Robert Heinlein - The Rolling Stones

The observation turned out to be both ways. A radio message came in; Hazel printed it and handed it with a straight face to her son: "WAR GOD TO ROLLING STONE - PVT - ROG OLD BOY, I HAVE YOU IN THE SCOPE. WHAT IN SPACE HAVE YOU GOT ON YOU? FUNGUS? OR SEA WEEDS? YOU LOOK LIKE A CHRISI'MAS TREE. P. VANDENBERGH, MASTER."

Captain Stone glared at the message stat. "Why, that fat Dutchman'! I'll "fungus" him. Here, Mother, send this: "Mas­ter to Master - private message: In that drunken tumbling pigeon how do you keep your eye to a scope? Do you enjoy playing nursemaid to a litter of groundhogs? No doubt the dowagers fight over a chance to eat at the captain's table. Fun, I'll bet. R. Stone, Master"."

The answer came back: "ROGER DODGER YOU OLD CODGER, I'VE LIMITED MY TABLE TO FEMALE PASSENGERS CIRCA AGE TWENTY SO I CAN KEEP AN EYE ON THEM - PREFERENCE GIVEN TO BLONDES AROUND FIFTY KILOS MASS. COME OVER FOR DIN­NER. VAN."

Pollux looked out the port, caught the glint on the War God. " Why don't you take him up, Dad? I'll bet I could make it across on my suit jet with one spare oxy bottle."

"Don't be silly. We haven't that much safety line, even at closest approach. Hazel, tell him: "Thanks a million but I've got the prettiest little girl in the system cooking for me right now.""

Meade said, "Me, Daddy? I thought you didn't like my cooking?"

"Don't give yourself airs, snub nose. I mean your mother, of course."

Meade considered this. "But I look like her, don't I?"

"Some. Send it, Hazel."

"RIGHT YOU ARE! MY RESPECTS TO EDITH. "TRUTHFULLY, WHAT IS THAT STUFF? SHALL I SEND OVER WEEDKILLER, OR BARNACLE REMOVER? OR COULD WE BEAT IT TO DEATH WITH A STICK?"

"Why not tell him, Dad?" Castor inquired

"Very well, I will, send: "Bicycles: want to buy one?""

To their surprise Captain Vandenbergh answered:

"MAYBE. GOT A RALEIGH "SANDMAN"?"

"Tell him, "Yes!"

"Pollux put in. "A-number-one condition and brand-new tires. A bargain."

"Slow up there," his father interrupted. "I've seen your load. If you've got a bike in first-class condition, Raleigh or any other make, you've got it well hidden."

"Aw, Dad, it will be - by the time we deliver."

"What do you suppose he wants a bicycle for, dear?" Dr. Stone asked. "Prospecting? Surely not."

"Probably just sightseeing. All right, Hazel, you can send it - but mind you, boys, I'll inspect that vehicle-myself; Van trusts me."

Hazel pushed herself away from the rig. "Let the boys tell their own whoppers. I'm getting bored with this chit-chat."

Castor took over at the key, started to dicker. The passenger skipper, it developed, really was willing to buy a bicycle. After a leisurely while they settled on a price well under Castor's asking price, attractively under the usual prices on Mars, but profitably over what the boys had paid on Luna - this for delivery F.O.B. Phobos, circum Mars.

Roger Stone exchanged affectionate insults and gossip with his friend from time to time over the next several days. During the following week the War God came within phone range, but the conversations dropped off and stopped; they had exhausted topics of conversation. The War God had made her closest approach and was pulling away again; they did not hear from her for more than three weeks.

The call was taken by Meade. She hurried aft to the hold where her father was helping the twins spray enamel on recon­ditioned bicycles. "Daddy, you're wanted on the phone? War God, master to master - official."

"Coming." He hurried forward and took the call. " Rolling Stone, Captain Stone speaking."

" War God, commanding officer speaking. Captain, can you -

"Just a moment. This does not sound like Captain Vanden­bergh."

"It isn't. This is Rowley, Second Officer. I -"

"I understand that your captain wanted me, officially. Let me speak with him."

"I'm trying to explain, Captain." The officer sounded strained and irritable. "I am the commanding officer. Both Captain Van­denbergh and Mr. O'Flynn are on the binnacle list."

"Eh? Sorry. Nothing serious, I hope?"

"I'm afraid it is, sir. Thirty-seven cases on the sick list this morning - and four deaths."

"Great Scott, man! What is it?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Well, what does your medical officer say it is?"

"That's it, sir. The Surgeon died during the midwatch."

"Oh-"

"Captain, can you possibly match with us? Do you have enough maneuvering margin?"

"What? Why?"

"You have a medical officer aboard. Haven't you?"

"Huh? But she's my wife!" -

"She's an M.D., is she not?"

Roger Stone remained silent for a long moment. Then he said, "I'll call you back shortly, sir."

It was a top level conference, limited to Captain Stone, Dr. Stone, and Hazel. First, Dr. Stone insisted on calling the War God and getting a full report on symptoms and progress of the disease. When she switched off her husband said, "Well, Edith, what is it?"

"I don't know. I'll have to see it."

"Now, see here, I'm not going to have you risking -"

"I'm a doctor, Roger."

"You're not in practice, not now. And you are the mother of a family. It's quite out of the ques -"

"I am a doctor, Roger."

He sighed heavily. "Yes, dear."

"The only thing to be determined is whether or not you can match in with the War God. Have you two reached an answer?"

"We'll start computing."

"I'm going aft and check over my supplies." She frowned. "1 didn't expect to have to cope with an epidemic."

When she was gone Roger turned his face, twisted with indecision, to Hazel. "What do you think, Mother?"

"Son, you don't stand a chance. She takes her oath seriously. You've known that a long time."

" I haven't taken the Hippocratic oath! If I won't move the ship, there's nothing she can do about it."

"You're not a doctor, true. But you're a master in space. I guess the "succour & rescue" rule might apply."

"The devil with rules! This is Edith."

" Well," Hazel said slowly, "I guess I might stack the Stone family up against the welfare of the entire human race in a pinch, myself. But I can't decide it for you."

"I won't let her do it! It's not me. There's Buster - he's no more than a baby still; he needs his mother."

"Yes, he does."

"That settles it. I'm going aft and tell her."

"Wait a minute! If that's your decision, Captain, you won't mind me saying that's the wrong way to do it."

"Eh?"

"The only way you'll get it past your wife is to get on that computer and come out with the answer you're looking for... an answer that says it's physically impossible for us to match with them and still reach Mars."

"Oh. You're right. Look, will you help me fake it?"

"I suppose so."

"Then let's get busy."

"As you say, sir. You know, Roger, if the War God comes in with an unidentified and uncontrolled disease aboard, they'll never let her make port at Mars. They'll swing her in a parking orbit, fuel her up again, and send her back at next optimum."

"What of it? It's nothing to me if fat tourists and a bunch of immigrants are disappointed."

"Check. But I was thinking of something else. With Van and the first officer sick, maybe about to check in, if the second officer comes down with it, too, the War God might not even get as far as a parking orbit."

Roger Stone did not have to have the thought elaborated; a ship approaching a planet, unless manoeuvred at the last by a skilled pilot, can do one of only two things - crash, or swing on past and out endlessly into empty space to take up a comet-­like orbit which arrives nowhere ever.

He covered his face with his hands. "What do I do, Mother?"