Chapter II: Part 2

As the two shots crashed out the creature sprang into the air a couple of feet. A great scream of pain and rage shook the very ground and made the air tremble. It hesitated only a moment, then charged toward the ship at terrific speed.

The boys pumped shots as fast as they could. Both had hit the head, but neither had put out an eye as they had hoped. They kept firing as fast as they could work their guns. Blood spouted from numerous wounds on the beast. But still it came on madly, with swift though lumbering bounds.

"Back quick, and shut the door," Jak yelled as his hammer clicked on an empty gun. He pushed backward and scrambled to his feet as Jon leaped to the door controls. The heavy door swung shut ... and the boys breathed a sigh of relief.

But almost at once their eyes filled with fear. They cringed back when they felt the ship itself shudder as that heavy body struck against it.

As swiftly as their trembling legs would carry them, they raced back to the control room. They reached it just in time to see the huge triped lunge against the side of the ship a second time ... and again held their breaths as it did so once more.

The beast's slow mind evidently realized, then, that it could not so easily overthrow this strange, great thing that had appeared so mysteriously in its jungle clearing. It backed away some little distance, still roaring out in that horrible voice.

Once again the beast bunched its mighty muscles for another attack ... when it seemed to stop in the middle of a roar. It wobbled a bit. Slowly its mighty legs buckled, and it sprawled on the ground. A few spasmodic shudders, a convulsive shiver that ran through the tremendous frame, then it was still.

The boys let out their breaths. They were just beginning to congratulate themselves when the door of the control room opened and their mother's frightened face appeared.

"What was that, Boys? I was taking a nap, but your shooting woke me, then I felt the ship shake as though there was an earthquake or something."

"It was noth...." Jon began, but Jak went up to her and put his arm about her.

"It was just a big animal, Mother. Jon and I killed it."

"An animal? Big enough to jar the ship that way? Where is it?" she gasped.

Jak pointed silently toward the port, and she hurried to look out. At sight of that huge mountain of flesh she cried out, and her face became ever more white and strained.

"What a horrible beast! Are you sure it's dead?"

"Quite sure. It wasn't hard to kill." Jak minimized the danger and made himself grin encouragingly. "I'm going out and hack off some steaks. Bet they'll be good, too."

"You'll do no such thing!" she cried, shocked. "Now you boys listen to your mother. You're not to budge outside the ship. I want you to leave this awful world at once."

The two boys looked at their mother, and suddenly they seemed to feel strength and maturity growing within them. As though the act had been discussed and rehearsed, they both came up and, taking their mother each by an arm, led her out of the control room and back to their living quarters. There they sat her down in her favorite recline seat.

"Look, Mother, you know how much we both love you and want to obey you always," Jak said earnestly. "But we're in a peculiar situation here...."

"On a strange planet, and Pop out of commission," Jon broke in.

"I know Jon and I are still boys," Jak continued, "but we're all the men here right now. We think you've got to begin trusting us to make the decisions."

"Jak's right," Jon chimed in. "We're not going to take any fool chances, but I say we've got to go ahead and do things just as we think Pop would if he was well and in command. As best we can, that is."

Mrs. Carver looked from one son to the other doubtfully for a long minute, then smiled tremulously.

"I keep forgetting you're not my babies any longer," she said slowly. "Mothers do that, you know. You're both almost grown men; I know you have good minds, almost mature minds. The various things you've been through have done that. So I release you from my apron strings. You two take charge, and do whatever you feel necessary."

They threw themselves on their knees, one on either side of her, their arms about her.

"Oh, Mother, we didn't mean it like that!"

"We never felt you had us tied to your apron strings, Mom," Jon added. "We still want to be your boys, even though we do have to act like men--at least until Pop takes charge again."

Her smile now was warm and tender, all hesitancy and most of the fears gone. "Mr. C. and I have tried to make you self-reliant and resourceful, and he'll be as proud of you as I am. You're right--you are the men of the party and must do whatever you decide should be done. But be careful," she could not help adding.

"We will, Mother."

"We think just as much of us as you do," Jon quipped.

They left her sitting there, then, and went back to the control room. As they came close to the window-ports they peered through eagerly, and were surprised to see the huge carcass of the triped literally covered with strange looking winged, featherless but fur-covered, bird-things. The latter had large, sharp beaks, with which they were tearing great gobs of flesh from the hulk, gulping them down with ravenous relish.

"Scavengers!" Jon exclaimed, his eyes glued to the scene.

"Yes, there go our steaks." Jak's tone was so lugubrious that Jon looked up and laughed. "I had hoped for some fresh meat."

"There'll be plenty later on," Jon consoled his brother. "Probably this one would've been too tough, anyway."

Jak suddenly chuckled. "Yes, like the fox said, the grapes were probably sour."

They grinned companionably at each other, then turned back to watch through the port again. So numerous and so voracious were the scavenger birds that within a few minutes they had even that mammoth carcass stripped of flesh, leaving only the huge bones. One by one, the birds then flew into the forest, the last ones fighting among themselves for the few remaining scraps of stringy flesh or entrails before they, too, took wing.

"Shall we try it now?" Jak asked after the last of the bird-things had gone.

"Might as well. We sure don't want to be cooped up here forever."

