch them move ... but he was supposed to be locked up.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>I stopped by Lomax's door; the shutter was open, and I could see the +big man writhing about, but he was apparently unconscious. Napier came +back from somewhere, and nodded quickly.</p> + +<p>"Concussion," he said. "He's still out, but it shouldn't be too +serious."</p> + +<p>"Grundy's loose." I'd expected surprise, but there was none. "Why?"</p> + +<p>He shrugged. "Muller claimed he needed his mate free to handle the +crew, and that there was no place the man could go. I think it was +because the men are afraid they'll be outnumbered by your group." His +mouth smiled, but it was suddenly bitter. "Jenny talked Pietro into +agreeing with Muller."</p> + +<p>Mess was on when I reached the group. I wasn't hungry. The wine had +cut the edge from my appetite, and the slow increase of poison in the +air was getting me, as it was the others. Sure, carbon dioxide isn't a +real poison—but no organism can live in its own waste, all the same. +I had a rotten headache. I sat there playing a little game I'd +invented—trying to figure which ones I'd eliminate if some had to +die. Jenny laughed up at Muller, and I added him to the list. Then I +changed it, and put her in his place. I was getting sick of the little +witch, though I knew it would be different if she'd been laughing up +at me. And then, because of the sick-calf look on Bill Sanderson's +face as he stared at Eve, I added him, though I'd always liked the +guy. Eve, surprisingly, had as many guys after her as Jenny; but she +didn't seem interested. Or maybe she did—she'd pulled her hair back +and put on a dress that made her figure look good. Either flattery was +working, or she was entering into the last-days feeling most of us +had.</p> + +<p>Napier came in and touched my shoulder. "Lomax is conscious, and he's +asking for you," he said, too low for the others to hear.</p> + +<p>I found the chemist conscious, all right, but sick—and scared. His +face winced, under all the bandages, as I opened the door. Then he saw +who it was, and relaxed. "Paul—what happened to me? The last I +remember is going up to see that second batch of plants poisoned. +But—well, this is something I must have got later...."</p> + +<p>I told him, as best I could. "But don't you remember anything?"</p> + +<p>"Not a thing about that. It's the same as Napier told me, and I've +been trying to remember. Paul, you don't think—?"</p> + +<p>I put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back gently. "Don't be a +damned fool, Hal. I know you're no killer."</p> + +<p>"But somebody is, Paul. Somebody tried to kill me while I was +unconscious!"</p> + +<p>He must have seen my reaction. "They did, Paul. I don't know how I +know—maybe I almost came to—but somebody tried to poke a stick +through the door with a knife on it. They want to kill me."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_004.jpg" width="400" height="589" alt="Illustration" /> +</div> + +<p>I tried to calm him down until Napier came and gave him a sedative. +The doctor seemed as sick about Hal's inability to remember as I was, +though he indicated it was normal enough in concussion cases. "So is +the hallucination," he added. "He'll be all right tomorrow."</p> + +<p>In that, Napier was wrong. When the doctor looked in on him the next +time, the big chemist lay behind a door that had been pried open, with +a long galley knife through his heart. On the bloody sheet, his finger +had traced something in his own blood.</p> + +<p>"<i>It was</i>...." But the last "s" was blurred, and there was nothing +more.</p> + + +<h2>IV</h2> + +<p>I don't know how many were shocked at Hal's death, or how many looked +around and counted one less pair of lungs. He'd never been one of the +men I'd envied the air he used, though, and I think most felt the +same. For awhile, we didn't even notice that the air was even thicker.</p> + +<p>Phil Riggs broke the silence following our inspection of Lomax's +cabin. "That damned Bullard! I'll get him, I'll get him as sure as he +got Hal!"</p> + +<p>There was a rustle among the others, and a suddenly crystallized hate +on their faces. But Muller's hoarse shout cut through the babble that +began, and rose over even the anguished shrieking of the cook. "Shut +up, the lot of you! Bullard couldn't have committed the other crimes. +Any one of you is a better suspect. Stop snivelling, Bullard, this +isn't a lynching mob, and it isn't going to be one!"</p> + +<p>"What about Grundy?" Walt Harris yelled.</p> + +<p>Wilcox pushed forward. "Grundy couldn't have done it. He's the logical +suspect, but he was playing rummy with my men."</p> + +<p>The two engine men nodded agreement, and we began filing back to the +mess hall, with the exception of Bullard, who shoved back into a +niche, trying to avoid us. Then, when we were almost out of his sight, +he let out a shriek and came blubbering after us.</p> + +<p>I watched them put Hal Lomax's body through the 'tween-hulls lock, and +turned toward the engine room; I could use some of that wine, just as +the ship could have used a trained detective. But the idea of watching +helplessly while the engines purred along to remind me I was just a +handyman for the rest of my life got mixed up with the difficulty of +breathing the stale air, and I started to turn back. My head was +throbbing, and for two cents I'd have gone out between the hulls +beside Lomax and the others and let the foul air spread out there and +freeze....</p> + +<p>The idea was slow coming. Then I was running back toward the engines. +I caught up with Wilcox just before he went into his own quarters. +"Wilcox!"</p> + +<p>He swung around casually, saw it was me, and motioned inside. "How +about some Bartok, Paul? Or would you rather soothe your nerves with +some first-rate Buxtehude organ...."</p> + +<p>"Damn the music," I told him. "I've got a wild idea to get rid of this +carbon dioxide, and I want to know if we can get it working with what +we've got."</p> + +<p>He snapped to attention at that. Half-way through my account, he +fished around and found a bottle of Armagnac. "I get it. If we pipe +our air through the passages between the hulls on the shadow side, it +will lose its heat in a hurry. And we can regulate its final +temperature by how fast we pipe it through—just keep it moving enough +to reach the level where carbon dioxide freezes out, but the oxygen +stays a gas. Then pass it around the engines—we'll have to cut out +the normal cooling set-up, but that's okay—warm it up.... Sure, I've +got equipment enough for that. We can set it up in a day. Of course, +it won't give us any more oxygen, but we'll be able to breathe what we +have. To success, Paul!"</p> + +<p>I guess it was good brandy, but I swallowed mine while calling Muller +down, and never got to taste it.</p> + +<p>It's surprising how much easier the air got to breathe after we'd +double-checked the idea. In about fifteen minutes, we were all milling +around in the engine room, while Wilcox checked through equipment. But +there was no question about it. It was even easier than we'd thought. +We could simply bypass the cooling unit, letting the engine housings +stay open to the between-hulls section; then it was simply a matter of +cutting a small opening into that section at the other end of the ship +and installing a sliding section to regulate the amount of air flowing +in. The exhaust from the engine heat pumps was reversed, and run out +through a hole hastily knocked in the side of the wall.</p> + +<p>Naturally, we let it flow too fast at first. Space is a vacuum, which +means it's a good insulator. We had to cut the air down to a trickle. +Then Wilcox ran into trouble because his engines wouldn't cool with +that amount of air. He went back to supervise a patched-up job of +splitting the coolers into sections, which took time. But after that, +we had it.</p> + +<p>I went through the hatch with Muller and Pietro. With air there there +was no need to wear space suits, but it was so cold that we could take +it for only a minute or so. That was long enough to see a faint, fine +mist of dry ice snow falling. It was also long enough to catch a sight +of the three bodies there. I didn't enjoy that, and Pietro gasped. +Muller grimaced. When we came back, he sent Grundy in to move the +bodies to a hull-section where our breathing air wouldn't pass over +them. It wasn't necessary, of course. But somehow, it seemed +important.</p> + +<p>By lunch, the air seemed normal. We shipped only pure oxygen at about +three pounds pressure, instead of loading it with a lot of useless +nitrogen. With the carbon dioxide cut back to normal levels, it was as +good as ever. The only difference was that the fans had to be set to +blow in a different pattern. We celebrated, and even Bullard seemed to +have perked up. He dug out pork chops and almost succeeded in making +us cornbread out of some coarse flour I saw him pouring out of the +food chopper. He had perked up enough to bewail the fact that all he +had was canned spinach instead of turnip greens.</p> + +<p>But by night, the temper had changed—and the food indicated it again. +Bullard's cooking was turning into a barometer of the psychic +pressure. We'd had time to realize that we weren't getting something +for nothing. Every molecule of carbon-dioxide that crystallized out +took two atoms of oxygen with it, completely out of circulation.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>We were also losing water-vapor, we found; normally, any one of our +group knew enough science to know that the water would fall out before +the carbon dioxide, but we hadn't thought of it. We took care of that, +however, by having Wilcox weld in a baffle and keep the section where +the water condensed separate from the carbon dioxide snowfall. We +could always shovel out the real ice, and meantime the ship's controls +restored the moisture to the air easily enough.</p> + +<p>But there was nothing we could do about the oxygen. When that was +gone, it stayed gone. The plants still took care of about two-thirds +of our waste—but the other third was locked out there between the +hulls. Given plants enough, we could have thawed it and let them +reconvert it; a nice idea, except that we had to wait three months to +take care of it, if we lived that long.</p> + +<p>Bullard's cooking began to get worse. Then suddenly, we got one good +meal. Eve Nolan came down the passage to announce that Bullard was +making cake, with frosting, canned huckleberry pie, and all the works. +We headed for the mess hall, fast.</p> + +<p>It was the cook's masterpiece. Muller came down late, though, and +regarded it doubtfully. "There's something funny," he said as he +settled down beside me. Jenny had been surrounded by Napier and +Pietro. "Bullard came up babbling a few minutes ago. I don't like it. +Something about eating hearty, because he'd saved us all, forever and +ever. He told me the angels were on our side, because a beautiful +angel with two halos came to him in his sleep and told him how to save +us. I chased him back to the galley, but I don't like it."</p> + +<p>Most of them had already eaten at least half of the food, but I saw +Muller wasn't touching his. The rest stopped now, as the words sank +in, and Napier looked shocked. "No!" he said, but his tone wasn't +positive. "He's a weakling, but I don't think he's insane—not enough +to poison us."</p> + +<p>"There was that food poisoning before," Pietro said suddenly. "Paul, +come along. And don't eat anything until we come back."</p> + +<p>We broke the record getting to the galley. There Bullard sat, beaming +happily, eating from a huge plate piled with the food he had cooked. I +checked on it quickly—and there wasn't anything he'd left out. He +looked up, and his grin widened foolishly.</p> + +<p>"Hi, docs," he said. "Yes, sir, I knowed you'd be coming. It all came +to me in a dream. Looked just like my wife twenty years ago, she did, +with green and yellow halos. And she told it to me. Told me I'd been a +good man, and nothing was going to happen to me. Not to good old Emery +Bullard. Had it all figgered out."</p> + +<p>He speared a big forkful of food and crammed it into his mouth, +munching noisily. "Had it all figgered. Pop-corn. Best damned pop-corn +you ever saw, kind they raise not fifty miles from where I was born. +You know, I didn't useta like you guys. But now I love everybody. When +we get to Saturn, I'm gonna make up for all the times I didn't give +you pop-corn. We'll pop and we'll pop. And beans, too. I useta hate +beans. Always beans on a ship. But now we're saved, and I love +beans!"</p> + +<p>He stared after us, half coming out of his seat. "Hey, docs, ain't you +gonna let me tell you about it?"</p> + +<p>"Later, Bullard," Pietro called back. "Something just came up. We want +to hear all about it."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Inside the mess hall, he shrugged. "He's eating the food himself. If +he's crazy, he's in a happy stage of it. I'm sure he isn't trying to +poison us." He sat down and began eating, without any hesitation.</p> + +<p>I didn't feel as sure, and suspected he didn't. But it was too late to +back out. Together, we summarized what he'd told us, while Napier +puzzled over it. Finally the doctor shrugged. "Visions. Euphoria. +Disconnection with reality. Apparently something of a delusion that +he's to save the world. I'm not a psychiatrist, but it sounds like +insanity to me. Probably not dangerous. At least, while he wants to +save us, we won't have to worry about the food. Still...."</p> + +<p>Wilcox mulled it over, and resumed the eating he had neglected before.</p> + +<p>"Grundy claimed he'd been down near the engine room, trying to get +permission to pop something in the big pile. I thought Grundy was just +getting his stories mixed up. But—pop-corn!"</p> + +<p>"I'll have him locked in his cabin," Muller decided. He picked up the +nearest handset, saw that it was to the galley, and switched quickly. +"Grundy, lock Bullard up. And no rough stuff this time." Then he +turned to Napier. "Dr. Napier, you'll have to see him and find out +what you can."</p> + +<p>I guess there's a primitive fear of insanity in most of us. We felt +sick, beyond the nagging worry about the food. Napier got up at once. +"I'll give him a sedative. Maybe it's just nerves, and he'll snap out +of it after a good sleep. Anyhow, your mate can stand watching."</p> + +<p>"Who can cook?" Muller asked. His eyes swung down the table toward +Jenny.</p> + +<p>I wondered how she'd get out of that. Apparently she'd never told +Muller about the scars she still had from spilled grease, and how +she'd never forgiven her mother or been able to go near a kitchen +since. But I should have guessed. She could remember my stories, too. +Her eyes swung up toward mine pleadingly.</p> + +<p>Eve Nolan stood up suddenly. "I'm not only a good cook, but I enjoy +it," she stated flatly, and there was disgust in the look she threw at +Jenny. She swung toward me. "How about it, Paul, can you wrestle the +big pots around for me?"</p> + +<p>"I used to be a short order cook when I was finishing school," I told +her. But she'd ruined the line. The grateful look and laugh from Jenny +weren't needed now. And curiously, I felt grateful to Eve for it. I +got up and went after Napier.</p> + +<p>I found him in Bullard's little cubbyhole of a cabin. He must have +chased Grundy off, and now he was just drawing a hypo out of the +cook's arm. "It'll take the pain away," he was saying softly. "And +I'll see that he doesn't hit you again. You'll be all right, now. And +in the morning, I'll come and listen to you. Just go to sleep. Maybe +she'll come back and tell you more."</p> + +<p>He must have heard me, since he signalled me out with his hand, and +backed out quietly himself, still talking. He shut the door, and +clicked the lock.</p> + +<p>Bullard heard it, though. He jerked to a sitting position, and +screamed. "<i>No!</i> No! He'll kill me! I'm a good man...."</p> + +<p>He hunched up on the bed, forcing the sheet into his mouth. When he +looked up a second later, his face was frozen in fear, but it was a +desperate, calm kind of fear. He turned to face us, and his voice +raised to a full shout, with every word as clear as he could make it.</p> + +<p>"All right. Now I'll never tell you the secret. Now you can all die +without air. I promise I'll never tell you what I know!"</p> + +<p>He fell back, beating at the sheet with his hand and sobbing +hysterically. Napier watched him. "Poor devil," the doctor said at +last. "Well, in another minute the shot will take effect. Maybe he's +lucky. He won't be worrying for awhile. And maybe he'll be rational +tomorrow."</p> + +<p>"All the same, I'm going to stand guard until Muller gets someone else +here," I decided. I kept remembering Lomax.</p> + +<p>Napier nodded, and half an hour later Bill Sanderson came to take over +the watch. Bullard was sleeping soundly.</p> + +<p>The next day, though, he woke up to start moaning and writhing again. +But he was keeping his word. He refused to answer any questions. +Napier looked worried as he reported he'd given the cook another shot +of sedative. There was nothing else he could do.