Rocket Jumper

by John Blaine

  support it once the harness was in place.

  Most of the rocket belt was built from readily available materials. The hardest part was machining the nozzles and swivel parts, because they had to be made of stainless steel-as did the tanks. The corrosive peroxide would wreck anything less durable. Now the belt was finished, most of the work was over, and the fun was beginning.

  Rick made his tethered flights on schedule, with the scientists as flight crew. After the third flight he disassembled the sticky handgrip before lunch. As he worked, his tension grew. Flying the rocket belt with safety lines attached was one thing, but free flight was something else. He was confident the belt would work, and that he could fly. But ... it was an awfully big but. If he lost his nerve and his balance for one second, he could crash, maybe jet-propelled. The secret was in how he moved his body, because control of the belt was strictly a matter of body balance. The swiveling nozzles controlled the direction of thrust, but could not help in keeping him stable. Only body balance could do that.

  After lunch, at his mother’s insistence, he went to his room and stretched out. He knew she was right.

  He would be more relaxed if he could rest, but he was sure rest was impossible. He could only go through the motions.

  To his own astonishment, he fell into a dreamless sleep, and awoke an hour later with Scotty shaking him. Rick sat up and blinked. Scotty was in scuba gear, needing only the tanks and regulator to complete the diving-gear-advertisement-look that the mid-season swimsuit and helmet gave him.

  “The gang’s at the beach, Rick. Let’s go.”

  He was on his feet in an instant. “Okay. Be there in five minutes.”

  He splashed water on his face and ran a comb through his hair, then got into his padded Arctic underwear, jumper, and boots. He grabbed his crash helmet and hurried to the lab. Hartson Brant was already dressed in a coverall of clear plastic, ready to help with fueling.

  Rick took another coverall and climbed into it, then he and the scientist put on plastic gloves and headgear. They added plastic goggles, and ended up looking like creatures from another planet. The outfits were necessary in case any of the highly corrosive peroxide spilled.

  It was hot in the protective garments. Rick spoke through the filtered mouthpiece of his head cover.

  “Ready.”

  There were two large tanks in the lab room assigned to Rick for his experiment. One was filled with the hydrogen peroxide, and the other with nitrogen.

  Hartson Brant connected a line to the nitrogen tank, then opened a valve atop the tank slightly and let the nitrogen drive normal air out of the line. While the nitrogen still hissed through, he connected the end of the line to an inlet valve on top of the peroxide tank. The pressure of the nitrogen would drive the peroxide into the belt tanks.

  Rick, meanwhile, connected one end of another line to a valve just above the nozzle on one belt fuel tank. He had left the belt with its tanks full of nitrogen. Now he opened the valve and let the nitrogen clear air from the line, then he connected it to the outlet valve on the peroxide tank.

  Filling the rocket-belt tanks with nitrogen served two purposes. First, the inert gas prevented any small Page 8

  amount of peroxide still in the tanks from corroding the metal. Second, when the peroxide flowed into the fuel tanks, it would compress the nitrogen, which was now only slightly pressurized. The compressed gas would then help to drive the peroxide from the tanks again during flight.

  Rick knelt next to the belt and signaled. Hartson Brant opened valves and the peroxide flowed until a gauge on the peroxide tank told him the pressure was equal on both sides of the line-in peroxide tank and fuel tank-and no more fuel would flow.

  “Ready, Rick.”

  Rick opened the valve on the other tank, then swiftly disconnected the fuel line and slapped it in place on the valve. He had practiced it so often without fuel flowing that only a drop of peroxide escaped. As Hartson Brant opened his valve again, Rick dropped a water-soaked sponge on the spot. He squeezed, and the water diluted the peroxide to a safe mixture, not unlike that used for an antiseptic-or to turn a brunette to a blonde.

  Rick had marveled at the versatility of hydrogen peroxide. In a 90 percent mixture it could drive a rocket. In mixtures of only a few percent peroxide and water, it could serve as an antiseptic or bleach. It could corrode flesh, or heal it, all depending on how much water was mixed with it.

