"Yes, I rigged the automatics so they'd take care of that at the end of
one hundred and twenty-five hours," the boy explained. "Probably it was
the relief from pressure that woke us, as well as the wearing off of
the stuff Jak gave us." Then he looked at his brother. "How come we're
not famished after five days? That little glucose and stuff you gave us
wouldn't last that long, would it?"
"No, but the drug not only made us unconscious, but slowed down our
metabolism so that we burned up hardly any energy."
There was silence then while the four sipped their broth. Finally Mr.
Carver looked up at Jak. "How soon can we go through this again?"
"The book says the doctor gave as high as four doses to people, one
right after the other as they woke up, with only a few hours' rest
between them."
"_Hmmm_, then we'd better take some time out. We'll all want baths,
plenty of your mother's good cooking, and Jon and I will have to do
some computing."
"If Bogin holds his acceleration, plus and minus, we can take most
of the day, and still beat him in." Jon had been doing some rapid
preliminary figuring. "But it'll take a couple of hours--maybe more--to
compute the last hop. It's tricky. Especially, I'll have to look in the
ephemeris to find the position of Luna when we get near her orbit."
"Right, we don't want to hit her. Well, we can keep at one gravity for
at least twelve hours, then," his father said, and Mrs. Carver breathed
a sigh of relief. She was still a bit worried about their undergoing
such untried experiments, even though she trusted the abilities of her
menfolks, and knew they had all come safely through the first time.
"I'll make notes of all this, and ask each of you for your full
reactions," Jak said animatedly. "Then when we get home I'll write up a
complete report and send it to Dr. Svendholm. I'm sure he'll be tickled
pink to get this added confirmation of his studies and experiments."
"That's thoughtful of you, Son." His father smiled. "You're developing
into a true research scientist."
"He sure is!" His younger brother paid deserved tribute. Jak reddened a
bit and hastily left the control room to help his mother with her work.
They all took warm baths and changed their clothing. As Jak was helping
his father, he asked anxiously, "Now that we're alone, Father, did you
really come through all right? You look a bit more tired and worn than
before we started this."
"Sure, I'm OK," Mr. Carver said quickly, but he could not meet his
son's eyes.
"You're not, sir, and you know it and I know it," Jak smiled a bit
strainedly. "I don't like it, but I know how you feel about this, so
I'll keep quiet. How's your leg?"
"Thanks, Son. Our getting back first is very important to me, and I can
rest and get well after we reach Earth and get the Board's confirmation
on our claim. And don't forget that we might not get back at all if
Bogin catches up with us. He's ruthless about anyone who gets in his
way.... As for the leg, it aches some, but not like it did before. I
really think it's healing in fine shape."
"Let's have a look." Jak threw back the covers, and peered closely at
the leg, lifting it so he could better see all around it.
"Yes," he said finally, as he tucked in the blankets again. "It's
almost healed, and there isn't a sign of inflammation. Not even a bump
where the break was. I ... I sure hope I set it right, so that it won't
bother you later on."
His father patted his hand. "You did a grand job, I know, Son, and I'm
very grateful to you--as well as proud of having such a fine boy."
"Two fine boys, then, for Jon is certainly every bit as deserving of
your praise as I am, sir."
"That I'll certainly buy!" Mr. Carver's eyes shone.
They all sat about during the day, eating as much as they could hold of
Mrs. Carver's fine cooking, and relaxing gratefully in the comfortable
one-gravity Earth-weight.
Jon and his father worked tirelessly until they had computed precisely
where they were and how soon and how much more deceleration they would
have to use to finish their trip. Then they, too, relaxed for the
balance of the day.
Late that afternoon Jon suddenly swiveled his chair about to face his
father's recline seat.
"I think I've figured out something on that new fuel and how to use
it, Pop. Ships'll have to be changed, though. The bins will have to be
heavily lead-lined, of course, and so would the injector tubes have to
be shielded. The nozzles would have to be made smaller, so the pellets
will fit better. I figure the people who used to handle the stuff made
the nuggets that exact size on purpose--that we'd not want to try
making them the same size as our copper ones."
