One Was Stubbron by L. Ron Hubbard Read Free Book Online Page B

smartly enough to knock out a couple of windowpanes.
    From it stepped a splendid young captain who approached the waiting group and saluted the admiral.
    â€œCaptain Congreve, sir, reporting to relieve the exec. I— Oh, hello, Pettigrew!”
    There was so much warmth in Congreve’s voice that Banning was startled.
    â€œYou know this man?” cried Banning.
    â€œI certainly do. And I can recommend him to you heartily,” said Congreve. “Picked him myself after Universal Admiral Collingsby swore him in. He invented the billion-light-year fuel capsule. You’ve heard of him, haven’t you? Well, you must have: I see you’ve been on a mission already.”
    â€œYes, sir,” said Pettigrew. “I was sent off to get a quart of rudey rays.”
    â€œA … a what?”
    â€œAnd I got ’em,” said Pettigrew, pulling a flat jar from his sagging jacket. “Had quite a time and near got sizzled but they’re tame enough. I saturated sponge iron with them and the filings are all here. Kind of a funny way to carry the stuff but I guess you Navy guys know what you are doing.”
    â€œRudey rays?” said Banning.
    â€œThousand-year half-life,” said Pettigrew, “and completely harmless. Good brake fuel. Won’t destroy grass. By golly, Mr. Carpdyke, it was awful smart of you to figure these things out. They ain’t in any catalogue and I sure didn’t know they existed.”
    Technicians passed the flask from hand to hand gingerly. The counters on their wrists sang power innocuous to man and sang it loud.
    â€œThat’s all I could get this trip. Nebula One, right slam bang center of the Universe,” said Pettigrew. “Well, there she is. If you’ll excuse me, I don’t look much like a naval officer and I better change my clothes.”
    They stared after him as he went to quarters, the master-at-arms trotting after to break out his impounded gear.
    There was a queer dazed look about Carpdyke. But Banning was not dazed. He fired some fast, smart questions at the technicians and when they had examined the fuel in the lab, they gave him some pretty positive answers.
    Banning stood looking at Carpdyke, then, but not seeing him. Banning was seeing sixteen stars blazing on the side of a flagship and maybe not a whole year away after all.
    â€œSir,” stammered Carpdyke, “I’m sorry. It came out all right but I know I jeopardized equipment. He looked so young and green and I figured it would take a lot of roasting to make him an officer and I never intended he would actually get off the base—”
    Captain Congreve looked mirthfully at Carpdyke, for the captain understood the situation now.
    â€œCommander,” said Congreve, “I wouldn’t let this throw you. You see, the reason Collingsby swore that man in as an ensign and not as a lieutenant was because Pettigrew had something of a reputation in the Empire Mail.”
    â€œA reputation?” said Carpdyke.
    â€œYes,” said Congreve, gently. “A reputation as a practical joker, Commander, and he’d been warned about you.”
    â€œA pract … a practical—” began Carpdyke, feeling most ungodly faint at what this would do to his reputation everywhere.
    â€œCarpdyke,” beamed Banning, clapping him on the shoulder in a most friendly, sixteen-star-blinded way, “supposing we all go over to the club and let you buy us a drink?”

240,000
Miles Straight Up

CHAPTER ONE
    Left at the Post
    T HE party
was wild. The night was gay. And the “Angel” was very, very drunk.
    But who wouldn’t have got drunk on such an occasion? The Angel was about
to head man’s first attempt to conquer space and within a few short hours he would
be boring space to the moon, 240,000 miles straight up.
    He had tried to stay sober but this, being without precedent in the
Angel’s career, was entirely too great a strain.