Blow the Man Down

by Charles L. Fontenay

Albrekt switched off the heat beam and motioned at Migl with the gun. Watching them closely, Albrekt moved to the companionway and pushed himself up through the hatch.

Locking himself in the control room, he devoted himself to serious thought for a while. Despite his warning, this sort of thing was likely to happen often. Eventually it must succeed, if only by the law of averages.

The trouble was, Albrekt was actually at a slight disadvantage. He knew by now that the absolute need for companionship in space was not idle talk. He had no intention of coasting alone, in a silent ship, for five and a half more months, and being shot as hopelessly insane when his Flanjo colleagues picked him up at the rendezvous.

One solution, of course, was to kill two of the crew members. Then neither of the two men left could afford to kill the other. For several reasons, Albrekt preferred to find another solution. He had heard rumors that personality conflicts between two people cooped up together in a spaceship drove them eventually at each other's throats. Another factor was that, as long as there were three of the others, Albrekt could hold the threat of killing one or two of them over them. Besides, their technical knowledge would be valuable to the Flanjos, and Albrekt wanted to face no disciplinary action for destroying any of them unnecessarily.

What was the substance of their threat to him, then? He examined it. Their threat was that they might reach the control room. He could not lock it from the outside, and he must come outside for good food and necessary companionship, so that line of reasoning got him nowhere.

But what was behind the threat of their reaching the control room? They might (a) obtain weapons to match his own; (b) communicate the ship's position to warships of the Solar Council; (c) swing the ship off its prearranged course and avoid the rendezvous with the Flanjo vessel.

Solution? Albrekt laughed shortly. There was a solution to all three problems.

With his heat gun, he reduced the radio transmitter to a molten mess. Now the By Jove! could still receive, but not send.

Piling all the heat guns in the center of the room, he gave them the same treatment. The beam left them almost unrecognizeable in the midst of a shallow crater. He had come very near to burning a hole through into the navigation deck.

The last step was the most daring of all. It meant that he must trust absolutely to the accuracy of the two blast tapes he had run through the automatic pilot. He threw the switches that jettisoned the fuel tanks.