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diff --git a/old/66569-0.txt b/old/66569-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d63f750..0000000 --- a/old/66569-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1464 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Flight Perilous!, by Ray C. Noll - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Flight Perilous! - -Author: Ray C. Noll - -Release Date: October 19, 2021 [eBook #66569] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLIGHT PERILOUS! *** - - - - - Flight Perilous! - - By Ray C. Noll - - As Captain of the ship, Hiller knew full - responsibility was his, if he ordered Marship III - through the uncharted asteroid belt--to death!... - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy - May 1955 - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -As Fred Hiller slid back the door to his quarters in answer to their -knock, he found them lined up tensely against the bulkheads of the -companionway. - -It was the best assembly area the jammed ship could offer. Here the -commander with a short turn of his head could meet any pair of eyes -in the nine-man crew. They had met here before, in a more friendly -atmosphere, soon after acceleration stopped and once for planning. He -considered it more effective for personal communication than the ship -speaker system. - -But this assembly was different: it was their idea. They wanted a -decision. They stood without moving, waiting for him to speak. Their -discussions by this time probably had narrowed the alternatives to two. - -As commander, of course, he was paid to make decisions on Marship III. -And he began to realize by their faces which alternative the consensus -expected. Their expressions indicated that in a degree every damn one -of them was scared, scared enough to unitize their thinking. - -Phil Bleck was the one fishing for an impressive opening. He moved -forward to face the ship commander with hands pressed on his hips -defiantly. This was _the_ Phil Bleck, young man genius of United -Nuclear, pressured aboard Marship III as nuclear engineer through a -couple of Senators and the Secretary of Defense. Oh, he was good, as -long as he wasn't under fire. So good posterity required him and he -was obligated to save his skin. Hiller had expected Bleck would be the -spokesman. - -"We want to know if you decided yet, Hiller," Bleck nearly mocked. - -"_I'd_ have called this assembly if I had," Fred Hiller replied, -emphasizing a commanderish tone of voice. - -"Then you haven't." Bleck turned to the others significantly and -brought back with him a harsher gaze, which he leveled at the -commander. "Most of us here think there's only one sane way out. A -couple will go along with any decision. But most of us, including me, -want to turn back. Isn't that right?" He turned again to the men for -support. Some nodded. - -"We figured the chances if we keep on course," Bleck went on, breathing -a little heavier. "They're three to one against making it. I don't -like those odds, Hiller,"--his upper lip was curling a little--"and we -didn't agree to odds like that when we volunteered. With what we know -now, we can plan another trip and avoid this mess next time. That way, -you'd only waste time and money; going ahead, we waste that plus the -priceless knowledge of these scientists, the best the States has to -offer." - -While Bleck was blowing off, Hiller had studied each man in turn. They -hardly represented a crew, though the men had specific jobs to perform -during takeoff, transit, and setdown. They represented specialists who -would bring back for the first time authoritative reports on Mars--the -first two ships had not returned.... - -Marship III, several times the size of the first ones, but not -one-hundredth as much publicized, had been under construction since the -first Marship attempts. - -The crew technicians Hiller possessed on the trip were three. And as he -found the eyes of each, he realized they were not with Bleck. - -Art Eastburn, an all-around engineer, whose capacity continued to amaze -Hiller, and who had helped build the Marships. - -Dave Hollender, astronavigator, bucking for a space ride ever since the -moon-missile days; a cool thinker, who had the solar system duplicated -and in accurate motion inside his skull. - -Wendell Merrick, electronics engineer, who supervised the wiring of -Marship III and was sensitive to the click of every relay in the almost -fully automatic craft. - -These were with him, which fundamentally meant they were willing to -continue on course if he so decided. The others had succumbed to fear, -and they recognized no authority nor purpose: their choice was a -reactionary Earthward course. - - * * * * * - -"Dammitohell, Hiller, we want an answer!" The commander's silence had -edged Bleck better than words. "The issue can't be plainer. Let's get -this indecision over with and give the orders to circle back! Or do you -want us to end up as dead as the first two Mars attempts!" - -"Again, Bleck, I haven't decided," said Commander Hiller coolly. "I'm -going to take more photographs with the Newtonian. What comes out -of that will affect any decision I have to make. But since we're so -concerned with decisions, Bleck, have you decided what you'll do if I -should order us through?" - -The commander's unexpected and pointed directness left Bleck blinking -long enough for Eastburn to cut in before any heated rejoinder by -the young nuclear engineer. Eastburn, because of his prominence and -experience, held the respect of most of the men. - -"When I volunteered for this jaunt, I also agreed to follow the -commander's orders," Eastburn said firmly. "He may be wrong, but I -could just as well be wrong in thinking he is. We're after unity of -action, so at least something gets done in some direction." - -Hiller smiled inwardly at that choice gem of rationality because -the crew's emotional perception made of it no more than a granule -of gravel. They would have to be appealed to emotionally; under the -pressure, they understood nothing else. The stir of resentment evoked -by Eastburn's words was dying down. - -Bleck had started to say something, but