by Earl
“Any special orders, Captain?”
“No, no,” returned Willoby. “Usual routine—three watches, turn about. Three men at controls. One man at meteor deflector. Regular engine crew. Oxygen inspection every hour, etc. However, I want three men at the radio—Venus, Mars and Earth connection at all times. The information we pick up is too important to risk missing.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“By the way, Jones,” said the captain, dropping formality, “how do you feel about this whole thing?” There was curiosity in his voice, and friendliness.
The first officer unconsciously relaxed at the comradeship offered in his superior’s tones, and a radiant glow lit up his face.
“Grand, Captain! I feel that this is a great honor for all of us, and I for one was overjoyed when my application was accepted. I’ve been to Mars, sir, and to Venus, dozens of times; but believe me, this is altogether different. There’s a sort of—of”—he groped for words—“adventurous thrill! Like going to another star.” The captain nodded. Involuntarily their eyes swung to the lee port where in the blackness of the airless void a long sweeping cone of shimmering light with a dazzling apex hurtled among the calm stars. Eight centuries ago Dr. Halley had plotted the elliptical orbit of the comet that bore his name. Little did he realize then that posterity would eventually reach it in a space vehicle, to examine it at first hand!
Captain Willoby and his daring crew, commissioned by the Earth Federation, were soaring out with drumming rockets to meet the comet which every 76 years since time immemorial had careered past Earth, a constant challenge to humanity’s thirst for knowledge.
ALTHOUGH space ships had been plying between the inner planets for two centuries, and though ships had returned from distant Saturn safely, the attempt had never been made to fly to a comet. The ship Discovery would be the first in that pioneering move. Needless to say, a world was breathless behind them, waiting for its sons to radio back what they would find.
As First Officer Jones left the captain’s office to transmit his orders, Oberton, the course-plotter, entered.
“I have made the final checks, Captain, and the course is down on this chart. Barring accidents, it should be easy. The comet is coming at a gradually increasing speed as it is nearing perihelion. It will pass the orbit of Mars at its own elevation from the ecliptic in an hour. Our ship, following this course, will draw into the fringes of its tail, five million miles back of the head, three days from now. Then it is simply a matter of increasing speed and drawing up into the tail.
“At the prescribed rate previously agreed upon, we will catch up and reach the nucleus before the orbit of Venus is reached. Beyond that it would be dangerous to follow the comet as the sun’s heat becomes intolerable and the speed of the comet accelerates too rapidly to allow us to duplicate it without danger.”
Willoby nodded, looked over the course-chart for a few minutes, and then okayed it with instructions to have it made in triplicate and put before the triplicate control boards in the pilot room.
At the end of the second day Captain Willoby called the scientists together in the ship’s observatory, a dozen earnest and eminent savants of Earth. Looking from one to the other of their eager faces, he spoke:
“Gentlemen, in ten hours our ship will draw into the tail of the comet, five million miles behind the nucleus. As per your request, my crew will pull the ship up into the tail, gradually approaching the nucleus, which we will reach a week later. In that week you gentlemen must do all your testing and observing. My radio operators stand ready to transmit your data as soon as it is made. In this you must be prompt because—” he paused but one of the scientists finished calmly: “Because we may not live to carry the information back to Earth in person!”
“Exactly,” nodded the captain. “We understand one another thoroughly. Now mind, I am not predicting disaster. We ought to come through it without the slightest danger. But because of the mere fact that so little is actually known about a comet, we simply do not know what will happen when we draw our ship up into the tail and crawl toward the nucleus.”
“Rest assured,” spoke one of the scientists gravely, “that we understand our position thoroughly. If we are to die, so be it.”
Such was the spirit that drew the Discovery into the comet’s tail, when its navigators could not know but what any moment some unforeseen, inexplicable destruction might engulf them. As they became surrounded by the ghostly luminosity of the tenuous tail, the scientists went furiously to work. Every few minutes they pumped in gas samples, and while part of their number analyzed the material chemically and electrically, the rest made all sorts of intricate tests with spectroscopes, electroscopes, and various meters.
