Masters of Space | Page 2

"So do I. I still wish they'd given me Eggy. I've never seen an
executive-type female Ph.D. yet that was worth the cyanide it would
take to poison her."
"That's what Sawtelle thinks of you, too, you know."
"I know; and the Board does know its stuff. So I'm really hoping, Bill,
that she surprises me as much as I intend to surprise the Navy."
* * * * *

Alarm bells clanged as the mighty Perseus blinked out of overdrive.
Every crewman sprang to his post.
"Mister Snowden, why did we emerge without orders from me?"
Captain Sawtelle bellowed, storming into the control room three jumps
behind Hilton.
"The automatics took control, sir," he said, quietly.
"Automatics! I give the orders!"
"In this case, Captain Sawtelle, you don't," Hilton said. Eyes locked and
held. To Sawtelle, this was a new and strange co-commander. "I would
suggest that we discuss this matter in private."
"Very well, sir," Sawtelle said; and in the captain's cabin Hilton opened
up.
"For your information, Captain Sawtelle, I set my inter-space coupling
detectors for any objective I choose. When any one of them reacts, it
trips the kickers and we emerge. During any emergency outside the
Solar System I am in command--with the provision that I must
relinquish command to you in case of armed attack on us."
"Where do you think you found any such stuff as that in the directive?
It isn't there and I know my rights."
"It is, and you don't. Here is a semantic chart of the whole directive. As
you will note, it overrides many Navy regulations. Disobedience of my
orders constitutes mutiny and I can--and will--have you put in irons and
sent back to Terra for court-martial. Now let's go back."
In the control room, Hilton said, "The target has a mass of
approximately five hundred metric tons. There is also a significant
amount of radiation characteristic of uranexite. You will please execute
search, Captain Sawtelle."
And Captain Sawtelle ordered the search.

"What did you do to the big jerk, boss?" Sandra whispered.
"What you and Bill suggested," Hilton whispered back. "Thanks to
your analysis of the directive--pure gobbledygook if there ever was
any--I could. Mighty good job, Sandy."
* * * * *
Ten or fifteen more minutes passed. Then:
"Here's the source of radiation, sir," a searchman reported. "It's a point
source, though, not an object at this range."
"And here's the artifact, sir," Pilot Snowden said. "We're coming up on
it fast. But ... but what's a skyscraper skeleton doing out here in
interstellar space?"
As they closed up, everyone could see that the thing did indeed look
like the metallic skeleton of a great building. It was a huge cube,
measuring well over a hundred yards along each edge. And it was
empty.
"That's one for the book," Sawtelle said.
"And how!" Hilton agreed. "I'll take a boat ... no, suits would be better.
Karns, Yarborough, get Techs Leeds and Miller and suit up."
"You'll need a boat escort," Sawtelle said. "Mr. Ashley, execute escort
Landing Craft One, Two, and Three."
The three landing craft approached that enigmatic lattice-work of
structural steel and stopped. Five grotesquely armored figures wafted
themselves forward on pencils of force. Their leader, whose suit bore
the number "14", reached a mammoth girder and worked his way along
it up to a peculiar-looking bulge. The whole immense structure
vanished, leaving men and boats in empty space.
Sawtelle gasped. "Snowden! Are you holding 'em?"

"No, sir. Faster than light; hyperspace, sir."
"Mr. Ashby, did you have your interspace rigs set?"
"No, sir. I didn't think of it, sir."
"Doctor Cummings, why weren't yours out?"
"I didn't think of such a thing, either--any more than you did," Sandra
said.
Ashby, the Communications Officer, had been working the radio. "No
reply from anyone, sir," he reported.
"Oh, no!" Sandra exclaimed. Then, "But look! They're firing
pistols--especially the one wearing number fourteen--but pistols?"
"Recoil pistols--sixty-threes--for emergency use in case of power
failure," Ashby explained. "That's it ... but I can't see why all their
power went out at once. But Fourteen--that's Hilton--is really doing a
job with that sixty-three. He'll be here in a couple of minutes."
And he was. "Every power unit out there--suits and boats
both--drained," Hilton reported. "Completely drained. Get some help
out there fast!"
* * * * *
In an enormous structure deep below the surface of a far-distant world
a group of technicians clustered together in front of one section of a
two-miles long control board. They were staring at a light that had just
appeared where no light should have been.
"Someone's brain-pan will be burned out for this," one of the group
radiated harshly. "That unit was inactivated long ago and it has not
been reactivated."
"Someone committed an