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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..7673a46 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63833 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63833) diff --git a/old/63833-8.txt b/old/63833-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 12d9665..0000000 --- a/old/63833-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,991 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jinx Ship to the Rescue, by Alfred Coppel - -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: Jinx Ship to the Rescue - -Author: Alfred Coppel - -Release Date: November 21, 2020 [EBook #63833] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JINX SHIP TO THE RESCUE *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - Jinx Ship To The Rescue - - By ALFRED COPPEL, JR. - - Stand by for _T.R.S. Aphrodite_, butt of the Space - Navy. She's got something terrific in her guts and only - her ice-cold lady engineer can coax it out of her! - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories Winter 1948. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -Brevet Lieutenant Commander David Farragut Strykalski III of the -Tellurian Wing, Combined Solarian Navies, stood ankle deep in the -viscous mud of Venusport Base and surveyed his new command with a -jaundiced eye. The hot, slimy, greenish rain that drenched Venusport -for two-thirds of the 720-hour day had stopped at last, but now a -miasmic fog was rising from the surrounding swampland, rolling across -the mushy landing ramp toward the grounded spaceship. Visibility was -dropping fast, and soon porto-sonar sets would have to be used to find -the way about the surface Base. It was an ordinary day on Venus. - -Strike cursed Space Admiral Gorman and all his ancestors with a wealth -of feeling. Then he motioned wearily to his companion, and together -they sloshed through the mud toward the ancient monitor. - -The scaly bulk of the Tellurian Rocket Ship _Aphrodite_ loomed -unhappily into the thick air above the two men as they reached the -ventral valve. Strike raised reluctant eyes to the sloping flank of the -fat spaceship. - -"It looks," he commented bitterly, "like a pregnant carp." - -Senior Lieutenant Coburn Whitley--"Cob" to his friends--nodded in -agreement. "That's our Lover-Girl ... old Aphrodisiac herself. The ship -with the poison personality." Cob was the _Aphrodite's_ Executive, -and he had been with her a full year ... which was a record for Execs -on the _Aphrodite_. She generally sent them Earthside with nervous -breakdowns in half that time. - -"Tell me, Captain," continued Cob curiously, "how does it happen -that you of all people happened to draw this tub for a command? I -thought...." - -"You know Gorman?" queried Strykalski. - -Cob nodded. "Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. Old Brass-bottom Gorman?" - -"The same." - -"Well," Cob ran a hand over his chin speculatively, "I know Gorman's -a prize stinker ... but you were in command of the _Ganymede_. And, -after all, you come from an old service family and all that. How come -this?" He indicated the monitor expressively. - -Strike sighed. "Well, now, Cob, I'll tell you. You'll be spacing with -me and I guess you've a right to know the worst ... not that you -wouldn't find it out anyway. I come from a long line of very sharp -operators. Seven generations of officers and gentlemen. Lousy with -tradition. - -"The first David Farragut Strykalski, son of a sea-loving Polish -immigrant, emerged from World War II a four-striper and Congressional -Medal winner. Then came David Farragut Strykalski, Jr., and, in the -abortive Atomic War that terrified the world in 1961, he won a United -Nations Peace Citation. And then came David Farragut Strykalski III ... -me. - -"From such humble beginnings do great traditions grow. But something -happened when I came into the picture. I don't fit with the rest of -them. Call it luck or temperament or what have you. - -"In the first place I seem to have an uncanny talent for saying the -wrong thing to the wrong person. Gorman for example. And I take too -much on my own initiative. Gorman doesn't like that. I lost the -_Ganymede_ because I left my station where I was supposed to be running -section-lines to take on a bunch of colonists I thought were in -danger...." - -"The Procyon A people?" asked Cob. - -"So you've heard about it." Strike shook his head sadly. "My tactical -astrophysicist warned me that Procyon A might go nova. I left my -routine post and loaded up on colonists." He shrugged. "Wrong guess. No -nova. I made an ass of myself and lost the _Ganymede_. Gorman gave it -to his former aide. I got this." - -Cob coughed slightly. "I heard something about Ley City, too." - -"Me again. The _Ganymede's_ whole crew ended up in the Luna Base brig. -We celebrated a bit too freely." - -Cob Whitley looked admiringly at his new Commander. "That was the night -after the _Ganymede_ broke the record for the Centaurus B-Earth run, -wasn't it? And then wasn't there something about...." - -"Canalopolis?" - -Whitley nodded. - -"That time I called the Martian Ambassador a spy. It was at a Tellurian -Embassy Ball." - -"I begin to see what you mean, Captain." - -"Strike's the name, Cob." - -Whitley's smile was expansive. "Strike, I think you're going to like -our old tin pot here." He patted the _Aphrodite's_ nether belly -affectionately. "She's old ... but she's loose. And we're not likely to -meet any Ambassadors or Admirals with her, either." - -Strykalski sighed, still thinking of his sleek _Ganymede_. "She'll -carry the mail, I suppose. And that's about all that's expected of her." - -Cob shrugged philosophically. "Better than tanking that stinking rocket -fuel, anyway. Deep space?" - -Strike shook his head. "Venus-Mars." - -Cob scratched his chin speculatively. "Perihelion run. Hot work." - -Strike was again looking at the spaceship's unprepossessing exterior. -"A surge-circuit monitor, so help me." - -Cob nodded agreement. "The last of her class." - - * * * * * - -And she was not an inspiring sight. The fantastically misnamed -_Aphrodite_ was a surge-circuit monitor of twenty guns built some ten -years back in the period immediately preceding the Ionian Subjugation -Incident. She had been designed primarily for atomics, with a -surge-circuit set-up for interstellar flight. At least that was the -planner's view. In those days, interstellar astrogation was in its -formative stage, and at the time of the _Aphrodite's_ launching the -surge-circuit was hailed as the very latest in space drives. - -Her designer, Harlan Hendricks, had been awarded a Legion of Merit -for her, and every silver-braided admiral in the Fleet had dreamed -of hoisting his flag on one of her class. There had been three. The -_Artemis_, the _Andromeda_, and the prototype ... old Aphrodisiac. The -three vessels had gone into action off Callisto after the Phobos Raid -had set off hostilities between the Ionians and the Solarian Combine. - -All three were miserable failures. - -The eager officers commanding the three monitors had found the circuit -too appealing to their hot little hands. They used it ... in some way, -wrongly. - -The _Artemis_ exploded. The _Andromeda_ vanished in the general -direction of Coma Berenices glowing white hot from the heat of a -ruptured fission chamber and spewing gamma rays in all directions. -And the _Aphrodite's_ starboard tubes blew, causing her to spend her -store of vicious energy spinning like a Fourth of July pinwheel under -20 gravities until all her interior fittings ... including crew were a -tangled, pulpy mess within her pressure hull. - -The _Aphrodite_ was refitted for space. And because it was an integral -part of her design, the circuit was rebuilt ... and sealed. She became -a workhorse, growing more cantankerous with each passing year. She -carried personnel.... She trucked ores. She ferried skeeterboats and -tanked rocket fuel. Now, she would carry the mail. She would lift from -Venusport and jet to Canalopolis, Mars, without delay or variation. -Regulations, tradition and Admiral Gorman of the Inner Planet Fleet -required it. And it was now up to David Farragut Strykalski III to see -to it that she did.... - -The Officer of the Deck, a trim blonde girl in spotless greys saluted -smartly as Strike and Cob stepped through the valve. - -Strike felt vaguely uncomfortable. He knew, of course, that at least a -third of the personnel on board non-combat vessels of the Inner Planet -Fleet was female, but he had never actually had women on board a ship -of his own, and he felt quite certain that he preferred them elsewhere. - -Cob sensed his discomfort. "That was Celia Graham, Strike. Ensign. -Radar Officer. She's good, too." - -Strike shook his head. "Don't like women in space. They make me -uncomfortable." - -Cob shrugged. "Celia's the only officer. But about a quarter of our -ratings are women." He grinned maliciously. "Equal rights, you know." - -"No doubt," commented the other sourly. "Is that why they named -this ... ship 'Aphrodite'?" - -Whitley saw fit to consider the question rhetorical and remained silent. - -Strike lowered his head to clear the arch of the flying-bridge -bulkhead. Cob followed. He trailed his Captain through a jungle -of chrome piping to the main control panels. Strike sank into an -acceleration chair in front of the red DANGER seal on the surge-circuit -rheostat. - -"Looks like a drug-store fountain, doesn't it?" commented Cob. - -Strykalski nodded sadly, thinking of the padded smoothness of the -_Ganymede's_ flying-bridge. "But she's home to us, anyway." - -The thick Venusian fog had closed in around the top levels of the ship, -hugging the ports and cutting off all view of the field outside. Strike -reached for the squawk-box control. - -"Now hear this. All officer personnel will assemble in the flying -bridge at 600 hours for Captain's briefing. Officer of the Deck will -recall any enlisted personnel now on liberty...." - -Whitley was on his feet, all the slackness gone from his manner. -"Orders, Captain?" - -"We can't do anything until the new Engineering Officer gets here. -They're sending someone down from the _Antigone_, and I expect him by -600 hours. In the meantime you'll take over his part of the work. See -to it that we are fueled and ready to lift ship by 602. Base will start -loading the mail at 599:30. That's about all." - -"Yes, sir." Whitley saluted and turned to go. At the bulkhead, he -paused. "Captain," he asked, "Who is the new E/O to be?" - -Strike stretched his long legs out on the steel deck. "A Lieutenant -Hendricks, I. V. Hendricks, is what the orders say." - -Cob thought hard for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. "I. V. -Hendricks." He shook his head. "Don't know him." - - * * * * * - -The other officers of the _T.R.S. Aphrodite_ were in conference with -the Captain when Cob and the girl at his side reached the flying -bridge. She was tall and dark-haired with regular features and pale -blue eyes. She wore a service jumper with two silver stripes on the -shoulder-straps, and even the shapeless garment could not hide the -obvious trimness of her figure. - -Strike's back was toward the bulkhead, and he was addressing the others. - -"... and that's about the story. We are to jet within 28,000,000 miles -of Sol. Orbit is trans-Mercurian hyperbolic. With Mars in opposition, -we have to make a perihelion run and it won't be pleasant. But I'm -certain this old boiler can take it. I understand the old boy who -designed her wasn't as incompetent as they say. But Space Regs are -specific about mail runs. This is important to you, Evans. Your -astrogation has to be accurate to within twenty-five miles plus or -minus the shortest route. And there'll be no breaking orbit. Now be -certain that the refrigeration units are checked, Mister Wilkins, -especially in the hydroponic cells. Pure air is going to be important." - -"That's about all there is to tell you. As soon as our rather -leisurely E/O gets here, we can jet with Aunt Nelly's postcard." He -nodded. "That's the story. Lift ship in...." He glanced at his wrist -chronograph, "... in an hour and five." - -The officers filed out and Cob Whitley stuck his head into the room. -"Captain?" - -"Come in, Cob." Strike's dark brows knit at the sight of the uniformed -girl in the doorway. - -Cob's face was sober, but hidden amusement was kindling behind his -eyes. "Captain, may I present Lieutenant Hendricks? Lieutenant _I-vy_ -Hendricks?" - -Strike looked blankly at the girl. - -"Our new E/O, Captain," prompted Whitley. - -"Uh ... welcome aboard, Miss Hendricks," was all the Captain could find -to say. - -The girl's eyes were cold and unfriendly. "Thank you, Captain." Her -voice was like cracked ice tinkling in a glass. "If I may have your -permission to inspect the drives, Captain, I _may_ be able to -convince you that the designer of this vessel was not ... as you seem -to think ... a senile incompetent." - -Strike was perplexed, and he showed it. "Why, certainly ... uh ... -Miss ... but why should you be so...." - -The girl's voice was even colder than before as she said, "Harlan -Hendricks, Captain, is my father." - - * * * * * - -A week in space had convinced Strike that he commanded a jinx ship. -Jetting sunward from Venus, the cantankerous _Aphrodite_ had burned a -steering tube through, and it had been necessary to go into free-fall -while Jenkins, the Assistant E/O, and a damage control party effected -repairs. When the power was again applied, Old Aphrodisiac was running -ten hours behind schedule, and Strike and Evans, the