Derelict Part 1

Derelict.

by Alan Edward Nourse.

_What was the mystery of this great s.h.i.+p from the dark, deep reaches of s.p.a.ce? For, within its death-filled chambers--was the avenue of life!_

DERELICT

By Alan E. Nourse

Ill.u.s.trated by Ed Emsh

John Sabo, second in command, sat bolt upright in his bunk, blinking wide-eyed at the darkness. The alarm was screaming through the Satellite Station, its harsh, nerve-jarring clang echoing and re-echoing down the metal corridors, penetrating every nook and crevice and cubicle of the lonely outpost, screaming incredibly through the dark sleeping period.

Sabo shook the sleep from his eyes, and then a panic of fear burst into his mind. The alarm! Tumbling out of his bunk in the darkness, he crashed into the far bulkhead, staggering giddily in the impossible gravity as he pawed about for his magnaboots, his heart pounding fiercely in his ears. The _alarm_! Impossible, after so long, after these long months of bitter waiting-- In the corridor he collided with Brownie, looking like a frightened gnome, and he growled profanity as he raced down the corridor for the Central Control.

Frightened eyes turned to him as he blinked at the bright lights of the room. The voices rose in a confused, anxious babble, and he shook his head and swore, and ploughed through them toward the screen. "Kill that d.a.m.ned alarm!" he roared, blinking as he counted faces. "Somebody get the Skipper out of his sack, p.r.o.nto, and stop that clatter! What's the trouble?"

The radioman waved feebly at the view screen, s.h.i.+mmering on the great side panel. "We just picked it up--"

It was a s.h.i.+p, moving in from beyond Saturn's rings, a huge, gray-black blob in the silvery screen, moving in toward the Station with ponderous, clumsy grace, growing larger by the second as it sped toward them. Sabo felt the fear spill over in his mind, driving out all thought, and he sank into the control chair like a well-trained automaton. His gray eyes were wide, trained for long military years to miss nothing; his fingers moved over the panel with deft skill. "Get the men to stations," he growled, "and will somebody kindly get the Skipper down here, if he can manage to take a minute."

"I'm right here." The little graying man was at his elbow, staring at the screen with angry red eyes. "Who told you to shut off the alarm?"

"n.o.body told me. Everyone was here, and it was getting on my nerves."

"What a shame." Captain Loomis' voice was icy. "I give orders on this Station," he said smoothly, "and you'll remember it." He scowled at the great gray s.h.i.+p, looming closer and closer. "What's its course?"

"Going to miss us by several thousand kilos at least. Look at that thing! It's _traveling_."

"Contact it! This is what we've been waiting for." The captain's voice was hoa.r.s.e.

Sabo spun a dial, and cursed. "No luck. Can't get through. It's pa.s.sing us--"

"Then _grapple_ it, stupid! You want me to wipe your nose, too?"

Sabo's face darkened angrily. With slow precision he set the servo fixes on the huge gray hulk looming up in the viewer, and then snapped the switches sharply. Two small servos shoved their blunt noses from the landing port of the Station, and slipped silently into s.p.a.ce alongside.

Then, like a pair of trained dogs, they sped on their beams straight out from the Station toward the approaching s.h.i.+p. The intruder was dark, moving at tremendous velocity past the Station, as though unaware of its existence. The servos moved out, and suddenly diverged and reversed, twisting in long arcs to come alongside the strange s.h.i.+p, finally moving in at the same velocity on either side. There was a sharp flash of contact power; then, like a mammoth slow-motion monster, the s.h.i.+p jerked in mids.p.a.ce and turned a graceful end-for-end arc as the servo-grapplers gripped it like leeches and whined, glowing ruddy with the jolting power flowing through them. Sabo watched, hardly breathing, until the great s.h.i.+p spun and slowed and stopped. Then it reversed direction, and the servos led it triumphantly back toward the landing port of the Station.

Sabo glanced at the radioman, a frown creasing his forehead. "Still nothing?"

"Not a peep."

He stared out at the great s.h.i.+p, feeling a chill of wonder and fear crawl up his spine. "So this is the mysterious puzzle of Saturn," he muttered. "This is what we've been waiting for."

There was a curious eager light in Captain Loomis' eyes as he looked up.

"Oh, no. Not this."

"What?"

