demanded.
Even within the thick padding of my gloves, my knuckles hurt like hell. “Something that should have been done a long time ago,” I murmured.
Cute line. I used up the last of my luck that way. I scrambled at the helm console for several more minutes before I submitted to the inevitable. Like the navigation controls, the engineering subsystem wouldn't obey my commands without the proper passwords. It was possible that they were written down somewhere, but I didn't have the time or inclination to go searching through the operations manuals, especially since most of them were strewn across the bridge like so much garbage.
We weren't out of options yet. There was still one final alternative, one which McKinnon himself had given us.
It was then that I knew that Captain Future had to die.
* * * *
"Captain Future is dead!"
The rumbling voice of the big green Jovian space-sailor rose above the laughter and chatter and clink of goblets, in this crowded Venusopolis spacemen's cafe. He eyed his little knot of companions at the bar, as though challenging them to dispute him.
One of a hard-bitten spacemen, a swarthy little Mercurian, shook his head thoughtfully.
"I'm not so sure. It's true that the Futuremen have been missing for months. But they'd be a hard bunch to kill."
—Hamilton; Outlaws of the Moon (1942)
As I write, I'm back on the Moon, occupying a corner table in Sloppy Joe's. It's close to closing time; the crowds have thinned out and the bartender has rung the bell for last call. He'll let me stay after he closes the doors, though. Heroes never get booted out with the riff-raff, and there's been no shortage of free drinks ever since I returned from Ceres.
After all, I'm the last person to see Captain Future alive.
The news media helped us maintain our alibi. After all, it was a story that had everything. Adventure, romance, blood and guts, countless lives at stake. Best of all, a noble act of self-sacrifice. It'll make a great vid. I sold the rights yesterday.
Because it's been so widely told, you already know how the story ends. Realizing that he had been fatally infected with Titan Plague, Bo McKinnon—excuse me, Captain Future—issued his final instructions as commanding officer of the TBSA Comet .
He told me to return to the ship, and once I was safely aboard, he ordered Jeri to cast off and get the Comet as far away as possible.
Realizing what he intended to do, we tried to talk him out of it. Oh, and how we argued and pleaded with him, telling him that we could place him in biostasis until we returned to Earth, where doctors could attempt to save his life.
In the end, though, McKinnon simply cut off his comlink so that he could meet his end with dignity and grace.
Once the Comet was gone and safely out of range, Captain Future managed to instruct the mass-driver's main computer to overload the vessel reactors. While he sat alone in the abandoned bridge, waiting for the countdown, there was just enough time for him to transmit one final message of courage...
Don't make me repeat it, please. It's bad enough that the Queen read it aloud during the memorial service, but now I understand that it's going to be inscribed upon the base of twice-life size statue of McKinnon that's going to be erected at Arsia Station. Jeri did her best when she wrote it, but between you and me, I still think it's a complete crock.
Anyway, the thermonuclear blast not only obliterated the Fool's Gold , but it also sufficiently altered the trajectory of 2046-Barr. The asteroid came within five thousand kilometers of Mars; its close passage was recorded by the observatory on Phobos, and the settlements in the Central Meridian reported the largest micrometeor shower in the history of the colonies.
And now Bo McKinnon is remembered as Captain Future, one of the greatest heroes in the history of humankind.
It was the least Jeri could have done for him.
Considering what a jerk Bo had been all the way to the end, I
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