The Planet Mappers by E. Everett Evans (short books for teens .TXT) 📖

voice sounded, and went across to his side.

"We sure did." Jon smiled broadly. "We were out just a little over five days, and the receptors don't show a thing behind. I woke up just a few minutes ahead of you, and that's one of the first things I looked at. Then I found I was weak and dry, so I went out and made this broth." He passed the cups and, as the others drank gratefully, Jon spoke again.

"I've got to hand it to you, Owl. You sure fixed us fine this time."

"He certainly did." Mr. Carver spoke as forcefully as he could, having already privately warned Jak to say nothing of his weakened condition. He looked solicitously over at his wife. "You all right, Marci?"

"Yes, I feel fine, now that I've had this good consomme Jon was so thoughtful as to make." She smiled with real relief that they had all come through this dangerous experiment so successfully.

Mr. Carver turned to Jon. "It feels like we're only at one gravity."

"Yes, I rigged the automatics so they'd take care of that at the end of one hundred and twenty-five hours," the boy explained. "Probably it was the relief from pressure that woke us, as well as the wearing off of the stuff Jak gave us." Then he looked at his brother. "How come we're not famished after five days? That little glucose and stuff you gave us wouldn't last that long, would it?"

"No, but the drug not only made us unconscious, but slowed down our metabolism so that we burned up hardly any energy."

There was silence then while the four sipped their broth. Finally Mr. Carver looked up at Jak. "How soon can we go through this again?"

"The book says the doctor gave as high as four doses to people, one right after the other as they woke up, with only a few hours' rest between them."

"Hmmm, then we'd better take some time out. We'll all want baths, plenty of your mother's good cooking, and Jon and I will have to do some computing."

"If Bogin holds his acceleration, plus and minus, we can take most of the day, and still beat him in." Jon had been doing some rapid preliminary figuring. "But it'll take a couple of hours—maybe more—to compute the last hop. It's tricky. Especially, I'll have to look in the ephemeris to find the position of Luna when we get near her orbit."

"Right, we don't want to hit her. Well, we can keep at one gravity for at least twelve hours, then," his father said, and Mrs. Carver breathed a sigh of relief. She was still a bit worried about their undergoing such untried experiments, even though she trusted the abilities of her menfolks, and knew they had all come safely through the first time.

"I'll make notes of all this, and ask each of you for your full reactions," Jak said animatedly. "Then when we get home I'll write up a complete report and send it to Dr. Svendholm. I'm sure he'll be tickled pink to get this added confirmation of his studies and experiments."

"That's thoughtful of you, Son." His father smiled. "You're developing into a true research scientist."

"He sure is!" His younger brother paid deserved tribute. Jak reddened a bit and hastily left the control room to help his mother with her work.

They all took warm baths and changed their clothing. As Jak was helping his father, he asked anxiously, "Now that we're alone, Father, did you really come through all right? You look a bit more tired and worn than before we started this."

"Sure, I'm OK," Mr. Carver said quickly, but he could not meet his son's eyes.

"You're not, sir, and you know it and I know it," Jak smiled a bit strainedly. "I don't like it, but I know how you feel about this, so I'll keep quiet. How's your leg?"

"Thanks, Son. Our getting back first is very important to me, and I can rest and get well after we reach Earth and get the Board's confirmation on our claim. And don't forget that we might not get back at all if Bogin catches up with us. He's ruthless about anyone who gets in his way.... As for the leg, it aches some, but not like it did before. I really think it's healing in fine shape."

"Let's have a look." Jak threw back the covers, and peered closely at the leg, lifting it so he could better see all around it.

"Yes," he said finally, as he tucked in the blankets again. "It's almost healed, and there isn't a sign of inflammation. Not even a bump where the break was. I ... I sure hope I set it right, so that it won't bother you later on."

His father patted his hand. "You did a grand job, I know, Son, and I'm very grateful to you—as well as proud of having such a fine boy."

"Two fine boys, then, for Jon is certainly every bit as deserving of your praise as I am, sir."

"That I'll certainly buy!" Mr. Carver's eyes shone.

They all sat about during the day, eating as much as they could hold of Mrs. Carver's fine cooking, and relaxing gratefully in the comfortable one-gravity Earth-weight.

Jon and his father worked tirelessly until they had computed precisely where they were and how soon and how much more deceleration they would have to use to finish their trip. Then they, too, relaxed for the balance of the day.

Late that afternoon Jon suddenly swiveled his chair about to face his father's recline seat.

"I think I've figured out something on that new fuel and how to use it, Pop. Ships'll have to be changed, though. The bins will have to be heavily lead-lined, of course, and so would the injector tubes have to be shielded. The nozzles would have to be made smaller, so the pellets will fit better. I figure the people who used to handle the stuff made the nuggets that exact size on purpose—that we'd not want to try making them the same size as our copper ones."

"That sounds reasonable. What about shielding for the generators?"

"There'd have to be a lot more of that, too. Probably thick shields of neocarbolloy and paraffin. But can't they surround the generators, bins and everything with force fields, as an added precaution?"

"Mmmm, maybe they could at that. We'd better put it up to the scientists and technies back on Terra. Neither of us knows enough to handle it ourselves, when it comes down to the actual work."

