Earthbound (Winston Science Fiction Book 1)
Page 6
Slowly, majestically, the Crape Ring soared skyward, balancing with perfect grace atop a pillar of flame. Accelerating, the shaft of fire streaked higher and higher. The Crape Ring became a tiny dot reflecting the crimson of the newly risen sun.
It disappeared.
For several moments after that, Pete could see the streak of flame high up in the sky. Then it, too, was gone, leaving only a black line in the crisp early-morning blue.
“Whew!” Big Pete mopped his brow, “When I was a kid out there I used to think the tower boys had it easy.”
“They don’t,” Captain Saunders explained with a smile. “You can’t plot any orbit any old way. A slight miscalculation will send a ship streaking out of the solar system altogether, and while it could correct the mistake with its own power, so much fuel probably would be exhausted that it wouldn’t have enough left to brake for a landing.”
Pete stood up. “I think I’ll go home and take a nice long nap.”
His father chuckled softly. “I’d say you need one, son!
Two days later, Garr rushed into the tower excitedly. “Pete! Hey, Pete —”
“What’s up?”
“I just got my orders, that’s what. They don’t give you much time!”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re sending a ship off at sundown tonight, aren’t you? Out to the asteroids, the long way, past the sun?”
Pete nodded.
“Well,” Garr said, “I’ll be on it. Me, I’ll be on it! I’m going to space at last,” He shook Pete’s hand wildly, then, as if he had forgotten all about it, shook hands again. “I’m going to space.”
Then he danced a crazy jig, balancing his tall, lanky frame first on one foot, then the other. He cavorted madly about the tower, singing the Spaceman’s Chant in a high falsetto. After a time, Pete entered into the spirit of things, joining him in the song —
“Ho-ho Ho! for the void and far away-aay!”
“A couple of lunatics!” Captain Saunders laughed, entering the room.
“I — I’m sorry, sir,” Pete stammered. “We —”
“Forget it. Don’t you think I know what it’s like to go to space for the first time? Have your fun, boys, and listen. Pete, you can take the evening off if you’d like. I’ll have one of the other orbiteers take the ship up. You can watch your friend leave. Okay?”
“Yes, sir!” they both shouted together, and ran from the room.
The ship reared its pointed prow high up out of the blasting pit. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” said Garr.
“The best,” Pete agreed.
Garr frowned, but almost at once he was smiling again. “You know, I really wanted to go to Mars, and they’re shipping me out to the asteroids instead. Well, I’ll get to Mars some day, and meanwhile, there’ll be a lot of work to do in the asteroids. We’ll be landing on Ceres, and after that all the Cadets will be going out in two-man ships, checking on the miners. I’ll like that, Pete.”
The asteroid Ceres, Pete knew, was round, a man-sized chunk of miniature planet, over four hundred and twenty miles in diameter. When an astronomical body reached a certain size, physical law dictated its shape: it had to be round. But many of the thousands of asteroids that spun around the sun in their eternal orbits between Mars and Jupiter were too small for that — jagged lumps of rock careening chaotically through the void. The asteroid belt was a swarm of cosmic debris — and dangerous, unless you calculated your orbit in advance. Even the smallest speck of an asteroid could pulverize a spaceship.
“I guess I don’t have to say ‘good luck,’” Pete told his friend. “You know how I feel, Garr.”
“Sure,” Garr nodded. “And don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself. There’s only one thing that bothers me.”
“What’s that?”
“Out in the swarm, my shipmate will be Roger Gorham. It isn’t fair, Pete. It should be you. We planned it that way for a long time, but now I’m going, and leaving you behind on Earth.”
“You’re not leaving me!” Pete cried. “Don’t let it bother you, Garr — it wasn’t your idea. If they say I’m unfit, I guess I’m unfit. And anyway, this is a heck of a time to talk about that. You’re going to space, man — you’re going to space!”
“Yeah,” Garr said. “Yeah.”
And then a group of Cadets had come onto the field marching slowly toward their waiting ship.
“We’ll thunder off to Io
Out in the Jovian Moons!
