The Golden Age of Science Fiction Novels Vol 05

by Anthology

  He pulled a tube from his belt, held it above his head, and thumbed the striker mechanism. The tube flared, pushing downward on his hand.

  He held steady and plummeted feet first toward the rock.

  Santos was only a few seconds behind him. Rip saw the corporal's tube flare and knew that everything was all right, at least for the moment, even though the asteroid was still a long way down.

  He looked upward at the Connie cruiser and saw that it was moving. Its exhaust increased in length and deepened slightly in color as Rip watched.

  Then he saw side jets flare out from the projecting control tubes and knew the ship was maneuvering. Rip realized suddenly that the cruiser was going to pick up the crippled assault boat.

  He hadn't expected such a humane move, after his first meeting with the Connie cruiser when the commander had been willing to sacrifice his own men. This time, however, there was a difference, he saw. The commander would lose nothing by picking up the assault boat, and he would save a few men. Rip supposed that manpower meant something, even to Consops.

  His propulsion tube reached Brennschluss, and for a few moments he watched, checking his speed and direction. Then, before he lit off another tube, he checked his chronometer. The illuminated dial registered 23:01. They had just four minutes to get to the asteroid!

  He spoke swiftly. "Waste no time in lighting off, Santos. That nuclear charge goes in four minutes!"

  Rip pulled a tube from his belt, held it overhead, and triggered it. His flight through space speeded up, but he wasn't at all sure they would make it. He turned up his helmet communicator to full power and called, "Koa, can you hear me?"

  The sergeant major's reply was faint in his helmet. "I hear you weakly. Do you hear me?"

  "Same way," Rip replied. "Get this, Koa. Don't fail to explode that charge at twenty-three-oh-five. Can you see us?"

  The reply was very slightly stronger. "I will explode the charge as ordered, Lieutenant. We can see a pair of rocket exhausts, but no boats. Is that you?"

  "Yes. We're coming in on propulsion tubes."

  Koa waited for a long moment, then asked, "Sir, what if you're not with us by twenty-three-oh-five?"

  "You know the answer," Rip retorted crisply.

  Of course Koa knew. The nuclear blast would send Rip and Santos spinning into outer space, perhaps crippled, burned, or completely irradiated. But the lives of two men couldn't delay the blast that would save the lives of eight others, not counting prisoners.

  Rip estimated his speed and course and the distance to the asteroid. He was increasingly sure that they wouldn't make it, and the knowledge was like the cold of space in his stomach. It would be close but not close enough. A minute would make all the difference.

  For a few heartbeats he almost called Koa and told him to wait that extra minute, to explode the nuclear charge at 23:06, at the very last second. But even Planeteer chronometers could be off by a few seconds, and he couldn't risk it. His men had to be given some leeway.

  He surveyed the asteroid. The nuclear charge was on his left side, pretty close to the sun line. At least he and Santos could angle to the right, to get as far away as possible.

  The edge of the asteroid's shadow was barely visible. That it was visible at all was due to the minute particles of matter and gas that surrounded the sun, even millions of miles out into space. He reduced helmet power and told Santos, "Angle to the right. Get as close to the edge of shadow as you can without being cooked."

  As an afterthought, he asked, "How many tubes do you have?"

  "One after this, sir. I had three."

  "Save the one you have left."

  Rip didn't know yet what use they would be, but it was always a good idea to have some kind of reserve.

  The Connie cruiser was sliding up to the crippled assault boat. Rip took a quick look, then shifted his hands and angled toward the edge of shadow. When he was within a few feet, he reversed the direction of the tube to keep from shooting out into the sunlight. A second or two later the tube burned out.

  Santos was several yards away and slightly above him. Rip saw that the Planeteer was all right and turned his attention back to the cruiser. It was close enough to the assault boat to haul it in with grappling hooks. The hooks emerged and engaged the torn metal of the boat, then drew it into the waiting port. The massive air door slid closed.

  The question was, would the Connie try to set his ship down on the asteroid? Rip grinned without mirth. Now would be a fine time. His chronometer showed a minute and a half to blast time.

  He took another look at his own situation. He and Santos were getting close to the asteroid, but there was still over a half mile of Earth distance to go. They would cover perhaps three-fourths of that distance before Koa fired the charge.

  He had a daring idea. How long could he and Santos last in direct sunlight? The effect of the sun in the open was powerful enough to make lead run like water. Their suits could absorb some heat, and the ventilating system could take care of quite a lot. They might last as much as three minutes, with luck.

  They had to take a risk with the full knowledge that the odds were against them. But if they didn't take the risk, the blast would push them outward from the asteroid--into full sunlight. The end result would be the same.

  "We're not going to make it, Santos," he began.

  "I know it, sir," Santos replied.

