The Secret of Saturn’s Rings
By DONALD A. WOLLHEIM
Jacket illustration by Alex Schomburg
Only one scientist realized the danger that threatened Earth when the Terraluna Corporation started deep-core mining operations on the moon. Dr. Emanuel Rhodes and his teen-age son, Bruce, saw that continued blasting at the moon s core would weaken the satellite’s brittle structure to the extent that the small planet’s breakup would be assured. The subsequent bombardment of Earth by meteorites would put an end to man!
But Terraluna’s profit-hungry officials would not understand the scientist’s conclusions. It was for the sake of humanity that Dr. Rhodes and his son started for Saturn’s rings to prove to mankind that what had once been a hospitable and prosperous planet was now nothing more than a dangerous phenomenon.
Breathtakingly realistic in detail, this story of the Rhodes’ flight into outer space explodes with action, intrigue and suspense. Terraluna spies conspired to wreck their ship. Outposts of the huge corporation fired on the courageous little crew. And in the whirling maelstrom of rock that make up Saturn’s rings, danger and disaster lay in anxious wait. How Bruce outwitted the hostile elements to save his father, stranded helplessly on a bit of airless rock, leads to a surprise climax when the two discover ancient evidence of intelligent creatures. The relationship of their discovery to the Earth and its satellite presents a fascinating theory and space yarn that you won’t put down until the very last page.
THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY
Philadelphia and Toronto
The Author
Donald Wollheim is a science fiction pioneer. At the age of twelve he started collecting news and feature stories of interest about the solar system. At eighteen he wrote his first science fiction story. During the 1930's he assisted in some of the original U. S. rocket experiments. lie helped start the annual science fiction conventions and founded the Fantasy Amateur Press Association.
MA native New Yorker, a graduate of New York University, Mr. Wollheim has been at the center of the science fiction movement from the start. Publishers, as well as technicians, recognized his ability. Such well-known S. F. anthologies as Flight Into Space, Pocket Book of Science Fiction, and Science Fiction Reader carry his name as editor. And when he isn't writing or reading science fiction, he relaxes by browsing i through his collection of fantastic fiction (one of the country’s largest) or by training his telescope on the stars as an amateur astronomer.
The Secret of Saturn's Kings
BY DONALD A. WOLLHEIM
Jacket and Endpaper Designs by
Alex Schomburg
Cecile Matschat, Editor Carl Carmer, Consulting Editor
THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY
Philadelphia • Toronto
Copyright, 1954 By Donald A. Wollheim
Copyright in Great Britain and in the British Dominions and Possessions Copyright in the Republic of the Philippines
FIRST EDITION
Made in the United States of America
L. C. Card #54-5068
To my daughter Elizabeth
Galileo’s Demon
With the exception of Mercury and Venus, every planet in our solar system has at least one or more moons attending it, but one and only one planet has rings. That is Saturn, the sixth child of the sun in distance and the second largest, exceeded in size only by mighty Jupiter, its nearest neighbor sunward.
Though Saturn is one of the planets easily visible to the naked eye, and therefore one that has been known to men from the dawn of history, its mysterious and amazing rings were first discovered only when Galileo Galilei turned his newly invented telescope upon Saturn in the year 1610. This little crude spyglass was responsible for many astonishing discoveries such as the four largest moons of Jupiter, the crescent shape of Venus (at certain times of the year), the mountains of the moon, and many others, but the rings that encircled Saturn were easily the strangest sight of all—and became the only one that Galileo finally refused to admit!
When that pioneering astronomer first saw these rings they were presenting their flat, wide and glowing surface toward the Earth and were instantly noticeable. But the next time he looked, it was two years later and the planet had shifted its position in regard to Earth in such a way that only the very thin edge of the rings was facing us. Since this edge is only between fifty' and seventy miles thick, whereas the width of the rings is over forty thousand miles, Galileos small telescope simply couldn’t see the thin line that marked their existence. To the Italian scientist, the rings had simply vanished! Perhaps, he thought, they were never anything but a product of the imagination! Perhaps, he went on, the rings were only a trick of the Devil! He cried out, “Is it possible that some demon is making fun of me?” Never again would he dare look at Saturn, and to the day he died he refused to admit a belief in that which his own telescope had shown him in 1610!
But we know the rings exist, and, if conditions are right, they can be seen with even small hand telescopes or strong binoculars. The rings are believed to be composed of millions and millions of tiny fragments, particles of matter similar to the planets, save that instead of combining to form one sphere they remain loose and flowing around Saturn like endless streams of dust. The rings appear solid to the eye, but this is a deception. A few years ago an astronomer was able to observe a star as it moved behind the rings. Had the rings been solid, the star would have vanished in eclipse. But some of its glow continued to be seen even through the rings themselves! This gave proof that the rings are neither solid nor even too tightly packed. It also demonstrated that there could be no moonlets larger than three miles in diameter. Probably the ring-particles range between objects the size of one’s fist to midget moonlets of a half-mile or so in diameter.
