Three Survived

Chapter 4

The lifeship wasn’t very much more than a bubble of metal and plastic with a spacedrive attached. It could hold three men comfortably, or four men uncomfortably, and that was all.

Rand made sure the lifeship was in working order by asking the computer to run a quick checkout.

“All systems go,” the computer replied.

“Right.” Rand pointed a finger at Leswick. “Get inside and strap yourself in.”

Leswick started to enter. Suddenly Rand noticed that the little philosopher was carrying a huge book. He must have picked it up from his cabin on the way to the lifeship.

“Hold it, Leswick. What’s that book?”

“Something to pass the time while I’m waiting to be rescued,” he said. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Rand took the book from him and looked it over. His mouth turned down in scorn. The title was, An Application of Matrix Field Theory to the Cultural Units of Eastern New Guinea. That didn’t tell him a whole lot. He flipped through it and saw that it was the usual Metaphysical Synthesist sort of stuff. A batch of fancy mathematics and long words, adding up to nothing that anybody in his right mind could find useful.

“We’ll leave the book behind,” Rand said.

“No!” Leswick protested. “What right have you—”

“The lifeship’s small and crowded. This book is heavy. It’s just dead weight. We can’t afford to drag it along.”

Leswick grabbed at it. “You can’t just toss it away like that! I need that book! It’s important to my work!”

“Aw, let him have it, boss,” Dombey boomed. “It don’t take up that much space.”

Rand realized that he was being too hard on Leswick. Maybe the book was silly nonsense, Maybe Metaphysical Synthesis itself was silly nonsense. But this was no time to set himself up as the judge of that. He was letting his prejudices get a little too much control over him.

“Okay,” Rand said. “Here.”

He flipped the book back to Leswick, who caught it clumsily in the pit of his stomach. Leswick tucked the big book under his arm. He swung open the airlock hatch and stepped into the lifeship.

From somewhere deep in the mother ship came the rumblings of a far-off explosion. The computer’s voice said, “The fire has reached the fuel storage chambers. Best procedure for survivors is to abandon ship at once.”

“You bet,” Rand said. “We don’t need a computer to help us figure that one out!”

Dombey climbed in after Leswick, and Rand followed him. He yanked down the handle that sealed the lifeship’s airlock. Then Rand strapped himself down on the chair in front of the control panel. The other two men climbed into acceleration couches just behind him.

The voice of the computer said, “To achieve exit from the mother ship, press the red knob on the keyboard before you.”

Rand looked at the knob. He didn’t need the computer’s help for that one, either. The knob was plainly marked as the blastoff control. The hard part of the job would come later—when they were on their own, traveling through space.

He wouldn’t have any computer to give him advice then. The computer would still be aboard the Clyde F. Bohmer. Maybe it could direct him by radio for a little while, but not for long. The Clyde F. Bohmer was going to blow up any minute.

Rand suddenly began to sweat. Fear sent cold trickles of perspiration down his sides. Sweat pasted his close-cut hair together into little spikes. For the first time since the trouble began, he was really worried.

Three lives—including his own—lay in his hands.

And he had never piloted any sort of spaceship before.

“We’d better take off, shouldn’t we?” Leswick said nervously. “I mean, the ship is in danger of exploding. Why are we staying here? Is there any problem?”

“Yeah, boss, you having trouble?” Dombey asked.

“None at all,” Rand forced himself to say. “Everything’s okay. I’ve got matters well under control.”

And to his surprise he realized he was speaking the truth. Channels of his mind that he had thought were long closed by rust suddenly opened brightly.

He had never piloted a spaceship, that was true enough. But he had basic knowledge, a grasp of theory. He knew how a spaceship worked, and why. And he knew more than enough math to compute a sort of orbit to the nearest planet.

Maybe it wouldn’t be the kind of slick job a real space pilot would do. But the orbit he worked out would get them where they wanted to go. So things were well under control …

He hoped.

With fingers that were calm and steady, Rand reached up and pressed the knob that would shoot the lifeship out of the dying Clyde F. Bohmer.

The knob passed a signal along to the catapults mounted in the walls around the lifeship. The catapults pushed the lifeship forward. At the same time a big hatch slid open in the outer skin of the mother ship.

The lifeship shot forth into space.

Automatically the computer turned the lifeship’s engines on. A surge of power sent the little vessel streaking out into the darkness of space.

“We’re on our way,” Rand said.

He didn’t feel much of a thrill. He had hoped to be piloting Professor David Loder to safety, along with the cargo of precious drugs. But Loder was dead and the drugs were ruined. Out of all that had been aboard the spaceship, he was saving only himself and two others. None of us really matters at all, Rand thought. I’m just an engineer—we’re a dime a dozen. And Leswick is a worthless little cockeyed philosopher. And Dombey’s a moron of a jetmonkey who probably can’t even read or write. What a cargo! Just a load of dead weight!

“You know where we’re going, huh?” Dombey asked.

“Sure thing,” said Rand.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead. It was running down into his eyes and bothering him.

The lifeship was still in radio contact with the mother ship’s computer. Rand said, “How many planets are within range of this lifeship?”

The computer answered, “Three. They belong to the solar system of a star numbered GGC 8788845 in the latest catalog. A rescue beacon was constructed on the second planet of the system in the year 2432.”

“Fine,” said Rand. “I want you to calculate an orbit for me that’ll bring this lifeship down right next to the beacon.”

The computer was silent. Rand imagined the electronic impulses racing around inside its complicated machinery. Two or three minutes went by.

“How’s that orbit coming?” he asked. “It shouldn’t have taken you this long.”

The computer made no reply.

“Answer me,” Rand said. “This is Captain Rand speaking. I’m giving you a direct order: feed me that orbit at once.”

Silence.

“Do you hear me?”

More silence.

“I think the big brain’s in trouble,” Dombey said. “It oughta be talking to you, boss. Why ain’t it answering?”