Marooned on Mars

by Lester Del Rey

  Then it was only a hot, blue speck in the blackness of the sky. It continued for a full minute, before the flame vanished as the drive was cut. Chuck waited, knowing they were turning the ship over to blast against its direction and slow it. Finally, the blueness appeared again, but soon stopped. Now the ship would be drifting back slowly toward the Moon, while they checked the performance and again turned its rockets to point downward.

  It was nearly twenty minutes before the blast shot out again, and the speck turned into a ship. Rothman’s piloting was less than Jeff’s would have been. The ship came to a halt fifty feet above the surface, and he had to take an extra blast to settle it, after the original cut-off. But it still was a good landing.

  The test was obviously successful.

  There was a buzz in Chuck’s ears, and he cut his radio back on, to hear Jeff’s voice. “Chuck! Stick around, will you? I’m leaving these boys to their figures, so I’ll walk back with you.”

  Chuck acknowledged it, and moved as close to the ship as he could. It was nearly ten minutes before the ground had cooled enough for Jeff to come out The pilot indicated the tiny aerial on his helmet, and jabbed twice. Chuck moved his switch away from the common channel for all the suits to second position, where he could talk to Jeff in privacy.

  “How’d she handle?” he asked.

  “Like a dream, kid. She’s big and fat and built like a tub, but she has a lively set of heels. Now, what’s all this about your being shipped back? You’re no desk-jockey. I thought your father and I had it all fixed up for you to turn pilot!”

  Chuck located a small tractor and started it toward the other crater as he tried to explain things to Jeff. The pilot

  grunted in disgust at the stupidity of all men who couldn’t appreciate the lure of the rockets. But he agreed with the Governor.

  “Once your permit’s lifted, you’re sunk. They’d call you| an ungrateful puppy if you appealed it; anyhow, Braithwaite has to keep them happy if we’re to get a bigger appropriation to set up a second colony. His hands are tied.”

  “I know it. I’m not blaming anyone, Jeff. But it doesn’t make me any happier.”

  “Nor your Dad. I guess he wanted you to go as much as you did. Your family got used to losing you for a couple years on the Mars hop, but they don’t like getting along without you for something you don’t want. Look, how about coming over to my place? I picked up a couple of mincemeat pies; they got crushed a bit, but they’re edible.”

  Chuck wasn’t hungry, even for pies, but he didn’t feel like going back to his own room and moping. He nodded, and they turned toward the entrance to the bachelor quarters. Jeff’s room was filled with books and relics of the early rocket days and it was surprisingly comfortable,

  Jeff sliced the pies, beginning a long story about the early trips he had made. In spite of himself. Chuck found himself listening. It was late afternoon before he finally stood up to go.

  Jeff walked down the tunnel toward the Svensen apartment with him. “It’s quite a ship, that Eros,” he said suddenly. “More room. You could hide an army in the hydroponic gardens. If I were a little younger and crazier, I’d have sneaked aboard some night, like that young fool I was telling you about on our fifth trip up here. She’ll be gone about two years and it’ll be some trip. Hey!”

  Chuck looked up at his shout. “What, Jeff?”

  “Just hit me. You’ll probably get your permit back about the time the Eros returns. At least you can get up to see her come in.” They reached the apartment, and he turned to go. “Look me up before they ship you back, kid.”

  Chuck found his family already seated at the table, discussing the new work Svensen would be doing in the high vacuum labs, now that work on the Eros was finished. But his father dropped it as he came in.

  “The Governor fixed it for you and me to watch the take-off from the radar building,” he said. “That way we can follow what goes on. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you get a chance to handle communications.”

  Chuck knew it should cheer him up, but his head was too full of the last words Jeff had said. He dropped into a chair. “Thanks, Dad. But—well, I’ve been thinking maybe I won’t watch the take-off.”

  “Oh!” Quick, understanding ran over his father’s face. “Okay, son, just as you like.” He went back to the details of his new job.

