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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..16be3cb --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #62139 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62139) diff --git a/old/62139-h.zip b/old/62139-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index aeb94d5..0000000 --- a/old/62139-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/62139-h/62139-h.htm b/old/62139-h/62139-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 835ee72..0000000 --- a/old/62139-h/62139-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1521 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Captain Chaos, by Nelson S. Bond. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.caption p -{ - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; - margin: 0.25em 0; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Chaos, by Nelson S. Bond - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Captain Chaos - -Author: Nelson S. Bond - -Release Date: May 15, 2020 [EBook #62139] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN CHAOS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="349" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>CAPTAIN CHAOS</h1> - -<h2>By NELSON S. BOND</h2> - -<p>The Callisto-bound <i>Leo</i> needed<br /> -a cook. What it got was a piping-voiced<br /> -Jonah who jinxed it straight into Chaos.</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories Summer 1942.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>We picked up our new cook on Phobos. Not Phoebus or Phoebe; I mean -Phobos, Mars' inner moon. Our regular victual mangler came down with -acute indigestion—tasted some of his own cooking, no doubt—when we -were just one blast of a jet-tube out of Sand City spaceport. But since -we were rocketing under sealed orders, we couldn't turn back.</p> - -<p>So we laid the <i>Leo</i> down on Phobos' tiny cradle-field and bundled -our ailing grub-hurler off to a hospital, and the skipper said to me, -"Mister Dugan," he said, "go out and find us a cook!"</p> - -<p>"Aye, sir!" I said, and went.</p> - -<p>Only it wasn't that easy. In those days, Phobos had only a handful -of settlers, and most of them had good-paying jobs. Besides, we were -at war with the Outer Planets, and no man in his right senses wanted -to sign for a single-trip jump on a rickety old patrolship bound for -nobody-knew-where. And, of course, cooks are dime-a-dozen when you -don't need one, but when you've got to locate one in a hurry they're as -difficult to find as petticoats in a nudist camp.</p> - -<p>I tried the restaurants and the employment agencies, but it was no -dice. I tried the hotels and the tourist homes and even one or two -of the cleaner-looking joy-joints. Again I drew a blank. So, getting -desperate, I audioed a plaintive appeal to the wealthy Phobosian -colonists, asking that one of the more patriotic sons-of-riches donate -a chef's services to the good old I.P.S., but my only response was a -loud silence.</p> - -<p>So I went back to the ship. I said, "Sorry, sir. We're up against it. I -can't seem to find a cook on the whole darned satellite."</p> - -<p>The skipper scowled at me from under a corduroy brow and fumed, "But -we've got to have a cook, Dugan! We can't go on without one!"</p> - -<p>"In a pinch," I told him, "<i>I</i> might be able to boil a few pies, or -scramble us a steak or something, Skipper."</p> - -<p>"Thanks, Dugan, but that won't do. On this trip the men must be fed -regularly and well. Makeshift meals are O.Q. on an ordinary run, but -when you're running the blockade—"</p> - -<p>He stopped abruptly. But too late; I had caught his slip of the tongue. -I stared at him. I said, "The blockade, sir? Then you've read our -orders?"</p> - -<p>The Old Man nodded soberly.</p> - -<p>"Yes. You might as well know, Lieutenant. Everyone will be told as soon -as the <i>Leo</i> lifts gravs again. My orders were to be opened four hours -after leaving Sand City. I read them a few minutes ago.</p> - -<p>"We are to attempt to run the Outer Planets Alliance blockade at any -spot which reconnaisance determines as favorable. Our objective is -Jupiter's fourth satellite, Callisto. The Solar Federation Intelligence -Department has learned of a loyalist uprising on that moon. It is -reported that Callisto is weary of the war, with a little prompting -will secede from the Alliance and return to the Federation.</p> - -<p>"If this is true, it means we have at last found the foothold we have -been seeking; a salient within easy striking distance of Jupiter, -capital of the Alliance government. Our task is to verify the rumor -and, if it be true, make a treaty with the Callistans."</p> - -<p>I said, "Sweet howling stars—some assignment, sir! A chance to end -this terrible war ... form a permanent union of the entire Solar -family ... bring about a new age of prosperity and happiness."</p> - -<p>"If," Cap O'Hara reminded me, "we succeed. But it's a tough job. We -can't expect to win through the enemy cordon unless our men are in top -physical condition. And that means a sound, regular diet. So we must -find a cook, or—"</p> - -<p>"The search," interrupted an oddly high-pitched, but not unpleasant -voice, "is over. Where's the galley?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I whirled, and so did the Old Man. Facing us was an outlandish little -figure; a slim, trim, natty little Earthman not more than five-foot-two -in height; a smooth-cheeked young fellow swaddled in a spaceman's -uniform at least three sizes too large. Into the holster of his harness -was thrust a Haemholtz ray-pistol big enough to burn an army, and in -his right hand he brandished a huge, gleaming carving-knife. He frowned -at us impatiently.</p> - -<p>"Well," he repeated impatiently, "where is it?"</p> - -<p>The Old Man stared.</p> - -<p>"W-who," he demanded dazedly, "might you be?"</p> - -<p>"I might be," retorted the little stranger, "lots of people. But I came -here to be your new cook."</p> - -<p>O'Hara said, "The new—What's your name, mister?"</p> - -<p>"Andy," replied the newcomer. "Andy Laney."</p> - -<p>The Old Man's lip curled speculatively. "Well, Andy Laney," he said, -"you don't look like much of a cook to <i>me</i>."</p> - -<p>But the little mugg just returned the Old Man's gaze coolly. "Which -makes it even," he retorted. "<i>You</i> don't look like much of a skipper -to <i>me</i>. Do I get the job, or don't I?"</p> - -<p>The captain's grin faded, and his jowls turned pink. I stepped forward -hastily. I said, "Excuse me, sir, shall I handle this?" Then, because -the skipper was still struggling for words: "You," I said to the little -fellow, "are a cook?"</p> - -<p>"One of the best!" he claimed complacently.</p> - -<p>"You're willing to sign for a blind journey?"</p> - -<p>"Would I be here," he countered, "if I weren't?"</p> - -<p>"And you have your space certificate?"</p> - -<p>"I—" began the youngster.</p> - -<p>"Smart Aleck!" That was the Old Man, exploding into coherence at last. -"Rat-tailed, clever-cracking little smart Aleck! Don't look like much -of a skipper, eh? Well, my fine young rooster—"</p> - -<p>I said quickly, "If you don't mind, sir, this is no time to worry over -trifles. 'Any port in a storm,' you know. And if this young man <i>can</i> -cook—"</p> - -<p>The skipper's color subsided. So did he, grumbling. "Well, perhaps -you're right, Dugan. All right, Slops, you're hired. The galley's -on the second level, port side. Mess in three quarters of an -hour. Get going! Dugan, call McMurtrie and tell him we lift gravs -immediately—<i>Slops!</i> What are you doing at that table?"</p> - -<p>For the little fellow had sidled across the control-room and now, eyes -gleaming inquisitively, was peering at our trajectory charts. At the -skipper's roar he glanced up at us eagerly.</p> - -<p>"Vesta!" he piped in that curiously high-pitched and mellow voice. -"Loft trajectory for Vesta! Then we're trying to run the Alliance -blockade, Captain?"</p> - -<p>"None of your business!" bellowed O'Hara in tones of thunderous -outrage. "Get below instantly, or by the lavendar lakes of Luna I'll—"</p> - -<p>"If I were you," interrupted our diminutive new chef thoughtfully, "I'd -try to broach the blockade off Iris rather than Vesta. For one thing, -their patrol line will be thinner there; for another, you can come in -through the Meteor Bog, using it as a cover."</p> - -<p>"<i>Mr. Dugan!</i>"</p> - -<p>The Old Man's voice had an ominous ring to it, one I had seldom heard. -I sprang to attention and saluted smartly. "Aye, sir?"</p> - -<p>"Take this—this culinary tactician out of my sight before I forget I'm -an officer and a gentleman. And tell him that when I want advice I'll -come down to the galley for it!"</p> - -<p>A hurt look crept into the youngster's eyes. Slowly he turned and -followed me from the turret, down the ramp, and into the pan-lined -cubicle which was his proper headquarters. When I was turning to leave -he said apologetically, "I didn't mean any harm, Mr. Dugan. I was just -trying to help."</p> - -<p>"You must learn not to speak out of turn, youngster," I told him -sternly. "The Old Man's one of the smartest space navigators who ever -lifted gravs. He doesn't need the advice or suggestions of a cook."</p> - -<p>"But I was raised in the Belt," said the little chap plaintively. "I -know the Bog like a book. And I was right; our safest course <i>is</i> by -way of Iris."</p> - -<p>Well, there you are! You try to be nice to someone, and what happens? -He tees off on you. I got a little sore I guess. Anyhow, I told the -little squirt off, but definitely.</p> - -<p>"Now, listen!" I said bluntly. "You volunteered for the job. Now -you've got to take what comes with it: orders! From now on, suppose -you take care of the cooking and let the rest of us worry about the -ship—Captain Slops!"</p> - -<p>And I left, banging the door behind me hard.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>So we hit the spaceways for Vesta, and after a while the Old Man called -up the crew and told them our destination, and if you think they were -scared or nervous or anything like that, why, you just don't know -spacemen. From oil-soaked old Jock McMurtrie, the Chief Engineer, all -the way down the line to Willy, our cabin-boy, the <i>Leo's</i> complement -was as thrilled as a sub-deb at an Academy hop.</p> - -<p>John Wainwright, our First Officer, licked his chops like a fox in a -hen-house and said, "The blockade! Oboyoboy! Maybe we'll tangle with -one of the Alliance ships, hey?"</p> - -<p>Blinky Todd, an ordinary with highest rating, said with a sort of -macabre satisfaction, "I hopes we <i>do</i> meet up with 'em, that's whut I -does, sir! Never did have no love for them dirty, skulkin' Outlanders, -that's whut I didn't!"</p> - -<p>And one of the black-gang blasters, a taciturn chap, said nothing—but -the grim set of his jaw and the purposeful way he spat on his callused -paws were mutely eloquent.</p> - -<p>Only one member of the crew was absent from the conclave. Our new -Slops. He was busy preparing midday mess, it seems, because scarcely -had the skipper finished talking than the audio hummed and a cheerful -call rose from the galley:</p> - -<p>"Soup's on! Come and get it!"</p> - -<p>Which we did. And whatever failings "Captain Slops" might have, he -had not exaggerated when he called himself one of the best cooks in -space. That meal, children, was a meal! When it comes to victuals -I can destroy better than describe, but there was stuff and things -and such-like, all smothered in gravy and so on, and huge quantities -of this and that and the other thing, all of them unbelievably -dee-luscious!