REVOLT ON IO
By NELSON BOND
Death stalked the Libra. The
Io-plunging space liner freighted a
secret weapon, and the rebel Kreuther
had vowed it should not arrive.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Spring 1941.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The ship's clock bonged drowsily three times. Bud Chandler, the juniorwatch, glared at it languidly. "Thus," he yawned, "endeth the lobsterpatrol. Three bells, my fine bucko—and the soft, warm hay for you.Or—" There was a hopeful note in his voice. "Or would you like tofinish out my trick for me? I'll stand double for you some night."
Dan Mallory said, "Comets to you, sailor!" And he rose, stretchingthe kinks out of weary muscles. His collar was open at the throat,his back ached from five solid hours in the bucket-shaped controlchair. His eyes were strained. That was from peering alternately atglowing panels, through a perilens plate into the murky, blue-blackspace before the void-hurtling Libra, and back to the panels again."There's a little thing called sleep which I'm going to grab some of.As soon as Norton shows up. Where the pink Cepheids—?"
"Tell you what. Finish my trick tonight, Dan, and I'll double for youtwice. That's fair enough, isn't it?"
"Fair enough," said Mallory, "but not sufficiently enticing. Like analbino on a desert planetoid. Ah, here's our hero now! Welcome, SirRelief! Dump it into the basket and let poppa go seek the arms ofMorpheus."
"Who's she?" growled Rick Norton, Third Mate. His eyes were puffy; hesquinted and glared at the bright lights of the control turret. "Hell'showling acres, I'm tired! I just about got to sleep when—Oh, well. Login order?"
"Directly." Mallory shot a curious glance at Norton. "Just got tosleep? How come? What were you doing up so late?"
"It wasn't official business," answered the junior officer curtly,"so it's none of yours. Let's have your log sheet." He slumped intothe control chair, squinted through the perilens and made a fewtiny course corrections. Across the room, Bud Chandler's shouldersshrugged a reply to Dan's swift lift of the eyebrows. The Second Mate'slips formed a word. "Sore-head!" Mallory nodded. Norton was a surlyson-of-a-spacewrangler.
But that wasn't any skin off his nose. He went to the chart table.Footsteps clattered up the Jacob's ladder, the door flew open and theOld Man stomped onto the bridge. He snapped, "'Zuwere!" and gloweredover Mallory's shoulder, shrewd, space-faded eyes reading sense intothe senior lieutenant's neat, precise columns. He jabbed a horny fingerat one line of figures. "Sure o' that, Mallory? Velocity that high?"
Mallory said respectfully, "Yes, sir. All figures have been checkedand double checked. We're point oh-oh-one on course. Forced speed,point thirty-nine above normal."
"Checked and double checked," said Captain Algase, "is good enough mostof the time. But this trip is special. And vitally important. Fortythousand innocent lives depend on our reaching Io damn soon! Rememberthat, Mallory. All of you remember that."
The stern lines of his face eased a trifle. "It's been a hard shuttle,I know. A brutal, punishing trip. And we've all been under a terrificstrain. But our difficulties are nothing compared to those of thegarrison and the honest colonists of New Fresno. They're looking to usfor aid, and we're bringing them aid.
"That is, someone aboard