Chapter 5
After that talk with Gail, I had my first thoughts of mutiny. But I’d been raised with a good, healthy respect for authority and, because most persons I’d come in contact with who had it, used judgment in administering it, I had seen no reason for changing my attitude. Even Spartan, when he was drilling us for this trip, had seemed to be right, in spite of his toughness. But as the earth grew smaller behind us, I began to look for allies, in case we were ever forced into a showdown with Spartan.
I wondered if Gail had been right when she said the others wouldn’t stand for any nonsense. I doubted if they would. Not all of them anyhow. Dr. Joel had suddenly seemed to discover that Dr. Spartan was a great man. Spartan fawned on Joel and Joel became Spartan’s slave, carrying his meals to him, posting Spartan’s orders, and acting as a self-appointed second-in-command.
Morrie might defend Gail, but he certainly wouldn’t raise a hand to keep Spartan from tossing me into the great out-yonder, if it came right down to it. Morrie was in the throes of puppy love for Gail. It showed in every move he made. Besides, the kid was upset. Homesick maybe. Or afraid. Everything was strange here and he longed for something familiar. He turned to Gail for comfort. And if Morrie were told of Spartan’s actions toward Gail, the young fellow was hot-headed enough to march into Spartan’s cabin and get himself—and me—in a jam.
Axel was steady, staunch and level-headed. But I hesitated about confiding in him. Like me, Axel had a respect for authority. He couldn’t take my unsupported word that Spartan meant to kill me and take Gail. Furthermore, I remembered that Axel had refused to accept Gail because he did not believe in the kind of marriage she proposed. Was that the real reason? Or did he know Spartan’s plans? Perhaps Axel was Spartan’s real second-in-command, ready to do the muscle work when the time came.
We were still in radio communication with the earth and I considered sending a message back. But what could I say? Spartan would claim I was space crazy. And the next message would tell the earth that in a fit of madness I’d jumped overboard. What proof could I offer in a message that Spartan had ever made his proposition to her? He’d just say she’d dreamed it. It was his word against hers.
Gail agreed when I told her this. “Perhaps he didn’t mean it the way it sounded,” she said.
“How else could he mean it?” I asked.
“Well, maybe he intended for me to take his cabin and he’d sleep somewhere else.”
“What about the bit where he said he had the power of life and death over us?”
“Well, he did mention that, but he might not have been serious. I don’t know what to think any more.” She sighed heavily. “And he does have the power of life and death, you know.”
We’d been talking together in the galley, alone over cups of instant coffee. Now the door opened and Morrie Grover came in. He gave Gail one of his looks, then turned to me.
“Pretty soft,” he said. “You got the only girl in umpteen million miles.”
I thought he was kidding and I replied in kind. “Yeah. We’re honeymooners. Can’t you leave us alone?”
“That wasn’t in the agreement,” he snapped. I knew then he wasn’t kidding.
Come to think of it, we’d all been a little edgy lately—ever since the earth had lost its grip on us. The pleasant feeling within our little group was no more. The honeymoon of the adventurers in space was just as phony as the honeymoon of Gail and me.
“What’s the matter, Morrie?” I asked. “Got an upset stomach, or do you just need a cup of coffee? We’ve got the coffee. Help yourself.”
“You’re a jerk,” said Morrie.
There was no doubt that I was as edgy as anyone. Otherwise, Morrie’s attitude would not have set me off. “You’re a punk,” I replied.
“Come off it, you two,” said Gail. “You’re acting like a couple of schoolboys.”
Morrie turned on Gail. “Are you in love with him?”
“Why—”
“What I mean is, why did you marry him?”
I grabbed him by the arm and swung him around. “It’s none of your business,” I said. “Now, do you lay off and behave like a grown-up man or do I belt you all the way through the main cabin?”
He swung at me. I ducked but, before I could do anything about it, Gail stepped between us. “Get out, Morrie!” she said, and then turned to me. “Bill Drake, you go back to the machinery room and find something to do there. We can’t afford a fight right now.”
As usual she was right. We calmed down and, out of respect for her, followed her advice.
As I said, I’d noticed that we all were edgy. Joel had sort of pulled his head into his shell like a turtle, and was having nothing to do with any of us, except Dr. Spartan, whom he followed around like a hound.
And Axel seemed preoccupied. I couldn’t put my finger on what had happened to him. I thought it was the same sort of space madness that was gripping us all.
“What we ought to do, Axel,” I said one day, in an effort to draw him out, “is to tell each other what’s bugging us, rather than to bottle it up inside.”
“Meaning me?” he asked.
“Meaning you,” I said. “You’ve been acting like the ghost at the banquet. I don’t even know whether I can call you a friend any more. What’s the trouble?”
Axel shook his head. “I’m not sure,” he said.
“Psychological? Depression?”
He gave me a crooked grin. “I wish it were something like that,” he replied. “Trouble is, I know what does it, but I’m damned if I know what it is.”
