Chapter III: Part 3

A moment of maneuvering, then Jon reported, "Ship level at twenty-four hundred, traveling parallel to ground surface."

"Check rocket balance."

"All tubes on balance."

"Switch on auto-pilot."

"Auto on, but keeping ready to switch back to manual if necessary."

Jak loosened his straps and went to look out of the port, but Jon kept his gaze fastened on the lookout plate before him, his hands resting lightly on the controls, although they were not connected now.

Beneath them the land was sliding by, as the ship cruised at the slow speed, for it, of just under a thousand miles an hour. The boys saw the same sort of jungle forests, the same occasional clearings. From time to time the glint of water revealed rivers or lakes, the latter seldom more than a mile or so in width or length.

After nearly an hour, they were flying above a huge plain, covered with some sort of grass or grain. They had been above this for some minutes when Jon uttered an exclamation and Jak came up quickly to see what his brother had spotted in the magnifier-screen.

"Look down there, Owl," the younger brother was excited. "Thousands of cattle!"

"Whew! Most like those old buffalo-herds we read the old pioneers saw on the western plains of Noramer. Hey, those things are tripeds, too, like the big one we shot, and the rabbits."

"Yes, I see. Must be the usual thing here. But those down there are smaller, like cows. Wonder if they're good to eat, or give milk?"

"Don't know, but we sure want to report this."

He took several pictures with the recording camera, then made notations in the data book. The two continued watching until the tremendous herd was out of sight behind them, and they were flying once more above a great forest. They had gone almost two thousand miles when they saw ahead and downward the beginnings of what was either an ocean or a great sea. As they drew closer, they still could not see its further shore.

"I don't remember this from before, do you?" Jon looked perplexed.

"Yes, I think this must be the one we saw part of from the north--that is, I assume it was north, as we were near the icecap. But I didn't realize it was so...."

"Hey, look down there! That proves I was right." Jon pointed triumphantly toward his visiplate. "See those high-water marks along the shore? That means this moon is big enough to cause tides, same as Luna does to Terra."

"What good, really, are tides?"

"Why," superciliously, "they're one of the most useful things God has given man. They ... they...." Jon stopped, flushed, then laughed. "Darned if I know what they're good for. Of course, if they're high enough, men can make tide-motors and produce power, but now that we've got atomics, we don't need those."

"I suppose we should record them, though." Jak was tactful enough not to laugh.

"Yes, write it down."

They were over an hour passing above this ocean, and had begun to wonder if it was greater in extent than Terra's Pacific. But finally they made out in the distance the dim blueness of the farther shore.

"That's some ocean all right. Shows there's lots of water here on Two."

"With those heavy rains there'd almost have to be. This'll be of special interest to colonists--means not only plenty of water, but if that stream was any example, there'll be lots of fish down there to start a big food industry later."

About two hundred miles past the eastern shore of the ocean, they saw the blue of mountains in the decreasing distance. Soon Jon had to rise higher and higher to clear them safely. Some of the individual peaks seemed to be nearly five miles high, and one or two of them, almost at the range of visibility, the boys estimated to be even taller.

"Probably lots of metals here," Jon commented. "I'll swing back and over them again, and let 'Annie' get to work."

"Yes, this list says to report on metallic ores. Say, doesn't it seem funny to you that there are no people on a world as capable as this of supporting life? Wonder why?"

"No telling. Pop says lots of Earthlike planets don't have any inhabitants capable of any sort of civilization. But that means more ready-made worlds for Terrans to colonize."

Jon made their ship circle above the mountains while the boys took readings with the spectro-analyzer. Then they started on again. After almost another hour, when they were over one of the few desert places they had seen, Jon suddenly leaned forward with a little intake of breath that his brother noticed.

"What's up?"

"Not sure. But listen to 'Annie' click. From the reading, I think there must be some of that metal Pop was so positive about, down there somewhere."

"The stuff for a new fuel?"

"Yes. We don't know it'd be any good as fuel, but its atomic weight seems to be so high Pop was all excited when the spectrogram of this sun showed it. He said he felt sure we'd find it on at least one of these planets."

"It'll take a lot of time to locate it exactly, won't it?"

"Not too much, with the new gadgets they have for locating metal ores." Jon tried not to sound impatient with his brother's ignorance. "We've got one that lets us cruise around in the air and spot it fairly close, then land and find the exact place quite easily."

"What sort of gadget?"

Jon shrugged. "Don't know exactly how they work, but I can use one. Something like a spectroscope that works without first having to heat the metals into gas. Plus something like those old Geiger counters they used to trace radioactives. Plus some other ideas the technies put into them. It tells about them in one of our reelbooks there. You go get ours--I think it's in Bin 14, in the storeroom. Looks like a small black suitcase with carrying straps. Meanwhile, I'll get ready to set us down."

"I'll hurry so's to be back to read the routine for you."

While his brother was gone, Jon activated the bow retarders--after snapping off the stern tubes. Then he sent the ship into a curve that would bring them back nearer the place where he wanted to land. But only part of his mind was doing that--the rest was wondering why there had to be so much fuss and detail in landing and taking-off with a ship. Why couldn't it be fixed so one man could navigate and pilot without all this bother? It ought not to be too difficult....

