The Programmed Man

by Jean Sutton

  "You wished to see me?" York asked.

  Hull turned slowly and glanced around to assure their privacy. When he turned back, his face held an expression which York couldn't quite decipher. The hard lines of his jaw were as set as ever, but something akin to relief shone in the mud-blue eyes now firmly fixed on York's face.

  "Myron Terle was captured on Grydo," Hull announced.

  "Terle?" York felt a distinct shock.

  "Caught him with a stun gun."

  "Terle captured," he murmured. In the silence that followed his own voice, he heard the low whisper of an air fan, the sounds of life transmitted through the bulkheads. So, the Programmed Man had run out of time. He raised his head, meeting the captain's eyes directly. "Did Karsh say so?"

  "The message came from Grydo," Hull explained. "The admiral has ordered them to keep us apprised of all developments."

  "Then it's undoubtedly true."

  "This should prove quite a shock to the Zuman government, York."

  "It's quite a shock, all right." York's face was a mask. "Did the message give any details?"

  "None beyond what I mentioned." Hull shook his head. "But I don't mind saying, this takes a burden from my mind. I always felt that Terle represented the greatest danger, and apparently the admiral did, also."

  "I wouldn't discount the danger," York observed.

  "From Grydo?"

  He nodded. "Terle had some plan for contacting Li-Hu's men. At least Karsh believed so. We can't overlook that."

  "I imagine some of his alarm has subsided, York."

  "Because of Terle's capture?" He shook his head. "Don't you believe it. Would Dr. G stake everything on one man? That's not good practice, Captain. He most certainly has an alternative plan."

  "I've considered that, but I also know that Grydo is sealed off completely and absolutely," returned Hull. "Whatever intelligence apparatus he might have has been isolated, and I have scant doubt but that it soon will fall into the admiral's hands."

  "The hopeless situation is often best," York answered.

  Hull cocked his head. "I don't follow that."

  "Just a saying," he explained.

  "Well, it's hopeless, all right, at least as far as Myron Terle is concerned, and I'm not too greatly worried over the rest of it. That's in the admiral's hands."

  "Nevertheless I'd keep in close contact with Grydo," York warned.

  "I intend to. The admiral was explicit on that point."

  York eyed him candidly. "I believe it's time we unmasked the saboteurs."

  "You believe you can?"

  "It's almost a certainty."

  Hull hesitated briefly, cocking his head. "How about the traitors on the Draco?" His voice was hard and flat.

  "We might flush them out," York said.

  "You have a plan?"

  York nodded and commenced speaking. He told Hull exactly what he wanted. He didn't disclose the roles he had assigned to Dr. Benbow or Osborn or touch on what he believed might happen for fear the captain would rebel; Hull wouldn't fancy gambling with the Draco. All in all, he made it sound quite innocuous.

  York couldn't hope that it would be.

  12

  THE NINE Rigel survivors were waiting in the crew's mess hall when York arrived. Tregaski had placed them at one of the long tables, facing the front of the compartment, and had taken his own place off to one side, next to Doctor Benbow. Neither was armed.

  York proceeded to the front of the room and sat down, wondering what had detained Hull; it was not like him to be late. He ran his eyes over the assemblage. Cleaned up and rested, the survivors appeared in considerably better shape than they had a few days before. Albert Barngate, the quartermaster chief, had a round, open face with brown, speculative eyes and a way of holding his head that suggested alertness. He caught York's glance and nodded pleasantly.

  Jarrett Shumway sat next to him with his body hunched forward and his huge hands knotted on the table in front of him. His face was set in a tight scowl, and York wondered why. Searching his mind, he placed Shumway as maintenance second. He let his gaze rest briefly on Lee Chun, the maintenance first, and the young Alphan who sat next to him, who he knew must be Hing Poy, another maintenance worker. Both faces were lean, dark, absolutely devoid of expression.

  A stir ran through the group as Captain Hull entered. Some of the men started scrambling to their feet, but he waved them down, proceeding to the head of the room.