"That sounds reasonable. What about shielding for the generators?"
"There'd have to be a lot more of that, too. Probably thick shields of
neocarbolloy and paraffin. But can't they surround the generators, bins
and everything with force fields, as an added precaution?"
"_Mmmm_, maybe they could at that. We'd better put it up to the
scientists and technies back on Terra. Neither of us knows enough to
handle it ourselves, when it comes down to the actual work."
The boy's face fell, then he forced a smile. "I hate to give in to
anyone else on this, but you're right as rain, Pop. It is too big a
fish for us to handle alone. But I'm sure going to learn before I
finish, and some day when I run up against anything like this again,
you can bet I'll know what to do."
"What's the use of going to all that trouble when you only have that
small amount of fuel you found?" their mother asked curiously.
"Ouch! You would have to think of that," Jon grumbled, but Mr. Carver
smiled up at his wife.
"There's plenty on Planet Five, remember? And probably in other places
about the universe. You can bet that prospectors will be hunting--and
finding it--once we announce our discovery ... IF we and the scientists
can figure out what it was before it started losing its half life, and
IF we can learn how to use it," he said firmly. "Once metallurgists
have had the chance to analyze it, they won't take long to figure out
exactly what it is, and where it can probably be found--the type of sun
and planet that would have it, I mean," he added.
"And under the Prime Discoverer's code, we'll get a percentage of the
process, won't we, Pop?"
"I think so. That'll be up to the Board, but they're usually pretty
square about such things."
When it was time, Jak again gave the family the dosages of nutrients,
and then the shots. Jon had filled four thermos bottles with
strength-regaining soup his mother had made, and these were placed at
each pressure-pack, ready for their awakening. Again the four lapsed
into the complete unconsciousness of suspended animation--knowing
neither discomfort nor the long passage of time--while their little
ship bored through the immensities of space at a constant negative
acceleration of five gravities.
As before, when they awakened they felt as though they had just gone
to sleep. As soon as they had taken their initial feedings of the
thermos-hot broth, Jon and his father set to work taking observations
and making long and intricate calculations of their present speed and
placement. Where were they? How much of their utterly incomprehensible
top speed did they have left?
"Practically perfect!" Jon exclaimed happily after nearly an hour of
careful computations, as he read the last tapes from the calculator.
"It works out at one point eight four G's to atmosphere."
"O positively K," Mr. Carver agreed. "A master computer couldn't have
done any better. And Jak has certainly proved himself to be a grand
doctor."
"It's not my credit. Dr. Svendholm's the one who...."
"But it was you who made up the fluid and induced us to take it." His
mother came over and ran her hand gently through his hair. "I'm proud
of you all."
Jon had been tuning his receptors carefully, but was unable to get any
trace of Bogin's ship, and all were happy at his report.
Warm baths and changes of clothing, and the fine meals prepared by
Mrs. Carver, plus the fact they were rapidly nearing Sol, which could
be seen on their telescopic plates, made them all very gay and full of
chatter.
"I've decided I want to go back to the hospital-school and really
prepare myself to be a doctor," Jak said in no uncertain terms. "Later
I want to go into medical research."
"And I still want to enroll at the Centropolitan Institute of Atomics."
Jon's eyes were shining.
"Aren't you boys forgetting one little detail?" their father asked
drily. While the long sleeps had relaxed his body, and had practically
completed the healing of his broken leg, the pressure had not been good
for him, and his condition as a whole was worse. But his spirits were
high, and he was careful not to let any of his family know just how
weak he felt.
At his question they all looked up, astonished, and he continued,
"There's the small matter of getting the Colonial Board's approval of
our claim against the counter-claim we feel so sure Bogin is coming in
to make."
"Pooh, he hasn't got a chance," Jon said airily.
"You hope," Jak scoffed, suddenly serious and worried.
"How about it, Mr. C.?" Mrs. Carver asked.
