This World Must Die! | Page 7

up a couple of torpedoes. I hope those rocket
blasts didn't give us away."
"According to Varret," said Truesdale, "there can't be many of them
still able to think straight enough to stand on watch. I wonder what it's
like...."
Phillips glanced askance at him, but led the way into the corridor. First
of all, he stopped at the rocket room to check the tube readings. The
fired jets had been automatically recharged.
* * * * *
They left the rocket room and climbed the ladder to the turret. Once
inside, Phillips spent the first few minutes inspecting the equipment

and thumbing through the manuals left there by Varret. Finally, the
bored Truesdale broke in upon his study.
"That old goat must be crazy to think he could toss us out here and
have us act like a trained crew. How can we even hope to do anything
right, without blowing ourselves up?"
"We can try," said Phillips coldly. "It shouldn't be impossible to get one
started, at least."
He found the twin control panels in the bulkhead, and pulled a pair of
switches. There was a smooth humming and a slight click as two
hatches in the deck slid open. Slanting metal chutes rose out of the dark
apertures, just behind the conveyor belts.
"Look at those babies!" breathed Phillips.
The snouts of two miniature spaceships protruded from the storage hold.
Phillips touched other switches, and the sleek missiles were prodded
onto the belts and moved forward until the full, twenty-foot lengths
were in view.
"Phillips, you better be careful with those things!" quavered Truesdale
as the engineer unscrewed a small hatch on one.
"Afraid I'll blow it up?" asked Phillips, peering inside.
"Why not? You never touched one before."
"You go ahead and believe that," retorted the engineer. "Now, I'll just
turn on the radio controls, check the batteries, and feed the bad news
into the launching tubes. Watch!"
Replacing the hatch and securing it, he thought out the procedure to use
at the remote control panels. Turning on the screen above one of them
produced a cross-haired image of the bulkhead directly in front of the
near torpedo. He tried various manipulations until he had focused the
view and caused it to sweep all around the interior of the turret. After

idly watching himself and Truesdale appear on the screen, he returned
the view to dead ahead, switched it off, and turned to the other panel.
"I guess I can finish checking," he said.
Truesdale clambered hastily down the ladder. Phillips shook his head.
"Don't know what use he'll be," he muttered. "Too bad Brecken
wouldn't listen. He at least ... oh, well!"
He wondered whether he himself would stand up when the time came.
What Varret had asked did not sound like much. Just a quick shot and
watch them blow apart. What inhibitions made men black out rather
than carry it through? It was not as if there were any hope for these
people. Surely, it was obvious that to permit them, in their deranged
state, to spread a catastrophic plague was inconceivable. But perhaps
emotions were stronger than reason.
"I'll find out pretty soon," he reflected.
There was little more to do in the turret, except to run the torpedoes
into the launching tubes and bring up a new pair in reserve. With that
much done, he closed the hatch and climbed down the ladder.
* * * * *
In the control room, he found Donna and Truesdale peering into the
screen. He crowded close to look over their shoulders. A small blob of
light floated near the center of the view. "That it?" he asked.
"Yes," answered Donna. "Just enough Mars-light to show it."
"How near are we?" asked Phillips.
"About a hundred and fifty miles. I have quite a large magnification,
but they may spot us if they're alert. Are you ready to ... do
something?"
"Reasonably," said Phillips. "Where's Brecken?"

"You probably killed him!" Truesdale broke in accusingly.
"I found a first-aid kit and gave him a shot," said Donna. "He has a
nasty lump on the head, but he might sleep it off."
Phillips was watching Truesdale. The youth was visibly nervous. Was
it the thought of Brecken, the engineer wondered, or fear of what they
were planning to do? Perhaps it would be best to clear the air now,
before it was too late.
"I guess you can handle it here, Donna," he said. "Truesdale and I will
go to the turret and stand by."
The youth shrank away. "No! I won't go up there again! You can't
make me do this!"
"Do what?" demanded Phillips.
"It's murder! You both know it is! They won't even have any warning."
"I hope not," said Phillips drily. "They might get us!"
"You