Part 20 (1/2)

Dumbrowski was playing cribbage with MacDonald. ”Fifteen-two, fifteen-four, pair six, pair eight,”

he said, pegging his hand. He looked up as Drake entered. ”h.e.l.lo, Doc. How're the eggs?” His voice was carefully modulated.

”They hatch day after tomorrow, captain. I'll need some room for the brooders. They're all knocked down for s.h.i.+pment, and I'll have to put them together.”

”I see.” Dumbrowski shuffled the cards slowly. ”About how much room will you need?”

”There's fifty of 'em,” Drake said. ”They're square, two meters on a side.”

”I see.” He tamped the cards on the table, cut the deck, and shuffled again-slowly. ”That's two hundred square meters of floor s.p.a.ce.”

”A little more,” Drake said. ”They can't be crowded together too much.”

Dumbrowski sighed gustily. ”Well, I reckon we can find s.p.a.ce here and there in different sections.

It'll take a little moving around, but I guess it can be done.”

”I'm afraid that won't do, captain. You see, those ducks have to be raised under one point five gees, at high pressure and high temperature and high humidity-just like the rest of the ducks.”

Dumbrowski stopped shuffling. ”I see,” he said at last. ”They're going to hatch in two days and we have to s.h.i.+ft the cargo around so that you can have another section. Then we have to reset the paragravity units under the floor. And set up the heaters and the humidifiers and the pressurizers. I see.”

He put the cards down carefully on the table and looked up at Drake. ”All right, Doc. MacDonald and I will tend to it. Meanwhile, I'd appreciate it if you'd stay out of my sight for a while.”

Drake swallowed and said nothing for a moment. Then: ”You hate my guts, don't you, Dumbrowski?”

”I would if you had any,” the captain said evenly. ”You get 'em; I'll hate 'em.”

That evening, Drake went up to the navigation dome. Devris was punching figures into a small computer, so the doctor sat down and waited quietly until he was through.

After several minutes, a relay clicked, a typer rattled a little, and a white sheet covered with figures slid out. Devris took it, stared at it, and snarled four words.

”Is that what's known as a 'deep s.p.a.ce oath'?” Drake asked mildly.

”Huh? Oh, h.e.l.lo, Doc. Didn't see you come in.” He looked back at the paper. ”If you mean an oath directed towards s.p.a.ce, yes. So far, I can't pin our exact position down without an error of plus or minus one light-month. That's a little over four minutes' flight time.”

”That sounds pretty good.”

”Oh, it is; but I want it better. My ambition is to be able to get it down plus or minus an inch, but I think the noise level is a bit too high.”

”Hm-m-m. Where's Dumbrowski and MacDonald?”

Devris looked up from his paper. ”Didn't you know? They're working on Section Six.”

”Oh?” Drake blinked. ”I'd have thought they'd have that cleared out hours ago.”

Devris let his mouth hang open for a second, then snapped it shut. ”Oh, joy, joy. What you know about a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p could be printed in newsface headline print on half-inch osmium plate and it would consist entirely of the fifteenth letter of the alphabet.”

”What do you mean?”

”I mean that the paragravity units under the floor have to be completely reblocked. You don't just wave your hand to get an extra half gee out of 'em.”

Drake swallowed-hard. ”Why...why, I thought all you had to do was turn a dial or something, like a thermostat.”

”You did? Is that why you waited until two days before the hatching to tell Dumbrowski? He'll be up all night and all day tomorrow, he and MacDonald. I'd be down there herping them, except there isn't room between the deck plates for three men.”

Drake buried his face in his hands. ”This is horrible! No. Nononono!”

Devris looked a little alarmed. ”Oh, now, Doc, it isn't as bad as all that. You didn't know.” The doctor looked up. ”It's worse than that! I need that little bitty s.p.a.ce for ducklings-ducklings, mind you! But do you realize that those birds will be adult ducks by the time the rescue s.h.i.+p gets here?

An adult duck needs eight thousand square centimeters of s.p.a.ce; those ducks will need four thousand square meters of floor area by the time they grow up!”

”Four thousand square meters,” Devris said in a thoughtful tone. ”That's pretty nearly the whole deck area of the s.h.i.+p. Interesting.” He got up and went over to the bottle marked ”Lens Cleaner” and began mixing a stiff drink.

He was humming to himself, and it took Drake a second or two to recognize the tune.

I heard one day A gentleman say That criminals who Are cut in two Can hardly feel The fatal steel And so are slain Without much pain.

If this is true, It's jolly for you; Your courage screw To bid us adieu- Devris stirred the drink vigorously and handed it to the doctor. ”You'd better go down and tell Dumbrowski now, before he gets too much more done on that section. Drink that-you'll need it.”

Drake finished the gla.s.s in short order and headed for Section Six.

The stairway to Section Six was closed, and a big sign glowed on its surface.

DANGER! THE P-G UNIT IN THIS SECTION IS OFF! USE EXTREME CAUTION!.

Drake opened the door carefully and peered down the stairway. The lights were on, and everything looked normal. He started down the stairs.

Halfway down, something tugged at his insides and sudden nausea hit him. He stumbled down two more steps, and the s.h.i.+p seemed to do a prodigious loop. There seemed to be a pull from above. He was falling up the stairs! He lurched out and grabbed at the railing. He missed, and the s.h.i.+p whirled about him. He did a queer somersault, while his stomach flipped in the opposite direction. He twisted frantically, trying to regain his balance and his sense of orientation. His stomach flipped back in place, twisted around, joggled, gave up in despair, and emptied itself of its contents in one t.i.tanic upheaval.

Drake pa.s.sed out, colder than a fritter.

He was being shaken. A voice was saying: ”Come on, Doc; snap out of it. You're all right, Doc; come on.”

In the background, he could hear Dumbrowski's bellowing laughter.

As if in a dream, he opened his eyes blearily. ”What happened?” Then: ”Where am I?”

”You're in Section Seven, Doc,” said MacDonald. ”You stepped across the barrier field into no-gee, and went haywire.”

”Boy!” said Dumbrowski, ”did you look funny!” And again he burst into laughter.

Drake found himself lying on the floor. His clothes were a mess, and his head still felt dizzy.

”But I've stepped across barrier fields hundreds of times,” he protested feebly. ”It never did that before.”