That stopped them. They stared at him. He added quickly, "Supplies came
aboard at Marsport. We’ll get the clue when we open them. Headquarters
must have known the method when they assigned us and ordered the
equipment."
Koa stood up. He was the only one who could have moved upright against the
terrific deceleration. He walked to a rack at one side of the squadroom
and took down a copy of "The Space Navigator." Then, resuming his seat, he
looked questioningly at Rip. "Anything else, sir? I thought I’d read what
there is about asteroids."
"Go ahead," Rip agreed. He sat back as Koa began to recite what data there
was, but he didn’t listen. His mind was going ten astro units a second. He
thought he knew why he had been chosen for the job. Word of the priceless
asteroid must have reached headquarters only a short time before he was
scheduled to leave the space platform. He could imagine the speed with
which the specialists at Terra base had acted. They had sent orders
instantly to the fastest cruiser in the area, the _Scorpius_, to stand by
for further instructions. Then their personnel machines must have whirred
rapidly, electronic brains searching for the nearest available Planeteer
officer with an astrophysics specialty and astrogation training.
He could imagine the reaction when the machine turned up the name of a
brand-new lieutenant. But the choice was logical enough. He knew that
most, if not all, of the Planeteer astrophysicists were either in high or
low space on special work. Chances are there was no astrophysicist nearer
than Ganymede. So the choice had fallen to him.
He had a mental image of the Terra base scientists feeding data into the
electronic brain, taking the results, and writing fast orders for the men
and supplies needed. If his estimate was correct, work at the Planeteer
base had been finished within an hour of the time word was received.
When they opened the cases brought aboard by the Martians, he would see
that the method of blasting the asteroid into a course for earth was all
figured out for him.
Rip was anxious to get at those cases. Not until he saw the method of
operation could he begin to figure his course. But there was no
possibility of getting at the stuff until brennschluss. He put the problem
out of his mind and concentrated on what his men were saying.
"... and he slugged into that asteroid going close to seven AU’s," Santos
was saying. The little Filipino corporal shrugged expressively.
Rip recognized the story. It was about a supply ship, a chemical drive
rocket job that had blasted into an asteroid a few years before.
Private Dowst shrugged, too. "Too bad. High vack was waiting for him.
Nothing you can do when Old Man Nothing wants you."
Rip listened, interested. This was the talk of old space hands. They had
given the high vacuum of empty space a personality, calling it "high
vack," or "Old Man Nothing." With understandable fatalism, they
believed—or said they believed—that when high vacuum really wanted you,
there was nothing you could do.
Rip had come across an interesting bit of word knowledge. Spacemen and
Planeteers alike had a way of using the phrase, "By Gemini!" Gemini, of
course, was the constellation of the Twins, Castor and Pollux. Both were
useful stars for astrogation. The Roman horse soldiers of ancient history
had sworn, "By Gemini," or "By the Twins." The Romans believed the stars
were the famous Greek warriors Castor and Pollux, placed in the heavens
after their deaths. In later years, the phrase degenerated to simply "by
jiminy" and its meaning had been lost. Now, although few spacemen knew the
history of the phrase, they were using it again, correctly.
Other space talk grew out of space itself, and not history. For instance,
the worst thing that could happen to a man was to have his helmet broken.
Let the transparent globe be shattered and the results were both quick and
final. Hence the oft-heard threat, "I’ll bust your bubble."
Speaking of bubbles ... Rip realized suddenly that he and his men would
have to live in bubbles and space suits while on the asteroid. None of the
minor planets were big enough to have an atmosphere or much gravity.
If only he could get a look into those cases! But the ship was still
decelerating and he would have to wait. He put his head against the chair
rest and settled down to wait as patiently as he could.
Brennschluss was a long time coming. When the deceleration finally
stopped, Rip didn’t wait for gravity. He hauled himself out of the chair
and the squadroom and went down the corridor hand over hand. He headed
straight for where the supplies were stacked, his Planeteers close behind
him.
Commander O’Brine arrived at the same time. "We’re starting to scan for
the asteroid," he greeted Rip. "May be some time before we find it."
"Where are we, sir?" Rip asked.
"Just above the asteroid belt near the outer edge. We’re beyond the
position where the asteroid was sighted, moving along what the _Altair_
figured as its orbit. I’m not stretching space, Foster, when I tell you
we’re hunting for a needle in a junk pile. This part of space is filled
with more objects than you would imagine, and they all register on the
rad-screens."
"We’ll find it," Rip said confidently.
O’Brine nodded. "Yes. But it probably will take some hunting. Meanwhile,
let’s get at those cases. The supply clerk is on his way."
The supply clerk arrived, issued tools to the Planeteers, then opened a
plastic case attached to one of the boxes and produced lists. As the
Planeteers opened and unpacked the crates, Rip and O’Brine inspected and
the clerk checked the items off.
The first case produced a complete chemical cutting unit with an
assortment of cutting tips and adapters. Rip looked around for the gas
cylinders and saw none. "Something’s wrong," he objected. "Where’s the
fuel supply for the torch?"
