Starman Jones

An Imperial military ship in landing on a strange spot would normally guide a radar-beacon robot down first, then home in on the beacon. But the _Asgard_ was a merchant liner; she expected to land nowhere but at ports equipped with beams and beacons and other aids. Consequently the landing was made blind by precomputed radar-automatic and was pla

Simes presented a picture of the alert pilot, hands poised at the controls, eyes on the radar screen portraying the view below them, while racked in front of him were comparison photographs, radar and visual. The let down was without incident; starry black sky gave way to deep purple, then to blue. There was not even a jar as the ship touched, for its private gravity inside its Horstian field kept them from feeling impressed acceleration. Max knew they were down when he saw Simes cut in the thrust beams to cradle the ship upright.

Simes said to the microphone, "Power room, start auxiliaries and secure. All hands, dirtside routine, first section." He turned to Blaine. "Grounded, Captain."

Blaine's lips shaped the words, "Very good, sir." He got up and shuffled toward the hatch. When he had gone Simes ordered, "Lundy, take stand-by watch. The rest of you clear the control room."

Max went down with Kelly. When they reached "A" deck Max said grudgingly, "It was a smart landing I'll have to admit."

"Thanks," said Kelly.

Max glanced at him. "So you calculated it?"

"I didn't say that. I just said, 'Thanks.'"

"So? Well, you're welcome." Max felt his weight pulse and suddenly he was a trifle lighter. "They cut the field. Now we're really down."

He was about to invite Kelly into his room for the inevitable coffee when the ship's speakers sounded: "All hands! All passengers! Report to Bifrost Lounge for an important a

"What's up?" asked Max.

"Why wonder? We'll go see."

The lounge was crowded with passengers and crew. First Officer Walther stood near the Captain's table, counting the crowd with his eyes. Max saw him speak to Be

There was a lessening of the murmur of voices; Max looked around to see Be

He went on, "I've called you together because Captain Blaine has something he wants to say to you." He stopped and stepped back respectfully.

Captain Blaine slowly stood up, looked uncertainly around. Max saw him square his thin shoulders and lift his head. "Men," he said, his voice suddenly firm and strong. "My guests and friends--" he went on, his voice sinking. There was a hush in the lounge, Max could hear the Captain's labored breathing. He again asserted control of himself and continued, "I have brought you ... I have brought you as far as I can..." His voice trailed off. He looked at them for a long moment, his mouth trembling. It seemed impossible for him to continue. The crowd started to stir.

But he did continue and they immediately quieted. "I have something else to say," he began, then paused. This pause was longer, when he broke it his voice was a whisper. "I'm sorry. God keep you all." He turned and started for the door.

Be

Mr. Walther's sharp, clear voice rang out. "Don't go away, anyone! I have additional a

"So far, we have seen no indications of civilized life. On the whole, that seems a good thing. Now as to our resources-- The _Asgard_ carries a variety of domestic animals, they will be useful and should be conserved as breeding stock. We have an even wider variety of useful plants, both in the ship's hydroponic gardens and carried as seeds. We have a limited but adequate supply of tools. Most important of all the ship's library contains a fair cross-section of our culture. Equally important, we ourselves have our skills and traditions ..."

"Mr. Walther!"

"Yes, Mr. Hornsby?"

"Are you trying to tell us that you are dumping us here?"

Walther looked at him coldly. "No. Nobody is being 'dumped' as you put it. You can stay in the ship and you will be treated as a guest as long as the _Asgard_-- or you yourself--is alive. Or until the ship reaches the destination on your ticket. If it does. No, I have been trying to discuss reasonably an open secret; this ship is lost."

A voiceless sigh went through the room. All of them knew it, but up till now it had not been admitted officially. The flat a

"Let me state the legal position," Mr. Walther went on. "While this ship was in space you passengers were subject to the authority of the Captain, as defined by law, and through him you were subject to me and the other ship's officers. Now we have landed. You may go freely ... or you may stay. Legally this is an unscheduled stopover; if the ship ever leaves here you may return to it and continue as passengers. That is my responsibility to you and it will be carried out. But I tell you plainly that at present I have no hope to offer that we will ever leave here--which is why I spoke of colonizing. We are lost."

In the rear of the room a woman began to scream hysterically, with incoherent sounds of, "... home! I want to go home! Take me ..."

Walther's voice cut through the hubbub. "Dumont! Fla

He continued as if nothing had happened. "The ship and the ship's crew will give every assistance possible, consistent with my legal responsibility to keep the ship in commission, to aid any of you who wish to colonize. Personally I think ..."

A surly voice cut in, "Why talk about 'law'? There is no law here!"

Walther did not even raise his voice. "But there is. As long as this ship is in commission, there is law, no matter how many light-years she may be from her home port. Furthermore, while I have no authority over any who choose to leave the ship, I strongly advise you to make it your first act dirtside to hold a town meeting, elect officers, and found a constitutional government. I doubt that you can survive otherwise."

"Mr. Walther."

"Yes, Mr. Daigler?"

"This is obviously no time for recriminations ..."

"Obviously!"

Daigler gri

"Good! We'll use your knowledge."

"Will you let me finish? A prime principle in maintaining a colony out of touch with its supply base is to make it large enough. It's a statistical matter, too small a colony can be overwhelmed by a minor setback. It's like going into a dice game with too little money: three bad rolls and you're sunk. Looking around me, it's evident that we have much less than optimal minimum. In fact--"

"It's what we have, Mr. Daigler."