Let 'Em Breathe Space!

around. So he got killed."

  "But who?" Jenny asked.

  I shrugged sickly. "Somebody crazy enough--or desperate enough to turnback that he'll risk our air and commit murder. You'd better go afterthe captain while Hal gets his test equipment. I'll keep watch here."

  It didn't feel good in hydroponics after they left. I looked at thosedead plants, trying to figure whether there were enough left to keepus going. I studied Hendrix's body, trying to tell myself the murdererhad no reason to come back and try to get me.

  I reached for a cigarette, and then put the pack back. The air feltalmost as close as the back of my neck felt tense and unprotected. Andtelling myself it was all imagination didn't help--not with what wasin that chamber to keep me company.

  II

  Muller's face was like an iceberg when he came down--but only after hesaw Hendrix. Before then I'd caught the fat moon-calf expression onhis face, and I'd heard Jenny giggling. Damn it, they'd taken enoughtime. Hal was already back, fussing over things with the hunk of tinand lenses he treated like a newborn baby.

  Doc Napier came in behind them, but separately. I saw him glance atthem and look sick. Then both Muller and Napier began concentrating onbusiness. Napier bent his nervous, bony figure over the corpse, andstood up almost at once. "Murder all right."

  "So I guessed, Dr. Napier," Muller growled heavily at him. "Wrap himup and put him between hulls to freeze. We'll bury him when we land.Tremaine, give a hand with it, will you?"

  "I'm not a laborer, Captain Muller!" Napier protested. I started totell him where he could get off, too.

  But Jenny shook her head at us. "Please. Can't you see Captain Mulleris trying to keep too many from knowing about this? I should thinkyou'd be glad to help. Please?"

  Put that way, I guess it made sense. We found some rubber sheeting inone of the lockers, and began wrapping Hendrix in it; it wasn'tpleasant, since he was beginning to soften up from the enzymes he'dabsorbed. "How about going ahead to make sure no one sees us?" Isuggested to Jenny.

  Muller opened his mouth, but Jenny gave one of her quick little laughsand opened the door for us. Doc looked relieved. I guessed he wastrying to kid himself. Personally, I wasn't a fool--I was just hooked;I knew perfectly well she was busy playing us off against one another,and probably having a good time balancing the books. But hell, that'sthe way life runs.

  "Get Pietro up here!" Muller fired after us. She laughed again, andnodded. She went with us until we got to the 'tween-hulls lock, thenwent off after the chief. She was back with him just as we finishedstuffing Hendrix through and sealing up again.

  Muller grunted at us when we got back, then turned to Lomax again. Thebig chemist didn't look happy. He spread his hands toward us, andhunched his shoulders. "A fifty-times over-dose of chromazone in thosetanks--fortunately none in the others. And I can't find a trace of itin the fertilizer chemicals or anywhere else. Somebody deliberatelyput it into those tanks."

  "Why?" Pietro asked. We'd filled him in with the rough details, but itstill made no sense to him.

  "Suppose you tell me, Dr. Pietro," Muller suggested. "Chromazone is apoison most people never heard of. One of the new _scientific_nuisances."

  Pietro straightened, and his goatee bristled. "If you're hinting . . ."

  "I am _not_ hinting, Dr. Pietro. I'm telling you that I'm confiningyour group to their quarters until we can clean up this mess, distilthe water that's contaminated, and replant. After that, if aninvestigation shows nothing, I _may_ take your personal bond for theconduct of your people. Right now I'm protecting my ship."

  "But captain--" Jenny began.

  Muller managed a smile at her. "Oh, not you, of course, Jenny. I'llneed you here. With Hendrix gone, you're the closest thing we have toa Farmer now."

  * * * * *

  "Captain Muller," Pietro said sharply. "Captain, in the words of thehistorical novelists--drop dead! Dr. Sanderson, I forbid you to leaveyour quarters so long as anyone else is confined to his. I have ampleauthority for that."

  "Under emergency powers--" Muller spluttered over it, and Pietrojumped in again before he could finish.

