I told him. "--it looked like a good idea," I finished, "only it
wasn't. Now the stuff's in, and I can't get it out again. It'll fill
the whole damned ship--"
But Cap Bowman is no dope. He had already sprung to the audio, was
barking orders to other parts of the _Pegasus_.
"Seal port and loft sections of the ship immediately. Lock emergency
doors! Get all men into safe sectors!"
Lorraine looked at me worriedly.
"What--what is it, Sparks?"
"Nothing much," I told her grimly, "except that I've just about killed
us all. That stuff will ooze through every crack and crevice in the
ship, swallow everything just like it swallowed the ship. That's
probably what happened to those other explorers. There must have been
one dope like me aboard each of them. With a bright idea that--I'm
sorry, Mrs. Larkin. I've sure put the final touch on your happy
honeymoon."
She was Cap Bowman's daughter; she was the bride of Johnny Larkin.
A gal doesn't get to be both of those things without having more
innard-stuffings than a sofa-cushion. My words heaved her back on her
heels, but only for a fraction of a second. Then, smiling, she turned
to Johnny.
"We're not afraid, are we, honey? But you'll have to hurry now."
Larkin pawed his hair frantically.
"I'm doing my best. I've got all the facts. But I still can't quite
understand--"
Voices rasped in over the audio. Anderson reported from the sleeping
quarters, "All men evacuated, sir. Standing by for further orders."
MacPhee snarled defiance from the engine deck, "We've plugged all
doors, sirrr! We'll hold this position to the last posseeble minute!"
"It's a form of carbohydrate," mused Larkin aloud. "Plastic.
Semi-fluid. But why? Why?"
"Think hard, sugar!" pleaded Lorraine. Larkin said mechanically, "Yes,
honey--" Then he stiffened. "Honey!" he said.
I groaned. "This is no time for lovey-dove talk, Johnny!" I cried.
"Keep scratching at those gray cells--"
And over the audio, the voice of super-cargo Freddy Harkness. "Am
abandoning holds, Captain. The invading--er--substance has already
covered the aft bins and is moving forward rapidly."
"Seal the safety door, Harkness--" began Bowman.
Then Larkin was at his side, suddenly frantic, eager.
"No, Skipper! Tell him to keep them open a minute! I'll be right there.
I need three men!"
He lit out for the door. Bowman cried, "No, son--come back! You'll be
killed. Come--"
But he was talking to empty air. Johnny was pounding down the runway.
Lorraine sniffed once. Then her jaw hardened. She said, "I'm going
after him."
Bowman pushed her into a chair--but hard. He said, "You're waiting
here! With us. You'll only be in his way. Johnny's the tech man on
this ship. If anybody can save us, he's the one." But as her head
lowered, his eyes met mine. And the words were written there, "Not this
time--"
* * * * *
Still, we had to do something. We couldn't just sit there and take it
blind. We had to know what was going on. So we cut in the visiplate
to the corridor outside the storage bins. It was a dismal scene that
appeared before us.
The long corridor was deserted save for a thin sliver of something
oozing out of an adjacent chamber. As we watched, this sliver turned to
a bulky, rolling mass; became the doughy body of the mysterious matter
in which the _Pegasus_ was caught. Like a ponderous wave it surged
up the corridor, straining into every crack and crevice, engulfing
everything it met.
We saw a tiny, gray ship mouse scurry from under a doorway, hesitate as
one pink foot slipped into the sluggish excrescence.
It tugged, trying to get free. But it was like a fly snared on
flypaper. It couldn't move. In a few seconds it disappeared. Lorraine
began crying softly. I turned away, too sickened to condemn myself
again for having loosed this thing amongst us.
Then there were bright gleams in the visiplate, and Johnny, accompanied
by three or four not-at-all eager sailors, entered the corridor.
As he passed the visiplate, he looked up and grinned at us, nodded
encouragingly. Then he ducked into one of the storage bins.
He came out staggering under the load of a heavy, wooden crate. He
began ripping the top off this frantically, motioned his assistants to
get other similar boxes from the bin and open them. They did so, but
one look at their pans told us they didn't like this business nohow!
Finally he had the box open. He tore out a portion of the contents.
And--
"Has he gone nuts?" raged Bowman. "That's only that medical junk for
Mars! That zy-something extract!"
Johnny made it perfectly clear what he was trying to do. He wrenched
the cap off one bottle--and deliberately poured the contents into the
nearest pseudopod of the matter now approaching within scant feet of
him. Then another bottle; tossed into the mass this time. And another.
And another.