Lancelot Biggs

“ After all, this was a question Biggs must decide for himself.
As it turned out, though, it was not I, nor the Old Man, nor Lancelot, who solved the problem. It was Mrs. Biggs. In a calm, decisive voice she said, "But, Lanse, dear—such commotion! Of course you will go!"
"What!" blurted Lanse. "And leave you? Never!"
"Stuff," sniffed Diane, "and nonsense! Stop talking like a cheap play. What earthly good are you doing here? Not a bit! But out there, men have died ... betrayed by a race of scoundrels. Brave men. Spacemen like yourself. Your duty is plain. You must go. You have no choice." ”

“ And from the look in Diane's and Lancelot's eyes as they moved toward each other, I guessed it would probably be all right. For when a man and a woman feel that way about each other, they don't really need special dates to celebrate.
Anyhow, Lancelot Biggs had warbled his song of love. "Love sends a little gift of roses." Yeah—blue roses! But what did you expect? That whacky wingding of the spaceways never does anything in a normal way. ”

“ Lancelot Biggs was still muttering to himself. I was beginning to get worried about Biggs. He had a bad case of water on the brain, apparently.
He kept saying, "Nile? Red? Saar?"
Cap Hanson had finished his calls. Anyway, that's what he thought. Thaxton thought differently.
"If you don't mind, Captain," he reminded him. "Give the same message to the chief steward. We don't want any mess-boys or waiters interrupting our little tête-à-tête. Too many cooks, you know—" And he grinned.
"Ha!" growled the skipper. "Ha! I'd gladly laugh at your funeral, Thaxton." ”

“ Two plus two equals Lancelot Biggs. That's why, when Capt. Hanson and Diane wilted into my turret a few minutes later, looking like a brace of parboiled lobsters, I just grinned at them.
Hanson's eyes were haggard with despair. He wailed, "Sparks—this awful heat! You know what's causin' it? It's because we're gettin' too close to the Sun, that's what! You told me Lancelot had everything under control. Where is he?" ”

“ That was the score then, and it was the score fifteen minutes later when, with but seven more minutes remaining in the annual fracas, Lancelot Biggs went stark, staring mad.
Now, Cap Hanson contributed to that madness. I must admit that his glee annoyed me. I can stand taking a licking as well as the next man, but I hate like hell to have someone rub it in. And that's what the skipper was doing. ”

“ For again Joe Marlowe's voice was rolling through the control turret.
"Lieutenant Lancelot Biggs," it called, "aboard the Saturn—congratulations! You are the father of a fine baby boy—"
"G-g-gracious!" gasped Biggs, and fell into a chair. "Triplets!"
This time I addressed myself to Hanson. "Congratulations, Skipper," I said. "Now you're three grampaws. If Diane keeps this up, you'll be able to man a whole cruiser." ”

“ Boy, I'll tell you that gal has what it takes. A long moment passed, during which Diane looked squarely into Lancelot Biggs' eyes. What she found there, only she could tell you. But, "Yes, Lancelot," she said. "I trust you."
His shoulders stiffened, then, just the slightest bit. And a faint smile gathered at the corners of his lips. He said, "That's all I wanted to hear. Very well, gentlemen, be patient for just ten more hours...."
By far the worst feature of being caught in a vacuole is the fact that you're completely isolated from the rest of the universe. These super-spatial areas ”

“ Thank you very much, Lt. Biggs. And now, Captain—you were going to show me your storage holds, I believe? Didn't you say something about the aft holds?"
"Migawd, no!" said the skipper. "I mean—er—no. There's nothin' down there. We'll go visit the for'rd hold."
And they left. All of them, that is, but Lancelot Biggs. He made some excuse and stayed there in the control-turret with me. ”

“ If you're going to start fiddling around again with things you don't know anything about—"
"But I do know all about it, Sparks," wailed Lancelot. "And I'm almost positive my plan will work. Now, be a good fellow, will you? Help me carry one of those lead containers up to that spare chamber on A Deck, and, let's see—I'll need a tank, a quart of vitamin B extract, an ultraviolet ray lamp—"
So, you know me. Lollypop Donovan, the eternal sucker. I helped him.
By way of alibi, I might as well confess here and now that I didn't think anything would come of Biggs' experiment. ”

