The Sun Saboteurs by Damon Knight

Author:Damon Knight [Knight, Damon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Life on Other Planets
Publisher: Ace Books
Published: 1961-07-14T23:00:00+00:00

V

The Armageddon had the stink of an old ship, too long out of planetary. She was rusty and corroded, and one of her four McMichaels propulsion units was badly out of phase. Spanner did what he could, with profanity and barked knuckles, but it was not enough. When the ship came out of overdrive in the Torkas system, ten days from New Earth, she lurched underfoot and rang like a brazen gong.

De Grasse, who had a hangover, caught himself by the edge of the chart table and swore. Emergency bells were ringing down the companionway in the control blister: the strain had parted seams again, and they were leaking air. De Grasse ignored the bells, and the whisper of running feet going past the chart room, to read the displays on his own board.

They had emerged into normal space well within the orbit of Torkas, some twenty billion miles from the G-type sun, and about ten degrees above the ecliptic. De Grasse took his readings and fed them into the scarred old computer, which whirred, chattered, and spat out a tape.

"All stations report," said Rack's cold voice on the intercom.

"Damage control, patching leaks," said May Wong promptly. "Five minutes, Larry."

"Engine room, building potential. Two minutes," Spanner's voice growled.

De Grasse palmed his plate. "Astrogator, it's on the tape."

"Fire control, we are arming. Ten minutes."

"Ultraphone, signal coming through from Torkas Orbital I, Commander."

Rack said nothing. Out of curiosity, De Grasse tuned his own ultraphone to the frequency Sparks was receiving. On the screen a squat, blue-black amphiboid shape came into view. The inhuman features were working, and speech came out of the speaker—Galactic Standard—with such a blubbery accent that De Grasse could barely make out a word. Presumably the thing was asking them to identify themselves. The voice stopped, then the screen flashed red for a second and a bell rang, and the voice began again.

"Belay that ultraphone!" Rack's voice snapped.

De Grasse turned the receiver off. The ship's own emergency bells were falling silent, one by one; as they died, he could begin to hear the creaking in the ribs as the old ship balanced her strains. The chronometer clicked off a minute, then another.

"Engine room, on the green."

"Acknowledged."

The chronometer moved steadily on. De Grasse had nothing to do but sit and hold himself in readiness. Under his feet and a hundred yards to the stern, Barnes and the gunner's mate would be in the improvised bomb blister, sweating over the long, delicate task of arming the bomb. De Grasse was tinglingly aware of them down there, invisible and inaudible, but he could feel them with his skin. And all over the ship, he knew, crew members would be sitting at their stations, listening and waiting. They had crippled themselves, torn out the old fire-control center and made the Armageddon's cannon useless, just to make room for that one tremendous weapon.

To take his mind off it, he read his instruments again and animated the visual-analog display. Krell, the Torkas sun, had seven major planets, four inhabited.

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