IV
564 Words
IVNOW, IN CASE YOU DON’T remember,
A “rogue asteroid’s” a member
Of the minor planet group that’s slipped its cogs.
Wrenched by gravitational forces,
It careens about its courses
In an orbit not computable by logs.
Tons on tons of granite, metaled,
By the tug of Jove unsettled,
Weaving in, about, below its normal belt;
Is it any wonder why a
Spaceman fears this mad pariah?
Dreads the moment when its power may be felt?
With a single, sharp, explosive
Word that acted as corrosive
On the mate’s embarrassed eardrums, raced McNeer
To the engine-room where, peaceful,
Happy, busy, very grease-full,
Labored Blaster Bill, with grins from ear to ear.
“Bill!” McNeer cried, voice all blurry,
“Get that hypo in a hurry—”
Then his order strangled as he stared, aghast.
“What is this?” he faltered weakly,
“What is this?” And Bill, quite meekly,
Said, “I thought I’d melt it down for a recast!”
His imagination racing
The Chief gazed upon the casing
Of the hypatomic motor Number Three,
Now a pool of molten metal
Bubbling gently in a kettle.
“Goddlemighty!” yelled McNeer. “This thing can’t be!”
Bill asked, “Why the mad commotion?”
Then they glimpsed a sudden motion
And the Skipper’s face was in the televise.
“Got the motors fixed, McNeer?”
And the Chief said, low and clear,
“No. Does someone know a prayer amongst you guys?”
“Why?” the Skipper roared, distrait;
The Chief let him have it straight.
“The hypatomic’s melted into wax!
But before that rogue gets near,
I’ve a twelve pound hammer here
To warp across my blaster’s parallax!”
“Wait!” the Captain cried, “Not yet!
We must cover every bet.
I’m commander of this freighter while she rolls.
We must somehow make a turn,
Shake that damn rogue off our stern.
Suppose you try the manual controls?”
McNeer sadly shook his head
As he saw the rusty red
Of the long neglected manuals, but yelled,
“Hop to it, Bill, you dope!
It’s our last and only hope—”
And then he stopped and gulped, “Well, I’ll be helled!”
With his back arched neck to heel,
Bill was straining at the wheel;
The year-old rust was breaking off in flakes.
McNeer’s eyes lit with joy,
He shouted, “Bill, my boy!
See, there, lad? She gives! She shakes!”
And true enough, the screw
Of the gallant Dotty Sue
Was turning ‘neath the blaster’s mighty brawn.
The C. E.‘s voice was thunder,
“We’re getting out from under!
Just hold ‘er, Bill; the danger will be gone!”
A moment, still as death,
While Bill the Blaster’s breath
Rasped through the rocking room in tortured sobs,
Then from the bridge rang out
The Skipper’s warning shout,
“Too late! Abandon ship, Chief! Don your lobs!”
McNeer said, “Too bad, Bill,
Just hold ‘er there until
I get the lobs, and then we’ll pull our freight.”
With firm, untrembling hands
He took down from their stands
Two spacesuits, worn and old and out of date.
But Bill the Blaster stood
As motionless as wood;
His arms like knotted oak in cords of strain.
He slowly shook his head
And to the Chief he said,
“If all break ship, we’ll not see Earth again.”
“I know—” began McNeer,
But Bill roared out, “Stand clear!”
His arms upon the wheel were like a vise.
“Break ship and wait outside,
I’ll make this baby ride!
I’ll hold ‘er till the devil skates on ice!”
Then in the visiplate
Appeared the Second Mate,
“All out below? Did you break ship, McNeer?”
McNeer said, “Right away!
Come on, Bill, don’t delay!”
But Bill the Blaster panted, “Chief, stand clear!”
“You fool, you’re courting death!”
Bill answered, “Save your breath,”
And grinned, “You’ll need that oxygen outside!”
And stood like frozen steel
Beside that bucking wheel,
McNeer, reluctant, hovered at his side....
Till Bill cried, “You damn fool!”
And grabbed a handy tool
And slashed it ‘cross his headpiece like a mace.
There came a crashing roar,
McNeer knew nothing more
Until he woke to find himself in space.
- Writer
