His Share of Glory The Complete Short Science Fiction

The door smoothly swung open into the communication tube that ran the length of the ship.

"Come!" She lugged Star Macduff with her, pushing him ahead through the tube, to the Executive's Office.

"Sorry to interrupt. This must blow your plans up into the air, I know.

But this man's sick and I don't feel—very—well …"

Her iron will gave way and she collapsed at the feet of the Executive and Yancey Mears. "Whatever it is, it hasn't hit us yet. Check with the ratings, Yancey."

"E.O.'s office—count off, somebody, and report."

"All present and in good order, Officer. What's that noise we heard?"

"Experiments. Cut!"

"Cut, Officer."

"They heard it too, Will. What is it?"

"Star—couldn't explain mathematically …doubt if you can."

"Thanks, Mamie."

"Ai-i—lul-lul-lul-lull…"

The Computator and the Psychologist rose, looking startled.

"How do you feel?"

"All right. It passed like a shadow. Now let's get down to work. What's the noise? That is the immediate problem."

"Mamie said you couldn't crack it. If you can't by using logic I doubt that anybody can. How about opening the direct window?"

"Use all precautions and checks if you do. I say yes."

"You women?"

They nodded silently; Will Archer set into operation the motors that would unlock a segment of the hull and peel it aside like an orange.

Noiselessly the bolts slipped; into the brilliantly lighted office there seemed to steal the gloom of blackest space as a section of the wall apparently slid aside and opened into the vacuum. There was the merest hint of reflection from the synthetic transparent which masked them from space, and that was due to the lightly tinted shields in operation.

"Look at this index jump," said Mamie Tung, pointing at an instrument board with a sharp finger. "It's sky-high when you take the hull off.

Metal's stopping the cosmic rays."

"It shouldn't," observed the Executive Officer.

"Let the logician in," said Star Macduff studying the dial. "If we're near the source of the rays, it well might. Metal has failed in the past to stop diffused cosmic rays, the things that reach Earth after plowing through trillions of cubic miles of dust, free electrons, air and what have you. If we're encountering them direct from the source, unaltered by reflection, diffraction or diffusion, their properties may be entirely altered."

"Very good, Star. The Question is still unanswered as to what the cosmic rays are. We have not yet seen the source of which we're speaking.

Madame, ask the ratings to revolve the ship about its axis. We need a clean sweep of the heavens. Keep them on the wire."

"Ai lull-lull—luh …"

"E.O.'s office. Rating Five, revolve the Sphere on its axis at low speed."

"All right, Officer."

Will Archer reclined in an angled seat commanding the direct window; he extinguished the lights of the office with a flick.

"Commence the rotation."

"Commence, Rating Five."

"Yes, Officer."

The starless heaven wheeled and spun above him as the E.O. stared through the invisible synthetic.

"Stop!"

"Yes, Officer!"

"Back three degrees."

"Back three degrees, Officer."

The sphere wheeled slowly, cautiously.

"See it?" demanded Will Archer.

The others stared into the blackness.

"I believe I do," finally said Yancey Mears. "A sort of luminescence?"

"That's right. Like stars beginning to come out as a fog lifts. Anybody else see it?" "I. It's changing shape—see the upper left there?"

"Portside of the universe, beyond any Earthly telescope. They could just barely see us from Andromeda with a thousand-incher. I'd say we're about on the edge of the cosmos. I'd give you the figures, only they wouldn't mean anything to you."

"Ai-luh …"

"Now explain that one, Star."

"The appearances are: we are approaching a body which is like no known star, nebula, planet, dust-tract or gas-cloud. It seems, furthermore, to be the source of cosmic rays. As out nearness to this body became significant, stresses have been appearing in the ship which make very alarming noises. Two of the complement passed out temporarily for no known reason and with no after-effects yet noticeable."

"Fine. Take the specific gravity of that thing now."

Star Macduff stared curiously, shrugged, and ran the observations off.

Silently he handed over the tape.

"Protoplasm," said the executive officer.

"It could be. Then the cosmic rays are …"

"Mitogenic."

The ship trembled again; the Psychologist stared in horror at Will Archer. "What's happening to us?" she cried.

"I don't know. We're working out the problem assigned, however. I assume that you and Star succumbed to the mitogenic rays temporarily, the way yeast-buds die under a concentrated stare from a human being. Since you're both tougher than yeast-buds you recovered. I don't know what kept Yancey and me from going under."

"Consider, Will," said Star Macduff agitatedly. "Think of what you're doing. This ship's going right into the eye of a monster piece of protoplasm that's nearly knocked off two of the complement without even trying."

"If anybody has an alternative to suggest…?"

They were silent.