Atom Drive

  Produced by Greg Weeks and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  Transcriber's note:

  This etext was produced from If Worlds of Science Fiction April 1956.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyrighton this publication was renewed.

  ATOM DRIVE

  BY CHARLES FONTENAY

  _It was a race between the tortoise and the hare. But this hare was using some dirty tricks to make sure the ending would be different...._

  _Illustrated by Ed Emsh_]

  The two spaceship crews were friendly enemies, sitting across the tablefrom each other for their last meal before blastoff. Outside the ports,the sky was nothing but light-streaked blackness, punctured periodicallyby Earth glare, for Space Station 2 whirled swiftly on its axis,creating an artificial gravity.

  "Jonner, I figured you the last man ever to desert the rockets for ahot-rod tow-job," chided Russo Baat, captain of the Mars Corporation'sgleaming new freighter, _Marsward XVIII_. Baat was fat and red-faced,and one of the shrewdest space captains in the business.

  Jonner Jons, at the other end of the table, inclined his grizzled headand smiled.

  "Times change, Russo," he answered quietly. "Even the Mars Corporationcan't stop that."

  "Is it true that you're pulling five thousand tons of cargo, Captain?"asked one of the crewmen of the _Marsward XVIII_.

  "Something like that," agreed Jonner, and his smile broadened. "And Ihave only about twice the fuel supply you carry for a 100-ton payload."

  The communicator above them squawked and blared:

  "Captain Jons and Captain Baat of Martian competition run, please reportto control for final briefing."

  "I knew it!" grumbled Baat, getting heavily and reluctantly to his feet."I haven't gotten to finish a meal on this blasted merry-go-round yet."

  In the space station's control section, Commander Ortega of the SpaceControl Commission, an ascetic officer in plain blues, looked them upand down severely.

  "As you know, gentlemen," he said, "blastoff time is 0600. Tonnage ofcargo, fuel and empty vessels cannot be a factor, under the law. TheMars Corporation will retain its exclusive franchise to the Earth-Marsrun, unless the ship sponsored by the Atom-Star Company returns to Earthwith full cargo at least twenty hours ahead of the ship sponsored by theMars Corporation. Cargo must be unloaded at Mars and new cargo taken on.I do not consider the twenty-hour bias in favor of the Mars Corporationa fair one," said Ortega severely, turning his gaze to Baat, "but theSpace Control Commission does not make the laws. It enforces them.Docking and loading facilities will be available to both of you on anequal basis at Phobos and Marsport. Good luck."

  He shook hands with both of them.

  "Saturn, I'm glad to get out of there!" exclaimed Baat, mopping his browas they left the control section. "Every time I take a step, I feel likeI'm falling on my face."

  "It's because the control section's so close to the center," repliedJonner. "The station's spinning to maintain artificial gravity, and yourfeet are away from the center. As long as you're standing upright, thepull is straight up and down to you, but actually your feet are movingfaster than your head, in a larger orbit. When you try to move, as innormal gravity, your body swings out of that line of pull and you nearlyfall. The best corrective, I've found, is to lean backward slightly whenyou start to walk."

  As the two space captains walked back toward the wardroom together, Baatsaid:

  "Jonner, I hear the Mars Corporation offered you the _Marsward XVIII_for this run first, and you turned them down. Why? You piloted the_Marsward V_ and the _Wayward Lady_ for Marscorp when those upstarts inthe Argentine were trying to crack the Earth-Mars run. This Atom-Starcouldn't have enough money to buy you away from Marscorp."

  "No, Marscorp offered me more," said Jonner, soberly now. "But thisatomic drive is the future of space travel, Russo. Marscorp has it, butthey're sitting on it because they've got their fingers in hydrazineinterests here, and the atom drive will make hydrazine useless for spacefuel. Unless I can break the franchise for Atom-Star, it may be ahundred years before we switch to the atom drive in space."

  "What the hell difference does that make to you?" asked Baat bluntly.