“ A flash of the old fire lighted his weathered, space-faded eyes. "But, mind—I want you to study hard durin' this next year! If you want to win your stripes, you got to listen to a wiser head!"
"Yes, sir," said Lancelot Biggs. "I will, sir."
Then the skipper left. A great old guy. No longer listless and lackadaisical, space-weary, but a new man, imbued with a strong, fighting new urge. To help a young man earn his spurs. ”

“ If there was any man aboard the Saturn whose knowledge of radio was equal to my own, that man was Lancelot Biggs! Why, he was the inventor of a new type of radio transmission plate. If this were to be his "final test," he would breeze home, win, place and show!
But Cooper didn't notice the elation in my eyes, or the equal joy in the skipper's optics. He was finishing his instructions.
"—and because you have learned who I am, Sparks, I suggest that you make no attempt to get in touch with, or speak to, Lieutenant Biggs. ”

“ After all, Lancelot Biggs and I are old buddies. Once we were bunkmates, even. There came back to me a measure of the confidence I had once had in him. And I nodded to Todd.
"Try it, Dick. We've got nothing to lose and everything to gain. Give the order."
He did. Chief Garrity must have been startled but he was too good a spaceman to argue an order from the bridge. He said, succinctly, "Aye, sirr!" And then—
I felt the rocking plunge. The moment of brief, incredible dizziness of frightful speed being intensified to the limiting velocity of light. ”

“ Cap Hanson, Diane Hanson, and our acting Skipper, Lancelot Biggs. They all hollered at once.
"What is it, Sparks?"
"Vacuole!" I snapped. "The Slipstream broke into one. They're preparing for the back-drag now."
Diane Hanson's eyes were like twin saucers.
"Vacuole?" she repeated. "What's that? What's a vacuole, Lancelot?"
Biggs said, "A hole in space, Diane. Their exact nature has never been accurately determined. All we know is that space itself, being subject to material warp, ofttimes develops 'empty spots' of super-space within itself. ”

“ Lancelot Biggs. Genius and crackpot, scarecrow and sage—and soon to become son-in-law of the skipper.
I said, "But why blame Biggs for this, Skipper? Is it his fault if the Home Office has gone squirrelly?"
"It is," grumbled Hanson savagely. "I never should have agreed to let Diane marry him. He started this mess at my house. Colonel Brophy and him was having dinner with me and Biggs told Brophy all about that new 'velocity intensifier' he invented—"
I shuddered. "You mean the gadget which got us all bolixed up in the negative universe? ”

“ What I been hearin' is bad. They's a rumor floatin' around that we're on a dead trajectory for Sol due to Major Gilchrist's course plottin'."
"Oh, that?" I said. "Forget it, skipper. Mr. Biggs knows all about it. He's got ideas."
"Well," said the skipper, relieved, "in that case, I guess everything's O.Q." And he waddled happily away. Which gives you some idea who's the real Master Mind on the Saturn.
That very same night, Diane Biggs stopped me outside the Officers' Mess.
"Sparks, have you seen Lancelot anywhere? I haven't laid eyes on him all day, and I'm worried." ”

“ Lancelot Biggs was left-righting to me, "g ... o ... t t ... o b ... e b ... r ... i ... e ... f. Power limited. Tell Chief line inner hull posi-charge steel lining, throw nega-circuit through outer. Have Todd revise course to following trajectory...."
I'll spare you the rest. It was all technical. So technical, in fact, that I couldn't make head or tail of it. There wasn't a man aboard the Saturn who could. It was, furthermore, absolute proof that we were dealing with no spook, but with L. Biggs himself. For this was typical "Biggsian" mathematics. ”

“ That completely screwball, absolutely mad, incredible genius—Lancelot Biggs!
[1] In the world of Lancelot Biggs, an esper is a man who makes his living telling fortunes. This he is able to do through his ability to make use of extra-sensory perception, the psychological phenomenon discovered by Dr. J. B. Rhine of Duke University, and outlined in his book "New Frontiers of the Mind."—Ed.
[2] A navicert is a navigation and transport permit issued by foreign consular authorities for space travel. Here, the Venusian consulate on Earth certified the Saturn's passage.—Ed. ”

