THE EXPENDABLES

                           BY A. E. VAN VOGT

                         ILLUSTRATED BY FINLAY

                    The alien was deadly, dangerous
                    and inhuman--but he was not the
                    most feared enemy on the ship!

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
             If Worlds of Science Fiction September 1963.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]




                                   I


One hundred and nine years after leaving Earth, the spaceship, _Hope of
Man_, went into orbit around Alta III.

The following "morning" Captain Browne informed the shipload of fourth
and fifth generation colonists that a manned lifeboat would be dropped
to the planet's surface.

"Every member of the crew must consider himself expendable," he
said earnestly. "This is the day that our great grandparents, our
forefathers, who boldly set out for the new space frontier so long ago,
looked forward to with unfaltering courage. We must not fail them."

He concluded his announcement over the intercom system of the big ship
by saying that the names of the crew members of the lifeboat would be
given out within the hour. "And I know that every real man aboard will
want to see his name there."

John Lesbee, the fifth of his line aboard, had a sinking sensation as
he heard those words--and he was not mistaken.

Even as he tried to decide if he should give the signal for a desperate
act of rebellion, Captain Browne made the expected announcement.

The commander said, "And I know you will all join him in his moment of
pride and courage when I tell you that John Lesbee will lead the crew
that carries the hopes of man in this remote area of space. And now the
others--"

He thereupon named seven of the nine persons with whom Lesbee had been
conspiring to seize control of the ship.

Since the lifeboat would only hold eight persons, Lesbee recognized
that Browne was dispatching as many of his enemies as he could. He
listened with a developing dismay, as the commander ordered all persons
on the ship to come to the recreation room. "Here I request that the
crew of the lifeboat join me and the other officers on stage. Their
instructions are to surrender themselves to any craft which seeks to
intercept them. They will be equipped with instruments whereby we here
can watch, and determine the stage of scientific attainments of the
dominant race on the planet below."

       *       *       *       *       *

Lesbee hurried to his room on the technicians' deck, hoping that
perhaps Tellier or Cantlin would seek him out there. He felt himself
in need of a council of war, however brief. He waited five minutes, but
not one member of his conspiratorial group showed.

Nonetheless, he had time to grow calm. Peculiarly, it was the smell of
the ship that soothed him most. From the earliest days of his life, the
odor of energy and the scent of metal under stress had been perpetual
companions. At the moment, with the ship in orbit, there was a letting
up of stress. The smell was of old energies rather than new. But the
effect was similar.

He sat in the chair he used for reading, eyes closed, breathing in that
complex of odors, product of so many titanic energies. Sitting there,
he felt the fear leave his mind and body. He grew brave again, and
strong.

Lesbee recognized soberly that his plan to seize power had involved
risks. Worse, no one would question Browne's choice of him as the
leader of the mission. "I am," thought Lesbee, "probably the most
highly trained technician ever to be on this ship." Browne Three
had taken him when he was ten, and started him on the long grind of
learning that led him, one after the other, to master the mechanical
skills of all the various technical departments. And Browne Four had
continued his training.

He was taught how to repair relay systems. He gradually came to
understand the purposes of countless analogs. The time came when he
could visualize the entire automation. Long ago, the colossal cobweb
of electronic instruments within the walls had become almost an
extension of his nervous system.

During those years of work and study, each daily apprenticeship chore
left his slim body exhausted. After he came off duty, he sought a brief
relaxation and usually retired to an early rest.

He never did find the time to learn the intricate theory that underlay
the ship's many operations.

His father, while he was alive, had made numerous attempts to pass
his knowledge on to his son. But it was hard to teach complexities to
a tired and sleepy boy. Lesbee even felt slightly relieved when his
parent died. It took the pressure off him. Since then, however, he had
come to realize that the Browne family, by forcing a lesser skill on
the descendant of the original commander of the ship, had won their
greatest victory.

As he headed finally for the recreation room, Lesbee found himself
wondering: Had the Brownes trained him with the intention of preparing
him for such a mission as this?

His eyes widened. If that was true, then his own conspiracy was merely
an excuse. The decision to kill him might actually have been made more
than a decade ago, and light years away....

       *       *       *       *       *

As the lifeboat fell toward Alta III, Lesbee and Tellier sat in the
twin control chairs and watched on the forward screen the vast, misty
atmosphere of the planet.

Tellier was thin and intellectual, a descendant of the physicist Dr.
Tellier who had made many speed experiments in the early days of the
voyage. It had never been understood why spaceships could not attain
even a good fraction of the speed of light, let alone velocities
greater than light. When the scientist met his untimely death, there
was no one with the training to carry on a testing program.

It was vaguely believed by the trained personnel who succeeded Tellier
that the ship had run into one of the paradoxes implicit in the
Lorenz-Fitzgerald Contraction theory.

Whatever the explanation, it was never solved.

Watching Tellier, Lesbee wondered if his companion and best friend felt
as empty inside as he did. Incredibly, this was the first time he--or
anyone--had been outside the big ship. "We're actually heading down,"
he thought, "to one of those great masses of land and water, a planet."

As he watched, fascinated, the massive ball grew visibly bigger.

They came in at a slant, a long, swift, angling approach, ready to jet
away if any of the natural radiation belts proved too much for their
defense systems. But as each stage of radiation registered in turn,
the dials showed that the lifeboat machinery made the proper responses
automatically.

The silence was shattered suddenly by an alarm bell.

Simultaneously, one of the screens focused on a point of rapidly
moving light far below. The light darted toward them.

A missile!

Lesbee caught his breath.

But the shining projectile veered off, turned completely around, took
up position several miles away, and began to fall with them.

His first thought was: "They'll never let us land," and he experienced
an intense disappointment.

Another signal brrred from the control board.

"They're probing us," said Tellier, tensely.

An instant after the words were uttered, the lifeboat seemed to shudder
and to stiffen under them. It was the unmistakable feel of a tractor
beam. Its field clutched the lifeboat, drew it, held it.

The science of the Alta III inhabitants was already proving itself
formidable.

Underneath him the lifeboat continued its movement.

The entire crew gathered around and watched as the point of brightness
resolved into an object, which rapidly grew larger. It loomed up close,
bigger than they.

There was a metallic bump. The lifeboat shuddered from stem to stern.

Even before the vibrations ceased Tellier said, "Notice they put our
airlock against theirs."

Behind Lesbee, his companions began that peculiar joking of the
threatened. It was a coarse comedy, but it had enough actual humor
suddenly to break through his fear. Involuntarily he found himself
laughing.

Then, momentarily free of anxiety, aware that Browne was watching and
that there was no escape, he said, "Open the airlock! Let the aliens
capture us as ordered."




                                  II


A few minutes after the outer airlock was opened, the airlock of
the alien ship folded back also. Rubberized devices rolled out and
contacted the Earth lifeboat, sealing off both entrances from the
vacuum of space.

Air hissed into the interlocking passageway between the two craft. In
the alien craft's lock, an inner door opened.