</p> - -<p>Beyond a doubt it was the finest feast we of the <i>Leo</i> had enjoyed in -a 'coon's age. Even the Old Man admitted that as, leaning back from -the table, he patted the pleasant bulge due south of his belt buckle. -He rang the bell that summoned Slops from the galley, and the little -fellow came bustling in apprehensively.</p> - -<p>"Was everything all right, sir?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Not only all right, Slops," wheezed Captain O'Hara, "but perfect! -Accept my congratulations on a superb meal, my boy. Did you find -everything O.Q. in the galley?"</p> - -<p>"Captain Slops" blushed like a stereo-struck school-gal, and fidgeted -from one foot to another.</p> - -<p>"Oh, thank you, sir! Thank you very much. Yes, the galley was in fine -order. That is—" He hesitated—"there is one little thing, sir."</p> - -<p>"So? Well, speak up, son, what is it? I'll get it fixed for you right -away." The Old Man smiled archly. "Must have everything shipshape for a -tip-top chef, what?"</p> - -<p>The young hash-slinger still hesitated bashfully.</p> - -<p>"But it's such a <i>little</i> thing, sir, I almost hate to bother you with -it."</p> - -<p>"No trouble at all. Just say the word."</p> - -<p>"Well, sir," confessed Slops reluctantly, "I need an incinerator in -the galley. The garbage-disposal system in there now is old-fashioned, -inconvenient and unsanitary. You see, I have to carry the waste down -two levels to the rocket-chamber in order to expel it."</p> - -<p>The skipper's brow creased.</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry, Slops," he said, "but I don't see how we can do anything -about that. Not just now, at any rate. That job requires equipment we -don't have aboard. After this jump is over I'll see what I can do."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I realize we don't have the regular equipment," said Slops shyly, -"but I've figured out a way to get the same effect with equipment we -do have. There's an old Nolan heat-cannon rusting in the storeroom. -If that could be installed by the galley vent, I could use it as an -incinerator."</p> - -<p>I said, "Hold everything, Slops! You can't do that! It's against -regulations. Code 44, Section xvi, says, 'Fixed armament shall be -placed only in gunnery embrasures insulated against the repercussions -of firing charges, re-radiation, or other hazards accruent to heavy -ordnance.'"</p> - -<p>Our little chef's face fell. "Now, that's too bad," he said -discouragedly. "I was planning a special banquet for tomorrow, with -roast marsh-duck and all the fixings, pinberry pie—but, oh, well!—if -I have no incinerator—"</p> - -<p>The skipper's eyes bulged, and he drooled like a pup at a barbeque. -He was a bit of a sybarite, was Captain David O'Hara; if there was -anything he dearly loved to exercise his molars on it was Venusian -marsh-duck topped with a dessert of Martian pinberry pie. He said:</p> - -<p>"We-e-ell, now, Mr. Dugan, let's not be too technical. After all, that -rule was put in the book only to prevent persons which shouldn't ought -to do so from having control of ordnance. But that isn't what Slops -wants the cannon for, is it, son? So I don't see any harm in rigging -up the old Nolan in the galley for incineration purposes. Did you say -<i>all</i> the fixings, Slops?"</p> - -<p>Maybe I was mistaken, but for a moment I suspected I caught a queer -glint in our little chef's eyes; it might have been gratitude, or, on -the other hand, it might have been self-satisfaction. Whatever it was -it passed quickly, and Captain Slops' soft voice was smooth as silk -when he said:</p> - -<p>"Yes, Captain, all the fixings. I'll start cooking the meal as soon as -the new incinerator is installed."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>So that was that. During the night watch two men of the crew lugged -the ancient Nolan heat cannon from stores and I went below to check. I -found young Slops bent over the old cannon, giving it a strenuous and -thorough cleaning. The way he was oiling and scrubbing at that antique -reminded me of an apprentice gunner coddling his first charge.</p> - -<p>I must have startled him, entering unexpectedly as I did, for when I -said, "Hi, there!" he jumped two feet and let loose a sissy little -piping squeal. Then, crimson-faced with embarrassment, he said, "Oh, -h-hello, Lieutenant. I was just getting my new incinerator shipshape. -Looks O.Q., eh?"</p> - -<p>"If you ask me," I said, "it looks downright lethal. The Old Man must -be off his gravs to let a young chuckle-head like you handle that toy."</p> - -<p>"But I'm only going to use it," he said plaintively, "to dispose of -garbage."</p> - -<p>"Well, don't dump your cans when there are any ships within range," I -warned him glumly, "or there'll be a mess of human scraps littering up -the void. That gun may be a museum piece, but it still packs a wallop."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said Slops meekly. "I'll be careful how I use it, sir."</p> - -<p>I had finished my inspection, and I sniggered as his words reminded me -of a joke I'd heard at a spacemans' smoker.</p> - -<p>"Speaking of being careful, did you hear the giggler about the old maid -at the Martian baths? Well, it seems this perennial spinster wandered, -by accident, into the men's shower room and met up with a brawny young -prospector—"</p> - -<p>Captain Slops said, "Er—excuse me, Lieutenant, but I have to get this -marsh-duck stuffed."</p> - -<p>"Plenty of time, Slops. Wait till you hear this; it will kill you. The -old maid got flustered and said, 'Oh, I'm sorry! I must be in the wrong -compartment—'"</p> - -<p>"If you don't mind, Mr. Dugan," interrupted the cook loudly, "I'm -awfully busy. I don't have any time for—"</p> - -<p>"The prospector looked her over carefully for a couple of seconds; then -answered, 'That's O.Q. by me, sister. I won't—'"</p> - -<p>"I—I've got to go now, Lieutenant," shouted Slops. "Just remembered -something I've got to get from stores." And without even waiting to -hear the wallop at the end of my tale he fled from the galley, very -pink and flustered.</p> - -<p>So there was one for the log-book! Not only did our emergency chef lack -a sense of humor, but the little punk was bashful, as well! Still, it -was no skin off my nose if Slops wanted to miss the funniest yarn of a -decade. I shrugged and went back to the control turret.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>All that, to make an elongated story brief, happened on the first day -out of Mars. As any schoolchild knows, it's a full hundred million from -the desert planet to the asteroid belt. In those days, there was no -such device as a Velocity-Intensifier unit, and the <i>Leo</i>, even though -she was then considered a reasonably fast little patroller, muddled -along at a mere 400,000 m.p.h. Which meant it would take us at least -ten days, perhaps more, to reach that disputed region of space around -Vesta, where the Federation outposts were sparse and the Alliance block -began.</p> - -<p>That period of jetting was a mingled joy and pain in the britches. -Captain Slops was responsible for both.</p> - -<p>For one thing, as I've hinted before, he was a bit of a panty-waist. -It wasn't so much the squeaky voice or the effeminate gestures he cut -loose with from time to time. One of the roughest, toughest scoundrels -who ever cut a throat on Venus was "High G" Gordon, who talked like a -boy soprano, and the meanest pirate who ever highjacked a freighter was -"Runt" Hake—who wore diamond ear-rings and gold fingernail polish!</p> - -<p>But it was Slops' general attitude that isolated him from the command -and crew. In addition to being a most awful prude, he was a kill-joy. -When just for a lark we begged him to boil us a pot of spaghetti, so we -could pour a cold worm's nest into Rick Bramble's bed, he shuddered and -refused.</p> - -<p>"Certainly not!" he piped indignantly. "You must be out of your minds! -I never heard of such a disgusting trick! Of course, I won't be a party -to it. Worms—Ugh!"</p> - -<p>"Yeah!" snorted Johnny Wainwright disdainfully, "And <i>ugh!</i> to you, -too. Come on, Joe, let's get out of here before we give Slops bad -dreams and goose-flesh!"</p> - -<p>Nor was hypersensitiveness Slops' worst failing. If he was squeamish -about off-color jokes and such stuff, he had no compunctions whatsoever -against sticking his nose in where it didn't belong.</p> - -<p>He was an inveterate prowler. He snooped everywhere and anywhere from -ballast-bins to bunk-rooms. He quizzed the Chief about engine-room -practices, the gunner's mate on problems of ballistics, even the -cabin-boy on matters of supplies and distribution of same. He was not -only an asker; he was a teller, as well. More than once during the next -nine days he forced on the skipper the same gratuitous advice which -before had enraged the Old Man. By sheer perseverance he earned the -title I had tagged him with: "Captain Slops."</p> - -<p>I was willing to give him another title, too—Captain Chaos. God knows -he created enough of it!</p> - -<p>"It's a mistake to broach the blockade at Vesta," he argued over and -over again.</p> - -<p>"O.Q., Slops," the skipper would nod agreeably, with his mouth full -of some temper-softening tidbit, "you're right and I'm wrong, as you -usually are. But I'm in command of the <i>Leo</i>, and you ain't. Now, run -along like a good lad and bring me some more of this salad."</p> - -<p>So ten days passed, and it was on the morning of the eleventh day out -of Sand City that we ran into trouble with a capital trub. I remember -that morning well, because I was in the mess-hall having breakfast with -Cap O'Hara, and Slops was playing another variation on the old familiar -theme.</p> - -<p>"I glanced at the chart this morning, sir," he began as he minced in -with a platterful of golden flapjacks and an ewer of Vermont maple -syrup, "and I see we are but an hour or two off Vesta. I am very much -afraid this is our last chance to change course—"</p> - -<p>"And for that," chuckled the Old Man, "Hooray! Pass them pancakes, son. -Maybe now you'll stop shooting off about how we ought to of gone by way -of Iris. Mmmm! Good!"</p> - -<p>"Thank you, sir," said Slops mechanically. "But you realize there is -extreme danger of encountering enemy ships?"</p> - -<p>"Keep your pants on, Slops!"</p> - -<p>"Eh?" The chef looked startled. "Beg pardon, sir?"</p> - -<p>"I said keep your pants on. Sure, I know. And I've took precautions. -There's a double watch on duty, and men at every gun. If we do meet up -with an Alliance craft, it'll be just too bad for them!</p> - -<p>"Yes, sirree!" The Old Man grinned comfortably. "I almost hope we -do bump into one. After we burn it out of the void we'll have clear -sailing all the way to Callisto."</p> - -<p>"But—but if there should be more than one, sir?"</p> - -<p>"Don't be ridiculous, my boy. Why should there be?"</p> - -<p>"Well, for one thing," wrangled our pint-sized cook, "because rich -ekalastron deposits were recently discovered on Vesta. For another, -because Vesta's orbit is now going into aphelion stage, which will -favor a concentration of raiders."</p> - -<p>The skipper choked, spluttered, and disgorged a bite of half-masticated -pancake.</p> - -<p>"Eka—Great balls of fire! Are you sure?"</p> - -<p>"Of course, I'm sure. I told you days ago that I was born and raised in -the Belt, Captain."</p> - -<p>"I know. But why didn't you tell me about Vesta before? I mean about -the ekalastron deposits?"</p> - -<p>"Why—why, because—" said Slops. "Because—"</p> - -<p>"Don't give me lady-logic, you dope!" roared the Old Man, an enraged -lion now, his breakfast completely forgotten. "Give me a sensible -answer! If you'd told me <i>that</i> instead of just yipping and yapping -about how via Iris was a nicer route I'd have listened to you! As it -is, we're blasting smack-dab into the face of danger. And us on the -most vital mission of the whole ding-busted war!"