by Ron Hubbard
"What?" said Crup. "Where?"
"There! There!" cried Heller, pointing and diving us down toward a landing.
"Oh, no!" said Commander Crup. "Jettero! As I love you, boy, you don't want that!" I finally credited that what they were looking at was what they were looking at.
It was a pygmy amongst these monsters. It was the ugliest, dustiest thing I ever hope to see. It was standing on its tail. It looked like a headless old woman with two arms outstretched, her black dress reaching the ground. It was only about a hundred and ten feet tall. It was fat beyond belief. All around it were graceful, swept-curve cruisers and patrol craft, any one of them preferable to this horrible looking little blob.
Heller was out and literally stroking its side in ecstasy. "Oh, you darling," he was saying. "Oh, you wonderful beauty!" Then he was eagerly beaconing to Crup to bring the keyplates to open the entry lock.
Crup was shaking his head sadly.
I arrived by Heller and looked up at this mess. "What is it?" I said.
"Oh, don't you see?" said Heller. "It's Tug One!It was the Flagship of the Tug Section!" He was vibrating like a kid that has just gotten his most heartfelt birthday present. He must have read my face correctly. "Soltan, it's all engines! It's nothing but engines! Like any tug, it has the engines of the biggest battleship in space. It's the fastest thing in this universe!" Oh, here we go, I thought. Speed. I've got your fracture now, race champion Heller. It's speed.
He still thought I didn't understand. "You know those motor locomotives on the highways, the kind that pulls half a dozen trailers after them? Well, if you detached the motor locomotive and ran it with no trailers, it would be the fastest vehicle they've got. Well, it's the same way with a tug! It's just battleship engines with a skin around them. Fast! Open the spacelock, Commander! Let him see!"
"I think there's a watchman in this sector that you know, Jet," said Crup. He took out a little board and pressed some buttons, giving our sector location. And then he got a ladder and clambered way up to open the door.
Dust! Dust and darkness. But Heller was up that tall ladder and into her in a flash, dragging me along. First he went down. I dimly perceived a large stateroom and lots of knobs and rails: they were all black-crusted, horrible looking. There were several cabins. We climbed upward on the crisscross ladders that work when the vessel is vertical or horizontal. Dust! We got to a flight deck that was crammed with controls, all coated with filth.
Heller had finally gotten out a light; there was apparently no current in the ship. He opened a door and we entered a small engine room crammed with ordinary drives. "These are her auxiliaries. You use them for atmosphere maneuvering and speeds less than light." He was checking boxes and panels rapidly. "They seem to be set up all right." We dropped down and he opened a door into a second engine compartment and as he flashed his light around, I found myself looking at the most monstrous engines I have ever seen. Actually, I had never connected with anything like them. They certainly were battleship-sized drives but other than that, I couldn't classify them.
Heller seemed happier and happier. He swarmed down a catwalk and opened a door at the back of the main engine room. I was looking at very strange, huge metal drums.
"These are her tractor beam generators!" he said. "They are some of the most powerful ever built! These are what she fastens onto things with and pulls." We went out a side door. He shined his light again into the large cabin. Aside from everything being black-stained I couldn't see much. What a dirty ship!
We went back outside. An old, old spacer was just creakily getting off a triwheeler. The watchman Crup had called. He saw Jet drop off the tall entrance ladder and peered carefully. Then he said, "Oh, my Gods!" He and Heller flew together and pounded each other. "Atty!" Jet was saying.
Finally, the old man – he must have been a hundred and seventy if he was a day – drew back. He wiped a tear from his eye with the back of his hand. "Oh, Jet, lad. It's good to know you're still alive!" Jet introduced me and the old fellow said, "I was Jet's engine repair chief when he made the record run at the Academy." Crup said, "Jet's thinking of taking out Tug One."Old Atty went rigid. "Jettero Heller, you know as well as I do why she's a-lying here to rot."
"I know I used her sister ship with success. And she did just fine!" said Heller defensively.
"Ah, yes. The speed," said old Atty sadly. "Jet, you know why Tug Oneis lying here?"
