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diff --git a/29822.txt b/29822.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..634ecf5 --- /dev/null +++ b/29822.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1013 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rescue Squad, by Thomas J. O'Hara + +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: Rescue Squad + +Author: Thomas J. O'Hara + +Release Date: August 27, 2009 [EBook #29822] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RESCUE SQUAD *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + _When Mr. O'Hara won the prize story contest recently conducted by + THE FANTASY WRITERS' WORKSHOP at the College of the City of New + York, in conjunction with FANTASTIC UNIVERSE, it was the unanimous + opinion of the judges that a second story by Mr. O'Hara, RESCUE + SQUAD, deserved honorable mention. We think you'll agree with that + decision when you've read this documentary-type science-fiction + yarn, which so excitingly combines realistic characterization with + the mystery, suspense and terror of the near future's exploration of + space and a lone pilot's struggle to survive._ + + + rescue + squad + + _by ... Thomas J. O'Hara_ + + + Stark disaster to a brave lad in space may--to the + mind that loves--be a tragedy pridefully concealed. + + +The mail ship, MR4, spun crazily through space a million miles off her +trajectory. Her black-painted hull resembled a long thermonuclear +weapon, and below her and only a scant twenty million miles away burned +the hungry, flaming maw of the Sun. + +The atomic-powered refrigeration units of the MR4 were working full +blast--and still her internal and external temperatures were slowly and +inexorably rising. Her atomic engines had been long since +silenced--beaten by the inexhaustible, fiery strength of the invincible +opponent waiting patiently a narrowing twenty million miles "below." + +Hal Burnett twisted painfully on the narrow space-bunk, his tormented +body thrusting desperately against the restraining bands of the safety +straps that lashed him in against the dangers of non-gravity. + +He moaned, and twisted sideways, while his half-asleep mind struggled on +an almost instinctive level against a dimly-remembered, utterly +intolerable reality. + +It was a losing battle. He was suddenly wide awake, staring in horror at +the vibrating bulkheads of the deserted little mail ship. For a moment +his conscious barriers against reality were so completely down that he +felt mortally terrified and overwhelmed by the vast emptiness about him. +For a moment the mad idea swept into his mind that perhaps the universe +was just another illusion, an echo of man's own inner loneliness. + +Realizing his danger, Burnett quickly undid the restraining safety +straps, sat up and propelled himself outward from the edge of his bunk. +The sudden surge of physical action swept the cobwebs from his mind. + +He thought of his father--and there was bitterness in his heart and +frustration, and a rebellious, smouldering anger. The old man would +never know how close he had come to cracking up. + +For a moment he wondered fearfully if his father's cold and precise +appraisal of his character and courage had been correct. Suppose he +_was_ unable to stand the rigid strains and pressures of a real +emergency. Suppose-- He tightened his lips in defiant self-justification. +What did they expect of a twenty-year-old kid anyway? He was, after all, +the youngest and probably the greenest mail pilot in the entire +Universal Run. + +Suddenly the defensive barriers his mind had thrown up against the +grievous flaw in his character, which made him feel uncertain of himself +when he should have felt strong and capable, crumbled away completely. +He could no longer pretend, no longer deceive himself. He hated his +father because the elder Burnett had never known a moment of profound +self-distrust in his entire life. + +He remembered his father's favorite line of reasoning with a sudden, +overwhelming resentment. "Fear can and must be controlled. If you have +your objective clearly in mind a new experience, no matter how +hazardous, will quickly become merely a routine obstacle to be +surmounted, a yardstick by which a man can measure his own maturity and +strength of purpose. You'll find peace of mind in doing your work ably +and well and by ignoring all danger to yourself." + +It was so easy to say, so hard to live up to. How, for instance, could a +twenty-year-old kid on his _first_ mail run hope to completely outwit +fatigue, or even forget, for a single moment, that it _was_ his first +run. Fatigue had caused his undoing, but had he been completely fearless +he might have found a way to save