Mystery of the Third Mine

by Robert Lowndes

  Pete agreed enthusiastically, though he was somewhat puzzled. It wasn’t like Clay to make a bet unless he thought he had a fair chance of winning. Yet he noticed that his father kept going at the same easy pace, and was just as far behind when they quit for the day—a rather short one, Pete thought.

  But the next morning he opened his eyes feeling as if he’d fallen into a stamping machine. He managed to get out of bed without groaning, but couldn’t help wincing when Clay patted his shoulder and said, “Let’s go, champ,”

  Clay hadn’t paid any attention to Pete’s discomfort, but as he was taking his suit down from the wall, he observed, “Low gravity’s a very deceptive thing, partner. Lots of folks come out here thinking they can go twice or three times as fast and hard as they could on Mars—and they’re right in a way. You can. But gravity or no gravity, muscles strain when you put too much of a load on them. The difference is that you feel it quicker in normal conditions,7'

  Peter staggered out to the cliffside that day with but one thought in mind: to move as little and as slowly as possible. After what seemed ages, he had his hopper filled and found that it was lunchtime. That night Clay rubbed him down with liniment, and Pete spent the following day in his bunk.

  Clay’s voice broke into Pete’s thoughts now. "Ship coming!” He looked around the sky and saw the lights of a rocket somewhat larger than the Claymore. Perhaps this was the ship that had made the signs they’d found. They watched it land, over in the same area.

  “Claim jumpers or pilferers?” Peter asked. "Wouldn’t be pilferers; they know someone’s here. Might be jumpers, but I doubt it. Never heard of them attacking unless a man was alone. Anyway, they’d come up with their lights shielded, and make for the other side. . . . Might be prospecting, though.” “Can they do that here?”

  “Yup,” said Clay, “perfectly all right. We don’t own this whole asteroid, partner. What we have is a galena claim in this area, and that covers any other minerals in the same location. Same thing with Glen’s mine. If Glen’s fissure-rock extended into this area, or our limestone reached into his, we wouldn’t argue over it. We have an agreement on that. But they’re wasting their time prospecting here. Glen and I searched the whole asteroid, and there’re only two mines here.” “Shall we go over and meet them?” Pete asked. “May as well; it might save misunderstandings.” He switched on “general” and called, “Hello the ship! Hello the ship!”

  There was no answer.

  “Probably getting out now, and haven’t their communicators on.” He started off toward the valley in short jumps that, nonetheless, took him in long curves over the surface. Peter followed.

  “Hello! Hello!” repeated Clay.

  “Hello!” came an answer in their suit radios. “What are you two doing here?”

  “Alan and Peter Clay,” Alan replied. “We have a galena claim over yonder. You fellows looking for something?”

  “Joseph Vincennes and crew,” came back the answer. “You re off-base, Clay. I have the claim on this entire asteroid.”

  It was possible to claim an entire asteroid, Clay knew. This was done in the cases of very small rocks in the sky, although not usually with asteroids more than a few miles in diameter. Clay might have claimed all of 20-47, had he and Abend not met each other while prospecting here.

  “No good, Vincennes,” he answered. “The section you’re on right now is open. I’ve got no kick coming whatever you find there, although I’m sure you won’t find anything. These limestone rocks are mine, and my friend Abend has the copper veins two miles yonder.”

  Another voice cut in, one of the men behind Vincennes. “Don’t argue with the pilferer; he’s got no right here.”

  “Don’t call me pilferer’!” snapped Clay. “I’ve got a galena claim here, properly filed, and I can prove it.”

  “He’s being stubborn,” came that other speaker again. “Shall we shove him off?”

  “I'll handle this," answered Vincennes. “You, Clay— I'll apologize for the ‘pilferer’ since you say you re not. I’ll take your word that you’ve made an honest mistake. But the fact remains, mister, that you two have no right here and you’ll have to leave. You’re on my property, and it’s my right to put you off by force if you refuse to go quietly.”

