In like manner tubes four, two and then three were started and
tested, and finally reported firing evenly. The ship seemed more than
ever straining, as though anxious to get into the air and into free
space--but remained on the ground.
"Up landing props."
Jon touched another stud, and they could feel the motor lifting the
landing props into their slots in the hull.
"Take off."
The roar deepened as Jon increased the amounts of fuel being fed into
the tubes. The ship lifted effortlessly, easily, into the air.
"Check acceleration pressure."
"Normal to speed."
"Check altimeter."
"One thousand seven hundred."
"Level off."
A moment of maneuvering, then Jon reported, "Ship level at twenty-four
hundred, traveling parallel to ground surface."
"Check rocket balance."
"All tubes on balance."
"Switch on auto-pilot."
"Auto on, but keeping ready to switch back to manual if necessary."
Jak loosened his straps and went to look out of the port, but Jon kept
his gaze fastened on the lookout plate before him, his hands resting
lightly on the controls, although they were not connected now.
Beneath them the land was sliding by, as the ship cruised at the slow
speed, for it, of just under a thousand miles an hour. The boys saw the
same sort of jungle forests, the same occasional clearings. From time
to time the glint of water revealed rivers or lakes, the latter seldom
more than a mile or so in width or length.
After nearly an hour, they were flying above a huge plain, covered with
some sort of grass or grain. They had been above this for some minutes
when Jon uttered an exclamation and Jak came up quickly to see what his
brother had spotted in the magnifier-screen.
"Look down there, Owl," the younger brother was excited. "Thousands of
cattle!"
"Whew! Most like those old buffalo-herds we read the old pioneers saw
on the western plains of Noramer. Hey, those things are tripeds, too,
like the big one we shot, and the rabbits."
"Yes, I see. Must be the usual thing here. But those down there are
smaller, like cows. Wonder if they're good to eat, or give milk?"
"Don't know, but we sure want to report this."
He took several pictures with the recording camera, then made notations
in the data book. The two continued watching until the tremendous herd
was out of sight behind them, and they were flying once more above a
great forest. They had gone almost two thousand miles when they saw
ahead and downward the beginnings of what was either an ocean or a
great sea. As they drew closer, they still could not see its further
shore.
"I don't remember this from before, do you?" Jon looked perplexed.
"Yes, I think this must be the one we saw part of from the north--that
is, I assume it was north, as we were near the icecap. But I didn't
realize it was so...."
"Hey, look down there! That proves I was right." Jon pointed
triumphantly toward his visiplate. "See those high-water marks along
the shore? That means this moon is big enough to cause tides, same as
Luna does to Terra."
"What good, really, are tides?"
"Why," superciliously, "they're one of the most useful things God has
given man. They ... they...." Jon stopped, flushed, then laughed.
"Darned if I know what they're good for. Of course, if they're high
enough, men can make tide-motors and produce power, but now that we've
got atomics, we don't need those."
"I suppose we should record them, though." Jak was tactful enough not
to laugh.
"Yes, write it down."
They were over an hour passing above this ocean, and had begun to
wonder if it was greater in extent than Terra's Pacific. But finally
they made out in the distance the dim blueness of the farther shore.
"That's some ocean all right. Shows there's lots of water here on Two."
"With those heavy rains there'd almost have to be. This'll be of
special interest to colonists--means not only plenty of water, but if
that stream was any example, there'll be lots of fish down there to
start a big food industry later."
About two hundred miles past the eastern shore of the ocean, they saw
the blue of mountains in the decreasing distance. Soon Jon had to rise
higher and higher to clear them safely. Some of the individual peaks
seemed to be nearly five miles high, and one or two of them, almost at
the range of visibility, the boys estimated to be even taller.
"Probably lots of metals here," Jon commented. "I'll swing back and
over them again, and let 'Annie' get to work."
"Yes, this list says to report on metallic ores. Say, doesn't it seem
funny to you that there are no people on a world as capable as this of
supporting life? Wonder why?"
"No telling. Pop says lots of Earthlike planets don't have any
inhabitants capable of any sort of civilization. But that means more
ready-made worlds for Terrans to colonize."
