The Mack Reynolds Megapack

by Mack Reynolds

  “Be ready in a second,” Dick Roland told him.

  “Good. By the way, you fellows hear the news?”

  They weren’t particularly interested. There wasn’t any news that could develop on a space cruiser on a year long trip.

  He said, nonchalantly, “Commander Gurloff thinks he’ll turn around and head back home.”

  They spun on him. “What!”

  He grinned at their excitement. “April Fool!”

  They stared at him, then their eyes went to each other, questioningly.

  Doctr Thorndon entered the tiny officer’s mess and wardroom just in time to pick up the end of the conversation. He said soothingly, “Never mind, boys, he’s not down with cafard. It’s a joke.”

  “A joke?” Johnny Norsen grumbled. “Why the fat little makron had Dick and me believing him for a minute. What’s this about April something or other?”

  Doc Thorndon settled into a chair. He was a cheerful, rolypoly man, his cheeks still pink but his hair thinning and graying. He was about forty-five—old for the space service.

  “April Fool,” he said. “It’s a time-honored jest. By the ancient calendar there was a day in the Terran year during which persons played practical jokes on each other. When the victim became indignant, the perpetrator merely called out April Fool! and the other was forced to admit himself duped.”

  They still didn’t quite get it. Doc Thorndon added, patiently, “If we were still following the old calendar, this would be April 1st, All Fool’s Day, as they called it.” Dick Roland said, “Well, anyway, here’s the video-news for last April Fool’s Day.” He dimmed the room’s lights and flashed the video wire on the wall so that everyone could read.

  Over an hour later, he said, “Should we run it again now, or should we wait another couple of hours.”

  “Three times is enough,” Johnny Norsen said, “We’ll get tired of it, otherwise. Remember, it’s another twenty-four hours until we get another one. Let’s sit around and discuss it for awhile.”

  “Yeah,” Mart Bakr said. The chubby third officer shook his head in reluctant admiration. “Did you see that item about Jackie Black? They almost got him there on Calypso, but he’s too slick for them.”

  Johnny Norsen grunted contemptuously. “I don’t think that was him at all. Too big, for one thing. I wouldn’t be surprised if Black was still on Earth. They’ve been reporting him on every planet and satellite in the system, but I’ll bet he never left Neuve Los Angeles, where he pulled his last—”

  “Caper,” Doc Thorndon said.

  The other three looked at him. “His what?” Mart Bakr asked.

  “His caper,” the doctr repeated, pleased with himself. “It’s a new word I ran into today. Criminals used to call a crime a caper.”

  Dick Roland shook his head and grinned. “What a hobby. Prehistoric slang.”

  There was a gentle knock at the wardroom door and the four of them looked up at the messman who stood there, somewhat nervous at being in officer’s country.

  “Yes, Spillane?” Johnny Norsen said.

  The messman cleared his throat. “Could you tell me where the skipper is, sir?”

  “I think he’s sleeping, Spillane. What is it?”

  “Well, sir. Well… there’s a stowaway on board.” He cleared his throat again and said, “We found her in the number eight compartment.” His eyes went from one to the other of them. He added, decisively, “Yes, sir.”

  Doc Thorndon was the first to explode. “Her!” he blurted.

  Mart Bakr started suddenly to laugh. His chuckle swelled into a roar and the others turned to stare at him in his turn. He was finally able to get out, “April Fool! We all bit again. April Fool!”

  Spillane looked blank.

  The faces of the others relaxed. Even the angular features of Johnny Norsen twisted themselves in a wry grin. He said, “You certainly caught us, Spillane.”

  The messman looked anxiously from one of the ship’s officers to the other. “Yes, sir,” he said.

  “What?”

  Johnny Norsen scowled and said, “Run along now, Spillane. It was a good joke. Congratulations.”

  “Joke, sir? What joke?”

  Doc Thorndon had settled back into his chair now. “Oh, come along, Spillane. We—”

  A new voice, pitched low, and somewhat timid, said from the doorway, “Could I come in, now?”

  Johnny Norsen was facing the other way. He didn’t turn to look at her for a full minute. Instead, he closed his eyes and muttered in pain, “Oh, no. Forty-five men and one woman in a ship that’s to be in space for twelve months!”

