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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/23102-h.zip b/23102-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2344306 --- /dev/null +++ b/23102-h.zip diff --git a/23102-h/23102-h.htm b/23102-h/23102-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d840a45 --- /dev/null +++ b/23102-h/23102-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2161 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of This World Must Die!, by H. B. Fyfe + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + + h1,h2 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + + hr {width: 33%; margin: 1em auto; clear: both; visibility: hidden;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto; text-align: center; font-size: .9em;} + + .trans1 {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: justify;} + + img {border: none} + + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; + font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + + .block1 {width: 37em; border: solid 1px; padding: 1em 3em; margin: 0 auto; + font-weight: bold; font-size: smaller; text-align: justify; word-spacing: .3em;} + .block2 {width: 20em; border: solid 5px; padding: .5em; margin: 2em auto;} + .block3 {width: 22em; margin: 2em auto; font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;} + .subhd {font-size: larger; text-align: center;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of This World Must Die!, by Horace Brown Fyfe + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: This World Must Die! + +Author: Horace Brown Fyfe + +Release Date: October 20, 2007 [EBook #23102] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THIS WORLD MUST DIE! *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 344px;"> +<img src="images/001.png" width="344" height="550" alt="" title="" /> +The girl clawed at Brecken's face as he raised the metal bar ...</div> + + + + + + +<div class="block1">Social living requires the elimination, or at very best, the modification of many elements +necessary to survival in "nature". And when an emergency arises, very often it is +the person who would be considered a "criminal", in other situations, who alone is +able to cope with the necessities. If we manage to eliminate "violence" from human +affairs, what will we find when a need for "violence" arises—a need outside of man's +artificial control of his environment?</div> + + +<div class="block2"><h1><big>THIS WORLD<br /> +MUST DIE!</big></h1> + +<p class="subhd">Feature Novelet of Dread Necessity</p></div> + +<div class="block3">"You have been chosen for this mission of murder +because you are the only people in our culture +who are capable of this type of violence. You have +broken our laws, and this is your punishment!"</div> + + + +<h2>By H. B. Fyfe</h2> + + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Lou Phillips</span> sat on the cold +metal deck of the control room, +seething with a growing dislike +for the old man.</p> + +<p>"What you are here for," the other +had told him when the guards had +brought Phillips in, "is a simple crime +of violence. You'll do, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>The old man paced the deck impatiently, +while a pair of armed guards +maintained a watchful silence by the +door. Two more men in plain gray +shirts and trousers sat beside Phillips, +leaning back sullenly against the +bulkhead. He guessed that they were +waiting for a fourth, remembering that +three other figures had been hustled +aboard with him at the Lunar spaceport.</p> + +<p>The door slid open, allowing another +youth in gray uniform to stumble +inside. One of the guards in the corridor +beyond shoved the newcomer +forward, and Phillips' eyebrows +twitched as he had a closer look. This +last prisoner was a girl.</p> + +<p>He thought she might have been +pretty, with a touch of lipstick and a +kinder arrangement of her short, ash-blonde +hair; but he lowered his eyes +as her hard, wary stare flickered past +him. She walked over to the bulkhead +and took a seat at the other end of +the little group.</p> + +<p>The old man turned, scanning their +faces critically. "I am in charge of a +peculiar project," he announced +abruptly. "The director of the Lunar +Detention Colony claims that you four +are the best he has—<i>for our purposes</i>!"</p> + +<p>Long habit kept the seated ones +guardedly silent. Seeing, apparently, +that they would not relax, he continued.</p> + +<p>"You were chosen because each of +you has received a sentence of detention +for life because of tendencies toward +violence in one form or another. +In our twenty-second century civilization +such homicidal inclinations are +quite rare, due to the law-abiding +habits of generations under the Interplanetary +Council."</p> + +<p>He had been pacing the cramped +space left free by the equipment, the +guards, and the four seated prisoners. +Now he paused, as if mildly astonished +at what he was about to say.</p> + +<p>"In fact, now that we are faced by +a situation demanding illegal violence, +it appears that no <i>normal</i> citizen is +capable of committing such an act. +Using you may eliminate costly +screening processes ... <i>and save time</i>. +Incidentally, I am Anthony Varret, +Undersecretary for Security in the +Council."</p> + +<p>None of the four showed any overt +sign of being impressed. Phillips +knew that the others, like himself, +were scrutinizing the old man with +cold, secretive stares. They had +learned through harsh experience to +keep their own counsels. Varret +shrugged. "Well, then," he said dryly, +"I might as well call the roll. I have +been supplied with accurate records."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">He drew a notebook</span> +from his pocket, consulted it +briefly, then nodded at the man next +to the girl. "Robert Brecken," he recited, +"age thirty-one, six feet, one +hundred eighty-five pounds, hair reddish +brown, eyes green, complexion +ruddy. Convicted of unjustified homicide +by personal assault while resisting +arrest for embezzlement. Detention +record unsatisfactory. Implicated +in two minor mutinies."</p> + +<p>He glanced next at the youth beside +Phillips. "Raymond Truesdale, age +twenty-two, five-feet-five, one-thirty. +Hair black, eyes dark brown, complexion +pale. Convicted of two suicide +attempts following failures in various +artistic fields. Detention record fair, +psychological report poor."</p> + +<p>His frosty eyes met Phillips'. +"Louis Phillips, age twenty-six, five-ten, +one-eighty. Hair brown, eyes +brown, complexion darkly tanned—that +was before Luna, wasn't it, +Phillips? Convicted of unjustified +homicide, having assaulted a jet +mechanic so as to cause death. Detention +record satisfactory."</p> + +<p>The blonde girl was last in Varret's +review. "Donna Bailey, age twenty-three, +five-five, one-fifteen. Hair +blonde, eyes blue, complexion fair. +Convicted of manslaughter by negligence, +while piloting an atmosphere +sport rocket in an intoxicated condition. +Detention record satisfactory."</p> + +<p>Varret fell silent, regarding them +with cynical disgust. His lips twisted +slightly with distaste. "There we have +it," he said. "A violent-tempered thief +from the business world; an over-expensive +purchase by a rich playboy +who became his widow by her own +negligence; a mentally-unstable fool +who thought he was artistically gifted, +and a rocket engineer who was +too brutally careless with his own +strength when irritated by a space-fatigued +helper. I wonder if you'll +do...?"</p> + +<p>Phillips felt impelled at last to +speak. "Just what plans do you have +for us?" he demanded harshly.</p> + +<p>"Nothing complicated," replied Varret, +matching the tone. "We need you +to perform a mass murder!"</p> + +<p>Phillips blinked, despite his prison-learned +reserve. He heard the girl +suck in her breath sharply, and felt +the youth beside him begin to tremble.</p> + +<p>"I have shocked you, I see," +sneered Varret. "Well, I assure you, +it shocks me also, probably a good +deal more since I have lived a normal +life. However—this is the background:</p> + +<p>"About three months ago, we had +reports of the outbreak of a deadly +plague in one of the asteroid groups. +As near as can be determined, it was +spread by the crew of an exploratory +rocket after the discovery of a new +asteroid. It began to sweep through +the mining colonies out there with the +velocity of an expanding nova!"</p> + +<p>"Where was your Health Department?" +asked the man named Brecken +in a sneering tone.</p> + +<p>Varret frowned at him. "Several +members gave their lives trying to +learn the nature of the disease. We +have no information to date, except +a theory that it attacks the nervous +and circulatory systems, because the +reports indicate that the reason of the +victim is markedly affected as the +disease progresses. Not a single survivor +is known—they all die in raving +insanity. We do not even know with +certainty how it is communicated."</p> + +<p>"What are you doing?" asked +Phillips.</p> + +<p>"Isolation. It is all we <i>can</i> do, until +our medical men can make some +progress. We evacuated an asteroid +colony and began to ship into it any +person showing any of the symptoms, +using a cruiser piloted by remote control. +That was where we slipped."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"On the last trip—unless we have +not really collected <i>all</i> the sufferers—we +lost control. Someone being +transported knew his spaceships. +Shortly thereafter, a gibbering lunatic +got on the screen and threatened the +escorting rocket. He announced the +cruiser would head for Mars, where +the passengers would demand their +freedom. They are past reasoning +with."</p> + +<p>"Can't say I really blame them," +Phillips remarked.</p> + +<p>"Blame them? Of course not! +Neither do I. What has that to do +with it? What has the Council so +worried is that this thing will get +loose on Mars, that it may even be +carried to Earth and Venus. There +are over a hundred persons in that +ship, no longer responsible for their +actions but capable of causing deaths +by the billions. We <i>want</i> to help +them, but we simply must hold the +line on this quarantine until we solve +the medical problem."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">They stared at him in</span> +silence, and Phillips noticed +that the old man's forehead was moist +with tiny beads of perspiration.</p> + +<p>"Don't you see? They are as good +as dead. No knowledge or help of man +can save them—as of this moment. If +we are <i>ever</i> to be of any help, we +must prevent a worse catastrophe.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the survival ship is a world +in itself, but this world must die!"</p> + +<p>For a minute or two, it seemed to +Phillips that he could hear each person +in the control room breathing. +Finally, there was a small sound of +cloth rubbing on metal as Brecken +stirred. "Why pick on us?" he rasped +from his seat on the deck. "I'm no +volunteer!"</p> + +<p>"I know what you are," replied +Varret sharply. "I know what you all +are. You have been chosen for this +mission of murder, because you are +the only people in our culture who +are capable of this kind of violence. +You have broken our laws, and this +is your punishment.</p> + +<p>"It would take us too long to find +others like you who had merely never +faced the same circumstances that +sent you four to Luna. We have made +attempts to attack this vessel. Manned +by normal men, our ships could accomplish +nothing."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" asked Phillips.</p> + +<p>"<i>The crews found they could not +kill!</i>"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"It amounts to that. One pilot +blacked out at the start of an offensive +approach. He lost contact before +recovering—you realize how quickly +that happens at interplanetary speeds. +On several other ships, there were +passive mutinies. One was destroyed; +how, we do not know."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you get some <i>men</i> in +your Department of Security?" +sneered Brecken.</p> + +<p>Varret sighed. "It was far from +simple cowardice. The crews had fine +records. We have been civilized too +long, so long that the idea of deliberate +killing unnerved them. As to the +one ship that did make some motion +to attack, it may have been destroyed +by the cruiser's defenses, or even by +sabotage. Somebody may quite possibly +have found the mission too repulsive +to face with complete sanity."