</p> - -<p>He was out of his seat, bustling to the audio, buzzing Lieutenant -Wainwright on the bridge.</p> - -<p>"Johnny—that you? Listen, change traj quick! Set a new course through -the Belt by way of Iris and the Bog, and hurry up, because—"</p> - -<p>What reason he planned to give I do not know, for he never finished -that sentence. At that moment the <i>Leo</i> rattled like a Model AA -spacesled in an ionic storm, rolled, quivered and slewed like a drunk -on a freshly-waxed floor. The motion needed no explanation; it was -unmistakeable to any spacer who has ever hopped the blue. Our ship had -been gripped, and was now securely locked, in the clutch of a tractor -beam!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>What happened next was everything at once. Officers Wainwright and -Bramble were in the turret, and they were both good sailors. They knew -their duties and how to perform them. An instant after the <i>Leo</i> had -been assaulted, the ship bucked and slithered again, this time with the -repercussions of our own ordnance. Over the audio, which Sparks had -hastily converted into an all-way, inter-ship communicating unit, came -a jumble of voices. A call for Captain O'Hara to "Come to the bridge, -sir!" ... the harsh query of Chief McMurtrie, "Tractor beams on stern -and prow, sir. Shall I attempt to break them?" ... and a thunderous -<i>groooom!</i> from the fore-gunnery port as a crew went into action ... a -plaintive little shriek from somebody ... maybe from Slops himself....</p> - -<p>Then on an ultra-wave carrier, drowning local noises beneath waves of -sheer volume, came English words spoken with a foreign intonation. The -voice of the Alliance commander.</p> - -<p>"Ahoy the <i>Leo</i>! Calling the captain of the <i>Leo</i>!"</p> - -<p>O'Hara, his great fists knotted at his sides, called back, "O'Hara of -the <i>Leo</i> answering. What do you want?"</p> - -<p>"Stand by to admit a boarding party, Captain. It is futile to resist. -You are surrounded by six armed craft, and your vessel is locked in -our tensiles. Any further effort to make combat will bring about your -immediate destruction!"</p> - -<p>From the bridge, topside, snarled Johnny Wainwright, "The hell with -'em, Skipper! Let's fight it out!" And elsewhere on the <i>Leo</i> angry -voices echoed the same defi. Never in my life had I felt such a -heart-warming love for and pride in my companions as at that tense -moment. But the Old Man shook his head, and his eyes were glistening.</p> - -<p>"It's no use," he moaned strickenly, more to himself than to me. "I -can't sacrifice brave men in a useless cause, Dugan. I've got to—" He -faced the audio squarely. To the enemy commander he said, "Very good, -sir! In accordance with the Rules of War, I surrender into your hands!"</p> - -<p>The firing ceased, and a stillness like that of death blanketed the -<i>Leo</i>.</p> - -<p>It was then that Andy Laney, who had lingered in the galley doorway -like a frozen figuring, broke into babbling incredulous speech.</p> - -<p>"You—you're giving up like this?" he bleated. "Is this all you're -going to do?"</p> - -<p>The Old Man just looked at him, saying never a word, but that glance -would have blistered the hide off a Mercurian steelback. I'm more -impetuous. I turned on the little idiot vituperatively.</p> - -<p>"Shut up, you fool! Don't you realize there's not a thing we can do but -surrender? Dead, we're of no earthly use to anyone. Alive, there is -always a chance one of us may get away, bring help. We have a mission -to fulfil, an important one. Corpses can't run errands."</p> - -<p>"But—but if they take us prisoners," he questioned fearfully, "what -will they do with us?"</p> - -<p>"A concentration camp somewhere. Perhaps on Vesta."</p> - -<p>"And the <i>Leo</i>?"</p> - -<p>"Who knows? Maybe they'll send it to Jupiter with a prize crew in -command."</p> - -<p>"That's what I thought. But they mustn't be allowed to do that. We're -marked with the Federation tricolor!"</p> - -<p>A sharp retort trembled on the tip of my tongue, but I never uttered -it. Indeed, I swallowed it as comprehension dawned. There came to me -the beginnings of respect for little Andy Laney's wisdom. He had been -right about the danger of the Vesta route, as we had learned to our -cost; now he was right on this other score.</p> - -<p>The skipper got it, too. His jaw dropped. He said, "Heaven help us, -it's the truth! To reach Jupiter you've got to pass Callisto. If the -Callistans saw a Federation vessel, they'd send out an emissary to -greet it. Our secret would be discovered, Callisto occupied by the -enemy...."</p> - -<p>I think he would have turned, then, and given orders to continue the -fight even though it meant suicide for all of us. But it was too late. -Already our lock had opened to the attackers; down the metal ramp we -now heard the crisp cadence of invading footsteps. The door swung open, -and the Alliance commandant stood smiling triumphantly before us.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There are soldiers and soldiers. Fighting men, as a rule, are pretty -decent guys at the core. Having experienced danger, violence and the -crawling horror of death themselves, they know the meaning of mercy. -They respect their foes, and extend a fine magnanimity in the moment of -victory.</p> - -<p>Lieutenant-Colonel Ras Thuul, commander of the Third Outer Planets' -Alliance Flotilla, was not this type of enemy. Half-breed spawn of a -Jovian tribal priestess and a renegade Earthman, he retained the worst -characteristics bequeathed by each of his parents.</p> - -<p>From his father he had inherited height—he towered a full head above -the squat, gnarled Jovian "runts" he led—and a festering hatred -of the planet Earth. From his priestess mother he had suckled the -milk of sadistic savagery which typified Jovian civilization before -space-spanning Earthlings carried enlightenment to the far-flung -sisterhood of the Sun.</p> - -<p>His first words demonstrated clearly how slender was the mercy we might -expect at his hands. To Captain O'Hara he said coldly, bluntly, rudely, -"Your sidearms, Captain!" Then as the Old Man silently proffered -his personal weapons: "You will walk before me, sir, on a tour of -inspection. You might advise your men I hold you as hostage. One -hostile move from any source means your death."</p> - -<p>The skipper's reply was richly disdainful.</p> - -<p>"I have surrendered myself to you under the Rules of War, Colonel. This -play-acting is childish and altogether unnecessary."</p> - -<p>Ras Thuul's swarthy cheeks sallowed; he took a swift step forward and, -before one could guess his intention, slapped the Old Man viciously -across the mouth with his gauntlet. The heavy, asbestos-lined -space-glove cut and bruised; a thin trickle of blood split the -skipper's lips.</p> - -<p>"One in your position," snarled the invader, "should learn not to -insult his betters! Now, lead the way, Captain. There is much to be -done, and no time to waste."</p> - -<p>Thus began our painful journey through the conquered <i>Leo</i>. As Ras -Thuul had said, there was much to be done by his forces—nor had they -delayed in getting about their task. A laboring crew was busily engaged -in stripping the food-stuffs from our supply bins, other workmen were -dismantling all hypo and radio equipment, verifying our belief that the -O.P.A. was desperately in need of such material. Grim-faced Jovians -had herded our marksmen from the gun embrasures, and were quickly -dismantling every piece of ordnance the <i>Leo</i> boasted.</p> - -<p>From room to room we went, from passage to sector to cabin. Nothing -escaped the eagle eye of our foeman. By word and sign he designated to -his henchmen those items which were to be removed, those which were to -be destroyed. Only in the control-room was everything left untouched. -It was here that Ras Thuul volunteered the explanation which proved the -depths of his infamy. With a grin of sheer savagery he explained:</p> - -<p>"I find it needless to waste energy in smashing this equipment, -Captain. I am sure the rocky fragments of the Bog will do that most -efficiently."</p> - -<p>The Old Man stared at him uncomprehendingly.</p> - -<p>"You—you mean you're going to wreck the <i>Leo</i> in the Bog? Just turn it -loose and let the grindstone smash it?"</p> - -<p>Ras Thuul shrugged. "It is the easiest way."</p> - -<p>"But—" puzzled the skipper confusedly—"how about us? I mean, are you -going to take us aboard your ship, or do we get camped on one of the -asteroids, or—"</p> - -<p>The half-breed shrugged negligently. "Why, Captain, you wouldn't want -to desert your ship? I've always heard you Earthmen made it a point of -honor to stand by your decks. Of course I would not think of forbidding -you this signal honor."</p> - -<p>The skipper's face turned white, but it was not fear that drained his -cheeks of color; it was righteous rage. His words exploded like a fused -hypatomic.</p> - -<p>"<i>What!</i> You <i>dare</i> do a thing like this, Colonel! You accepted my -surrender under military covenant—"</p> - -<p>"That will do, Captain!" rapped Ras Thuul. "It will do you no good to -prate of technicalities. I acknowledge but one rule of war—destroy -your enemy! When this vessel has been stripped of its fuel and -supplies, I shall turn it loose in the Bog. What happens then to it—or -you—is none of my concern. Your pleas are vain, sir!</p> - -<p>"And now, have we seen the entire ship?"</p> - -<p>It was his selection of the word "pleas" that ended the Old Man's -protestations. O'Hara needed no microscope to read our adversary's -character; he knew that Ras Thuul would enjoy nothing more than -listening to pleas for mercy. If we had to die, we could at least die -like men. His jaw clamped forever on argument.</p> - -<p>"We have," he said. "We are now where we started."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>And so we were, back in the Officers' Mess. A half hour ago our -troubles had begun here; now they threatened to end abruptly and, for -us, horribly.</p> - -<p>But the half-breed's eyes had narrowed. A liar and dastard himself, he -had a liar's distrust for everyone else. He nodded toward the closed -door on the farther wall.</p> - -<p>"We haven't been in there. Where does that lead?"</p> - -<p>I said caustically, "No, and there's one mouse-trap you haven't crawled -into yet, too. What's the matter? Got a tapeworm? That's just the -kitchen."</p> - -<p>It sounds right daring now that I see it in writing, but it was pure -braggadocio. I figured my number was up, and a few healthy insults -wouldn't make me die any deader. But our captor paid no attention. -Prodding Captain O'Hara before him, he pushed into the galley.</p> - -<p>Of course Captain Slops was on duty. The little guy was a study in -technicolor; sort of pink around the eyebrows, white around the lips, -and green around the gills. But I had to hand it to him, he was a -game little fighting cock. Never a cringe for the Jovian commander, -who brushed by him to peer about the cookhouse, and though the runt -warriors had taken his massive old Haemholtz when they stripped us all, -I saw he had a very large, and a very sharp, cleaver hanging not too -far from his grasp.</p> - -<p>Naturally, there wasn't anything for our foe to find in the galley. But -he went through all the motions, just the same. Squinted in the stove, -the refrigerator, the vegetable bins. And finally—</p> - -<p>"Ah, ha!" rasped he. "What have we here? A cannon! So, Captain -O'Hara—a concealed weapon, eh? Sergeant—"</p> - -<p>He wheeled to one of his subalterns. But Andy Laney stepped forward -awkwardly.