Death Wish
Robert Sheckley
Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
Death Wish
By NED LANG
Illustrated by WEISS
Compared with a spaceship in distress, going to hell in a handbasket is roomy and slow!
The space freighter _Queen Dierdre_ was a great, squat, pockmarkedvessel of the Earth-Mars run and she never gave anyone a bit of trouble.That should have been sufficient warning to Mr. Watkins, her engineer.Watkins was fond of saying that there are two kinds of equipment--thekind that fails bit by bit, and the kind that fails all at once.
Watkins was short and red-faced, magnificently mustached, and always alittle out of breath. With a cigar in his hand, over a glass of beer, hetalked most cynically about his ship, in the immemorial fashion ofengineers. But in reality, Watkins was foolishly infatuated with_Dierdre_, idealized her, humanized her, and couldn't conceive ofanything serious ever happening.
On this particular run, _Dierdre_ soared away from Terra at the properspeed; Mr. Watkins signaled that fuel was being consumed at the properrate; and Captain Somers cut the engines at the proper moment indicatedby Mr. Rajcik, the navigator.
As soon as Point Able had been reached and the engines stopped, Somersfrowned and studied his complex control board. He was a thin andmeticulous man, and he operated his ship with mechanical perfection. Hewas well liked in the front offices of Mikkelsen Space Lines, where OldMan Mikkelsen pointed to Captain Somers' reports as models of neatnessand efficiency. On Mars, he stayed at the Officers' Club, eschewing thestews and dives of Marsport. On Earth, he lived in a little Vermontcottage and enjoyed the quiet companionship of two cats, a Japanesehouseboy, and a wife.
* * * * *
His instructions read true. And yet he sensed something wrong. Somersknew every creak, rattle and groan that _Dierdre_ was capable of making.During blastoff, he had heard something _different_. In space, somethingdifferent had to be wrong.
"Mr. Rajcik," he said, turning to his navigator, "would you check thecargo? I believe something may have shifted."
"You bet," Rajcik said cheerfully. He was an almost offensively handsomeyoung man with black wavy hair, blase blue eyes and a cleft chin.Despite his appearance, Rajcik was thoroughly qualified for hisposition. But he was only one of fifty thousand thoroughly qualified menwho lusted for a berth on one of the fourteen spaceships in existence.Only Stephen Rajcik had had the foresight, appearance and fortitude tocourt and wed Helga, Old Man Mikkelsen's eldest daughter.
Rajcik went aft to the cargo hold. _Dierdre_ was carrying transistorsthis time, and microfilm books, platinum filaments, salamis, and otheritems that could not as yet be produced on Mars. But the bulk of herspace was taken by the immense Fahrensen Computer.
Rajcik checked the positioning lines on the monster, examined the staysand turnbuckles that held it in place, and returned to the cabin.
"All in order, Boss," he reported to Captain Somers, with the smile thatonly an employer's son-in-law can both manage and afford.
"Mr. Watkins, do you read anything?"
Watkins was at his own instrument panel. "Not a thing, sir. I'll vouchfor every bit of equipment in _Dierdre_."
"Very well. How long before we reach Point Baker?"
"Three minutes, Chief," Rajcik said.
"Good."
The spaceship hung in the void, all sensation of speed lost for lack ofa reference point. Beyond the portholes was darkness, the true color ofthe Universe, perforated by the brilliant lost points of the stars.
Captain Somers turned away from the disturbing reminder of his extremefinitude and wondered if he could land _Dierdre_ without shifting thecomputer. It was by far the largest, heaviest and most delicate piece ofequipment ever transported in space.
He worried about that machine. Its value ran into the billions ofdollars, for Mars Colony had ordered the best possible, a machine whoseutility would offset the immense transportation charge across space. Asa result, the Fahrensen Computer was perhaps the most complex andadvanced machine ever built by Man.
"Ten seconds to Point Baker," Rajcik announced.
"Very well." Somers readied himself at the control board.
"Four--three--two--one--fire!"
* * * * *
Somers activated the engines. Acceleration pressed the three men backinto their couches, and more acceleration, and--shockingly--still moreacceleration.
"The fuel!" Watkins yelped, watching his indicators spinning.
"The course!" Rajcik gasped, fighting for breath.
Captain Somers cut the engine switch. The engines continued firing,pressing the men deeper into their couches. The cabin lights flickered,went out, came on again.
And still the acceleration mounted and _Dierdre's_ engines howled inagony, thrusting the ship forward. Somers raised one leaden hand andinched it toward the emergency cut-off switch. With a fantasticexpenditure of energy, he reached the switch, depressed it.
The engines stopped with dramatic suddenness, while tortured metalcreaked and groaned. The lights flickered rapidly, as though _Dierdre_were blinking in pain. They steadied and then there was silence.
Watkins hurried to the engine room. He returned morosely.
"Of all the damn things," he muttered.
"What was it?" Captain Somers asked.
"Main firing circuit. It fused on us." He shook his head. "Metalfatigue, I'd say. It must have been flawed for years."
"When was it last checked out?"
"Well, it's a sealed unit. Supposed to outlast the ship. Absolutelyfoolproof, unless--"
"Unless it's flawed."
"Don't blame it on me! Those circuits are supposed to be X-rayed,heat-treated, fluoroscoped--you just can't trust machinery!"
At last Watkins believed that engineering axiom.
"How are we on fuel?" Captain Somers asked.
"Not enough left to push a kiddy car down Main Street," Watkins saidgloomily. "If I could get my hands on that factory inspector ..."
Captain Somers turned to Rajcik, who was seated at the navigator's desk,hunched over his charts. "How does this affect our course?"
Rajcik finished the computation he was working on and gnawedthoughtfully at his pencil.
"It kills us. We're going to cross the orbit of Mars before Mars getsthere."
"How long before?"
"Too long. Captain, we're flying out of the Solar System like theproverbial bat out of hell."
* * * * *
Rajcik smiled, a courageous, devil-may-care smile which Watkins foundsingularly inappropriate.
"Damn it, man," he roared, "don't just leave it there. We've got alittle fuel left. We can turn her, can't we? You _are_ a navigator,aren't you?"
"I am," Rajcik said icily. "And if I computed my courses the way youmaintain your engines, we'd be plowing through Australia now."
"Why, you little company toady! At least I got my job legitimately, notby marrying--"
"That's enough!" Captain Somers cut in.
Watkins, his face a mottled red, his mustache bristling, looked like awalrus about to charge. And Rajcik, eyes glittering, was waitinghopefully.
"No more of this," Somers said. "I give the orders here."
"Then give some!" Watkins snapped. "Tell him to plot a return curve.This is life or death!"
"All the more reason for remaining cool. Mr. Rajcik, can you plot such acourse?"
"First thing I tried," Rajcik said. "Not a chance, on the fuel we haveleft. We can turn a degree or two, but it won't help."
Watkins said, "Of course it will! We'll curve back into the SolarSystem!"
"Sure, but the best curve we can make will take a few
thousand years forus to complete."
"Perhaps a landfall on some other planet--Neptune, Uranus--"
Rajcik shook his head. "Even if an outer planet were in the right placeat the right time, we'd need fuel--a lot of fuel--to get into a brakingorbit. And if we could, who'd come get us? No ship has gone past Marsyet."
"At least we'd have a chance," Watkins said.
"Maybe," Rajcik agreed indifferently. "But we can't swing it. I'm afraidyou'll have to kiss the Solar System good-by."
Captain Somers wiped his forehead and tried to think of a plan. Hefound it difficult to concentrate. There was too great a discrepancybetween his knowledge of the situation and its appearance.
