Even Korsakov lifted his head from thetable, and looked around with bleary, bloodshot eyes. "Poison?" he said.Then, as if the effort of thinking was too much, he lay down again andmuttered. "Once in three times. It's a puzzle question, men. Figure itout."
"Of course, entirely aside from the present argument," Spender stated inhis cold, emotionless voice, staring into his empty glass, "but I doseem to recall an incident like that. Seems there was a ship just aboutlike ours. About three months ago. A mechanic told me about it. Seemsthey got a new CO assigned to it who was obviously a sickman, just likeus. Somebody managed to sneak a few of the dormant spores lying aroundoutside the dome into him. Then the sickman really was sick."
I licked my lips. "I didn't mean that," I said. "Besides, they couldalways tell if you did anything like that."
"How?" asked Spender.
Harding was listening intently, watching both of us, but he didn't sayanything.
"They can identify the organisms," I pointed out.
"Sure. Easy. But how do they know where he picked them up? They'relaying all around outside the domes here on Mars ever since the firstassault by the aliens twelve years ago. Nobody's had time todecontaminate this whole planet like they did Earth. Easiest thing inthe world for a new officer on Mars to take a little sight-seeingexcursion outside the domes and to be a little careless."
"There would be an epidemic if he brought back a lot of spores," Isuggested. "Besides, it's out of bounds to leave the dome."
Spender shook his head. "You can get around that out-of-bounds businesswithout any trouble," he said. "And there are decontamination chambersin the air locks, which would clean up anything he brought in; so therewould be no epidemic. The exposure would take place outside of thedomes--say if he opened his helmet to smell the perfume of the famoushypnotic marspoppy, or something like that. Then he would be infected,and after that it's non-contagious. All we need is somebody to buddy upto him, and take him out there. Nature and the poppy will do the rest."
"Look," I said angrily, "cut that stuff out, Spender. If you're lookingto me to disable the guy, forget about it. I won't. And I'm telling youright now that if I find anybody else does, I'll report it."
* * * * *
For once Spender laughed. He turned to face me, and his blue eyes weredancing in his scarred, old face. He was laughing at me and mybelligerent righteousness, but the real joke, of course, was that unlesssomebody actually caught him talking Frendon into going out there, therewouldn't be the slightest chance of proving he had done it. It was thesimplest thing in the world to sneak out and back without beingobserved, and we both knew it.
"All right," I said then. "Have your laugh, Spender. And you, too,Harding. I don't like the nut we've got any more than you do, but whatyou're talking about is mutiny and murder--"
"Oh, he wouldn't necessarily die," Harding commented thoughtfully. "Ifhe gets the serum within a few hours of the first symptoms, he probablywould be just a very sick man for about a month. Too long to take theship out with us when we go." He grinned at me. "And as for mutiny,nobody would be using any physical force on him. Nor--when you comeright down to the specific matter of his commanding his ship--wouldthere be any moral force employed either."
"Have it any way you like," I said, standing up. "I don't care for thetone of this discussion, and I'm getting out of it."
Harding laughed again at that. "O.K., Maise," he said in a friendly toneof voice. "Sorry. I guess you're right at that." I stood glaring at him."Come on, sit down," he continued. "I know there isn't anything else foryou to say about it. Being Exec and all, you pretty well have to stickup for him, and we don't hold it against you. And don't worry about usdoing anything to your precious Frendon."
His face darkened as he said it, though, and he swore. "Not right now,anyway. Still, that spore business isn't such a bad--"
"Let it go," Spender cut him off with a mixture of irritation andaffection. "Somebody told me about it, and so I just passed it on. Itisn't as easy as it sounds, because that stuff can kill, and you stand apretty good chance of making a mistake and catching it yourself." Thenhe looked up at me and smiled again. "You might as well stick aroundwith us tonight and get drunk, Maise. No place else to go."
I hesitated. It was a genuine offer of comradeship, and God knows Iwanted it. I had been an outcast among these men too long. So I grinnedback at him and slid down into the booth again, pressing the button foranother drink. "I'll have one more, but then I think I have some work todo. Got to see a man about something."
Korsakov stirred himself. He wasn't as drunk as he seemed, I think. Heraised his head and looked at me carefully for a moment, but then hemumbled, "Once in three times. How do you figure it?"
* * * * *
I left them soon after, located and spoke to Frendon, and then returnedto the ship. The following morning at nine thirty Commander Frendonsuddenly complained of a fever, and said he was going to the hospital.
A couple of hours later, we received notification of his condition fromthe hospital, and at the same time orders from CINCMARS.
Korsakov, eyes still bloodshot from his hangover, took the message outof the scanner and stared at it. Then he wordlessly handed it over tome.
I read it. It said that Commander Frendon had contracted the sporedisease, but that his condition was satisfactory due to the speedytreatment. He would, however, be confined to the hospital for one month.
There was an empty space of three lines, and the orders followed,addressed to Frendon, to prepare to lift off planet in three days andrejoin the Seventh Fleet.
Harding, Spender and Korsakov stared at me with awe when I read them theinformation. Nobody said anything for a full minute.
"All right," I snapped finally. "Kors, ship out a quickie to CINCMARSand notify him that we can't join the fleet, because we don't have acaptain, and the orders are to him, personally, and not the ship.Something has to be changed."
Korsakov thoughtfully pulled on his shaggy, graying eyebrows with histhick fingers. "Why don't we wait until just before lift time," hesuggested. "Then they won't have time to fish us out another sickman,and you'll be the skipper, Maise. What do you think of that?"
"Lousy," I said. "A delay like that when they already must have thatinformation kicking around somewhere might just be the thing to foul upthe deal. This has to be played straight. Besides, I don't think theyare likely to have any unassigned sick--I mean Psi Corps men around onMars. Go chop out that report."
He was reluctant, but he didn't waste any time about it. And almostimmediately the reply came back ordering me to report to the Base MoraleOfficer and account for Frendon's sudden illness, or accident, orwhatever it was. In the old days, that might not have meant so much; butnow, of course, the Morale Officer is the whole works.
"Well," I said then, "looks like the soup is hot. They're suspicious."Nobody said anything. They were all waiting, looking at me. "Who," Icontinued slowly and carefully, "do you suppose slipped Frendon thespore? They'll want to know, maybe."
"Why, Maise," Harding said garrulously, "just like Spender told us. Hewent outside, the dome on a sight-seeing trip and made the mistake oflooking at a marspoppy without an antihypnotic color filter. He justaccidentally happened to expose himself."
"He might not have gone alone," I suggested. "They'll want to know whowent with him, since he probably didn't know anybody else on the Base."
Korsakov grinned hugely. "We all did, skipper," he said. "They can'tcourt-martial the whole crew for going out of bounds with him, can they?It would take a valuable ship out of action."
"They might." I stood up, frowning. "Well, it all depends upon whatFrendon told them, but, of course, he might have been drunk himself atthe time, and a man like him would hesitate to admit something likethat. That shouldn't be too hard to demonstrate. In which case," Iadded, letting them see a grin on my face, "he might have gone byhimself after all, and then none of us would have to be even slightlyimpli
cated. Like for instance, if he spent some time with us drinking,and then went off by himself, how would we know where he was going?"
They all laughed with evident relief. It would be a good story. Theyall knew that none of them had induced Frendon to disable himself, andfor them that settled the question of who did it. Their willingness totake a full share of the blame off me settled the only other question Imyself was concerned about.
And this morning, when CINCMARS