Astrogation -Officer, were sweating out the unforeseen changes introduced into the -orbital calculations by the time spent in free-fall. - -The _Aphrodite_ rumbled on toward the orbit of Mercury.... - -For all the tension between the occupants of the flying-bridge, Strike -and Ivy Hendricks worked well together. And after a second week in -space, a reluctant admiration was replacing the resentment between -them. Ivy spent whatever time she could spare tinkering with her -father's pet surge-circuit and Strike began to realize that there was -little she did not know about spaceship engineering. Then, too, Ivy -spent a lot of time at the controls, and Strike was forced to admit -that he had never seen a finer job of piloting done by man or woman. - -And finally, Ivy hated old Brass-bottom Gorman even more than Strike -did. She felt that Gorman had ruined her father's career, and she was -dedicating her life to proving her father right and Brass-bottom wrong. -There's nothing in the cosmos to nurture friendship like a common enemy. - -At 30,000,000 miles from the sun, the _Aphrodite's_ refrigeration -units could no longer keep the interior of the ship at a comfortable -temperature. The thermometer stood at 102°F, the very metal of -the ship's fittings hot to the touch. Uniforms were discarded, -insignia of rank vanished. The men dressed in fiberglass shorts and -spaceboots, sweat making their naked bodies gleam like copper under the -sodium-vapor lights. The women in the crew added only light blouses to -their shorts ... and suffered from extra clothing. - -Strike was in the observation blister forward, when Ensign Graham -called to say that she had picked up a radar contact sunward. The -IFF showed the pips to be the _Lachesis_ and the _Atropos_. The two -dreadnaughts were engaged in coronary research patrol ... a purely -routine business. But the thing that made Strike curse under his breath -was Celia Graham's notation that the _Atropos_ carried none other than -Space Admiral Horatio Gorman, Cominch Inplan. - -Strike thought it a pity that old Brass-bottom couldn't fall into -Hell's hottest pit ... and he told Ivy so. - -And she agreed. - - * * * * * - -Old Aphrodisiac had reached perihelion when it happened. The -thermometer stood at 135° and tempers were snapping. Cob and Celia -Graham had tangled about some minor point concerning Lover-Girl's -weight and balance. Ivy went about her work on the bridge without -speaking, and Strike made no attempt to brighten her sudden depression. -Lieutenant Evans had punched Bayne, the Tactical Astrophysicist, -in the eye for some disparaging remark about Southern California -womanhood. The ratings were grumbling about the food.... - -And then it happened. - -Cob was in the radio room when Sparks pulled the flimsy from the -scrambler. It was a distress signal from the _Lachesis_. The -_Atropos_ had burst a fission chamber and was falling into the sun. -Radiation made a transfer of personnel impossible, and the _Atropos_ -skeeterboats didn't have the power to pull away from the looming star. -The _Lachesis_ had a line on the sister dreadnaught and was valiantly -trying to pull the heavy vessel to safety, but even the thundering -power of the _Lachesis'_ mighty drive wasn't enough to break Sol's -deathgrip on the battleship. - -A fleet of souped-up space-tugs was on its way from Luna and Venusport, -but they could not possibly arrive on time. And it was doubtful that -even the tugs had the necessary power to drag the crippled _Atropos_ -away from a fiery end. - -Cob snatched the flimsy from Sparks' hands and galloped for the -flying-bridge. He burst in and waved the message excitedly in front of -Strykalski's face. - -"Have a look at this! Ye gods and little catfish! Read it!" - -"Well, dammit, hold it still so I can!" snapped Strike. He read the -message and passed it to Ivy Hendricks with a shake of his head. - -She read it through and looked up exultantly. "This is _it_! This is -the chance I've been praying for, Strike!" - -He returned her gaze sourly. "For Gorman to fall into the sun? I recall -I said something of the sort myself, but there are other men on those -ships. And, if I know Captain Varni on the _Lachesis_, he won't let go -that line even if he fries himself." - -Ivy's eyes snapped angrily. "That's not what I meant, and you know it! -I mean this!" She touched the red-sealed surge-circuit rheostat. - -"That's very nice, Lieutenant," commented Cob drily. "And I know that -you've been very busy adjusting that gismo. But I seem to recall that -the last time that circuit was uncorked everyone aboard became part of -the woodwork ... very messily, too." - -"Let me understand you, Ivy," said Strike in a flat voice. "What you -are suggesting is that I risk my ship and the lives of all of us trying -to pull old Gorman's fat out of the fire with a drive that's blown -skyhigh three times out of three. Very neat." - -There were tears bright in Ivy Hendricks' eyes and she sounded -desperate. "But we can save those ships! We can, I _know_ we can! My -father designed this ship! I know every rivet of her! Those idiots off -Callisto didn't know what they were doing. These ships needed specially -trained men. Father told them that! And I'm trained! I can take her in -and save those ships!" Her expression turned to one of disgust. "Or are -you afraid?" - -"Frankly, Ivy, I haven't enough sense to be afraid. But are you so -certain that we can pull this off? If I make a mistake this time ... -it'll be the last. For all of us." - -"We can do it," said Ivy Hendricks simply. - -Strike turned to Cob. "What do you say, Cob? Shall we make it hotter in -here?" - -Whitley shrugged. "If you say so, Strike. It's good enough for me." - -Celia Graham left the bridge shaking her head. "We'll all be dead soon. -And me so young and pretty." - -Strike turned to the squawk-box. "Evans!" - -"Evans here," came the reply. - -"Have Sparks get a DF fix on the _Atropos_ and hold it. We'll home on -their carrier wave. They're in trouble and we're going after them. Plot -the course." - -"Yes, Captain." - -Strike turned to Cob. "Have the gun-crews stand by to relieve the -black-gang in the tube rooms. It's going to get hotter than the hinges -of hell down there and we'll have to shorten shifts." - -"Yes, sir!" Cob saluted and was gone. - -Strike returned to the squawk-box. "Radar!" - -"Graham here," replied Celia from her station. - -"Get a radar fix on the _Lachesis_ and hold it. Send your dope up to -Evans and tell him to send us a range estimate." - -"Yes, Captain," the girl replied crisply. - -"Gun deck!" - -"Gun deck here, sir," came a feminine voice. - -"Have number two starboard torpedo tube loaded with a fish and a spool -of cable. Be ready to let fly on short notice ... any range." - -"Yes, sir!" The girl switched off. - -"And now you, Miss