by John Blaine
Gus shook his head sadly. “Listen how he talks about my car. He has no respect for old age, that’s what. Mac gassed up the Cub, I think.”
“You think? What a way to run an airport. I’d better take a look. Maybe you just think you put in the new oil gauge, too!”
“Not on your life,” replied Gus. “I did that with my own lily-white hands.”
As Rick walked around the plane toward the cabin, he stopped suddenly. The inspection port in the tail assembly, a tiny metal door, was partly open. “Hey, Gus, tell Mac to keep his eyes open, will you? He left the inspection port open.” He secured it and climbed in, a little angry. He didn’t like people to be careless with his plane.
Scotty got in beside him and they tightened safety belts. Gus pulled the prop through and the engine caught at once. Rick waved his thanks and taxied to the end of the runway. In a moment they were in the air, climbing like a gull toward the sea and home. Rick kept a careful eye on the new oil pressure gauge until he saw that it read normally. He leveled off for the run to Spindrift.
CHAPTER IV
Scotty Gets Himself a Job
Rick flew due east until he picked up the old barn that was his regular landmark, and then banked in a lazy circle over it and set his course forSpindriftIsland . He noted absently that a new advertising slogan had been painted on the barn’s slanting roof:
SMOKE WHITE CREAM.
“Do you fly a lot?” Scotty asked.
“Every day during the summer,” Rick said, “if the weather’s good. I’m the island taxi and delivery service. In the winter I fly to school and do the shopping on the way home.”
“What do you do the rest of the time?”
“Sometimes I tinker with gadgets. And sometimes Dad lets me help out in the lab. I get a big kick out of that.”
“What are these labs?”
“I’ll show them to you,” Rick promised. “But I can’t talk about the experiments and stuff without Dad’s Page 15
okay.”
He pointed ahead to whereSpindriftIsland was coming over the horizon. “That’s home,” he said.
As they flew closer, Scotty asked, “Is it actually an island? It looks to me as though it were connected with the main shore.”
“It is, at low tide,” Rick admitted. “The back side of the island is a tidal flat, all rocks. They’re mostly under water at high tide.”
The island was almost below now. Rick pointed out the house and laboratories, discreetly failing to mention the big rocket launcher in Pirate’s Field; then he pointed to the neat farm buildings on the island’s cultivated north side.
“That’s where we get our vegetables and milk,” he told Scotty. “The Huggins family runs the farm for us, on shares.”
Scotty raised up in his seat and peered up over the nose. “I was wondering where you were going to land this thing. The strip between the sea and the trees?”
“That’s right,” Rick said. “Shall I land right side up for a change?”
“If you don’t mind.” Scotty grinned. “I’ve got more uses for this neck of mine later on.” He watched Rick bank out to sea, losing altitude. “It looks like a wonderful place to live.”
“It is,” Rick agreed. He wanted to say more, to tell Scotty how much fun it was and what good times the family had together, but it was hard to talk about anything so personal and important.
He brought the Cub around in a smooth, 180-degree turn, lining up the nose with the grassy strip. The house flashed by and then they were over the grass. He held the plane off until it “sold out”; then he let it roll along to the place where his tie ropes were staked out.
“Home,” he announced. “Here’s the welcoming committee.” He pointed to Dismal, who was coming through the orchard as fast as his short legs would move.
Scotty climbed out, laughing at the pup’s ungainly way of running.
Diz barked happily at Rick, wagging his tail until his whole body vibrated. He paid no attention to Scotty until his young master said, “Say hello to Scotty, Dismal.”
The dog walked over, nose outstretched to sniff Scotty’s waiting hand. He sat down and examined the hand thoughtfully, while the marine waited.
“He’s deciding,” Rick said.
Dismal cocked his head, decided that Scotty was acceptable, barked once, and rolled over on his back, all four legs in the air.
“That’s his trick,” Rick explained. “The only one he knows. That means he likes you.”
Scotty laughed. “A thoughtful dog with one trick,” he said. “That’s really something.”
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Rick led the way to the columned porch of the house. He was tempted to stop and show his newest gadget to Scotty, but he knew they should see his father at once.
Hartson Brant was in his office, hard at work on a mathematical problem. He rose as the boys entered.
“Did you get the tube, Rick?” His eyes on Scotty were curious.
“No, Dad.” Before the scientist could ask questions, Scotty was introduced.
“Welcome to Spindrift,” Hartson Brant said cordially. He shook Scotty’s hand and motioned him to a chair. Then he faced his son. “Rick, I think you’d better explain that bump on your head.”
He listened in silence as Rick told his story. Then he shook his head and said, “That was a foolish and dangerous thing to do, chasing those men, son. You had no right.”
“But they were buying up all the triodes inNewark , Dad. I couldn’t let them get away with that.”
“I’m afraid you were a little overzealous, Rick.” He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “But I appreciate your loyalty, son. However, I’m sure your suspicions are unfounded. And you can’t blame the men in the sedan for getting angry, can you? They probably were on some perfectly innocent errand.”
“But they bought at least two dozen triodes, Dad. They couldn’t use that many.”