Again Lesbee held his breath.

There was a movement in the passageway. A creature ambled into view.
The being came forward with complete assurance, and pounded with
something he held at the end of one of his four leathery arms on the
hull.

The creature had four legs and four arms, and a long thin body held
straight up. It had almost no neck, yet the many skin folds between the
head and the body indicated great flexibility was possible.

Even as Lesbee noted the details of its appearance, the being turned
his head slightly, and its two large expressionless eyes gazed straight
at the hidden wall receptor that was photographing the scene, and
therefore straight into Lesbee's eyes.

Lesbee blinked at the creature, then tore his gaze away, swallowed
hard, and nodded at Tellier. "Open up!" he commanded.

The moment the inner door of the Earth lifeboat opened, six more of the
four-legged beings appeared one after another in the passageway, and
walked forward in the same confident way as had the first.

All seven creatures entered the open door of the lifeboat.

As they entered their thoughts came instantly into Lesbee's mind....

       *       *       *       *       *

As Dzing and his boarding party trotted from the small Karn ship
through the connecting airlock, his chief officer thought a message to
him.

"Air pressure and oxygen content are within a tiny percentage of what
exists at ground level on Karn. They can certainly live on our planet."

Dzing moved forward into the Earth ship, and realized that he was in
the craft's control chamber. There, for the first time, he saw the men.
He and his crew ceased their forward motion; and the two groups of
beings--the humans and the Karn--gazed at each other.

The appearance of the two-legged beings did not surprise Dzing. Pulse
viewers had, earlier, penetrated the metal walls of the lifeboat and
had accurately photographed the shape and dimension of those aboard.

His first instruction to his crew was designed to test if the strangers
were, in fact, surrendering. He commanded: "Convey to the prisoners
that we require them as a precaution to remove their clothing."

... Until that direction was given, Lesbee was still uncertain as to
whether or not these beings could receive human thoughts as he was
receiving theirs. From the first moment, the aliens had conducted
their mental conversations _as if_ they were unaware of the thoughts
of the human beings. Now he watched the Karn come forward. One tugged
suggestively at his clothing. And there was no doubt.

The mental telepathy was a one-way flow only--from the Karn to the
humans.

He was already savoring the implications of that as he hastily
undressed.... It was absolutely vital that Browne do not find it out.

Lesbee removed all his clothes; then, before laying them down, took out
his notebook and pen. Standing there naked he wrote hurriedly:

"Don't let on that we can read the minds of these beings."

He handed the notebook around, and he felt a lot better as each of the
men read it, and nodded at him silently.

Dzing communicated telepathically with someone on the ground. "These
strangers," he reported, "clearly acted under command to surrender. The
problem is, how can we now let them overcome us without arousing their
suspicion that this is what we want them to do?"

Lesbee did not receive the answer directly. But he picked it up from
Dzing's mind: "Start tearing the lifeboat apart. See if that brings a
reaction."

       *       *       *       *       *

The members of the Karn boarding party went to work at once. Off came
the control panels; floor plates were melted and ripped up. Soon
instruments, wiring, controls were exposed for examination. Most
interesting of all to the aliens were the numerous computers and their
accessories.

Browne must have watched the destruction; for now, before the Karn
could start wrecking the automatic machinery, his voice interjected:

"Watch out, you men! I'm going to shut your airlock and cause your boat
to make a sharp right turn in exactly twenty seconds."

For Lesbee and Tellier that simply meant sitting down in their chairs,
and turning them so that the acceleration pressure would press them
against the backs. The other men sank to the ripped-up floor, and
braced themselves.

Underneath Dzing, the ship swerved. The turn began slowly, but it
propelled him and his fellows over to one wall of the control room.
There he grabbed with his numerous hands at some handholds that had
suddenly moved out from the smooth metal. By the time the turn grew
sharper, he had his four short legs braced, and he took the rest of the
wide swing around with every part of his long, sleek body taut. His
companions did the same.

Presently, the awful pressure eased up, and he was able to estimate
that their new direction was almost at right angles to what it had been.

He had reported what was happening while it was going on. Now, the
answer came: "Keep on destroying. See what they do, and be prepared to
succumb to anything that looks like a lethal attack."

Lesbee wrote quickly in his notebook: "Our method of capturing them
doesn't have to be subtle. They'll make it easy for us--so we can't
lose."

Lesbee waited tensely as the notebook was passed around. It was still
hard for him to believe that no one else had noticed what he had about
this boarding party.

Tellier added a note of his own: "It's obvious now that these beings
were also instructed to consider themselves expendable."

And that settled it for Lesbee. The others hadn't noticed what he had.
He sighed with relief at the false analysis, for it gave him that
most perfect of all advantages: that which derived from his special
education.

Apparently, he alone knew enough to have analyzed what these creatures
were.

The proof was in the immense clarity of their thoughts. Long ago, on
earth, it had been established that man had a faltering telepathic
ability, which could be utilized consistently only by electronic
amplification _outside_ his brain. The amount of energy needed for
the step-up process was enough to burn out brain nerves, if applied
directly.

Since the Karn were utilizing it directly, they couldn't be living
beings.

Therefore, Dzing and his fellows were an advanced robot type.

The true inhabitants of Alta III were not risking their own skins at
all.

Far more important to Lesbee, he could see how he might use these
marvellous mechanisms to defeat Browne, take over the _Hope of Man_,
and start the long journey back to Earth.




                                  III


He had been watching the Karn at their work of destruction, while he
had these thoughts. Now, he said aloud: "Hainker, Graves."

"Yes?" The two men spoke together.

"In a few moments I'm going to ask Captain Browne to turn the ship
again. When he does, use our specimen gas guns!"

The men grinned with relief. "Consider it done," said Hainker.

Lesbee ordered the other four crewmen to be ready to use the
specimen-holding devices at top speed. To Tellier he said, "You take
charge if anything happens to me."

Then he wrote one more message in the notebook: "These beings will
probably continue their mental intercommunication after they are
apparently rendered unconscious. Pay no attention, and do not comment
on it in any way."

He felt a lot better when that statement also had been read by the
others, and the notebook was once more in his possession. Quickly, he
spoke to the screen:

"Captain Browne! Make another turn, just enough to pin them."

And so they captured Dzing and his crew.

As he had expected, the Karn continued their telepathic conversation.
Dzing reported to his ground contact: "I think we did that rather
well."

There must have been an answering message from below, because he went
on, "Yes, commander. We are now prisoners as per your instructions,
and shall await events.... The imprisoning method? Each of us is
pinned down by a machine which has been placed astride us, with the
main section adjusted to the contour of our bodies. A series of rigid
metal appendages fasten our arms and legs. All these devices are
electronically controlled, and we can of course escape at any time.
Naturally, such action is for later...."

Lesbee was chilled by the analysis; but for expendables there was no
turning back.

He ordered his men: "Get dressed. Then start repairing the ship. Put
all the floor plates back except the section at G-8. They removed some
of the analogs, and I'd better make sure myself that it all goes back
all right."