Hendricks." - -"Yes, Captain?" Her voice was low. - -"Take over Control ... and Ivy...." - -"Yes?" - -"Don't kill us off." He smiled down at her. - -She nodded silently and took her place at the control panel. Smoothly -she turned old Aphrodisiac's nose sunward.... - - * * * * * - -Lashed together with a length of unbreakable beryllium steel cable, -the _Lachesis_ and the _Atropos_ fell helplessly toward the sun. The -frantic flame that lashed out from the _Lachesis'_ tube was fading, her -fission chambers fusing under the terrific heat of splitting atoms. -Still she tried. She could not desert her sister ship, nor could she -save her. Already the two ships had fallen to within 18,000,000 miles -of the sun's terrifying atmosphere of glowing gases. The prominences -that spouted spaceward seemed like great fiery tentacles reaching for -the trapped men on board the warships. The atmospheric guiding fins, -the gun-turrets and other protuberances on both ships were beginning -to melt under the fierce radiance. Only the huge refrigeration plants -on the vessels made life within them possible. And, even so, men were -dying. - -Swiftly, the fat, ungainly shape of old Aphrodisiac drew near. In her -flying-bridge, Strike and Ivy Hendricks watched the stricken ships in -the darkened viewport. - -The temperature stood at 140° and the air was bitter with the smell -of hot metal. Ivy's blouse clung to her body, soaked through with -perspiration. Sweat ran from her hair into her eyes and she gasped -for breath in the oven hot compartment. Strike watched her with -apprehension. - -Carefully, Ivy circled the two warships. From the starboard tube on -the gun-deck, a homing rocket leapt toward the _Atropos_. It plunged -straight and true, spilling cable as it flew. It slammed up against -the hull, and stuck there, fast to the battleship's flank. Quickly, -a robocrane drew it within the ship and the cable was made secure. -Like cosmic replicas of the ancient South American "bolas," the three -spacecraft whirled in space ... and all three began that sunward plunge -together. - -[Illustration: _They were diving into the sun._] - -The heat in the _Aphrodite's_ bridge was unbearable. The thermometer -showed 145° and it seemed to Strike that Hell must be cool by -comparison. - -Ivy fought her reeling senses and the bucking ship as the slack came -out of the cable. Blackness was flickering at the edges of her field -of vision. She could scarcely lift her hand to the red-sealed circuit -rheostat. Shudderingly, she made the effort ... and failed. Conscious, -but too spent to move, she collapsed over the blistering hot instrument -panel. - -"_Ivy!_" Strike was beside her, cradling her head in his arm. - -"I ... I ... can't make it ... Strike. You'll ... have to run ... the -show ... after ... all." - -Strike laid her gently in an acceleration chair and turned toward the -control panel. His head was throbbing painfully as he broke the seal on -the surge-circuit. - -Slowly he turned the rheostat. Relays chattered. From deep within -old Lover-Girl's vitals came a low whine. He fed more power into the -circuit. Cadmium rods slipped into lead sheaths decks below in the -tube-rooms. The whining rose in pitch. The spinning of the ships in -space slowed. Stopped. With painful deliberation, they swung into line. - -More power. The whine changed to a shriek. A banshee wail. - -Cob's voice came through the squawk-box, soberly. "Strike, Celia's -fainted down here. We can't take much more of this heat." - -"We're trying, Cob!" shouted Strike over the whine of the circuit. The -gauges showed the accumulators full. "_Now!_" He spun the rheostat to -the stops, and black space burst over his brain.... - -The last thing he remembered was a voice. It sounded like Bayne's. And -it was shouting. "We're moving 'em! We're pulling away! We're...." And -that was all. - -The space-tug _Scylla_ found them. - -The three ships ... _Atropos_, _Lachesis_, and old Aphrodisiac ... -lashed together and drifting in space. Every man and woman aboard out -cold from the acceleration, and _Aphrodite's_ tanks bone dry. But they -were a safe 80,000,000 miles from Sol.... - - * * * * * - -The orchestra was subdued, the officer's club softly lighted. Cob -leaned his elbow on the bar and bent to inspect the blue ribbon of the -Spatial Cross on Strike's chest. Then he inspected his own and nodded -with tipsy satisfaction. He stared out at the Martian night beyond the -broad windows and back again at Strike. His frown was puzzled. - -"All right," said Strike, setting down his glass. "What's on your mind, -Cob? Something's eating you." - -Whitley nodded very slowly. He took a long pull at his highball. "I -understand that you goofballed your chances of getting the _Ganymede_ -back when Gorman spoke his piece to you...." - -"All I said to him...." - -"I know. I know what you said ... and it won't bear repeating. But -you're not fooling me. You've fallen for old Lover-Girl and you don't -want to leave her. Ver-ry commendable. Loyal! Stout fellah! But what -about Ivy?" - -"Ivy?" - -Cob looked away. "I thought that you and she ... well, I thought that -when we got back ... well...." - -Strike shook his head. "She's gone to the Bureau of Ships with a -designing job." - -Cob waved an expressive arm in the air. "But dammit, man, I thought...." - -"The answer is _no_. Ivy's a nice girl ... but...." He paused and -sighed. "Since she was promoted to her father's old rank ... well...." -He shrugged. "Who wants a wife that ranks you?" - -"Never thought of that," mused Cob. For a long while he was silent; -then he pulled out an address book and leafed through until he came to -the pages marked "Canalopolis, Mars." - -And he was gratified to see that Lieutenant Commander David Farragut -Strykalski III was doing the same. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Jinx Ship to the Rescue, by Alfred Coppel - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JINX SHIP TO THE RESCUE *** - -***** This file should be named 63833-8.txt or 63833-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/8/3/63833/ - -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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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: Jinx Ship to the Rescue - -Author: Alfred Coppel - -Release Date: November 21, 2020 [EBook #63833] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JINX SHIP TO THE RESCUE *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>Jinx Ship To The Rescue</h1> - -<h2>By ALFRED COPPEL, JR.</h2> - -<p>Stand by for <i>T.R.S. Aphrodite</i>, butt of the Space<br /> -Navy. She's got something terrific in her guts and only<br /> -her ice-cold lady engineer can coax it out of her!</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories Winter 1948.