The Mack Reynolds Megapack

by Mack Reynolds

  Mart Bakr flashed an irritated glance at the lanky Johnny Norsen. “It’s his fault,” he grumbled. “He wants you to himself all the time. I thought it’d be a good idea if we went into the galley and whipped up some taffy or—”

  Johnny Norsen was on his feet. “Why you chunky little chow-hound, I’ll—”

  Mart Bakr jumped up to face him, his face livid, “Don’t you call me names, you long legged makron!”

  “Please!” Kathy breathed, putting her hands over her ears.

  The usually easy going Dick Roland reddened angrily, “Watch your language, Bakr,” he snapped.

  Jak Heming, Space Rifleman, 2nd Class, hurried down the corridor and into the crew’s mess, bearing his invaluable burden importantly. He looked about the compartment in surprise.

  “Where the kert is everybody?” he said. Only three others were present.

  Taylor was nearest the door. He stuck his head out, looked up and down the passageway outside. “Any braid around?” he asked.

  Heming shook his head. “The officers are all up forward. Just gave me the video-news wire for today. Holy Wodo, I expected everybody off watch to be waiting here for it.”

  Taylor said, “We got two shows today, Jak. And everybody but us four is watching the second one.”

  Heming didn’t get it. Scowling questioningly at them, he went to the projector and began to insert the wire.

  Woodford, 1st Signalman, explained. “Rosen and Johnson are having it out with stun guns down in the tract-torpedo room.”

  The space rifleman stared. “A fight! You mean that they’re having a fight?”

  Taylor said, “That’s right.” He seemed pleased about it. “A fight it is. The screwy makrons got into an argument about Kathy and they decided to have it out. The Doc is refereeing the thing. He made ’em turn the stun guns down so they can’t hurt each other too much.”

  “Doc Thorndon?” That was as surprising as the fact that a fight was taking place at all. “That doesn’t sound like the Doc; he’s the one that usually cools everything off.”

  “Let’s see the wire,” Woodford complained. “Now that I think about it, I’m sorry I didn’t go down and see the fight. It’s just that I can’t wait to see whether or not they got this Jackie Black yet.” He shook his head in reluctant admiration. “Now, there’s a guy for you. Slick as they come, and tough as they come, too.”

  Taylor added, “They’ll get him. Just wait and see. The Solar System Bureau of Investigation gets them all, sooner or later. They’ll—”

  Heming snapped, “Like kert they will! You just never hear about the guys they don’t catch, they don’t give them no publicity. Ten credits says they haven’t caught Black by the time we end this here trip.”

  Taylor said sourly, “You know gambling isn’t allowed in space.”

  “Put up, or shut up. I say they won’t catch Jackie Black by the time we get back.”

  Taylor flushed angrily. “All right, all right. I’ll just take that.”

  “Let’s see the wire and knock off all this argument,” somebody else put in.

  The news video began to flash and they lapsed into silence.

  * * * *

  In the brief darkness of the shadow of a space rifle, Mart Bakr whispered hurriedly, urgently, “I could come to your room later, while Dick is on watch and while Johnny Norsen is sleeping. We—”

  “Why, Martie,” she said scoldingly, but keeping her voice low. “I…I think you’re insulting me.”

  He protested, vehemently as possible in his whisper.

  * * * *

  On watch in the control room Petersen said to Ward, “You know, when she first came aboard, that is, when we first caught her, Kathy didn’t look so good to me. Nice girl, you know, but not what I’d call pretty. But these last six months with her being the only gal on board—”

  Ward said coldly, “Just what do you mean, Petersen?”

  The other shrugged. “You know, like that old, old gag they used to tell about the soldiers in New Guinea in the second—or was it the third or fourth?—World War. The one soldier’d say to the other one, ‘You know, the longer I’m here the less black they look to me.’”

  Ward spun him around and grasped his coverall front. He bit out between his teeth, “Listen, you makron, you’re talking about Kathy, understand! Watch your damned mouth!”

  Kathy, Doc Thorndon, Mart Bakr, Johnny Norsen and Dick Roland sat in the officer’s wardroom, preparatory to showing that day’s news wire. In spite of the importance of this one break in the day’s monotony, the eyes of all three of the younger men were on the girl.

