by Jerry eBooks
“Yes, mother.”
“Extra! Extra! Stratosphere Rocket Reaches Paris. Read aaaaalllllll about ’t.” The thin little man in the bifocals snatched at the paper and hurried back to the office.
“Look at this, A.J.”
“Huh? Hm-m-m, interesting, but what of it?”
“Can’t you see? The next stage is to the Moon!”
“God, but you’re a sucker, Delos. The trouble with you is, you read too many of those trashy magazines. Now, I caught my boy reading one of ’em just last week and dressed him down proper. Your folks should have done you the same favor.”
Harriman squared his narrow, middle-aged shoulders. “They will so reach the Moon!”
His partner laughed. “Have it your own way. If baby wants the Moon, papa will bring it home for him. But you stick to your discounts and commissions; that’s where the money is.”
The big car droned down the Paseo, and turned off on Armour Boulevard. Old Harriman stirred uneasily in his sleep and muttered to himself.
“BUT, Mr. Harriman—” The young man with the notebook was plainly perturbed. The old man grunted.
“You heard me. Sell ’em. I want every share I own realized in cash as rapidly as possible; Spaceways, Spaceways Provisioning Co., Artemis Mines, Luna City Recreations, the whole lot of them.”
“It will depress the market. You won’t realize the full value of your holdings.”
“Don’t you think I know that? I can afford it.”
“What about the shares you had earmarked for Tycho Observatory and for the Harriman Scholarships?”
“Oh, yes. Don’t sell those. Set up a trust. Should have done it long ago. Tell Mr. Kamens to draw up the papers. He knows what I want.”
The interoffice ’visor flashed into life. “The gentlemen are here, Mr. Harriman.”
“Send ’em in. That’s all, Ashley. Get busy.” Ashley went out as McIntyre and Charlie entered. Harriman got up and trotted forward to greet them.
“Come in, boys, come in. I’m so glad to see you. Sit down. Sit down. Have a cigar.”
“Mighty pleased to see you, Mr. Harriman,” acknowledged Charlie. “In fact, you might say we need to see you.”
“Some trouble, gentlemen?” Harriman glanced from face to face. McIntyre answered him.
“You still mean that about a job for us, Mr. Harriman?”
“Mean it? Certainly. I do. You’re not backing out on me?”
“Not at all. We need that job now. You see, the Carefree is lying in the middle of the Osage River, with her jet split clear back to the injector.”
“Dear me! You weren’t hurt?”
“No, aside from sprains and bruises. We jumped.”
Charlie chortled. “I caught a catfish with my bare teeth.”
In short order they got down to business. “You two will have to buy a ship for me. I can’t do it openly; my colleagues would figure out what I mean to do and stop me. I’ll supply you with all the cash you need. You go out and locate some sort of a ship that can be refitted for the trip. Work up some good story about how you are buying it for some playboy as a stratosphere yacht, or that you plan to try to establish an Arctic-Antarctic tourist route. Anything as long as no one suspects that she is being outfitted for space flight.
“Then, after the department of transport licenses her for strato flight, you move to a piece of desert out West—I’ll find a likely parcel of land and buy it—and then I’ll join you. Then we’ll install the extra fuel tanks, change the injectors and timers and so forth, to fit her for the hop. How about it?” McIntyre looked dubious. “It’ll take a lot of doing. Charlie, do you think you can accomplish that change-over without a dockyard and shops?”
“Me? Sure, I can—with your thickfingered help. Just give me the tools and materials I want, and don’t hurry me too much. Of course, it won’t be fancy—”
“Nobody wants it to be fancy. I just want a ship that won’t blow when I start slapping the keys.”
“It won’t blow, Mac.”
“That’s what you thought about the Carefree.”
“That ain’t fair, Mac. I ask you, Mr. Harriman—that heap was junk, and we knew it. This’ll be different. We’re going to spend some dough and do it right. Ain’t we, Mr. Harriman?” Harriman patted him on the shoulder. “Certainly we are, Charlie. You can have all the money you want. That’s the least of our worries. Now, do the salaries and bonuses I mentioned suit you? I don’t want you to be short.”
