They followed him as he strode along the companionway.
The telescreen in Colonel Halter's office darkened and there was only
the old voice of the captain, saying, "We were drifting in space. You
know what that means. But no one broke down. We were too well trained,
too well conditioned. We gathered in the control room."
Light opened up again on Colonel Halter's telescreen. He saw the
polished metal walls, the pilot chairs and takeoff hammocks, the
levers, buttons and switches of the young ship back those many years,
and the six young people standing before a young Captain McClelland,
who was speaking to them of food, water and oxygen.
It was decided that their metabolisms must be lowered and that they
must live for the most part in their bunks. All activity must be cut
to minimum. All weapons must be jettisoned, except one, the captain's
shock gun, that could not kill but only cause unconsciousness for
twenty-four hours.
* * * * *
Captain McClelland gave an order. The weapons were gathered up and
placed in an airlock which thrust them out into space. Five of the
crew lay down in their bunks. Dr. Anna Mueller, tall and slim,
full-bosomed, tawny-skinned and tawny-haired, remained standing. She
pressed the thought recorders over the heads of the other five people
who lay there motionless, clamped the tiny electrodes onto her own
temples and placed a small, black box, covered with many tiny dials,
beside the bunk of Miss Gordon, the televisor.
A moment later, a jumble of thoughts: _Now I am dead. An end. For
what, now that it's here? Love. The warm press of a body. Trees and
grass. Sunrise. To take poison. Clean air after a rain. City, people,
lights. Sunset--_
The thought words jumbled like a voice from a recorder when the speed
is turned up.
Then they faded and one thought stream came through clean and clear:
_I am Dr. Anna Mueller. Good none of the others can hear what I'm
thinking. Was afraid I'd die this way someday. But to prolong it.
Painless death in an instant. Could give it to us all. But orders.
Captain McClelland. No feeling? Can't he see what I feel for him? Why
am I thinking like this? Now. But this is what is happening to me.
He'd rather make love to this ship. Kiss Crowley before I give him the
metabolism sedation shot. Captain'll see I'm a woman._
[Illustration]
She stepped to the bulkhead and pressed a button. A medicine cabinet
opened. After filling a hypodermic syringe, she went to Crowley, bent
down and gave him a long kiss on the lips.
Instantly Colonel Halter heard thoughts.
Captain McClelland: _She must be weak. Why's she doing that? Thought
she was stronger. But the ship's the thing. The ship and I._
Crowley: _What the hell? Didn't know she went for me. Just a half hour
with her before the needle. What's to lose?_ He pulled her down to
him.
Lieutenant Brady: _He'd do that, the damned animal. But I'm not enough
of an animal. I'm a good spaceman. All spontaneity's been trained out
of me. Feel like killing him. And taking her. Anyplace. But I'm so
controlled. Got to do something. This last time...._ He sat up in his
bunk.
Caroline Gordon: _I knew he was like that. Married when we got back.
Mrs. Crowley. And if we'd gotten back. Out every other night with
another woman. I could kill him._ She turned her face away.
Daniel Carlyle: _Look at them. And I can't live. Only one person needs
me, back on Earth, and she's the only. And that's enough. But maybe I
can kill myself...._ He did not move.
* * * * *
The thoughts stopped and Colonel Halter leaned forward in his chair as
he saw Captain McClelland standing beside his bunk, the gun in his
hand. Dr. Mueller saw, too--the young Dr. Mueller, back those
seventy-five years. She struggled to pull away from Crowley.
Lieutenant Brady stood, started toward the captain, stopped. Crowley
pushed Dr. Mueller away from him, leaped to his feet and lunged toward
the captain. A stream of light appeared between the gun muzzle and
Crowley. He stumbled, caught himself, stood up very straight, then
sank down, as though he had been deflated.
The captain motioned Dr. Mueller to her bunk. She hesitated, pain in
her face, turned, went to her bunk and lay down. Another stream of
light appeared between her and the gun. She lay very still. The needle
slipped from her fingers.
The captain turned the gun on Lieutenant Brady, who was coming at him,
arms raised. The light beam again. The lieutenant sank back. Caroline
Gordon was watching the captain as the light stream appeared. She
relaxed, her eyes closed. Daniel Carlyle did not move as the light
touched him.
Captain McClelland holstered the gun. He picked up the hypodermic
needle and sterilized it at the medicine cabinet. Then he injected
Crowley's arm, filled the hypo four more times, injected the others.
He finally thrust the needle into his own arm and lay down. His
breathing began to slow. There was only the control room of the ship
now, like some ancient mausoleum, with the six still figures and the
control board dark and the eternal ocean of night pressing against the
ports.
The picture of the ship's control room began to fade on the screen.
After a moment of darkness, the live picture of the six old figures,
sitting in their half circle, spread again over the lighted square.
Colonel Halter saw his own image, looking into the old masks.