</p> + +<p>He was interrupted by a uniformed +man, who slid the door open and gestured +significantly. Varret paused. He +nodded, and the newcomer retired.</p> + +<p>"I have only a few minutes," said +the old man, facing them again. "To +be brief, this patrol vessel is armed +with the best we have in guided atomic +missiles and sensitive detection devices. +Technical manuals are supplied +for everything we could think of, +though I doubt you will need them. +We have brought you to within a +few hundred miles of <i>them</i>.</p> + +<p>"In a few minutes, my men and I +will transfer to an escort ship. We +will slip in behind Deimos, not too far +away, and pick you up afterward to +land you on Mars. Any questions?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Phillips.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Why should we do anything at +all?"</p> + +<p>Varret's lips tightened. A guard +shrugged contemptuously. "I was told +to expect that attitude," the old man +admitted. "I suppose it is part of +the character we now think is needed +for such an expedition."</p> + +<p>"You could hardly expect co-operation," +Phillips pointed out. "Laws +against any kind of homicide are all +well enough, but I for one don't see +why I should draw the same sentence +as a murderer. I had to protect myself +or die—probably through having +that crazy fool blow up my rocket +room."</p> + +<p>"You'll make a cold landing on Sol +before you'll get any help from me!" +Brecken added defiantly.</p> + +<p>The girl said nothing, but Truesdale +muttered darkly.</p> + +<p>"Please!" said Varret. "I have no +time to argue about our social and +legal codes. The Council foresaw that +the threat of being yourselves subject +to this plague might not be +enough. If you succeed in destroying +or even immobilizing the cruiser, I +can offer you anything you want +short of unsupervised liberty. You +must still be watched as potential +dangers to society, but you may otherwise +be as wealthy or independent as +you wish."</p> + +<p>He motioned to the guards, who had +begun to fidget impatiently; wordlessly +they left the compartment.</p> + +<p>"You can settle your relations +among yourselves," said Varret. "We +chose Bailey partly because she has +piloted rockets privately, and Phillips +because he was a space engineer. Perhaps +Brecken could handle the torpedoes—I +do not know." He rubbed +his chin uneasily. "Frankly, I find +intimate discussion of the affair repulsive. +I hope you will decide to +do what is necessary for the welfare +of Earth."</p> + +<p>He turned abruptly and left the +control room. They heard distant +voices exhorting him to hurry.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 169px;"> +<img src="images/002.png" width="169" height="88" alt="2" title="2" /> +</div> + + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Brecken</span> arose and crept furtively to +the door. He leaned +out to peer down the corridor. +The nervous Truesdale bounced up to +crowd behind him. Phillips and the +girl looked at each other; she +shrugged, and they too got to their +feet. She turned to the instrument +panels; and after a moment, Phillips +joined her.</p> + +<p>"How have they got it?" he asked. +"Controls locked?"</p> + +<p>"No," murmured Donna. "Don't +need to; we're just coasting. Nice +job, though. Fast as a racer, I imagine."</p> + +<p>"You know something about +racers?"</p> + +<p>"I used to think I did," she answered, +shortly.</p> + +<p>He saw pain darken her blue eyes +and decided to probe no further. Instead, +he wandered about, inspecting +the instruments. A few minutes later, +with a spaceman's indefinable alertness, +he felt a change in the ship.</p> + +<p>"They still aboard?" he called to +Truesdale, who remained at the door +although Brecken had disappeared.</p> + +<p>The youth glanced over his shoulder +but did not trouble to reply. +Phillips' jaw set, and he took a quick +step toward the other. Before he +reached the doorway, however, Brecken +returned from the corridor. Shouldering +Truesdale aside, he strode into +the control room. "Well," he announced, +"the old fool hopped off +like he said. Got a viewer in here?"</p> + +<p>"I have it on now," called Donna +from the instrument desk. "There he +goes."</p> + +<p>They gathered around the screen +to watch. Near one edge was the image +of another ship, with several +spacesuited figures clustered around +its entrance port. The girl made an +adjustment, and the view crept over +to the center of the screen just as the +last of the figures vanished into the +opening. Almost immediately, the +other rocket slanted away on a new +course.</p> + +<p>Donna followed it on the screen +until the brief flashes of its jets were +dimmed by a new radiance—the ruddy +disk of Mars. "We <i>are</i> where he +said," she admitted. "Now what?"</p> + +<p>She looked at Phillips, who merely +shrugged. "What do you make of +it?" she insisted.</p> + +<p>"Pretty much as he said, probably," +answered the engineer. "He's heading +for Deimos, I suppose. I hear they're +landscaping the whole moon—it's +only about five miles in diameter—and +building a new space station for +a radio beacon and relay."</p> + +<p>"Does that log say anything about +the plague ship?" asked Truesdale +nervously.</p> + +<p>Donna scanned the observation record, +then adjusted the viewer. The +red radiance of Mars fled, to be replaced +by a dimmer scene of distant +stars.</p> + +<p>"In there someplace," she said. +"Out of range of this screen, but we +could probably locate it with detector +instruments."</p> + +<p>"Why all the jabber?" demanded +Brecken. "Let's get going!"</p> + +<p>Phillips stared at him. "What's the +rush? Did he sell you that easily?"</p> + +<p>"Huh? Oh, hell, no! I mean let's +make a dive for Mars. They were +dumb to set us loose with a fast ship. +We're dumber if we don't use it!"</p> + +<p>"That's right," agreed Truesdale +eagerly. "We don't owe them anything. +They owe us; for the years +they took out of our lives!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Truesdale had a point</span> +there, Phillips felt. This could +grow into quite a discussion, and he +was not sure which side he wanted +to take. He had no great urge to become +a hero, but on the other hand +there was something about Brecken +that aroused a certain obstinacy in +him.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute!" Donna protested; +"what do you think you're going to +do?"</p> + +<p>"Slip into a curve for Mars," said +Brecken. "Slow down enough to take +to chutes an' let this can smack up +in the deserts somewhere. They'll +never know if we got out, an' we'll +be on our own."</p> + +<p>The girl turned to Phillips. "How +about you?" she asked. "Don't you +think we should at least consider what +Varret told us? If this plague is as +dangerous as he says, this is no time +to—"</p> + +<p>"Do you <i>have</i> to be so bloodthirsty?" +complained Truesdale.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to kill anybody," declared +the girl; "maybe we could just +disable the cruiser."</p> + +<p>"Aw, kill your jets!" Brecken broke +in. "I've been waiting for a chance +like this for years. Don't get any +ideas!"</p> + +<p>"But listen!" pleaded Donna. "It's +a terrible thing, but if we don't do +it, we won't be safe on Mars ourselves; +they'll land and set an epidemic +loose."</p> + +<p>"I'll take my chances with it," said +Brecken. "You're supposed to know +something about piloting. Now get +us on a curve for Mars, an' be snappy +about it!"</p> + +<p>Donna turned desperately to Phillips.</p> + +<p>"Why not look over the ship," the +engineer suggested, "before we blast +off on half our jets? We can make +up our minds when we see what we +have for fuel and weapons."</p> + +<p>Brecken opened his mouth to object, +but was smitten by an unpleasant +thought. "Suppose they didn't +leave us enough fuel to make Mars!"</p> + +<p>"We can find out soon enough," +said Phillips, leading the way to the +door.</p> + +<p>They trooped down the corridor on +his heels, past the few closet-like +compartments set aside for living +quarters. It was a single-deck ship, +with storage compartments above and +below for fuel, oxygen, and other +necessities. The corridor was liberally +supplied with handrails, apparently in +case of failure of the artificial gravity +system.</p> + +<p>About halfway to the end, another +passage crossed the fore-and-aft one, +and a few steps farther was a ladder. +This extended up and down a vertical +well, which in space amounted to +a second cross corridor. Phillips was +right when he guessed that the door +beyond opened into the rocket room.</p> + +<p>The others were bored by the power +plant of the ship. The engineer, +however, could not repress a thrill at +once more standing surrounded by +the gauges, valves, and pumps with +which he had formerly lived. He +strode about, examining and comprehending +such appliances as seemed +new since his last service in space.</p> + +<p>"How about it?" demanded Brecken. +"Can you handle it?"</p> + +<p>"Sure," answered Phillips confidently. +"Mostly automatic anyway."</p> + +<p>"Then we can get movin' whenever +we want?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. The tanks are nearly +full; let's find those space torpedoes +the old man mentioned."</p> + +<p>"Maybe it won't hurt, at that," +grumbled Brecken.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">He led the way out, but</span> +paused indecisively. Phillips +stepped past him and considered the +cross passages near the midpoint of +the corridor. Those in the plane of +the control room deck probably led to +port and starboard airlocks, he reasoned, +so the others might lead to the +torpedo turrets.</p> + +<p>He went to the vertical well and +started up the ladder, hearing the +others follow. At the top, he was confronted +by a hatch with a red danger +sign. Glancing about, he located the +gauges that reported the air pressure +beyond. Normal.</p> + +<p>"Make a little room," he said, looking +down to Brecken.</p> + +<p>The big, ruddy face retreated a +few rungs. Phillips could hear the +others scrambling further down. He +got his head out of the way before +pulling the switch that opened the +hatch. With a subdued humming of +electric motors, the massively constructed +door swung down. One after +another, they pulled themselves up +into the compartment.</p> + +<p>"This must be where they set controls +for launching," guessed Phillips, +leaning back against a rack of emergency +spacesuits. "That intercom +screen on the bulkhead is probably +plugged in to the control room. Looks +as if the torpedoes themselves are +stored under that hatch at the after +end."</p> + +<p>"How do they kick them off?" +asked Brecken.</p> + +<p>"Those conveyor belts run them +into tubes in the forward bulkhead. +A charge of compressed air blows +them out, and then the rockets are +started and controlled by radio."</p> + +<p>"You mean we have to point at a +target to fire?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. Once the rockets are going, +the torpedo can be maneuvered +and aimed anywhere by remote control."</p> + +<p>"I've seen enough," announced +Truesdale. "I'm hungry."</p> + +<p>At that, they all decided to return +to the main deck. Phillips carefully +closed the airtight hatch as they left, +then followed the others in search of +the galley.</p> + +<p>Later, after a very unsatisfactory +meal of packaged concentrates, they +loitered sullenly in the control room +once more while Donna studied the +controls. Phillips had finally decided +that he could wear the third spacesuit +on the rack if he had to. He was +idly examining the tools supplied with +it when his thoughts were interrupted.</p> + +<p>Young Truesdale had been monkeying +with a range indicator for some +time, but now his sharp outcry drew +all eyes to him.</p> + +<p>The others immediately gathered to +peer over his shoulder. A needle flickered +wildly from one side of the dial +to the other.</p> + +<p>"Here! Get it balanced," said +Phillips, thrusting a powerful arm between +the crowded bodies. As his deft +adjustment steadied the needle, he +stepped back and leaned against the +bulkhead to study their faces. Truesdale's +was pale.</p> + +<p>"It's them!" he panted.</p> + +<p>"Well," asked Donna, "what will it +be?"</p> + +<p>"Whaddya mean?" demanded +Brecken, red-faced. "It'll be get dam' +well outa here, that's what it'll be!"</p> + +<p>"Let's see you go," invited the girl +coolly. "How well do <i>you</i> pilot a +rocket?"