Illustrated by WEISS
Compared with a spaceship in distress, goingto hell in a handbasket is roomy and slow!
The space freighter QueenDierdre was a great, squat,pockmarked vessel of theEarth-Mars run and she nevergave anyone a bit of trouble. Thatshould have been sufficient warningto Mr. Watkins, her engineer.Watkins was fond of sayingthat there are two kinds of equipment—thekind that fails bit bybit, and the kind that fails all atonce.
Watkins was short and red-faced,magnificently mustached,and always a little out of breath.With a cigar in his hand, over aglass of beer, he talked most cynicallyabout his ship, in the immemorialfashion of engineers.But in reality, Watkins was foolishlyinfatuated with Dierdre,idealized her, humanized her, andcouldn't conceive of anything seriousever happening.
On this particular run, Dierdresoared away from Terra at theproper speed; Mr. Watkins signaledthat fuel was being consumedat the proper rate; andCaptain Somers cut the enginesat the proper moment indicatedby Mr. Rajcik, the navigator.
As soon as Point Able hadbeen reached and the enginesstopped, Somers frowned andstudied his complex controlboard. He was a thin and meticulousman, and he operated hisship with mechanical perfection.He was well liked in the frontoffices of Mikkelsen Space Lines,where Old Man Mikkelsen pointedto Captain Somers' reports asmodels of neatness and efficiency.On Mars, he stayed at the Officers'Club, eschewing the stews anddives of Marsport. On Earth, helived in a little Vermont cottageand enjoyed the quiet companionshipof two cats, a Japanesehouseboy, and a wife.
His instructions read true. Andyet he sensed somethingwrong. Somers knew every creak,rattle and groan that Dierdrewas capable of making. Duringblastoff, he had heard somethingdifferent. In space, something differenthad to be wrong.
"Mr. Rajcik," he said, turningto his navigator, "would youcheck the cargo? I believe somethingmay have shifted."
"You bet," Rajcik said cheerfully.He was an almost offensivelyhandsome young man withblack wavy hair, blasé blue eyesand a cleft chin. Despite his appearance,Rajcik was thoroughlyqualified for his position. But hewas only one of fifty thousandthoroughly qualified men wholusted for a berth on one of thefourteen spaceships in existence.Only Stephen Rajcik had had theforesight, appearance and fortitudeto court and wed Helga, OldMan Mikkelsen's eldest daughter.
Rajcik went aft to the cargohold. Dierdre was carrying transistorsthis time, and microfilmbooks, platinum filaments, salamis,and other items that couldnot as yet be produced on Mars.But the bulk of her space wastaken by the immense FahrensenComputer.
Rajcik checked the positioninglines on the monster, examinedthe stays and turnbucklesthat held it in place, and returnedto the cabin.
"All in order, Boss," he reportedto Captain Somers, with thesmile that only an employer'sson-in-law can both manage andafford.
"Mr. Watkins, do you readanything?"
Watkins was at his own instrumentpanel. "Not a thing, sir. I'llvouch for every bit of equipmentin Dierdre."
"Very well. How long beforewe reach Point Baker?"
"Three minutes, Chief," Rajciksaid.
"Good."
The spaceship hung in thevoid, all sensation of speed lostfor lack of a reference point. Beyondthe portholes was darkness,the true color of the Universe,perforated by the brilliant l