  Rip thought anyone with that much coolness and sheer nerve rated some kind of special treatment. And the young corporal had shown his ability time and time again. He said, "I should have known you knew, Sergeant Santos. We still have a slight chance. When I give the word, use an air bottle to push yourself into the sunlight. When I give the word again, light off your remaining tube."

  "Yessir," Santos replied. "Thank you for the promotion. I hope I live to collect the extra rating."

  "Same here," Rip agreed fervently. His eyes were on his chronometer, and with his free hand he took another air bottle. When the chronometer registered exactly one minute before blast time, he called, "Now!" He triggered the bottle and moved from shadow into glaring sunlight. A slight motion of the bottle turned him so his back was to the sun; then he used the remaining compressed air to push himself downward along the edge of shadow. The sun's gravity tugged at him.

  He pulled the last tube from his belt and held it ready while he watched his chronometer creep around. With five seconds to go, he called to Santos and fired it. Acceleration pushed at him.

  In the same moment, the nuclear charge exploded.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Ride the Planet!

  A mighty hand reached out and shoved Rip, sweeping him through space like a dust mote. He clutched his propulsion tube with both hands and fought to hold it steady. He swiveled his head quickly, searching for Santos, and saw the corporal a dozen rods away.

  From the far horizon of the asteroid the incandescent fire of the nuclear blast stretched into space, turning from silver to orange to red as it cooled.

  Rip knew they had escaped the heat and blast of the explosion, but now there was a question of how much prompt radiation they had absorbed. During the first few seconds, a nuclear blast sprayed gamma radiation and neutrons in all directions. He and Santos certainly had gotten plenty. But how much? His lower-level colorimeter had long since reached maximum red, and his high-level dosimeter could be read only on a measuring device.

  Meanwhile, he had other worries. Radiation had no immediate effect. At worst, it would be a few hours before he felt any symptoms.

  As he sized up his position and that of the asteroid, he let out a yell of triumph. His gamble would succeed! He had estimated that going into the direct gravity pull of the sun at the proper moment and lighting off their last tubes would put them into a landing position. The asteroid was moving rapidly, into a new orbit that would intersect the course he and Santos were on. He had planned on the asteroid's change of orbit. In a minute at most they would be back on the rock.

  His p
ropulsion tube flared out, and he released it. It would travel along with him, but his hands would be free.

  Then he saw something else. The blast had started the asteroid turning!

  He reacted instantly. Turning up his communicator he yelled, "Koa! The rock is spinning! Cut the prisoners loose, grab the equipment, and run for it! You'll have to keep running to stay in the shadow. If sunlight hits those fuel tanks or the rocket tubes, they'll explode!"

  Koa replied tersely, "Got it. We're moving."

  At least the Connie cruiser couldn't harm them now, Rip thought grimly. He looked for the cruiser and failed to find it for several seconds. It had moved. He finally saw its exhausts some distance away.

  He forgot his own predicament and grinned. The Connie cruiser had moved, but not because its commander had wanted to. It had been right in the path of the nuclear blast and had been literally shoved away.

  Then Rip forgot the cruiser. His suit ventilator was whining in the terrific heat, and his whole body was now bathed in perspiration. The sun was getting them. It would be only a short time until the ventilator overloaded and burned out. They had to reach the asteroid before then. The trouble was that there was nothing further he could do about it. He had only air bottles left, and their blast was so weak that the effect wouldn't speed him up much. Nevertheless, he called to Santos and directed him to use his bottles.

  Santos spoke up. "Sir, we're going to make it."

  In the same instant, Rip saw that they would land on the dark side. The asteroid was turning over and over. For a second he had the impression that he was looking at a turning globe of the earth, the kind used in elementary school back home. But this gray planet was scarcely bigger than the giant globe at the Space Council building on Terra.

  He knew he was going to hit hard. The way to keep from being hurt was to turn the vertical energy of his arrival into motion in another direction. As he swept down to the metal surface he started running, his legs pumping wildly in space. He hit with a bone-jarring thud, lost his footing and fell sideways, both hands cradling his helmet. He got to his feet instantly and looked for Santos.

  "You all right, sir?" Santos called anxiously. "I think the others are over there." He pointed.

  "We'll find them," Rip said. His hip hurt like fury from smashing against the unyielding metal, and the worst part was that he couldn't rub it. The blow had been strong enough to hurt through the heavy fabric and air pressure, but his hand wasn't strong enough to compress the suit. Just the same, he tried.

  And while he was trying, he found himself in direct sunlight!

  He had forgotten to run. Standing still on the asteroid meant turning with it, from darkness into sunlight and back again. He yelled at Santos and legged it out of there, moving in long, gliding steps. He regained the shadow and kept going.

  The first order of business was to stop the rock from turning. Otherwise they couldn't live on it.

  Rip knew that they had only one means of stopping the spin. That was to use the tubes of rocket fuel left over from correcting the course. They had three tubes left, but he didn't know if that was enough to do the job.