"Our pictures and data are so detailed I don't see how Bogin can
possibly match them," her husband answered slowly and thoughtfully. "I
think we can prove our claim. Besides, their receivers there on Terra
should have picked up the broadcasts of our signals, and then the
change--and that should have made them wonder why, so our explanation
ought to satisfy them."
"That reminds me." Jon swung back to his panel. "Let's see if we
can pick up our signals from here ... or Bogin's, rather!" His lips
tightened.
In a few moments his tubes had warmed up, but nothing came in over
his ultra-range receivers. He stepped up the power, and swung his
directional loops forth and back, although mostly he aimed them
directly toward the Carveria system's known coordinates. For long,
anxious minutes he worked, but still no sounds, save the noise of
cosmic rays and the other forces of the void that made long-distance
communication such a problem.
With a weary gesture Jon finally turned off the set, and swung about
with a stricken face. "What do you suppose is wrong, Pop?"
The elder shook his head slowly. "Only thing I can think of is that
we're so far away the senders can't reach this far."
"Won't that be in our favor?" Jak asked. "If they can't hear any
signals at all, our records ought to be enough."
"Maybe yes, maybe no," Mr. Carver answered with a tired smile.
"And after all our hard work, too." Jon's tone was dispirited.
"And the dangers you were up against." Mrs. Carver's eyes were
tear-dimmed.
Their father caught himself and looked at each with a disarming grin.
"Hey, we're all crossing bridges where maybe there isn't even a creek
to be spanned." He made his voice mockingly cheerful. "What's happened
to the good old Carver spirit?"
"You're right, Pop." Jon shook away his dismay and began to smile.
"We're not licked yet."
But while they were eating, a short time later, Jon turned his seat to
face his father.
"Don't like to start worrying again, Pop," he said in a low voice, "but
our receptor is picking up atomic activity behind us again. Of course,"
he added quickly, "this close to Terra it could be some other ship, not
Bogin's."
"Could be, and probably is." His father stroked his chin reflectively.
"I don't see how he could've caught up with us, but we don't know what
his ship can do."
"The guy's tricky and dirty, but he does have a brain and he has some
darned good technies in his crew. He'd know, from his own receptors,
when we started speeding up so fast, and he'd do something to
counteract that, if he could."
"I've heard things like that about him, but I don't know him."
"I do," grimly. "We've had brushes before, when I was in other ships.
He's a skunk and ought to be behind bars--but so far no one has been
able to produce any real evidence of what all spacemen know must be
true."
"If the Board accepts our claim and data against his, won't that be
proof against him?"
"It should be. You can bet your tackle I'll work on that angle. Space
will be cleaner if that hellhound isn't in it."
"You bet, Pop. I hope you sink your hook in him this time."
His father laughed grimly. "It won't be for lack of trying, that's for
danged sure."
15
Jon Carver spoke into the microphone of his ship radio. "Exploration
ship _Star Rover_, Tad Carver owner, Jon Carver pilot, asking
permission to land. We are circling at ten miles up."
A moment's crackling noise from the speaker, then a cheery, feminine
voice, "Centropolitan spaceport. Landing permission granted. What size
is your ship?"
"A seventy-two foot space-yacht."
"Do you need servicing?"
"We will in a day or so, but not at the moment."
"Use cradle forty-three in section D. Land in four minutes."
"Instructions received with thanks. _Star Rover_ off."
Carefully Jon sighted through his visiplate until he located the cradle
marked with a large "43" in the section of the tremendous spaceport
also clearly marked "D." He lowered the ship slowly and gently, keeping
his eyes closely on the chronom and its big sweep-secondhand.
So expert had he become at handling the ship, and so well did his new
automatic technique work, that the ship settled gently into the cradle
dead center ... and only one point three zero seconds off the four
minutes specified.
"Nice handling, Chubby," Jak cheered as they felt the mighty engines
and generators shut off.
"Aw, it was rotten. I was almost a second and a half off in my timing."
"Who cares?" There was a lilt of joy and pure thankfulness in their
mother's voice. "We are back on Earth--home--and all of us are whole.
