Let Space Be Your Coffin

                          By S. M. Tenneshaw

                Bert hated Miles, and secretly plotted
             to kill him. It all seemed simple, yet murder
            can be complicated--especially in the void!...

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
              Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
                             November 1954
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

Bert thought savagely, _I'm going to kill you, Miles Berendt. You've
always lorded it over me--thought you were something extra special when
we were kids. Now you've practically taken over the business I helped
build. My business--the best damned space freight line in the system!
And you've got your eyes on Carol--my girl! Well, look smug, Miles.
This is your last day alive--tomorrow they won't even find your atoms!_

"Something eating you, Bert?"

Miles Berendt closed the tally book and shoved it aside on the desk. He
eased his six-foot frame back in the chair behind the desk and stared
quizzically at Bert Tanner. Tanner was standing by the window, staring
moodily out toward the long line of space hangars.

Tanner twisted abruptly, stared at Berendt, and laughed shortly.
"What? Not a thing, Miles. Not a thing...."

Berendt sighed. "I'm glad. With business as good as it is, and that
new contract with Deimos Mines almost in our laps we've got reason to
celebrate. I thought maybe you, Carol and I could sort of relax with a
few drinks at my place tonight--"

"Carol?" Bert bit her name out sharply. Too sharply. He forced the edge
from his voice and glanced uneasily away from Berendt to stare out the
window until he could get his emotions under control. _Don't let him
suspect--not now...._ Out of the corner of his eye he saw Miles get up
from behind the desk and walk slowly over toward him. Berendt had his
hands in his pants pockets.

"You sure nothing's bothering you, Bert?"

Tanner started to turn from the window. But his gaze was caught by
a trim figure coming into view across the smooth concrete expanse
separating the office building from the repair hangar. It was a girl.
A blonde girl. A dream of a figure in form-fitting plasti-silk. It was
Carol. She was coming toward the office building, a file of papers
under one arm.

"Bert. I asked you a question."

Tanner pulled his eyes away from the window. As he did so Miles glanced
past him. A smile pulled at his thin, firm lips as he saw Carol
approaching the building. The sun was going down in the west, and she
was framed in a golden-red halo with the tapering, glinting metallic
tips of two space ships, the _Viking_ and _Space Queen II_ in their
ground cradles for a backdrop. To Miles it was a beautiful picture. The
smile on his lips widened.

Tanner saw the smile and his own swarthy features grew dark. "You
trying to needle me, Miles?" his voice was edgy, almost harsh.

Berendt pulled his gaze away from the window and Carol's vanishing
figure as she rounded a corner of the building.

"Needle you, Bert? What the hell gave you that idea? You're acting
pretty peculiar--"

"Maybe just normal. Could that be it, Miles?"

Berendt shrugged, glancing closely at his partner. "I know you pretty
well, Bert. Something's bothering you. You're pretty moody lately.
Perhaps you better not take the Deimos run if you're not up to it. Even
Carol has remarked--"

"Carol?" The harshness was in Bert Tanner's voice. And Miles Berendt
frowned as he saw the wild light that sprang up suddenly in Tanner's
eyes. "So you and Carol have been talking about me!" Tanner almost
shouted. "Or is it maybe that you've been talking to Carol--trying to
poison her against me!"

       *       *       *       *       *

Miles showed sudden astonishment. His hands came out of his pockets and
he tried to place one of them on Bert's shoulder. "Look here, Bert, you
really are upset--"

Tanner threw his arm away from him with a violent movement. "Get your
goddamned hands off me, Miles." His voice grated and his hands suddenly
formed into fists at his sides.

Berendt frowned, his eyes narrowed in thought now. "I was only
half-kidding before when I asked you what was wrong, Bert. Now I'm
demanding. What the hell's the matter with you? Every time I mention
Carol's name you seem to blastoff."

Tanner laughed suddenly. But it wasn't a pleasant laugh. He moved away
from Berendt and stood with his hands resting on top of a glassite
table near the window. There was a scale model of a space ship--a trim
freighter--resting on top of the table. As Tanner's eyes remained
fastened on Berendt, his hand ran along the smooth side of the model
ship.

"Women are like a space ship, Miles, or hadn't you noticed?"