  Chuck played with his food, trying to eat, but the new idea that had hit him was taking all his attention. He finished as quickly as he could and stood up. His mother was shaking her head over the food he had left, and he kissed her quickly. “I guess I’m just tired. I’m going to bed.”

  “I won’t wake you in the morning. Chuck,” his father promised.

  It fitted perfectly with the idea. Chuck thought. He shut the door behind him, and dropped onto the bed. Then, because his family might look in on him, he climbed in, clothes and all, and pulled the sheets up to his neck.

  It would take two years to get his permit back; but by then he’d be too far along with schooling to quit, and he’d still have four more years to go on Earth. If he had been going on the Eros, though, he could get a permit when he returned—and there’d be no strings. His father wanted him to go, anyhow, even his mother had approved of the trip. It wasn’t as if he’d be useless; the examinations had proved his fitness for the trip.

  He tried to remember Jeff’s story of the boy who’d stowed away on the early Moon rocket. Jeff couldn’t have known what he was saying. But the idea wouldn’t leave. Of course, the Council would be angry; but in two years they’d forget—and they wouldn’t deny a new permit to anyone who’d been on Mars!

  He tossed about, trying to plan some way to get aboard the ship. Suddenly he realized that his mind was made up— he was going! They weren’t going to turn him into a humdrum research man back on Earth after he’d been all set to explore the mystery of other planets. He’d stow away!

  He waited, listening to the sounds of the family. It seemed to take an endless time to wash the dishes, put them away, and then discuss things—probably worry about him. He wondered how his mother would take his running off; then he remembered that her father had run off to join the Air Force, and that it was one of her chief sources of pride. She’d understand—and his father would be secretly pleased.

  There was a final stir as they prepared for bed. He heard his mother’s steps at his door, and quickly feigned sleep. A shaft of light touched his face. Then the door closed, and he heard the door to the main bedroom shut

  He waited another half-hour to be safe. Finally, he got up and turned on his writing light. The note was an awkward one—he knew he couldn’t say what he wanted to. But it would have to do. He sealed it and addressed an envelope; it wouldn’t be picked up until morning—or delivered until after the Eros had left.

  He tiptoed out through the door into the tunnel—and almost stumbled over Jeff Foldingchair.

  “Hi,” the pilot greeted him. “You’d better get some spare clothes, kid. It’s a long way to Mars!”

  Chuck choked in surprise. “I thought—I—”

  “Yeah. You thought I didn’t know I was putting ideas in your head. Look, kid—I didn’t quite tell that story to you straight. It was the second trip to the Moon—and was the kid who stowed away on it. But unless you could figure it out for yourself—with a little help—you didn’t deserve a chance. How about the clothes?”

  “You probably brought some along,” Chuck guessed, laughing.

  “Smart boy.” Jeff pointed to a bag at his side. “But you haven’t figured yet what you’d do to get aboard? It isn’t a pushover—they have guards around the ship. And if you’re found before take-off, they’ll practically clap you in irons.”

  “I know it. But I was figuring that maybe I could slip past the guards.”

  “Not a chance. There’s an electric eye system the guard has to let down—I’ve been looking it over on the quiet. We’ll have to work it out some way, but I’m not sure yet how.”

  Chuck cl
imbed into the new space suit, while Jeff put on his old one. They started toward the tractor port, and Chuck frowned. He’d expected to travel on foot to the Eros. Then he realized Jeff was right; the only thing was to act as if they were on legitimate business.

  He put his head against the pilot’s.

  “How about you, Jeff? Are you sure it won’t get you in trouble?”

  “Maybe—but I’ve been in trouble before. I used to be something of a character. I’ll make out. And Chuck—”

  “Yes?”

  “If we see Vance or Steele, forget everything. They’d have to turn you in, since they’re officials responsible to the UN. Otherwise, get aboard somehow, and leave the guards up to me. I may be able to swing it.

  It didn’t sound as easy as Chuck had thought When they got to the ship, it looked worse. The place was lighted, though not brightly, and the single guard was directly below the air lock.

