Let Space Be Your Coffin

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."

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--"