The Space Opera Megapack: 20 Modern and Classic Science Fiction Tales

by John W. Campbell

  “It’s all right—the tag-swarm is on the far side of No. 480,” he reported. “It should be safe to blast straight toward Vesta now.”

  The captain’s anxiety was only partly assuaged. “But when we reach the asteroid, what then? How do we get through the satellite-swarm around it?”

  “I can pilot you through that,” Kenniston assured him. “There’s a periodic break in that swarm, due to gravitational perturbations of the spinning meteor-moons. I know how to find it.”

  “Then I’ll wake you up early tomorrow ‘morning’ before we reach Vesta,” vowed Captain Walls. “I’ve no hankering to run that swarm myself.”

  “We’ll be there in the morning?” exclaimed Gloria with eager delight. “How long then will it take us to find the pirate wreck?”

  Kenniston uncomfortably evaded the question. “I don’t know—it shouldn’t take long. We can land in the jungle near the wreck.”

  His feeling of guilt was increased by her enthusiastic excitement. If she and the others only knew what the morrow was to bring them!

  He did not feel like facing the rest of them now, and lingered on the dark deck when they went back down from the bridge. Gloria remained beside him instead of going on to the cabin.

  She stood, with the starlight from the transparent deck-wall falling upon her youthful face as she looked up at him.

  “You are a moody creature, you know,” she told Kenniston lightly. “Sometimes you’re almost human—then you get all dark and grim again.”

  Kenniston grinned despite himself. Her voice came in mock surprise. “Why, it can actually smile! I can’t believe my eyes.”

  Her clear young face was provocatively close, the faint perfume of her dark hair in his nostrils. He knew that she was deliberately flirting with him, perhaps mostly out of curiosity.

  She expected him to kiss her, he knew. Damn it, he would kiss her! He did so, half ironically. But the ironic amusement faded out of his mind somehow at the oddly shy contact of her soft lips.

  “Why, you’re just a kid,” he muttered. “A little kid masquerading as a bored, sophisticated young lady.”

  Gloria stiffened with anger. “Don’t be silly! I’ve kissed men before. I just wanted to find out what you were really like.”

  “Well, what did you find out?”

  Her voice softened. “I found out that you’re not as grim as you look. I think you’re just lonely.”

  The truth of that made Kenniston wince. Yes, he was lonely enough, he thought somberly. All his old space-mates, passing one by one—

  “Don’t you have anyone?” Gloria was asking him wonderingly.

  “No family, except my kid brother Ricky,” he answered heavily. “And most of my old space-partners are either dead or else worse—lying in the grip of gravitation-paralysis.”

  Memory of those old partners reestablished Kenniston’s wavering resolution. He mustn’t let them down! He must go through with delivering this cruiser’s cargo to John Dark, no matter what the consequences.

  He thrust the girl almost roughly from him. “It’s getting late. You’d better turn in like the others.”

  But later, in his bunk in the little cabin he shared with Holk Or, Kenniston found memory of Gloria a barrier to sleep. The shy touch of her lips refused to be forgotten. What would she think of him by tomorrow?

  He slept, finally. When he awakened, it was to realization that someone had just sharply spoken his name. He knew drowsily it was ‘morning’ and thought at first that Captain Walls had sent someone to awaken him.

  Then he stiffened as he saw who had awakened him. It was Hugh Murdock. The young businessman’s sober face was grim now, and he stood in the doorway of the cabin with a heavy atom-pistol in his hand.

  “Get up and dress, Kenniston,” Murdock said sternly. “And wake up your fellow-pirate, too. If you make a wrong move I’ll kill you both.”

  CHAPTER III

  Through the Meteor-Moons

  Kenniston went cold with dismay. He told himself numbly that it was impossible Hugh Murdock could have discovered the truth. But the grim expression on Murdock’s face and the naked hate in his eyes were explainable on no other grounds.

  The young businessman’s finger was tense on the trigger of the atom-pistol. Resistance would be senseless. Mechanically, Kenniston slipped from his bunk and threw on his slacks and space-jacket. Holk Or was doing the same, the big Jovian’s battered green face almost ludicrous in astonishment.

  “Now perhaps you’ll tell us what this means,” Kenniston said harshly, his mind racing. “Have you lost your senses?”

