“Carry your bags, sir?” The gentleman tourist in the space harbor looked
at the youth who had stepped out of the night. Although the boy’s
clothes weren’t as fine, perhaps, as those of the other baggage
carriers, there was something about him which appealed to the man. The
boy had a wiry, athletic build, and his gray, sincere eyes shone with
spirit and good nature.
“Sure, son,” the big, white-thatched man said, smiling. “Suite 8, ‘B’
Deck.”
“‘B’ Deck!” Jim Vance echoed. “Thank you, sir!”
He hoisted the bags easily in his strong arms. Then, handing his patron
one half of a baggage check, he headed briskly for the concrete pit
where the throbbing space ship rested on torpedolike tail fins.
Jim was in a tingle of excitement. This was his first customer on ‘B’
Deck. He’d get a first-rate view of the _Hercules’_ luxury quarters! Jim
always swallowed hard when he neared the astronaut. She was so
incredibly big, so very much like the massiveness of the space which was
her real home. Though the _Hercules_ was carrying some space freight
this trip, she was mainly a tourist vessel; and her destination was
Venus.
“I’d give anything if I could make one trip into deep space,” he thought
fervently as he stepped into the outside elevator and was carried far
above the brightly lighted Miami spaceport. For an instant he seemed to
share a kinship with the silent stars that encircled him like a speckled
bowl.
Getting off on B Deck, Jim walked slowly along the polished corridor
toward Suite 8. The finery of the deck fairly numbed his senses. While
studying the turquoise carpet underfoot, his eyes shifted to his worn
shoes, and then he felt out of place.
It took money to go into space. If not that, it at least took extensive
training to be a crewman. He had neither money nor training, not even a
family. Not that Jim Vance was ready to cry about it, though. He had
long ago accepted his lot without complaint.
A senior-grade lieutenant stopped him outside of Suite 8. He wore a
square red mustache, and he neatly filled a uniform of gray flannel with
gold piping.
“We’re blasting off at 0800 sharp, son,” he said. “Better remind your
patron to get aboard.”
“I will, sir,” Jim returned. For a moment he felt like a full-fledged
crewman taking orders. He liked the feel of it, and he wished
desperately that it were so.
He went into the suite and set down the bags. His eyes roved over the
rich trimmings, the deep honeycomb rubber cushions. An oval port looked
out on the winking night lights of the coast city. There were two other
rooms to the luxury quarters.
The hideaway degravity cot in the main compartment had already been
pulled down out of the wall by a steward, but its front clamps were not
yet snapped to the floor. Jim closed the light beryllium door of the
compartment and tried out the cot. He sank down into its cloudlike
softness. As he lay there dreaming of worlds beyond Earth, suddenly the
front end of the cot swung upward. In trying to scramble out before he
was closed up in the wall, he was sent spinning into the air by the
powerful spring action of the cot. His head cracked solidly against the
metal wall, and he saw more stars than there were in the night.
He lay in a daze for some time, stupefied, not realizing the passing of
time. What finally roused him was the sensation of vibrating like a milk
shake in a mixer. The floor beneath him throbbed like the surface of the
Atlantic Ocean just beyond. Jim didn’t have to be a spaceman to know
that the _Hercules_ was about to blast off.
Cold sweat flowed over him as he realized he could not leave the ship in
time. The only thing he could do was prepare himself for the shock of
the blast-off. He yanked down the degravity cot again, making certain
this time that it was clamped to the floor. He guessed that all he had
to do was recline on the cot as he had before and strap himself down
with the black leather bands and plastic buckles.
He had scarcely done this before the pit of his stomach seemed to dive
into his shoes, and he felt that exhilarating “first minute of
acceleration” he had read so much about. When this was over, he knew the
_Hercules_ had climbed above the bulk of Earth’s atmosphere and was
leveling off on a horizontal curve from the planet’s surface. The
rotation of the Earth would give the spaceship a final boost into the
deeps.