Jak was soon back with the recorder, and Jon showed him how to read it. Soon they located what seemed to be the center of that strange disturbance, and with Jak's help, Jon set the ship down on the sand, fairly close to where they thought that hoped-for metal or its ore might be found.

When the two boys went into the living room, they told their mother what they had landed for, and that they were going out to look for the source of this excitement.

"Is it really necessary?" she asked anxiously. "Mr. C. didn't say anything to me about any such thing. Haven't we got fuel enough to get home on?"

"Sure, Mom," Jon hastened to explain. "But Pop thought this new stuff would be a lot more powerful than the fuel we're using. Said it ought to give us far greater cruising range with lots less storage space. If we found something of the sort, it would be a great contribution to space travel."

"That's right," Jak added, "and if we do find such a thing here, miners will soon be flocking after it, and that'll mean _beaucoup_ credits for us."

"Well," doubtfully, "I guess you know best. Your father seems to be growing better, and lets me feed him, even though he hasn't ever seemed to regain full consciousness. If you are sure this is what he'd do if awake, I suppose it is what you should do."

* * * * *

"Looks like a funny place for ore," Jon said as the two boys left the ship and started at a fast pace in the direction "Annie" had pointed out as the center of activity. "I'd have expected it to be in the mountains, not in a desert like this."

"Yes, I was wondering about that." The elder brother shook his head slowly. "But you can tell there's something here. What is it we're really looking for? Oh, I know it's metal or ore of some kind," he added hurriedly as he saw Jon start a retort. "What I mean is, is it ore or natural nuggets, and is it radioactive, or what?"

Jon grinned as he trotted along. "Don't really know much more than you. I know how to detect it, and I'll know it if we find it. But to tell ahead of time, I haven't the minnow of an idea."

They had actually gone less than a quarter of a mile when the heat of the sun, reflected from the hot, white, desert sand, became almost unbearable. Finally Jak stopped, wiping the pouring perspiration from his face and neck. "We can't take much of this. Better go back and get our suits."

"Yes, guess you're right." Jon was also working his handkerchief overtime. "The refrigs in them will keep us cooler, even if they're harder to walk in."

"And the suit-goggles will protect us better from the actinic rays of this sun," Jak said. "We're so close--only sixty-five or seventy millions, you said?--that the solar rays are lots stronger than those we get back on Terra, even in the deserts."

"Sure, those jungle trees protected us before, so we didn't notice them."

Their mother heard them as they returned and came to see what the trouble was. When they explained, as they were putting on their suits, she again warned them to be careful.

Then she added, somewhat hastily, "It's just a mother's instinct to keep warning her children to be careful. I know you boys always are--the fact that you came back rather than take chances shows this. Please don't feel badly that I keep nagging at you."

"Heck, Mom, we know you aren't nagging." Jon hugged her. "If you ever quit warning us, that's when we'd really get worried."

Their suits on and the refrigerators working, the pair began retracing their steps. Jon led the way, since he was carrying the detector. They went in a decreasing spiral to locate the center, then made a beeline for that spot.

But after almost a mile the signal seemed to grow weaker, and they stopped for a conference.

"Must have passed it," Jon said over his suit-radio as his puzzled eyes studied the meters on the finder.

"Try going back thirty or forty yards to the right, then back toward the left," Jak suggested.

Soon Jon shouted and started off in a new direction, but more slowly, and Jak ran quarteringly toward him.

Inside half a mile Jon lost the beam again, and once more they quartered to find it. In narrower and narrower circles they searched.

Suddenly Jak stumbled and fell to the ground. As he started to rise, Jon heard his excited yell coming through his earphones.

6

At his brother's eager cry, Jon ran over toward where the older boy was stooping down, examining carefully something almost completely embedded in the sand. He saw Jak rise, take his shovel from the carrying straps on his suit's back, and start uncovering whatever it was he had stumbled over.

As Jon came up, he uttered an exclamation of surprise. "Why ... what ... that's a metal plate. What is it, Jak?"

"Don't ... know ... yet," the elder panted as he worked even more feverishly with his shovel. Jon quickly laid down the detector, which was clicking excitedly, to unsling his own shovel and begin digging.

In a few moments they had completely bared the metal plate, and could now see it was about ten by four feet, and hinged on one side.

"Looks like a trap door."

"Sure does. Lend a hand--let's see if we can open it."

The crack along the edge was not wide enough for the gloved fingers of their suits, so Jon inserted his shovel tip in the crack as a prize. Jak did the same and after many attempts--for it was much heavier even than they expected--they managed to lift the edge a bit.

"Can you hold it alone a sec?" Jak asked.

"Try," Jon threw his whole weight on the end of the shovel handle, while Jak quickly found a small stone and wedged it in the opening. Then, with Jon moving his shovel farther and farther back along the edge, Jak pushed ever larger stones closely behind him, and they finally managed to get the cover high enough so they were able to tip it back, but only after considerable straining and puffing.

"What do you suppose is down there?" Jon hopped about, digging at the sand with his boot tip.

"Don't know, but it has sure been a long time since anyone used this." Jak spoke slowly.

"How can you tell?"

"Because of all the sand that's sifted in here, silly. You don't think this is just a box of sand, do you? It could have been here thousands and thousands of years."

"You mean ... there were people living here then?"

