Space Platform

by Murray Leinster

  8

  Nevertheless, the afternoon began splendidly. Joe dunked the bottledsoft drinks in the lake to cool. Then he and Sally ate and talked andlaughed. Joe, in particular, had more than the usual capacity forenjoyment today. He'd been through twenty-four hours of turmoil but nowthings began to look better. And there was the arrangement with Sally,which had a solid satisfactoriness about it. Sally was swell! If she'dbeen homely, Joe would have liked her just the same--to talk to and tobe with. But she was pretty--and she was wearing his ring. She'd wrappedsome string around the inside of the band to make it fit.

  The only trouble was that Joe was occasionally conscious of the heavyweight in his right-hand coat pocket.

  But they spent at least an hour in contented, satisfying, meaninglessloafing that nobody can describe but that everybody likes to rememberafterward. From time to time Joe looked ashore, when the weight in hispocket reminded him of danger.

  But he didn't look often enough. He was pulling the chilled soft-drinkbottles out of the lake when he saw a movement out of the corner of hiseye. He whirled, his hand in his pocket....

  It was the Chief, with Haney and Mike the midget. They were stridingacross the rocky small peninsula.

  Haney called sharply: "Everything okay?"

  "Sure!" said Joe. "Everything's fine! What's the matter?"

  "Mike had a hunch," said the Chief. "And--uh--I remembered I worked onthe job when this dam was built twelve-fifteen years ago." He lookedabout him. "It looked different then."

  Then he caught Joe's eye and jerked his head almost imperceptibly to oneside. Joe caught the signal.

  "I'll see about some more soft drinks," he said. "Come help me fish upthe bottles."

  Sally smiled at the other two. She was already inspecting the lunchbasket.

  "We still have some sandwiches," she said hospitably, "and some cake."

  Haney came forward awkwardly. Mike advanced toward her with something oftruculence. Joe knew what was in his mind. If Sally treated him like afreak.... But Joe knew with deep satisfaction that she wouldn't. He wentdown to the water's edge.

  "What's up, Chief?" he asked in a low tone.

  "Mike hadda hunch," rumbled the Chief. "Somebody tried to smash thestuff you brought. They did. But we started gettin' set to mend it. Sowhat would they do? Polish us off. If they were set to atom-dust thewhole Shed an' everybody in it, they wouldn't stop at four moremurders."

  Joe fished for a pop bottle.

  "Mike said something like that back at the Shed," he observed.

  "Yeah. But you were the one who figured things out. You'd be firsttarget. Haney and Mike and me--we'd be hard to knock off in a crowd inBootstrap. But you and her headed off by y'selves. Mike figured youmightn't be safe. So we checked."

  Joe brought up one bottle and then another.

  "We're all right. Haven't seen a soul."

  "Don't mean a soul hasn't seen you," growled the Chief. "A car leftBootstrap less than twenty minutes behind you. There were three guys init. It's parked down below the dam, outa sight. We saw it. And when wecame up, careful, we spotted three guys hidin' out behind the rocksyonder. They look to me like they're waiting for somebody to gostrolling back from the shoreline, so's--uh--maybe folks out at thepowerhouse can't see 'em. That'd be you and her, huh?"

  Joe went cold. Not for himself. For Sally.

  "There's nobody else around," said the Chief. "Who'd they be waiting forbut you two? Suppose they got a chance to kill you. They'd take the carkeys. They'd drop your two bodies somewheres Gawdknowswhere. There'd beconsiderable of a hunt for you two. Major Holt would be upset plenty.Security might get loosened up. There might be breaks for guys whowanted to do a little extra sabotage--besides maybe hamperin' therepairin' of the pilot gyros. Then they could try for Haney and Mike andme."

  Joe said coldly: "I've got a pistol and so has Sally. Shall we takethose pistols and go ask those three if they want to start something?"

  The Chief snorted.

  "Use sense! It's good you got the pistols, though. I snagged atwenty-two rifle from a shooting gallery. It was all I could get in ahurry. But go huntin' trouble? Fella, I want to see that Platform go up!I'll take care of things now. Good layout here. They got to come acrossthe open to get near. Don't say anything to Sally. But we'll keep oureyes open."

  Joe nodded. He carried the chilled, dripping bottles back to where Haneysolemnly ate a sandwich, sitting crosslegged with his back to the lakeand regarding the shore. The Chief dragged a .22 repeating rifle frominside his belt, where it had hung alongside his thigh. He casuallystrolled over to Mike and dropped the rifle.