"She couldn't have been here more than three years," said Heller.
"Two," said Crup.
"I was aboard her three and a half years ago. Right after Admiral Wince fixed her up as his flagship."
"Oh, yes," said Crup. "He fixed her up all right." He glanced at a sheet he was holding, "He spent two million credits on a special refit. I recall he said that every other flotilla admiral had a fancy flagship and he didn't see why he shouldn't. Of course, he never used her much. He wouldn't listen any more than you're listening now." My hair was beginning to rise a bit on the back of my neck. Heller had a stubborn look on his face. What was he letting us in for? "What's the matter with this ship?" I blurted out.
Crup said, "She's dangerous!" Atty turned to me. "She doesn't have the usual warp drives. She is equipped with Will-be Was main drives." I thought it was some maker's name.
"Timedrives," said Crup. "The type designed for intergalactic travel where distances are truly enormous and they have to work directly with time. When you run these engines inside a galaxy without a heavy load behind them, they pick up more energy than can be wasted. They work all right in a battleship with all its auxiliaries to burn the excess energy but not in a tug. And Jet knows it." I'm no expert on drives. Somebody would have to explain this to me someday. The only thing I got out of it was that this (bleeped) tug had engines that were dangerous!
But it was Atty that caved me in. "When old Admiral Wince was told Tug One'ssister ship had blown up with all hands lost while running flat-out with no tow, he instantly ordered this ship straight to Emergency Fleet Reserve and she's been here ever since."
"That settles it," I said. "No Tug One!"
"Good," said Heller. "Make out the papers."
Chapter 4
I frantically tried to think of some way to stop this madman. But my wits just didn't seem to work! His direct counter to my decision had robbed me of my usual smooth ability to exert my will. The contradiction had been done so coolly and his cancellation of my authority seemed so final that I felt just like he had pulled a gun and shot me.
I could muster no real arguments. So I simply drew in my breath and prepared to shout "NO!" He must have heard the breath intake. Before the word I was forming could come out, he said, "Soltan, you know and I know that we must not put secrets of the Apparatus before unauthorized personnel." It was a stripped, naked, totally unclothed threat. We were on Fleet territory. He was amongst friends. With a shock I realized he knew one tightly guarded Apparatus secret – the existence of Spiteos. He undoubtedly knew nothing else but that was enough! Something inside me seemed to break. I really hadlost control. But just for now, Heller, I said to myself, just for now; when we're back in Apparatus territory, and certainly when I get you off this planet, watch out; you're going to pay for this!
I closed my mouth.
Seemingly oblivious of this byplay, Commander Crup and Atty were muttering together in a kind of huddle.
Commander Crup looked at Heller sadly. "Jet, I'm too fond of you to let you have this ship." My hopes soared!
"Jet, my boy," continued the old commander, tapping the Grand Council order, "you know and we know that you'll not be pulling any heavy loads: you'll be running any ship you get as just a mission ship. You certainly won't be going to some other galaxy. You'll be working in this one. And Tug Onewill develop more energy than you can use or waste and boom!,there you'll go just like Tug Twodid. So don't waste any time in pleading. We know you." Heller smiled a disarming smile, "And what would you say if I told you I had invented a way to bleed off the excess ene
rgy?" My hopes fell.
"You mean," said Crup, "that you'd undertake to remodel the vessel before you left?"
"I would certainly promise to remodel it," said Heller.
Wait, wait, wait, I cried silently. This would take time!
Crup looked at old Atty. Then they both shrugged.
"But there is another hitch," said Crup.
My hopes rocketed up.
"Ordinarily," the commander continued, but this time looking at me, "if Jet wanted this ship he could simply sign for it and fly it away. In this case, he can't." I was eager to hear his next words.
"For some reason or other," said Crup, tapping the Grand Council orders, "the directive that the mission be undertaken assigns it to the Exterior Division. I can't imagine how the Exterior Division also got a Fleet man. ..."
"They probably didn't have nobody who knew how to run a spaceship," sneered old Atty. "Certainly nobody like Jet."