  Chuck swung off the tractor and headed forward, fiddling with the tiny dial on his chest that turned the radio. He kept calling until the other’s voice was suddenly in his ears. “Who is it? Wong?”

  “Chuck Svensen. I came to pick up some tools I suddenly remembered I’d left. Any chance of going inside?”

  “Oh, Chuck.” It was one of the construction crew. The man nodded. “No reason why you can’t go up; you know the ship. We’re just keeping fools from getting lost inside, if they get curious. What about Foldingchair, though?”

  “He’s just waiting for me,” Chuck answered. “I may be quite a while locating the tools, though.”

  The guard laughed. “Want a good look around, eh?

  Okay, I know how you feel. If you’re not back when I go off, I’ll tell my relief to let you out. The beam’s off—go ahead.”

  Chuck grunted unhappily. He’d been hoping they wouldn’t maintain a guard up till the last minute, but the “relief sounded as if they were taking no chances. But it was too late to back out. He went up the ladder and into the ship. Jeff touched helmets with the guard.

  The guard’s radio carried the words. “How about letting me in the radar-shack for a smoke. Red? I’ll give you a chance afterwards, if you like.”

  “You’ve got a bargain, Foldingchair.” There was no suspicion in Red’s voice. “I’ve been dying for a smoke. Doors open.”

  Chuck found his way to the third level of the hydroponics room. It was filled with tanks of weedlike plants in chemical-soaked foam-plastic “soil.” The low ceiling was blazing with fluorescent lights. Here the carbon dioxide would be released again for re-use. It formed a balance that would make it unnecessary to take along much extra oxygen in high-pressure, tanks, and there was no limit to the length of time the air could be used that way.

  He moved toward the center of the deck, where equipment for tending the plants was stored. There was an air-cushion there for use under the tanks, if cleaning was needed. He hauled it out, inflated it from a near-by air hose, and spread it out under one of the tanks. There was just enough room for him to slide in, and it formed a fair hiding place.

  Jeff’s voice reached him again. “Thanks, Red. Kid hasn’t come out, eh? I suppose I’ll have to wait all night. Why don’t you catch a nap, and let me guard? Any reason against it?”

  “No-o” Hesitation gave place to relief. “Why not, if you’re willing? My relief will be here in a couple hours, but if I can sleep in the shack, I’ll be right here for take-off. Thanks, Foldingchair, I’ll do you a favor sometime. Wake me up if the kid comes out and you want to leave.”

  Chuck switched off the radio. Jeff had pulled it off. Now all he had to worry about would be a last-minute search— and Jeff would probably hide the little tractor and claim Chuck had gone home, if anyone asked.

  He slipped out of the space suit, hid it under another tank, and relaxed on the cushion. Reaction from the excitement set in, leaving him weak and trembling. But that passed quickly. He was surprised to find himself getting sleepy as the hours passed.

  CHAPTER 5

  All Hands to Control

  Chuck’s mind was half-asleep, but the shock of the acceleration hit at him before he could begin to sit up. They were using less acceleration here than from an Earth start-the lighter gravity of the moon made less violent beginnings economically sound—but it was still bad.

  The cushion had never been designed for such pressure. It sank beneath him, leaving his hips and shoulders against the flat metal floor. He groaned, trying to take up more of the crushing weight on his legs and arms. But it was useless. He had to take it. Then it was too much. Painfully, he rolled onto his side; the effort sent the blood racing to the lower side of his body; then he managed to get over on his stomach. It was almost as bad, but not quite.

  The minutes dragged, while he sweated it out. Acceleration seemed to go on endlessly, though it could not have been more than ten minutes.

  Suddenly it was over. The recoil of the cushion threw him against the bottom of the tank, bringing a groan from him as his bruised flesh took the force of it

  But he had no time to worry about that. He was on his way to Mars! All he had to do was to remain hidden for a day, and there was nothing that could keep him from making the trip.

  He crawled about, using his hands to pull himself along, since there was no weight to anchor him down. In the bag Jeff had packed, he found a plastic container of water and a bar of chocolate. He munched the candy and drank the water, sucking it through its little nipple. His stomach rebelled at first, refusing to function without gravity to give him weight.