They went back to the airlock again, making sure their guns were reloaded and their ammo belts filled. When both boys were in the lock, Jon punched the button that closed the inner door, then opened the outer one. "Safer for Mom to have one of them shut," he exclaimed.

The two stood there a moment, looking all about them. Except for that strange pile of huge bones, now covered thickly with some sort of reddish, chitinous-covered, ant-like insects, the clearing seemed empty of all life except the peculiar, flower-like grasses.

Jon climbed down to the ground and Jak followed closely. They walked a short distance away, then turned and looked back, scanning carefully in all directions to make sure no enemy was at their backs.

"Let's go over and study that jungle a bit," Jak suggested when they were sure their rear was not, apparently, menaced.

Jon had been looking at the remains of the beast. "I'd like to try to salvage those tusks," he said, and with Jak at his side went up to them. The two boys managed, after considerable work, to get the great fangs out of the jaws. They brushed off the clinging insects, then ran back and placed the tusks inside the lock.

"Thanks, Owl. Now we'll go take a look at your trees. Then I want to examine the tubes and the outside of the ship. But we'd better stick together, at least this first time. So I'll sort of cover you, then when you've had a looksee, we'll go back and you keep guard while I see what shape the boat's in."

"Right. Let's get going."

Once past the seared place, they found that the peculiar, flower-tipped grasses were as stiff as wheat stubble. The grass-blades were knife sharp, but unable to penetrate the heavy, knee-high leather boots the boys wore.

Jak stooped to examine and study them. "The blossoms all seem to have three of these whitish petals," he said as he rose at last, "and that yellowish bulb in the center will be the seed pod."

When they started on again, they found walking difficult until they learned the trick of scuffling along without trying to raise their feet above the tops of the grasses each step. Then it was easier, particularly since the gravity here was about five per cent less than that of Terra, so they weighed less and their strength consequently seemed greater.

The trees were closely clustered for the most part, and after studying them for some time Jak said, "They're a lot like some of the pines back home, although not too much like any I ever saw."

"Notice how there're no limbs until you get up thirty feet or so?" Jon asked. "They'd be hard to climb without spurs." Indeed, after anyone did reach the first low limbs he would not be in much better shape for climbing, for the branches were ten to fifteen feet apart all the way up.

"Don't see any fruits, though maybe we're just not where any fruit trees are growing," Jak said after a bit.

"Yes, lots of woods back home don't have any fruit or nut trees in them."

The strange grasses grew only in small, occasional clusters inside the forest, but the ground was so deeply covered with fallen twigs, rotted branches and the needle-like leaves of previous years, that walking was extremely difficult, almost impossible in places.

"There're probably trails somewhere--that triped would've made some sort of path."

"He sure was heavy enough, and if this was part of his regular stamping ground, he undoubtedly used the same route."

"Maybe, but not necessarily. He might've been attracted by our descent. Anyway, we can look for that later. Let's go back now so you can look over the ship while it's still light. We should be ready for a quick take-off, if we run into anything too hot to handle."

Jon looked the surprise he felt. This sudden responsibility was making Jak more practical than he had ever been before ... just the same as it was making him. After all, it was to be expected. Jon knew Jak had an excellent mind--the elder brother had just used it for what Jon had previously felt were unimportant things--not mechanics, math, or such practical interests.

But the way Jak had taken care of Pop; the way he had figured out how to feed him, and the right medicines to use on the bruise on his head--that must have injured Pop inside--and had known how to set his leg--it was a danged good thing, after all, that Jak had spent so much time studying those other subjects. Maybe mechanics and such sciences were not the main things in life, after all. Other things had their uses, too.

Now the two went back to the ship and around to the stern. There, while Jak stayed on the ground on guard, watching in all directions in turn for any possible dangers, Jon surveyed the great driving tubes.

He climbed the metal rungs set into the ship for that purpose, so he could reach each of the tubes. With his glotorch he studied the lining of each tube, crawling partially inside each one in turn.

Finally he backed out of the last one and down to the ground. "They're all in fine shape," he reported happily to his brother. "Can't find a single thin spot in any of them. That new alloy is really something."

Although the older brother did not know too much about such things, he felt a sudden relief at this report, for he felt that Jon did know, and he had real confidence in him. He had long realized the differences in their temperaments, and for several years had known his brother was almost a genius in the mechanical field.

He remembered mentioning this matter to their father one time, and how his eyes had shone with pride as he answered, "Jon's really remarkable. Some day, if he keeps on like this, he's going to be known all over the galaxy because of what he'll do in mechanics."

Nor had Jak been jealous at this high praise of his younger brother. "Jon's just a kid," he had said, "and he's thoughtless rather than conceited. But sometimes he makes me so darned mad."

His father laughed. "Yes, like all kids, he hates the thought of letting anyone get ahead of him. That's particularly true of younger brothers. They feel, within themselves, that they are just as good or better than the older members of the family, and sometimes can't help showing it."

Jak grinned. "I'll bust him one yet, some day, though, if he doesn't watch out."

But he knew, and so did his father, that he never would. For both knew the real love that existed between the two brothers. Jak realized that his swiftly growing brother--now several inches taller and many pounds heavier than he--had a terrific mind. So, as now, he generally respected Jon's ideas, and shrugged away any momentary angers when Jon was particularly "bossy."

