Sentinels relocatedHEADmain

1 files changed, 402 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/58733-0.txt b/58733-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6edffb1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/58733-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,402 @@
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58733 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                           SPATIAL DELIVERY
+
+                          BY RANDALL GARRETT
+
+                  _Women on space station assignments
+              shouldn't get pregnant. But there's a first
+               time for everything. Here's the story of
+              such a time----and an historic situation._
+
+           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
+              Worlds of If Science Fiction, October 1954.
+         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
+         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
+
+
+One thousand seventy-five miles above the wrinkled surface of Earth, a
+woman was in pain.
+
+There, high in the emptiness of space, Space Station One swung in its
+orbit. Once every two hours, the artificial satellite looped completely
+around the planet, watching what went on below. Outside its bright
+steel hull was the silence of the interplanetary vacuum; inside, in the
+hospital ward, Lieutenant Alice Britton clutched at the sheets of her
+bed in pain, then relaxed as it faded away.
+
+Major Banes looked at her and smiled a little. "How do you feel,
+Lieutenant?"
+
+She smiled back; she knew the pain wouldn't return for a few minutes
+yet. "Fine, doctor. It's no worse than I was expecting. How long will
+it before we can contact White Sands?"
+
+The major looked nervously at his wristwatch. "Nearly an hour. You'll
+be all right."
+
+"Certainly," she agreed, running a hand through her brown hair, "I'll
+be okay. Just you be on tap when I call."
+
+The major's grin broadened. "You don't think I'd miss a historical
+event like this, do you? You take it easy. We're over Eastern Europe
+now, but as soon as we get within radio range of New Mexico, I'll beam
+a call in." He paused, then repeated, "You just take it easy. Call the
+nurse if anything happens." Then he turned and walked out of the room.
+
+Alice Britton closed her eyes. Major Banes was all smiles and cheer
+now, but he hadn't been that way five months ago. She chuckled softly
+to herself as she thought of his blistering speech.
+
+"Lieutenant Britton, you're either careless or brainless; I don't
+know which! Your husband may be the finest rocket jockey in the Space
+Service, but that doesn't give him the right to come blasting up here
+on a supply rocket just to get you pregnant!"
+
+Alice had said: "I'm sure the thought never entered his mind, doctor. I
+know it never entered mine."
+
+"But that was two and a half months ago! Why didn't you come to
+me before this? Of all the tom-fool--" His voice had died off in
+suppressed anger.
+
+"I didn't know," she had said stolidly. "You know my medical record."
+
+"I know. I know." A puzzled frown had come over his face then, a frown
+which almost hid the green eyes that contrasted so startlingly with the
+flaming red of his hair. "The question is: what do we do next? We're
+not equipped for obstetrics up here."
+
+"Send me back down to Earth, of course."
+
+And he had looked up at her scathingly. "Lieutenant Britton, it is
+my personal opinion that you need your head examined, and not by a
+general practitioner, either! Why, I wouldn't let you get into an
+airplane, much less land on Earth in a rocket! If you think I'd permit
+you to subject yourself to eight gravities of acceleration in a rocket
+landing, you're daffy!"
+
+She hadn't thought of it before, but the major was right. The terrible
+pressure of a rocket landing would increase her effective body weight
+to nearly half a ton; an adult human being couldn't take that sort of
+punishment for long, much less the tiny life that was growing within
+her.
+
+So she had stayed on in the Space Station, doing her job as always.
+As Chief Radar Technician, she was important in the operation of the
+station. Her pregnancy had never made her uncomfortable; the slow
+rotation of the wheel-shaped station about its axis gave an effective
+gravity at the rim only half that of Earth's surface, and the closer to
+the hub she went, the less her weight became.
+
+According to the major, the baby was due sometime around the first of
+September. "Two hundred and eighty days," he had said. "Luckily, we can
+pinpoint it almost exactly. And at a maximum of half of Earth gravity,
+you shouldn't weigh more than seventy pounds then. You're to report to
+me at least once a week, Lieutenant."
