by Mike Jurist
"Mr. Kenton," he exclaimed. "This is . . . uh . . . an unexpected pleasure . . . at this hour—"
"What hour?" demanded Simeon. "Ain't all hours midnight on the Pleasure Dome?"
Wilson permitted himself a faint smile. "Well, in a manner of speaking, it is. But—"
"You're right, Wilson. It's late here on Megalon, and getting later every minute. So let's get down to cases. That Comet X you've been keeping an eye on—what 've you found out about it you ain’t been telling the public or the Commission.
The astronomer blinked. "What a remarkable coincidence!" he gasped. "You're the third man in the last two hours to ask—"
Old Simeon's ears pricked up like a hunting dog's. "Eh? Who else has been asking besides Kerry Dale?"
Wilson's face fell. "So Kerry told you," he said sadly. "After I pledged him to secrecy."
"No, he didn't," snapped Simeon. "I have . . . ha . . . my own way of finding out. But who was the other fellow?"
"It doesn't matter much now," replied Wilson resignedly. "It seems everyone's due to know before the Commission itself. He was Jericho Foote."
"Aha!" snorted Kenton. "And double ha! That son of a Venusian swamp snake! And what did you tell these two special favorites, hey?"
Wilson explained his findings, much as he had given them to Kerry.
"Hmm, so that's it." Kenton's, mind was working so hard you could hear the wheels whir. "Do you think, Wilson," he asked finally, "that there comet's head has precious metals in it?"
"I don't know. The spectroscopic examination discloses elements either wholly unknown so far or existing under such unusual conditions as to distort their spectrum completely from the usual lines."
"Ha! Well, thank you, Wilson. Thank you a lot!"
"I suppose," said the astronomer with a mild sort of bitterness, "that I don't have to tell you to keep this . . . er . . . well-guarded secret from the newscasters."
"You certainly don't," chuckled Kenton.
"There, you see!" cried Sally as the astronomer's resigned visage faded from view.
"I certainly do," retorted her revered parent grimly. "Now lemme get the space port."
The night official was eager to tell the mighty Simeon Kenton everything—but everything.
"Yes, Mr. Kenton, Mr. Dale is here now. He's been using a private booth steadily for the last hour. Shall I ask the operator to find out whom he's been calling?"
"Certainly not," snapped Kenton at the too-eager official. His was a hard code, but it was a fair one. No unethical tricks; no illegal methods. "But you can tell me if the young . . . ah . . . man is intending to blast off from Earth shortly?"
The official brightened from his rebuff. "Yes, he asked me for clearance papers for his ship, the Flash. He's taking off at noon today."
"Noon!" exclaimed Simeon. "And where for?"
The official scratched his head. "Come to think of it, he was pretty vague about it. But when I said he had to clear for a specific destination, he said Ganymede."
"Ha!" Simeon's face glowed with excitement, and Sally started. Ganymede, Jupiter's largest satellite, was the last port of call in the System. And Comet X lay beyond, outside the orbit of Saturn. "Noon, did you say?"
"That's what his papers will call for."
"Good. Well, much obliged to you."
"Ask him about Foote, dad," said Sally quickly.
"By the ring-horned moon, Sally, you're a gem. I clean forgot!" He swung back to the screen. "Is that Venusian . . . uh . . . I mean Jericho Foote, also getting ready to blast off?"
The official looked astonished. "Mr. Foote?" he echoed.
"Why, he left just an hour ago. In fact, he took off in his private ship about ten minutes before Mr. Dale came in."
"The devil he did!" exploded Simeon. "Destination Ganymede?"
"Why—why, yes, sir."
"And I suppose," purred Kenton, "he had his clearance papers prepared long in advance?"
The official hesitated; looked unhappy. "Why . . . hmm . . . no, sir. He came tearing in, explained it was an emergency. Some disaster on Ganymede to one of his ships. So I made out his papers immediately." He didn't think it proper to add that a thousand dollar bill had deftly changed hands in the process.
Kenton swelled like a bullfrog getting ready for its mating song. "Don't you know the regulations?" he yelled. "Eight Earth hours must elapse between application and clearance."
The official reddened, stammered. "Why, it—it was—er—an emergency."