Jak followed as Jon walked slowly along the side of the ship, giving it a careful survey, especially toward the bottom, to see if anything on the lower surfaces appeared wrong.

"I'll climb up and give the top a going-over tomorrow," Jon said as they went ahead.

The _Star Rover_ was really a space-yacht. It was seventy-two feet long, and about eighteen feet in diameter at its thickest part, which was about a third of the way back from the bow. The front of the ship was bluntly rounded, and contained the control room with its thick, quartzite window-ports, and just outside that room the four bow-retarding tubes, which Jon also carefully examined when the boys reached them.

Just aft of the control room were the living quarters. These consisted of the large, comfortable living room, and two small but compact bunkrooms, the bath-toilet, the kitchen and many ingeniously designed closet and drawer spaces for stowing personal belongings, clothing and supplies.

Beyond these were the storerooms for food, tools and other supplies and equipment. The stern two-fifths of the ship was devoted to the storage of fuel and the various machines that drove the space-yacht and kept it a self-contained world while in space.

Here were the refrigerators and heaters, the air- and water-purifiers, the generators of electricity for light and cooking and for their auxiliary motors, such as the ones controlling the airlock doors and pumps. In the lower part of the hull, under their living and control rooms and storerooms, were hydroponic tanks which not only grew vegetables and greens for their table, but which furnished oxygen to replace that unavoidably lost when the locks were opened.

At the far stem were the driving mechanisms. The latter were the latest development in the atomic-powered field, and were surprisingly small for the tremendous work they did.

Even Jon did not yet fully understand how they operated, although he knew how to run them. He did know they took specially-treated copper, in the form of small nuggets, and utilized the tremendous force locked within their atoms as the propelling medium by which the ship operated.

In some manner these nuggets were vaporized inside the generators, into which they were automatically fed from the storage bins as needed--the power-controls regulating the speed with which they were fed into the generators. This vaporized copper was run through some sort of a modified cyclotron-type mechanism, where the binding-force of its atoms was liberated. That indescribable power then forced its vaporized particles out through the tubes--using the Newtonian law of action and reaction to propel the ship.

Suddenly Jon turned to his brother. "Hey, I just happened to think. We ought to rig up a siren or something, so Mom can call us if she needs us when we're away from the ship."

"Sounds like a swell idea. Can fix?"

"Sure, nothing to it. We may even have one among the stores. If not, it's just a diaphragm inside a tube, oscillated by electricity. I'll see if we've got one, or else make one and install it."

As they neared the entrance to the ship they saw their mother standing in the opened lock, getting a breath of fresh air, and looking about the clearing with an interested expression.

Jon had just opened his mouth to call to her when suddenly, without warning, without even a change in the light or feeling in the air, rain began coming down in great sheets. The boys, after only a momentary start of surprise, raced for the airlock. Their mother stayed to help them climb in. But by the time they were inside and the outer door was closed, they were wet through to the skin.

"Wow, that's sure some storm! Wonder if it's a regular feature here?"

"I wouldn't know," Jak panted. "Did you get a look at that lightning, and hear the thunder?"

"Didn't take time--I was too busy running." Jon laughed as he tried to wring the worst of the water out of his coveralls before going through the living room to the bunkroom, where they could change to dry garments.

As they came out their mother, now also in dry clothes, met them with a smile. "I think your father is getting better--he moved about quite a bit a while ago, although he didn't completely regain consciousness."

"Wonderful!"

"That's super!"

Later, as the three were eating dinner, Jak suddenly laid down his fork in excitement. "Just happened to think. We didn't see any cities here, so doesn't that make this a prime discovery?"

"That it do, that it do," Jon said delightedly.

"Then that means we have the right to name and claim this system...."

"Unless there are intelligent inhabitants on some of the other planets."

"Seems to me if there were any, they'd be here--this is certain to be the most logical world to support life. What'll we call this system?"

"'Carveria,' of course, stupid. After Pop," Jon answered witheringly.

"That's very thoughtful of you, Son." His mother smiled at him fondly.

"We'll call the sun 'Carveria,' then, and the five planets will be 'Tad,' 'Marci,' 'Jak,' 'Jon,' and 'Rover.'"

"Ouch, how corny can you get?" Jon sniffed. "Since there are five, I know the fifth should be named for the ship, and we can't very well call it 'Star Rover.' But certainly not just 'Rover,' either."

"Why not leave off the last 'r' and just call it 'Rove'?" their mother suggested.

"Good!" "Swell!" the two exclaimed at once.

"That means this one is named after you, Mom. How does it feel to have a whole world named after you?"

"You ought to know," she retorted with a smile that brought out her dimples in the old way. "You've each got one named for you."

"Then let's call this moon 'Diana,' after the ancient goddess of the moon," Jak said.

"Look, Owl, this is Mom's planet. She has the right to name her own moon." Jon's voice was almost a sneer.

"I think 'Diana' is a very nice name, and I'll accept that, although I'm going to make it 'Diane,'" his mother soothed. "That has always been my favorite girl name. If I'd ever had a daughter, I probably would have named her 'Diane.' So it will make a doubly fine name for my moon."

"Haven't time to measure or weigh it now, but I'll bet it's big enough, and close enough, to cause tides," Jon said meditatively.