</p> + +<p>Brecken's jaw dropped. "Wh-wh-what? +You crazy? Did you swallow +all that stuff the old man told you?" +he sputtered.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" asked Donna. "They +didn't bring us all the way out here +for nothing. Varret was scared. If +it's that dangerous, somebody just has +to do it—and we're here!"</p> + +<p>"Not for long," said Brecken in an +ugly tone. "Get hot on those controls. +You, Phillips! Run back to that rocket +room and see that things work!"</p> + +<p>"You try it," suggested the engineer +quietly.</p> + +<p>He would have preferred to avoid +the trouble the girl had been stirring +up, but he did not relish Brecken's +tone. A few days off Luna, he reflected, +and already he was getting +independent.</p> + +<p>"Listen," said Donna, encouraged +in her defiance, "when I touch those +controls, we'll go right up and touch +noses with them. You'd better have +a torpedo ready!"</p> + +<p>She turned to the banks of buttons +and switches. Muffled thunder from +the stern jets trembled through the +hull as the men staggered.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 184px;"> +<img src="images/003.png" width="184" height="101" alt="3" title="3" /> +</div> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Brecken</span> recovered his balance +first. With a snarl, he grabbed +the girl by the nape of the neck +and shook her roughly. Glimpsing +Phillips' cold sneer, he reached back +and seized a heavy metal bar from the +spacesuit rack.</p> + +<p>"Now, dammit!" he grated. "You'll +do like I tell you! And <i>you</i> get back +there an' see that those tubes recharge +okay!"</p> + +<p>Phillips felt a hard anger swelling +his throat. From the corner of his +eye, he saw Truesdale shrinking back +against the bulkhead. He glanced +about desperately for something with +which to parry Brecken's bar.</p> + +<p>It was the girl who broke the tense +silence. With a gasping intake of +breath, she reached up to claw at +Brecken's face. Cursing, the man +twisted his head away to protect his +eyes. He released his grip on the girl's +neck and swung a clumsy, backhand +blow at her head. Donna stumbled, +and collapsed to the deck.</p> + +<p><i>Now or never</i>, Phillips told himself. +Without waiting to think, he +hurled himself forward.</p> + +<p>Brecken saw him coming, and tried +to shift around to meet the engineer's +charge. Phillips crashed into him +shoulder first, and they both brought +up against the opposite bulkhead with +a thud. He concentrated all his +strength into wringing the other's +forearm until he heard the bar clang +to the deck.</p> + +<p>Brecken clubbed him on the side of +the head with a wild left swing, and +Phillips found the big man's foot in +the way when he tried to sidestep. He +lost his balance, but kept his grasp +on the other so that they went down +together, thrashing about for some +opening. Brecken was red-faced with +a maniacal rage. Beads of saliva +sprayed from his twisted lips as he +sputtered curses.</p> + +<p>The engineer let go suddenly and +jolted the other under the chin with +the heel of his left hand. The man +arched backward, but Phillips caught +a knee in the chest that sent him +slithering across the deck. As he +strove to twist to his hands and +knees, he saw Brecken groping for +the bar.</p> + +<p><i>Never reach him</i>, thought Phillips +frantically.</p> + +<p>Thrusting one foot against the leg +of an anchored data desk, he raised +himself half upright as he lunged desperately +at Brecken. Strangely, it occurred +to Phillips for a fleeting lapse +of time that old Varret had been reasonably +astute in his selections, if he +desired violent-tempered throwbacks. +Then the breath was knocked out of +him as he smashed into Brecken with +a force that sent them both hurtling +into the bulkhead.</p> + +<p>The other's grunt of pain was almost +lost beneath the sharp smack of +bone against metal. Phillips scrambled +up hastily, but his opponent lay still.</p> + +<p>Over by the data desk, Donna was +beginning to squirm quietly and make +groping motions with her outstretched +hands. Truesdale had retreated to the +forward end of the control room, his +features blanched by apprehension.</p> + +<p><i>I'll bet</i>, thought Phillips, <i>that old +Varret slipped up in your case, my lad. +Your reaction to violence must be +what they call normal</i>.</p> + +<p>He beckoned brusquely. "Give me +a hand with him," he ordered.</p> + +<p>Brecken still showed no sign of +consciousness. Truesdale approached +warily, and with his aid Phillips lifted +the unconscious man. With their burden +limp in their hands, they staggered +down the corridor to one of the +sleeping compartments. There, they +slung him into a bunk.</p> + +<p>"He needs attention," said Truesdale.</p> + +<p>"He won't get it from me," snapped +Phillips. "Lumps on the head were +his idea; there's no time to fool with +him."</p> + +<p>He pulled the sliding door shut, noticing +that it had no lock. Since Brecken +would probably be some time recovering, +however, he put that out of +his mind.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Having returned to the</span> +control room, they discovered +Donna sitting up. At the sight of them, +she pulled herself somewhat shakily +to a standing position, and brushed +back her blonde hair.</p> + +<p>"What happened?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"He bumped his head on the bulkhead," +said Phillips shortly.</p> + +<p>This was accepted without comment. +They turned to the instruments and +examined the dial of the range indicator.</p> + +<p>"They aren't very far away," said +Donna quietly. "Where do you stand +now, Phillips?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose we'd better do it," he +admitted. "Pretty vicious, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"No!" she snapped. "I don't like +it either; I've never caused the death +of any human being."</p> + +<p>"Oh, sure. That's why you were on +Luna!"</p> + +<p>She looked at him levelly in the eye, +but her shoulders drooped a trifle with +the resignation of one who has often +been disbelieved.</p> + +<p>"My husband was a nice guy," she +murmured, "but he never did know +when he had a drink too many for +piloting his jet. He passed out trying +to give me a wild ride, and I got to +the controls just in time to crash-land +the rocket; that's where they found +me before I came to."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Phillips.</p> + +<p>"I'm not half as hard as I'm trying +to pretend," Donna went on, "even +after a year on Luna. But I was a +nurse before I was married. I'm thinking +about what it will be like if this +plague hits the planets before they +find something to fight it with. The +children ... imagine that, will you?"</p> + +<p>Phillips stared at the range indicator. +It seemed there were times when an +ugly thing had to be done for the +common good. He wondered how the +old-time executioners had felt, in the +days when there had been judicial +homicide. There were still jailers, for +that matter, and men who butchered +cattle.</p> + +<p>"Call it a mercy killing," murmured +Donna between pale lips. "Maybe you +think <i>that</i> isn't still done once in a +while, in spite of modern society."</p> + +<p>"Ummh," Phillips grunted. "Well, if +you can watch at this end, Truesdale +and I can go set up a couple of torpedoes. +I hope those rocket blasts +didn't give us away."</p> + +<p>"According to Varret," said Truesdale, +"there can't be many of them +still able to think straight enough to +stand on watch. I wonder what it's +like...."</p> + +<p>Phillips glanced askance at him, but +led the way into the corridor. First of +all, he stopped at the rocket room to +check the tube readings. The fired jets +had been automatically recharged.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">They left the rocket</span> +room and climbed the ladder +to the turret. Once inside, Phillips +spent the first few minutes inspecting +the equipment and thumbing through +the manuals left there by Varret. Finally, +the bored Truesdale broke in +upon his study.</p> + +<p>"That old goat must be crazy to +think he could toss us out here and +have us act like a trained crew. How +can we even hope to do anything right, +without blowing ourselves up?"</p> + +<p>"We can try," said Phillips coldly. +"It shouldn't be impossible to get one +started, at least."</p> + +<p>He found the twin control panels +in the bulkhead, and pulled a pair of +switches. There was a smooth humming +and a slight click as two hatches +in the deck slid open. Slanting metal +chutes rose out of the dark apertures, +just behind the conveyor belts.</p> + +<p>"Look at those babies!" breathed +Phillips.</p> + +<p>The snouts of two miniature spaceships +protruded from the storage hold. +Phillips touched other switches, and +the sleek missiles were prodded onto +the belts and moved forward until the +full, twenty-foot lengths were in view.</p> + +<p>"Phillips, you better be careful with +those things!" quavered Truesdale as +the engineer unscrewed a small hatch +on one.</p> + +<p>"Afraid I'll blow it up?" asked Phillips, +peering inside.</p> + +<p>"Why not? You never touched one +before."</p> + +<p>"You go ahead and believe that," +retorted the engineer. "Now, I'll just +turn on the radio controls, check the +batteries, and feed the bad news into +the launching tubes. Watch!"</p> + +<p>Replacing the hatch and securing +it, he thought out the procedure to use +at the remote control panels. Turning +on the screen above one of them produced +a cross-haired image of the bulkhead +directly in front of the near torpedo. +He tried various manipulations +until he had focused the view and +caused it to sweep all around the interior +of the turret. After idly watching +himself and Truesdale appear on +the screen, he returned the view to +dead ahead, switched it off, and turned +to the other panel.</p> + +<p>"I guess I can finish checking," he +said.</p> + +<p>Truesdale clambered hastily down +the ladder. Phillips shook his head. +"Don't know what use he'll be," he +muttered. "Too bad Brecken wouldn't +listen. He at least ... oh, well!"</p> + +<p>He wondered whether he himself +would stand up when the time came. +What Varret had asked did not sound +like much. Just a quick shot and +watch them blow apart. What inhibitions +made men black out rather than +carry it through? It was not as if +there were any hope for these people. +Surely, it was obvious that to permit +them, in their deranged state, to spread +a catastrophic plague was inconceivable. +But perhaps emotions were +stronger than reason.</p> + +<p>"I'll find out pretty soon," he reflected.</p> + +<p>There was little more to do in the +turret, except to run the torpedoes +into the launching tubes and bring up +a new pair in reserve. With that much +done, he closed the hatch and climbed +down the ladder.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">In the control room, he</span> +found Donna and Truesdale +peering into the screen. He crowded +close to look over their shoulders. A +small blob of light floated near the +center of the view. "That it?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Donna. "Just +enough Mars-light to show it."</p> + +<p>"How near are we?" asked Phillips.</p> + +<p>"About a hundred and fifty miles. +I have quite a large magnification, but +they may spot us if they're alert. Are +you ready to ... do something?"</p> + +<p>"Reasonably," said Phillips. +"Where's Brecken?"</p> + +<p>"You probably <i>killed</i> him!" Truesdale +broke in accusingly.</p> + +<p>"I found a first-aid kit and gave +him a shot," said Donna. "He has a +nasty lump on the head, but he might +sleep it off."</p> + +<p>Phillips was watching Truesdale. +The youth was visibly nervous. Was +it the thought of Brecken, the engineer +wondered, or fear of what they were +planning to do? Perhaps it would be +best to clear the air now, before it was +too late.</p> + +<p>"I guess you can handle it here, +Donna," he said. "Truesdale and I will +go to the turret and stand by."</p> + +<p>The youth shrank away. "No! I +won't go up there again! You can't +make me do this!"</p> + +<p>"Do what?" demanded Phillips.</p> + +<p>"It's <i>murder</i>! You both know it is! +They won't even have any warning."</p> + +<p>"I <i>hope</i> not," said Phillips drily. +"They might get <i>us</i>!"</p> + +<p>"You <i>would</i> put it that way," +sneered Truesdale; "you're homicidal +at heart anyway!" He turned on +Donna, wiping perspiration from his +forehead. "Are you going to let him +do it?" he shrilled. "Are you going to +help him commit such a crime?"