  “I’ve just come to them, Kenniston,” rapped Murdock. “What fools we all were, not to guess that you two belong to Dark’s pirates!”

  Kenniston’s lips tightened. It was clear now that Murdock had actually discovered something. From Holk Or came an angry roar.

  “Devils of Pluto, I’m no pirate!” the big Jovian lied magnificently. “Whatever gave you this crazy idea?”

  Murdock’s hard face did not relax. He waved the atom-pistol. “Go into the main cabin,” he ordered. “Walk ahead of me.”

  Helplessly, Kenniston and Holk Or obeyed. His mind was desperate as he shouldered down the corridor. The throbbing of the rockets told him the Sunsprite was still forging through the void. They must be very near Vesta by now—and now this had to happen!

  The others had been awakened by the uproar and streamed into the main cabin after Murdock and his two prisoners. Kenniston glimpsed Gloria, slim in a silken negligee, her dark eyes round with amazement.

  “Hugh, have you gone crazy?” she exclaimed stupefiedly.

  Murdock answered without looking toward her. “I’ve found out the truth, Gloria. These men belong to John Dark’s crew. They were taking us into a trap.”

  “Holy smoke!” gasped Robbie Boone, his jaw sagging as the chubby youth stared at Kenniston and Holk Or. “They’re pirates?”

  “I think you must be losing your mind!” Gloria stormed at Hugh Murdock. “This is ridiculous.”

  Holk Or yawned elaborately. “Space-sickness hits people in queer ways, Miss Loring,” the Jovian told Gloria confidentially. “Some it just makes sick, but others it makes delirious.”

  “I’m not delirious, and you two know it,” Murdock retorted grimly. He spoke to Gloria and the others, without taking his eyes or the muzzle of his pistol off his two captives.

  “I thought from the first that this Kenniston’s story of finding the wreck of Dark’s ship on Vesta was a thin one,” Murdock declared. “And yesterday my suspicions were increased when I went down and looked over the cargo of equipment they brought. It’s not equipment to dig out a buried wreck. It’s equipment to repair a damaged ship—John Dark’s ship!

  “Suspecting that, last ‘night’ I sent a telaudiogram to Patrol headquarters at Earth. I gave full descriptions of Kenniston and this Jovian and inquired if they had criminal records. An answer came through an hour ago. This fellow Holk Or has a record of criminal piracy as long as your arm, and was definitely known to be one of John Dark’s crew!”

  There was an incredulous gasp from the others. Murdock still grimly watched Kenniston and the Jovian as he concluded.

  “The Patrol hasn’t yet sent through Kenniston’s record, but it’s obvious enough that he’s one of Dark’s men too, and that his story that he and the Jovian are meteor-miners is a flat lie.”

  “I can’t understand this,” muttered young Arthur Lanning, staring. “If they’re Dark’s men, why should they induce us to go to Vesta?”

  “Can’t you see?” said Hugh Murdock. “John Dark’s ship did crash on Vesta after being wrecked—that must be true enough. But Dark and his pirates weren’t dead as the Patrol thought. They had to have machines and material to repair their ship. So Dark sent these two men to Mars for the materials. The two couldn’t get a ship there any other way, so they made use of our cruiser by selling us that treasure yarn!”

  Kenniston winced. He knew now that he had un
derestimated Murdock, who had put together the evidence quickly when his suspicions were roused.

  Gloria Loring, looking at Kenniston with wide dark eyes, saw the change in his expression. Into her white face came an incredulous loathing.

  “Then it’s true,” she whispered. “You did that—you deliberately planned to lead us all into capture?”

  “Aw, you’re all space-struck,” growled Holk Or, bluffing to the last.

  Murdock spoke over his shoulder. “Call Captain Walls, Robbie.”

  “No need to—here he comes now!” yelped the excited youth.

  Captain Walls, entering the cabin in urgent haste, had eyes only for Kenniston in the first moment.

  “Ah, there you are, Mr. Kenniston!” the captain exclaimed relievedly. “I was just coming for you. We’ve reached Vesta! I’ve ordered the pilot to slow down, for I want you to pilot us through the swarm—”

  The captain’s voice trailed off. His eyes bulged as for the first time he perceived that Murdock was covering the two men with a gun.