When Jim’s stomach quieted, he unbuckled and attempted to get to his
feet. The motion sent him flying up into the air! It then struck him
that he had forgotten about the weightlessness of space. Some ships had
artificial gravity in them; but because the _Hercules_ was chiefly a
pleasure ship, the tourists preferred to “rough it.”
Jim became almost panicky in his efforts to right himself. His forehead
grew hot although the cool atmosphere of the compartment was
comfortable. He guessed that it wasn’t entirely the shock of no gravity
that was making him sweat. He was thinking about his unpaid passage on
the _Hercules_.
“I’m a stowaway,” he thought. “I’ll be sent to jail for this.” He had
read about the severe penalty for trying to hitch a ride on a space
vessel. This was because weight was critical, and the addition of just a
few extra pounds could prevent the rocket fuel from pushing the ship to
its distant port, could even cause disaster.
Jim felt his head where he had taken the near knockout blow. There was
only a small bump. Who would ever believe his story of what had really
happened? Besides, he’d had no business trying out the degravity cot.
While he was pondering what he should do, there was a rap on the door of
the suite. Jim slunk against the far wall, dreading to be found out.
“Are you all right, Mr. Bowers?” came a deep voice.
Jim opened his mouth to reply but only a wordless croak came out. The
door swung open, and a husky steward with a young face “swam” in. At
sight of Jim a surprised look crossed his features.
“What are you doing here?” he blurted. “Where’s Mr. Bowers?”
Jim felt as though he were in a crazy dream. The steward was floating
toward him like a phantom in a nightmare, while he himself was like a
desperate fish without fins in this strange sea of weightlessness.
“I don’t know Mr. Bowers,” Jim managed to reply, then went on to explain
what had happened.
The steward looked at him skeptically, his round face attempting to
judge him. “Is this the truth?” he asked.
Jim nodded and showed the bump on his head. Then he waited tensely for
the verdict.
“Somehow I believe you,” the steward said sympathetically.
“Thanks,” Jim returned. He quickly decided that he liked the young
steward with the surprisingly deep voice.
The steward looked thoughtful. “We’ve got to figure out a way to keep
you from being discovered until we return to Earth. That way, you’ll
have had time to help out and pay your way. It’ll go easier with you
when you turn yourself in.” Then he frowned. “What about your family,
though? They’ll surely be worried about you.”
“I don’t have a family,” Jim told him. “I’m an orphan, and I’ve been on
my own for two years. Don’t you think I ought to make a clean breast of
everything to the captain now and hope he’ll believe me?”
The steward shook his head emphatically. “Not _this_ captain. Not
Captain Coppard. He’s a stickler for regulations. He’d never believe
your story. If he does find out, you’ll be on prison rations for the
rest of the trip!”
“What’ll I do, then?” Jim asked, suddenly feeling very dependent on the
young man he faced.
The steward’s forehead creased in a frown. “The captain doesn’t know the
steward crew too well because there were some last-minute substitutions.
I think you’d do best to become a steward and work out your passage that
way.”
A steward on a space ship! The idea of it thrilled Jim so much that he
almost forgot the seriousness of his situation. He wondered how he’d
look in the neat starched white that the steward in front of him wore.
“First, I think we ought to get acquainted,” his new friend said. He
extended a workingman’s strong grip, and Jim took it. “My name is Al
Hogan. Everybody calls me ‘Babe’ because of my face.” He grinned
boyishly.
“I’m Jim Vance,” Jim said.
“You’ll make a good steward, Jim,” Babe declared. “My job depends on
being able to spot good men.”
“How’s that?” Jim asked.
“I’m chief steward in charge of personnel aboard the _Hercules_,” the
other replied. “It’s lucky for you that I saw you first. I can hire you
without your having to see anyone else.”
“That’s one thing in my favor,” Jim said with relief.
“I’m afraid there’s one more strike against you, though, Jim,” Babe
said.
“What’s that?”
“You’ve ‘bumped’ the most important man in the space tourist business,
and that isn’t good.”
“What do you mean?” Jim asked.
“I mean this suite was Mr. Bowers’, the owner of Venus Space Tours,
Incorporated.”