Jon made their ship circle above the mountains while the boys took
readings with the spectro-analyzer. Then they started on again. After
almost another hour, when they were over one of the few desert places
they had seen, Jon suddenly leaned forward with a little intake of
breath that his brother noticed.
"What's up?"
"Not sure. But listen to 'Annie' click. From the reading, I think
there must be some of that metal Pop was so positive about, down there
somewhere."
"The stuff for a new fuel?"
"Yes. We don't know it'd be any good as fuel, but its atomic weight
seems to be so high Pop was all excited when the spectrogram of this
sun showed it. He said he felt sure we'd find it on at least one of
these planets."
"It'll take a lot of time to locate it exactly, won't it?"
"Not too much, with the new gadgets they have for locating metal ores."
Jon tried not to sound impatient with his brother's ignorance. "We've
got one that lets us cruise around in the air and spot it fairly close,
then land and find the exact place quite easily."
"What sort of gadget?"
Jon shrugged. "Don't know exactly how they work, but I can use one.
Something like a spectroscope that works without first having to heat
the metals into gas. Plus something like those old Geiger counters they
used to trace radioactives. Plus some other ideas the technies put
into them. It tells about them in one of our reelbooks there. You go
get ours--I think it's in Bin 14, in the storeroom. Looks like a small
black suitcase with carrying straps. Meanwhile, I'll get ready to set
us down."
"I'll hurry so's to be back to read the routine for you."
While his brother was gone, Jon activated the bow retarders--after
snapping off the stern tubes. Then he sent the ship into a curve that
would bring them back nearer the place where he wanted to land. But
only part of his mind was doing that--the rest was wondering why
there had to be so much fuss and detail in landing and taking-off with
a ship. Why couldn't it be fixed so one man could navigate and pilot
without all this bother? It ought not to be too difficult....
Jak was soon back with the recorder, and Jon showed him how to read
it. Soon they located what seemed to be the center of that strange
disturbance, and with Jak's help, Jon set the ship down on the sand,
fairly close to where they thought that hoped-for metal or its ore
might be found.
When the two boys went into the living room, they told their mother
what they had landed for, and that they were going out to look for the
source of this excitement.
"Is it really necessary?" she asked anxiously. "Mr. C. didn't say
anything to me about any such thing. Haven't we got fuel enough to get
home on?"
"Sure, Mom," Jon hastened to explain. "But Pop thought this new stuff
would be a lot more powerful than the fuel we're using. Said it ought
to give us far greater cruising range with lots less storage space. If
we found something of the sort, it would be a great contribution to
space travel."
"That's right," Jak added, "and if we do find such a thing here, miners
will soon be flocking after it, and that'll mean _beaucoup_ credits for
us."
"Well," doubtfully, "I guess you know best. Your father seems to be
growing better, and lets me feed him, even though he hasn't ever seemed
to regain full consciousness. If you are sure this is what he'd do if
awake, I suppose it is what you should do."
* * * * *
"Looks like a funny place for ore," Jon said as the two boys left the
ship and started at a fast pace in the direction "Annie" had pointed
out as the center of activity. "I'd have expected it to be in the
mountains, not in a desert like this."
"Yes, I was wondering about that." The elder brother shook his head
slowly. "But you can tell there's something here. What is it we're
really looking for? Oh, I know it's metal or ore of some kind," he
added hurriedly as he saw Jon start a retort. "What I mean is, is it
ore or natural nuggets, and is it radioactive, or what?"
Jon grinned as he trotted along. "Don't really know much more than you.
I know how to detect it, and I'll know it if we find it. But to tell
ahead of time, I haven't the minnow of an idea."
They had actually gone less than a quarter of a mile when the heat of
the sun, reflected from the hot, white, desert sand, became almost
unbearable. Finally Jak stopped, wiping the pouring perspiration from
his face and neck. "We can't take much of this. Better go back and get
our suits."
"Yes, guess you're right." Jon was also working his handkerchief
overtime. "The refrigs in them will keep us cooler, even if they're
harder to walk in."