Hiller's voice drowned him -easily with its overpowering bass. - -"Then, let's put it this way. Suppose I decide to hold course and -you--ah, let's say--'persuade' me to circle back. When we all testify -at the hearing, I hope you don't expect me to protect you. I'll tell -them exactly what was behind the mutiny, your yellow vertebrae, and -what would that do to your reputations?" Hiller had to shout the last -words, because Bleck was screaming interruptions. - -"It's your word against ours!" yelled Bleck into Hiller's sudden -silence. "It's your word against ours that you didn't crack and blame -it on us!" - -The commander lifted his eyebrows. What perfect projection! - -"I guess somebody in a spot like this could crack, couldn't he?" Hiller -purposely addressed the remark to Bleck's followers. Most of them were -staring uncertainly at Bleck's perspiration-soaked shirt, his white -face, the hunching shoulders, and moving wordless lips. - -"For the time being, let's leave it this way," said the commander -authoritatively. "Unless conditions improve, we're turning back. If -the odds seem later about even, we're going through. In the meantime, -we'll make these preparations just in case we can chance the clusters." - -Possibly the instructions he gave sounded casual and -spur-of-the-moment; actually, they were the careful product of his -close figuring and planning, made during the last eight hours. It was -more a recitation, yet he had to make it seem ad libbed. No one yet -knew he had resolved on what data he had at present to hold the ship's -Marsward course. - - * * * * * - -Even as he energized the lock mechanism on the door of his quarters, -Fred Hiller began to tremble, a violent physical reaction of taut -and unrested nerves. It had been capped by the crisis of the crew's -resistance, a matter hardly settled, mainly delayed. - -He fell into his bunk and let the shakes take over. Right then they -felt ghastly, but he realized he'd feel better when they stopped. As -they subsided, he tried to keep the problem out of his mind. He was too -tired for that; the pictures returned again and again in front of him -mostly beyond his control. - -He stopped fighting them, and let the pictures progress. He justified -the surrender with the thought he might learn something, might conceive -a better protective device against the myriad missiles of the Belt. - -The same picture always started it--Lord, was it only a few hours -ago?--when Dave, the ship's astronavigator, called him to the -observation bubble.... - -Dave spent his time at the compact reflector, peering into his -frequently changed eyepieces and setting up one photograph after -another. The instrument was his own design, with a revolving optical -flat tempered for space temperature that could be suspended out from -the ship and rotated, effecting nearly a 270-degree field for the -telescope. - -"Take a look," Dave said. At the time, he thought there had been a -slight edge to the astrogator's voice. - -"Don't tell me you brought me up here again to admire colors in another -variable," he had grumbled. - -"You won't admire this a bit," Dave replied. - -"Where're we looking?" he asked, slipping into the seat behind the -eyepiece assembly. - -"Space," Dave murmured. He was sighting in the finder and made azimuth -adjustments. - -When the field slid to rest Hiller viewed once more the gripping -vastness of black wantonly perforated with intensely glaring stars. It -was impossible to study the closer ones; their brightness and energy -coursed pain along his optic nerve. Rather, he let his gaze wander -over the distant sprinkling of light that marked milestones toward -infinity. - -"Notice that hazy part in the upper field," Dave was saying. - -He found it, a faint stellar gauze wisping before the stars. It -appeared to be moving. But that kind of rapid movement was out of the -question; it would have to be too close. - -"Now, I'm tripling the power," the astrogator informed him. - -With the new eyepiece in place Hiller noted that the haze had condensed -into fine dust, each particle of which contrasted dimly against space -compared to the stars over which it was super-imposed. And it _did_ -move! Part of it already was creeping into the invisible curve of the -eyepiece rim. - -He pulled back from the telescope to look at Dave's grim features. -The quickening in his stomach meant anxiety, he recognized it easily. -Anxiety over what? How could he have known then what it meant? -Subawarely, he must have. - -"What the hell is it, Dave?" - -Hollender handed him photographs out of a transparent file cabinet. -"Here're some blowups under high power. Visible proof from these, but -nothing highly accurate from the spectography." - -"But this is asteroid stuff," Hiller nodded at the photographs. "They -look like pinhead star clusters." - -"That's what they are, clusters," Dave replied seriously. "Fragments of -planetoids, evidently, revolving around common centers of gravity." - -"What're they doing around here? I mean, are they strays from the -Asteroid Belt or something?" - - * * * * * - -Dave swept the back of his hand over a row of astronomical texts. "If -you can find any mention of 'em in there, I wish you'd let me know. And -they're a long way from the Asteroids." - -"Well, you're the damn astronomer in this blowout," frowned Hiller -impatiently. "What's a good guess on 'em?" - -"I don't know how good it is, but my guess is we're running into an -inner Asteroid Belt. I'll bet the first two flights ended here...." - -"A _what_?" - -"Inner Asteroid Belt," Dave stated. "A puny one, compared to the one -outside Mars, but nonetheless a Belt. Uncharted, and deadly." - -Tension spread along Hiller's back. "We've had no advance data on crap -like that, not one bit." - -"We have now," Dave shrugged. - -"Why didn't one of the first trips miss this?" - -"This Inner Belt orbits, too. Clustered minor particles with low -reflectivity may be a phenomenon found only in scattered sections -of the Belt. The first Marships happened to hit them, just like us. -Certainly no light instrument on Earth I know of could pick them up. -They'd move out too fast to register on a plate. So, they're