"What's that got to do with the price of onions in Bermuda?"

"Nothing, just thought it was interesting. Well, bed for me. Need a good rest tonight."

"Why, especially, Son? What do you plan for tomorrow?"

"Just some more exploring, that's all. And we'll be careful," Jon added hastily as he saw the familiar words forming on her lips. "'Night, Mom."

4

At breakfast the next morning Jon suddenly stopped eating. "Say, as we were coming down, did you notice a small river or creek just over there to the right? I was pretty busy at the time, but seem to remember something of the sort."

"Yes, there was one near, but don't know just how far. Why?"

The boy grinned. "If there's a stream, there're probably fish. I was thinking we could get some fresh supplies that way."

"You and your fishing! Don't you ever think of anything else?"

"Sure I do, but I notice you always eat your share when I catch any and Mom cooks 'em."

Their mother said quickly, "Some fresh fish would taste good, Boys. If you have time and can catch any, I know we would all appreciate them."

"Look, Jak, you want to explore some more of that jungle, and I want to see if there's any of that stuff Pop was looking for, near here. We can just as well do both while working toward that creek, and I can take my rod along. But first, we've got to set up our marker here in the clearing."

"That's right, I'd almost forgotten your telling us about that. And we don't want to stay too long, either. Didn't you say we have to place one on each planet in order to prove our claim as original discovers?"

"Yes, and one in an orbit about the sun, too." Jon pushed back his chair and rose. "I'll go get one from the storeroom."

"I'll get my specimen cases ready, and see to the guns." Jak, too, rose, then forestalled his mother by turning to her, "I'll feed Father first, and we'll be careful outside. You can call us back with the new siren Jon installed, if you need us."

"All right, Boys." She smiled at them. "Mr. C. seemed to rest well last night, although I do wish he would regain full consciousness. I've plenty of housekeeping to keep busy while you're gone. Really should do some washing, but that doesn't take long. Just don't stay out too late."

"We won't," they both assured her. "We'll be back long before dark."

The marker which Jon fetched from the storeroom and placed near the inner lockdoor, ready to take outside and set up, was one developed by the scientists and technies of Terra for just such use.

It consisted of an exceptionally strong broadcasting unit that beamed the message of a tape, continuously, toward Terra. Jon made up the tape while Jak was giving the feeding. It read, "This planetary system was first discovered by Tad Carver, on fourteenth January, 2136. This is the second planet, and has been named 'Marci.'"

Over and over, at five-minute intervals, the sender would broadcast that message on a beam aimed at Terra. The controlling mechanism was a marvelously precise uranium clock, and a small atomic motor with fuel enough for five years gave all the needed power.

By the terms of the Terran Colonial laws, this was supposed to entitle the prime discover to certain rights in the system. For one thing, he would receive a one-half per cent share of the value of all minerals, oils, jewels and certain other natural resources later colonists might wrest from those planets, for twenty years following his discovery and the acceptance of his claim.

In this way, the Colonial Board of the World Government of Terra sponsored and assured the far-flung exploration which the development of deep-space travel had made possible. The dangers and expense were so considerable that something well worth while had to be offered to make individuals or companies willing to gamble on the hardships and tremendous costs of exploration.

When the boys left the ship to place the marker, they left both lockdoors open so that the fresh morning air from outside could circulate throughout the ship, replacing the somewhat stuffy, although chemically pure air that their purifiers kept renewed.

"Keep your eyes and ears open, and shut the doors if you think there's any danger," both boys cautioned their mother, after making sure she knew how to work the door controls.

"I will," she promised with a laugh, and couldn't help adding, "Just you be as careful as I'll be."

The boys carried the signal-sender to a distant corner of the clearing, to what Jon said was a good spot. "The book says to dig a hole and plant it with the top projecting three inches above the ground, whenever such a thing is possible."

"You know what to do, so take charge," Jak said simply. When they had dug the hole and placed the sender in it, they shoveled the dirt back, then Jon opened the lid. He started the tape reels and the broadcasting unit, then carefully shut and locked the cover.

In digging, they found the ground here to be damp and soggy, apparently from that terrific downpour of the previous evening. It was almost like a wet clay, although, even to their inexperienced eyes, it seemed to be a very rich type of soil.

"Look how wet it is, even over two feet down," Jon said.

"That was a real rain last night," Jak shook his head slowly, "but somehow I can't believe it made this. Maybe this is the rainy season."

They started toward the jungle, but turned to look back toward the ship. They saw their mother at the open door, and waved to her.

After seeing her answering wave, they plunged into the forest at a point where they saw a trail, left either by the frequent passings of the great triped they had shot, or by other beasts of some type not yet seen. Memory of that gigantic beast, though, made them doubly cautious.

"Sure don't want to meet his relatives," Jon said.

"Especially the mate," Jak added, and could not conceal a shiver.

They had noticed with considerable interest and surprise that those native ant-like scavengers had almost entirely eaten the bones of the triped.

"Apparently we'll not find much in the way of remains on this world," Jak commented as they walked carefully along the trail. "Those scavenger birds and ants sure clean up things in a hurry."

"Except for old vegetation," Jon grunted as he stumbled over a dead branch protruding out into the trail. He was keeping his rifle ready in his hands, and his keen eyes alert to one side and then the other, rather than downward.

