The Planet Mappers, E. Everett Evans [cheapest way to read ebooks .TXT] 📗

close to Terra it could be some other ship, not Bogin's."

"Could be, and probably is." His father stroked his chin reflectively.

"I don't see how he could've caught up with us, but we don't know what his ship can do."

"The guy's tricky and dirty, but he does have a brain and he has some darned good technies in his crew. He'd know, from his own receptors, when we started speeding up so fast, and he'd do something to counteract that, if he could."

"I've heard things like that about him, but I don't know him."

"I do," grimly. "We've had brushes before, when I was in other ships. He's a skunk and ought to be behind bars—but so far no one has been able to produce any real evidence of what all spacemen know must be true."

"If the Board accepts our claim and data against his, won't that be proof against him?"

"It should be. You can bet your tackle I'll work on that angle. Space will be cleaner if that hellhound isn't in it."

"You bet, Pop. I hope you sink your hook in him this time."

His father laughed grimly. "It won't be for lack of trying, that's for danged sure."

15

Jon Carver spoke into the microphone of his ship radio. "Exploration ship Star Rover, Tad Carver owner, Jon Carver pilot, asking permission to land. We are circling at ten miles up."

A moment's crackling noise from the speaker, then a cheery, feminine voice, "Centropolitan spaceport. Landing permission granted. What size is your ship?"

"A seventy-two foot space-yacht."

"Do you need servicing?"

"We will in a day or so, but not at the moment."

"Use cradle forty-three in section D. Land in four minutes."

"Instructions received with thanks. Star Rover off."

Carefully Jon sighted through his visiplate until he located the cradle marked with a large "43" in the section of the tremendous spaceport also clearly marked "D." He lowered the ship slowly and gently, keeping his eyes closely on the chronom and its big sweep-secondhand.

So expert had he become at handling the ship, and so well did his new automatic technique work, that the ship settled gently into the cradle dead center ... and only one point three zero seconds off the four minutes specified.

"Nice handling, Chubby," Jak cheered as they felt the mighty engines and generators shut off.

"Aw, it was rotten. I was almost a second and a half off in my timing."

"Who cares?" There was a lilt of joy and pure thankfulness in their mother's voice. "We are back on Earth—home—and all of us are whole. That's the best part of all."

Her husband looked up from the recline seat where he was still lying, and winked at his sons. Then he faced his wife. "The eternal mother." He smiled gently at her, and his voice was soft with emotion. "Happiest when her brood is safe. And," he added hastily at the look coming into her eyes, "how thankful mankind is, or should be, that womenfolk have always had that feeling. Man would never have gone as far as he has if she hadn't."

Jak soon came in from the other part of the ship. "All our data books, pictures and specimens are packed and stashed by the inner lockdoor," he reported.

Jon jumped from his pilot's seat and started toward the living quarters. "Let's get our street clothes on, and get going to the Colonial Board headquarters."

"Yes," Mrs. Carver said eagerly. "After all we've gone through to make sure we beat that Bogin and his ship back home, let's not waste any time."

"Well," Mr. Carver's eyes twinkled, "go put on your prettiest frock and all your war paint, so you can make a good impression on the Board members."

She krinkled her nose at him, but went in to the bunkroom. Mr. Carver raised his chair to upright, and began struggling to get up. The two boys, watching closely, saw how weak he was, and ran to help him. With his arms across their shoulders, he finally managed to half-walk, half be carried, into the other room. The boys lowered him into a seat.

"I'll get your clean clothes, and your razor and some hot water," Jak said.

Jon went back into the control room, and turned on his radio-sender. "Service, please," he said when the operator came on, and in a moment, "Star Rover, cradle 43, section D. Please have a taxi-hopper here in thirty minutes, and a wheel chair with it. Thanks."

When the four got outside on the landing platform and Tad Carver saw the wheel chair he was indignant. "I'm not going to ride in any lousy perambulator," he grumbled, but the boys were insistent.

Finally his wife came over and put her hand on his arm. "You might as well give in, Mr. C. Besides, your leg is not strong enough to do without one—yet."

Still grumbling, he let the boys help him into the wheel chair ... but they noticed his sigh of relief when he was settled and the weight was taken off his feet. His body trembled with weakness, in spite of his efforts to control himself.

The chair, their books and cases were soon loaded into the copter, then Jon directed, "Colonial Board building, please."

The little ship rose swiftly on her whirling vanes, then streaked through the clear air toward the center of the great city of Centropolis, while the four watched the familiar sights of "home" with eager, happy eyes.

"Look at the trees and flowers," Jak called excitedly, pointing at the riot of color below. "They're getting green and in full bloom. It's late spring here, yet it was fall back on Three."