"... but in any event," continued Crup, "I cannot transfer a unit of the Emergency Fleet Reserve to the Exterior Division, much less its 'drunks.' Their Lordships in the Fleet would have my head." Relief! I had been rescued!
"However . . ." said Crup, getting some papers out of his case.
My hopes faltered.
He found what he was looking for. ". . . we quite routinely sell supernumerary spaceships to commercial companies engaging in peaceful interplanetary traffic. We simply strip out their guns and sensitive equipment and transfer ownership. Any transaction that can be done with commercial companies can be done with the Exterior Division. Tug Onehas no guns or sensitive battle equipment so . . ." He had a list. "The price of constructing Tug Onewas four million credits . . . the refit done on her by Admiral Wince was about two million credits . . . that's six million in round figures." My hopes rose. We only had an allocation of three million total. Six was way, way out of our price range.
Crup was pulling a finger down a column of figures. "But, of course, a resale figure wouldn't be that high." I held my breath. Please, please and please now give a figure in excess of three million.
"Ah," said Crup. "Here's a note about Tug One:Due to the Fleet having in excess of two thousand service tugs of the normal type, and if any purchaser will undertake upon the sales papers not to hold the Fleet responsible if this vessel blows up, the resale price is hereby fixed at a half a million credits.
My hopes crashed with a loss of all hands. "Perfectly agreeable," said Heller. "You sure you will remodel?" said Crup. "Absolutely," said Heller.
"Good," said Crup and he began to scribble and copy numbers and add conditions to a fatal paper that would transfer Tug Onefrom the Fleet to the Exterior Division. But just before he asked for my identoplate he spoke again. "I don't think you can take it today. You don't have any engineer for her." There was not even a flicker of life in the dead ashes of my hopes.
And sure enough, old Atty said, "But he'll just need somebody to run the auxiliaries. They're simple! If you'll give me the rest of the day off, Commander, I'm his man!" He cackled. "Just so long as he don't ask me to turn on the Will-be Was main engines and just sticks to the planetary drives, I'll chief engineer for him! Today only." I am extremely well trained at hiding my feelings. I was certain that I had permitted no slightest trace of my reactions to show on my face. So I could not account for the possible malice in old Atty's voice as he turned to me and said, "I got a wife, kids, grandchildren and greatgrandchildren but I'm a lot too young to die at the throttles of time drives!" An idiot remark. It seemed to amuse him out of all proportion. He went tearing off to steal some spare fuel rods from a nearby ship.
Crup had to joggle me twice. He was holding out the completed documents.
With a feeling I was putting my own seal on my own death warrant, I pushed my identoplate against the paper.
Tug Onehad just become the mission ship for Mission Earth! And there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing. Not right here anyway.
Chapter 5
Heller was over by my airbus. My driver appeared to have breakfasted well on supplies in back. He was looking at Heller with a keen eagerness while the combat engineer gave him some very exact instructions. What was Heller telling him? Apparently there was something not entirely clear for Heller whipped out a notebook and wrote something very rapidly on it, tore out the sheet and handed it over. I was about to interrupt what might be a violation of security but before I reached them, Heller handed him some money. My driver, without even asking permission from me, took off. Oh, well. I'd grill him later.
The Commander had gotten on the old watchman's triwheeler. Heller went over and they shook hands and I heard the tail end of Crup's farewell. ". . . if you know what you're doing. Remember you promised to fix her up. Well, if I never see you again, good luck anyway." I shuddered. Crup backed the triwheeler to a safe distance and sat there to watch our departure.
Heller sort of hazed me into the ship the way they do animals that have gotten out of the pasture. He got me up the ladders and into the flight deck. There was still only his own beamlight and the dust motes made it look like muddy water. I could hear old Atty banging and swearing in the auxiliary engine room just below us. He seemed to be having a lot of trouble and must be using a sledgehammer to fix it.
