The Secret of Saturn’s Rings

by Donald A. Wollheim

  “Well, here is a robot machine that must have been operating on some such battery—and it has finally run down! Do you realize all the millions of years that this watchman-machine has been standing in this underground museum motionless, waiting for an intruder? And when one finally comes, we two, it has just enough power left to start up, chase us a bit, and finally exhaust its charge entirely and die!”

  Bruce nodded to himself. It was something awesome when you looked at it that way. “Why is everything in tills part of the cavern so well preserved compared to outside?” he asked.

  His father replied slowly, “I wish I knew. There was some sort of gas that rushed out when we broke the seal on this section. It must have had some effect in delaying the aging of metal. I wish we had been able to capture some of that gas—would have been a big discovery itself.”

  “Yes, if we could ever bring any of this knowledge home, Dad,” Bruce replied. “Let’s look around so we can write down everything we see for whoever finds us—or our bodies.” He shuddered as he said the last, but he was determined to carry on.

  “Yes,” his father said. “For instance, what’s this end thing? I think we passed some big construction machines, some sort of land-buses, and so forth, but this one at the end we haven’t seen.”

  They turned their backs on the lifeless robot and looked at the huge device that filled the end of the cavern, which was the last thing in the great underground storehouse of the last survivors of Mimas.

  They turned their lights on it and saw a huge metal and plastic rack, stretching from one wall to the other. Something gleaming and golden was mounted on that rack, way over their heads. Bruce looked up, saw a little platform up there. His weight on Mimas being so slight, he knew he could jump up to it Obtaining his father’s consent, he bent his knees and leaped.

  He caught the edge of the platform easily and found himself standing beside a circular doorway set in a huge metal cylindrical thing that towered up to the top of the cavern and whose base was sunk deep in the framework of the supporting rack. A wild notion struck Bruce as he caught the outlines of the thing. He reached out, pushed on the doorlike disk. After a few prods, it swung aside. Inside the cylinder he caught a glimpse of spidery runways, of beams and tubes, and he called excitedly to his father, “It looks like a space ship!”

  “What!” In the next moment Dr. Rhodes had jumped up and the two of them were pushing inside the strange construction and examining it.

  There was no doubt about it. They had found a space ship of the ancient men of Saturn’s lost moon, standing as the last and final exhibit in their civilization’s tomb. As they made their way excitedly around the inside of the great craft, they noticed the differences and the similarities to the ships of Earth.

  For one thing, this craft seemed to lack any division into rooms or sections. The crew evidently walked along weird beams and trapezes around a hollow interior. Fully exposed to view were the rocket tubes, the fuel tanks mounted to the framework, the mixing chambers. Up at the head of the ship, a set of trapezes were suspended before a series of rods and handles that were obviously the controls. Other strange racks and spaces were about them, whose purpose defied their guesses.

  “What kind of creatures were these, anyway?” Bruce remarked as he jumped lightly from catwalk to beam to gaze out of what had once been a porthole but was now a hollow hole in the surface, whose transparent substance had probably vanished into dust and gas an eternity ago.

  “I would hate to speculate on it,” said his father, who was studying the rocket tubes in the rear. “I get the odd feeling that they combined the qualities of monkeys with those of spiders—with maybe a suggestion of something shelled as well. They built their robot with tentacles rather than hands, and it didn’t move on legs or wheels, but rather on rollers. No human culture would probably build in that fashion. But, Bruce, you should look at these rocket tubes, they’re absolutely amazing!”

  “How’s that?” said Bruce making his way back to the lower end.

  “These tubes are still in perfect condition . . . because they are diamond! Look,” his father pointed along the outline of the huge blasting rockets, “these are actually cast of one single diamond—a perfect substance for rocket tubes!”

  “Where would they get diamonds that large?” Bruce asked, running his hand over the glassy-smooth surface of the glistening white crystalline tube.

