Anyhow, your mate can stand watching."
"Who can cook?" Muller asked. His eyes swung down the table towardJenny.
I wondered how she'd get out of that. Apparently she'd never toldMuller about the scars she still had from spilled grease, and howshe'd never forgiven her mother or been able to go near a kitchensince. But I should have guessed. She could remember my stories, too.Her eyes swung up toward mine pleadingly.
Eve Nolan stood up suddenly. "I'm not only a good cook, but I enjoyit," she stated flatly, and there was disgust in the look she threw atJenny. She swung toward me. "How about it, Paul, can you wrestle thebig pots around for me?"
"I used to be a short order cook when I was finishing school," I toldher. But she'd ruined the line. The grateful look and laugh from Jennyweren't needed now. And curiously, I felt grateful to Eve for it. Igot up and went after Napier.
I found him in Bullard's little cubbyhole of a cabin. He must havechased Grundy off, and now he was just drawing a hypo out of thecook's arm. "It'll take the pain away," he was saying softly. "AndI'll see that he doesn't hit you again. You'll be all right, now. Andin the morning, I'll come and listen to you. Just go to sleep. Maybeshe'll come back and tell you more."
He must have heard me, since he signalled me out with his hand, andbacked out quietly himself, still talking. He shut the door, andclicked the lock.
Bullard heard it, though. He jerked to a sitting position, andscreamed. "_No!_ No! He'll kill me! I'm a good man...."
He hunched up on the bed, forcing the sheet into his mouth. When helooked up a second later, his face was frozen in fear, but it was adesperate, calm kind of fear. He turned to face us, and his voiceraised to a full shout, with every word as clear as he could make it.
"All right. Now I'll never tell you the secret. Now you can all diewithout air. I promise I'll never tell you what I know!"
He fell back, beating at the sheet with his hand and sobbinghysterically. Napier watched him. "Poor devil," the doctor said atlast. "Well, in another minute the shot will take effect. Maybe he'slucky. He won't be worrying for awhile. And maybe he'll be rationaltomorrow."
"All the same, I'm going to stand guard until Muller gets someone elsehere," I decided. I kept remembering Lomax.
Napier nodded, and half an hour later Bill Sanderson came to take overthe watch. Bullard was sleeping soundly.
The next day, though, he woke up to start moaning and writhing again.But he was keeping his word. He refused to answer any questions.Napier looked worried as he reported he'd given the cook another shotof sedative. There was nothing else he could do.
Cooking was a relief, in a way. By the time Eve and I had scrubbed allthe pots into what she considered proper order, located some of thefood lockers, and prepared and served a couple of meals, we'd evolveda smooth system that settled into a routine with just enough work tohelp keep our minds off the dwindling air in the tanks. In anythinglike a kitchen, she lost most of her mannish pose and turned into alive, efficient woman. And she could cook.
"First thing I learned," she told me. "I grew up in a kitchen. I guessI'd never have turned to photography if my kid brother hadn't beenusing our sink for his darkroom."
Wilcox brought her a bottle of his wine to celebrate her first dinner.He seemed to want to stick around, but she chased him off after thefirst drink. We saved half the bottle to make a sauce the next day.
It never got made. Muller called a council of war, and his face waspinched and old. He was leaning on Jenny as Eve and I came into themess hall; oddly, she seemed to be trying to buck him up. He got downto the facts as soon as all of us were together.
"Our oxygen tanks are empty," he announced. "They shouldn't be--butthey are. Someone must have sabotaged them before the plants werepoisoned--and done it so the dials don't show it. I just found it outwhen the automatic switch to a new tank failed to work. We now havethe air in the ship, and no more. Dr. Napier and I have figured thatthis will keep us all alive with the help of the plants for no morethan fifteen days. I am open to any suggestions!"
* * * * *
There was silence after that, while it soaked in. Then it was brokenby a thin scream from Phil Riggs. He slumped into a seat and buriedhis head in his hands. Pietro put a hand on the man's thin shoulders,"Captain Muller--"
"Kill 'em!" It was Grundy's voice, bellowing sharply. "Let'em breathespace! They got us into it! We can make out with the plants left! It'sour ship!"
