The Sargasso of Space

debris of every sort.

The Pallas was drifting, not straight toward the wreck-pack, but in a course that promised to take the ship past it.

'We're not heading into the wreck-pack!' Liggett exclaimed. 'Maybe we'll drift past it, and on out the dead- area's other side!'

Captain Crain smiled mirthlessly. 'You're forgetting your space-mechanics, Liggett. We will drift along the wreck-pack's edge, and then will curve in and go round it in a closing spiral until we reach its edge.'

'Lord, who'd have thought there were so many wrecks here!' Kent marvelled. 'There must be thousands of them!'

'They've been collecting here ever since the first interplanetary rocket-ships went forth,' Crain reminded him. 'Not only meteor-wrecked ships, but ships whose mechanisms went wrong—or that ran out of fuel like ours—or that were captured and sacked, and then set adrift by space-pirates.'

The Pallas by then was drifting along the wreck-pack's rim at a half-mile distance, and Kent's eyes were running over the mass.

'Some of those ships look entirely undamaged. Why couldn't we find one that has fuel in its tanks, transfer it to our own tanks, and get away?' he asked.

Crain's eyes lit. 'Kent, that's a real chance! There must be some ships in that pack with fuel in them, and we can use the space-suits to explore for them!'

'Look, we're beginning to curve in around the pack now!' Liggett exclaimed.

The Pallas, as though loath to pass the wreck-pack, was curving inward to follow its rim. In the next hours it continued to sail slowly around the great pack, approaching closer and closer to its edge.

In those hours Kent and Crain and all in the ship watched with a fascinated interest that even knowledge of their own peril could not kill. They could see swift-lined passenger-ships of the Pluto and Neptune runs shouldering against small space-yachts with the insignia of Mars or Venus on their bows. Wrecked freighters from Saturn or Earth floated beside rotund grain-boats from Jupiter.

The debris among the pack's wrecks was just as varied, holding fragments of metal, dark meteors of differing size—and many human bodies. Among these were some clad in the insulated space-suits, with their transparent glassite helmets. Kent wondered what wreck they had abandoned hastily in those suits, only to be swept with it into the dead-area, to die in their suits.

By the end of that ship-day, the Pallas, having floated almost completely around the wreck-pack, finally struck the wrecks at its edge with a jarring shock; then bobbed for a while and lay still. From pilot-house and deck windows the men looked eagerly forth.

Their ship floated at the wreck-pack's edge. Directly to its right floated a sleek, shining Uranus-Jupiter passenger-ship whose bows had been smashed in by a meteor. On their left bobbed an unmarked freighter of the old type with projecting rocket-tubes, apparently intact. Beyond them in the wreck-pack lay another Uranus craft, a freighter, and, beyond it, stretched the countless other wrecks.

Captain Crain summoned the crew together again on the middle-deck.

'Men, we've reached the wreck-pack at the dead-area's center, and here we'll stay until the end of time unless we get out under our own power. Mr. Kent has suggested a possible way of doing so, which I consider highly feasible.

'He has suggested that in some of the ships in the wreck-pack may be found enough fuel to enable us to escape from the dead-area, once it is transferred to this ship. I am going to permit him to explore the wreck-pack with a party in space suits, and I am asking for volunteers for this service.'

The entire crew stepped quickly forward. Crain smiled. 'Twelve of you will be enough,' he told them. 'The eight tube-men and four of the cargo-men will go, therefore, with Mr. Kent and Mr. Liggett as leaders. Mr. Kent, you may address the men if you wish.'

'Get down to the lower airlock and into your space-suits at once, then,' Kent told them. 'Mr. Liggett, will you supervise that?'

As Liggett and the men trooped down to the airlock, Kent turned back toward his superior.

'There's a very real chance of your becoming lost in this huge wreck-pack, Kent,' Crain told him: 'so be very careful to keep your bearings at all times. I know I can depend on you.'

'I'll do my best,' Kent was saying, when Liggett's excited face reappeared suddenly at the stair.

'There are men coming toward the Pallas along the wreck-pack's edge!' he reported—'a half-dozen men in space-suits!'

'You must be mistaken, Liggett!' exclaimed Crain. 'They must be some of the bodies in space-suits we saw in the pack.'

'No, they're living men!' Liggett cried. 'They're coming straight toward us—come down and see!'

Crain and Kent followed Liggett quickly down to the airlock room, where the men who had started donning their space-suits were now peering excitedly from the windows. Crain and Kent looked where Liggett pointed, along the wreck-pack's edge to the ship's right.

Six floating shapes, men in space-suits, were approaching along the pack's border. They floated smoothly through space, reaching the wrecked passenger-ship beside the Pallas. They braced their feet against its side and propelled themselves on through the void like swimmers under water, toward the Pallas.

'They must be survivors from some wreck that drifted in here as we did!' Kent exclaimed. 'Maybe they've lived here for months!'

'It's evident that they saw the Pallas drift into the pack, and have come to investigate,' Crain estimated. 'Open the airlock for them, men, for they'll want to come inside.'

Two of the men spun the wheels that slid aside the airlock's outer door. In a moment the half-dozen men outside had reached the ship's side, and had pulled themselves down inside the airlock.

When all were in, the outer door was closed, and air hissed in to fill the lock. The airlock's inner door then slid open and the newcomers stepped into the ship's interior, unscrewing their transparent helmets as they did so. For a few moments the visitors silently surveyed their new surroundings.

Their leader was a swarthy individual with sardonic black eyes who, on noticing Crain's captain-insignia, came toward him with outstretched hand. His followers seemed to be cargo-men or deck-men, looking hardly intelligent enough to Kent's eyes to be tube-men.

'Welcome to our city!' their leader exclaimed as he shook Crain's hand. 'We saw your ship drift in, but hardly expected to find anyone living in it.'

'I'll confess that we're surprised ourselves to find any life here,' Crain told him. 'You're living on one of the wrecks?'

The other nodded. 'Yes, on the Martian Queen, a quarter-mile along the pack's edge. It was a Saturn-Neptune passenger ship, and about a month ago we were at this cursed dead-area's edge, when half our rocket-tubes exploded. Eighteen of us escaped the explosion, the ship's walls still being tight; and we drifted into the pack here, and have been living here ever since.'

'My name's Krell,' he added, 'and I was a tube-man on the ship. I and another of the tube-men, named Jandron, were the highest in rank left, all the officers and other tube-men having been killed, so we took charge and have been keeping order.'

'What about your passengers?' Liggett asked.

'All killed but one,' Krell answered. 'When the tubes let go they smashed up the whole lower two decks.'

Crain briefly explained to him the Pallas' predicament. 'Mr. Kent and Mr. Liggett were on the point of starting a search of the wreck-pack for fuel when you arrived,' he said, 'With enough fuel we can get clear of the dead-area.'

Krell's eyes lit up. 'That would mean a getaway for all of us! It surely ought to be possible!'