When he had dressed, he re-set the course of the lifeboat, and called
Browne. The screen lit up after a moment, and there staring back at him
was the unhappy countenance of the forty-year-old officer.

Browne said glumly: "I want to congratulate you and your crew on
your accomplishments. It would seem that we have a small scientific
superiority over this race, and that we can attempt a limited landing."

Since there would never be a landing on Alta III, Lesbee simply waited
without comment as Browne seemed lost in thought.

The officer stirred finally. He still seemed uncertain. "Mr. Lesbee,"
he said, "as you must understand, this is an extremely dangerous
situation for me--and--" he added hastily--"for this entire expedition."

What struck Lesbee, as he heard those words, was that Browne was
not going to let him back on the ship. But he had to get aboard to
accomplish his own purpose. He thought: "I'll have to bring this whole
conspiracy out into the open, and apparently make a compromise offer."

He drew a deep breath, gazed straight into the eyes of Browne's image
on the screen and said with the complete courage of a man for whom
there is no turning back: "It seems to me, sir, that we have two
alternatives. We can resolve all these personal problems either through
a democratic election or by a joint captaincy, you being one of the
captains and I being the other."

       *       *       *       *       *

To any other person who might have been listening the remark must
have seemed a complete non sequitur. Browne, however, understood its
relevance. He said with a sneer, "So you're out in the open. Well, let
me tell you, Mr. Lesbee, there was never any talk of elections when the
Lesbees were in power. And for a very good reason. A spaceship requires
a technical aristocracy to command it. As for a joint captaincy, it
wouldn't work."

Lesbee urged his lie: "If we're going to stay here, we'll need at least
two people of equal authority--one on the ground, one on the ship."

"I couldn't trust you on the ship!" said Browne flatly.

"Then you be on the ship," Lesbee proposed. "All such practical details
can be arranged."

The older man must have been almost beside himself with the intensity
of his own feelings on this subject. He flashed, "Your family has been
out of power for over fifty years! How can you still feel that you have
any rights?"

Lesbee countered, "How come you still know what I'm talking about?"

Browne said, a grinding rage in his tone, "The concept of inherited
power was introduced by the first Lesbee. It was never planned."

"But here you are," said Lesbee, "yourself a beneficiary of inherited
power."

Browne said from between clenched teeth: "It's absolutely ridiculous
that the Earth government which was in power when the ship left--and
every member of which has been long dead--should appoint somebody to
a command position ... and that now his descendant think that command
post should be his, and his family's, for all time!"

Lesbee was silent, startled by the dark emotions he had uncovered
in the man. He felt even more justified, if that were possible, and
advanced his next suggestion without a qualm.

"Captain, this is a crisis. We should postpone our private struggle.
Why don't we bring one of these prisoners aboard so that we can
question him by use of films, or play acting? Later, we can discuss
your situation and mine."

He saw from the look on Browne's face that the reasonableness of the
suggestion, _and its potentialities_, were penetrating.

Browne said quickly, "Only you come aboard--and with one prisoner only.
No one else!"

Lesbee felt a dizzying thrill as the man responded to his bait. He
thought: "It's like an exercise in logic. He'll try to murder me as
soon as he gets me alone and is satisfied that he can attack without
danger to himself. But that very scheme is what will get me aboard. And
I've got to get on the ship to carry out _my_ plan."

Browne was frowning. He said in a concerned tone: "Mr. Lesbee, can you
think of any reason why we should not bring one of these beings aboard?"

Lesbee shook his head. "No reason, sir," he lied.

Browne seemed to come to a decision. "Very well. I'll see you shortly,
and we can then discuss additional details."

Lesbee dared not say another word. He nodded, and broke the connection,
shuddering, disturbed, uneasy.

"But," he thought, "what else can we do?"

       *       *       *       *       *

He turned his attention to the part of the floor that had been left
open for him. Quickly, he bent down and studied the codes on each of
the programming units, as if he were seeking exactly the right ones
that had originally been in those slots.

He found the series he wanted: an intricate system of cross-connected
units that had originally been designed to program a remote-control
landing system, an advanced Waldo mechanism capable of landing the
craft on a planet and taking off again, all directed on the pulse level
of human thought.

He slid each unit of the series into its sequential position and locked
it in.

Then, that important task completed, he picked up the remote control
attachment for the series and casually put it in his pocket.

He returned to the control board and spent several minutes examining
the wiring and comparing it with a wall chart. A number of wires had
been torn loose. These he now re-connected, and at the same time he
managed with a twist of his pliers to short-circuit a key relay of the
remote control pilot.

Lesbee replaced the panel itself loosely. There was no time to connect
it properly. And, since he could easily justify his next move, he
pulled a cage out of the store-room. Into this he hoisted Dzing,
manacles and all.

Before lowering the lid he rigged into the cage a simple resistor that
would prevent the Karn from broadcasting on the human thought level.
The device was simple merely in that it was not selective. It had an
on-off switch which triggered, or stopped, energy flow in the metal
walls on the thought level.

When the device was installed, Lesbee slipped the tiny remote control
for _it_ into his other pocket. He did not activate the control. Not
yet.

From the cage Dzing telepathed: "It is significant that these beings
have selected me for this special attention. We might conclude that
it is a matter of mathematical accident, or else that they are very
observant and so noticed that I was the one who directed activities.
Whatever the reason, it would be foolish to turn back now."

A bell began to ring. As Lesbee watched, a spot of light appeared high
on one of the screens. It moved rapidly toward some crossed lines in
the exact center of the screen. Inexorably, then, the _Hope of Man_, as
represented by the light, and the lifeboat moved toward their fateful
rendezvous.




                                  IV


Browne's instructions were: "Come to Control Room Below!"

Lesbee guided his powered dolly with the cage on it out of the big
ship's airlock--and saw that the man in the control room of the lock
was Second Officer Selwyn. Heavy brass for such a routine task. Selwyn
waved at him with a twisted smile as Lesbee wheeled his cargo along the
silent corridor.

He saw no one else on his route. Other personnel had evidently been
cleared from this part of the vessel. A little later, grim and
determined, he set the cage down in the center of the big room and
anchored it magnetically to the floor.

As Lesbee entered the captain's office, Browne looked up from one of
the two control chairs and stepped down from the rubber-sheathed dais
to the same level as Lesbee. He came forward, smiling, and held out
his hand. He was a big man, as all the Brownes had been, bigger by a
head than Lesbee, good-looking in a clean-cut way. The two men were
alone.

"I'm glad you were so frank," he said. "I doubt if I could have spoken
so bluntly to you without your initiative as an example."

But as they shook hands, Lesbee was wary and suspicious. Lesbee
thought: "He's trying to recover from the insanity of his reaction. I
really blew him wide open."

Browne continued in the same hearty tone: "I've made up my mind. An
election is out of the question. The ship is swarming with untrained
dissident groups, most of which simply want to go back to Earth."

Lesbee, who had the same desire, was discreetly silent.