Knowing his younger brother was so carefully on guard, Jak felt free to study and examine the various trees and other plant life near the irregular path they were following. He was almost in a frenzy of delight, constantly darting off the trail a few yards to look at some specimen he had detected, studying it carefully and exclaiming over his find.

"Hey, this one is like an _acer compestris_," he yelped, intently studying the bark with his magnifying glass.

"Spik Englis," Jon scolded. "What is it?"

"A hard maple," Jak's voice was condescending. Then he ran over to another. "This one's almost like a silver poplar. See how its light bark glints where the sunlight hits it?"

He started toward another farther away, but Jon called him back. "Don't get so far from the trail." Reluctantly, Jak retraced his steps, only to be off again a moment later.

"This 'un's got nuts almost like small coconuts." He picked a fallen one from the ground and tossed it to Jon. "See if you can crack it and find out what's inside."

But when Jon had done so, it proved to be dried and half-rotted. They could not get a fresh one from the tree by shaking, and it was too smooth and high to climb without spurs.

Jak quickly filled his knapsacks with first one and then another of the smaller plants, twigs and leaves he was continually finding. Soon Jon was laughing heartily, for his brother now had to discard an older specimen to make room for the new.

"You'll have to make several trips to get anywhere near all of those just around here, Owl," Jon called at last. "You can't take back everything, anyway. Way you're going now, you'd soon have the ship so full of your junk there'd be no place for us. And this is only the first planet, remember?"

"But these are unique," Jak wailed. "Botanists will want to study them."

"Then let them come here," Jon stated practically.

Jak looked at him, and grew shamefaced. "Guess I did go a little nuts," he said. But before long his excitement rose to fever pitch again. "There's so much here that's new and different, yet something like the ones we know. I must take back samples of everything."

"How many different kinds of--oh, say, roses--are there on Terra?"

"Why ... why ... I don't really know. Hundreds, I'm sure. Maybe thousands. What's that got to do with this?"

"Simply trying to make you realize you can't take back samples of 'everything,' as you said."

"Ouch!" Jak laughed good-naturedly then. "You've got me, pal. I'll take it easier."

But he soon forgot his good intentions as he found ever newer and more different plants and trees and mosses. There was such a dissimilarity, yet at the same time so many points of likeness between the plant life of this new world and that of Terra, that the young botanist was in a continual state of excitement.

Jon, meanwhile, although still keeping a sharp watch for any possible dangers, had been noticing the profusion of other life in this jungle. There were a number of different bird forms, although he saw that those he was close enough to examine were fur-covered rather than feathered. Nor did they seem to be songsters, for the only noises he heard were the soughing of the wind through the trees and vines and bushes, and the _swish_ of wings as the birds flew past.

They had gone some distance when he stopped short. Off at one side there was movement among the small bushes. A quick sibilant whisper froze Jak in his tracks. Jon raised his gun, his eyes searching quickly. Then two quick shots ... and a threshing in the underbrush. Soon stillness--and the two boys advanced cautiously, both with their guns at the ready. In the bushes they found what Jon had shot--two small tripeds somewhat resembling large jack rabbits.

"Hah, these should be good eating." Jon was in transports as he picked them up, examining them carefully.

"Should be tender, at least, if the flesh is suitable to us." Jak was excited, too. "There's enough for a good meal."

Jon took a piece of cord from his coverall pocket and tied the hind legs together, then slung them over his shoulder. "Let's keep going."

Jak continued finding new and different plants, and Jon kept on guard. Once they saw one of the huge tripeds in the distance, and stopped instantly, being very quiet as they slipped behind the boles of large trees, from which they peered out cautiously. But apparently the great beast had not heard, seen nor smelled them--it finally wandered away--grazing.

"Well, I'll be a tadpole!" Jon exclaimed. "A grass-eater."

But Jak was not so sure. "Lots of meat-eaters also eat a little grass. Those teeth didn't look like the ones of a herbivore. I think I'll keep away from them, anyway."

"You and me both!" Jon was agreeable to the idea.

At last, after nearly two hours, the two boys came to the banks of the stream, which was about a quarter mile wide at this point, and seemed not too deep, at least near the shore. Now it was Jon's turn to become the most excited. He ran to the edge and peered into the shallow depths, then called out delightedly at seeing dozens of darting forms of some type of marine life in the clear waters.

"You watch while I fish," he commanded, dropping his gun and the two hare-like creatures. He took the carrying case from his shoulder, opened it and in moments had his rod, reel and line ready.

"Yippee!" he yelled as he got an immediate strike on his first cast. With true fisherman's skill, he played the now fighting, swiftly darting denizen of the river. Carefully he reeled in his catch, giving line when the fish ran or plunged, reeling in when he felt the least bit of slack, exerting only enough pressure to force the fish-thing in toward him without losing it.

Soon the wriggling creature was in shallow water, and Jon waded out with his landing net. A quick, darting movement with hand and net, and he had his first catch.

He took it carefully from the net and held it aloft, examining and admiring it, while Jak danced about on the shore near him, uttering shrill yelps of triumph.

They could see that Jon's catch was streamlined almost like a trout or barracuda. It was nearly fifteen inches long, and very slender. There seemed to be no scales--the skin was more like that of an eel or bullhead.