“Why didn’t he come aboard in time for the blast-off?” Jim wanted to
know.
“Mr. Bowers depends on the stewards to let him know just ahead of time
because he usually has a lot of last-minute things to do.”
“I didn’t even know who he was!” Jim said. “Wow, what a mistake to
make!”
“Lucky for the _Hercules_, though,” Babe remarked, “your weight has
canceled out his. There’s another rub, though. Mr. Bowers may have the
Miami port radio us that you’re aboard. That would expose you for sure.”
Jim had an idea that his career as a spaceman was going to be extremely
brief.
Babe showed him how to navigate in the state of no gravity. By kicking
out rearward, he could shoot himself along almost as smoothly as a fish
in water.
“Come with me,” Babe said, “and let’s get you started as a steward. You
can bunk in my extra cot. There was an odd number of men this trip,
leaving the spare bed.”
Babe locked the door of Mr. Bowers’ suite so that no one would be
curious about him. He told Jim that Mr. Bowers very rarely mixed with
the passengers or crew. For this reason he would not likely be missed.
Babe kept Jim out of sight of the other crewmen and hurriedly got him
fitted into a steward’s white uniform.
“Your job will be to show the tourists how to get along in the space
ship,” Babe told him.
Jim went around with Babe to learn the ropes. Some of the steward’s
friends looked at Jim curiously and asked about him. Babe satisfied them
by saying that Jim was a last-minute addition.
The first jobs Jim and Babe had to take care of were several cases of
space sickness. Lack of gravity did funny things to the balancing
mechanism in the ear and often made amateur space travelers feel as
though they were coming apart. A dose of medicine usually fixed them up.
Jim was glad that he himself did not suffer from this affliction.
Jim watched Babe instruct a gentleman how to take a nap without using a
couch. The only thing the man needed was a short cord secured to his
ankle and to a ring on the compartment wall to make sure that his
breathing did not cause him to float off. For night sleeping, Jim was
told, most people preferred using the standard sleeping-bag-type cots.
“How about some lunch?” Babe asked Jim when they had left the passenger
relaxing in mid-air. “We’ll have to get ours before the tourists come
in.”
“I’m all for it,” Jim replied.
As they “swam” toward the crewmen’s mess, Babe said, “This is your
crucial meal, Jim. If you get by this one without anyone getting curious
about you, I don’t believe you’ll have to worry about them anymore.”
“I have my fingers crossed.”
He was going to need all the luck he could get, he realized, as they
navigated into the mess compartment. Across the room from them was the
officer with the square red mustache who had spoken to him as he carried
Mr. Bowers’ bags into Suite 8!
Jim whispered to Babe about the officer. Babe told him that there was a
good chance of avoiding him, since the officers sat at one table and the
stewards at another.
Jim was fascinated by his first meal in space. Everyone strapped himself
to his seat so that he would stay put. Then the cooks brought in
individual plates which adhered to the metallic table top by magnetism.
Each bite of food was impaled on a toothpick stuck into a sponge-rubber
mat which was fastened to the plate.
As Jim ate with tongs and sucked his drink from a closed container, he
was careful to avoid the roving eyes of the officer with the red
mustache. Jim was glad that the other stewards weren’t inquisitive about
him. They appeared hungry and weren’t talkative.
Having survived the crucial first day without discovery, Jim found the
others that followed were much easier. When three weeks had passed and
he still had not been discovered, he started believing that the tourist
company owner he had “bumped” was not going to complain.
But one day late in the voyage Jim and Babe happened to run into a very
important person in the corridor on the way to mess. Jim recognized the
insigne of four platinum rockets that showed he was Captain Coppard. It
was Jim’s first face-to-face meeting with the officer.
After the stewards’ salute Captain Coppard suddenly pulled up short, and
Jim felt the trim, hawk-nosed man’s steely gaze on him. It was a stare
that appeared to look clear through him. Why was the officer suddenly so
interested in him? It brought an anxious lump up into Jim’s throat.