“—as you know, my clients are his nearest relatives and have his interests at heart. We contend that Mr. Harriman’s conduct for the past several weeks, as shown by the evidence here adduced, gives clear indication that a mind, once brilliant in the world of finance, has become senile. It is, therefore, with the deepest regret that we pray this honorable court, if it pleases, to declare Mr. Harriman incompetent and to assign a conservator to protect his financial interests and those of his future heirs and assigns.” The attorney sat down, pleased with himself.
Mr. Kamens took the floor. “May it please the court—if my esteemed friend is quite through—I suggest that in his last few words my opponent gave away his entire thesis. ‘The financial interests of future heirs and assigns.’ It is evident that the petitioners believe that my client should conduct his affairs in such a fashion as to insure that his nieces and nephews, and their issue, will be supported in unearned luxury for the rest of their lives. My client’s wife has passed on; he has no children. It is admitted that he has provided generously for his sisters and their children in times past, and that he has established annuities for such near kin as are without means of support.
“But now, like vultures—worse than vultures, for they are not content to let him die in peace—they would prevent my client from enjoying his wealth in whatever manner best suits him for the few remaining years of his life. It is true that he has sold his holdings; is it strange that an elderly man should wish to retire? It is true that he suffered some paper losses in liquidation. ‘The value of a thing is what that thing will bring.’ He was retiring and demanded cash. Is there anything strange about that?
“It is admitted that he refused to discuss his actions with his so-loving kinfolk. What law, or principle, requires a man to consult with his nephews on anything?
“Therefore, we pray that this court will confirm my client in his right to do what he likes with his own, deny this petition, and send these meddlers about their business.”
The judge took off his spectacles and polished them thoughtfully.
“Mr. Kamens, this court has as high a regard for individual liberty as you have, and you may rest assured that any action taken will be solely in the interests of your client. Nevertheless, men do grow old, men do become senile, and in such cases must be protected.
“I shall take this matter under advisement until tomorrow. Court is adjourned.”
From the Kansas City Star:
ECCENTRIC MILLIONAIRE DISAPPEARS
—failed to appear for the adjourned hearing. The bailiffs returned from a search of places usually frequented by Harriman with the report that he had not been seen since the previous day. A bench warrant under contempt proceedings has been issued and—
A DESERT sunset is a better stimulant for the appetite than a hot dance orchestra. Charlie testified to this by polishing off the last of the ham gravy with a piece of bread. Harriman handed each of the younger men cigars and took one himself.
“My doctor claims that these weeds are bad for my heart condition,” Harriman remarked as he lighted his, “but I’ve felt so much better since I joined you boys here on the ranch that I am inclined to doubt him.” He exhaled a cloud of blue-gray smoke and resumed. “I don’t think a man’s health depends so much on what he does as on whether he wants to do it. I’m doing what I want to do.”
“That’s all a man can ask of life,” agreed McIntyre.
“How does the work look now, boys?”
“My end’s in pretty good shape,
” Charlie answered. “We finished the second pressure tests on the new tanks and the fuel lines today. The ground tests are all done, except the calibration runs. Those won’t take long—just the four hours to make the runs if I don’t run into some bugs. How about you, Mac?”
McIntyre ticked them off on his fingers. “Food supplies and water on board. Three vacuum suits, a spare, and service kits. Medical supplies. The buggy already had all the standard equipment for strato flight. The late lunar ephemerides haven’t arrived as yet.”
“When do you expect them?”
“Any time—they should be here now. Not that it matters. This guff about how hard it is to navigate from here to the Moon is hokum to impress the public. After all, you can see your destination—it’s not like ocean navigation. Gimme a sextant and a good stadimeter and I’ll set you down any place on the Moon you like—without opening an almanac or a star table—just from a general knowledge of the relative speeds involved.”