our -babies." - -The commander remarked soberly, "You evidently already know what this -means." - -"It's a lousy break.... The first ships must have tried to get -through...." - -Hiller brought his palms together to bolster the searching of his -mind. He was surprised to find them moist. "What about the size of the -particles in these clusters?" - -"From what I've calculated, they're fruitstand variety, for the most -part." - -"Watermelons?" grunted Hiller, pessimistically. - -"A few, maybe. But they're not cranberries, either." - -"Density?" - -"Roughly eight or nine. I can get that figure closer later on." - -Hiller became irritated at himself for letting what started to be short -silence grow longer. The astronomer may have followed his thoughts; he -handed him a long photograph. - -"Here's one I made at 150 diameters of the general area of the Inner -Belt we're due to pass through on our present course." - -Hiller winced at the sight: the fuzzy glow thinned in the foreground -and thickening, paraded through the middle distance, still stretching -on until it faded from the lens' capability. - -"We'll have to revise some of our theories about the formation of the -Outer Belt," Dave was saying. "It's apparently much deeper and wider -than anyone's guessed. Looks to me like a dead star went through our -system, breaking up a planet and maybe peeling a little off itself. -That would account perhaps for the retrograde orbit--" - -"Dave, I don't give a good goddam about any dead star!" Hiller exploded -his tension. "How far apart are these space fruit?" - -"A mile here, a couple of miles there. I really haven't figured that -aspect yet." - -"Well, figure it." The commander jumped down from the observation seat. -"Get George, the psychologist, he types fast. Compile what data you -have, have him type it, send it down to me. I'll be in my quarters. And -hurry, man, or they'll be more than stars dead around here." - -He slammed open the entrance panel to the observatory. By that time he -had cooled enough to pause and throw Dave a half-smile and limp salute. - -"Thanks for the wide-awake work. Now, get busy." - - * * * * * - -His watch showed he had been drowsing for more than an hour. The -pictures had exhausted themselves, and his head felt clearer. He had -needed that rest badly. - -Sitting up, he reached into the bunk cupboard and poured a drink. -Now that Bleck was temporarily emotionally neutralized and the -brains uncertain, it was time to follow up with a little rationality -to substantiate his position. Anyway, he wanted verification and -cross-checking of his plans. He _could_ be way off base. - -Over the ship's speaker system he summoned Merrick, Eastburn, and -Hollender to his quarters. They arrived promptly, almost too promptly, -as if they had been waiting. It was probably obvious to them, as it was -to him, the problem called for more than one man's calculation. - -Nothing was said while he splashed out drinks. The men spread over -the floor where they could find room and left him the bunk. They were -evidently going to let him say something first, so he didn't disappoint -them. - -"I don't think I'm surprising any of you when I say we're pushing -through the clusters, regardless of Bleck's nerves," he began. "What's -probably on your mind is my motive. You may understandably feel Bleck, -no matter how badly he expressed his point of view, may have something. -Sure, maybe my pride is driving me ahead. Maybe I'm being as emotional -in wanting to buck the clusters as Bleck is in wanting to run. - -"I'll let you judge that for yourselves after you hear what's back -of those orders for preparation I gave. First I want to hear from -Hollender. What's the latest and most accurate you can give me now -on density of the particles, particle proximity, and our relative -velocities?" - -The astronavigator unfolded a paper taken from his shirt pocket. "Well, -I have three results on density because of observation problems. I'll -give you the average. Mean density comes out to 7.8, lower than I first -figured. Roughly on proximity, 1800 yards, and that's more bunched than -I estimated. They're clustered, and that's about it," he shrugged. - -"Now, on relative velocities," he continued, "I could get it pretty -close, knowing ours is a constant power-off glide. We exceed -the clusters' orbital velocity by three m.p.s. But our angle of -intersection with the Belt will reduce any actual impact to about two -m.p.s. In other words, particles would be overtaking us at about that -speed." - -Hiller nodded. "That's about the way I worked it out. One more thing, -Dave: the depth of the cluster band." - -"The part we have to worry about's only a little over a -hundred-thousand miles in depth. The rest is scattered asteroid strays -and shouldn't bother us. We'll be three hours maybe in transit through -the stuff." - - * * * * * - -The men in the cramped commander's quarters stirred slightly, -wincing at the transit time. The other figures could not be readily -personalized; but each of them could visualize himself sweating out -three hours of stellar bombardment, the effects of which would not be -known accurately until the Belt was entered. And each could visualize -ultimately Marship III as a whirling, shredded mass, spouting synthetic -atmosphere, and glowing redly from rampant and uncontrolled fusion. - -"On the fuel?" the commander asked of Eastburn. "Anything new on that?" - -"Deceleration definitely out," the engineer replied firmly. "We -couldn't afford the drain needed later to catch Mars on her way around. -From what I gather of the problem, acceleration wouldn't do anyway, but -that's even more impossible. It would increase setdown consumption." - -"Hollender and I've calculated the fuel drain required to -circumnavigate the clusters. It came close, close enough to make you -want to cry. But not close enough. The wall of the clusters happens -to be too spread out and in near-perfect line with our point of -rendezvous with Mars. If we'd spotted them sooner, we could have -hurdled 'em with a few spurts of the guide jets. By the time we got it -figured, we'd already passed the critical point by 23 minutes. That's -how close it was. - -"The fuel was figured for this trip with very little margin, and we -used some margin already because of that lovely instrument error on -takeoff. I'd be a lot happier if we had a fusion system with fewer -limitations, like the ones they're working on now." - -"We agreed to this firing system and realized its risks--all because -we'd rather not wait for the ones in development," Hiller reminded. -"We're comfortably powered, anyway, provided we follow our original -firing schedule. So, that means we enter the Inner Belt at our present -velocity without changing course." - -Merrick spoke up, ruffling the red hairs that partially covered his -shiny scalp. "Back track here a minute, you boys went over that rapid. -I think I get everything but the velocity business. We connect with the -Belt at two m.p.s.? Sounds like optimistic but bad arithmetic to me." -Screwing up his mouth, he squinted at Hollender. - -Hiller found himself laughing, and it felt good. "Pardon our -dynamics-centered minds," he said. He unsnapped his ballpoint from his -pocket and placed it over the air blower grill. - -"Say the horizontal braces on this grill running parallel are the -clusters' paths at 12 m.p.s. My ballpoint's the ship at 15, traveling -in the same direction as the clusters. In that case, _we_ would collide -with the particles, overtaking them at three m.p.s. right?" - -Merrick nodded. "I see that, but--" - -"Okay," Hiller went on. "Now suppose we crossed the Belt at right -angles to the paths." He moved the ballpoint straight up the grill. - -"They'd sock us at 12 m.p.s.," Merrick deduced. "So, what you're -getting at is the angle--" - -"The angle makes the difference," finished Hiller. "If we entered -the belt at about this angle"--he inclined the ballpoint up slightly -from the horizontal--"we'd sail through with the same velocity as -the particles. If we hit any, it would be a nudge from our transit -motion through the Belt or from their velocity or revolution, which is -probably very low." - -"I get it," Merrick slapped his forehead. "Our present course cuts the -Belt at such an angle that we get bumped at two m.p.s. instead of 12." -The others nodded. He reflected a moment, adding, "So, I get a bullet -through the head at 1200 feet per second or 200 feet per second: I -still get it in the end." - -"Not in this case," Hiller smiled. "There's been quite a little work -done on effects of meteor impact by the Air Force. I've got a summary -of it in the control room. Art, here, could probably tell you more -about it than I could." - - * * * * * - -Eastburn hugged his knees. "Not much, I don't think," he arched an -eyebrow. "Fred's being modest, the guy who designed the meteor-scanning -device used on all Marships. I'll take the ball, though, on this one. - -"Del, we've got a brute of a hull on this ship, twice as resistant as -the ones on I and II. Second, it's smooth and curved. Third, it's going -awfully fast. The studies the Air Force has been able to make so far -show that small-sized meteors either glance off a ship and disintegrate -swiftly from the excessive rotation set up from the collision, or they -explode on contact from built-up kinetic energy. - -"There seems to be three types of contact explosion. Where the angle -of impact is not quite perpendicular, the particle creases the hull -and explodes along its trajectory. This is the usual situation in the -heat-generation collision and rarely harms the ship. - -"Perpendicular impact, however, does the damage. At low velocities and -densities perpendicular impact craters the hull and most of the blast -effect is dispersed laterally and to the rear. At higher velocities -the particle vaporizes but the explosive force craters the hull and -shapes inward, a lot like the effect of an air gun pellet on plate -glass. Although the hull penetration may be mere pea size, blast and -compression inside can be terrific, besides the sharp shock throughout -the whole ship." - -Hiller grinned. "Thanks for bringing out the situation so well, Art. -Hollender's the mathematician here, and I don't go in for formulating -odds. But I'll give odds right now on our getting through with one -perpendicular strike. Any takers?" - -"That's a hell of a bet," Merrick griped. "If you lose, who's around to -collect?" - -"I'm talking odds," the commander said. "Anyway, you over-estimate the -effect of a perpendicular strike. In a closed compartment it could be -rough. By leaving every compartment hatch open, the compression would -dissipate throughout the ship with less damage." - -Art Eastburn frowned. "How about the air supply, Fred? With no -compartmentations, one big enough hole and most of the ship's air -supply could escape before we could patch up." - -"Good point," Hiller replied, "but if the hole were as large as you -may be imagining, the blast pressure would probably blow out ports and -open seams, leaving us in hopeless shape. The smaller holes, on the -other hand, could be patched, the kind we expect. I have reason to -believe that won't be a problem. A hunch, maybe." - -"I guess we can let you get by with one hunch," Eastburn smiled wryly. -"But I can see what you're getting at on the odds you mentioned. -Considering Hollender's estimates on the spacing of this fruit-sized -stuff, I might not take your bet." - -"Another factor," the commander noted, finishing his drink. "You don't -go through a barbed-wire fence standing up." - -"Granted," agreed Merrick. "Are you giving again with that ballpoint?" - -"Last time," promised Hiller. He held the pen over the grill, pointing -it at the approximate angle the ship was to take through the Inner -Belt. "That's the way we're heading now. We've set the gyros to keep -our nose in front, for the time being, to satisfy tradition and -maintain a consistent sighting base. - -"Our main problem is avoiding perpendicular strikes and encouraging -oblique ones. The position of the ship in relation to the particle -direction becomes important, then." He moved his ballpoint at nearly -a 45-degree angle to the grill lines. "We won't head in the course -indicated by the nose, but we'll gyro the ship to this position. That -way we obtain the