</p> + +<p>The girl stared at him with a worried +look in her blue eyes but said +nothing.</p> + +<p>"Come on, Truesdale," said Phillips, +making an effort at a peaceful, +persuasive tone. "It will be either +their lives or ours if they spot us—and +millions more if they get by. +They'll be too desperate to think of +us. Do you want to die?"</p> + +<p>The instant he spoke the last words, +he remembered the other's record and +wished he had kept quiet. He saw, a +strange, wild expression creep over +Truesdale's features. It changed into +a look of hateful cunning as the youth, +began to sidle toward the door.</p> + +<p>"<i>I'm</i> not afraid to die!" he boasted +in a low-pitched but tense voice. "But +how about you, Phillips? How about +the big, brutal space engineer who is +proud of smashing men's skulls against +steel walls, who would like nothing +better than to blow up a shipload of +innocent people. How do you really +know they're dangerous? But you +don't care, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Truesdale!" snapped Phillips. +"Calm down!"</p> + +<p>"I'll calm you down with me!" +shouted the other hysterically. "I'll +<i>show</i> you who's afraid to die!"</p> + +<p>He ducked through the door toward +which he had been backing. Phillips +lunged after him, just barely missing +a grip.</p> + +<p>"On your toes!" he shouted over +his shoulder to Donna, and turned on +all jets.</p> + +<p>But Truesdale, driven by his peculiar +fury, not only stayed ahead as +they raced along the corridor, but actually +gained.</p> + +<p>He was fifteen or twenty feet out +in front as they reached the midway +point. Phillips, expecting him to take +refuge in the rocket room, was completely +fooled when Truesdale leaped +for the ladder in the vertical well. He +stumbled, and grabbed a handrail to +stop himself. The other was swarming +upward. Phillips sprang to follow.</p> + +<p>Hardly had he climbed half a dozen +rungs, however, than he saw he was +outdistanced. Truesdale's feet were already +disappearing beyond the hatchway. +Phillips waited for the airtight +door to slam shut. It remained open....</p> + +<p>Then a thrill of instinctive fear shot +through him as he thought of what +Truesdale might do—probably was +<i>doing</i> at that very instant!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 190px;"> +<img src="images/004.png" width="190" height="86" alt="2" title="2" /> +</div> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Throwing</span> his feet clear of the +rungs, he plunged back toward +the deck, guided only by his +hands brushing the sides of the ladder. +As Phillips reached the junction +of the passages, he kicked desperately +away from the ladder. He landed with +a thump that would have hurt had he +been in a calmer state.</p> + +<p>Rolling over toward the control +room, he came to his feet in time to +glimpse Donna looking out the doorway +before a jarring shock floored +him again.</p> + +<p>The deafening roar of an explosion +resounded in the corridor as a brilliant +light was luridly reflected from somewhere +behind him. The bewildering +force hurled him at the deck; he saw +he could not prevent his head from +striking—</p> + +<p>Phillips found himself on hands and +knees, staring stupidly at the deck a +few inches past his nose. As in a nightmare, +he seemed to spend an eternity +pushing himself painfully to his feet. +Clutching a handrail, he finally made +it.</p> + +<p>He saw Donna kneeling in the doorway, +hand to head. As he watched, the +girl looked at her hand, and dazedly +pulled out a handkerchief to wipe off +the blood.</p> + +<p>Then Phillips became aware of a +high breeze in his face. Behind him, +the sound of rushing air rose to a +moan, then to a shriek. That shocked +him to his senses.</p> + +<p>"<i>Button up!</i>" he screamed above +the noise, bringing his hands together +in an urgent gesture understood by all +spacemen.</p> + +<p>As the girl staggered to her feet, +he whirled and leaped toward the junction +of the cross corridors. He wasted +no time in a vain glance upwards—he +knew what Truesdale had done. Only +setting off the torpedoes' rockets in +the enclosed turret compartment would +have caused an explosion just severe +enough to rupture the ship's skin; if +the warheads had gone off, he never +would have known it.</p> + +<p>Diving headlong through the opening +in the deck, he experienced a dizzying +shift of gravity as he passed +through the plane of the main deck. +When he had his bearings again, he +scrambled "up" the ladder toward the +belly turret. By the time he got the +airtight hatch open, he was beginning +to pant in the thinning air. He pulled +himself through at last, and sealed the +compartment.</p> + +<p>Phillips sucked in a deep, luxurious +breath while he glanced about. This +turret, he saw, was a duplicate of the +other. He immediately located the intercom +screen and called the control +room. Donna's worried face appeared. +"Where are you?" was her relieved +inquiry.</p> + +<p>Phillips explained what had happened. +"The only thing," he concluded, +"is to try it from here."</p> + +<p>"I think they must have spotted +the flash," Donna told him. "The instruments +show a shift in their +course."</p> + +<p>"Blast right at them!" said Phillips. +"We might get away with it if +we're quick."</p> + +<p>He turned away, leaving the intercom +on. A few quick steps took him +to the control panels in the bulkhead. +Guided by his lessons in the other +turret, and by faded memories of space +school on Earth, he brought up two +of the torpedoes. He checked the radio +controls and ran the missiles into their +launching tubes. As he worked, with +nervous sweat running down into his +eyes, he was aware of the intermittent +jar of rocket blasts.</p> + +<p>"Run 'em down!" he muttered, trying +to steady his hand on the controls.</p> + +<p>He had a hand at each panel, with +the torpedoes poised viciously in the +tubes, when he heard Donna's shout, +shrill with excitement, over the intercom.</p> + +<p>Instantly, he launched the missiles. +He started the rockets by remote control, +and scanned the screens for a +sight of the other vessel.</p> + +<p>For a moment, his view was confused +by the expanding puff of air; +then that froze, and drifted back to +the hull, and he could see the stars.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Donna's voice, strained</span> +but coldly controlled, came +over the intercom with readings from +her instruments. He corrected his +courses accordingly.</p> + +<p>Then he saw the image of their +target centered on one screen, so he +concentrated on steering the other +missile. He made the nose yaw, but +was unable to locate anything on its +screen.</p> + +<p>"You're sending one of them too far +above, I think," Donna reported.</p> + +<p>"I have something wrong," he shouted. +"I can't spot them at all for that +one. The jets must be out of line and +shooting it in a curve."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he fired a corrective +blast on the weight of the guess, before +returning his attention to the first +torpedo.</p> + +<p>This one was right on the curve. He +could see the massive hull of the +cruiser plainly now. It was almost featureless +until, as he watched, several +sections seemed to slide aside.</p> + +<p>The screen showed him a momentary +glimpse of a swarm of small, +flame-tailed objects spewing forth +from one of the openings. Then the +view went dark. "Interceptor rockets +with proximity fuses," he muttered. +"They'll be after us next, crazy-mean +and frantic!"</p> + +<p>Over the intercom, he heard Donna +exclaim in dismay. He caught a fleeting +sight of her face and realized that +the situation must be torture for the +girl, as for himself or any normal person +of their civilization.</p> + +<p>Cursing himself for an optimist, he +raised two more of the missiles from +the magazine. Hopping about like a +jet-checker five minutes before take-off +time, he made them ready. It +seemed like hours before he got them +into the launching tubes and blew +them out into the void.</p> + +<p>Again, he watched the other vessel +appear ahead of his torpedoes, this +time on both screens. Before the gap +narrowed, he had a better opportunity +to see the defenses of the cruiser in +action.</p> + +<p>A whitish cloud of gas was expelled +from his target's hull, bearing a myriad +of small objects which promptly +acquired a life of their own. Both +screens were filled with flashing, diverging +trails of flame. Then—nothing.</p> + +<p>"They're heading at us!" called +Donna. "Hang on!"</p> + +<p>Phillips had already pulled the +switches to bring up a new pair of +torpedoes. Hearing the urgency in +Donna's tone, he leaped toward a +rack of spacesuits and grabbed.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">The next instant, he</span> +was pinned forcibly against the +rack by acceleration, as Donna made +the ship dodge aside. From one side, +he heard a screech of grating metal. +The fresh missiles must have jammed +halfway out of the storage compartment.</p> + +<p>It gave him a weird feeling of unreality; +as he hung there helplessly, +to see one of the screens on the bulkhead +pick up something moving, +gleaming, metallic.</p> + +<p>"Donna!" he shouted hoarsely. "Let +up!"</p> + +<p>"I don't dare," she gasped over the +intercom. "I lost them, but they were +starting after us!"</p> + +<p>"Let up!" repeated Phillips. +"They're dead ahead of that wild shot +of ours. Let me get to the controls!"</p> + +<p>He dropped abruptly to the deck as +the acceleration vanished. One leap +carried him to the radio controls.</p> + +<p>The metallic gleam had swelled into +a huge spaceship. The cruiser was +angling slightly away from the point +from which he seemed to be viewing +it. How soon, he wondered, would +they detect the presence of his torpedo? +Or would they neglect this direction, +being intent upon the destruction +of those who were attempting to +frustrate their mad dash for Mars?</p> + +<p>Phillips stood before the screen, +clenching his fists. There was, after +all, nothing for him to do but watch. +The gleaming hull expanded with a +swelling rush. Details of construction, +hitherto invisible, leaped out at him. +A crack finally appeared as a section +began to slide back.</p> + +<p>This time, however, there was no +blinding flare of small rockets. The +blacking out of the screen coincided +with Donna's scream. "<i>It hit!</i>"</p> + +<p>In the silence that followed, he +thought he heard a sob.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phillips," she said, recovering, +"we did it. They're—"</p> + +<p>"Hang on," said Phillips. "I'll climb +into a spacesuit and come forward."</p> + +<p>He switched off the intercom and +dragged a suit from the rack. It took +him a good fifteen minutes to get the +helmet screwed on properly and to +check everything else. He realized that +he was very tired.</p> + +<p>He opened the exit hatch, seized +the top of the ladder in his gauntlets +as the air exploded out of the turret, +and climbed back to the main deck.</p> + +<p>Clumping forward through the airless +corridor, he stopped to look into +the compartment where he had left +Brecken. He quickly slid the door shut +again.</p> + +<p>He found that Donna had sealed +off the corridor just short of the control +room by closing a double emergency +door that must have been designed +to form an airlock in just such +a situation. He hammered upon it, and +she slid it open from the control desk.</p> + +<p>It closed again behind him, and he +entered the control room through the +usual door. The girl helped him to +remove the suit and motioned him toward +the screen.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Phillips regarded the</span> +scene without enthusiasm. The +sight of the dead man had reminded +him of what the compartments of that +other vessel must look like by now. +Its parts were beginning to scatter +slowly.</p> + +<p>He looked at Donna, and found her +regarding him soberly. "What will +they do with us now?" she asked.</p> + +<p>She looked exhausted. He extended +an arm, and she leaned against him. +"You heard what Varret said," he told +her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but will he keep his word? +They might be ... ashamed of us, now +that it's done. Even if they're not, I +can't bear the thought of going back +to Earth and having them stare at +me!"</p> + +<p>Phillips nodded. He remembered the +morbid curiosity during his own trial, +the crowds who had watched him with +a kind of shrinking horror—and he +had actually been responsible for saving +a spaceship and its crew, had they +cared to look on that side of the affair.