We’ll seek the skies and feast our eyes
And plunder Martian ruins!”
They all seemed deliriously happy, all but one. Even Garr joined in, singing louder than the rest. But behind the little group came a stocky figure, walking indifferently, not singing.
Roger Gorham.
Pete couldn’t help overhearing them. “Must you sing that silly song?” Roger demanded.
And Garr stormed, “What’s the matter with you? Of course we want to sing it; it’s a beautiful song!”
“Well, I think it’s childish.”
“Childish?” Garr was incredulous. “Why’d you join the Cadets?”
“It wasn’t my idea,” Roger sneered. “My father thought I’d get some good experience this way, before I become an executive in his space-lines.” He laughed dryly. “I don’t intend to stay in the Cadets until I’m twenty-five. I’d go crazy out there with nothing to do.”
Garr snorted his disgust. “I guess you would,” he said, and stalked back toward Pete. “Nice guy, huh, Petey-boy?”
Pete smiled. “Just what the Solar Cadets need!”
Garr looked behind him, saw the last of the Cadets filing into the ship. A steward stood on the runway, staring at Garr meaningfully.
“That’s for me, Pete. They’re all set now; so, so I guess this is good-by.”
“Yes,” Pete said. “It’s good-by.”
“But heck, Petey-boy! Not forever. I’ll be back before we know it — and I’ll bring you a chunk of asteroid, too. Along with some mighty interesting tales about what lies out there . . .”
“So long!” Pete called, watching Garr run for the ship.
His friend waved once from the runway, then turned and strode in through the port. A moment later, the space-lock clanged shut. The steward got off the runway and two men in overalls began to wheel it away.
A port policeman motioned Pete back away from the blasting pit, continued motioning with his hands until Pete stood in the safety zone, two hundred yards from the ship. A crowd stood there, eager, expectant.
“Remember that one third from last, that was my son!”
“They’re going to the asteroids. It should be wonderful . . .”
“Any kid who doesn’t join the Cadets just doesn’t know what he’s missing . . .”
“Listen! Hear that noise? Means they’re ready!”
It was the familiar beep of the ship-to-tower signal, and a moment later the ship roared away.
Garr had gone to space! But when Pete closed his eyes, he saw the sneering face of Roger Gorham.
Chapter 8 — Pirates!
Pete wandered aimlessly away from the observation deck, only half-aware of the crowd dispersing slowly. Someone tapped his shoulder, and startled, he whirled around.
“Gus!”
“Yeah, it’s me. Hello, sonny.”
“I thought you said we wouldn’t have to meet any longer.”
“Yeah, I said that. But I just wanted to thank you for the message you sent the other day.”
“Don’t thank me! I had no choice, but I wouldn’t have done it, not unless . . .”
“Relax, sonny. Look — I like you. I mean that, I really do. But your trouble is you don’t understand me.”
“What’s there to understand? You’re a cheap, no-good crook!”
“Sonny!” Ganymede Gus admonished. “Sonny! Let me tell you a story. Wait, don’t run away! It will only take a minute. Years ago, I was washed out of space. Why? Because they suddenly d
ecided you had to be a Cadet graduate to pilot a ship or to be a crewman.
“How would you have liked that? Not so good, eh? Okay — I looked for a job. I didn’t just look for a few days. I looked for years. But all I’d known was spaceflight, and because I wasn’t a graduate, they wanted no part of me. I had to make a living . . .”
“But not at the expense of others!”
“I tried, but it was rough. Finally, I got in with my associates, and that way I can make good money. They don’t like me, sonny, because I think they know I don’t like them. So it’s purely business, and we work together.”
“All right,” Pete said coldly. “You’ve had your say. What’s all this got to do with me?”
“That’s the whole point. Why don’t you do what I did? Work with us, take your cut — and stay happy. Here.” Gus reached into his pocket, came up with a thick roll of bills. “You’ve earned these, you sure have . . .”
Pete thrust the hand away from him. “Take your filthy money!” he cried. “I don’t want it.”