Berendt frowned but did not speak.

"Go on, play dumb. You've been pretty good at it for the past several
months. Thought you were fooling me, didn't you?"

"Bert, for crissakes, what's eating you?"

"See this ship, Miles?" Bert's voice had a tautness to it. "It was our
first one. We built this business with it--or should I say, I built the
ship, you built the business?"

"Whatever we did we did together, Bert. You know that. I've always
said you were the real brain here--without your technical skill there
wouldn't be a Tanner-Berendt Space Lines. But what are you leading up
to?"

Tanner's hand ran fondly along the lines of the model ship. "A ship's
like a woman--as I said," Bert said. "Both have beauty and dignity, but
they're no good without a man ... the right man."

"You're talking in riddles, Bert."

Tanner laughed again. "Like I said, Miles, take this ship. Our first
one. I practically built it by hand with Jeff Morrow helping. Jeff
loved her almost as much as I did. Even you loved her, I suppose."

Miles nodded. "The _Space Queen_ was a honey. But that was five years
ago. Why all this retrospection? And Jeff's got quite a few other ships
to love these days--our whole fleet!"

"We'll forget about Jeff," Tanner went on. "This is between you and
me. I mentioned the _Space Queen_ because the day we launched her was
the day Carol walked into the office looking for a job. I hired her.
She worked for me in the research labs for three years and everything
was fine. Then you butted your nose in and convinced her she belonged
in operations. She switched to your office--all very polite, but don't
think for one damned minute I didn't know what you had in mind!"

"Bert, I swear to God if you don't stop blatting like a drunken spacer,
I'll--"

"You'll what?" Tanner moved toward the desk and stood in front of
Berendt. He was shorter by three inches, but his body was stockier.
"Beat some sense into my thick skull? Teach me the facts of life? Maybe
I've got a few ideas like that right now. Maybe I know all I have to
know. Like talking me into giving you carte blanche in handling the
Lines business affairs. Like--"

"We discussed that pretty thoroughly, Bert. You decided you wanted to
stick close to the research and shop end. And--"

"--like stealing my girl."

       *       *       *       *       *

Miles Berendt stiffened. The concern that had been on his features
changed to shocked surprise. And then sudden anger.

"Now listen here, Bert. If you've got any crazy ideas about Carol and
me--"

"You're going to deny that you are in love with her?"

Berendt shoved his hands back in his pockets. "That, Bert, is none of
your business. And if you've got some paranoic idea that I'm doing
something behind your back then I suggest you see Doctor Lenning. Aside
from that, aren't you presuming a bit about Carol's feelings?"

"When she was working with me she used to be pretty close to me. You
changed that. Maybe I ought to change a few things too. Like your face
for instance."

The two men stared at each other tensely, silently. Tanner's eyes were
glowing now with repressed hatred. Miles Berendt showed disbelief, as
if he were seeing Bert Tanner for the first time.

"I don't want to fight you, Bert. Not that I'm afraid to. It's just
that you're so wrong about everything. Good heavens, man--"

"On top of everything you're yellow." Bert spat the word out.

Miles pulled his hands from his pockets and his grey eyes hardened.
"You shouldn't have said that, Bert. I don't have to take that from
anyone, not even my closest friend."

"Then take this!" Tanner swung his right hand in a sharp uppercut
swing. But two things prevented the blow from landing. One was Miles
Berendt's swift backward move, and the other was the sharp slamming of
the office door and a gay feminine voice.

"Hi, gang! Hey, what's going on in here? You boys fighting over
someone?" she laughed.

Bert's fist stopped its movement and his arm fell to his side. He
turned to see Carol Grant standing inside the closed door to the
office, papers in one hand, the other placed provocatively on her
well-rounded hip.

"Well? Are you both a couple of statues? Somebody say something."

It was Miles who cleared his throat and forced a grin. "Sounds silly,
I'll admit, but I had a crick in my neck--Bert was going to try and
straighten it out...."

Carol laughed. "Seems like a pretty drastic kind of cure. Bert, you
looked like you were all set to land a haymaker!" She moved over to the
desk and dropped the papers on top. "If you've still got that crick,
Miles, I've got a better way to get rid of it. Sit down."