+
+As the words went through her mind, another spasm of pain hit her, and
+she clenched her fists tightly on the sheets again. It went away, and
+she took a deep breath.
+
+Everything had been fine until today. And then, only half an hour ago,
+a meteor had hit the radar room. It had been only a tiny bit of rock,
+no bigger than a twenty-two bullet, and it hadn't been traveling more
+than ten miles per second, but it had managed to punch its way through
+the shielding of the station.
+
+The self-sealing walls had closed the tiny hole quickly, but even in
+that short time, a lot of air had gone whistling out into the vacuum of
+space.
+
+The depressurization hadn't hurt her too much, but the shock had been
+enough to start labor. The baby was going to come two months early.
+
+She relaxed a little more, waiting for the next pain. There was nothing
+to worry about; she had absolute faith in the red-haired major.
+
+The major himself was not so sure. He sat in his office, massaging his
+fingertips and looking worriedly at the clock on the wall.
+
+The Chief Nurse at a nearby desk took off her glasses and looked at him
+speculatively. "Something wrong, doctor?"
+
+"Incubator," he said, without taking his eyes off the clock.
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+"Incubator. We can't deliver a seven-month preemie without an
+incubator."
+
+The nurse's eyes widened. "Good Lord! I never thought of that! What are
+you going to do?"
+
+"Right now, I can't do anything. I can't beam a radio message through
+to the Earth. But as soon as we get within radio range of White Sands,
+I'll ask them to send up an emergency rocket with an incubator. But--"
+
+"But what?"
+
+"Will we have time? The pains are coming pretty fast now. It will be at
+least three hours before they can get a ship up here. If they miss us
+on the next time around, it'll be five hours. She can't hold out that
+long."
+
+The Chief Nurse turned her eyes to the slowly moving second hand of the
+wall clock. She could feel a lump in her throat.
+
+Major Banes was in the Communications Center a full five minutes
+before the coastline of California appeared on the curved horizon of
+the globe beneath them. He had spent the hour typing out a complete
+report of what had happened to Alice Britton and a list of what he
+needed. He handed it to the teletype operator and paced the floor
+impatiently as he waited for the answer.
+
+When the receiver teletype began clacking softly, he leaned over the
+page, waiting anxiously for every word.
+
+    WHITE SANDS ROCKET BASE 4 JULY 1984 0913 HRS URGENT TO: MAJ PETER
+    BANES (MC) 0-266118 SS-1 MEDICAL OFFICER FROM: GEN DAVID BARRETT
+    0-199515 COMMANDING WSRB ROCKET. ORBIT NOW BEING COMPUTED FOR
+    RENDEZVOUS WITH SS-1 AS OF NEXT PASSAGE ABOVE USA. CAPT. JAMES
+    BRITTON PILOTING. MEDICS LOADING SHIP TWELVE WITH INCUBATOR AND
+    OTHER SUPPLIES. BASE OBSTETRICIAN LT COL GATES ALSO COMING TO
+    ASSIST IN DELIVERY. HANG ON. OVER.
+
+Banes nodded and turned to the operator. "I want a direct open
+telephone line to my office in case I have to get another message to
+the base before we get out of range again."
+
+He turned and left through the heavy door. Each room of the space
+station was protected by airtight doors and individual heating units;
+if some accident, such as a really large meteor hit, should release the
+air from one room, nearby rooms would be safe.
+
+Banes' next stop was the hospital ward.
+
+Alice Britton was resting quietly, but there were lines of strain
+around her eyes which hadn't been there an hour before.
+
+"How's it coming, Lieutenant?"
+
+She smiled, but another spasm hit her before she could answer. After a
+time, she said: "I'm doing fine, but you look as if you'd been through
+the mill. What's eating you?"
+
+He forced a nervous smile. "Nothing but the responsibility. You're
+going to be a very famous woman, you know. You'll be the mother of the
+first child born in space. And it's my job to see to it that you're
+both all right."
+
+She grinned. "Another Dr. Dafoe?"