</p> - -<p>"It—er—it's not really a cannon, sir," he piped. "If you'll just -open the breech, sir, you'll see—Oh! <i>Do</i> be careful, sir! Oh, my -goodness!"</p> - -<p>Because Lieutenant-Colonel Ras Thuul had hurled open the breech, and -the incinerator-cannon was full—or had been a moment before. Now -it was half empty, and the accumulation of slops and refuse as yet -unincinerated had dumped backwards all over him!</p> - -<p>It was the one bright spot in an otherwise dull day. Thuul howled and -bellowed, and that was a mistake because his mouth opened. Then he -spluttered. And gagged. And coughed. And backed, slipping and sliding -on cold gravy, away from the incinerator. He wasn't the impressive -figure he had been ten minutes ago. Coffee-grounds mottled his gold -tunic, and lima beans tangled coyly with his once-gleaming epaulets. -Potato-peelings draped gracefully from his ears, and the exotic odor of -a slightly antique egg exuded from his shirt-front.</p> - -<p>Well, what would <i>you</i> do? Even if you knew your life was in danger, -what would you do at such a moment?</p> - -<p>The same as we did, of course. We laughed. The Old Man and I, we burst -out in a guffaw and rocked till we almost split our surcingles. And -Slops laughed, too, in that piping little squeal of his, though even -through his laughter he was gasping spasmodically, "I—I tried to warn -you, sir. I'm <i>so</i> sorry! But you see it's only a garbage incinerator."</p> - -<p>But he who laughs last, laughs last. And if our foe had been despicable -before, he was a raging fury now. He did not even stop to scrape the -last clinging turnip-top from his jacket. He spun to his subordinates -and screamed, "Come! We are finished here! Back to our ship! I'll show -these Earthmen one does not insult a Jovian commander with impunity!"</p> - -<p>And his face a thundercloud of wrath, he dashed from the galley. We -heard him calling his men, heard them exiting through the airlock, and -then—silence again.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was then, his paroxysms of mirth stifled by sober recollection, that -the Old Man turned and said, "Well, it was fun while it lasted. But -it's all over now, Dugan. Call the men together. This is the last act, -and we might as well all face it together."</p> - -<p>But before I could leave the room, Slops clutched my arm with fingers -tense and hot as live wires.</p> - -<p>"No, Joey! Don't go! I need your help. And yours, Skipper! Hurry! We -haven't a minute to lose!"</p> - -<p>I stared at the Old Man and he at me. "H-huh?" said the two of us. -"Help? Help for what?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, don't <i>talk</i> so much!" bleated Andy. "<i>Work!</i> Get this garbage out -of here—like this!"</p> - -<p>And recklessly he plunged both arms into the channel of the -incinerator, recklessly hurled it about the previously immaculate floor -of the galley. As he worked, he panted: "An incinerator, yes ... -but ... it was a good cannon ... in its ... day. It will still work. I -cleaned ... and oiled it ... and connected it to the charger. <i>It still -shoots!</i>"</p> - -<p><i>Shoots!</i> That was all we had to hear. We fell all over ourselves -trying to get an armload of that goo. I never thought I'd live to see -the day I'd go fond and blissful over a gallon of boiled noodles, but -that's just what happened. I dug in, and so did the skipper. In less -time than I've taken to tell it, we had that incinerator-cannon empty, -swabbed out and ready for use as a cannon-incinerator.</p> - -<p>Then the captain clapped a hand to his forehead.</p> - -<p>"Omigawd—I clean forgot! The firing-plate! There ain't no vision-field -for this gun!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes there is!" cried Captain Slops. "Over your head, there—the -galley-vent. I—I removed the atmosphere-duct and installed a -vision-field. Use the crossed wires for a target centering device."</p> - -<p>I flung open the vent. As he had said, the vent had been converted into -a perfect firing-plate. There before me, a fat and gladsome target, was -the largest of the enemy ships which had captured us, the flagship of -Ras Thuul's fleet. As I watched, I saw the commander and his boarding -party re-enter their own craft.</p> - -<p>I said grimly, "Well, it's six against one. They'll blast us out of -space, but by the purple gods of Pluto, we'll take at least one of them -with us. This thing is connected?"</p> - -<p>And I reached for the trigger. But once again Slops held my hand.</p> - -<p>"No, Joey! There's a fighting chance we can get <i>all</i> of them. Wait -till they cut the tractor beams and we're free of them. Then turn the -cannon <i>upward</i> toward the Belt—"</p> - -<p>"Upward?" I repeated dazedly. It didn't make sense. I glanced outside -to make sure. Here was the situation. The planetoid Vesta lay about a -mile or so below us. Larger than most of the meteoric and planetesimal -fragments that comprise the Belt, its orbit was irregular. The smaller -hunks of rock—and of course when you talk about "smaller" asteroids -that means shards ranging anywhere from a yard to several miles in -diameter, with weights ranging from a hundred pounds to twice that many -thousands of tons—were whirling and swirling <i>above</i> our ships in a -tight, lethal little huddle. That, of course, was the <i>melee</i> into -which Ras Thuul planned to plunge us after he cut his tractor beams.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Surprisingly, it was O'Hara who seconded Andy Laney.</p> - -<p>"Do what he says, Joe. I don't know exactly what he has in mind, but -it's his pigeon. He's steered us right this far; we might as well go -whole-hog."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, Captain!" said Slops gratefully. And as he spoke the words, -the <i>Leo</i> rocked violently. With gathering speed we began to move away -from our erstwhile captors, their tractor beams now released. Upward -we surged toward the web-work of flailing missiles that spelled pure -destruction.</p> - -<p>"Now, Joey!" almost screamed Slops. "Aim the cannon at the rubble. Hold -it firm. Full strength!"</p> - -<p>And I did. I yanked the controls over to full power and aimed the heat -gun straight into the heart of the rubble. The radiation was invisible, -of course. Our enemies couldn't know we had an operative weapon. I held -it for seconds which dragged like centuries. Nearer we were hurtling -toward doom, nearer and nearer.</p> - -<p>I cried, "Nothing's happening, Skipper! We're going to crash in a -minute. I might as well turn the gun on one of their ships—"</p> - -<p>"<i>Hold it!</i>" shrieked Captain Slops. "It's working as I hoped. Hold it -steady, Joey!"</p> - -<p>And now, returning my gaze to the target, I saw what he meant. -Something strange and weird was happening—not to us or to the enemy -spacecraft, but to the Bog itself! Like a huge, churning kettle it was -seething, rolling, boiling! And even as I cried aloud my astonishment, -one of the tinier bits of matter plummeted <i>down</i> from the overhanging -canopy of death to rattle against the hull of Ras Thuul's flagship.</p> - -<p>Then another ... and another ... and then a large piece. A hunk of rock -which must have weighed half a ton. It struck one of the Jovian vessels -like a sledgehammer, and a huge gap split in the spaceship's seams. -There came signs of frenzied activity from aboard the enemy boat; fire -spurted from stern-jets as engineers hurriedly warmed their rockets.</p> - -<p>We saw two warships, desperately trying to get under way, ram each -other head on. Three more were crushed, beaten shapeless, by the -tons of stony metal that smashed their very girders. The last, Ras -Thuul's flagship, met its doom most horribly. It was caught as in a -vise between two mountainous boulders which rolled tangentially over -it. When they separated, all that remained of a once proud ship was a -flattened, lacerated shred of tortured steel.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="326" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>In the unbelievable shambles, two of the cruisers -collided.</i></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>It was then, and then only, that Slops said to me:</p> - -<p>"That's all, Joey. You can turn it off now." There was something -akin to sadness in his voice. I understood. I didn't feel any too -good myself, watching those Jovians, foes though they were, die so -frightfully. "Captain O'Hara, if we can repair the damage done by the -marauders, we can now go on to Callisto and complete our mission. -I—What's the matter, Captain?"</p> - -<p>Cap O'Hara was glaring at his little finger irately.</p> - -<p>"Matter? Why, confound it, I cut myself on that tin can. Look at this!"</p> - -<p>He thrust before our noses a pudgy paw, the pinky of which was leaking -very feebly. I chuckled. Not so Slops; he loosed one horrified gasp, -and—</p> - -<p>"Blood!" he screamed. "Oh, gracious, I simply can't <i>stand</i> the sight -of blood! <i>Oooooohh!</i>"</p> - -<p>His face went suddenly white. And—just like that!—Captain Slops -fainted dead away!</p> - -<p>The skipper said, "Well, I'll be damned!" Dazed, he knelt beside the -little fellow, fumbled at his jacket collar. "Ain't that the funniest -you ever saw, Dugan? Sees six ships scuttled without batting an -eye-lash, and passes out at seeing a pinprick! Aw, well, it's probably -shock more than anything else. I'll unloose his shirt, give him a -little air—"</p> - -<p>I said, "He's the queerest guy I ever met. But he's a <i>man</i>, Skipper."</p> - -<p>Then a funny thing happened. The Skipper, strangely scarlet of face, -rose suddenly from Andy's side. He croaked, "You—you wouldn't like to -lay a little bet on that, Dugan?"</p> - -<p>"Huh?" I said. "On what? I don't understand—"</p> - -<p>The Old Man moaned softly.</p> - -<p>"Neither do I, Dugan. But you were wrong! Slops, here, ain't no man at -all, and never was! He—<i>he's a girl!</i>"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Well, looking back on it now I can see how we should have realized it -from the beginning. Sure, Captain Slops was a girl! That high, mellow -voice ... the oversized uniform coat ... that prudishness which was not -prudishness at all, but understandable modesty.</p> - -<p>Later, as we were streaking the spaceways toward our Callisto -rendezvous, the <i>Leo</i> completely repaired, we demanded and received an -explanation. I might add that in female togs the pint-sized chef looked -just the right size, and a hundred percent O.Q.</p> - -<p>"I didn't exactly lie about my name," she explained. "It <i>is</i> 'Andy -Laney'—only you spell it a bit differently. I am really 'Ann -Delaney.' My father was a spaceman, so was my grandfather and my -great-grandfather. Daddy was always sorry he had a daughter instead -of a son. He wanted to see the old tradition of a 'Delaney in space' -go on. But you thick-headed males have rules against allowing women -to take to the spaceways except as passengers, so there was nothing I -could do."</p> - -<p>"You," I told her admiringly, "did all right."</p> - -<p>"More than all right!" acknowledged the Skipper. "If it hadn't been for -you—Don't worry, Miss Delaney. I'll see that the proper authorities -hear all about this. Only—" A crease puckered his forehead—"There's -something I ain't yet puzzled out. How come you ordered Mr. Dugan to -shoot not at, but above the ships? At the Bog? And how come the rocks -came tumbling down thataway?"</p> - -<p>"Why," smiled Ann Delaney shyly, "it was really very simple. Heat, -Captain."</p> - -<p>"Heat?"