  “We’re not going in to Vesta, captain,” rapped Murdock. “John Dark and his pirates are on the asteroid—alive!”

  Captain Walls’ plump face went waxy as he heard the name of the most dreaded corsair of the System.

  “Dark—living?” he stuttered. “Good God, you must be joking!”

  Mrs. Milsom, her dumpy figure shivering and her teeth chattering with terror, pointed a finger at Kenniston and the Jovian.

  “They’re two of the pirates!” she shrilled. “They might have murdered us all in our beds! I knew this would happen when we left Earth—”

  Kenniston’s mind was seething with despair as he stood there with hands upraised. His whole desperate plan was ruined at this last moment.

  He wouldn’t let it be ruined! He would get this cargo of machines and materials to John Dark if it meant his life!

  “Turn back at once toward Mars, captain,” Gloria was saying quietly to the stunned officer. Her face was still very pale.

  Kenniston, standing tense, had had an idea. A desperate chance to make a break, in the face of Murdock’s atom-gun.

  The captain had said that he had just ordered the pilot to slow down the Sunsprite. In a moment would come the shock of the braking rocket-tubes firing from the bows—

  That shock came an instant after the wild expedient flashed across Kenniston’s mind. It was only a jarring vibration through the fabric of the ship, for the pilot knew his business.

  It staggered them all on their feet, for just a moment. But Kenniston had been waiting for that moment. As Hugh Murdock moved his gun-arm involuntarily to balance himself, Kenniston lunged forward.

  “The bridge, Holk!” he yelled as he hurled himself.

  Kenniston’s shoulder hit the captain and sent him caroming into Murdock. The two men sprawled on the floor.

  Holk Or, with instant understanding, already had the door of the cabin open. They plunged out into the corridor together.

  “Our only chance is to make the bridge and grab the controls!” Kenniston cried as they raced down the corridor. “We can keep them long enough to land on Vesta—”

  Hiss—flash! The crackling blast of the atom-gun tore into the lower steps of the ladder up which he and the Jovian frantically climbed. Murdock was running after them as he fired, and there were shouts of alarm.

  Kenniston and Holk Or burst into the glassite-walled bridge. Bray, the pilot, turned for a startled moment from his rocket-throttles.

  Beyond the pilot, the transparent front wall framed a square of black space in which bulked the monstrous sphere of the nearby asteroid.

  The World with a Thousand Moons! It loomed up only a few hundred miles away, a big, pale-green sphere encircled by the vast globular swarm of hundreds on hundreds of gleaming little meteor-satellites.

  “Why—what—” stammered the pilot, bewildered.

  Kenniston’s fist caught his chin, and the man sagged to the floor.

  “Bar the door, Holk!” yelled Kenniston as he leaped toward the rocket-throttles.

  “Hell, there’s only a catch!” swore the Jovian. He braced his brawny shoulders against the metal door. “I can hold it a little while.”

  Kenniston’s hands were flashing over the throttles. The Sunsprite was moving at reduced speed toward the meteor-enclosed asteroid.

  The cruiser shook to the bursting roar of power, as he opened up all the tail rockets. It plunged visibly faster toward the deadly swarm around Vesta, picking up speed by the minute.

  Rocking, creaking, quivering to the dangerous rate of acceleration Kenniston was maintaining, the little ship rushed ahead. But now there was loud hammering at the bridge-room door.

  “Open up or we’ll burn that door down!” came Captain Walls’ yell.

  Kenniston didn’t turn. Hunched over the throttles, peering tensely ahead, he was tautly estimating speed and direction. His eyes searched frantically for the periodic break in the outer meteors.

  There was a muffled crackling and the smell of scorched metal flooded the bridge-room. A hoarse exclamation of pain came from Holk Or.

  “They got my arm through the door, damn them!” cursed the Jovian. “Hurry, Kenniston!”

  Kenniston was driving the Sunsprite full speed toward the whirling cloud of meteors around the asteroid. He had spotted the break in the cloud, the periodic opening caused by the gravitational influence of another nearby asteroid.

  It was not a real opening. It was merely a small area in the swarm where the rushing meteors were not so thick, and where a ship had a chance to worm through by careful piloting.