  Used, by this time, to the attention, Kathy was able to ignore it. She said, “Just who is this Jackie Black that you’re always talking about?”

  “The last of the Robin Hoods,” Doc Thorndon said softly.

  “Robin Hoods?” she frowned.

  “Bet you five credits it’s something he dug up out of one of his old books,” Johnny Norsen snorted.

  “You’d win then,” Doc said. He turned his face to Kathy to explain. “The original Robin Hood was an outlaw who robbed from the rich but gave to the poor—a very long time ago. Since then, every time a bandit makes a practice of being kind to the poor, they’ve called him a Robin Hood.” He added, dry of voice, “Very seldom do they deserve the name.”

  She was interested. “Oh? Well, does this…what was his name, again…?”

  “Jackie Black,” Mart Bakr offered. As usual, he was sitting on the edge of his chair, eyes riveted on the girl to the point that should have caused acute embarrassment.

  She went on, “Yes, this Jackie Black—that’s a silly name, isn’t it? Does he deserve the name, Robin Hood?”

  Doc Thorndon shrugged, wrinkling up his cheerful face. “I suppose you’d say he does. Probably the principal reason he’s eluded the authorities for so long. He has had considerable support from the rank and file citizens.”

  Johnny Norsen said, “Well, what is it that he got this time? They’ve got half the police of three planets on his trail and as far as I can understand, all he stole were some papers.”

  Dick Roland said, “I heard some rumors, just before we left Terra, that the papers were inside dope on a bunch of the bureaucrats—really incriminating. The story is that Jackie Black figures on blackmailing them.”

  Doc Thorndon grunted. “Doesn’t sound like the sort of thing he’d do. Blackmail is a pretty nasty business.”

  Mart Bakr said, “Well, let’s get on with this news wire. Maybe they’ve caught him by now.”

  * * * *

  She was on her way to the crew’s mess, but Dick Roland found time to slip a note into her hand, flushing furiously as he did. She winked, infinitesimally, but hurried her way past him.

  His heart thumped over twice, then curled up in its corner and glowed heat. Did that wink mean…?

  Kathy entered the crew’s mess and smiled at the assembled men who were off duty.

  “All right,” she said cheerfully, “it’s your day—or night, whatever it is—who can tell on a space ship? What shall we do this time, boys? Do you want to draw lots to see who plays cards with me?”

  One of the spacemen growled, “I don’t see why the officers get your company the same amount of time we do. There’s five of them and forty of us. It ain’t fair.”

  She looked at him in mock reproach. “Why don’t you get up a petition?”

  Woodford muttered, “On a space cruiser, on a mission? They’d string us up by the thumbs.”

  Kathy tossed her head and laughed at him. “You see. You don’t really care. My company isn’t nearly as important to you as you’d make believe.”

  Jak Heming scrambled to his feet and faced the rest. “She’s right! Why don’t we? Why should forty of us have to share her time equally with only five? It’s not as though this was an ordinary situation. How often do you have women aboard a space ship? I say, let’s all sign a petition. We should have Kathy’s company six days out of the week,
they, only once.”

  “Boys, boys,” she laughed.

  But they continued to mutter among themselves and the sounds of their voices went higher.

  * * * *

  There was an almost inaudible knock at the door.

  “Who’s there?” Kathy called. “It’s me.”

  There was silence for a moment, then, “Just a moment—me.” By the time she opened the door, he was glancing fearfully up and down the corridor. He slipped in.

  “Why, Johnny.”

  “Darling!” He reached for her but she avoided him as adroitly as possible in the tiny quarters.

  “Why, Johnny Norsen. You know you’re not allowed in here. What would Commander Gurloff say? Besides, I thought you were the one who was so sorry to see me on board.”

  He was hurried, but emphatic. “Look, darling, Kathy. I didn’t know then. I…”

  Her eyes were mocking.

  He held out a hand. “This ring. It was my mother’s…I…I want you to wear it.” His angular face was very intent and very sincere.

