Subspace Survivors

got it made, I tell you!" Newman pounded thetable with his fist. "Seventy _million_ if it's a cent! Heavier greasethan your lousy spig Syndicate ever even _heard_ of! I'm as good anastrogator as Jones is, and a damn sight better engineer. In electronicsI maybe ain't got the theory Pretty Boy has, but at building andrepairing the stuff I've forgot more than he ever will know. At_practical_ stuff, and that's all we give a whoop about, I lay overboth them sissies like a Lunar dome."

  "Oh, yeah?" Lopresto sneered. "How come you aren't ticketed forsubspace, then?"

  "For hell's sake, act your age!" Newman snorted in disgust. Eyes lockedand held, but nothing happened. "D'ya think I'm dumb? Or that themsubspace Boy Scouts can be fixed? Or I don't know where the heavy greaseis at? Or I can't make the approach? Why ain't _you_ in subspace?"

  "I see." Lopresto forced his anger down. "But I've got to be _sure_ wecan get back without 'em."

  "You can be _damn_ sure. I got to get back myself, don't I? But get onething down solid. _I_ get the big peroxide blonde."

  "You can have her. Too big. I like the little yellowhead a lot better."

  Newman sneered into the hard-held face so close to his and said: "Anddon't think for a second _you_ can make me crawl, you small-time,chiseling punk. Rub _me_ out after we kill them off and you get nowhere.You're dead. Chew on that a while, and you'll know who's boss."

  After just the right amount of holding back and objecting, Loprestoagreed. "You win, Newman, the way the cards lay. Have you ever plannedthis kind of an operation or do you want me to?"

  "You do it, Vince," Newman said, grandly. He had at least one of thequalities of a leader. "Besides, you already have, ain't you?"

  "Of course. Ferdy will take Deston----"

  "No he won't! He's _mine_, the louse!"

  "If you're _that_ dumb, all bets are off. What are you using for abrain? Can't you see the guy's chain lightning on ball bearings?"

  "But we're going to surprise 'em, ain't we?"

  "Sure, but even Ferdy would just as soon not give _him_ an even break._You_ wouldn't stand the chance of a snowflake in hell, and if you'vegot the brains of a louse you know it."

  "O. K., we'll let Ferdy have him. Me and you will match draws to seewho----"

  "I can draw twice to your once, but I suppose I'll have to prove it toyou. I'll take Jones; you will gun the professor; Moose will grab thedames, one under each arm, and keep 'em out of the way until theshooting's over. The only thing is, when? The sooner the better.Tomorrow?"

  "Not quite, Vince. Let 'em finish figuring course, time, distance, allthat stuff. They can do it a lot faster and some better than I can. I'lltell you when."

  "O. K., and I'll give the signal. When I yell 'NOW' we give 'em thebusiness."

  Newman went to his cabin and the muscle called Moose spoke thoughtfully.That is, as nearly thoughtfully as his mental equipment would allow.

  "I don't like that ape, boss. Before you gun him, let me work him overjust a little bit, huh?"

  "It'll be quite a while yet, but that's a promise, Moose. As soon as hisjob's done he'll wish he'd never been born. Until then, we'll let himthink he's Top Dog. Let him rave. But Ferdy, any time he's behind me orout of sight, watch him like a hawk. Shoot him through the right elbowif he makes one sour move."

  "I get you, boss."

  * * * * *

  A couple of evenings later, in Lifecraft Two, Barbara said: "You'reworried, Babe, and everything's going so smoothly. Why?"

  "Too smoothly altogether. That's why. Newman ought to be doing a slowburn and goldbricking all he dares; instead of which he's happy as aclam and working like a nailer ... and I wouldn't trust Vincent Loprestoor Ferdinand Blaine as far as I can throw a brick chimney by its smoke.This whole situation stinks. There's going to be shooting for sure."

  "But they couldn't do _anything_ without you two!" Bernice exclaimed."It'd be suicide ... and with no motive ... _could_ they, Ted,possibly?"