</p> - -<p>"Of course. As any student of thermodynamics knows, heat has a definite -attractive force, varying directly as the difference in temperature. -Space, being a vacuum, lacks heat entirely. Its temperature is that -of Absolute Zero. Our gun emitted a heat-force equivalent to that of -ten solar degrees. Thus the radiation we discharged at the bitter -cold fragments of rock and ore comprising the Bog created a sort of -passageway, an attractive channel down which the detritus was drawn. -To state the problem more simply: have you ever watched a pot of beans -boil? A seething whirlpool is created; the beans seek the heat."</p> - -<p>"By golly!" said O'Hara. "I think you got something there, Miss -Delaney. Why—why, that's terrific! That gives us a brand-new combat -technique for locations where there are small cosmic bodies. Wait till -the War Department hears it!"</p> - -<p>But Ann Delaney just sniffed.</p> - -<p>"New?" she repeated disdainfully. "New? Why, every woman cook knows -that, Captain!"</p> - -<p>You'll find the rest in the history books. Callisto <i>did</i> sign a -pact with us ... the Federation <i>did</i> open a new front almost within -spitting distance of Jupiter....</p> - -<p>We've got a better universe to live in now. For one thing, there's -peace throughout the Solar System. Because of Ann Delaney, the -government changed its ruling about women in space; you'll find 'em -everywhere, nowadays, doing everything and anything men do.</p> - -<p>But I'm glad to say Ann isn't one of those void-vampires any more. She -and I—oh, sure! We're married now. I couldn't let a swell cook like -her get away, could I?</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Chaos, by Nelson S. Bond - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN CHAOS *** - -***** This file should be named 62139-h.htm or 62139-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/1/3/62139/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan 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 print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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Bond - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Captain Chaos - -Author: Nelson S. Bond - -Release Date: May 15, 2020 [EBook #62139] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN CHAOS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - CAPTAIN CHAOS - - By NELSON S. BOND - - The Callisto-bound _Leo_ needed - a cook. What it got was a piping-voiced - Jonah who jinxed it straight into Chaos. - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories Summer 1942. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -We picked up our new cook on Phobos. Not Phoebus or Phoebe; I mean -Phobos, Mars' inner moon. Our regular victual mangler came down with -acute indigestion--tasted some of his own cooking, no doubt--when we -were just one blast of a jet-tube out of Sand City spaceport. But since -we were rocketing under sealed orders, we couldn't turn back. - -So we laid the _Leo_ down on Phobos' tiny cradle-field and bundled -our ailing grub-hurler off to a hospital, and the skipper said to me, -"Mister Dugan," he said, "go out and find us a cook!" - -"Aye, sir!" I said, and went. - -Only it wasn't that easy. In those days, Phobos had only a handful -of settlers, and most of them had good-paying jobs. Besides, we were -at war with the Outer Planets, and no man in his right senses wanted -to sign for a single-trip jump on a rickety old patrolship bound for -nobody-knew-where. And, of course, cooks are dime-a-dozen when you -don't need one, but when you've got to locate one in a hurry they're as -difficult to find as petticoats in a nudist camp. - -I tried the restaurants and the employment agencies, but it was no -dice. I tried the hotels and the tourist homes and even one or two -of the cleaner-looking joy-joints. Again I drew a blank. So, getting -desperate, I audioed a plaintive appeal to the wealthy Phobosian -colonists, asking that one of the more patriotic sons-of-riches donate -a chef's services to the good old I.P.S., but my only response was a -loud silence. - -So I went back to the ship. I said, "Sorry, sir. We're up against it. I -can't seem to find a cook on the whole darned satellite." - -The skipper scowled at me from under a corduroy brow and fumed, "But -we've got to have a cook, Dugan! We can't go on without one!" - -"In a pinch," I told him, "_I_ might be able to boil a few pies, or -scramble us a steak or something, Skipper." - -"Thanks, Dugan, but that won't do. On this trip the men must be fed -regularly and well. Makeshift meals are O.Q. on an ordinary run, but -when you're running the blockade--" - -He stopped abruptly. But too late; I had caught his slip of the tongue. -I stared at him. I said, "The blockade, sir? Then you've read our -orders?" - -The Old Man nodded soberly. - -"Yes. You might as well know, Lieutenant. Everyone will be told as soon -as the _Leo_ lifts gravs again. My orders were to be opened four hours -after leaving Sand City. I read them a few minutes ago. - -"We are to attempt to run the Outer Planets Alliance blockade at any -spot which reconnaisance determines as favorable. Our objective is -Jupiter's fourth satellite, Callisto. The Solar Federation Intelligence -Department has learned of a loyalist uprising on that moon. It is -reported that Callisto is weary of the war, with a little prompting -will secede from the Alliance and return to the Federation. - -"If this is true, it means we have at last found the foothold we have -been seeking; a salient within easy striking distance of Jupiter, -capital of the Alliance government. Our task is to verify the rumor -and, if it be true, make a treaty with the Callistans." - -I said, "Sweet howling stars--some assignment, sir! A chance to end -this terrible war ... form a permanent union of the entire Solar -family ... bring about a new age of prosperity and happiness." - -"If," Cap O'Hara reminded me, "we succeed. But it's a tough job. We -can't expect to win through the enemy cordon unless our men are in top -physical condition. And that means a sound, regular diet. So we must -find a cook, or--" - -"The search," interrupted an oddly high-pitched, but not unpleasant -voice, "is over. Where's the galley?" - - * * * * * - -I whirled, and so did the Old Man. Facing us was an outlandish little -figure; a slim, trim, natty little Earthman not more than five-foot-two -in height; a smooth-cheeked young fellow swaddled in a spaceman's -uniform at least three sizes too large. Into the holster of his harness -was thrust a Haemholtz ray-pistol big enough to burn an army, and in -his right hand he brandished a huge, gleaming carving-knife. He frowned -at us impatiently. - -"Well," he repeated impatiently, "where is it?" - -The Old Man stared. - -"W-who," he demanded dazedly, "might you be?" - -"I might be," retorted the little stranger, "lots of people. But I came -here to be your new cook." - -O'Hara said, "The new--What's your name, mister?" - -"Andy," replied the newcomer. "Andy Laney." - -The Old Man's lip curled speculatively. "Well, Andy Laney," he said, -"you don't look like much of a cook to _me_." - -But the little mugg just returned the Old Man's gaze coolly. "Which -makes it even," he retorted. "_You_ don't look like much of a skipper -to _me_. Do I get the job, or don't I?" - -The captain's grin faded, and his jowls turned pink. I stepped forward -hastily. I said, "Excuse me, sir, shall I handle this?" Then, because -the skipper was still struggling for words: "You," I said to the little -fellow, "are a cook?" - -"One of the best!" he claimed complacently. - -"You're willing to sign for a blind journey?" - -"Would I be here," he countered, "if I weren't?" - -"And you have your space certificate?" - -"I--" began the youngster. - -"Smart Aleck!" That was the Old Man, exploding into coherence at last. -"Rat-tailed, clever-cracking little smart Aleck! Don't look like much -of a skipper, eh? Well, my fine young rooster--" - -I said quickly, "If you don't mind, sir, this is no time to worry over -trifles. 'Any port in a storm,' you know. And if this young man _can_ -cook--" - -The skipper's color subsided. So did he, grumbling. "Well, perhaps -you're right, Dugan. All right, Slops, you're hired. The galley's -on the second level, port side. Mess in three quarters of an -hour. Get going! Dugan, call McMurtrie and tell him we lift gravs -immediately--_Slops!_ What are you doing at that table?" - -For the little fellow had sidled across the control-room and now, eyes -gleaming inquisitively, was peering at our trajectory charts. At the -skipper's roar he glanced up at us eagerly. - -"Vesta!" he piped in that curiously high-pitched and mellow voice. -"Loft trajectory for Vesta! Then we're trying to run the Alliance -blockade, Captain?" - -"None of your business!" bellowed O'Hara in tones of thunderous -outrage. "Get below instantly, or by the lavendar lakes of Luna I'll--" - -"If I were you," interrupted our diminutive new chef thoughtfully, "I'd -try to broach the blockade off Iris rather than Vesta. For one thing, -their patrol line will be thinner there; for another, you can come in -through the Meteor Bog, using it as a cover." - -"_Mr. Dugan!_" - -The Old Man's voice had an ominous ring to it, one I had seldom heard. -I sprang to attention and saluted smartly. "Aye, sir?" - -"Take this--this culinary tactician out of my sight before I forget I'm -an officer and a gentleman. And tell him that when I want advice I'll -come down to the galley for it!" - -A hurt look crept into the youngster's eyes. Slowly he turned and -followed me from the turret, down the ramp, and into the pan-lined -cubicle which was his proper headquarters. When I was turning to leave -he said apologetically, "I didn't mean any harm, Mr. Dugan. I was just -trying to help." - -"You must learn not to speak out of turn, youngster," I told him -sternly. "The Old Man's one of the smartest space navigators who ever -lifted gravs. He doesn't need the advice or suggestions of a cook." - -"But I was raised in the Belt," said the little chap plaintively. "I -know the Bog like a book. And I was right; our safest course _is_ by -way of Iris." - -Well, there you are! You try to be nice to someone, and what happens? -He tees off on you. I got a little sore I guess. Anyhow, I told the -little squirt off, but definitely. - -"Now, listen!" I said bluntly. "You volunteered for the job. Now -you've got to take what comes with it: orders! From now on, suppose -you take care of the cooking and let the rest of us worry about the -ship--Captain Slops!" - -And I left, banging the door behind me hard. - - * * * * * - -So we hit the spaceways for Vesta, and after a while the Old Man called -up the crew and told them our destination, and if you think they were -scared or nervous or anything like that, why, you just don't know -spacemen. From oil-soaked old Jock McMurtrie, the Chief Engineer, all -the way down the line to Willy, our cabin-boy, the _Leo's_ complement -was as thrilled as a sub-deb at an Academy hop. - -John Wainwright, our First Officer, licked his chops like a fox in a -hen-house and said, "The blockade! Oboyoboy! Maybe we'll tangle with -one of the Alliance ships, hey?" - -Blinky Todd, an ordinary with highest rating, said with a sort of -macabre satisfaction, "I hopes we _do_ meet up with 'em, that's whut I -does, sir! Never did have no love for them dirty, skulkin' Outlanders, -that's whut I didn't!" - -And one of the black-gang blasters, a taciturn chap, said nothing--but -the grim set of his jaw and the purposeful way he spat on his callused -paws were mutely eloquent. - -Only one member of the crew was absent from the conclave. Our new -Slops. He was busy preparing midday mess, it seems, because scarcely -had the skipper finished talking than the audio hummed and a cheerful -call rose from the galley: - -"Soup's on! Come and get it!" - -Which we did. And whatever failings "Captain Slops" might have, he -had not exaggerated when