That was the last straw for Hanson. He'd been trying, and trying hard. But now he exploded.
"Biggs!" he roared, "You've ruined this cargo! Now you're relieved from your command! But before you report to your quarters, I want every bit of this mess cleaned up. And I mean every last bit, understand? Junk it! Clear it out!"
Biggs faltered, "B-but, Captain, I only tried to—"
"You heard me!"
The skipper wheeled, fiery with wrath, and strode to the doorway. I hurried after him. I whispered in his ear, "Take it easy, Captain. He's the vice-president's nephew. Maybe you ought to go slow!"
"Slow?" groaned the skipper. "A fifty thousand dollar cargo ruined—and you tell me to go slow? I'll see that idiotic son-of-a-space-wrangler fryin' in chaos. I'll blast him out of space if I'm blacklisted for it!"
I said nothing more. What was there to say? Fifty thousand bucks worth of cargo rotting in the hold. The Board would love that!
That was all until the next morning. The next morning I was on the bridge when Captain Hanson had a visitor. Garrity, the Chief Engineer. Garrity never came to the bridge. So I knew, the minute I saw him, that something was vitally wrong.
It was. Garrity's first words made that clear. He glared at the skipper accusingly from eyes that were still faintly purpled.