by Hal Clement
For a prisoner he still was. The matter had been discussed after he agreed to fly with them, and the boy himself had admitted that he could not see any way in which they could trust him free. He refused to admit what he had learned while he was examining the shed in which he had been caught, even though he realized that such an admission might satisfy everyone that he had learned nothing dangerous. Even Bowen, annoyed at his own failure to learn anything from the boy, admired his honesty; Tumble had said flatly that if he were given the chance, he would be off in an instant to tell all he possibly could to his still nameless friend. There had been no choice but to confine him in the buildings where tests and training were carried on. He must have known that in doing this the plant operators and Bowen were putting themselves in what might become an awkward position with the law, since he could easily charge them with kidnapping, but he never mentioned it.
Bowen himself was wondering what steps the "friend" might be taking to learn what had become of his little agent. The mysterious person must have known that nothing violent would have been done, and perhaps thought that the Niagara police knew more than they were telling; but if he ever tried to find out from them, no news of the fact got back to Bowen. This was almost worse than if a group of lawyers had shown up demanding the boy. The suspense was beginning to get on Uncle Jim's nerves, as his nephews soon noticed.
"It's this trying to do my regular work, and wondering at the same time when the young devil is going to make a break for the fence," he remarked once. "I'd rather he tried it than kept me waiting."
"If he did, what good would it do?" asked Peter sensibly. Tumble at the moment was inside a partly constructed space suit while adjustments were being made to it, and Bowen and the boys had seized the chance to talk about the problem he represented. "If you caught him," Peter went on, "you'd be right back where you were before, since we can't put him on bread and water or something for trying to get away. If you didn't—well, that's just what you're worrying about."
"I know it. Thank goodness we'll be in space in another ten days; I don't know whether I could stand it much longer."
"You know," Bart said thoughtfully, "I'm not sure that he'd go even it we let him. Either he's a darned good actor, or he wants to make this trip even worse than I do; and that's saying a lot." Bowen looked at the other boys to see how they felt about this. Peter nodded agreement; Dart looked uncertain, seemed about to say something, but changed his mind.
"You may be right," Bowen said slowly, "but he's a capable young fellow, and it wouldn't surprise me if he were as good at acting as everything else. I know it's reasonable for him to be interested in traveling to the moon or Mars, but how do you tell whether he really is or not?"
"He certainly has read a lot about them, as he said," pointed out Peter, "but he's not a real scientist—at least, he doesn't have much idea how things were found out about the planets. He can tell you what the air of Mars is like and the temperature of the hot side of Mercury, and rattle off the names and distances of Saturn's moons. Remember his crack about the place on the moon where the sun never sets? I didn't believe him, but I looked it up, and there is such a place. Those aren't things he picked up in school, and I don't think he boned up on them just on the chance of being caught. I rather agree with Bart; he'd stay with us anyway for the flight."
"You may be right, but we don't dare count on it," replied Bowen. "Also, please don't relax in your job of watching him, just because you think he doesn't need watching. Remember there's another reason why he might be staying on his own hook; he's learning a lot. We don't care whether most of it gets out or not, but he doesn't believe that. I don't see how anyone, even as young as he, who looks at a newspaper can have been so thoroughly fooled. This company was mentioned as the makers of the satellite station; my name was used, and even my picture, quite a number of times; the whole story of the first flight was published, together with the statement that we were looking for public help. Yet he gives this yarn about his friend's being a government agent out to stop exploitation of the planets! It just doesn't fit in with the brains the kid seems to have."
"You think, then, that he's working for someone who plans to pull something fast in the way of space travel, and all that we've seen of him was an act, made up for cover in case he was captured?" asked Bart.
"I don't know what to think. Pete's quite right about his astronomy; it's hard to believe that he could have learned so much just to put on an act. Still, he may have fooled Pete too, now that I think of it. Pete, has he ever kept up a connected conversation on these things you mentioned, or does he just drop some remark now and then which has given you the impression that he knows a lot? I mean, someone could learn about the moons of Saturn and the temperature of Mercury and so on—just pick up a few dozen facts, perhaps, which he could scatter at useful times. You see what I mean?"
"Yes," replied Peter, "and you might be right. I hadn't thought of it that way. When he did say something like that I didn't keep up the discussion; I just remembered it so that I could look it up later to see if he were right."
"I see. In that case, it might be smart for someone— probably you'd be the logical one—to get him really involved in talk about his beloved planets."
"I bet he'll know what I'm doing."
"He probably will. Still, I don't see how that will hurt;
if he really knows his business, he won't mind your finding out. If he doesn't he must know that he'd be caught out some day. Having it happen might stimulate him to try to get away, and that would at least end this miserable suspense."
"You mean you really want me to come out in the open and cross-examine him on what he knows of astronomy?"