"Fish or snake?" Jak asked.

"Don't know for sure." Jon was still studying it. "Think it's a fish, all right, but it hasn't any fins, and swims with the same wriggles a snake uses. I think it's more eel than snake, though, and I'm quite sure it'll be good eating."

The mouth was large and ran back almost three and a half inches. When Jon pried it open to remove his hook he saw there was a triple row of needle-sharp teeth, so quickly took a pair of pliers from his tool belt, and used these to remove the deeply swallowed hook.

The eel-fish freed, he dropped it into his creel, then cast again. It was apparent these water denizens were unused to lures, for hardly had his spinner touched the surface of the water than he had another strike.

As swiftly as he could reel in and remove one from his hook and cast again, Jon brought in fish after fish. All this time Jak was dancing about, now as excited as his brother at this prospect of fresh food to replace for the time the nourishing but hardly-delectable concentrates and frozen foods on which they had been living for so long.

But when Jon finally was satisfied with the size of his catch, he found that leaving the river was not to be a simple matter of wading ashore. So intent had he been on his fun he had not noticed that his feet were sinking further and further into the bottom.

Only now, as he tried to return to shore, did he find he could not lift his feet. They were firmly embedded in the sand or muck, more than halfway to his knees.

For a long moment he struggled to pull first one foot and then the other from the clinging stuff. Then he realized he must be in a sort of quicksand, and he began to panic.

"Quick, Jak, come help me! I'm caught."

But almost instantly he countermanded that sharply. "No! Stay back. The bottom here's quicksand or something."

Jak had come running at Jon's first cry. At this warning, though, he slid to a halt just short of the water. "How can I help?" he cried anxiously.

"Catch these first." And Jon threw first his rod, then his creel filled with fish.

Jak caught each and tossed them farther back onto the bank. He then looked quickly about, and spied a long, fallen branch at some little distance. He called to his brother, who was still trying desperately to free himself, "Hang on a minute. I'll be right back."

Racing for the branch, he picked it up and brought it back to the water's edge. But when he extended it toward Jon, it was too short by several feet, even though both leaned forward. Jak would have gone into the water with it, but Jon would not let him.

"We'll have to try something else, then." Jak was getting really worried now, for he could see that the water was up to Jon's waist.

"You'll have to make it snappy," Jon spoke as calmly as he could. "I'm sinking deeper all the time."

Again Jak searched swiftly and purposefully about him. He saw something he thought might help and ran swiftly toward one of the smaller trees. With difficulty, because of the scarcity of limbs, he climbed this and soon was hacking, with his machete-like knife, at the long, slender liana or climbing vine that hung downward from it. It took only a few moments to sever the top end, then Jak slid down the trunk and traced the vine to its root, cutting it there. With this long section he ran back to the water's edge.

"Catch," he yelled--but it took several attempts before he could get the unwieldy vine-end near enough for Jon to grasp.

Jak dug his heels into the ground and started pulling. His face grew red, cords stood out in his neck, and his muscles bulged. But quickly the strain proved too great for him. Since he was the lighter and weaker he was being pulled toward the water, rather than freeing his embedded brother.

"I ... can't ... do it," Jak panted, his strength gone, his muscles and limbs aching and trembling.

"Tie your end around a tree. I'll try to work myself out."

Jak did so, and the muscles on Jon's more powerful arms, back and shoulders stood out in ridges as he threw all his splendid young strength into this climactic effort. He pulled, he wriggled about from side to side.

Slow, heartbreaking moments passed as the tug of war continued. Inch by hard-fought inch Jon was withdrawing his imprisoned legs from the sucking, gripping stuff that was so determined not to yield its victim.

But he was still only a boy, and he had neither the strength nor the endurance to continue for long this tremendous struggle. Slowly his efforts grew weaker and less successful. The sand began reclaiming that which it had lost. Before long Jon sank back, and the strain on the vine relaxed.

"Can't ... make it. You've been a great brother...." He tried to smile. "Take care of Mom and Pop ... and break it to them gently."

"Shut up, you dope," Jak yelled, but there was a catch in his voice. "We're not licked yet!"

Desperately his mind raced. He must think of some more effective mode of leverage. If only he knew how to handle the ship! He could bring that here, and with the loading winch in the lock drag his brother loose. But that was out--he didn't know how to handle it.

He thought of going after his mother, but realized quickly that before he got her and brought her back, Jon would be gone.

No, it was strictly up to him--and time was swiftly running out.

5

Jak Carver's eyes searched the edge of the jungle feverishly for any idea--for some means of rescuing his younger brother, embedded in the quicksand of the stream there.

Suddenly he spied a slim but stout-looking tree close to the water's edge ... and a trick the two boys had often played with a small tree in their back yard at home sprang into his mind.

"Got an idea, Jon. Slack off a minute."

For Jon had been trying again and again, as he felt a momentary return of part of his strength, to pull himself free. He had, by this means, barely managed to keep from sinking further, but that was all.

Now, with a quick twist, Jak unfastened the end of the liana from the tree to which he had tied it. "Tie your end about you, just under the arms," he called. Then, placing his end of the vine in his mouth and gripping it firmly with his teeth, he started climbing that slim tree. It was about seven inches in diameter at the base, and some forty to forty-five feet tall.