"And the suit-goggles will protect us better from the actinic rays
of this sun," Jak said. "We're so close--only sixty-five or seventy
millions, you said?--that the solar rays are lots stronger than those
we get back on Terra, even in the deserts."
"Sure, those jungle trees protected us before, so we didn't notice
them."
Their mother heard them as they returned and came to see what the
trouble was. When they explained, as they were putting on their suits,
she again warned them to be careful.
Then she added, somewhat hastily, "It's just a mother's instinct
to keep warning her children to be careful. I know you boys always
are--the fact that you came back rather than take chances shows this.
Please don't feel badly that I keep nagging at you."
"Heck, Mom, we know you aren't nagging." Jon hugged her. "If you ever
quit warning us, that's when we'd really get worried."
Their suits on and the refrigerators working, the pair began retracing
their steps. Jon led the way, since he was carrying the detector. They
went in a decreasing spiral to locate the center, then made a beeline
for that spot.
But after almost a mile the signal seemed to grow weaker, and they
stopped for a conference.
"Must have passed it," Jon said over his suit-radio as his puzzled eyes
studied the meters on the finder.
"Try going back thirty or forty yards to the right, then back toward
the left," Jak suggested.
Soon Jon shouted and started off in a new direction, but more slowly,
and Jak ran quarteringly toward him.
Inside half a mile Jon lost the beam again, and once more they
quartered to find it. In narrower and narrower circles they searched.
Suddenly Jak stumbled and fell to the ground. As he started to rise,
Jon heard his excited yell coming through his earphones.
6
At his brother's eager cry, Jon ran over toward where the older boy was
stooping down, examining carefully something almost completely embedded
in the sand. He saw Jak rise, take his shovel from the carrying straps
on his suit's back, and start uncovering whatever it was he had
stumbled over.
As Jon came up, he uttered an exclamation of surprise.
"Why ... what ... that's a metal plate. What is it, Jak?"
"Don't ... know ... yet," the elder panted as he worked even more
feverishly with his shovel. Jon quickly laid down the detector, which
was clicking excitedly, to unsling his own shovel and begin digging.
In a few moments they had completely bared the metal plate, and could
now see it was about ten by four feet, and hinged on one side.
"Looks like a trap door."
"Sure does. Lend a hand--let's see if we can open it."
The crack along the edge was not wide enough for the gloved fingers of
their suits, so Jon inserted his shovel tip in the crack as a prize.
Jak did the same and after many attempts--for it was much heavier even
than they expected--they managed to lift the edge a bit.
"Can you hold it alone a sec?" Jak asked.
"Try," Jon threw his whole weight on the end of the shovel handle,
while Jak quickly found a small stone and wedged it in the opening.
Then, with Jon moving his shovel farther and farther back along the
edge, Jak pushed ever larger stones closely behind him, and they
finally managed to get the cover high enough so they were able to tip
it back, but only after considerable straining and puffing.
"What do you suppose is down there?" Jon hopped about, digging at the
sand with his boot tip.
"Don't know, but it has sure been a long time since anyone used this."
Jak spoke slowly.
"How can you tell?"
"Because of all the sand that's sifted in here, silly. You don't think
this is just a box of sand, do you? It could have been here thousands
and thousands of years."
"You mean ... there were people living here then?"
The elder boy shook his head. "Maybe yes, maybe no. It could have been
folks who merely visited here. Well, what do we do now?"
Jon picked up his shovel. "You're the one that's silly now. We clear it
out and look."
For some time the two made the sand fly, then Jak's shovel struck
metal, and feverishly the two concentrated on that spot. Another few
minutes and they could see it was a large metal chest that almost
filled this covered, metal-lined pit. When they finally had the top of
the box completely exposed, they found its cover fastened with a simple
hasp, which was quickly opened. Then they lifted this second lid.
Inside, the box was completely filled with thousands of small cubes of
some sort of glistening metal. Jak started to reach for one but Jon
struck his hand away.
"Listen to that detector--it has gone crazy," he yelled. "That stuff's
deadly radioactive, I bet." He started to scramble out of the hole
after slamming down the lid. "We get out of here, but fast. Then we
talk about it."
