A Spaceship Named McGuire Read online

regulations in the process.

  I went to my room, grabbed the attache case, checked it overquickly--never trust another man to check your vac suit foryou--and headed for the surface.

  Nobody paid any attention to me when I walked out of the air lock ontothe spacefield. There were plenty of people moving in and out, goingto and from their ships and boats. It wasn't until I reached the edgeof the field that I realized that I had over-played my hand withColonel Brock. It was only by the narrowest hair, but that had beenenough to foul up my plans. There were guards surrounding theperimeter with radar search beams.

  As I approached, one of the guards walked toward me and made a seriesof gestures with his left hand--two fingers up, fist, two fingers up,fist, three fingers up. I set my suit phone for 223; the guy's righthand was on the butt of his stun gun.

  "Sorry, sir," came his voice. "We can't allow anyone to cross thefield perimeter. Emergency."

  "My name's Oak," I said tiredly. "Daniel Oak. What is going on here?"

  He came closer and peered at me. Then: "Oh, yes, sir; I recognize you.We're ... uh--" He waved an arm around. "Uh ... looking for MissRavenhurst." His voice lowered conspiratorially. I could tell that hewas used to handling the Ravenhurst girl with silence and suedegloves.

  "Up _there_?" I asked.

  "Well, Colonel Brock is a little worried. He says that Miss Ravenhurstis being sent to a school on Luna and doesn't want to go. He got tothinking about it, and he's afraid that she might try to leaveCeres--sneak off you know."

  I knew.

  "We've got a guard posted at the airlocks leading to the field, butColonel Brock is afraid she might come up somewhere else and jumpoverland."

  "I see," I said. I hadn't realized that Brock was that close to panic.What was eating him?

  There must be something, but I couldn't figure it. Even theIntelligence Corps of the Political Survey Division can't get completeinformation every time.

  After all, if he didn't want the girl to steal a flitterboat and goscooting off into the diamond-studded velvet, all he'd have to dowould be to guard the flitterboats. I turned slowly and looked around.It seemed as though he'd done that, too.

  And then my estimation of Brock suddenly leaped up--way up. Just aguard at each flitterboat wouldn't do. She could talk her way into theboat and convince the guard that he really shouldn't tell anyone thatshe had gone. By the time he realized he'd been conned, she'd bethousands of miles away.

  And since a boat guard would have to assume that any approachingperson _might_ be the boat's legitimate owner, he'd have to talk towhomever it was that approached. _Kaput._

  But a perimeter guard would be able to call out an alarm if anyonecame from the outside without having to talk to them.

  And the guards watching the air locks undoubtedly had instructions towatch for any female that even vaguely matched Jack's description. Avac suit fits too tightly to let anyone wear more than a facialdisguise, and Brock probably--no, _definitely_--had his tried-and-truemen on duty there. The men who had already shown that they were fairlyresistant to Jack Ravenhurst's peculiar charm. There probably weren'tmany with such resistance, and the number would become less as shegrew older.

  That still left me with my own problem. I had already lost too muchtime, and I had to go a long way. Ceres is irregular in shape, butit's roughly four hundred and eighty miles in diameter and a littleover fifteen hundred miles in circumference.

  Viking Test Field Four, where McGuire 7 was pointing his nose at thesky, was about twenty-five miles away, as the crow flies. But ofcourse I couldn't go by crow.

  By using a low, fairly flat, jackrabbit jump, a man in good conditioncan make a twelve hundred foot leap on the surface of Ceres, and eachjump takes him about thirty seconds. At that rate, you can covertwenty-five miles in less than an hour. That's what I'd intended ondoing, but I couldn't do it with all this radar around the field. Iwouldn't be stopped, of course, but I'd sure tip my hand to ColonelBrock--the last thing I wanted to do.

  But there was no help for it. I'd have to go back down and use thecorridors, which meant that I'd arrive late--_after_ Jack Ravenhurstgot there, instead of _before_.

