Kenneth Gantz - Not in Solitude

He cut away the four weights from Noel’s belt and shoulders and finally the anklet weights.

Two bolts struck hard, so close together their flashes blended. Dane straightened up and looked around. The fire was gone from the other tank. He couldn’t locate it. The flame of Seckinger’s tank had swung around more than 90 degrees. A little more and it would have reached them

Then he noticed that the line of fire was drifting, swinging closer. It was arcing slowly around. At them! He eyed the distance to the tank. The flame would easily reach where he stood over Noel. At its present angle he could see that clearly, shooting out the way it did, more than two hundred feet from its nozzle.

“Run for it, boy!” Colonel Cragg sounded off in his ears. “Save yourself! Run for it! That last bolt knocked it on traverse. Run!”

Fifteen or twenty yards would do it! “God damn you!’ he raged. “If you hadn’t forgotten the weights, we’d be out of range now!”

All the while he was busy. Automatically and desperately busy. Fighting for the calm to move smoothly, he pulled Noel up and eased him into position.

The earphones were ominously quiet. They’re keeping their mouths shut, he thought. So they won’t rattle me. He couldn’t have even a minute left, no matter how slow the traverse. Already the relentless second hand of flame was passing three o’clock to his six o’clock. Sobbing for breath, he thrust his head up into the loop of Noel’s arms and churned forward into an urgent shuffle.

No time for caution now. Decompression was the lesser of the evils. Stumble and fall, and it was over. He knew that, but still he did not curb his lunges against the lichens that thrust back against his legs.

He tried to look where he was placing his feet, at what the next step would bring to defeat or circumvent, but it was more than a human could do not to look back over his shoulder at the triggered fire.

It was lancing ahead of him, now practically at his side, so close that nothing but the insulated suit kept him from feeling its fierce heat. He was inside the peak of its range.

Doggedly he bent forward to the business of putting foot in front of foot. He had lost, but it was still going to be a good try!

They kept the searchlight directly on the path he trod. As long as he looked down, it could not blind him, and under its brilliance every detail of his footing stood clearly forth. Except for the tangling lichens. Except for the damned tangling lichens he would have made it.

Now he waited for the bite of the fire or the quick boiling death of decompression. The instant his suit leaked his air pressure, his blood would boil. How does it feel when your blood boils? How does it feel in the instant before consciousness blacks out forever? The next tick of the second hand on his watch might be the last He would not feel the fire when it first licked at him. Its first bite would momentarily be repelled by his suit insulation until the flame wrapped him in and scorched him to a crisp, as the phrase went. Time for one more step maybe. In a detached sort of way he knew his legs were fighting, but he seemed just to be standing there, waiting for the streaking pain. He was annoyed by somebody trying to talk to him, rasping and shouting in his ears. He ought to turn down the volume. Turn it off altogether.

Then he realized that words had meaning. “Take it easy boy. You’ve got it made. Take it easy!”

Dully he stopped and swung around. The fiery arm of the compass had already described its arc past where he stood. Already it pointed past! A great joy burst over him. You made it, boy. You made it!” he gurgled, feeling the smile ripple his face.

“Nice going!” Colonel Cragg was saying, and words to that effect.

“Well,” Dane said aloud, “I’ll be goddamned!”

“So will I,” Colonel Cragg agreed.

He had forgotten about the microphone, but he didn’t mind forgetting a great many things. He was happy. Just goddamned happy. Right now that’s what he was. Happy.

When he got his breath, he was entering in the shadow of the Far Venture. Well, that was to be expected. Seckinger’s tank could not have been two hundred yards out. The lichens were now against the base of the spacecraft’s tail cone where it stood upon the sand. A few more steps, and he came under the airlock. He eased Noel off on the cargo hoist that came down and climbed on himself. He did not know until later of the final spark bolt that came in and exploded Seckinger’s tank.

He was tired and happy. That was all he knew or cared about. So the lichens were in contact with the Far Venture. Tomorrow was a new day, and tomorrow they took off for the blessed Earth.

IT WAS Lieutenant McDonald, his hard, youngish face crinkled into a big grin. When they had got Dane out of his suit and hustled Noel off to the infirmary and the contaminated equipment had been properly disposed, he came riding down on the elevator into the airlock. He stuck out his hand and yelled, “What do you want to do? Win a medal? You think they add anything to the pay check?” He stood aside in mock politeness for Dane to get into the cage. “You scared the you-know-what out of all of us. What do you use for nerves? Piano wire?”

You couldn’t help liking just plain animal admiration. McDonald bubbled with transparent sincerity. Dane felt himself grinning all over his face. “I—”

“You were just out for a walk? So you thought you’d just bring in this guy Noel? With that big squirt gun about to burn your tail off, you take your own sweet time about getting the guy up on your back. You drape him on you just so; then you walk right out around the end of a jolt of liquid fire like you had on asbestos drawers in hell. They can close the snack bar tonight. The whole damn crew from the commander down has just finished a good meal off their fingernails.”

“If you think I wasn’t in a hurry,” Dane said, “you ought to see a centipede with a hotfoot.”

The cage slackened and stopped. McDonald said, “Colonel Cragg wants to see you. My guess is he’ll chew you out for not obeying orders and then kiss you for being a damn hero.”

Dane looked out on 1-high corridor. “Wrong deck”, he said. “Infirmary’s on 2-high.”

McDonald affected an air of disapproval. “You think they’re going to keep that guy in bed with all this going on? He’s at the command post in a wheel chair.”

Cragg was nearly his old self. His color was back and his voice was strong. He sat ramrod-straight in the invalid chair. Dane would not have been surprised to see him in his blue uniform coveralls instead of pajamas.

He ignored Dane’s comment that he was looking good. “I owe you the life of a fine officer.” He stopped before he went on, as if he wanted to be careful of what he had to say. “I doubt that we would have been able to get to him in time, before the tank blew up. Even if the flame went over him, that would have finished him off. Very likely. You know about Seckinger’s tank?”

Dane nodded. “They told me while I was getting out of my gear. He was a good man.”

“I lost five good men out there!” Cragg said harshly. “You know about the others too?”

“I didn’t realize they were all dead,” Dane said.

“We got the three men in who were on foot. They were all dead. They all got it direct. Noel was the only one who didn’t get a direct hit.”

“You said five. Who was the other one?”

Cragg stared at him coldly. “Three men were brought in dead and both tanks blew up. That’s your five. It would have been six if it hadn’t been for your timely action. The survivors had to come in and get the flame throwers off before they could go back out. They couldn’t have got back out to Noel as soon as you did, and you barely made it out with him. Likely I would have lost two more men.”