“Animal, vegetable or mineral?” I asked.
He started to get halfway cheerful. “I tried to tell Spartan about it and he accused me of imagining things,” he said. “I guess it won’t hurt to tell you. I’m getting some stuff on the radio I can’t explain.”
“Signals? From the earth?”
“Not from the earth. From the general direction of Mars.”
The way he said it, it sent chills up my spine and down again. “Somebody’s trying to signal us?”
“Sometimes I think so, sometimes not,” he replied with a heavy sigh. “The signals—if that’s what they are—are still very weak.”
“Damn it, Axel,” I said, “it’s ridiculous. If anybody were trying to signal us from Mars, it would mean they knew we were on our way.”
“Maybe they do,” he said tersely.
It was so damned fantastic, I hardly knew what to say. “But how?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, “but they could have radio, even radar—and they could be a million times better than ours.”
We talked about it for about an hour and Axel couldn’t add anything to what he’d already told me, which wasn’t much.
During the next few days Gail exerted herself trying to restore a friendly relationship between Morrie and me. I think it was more because Morrie wanted to win her approval than for any other reason that she succeeded, partially.
When we were off duty at the same time, she’d bring us together and try to engage us in conversation. The only trouble was, we’d run out of anything to talk about.
“If we could only invent a game!” she exclaimed in one of her desperate moods.
“Charades?” I asked.
“They make me sick,” said Morrie in his usual disagreeable manner.
“We don’t even have extra paper and pencil,” she went on. “All writing materials are under lock and key, being conserved for taking notes when we reach Mars.”
Suddenly Morrie smiled. “You know, I’m a little stupid,” he said. “I brought along a deck of cards.”
“You what?” Gail exclaimed.
And I gave him a look of surprise. Regulations had forbidden us to bring anything aboard—not even a toothbrush—because all personal items, excepting the one uniform we wore at the time, had already been stored on the Jehad. Spartan had announced, with his usual correctness, that every ounce we carried would require extra fuel to lift us off the earth.
Morrie got up and shuffled over to his locker at the end of the cabin. He opened it, unzipped the pocket of his spacesuit hanging there, and brought out a brand-new pack of cards.
“Morrie! You darling!” said Gail.
“Forgot I had ’em,” Morrie said, flushing with pleasure at Gail’s words. “I figured things were apt to get boring up here and Doc had mentioned we’d have very little to do. So I stuck them in my pocket when I came down to the pad and, when Doc wasn’t looking, put them in the pocket of my spacesuit.”
I glanced nervously toward the front of the ship. Spartan probably was in his cabin, or making sure Warner Joel was awake in the control room. Axel was directly above us, snoring gently in his sleeping bag.
“Anyone for gin rummy?” I asked.
Morrie sat down and broke the seal on the deck. At that instant Axel’s buzzer went off. The chronometer in the control room was attached to the buzzer which notified us five minutes before the end of each watch. Axel, who was to relieve Joel, stirred in his sleeping bag as he stopped snoring.
“Darn!” said Gail. “I’m next, and if I don’t get a little rest, I’ll go to sleep on duty and Doc Spartan will shoot me at sunrise.” Naturally, Spartan had made no such threat, but he did make sure no one slept on duty by bobbing in and out of the control room at irregular intervals. No one knew when he slept, but I supposed he took many short naps instead of a single, long sleep.
“Good morning, folks,” said Axel from the ceiling.
“You’re the only person who thinks it’s morning,” I said.
“Any time I wake up, it’s morning,” said Axel. “Miss Loring, do you mind getting out of here? I have to get into my clothes.”
Axel, like all of us, slept barefooted up to the ears and his clothing was in his locker at the end of the cabin.
“Next time think of the cards sooner, Morrie,” said Gail. “I guess there’ll be no gin rummy for me today.” She got up, went to the rear of the cabin and out the door toward her own quarters.
Axel wriggled out of his sleeping bag, put on his sandals and went to his locker. He noticed the cards Morrie was shuffling. “Where in hell did you find those?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Morrie. “We got ’em. Two-handed, Bill?”
“Sure. Deal ’em.”
Morrie and I were seated lengthwise with the ship, and the first card he dealt sailed clear to the partition at the far end. The artificial gravity didn’t pull the card to the deck as it would on earth. “Guess we’d better sit crosswise,” he said, retrieving the card.
We shifted so that no matter which way Morrie sailed the card it would be “down.” Axel dressed and then went into the control room. A few minutes later Dr. Joel came in. He saw us playing gin rummy.
“Good Lord! Interplanetary Las Vegas?”
“Want to join us, Warner?” I asked.
“Not for all the gold dust on the moon,” he said. “If Spartan ever sees you playing cards, he’ll hang you to an asteroid.”