  "Hydrazine's expensive," replied Jonner. "Reaction mass isn't, and youuse less of it. I was born on Mars, Russo. Mars is my home, and I wantto see my people get the supplies they need from Earth at a reasonabletransport cost, not pay through the nose for every packet of vegetableseed."

  They reached the wardroom door.

  "Too bad I have to degrav my old chief," said Baat, chuckling. "But I'ma rocket man, myself, and I say to hell with your hot-rod atom drive.I'm sorry you got deflected into this run, Jonner; you'll never breakMarscorp's orbit."

  * * * * *

  The _Marsward XVIII_ was a huge vessel, the biggest the Mars Corporationever had put into space. It was a collection of spheres and cylinders,joined together by a network of steel ties. Nearly 90% of its weight wasfuel, for the one-way trip to Mars.

  Its competitor, the _Radiant Hope_, riding ten miles away in orbitaround the Earth, was the strangest looking vessel ever to get clearancefrom a space station. It looked like a tug towing a barge. The tug wasthe atomic power plant. Two miles behind, attached by a thin cable, wasthe passenger compartment and cargo.

  On the control deck of the _Radiant Hope_, Jonner gripped a microphoneand shouted profane instructions at the pilot of a squat ground-to-spacerocket twenty miles away. T'an Li Cho, the ship's engineer, was peeringout the port at the speck of light toward which Jonner was directing hiswrath, while Qoqol, the Martian astrogator, worked at his charts on theother side of the deck.

  "I thought all cargo was aboard, Jonner," said T'an.

  "It is," said Jonner, laying the mike aside. "That G-boat isn't haulingcargo. It's going with us. I'm not taking any chances on Marscorprefusing to ferry our cargo back and forth at Mars."

  "Is plotted, Jonner," boomed Qoqol, turning his head to peer at themwith huge eyes through the spidery tangle of his thin, double-jointedarms and legs. He reached an eight-foot arm across the deck and handedJonner his figures. Jonner gave them to T'an.

  "Figure out power for that one, T'an," ordered Jonner, and took his seatin the cushioned control chair.

  T'an pulled a slide rule from his tunic pocket, but his black almondeyes rested quizzically on Jonner.

  "It's four hours before blastoff," he reminded.

  "I've cleared power for this with Space Control," replied Jonner. "Thatplanet-loving G-boat jockey missed orbit. We'll have to swing out alittle and go to him."

  On a conventional space craft, the order for acceleration would havesent the engineer to the engine deck to watch his gauges and report byintercom. But the _Radiant Hope_'s "engine deck" was the atomic tug twomiles ahead, which T'an, in heavy armor, would enter only inemergencies. He calculated for a moment, then called softly to Jonner:

  "Pile One, in ten."

  "In ten," confirmed Jonner, pulling a lever on the calibrated gauge ofthe radio control.

  "Pile Two, in fifteen."

  "In fifteen."

  "Check. I'll have the length of burst figured for you in a jiffy."

  A faint glow appeared around the atomic tug far ahead, and there was thefaintest shiver in the ship. But after a moment, Qoqol said in a puzzledtone:

  "No Gs, Jonner. Engine not work?"

  "Sure, she's working," said Jonner with a grin. "You'll never get anymore G than we've got now, Qoqol, all the way to Mars. Our maximumacceleration will be 1/3,000th-G."

  "One three-thousandth?" exclaimed T'an, shaken out of his Oriental calm."Jonner, the _Marsward_ will blast away at one or two Gs. How do youexpect to beat that at 1/3,000th?"


  "Because they have to cut off and coast most of the way in an ellipticorbit, like any other rocket," answered Jonner calmly. "We drivestraight across the system, under power all the time. We accelerate halfway, decelerate the other half."

  "But 1/3,000th!"

  "You'll be surprised at what constant power can do. I know Baat, and Iknow the trick he's going to use. It's obvious from the blastoff timethey arranged. He's going to tack off the Moon and use his power rightto cut 20 days off that regular 237-day schedule. But this tug-boat willmake it in 154 days!"

  They