Jak had sense enough to heed his brother's warning, and lost no time in
following. Some little distance away, the two stopped to debate what
they were to do.
"You know what I think?" Jon's eyes gleamed. "I think this was a fuel
cache left by people who used to make trips around the galaxy, and not
something left by people who once lived here."
"You're nuts. Who--and when--and why didn't they ever come to Terra, if
they had space-flight? If they came this close, wouldn't they have gone
there, too?"
"Not necessarily--space is so big and Sol is relatively small, you
know. But maybe they did get to Earth, at that." Jon grew more
thoughtful. "Remember our reading about all the strange things people
reported seeing, hundreds...."
"You mean those old 'flying saucer' reports a couple of centuries ago?"
"Yes, them. And even before that, there'd been reports of strange
airships and things. Why, there was one--that's almost four hundred
years ago--of a Dutch sea captain who saw something in the air above
the Indi Ocean and reported it in his log. Even made a sketch of it,
that was almost exactly like those made later by people who said they'd
seen it."
"_Mmmm_," Jak had been thinking back, "then maybe the Bible story of
Ezekiel's 'wheel within a wheel' he saw in the air, was one?"
"Sure. Earth people for centuries have seen all sorts of unknown
things."
"Then maybe your idea isn't so wild, after all."
"The question now is," Jon ignored the apology, "how do we take some
of this stuff back to the ship, and how do we test it to see if it's
fuel--or don't we?"
"That's more your line than mine. What do you suggest?"
Jon thought seriously for several minutes, then brightened. "You stay
here so I can see where I'm going, and I'll go get the ship and bring
it here. Then we'll try one of those cubes in the generator."
"You ... you think it's safe?"
"What would get you, out here in this desert?"
"I didn't mean that, and you know it. I meant, do you think it's safe
to try this stuff that way?"
"Oh, that? Sure." Jon threw down the extra things he was carrying, and
started away at a trot.
When he reached the ship and was inside the airlocks, he called to his
mother as he was sitting down at the controls.
"What's the matter, Jon?" she asked as she came in and saw him working
at the controls. "And where's Jak?"
"We found something out there too heavy to carry, and Jak's watching it
while I bring up the ship. Strap down."
She sank into the co-pilot's seat and fastened the broad belt about her
even as Jon was activating the generator and tubes. Raggedly, since he
was trying to handle the controls and read the directions at the same
time--it simply didn't occur to him to ask his mother to read them to
him--the boy finally got the ship into the air.
"What is it you've found?" His mother could contain her curiosity no
longer.
"Something we think is that new fuel Pop talked about, but it's
radioactive and we didn't dare try to carry it without special
equipment," he told her absently as the ship began lowering.
He maneuvered it to a bumpy landing close to his brother, whom they
could now see through the port, excitedly waving his arms at them. "We
think it's something some other people left here as a cache, a long,
long time ago," Jon explained as he put his controls in neutral, his
voice an excited squeak.
"Some other Earth people?" she asked incredulously. "You mean we aren't
the first ones here, after all?"
"No, we don't think it was Terrans," he said as he unstrapped. But
before he could get out of the seat, they heard the lockdoor mechanisms
working, and knew Jak was coming inboard, so the two stayed in the
control room. Jon answered his mother's anxious questions as best he
could.
Jak soon came running in and the two boys held a quick council, almost
ignoring their mother in the excitement of trying to figure a safe way
of bringing some of the fuel-stuff aboard and trying it out.
But at last she made herself heard. "I think you should wait and let
Mr. C. decide about this," she said with determination.
"How is he--awake?"
"About the same--still unconscious."
"Then don't you see, Mom, that there's no telling when he'll wake up,
and we don't want to wait that long?"
"I still say you mustn't take the chance of blowing us all to Kingdom
Come before you can have his advice and help in deciding what to do
with that new, untried and dangerous metal," she declared so firmly
that they could not ignore her. "Now you listen to your mother. This is
once when I'm setting my foot down. I will _not_ let you do it!"