</p> + +<p>But he had killed. That was no +longer the action of a normal human +being, according to popular thinking.</p> + +<p>"I guess you and I are the only +ones who will understand one another +from now on," he shrugged.</p> + +<p>Donna smiled faintly, just as the +signal sounded on the communication +screen.</p> + +<p>It was Varret, looking pale and +strained. He listened to Phillips' account, +including the deaths of Truesdale +and Brecken, and apologized for +his appearance. He had, he informed +them, been unpleasantly ill when he +had seen the explosion. "It was a terrible +thing," Varret continued sadly, +"but necessary. They were beyond +reasoning with, and a deadly menace."</p> + +<p>He pulled himself together and tried +to hide his agitation by reminding +them of his promise. He suggested +that they consider their requests while +his ship attempted to tow them in to +Deimos.</p> + +<p>Phillips glanced speculatively at +Donna. They would be two outcasts, +however much their deed might be +respected abstractly, however much official +expressions of gratitude were +employed to gloss over the fact. He +might as well take one chance more. +"We have already decided," he said +boldly. "I hear you are building a new +space station on Deimos."</p> + +<p>The old man nodded, surprised.</p> + +<p>"We will ask for a deed to that +moon, and a contract to operate the +beacon and radio relay station," Phillips +stated flatly.</p> + +<p>Varret blinked, then smiled slightly +in a sort of understanding admiration.</p> + +<p>"Reasonable and astute," he murmured +after a moment's hesitation. +"I think I appreciate the motive. Perhaps, +if that ship can be repaired and +remodeled, we can include it so that +you may make short visits to Mars."</p> + +<p>He warned them to watch for the +emergency crew he would send to their +aid, and switched off.</p> + +<p>Phillips then dared finally to turn +and look inquiringly at Donna. Her +smile was relaxed for the first time +since they had met. "Nice bargaining," +she said, and Phillips felt like +the king of something larger than a +tiny Martian satellite.</p> + + + + +<div class="trans1"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b><br /> +This etext was produced from <i>Future combined with Science Fiction +Stories</i> September 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any +evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor +spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's This World Must Die!, by Horace Brown Fyfe + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THIS WORLD MUST DIE! *** + +***** This file should be named 23102-h.htm or 23102-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/1/0/23102/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: This World Must Die! + +Author: Horace Brown Fyfe + +Release Date: October 20, 2007 [EBook #23102] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THIS WORLD MUST DIE! *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: The girl clawed at Brecken's face as he raised the metal +bar ...] + + + Social living requires the elimination, or at very best, the modification + of many elements necessary to survival in "nature". And when an emergency + arises, very often it is the person who would be considered a "criminal", + in other situations, who alone is able to cope with the necessities. If + we manage to eliminate "violence" from human affairs, what will we find + when a need for "violence" arises--a need outside of man's artificial + control of his environment? + + + THIS WORLD + MUST DIE! + + Feature Novelet of Dread Necessity + + + "You have been chosen for this mission of murder + because you are the only people in our culture + who are capable of this type of violence. You have + broken our laws, and this is your punishment!" + + + By H. B. Fyfe + + +Lou Phillips sat on the cold metal deck of the control room, seething +with a growing dislike for the old man. + +"What you are here for," the other had told him when the guards had +brought Phillips in, "is a simple crime of violence. You'll do, I'm +sure." + +The old man paced the deck impatiently, while a pair of armed guards +maintained a watchful silence by the door. Two more men in plain gray +shirts and trousers sat beside Phillips, leaning back sullenly against +the bulkhead. He guessed that they were waiting for a fourth, +remembering that three other figures had been hustled aboard with him at +the Lunar spaceport. + +The door slid open, allowing another youth in gray uniform to stumble +inside. One of the guards in the corridor beyond shoved the newcomer +forward, and Phillips' eyebrows twitched as he had a closer look. This +last prisoner was a girl. + +He thought she might have been pretty, with a touch of lipstick and a +kinder arrangement of her short, ash-blonde hair; but he lowered his +eyes as her hard, wary stare flickered past him. She walked over to the +bulkhead and took a seat at the other end of the little group. + +The old man turned, scanning their faces critically. "I am in charge of +a peculiar project," he announced abruptly. "The director of the Lunar +Detention Colony claims that you four are the best he has--_for our +purposes_!" + +Long habit kept the seated ones guardedly silent. Seeing, apparently, +that they would not relax, he continued. + +"You were chosen because each of you has received a sentence of +detention for life because of tendencies toward violence in one form or +another. In our twenty-second century civilization such homicidal +inclinations are quite rare, due to the law-abiding habits of +generations under the Interplanetary Council." + +He had been pacing the cramped space left free by the equipment, the +guards, and the four seated prisoners. Now he paused, as if mildly +astonished at what he was about to say. + +"In fact, now that we are faced by a situation demanding illegal +violence, it appears that no _normal_ citizen is capable of committing +such an act. Using you may eliminate costly screening processes ... _and +save time_. Incidentally, I am Anthony Varret, Undersecretary for +Security in the Council." + +None of the four showed any overt sign of being impressed. Phillips knew +that the others, like himself, were scrutinizing the old man with cold, +secretive stares. They had learned through harsh experience to keep +their own counsels. Varret shrugged. "Well, then," he said dryly, "I +might as well call the roll. I have been supplied with accurate +records." + + * * * * * + +He drew a notebook from his pocket, consulted it briefly, then nodded at +the man next to the girl. "Robert Brecken," he recited, "age thirty-one, +six feet, one hundred eighty-five pounds, hair reddish brown, eyes +green, complexion ruddy. Convicted of unjustified homicide by personal +assault while resisting arrest for embezzlement. Detention record +unsatisfactory. Implicated in two minor mutinies." + +He glanced next at the youth beside Phillips. "Raymond Truesdale, age +twenty-two, five-feet-five, one-thirty. Hair black, eyes dark brown, +complexion pale. Convicted of two suicide attempts following failures in +various artistic fields. Detention record fair, psychological report +poor." + +His frosty eyes met Phillips'. "Louis Phillips, age twenty-six, +five-ten, one-eighty. Hair brown, eyes brown, complexion darkly +tanned--that was before Luna, wasn't it, Phillips? Convicted of +unjustified homicide, having assaulted a jet mechanic so as to cause +death. Detention record satisfactory." + +The blonde girl was last in Varret's review. "Donna Bailey, age +twenty-three, five-five, one-fifteen. Hair blonde, eyes blue, complexion +fair. Convicted of manslaughter by negligence, while piloting an +atmosphere sport rocket in an intoxicated condition. Detention record +satisfactory." + +Varret fell silent, regarding them with cynical disgust. His lips +twisted slightly with distaste. "There we have it," he said. "A +violent-tempered thief from the business world; an over-expensive +purchase by a rich playboy who became his widow by her own negligence; a +mentally-unstable fool who thought he was artistically gifted, and a +rocket engineer who was too brutally careless with his own strength when +irritated by a space-fatigued helper. I wonder if you'll do...?" + +Phillips felt impelled at last to speak. "Just what plans do you have +for us?" he demanded harshly. + +"Nothing complicated," replied Varret, matching the tone. "We need you +to perform a mass murder!" + +Phillips blinked, despite his prison-learned reserve. He heard the girl +suck in her breath sharply, and felt the youth beside him begin to +tremble. + +"I have shocked you, I see," sneered Varret. "Well, I assure you, it +shocks me also, probably a good deal more since I have lived a normal +life. However--this is the background: + +"About three months ago, we had reports of the outbreak of a deadly +plague in one of the asteroid groups. As near as can be determined, it +was spread by the crew of an exploratory rocket after the discovery of a +new asteroid. It began to sweep through the mining colonies out there +with the velocity of an expanding nova!" + +"Where was your Health Department?" asked the man named Brecken in a +sneering tone. + +Varret frowned at him. "Several members gave their lives trying to learn +the nature of the disease. We have no information to date, except a +theory that it attacks the nervous and circulatory systems, because the +reports indicate that the reason of the victim is markedly affected as +the disease progresses. Not a single survivor is known--they all die in +raving insanity. We do not even know with certainty how it is +communicated." + +"What are you doing?" asked Phillips. + +"Isolation. It is all we _can_ do, until our medical men can make some +progress. We evacuated an asteroid colony and began to ship into it any +person showing any of the symptoms, using a cruiser piloted by remote +control. That was where we slipped." + +"How?" + +"On the last trip--unless we have not really collected _all_ the +sufferers--we lost control. Someone being transported knew his +spaceships. Shortly thereafter, a gibbering lunatic got on the screen +and threatened the escorting rocket. He announced the cruiser would head +for Mars, where the passengers would demand their freedom. They are past +reasoning with." + +"Can't say I really blame them," Phillips remarked. + +"Blame them? Of course not! Neither do I. What has that to do with it? +What has the Council so worried is that this thing will get loose on +Mars, that it may even be carried to Earth and Venus. There are over a +hundred persons in that ship, no longer responsible for their actions +but capable of causing deaths by the billions. We _want_ to help them, +but we simply must hold the line on this quarantine until we solve the +medical problem." + + * * * * * + +They stared at him in silence, and Phillips noticed that the old man's +forehead was moist with tiny beads of perspiration. + +"Don't you see? They are as good as dead. No knowledge or help of man +can save them--as of this moment. If we are _ever_ to be of any help, we +must prevent a worse catastrophe. + +"Yes, the survival ship is a world in itself, but this world must die!" + +For a minute or two, it seemed to Phillips that he could hear each +person in the control room breathing. Finally, there was a small sound +of cloth rubbing on metal as Brecken stirred. "Why pick on us?" he +rasped from his seat on the deck. "I'm no volunteer!" + +"I know what you are," replied Varret sharply. "I know what you all are. +You have been chosen for this mission of murder, because you are the +only people in our culture who are capable of this kind of violence. You +have broken our laws, and this is your punishment. + +"It would take us too long to find others like you who had merely never +faced the same circumstances that sent you four to Luna. We have made +attempts to attack this vessel. Manned by normal men, our ships could +accomplish nothing." + +"Why not?" asked Phillips. + +"_The crews found they could not kill!