Jack of No Trades Part 4

"Attention, everyone. Flash news item just received. There is a freighter out of control enroute from Ganymede to Mars. Unless the freighter can be brought under control, it will have to be abandoned."

So what, I thought. It's happened before. So some company loses a freighter. They're insured.

Artie's voice went right on uninterrupted by my sour thoughts. "The present course of the s.h.i.+p is interception of Mars. Unless the course can be changed, the s.h.i.+p might plunge into Mars."

So what again? They're still insured. The crew can abandon s.h.i.+p in the lifeboats. So the s.h.i.+p makes a microscopic dent in Mars. It's better than 99% wasteland.

"The exact point at which impact with Mars will be made is being computed right now. What makes the whole thing terrible is that the freighter is loaded with fissionable material exported from Ganymede.

If the s.h.i.+p is not stopped or diverted before it reaches Mars, the impact will bring all the units of fissionable material into super critical proximity."

And that, I realized, will not be good for Mars because the thin atmosphere of the planet will let the s.h.i.+p get right through to the surface before the tough skin could get much more than cherry red. And the s.h.i.+p would bury itself in the soft red soil (how deep?) before the impact sandwiched the containers of fissionable material enough for detonation proximity.

Whew! My interest began to increase.

That was Artie Jones giving the news. He was like that, and it was not part of his regular job. He did it because he wanted to keep people up with the latest. He was Computers and Communications engineer.

He finished off by saying, "Long-range scopes are looking for the s.h.i.+p now. As soon as it is located and magnifiers thrown into the circuit, it will be 'vised. I'll have the signals relayed to the rec room trideo.

"It is, by the way, one of our own company freighters."

Alarms clanged in my head. Yowee!

I raced for the rec room. Nearly everybody else was doing the same.

Orrin was playing a half-hearted game of cribbage with Gus. Goil sat by himself in a corner reading. w.i.l.l.y was not there.

Randy and Manuel were already arguing about how much fissionable a freighter like that could carry. I settled the argument by telling them exactly how much. They both whistled and shook their heads. Randy said:

"If that s.h.i.+p buries itself deeply enough in the surface and explodes, it'll make a neat hole in Mars."

I looked askance at Goil and saw that he was not reading. I said, "Hole, h.e.l.l! With the tonnage they have on that s.h.i.+p, it'll take a chunk out of the surface the size of Australia. If it goes deep enough, it might even crack the planet wide open. It couldn't be any worse."

I wasn't at all certain anything like cracking the planet would happen. n.o.body could know just what sort of blast that tonnage could make. But I wanted it to sound really bad. I sneaked a quick look at Goil. He was looking pretty worried.

Now, I knew our company had some real estate on Mars. A few mines, a number of atmosphere generator factories and several gravity generator plants. And just about this time I strongly suspected that Goil had some stock and other holdings in the Mars territory.

"That's only part of it," I said. "Think of what will happen to Mars's atmosphere if that much planet is scattered around."

"Yeah," said Manuel. "Dust. Red dust. And how about all that undetonated radioactive material?"

"Which will be dust also," I said, "thoroughly mixed in with all the rest of the dust."

Gus had finished his game of cribbage with Orrin and had come over. He said, "The dust will shut out what dim sunlight there is and the whole planet will be in for a deep freeze."

"What's the half-life of that stuff in the freighter?" I asked Orrin.

I knew, but I wanted Goil to know too. Orrin told me.

The alarm that had clattered in my brain had settled down to a soothing purr. I began to add three and three hoping to get nine.

Right now I needed a gestalt of something whose whole would be a lot greater than the sum of its parts. The parts I believe I had, and the sum I think was due to come up soon.

I went out and headed for the computer room. Artie was in there trying to listen to a dozen news reports at one time. He wouldn't miss any of them, for a flock of recorders were going all at once.

I grabbed him by a shoulder and spun him around and looked as hard and serious as I could.

"Artie," I said, "I know d.a.m.ned well you computed a course for w.i.l.l.y the other day, for an asteroid to orbit just outside Earth. I want you to give me the exact course, where and when. And I want it now. This is official business, Artie."

I must have looked extremely convincing, for Artie paled a little and did not try to deny anything.

"--I can't, Sam," he said. "I gave the original tapes and sheets to w.i.l.l.y. I threw away the duplicates."

"Dammit, Artie!" I shouted, now really mad. "Then you'd better start remembering pretty good, because you're going to sit right down here and I'm going to sit with you, and you are going to give me as nearly as you can the course of w.i.l.l.y's asteroid."

This was just about an impossible request. I knew it, and Artie knew it. But he sat down at the console of the computer and said:

"I'll do the best I can, Sam."

I went to w.i.l.l.y's room and banged on the door then threw it open. He wasn't there. For sure then he would be someplace he wasn't supposed to be. So I headed for one likely place.

w.i.l.l.y was there all right. The chef shuffled around nervously, probably wondering if I'd just chew him out for letting w.i.l.l.y in the galley, or tell Orrin. He offered me ham and eggs. I refused sharply.

"Elmer," I said, "blast off."

Elmer did.

As soon as w.i.l.l.y and I were alone, I said, "w.i.l.l.y, you got me and Mr.

Orrin in a pack of trouble. Why don't you tell me where the generator and the converter are. If we can get them back to the stock room, nothing can be proved."

w.i.l.l.y couldn't look me in the face. He added three too many spoons of sugar to his coffee then stirred it so fast it spilled over the edge of the cup.

"Come on, w.i.l.l.y. Where?"

w.i.l.l.y spent the next minute trying to turn inside out. He finally squeaked. "I can't, Sam."

"Why not, w.i.l.l.y?"

It was my turn to be silent for a minute. It seemed a lot longer. I said, "I think you better tell me all about it, w.i.l.l.y."

He did.

I went back to the recreation room.

The trideo was on and some narrator's voice was explaining and showing the course of the s.h.i.+p on a chart, and just where it would go.