“’I think they could,” Hartson Brant said. “Suppose they were making a full-power pack for a high-power transmitter? Wouldn’t they use a large bank of triodes then?”
“I guess so,” Rick admitted. He decided to let the thing drop. There was a chance that his father was right.
Hartson Brant turned to Scotty. “Even if my son was mistaken, Scotty, I’m none the less grateful to you.
You said you were just discharged from the marines?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“Do you have your discharge?”
Scotty produced a leather folder from inside his green blouse and handed it to the scientist.
Hartson Brant read the parchment carefully. “Tarawa,Saipan ,Okinawa . You evidently saw a lot of action.”
“Enough so that I don’t want to see any more,” Scotty said.
“I can understand that. According to your discharge, you enlisted at the age of seventeen.”
“That’s what it says, sir,” Scotty nodded. He seemed suddenly ill at ease.
Rick cast a sharp look at his father.
Hartson Brant smiled. “That would make you just over twenty, and somehow I don’t think you’re that Page 17
old. Let’s have it, son. Were you underage when you enlisted?”
Scotty turned pink. “Yes, I was big for my age. The recruiting sergeant didn’t ask too many questions.”
“I had an idea it was something like that,” Hartson Brant said, smiling. Then after a pause, “How would you like to work for me?”
Rick held his breath.
“I’d like nothing better, sir, but I don’t know anything about science,” Scotty said slowly.
“That’s not necessary. I think we might use a guard until the experiment is over. At least you can keep inquisitive newspaper reporters away from the rocket launcher. The job is yours if you want it.”
“Thank you, sir. I accept with pleasure.”
“Fine. Rick will show you a room. Tomorrow well talk about a salary and some civilian clothes for you.”
Rick grinned from ear to ear, de
lighted that Scotty would not have to continue on his lonely way toNew York . He had taken a liking to the young marine on sight.
“Well have to do without the triode until tomorrow, Rick,” his father said. “It will be all right, I think. The new panel is almost assembled, so we haven’t lost much time.”
A voice asked, “Did I hear something about doing without the triode?”
They looked up as John Stringfellow came into the office. Rick introduced Scotty, whom the tall technician greeted cordially, then explained, “I couldn’t get a tube. I tried a half-dozen places and they were sold out.”
“Hmm. That’s odd,” Stringfellow commented. “Did you try Royal Electronics?”
“No,” Rick admitted.
“I’ll see if they have any in stock,” Stringfellow said. He glanced at his watch. “Someone should still be there.”
He picked up the phone and asked for aNewark number. Rick heard him speak with Barby, then heard her say, “Here’s your party.”
“This isSpindriftIsland , Stringfellow speaking.” He gave the number of the tube and waited a moment while someone at the other end made a quick check. Presently he said, “Fine, we’d like three. Will you deliver them to the boat landing at Whiteside, first thing in the morning? Thank you.”
He smiled at Rick. “Easy enough. I’ll run over in one of the motorboats in the morning and pick them up.”
Hartson Brant looked at his son as if to say, “See, Rick? It wasn’t a plot after all.”
The boy turned red under his tan and said, “I’ll show Scotty to his room now.”
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Upstairs, Scotty looked around. “You mean this room is all mine?”
“Sure. Is it all right?”
“All right?” Scotty put his hand in the middle of the bed and tested the spring as though he couldn’t believe it was real. “After living in tents or barracks for so long, it’s like a corner of heaven.”
“My room’s right here through this connecting door. The bath is down the hall. Come on, I’ll get you clean towels.”
In a few moments they were cleaned up, only Rick’s bruise showing evidence of the fight. They went downstairs to the big dining room.
The Brants and the scientists had already gathered. Rick introduced Scotty to the people he hadn’t met, noting Barby’s quick interest.
Throughout the meal Rick noticed Scotty’s amazement at the good-natured banter that passed between the dignified-looking scientists. “They only look formal,” he told the marine, when they had finished dinner and retired to their rooms. “They’re really regular guys.”
As they entered Rick’s room, Scotty stopped short, his glance taking in the weird assortment of gadgets.
“Come on in,” Rick said. “I’ll explain the place to you.”
“You’ll have to. What is it? An electrical museum?”
“Brant Hall of Electronic Science,” Rick replied, and proceeded to show his new friend the arrangements he had made for what he called “the simple, more comfortable life.”
Above the radiator was an intricately wired alarm clock. He set it and turned the hands ahead. As it went off, the windows slid shut, the heat lever on the radiator flew into the “on” position, and the radio turned on.
Scotty looked impressed.
“That’s nothing,” Rick said. “Sit down in that chair.”
He was proudest of all of the old leather chair he had rigged up. Along one arm was a row of buttons.
The first controlled the reading lamp, a motor rheostat giving just the amount of light required for any purpose. The second turned on the radio, the third controlled the volume, the fourth gave a choice of five stations, depending on how many times it was depressed.
“Push the fifth one,” Rick invited with a grin.
Scotty gave it a wary push. The back of the chair flopped down and a footrest shot into position. He recovered his balance with an effort and found that the adjustment was perfect for reading in a stretched-out position.