  “You’re not bluffing me,” said Clay. “I don’t know what kind of fancy claim jumping you birds have worked out, but whatever it is, you’re not fooling me.” Vincennes called, “All right, Hailey.” To the Clays, he added, “If you two will look up at the port, you will see that you’re covered by a longman. . . . Saul, I think these men need a lesson; throw their ship off, and throw their equipment after them.”

  Peter was puzzled. “What does he mean?”

  “Never see this happen before, kid? You’ll find out. It will be somewhat inconvenient, I’m afraid. Three men can easily lift your ship in this gravity and give it a push—enough to start it floating off into space. Once it's clear, we’ll pick you up and send you after it. You have candles, I see. Well, you'll pick up some experience in spacesuit navigation getting your equipment and making it to your ship.

  “And remember this, Mister Clay. I have every right to do what I’m doing. In fact, I could have shot you down, had I wanted to, and still been in the right. All right, fellows, get going.”

  “How long will it take?” Peter asked his father, with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

  “Not too long, I’m afraid—no more than fifteen minutes.”

  “I’d say that was a good estimate,” agreed Vincennes. “If you want to reconsider, and leave in an orderly manner on your own, I'll call my men back.”

  “We don t have to stand for this,” Pete burst out suddenly, as a thought struck him. “We can call Ezzard—the Miners’ Aid!”

  “That’s right, partner,” Clay answered. “I’m a fool for forgetting. . . . Vincennes—we’ll go quietly, since you have the jump on us, but we re calling the Ama Guard.”

  “Which will do you no good whatsoever,” replied Vincennes, “The guard enforces legal claims.” “Which ours is!” retorted Clay.

  Vincennes called out: “Saul! Come back, all of you. Never mind their ship. . . . Clay, I apologize if I’ve appeared arbitrary, but I have had a bit of unpleasantness with jumpers recently. If you’re willing to call in the guard, that tells me you believe you’re in the right. I won t try to force an honest man. Will you wait for the guard before you do anything further?” Clay laughed. “You’re a smooth one, Vincennes. Will I wait for the guard? You’re right I will! Well, since you give me credit for being honest, I’ll return the compliment.”

  “Agreed, then. Do you want to call them, or shall I?” “I’ll call them,” Clay said. He sent out the signal, repeating it and waiting, catching Pete’s eyes and signaling with his eyelids. Peter read in the blinks, “This strange. Hard to believe so simple. Why guard handy?”

  Clay stopped blinking as a voice sounded in his communicator: “Miners’ Aid, Captain Ezzard speaking. Where are you?”

  Clay started to blink again as he gave their location. “Gets stranger. Keep eyes peeled. Vincennes too willing about we call help. Why guard so near right now? Looks like trick!”

  Chapter 4 Protection

  PETER was beginning to think that perhaps Glen Abend wasn’t as much of an alarmist as he’d seemed. The very existence of the Asteroid Miners’ Association Guard proved the need for it. That meant there must be a great deal more illegal activity going on than most people suspected.

  As if Clay had been reading Pete s thoughts, he said, “Maybe there’s some sort of organized claim jumping and pilfering going on."

  They were talking now, which meant that Vincennes and his crew would overhear.

  “You’re right about that, Clay,” confirmed the other man. “No one is sure yet, but all the evidence points to some sort of organization. That’s why I was so touchy when I found you here.”

  “But I don’t see how they could get away with it,” Peter protested.
“Every time we bring in a cargo, we have to identify ourselves and our claim.” He paused as a thought struck him. “That proves us right, Mr. Vincennes—the records back in the assaying office,” Vincennes’ whole tone had changed. He said, not unpleasantly: “No, my young friend, I’m afraid it doesn’t prove as much as you think. The most it could prove was your honest belief. The assaying office hasn't been as careful as it might be; I’ve noticed that. I was there a few days ago when a miner brought in his first cargo of manganese. He identified it as coming from his claim on 29-82, and the clerk only checked for the existence of a manganese claim on that asteroid. He didn't ask for proof on the owner s name or filing date. I watched, and saw him enter the claim on his asteroid chart. The next time that miner comes in, the clerk will look at his chart and see that a manganese claim is listed for 29-82. As long as the same person keeps coming back—or someone saying he's working for that person—the only check will be by that incomplete record.”

