"Pretty well," said Doc. "There's as pretty an assortment of fractured
ribs, broken limbs, cracked clavicles, and scars, mars, and abrasions
as you ever saw. There are a number dead, worse luck, but we can't do
a thing about them. We can hold on for a week as far as food and water
goes. Everyone is now interested in the manner of our rescue rather
than worrying about it." He turned to Channing. "The words Channing and
Venus Equilateral have wonderful healing powers," he said. "They all
think your gang are part magician and part sorcerer."
"Why, for goodness' sake?"
"I didn't ask. Once I told 'em you had a scheme to contact the Relay
Station, they were all satisfied that things would happen for the
better."
"Anything we can do to help you out?"
"I think not," answered Doc. "What I said before still goes. Your job
is to bring aid--and that's the sum total of your job. Every effort
must be expended on that and that alone. You've got too many whole
people depending on you to spend one second on the hurt. That's my job."
"O.K.," said Channing, "But it's going to be a long wait."
"We can afford it."
"I hope we're not complicating the job of finding us by this quartering
deceleration," said Johannson.
"We're not. We're making a sort of vector from our course, but the
deviation is very small. As long as the fellows follow our radiation,
we'll be found," Channing said with a smile. "The thing that is tough
is the fact that all the floors seem to lean over."
"Not much, though."
"They wouldn't lean at all if we were running with the whole set of
equipment," said Darlange. "We run a complete turnover without spilling
a drop from the swimming pool."
"Or even making the passengers aware of it unless they're looking at
the sky."
"Stop worrying about it," said Doc. "I'm the only guy who has to worry
about it and as long as the floor is still a floor, I can stand sliding
into the corner once in a while."
"We might tinker with the turnover drivers," offered Don. "We can
bring 'em down to a place where the velocity-deceleration vectors
are perpendicular to the floor upon which we stand while our ship is
sluing. We've got a lot of time on our hands, and I, for one, feel a
lot happier when I'm doing something."
"It's a thought," said Hadley. "Wanna try it?"
"Let's go."
* * * * *
Thirty hours after the _Relay Girl_ left the Station, Walt and Franklen
held a council of war, in which Charley Bren was the prime factor.
"We've come about two hundred million miles, and our present velocity
is something like four thousand miles per second," said Walt. "We're
going out towards Mars on a slightly-off radial course, to the North
of the ecliptic. That means we're a little over a quarter of a billion
miles from Sol, or about to hit the Asteroid Belt. Thinking it over a
little, I think we should continue our acceleration for another thirty
hours. What say?"
"The field has shown no change in intensity that I can detect," said
Bren. "If they haven't dropped their radiated intensity, that means
that we are no closer to them than we were before. Of course, we'd
probably have to cut the distance by at least a half before any
measurable decrement made itself evident."
"They must be on the upper limit of that four thousand MPS," observed
Walt. "There's one thing certain, we'll never catch them by matching
their speed."
"Where will another thirty hours at 6-G put us and how fast?" asked
Franklen.
Silence ensued while they scribbled long figures on scratch paper.
"About eight hundred million miles from Sol," announced Walt.
"And about eight thousand MPS," added Charley.
"That's a little extreme, don't you think?" asked Franklen.
"By about thirty percent," said Walt, scratching his chin. "If we hold
to our original idea of hitting it for six thousand, where will we be?"
"That would make it about forty-five hours from take-off, and we'd be
about four hundred and sixty million miles from Sol." Charley grinned
widely and said: "By Jove!"
"What?"
"By Jove!"
"'By Jove!' What?"
"That's where we'd be--By Jove!"
"_Phew._"
"I agree with you," said Franklen to Walt. "Better ignore him."
"Sure will after that. So then we'll be 'By Jove' at six thousand.
That would be a swell place to make turnover, I think. At 1-G decel,
to about four thousand MPS, that'll put us about ... um, that'd take
us ninety hours! We'll make that 3-G, at twenty hours, which will put
us about three hundred and fifty million miles along, which plus the
original four hundred and sixty million adds up to eight hundred and
ten million miles--"
"When an astronaut begins to talk like that," interrupted Arden, "we of
the skyways say that he is talking in Congressional figures. The shoe
is on the other foot. What on earth are you fellows figuring?"
"Where we'll be and how fast we'll be going at a given instant of no
particular importance," offered Walt. "When did you wake up?"
"About the third hundred million. All of those ciphers going by made a
hollow sound, like a bullet whistling in the wind."
"Well, we're trying to make the theories of probability match with
figures. We'll know in about forty-five hours whether we were right or
not."
"It's a good thing we have all space to go around in. Are you sure that
we have all eternity?"
"Don't get anxious. They're still coming in like a ton of bricks
four times per hour, which means that they're riding easy. I don't
want to overrun them at about three thousand MPS and have to spend a
week decelerating, returning, more decelerating, and then matching
velocities."
"I see. You know best. And where is this Asteroid Belt that I've heard
so much about?"