The elder boy shook his head. "Maybe yes, maybe no. It could have been folks who merely visited here. Well, what do we do now?"

Jon picked up his shovel. "You're the one that's silly now. We clear it out and look."

For some time the two made the sand fly, then Jak's shovel struck metal, and feverishly the two concentrated on that spot. Another few minutes and they could see it was a large metal chest that almost filled this covered, metal-lined pit. When they finally had the top of the box completely exposed, they found its cover fastened with a simple hasp, which was quickly opened. Then they lifted this second lid.

Inside, the box was completely filled with thousands of small cubes of some sort of glistening metal. Jak started to reach for one but Jon struck his hand away.

"Listen to that detector--it has gone crazy," he yelled. "That stuff's deadly radioactive, I bet." He started to scramble out of the hole after slamming down the lid. "We get out of here, but fast. Then we talk about it."

Jak had sense enough to heed his brother's warning, and lost no time in following. Some little distance away, the two stopped to debate what they were to do.

"You know what I think?" Jon's eyes gleamed. "I think this was a fuel cache left by people who used to make trips around the galaxy, and not something left by people who once lived here."

"You're nuts. Who--and when--and why didn't they ever come to Terra, if they had space-flight? If they came this close, wouldn't they have gone there, too?"

"Not necessarily--space is so big and Sol is relatively small, you know. But maybe they did get to Earth, at that." Jon grew more thoughtful. "Remember our reading about all the strange things people reported seeing, hundreds...."

"You mean those old 'flying saucer' reports a couple of centuries ago?"

"Yes, them. And even before that, there'd been reports of strange airships and things. Why, there was one--that's almost four hundred years ago--of a Dutch sea captain who saw something in the air above the Indi Ocean and reported it in his log. Even made a sketch of it, that was almost exactly like those made later by people who said they'd seen it."

"_Mmmm_," Jak had been thinking back, "then maybe the Bible story of Ezekiel's 'wheel within a wheel' he saw in the air, was one?"

"Sure. Earth people for centuries have seen all sorts of unknown things."

"Then maybe your idea isn't so wild, after all."

"The question now is," Jon ignored the apology, "how do we take some of this stuff back to the ship, and how do we test it to see if it's fuel--or don't we?"

"That's more your line than mine. What do you suggest?"

Jon thought seriously for several minutes, then brightened. "You stay here so I can see where I'm going, and I'll go get the ship and bring it here. Then we'll try one of those cubes in the generator."

"You ... you think it's safe?"

"What would get you, out here in this desert?"

"I didn't mean that, and you know it. I meant, do you think it's safe to try this stuff that way?"

"Oh, that? Sure." Jon threw down the extra things he was carrying, and started away at a trot.

When he reached the ship and was inside the airlocks, he called to his mother as he was sitting down at the controls.

"What's the matter, Jon?" she asked as she came in and saw him working at the controls. "And where's Jak?"

"We found something out there too heavy to carry, and Jak's watching it while I bring up the ship. Strap down."

She sank into the co-pilot's seat and fastened the broad belt about her even as Jon was activating the generator and tubes. Raggedly, since he was trying to handle the controls and read the directions at the same time--it simply didn't occur to him to ask his mother to read them to him--the boy finally got the ship into the air.

"What is it you've found?" His mother could contain her curiosity no longer.

"Something we think is that new fuel Pop talked about, but it's radioactive and we didn't dare try to carry it without special equipment," he told her absently as the ship began lowering.

He maneuvered it to a bumpy landing close to his brother, whom they could now see through the port, excitedly waving his arms at them. "We think it's something some other people left here as a cache, a long, long time ago," Jon explained as he put his controls in neutral, his voice an excited squeak.

"Some other Earth people?" she asked incredulously. "You mean we aren't the first ones here, after all?"

"No, we don't think it was Terrans," he said as he unstrapped. But before he could get out of the seat, they heard the lockdoor mechanisms working, and knew Jak was coming inboard, so the two stayed in the control room. Jon answered his mother's anxious questions as best he could.

Jak soon came running in and the two boys held a quick council, almost ignoring their mother in the excitement of trying to figure a safe way of bringing some of the fuel-stuff aboard and trying it out.

But at last she made herself heard. "I think you should wait and let Mr. C. decide about this," she said with determination.

"How is he--awake?"

"About the same--still unconscious."

"Then don't you see, Mom, that there's no telling when he'll wake up, and we don't want to wait that long?"

"I still say you mustn't take the chance of blowing us all to Kingdom Come before you can have his advice and help in deciding what to do with that new, untried and dangerous metal," she declared so firmly that they could not ignore her. "Now you listen to your mother. This is once when I'm setting my foot down. I will _not_ let you do it!"

Nor could their pleas move her.

"All right, Mother," Jak finally conceded defeat with--if the truth must be told--an inner sense of relief. He, too, had been more than a little afraid of that untried stuff. But Jon had seemed so sure, while he knew very little about it. "We'll leave it here while we go set our markers on the other planets."

"Unless Pop wakes up before we're finished here," Jon added sullenly, somewhat humiliated because he felt his mother was treating him like a little boy instead of the man and scientist he now considered himself to be. "When he does, though, you'll see he'll say we should have tried it."

