Chapter 8

An inexorable kind of determination enabled Corriston to get to the Station’s central control compartment, and confront the commander, when the latter, absorbed by matters of the utmost urgency, had triple-guarded his privacy by stationing executive officers outside the door.

Commander Clement was a small man physically, with a strangely bland, almost cherubic face. But his face was dark with anger now--or possibly it was shock that he was experiencing--and the heightened color seemed to add to his dignity, making him look not merely forcibly determined, but almost formidable. His white uniform and the seven gold bars on each epaulet helped a good deal too. It was impossible to determine at a glance just how great was his inner strength, but Corriston knew that he could not have gotten where he was had he not possessed unalloyed resoluteness.

He was standing by a visual reference mechanism which looked almost exactly like a black stovepipe spiraling up from the deck. There was a speaking tube in his hand, and he was talking into it. He seemed completely unaware that he was no longer alone.

Had Corriston been less agitated he would have felt a little sorry for the officer who had admitted him. The officer had been so impressed by Corriston’s gravity and the earnestness with which he had pleaded his case that he had stepped forward and opened the door without question, assuming, no doubt, that Clement would look up instantly and see Corriston standing just inside the doorway.

Now the door had closed again, Clement hadn’t looked up, and the officer was going to be in trouble. But Corriston had no time and very little inclination to worry about that. What Commander Clement was saying into the speaking tube had a far stronger claim on his attention.

“It’s the worst thing that could have happened,” Clement was saying. “We can’t just brazen it out. It’s going to mean trouble, serious trouble. What’s that? How should I know what happened? When you’re carrying a certain kind of cargo a thousand things can go wrong. The ship went out of control, that’s all. The first radio message didn’t tell me anything. The captain was trying to cover up to save himself. He didn’t even want me to know.

“You bet it can happen again. We’ve got to be prepared for that, too. But right now--”

Commander Clement saw Corriston then. His expression didn’t change, but it seemed to Corriston that he paled slightly.

“That’s all for now,” he said, and returned the speaking tube to its cradle.

He looked steadily at Corriston for a moment. A glint of anger appeared in his eyes, and suddenly they were blazing.

“What do you mean by coming in here unannounced, Lieutenant?” he demanded. “I gave strict orders that no one was to be admitted. If I didn’t know you were suffering from severe space-shock...”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Corriston said quickly. “It’s very urgent. I think I can convince you that I am not suffering from space-shock. I’ve found Miss Ramsey. She’s been badly hurt and needs immediate medical attention.”

The Commander looked as if a man he had thought sane was standing before him with a gun in his hand. Not Corriston, but some other, more violent man. For a moment longer he remained rigid and then his hand went out and tightened on Corriston’s arm.

“By heaven, if you’re lying to me!”

“I would have no reason to lie, sir. It proves I’m not a space-shock case. But that’s unimportant now. She’s safe for the moment. No one can get to her. I bolted the door on the inside. Unless--”

Corriston went pale. “No, there’s no danger. I drew the ladder up and returned it to the Selector compartment. Then I threw the lock on the emergency door.”

“Start at the beginning,” Clement said. “If she’s in danger well get to her. Take it easy now, and tell me exactly what happened.”

Corriston went over it fast. He said nothing about the mask. Let Clement find that out for himself.

Commander Clement walked to the door, threw it open and spoke to the executive officer who was stationed outside. The officer came into the control room.

“Stay with Lieutenant Corriston until I get back,” Clement said. “He’s not to leave. He understands that.”

He turned back to Corriston. “I’m afraid you’ll have to consider yourself still under guard, Lieutenant. I have only your word that you found Miss Ramsey. I believe you, but there are some regulations even I can’t waive.”

“It’s all right,” Corriston said. “I won’t attempt to leave. But please hurry, sir.”

Commander Clement hesitated, then said with a smile: “I knew about the guard you knocked out, Lieutenant. You’re a very hot-headed young man. That’s really a court-martial offense, but perhaps we can smooth it over if you’re telling the truth now. You were in the position of a man imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit. If he can prove his innocence, the law is very lenient. He can escape and still get a full pardon, even a pardon with apologies. It’s a different matter, of course if he kills a guard to escape. You didn’t.”