CAPTAIN CHAOS
By NELSON S. BOND
The Callisto-bound Leo needed
a cook. What it got was a piping-voiced
Jonah who jinxed it straight into Chaos.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Summer 1942.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
We picked up our new cook on Phobos. Not Phoebus or Phoebe; I meanPhobos, Mars' inner moon. Our regular victual mangler came down withacute indigestion—tasted some of his own cooking, no doubt—when wewere just one blast of a jet-tube out of Sand City spaceport. But sincewe were rocketing under sealed orders, we couldn't turn back.
So we laid the Leo down on Phobos' tiny cradle-field and bundledour ailing grub-hurler off to a hospital, and the skipper said to me,"Mister Dugan," he said, "go out and find us a cook!"
"Aye, sir!" I said, and went.
Only it wasn't that easy. In those days, Phobos had only a handfulof settlers, and most of them had good-paying jobs. Besides, we wereat war with the Outer Planets, and no man in his right senses wantedto sign for a single-trip jump on a rickety old patrolship bound fornobody-knew-where. And, of course, cooks are dime-a-dozen when youdon't need one, but when you've got to locate one in a hurry they're asdifficult to find as petticoats in a nudist camp.
I tried the restaurants and the employment agencies, but it was nodice. I tried the hotels and the tourist homes and even one or twoof the cleaner-looking joy-joints. Again I drew a blank. So, gettingdesperate, I audioed a plaintive appeal to the wealthy Phobosiancolonists, asking that one of the more patriotic sons-of-riches donatea chef's services to the good old I.P.S., but my only response was aloud silence.
So I went back to the ship. I said, "Sorry, sir. We're up against it. Ican't seem to find a cook on the whole darned satellite."
The skipper scowled at me from under a corduroy brow and fumed, "Butwe've got to have a cook, Dugan! We can't go on without one!"
"In a pinch," I told him, "I might be able to boil a few pies, orscramble us a steak or something, Skipper."
"Thanks, Dugan, but that won't do. On this trip the men must be fedregularly and well. Makeshift meals are O.Q. on an ordinary run, butwhen you're running the blockade—"
He stopped abruptly. But too late; I had caught his slip of the tongue.I stared at him. I said, "The blockade, sir? Then you've read ourorders?"
The Old Man nodded soberly.
"Yes. You might as well know, Lieutenant. Everyone will be told as soonas the Leo lifts gravs again. My orders were to be opened four hoursafter leaving Sand City. I read them a few minutes ago.
"We are to attempt to run the Outer Planets Alliance blockade at anyspot which reconnaisance determines as favorable. Our objective isJupiter's fourth satellite, Callisto. The Solar Federation IntelligenceDepartment has learned of a loyalist uprising on that moon. It isreported that Callisto is weary of the war, with a little promptingwill secede from the Alliance and return to the Federation.
"If this is true, it means we have at last found the foothold we havebeen seeking; a salient within easy striking distance of Jupiter,capital of the Alliance government. Our task is to verify the rumorand, if it be true, make a treaty with the Callistans."
I said, "Sweet howling stars—some assignment, sir! A chance to endthis terrible war ... form a permanent union of the entire Solarfamily ... br