His mother, understanding well how he felt, but still worried over the possibilities for danger her anxious mind insisted on painting, patted his shoulder. "In that case, Son," she said softly, "I'll apologize."

"We'd better go out and shut that trap door and mark the place some way before we leave." Jak tried to lighten the tension.

"I'll take measurements of where we are, and that'll do just as well." Jon's voice still held that injured tone.

Mrs. Carver kept her voice level, but her eyes caught and held those of her younger son. "I'm sorry if I seem too stubborn about this, Jon; but I just don't like the idea of you boys trying to handle, alone, something you don't know anything about, especially since you yourselves admit that it's highly dangerous."

Jon's petulance slowly disappeared, and finally he grinned and kissed her. "You're right, as always, Mom. I'm getting too big for my coveralls. I'll calculate courses to One, and to and around the sun, and we'll let this ride until Pop wakes up."

While Jak and Mrs. Carver busied themselves at other tasks, Jon sweated over the complicated math of the new courses. He knew how important this was, especially the plan he had in mind for placing the marker in its orbit about the sun. He knew their very lives depended on the correctness of his calculations. So he did them slowly, carefully, and checked them closely to make sure he had done them right and made no mistakes.

But when he was finished, he put the sheets of calculations in a drawer, took more paper and figured the courses over a second time. That solution he also put in the drawer, and figured it the third time, without consulting what he had done before.

When he had completed this third computation he took out the other two sets and compared the three. All came out exactly the same ... and he gasped in relief and sank back, trembling with thankfulness, in the pilot's seat. They must be right.

* * * * *

While Mrs. Carver and her sons were eating lunch they heard a weak call from the bunkroom, and ran in to find their father fully awake. He seemed surprised at his condition, but Jak explained swiftly what had happened, and Jon told briefly what they had done and were planning to do next.

"That's good; that's very good," he said drowsily, and before Jon could say anything about finding that new metal, his father had again sunk into sleep--or unconsciousness; not even Jak could tell which.

"Well," Jon tried to be brave about his disappointment, "I guess we'll just have to go ahead. But isn't it swell that Pop woke up fully?"

"It certainly is." Mrs. Carver had tears of joy in her eyes. "Now we know he'll soon be all right."

The trip to Planet One--"Tad"--was neither long nor eventful, once they got started. They found, as expected, that the small world--smaller than Sol's Mercury--was so close to the sun that it was fearfully hot, even on the equator, or "intermediate" zone.

Despite the refrigerators on the ship, it was becoming hot inside, and all stripped as far as decency allowed. The planet had no real atmosphere, but many of the metals--indeed, the very rocks, themselves--were so largely molten, especially on the eternally sunward side, that there was a fog of gasses about the surface. These gaseous emanations were in a state of motion much like that of Earthly cyclones, constantly swirling and blowing with terrific velocity.

The boys carefully examined their spectro-analyzer, but "Annie" showed none of that strange fuel-metal they were so keen to locate in its natural state. "Maybe we found all there is here," Jak suggested.

"Perhaps, but somehow I can't feel that way." Jon's voice was worried. "I must have slipped somewhere. Don't see how just one boxful could have shown up so clearly from as many light years away as we first discovered it."

Despite the conditions the young planet mappers found here on One, the Colonial law required that a sending beacon be set up on ALL planets, or else in an orbit about them. They decided to place theirs on top of one of the highest of the small mountains that comprised the twilight zone.

Jon made up the tape for this planet's signal-marker, while Jak brought it from the storeroom. When the tape was installed and running, the sender was placed in the lock between the inner and outer doors, and the boys returned to the control room.

Jon directed the ship toward the range of mountains and when he neared them Jak--from his co-pilot's seat--worked the remote controls and the outer lockdoor swung open. Then he activated the "distant hands"--the handling mechanism that was an integral part of the airlock's equipment, for handling materials into and out of the ship.

Watching through his special visiplate--really a sort of two-way television--Jak made the grips pick up the signal-sender box, ready to deposit it on the hard, hot ground outside when Jon would swoop down over the pre-selected mountaintop.

"Move it outside," Jon called, and Jak did so. "Set it down." Jon yelled, and as soon as he was sure Jak had placed the sender solidly, sent the space-yacht rising higher and away from the planet. Then Jak closed the outer door; turned in his co-pilot's seat, and tuned in their receiver. Soon they caught the message and knew everything was jetting fair.

"Nice going, Owl," Jon applauded.

"Aw, you're just saying that because it's true," Jak grunted, and Jon turned his attention once more to his controls and the new course he had plotted for their swing around the sun of this system, now less than thirty million miles away.

"How close d'you go?" Jak was more interested than fearful, having confidence in his brother's skill.

"We have to follow a course so that when the sender is dumped, it will take up a closed orbit--the more nearly circular the better--around the sun. Also, we'll have to have speed enough so we won't get fried to a crisp at the near-point, which figures to be about ten million miles."

"Isn't that pretty close?" their mother, who had slipped into the control room quietly just after Jak had placed the sender, tried not to sound too frightened.

"Relax, Mother, the kid knows what he's doing," Jak tried to calm her.

"I've figured this three times, Mom," Jon said earnestly. "Got the same answer each time, so I _know_ we can do it."