"Well, no. You might as well try to be subtle. I'll tell you what—there's a telescope here at the plant. It's a regular astronomical instrument, with equatorial mounting and all that; they use it to measure the position of the satellite station, as a check on the radar bearings. It's a pretty good gadget, I believe. Why don't you and Tumble get together for a moon and planet gazing session? That would be natural enough for you. He couldn't refuse without stepping out of character, even if he wants to, and talking astronomy would certainly be natural under the circumstances. I'll see that you're given freedom to use the telescope when they're not making position checks with it." Bowen made a brief note in the tiny appointment book he usually carried.
"How about us?" asked Bart. "It seems to me that it would be just as much out of character for us not to be there as for Tumble to beg off."
"True enough. I can't be there, though; that would be going too far. I'll have to leave it up to you boys. I'll expect a report in the morning, Peter, on how genuine Tumble's astronomical knowledge is."
"Excuse me," said Peter, "but hadn't we better make sure there's something in the sky to look at before we make up the party? Is there an almanac or something around, or does anyone remember where the moon was last night?" The ensuing silence made it evident that no one did, so after a pause Peter suggested, "Well, then, I'll ask him anyway. If he knows what there is to see, it will tell us something."
All agreed to this, and the rest of the day was spent fitting space suits. Those of the Ranger boys were nearly finished, but Tumble's still had a long way to go. His size was bothering the designers seriously. Peter had no chance to ask him about using the telescope until nearly suppertime; when he did, the face under the mop of red hair lighted up in a way that made it very hard to believe that there was any acting involved.
"Sure!" he exclaimed. "I didn't know they had a telescope here. What can we see?"
"I don't know," replied Peter. "I haven't had a chance to look it up. There must be something, though. Of course, it won't be dark till pretty late; but............"
"But we can go see the telescope right after we eat, can't we? We'll have to learn how to use it, and anyway we should be able to see things before it's really dark." They went off to supper with that agreed, and as soon as the meal was finished the four boy
s headed for the small dome which contained the plant's observatory. There was no guard, and the door was unlocked.
Tumble was unbelievably excited; he had recognized Jupiter and Saturn in the sky, as well as the moon, and could hardly decide which to examine first. They finally settled on the moon. It was a day or two past first quarter, rather low in the southern sky; and after examination of the controls, Peter rather gingerly swung the twenty-inch Cassegrain toward it. Tumble followed the eyepiece around, almost dancing with excitement—he had, as he said, done a lot of reading, but had never had a chance to use a large telescope himself. He gave a cry as Peter, at the finder, steadied the instrument at the proper coordinates; the others could see the glow of the moon reflected from his eye as he peered into the big tube. He was talking, almost as though to himself.
"Golly! Just like the pictures! That must be Copernicus, right near the edge! and the Alps—that straight valley they always wonder about—and Plato and Anaxagoras and Shackleton—darn it, Pete, we can't see the north pole very well; I wanted to show you those mountains I was talking about....."
Peter forgot all about testing and began to enjoy himself.
10
THE POLARIS
UNCLE JIM heard the report on Tumble's reaction later that night, when the redhead and Dart had gone to their bunks. He nodded at the end.
"It looks very much as though you were right: he really is interested. However, we'll continue to keep an eye on him; goodness knows he could want to get into space and still be willing to do it with someone else."
"He couldn't do it nearly as soon, if his friend is in a state where he needs to spy on us," pointed out Bart.
"True. Well, I'll still be happier when we get off the earth with the young fellow. I wonder what he'll do when he finds we've been telling him the truth?"
"Stay around, I hope," replied Peter. "I like him. Besides, with what he knows about the planets, he ought to be good at exploring, if it turns out that we can do some looking around."
"Maybe. We'll soon know, anyway. The Polaris will lift a week from Friday, and we'll be at the satellite in a couple of hours after that."
"We? Are you going? I thought you couldn't go back into space!" Bart made the exclamations, and Peter's face showed that he was equally surprised.
"I'm going. I'm responsible for you boys, and you're not going to get so far that I can't keep a finger on your doings, believe me. I'll be able to stand the trip; they've arranged to use power all the way, as nearly as possible at one G, so the only times I'll be weightless will be at the half-time point when we reverse and while we're going from the Polaris into the station. I'll last through that—I guess." The boys did not fail to notice his expression as he made this statement, and looked at each other with some uneasiness.
"If you think you can stand it, why isn't it possible for you to do all this exploring yourself?" asked Bart.
"And if you're wrong, and lose your control during this turn you mention, what happens to the Polaris?" added Peter.
"To answer the second question first, the Polaris will be on automatic control the whole flight except for the last few seconds; during the contact with the satellite, the crew there will handle her by radio control. As for the other question, I only think I can stand this because it will be so brief—a few minutes at the most without normal weight. In any sort of exploring flight there would have to be maneuvering which could not be calculated completely in advance; that would mean changing power, and therefore changing weight over much longer times. That would be the situation which would leave a rocket with a helpless crew, in a place where assistance could not possibly reach them. Also, the gravity on other worlds would be wrong, and nothing could be done about it. No, Pete, your idea is still the only one which anyone here thinks has a chance of working."