"Emergency, my foot—and I mean, Foote! By God, don't you let that young—ha—Dale sneak off before noon, or you'll be out of a job so fast you'll wish you were on Pluto."
"I—I won't," said the official eagerly. But Kenton had already switched off, leaving the unhappy man wiping his brow and muttering: "Whew! No wonder they call him Old Fireball. Hmmm! Something's up that got the old man so mad." fie felt in his pocket for the comforting feel of the thousand dollar bill and returned jittery to his duties.
Sally looked in dismay at her parent. "So Jericho Foote got the jump on Kerry. He'll get to Comet X long before him. Poor Kerry!"
Old Simeon stared at her with a half-indignant, half-commiserating glance. It was difficult to determine which had the upper hand. Then indignation triumphed. "Har-rumph, Sally," he snorted. "You seem to forget that both were trying to steal a march on Simeon Kenton. Sneaking off to grab what's on that comet and laughing up their dingbusted sleeves at getting the better of me."
"But how can you stop Foote?" she wanted to know. "His private cruiser is as fast as anything you've got, dad. And if there's anything out there, he'll file on it long before you can get under way."
Most illogically she said nothing about Kerry Dale. For she knew very well that his Flash—a remodeled old cargo ship—could be handily caught up with and left flatfooted in space by any one of a dozen ships at her father's disposal. Somehow or other, now that the showdown was on, she didn't feel happy about it.
Her esteemed parent grinned. It was an angelic grin; and when be made that saintly show on his features, it meant he had some particularly devilish idea in mind.
"Ha!" he chuckled. "I think yours truly can stop 'em both in their tracks."
"But how?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he flipped the visiscreen, barked into it: "Charles Melville; an' I want him dingbusted fast!"
The dignified chairman of the Interplanetary Commission was no more pleased than anyone else at being routed out of bed at the ungodly hour of three in the morning. "Well, what is it now, Simeon?" he demanded grumpily of his belated caller.
"Look, Charlie, your Commission's got jurisdiction over that new Comet X, ain’t it?"
"I—I suppose so. We've got jurisdiction over the entire
System. But—"
"Then let me tell you something you don't know yet. Comet X 's got a solid core of brand-new elements. It's liable to be the biggest thing that's come in the System since—since —har'—rumph—Pharaoh fished Moses from the bulrushes—or maybe it was the other way round. I don't remember."
"What's that?" exclaimed Melville, his grumpiness and his sleep completely fled. "Where'd you get that information?"
"Oh, I've got sources, Charlie. But," added Kenton virtuously, "I don't take advantage of 'em as some other people I know. I obey the rules and regulations of the Commission."
Melville stared suspiciously. This was a new one on him. Oh, to be sure, old Simeon never exactly broke a regulation; but he certainly knew how to twist and distort one until it amounted to the same thing. "Come clean, Simeon," he snapped. "What do you want now?"
"Only to see that your jurisdiction isn't flouted, my friend," purred Kenton even more virtuously than before, if that were possible. "Now, if I wanted to be underhanded, I could of said nothing an' sent a fast ship out to the comet to file on anything I could find of value, afore your Commission had a chance to lay down rules. But I ain't built that way. I'm law-abiding and I believe in acting fair and square, gi
ving everyone the same chance. That's why I'm calling you now."
"Hmmm!" grunted the chairman. "There's something behind this I don't understand. But again I ask, come clean."
The look of injured innocence on old Simeon's face was something to behold. Even Sally, well accustomed to her parent's injured looks, had hastily to stuff a handkerchief in her mouth to choke off a giggle.
"This is clean, Charlie," yelled Kenton irascibly, forgetting his pose. "It's as clean as your dadfoodled face. Anyway, it's the Commission's duty by law and constitution to lay down the proper rules and regulations for claiming and filing on newly discovered territory, ain’t it?"
"Yes, it is."
"Well, then, all I ask of you is to follow your own precedents—when the Asteroid Belt was opened up; and the Jupiter satellites. Give everyone an equal chance. Proclaim a starting day. Let anyone that wants to prospect start at the same time from Megalon. Register all entrants to make sure there's no dirty water at the crossroads. No claims legal unless all conditions are complied with. No sneaking out afore the gun."