"Well," still doubtfully, "I guess you do know what you are doing, but that seems awfully close." She struggled with herself and finally managed a weak smile. "I promised to let you boys make the decisions. I'll go lie down in my bunk so I won't know what's happening until it's all over."

"You do that, Mother. I'm not worrying. Jon really knows his stuff," Jak assured her brightly. But as soon as she had left the control room, he turned worried eyes to his brother. "I ... I hope you actually do, Chubby." His voice quavered a bit.

Jon grinned mockingly. "There's one sure thing. If I'm wrong, we'll never know it. But I've studied this a lot since I knew it was up to me. I know the technique and, as I said before, I've computed our course three times and come up with the same figures each time. And we have to set it as close as possible. Now, either hit your bunk or set your seat to recline. We're up to better than two G's already, and I'm building to five."

"Yes, I feel us getting heavier. I'll stay with you." Jak made sure his straps were in place, then tilted his seat.

Jon cranked his own to recline, the control panel automatically slanting to keep it in the same relative position. His arms were resting on movable slides, and the controls he would have to manipulate on this dangerous orbit were all beneath his hands and fingers.

Closer and closer they drove to the sun with ever mounting speed. Their gallant little ship's refrigerators were full on; all shutters in place. Their only view of the outside was through one visiplate whose aperture was closed until only a tiny slit was open. But it was enough, although Jon was forced to keep building up layer after layer of protective, colored plastic to make the intense, blinding light of the swiftly approaching sun bearable.

Clearly visible now were the tremendous streamers of matter the sun was throwing up as prominences. Jon was able to see huge sunspots occurring here and there about the surface of that mighty furnace--tremendous cyclonic storms of atomic disintegration. So interested was he in this first close view of a sun that he almost forgot the reason for this dangerous trip.

Almost--but not quite, for his mind was well-trained to remember the things that had to be recalled, young as he was. So his eyes glanced often at the distance gauge. Soon he yelled at Jak, "Get ready to throw out the sender."

Jak struggled to place his hands on the controls, a thing he had not had the foresight to do before Jon started building up that tremendous acceleration. His muscles strained. Sweat broke out on him even worse than that the heat from the sun brought. His breathing became gasps. There seemed to be a constricting band about his chest. His eyes felt as though the balls were being pushed down into his head. He just couldn't possibly move a muscle under this terrible pressure.

Still he exerted every force of will and of muscle. Slowly, painfully, he stretched out his fingertips a fraction of an inch. He dug them into the fabric of the arm rest and pulled the palm of his hand along. Then he forced the rest of his arm to follow his fingers and hand. Over and over, straining to do what had to be done. Then victory at last--his hand and arm were on the sliding arms. Now it was easier, and soon his fingers were on the controls.

"S-say when," he panted then.

"Open the outer door now ... we're almost there," Jon commanded, watching his controls intently. "We're going ... so fast ... won't have ... much time."

"You're sure ... sender'll keep ... correct orbit?"

"Sure," Jon's voice was confident. "If we don't dump ... exactly on zero ... it'll just change shape ... of orbit a little ... that's all."

"Door open," Jak reported a moment later.

"Lift sender, but don't eject yet."

"Right."

More minutes while the heat increased, and even through that tiny aperture and the covering shields, the blinding light was coming in so fiercely Jon was tempted to close it entirely. Then, with a snort of disgust at his stupidity, he did close it--and breathed a sigh of relief as that piercing beam died. He didn't need to see. There was no reason to look. Even if there was, it was too late now to do anything about it. If his calculations were correct, the ship would get away safely. If his figures were wrong ... he shuddered. Well, they'd never know it, that was for sure.

He made himself forget that dire possibility and kept his eyes glued to his indicators.

"Almost there."

"Ready." Jak tensed his hand and fingers above the controls. He hoped he could do it when the time came. But this awful heat ... this horrible acceleration pressure....

"Drop it!" Jon yelled suddenly.

Jak tensed hand and fingers and tried to depress the button. It seemed he couldn't move. He gritted his teeth, and again called upon his inner strength, his will. From that hidden depth he found that extra measure of energy necessary to curve his fingertip downward.

His eyes, peering into the shielded intercom visiplate, saw those distant hands--the servo-mechanism in the lock--swing the box out through the opened doorway. When he could no longer see it, because of the angle at which his visiplate was set, he touched and depressed the second button. Now, if the mechanism was still functioning in spite of that terrific heat, its arms were opening and the box slipping away.

He withdrew the handling arms, and as they came into sight again he saw with satisfaction that they were empty. He locked them into their cradle, then closed the outer lockdoor.

"Done," he reported thankfully ... and let himself go. Unconsciousness claimed him at once. Why suffer, had been his thought, when he could so easily sleep until this intolerable pressure was gone.

So quickly did he slip away he did not realize that Jon, too, after a final quick glance at his board, and knowing that everything necessary had been done, had also relaxed into unconsciousness. Did not know, or care, that their ship was now speeding around and away from the sun. Did not realize that all four of the Carvers were now unconscious.

But their blackout did not last too long. In a few hours, during which the auto-pilot took them smoothly and accurately away from that titanic furnace, safety distance was attained and the frightful acceleration began to ease.

By the time they were traveling at a little less than two gravities, Jon stirred. His memory cells began functioning once more, and slowly he awakened. As soon as he realized where he was, and why, he glanced at his various telltales.