_" + +"What?" + +"It amounts to that. One pilot blacked out at the start of an offensive +approach. He lost contact before recovering--you realize how quickly +that happens at interplanetary speeds. On several other ships, there +were passive mutinies. One was destroyed; how, we do not know." + +"Why don't you get some _men_ in your Department of Security?" sneered +Brecken. + +Varret sighed. "It was far from simple cowardice. The crews had fine +records. We have been civilized too long, so long that the idea of +deliberate killing unnerved them. As to the one ship that did make some +motion to attack, it may have been destroyed by the cruiser's defenses, +or even by sabotage. Somebody may quite possibly have found the mission +too repulsive to face with complete sanity." + +He was interrupted by a uniformed man, who slid the door open and +gestured significantly. Varret paused. He nodded, and the newcomer +retired. + +"I have only a few minutes," said the old man, facing them again. "To be +brief, this patrol vessel is armed with the best we have in guided +atomic missiles and sensitive detection devices. Technical manuals are +supplied for everything we could think of, though I doubt you will need +them. We have brought you to within a few hundred miles of _them_. + +"In a few minutes, my men and I will transfer to an escort ship. We will +slip in behind Deimos, not too far away, and pick you up afterward to +land you on Mars. Any questions?" + +"Yes," said Phillips. + +"What?" + +"Why should we do anything at all?" + +Varret's lips tightened. A guard shrugged contemptuously. "I was told to +expect that attitude," the old man admitted. "I suppose it is part of +the character we now think is needed for such an expedition." + +"You could hardly expect co-operation," Phillips pointed out. "Laws +against any kind of homicide are all well enough, but I for one don't +see why I should draw the same sentence as a murderer. I had to protect +myself or die--probably through having that crazy fool blow up my rocket +room." + +"You'll make a cold landing on Sol before you'll get any help from me!" +Brecken added defiantly. + +The girl said nothing, but Truesdale muttered darkly. + +"Please!" said Varret. "I have no time to argue about our social and +legal codes. The Council foresaw that the threat of being yourselves +subject to this plague might not be enough. If you succeed in destroying +or even immobilizing the cruiser, I can offer you anything you want +short of unsupervised liberty. You must still be watched as potential +dangers to society, but you may otherwise be as wealthy or independent +as you wish." + +He motioned to the guards, who had begun to fidget impatiently; +wordlessly they left the compartment. + +"You can settle your relations among yourselves," said Varret. "We chose +Bailey partly because she has piloted rockets privately, and Phillips +because he was a space engineer. Perhaps Brecken could handle the +torpedoes--I do not know." He rubbed his chin uneasily. "Frankly, I find +intimate discussion of the affair repulsive. I hope you will decide to +do what is necessary for the welfare of Earth." + +He turned abruptly and left the control room. They heard distant voices +exhorting him to hurry. + + + + +[Illustration: 2] + + +Brecken arose and crept furtively to the door. He leaned out to peer +down the corridor. The nervous Truesdale bounced up to crowd behind him. +Phillips and the girl looked at each other; she shrugged, and they too +got to their feet. She turned to the instrument panels; and after a +moment, Phillips joined her. + +"How have they got it?" he asked. "Controls locked?" + +"No," murmured Donna. "Don't need to; we're just coasting. Nice job, +though. Fast as a racer, I imagine." + +"You know something about racers?" + +"I used to think I did," she answered, shortly. + +He saw pain darken her blue eyes and decided to probe no further. +Instead, he wandered about, inspecting the instruments. A few minutes +later, with a spaceman's indefinable alertness, he felt a change in the +ship. + +"They still aboard?" he called to Truesdale, who remained at the door +although Brecken had disappeared. + +The youth glanced over his shoulder but did not trouble to reply. +Phillips' jaw set, and he took a quick step toward the other. Before he +reached the doorway, however, Brecken returned from the corridor. +Shouldering Truesdale aside, he strode into the control room. "Well," he +announced, "the old fool hopped off like he said. Got a viewer in here?" + +"I have it on now," called Donna from the instrument desk. "There he +goes." + +They gathered around the screen to watch. Near one edge was the image of +another ship, with several spacesuited figures clustered around its +entrance port. The girl made an adjustment, and the view crept over to +the center of the screen just as the last of the figures vanished into +the opening. Almost immediately, the other rocket slanted away on a new +course. + +Donna followed it on the screen until the brief flashes of its jets were +dimmed by a new radiance--the ruddy disk of Mars. "We _are_ where he +said," she admitted. "Now what?" + +She looked at Phillips, who merely shrugged. "What do you make of it?" +she insisted. + +"Pretty much as he said, probably," answered the engineer. "He's heading +for Deimos, I suppose. I hear they're landscaping the whole moon--it's +only about five miles in diameter--and building a new space station for +a radio beacon and relay." + +"Does that log say anything about the plague ship?" asked Truesdale +nervously. + +Donna scanned the observation record, then adjusted the viewer. The red +radiance of Mars fled, to be replaced by a dimmer scene of distant +stars. + +"In there someplace," she said. "Out of range of this screen, but we +could probably locate it with detector instruments." + +"Why all the jabber?" demanded Brecken. "Let's get going!" + +Phillips stared at him. "What's the rush? Did he sell you that easily?" + +"Huh? Oh, hell, no! I mean let's make a dive for Mars. They were dumb to +set us loose with a fast ship. We're dumber if we don't use it!" + +"That's right," agreed Truesdale eagerly. "We don't owe them anything. +They owe us; for the years they took out of our lives!" + + * * * * * + +Truesdale had a point there, Phillips felt. This could grow into quite a +discussion, and he was not sure which side he wanted to take. He had no +great urge to become a hero, but on the other hand there was something +about Brecken that aroused a certain obstinacy in him. + +"Wait a minute!" Donna protested; "what do you think you're going to +do?" + +"Slip into a curve for Mars," said Brecken. "Slow down enough to take to +chutes an' let this can smack up in the deserts somewhere. They'll never +know if we got out, an' we'll be on our own." + +The girl turned to Phillips. "How about you?" she asked. "Don't you +think we should at least consider what Varret told us? If this plague is +as dangerous as he says, this is no time to--" + +"Do you _have_ to be so bloodthirsty?" complained Truesdale. + +"I don't want to kill anybody," declared the girl; "maybe we could just +disable the cruiser." + +"Aw, kill your jets!" Brecken broke in. "I've been waiting for a chance +like this for years. Don't get any ideas!" + +"But listen!" pleaded Donna. "It's a terrible thing, but if we don't do +it, we won't be safe on Mars ourselves; they'll land and set an epidemic +loose." + +"I'll take my chances with it," said Brecken. "You're supposed to know +something about piloting. Now get us on a curve for Mars, an' be snappy +about it!" + +Donna turned desperately to Phillips. + +"Why not look over the ship," the engineer suggested, "before we blast +off on half our jets? We can make up our minds when we see what we have +for fuel and weapons." + +Brecken opened his mouth to object, but was smitten by an unpleasant +thought. "Suppose they didn't leave us enough fuel to make Mars!" + +"We can find out soon enough," said Phillips, leading the way to the +door. + +They trooped down the corridor on his heels, past the few closet-like +compartments set aside for living quarters. It was a single-deck ship, +with storage compartments above and below for fuel, oxygen, and other +necessities. The corridor was liberally supplied with handrails, +apparently in case of failure of the artificial gravity system. + +About halfway to the end, another passage crossed the fore-and-aft one, +and a few steps farther was a ladder. This extended up and down a +vertical well, which in space amounted to a second cross corridor. +Phillips was right when he guessed that the door beyond opened into the +rocket room. + +The others were bored by the power plant of the ship. The engineer, +however, could not repress a thrill at once more standing surrounded by +the gauges, valves, and pumps with which he had formerly lived. He +strode about, examining and comprehending such appliances as seemed new +since his last service in space. + +"How about it?" demanded Brecken. "Can you handle it?" + +"Sure," answered Phillips confidently. "Mostly automatic anyway." + +"Then we can get movin' whenever we want?" + +"I suppose so. The tanks are nearly full; let's find those space +torpedoes the old man mentioned." + +"Maybe it won't hurt, at that," grumbled Brecken. + + * * * * * + +He led the way out, but paused indecisively. Phillips stepped past him +and considered the cross passages near the midpoint of the corridor. +Those in the plane of the control room deck probably led to port and +starboard airlocks, he reasoned, so the others might lead to the torpedo +turrets. + +He went to the vertical well and started up the ladder, hearing the +others follow. At the top, he was confronted by a hatch with a red +danger sign. Glancing about, he located the gauges that reported the air +pressure beyond. Normal. + +"Make a little room," he said, looking down to Brecken. + +The big, ruddy face retreated a few rungs. Phillips could hear the +others scrambling further down. He got his head out of the way before +pulling the switch that opened the hatch. With a subdued humming of +electric motors, the massively constructed door swung down. One after +another, they pulled themselves up into the compartment. + +"This must be where they set controls for launching," guessed Phillips, +leaning back against a rack of emergency spacesuits. "That intercom +screen on the bulkhead is probably plugged in to the control room. Looks +as if the torpedoes themselves are stored under that hatch at the after +end." + +"How do they kick them off?" asked Brecken. + +"Those conveyor belts run them into tubes in the forward bulkhead. A +charge of compressed air blows them out, and then the rockets are +started and controlled by radio." + +"You mean we have to point at a target to fire?" + +"Oh, no. Once the rockets are going, the torpedo can be maneuvered and +aimed anywhere by remote control." + +"I've seen enough," announced Truesdale. "I'm hungry." + +At that, they all decided to return to the main deck. Phillips +carefully closed the airtight hatch as they left, then followed the +others in search of the galley. + +Later, after a very unsatisfactory meal of packaged concentrates, they +loitered sullenly in the control room once more while Donna studied the +controls. Phillips had finally decided that he could wear the third +spacesuit on the rack if he had to. He was idly examining the tools +supplied with it when his thoughts were interrupted. + +Young Truesdale had been monkeying with a range indicator for some time, +but now his sharp outcry drew all eyes to him. + +The others immediately gathered to peer over his shoulder. A needle +flickered wildly from one side of the dial to the other. + +"Here! Get it balanced," said Phillips, thrusting a powerful arm between +the crowded bodies. As his deft adjustment steadied the needle, he +stepped back and leaned against the bulkhead to study their faces. +Truesdale's was pale. + +"It's them!" he panted. + +"Well," asked Donna, "what will it be?" + +"Whaddya mean?" demanded Brecken, red-faced. "It'll be get dam' well +outa here, that's what it'll be!" + +"Let's see you go," invited the girl coolly. "How well do _you_ pilot a +rocket?" + +Brecken's jaw dropped. "Wh-wh-what? You crazy? Did you swallow all that +stuff the old man told you?" he sputtered. + +"Why not?" asked Donna. "They didn't bring us all the way out here for +nothing. Varret was scared. If it's that dangerous, somebody just has to +do it--and we're here!" + +"Not for long," said Brecken in an ugly tone. "Get hot on those +controls. You, Phillips! Run back to that rocket room and see that +things work!" + +"You try it," suggested the engineer quietly. + +He would have preferred to avoid the trouble the girl had been stirring +up, but he did not relish Brecken's tone. A few days off Luna, he +reflected, and already he was getting independent. + +"Listen," said Donna, encouraged