  "You said you felt like target practice," he remarked blandly. "Here'syour armament. Any more sandwiches, ma'am?"

  Sally smilingly passed him the last. She left the top of the basketopen. The pistol that had been there was gone. Then Sally's eyes metJoe's and she was aware that his three friends had not come here merelyto crash a picnic. But she took it in stride. It was an additionalreason for Joe to approve of Sally.

  "Me," said the Chief largely, "I'm goin' to swim. I haven't had any morewater around me than a shower bath for so long that I crave to soak andsplash. I'll go yonder and dunk myself."

  He wandered off, taking bites from the sandwich as he went. He vanished.Haney leaned back against a sapling, his eyes roving about the shorelineand the rocks and brush behind it.

  Mike was talking in his crackling, high-pitched voice.

  "But just the same it's crazy! Fighting sabotage when we little guyscould take over in a week and make sabotage just plain foolish! We coulddo the whole job while the saboteurs weren't looking!"

  Sally said with interest: "Have you got the figures? Were they everpassed on?"

  "I spent a month's pay once," said Mike sardonically, "hiring a mathshark to go over them. He found one mistake. It raised the margin ofwhat we could do!"

  Sally answered: "Joe! Listen to this! Mike says he has the real answerto sabotage, and, in a way, to space travel! Listen!"

  Joe dropped to the ground.

  "Shoot it," he said.

  He was grimly alert, just the same. There were men waiting for them tostart back to the car. These saboteurs were armed, and they intended tomurder Sally and himself. Joe's jaws clamped tautly shut at the grimideas that came into his mind.

  But Mike was beginning to speak.

  "Forget about the Platform a minute," he said, standing up togesticulate, because he was only three and a half feet high. "Justfigure on a rocket straight to the moon. With old-style rockets they'da' had to have a mass ratio of a hundred and twenty to one. You'd haveto burn a hundred and twenty tons of old-style fuel to land one ton onthe moon. Now it could be done with sixty, and when the Platform's up,that figure'll drop again! Okay! You're gonna land a man on the moon. Heweighs two hundred pounds. He uses up twenty pounds of food and drinkand oxygen a day. Give him grub and air for two months--twelve hundredpounds. A cabin seven feet high and ten feet across. Sixteen hundredpounds, counting insulation an' braces for strength. That makes a payload of a ton an' a half, and you'd have to burn a hundred an' eightytons of fuel--old-style--to take it to the moon, and another hundred an'twenty for every ton the rocket ship weighed. You might get a man to themoon with a twelve-hundred-ton rocket--maybe. That's with the old fuels.He'd get there, an' he'd live two months, an' then he'd die for lack ofair. With the new fuels you'd need ninety tons of fuel to carry the guythere, and sixty more for every ton the ship weighed itself. Call it sixhundred tons for the rocket to carry one man to the moon."

  Sally nodded absorbedly.

  "I've seen figures like that," she agreed.

  "But take a guy like me!" said Mike the midget bitterly. "I weighforty-five pounds, not two hundred! I use four pounds of food and air aday. A cabin for me to live in would be four feet high an' five across.Bein' smaller, it wouldn't need so much bracing. You could do it for twohundred pounds. Three hundred for grub and air, fifty for me. Me on themoon supplied for two months would come
to five-fifty pounds. Sixteentons of fuel to get me to the moon direct! To carry the weight of theship--it's smaller!--fifty tons maximum!"

  "I--see...," said Sally, frowning.

  He looked at her suspiciously, but there was no mockery in her face.

  "It'd take a six-hundred-ton rocket to get a full-sized man to themoon," he said with sudden flippancy, "but a guy my size could do thesame job of stranglin' in a fifty-ton job. Counting how much easier it'dbe to get back, with atmosphere deceleration, I could make a trip, land,take observations, pick up mineral specimens, and get back--all in asixty-ton rocket. That's just ten per cent of what it'd cost to take afull-sized man one way!"

  He stamped his foot. Then he said coldly: "Haney, sittin' still you're asittin' duck!"

  The comment was just. Joe knew that Sally was on the lakeward side ofthis small island, and that there were impenetrable rocks between herand the mainland. But Haney sat crosslegged where he could watch themainland, and he hadn't moved in a long while. If someone did intend tocommit murder from a distance, Haney was offering a chance for a veryfine target. He moved.