Nor could their pleas move her.
"All right, Mother," Jak finally conceded defeat with--if the truth
must be told--an inner sense of relief. He, too, had been more than a
little afraid of that untried stuff. But Jon had seemed so sure, while
he knew very little about it. "We'll leave it here while we go set our
markers on the other planets."
"Unless Pop wakes up before we're finished here," Jon added sullenly,
somewhat humiliated because he felt his mother was treating him like a
little boy instead of the man and scientist he now considered himself
to be. "When he does, though, you'll see he'll say we should have tried
it."
His mother, understanding well how he felt, but still worried over the
possibilities for danger her anxious mind insisted on painting, patted
his shoulder. "In that case, Son," she said softly, "I'll apologize."
"We'd better go out and shut that trap door and mark the place some way
before we leave." Jak tried to lighten the tension.
"I'll take measurements of where we are, and that'll do just as well."
Jon's voice still held that injured tone.
Mrs. Carver kept her voice level, but her eyes caught and held those
of her younger son. "I'm sorry if I seem too stubborn about this,
Jon; but I just don't like the idea of you boys trying to handle,
alone, something you don't know anything about, especially since you
yourselves admit that it's highly dangerous."
Jon's petulance slowly disappeared, and finally he grinned and kissed
her. "You're right, as always, Mom. I'm getting too big for my
coveralls. I'll calculate courses to One, and to and around the sun,
and we'll let this ride until Pop wakes up."
While Jak and Mrs. Carver busied themselves at other tasks, Jon sweated
over the complicated math of the new courses. He knew how important
this was, especially the plan he had in mind for placing the marker
in its orbit about the sun. He knew their very lives depended on the
correctness of his calculations. So he did them slowly, carefully, and
checked them closely to make sure he had done them right and made no
mistakes.
But when he was finished, he put the sheets of calculations in a
drawer, took more paper and figured the courses over a second time.
That solution he also put in the drawer, and figured it the third time,
without consulting what he had done before.
When he had completed this third computation he took out the other two
sets and compared the three. All came out exactly the same ... and he
gasped in relief and sank back, trembling with thankfulness, in the
pilot's seat. They must be right.
* * * * *
While Mrs. Carver and her sons were eating lunch they heard a weak call
from the bunkroom, and ran in to find their father fully awake. He
seemed surprised at his condition, but Jak explained swiftly what had
happened, and Jon told briefly what they had done and were planning to
do next.
"That's good; that's very good," he said drowsily, and before Jon could
say anything about finding that new metal, his father had again sunk
into sleep--or unconsciousness; not even Jak could tell which.
"Well," Jon tried to be brave about his disappointment, "I guess we'll
just have to go ahead. But isn't it swell that Pop woke up fully?"
"It certainly is." Mrs. Carver had tears of joy in her eyes. "Now we
know he'll soon be all right."
The trip to Planet One--"Tad"--was neither long nor eventful, once they
got started. They found, as expected, that the small world--smaller
than Sol's Mercury--was so close to the sun that it was fearfully hot,
even on the equator, or "intermediate" zone.
Despite the refrigerators on the ship, it was becoming hot inside,
and all stripped as far as decency allowed. The planet had no
real atmosphere, but many of the metals--indeed, the very rocks,
themselves--were so largely molten, especially on the eternally
sunward side, that there was a fog of gasses about the surface. These
gaseous emanations were in a state of motion much like that of Earthly
cyclones, constantly swirling and blowing with terrific velocity.
The boys carefully examined their spectro-analyzer, but "Annie" showed
none of that strange fuel-metal they were so keen to locate in its
natural state. "Maybe we found all there is here," Jak suggested.
"Perhaps, but somehow I can't feel that way." Jon's voice was worried.
"I must have slipped somewhere. Don't see how just one boxful could
have shown up so clearly from as many light years away as we first
discovered it."
Despite the conditions the young planet mappers found here on One, the
Colonial law required that a sending beacon be set up on ALL planets,
or else in an orbit about them. They decided to place theirs on top of
one of the highest of the small mountains that comprised the twilight
zone.