THE, skilled radio operators sent out continuous data, three separate lines of communication on different wave bands, to make certain that none of it would dissipate into the void of space. No ill or strange effects were noticed while the ship was enveloped in the tail, and the captain bored the ship ahead steadily.
For a long week the routine went on, while the scientists became excited over some of the new things discovered about the comet’s tail. Gradually the gases became denser, although never did they approach the thickness of even a man-made vacuum tube’s contents! Looking out of the ports, First Officer Jones could see the reaches of space as clearly as though they were in the absolute void, except that there: was the faintest indication of fogginess on the glass.
Finally the nucleus of the comet drew near. Excitement reigned aboard. What had long been suspected, but never proved, was now seen to be unquestionable fact—the comet’s head had a kernel of solid matter about ten miles in diameter! An hour later, after considerable discussion pro and con, Captain Willoby finally yielded to the scientists’ pleadings, and maneuvered for a landing!
“But Captain!” First Officer Jones had said upon hearing the decision from his superior’s own lips, “Isn’t it dangerous? It looks from here that the solid lump of matter which cosmoses the nucleus is very hot, perhaps molten. Surely the outside hull will gradually weaken—”
“I guess not, Jones,” returned the captain. “The scientists tell me, and swear it up and down by all the gods, that themucleus merely looks hot, but that it is really a sort of ‘cold fire’ that won’t affect our hull at all. I’m going to chance it, Jones, because I think it’s a shame to get this far and then turn back, without landing. Think of it—we will be the first human beings to land on a comet’s nucleus!”
Manned by a crew somewhat nervous because of the fearsome appearance of the glowing, fiery ball below them, the Discovery blasted its nose rockets powerfully, slid around the tiny lump of matter for three revolutions, and then plumped to the “ground” with a slight jar.
In the laboratories, twelve earnest scientists, hollow-eyed from lack of sleep but imbued with exultant spirit, silently set to work on their endless and intricate tests. The radio operators flashed the thrilling word to civilization—“We have landed on the comet’s nucleus. It is solid. Stand by for data!”
Finally one of the scientists came stumbling into the captain’s office where Willoby and Jones had been gazing out of the port and talking over the sensation of being on a comet.
“Captain!” the savant gasped. “Space-suits! There is no reason under the sun why we shouldn’t step out there in space-suits!”
Captain Willoby started. That was a little more than he had bargained for.
“Are you sure it will be safe? Don’t forget a space-suit is not as good protection as five beryllium hulls. Are you certain no dangerous radiations or rays will stab through the fabric of the suits and—”
A SCIENTIST broke in. “God, Captain!” he cried. “You don’t think we’d suggest it without first making tests? Unless bur instruments are all wrong, there is nothing out there beyond the five hulls that cart harm a man in a space-suit. And as for the advantage of it—God, some of my colleagues say there is actually some sort of plant life out there! Quick! Space-suits
! This is the greatest thing in all history! Space-suits, Cap—”
The scientist suddenly slumped to the floor. Jones picked him up, alarmed, but there was no concern in Willoby’s face.
“Nothing serious, Jones. That fellow fainted from pure lack of sleep. He and the rest of those men—I can’t help but admire them—are driving their tired bodies to the limit to get the most out of this. Take him to the doctor, Jones, and then report back here.”
When First Officer Jones returned, the captain looked him over musingly.
“Jones, I like you. I’m going to give you a chance to go down in history—if you have the nerve!”
“I’ve got tons of it!” returned Jones, drawing up.
“Well, it’s like this,” went on the captain. “I can’t let those scientists step out onto the ground out there in a space-suit without first having somebody precede them to see whether it’s safe. I can’t do it myself because of the Cosmicon rules that a captain must stay with his ship under all extraordinary circumstances. So if you, Jones—”
“Right, sir. I’ll go right away.”
