CHAPTER TWO - RAKE THAT RADIATION!
The deputy commander and the safety officer got untangled and hurried totheir posts with no more than black looks at Rip. He got to his feet, hisface crimson with embarrassment. A fine entrance for a Planeteer officer,especially one on his first orders!
Around him, the spacemen were settling in their acceleration seats orsnapping belts to safety hooks. From the direction of the stern came arising roar as liquid methane dropped into the blast tubes, flaming intopure carbon and hydrogen under the terrible heat of the atomic drive.
Rip had to lean against the acceleration. Fighting for balance, he pickedup his spack and made his way to the nine enlisted Planeteers. They hadbraced against the ship's drive by sitting with backs against bulkheads,or by lying flat on the magnesium deck. Sergeant-major Koa was seatedagainst a vertical brace, his brown face wreathed in a grin as he waitedfor his new officer.
Rip looked him over carefully. There was a saying among the Planeteersthat an officer was only as good as his senior sergeant. Koa's looks werereassuring. His face was good-humored, but he had a solid jaw and a mouththat could get tough when necessary. Rip wondered a little at his size.Big men usually didn't go to space; they were too subject to spacesickness. Koa must be a special case.
Rip slid to the floor next to the sergeant-major and stuck out his hand.He sensed the strength in Koa's big fist as it closed over his.
Koa said, "Sir, that was the best _fleedle_ I've ever seen an earthlingmake. You been on Venus?"
Rip eyed him suspiciously, wondering if the big Planeteer was laughing athim. Koa was grinning, but it was a friendly grin. "What is a _fleedle_?"Rip demanded. "I've never been on Venus."
"It's the way the water-hole people fight," Koa explained. "They're like abunch of rubber balls when they get to fighting. They ram each other withtheir heads."
Rip searched his memory for data on Venus. He couldn't recall any mentionof _fleedling_. Venusians, if his memory was right, had a sort of blowgunas a main weapon. He told Koa so.
The sergeant-major nodded. "That's when they mean business, Lieutenant._Fleedling_ is more like us fighting with our fists. Sort of a sport.Great Cosmos! The way they dive at each other is something to see."
Rip grinned. "I didn't know I was going to _fleedle_ those officers. Itisn't the way I usually enter a cruiser." He hadn't entered many. Headded, "I suppose I ought to report to someone."
Koa shook his head. "No use, sir. You can't walk around very well untilthe ship reaches brennschluss. Besides, you won't find any space officerswho'll talk to you."
Rip stared. "Why not?"
"Because we're Planeteers. They'll give us the treatment. They always do.When the commander of this bucket gets good and ready, he'll send for you.Until then, we might as well take it easy." He pulled a bar of Venusian_chru_ from his pocket. "Have some. It will make breathing easier."
The terrific acceleration made breathing a little uncomfortable, but itwas not too bad. The chief effect was to make Rip feel as though a ton ofinvisible feathers were crushing him against the vertical brace. Heaccepted a bite of the bittersweet vegetable candy and munchedthoughtfully. Koa seemed to take it for granted that the spacemen wouldgive them a rough time.
He asked, "Aren't there any spacemen who get along with the Special OrderSquadrons?"
"Never met one." Koa chewed _chru_. "And I was on the _Icarus_ when thewhole thing started."
Rip looked at him in surprise. Koa didn't seem that old. The bad feelingbetween spacemen and the Special Order Squadrons had started about 18years ago when the cruiser _Icarus_ had taken the first Planeteers toMercury.
He reviewed the history of the expedition. The spacemen's job had been toland the newly created Special Order Squadron on the hot planet. The jobof the squadron was to explore it. Somehow, confusion developed and thespacemen, including the officers, later reported that the squadron hadinstructed them to land on the sun side of Mercury, which would havedestroyed the spaceship and its crew, or so they believed at the time.
The commanding officer of the squadron denied issuing such an order. Hesaid his instructions were to land as close to the sun side as possible,but not on it. Whatever the truth--and Rip believed the SOS version, ofcourse--the crew of the _Icarus_ mutinied, or tried to. They made thelanding on Mercury with squadron guns pointed at their heads. Of course,they found that a sun-side landing wouldn't have hurt the ship. The wholeaffair was pretty well hushed up, but it produced bad feeling between theSpecial Order Squadrons and the spacemen. "Trigger happy space bums," thespacemen called them, and much worse besides.
The men of the Special Order Squadrons, searching for a handy nickname,had called themselves Planeteers, because most of their work was on theplanets. As Major Joe Barris had told the officers of Rip's class, "Youmight say that the spacemen own space, but we Planeteers own everythingsolid that's found in it."
The Planeteers were the specialists--in science, exploration, colonization,and fighting. The spacemen carried them back and forth, kept themsupplied, and handled their message traffic. The Planeteers did the hardwork and the important work. Or so they believed.
To become a Planeteer, a recruit had to pass rigid intelligence, physical,aptitude, and psychological tests. Less than 15 out of each 100 whoapplied were chosen. Then there were two years of hard training on thespace platform and the moon before a recruit was finally accepted as aPlaneteer private. Out of each 15 who started training, an average of fivefell by the wayside.
