The Upside-Down Captain
By JIM HARMON
He knew the captain would be a monster.
He knew the crew would be rough. He knew
all about space travel—except the truth!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, March 1960.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
I
"Excuse me, please," Ben Starbuck said, tapping the junior officer onthe epaulet.
"Get away from me, scum," the lieutenant said conversationally, hiseyes on the clipboard in his hands.
Starbuck rocked back on his heels and set his spacebag down onthe loading platform. He angled his head up at the spire of theinter-atmosphere ship, the Gorgon. This was only a sample of what hecould expect once he canted into that hull. It would be rough. But hehad made up his mind to take it.
All tight little groups, like the crew of a spaceship, always resentedthe intrusion of a newcomer. The initiations sometimes made it a testto see whether a man would live over them, and the probation period,the time of discipline and deference to old members of the group couldbe a memorably nasty experience. He didn't have direct knowledge ofsuch customs in the rather shadowy, enigmatic Space Service, but it wasbasic sociology.
Starbuck knew he would have an even rougher time of it since he wasn'ta spaceman—not even a cadet, properly. He was only a fledglingethnologist on his field trip to gather material for his Master'sthesis. The university and the government had arranged for his berth onthe Gorgon.
An exploration ship, he thought acidly. That meant he might come backin a few months, or ten years, or never. All because he had the badluck to be born in a cultural cycle that demanded hard standards ofeducation from professional men. Thirty years before or after, he couldhave cribbed all the information he needed out of a book.
He stood with his hands clasped behind him, waiting for the lieutenantor somebody to deign to notice him. Somebody would have to pay someattention to him sooner or later.
Or would they?
Wouldn't it be just like the old timers to let him stand around andlet the ship take off without him, all because he hadn't followedthe proper procedure—a procedure he couldn't know? All he had beeninstructed to do was "report to the Gorgon." How do you report to aspaceship? Say, "Hello, spaceship?" Speak to the captain? The firstmate? And where did he find them?
Starbuck felt a moment of panic. He could see himself standing on theplatform while the Gorgon blasted off, carrying with it his Swabber'srating, his Master's degree and his future.
The lieutenant's back, in uniform black, loomed up before him. He wouldhave to try approaching him again. It might mean solitary confinementfor a month or two where no member of the crew would speak to him. Itmight even mean a flogging. Nobody knew much about what went on onboard an exploration ship, despite all the stories. But Starbuck knewhe would have to risk it.
He marched up behind the officer. "Sir," he said. "I'm the new man."
The lieutenant whirled. "The new man!"
For the first time, Starbuck noticed that the junior officer carrieda swagger stick under his left arm, black, about a foot and a halflong, tipped with silver at both ends. Quite possibly it was standardprocedure to rap a man with it three times sharply across the mouth forspeaking out of turn, duri