Browne said, "You'll be ground captain; I'll be ship captain. Why don't
we sit down right now and work out a communique on which we can agree
and that I can read over the intercom to the others?"

As Lesbee seated himself in the chair beside Browne, he was thinking:
"What can be gained from publicly naming me ground captain?"

He concluded finally, cynically, that the older man could gain the
confidence of John Lesbee--lull him, lead him on, delude him, destroy
him.

Surreptitiously Lesbee examined the room. Control Room Below was a
large square chamber adjoining the massive central engines. Its control
board was a duplicate of the one on the bridge located at the top of
the ship. The great vessel could be guided equally from either board,
except that pre-emptive power was on the bridge. The officer of the
watch was given the right to make Merit decisions in an emergency.

Lesbee made a quick mental calculation, and deduced that it was First
Officer Miller's watch on the bridge. Miller was a staunch supporter of
Browne. The man was probably watching them on one of his screens, ready
to come to Browne's aid at a moment's notice.

       *       *       *       *       *

A few minutes later, Lesbee listened thoughtfully as Browne read their
joint communique over the intercom, designating him as ground captain.
He found himself a little amazed, and considerably dismayed, at the
absolute confidence the older man must feel about his own power and
position on the ship. It was a big step, naming his chief rival to so
high a rank.

Browne's next act was equally surprising. While they were still on the
viewers, Browne reached over, clapped Lesbee affectionately on the
shoulders and said to the watching audience:

"As you all know, John is the only direct descendant of the original
captain. No one knows exactly what happened half a hundred years ago
when my grandfather first took command. But I remember the old man
always felt that only he understood how things should be. I doubt if
he had any confidence in _any_ young whippersnapper over whom he did
not have complete control. I often felt that my father was the victim
rather than the beneficiary of my grandfather's temper and feelings of
superiority."

Browne smiled engagingly. "Anyway, good people, though we can't unbreak
the eggs that were broken then, we can certainly start healing the
wounds, without--" his tone was suddenly firm--"negating the fact that
my own training and experience make me the proper commander of the ship
itself."

He broke off. "Captain Lesbee and I shall now jointly attempt to
communicate with the captured intelligent life form from the planet
below. You may watch, though we reserve the right to cut you off for
good reason." He turned to Lesbee. "What do you think we should do
first, John?"

Lesbee was in a dilemma. The first large doubt had come to him, the
possibility that perhaps the other was sincere. The possibility was
especially disturbing because in a few moments a part of his own plan
would be revealed.

He sighed, and realized that there was no turning back at this stage.
He thought: "We'll have to bring the entire madness out into the open,
and only then can we begin to consider agreement as real."

Aloud, he said in a steady voice, "Why not bring the prisoner out where
we can see him?"

As the tractor beam lifted Dzing out of the cage, and thus away from
the energies that had suppressed his thought waves, the Karn telepathed
to his contact on Alta III:

"Have been held in a confined space, the metal of which was energized
against communication. I shall now attempt to perceive and evaluate the
condition and performance of this ship--"

At that point, Browne reached over and clicked off the intercom. Having
shut off the audience, he turned accusingly to Lesbee, and said,
"Explain your failure to inform me that these beings communicated by
telepathy."

The tone of his voice was threatening. There was a hint of angry color
in his face.

It was the moment of discovery.

       *       *       *       *       *

Lesbee hesitated, and then simply pointed out how precarious their
relationship had been. He finished frankly, "I thought by keeping it
a secret I might be able to stay alive a little longer, which was
certainly not what you intended when you sent me out as an expendable."

Browne snapped, "But how did you hope to utilize?--"

He stopped. "Never mind," he muttered.

Dzing was telepathing again:

"In many ways this is mechanically a very advanced type ship. Atomic
energy drives are correctly installed. The automatic machinery performs
magnificently. There is massive energy screen equipment, and they can
put out a tractor beam to match anything we have that's mobile. But
there is a wrongness in the energy flows of this ship, which I lack the
experience to interpret. Let me furnish you some data...."

The data consisted of variable wave measurements, evidently--so
Lesbee deduced--the wave-lengths of the energy flows involved in the
"wrongness."

He said in alarm at that point, "Better drop him into the cage while we
analyze what he could be talking about."

Browne did so--as Dzing telepathed: "If what you suggest is true, then
these beings are completely at our mercy--"

_Cut off!_

Browne was turning on the intercom. "Sorry I had to cut you good people
off," he said. "You'll be interested to know that we have managed to
tune in on the thought pulses of the prisoner and have intercepted his
calls to someone on the planet below. This gives us an advantage." He
turned to Lesbee. "Don't you agree?"

Browne visibly showed no anxiety, whereas Dzing's final statement
flabbergasted Lesbee. "... _completely at our mercy_ ..." surely meant
exactly that. He was staggered that Browne could have missed the
momentous meaning.

Browne addressed him enthusiastically, "I'm excited by this telepathy!
It's a marvelous short-cut to communication, if we could build up
our own thought pulses. Maybe we could use the principle of the
remote-control landing device which, as you know, can project human
thoughts on a simple, gross level, where ordinary energies get confused
by the intense field needed for the landing."

What interested Lesbee in the suggestion was that he had in his pocket
a remote control for precisely such mechanically produced thought
pulses. Unfortunately, the control was for the lifeboat. It probably
would be advisable to tune the control to the ship landing system also.
It was a problem he had thought of earlier, and now Browne had opened
the way for an easy solution.

He held his voice steady as he said, "Captain, let me program those
landing analogs while you prepare the film communication project. That
way we can be ready for him either way."

Browne seemed to be completely trusting, for he agreed at once.

At Browne's direction, a film projector was wheeled in. It was swiftly
mounted on solid connections at one end of the room. The cameraman and
Third Officer Mindel--who had come in with him--strapped themselves
into two adjoining chairs attached to the projector, and were evidently
ready.

       *       *       *       *       *

While this was going on, Lesbee called various technical personnel.
Only one technician protested. "But, John," he said, "that way we have
a double control--with the lifeboat control having pre-emption over the
ship. That's very unusual."

It was unusual. But it was the lifeboat control that was in his pocket
where he could reach it quickly; and so he said adamantly, "Do you want
to talk to Captain Browne? Do you want his okay?"

"No, no." The technician's doubts seemed to subside. "I heard you
being named joint captain. You're the boss. It shall be done."

Lesbee put down the closed-circuit phone into which he had been
talking, and turned. It was then he saw that the film was ready to
roll, and that Browne had his fingers on the controls of the tractor
beam. The older man stared at him questioningly.

"Shall I go ahead?" he asked.

At this penultimate moment, Lesbee had a qualm.

Almost immediately he realized that the only alternative to what Browne
planned was that he reveal his own secret knowledge.

He hesitated, torn by doubts. Then: "Will you turn that off?" He
indicated the intercom.

Browne said to the audience, "We'll bring you in again on this in a
minute, good people." He broke the connection and gazed questioningly
at Lesbee.