  Her eyes widened now. “Why, Johnny—”

  “Listen, sweetheart. I know these aren’t the circumstances. That nothing could…well, develop here in the ship. But when we return, when we’re back on Terra again, I’m going to give up the space service and we can—” She interrupted him with a finger on his lips. Her eyes were on the floor now so that he couldn’t see the glint of amusement, but she said softly, “I’ll…I’ll keep the ring, Johnny. We can talk about it when…when we’re back again. No, you’d better go.” She avoided his arms again. “Everybody would be angry if they knew you’d been in here.”

  After he’d gone, she put the ring in a small drawer—with a dozen others.

  * * * *

  The sick call was almost daily growing in magnitude and Doc Thorndon didn’t like it. Not a bit. The cruise still had half way to go. He was amazed that they’d hung on this far, actually, but six months was still too long a period to stretch before them.

  He applied various tests to the last of his callers and then flicked a stylus against his teeth in irritation as he considered the findings.

  Rosen said, worriedly, “What is it Doc? Not…not cafard, is it, Doc?”

  Thorndon looked down at him and laughed gently. “Ever had even a touch of cafard, Rosen?

  “Well, no sir. But I saw a man with it once.” Rosen’s eyes went nervously about the ship’s hospital. The room was about the size of a bedroom of a Pullman of the 20th Century. It had two bunks, one above the other, a tiny folding table, a medicine chest built into the titanium alloy wall, a lavatory.

  Doc Thorndon chuckled. “Don’t worry. You’ll know it when you get space cafard.”

  Rosen shuddered. “Yes, sir, I know. The fear of black space. The terror of free fall. Complete, berserk hysteria.” The little crewman’s eyes went empty.

  Doc patted him on the shoulder. “Forget about it, Rosen. Haven’t you heard? There hasn’t been a case of cafard on this ship since I’ve been ship’s doctr.” His face tightened subtly. “By the way, what’s this I hear about some of you crew members tapping the tract-torpedoes for alcohol and brewing up some jungle juice?”

  The crewman was surprised. He hadn’t heard about it. But he came to his feet and began shruging back into his coveralls. He said, warily, “Where’d you hear this, Doc?”

  Thorndon laughed cheerfully. “Never mind, and don’t worry about it, Rosen. In fact, it wouldn’t hurt you to try a little of it. Get your mind off your worries.”

  Rosen looked at him, shocked. Nothing was more taboo in space than drinking.

  “Get on with you,” Doc laughed and shooed him from the room.

  After the other was gone, the doctr sank down to the side of the bunk and emptied his lungs in a sigh which touched on despair. Six more months to go.

  Kathy put her head in the door and said, “Doctr Thorndon?”

  He looked up. “Come on in, Kathy. I’m through for the day and I have some suggestions for you.”

  She entered and closed the door behind her. She leaned back against it and looked at him thoughtfully, and once again he reminded himself that she wasn’t attractive—really. It was her aggressive personality, that and her obvious femininity. You seldom saw mammary glands like…He pulled his mind away from that trend of thought. Doc was masculine too, and not that old.

  “Well, Kathy?” he said wearily.

  She said, “I think I’ve finally figured out just what you’re doing.”

  “You have? Well, I’m not surprised. You’re not a very stupid person, Kathy.” He didn’t look up as he talked. “How many of them have proposed to you this week?”

  “Four. Lieutenant Roland, and three more of the crew members.”

  He snorted, amusedly. “I’ll wager you’ll have hooked two thirds of them before the cruise is over.” The amusement left him. “If it’s ever over.”

  She said, very softly, “It’s even more than usually important that the ship get back, isn’t it?”

  He looked up at her, without speaking.

  She said, “I’ve been picking up odds and ends, here and there. I don’t know too much about politics, but from what the crew says, and the officers too, for that matter, Commander Mike Gurloff is pretty big potatoes in reform politics back on Terra.”

  Doc rubbed the end of his nose with a thoughtful forefinger and wondered just how much to tell her.

  She said, “It’s pretty important that he get back, isn’t it?”

  Doc Thorndon said slowly, “More than just get back, Kathy. He’s got to return with his reputation as strong as ever. He’s got to be able to throw into their faces just what tricks the present administration has been pulling on him.”

