position and--"
"I'm no scientist, Admiral, but wouldn't that put tremendous stress notonly on the ship but on all of us aboard?"
"It would, sir. I won't keep anything from you, of course. We'd all besubjected to a force of twenty-some gravities for a period of severalseconds. Here aboard the _Glory_, we don't have adequate G-equipment.It's something like the old days of air flight, sir: as soon asairplanes became reasonably safe, passenger ships didn't bother to carryparachutes. Result over a period of fifty years: thousands of liveslost. We'd all be bruised and battered, sir. Bones would be broken.There might be a few deaths. But I see no other way out, sir."
"Then there was no need to check with me at all, I assure you, AdmiralStapleton. Do whatever you think is best, sir."
The Admiral nodded gravely. "Thank you, Mr. President. I will say this,though: we will wait for a miracle."
"I'm afraid I don't follow you."
"Well, I don't expect a miracle, but the switchover to subspace sosuddenly is bound to be dangerous. Therefore, we'll wait until the lastpossible moment. It will grow uncomfortably warm, let me warn you, butas long as the subspace drive is in good working order--"
"I see what you mean, Admiral. You have a free hand, sir; let me repeatthat. I will not interfere in any way and I have the utmost confidencein you." The President mopped his brow with an already damphandkerchief. It _was_ growing warm, come to think of it. Uncomfortablywarm.
As if everyone aboard the _Glory of the Galaxy_ was slowly being broiledalive....
* * * * *
Ackerman Boone entered the crew quarters with the same smile still onhis lips. At first he said nothing, but his silence drew the men like amagnet draws iron filings. When they had all clustered about him hespoke.
"The Exec not only chewed my ears off," he boomed. "He all but spit themin my face! I was right, men. He admitted it to me after he saw how hecouldn't get away with anything in front of Ackerman Boone. Men, we'reheading on collision course with the sun!"
A shocked silence greeted his words and Ackerman Boone, instinctively aborn speaker, paused dramatically to allow each man the private horrorof his own thoughts for a few moments. Then he continued: "The Admiralfigures we have one chance to get out of this alive, men. He figures--"
"What is it, Acky?"
"What will he do?"
"How will the Admiral get us out of this?"
Ackerman Boone spat on the polished, gleaming floor of the crewquarters. "He'll never get us out alive, let me tell you. He wants toshift us into subspace at the last possible minute. Suddenly. Likethis--" and Ackerman Boone snapped his fingers.
"There'd be a ship full of broken bones!" someone protested. "We can'tdo a thing like that."
"He'll kill us all!" a very young T/3 cried hysterically.
"Not if I can help it, he won't," shouted Ackerman Boone. "Listen, men.This ain't a question of discipline. It's a question of living or dyingand I tell you that's more important than doing it like the book says ordiscipline or anything like that. We got a chance, all right: but itain't what the Admiral thinks it is. We ought to abandon the _Glory_ toher place in the sun and scram out of here in the lifeboats--every lastperson aboard ship."
"But will they have enough power to get out of the sun's gravitationalpull?" someone asked.
Ackerman Boone shrugged. "Don't look at me," he said mockingly. "I'monly an enlisted man and they don't give enlisted men enough math toanswer questions like that. But reckoning by the seat of my pants Iwould say, yes. Yes, we could get away like that--if we act fast.Because every minute we waste is a minute that brings us closer to thesun and makes it harder to get away in the lifeboats. If we act, men, wegot to act fast."
"You're talking mutiny, Boone," a grizzled old space veteran said. "Youcan count me out."
"What's the matter, McCormick? Yellow?"
"I'm not yellow. I say it takes guts to maintain discipline in a realemergency. I say _you're_ yellow, Boone."
"You better be ready to back that up with your fists, McCormick," Boonesaid savagely.
"I'm ready any time you're ready, you yellow mutinous bastard!"