She moved between the two men and gently shoved Miles toward his chair.
Embarrassed, Miles sat down, his eyes lowered from hers.

Carol moved around behind him and placed her cool fingers on the back
of his neck. Gently she began to massage him. "There, isn't that
better?"

Bert's face darkened as he watched, but he kept his emotions under
control now. As he looked into Miles' eyes he realized that he had made
a fool of himself. Would Miles suspect anything else? Inwardly Bert
cursed himself.

"While I'm playing nurse to the boss, why don't you check over the
Deimos contracts, Bert? I just put them on the desk. Now all we have to
do is to get to Deimos and have the Waring Cartel sign up. I don't mind
telling you I sweated on those papers. If I do say so they're as neat a
package as our high-priced lawyers could turn out."

Miles managed a laugh to kill the tenseness inside him. "If you had
your way, Carol, we wouldn't need anybody but the three of us to run
this business."

She pouted. "Keep it in the family's my motto. Which reminds me, have
you told Bert the good news?"

Miles dropped his gaze away from Bert and stared uncomfortably toward
the far wall and the model of the _Space Queen_. He was glad Carol
couldn't see his face at that moment.

It was Tanner who broke the suddenly strained silence. "News? What
news, Carol?"

       *       *       *       *       *

She stopped massaging Miles' neck and moved to his side to sit on the
edge of the desk. She crossed one shapely leg over the other and there
was a happy glow in her eyes as she looked down at Miles.

"There, I guess I've spoiled the surprise party after all." She looked
over to Bert. "Did Miles tell you we were going to have a private party
this evening?"

Bert nodded, his brow furrowed with a frown. "He mentioned getting
together for a few drinks to celebrate the Deimos contract I'm going
after tomorrow...."

"I guess I did spoil things, Miles." Carol flushed and looked at
Berendt.

Miles shrugged. "No harm done, honey. Bert," he looked up at Tanner.
"What Carol is trying to say is that we were planning on a few drinks
to celebrate not only the Deimos contract, but also our engagement."

"_Engagement!_" The word left Bert's lips in a stunned gasp.

Carol nodded smiling and moved away from the desk with a lithe movement
to stand before Bert. "That's right, Bert. We wanted you to be the
first to know. Miles and I are going to be married as soon as we sign
the Waring contract on Deimos. Miles wanted to have the wedding here on
Earth, but like most women I've decided on an interplanetary wedding!
You won't mind us going in the _Viking_ in your place?"

The glance that Tanner threw at Miles Berendt was one of venom. Miles
felt the whiplash of accusation that welled from Bert's eyes, from his
darkening face, the clenching tight muscles around his lips.

"A few minutes before Carol came in you said that perhaps I wasn't up
to the Deimos trip. What's the matter, Miles, didn't you have the guts
to come out and say you planned on going, and why?"

Miles tried to keep his voice pleasant. "You're wrong, Bert. I meant
to tell you tonight that Carol and I wanted to go in your place. What
I said earlier was prompted by other reasons. I'm more than sure I was
right about them now."

Bert laughed harshly, turned to Carol. "Miles suggested that I ought
to see Doctor Lenning. While everybody seems to think congratulations
are in order my partner infers I'm ready for a medic check-out.
Bert Tanner, ready for the Lenning sanitorium on Venus. Where all
space-happy company employees ease their tortured minds. A good place
too for an unwelcome partner."

Carol's face showed shocked astonishment. "Bert! Have you gone
insane--the things you're saying--"

Bert turned wrathful eyes on her. "I see he's even got you thinking his
way! Well, I don't intend to go to Venus and see Lenning. I'm going to
Deimos as planned. The Waring contract is half mine. I'll be damned if
he steals the business from me too!"

Miles was on his feet. "I'm warning you, Bert. Stop that kind of talk.
You don't know what you're saying."

"I know what I'm saying, and even more, I know what I'm going to do.
I'm taking the _Viking_ to Deimos, and once I sign with Waring you can
consider our partnership ended. You can have the Earth operation all to
your goddamned self. I'll start up with the Deimos deal."

