Chapter 8
Crouching, I awaited Morrie’s onslaught. He held the aluminum pipe—about a three-foot length—biding his time, his mouth twisting in bitter frustration. I remember thinking how lucky I was that the improvised weapon was aluminum and not heavy iron. Small consolation, I thought. He can certainly knock me out with it.
But Morrie’s angry face showed more than a desire to make me unconscious. He had the wild eyes of a madman, and there was murder in his movements.
He swung the pipe. I ducked and it passed so close to my skull that I could feel it brush through my hair. The force of the blow tore his feet from the floor and he sailed upward, glancing off the garden trays so that he turned a somersault and came down on his feet above my head.
I sprang at him. He stepped aside and swung the pipe, catching me a glancing blow on the shoulder and knocking me across the ship and against the water purifier. The machine was already a shambles, both of us having hit it. The steam spurted into the room—water dripped on the floor.
Bruised and cautious, I shuffled around the ship toward him. He stood waving the pipe like a batter in a baseball game, determined not to miss again. I could see it in his eyes.
I moved within reach and he struck. But this time I didn’t dodge. I caught the blow on my arm. Pain shot through it, but I’d caught the blow soon enough to prevent the full force from breaking the bone. As it hit, I seized the pipe with my other hand and twisted it sharply. It came out of Morrie’s grasp.
He lunged toward me. I threw him back with a punch aimed at his chin, landing on his chest instead. He crouched to attack and I threw the pipe at him. Once more I didn’t figure on the ten per cent gravity. The pipe went over his head and crashed into the bulkhead at the other end of the ship.
He sprang and I caught him. We stood with our magnetized shoes anchored to the floor, swinging, ducking, punching, each now angry enough to kill. We were about evenly matched as far as muscles and weight were concerned, but Morrie was showing the strength of a maniac. My punch staggered him but did no real damage. He came back and feinted. I suckered and he brought two punches against my chin and belly that sent me to the floor. Only the fact that I rolled with the punches kept me from being kayoed. He tried to dive on me, but I scrambled out of the way. We were both beginning to show some signs of damage. I had a soreness in the belly where he’d landed his blow, and his cheek had been cut by my knuckles. He dived at me again. I scored on his chin but he managed to get me in a clinch.
We wrestled, partly on the floor, partly floating near the garden trays and the cable housing in the center of the compartment. Suddenly he grasped my shoulders and brought up his knee.
It caught me in the groin and I screamed with pain.
Somehow I caught one of the trays and hurled myself out of reach, but as I hit the floor I could hardly move. All the fight left me with that blow. Somewhere, I heard Gail calling: “Bill! Get up!”
It was no use. I couldn’t move my arms or legs.
Morrie hesitated a moment. Then, deciding that I was helpless, he pushed himself to the bulkhead where the length of pipe lay. He meant to use it in an attempt to beat me to death. He reached the weapon, picked it up and held it a moment in his hand as he turned a savage look toward me.
He came toward me, certain that I was no longer able to defend myself. I rolled away, the pain nearly killing me. Then I wrapped my legs around his and tripped him, in spite of the pain in my groin. He dropped the pipe as he fell.
Holding him tightly with a scissors grip, I lay there, inhaling deeply, trying to rid my body of pain. Morrie turned and twisted, trying to break free. With each movement he was sliding, until finally he was free.
I rolled over and got to my knees, waiting for his next rush. I needed all the time I could get to regain my strength. Knowing this, Morrie wasted no time. He got ready to leap again.
Then I saw Gail. She had picked up the pipe Morrie had dropped. She moved toward him, holding it high, ready to strike. My eyes, watching her, gave her away. Morrie saw my glance and turned just as she was ready to strike. He warded off the blow with his left arm, just as I’d done early in the fight, then he swung hard with his right. The punch landed solidly on Gail’s jaw. She gave a startled moan of pain as she went down to the floor.
That did more than all the resting in the world for me. The pain seemed to leave my body for a moment. At least I didn’t feel it any more. All that was left was a desire to pound Morrie Grover into a shapeless pulp because he had struck Gail with his fist. I hit him like a truck.