“Good,” nodded the captain. “Go out there by the front lock, and stay out for three hours. Don’t wander more than a few hundred feet from the ship and—and watch yourself, my boy,” he added tenderly. “Best of luck!”
A clumsy figure in a puffed out space-suit stepped from the air-lock of the Discovery and leaped lightly to the spongy ground. With a hundred envious eyes watching him, he strode forward among the queer knobs and tuft formations of the cometary landscape. The intense radiance surrounding him seemed like a licking flame about to consume him. Yet he did not falter as he walked around the ship in ever widening circles.
Once he stopped and picked up, after several trials with his stiff gauntlets, a flexible stalk of some strange, unearthly plant growth, and waved it aloft so that those in the ship might see. The scientists caught their breath and conversed excitedly, eager to go outside themselves. But the captain was adamant—only after Jones had survived three hours and come in unharmed would he let them sally out.
First Officer Jones felt like a god as he walked over the spongy surface of the comet’s nucleus. And well he might, being the first man ever to tread the unearthly land of a comet that passes. . . .
VIA ETHERLINE
Storage Is This Chronicle of Man’s First Expedition to an Alien Planet!
FORTY-NINTH day.
We’re on Mars! Landed an hour ago. Mars Expedition Number One transmitting to Earth via Mars etherline. Radio operator Gillway speaking, as usual.
Quite a jolt, the landing. Hull dented but intact. Greaves was knocked unconscious against a wall, but had no bones broken. No equipment damaged.
Here are the details. Cruishank, ballistic expert, plotted the course accurately and we swept past the surface at three miles a second. Then the ship swung, in the grip of Martian gravity, and took up a course as a satellite in the upper fringes of the atmosphere. Cruishank cut the speed, causing the ship to drop gradually, and Captain Atwell pointed out a barren desert as the safest landing field.
The ship lowered nicely and plowed into the sand rather violently, but not worse than expected.
We all have had enough of the monotony of space with—as Markers put it—its appalling emptiness, frightful blackness and dismal dimensions of eternal depth. We’re glad it’s behind us—that six-week trip through nothingness.
It is sunset now and in the night Greaves, our chemist, will test the air. Tomorrow morning, if all is well, we will step out on Mars.
Mars Expedition signing off until tomorrow. Fifteen minutes of daily operation, with the tremendous power needed to bridge these millions of miles to Earth, is all our radio batteries can stand.
Regards to the world we have left.
FIFTIETH day.
Captain Atwell, by unanimous vote, was elected to have the honor of first treading Martian soil. Greaves announced the air chemically fit for our lungs but too rarefied for comfort, so we are using the air-helmets on this planet. Captain Atwell left the air-lock alone and stuck the small flagpole into the coarse, ruddy sand, bearing the flag of our native world. Then the rest of us followed him.
Gravity, of course, is ridiculously slight. Swinerton, tall and jerky in manner, overdid his first step outside the ship and executed an incomplete and amusing somersault. The air is cold, being twenty-four degrees below zero Centigrade at high noon. We sally out only in heavy clothing.
Yes, it’s queer enough, this Mars. No sign of snow or clouds, nor any of water unless that depression a mile or so away holds some. The cold drove us in quickly. Tomorrow we will discuss a course of action.
* * * * *
Fifty-first day.
Somewhat warmer today, but still below freezing. We are in the southern hemisphere very near the equator of Mars.
Several of the men are eager to get at their pursuits. Swinerton and Dordeaux wish to explore the forest. Parletti, geologist extraordinary, has his pick and shovel out. Alado wants to set up the selenium generators.
Captain Atwell, Cruishank and Markers discussed the matter carefully and decided first to make our habitat more convenient. Beginning tomorrow we will dig out the nose of the ship and move it as close to the pool of water as possible. We plan to establish a headquarters there, as water is our main necessity.
No fauna discovered yet. We saw both moons of this planet last night. There is no way to describe the sensation of seeing two of them, one, Phobos, streaking across the sky like a rocket in the opposite direction of the stars and sun.