That's the best part of all."
Her husband looked up from the recline seat where he was still lying,
and winked at his sons. Then he faced his wife. "The eternal mother."
He smiled gently at her, and his voice was soft with emotion. "Happiest
when her brood is safe. And," he added hastily at the look coming into
her eyes, "how thankful mankind is, or should be, that womenfolk have
always had that feeling. Man would never have gone as far as he has if
she hadn't."
Jak soon came in from the other part of the ship. "All our data books,
pictures and specimens are packed and stashed by the inner lockdoor,"
he reported.
Jon jumped from his pilot's seat and started toward the living
quarters. "Let's get our street clothes on, and get going to the
Colonial Board headquarters."
"Yes," Mrs. Carver said eagerly. "After all we've gone through to make
sure we beat that Bogin and his ship back home, let's not waste any
time."
"Well," Mr. Carver's eyes twinkled, "go put on your prettiest frock
and all your war paint, so you can make a good impression on the Board
members."
She krinkled her nose at him, but went in to the bunkroom. Mr. Carver
raised his chair to upright, and began struggling to get up. The two
boys, watching closely, saw how weak he was, and ran to help him. With
his arms across their shoulders, he finally managed to half-walk, half
be carried, into the other room. The boys lowered him into a seat.
"I'll get your clean clothes, and your razor and some hot water," Jak
said.
Jon went back into the control room, and turned on his radio-sender.
"Service, please," he said when the operator came on, and in a moment,
"_Star Rover_, cradle 43, section D. Please have a taxi-hopper here in
thirty minutes, and a wheel chair with it. Thanks."
When the four got outside on the landing platform and Tad Carver saw
the wheel chair he was indignant. "I'm not going to ride in any lousy
perambulator," he grumbled, but the boys were insistent.
Finally his wife came over and put her hand on his arm. "You might
as well give in, Mr. C. Besides, your leg is not strong enough to do
without one--yet."
Still grumbling, he let the boys help him into the wheel chair ... but
they noticed his sigh of relief when he was settled and the weight was
taken off his feet. His body trembled with weakness, in spite of his
efforts to control himself.
The chair, their books and cases were soon loaded into the copter,
then Jon directed, "Colonial Board building, please."
The little ship rose swiftly on her whirling vanes, then streaked
through the clear air toward the center of the great city of
Centropolis, while the four watched the familiar sights of "home" with
eager, happy eyes.
"Look at the trees and flowers," Jak called excitedly, pointing at the
riot of color below. "They're getting green and in full bloom. It's
late spring here, yet it was fall back on Three."
"Different suns, different seasons on the various planets." There was
amusement in his father's voice.
"Sure, you ought to know that," Jon said condescendingly.
"I do know it, you fathead. I was just...."
"Now, Boys," their mother interposed--and the two grinned covertly
at each other. Poor mother never seemed to realize there was no real
animosity behind their bickerings.
It took only a few minutes for the swift taxi-hopper to ferry them from
the spaceport to the roof of the huge Colonial building. Tad Carver
paid the fare, the boys again filled their arms with their books and
cases, and Mrs. Carver pushed the wheel chair to the elevator. They
descended to the Board headquarters' floor.
In the anteroom their father propelled his chair to the receptionist's
desk.
"I'm Tad Carver, owner of the _Star Rover_, just back from a trip.
We wish to present a claim as Prime Discoverers of a new planetary
system."
"Oh, splendid!" The stately brunette's eyes lighted. "Is it a good
one?" she asked as she reached into one of the drawers of her desk for
a sheet of forms.
Mr. Carver smiled. "Five planets and seven moons. Two of the planets
are very Earthlike, and there are lots of metal, wood and many other
worth-while things."
A distant look came into the girl's eyes. "I've never been out in
space. It must be wonderful...." She straightened with determination.
"Please answer these preliminary questions. Then I'll get your
appointment with the Board." Rapidly she put the questions as listed on
her forms, and filled in the vacant places as he answered her.