Whereupon Lesbee said in a low voice, "Captain, I should inform you
that I brought the Karn aboard in the hope of using him against you."

"Well, that is a frank and open admission," the officer replied very
softly.

"I mention this," said Lesbee, "because if you had similar ulterior
motives, we should clear the air completely before proceeding with this
attempt at communication."

A blossom of color spread from Browne's neck over his face. At last
he said slowly, "I don't know how I can convince you, but I had no
schemes."

Lesbee gazed at Browne's open countenance, and suddenly he realized
that the officer was sincere. Browne had accepted the compromise. The
solution of a joint captaincy was agreeable to him.

Sitting there, Lesbee experienced an enormous joy. Seconds went by
before he realized what underlay the intense pleasurable excitement.
It was simply the discovery that--communication worked. You could tell
your truth and get a hearing ... if it made sense.

It seemed to him that his truth made a lot of sense. He was offering
Browne peace aboard the ship. Peace at a price, of course; but still
peace. And in this severe emergency Browne recognized the entire
validity of the solution.

So it was now evident to Lesbee.

Without further hesitation he told Browne that the creatures who had
boarded the lifeboat, were robots--not alive at all.

       *       *       *       *       *

Browne was nodding thoughtfully. Finally he said: "But I don't see how
this could be utilized to take over the ship."

Lesbee said patiently, "As you know, sir, the remote landing control
system includes five principal ideas which are projected very forcibly
on the thought level. Three of these are for guidance--up, down and
sideways. Intense magnetic fields, any one of which could partially
jam a complex robot's thinking processes. The fourth and fifth are
instructions to blast either up or down. The force of the blast
depends on how far the control is turned on. Since the energy used
is overwhelming those simple commands would take pre-emption over the
robot. When that first one came aboard the lifeboat, I had a scan
receiver--nondetectable--on him. This registered two power sources,
one pointing forward, one backward, from the chest level. That's why
I had him on his back when I brought him in here. But the fact is I
could have had him tilted and pointing at a target, and activated
either control four or five, thus destroying whatever was in the path
of the resulting blast. Naturally, I took all possible precautions to
make sure that this did not happen until you had indicated what you
intended to do. One of these precautions would enable us to catch this
creature's thoughts without--"

As he was speaking, he eagerly put his hand into his pocket, intending
to show the older man the tiny on-off control device by which--when it
was off--they would be able to read Dzing's thoughts without removing
him from the cage.

He stopped short in his explanation, because an ugly expression had
come suddenly into Browne's face.

The big man glanced at Third Officer Mindel. "Well, Dan," he said, "do
you think that's it?"

Lesbee noticed with shock that Mindel had on sound amplifying
earphones. He must have overheard every word that Browne and he had
spoken to each other.

Mindel nodded. "Yes, Captain," he said. "I very definitely think he
has now told us what we wanted to find out."

Lesbee grew aware that Browne had released himself from his
acceleration safety belt and was stepping away from his seat. The
officer turned and, standing very straight, said in a formal tone:

"Technician Lesbee, we have heard your admission of gross dereliction
of duty, conspiracy to overthrow the lawful government of this ship,
scheme to utilize alien creatures to destroy human beings, and
confession of other unspeakable crimes. In this extremely dangerous
situation, summary execution without formal trial is justified. I
therefore sentence you to death and order Third Officer Dan Mindel to--"

He faltered, and came to a stop.




                                   V


Two things had been happening as he talked, Lesbee squeezed the "off"
switch of the cage control, an entirely automatic gesture, convulsive,
a spasmodic movement, result of his dismay. It was a mindless gesture.
So far as he knew consciously, freeing Dzing's thoughts had no useful
possibility for him. His only real hope--as he realized almost
immediately--was to get his other hand into his remaining coat pocket
and with it manipulate the remote-control landing device, the secret of
which he had so naively revealed to Browne.

The second thing that happened was that Dzing, released from mental
control, telepathed:

"Free again--and this time of course permanently! I have just now
activated by remote control the relays that will in a few moments start
the engines of this ship, and I have naturally re-set the mechanism for
controlling the rate of acceleration--"

His thoughts must have impinged progressively on Browne, for it was at
that point that the officer paused uncertainly.

Dzing continued: "I verified your analysis. This vessel does not have
the internal energy flows of an interstellar ship. These two-legged
beings have therefore failed to achieve the Light Speed Effect which
alone makes possible trans-light velocities. I suspect they have taken
many generations to make this journey, are far indeed for their home
base, and I'm sure I can capture them all."

Lesbee reached over, tripped on the intercom and yelled at the screen:
"All stations prepare for emergency acceleration! Grab anything!"

To Browne he shouted: "Get to your seat--_quick_!"

His actions were automatic responses to danger. Only after the words
were spoken did it occur to him that he had no interest in the survival
of Captain Browne. And that in fact the only reason the man was in
danger was because he had stepped away from his safety belt, so that
Mindel's blaster would kill Lesbee without damaging Browne.

Browne evidently understood his danger. He started toward the control
chair from which he had released himself only moments before. His
reaching hands were still a foot or more from it when the impact
of Acceleration One stopped him. He stood there trembling like a
man who had struck an invisible but palpable wall. The next instant
Acceleration Two caught him and thrust him on his back to the floor.
He began to slide toward the rear of the room, faster and faster, and
because he was quick and understanding he pressed the palms of his
hands and his rubber shoes hard against the floor and so tried to slow
the movement of his body.

Lesbee was picturing other people elsewhere in the ship desperately
trying to save themselves. He groaned, for the commander's failure was
probably being duplicated everywhere.

Even as he had that thought, Acceleration Three caught Browne. Like
a rock propelled by a catapult he shot toward the rear wall. It was
cushioned to protect human beings, and so it reacted like rubber,
bouncing him a little. But the stuff had only momentary resilience.

Acceleration Four pinned Browne halfway into the cushioned wall. From
its imprisoning depths, he managed a strangled yell.

"Lesbee, put a tractor beam on me! Save me! I'll make it up to you. I--"

Acceleration Five choked off the words.

The man's appeal brought momentary wonder to Lesbee. He was amazed that
Browne hoped for mercy ... after what had happened.

Browne's anguished words did produce one effect in him. They reminded
him that there was something he must do. He forced his hand and his
arm to the control board and focussed a tractor beam that firmly
captured Third Officer Mindel and the cameraman. His intense effort was
barely in time. Acceleration followed acceleration, making movement
impossible. The time between each surge of increased speed grew longer.
The slow minutes lengthened into what seemed an hour, then many hours.
Lesbee was held in his chair as if he were gripped by hands of steel.
His eyes felt glassy; his body had long since lost all feeling.

He noticed something.

The rate of acceleration was different from what the original Tellier
had prescribed long ago. The actual increase in forward pressure each
time was less.

He realized something else. For a long time, no thoughts had come from
the Karn.

       *       *       *       *       *

Suddenly, he felt an odd shift in speed. A physical sensation of
slight, very slight, angular movement accompanied the maneuver.

