Atom Drive Page 4

prove their contention, thiscourt of complaint has no alternative than to dismiss the case."

  The examiner arose and left the hearing room. Baat waddled across theaisle, puffing.

  "Too bad, Jonner," he said. "I don't like the stuff Marscorp's pulling,and I think you know I don't have anything to do with it.

  "I want to win, but I want to win fair and square. If there's anything Ican do to help...."

  "Haven't got a spare G-boat in your pocket, have you?" retorted Jonner,with a rueful smile.

  Baat pulled at his jowls.

  "The _Marsward_ isn't carrying G-boats," he said regretfully. "They allbelong to the port, and Marscorp's got them so tied up you'll never geta sniff of one. But if you want to get back to your ship, Jonner, I cantake you up to Phobos with me, as my guest."

  Jonner shook his head.

  "I figure on taking the _Radiant Hope_ back to Earth," he said. "But I'mnot blasting off without cargo until it's too late for me to beat you onthe run."

  "You sure? This'll be my last ferry trip. The _Marsward_ blasts off forEarth at 0300 tomorrow."

  "No, thanks, Russo. But I will appreciate your taking my ship's doctor,Dr. Elden, up to Phobos."

  "Done!" agreed Baat. "Let's go, Dr. Elden. The G-boat leaves Marsport intwo hours."

  Jonner watched Baat puff away, with the slender, white-clad brunette athis side. Baat personally would see Lana Elden safely aboard the_Radiant Hope_, even if it delayed his own blastoff.

  Morosely, he left the hearing room with Deveet.

  "What I can't understand," said the latter, "is why all this dirty work,why didn't Marscorp just use one of their atom-drive ships for thecompetition run?"

  "Because whatever ship is used on a competition run has to be kept inservice on the franchised run," answered Jonner. "Marscorp has millionstied up in hydrazine interests, and they're more interested in keepingan atomic ship off this run than they are in a monopoly franchise. Butthey tie in together: if Marscorp loses the monopoly franchise andAtom-Star puts in atom-drive ships, Marscorp will have to switch toatom-drive to meet the competition."

  "If we had a franchise, we could force Space Fuels to sell ushydrazine," said Deveet unhappily.

  "Well, we don't. And, at this rate, we'll never get one."

  * * * * *

  Jonner and Deveet were fishing at the Mars City Recreation Center. Ithad been several weeks since the _Marsward XVIII_ blasted off to Earthwith a full cargo. And still the atomic ship _Radiant Hope_ rested onPhobos with most of her Marsbound cargo still aboard; and still her crewlanguished at the Phobos space station; and still Jonner moved back andforth between Mars City and Marsport daily, racking his brain for asolution that would not come.

  "How in space do you get twenty tons of cargo up to an orbit 5,800 milesout, without any rocket fuel?" he demanded of Deveet more than once. Hereceived no satisfactory answer.

  The Recreation Center was a two-acre park that lay beneath the plasticdome of Mars City. Above them they could see swift-moving Phobos anddistant Deimos among the other stars that powdered the night. In thepark around them, colonists rode the amusement machines, canoed alongthe canal that twisted through the park or sipped refreshment atscattered tables. A dozen or more sat, like Jonner and Deveet, aroundthe edge of the tiny lake, fishing.

  Deveet's line tightened. He pulled in a streamlined, flapping objectfrom which the light glistened wetly.

  "Good catch," complimented Jonner. "That's worth a full credit."

  Deveet unhooked his catch and laid it on the bank beside him. It was ametal fish: live fish were unknown on Mars. They paid for the privilegeof fishing for a certain time and any fish caught were "sold" back tothe management at a fixed price, depending on size, to be put back intothe lake.

  "You're pretty good at it," said Jonner. "That's your third tonight."

  "It's all in the speed at which you reel in your line," explainedDeveet. "The fish move at pre-set speeds. They're made to turn and catcha hook that moves across their path at a slightly slower speed thanthey're swimming. The management changes the speeds once a week to keepthe fishermen from getting too expert."

  "You can't beat the management," chuckled Jonner. "But if it's a matterof matching orbital speeds to make contact, I ought to do pretty wellwhen I get the hang of it."

  He cocked an eye up toward the transparent dome. Phobos had moved acrossthe sky into Capricorn since he last saw her. His memory automaticallyticked off the satellite's orbital speed: 1.32 miles a second; speed inrelation to planetary motion....