  Glancing around, Hull cleared his throat and said, "The purpose of this gathering is to ascertain what happened to cause the disaster aboard the Rigel. I might add that this hearing is unofficial and purely preliminary." His eyes swung to the agent. "Mr. York, who is representing the Admiral or the Galactic Seas, will conduct the questioning."

  York rose and took the captain's place at the podium, conscious of several startled looks. But not on the faces of Lee Chun or Hing Poy. And not on Jarrett Shumway's face. His scowl deepened, giving him a menacing look. Albert Barngate watched him peculiarly, his eyes guarded.

  "Before we begin, I would like to fill in on some background information, verify the facts as I know them," York said. "I understand the Rigel was en route from Pelicide to the Gorman system when the emergency occurred. Is that correct?" He looked at Barngate.

  "Yes, sir," the chief answered.

  "Not 'sir,' I'm a civilian," York said. "I take it that the emergency occurred when the Rigel was in hypertime."

  "That is correct," Barngate answered.

  "Who brought the Rigel out of hypertime?" he asked.

  "I did."

  "You?" York raised his eyes.

  "In the Navy a quartermaster serves as an assistant to the navigator," explained Barngate. "I've passed many years on the bridge and am as familiar with the controls as I am with navigation. Most quartermaster chiefs are," he added.

  "I wasn't aware of that." York smiled pleasantly. "Was the situation such that you had to take the Rigel out of hypertime? I'm wondering why you couldn't have gone on to the Gorman system."

  "You can't launch a lander in hypertime, Mr. York."

  "In other words, the situation was that serious at the outset?" he asked.

  "Definitely."

  "How did you happen to choose the Gelhart system, Chief?"

  "It was closest," explained Barngate.

  "And Bonoplane was the closest planet?"

  "The closest habitable planet, yes." Barngate nodded. "Skyro was on the opposite leg of its orbit."

  "Weren't there other planets which could have been reached almost as quickly? For example, Grydo, in the Geddes system? I understand it's only six hours away."

  "We didn't have six hours, Mr. York."

  "Then it was quick?"

  "Very quick." Barngate nodded. "I had to make a decision, and I made it. Perhaps if there'd been time..." He shrugged.

  "I can appreciate that," York answered. "What was the nature of the emergency, Chief?"

  "Gas. A deadly poison gas," Barngate returned solemnly.

  "Gas?" York felt a slight shock. He'd known that since Benbow's inspection of the Rigel, but he hadn't expected the answer. It was as if Barngate had pulled a prop from under his reasoning.

  "The ship was suddenly flooded," Barngate explained.

  "That sudden?" asked York wonderingly.

  Barngate nodded. "It came through the central air-distribution system."

  "What kind of gas?"

  "I have no idea." Barngate turned, looking toward the Alphans. "You'll have to ask Hing Poy. He had the maintenance watch on the system at the time."

  "Hing?" York gazed at the lean, dark face.

  Hing Poy shook his head. "I wasn't on it at the time."

  "Why not?" he shot back.

  "Joe Peterson took the watch for me," he replied earnestly. "I was entered for the ship's Krabacci championship and was playing some practice games."

  "Krabacci, eh?" York nodded u
nderstandingly. "I hear they have a champion aboard the Draco here. Singkai, one of the maintenance technicians. You might like to challenge him."

  Hing Poy flashed a gleaming smile. "I know of Lu Singkai, Mr. York. Every Krabacci player in the fleet does. I would like very much to play him."

  "Perhaps that can be arranged," York said. "What are the duties of the man on watch?"

  "Just to check the system, take periodic readings and make certain everything's working. There's seldom any trouble."

  "That sounds easy enough," York assented. "Who were you playing with, Hing?"

  "Lee Chun." He gestured to the Alphan next to him.

  "Was anyone else present?"

  "Yes, sir. Wooten there." He indicated a slender young man with a thin, pale face and receding hairline.

  "Wooten?"

  "George Wooten, communication technician," Wooten answered in a clear, bell-like voice. "I was there."

