A. van Vogt - The Voyage of the Space Beagle

The remark seemed to stun most of those in the room. Abruptly, several men tried to speak at once. They spluttered into angry silence.

It was Captain Leeth who said, finally, in a measured tone, “Mr. Grosvenor, I cannot accept your unsupported claim.”

Kent said satirically, “Well, gentlemen, we now have Mr. Grosvenor’s true opinion of us.”

He seemed unconcerned with the insult itself. His manner was one of ironic good humour. He seemed to have forgotten that he had a duty as Acting Director to maintain an atmosphere of dignity and courtesy.

Meader, head of the botany subsection, reminded him angrily, “Mr. Kent, I do not see how you can tolerate such an insolent remark.”

“That’s right,” said Grosvenor, “stand up for your rights. The whole universe is in deadly danger, but your sense of dignity must be maintained.”

McCann spoke for the first time, uneasily. “Korita, if there were a kind of entity out there such as Grosvenor has described, how would that fit in with cyclic history?”

The archaeologist shook his head unhappily. “Very tenuously, I’m afraid. We could postulate a primitive life form.” He looked around the room. “I am far more concerned with the evidences of the reality of cyclic history among my friends. Pleasure in the defeat of a man who has made us feel a little uneasy because of his achievements. The suddenly revealed egomania of that man.” He gazed regretfully up at Grosvenor’s image. “Mr. Grosvenor, I am very disappointed that you have seen fit to make the statements that you have.”

“Mr. Korita,” said Grosvenor soberly, “if I had adopted any other course than the one I have actually pursued you would not even have had the privilege of hearing me tell these honourable gentlemen — many of whom I admire as individuals — what I have told them, and what I have still to say.”

“I feel confident,” said Korita, “that the members of this expedition will do what is necessary, regardless of personal sacrifice.”

“It’s hard to believe that,” said Grosvenor. “I feel that many of them were influenced by the fact that my plan would require five extra years in space. I confess it’s a cruel necessity, but I assure you there is no alternative.”

He broke off, curtly. “Actually, I expected this outcome, and prepared for it.” He addressed himself to the group as a whole. “Gentlemen, you have compelled me to take an action which, I assure you, I regret more than I can ever say. Here is my ultimatum.”

“Ultimatum!” That was Kent, surprised, suddenly pale.

Grosvenor ignored him. “If by 1000 hours tomorrow my plan has not been accepted, I take over the ship. Everybody aboard will find himself doing what I order whether he likes it or not. Naturally, I expect that the scientists aboard will pool their knowledge in an attempt to prevent my carrying out such a stated purpose. Resistance, however, will be useless.”

The uproar that began then was still going on when Grosvenor broke the connection between his communicator and the control room.

It was about an hour after the meeting when Grosvenor received a call on his communicator from McCann.

“I’d like to come up,” said the geologist.

Grosvenor was cheerful. “Come along.”

McCann looked doubtful. “I’m assuming you have the corridor booby-trapped.”

“We-e-l-11, yes, I suppose you could call it that,” Grosvenor agreed, “but you’ll not be troubled.”

“Suppose I came with the secret intention of assassinating you?”

“Here in my rooms,” said Grosvenor with a positiveness which he hoped would impress any listeners-in, “you couldn’t even kill me with a club.”

McCann hesitated, then said, “I’ll be right up!” He broke the connection.

He must have been very near, for it was less than a minute later that the hidden corridor detectors began to report his approach. Presently, his head and shoulders flashed across a communicator plate, and a relay switch closed into position. Since it was part of an automatic defence process, Grosvenor deactivated it manually.

A few seconds later, McCann came through the open door. He paused on the threshold and then came forward shaking his head.

“I was worried there. Despite your reassurance, I had the feeling that batteries of weapons were pointing at me. And yet I saw nothing.” He looked searchingly into Grosvenor’s face. “Are you pulling a bluff?”

Grosvenor said slowly, “I’m a little worried myself. Don, you’ve shaken my faith in your integrity. I honestly didn’t expect you to come up here carrying a bomb.”

McCann looked blank. “But I’m not. If your instruments show any such—” He stopped. He took off his coat. He began to search himself. Suddenly, his movements slowed. His face was pale as he brought up a wafer-thin grey object about two inches long. “What is it?” he asked.

“A stabilized plutonium alloy.”

“Atomic!”

“No, it’s not radioactive, not as it is. But it can be dissolved into a radioactive gas by the beam from a high-frequency transmitter. The gas would give us both radiation burns.”

“Grove, I swear to you that I knew nothing of this.”

“Did you tell anyone you were coming?”

“Naturally. This whole part of the ship is blocked off.”

“In other words, you had to get permission?”

“Yes. From Kent.”

Grosvenor hesitated, then said, “I want you to think hard about this. At any time during the interview with Kent did you feel that the room was hot?”

“W-why, yes. I remember now. I had the feeling that I was going to suffocate.”

“How long did that last?”

“A second or so.”

“Hmmm, that means you were out probably ten minutes.”

“Out?” McCann was scowling. “Well, I’ll be damned. That little wretch drugged me.”

“I could probably find out for sure just how much of a dose you were given.” Grosvenor spoke deliberately. “A blood test would do it.”

“I wish you’d make it. That would prove—”

Grosvenor shook his head. “It would only prove that you actually underwent such an experience. It wouldn’t prove that you didn’t do so willingly. Far more convincing to me is the fact that no man in his right senses would permit plutonium alloy Pua-72 to be dissolved in his presence. According to my automatic nullifiers, they’ve been trying to dissolve it now for at least a minute.”

McCann was white. “Grove, I’m through with that vulture. I admit I was in a state of conflict, and I agreed to report to him the result of my conversation with you — but I intended to warn you that I had to make such a report.”

Grosvenor smiled. “It’s all right, Don. I believe you. Sit down.”

“What about this?” McCann held out the small metal “bomb.”

Grosvenor took it and carried it to the little vault he had for his radioactive material. He came back and seated himself. He said, “I imagine there’ll be an attack. The only way Kent could justify to the others what he’s done is to make sure that we are rescued in time for us to be given medical treatment for radioactive bums.”

He finished. “We can watch it in that plate.”

The attack registered first on several electronic detectors of the electric-eye type. Faint lights flashed on a wall instrument board, and a buzzer sounded.

They saw the attackers presently as images on the large plate above the instruments. About a dozen men in space suits rounded a distant corner and approached along the corridor. Grosvenor recognized von Grossen and two of his assistants from the physics department, four chemists, of whom two were from the biochemistry division, three of Gourlay’s communications experts, and two weapon officers. Three soldiers brought up the rear, riding, respectively, a mobile vibrator, a mobile heat gun, and a large gas-bomb dispenser.