Tanner leaned forward and scooped up the contracts from the desk as
Carol watched him in stunned concern. "Bert--why--"

He turned toward her, his eyes smouldering. "Carol, you're making a
mistake with Miles. He only wants you so he can pin up another triumph
over me. He--"

"Get out, Bert. You've said enough."

Tanner looked at Miles Berendt. Miles had his arm around Carol but
there was a fire in his eyes.

       *       *       *       *       *

Tanner laughed. "You can forget about Deimos, Miles. I'm going in the
morning. Jeff Morrow is setting the auto-pilot on the _Viking_ as I
instructed. I'm afraid you'll have to find another wedding present. One
that you can't steal."

Turning, he slammed out of the room, hearing Carol sob in Miles
Berendt's arms as he went.

On his way to the rocket hangars, Bert stared into the red sunset. It
seemed to bathe the launching cradles in a fiery pool of blood. And his
own blood pounded as he walked from the operations office building.
_You fool!_ he swore inwardly. _You could have killed him tonight and
made it look like an accident--but you had to make a scene.... Now
Carol knows how you feel.... You've spoiled your plan.... He'll be on
guard now.... You stupid fool!_

In that moment he realized he had lost not only his chance to kill
Miles with no possible suspicion on himself, but he had also lost
Carol. Carol. He thought of her. Was she so blind? Didn't she know what
Miles was doing? He remembered the way she had looked at Berendt. And
then he suddenly knew that she was in love with Miles. Probably the two
of them had carefully planned this Deimos move ... suggesting that he
go to the Lenning institute on Venus....

The blood-red sunset fixed the _Viking_ and _Space Queen II_ in its
fiery glow. Even at a distance he could see the crew of workmen around
the base of the _Viking_. The ship being readied for Mars and its
mineral laden satellite, Deimos. The ship that Berendt and Carol Grant
had planned to usurp for their wedding trip.... Their wedding trip.

Suddenly Bert Tanner's lips pulled back in a harsh grin. It was all
clear, suddenly. He had vowed that Miles Berendt would die before he
left Earth. That seemed out of the question now. But was it? And Carol?
Suddenly he hated her. Her beauty. Her smiling face and friendly charm.
A sham. A damned miserable sham. Well, all right. Wedding trip. He
thought, _two can die as easily as one_....

       *       *       *       *       *

"Everything's all set, Mr. Tanner."

Jeff Morrow came up to him in the dusk as Bert watched the crew of
mechanics leave the base of the _Viking's_ launching cradle and head
for the hangars.

"Right on schedule, Jeff." Bert shifted the papers he held and looked
at his chrono-wristdial. "The auto-pilot set?"

Jeff nodded, his thin face smiling in the gathering shadows. "All you
have to do is bring along a good book, Mr. Tanner. Escape velocity set
for ten minute thrust; space drive will hook in automatically at thirty
minutes, 70,000 m.p.h."

"Fine, Jeff. I can always depend on you. You're one man I can trust to
do a job right."

Jeff Morrow grinned. "Thanks, Mr. Tanner. Working for you and Mr.
Berendt is more than a job for me. You're two of the swellest guys I
ever met."

Tanner was glad the shadows of night hid the grimace on his face.
He slapped Morrow friendily on the shoulder. "Speaking of Miles,
reminds me. He's having a private little party at his place tonight.
To celebrate his engagement to Carol Grant. Said he'd like to have you
drop around for a drink. Think you can make it?"

Morrow nodded. "Why, of course. Say, I hope you don't mind my saying
it, Mr. Tanner, but I was wondering when one of you would get around to
marrying Miss Grant! Mr. Berendt sure is a lucky guy!"

Bert's lips were twisted but he knew Jeff couldn't see them clearly.
"Miles was the lucky man, Bert. But then, my life is tied up with my
work. Marriage is something for the office boys...."

Jeff laughed. "Guess maybe you are right. But I'll bet you won't stay
single long now that Mr. Berendt has set the pace."

"Maybe not, Jeff. Maybe not. You're all through here?"

"Yes, sir. Blastoff will be shortly before dawn. Care to make a final
check with me?"

"That won't be necessary, Jeff. You run along and have dinner. I'll
leave these Waring contracts in the control room of the _Viking_. I'll
see you later over at Miles' apartment."

"Right, Mr. Tanner. See you later."