  "Thank you," York acknowledged. He turned back to Hing Poy. "What kind of gas was it, Hing?"

  "I don't know. It was nothing I could identify."

  "Then you don't store it?"

  "No, sir."

  "Chun?" He switched his eyes to the second Alphan.

  "I have no idea, Mr. York."

  York looked at Captain Hull. "Do you know of any dangerous gas that a ship like the Rigel might store?"

  "None of that nature," Hull responded.

  "Thank you." He turned back to Barngate. "Where were you when the emergency occurred, Chief?"

  "I was coming through the central corridor, headed toward the bridge," Barngate answered. "I was slated to go on watch."

  "What happened, in your words?"

  "Well, I was near the ladder when I caught a whiff of something that stung my throat, then burned all the way down. I gasped once -- I remember that -- then caught my breath and headed for the closest mask locker. I got one on and ran for the bridge. When I got there, the captain, navigator and man on the communication watch -- that was Jerry Dakart -- already were down, gasping. The captain was struggling to reach the general-alarm button."

  "Didn't you think to take masks to the bridge?"

  "No, sir, they have a mask locker there," Barngate replied. "Aside from that, everything happened so suddenly that I didn't have time to think; at least I didn't think very clearly."

  "What did you do next?"

  "I ran to the mask locker."

  "The one on the bridge?"

  "Yes, sir, but I was too late. By the time I got a mask on the captain, he was gone. So were the others." He gestured helplessly. "There was nothing I could do."

  "That's understandable," York said. "Did you see any other men during that time?"

  "Jarrett ran to the bridge about that time." He nodded toward Shumway. "He looked in pretty bad shape. He'd caught a few whifls before he managed to get a mask."

  York glanced at Shumway. "How much did you breathe?"

  "Just a breath or two," answered Shumway surlily. "I was close to the locker when it happened."

  "Which locker?"

  "The one in the central corridor. That's at the foot of the ladder leading to the bridge."

  "The same one Barngate used?"

  "Yes, sir. I was right behind him."

  "What did you do after you got the mask?"

  "I followed the chief to the bridge."

  "But you were too late, eh?"

  "They were dead," said Shumway flatly. "Except the chief?"

  "He was trying to put a mask on the captain."

  "Did you see any other men during this time?"

  "None," declared Shumway.

  York switched his glance to Barngate. "What happened next, Chief?"

  "I sounded the gas alarm."

  "And then?"

  "I ordered Jarrett to run down to the air-distribution room to see what the trouble was," Barngate answered. "I knew we were in bad shape. The captain and navigator were dead, and the only thing I could think of was to find a safe landing spot. As nearly as I could figure, the Gelhart system was it."

  "When did you take the Rigel out of hypertime?"

  "Almost immediately. We were extremely close to the system, at least by the clock."

  "Quick thinking," York observed. "Did you see or hear anything unusual while all this was going on?"

  "I don't quite follow your meaning," Barngate replied. He cocked his head inquisitively.

  "Noises, voices, explosions, or anything like that?"

  "I heard a few shouts, but that was earlier, before I got back to the bridge."

  "You remained on the bridge during this time?"

  "Yes, sir. I'd just taken the Rigel out of hypertime and was trying to chart our course. I'm afraid it was a pretty confused period," he added.

  "Did you see anyone else during this time?"

  "On the bridge?" Barngate frowned. "Wooten came up about that time, followed by Hing Poy. I can't recall the exact time sequence."

  "Wooten and Hing Poy?" York glanced inquiringly at the communication technician.

  "That was a few minutes after the gas hit," Wooten explained. "When I realized what was happening, I grabbed a mask, ran to the communication room and sent out a distress signal."

  "Wasn't anyone there?"

  "The man on watch was dead, sir."

  "How soon was that after you sensed the gas?"

  "It seems like only a few moments." Wooten shook his head. "I really couldn't say. I guess I was too excited."

  York smiled. "I can understand that. Wasn't the ship in hypertime?"

  "I didn't think of that."