  Peter stared, and gasped, “But. . . why any pilferer could say he was working for the man he stole from! So could a jumper.”

  “That,” said Vincennes, “is just what has been happening, I believe.”

  “Don’t see how things got so sloppy,” objected Clay. “Do you suppose the clerk could be getting something on the side?”

  “This is possible, but there's a better explanation for the easygoing way the office operates. I've been out here nearly twenty years, Mr. Clay. Things were much different then. There were fewer miners; Cerestown was brand new; and there was plenty of easily found mineral for everyone who came along.

  “In those days, there was no such thing as pilfering

  and claim jumping. You see, people usually don't become dishonest unless they feel they have to be. So long as there was more than enough to go around, and not too much trouble finding it, then a mans simple word was good enough.

  "But it's become rougher in twenty years. There’s still unguessable wealth out here, still bonanzas up in the sky. I don't think they'll be played out in a couple of hundred years—not even if there's a hundred times as many people out hunting them. The ships and the equipment we have today are better than they were, but not enough better so that prospectors can start out with minimum equipment and find a good strike on the fringes of the Belt. The heart of the Belt is still unsafe, to say the least.

  “I have with me,” he indicated his ship and crew, “equipment for depth mining. It took me a number of years, working the way you two are working, to get this equipment. If there hadn't been galena right on the surface of this asteroid, you two would have kept on going."

  “Yes, I see your point,” Clay agreed. “So I guess that's a good part of the explanation. These here pilferers and jumpers started out honest, but they couldn’t find anything. I guess they didn’t want to give up, so they decided to—well, at first maybe just borrow a little mineral from someone who had plenty. They probably felt sorry about it and figured they’d make a strike with what they got this way and pay it all back somehow.”

  “That sounds very likely, Clay. In some cases, one little theft or two was all that was needed. But some still had bad luck; or perhaps they found that this was much easier than grubbing around, looking for a claim of their own. However it happened, it has happened, and now we've had to set up a police force.” “20-47! 20-47!” came a voice in their suits. “Ezzard speaking. Were coming in for a landing. Signal me.” "I'll signal,” said Vincennes, and spoke to the crewman still on his ship.

  “Is he going to land?” asked Peter.

  “Looks that way,” Clay said. “We have a buzzer in our mine, you know. Well . . . Vincennes probably has an extra one on his ship. He’ll turn it on and tell Ezzard which band to tune to. Then the ship will be able to come down in this area, if they can curve in right.”

  “They must have been pretty close, from what you’ve told me about big ships landing.”

  “Yeah. They must have been. Had they been far away, they’d have arrived here quicker, but they couldn’t slow down enough to land. The best they could do would be to take up an orbit the way they did on 34-91. The closer you are to your destination, the slower you have to travel if you aren’t going to overshoot your mark. They’ve probably been coasting along on little more than a kicker-blast.”

  The guard ship came down like a feather, but even so it scraped along for quite a few lengths. Lights blazed from all the ports, illuminating most of the area. Vincennes and the Clays started over to the guard ship, and arrived just about the time that Ezzard and three others came out.

  There was no heated argument now. Clay and Vincennes made their statements quietly, matter-of-factly, and Ezzard made no comment until both had finished.

  “Since you have agreed to accept the guard’s decision, gentlemen,” he said, “I shall simply ask you to display your markers. Shall we proceed to your ship, Mr. Clay?”

  The sealed, buried "marker” was the first sign that claim jumping and pilfering had become part of the asteroid-miners’ background. When Alan Clay first went to the Claims Office upon his arrival at Cerestown, he was given an unsealed marker and “finder.” They told him that a copy of his filing should go in each after he’d made a claim. Both units would then be sealed. The marker should be buried on location, a few feet beneath the surface.