Bert stood in the thickening shadows as Jeff walked off. He stood
there for long moments, staring up at the towering metal shape that was
the _Viking_. A slim, beautiful ship in its launching cradle. A thing
of power, an artistic triumph that could carry a man to the far planets
in the solar system. Or to death....

He glanced across the concrete apron to the nearby launching cradle
where the _Space Queen II_ pointed its silvery nose to the twilight
heavens. A sister to the original _Space Queen_, it was smaller than
the _Viking_, but a thing of beauty in its own way. He smiled to
himself. Tomorrow he would have Jeff prepare the auto-pilot on the
_Space Queen II_ for Mars. He would have a valid reason for the trip.
Afterall, he _was_ going to be the best man at a wedding, wasn't he? At
least, that's what they would all believe. Perfect. A perfect alibi,
and could he help it if the bride and groom never arrived?

Grimly, Bert strode over to the hydraulic lift and stepped into the
narrow cage. He slammed over the control lever and felt the cage lurch
under his feet. Then the ground fell away and he was moving smoothly,
swiftly up the side of the three hundred foot tapering hull.

       *       *       *       *       *

Moments later the cage stopped before an open airlock. Bert left
it and walked into the narrow confines of the ship. He walked along
the companionway to the control room. Passenger quarters on a space
ship were necessarily confined to the nose of the vessel. With atomic
reactors still in the lab stage, chemical propellants were still the
motivating power that drove man into the void. Earlier fuel mixtures
had been composed of various types: hydrazine plus nitric acid, and
alcohol combined with liquid oxygen. Latest rocket fuels combined parts
of both mixtures with catalytic agents to increase maximum power.
Still, fuel supplies required over seventy percent of ship storage
space. Thus crew or passenger quarters suffered. The auto-pilot had
solved this difficulty somewhat, making a crew unnecessary. One man
could safely navigate the dark reaches of interplanetary space with the
auto-pilot doing the work of a five or ten man crew.

Bert made his way to the control room in the nose of the ship. He
switched on the overhead light and glanced around. Everything was in
order. But then, Jeff was a very thorough man. The best. Bert put the
papers he carried on the forward grav bunk and strode over to the
control panel.

Thoughts pounded in his head. It would be easy. So very easy. And
foolproof. Jeff had said escape velocity thrust for ten minutes, space
drive cut in at thirty minutes. That was the critical point. At cut
in the catalytic agents joined with the rocket fuels to produce free
space acceleration. A tricky business, but not for the auto-pilot.
If the catalytic agents were cut in on escape velocity thrust, say
between ten and twenty-five minutes after blastoff, the whole chemical
firing balance would be thrown out of adjustment. That had happened
before--before the days of the auto-pilot. In those days men had died
in space. Their ship blown to a million pieces in the void as the
unbalanced fuel mixture reacted with catalytic agents. A nasty way to
die, but in a way merciful. The clumsy spaceman who miscalculated never
knew what happened. The auto-pilot had taken the risk out of space
flight.

It was now going to send Miles Berendt and Carol Grant to their death.

Bert went to work quickly, expertly. He snapped the latch lock of the
control panel and laid bare the workings of the auto-pilot. A few
simple adjustments, not discernible to anybody but an expert--_if_ he
were looking for something wrong. And then Bert was finished. He locked
the control panel and smiled grimly.

Twenty minutes after blastoff the firing mixture would go out of
balance as the catalysts cut in prematurely. There would be a hellish
blast of flame and nothing but atoms floating in the void.

The atoms of Miles Berendt and Carol Grant.

He would make sure of that final step in a little while.

       *       *       *       *       *

"Miles, I've come to apologize for acting like a damned fool. I don't
know what else to say, except that if you and Carol will forgive me
I'll do anything to make up for it."

Bert blurted the words out as he stood inside the doorway of Miles
Berendt's apartment staring bravely at Miles and Carol, guilt and
contrition on his face.

"I won't blame you if you kick me out, but I'm sorry, and I'd like to
toast your engagement and wish you both the best...."

It was Carol who came around Miles and took Bert Tanner's hand firmly
in hers.

"Oh, Bert, I knew you would come! I'm so happy--Miles is too, aren't
you darling?"