</p> + +<p>Cooking was a relief, in a way. By the time Eve and I had scrubbed all +the pots into what she considered proper order, located some of the +food lockers, and prepared and served a couple of meals, we'd evolved +a smooth system that settled into a routine with just enough work to +help keep our minds off the dwindling air in the tanks. In anything +like a kitchen, she lost most of her mannish pose and turned into a +live, efficient woman. And she could cook.</p> + +<p>"First thing I learned," she told me. "I grew up in a kitchen. I guess +I'd never have turned to photography if my kid brother hadn't been +using our sink for his darkroom."</p> + +<p>Wilcox brought her a bottle of his wine to celebrate her first dinner. +He seemed to want to stick around, but she chased him off after the +first drink. We saved half the bottle to make a sauce the next day.</p> + +<p>It never got made. Muller called a council of war, and his face was +pinched and old. He was leaning on Jenny as Eve and I came into the +mess hall; oddly, she seemed to be trying to buck him up. He got down +to the facts as soon as all of us were together.</p> + +<p>"Our oxygen tanks are empty," he announced. "They shouldn't be—but +they are. Someone must have sabotaged them before the plants were +poisoned—and done it so the dials don't show it. I just found it out +when the automatic switch to a new tank failed to work. We now have +the air in the ship, and no more. Dr. Napier and I have figured that +this will keep us all alive with the help of the plants for no more +than fifteen days. I am open to any suggestions!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There was silence after that, while it soaked in. Then it was broken +by a thin scream from Phil Riggs. He slumped into a seat and buried +his head in his hands. Pietro put a hand on the man's thin shoulders, +"Captain Muller—"</p> + +<p>"Kill 'em!" It was Grundy's voice, bellowing sharply. "Let'em breathe +space! They got us into it! We can make out with the plants left! It's +our ship!"</p> + +<p>Muller had walked forward. Now his fist lashed out, and Grundy +crumpled. He lay still for a second, then got to his feet unsteadily. +Jenny screamed, but Muller moved steadily back to his former place +without looking at the mate. Grundy hesitated, fumbled in his pocket +for something, and swallowed it.</p> + +<p>"Captain, sir!" His voice was lower this time.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Grundy?"</p> + +<p>"How many of us can live off the plants?"</p> + +<p>"Ten—perhaps eleven."</p> + +<p>"Then—then give us a lottery!"</p> + +<p>Pietro managed to break in over the yells of the rest of the crew. "I +was about to suggest calling for volunteers, Captain Muller. I still +have enough faith in humanity to believe...."</p> + +<p>"You're a fool, Dr. Pietro," Muller said flatly. "Do you think Grundy +would volunteer? Or Bullard? But thanks for clearing the air, and +admitting your group has nothing more to offer. A lottery seems to be +the only fair system."</p> + +<p>He sat down heavily. "We have tradition on this; in an emergency such +as this, death lotteries have been held, and have been considered +legal afterwards. Are there any protests?"</p> + +<p>I could feel my tongue thicken in my mouth. I could see the others +stare about, hoping someone would object, wondering if this could be +happening. But nobody answered, and Muller nodded reluctantly. "A +working force must be left. Some men are indispensable. We must have +an engineer, a navigator, and a doctor. One man skilled with +engine-room practice and one with deck work must remain."</p> + +<p>"And the cook goes," Grundy yelled. His eyes were intent and slitted +again.</p> + +<p>Some of both groups nodded, but Muller brought his fist down on the +table. "This will be a legal lottery, Mr. Grundy. Dr. Napier will draw +for him."</p> + +<p>"And for myself," Napier said. "It's obvious that ten men aren't going +on to Saturn—you'll have to turn back, or head for Jupiter. Jupiter, +in fact, is the only sensible answer. And a ship can get along without +a doctor that long when it has to. I demand my right to the draw."</p> + +<p>Muller only shrugged and laid down the rules. They were simple enough. +He would cut drinking straws to various lengths, and each would draw +one. The two deck hands would compare theirs, and the longer would be +automatically safe. The same for the pair from the engine-room. Wilcox +was safe. "Mr. Peters and I will also have one of us eliminated," he +added quietly. "In an emergency, our abilities are sufficiently +alike."</p> + +<p>The remaining group would have their straws measured, and the seven +shortest ones would be chosen to remove themselves into a vacant +section between hulls without air within three hours, or be forcibly +placed there. The remaining ten would head for Jupiter if no miracle +removed the danger in those three hours.</p> + +<p>Peters got the straws, and Muller cut them and shuffled them. There +was a sick silence that let us hear the sounds of the scissors with +each snip. Muller arranged them so the visible ends were even. "Ladies +first," he said. There was no expression on his face or in his voice.</p> + +<p>Jenny didn't giggle, but neither did she balk. She picked a straw, and +then shrieked faintly. It was obviously a long one. Eve reached for +hers—</p> + +<p>And Wilcox yelled suddenly. "Captain Muller, protest! Protest! You're +using all long straws for the women!" He had jumped forward, and now +struck down Muller's hand, proving his point.</p> + +<p>"You're quite right, Mr. Wilcox," Muller said woodenly. He dropped his +hand toward his lap and came up with a group of the straws that had +been cut, placed there somehow without our seeing it. He'd done a +smooth job of it, but not smooth enough. "I felt some of you would +notice it, but I also felt that gentlemen would prefer to see ladies +given the usual courtesies."</p> + +<p>He reshuffled the assorted straws, and then paused. "Mr. Tremaine, +there was a luxury liner named the <i>Lauri Ellu</i> with an assistant +engineer by your name; and I believe you've shown a surprising +familiarity with certain customs of space. A few days ago, Jenny +mentioned something that jogged my memory. Can you still perform the +duties of an engineer?"</p> + +<p>Wilcox had started to protest at the delay. Now shock ran through him. +He stared unbelievingly from Muller to me and back, while his face +blanched. I could guess what it must have felt like to see certain +safety cut to a 50 per cent chance, and I didn't like the way Muller +was willing to forget until he wanted to take a crack at Wilcox for +punishment. But....</p> + +<p>"I can," I answered. And then, because I was sick inside myself for +cutting under Wilcox, I managed to add, "But I—I waive my chance at +immunity!"</p> + +<p>"Not accepted," Muller decided. "Jenny, will you draw?"</p> + +<p>It was pretty horrible. It was worse when the pairs compared straws. +The animal feelings were out in the open then. Finally, Muller, +Wilcox, and two crewmen dropped out. The rest of us went up to measure +our straws.</p> + +<p>It took no more than a minute. I stood staring down at the ruler, +trying to stretch the tiny thing I'd drawn. I could smell the sweat +rising from my body. But I knew the answer. I had three hours left!</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Riggs, Oliver, Nolan, Harris, Tremaine, Napier and Grundy," Muller +announced.</p> + +<p>A yell came from Grundy. He stood up, with the engine man named +Oliver, and there was a gun in his hand. "No damned big brain's +kicking me off my ship," he yelled. "You guys know me. Hey, +<i>roooob</i>!"</p> + +<p>Oliver was with him, and the other three of the crew sprang into the +group. I saw Muller duck a shot from Grundy's gun, and leap out of the +room. Then I was in it, heading for Grundy. Beside me, Peters was +trying to get a chair broken into pieces. I felt something hit my +shoulder, and the shock knocked me downward, just as a shot whistled +over my head.</p> + +<p>Gravity cut off!</p> + +<p>Someone bounced off me. I got a piece of the chair that floated by, +found the end cracked and sharp, and tried to spin towards Grundy, but +I couldn't see him. I heard Eve's voice yell over the other shouts. I +spotted the plate coming for me, but I was still in midair. It came on +steadily, edge on, and I felt it break against my forehead. Then I +blacked out.</p> + + +<h2>V</h2> + +<p>I had the grandaddy of all headaches when I came to. Doc Napier's face +was over me, and Jenny and Muller were working on Bill Sanderson. +There was a surprisingly small and painful lump on my head. Pietro and +Napier helped me up, and I found I could stand after a minute.</p> + +<p>There were four bodies covered with sheets on the floor. "Grundy, Phil +Riggs, Peters and a deckhand named Storm," Napier said. "Muller gave +us a whiff of gas and not quite in time."</p> + +<p>"Is the time up?" I asked. It was the only thing I could think of.</p> + +<p>Pietro shook his head sickly. "Lottery is off. Muller says we'll have +to hold another, since Storm and Peters were supposed to be safe. But +not until tomorrow."</p> + +<p>Eve came in then, lugging coffee. Her eyes found me, and she managed a +brief smile. "I gave the others coffee," she reported to Muller. +"They're pretty subdued now."</p> + +<p>"Mutiny!" Muller helped Jenny's brother to his feet and began helping +him toward the door. "Mutiny! And I have to swallow that!"</p> + +<p>Pietro watched him go, and handed Eve back his cup. "And there's no +way of knowing who was on which side. Dr. Napier, could you do +something...."</p> + +<p>He held out his hands that were shaking, and Napier nodded. "I can use +a sedative myself. Come on back with me."</p> + +<p>Eve and I wandered back to the kitchen. I was just getting my senses +back. The damned stupidity of it all. And now it would have to be +done over. Three of us still had to have our lives snuffed out so the +others could live—and we all had to go through hell again to find out +which.</p> + +<p>Eve must have been thinking the same. She sank down on a little stool, +and her hand came out to find mine. "For what? Paul, whoever poisoned +the plants knew it would go this far! He had to! What's to be gained? +Particularly when he'd have to go through all this, too! He must have +been crazy!"</p> + +<p>"Bullard couldn't have done it," I said slowly.</p> + +<p>"Why should it be Bullard? How do we know he was insane? Maybe when he +was shouting that he wouldn't tell, he was trying to make a bribe to +save his own life. Maybe he's as scared as we are. Maybe he was making +sense all along, if we'd only listened to him. He—"</p> + +<p>She stood up and started back toward the lockers, but I caught her +hand. "Eve, he wouldn't have done it—the killer—if he'd had to go +through the lottery! He knew he was safe! That's the one thing we've +been overlooking. The man to suspect is the only man who could be sure +he would get back! My God, we saw him juggle those straws to save +Jenny! He knew he'd control the lottery."</p> + +<p>She frowned. "But ... Paul, he practically suggested the lottery! +Grundy brought it up, but he was all ready for it." The frown +vanished, then returned. "But I still can't believe it."</p> + +<p>"He's the one who wanted to go back all the time. He kept insisting on +it, but he had to get back without violating his contract." I grabbed +her hand and started toward the nose of the ship, justifying it to her +as I went. "The only man with a known motive for returning, the only +one completely safe—and we didn't even think of it!"</p> + +<p>She was still frowning, but I wasn't wasting time. We came up the +corridor to the control room. Ahead the door was slightly open, and I +could hear a mutter of Jenny's voice. Then there was the tired rumble +of Muller.</p> + +<p>"I'll find a way, baby. I don't care how close they watch, we'll make +it work. Pick the straw with the crimp in the end—I can do that, even +if I can't push one out further again. I tell you, nothing's going to +happen to you."</p> + +<p>"But Bill—" she began.</p> + +<p>I hit the door, slamming it open. Muller sat on a narrow couch with +Jenny on his lap. I took off for him, not wasting a good chance when +he was handicapped. But I hadn't counted on Jenny. She was up, and +her head banged into my stomach before I knew she was coming. I felt +the wind knocked out, but I got her out of my way—to look up into the +muzzle of a gun in Muller's hands.</p> + +<p>"You'll explain this, Mr. Tremaine," he said coldly. "In ten seconds, +I'll have an explanation or a corpse."</p> + +<p>"Go ahead," I told him. "Shoot, damn you! You'll get away with this, +too, I suppose. Mutiny, or something. And down in that rotten soul of +yours, I suppose you'll be gloating at how you made fools of us. The +only man on board who was safe even from a lottery, and we couldn't +see it. Jenny, I hope you'll be happy with this butcher. Very happy!"</p> + +<p>He never blinked. "Say that about the only safe man aboard again," he +suggested.</p> + +<p>I repeated it, with details. But he didn't like my account. He turned +to Eve, and motioned for her to take it up. She was frowning harder, +and her voice was uncertain, but she summed up our reasons quickly +enough.</p> + +<p>And suddenly Muller was on his feet. "Mr. Tremaine, for a damned +idiot, you have a good brain. You found the key to the problem, even +if you couldn't find the lock. Do you know what happens to a captain +who permits a death lottery, even what I called a legal one? He +doesn't captain a liner—he shoots himself after he delivers his ship, +if he's wise! Come on, we'll find the one indispensable man. You stay +here, Jenny—you too, Eve!"</p> + +<p>Jenny whimpered, but stayed. Eve followed, and he made no comment. And +then it hit me. The man who had <i>thought</i> he was indispensable, and +hence safe—the man I'd naturally known in the back of my head could +be replaced, though no one else had known it until a little while ago.</p> + +<p>"He must have been sick when you ran me in as a ringer," I said, as we +walked down toward the engine hatch. "But why?"</p> + +<p>"I've just had a wild guess as to part of it," Muller said.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Wilcox was listening to the Buxtehude when we shoved the door of his +room open, and he had his head back and eyes closed. He snapped to +attention, and reached out with one hand toward a drawer beside him. +Then he dropped his arm and stood up, to cut off the tape player.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wilcox," Muller said quietly, holding the gun firmly on the +engineer. "Mr. Wilcox, I've detected evidence of some of the Venus +drugs on your two assistants for some time. It's rather hard to miss +the signs in their eyes. I've also known that Mr. Grundy was an +addict. I assumed that they were getting it from him naturally. And as +long as they performed their duties, I couldn't be choosy on an old +ship like this. But for an officer to furnish such drugs—and to +smuggle them from Venus for sale to other planets—is something I +cannot tolerate. It will make things much simpler if you will +surrender those drugs to me. I presume you keep them in those bottles +of wine you bring aboard?"</p> + +<p>Wilcox shook his head slowly, settling back against the tape machine. +Then he shrugged and bowed faintly. "The chianti, sir!"</p> + +<p>I turned my head toward the bottles, and Eve started forward. Then I +yelled as Wilcox shoved his hand down toward the tape machine. The gun +came out on a spring as he touched it.</p> + +<p>Muller shot once, and the gun missed Wilcox's fingers as the +engineer's hand went to his hip, where blood was flowing. He collapsed +into the chair behind him, staring at the spot stupidly. "I cut my +teeth on <i>tough</i> ships, Mr. Wilcox," Muller said savagely.</p> + +<p>The man's face was white, but he nodded slowly, and a weak grin came +onto his lips. "Maybe you didn't exaggerate those stories at that," he +conceded slowly. "I take it I drew a short straw."</p> + +<p>"Very short. It wasn't worth it. No profit from the piddling sale of +drugs is worth it."</p> + +<p>"There's a group of strings inside the number one fuel locker," Wilcox +said between his teeth. The numbness was wearing off, and the +shattered bones in his hip were beginning to eat at him. "Paul, pull +up one of the packages and bring it here, will you?"</p> + +<p>I found it without much trouble—along with a whole row of others, +fine cords cemented to the side of the locker. The package I drew up +weighed about ten pounds. Wilcox opened it and scooped out a +thimbleful of greenish powder. He washed it down with wine.</p> + +<p>"Fatal?" Muller asked.</p> + +<p>The man nodded. "In that dosage, after a couple of hours. But it cuts +out the pain—ah, better already. I won't feel it. Captain, I was +never piddling. Your ship has been the sole source of this drug to +Mars since a year or so after I first shipped on her. There are about +seven hundred pounds of pure stuff out there. Grundy and the others +would commit public murder daily rather than lose the few ounces a +year I gave them. Imagine what would happen when Pietro conscripted +the <i>Wahoo</i> and no drugs arrived. The addicts find out no more is +coming—they look for the peddlers—and <i>they</i> start looking for their +suppliers...."