_Captain Brandon was a pioneer. He explored the far reaches
of space and reported back on how things were out there. So
it was pretty disquieting to find out that the "far reaches
of space" knew more about what went on at home than he did._
Brandon was looking at the Milky Way. Through his perma-glas canopy, he
could see it trailing across the black velvet of space like a white
bridal veil. Below his SC9B scout-ship stretched the red dust deserts of
Sirius Three illuminated by the thin light of two ice moons. He looked
at the Milky Way.
He looked at it as a man looks at a flickering fireplace and thinks of
other things. He thought of the sun, 52 trillion miles away, a pinpoint
of light lost in the dazzle of the Milky Way--the Earth a speck of dust
in orbit just as this planet was to its master, Sirius.
Nine light years away. Of course, thirteen years had passed on Earth
since they had left, because the trip took four years by RT--relative
time. But even four years is a long time to be shut up in Astro One with
five other men, especially when one of them was the imperious Colonel
Towers.
"A quantum jump--that's the way to beat the Reds," the colonel had said
a thousand times. His well-worn expression had nothing to do with
quantum mechanics--the actual change in atomic configuration due to the
application of sufficient energy. Rather, it was a slang expression
referring to a major advance in inter-planetary travel due to a maximum
scientific and technological effort.
"Let 'em have Mars and Venus," the colonel would say--"Let 'em have the
whole damn Solar System! We'll make a quantum jump--leap-frog ahead of
'em. We'll be the first men to set foot on a planet of another solar
system."
Four years had gone by in the ship; thirteen years on Earth. Four years
of Colonel Towers. Military discipline grew more strict each day. Space
does funny things to some men. The "we'll be the first men" had turned
into, "_I'll_ be the first _man_."
But it was Captain Brandon who drew the assignment of scouting Sirius
Three for a suitable landing place for Astro, of sampling its atmosphere
and observing meteorological conditions. Even as Brandon climbed into
the scout-ship, Towers had cautioned him.
"Remember, your assignment is to locate a firm landing site with ample
protection from the elements. Under no circumstances are you to land
yourself. Is that clearly understood?"
Brandon nodded, was launched and now was cruising one hundred thousand
feet above the alien planet.
Brandon tilted the ship up on one wing and glanced down at the brick-red
expanse of desert. Tiny red mists marked dust storms. Certainly this was
no place to set down the full weight of Astro nor to protect the crew
and equipment from abrasive dust.
He righted the ship. Far on the horizon was a bank of atmospheric
clouds. Perhaps conditions were more promising there. He shoved the
power setting to 90 per cent.
A fire warning indicator light blinked on. Instantly Brandon's eyes were
on the instrument panel. The tailpipe temperature seemed all right. It
could be a false indication. He eased back on the power setting. Maybe
the light would go out. But it didn't. Instead he felt a surging rumble
deep in the bowels of the ship. Luminous needles danced and a second red
light flashed on.
He snapped the vidio switch and depressed the mike button.
"Astro One, this is Brandon. Over."
A steady crackling sound filled his earphones; a grid of light and
shadow fluttered on the screen. A thought entered his mind. Maybe he had
put too much planet curvature between Astro and himself.
"Astro One, this is Brandon. Come in, please."
A series of muffled explosions rocked the ship. He chopped the power
back all the way and listened intently.
"May Day! May Day! Astro, this is Brandon. May Day!"
A faint voice sputtered in his ear, the face of Reinhardt, the radioman
appeared before him. "Brandon, this is Astro One. What is your position?
Over."
Brandon's voice sounded strange and distant as he talked to his oxygen
mask. "Heading--one-eight-zero. Approximately six hundred miles from
you. Altitude one hundred thousand feet."
"What is the nature of your trouble, Brandon?"
Before Brandon could answer, the face of Colonel Towers appeared beside
the radioman's.
"Brandon, what're you trying to pull?"
"Engine trouble, sir. Losing altitude fast."
"Do you know the nature of the trouble?"
"Negative. Might have thrown a compressor blade. Got a fire indication,
then a compressor surge. Chopped off the power."