himself, might have managed somehow to +prevent the small, navigational errors from piling up until they had +carried him past the point of no return. + +A constant re-checking of every one of his instruments might have saved +him. But he had been too terrified to think straight, and too ashamed +of his "first-run" inexperience to send out a short wave message +requesting emergency instructions and advice. Now he was hopelessly off +his course and it was too late. Too late! + +He could almost feel the steadily-growing pull of his mindless enemy in +the distant sky. Floating and kicking his way over to the Tele-screen, +he quickly switched the instrument on. Rotating the control dials, he +brought the blinding white image of the onrushing solar disk into +perfect focus. Automatically he adjusted the two superimposed polaroid +filters until the proper amount of light was transmitted to his viewing +screen. They really built ships and filters these days, he reflected +wryly. Now if they could only form a rescue squad just as easily-- + +Even through the viewing screen he could almost feel the hot blast of +white light hit his face with the physical impact of a baseball bat. +With what was almost a whimper of suppressed fear he rocked backward on +his heels. + +The Sun's ghastly prominences seemed to reach beckoning fingers toward +him, as its flood of burning, radiant light seared through the +incalculable cold of space, and its living corona of free electrons and +energy particles appeared to swell and throb menacingly. + +Fearfully he watched the flaming orb draw closer and closer, and as its +pull grew more pronounced he wondered if it were not, in some +nightmarishly fantastic fashion becoming malignantly aware of him. It +resembled nothing so much as a great festering sore; an infection of the +very warp-and-woof stuff of space. + +He flipped off the power control on the Tele-screen and watched the +image fade away with a depleted whine of dying energy. That incandescent +inferno out there-- Grimly he tried to recall the name of the man who +had said that, philosophically, energy is not actually a real thing at +all. + +He knew better than to waste time trying the pilot controls again. They +were hopelessly jammed by the great magnetic attraction of the Sun. They +had been jammed for hours now. He forced his way back to his bunk, and +securely lashed himself to it again. Sleep was his only hope now, his +only real escape from the growing, screaming hysteria within him. + +He flung an arm across his tired face. His thin features trembled as he +remembered the continuous alterations in his trajectory that had brought +him within range of the Sun's mighty pull. He remembered also every +detail of the last and gravest of the series of miscalculations that had +swept him from the established route of the regular Venus-Mercury mail +run, and threatened him with a violent, flaming end. + +Greatly off course, he had been approaching Mercury, a routine +thirty-six million miles from the Sun. On this, the final leg of his +long journey, he had deviated just far enough from the extreme limits of +safety to find himself and his ship gripped inexorably in the mighty +magnetic fields of the Sun's passage.... + +He remembered a name-- Josephine. + +There would be no lover's meeting now on the green fields of Earth in +the dusk of a summer evening. There would be no such meeting now. Not +unless the prayers and dreams a boy and a girl had shared had followed +him, plunging senselessly into the cold glacial heart of interstellar +space. + +His false bravado began to break and he began to weep quietly. He began +to wish with all his heart that he had never left home. + +The sudden crackling of the almost static-jammed ultra-wave radio +snapped through to his mind. Quickly he began to free himself from the +bunk. + +"MR4, come in, MR4." + +An eternity seemed to pass as he floated across the room, deliberately +disregarding the strategically-placed hand-grips on the walls, floor, +and ceiling. It seemed aeons before he reached the narrow little control +compartment, and got the ultra-wave radio into action, nearly wrecking +it in his clumsy-fingered haste. + +"MR4 to Earth. Over." + +He waited a few moments and then repeated the message as no +acknowledgment came through. Then he abruptly remembered the nearby +presence of the Sun and its interference with radio transmission and +reception. He was white and shaken by the time his message was received +and his report requested and given. + +He gave the whole tragic picture in frantic short wave. The amount of +atomic fuel left in the ship, the internal and external temperatures, +the distance from the Sun, and the strength of the solar disk's magnetic +field and his rate of drift toward it--along with a staggering list of +other pertinent factors. + +At last it was over and he stood by awaiting the decision from Earth +headquarters. + +It came at last. + +"MR4." The growling voice was Donnelly's, the huge space-engineer in +charge of the smaller mail-rocket units. "You're in a tough spot but +we've got an expert here from the Government. He's worked on deals like +this with me before and he's got an idea. + +"Here's the substance of it. We're going to send out a space tug from +Mercury to see if we can haul you in. It's a new, experimental tug and +it's been kept under wraps until now. But it's been designed for jobs +like this and we figure it can sure as hell do it. + +"There's just one hitch, though, kid. It's a mighty powerful ship so +there's going to be a terrific shock when it contacts you and the +magnetic grapples set to work. In your medicine kit you'll find a small +hypo in a red-sealed plastic box. Take the shot that's in it +immediately and we'll have the tug out there as soon as we can. It will +probably take about twelve hours." + +Donnelly's voice broke and he hesitated strangely for a moment. "You'll +be out fast," he went on. "So you won't feel a thing when the shock wave +hits you. There's less chance of injuries, this way." + + * * * * * + +"It's a lousy thing to do," cried Donnelly as he snapped off the set. "A +rotten, heartless way of giving the lad false hopes. But then you don't +give a damn about anybody's feelings but your own, do you, Doc?" + +"Take it easy, Joe--" + +"Shut up, Williams. I'm talking to this little Government time-server +over here, not to you." + +The psychiatrist shrugged wearily. "I don't care what you think. I've +worked with you both on cases similar to this before, though I'll admit +that none of them were quite as hopeless. In any case, I'll do it my +way, or not at all." + +"Maybe you will, maybe you will," said Donnelly. "But if I had to wait +thirty days in that thing and somebody told me it was only a matter of +hours--" + +"I know what I'm doing even if you think that I don't. The Government +has developed a set approach in matters like this. Fortunately, there +aren't many of them. Perhaps if there were--" + +"Let me take over, Doc," broke in Donnelly. "I'm a space-engineer and +that makes me far better qualified to handle this than you are. Why the +hell they ever put a psychiatrist on this job in the first place is +something I'll never know, if I live to be a hundred and ten. It's a job +for an engineer, not a brain washer." + +"There's a lot of things you'll never know, Donnelly," the gaunt, thin +little man sighed wearily. He sat down at the long mahogany table in the +Radio Room. With a careless wave of one arm, he swept a pile of papers +and magazines to the floor. + +"Try and get this through your head, Donnelly. There's not too much you +can do by yourself for that boy up there. You just don't know how to +cope with the psychological intangibles. That's why they have me +here--so that we could work together as a team. + +"Now the sooner you get on that radio and follow my instructions for the +pilot the sooner we'll get this over with. Then maybe I can go home and +spend a hundred years trying to forget about it. Until then please try +and keep your personal opinions to yourself. Please." + +Donnelly's face flushed a still deeper red. His fists clenched and, as a +muscle started to twitch warningly in his cheek, he started to get up. +He stopped for a moment--frozen in silence. Then he relaxed and pushed +back his chair. With a heavy sigh, he maneuvered his huge bear of a body +to its feet. + +He rumbled something disgustedly in his throat and then spat casually on +the floor. "Williams," he thundered. "Get the hell out of here and get +us some coffee." + +He waited a moment until the only witness had left the room and then, +with grim determination, he turned to the little psychiatrist seated at +the table. + +"You, Doc," he said coldly and with deliberate malice, "are a dirty, +unclean little--" + + * * * * * + +Williams, when he eased his slight body through the door a few minutes +later, found a suspicious scene. The little doctor, his face flushed and +rage-twisted, his effortless and almost contemptuous composure shaken +for once, was on his feet. Speechless, he faced the grinning +space-engineer who was waving a huge and warning finger in his face. + +"Easy, Doc," Donnelly roared in a friendly voice. "I might take +advantage of it if you keep on giving me a good excuse. Then where would +all your psychiatry and your fine overlording manners get you?" + +"Joe," yelled Williams in explosive sudden fright. "Leave him alone. +You're liable to have the