in her defiance, "when I touch those +controls, we'll go right up and touch noses with them. You'd better have +a torpedo ready!" + +She turned to the banks of buttons and switches. Muffled thunder from +the stern jets trembled through the hull as the men staggered. + + + + +[Illustration: 3] + + +Brecken recovered his balance first. With a snarl, he grabbed the girl +by the nape of the neck and shook her roughly. Glimpsing Phillips' cold +sneer, he reached back and seized a heavy metal bar from the spacesuit +rack. + +"Now, dammit!" he grated. "You'll do like I tell you! And _you_ get back +there an' see that those tubes recharge okay!" + +Phillips felt a hard anger swelling his throat. From the corner of his +eye, he saw Truesdale shrinking back against the bulkhead. He glanced +about desperately for something with which to parry Brecken's bar. + +It was the girl who broke the tense silence. With a gasping intake of +breath, she reached up to claw at Brecken's face. Cursing, the man +twisted his head away to protect his eyes. He released his grip on the +girl's neck and swung a clumsy, backhand blow at her head. Donna +stumbled, and collapsed to the deck. + +_Now or never_, Phillips told himself. Without waiting to think, he +hurled himself forward. + +Brecken saw him coming, and tried to shift around to meet the engineer's +charge. Phillips crashed into him shoulder first, and they both brought +up against the opposite bulkhead with a thud. He concentrated all his +strength into wringing the other's forearm until he heard the bar clang +to the deck. + +Brecken clubbed him on the side of the head with a wild left swing, and +Phillips found the big man's foot in the way when he tried to sidestep. +He lost his balance, but kept his grasp on the other so that they went +down together, thrashing about for some opening. Brecken was red-faced +with a maniacal rage. Beads of saliva sprayed from his twisted lips as +he sputtered curses. + +The engineer let go suddenly and jolted the other under the chin with +the heel of his left hand. The man arched backward, but Phillips caught +a knee in the chest that sent him slithering across the deck. As he +strove to twist to his hands and knees, he saw Brecken groping for the +bar. + +_Never reach him_, thought Phillips frantically. + +Thrusting one foot against the leg of an anchored data desk, he raised +himself half upright as he lunged desperately at Brecken. Strangely, it +occurred to Phillips for a fleeting lapse of time that old Varret had +been reasonably astute in his selections, if he desired violent-tempered +throwbacks. Then the breath was knocked out of him as he smashed into +Brecken with a force that sent them both hurtling into the bulkhead. + +The other's grunt of pain was almost lost beneath the sharp smack of +bone against metal. Phillips scrambled up hastily, but his opponent lay +still. + +Over by the data desk, Donna was beginning to squirm quietly and make +groping motions with her outstretched hands. Truesdale had retreated to +the forward end of the control room, his features blanched by +apprehension. + +_I'll bet_, thought Phillips, _that old Varret slipped up in your case, +my lad. Your reaction to violence must be what they call normal_. + +He beckoned brusquely. "Give me a hand with him," he ordered. + +Brecken still showed no sign of consciousness. Truesdale approached +warily, and with his aid Phillips lifted the unconscious man. With their +burden limp in their hands, they staggered down the corridor to one of +the sleeping compartments. There, they slung him into a bunk. + +"He needs attention," said Truesdale. + +"He won't get it from me," snapped Phillips. "Lumps on the head were his +idea; there's no time to fool with him." + +He pulled the sliding door shut, noticing that it had no lock. Since +Brecken would probably be some time recovering, however, he put that out +of his mind. + + * * * * * + +Having returned to the control room, they discovered Donna sitting up. +At the sight of them, she pulled herself somewhat shakily to a standing +position, and brushed back her blonde hair. + +"What happened?" she asked. + +"He bumped his head on the bulkhead," said Phillips shortly. + +This was accepted without comment. They turned to the instruments and +examined the dial of the range indicator. + +"They aren't very far away," said Donna quietly. "Where do you stand +now, Phillips?" + +"I suppose we'd better do it," he admitted. "Pretty vicious, aren't +you?" + +"No!" she snapped. "I don't like it either; I've never caused the death +of any human being." + +"Oh, sure. That's why you were on Luna!" + +She looked at him levelly in the eye, but her shoulders drooped a trifle +with the resignation of one who has often been disbelieved. + +"My husband was a nice guy," she murmured, "but he never did know when +he had a drink too many for piloting his jet. He passed out trying to +give me a wild ride, and I got to the controls just in time to +crash-land the rocket; that's where they found me before I came to." + +"Oh," said Phillips. + +"I'm not half as hard as I'm trying to pretend," Donna went on, "even +after a year on Luna. But I was a nurse before I was married. I'm +thinking about what it will be like if this plague hits the planets +before they find something to fight it with. The children ... imagine +that, will you?" + +Phillips stared at the range indicator. It seemed there were times when +an ugly thing had to be done for the common good. He wondered how the +old-time executioners had felt, in the days when there had been judicial +homicide. There were still jailers, for that matter, and men who +butchered cattle. + +"Call it a mercy killing," murmured Donna between pale lips. "Maybe you +think _that_ isn't still done once in a while, in spite of modern +society." + +"Ummh," Phillips grunted. "Well, if you can watch at this end, Truesdale +and I can go set up a couple of torpedoes. I hope those rocket blasts +didn't give us away." + +"According to Varret," said Truesdale, "there can't be many of them +still able to think straight enough to stand on watch. I wonder what +it's like...." + +Phillips glanced askance at him, but led the way into the corridor. +First of all, he stopped at the rocket room to check the tube readings. +The fired jets had been automatically recharged. + + * * * * * + +They left the rocket room and climbed the ladder to the turret. Once +inside, Phillips spent the first few minutes inspecting the equipment +and thumbing through the manuals left there by Varret. Finally, the +bored Truesdale broke in upon his study. + +"That old goat must be crazy to think he could toss us out here and have +us act like a trained crew. How can we even hope to do anything right, +without blowing ourselves up?" + +"We can try," said Phillips coldly. "It shouldn't be impossible to get +one started, at least." + +He found the twin control panels in the bulkhead, and pulled a pair of +switches. There was a smooth humming and a slight click as two hatches +in the deck slid open. Slanting metal chutes rose out of the dark +apertures, just behind the conveyor belts. + +"Look at those babies!" breathed Phillips. + +The snouts of two miniature spaceships protruded from the storage hold. +Phillips touched other switches, and the sleek missiles were prodded +onto the belts and moved forward until the full, twenty-foot lengths +were in view. + +"Phillips, you better be careful with those things!" quavered Truesdale +as the engineer unscrewed a small hatch on one. + +"Afraid I'll blow it up?" asked Phillips, peering inside. + +"Why not? You never touched one before." + +"You go ahead and believe that," retorted the engineer. "Now, I'll just +turn on the radio controls, check the batteries, and feed the bad news +into the launching tubes. Watch!" + +Replacing the hatch and securing it, he thought out the procedure to use +at the remote control panels. Turning on the screen above one of them +produced a cross-haired image of the bulkhead directly in front of the +near torpedo. He tried various manipulations until he had focused the +view and caused it to sweep all around the interior of the turret. After +idly watching himself and Truesdale appear on the screen, he returned +the view to dead ahead, switched it off, and turned to the other panel. + +"I guess I can finish checking," he said. + +Truesdale clambered hastily down the ladder. Phillips shook his head. +"Don't know what use he'll be," he muttered. "Too bad Brecken wouldn't +listen. He at least ... oh, well!" + +He wondered whether he himself would stand up when the time came. What +Varret had asked did not sound like much. Just a quick shot and watch +them blow apart. What inhibitions made men black out rather than carry +it through? It was not as if there were any hope for these people. +Surely, it was obvious that to permit them, in their deranged state, to +spread a catastrophic plague was inconceivable. But perhaps emotions +were stronger than reason. + +"I'll find out pretty soon," he reflected. + +There was little more to do in the turret, except to run the torpedoes +into the launching tubes and bring up a new pair in reserve. With that +much done, he closed the hatch and climbed down the ladder. + + * * * * * + +In the control room, he found Donna and Truesdale peering into the +screen. He crowded close to look over their shoulders. A small blob of +light floated near the center of the view. "That it?" he asked. + +"Yes," answered Donna. "Just enough Mars-light to show it." + +"How near are we?" asked Phillips. + +"About a hundred and fifty miles. I have quite a large magnification, +but they may spot us if they're alert. Are you ready to ... do +something?" + +"Reasonably," said Phillips. "Where's Brecken?" + +"You probably _killed_ him!" Truesdale broke in accusingly. + +"I found a first-aid kit and gave him a shot," said Donna. "He has a +nasty lump on the head, but he might sleep it off." + +Phillips was watching Truesdale. The youth was visibly nervous. Was it +the thought of Brecken, the engineer wondered, or fear of what they were +planning to do? Perhaps it would be best to clear the air now, before it +was too late. + +"I guess you can handle it here, Donna," he said. "Truesdale and I will +go to the turret and stand by." + +The youth shrank away. "No! I won't go up there again! You can't make me +do this!" + +"Do what?" demanded Phillips. + +"It's _murder_! You both know it is! They won't even have any warning." + +"I _hope_ not," said Phillips drily. "They might get _us_!" + +"You _would_ put it that way," sneered Truesdale; "you're homicidal at +heart anyway!" He turned on Donna, wiping perspiration from his +forehead. "Are you going to let him do it?" he shrilled. "Are you going +to help him commit such a crime?" + +The girl stared at him with a worried look in her blue eyes but said +nothing. + +"Come on, Truesdale," said Phillips, making an effort at a peaceful, +persuasive tone. "It will be either their lives or ours if they spot +us--and millions more if they get by. They'll be too desperate to think +of us. Do you want to die?" + +The instant he spoke the last words, he remembered the other's record +and wished he had kept quiet. He saw, a strange, wild expression creep +over Truesdale's features. It changed into a look of hateful cunning as +the youth, began to sidle toward the door. + +"_I'm_ not afraid to die!" he boasted in a low-pitched but tense voice. +"But how about you, Phillips? How about the big, brutal space engineer +who is proud of smashing men's skulls against steel walls, who would +like nothing better than to blow up a shipload of innocent people. How +do you really know they're dangerous? But you don't care, do you?" + +"Truesdale!" snapped Phillips. "Calm down!" + +"I'll calm you down with me!" shouted the other hysterically. "I'll +_show_ you who's afraid to die!" + +He ducked through the door toward which he had been backing. Phillips +lunged after him, just barely missing a grip. + +"On your toes!" he shouted over his shoulder to Donna, and turned on all +jets. + +But Truesdale, driven by his peculiar fury, not only stayed ahead as +they raced along the corridor, but actually gained. + +He was fifteen or twenty feet out in front as they reached the midway +point. Phillips, expecting him to take refuge in the rocket room, was +completely fooled when Truesdale leaped for the ladder in the vertical +well. He stumbled, and grabbed a handrail to stop himself. The other was +swarming upward. Phillips sprang to follow. + +Hardly had he climbed half a dozen rungs, however, than he saw he was +outdistanced. Truesdale's feet were already disappearing beyond the +hatchway. Phillips waited for the airtight door to slam shut. It +remained open.... + +Then a thrill of instinctive fear shot through him as he thought of what +Truesdale might do--probably was _doing_ at that very instant! + + + + +[Illustration: 4] + + +Throwing his feet clear of the rungs, he plunged back toward the deck, +guided only by his hands brushing the sides of the ladder. As Phillips +reached the junction of the passages, he kicked desperately away from +the ladder. He landed with a thump that would have hurt had he been in a +calmer state. + +Rolling over toward the control room, he came to his feet in time to +glimpse Donna looking out the doorway before a jarring shock floored him +again. + +The deafening roar of an explosion resounded in the corridor as a +brilliant light was luridly reflected from somewhere behind him. The +bewildering force hurled him at the deck; he saw he could not prevent +his head from striking-- + +Phillips found himself on hands and knees, staring stupidly at the deck +a few inches past his nose. As in a nightmare, he seemed to spend an +eternity pushing himself painfully to his feet. Clutching a handrail, he +finally made it. + +He saw Donna kneeling in the doorway, hand to head. As he watched, the +girl looked at her hand, and dazedly pulled out a handkerchief to wipe +off the blood. + +Then Phillips became aware of a high breeze in his face. Behind him, the +sound of rushing air rose to a moan, then to a shriek. That shocked him +to his senses. + +"_Button up!