THE SUN-DEATH By STANLEY WHITESIDE _Captain Lodar's compelling urge to return to Earth was like the instinct of a dying animal for its lair ... to die with its kind. Nothing would stop him ... nothing except death. And the death of the soaring_ Vulcan _would be his swan song to space_. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories January 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] _Norport, U.S.A. November 2, 2268_ _Honorable Board of Space Navigation, Section 6. Subject: 6B-5_ _Gentlemen:_ _In support of a petition on behalf of our client, we herewith submit a report of the Mutiny on the_ Vulcan _dramatized for your convenience, but true in all essentials_. _We beg you to note the extenuating circumstances and to consider these in rendering your decision._ _Respectfully yours, Haley, Cronk, & Touchwife, Attorneys at Law. per Jonas Cronk, LLD., MSL., PhD._ * * * * * The Spaceship _Vulcan_ lay on a tangled mat of vegetation. A thin haze of blue smoke drifted over it from the nearby Venusian village where several of the grass huts were afire. Under the bulging side of the ship twenty of the crew were boisterously herding a group of Venus Mutes, forcing them into the entrance port of the hold. There was very little trouble; only one of the Mutes balked, and a sting ray soon quieted that. In the glittering control room of the ship Ray Burk, Navigator Unlimited, turned from the viewport with a frown. "It seems a pity to burn down their shacks," he muttered. He was a large young man with blond hair, carelessly dressed, yet still bearing that touch of alert authority characteristic of a crack spaceship man. Since it was his first trip on the _Vulcan_ he was still a little out of place--not that he and Captain Lodar didn't understand each other. Lodar, pacing restlessly back and forth, made no reply. His black eyebrows merely lifted sardonically as he continued his heavy strides. It was typical of Lodar, whose vast energy kept him ceaselessly active, but in the confines of a ship it was like being caged with a lion. Ray turned back to the viewport. The village, burning sluggishly was desolate beneath the long column of smoke that rose in the still air. Lodar's strides halted at the magnaflux, he twirled the detector impatiently. "Still clear," he muttered. Then, louder, "Fix a course for Earth, Burk. As soon as all are aboard, we'll take off." Ray glanced quickly at Lodar, surprised at the sudden change of course, but he said nothing. This was Lodar's last flight, if all went well he was through. Perhaps that was why he was so savagely nervous. After all, it was time he quit. Luck had been with him overlong. The interphone jingled and Lodar answered it.