Slowly, the metal-like bands let go of his body. The numb feeling was
replaced by the pricking as of thousands of tiny needles. Instead of
muscle-compressing acceleration there was only a steady pressure.

It was the pressure that he had in the past equated with gravity.

Lesbee stirred hopefully, and when he felt himself move, realized what
had happened. The artificial gravity had been shut off. Simultaneously,
the ship had made a half turn within its outer shell. The drive power
was now coming from below, a constant one gravity thrust.

At this late, late moment, he plunged his hand into the pocket which
held the remote control for the pilotless landing mechanism--and
activated it.

"That ought to turn on his thoughts," he told himself savagely.

But if Dzing was telepathing to his masters, it was no longer on the
human thought level. So Lesbee concluded unhappily.

The ether was silent.

He now grew aware of something more. The ship smelled different:
better, cleaner, purer.

Lesbee's gaze snapped over to the speed dials on the control board. The
figures registering there were unbelievable. They indicated that the
spaceship was traveling at a solid fraction of the speed of light.

Lesbee stared at the numbers incredulously. "We didn't have time!" he
thought. "How could we go so fast so quickly--in hours only to near the
speed of light!"

Sitting there, breathing hard, fighting to recover from the effects of
that prolonged speed-up, he felt the fantastic reality of the universe.
During all this slow century of flight through space, the _Hope of Man_
had had the potential for this vastly greater velocity.

He visualized the acceleration series so expertly programmed by Dzing
as having achieved a shift to a new state of matter in motion. The
"light speed effect," the Karn robot had called it.

"And Tellier missed it," he thought.

All those experiments the physicist had performed so painstakingly, and
left a record of, had missed the great discovery.

Missed it! And so a shipload of human beings had wandered for
generations through the black deeps of interstellar space.

       *       *       *       *       *

Across the room Browne was climbing groggily to his feet. He muttered,
"... Better get back to ... control chair."

He had taken only a few uncertain steps when a realization seemed to
strike him. He looked up then, and stared wildly at Lesbee. "Oh!"
he said. The sound came from the gut level, a gasp of horrified
understanding.

As he slapped a complex of tractor beams on Browne, Lesbee said,
"That's right, you're looking at your enemy. Better start talking. We
haven't much time."

Browne was pale now. But his mouth had been left free and so he was
able to say huskily, "I did what any lawful government does in an
emergency. I dealt with treason summarily, taking time only to find out
what it consisted of."

Lesbee had had another thought, this time about Miller on the bridge.
Hastily, he swung Browne over in front of him. "Hand me your blaster,"
he said. "Stock first."

He freed the other's arm, so that he could reach into the holster and
take it out.

Lesbee felt a lot better when he had the weapon. But still another idea
had come to him. He said harshly, "I want to lift you over to the
cage, and I don't want First Officer Miller to interfere. Get that,
_Mister_ Miller!"

There was no answer from the screen.

Browne said uneasily, "Why over to the cage?"

Lesbee did not answer right away. Silently he manipulated the tractor
beam control until Browne was in position. Having gotten him there,
Lesbee hesitated. What bothered him was, why had the Karn's thought
impulses ceased? He had an awful feeling that something was very wrong
indeed.

He gulped, and said, "Raise the lid!"

Again, he freed Browne's arm. The big man reached over gingerly,
unfastened the catch, and then drew back and glanced questioningly at
Lesbee.

"Look inside!" Lesbee commanded.

Browne said scathingly, "You don't think for one second that--" He
stopped, for he was peering into the cage. He uttered a cry: "He's
gone!"




                                  VI


Lesbee discussed the disappearance with Browne.

It was an abrupt decision on his part to do so. The question of where
Dzing might have got to was not something he should merely turn over in
his own head.

He began by pointing at the dials from which the immense speed of the
ship could be computed, and then, when that meaning was absorbed by
the older man, said simply, "What happened? Where did he go? And how
could we speed up to just under 186,000 miles a second in so short a
time?"

He had lowered the big man to the floor, and now he took some of the
tension from the tractor beam but did not release the power. Browne
stood in apparent deep thought. Finally, he nodded. "All right," he
said, "I know what happened."

"Tell me."

Browne changed the subject, said in a deliberate tone, "What are you
going to do with me?"

Lesbee stared at him for a moment unbelievingly. "You're going to
withhold this information?" he demanded.

Browne spread his hands. "What else can I do? Till I know my fate, I
have nothing to lose."

Lesbee suppressed a strong impulse to rush over and strike his
prisoner. He said finally, "In your judgment is this delay dangerous?"

Browne was silent, but a bead of sweat trickled down his cheek. "_I_
have nothing to lose," he repeated.

The expression in Lesbee's face must have alarmed him, for he went on
quickly, "Look, there's no need for you to conspire any more. What
you really want is to go home, isn't it? Don't you see, with this new
method of acceleration, we can make it to Earth in a few _months_!"

He stopped. He seemed momentarily uncertain.

Lesbee snapped angrily, "Who are you trying to fool? Months! We're a
dozen light years in actual distance from Earth. You mean years, not
months."

Browne hesitated then: "All right, a few years. But at least not a
lifetime. So if you'll promise not to scheme against me further, I'll
promise--"

"_You'll_ promise!" Lesbee spoke savagely. He had been taken aback
by Browne's instant attempt at blackmail. But the momentary sense of
defeat was gone. He knew with a stubborn rage that he would stand for
no nonsense.

He said in an uncompromising voice, "Mister Browne, twenty seconds
after I stop speaking, you start talking. If you don't, I'll batter you
against these walls. I mean it!"

Browne was pale. "Are you going to kill me? That's all I want to know.
Look--" his tone was urgent--"we don't have to fight any more. We can
go home. Don't you see? The long madness is just about over. Nobody has
to die."

Lesbee hesitated. What the big man said was at least partly true. There
was an attempt here to make twelve years sound like twelve days, or at
most twelve weeks. But the fact was, it _was_ a short period compared
to the century-long journey which, at one time, had been the only
possibility.

       *       *       *       *       *

He thought: "Am I going to kill him?"

It was hard to believe that he would, under the circumstances. All
right. If not death, then what? He sat there uncertain. The vital
seconds went by, and he could see no solution. He thought finally,
in desperation: "I'll have to give in for the moment. Even a minute
thinking about this is absolutely crazy."

He said aloud in utter frustration, "I'll promise you this. If you can
figure out how I can feel safe in a ship commanded by you I'll give
your plan consideration. And now, mister, start talking."

Browne nodded. "I accept that promise," he said. "What we've run into
here is the Lorenz-Fitzgerald Contraction Theory. Only it's not a
theory any more. We're living the reality of it."

Lesbee argued, "But it only took us a few hours to get to the speed of
light."

Browne said, "As we approach light speed, space foreshortens and time
compresses. What seemed like a few hours would be days in normal time
and space."

What Browne explained then was different rather than difficult. Lesbee
had to blink his mind to shut out the glare of his old ideas and habits
of thought, so that the more subtle shades of super-speed phenomena
could shine through into his awareness.