  Jones' dark face did not lighten. "They could, and I'm very much afraidthey intend to. As a crew-chief, Newman is a jack-leg engineer and avery good practical 'troncist; and if he's what I _think_ he is----" Hepaused.

  "Could be," Deston said, doubtfully. "In with a mob of normal-spacepirate-smugglers. I'll buy that, but there wouldn't be enough plunderto----"

  "Just a sec. So he's a pretty good rule-of-thumb astrogator, too, andwe're computing every element of the flight. As for motive--salvage.With either of us alive, none. With both of us dead, can you guesswithin ten million bucks of how much they'll collect?"

  "_Blockhead_!" Deston slapped himself on the forehead. "I never even_thought_ of that angle. That nails it down solid."

  "With the added attraction," Jones went on, coldly and steadily, "ofhaving two extremely desirable female women for eleven months beforekilling them, too."

  Both girls shrank visibly, and Deston said: "Check. I thought that wasthe main feature, but it didn't add up. This does. Now, how will theyfigure the battle? Both of us at once, of----"

  "Why?" Barbara asked. "I'd think they'd waylay you, one at a time."

  "Uh-uh. The survivor would lock the ship in null-G and it'd be likeshooting fish in a barrel. Since we're almost never together on duty ...and it won't come until after we've finished the computations ...they'll think up a good reason for _everybody_ to be together, and thatitself will be the tip-off. Ferdy will probably draw on me----"

  "And he'll kill you," Jones said, flatly. "So I think I'll blow hisbrains out tomorrow morning on sight."

  "And get killed yourself? No ... much better to use their own trap----"

  "We _can't_! Fast as you are, you aren't in _his_ class. He's aprofessional--probably one of the fastest guns in space."

  "Yes, but ... I've got a ... I mean I think I can----"

  Bernice, grinning openly now, stopped Deston's floundering. "It's hightime you fellows told each other the truth. Bobby and I let our backhair down long ago--we were both tremendously surprised to know thatboth you boys are just as strongly psychic as we are. Perhaps even moreso."

  "Oh ... so _you_ get hunches, too?" Jones demanded. "So you'll haveplenty of warning?"

  "All my life. The old alarm clock has never failed me yet. But the girlscan't start packing pistols now."

  "I wouldn't know how to shoot one if I did," Bernice laughed. "I'llthrow things I'm very good at that."

  "Huh?" Jones asked. He didn't know his new wife very well, either. "Whatcan _you_ throw straight enough to do any good?"

  "Anything I can reach," she replied, confidently. "Baseballs, medicineballs, cannon balls, rocks, bricks, darts, discus, hammer,javelin--what-have-you. In a for-real battle I'd prefer ... chairs, Ithink. Flying chairs are really hard to cope with. Knives are too ...uh-uh, I'd much rather have you fellows do the actual executing. I'llstart wearing a couple of knives in leg-sheaths, but I won't throw 'emor use 'em unless I absolutely have to. So who will I knock out with thefirst chair?"

  "I'll answer that," Barbara said, quietly. "If it's Blaine against Babe,it'll be Lopresto against Herc. So you'll throw your chairs or whateverat that unspeakable oaf Newman."

  "I'd rather brain him than anyone else I know, but that would leave thatgigantic gorilla to ... why, he'd ... listen, you'll simply _have_ to goarmed."

  "I always do." Barbara held out her hands. "Since they don't want toshoot us two--yet--these are all the weapons I'll need."

  "Against a man-mountain like that? You're _that_ good? Really?"

  "Especially against a man-mountain like that. I'm that good. Really,"and both Joneses began to realize what Deston already knew--just howdeadly those harmless-seeming weapons could be.

  Barbara went on: "We should have a signal, in case one of us getswarning first. Something that wouldn't mean anything to them ...musical, say ... Brahms. That's it. The very instant any one of us feelstheir intent to signal their attack he yells 'BRAHMS!' and we _all_ beatthem to the punch. O. K.?"

  It was O. K., and the four--Adams was still har
d at work in thelounge--went to bed.

