MacNamara squinted through the eyepiece with his double popeyes. "Don't
see a thing," he grumbled.
"Well, it's a Company Cruiser, gunned to the limit. She's going to be
near enough to shoot us down in about three hours."
"Three hours, you say?" MacNamara scratched his head. "How near we to
Earth?"
"Half a million miles."
"You could make it in the lifeboat."
Gene snorted. "That Cruiser'd shoot down the lifeboat as easy as it will
the ship--a lot easier."
"If they can catch you," said MacNamara. "Some of us must die, that the
rest may live."
"Don't start that again, Mac," said Maher impatiently. "What we want to
know is whether you can soup up that pile so we can beat that Cruiser
down to Earth?"
"Not a thing I can do," said the Chief Engineer. "We've only one set of
tubes. Full power would shoot us all over the sky. But I _can_ do
something as good."
"What?"
The old Engineer considered them through his double eyes. "The rest of
you'll take the lifeboat and make for Earth. I'll remain here on the
ship and shield your flight. I'm sure I can hide the little boat for
awhile, and then, even with one jet, I think I can delay the cruiser
until you get away. Someone's got to make a sacrifice. I'm old, and I
didn't want any of this to begin with."
Maher gasped. "Mac, you old fool. D'ya mind if I apologize for what I
just said? But you're right, that's a possible answer. Only I'll be the
one to stay."
"Do you know how to adjust the pile and the jets to make a weapon out of
them?" asked MacNamara.
"No ..." began Maher.
MacNamara grinned, "Nor am I going to tell you! So, you see, you can't
be the one to stay."
Maher gripped the old man's hand and pumped it. "You win," he said. "You
old ... crackpot!" There was real affection in his voice.
"Then be off with you," said the Chief Engineer. "You've not a minute to
lose. Every man jack of you into the boat, including the Captain and the
Mates. I'll not have _my_ ship cluttered up with extra hands that might
cramp my style...." And turning, the old man made his way back to the
pile room, mumbling to himself.
Eyes wet, Gene gave the orders to abandon ship, and within thirty
minutes every living soul was aboard the lifeboat.
MacNamara had finished his work with the pile and was back in the
control room, waiting for the lifeboat to cast off. As it did so, he
waved, then turned to the controls.
As the lifeboat darted away on its chemical jet engines, they could see
the old man maneuvering the big ship so as to keep it ever between them
and the Cruiser. An hour later when they were within a hundred thousand
miles of Earth, MacNamara sent up a flare denoting surrender.
Tensely they watched the distant speck of light that was the ship with
MacNamara on it. Then, around its side came the Company Cruiser,
steering in toward it to make the capture. It was scarcely a thousand
miles from the disabled ship. Gradually it drew closer, then edged in.
Now it was only a few miles away, and at this distance, both specks
seemed to merge.
"They got him!" Maher said.
"Yah!" Schwenky boomed, disappointment in his voice. "Me, I should have
been the one to stay. I would slap them."
Suddenly, out in space, a bright flower grew. A flower of incandescent
light that blossomed with terrifying rapidity, until it seemed to engulf
all space in the area of the two ships. The familiar sphere of
brilliance that marked an exploding atom bomb hung there in the heavens
an instant, then it was gone. In its place was only a vast cloud of
smoke, the dust and scattered atoms that were all that remained of two
gigantic space ships.
"He detonated the pile!" said Gene, "He turned himself into an atom
bomb!"
"Yah!" said Schwenky, his voice strangely muted. "Yah!" Awkwardly he
turned and patted Ann's head as she began to sob.
* * * * *
"Is it not handsome?" asked Schwenky proudly, holding the front page of
the newspaper up for all to see. "I have my picture in the paper! Is it
not nice?"
Laughing, Ann kissed the big Swede right on the lips, and hugged him,
paper and all. "It's beautiful, you big lug!" she said. "The handsomest
picture I've ever seen in any paper."
"Nah!" denied Schwenky. "It is not the handsomest. All of us have our
pictures in the paper. We are all very good looking! Not only Schwenky.
Is it not so, Gene, my friend?"
Gene grinned at him, and at the others. Maher pounded him on the back,
and over the uproar came the voice of the editor of the _Sentinel_.
"Telephone for Mr. Schwenky!"
Schwenky looked dazed, cocked his big ears at the editor. "For
Schwenky?" he asked stupidly. "Telephone? Who would call Schwenky on the
telephone?"
"How do I know?" said the editor. "It's some lady...." He thrust the
phone into the big Swede's hand.
"Lady?" said Schwenky wonderingly. "Hello ... lady ..." he spoke into
the receiver, his booming voice making it rattle.
"The other ..." began Gene, then desisted. "Never mind, she'll hear
you...."
"What? You want to marry me? Lady...." Schwenky's eyes bulged even more,
and he roared into the transmitter. "Lady! You wait! I come!" He thrust
the phone into the editor's hands and made for the door like a lumbering
bull.
"Where you going?" yelled Gene.
Schwenky halted, turned with a big grin, "I go to marry lady. She asked
me to become my wife!"
"Where is she?" asked Gene. "Where are you going to meet her?"
Schwenky looked stupidly at the now silent phone. "By golly! I forget to
ask her!" There was tragedy in his voice. "Now I never find her!"
The editor laughed. "Never mind--you'll get a hundred more proposals
before the day's over. You can take your pick!"
Schwenky's eyes opened wide. Then he grinned again. "Yah!" he roared. "I
take my pick! She will be so beautiful! Yah!"
The chatter of the teletype interrupted him, and the editor turned to
watch the tape as it came from the machine. Then he began to read:
"Washington. April 23. President Walworth has grounded all spaceships
and ordered all those enroute to proceed to the nearest port. A
Congressional committee has been picked, including top members of the
cabinet, to investigate the ships, the atomic drives, and the system of
secret slavery among crews. In a statement to the Press, President
Walworth said that space travel will not be resumed until proper shields
are developed. But he added that he had been informed by leading
physicists that the problem can be solved within a year if sufficient
funds were available. Said the President: 'I will see that the funds are
made available!'"
The editor dropped the tape and turned to Gene. "I have one more bit of
information, this one direct from the President by phone. He has asked
me to inform you that he has appointed you new head of FAST."
"FAST?" asked Gene. "What's that?"
"Federal Agency for Space Travel," grinned the editor. "And
congratulations. I hate to lose a good reporter, but maybe you'll be
back after you finish in Washington--at a substantial increase in
salary."
Gene grinned back. "Maybe I will," he said. "And I'll need the money."
He put an arm around Ann and drew her to him. "Two can't live as cheap
as one, you know."