This World Must Die! | Page 3

"Why not?" asked Phillips.

"The crews found they could not kill!"
"What?"
"It amounts to that. One pilot blacked out at the start of an offensive
approach. He lost contact before recovering--you realize how quickly
that happens at interplanetary speeds. On several other ships, there
were passive mutinies. One was destroyed; how, we do not know."
"Why don't you get some men in your Department of Security?"
sneered Brecken.
Varret sighed. "It was far from simple cowardice. The crews had fine
records. We have been civilized too long, so long that the idea of
deliberate killing unnerved them. As to the one ship that did make
some motion to attack, it may have been destroyed by the cruiser's
defenses, or even by sabotage. Somebody may quite possibly have
found the mission too repulsive to face with complete sanity."
He was interrupted by a uniformed man, who slid the door open and
gestured significantly. Varret paused. He nodded, and the newcomer
retired.
"I have only a few minutes," said the old man, facing them again. "To
be brief, this patrol vessel is armed with the best we have in guided
atomic missiles and sensitive detection devices. Technical manuals are
supplied for everything we could think of, though I doubt you will need
them. We have brought you to within a few hundred miles of them.
"In a few minutes, my men and I will transfer to an escort ship. We will
slip in behind Deimos, not too far away, and pick you up afterward to
land you on Mars. Any questions?"
"Yes," said Phillips.
"What?"
"Why should we do anything at all?"

Varret's lips tightened. A guard shrugged contemptuously. "I was told
to expect that attitude," the old man admitted. "I suppose it is part of
the character we now think is needed for such an expedition."
"You could hardly expect co-operation," Phillips pointed out. "Laws
against any kind of homicide are all well enough, but I for one don't see
why I should draw the same sentence as a murderer. I had to protect
myself or die--probably through having that crazy fool blow up my
rocket room."
"You'll make a cold landing on Sol before you'll get any help from
me!" Brecken added defiantly.
The girl said nothing, but Truesdale muttered darkly.
"Please!" said Varret. "I have no time to argue about our social and
legal codes. The Council foresaw that the threat of being yourselves
subject to this plague might not be enough. If you succeed in
destroying or even immobilizing the cruiser, I can offer you anything
you want short of unsupervised liberty. You must still be watched as
potential dangers to society, but you may otherwise be as wealthy or
independent as you wish."
He motioned to the guards, who had begun to fidget impatiently;
wordlessly they left the compartment.
"You can settle your relations among yourselves," said Varret. "We
chose Bailey partly because she has piloted rockets privately, and
Phillips because he was a space engineer. Perhaps Brecken could
handle the torpedoes--I do not know." He rubbed his chin uneasily.
"Frankly, I find intimate discussion of the affair repulsive. I hope you
will decide to do what is necessary for the welfare of Earth."
He turned abruptly and left the control room. They heard distant voices
exhorting him to hurry.

[Illustration: 2]

Brecken arose and crept furtively to the door. He leaned out to peer
down the corridor. The nervous Truesdale bounced up to crowd behind
him. Phillips and the girl looked at each other; she shrugged, and they
too got to their feet. She turned to the instrument panels; and after a
moment, Phillips joined her.
"How have they got it?" he asked. "Controls locked?"
"No," murmured Donna. "Don't need to; we're just coasting. Nice job,
though. Fast as a racer, I imagine."
"You know something about racers?"
"I used to think I did," she answered, shortly.
He saw pain darken her blue eyes and decided to probe no further.
Instead, he wandered about, inspecting the instruments. A few minutes
later, with a spaceman's indefinable alertness, he felt a change in the
ship.
"They still aboard?" he called to Truesdale, who remained at the door
although Brecken had disappeared.
The youth glanced over his shoulder but did not trouble to reply.
Phillips' jaw set, and he took a quick step toward the other. Before he
reached the doorway, however, Brecken returned from the corridor.
Shouldering Truesdale aside, he strode into the control room. "Well,"
he announced, "the old fool hopped off like he said. Got a viewer in
here?"
"I have it on now," called Donna from the instrument desk. "There he
goes."
They gathered around the screen to watch. Near one edge was the
image of another ship, with several spacesuited figures clustered
around its entrance