  The sound of footsteps sent him scurrying back under the tank before the big figure of Dick Steele came down the handrails from above, hand over hand. The engineer glanced over the huge hydroponics room, and went on down to the lower levels.

  Chuck darted out to where he’d left the bag in plain view. He’d been lucky that time, but Steele might see it on the way back. He glanced at the opening for the handrails.

  The sound of a gong reached his ears, but he disregarded it. It was too late when he realized what it meant. The rockets suddenly roared behind, slapping him down against the floor. He had barely time to fall limply, and to try to support himself on his hands and bruised knees.

  Then it was over. The speed must have been slightly too little, but it had needed only a touch to correct it. Chuck had been braced when it went off. Now his legs and arms acted as springs, throwing him up against the ceiling. He grasped for a hold and almost managed to stop.

  But his clawing just missed the mark. He began sailing along midway between floor and ceiling, heading thirty feet away toward the wall of the ship, traveling as slowly as a falling feather.

  He looked down and up, but it would be at least a minute before he could get his hands on something to pull him down. He began threshing the air, trying to swim through it. Each motion of his arms jerked his whole body in the opposite direction. Swimming in air was possible, but it was slow and very awkward business.

  “Hey!” He jerked his head around, setting his body to jerking sharply and saw Dick Steele’s head protruding through the central shaft.

  The man pulled himself up, braced his legs for a second, and leaped out. Chuck tried to duck, but the other had plotted his course accurately. The big arms suddenly made contact, and the two of them shot together toward the wall. Dick’s hand found a post and pulled them down together.

  “Who—Chuck!” The suspicion faded to a grin. “Well, I’ll be switched! Stowaway to Mars. You crazy kid! Why the dickens couldn’t you stay hidden until we’d gotten farther out?”

  His voice became suddenly official. “Charles Svensen, I arrest you in the name of the United States for illegal passage on a chartered ship, in violation of UN regulations. You will come with me!”

  One big hand held firmly onto Chuck’s wrist as he began moving cautiously from tank to tank, using the other hand to keep from sailing out of control. “I’ll have to take you to Captain Vance, kid. You know what this means?”

  Chuck nodd
ed. It meant that they were still within reach of one of the little rockets and that a radargram back to the Moon would mean he would be picked up within a couple of hours. He cursed himself for his stupidity in not hearing the gong in time, but it was too late to do anything now.

  Steele found the handrail and began pulling his way along it. Chuck wriggled in his grasp. “I’ll go along, Dick, if you’ll let go.”

  The engineer released him, and he followed Dick up the rail. They went through the living quarters passage to the closed door of the control room where Steele knocked once. He pulled the door open and reached back for Chuck.

  Captain Miles Vance sat at the control board staring at the instruments. He was a tall, thin man, and there were touches of gray in his hair in spite of his being barely twenty-seven. His posture showed the Army training that had preceded his work with rockets. Outwardly, he looked like a harsh disciplinarian, but in reality he was one of the most pleasant men to work with Chuck had known. Lew Wong was sitting beside him at the radar, and the black curls of Nat Rothman barely showed up above the third seat as the pilot dug into the readings from his instruments.

  Vance looked up as the door opened, a faint smile on his face. His mouth sagged to a round circle of surprise as he saw Chuck, then tightened quickly. “Dick, unless you’ve got something important, stay out of here until I send for you! I haven’t got time for routine details yet Lew, get back to work! I want reports of the observatory readings. We haven’t time to waste listening to congratulations, or chatting with Lunar HQ. Well?”

  The last was to Steele. The big man grinned. “Nothing, sir. Sorry.” He reached for the door.

  Vance’s eyes met Chuck’s briefly before it closed. There was no sign in them that he had even seen the boy. Then one eyelid came down faintly in a wink, and the captain turned smartly back to his instrument board.

  Dick’s face broke into an amused grin, and Chuck let out his breath with a whistle. “Do you think…?” he began.