Finished, she rose, said, "Just a moment, please," and went in through
a side door with the papers in her hand.
Mr. Carver wheeled himself back to his family, who were sitting stiffly
in chairs against the further wall. "Are they going to allow our
claim?" Jon asked nervously. The others leaned forward to hear the
answer.
"Take it easy." Mr. Carver's eyes showed amusement. "The girl has
merely gone in to make an appointment for us. This takes time, you
know. We probably won't have the answer for several days."
"Oh!" It was a trio of disappointment, and they sat back to wait,
glumly, impatiently.
But only a few minutes later they straightened expectantly as they saw
the receptionist coming back. She crossed over to them.
"The Board is at liberty to hear your preliminary claim now," she told
them. "Please follow me."
She led them through the same side door and into a large room beyond.
The four looked eagerly about them, seeing a well-lighted, wood-paneled
office. Across the room was a large, heavy table-desk, behind which
were seated five men.
"Mr. and Mrs. Tad Carver, and their two sons," the girl introduced them
before leaving.
"Please take those chairs." From his seat at the center of the table
the chairman indicated comfortable chairs on the side of the table
opposite him. Jon pushed one aside while Jak propelled the wheel chair
into the vacant space. Then the other three Carvers seated themselves
in adjoining seats.
"I am Robert Wilson, Chairman of the Board. The other members are Phil
Silverman, James Dougherty, Will Irwin, and Sam Reardon." He indicated
in turn the other men at the table. "I see you claim to be the Prime
Discoverers of a new Solar System. That's wonderful! We're expanding
so rapidly, what with the increasing birth rate on Terra and the other
colonized planets, that we already and always need more room. Tell us
more about your find."
"It's a five-planet system with a sun much like Sol, only about a
quarter larger. The coordinates are Right Ascension 17.45, Declination
Minus 11.4, distance about sixty-two light years."
Swiftly Mr. Carver gave the pertinent facts about the habitability of
planets Two and Three, and presented their books of data, and their
cases of photographs.
"How come we haven't received your signals--or didn't you place any?"
Irwin asked.
"We did place them, sir, but we noticed several days ago, coming in,
that we could not hear them with our own receivers. It is my opinion
that the distance is too great for the strength of the senders."
"That's possible," Silverman spoke up. "Your claim is farther away
than any yet presented to us. I happen to know that the signal-senders
furnished by our Board technicians ordinarily have a theoretical range
of not quite fifty light-years."
Mr. Carver half-rose, then settled back and spoke with a level voice,
while his eyes swept from one to the other of the five men.
"I want to report honestly on this case, sirs. Just before we left,
we started back along a course that would take us fairly close to all
our planets and the sun, to make sure our senders were functioning
correctly. We started from Two, where we had just completed marking-out
our city site, went past One and around the sun, planning to make a big
swing to the other planets and so back home. The senders of One, Two
and the sun were working all right, but as we neared Three we heard,
instead of our own, signals stating that the system had been charted
and claimed by Michael Bogin and his...."
"Slik Bogin!" Several of the Board members exclaimed in concert, and
Chairman Wilson added, grimly, "So he's at work again."
Mr. Carver waited until they were silent, then continued, "We think he
either destroyed our senders or substituted his own tapes in ours.
However, we put our sun-signal into an orbit so close to the sun's
surface we doubt if he'll be able to do anything about it. It's only
about ten million miles...."
"Ten million!" Reardon almost yelled the question, and the others sat
upright in excited astonishment, doubt showing in their faces. "How
could you do that?"
"I figured a van Sicklenberg, sir, to give our sender a circular orbit
apexing at ten million miles," Jon Carver explained simply. "We used
the servo-mechs in our lock to throw the sender out when at minimum
distance."
"You?" There was a concerted expression of disbelief and Mr. Reardon
said, witheringly, "Why, you're not a listed astrogator. How could you
compute a ... a what was it you called it?"
"A van Sicklenberg throw-out orbit, sir. I...."
"Never heard of a van Sicklenberg. What is it ... what sort of nonsense
are you talking?"