He went down and I fell on top of him. Holding him with my knees on his stomach I punched his face, his nose, his mouth, his jaw. Left, right. Left, right. One, two and again one, two. Morrie’s head lolled with the punches and he was out. And then my strength left me. I fell over his unconscious body in a faint.
The darkness seemed to float away as I felt a cooling moisture on my face. I opened my eyes and saw Gail bending over me. Her clothing was in so many rags she looked naked. She had taken a strip of torn cloth, moistened it under the leaking water purifier, and was bathing my battered face.
I turned my head and saw Axel and Dr. Spartan coming through the bulkhead door.
“What in the devil happened here?” Spartan snarled.
“Grover,” said Gail, nodding toward Morrie, who was trying to lift himself off the floor.
“He’s hurt!” said Axel.
“Attend to him,” said Spartan. Then he turned to Gail. “And Drake? Were they fighting? Over you?”
Gail stopped bathing my face. She began to sob. I sat up straight now.
“Stop tormenting her!” I said, my anger rising to choke me.
“Sir!” said Spartan. He always insisted we call him sir. Now that bit of rank pulling seemed more important to him than ever. His eyes showed steel-hard determination to force me into submission; his lips were tight with hatred.
“I said ‘Stop tormenting her!’ and I didn’t say sir!” I shouted. “Morrie tried to rape her. Can’t you figure that out?”
“Sir!” Spartan snapped. “And how do I know you weren’t the one who tried it?”
“Because, damn you, SIR, I’m her husband!”
Spartan’s face flushed angrily. “That’s no way to talk to your superior officer!” he snapped. “For this impertinence—”
He stopped in the middle of pronouncing sentence as his eyes fell on the water-purifying apparatus.
“You’ve wrecked it!” he shouted and sprang to examine it.
Axel was holding Morrie upright now and Gail resumed bathing my bruised face with refreshing water. “Let me have some of that water,” said Axel, ripping out a torn piece of Morrie’s T-shirt.
Spartan swung around. “Stop wasting that water!” he roared. “Do you realize we’re dangerously short of water as a result of this foolishness?”
Gail continued to bathe my face with the damp cloth.
“Stop it!” thundered Spartan.
“Bill’s hurt,” she replied calmly.
“By his own idiocy.”
“Idiocy!” Gail stood up and faced Spartan. “If there’s an idiot aboard this ship, it’s you—you interplanetary Captain Bligh!”
Spartan didn’t move a muscle. His face was frozen into a mask of contempt and resentment. “Miss Loring,” he said, “just because you are a woman gives you no special privileges. I’m the captain of this ship, and I must be treated with respect.”
“Why don’t you do something to earn respect then?” she demanded, looking as though she might burst into tears at any moment.
“Ten days extra duty for you, Miss Loring,” he said. He turned and went to the bulkhead door. When he reached it, he turned to Axel. “As soon as these men are able, bring them into the main cabin. We’ll hold the court-martial there.”
He disappeared through the door. Axel got up and went over to the water purifier. He spent three or four minutes examining it. When he finished he looked very grim.
“Two of the four units are wrecked,” he said. “We may be on half rations of water for the next two years.”
When Morrie and I were able to get on our feet, we went into the main cabin, where Spartan was arranging Morrie’s spacesuit beside his sleeping bag. He gave us a frowning glance and beckoned to Axel, who went to where he was standing. They talked for a few minutes, discussing the damage to our water system. Only Joel was absent, being in the control room.
Finally Spartan turned to the rest of us. “Sit down,” he said.
He waited until we had arranged ourselves in front of him, Axel, Gail and I sitting cross-legged on the floor behind Morrie, who reclined on his elbows facing Spartan.
“Mr. Ludson has just told me that our water-cycling equipment is badly damaged,” Spartan said, seating himself. “Therefore, we will have to use less water, unless we can make repairs. The present outlook is very bad. The cycling units can now distill only half the amount we have been using.
