"Maybe we'd better dodge that sun entirely, Paul," said Clair. "It might drag us in."
"I have my reasons for taking this course. Look at the fuel tank," said Gaynor shortly.
Clair bent over the panel of dials that was the heart of the ship. He read aloud from an indicator. "Twenty-three liters of driving juice left." There was a long pause. "Pretty bad, isn't it, Paul?"
"Extremely so. When we get near enough that sun I'm going to play its gravity for all its worth. We have to get somewhere fast or we don't get anywhere at …
"By the way," he added, "Jocelyn doesn't know where we stand with the fuel. Suppose we don't let her know until she has to. Right?"
"Check," said Clair. "Maybe she has a right to know, but personally I feel more comfortable in my superior misery." He swallowed a food tablet. They were just starting on them—all the roughage diet had been consumed.
They were nearing the huge red sun, now. "Steady on the course, if you're going to take her through," said Clair. "If not, deflect up about twenty degrees and level out on three degrees of elevation."
"I'm taking her through, all right," said Gaynor grimly. "And us with her!" Reckless of the engines he clamped down an iron hand on the controls and the blunt little vessel shot forward, it speed redoubled.
The glare from the nearby sun lit up the engine-room with a feverish glow; Clair by the port seemed to be watching an Earthly sunset, the gaunt lines of his face picked out sharply by the somber light. The light grew as they swung across the face of the star, and became intolerably bright. Clair abruptly slammed the shutter of the port. "We can't risk blindness just here and now," he said thinly.
They felt the ship leap ahead under their feet; gravity was asserting itself once more as they came into the sway of the monster sun. The eyes of the two men were glued to the speed indicator. It mounted from its already incredible figure, then, as Gaynor abruptly cut off the flow of driving power, quivered down—halted--again began to mount. It rose and doubled, and the heat rose with it, beating through the thin metal walls of the vessel. Glaring streaks of light streamed through microscopic cracks in the metal shutter against the port. An indicator needle swung crazily on the instrument panel; the air and body of the ship was taking on a dangerously high potential of electricity.
Clair opened the shutter and winced as the stream of radiation hit his face. "We're past it," he said. "How's our speed?"
Gaynor examined the panel. "Constant," he said. "As soon as it lets down we can boost it with a bit of driving." He examined the potential indicator. "Look at that, Art!" he exclaimed. "God help the first meteorite that tries to get near us!"
Jocelyn appeared from behind her curtain. "Congratulations," she said. "That was a neat piece of corner-cutting. Where do we go from here?"
"I'm sure I don't know," said Gaynor wearily as the eight hour bell clanged. "Take over, Miss E. He walked to his bunk, already half asleep.
The girl swallowed a few food tablets and took the controls. "Human interest," she said.
"Sure," said Clair absently. "Great guy, Pavel."
"And what did I hear about the fuel?" she asked suddenly vicious.
"Just that there isn't enough of it," said Clair innocently. "We were worried about you worrying about it."
"I see," said the girl. "Big brother stuff. Don't let that foolish woman know. She'd only make a fuss about it when there's nothing we can do to help it. The female's place is on the farm with the other domesticated stock, huh?" She stuck her chin out belligerently.
"Excuse us." said Clair. "We were misguided by each other. Now that you know, so what? That makes the three of us a happy little family in a happy little hearse squibbing ourselves God knows where until our fuel runs dry. Then we drift. And drift and drift and drift. So what? For a good night's sleep without that goddamn bell I'd cut your throat, young lady, and throw you to the wolves."
She laughed happily. "Now that's the kind of talk I like to hear." she said. "Good, honest whimsy." Then Clair laughed and started her laughing again. They were sobered somewhat by a great gout of light and a crackling roar that shook the ship from stem to stern.
"What was that?" she asked. "Or is it another one of your secrets?"
"I think we can let you in on it," he said. "Just an inoffensive meteorite that came too near us and got blown to hell for its pains. We picked up a lot of excess juice around that red giant, and we just got our chance to fire it off at something."
"Poor little meteorite!" she gurgled, and they were laughing again.
Two weeks later no laughter could be heard on the little vessel. Three haggard and gaunt human beings sprawled grotesquely on the floor. The taste of food had not been in their mouths for days, and for them there was no sleep. The stars that had been once a hope and a prayer to them glittered mockingly through their port, oblivious to so small a thing as human want.
Gaynor stirred himself. "Art," he said. "Yeah?"
"I suppose you recall our little discussion on the ethics of cannibalism back there—Outside?"
"I hope you're not making a concrete proposal, chum. I'd hate to think so."
"No, Art. But you remember what our talk led to? Think hard, you fuzz-brained chimpanzee."
"Insults will get you nowhere at this point," interrupted Jocelyn. "What are the male animals discussing?"
"Ways and means," said Gaynor. "I'll put it this way. If you didn't want to either eat your best friends or be eaten by them and you know that unless you ceased to exist shortly you would be compelled to eat them or be eaten by them—well, what would you do?"
"I think I understand," said Jocelyn slowly. "I've read about it time and again and shuddered at the thought—but now it's different. I'd hate to eat you, little Pavlik, but if we don't—do something—we'll be thinking about it in silence and then comes the drawing of straws or the flip of a coin and one of us gets brained from behind."
"I'll get the stuff," said Clair wearily dragging himself to his feet. He was heard to smash bottles in the storeroom, then returned with the flask of whiskey and a little paper box.
The others took cups and presented them; shakily he poured the liquor, slopping on the floor as much as went into the cups.
"What does the trick?" asked Gaynor curiously.
"Mercury compound," he answered shortly, and tried to open the box. He spilled the tablets on the floor, and they bent agedly to pick theirs up.
"Two apiece is enough," said Clair thinly. They dropped the pellets into the liquid. Gaynor was delighted to see that it bubbled brightly. He inhaled the bouquet of the whiskey.
"No doubt about it in the mind of any gentlemen worth the name," he said. "House of MacTeague is far and away the best that money can buy."
"You're right, Pavlik," said Jocelyn. She rested her cup momentarily on the indicator panel. She felt as though the floor were swaying beneath her feet. "Is the ship moving?" she asked.
"No," said Gaynor. "At least, no acceleration." Jocelyn proposed the toast: "To—us. The hunters and the hunted; the seekers and the sought; the quick and the dead. To us!"
The others didn't repeat the toast. Something was wrong. Clair spun around, his face picked out in a green glow that had never been seen before. They dropped their cups and crowded at the port. The ship was surrounded by a bright green glow that leaked even through the pores of the ship's metal hull. Gaynor turned to the speed indicator. "Look!" he cried hoarsely.
The device had smashed itself attempting to record a fabulous figure.
Back at the port they saw one star that grew.
"We're held and drawn by a beam of some sort," excitedly Clair explained. "We're headed for that sun!"
As the disk of that star grew great in their heaven the ship slowed its mad flight. They could see a planetary system now. The beam had shot from one of those worlds.