  "Yeah!" said Mike with fine irony, reverting to his topic. "I could showyou plenty of figures! There are other guys like me! We've got as muchbrains as full-sized people! If the big brass had figured on us smallguys, they coulda made the Platform the size of a four-family house an'it'd ha' been up in the sky right now, with guys like me running it.Guys my size could man the ferry rockets bringin' up fuel for storage,and four of us could take a six-hundred-ton rocket an' slide out to Marsan' be back by springtime--next springtime!--with all the facts and thephotographs to prove 'em! By golly----"

  Then he made a raging, helpless gesture.

  "But that's just the big picture," he said bitterly. "Right now, rightat this minute, we could make it easy to finish the Platform the wayit's building in the Shed! There are ferry rockets building somewhereelse. You know about them?"

  Sally said apologetically: "Yes. I know there'll be smaller rocket shipsgoing up to the Platform. They'll carry fuel and stores and exchangesfor the crew. Yes, I know there are ferry rockets building."

  "Those ferry rockets," said Mike sardonically, "carry four men, plus tworeplacements for the crew. They'll carry air for ten days. But put fourof us small guys in a ferry rocket! _We'd_ have air and grub for twomonths, almost! Pull out the pay load and put in a hydroponic garden andcommunicators and we'd _be_ a Platform, right then! Send up anotherferry rocket to join us, and it could bring guided missiles! The ferryrockets could be finished quicker than the Platform! Send up three ferryrockets with midgets as crews, an' we could weld 'em together and have aSpace Platform in orbit and working--and what'd be the use of sabotagingthe big Platform then? The job would be done! There'd be no sensesabotaging the big Platform because the little one could do anything thebig one could! It'd be up there and working! But," he demanded bitterly,"do you think anybody'll do anything as sensible as that?"

  His small features were twisted in angry rebellion. And he was quiteright in all his reasoning. Mankind could have made the journey to theplanets in a hurry, and it could have had its Space Platform in the skymuch more quickly, if only it could have consented to be represented bypeople like Mike--who would have represented mankind very valiantly.

  Sally said distressedly: "Oh, Mike, it's all true and I'm so sorry!"

  And she meant it. Joe liked Sally especially right then, because shedidn't patronize Mike, or try to reason him out of his heartbreak.

  Then Haney said abruptly: "Somebody's spotted the Chief."

  Joe mentally kicked himself. The Chief had said he was going to swim.Now--but only now--Joe looked to see what he was doing.

  He was far out from shore, swimming unhurriedly to the powerhouse at themiddle of the dam. He would reach it, and swing up the ladder that couldjust be seen going down the lake side of the dam's top, and he wouldexplain the situation on shore. A telephone call to Bootstrap wouldbring security men rushing at eighty miles an hour, and parachutetroopers a good deal faster. But even before they arrived the Chiefwould lead the powerhouse crew ashore armed with the shotguns they keptfor shooting waterfowl in and out of season.

  The men on shore might or might not consider the Chief's swim to beproof that he knew their intentions. They were probably discussing thematter in some agitation right now. But they couldn't know that theparty on the semi-island was armed.

  Suddenly Mike said crisply: "We're goin' to have visitors."

  He lay down carefully on the ground, fifteen feet uphill from Sally,where he could look over the ridge. He snuggled the .22 target rifleprofessionally to his shoulder. He drew a bead.

  Three men very casually strolled out of the brushwood on the shore. Theymoved nonchalantly toward the strand of rocks that led out to the picnicspot. They looked like anybody else from Bootstrap. Casual, rough workclothing.... Haney bent down and picked up four good throwing stones.His expression was pained.

  Joe said: "We've got pistols, Haney, and Sally's a good shot."

  The men came on. Their manner was elaborately casual. Joe stepped upinto view.

  "No visitors!" he called. "We don't want company!"

  One of the men held his hand to his ear, as if not understanding. Theycame on. They made no threatening gestures.

  Then Joe took his hand out of his pocket, the pistol Sally'd given himgripped tightly.

  "I mean that!" he said harshly. "Stand back!"

  One of the three spoke sharply. On that instant three snub-nosed pistolsappeared. Bullets whined as the men hurtled forward. The purpose was notso much murder at this moment as the demoralizing effect of bulletsflying overhead while the three assassins got close enough to do theirbloody job with precision.