  She wasn’t beautiful, nor even pretty, as current tastes went—but she had something, very definitely. She was about five foot five and probably in her middle twenties. Her attractiveness lay in a certain eagerness, a brightness, an interest in what was going on about her, no matter what it might be. Yes, she had something, very definitely. It was hard to put your finger on it.

  Right now, she was attired in a simple sports dress, wrinkled and somewhat soiled from her period in hiding among the supplies in compartment eight. Her eyes went nervously from one to the other of them and she self consciously brushed her clothes, avoiding her breasts and hips, as though not wishing to bring her sex to their attention.

  Johnny Norsen blurted, “Holy Jumping Wodo, Miss! Do you know where you are?”

  She looked down at the steel deck, toeing in like a little girl who’d been caught at something naughty. Her voice was very low. “Yes, sir,” she whispered.

  “Oh, you do, eh?” Norsen rasped.

  Mart Bakr spoke for the first time since the apparition had appeared. “Don’t pick on her, Norsen,” he said truculently. “Can’t you see the poor kid’s scared?”

  The first officer spun on him. “Scared?” he said bitterly. “We’re the ones that ought to be scared.” He turned back to the girl. “Come on, Miss. Let’s go see the captain.”

  Mart Bakr and Dick Roland, the latter’s eyes still popping, started to follow into the corridor. Johnny Norsen grunted, “You two had better stay here. This many of us can’t crowd into the skipper’s quarters.” He added, sarcastically, “Besides, it’s probably going to be a trifle hot in there.”

  He made no protest when Doctr Thorndon followed and the three of them, ship’s first officer, stowaway, and ship’s doctr made a procession down the corridor past a score of open mouthed crew members.

  “Oh, brother, a dame on board,” a jetman muttered happily.

  “Knock it off, Johnson,” the first officer snapped in irritation over his shoulder.

  They rapped at the Captain’s cubbyhole which doubled as his living quarters and the space cruiser’s office. A voice from within growled, “What the kert is it?”

  Norsen fingered the door release and entered, followed by the two others.

  There was a flat silence which Johnny Norsen broke by saying dryly, “A stowaway, sir. The crew found her in the number eight compartment.”

  Commander Mike Gurloff had been relaxed on his bunk, staring unseeingly at the overhead. Now he spun around and came to an elbow, blinking.

  “Holy Jumping Wodo!” he blurted.

  “Yes, sir,” Norsen said. “That’s what I said. Probably the first female stowaway on a military craft since the beginning of intergalactical warfare.” He added, as though anyone needed reminding, “A year long cruise—forty-five men and one woman.”

  Doc Thorndon closed the door behind them. He said, softly, “We’re only three days out, Mike.” He was the only man aboard who habitually called the burly commander by his first name. “We could turn back.”

  The skipper brought his feet around to the floor and sat up. He stared at the girl, almost vacantly, then lowered his shaven head into his hands. He was a big man and toughened by the long years in the space service which had seen him rise to the position of the outstanding ship’s officer of his generation. He sat there like that for a full five minutes.

  Fina
lly he took a deep breath and brought his eyes up to her. “What is your name. Miss?” Then he cleared his throat and said, more gently, “Don’t be afraid. What’s your name?”

  “It’s Kathleen…sir.” She added, after swallowing, “They call me Kathy.”

  He continued to look at her, and she said, nervously, “Kathleen Westley.”

  “All right, Miss Westley. Now tell us about it.” He indicated the swivel chair at the desk, the only chair in the tiny room. “You might as well sit down.”

  She sat in the chair, knees together and her hands in her lap, and looked less frightened now.

  Gurloff said, “Tell us about it.”

  She swallowed once more and said, “I don’t sec why women aren’t allowed in the Space Service.” There was an edge of defiance in her voice.

  Doc Thorndon said softly, “There are various reasons, Miss. Some of them medical, especially in intergalactic travel.”

  “Well, I don’t see—”

  Commander Gurloff said, “It doesn’t make much difference right at the moment, does it? What are you doing aboard my ship, Miss Westley?” His face was expressionless, almost as though he was too tired to care.