Shrugging his thin shoulders, Ganymede Gus pocketed the roll of bills. “I was only trying, but heck, I don’t care. I can always keep it myself and double my own profit. The sooner you learn . . .”
“Look,” Pete said, jabbing a finger against Gus’s chest. “I don’t want to see you again. I’m finished, understand? If you bother me once more, I’ll call the police. Threaten my family, go ahead, I don’t care. The police can take care of that.”
“You’re wrong,” Ganymede Gus declared. “You haven’t seen the last of me, and you’ll continue to work for us, too. No, I won’t threaten your family — not if it looks like Sam’s strong-arm methods won’t pay off. But there’s another way, a better way. No, I won’t tell you about it now. Maybe in a couple of days, sonny, but not now. Meanwhile, use your head. At least until you hear from me, don’t go to the police. You’ll regret it if you do.”
Ganymede Gus did not wait for an answer. Instead, he turned away and quickly lost himself in the crowd.
I can go to the police, Pete thought, and end this before it goes any further. But what does Gus have up his sleeve this time? He didn’t sound as if he was fooling — and yet, and yet the deeper I get into this mess, the harder it’ll be to pull myself out. If I hadn’t started in the first place. . . .
Idly, he walked into the tower, took the elevator up to the observation level.
Captain Saunders was reading a newspaper, but he looked up sharply. “Oh, Pete.”
“Hello, sir. How was the blast-off?”
“Fine. It was fine. Pete . . .” Saunders seemed at a loss for words, and that wasn’t like the captain at all. “Yes, sir? What is it?”
“Here, Pete. Read this.” And Captain Saunders handed him the newspaper. The headline caught his attention at once, but what followed was even worse.
Unknown Pirates Loot Crape Ring
Cargo of Precious Gems Stolen
Solar Patrol Suspects Inside Job
Wednesday, Luna Base (Interplanetary Press) — A daring attack was made an estimated seven hours ago on the spaceship Crape Ring, heading out fifty thousand miles from Luna. Somehow, unknown pirates intercepted the Crape Ring’s orbit, joining airlocks with the ship in deep space and making off with half a million dollars’ worth of precious stones.
Although the masked looters were armed, no casualties have been reported. Speculation in high Luna Base circles indicates what Captain R. J. Turner of the Solar Patrol calls an “inside job.” Said Turner, “It is impossible to -assume that the pirates chanced upon the Crape Ring by a stroke of luck. By some unknown means they learned of the ship’s orbit and hence were in a position to intercept it.”
Captain Turner further told this reporter that an investigation was being pushed, although he admitted that the Patrol “has no leads whatever.” (See later edition for complete details.)
“What do you think of that?” Saunders demanded.
Pete said nothing, for his worst fears had been confirmed. Ganymede Gus was in league with a group of space-pirates — and Pete’s information had led them to the Crape Ring!
“I said, what do you think of that?”
“I — I don’t know. I . . .”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, and — say! You wanted to change that orbit at the last minute.”
“Yes, sir. I did.”
“It didn’t make sense, yet you wanted to change it. Why, Pete?”
“I — I can’t answer that.”
“You can’t answer it! Are you protecting someone, Pete? Is that it?”
“No, sir. I’m not protecting anyone. But I can’t answer your question.”
Saunders was angry, and his face showed it. He stormed, “I — never mind! If you don’t want to answer to me, You don’t have to. But before too long that Patrol investigation will reach us here, and when it does, you’ll have to answer to the law. By space, if you had anything to do with this —”
He slammed his hand down on the surface of his desk.
“I guess that means I’m not working here anymore,” Pete said.
“It doesn’t mean anything of the sort! I think you’re connected with this in some way, Pete. I hope it isn’t as bad as that, but until we find out, you stay here. I’m not going to condemn you because I happen to believe you’re hiding something.”
Pete mumbled, “Thank you.” That was the worst part of it. Captain Saunders had to be nice to him, perhaps had to stick his own neck into a mess of trouble because he still had faith in Pete. But Pete knew he didn’t deserve it. If they threw the book at him — well, you couldn’t blame them.