  Kenniston only remotely heard the struggle that Holk Or was putting up to hold the door against the hammering crowd outside. His mind was wholly intent on the desperately ticklish piloting at hand.

  He cut speed and eased the Sunsprite down into that thinner area of the meteor-swarm. Space around them now seemed buzzing with rushing, brilliant little moons.

  The meteorometers had gone crazy, blinking and buzzing unceasing warning, their needles bobbing all over the direction-dials. Instruments were useless here—he had to work by sight alone. He eased the cruiser lower through the swarm, his fingers flashing over the throttles, using quick bursts of the rockets to veer aside from the bright, rushing meteors.

  “Hurry!” yelled Holk Or hoarsely again, over the tumult. “I can’t—hold them out much longer—”

  Down and down went the Sunsprite through the maze of meteor-moons, twisting, turning, dropping ever lower toward the green asteroid.

  A last gasping shout from Holk Or, and the door crashed off its burned-through hinges. Kenniston, unable to turn from the life-or-death business of threading the swarm, heard the Jovian fighting furiously.

  Next moment a hand gripped Kenniston’s shoulder and tore him away from the controls. It was Murdock, his eyes blazing, his gun raised.

  “Raise your hands or I’ll kill you, Kenniston!” he cried.

  “Let me go!” yelled Kenniston, struggling to get back to the throttles. “You fool!”

  He had just glimpsed the jagged moonlet rushing obliquely toward them from the left, bulking suddenly big and monstrous.

  Crash! The shock flung them from their feet, and the Sunsprite gyrated crazily in space. There was a blood-chilling shriek of outrushing air from the fore part of the ship, and the slam-slam-slam of the automatic air-doors closing, down there.

  The cruiser’s whole bows had been crushed in by the glancing blow of the meteor. Now, ironically, the ship was falling clear of the meteor-swarm for Kenniston’s piloting had almost won through it before the impact. But the Sunsprite was falling helplessly, turning over and over as it plunged down toward the green surface of the jungled asteroid.

  “By God, we’re struck!” came Captain Walls’ thin yell.

  “This is your fault!” Murdock blazed at Kenniston. “You damned pirates will die for this!”

  “Let me at those controls or we’ll all die together in five
minutes!” Kenniston cried. “We’ll crash to smithereens unless I can make a tail-tube landing—”

  Heedless of Murdock’s gun, he jumped to the controls. His hands flew over the throttles, firing desperate quick bursts of the tail rocket-tubes to bring them out of the spin in which they were falling.

  The brake-rockets in the bow were gone. The ship was crippled, almost impossible to handle. And the dark green jungles of Vesta’s surface were rushing upward with appalling speed.

  Kenniston’s frantic efforts brought the Sunsprite out of the spin. By firing the lateral rockets, he kept it falling tail-downward.

  “We’re goners!” yelled someone in the stricken ship. “We’re going to crash!”

  Air was screaming outside the plummeting ship. Kenniston, his hands superhumanly tense on the throttles, mechanically estimated their distance from the uprushing green jungles.

  He glimpsed a little black lake in the jungle, and near it the big circle of an electrified stockade. He recognized it—John Dark’s camp!

  Then, a thousand feet above the jungle, Kenniston’s hands jerked open the throttles. The tail rockets spouted fire downward.

  Sickening shock of the sudden check almost hurled him away from the controls. His hands jabbed the throttles in and out with lightning rapidity, checking their further fall with one quick burst after another.

  A sound of rending branches—a staggering sidewise shock that flung him from his feet. A jarring thump, then silence. They had landed.

  CHAPTER IV

  The Vestans

  Kenniston picked himself up groggily. The others in the bridge had been thrown against walls or floor by the shock, but seemed no more than bruised. Holk Or was nursing his burned arm. But Hugh Murdock, staggering in a corner, still held his atom-pistol trained on Kenniston and the Jovian.

  “My God, what a landing!” exclaimed Captain Walls, his plump face still white. “I thought we were done for.”

  “Maybe we still are,” Murdock said grimly. He said savagely to Kenniston, “You think you’ve won, don’t you? Because you’ve managed to crash us on this asteroid where your pirate boss is waiting?”