Read Online Norton, Andre - Anthology by Gates to Tomorrow (v1.0) - Free Book Online Page B

forced a smile. He gestured toward the inner door. "Shall we go
in?"
                   Normally the four meter vats were glistening
green cylinders. Where vitiated air entered from below—because of higher carbon
dioxide content—the thick media was a brilliant, leafy green, which shaded to a
faint glaucous yellow at the top. The compartment should have had the sharp,
earthy fragrance of jungle vegetation.
                   A spasm of despair made Nord wince as he
walked into the compartment. The bottom of the cylinders was covered with a thick sediment of sepia-colored muck; ocherous splotches
and shafts of putrid yellow matter filled the vats. The surface was a jaundiced
froth, which bubbled over the top and lay on the metal deck like careless,
yolky splotches of sickly yellow paint. The warm, humid air was stifling, and
the odor of decay was a nauseating stench.
                   "Whew." Stacker wrinkled his nose in
disgust.
                   Corbett nodded silently, wiped his sweaty
brow. He turned to the air chief who walked into the compartment.
                   "Did you find any?" Stacker asked
eagerly.
                   "There isn't so much as a can of spare
stuff left anywhere," the chief said.
                   Dr. Stacker turned away, and Nord sensed he
did not care to discuss a patient's illness with a crew member. "We didn't
expect to find any spare media. While Mr. Bickford is ill, the space surgeon
will be acting air officer." He turned to the physician, waved toward the
sick-looking drums. "Can we do anything with this stuff? Resterilize it or
something?"
                   The doctor shook his head sadly. "Dump it
in space," he suggested with a wan smile.
                   "Not yet." Corbett hesitated to dump
anything in space except as a last resort. "It's still converting some
air." He led the way into Bickford's former office, prowled about the
office nervously, studied the air instruments, walked slowly back to the desk,
leaned on the corner.
                   "C0 2 content has gone up a tenth of a
point in the last hour. Hadn't you better start using the chemical
removers?"
                   "We won't use those until the per cent
gets much higher. Not until it reaches two point five or even three."
                   "I just noticed we have five thousand
kilos of oxygen stored in the bulkheads." A shade of bitterness crept into
his voice. "At least he left us that."
                   Dr. Stacker started figuring with stylus and
pad. "The average man," he calculated, "uses an average of five
kilos of oxygen in twenty-four hours. We have fifty men. That means twenty days
of normal oxygen supply."
                   "Which is what the bureau says will be
normal for all ships."
                   "Why not try and make it back to Earth.
We're only one hundred and three days out."
                   "I've thought of it," Corbett
admitted. "I refused to chart a cloud just a few hours ago because it
would take so long to reach terminal velocity once we went back to extropic
drive. At our present velocity we couldn't divert at better than a hundred
angstroms of angular radius. It would take almost two months to complete our
turn, and then we'd have to start decelerating for Earth. If we slow and turn,
we couldn't reach terminal velocity before having to decelerate again. As far
as space time is concerned it's as far one way as it is the other."
                   The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Might as well keep on, then." His level voice was
so impersonal, Nord could not help but feel admiration
for him.
                   "Do you have any idea how we might
augment our air supply? Maybe," he suggested, "changing the rate of
air flow, temp, or number of charged ions might help us. You know," the
captain admitted candidly, "I don't even