Rocket Ship Galileo (25 page)

“Murder,” put in Cargraves.

“—in defense of the security of the Reich,” von Hartwick went on unhurriedly, “and no concern of yours in any case. It was in my own ship, entirely out of jurisdiction of any silly laws of the corrupt democracies. As for the bombing of your ship, I have explained to you—”

“Shut up,” Cargraves said. “You’ll get a chance to say a few words later. Court’s in session. Just to get it straight in your head, this entire planet is subject to the laws of the United Nations. We took formal possession and have established a permanent base. Therefore—”

“Too late, Judge Lynch. The New Reich claimed this planet three months ago.”

“I told you to keep quiet. You’re in contempt of court. One more peep and we’ll think up a way to keep you quiet. Therefore, as the master of a vessel registered under the laws of the United Nations it is my duty to see that those laws are obeyed. Your so-called claim doesn’t hold water. There isn’t any New Reich, so it can’t claim anything. You and your fellow thugs aren’t a nation; you are merely gangsters. We aren’t bound to recognize any fictions you have thought up and we don’t. Morrie! Bring me another sandwich.”

“Coming up, Captain!”

“Now as master of the
Galileo
,” Cargraves went on, “I have to act for the government when I’m off by myself, as I am now. Since I haven’t time to take you back to earth for trial, I’m trying you now. Two charges: murder in the first degree and piracy.”

“Piracy? My dear fellow!”

“Piracy. You attacked a vessel of UN register. On your own admission you took part in it, whether you gave the orders or not. All members of a pirate crew are equally guilty, and it’s a capital offense. Murder in the first degree is another one. Thanks for the sandwich, Morrie. Where did you find fresh bread?”

“It was canned.”

“Clever, these Nazis. There was some doubt in my mind as to whether to charge you with first or second degree. But you had to grab the gun away from me first, before you could shoot your pal. That’s premeditation. So you’re charged—piracy and first-degree murder. How do you plead? Guilty or not guilty?”

Von Hartwick hesitated a bit before replying. “Since I do not admit the jurisdiction of this so-called court, I refuse to enter a plea. Even if I concede—which I don’t—that you honestly believe this to be United Nations territory, you still are not a court.”

“A ship’s master has very broad powers in an emergency. Look it up some time. Get a ouija board and look it up.”

Von Hartwick raised his eyebrows. “From the nature of that supposedly humorous remark I can see that I am convicted before the trial starts.”

Cargraves chewed reflectively. “In a manner of speaking, yes,” he conceded. “I’d like to give you a jury, but we don’t really need one. You see, there aren’t any facts to be established because there aren’t any facts in doubt. We were all there. The only question is: What do those facts constitute under the law? This is your chance to speak your piece if you intend to.”

“Why should I bother? You mongrel nations prate of justice and equality under law. But you don’t practice it. You stand there with your hands dripping with the blood of my comrades, whom you killed in cold blood, without giving them a chance—yet you speak to me of piracy and murder!”

“We discussed that once before,” Cargraves answered carefully. “There is a world of difference, under the laws of free men, between an unprovoked attack and striking back in your own defense. If a footpad assaults you in a dark alley, you don’t have to get a court order to fight back. Next. Got any more phony excuses?”

The Nazi was silent. “Go ahead,” Cargraves persisted. “You could still plead not guilty by reason of insanity and you might even convince me. I always have thought a man with a MasterRace complex was crazy as a hoot owl. You might convince me that you were crazy in a legal sense as well.”

For the first time, von Hartwick’s air of aloof superiority seemed to crack. His face got red and he appeared about to explode. Finally he regained a measure of control and said, “Let’s have no more of this farce. Do whatever it is you intend to do and quit playing with me.”

“I assure you that I am not playing. Have you anything more to say in your own defense?”

“No!”

“I find you guilty on both charges. Have you anything to say before sentence is passed?”

The accused did not deign to answer.

“Very well. I sentence you to death.”

Art took a quick, gasping breath and backed out of the doorway where he had been huddled, wide-eyed, with Ross and Morrie. There was no other sound.

“Have you anything to say before the sentence is executed?”