"Not this. The s.h.i.+ps we've seen before were tiny, flat." His little eyes turned toward the s.h.i.+p, and back to Sabo's heavy face. "This is something else, something quite different." A smile curved his lips, and he rubbed his hands together. "We go out for trout and come back with a whale. This s.h.i.+p's from s.p.a.ce, deep s.p.a.ce. Not from Saturn. This one's from the stars."

The strange s.h.i.+p hung at the side of the Satellite Station, silent as a tomb, still gently rotating as the Station slowly spun in its...o...b..t around Saturn.

In the captain's cabin the men s.h.i.+fted restlessly, uneasily facing the eager eyes of their captain. The old man paced the floor of the cabin, his white hair mussed, his face red with excitement. Even his carefully calm face couldn't conceal the eagerness burning in his eyes as he faced the crew. "Still no contact?" he asked Sparks.

The radioman shook his head anxiously. "Not a sign. I've tried every signal I know at every wave frequency that could possibly reach them.

I've even tried a dozen frequencies that couldn't possibly reach them, and I haven't stirred them up a bit. They just aren't answering."

Captain Loomis swung on the group of men. "All right, now, I want you to get this straight. This is our catch. We don't know what's aboard it, and we don't know where it came from, but it's our prize. That means not a word goes back home about it until we've learned all there is to learn. We're going to get the honors on this one, not some eager Admiral back home--"

The men stirred uneasily, worried eyes seeking Sabo's face in alarm.

"What about the law?" growled Sabo. "The law says everything must be reported within two hours."

"Then we'll break the law," the captain snapped. "I'm captain of this Station, and those are your orders. You don't need to worry about the law--I'll see that you're protected, but this is too big to fumble. This s.h.i.+p is from the stars. That means it must have an Interstellar drive.

You know what that means. The Government will fall all over itself to reward us--"

Sabo scowled, and the worry deepened in the men's faces. It was hard to imagine the Government falling all over itself for anybody. They knew too well how the Government worked. They had heard of the swift trials, the harsh imprisonments that awaited even the petty infringers. The Military Government had no time to waste on those who stepped out of line, they had no mercy to spare. And the men knew that their captain was not in favor in top Government circles. Crack patrol commanders were not shunted into remote, lifeless Satellite Stations if their stand in the Government was high. And deep in their minds, somehow, the men knew they couldn't trust this little, sharp-eyed, white-haired man. The credit for such a discovery as this might go to him, yes--but there would be little left for them.

"The law--" Sabo repeated stubbornly.

"d.a.m.n the law! We're stationed out here in this limbo to watch Saturn and report any activity we see coming from there. There's nothing in our orders about anything else. There have been s.h.i.+ps from there, they think, but not this s.h.i.+p. The Government has spent billions trying to find an Interstellar, and never gotten to first base." The captain paused, his eyes narrowing. "We'll go aboard this s.h.i.+p," he said softly.

"We'll find out what's aboard it, and where it's from, and we'll take its drive. There's been no resistance yet, but it could be dangerous. We can't a.s.sume anything. The boarding party will report everything they find to me. One of them will have to be a drive man. That's you, Brownie."

The little man with the sharp black eyes looked up eagerly. "I don't know if I could tell anything--"

"You can tell more than anyone else here. n.o.body else knows s.p.a.ce drive.

I'll count on you. If you bring back a good report, perhaps we can cancel out certain--unfortunate items in your record. But one other should board with you--" His eyes turned toward John Sabo.

"Not me. This is your goat." The mate's eyes were sullen. "This is gross breach, and you know it. They'll have you in irons when we get back. I don't want anything to do with it."

"You're under orders, Sabo. You keep forgetting."

"They're illegal orders, sir!"

"I'll take responsibility for that."

Sabo looked the old man straight in the eye. "You mean you'd sell us down a rat hole to save your skin. That's what you mean."

Captain Loomis' eyes widened incredulously. Then his face darkened, and he stepped very close to the big man. "You'll watch your tongue, I think," he gritted. "Be careful what you say to me, Sabo. Be very careful. Because if you don't, _you'll_ be in irons, and we'll see just how long you last when you get back home. Now you've got your orders.

You'll board the s.h.i.+p with Brownie."

The big man's fists were clenched until the knuckles were white. "You don't know what's over there!" he burst out. "We could be slaughtered."

The captain's smile was unpleasant. "That would be such a pity," he murmured. "I'd really hate to see it happen--"