</p> + +<p>He shrugged. "There might have been time and ways, if I could have +gotten the ship back to Earth or Jupiter. It might have been +recommissioned into the Earth-Mars-Venus run, even. Pietro's +injunction caught me before I could transship, but with another +chance, I might have gotten the stuff to Mars in time.... Well, it was +a chance I took. Satisfied?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Eve stared at him with horrified eyes. Maybe I was looking the same. +It was plain enough now. He'd planned to poison the plants and drive +us back. Murder of Hendrix had been a blunder when he'd thought it +wasn't working properly. "What about Sam?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Blackmail. He was too smart. He'd been sure Grundy was smuggling the +stuff, and raking off from him. He didn't care who killed Hendrix as +much as how much Grundy would pay to keep his mouth shut—with murder +around, he figured Grundy'd get rattled. The fool did, and Sam smelled +bigger stakes. Grundy was bait to get him down near here. I killed +him."</p> + +<p>"And Lomax?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Maybe he was bluffing. But he kept going from room to +room with a pocketful of chemicals, making some kind of tests. I +couldn't take a chance on his being able to spot chromazone. So I had +Grundy give him my keys and tell him to go ahead—then jump him."</p> + +<p>And after that, when he wasn't quite killed, they'd been forced to +finish the job. Wilcox shrugged again. "I guess it got out of hand. +I'll make a tape of the whole story for you, Captain. But I'd +appreciate it if you'd get Napier down here. This is getting pretty +messy."</p> + +<p>"He's on the way," Eve said. We hadn't seen her call, but the doctor +arrived almost immediately afterwards.</p> + +<p>He sniffed the drug, and questioned us about the dose Wilcox had +taken. Then he nodded slowly. "About two hours, I'd say. No chance at +all to save him. The stuff is absorbed almost at once and begins +changing to something else in the blood. I'll be responsible, if you +want."</p> + +<p>Muller shrugged. "I suppose so. I'd rather deliver him in irons to a +jury, but.... Well, we still have a lottery to hold!"</p> + +<p>It jerked us back to reality sharply. Somehow, I'd been fighting off +the facts, figuring that finding the cause would end the results. But +even with Wilcox out of the picture, there were twelve of us left—and +air for only ten!</p> + +<p>Wilcox laughed abruptly. "A favor for a favor. I can give you a better +answer than a lottery."</p> + +<p>"Pop-corn! Bullard!" Eve slapped her head with her palm. "Captain, +give me the master key." She snatched it out of his hand and was gone +at a run.</p> + +<p>Wilcox looked disappointed, and then grinned. "Pop-corn and beans. I +overlooked them myself. We're a bunch of city hicks. But when Bullard +forgot his fears in his sleep, he remembered the answer—and got it so +messed up with his dream and his new place as a hero that my complaint +tipped the balance. Grundy put the fear of his God into him then. And +you didn't get it. Captain, you don't dehydrate beans and +pop-corn—they come that way naturally. You don't can them, either, if +you're saving weight. They're seeds—put them in tanks and they grow!"</p> + +<p>He leaned back, trying to laugh at us, as Napier finished dressing his +wound. "Bullard knows where the lockers are. And corn grows pretty +fast. It'll carry you through. Do I get that favor? It's simple +enough—just to have Beethoven's Ninth on the machine and for the +whole damned lot of you to get out of my cabin and let me die in my +own way!"</p> + +<p>Muller shrugged, but Napier found the tape and put it on. I wanted to +see the louse punished for every second of worry, for Lomax, for +Hendrix—even for Grundy. But there wasn't much use in vengeance at +this point.</p> + +<p>"You're to get all this, Paul," Wilcox said as we got ready to leave. +"Captain Muller, everything here goes to Tremaine. I'll make a tape on +that, too. But I want it to go to a man who can appreciate Hohmann's +conducting."</p> + +<p>Muller closed the door. "I guess it's yours," he admitted. "Now that +you're head engineer here, Mr. Tremaine, the cabin is automatically +yours. Take over. And get that junk in the fuel locker cleaned +out—except enough to keep your helpers going. They'll need it, and +we'll need their work."</p> + +<p>"I'll clean out his stuff at the same time," I said. "I don't want any +part of it."</p> + +<p>He smiled then, just as Eve came down with Bullard and Pietro. The fat +cook was sobered, but already beginning to fill with his own +importance. I caught snatches as they began to discuss Bullard's +knowledge of growing things. It was enough to know that we'd all +live, though it might be tough for a while.</p> + +<p>Then Muller gestured upwards. "You've got a reduced staff, Dr. Pietro. +Do you intend going on to Saturn?"</p> + +<p>"We'll go on," Pietro decided. And Muller nodded. They turned and +headed upwards.</p> + +<p>I stood staring at my engines. One of them was a touch out of phase +and I went over and corrected it. They'd be mine for over two +years—and after that, I'd be back on the lists.</p> + +<p>Eve came over beside me, and studied them with me. Finally she sighed +softly. "I guess I can see why you feel that way about them, Paul," +she said. "And I'll be coming down to look at them. But right now, +Bullard's too busy to cook, and everyone's going to be hungry when +they find we're saved."</p> + +<p>I chuckled, and felt the relief wash over me finally. I dropped my +hand from the control and caught hers—a nice, friendly hand.</p> + +<p>But at the entrance I stopped and looked back toward the cabin where +Wilcox lay. I could just make out the second movement of the Ninth +beginning.</p> + +<p>I never could stand the cheap blatancy of Hohmann's conducting.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Let'em Breathe Space, by Lester del Rey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LET'EM BREATHE SPACE *** + +***** This file should be named 31286-h.htm or 31286-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/2/8/31286/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: Let'em Breathe Space + +Author: Lester del Rey + +Illustrator: Eberle + +Release Date: February 16, 2010 [EBook #31286] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LET'EM BREATHE SPACE *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from Space Science Fiction July 1953. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. + + + LET'EM BREATHE SPACE! + + + BY LESTER DEL REY + + + ILLUSTRATED BY EBERLE + + + Eighteen men and two women in the closed world of a space + ship for five months can only spell tension and trouble--but + in this case, the atmosphere was _literally_ poisoned. + + + [Illustration] + + * * * * * + + + + +Five months out from Earth, we were half-way to Saturn and +three-quarters of the way to murder. At least, I was. I was sick of +the feuding, the worries and the pettiness of the other nineteen +aboard. My stomach heaved at the bad food, the eternal smell of +people, and the constant sound of nagging and complaints. For ten lead +pennies, I'd have gotten out into space and tried walking back to +Earth. Sometimes I thought about doing it without the pennies. + +But I knew I wasn't that tough, in spite of what I looked. I'd been +built to play fullback, and my questionable brunet beauty had been +roughed up by the explosion years before as thoroughly as dock +fighting on all the planets could have done. But sometimes I figured +all that meant was that there was more of me to hurt, and that I'd had +more experience screaming when the anodyne ran out. + +Anyhow, whole-wheat pancakes made with sourdough for the ninth +"morning" running was too damned much! I felt my stomach heave over +again, took one whiff of the imitation maple syrup, and shoved the +mess back fast while I got up faster. + + * * * * * + +It was a mistake. Phil Riggs, our scrawny, half-pint meteorologist, +grinned nastily and reached for the plate. "'Smatter, Paul? Don't you +like your breakfast? It's good for you--whole wheat contains bran. The +staff of life. Man, after that diet of bleached paste...." + + * * * * * + +There's one guy like that in every bunch. The cook was mad at us for +griping about his coffee, so our group of scientists on this cockeyed +Saturn Expedition were getting whole wheat flour as punishment, while +Captain Muller probably sat in his cabin chuckling about it. In our +agreement, there was a clause that we could go over Muller's head on +such things with a unanimous petition--but Riggs had spiked that. The +idiot liked bran in his flour, even for pancakes! + +Or else he was putting on a good act for the fun of watching the rest +of us suffer. + +"You can take your damned whole wheat and stuff it--" I started. Then +I shrugged and dropped it. There were enough feuds going on aboard the +cranky old _Wahoo_! "Seen Jenny this morning, Phil?" + +He studied me insolently. "She told Doc Napier she had some stuff +growing in hydroponics she wanted to look at. You're wasting your time +on that babe, boy!" + +"Thanks for nothing," I muttered at him, and got out before I really +decided on murder. Jenny Sanderson was our expedition biologist. A +natural golden blonde, just chin-high on me, and cute enough to earn +her way through a Ph. D. doing modelling. She had a laugh that would +melt a brass statue and which she used too much on Doc Napier, on our +chief, and even on grumpy old Captain Muller--but sometimes she used +it on me, when she wanted something. And I never did have much use for +a girl who was the strong independent type where there was a man to do +the dirty work, so that was okay. + +I suppose it was natural, with only two women among eighteen men for +month after month, but right then I probably liked Doc Napier less +than the captain, even. I pulled myself away from the corridor to +hydroponics, started for observation, and then went on into the +cubbyhole they gave me for a cabin. On the _Wahoo_, all a man could do +was sleep or sit around and think about murder. + +Well, I had nobody to blame but myself. I'd asked for the job when I +first heard Dr. Pietro had collected funds and priorities for a trip +to study Saturn's rings at close hand. And because I'd done some +technical work for him on the Moon, he figured he might as well take +me as any other good all-around mechanic and technician. He hadn't +asked me, though--that had been my own stupid idea. + +Paul Tremaine, self-cure expert! I'd picked up a nice phobia against +space when the super-liner _Lauri Ellu_ cracked up with four hundred +passengers on my first watch as second engineer. I'd gotten free and +into a suit, but after they rescued me, it had taken two years on the +Moon before I could get up nerve for the shuttle back to Earth. And +after eight years home, I should have let well enough alone. If I'd +known anything about Pietro's expedition, I'd have wrapped myself in +my phobia and loved it. + +But I didn't know then that he'd done well with priorities and only +fair with funds. The best he could afford was the rental of the old +Earth-Mars-Venus triangle freighter. Naturally, when the _Wahoo's_ +crew heard they were slated for what would be at least three years off +Earth without fancy bonus rates, they quit. Since nobody else would +sign on, Pietro had used his priorities to get an injunction that +forced them back aboard. He'd stuffed extra oxygen, water, food and +fertilizer on top of her regular supplies, then, filled her holds with +some top level fuel he'd gotten from a government assist, and set +out. And by the time I found out about it, my own contract was +iron-bound, and I was stuck. + +As an astrophysicist, Pietro was probably tops. As a man to run the +Lunar Observatory, he was a fine executive. But as a man to head up an +expedition into deep space, somebody should have given him back his +teething ring. + +Not that the _Wahoo_ couldn't make the trip with the new fuel; she'd +been one of the early survey ships before they turned her into a +freighter. But she was meant for a crew of maybe six, on trips of a +couple of months. There were no game rooms, no lounges, no bar or +library--nothing but what had to be. The only thing left for most of +us aboard was to develop our hatreds of the petty faults of the +others. Even with a homogeneous and willing crew, it was a perfect +set-up for cabin fever, and we were as heterogeneous as they came. + +Naturally the crew hated the science boys after being impressed into +duty, and also took it out on the officers. The officers felt the same +about both other groups. And the scientists hated the officers and +crew for all the inconveniences of the old _Wahoo_. Me? I was in +no-man's land--technically in the science group, but without a pure +science degree; I had an officer's feelings left over from graduating +as an engineer on the ships; and I looked like a crewman. + +It cured my phobia, all right. After the first month out, I was too +disgusted to go into a fear funk. But I found out it didn't help a bit +to like space again and know I'd stay washed up as a spaceman. + + * * * * * + +We'd been jinxed from the start. Two months out, the whole crew of +scientists came down with something Doc Napier finally diagnosed as +food poisoning; maybe he was right, since our group ate in our own +mess hall, and the crew and officers who didn't eat with us didn't get +it. Our astronomer, Bill Sanderson, almost died. I'd been lucky, but +then I never did react to things much. There were a lot of other small +troubles, but the next major trick had been fumes from the nuclear +generators getting up into our quarters--it was always our group that +had the trouble. If Eve Nolan hadn't been puttering with some of her +trick films at the time--she and Walt Harris had the so-called night +shift--and seen them blacken, we'd have been dead before they +discovered it. And it took us two weeks of bunking with the sullen +crew and decontamination before we could pick up life again. Engineer +Wilcox had been decent about helping with it, blaming himself. But it +had been a mess. + +Naturally, there were dark hints that someone was trying to get us; +but I couldn't see any crewman wiping us out just to return to Earth, +where our contract, with its completion clause, would mean he wouldn't +have a dime coming to him. Anyhow, the way things were going, we'd all +go berserk before we reached Saturn. + +The lunch gong sounded, but I let it ring. Bullard would be serving us +whole wheat biscuits and soup made out of beans he'd let soak until +they turned sour. I couldn't take any more of that junk, the way I +felt then. I heard some of the men going down the corridor, followed +by a confused rumble of voices. Then somebody let out a yell. "Hey, +_rooob_!" + +That meant something. The old yell spacemen had picked up from carney +people to rally their kind around against the foe. And I had a good +idea of who was the foe. I heard the yell bounce down the passage +again, and the slam of answering feet. + +Then the gravity field went off. Or rather, was cut off. We may have +missed the boat in getting anti-gravity, if there is such a thing, but +our artificial gravity is darned near foolproof. + +It was ten years since I'd moved in free fall, but Space Tech had done +a good job of training good habits. I got out of my bunk, hit the +corridor with a hand out, bounced, kicked, and dove toward the mess +hall without a falter. The crewmen weren't doing so well--but they +were coming up the corridor fast enough. + +I could have wrung Muller's neck. Normally, in case of trouble, +cutting gravity is smart. But not here, where the crew already wanted +a chance to commit mayhem, and had more experience than the +scientists. + +Yet, surprisingly, when I hit the mess hall ten feet ahead of the +deckhands, most of the scientists were doing all right. Hell, I should +have known Pietro, Sanderson and a couple others would be used to +no-grav; in astronomical work, you cut your eye teeth on that. They +were braced around the cook, who huddled back in a corner, while our +purser-steward, Sam, was still singing for help. + +The fat face of the cook was dead white. Bill Sanderson, looking like +a slim, blond ballet dancer and muscled like an apache expert, had him +in one hand and was stuffing the latest batch of whole wheat biscuits +down his throat. Bill's sister, Jenny, was giggling excitedly and +holding more biscuits. + +The deckhands and Grundy, the mate, were almost at the door, and I had +just time enough to slam it shut and lock it in their faces. I meant +to enjoy seeing the cook taken down without any interruption. + +Sam let out a final yell, and Bullard broke free, making a mess of it +without weight. He was sputtering out bits of the biscuit. Hal Lomax +reached out a big hand, stained with the chemicals that had been his +life's work, and pushed the cook back. + +And suddenly fat little Bullard switched from quaking fear to a blind +rage. The last of the biscuit sailed from his mouth and he spat at +Hal. "You damned hi-faluting black devil. You--_you_ sneering at my +cooking. I'm a white man, I am--I don't have to work for no black +ni...." + + * * * * * + +I reached him first, though even Sam started for him then. You can +deliver a good blow in free-fall, if you know how. His teeth against +my knuckles stopped my leap, and the back of his head bounced off the +wall. He was unconscious