Von Hartwick turned his face away. “I am not sorry. At least I will have a quick and merciful death. The best you four swine can hope for is a slow and lingering death.”

“Oh,” said Cargraves, “I intended to explain to you about that. We aren’t going to die.”

“You think not?” There was undisguised triumph in von Hartwick’s voice.

“I’m sure of it. You see, the
Thor
arrives in six or seven days—”

“
What?
How did you find that out?” The Nazi seemed stunned for a moment, then muttered, “Not that it matters…four of you—but I see why you decided to kill me. You were afraid I would escape you.”

“Not at all,” returned Cargraves. “You don’t understand. If it were practical to do so, I would take you back to earth to let you appeal your case before a higher court. Not for your sake—you’re guilty as sin!—but for my own. However, I do not find it possible. We will be very busy until the
Thor
gets here and I have no means of making sure that you are securely imprisoned except by standing guard over you every minute. I can’t do that; we haven’t time enough. But I don’t intend to let you escape punishment. I don’t have a cell to put you in. I had intended to drain the fuel from your little rocket and put you in there, without a suit. That way, you would have been safe to leave alone while we worked. But, now that the
Thor
is coming, we will need the little rocket.”

Von Hartwick smiled grimly. “Think you can run away, eh? That ship will never take you home. Or haven’t you found that out yet?”

“You still don’t understand. Keep quiet and let me explain. We are going to take several of the bombs such as you used on the
Galileo
and blow up the room containing your guided missiles. It’s a shame, for I see it’s one of the rooms built by the original inhabitants. Then we are going to blow up the
Wotan
.”

“The
Wotan
? Why?” Von Hartwick was suddenly very alert.

“To make sure it never flies back to earth. We can’t operate it; I must make sure that no one else does. For then we intend to blow up the
Thor
.”

“The
Thor
? You can’t blow up the
Thor
!”

“Oh, yes, we can—the same way you blew up the
Galileo
. But I can’t chance the possibility of survivors grabbing the
Wotan
—so she must go first. And that has a strong bearing on why you must die at once. After we blast the
Wotan
we are going back to our own base—you didn’t know about that, did you?—but it is only one room. No place for prisoners. I had intended, as I said, to keep you in the jeep rocket, but the need to blast the
Thor
changes that. We’ll have to keep a pilot in it all times, until the
Thor
lands. And that leaves no place for you. Sorry,” he finished, and smiled.

“Anything wrong with it?” he added.

Von Hartwick was beginning to show the strain. “You may succeed—”

“Oh, we will!”

“But if you do, you are still dead men. A quick death for me, but a long and slow and lingering death for you. If you blast the
Thor
, you lose your own last chance. Think of it,” he went on, “starving or suffocating or dying with cold. I’ll make a pact with you. Turn me loose now and I’ll give you my parole. When the
Thor
arrives, I’ll intercede with the captain on your behalf. I’ll—”

Cargraves cut him off with a gesture. “The word of a Nazi! You wouldn’t intercede for your own grandmother! You haven’t gotten it through your thick head yet that we hold all the aces. After we kill you and take care of your friends, we shall sit tidy and cozy and warm, with plenty of food and air, until we are picked up. We won’t even be lonesome; we were just finishing our earth sender when you picked up one of our local signals. We’ll—”

“You lie!” shouted von Hartwick. “No one will pick you up. Yours was the only ship. I know, I know. We had full reports.”

“
Was
the only ship.” Cargraves smiled sweetly. “But under a quaint old democratic law which you wouldn’t understand, the plans and drawings and notes for my ship were being studied eagerly the minute we took off. We’ll be able to take our pick of ships before long. I hate to disappoint you but we are going to live. I am afraid I must disappoint you on another score. Your death will not be as clean and pleasant as you had hoped.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I am not going to get this ship all bloodied up again by shooting you. I’m going to—”

“Wait. A dying man is entitled to a last request. Leave me in the
Wotan
. Let me die with my ship!”

Cargraves laughed full in his face. “Lovely, von Nitwit. Perfectly lovely. And have you take off in her. Not likely!”

“I am no pilot—believe me!”

“Oh, I do believe. I would not think of doubting a dying man’s last words. But I won’t risk a mistake. Ross!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Take this thing and throw it out on the face of the moon.”