  When both fuel tanks were full, he rechecked all valves, swished a wet mop across the concrete floor to catch any peroxide that might have spilled unnoticed, then got out of his plastic protective outfit. Hartson Brant was already free of the clinging garment and wiping his face.

  Together, they lifted the belt into the wagon Rick had modified for lugging his scuba gear around, then pulled it through the lab door and started for the beach.

  Scotty was already in the water in his scuba gear. Hobart Zircon was waiting offshore in one of the island’s two motorboats, and Tony Briotti was just coming around the cliff below the lab in the other one.

  The Spindrift family of scientists and wives were waiting on the beach. They called their wishes for good luck to Rick, but stayed out of the way.

  Mrs. Brant gave her son a hug and, after the fashion of all mothers, said unnecessarily, “Be careful, Rick.”

  “I will,” he assured her.

  Scotty came out of the water and removed his swim fins. Zircon and Briotti nosed their boats into shore.

  Shannon and Winston went to join them while Scotty and Hartson Brant lifted the heavy belt for Rick to put on, then checked everything carefully while he buckled in.

  Barby was carrying the one extra piece of equipment he needed for the flight. It was a razor-sharp Swedish hunting knife that could cut through the heavy leather belts, like a wire going through soft cheese.

  She snapped the knife sheath into place, handy to his right hand, then gave him a quick hug. She didn’t say anything.

  Rick winked at her affectionately. He and Barby often fought like cat and dog-or brother and sister-and he teased her unmercifully now and then. But secretly he was very proud of his sister. She was smart, and she had nerve. And when anything serious was afoot, she was 100 percent in his corner, and no questions asked. He knew Scotty and Jan were on his side, too, all the way. No matter how much they Page 9

  might disagree among themselves-and sometimes the disagreements were pretty outspoken-they were a loyal, close-knit group. The same was true of the whole Spindrift gang.

  Jan waited until Barby had attached his knife, then she handed him something soft and furry. “I’m not superstitious, Rick, and neither are you, but . . .”

  “It won’t hurt and it might help,” Rick finished. “Thanks, Jan. I’ll bring it back dry and unharmed.”

  “Be sure you do,” she said, then walked away with Barby.

  Rick looked at the rabbit’s foot and tucked it into his belt. If only it worked as well as the four-leaf clover.

  “Check list,” Hartson Brant said.

  It was shorter, because no safety ropes were involved. Scotty checked the movement of the nozzles and made sure they were clear, then ran for Zircon’s boat while Hartson Brant rechecked harness and safety helmet.

  “Ready, Rick.”

  Feeling like the famous Sinbad with the Old Man of the Sea weighing him down, Rick walked to the edge of the water.

  Tony Briotti, withShannon aboard, was already a hundred yards out from the beach, drifting slowly.

  Zircon, with Winston and Scotty aboard, headed out to a station a hundred yards seaward of Briotti.

  Scotty was pulling his flippers on.

  Hartson Brant produced a pistol from his pocket. It was loaded with blanks. “Stick to the flight plan, Rick. I’ll signal at fifteen-second intervals.”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  Rick wiped moist palms on his legs, then gripped the handgrips firmly. “Say when.”

  The scientist had his stopwatch ready.“Any time, Rick. Go
od flying.”

  Rick took a deep breath and slowly opened the throttle. Thrust built rapidly, to the accompanying screaming hiss of steam. The tanks lightened, and the crutch tops lifted under his armpits. He kept thrust building and lifted from the sand. He kept the ascent steady until he estimated thirty feet altitude,then throttled back just enough to hold himself there. He experimented with body balance, and found it was not difficult to change direction or position if he didn’t move too abruptly or hard.

  A shot sounded. Fifteen seconds. He turned the left grip and the nozzles swiveled upward. Rick increased thrust slightly, then added more as he began to lose altitude. He drifted outward from the beach, added thrust, and picked up speed.

  It was great! As Barby would say, it was the greatest thing since peanut butter. He saw the boats in position to make a run for him if he dropped into the water, and in a sudden moment of insight he knew they would not be needed. He was master of his gadget!

