Captain Evans languidly opened the betting, but after the first round he
dropped out, and only Jasperson and the professor remained. Each raised
the other persistently, and while Jasperson grew more and more excited,
the professor smiled as usual, his eyes glinting with amusement.
"And another five," said Larrabee.
For the first time, Jasperson hesitated. "You sure you mean it,
professor? I kind of hate to clean you out, especially because I doubt
if you can afford it."
"Suppose you let me be the judge of what is, after all, a private
matter?"
"All right, it's you that will go bankrupt, not me. And another five."
"See you, and raise you five!"
* * * * *
Jasperson sat back and pondered, his cold eyes calculating. "Now let's
review the situation, just among friends. The professor's a smart man,
and he isn't rich. He saw me draw one card, so he can make a pretty good
guess what I probably hold, if I drew the right card, but he's playing a
pat hand, and playing as if he meant it. Well, I've put a lot of credits
in that pot, but I never did believe in throwing good money after bad,
even in a friendly game. I quit."
"What? You mean you're going to drop out without even seeing me?"
"I know when I'm licked. Five credits is five credits, even to me." He
threw down his cards and reached to gather in the deck.
Slowly Professor Larrabee raked in the chips, as Jasperson went on
complacently.
"That's the only principle a practical man can work on. Know when you're
licked. Get all the facts, analyze all the data, and then act on the
logical conclusion, no matter how much you may hate to. It was clear to
me that you must have drawn a pat flush that would top my straight, so I
simply decided not to waste any more money."
"Thank you, Mr. Jasperson. I appreciate the gift."
"It was no gift. You had me beat."
"Did I? Only if you had all the facts, only if you analyzed all the
data, and only if you reached the correct conclusion. Perhaps you ought
to see what I held."
Deliberately he turned over his hand and spread the cards.
Jasperson jumped to his feet in a rage. "But that's a handful of junk!
Not even a pair! You held a bust, and I had you beat!"
"Certainly. But you didn't know it. Without all the facts, you acted on
a faulty conclusion."
Breathing noisily, his plump face flushed, Jasperson smashed his fist
into his pile of chips and scattered them to the floor.
"A pure bluff! I hate bluffing!"
"Then you miss a great deal of fun in life," said Larrabee calmly. "I
find it dull just to analyze data and then bet on a sure thing. I like a
little excitement."
Slowly the financier sank back into his chair. He gulped in a large
breath of air and tried to steady himself, a sickly smile around his
mouth.
"Excuse me, Professor. But you took me by surprise." Hands trembling, he
began to shuffle the deck.
There was a knock at the door, and a crewman entered.
"What is it, Stacey?" said Captain Evans.
"Chief Wyman is waiting to see you in your quarters, sir."
With a sigh of relief, the Captain turned in his few chips. "Time for
me to quit, anyway."
His face still red, Jasperson looked up hopefully. "Shall I come with
you? Any way I can be of use?"
"No thank you, Burl. I'll leave you to your little game."
* * * * *
In the Captain's quarters, Chief Wyman was pacing the floor.
"Sir!" he burst out. "This is it! We've hit the Thakura Ripples!"
"Impossible, Wyman! It's too soon. What's happened?"
"You told me to report as soon as we ran across anything suspicious,
sir. Well, look what our screen has been picking up."
He handed over a plastic record tape, perforated by minute notches which
outlined an unsystematic, jagged line of peaks and hollows.
"We've been getting this stuff all evening."
"Doesn't seem to mean anything. It doesn't show any sort of pattern."
"No, sir, and it may not mean anything, but it's different from what
we've been getting up till now. And then another thing. It's probably
not serious, but the number ten Pile has started to heat."
"Begun to heat? What's wrong with Pile Ten? One of your men been getting
careless?"
"I'm positive not, sir. I have complete confidence in all of them."
Captain Evans studied the record tape, a worried frown on his forehead.
"It's just possible, I suppose, that the Ripples--Is Pile Ten heating
fast?"
"No, sir. It's still below the critical level, and of course we're
putting in dampers."
"I wish we _knew_ something definite about the Thakura Ripples," the
Captain burst out, "what they are, what they do, what they look like,
and _how_ they affect our atomic Piles! If only Thakura were still a
sane man, and could finish up his calculations!"
"Maybe Thakura was crazy to start with," said Chief Wyman, "or maybe the
Ripples drove him crazy. I don't know. But I do know Pile Ten is
heating."