he called himself one of the best cooks in -space. That meal, children, was a meal! When it comes to victuals -I can destroy better than describe, but there was stuff and things -and such-like, all smothered in gravy and so on, and huge quantities -of this and that and the other thing, all of them unbelievably -dee-luscious! - -Beyond a doubt it was the finest feast we of the _Leo_ had enjoyed in -a 'coon's age. Even the Old Man admitted that as, leaning back from -the table, he patted the pleasant bulge due south of his belt buckle. -He rang the bell that summoned Slops from the galley, and the little -fellow came bustling in apprehensively. - -"Was everything all right, sir?" he asked. - -"Not only all right, Slops," wheezed Captain O'Hara, "but perfect! -Accept my congratulations on a superb meal, my boy. Did you find -everything O.Q. in the galley?" - -"Captain Slops" blushed like a stereo-struck school-gal, and fidgeted -from one foot to another. - -"Oh, thank you, sir! Thank you very much. Yes, the galley was in fine -order. That is--" He hesitated--"there is one little thing, sir." - -"So? Well, speak up, son, what is it? I'll get it fixed for you right -away." The Old Man smiled archly. "Must have everything shipshape for a -tip-top chef, what?" - -The young hash-slinger still hesitated bashfully. - -"But it's such a _little_ thing, sir, I almost hate to bother you with -it." - -"No trouble at all. Just say the word." - -"Well, sir," confessed Slops reluctantly, "I need an incinerator in -the galley. The garbage-disposal system in there now is old-fashioned, -inconvenient and unsanitary. You see, I have to carry the waste down -two levels to the rocket-chamber in order to expel it." - -The skipper's brow creased. - -"I'm sorry, Slops," he said, "but I don't see how we can do anything -about that. Not just now, at any rate. That job requires equipment we -don't have aboard. After this jump is over I'll see what I can do." - -"Oh, I realize we don't have the regular equipment," said Slops shyly, -"but I've figured out a way to get the same effect with equipment we -do have. There's an old Nolan heat-cannon rusting in the storeroom. -If that could be installed by the galley vent, I could use it as an -incinerator." - -I said, "Hold everything, Slops! You can't do that! It's against -regulations. Code 44, Section xvi, says, 'Fixed armament shall be -placed only in gunnery embrasures insulated against the repercussions -of firing charges, re-radiation, or other hazards accruent to heavy -ordnance.'" - -Our little chef's face fell. "Now, that's too bad," he said -discouragedly. "I was planning a special banquet for tomorrow, with -roast marsh-duck and all the fixings, pinberry pie--but, oh, well!--if -I have no incinerator--" - -The skipper's eyes bulged, and he drooled like a pup at a barbeque. -He was a bit of a sybarite, was Captain David O'Hara; if there was -anything he dearly loved to exercise his molars on it was Venusian -marsh-duck topped with a dessert of Martian pinberry pie. He said: - -"We-e-ell, now, Mr. Dugan, let's not be too technical. After all, that -rule was put in the book only to prevent persons which shouldn't ought -to do so from having control of ordnance. But that isn't what Slops -wants the cannon for, is it, son? So I don't see any harm in rigging -up the old Nolan in the galley for incineration purposes. Did you say -_all_ the fixings, Slops?" - -Maybe I was mistaken, but for a moment I suspected I caught a queer -glint in our little chef's eyes; it might have been gratitude, or, on -the other hand, it might have been self-satisfaction. Whatever it was -it passed quickly, and Captain Slops' soft voice was smooth as silk -when he said: - -"Yes, Captain, all the fixings. I'll start cooking the meal as soon as -the new incinerator is installed." - - * * * * * - -So that was that. During the night watch two men of the crew lugged -the ancient Nolan heat cannon from stores and I went below to check. I -found young Slops bent over the old cannon, giving it a strenuous and -thorough cleaning. The way he was oiling and scrubbing at that antique -reminded me of an apprentice gunner coddling his first charge. - -I must have startled him, entering unexpectedly as I did, for when I -said, "Hi, there!" he jumped two feet and let loose a sissy little -piping squeal. Then, crimson-faced with embarrassment, he said, "Oh, -h-hello, Lieutenant. I was just getting my new incinerator shipshape. -Looks O.Q., eh?" - -"If you ask me," I said, "it looks downright lethal. The Old Man must -be off his gravs to let a young chuckle-head like you handle that toy." - -"But I'm only going to use it," he said plaintively, "to dispose of -garbage." - -"Well, don't dump your cans when there are any ships within range," I -warned him glumly, "or there'll be a mess of human scraps littering up -the void. That gun may be a museum piece, but it still packs a wallop." - -"Yes, sir," said Slops meekly. "I'll be careful how I use it, sir." - -I had finished my inspection, and I sniggered as his words reminded me -of a joke I'd heard at a spacemans' smoker. - -"Speaking of being careful, did you hear the giggler about the old maid -at the Martian baths? Well, it seems this perennial spinster wandered, -by accident, into the men's shower room and met up with a brawny young -prospector--" - -Captain Slops said, "Er--excuse me, Lieutenant, but I have to get this -marsh-duck stuffed." - -"Plenty of time, Slops. Wait till you hear this; it will kill you. The -old maid got flustered and said, 'Oh, I'm sorry! I must be in the wrong -compartment--'" - -"If you don't mind, Mr. Dugan," interrupted the cook loudly, "I'm -awfully busy. I don't have any time for--" - -"The prospector looked her over carefully for a couple of seconds; then -answered, 'That's O.Q. by me, sister. I won't--'" - -"I--I've got to go now, Lieutenant," shouted Slops. "Just remembered -something I've got to get from stores." And without even waiting to -hear the wallop at the end of my tale he fled from the galley, very -pink and flustered. - -So there was one for the log-book! Not only did our emergency chef lack -a sense of humor, but the little punk was bashful, as well! Still, it -was no skin off my nose if Slops wanted to miss the funniest yarn of a -decade. I shrugged and went back to the control turret. - - * * * * * - -All that, to make an elongated story brief, happened on the first day -out of Mars. As any schoolchild knows, it's a full hundred million from -the desert planet to the asteroid belt. In those days, there was no -such device as a Velocity-Intensifier unit, and the _Leo_, even though -she was then considered a reasonably fast little patroller, muddled -along at a mere 400,000 m.p.h. Which meant it would take us at least -ten days, perhaps more, to reach that disputed region of space around -Vesta, where the Federation outposts were sparse and the Alliance block -began. - -That period of jetting was a mingled joy and pain in the britches. -Captain Slops was responsible for both. - -For one thing, as I've hinted before, he was a bit of a panty-waist. -It wasn't so much the squeaky voice or the effeminate gestures he cut -loose with from time to time. One of the roughest, toughest scoundrels -who ever cut a throat on Venus was "High G" Gordon, who talked like a -boy soprano, and the meanest pirate who ever highjacked a freighter was -"Runt" Hake--who wore diamond ear-rings and gold fingernail polish! - -But it was Slops' general attitude that isolated him from the command -and crew. In addition to being a most awful prude, he was a kill-joy. -When just for a lark we begged him to boil us a pot of spaghetti, so we -could pour a cold worm's nest into Rick Bramble's bed, he shuddered and -refused. - -"Certainly not!" he piped indignantly. "You must be out of your minds! -I never heard of such a disgusting trick! Of course, I won't be a party -to it. Worms--Ugh!" - -"Yeah!" snorted Johnny Wainwright disdainfully, "And _ugh!_ to you, -too. Come on, Joe, let's get out of here before we give Slops bad -dreams and goose-flesh!" - -Nor was hypersensitiveness Slops' worst failing. If he was squeamish -about off-color jokes and such stuff, he had no compunctions whatsoever -against sticking his nose in where it didn't belong. - -He was an inveterate prowler. He snooped everywhere and anywhere from -ballast-bins to bunk-rooms. He quizzed the Chief about engine-room -practices, the gunner's mate on problems of ballistics, even the -cabin-boy on matters of supplies and distribution of same. He was not -only an asker; he was a teller, as well. More than once during the next -nine days he forced on the skipper the same gratuitous advice which -before had enraged the Old Man. By sheer perseverance he earned the -title I had tagged him with: "Captain Slops." - -I was willing to give him another title, too--Captain Chaos. God knows -he created enough of it! - -"It's a mistake to broach the blockade at Vesta," he argued over and -over again. - -"O.Q., Slops," the skipper would nod agreeably, with his mouth full -of some temper-softening tidbit, "you're right and I'm wrong, as you -usually are. But I'm in command of the _Leo_, and you ain't. Now, run -along like a good lad and bring me some more of this salad." - -So ten days passed, and it was on the morning of the eleventh day out -of Sand City that we ran into trouble with a capital trub. I remember -that morning well, because I was in the mess-hall having breakfast with -Cap O'Hara, and Slops was playing another variation on the old familiar -theme. - -"I glanced at the chart this morning, sir," he began as he minced in -with a platterful of golden flapjacks and an ewer of Vermont maple -syrup, "and I see we are but an hour or two off Vesta. I am very much -afraid this is our last chance to change course--" - -"And for that," chuckled the Old Man, "Hooray! Pass them pancakes, son. -Maybe now you'll stop shooting off about how we ought to of gone by way -of Iris. Mmmm! Good!" - -"Thank you, sir," said Slops mechanically. "But you realize there is -extreme danger of encountering enemy ships?" - -"Keep your pants on, Slops!" - -"Eh?" The chef looked startled. "Beg pardon, sir?" - -"I said keep your pants on. Sure, I know. And I've took precautions. -There's a double watch on duty, and men at every gun. If we do meet up -with an Alliance craft, it'll be just too bad for them! - -"Yes, sirree!" The Old Man grinned comfortably. "I almost hope we -do bump into one. After we burn it out of the void we'll have clear -sailing all the way to Callisto." - -"But--but if there should be more than one, sir?" - -"Don't be ridiculous, my boy. Why should there be?" - -"Well, for one thing," wrangled our pint-sized cook, "because rich -ekalastron deposits were recently discovered on Vesta. For another, -because Vesta's orbit is now going into aphelion stage, which will -favor a concentration of raiders." - -The skipper choked, spluttered, and disgorged a bite of half-masticated -pancake. - -"Eka--Great balls of fire! Are you sure?" - -"Of course, I'm sure. I told you days ago that I was born and raised in -the Belt, Captain." - -"I know. But why didn't you tell me about Vesta before? I mean about -the ekalastron deposits?" - -"Why--why, because--" said Slops. "Because--" - -"Don't give me lady-logic, you dope!" roared the Old Man, an enraged -lion now, his breakfast completely forgotten. "Give me a sensible -answer! If you'd told me _that_ instead of just yipping and yapping -about how via Iris was a nicer route I'd have listened to you! As it -is, we're blasting smack-dab into the face of danger. And us on the -most vital mission of the whole ding-busted war!" - -He was out of his seat, bustling to the audio, buzzing Lieutenant -Wainwright on the bridge. - -"Johnny--that you? Listen, change traj quick! Set a new course through -the Belt by way of Iris and the Bog, and hurry up, because--" - -What reason he planned to give I do not know, for he never finished -that sentence. At that moment the _Leo_ rattled like a Model AA -spacesled in an ionic storm, rolled, quivered and slewed like a drunk -on a freshly-waxed floor. The motion needed no explanation; it was -unmistakeable to any spacer who has ever hopped the blue. Our ship had -been gripped, and was now securely locked, in the clutch of a tractor -beam! - - * * * * * - -What happened next was everything at once. Officers Wainwright and -Bramble were in the turret, and they were both good sailors. They knew -their duties and how to perform them. An instant after the _Leo_ had -been assaulted, the ship bucked and slithered again, this time with the -repercussions of our own ordnance. Over the audio, which Sparks had -hastily converted into an all-way, inter-ship communicating unit, came -a jumble of voices. A call for Captain O'Hara to "Come to the bridge, -sir!" ... the harsh query of Chief McMurtrie, "Tractor beams on stern -and prow, sir. Shall I attempt to break them?" ... and a thunderous -_groooom!