The Star Lord Part 16

"But you told me the boat was all provisioned!"

"I thought it was, when I saw the tail-end of that truck! But you didn't give me time to check. Why did you have to be in such a hurry?"

Groaning, Jasperson turned again to peer at the unfamiliar suns.

"How long will it take us to reach an inhabited planet, do you think?"

"I don't know, because I don't know just where we are. With luck, maybe a week, maybe two."

"How long can we live without water?"

"Longer than you'd think. Twelve to fifteen days if we don't move around. We may be able to land somewhere before then. If not--" His voice rose to a sudden shriek. "_What good are those twenty-five thousand credits going to do me now?_"

The secretary sat in numb collapse, but Jasperson prowled the room, up and down, up and down, past the rows of empty seats, while Davis sat and watched him with glittering eyes. Jasperson's head was aching, and he was aware, all at once, that he was out of breath, as though he had been climbing a steep hill under a broiling sun.

"Have to see to this," he muttered. "They can't treat me this way."

Stumbling, he lurched down the aisle towards Davis, staggering like a drunken man.

"Got to have more air, Davis. This won't do."

Insolently, Davis got up and looked at the oxygen indicator set in the wall.

"Needle's falling a bit. I'll turn on another tank." He touched the switch, then sat down again.

Jasperson began to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

With shaking hand he pointed, laughing harder, his sagging cheeks quivering as he roared.

"It's those chairs! Ever see such silly chairs? The way they sit there, and look at you?"

"Hey, man, you're drunk! I wonder...."

He got up to look at the oxygen dial again. The needle had fallen still further.

"Where's that oxygen?" he shouted. He rushed into the inner compartment and was back immediately, his eyes black with terror.

"No air reserve either! Only that one tank! You great, blundering, condemned fool! A man can live for fifteen days without water, but he can't live ten minutes without air. We're done for!"

Jasperson giggled.

Davis collapsed, and he, too, began to laugh, a helpless, gasping laugh.

They had entirely forgotten the self-effacing secretary, but the noise of their dying laughter did not disturb him. He had already fallen sideways in his chair, and would never wake again.

On the _Star Lord_, Tom and Dorothy sat in the empty lounge, looking through the observation port at the real stars that studded the void.

They were holding hands. They were not afraid, and there was nothing they needed to say.

Some of the doomed pa.s.sengers sat in the Bar, drinking steadily. Others sat and stared at nothingness. Professor Larrabee lay in his cabin, his face turned to the wall, his eyes closed. But he was not sleeping. He was thinking of his wife, and a smile clothed his face.

In his cabin Captain Josiah Evans waited alone. His hair was almost white, now, his cheeks were sunken, and all semblance of youth had left him. Knowing the futility of his action, nevertheless he completed the day's entry in the s.h.i.+p's log, and closed the volume.

As the hours crept by he noticed that the temperature in the room was rising. Once more, for the last time, he called Operations.

"It's no use, Wyman. Let the Piles alone. It's only a matter of hours now--or perhaps minutes."

"Shall I cast loose the other Piles, sir?"

"No, no use in that, since you can't jettison Piles One, Two and Three.

When they go, we all go. It's impossible, now, that any rescue s.h.i.+p could get to us in time. You've done a good job, Wyman. You are now released from duty."

His hands were sweating, his whole body was wet from the high summer torridness of the room. Captain Evans wiped his sticky hands on his handkerchief and picked up the little red book, _Ley's s.p.a.ce s.h.i.+ps_.

Opening the book, he read for the last time the well-loved page. Then he took up his pen and made a new notation in the margin.

"_Star Lord: Lost, May 26, 2421, on the Thakura Ripples._"

He paused a moment, and then with firm, steady strokes he wrote the final entry: "_Destroyed by the arrogance of her owners, and the criminal pride and weakness of her Captain._"

He put down the pen, and laid his head on his desk.

Hour after hour Boat A circled the dying _Star Lord_, its weary pa.s.sengers tense with hope for the all but impossible rescue. Alan sat next to Tanya, guarding the sleeping children.

Suddenly she sat up. "What's that? Out there?"

Over the loudspeaker came Thayer's voice. "We have successfully made contact with a rescue s.h.i.+p. A s.p.a.ce cruiser will reach us in approximately eight hours."

Tanya scarcely heard him. She was still peering out, her eyes on the faint lights of the _Star Lord_.

"Look!" she cried.

"Shut your eyes!" shouted Thayer. "Everybody turn your head!"

Far out in s.p.a.ce where the _Star Lord_ had been was a brilliant red glow, like many suns. It changed, suddenly, to a blinding light, so bright that it was more blue than white, then vanished.

Man had not yet made himself Lord of the Stars.