  She tossed her head infinitesimally, and her lower lip protruded. “I…I’ve always wanted to be a space…well, a spaceman.”

  Inadvertently, Gurloff’s eyes took in her full breast, her rounded hips. He said, wryly, “I’m afraid something went wrong with your ambitions twenty-five or so years ago.”

  The girl flushed, but her face remained defiant.

  Doctr Thorndon said, “To make it short, Miss Westley, do we understand that you stowed away on this vessel to prove that women are quite as suitable for space travel as are men?”

  Her mouth tightened stubbornly and she nodded.

  Commander Gurloff asked, “And did you know that this vessel was to be in space for a period of over a year, Miss? A year is rather a long time.”

  Her eyes widened at that. “A…a year?”

  Gurloff grunted, suddenly weary of the interview. He said, “Mr. Norsen, take our…our passenger back to the officer’s mess. I suppose she’s hungry.” He thought it over briefly. “She can have the second and third officer’s stateroom. One of them can bunk with you, the other in the ship’s hospital.” His mouth tightened. “See that the lock on the door is in good repair and that she has a key.”

  The skipper’s eyes went back to the girl. He said, “Later—we’re going to have lots of time, Miss Westley—later, you can give us any further details about your decision to become a…a spaceman.” He motioned with his head and Johnny Norsen took her by the arm to lead her out.

  Gurloff said, “Do you mind staying a while, Doctr?”

  After the first officer and the girl had left, Doc Thorndon sank into the chair she had vacated. He waited for the other to speak.

  Commander Mike Gurloff sank prone on the bed again and his eyes focused on a rivet in the overhead. He said, “Possibly she’s the straw.”

  “The one that broke the camel’s back, eh?”

  Gurloff said, “Doc, have you wondered why we’ve been sent out on a cruise less than two weeks after the last one? Out on a cruise that’ll take over a year? A year! And half of my men on the verge of space cafard after finishing the last trip.”

  Doctr Thorndon nodded and rubbed the end of his nose with a forefinger. He said, “No, I haven’t wondered. I know the reason, Mike. By the way, did you know that they sent us off in such a hurry that our supplies of books, games, music wires, video-wires—all of our means of entertainment, in short—were ‘accidentally’ not replenished? Nothing, that is, except last year’s news wires.”

  Mike Gurloff’s eyes came around to him and his lips thinned back over his teeth.

  Doc Thorndon nodded again. “The men are reading books that they’ve already read a dozen times over; playing games they’re sick and tired of; seeing video-shows they’ve already memorized. They’ll never get through the full year, Mike. Cafard will have us in less than six months.”

  The skipper’s face went blank again and he stared vacantly at the overhead.

  Doc Thorndon said, “They’ve got you this time, I’m afraid, Mike.”

  Gurloff bit out stubbornly. “The crew is with me. We’re the proudest ship in the fleet. We’ve got a record that’s the envy of the solar system. We’ll—”

  The doctr shook his head. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to turn back, Mike. I can’t guarantee this crew’s mental health for a period of a year.”

  Gurloff held a hand up, clenched the fist. “We’ve got to make it!”

  He came to his elbow again, faced the other. “I’ve got them this time, Doc, if we can just make this trip. Don’t you see? The filthy makrons can’t stand outspoken criticism. They hate the popularity I’ve been accumulating with the public. I’ve become the spokesman for the opposition, and they’ve tried to keep me quiet by a series of cruises that seemed impossible to succeed. They’ve sent the New Taos to spots that required a full fleet, and we came back with the information they wanted. They sent us on assignments impossible to achieve, and we achieved them. And each time we won out, we gained that much more of the public’s approval.”

  Doc Thorndon allowed a half smile to touch his mouth. “Sure, Mike. And each time we returned from a cruise, you made a withering speech against the powers that be, against the present administration. And, each time, they’ve pulled the same trick; they’ve sent you out on another long cruise to get you away from Solar System politics. Each time they figured to be rid of you—and this time, Mike, I’m afraid they’ve won.”

  “No!”

  “Yes.”

  The skipper glared at him.