as he drifted by us, moving upwards. My +knuckles stung, but it had been worth it. Anyhow, Jenny's look more +than paid for the trouble. + +The door shattered then, and the big hulk of Mate Grundy tumbled in, +with the two deckhands and the pair from the engine room behind him. +Sam let out a yell that sounded like protest, and they headed for +us--just as gravity came on. + +I pulled myself off the floor and out from under Bullard to see the +stout, oldish figure of Captain Muller standing in the doorway, with +Engineer Wilcox slouched easily beside him, looking like the typical +natty space officer you see on television. Both held gas guns. + +"All right, break it up!" Muller ordered. "You men get back to your +work. And you, Dr. Pietro--my contract calls for me to deliver you to +Saturn's moon, but it doesn't forbid me to haul you the rest of the +way in irons. I won't have this aboard my ship!" + +Pietro nodded, his little gray goatee bobbing, his lean body coming +upright smoothly. "Quite right, Captain. Nor does it forbid me to let +you and your men spend the sixteen months on the moon--where _I_ +command--in irons. Why don't you ask Sam what happened before you make +a complete fool of yourself, Captain Muller?" + +Sam gulped and looked at the crew, but apparently Pietro was right; +the little guy had been completely disgusted by Bullard. He shrugged +apologetically. "Bullard insulted Dr. Lomax, sir. I yelled for someone +to help me get him out of here, and I guess everybody got all mixed up +when gravity went off, and Bullard cracked his head on the floor. Just +a misunderstanding, sir." + +Muller stood there, glowering at the cut on my knuckles, and I could +feel him aching for a good excuse to make his threat a reality. But +finally, he grunted and swung on his heel, ordering the crew with him. +Grundy threw us a final grimace and skulked off behind him. Finally +there was only Wilcox, who grinned, shrugged, and shut the door +quietly behind him. And we were left with the mess free-fall had made +of the place. + +I spotted Jenny heading across the room, carefully not seeing the +fatuous glances Pietro was throwing her way, and I swung in behind. +She nodded back at me, but headed straight for Lomax, with an odd look +on her face. When she reached him, her voice was low and businesslike. + +"Hal, what did those samples of Hendrix's show up?" + +Hendrix was the Farmer, in charge of the hydroponics that turned the +carbon dioxide we breathed out back to oxygen, and also gave us a bit +of fresh vegetables now and then. Technically, he was a crewman, just +as I was a scientist; but actually, he felt more like one of us. + +Lomax looked surprised. "What samples, Jenny? I haven't seen Hendrix +for two weeks." + +"You--" She stopped, bit her lip, and frowned. She swung on me. "Paul, +have you seen him?" + +I shook my head. "Not since last night. He was asking Eve and Walt to +wake him up early, then." + +"That's funny. He was worried about the plants yesterday and wanted +Hal to test the water and chemical fertilizer. I looked for him this +morning, but when he didn't show up, I thought he was with you, Hal. +And--the plants are dying!" + +"All of them?" The half smile wiped off Hal's face, and I could feel +my stomach hit my insteps. When anything happens to the plants in a +ship, it isn't funny. + +She shook her head again. "No--about a quarter of them. I was coming +for help when the fight started. They're all bleached out. And it +looks like--like chromazone!" + +That really hit me. They developed the stuff to fight off fungus on +Venus, where one part in a billion did the trick. But it was tricky +stuff; one part in ten-million would destroy the chlorophyll in +plants in about twenty hours, or the hemoglobin in blood in about +fifteen minutes. It was practically a universal poison. + +Hal started for the door, then stopped. He glanced around the room, +turned back to me, and suddenly let out a healthy bellow of seeming +amusement. Jenny's laugh was right in harmony. I caught the drift, and +tried to look as if we were up to some monkey business as we slipped +out of the room. Nobody seemed suspicious. + +Then we made a dash for hydroponics, toward the rear of the ship. We +scrambled into the big chamber together, and stopped. Everything +looked normal among the rows of plant-filled tanks, pipes and +equipment. Jenny led us down one of the rows and around a bend. + +The plants in the rear quarter weren't sick--they were dead. They were +bleached to a pale yellow, like boiled grass, and limp. Nothing would +save them now. + +"I'm a biologist, not a botanist--" Jenny began. + +Hal grunted sickly. "Yeah. And I'm not a life hormone expert. But +there's one test we can try." + +He picked up a pair of rubber gloves from a rack, and pulled off some +wilted stalks. From one of the healthy tanks, he took green leaves. He +mashed the two kinds together on the edge of a bench and watched. "If +it's chromazone, they've developed an enzyme by now that should eat +the color out of those others." + + * * * * * + +In about ten seconds, I noticed the change. The green began to bleach +before my eyes. + +Jenny made a sick sound in her throat and stared at the rows of +healthy plants. "I checked the valves, and this sick section is +isolated. But--if chromazone got into the chemicals.... Better get your +spectroanalyzer out, Hal, while I get Captain Muller. Paul, be a dear +and find Hendrix, will you?" + +I shook my head, and went further down the rows. "No need, Jenny," I +called back. I pointed to the shoe I'd seen sticking out from the edge +of one of the tanks. There was a leg attached. + +I reached for it, but Lomax shoved me back. "Don't--the enzymes in the +corpse are worse than the poison, Paul. Hands off." He reached down +with the gloves and heaved. It was Hendrix, all right--a corpse with a +face and hands as white as human flesh could ever get. Even the lips +were bleached out. + +Jenny moaned. "The fool! The stupid fool. He _knew_ it was dangerous +without gloves; he suspected chromazone, even though none's supposed +to be on board. And I warned him . . ." + +"Not against this, you didn't," I told her. I dropped to my knees and +took another pair of gloves. Hendrix's head rolled under my grasp. The +skull was smashed over the left eye, as if someone had taken a +sideswipe at Hendrix with a hammer. No fall had produced that. "You +should have warned him about his friends. Must have been killed, then +dumped in there." + +"Murder!" Hal bit the word out in disgust. "You're right, Paul. Not +too stupid a way to dispose of the body, either--in another couple of +hours, he'd have started dissolving in that stuff, and we'd never have +guessed it was murder. That means this poisoning of the plants wasn't +an accident. Somebody poisoned the water, then got worried when there +wasn't a report on the plants; must have been someone who thought it +worked faster on plants than it does. So he came to investigate, and +Hendrix caught him fooling around. So he got killed." + +"But who?" Jenny asked. + +I shrugged sickly. "Somebody crazy enough--or desperate enough to turn +back that he'll risk our air and commit murder. You'd better go after +the captain while Hal gets his test equipment. I'll keep watch here." + +It didn't feel good in hydroponics after they left. I looked at those +dead plants, trying to figure whether there were enough left to keep +us going. I studied Hendrix's body, trying to tell myself the murderer +had no reason to come back and try to get me. + +I reached for a cigarette, and then put the pack back. The air felt +almost as close as the back of my neck felt tense and unprotected. And +telling myself it was all imagination didn't help--not with what was +in that chamber to keep me company. + + +II + +Muller's face was like an iceberg when he came down--but only after he +saw Hendrix. Before then I'd caught the fat moon-calf expression on +his face, and I'd heard Jenny giggling. Damn it, they'd taken enough +time. Hal was already back, fussing over things with the hunk of tin +and lenses he treated like a newborn baby. + +Doc Napier came in behind them, but separately. I saw him glance at +them and look sick. Then both Muller and Napier began concentrating on +business. Napier bent his nervous, bony figure over the corpse, and +stood up almost at once. "Murder all right." + +"So I guessed, Dr. Napier," Muller growled heavily at him. "Wrap him +up and put him between hulls to freeze. We'll bury him when we land. +Tremaine, give a hand with it, will you?" + +"I'm not a laborer, Captain Muller!" Napier protested. I started to +tell him where he could get off, too. + +But Jenny shook her head at us. "Please. Can't you see Captain Muller +is trying to keep too many from knowing about this? I should think +you'd be glad to help. Please?" + +Put that way, I guess it made sense. We found some rubber sheeting in +one of the lockers, and began wrapping Hendrix in it; it wasn't +pleasant, since he was beginning to soften up from the enzymes he'd +absorbed. "How about going ahead to make sure no one sees us?" I +suggested to Jenny. + +Muller opened his mouth, but Jenny gave one of her quick little laughs +and opened the door for us. Doc looked relieved. I guessed he was +trying to kid himself. Personally, I wasn't a fool--I was just hooked; +I knew perfectly well she was busy playing us off against one another, +and probably having a good time balancing the books. But hell, that's +the way life runs. + +"Get Pietro up here!" Muller fired after us. She laughed again, and +nodded. She went with us until we got to the 'tween-hulls lock, then +went off after the chief. She was back with him just as we finished +stuffing Hendrix through and sealing up again. + +Muller grunted at us when we got back, then turned to Lomax again. The +big chemist didn't look happy. He spread his hands toward us, and +hunched his shoulders. "A fifty-times over-dose of chromazone in those +tanks--fortunately none in the others. And I can't find a trace of it +in the fertilizer chemicals or anywhere else. Somebody deliberately +put it into those tanks." + +"Why?" Pietro asked. We'd filled him in with the rough details, but it +still made no sense to him. + +"Suppose you tell me, Dr. Pietro," Muller suggested. "Chromazone is a +poison most people never heard of. One of the new _scientific_ +nuisances." + +Pietro straightened, and his goatee bristled. "If you're hinting . . ." + +"I am _not_ hinting, Dr. Pietro. I'm telling you that I'm confining +your group to their quarters until we can clean up this mess, distil +the water that's contaminated, and replant. After that, if an +investigation shows nothing, I _may_ take your personal bond for the +conduct of your people. Right now I'm protecting my ship." + +"But captain--" Jenny began. + +Muller managed a smile at her. "Oh, not you, of course, Jenny. I'll +need you here. With Hendrix gone, you're the closest thing we have to +a Farmer now." + + * * * * * + +"Captain Muller," Pietro said sharply. "Captain, in the words of the +historical novelists--drop dead! Dr. Sanderson, I forbid you to leave +your quarters so long as anyone else is confined to his. I have ample +authority for that." + +"Under emergency powers--" Muller spluttered over it, and Pietro +jumped in again before he could finish. + +"Precisely, Captain. Under emergency situations, when passengers +aboard a commercial vessel find indications of total irresponsibility +or incipient insanity on the part of a ship's officer, they are +considered correct in assuming command for the time needed to protect +their lives. We were poisoned by food prepared in your kitchen, and +were nearly killed by radioactivity through a leak in the +engine-room--and no investigation was made. We are now confronted with +another situation aimed against our welfare--as the others were wholly +aimed at us--and you choose to conduct an investigation against our +group only. My only conclusion is that you wish to confine us to +quarters so we cannot find your motives for this last outrage. Paul, +will you kindly relieve the captain of his position?" + +They were both half right, and mostly wrong. Until it was proved that +our group was guilty, Muller couldn't issue an order that was +obviously discriminatory and against our personal safety in case there +was an attack directed on us. He'd be mustered out of space and into +the Lunar Cells for that. But on the other hand, the "safety for +passengers" clause Pietro was citing applied only in the case of +overt, direct and physical danger by an officer to normal passengers. +He might be able to weasel it through a court, or he might be found +guilty of mutiny. It left me in a pretty position. + +Jenny fluttered around. "Now, now--" she began. + +I cut her off. "Shut up, Jenny. And you two damned fools cool down. +Damn it, we've got an emergency here all right--we may not have air +plants enough to live on. Pietro, we can't run the ship--and neither +can Muller get through what's obviously a mess that may call for all +our help by confining us. Why don't you two go off and fight it out in +person?" + +[Illustration] + +Surprisingly, Pietro laughed. "I'm afraid I'd put up a poor showing +against the captain, Paul. My apologies, Captain Muller." + +Muller hesitated, but finally took Pietro's hand, and dropped the +issue. + +"We've got enough plants," he said, changing the subject. "We'll have +to cut out all smoking and other waste of air. And I'll need Jenny to +work the hydroponics, with any help she requires. We've got to get +more seeds planted, and fast. Better keep word of this to ourselves. +We--" + +A shriek came from Jenny then. She'd been busy at one of the lockers +in the chamber. Now she began ripping others open and pawing through +things inside rubber-gloves. "Captain Muller! The seeds! The seeds!" + +Hal took one look, and his face turned gray. + + * * * * * + +"Chromazone," he reported. "Every bag of seed has been filled with a +solution of chromazone! They're worthless!" + +"How long before the plants here will seed?" Muller asked sharply. + +"Three months," Jenny answered. "Captain Muller, what are we going to +do?" + +The dour face settled into grim determination. "The only sensible +thing. Take care of these plants, conserve the air, and squeeze by +until we can reseed. And, Dr. Pietro, with your permission, we'll turn +about for Earth at once. We can't go on like this. To proceed would be +to endanger the life of every man aboard." + +"Please, Danton." Jenny put her hand on Pietro's arm. "I know what +this all means to you, but--" + +Pietro shook her off. "It means the captain's trying to get out of the +expedition, again. It's five months back to Earth--more, by the time +we kill velocity. It's the same to Saturn. And either way, in five +months we've got this fixed up, or we're helpless. Permission to +return refused, Captain Muller." + +"Then if you'll be so good as to return to your own quarters," Muller +said, holding himself back with an effort that turned his face red, +"we'll start clearing this up. And not a word of this." + +Napier, Lomax, Pietro and I went back to the scientists' quarters, +leaving Muller and Jenny conferring busily. That was at fifteen +o'clock. At sixteen o'clock, Pietro issued orders against smoking. + +Dinner was at eighteen o'clock. We sat down in silence. I reached for +my plate without looking. And suddenly little Phil Riggs was on his +feet, raving. "Whole wheat! Nothing but whole wheat bread! I'm sick of +it--sick! I won't--" + +"Sit down!" I told him. I'd bitten into one of the rolls on the table. +It was white bread, and it was the best the cook had managed so far. +There was corn instead of baked beans, and he'd done a fair job of +making meat loaf. "Stop making a fool of yourself, Phil." + +He slumped back, staring at the white bun into which he'd bitten. +"Sorry. Sorry. It's this air--so stuffy. I can't breathe. I can't see +right--" + +Pietro and I exchanged glances, but I guess we weren't surprised. +Among intelligent people on a ship of that size, secrets wouldn't +keep. They'd all put bits together and got part of the answer. Pietro +shrugged, and half stood up to make an announcement. + + * * * * * + +"Beg pardon, sirs." We jerked our heads around to see Bullard standing +in the doorway. + +He was scared stiff, and his words got stuck in his throat. Then he +found his voice again. "I heard as how Hendrix went crazy and poisoned +the plants and went and killed himself and we'll all die if we don't +find some trick, and what I want to know, please, sirs, is are what +they're saying right and you know all kinds of tricks and can you save +us because I can't go on like this not knowing and hearing them +talking outside the galley and none of them telling me--" + +Lomax cut into his flood of words. "You'll live, Bullard. Farmer +Hendrix did get killed in an accident to some of the plants, but we've +still got air enough. Captain Muller has asked the help of a few of +us, but it's only a temporary emergency." + +Bullard stared at him, and slowly some of the fear left his +face--though not all of it. He turned and left with a curt bow of his +head, while Pietro added a few details that weren't exactly lies to +Lomax's hasty cover-up, along with a grateful glance at the chemist. +It seemed to work, for the time being--at least enough for Riggs to +begin making nasty remarks