GALACTIC GHOST
By WALTER KUBILIUS
The Flying Dutchman of space was a harbinger
of death. But Willard wasn't superstitions.
He had seen the phantom—and lived.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Winter 1942.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The only friend in space Willard had ever known was dying. Dobbin'slips were parched and his breath came spasmodically. The tips of hisfingers that had so many times caressed the control board of the MaryLou were now black as meteor dust.
"We'll never see Earth again," he whispered feebly, plucked weakly atthe cover.
"Nonsense!" Willard broke in hurriedly, hoping that the dying manwould not see through the lie. "We've got the sun's gravity helpingus drift back to Earth! We'll be there soon! You'll get well soon andwe'll start to work again on a new idea of mine...." His voice trailedhelplessly away and the words were lost. It was no use.
The sick man did not hear him. Two tears rolled down his cheeks. Hisface contorted as he tried to withhold a sob.
"To see Earth again!" he said weakly. "To walk on solid ground oncemore!"
"Four years!" Willard echoed faintly. He knew how his space mate felt.No man can spend four years away from his home planet, and fail to beanguished. A man could live without friends, without fortune, but noman could live without Earth. He was like Anteus, for only the feel ofthe solid ground under his feet could give him courage to go among thestars.
Willard also knew what he dared not admit to himself. He, too, likeDobbin, would never see Earth again. Perhaps, some thousand years fromnow, some lonely wanderers would find their battered hulk of a ship inspace and bring them home again.
Dobbin motioned to him and, in answer to a last request, Willard liftedhim so he faced the port window for a final look at the panorama of thestars.
Dobbin's eyes, dimming and half closed, took in the vast play of theheavens and in his mind he relived the days when in a frail craft hefirst crossed interstellar space. But for Earth-loneliness Dobbin woulddie a happy man, knowing that he had lived as much and as deeply as anyman could.
Silently the two men watched. Dobbin's eyes opened suddenly and atremor seized his body. He turned painfully and looked at Willard.
"I saw it!" his voice cracked, trembling.
"Saw what?"
"It's true! It's true! It comes whenever a space man dies! It's there!"
"In heaven's name, Dobbin," Willard demanded, "What do you see? What isit?"
Dobbin lifted his dark bony arm and pointed out into star-studdedspace.
"The Ghost Ship!"
Something clicked in Willard's memory. He had heard it spoken of inwhispers by drunken space men and professional tellers of fairy tales.But he had never put any stock in them. In some forgotten corner ofDobbin's mind the legend of the Ghost Ship must have lain, to come upin this time of delirium.
"There's nothing there," he said firmly.
"It's come—for me!" Dobbin cried. He turned his head slowly towardWillard, tried to say something and then fell back upon the pillow. Hismouth was open and his eyes stared unseeing ahead. Dobbin was now onewith the vanished pioneers of yesterday. Willard was alone.
For two days, reckoned in Earth time, Willard kept vigil over the bodyof his friend and space mate. When the time was up he did what wasnecessary and nothing remained of Harry Dobbin, the best frien