maximum deflection." - -The men were silent momentarily. Merrick suddenly sat up straight. - -"It seems to me pointing the nose right at the asteroid flow would be -better." - -"You forget our transit velocity, Del," the commander observed. "We'd -be chancing running into as many particles perpendicularly with the -ship lengthwise at two m.p.s. as we would miss by pointing our nose at -those catching up with us at about the same speed." - -Merrick threw up his hands. "Okay, okay," he surrendered. "All I hope -is you math boys have it figured right." - -"We're running it through the calculator to round off the rough edges," -Hollender assured him. - -The silence grew until the commander stood up and asked. "So, on the -basis of what we've covered, am I too much of a gambler in going ahead?" - -The others had risen and Eastburn was the first to offer his hand, -the others following. They spoke at the same time their assurance -and backing. But Hiller's thoughts were already dwelling on the most -bothersome variable of all--Phil Bleck. - -When he discovered from Hollender before he left that Bleck had no idea -when the ship would enter the Inner Belt, the variable began to assume -minor proportions. - - * * * * * - -"Test drill 30 minutes! Test drill 30 minutes!" - -The commander adjusted the mike closer to his chest and turned up the -volume on the portable transmission unit for the ship speaker system. -Under the coming circumstances he would need as much freedom as -possible. - -The panel before him gradually lighted up as the stations checked in. -They were in no hurry since he had informed them in the last meeting -that the Inner Belt was still six hours away. That had provided Bleck -with enough time to map what counteraction he had in mind to oppose a -decision for continuing Marsward. - -The commander noticed with satisfaction the colored lights wink on -over the board, each with its own vital significance. The row to the -left on the panel, half alight, indicated locked-open compartment -doors. Near the bottom a circular array showed Eastburn was prepared to -activate the gyros from the mechanical control center of the ship. The -green bulb newly burning indicated Merrick had completed his check of -the electronics at the control center in the next compartment to the -commander's and was standing by. - -The blue glow at the top of the board was Hollender at his observation -post. The fire control posts--two, stationed near the ship's -center--blinked in almost together. Wayne Somerset, chemical engineer, -headed the patch crew made up of the zoologist and archeologist, the -team which was the last to signal readiness. - -It lacked 12 minutes until drill time. - -Hiller switched on the monitors for the nuclear chambers which he -lighted up by activating remote spotlights. He had some trouble -adjusting the scanning in one of the monitors for the fuel -compartments, but it came in clear by 10 minutes until drill. - -"Test drill 10 minutes!" he announced. "I want an oral report on these -items from your stations: suits, rations, extra oxygen portables, first -aid and anti-ray kits." - -The reports came in affirmative, and Hiller relaxed slightly. The -phrase "shipshape" kept coming into his mind but he rejected it as -histrionic. But maybe that was the word for the whole situation, with -his being guilty of plenty of hamming. Come to think of it, it was more -like TV fantascience than anything else. - -"Bleck," he broadcast, "leave George at the fire station and report -for special orders." - -He suspected Bleck was sulking through the preparations and would do -George little good. The best place for Bleck was with him, suspecting -what he did about the man's reactions. - -"Test drill five minutes," he was announcing as a sullen Bleck arrived -at master control. - -"Art, better adjust the pumps to lower air pressure. Somerset, plug in -the patch kits for molten. Fire crews, uncap and pressurize your mist -tanks." - -Hiller swung in his chair to face Bleck. "Sit down," he said. He caught -the puzzlement on the man's face over the realistic degree of the last -orders he gave. - -"Adjust the magnetizing on your boots to high, unless you have to -travel," he continued. "Unbind emergency deceleration straps and stand -by." - -Bleck's color faded with the commander's last words. "Why the hell all -the realism, Hiller? Your rank puffing you up?" - -Keeping his eyes on Bleck, the commander went on, "One minute to test -drill. Only this isn't a test drill. Repeat, this is _not_ a test -drill. It's the real thing. We are now into the Belt. Repeat, this is -the real thing." - -Bleck clawed over the bulkheads of master control's cubicle searching -tactilely for the deceleration straps, his eyes riveted blankly on -Hiller. - -"I take complete responsibility for this deception," Hiller spoke to -the crew, "and I can justify it. Yes, Hollender, Eastburn, and Merrick -were in on it. They also agree with me that our chances of getting -through are good as long as everyone does his job. You should be glad I -saved you worrying. - -"We're inside the Belt now and the way to get out alive is to stay -alert and follow the drill plan. I'll keep you informed from master -control how we're doing without pulling punches. Let's have nothing on -the intercom unless it's strictly business." - - * * * * * - -Bleck had found the straps, but he had not fastened any. Instead he -crouched, burrowing his head into one of the pads. He was curling up in -a knot and sobbing. - -"I figured you'd break," Hiller mumbled more to himself than to the -quasi-comatic nuclear engineer. Breaking, this was the best place for -him. He wouldn't exactly boost the others' morale were he around them. -Nor with Hiller's dirty pool, could Bleck get the chance now to lower -morale enough to push over a mutiny. - -"Art, let's gyro her to the transit angle," he broadcast. "I'll -cross-check on my indicator up here." - -A faint vibration seeped through his feet as the electric motors -revved. Watching the unmoving star-scape through the front ports, he -waited for the slow shifting of the field. The effect was as if the -heavens had begun an expansive revolution about the