The adventure of a man who sat
alone in space for six years!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Comet December 40.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Ferris was in the tiny cupola, admiring the immense sphere of Earthabove him, when the bell sounded. Galsworth again, no doubt. It hadbeen Galsworth every time for twenty-four hours. What did he want now?
Ferris went below, preparing himself for the same ugly face, the usualgrating voice. He sat before the screens and snapped a switch. Thescreen colored, took form. He was right.
Galsworth said: "Fuel Station 12?" As if he didn't know. When Ferrisnodded, the company head announced: "Replacement will be in effectwithin ten hours. You'll prepare for the trip."
"Replacement!" Ferris gasped. "For what reason—"
"You'll have the details when you reach Earth, Ferris. Be ready whenBrooks arrives. He'll be there shortly."
"Brooks! Who's he? The kid?"
"You're asking too many questions, Ferris. Brooks is young, yes, buthe'll fill the position. We'll explain later. That's all."
It took a few minutes for Ferris to recover. Replacement! After sixyears of service at the number one fuel station between the Earthand Moon. Why, he was the only man who could handle Station 12! AndGalsworth was sending Brooks, a green kid barely out of SM school. Whatwas the guy thinking of?
Angered, Ferris got up from his stool and paced the floor. It was easyto picture Galsworth sitting at his desk. He'd be chewing a big cigar,pounding a pudgy fist into his palm, telling young Brooks that Station12 needed a stalwart lad willing to face numerous cosmic dangers inorder that commerce between the Earth and Moon would not fall below itspresent status. Only Galsworth would say it like that.
Well, what was wrong with the present status? Ferris had kept thecompany heads above water; he hadn't fallen down on the job. But theyapparently weren't satisfied. Something was wrong, and it seemed thatGalsworth was taking it out on Ferris.
Still perplexed, Ferris entered his living quarters and began packing.He dismissed Galsworth from his mind, wondered whether or not Brookscould meet the task of operating the station. It was a lonely job,sitting there in the cylindrical island of space, watching shipsapproach and pass in the cold void that housed him. Brooks would growweary of it, just as Ferris had at first. There wasn't a more dismalexistence in the solar system, but to Ferris it was home, and even thethought of that was comforting.
The sound of a hissing airlock brought Ferris to his senses. Brooks wasahead of schedule—
Ferris went back to the control room. A tall fellow stood there, hishair drooping, his space tunic ripped open at the collar. His face wasstone-like.
"You aren't Brooks," said Ferris. "What do you want?"
"Fuel," the other dropped a hand to a belt holster. "I need fuel formy ship—a lot of it. And you're the only fellow in my path who's gotit. Let's not waste time."
"You've come to the wrong place," said Ferris, starting forward. "Thebarrels here are under government combination seal, and can't be openedby anyone other than the inspectors who accompany our regular ships."
"Nevertheless," the tall fellow drew his beam gun, "you have fuel inyour repulsion tanks, and that's as good as any."
For a moment Ferris stood there, undetermined. Then he remembered apolice bulletin not so long ago. A convict had escaped from one ofEarth's interplanetary prisons. He understood now.
"You're Siegal," he said.
The