"Well, keep watching it. Double the checks on the other Piles, and let
me know of even the slightest rise."
As soon as the door had closed, Evans opened the desk panel and buzzed
Operations.
"Pilot Thayer? Captain Evans here. I am about to give you an order. As
soon as you have executed it, come at once to my cabin, and bring
Navigator Smith with you. Here it comes. Reduce speed immediately,
repeat immediately, to one-half, repeat one-half. That's all."
* * * * *
Nobody felt the alteration in the progress of the _Star Lord_. Within
the metal casing of the ship nothing was changed. The sunny scenes in
the walls were just as bright, and the synthetic light of the slowly
moving stars at night was just as soothing. For the passengers, the
black menace outside the ship did not exist. Because change of speed
cannot be felt in hyperspace, they had no way of realizing that the
_Star Lord_ had slackened her pace and was feeling her way cautiously as
a blind man to avoid the ominous barriers of the Thakura Ripples.
On their way to their cabins that night, there were a few people who
noticed that the bulletin which detailed the day's run had not been
posted on the board, but they wondered only for a moment why it had been
omitted, and then forgot the matter.
Going in to breakfast next morning, Burl Jasperson stopped to read the
bulletin as usual, to find how many light years distance had been put
behind him in this interminable journey, and he clenched his fist at
finding a blank board before him.
Abruptly turning his back on the dining room, he proceeded straight to
the Captain's quarters, where Stacey stopped him in the anteroom.
"Where's Captain Evans?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Jasperson. The Captain left orders he was not to be
disturbed."
"He'll see _me_. Let him know I'm here."
"I'm sorry, sir. My orders were, nobody was to be admitted. He was very
specific."
Stacey did not budge, but the inner door swung open and the Captain's
tired face peered out.
"You have a very penetrating voice, Burl. I suppose you might as well
come in. It's all right, Stacey. Stand by."
He moved to let Jasperson enter, and closed the door.
About the desk sat Chief Engineer Wyman, Chief Pilot Thayer, and Chief
Navigator Smith, all studying a chart laid out before them, and making
computations. They looked up at the interruption.
"What's going on here?" said Jasperson. "If you're having a conference
of some kind, I should be in on it."
"Just routine work, Burl. What is it you want?"
"Somebody is getting careless. The bulletin of yesterday's run has not
been posted. It's little things like that that make all the difference
in the reputation of a shipping line. Somebody ought to be reprimanded.
What was the day's run, by the way? Well, speak up, Josiah! I'm
waiting."
Evans reached for a sheet of paper from the desk and silently handed it
across. Jasperson looked at the figures, frowned, and spoke angrily.
"Have your computers broken down, Captain Evans? Or is this a joke? Why,
that's only about two-thirds our usual distance. At this rate it will
take us from now to eternity to arrive."
"You'd better sit down, Burl." The Captain looked steadily at him.
"Those figures explain why I ordered that the bulletin was not to be
posted. Not one passenger out of a hundred would have noticed much
change in the figures, but I do not want to alarm even that one in a
hundred. I have ordered the ship to proceed at half-speed."
"What? Have you lost your mind?"
"We are approaching the Thakura Ripples. It just isn't safe to go any
faster."
Expelling a long breath, Jasperson spoke more calmly.
"That means we'll be late in reaching Almazin III?"
"Three or four days, perhaps, not more. Eventually we'll get through
this danger zone, and then we can resume speed."
"But we _can't_ be late, Captain Evans! Surely you haven't forgotten
that we're out after the Blue Ribbon? The Light Line's ships have made
it in forty-three days, and we've got to do it in forty-two or less.
This trip is a matter of prime importance to the Star Line, and a delay
of even three days would keep us from breaking the record. I thought you
understood all that?"
* * * * *
Sighing, the Captain shook his head. "I know all that. But we are in
dangerous regions, and I can't risk my ship just for a piece of silk!
Last night Pile Ten started heating. It's still hot, and we may have to
expel it. I hadn't expected to reach the Ripples so soon, and had even
hoped we could avoid them entirely, but evidently the limits of the band
haven't been charted very accurately. The only safe thing is to go
slow."
"But the Ripples are imaginary! Why do you think we've hit them?"
"There's the number Ten Pile."
