Part 3

With all his strength, Craig slugged the captain on the side of the jaw. The blow knocked Martin sideways and down to the ramp.

But it did not knock him out. Snarling, he came to his feet. Craig he ignored, the man who had slugged him was not important to him at this moment. Cursing, he started toward the open lock. Craig tackled him around the legs. The captain fell heavily. Craig rolled with him to the edge of the ramp, forced him over it. Both fell to the hard floor of the vast hangar.

In obedience to the voice that had come over the intercom system, and which had sounded very much like the voice of Captain Martin, men were already pouring from the lock.

Beside the ramp, Craig and Captain Martin fought viciously.

In the captain's cabin, Nuoy heard the voice. He snapped open the communication line between this cabin and the control room.

"What nonsense is this?" he shouted into the mike. "There is no way a dangerous condition can develop in the drive of these ships!" He was speaking the truth. Deep-space ships, all space ships, were hazard proof so far as the drive was concerned. He expected an evasive denial.

"Of course no dangerous condition can develop," the voice from the control room answered.

"Then what do you mean by making so stupid an announcement as this? What are you trying to do, delay my departure? I'll have you stripped of your rank for this piece of nonsense!"

Wrath was in his voice. Before this wrath captains, generals, even the president of Earth Government, trembled.

The voice coming from the control room did not tremble. "Aw, go buy a muzzle for your ugly face," it said, crisply. "Who in the hell do you think you're giving orders to, Dog-face?"

Nuoy was utterly speechless. White with fury, he headed for the control room. He'd teach Captain Martin proper respect for his betters. Charging through the door of the control room, he found there a doddering old man whom he vaguely recognized as having seen around Pluto Station. The old man was sitting in the control chair, a monkey wrench in his hand.

"Who the devil was that who was just speaking to me?" Nuoy demanded.

"Why, I don't know, Mr. Nuoy. No one was speaking from here."

Nuoy glared at him. His suspicions were aroused. "I believe you are lying to me. I believe you were the one who was talking to me like that. I'll have you know--" Nuoy advanced. While he explained what he was going to do, he thrust his head down until it was within a foot of the old man's face.

Adam March slugged him with the monkey wrench. Nuoy went down without a sound. "That's why we call 'em monkey wrenches," March said, satisfaction in his voice. "They're made especially for use on monkeys like you!" Laying the wrench back on the arm of the chair, he ran his fingers over the complex system of controls in front of him.

"Clear the ship, all hands!" his voice went out over the ship. Flipping over to listening, he caught the sound of fleeing footsteps. He smiled to himself. His orders were being obeyed.

"Are all hands clear?" he shouted. "Anyone who is still in the ship, answer at once."

There was no answer. No running footsteps sounded. The ship was clear.

As if his neck had suddenly developed a will of its own, he felt it turn on his shoulders as something entered the control room.

Coming through the open door was a glowing, vibrating, angry ball of flowing crystal light.

Adam did what he had planned to do--what had to be done.

Beside the ramp, Craig knew he was losing the battle with Captain Martin. The captain was tough, hard, strong. He fought like a wild man. Using knees and elbows, he fought as if he was taking orders from someone else and his life was of no consequence.

Kicking Craig in the head, he scrambled to his feet.

The last of the crew were rushing from the ship.

"Yes, Filo," Captain Martin was screaming. "Yes, yes, I know. A horrible mistake has been made. I will correct it."

"See that you correct it immediately!" Filo's angry voice whispered in the air.

Captain Martin leaped up the runway. "Back into the ship!" he shouted at the crew. He ran up the ramp toward the open lock.

Ponderously, the lock swung shut in front of him.

He stopped, dazedly stared at it. The lock could be opened or closed from the control room. He suspected he knew what had happened.

Filo's voice raged at him. "Get into this ship instantly."

"But, I can't! Open the lock for me."

"I can't open it, you fool! Someone has jammed the controls!"

"Ah--" Captain Martin said. The single sound had all the overtones of a prayer.

Craig got to his feet, wobbled up the gangway in time to hear the last of the conversation. He caught Captain Martin's arm. "We've got to get out of the hangar," he whispered. "If we don't--" He whispered what was going to happen next.