  Within the marker was a small vibrator unit, which would be activated by a second unit he carried with him—the finder. The Claims Office also had a record of the wave length of his finder, so that another could be made in case of loss or damage to the original. Finders were kept on the miner’s ship when not in use.

  Clay was cautioned not to bury his marker within too easy reach. Markers could be tampered with or stolen, Vincennes and Captain Ezzard accompanied the Clays back to their ship. The miner turned out to be a stocky man with a quiet manner belying his initial curtness. He looked around briefly, as Clay took down the black metal box that was his finder, and said, "A neat ship, Mr. Clay.”

  Alan Clay didn’t answer; he nodded shortly and pressed the finder’s activating-stud. The gadget operated pretty much in the manner of a Geiger counter. It gave forth a clicking sound which became stronger as the marker was approached, and should become a steady buzz when directly over or beside it.

  Pete looked at Vincennes carefully and thought: I'll bet he could draw a map of this room when he leaves. Dad seems to be warming up to him, but I don’t like him any better now than I did when he was going to throw us off.

  His thoughts broke off as he realized that no clicks were coming out of the finder. Clay took his hand off the instrument.

  “Is it heating?” asked Ezzard, bending forward with a frown. “Turn it off—quick!”

  “Of all times for the consarned dingus to act up!” “It had better be opened,” Ezzard said. “It must have been damaged, or might be defective. Have you used it before?”

  “Just once, testing,” replied Clay. “That was when I buried my marker. It worked all right, then.”

  “And it didn’t get hot?”

  "Just sort of warm; I figured that was natural.” “What?” snapped Vincennes. “Didn’t they tell you at the Claims Office to return it if it heated?”

  Clay looked at him for a moment. “No—no one said anything at all about that.”

  Ezzard looked at the big miner for a moment, and Peter Wished he could have seen the guardsman’s face. Could some sort of signal have passed between them? Somehow, this all seemed prearranged. Ezzard sighed, and said, “We’ll have to drill it open.”

  The finder was shielded with tough plastic which only a drill could dent, but once punctured, the covering peeled off easily. Peter watched the operation with a tight feeling in his stomach. He wasn’t surprised when he saw that the vibrator was now a partially fused lump of metal. Clay poked into the pocket on the inner surface of the shielding where the duplicate of his filing was carried. A sheet of plastic he’d filled out in stylus, and which the Claims Office had stamped, was still
there; but the surface of the sheet was blistered. Nothing was readable.

  Ezzard s breath whooshed out between his teeth as he turned to Vincennes, "What about your marker?” With a dazed feeling, Peter followed the others to Vincennes' ship. His thoughts were too numbed by the blow of what had just happened to appreciate the larger rocket’s furnishings. He scarcely remembered putting on his suit, shuffling over to a larger rocket, then entering and accepting Vincennes’ sympathetic hospitality. They took off their spacesuits, and Peter looked at Clay. Alan blinked briefly, “Easy, partner; have to sit this out.”

  Vincennes' crew, all of them ordinary-looking men, stood around and watched while the man activated his finder. Peter touched the instrument as it started clicking; there was no warmth.

  Vincennes opened his finder, took out his duplicate filing and handed it to Ezzard.

  “This is in order, gentlemen,” he said quietly, handing it to Clay. The entry showed that the entire Asteroid 20-47 was claimed by Joseph Vincennes. It was duly stamped by the Claims Office.

  “Just a moment,” objected Clay. “It says here that you filed on 18/7/48—seventh day, of the eighteenth month, in the forty-eighth year of the Martian Commonwealth. But I filed five months earlier—13/11/48. That gives me a prior claim. You can still claim anything but my galena mine, and Glen Abend’s copper mine. He filed the same day as I did.”

  “Gentlemen,” interrupted Ezzard, “I do not wish to give offense, or call anyone dishonest, but this state of affairs cannot be accepted. We have all seen that Mr. Vincennes has made a filing; we have not actually seen proof of Mr. Clay’s. Under the circumstances, however, it is only just to accept Mr. Clay’s good faith and give him a chance to produce evidence.”