Pete took the elevator down, stepped out on the spacefield. Far-off toward the horizon, ground crews scurried around a ship like so many insects. By morning, it would be ready for blast-off. Down to the smallest detail, the men in the ground crew had to do their job well, otherwise disaster might result. And the same applied to the ship’s crew itself.
The world worked like that, Pete knew. You had to cooperate. If you didn’t, it meant trouble. If you couldn’t face something which had happened, if, instead, you turned away from your fellows and took the easiest way out — then you were asking for trouble. More than that, you were behaving like a coward. . . .
Then he’d go to the police!
No — no, he couldn’t do that. Ganymede Gus still had one final hand to play, and until he played it, Pete must wait. He could always give himself up, that would be the easy part of it. Meanwhile, Ganymede Gus might be able to involve others, innocent people, and Pete did not want that.
The police would have to wait.
“See the newspaper, sonny?” Ganymede Gus demanded.
“Oh, no! Not you again —” Gus was becoming a very annoying habit.
“Sure, Pete. I just ran down the road a ways and got me a copy of the paper. Thought you might like to see it.”
“I already have,”‘ Pete said, “But I warned you.” He took a quick step forward, grabbing Gus’s left arm. “We’re going to the police!”
Gus smiled. “You see my right hand, sonny? It’s in my pocket, and I’m holding a blaster there — pointed at you. We’re going, all right, but not to the police. There’s some place I want to take you.”
Pete shrugged wearily, got into stride with the scrawny ex-spaceman. In fifteen minutes they had reached the Carnival. In twenty, they had entered the familiar sideshow, had climbed up a. flight of stairs.
“I know this place,” Pete said. “If you think it will do any good to have that guy Sam work me over again —”
Gus seemed offended. “How crude do you think I am? That was necessary then. It isn’t necessary now. Just come along.”
They entered the room, and Pete saw that three men were waiting for them. Pete advanced warily, and Gus offered him a chair near the window. “Sam you know,” said Gus, gesturing to the hulking figure off in one corner of the room.
Sam grunted a greeting which Pete did not return.
“And over here,” continued Ganymede Gus, “is the man we all take orders from — Mr. Fairchild.”
Mr. Fairchild was well-dressed, good-looking, sure of himself. About thirty-five, Pete figured, perhaps forty. “How do you do, Peter? I’ve heard a lot about you. Our organization is always in need of good men, and Gus informs me that we can use you on a permanent basis, both here in White Sands — and elsewhere.”
Pete’s voice stuck in his throat. His palms were clammy and he could feel the pulses pounding at his temples, but he said, “Gus made a mistake. I don’t want to work for you.”
“Your desire in the matter,” Mr. Fairchild told him blandly, “is hardly worth considering. Oh, don’t misunderstand. I like satisfied employees, but that can wait. You will become satisfied in time. Meanwhile, we need you. Therefore, you come to work for us, as I have indicated. It is all very simple.”
“He’s already been working for us,” Gus pointed out.
“Yes, I know, but not on a permanent basis. When you wanted some information, you contacted Peter. But I want him to relay his information to us as a matter of course. Do you see the difference?” Mr. Fairchild lit a cigarette. “Further, we won’t stay here in White Sands forever, and when our operations enter a new phase entirely, we’ll need Peter along with us. Peter, how would you like to visit Antarctica?”
“Antarctica?” Pete gasped.
“Well, I see you’re interested. But never mind — more about that some other time, perhaps. Now I have a question which I would like you to answer, and all I want is a one-word reply. Will you work for us?”
“No.”
The man called Clarence Roth sucked in his breath sharply; Sam thumped his left fist against his right palm meaningfully; Ganymede Gus shook his head. But Mr. Fairchild remained unruffled. “As you can see,” he told Pete, “our Mr. Smith would like to take the matter into his own hands. He prefers violence to any other form of arbitration. Although he cannot become quite so violent, our Mr. Roth agrees. And Ganymede Gus is disappointed in you. As for myself, young man, I’ve always been a reasonable person. I am ready to reason with you.”