ship, the stars -drifting lazily from their familiar positions in the ports. - -The commander watched the positional needle creep away from the -arbitrary course zero. It swept beyond 10 and slowed at 15, halting a -little beyond 16. - -"I show 16.2," Hiller communicated. - -"Check," Art answered on the intercom. - -There it was, physically as much as any commander could do under the -circumstances. The rest was largely luck--and, of course, how fast he -acted to offset any bad luck. - -Hiller took the time to explain to the crew the tactics planned in -traversing the Belt. - -"You guys are gamblers or you wouldn't have volunteered for this -commute," he concluded. "The only difference with the hand you're -holding now is that somebody else had to figure the odds for you. -They're not bad odds either. If you grouse and jump for the straps -every time a plum taps the hull, they're 50-50. Keep your heads and -follow my instructions and the odds go in our favor. - -"We're going to be hit, we're going to be hit again, and maybe a -couple of dozen times after that. If a big one slams straight into us, -somebody might get a bloody nose. But we can get through even if the -ship turns out to look like a thick piece of Swiss cheese. - -"Right now we're sailing in between thinned-out stuff, Hollender tells -me. The first hour will be a tea party compared to the second. - -"The air pump room sits smack in ship center. Anyone who'd like to zip -his suit and shut himself in with the pumps has my permission. Speak up -now; I can't force co-operation in something like this." - -The intercom stayed silent. - -"Thanks," the commander said. "One more thing. Fish a couple of hunks -of cotton out of your first aid. After you hear the first hit, you'll -know where to put 'em." - - * * * * * - -Hiller watched the changed stellar configurations through the ports. -The stars shone in a friendly brightness compared to the darkness -around them. That darkness held invisible missiles which possessed only -velocity and direction, harmless vectors. Only when they met the hull -would there be a molecular and not only calculative indication of their -presence. - -The ship rode silently, weighted with the heaviness of a grim -expectancy. - -Hiller curiously switched on his meteor-scanner, making sure to keep -the circuits connecting to the guiding jets and gyros cold. Even if -they could afford the fuel, the gadget would tear itself apart with the -plethora of loose particles to monitor. - -The greenly glowing two radar scopes' limited field was clear for the -first few moments. Then three fine lines sped down the center, and -before they faded two others plummeted beside their fading tracks. - -Watching the scope fascinated him. The lines traced, glowed, and -faded, always cutting the same angle, so far staying fairly clear of -the center. He caught himself tensing when one began at top center and -coursed swiftly toward the ship. A trail actually disappeared under the -center marker but came out the other side too swiftly for him to wince -under the anticipated shock. - -Were they increasing in frequency? Definitely they were. A shower of -lines bracketing the scope center substantiated him. - -He realized why more tracks appeared near the center than at the edge -of the scope. Most particles evidently were small enough so that at the -outer limits of the radar's range the trails made no register. Also, -the tracks glowed brighter near the center and faded toward the edge. - -Too, he became aware the trails were hardly straight. The ship's -transit velocity through the Belt bent the trails toward an arc on the -scope face. - -He saw the track start at the top: but before realization came -that it had gone no farther than the center, his head jarred in an -instantaneous headache. The quick jolt through his feet and buttocks -arrived at the same time, and his sight washed away into a watery blur. - -Naturally, after admonishing the crew to use ear plugs, he had -neglected to use his. While his eardrums still throbbed with the sharp -compression, he fought for clear vision. - -The hull mockup illuminated, he searched for the point of impact on -the electronic three-dimensional damage guide. No wonder all the rough -stuff; it turned out to be a good-sized crater above the control -compartment. Perhaps it hadn't been as bad elsewhere. There was no -penetration, but after that wallop he wasn't looking forward to any. - -"Check in!" he announced. - -Dutifully the crew responded, their voices sounding heavy with affected -steadiness. - -"That landed on the front above control. The party's livening up, so -stand by." - -Hiller noticed with concern the starfield drifting by the ports. The -positional dial showed 17.6 but falling. - -"What's with the gyros, Art?" he asked. - -"Impact shifted the ship position," he answered. "I'm resetting." - -The commander bit his lip, suppressing the pun crossing his mind that -this was a new angle. He hadn't figured that much kinetic energy -affecting the ship position. As long as the impact came near center, -fine; but with a strike near the extremities of the ship, naturally the -effect was to spin it, like a top without a molecule of friction. - -Oversight Number One. Hell, why count 'em? This one in itself could be -fatal. The gyros were never meant to counteract that kind of gyration. -Maybe a couple of impacts, yes. After that, they could burn out. - - * * * * * - -Somebody opened the door of a boiler factory and shut it in a -millisecond. The reverberation surprisingly proved slight. - -The commander peered closely at the damage guide. A short dark line -near the stern: it had taken him a second inspection to find it. He had -been looking for a crater. - -"Crease over the firing chambers," he reported, then shifted his -attention to the indicator. The needle faltered at 18 as the gyros -kicked in harder and fell toward 16 again. - -"What's the condition of the gyro motors, Art?" Hiller asked. - -"Warming up," was the answer, "They're going to have to run full to do -any good at all." - -"How about using the jets once in a while," Hiller suggested. "Too hard -on the fuel?" - -"Once in a while, it wouldn't be," the engineer replied. "Constantly -steadying a spinning ship this big with the guide jets would take more -fuel than we could spare." - -Hiller swiftly considered the few possibilities there were. Burning out -the gyros was a risk he could not take. Going over the fuel margin was -out of the question. And the alternative to these--spinning until they -left the Belt. - -Spinning provided the only choice. It wasn't necessarily fatal, but it -increased the chances for perpendicular strikes. Actually, with such -conditions, Bleck's sneering odds held more merit. - -_Bleck!