"But why should only that one out of the twenty-four be affected? And
even if it is heating, that's no good reason for slackening speed."
Captain Evans glared back at the plump little man, then his eyes
wavered, and his fingers fiddled uncertainly with the papers on his
desk. His chief officers were watching him intently. At last he
straightened his shoulders and spoke sternly.
"Mr. Jasperson. Surely it will not be necessary to remind you that I am
the Captain of this ship. I am in sole command. Is that correct?"
"Yes, but--"
"Would you seriously advise me to go contrary to my own knowledge, my
own instinct? To run this ship into an area of danger, to risk the lives
of the passengers, all for a piece of ribbon? Would you want to take the
responsibility of giving me such an order, even if I should agree?"
As Jasperson looked around at the watchful faces of the Engineer, the
Pilot, and the Navigator, some of the belligerence left his voice.
"Certainly not, Josiah! And anyway, it's not your knowledge I'm
quarreling with. If you run the ship according to the facts, you'll do
all right. It's when you let your judgment be influenced by your
imagination that I object. But by all means, do as you think best. When
the Star Line loses confidence in its Captains, they replace them. I'll
look in again, if I may, later in the day."
When the door had closed behind him, Pilot Thayer shook his head
wonderingly. "You'd think he ruled the universe!"
"He's a man of very limited imagination," said the Captain. "But never
forget, he wields a great deal of power. Now, are your orders clear?
Smith, you'll continue your charting."
"I'm doing my best, Captain, but what am I charting? Sometimes I wonder
if maybe your friend Jasperson isn't right. If the Ripples are
imaginary, maybe I'm getting gray hairs trying to make a map of
something that isn't there!"
"Chart it anyway! We can't take chances. Wyman, I'm not a bit satisfied
with the way Pile Ten is behaving. It should have cooled to normal
before now. Watch it. If we have to dump it, we want to act before it
gets too hot. Anything else?"
"One other thing, sir," said Engineer Wyman, pointing to the diagram of
the ship which hung on the wall. "Pile Ten is located just below
Lifeboat C, and the radiation index of Boat C is getting a little high."
"That's bad. Well, keep shoving in the dampers, and keep me posted."
After they had gone, he sat for a while at his desk, studying the data
on the papers before him. He paced the room for a few minutes, then
paused to pick up the little red volume of _Ley's Space Ships_. He had
no need to open it. It fell open of itself at the well-read page, and
his eyes rested for one rich moment on the words: _Captain: Josiah
Evans_.
What name, he wondered, feeling almost physically sick with
uncertainty, what name would be printed in the next edition?
* * * * *
The orchestra played melodiously at lunch time. The chef had produced
delicacies even more delectable than usual, and at each table the
waiters poured sparkling white wine into long-stemmed glasses, while
murmuring softly, "Compliments of the Captain!"
"Is this a special occasion?" asked Tanya.
"Not that I know of, miss."
"Every meal feels like a special occasion," said Alan, "because I get to
talk to you."
"Sh-h! Here come the Halls."
Tom and Dorothy flitted in to the table, hand in hand, still absorbed in
the wonder of being together, scarcely aware of the world about them,
then left, without finishing their dessert. Alan and Tanya looked after
them with affectionate amusement, but Professor Larrabee seemed
withdrawn and a little sad, as though they evoked memories of a time now
lost to him forever.
"They make me feel so _old_!" said Tanya.
"And lonely?"
"Perhaps, a little. They seem so sure, somehow, that all the rest of
their lives will be just as happy as this, always."
"And why not?" said Professor Larrabee.
The orchestra swayed into a final soft chord, and immediately a voice
spoke from a loudspeaker in the ceiling.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Conversation stopped, the room became quiet.
"Ladies and gentlemen. The customary lifeboat drill will be held this
afternoon at 1600 hours. The attendance of all passengers is requested."
The voice stopped, the orchestra resumed its playing, and the passengers
sipped their coffee.
"I wonder why he said 'customary'?" said Tanya. "We've been out about
three weeks, and this will be the first drill we've had. Do you suppose
something is wrong?"
"I'm afraid your sense of the dramatic gets the better of you," said
Alan. "What could be wrong with the _Star Lord_?"
"Maybe her name," murmured Professor Larrabee, and his eyes looked
haunted.