  Why go over that again? One had to have fuel first. Meanwhile, the_Radiant Hope_ lay idle on Phobos and its crew whiled away the hours atthe space station inside the moon, their feet spinning faster than theirheads ... no, that wasn't true on Phobos, because it didn't have a spinto impart artificial gravity, like the space stations around Earth.

  He sat up suddenly. Deveet looked at him in surprise. Jonner's lipsmoved silently for a moment, then he got to his feet.

  "Where can we use a radiophone?" he asked.

  "One in my office," said Deveet, standing up.

  "Let's go. Quick, before Phobos sets."

  They turned in their rods, Deveet collecting the credits for his fish,and left the Recreation Center.

  When they reached the Atom-Star Company's Martian office Jonner pluggedin the radiophone and called the Phobos space station. He got T'an.

  "All of you get aboard," Jonner ordered. "Then have Qoqol call me."

  He signed off and turned to Deveet. "Can we charter a plane to haul ourEarthbound cargo out of Marsport?"

  "A plane? I suppose so. Where do you want to haul it?"

  "Charax is as good as any other place. But I need a fast plane."

  "I think we can get it. Marscorp still controls all the airlines, butthe Mars government keeps a pretty strict finger on their planetboundoperations. They can't refuse a cargo haul without good reason."

  "Just to play safe, have some friend of yours whom they don't know,charter the plane in his name. They won't know it's us till we startloading cargo."

  "Right," said Deveet, picking up the telephone. "I know just the man."

  * * * * *

  Towmotors scuttled across the landing area at Marsport, shifting thecargo that had been destined for the _Radiant Hope_ from the helplessG-boat to a jet cargo-plane. Nearby, watching the operation, were Jonnerand Deveet, with the Marsport agent of Mars Air Transport Company.

  "We didn't know Atom-Star was the one chartering the plane until youordered the G-boat cargo loaded on it," confessed the Mars-Air agent.

  "I see you and Mr. Deveet are signed up to accompany the cargo. You'llhave to rent suits for the trip. We have to play it safe, and there'salways the possibility of a forced landing."

  "There are a couple of spacesuits aboard the G-boat that we want to takealong," said Jonner casually. "We'll just wear those instead."

  "Okay." The agent spread his hands and shrugged. "Everybody at Marsportknows about you bucking Marscorp, Captain. What you expect to gain bytransferring your cargo to Charax is beyond me, but it's your business."

  An hour later, the chartered airplane took off with a thunder of jets.Aboard was the 20-ton cargo the _Radiant Hope_ was supposed to carry toEarth, plus some large parachutes. The Mars-Air pilot wore a light suitwith plastic helmet designed for survival in the thin, cold Martian air.Jonner and Deveet wore the bulkier spacesuits.

  Five minutes out of Marsport, Jonner thrust the muzzle of a heat-gun inthe pilot's back.

  "Set it on automatic, strap on your parachute and bail out," he ordered."We're taking over."

  The pilot had no choice. He went through the plane's airlock and jumped,helped by a hearty boost from Jonner. His parachute blossomed out as hedrifted down toward the green Syrtis Major Lowland. Jonner didn't worryabout him. He knew the pilot's helmet radio would reach Marsport and ahelicopter would rescue him shortly.

  "I don't know what y
ou're trying to do, Jonner," said Deveetapprehensively over his spacehelmet radio. "But whatever it is, you'dbetter do it fast. They'll have every plane on Mars looking for us inhalf an hour."

  "Let 'em look, and keep quiet a while," retorted Jonner. "I've got somefiguring to do."

  He put the plane on automatic, took off the spacesuit handhooks andscribbled figures on a scrap of paper. He tuned in the plane's radio andcalled Qoqol on Phobos. They talked to each other briefly in Martian.

  The darker green line of a canal crossed the green lowland below them.

  "Good, there's Drosinas," muttered Jonner. "Let's see, time 1424 hours,speed 660 miles an hour...."

  Jonner boosted the jets a bit and watched the terrain.

  "By Saturn, I almost overran it!" he exclaimed. "Deveet, smash out thoseports."

  "Break out the ports?" repeated Deveet. "That'll depressurize thecabin!"

  "That's right. So you'd better be sure your spacesuit's secure."