_ - -The shadow behind him, only a vague outline on the control panel, -moved. Hiller fell sideways from the seat, twisting around one of the -arms. - -Bleck's magnetized boot slammed into the seat and left him -overbalancing long enough for Hiller to scramble to his feet. - -The man appeared berserk with fear, except he had it channeled toward -the destruction of what he assigned as its cause--the ship commander. - -No need to search; nothing serving as a weapon lay within reach. Taking -the time to stoop and remove his boot meant suicide. - -Warily Bleck advanced with the retrieved boot upraised, clumsily -limping on the other. Hiller backed until he felt the acceleration -straps behind him on the bulkhead. There was no more backing after that. - -The last resort--something he did not relish doing--was broadcasting -the crew his plight, pulling them from their stations. Anyway, by the -time someone arrived--if that didn't faze the man, he would have to try -ducking under the weapon and fighting it out. - -As Bleck paused to savor his ascendant position and measure the -clobbering distance, Hiller started the first word of the announcement. -His thinking was riding the crest of a wave of fear which threatened at -any moment to break. And the first word was all he managed. - -What saved him was his grasp of the straps behind him. On low for -movement, his boots would not have held. - -His grip had tightened instinctively the moment the ship lurched to the -port side, a lurch so sharp he swung out from the bulkhead. His head -and chest felt as if they would cave in under the compression. - -Wearing only one boot, the other demagnetized, Bleck probably was only -beginning to analyze how he was dying when he sailed the length of the -control room. His free boot dented the bulkhead and rang against the -floor. The boot attached to his foot was hidden under the mixture of -sodden clothes and shattered limbs that clung wetly to the bulkhead and -began oozing toward the outside of the centrifuge. - -For the ship was now gyrating tightly, the stars parading endlessly -past the ports. Coming out of shock, strangely, was what bothered -Hiller most, the merry-go-rounding. - -His hands hurt, he noticed, so he released the needless grip on the -straps. Dazedly he navigated to the control seat, sat down, and this -time fastened his nylon safety bands and set his boots for high. - - * * * * * - -The concussion effects wouldn't blink out of his eyes and he stared -blearily at the damage indicator. He also found it difficult keeping -his eyes from Bleck's remains. - -"Fred? Fred!" It was Art's voice. Of course, he hadn't announced damage -yet. How long had it been? - -"Report!" That's all the commander could get out. - -The crew responded weakly. The roll gave him time to locate the damage -as a definite penetration in the fuel chambers, evidently by a large -particle. The TV monitors showed no tanks dented, and the fine gauges -indicated no leaks. One thing, though: the temperature of the tanks had -skyrocketed. - -He announced the damage and ordered suits on. It felt good to be -thinking again. A penetration in the air-filled portion of the ship and -the temperature could bake uninsulated flesh promptly. Oversight Number -Two. - -Art reminded him over the intercom diplomatically, "I'm not -counteracting the spin, Fred." - -"That's all we can do," the commander returned. "We're going to have to -spin through and like it." - -"We'll be in the thickest in a couple of minutes." It was Hollender's -voice. "I think the patch crew ought to get some business." - -"Belt in unless you're traveling," Hiller reminded. Only then did he -bring himself to relate to the crew how Bleck died, hoping it would be -of constructive value, provided they didn't frighten. - -With the next oblique collisions Hiller found the suit better muffled -the sound. He wished there was something to be done about the wrenching -of his insides at each impact. - -The suits helped little on the more direct collisions. Added to that, -the ship was gyrating faster and pseudo-gravity pulled at him from the -front ports. Giddiness on top of everything else was not improving -matters. - -He crumpled under the wave of heat and compression when the first -particle penetrated the air compartments of the ship. Three of his -instrument dials cracked and he felt as if he had received a blow on -each square inch of his body. The penetration he located as in the -sleeping quarters and sent the patch crew there at once. - -About that time the second one penetrated. The jolt was sickening. -Somerset reported both members of his crew unconscious when their boots -let them slide against bulkheads at the impact. Worse, he said the -patch equipment had spun loose and shorted, bent, and fused. He made -clear any patch repair as being hopeless. - -While Hiller listened to the report, he was sick inside his suit from -the centrifugal effect. He recalled how he'd also been sick on the -Whirlwind ride at the amusement park when he was a kid. A hell of a -space commander. They could use a good collision against the direction -of gyration any time, provided the sudden deceleration of the twirl -didn't hemorrhage them internally. - -Why was he worried about gyrations when the patch kit was a casualty? -That latest development cinched it: the odds on getting through were -falling every minute. He wasn't facing it, either. - -One favorable element, however, was appearing: the particles size -remained uniformly small. No structural damage of any consequence had -occurred from the collisions already experienced. The hull, at least, -could