Astounding British Edition, Volume 8, No. 11 — page 40: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

38 throat—ceremonjally, I believe. Will you do that?” Roki shrugged. He had been away from Coph a long time. He didn’t know. “A stupid custom,” she said. “It manages to drain off the fools, doesn’t it? It’s better than having society try them and execute them forcibly for their crimes. On Coph, a'man doesn’t need to be afraid of society. He needs only to be afraid of his own weakness. Society’s function is to pro- tect individuals against unfortunate acci- dents, but not against their own blunders, And when a man blunders, Coph simply excludes him from the protectorate. As an outcast, he sacrifices himself. It’s not too bad a system.” “You can have it.” “Dalethian?” “Yeah?” “You have no personal anger against what I did?” She frowned at him contemptuously. “Uh-uh! I judge no one. I judge no one unless I’m personally involved. Why are you worried about what others think?” “In our more highly developed society,” he said stiffly, “a man inevitably grows a set of thinking-habits called ‘conscience.’ ” “Oh—yeah.” Her dull tone indicated a complete lack of interest. . Again Roki wondered if she would think of making a quick bit of cash by informing Solarian officials of his identity. He began a mental search for a plan to avoid such possible treachery. They ate and slept by the ship’s clock. On the tenth day, Roki noticed a deviation in the readings of the radiation-screen instruments. The shape of the screen shell was gradually trying to drift toward mini- mum torsion, and assume a spherical shape. He pointed it out to Daleth, and she quickly made the necessary readjustments. But the output of the reactors crept a notch higher as a result of the added drain. Roki wore an ,apprehensive frown as the flight pro- gressed. Two days later, the screen began creep- ing again. Once more the additional power was applied. And the reactor output needle hung in the yellow band of warning. The field-generators were groaning and shivering with threatening overload. Roki worked furiously to locate the trouble, and at last he found it. He returned to the control cabin in a cold fury. “Did you have this ship pre-flighted before blast-off?” he demanded. ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION Her mouth fluttered with amusement as she watched his anger. “Certainly, com- mander.” He flushed at the worthless title. “May I see the papers?” For a moment she hesitated, then fumb- led in her pocket and displayed a folded pink paper. “Pink!” he roared. “You had no business taking off!” . Haughtily, she read him the first line of the pre-flight report. “ ‘Base personnel dis- claim any responsibility for accidents result- ing from flight of Daleth Ship—’ It doesn’t say I can’t take off.” “Tll see you banned from space!” he growled. She gave him a look that reminded him of his current status. It was a tolerant, amused stare. “What’s wrong, commander?” “The synchronizers are out, that’s all,” he fumed. “Screen’s getting farther and farther from resonance.” “So?” “So the overload’ll get worse, and the screen’ll break down. You'll have to drop back down out of the C-component and get it repaired.” She shook her head. “We'll chance it like it is. I’ve always wanted to find out how much overload the reactor’ll take.” Roki choked. There wasn’t a chance of making it. “Are you a graduate space engineer?” he asked. *“No.”’ “Then you'd better take one’s advice.” “Yours?” “Ves.” “No! We’re going on.” “Suppose I refuse to let you?” She whirled quickly, eyes flashing. “I’m in command of my ship. I’m also armed. I suggest you return to your quarters, passenger.” 2 Roki sized up the situation, measured the determination in the girl’s eyes, and decided that there was only one thing to do. He shrugged and looked away, as if admitting her authority. She glared at him for a moment, but did not press her demand that he leave the control room. As soon as she glanced back at the instruments, Roki padded his rough knuckles with a handker- chief, selected a target at the back of her short crop of dark hair, and removed her objections with a short chopping blow to the head, “Sorry, friend,” he murmured as he lifted her limp body out of the seat. He carried her to Bes QDAtTEES and placed OMlGIdOokS=co