'Not the details, Doctor, please. Just tell us if it will work or not.'
The mathematician looked surprised. 'Of course it will work! Why shouldn't it? It is just what the computer does. You will be doing the same thing, only much more crudely.'
'Crude or not it's going to save our lives!' Don smacked his fist into his palm excitedly. 'Start now, if you please. With your theory and Chief Kurikka's knowledge of the controls you should be able to do the job between you.'
Now he permitted himself to look at his watch and he almost gasped aloud at how little time there was left. Less than forty-five minutes remained before the solar storm of deadly radiation would hit.
'Purser Jonquet on the phone for you, Captain,' a voice said, breaking into his thought. The duty man was holding the phone out to him.
'Captain here.'
'This is the Purser, Captain. There seems to be a little trouble with the passengers. I wonder if I could ask you to come here and talk to them.'
'Not now. There is no time. I'll join you there in the engine-room as soon as I can, and talk to them then.'
There was a moment's pause before the Purser spoke again. This time there was more than a little concern in his voice.
'That's what I want you to talk to them about, sir. They're not in the engine-room. All of them have had a meeting, here in the main dining-hall, and they say they aren't moving until they talk to the Captain or a senior officer.'
'But - don't they know that they are all dead?'
The Purser's voice was softer, as if he were whispering into the telephone so that no one would hear.
'No, sir, not quite. I did not want to alarm them so I deliberately kept the details vague as to the immediacy of the emergency. Could you come here and explain to them?'
Don thought swiftly - could he? He realized now that he had made a mistake in forgetting about the passengers. Treating them like cargo, or sheep to be herded around. Everything should have been explained to them earlier. Now he would have to tell them the truth. Quickly. There were only minutes remaining.
'I'll be right down' he said, and hung up the phone.
'Captain, this is most important,' Dr Ugalde called out as he saw Don rise.
'What is it?' Don asked, walking over to join them at the controls. The sun wobbled slowly off the stern screen while he watched.
'Here, see for yourself,' Ugalde said. 'In theory it is fine to say we turn the ship by eye and hand. In practice it is something different. It can be done, and we are getting close. But we cannot make as precise an adjustment as the computer, with a ship of the great mass of this one. The sun will be aligned correctly, but will drift slowly off. Someone must make corrections constantly until all the drift has been eliminated and we are orientated correctly.'
'Do you have any idea of how long this will take?' Don asked, hoping, but knowing in advance what the answer would be.
'Hours, surely. It is most delicate work.'
'Hours! That means whoever stays here at the controls will be unprotected from the storm and will be exposed to certain death.'
'I realize that... Someone must die to save the others. Is that not a good way for a man to die?'
Don looked at his watch through a growing haze of desperation. Just a little over half an hour left. It couldn't be done, there wasn't enough time for anything.
The crew and passengers, they were all as good as dead.
'One shall die so that all shall live,' Ugalde said, squaring his shoulders and stepping forward. It will be my pleasure to control the ship. Everyone else must go instantly to the engine-room.'
The little doctor might have looked funny, with his chin up and his hand laid across his heart, but he did not. He meant what he had said, and would not hesitate to die for this shipload of strangers.
'I don't think that will be necessary, Doctor,' Don told him. 'We'll find a way out of this without sacrificing any lives.'
'May I inquire how that is to be done, Captain?'
How indeed! Don thought - and felt a moment of silent panic. How could this be done? There had to be a way. The crew knew the ship better than he did. He had to force them to think.
'What about a radiation suit, Chief?' Don asked. T know we have them. Couldn't the man who was piloting wear one?'
Kurikka's face was pure Scandinavian gloom as he shook his head no.
'Not a chance. The ones we have aboard are for limited use at low radiation levels. Just about as good as tissue-paper in the storm that's coming.'
Don refused to give in to the overall feeling of despair.
'There must be a way. Can't duplicate controls be rigged in the engine-room, something like that?'
'Possibly, given enough time, we'd have to string cables...'
'Something else then, if there isn't time for that.' Don looked around, searching for inspiration. That door, in the wall, leading to the small service washroom. He pulled it open.
'What about this? Rig cables in here, it's only a few feet. We could put in something to stop the radiation, lead sheets...
And then, just that suddenly, it was all clear. He knew what had to be done. He turned, pointing at the Chief, thinking aloud.
'A spacesuit. It keeps air in - so it should keep water out. Am I right?'
Kurikka rubbed his jaw. 'Well, I guess it could. But the water wouldn't do the suit any good. Rust and...'
'That won't happen in a couple of hours,' Don snapped, aware of the seconds rushing by. 'Here's what you must do. Rig a set of controls inside this washroom and connect them up. Put in a repeater screen. If the door isn't waterproof get some patching gunk and seal it. Get a spacesuit and make sure that oxygen tanks are full.' He started towards the door. 'The pilot will work from the washroom - which will be filled with water.'
'But, sir,' Kurikka called after him. 'How can we waterproof the controls...?'
'Find a way. Put them in plastic bags for all I care. But do it - 'he glanced at his watch,' - within the next twenty minutes. I'll be back.'
He slammed out and ran down the corridor towards the main dining-hall. The passengers had yet to be faced - and there was desperately little time to talk to them. No time at all. No time to reason or argue. They had to go at once. He stopped at the next telephone and dialled the number that hooked the phone into the public address system.
'This is the captain speaking. I want every crewman not on duty in the engine-room or the control-room to report to the main dining-hall. Now. Within the next sixty seconds.' His own voice rasped the words down at him from the speaker above.
Crewmen were already beginning to pile into the dining-hall when he reached it, from the entrances on all sides. The tables were slung out of the way, in their between-meals conditions so the floor was clear. One of the passengers was standing on a chair arid the others were grouped around him. They looked about in confusion as Don ran up.
'Listen to me,' he called out. I am Lieutenant Chase, the ship's doctor. I am sorry that I cannot explain in detail right now, I will do that later, but it is imperative that you all proceed at once to the engine-room...'
'We don't want to hear anything from you,' the man standing on the chair shouted. 'We want the captain and we want an explanation of just what is going on around here.'
Don recognized him. Briggs, General Mathew Briggs, retired. His close-cropped grey hair gathered itself into spikes, as sharp and hard-looking as so much barbed wire. His angry scowl and glowering expression were familiar from the newspapers and news broadcasts. A man who always spoke his opinions, no matter how much they differed from those of the rest of the world, and firmly held opinions they were. Don looked at him coldly and snapped out his words.
'There has been an accident, as you know. The captain is dead - as are most of his officers. I am now the acting captain.' There were gasps and a sudden stirring among the passengers. 'A storm of solar radiation will hit this ship in the next few minutes, and the only safe place will be in the engine-room. Everyone will now leave.'