"We made it!" he yelled triumphantly. Then, as he heard no reply from his brother, he quickly raised his seat to upright, and turned to look at Jak. The latter was still lying down, his face white and strained.

Quickly, anxiously, Jon released himself and sprang across to his brother's side. He rubbed Jak's wrists and temples. Soon the flush of returning blood showed, and the elder sighed and opened his eyes.

"We made it!" Jon cried again as he pushed Jak's seat into erect. "Everything went off shark-y."

Jak struggled into full consciousness, then began loosening his straps. "Mother and Father?" he exclaimed. "Did they come through all right?"

7

At Jak's question, Jon started. "Haven't looked yet. Let's go see."

The two raced into the living room and into their parents' bunkroom. Mrs. Carver was just opening her eyes, and seeing the boys' anxious looks, struggled to sit up. They helped her, and Jak turned quickly to look at his father. To his relief, the latter's pulse was no weaker, and his breathing was regular.

"We got through all safely," Jon assured his mother, and she threw her arms about him and broke into tears. "Hey, no need of crying now; it's all over."

"I know." She reached down for a corner of her apron and wiped her eyes. "Just relief, I guess. Is Mr. C. all right?" she asked Jak.

"Didn't seem to hurt him a bit."

Indeed, just then there was a mutter from Mr. Carver's lips, and his eyelids fluttered open.

The three gathered closely beside him, and were tremendously heartened at the look of sane awareness in his eyes.

"Hullo?" as though surprised to find himself in bed and the others gathered about him. "Did I oversleep?"

Jak reached out and took his father's hand. "No, Father. You've been a little ill and unconscious, that's all. But you're almost well now. A bit more rest and you'll be all OK."

The invalid looked surprised, then doubtfully at his wife, who quickly stooped and kissed him. "Jak's right, Mr. C. You get some more sleep so you'll get strong quicker."

Dutifully he closed his eyes and immediately his regular breathing told the three he was asleep once more.

Quietly Jak drew the others out of the bunkroom and closed the door. Then his eyes shone and he grabbed his mother and danced her about, while Jon "tried to get into the act."

"He's almost well; he's almost well!" Jak chanted.

Jon yelled in honest praise. "You did a grand job, Owl." But his voice broke into a boyish treble with the excitement.

After several minutes of jubilation, Jon went back into the control room and began figuring their course to Planet Three.

He turned on the receiver and pointed the directional antenna. Soon the broadcast of their solar signal came in. This one about the sun had most worried him, but he could read it clearly: "This solar system was first discovered and charted by Tad Carver of Terra, on fourteenth January, 2136. It has been named 'Carveria,' and the five planets and seven satellites are being charted and named. Details will be filed with the Terran Colonial Board."

Finally Jon finished his astrogation, then went back into the living quarters. "Ready to set course to Three, Folks. Strap down while I change course."

"How long'll it take?"

"Just under a couple of days at two G's."

"Ouch! Do we have to go that fast?" Jak complained.

"You want to get there, don't you?" Jon turned away indifferently, while Mrs. Carver smiled at Jak and shrugged.

During the balance of that "day" Jon stayed in the control room. When either of the others looked in, he was studying intently. Right after breakfast the next morning he put in a long session at the computer and his drawing board, then after lunch went into the storeroom. After a while he came out with his arms filled with wires, cells, relays and other oddments, which he carried into the control room.

The others, busy with their own work and chores, paid no special attention to what Jon was doing. Seeing him busy like this had become so commonplace they seldom bothered even asking what he was doing when he did not volunteer the information.

But as they approached Planet Three early the following morning, under negative acceleration, all three were in the control room, peering intently into the visiplates.

What would they find there? Would there be people of some sort? Cities? Jungles, deserts, ice fields?

All three minds were busy with such conjectures as they came closer in. Their instruments had already told them Three possessed an atmosphere containing water vapor, so they knew it could not be entirely untenable, unless the air contained poisonous gases. But what real conditions they would discover there remained to be seen.

They had already found, charted and photographed the two small moons that circled the planet. One of these was fairly large--about nine hundred miles in diameter, and the other much smaller, about a hundred and fifty. Three, itself, was about five thousand miles through.

"There are clouds down there," Jak called suddenly as they approached ever nearer at constantly decreasing speed.

"Yes, I see them."

"And there's a big ocean!" Their mother was equally excited.

"Three's only about thirty million farther away than Two, although on the opposite side of the sun right now. So there shouldn't be too much difference, except Three'll be colder," Jon stated. "We're about a hundred miles up now, so I'm throwing us into a descending spiral."

"There's a big mountain range, and some of the peaks are snow-covered," Jak called out a few minutes later.

"I see them. We're down to about twenty miles now, and I'm setting a crisscross orbit for two or three revolutions to get a better view and take our first pictures. Mom, if you can tear yourself away, I'm hungry."

She stepped back from the screen, laughing. "You're always hungry." Then she glanced at her wrist-chronom and gasped in dismay. "No wonder--it's over an hour past lunchtime!"

"We'll yell if anything especially interesting shows up," Jak called as she was leaving.

By circling the planet from east to west they kept to the daylight side most of the time, and as the hours passed they were able to get most of their pictures and reports on the geography, climate and other conditions. Their spectro-analyzer showed considerable mineral deposits in many of the places over which they passed.