Melville contemplated him intently a moment. "Equal chance, my eye!" he snorted. "You've got the fastest ships in the System."
"No, I ain't. That planetoidal scoundrel, Foote's got just as fast. And how about the private racers? Besides, that's the way it's been done before."
The chairman hesitated, then said doubtfully: "I suppose it's the only possible way to avoid worse complications or inequities. But," he added meaningly, "we'll put off the starting date for two weeks from now, so that everyone has the same chance to get ready."
"That's all right with me, Charlie," agreed Simeon meekly. "What's fair is fair. But don't you forget to put in the proclamation that any damn fool who tries to beat the gun has to come back to Megalon and begin from scratch."
"I won't. There's a Commission meeting scheduled for nine o'clock. I'll have them draw the necessary documents immediately."
"Before noon?"
"Before noon."
"Good!" said Simeon genially. "Now get back to bed and catch up on that beauty sleep that ugly map of yours needs so badly, Charlie. Ha! Ha!"
"Ha! Ha!" grunted the chairman of the Interplanetary Commission somewhat sourly. Then, as the screen went blank, he grumbled thoughtfully to himself. "I wish I knew what old Simeon's up to. Oh, well, it's the law." He sighed, and went back to bed.
"That puts Kerry out of the running, doesn't it," said Sally remorsefully. "I—I'm sorry I told you."
Simeon softened. "Look Sally, he was out of the running anyway. Foote got the jump on him." He patted her shoulder. "This'll give him a chance to show how really smart he is."
She was frankly sobbing now. "With all the cards stacked against him?"
"That's the real test, ain’t it? That's how I came up—the hard way; every blitberskite's hand against me. I'll say this, Sally," he added kindly. "If he beats me now, you can marry him."
An impish smile shone through her tears. "Dad," she said, "I'm marrying him in any event."
"Ha! Disobeying your own blood and flesh, are you?"
She kissed him. "In this case . . . yes! And remember, I gave you the first break. After this, I'm on Kerry's side."
"Okay, you viper in my bosom," he chuckled. "But mind you—you gotta play fair. No using what you wormed out o' me tonight."
"I wormed out of you!" she started indignantly. Then she twinkled. "All right, dad. But after this, business is business."
"And no holds barred."
"Right!" Father and daughter solemnly shook hands.
CHAPTER 9
AT TWENTY MINUTES before noon the Flash was battened down, its entry ports slid into hermetically sealed position. The members of the crew, their earlier grumpiness forgotten in the rush of events, the backbreaking toil of getting ready against time, stood at their respective positions, awaiting the final command to blast off.
Kerry Dale checked his clearance papers to make certain everything was in order. They were. A hundred dollar bill slipped to the port official had seen to that. Only one thing disturbed him. The strange insistence of the official that he must under no circumstances take off before the moment of noon. He had puzzled over that for the last hour. The man had looked a little embarrassed; scared even. And he had refused to elaborate when Kerry pressed him for the reason.
It was a little thing; but Kerry was accustomed to watching little things. As the minutes ticked slowly off, he became even more uneasy. Something was in the wind; of that he was sure. He spoke his fears to Jem.
The mate laughed it off. "What difference does it make?" he wanted to know. "We'll get to . . . uh . . . Ganymede just as fast. In a two week trip we kin make up a few minutes easy enough. That is," he added with peculiar emphasis, "if we're headin' that way." He was a little hurt that Kerry hadn't seen fit to take him into his confidence.
Kerry grinned. "Of course we are, Jem." Then he frowned again. Foote knew what he did; and Foote was a pretty slick customer. Had he somehow gotten wind that Kerry knew too, and was even now taking measures to head him off? Kerry never thought of old Simeon Kenton in this connection. He certainly didn't know that Sally had put two and two together and made a million. He had thought of Sally plenty during the hectic night; and with remorse. He had treated her cavalierly. But then, she had done the same to him! His jaw set grimly. There was a lot of unfinished business to take care of when he returned. When - he returned? Who knew what awaited him on Comet X—what perils, what unknown lethal gases, what destructive radiations. And there was Foote, who wouldn't hesitate to kill—if he could get away with it—in order to gain his ends.