sustain the heat and explosion effects. - - * * * * * - -Subawarely the commander realized his thinking was punchy. The impacts -of missiles against the heating ship's hull constituted a slowly -fading pattern of noise and pressure and pain which he was observing -objectively, almost amusedly. When he attempted to read the damage -indicator or communicate with the crew, the effort became immense and -the discomfort great. So much easier to remain contemplative about it. - -No doubt this was the condition of the crew. After so much beating, the -organic function can tolerate no more. Oversight Number Three. - -The commander was aware sufficiently to hope Art Eastburn kept the air -cooler circulating. He had already assumed, since the crew was suited -in, that the engineer had cut off the fresh air supply. They didn't -have to lose it all, just most of it, enough to suffocate somewhere in -space. - -That hunch? Seemed a hunch fitted in there somewhere. Was it really -important? Nothing seemed important except escaping the punishment -the particles of the Inner Asteroid Belt were inflicting on the -near-senseless bodies in the spinning ship. - -His thought processes alternately raced and then froze in a -semi-conscious sleep. Between impacts rationality awoke in brief -segments of contemplative continuity and slowed when another concussion -shuddered the ship. And soon there was no rationality but fantasies -rooted in present trauma.... - -Starlight seeped through the punctured hull around the control chamber. -The air supply had long since whistled into space. What ship atmosphere -that was salvaged had been piped into the suits and rationed among the -men. - -They had circumnavigated the Inner Belt after plotting a course back to -Earth. Hollender's computations presented them with a rough chance of -making it before the air would no longer maintain their life processes. - -But it had not worked out. The Earth was yet a bright star in the front -ports when the coughing began, when the function of respiration became -painful labor. - -Some were already choosing the quick way out. Hollender had entered the -control room, waved a hand in salute, and unzipped his suit, even as -Hiller watched. The instant freezing from the space-filled ship bloated -the body slightly, but otherwise there was little difference. Hollender -stood statuesquely, coldly rigid, clamped solidly by his boots. - -Art Eastburn arrived next, unsmiling. The two men regarded each other, -chests heaving, for an endless moment. The mechanical engineer reached -for his suit zipper. - -"Art, hold on! Not yet, Art, not yet!" - -"Not what, Fred? Come out of it, man!" - -Eastburn was standing over him, speaking against the plastiglas of -Hiller's visor. He sat before the control board, still cinched in his -seat. The mechanical engineer wore no suit and he was smiling. - -"We're through," his friend was saying. "We made it, Fred." - - * * * * * - -The ship commander shook his head. The words were supposed to mean -something vital. He played them back in his mind. - -"We're through. We're through." - -If he could understand why the silence hurt his ears, why he was tense, -why--Realization spread over his body in a wave of exhilarating relief. - -Speech failed him after Art helped him remove his suit. Speech was -unnecessary the way Art rapidly filled him in on the lack of casualties -and minor damage. - -"How long was I out?" the commander at last brought himself to ask, -noticing Bleck's body had been removed. - -"Over an hour," Art answered. "When the rocks stopped punching -I couldn't raise you on the intercom. Found you passed out. You -wouldn't revive so I took advantage of my second-in-command rank and -straightened out the ship's spin with the guide jets." - -Hiller glanced at the ports. The stars rode steadily, and he was aware -his viscera felt stable. - -"But dammit, Art, all this air!" Hiller complained, waving his hand -over his head. "Aren't you over-generous? We must have lost enough -through the hull to put us in suits, or at least turn us back." - -The engineer grinned teasingly. "I don't think we've lost a cubic inch, -Fred." - -"The patch kit?" - -"Still out." - -"But all those penetrations with us in a twirl--" - -"All taken care of." Art was enjoying himself. - -Hiller's hunch, never considered seriously, jumped back into his mind. -That had to be the only explanation. - -Art was going on, "As a matter of fact, there's a good example right -there." He pointed above them to the bulkhead, layered with plastic, -a coolant area, and duralite, that separated the men from space. "One -of the toughest hits the ship took, blasted an inch-round hole, looks -like. No wonder you conked out." - -The after effects of the experience again was making it difficult for -the commander to focus his eyes. He unbound his seat bands and clanked -directly under the spot, his friend following. - -From the closer viewpoint he could see a small, glistening white circle -in the bulkhead surrounded by a ring of heat-discolored metal. That was -no patch. - -He grinned back at Art. "Automatic, eh?" - -"I never considered the possibility," Art replied. "I figured the -inside pressure would be too great." - -"I'm not trying to sound off big," the commander said, "but I had it -in the back of my mind when I decided to sail through. As it turned -out, it meant the difference between survival or otherwise. Had I known -that, I might not have gambled." - -Fred Hiller returned to his seat and pushed himself down. His strength -was only beginning to return. - -"With a bigger hole, it wouldn't have worked. But I was counting on -little holes with our strong hull. It would take more pressure than -what's inside the ship to stop the instant freeze of space cold in -small openings like that. - -"I think our frozen air plugs will hold way longer than it takes to -repair the patch kit. Matter of fact, I may leave them in until we hit -Mars' atmosphere. I'm feeling sentimental about them already!" - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLIGHT PERILOUS! *** - -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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