* * * * *
Ackerman Boone launched himself at the smaller, older man, who stood hisground unflinchingly although he probably knew he would take a soundbeating. But four or five crewmen came between them and held them apart,one saying:
"Look who's talking, Boone. You say time's precious but you're all setto start fighting. Every minute--"
"Every _second_," Boone said grimly, "brings us more than a hundredmiles closer to the sun."
"What can we do, Acky?"
Instead of answer, Ackerman Boone dramatically mopped the sweat from hisface. All the men were uncomfortably warm now. It was obvious that thetemperature within the _Glory of the Galaxy_ had now climbed fifteen ortwenty degrees despite the fact that the refrigs were working at fullcapacity. Even the bulkheads and the metal floor of crew quarters wereunpleasantly warm to the touch. The air was hot and suddenly very dry.
"I'll tell you what we ought to do," Ackerman Boone said finally."Admiral Stapleton or no Admiral Stapleton, President of the GalacticFederation or no President of the Galactic Federation, we ought to takeover this ship and man the life boats for everyone's good. If they don'twant to save their lives and ours--let's us save our lives and theirs!"
Roars of approval greeted Boone's words, but Spacer McCormick and someof the other veterans stood apart from the loud speech-making whichfollowed. Actually, Boone's wild words--which he gambled with after thefirst flush of enthusiasm for his plan--began to lose converts. One byone the men drifted toward McCormick's silent group until, finally,Boone had lost almost his entire audience.
Just then a T/2 rushed into crew quarters and shouted: "Hey, is Boonearound? Has anyone seen Boone?"
This brought general laughter. Under the circumstances, the question wasnot without its humorous aspect.
"What'll you have?" Boone demanded.
"The refrigs, Boone! They are on the blink. Overstrained themselves andburned themselves out. Inside of half an hour this ship's going to be anoven hot enough to kill us all!"
"Half an hour, men!" Ackerman Boone cried. "Now, do we take over theship and man those lifeboats or don't we!"
The roar which followed his words was a decidedly affirmative one.
* * * * *
"These are the figures," Admiral Stapleton said. "You can see, Mr.President, that we have absolutely no chance whatever if we man thelifeboats. We would perish as assuredly as we would if we remained withthe _Glory of the Galaxy_ in normal space."
"Admiral, I have to hand it to you. I don't know how you can think--inall this heat."
"Have to, sir. Otherwise we all die."
"The air temperature--"
"Is a hundred and thirty degrees and rising. We've passed salt tabletsout to everyone, sir, but even then it's only a matter of time beforewe're all prostrated. If you're sure you give your permission, sir--"
"Admiral Stapleton, you are running this ship, not I."
"Very well, sir. I've sent our subspace officer, Lieutenant Ormundy, tothrow in the subspace drive. We should know in a few moments--"
"No crash hammocks or anything?"
"I'm sorry, sir."
"It isn't your fault, Admiral. I was merely pointing out a fact."
The squawk box blared: "Now hear this! Now hear this! T/3 Ackerman Booneto Admiral Stapleton. Are you listening, Admiral?"
Admiral Stapleton's haggard, heat-worn face bore a look of astonishmentas he listened. Ackerman said, "We have Lieutenant Ormundy, Admiral.He's not killing us all by putting us into subspace in minutes when itought to take hours, you understand. We have Ormundy and we have thesubspace room. A contingent of our men is getting the lifeboats ready.We're going to abandon ship, Admiral, all of us, including you and thepoliticians even if we have to drag you aboard the lifeboats atN--gunpoint."
Admiral Stapleton's face went ashen. "Let me at a radio!" he roared. "Iwant to answer that man and see if he understands exactly what mutinyis!"
While Ackerman Boone was talking over the squawk box, the temperaturewithin the _Glory of the Galaxy_ rose to 145 deg. Fahrenheit.
* * * * *
"Fifteen minutes," Larry Grange said. "In fifteen minutes the heat willhave us all