The Mammoth Book of Golden Age SF by Isaac Asimov Read Free Book Online Page A

Collision with a heavy, smaller body.”
    Tony paled. “You mean—” he said huskily. “Good heavens!” Sweat stood out on his forehead. “How soon will that happen?” he said ominously.
    “Well, Erle has the figures. Something over eighteen or nineteen days. It’ll be a crack-up that’ll shake the sun. And we’ll be here to witness it.” He smiled wryly. “I’m more scientist than man, I guess. I never stop to think we might die in the crack-up, and furnish six skeletons instead of one.”
    “There’ll be no skeletons,” Tony said, eyes narrowed. “For one thing, we can repair the ship, though we’ll have to work like mad. For another – I threw the ring into the river. It’s gone.”
    Laurette seemed to pale. “I . . . I don’t see how that could be done,” she stammered. “You couldn’t get rid of it, not really – could you?”
    “It’s gone,” Tony said stubbornly. “For good. And don’t forget it. There’ll be no skeleton. And you might try to impress that on Masters, so he doesn’t try to produce one,” he added significantly.
    He left the room with a nod, a few seconds later stepped into the lounge. Braker and Yates turned around. Both were cuffed.
    Tony took the key from his pocket and the cuffs fell away. In brief, pungent tones, then, he explained the situation, the main theme being that the ship had to be well away from the planet before the crack-up. Yates would go over the wiring system. Braker, Masters and Tony would work with oxyacetylene torches and hammers over the hole in the hull and the rocket jets.
    Then he explained about the ring.
    Yates ran a thin hand through his yellow hair.
    “You don’t do it that easy,” he said in his soft, effortless voice. “There’s a skeleton up there, and it’s got Braker’s ring on its finger. It’s got to be accounted for, don’t it? It’s either me or you or Braker or the girl or her old man or Masters. There ain’t any use trying to avoid it, either.” His voice turned sullen. He looked at Braker, then at Tony. “Anyway, I’m keeping my back turned the right way so there won’t be any dirty work.”
    Braker’s breath sounded. “Why, you dirty rat,” he stated. He took a step toward Yates. “You would think of that. And probably you’d try it on somebody else, too. Well, don’t go pulling it on me, understand.” He scowled. “And you better watch him, too, Crow. He’s pure poison – in case you got the idea we were friends.”
    “Oh, cut it out,” Tony said wearily. He added, “If we get the ship in working order, there’s no reason why all six of us shouldn’t get off – alive.” He turned to the door, waved Braker and Yates after him. Yet he was sickeningly aware that
his
back was turned to men who admittedly had no conscience to speak of.
     
    A week passed. The plain rang with sledgehammer strokes directed against the twisted tubes. Three were irreplaceable.
    Tony, haggard, tired, unbelievably grimed from his last trip up the twisted, hopeless-looking main blast tube, was suddenly shocked into alertness by sounds of men’s voices raised in fury outside the ship. He ran for the open air lock, and urged himself toward the ship’s stern. Braker and Yates were tangling it.
    “I’ll kill him!” Braker raged. He had a rock the size of his fist in his hand. He was attempting, apparently, to knock Jawbone Yates’ brains out. Erle Masters stood near, chewing nervously at his upper lip.
    With an oath, Tony wrenched the rock from Braker’s hand, and hauled the man to his feet. Yates scrambled erect, whimpering, mouth bleeding.
    Braker surged wildly toward him. “The dirty –!” he snarled. “Comes up behind me with an oxy torch!”
    Yates shrilled, backing up, “That’s a lie!” He pointed a trembling hand at Braker. “It was
him
that was going to use the torch on
me!
”
    “Shut up!” Tony bawled. He whirled on Masters. “You’ve got a nerve to stand there,” he snarled. “But then