"To the South of us by a few million miles. Those bright specks that
you can't tell from stars are asteroids. The common conception of the
Asteroid Belt being filled to overflowing with a collection of cosmic
rubble like the rings of Saturn is a lot of hooey. We'll be past in
a little while and we haven't even come close to one. Space is large
enough for all of us, I think."
"But not when all of us want the same space."
"I don't care for their area," said Walt with a smile. "Let 'em have
it, I don't care. I'll stay up here and let them run as they will."
"You mean the ones that are moving downward?" asked Arden, indicating
the sky.
"Those are asteroids, yes. We're to the North, as you may check by
going around the ship to the opposite side. You'll see Polaris almost
directly opposite, there. Sol is almost directly below us, and that
bright one that you can see if you squint almost straight up out of the
port is Saturn."
"I won't bother crossing the ship to see Polaris. I prefer the Southern
Cross anyway. The thing I'm most interested in is: Are we accomplishing
anything?"
"I think that we've spent the last thirty hours just catching up,"
explained Walt. "Up to right now we were going backwards, so to speak:
we're on even terms now, and will be doing better from here on in."
"It's the waiting that gets me down," said Arden. "Oh, for something to
do!"
"Let's eat," suggested Walt. "I'm hungry, and now that I think of it, I
have not eaten since we left the Station. Arden, you are hereby elected
to the post of galley chief. Get Jimmy from the dome if you need help."
"Help? What for?"
"He can help you lift it out of the oven. Don must have a cast-iron
stomach."
"That's hearsay. I'll show you! As soon as I find the can opener,
breakfast will be served."
"Make mine dinner," said Charley. "We've been awake all the time."
"O.K., we will have a combined meal, from grapefruit to ice cream.
Those who want any or all parts may choose at will. And fellows, please
let me know as soon as you get something tangible."
"That's a promise," said Walt. "Take it easy, and don't worry. We'll
be catching up with them one of these days."
* * * * *
"Hadley, how much coating have we got on those cathodes?"
"Not too much. We had about twenty G-hours to begin with. We went to a
half-G for about twenty hours, and now we're running on a quarter-G,
which would leave us go for forty hours more. That's a grand total of
about sixty hours."
"And the batteries?"
"In pretty good shape."
"Well, look. If it should come to a choice between floor and signal
gun, we'll choose the gun. We've about twelve hours left in the
cathodes, and since everybody is now used to quarter-G we might even
slide it down to an eighth-G, which would give us about twenty-four
hours."
"Your gun is still putting out?"
"So far as I can tell. Ten hours from now, we should know, I think,
predicating my guess on whatever meager information they must have."
"We could save some juice by killing most of the lights in the ship."
"That's a thought. Johannson, have one of your men run around and
remove all lights that aren't absolutely necessary. He can kill about
three quarters of them, I'm certain. That'll save us a few kilowatt
hours," said Channing. "And another thing. I'm about to drop the power
of our electron gun and run it continuously. If the boys are anywhere
in the neighborhood, they'll be needing the continuous disturbance for
direction finding. I'd say in another five hours that we should start
continuous radiation."
"You know, Channing, if this thing works out all right, it will be a
definite vote for pure, deductive reasoning."
"I know. But the pure deduction is not too pure. It isn't guesswork.
There are two factors of known quantity. One is that I know Walt
Franks, and the other is that he knows me. The rest is a simple matter
of the boys on the Station knowing space to the last inch, and applying
the theory of probabilities to it. We'll hear from them soon, or I'll
miss my guess. You wait."
"Yeah," drawled Captain Johannson, "we'll wait!"
* * * * *
Charley Bren made another computation and said: "Well, Walt, we've been
narrowing them down for quite a time now. We're getting closer and
closer to them, according to the field intensity. I've just got a good
idea of direction on that last five-minute shot. Have Franklen swivel
us around on this course; pretty soon we'll be right in the middle of
their shots."
"We're approaching them asymptotically," observed Walt. "I wish I knew
what our velocity was with respect to theirs. Something tells me that
it would be much simpler if I knew."
"Walt," asked Arden, "how close can you see a spaceship?"
"You mean how far? Well, I don't know that it's ever been tried and
recorded. But we can figure it out easy enough, by analogy. A period
is about thirty thousandths of an inch in diameter, and visible from
a distance of thirty inches. I mean visible with no doubt about
it's being there. That's a thousand to one. Now, the _Solar Queen_
is about six hundred feet tall and about four hundred feet in its
major diameter, so we can assume a little more than the four hundred
feet--say five hundred feet average of circular area, say--follow me?"
"Go on, you're vague, but normal."
"Then at a thousand to one, that becomes five hundred thousand
feet, and dividing by five thousand--round figures because it isn't
important enough to use that two hundred and eighty feet over the five
thousand--gives us one thousand miles. We should be able to see the
_Solar Queen_ from a distance of a thousand miles."
"Then at four thousand miles per second we'll be in and out of visual
range in a half second?"
"Oh no. They're rambling on a quite similar course at an unknown
but high velocity. Our velocity with respect to theirs is what will
determine how long they're within visual range."
