CHAPTER 14
Charles Brett swaggered into the control room of the electronicsbuilding. Commander Walters, Captain Strong, and Kit Barnard looked upfrom their study of the reports the chief engineer had handed them.
"What are you doing here, Brett?" demanded Walters. "I thought you hadblasted out of here long ago."
"I'm leaving as soon as we sign the contracts for hauling the crystal,Commander," said Brett.
"Contracts!" exploded Strong. "Why, man, do you realize that thissatellite is about to die? If we don't find out what's wrong with thescreens, there won't be any crystal mined here for the next ten years."
Brett shook his head and smiled. "That's all right with me too," hesaid. "The contracts call for either party to satisfy the other shouldeither party fail to fulfill the contractual agreements. In other words,Strong, I get paid for making the trip out to Titan, whether you havecrystal to haul or not."
"Why, you dirty--" snarled Strong.
"Just a moment, Steve," Walters interrupted sharply. "Brett's right. Wehad no way of knowing that this situation would arise, or grow worsethan it was in the beginning. Brett went to a great deal of expense toenter the race and win it. If he insists that the Solar Guard abide bythe contract, there's nothing we can do but pay."
"It won't be too bad, Commander Walters," said Brett. "I have my shiploaded with crystal now, and if you'll just sign the contracts, I candeliver one cargo of crystal to Atom City before Titan is abandoned."
"Wait a minute," cried Strong. "Who gave you the right to load crystalbefore signing the contract?"
"I assumed the right, Captain Strong," replied Brett smoothly. "My shipwon the race, didn't it? Why shouldn't I start work right away?"
"Well, that's beside the point now, anyway," Walters said. "We may needyour ship to take miners and their families to Ganymede or Mars, Brett.Never mind the crystal. One load won't mean very much, anyway."
"No, thank you," growled Brett. "I don't haul any miners in my ship. Thecontracts call for crystal and that's all."
"I'm ordering you to take those people, Brett," said Walters coldly."This is an emergency."
"Order all you want," snapped Brett. "Look at your space code book,section four, paragraph six. My rights are fully protected fromhigh-handed orders issued by men like you who think they're bigger thanthe rest of the people."
Walters flushed angrily. "Get out!" he roared.
"Not till you sign that contract," Brett persisted. "And if I don'tleave with a signed contract in my pocket, I'll have you up before theSolar Alliance Council on charges of fraud. You haven't got a leg tostand on and you know it. Now sign that contract."
Abruptly, Walters turned to an enlisted spaceman and instructed him toget his brief case from the _Polaris_, then deliberately turning hisback on Brett, continued his study of the report. Strong and Kit Barnardwatched Brett with narrowed eyes as the arrogant company owner crossedto the other side of the room and sat down.
"You know something, Steve," said Kit quietly. "Back at the Academy, Ifailed to register a protest about someone dumping impure reactant intomy feeders."
"What about it?" asked Strong.
"I'd like to register that protest now."
"Now?" Steve looked at him, a frown on his face. "Why now?"
"For one thing, Brett couldn't blast off until there was aninvestigation."
"You might have something there, Kit," replied Strong with a smile."_And_ since Brett won the race under such--er--mysteriouscircumstances, I'd suggest an investigation of the black ship as well,eh?"
Kit grinned. "Shall I make that a formal request?"
"Right now, if you like."
Kit turned to face Commander Walters. "Commander," he announced, "Iwould like to register a formal protest with regard to the race."
Walters glanced up. "Race?" he growled. "What the devil are you talkingabout, Kit?"
"Captain Barnard seems to think that Mr. Brett's ship might have usedequipment that was not standard, sir," Strong explained. "In addition,his own ship was sabotaged during the time trials."
Walters looked at Strong and then at Kit Barnard, unable to understand."What's happened to you two? Bringing up a thing like that at this time.Have you lost your senses?"
"No, sir," replied Kit. "But I believe that if a formal investigationwas started, the Solar Guard would be within its legal rights to delaysigning the contracts until such investigation was completed."
Walters grinned broadly. "Of course! Of course!"
Brett jumped up and stormed across the room. "You can't get away withthis, Walters!" he shouted. "I won this race fairly and squarely. Youhave to sign that contract."