He watched us play, glancing apprehensively toward the forward bulkhead as if he expected Spartan to burst in on us at any moment. Then, at last, he got up and went through the door. I was facing the bulkhead but I didn’t notice him leaving because I was trying to decide whether to gin or not. It was Morrie who heard the door open, whirling his head so suddenly it almost displaced him from his sitting position. “Hey!” he exclaimed, “Joel’s gone. Do you suppose he intends to rat on us?”
“Let him,” I said. “These cards are worth the powder it took to shoot ’em into space. They probably will preserve our sanity. That’s why Spartan can’t object.”
Morrie looked at me as if he didn’t know what to believe. I shrugged off his doubt, certain that Spartan was intelligent enough to see the cards weren’t hurting anything, even though they’d been brought aboard illegally.
I ginned and won. Morrie was reshuffling the cards to deal again when the door opened and Dr. Spartan, followed by Warner Joel, came into the cabin.
“Stop this immediately!” Spartan barked.
We turned our heads and looked at Spartan’s angry face. Then I noticed that he was wearing something new—a holster, holding a nickel-plated air pistol. A kid’s toy.
“Stand up!” Spartan said, his hand on the pistol butt.
For a moment I wondered if Gail had been right, that Spartan was capable of going in for a little capital punishment to pass the boring hours in space. Morrie and I got to our feet.
“Those things—” Spartan nodded his head toward the cards. “—are strictly against regulations. If you have time on your hands, you should use the projector and study the scientific works aboard. We can’t allow foolishness.”
“Damnit, Doctor,” I said, “all work and no play is going to turn this crew into a dull bunch of astronauts.”
“Nonsense,” said Spartan. “I forbid card playing. We’re not on the earth any more. We’re in space. Beyond terrestrial law. Beyond any standards and regulations that exist on our planet. We are, in effect, another world—and I rule this world. What I say is law and must be obeyed.”
Morrie stared at him, open-mouthed. But I had been warned about what to expect from Spartan. After all, he’d said about the same thing to Gail. “We’re not questioning your authority, sir,” I said. “And what we were doing was very innocent.”
“I’m the best judge of that. Give me the cards, Grover.”
Morrie hesitated, his face registering uncertainty.
Spartan drew the gun. “This is an air pistol,” he said, his manner imperious, his tone hard and relentless. “You understand the danger of a pistol aboard this craft. A bullet might puncture the walls or damage machinery. So I shoot a small dart which is impregnated with a mild, but very effective, poison. It will paralyze a man in a few seconds. Even a scratch on the skin will make you harmless. I can quell any sort of mutiny.”
“This isn’t mutiny!” I said, speaking with all the deference I could muster. “Sure, I’ll admit the cards aren’t supposed to be here, but they are. And they’re causing no harm. The capsule was lifted into orbit and the flight of this ship has been A-okay from the beginning. Now these cards are helping our morale, which needs a hell of a lot of help right now.”
Spartan pointed the gun at me. His jaw was set; his eyes were lifeless marble. “I have the power of life and death over every living thing on this ship,” he said.
When a man is threatened with a weapon, he sometimes gives up, but this puny little air gun pointed at me seemed harmless. Besides, I was angry. I took a step toward Spartan. I don’t believe I would have touched him. The step was just to prove I wasn’t afraid of him or the gun and I thought he was making too big an issue out of something very small.
Ping.
The gun went off and I felt a stinging sensation in my left arm. I raised it, plucked a tiny dart from the flesh. Suddenly my knees buckled and I collapsed on the deck.
I was not unconscious. I could hear Spartan telling Morrie to give him the cards. Morrie was too frightened to disobey.
“Put the cards in the waste disposal, Dr. Joel,” said Spartan.
“Yes, sir.” Warner Joel’s voice had a tremor in it.
I tried to call him a stool pigeon, but my vocal chords wouldn’t work.
“For this disobedience, Bill Drake will have twenty extra tours of duty in the next twenty days,” said Spartan. “For wasting time, Morrie Grover will have ten extra tours. We need two men in the control room now, so each of you will take his extra turns in company with another member of the crew.”
Five hours later, when Gail came through the cabin to relieve Axel at the controls, I was just regaining use of my muscles. Morrie explained to her what had happened.
“Get some antiseptic,” she said, examining my wound.
“No need,” I said hoarsely. “Ship’s been sterilized. No germs aboard.”
She examined the wound. “It’s sort of deep,” she said. “The beast! He just wanted to throw his weight around.”
“He’ll be tough to get along with from now on, Gail,” I said. “Mind if I take my extra duty with you?”
Morrie scowled and said nothing.
“No, Bill. Some of the time anyhow. Part of the watch I’ll share with Morrie.” I heard him release his breath. “Now listen, Bill. I know you’re angry with Spartan, but you’ve got to be careful. I think you understand why. We’ve got to keep him from doing anything more rash than this.”
I was able to nod my head. I had to get along with the bastard. Not only my life, but her safety depended on it.