  There was no time to waste, so I got below as fast as possible,repacked my vac suit, and began firing myself through the corridors asfast as possible. It was illegal, of course; a collision attwenty-five miles an hour can kill quickly if the other guy is comingat you at the same velocity. There were times when I didn't dare breakthe law, because some guard was around, and, even if he didn't catchme, he might report in and arouse Brock's interest in a way I wouldn'tlike.

  I finally got to a tubeway, but it stopped at every station, and ittook me nearly an hour and a half to get to Viking Test Area Four.

  At the main door, I considered--for all of five seconds--the idea ofsimply telling the guard I had to go in. But I knew that, by now, Jackwas there ahead of me. No. I couldn't just bull my way in. Too crude.Too many clues.

  Hell's fire and damnation! I'd have to waste more time.

  I looked up at the ceiling. The surface wasn't more than a hundredfeet overhead, but it felt as though it were a hundred light-years.

  If I could get that guard away from that door for five seconds, allwould be gravy from then on in. But how? I couldn't have the diversionconnected with me. Or--

  Sometimes, I'm amazed at my own stupidity.

  I beetled it down to the nearest phone and got hold of my BANningnumber.

  "Jack already inside?" I snapped.

  "Hell, yes! What happened to you?"

  "Never mind. Got to make the best of it. I'm a corner away from AreaFour. Where's your nearest man?"

  "At the corner near the freight office."

  "I'll go to him. What's he look like?"

  "Five-nine. Black, curly hair. Your age. Fat. Name's Peter Quilp. Heknows you."

  "Peter Quilp?"

  "Right."

  "Good. Circulate a report that Jack has been seen in the vicinity ofthe main gate to Area Four. Put it out that there's a reward of fivethousand for the person who finds her. I'm going to have Quilp gathera crowd."

  He didn't ask a one of the million questions that must have poppedinto his mind. "Right. Anything else?"

  "No." I hung up.

  * * * * *

  Within ten minutes, there was a mob milling through the corridor.Everybody in the neighborhood was looking for Jaqueline Ravenhurst.Then Peter Quilp yelled.

  "I've got her! I've got her! Guard!"

  With a scene like that going on, the guard couldn't help but step outof his cubicle to see what was going on.

  I used the key I was carrying, stepped inside, and relocked the door.No one in the crowd paid any attention.

  From then on up, it was simply a matter of evading patrollingguards--a relatively easy job. Finally, I put on my vac suit and wentout through the air lock.

  McGuire was still sitting there, a bright blue needle that reflectedthe distant sun as it moved across the ebon sky. Ceres' rotation tookit from horizon to horizon in less than two hours, and you could seeit and the stars move against the spire of the ship.

  I made it to the air lock in one long jump.

  Jack Ravenhurst had gone into the ship through the tube that led tothe passenger lock. She might or might not have her vac suit on; Iknew she had several of them on Ceres. It was probable that she waswearing it without the fishbowl.

  I used the cargo lock.

  It took a few minutes for the pumps to cycle, wasting more precioustime. I was fairly certain that she would be in the control cabin,talking, but I was thankful that the pumps were silent.

  Finally, I took off my fishbowl and stepped into the companionway.

  And something about the size of Luna came out of nowhere and clobberedme on the occiput. I had time to yell, "Get away!" Then I was as onewith intergalactic space.

  * * * * *

  _Please!_ said the voice. _Please! Stop the drive! Go back! McGu
ire!I_ demand _that you stop! I_ order _you to stop! Please! PLEASE!_

  It went on and on. A voice that shifted around every possible mode ofemotion. Fear. Demand. Pleading. Anger. Cajoling. Hate. Threat.

  Around and around and around.

  _Can't you speak, McGuire? Say something to me!_ A shrill, soft,throaty, harsh, murmuring, screaming voice that had one basiccharacteristic. It was a female voice.

  And then another voice.

  _I am sorry, Jack. I can speak with you. I can record your data. But Icannot accept your orders. I can take orders from only One. And he hasgiven me his orders._

  And the feminine voice again: _Who was it? What orders? You keepsaying that it was the man on the couch. That doesn't make sense!_

  I didn't