The rookie astrogator's fingers itched
for the controls of a ship. But he never
asked for the privilege of riding an
atomic bomb into the heart of hell!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Summer 1950.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Messages crackled through the black gulf of space—the InterplanetaryDistress Call. Blaze Norman, navigation officer of the ISP cruiserScorpio, came out of his space-fog and stared at the helioflash boardwhich was suddenly ablaze with light. Harald, the operator, grunted andspun dials as the frantic messages clicked off.
"What's up, Harald?" Norman asked.
Harald waved him away impatiently and crouched over his helio receiverboard. He was a grizzled old spacehound and hated working with rookieofficers. Good kids all right—the examinations saw to that—but younever knew how they were going to react, how much you could depend onthem in an emergency. And this was an emergency—
Out in the bleak void between the orbits of Jupiter and Saturn, thespaceliner Tellus was breaking up. Half of her starboard batteries hadfused and exploded, that was just the beginning. Before needle-valvescould be shut off, streams of free neutrons ran up the fuel lines intothe secondary bank of preparation tanks. Radiation counters buzzedangrily as primary degeneration spread through the masses of fuel inthe leaden containers. The lead walls buckled and gave way. Tons ofmolten magma deluged all of the after compartments of the titanicluxury liner. Inferno.
Tellus jerked like a nervous racehorse as the rest of her stern rockettubes froze and exploded. The after third of the ship was blasted outof existence. Heaven knew what would happen when the rest of thatdegenerating metal reached the stage of instantaneous disintegration.
"It's the spaceliner Tellus," Harald snapped. "She's in trouble outsideJupiter. Position 9-84-7. Two degrees N. Ecliptic. Range 11/4.7. Get onyour charts and find out what's out there. I'll buzz the old man."
Captain Fries' face appeared on the televisor screen. "Never mind thedetails," he snapped. "We got part of it up here. Too faint for theaudios, of course. What ships are in that sector?"
Lieutenant Blaze Norman glanced up from the chart panel. "Nothing ofany kind closer than Ganymede, sir. And only some slow ore-freightersthere. If there's anything else, my records don't show it."
Captain Fries' face looked suddenly old and tired. He sighed. "I guesswe'll have to go, but I don't know what good a ship this size will doif they have to be taken off. Anything more from the Tellus?"
"Not much, sir," Harald told him curtly. "They seemed to be breaking upfast. Half the crew are already dead. No telling about the passengers.Operator thinks they may last five or six hours, but no more. Ifdegeneration spreads through the whole ship, it won't be as long asthat."
"I know. I know. What about lifeboats?"
"Nine of their ten are gone. The other won't hold a third of thesurvivors."
"Tell them to hold on. We're coming. Hang onto your hats, and don'tforget the acceleration cushions."
Harald set his helioflash transmitter on the automatic relays andsent the message repeating endlessly across the darkness. He shot acalculating glance at Norman and wondered if he'd hold up in the messthat lay ahead. You never knew about these new men.
Scorpio had been inbound for Callisto. Alarms shrilled all throughher slim torpedo shape. Acceleration warning. The two men in hercommunications room buckled on their shock cushions and bracedthemselv