“Steward,” the chief officer said, “just a minute.”
Jim faced the officer in gray and gold, his heart pounding. Had Mr.
Bowers radioed the ship about him? Or had Captain Coppard found out
about him in some other way?
“Yes, sir?” Jim said.
Captain Coppard touched Jim’s blouse. “You’ve got a button undone on
your uniform. Don’t let me see that again.”
“Yes, sir,” Jim replied in relief, and lost no time tidying himself. The
captain “swam” off down the corridor.
“That scared the life out of me!” Jim blurted to Babe. “I thought he had
found me out for sure! I know now why you didn’t want me to turn myself
in yet.”
“The captain’s an expert spaceman, but he’s as strict as they come, just
as I told you,” Babe replied.
After lunch Jim and Babe had a little time on their hands and “hung” by
the port in their compartment looking out into space. By now Earth had
dwindled to an arc light, and the endless star patterns and dusty
nebulae challenged his imagination tremendously. The planet they were
heading for was an enlarging brilliant disk that stood out prominently
among the sparkling diamonds of black space.
“How long have you been out of the orphanage, Jim?” Babe asked suddenly.
“Over two years,” Jim said. “I’ve been working as an assistant athletic
coach at Oceanside Boys’ Home outside Miami since then.”
“How come you were doing redcap service at the space harbor?”
Jim grinned broadly. “Just because I loved it. I loved to go aboard
space ships and pretend I was a real passenger. I’ve wanted to go into
space ever since I knew there was such a thing. It seems now as though
I’m in a wonderful dream and that all this is not really true at all!”
A pause followed, as Jim looked at Babe. “You’ve never told me anything
about yourself.”
Babe shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. I’m thirty-two, unmarried.
Been going into space since I was seventeen. Like you, I have space in
my blood, and I hope I’ll be rocketing until I’m eighty.”
Jim had a multitude of services to do for his patrons before the end of
the trip. He had a half dozen mild cases of “collision,” resulting from
tourists’ carelessly bumping into the walls of their compartments, not
realizing their increased powers in “free fall.” On another occasion a
traveler had failed to hitch onto a wall ring during a nap and had
floated down the corridor half the length of the ship. A child had a
minor case of radiation burn when he wandered into a restricted
compartment next to the atomic reactor.
The trip was nearly over in a few weeks’ time, for the _Hercules_ was
traveling the way of the straight line and crossing the orbits of the
other planets. The day of landing, Jim and Babe looked out of the port
in their compartment at a pearly mist. The sensation of weight had
returned with the cutting in of the rocket motors.
“How long before we touch down?” Jim asked.
“Several hours yet,” Babe replied. “We’ve got to circle the planet
several times to brake our speed. If we were to go straight down through
this pea soup, the friction would turn us red hot.”
Jim was glad when they were dropping at respectable speed directly down.
The landing, moments later, in the colony space harbor was made safely.
After Jim and Babe had made their rounds readying the passengers for
debarkation, a voice came over the wall microphone:
“Steward Al Hogan, report to Captain Coppard’s suite right away.”
Jim and Babe exchanged anxious glances but did not speak as Babe left
the compartment. Jim wondered if his secret had been discovered at this
last moment. His concern was more for Babe than for himself. It would be
an awful thing for Babe to have to pay the penalty for helping him.
To take his mind off his concern, Jim went to the side port for his
first sight of Venus. Although the upper layers of the atmosphere were
impenetrably dense, the air at ground level was clear except for
occasional wisps of vapor floating by. The intense rising heat gave a
shimmering effect to the canyon landscape. When Babe returned, he eased
Jim’s mind with a grin.
“How’d you like to make the cable-car tour with me, Jim?” he asked.
“I’m all for it!” Jim said, greatly relieved that Babe had nothing bad
to report.
“One of the regular cable-car drivers is sick and can’t make the trip,”
Babe went on. “Captain Coppard knew I’d had experience driving the car a
few times before and asked me if I wanted to make some overtime pay.”
“When do we start?” Jim asked eagerly.