Under the circumstances, it is likely that such an expedition as that of Bruce Rhodes and his father in this book will take place some time in the next several centuries. The rings of Saturn are not so closely packed as to make a cautious entry into their midst an impossibility. Since they circle their planet at calculated speeds, the various components of each must likewise move in an orderly and relatively stable progression. Certainly the temptation to explore them will be overwhelming to the first space fliers to reach far Saturn. For the solution of then-nature and origin may prove to be the most valuable key to the secret of the beginning and the end of Earth itself!
There are three major rings. The innermost one is very dark and is known therefore as the “crepe” ring. About 11,000 miles wide, it begins only 6,000 miles from Saturn’s surface. The middle ring is 18,000 miles wide and is the brightest, its most luminous part being its outer edge. A gap of some 2,200 miles, known as Cassini’s Divide, separates this from the outermost ring, which is 11,000 miles wide.
Just why these rings vary in speed and brightness, just what differences there are between them, are all secrets which science will have to leave to the Bruce Rhodes of the future to answer.
D.W.
CHAPTER 1 Luna Launching Rack
Bruce Rhodes was in for a terrible shock on the very day that should have been one of the happiest of his life. It was high-school graduation day, a day when the boys in his class came in for the last time, held their final assembly, received their diplomas and were given their entrance listings for college. Bruce had always been popular, one of the best boys in his class, gaining high marks in his astronomy and space-engineering classes, and qualifying for entry into the special space-fliers’ courses at the state college.
But on that morning, when the exams were all over and it was just a matter of waiting around until assembly was called, Bruce was surprised at the sudden hush that came over his classmate
s as he entered their room. Instead of greeting him, they were gathered in several little groups whispering among themselves. They were giving him rather unfriendly glances as he came in. A few nodded coldly and continued to ignore him otherwise.
Bruce was puzzled. He walked over to one of the boys who had been a close friend. “What’s up? Something eating you fellows this morning?”
The other boy looked at him. He had always liked Bruce, who was sixteen like himself and a fellow member of the school basketball team. “Don’t you know?” he asked slowly.
Bruce looked at him in wonder. “Know what? Is there something I’ve done that’s bothering you fellows?”
The other chap shook his head slowly. “Not you. Your father. After all, you don’t expect us to be keen about this dirty business, do you?”
Bruce was utterly baffled. He grabbed the other boy by the arm. “What are you talking about? What about my dad?”
His friend was amazed. “You mean . . . you haven’t seen the papers . . . you don’t really know?” At Bruce’s headshake, he reached into his desk and pulled out a copy of that morning’s newspaper, folded to a column on the front page. Bruce took it. As he read, he felt cold sweat break out, and he felt as if the bottom of his world had fallen out.
“Chief Scientist Fired by Terraluna,” said the headline, and went on: “It was announced today by the directors of the Terraluna Corporation, the only authorized organization engaged in exploring and mining the moon, that the famous Dr. Emanuel Rhodes, chief of their research bureau and responsible for many of their remarkable mining achievements, had been discharged three months ago.
“Terraluna released a statement to the press today charging that Dr. Rhodes had betrayed certain company secrets to parties opposed to the moon-mining development, had attempted to prevent further work by the company, and was engaged in hindering a most important project which Terraluna declared would immensely benefit all humanity. They said that they had been forced to make public Dr. Rhodes’ disgrace because of his present efforts to attack the company’s good name and intentions.”
Three months ago! But Bruce had not had a word of this. His mother had said nothing to him. His father he had supposed to have been on duty at Terraluna’s great mining domes on the moon. The fact that his father was world-famous as the inventor of the robot mining prospector, and of dozens of other atomic developments in interplanetary work, had been the pride of Bruce’s young life. And now—disgrace. The boys of his day, in the early years of the twenty-first century, had always regarded Terraluna as the biggest thing one could hope to work for. Its mines on Luna, its expeditions on the asteroids, represented the highest pay and the most exciting work. And Bruce’s father had been the head of their most exciting section, the department of new projects.
How Bruce got through the rest of that morning he could never remember. Somehow, automatically, he went along with the rest of his class, feeling the silent rebukes of his classmates. He got his diploma from an unsmiling principal, felt the slackening of applause when his turn came to go up and get it. He managed to leave school at last and took the air-bus directly home.
He dashed through the door of his house, looking for his mother. He found her reading a radio message that had just clicked off their automatic newscaster projector. She looked up at him and handed him the message. It was short and said that Bruce was to come to the United Nations spaceport in Colorado without delay. It was signed by his father.
“What’s it mean? Where’s Dad?” he asked.
His mother smiled. “Don’t believe everything you read. Your father knew what he was doing. You haven’t much time. Pack up and hurry. I won’t be able to go with you, because I have things to do here, but I’ll expect you back in a couple of days.”
As she urged Bruce toward his bedroom to start a quick packing, he asked, “But is Dad back here on Earth? How come I didn’t see him?”
“He’ll explain all that to you. These are very, very serious matters.”