_" he screamed above the noise, bringing his hands together +in an urgent gesture understood by all spacemen. + +As the girl staggered to her feet, he whirled and leaped toward the +junction of the cross corridors. He wasted no time in a vain glance +upwards--he knew what Truesdale had done. Only setting off the +torpedoes' rockets in the enclosed turret compartment would have caused +an explosion just severe enough to rupture the ship's skin; if the +warheads had gone off, he never would have known it. + +Diving headlong through the opening in the deck, he experienced a +dizzying shift of gravity as he passed through the plane of the main +deck. When he had his bearings again, he scrambled "up" the ladder +toward the belly turret. By the time he got the airtight hatch open, he +was beginning to pant in the thinning air. He pulled himself through at +last, and sealed the compartment. + +Phillips sucked in a deep, luxurious breath while he glanced about. This +turret, he saw, was a duplicate of the other. He immediately located the +intercom screen and called the control room. Donna's worried face +appeared. "Where are you?" was her relieved inquiry. + +Phillips explained what had happened. "The only thing," he concluded, +"is to try it from here." + +"I think they must have spotted the flash," Donna told him. "The +instruments show a shift in their course." + +"Blast right at them!" said Phillips. "We might get away with it if +we're quick." + +He turned away, leaving the intercom on. A few quick steps took him to +the control panels in the bulkhead. Guided by his lessons in the other +turret, and by faded memories of space school on Earth, he brought up +two of the torpedoes. He checked the radio controls and ran the missiles +into their launching tubes. As he worked, with nervous sweat running +down into his eyes, he was aware of the intermittent jar of rocket +blasts. + +"Run 'em down!" he muttered, trying to steady his hand on the controls. + +He had a hand at each panel, with the torpedoes poised viciously in the +tubes, when he heard Donna's shout, shrill with excitement, over the +intercom. + +Instantly, he launched the missiles. He started the rockets by remote +control, and scanned the screens for a sight of the other vessel. + +For a moment, his view was confused by the expanding puff of air; then +that froze, and drifted back to the hull, and he could see the stars. + + * * * * * + +Donna's voice, strained but coldly controlled, came over the intercom +with readings from her instruments. He corrected his courses +accordingly. + +Then he saw the image of their target centered on one screen, so he +concentrated on steering the other missile. He made the nose yaw, but +was unable to locate anything on its screen. + +"You're sending one of them too far above, I think," Donna reported. + +"I have something wrong," he shouted. "I can't spot them at all for that +one. The jets must be out of line and shooting it in a curve." + +Nevertheless, he fired a corrective blast on the weight of the guess, +before returning his attention to the first torpedo. + +This one was right on the curve. He could see the massive hull of the +cruiser plainly now. It was almost featureless until, as he watched, +several sections seemed to slide aside. + +The screen showed him a momentary glimpse of a swarm of small, +flame-tailed objects spewing forth from one of the openings. Then the +view went dark. "Interceptor rockets with proximity fuses," he muttered. +"They'll be after us next, crazy-mean and frantic!" + +Over the intercom, he heard Donna exclaim in dismay. He caught a +fleeting sight of her face and realized that the situation must be +torture for the girl, as for himself or any normal person of their +civilization. + +Cursing himself for an optimist, he raised two more of the missiles +from the magazine. Hopping about like a jet-checker five minutes before +take-off time, he made them ready. It seemed like hours before he got +them into the launching tubes and blew them out into the void. + +Again, he watched the other vessel appear ahead of his torpedoes, this +time on both screens. Before the gap narrowed, he had a better +opportunity to see the defenses of the cruiser in action. + +A whitish cloud of gas was expelled from his target's hull, bearing a +myriad of small objects which promptly acquired a life of their own. +Both screens were filled with flashing, diverging trails of flame. +Then--nothing. + +"They're heading at us!" called Donna. "Hang on!" + +Phillips had already pulled the switches to bring up a new pair of +torpedoes. Hearing the urgency in Donna's tone, he leaped toward a rack +of spacesuits and grabbed. + + * * * * * + +The next instant, he was pinned forcibly against the rack by +acceleration, as Donna made the ship dodge aside. From one side, he +heard a screech of grating metal. The fresh missiles must have jammed +halfway out of the storage compartment. + +It gave him a weird feeling of unreality; as he hung there helplessly, +to see one of the screens on the bulkhead pick up something moving, +gleaming, metallic. + +"Donna!" he shouted hoarsely. "Let up!" + +"I don't dare," she gasped over the intercom. "I lost them, but they +were starting after us!" + +"Let up!" repeated Phillips. "They're dead ahead of that wild shot of +ours. Let me get to the controls!" + +He dropped abruptly to the deck as the acceleration vanished. One leap +carried him to the radio controls. + +The metallic gleam had swelled into a huge spaceship. The cruiser was +angling slightly away from the point from which he seemed to be viewing +it. How soon, he wondered, would they detect the presence of his +torpedo? Or would they neglect this direction, being intent upon the +destruction of those who were attempting to frustrate their mad dash for +Mars? + +Phillips stood before the screen, clenching his fists. There was, after +all, nothing for him to do but watch. The gleaming hull expanded with a +swelling rush. Details of construction, hitherto invisible, leaped out +at him. A crack finally appeared as a section began to slide back. + +This time, however, there was no blinding flare of small rockets. The +blacking out of the screen coincided with Donna's scream. "_It hit!_" + +In the silence that followed, he thought he heard a sob. + +"Oh, Phillips," she said, recovering, "we did it. They're--" + +"Hang on," said Phillips. "I'll climb into a spacesuit and come +forward." + +He switched off the intercom and dragged a suit from the rack. It took +him a good fifteen minutes to get the helmet screwed on properly and to +check everything else. He realized that he was very tired. + +He opened the exit hatch, seized the top of the ladder in his gauntlets +as the air exploded out of the turret, and climbed back to the main +deck. + +Clumping forward through the airless corridor, he stopped to look into +the compartment where he had left Brecken. He quickly slid the door shut +again. + +He found that Donna had sealed off the corridor just short of the +control room by closing a double emergency door that must have been +designed to form an airlock in just such a situation. He hammered upon +it, and she slid it open from the control desk. + +It closed again behind him, and he entered the control room through the +usual door. The girl helped him to remove the suit and motioned him +toward the screen. + + * * * * * + +Phillips regarded the scene without enthusiasm. The sight of the dead +man had reminded him of what the compartments of that other vessel must +look like by now. Its parts were beginning to scatter slowly. + +He looked at Donna, and found her regarding him soberly. "What will they +do with us now?" she asked. + +She looked exhausted. He extended an arm, and she leaned against him. +"You heard what Varret said," he told her. + +"Yes, but will he keep his word? They might be ... ashamed of us, now +that it's done. Even if they're not, I can't bear the thought of going +back to Earth and having them stare at me!" + +Phillips nodded. He remembered the morbid curiosity during his own +trial, the crowds who had watched him with a kind of shrinking +horror--and he had actually been responsible for saving a spaceship and +its crew, had they cared to look on that side of the affair. + +But he had killed. That was no longer the action of a normal human +being, according to popular thinking. + +"I guess you and I are the only ones who will understand one another +from now on," he shrugged. + +Donna smiled faintly, just as the signal sounded on the communication +screen. + +It was Varret, looking pale and strained. He listened to Phillips' +account, including the deaths of Truesdale and Brecken, and apologized +for his appearance. He had, he informed them, been unpleasantly ill when +he had seen the explosion. "It was a terrible thing," Varret continued +sadly, "but necessary. They were beyond reasoning with, and a deadly +menace." + +He pulled himself together and tried to hide his agitation by reminding +them of his promise. He suggested that they consider their requests +while his ship attempted to tow them in to Deimos. + +Phillips glanced speculatively at Donna. They would be two outcasts, +however much their deed might be respected abstractly, however much +official expressions of gratitude were employed to gloss over the fact. +He might as well take one chance more. "We have already decided," he +said boldly. "I hear you are building a new space station on Deimos." + +The old man nodded, surprised. + +"We will ask for a deed to that moon, and a contract to operate the +beacon and radio relay station," Phillips stated flatly. + +Varret blinked, then smiled slightly in a sort of understanding +admiration. + +"Reasonable and astute," he murmured after a moment's hesitation. "I +think I appreciate the motive. Perhaps, if that ship can be repaired and +remodeled, we can include it so that you may make short visits to Mars." + +He warned them to watch for the emergency crew he would send to their +aid, and switched off. + +Phillips then dared finally to turn and look inquiringly at Donna. Her +smile was relaxed for the first time since they had met. "Nice +bargaining," she said, and Phillips felt like the king of something +larger than a tiny Martian satellite. + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _Future combined with Science Fiction + Stories_ September 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any + evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. + Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without + note. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's This World Must Die!, by Horace Brown Fyfe + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THIS WORLD MUST DIE! *** + +***** This file should be named 23102.txt or 23102.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/1/0/23102/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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