<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>Brevet Lieutenant Commander David Farragut Strykalski III of the -Tellurian Wing, Combined Solarian Navies, stood ankle deep in the -viscous mud of Venusport Base and surveyed his new command with a -jaundiced eye. The hot, slimy, greenish rain that drenched Venusport -for two-thirds of the 720-hour day had stopped at last, but now a -miasmic fog was rising from the surrounding swampland, rolling across -the mushy landing ramp toward the grounded spaceship. Visibility was -dropping fast, and soon porto-sonar sets would have to be used to find -the way about the surface Base. It was an ordinary day on Venus.</p> - -<p>Strike cursed Space Admiral Gorman and all his ancestors with a wealth -of feeling. Then he motioned wearily to his companion, and together -they sloshed through the mud toward the ancient monitor.</p> - -<p>The scaly bulk of the Tellurian Rocket Ship <i>Aphrodite</i> loomed -unhappily into the thick air above the two men as they reached the -ventral valve. Strike raised reluctant eyes to the sloping flank of the -fat spaceship.</p> - -<p>"It looks," he commented bitterly, "like a pregnant carp."</p> - -<p>Senior Lieutenant Coburn Whitley—"Cob" to his friends—nodded in -agreement. "That's our Lover-Girl ... old Aphrodisiac herself. The ship -with the poison personality." Cob was the <i>Aphrodite's</i> Executive, -and he had been with her a full year ... which was a record for Execs -on the <i>Aphrodite</i>. She generally sent them Earthside with nervous -breakdowns in half that time.</p> - -<p>"Tell me, Captain," continued Cob curiously, "how does it happen -that you of all people happened to draw this tub for a command? I -thought...."</p> - -<p>"You know Gorman?" queried Strykalski.</p> - -<p>Cob nodded. "Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. Old Brass-bottom Gorman?"</p> - -<p>"The same."</p> - -<p>"Well," Cob ran a hand over his chin speculatively, "I know Gorman's -a prize stinker ... but you were in command of the <i>Ganymede</i>. And, -after all, you come from an old service family and all that. How come -this?" He indicated the monitor expressively.</p> - -<p>Strike sighed. "Well, now, Cob, I'll tell you. You'll be spacing with -me and I guess you've a right to know the worst ... not that you -wouldn't find it out anyway. I come from a long line of very sharp -operators. Seven generations of officers and gentlemen. Lousy with -tradition.</p> - -<p>"The first David Farragut Strykalski, son of a sea-loving Polish -immigrant, emerged from World War II a four-striper and Congressional -Medal winner. Then came David Farragut Strykalski, Jr., and, in the -abortive Atomic War that terrified the world in 1961, he won a United -Nations Peace Citation. And then came David Farragut Strykalski III ... -me.</p> - -<p>"From such humble beginnings do great traditions grow. But something -happened when I came into the picture. I don't fit with the rest of -them. Call it luck or temperament or what have you.</p> - -<p>"In the first place I seem to have an uncanny talent for saying the -wrong thing to the wrong person. Gorman for example. And I take too -much on my own initiative. Gorman doesn't like that. I lost the -<i>Ganymede</i> because I left my station where I was supposed to be running -section-lines to take on a bunch of colonists I thought were in -danger...."</p> - -<p>"The Procyon A people?" asked Cob.</p> - -<p>"So you've heard about it." Strike shook his head sadly. "My tactical -astrophysicist warned me that Procyon A might go nova. I left my -routine post and loaded up on colonists." He shrugged. "Wrong guess. No -nova. I made an ass of myself and lost the <i>Ganymede</i>. Gorman gave it -to his former aide. I got this."</p> - -<p>Cob coughed slightly. "I heard something about Ley City, too."</p> - -<p>"Me again. The <i>Ganymede's</i> whole crew ended up in the Luna Base brig. -We celebrated a bit too freely."</p> - -<p>Cob Whitley looked admiringly at his new Commander. "That was the night -after the <i>Ganymede</i> broke the record for the Centaurus B-Earth run, -wasn't it? And then wasn't there something about...."</p> - -<p>"Canalopolis?"</p> - -<p>Whitley nodded.</p> - -<p>"That time I called the Martian Ambassador a spy. It was at a Tellurian -Embassy Ball."</p> - -<p>"I begin to see what you mean, Captain."</p> - -<p>"Strike's the name, Cob."</p> - -<p>Whitley's smile was expansive. "Strike, I think you're going to like -our old tin pot here." He patted the <i>Aphrodite's</i> nether belly -affectionately. "She's old ... but she's loose. And we're not likely to -meet any Ambassadors or Admirals with her, either."</p> - -<p>Strykalski sighed, still thinking of his sleek <i>Ganymede</i>. "She'll -carry the mail, I suppose. And that's about all that's expected of her."</p> - -<p>Cob shrugged philosophically. "Better than tanking that stinking rocket -fuel, anyway. Deep space?"</p> - -<p>Strike shook his head. "Venus-Mars."</p> - -<p>Cob scratched his chin speculatively. "Perihelion run. Hot work."</p> - -<p>Strike was again looking at the spaceship's unprepossessing exterior. -"A surge-circuit monitor, so help me."</p> - -<p>Cob nodded agreement. "The last of her class."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>And she was not an inspiring sight. The fantastically misnamed -<i>Aphrodite</i> was a surge-circuit monitor of twenty guns built some ten -years back in the period immediately preceding the Ionian Subjugation -Incident. She had been designed primarily for atomics, with a -surge-circuit set-up for interstellar flight. At least that was the -planner's view. In those days, interstellar astrogation was in its -formative stage, and at the time of the <i>Aphrodite's</i> launching the -surge-circuit was hailed as the very latest in space drives.</p> - -<p>Her designer, Harlan Hendricks, had been awarded a Legion of Merit -for her, and every silver-braided admiral in the Fleet had dreamed -of hoisting his flag on one of her class. There had been three. The -<i>Artemis</i>, the <i>Andromeda</i>, and the prototype ... old Aphrodisiac. The -three vessels had gone into action off Callisto after the Phobos Raid -had set off hostilities between the Ionians and the Solarian Combine.</p> - -<p>All three were miserable failures.</p> - -<p>The eager officers commanding the three monitors had found the circuit -too appealing to their hot little hands. They used it ... in some way, -wrongly.</p> - -<p>The <i>Artemis</i> exploded. The <i>Andromeda</i> vanished in the general -direction of Coma Berenices glowing white hot from the heat of a -ruptured fission chamber and spewing gamma rays in all directions. -And the <i>Aphrodite's</i> starboard tubes blew, causing her to spend her -store of vicious energy spinning like a Fourth of July pinwheel under -20 gravities until all her interior fittings ... including crew were a -tangled, pulpy mess within her pressure hull.