SPACE-CAN
By MURRAY LEINSTER
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Thrilling Wonder Stories June 1948.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
When the Winship landed on Ganymede, it was on one of thoseerrands that are handed over to destroyer-skippers, commanding thetin-cans of the space-fleet, because nobody with silver braid wantsto do them. Lieutenant Joe Peabody had been officially directed toproceed to Ganymede, land in 10° north latitude and 10° west of thezero longitude echo-beacon, and contact a Ganymedian chief called Yloop.
He was to deliver to that Ganymedian chief one swamp-car, assure himthat Earth Government was very happy to give him the present he hadrequested, and then make what efforts seemed wise to promote cordialrelations. Then he was to return to base.
It was just the sort of job that anybody with silver braid would wishoff on somebody of lower rank. The Winship carried two officers,ten men, and one dog. The dog was Rickey, the official mascot of theship and an animal of some reputation. He'd had more and taller talestold about him by the crew than less imaginative men could invent fortheir ship's mascots.
Such as the story that when the Winship was based on Luna, everytime she came back to port there were seven girl-dogs and a Venusianvroom-cat waiting at the space-yard gate when Rickey sauntered out onhis first liberty.
The Winship's armament consisted of meteor-repellers,pressure-fused signal-flares, and a pop-gun of no conceivable use outof atmosphere. In combat—if war did come with Mars—her function wouldbe to scout ahead of the Earth battlefleet and try to get off a warningof contact before she was smashed by a guided missile. In peacetime,she ran errands not desired by anybody else and acted as one of theguinea-pigs for the technical brass.
At the moment she was still choked up inside with the three-footlead-cadmium sheathing—put on in three-inch plates—applied to herfuel tanks when she was sent on a long and purposeless cruise to testthe efficiency of pre-bombarded and therefore radioactive fuel. Thefuel wasn't efficient at all. Dick Harkness, her second in command,still swore at that sheathing regularly.
He swore again as the little ship settled down through the mistyGanymedian atmosphere. The ground below, as seen through thesnooperscope, was utterly featureless save for some hundredsof thousands of identical clumps of gannygrass. That wasGanymede—gannygrass and swamp.
"Remember the recruiting posters we saw, last time on Earth?" growledDick Harkness to Joe. "'Deep Space is calling you! Ride a Comet and seethe Worlds!' There oughta be a law! Look below! Who wants to see this?"
Joe Peabody watched his instruments, scratching Rickey's head absently.He'd picked out a patch of gannygrass to land on, and the snakeyecorrected course if the little ship swerved by a hairsbreadth. But hewatched, anyway.
"Things could be worse," he said. "They've got to recruit spacemensomehow. If glamor-posters make 'em join up, why not?"
"Glamor!" said Dick. "Look below! They ought to put a Ganymedian on therecruiting board. He'd fix those posters! 'Be a Destroyer Spaceman!Spend your time running errands! Visit Ganymede and See the Swamps!Learn to Salute!' That's the way a Ganymedian would make the postersread!"
The Winship swung ever so slightly and settled toward the chosengrass patch. Joe nodded in satisfaction. Dick Harkness grumbled again.
"Look at the doggone place! Venus is bad enough, with an aerosol for anatmospher