“In a few hours—after the tourists have had time to rest up from the
landing.”
Five hours later, Jim and Babe were helping tourists into breathing
outfits. There wasn’t enough oxygen in Venus’ atmosphere to support life
from Earth, although the planet had animal life of its own. The
apparatus was a light helmet with an attachment covering the nose of the
wearer. The gadget contained two slender tubes which fitted into the
nostrils and supplied them with oxygen from shoulder tanks. Also
attached to the helmet were dark lenses for protecting the eyes from the
extreme brilliance.
As they left the ship, Jim saw that almost all of the many buildings of
the settlement were clustered about the rim of the space harbor. Venus
was still in the pioneer stage of development; the only persons living
permanently on the planet were scientists, engineers, and tourist
workers. The harbor lay on a broad, high plateau. On three sides of it,
precipices dropped away sharply into deep canyons.
It took Jim a while to get used to the oppressive hotness of the
atmosphere. It was like breathing fire each time he took a breath
through his mouth. Babe instructed him and the others to breathe only
through their noses in order to avoid the discomfort.
Babe led the party toward one of the edges of the plateau where the
cable car rested, a hundred feet or so from the cliff. Its overhead
cable extended out as far as Jim could see into the deep country.
When all were aboard, one of the tourists, weighted down with camera
equipment, asked, “When are we leaving, Chief? Right away? I can’t wait
to get this terrific scenery down on film! Isn’t this a fabulous place!”
The man was Mr. Benjamin, one of the more enthusiastic travelers.
“We’re leaving just as soon as we get the rear jet firing,” Babe told
him. He led Jim into the foremost of two Plexiglas-enclosed drivers’
quarters that were located at each end of the car.
Jim saw that only a single lever was used to control the cable car.
There was a radio set for contact with the space harbor if this were
necessary.
Babe turned on the ignition and shoved the lever. The car began gliding
over the ground toward the edge of the precipice. “A child can run
this,” he said. “One jet behind to push us forward, one in front to slow
us down.”
Jim felt his knees go weak in tingling anticipation as the car swung out
into empty space, with only its slender overhead cable as a support for
forty people. Babe presently let Jim try the control lever. Jim could
hear the hollow _swoosh_ of the rear jet as it shot the car along, and
he could hear the singing of the cable as the car rolled smoothly on its
fine overhead bearings.
“We seem to be going uphill,” Jim commented.
“We are,” Babe said. “We’re heading for Point Luna, which is a thousand
feet higher than where we started.”
“I don’t see how they ever got this cable in place,” Jim said.
“I’ve heard that it wasn’t too much of a job, using helicopters,” Babe
explained. “It was worth the trouble because the tourist revenue from it
has helped the building projects here.”
Reaching Point Luna, the car was stopped and the tourists got out to
look over the view. The space harbor was only a miniature tongue of land
beyond the vast spread of canyon behind them. Babe pointed out the Great
Crimson Desert in the distance, which looked to Jim like a sea of fire
as the heat waves rose from it up into the white sky. Jim thought it
odd, not seeing a sun up there. He knew the planet was forever shut off
from any view of the outer magnificent solar system because of its dense
atmosphere.
The car moved on again, and presently a flock of snow-white birds began
circling about. Jim knew these to be the Venus albatrosses, which often
accompanied the cable car. The next peak reached was Point Hastings,
named for the man who had first set foot on Venus. The spot was a rugged
mesa jutting up from the canyon floor. The excited party left the car
and trooped down a slope which was thick with salmon-pink umbrella fern.
“Get ready to see Venus’ most interesting and bad-tempered animals,”
Babe had told them just before.
Babe led them down to the bottom of the slope and through a dense
thicket of gorgeous orange-colored blossoms. At this point the black
rock slope dropped away to a sandy plain covered with a herd of giant
unicorns. The animals were about the size of elephants, with glossy tan
hides and slender antelope legs. Their huge heads carried swordlike
horns just above the nose. The unicorns were browsing on patches of blue
spider grass.
