Earth Transit
By CHARLES L. FONTENAY
Illustrated by KLUGA
When murder occurs on a spaceship,
the number of suspects is at an absolute
minimum—and Lefler was that minimum!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Infinity September 1957.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The centerdeck chronometer said 1840 hours.
That startled Lefler into full wakefulness. He was forty minutesoverdue in relieving Makki in the control room.
That wasn't like Makki, he thought as he pulled on his coverallshastily. Makki was as punctual—and as thorough—as the maze ofmachinery whose destiny he guided. He was as cold as that machinery,too, when others made a mistake. It made him an efficient spaceshipcaptain and a disliked man.
Lefler shook his head to clear it of dream-haunted memories. Hehad awakened from a nightmare in which, somewhere, there was angryshouting, to find himself floating midway from floor to ceiling of thecenterdeck of the Marsward IV. Somehow, his retaining straps hadbecome unbuckled, letting him float free of his bunk in his sleep.
Not pausing to fold his bunk back against the curving hull, Lefler madehis way briskly up the companionway, through the empty and darkenedastrogation deck and into the control room.
"Makki," he called to the figure reclining in the control chair."Makki, I'm due to relieve you. You're forty minutes overtime."
There was no answer. Floating up to the control chair, Lefler recoiled,bouncing painfully off the automatic pilot.
Makki was dead. Death had robbed his wide eyes of their dark scorn andsmoothed the bitter lines of his heavy face. His coveralls were charredaround the heat-beam burn in his chest.
The heat-gun bumped against Lefler's shoulder and drifted away at anangle across the gravityless control room. Lefler stared after it inhorror.
Licking dry lips, he punched the communicator button.
"Blue alert!" he croaked into the microphone. "All hands to controlroom. Blue alert!"
Anchoring himself to the automatic pilot, he studied Makki's body asdispassionately as he could. The captain was still strapped in thecushioned chair. Oddly, he was wearing gloves.
The log-tape was in the recorder beside the control chair. Clipped toa metal leaf on the stanchion beside the chair was Makki's notepad.Scrawled on it in the captain's handwriting was the notation: "73rdday. Earth transit."
"What's up, Lefler?" asked a voice behind him. Lefler turned to faceTaat, the ship's doctor. Taat, a plump, graying man, was wiping hishands on the white smock he wore.
Lefler moved aside, letting Taat see Makki's body. Taat's eyes widenedmomentarily, then narrowed with a professional gleam. He steppedquickly to Makki's side, made as if to pick up the dead captain'swrist, then turned back to Lefler with a fatalistic flick of his hands.
"What was it, Lefler?" he asked in a low voice. "A fight?"
"I don't know," said Lefler. "I found him that way."
Taat raised his eyebrows.
"Robwood?" he asked softly.
Robwood's head poked up through the companionway, and he floated intothe control room. There was a streak of grease across the engineer'sthin face.
"Great space!" exclaimed Robwood at once. "What happened to Makki?"
"Obviously, he's been shot," said Lefler in an even voice. "Any idea