Bull and Skip disagreed about the merits
of the Cerebus III as a space ship. But a ship's
mettle—like a man's—is proved in an emergency!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
November 1954
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The Inner Planet Fleet's spacegoing salvage vessel Cerebus III leapedsidewise as though she was trying desperately to escape from somemythical monster of the spaceways. Inside the instrument filled controlroom the tiny group of ship's officers, gathered together by CaptainStevens' urgent order, felt their feet leave the deck. They reachedwildly for any hold available, the lucky ones clinging desperately withstrained muscles, the others jumbled in awkward cursing heaps againstthe bulkheads.
"You idiot!" Captain Stevens shouted. "Next time give us warning!"
The lateral tubes pilot grinned wryly but didn't lift his eyes from thescanner before him. "Sorry, Sir. There was no time. When one of thosecalcium faculae come boiling up at you like a cannonball, you pick anew spot in the chromosphere for the ship and get there quick—or youdon't arrive at all."
Bull Wright, one of the two men who had been strong enough to keep hishold, slowly untwined his huge fingers from a projection and flexedthem. He looked across the room and grinned down at the floor whereSkip Allen was struggling to his feet. "How do you like good old Solfrom that angle?" he drawled sarcastically. "Different from readingabout it in a textbook, isn't it?"
The slim built Ensign quickly came to his feet and automaticallyadjusted the cap on his red head. "Mr. Experience talking, eh? I wonderwhy Headquarters hasn't discovered that Ensign Wright sees all, knowsall, and blabs all?"
"Lay off it, you two," Captain Stevens ordered. "We've got a realproblem this time." He paused dramatically, waving a sheet ofspacegram paper in the air. "We've been ordered to find the Regis andremove her crew and passengers."
"Why that's Fleet Command's new sun cruiser," Skip gasped. "What'shappened to her?"
"Headquarters doesn't know exactly," Stevens replied. "They got partof a message saying her propulsion power controls were jammed and heranti-grav and anti-heat equipment was slowly losing effectiveness. Theygive her about four hours before she's falling too fast to contact; andabout the same time before she gets too hot to maintain life.
"A laminated layer of charged particles must have whipped across hersending beam about then because her message became garbled and finallyfaded out."
"Rescue," growled Bull. "That's not our kind of job. We're notoutfitted for it. If that bunch of stuffed shirts didn't know enough tonavigate through the corona and into the chromosphere, they deserve todie. Why should we risk our necks to save them?"
"We're the only ship near enough to stand a chance of reaching themduring the next couple hours. But that's not all. Alistar of Cygnus ison board."
"Alistar of Cygnus?" one of the officers questioned. "Who the hell ishe?"
"An inspector from Intergalactic Federation Headquarters. Remember thatcontainer of electron stripped nuclei found in Federation HeadquartersBuilding last month?"
The men all nodded.
"The Federation figures it came from one of our nuclei dredges inone of Sol's spots. With all the other crazy things that have beenhappening lately to throw suspicion our way, our system stands indanger of being ejected from the Federation unless we can clearourselves. You know what that woul