Derelict

orders, Sabo. You keep forgetting."

  "They're illegal orders, sir!"

  "I'll take responsibility for that."

  Sabo looked the old man straight in the eye. "You mean you'd sell usdown a rat hole to save your skin. That's what you mean."

  Captain Loomis' eyes widened incredulously. Then his face darkened, andhe stepped very close to the big man. "You'll watch your tongue, Ithink," he gritted. "Be careful what you say to me, Sabo. Be verycareful. Because if you don't, _you'll_ be in irons, and we'll see justhow long you last when you get back home. Now you've got your orders.You'll board the ship with Brownie."

  The big man's fists were clenched until the knuckles were white. "Youdon't know what's over there!" he burst out. "We could be slaughtered."

  The captain's smile was unpleasant. "That would be such a pity," hemurmured. "I'd really hate to see it happen--"

  * * * * *

  The ship hung dark and silent, like a shadowy ghost. No flicker of lightcould be seen aboard it; no sound nor faintest sign of life came fromthe tall, dark hull plates. It hung there, huge and imponderable, andswung around with the Station in its silent orbit.

  The men huddled about Sabo and Brownie, helping them into their pressuresuits, checking their equipment. They had watched the little scanningbeetles crawl over the surface of the great ship, examining, probingevery nook and crevice, reporting crystals, and metals, and irons, whilethe boarding party prepared. And still the radioman waited alertly for aflicker of life from the solemn giant.

  Frightened as they were of their part in the illegal secrecy, thearrival of the ship had brought a change in the crew, lighting fires ofexcitement in their eyes. They moved faster, their voices were lighter,more cheerful. Long months on the Station had worn on their nerves--outof contact with their homes, on a mission that was secretly jeered asutter Governmental folly. Ships _had_ been seen, years before,disappearing into the sullen bright atmospheric crust of Saturn, butthere had been no sign of anything since. And out there, on the lonelyguard Station, nerves had run ragged, always waiting, always watching,wearing away even the iron discipline of their military background. Theygrew bitterly weary of the same faces, the same routine, the constantrepetition of inactivity. And through the months they had watched withincreasing anxiety the conflict growing between the captain and hisbitter, sullen-eyed second-in-command, John Sabo.

  And then the ship had come, incredibly, from the depths of space, andthe tensions of loneliness were forgotten in the flurry of activity. Thelocks whined and opened as the two men moved out of the Station on thelittle propulsion sleds, linked to the Station with light silk guyropes. Sabo settled himself on the sled, cursing himself for falling sofoolishly into the captain's scheme, cursing his tongue for wandering.And deep within him he felt a new sensation, a vague uneasiness andinsecurity that he had not felt in all his years of military life. Thestrange ship was a variant, an imponderable factor thrown suddenly intohis small world of hatred and bitterness, forcing him into unknownterritory, throwing his mind into a welter of doubts and fears. Heglanced uneasily across at Brownie, vaguely wishing that someone elsewere with him. Brownie was a troublemaker, Brownie talked too much,Brownie philosophized in a world that ridiculed philosophy. He'd knownmen like Brownie before, and he knew that they couldn't be trusted.

  The gray hull gleamed at them as they moved toward it, a monstrous wallof polished metal. There were no dents, no surface scars from itspassage through space. They found the entrance lock without difficulty,near the top of the ship's great hull, and Brownie probed the rim of thelock with a dozen instruments, his dark eyes burning eagerly. And then,with a squeal that grated in Sabo's ears, the oval port of the shipquivered, and slowly opened.

  Silently, the sleds moved into the opening. They were in a small vault,quite dark, and the sleds settled slowly onto a metal deck. Sabo easedhimself from the seat, tuning up his audios to their highestsensitivity, moving over to Brownie. Momentarily they touched helmets,and Brownie's excited voice came to him, muted, but breathless. "Notrouble getting it open. It worked on the same principle as ours."

  "Better get to work on the inner lock."

  Brownie shot him a sharp glance. "But what about--inside? I mean, wecan't just walk in on them--"

  "Why not? We've tried to contact them."