</p> - -<p>The <i>Aphrodite</i> was refitted for space. And because it was an integral -part of her design, the circuit was rebuilt ... and sealed. She became -a workhorse, growing more cantankerous with each passing year. She -carried personnel.... She trucked ores. She ferried skeeterboats and -tanked rocket fuel. Now, she would carry the mail. She would lift from -Venusport and jet to Canalopolis, Mars, without delay or variation. -Regulations, tradition and Admiral Gorman of the Inner Planet Fleet -required it. And it was now up to David Farragut Strykalski III to see -to it that she did....</p> - -<p>The Officer of the Deck, a trim blonde girl in spotless greys saluted -smartly as Strike and Cob stepped through the valve.</p> - -<p>Strike felt vaguely uncomfortable. He knew, of course, that at least a -third of the personnel on board non-combat vessels of the Inner Planet -Fleet was female, but he had never actually had women on board a ship -of his own, and he felt quite certain that he preferred them elsewhere.</p> - -<p>Cob sensed his discomfort. "That was Celia Graham, Strike. Ensign. -Radar Officer. She's good, too."</p> - -<p>Strike shook his head. "Don't like women in space. They make me -uncomfortable."</p> - -<p>Cob shrugged. "Celia's the only officer. But about a quarter of our -ratings are women." He grinned maliciously. "Equal rights, you know."</p> - -<p>"No doubt," commented the other sourly. "Is that why they named -this ... ship 'Aphrodite'?"</p> - -<p>Whitley saw fit to consider the question rhetorical and remained silent.</p> - -<p>Strike lowered his head to clear the arch of the flying-bridge -bulkhead. Cob followed. He trailed his Captain through a jungle -of chrome piping to the main control panels. Strike sank into an -acceleration chair in front of the red DANGER seal on the surge-circuit -rheostat.</p> - -<p>"Looks like a drug-store fountain, doesn't it?" commented Cob.</p> - -<p>Strykalski nodded sadly, thinking of the padded smoothness of the -<i>Ganymede's</i> flying-bridge. "But she's home to us, anyway."</p> - -<p>The thick Venusian fog had closed in around the top levels of the ship, -hugging the ports and cutting off all view of the field outside. Strike -reached for the squawk-box control.</p> - -<p>"Now hear this. All officer personnel will assemble in the flying -bridge at 600 hours for Captain's briefing. Officer of the Deck will -recall any enlisted personnel now on liberty...."</p> - -<p>Whitley was on his feet, all the slackness gone from his manner. -"Orders, Captain?"</p> - -<p>"We can't do anything until the new Engineering Officer gets here. -They're sending someone down from the <i>Antigone</i>, and I expect him by -600 hours. In the meantime you'll take over his part of the work. See -to it that we are fueled and ready to lift ship by 602. Base will start -loading the mail at 599:30. That's about all."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir." Whitley saluted and turned to go. At the bulkhead, he -paused. "Captain," he asked, "Who is the new E/O to be?"</p> - -<p>Strike stretched his long legs out on the steel deck. "A Lieutenant -Hendricks, I. V. Hendricks, is what the orders say."</p> - -<p>Cob thought hard for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. "I. V. -Hendricks." He shook his head. "Don't know him."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The other officers of the <i>T.R.S. Aphrodite</i> were in conference with -the Captain when Cob and the girl at his side reached the flying -bridge. She was tall and dark-haired with regular features and pale -blue eyes. She wore a service jumper with two silver stripes on the -shoulder-straps, and even the shapeless garment could not hide the -obvious trimness of her figure.</p> - -<p>Strike's back was toward the bulkhead, and he was addressing the others.</p> - -<p>"... and that's about the story. We are to jet within 28,000,000 miles -of Sol. Orbit is trans-Mercurian hyperbolic. With Mars in opposition, -we have to make a perihelion run and it won't be pleasant. But I'm -certain this old boiler can take it. I understand the old boy who -designed her wasn't as incompetent as they say. But Space Regs are -specific about mail runs. This is important to you, Evans. Your -astrogation has to be accurate to within twenty-five miles plus or -minus the shortest route. And there'll be no breaking orbit. Now be -certain that the refrigeration units are checked, Mister Wilkins, -especially in the hydroponic cells. Pure air is going to be important."</p> - -<p>"That's about all there is to tell you. As soon as our rather -leisurely E/O gets here, we can jet with Aunt Nelly's postcard." He -nodded. "That's the story. Lift ship in...." He glanced at his wrist -chronograph, "... in an hour and five."</p> - -<p>The officers filed out and Cob Whitley stuck his head into the room. -"Captain?"</p> - -<p>"Come in, Cob." Strike's dark brows knit at the sight of the uniformed -girl in the doorway.</p> - -<p>Cob's face was sober, but hidden amusement was kindling behind his -eyes. "Captain, may I present Lieutenant Hendricks? Lieutenant <i>I-vy</i> -Hendricks?"</p> - -<p>Strike looked blankly at the girl.</p> - -<p>"Our new E/O, Captain," prompted Whitley.</p> - -<p>"Uh ... welcome aboard, Miss Hendricks," was all the Captain could find -to say.</p> - -<p>The girl's eyes were cold and unfriendly. "Thank you, Captain." Her -voice was like cracked ice tinkling in a glass. "If I may have your -permission to inspect the drives, Captain, I <i>may</i> be able to -convince you that the designer of this vessel was not ... as you seem -to think ... a senile incompetent."</p> - -<p>Strike was perplexed, and he showed it. "Why, certainly ... uh ... -Miss ... but why should you be so...."</p> - -<p>The girl's voice was even colder than before as she said, "Harlan -Hendricks, Captain, is my father."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A week in space had convinced Strike that he commanded a jinx ship. -Jetting sunward from Venus, the cantankerous <i>Aphrodite</i> had burned a -steering tube through, and it had been necessary to go into free-fall -while Jenkins, the Assistant E/O, and a damage control party effected -repairs. When the power was again applied, Old Aphrodisiac was running -ten hours behind schedule, and Strike and Evans, the Astrogation -Officer, were sweating out the unforeseen changes introduced into the -orbital calculations by the time spent in free-fall.</p> - -<p>The <i>Aphrodite</i> rumbled on toward the orbit of Mercury....