where V is the velocity of the ship and q the potential of the
electronic charge in the center of the drift, and r the radius."
Rawson watched the underofficer's face grow longer and longer, but
determinedly he continued.
"Should we head directly into the drift we will be up against the
following law--the shorter the distance in which a given amount of work
is done the greater the force that must be exerted. We will be stalled
in the center of the drift. To avoid disaster, the direction of the
drift must be at right angles at every point to the space ship. Do you
follow?"
Mingled with the lack of comprehension in Durk's eyes was intense
bitterness--bitterness over not being appointed captain of the _Star
Flight_ after the death of the previous chief officer, whom Durk
affectionately called "the old man".
Durk was starting a growl deep down in his alligator throat when the
situation was taken out of his hands by the immutable laws that Rawson
had just expounded.
The vessel jerked with a huge shudder that threw Rawson and the rest of
the crew off balance.
With a screech of metal the space ship picked up speed as it was drawn
into the potential in the center of the drift as well as being pushed
by the power of its rockets.
With greyhound leaps, Rawson tore towards the control dials and twisted
the wheels of the gyroscope. The ship groaned and reeled. It refused to
heed the control.
"Power! Reverse the power!" Rawson screeched into the intercom.
"Reverse the rockets!"
He felt the instruments tremble under his hands like reeds. Suddenly
the rockets went dead. Then as the crew reversed the power, they roared
to life again.
The _Star Flight_ jerked in a death struggle. The rockets rattled and
screamed as if sand had been thrown into the atom chargers.
Slowly the ship turned over, tilting at right angles to the drift.
A blinding flash like a bolt of lightning flamed across the power
panels. The lights suddenly died. The ship was in darkness.
Rawson tore at the emergency switches, got them under control. A
banshee wail sounded throughout the _Star Flight_. "Emergency!
Emergency!"
In the darkness in back of him, Rawson heard the alligator bark of
Underofficer Durk. "Ship out of control, eh? We're drifting, eh? See if
your book learnin' 'll get yuh out o' this!"
Rawson turned, and his voice was icy. "Mr. Durk! Consider yourself
under arrest!"
"Ha, ha, ha--"
Durk's laugh made the short hairs on Rawson's neck tingle. But Rawson
snapped back in a voice that he tried to hold steady. "You're an
excellent underofficer, Durk--when you obey commands. But you'll never
be captain!"
* * * * *
The space ship was plunging forward like a running blindman, directly
into the belt of minor planets.
"Awh--I got a right!" Durk cried bitterly. "Ain't I been second in
command for ten years? I know all the ropes--"
"You lack training in science and mathematics. That's vital these days!"
"I'll be captain yet. Wait and see! Yah can't arrest me. The crew won't
take your orders without my say-so. And yah can't report me. It's yore
word against me and the crew!"
Rawson lifted his chin courageously. He knew Durk spoke the truth. And
he knew that he'd never break Durk by force--
Fighting the man's will would only build up the volcano pressure inside
him more intensely. Rawson determined on a psychological trick. He
would allow Durk his chance at command.
"Very well, Mr. Durk. Let's see what you can do." He spoke with forced
calm. "Take command."
Rawson's crane-like legs patted on the jerking deck of the space ship,
and as he entered his cabin he was smiling grimly to himself.
He sat down in darkness, and his smile widened when the emergency
lights flashed on. Durk was a good man for things like that.
Rawson was turning over some papers on his desk when a young cyclone
burst through the open door without knocking. "Captain, sir!" young
Seymour cried, bounding forward. "I overheard--"
Rawson snapped to his feet. "Mr. Seymour, attention! Please leave and
enter like a gentleman."
The cabin boy folded up like a tornado that had lost its wind. Meekly
he turned and walked out of the cabin, closed the door. A rap sounded.
"Come in."
As Seymour entered, Rawson hastily turned the sheet of paper on his
desk face down. He greeted the young man with a smile.
"That's better. Always be a gentleman. If for no one's but your own
self-respect."
"Yes, sir." Seymour had troubled eyes. "I came to report I overheard
the crew talking. Said somethin' about taking over. I don't get it,
sir. Does it mean mutiny?"