Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

6 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION TI] sign.” Noticing Garver’s hand for the first time, Vanderhoff replied, “‘I said I wanted a jetman—a good one. I’ve got some repair work below.” “IT can do it.” “What do you know? Where have you been? What have you done and how long have you done it?” “Fifteen years in space, twelve of them as jetman and the last three as first mate of the Timurlane,’’ Garver announced. “Can you handle jets with that hand?’’ Vanderhoff asked. Flexing his hand expertly, Garver nodded. “‘Give me a hoist, and I can put in anything... There isn’t a drive system I: don’t know inside and out.” Another load of cargo came out, and Vanderhoff was silent for a moment as he scribbled on his clip- board. Then, with expressionless un- concern, he ran out a quick calculation on a small slide rule. “All right, Garver. Glad to have you aboard.” Grinning, Garver replied, “Glad to be aboard, Skipper. I'll do my best.” “I know you will. Go aboard and take a look below. We’ve got some repairs to make. I'll be up in control as soon as I finish checking. Come up and you can sign.” Feeling better than he had in weeks, Garver entered the lock and dropped down the ladder past the fuel tanks. The Fafnir was old, but he could see she was sound. She’d get him back to Terra! - Back to Terra! He was going home! Going back to do the things he’d always wanted to do, things he’d never had a chance to do, and things he hadn’t done since he was a kid. Going home— : He didn’t stop to inquire why he’d gotten the break. The power room “down under” was familiar. In this class of ship, the fission pile and jets were below with the pile controls and fuel pumps in the power room. The tanks, holding more than sixty tons of fuel, were above him and “forward.” The layout of the Ring Class power rooms was orderly and functional. But the Fafnir’s power room was a mess. Her floor plates were buckled with heat. The pile controls were damaged, out of adjustment, or just out of commission—period. The Number-Four fuel pump was frozen, and leaking lubricant. But the tanks were tight as well as the lines, and the electrical system seemed to be in fair shape. All the tools needed to put things in working order were racked or around the rack. There was a hoist in the overhead. The ship could not lift in her present condition but Garver could make her fly again. The place was full of smells that Garver didn’t recognize at first. Then, through the reek of oil and lubricants and scorched paint, he smelled some- thing new. It wasn’t pleasant; the smell of cooked flesh was most preva- lent around the jetman’s couch. Garver knew why Vanderhoff needed a new jetman. The blowers still worked, so Garver started clearing the air. He opened the hatches to let in light and air, then proceeded to pick up around the place. He’d just hung the remains of the acceleration pad out the hatch when Vanderhoff called him to come forward. The control room was roomy and comfortable. In her earlier days, the Fafnir had been a luxury ship, carry- ing a full crew of eight as well as pas- sengers. Vanderhoff had converted her to a cargo ship, for Garver had noticed that three of the passenger decks below had been stripped for use as cargo spaces. As a free trader, Vanderhoff had little use for passengers. Cargo Comichbookscom