'Good thinking. Who's next?'
Once they began to concentrate on it, it was amazing the number of items that they found. Carpets and decorations and banisters on the stairs, furniture, fittings and spare parts. The list grew and Don checked off the items. There was one obvious - and heavy - item missing. The cargo,' he said, 'what about that?'
Kurikka shook his head. 'I only wish we could. There is heavy machinery, bales of clothing, a lot of items that we could do without. But all the cargo is container loaded for the most part, and sealed into place against the G stresses. The shuttle rockets have the special extensible power sockets to reach down past the containers to free them, but we don't have the equipment. I suppose we could jury-rig something to get the containers out, but it would take a couple of days at least.'
'Which is far too long for us. The cargo stays - but everything else that can go, goes!'
As the crew got the jettisoning under way, Don went, reluctantly, to the main dining-hall. He had some idea of the reception facing him there, and he was not far wrong. The passengers, all 112 of them, were waiting for him, and were in an ugly mood. He had to shout to be heard because of the noise made by the crewmen who were already tearing out the tables. He explained about the difficulties they were experiencing, the fact that they were far off course because of the accident, and the need to lighten the ship. A concerted growl of anger went up when he told them that their luggage was being thrown from the ship as well.
'You have no right and you cannot force me to!' an elderly matron called out and there were shouts of agreement from all sides. Don waited until they were silent before he spoke again.
'I am sorry if I appear to be highhanded. But I assure you that there is no other way out of this mess. This is not my decision. You know that I am a doctor, and the acting captain of this ship only because all of the other officers are dead. But we have been in contact with Mars Central and it is their decision that we must lighten this ship or we will never be able to turn it.' There were more complaints, but Don shouted them down.
I am Captain and this is an order. You will keep only the items I have mentioned, and you will bring your luggage here within half an hour. Your lives depend upon it'
They left, reluctantly, grumbling complaints to one another. Don smiled wryly to himself thinking that he would never win any popularity polls with these people. But he had to save their lives -whether they liked it or not. One man stayed behind and approached Don. He looked familiar, a lean, tanned man with a crisp moustache. He introduced himself.
'My name is Doyle, Captain, I am General Briggs' secretary.'
'Yes. What can I do for you?'
Doyle ignored the sharp edge to Don's voice, and smiled. 'Not so much for me, Captain, but for General Briggs. He would like to talk to you. Is that such an unreasonable request?'
Don hesitated. He remembered that he had promised to talk to Briggs. He might as well get it over with, and this would be as good a time as any while the excess weight was being jettisoned.
'All right, I'll come with you now.'
'Thank you, sir, I know that the general will appreciate this.'
They stopped by the control-room for the key to the compartment, then went to the temporary brig. The general stood up from the bunk when they entered.
'Very good of you to come, Captain,' he said.
'You wanted to talk with me, General?'
'Yes, if I could have a minute of your time. But what I really wanted to do was apologize for the incident in my cabin. I, of course, turned in all my cigarettes, I can take orders as well as give them, you know. However I forgot one pack which, completely without thinking, I started to smoke. That is the cause of the accident. I am very sorry that it happened.'
'So are we, General.'
'I am sure of that. Now, if I may, I would like to ask you how long you plan to keep me in this compartment? I am not protesting my sentence, your actions were completely justified, but I do feel that the term of the punishment should be spelled out.'
Don thought quickly. He needed the passengers' cooperation, and haying the general on his side would surely help. The man's earlier anger was gone and he seemed genuinely repentant. There was no point at all in keeping him locked up any longer.
'You're free to go now, General. This was never a matter of punishment, just a temporary measure until we uncovered the reason for the fire.'
'Very kind of you.'
The last words were cold and formal, with none of the warmth the general had shown while explaining a moment earlier. He and Doyle turned and left at once. Don looked after them, some memory gnawing at him. What was it the crewman had said? Wasn't it something about there being more cigarettes in the burned luggage? Well, even if the general had lied to get out of confinement, it was not important. The incident was closed and he had the ship to think about.
As he descended the stairway to A deck he saw an incredible sight. Since the floor of this deck was the outer skin of the ship, tempered glass viewing ports were set into the floor. They were two yards in diameter and framed circles of blackest space, punctured by the bright, unflickering light of the myriad stars. The stars appeared to move by steadily, as the ship rotated to provide weight for the passengers. Except at the times of arrival and departure the stars were the only thing that could be seen.
Not any more. The brilliant light of the distant sun, unshielded by any atmosphere, glinted from the many objects that streamed through space around the ship. Tables, suitcases, chairs, hams, shoes, rugs, cans; crockery, the list was endless. They moved slowly away, appearing to shrink and vanish, and new objects took their place. The jettisoning had begun.
The scene around the airlock was that of orderly confusion. A counterbalance scale had been rigged next to the open door of the lock. As the miscellany of things to be discarded arrived they were weighed, and the weight recorded, then were unceremoniously dumped into the open mouth of the lock. When the level reached up to the opening, the door was closed and the air pumped out. Then the outer door opened and centrifugal force hurled everything out to join the stream of debris moving slowly away. When the lock was closed the entire routine was repeated. Chief Kurikka was supervising the operation, and he came to report as soon as he saw Don.
'Going well so far, Captain. We have had some trouble with the passengers, but that is going smoothly now too.'
'What kind of trouble?'
The chief looked around, then lowered his voice.
'I'm a realistic man sir, and when my life depends upon it I am not one to think much about applying the honour system. I've had the purser and some of the men going through their cabins after the passengers have dumped their luggage. We've found a lot of "essential" items that weren't that essential. They've been dumped too.'
'You're a hard man, Chief, and there will be lawsuits to prove it. But I'll back you all the way.'
'Yes, sir. We're just about through here and the weight we discarded is being totalled for Mars Central.'
'Finish as quickly as possible. You know why.'
Kurikka nodded silently and went back to his work. Don turned away - and stumbled. He had to grab the wall for support. He was tired beyond belief, but he could not stop until the course corrections had been made. Walking slowly and carefully, he went along the passageway to the control-room where he fell into the captains chair.
'Firing information is in, sir,' a voice said - and Don jerked his head up. He had dozed off without even knowing it. He blinked at the sheet of paper that Sparks held out to him.
'What do they say?'
'Ten minutes to blast. The Chief and Dr Ugalde are setting up the sequence. Mars Central says that they are "optimistic" about the course change now.'