  Moving rapidly, he and Santos caught up to Koa and the Planeteers.

  The Connie prisoners were pretty well bunched up, gliding along like a herd of fantastic sheep. Their shepherds were Pederson, Nunez, and Dowst. The three Planeteers had a pistol in each hand. The spares were probably those taken from prisoners.

  The Planeteers were loaded down with equipment. A few Connie prisoners carried equipment, too.

  Trudeau had the rocket launcher and the remaining rockets. Kemp had his torch and two tanks of oxygen. Bradshaw had tied his safety line to the squat containers of chemical fuel for the torch and was towing them behind like strange balloons. The only trouble with that system, Rip thought, was that Bradshaw could stop, but the fuel would have a tendency to keep going. Unless the Englishman was skillful, his burden would drag him off his feet.

  Dominico had a tube of rocket fuel under each arm. The Italian was small, and the tubes were bulky. Each was about ten feet long and two feet in diameter. With any gravity or air resistance at all, the Italian couldn't have carried even one.

  Santos took the radiation detection instruments and the case with the astrogation equipment from Koa. Rip greeted his men briefly, then took his computing board and began figuring. He knew the men were glad he and Santos had made it. But they kept their greetings short. A spinning asteroid was no place for long and sentimental speeches.

  He remembered the dimensions of the asteroid and its mass. He computed its inertia, then figured out what it would take to overcome the inertia of the spin.

  The mathematics would have been simpler under normal conditions, but doing them on the run, trying to watch his step at the same time, made things a little complicated. He had to hold the board under his arm, run alongside Santos while the new sergeant held the case open, select the book he wanted, open it and try to read the tables by his belt light, and then transfer the data to the board.

  His ventilator had quieted down once he got into the darkness, but now it started whining slightly again because he was sweating profusely. Finally he figured out the thrust needed to stop the spin. Now all he had to do was compute how much fuel it would take.

  He had figures on the amount of thrust given by the kind of rocket fuel in the tubes. He also knew how much fuel each tube contained. But the figures were not in his head. They were on reference sheets.

  He collected the data on the fly, slowing down now and then to read something, until a yell from Santos or Koa warned that the sun line was creeping close. When he had all data noted on the board, he started his mathematics. He was right in the middle of a laborious equation when he stumbled over a thorium crystal. He went headlong, shooting like a rocket three feet above the ground. His board flew away at a tangent. His stylus sped out of his glove like a miniature projectile, and the slide rule clanged against his bubble.

  It happened so fast that neither Koa nor Santos had time to grab him. The action had given him extra speed, and he saw with horror that he was going to crash into Trudeau. He yelled, "Frenchy! Watch out!" Then he put both hands before him to protect his helmet. His hands caught the French Planeteer between the shoulders.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Visitors!

  Trudeau held tight to the launcher, but the rocket racks opened and spilled attack rockets into space. They flew in a dozen different directions. Trudeau gave vent to his feelings in colorful French.

  Koa and Santos laughed so hard they had trouble collecting the scattered equipment. Rip, slowed by his crash with Trudeau, got his feet under him again.

  When the asteroid turned into the sun, they still had not collected Rip's stylus and five of the attack rockets. The space pencil was the only thing that could write on the computing board. It had to be found. "Next time around," Rip called to the others. He then led the way full speed ahead until they reached the safety of shadow again.

  Rip suspected the stylus was somewhere above the rock and probably wouldn't return to the surface for some minutes. While he was wondering what to do, there was a chorus of yells. A rocket sped between the Planeteers and shot off into space.

  "Our own rockets are after us," Trudeau gasped. There hadn't been time to collect them all after Rip's unwilling attack on the Frenchman had scattered them. Now the sun was setting them off. Another flashed past, fortunately over their heads. The sun's heat was causing them to fire unevenly.

  "Three more to go," Koa called. "Watch out!"

  Only two went, and they were far enough away to offer no danger.

  Santos had been fishing around in the instrument case. Suddenly he produced another stylus. "It was under the sextant," he explained triumphantly.

  "If we get through this, I'll propose you for ten more stripes," Rip vowed. "We'll make you the highest ranking sergeant that ever made a private's life miserable."

  Working slowly but more safely, Rip f
igured that slightly more than two and a half tubes would do the trick.

  Now to fire them. That meant finding a thorium crystal properly placed and big enough. There were plenty of crystals, so that was no problem. The next step was for Kemp to cut holes with his torch, so that the thrust of the rocket fuel would be counter to the direction in which the asteroid was spinning.

  Rip explained to all hands what had to be done. The burden would fall on Kemp, who would need a helper. Rip took that job himself. He took one oxygen tank from Kemp. Koa took the other, leaving the torchman with only his torch.

  Then Rip took a container of chemical fuel from Bradshaw. Working while running, he lashed the two containers together with his safety line. Then he improvised a rope sling so they could hang on his back.