</p> - -<p>For all the tension between the occupants of the flying-bridge, Strike -and Ivy Hendricks worked well together. And after a second week in -space, a reluctant admiration was replacing the resentment between -them. Ivy spent whatever time she could spare tinkering with her -father's pet surge-circuit and Strike began to realize that there was -little she did not know about spaceship engineering. Then, too, Ivy -spent a lot of time at the controls, and Strike was forced to admit -that he had never seen a finer job of piloting done by man or woman.</p> - -<p>And finally, Ivy hated old Brass-bottom Gorman even more than Strike -did. She felt that Gorman had ruined her father's career, and she was -dedicating her life to proving her father right and Brass-bottom wrong. -There's nothing in the cosmos to nurture friendship like a common enemy.</p> - -<p>At 30,000,000 miles from the sun, the <i>Aphrodite's</i> refrigeration -units could no longer keep the interior of the ship at a comfortable -temperature. The thermometer stood at 102°F, the very metal of -the ship's fittings hot to the touch. Uniforms were discarded, -insignia of rank vanished. The men dressed in fiberglass shorts and -spaceboots, sweat making their naked bodies gleam like copper under the -sodium-vapor lights. The women in the crew added only light blouses to -their shorts ... and suffered from extra clothing.</p> - -<p>Strike was in the observation blister forward, when Ensign Graham -called to say that she had picked up a radar contact sunward. The -IFF showed the pips to be the <i>Lachesis</i> and the <i>Atropos</i>. The two -dreadnaughts were engaged in coronary research patrol ... a purely -routine business. But the thing that made Strike curse under his breath -was Celia Graham's notation that the <i>Atropos</i> carried none other than -Space Admiral Horatio Gorman, Cominch Inplan.</p> - -<p>Strike thought it a pity that old Brass-bottom couldn't fall into -Hell's hottest pit ... and he told Ivy so.</p> - -<p>And she agreed.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Old Aphrodisiac had reached perihelion when it happened. The -thermometer stood at 135° and tempers were snapping. Cob and Celia -Graham had tangled about some minor point concerning Lover-Girl's -weight and balance. Ivy went about her work on the bridge without -speaking, and Strike made no attempt to brighten her sudden depression. -Lieutenant Evans had punched Bayne, the Tactical Astrophysicist, -in the eye for some disparaging remark about Southern California -womanhood. The ratings were grumbling about the food....</p> - -<p>And then it happened.</p> - -<p>Cob was in the radio room when Sparks pulled the flimsy from the -scrambler. It was a distress signal from the <i>Lachesis</i>. The -<i>Atropos</i> had burst a fission chamber and was falling into the sun. -Radiation made a transfer of personnel impossible, and the <i>Atropos</i> -skeeterboats didn't have the power to pull away from the looming star. -The <i>Lachesis</i> had a line on the sister dreadnaught and was valiantly -trying to pull the heavy vessel to safety, but even the thundering -power of the <i>Lachesis'</i> mighty drive wasn't enough to break Sol's -deathgrip on the battleship.</p> - -<p>A fleet of souped-up space-tugs was on its way from Luna and Venusport, -but they could not possibly arrive on time. And it was doubtful that -even the tugs had the necessary power to drag the crippled <i>Atropos</i> -away from a fiery end.</p> - -<p>Cob snatched the flimsy from Sparks' hands and galloped for the -flying-bridge. He burst in and waved the message excitedly in front of -Strykalski's face.</p> - -<p>"Have a look at this! Ye gods and little catfish! Read it!"</p> - -<p>"Well, dammit, hold it still so I can!" snapped Strike. He read the -message and passed it to Ivy Hendricks with a shake of his head.</p> - -<p>She read it through and looked up exultantly. "This is <i>it</i>! This is -the chance I've been praying for, Strike!"</p> - -<p>He returned her gaze sourly. "For Gorman to fall into the sun? I recall -I said something of the sort myself, but there are other men on those -ships. And, if I know Captain Varni on the <i>Lachesis</i>, he won't let go -that line even if he fries himself."</p> - -<p>Ivy's eyes snapped angrily. "That's not what I meant, and you know it! -I mean this!" She touched the red-sealed surge-circuit rheostat.</p> - -<p>"That's very nice, Lieutenant," commented Cob drily. "And I know that -you've been very busy adjusting that gismo. But I seem to recall that -the last time that circuit was uncorked everyone aboard became part of -the woodwork ... very messily, too."</p> - -<p>"Let me understand you, Ivy," said Strike in a flat voice. "What you -are suggesting is that I risk my ship and the lives of all of us trying -to pull old Gorman's fat out of the fire with a drive that's blown -skyhigh three times out of three. Very neat."</p> - -<p>There were tears bright in Ivy Hendricks' eyes and she sounded -desperate. "But we can save those ships! We can, I <i>know</i> we can! My -father designed this ship! I know every rivet of her! Those idiots off -Callisto didn't know what they were doing. These ships needed specially -trained men. Father told them that! And I'm trained! I can take her in -and save those ships!" Her expression turned to one of disgust. "Or are -you afraid?"</p> - -<p>"Frankly, Ivy, I haven't enough sense to be afraid. But are you so -certain that we can pull this off? If I make a mistake this time ... -it'll be the last. For all of us."</p> - -<p>"We can do it," said Ivy Hendricks simply.</p> - -<p>Strike turned to Cob. "What do you say, Cob? Shall we make it hotter in -here?"</p> - -<p>Whitley shrugged. "If you say so, Strike. It's good enough for me."</p> - -<p>Celia Graham left the bridge shaking her head. "We'll all be dead soon. -And me so young and pretty."</p> - -<p>Strike turned to the squawk-box. "Evans!"</p> - -<p>"Evans here," came the reply.</p> - -<p>"Have Sparks get a DF fix on the <i>Atropos</i> and hold it. We'll home on -their carrier wave. They're in trouble and we're going after them. Plot -the course."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Captain."</p> - -<p>Strike turned to Cob. "Have the gun-crews stand by to relieve the -black-gang in the tube rooms. It's going to get hotter than the hinges -of hell down there and we'll have to shorten shifts."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir!" Cob saluted and was gone.</p> - -<p>Strike returned to the squawk-box. "Radar!"</p> - -<p>"Graham here," replied Celia from her station.</p> - -<p>"Get a radar fix on the <i>Lachesis</i> and hold it. Send your dope up to -Evans and tell him to send us a range estimate."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Captain," the girl replied crisply.</p> - -<p>"Gun deck!"</p> - -<p>"Gun deck here, sir," came a feminine voice.</p> - -<p>"Have number two starboard torpedo tube loaded with a fish and a spool -of cable. Be ready to let fly on short notice ... any range."