+
+"Something on that order, I suppose. But it won't be all my glory.
+Colonel Gates, the O.B. man, was supposed to come up for the delivery
+in September, so when White Sands contacted us, they said he was coming
+immediately." He paused, and a genuine smile crossed his face. "Your
+husband is bringing him up."
+
+"Jim! Coming up here? Wonderful! But I'm afraid the colonel will be too
+late. This isn't going to last that long."
+
+Banes had to fight hard to keep his face smiling when she said that,
+but he managed an easy nod. "We'll see. Don't hurry it, though. Let
+nature take its course. I'm not such a glory hog that I'd not let Gates
+have part of it--or all of it, for that matter. Relax and take it easy."
+
+He went on talking, trying to keep the conversation light, but his eyes
+kept wandering to his wristwatch, timing Alice's pain intervals. They
+were coming too close together to suit him.
+
+There was a faint rap, and the heavy airtight door swung open to admit
+the Chief Nurse. "There's a message for you in your office, doctor.
+I'll send a nurse in to be with her."
+
+He nodded, then turned back to Alice. "Stiff uppah lip, and all that
+sort of rot," he said in a phony British accent.
+
+"Oh, raw_ther_, old chap," she grinned.
+
+Back in his office, Banes picked up the teletype flimsy.
+
+    WHITE SANDS ROCKET BASE 4 JULY 1984 0928 HRS URGENT TO: MAJ PETER
+    BANES (MC) 0-266118 SS-1 MEDICAL OFFICER FROM: GEN DAVID BARRETT
+    0-199515 COMMANDING WSRB ROCKET. ORBIT COMPUTED FOR RENDEZVOUS AT
+    1134 HRS MST. CAPT BRITTON SENDS PERSONAL TO LT BRITTON AS FOLLOWS:
+    HOLD THE FORT, BABY, THE WHOLE WORLD IS PRAYING FOR YOU. OUT.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Banes sat on the edge of his desk, pounding a fist into the palm of
+his left hand. "Two hours. It isn't soon enough. She'll never hold out
+that long. And we don't have an incubator." His voice was a clipped
+monotone, timed with the rhythmic slamming of his fist.
+
+The Chief Nurse said: "Can't we build something that will do until the
+rocket gets here?"
+
+Banes looked at her, his face expressionless. "What would we build it
+out of? There's not a spare piece of equipment in the station. It costs
+money to ship material up here, you know. Anything not essential is
+left on the ground."
+
+The phone rang. Banes picked it up and identified himself.
+
+The voice at the other end said: "This is Communications, Major. I tape
+recorded all the monitor pickups from the Earth radio stations, and it
+looks as though the Space Service has released the information to the
+public. Lieutenant Britton's husband was right when he said the whole
+world's praying for her. Do you want to hear the tapes?"
+
+"Not now, but thanks for the information." He hung up and looked into
+the Chief Nurse's eyes. "They've released the news to the public."
+
+She frowned. "That really puts you on the spot. If the baby dies,
+they'll blame you."
+
+Banes slammed his fist to the desk. "Do you think I give a tinker's dam
+about that? I'm interested in saving a life, not in worrying about what
+people may think!"
+
+"Yes, sir. I just thought--"
+
+"Well, think about something useful! Think about how we're going to
+save that baby!" He paused as he saw her eyes. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant.
+My nerves are all raw, I guess. But, dammit, my field is space
+medicine. I can handle depressurization, space sickness, and things
+like that, but I don't know anything about babies! I know what I read
+in medical school, and I watched a delivery once, but that's all I
+know. I don't even have any references up here; people aren't supposed
+to go around having babies on a space station!"
+
+"It's all right, doctor. Shall I prepare the delivery room?"
+
+His laugh was hard and short. "Delivery room! I wish to Heaven we had
+one! Prepare the ward room next to the one she's in now, I guess. It's
+the best we have.
+
+"So help me Hannah, I'm going to see some changes made in regulations!
+A situation like this won't happen again!"