Sparks was seated at his receptor; his lean, dry face that stemmed from an ancient Yankee ancestry working calmly on some Venusian pungent root. Jem was leaning idly against the observation port, staring disinterestedly at the field outside. Hardly anything was stirring there. They were the only ship ready for taking off. The administration building loomed foursquare about two hundred yards away; and even that seemed deserted.
The warning signal buzzed on the receptor. That was the official channel, always left open. Sparks shifted his plug root to the other cheek, flicked a switch. Charles Melville, chairman of the Interplanetary Commission, sharpened into focus on the screen. In his hand was a legal-looking document.
"Attention, all planets, satellites, asteroids and ships in space. I am about to read to you an important regulation, regularly promulgated and sealed by the Interplanetary Commission this twenty-third day of the fifth month in the Earth year two thousand, four hundred and one. Subject, Comet X. It having been brought to the attention of the Commission that the said Comet X possesses a solid planetoidal core of hitherto unknown elements which may prove of definite monetary and other value, and the said Comet X coming under the jurisdiction of the Commission as by law hitherto provided, we do now declare to all and every inhabitant of the System that—"
At the first mention of Comet X, Kerry went rigid. The gears of his mind meshed smoothly and raced at breakneck speed. So Foote had found out he was taking off, and bad pulled some fast work at the Commission to prevent him. He walked rapidly and noiselessly toward the screen. As he did, Jem, leaning against the observation port, uttered an exclamation. "Something's up!" he cried. "There's the field official—and—well, what do you know—Miss Kenton! They're runnin' toward us like all hell's afire. By Saturn's rings," he said admiringly, "that gal kin run! She's a—"
Kerry slipped, and fell heavily against the visiscreen. There was a jar, a crash, a little spurt of blue flame and some smoke. The screen went blank.
Sparks cried out in anguish: "You've went and busted the screen, Mr. Dale."
"Sorry!" said Kerry, righting himself. "I slipped."
Jem turned at the crash, swung back to the port. "By God, they're yelling at us. There must be some message—" He moved toward the mechanism that regulated the entry port.
Kerry whirled, physically and mentally. Sally! Had she come to tell h
im she had changed her mind—that she would marry him, father or no father? But why then was the official running with her? A blinding light burst on him. Now be knew why the man had been so insistent that the Flash stay in the blasting cradle until the stroke of noon. He had known this Commission directive was coming—to stop him. He cursed under his breath. Taking his hundred dollar bribe and laughing inwardly at the gullible fool all the while. Sally—Jericho Foote—the Commission—everyone was against him!
His jaw set, his eyes grew hard.
"Orders, Jem," he rasped. "Blast off at once!"
Jem turned unbelievingly. "But the field instructions, Kerry," he protested. "It's still ten minutes o' noon. And Miss Sally—"
Sparks also protested. "I have to fix the screen first. A Commission regulation says—"
"This is my order," grated Kerry. "Blast off at once!"
Jem stared, shrugged and obeyed. The pop-eyed crew, bewildered at the tense little drama, sprang to the controls. There was a whoosh—a roar—and the Flash hurtled smoothly upward, leaving a blast of flame echoing in the rocket pit beneath.
Sally and the official were so close that the concussion almost knocked them to the ground. The official gasped: "They've taken off!" Then he wailed: "What will your father say, Miss Kenton!"
"Oh, drat my father!" she snapped most unfilially. She stared upward as the craft soared swiftly into the heavens, accelerating steadily. It grew smaller and smaller on the sight; became a tiny, elongated oval, and then vanished into the sunlit sky.
She had rushed to the field to be on the spot exactly at the moment that the Commission directive was being publicly promulgated. That way she would not be breaking her promise to old Simeon. Then she could warn Kerry not to take off. Within the two-week grace period he might be able to purchase or charter one of the special racing craft that competed in the great annual Planetary Derby around the triangular Earth—Mars—Venus course. Millions of Earth dollars, Martian santus and Venusian merales were always wagered on the result.
But now he was gone. And unless he was brought back—She turned, left the astonished official standing openmouthed, rushed back to the administration building. She hastened to the board of the Intersystem Communications Service.