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir!" The girl switched off.</p> - -<p>"And now you, Miss Hendricks."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Captain?" Her voice was low.</p> - -<p>"Take over Control ... and Ivy...."</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>"Don't kill us off." He smiled down at her.</p> - -<p>She nodded silently and took her place at the control panel. Smoothly -she turned old Aphrodisiac's nose sunward....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Lashed together with a length of unbreakable beryllium steel cable, -the <i>Lachesis</i> and the <i>Atropos</i> fell helplessly toward the sun. The -frantic flame that lashed out from the <i>Lachesis'</i> tube was fading, her -fission chambers fusing under the terrific heat of splitting atoms. -Still she tried. She could not desert her sister ship, nor could she -save her. Already the two ships had fallen to within 18,000,000 miles -of the sun's terrifying atmosphere of glowing gases. The prominences -that spouted spaceward seemed like great fiery tentacles reaching for -the trapped men on board the warships. The atmospheric guiding fins, -the gun-turrets and other protuberances on both ships were beginning -to melt under the fierce radiance. Only the huge refrigeration plants -on the vessels made life within them possible. And, even so, men were -dying.</p> - -<p>Swiftly, the fat, ungainly shape of old Aphrodisiac drew near. In her -flying-bridge, Strike and Ivy Hendricks watched the stricken ships in -the darkened viewport.</p> - -<p>The temperature stood at 140° and the air was bitter with the smell -of hot metal. Ivy's blouse clung to her body, soaked through with -perspiration. Sweat ran from her hair into her eyes and she gasped -for breath in the oven hot compartment. Strike watched her with -apprehension.</p> - -<p>Carefully, Ivy circled the two warships. From the starboard tube on -the gun-deck, a homing rocket leapt toward the <i>Atropos</i>. It plunged -straight and true, spilling cable as it flew. It slammed up against -the hull, and stuck there, fast to the battleship's flank. Quickly, -a robocrane drew it within the ship and the cable was made secure. -Like cosmic replicas of the ancient South American "bolas," the three -spacecraft whirled in space ... and all three began that sunward plunge -together.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>They were diving into the sun.</i></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>The heat in the <i>Aphrodite's</i> bridge was unbearable. The thermometer -showed 145° and it seemed to Strike that Hell must be cool by -comparison.</p> - -<p>Ivy fought her reeling senses and the bucking ship as the slack came -out of the cable. Blackness was flickering at the edges of her field -of vision. She could scarcely lift her hand to the red-sealed circuit -rheostat. Shudderingly, she made the effort ... and failed. Conscious, -but too spent to move, she collapsed over the blistering hot instrument -panel.</p> - -<p>"<i>Ivy!</i>" Strike was beside her, cradling her head in his arm.</p> - -<p>"I ... I ... can't make it ... Strike. You'll ... have to run ... the -show ... after ... all."</p> - -<p>Strike laid her gently in an acceleration chair and turned toward the -control panel. His head was throbbing painfully as he broke the seal on -the surge-circuit.</p> - -<p>Slowly he turned the rheostat. Relays chattered. From deep within -old Lover-Girl's vitals came a low whine. He fed more power into the -circuit. Cadmium rods slipped into lead sheaths decks below in the -tube-rooms. The whining rose in pitch. The spinning of the ships in -space slowed. Stopped. With painful deliberation, they swung into line.</p> - -<p>More power. The whine changed to a shriek. A banshee wail.</p> - -<p>Cob's voice came through the squawk-box, soberly. "Strike, Celia's -fainted down here. We can't take much more of this heat."</p> - -<p>"We're trying, Cob!" shouted Strike over the whine of the circuit. The -gauges showed the accumulators full. "<i>Now!</i>" He spun the rheostat to -the stops, and black space burst over his brain....</p> - -<p>The last thing he remembered was a voice. It sounded like Bayne's. And -it was shouting. "We're moving 'em! We're pulling away! We're...." And -that was all.</p> - -<p>The space-tug <i>Scylla</i> found them.</p> - -<p>The three ships ... <i>Atropos</i>, <i>Lachesis</i>, and old Aphrodisiac ... -lashed together and drifting in space. Every man and woman aboard out -cold from the acceleration, and <i>Aphrodite's</i> tanks bone dry. But they -were a safe 80,000,000 miles from Sol....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The orchestra was subdued, the officer's club softly lighted. Cob -leaned his elbow on the bar and bent to inspect the blue ribbon of the -Spatial Cross on Strike's chest. Then he inspected his own and nodded -with tipsy satisfaction. He stared out at the Martian night beyond the -broad windows and back again at Strike. His frown was puzzled.</p> - -<p>"All right," said Strike, setting down his glass. "What's on your mind, -Cob? Something's eating you."</p> - -<p>Whitley nodded very slowly. He took a long pull at his highball. "I -understand that you goofballed your chances of getting the <i>Ganymede</i> -back when Gorman spoke his piece to you...."</p> - -<p>"All I said to him...."</p> - -<p>"I know. I know what you said ... and it won't bear repeating. But -you're not fooling me. You've fallen for old Lover-Girl and you don't -want to leave her. Ver-ry commendable. Loyal! Stout fellah! But what -about Ivy?"</p> - -<p>"Ivy?"</p> - -<p>Cob looked away. "I thought that you and she ... well, I thought that -when we got back ... well...."</p> - -<p>Strike shook his head. "She's gone to the Bureau of Ships with a -designing job."</p> - -<p>Cob waved an expressive arm in the air. "But dammit, man, I thought...."</p> - -<p>"The answer is <i>no</i>. Ivy's a nice girl ... but...." He paused and -sighed. "Since she was promoted to her father's old rank ... well...." -He shrugged. "Who wants a wife that ranks you?"</p> - -<p>"Never thought of that," mused Cob. For a long while he was silent; -then he pulled out an address book and leafed through until he came to -the pages marked "Canalopolis, Mars."</p> - -<p>And he was gratified to see that Lieutenant Commander David Farragut -Strykalski III was doing the same.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Jinx Ship to the Rescue, by Alfred Coppel - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JINX SHIP TO THE RESCUE *** - -***** This file should be named 63833-h.htm or 63833-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/8/3/63833/ - -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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