  * * * * *

  And three days later, within an hour after the last flight-datum hadbeen "put in the tank," the four intended victims allowed themselves tobe inveigled into the lounge. Everything was peaceful; everyone was fullof friendship and brotherly love. But suddenly "BRAHMS!" rang out, withfour voices in absolute unison; followed a moment later by Lopresto'sstentorian "NOW!"

  It was a very good thing that Deston had had ample warning, for he wasindeed competing out of his class. As it was, his bullet crashed throughBlaine's head, while the gunman's went harmlessly into the carpet. Theother pistol duel wasn't even close! Lopresto's hand barely touched hisgun.

  Bernice, even while shrieking the battle-cry, leaped to her feet, hurledher chair, and reached for another; but one chair was enough. Thatfiercely but accurately-sped missile knocked the half-drawn pistol fromNewman's hand and sent his body crashing to the floor, where Deston'ssecond bullet made it certain that he would not recover consciousness.

  Barbara's hand-to-hand engagement took about one second longer. MooseMordan was big and strong; and, for such a big man, was fairly fastphysically. If he had had time to get his muscles ready, he might havehad a chance. His thought processes, however, were lamentably slow; andBarbara Warner Deston was almost as fast physically as she was mentally.Thus she reached him before he even began to realize that thispint-sized girl actually intended to hit him; and thus it was that hisbelly-muscles were still completely relaxed when her small but extremelyhard left fist sank half-forearm-deep into his solar plexus.

  With an agonized "_WHOOSH_!" he began to double up, but she scarcelyallowed him to bend. Her right hand, fingers tightly bunched, wasalready boring savagely into a selected spot at the base of his neck.Then, left hand at his throat and right hand pulling hard at his belt,she put the totalized and concentrated power of her whole body behindthe knee she drove into his groin.

  That ended it. The big man could very well have been dying on his feet.To make sure, however--or to keep the girl from knowing that she hadkilled a man?--Deston and Jones each put a bullet through the fallinghead before it struck the rug.

  Both girls flung themselves, sobbing, into their husband's arms.

  The whole battle had lasted only a few seconds. Adams, although he hadseen almost everything, had been concentrating so deeply that it tookthose few seconds for him actually to realize what was going on. He gotup, felt[2] of Newman's head, then looked casually at the three otherbodies.

  [2] Transcriber's note: As in original.

  "Oh, I _killed_ him, Carl!" Barbara sobbed, convulsively. "And the worstof it is, I really _meant_ to! I _never_ did anything like that beforein my whole life!"

  "You didn't kill him, Barbara," Adams said.

  "Huh?" She raised her head from Deston's shoulder; the contrast betweenher streaming eyes and the relief dawning over her whole face was almostfunny. "Why, I did the foulest things possible, and as hard as Ipossibly could. I'm _sure_ I killed him."

  "By no means, my dear. Judo techniques, however skillfully andpowerfully applied, do not and can not kill instantly. Bullets throughthe brain do. I will photograph the cadavers, of course, and perform thecustomary post-mortem examinations for the record; but I know alreadywhat the findings will be. These four men died instantly of gunshotwounds."

  * * * * *

  With the four gangsters gone, life aboardship settled down quickly intoa routine. That routine, however, was in no sense dull. The officers hadplenty to do; operating the whole ship and rebuilding the mechanismsthat were operating on jury rigging or on straight "bread-board"hookups. And in their "spare" time they enjoyed themselves tremendouslyin becoming better and better acquainted with their wives. For Berniceand Jones, like Barbara and Deston, had for each other an infinitenumber of endless vistas of personality; the exploration of which wassheerest delight.

  The girls--each of whom became joyously pregnant as soon as shecould--kept house and helped their husbands whenever need or opportunityarose. Their biggest chore, however, was to see to it that Adams gotsleep, food, and exercise. For, if left to his own devices, he wouldnever have exercised at all, would have grabbed a bite now and then, andwould have slept only when he could no longer stay awake.

  "Uncle Andy, why don't you _use_ that Big Brain of yours?" Barbarasnapped at him one day. "For a man that's actually as smart as you are,I swear you've got the least sense of anybody I know!"

