by LARRY OFFENBECKER
This mercy rocket was Rawson's first command;
and his last, it seemed--for mutineers had taken
over, then lost the ship in a quicksand pool.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Fall 1945.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Captain Todd Rawson snapped angry eyes at the directional needle that
indicated that his space ship the _Star Flight_ was holding steady to
her course like a bullet. He had ordered differently.
He was savagely kicking back his chair when the televisor leaped into
life.
"Calling the _Star Flight_," the control officer from Saturn intoned,
"Calling the _Star Flight_."
Rawson clicked a switch, continued to glare at the directional needle.
"Rawson--_Star Flight_." His voice was richly vibrant and charged with
emotion. "Running into spatial storm. Must detour to tangent to course.
Will be late."
"For God's sake!" The voice from Saturn was urgent. "The plague is
wiping out the entire colony! Hurry!"
"We'll get the serum there! Out!"
Rawson glanced once more at the unwavering needle of the direction
indicator, and he switched off the televisor with such abrupt force
that he broke off the dial. He tore from his desk and rumbled like a
Jupiter avalanche across the vibrating deck of the _Star Flight_ into
the rocket room. "Mr. Durk, I ordered the rockets reversed."
The crew men looked up, winking at each other. This was it!
Durk raised a short, blunt body like a Venusian alligator and lumbered
to attention. His voice came in a hoarse growl.
"The Old Man--you young punks think you know everything! The old man
would 'a' headed right into the storm!"
Captain Rawson flushed slightly and felt the tips of his ears turn hot
as he stared at the man who was twenty years his senior--the man who
had twenty-five years of experience in space flight.
"I'm the captain here," Rawson said in a voice as steady as the beat of
the motors. "My commands are to be obeyed without question."
"Sure, now, you're the captain." Durk winked slyly at one of the
crew. "You got a gold star and the fixings. But we ain't goin' to get
ourselves killed on account o' something you learned in a book."
Surprisingly Rawson laughed, a deep-throated laugh, although he knew
that he had to break this man or be broken himself. His words lashed
out like a cat-o-nine tails at the senior officer.
"Mr. Durk, don't let your bitterness defeat your common sense. The
old man knew all the tricks. You know them. But space navigation has
advanced to a science. It requires more than rule of thumb knowledge."
"I ain't going to reverse the rockets!"
Rawson looked at the stolid faces of the space hardened crew. Veterans
all. The underofficer's men.
* * * * *
When he spoke, Rawson's words came in smooth, clipped phrases. "Mr.
Durk, I'll explain briefly why it would be fatal to head straight into
the storm. The instruments indicate that the storm drift ahead of the
ship is heavily charged with electrons. Our space ship is a charged
body. Breaking the relation of the space ship and the drift down
mathematically we have the equation