Bruce hastily threw some changes of clothes into a bag, took the fare money his mother gave him, kissed her good-by. As he started for the air terminal to catch the next express plane for the spaceport, she called one more word of warning after him. “Don’t talk to anybody about who you are or where you’re going. Especially not Terraluna people.”
All during the next two hours, when his jet plane was hurtling across the land, with its cargo of bored passengers, businessmen commuting, vacationers anxious to get to their goal, Bruce kept silently to himself. For a while he had time to think, to catch his breath.
How suddenly his life had been torn apart! At one moment, Terraluna was the pride of his life, a company he had always expected to work for. Now he felt like an outcast, yet he knew that his father must be able to tell a different story. The newspaper account could only be the company’s side of the affair.
Space flight was the great thing in the lives of all the people of Bruce’s day. Beginning back in the middle of the previous century when the first rockets had landed on the moon, a combination of brilliant scientists, daring adventurers, and imaginative businessmen had advanced man’s frontiers outward through the solar system. The moon had proved a rich source of atomic fuels and rare metals, and the mining centers that had been set up there by Terraluna, the pioneer organization that had financed and operated the first explorations, were the wonders of the ages. Terraluna’s ships had spiraled inward to prospect the strange seas and cloudy continents of Venus; one ship had already touched on the boiling deserts of Mercury. Other ships had reached ancient Mars, and many were working the rich deposits to be found in the asteroids. The moons of Jupiter had been pioneered, but beyond that no ship had ever gone.
Bruce’s father had been among the early science pioneers. He had been with Terraluna for over thirty years and had been for many years their head of research, a man held in high honor in the world. To Bruce it was unthinkable that his father could have fallen. Yet he could not doubt the evidence of that day.
It was not the first time that Bruce had been to the UN spaceport in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. He had been there before in past years, after one of his father’s brief vacations back at home. He and his mother had gone and waved good-by to his dad as the Terraluna-chartered rocket had taken off with its load of moon miners and engineers. But this time he stepped down from the jet express by himself.
No crowd of miners and their families were present today as in the past. Only Bruce got off, and the jet roared on its way to its next stop, leaving him alone at the entrance to the little terminal.
Carrying his bag, he walked into the waiting room. A familiar gray-haired figure was waiting there, and they rushed to each other in greeting. Bruce’s father was tall, strangely tanned by the harsh rays of the unprotected sun on the moon’s surface. But today Bruce noticed the tired lines on his brow, and a look of tension that seemed unwilling to permit the broad smile with which he usually greeted his son.
Without further delay, Bruce’s father took him by the arm and steered him to a waiting car. “Don’t ask too many questions right now, Bruce. I’ll get a chance to explain things in a little while. There’s still some important work I must complete in the next hour before I will have a little time to spare. Meanwhile, Waldron here will show you over the ship.”
Waldron turned out to be a young man wearing spacehand overalls, who was waiting in the car. He turned to Bruce, gave him a single narrow glance, shook hands rather limply. “Glad to know you,” he said.
Bruce returned the greeting and after that the three rode in silence, as Waldron drove the two-wheeled, teardrop-shaped ground car away from the terminal and onto the twelve-mile road to the base of the launching racks.
They made the trip in a few minutes, reaching an enclosure at the base of a towering peak. There they got out, passed through a gate at which was stationed an armed guard in UN police uniform. Dr. Rhodes signed Bruce in, and gave his son a card.
“This will ident
ify you. As you see, this is all top-secret work. Waldron will take you out to look over the ship while I get back to the computing rooms and chart our course.”
“When are you going to take off?” Bruce asked quickly as his father started away.
“As soon as possible,” the old engineer called back. “In an hour perhaps!”
Waldron pointed to a gleaming vessel already standing on a long arrangement like a railroad flatcar. Bruce knew this was the trolley by means of which the space ships were rolled into place on the launching rack. The two walked over to it.
“Whose ship is that?” asked Bruce, as he noticed that it bore none of the markings of Terraluna or any of the standard space lines.
“It’s a special United Nations exploration craft. It’s being loaned to your father for this trip. It’s almost completely ready,” Waldron replied. “Come on inside. There's still some work I've got to complete.”
Bruce noticed a tank truck still pumping atomic rocket fuel into the ship’s tanks. “How many men are going along?” he asked.
As they climbed the ladder to the entrance lock, Waldron answered, “Were carrying a crew of five, including your father. Two spacehands, myself one of them, an astrogator, a pilot, and Dr. Rhodes as captain.”
They entered the ship. It was narrow and cramped, being built for endurance and having most of its space taken up with fuel storage tanks and equipment. Waldron proceeded to the engine room in the rear, a small chamber where the exposed tubes of the various connections were open to survey and where checks could be made directly by crew members on the operation of the various flows and wirings.
“Wait a second,” Waldron said. “There’s a job I have to do before I can show you the rest of the ship.” He glanced at a wrist watch anxiously, then knelt down, picked up a wrench from a wall rack and began to unbolt the cover over the center wall, the one that had meters of direction and speed which duplicated those in the master control chamber at the nose of the ship.
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