  “Easy,” his father said. “With atomic furnaces, they could make them under intense sun-hot heat and extreme pressure. All they would have to do would be to make soft carbon molds and turn them to diamond in these super-furnaces. In fact, I bet we could do it on Earth too, if we set up the proper atomic fires!” Now Bruce thought of the meaning of this ship. “Do you suppose we could make this ship run? Could we use it to go home in? You said the tubes are intact.” His father hesitated, and said slowly, Tm afraid not. I admit the ship looks to be in good condition, the diamond rockets are perfect, and what I can make out of the rest of the ship is in good shape—although it is no longer airtight. But what would we use for fuel? We have none, and this ship has none, and any store of fuel the Mimas-men left would long ago have lost its power. If we could get fuel, I think I could make it run . . . but . .

  Bruce followed his father as they made their way to the entry disk. Leaving the ship, Bruce tried to slide the disk shut again. He shoved it hard, and suddenly the disk slipped, cracked on its fasteners and fell off.

  ‘That’s something else,” Dr. Rhodes said. “This ship’s metal parts are old and ‘tired.’ I don’t know how long it would hold up under strain.”

  As Bruce followed his father down, another thought struck him. “You know, Dad,” he said, “this ship looked like gold. It has a gold tinge.”

  They started to make their way to examine the other devices in the huge cavern. “I thought so too,” his father said. “In fact, it might have some gold in its alloy. Gold is a soft and rather heavy metal to make such a ship out of, but on a world as light as this, and if gold has no particular value, it might be added to an alloy to prevent rusting. It could well be.”

  They started to stare at the thing that resembled a land-crawler. “Gee, Dad, think of how they would stare if we could go home in a gold space ship with diamond jets!” Bruce chuckled.

  “As long as we can laugh, we’ve got hope,” his dad answered.

  They started to look into the interior of the big roller-resting thing, noting again the lack of seats or flooring, only a webwork of beams and wires inside.

  Suddenly there was a vibration in the cavern. Everything about them shook and rattled. There was a series of thuds and shocks that came to them through their space suits, from the ground and walls.

  “An earthquake!” cried Bruce, climbing out of the contraption onto the ground of the cavern.

  “We’d better get out of here and up to the surface,” his father said, starting for the far entranceway.

  Rapidly they made their way through the darkness of the underground storehouse, crossing the floor in long, low leaps, their belt lights flickering eerily on the odd shapes around them.

  Through the torn seal on the end of the far cavern, and down past the shapeless coffins and displays for the dead, they moved rapidly and silently. They found the doorway to the outer corridor and made their way along it to where they could see the yellow glow of the Saturn-light shining down the pit beneath the sentinel-tower.

  At the bottom, the rope was still there. Bruce went first, and they made their way hand over hand up the rope.

  As Bruce reached the top, he poked his head over the edge of the pit, about to swing his foot up and go over to the surface. As his head emerged from the hole, he looked outward—straight into the muzzle of a machine-pistol held in the gloved hand of a crouching space-suited figure.

  For a moment he stared in amazement, unable to believe his eyes.

  His father brushed against his foot. "Come on,” he said impatiently. "What’s keeping you?”
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  "Take it easy, Dr. Rhodes,” said a voice in their helmets. "You’ve got all the time in the universe. You’re not going anywhere!”

  Bruce recognized the voice and the face in the space helmet at the same time. It was Kurt Jennings.

  CHAPTER 19 In Terraluna's Grip

  Jennings reached an arm in, grabbed Bruce and heaved him out of the pit. He reached in for Dr. Rhodes next.

  “Come on, Doc. You may have all the time in the universe as I said, but I don’t, so up you come.” Another heave and the engineer joined his son. Another space-suited figure stood a short distance away, holding a weapon pointing their way. Bruce stared at this other man a minute, not recognizing him, until the man spoke sharply:

  “Come on, Kurt, don’t waste any more time on these chumps. Find out what we got to and let’s get moving!” Bruce recognized the voice of Waldron, the space-hand who had originally tried to sabotage their ship back on Earth before the take-off. His father evidently recognized him also.