  "Precisely, Captain. Under emergency situations, when passengersaboard a commercial vessel find indications of total irresponsibilityor incipient insanity on the part of a ship's officer, they areconsidered correct in assuming command for the time needed to protecttheir lives. We were poisoned by food prepared in your kitchen, andwere nearly killed by radioactivity through a leak in theengine-room--and no investigation was made. We are now confronted withanother situation aimed against our welfare--as the others were whollyaimed at us--and you choose to conduct an investigation against ourgroup only. My only conclusion is that you wish to confine us toquarters so we cannot find your motives for this last outrage. Paul,will you kindly relieve the captain of his position?"

  They were both half right, and mostly wrong. Until it was proved thatour group was guilty, Muller couldn't issue an order that wasobviously discriminatory and against our personal safety in case therewas an attack directed on us. He'd be mustered out of space and intothe Lunar Cells for that. But on the other hand, the "safety forpassengers" clause Pietro was citing applied only in the case ofovert, direct and physical danger by an officer to normal passengers.He might be able to weasel it through a court, or he might be foundguilty of mutiny. It left me in a pretty position.

  Jenny fluttered around. "Now, now--" she began.

  I cut her off. "Shut up, Jenny. And you two damned fools cool down.Damn it, we've got an emergency here all right--we may not have airplants enough to live on. Pietro, we can't run the ship--and neithercan Muller get through what's obviously a mess that may call for allour help by confining us. Why don't you two go off and fight it out inperson?"

  Surprisingly, Pietro laughed. "I'm afraid I'd put up a poor showingagainst the captain, Paul. My apologies, Captain Muller."

  Muller hesitated, but finally took Pietro's hand, and dropped theissue.

  "We've got enough plants," he said, changing the subject. "We'll haveto cut out all smoking and other waste of air. And I'll need Jenny towork the hydroponics, with any help she requires. We've got to getmore seeds planted, and fast. Better keep word of this to ourselves.We--"

  A shriek came from Jenny then. She'd been busy at one of the lockersin the chamber. Now she began ripping others open and pawing throughthings inside rubber-gloves. "Captain Muller! The seeds! The seeds!"

  Hal took one look, and his face turned gray.

  * * * * *

  "Chromazone," he reported. "Every bag of seed has been filled with asolution of chromazone! They're worthless!"

  "How long before the plants here will seed?" Muller asked sharply.

  "Three months," Jenny answered. "Captain Muller, what are we going todo?"

  The dour face settled into grim determination. "The only sensiblething. Take care of these plants, conserve the air, and squeeze byuntil we can reseed. And, Dr. Pietro, with your permission, we'll turnabout for Earth at once. We can't go on like this. To proceed would beto endanger the life of every man aboard."

  "Please, Danton." Jenny put her hand on Pietro's arm. "I know whatthis all means to you, but--"

  Pietro shook her off. "It means the captain's trying to get out of theexpedition, again. It's five months back to Earth--more, by the timewe kill velocity. It's the same to Saturn. And either way, in fivemonths we've got this fixed up, or we're helpless. Permission toreturn refused, Captain Muller."

  "Then if you'll be so good as to return to your own quarters," Mullersaid, holding himself back with an effort that turned his face red,"we'll start clearing this up. And not a word of this."

  Napier, Lomax, Pietro and I went back to the scientists' quarters,leaving Muller and Jenny conferring busily. That was at fifteeno'clock. At sixteen o'clock, Pietro issued orders against smoking.

  Dinner was at eighteen o'clock. We sat down in silence. I reached formy plate without looking. And s
uddenly little Phil Riggs was on hisfeet, raving. "Whole wheat! Nothing but whole wheat bread! I'm sick ofit--sick! I won't--"

  "Sit down!" I told him. I'd bitten into one of the rolls on the table.It was white bread, and it was the best the cook had managed so far.There was corn instead of baked beans, and he'd done a fair job ofmaking meat loaf. "Stop making a fool of yourself, Phil."

  He slumped back, staring at the white bun into which he'd bitten."Sorry.