Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction April 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
Accidental Flight
By F. L. WALLACE
Illustrated by Ed Alexander
Outcasts of a society of physically perfect people, theycouldn't stay and they couldn't go home again—yet there hadto be some escape for them. Oddly enough, there was!
ameron frowned intently at the top of the desk. It was difficult toconcentrate under the circumstances. "Your request was turned over tothe Medicouncil," he said. "After studying it, they reported back tothe Solar Committee."
Docchi edged forward, his face literally lighting up.
Dr. Cameron kept his eyes averted; the man was damnably disconcerting."You know what the answer is. A flat no, for the present."
Docchi leaned back. "We should have expected that," he said wearily.
"It's not entirely hopeless. Decisions like this can always bechanged."
"Sure," said Docchi. "We've got centuries." His face wasflushed—blazing would be a better description.
Absently, Cameron lowered the lights in the room as much as he could.It was still uncomfortably bright. Docchi was a nuisance.
"But why?" asked Docchi. "You know that we're capable. Why did theyrefuse?"
Cameron had tried to avoid that question. Now it had to be answeredwith blunt brutality. "Did you think you would be chosen? Or Nona, orJordan, or Anti?"
Docchi winced. "Maybe not. But we've told you that we're willing toabide by what the experts say. Surely from a thousand of us they canselect one qualified crew."
"Perhaps so," said Cameron. He switched on the lights and resumedstaring at the top of the desk. "Most of you are biocompensators.Ninety per cent, I believe. I concede that we ought to be able to gettogether a competent crew." He sighed. "But you're wasting your timediscussing this with me. I'm not responsible for the decision. I can'tdo anything about it."
Docchi stood up. His face was colorless and bright.
Dr. Cameron looked at him directly for the first time. "I suggest youcalm down. Be patient and wait; you may get your chance."
"You wait," said Docchi. "We don't intend to."
The door opened for him and closed behind him.
Cameron concentrated on the desk. Actually he was trying to lookthrough it. He wrote down the card sequence he expected to find. Heopened a drawer and gazed at the contents, then grimaced indisappointment. No matter how many times he tried, he never got betterthan strictly average results. Maybe there was something to telepathy,but he hadn't found it yet.
He dismissed it from his mind. It was a private game, a method ofavoiding involvement while Docchi was present. But Docchi was gonenow, and he had better come up with some answers. The right ones.
He switched on the telecom. "Get me Medicouncilor Thorton," he toldthe robot operator. "Direct, if you can; indirect if you have to. I'llwait."
With an approximate me