  “You’re a nice pair of renegades. Pretending you didn’t believe in the Saturn trip’s possibility, trying to destroy our work, and now, here you are. A pair of sneaks and liars, and traitors to humanity to boot!” Dr. Rhodes was angry.

  “Aw, shut up!” snarled Waldron. “Or I'll shut you up now with this gun!”

  Jennings turned to his companion. “Take it easy, Jack. Let the old boy rave. He doesn’t have much more time left for it!” The renegade pilot turned to them and said, “We’d better all go back to our ship; I want to ask you a few questions.”

  He pointed. Following his linger, Bruce saw that a long sleek craft, as big and even better looking than the one the UN had lent his father, was standing on its runners a few hundred feet away. They started over to it, Kurt leading the way and Waldron following behind, his pistol in readiness.

  “Where’d you get the ship, Jennings?” his father asked, his voice now quiet and restrained.

  “Terraluna’s latest and best,” said Jennings. “They sent it out fast after you escaped our moon base. They figured to pick up your remains on Hidalgo, but arrived in time to pick me up from that smelly little tent you left me in.”

  “You got here fast,” said Bruce, thinking of something that had struck him as a possibility.

  “Sure did. We had only two in the crew instead of four, larger fuel tanks and less spare space. Besides, we refueled completely at Achilles.” By this time they had reached the entry port of the Terraluna ship, and climbed silently inside the airlock.

  There were no further words as the pressure was built up, and they all entered the little cramped quarters in the nose of the ship. For the first time in several days, Bruce and his father were able to take off their space suits and get a breath of real air under real Earth pressure.

  The corporation’s ship was obviously built for distance travel. It was crowded when four people were forced to occupy the nose chamber. Especially when two of them were forced to sit side by side on a narrow bench under the constant menace of the weapons held by the other two.

  Waldron looked at them sneeringly. “What’ll we do with them, Kurt?” he asked. “Can’t take ’em with us.

  Jennings looked at his comrade. “No, but if they answer a few questions, we may be able to lend them enough supplies and air to keep safe until we can return or get them a pickup.” Bruce caught the look that passed between the two. He knew this was a falsehood.

  Jennings turned to them. “Where’s the ship? Where’d Garcia and Benz go?”

  Dr. Rhodes looked at them a moment; then, ignoring the questions, asked, “Aren’t you at all interested in what we’ve found out about the rings of Saturn? That is much more important to all of us, to you two also.”

  Kurt shrugged. “Frankly, I don’t care what you imagine you’ve found. My bosses only want you to keep your nose out of their mining business until they can get their new operation started. Jack and I are satisfied that Saturn’s rings have nothing to do with the matter.”

  “Yeah,” broke in Waldron, “all that stuff is a lot of nonsense. Where’s your pals hiding? They coming back to pick you up?”

  Bruce wondered what would be the best reply to that. His father remained silent.

  Waldron got to his feet, his face reddening. “Answer us! If you want to live, better open your traps and talk!”

  Jennings looked a little pained at Waldron’s manner, but Bruce noticed that he did not rebuke him.

  Dr. Rhodes spoke up slowly, “It won’t do you any good to ask us. Neither my son nor I have any intention of telling you. But we are both quite willing to tell you that our discoveries on the rings confirmed my theories. Go back and tell your bosses that. Tell them—”

  “Shut up!” Waldron interrupted him savagely. “We ain’t going to tell them a thing! We’ll tell them you’re dead and collect our dough and that’s all!”

  “Take it easy, Jack.” Jennings shook his head and tried to smile at the Rhodeses as if to share their feelings at his companion’s crude ways. He spoke again directly to Bruce:

  “You know I like you, Bruce, and I have the greatest respect for your father. I’m very interested in what you have discovered and I’m sure it’s very fascinating, but right now, if you’ll just tell us where we can find your ship, we’ll be glad to take back any message you want to send to Terraluna.”