Government Police down on us." + +"Sure, Williams. The police and the newspapers too. They'd just love to +have the taxpayers find out what they're doing to those kids out in deep +space. What would they call it, Doc? Just an interesting psychological +experiment? Is that what it's meant to be, eh, Doc?" + +He chuckled suddenly as the little doctor flinched under his virulent +attack. "I really hit the spot that time, didn't I, Doc? So that's what +the Government's so scared and hush-hush about. They're really scared to +hell and back, aren't they? I wonder what's really going on behind all +this?" + +He leaned forward, suddenly roaring and ferocious. "Why are Williams and +I followed everywhere we go when we leave here? To see who we talk to? +Is that the way of it? Why do quite a few of the ships you and I and +Williams have rescued in the past few years never show up again? Just +where are they? I don't see them reported missing in the newspapers, +either." + +He leaned back in exhausted satisfaction at the look on the little +doctor's face. "Yeah, Doc, the only way to get anything out of you is to +blast it out, isn't it?" + +Pale and frightened, Williams hurried across the room to the table and, +with shaky hands, took out three containers of coffee from the paper bag +and passed them out. + +Nobody bothered to thank him. + +The hidden tension in the room had begun to mount steadily, so Donnelly +helped it out a little. + +"Is this the first time you've ever been on the defensive, Doc?" he +asked. + +Williams jumped in before the explosion. "When will the rocket get to +the kid's ship, Doctor?" he asked. + +"In about thirty days," the little man answered, coldly and +deliberately. + +Williams blinked in surprise. "Good Lord," he said. "I thought it was +supposed to be in twelve hours or so?" + +"That's the whole point," snapped Donnelly. "That's what I'm so fighting +mad about. Think of it yourself, Williams. Suppose you had a son or a +brother up there, how would you feel about this whole infernal, lying +business? + +"I don't get it," he went on. "I just don't get the big central idea +behind it. Don't all these tugs we send out ever get there? First they +tell the kid he'll have his life saved in twelve hours or so. Then they +get him to take a shot so his mind won't crack up while he's waiting. + +"Now they know very well the shot won't last for thirty days. If it did +he'd starve to death. So what have they accomplished? Nothing. As a +matter of fact they've made things worse instead of better. What's going +to happen to that poor kid when he wakes up in twelve hours and finds +out he still has to wait for thirty more days? What's going to happen to +him then, Doc? Don't you think that kid will really go off his rocker +for sure?" + +Donnelly and Williams both looked at the little psychiatrist. He sat +again at his former place at the table, white and shaken. His face was +once again buried in one hand. + +"Come on, Doc," whispered Williams, quietly. "What's going on here, +anyway?" + +"That's enough," cried the doctor, suddenly. He sprang up and strode +toward the door. "Leave me alone," he exclaimed, almost in tears. "By +heaven, I've had enough of this. I've had all I can stand." + +Donnelly moved to block the door and the psychiatrist came abruptly to a +halt. "That ain't enough, Doc. You get out after you talk." + +"For God's sake, Joe." + +"Shut up, Williams, I'm warning you for the last time." + +"Let me by. I warn you, Donnelly. Let me by." + +Williams moved in, regaining a sudden spurt of assurance. "What about +that kid up there, Doc? Nobody's letting him by, are they, Doc?" + +A look of utter weariness swept across the doctor's face. + +"All right," he said. "You may as well know the truth then. You won't +like or understand it, but here it is anyway. You see, there isn't any +tug up there, experimental or otherwise. There was only our need for a +good excuse--in this present case--to get him to take the drug. You're a +space-engineer and a good one, Donnelly. That's why you were chosen for +this job. If anybody could help those kids, you could." + +Donnelly's face tightened warningly and the doctor hurried on. "You +would have known about it if there had been any experimental models +developed even if they had been secret. As a matter of fact, with your +standing, you would probably have been working on them." + +"Why all this, then, Doc? Why?" + +"Because," the little doctor hesitated--and then shrugged. "I may as +well tell you. It's not going to make any difference now, anyway. It was +all done to put him out for several hours until--" + +"Until what, Doc?" Donnelly's tone was harsh and uncompromising. + +"You must understand that I'm under orders. I'm doing