Mr. Benjamin piped excitedly, “I’ve got to get a picture of one of those
babies!” He scrambled recklessly down the slope and took up a position
behind a large rock.
“Better be careful, sir!” Babe warned. “It doesn’t take much to rile
them.”
“It’s funny how the animals on Venus can get along without breathing
oxygen,” Jim commented to Babe.
“They have a huge lung capacity,” Babe explained, “and also take in what
little oxygen Venus has while they sleep. They store it up in a special
air sac inside their bodies.”
Mr. Benjamin waved his hand to attract the attention of the beasts.
Several in the herd raised their heads and peered at the man. One of
them decided to investigate. He trotted over toward the rock where Mr.
Benjamin was clicking away with his camera, an ugly frown on its
wrinkled features. The rock shifted unexpectedly, and the tourist slid
around the edge of it. He lost his balance and tumbled down the slope,
shouting wildly for help.
Jim’s blood chilled, but he acted promptly, darting forward and
scrambling down the incline after the helpless man. The unicorn rushed
up the slope, his head lowered and his frightening ivory horn poised for
attack.
Mr. Benjamin cried out and barely squirmed out of the way of the
charging animal. The force of the unicorn’s thrust caused him to bury
his sharp horn to the ground. He withdrew it with a grunt of fury and
shook black earth from the glossy white tip. Then he retreated for
another charge.
[Illustration: _The unicorn rushed up the slope, his head lowered and
his frightening ivory horn poised for attack._]
“Help me!” Mr. Benjamin cried desperately, scrambling madly to get a
foothold in the slipping gravel.
By now Jim was within arm’s reach of the tourist. He braced himself
against the boulder that had settled into a hollow and strained forward
to grasp Mr. Benjamin’s hand. Just as the man was pulled to his feet,
the unicorn struck again, burying his horn in the ground barely inches
below the tourist’s boots. Jim shuddered as he hurried Mr. Benjamin up
the slope to safety.
“My poor camera!” the tourist groaned. “It’s down there with that
animal!”
“You’re lucky not to be down there with him yourself, Mr. Benjamin,”
Babe said grimly and led the party back toward the car.
Next the car passed over the fascinating Lake of Steam. A mist, like the
sheerest of veils, rose in a solid sheet from the depths to a height of
half a mile, shot through with every imaginable color. Jim thought it an
incredibly beautiful sight.
Jim took over running the car while Babe went back with the passengers
to point out more of the picturesque wonders. Jim was surprised when
suddenly the car began roller-coasting down a steep slope toward a
forbidding dark opening in the cliff face. Quickly he realized that this
was the famous Haunted Tunnel of Venus.
Jim switched on the headlights Babe had told him about and slowed the
car with a burst of the forward jet. Slowly the car entered the
enchanted cavern. The darkness seemed to make Jim’s ears keener.
Presently there came to him the mysterious sighs and groans that had
given the tunnel its name. Although he knew this was caused by wind
whistling through the opening and the shifting of rock strata, it
nevertheless caused chills to run up his spine.
All at once an unexpected loud buzz from the radio set shocked him into
an involuntary cry. As his nerves calmed, he switched on the radio and
spoke into the mike, “Yes?”
“Let me speak to Steward Hogan,” came a brisk voice that Jim knew could
belong only to Captain Coppard.
“Yes, sir,” Jim replied.
He opened the door of the cabin and called Babe. Jim saw a flashlight
advance toward him down the dark aisle.
“It’s Captain Coppard,” Jim whispered.
“Hogan speaking,” Babe said into the mike.
“Steward,” the chief officer of the _Hercules_ said, “who is the young
man with you?”
Jim’s heart seemed to give a final quiver and go dead inside of him.
“Jim Vance, sir,” Babe answered.
“I don’t find him on my roster of personnel,” snapped the officer.
“He isn’t on it, sir,” Babe admitted manfully.
“Then he’s a stowaway?”
“Yes, sir,” Babe said reluctantly.
“You realize the consequences of stowing away on a space ship, don’t
you, Hogan?”
“Yes, sir,” Babe said.