  "What did you do next?"

  "I got to thinking about sending the distress signal on my own; that's when I ran up to the bridge. The chief chased me back down."

  "Why?" York raised his eyes.

  "To send another signal. That's when I first realized the message hadn't gone through. We can't send or receive in hypertime," he added.

  "I'm aware of that," York commented. "Now think carefully, Wooten. Who suggested the second message, you or the chief?"

  "The chief," he promptly answered. York saw Barngate's eyes narrow slightly, and a shadow flitted across his face.

  York glanced at the captain, noticing the intentness in the mud-blue eyes before switching his gaze to Shumway. "What did you find in the air-distribution room?" he asked.

  Shumway raised his head and stared at the Alphans. "I saw Hing Poy running from the room."

  "Hing Poy?" York turned his eyes sharply.

  "That's my normal duty station," Poy explained calmly. "I ran there as soon as I got a mask."

  "What did you find?"

  "Peterson. He was lying on the floor."

  "Did you check him?"

  "No sir, I didn't think to. My first thought was the air system. I realized the trouble had to be there. I know it was," he added.

  "How?"

  "There were several gas-pressure cylinders scattered around."

  "Oh, could you identify them?"

  "No," Poy admitted, "but most pressure cylinders are much the same. We keep similar ones for the storage of oxygen and nitrogen."

  "What did you do?"

  "I switched on the emergency air-exchange system."

  "Perhaps you'd better explain that," York suggested.

  "It's an emergency backup system," Poy explained. "If the carbon dioxide content gets dangerously high or the main system breaks down, we switch to that system."

  "Can it clear the air if the purifiers break down?"

  "Yes, sir. It's costly, but that's what it does. It sucks Out all the old air and dumps it into space while it pumps back a fresh supply from the standby tanks."

  "That would require quite a bit of oxygen," York observed.

  "Oxygen and nitrogen," Poy corrected. "The gases are automatically mixed to the right proportion before they get into the system. The total atmospheric exchange
is computed at just under ten minutes."

  "So that's what you did, changed the atmosphere?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Without orders?"

  "Yes, sir," Hing Poy repeated steadily.

  "What happened next, Hing?"

  "I got to thinking I'd better report what I'd done. I was running out to find my chief -- that's Chief Patterson -- when I bumped into Shumway."

  "That sounds like fast thinking," York commented. "What happened next?"

  "Shumway told me to find Patterson. Said if I couldn't find him, I should report to the bridge."

  "What then?"

  "I found Patterson dead by the mask locker," Poy answered. "He wasn't alone. There were quite a few dead. As soon as I saw that, I ran to the bridge. Then Barngate sent me to see if I could find any of the officers alive."

  "And you didn't?" asked York gently.

  "No, sir, they were all dead."

  York looked at Lee Chun. "You're maintenance first, as I recall."

  "Yes, sir," Chun responded. His voice was polite and steady.

  "What did you do when Hing ran to the air-distribution room?"

  "I hurried to damage control," Chun replied. "That's my duty station."

  "Where is that?"

  "Forward on the second deck, next to the ship's hospital."

  "Go on," York urged.

  "I didn't see anyone alive. I ran to the hospital, but it was the same there. Then I thought of the bridge. I was running toward it when I met Hing. I went with him to see if we could find one of the officers," he finished.

  "I'm beginning to get the picture," York observed. He glanced around the room. Captain Hull was leaning forward, his lips pursed and eyebrows arched, giving him a somewhat perplexed expression. Tregaski appeared chiseled from granite, so hard and unmoving were his features. Benbow wore a curiously expectant look. Most of the Rigel survivors were hunched forward, watching him intently. Shumway's scowl had deepened, and he kept his eyes averted.

  York continued, "We have several more men to hear from." He indicated a fat-faced man with a bald crown. "Your name?"

  "Sam Gordon, engine technician," the man responded nervously.

  "Where were you when the emergency occurred?"

  "In the crew's galley. I was with Ival, Mason and Bagby." He gestured toward his companions.