Greylorn | Page 4

"Nice weapon," I said. I laid it on the open bar at my right.
Joyce opened his mouth to speak. I cut in in the same firm snappy tone
I use on the bridge. "Let me see yours, Lieutenant."
He flushed, looked at Kramer, then passed the pistol over without a
word. I took it, turned it over thoughtfully, and then rose, holding it
negligently by the grip.
"Now, if you gentlemen don't mind, I have a few things to attend to." I
was not smiling. I looked at Kramer with expressionless eyes. "I think
we'd better keep our little chat confidential for the present. I think I can
promise you action in the near future, though."
They filed out, looking as foolish as three preachers caught in a raid on
a brothel. I stood without moving until the door closed. Then I let my
breath out. I sat down and finished off the Scotch in one drag.
"You were lucky, boy," I said aloud. "Three gutless wonders."
* * * * *
I looked at the Mark 9's on the table. A blast from one of those would
have burned all four of us in that enclosed room. I dumped them into a
drawer and loaded my Browning 2mm. The trouble wasn't over yet, I
knew. After this farce, Kramer would have to make another move to
regain his prestige. I unlocked the door, and left it slightly ajar. Then I
threw the main switch and stretched out on my bunk. I put the
Browning needler on the little shelf near my right hand.
Perhaps I had made a mistake, I reflected, in eliminating formal
discipline as far as possible in the shipboard routine. It had seemed the
best course for a long cruise under the present conditions. But now I
had a morale situation that could explode in mutiny at the first blunder
on my part.
I knew that Kramer was the focal point of the trouble. He was my
senior staff officer, and carried a great deal of weight in the Officer's

Mess. As a medic, he knew most of the crew better than I. I thought I
knew Kramer's driving motive, too. He had always been a great success
with the women. When he had volunteered for the mission he had
doubtless pictured himself as quite a romantic hero, off on a noble but
hopeless quest. Now, after four years in deep space, he was beginning
to realize that he was getting no younger, and that at best he would
have spent a decade of his prime in monastic seclusion. He wanted to
go back now, and salvage what he could.
It was incredible to me that this movement could have gathered
followers, but I had to face the fact; my crew almost to a man had given
up the search before it was well begun. I had heard the first rumors only
a few weeks before, but the idea had spread through the crew like
wildfire. Now, I couldn't afford drastic action, or risk forcing a blowup
by arresting ringleaders. I had to baby the situation along with an easy
hand and hope for good news from the Survey Section. A likely find
now would save us.
There was still every reason to hope for success in our search. To date
all had gone according to plan. We had followed the route of Omega as
far as it had been charted, and then gone on, studying the stars ahead
for evidence of planets. We had made our first finds early in the fourth
year of the voyage. It had been a long tedious time since then of study
and observation, eliminating one world after another as too massive,
too cold, too close to a blazing primary, too small to hold an
atmosphere. In all we had discovered twelve planets, of four suns. Only
one had looked good enough for close observation. We had moved in
to televideo range before realizing it was an all-sea world.
Now we had five new main-sequence suns ahead within six months'
range. I hoped for a confirmation on a planet at any time. To turn back
now to a world that had pinned its last hopes on our success was
unthinkable, yet this was Kramer's plan, and that of his followers. They
would not prevail while I lived. Still it was not my plan to be a party to
our failure through martyrdom. I intended to stay alive and carry
through to success. I dozed lightly and waited.
* * * * *

I awoke when they tried the door. It had swung open a few inches at the
touch of the one who had tried it, not expecting it to be unlatched. It
stood ajar now, the pale light from the