what is done in +all these cases. Though heaven help me, I wish I didn't have to--" + +"Doc," Donnelly roared. "You have been contradicting yourself all along +and I intend to find out why." + +"There isn't much more to find out.... Wait." + +The doctor strode quickly over to the radio, and glanced at his +wristwatch. His face haggard with strain, he turned to Williams. "Will +you contact the MR4, please?" + +He held up a silencing hand to Donnelly. "There's a reason behind all +this. Just wait for a moment, please. Just wait and listen--" + + * * * * * + +It was a fumbling-fingered ten minutes later, after Donnelly had signed +off, that Hal Burnett finally found the tiny red plastic box in the +little emergency medical kit. Trembling he held it in his hand as he +floated in free fall. + +It was a little red key--a key to Earth, to life and to the chance to +ram every cold, precise, contemptuous word down his father's +over-analytical mouth. + +He didn't really hate the old man but he knew that he feared him. He +feared also that his father might be right about him after all. Who in +his own mind, he thought bitterly, should know a son better than that +son's own father. + +A quick surge of elation swept over him as he swam quickly to the +Tele-screen and switched it on. It wasn't a bit like saying good-bye to +an old friend, he thought, as he gazed at the flaming prominences not so +far below him. After a while he switched the instrument off and swam +triumphantly back to his bunk. + +There were some tri-dimensional color slides in the ditty bag hanging by +his bunk. He took them out and looked at them. None of them were of his +father. + +The girl was there, though. She was a small, cute girl with a rainbow of +laughter wreathed about her. She hadn't been really important before, +but she sure was important now that he was going to live. His old man +had foretold that, too. + +After a little while he put the slides back in the portable holder and +broke open the plastic box. It contained a gleaming hypo filled with +what looked like a small quantity of water. There was an odd +peppermint-like odor about it. + +There were no instructions. Just the needle and the little red box. + +He wondered how many hours he would have to wait before help would come. +But that didn't matter. He would be asleep, anyway. + +The temperature had climbed. It was burning, roaring hot. + +Gently he slid the needle into his arm and depressed the plunger.... + + * * * * * + +The MR4 continued to spin even more lazily in space. Her sun-blackened +hull, pitted by the glancing blows of by-passing meteor fragments, was +slowly overheating. Her refrigeration units were gradually breaking down +under their tremendous overload. + +She was inching in ever-shortening circles always in the direction of +the massive, molten globe not so far below.... + +Sometime later, Hal Burnett awakened slowly, as if from some distant and +dimly-remembered dream. The haze of a deep and foggy sleep clung to the +unfamiliar mass that was his mind. + +A distant alarm bell had rung deep within the primitive, subcortical +levels of his brain. It had rung--but not loudly nor insistently enough. +It had failed to cut through the eddying fog that was rising slowly into +his ebbing consciousness. + +He did not remember undoing the straps with benumbed and aching fingers. +He did not remember the befogged and stumbling "walk" into the Control +Room. Dimly, as if viewing himself and the room from a distant world, he +switched on the dying hum of the radio and tried futilely to transmit a +message. + +The faint crackle of the radio grew more distant. He slumped forward in +the bucket seat, his head striking the controls in front of him--and, +for him, the sounds of the muted radio died out completely. + +The burning heat seared into the metal hull of the MR4. Its outer hull +was almost at the boiling point. Inside, it was a burning, suffocating +hell. Perhaps it was the heat that aroused Hal Burnett once again. +Somehow he managed to stumble to the Tele-screen. With the last vestige +of a waning strength, he managed to switch it on and hold himself erect. + +The stupendous white blast of the Sun struck across his staring eyes, +but he did not flinch. Unconscious, his hands clutched at the control +knobs as his sagging legs let him drift weightlessly toward the floor. +He was like a drowning swimmer, out of control and helplessly floating +under water. + +He seemed to become aware for a moment as a last flicker of +consciousness crossed his mind. He mouthed something unintelligible--a +last, forgotten word. + +Anchored only by his grip on the control knobs, his weightless body +floated aimlessly in the almost steaming cabin as the awful