For Planeteer officers, the requirements were even tougher. Only one outof each 500 applicants finally received a commission. Six years oftraining made them proficient in the techniques of exploration, fighting,rocketeering, and both navigation and astrogation. In addition, eachbecame a full-fledged specialist in one field of science. Rip's specialtywas astrophysics.
Sergeant-major Koa continued, "That business on the _Icarus_ started thewar, but both sides have been feeding it ever since. I have to admit thatwe Planeteers lord it over the spacemen like we were old man Cosmoshimself. So they get back at us with dirty little tricks while we're ontheir ships. We command on the planets, but they command in space. Andthey sure get a great big nuclear charge out of commanding us to do thedirty work!"
"We'll take whatever they hand us," Rip assured him, "and pretend we likeit fine." He gestured at the other Planeteers. "Tell me about the men,Koa."
"They're a fine bunch, sir. I hand-picked them myself. The one with thewhite hair is Corporal Nels Pederson. He's a Swede. I served with him atMarsport, and he's a real rough space spickaroo in a fight. The othercorporal is little Paulo Santos. He's a Filipino, and the bestsnapper-boat gunner you ever saw."
He pointed out the six privates. Kemp and Dowst were Americans. Bradshawwas an Englishman, Trudeau a Frenchman, Dominico an Italian, and Nunez aBrazilian.
Rip liked their looks. They were as relaxed as acceleration would allow,but you got the impression that they would leap into action in amicrosecond if the word were given. He couldn't imagine what kind ofassignment was waiting, but he was satisfied with his Planeteers. Theylooked capable of anything.
He made himself as comfortable as possible, and encouraged Koa to talkabout his service in the Special Order Squadrons. Koa had plenty to tell,and he talked interestingly. Rip learned that the big Hawaiian had been toevery planet in the system, had fought the Venusians on the centraldesert, and had mined nuclite with SOS One on Mercury. He also found thatKoa was one of the 17 pure-blooded Hawaiians left. During the three hoursthat acceleration kept them from moving around the ship, Rip got a newview of space and of service with the SOS--it was the view of a Planeteerwho had spent years around the Solar System.
"I'm glad they assigned you to me," Rip told Koa frankly. "This is myfirst job, and I'll be pretty green, no matter what it is. I'll depend onyou for a lot of things."
To his surprise, Koa thrust out his hand. "Shake, Lieutenant." His grinshowed strong white teeth. "You're the first junior officer I e
ver met whoadmitted he didn't know everything about everything. You can depend on me,sir. I won't steer you into any meteor swarms."
Koa had half turned to shake hands. Suddenly he spun on around, his headbanging against the deck. Rip felt a surge of loosened muscles that hadbeen braced against acceleration. At the same time, silence flooded in onthem with an almost physical shock. He murmured, "brennschluss," and themurmur was like a trumpet blast.
The _Scorpius_ had reached velocity and the nuclear drive had cut out.From terrific acceleration they had dropped to zero. The ship was makinghigh speed, but velocity cannot be felt. For the moment, the men wereweightless.
A near-by spaceman had heard Rip's comment. He spoke in an undertone tothe man nearest. His voice was pitched low enough so Rip couldn't objectofficially, but loud enough to be heard.
"Get this, gang. The Planeteer officer knows what brennschluss is. Hedoesn't look old enough to know which end his bubble goes on."
Rip started to his feet, but Koa's hand on his arm restrained him. With aviolent kick the big sergeant-major shot through the air. His line offlight took him by the spaceman, and somehow their arms got linked. Thespaceman was jerked from his post and the two came to a stop against theceiling.
Koa's voice echoed through the ship. "Sorry. I'm not used to no-weight.Didn't mean to grab you. Here, I'll help you back to your post."
He whirled the helpless spaceman like a bag of feathers and slung himthrough the air. The force of the action only flattened Koa against theceiling, but the hapless spaceman shot forward head first and landed witha clang against the bulkhead. He didn't hit hard enough to break anybones, but he would carry a bump around on his head for a day or two.
Koa's voice floated after him. "Great Cosmos! I sure am sorry, spaceman. Iguess I don't know my own strength." He kicked away from the ceiling,landing accurately at Rip's side. He added in a hard voice all could hear,"They sure are a nice gang, these spacemen. They never say anything aboutPlaneteers."
No spaceman answered, but Koa's meaning was clear. No spaceman had bettersay anything about the Planeteers! Rip saw that the deputy commander andthe safety officer had appeared not to notice the incident. Technically,there was no reason for an officer to take action. It had all been an"accident." He smiled. There was a lot he had to learn about dealing withspacemen, a lot Koa evidently knew very well indeed.
Suddenly he began to feel weight. The ship was going into rotation. Thefeeling increased until he felt normally heavy again. There was no othersensation, even though the space cruiser now was spinning on its axisthrough space at unaltered speed. The centrifugal force produced by thespinning gave them an artificial gravity.