Miles looked for a long moment at Bert's chastened face. Then he
grinned and clasped his partner's hand. "Of course! Bert, you sure had
me worried for awhile. I couldn't figure it out--but hell, man, I know
the strain you've been under worrying about the Deimos contract and the
_Viking_. Come on in. By God we'll have a real party now!"

Bert grinned and returned the firm handclasp.

He walked over to an easy chair and sat down, Miles quickly mixing a
drink for him. Bert laughed.

"I invited Jeff Morrow over--hoping it would be all right. Jeff was
happy to hear about your engagement too."

Miles nodded. "Glad you did. Jeff's a good guy. The most efficient man
we've got. When will he be here?"

"Any time now." Bert took the drink and lifted it in a toast. "Here's
to the happiness of my two best friends."

They toasted and Carol turned on the vid-player. Soft dance music
filled the room as the door chime sounded. Miles put his glass down.

"That must be Jeff. Be back in a moment."

Carol sat on the arm of Bert's chair. "I'm so happy, Bert. This makes
everything complete. Nothing would have been the same without you."

Bert stared at her, then lowered his gaze. "And nothing would be the
same without you, too, Carol. It has to be this way...."

She puzzled for a moment over his words, but then Miles was back and
Jeff was with him.

"Come on, everybody, let's celebrate. Tonight's the night for
Tanner-Berendt, and--" Miles added with a soft glance at Carol, "--the
future Mrs. Berendt. Gentlemen, a toast to the bride."

They toasted.

Then Bert grinned. "Jeff, there's been a slight change in plans for
blastoff at dawn. Miles and Carol are going to Deimos in the _Viking_.
Sort of a wedding trip before nuptials. The ship all set for an extra
passenger?"

Jeff nodded. "Certainly, Mr. Tanner. Miss Grant will find everything in
order. But I thought you--"

Bert laughed again. "Oh, I'm not bowing out--afterall, the bride and
groom have to have a best man, even on Deimos. That's me. I'll take the
_Space Queen II_."

Carol smiled in delight. "That's a wonderful idea, isn't it, Miles?"

Miles nodded. "That would be a fine thing, Bert." He turned to Jeff.
"But is the _Space Queen_ ready for flight?"

       *       *       *       *       *

Jeff shrugged. "Nothing to do but set the auto-pilot. An hour's work,
adding final fuel supplies. I can take care of it ok."

"Then it's decided!" Carol brightened. "Bert will be best man at our
wedding on Deimos! Let's have another toast!"

They toasted. And Bert felt smugly giddy. It was perfect. The fools!
With Jeff here, and everything sweetness and light, the _Viking's_
blowup would be nothing but an accident, an unexplainable accident.
Bert Tanner would be in mourning for his two closest friends, and
Jeff would feel a lasting guilt that somehow he had been responsible.
Perfect.... And Bert felt a desire to get gloriously drunk. He walked
over to the portable bar and made himself a healthy drink.

"Watch it, Bert, you'll have quite a hangover by the time you
blastoff!" Carol chided him.

Bert laughed, pointing at Jeff. "So what? This is our night to
celebrate. With the auto-pilot I can bring along a good book or a
hangover! Right, Jeff?"

Jeff agreed and joined Bert in another drink.

Then there was the music. And Miles dancing with Carol. More music.
More drinks until Bert lost count. But he didn't care. This was sweet,
the toasting of a wake, the perfect crime, a sadly wonderful occasion.
Music. He danced with Carol. He stared at her with clouding eyes,
aching inside, a terrible pain that wouldn't be stilled by anything
except another drink. He had one. And another.

Miles and Jeff talking together. Pointing at him. He laughed to
himself. They were concerned over his getting drunk. They were
concerned over _him_! That was a hot one. One for the books. One for
another drink....

It was hot and giddy. The room was a glorious pool of laughter, savage
brutal laughter inside Bert's mind. Carol, Miles. Jeff Morrow talking
to them, nodding. Bert knew what they were telling Jeff. Wisps of their
conversation came to him from where he half-reclined on the couch. Jeff
would be his nurse-maid. Jeff would see to it that he was put aboard
the _Space Queen II_ in one soggy, drunken heap. Jeff would strap him
to his bunk. Good old Jeff. Good old efficient Jeff. And good old
considerate and concerned Miles.... Miles who was as good as dead right
now.