"Mr. Brett," said Walters coldly, "under the circumstances, I don't haveto do a space-blasted thing." He turned to Kit. "Is this a formalrequest for an investigation, Kit?" He was smiling.
"It is, sir."
"Very well," said Walters, turning to Brett. "Mr. Brett, in the presenceof two witnesses, I refuse to sign the contracts as a result of seriouscharges brought against you by one of the participating entrants. Youwill be notified of the time and place of the hearing on these charges."
Brett's face turned livid. "You can't do this to me!"
Walters turned to one of the enlisted guardsmen. "Escort Mr. Brett fromthe room," he ordered.
A tall, husky spaceman unlimbered his paralo-ray rifle and nudged Brettfrom the room. "I'll get even with you, Walters, if it's the last thingI do," he screamed.
"You make another threat like that to a Solar Guard officer," growledthe enlisted spaceman, "and it'll be the _last_ thing you do."
As the door closed, Walters, Strong, and Kit laughed out loud. A fewseconds later, as the three men returned to their study of the report,there was a distant rumble, followed quickly by the shock wave of atremendous explosion. Walters, Strong, and Kit and everyone in the roomwere thrown to the floor violently.
"By the craters of Luna," yelled Strong, "what was that?"
"One of the smaller screens has given way, sir!" yelled the chiefelectronic engineer after a quick glance at the giant control board."Number seven."
Walters struggled to his feet. "Where is it?" he demanded.
Strong and Kit got to their feet and crowded around the commander as theengineer pointed out the section on the huge map hanging on the wall.
"Here it is, sir," he said. "Sector twelve."
"Has that area been evacuated yet?" asked Strong.
"I don't know, sir," replied the engineer. "Captain Howard was in chargeof all evacuation operations."
Walters spun around. "Get Howard, Steve. Find out if that part of thecity has been cleared," he ordered and then turned to Kit. "You, Kit,take the Space Marines and round up every spare oxygen mask you can findand get it over to that section right away. I'll meet you here"--heplaced his finger on the map--"with every jet car I can find. No tellinghow many people are still there and we have to get them out."
Almost immediately the wailing of emergency sirens could be heardspreading the alarm over the city. At the spaceport, where the citizenswere waiting to be taken off the satellite, small groups began to chargetoward the loading ships in a frenzy of fear. Since Titan had beencolonized, there had never been a single occasion where the sirens hadwarned of the failure of the screens. There had been many tests,especially for the school-age children and the miners working far belowthe surface of the satellite, but this was the first time the sirenshowled a real warning of danger and death.
Strong raced back to the control tower of the spaceport in a jet car andburst into the room where the captain was still asleep on the couch.Strong shook him violently.
"Wake up, Joe!" he cried. "Come on. Wake up."
"Uh--ahhh? What's the--?" Howard sat up and blinked his eyes. "Steve,what's going on?"
"The screen at sector twelve has collapsed. How many people are still inthere?"
"Collapsed! Sector twelve?" Howard, still groggy with sleep, dumblyrepeated what Strong had said.
Strong drew back his hand and slapped him across the face. "Come out ofit, Joe!" he barked.
Howard reeled back and then sat up, fully awake.
"What--what did you say?" he stammered.
"Sector twelve has gone," Strong repeated. "How many people are leftthere?"
"We haven't even begun operations there yet," Howard replied grimly."How long have I been asleep?"
"A couple of hours."
"Then there's still time."
"What do you mean?"
"Just before I folded, I ordered the evacuation crews to start workingon sector eleven. They should be finished now and just about starting ontwelve. If they have, we have a good chance of saving everyone."
"Let's go."
The two men raced out of the control tower to the jet car and roaredthrough the desolate streets of the city. All around them commandeeredjet cars raced toward the critical area. Commander Walters stood in themiddle of an intersection on the main road to sector twelve, waving hisarms and shouting orders to the enlisted guardsmen and volunteer minersthat had raced back into the city to help. On the sidewalk, enlistedguardsmen handed out extra oxygen masks to the men who would search thearea for anyone who might not have gotten out before the screenexploded. The main evacuation force that had been under Howard'ssupervision had already moved in but there was still a large area tocover.
"We'll split up into six sections!" roared Walters, standing on top of ajet car. "Go down every street and alley, and make a house-to-housesearch. Cover every square inch of the sector. If we lose one life, wewill have failed. Move out!"