Jon made up the tape for this planet's signal-marker, while Jak brought
it from the storeroom. When the tape was installed and running, the
sender was placed in the lock between the inner and outer doors, and
the boys returned to the control room.
Jon directed the ship toward the range of mountains and when he neared
them Jak--from his co-pilot's seat--worked the remote controls and the
outer lockdoor swung open. Then he activated the "distant hands"--the
handling mechanism that was an integral part of the airlock's
equipment, for handling materials into and out of the ship.
Watching through his special visiplate--really a sort of two-way
television--Jak made the grips pick up the signal-sender box, ready to
deposit it on the hard, hot ground outside when Jon would swoop down
over the pre-selected mountaintop.
"Move it outside," Jon called, and Jak did so. "Set it down." Jon
yelled, and as soon as he was sure Jak had placed the sender solidly,
sent the space-yacht rising higher and away from the planet. Then Jak
closed the outer door; turned in his co-pilot's seat, and tuned in
their receiver. Soon they caught the message and knew everything was
jetting fair.
"Nice going, Owl," Jon applauded.
"Aw, you're just saying that because it's true," Jak grunted, and Jon
turned his attention once more to his controls and the new course he
had plotted for their swing around the sun of this system, now less
than thirty million miles away.
"How close d'you go?" Jak was more interested than fearful, having
confidence in his brother's skill.
"We have to follow a course so that when the sender is dumped, it will
take up a closed orbit--the more nearly circular the better--around the
sun. Also, we'll have to have speed enough so we won't get fried to a
crisp at the near-point, which figures to be about ten million miles."
"Isn't that pretty close?" their mother, who had slipped into the
control room quietly just after Jak had placed the sender, tried not to
sound too frightened.
"Relax, Mother, the kid knows what he's doing," Jak tried to calm her.
"I've figured this three times, Mom," Jon said earnestly. "Got the same
answer each time, so I _know_ we can do it."
"Well," still doubtfully, "I guess you do know what you are doing,
but that seems awfully close." She struggled with herself and finally
managed a weak smile. "I promised to let you boys make the decisions.
I'll go lie down in my bunk so I won't know what's happening until it's
all over."
"You do that, Mother. I'm not worrying. Jon really knows his stuff,"
Jak assured her brightly. But as soon as she had left the control room,
he turned worried eyes to his brother. "I ... I hope you actually do,
Chubby." His voice quavered a bit.
Jon grinned mockingly. "There's one sure thing. If I'm wrong, we'll
never know it. But I've studied this a lot since I knew it was up to
me. I know the technique and, as I said before, I've computed our
course three times and come up with the same figures each time. And we
have to set it as close as possible. Now, either hit your bunk or set
your seat to recline. We're up to better than two G's already, and I'm
building to five."
"Yes, I feel us getting heavier. I'll stay with you." Jak made sure his
straps were in place, then tilted his seat.
Jon cranked his own to recline, the control panel automatically
slanting to keep it in the same relative position. His arms were
resting on movable slides, and the controls he would have to manipulate
on this dangerous orbit were all beneath his hands and fingers.
Closer and closer they drove to the sun with ever mounting speed.
Their gallant little ship's refrigerators were full on; all shutters
in place. Their only view of the outside was through one visiplate
whose aperture was closed until only a tiny slit was open. But it was
enough, although Jon was forced to keep building up layer after layer
of protective, colored plastic to make the intense, blinding light of
the swiftly approaching sun bearable.
Clearly visible now were the tremendous streamers of matter the sun was
throwing up as prominences. Jon was able to see huge sunspots occurring
here and there about the surface of that mighty furnace--tremendous
cyclonic storms of atomic disintegration. So interested was he in this
first close view of a sun that he almost forgot the reason for this
dangerous trip.
Almost--but not quite, for his mind was well-trained to remember the
things that had to be recalled, young as he was. So his eyes glanced
often at the distance gauge. Soon he yelled at Jak, "Get ready to throw
out the sender."