"Hey, Walt," came the voice of Charley Bren. "The intensity of Don's
beam has been cut to about one quarter and is now continuous. Does that
mean anything?"
"Might mean trouble for them. Either they're running out of soup and
mean for us to hurry up, or they assume we're close enough to obviate
the need for high power. We'd better assume they want haste and act
accordingly. How're the boys on the radio detectors coming along?"
"Fine. They've taken over the direction finding and claim that we are
right on their tail."
"Anything in the sights, Jimmy?"
"Not yet. But the electroscope boys claim that quarter power or not,
the input is terrific."
"Take a rest, Jimmy. We won't be there for a while yet. No use burning
your eyes out trying to see 'em. There'll be time enough for you to do
your share after we get 'em close enough to see with the naked eye.
What do the beam-scanners say?"
"Shucks," answered the man on the scanners, "they're still radiating.
How are we going to fix 'em on a reflected wave when they're more
powerful on their own hook? The whole plate is glaring white. And,
incidentally, so is the celestial globe in the meteor-spotter. I've had
the threshold cut to the devil on that or we'd never be able to hold
this course. Anything like a meteor that comes in our way now will not
register until we're right on top of it and--"
* * * * *
The _Relay Girl_ lurched sickeningly. All over the ship, things rattled
and fell to the floors. Men grabbed at the closest solid object, and
then the _Relay Girl_ straightened out once more.
"_Woosh_," said Franks. "That was a big one."
"Big one?" called Charley Bren. "That, my friend, was none other than
the _Solar Queen_!"
"Can you prove that?"
"Sure. Our electroscopes now indicate a positive charge; they crossed
over just as we lurched."
"Jimmy, get your scope a-top and get looking. Franklen, hang on about
7-G and follow Jimmy's orders. Charley, see if you can get anything
cogent out of your gadget. Holy Green Fire, with all of a cubic million
million million megaparsecs in which to run, we have to be so good that
we run right into our quarry. Who says that radio direction finding is
not a precise science? Who says that we couldn't catch--"
"Walt, they're in sight, but losing fast."
"O.K., Jimmy, can you give me any idea as to their velocity with
respect to ours?"
"How long is she?"
"Six hundred feet."
Jimmy was silent for some seconds. "They're out of sight again, but I
make it about four to seven hundred miles per second."
"At 7-G we should match that seven hundred in about four hours."
"And then go on decelerating so that they'll catch up?"
"No," said Walt. "I used the max figure and we can assume that they
aren't going that fast, quite. At the end of four hours, we'll
turnover and wait until they heave in sight again and then we'll do
some more oscillating. We can match their velocity inside of ten hours,
or Franklen will get fired."
"If I don't," promised Franklen, "I'll quit. You can't fire me!"
"We should be able to contact them by radio," said Walt.
"Their beam is off," said Bren.
"And they are using the landing set," called the radio man, "It's
Channing. He says: 'Fancy meeting you here.' Any answer?"
"Just say, 'Dr. Channing, I presume?'"
Channing's voice came out of the ship's announcer system as the radio
man made the necessary connections. It said: "Right--but what kept you
so long?"
"Our boss was away," said Walt. "And we can't do a thing without him."
"Some boss. Some crew of wild men. Can't go off on a fishing trip
without having my bunch chasing all over the Solar System."
"What's wrong with a little sightseeing tour? We didn't mean any harm.
And speaking of harm, how are you and the rest of that bunch getting
along?"
"We're O.K. What do you plan after we finally get close enough together
to throw stones across?"
"We've got a whole hold full of spare batteries and a double set of
replacement cathodes. There is a shipload of gravanol aboard, too.
You'll need that and so will we. By the time we finish this jaunt,
we'll have been about as far out as anybody ever gets."
"Yeah--got any precise figures? We've been running on a guess and a
hope. I make it out about seven hundred million."
"Make it eight and a half. At 6-G, you'll cover another hundred and
fifty million miles before you stop. Take it twenty-two hours at
6-G--and then another twenty-two at 6. That should put you right back
here but going the other way at the same velocity. But wait, you've
been coasting. Mark off that last twenty-two hours and make it like
this: You'll be one thousand million miles from Sol when you come to a
stop at the end of the first twenty-two hours at 6-G. That hangs you
out beyond the orbit of Saturn by a couple of hundred million. Make it
back forty-four hours at 6-G, turnover and continue. By that time we'll
all be in so close that we can make any planet at will--preferably you
to Terra and we'll head for Venus Equilateral. You'll come aboard us?
No need for you to go with the rest."
"I can have the scooter sent out," said Channing. "How's Arden?"
"I'm fine, you big runabout. Wait until I get you!"
"Why Arden, I thought you might be glad to see me."
"Glad to see you?"
"But Arden--"
"Don't you 'But Arden' me, you big gadabout. Glad to see you? Boy, any
man that makes me chase him all over the Solar System! You just wait.
As soon as I get ahold of you, Don Channing, I'm going to--bust out and
bawl like a kid! Hurry up, willya?"
"I'll be right over," said Don soberly.
And, strangely enough, Don did not deviate this time.