Jon opened his mouth to reply, but his mother forestalled him. She
rose determinedly. "My Jon is 'only a boy,' gentlemen, but he has also
become an expert pilot and an excellent astrogator, if I do say so
myself. He is also an inventor, and will shortly apply for patents on
a new automatic piloting system--which I don't pretend to understand
anything about, but which I do know from watching its use is far in
advance of anything you now have. You can be sure he knows how to do
such a simple thing as plot an orbit." She sat down, eyes defiant, her
mouth in a straight line.
The men's faces showed astonishment at her words as much as at her
outburst.
"I had been knocked unconscious and my leg was broken," Mr. Carver took
up the explanation, "so I was out of action for a long time. I'm not
fully recovered yet, which is the reason for the discourtesy of this
wheel chair. The two boys had to take over all the work of mapping the
new system. But I have examined their books and pictures, and feel sure
you will find everything in order and complete, and that it will prove
our rights as Prime Discoverers, no matter what Bogin may have to say
when he gets here. He is following us, but we managed to beat him in."
"_Hmmm._" The chairman frowned in thought, then whispered for some
moments to the other men on either side of him. The four Carvers sat
nervously, awaiting the decision of the final arbiters.
Finally Chairman Wilson addressed them directly. "You can well
understand that we will have to make a rather more thorough examination
than usual in this case, Mr. Carver, and that we will have to wait
a few days to see whether or not Michael Bogin is going to make a
counter-claim. Knowing you got here first, he may decide not to do so.
Where are you located, so we can get in touch with you later?"
"We came directly from our ship, sir, so do not have an address as yet.
However, as soon as we have found a place, I'll call your secretary and
leave our address and visiphone number."
"You do that, please." Then, as the Carvers rose to depart, Chairman
Wilson halted them, his voice kindly, yet grim. "This is a peculiar
case, Carver, as you can well understand. We know the reputation of
Bogin, but we also know he has never been found guilty of any of the
things rumor claims he has done. We Board members try always to be fair
and honest in these matters, and you can feel certain and confident you
and your claims will be given careful consideration. We will get in
touch with you in a few days."
"Thank you, Gentlemen. I'm content to rest my claim in your hands."
The four bowed, then left the office and the building.
"What do you think, Father?" Jak asked anxiously as they were riding
a ground-cab whose driver had been instructed to find them a good
apartment hotel.
"I don't know," Mr. Carver added a weary smile. "It's all in the
future, and I'm not a seer. However, I'm sure we'll get an honest and
unbiased hearing and decision, and I'm equally positive we have the
better claim. So let's forget it until we're notified to appear, and
enjoy our return to Terra."
"Mr. C.'s right, Boys," their mother agreed. "We've done our best, and
thanks to you boys, it's a very fine best. Now we must wait, but not
worry."
Their cabby found them a nice place where there was a vacancy, and soon
the four were unpacking their gear and getting settled in their new
home. Mr. Carver visiphoned at once to give the new address and phone
number to the Board's receptionist.
Then the Carvers settled down to wait, with as much patience as they
could muster, for the call.
Jak insisted on having a good doctor called at once. The latter made a
thorough examination. He had Mr. Carver taken to an X-Ray laboratory,
where it was determined that the broken leg had been perfectly set, and
was now practically healed, although it would be some time before the
strength returned to it. He also prescribed a course of medications to
bring back the invalid's full health and vigor.
The call came from the Board three days later, in the middle of a
morning when, fortunately, the four Carvers were all in the apartment.
They hurried down to the street, where they flagged a ground-cab and
were driven swiftly to the Colonial building. The same brunette girl
ushered them at once into the Board room.
Inside, they found the complete Board in session, and in chairs
opposite them sat Slik Bogin and his chief lieutenant, who glared at
the Carvers sullenly as they entered. Hardly were the four seated when
Bogin sprang to his feet.
"What's the big idea, Carver," he almost yelled, "trying to claim our
discovery? You've got a crust, trying something...."