“ What's that?"
"I think the governor should be told the truth," said Biggs. "We should confess that our seeds are not a first class product. Might not, indeed, even flourish in the soil of Iapetus."
"Lanse!" I cried. "Do you know what you're saying? Don't talk like that!"
"Yes, Governor," nodded Lancelot Biggs sorrowfully, "I'm afraid that's true. Your colony wouldn't want our seeds. For one thing, they're all roses. The Cosmic Corporation offers you all kinds of flowers. For another thing, our seeds are not particularly hardy. ”

“ Biggs shook his head firmly.
"No, that's another question entirely. But it can be solved by the same theory."
"Huh?"
"Twins!" said Biggs. "Or, rather, multiple rulers! Sparks, you said you couldn't tell the difference between one Themisite and another—"
"That's right."
"Neither can I. Neither can any Earthman. That's why we've been unable to understand their psychology and—more important still—their form of government."
"Government!" burst in the Old Man. "Now he talks about government. What's that got to do with—"
"Why," explained Lancelot, "everything! ”

“ The foremost was that of my long-time friend and shipmate, Lieutenant Lancelot Biggs; behind him was his uncle Prendergast, 1st Vice-president of the I.P.C. It was the older Biggs who spoke.
"It's all right, Sparks. These men are acting under company orders. They are medical officers assigned to give a physical examination to every man aboard the Saturn."
"Every man?" choked Cap Hanson. "Did you say every man, sir?" ”

“ Then he added, "Well, Sparks, I lost a bet with Biggs on the last trip. An' he won the right to navigate the next three Venus-to-Earth shuttles. So—" He shrugged. "He's handlin' the controls."
"Maltreating," I corrected, "is the word. I like Lancelot Biggs, Skipper. But I'd as soon ride a Martian firebird bareback as hop gravs with him in the turret. What do you say we—"
Just then the door busted open again, and this time in came the skipper's daughter, Diane, followed by our gawky genius, L. Biggs. There was a sight for you. Beauty and the Bust! ”

“ Come down to my growth chamber and we'll see."
We needed no second invitation. In minus zero seconds the three of us were galloping down the ramp to the room wherein Lancelot Biggs had installed his hydroponic tank. We waited breathlessly as he fumbled with the lock ... then gasped and choked as the door opened and a steamy mist gushed out to smack us in the pans with an almost ponderable force. Then regardless of the heat the three of us were crowding into the narrow cubicle and—
A welter of tropic growths tumbled out of the door. ”

“ We can't do no diggin' for soap without something to dig in. O.Q. Go ahead and make the deal, Sparks."
"And I," chimed in Biggs, "will organize the men and get to work on the digging—"
"No!" said Hanson hastily. "You mustn't exert yourself like that, boy. Remember your—"
He stopped abruptly. Lancelot glanced at him.
"What? Remember my what, Dad?"
"Nothin'. You stay here and direct the men; I'll get 'em onto the job."
So we became possessors of a bit of Iris terrain and set forth on the adventure which—we hoped—was to bring an end to Otto Steichner's rule over the tiny planetoid. ”

“ Hanson's eyes were round and wild and fearful.
"But then—where is he! We've got to turn around right away. Find him! We can't go back without—"
I shook my head.
"It's no use, Skipper. He may be in this universe, infinitely small, traveling at infinite speed; he may be in some other universe undreamed by man. He may be living, he may be dead. But wherever he is—he is gone forever from the ken of man. Lancelot Biggs is—dead. So far as man is concerned, he is dead."
Dick Todd said something then. ”

“ And to the worst possible person. For unless I'm greatly mistaken, that Thaxton person is a spy!
"More than that, he's the cleverest sort of a spy. Because—he's an esper!" [1]
The minute he said it I knew he was right. A spy. And an Esper! Earth is lousy with 'em. Most of them are quacks. But a few—
I gasped, "But sweet shades of Io, Lanse! If he's an esper, he's sure to learn all about the cargo. From you or me or Cap or one of the crew—What in Sam Hill are we going to do about it?"
"Po?" said Lancelot Biggs. ”

“ Biggs," I said, "you can read those charts on the wall. Don't you see we're being carried hundreds of thousands of miles off course? This vacuole is traveling way over to the right of our course, hitting an abnormal rate of speed—and we're imbedded in it like a fly in amber. We've already lost the race; pretty soon we'll lose our—" I stopped, not wanting to say "lives" in front of Diane.
Lancelot looked at me somberly.
"I should have thought, Sparks," he told me, "that you would understand. With your education and training—" But he seemed undecided. He stared at Diane. ”