Rip was never more eloquent. He argued, he begged, and he wheedled.
The _Aquila’s_ chief physician listened with polite interest, but he shook
his head. "Lieutenant, you simply are not aware of the close call you’ve
had. Another two hours without treatment and we might not have been able
to save you."
"I appreciate that," Rip assured him. "But I’m fine now, sir."
"You are not fine. You are anything but fine. We’ve loaded you with
antibiotics and blood cell regenerator, and we’ve given you a total
transfusion. You feel fine, but you’re not."
The doctor looked at Rip’s red hair. "That’s a fine thatch of hair you
have. In a week or two it will be gone and you’ll have no more hair than
an egg. A well person doesn’t lose hair."
The ship’s radiation safety officer had put both Rip’s and Santos’s
dosimeters into his measuring equipment. They had taken over a hundred
roentgens of hard radiation above the tolerance limit. This was the result
of being caught unshielded when the last nuclear charge went off.
"Sir," Rip pleaded, "you can load us with suppressives. It’s only a few
days more before we reach Terra. You can keep us going until then. We’ll
both turn in for full treatment as soon as we get to the space platform.
But we have to finish the job, can’t you see that, sir?"
The doctor shook his head. "You’re a fool, even for a Planeteer. Before
you get over this you’ll be sicker than you’ve ever been. You have a month
in bed waiting for you. If I let you go back to the asteroid, I’ll only be
delaying the time when you start full treatment."
"But the delay won’t hurt if you inject us with suppressives, will it?"
Rip asked quickly. "Don’t they keep the sickness checked?"
"Yes, for a maximum of about ten days. Then they no longer have sufficient
effect and you come down with it."
"But it won’t take ten days," Rip pointed out. "It will only take a
couple, and it won’t hurt us."
MacFife had arrived to hear the last exchange. He nodded sympathetically.
"Doctor, I can appreciate how the lad feels. He started something and he
wants to finish it. If y’can let him, safely, I think ye should."
The doctor shrugged. "I can let him. There’s a nine to one chance it will
do him no harm. But the one chance is what I don’t like."
"I’ll know it if the suppressives start to wear off, won’t I?" Rip asked.
"You certainly will. You’ll get weaker rapidly."
"How rapidly?"
"Perhaps six hours. Perhaps more."
Rip nodded. "That’s what I thought. Doctor, we’re less than six hours from
Terra by ship. If the stuff wears off, we can be in the hospital within a
couple of hours. Once we go into a braking ellipse, we can reach a
hospital in less than an hour by snapper-boat."
"Let him go," MacFife said.
The doctor wasn’t happy about it, but he had run out of arguments. "All
right, Commander. If you’ll assume responsibility for getting him off the
asteroid and into a Terra or space platform hospital in time."
"I’ll do that," MacFife assured him. "Now get your hyposprays and fill him
full of that stuff you use. The corporal, too."
"Sergeant," Rip corrected. His first action on getting back to the
asteroid would be to recommend Santos’s promotion to Terra base. He
intended to recommend Kemp for corporal, too. He was sure the Planeteers
at Terra would make the promotions.
The two Federation cruisers were still holding course along with the
asteroid, the Connie cruiser between them.
Within an hour, Rip and Santos, both in false good health thanks to
medical magic, were on their way back to the asteroid in a ball-bat boat.
[Illustration: "Let Him Go Back to the Asteroid, Doctor."]
"Let Him Go Back to the Asteroid, Doctor."
The remaining time passed quickly. The sun receded. The Planeteers
corrected course. Rip sent in his recommendations for promotions, and
looked over the last nuclear crater to see why the blast had started the
asteroid spinning.
The reason could only be guessed. The blast probably had opened a fault in
the crystal, allowing the explosion to escape partially in the wrong
direction.
Once the course was corrected, Rip calculated the position for the final
nuclear charge. When the asteroid reached the correct position relative to
earth, the charge would not only change its course but slow its speed
somewhat. The asteroid would go around the earth in a series of
ever-tightening ellipses, using Terra’s gravity, plus rocket fuel, to slow
it down to the right orbital speed.
When it reached the proper position, tubes of rocket fuel would change the
course again, putting it into an orbit around the earth close to the space
platform. It wasn’t practical to take the thorium rock in for a landing.
They would lose control and the asteroid would flame to earth like the
greatest meteor ever to hit the planet.
Putting the asteroid into an orbit around earth was actually the most
delicate part of the whole trip, but Rip wasn’t worried. He had the
facilities of Terra base within easy reach by communicator. He dictated
his data and let them do the mathematics on the giant electronic
computers.
He and his men rode the gray planet past the moon, so close they could
almost see the Planeteer Lunar base, circled Terra in a series of
ellipses, and finally blasted the asteroid into its final orbit within
sight of the space platform.
Landing craft and snapper-boats swarmed to meet them and within an hour
after their arrival the Planeteers were surrounded by spacemen, cadets
from the platform, and officers and men wearing Planeteer black.
A cadet approached Rip and looked at him with awe. "Sir, I don’t know how
you ever did it!"
And Rip, his eyes on the great curve of earth, answered casually, "There’s
one thing every space-chick has to learn if he’s going to be a Planeteer.
There’s always a way to do anything. To be a Planeteer you have to be able
to figure out the way."