_ from the fore-gunnery port as a crew went into action ... a -plaintive little shriek from somebody ... maybe from Slops himself.... - -Then on an ultra-wave carrier, drowning local noises beneath waves of -sheer volume, came English words spoken with a foreign intonation. The -voice of the Alliance commander. - -"Ahoy the _Leo_! Calling the captain of the _Leo_!" - -O'Hara, his great fists knotted at his sides, called back, "O'Hara of -the _Leo_ answering. What do you want?" - -"Stand by to admit a boarding party, Captain. It is futile to resist. -You are surrounded by six armed craft, and your vessel is locked in -our tensiles. Any further effort to make combat will bring about your -immediate destruction!" - -From the bridge, topside, snarled Johnny Wainwright, "The hell with -'em, Skipper! Let's fight it out!" And elsewhere on the _Leo_ angry -voices echoed the same defi. Never in my life had I felt such a -heart-warming love for and pride in my companions as at that tense -moment. But the Old Man shook his head, and his eyes were glistening. - -"It's no use," he moaned strickenly, more to himself than to me. "I -can't sacrifice brave men in a useless cause, Dugan. I've got to--" He -faced the audio squarely. To the enemy commander he said, "Very good, -sir! In accordance with the Rules of War, I surrender into your hands!" - -The firing ceased, and a stillness like that of death blanketed the -_Leo_. - -It was then that Andy Laney, who had lingered in the galley doorway -like a frozen figuring, broke into babbling incredulous speech. - -"You--you're giving up like this?" he bleated. "Is this all you're -going to do?" - -The Old Man just looked at him, saying never a word, but that glance -would have blistered the hide off a Mercurian steelback. I'm more -impetuous. I turned on the little idiot vituperatively. - -"Shut up, you fool! Don't you realize there's not a thing we can do but -surrender? Dead, we're of no earthly use to anyone. Alive, there is -always a chance one of us may get away, bring help. We have a mission -to fulfil, an important one. Corpses can't run errands." - -"But--but if they take us prisoners," he questioned fearfully, "what -will they do with us?" - -"A concentration camp somewhere. Perhaps on Vesta." - -"And the _Leo_?" - -"Who knows? Maybe they'll send it to Jupiter with a prize crew in -command." - -"That's what I thought. But they mustn't be allowed to do that. We're -marked with the Federation tricolor!" - -A sharp retort trembled on the tip of my tongue, but I never uttered -it. Indeed, I swallowed it as comprehension dawned. There came to me -the beginnings of respect for little Andy Laney's wisdom. He had been -right about the danger of the Vesta route, as we had learned to our -cost; now he was right on this other score. - -The skipper got it, too. His jaw dropped. He said, "Heaven help us, -it's the truth! To reach Jupiter you've got to pass Callisto. If the -Callistans saw a Federation vessel, they'd send out an emissary to -greet it. Our secret would be discovered, Callisto occupied by the -enemy...." - -I think he would have turned, then, and given orders to continue the -fight even though it meant suicide for all of us. But it was too late. -Already our lock had opened to the attackers; down the metal ramp we -now heard the crisp cadence of invading footsteps. The door swung open, -and the Alliance commandant stood smiling triumphantly before us. - - * * * * * - -There are soldiers and soldiers. Fighting men, as a rule, are pretty -decent guys at the core. Having experienced danger, violence and the -crawling horror of death themselves, they know the meaning of mercy. -They respect their foes, and extend a fine magnanimity in the moment of -victory. - -Lieutenant-Colonel Ras Thuul, commander of the Third Outer Planets' -Alliance Flotilla, was not this type of enemy. Half-breed spawn of a -Jovian tribal priestess and a renegade Earthman, he retained the worst -characteristics bequeathed by each of his parents. - -From his father he had inherited height--he towered a full head above -the squat, gnarled Jovian "runts" he led--and a festering hatred -of the planet Earth. From his priestess mother he had suckled the -milk of sadistic savagery which typified Jovian civilization before -space-spanning Earthlings carried enlightenment to the far-flung -sisterhood of the Sun. - -His first words demonstrated clearly how slender was the mercy we might -expect at his hands. To Captain O'Hara he said coldly, bluntly, rudely, -"Your sidearms, Captain!" Then as the Old Man silently proffered -his personal weapons: "You will walk before me, sir, on a tour of -inspection. You might advise your men I hold you as hostage. One -hostile move from any source means your death." - -The skipper's reply was richly disdainful. - -"I have surrendered myself to you under the Rules of War, Colonel. This -play-acting is childish and altogether unnecessary." - -Ras Thuul's swarthy cheeks sallowed; he took a swift step forward and, -before one could guess his intention, slapped the Old Man viciously -across the mouth with his gauntlet. The heavy, asbestos-lined -space-glove cut and bruised; a thin trickle of blood split the -skipper's lips. - -"One in your position," snarled the invader, "should learn not to -insult his betters! Now, lead the way, Captain. There is much to be -done, and no time to waste." - -Thus began our painful journey through the conquered _Leo_. As Ras -Thuul had said, there was much to be done by his forces--nor had they -delayed in getting about their task. A laboring crew was busily engaged -in stripping the food-stuffs from our supply bins, other workmen were -dismantling all hypo and radio equipment, verifying our belief that the -O.P.A. was desperately in need of such material. Grim-faced Jovians -had herded our marksmen from the gun embrasures, and were quickly -dismantling every piece of ordnance the _Leo_ boasted. - -From room to room we went, from passage to sector to cabin. Nothing -escaped the eagle eye of our foeman. By word and sign he designated to -his henchmen those items which were to be removed, those which were to -be destroyed. Only in the control-room was everything left untouched. -It was here that Ras Thuul volunteered the explanation which proved the -depths of his infamy. With a grin of sheer savagery he explained: - -"I find it needless to waste energy in smashing this equipment, -Captain. I am sure the rocky fragments of the Bog will do that most -efficiently." - -The Old Man stared at him uncomprehendingly. - -"You--you mean you're going to wreck the _Leo_ in the Bog? Just turn it -loose and let the grindstone smash it?" - -Ras Thuul shrugged. "It is the easiest way." - -"But--" puzzled the skipper confusedly--"how about us? I mean, are you -going to take us aboard your ship, or do we get camped on one of the -asteroids, or--" - -The half-breed shrugged negligently. "Why, Captain, you wouldn't want -to desert your ship? I've always heard you Earthmen made it a point of -honor to stand by your decks. Of course I would not think of forbidding -you this signal honor." - -The skipper's face turned white, but it was not fear that drained his -cheeks of color; it was righteous rage. His words exploded like a fused -hypatomic. - -"_What!_ You _dare_ do a thing like this, Colonel! You accepted my -surrender under military covenant--" - -"That will do, Captain!" rapped Ras Thuul. "It will do you no good to -prate of technicalities. I acknowledge but one rule of war--destroy -your enemy! When this vessel has been stripped of its fuel and -supplies, I shall turn it loose in the Bog. What happens then to it--or -you--is none of my concern. Your pleas are vain, sir! - -"And now, have we seen the entire ship?" - -It was his selection of the word "pleas" that ended the Old Man's -protestations. O'Hara needed no microscope to read our adversary's -character; he knew that Ras Thuul would enjoy nothing more than -listening to pleas for mercy. If we had to die, we could at least die -like men. His jaw clamped forever on argument. - -"We have," he said. "We are now where we started." - - * * * * * - -And so we were, back in the Officers' Mess. A half hour ago our -troubles had begun here; now they threatened to end abruptly and, for -us, horribly. - -But the half-breed's eyes had narrowed. A liar and dastard himself, he -had a liar's distrust for everyone else. He nodded toward the closed -door on the farther wall. - -"We haven't been in there. Where does that lead?" - -I said caustically, "No, and there's one mouse-trap you haven't crawled -into yet, too. What's the matter? Got a tapeworm? That's just the -kitchen." - -It sounds right daring now that I see it in writing, but it was pure -braggadocio. I figured my number was up, and a few healthy insults -wouldn't make me die any deader. But our captor paid no attention. -Prodding Captain O'Hara before him, he pushed into the galley. - -Of course Captain Slops was on duty. The little guy was a study in -technicolor; sort of pink around the eyebrows, white around the lips, -and green around the gills. But I had to hand it to him, he was a -game little fighting cock. Never a cringe for the Jovian commander, -who brushed by him to peer about the cookhouse, and though the runt -warriors had taken his massive old Haemholtz when they stripped us all, -I saw he had a very large, and a very sharp, cleaver hanging not too -far from his grasp. - -Naturally, there wasn't anything for our foe to find in the galley. But -he went through all the motions, just the same. Squinted in the stove, -the refrigerator, the vegetable bins. And finally-- - -"Ah, ha!" rasped he. "What have we here? A cannon! So, Captain -O'Hara--a concealed weapon, eh? Sergeant--" - -He wheeled to one of his subalterns. But Andy Laney stepped forward -awkwardly. - -"It--er--it's not really a cannon, sir," he piped. "If you'll just -open the breech, sir, you'll see--Oh! _Do_ be careful, sir! Oh, my -goodness!" - -Because Lieutenant-Colonel Ras Thuul had hurled open the breech, and -the incinerator-cannon was full--or had been a moment before. Now -it was half empty, and the accumulation of slops and refuse as yet -unincinerated had dumped backwards all over him! - -It was the one bright spot in an otherwise dull day. Thuul howled and -bellowed, and that was a mistake because his mouth opened. Then he -spluttered. And gagged. And coughed. And backed, slipping and sliding -on cold gravy, away from the incinerator. He wasn't the impressive -figure he had been ten minutes ago. Coffee-grounds mottled his gold -tunic, and lima beans