They saw plenty of vegetation and Jon exclaimed about its coloring.

"Must be fall here," Jak explained. "Unless, of course, those plants don't contain chlorophyll, which I doubt."

But nowhere did they see anything that looked like the works of intelligent beings. Like Planet Two, there was no sign of people anywhere.

When they became so tired they could no longer keep awake, Jon set the ship into a higher, safer orbit, and they all went to bed. Their father had awakened only once during the day, and then only for a few minutes, nor had his wife allowed him to talk, greatly as the boys, especially, desired it.

* * * * *

After breakfast the next morning Jon maneuvered the ship down closer to the surface and they completed exploring the planet, taking their pictures and recordings. Jak made tests and reported the atmosphere not poisonous, although so scant they would have to wear suits most of the time when outdoors.

"It's lots better than Mars, but not near as dense as Terra or Two back there," he told Jon. "Temp's below freezing, but I imagine it'll get warmer when the sun's nearer noon here."

"Humans can adapt themselves to living here, then." Jon's voice was joyful. "They've already colonized planets worse than this, as far as temperature and air are concerned."

"Yes, the human animal seems to be marvelously adaptable to almost any conditions not actually poisonous," Jak said admiringly. "There's even a colony of people from the High Andes of Souamer living on Mars now, without domes."

"They could transport those Andean Indians to Mars direct because they were used to living in the rarefied atmosphere of the high mountains, eh?"

"That's right. Those Indians would have suffocated at sea level back on Terra. Indeed, they seldom went down the mountains below ten thousand feet because of the discomfort. On Mars, they had some difficulty at first, but I understand the second generation born there are perfectly at home."

Jon's blue eyes had been watching his detectors, even while his ears had been listening to Jak's explanations. So far he had not discovered any of that strange fuel-metal--if it was fuel--they had found on Two. He spoke of this now to his brother. "Wonder if those people didn't leave any caches here on Three, or what?"

"Maybe they didn't like cold weather." Jak grinned. "More likely, though, either we haven't come close enough to detect it, or else they may only have made a cache on one planet in a system."

"That's probably it. I've been watching for it all the way in, and 'Annie' didn't chirp at all. Well, do we land and see what the joint is like?"

"Don't know about you, Chubby, but I sure want to. How about closer to the equator? Ought to be warmer there, and more comfortable. I want to study that plant life."

"OK by me--if you don't try to load the boat with your specimens." Jon laughed, and Jak joined in sheepishly.

"I promise not to go hog-wild like I did last time."

"Going to land, Mom. Strap down," Jon called into the intercom.

Jak reached for the sheet of landing instructions, but Jon shook his head. "Don't think we'll need those. Tighten your belt, here we go."

"Hey, what gives?" Jak's eyes widened as he saw his brother throw in one switch and then take his hands off the controls, although his eyes were alertly watching his many dials and lights, and his body was tensely ready for emergencies.

Jon did not answer, and Jak watched in the plate as the ground below appeared to rush closer each second. It almost seemed to him they were not slowing as fast as was usual on landings, but he was not unduly worried--he trusted Jon to know what he was doing ... even if he didn't!

But apparently Jon was not satisfied--for when the ship was only a few hundred yards above ground, he suddenly worked frantically at his controls, and the nose of the little yacht came up sharply and she zoomed into the upper air with a push from her stern tubes.

Thirty-some miles up, Jon set the ship into a circular orbit, then got out of his pilot's seat and began tinkering with some of the controls.

"What's wrong?" Jak asked. "How come you went down without following the manual, and then came up again?"

But Jon was tight-lipped and uncommunicative. Their mother's voice came over the intercom, asking why they had not landed, and Jon answered her question.

"Just a slight miscalculation of height, Mom, so I came up to try again," he answered. "Stay strapped down--I'll be going down again in a minute."

Soon he was back in his seat, scanning his various instruments, then again Jak saw him throw that one switch. Once more the little ship began settling toward the ground beneath, without any handling of the controls.

This time the landing was smooth, soft and even. Still without any move by Jon, Jak could feel the various generators and engines stop, the landing props go down, and finally the board show a clear green "neutral" condition.

"How ... how come?" Jak gasped, and this time Jon chose to answer.

"Just rigged up a series of photo-electric cells and relays, so now all I have to do is throw one switch and it takes care of all the little details of landing, just as this other one does of take-offs." Jon tried to make it sound like an offhand comment. "My height-to-descent-speed ratio was off a bit, and that was what I had to fix."

"But ... but that's something brand new, isn't it? I never heard of such a thing before." Jak still could hardly believe what he had just witnessed.

"Oh, it wasn't so much a much." Jon looked down as he guessed that his brother would soon realize what a remarkable thing he had done.

"Boy, you're good!" Jak applauded, and as their mother came into the control room, he almost shouted, "Jon's gone and...."

"Landed so we could go out a bit and make a fuller report in our log," Jon cut in sharply, with a warning look at his senior. "How's Pop?"

"Been moving about some, although he hasn't wakened fully yet today. His breathing is much easier. He still makes noises--but then, he always did sort of snore when he slept."