“Remind your young friend of it, then, so that he will be prepared for
what happens when the cable car gets back. The two of you will return
immediately to the colony. That is all.”
There was a pall of silence for several seconds after the captain’s
stern order. Jim could hear Babe’s tense breathing in the darkness.
“They finally caught us,” Jim murmured, “and you’ll have to pay for
helping me.”
“I’d do it all over again, Jim,” Babe said firmly.
“You’re a real friend, Babe,” Jim told him.
Babe went out and explained to the tourists that they had to return at
once to the space harbor. The stewards went back to the duplicate
drivers’ quarters at the other end of the car, and Babe started the car
out of the Haunted Tunnel.
As they drove back, both he and Babe gloomily silent, Jim was thinking
that he had satisfied his lifelong ambition for a short while anyway. It
had been great while it lasted.
After they passed Point Luna, a flock of albatrosses gathered around the
car again. The birds’ curiosity made them bolder than usual, and some of
them flew directly in front of the car. Jim heard sickening thumps as
some of the careless birds were battered by the speeding car. Both he
and Babe shook their heads regretfully.
Jim looked ahead where the space harbor was rapidly growing closer as
they swept downhill. “Guess we’d better slow down, or we’ll go crashing
into everything down there,” Babe said.
He shoved the lever to brake the car, but nothing happened.
“Something’s wrong!” Babe shouted hoarsely. “I can’t stop this thing!”
In his imagination Jim could see them tearing loose from the cable when
they reached land and hurtling down into the space port. The destruction
would be staggering.
“Something’s plugged up the forward rocket tube!” Babe exclaimed.
“One of the albatrosses must have been caught in it!” Jim burst out.
“It must be that!” Babe agreed. “There’s only one thing to do—get the
bird out of there double quick!”
“How’re you going to do it?”
“Climb out the front of the car through the window!” Babe said, flinging
up the pane in front of them. The hot air swept them back as though they
had suddenly opened the door of a blast furnace.
“I can do it easier than you can,” Jim said. “I’m lighter and
slenderer.” He was also thinking of the debt he owed Babe for helping
him all this time.
“Nothing doing,” Babe retorted. “I’m the responsible one on this tour.”
Jim heard a battering at the door and saw some of their passengers
trying to force themselves into the cabin. Babe opened the door a crack
and pleaded with them for calmness. In those few seconds, Jim acted
quickly.
First he shut off the forward jet completely. Then he began scrambling
through the window out onto the front of the car. The wind cut him
unmercifully. Projections across the front of the cable car gave him
handholds, enabling him to crawl downward.
Suddenly the driving wind ripped Jim’s nose-piece away and left it
dangling from his helmet. He automatically gulped in a mouthful of
searing, oxygenless air. It tore at his lungs and gagged him
suffocatingly. He held his breath, grateful for the underwater swimming
he had done at the Oceanside Boys’ Home.
Jim stretched downward and reached the nozzle of the jet tube. He shoved
his hand into it. The heat of the tube caused him to cry out in agony.
Just as he was about to give up, his burned fingers felt something soft.
Feathers. His hands plunged forward still deeper into the tube and
closed around the mangled fowl. He tugged with all his might and finally
withdrew the broken mass. His arm was beet red and paining fiercely.
He began the tortured climb back up into the car. His lungs were
bursting for air. Every touch of his seared hand caused him to groan in
pain. Just as he climbed free of the tube, a burst of red flame poured
from the nozzle. With a shuddering jerk the car began slackening speed.
Jim knew Babe had thrown on the jet’s full power as soon as Jim had
cleared the tube.
When Jim reached the window, Babe leaned out and pulled him into the
car. Jim sagged in the extra seat, staring dumbly at the nearing
spaceport plateau.
“Will we make it?” he gasped, feeling the sharp braking force of the
forward rocket.
“We’ll make it all right—thanks to you,” Jim heard Babe say. Then
everything whirled before his eyes and he blacked out from lack of air
and the strain of his grueling experience.