The boy's face fell, then he forced a smile. "I hate to give in to anyone else on this, but you're right as rain, Pop. It is too big a fish for us to handle alone. But I'm sure going to learn before I finish, and some day when I run up against anything like this again, you can bet I'll know what to do."

"What's the use of going to all that trouble when you only have that small amount of fuel you found?" their mother asked curiously.

"Ouch! You would have to think of that," Jon grumbled, but Mr. Carver smiled up at his wife.

"There's plenty on Planet Five, remember? And probably in other places about the universe. You can bet that prospectors will be hunting—and finding it—once we announce our discovery ... IF we and the scientists can figure out what it was before it started losing its half life, and IF we can learn how to use it," he said firmly. "Once metallurgists have had the chance to analyze it, they won't take long to figure out exactly what it is, and where it can probably be found—the type of sun and planet that would have it, I mean," he added.

"And under the Prime Discoverer's code, we'll get a percentage of the process, won't we, Pop?"

"I think so. That'll be up to the Board, but they're usually pretty square about such things."

When it was time, Jak again gave the family the dosages of nutrients, and then the shots. Jon had filled four thermos bottles with strength-regaining soup his mother had made, and these were placed at each pressure-pack, ready for their awakening. Again the four lapsed into the complete unconsciousness of suspended animation—knowing neither discomfort nor the long passage of time—while their little ship bored through the immensities of space at a constant negative acceleration of five gravities.

As before, when they awakened they felt as though they had just gone to sleep. As soon as they had taken their initial feedings of the thermos-hot broth, Jon and his father set to work taking observations and making long and intricate calculations of their present speed and placement. Where were they? How much of their utterly incomprehensible top speed did they have left?

"Practically perfect!" Jon exclaimed happily after nearly an hour of careful computations, as he read the last tapes from the calculator. "It works out at one point eight four G's to atmosphere."

"O positively K," Mr. Carver agreed. "A master computer couldn't have done any better. And Jak has certainly proved himself to be a grand doctor."

"It's not my credit. Dr. Svendholm's the one who...."

"But it was you who made up the fluid and induced us to take it." His mother came over and ran her hand gently through his hair. "I'm proud of you all."

Jon had been tuning his receptors carefully, but was unable to get any trace of Bogin's ship, and all were happy at his report.

Warm baths and changes of clothing, and the fine meals prepared by Mrs. Carver, plus the fact they were rapidly nearing Sol, which could be seen on their telescopic plates, made them all very gay and full of chatter.

"I've decided I want to go back to the hospital-school and really prepare myself to be a doctor," Jak said in no uncertain terms. "Later I want to go into medical research."

"And I still want to enroll at the Centropolitan Institute of Atomics." Jon's eyes were shining.

"Aren't you boys forgetting one little detail?" their father asked drily. While the long sleeps had relaxed his body, and had practically completed the healing of his broken leg, the pressure had not been good for him, and his condition as a whole was worse. But his spirits were high, and he was careful not to let any of his family know just how weak he felt.

At his question they all looked up, astonished, and he continued, "There's the small matter of getting the Colonial Board's approval of our claim against the counter-claim we feel so sure Bogin is coming in to make."

"Pooh, he hasn't got a chance," Jon said airily.

"You hope," Jak scoffed, suddenly serious and worried.

"How about it, Mr. C.?" Mrs. Carver asked.

"Our pictures and data are so detailed I don't see how Bogin can possibly match them," her husband answered slowly and thoughtfully. "I think we can prove our claim. Besides, their receivers there on Terra should have picked up the broadcasts of our signals, and then the change—and that should have made them wonder why, so our explanation ought to satisfy them."

"That reminds me." Jon swung back to his panel. "Let's see if we can pick up our signals from here ... or Bogin's, rather!" His lips tightened.

In a few moments his tubes had warmed up, but nothing came in over his ultra-range receivers. He stepped up the power, and swung his directional loops forth and back, although mostly he aimed them directly toward the Carveria system's known coordinates. For long, anxious minutes he worked, but still no sounds, save the noise of cosmic rays and the other forces of the void that made long-distance communication such a problem.

With a weary gesture Jon finally turned off the set, and swung about with a stricken face. "What do you suppose is wrong, Pop?"

The elder shook his head slowly. "Only thing I can think of is that we're so far away the senders can't reach this far."

"Won't that be in our favor?" Jak asked. "If they can't hear any signals at all, our records ought to be enough."

"Maybe yes, maybe no," Mr. Carver answered with a tired smile.

"And after all our hard work, too." Jon's tone was dispirited.

"And the dangers you were up against." Mrs. Carver's eyes were tear-dimmed.

Their father caught himself and looked at each with a disarming grin. "Hey, we're all crossing bridges where maybe there isn't even a creek to be spanned." He made his voice mockingly cheerful. "What's happened to the good old Carver spirit?"

"You're right, Pop." Jon shook away his dismay and began to smile. "We're not licked yet."

But while they were eating, a short time later, Jon turned his seat to face his father.

"Don't like to start worrying again, Pop," he said in a low voice, "but our receptor is picking up atomic activity behind us again. Of course," he added quickly, "this