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  He slowed his speed and came to a hovering position above the water. The gun sounded. Time half gone. With a twist of his shoulders he turned around, facing the beach again. Both hands moved and he sped back to position over the beach, arriving with seconds to spare. He used them to make a complete circle over the heads of the watchers, knowing that he was violating the program plan, but confident enough to do it.

  The gun sounded. He didn’t check his forward speed, but decreased thrust smoothly. It was like a slow-motion jump from a second-story window. When five feet above the sandy beach, he lowered the thrust nozzles again and his descent became vertical. He checked it to almost zero, and landed like a feather. Perfect! He let out a wild yell of sheer delight. The Plumber’s Nightmare was a complete success!

  CHAPTER III

  Expedition to Excitement

  Parnell Winston was a big man with bushy black eyebrows, like furry awnings over a pair of exceptionally keen eyes. His field was cybernetics, and he was a famous specialist in design and operation of control systems, whether for big rockets or microminiature gadgets.

  He congratulated Rick on the successful free flight, then added, “I’m having a small meeting in the library in thirty minutes. Can you and Scotty join me?”

  “We’ll be there,” Rick agreed, and Scotty nodded.

  As the boys cleaned and stowed the rocket belt, Rick wondered aloud what Winston had in mind. The last time the scientist had called a meeting, Rick and Scotty had ended up inEgypt , where they had become involved in the adventure of The Egyptian Cat Mystery.

  “It’s probably something simple, like automating your rocket belt to fly without a passenger,” Scotty said with a grin.

  “There’s nothing like finding out,” Rick said. “Let’s move a little faster.”

  They finished putting everything in its place, and Rick rechecked the fuel and gas cylinders to be certain the valves were fully closed. He noted there was only enough peroxide for one more flight. Tomorrow he and Scotty would have to go to the chemical supply plant nearNewark to get some more.

  Barby and Jan were waiting on the Brant front porch overlooking theAtlantic .

  “Can you fly us to Whiteside?” Barby asked.

  “Maybe.But first we have a meeting with Winston.”

  “I knew it,” Barby said grimly. “I just knew it,Come on, Jan. We’re going to that meeting, too.”

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  “We weren’t invited,” Jan replied gently.

  “We will be,” Barby said. “Leave it to me.”

  Winston was not alone. John Gordon, who had been home for a week on leave from his rocket and missile work inNevada , was waiting too. The boys walked into the library and took seats.

  Rick watched the door. Sure enough, Barby and Jan appeared. They didn’t enter, though. Barby just leaned against the doorframe and Jan took up a position slightly behind her. Rick smothered a grin. He knew precisely what his sister had in mind.

  “We have a project,” Winston began. “I’m going out toNevada with John.”

  “ToScarletLake?”Scotty asked.

  That was the rocket and missile test range where the two boys had worked with Gordon one summer, and Rick had gotten an unexpected rocket ride, compliments of a criminal who called himself “The Earth-man.”

  “NotScarletLakethis time,” Gordon replied. “My part of the project is at a new area near Indian Springs. Parnell’s is at Jackass Flats.”

  Rick sat upright. Jackass Flats, within the Atomic Energy Commission’s Nevada Test Site, was where nuclear reactors for space propulsion were tested.

  “Do you want us?” Rick demanded.

  “We do,” Winston agreed.“If you’re willing to go.”

  “We’re willing,” Scotty said instantly. “How do we do it?”

  “Lomac is the contractor,” John Gordon explained. “I’ve already talked to them, and they’d be delighted to have you back. Your job would be to run one of the remote instrument stations.”

  The boys had worked forLogan and Macklin, general contractors, on the last trip toNevada . The firm was known as Lomac among the rocket personnel atScarletLake .

  “Would we live at the test site or Indian Springs?” Rick asked.

  “Neither.” Parnell Winston avoided looking at the girls in the doorway. “I thought we’d all take cabins at Aspen Lodge. It’s cooler on the mountain at night.”

  There was a sound of suppressed fury from the doorway, then Barby marched into the library. She faced Winston.

  “Dr. Winston,” she said with false calm, “I wish to remind you of something.”