  A stone whizzed by Joe--Haney had thrown it--and the small target riflein Mike's hands coughed twice. Joe held his fire. He had only sixbullets and three targets to hit. With a familiar revolver he'd havestarted shooting now, but thirty yards is a long range with a strangepistol at a moving target.

  One of the three killers stumbled and crashed to the ground. A secondseemed suddenly to be grinning widely on one side of his face. A .22bullet had slashed his cheek. The third ran head on into a rock thrownby Haney. It knocked the breath out of him and his pistol fell from hishand.

  Joe fired deliberately at the widely grinning man and saw him spinaround. Mike's target rifle spat again and the man Joe had hit wheeledand ran heavily, making incoherent yells. The one who'd tumbledscrambled to his feet and fled, hopping crazily, favoring one leg.Deserted, the third man turned and ran too, still doubled over and stillgasping.

  Mike's voice crackled. He was in a towering rage because of the way thetarget rifle shot. It threw high and to the right. The shooting gallerypaid off in cigarettes for high scores--so the guns didn't shootstraight.

  Until this moment Joe had been relatively calm, because he had somethingto do. But just then he heard Sally say "Oh!" in a queer voice. Hewhirled. Unknown to him, she had not been waiting under cover, butstanding with her pistol out and ready. And her face was very white, andshe was plucking at her hair. A strand came away in her fingers. Abullet had clipped it just above her shoulder.

  Then Joe went sick ... weak ... trembling, and he disgraced himself byhalf-hysterically grabbing Sally and demanding to know if she was hurt,and raging at her for exposing herself to fire, while his throat triedto close and shut off his breath from horror.

  There came loud pop-pop-popping noises. With the peculiar reverberationof sound over water, two motorcycles started from the powerhouse alongthe crest of the dam. They streaked for the shore carrying five men, oneof whom was the Chief, with a red-checked tablecloth about his middle,brandishing a fire axe in default of other weapons.

  The danger was over.

  But the assassins couldn't be followed immediately. They still had atleast two pistols. Eight men and a girl, counting Mike, with an armamentof only two pistols, a .22 rifle, two shotguns and a fire axe were not aproperly equipped posse
to hunt down killers. Also by now it was closeto sunset.

  So the victors did the sensible thing. Joe and Sally and Haney and theChief--his clothes retrieved--plus Mike headed back for Bootstrap. Joeand Sally rode in the Major's black car, and the other three in thejalopy they'd rented for the afternoon. On the way into the canyon belowthe dam, they stopped at the parked car their would-be assassins hadcome in. They removed its distributor and fan belt. The other menreturned to the powerhouse with their shotguns and the fire axe, andtelephoned to Bootstrap. The three gunmen who had planned murder becamefugitives, with no means of transportation but their legs. They had agood many thousand square miles of territory to hide in, but it wasn'tlikely that they had food or any competence to find it in the wilds. Twowere certainly hurt. With dogs and planes and organization, it should bepossible to catch them handily, come morning.

  So Joe and Sally drove back to Bootstrap with the other car followingclosely through all the miles that had to be covered in the dark.Halfway back, they met a grim search party in cars, heading for the damto begin their man hunt in the morning. After that, Joe felt better. Buthis teeth still tended to chatter every time he thought of Sally'sstartled, scared expression as she pulled away a lock of her hair thathad been severed by a bullet.

  When they got back to the Shed, Major Holt looked tired and old. Sallyexplained breathlessly that her danger was her own fault. Joe'd thoughtshe was safely under cover....

  "It was my fault," said the Major detachedly. "I let you go away fromthe Shed. I do not blame Joe at all."

  But he did not look kindly. Joe wet his lips, ready to agree that anydisgrace he might be subjected to was justified, since he had causedSally to be shot at.

  "I blame myself a great deal, sir," he said grimly. "But I can promiseI'll never take Sally away from safety again. Not until the Platform'sup and there's no more reason for her to be in danger."

  The Major said remotely: "I shall have to arrange for more than that. Ishall put you in touch with your father by telephone. You will explainto him, in detail, exactly how the repair of your apparatus is planned.I understand that the gyros can be duplicated more quickly by the methodyou have worked out?"

  Joe said: "Yes, sir. The balancing of the gyros can, which was thelongest single job. But anything can be made quicker the second time.The patterns for the castings are all made, and the bugs worked out ofthe production process."