  She sank into the one chair the room boasted. “Are we going to make it?”

  Doc pursed his lips. Finally he said, “The odds arc against it, Kathy.”

  They sat silently for awhile.

  Doc took a deep breath. “By the way, Kathy, I just had Rosen in here, you know, the signalman. He’s in the first stages of cafard. He doesn’t know it yet, but he is.”

  Air hissed through her teeth.

  He nodded, seriously. “We’ve got to snap him out of it, but quick. One bad case, and it’d spread through this ship like wildfire. Now this is what you’ll have to do…

  She listened very carefully and nodded. The two of them looked like a pair of conspirators, leaning toward each other, their faces very serious.

  * * * *

  Commander Gurloff looked up and down the corridor, spotted no one and slipped into the ship’s hospital. He closed the door and turned to Doc Thorndon who was lying on the bottom bunk reading.

  Doc looked up from his book and said, “Hello, Mike. Have a seat,”

  Mike Gurloff scowled at him, but lowered himself into the indicated chair.

  He said, “Doc, what the kert are you trying to do with my ship and crew? The whole command is falling apart.”

  Doc Thornton put a finger in his place. “Oh?” he said.

  “Yeah, oh. Don’t act so innocent.” Gurloff hesitated, then went into the matter that bothered him in some detail. “Doc,” he said, “You’ve always had a lot of leeway on the New Taos. Of course, it’s not just the New Taos, any ship’s doctr on any space craft on a long cruise has lots of leeway—as much as he needs to fight off the threat of space cafard. Maybe you’ve had a bit more than most, but maybe that’s because you’ve accomplished more than most.”

  The doctr reminded him softly, “We haven’t had a serious case of cafard since I’ve been aboard, Mike.”

  In an earlier age, Commander Gurloff would have knocked on wood. Now he shuddered. “All right,” he said, “I’ll take that. But this time, Doc, I’m afraid you’re going too far. What’s this about stun gun fights between crew members down in the tract-torpedo room? What’s this about gambling going on, more or less openly, and the crew being on the verge of mutiny because of Kathy? What’s this about Mar
t Bakr and Dick Roland starting a fist fight in the wardroom the other day? And Rosen going on duty soused to the eyeballs?” His voice became more incisive. “Discipline aboard this ship is falling apart, Doc. And, to my surprise, I seem to find your fine meddlesome finger in every case I note that’s adding to this collapse.”

  The doctr nodded, “That’s right,” he said agreeably.

  “That’s right?” Gurloff blurted. “What do you mean? I come in here expecting you to have some explanations of your actions and here you merely say it’s true, that everything I’ve accused you of is true.”

  “It is,” the Doctr said mildly.

  “That you’re inciting the crew to mutiny, that you’re encouraging fighting and drink, that—”

  “Yes,” the Doctr said.

  Gurloff blinked at him. Stared for a moment. Then came to his feet. He stood, looking down at the other, the back of his hands on his hips. He was incredulous.

  He snapped, “Doctr, you realize that a crew without discipline is incapable of running a ship?”

  “Let us say that it’s incapable of running a. ship indefinitely.”

  “And you say that you’re deliberately encouraging a collapse of half the rules in the service?”

  Doc sat up, putting his feet on the deck. He said, very seriously, “Mike, how long have we been out thus far?”

  The other scowled. “Somewhat over six months.”

  “How many cases of space cafard, so far?”

  The answer was a growled “None.”

  “Without books, without games, without any entertainment, for all practical purposes, we’re through half of this cruise without one case of mental collapse, and that in spite of the fact that the crew had less than two weeks rest after the last trip.”

  Mike Gurloff leaned back against the bulkhead and scowled at him. “You mean you’re preventing cafard by—”

  Doc Thorndon leveled a finger at his skipper. “I’m preventing the complete collapse of this crew by every method I can devise. I can tell you right now, if we ever get back to Terra, this crew as a unit, will probably never be fit to take a ship out again. It was you, Mike, who said we had to make the cruise; you said that if you could make it you’d be in a position to upset the corrupt bunch of bureaucrats that are running the space service now.