about cooked paste. + +Then the tension began to build again. I don't think any of the crew +talked to any of our group. And yet, there seemed to be a chain of +rumor that exchanged bits of information. Only the crew could have +seen the dead plants being carried down to our refuse breakdown plant; +and the fact it was chromazone poisoning must have been deduced from a +description by some of our group. At any rate, both groups knew all +about it--and a little bit more, as was usual with rumors--by the +second day. + +Muller should have made the news official, but he only issued an +announcement that the danger was over. When Peters, our +radioman-navigator, found Sam and Phil Riggs smoking and dressed them +down, it didn't make Muller's words seem too convincing. I guessed +that Muller had other things on his mind; at least he wasn't in his +cabin much, and I didn't see Jenny for two whole days. + +My nerves were as jumpy as those of the rest. It isn't too bad cutting +out smoking; a man can stand imagining the air is getting stale; but +when every unconscious gesture toward cigarettes that aren't there +reminds him of the air, and when every imagined stale stench makes him +want a cigarette to relax, it gets a little rough. + +Maybe that's why I was in a completely rotten mood when I finally did +spot Jenny going down the passage, with the tight coveralls she was +wearing emphasizing every motion of her hips. I grabbed her and swung +her around. "Hi, stranger. Got time for a word?" + +She sort of brushed my hand off her arm, but didn't seem to mind it. +"Why, I guess so, Paul. A little time. Captain Muller's watching the +'ponics." + +"Good," I said, trying to forget Muller. "Let's make it a little more +private than this, though. Come on in." + +She lifted an eyebrow at the open door of my cabin, made with a little +giggle, and stepped inside. I followed her, and kicked the door shut. +She reached for it, but I had my back against it. + +"Paul!" She tried to get around me, but I wasn't having any. I pushed +her back onto the only seat in the room, which was the bunk. She got +up like a spring uncoiling. "Paul Tremaine, you open that door. You +know better than that. Paul, please!" + +"What makes me any different than the others? You spend plenty of time +in Muller's cabin--and you've been in Pietro's often enough. Probably +Doc Napier's, too!" + +Her eyes hardened, but she decided to try the patient and +reason-with-the-child line. "That is different. Captain Muller and I +have a great deal of business to work out." + +"Sure. And he looks great in lipstick!" + +It was a shot in the dark, but it went home. I wished I'd kept my +darned mouth shut; before I'd been suspecting it--now I knew. She +turned pink and tried to slap me, which won't work when the girl is +sitting on a bunk and I'm on my feet. "You mind your own business!" + +"I'm doing that. Generations should stick together, and he's old +enough to be your father!" + +She leaned back and studied me. Then she smiled slowly, and something +about it made me sick inside. "I like older men, Paul. They make +people my own age seem so callow, so unfinished. It's so comforting to +have mature people around. I always did have an Electra complex." + +"The Greeks had plenty of names for it, kid," I told her. "Don't get +me wrong. If you want to be a slut, that's your own business. But when +you pull the innocent act on me, and then fall back to sophomore +psychology--" + +This time she stood up before she slapped. Before her hand stung my +face, I was beginning to regret what I'd said. Afterwards, I didn't +give a damn. I picked her up off the floor, slapped her soundly on the +rump, pulled her tight against me, and kissed her. She tried +scratching my face, then went passive, and wound up with one arm +around my neck and the other in the hair at the back of my head. When +I finally put her down she sank back onto the bunk, breathing heavily. + +"Why, Paul!" And she reached out her arms as I came down to meet them. +For a second, the world looked pretty good. + +Then a man's hoarse scream cut through it all, with the sound of heavy +steps in panic flight. I jerked up. Jenny hung on. "Paul.... Paul...." +But there was the smell of death in the air, suddenly. I broke free +and was out into the corridor. The noise seemed to come from the shaft +that led to the engine room, and I jumped for it, while I heard doors +slam. + +This time, there was a commotion, like a wet sack being tossed around +in a pentagonal steel barrel, and another hoarse scream that cut off +in the middle to a gargling sound. + + * * * * * + +I reached the shaft and started down the center rail, not bothering +with the hand-grips. I could hear something rustle below, followed by +silence, but I couldn't see a thing; the lights had been cut. + +I could feel things poking into my back before I landed; I always get +the creeps when there's death around, and that last sound had been +just that--somebody's last sound. I _knew_ somebody was going to kill +me before I could find the switch. Then I stumbled over something, and +my hair stood on end. I guess my own yell was pretty horrible. It +scared me worse than I was already. But my fingers found the switch +somehow, and the light flashed on. + +Sam lay on the floor, with blood still running from a wide gash +across his throat. A big kitchen knife was still stuck in one end of +the horrible wound. And one of his fingers was half sliced off where +the blade of a switch-blade shiv had failed on him and snapped back. + +Something sounded above me, and I jerked back. But it was Captain +Muller, coming down the rail. The man had obviously taken it all in on +the way down. He jerked the switch-blade out of Sam's dead grasp and +looked at the point of the knife. There was blood further back from +the cut finger, but none on the point. + +"Damn!" Muller tossed it down in disgust. "If he'd scratched the other +man, we'd have had a chance to find who it was. Tremaine, have you got +an alibi?" + +"I was with Jenny," I told him, and watched his eyes begin to hate me. +But he nodded. We picked Sam up together and lugged his body up to the +top of the shaft, where the crowd had collected. Pietro, Peters, the +cook, Grundy and Lomax were there. Beyond them, the dark-haired, +almost masculine head of Eve Nolan showed, her eyes studying the body +of Sam as if it were a negative in her darkroom; as usual, Bill +Sanderson was as close to her as he could get. But there was no sign +now of Jenny. I glanced up the corridor but saw only Wilcox and Phil +Riggs, with Walt Harris trailing them, rubbing the sleep out of his +eyes. + +Muller moved directly to Pietro. "Six left in my crew now, Dr. Pietro. +First Hendrix, now Sam. Can you still say that the attack is on _your_ +crew--when mine keep being killed? This time, sir, I demand . . ." + +"Give 'em hell, Captain," ape-man Grundy broke in. "Cut the fancy +stuff, and let's get the damned murdering rats!" + +Muller's eyes quartered him, spitted his carcass, and began turning +him slowly over a bed of coals. "Mister Grundy, I am master of the +_Wahoo_. I fail to remember asking for your piratical advice. Dr. +Pietro, I trust you will have no objections if I ask Mr. Peters to +investigate your section and group thoroughly?" + +"None at all, Captain Muller," Pietro answered. "I trust Peters. And I +feel sure you'll permit me to delegate Mr. Tremaine to inspect the +remainder of the ship?" + +Muller nodded curtly. "Certainly. Until the madman is found, we're all +in danger. And unless he is found, I insist I must protect my crew and +my ship by turning back to Earth." + +"I cannot permit that, sir!" + +"Your permission for that was not requested, Dr. Pietro! Yes, +Bullard?" + +The cook had been squirming and muttering to himself for minutes. Now +he darted out toward Grundy, and his finger pointed to Lomax. "He done +it! I seen him. Killed the only friend I had, he did. They went by my +galley--and--and he grabbed my big knife, that one there. And he +killed Sam." + + * * * * * + +"You're sure it was Lomax?" Muller asked sharply. + +"Sure I'm sure. Sam, he was acting queer lately. He was worried. Told +me he saw something, and he was going to know for sure. He borrowed my +switch-blade knife that my wife gave me. And he went out looking for +something. Then I heard him a-running, and I looked up, and there was +this guy, chasing him. Sure, I seen him with my own eyes." + +Eve Nolan chuckled throatily, throwing her mannish-cut hair back from +her face. She was almost pretty with an expression on her countenance, +even if it was amused disgust. "Captain Muller, that's a nice story. +But Dr. Lomax was with me in my darkroom, working on some +spectroanalysis slides. Bill Sanderson and Phil Riggs were waiting +outside for us. And Mr. Peters saw us come out together when we all +ran down here." + +Peters nodded. Muller stared at us for a second, and the hunting lust +died out of his eyes, leaving them blank and cold. He turned to +Bullard. "Bullard, an explanation might make me reduce your +punishment. If you have anything to say, say it now!" + +The cook was gibbering and actually drooling with fear. He shook, and +sweat popped out all over him. "My knife--I hadda say something. They +stole my knife. They wanted it to look like I done it. God, Captain, +you'da done the same. Can't punish a man for trying to save his life. +I'm a good man, I am. Can't whip a good man! Can't--" + +"Give him twenty-five lashes with the wire, Mr. Grundy," Muller said +flatly. + +Pietro let out a shriek on top of the cook's. He started forward, but +I caught him. "Captain Muller's right," I told him. "On a spaceship, +the full crew is needed. The brig is useless, so the space-enabling +charter recognizes flogging. Something is needed to maintain +discipline." + +Pietro dropped back reluctantly, but Lomax faced the captain. "The man +is a coward, hardly responsible, Captain Muller. I'm the wounded +party in this case, but it seems to me that hysteria isn't the same +thing as maliciousness. Suppose I ask for clemency?" + +"Thank you, Dr. Lomax," Muller said, and actually looked relieved. +"Make it ten lashes, Mr. Grundy. Apparently no real harm has been +done, and he will not testify in the future." + +Grundy began dragging Bullard out, muttering about damn fool +groundlubbers always sticking their noses in. The cook caught at +Lomax's hand on the way, literally slobbering over it. Lomax rubbed +his palm across his thigh, looking embarrassed. + +Muller turned back to us. "Very well. Mr. Peters will begin +investigating the expedition staff and quarters; Mr. Tremaine will +have free run over the rest of the ship. And if the murderer is not +turned up in forty-eight hours, we head back to Earth!" + +Pietro started to protest again, but another scream ripped down the +corridor, jerking us all around. It was Jenny, running toward us. She +was breathing hoarsely as she nearly crashed into Dr. Pietro. + +Her face was white and sick, and she had to try twice before she could +speak. + +"The plants!" she gasped out. "Poison! They're dying!" + + +III + +It was chromazone again. Muller had kept most of the gang from coming +back to hydroponics, but he, Jenny, Pietro, Wilcox and myself were +enough to fill the room with the smell of sick fear. Now less than +half of the original space was filled with healthy plants. Some of the +tanks held plants already dead, and others were dying as we watched; +once beyond a certain stage, the stuff acted almost instantly--for +hours there was only a slight indication of something wrong, and then +suddenly there were the dead, bleached plants. + +Wilcox was the first to speak. He still looked like some nattily +dressed hero of a space serial, but his first words were ones that +could never have gone out on a public broadcast. Then he shrugged. +"They must have been poisoned while we were all huddled over Sam's +body. Who wasn't with us?" + +"Nonsense," Pietro denied. "This was done at least eighteen hours ago, +maybe more. We'd have to find who was around then." + +"Twenty hours, or as little as twelve," Jenny amended. "It depends on +the amount of the dosage, to some extent. And...." She almost managed +to blush. "Well, there have been a lot of people around. I can't even +remember. Mr. Grundy and one of the men, Mr. Wilcox, Dr. Napier--oh, I +don't know!" + +Muller shook his head in heavy agreement. "Naturally. We had a lot of +work to do here. After word got around about Hendrix, we didn't try to +conceal much. It might have happened when someone else was watching, +too. The important thing, gentlemen, is that now we don't have reserve +enough to carry us to Saturn. The plants remaining can't handle the +air for all of us. And while we ship some reserve oxygen...." + +He let it die in a distasteful shrug. "At least this settles one +thing. We have no choice now but to return to Earth!" + +"Captain Muller," Pietro bristled quickly, "that's getting to be a +monomania with you. I agree we are in grave danger. I don't relish the +prospect of dying any more than you do--perhaps less, in view of +certain peculiarities! But it's now further back to Earth than it is +to Saturn. And before we can reach either, we'll have new plants--or +we'll be dead!" + +"Some of us will be dead, Dr. Pietro," Wilcox amended it. "There are +enough plants left to keep some of us breathing indefinitely." + +Pietro nodded. "And I suppose, in our captain's mind, that means the +personnel of the ship can survive. Captain Muller, I must regard your +constant attempt to return to Earth as highly suspicious in view of +this recurrent sabotage of the expedition. Someone here is apparently +either a complete madman or so determined to get back that he'll +resort to anything to accomplish his end. And you have been harping on +returning over and over again!" + +Muller bristled, and big heavy fist tightened. Then he drew himself up +to his full dumpy height. "Dr. Pietro," he said stiffly, "I am as +responsible to my duties as any man here--and my duties involve +protecting the life of every man and woman on board; if you wish to +return, I shall be _most_ happy to submit this to a formal board of +inquiry. I--" + +"Just a minute," I told them. "You two are forgetting that we've got a +problem here. Damn it, I'm sick of this fighting among ourselves. +We're a bunch of men in a jam, not two camps at war now. I can't see +any reason why Captain Muller would want to return that badly." + +Muller nodded slightly. "Thank you, Mr. Tremaine. However, for the +record, and to save you trouble investigating there is a good reason. +My company is now building a super-liner; if I were to return within +the next six months, they'd promote me to captain of that ship--a +considerable promotion, too." + +For a moment, his honesty seemed to soften Pietro. The scientist +mumbled some sort of apology, and turned to the plants. But it +bothered me; if Muller had pulled something, the smartest thing he +could have done would be to have said just what he did. + +Besides, knowing that Pietro's injunction had robbed him of a chance +like that was enough to rankle in any man's guts and make him work up +something pretty close to insanity. I marked it down in my mental +files for the investigation I was supposed to make, but let it go for +the moment. + +Muller stood for a minute longer, thinking darkly about the whole +situation. Then he moved toward the entrance to hydroponics and pulled +out the ship speaker mike. "All hands and passengers will assemble in +hydroponics within five minutes," he announced. He swung toward +Pietro. "With your permission, Doctor," he said caustically. + +The company assembled later looked as sick as the plants. This time, +Muller was hiding nothing. He outlined the situation fully; maybe he +shaded it a bit to throw suspicion on our group, but in no way we +could pin down. Finally he stated flatly that the situation meant +almost certain death for at least some of those aboard. + +"From now on, there'll be a watch kept. This is closed to everyone +except myself, Dr. Pietro, Mr. Peters, and Dr. Jenny Sanderson. At +least one of us will be here at all times, equipped with gas guns. +Anyone else is to be killed on setting foot inside this door!" He +swung his eyes over the group. "Any objections?" + + * * * * * + +Grundy stirred uncomfortably. "I don't go for them science guys up here. +Takes a crazy man to do a thing like this, and everybody knows...." + +Eve Nolan laughed roughly. "Everybody knows you've been swearing you +won't go the whole way, Grundy. These jungle tactics should be right +up your alley." + +"That's enough," Muller cut through the beginnings of the hassle. "I +trust those I appointed--at least more than I do the rest of you. The +question now is whether to return to Earth at once or to go on to +Saturn. We can't radio for help for months yet. We're not equipped +with sharp beams, we're low powered, and we're off the lanes where +Earth's pick-ups hunt. Dr. Pietro wants to go on, since we can't get +back within our period of safety; I favor returning, since there is no +proof that this danger will end with this outrage. We've agreed to let +the result of a vote determine it." + +Wilcox stuck up a casual hand, and Muller nodded to him. He grinned +amiably at all of us. "There's a third possibility, Captain. We can +reach Jupiter in about three months, if we turn