When Jim recovered consciousness, he was in the colony clinic. The arm
he had thrust into the jet tube was bandaged stiffly, and there was
cooling salve on his wind-burned face.
Babe was standing by the bedside. “You’ll be all right,” he said. “The
doc said you’d be uncomfortable for a while, but your arm burn isn’t too
serious.”
Jim saw the tall erect figure of Captain Coppard come over. “So you’re
the stowaway who so cleverly avoided me during the voyage?” he said.
Jim swallowed, his throat raw. “Yes, sir.”
The officer’s gaze still held that characteristic penetrating stare.
“Steward Hogan told me how you came to be aboard,” he said. “I was ready
to toss both of you into the brig when I first found out about you. Then
since I talked to you in the cable car, I’ve been reviewing your record
while aboard the _Hercules_. The other stewards tell me you did an extra
fine job as a beginner without training. And of course there were these
last things you did—risking your life to save one of the tourists from
the unicorn and then preventing what could have been a terrible accident
on the cable car. In a measure it changes things.”
“Yes, sir,” Jim murmured hopefully.
“Not that I condone breaking regulations!” the officer continued
gruffly.
“Of course not, sir,” Jim said.
“You and Hogan had better thank your rockets that I’m in an expansive
mood today,” the officer concluded. “Charges dismissed.” He then left
the room. Babe and Jim were alone.
“You hear that, Babe?” Jim burst out. “He’s let us off!”
“Yeah, it sure surprised me!” Babe said. “I guess I misjudged the
captain.”
“Mr. Bowers must have radioed the captain about me,” Jim mused. “That’s
how he found out.”
Babe shook his head. “The captain found out on his own. He told me that
Mr. Bowers wired him soon after blast-off that some urgent business had
kept him from leaving on the _Hercules_. He didn’t even have time to get
his bags off.”
“And to think that was the main thing we were afraid of!” Jim said
wryly. He looked up at his friend anxiously. “Babe, do you think the
captain will let me go back to Earth as a steward?”
“I think the captain knows a good spaceman when he sees one,” Babe
replied earnestly. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about,
Jim—not from now on.”
_Teen-Age Super Science Stories_
_by_ Richard M. Elam, Jr.
_Author of Teen-Age Science Fiction Stories_
_Illustrated by Frank E. Vaughn_
Following along the lines of his very successful Teen-Age Science
Fiction Stories, this popular author has prepared a new book of exciting
stories embodying the very latest theories in interplanetary
communications and space travel.
These thrilling tales recount the experiences of wide-awake, modern boys
and girls who have the exceptional opportunity to venture into outer
space.
Such stories as “The First Man Into Space,” “The Peril From Outer
Space,” and “Mystery Eyes Over Earth” will take you into a new world,
where the exciting adventures are based on sound predictions from
present scientific knowledge.
Traveling in pressurized ships, dressed in special space suits, using
oxygen tanks, the young travelers explore some of the heavenly bodies in
super thrilling adventures requiring the utmost courage, fidelity and
devotion to duty and to country.
GROSSET & DUNLAP _Publishers_
New York 10, N. Y.
_Teen-Age Science Fiction Stories_
_by_ Richard M. Elam, Jr.
_Illustrated by Charles H. Geer_
The introduction by Captain Burr Leyson sets the pace for this exciting
book of stories dealing with the newest theories of inter-planetary
communication and the scientific advances that might make possible some
of the adventures here described.
The author of these stories, Richard M. Elam, Jr. has been interested in
science fiction since he was a boy and, although he has written hundreds
of stories and articles, those included in this volume have never before
appeared in book form. The author builds his science stories around a
framework of established scientific fact and likely possibilities. In
that way, the reader is stimulated beyond the limits of his scientific
education by the thrilling entertainment of this exciting volume and is
encouraged to probe further the mystery of the universe in his studies,
experiments and imagination.
While some of these stories, such as, “What Time Is It,” are pure
fantasy, most of them are based on actual scientific possibilities.
Grosset & Dunlap _Publishers_
New York 10, N. Y.