“Never mind the personal build-up, Columbus,” Charlie told him. “Well admit you can hit the floor with your hat. The general idea is, you’re ready to go now. Is that right?”
“That’s it.”
“That being the case, I could run those tests tonight. I’m getting jumpy—things have been going too smoothly. If you’ll give me a hand, we ought to be in bed by midnight.”
“O.K. When I finish this cigar.” They smoked in silence for a while, each thinking about the coming trip and what it meant to him. Old Harriman tried to repress the excitement that possessed him at the prospect of immediate realization of his lifelong dream.
“Mr. Harriman—”
“Eh? What is it, Charlie?”
“How does a guy go about getting rich, like you did?”
“Getting rich? I can’t say; I never tried to get rich. I never wanted to be rich, or well known, or anything like that.”
“Huh?”
“No, I just wanted to live a long time and see it all happen. I wasn’t unusual; there were lots of boys like me—radio hams, they were, and telescope builders, and airplane amateurs. We had science clubs, and basement laboratories, and science-fiction leagues—the kind of boys that thought there was more romance in one issue of the Electrical Experimenter than in all the books Dumas ever wrote. We didn’t want to be one of Horatio Alger’s get-rich heroes, either; we wanted to build spaceships. Well, some of us did.”
“Gosh, Pop, you make it sound exciting.”
“It was exciting. Charlie. This has been a wonderful, romantic century, for all of its bad points. And it’s grown more wonderful and more exciting every year. No, I didn’t want to be rich; I just wanted to live long enough to see men rise up to the stars, and, if God was good to me, to go as far as the Moon myself.” He carefully deposited an inch of white ash in a saucer. “It has been a good life. I haven’t any complaints.”
McIntyre pushed back his chair. “Come on, Charlie, if you’re ready.”
“O.K.”
They all got up. Harriman started to speak, then grabbed at his chest, his face a dead gray-white.
“Catch him, Mac!”
“Where’s his medicine?”
“In his vest pocket.”
They eased him over to a couch, broke a small glass capsule in a handkerchief, and held it under his nose. The volatile released by the capsule seemed to bring a little color into his face. They did what little they could for him, then waited for him to regain consciousness.
Charlie broke the uneasy silence. “Mae, we ain’t going through with this.”
“Why not?”
“It’s murder. He’ll never stand up under the initial acceleration.”
“Maybe not, but it’s what he wants to do. You heard him.”
“But we oughtn’t to let him.”
“Why not? It’s neither your business nor the business of this damn paternalistic government to tell a man not to risk his life doing what he really wants to do.”
“All the same, I don’t feel right about it. He’s such a swell old duck.”
“Then what d’yuh want to do with him—send him back to Kansas City so those old harpies can shut him up in a laughing academy till he-dies of a broken heart?”
“N-no-o-o—not that.”
“Get out there, and make your set-up for those test runs. I’ll be along.”
A WIDE-TIRED desert runabout rolled into the ranch-yard gate the next morning and stopped in front of the house. A heavy-set man with a firm, but kindly, face climbed out and spoke to McIntyre, who approached to meet him.
“You James McIntyre?”
“What about it?”
“I’m the deputy Federal marshal hereabouts. I got a warrant for your arrest.”
“What’s the charge?”
“Conspiracy to violate the Space Precautionary Act.”
Charlie joined the pair. “What’s up, Mac?”
The deputy answered. “You’d be Charles Cummings, I guess. Warrant here for you. Got one for a man named Harriman, too, and a court order to put seals on your spaceship.”
“We’ve no spaceship.”
“What d’yuh keep in that big shed?”
“Strato yacht.”
“So? Well, I’ll put seals on her until a spaceship comes along. Where’s Harriman?”
“Right in there.” Charlie obliged by pointing, ignoring McIntyre’s scowl.
The deputy turned his head. Charlie couldn’t have missed the button by a fraction of an inch, for the deputy collapsed quietly to the ground. Charlie stood over him, rubbing his knuckles and mourning.