now. It's offside, but +closer than anything else. From there, on a fast liner, we can be back +on Earth in another ten days." + +Muller calculated, while Peters came up to discuss it. Then he nodded. +"Saturn or Jupiter, then. I'm not voting, of course. Bullard is +disqualified to vote by previous acts." He drew a low moan from the +sick figure of Bullard for that, but no protest. Then he nodded. "All +those in favor of Jupiter, your right hands please!" + +I counted them, wondering why my own hand was still down. It made some +sort of sense to turn aside now. But none of our group was voting--and +all the others had their hands up, except for Dr. Napier. "Seven," +Muller announced. "Those in favor of Saturn." + +Again, Napier didn't vote. I hesitated, then put my hand up. It was +crazy, and Pietro was a fool to insist. But I knew that he'd never get +another chance if this failed, and.... + +"Eight," Muller counted. He sighed, then straightened. "Very well, we +go on. Dr. Pietro, you will have my full support from now on. In +return, I'll expect every bit of help in meeting this emergency. Mr. +Tremaine was correct; we cannot remain camps at war." + +Pietro's goatee bobbed quickly, and his hand went out. But while most +of the scientists were nodding with him, I caught the dark scowl of +Grundy, and heard the mutters from the deckhands and the engine men. +If Muller could get them to cooperate, he was a genius. + +Pietro faced us, and his face was serious again. "We can hasten the +seeding of the plants a little, I think, by temperature and +light-and-dark cycle manipulations. Unfortunately, these aren't +sea-algae plants, or we'd be in comparatively little trouble. That was +my fault in not converting. We can, however, step up their efficiency +a bit. And I'm sure we can find some way to remove the carbon dioxide +from the air." + +"How about oxygen to breathe?" Peters asked. + +"That's the problem," Pietro admitted. "I was wondering about +electrolyzing water." + +Wilcox bobbed up quickly. "Can you do it on AC current?" + +Lomax shook his head. "It takes DC." + +"Then that's out. We run on 220 AC. And while I can rectify a few +watts, it wouldn't be enough to help. No welders except monatomic +hydrogen torches, even." + +Pietro looked sicker than before. He'd obviously been counting on +that. But he turned to Bullard. "How about seeds? We had a crop of +tomatoes a month ago--and from the few I had, they're all seed. Are +any left?" + +Bullard rocked from side to side, moaning. "Dead. We're all gonna be +dead. I told him, I did, you take me out there, I'll never get back. +I'm a good man, I am. I wasn't never meant to die way out here. +I--I--" + +He gulped and suddenly screamed. He went through the door at an +awkward shuffle, heading for his galley. Muller shook his head, and +turned toward me. "Check up, will you, Mr. Tremaine? And I suggest +that you and Mr. Peters start your investigation at once. I understand +that chromazone would require so little hiding space that there's no +use searching for it. But if you can find any evidence, report it at +once." + +Peters and I left. I found the galley empty. Apparently Bullard had +gone to lie on his stomach in his bunk and nurse his terror. I found +the freezer compartments, though--and the tomatoes. There must have +been a bushel of them, but Bullard had followed his own peculiar +tastes. From the food he served, he couldn't stand fresh vegetables; +and he'd cooked the tomatoes down thoroughly and run them through the +dehydrator before packing them away! + + * * * * * + +It was a cheerful supper, that one! Bullard had half-recovered and his +fear was driving him to try to be nice to us. The selection was good, +beyond the inevitable baked beans; but he wasn't exactly a chef at +best, and his best was far behind him. Muller had brought Wilcox, +Napier and Peters down to our mess with himself, to consolidate +forces, and it seemed that he was serious about cooperating. But it +was a little late for that. + +Overhead, the fans had been stepped up to counteract the effect of +staleness our minds supplied. But the whine of the motors kept +reminding us our days were counted. Only Jenny was normal; she sat +between Muller and Pietro, where she could watch my face and that of +Napier. And even her giggles had a forced sound. + +There were all kinds of things we could do--in theory. But we didn't +have that kind of equipment. The plain fact was that the plants were +going to lose the battle against our lungs. The carbon dioxide would +increase, speeding up our breathing, and making us all seem to +suffocate. The oxygen would grow thinner and thinner, once our +supplies of bottled gas ran out. And eventually, the air wouldn't +support life. + +"It's sticky and hot," Jenny complained, suddenly. + +"I stepped up the humidity and temperature controls," I told her. She +nodded in quick comprehension, but I went on for Muller's benefit. +"Trying to give the plants the best growing atmosphere. We'll feel +just as hot and sticky when the carbon dioxide goes up, anyhow." + +"It must already be up," Wilcox said. "My two canaries are breathing +faster." + +"Canaries," Muller said. He frowned, though he must have known of +them. It was traditional to keep them in the engine-room, though the +reason behind it had long since been lost. "Better kill them, Mr. +Wilcox." + +Wilcox jerked, and his face paled a bit. Then he nodded. "Yes, sir!" + +That was when I got scared. The idea that two birds breathing could +hurt our chances put things on a little too vivid a basis. Only Lomax +seemed unaffected. He shoved back now, and stood up. + +"Some tests I have to make, Captain. I have an idea that might turn up +the killer among us!" + +I had an idea he was bluffing, but I kept my mouth shut. A bluff was +as good as anything else, it seemed. + +At least, it was better than anything I seemed able to do. I prowled +over the ship, sometimes meeting Peters doing the same, but I couldn't +find a bit of evidence. The crewmen sat watching with hating eyes. And +probably the rest aboard hated and feared us just as much. It wasn't +hard to imagine the man who was behind it all deciding to wipe one of +us out. My neck got a permanent crimp from keeping one eye behind me. +But there wasn't a shred of evidence I could find. + +In two more days, we began to notice the stuffiness more. My breathing +went up enough to notice. Somehow, I couldn't get a full breath. And +the third night, I woke up in the middle of my sleep with the feeling +something was sitting on my chest; but since I'd taken to sleeping +with the light on, I saw that it was just the stuffiness that was +bothering me. Maybe most of it had been psychological up until then. +But that was the real thing. + +The nice part of it was that it wouldn't be sudden--we'd have days to +get closer and closer to death; and days for each one to realize a +little more that every man who wasn't breathing would make it that +much easier for the rest of us. I caught myself thinking of it when I +saw Bullard or Grundy. + + * * * * * + +Then trouble struck again. I was late getting to the scene this time, +down by the engine room. Muller and Bill Sanderson were ahead of me, +trying to separate Hal Lomax and Grundy, and not doing so well. Lomax +brought up a haymaker as I arrived, and started to shout something. +But Grundy was out of Muller's grasp, and up, swinging a wrench. It +connected with a dull thud, and Lomax hit the floor, unconscious. + +I picked Grundy up by the collar of his jacket, heaved him around and +against a wall, where I could get my hand against his esophagus and +start squeezing. His eyeballs popped, and the wrench dropped from his +hands. When I get mad enough to act that way, I usually know I'll +regret it later. This time it felt good, all the way. But Muller +pushed me aside, waiting until Grundy could breathe again. + +"All right," Muller said. "I hope you've got a good explanation, +before I decide what to do with you." + +Grundy's eyes were slitted, as if he'd been taking some of the Venus +drugs. But after one long, hungry look at me, he faced the captain. +"Yes, sir. This guy came down here ahead of me. Didn't think nothing +of it, sir. But when he started fiddling with the panel there, I got +suspicious." He pointed to the external control panel for the engine +room, to be used in case of accidents. "With all that's been going on, +how'd I know but maybe he was gonna dump the fuel? And then I seen he +had keys. I didn't wait, sir. I jumped him. And then you come up." + +Wilcox came from the background and dropped beside the still figure of +Lomax. He opened the man's left hand and pulled out a bunch of keys, +examining them. "Engine keys, Captain Muller. Hey--it's my set! He +must have lifted them from my pocket. It looks as if Grundy's found +our killer!" + +"Or Lomax found him!" I pointed out. "Anybody else see this start, or +know that Lomax didn't get those keys away from Grundy, when _he_ +started trouble?" + +"Why, you--" Grundy began, but Wilcox cut off his run. It was a shame. +I still felt like pushing the man's Adam's apple through his medulla +oblongata. + +"Lock them both up, until Dr. Lomax comes to," Muller ordered. "And +send Dr. Napier to take care of him. I'm not jumping to any +conclusions." But the look he was giving Lomax indicated that he'd +already pretty well made up his mind. And the crew was positive. They +drew back sullenly, staring at us like animals studying a human +hunter, and they didn't like it when Peters took Grundy to lock him +into his room. Muller finally chased them out, and left Wilcox and me +alone. + +Wilcox shrugged wryly, brushing dirt off his too-clean uniform. "While +you're here, Tremaine, why not look my section over? You've been +neglecting me." + +I'd borrowed Muller's keys and inspected the engine room from, top to +bottom the night before, but I didn't mention that. I hesitated now; +to a man who grew up to be an engineer and who'd now gotten over his +psychosis against space too late to start over, the engines were +things better left alone. Then I remembered that I hadn't seen +Wilcox's quarters, since he had the only key to them. + +I nodded and went inside. The engines were old, and the gravity +generator was one of the first models. But Wilcox knew his business. +The place was slick enough, and there was the good clean smell of +metal working right. I could feel the controls in my hands, and my +nerves itched as I went about making a perfunctory token examination. +I even opened the fuel lockers and glanced in. The two crewmen watched +with hard eyes, slitted as tight as Grundy's, but they didn't bother +me. Then I shrugged, and went back with Wilcox to his tiny cabin. + + * * * * * + +I was hit by the place before I got inside. Tiny, yes, but fixed up +like the dream of every engineer. Clean, neat, filled with books and +luxuries. He even had a tape player I'd seen on sale for a trifle over +three thousand dollars. He turned it on, letting the opening bars of +Haydn's Oxford Symphony come out. It was a binaural, ultra-fidelity +job, and I could close my eyes and feel the orchestra in front of me. + +This time I was thorough, right down the line, from the cabinets that +held luxury food and wine to the little drawer where he kept his +dress-suit studs; they might have been rutiles, but I had a hunch they +were genuine catseyes. + +He laughed when I finished, and handed me a glass of the first decent wine +I'd tasted in months. "Even a small ozonator to make the air seem more +breathable, and a dehumidifier, Tremaine. I like to live decently. I +started saving my money once with the idea of getting a ship of my own--" +There was a real dream in his eyes for a second. Then he shrugged. "But +ships got bigger and more expensive. So I decided to live. At forty, I've +got maybe twenty years ahead here, and I mean to enjoy it. And--well, +there are ways of making a bit extra...." + +I nodded. So it's officially smuggling to carry a four-ounce Martian +fur to Earth where it's worth a fortune, considering the legal duty. +But most officers did it now and then. He put on Sibelius' Fourth +while I finished the wine. "If this mess is ever over, Paul, or you +get a chance, drop down," he said. "I like a man who knows good +things--and I liked your reaction when you spotted that Haydn for +Hohmann's recording. Muller pretends to know music, but he likes the +flashiness of Mohlwehr." + +Hell, I'd cut my eye teeth on that stuff; my father had been first +violinist in an orchestra, and had considered me a traitor when I was +born without perfect pitch. We talked about Sibelius for awhile, +before I left to go out into the stinking rest of the ship. Grundy was +sitting before the engines, staring at them. Wilcox had said the big +ape liked to watch them move ... but he was supposed to be locked up. + + * * * * * + +I stopped by Lomax's door; the shutter was open, and I could see the +big man writhing about, but he was apparently unconscious. Napier came +back from somewhere, and nodded quickly. + +"Concussion," he said. "He's still out, but it shouldn't be too +serious." + +"Grundy's loose." I'd expected surprise, but there was none. "Why?" + +He shrugged. "Muller claimed he needed his mate free to handle the +crew, and that there was no place the man could go. I think it was +because the men are afraid they'll be outnumbered by your group." His +mouth smiled, but it was suddenly bitter. "Jenny talked Pietro into +agreeing with Muller." + +Mess was on when I reached the group. I wasn't hungry. The wine had +cut the edge from my appetite, and the slow increase of poison in the +air was getting me, as it was the others. Sure, carbon dioxide isn't a +real poison--but no organism can live in its own waste, all the same. +I had a rotten headache. I sat there playing a little game I'd +invented--trying to figure which ones I'd eliminate if some had to +die. Jenny laughed up at Muller, and I added him to the list. Then I +changed it, and put her in his place. I was getting sick of the little +witch, though I knew it would be different if she'd been laughing up +at me. And then, because of the sick-calf look on Bill Sanderson's +face as he stared at Eve, I added him, though I'd always liked the +guy. Eve, surprisingly, had as many guys after her as Jenny; but she +didn't seem interested. Or maybe she did--she'd pulled her hair back +and put on a dress that made her figure look good. Either flattery was +working, or she was entering into the last-days feeling most of us +had. + +Napier came in and touched my shoulder. "Lomax is conscious, and he's +asking for you," he said, too low for the others to hear. + +I found the chemist conscious, all right, but sick--and scared. His +face winced, under all the bandages, as I opened the door. Then he saw +who it was, and relaxed. "Paul--what happened to me? The last I +remember is going up to see that second batch of plants poisoned. +But--well, this is something I must have got later...." + +I told him, as best I could. "But don't you remember anything?" + +"Not a thing about that. It's the same as Napier told me, and I've +been trying to remember. Paul, you don't think--?" + +I put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back gently. "Don't be a +damned fool, Hal. I know you're no killer." + +"But somebody is, Paul. Somebody tried to kill me while I was +unconscious!" + +He must have seen my reaction. "They did, Paul. I don't know how I +know--maybe I almost came to--but somebody tried to poke a stick +through the door with a knife on it. They want to kill me." + +[Illustration] + +I tried to calm him down until Napier came and gave him a sedative. +The doctor seemed as sick about Hal's inability to remember as I was, +though he indicated it was normal enough in concussion cases. "So is +the hallucination," he added. "He'll be all right tomorrow." + +In that, Napier was wrong. When the doctor looked in on him the next +time, the big chemist lay behind a door that had been pried open, with +a long galley knife through his heart. On the bloody sheet, his finger +had traced something in his own blood. + +"_It was_...." But the last "s" was blurred, and there was nothing +more. + + +IV + +I don't know how many were shocked at Hal's death, or how many looked +around and counted one less pair of lungs. He'd never been one of the +men I'd envied the air he used, though, and I think most felt the +same. For awhile, we didn't even notice that the air was even thicker. + +Phil Riggs broke the silence following our inspection of Lomax's +cabin. "That damned Bullard! I'll get him, I'll get him as sure as he +got Hal!" + +There was a rustle among the others, and a suddenly crystallized hate +on their faces. But Muller's hoarse shout cut through the babble that +began, and rose over even the anguished shrieking of the cook. "Shut +up, the lot of you! Bullard couldn't have committed the other crimes. +Any one of you is a better suspect. Stop snivelling, Bullard, this +isn't a lynching mob, and it isn't going to be one!" + +"What about Grundy?" Walt Harris yelled. + +Wilcox pushed forward. "Grundy couldn't have done it. He's the logical +suspect, but he was playing rummy with my men." + +The two engine men nodded agreement, and we began filing back to the +mess hall, with the exception of Bullard, who shoved back into a +niche, trying to avoid us. Then, when we were almost out