The Tenth Planet Read Online Free PDF Page B

at all.”
    “Now you are being really helpful.”
    “Wait!” Idris, who had been looking under the control console, backed out and stood up. “I remember something else. God rot me for a fool. I remember something else. Have you checked the emergency supplies locker?”
    “No.”
    “How many bulbs of booze should it contain?”
    “Eight half-litres.”
    “You remember we drank one each?”
    “Yes.”
    “Orlando, open the door very carefully. Count the bulbs.”
    Every compartment of a space vessel that could be made airtight in an emergency had, by regulation, to contain enough emergency food, water and medical supplies to sustain four people for two hundred hours. The regulation had been drawn up towards the end of the twentieth century when a vessel bound for Mars had been punctured amidships by a meteor. No one had been amidships at the time. Engine room personnel had been about their duties, and the navigation officers had all been on the nav deck. The automatic air-seals had functioned instantly upon impact. The air recycling systems in the engine room and on the navigation deck had continued to function. But before the stricken vessel could be reached, its crew had died of dehydration and starvation.
    “Seven bulbs, sir.”
    “There should now be six.”
    “I know.”
    “Don’t touch any of them, for Christ’s sake.”
    Idris went to the emergency locker, stood by Orlando, and regarded the bulbs.
    “They all look the same.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Now that the thing had been discovered, Idris felt extraordinarily calm, almost relieved.
    “The point is,” he said, “it didn’t matter what the bomb on the torus looked like. There was no reason for them to suppose we would need to inspect the legs. But anything planted inside had to blend with the scenery. When we have disposed of this device—whichever one it is—we shall then have to look for something that we would normally expect to find in the engine-room. But something extra … Now, which booze bulb contains the big kick, and what is its mechanism? Any suggestions, Orlando? Timing device, or disturbance device?”
    Orlando gazed at the row of harmless-looking bulbs clipped in a plastic support rack. “Both, I imagine. As you say, there was no reason for them to think that we would give the torus a going-over, so that one must have combined both systems. Chances are the fake bulb is the same. There is no hope of discovering which it is, because they all look alike. It probably contains a liquid explosive—maybe even good old-fashioned nitro-glycerine.”
    “My thinking, also.” Idris gave a grim laugh. “We were lucky. That would have been one hell of a drink to swallow … Now, let’s move quickly, but carefully. We don’t know which is the fatal bulb, so you are going to unscrew the support rack while I get into a space-suit. Then I will take the entire rack to the main air-lock and ease it out. O.K.?”
    “Yes, sir.” Orlando was already opening the tool locker. “The operation is going to take about fifteen minutes. Do you think—”
    “I don’t want to think. If you are religious start praying. Who knows—it may help.” Idris took one of the space-suits that, like emergency supplies, were regulation equipment for all compartments of the vessel. He tested the life-support system, then took off his trousers and shirt and began to encase himself in the cumbersome suit. Finally he locked the helmet on. Then Orlando had to talk to him by radio.
    “I have taken the bottom screws out and left the top screws very loose. You can remove them manually. I’ll check the air-lock and flood the compartment. Should I alert Suzy?”
    Through the visor of his space helmet, Idris could see Orlando’s lips moving. But the words he uttered seemed very far away. Maybe the suit’s battery was low.
    “No. Let Suzy sleep through it. I think—”
    Idris Hamilton did not complete his sentence. As he went towards the emergency supplies locker, there