Jak struggled to place his hands on the controls, a thing he had not
had the foresight to do before Jon started building up that tremendous
acceleration. His muscles strained. Sweat broke out on him even worse
than that the heat from the sun brought. His breathing became gasps.
There seemed to be a constricting band about his chest. His eyes felt
as though the balls were being pushed down into his head. He just
couldn't possibly move a muscle under this terrible pressure.
Still he exerted every force of will and of muscle. Slowly, painfully,
he stretched out his fingertips a fraction of an inch. He dug them into
the fabric of the arm rest and pulled the palm of his hand along. Then
he forced the rest of his arm to follow his fingers and hand. Over and
over, straining to do what had to be done. Then victory at last--his
hand and arm were on the sliding arms. Now it was easier, and soon his
fingers were on the controls.
"S-say when," he panted then.
"Open the outer door now ... we're almost there," Jon commanded,
watching his controls intently. "We're going ... so fast ... won't
have ... much time."
"You're sure ... sender'll keep ... correct orbit?"
"Sure," Jon's voice was confident. "If we don't dump ... exactly on
zero ... it'll just change shape ... of orbit a little ... that's all."
"Door open," Jak reported a moment later.
"Lift sender, but don't eject yet."
"Right."
More minutes while the heat increased, and even through that tiny
aperture and the covering shields, the blinding light was coming in
so fiercely Jon was tempted to close it entirely. Then, with a snort
of disgust at his stupidity, he did close it--and breathed a sigh of
relief as that piercing beam died. He didn't need to see. There was no
reason to look. Even if there was, it was too late now to do anything
about it. If his calculations were correct, the ship would get away
safely. If his figures were wrong ... he shuddered. Well, they'd never
know it, that was for sure.
He made himself forget that dire possibility and kept his eyes glued to
his indicators.
"Almost there."
"Ready." Jak tensed his hand and fingers above the controls. He hoped
he could do it when the time came. But this awful heat ... this
horrible acceleration pressure....
"Drop it!" Jon yelled suddenly.
Jak tensed hand and fingers and tried to depress the button. It seemed
he couldn't move. He gritted his teeth, and again called upon his inner
strength, his will. From that hidden depth he found that extra measure
of energy necessary to curve his fingertip downward.
His eyes, peering into the shielded intercom visiplate, saw those
distant hands--the servo-mechanism in the lock--swing the box out
through the opened doorway. When he could no longer see it, because of
the angle at which his visiplate was set, he touched and depressed the
second button. Now, if the mechanism was still functioning in spite of
that terrific heat, its arms were opening and the box slipping away.
He withdrew the handling arms, and as they came into sight again he
saw with satisfaction that they were empty. He locked them into their
cradle, then closed the outer lockdoor.
"Done," he reported thankfully ... and let himself go. Unconsciousness
claimed him at once. Why suffer, had been his thought, when he could so
easily sleep until this intolerable pressure was gone.
So quickly did he slip away he did not realize that Jon, too, after a
final quick glance at his board, and knowing that everything necessary
had been done, had also relaxed into unconsciousness. Did not know, or
care, that their ship was now speeding around and away from the sun.
Did not realize that all four of the Carvers were now unconscious.
But their blackout did not last too long. In a few hours, during which
the auto-pilot took them smoothly and accurately away from that titanic
furnace, safety distance was attained and the frightful acceleration
began to ease.
By the time they were traveling at a little less than two gravities,
Jon stirred. His memory cells began functioning once more, and slowly
he awakened. As soon as he realized where he was, and why, he glanced
at his various telltales.
"We made it!" he yelled triumphantly. Then, as he heard no reply from
his brother, he quickly raised his seat to upright, and turned to look
at Jak. The latter was still lying down, his face white and strained.
Quickly, anxiously, Jon released himself and sprang across to his
brother's side. He rubbed Jak's wrists and temples. Soon the flush of
returning blood showed, and the elder sighed and opened his eyes.
"We made it!" Jon cried again as he pushed Jak's seat into erect.
"Everything went off shark-y."
Jak struggled into full consciousness, then began loosening his straps.
"Mother and Father?" he exclaimed. "Did they come through all right?"
7