by H. B. Fyfe
punishment.
"It would take us too long to find others like you who had merely neverfaced the same circumstances that sent you four to Luna. We have madeattempts to attack this vessel. Manned by normal men, our ships couldaccomplish nothing."
"Why not?" asked Phillips.
"_The crews found they could not kill!_"
"What?"
"It amounts to that. One pilot blacked out at the start of an offensiveapproach. He lost contact before recovering--you realize how quicklythat happens at interplanetary speeds. On several other ships, therewere passive mutinies. One was destroyed; how, we do not know."
"Why don't you get some _men_ in your Department of Security?" sneeredBrecken.
Varret sighed. "It was far from simple cowardice. The crews had finerecords. We have been civilized too long, so long that the idea ofdeliberate killing unnerved them. As to the one ship that did make somemotion to attack, it may have been destroyed by the cruiser's defenses,or even by sabotage. Somebody may quite possibly have found the missiontoo repulsive to face with complete sanity."
He was interrupted by a uniformed man, who slid the door open andgestured significantly. Varret paused. He nodded, and the newcomerretired.
"I have only a few minutes," said the old man, facing them again. "To bebrief, this patrol vessel is armed with the best we have in guidedatomic missiles and sensitive detection devices. Technical manuals aresupplied for everything we could think of, though I doubt you will needthem. We have brought you to within a few hundred miles of _them_.
"In a few minutes, my men and I will transfer to an escort ship. We willslip in behind Deimos, not too far away, and pick you up afterward toland you on Mars. Any questions?"
"Yes," said Phillips.
"What?"
"Why should we do anything at all?"
Varret's lips tightened. A guard shrugged contemptuously. "I was told toexpect that attitude," the old man admitted. "I suppose it is part ofthe character we now think is needed for such an expedition."
"You could hardly expect co-operation," Phillips pointed out. "Lawsagainst any kind of homicide are all well enough, but I for one don'tsee why I should draw the same sentence as a murderer. I had to protectmyself or die--probably through having that crazy fool blow up my rocketroom."
"You'll make a cold landing on Sol before you'll get any help from me!"Brecken added defiantly.
The girl said nothing, but Truesdale muttered darkly.
"Please!" said Varret. "I have no time to argue about our social andlegal codes. The Council foresaw that the threat of being yourselvessubject to this plague might not be enough. If you succeed in destroyingor even immobilizing the cruiser, I can offer you anything you wantshort of unsupervised liberty. You must still be watched as potentialdangers to society, but you may otherwise be as wealthy or independentas you wish."
He motioned to the guards, who had begun to fidget impatiently;wordlessly they left the compartment.
"You can settle your relations among yourselves," said Varret. "We choseBailey partly because she has piloted rockets privately, and Phillipsbecause he was a space engineer. Perhaps Brecken could handle thetorpedoes--I do not know." He rubbed his chin uneasily. "Frankly, I findintimate discussion of the affair repulsive. I hope you will decide todo what is necessary for the welfare of Earth."
He turned abruptly and left the control room. They heard distant voicesexhorting him to hurry.