  "But it's necessary, my dear child," Adams explained, unmoved. "Thismaterial is new. There are many extremely difficult problems involved,and I have less than a year to work on them. Less than _one year_; andit is a task for a team of specialists and all the resources of aresearch center."

  To the officers, however, Adams went into more detail. "Considering theenormous amounts of supplies carried; the scope, quantity, and qualityof the safety devices employed; it is improbable that we are the firstsurvivors of a subspace catastrophe to set course for a planet."

  After some argument, the officers agreed.

  "While I cannot as yet detect it, classify it, or evaluate it, we arecarrying an extremely heavy charge of an unknown nature; the residuum ofa field of force which is possibly more or less analogous to theelectromagnetic field. This residuum either is or is not dischargeableto an object of planetary mass; and I'm virtually certain that it is.The discharge may be anything from an imperceptible flow up to one ofsuch violence as to volatilize the craft carrying it. From the facts:One, that in the absence of that field the subspace radio will functionnormally; and Two, that no subspace-radio messages have ever beenreceived from survivors; the conclusion seems inescapable that thedischarge of this unknown field is in fact of extreme violence."

  "Good God!" Deston exclaimed. "Oh ... _that_ was what you meant by'fantastic precautions,' back there?"

  "Precisely."

  "But what can we _do_ about it?"

  "I don't know. I ... simply ... do ... not ... know." Adams lost himselfin thought for over a minute. "This is all _so_ new ... I know _so_little ... and am working with such _pitifully_ inadequateinstrumentation--However, we have months of time yet, and if I am unableto arrive at a conclusion before arrival--I don't mean a rigorousanalysis, of course, but merely a stop-gap, empirical, pragmaticsolution--we will simply remain in orbit around that sun until I do."

  IV.

  The _Procyon_ bored on through space, at one unchanging gravity ofacceleration. It may not seem, at first glance, that one gravity wouldresult in any very high velocity; but when it is maintained steadily fordays and weeks and months, it builds up to a very respectable speed. Norwas there any question of power, for the _Procyon_'s atomics did notdrive the ship, but merely energized the "Chaytors"--the Chaytor Effectengines that tapped the energy of the expanding universe itself.

  Thus, in less than six months, the _Procyon_ had attained a velocityalmost half that of light. At the estimated mid-point of the flight thespaceship, still at one gravity of drive, was turned end-for-end; sothat for the ensuing five-and-a-fraction months she would be slowingdown.

  A few weeks after the turnover, Adams seemed to have more time. Atleast, he devoted more time to the expectant mothers, even to the pointof supervising Deston and Jones in the construction of a weirdly-wireddevice by means of which he studied and photographed the unborn childeach woman bore. He said nothing, however, until Barbara made him talk.

  "Listen, you egregious clam," she said, firmly, "I know darn well I'vebeen pregnant for at _least_ seven months, and I ought to be twice thisbig. Our clock isn't _that_ far off; Carl said that by wave lengths orsomething it's only about three per cent fast. And you've beenpussyfooting and hem-hawing around all this time. Now, Uncle Andy, Iwant the _truth_. _Are_ we in for a lot of trouble?"

  "Trouble? Of course not. _Certainly_ not. No trouble at all, my dear.Why, you've seen the pictures--here, look at them again ... see?Absolutely normal fetus--yours, too, Bernice. _Perfect_!
Nomalformations of any kind."

  "Yes, but for what _age_?" Bernice asked, pointedly. "Four months, say?I see, I was exposed to a course in embryology myself, once."

  "But _that's_ the interesting part of it!" Adams enthused. "Fascinating!And, indubitably, supremely important. In fact, it may point out the keydatum underlying the solution of our entire problem. If this zeta fieldis causing this seemingly peculiar biological effect, that gives us atremendously powerful new tool, for certain time vectors in thegeneralized matrix become parameters. Thus, certain determinants,notably the all-important delta-prime-sub-mu, become manipulable by ...but you aren't _listening_!"

  "I'm listening, pops, but nothing is coming through. But thanks much,anyway. I