The time compression--as Browne explained it--was gradational. The
rapid initial series of accelerations were obviously designed to
pin down the personnel of the ship. Subsequent increments would be
according to what was necessary to attain the ultra-speed finally
achieved.

Since the drive was still on, it was clear that some resistance was
being encountered, perhaps from the fabric of space itself.

It was no time to discuss technical details. Lesbee accepted the
remarkable reality and said quickly, "Yes, but where is Dzing?"

"My guess," said Browne, "is that he did not come along."

"How do you mean?"

"The space-time foreshortening did not affect him."

"But--" Lesbee began blankly.

"Look," said Browne harshly, "don't ask me how he did it. My picture
is, he stayed in the cage till after the acceleration stopped. Then, in
a leisurely fashion, he released himself from the electrically locked
manacles, climbed out, and went off to some other part of the ship. He
wouldn't have to hurry since by this time he was operating at a rate
of, say, five hundred times faster than our living pace."

Lesbee said, "But that means he's been out there for hours--his time.
What's he been up to?"

Browne admitted that he had no answer for that.

"But you can see," he pointed out anxiously, "that I meant what I said
about going back to Earth. We have no business in this part of space.
These beings are far ahead of us scientifically."

His purpose was obviously to persuade. Lesbee thought: "He's back to
_our_ fight. That's more important to him than any damage the real
enemy is causing."

A vague recollection came of the things he had read about the struggle
for power throughout Earth history. How men intrigued for supremacy
while vast hordes of the invader battered down the gates. Browne was a
true spiritual descendant of all those mad people.

Slowly, Lesbee turned and faced the big board. What was baffling to him
was, what could you do against a being who moved five hundred times as
fast as you did?




                                  VII


He had a sudden sense of awe, a picture.... At any given instant Dzing
was a blur. A spot of light. A movement so rapid that, even as the gaze
lighted on him, he was gone to the other end of the ship--and back.

Yet Lesbee knew it took time to traverse the great ship from end to
end. Twenty, even twenty-five minutes, was normal walking time for a
human being going along the corridor known as Center A.

It would take the Karn a full six seconds there and back. In its way
that was a significant span of time, but after Lesbee had considered it
for a moment he felt appalled.

What could they do against a creature who had so great a time
differential in his favor?

From behind him, Browne said, "Why don't you use against him that
remote landing control system that you set up with my permission?"

Lesbee confessed: "I did that, as soon as the acceleration ceased. But
he must have been--back--in the faster time by then."

"That wouldn't make any difference," said Browne.

"Eh!" Lesbee was startled.

Browne parted his lips evidently intending to explain, and then he
closed them again. Finally he said, "Make sure the intercom is off."

Lesbee did so. But he was realizing that Browne was up to something
again. He said, and there was rage in his tone, "I don't get it, and
you do. Is that right."

"Yes," said Browne. He spoke deliberately, but he was visibly
suppressing excitement. "I know how to defeat this creature. That puts
me in a bargaining position."

Lesbee's eyes were narrowed to slits. "Damn you, no bargain. Tell me,
or else!"

Browne said, "I'm not really trying to be difficult. You either have to
kill me, or come to some agreement. I want to know what that agreement
is, because of course I'll do it."

Lesbee said, "I think we ought to have an election."

"I agree!" Browne spoke instantly. "You set it up." He broke off.
"And now release me from these tractors and I'll show you the neatest
space-time trick you've ever seen, and that'll be the end of Dzing."

Lesbee gazed at the man's face, saw there the same openness of
countenance, the same frank honest that had preceded the execution
order, and he thought, "What can he do?"

He considered many possibilities, and thought finally, desperately:
"He's got the advantage over me of superior knowledge--the most
undefeatable weapon in the world. The only thing I can really hope to
use against it in the final issue is _my_ knowledge of a multitude of
technician-level details."

But--what could Browne do against Lesbee?

He said unhappily to the other, "Before I free you, I want to lift you
over to Mindel. When I do, you get his blaster for me."

"Sure," said Browne casually.

A few moments later he handed Mindel's gun over to Lesbee. So that
wasn't it.

Lesbee thought: "There's Miller on the bridge--can it be that Miller
flashed him a ready signal when my back was turned to the board?"

Perhaps, like Browne, Miller had been temporarily incapacitated during
the period of acceleration. It was vital that he find out Miller's
present capability.

       *       *       *       *       *

Lesbee tripped the intercom between the two boards. The rugged, lined
face of the first officer showed large on the screen. Lesbee could
see the outlines of the bridge behind the man and, beyond, the starry
blackness of space. Lesbee said courteously, "Mr. Miller, how did you
make out during the acceleration?"

"It caught me by surprise, Captain. I really got a battering. I think I
was out for a while. But I'm all right now."

"Good," said Lesbee. "As you probably heard, Captain Browne and I have
come to an agreement, and we are now going to destroy the creature that
is loose on the ship. Stand by!"

Cynically, he broke the connection.

Miller was there all right, waiting. But the question was still, what
could Miller do? The answer of course was that Miller could pre-empt.
And--Lesbee asked himself--what could _that_ do?

Abruptly, it seemed to him, he had the answer.

It was the technician's answer that he had been mentally straining for.

He now understood Browne's plan. They were waiting for Lesbee to let
down his guard for a moment. Then Miller would pre-empt, cut off the
tractor beam from Browne and seize Lesbee with it.

For the two officers it was vital that Lesbee not have time to fire the
blaster at Browne. Lesbee thought: "It's the only thing they can be
worried about. The truth is, there's nothing else to stop them."

The solution was, Lesbee realized with a savage glee, to let the two
men achieve their desire. But first--

"Mr. Browne," he said quietly, "I think you should give your
information. If I agree that it is indeed the correct solution, I shall
release you and we shall have an election. You and I will stay right
here till the election is over."

Browne said, "I accept your promise. The speed of light is a constant,
and does not change in relation to moving objects. That would also
apply to electromagnetic fields."

Lesbee said, "Then Dzing was affected by the remote-control device I
turned on."

"Instantly," said Browne. "He never got a chance to do anything. How
much power did you use?"

"Only first stage," said Lesbee. "But the machine-driven thought pulses
in that would interfere with just about every magnetic field in his
body. He couldn't do another coherent thing."

Browne said in a hushed tone, "It's got to be. He'll be out of control
in one of the corridors, completely at our mercy." He grinned. "I
told you I knew how to defeat him--because, of course, he was already
defeated."

Lesbee considered that for a long moment, eyes narrowed. He realized
that he accepted the explanation, but that he had preparations to make,
and quickly--before Browne got suspicious of his delay.

He turned to the board and switched on the intercom. "People," he said,
"strap yourselves in again. Help those who were injured to do the same.
We may have another emergency. You have several minutes, I think, but
don't waste any of them."

He cut off the intercom, and he activated the closed-circuit intercom
of the technical stations. He said urgently, "Special instruction to
Technical personnel. Report anything unusual, particularly if strange
thought forms are going through your mind."