His brother instantly recognized what he had in mind. So, as Jak climbed, Jon made sure his end was securely fastened about him. Then he grasped the vine firmly with both hands, a few inches in front of his chest.

As Jak climbed ever higher into the tree, the slender sapling bent beneath his weight. He still climbed, but carefully now, on the side nearest the water, so the treetop would bend in that direction. The higher he climbed the tree, the more his weight made it curve downward, so that toward the last, his back was almost parallel to the ground.

Holding with his legs wrapped about the trunk, when he was almost three-quarters of the way up, Jak fastened his end of the liana tautly in place. This was extremely difficult because of his unnatural position, as well as the stiffness of the vine and his having to work with one hand. But without wasting time, he took pains to make sure the knot was tight and secure.

Then he started climbing again, further and further toward the slender top of the now bent tree. But carefully, lest his weight and the bending splinter or snap the treetop as it bent still further.

"Get tight, Jon. Be ready for the yank when I let go."

"All set and line tight. Yell when you drop."

Glancing down to see that the way was clear below him, Jak let his legs go and swung by his arms until he was hanging clear. He yelled sharply and let go--plunging down the fifteen or eighteen feet to the ground.

Disregarding the shock, he scrambled up, and peered closely at the tree, then the vine, then at Jon. The tree was straining to pull back into its accustomed erectness. The liana was taut--but bits of its bark were flecking off. It creaked so alarmingly Jak was afraid it would break.

All the time Jon was wriggling and twisting to help free his feet and legs. And the vine held, as the tree proved its natural strength and desire for an upright position. Slowly but surely Jon's body was pulled from its prison. As he came more nearly free the tree snapped upright so swiftly he was whipped out of the water and a dozen feet onto the sand. He landed, face down, with a terrific jar.

Jak ran up and helped untie the vine. Jon sat up slowly with his brother's help. His face was scuffed where it had slid along the sandy beach, and he slowly, painfully wiped it somewhat clean with his handkerchief. His breath came in gasps from the terrible constriction of the vine about his chest, and from his unusual exertions.

Sympathetically, Jak hovered about until finally Jon's breathing was a bit easier. When his brother started to try to get up, he helped and held him.

"Guess I can make it now." Jon finally broke away and did manage to stand alone, although he still reeled a bit from the fatigue and the terrible ordeal through which he had been.

He walked slowly about, rolling his shoulders and moving his arms and fingers, exercising his cramped muscles. Jak gave him a couple of anti-fatigue pills from his pocket first-aid kit, and Jon swallowed these. Finally, he began collecting his rod and creel.

"They'd danged well better be good to eat," he declared, shaking the offending fish basket.

"It certainly wasn't worth all that narrow escape," Jak said soberly as he took the things from his brother and went over to pick up the little animal carcasses. But when he got there he exclaimed in disgust, "Darn, those ants have eaten them almost all up!"

"We mustn't let Mom know how close I came to not getting back," Jon said as he staggered along the little trail, although as he went his strength and limberness returned somewhat.

"I'll say not. I'll keep my trap shut. One thing's sure, though. There'll be no more fishing trips here."

"Aw, I wouldn't say that," Jon snapped back. "I know enough now to stay on the bank. And if these are good eating, it's too easy a way to get fresh food to waste."

They were just climbing into the lock when again that sudden heavy downpour of rain began.

Jon grinned as he opened the inner door. "Glad to see the rain this time. It'll keep Mom from wondering why my clothes are so wet."

As soon as they had changed to dry clothing, Jon went to clean his "fish," then took them to his mother in the galley. Jak, meanwhile, was in the control room, rearranging and trying to begin the classification of his plant specimens.

When their mother called them to table, the boys sniffed appreciatively at the delicious odor of the nicely browned fish-things.

"They cook nicely, but how do we tell if they're good to eat?" Mrs. Carver asked.

Jak flipped one onto his plate and cut off a tiny portion. "Tell you soon." And he forked the piece into his mouth. With his tongue and teeth he tested it, but did not swallow. "Tastes good," he said a moment later, retrieving the piece with his fork and laying it on the side of his plate. "One more test."

He cut off another small piece and took it into the storeroom, where he placed a piece in one of the cages containing half a dozen white rats. A couple of them came up immediately, smelled the food, then one of them gobbled it up. Jak watched anxiously for a moment, then gave another rat a piece. It, too, gobbled it up, and then joined the rest who were pressed against the wires begging for more. Jak stood watching for one minute, then two, then three. Satisfied that the meat had done the rodents no harm, he returned to the table.

"It's all right," he said and began eating. "The rats liked it and it didn't seem to hurt them."

The others pitched in then, and soon the entire platterful was reduced to a pile of bones on the three plates.

"How's Father been today," Jak asked. "He was asleep when I glanced at him after getting back."

"He moved about several times, tossing and groaning a bit, and seeming to be trying to touch his broken leg, although...."

"Probably it itches inside the cast," Jak said.

"He didn't regain full consciousness, but I tried spooning some concentrated broth into his mouth, and he was able to swallow a little of it."

"Golly, that's great!" Jak exclaimed in relief. "His drifting out of his coma from time to time shows there is no real damage to his brain, and now he's evidently beginning to come out of the concussion."