Rick grinned at Scotty’s look of awe. “This is my workbench over here,” he said. He pushed a catch and a wall shelf opened. It revealed a neat bench, complete with soldering irons, coils of wire, jars of switches, and other parts. On one end was a small wooden box.
Page 19
Rick picked it up. “This is something I’m working on now.”
Scotty examined it. “Looks like the spark coil off an old model T Ford.”
“That’s just what it is. I want to rig it up so I can carry it on my belt with a couple of batteries. Then, when I turn on the juice and touch something- Wow!”
Scotty scratched his head. “What’s the idea? You don’t go around giving people shocks just for fun, do you?”
“Sometimes,” Rick said. “The scientists get playful now and then. A few days ago Professor Zircon saw me come into the lab, so he charged a Leyden jar—that’s a jar that stores electricity. He left it where I’d be sure to pick it up. It’s a bad habit I have, always handling things. I grabbed the Leyden jar and zowie!
I let out a yelp that could be heard inEurope . So I’m working on something to get back at the prof.”
“Nice place.” Scotty grinned. “I’d better wear rubber soles for insulation with all this electricity around.”
He hesitated. “Want to tell me what’s happening here? I’m so curious I could bust a seam.
Rick began tinkering with the spark coil. He could always talk better when his hands were busy.
“Well,” he began, “I guess the best place to start is at the beginning.”
Scotty made himself comfortable in the gadget-controlled armchair. “It usually is,” he agreed.
“Before the war,” Rick went on, “Dad worked at the university as professor of physics. There wasn’t any laboratory here then, except for a little one where Dad tinkered with things. Then the government asked him to take over one phase of radar development.”
“Radar?” Scotty gave a low whistle. “I’ve seen it work, Is that something!”
“Anyway they needed labs, so the government put up the money and built this one, and they asked Dad to get a staff together. They worked all during the war. The scientists decided that they made a swell team. They wanted to stay together after the war, but the government decided to tear down the lab. The scientists were sick about it, but there wasn’t anything they could do. Then along came old John Stoneridge.”
“The millionaire?”
“That’s the one. He’s over eighty, you know. He decided to parcel out some of his millions. He had a grant of two million dollars set up for the electrical sciences, only he put a few strings on it.”
Scotty was sitting upright. “What kind of strings?”
“The two million will be given to the group of scientists making the most important contribution to their special field within a single year. A year isn’t much time for a really big development, you know. But Dad and the others decided to make a try for it, anyway. They pooled all the money they had, borrowed more, and thin they went to work. That was in July, last year.”
“Then the year is almost up.”
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Rick nodded. “A little less than a week to go.”
“But what’s the thing they’re working on?”
“A rocket to the moon.”
Scotty sank back in the armchair and stared.
“It’s big,” Rick said. “It’s the biggest thing since the atom bomb, I guess. And we’re almost ready. Dad and the others are assembling the control units now. The rocket will be controlled by radar.”
“But how will you know where it is once it takes off?” Scotty objected.
“The radar scopes will tell us. Besides, there will be about a ton of explosive in the nose. When it hits the moon, there will be a blast big enough to be seen by telescope.”
“How about the fuel?” Scotty still looked disbelieving.
“That was a big problem,” Rick admitted. “Then Dr. Wisecarver, one of
the scientists, developed a new fuel that’s powerful enough to do the trick. He got some of the radioactive stuff left over from atom-bomb manufacture and worked it out with that.”
“You said about a dozen scientists. I’ve only met three.”
“The others are taking a vacation. Their part is done, and they’re not needed now. They’ll all be back in a few days, to be here when the rocket goes off. The place will be overrun with scientists, reporters, and gosh knows who else.”
“I’ve really stepped into big doings,” Scotty
said
“Look. What happens if the thing doesn’t work?” “It has to,” Rick declared flatly. “It just has to. Dad says it will, and so do the others.” “But if it doesn’t?” Scotty persisted. “Then,” Rick said slowly, “the lab will be torn down, and the swellest, most wonderful gang of people in the world will have to break up and go back to teaching and things like that. But it can’t miss, Scotty! You wait and see.”
“If your dad and the others could help develop radar, they can do this. I’m convinced.” Scotty rumpled his black hair thoughtfully. “Look, Rick. I saw your face when you were talking to your father. You think those men were buying up the tubes to keep you from getting one, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“But how did they know you were going toNewark to get a tube?”
“I’d like to know,” Rick replied soberly.
Scotty walked to the window. “It’s raining,” he said. “Say, is that the lab over in back of the orchard?”
“That’s right.”
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“There’s a light on in there.”
“Probably Dad or one of the others working on the control panel. Want to go over? I can show you through the lab.”
“And how! I want to see this moon rocket.”
They went downstairs and out into the warm darkness of the orchard. The rain was letting up, so they didn’t need coats.
“Someone’s in the radiation room,” Rick said. His voice was loud in the darkness.
As he spoke, the light went out. Then they heard a door slam, followed by the sound of running feet.
“Someone’s running away from there!” Scotty exclaimed. He pulled a pencil flashlight from his pocket and shot the beam through the trees. For an instant, the moving light shone squarely into Rick’s eyes, blinding him.