“Dee-lighted!”

“And that’s all.” Cargraves had been squatting down; he got up and brushed the crumbs from his hands. “I shan’t even have you untied so that you can die in a comfortable position. You are too handy at grabbing guns. You’ll just have to flop around as you are. It probably won’t take long,” he went on conversationally. “They say it’s about like drowning. In seven or eight minutes you won’t know a thing. Unless your heart ruptures through your lungs and finishes you a little sooner.”

“Swine!”

“
Captain
Swine, to you.”

Ross was busily zipping his suit into place. “Okay, Doc?”

“Go ahead. No, on second thought,” he added, “I’ll do this job myself. I might be criticized for letting a boy touch it. My suit, Morrie.”

He whistled as they helped him dress. He was still whistling as he picked up von Hartwick like a satchel, by the line which bound his ankles to his wrists, and walked briskly to the lock. He chucked his bundle in ahead of him, stepped in, waved to the boys, said, “Back soon!” and clamped the door.

As the air started whistling out von Hartwick began to gasp. Cargraves smiled at him, and said, “Drafty, isn’t it?” He shouted to make himself heard through the helmet.

Von Hartwick’s mouth worked.

“Did you say something?”

The Nazi opened his mouth again, gasped, choked, and sprayed foam out on his chest. “You’ll have to talk louder,” Cargraves shouted. “I can’t hear you.” The air whistled away.

“
I’m a pilot!
”

“What?”

“
I’m a pilot! I’ll teach you
—”

Cargraves reached up and closed the exhaust valve. “I can’t hear with all that racket. What were you saying?”

“I’m a pilot!” gasped von Hartwick.

“Yes? Well, what about it?”

“Air. Give me air—”

“Shucks,” said Cargraves. “You’ve got plenty of air. I can still hear you talking. Must be four or five pounds in here.”

“Give me air. I’ll tell you how it works.”

“You’ll tell me
first
,” Cargraves stated. He reached for the exhaust valve again.

“Wait! There is a little plug, in the back of the instrument—” He paused and gasped heavily. “The instrument panel. Starboard side. It’s a safety switch. You wouldn’t notice it; it looks just like a mounting stud. You push it in.” He stopped to wheeze again.

“I think you’d better come show me,” Cargraves said judicially. “If you aren’t lying again, you’ve given me an out to take you back to earth for your appeal. Not that you deserve it.”

He reached over and yanked on the spill valve; the air rushed back into the lock.

Ten minutes later Cargraves was seated in the left-hand pilot’s chair, with his safety belt in place. Von Hartwick was in the right-hand chair. Cargraves held a pistol in his left hand and cradled it over the crook of his right arm, so that it would remain pointed at von Hartwick, even under drive. He called out,

“Morrie! Everybody ready?”

“Ready, Captain,” came faintly from the rear of the ship. The boys had been forced to use the acceleration bunks in the passenger compartment. They resented it, especially Morrie, but there was no help for it. The control room could carry just two people under acceleration.

“Okay! Here we go!” He turned again to von Hartwick. “Twist her tail, Swine—Colonel Swine, I mean.”

Von Hartwick glared at him. “I don’t believe,” he said slowly, “that you ever intended to go through with it.”

Cargraves grinned and rubbed the chair arm. “Want to go back and see?” he inquired.

Von Hartwick swiveled his head around to the front. “
Achtung!
” he shouted. “Prepare for acceleration! Ready—” Without waiting for a reply he blasted off.

The ship had power to spare with the light load; Cargraves had him hold it at two
g
’s for five minutes and then go free. By that time, having accelerated at nearly 64 feet per second for each second of the five minutes, even with due allowance for loss of one-sixth
g
to the pull of the moon at the start, they were making approximately 12,000 miles per hour.

They would have breezed past earth in twenty hours had it not been necessary to slow down in order to land. Cargraves planned to do it in a little less than twenty-four hours.

Once in free fall, the boys came forward and Cargraves required of von Hartwick a detailed lecture on the operation of the craft. When he was satisfied, he said, “Okay. Ross, you and Art take the prisoner aft and lash him to one of the bunks. Then strap yourselves down. Morrie and I are going to practice.”