  "You will explain that to your father," said the Major heavily. "Yourfather's plant will begin to duplicate these--ah--pilot gyros at once.Meanwhile your--ah--work crew will start to repair the one that ishere."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And," said the Major, "I am sending you to the pushpot airfield. Iintend to scatter the targets the saboteurs might aim at. You are one ofthem. Your crew is another. From time to time you will confer with themand verify their work. If any of them should be--disposed of, you willbe able to instruct others."

  "It's really the other way about, sir," objected Joe. "The Chief andHaney are pretty good, and Mike's got brains----"

  The Major moved impatiently.

  "I am looking at this from a security standpoint," he said. "I am tryingto make it plainly useless to attack the gyros again. Duplicates will bein production at your father's plant. There will be three men repairingthe smashed ones. There will be another man in another place--and thiswill be you--who can instruct new workmen in the repair procedure ifanything should happen. Thus there will have to be three separatesuccessful coups if the pilot gyros are not to be ready when thePlatform needs them. Saboteurs might try one. Possibly two. But I thinkthey will look for another weak spot to attack."

  Joe did not like the idea of being moved away. He wanted to be on thejob repairing the device that was primarily his responsibility. Besides,he had a feeling about Sally. If she were in danger, he wanted to be onhand.

  "About Sally, sir----"

  "Sally," said the Major tiredly, "is going to have to restrict herselfto the point where she'll feel that jail would be preferable. But shewill see the need for it. She will be guarded a good deal more carefullythan before--and you may not know it, but she has been guarded ratherwell."

  Joe saw Sally smiling ruefully at him. What the Major had said wasunpleasant, but he was right. This was one of those arrangements thatnobody likes, an irritating, uncomfortable, disappointing necessity. Butsuch necessities are a part of every actual achievement. The differencebetween things that get done and things that don't get done is oftenmerely the difference between patience and impatience with tediousdetails. This arrangement would mean that Joe couldn't see Sally veryoften. It would mean that the Chief and Haney and Mike would do theactual work of getting the gyros ready. It would take all the glamourout of Joe's contribution. These deprivations shouldn't be necessary.But they were.

  "All right, sir," said Joe gloomily. "When do I go over to the field?"

  "Right away," said the Major. "Tonight." Then he added detachedly:"Officially, the excuse for your presence there will be that you havebeen useful in uncovering sabotage methods. You have. After all, throughyou a number of planes that would have been blown up have now had theirbooby traps removed. I know you do not claim credit for the fact, but itis an excuse for keeping you where I want you to be for another reasonentirely. So it will be assumed that you are at the pushpot field forcounter-sabotage inspection."

  The Major nodded dismissal with an indefinable air of irony, and Joewent unhappily out of his office. He telephoned his father at length.His father did not share Joe's disappointment at being removed to aplace of safety. He undertook to begin the castings for an entire newset of pilot gyros at once.

  A little later Sally came out of her father's office.

  "I'm sorry, Joe!"

  He grinned unhappily.

  "So am I. I don't feel very heroic, but if this is what has to be doneto get the Platform out of the Shed and on the way up--it's what has tobe done. I suppose I can phone you?"

  "You can," said Sally. "And you'd better!"

  They had talked a long time that afternoon, very satisfyingly andwithout any cares at all. Neither could have remembered much of what hadbeen said. It probably was not earth-shaking in importance. But nowthere seemed to be a very great deal of other similar conversationurgently needing to be gone through.

  "I'll call you!" said Joe.

  Then somebody approached to take him to the pushpot airfield. Theyseparated very formally under the eyes of the impersonal securityofficer who would drive Joe to his destination.

  It was a tedious journey through the darkness. This particular securityofficer was not companionable. He was one of those conscientious peoplewho think that if they keep their mouths shut it will make up for theirinability to keep their eyes open. Socially he treated Joe as if he werea highly suspect person. It could be guessed that he treated everybodythat way.

  Joe went to sleep in the car.

  He was only half-awake when he arrived, and he didn't bother to rousehimself completely when he was shown to a cubbyhole in the officers'barracks. He went to bed, making a half-conscious note to buy himselfsome clothes--especially fresh linen--in the morning.

  Then he knew nothing until he was awaked in the early morning by whatsounded exactly like the crack of doom.