All of us are armed with pistols and knives, and Captain Atwell carries a rifle. He will take no chances in this alien environment.
* * * * *
Fifty-second day.
We began working on our new plan today. First we dug out the nose of the ship. Quite a job even though we struck only loose sand as far down as we went. We were all able to work continuously for twelve hours because of the light gravity. Then we had to devise a way to move the ship, which weighs plenty even here on Mars.
Alado and Markers—they make a splendid team—worked out a scheme and started to set up the apparatus before night came. More on that tomorrow.
Saw our first definite signs of animal life today. Swinerton is excited. High above our ship at noon today we saw a bird, or birdlike creature, with an enormous wing spread. It circled around above us in utter silence. Swinerton spent an hour observing it with binoculars, and reports it as feathered. It has a hooked beak, like an eagle’s, and strangely, no legs. Apparently it spends its life in the air. We thought that the thin air should discourage flying, but Swinerton put forth the weak gravity as an explanation.
It is night now and the interior of the ship is warm and cozy. Out sunpower unit works at about half capacity with the amount of sunlight we get during the day, but it is more than enough to recharge the batteries.
Jupiter is low on the horizon and startlingly bright. In fact, we can make out his disc. And Greaves, who has sharp eyes, claims he has caught glimpses of three of the moons without binoculars. With the glasses we can easily distinguish seven moons.
Earth, naturally, is not in the Martian sky at present, so the last we saw of it was the day before we landed. In about a month, however, Earth will be an early evening star.
Our morale is high. The Martian environment is not any more rigorous than the arctics of Earth, with the one exception of breathable air, but our helmets take care of that.
FIFTY-THIRD day.
We moved the ship halfway to the pool today. We did it by using the long beryllium-alloy bars on which sunpower mirror rests. First we pounded them into the ground, making a firm anchorage. Then Alado set up two seleno-cells—in this constant sunlight they generate surprising power—and supplied their current to the motor that formerly ran our ship’s gyroscope. Then, using pulleys and steel cables attached to the nose rockets, the motor dragged the ship forward over the rolling sand.
Lord kno
ws it would never work on ordinary ground, but with this drifty sand, it was easy. We were able to move the ship twenty-five yards at a time this way before uprooting the poles and placing them further toward the pool. By tomorrow we’ll reach the water.
Temperature today is considerably warmer—just about freezing. All day there were a number of those widewinged birds hovering above us. I hate to say it, but they remind me of vultures. Bordeaux just asked Tor some music. Can you give us some?
* * * * *
Fifty-fourth day.
Reached the pool all right. Our sunpower unit is broken up, so we are charging our batteries with the seleno-cells temporarily.
We had a surprise today. A sort of “heat wave” seems to have swept down upon us. The temperature was ten above zero. Captain Atwell, fearing that the heat will keep up and melt the lumps of ice in the pool—which, on Mars as well as Earth, must be pure water since saline solutions rarely freeze—ordered all of us to fill the water reservoirs. This we did and we have a large supply now.
This evening. Captain Atwell called a general council. For our continued existence, we need two important things which it was impossible to take along from Earth: water, which, however, is a small worry at present; and oxygen, which is running low rapidly because of the constant use of the helmets. Food, of course, we are stocked with for two years. That will easily last until next opposition, as was planned. We have plenty of fuel for the return trip.
The water question will not be seriously considered for a while, but the oxygen can’t be neglected. Alado and Greaves are going to work on that problem. Either chemically or electrically, we must have that gas of life.
Markers set up the four-inch telescope this evening and we all took looks at Jupiter and his moons. Saturn is an early morning star but only Markers is staying up to see it. The rest of us will wait until it becomes an evening star.
Bordeaux innocently asked to see the larger moon, Phobos, through the telescope. Markers looked at him witheringly, then invited him to train the tube on it. The way the ship is turned at present, Phobos crosses the left front port only once in seven hours and plunges by in half a minute across the width of the window. So Bordeaux pointed the tube and waited.