of his sight, +he let out a shriek and came blubbering after us. + +I watched them put Hal Lomax's body through the 'tween-hulls lock, and +turned toward the engine room; I could use some of that wine, just as +the ship could have used a trained detective. But the idea of watching +helplessly while the engines purred along to remind me I was just a +handyman for the rest of my life got mixed up with the difficulty of +breathing the stale air, and I started to turn back. My head was +throbbing, and for two cents I'd have gone out between the hulls +beside Lomax and the others and let the foul air spread out there and +freeze.... + +The idea was slow coming. Then I was running back toward the engines. +I caught up with Wilcox just before he went into his own quarters. +"Wilcox!" + +He swung around casually, saw it was me, and motioned inside. "How +about some Bartok, Paul? Or would you rather soothe your nerves with +some first-rate Buxtehude organ...." + +"Damn the music," I told him. "I've got a wild idea to get rid of this +carbon dioxide, and I want to know if we can get it working with what +we've got." + +He snapped to attention at that. Half-way through my account, he +fished around and found a bottle of Armagnac. "I get it. If we pipe +our air through the passages between the hulls on the shadow side, it +will lose its heat in a hurry. And we can regulate its final +temperature by how fast we pipe it through--just keep it moving enough +to reach the level where carbon dioxide freezes out, but the oxygen +stays a gas. Then pass it around the engines--we'll have to cut out +the normal cooling set-up, but that's okay--warm it up.... Sure, I've +got equipment enough for that. We can set it up in a day. Of course, +it won't give us any more oxygen, but we'll be able to breathe what we +have. To success, Paul!" + +I guess it was good brandy, but I swallowed mine while calling Muller +down, and never got to taste it. + +It's surprising how much easier the air got to breathe after we'd +double-checked the idea. In about fifteen minutes, we were all milling +around in the engine room, while Wilcox checked through equipment. But +there was no question about it. It was even easier than we'd thought. +We could simply bypass the cooling unit, letting the engine housings +stay open to the between-hulls section; then it was simply a matter of +cutting a small opening into that section at the other end of the ship +and installing a sliding section to regulate the amount of air flowing +in. The exhaust from the engine heat pumps was reversed, and run out +through a hole hastily knocked in the side of the wall. + +Naturally, we let it flow too fast at first. Space is a vacuum, which +means it's a good insulator. We had to cut the air down to a trickle. +Then Wilcox ran into trouble because his engines wouldn't cool with +that amount of air. He went back to supervise a patched-up job of +splitting the coolers into sections, which took time. But after that, +we had it. + +I went through the hatch with Muller and Pietro. With air there there +was no need to wear space suits, but it was so cold that we could take +it for only a minute or so. That was long enough to see a faint, fine +mist of dry ice snow falling. It was also long enough to catch a sight +of the three bodies there. I didn't enjoy that, and Pietro gasped. +Muller grimaced. When we came back, he sent Grundy in to move the +bodies to a hull-section where our breathing air wouldn't pass over +them. It wasn't necessary, of course. But somehow, it seemed +important. + +By lunch, the air seemed normal. We shipped only pure oxygen at about +three pounds pressure, instead of loading it with a lot of useless +nitrogen. With the carbon dioxide cut back to normal levels, it was as +good as ever. The only difference was that the fans had to be set to +blow in a different pattern. We celebrated, and even Bullard seemed to +have perked up. He dug out pork chops and almost succeeded in making +us cornbread out of some coarse flour I saw him pouring out of the +food chopper. He had perked up enough to bewail the fact that all he +had was canned spinach instead of turnip greens. + +But by night, the temper had changed--and the food indicated it again. +Bullard's cooking was turning into a barometer of the psychic +pressure. We'd had time to realize that we weren't getting something +for nothing. Every molecule of carbon-dioxide that crystallized out +took two atoms of oxygen with it, completely out of circulation. + + * * * * * + +We were also losing water-vapor, we found; normally, any one of our +group knew enough science to know that the water would fall out before +the carbon dioxide, but we hadn't thought of it. We took care of that, +however, by having Wilcox weld in a baffle and keep the section where +the water condensed separate from the carbon dioxide snowfall. We +could always shovel out the real ice, and meantime the ship's controls +restored the moisture to the air easily enough. + +But there was nothing we could do about the oxygen. When that was +gone, it stayed gone. The plants still took care of about two-thirds +of our waste--but the other third was locked out there between the +hulls. Given plants enough, we could have thawed it and let them +reconvert it; a nice idea, except that we had to wait three months to +take care of it, if we lived that long. + +Bullard's cooking began to get worse. Then suddenly, we got one good +meal. Eve Nolan came down the passage to announce that Bullard was +making cake, with frosting, canned huckleberry pie, and all the works. +We headed for the mess hall, fast. + +It was the cook's masterpiece. Muller came down late, though, and +regarded it doubtfully. "There's something funny," he said as he +settled down beside me. Jenny had been surrounded by Napier and +Pietro. "Bullard came up babbling a few minutes ago. I don't like it. +Something about eating hearty, because he'd saved us all, forever and +ever. He told me the angels were on our side, because a beautiful +angel with two halos came to him in his sleep and told him how to save +us. I chased him back to the galley, but I don't like it." + +Most of them had already eaten at least half of the food, but I saw +Muller wasn't touching his. The rest stopped now, as the words sank +in, and Napier looked shocked. "No!" he said, but his tone wasn't +positive. "He's a weakling, but I don't think he's insane--not enough +to poison us." + +"There was that food poisoning before," Pietro said suddenly. "Paul, +come along. And don't eat anything until we come back." + +We broke the record getting to the galley. There Bullard sat, beaming +happily, eating from a huge plate piled with the food he had cooked. I +checked on it quickly--and there wasn't anything he'd left out. He +looked up, and his grin widened foolishly. + +"Hi, docs," he said. "Yes, sir, I knowed you'd be coming. It all came +to me in a dream. Looked just like my wife twenty years ago, she did, +with green and yellow halos. And she told it to me. Told me I'd been a +good man, and nothing was going to happen to me. Not to good old Emery +Bullard. Had it all figgered out." + +He speared a big forkful of food and crammed it into his mouth, +munching noisily. "Had it all figgered. Pop-corn. Best damned pop-corn +you ever saw, kind they raise not fifty miles from where I was born. +You know, I didn't useta like you guys. But now I love everybody. When +we get to Saturn, I'm gonna make up for all the times I didn't give +you pop-corn. We'll pop and we'll pop. And beans, too. I useta hate +beans. Always beans on a ship. But now we're saved, and I love +beans!" + +He stared after us, half coming out of his seat. "Hey, docs, ain't you +gonna let me tell you about it?" + +"Later, Bullard," Pietro called back. "Something just came up. We want +to hear all about it." + + * * * * * + +Inside the mess hall, he shrugged. "He's eating the food himself. If +he's crazy, he's in a happy stage of it. I'm sure he isn't trying to +poison us." He sat down and began eating, without any hesitation. + +I didn't feel as sure, and suspected he didn't. But it was too late to +back out. Together, we summarized what he'd told us, while Napier +puzzled over it. Finally the doctor shrugged. "Visions. Euphoria. +Disconnection with reality. Apparently something of a delusion that +he's to save the world. I'm not a psychiatrist, but it sounds like +insanity to me. Probably not dangerous. At least, while he wants to +save us, we won't have to worry about the food. Still...." + +Wilcox mulled it over, and resumed the eating he had neglected before. + +"Grundy claimed he'd been down near the engine room, trying to get +permission to pop something in the big pile. I thought Grundy was just +getting his stories mixed up. But--pop-corn!" + +"I'll have him locked in his cabin," Muller decided. He picked up the +nearest handset, saw that it was to the galley, and switched quickly. +"Grundy, lock Bullard up. And no rough stuff this time." Then he +turned to Napier. "Dr. Napier, you'll have to see him and find out +what you can." + +I guess there's a primitive fear of insanity in most of us. We felt +sick, beyond the nagging worry about the food. Napier got up at once. +"I'll give him a sedative. Maybe it's just nerves, and he'll snap out +of it after a good sleep. Anyhow, your mate can stand watching." + +"Who can cook?" Muller asked. His eyes swung down the table toward +Jenny. + +I wondered how she'd get out of that. Apparently she'd never told +Muller about the scars she still had from spilled grease, and how +she'd never forgiven her mother or been able to go near a kitchen +since. But I should have guessed. She could remember my stories, too. +Her eyes swung up toward mine pleadingly. + +Eve Nolan stood up suddenly. "I'm not only a good cook, but I enjoy +it," she stated flatly, and there was disgust in the look she threw at +Jenny. She swung toward me. "How about it, Paul, can you wrestle the +big pots around for me?" + +"I used to be a short order cook when I was finishing school," I told +her. But she'd ruined the line. The grateful look and laugh from Jenny +weren't needed now. And curiously, I felt grateful to Eve for it. I +got up and went after Napier. + +I found him in Bullard's little cubbyhole of a cabin. He must have +chased Grundy off, and now he was just drawing a hypo out of the +cook's arm. "It'll take the pain away," he was saying softly. "And +I'll see that he doesn't hit you again. You'll be all right, now. And +in the morning, I'll come and listen to you. Just go to sleep. Maybe +she'll come back and tell you more." + +He must have heard me, since he signalled me out with his hand, and +backed out quietly himself, still talking. He shut the door, and +clicked the lock. + +Bullard heard it, though. He jerked to a sitting position, and +screamed. "_No!_ No! He'll kill me! I'm a good man...." + +He hunched up on the bed, forcing the sheet into his mouth. When he +looked up a second later, his face was frozen in fear, but it was a +desperate, calm kind of fear. He turned to face us, and his voice +raised to a full shout, with every word as clear as he could make it. + +"All right. Now I'll never tell you the secret. Now you can all die +without air. I promise I'll never tell you what I know!" + +He fell back, beating at the sheet with his hand and sobbing +hysterically. Napier watched him. "Poor devil," the doctor said at +last. "Well, in another minute the shot will take effect. Maybe he's +lucky. He won't be worrying for awhile. And maybe he'll be rational +tomorrow." + +"All the same, I'm going to stand guard until Muller gets someone else +here," I decided. I kept remembering Lomax. + +Napier nodded, and half an hour later Bill Sanderson came to take over +the watch. Bullard was sleeping soundly. + +The next day, though, he woke up to start moaning and writhing again. +But he was keeping his word. He refused to answer any questions. +Napier looked worried as he reported he'd given the cook another shot +of sedative. There was nothing else he could do. + +Cooking was a relief, in a way. By the time Eve and I had scrubbed all +the pots into what she considered proper order, located some of the +food lockers, and prepared and served a couple of meals, we'd evolved +a smooth system that settled into a routine with just enough work to +help keep our minds off the dwindling air in the tanks. In anything +like a kitchen, she lost most of her mannish pose and turned into a +live, efficient woman. And she could cook. + +"First thing I learned," she told me. "I grew up in a kitchen. I guess +I'd never have turned to photography if my kid brother hadn't been +using our sink for his darkroom." + +Wilcox brought her a bottle of his wine to celebrate her first dinner. +He seemed to want to stick around, but she chased him off after the +first drink. We saved half the bottle to make a sauce the next day. + +It never got made. Muller called a council of war, and his face was +pinched and old. He was leaning on Jenny as Eve and I came into the +mess hall; oddly, she seemed to be trying to buck him up. He got down +to the facts as soon as all of us were together. + +"Our oxygen tanks are empty," he announced. "They shouldn't be--but +they are. Someone must have sabotaged them before the plants were +poisoned--and done it so the dials don't show it. I just found it out +when the automatic switch to a new tank failed to work. We now have +the air in the ship, and no more. Dr. Napier and I have figured that +this will keep us all alive with the help of the plants for no more +than fifteen days. I am open to any suggestions!" + + * * * * * + +There was silence after that, while it soaked in. Then it was broken +by a thin scream from Phil Riggs. He slumped into a seat and buried +his head in his hands. Pietro put a hand on the man's thin shoulders, +"Captain Muller--" + +"Kill 'em!" It was Grundy's voice, bellowing sharply. "Let'em breathe +space! They got us into it! We can make out with the plants left! It's +our ship!" + +Muller had walked forward. Now his fist lashed out, and Grundy +crumpled. He lay still for a second, then got to his feet unsteadily. +Jenny screamed, but Muller moved steadily back to his former place +without looking at the mate. Grundy hesitated, fumbled in his pocket +for something, and swallowed it. + +"Captain, sir!" His voice was lower this time. + +"Yes, Mr. Grundy?" + +"How many of us can live off the plants?" + +"Ten--perhaps eleven." + +"Then--then give us a lottery!" + +Pietro managed to break in over the yells of the rest of the crew. "I +was about to suggest calling for volunteers, Captain Muller. I still +have enough faith in humanity to believe...." + +"You're a fool, Dr. Pietro," Muller said flatly. "Do you think Grundy +would volunteer? Or Bullard? But thanks for clearing the air, and +admitting your group has nothing more to offer. A lottery seems to be +the only fair system." + +He sat down heavily. "We have tradition on this; in an emergency such +as this, death lotteries have been held, and have been considered +legal afterwards. Are there any protests?" + +I could feel my tongue thicken in my mouth. I could see the others +stare about, hoping someone would object, wondering if this could be +happening. But nobody answered, and Muller nodded reluctantly. "A +working force must be left. Some men are indispensable. We must have +an engineer, a navigator, and a doctor. One man skilled with +engine-room practice and one with deck work must remain." + +"And the cook goes," Grundy yelled. His eyes were intent and slitted +again. + +Some of both groups nodded, but Muller brought his fist down on the +table. "This will be a legal lottery, Mr. Grundy. Dr. Napier will draw +for him." + +"And for myself," Napier said. "It's obvious that ten men aren't going +on to Saturn--you'll have to turn back, or head for Jupiter. Jupiter, +in fact, is the only sensible answer. And a ship can get along without +a doctor that long when it has to. I demand my right to the draw." + +Muller only shrugged and laid down the rules. They were simple enough. +He would cut drinking straws to various lengths, and each would draw +one. The two deck hands would compare theirs, and the longer would be +automatically safe. The same for the pair from the engine-room. Wilcox +was safe. "Mr. Peters and I will also have one of us eliminated," he +added quietly. "In an emergency, our abilities are sufficiently +alike." + +The remaining group would have their straws measured, and the seven +shortest ones would be chosen to remove themselves into a vacant +section between hulls without air within three hours, or be forcibly +placed there. The remaining ten would head for Jupiter if no miracle +removed the danger in those three hours. + +Peters got the straws, and Muller cut them and shuffled them. There +was a sick silence that let us hear the sounds of the scissors with +each snip. Muller arranged them so the visible ends were even. "Ladies +first," he said. There was no expression on his face or in his voice. + +Jenny didn't giggle, but neither did she balk. She picked a straw, and +then shrieked faintly. It was obviously a long one. Eve reached for +hers-- + +And Wilcox yelled suddenly. "Captain Muller, protest! Protest! You're +using all long straws for the women!" He had jumped forward, and now +struck down Muller's hand, proving his point. + +"You're quite right, Mr. Wilcox," Muller