Music, time, liquor, they passed in a montage of fragrant clouds. Bert
was aware that Carol kissed him lightly on the cheek as Jeff helped him
to his feet and to the door. He was aware of Miles slapping him on the
back and calling to Jeff.

"Take care of Bert, Jeff. We want him on Deimos for the contract and
wedding!"

And Jeff assuring them he would. Good old Jeff.

       *       *       *       *       *

Fog and pressure. Roaring sound that deafened his ears. Pressure that
pushed him back, back, flattened his flesh tight against his bones.
Pain in his head that wanted surcease with oblivion, but the pressure
and roaring sound pushed the pain back, kept his consciousness aware,
dimly, but aware.

And then the pressure began to ease. With the easing came a sobering
effect to his alcohol-clouded brain. He became aware of his
surroundings.

The roar and pressure. Rocket thrust to escape velocity. A space ship.
It began to come clear now. No more music, no more drinks, no more
smiling faces of Miles and Carol. Jeff taking him to the door.... Where
then? The _Space Queen II_. Of course. Good old Jeff. Nursemaid Jeff.
Bundling him off to Deimos to sign a contract and be best man at a
wedding.

Consciousness returned to Bert Tanner and he laughed as he pushed
against the restraining straps that held him to the grav bunk.

Wedding? There would be no wedding. The bride and groom would never
show up! He laughed loud and long.

Then he stopped laughing. There was something wrong. Something he must
find out about. He felt it. No, that wasn't it, he didn't _feel_ it, he
_saw_ it....

This grav bunk--the control room. The _Space Queen II_. Something
wrong--something....

He turned his head on the bunk and stared at the control panel. There
was a confident hum from the auto-pilot, guiding the ship, carrying it
into deep space with precision and infallible accuracy of timing. The
control panel--_this was not the Space Queen II!_

He knew then. Incredibly, impossibly, he knew. He was in the
_Viking_....

_The Viking!_

"No! No! It can't be--Jeff--what did you do--you made a mistake--this
isn't the _Space Queen_--"

He sobered quickly. For he knew that he didn't have much time. A few
minutes--perhaps less ... the auto-pilot--he had set it--the unbalanced
fuel mixture--Miles and Carol--they should be here! _What had gone
wrong?_

He struggled with the straps. The hum of the auto-pilot. The precision
hum, the hum of death--death he had arranged, planned....

In an agony of time he tore the straps loose. He rolled groggily from
his grav bunk. He staggered to the control panel. Time, he must beat
time. _How much time did he have left?_

He fumbled at the latch controls of the auto-pilot. A minute now was
all he needed. One minute to divert eternity....

The panel opened, his fingers shook as he reached for the automatic
setting.

The hum grew, a click in the electronic mechanism. He knew then it was
too late. He screamed. Once. Only once. That was all he had time for.
A flash of light engulfed him. A roar he didn't hear. A roar that was
swallowed by the vast hunger of empty space.

The _Viking_ exploded into a myriad atomic particles.

       *       *       *       *       *

"You get him off all right, Jeff?"

Miles Berendt adjusted the video-screen as Jeff Morrow's face grinned
back at him from the operations office on Earth. Beside Miles, Carol
smiled at Jeff as she sat in the co-pilot's seat.

"Soggy, but safe, Mr. Berendt. He'll have a pleasant surprise when he
wakes up and finds himself in the _Viking_ instead of the _Space Queen
II_."

Miles nodded. "I know he wanted to make the trip in the _Viking_.
Besides, Carol and I prefer the _Space Queen II_. Makes it sort of a
sentimental journey."

Carol laughed beside him. "Thanks for everything, Jeff. We'll bring you
back a piece of wedding cake wrapped in a nice fat freight contract!"

Miles broke contact then and turned to Carol. She reached out and
squeezed his hand affectionately.

"I'm glad everything turned out all right with Bert...." she said.

He nodded. "Right, honey. But enough talk. Let's relax and enjoy the
trip!"

And they did.
{'title': 'Let Space Be Your Coffin by S. M. Tenneshaw', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}