The captain stared at him from bewildered eyes.

A vast throb came from the ship.

"He's warming up the drive!" the captain said. "You're right. Where's the general?"

* * * * *

The _Andromeda_ went out of the hangar without waiting for the vast doors to be opened. There was no time to wait for that, nor would the request to open the doors have been obeyed even if it could have been transmitted. There was a tremendous, thundering screech of tortured metal as she tore the doors down. Then, with Adam March at the controls, she mounted to the sky.

The thing in the air behind him was thrown completely off-balance by the unexpected takeoff. It did not know what to do, consultation with its comrades was necessary before action could be taken. The Sorodrome spun back out of the control room.

Only minutes, perhaps less than minutes, were needed for the Sorodromes to agree on what had to be done.

Filo made the decision. "Destroy that human in the control room!"

Adam March had dreamed all of his life of being at the control of a deep-space ship. Now he had the privilege, now his dream had come true. He felt the surge of vast power at the control of his finger tips as the ship moved out of the hangar. He did not hear the crashing of the big doors. The slight bumps they made in falling was not transmitted through the ship to him. Before him were the bright clear skies of deep space. He pointed the ship upward.

In the long run, he knew what the answer would be. The Sorodromes would certainly conquer him. If they didn't do that, they would clamp down over him the same strange control they had exercised over the men of the _Andromeda_.

He did not anticipate that the long run would ever come into being. No! There were men on Pluto who knew what to do and who would do it.

But, even so, he could savor this moment, when a ship of deep space was under his fingers, taking him upward in a blaze of rising glory.

She was still taking him upward when the tracking Z-beams struck her. She exploded in a blaze of light that was visible over most of the Solar System.

* * * * *

The screens in the command center of the station revealed the flare of light that marked the passing of the _Andromeda_. The room was silent. General Stanley turned back to Craig and Mary, asking them to repeat again the story that had moved him to take this action.

Dazed, the general listened. When they had finished, he turned again to Captain Martin.

"But this immortality you talked about on Star Goal?" he questioned.

"The immortality is there all right," Captain Martin answered. "It is both real and unreal. There is no question that the Sorodromes can slow changes in body cells which produces immortality. But the process they use to do this gives them almost complete control over you. And the immortality and the control go together. Once the control is broken, the increased life span goes too. Also, if the control is broken, you begin to age very rapidly, until you come up to your actual age. Thus within the next year every man who flew with the _Andromeda_ will find his body processes catching up with his chronological age."

The captain's face had become etched with lines during the past few minutes, mute evidence of the process now beginning in him. But he did not seem to mind the immortality he had lost, the price he had paid for it had been too high.

"There's one blessing anyhow," the general said. "Nuoy went with the ship." His eyes glowed at the thought of that. The Solar System would be a better place to live for many men because Nuoy was no longer in it.

"But I still don't understand about Adam March," Craig persisted. "He knew too much about the _Andromeda_."

"Not too much," Captain Martin said. "He designed and built her."

"What?" Craig gasped.

The captain nodded. "In those days he was a deep-space ship designer. His life's dream was to fly one of them, a dream he was too old to realize. But he designed and built the _Andromeda_. The next best thing to flying her, for him, was to have me fly her."

The general's face showed sudden interest.

"I see," Craig said. "If he designed the _Andromeda_, then he would know about her." His brows wrinkled as a new thought came into his mind. "But he was working here as a janitor. How--"

"Maybe several reasons," the captain answered. "His real life was the _Andromeda_. He probably came here and took any job he could get, because this would be her first landing if she ever returned to the system. If she ever came back, he wanted to be on hand to welcome her."

"Oh," Craig said. In that brief explanation, most of the puzzle of Adam March's actions became clear. "But how did he know that something was wrong on the ship?"

Captain Martin's face grew grim. "I didn't see him when I came off the ship, but I think he saw me. At the sight of me, he knew something was wrong, knew it in a way that made it impossible for him to be mistaken. He took her off alone, not only to save the station, but to save me."

"What?" Craig gasped. "He knew you, twenty years ago, before the _Andromeda_ jumped into deep space?"

"Slightly," Captain Martin answered. "His name wasn't March then, it was Martin. He was my father."