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Updated: June 10, 2025
Talking about assignments wasn't considered good practice, but Rip was burning with curiosity. "You don't by chance know what my assignment is, do you?" The captain's eyebrows went up. "Don't you?" Rip shook his head. "O'Brine hasn't told me." "I don't know a thing," Southwick said. "We got instructions to pack up a pretty strange assortment of supplies for the Scorpius, and that's all I know.
For a long moment his glance locked with Rip's, then he roared with laughter. Rip grinned his relief. "My apologies, sir." "Accepted," O'Brine chuckled. "I'm rather sorry I don't have an excuse for dumping you in the space pot, though, Foster. Your explanation is acceptable, but I have a suspicion that you enjoyed calling me names." "I might have," Rip admitted, "but I wasn't in very good shape.
Mercury, however, loomed larger and larger. They would pass close to the hot planet. O'Brine recalled Rip to the Scorpius and handed him a message. Asteroid now within protection reach of Mercury and Terra bases. Your escort no longer required. Proceed immediately Titan, take on cargo and personnel. The commander sighed. "Looks like I'll never get to Earth long enough to see my family."
He saluted Commander O'Brine and reported, "This is all, sir. We filled the order exactly as Terra sent it. Is there anything else you need?" O'Brine turned to his deputy. "Find out," he ordered. "This is our last chance. We have plenty of basic supplies, but we may be short of audio-mags and other things for the men." He turned his back on the Planeteer captain and walked away.
O'Brine gave him a grim smile. "Certainly not, Foster. It's against orders to start anything with Consops cruisers. You know why. The situation is so tense that a fight between two spaceships might plunge Earth into war." His smile got even grimmer. "But you never know. The Consops ship might fire first. Or an accident might happen." The commander leaned forward.
Rip tried to keep a straight face. He said mildly, "Sir, I'm surprised you even give me a chance to explain." "I wouldn't have," O'Brine said frankly. "I would have shot off a special message to Earth, relieving you of command and asking for Discipline Board action. But when I saw those Connie prisoners, I knew there was more to this than just a young space pup going vack-wacky."
At the door he turned. "Better come along, Foster." Rip followed as the commander led the way to his own quarters. At the door two space officers were waiting, their faces grave. O'Brine motioned them to chairs. "All right, let's have it." The senior space officer held out a sheet of flimsy. It was pale blue, the color used for highly confidential documents.
"What for?" "The commander's orders. Don't give me any arguments. Just get aboard." "I can't argue with a loaded gun," Rip said wearily. He called to his men. "We're under arrest. I don't know why. Don't try to resist. Do as the spacemen order." Rip got aboard the nearest landing boat, his head spinning. O'Brine had made a mistake of some kind.
"I'll need all possible data on the asteroid's speed, orbit, and physical measurements. I will have to figure a new orbit and what it will take to blast the mass into it." "We'll get those. The orbit will not be exact, of course. We have only two reference points. But I think we'll come pretty close." O'Brine nodded. "Do what you can, Chief.
This ship is powered by a nuclear reactor in other words, an atomic pile. You've heard of one?" Rip controlled his voice, but his red hair stood on end with anger. O'Brine was being deliberately insulting. This was stuff any Planeteer recruit knew. "I've heard, sir." "Fine. It's more than I had expected. Well, Foster, a nuclear reactor produces heat. Great heat.
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