World of Chance

Louise indicated her neck. "You don't see any luck charms there, do you? I knew they don't help; they're not the answer."

Thompson grabbed hold of her shoulders. "Then what is?"

Louise pulled away from him. "You're bright. And you're young. Maybe you could pass one of the Quizzes, if you had help. Every year a few hundred young men like you win classifications. And Cartwright's Quizmaster now. That might help."

"How did you vote?" Thompson shouted at her. "Good God, did you vote to go back?"

"I didn't vote. I'm just waiting."

Ralf Butler nodded curtly, and Nat Gardner moved for­ward. Butler and Paul Flood stood together watching tensely. Behind them Jack McLean remained warily in the doorway of the control bubble.

"This won't take long, Captain," Gardner said shyly. He was grimy and sweaty, straight from the reactor chambers where he had been going over the pipes to the firing jets.

Groves laid down his navigation instruments and removed his glasses. "Well?" he demanded. "What do you want? You seem to be the spokesman."

Jack McLean spoke up, confident and unhampered. "Captain, we're heading back home."

There was silence. The baldness of the statement had shocked everyone, including Butler. He glared angrily at McLean; the salesman shrugged and moved away.

"What's this about a vote?" Groves asked. "Konklin tells me you took some sort of vote and removed Cartwright. He tells me you replaced him with that." Groves indicated the sloppy, food-stained figure of Dr. Flood.

"Look at it this way, Captain," Gardner went on quickly, flushed and embarrassed. "There's no reason for this trip, now. Not with Cartwright as Quizmaster. Is there?" Gardner's voice was humble, pleading, and he glanced round nervously for support. "Cartwright didn't know he was going to become One."

"He knew before we took off," Groves said.

Gardner blinked uncertainly. "Let's get back to Earth where things are happening. We made Flood President of the Society, and his orders are to turn back."

"That's right," Flood said quietly, his pulpy fingers fiddling aimlessly with the lapel of his coat. "You're under orders to me, Groves."

Groves didn't respond. His massive face was thoughtful as he mulled over what Konklin had told him and what he had decided on his own. He said finally: "If you try to interfere with the course of the ship I'll lock you all up."

"If you don't turn back," Flood said, "we'll put some­body else up here."

"Who?" Groves challenged.

Butler answered, as Flood had momentarily floundered. "All we do is signal the base at Pluto for a patrol ship to grapple us down."

It was true, Groves realized. If he didn't turn the ship it would be in Verrick's hands in a matter of hours. He moved towards the door.

"Where're you going?" Flood demanded excitedly.

"To the hold. I want to know if a vote was really taken." Groves started along the corridor; the delegation streamed after him.

"Consider!" Flood gasped, "with Cartwright Quiz­master we can explore officially, and on a vast scale."

"If a Directorate finds the Disc," Groves pointed out, "it will belong to the Directorate and not to us." He halted at the entrance hatch of the cargo hold. "Konklin," he called.

Konklin pushed through the delegation.

Groves pondered, his face distorted in concentration. "I can take your word. Did they really take a vote?"

Konklin wanted to scream. Of course they hadn't taken a real vote! Only a faked, strong-arm vote, with a gun, knives and fists. He opened his mouth—but the muzzle of Butler's gun glinted. They were watching him: Butler, McLean, Flood, all with the same confident look.

"That's right," Konklin croaked, courage leaking out of him. "They took a vote."

Groves nodded. "If the majority wants to turn back," he said slowly, "then maybe we ought to give this thing up."

Groves entered the cargo hold. Listless shapes were watching him. Silent and unmoving, they waited.

Groves said to Butler: "We'll return the way we came. We'll deal with the Directorate and no one else."

Butler said easily: "You can set her down at Batavia. We'll send no signals."

Groves turned to the waiting grey shapes. "Because of your vote we're going back. You're the Society; if the Society has made up its mind to go back, that's it."

One of the Japanese optical workers approached Captain Groves. He bowed and straightened up again.

"Captain," he said in a reedy tenor, "I suggest a vote be taken in your presence. The results Mr. Butler obtained——"

Butler smashed the Japanese in the face. The little man's spectacles broke and shattered and he slid back, a suddenly crumpled doll. Butler snatched out his gun and spun towards Groves. He fumbled wildly for the switch as Groves reached into his own leather jacket.

Aiming calmly, Groves shot Butler's head to fragments.

Groves then swung round to cover Nat Gardner. Dr. Flood crouched and fired wildly. Konklin came to life and kicked Flood in the groin. Flood, his face a sickly grey, retched violently.

"I was down in the reactors," Gardner said slowly. "He told me..." Anger suffused his features. "You son of a bitch!" he said thickly, and headed straight for McLean. McLean smashed at him with a length of pipe. All at once everyone was fighting desperately in a dusty inferno.

The women were screaming shrilly, milling back and forth and trying to drag their children and possessions to safety. For a moment the crazed shape of Janet Sibley emerged, a frenzied figure smashing at one of the Mexicans with a section of metal railing.

It was a long time before the fury began to die but gradually it spent itself. Finally the figures lay about the cargo hold, exhausted.

Jereti managed to struggle awkwardly to his feet. He hung to the wall, shuddering and plucking at his broken teeth.

"Butler's dead," Thompson said, his voice thin with horror. "He has no head." He began to giggle hysterically.

"Shut up!" Groves said sharply. "Anybody else dead?"

"I don't think so," Louise Tyler answered. "But a lot are hurt."

"The son of a bitch," Gardner repeated monotonously as he kicked at the unconscious form of Jack McLean, "came down and told me they took a fair vote."

Doctor Flood was a frightened blob of quivering flesh, his gold-tooth smile a leer of pain. "It was all Butler's idea," he stammered as Konklin approached him. "I went along with him like everybody else."

"You want to resign your position?" Konklin asked.

Flood agreed eagerly. "It was all Butler's idea. I never———"

"We'd better put a guard on the transmitter," Groves said, "so that nobody can put through a call to Neptune."

He stood pondering a moment, then moved slowly out of the cargo hold. A few minutes later he was back in the control bubble.