“We can’t cut down on the amount of water we use to irrigate our garden. And we can’t prepare meals without water because we have to depend on dehydrated food. So we’ll have to use less water for drinking, washing and laundry.”
“Good heavens, Dr. Spartan! We can’t live in filth!” said Gail.
“Perhaps not,” said Spartan, “but when we wash, or do laundry, that water must come from our drinking supply. That will force us to hold unnecessary cleanliness to a minimum.”
It was obvious that we would be the dirtiest group of spacemen who ever made an interplanetary voyage.
“In addition,” Spartan went on, “No. Five motor is not functioning because it was hit by a meteor. We have yet to determine how badly it is damaged, but since it is important that we have that extra margin of safety, we must make every attempt to repair it. And if that isn’t enough trouble for us, two of our crew have engaged in a disgraceful brawl.”
“It was not a brawl!” said Gail.
“Miss Loring, I’ve warned you. I will increase your punishment if you continue with these remarks. I’ve called you together here to hold a court-martial to decide where to fix the blame for the damage to the water machinery. Now, Miss Loring, if you want to talk, you can tell me what happened.”
Gail, who had found time to put on another uniform, bowed her head.
“It is very embarrassing, Dr. Spartan—”
“It is necessary,” said Spartan.
Gail hesitated, collecting her thoughts. “When the meteor alarm was given I went to my station in the machinery room, which is nearest my quarters in the rear cupola of the ship—”
“We all know that. It is unnecessary to give these details,” said Spartan.
“After you gave the all-clear signal, Morrie—Mr. Grover—who had been in the kitchen, came in through the bulkhead and asked me if I was all right. After I told him I was, he broke down and began to cry. I felt sorry for him and went over and put my arm on his shoulders to cheer him up.”
“Are you sure, Miss Loring, that was the only reason you put your arm around him?” Spartan asked.
“I did not put my arm around him, Doctor,” Gail said succinctly. “Mr. Grover apparently had been under tremendous strain. As you know, he’s the youngest member of the crew.”
“He’s old enough to have mature emotions.”
“He has shown that his emotions are definitely not mature,” Gail replied. “As I said before, I tried to cheer him up, but he—like other people I could name—put a different interpretation on an innocent gesture. He threw his arms around me and kissed me. He said some wild things about being in love with me. I tried to push him away, explaining that I was a married woman—”
“We all understand about that marriage,” Morrie broke in.
“Nevertheless, I made promises at that ceremony and I intend to keep them until Bill Drake is no longer my husband,” she replied. “I thought Morrie was out of his head. Then, before I knew it, he began to tear off my clothing. I tried to struggle but he held me so tightly I couldn’t. Then Bill Drake appeared. He threw Mr. Grover across the room, and Morrie tore a piece of pipe from the condenser and they—they fought.”
“Then it was Drake who threw Grover into the machinery?” Spartan asked.
“Yes,” replied Gail. “But it wasn’t intentional.”
“It may not have been intentional!” Spartan snarled, “but it has endangered the success of this expedition.”
“Morrie also knocked Bill Drake into the machinery,” she said. She was calling Morrie by a single name and me by my full name. Suddenly I sensed that in using my complete name she was not being formal. On the contrary, she had turned it into a term of endearment. It was as if she savored the full name, rather than any kind of abbreviation.
“Humph! And are you sure you never, at any time, encouraged Mr. Grover to make these—uh—advances?”
“Of course not!”
Spartan turned to Morrie. “What do you have to say?” It was obvious that he hoped Morrie could successfully refute the story told by Gail.
Morrie shrugged, his whole manner noncommittal.
“I want an answer,” said Spartan. “Is she telling the truth?” He was driving for the answer he wanted.
Morrie breathed deeply. “What is the truth, Dr. Spartan?” he asked.
“Surely you know the truth.” An incredulous look sprang to his face.