  Bruce looked at him coldly, shook his head. “No, you don’t care a fig what we’ve found and you don’t have any intention of telling Terraluna anything but what they want to hear. Waldron is more honest than you. All he wants—and all you really want—is your ‘dough.’ ”

  “Bruce is right,” said Dr. Rhodes. “If you could find our ship, you’d try to destroy it. But you can rely definitely on Garcia informing the UN of your acts. That’s why you want to know where they are, but you’ll never find out from us. Never!”

  Jennings stood up, scowled. “O.K., if that’s the way you want it, that’s it. My guess is that they’ve marooned you, gone back. I’ll bet they’re on their way to Hidalgo, or maybe there already. So we’ll just follow them and nab them there.”

  He turned to Waldron. “Shall we just leave them, Jack, the same way they left me?”

  “Aw, we ought to shoot them now,” said the other. But Jennings shook his head.

  All this time Bruce had been thinking to himself how it might be possible for them to overpower the two and capture their ship. But the renegades’ guns had never been off them for a moment. Jennings motioned to them to get back into their space suits.

  As they fitted themselves into their suits again, Jennings said, “To show you were not rats, we’re going to leave you some extra provisions, enough for a few more days, and a small single-beam radio sender. If you change your minds about telling us where that ship is, you can tell us in the next day or so while we're still in range. We’ll return for you.”

  Bruce knew the lie when he heard it, but he made no answer. A few days more provisions, a few days more to think of some way out of their desperate fix.

  As they were getting ready to enter the airlock, Waldron suddenly spoke up, “Say, what were you doing down in that hole when we found you? Anything down there of value?”

  Dr. Rhodes turned. “Perhaps. Why not come back with us and see?”

  Waldron stared at him. “Heck no, we ain’t sticking around. If you don’t want to talk, don’t. Kurt and I will look for ourselves when we blast your pals out of existence.” He waved a hand. “O.K., get in that lock.”

  The two Rhodeses entered it, and Waldron slammed the door behind them. They heard the hiss of the air being pumped out.

  As the outer lock opened, Jennings’ voice came to them:

  “You’ll find the extra provisions stacked just outside the ship. We’ll give you ten minutes to move them to safety and get out of the way. After that we’re taking off to Hidalgo.”

  Bruce and Dr. Rhodes jumped down, found the boxes, and without further delay stacked them up between them and started c
arrying them off toward where their little tent and lone space boat stood far off across the plain. Because of the very low gravity on Mimas, the several big boxes which might have been very heavy on Earth were extremely light.

  At a safe distance, they put their load down and watched.

  Across the plain, the shining body of the Terraluna ship swung slowly about on its runners until it pointed away from Saturn in the direction in which Garcia and Benz had traveled. The glow of the great planet shone upon it in a golden bath and lit up the emblem of the moon-mining corporation which was painted upon the ship’s side.

  There were small streamers of vapor now coming from the great tubes in the rear. The rocket moved forward, started to slide across the plain, and Bruce felt its vibration in his feet. It occurred to him that the “earthquake” he and his father had felt while below in the underground storehouse-museum was the sound of the ship landing.

  Now the glistening vessel started to move faster across the flat rocky plain. It headed toward the rim of low mountains at the near horizon.

  There was a great streamer of fire from its rear and for an instant the ship started to rise above the surface, heading for the black starlit sky. Then something happened.

  There was a terrific flash of blinding light, a cloud of white vapor that vanished almost instantly in the airless void, and a tremendous thud. The whole front of the ship seemed to vanish, and the rear half settled against the plain, bounced about like some gigantic tin can, and rolled to a rest.

  “It . . . blew . . . up!” said Dr. Rhodes slowly. “It just blew up.” The engineer stared at it with open mouth.

  A suspicion struck Bruce then. He turned his head, looked at the ancient sentinel-tower looming near them. “No, Dad,” he said quickly. “It didn’t blow up— it was blown up!”