Muller had walked forward. Now his fist lashed out, and Grundycrumpled. He lay still for a second, then got to his feet unsteadily.Jenny screamed, but Muller moved steadily back to his former placewithout looking at the mate. Grundy hesitated, fumbled in his pocketfor something, and swallowed it.
"Captain, sir!" His voice was lower this time.
"Yes, Mr. Grundy?"
"How many of us can live off the plants?"
"Ten--perhaps eleven."
"Then--then give us a lottery!"
Pietro managed to break in over the yells of the rest of the crew. "Iwas about to suggest calling for volunteers, Captain Muller. I stillhave enough faith in humanity to believe...."
"You're a fool, Dr. Pietro," Muller said flatly. "Do you think Grundywould volunteer? Or Bullard? But thanks for clearing the air, andadmitting your group has nothing more to offer. A lottery seems to bethe only fair system."
He sat down heavily. "We have tradition on this; in an emergency suchas this, death lotteries have been held, and have been consideredlegal afterwards. Are there any protests?"
I could feel my tongue thicken in my mouth. I could see the othersstare about, hoping someone would object, wondering if this could behappening. But nobody answered, and Muller nodded reluctantly. "Aworking force must be left. Some men are indispensable. We must havean engineer, a navigator, and a doctor. One man skilled withengine-room practice and one with deck work must remain."
"And the cook goes," Grundy yelled. His eyes were intent and slittedagain.
Some of both groups nodded, but Muller brought his fist down on thetable. "This will be a legal lottery, Mr. Grundy. Dr. Napier will drawfor him."
"And for myself," Napier said. "It's obvious that ten men aren't goingon to Saturn--you'll have to turn back, or head for Jupiter. Jupiter,in fact, is the only sensible answer. And a ship can get along withouta doctor that long when it has to. I demand my right to the draw."
Muller only shrugged and laid down the rules. They were simple enough.He would cut drinking straws to various lengths, and each would drawone. The two deck hands would compare theirs, and the longer would beautomatically safe. The same for the pair from the engine-room. Wilcoxwas safe. "Mr. Peters and I will also have one of us eliminated," headded quietly. "In an emergency, our abilities are sufficientlyalike."
The remaining group would have their straws measured, and the sevenshortest ones would be chosen to remove themselves into a vacantsection between hulls without air within three hours, or be forciblyplaced there. The remaining ten would head for Jupiter if no miracleremoved the danger in those three hours.
Peters got the straws, and Muller cut them and shuffled them. Therewas a sick silence that let us hear the sounds of the scissors witheach snip. Muller arranged them so the visible ends were even. "Ladiesfirst," he said. There was no expression on his face or in his voice.
Jenny didn't giggle, but neither did she balk. She picked a straw, andthen shrieked faintly. It was obviously a long one. Eve reached forhers--
And Wilcox yelled suddenly. "Captain Muller, protest! Protest! You'reusing all long straws for the women!" He had jumped forward, and nowstruck down Muller's hand, proving his point.
"You're quite right, Mr. Wilcox," Muller said woodenly. He dropped hishand toward his lap and came up with a group of the straws that hadbeen cut, placed there somehow without our seeing it. He'd done asmooth job of it, but not smooth enough. "I felt some of you wouldnotice it, but I also felt that gentlemen would prefer to see ladiesgiven the usual courtesies."
&
nbsp; He reshuffled the assorted straws, and then paused. "Mr. Tremaine,there was a luxury liner named the _Lauri Ellu_ with an assistantengineer by your name; and I believe you've shown a surprisingfamiliarity with certain customs of space. A few days ago, Jennymentioned something that jogged my memory. Can you still perform theduties of an engineer?"
Wilcox had started to protest at the delay. Now shock ran through him.He stared unbelievingly from Muller to me and back, while his faceblanched. I could guess what it must have felt like to see certainsafety cut to a 50 per cent chance, and I didn't like the way
Let 'Em Breathe Space! Page 8
