“Yes, sir,” Clay said. “Now that the whole thing’s over, I’m beginning to think of a lot of questions myself.”
The talker hummed. I heard what sounded like hoarse breathing. I glanced at the indicator light. It was cargo deck.
I keyed. “If you have a report, Chilcote, go ahead,” I said.
Suddenly someone was shouting into the talker, incoherently. I caught words, cursing. Then Chilcote’s voice. “Captain,” he said. “Captain, please come quick.” There was a loud clatter, more noise, then only the hum of the talker.
“Take over, Clay,” I said, and started back to the cargo deck at a dead run.
Men crowded the corridor, asking questions. I forced my way through, found Kramer surrounded by men, shouting.
“Break this up,” I shouted. “Kramer, what’s your report?”
Chilcote walked past me, pale as chalk.
“Get hold of yourself, and make your report, Kramer,” I said. “What started this riot?”
Kramer stopped shouting, and stood looking at me, panting. The crowded men fell silent.
“I gave you a job to do, Major,” I said, “opening a cargo can. Now you take it from there.”
“Yeah, Captain,” he said. “We got it open. No wires, no traps. We hauled the load out of the can onto the floor. It was one big frozen mass, wrapped up in some kind of netting. Then we pulled the covering off.”
“All right, go ahead,” I said.
“That load of fresh meat your star-born pals gave us consists of about six families of human beings; men, women, and children.” Kramer was talking for the crowd now, shouting. “Those last should be pretty tender when you ration out our ounce a week, Captain.”
The men were yelling, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, as I thrust through to the cargo lock. The door stood ajar and wisps of white vapor curled out into the passage.
I stepped through the door. It was bitter cold in the lock. Near the outer hatch the bulky canister, rimed with white frost, lay in a pool of melting ice. Before it lay the half-shrouded bulk that it had contained. I walked closer.
They were frozen together into one solid mass. Kramer was right. They were as human as I. Human corpses, stripped, packed together, frozen. I pulled back the lightly frosted covering and studied the glazed white bodies.
Kramer called suddenly from the door. “You found your colonists, Captain. Now that your curiosity is satisfied, we can go back where we belong. Out here man is a variety of cattle. We’re lucky they didn’t know we were the same variety, or we’d be in their food lockers now ourselves. Now let’s get started back. The men won’t take no for an answer.”
I leaned closer, studying the corpses. “Come here, Kramer,” I called. “I want to show you something.”
“I’ve seen all there is to see in there,” Kramer said. “We don’t want to waste time; we want to change course now, right now.”
I walked back to the door, and as Kramer stepped back, to let me precede him out the door, I hit him in the mouth with all my strength. His head snapped back against the frosted wall. Then he fell out into the passage.
I stepped over him. “Pick this up and put it in the brig,” I ordered. The men in the corridor fell back, muttering. As they hauled Kramer upright I stepped through them and kept going, not running but wasting no time, toward the Bridge. One wrong move on my part now and all their misery and fear would break loose in a riot, the first act of which would be to tear me limb from limb.
I traveled ahead of the shock. Kramer had provided the diversion I had needed. Now I heard the sound of gathering violence growing behind me.
I was none too quick. A needler flashed at the end of the corridor just as the lift door closed. I heard the tiny projectiles ricochet off the lift shaft.
I rode up, stepped onto the Bridge and locked the lift. I keyed for Bourdon, and to my relief got a quick response. The panic hadn’t penetrated to Missile Section yet.
“Bourdon, arm all batteries and lock onto that Mancji ship,” I ordered. “On the triple.”
I turned to Clay. “I’ll take over, Clay,” I said. “Alter course to intercept our late companion at two and one-half gees.”
Clay looked startled, but said only, “Aye, sir.”
I keyed for a general announcement. “This is the captain,” I said. “Action station, all hands in loose acceleration harness. We’re going after Big Brother. You’re in action against the enemy now, and from this point on I’m remembering. You men have been having a big time letting off steam; that’s over now. All sections report.”
One by one the sections reported in, all but Med and Admin. Well, I could spare them for the present. The pressure was building now, as we blasted around in a hairpin curve, our acceleration picking up fast.
I ordered Ryan to lock his radar on target, and switch over to autopilot control. Then I called Power Section.
“I’m taking over all power control from the Bridge,” I said. “All personnel out of the power chamber and control chamber.”
The men were still under control, but that might not last long. I had to have the ship’s power, control, and armament entirely under my personal disposition for a few hours at least.
Missile Section reported all missiles armed and locked on target. I acknowledged and ordered the section evacuated. Then I turned to Clay and Ryan. Both were plenty nervous now; they didn’t know what was brewing.
“Lieutenant Clay,” I said, “report to your quarters; Ryan, you, too. I congratulate both of you on a soldierly performance these last few hours.”
They left without comment. I was aware that they didn’t want to be too closely identified with the captain when things broke loose.
I keyed for a video check of the interior of the lift as it started back up. It was empty. I locked it up.
Now we were steady on course, and had reached our full two and a half gees. I could hardly stand under that acceleration, but I had one more job to do before I could take a break.
Dragging my feet, I unlocked the lift and rode it down. I was braced for violence as the door opened, but I was lucky. There was no one in the corridor. I could hear shouts in the distance. I dragged myself along to Power Section and pushed inside. A quick check of control settings showed everything as I had ordered it. Back in the passage, I slammed the leaded vault door to and threw in the combination lock. Now only I could open it without blasting.
Control Section was next. It, too, was empty, all in order. I locked it, and started across to Missiles. Two men appeared at the end of the passage, having as hard a time as I was. I entered the cross corridor just in time to escape a volley of needler shots. The mutiny was in the open now, for sure.
I kept going, hearing more shouting. I was sure the men I had seen were heading for Power and Control. They’d get a surprise. I hoped I could beat them to the draw at Missiles, too.
As I came out in B Corridor, twenty feet from Missiles, I saw that I had cut it a bit fine. Three men, crawling, were frantically striving against the high-gee field to reach the door before me. Their faces were running with sweat, purple with exertion.
I had a slight lead; it was too late to make a check inside before locking up. The best I could hope for was to lock the door before they reached it.
I drew my Browning and started for the door. They saw me, and one reached for his needler.
“Don’t try it,” I called. I concentrated on the door, reached it, swung it closed, and as I threw in the lock a needler cracked. I whirled and fired. The man in the rear had stopped and aimed as the other two came on. He folded. The other two kept coming.
I was tired. I wanted a rest. “You’re too late,” I said. “No one but the captain goes in there now.” I stopped talking, panting. I had to rest. The two came on. I wondered why they struggled so desperately after they were beaten. My thinking was slowing down.