  Reluctantly, the little engineer began probing the inner lock withtrembling fingers. Minutes later they were easing themselves through,moving slowly down the dark corridor, waiting with pounding hearts fora sound, a sign. The corridor joined another, and then still another,until they reached a great oval door. And then they were inside, in theheart of the ship, and their eyes widened as they stared at the thing inthe center of the great vaulted chamber.

  "My God!" Brownie's voice was a hoarse whisper in the stillness. "Lookat them, Johnny!"

  Sabo moved slowly across the room toward the frail, crushed form lyingagainst the great, gleaming panel. Thin, almost boneless arms werepasted against the hard metal; an oval, humanoid skull was crushed likean eggshell into the knobs and levers of the control panel. Suddenhorror shot through the big man as he looked around. At the far side ofthe room was another of the things, and still another, mashed, likelifeless jelly, into the floors and panels. Gently he peeled a bit ofjelly away from the metal, then turned with a mixture of wonder anddisgust. "All dead," he muttered.

  Brownie looked up at him, his hands trembling. "No wonder there was nosign." He looked about helplessly. "It's a derelict, Johnny. A wanderer.How could it have happened? How long ago?"

  Sabo shook his head, bewildered. "Then it was just chance that it cameto us, that we saw it--"

  "No pilot, no charts. It might have wandered for centuries." Browniestared about the room, a frightened look on his face. And then he wasleaning over the control panel, probing at the array of levers, hisfingers working eagerly at the wiring. Sabo nodded approvingly. "We'llhave to go over it with a comb," he said. "I'll see what I can find inthe rest of the ship. You go ahead on the controls and drive." Withoutwaiting for an answer he moved swiftly from the round chamber, out intothe corridor again, his stomach almost sick.

  It took them many hours. They moved silently, as if even a slight soundmight disturb the sleeping alien forms, smashed against the dark metalpanels. In another room were the charts, great, beautiful charts,totally unfamiliar, studded with star formations he had never seen,noted with curious, meaningless symbols. As Sabo worked he heard Browniemoving down into the depths of the ship, toward the giant engine rooms.And then, some silent alarm clicked into place in Sabo's mind,tightening his stomach, screaming to be heard. Heart pounding, he dasheddown the corridor like a cat, seeing again in his mind the bright, eagereyes of the engineer. Suddenly the meaning of that eagerness dawned onhim. He scampered down a ladder, along a corridor, and down anotherladder, down to the engine room, almost colliding with Brownie as hecrossed from one of the engines to a battery of generators on the farside of the room.

  "Brownie!"

  "What's the trouble?"

  Sabo trembled, then turned away. "Nothing," he muttered. "Just athought." But he watched as the little man snaked into the labyrinth ofdynamos and coils and wires, peering eagerly, probing, searching, makingnotes in the little pad in his hand.

  Finally, hours later, they moved again toward the lock where they hadleft their sleds. Not a word passed between them. The uneasiness wasstrong in Sabo's mind now, growing deeper, mingling with fear and apremonition of impending evil. A dead ship, a derelict, come to them bymerest chance from some unthinkably remote star. He cursed, withoutknowing why, and suddenly he felt he hated Brownie as much as he hatedthe captain waiting for them in the Station.

  But as he stepped into the Station's lock, a new thought crossed hismind, almost dazzling him with its unexpectedness. He looked at theengineer's thin face, and his hands were trembling as he opened thepressure suit.

  * * * * *

  He deliberately took lo
nger than was necessary to give his report to thecaptain, dwelling on unimportant details, watching with maliciousamusement the captain's growing annoyance. Captain Loomis' eyes keptsliding to Brownie, as though trying to read the information he wantedfrom the engineer's face. Sabo rolled up the charts slowly, stowing themin a pile on the desk. "That's the picture, sir. Perhaps a qualifiedastronomer could make something of it; I haven't the knowledge or theinstruments. The ship came from outside the system, beyond doubt.Probably from a planet with lighter gravity than our own, judging fromthe frailty of the creatures. Oxygen breathers, from the looks of theirgas storage. If you ask me, I'd