stillness +re-echoed throughout the hollow vault of the ship. + +Down below, with ever-growing closeness, the Sun waited patiently, like +a bright and hovering vulture. + +The MR4 swung and pivoted gently like a ship at sea straining at its +anchor in the first, fresh breezes of a gathering storm. For a moment it +seemed to hesitate like a coy maiden on the verge of some unknown +threshold. Then, abruptly, she climaxed her voyage and plunged directly +toward the waiting Sun some twenty million miles below, carrying with +her only her dead cargo; her pilot-- + + * * * * * + +The radio crackled noisily after Hal Burnett's last incoherent +transmission. It crackled aimlessly for a few moments--and then was +still. + +"Something's wrong," said Williams, a thin thread of moisture shining +down his face. "Something's gone wrong up there!" + +"It sure has," said Donnelly, quietly. "And I know who I'm going to ask +about it." + +The little doctor said nothing. His face was an embittered parchment +mask. "It's happened. God help me. It's happened. He's gone," he +muttered, almost inaudibly. + +Donnelly sighed heavily, a look almost of defeat sweeping momentarily +across his features. "See here, Doc," he said exhaustedly. "Don't be so +heartless about people. You've got a son of your own in space, so you +ought to understand how other people feel. What kind of a father would +do a thing like this to another man's son anyway?" + +"Look, Donnelly," said the little man with bitter weariness. "Do me a +favor will you? You fill out the reports tonight. Somehow or other I +just don't feel up to it." + +"Maybe it's your conscience," said Donnelly, sarcastically. "But I'll be +damned if I'll do it for you. You don't like to do your own dirty work, +do you, Doc? I thought you just loved to fill out Government reports." + +"Donnelly, Donnelly," cried the doctor in sudden anguish. "Can't you +understand yet. Even an undertaker's job is unpleasant but somebody's +got to do it. Don't you see yet? _It has to be done!_" + +With a muffled groan of disgust, Donnelly sprang to the radio once +again, pushing Williams roughly aside. Futilely, and in desperation he +strained at the controls for a moment and then, with a roar of fury, he +turned back to the doctor. + +"Now see here, Doc--" he thundered, and then stopped in amazement. + +The door to the dim and ill-lighted outer hallway of the lab was +standing open. And at the far end, the outer door was quietly closing +behind the disappearing figure of the bent-shouldered little man. + +Donnelly started to spring after him, and then abruptly stopped. His +huge figure slumped in sudden despairing futility as he recognized the +tragic hopelessness of the situation. + +"Let him go," rasped Williams. "There's nothing we can do now anyway, +Joe." + +"Yeah, yeah. Let's write the report up ourselves. That's real important, +you know. The Government needs it." + +He sat down at the typewriter, his heavy features twisted in hopeless +bitterness and anger. He started typing, and then stopped for a moment. + +"What was this kid pilot's full name, Williams?" + +Williams checked the Government order sheet. "Hell," he said. +"Strangely, it's the same as the doctor's, Dr. Alfred Burnett. Only the +kid's name is Harold Burnett." + +Donnelly sat, suddenly transfixed, staring at his typewriter. A peculiar +look flashed across his face. Then he shook his massive head in an +unbelieving gesture of agonized understanding. + +"Hell, no," he muttered to himself. "It couldn't be. It just couldn't +be. It just isn't possible. Burnett! _Burnett!_" + +Swiftly he was on his feet and moving through the door after the +vanished figure of the little doctor, his face a mask of grim remorse. + +"It was merciful," he muttered. "Yes, it _was_ merciful. It was the only +thing Doc Burnett could have done." + +Williams stared after Donnelly's disappearing figure in frank and +open-mouthed amazement. + +"Hey, Joe," he yelled. "Where the hell are you going?" + +The outer door slammed shut on the departing echo of his words. "Well, +I'll be hung for an ugly son!" he muttered to himself. "Nobody makes +sense around this place, any more." + +He shrugged half to himself and then began to type out the rest of the +report. + +"I don't get it," he mumbled to himself. "I just don't get it at all. +There's no logic in it." + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ September 1955. + 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. Although + _polaroid_ appears as originally printed, given the lack of a + capital letter, it may be a printer's error for _polarized_. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rescue Squad, by Thomas J. 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