"Then let me worry about it."
"I hope," Johnny said, "that that's the worst we have to worry about.
Let's get started planning."
* * * * *
Time was the factor uppermost in their minds. They knew that even under
the best of conditions, it could take weeks to outfit and prepare for a
run out to the Belt. A ship had to be leased and fueled; there were
supplies to lay in. There was the problem of clearance to take care of,
claims to be verified and spotted, orbit coordinates to be computed and
checked ... a thousand details to be dealt with, anyone of which might
delay embarkation from an hour to a day or more.
It was not surprising that Tom and Greg were dubious when Johnny told
them they could be ready to clear ground in less than twenty-four hours.
Even knowing that Merrill Tawney might already have a mining crew at
work on Roger Hunter's claims, they could not believe that the red tape
of preparation and clearance could be cut away so swiftly.
They underestimated Johnny Coombs.
Six hours after he left them, he was back with a signed lease giving
them the use of a scout-ship and fuel to take them out to the Belt and
back again; the ship was in the Sun Lake City racks waiting for them
whenever they were ready.
"What kind of a ship?" Greg wanted to know.
"A Class III Flying Dutchman with overhauled atomics and hydrazine
side-jets," Johnny said, waving the transfer order. "Think you can fly
it?"
Greg whistled. "Can I? I trained in a Dutchman ... just about the
fastest scouter there is. What condition?"
"Lousy ... but it's fueled, with six weeks' supplies in the hold, and it
doesn't cost us a cent. Courtesy of a friend. You'll have to check it
over, but it'll do."
They inspected the ship, a weatherbeaten scouter that looked like a
relic of the '90's. Inside there were signs of many refittings and
overhauls, but the atomics were well shielded, and it carried a
surprising chemical fuel auxiliary for the cabin size. Greg disappeared
into the engine room, and Tom and Johnny left him testing valves and
circuits while they headed down to the U.N. Registry office in the
control tower.
On the way Johnny outlined the remaining outfitting steps. Tom would be
responsible for getting the clearance permit through Registry; Johnny
would check out all supplies, and then contact the observatory for the
orbit coordinates of Roger Hunter's claims.
"I thought the orbits were mapped on the claim papers," Tom said. "I
mean, every time an asteroid is claimed, the orbit has to be
charted...."
"That's right, but the orbit goes all the way around the sun. We know
where the _Scavenger_ was when the Patrol ship found her ... but she's
been travelling in orbit ever since. The observatory computer will
pinpoint her for us and chart a collision course so we can cut out and
meet her instead of trailing her for a week. Do you have the crew-papers
Greg and I signed?"
"Right here."
They were stepping off the ramp below the ship when a man loomed up out
of the shadows. It was a miner Tom had never seen before. Johnny nodded
as he approached. "Any news, Jack?"
"Quiet as a church," the man said.
"We'll be held up another eight hours at least," Johnny said. "Don't go
to sleep on us, Jack."
"Don't worry about us sleepin'," the man said grimly. "There's been
nobody around but yourselves, so far ... except the clearance
inspector."