“Don’t act so damned dogmatic. The truth can be a dozen different things. Right now I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t. Nothing is the same out here as it was on the earth. Everything familiar is millions of miles away. Even the earth looks like a star in the sky and it takes a telescope to see the moon. Stars whirl like a merry-go-round and the sun is smaller and has a corona, which we never see at home except during an eclipse. We travel in something different from any vehicle ever dreamed of, powered by something nothing else runs by. We don’t wear clothes, we wear gym suits. Our meals are dehydrated food and hybrid vegetables. And our drinking water is distilled from urine! We have centrifugal force for gravity and we even have a marriage that isn’t real.”
“The rest of us have adjusted ourselves to these conditions,” said Spartan sternly, obviously disappointed at the turn the conversation had taken.
“Do you really think so?” Morrie asked. “I’m not so sure. We’re living under conditions that are decidedly upsetting. It wouldn’t take much to push any of us over the edge into a psychosis. Nothing is real, not even our thoughts, because our world is totally different.”
Spartan’s lips pressed together. Then he asked: “Is this your excuse?”
“Gail Loring is the only real thing aboard. That’s because she’s a woman and I’m a man. The only thing traveling with us that we knew on earth is sex.” Having had his say, he took on a hangdog look, as if putting himself on the mercy of the court.
“Bah! A flimsy defense.” Spartan’s tone was not convincing. He was too much aware of sex himself.
“Then if it’s not a defense or an excuse, it’s a reason why I went mad for a few minutes,” Grover said. “Perhaps I’m not justified by earth standards, but those standards don’t exist here. You said so yourself. All I thought of was that she was a woman. I didn’t think of the consequences. I thought of myself.”
I was still angry and could never forgive Morrie, but I also felt sorry for him. Out of frustration, I’d nursed some pretty weird thoughts myself. Fortunately, I’d been able to control them.
Spartan seemed immune to understanding. “I take it that you plead guilty.”
Gail cleared her throat. “There are extenuating circumstances, Doctor,” she said. “As the injured party, I ask you not to be too hard on Mr. Grover.”
Spartan turned cold, hard eyes on her. “Is this an admission that you may be more guilty than you admit?”
Gail flushed. “All I asked was a little human understanding for Mr. Grover.”
“Humph.” Spartan bit his lip beneath his beard. “It is necessary to make Mr. Grover understand that he must control himself in the future. He is not well adjusted. Certainly our examiners are at fault. They were supposed to perceive signs of instability and weakness. If they failed in this case, how do we know they did a better job of judging the rest of you?”
“And you, Doctor?” Gail asked.
He ignored her. “We can’t send Grover to prison. There is none. But he is unstable,” he mused, almost as if he were talking to himself. “The simplest way out would be to execute him—”
“Doctor!” exclaimed Gail.
“What in the hell, sir?” Axel said. “Don’t be as crazy as Grover.”
For a moment Spartan’s eyes flared with indignation, then he waved his hand for silence. “I had not finished. I was just pointing out the simple solution. With Grover out of the way, we’d have less of a water problem, which he caused. If he did not exist, we would not have to worry about his psychotic violence, which might recur. On the other hand, the loss of one able-bodied crewman would certainly show itself in the results of our expedition. We must think of the expedition. However, some disciplinary action is needed.” He paused.
“I agree with you,” said Morrie. “And as for my being crazy, I’m not, really. I was under a strain. I was afraid. I just forgot to be civilized.”
“I’m glad you see it in that light,” said Spartan, “because I’m assigning you to a task that might be somewhat dangerous. You will make the necessary repairs to engine No. Five.”
I felt a sense of relief. I’d been afraid of what Spartan might do, especially when he talked of capital punishment. And even though making the repairs to the plasma motors would be perilous, the danger wasn’t excessive and the job was one that someone would have to do anyhow.
“You’ll begin at once,” said Dr. Spartan.
“Thank you, sir,” said Morrie.
He rose, went over to his bed roll and began to put on his spacesuit. Dr. Spartan watched him with a curious glint in his eyes. Then he turned to me. “Stand by the locks till he returns, Drake.”
I nodded.
Turning abruptly, Dr. Spartan went back into his ivory tower.