+
+The nurse left quietly. She knew Banes wasn't really angry at the
+Brittons; it was simply his way of letting off steam to ease the
+tension within him.
+
+The slow, monotonous rotation of the second hand on the wall clock
+seemed to drag time grudgingly along with it. Banes wished he could
+smoke to calm his raw nerves, but it was strictly against regulations.
+Air was too precious to be used up by smoking. Every bit of air on
+board had had to be carried up in rockets when the station was built
+in space. The air purifiers in the hydroponics section could keep the
+air fresh enough for breathing, but fire of any kind would overtax the
+system, leaving too little oxygen in the atmosphere.
+
+It was a few minutes of ten when he decided he'd better get back to
+Alice Britton. She was trying to read a book between spasms, but she
+wasn't getting much read. She dropped it to the floor when he came in.
+
+"Am I glad to see you! It won't be long now." She looked at him
+analytically. "Say! Just what _is_ eating you? You look more haggard
+than I do!"
+
+Again he tried to force a smile, but it didn't come off too well.
+"Nothing serious. I just want to make sure everything comes out all
+right."
+
+She smiled. "It will. You're all set. You ordered the instruments
+months ago. Or did you forget something?"
+
+That hit home, but he just grinned feebly. "I forgot to get somebody to
+boil water."
+
+"Whatever for?"
+
+"Coffee, of course. Didn't you know that? Papa always heats up the
+water; that keeps him out of the way, and the doctor has coffee
+afterwards."
+
+Alice's hands grasped the sheet again, and Banes glanced at his watch.
+Ninety seconds! It was long and hard.
+
+When the pain had ebbed away, he said: "We've got the delivery room all
+ready. It won't be much longer now."
+
+"I'll say it won't! How about the incubator?"
+
+There was a long pause. Finally, he said softly: "There isn't any
+incubator. I didn't take the possibility of a premature delivery into
+account. It's my fault. I've done what I could, though; the ship is
+bringing one up. I--I think we'll be able to keep the child alive
+until--"
+
+He stopped. Alice was bubbling up with laughter.
+
+"Lieutenant! Lieutenant Britton! Alice! This is no time to get
+hysterical! Stop it!"
+
+Her laughter slowed to a chuckle. "_Me_ get hysterical! That's a good
+one! What about you? You're so nervous you couldn't sip water out of a
+bathtub without spilling it!"
+
+He blinked. "What do you mean?"
+
+Another pain came, and he had to wait until it was over before he got
+her answer. "Doctor," she said, "I thought you would have figured it
+out. Ask yourself just one question. Ask yourself, 'Why is a space
+station like an incubator?'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Space Ship Twelve docked at Space Station One at exactly eleven
+thirty-four, and two men in spacesuits pushed a large, bulky package
+through the airlock.
+
+Major Peter Banes, haggard but smiling, met Captain Britton in the
+corridor as he and the colonel entered the hospital ward.
+
+Banes nodded to Colonel Gates, then turned to Britton. "I don't know
+whether to congratulate you or take a poke at you, Captain, but I
+suppose congratulations come first. Your son, James Edward Britton II,
+is doing fine, thank you."
+
+"You mean--_already_?"
+
+The colonel said nothing, but he raised an eyebrow.
+
+"Over an hour ago," said Banes.
+
+"But--but--the incubator--"
+
+Banes' grin widened. "We'll put the baby in it, now that we've got it,
+but it really isn't necessary. Your wife figured that one out. A space
+station is a kind of incubator itself, you see. It protects us poor,
+weak humans from the terrible conditions of space. So all we had to do
+was close up one of the airtight rooms, sterilize it, warm it up, and
+put in extra oxygen from the emergency tanks. Young James is perfectly
+comfortable."
+
+"Excellent, Major!" said the colonel.
+
+"Don't thank me. It was Captain Britton's wife who--"
+
+But Captain Britton wasn't listening any more. He was headed toward his
+wife's room at top speed.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Spatial Delivery, by Randall Garrett
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58733 ***