There were two gravity flight chairs; Heller pressed me gently down into one of them. The dust clouds absolutely geysered. "Now this is the star navigator's seat you're in and we won't be going to any stars just yet. I'll be sitting right over there in the local maneuvering seat. We don't have time to unseal the ports and all the view-screens are around the other seat, but don't worry just because you can't see anything." He was buckling clasp-straps around me. The dust was horrible. I began to cough and tried to sit up to cough better but he just shoved me back. "Now this is a tug," he said when he had finished. "A tug is the quickest maneuvering ship ever built. Don't lift your head out of those pads or you could snap your neck. A tug can move sideways, up, down, back and forward in the flash of an eye. They have to be able to, so as to position themselves around battleships. So don'tlift your head! Even on auxiliary drives, these things can be deadly fast. Understand?" All I understood was that I was choking to death on dust.
If he was so careful to tuck me in, how come he simply went over and perched on the edge of the local maneuvering chair?
The banging still went on in the nearest engine room. Then old Atty yelled, "You got power there yet?" Heller took his finger and ran it along a huge line of switches like a musician makes a run up the keyboard of an instrument. "Everything on. No lights!" More swearing from the engine room. Then, "(Bleep) it, Jet, we'll just have to run her on emergency lighting!" A feeble glow came on. The dust flying around made it look like green soup.
"I got the (bleeped) rods in," shouted Atty. Two more huge bangs. "I think the throttles will move now.
Let me get strapped down here where I can reach 'em." A long spell of coughing: must be dusty down there, too!
Jet said, "Let me see. Been three years since I touched a tug's controls." He was perched on the edge of the chair looking at what must be two thousand switches. He yelled, "You all set, Atty?"
"Set as I'll ever be."
"Give me power and local control." There was a shudder throughout the tug as Atty engaged the engines.
Heller looked thoughtfully over the array. "Hey, the viewscreens came on. What do you know." He hit a switch.
My hair rose. The inference was that he had been about to fly this blind!
But for all my fears, Tug Onerose smoothly into the sky. I felt Heller fumbling at my tunic pocket. He was fishing out my identoplate. He cleared us for the Apparatus base and transmitted my identoplate and I felt him putting it back in my pocket.
I should have known he was up to something else but at the time, frankly, I was too scared of this tug and too choked with dust. Later I would realize that all he had to do at this moment was to fly to a Fleet base, turn me in and expose the whole Apparatus. But it wasn't until mu
ch later in that day that I found out he had his own personal plans.
The tug's communication system worked and he had a mild argument with the Apparatus base concerning the readiness of a trundle dolly to land on. Once more he had out my identoplate and he got his way.
We got there so quickly that he had to skyhang a couple minutes until they had the trundle dolly in position. Then I felt us plummeting down. We must have been quite high. It made me feel queasy. It sent dust up in clouds! I began to choke. And then I thought, oh, wait until I get you on the ground in Apparatus territory: you'll certainly hear about this day's work, Jettero Heller. And I had no more than thought that than I became painfully sick at my stomach. I wasn't throwing up but almost.
We were down!
Heller unbuckled me. He swung down the ladder and out. I followed him slowly and painfully. I emerged into the midmorning sunlight. We were at the Apparatus base all right. There loomed Tug Oneon the trundle dolly in all its awful ugliness.
Heller had the ear of the landing master and the signal sticks began to wag. The trundle dolly rolled ponderously back through the door of the hangar, going under cover. Tug One'sweight was so great it made the dolly sag.
I was still coughing and wheezing and trying not to actually vomit. I didn't follow closely what was going on for a while. I just leaned up against the window of the inside hangar office and tried to get myself back together. If this was a sample of Tug Onetravel, I wondered sadly how we would ever get to Earth – with me still alive, that is!
But Heller was all bounce. You would have thought he had just been presented with a feudal dukedom. He got the trundle dolly under the crane and then got the crane master to engage his hook just right into the big steel loops on Tug One'sback and with Heller's careful supervision, lifted the ship into the air. What a strong crane!
They got the trundle dolly out from under it and Heller showed them where to put some steadying chocks to make a cradle. And then with a swoop the crane laid Tug Oneon its belly into the chocks. She was now in normal flight position, horizontal, a common enough practice. The crane disengaged.
