all mydirections on that--got it?"
"Aye, sir."
"Good, Marsden, throttle back and hang on your converters."
I did as I was told.
"Ah--there she is--bear left a little. Hmm--she's looking for us--lookssuspicious. Now she's turning toward 'Amphitrite.' Guess she figures weare gone. She's in position preparing to fire. _Now!_ Drop out andfire--elevation zero, azimuth three sixty--_Move!_"
I moved. The "Lachesis" dropped like a stone. Chase was dead now.Nothing made of flesh could survive that punishment but we--we came outright on top of them, just like Chase had done to the other--except thatwe fired before we collided. And as with the other Rebel we gainedcomplete surprise. Our eighteen torpedoes crashed home, her magazinesexploded, and into that hell of molten and vaporized metal that had oncebeen a Rebel scout we crashed a split second later. Two thousand milesper second relative is too fast for even an explosion to hurt much ifthere isn't any solid material in the way, and we passed through onlythe outer edges of the blast, but even so, the vaporized metal scouredour starboard plating down to the insulation. It was like a giant emerywheel had passed across our flank. The shock slammed us out of controland we went tumbling in crazy gyrations across space for several minutesbefore I could flip the "Lachesis" into Cth, check the speed and motion,and get back into threespace.
* * * * *
Chase was gone--and "Lachesis" was done. A week in drydock and she'd beas good as new, but she was no longer a fighting ship. She was a wreck.For us the battle was over--but somehow it didn't make me happy. The"Amphitrite" hung off our port bow, a tiny silver dot in the distance,and as I watched two more silver dots winked into being beside her.Haskins reported the I.F.F. readings.
"They're ours," he said. "A couple of cruisers."
"They should have been here ten minutes ago," I replied bitterly. Icouldn't see very well. You can't when emotion clogs your tubes.Chase--coward?--not him. He was man clear through--a better one than I'dever be even if I lived out my two hundred years. I wondered if the crewknew what sort of man their skipper was. I turned up the command helmet."Men--" I began, but I didn't finish.
"We know," the blended thoughts and voices came back at me. Sure theyknew! Chase had been on command circuit too. It was enough to make youcry--the mixture of pride, sadness and shame that rang through thehelmet. It seemed to echo and reecho for a long time before I shut itoff.
I sat there, thinking. I wasn't mad at the Rebels. I wasn't anything.All I could think was that we were paying a pretty grim price forsurvival. Those aliens had better show up pretty soon--and they'd betterbe as nasty as their reputation. There was a score--a big score--and Iwanted to be there when it was added up and settled.
THE END
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Amazing Stories_ December 1960. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
A Question of Courage Page 4
