Alexander M. Phillips

“ Are you going to kill us all to save a few holes in a patrol rocket's hull?"
Only one feeble light burned in the pilot cabin; the others were extinguished to conserve power. Cargyle noticed the air had a thick, dry taste to it.
"I can answer some of those questions, with your permission, sir," said Markoe, stepping forward. Wallace nodded. "Do you realize, Mr. Chapman," continued Markoe, "what it would mean if we led these things back to Mars? They reproduce; multiply where their food supply is greatest. Can't you picture it? From Mars to Earth to Venus. ”

“ Chapman, the chief pilot, was pacing nervously back and forth before the dead control board; the other men were now dropping back into attitudes of listless dejection.
"Why are we drifting?" Cargyle asked. The ship was silent, vibrationless. All rockets were inoperative—they were sweeping helplessly through space, undirected.
"Why?" growled Simms. "Because those crazy devils took as much fuel as they could and then drained the tanks. We're falling into an orbit—"
"Speed?"
"Roughly ten per second. We were trying to contact Tracolatown, but the mutineers smashed the hull plates. ”

“ They can't go where they like. It's true they need no atmosphere. But they do need food! They can move through empty space only relatively short distances; the force which holds them together consumes tremendous quantities of energy. When the Denebola is gone they will break up, die, if you want to call it that, unless an asteroid or meteor is within their reach. And they aren't new to the system, in my opinion. I suppose they're as old on the asteroids as life is on Earth; older, maybe, but they can't cross the enormous gulf between the asteroid belt and the nearest planets, Mars and Jupiter. ”

“ The ship seemed haunted. Men saw, or thought they saw, queer flames in every corner. Captain Wallace wondered if they were all going mad. Only he and Cargyle had yet to see the things. What was worse, things were disappearing—tools, supplies, replacement parts. More hydrogen made its appearance.
The effect of all this on the already teetering crew can be imagined. Captain Wallace left the problem of the mysterious flames to Calvin Markoe, the astrophysicist appointed by the Cranford people, and devoted himself to keeping the crew in hand. ”

“ What's left of the crew must have crowded into the two small ships; we didn't find a living man when we explored the ship. Except you. Where they expect to go, God knows. With a normal crew of four the air in a scout rocket is good for only about five days. Crowded they won't last two, and Mars is it least a week away."
"How did you know that oxygen would bring me back?" asked Cargyle. They had started back toward the pilot room.
"Didn't," replied Wallace. "Markoe and I were inspecting the ship—we had to wear space-suits aft of the main air renewer. The whole stern of the ship's riddled. ”

“ As Markoe and Cargyle emerged from the airlock they heard Simms' voice.
"—and we're desperate, Captain," he was saying. "You're got to call Tracolatown and give them our position. Do you want us to die like rats? How much longer will these batteries last? Perhaps it's too late now. Let Markoe stay here and play with these things if he wants. I'm not!"
"Mr. Simms, I've warned you once," said Wallace, sternly. "If you forget yourself again, I shall place you under arrest."
"How do you know they will attack another ship, Captain Wallace?" ”

“ Tucking his blastor pistol into his belt, Cargyle crawled into the space revealed.
All space cruisers were equipped with passages like this, known only to the officers: in the long monotonous months in space tension between men would sometimes sweep up to murderous frenzy, and mutinies were not uncommon.
Mutiny on the Denebola had been long coming. They were returning from a three-year surveying and specimen-collecting expedition among the asteroids. Sent out by the Cranford Foundation, they had outfitted in the Martian colony of Tracolatown. ”

“ These flame-things doing it, Markoe says. We've got all the compartments closed off, but if he's right, the Denebola's through. We found you on our way back. Looked as though you were dead. But we tried the oxygen from one of the helmets on you, and it eventually brought you around.
"What are they?" Cargyle asked. "These flames? Are they alive?"
"If they are," said Markoe, "they're like no kind of life ever known before. They set up a powerful field of some kind. ”

“ Barring a lucky accident it would take months of experiment. Think of the loss of life that would precede their success! And it's fully possible that they are indestructible. Lord, man! Will you gamble the fate of our whole civilization just to save your own skin? ”

“ They break up matter—do something to the big, complex atoms of the heavy elements to break them down. And when they are done, the light, simple atoms are left—hydrogen, and helium. That's what's happening to the Denebola—the earthworms of space feed on the energy in the heavy atoms of her metal hull, and we find traces of hydrogen. ”

“ The field which the broken timer built up when operated neutralized whatever force held the flame-things together. The spaceworms could only retreat before that field; if they were caught in it their cohesion vanished, and their energy fled—they "died."
It was only necessary, Markoe said, to analyze and then amplify that field; send it pulsing out into space. Most of the spaceworms would be caught in it instantly, gathered, as they were, upon the Denebola. If any were further out in space they would be driven back before the field, or overtaken and destroyed. ”

“ How to find it in time!"
"Markoe," said Cargyle, "why haven't they attacked the control cabin? It's the one compartment of the ship where you never see them. There must be some reason."
Markoe looked at him a moment, then shook his head. "Chance, that's all. They started in the tail of the ship, and they're working forward. There's nothing in the pilot cabin to stop them. I've tried the viso-set's wave-lengths. Doesn't bother them."
But, unreasonably, Cargyle clung to the belief that there was something about the control cabin.... ”

“ We have plenty of brilliant men in the labs and universities. They'd probably lick these spaceworms in no time."
"There are many men more brilliant than myself," replied Markoe, ignoring the sneer. "And if they can be destroyed those men would find the way. ”

“ The heavy hopelessness that had filled the control cabin vanished. Lights went on. Barfield snapped on his set.
"The Denebola ... calling Tracolatown. Calling 3TRA45 ... this is the Denebola...." Strongly, urgently, the call went out.
"Can we last?" Cargyle asked.
"If we contact them quickly," replied Wallace. "At the worst, we can hold out a while in space-suits. But we've got to pick up the Tracolatown station soon."
Markoe and Parker set to work on the timer; Captain Wallace and Cargyle checked and rechecked their position; everyone seemed to find something to do. ”