Zach Hughes: Pressure Man

Jensen was surprisingly strong. Once the gun exploded inches away from Dom’s ear, leaving his ear ringing with the concussion. With a climactic effort, he pinned the gun hand to the deck. Jensen landed a blow and Dom saw stars for a moment as his nose flattened and started spewing blood. Jensen pulled free, leaving the gun on the floor. Dom got to his feet. Jensen was standing by the control panel.

“Make a move, Gordon,” Jensen panted, “and the whole ship goes.” He had his hand on the manual drive control. “I’ve got the safeties bypassed. I can overload the plant and she’ll become a real bomb.”

“You’ll die with the rest of us,” Dom said.

“I don’t want anyone to die.”

“What do you want?”

“A couple of hours. Just long enough to empty the hold.”

“Why is that so damned important?” Dom asked. “Are you crazy, too?”

“Why? Because the whole system is corrupt,” Jensen said. “Because it’s time for a change.”

“You’ve blown your cover for nothing, Paul,” Dom said. “But then I’ve always thought Firsters were crazy.”

“You’re the stupid one,” Paul said. “Now listen. I don’t want to die, not now that we’re winning, but I will if necessary. I want you to walk slowly over there, pick up the gun by the barrel, and hand it to me.”

“May I say something first?”

“Make it quick.”

“Paul, I don’t give a damn if you empty the hold. Can you believe that? I couldn’t care less. I’m not about to die just to try to save a sample of Jupiter’s atmosphere. It would be interesting to analyze it, but I don’t want to die either, and especially not for scientific curiosity. So do me a favor and don’t panic, huh? Don’t do anything silly. You’re probably right when you say you’re winning. Once this ship gets back she’ll probably never go into space again. J.J. did more to kill space than all of you Firsters have done in fifty years. When you take over the country, you should give J.J. a medal. The point is, the damage is done. Let’s all go home together, huh?”

“Do as I say, then.”

“All right. I’m moving slow and easy. No tricks.” He picked up the gun and began to straighten.

“One quick move and I’ll blow her,” Jensen said.

“Yes, I know,” Dom said. “I’m moving slow.” He walked very slowly, holding the gun by its muzzle in front of him. Jensen watched nervously, licking his lips. He kept one hand on the lever which, if he really had bypassed the safeties, would send the drive into a cataclysm which would make the Kennedy into a small temporary star.

“Here it is,” he said. “Take it.” Jensen looked down, leaned slightly forward. Off balance, he’d have to make two moves to throw the level to full on. No man alive could make two moves while Dom was making one. Dom flipped the gun, caught it, and triggered it, even as Jensen saw and tried to recover. The charge took Jensen’s hand off at the wrist, the bloody stump completing the move which would have killed them all. Jensen’s mouth opened to scream. The sound began, and in his shock and pain he showed good training, for his other arm reached for the lever, almost contacted the lever before Dom’s second shot took him full in the face. There was no need for a third shot.

Dom stood for a moment, looking down to see that death was not instantaneous. The creature writhing in terminal pain no longer looked like a man.

Dom made a quick survey of the venting board. Only a fraction of the cargo had been dumped. He closed the vents and began checking to see if Jensen had really bypassed the safeties on the drive. The door opened, and Neil and J.J. rushed in.

“We’re OK,” Dom said. “Just don’t try to add power until we’ve done some repairs.”

“What happened?” Neil asked.

“He was dumping J.J.’s Jovian soup,” Dom said. “He was a Firster.”

With a cry of alarm, J.J. leaped to the venting board, checking the contents of the hold. When he saw that only a small part of the cargo was gone, he said, “I owe you again, Flash.”

“I didn’t do it to save your soup,” Dom said. “I did it because I was not about to leave my life and the lives of the others in the hands of a nut.”

“You’ll get that promotion, Flash,” J.J. said.

“Go go hell,” Dom said. “You and Art clean this up.” He indicated the body. “I’ll help Neil make repairs.”

Ellen pitched in and was not a bad hand with a tool. The work gave Dom something to take his mind off J.J.’s madness. When they were finished, several hours later, he was tired and dirty and wanted a bath and ten hours’ sleep. He was almost into the second half of the program when J.J. came in, uninvited.

“Jensen is in cold storage. There’ll be an inquiry when we get home.”

Dom nodded.

“I’ve spent some time in the galley, Flash.”

Dom sat up. J.J. extended a tray from a server which had been concealed behind him. Dom took a cup of coffee.

“Sugar, cream?” J.J. asked politely.

Dom shook his head.

“Try this with it,” J.J. said, lifting the top of a silver server. On the tray inside were small pieces of something which looked very much like butter.

“What is it?”

“Just try it.” J.J. picked up a small piece and popped it into his mouth.

Dom picked up a piece and looked at it. It had a slightly grainy texture. It had the spongy feel of a good, rich bread. He nibbled it tentatively, then took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. It was unlike anything he’d ever eaten. It had a wholesome, hearty taste, a pleasing richness.

“Do you want to listen to me for a minute now, Flash?” J J. asked, grinning broadly.

“J.J.,” Dom said, “I have to admit that you have my full attention.”

Carbohydrates are not the most healthful of foods, when taken as a major portion of the diet, but a hungry man doesn’t concern himself with nutrition, only with filling his belly. Carbohydrates are easily utilized by the body. They can supply a quick burst of energy, especially if rich in sugars. The blood sugar level rises immediately, and the eater feels a surge of energy.

Rationing was necessary at first, but, when added to the dwindling store of food stocks under the control of the government, the tons of carbohydrates which were ferried from the moon to Earthside turned the tide in the battle for the stomachs of the people.

At first, not too much care was taken about sanitation. Foodstuff was being delivered to fighting men on short rations and to civilians who didn’t care too much about cleanliness, as long as the roughly carved chunks tasted good.

Later, as the country began to come back to normal and the forces of the Shaw Alliance were gradually pushed back into southern California and exterminated ruthlessly, the stuff was delivered in sanitary wrappings, carefully weighed, but available in plenty.

By the time Admiral Dominic Gordon returned from Jupiter with another load of raw material, there was a functioning government. Small amounts of the foodstuff went a long way, because it was rich. When released from the pressurized hold of the John F. Kennedy , the stuff expanded into tons and tons of richness.

The space industry had new life. War damage slowed the recovery, but space was a high-priority field. A second Kennedy class ship was being built out beyond the moon. Plans for the ship were given to the governments of the U.K., Japan, Germany, and the U.S.S.R., and within months they had their own tankers under construction. There was plenty of room out beyond the moon.

It was not all generous and selfless, the donation of the research which went into the Kennedy , and the distribution, without cost, of tons of rich carbohydrates to India, Africa, and Asia. No one gets something for nothing, and the price was dictated by a hard-nosed U.S. government operating with a temporary Congress of only fifty-two members, one man from each state, more than half of them military men. Before a country got the Kennedy , that country instituted a very tough program of birth control. Before a nonindustrial country received food, the governments provided heavy penalties for unlicensed births. The freedom to breed was, very definitely, put into cold storage, and when starving millions protested, food shipments were cut off until the starving millions saw the light and obeyed government edicts to use birth control. On the New York Stock Exchange, the stocks of companies in the birth-control field shot out of sight.