  Doc Thorndon held his palms up in a hopeless gesture. “If you try to complete the trip, your whole crew will be down with cafard in months. If you return, before completing your assignment they’ll have a legitimate excuse for court martialing you.” His voice went gentler now. “Personally, Mike, I’d stick it out with you. I’m behind what you stand for. I think every man on the ship is also. But—”

  Gurloff said, in sudden enthusiasm, “I’ll give them a talk over the intercom. I’ll explain the whole thing. Let them know why we’ve been discriminated against like this. Why we’ve been sent out repeatedly, without sufficient rest periods between.”

  Thorndon rubbed the end of his nose again and scowled. “You’ll do nothing of the sort, Mike. At first, they’d all be with you. But, as the months went by and as the grief piled up, they’d begin, subconsciously, at first, to see that it was you alone who was bringing such strain upon them. There’d be too much of that strain, finally, Mike. They’d turn on you.”

  Gurloff slumped back into his bunk and thought about it. “They’ll know sooner or later anyway,” he growled. “You said that we’ve got a full year’s supply of news wires on board. It won’t be long before somebody runs off that one telling about my last speech, just before we left. Then they’ll know why the New Taos was sent out again so soon. That is, if they don’t know already. Maybe somebody heard the talk, or read about it, while they were ashore.”

  Doc Thorndon grinned. “I doubt if anybody heard it except me. They were all too busy wine, women, and songs to listen to speeches. And I took care of the wires. I’ve made arrangements so that the Video-news wires are run off one a day. The cruise will almost be over before they come to that speech of yours,” His face soured again. “But the point is, Mike, that we’re not going to last that long. Even if this girl…”

  He broke off and stared at the other. Finally he said, slowly, “You know, Mike, maybe we’re wrong. Maybe she’s not the straw that broke the camel’s back. Maybe she’s a second backbone for the poor beast.”

  Gurloff scowled over at him. “I don’t get you, Doc.”

  “You will, Mike. You will. Maybe we’ll be able to take this next twelve months, after all.” The Doctr licked his upper lip, thoughtfully. “I think I’ll just go and see Miss…
see Kathy, now. I’ve got some things I want to talk over with her.”

  The conversation between Doc Thorndon and Kathy had been a lengthy one, and the officers and crew of the space cruiser New Taos would have been surprised at the ship’s doctr they thought they knew so well for his gentle kindliness. In fact, it could hardly be described as a conversation at all, since it started as an argument and wound up as a series of commands none too softly spoken.

  Doc Thorndon shook his finger at her, not disguising his irritation.

  “You just think you can’t sing. Let me tell you, you can sing. Can and will! Just remember, you’ve the only feminine voice on board. To a man, a woman’s voice sounds better than any masculine one—particularly after a few weeks in space, not to speak of months. Any woman’s voice.”

  Kathy had her eyes on the floor and her lower lip was out in what was almost a pout. “I don’t see why—”

  Thorndon grunted, “You don’t have to see why. I’ll do the seeing why, and the thinking, Kathy. I’ve let it go out over the ship that we are to have a…a show in about a month. The men are already spending almost full time in preparation. They’re making costumes, arranging scenery, composing songs. It’s keeping them busy. Busy, understand?” He paused momentarily, realizing that she didn’t know just how important that was.

  He finished with, “We’ve made an agreement, Kathy. Now let’s stick to it.”

  She said, stubbornly, “I still say I can’t sing, and, what’s more, I’ve never done any acting.”

  “You’ve got a month to learn,” Doc said sharply.

  Kathy twisted in her chair, shrugged her shoulders. “Seems to me,” she pouted, “the doctr on this ship is more important than the captain.”

  His mouth remained expressionless and she didn’t know him well enough to see the amusement in his eyes. He said, “Believe me, Kathy, on a ship faced with space cafard, he is.”

  Kathy sat at the small table in the officer’s wardroom and eyed the three of them severely. She said, “Johnny, Dick, Martie— I won’t have any more of this bickering. Either you’ll be nice, or I’m not going to…to put up with it. I’ll go in and talk with Commander Gurloff for the next two hours, and then the officer’s share of the day will be through.”