"And I suppose they're pretty doubtful about that."
"Well, yes. But as you said some time ago, we can't be sure without trying. The two of you had better get to bed; you'll need to be in good shape for this trip, whether the idea works or not, and you'd better keep good sleeping hours. Come on—jump!"
"Better get some sleep yourself, Uncle!" retorted Bart as they left the room.
Bowen promised to do his best, but with the work remaining to be done in the next nine days, his best turned out to be a remarkably small amount of sleep. Even Tumble noticed it, when the explorer paused for a few minutes one morning to watch some tests being made on the Polaris' drive section. The boy was still uneasy about speaking directly to Bowen, but after the man had gone on he asked Peter about it.
"Say, Bookworm, isn't that Dr. Bowen looking pretty shot? I hope he's not going to be flying this thing, if he isn't in any better shape when we go."
"He won't be; he's not a pilot," replied Peter, "but you're right about the way he looks. He's working too hard for a man who's been sick."
"Why should he have much work to do? Everything is built, except some of the space suits. I should think they'd just be waiting."
Peter smiled, and looked at the younger boy.
"Never read much about airplanes, did you? There was one called the B-36, which had ten engines, and the things they had to check before every single flight filled a fair-sized book. That was after they'd built a lot of them and knew what they could do, too. The Polaris here has about four times as many miles of wiring in her electrical gadgets, and........ "
"What do you mean, miles of wire? What do they need all that for? Isn't she just a rocket ship?"
"That's all. Just a rocket ship. With a Phoenix fusion engine loaded with electric and magnetic gadgets; at least four electric calculating machines; radios for long range and short range; special radios to talk to people in space suits; radio direction finders, radar scanners, television contact between pilot and power room; electric control for all the doors so they can be operated from either outside or inside or the pilot's station and........"
"All right, all right. Don't use the word 'electric' any more; I get you. I still don't see why Dr. Bowen has to work so hard, though. He's not the guy who builds and checks all that stuff."
"He works because we haven't built a lot of ships like the Polaris, so nobody really knows what they can or can't do and exactly what will happen to them under different conditions. Uncle Jim is the fellow who has to worry about things that may happen and figure out beforehand what to do about them. Would you like the job?" Tumble thought for a while, watching the busy engineers as he did so.
"Sure," he said suddenly. "If it's not engineering, what can happen? There's nothing out there to worry about. If the ship works all right, everything's fine. You can't run into anything, and anyone could figure out how much food and air and water you'll need."
Peter just managed to keep from laughing for a moment; then he grew very serious indeed.
"Even if you were right, Tumble, that nothing out there is something to worry about. Did you ever have your blood boil?"
"Well, I was pretty mad when you said I was afraid to go into space with you."
"I don't mean it that way. Come with me." Peter slid down from the cable reel on which he had been sitting. "There's something Uncle Jim doesn't know I've seen; I guess he didn't want us to see it, but maybe you'd better." He headed for the observatory building, but did not visit the telescope. A small room there was filled with reference books, and of course Peter had found them long since and spent some time browsing through them. He led the way directly to one of the shelves and took down an obviously old and much-read book. Tumble caught just a glimpse of the title—something like Principles of Aviation Medicine, which seemed rather uninteresting to him. Peter took only a few seconds to find the page he wanted, and showed it to the redhead. Tumble looked, his face a puzzled frown.
"What's that? A fur-covered football?"
Peter shook his head, his face grimmer than Tumble had ever seen it.
"No. Read the description. It's a rabbit."
"A rabbit! It looks as though someon
e had pumped it full of air."
"Not air. Steam."
"You're crazy. What really did it?"
"What you were talking about a few minutes ago. Nothing."
"I don't get it."
"Ever hear of the way water boils at a lower temperature in high-altitude places like Santa Fe, where the air pressure is lower?"
"Sure. That's why it takes so long to boil eggs or potatoes; the boiling water isn't so hot."
"Right. Well, what happens if you go higher still?"
"I suppose the boiling point gets lower.''
"It does. At about sixty-three thousand feet it gets down to the same temperature as your blood—and your blood is mostly water. What happens then?" Tumble blinked, looked at the picture once more, and gulped. I—I see.
"This is a very old book; it was written just about the time people were first building high-altitude airplanes. They didn't have pressurized cabins, and wanted to find out what would happen to the pilots at different heights. They did it by putting animals in a room and pumping the air out. That's why I said nothing did that to the rabbit. It's the same nothing that we'll run into in space."
"Seems like a dirty trick on the animals."
"It was quick, and I suppose that they had 'em under ether. Anyway, better a rabbit than a man. Now do you see the sort of thing that worries Uncle Jim? There are risks like that, and probably others that no one's
thought of, and he feels responsible for........ " Peter stopped with a jolt. He had been just on the point of letting out the fact that must not under any circumstances be learned by Tumble until he was safely away from the earth—supposing he didn't know it already.
".... for the success of the whole thing, even if he isn't