With Strong, Kit, Howard, Walters, and other officers of the Solar Guardin the lead, the grim lines of men separated into smaller groups andstarted their march through the deserted city. The swirling gas alreadywas down to within a hundred feet of the street level. When it droppedto the surface, each man knew there would be little hope for anyoneremaining alive without oxygen masks.
Every room of every house and building was searched, as over all, thedeadly swirling gas dropped lower and lower and the pressure of theoxygen was dissipated.
Once, Strong broke open the door to a cheap rooming house and racedthrough it searching each room. He found no one, but something made himgo back through the first-floor rooms again. Under a bed in a room atthe end of the hall he found a young boy huddled with his dog, wide-eyedwith fear. Such incidents were repeated over and over as the searcherscame upon sleeping miners, sick mothers and children, elderly couplesthat were unable to move. Each time they were taken outside to a jet carwhere masks were strapped over their faces, and then driven to thespaceport. And, all the while, the deadly methane ammonia gas droppedlower and lower until it was within ten feet of the ground.
There were only a few buildings left to search now. The lines of the menhad reached the open grassy areas surrounding the city proper, and asthey collected in groups and exchanged information, Walters gatheredthem together.
"You've done a fine job, all of you," he said. "I don't think there's aliving thing left in this entire sector. All volunteers and the firstfour squads of enlisted guardsmen and second detachment of Space Marinesreturn to the spaceport and prepare to abandon Titan. Give all the aidto the officer in charge that you can. Again, I want to thank you foryour help."
As the group of men broke up and began drifting away, Walters hurriedover to Strong and Kit Barnard. "Steve," he said, "I want you tosupervise the evacuation at the spaceport. Since this screen has blownup, those poor people are frightened out of their wits. And they have aright to be. If a major screen blew instead of a small one, we reallywould be in trouble."
"Very well, sir," replied Strong. "Come on, Kit, you might as well blastoff with a load of children."
"Sure thing."
"Just a minute," Walters interrupted. "I would consider it a service,Kit, if you would send your young assistant back with your ship and youstick around until we get all the people safely off."
"Anything I can do to help, sir," replied Kit.
At that moment a tall enlisted spaceman walked up to Walters and salutedsharply. Walters noticed the stripes on his sleeve and his young-lookingface. He couldn't remember ever seeing such a young master sergeant.
"Captain Howard asked me to make my report to you, sir," said theguardsman.
"Very well, sergeant," said Walters.
The young spaceman made a detailed report of his search through sectorseleven and twelve. While he spoke, Strong kept looking at him, puzzled.When the guardsman had finished, Strong asked, "Don't I know you fromsomewhere, Sergeant?"
The guardsman smiled. "You sure do, Captain Strong. My name's Morgan,sir. I was a cadet with Tom Corbett and Astro, sir, but I washed out. SoI joined the enlisted guard."
"Congratulations, Sergeant," said Walters. "You're the youngest top kickI've ever seen." He turned to Strong. "Apparently we slipped up, Steve,letting this chap get out of the Academy so he could make a name forhimself in the enlisted ranks."
"Thank you, sir," replied Morgan, blushing with pride.
"Have you seen the cadets, by any chance, Sergeant?" asked Strong."They're both here on Titan with me."
"Oh, yes, sir," said Morgan. "I saw them some time ago."
"Where?"
"A few blocks closer to the heart of town," said Morgan, pointing backdown the avenue. "We were just starting in on sector eleven and I sawthem coming out of a restaurant."
"Funny they haven't returned," commented Walters. "And what would theybe doing down there?"
Strong's forehead creased into a frown of worry. "Sir, I wonder if you'dallow me a half hour or so to look for them?" he asked. "If they wereanywhere near this section when the screen collapsed, they could havebeen injured by the sudden release of pressure."
"They had masks, sir," said Morgan. "I gave them a couple myself."
Walters thought a moment. "It's just possible they might have beeninjured in some way," he mused. "Go ahead, Steve. If you don't findthem, and they don't show up at the spaceport, we'll organize a fullsearch."
"Thank you, sir," said Strong. "You come along with me, Sergeant."
Adjusting their oxygen masks, Captain Strong and Sergeant Morgan strodedown the street through the swirling mist of deadly methane ammonia tobegin their search for Tom and Astro.