said woodenly. He dropped his +hand toward his lap and came up with a group of the straws that had +been cut, placed there somehow without our seeing it. He'd done a +smooth job of it, but not smooth enough. "I felt some of you would +notice it, but I also felt that gentlemen would prefer to see ladies +given the usual courtesies." + +He reshuffled the assorted straws, and then paused. "Mr. Tremaine, +there was a luxury liner named the _Lauri Ellu_ with an assistant +engineer by your name; and I believe you've shown a surprising +familiarity with certain customs of space. A few days ago, Jenny +mentioned something that jogged my memory. Can you still perform the +duties of an engineer?" + +Wilcox had started to protest at the delay. Now shock ran through him. +He stared unbelievingly from Muller to me and back, while his face +blanched. I could guess what it must have felt like to see certain +safety cut to a 50 per cent chance, and I didn't like the way Muller +was willing to forget until he wanted to take a crack at Wilcox for +punishment. But.... + +"I can," I answered. And then, because I was sick inside myself for +cutting under Wilcox, I managed to add, "But I--I waive my chance at +immunity!" + +"Not accepted," Muller decided. "Jenny, will you draw?" + +It was pretty horrible. It was worse when the pairs compared straws. +The animal feelings were out in the open then. Finally, Muller, +Wilcox, and two crewmen dropped out. The rest of us went up to measure +our straws. + +It took no more than a minute. I stood staring down at the ruler, +trying to stretch the tiny thing I'd drawn. I could smell the sweat +rising from my body. But I knew the answer. I had three hours left! + + * * * * * + +"Riggs, Oliver, Nolan, Harris, Tremaine, Napier and Grundy," Muller +announced. + +A yell came from Grundy. He stood up, with the engine man named +Oliver, and there was a gun in his hand. "No damned big brain's +kicking me off my ship," he yelled. "You guys know me. Hey, +_roooob_!" + +Oliver was with him, and the other three of the crew sprang into the +group. I saw Muller duck a shot from Grundy's gun, and leap out of the +room. Then I was in it, heading for Grundy. Beside me, Peters was +trying to get a chair broken into pieces. I felt something hit my +shoulder, and the shock knocked me downward, just as a shot whistled +over my head. + +Gravity cut off! + +Someone bounced off me. I got a piece of the chair that floated by, +found the end cracked and sharp, and tried to spin towards Grundy, but +I couldn't see him. I heard Eve's voice yell over the other shouts. I +spotted the plate coming for me, but I was still in midair. It came on +steadily, edge on, and I felt it break against my forehead. Then I +blacked out. + + +V + +I had the grandaddy of all headaches when I came to. Doc Napier's face +was over me, and Jenny and Muller were working on Bill Sanderson. +There was a surprisingly small and painful lump on my head. Pietro and +Napier helped me up, and I found I could stand after a minute. + +There were four bodies covered with sheets on the floor. "Grundy, Phil +Riggs, Peters and a deckhand named Storm," Napier said. "Muller gave +us a whiff of gas and not quite in time." + +"Is the time up?" I asked. It was the only thing I could think of. + +Pietro shook his head sickly. "Lottery is off. Muller says we'll have +to hold another, since Storm and Peters were supposed to be safe. But +not until tomorrow." + +Eve came in then, lugging coffee. Her eyes found me, and she managed a +brief smile. "I gave the others coffee," she reported to Muller. +"They're pretty subdued now." + +"Mutiny!" Muller helped Jenny's brother to his feet and began helping +him toward the door. "Mutiny! And I have to swallow that!" + +Pietro watched him go, and handed Eve back his cup. "And there's no +way of knowing who was on which side. Dr. Napier, could you do +something...." + +He held out his hands that were shaking, and Napier nodded. "I can use +a sedative myself. Come on back with me." + +Eve and I wandered back to the kitchen. I was just getting my senses +back. The damned stupidity of it all. And now it would have to be +done over. Three of us still had to have our lives snuffed out so the +others could live--and we all had to go through hell again to find out +which. + +Eve must have been thinking the same. She sank down on a little stool, +and her hand came out to find mine. "For what? Paul, whoever poisoned +the plants knew it would go this far! He had to! What's to be gained? +Particularly when he'd have to go through all this, too! He must have +been crazy!" + +"Bullard couldn't have done it," I said slowly. + +"Why should it be Bullard? How do we know he was insane? Maybe when he +was shouting that he wouldn't tell, he was trying to make a bribe to +save his own life. Maybe he's as scared as we are. Maybe he was making +sense all along, if we'd only listened to him. He--" + +She stood up and started back toward the lockers, but I caught her +hand. "Eve, he wouldn't have done it--the killer--if he'd had to go +through the lottery! He knew he was safe! That's the one thing we've +been overlooking. The man to suspect is the only man who could be sure +he would get back! My God, we saw him juggle those straws to save +Jenny! He knew he'd control the lottery." + +She frowned. "But ... Paul, he practically suggested the lottery! +Grundy brought it up, but he was all ready for it." The frown +vanished, then returned. "But I still can't believe it." + +"He's the one who wanted to go back all the time. He kept insisting on +it, but he had to get back without violating his contract." I grabbed +her hand and started toward the nose of the ship, justifying it to her +as I went. "The only man with a known motive for returning, the only +one completely safe--and we didn't even think of it!" + +She was still frowning, but I wasn't wasting time. We came up the +corridor to the control room. Ahead the door was slightly open, and I +could hear a mutter of Jenny's voice. Then there was the tired rumble +of Muller. + +"I'll find a way, baby. I don't care how close they watch, we'll make +it work. Pick the straw with the crimp in the end--I can do that, even +if I can't push one out further again. I tell you, nothing's going to +happen to you." + +"But Bill--" she began. + +I hit the door, slamming it open. Muller sat on a narrow couch with +Jenny on his lap. I took off for him, not wasting a good chance when +he was handicapped. But I hadn't counted on Jenny. She was up, and +her head banged into my stomach before I knew she was coming. I felt +the wind knocked out, but I got her out of my way--to look up into the +muzzle of a gun in Muller's hands. + +"You'll explain this, Mr. Tremaine," he said coldly. "In ten seconds, +I'll have an explanation or a corpse." + +"Go ahead," I told him. "Shoot, damn you! You'll get away with this, +too, I suppose. Mutiny, or something. And down in that rotten soul of +yours, I suppose you'll be gloating at how you made fools of us. The +only man on board who was safe even from a lottery, and we couldn't +see it. Jenny, I hope you'll be happy with this butcher. Very happy!" + +He never blinked. "Say that about the only safe man aboard again," he +suggested. + +I repeated it, with details. But he didn't like my account. He turned +to Eve, and motioned for her to take it up. She was frowning harder, +and her voice was uncertain, but she summed up our reasons quickly +enough. + +And suddenly Muller was on his feet. "Mr. Tremaine, for a damned +idiot, you have a good brain. You found the key to the problem, even +if you couldn't find the lock. Do you know what happens to a captain +who permits a death lottery, even what I called a legal one? He +doesn't captain a liner--he shoots himself after he delivers his ship, +if he's wise! Come on, we'll find the one indispensable man. You stay +here, Jenny--you too, Eve!" + +Jenny whimpered, but stayed. Eve followed, and he made no comment. And +then it hit me. The man who had _thought_ he was indispensable, and +hence safe--the man I'd naturally known in the back of my head could +be replaced, though no one else had known it until a little while ago. + +"He must have been sick when you ran me in as a ringer," I said, as we +walked down toward the engine hatch. "But why?" + +"I've just had a wild guess as to part of it," Muller said. + + * * * * * + +Wilcox was listening to the Buxtehude when we shoved the door of his +room open, and he had his head back and eyes closed. He snapped to +attention, and reached out with one hand toward a drawer beside him. +Then he dropped his arm and stood up, to cut off the tape player. + +"Mr. Wilcox," Muller said quietly, holding the gun firmly on the +engineer. "Mr. Wilcox, I've detected evidence of some of the Venus +drugs on your two assistants for some time. It's rather hard to miss +the signs in their eyes. I've also known that Mr. Grundy was an +addict. I assumed that they were getting it from him naturally. And as +long as they performed their duties, I couldn't be choosy on an old +ship like this. But for an officer to furnish such drugs--and to +smuggle them from Venus for sale to other planets--is something I +cannot tolerate. It will make things much simpler if you will +surrender those drugs to me. I presume you keep them in those bottles +of wine you bring aboard?" + +Wilcox shook his head slowly, settling back against the tape machine. +Then he shrugged and bowed faintly. "The chianti, sir!" + +I turned my head toward the bottles, and Eve started forward. Then I +yelled as Wilcox shoved his hand down toward the tape machine. The gun +came out on a spring as he touched it. + +Muller shot once, and the gun missed Wilcox's fingers as the +engineer's hand went to his hip, where blood was flowing. He collapsed +into the chair behind him, staring at the spot stupidly. "I cut my +teeth on _tough_ ships, Mr. Wilcox," Muller said savagely. + +The man's face was white, but he nodded slowly, and a weak grin came +onto his lips. "Maybe you didn't exaggerate those stories at that," he +conceded slowly. "I take it I drew a short straw." + +"Very short. It wasn't worth it. No profit from the piddling sale of +drugs is worth it." + +"There's a group of strings inside the number one fuel locker," Wilcox +said between his teeth. The numbness was wearing off, and the +shattered bones in his hip were beginning to eat at him. "Paul, pull +up one of the packages and bring it here, will you?" + +I found it without much trouble--along with a whole row of others, +fine cords cemented to the side of the locker. The package I drew up +weighed about ten pounds. Wilcox opened it and scooped out a +thimbleful of greenish powder. He washed it down with wine. + +"Fatal?" Muller asked. + +The man nodded. "In that dosage, after a couple of hours. But it cuts +out the pain--ah, better already. I won't feel it. Captain, I was +never piddling. Your ship has been the sole source of this drug to +Mars since a year or so after I first shipped on her. There are about +seven hundred pounds of pure stuff out there. Grundy and the others +would commit public murder daily rather than lose the few ounces a +year I gave them. Imagine what would happen when Pietro conscripted +the _Wahoo_ and no drugs arrived. The addicts find out no more is +coming--they look for the peddlers--and _they_ start looking for their +suppliers...." + +He shrugged. "There might have been time and ways, if I could have +gotten the ship back to Earth or Jupiter. It might have been +recommissioned into the Earth-Mars-Venus run, even. Pietro's +injunction caught me before I could transship, but with another +chance, I might have gotten the stuff to Mars in time.... Well, it was +a chance I took. Satisfied?" + + * * * * * + +Eve stared at him with horrified eyes. Maybe I was looking the same. +It was plain enough now. He'd planned to poison the plants and drive +us back. Murder of Hendrix had been a blunder when he'd thought it +wasn't working properly. "What about Sam?" I asked. + +"Blackmail. He was too smart. He'd been sure Grundy was smuggling the +stuff, and raking off from him. He didn't care who killed Hendrix as +much as how much Grundy would pay to keep his mouth shut--with murder +around, he figured Grundy'd get rattled. The fool did, and Sam smelled +bigger stakes. Grundy was bait to get him down near here. I killed +him." + +"And Lomax?" + +"I don't know. Maybe he was bluffing. But he kept going from room to +room with a pocketful of chemicals, making some kind of tests. I +couldn't take a chance on his being able to spot chromazone. So I had +Grundy give him my keys and tell him to go ahead--then jump him." + +And after that, when he wasn't quite killed, they'd been forced to +finish the job. Wilcox shrugged again. "I guess it got out of hand. +I'll make a tape of the whole story for you, Captain. But I'd +appreciate it if you'd get Napier down here. This is getting pretty +messy." + +"He's on the way," Eve said. We hadn't seen her call, but the doctor +arrived almost immediately afterwards. + +He sniffed the drug, and questioned us about the dose Wilcox had +taken. Then he nodded slowly. "About two hours, I'd say. No chance at +all to save him. The stuff is absorbed almost at once and begins +changing to something else in the blood. I'll be responsible, if you +want." + +Muller shrugged. "I suppose so. I'd rather deliver him in irons to a +jury, but.... Well, we still have a lottery to hold!" + +It jerked us back to reality sharply. Somehow, I'd been fighting off +the facts, figuring that finding the cause would end the results. But +even with Wilcox out of the picture, there were twelve of us left--and +air for only ten! + +Wilcox laughed abruptly. "A favor for a favor. I can give you a better +answer than a lottery." + +"Pop-corn! Bullard!" Eve slapped her head with her palm. "Captain, +give me the master key." She snatched it out of his hand and was gone +at a run. + +Wilcox looked disappointed, and then grinned. "Pop-corn and beans. I +overlooked them myself. We're a bunch of city hicks. But when Bullard +forgot his fears in his sleep, he remembered the answer--and got it so +messed up with his dream and his new place as a hero that my complaint +tipped the balance. Grundy put the fear of his God into him then. And +you didn't get it. Captain, you don't dehydrate beans and +pop-corn--they come that way naturally. You don't can them, either, if +you're saving weight. They're seeds--put them in tanks and they grow!" + +He leaned back, trying to laugh at us, as Napier finished dressing his +wound. "Bullard knows where the lockers are. And corn grows pretty +fast. It'll carry you through. Do I get that favor? It's simple +enough--just to have Beethoven's Ninth on the machine and for the +whole damned lot of you to get out of my cabin and let me die in my +own way!" + +Muller shrugged, but Napier found the tape and put it on. I wanted to +see the louse punished for every second of worry, for Lomax, for +Hendrix--even for Grundy. But there wasn't much use in vengeance at +this point. + +"You're to get all this, Paul," Wilcox said as we got ready to leave. +"Captain Muller, everything here goes to Tremaine. I'll make a tape on +that, too. But I want it to go to a man who can appreciate Hohmann's +conducting." + +Muller closed the door. "I guess it's yours," he admitted. "Now that +you're head engineer here, Mr. Tremaine, the cabin is automatically +yours. Take over. And get that junk in the fuel locker cleaned +out--except enough to keep your helpers going. They'll need it, and +we'll need their work." + +"I'll clean out his stuff at the same time," I said. "I don't want any +part of it." + +He smiled then, just as Eve came down with Bullard and Pietro. The fat +cook was sobered, but already beginning to fill with his own +importance. I caught snatches as they began to discuss Bullard's +knowledge of growing things. It was enough to know that we'd all +live, though it might be tough for a while. + +Then Muller gestured upwards. "You've got a reduced staff, Dr. Pietro. +Do you intend going on to Saturn?" + +"We'll go on," Pietro decided. And Muller nodded. They turned and +headed upwards. + +I stood staring at my engines. One of them was a touch out of phase +and I went over and corrected it. They'd be mine for over two +years--and after that, I'd be back on the lists. + +Eve came over beside me, and studied them with me. Finally she sighed +softly. "I guess I can see why you feel that way about them, Paul," +she said. "And I'll be coming down to look at them. But right now, +Bullard's too busy to cook, and everyone's going to be hungry when +they find we're saved." + +I chuckled, and felt the relief wash over me finally. I dropped my +hand from the control and caught hers--a nice, friendly hand. + +But at the entrance I stopped and looked back toward the cabin where +Wilcox lay. I could just make out the second movement of the Ninth +beginning. + +I never could stand the cheap blatancy of Hohmann's conducting. + + * * * * * + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Let'em Breathe Space, by Lester del Rey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LET'EM BREATHE SPACE *** + +***** This file should be named 31286.txt or 31286.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/2/8/31286/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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