"Whatever it is, I feel more sure he'll soon regain consciousness and be all right." Mrs. Carver spoke with quiet confidence.

"Of course he will, Mom. Pop's too tough for a busted leg and a bump on the head to kill him." Jon smiled at her comfortingly.

"As the surface wound heals, the brain tissues beneath will also be healing," Jak said pedantically. "As long as we can keep him fed and otherwise healthy, the concussion will grow less and finally dissipate entirely."

"Doctor Carver, I presume." Jon sniggered, and his brother flushed a bit, then poked him in the ribs.

Jon tried not to wince at that light jab. Luckily their mother had not noticed anything so, as quickly as possible, he said, "Well, Owl, let's hit the sack. Want to move around this planet tomorrow and get our pics and info, then take a look at the others."

Jak started to protest, but caught his brother's almost imperceptible but frantic signal, and changed his words. "Maybe Jon's right at that, and we should get an early start. 'Night, Mother."

"Good night, Boys." She responded to their kisses, and soon the two were in their bunkroom, with the door closed.

Jak turned swiftly on his brother. "What's the big idea, making us go to bed so early, and why that funny look you gave me?"

"I had to get out of there." Jon winced as he began taking off his shirt, and Jak crammed his fist into his mouth to keep from crying out as he saw the great, angry red welts and the terrible black-and-blue splotches on Jon's torso.

"Great guns! What happened?"

"That vine must have really hurt when it pulled me loose from that quicksand. I didn't notice it particularly, though, until you poked me in the ribs."

Jak quickly dragged his large first-aid kit from its place in the wall cupboard, and opened it. "Lie down on the bunk, and I'll fix you up," he said as he took out tubes of unguents, bottles of antiseptic and rolls of bandages and plasters from the kit. "Golly, kid, I had no idea you were in that shape, or I'd have done this before."

Jon gritted his teeth as the other gently felt to see if any ribs were broken, and later as Jak applied the healing lotions and sometimes smarting antiseptics. But he could not entirely restrain his exclamations of pain, although he muffled them with his pillow lest their mother hear and come to investigate. He knew his brother was being sympathetically gentle, and when at last it was done, Jon did feel easier. The burning had largely stopped, and some of the ache was gone.

"I'd better give you some barbit so you'll sleep sounder." Jak shook two small pills from a bottle. "The calmer you sleep, the less you'll mess up those dressings, and the quicker you'll heal."

He got a glass of water and Jon took the pills and washed them down. "You do have your uses now and then," he growled, but the grateful look in his eyes belied the ungraciousness of his words--and Jak was well content.

* * * * *

In the morning much of the soreness and discoloration was gone, and there was no sign of inflammation or pus. After Jak had again tended to the abrasions and friction sores, the two boys dressed and went in to breakfast.

Their mother was in good spirits. "Mr. C.'s breathing seems much easier than it was," she announced with delight.

They all went in to see him, and while Jak was redressing the now almost healed head wound, Jon looked on happily.

"Won't be long now." He hugged his mother joyfully.

"I hope not," she sighed. "He does seem to be getting better, though."

"We're lucky we still have him, Mother." Jak's voice was serious. "If that rock had even touched him, it would have been the end. His leg looks OK--no signs of swelling or inflammation."

Breakfast was quiet, and as soon as they finished Jon rose purposefully. "I'll take us up now, and we'll cruise around and see what we can see. Have to take lots of recordings and pictures, you know."

"Are you sure you understand all that has to be done?" His mother's voice was anxious.

"Sure, Mom. It tells all about it on the papers the Colonial Board furnished. All we have to do is follow their instructions. You coming, Jak?"

"Right with you." His brother hastily drank the rest of his coffee and rose, wiping his mouth. "Be sure you strap down at the signal, Mother, if you aren't coming with us."

She flashed him a smile. "I will. Meanwhile, I'll clear the table--if I have time?" She looked questioningly at Jon.

"Sure, it'll take ten--fifteen minutes to get ready, and I'll give you a couple of one-minute warnings."

When all was ready, Jak strapped himself down in the co-pilot's seat, the book of instructions in his hand. Jon touched the stud of the buzzer, waited a full minute then punched two buzzes. Then he nodded at his brother.

"Close fuel dump valves," Jak said, referring to the manual.

"Valves closed."

"Switch on fuel pumps."

"Pumps on."

"Switch on generators."

"Gens on."

"Open all oil valves."

"Oil open."

"Check heaters."

"Heaters on."

"Check refrigerators."

"Frigs on."

"Fire tube one and balance."

Jon snapped a switch. A dull rumbling began and the ship seemed to strain as the first tube started functioning, although at minimum strength. He carefully watched a dial to see that it was working smoothly.

Finally, "Tube one firing."

In like manner tubes four, two and then three were started and tested, and finally reported firing evenly. The ship seemed more than ever straining, as though anxious to get into the air and into free space--but remained on the ground.

"Up landing props."

Jon touched another stud, and they could feel the motor lifting the landing props into their slots in the hull.

"Take off."

The roar deepened as Jon increased the amounts of fuel being fed into the tubes. The ship lifted effortlessly, easily, into the air.

"Check acceleration pressure."

"Normal to speed."

"Check altimeter."

"One thousand seven hundred."

"Level off."