The boys went with her into the bunkroom to look at their father before they started outside. There was a flush of color on his skin, although it was paler than its usual state. When Jak examined the side of his patient's head he could see that it was practically healed. Also, the broken leg seemed in fine shape, as seen through the clear plastic of the cast.

"He'll be waking up for good any day now, I'm sure," he said thankfully.

"Gosh, I hope so," Jon said. "I feel like a fish out of water without my Pop."

"You seem to be doing fine, anyway," his mother cheered him. "And so is Jak," she hastened to add, fearful her elder son might think her prejudiced.

The boys went out to get ready for their outside trip.

"What's the big idea, not letting me tell Mother about your new dinkus for landings and take-offs?" Jak railed.

"Aw, she wouldn't understand it, and it'd worry her for fear it wouldn't work." Jon was clearly uncomfortable about the praise he could not help seeing in his brother's eyes. "I'll tell Pop, when he wakes up. Come on, I'll race you into our suits."

The boys donned their spacesuits, and examined each other to make sure they were "tight." They saw to it that their guns and bandoliers were fully loaded; that they had with them what tools and other equipment they felt might be needed. Then they opened the lockdoors and went outside.

They started off in a predetermined direction, having made plans to go about five miles. Then they would swing in a circle around the ship. If they saw anything they thought exceptionally interesting, they would make short side trips, and if necessary, complete their circle on another day. In any event, they had promised their mother to be back by dark.

The first leg of their journey was completed without any excitement, although Jak was continually finding new plants he wanted to collect for future study.

"Nix, Owl, not this trip," Jon kept protesting. "You promised, remember?"

"Oh, all right, killjoy. But there's so much here I want to find out about."

"Yes, so much you couldn't even make a dent in it in a lifetime. Want us to leave you behind to do it?"

"You just try that, and I'll knock your teeth loose."

"You and what platoon of space marines?" Jon jeered good-naturedly, knowing that with his greater size and strength Jak could not make good his threat--even if he had really wanted to.

Bickering in more or less friendly fashion, they covered their first five miles, then turned to the left and started circling. About a mile of this and they entered a fairly large wood. The trees here were so strange the boys looked about them with a growing excitement.

Unconsciously, they drew closer together, and finally Jon voiced what was in both their minds.

"I'm beginning to get scared, Jak. Ought we to keep trying to go this way?"

"I'm not sure," slowly. "I'm getting a feeling there's something here that seems to be unfriendly--perhaps dangerous. But there isn't a thing we can see--not even animal life."

"Maybe it's only because this forest is so unlike either those on Terra or the ones on Two." But Jon gripped his rifle more tightly, and his thumb unlocked the safety catch.

The two boys finally came to a dead halt in a small clearing perhaps a hundred feet in diameter, and examined more closely the few trees and bushes about them. The ground on which they were now standing was bare and sandy, although beneath the trees it had been more like black loam.

"This sand must be why there's practically no vegetation here," Jak said. He dug into the ground a bit, and found it to be sand as deep as he went.

Rising, he looked even more closely at the trees about the edge of the clearing.

Not one of them was the straight, slim type with which they were familiar. These were ungainly and appeared stunted, although many were actually close to thirty feet tall. Even so, they looked too large in diameter for their height. None of them had more than five or six twigless, leafless limbs, and those were almost as large in diameter as the trunks from which they grew. These branches twisted and curved, although in most cases the curve was upward, so that the leafless limbs often ended at a higher point than the main trunk of the tree.

Suddenly Jak began laughing--but with a high-pitched, mirthless laughter. As Jon looked at him in surprise, the elder tried to calm himself.

"I know what makes them look so scary," he finally said between gasps. "It's that weird look. But remember those pictures we've seen of the Zona and Newmex deserts in Noramer, back home? Remember the Josha trees growing there? They're as alien-looking as anything on Terra, and these look something like them."

Jon, too, began grinning as remembrance came. "'Most let ourselves get scared over nothing, didn't we? Come on, let's travel." And he started forward.

Yet the strangeness persisted, and before the boys had passed through the fringe of those tortured trees on the other side of that wood they started to get that queazy feeling again, in spite of their realization of what caused it. They began going more slowly, cautiously; ready for a quick turn and run, yet both inwardly hating themselves for the fear, and each determined not to let the other know he was afraid.

But it was with a distinct sense of relief that they saw the end of that forest ahead of them. Unconsciously they hurried their steps until they were almost trotting.

For the balance of their trip Jon was strangely acquiescent as Jak became more and more engrossed in the strange plant life of this world Three. He knew that this was Jak's dish, and he was perfectly willing to defer to the elder's knowledge and desire to learn. His main concern was to keep his brother from overloading himself with specimens, or from loitering too much.

Jak had been especially studying the soil here, Jon noticed, and finally he asked about it. "Notice one peculiar thing about this planet?"

"What's on your mind?"

"The total absence, as far as we've seen, of any sort or type of protoplasmic life," Jak reported.

"Hey, that's right, though I hadn't thought of it before. Our examination from the air, I remember now, showed no animals, birds or people. Plenty of vegetation, though."

"Yes, it has everything in that line. I wonder, though...." He paused, and he grew thoughtful.

"Wonder what?"

"How those plants can grow, without any worms or ants or anything to loosen and irrigate the soil, and no animals or birds to make fertilizers, or bees or butterflies or anything to carry pollen?"