tangled coyly with his once-gleaming epaulets. -Potato-peelings draped gracefully from his ears, and the exotic odor of -a slightly antique egg exuded from his shirt-front. - -Well, what would _you_ do? Even if you knew your life was in danger, -what would you do at such a moment? - -The same as we did, of course. We laughed. The Old Man and I, we burst -out in a guffaw and rocked till we almost split our surcingles. And -Slops laughed, too, in that piping little squeal of his, though even -through his laughter he was gasping spasmodically, "I--I tried to warn -you, sir. I'm _so_ sorry! But you see it's only a garbage incinerator." - -But he who laughs last, laughs last. And if our foe had been despicable -before, he was a raging fury now. He did not even stop to scrape the -last clinging turnip-top from his jacket. He spun to his subordinates -and screamed, "Come! We are finished here! Back to our ship! I'll show -these Earthmen one does not insult a Jovian commander with impunity!" - -And his face a thundercloud of wrath, he dashed from the galley. We -heard him calling his men, heard them exiting through the airlock, and -then--silence again. - - * * * * * - -It was then, his paroxysms of mirth stifled by sober recollection, that -the Old Man turned and said, "Well, it was fun while it lasted. But -it's all over now, Dugan. Call the men together. This is the last act, -and we might as well all face it together." - -But before I could leave the room, Slops clutched my arm with fingers -tense and hot as live wires. - -"No, Joey! Don't go! I need your help. And yours, Skipper! Hurry! We -haven't a minute to lose!" - -I stared at the Old Man and he at me. "H-huh?" said the two of us. -"Help? Help for what?" - -"Oh, don't _talk_ so much!" bleated Andy. "_Work!_ Get this garbage out -of here--like this!" - -And recklessly he plunged both arms into the channel of the -incinerator, recklessly hurled it about the previously immaculate floor -of the galley. As he worked, he panted: "An incinerator, yes ... -but ... it was a good cannon ... in its ... day. It will still work. I -cleaned ... and oiled it ... and connected it to the charger. _It still -shoots!_" - -_Shoots!_ That was all we had to hear. We fell all over ourselves -trying to get an armload of that goo. I never thought I'd live to see -the day I'd go fond and blissful over a gallon of boiled noodles, but -that's just what happened. I dug in, and so did the skipper. In less -time than I've taken to tell it, we had that incinerator-cannon empty, -swabbed out and ready for use as a cannon-incinerator. - -Then the captain clapped a hand to his forehead. - -"Omigawd--I clean forgot! The firing-plate! There ain't no vision-field -for this gun!" - -"Oh, yes there is!" cried Captain Slops. "Over your head, there--the -galley-vent. I--I removed the atmosphere-duct and installed a -vision-field. Use the crossed wires for a target centering device." - -I flung open the vent. As he had said, the vent had been converted into -a perfect firing-plate. There before me, a fat and gladsome target, was -the largest of the enemy ships which had captured us, the flagship of -Ras Thuul's fleet. As I watched, I saw the commander and his boarding -party re-enter their own craft. - -I said grimly, "Well, it's six against one. They'll blast us out of -space, but by the purple gods of Pluto, we'll take at least one of them -with us. This thing is connected?" - -And I reached for the trigger. But once again Slops held my hand. - -"No, Joey! There's a fighting chance we can get _all_ of them. Wait -till they cut the tractor beams and we're free of them. Then turn the -cannon _upward_ toward the Belt--" - -"Upward?" I repeated dazedly. It didn't make sense. I glanced outside -to make sure. Here was the situation. The planetoid Vesta lay about a -mile or so below us. Larger than most of the meteoric and planetesimal -fragments that comprise the Belt, its orbit was irregular. The smaller -hunks of rock--and of course when you talk about "smaller" asteroids -that means shards ranging anywhere from a yard to several miles in -diameter, with weights ranging from a hundred pounds to twice that many -thousands of tons--were whirling and swirling _above_ our ships in a -tight, lethal little huddle. That, of course, was the _melee_ into -which Ras Thuul planned to plunge us after he cut his tractor beams. - - * * * * * - -Surprisingly, it was O'Hara who seconded Andy Laney. - -"Do what he says, Joe. I don't know exactly what he has in mind, but -it's his pigeon. He's steered us right this far; we might as well go -whole-hog." - -"Thank you, Captain!" said Slops gratefully. And as he spoke the words, -the _Leo_ rocked violently. With gathering speed we began to move away -from our erstwhile captors, their tractor beams now released. Upward -we surged toward the web-work of flailing missiles that spelled pure -destruction. - -"Now, Joey!" almost screamed Slops. "Aim the cannon at the rubble. Hold -it firm. Full strength!" - -And I did. I yanked the controls over to full power and aimed the heat -gun straight into the heart of the rubble. The radiation was invisible, -of course. Our enemies couldn't know we had an operative weapon. I held -it for seconds which dragged like centuries. Nearer we were hurtling -toward doom, nearer and nearer. - -I cried, "Nothing's happening, Skipper! We're going to crash in a -minute. I might as well turn the gun on one of their ships--" - -"_Hold it!_" shrieked Captain Slops. "It's working as I hoped. Hold it -steady, Joey!" - -And now, returning my gaze to the target, I saw what he meant. -Something strange and weird was happening--not to us or to the enemy -spacecraft, but to the Bog itself! Like a huge, churning kettle it was -seething, rolling, boiling! And even as I cried aloud my astonishment, -one of the tinier bits of matter plummeted _down_ from the overhanging -canopy of death to rattle against the hull of Ras Thuul's flagship. - -Then another ... and another ... and then a large piece. A hunk of rock -which must have weighed half a ton. It struck one of the Jovian vessels -like a sledgehammer, and a huge gap split in the spaceship's seams. -There came signs of frenzied activity from aboard the enemy boat; fire -spurted from stern-jets as engineers hurriedly warmed their rockets. - -We saw two warships, desperately trying to get under way, ram each -other head on. Three more were crushed, beaten shapeless, by the -tons of stony metal that smashed their very girders. The last, Ras -Thuul's flagship, met its doom most horribly. It was caught as in a -vise between two mountainous boulders which rolled tangentially over -it. When they separated, all that remained of a once proud ship was a -flattened, lacerated shred of tortured steel. - -[Illustration: _In the unbelievable shambles, two of the cruisers -collided._] - -It was then, and then only, that Slops said to me: - -"That's all, Joey. You can turn it off now." There was something -akin to sadness in his voice. I understood. I didn't feel any too -good myself, watching those Jovians, foes though they were, die so -frightfully. "Captain O'Hara, if we can repair the damage done by the -marauders, we can now go on to Callisto and complete our mission. -I--What's the matter, Captain?" - -Cap O'Hara was glaring at his little finger irately. - -"Matter? Why, confound it, I cut myself on that tin can. Look at this!" - -He thrust before our noses a pudgy paw, the pinky of which was leaking -very feebly. I chuckled. Not so Slops; he loosed one horrified gasp, -and-- - -"Blood!" he screamed. "Oh, gracious, I simply can't _stand_ the sight -of blood! _Oooooohh!_" - -His face went suddenly white. And--just like that!--Captain Slops -fainted dead away! - -The skipper said, "Well, I'll be damned!" Dazed, he knelt beside the -little fellow, fumbled at his jacket collar. "Ain't that the funniest -you ever saw, Dugan? Sees six ships scuttled without batting an -eye-lash, and passes out at seeing a pinprick! Aw, well, it's probably -shock more than anything else. I'll unloose his shirt, give him a -little air--" - -I said, "He's the queerest guy I ever met. But he's a _man_, Skipper." - -Then a funny thing happened. The Skipper, strangely scarlet of face, -rose suddenly from Andy's side. He croaked, "You--you wouldn't like to -lay a little bet on that, Dugan?" - -"Huh?" I said. "On what? I don't understand--" - -The Old Man moaned softly. - -"Neither do I, Dugan. But you were wrong! Slops, here, ain't no man at -all, and never was! He--_he's a girl!_" - - * * * * * - -Well, looking back on it now I can see how we should have realized it -from the beginning. Sure, Captain Slops was a girl! That high, mellow -voice ... the oversized uniform coat ... that prudishness which was not -prudishness at all, but understandable modesty. - -Later, as we were streaking the spaceways toward our Callisto -rendezvous, the _Leo_ completely repaired, we demanded and received an -explanation. I might add that in female togs the pint-sized chef looked -just the right size, and a hundred percent O.Q. - -"I didn't exactly lie about my name," she explained. "It _is_ 'Andy -Laney'--only you spell it a bit differently. I am really 'Ann -Delaney.' My father was a spaceman, so was my grandfather and my -great-grandfather. Daddy was always sorry he had a daughter instead -of a son. He wanted to see the old tradition of a 'Delaney in space' -go on. But you thick-headed males have rules against allowing women -to take to the spaceways except as passengers, so there was nothing I -could do." - -"You," I told her admiringly, "did all right." - -"More than all right!" acknowledged the Skipper. "If it hadn't been for -you--Don't worry, Miss Delaney. I'll see that the proper authorities -hear all about this. Only--" A crease puckered his forehead--"There's -something I ain't yet puzzled out. How come you ordered Mr. Dugan to -shoot not at, but above the ships? At the Bog? And how come the rocks -came tumbling down thataway?" - -"Why," smiled Ann Delaney shyly, "it was really very simple. Heat, -Captain." - -"Heat?" - -"Of course. As any student of thermodynamics knows, heat has a definite -attractive force, varying directly as the difference in temperature. -Space, being a vacuum, lacks heat entirely. Its temperature is that -of Absolute Zero. Our gun emitted a heat-force equivalent to that of -ten solar degrees. Thus the radiation we discharged at the bitter -cold fragments of rock and ore comprising the Bog created a sort of -passageway, an attractive channel down which the detritus was drawn. -To state the problem more simply: have you ever watched a pot of beans -boil? A seething whirlpool is created; the beans seek the heat." - -"By golly!" said O'Hara. "I think you got something there, Miss -Delaney. Why--why, that's terrific! That gives us a brand-new combat -technique for locations where there are small cosmic bodies. Wait till -the War Department hears it!" - -But Ann Delaney just sniffed. - -"New?" she repeated disdainfully. "New? Why, every woman cook knows -that, Captain!" - -You'll find the rest in the history books. Callisto _did_ sign a -pact with us ... the Federation _did_ open a new front almost within -spitting distance of Jupiter.... - -We've got a better universe to live in now. For one thing, there's -peace throughout the Solar System. Because of Ann Delaney, the -government changed its ruling about women in space; you'll find 'em -everywhere, nowadays, doing everything and anything men do. - -But I'm glad to say Ann isn't one of those void-vampires any more. She -and I--oh, sure! We're married now. I couldn't let a swell cook like -her get away, could I? - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Chaos, by Nelson S. 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