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diff --git a/23102.txt b/23102.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1b62ce8 --- /dev/null +++ b/23102.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1506 @@ +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: 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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