  Obviously puzzled, Deveet strode up and down the cabin, knocking out itssix windows with the handhooks of his spacesuit. Jonner maneuvered theplane gently, and set it on automatic. He got out of the pilot's seatand strode to the right front port.

  Reaching through the broken window, he pulled in a section of cable thatwas trailing alongside. While the baffled Deveet watched, he reeled itin until he brought up the end of it, to which was attached afish-shaped finned metal missile.

  Jonner carried the cable end and the attached missile across the cabinand tossed it out the broken front port on the other side, swinging itso that the 700-mile-an-hour slipstream snapped it back in through therearmost port like a bullet.

  "Pick it up and pass it out the right rear port," he commanded. "We'llhave to pass it to each other from port to port. The slipstream won'tlet us swing it forward and through."

  In a few moments, the two of them had worked the missile and the cableend to the right front port and in through it. Originating above theplane, it now made a loop through the four open ports. Jonner untied themissile and tied the end to the portion which came into the cabin,making a bowline knot of the loop. Deveet picked up the missile from thefloor, where Jonner had thrown it.

  "Looks like a spent rocket shell," he commented.

  "It's a signal rocket," said Jonner. "The flare trigger wasdisconnected."

  He picked up the microphone and called the _Radiant Hope_ on Phobos.

  "We've hooked our fish, Qoqol," he told the Martian, and laid the mikeaside.

  "What does that mean?" asked Deveet.

  "Means we'd better strap in," said Jonner, suiting the action to thewords. "You're in for a short trip to Phobos, Deveet."

  Jonner pulled back slowly on the elevator control, and the plane began ashallow climb. At 700 miles an hour, it began to attain a height atwhich its broad wings--broader than those of any terrestrialplane--would not support it.

  "I'm trying to decide," said Deveet with forced calm, "whether you'veflipped your helmet."

  "Nope," answered Jonner. "Trolling for those fish in Mars City gave methe idea. The rest was no more than an astrogation problem, like anyrendezvous with a ship in a fixed orbit, which Qoqol could figure.Remember that 6,000-mile television cable the ship's hauling? Qoqol justshot the end of it down to Mars' surface by signal rocket, we hooked onand now he'll haul us up to Phobos. He's got the ship's engine hookedonto the cable winch."

  The jets coughed and stopped. The plane was out of fuel. It was onmomentum--to be drawn by the cable, or to snap it and fall.

  "Impossible!" cried Deveet in alarm. "Phobos' orbital speed is more thana mile a second! No cable can take the sudden difference in that and thespeed we're traveling. When the slack is gone, it'll break!"

  "The slack's gone already. You're thinking of the speed of Phobos, _atPhobos_. At this end of the cable, we're like the head of a man in thecontrol section of a space station, which is traveling slower than hisfeet because its orbit is smaller--but it revolves around the center inthe same time.

  "Look," Jonner added, "I'll put it in round numbers. Figure your cableas part of a radius of Phobos' orbit. Phobos travels at 1.32, but theother end of the radius travels at zero because it's at the center. Thecable end, at the Martian surface, travels at a speed inbetween--roughly 1,200 miles an hour--but it keeps up with Phobos'revolution. Since the surface of Mars itself rotates at 500 miles anhour, all I had to do was boost the plane up to 700 to match the speedof the cable end.

  "That cable will haul a hell of a lot more than twenty tons, and that'sall that's on it right now. By winching us up slowly, there'll never betoo great a strain on it."

  Deveet looked apprehensively out of the port. The plane was hangingsidewise now, and the distant Martian surface was straight out theleft-hand ports. The cable was holding.

  "We can make the trip to Earth 83 days faster than the _Marsward_," saidJonner, "and they have only about 20 days' start. It won't take us but afew days to make Phobos and get this cable and the rest of the cargoshot back to Mars. Atom-Star will get its franchise, and you'll see allspaceships switching to the atomic drive within the next decade."

  "How about this plane?" asked Deveet. "We stole it, you know."

  "You can hire a G-boat to take it back to Marsport," said Jonner with achuckle. "Pay Mars-Air for the time and the broken ports, and settle outof court with that pilot we dropped. I don't think they'll send you tojail, Deveet."

  He was silent for a few minutes.

  "By the way, Deveet," said Jonner then, "radio Atom-Star to buy someflonite cable of their own and ship it to Phobos. Damned if I don'tthink this is cheaper than G-boats!"