Now that he thought about it, brennschluss had come pretty early. The tripapparently was going to be a short one. Brennschluss ... funny, hethought, how words stay on in a language even after their original meaningis changed. Brennschluss was German for "burn out." It was rocket talk,and it meant the moment when all the fuel in a rocket burned out. It hadcome into common use because the English "burn out" also could mean thatthe engine itself had burned out. The German word meant only the onething. Now, in nuclear drive ships, the same word was used for the momentwhen power was cut off.
Words interested him. He started to mention it to Koa just as thetelescreen lit up. An officer's face appeared. "Send that Planeteerofficer to the commander," the face said. "Tell him to show an exhaust."
Rip called instantly to the safety officer. "Where's his office?"
The safety officer motioned to a spaceman. "Show him, Nelson."
Rip followed the spaceman through a maze of passages, growing moreweightless with each step. The closer to the center of the ship they went,the less he weighed. He was pulling himself along by plastic pull cordswhen they finally reached the door marked "Commander."
The spaceman left without a word or a salute. Rip pushed the lock bar andpulled himself in by grabbing the door frame. He couldn't help thinking itwas a rather undignified way to make an entrance.
Seated in an acceleration chair, a safety belt across his middle, wasSpace Commander Keven O'Brine, an Irishman out of Dublin. He was short, ascompact as a deto-rocket, and obviously unfriendly. He had amathematically square jaw, a lopsided nose, green eyes, and sandy hair. Hespoke with a pronounced Irish brogue.
Rip started to announce his name, rank, and the fact that he was reportingas ordered. Commander O'Brine brushed his words aside and stated flatly,"You're a Planeteer. I don't like Planeteers."
Rip didn't know what to say, so he kept still. But sharp anger was risinginside of him.
O'Brine went on, "Instructions say I'm to hand you your orders enroute.They don't say when. I'll decide that. Until I do decide, I have a job foryou and your men. Do you know anything about nuclear physics?"
Rip's eyes narrowed. He said cautiously, "A little, sir."
"I'll assume you know nothing. Foster, the designation SCN means SpaceCruiser, Nuclear. This ship is powered by a nuclear reactor. In otherwords, an atomic pile. You've heard of one?"
Rip controlled his voice, but his red hair stood on end with anger.O'Brine was being deliberately insulting. This was stuff any new Planeteerrecruit knew. "I've heard, sir."
"Fine. It's more than I had expected. Well, Foster, a nuclear reactorproduces heat. Great heat. We use that heat to turn a chemical calledmethane into its component parts. Methane is known as marsh gas, Foster. Iwouldn't expect a Planeteer to know that. It is composed of carbon andhydrogen. When we pump it into the heat coils of the reactor, it breaksdown and creates a gas that burns and drives us through space. But thatisn't all it does."
"You're a Planeteer. I Don't Like Planeteers."]
"You're a Planeteer. I Don't Like Planeteers."
Rip had an idea what was coming, and he didn't like it. Nor did he likeCommander O'Brine. It was not until much later that he learned thatO'Brine had been on his way to Terra to see his family for the first timein four years when the cruiser's orders were changed. To the commander,whose assignments had been made necessary by the needs of the SpecialOrder Squadrons, it was too much. So he took his disappointment out on thenearest Planeteer, who happened to be Rip.
"The gases go through tubes," O'Brine went on. "A little nuclear materialalso leaks into the tubes. The tubes get coated with carbon, Foster. Theyalso get coated with nuclear fuel. We use thorium. Thorium is radioactive.I won't give you a lecture on radioactivity, Foster. But thorium mostlygives off the kind of radiation known as alpha particles. Alpha is notdangerous unless breathed or eaten. It won't go through clothes or skin.But when mixed with fine carbon, thorium alpha contamination makes a mess.It's a dirty mess, Foster. So dirty that I don't want my spacemen to foolwith it.
"I want you to take care of it instead," O'Brine said. "You and your men.The deputy commander will assign you to a squadroom. Settle in, then drawequipment from the supply room and get going. When I want to talk to youagain, I'll call for you. Now blast off, Lieutenant, and rake thatradiation. Rake it clean."
Rip forced a bright and friendly smile. "Yes, sir," he said sweetly."We'll rake it so clean you can see your face in it, sir." He paused, thenadded politely, "If you don't mind looking at your face, sir--to see howclean the tubes are, I mean."
Rip turned and got out of there.
Koa was waiting in the passageway outside. Rip told him what had happened,mimicking O'Brine's Irish accent.
The sergeant-major shook his head sadly. "This is what I meant,Lieutenant. Cruisers don't clean their tubes more'n once in tenaccelerations. The commander is just thinking up dirty work for us to do,like I said."
"Never mind," Rip told him. "Let's find our squadroom and get settled,then draw some protective clothing and equipment. We'll clean his tubesfor him. Our turn will come later."
He remembered the last thing Joe Barris had said, only a few hours before.Joe was right, he thought. To ourselves we're supermen, but to thespacemen we're just simps. Evidently O'Brine was the kind of space
officerwho ate Planeteers for breakfast.
Rip thought of the way the commander had turned red with rage at thatcrack about his face, and resolved, "He may eat me for breakfast, but I'lltry to be a good, tough mouthful!"
Rip Foster Rides the Gray Planet Page 2