The Other Side of Nowhere
- Автор: Лейнстер Мюррей
- Год: 1964
- Язык: английский
- Год: Berkley Medallion
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «The Other Side of Nowhere». Краткое содержание книги:
For centuries space travelers had dreaded a place they called the Other Side of Nowhere — a place in the universe where up was down, where right was wrong, and where all direction was lost...
To save the RIM STAR Braden had to bring the ship to the place of nightmare, the Other Side of Nowhere...
"Go get your blaster back, Mr. Braden, if you can do it without disturbing the steward. But I specifically order you to leave him alone!"
He turned back to the coder, pecking out the tape orders that would send the Rim Star more than a hundred light-years to the near neighborhood of Handel's Planet with not less than two breakouts from overdrive on the way. He copied the symbols, using one finger, squinting wisely at the typed sheet from the spaceport course-room.
"The ship's operating perfectly, sir," said Braden. "I'd like to speak with all the crewmen at once. When can I call them from duty-posts?"
The skipper turned. Then he swung about in his chair. He considered, chuckling again.
"I give you ten minutes now, Mr. Braden," he rumbled. "Ten full minutes. I will stay valiantly on debris-watch while you impress our sturdy crewmen with the idea that you are not to be trifled with!"
He watched with a sort of genial malice while Braden pushed the general communication button and said:
"All hands attention. All forecastle hands to the forecastle at once. Repeat: All forecastle hands to the forecastle at once." Then he said, "I'll see what can be done, sir!"
He went out, bitterly angry. The situation was much more serious than one blaster pilfered, though that was serious enough. There was trouble ahead. He must try to bring it to a head before the troublemakers expected, and in a way they would not anticipate.
He headed for the crew's quarters. On a ship as large as the Rim Star, the difference between the design of a spaceship and a seagoing vessel is enormously accentuated. A ship designed to travel on an ocean ignores the weight of her fabric, but everything is cramped to make it possible for the smallest object to be pushed through a resisting sea. A spaceship subordinates physical size to mass. If landing-grids worked efficiently on spheres, spaceships would all be simple globes because the largest possible object with a given mass is a sphere. There is no need to economize on size in a spacecraft; hence interstellar ships are roomy beyond the imagination of a groundling. One consequence is that a man can be very lonely on a fully manned freighter. He is a very small pea in a very large pod.
Braden was alone, a long curved corridor stretching out before him. His footsteps were completely silent. There was absolute stillness all around him. He regarded the situation with aversion. He was the mate of the Rim Star. The skipper's behavior was anomalous. Instead of the suspicion with which a normal ship captain views every deviation from the normal, he had thrown discipline out the air lock even before lift-off. He'd allowed the ship's steward to perform the duties a mate is most jealous of. He was amused that his crew had tried to prevent Braden from joining the ship. He'd been indifferent when a previous mate was sent to hospital - very probably by his crew - and was followed - almost certainly the work of the same individuals - by the man who should have been sixth of the unrated members of the ship's company. The skipper was amused that a blaster was loose on the ship. He'd ordered Braden not to interfere with the steward when it was absolutely certain that the steward had eavesdropped on him. He...
Braden broke stride when a thought came to his mind. After an instant, though, he went on. No. It couldn't be that the skipper believed that the control-room was fitted up with a listening device, and had spoken as he did because he believed he was overheard! That would be unthinkable! No skipper could possibly allow such a thing! No skipper...
Braden went to the group of roomy, separate cabins required by law and common sense alike. Considering the monotony and the long, long journeys involved, men simply couldn't stand enforced continuous close contact with their fellows.
He turned in to the crew's quarters.
All five of the signed-on hands were there, waiting for him. They looked at him with blank expressions, but there was a feeling of laughter in the air. The very expressionlessness of the five men mocked him. They'd come aboard and dumped their ship-bags as he'd done. They'd been on duty ever since. They were no more settled than he was, except that unquestionably they had a common purpose and a very clear idea of how they were going to accomplish it.
"I called you men here," said Braden without preliminary, "because I don't like a lot of things about the way this ship has been set up for a long and dangerous voyage."
He didn't mention his missing blaster. They expected him to demand it forcibly, so he ignored it.
"The five of you tried to jump me last night," he said acidly. "And I was a little bit too gentle with you so you were still able to jump another man - the man you thought I was - a half- hour later. I think you've got ideas. I don't like those ideas. I think you've been cherishing them too long. I want to change them."
He looked from one to another. Although one man's features were scarred and battered, he showed no signs of recent conflict. A hard-faced man had a new cut on his chin, and another man had a purple bruise on his cheekbone. A chubby man had an expression of insistent innocence and there was a lean man whose eyes were sharp.
Braden rated them in his mind. Men who are isolated for long periods form themselves into groups according to certain patterns. There is an automatic assigmnent of roles. One man is always the leader. Another one is the docile butt of jokes. Still another does what the others tell him. Then there are second leaders and third leaders, and so on. The man with the battered features had gotten that way because he was told to do the fist-fighting for the rest. The chubby man was the squirming, flattered victim of their jests.
Braden pointed at the lean man with the sharp eyes. "Empty your ship-bag," he ordered curtly. The man stared at him, astounded.
"Empty it!" repeated Braden.
"What's this?" demanded the man. "I been on plenty of ships, but nobody ever..."
Braden hit him. The four other men started. It is strictly contrary to law for a merchant-ship officer to hit a crewman. The sharp-eyed man went down and Braden turned to the chubby man with the innocent expression.
"Empty your ship-bag," he ordered coldly. "Now!"
The chubby man stared. His mouth dropped open. He looked helplessly at the others.
Braden hit him. And then he pointed at another man. But the one with the battered face roared and charged. The other two lunged ...
But Braden had a strictly personal advantage. He'd been raised on a high-gravity planet, and consequently he had high-speed muscular reactions. A small boy has to move faster to catch a ball in a 1.7 G. world than to catch one under normal gravity weight-conditions. Since, as a boy, Braden had played under such conditions, he moved faster than average when he had to.
So he did not need to fight in conventional fashion. He snatched up a ship-bag and used it as a flail, knocking the man with the battered face halfway across the cabin into crashing contact with a wall. The ship-bag burst. He snatched up another bag as he saw a blaster come tumbling out of the spilled contents of the burst bag. Braden heaved the second bag at the legs of another man and jumped the last man with ruthlessly battering fists. In all this he followed the sound rule that one should never do the expected in a barroom-style combat. He'd hit without warning, twice. He'd used a ship-bag - not an intimidating weapon in itself - and cracked a man's head against a wall. He'd tripped another man with a second bag - the man had certainly expected almost anything else. He'd fought the last man along strictly orthodox lines because that man just dimly realized that Braden didn't fight in any standard fashion.
The man who had been tripped was crawling toward the blaster from the burst bag when Braden put his heel on the outstretched hand. The man howled.
Braden picked up the blaster. He raised his heel.
"Pick out your ship-bag," he said gently, "and empty it. On the floor. Now."