* * * * *
Solitary at his table, Burl Jasperson sipped at a glass of ice water as
he pondered. For the first time in his life he was not quite sure what
course to follow. He wanted that Blue Ribbon for the Star Line, and
yet--he did not know what to do. While he listened to the announcement
of the lifeboat drill, his lip twisted in contempt. Just like Josiah
Evans, he thought, to be over-cautious and run the risk of starting a
panic.
Still thinking, he left the dining room and went to the main lounge to
study the illuminated map of the ship. The three-dimensional panorama
showed the slim and elegant body of the _Star Lord_, tapered like a
silver spindle. Six small ships, three on each side of the long axis,
each capable of carrying 250 people, were fastened into her hulk.
Seemingly a part of the ship itself, their outer walls forming a part of
the ship's wall, they were designed to be detached at the touch of a
button, and launched into space as free craft.
When the warning bells rang, he joined the crowd of passengers who were
assigned to Boat F, peered at the boat through the transparent panel,
and listened attentively to the instructions. It was Steward Davis, he
noted approvingly, who was in charge.
"Passengers will file in through the usual port and walk to the farthest
unoccupied seat, and buckle themselves into place. They have nothing
further to do. Crewmen will take care of the mechanics of detaching and
launching the boat. You will note that there are no separate cabins,
only rows of seats as in the primitive airplanes, but you will find this
no real discomfort, since the boat would undoubtedly be picked up after
a very short interval by some alerted space liner."
Jasperson raised his voice above the crowd's hum.
"What about provisioning? Are the boats stocked on Y-port?"
"No, Mr. Jasperson, except for food concentrates, and one air tank which
is placed there for the greater comfort of the crewmen who must go in to
clean or to make minor adjustments. The boats are not fully provisioned
until the need arises. After all, we don't want to invite trouble, do
we?"
People laughed appreciatively.
"No," he went on, "if there should be an emergency, we have specially
trained crewmen whose job it is to stock reserves of air and water. They
would go to work as automatically and efficiently as machines. Any other
questions?"
Jasperson lingered after the indifferent crowd, to inspect the boat more
closely, then slouched away.
* * * * *
All that afternoon he prowled the ship, trying to make up his mind. He
stopped now and then to question a business acquaintance, ask a
journalist his opinion, and he quizzed Larrabee again, more sharply than
before, about the hypothetical Ripples. He kept moving, and as he walked
he calculated, bringing to bear all the power of a mind which he
believed to be logical, and which his financial success had proved to
be keen and intelligent. All his life he had trusted his judgment, and
it had rarely failed him--barring accidents like that unfair poker game.
At last, as the hours went on, his decision crystallized. He had made up
his mind.
At dinner he drank champagne in addition to his usual ice water, and
only half heard the scraps of conversation in the dining room. There was
to be a special masquerade dance, he gathered. People around him were
excitedly planning the improvisation of costumes. He would not get
himself up in any silly costume, he decided, but if his plans went well,
he might look in later in the evening, on the chance to being allowed to
glide over the waxed floor with the lovely Tanya.
After finishing his last drop of coffee he went directly to the cabin of
Captain Evans, who had just begun to eat his simple dinner.
The Chairman of the board of directors pulled up a chair and sat down,
without waiting to be asked.
"Look here, Josiah, I want to talk to you. I've been thinking. I'm
afraid I was too brusque this morning. That's a bad habit of mine, and I
want to apologize. But after all, we should not be quarreling, for your
interests and mine are the same, as you surely realize."
Captain Evans pushed away his tray, lit a cigar, and puffed stolidly. "I
realize that I must consider the safety of my passengers, if that's what
you mean."
"That's included, of course." Jasperson made his voice warm and
persuasive, the voice that had swayed boards of directors, the voice
that reassured hesitant bankers.
"Passenger safety is always paramount, of course, and I respect your
attitude there. But in this particular case, isn't it possible that you
are being too cautious?"
"But Burl! Can the Captain of a ship _ever_ be too cautious? Think of
his responsibility!"
"His responsibility is very great, and I would never advise you, nor
permit you, to shirk yours. But sometimes caution may cease to be a
virtue. Think about this caution of yours for a minute. Surely you
believe that I would never urge you to do anything against the interests
of the ship, or against your own conscience? Now you have an excellent
mind--logical, objective, clear. That was one reason we chose you for
this place. Try to consider, for a moment, the bare possibility that
your decision to reduce speed may not have been justified."
* * * * *