  Winston’s blue eyes met the girl’s angry ones. He looked innocent as a shaggy puppy.“Of course, Barbara. What is it?”

  “In this very room,” Barby stated emphatically, “when you were taking the boys toEgypt , you promised Page 12

  that the very next expedition you were on would include Jan and me.”

  Rick remembered very well, and he knew Winston did, too. Furthermore, he knew the scientist did not make promises lightly.

  “I certainly did say that,” Winston agreed. “But you must recognize my dilemma.”

  “What dilemma?” Jan asked from the doorway.

  “I would like to take you, but I must consider my responsibility. You are, very obviously, two quite lovely young ladies.”

  It was a statement with which Rick agreed, but he thought to himself, “Flattery will get you nowhere this time, Dr. Winston.”

  However, it had thrown Barby a little off-balance. She said, a bit uncertainly, “We do appreciate the compliment, don’t we, Jan? But what does that have to do with taking us?”

  “Extremely low humidity and strong winds, plus heat over a 100 degrees, are very bad for complexions.

  How would I ever forgive myself if I brought you back looking twenty years older?”

  “And that’s not all,” Gordon added. “Add rattlesnakes, lizards, horned toads, perpetual dust.”

  “All this plusLas Vegas?”Jan asked. She was quite serious, except that Rick saw the twinkle in her dark eyes.

  “Very wicked place,” Winston reproved. “Not for young ladies. Suppose you developed callouses from pulling slot-machine levers? Or became addicted to gambling?”

  “We can’t gamble,” Barby said reasonably. “We’re too young. Dr. Winston, you promised!”

  A new voice broke in from the doorway. “He certainly did, Barby, and we’re going to hold him to it.”

  Kate Winston, the scientist’s attractive young wife, stood there with Back’s mother.

  Barby could hardly believe her ears. She looked at Winston warily. “Are we going to hold you to it?”

  Winston shrugged. “If you insist on facing the perils of the desert plusLas Vegas , who am I to hold back?”

  “Besides,” Mrs. Winston contributed, “I’m going, too, and both your mothers have already given permission.”

  Barby ran across the room and hugged her mother, Jan, and Mrs. Winston, then hurried back and gave both
scientists a kiss. Then she whirled to face Rick. “You knew about this and never said a word, you .

  . . you . . .”

  Bick held up a hand.“Stop. I didn’t know a thing, and neither did Scotty.” He didn’t really mind, either.

  The girls wouldn’t be able to work, and that meant they wouldn’t be in his hair or Scotty’s by day. They would spend the days swimming, or horseback riding, or maybe sailing onLake Mead . He knew they would enjoyNevada . Not long ago he would have shuddered at the idea of his unpredictable sister joining a project expedition, but Jan had been a steadying influence, and Barby was growing up. She and Page 13

  Jan were kind of fun to have around-sometimes.

  “When do we go?” Jan asked.

  “Next Monday. That gives you four days to pack everything you want to take into one suitcase.”

  Winston winked at the boys.

  Barby didn’t see the wink. ‘Impossible,” she said flatly.“Both clothes forLas Vegas, and for the desert?

  In one suitcase?”

  “Stop teasing Barby,” Mrs. Winston ordered firmly. “Don’t worry, girls. You’ll have plenty of room and still be within airline weight.”

  Winston nodded. “She’s right, Barbara. I’ll stop teasing. You and Jan get together with Kate and work things out.”

  Hick had an idea. “Why couldn’t Scotty and I fly out in the Sky Wagon? That would give us an extra couple of hundred pounds.” He could even take the rocket belt. Maybe some of his old friends atScarletLake could give him some ideas on improving it.

  “No reason why not,” John Gordon said. “I can get permission for you to land at Indian Springs.”

  Rick grinned. He loved to fly, as did Scotty. He had learned through a government program for young people, and had then bought his first plane, a Cub, by selling shares in his delivery service to the staff scientists. He ran errands for them to the mainland, acted as a taxi service, and generally made himself useful with the little plane. When it was wrecked, as related in Stairway to Danger, reward money had enabled him to buy the bigger, faster Sky Wagon.