"Sit down, Mr. Bogin, and keep quiet," Chairman Wilson spoke in a low
but commanding voice. "We're here to judge the facts as presented, not
to indulge in charges, countercharges and vituperation. Now, the Board
has examined minutely both sets of claims. Both parties have presented
all the data required by us, and these have been studied by each of
us individually. Dougherty," he turned to one of the Board members,
"please review the data sheets for us."
A tall, serious-faced man rose, and arranged the two sets of sheets
before him.
"According to the Carver claim, as presented here," he gestured toward
one set of books, "they arrived at the system and made their first
landing on Planet Two on January 14th of this year, 2136. The Bogin
claim is that they first discovered the system and landed on Planet
Three on January tenth, also of the year 2136. Both parties claim they
set out the required signal-senders, although neither have been heard
by our listening posts here. However, we know that signals from these
senders cannot, ordinarily, be read at distances in excess of fifty
light-years, and the system under consideration is said to be over
sixty. We have asked the communications department to check with ships
and planets nearer the system in question, to learn whether or not any
signals from it have been received."
He paused a moment and looked at his fellow members first, then at
the expectant six across the table. "I said that both parties have
presented complete data. However, it seems to us, after careful
scrutiny, that one set of data was obtained from the air and from the
surface of three of the five planets, and from a height of less than
twenty miles above the seven moons, and less than five from the other
two planets, as our regulations specify. The other books clearly show
that the observations were all taken from above the surface."
There was relief on the faces of the four Carvers, nervous side glances
between Bogin and his henchman, none of which escaped the sharp eyes
of the five Board members, watching closely the reactions of the two
opposing parties.
"We have here the two sets of photographs, taken from a height of five
miles as specified by our rulings, of the townsite that we require
to be laid out." He held one set out to each party across the table.
"Please examine them and let us know if you see any differences."
There was silence for several long, anxious moments, then after the two
groups had studied the photographs handed them, Jon Carver suddenly let
out a gasp, and looked up eagerly.
"May I speak, sirs?"
"You may."
"This is not the picture we took," indicating one. "If you will compare
the two, you will find that this one was taken before the work was
fully completed. See, there is a gap here along the east side where not
all the stakes are in."
"Oh," his mother looked up quickly, and took up the story. "Then I was
right, that time. I did hear a ship. You see, sirs," she addressed
the Board members more directly, "the boys ran out of stakes and had
to go to the forest there some miles to the northwest of the ship to
cut more. Look, you can see just the edge of our ship right here on
the margin. While they were gone, I thought I heard a ship passing
over ours, but when I got to the control room and could look through
a plate, either it had gone out of sight or I was mistaken. The boys
said, when asked after they got back, that they had neither heard nor
seen it--they were in the woods at the time. But I believe now that I
did hear a ship, that it was Mr. Bogin's, and that he took this picture
at that time. It took the boys nearly a day and a half longer to
complete their work, and not until after that was our picture taken."
The Board chairman smiled at her, then turned a severe face toward
Bogin and his lieutenant. "That is exactly what the pictures show--that
one is complete and the other is not. What have you to say about that?"
The man's face was black with fury. "I say they're liars," he shouted.
"This one here," shaking the photograph he held, "is our picture. That
one is theirs."
Mr. Carver started to rise, but Jak was before him, and it was the
latter whose voice cut through the din. "Oh, no, and I can prove
which is our picture, if you will examine all the rest. I did all the
developing and printing, and you'll find a small 'C' down in the lower
right-hand corner of all our pictures. I marked all our negatives that
way, as you can determine if you'll send someone to our ship to get the
negatives from the darkroom."
The Board members huddled over the sheaves of pictures for a moment,
then turned severely toward Bogin. "The young man is correct. All the
Carver pictures are so marked, and so is this one of the completed
townsite."
Jon Carver broke in. "Ask them to describe the animal life they found
on Planet Three," he suggested.
"Well?" the Chairman looked levelly at Bogin.