“That’s the finger I broke playing shortstop. I’m always hurting that finger.”
“Get Pop into the cabin.” Mac cut him short, “and strap him into his hammock.”
“Aye, aye, skipper.”
They taxied on the auxiliary motor out of the hangar, turned, and started out across the desert plain to find elbow room for the take-off. McIntyre saw the deputy from his starboard conning port. He was staring disconsolately after them.
McIntyre fastened his safety belt, settled his corset, and spoke into the engine-room speaking tube. “All set, Charlie?”
“All set, skipper. But you can’t raise ship yet, Mac. She ain’t named!”
“No time for your superstitions!” Harriman’s thin voice reached them. “Call her the Lunatic. It’s the only appropriate name!”
McIntyre settled his head into the pads, punched two keys, then three more in rapid succession, and the Lunatic raised ground.
“How are you. Pop?”
Charlie searched the old man’s face anxiously. Harriman licked his lips and managed to speak. “Doing fine, son. Couldn’t be better.”
“The acceleration won’t be so bad from here on. I’ll unstrap you so you can wiggle around a little. But I think you’d better stay in the hammock.” He tugged at buckles. Harriman partially repressed a groan.
“What is it. Pop?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. Just go easy on that side.”
Charlie ran his fingers over the old man’s side with the sure, delicate touch of a mechanic. “You ain’t foolin’ me none, Pop. But there isn’t much I can do until we ground.”
“Charlie—”
“Yes, Pop?”
“Can’t I move to a port? I want to watch the Earth.”
“Ain’t nothin’ to see yet; the blast hides it. As soon as we build up enough speed to coast up to the change-over point, I’ll move you. Tell you what; I’ll give you a sleepy pill, and then wake you when we cut the jets.”
“No!”
“Huh?”
“I’ll stay awake.”
“Just as you say, Pop.”
Charlie fought his way up to the nose of the ship, and braced himself on the gimbals of the pilot’s chair. McIntyre questioned him with his eyes.
“Yeah, he’s alive all right,” Charlie told him, “but he’s in bad shape.”
“How bad?”
“Couple of cracked ribs, anyh
ow. I don’t know what else. I don’t know whether he’ll last out the trip, Mac. His heart was pounding something awful.”
“He’ll last, Charlie. He’s tough.”
“Tough? He’s delicate as a canary.”
“I don’t mean that. He’s tough way down inside—where it counts.”
“Just the same, you’d letter set her down awful easy if you want to ground with a full complement aboard.”
“I will. I’ll make one full swing around the Moon and ease her in on an involute approach curve. We’ve got enough fuel, I think.”
WHEN they commenced to coast in a free orbit, Charlie unslung the hammock and moved Harriman, hammock and all, to a side port. McIntyre turned the ship about a transverse axis so that the tail pointed toward the Sun, then gave a short blast on two tangential jets opposed in couple to cause the ship to spin slowly about her longitudinal axis, and thereby create a slight artificial gravity. The initial weightlessness when coasting commenced had knotted the old man with the characteristic nausea of free flight, and the pilot wished to save his passenger as much discomfort as possible.
But Harriman was not concerned with the condition of his stomach.
There it was, all as he had imagined it so many times. The Moon swung majestically past the viewport, twice as wide as he had ever seen it before, all of her familiar features cameo-clear. She gave way to the Earth as the ship continued its slow swing, the Earth itself, as he had envisioned her, appearing like a noble moon, eight times as wide as the Moon appears to the Earthbound, arid more luscious, more sensuously beautiful than the silver Moon could be. It was sunset near the Atlantic seaboard—the line of shadow ran down Hudson Bay, slashed through the eastern coast line of North America, touched Cuba, and obscured the eastern bulge of South America. He savored the mellow blue of the Pacific Ocean, felt the texture of the soft green and brown of the continents, admired the blue-white cold of the polar caps. Canada and the great Northwest were obscured by cloud, a vast low-pressure area that spread across the continent. It shone with an even more satisfactory dazzling white than the polar caps.