The supply clerk inspected the lists, shuffled papers, and found the
answer.
"The following," he read, "are to be supplied from the _Scorpius_
complement. One landing boat, large, model twenty-eight. Eight each,
oxygen cutting unit gas bottles. Four each, chemical cutting unit fuel
tanks."
"That’s that," Rip said, relieved. Apparently he was supposed to do a lot
of cutting on the asteroid, probably of the thorium itself. The hot flame
of the torch could melt any known substance. The torch itself could melt
in unskilled hands.
The next case yielded a set of astrogation instruments carefully cradled
in a soft, rubbery plastic. Rip left them in the case and put them to one
side. As he did so, Sergeant-major Koa let out a whistle of surprise.
"Lieutenant, look at this!"
Corporal Santos exclaimed, "Well stonker me for a stupid space squid! Do
they expect us to find any people on this asteroid?"
The object was a portable rocket launcher designed to fire light attack
rockets. It was a standard item of fighting equipment for Planeteers.
"I recognize the shape of those cases over there, now," Koa said. "Ten
racks of rockets for the launcher, one rack to a case."
Rip scratched his head. He was as puzzled as Santos. Why supply fighting
equipment for a crew on an asteroid that couldn’t possibly have any living
thing on it?
He left the puzzle for the future and called for more cases. The next two
yielded projectile type handguns for ten men, with ammunition, and
standard Planeteer space knives. The space knives had hidden blades which
were driven forth violently when the operator pushed a thumb lever,
releasing the gas in a cartridge contained in the handle. The blades
snapped forth with enough force to break a bubble, or to cut through a
space suit. They were designed for the sole purpose of space hand-to-hand
combat.
The Planeteers looked at each other. What were they up against, that such
equipment was needed on a barren asteroid?
Private Dowst opened a box that contained a complete tool kit, the tools
designed to be handled by men in space suits. Yards of wire, for several
purposes, were wound on reels. Two hand-driven dynamos capable of
developing great power were included.
Corporal Pederson found a small case which contained books, the latest
astronomical data sheets, and a space computer and scratch board. These
were obviously for Rip’s personal use. He examined them. There were all
the references he would need for computing orbit, speed, and just about
anything else that might be required. He had to admire the thoroughness of
whoever had written the order. The unknown Planeteer had assumed that the
space cruiser would not have all the astrophysics references necessary and
had included a copy of each.
Several large cases remained. Koa ripped the side from one and let out an
exclamation. Rip hurried over and looked in. His stomach did a quick
orbital reverse. Great Cosmos! The thing was an atomic bomb!
[Illustration: Great Cosmos! It Was An Atomic Bomb!]
Great Cosmos! It Was An Atomic Bomb!
Commander O’Brine leaned over his shoulder and peered at the lettering on
the cylinder. "Equivalent ten KT."
In other words, the explosion the harmless-looking cylinder could produce
was equivalent to 10,000 tons of TNT, a chemical explosive no longer in
actual use but still used for comparison.
Rip asked huskily, "Any more of those things?" The importance of the job
was becoming increasingly clear to him. Nuclear explosives were not used
without good reason. The fissionable material was too valuable for other
purposes.
The sides came off the remaining cases. Some of them held fat tubes of
conventional rocket fuel in solid form, the detonators carefully packed
separately.
There were three other atomic bombs, making four in all. There were two
bombs each of five KT and ten KT.
Commander O’Brine looked at the amazing assortment of stuff. "Does that
check, clerk?"
The spaceman nodded. "Yes, sir. I found another notation that says food
supplies and personal equipment to be supplied by the _Scorpius_."
"Well, vack me for a Venusian rabbit!" O’Brine muttered. He tugged at his
ear. "You could dump me on that asteroid with this assortment of junk and
I’d spend the rest of my life there. I don’t see how you can use this
stuff to move an asteroid!"
"Maybe that’s why the Federation sent Planeteers," Rip said, and was sorry
the moment the words were out.
O’Brine’s jaw muscles bulged, but he held his temper. "I’m going to
pretend I didn’t hear that, Foster. We have to get along until the
asteroid is safely in an orbit around earth. After that, I’m going to take
a great deal of pleasure in feeding you to the spacefish, piece by piece."
It was Rip’s turn to get red. "I’m sorry, Commander. Accept my apologies."
He certainly had a lot to learn about space etiquette. Apparently there
was a time for spacemen and Planeteers to fight each other, and a time for
them to cooperate like friends. He hoped he’d catch on after a while.
"I’m sure you’ll be able to figure out what to do with this stuff,"
O’Brine said. "If you need help, let me know."
And Rip knew his apology was accepted.
The deputy commander arrived, drew O’Brine aside, and whispered in his
ear. The commander let out an exclamation and started out of the room. At
the door he turned. "Better come along, Foster."
Rip followed as the commander led the way to his own quarters. At the
door, two space officers were waiting, their faces grave.