Part 2 (1/2)

Around him the s.p.a.cemen were settling in their acceleration seats or snapping belts to safety hooks. From the direction of the stern came a rising roar as methane, heated to a liquid, dropped into the blast tubes, flaming into pure carbon and hydrogen under the terrible heat of the atomic drive.

Rip had to lean against the acceleration. Fighting for balance, he picked up his s.p.a.ck and made his way to the nine enlisted Planeteers. They had braced against the s.h.i.+p's drive by sitting with backs against bulkheads or by lying flat on the magnesium deck. Sergeant Major Koa was seated against a vertical brace, his brown face wreathed in a grin.

Rip looked him over carefully. There was a saying among the Planeteers that an officer was only as good as his senior sergeant. Koa's looks were rea.s.suring. His face was good-humored, but he had a solid jaw and a mouth that could get tough when necessary. Rip wondered a little at his size.

Big men usually didn't go to s.p.a.ce; they were too subject to s.p.a.ce sickness. Koa must be a special case.

Rip slid to the floor next to the sergeant major and stuck out his hand.

He sensed the strength in Koa's big fist as it closed over his.

Koa said, ”Sir, that was the best _fleedle_ I've ever seen an earthling make. You been on Venus?”

Rip eyed him suspiciously, wondering if the big Planeteer was laughing at him. Koa was grinning, but it was a friendly grin. ”What is a _fleedle_?”

Rip demanded. ”I've never been on Venus.”

”It's the way the water hole people fight,” Koa explained. ”They're like a bunch of rubber b.a.l.l.s when they get to fighting. They ram each other with their heads.”

Rip searched his memory for data on Venus. He couldn't recall any mention of _fleedling_. Venusians, if his memory was right, had a sort of blowgun as a main weapon. He told Koa so.

The sergeant major nodded. ”That's when they mean business, Lieutenant.

_Fleedling_ is more like us fighting with our fists. Sort of a sport.

Great Cosmos! The way they dive at each other is something to see.”

Rip grinned. ”I didn't know I was going to _fleedle_ those officers. It isn't the way I usually enter a cruiser.” He hadn't entered many. He added, ”I suppose I ought to report to someone.”

Koa shook his head. ”No use, sir. You can't walk around very well until the s.h.i.+p reaches _Brennschluss_. Besides, you won't find any s.p.a.ce officers who'll talk to you.”

Rip stared. ”Why not?”

”Because we're Planeteers. They'll give us the treatment. They always do.

When the commander of this bucket gets good and ready, he'll send for you. Until then, we might as well take it easy.” He pulled a bar of Venusian _chru_ from his pocket. ”Have some. It'll make breathing easier.”

The terrific acceleration made breathing a little uncomfortable, but it was not too bad. The chief effect was to make Rip feel as though a ton of invisible feathers were crus.h.i.+ng him against the vertical brace.

He accepted a bite of the bittersweet vegetable candy and munched thoughtfully. Koa seemed to take it for granted that the s.p.a.cemen would give them a rough time.

He asked, ”Aren't there any s.p.a.cemen who get along with the Special Order Squadrons?”

”Never met one.” Koa chewed chru. ”And I was on the _Icarus_ when the whole thing started.”

Rip looked at him in surprise. Koa didn't seem that old. The bad feeling between s.p.a.cemen and the Special Order Squadrons had started about eighteen years ago, when the cruiser _Icarus_ had taken the first Planeteers to Mercury.

He reviewed the history of the expedition. The s.p.a.cemen's job had been to land the newly created Special Order Squadron on the hot planet. The job of the squadron was to explore it. Somehow confusion developed, and the s.p.a.cemen, including the officers, later reported that the squadron had instructed them to land on the sun side of Mercury, which would have destroyed the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p and its crew, or so they believed at the time.

The commanding officer of the squadron denied issuing such an order. He said his instructions were to land as close as possible to the sun side, but not on it. Whatever the truth--and Rip believed the SOS version, of course--the crew of the _Icarus_ mutinied, or tried to. They made the landing on Mercury with squadron guns pointed at their heads. Of course, they found that a sun-side landing wouldn't have hurt the s.h.i.+p. The whole affair was pretty well hushed up, but it produced bad feeling between the Special Order Squadrons and the s.p.a.cemen. ”Trigger-happy s.p.a.ce b.u.ms,” the s.p.a.cemen called them, and much worse, besides.

The men of the Special Order Squadrons, searching for a handy nickname, had called themselves Planeteers, because most of their work was on the planets. As Maj. Joe Barris had told the officers of Rip's cla.s.s, ”You might say the s.p.a.cemen own s.p.a.ce, but we Planeteers own everything solid that's found in it.”

The Planeteers were the specialists--in science, exploration, colonization, and fighting. The s.p.a.cemen carried them back and forth, kept them supplied, and handled their message traffic. The Planeteers did the hard work and the important work--or so they believed.