He had an answer to that within moments after he finished speaking.
A man's twangy voice came over: "I keep thinking I'm somebody named
Dzing, and I'm trying to report to my owners. Boy, am I incoherent!"

"Where is this?"

"D--4--19."

Lesbee punched the buttons that gave them a TV view of that particular
ship location. Almost immediately he spotted a shimmer near the floor.

After a moment's survey he ordered a heavy-duty mobile blaster brought
to the corridor. By the time its colossal energies ceased, Dzing was
only a darkened area on the flat surface.

       *       *       *       *       *

While these events were progressing, Lesbee had kept one eye on Browne
and Mindel's blaster firmly gripped in his left hand. Now he said,
"Well, sir, you certainly did what you promised. Wait a moment while I
put this gun away, and then I'll carry out my part of the bargain."

He started to do so, then, out of pity, paused.

He had been thinking in the back of his mind about what Browne had
said earlier: that the trip to Earth might only take a few months. The
officer had backed away from that statement, but it had been bothering
Lesbee ever since.

If it were true, then it was indeed a fact that nobody need die!

He said quickly, "What was your reason for saying that the journey home
would only take--well--less than a year?"

"It's the tremendous time compression," Browne explained eagerly. "The
distance as you pointed out is over 12 light-years. But with a time
ratio of 3, 4, or 500 to one, we'll make it in less than a month.
When I first started to say that, I could see that the figures were
incomprehensible to you in your tense mood. In fact, I could scarcely
believe them myself."

Lesbee said, staggered, "We can get back to Earth in a couple of
weeks--my God!" He broke off, said urgently, "Look, I accept you as
commander. We don't need an election. The status quo is good enough for
any short period of time. Do you agree?"

"Of course," said Browne. "That's the point I've been trying to make."

As he spoke, his face was utterly guileless.

Lesbee gazed at that mask of innocence, and he thought hopelessly:
"What's wrong? Why isn't he really agreeing? Is it because he doesn't
want to lose his command so quickly?"

Sitting there, unhappily fighting for the other's life, he tried to
place himself mentally in the position of the commander of a vessel,
tried to look at the prospect of a return to view. It was hard to
picture such a reality. But presently it seemed to him that he
understood.

He said gently, feeling his way, "It would be kind of a shame to return
without having made a successful landing anywhere. With this new speed,
we could visit a dozen sun systems, and still get home in a year."

The look that came into Browne's face for a fleeting moment told Lesbee
that he had penetrated to the thought in the man's mind.

The next instant, Browne was shaking his head vigorously. "This is no
time for side excursions," he said. "We'll leave explorations of new
star systems to future expeditions. The people of this ship have served
their term. We go straight home."

Browne's face was now completely relaxed. His blue eyes shone with
truth and sincerity.

There was nothing further that Lesbee could say. The gulf between
Browne and himself could not be bridged.

The commander had to kill his rival, so that he might finally return to
Earth and report that the mission of the _Hope of Man_ was accomplished.




                                 VIII


In the most deliberate fashion Lesbee shoved the blaster into the
inner pocket of his coat. Then, as if he were being careful, he
used the tractor beam to push Browne about four feet away. There
he set him down, released him from the beam, and--with the same
deliberateness--drew his hand away from the tractor controls. Thus he
made himself completely defenseless.

It was the moment of vulnerability.

Browne leaped at him, yelling: "Miller--pre-empt!"

First Officer Miller obeyed the command of his captain.

What happened then, only Lesbee, the technician with a thousand bits of
detailed knowledge, expected.

For years it had been observed that when Control Room Below took over
from Bridge, the ship speeded up slightly. And when Bridge took
over from Control Room Below, the ship slowed instantly by the same
amount--in each instance, something less than half a mile an hour.

The two boards were not completely synchronized. The technicians
often joked about it, and Lesbee had once read an obscure technical
explanation for the discrepancy. It had to do with the impossibility
of ever getting two metals refined to the same precision of internal
structure.

It was the age-old story of no two objects in the universe are
alike. But in times past, the differential had meant nothing. It
was a technical curiosity, an interesting phenomenon of the science
of metallurgy, a practical problem that caused machinists to curse
good-naturedly when technicians like Lesbee required them to make a
replacement part.

Unfortunately for Browne, the ship was now traveling near the speed of
light.

His strong hands, reaching towards Lesbee's slighter body, were
actually touching the latter's arm when the momentary deceleration
occurred as Bridge took over. The sudden slow-down was at a much faster
rate than even Lesbee expected. The resistance of space to the forward
movement of the ship must be using up more engine power than he had
realized; it was taking a lot of thrust to maintain a one gravity
acceleration.

The great vessel slowed about 150 miles per hour in the space of a
second.

Lesbee took the blow of that deceleration partly against his back,
partly against one side--for he had half-turned to defend himself from
the bigger man's attack.

Browne, who had nothing to grab on to, was flung forward at the full
150 miles per hour. He struck the control board with an audible thud,
stuck to it as if he were glued there; and then, when the adjustment
was over--when the _Hope of Man_ was again speeding along at one
gravity--his body slid down the face of the board, and crumpled into a
twisted position on the rubberized dais.

His uniform was discolored. As Lesbee watched, blood seeped through and
dripped to the floor.

       *       *       *       *       *

"Are you going to hold an election?" Tellier asked.

The big ship had turned back under Lesbee's command, and had picked up
his friends. The lifeboat itself, with the remaining Karn still aboard,
was put into an orbit around Alta III and abandoned.

The two young men were sitting now in the Captain's cabin.

After the question was asked, Lesbee leaned back in his chair, and
closed his eyes. He didn't need to examine his total resistance to the
suggestion. He had already savored the feeling that command brought.

Almost from the moment of Browne's death, he had observed himself
having the same thoughts that Browne had voiced--among many others, the
reasons why elections were not advisable aboard a spaceship. He waited
now while Eleesa, one of his three wives--she being the younger of the
two young widows of Browne--poured wine for them, and went softly out.
Then he laughed grimly.

"My good friend," he said, "we're all lucky that time is so compressed
at the speed of light. At 500-times compression, any further
exploration we do will require only a few months, or years at most.
And so I don't think we can afford to take the chance of defeating at
an election the only person who understands the details of the new
acceleration method. Until I decide exactly how much exploration we
shall do, I shall keep our speed capabilities a secret. But I did, and
do, think one other person should know where I have this information
documented. Naturally, I selected First Officer Tellier."

"Thank you, sir," the youth said. But he was visibly thoughtful as he
sipped his wine. He went on finally, "Captain, I think you'd feel a lot
better if you held an election. I'm sure you could win it."

Lesbee laughed tolerantly, shook his head. "I'm afraid you don't
understand the dynamics of government," he said. "There's no record in
history of a person who actually had control, handing it over."

He finished with the casual confidence of absolute power. "I'm not
going to be presumptuous enough to fight a precedent like that!"


                                THE END