Twelve from Tomorrow by E C Tubb

Author:E C Tubb [Tubb, E C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Venture Press
Published: 2016-01-13T05:00:00+00:00

GREATER THAN INFINITY

THE ship was small, a glinting sliver of polished alloy falling from the immensity of space, shimmering blue with irregular pulsations, grinding to a halt with an angry gush of orange. Engines died. Small sounds ceased. The vibrant song of power faded and left only inert metal and cold plastic, the compartments echoing only to the booted feet of men.

‘Planetfall.’ Sam Judson flipped a switch with a disgusted gesture. ‘Everybody happy?’

‘We’re alive,’ reminded Paul Hendricks. John Weston, the third man, snorted his reception of the news.

‘For how long? Or are you thinking of making repairs?’

‘Could we?’

‘Sure — given plenty of time, a complete workshop, unlimited resources and the technical know-how we haven’t got.’ Weston scowled at the instrument dials. He was a tall, thin, sour-faced man and scowling was his natural expression. ‘Only we haven’t got plenty of time so it’s no good wishing for the other things. This is the end, Paul. Finish!’

Put like that it sounded unreal. They still had air, food, water, heat and protection, but those things wouldn’t last: they were merely a temporary reprieve. It would have been better had the engines disrupted while they were in space or the ship shattered itself during landing. That way would have been quick and clean and final. Now. because they were human and cursed with all that entailed, they would fight until the last even though knowing any effort would be useless.

Sam Judson looked up from his seat, saw John’s scowl, Paul’s numb despair, and tried to be optimistic.

‘Don’t bury us too soon, John. We don’t know if it’s hopeless.’

‘Nothing is ever quite beyond hope,’ agreed Weston. ‘That is the creed of the optimist — and the fool. I have yet to discover that blind hope has ever altered the probability factors governing any situation. It is far more dignified to accept the inevitable.’

Sam rose from his seat in a single, fluid motion which revealed his strength. He stretched, took a deep breath, then shrugged.

‘You could be right,’ he said. ‘On the face of it you are. But the philosophy of despair has never held any attraction for me. Let’s find out the extent of the damage before we decide to hold a wake.’

It was, as they had known all along, about as bad as it could be. The engines, delicately tuned pieces of precision machinery, were ruined beyond repair. With their death had died the power which made the ship a thing of humming life. They had some emergency power, the means to remain alive for a short while, and that was all. Back in the control room they held, not a wake, but a post mortem.

‘The ship was in a perfect condition when we left Albabair.’ Paul was emphatic on that point. It was his responsibility, his emphasis was only natural.

‘We were on course.’ John was the navigator. ‘A routine hop, we’ve done the same thing a thousand times before.’ Both men looked at Judson.

‘The flight was optimum,’ he said. ‘No overload, no leakage, no feedback.

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