"Why ... why...." The latter was quite taken aback by this sudden
challenge. "Why, there are several species ... and ... and they were
more or less like ours here, although not exactly like them, of course."
"Ha, that proves he was never on the ground there," Jon cried out in
triumph. "We found, and so will anyone else you care to send there,
that while Planet Three has a lot of vegetation and is perfectly
habitable--though cold--there is absolutely no protoplasmic life to
be found there. At least," he added honestly, "on any of the surface
we covered, and our ship's log will show, as you can see there, that
we flew at less than five miles up for eight complete but spiral
revolutions about the planet, and were on the ground in several places,
which we explored and photographed thoroughly."
"The young man is right," Mr. Silverman spoke up. "I noticed that
fact mentioned in their records, and intended asking more about
it, because this is the first planet of which I've heard, that is
otherwise completely habitable by mankind, where such a condition has
obtained--where there is voluminous floral life but no protoplasmic
life of any kind. Being something of a botanist, that fact struck me at
once."
Bogin rose, sneering, but also feeling safe in this part of his claim.
"Bah! They just didn't happen to sit down in the same places we did ...
if they were there at all. We saw lots of animal life there."
"And you took pictures of such life?" Mr. Carver asked pointedly.
"Why, no, it isn't required."
There was a discreet rap on the door, and when the chairman gave
permission, the receptionist entered and handed him a sheet of paper.
He examined it quickly, then passed it to his fellow members. The five
conferred together in quick whispers for several minutes--while Bogin
and his man glared in sullen anger at the Carvers.
Four of the Board members finally resumed their seats, while Chairman
Wilson stood at his place. He pressed a buzzer, then took up his gavel.
He struck three loud, solemn notes with it.
"It is the considered opinion of the Terran Colonial Board, here
assembled in official meeting," he intoned, "that Tad Carver has
proven his claim as Prime Discoverer of the Solar System henceforth
to be known as 'Carveria,' and this decision shall be so entered in
our records as of this date. Congratulations," he added, smiling as he
turned to the happy four, who were attempting the almost impossible
task of each hugging all the others at the same time.
Bogin and his lieutenant rose wrathfully and started to leave the room.
"Just a moment, Bogin," Chairman Wilson said authoritatively. "You are
under arrest for an illegal attempt to defraud by false testimony."
Bogin, eyes blazing, suddenly seemed to go berserk. He drew a blaster
from an underarm holster, and waved it about as he and his man backed
toward the door. "You ain't gonna arrest nobody. We're leaving
here--and we cinder the first one of you that moves."
But, unseen by them, the door behind had opened and three space
marines, guns in hand, had entered in response to the chairman's buzzed
call.
"Drop that gun, Mister," their leader said sharply, his own muzzle
pushed against Bogin's back. The latter, face livid, did so. In moments
the two pirates were handcuffed. The sergeant saluted the Board
members. "Guards will be sent to the spaceport at once to arrest the
other members of the Bogin crew, sir, pending examination and trial."
"Thank you, Sergeant. We will prefer charges at once."
As the marines started leading the two away, Bogin pulled back
suddenly, and faced Mr. Carver.
"One thing I'd like to know. We were catching up with you, fast, and
all of a sudden you pulled away from us as though we was standing
still, yet we were all in slings, and doing three and a half G's. How'd
you do it?"
Mr. Carver smiled lazily. "We're submitting a full report to _The Space
Pilot's Gazette_. You can read it there--if they let you read where
you're going."
He turned back to the Board members and again expressed the thanks of
himself and his family.
Chairman Wilson held out a sheet of paper. "You may be interested in
this report. It came from the Communications Center on Petrarch Three,
and was the deciding factor in your case."
The four clustered close to read:
"Carver signals heard first, then ceased one by one and the Bogin
signals began, although one Carver signal, the solar one, is still
heard."
Mr. Carver turned to the Board members and said, "Like most crooks,
Bogin was yellow. He didn't have nerve enough to run in as close to
the sun as these youngsters of mine did, and so couldn't change their
signal there. The boys are great planet mappers--both of them."
* * * * *