"Different suns, different seasons on the various planets." There was amusement in his father's voice.

"Sure, you ought to know that," Jon said condescendingly.

"I do know it, you fathead. I was just...."

"Now, Boys," their mother interposed—and the two grinned covertly at each other. Poor mother never seemed to realize there was no real animosity behind their bickerings.

It took only a few minutes for the swift taxi-hopper to ferry them from the spaceport to the roof of the huge Colonial building. Tad Carver paid the fare, the boys again filled their arms with their books and cases, and Mrs. Carver pushed the wheel chair to the elevator. They descended to the Board headquarters' floor.

In the anteroom their father propelled his chair to the receptionist's desk.

"I'm Tad Carver, owner of the Star Rover, just back from a trip. We wish to present a claim as Prime Discoverers of a new planetary system."

"Oh, splendid!" The stately brunette's eyes lighted. "Is it a good one?" she asked as she reached into one of the drawers of her desk for a sheet of forms.

Mr. Carver smiled. "Five planets and seven moons. Two of the planets are very Earthlike, and there are lots of metal, wood and many other worth-while things."

A distant look came into the girl's eyes. "I've never been out in space. It must be wonderful...." She straightened with determination. "Please answer these preliminary questions. Then I'll get your appointment with the Board." Rapidly she put the questions as listed on her forms, and filled in the vacant places as he answered her.

Finished, she rose, said, "Just a moment, please," and went in through a side door with the papers in her hand.

Mr. Carver wheeled himself back to his family, who were sitting stiffly in chairs against the further wall. "Are they going to allow our claim?" Jon asked nervously. The others leaned forward to hear the answer.

"Take it easy." Mr. Carver's eyes showed amusement. "The girl has merely gone in to make an appointment for us. This takes time, you know. We probably won't have the answer for several days."

"Oh!" It was a trio of disappointment, and they sat back to wait, glumly, impatiently.

But only a few minutes later they straightened expectantly as they saw the receptionist coming back. She crossed over to them.

"The Board is at liberty to hear your preliminary claim now," she told them. "Please follow me."

She led them through the same side door and into a large room beyond. The four looked eagerly about them, seeing a well-lighted, wood-paneled office. Across the room was a large, heavy table-desk, behind which were seated five men.

"Mr. and Mrs. Tad Carver, and their two sons," the girl introduced them before leaving.

"Please take those chairs." From his seat at the center of the table the chairman indicated comfortable chairs on the side of the table opposite him. Jon pushed one aside while Jak propelled the wheel chair into the vacant space. Then the other three Carvers seated themselves in adjoining seats.

"I am Robert Wilson, Chairman of the Board. The other members are Phil Silverman, James Dougherty, Will Irwin, and Sam Reardon." He indicated in turn the other men at the table. "I see you claim to be the Prime Discoverers of a new Solar System. That's wonderful! We're expanding so rapidly, what with the increasing birth rate on Terra and the other colonized planets, that we already and always need more room. Tell us more about your find."

"It's a five-planet system with a sun much like Sol, only about a quarter larger. The coordinates are Right Ascension 17.45, Declination Minus 11.4, distance about sixty-two light years."

Swiftly Mr. Carver gave the pertinent facts about the habitability of planets Two and Three, and presented their books of data, and their cases of photographs.

"How come we haven't received your signals—or didn't you place any?" Irwin asked.

"We did place them, sir, but we noticed several days ago, coming in, that we could not hear them with our own receivers. It is my opinion that the distance is too great for the strength of the senders."

"That's possible," Silverman spoke up. "Your claim is farther away than any yet presented to us. I happen to know that the signal-senders furnished by our Board technicians ordinarily have a theoretical range of not quite fifty light-years."

Mr. Carver half-rose, then settled back and spoke with a level voice, while his eyes swept from one to the other of the five men.

"I want to report honestly on this case, sirs. Just before we left, we started back along a course that would take us fairly close to all our planets and the sun, to make sure our senders were functioning correctly. We started from Two, where we had just completed marking-out our city site, went past One and around the sun, planning to make a big swing to the other planets and so back home. The senders of One, Two and the sun were working all right, but as we neared Three we heard, instead of our own, signals stating that the system had been charted and claimed by Michael Bogin and his...."

"Slik Bogin!" Several of the Board members exclaimed in concert, and Chairman Wilson added, grimly, "So he's at work again."

Mr. Carver waited until they were silent, then continued, "We think he either destroyed our senders or substituted his own tapes in ours. However, we put our sun-signal into an orbit so close to the sun's surface we doubt if he'll be able to do anything about it. It's only about ten million miles...."

"Ten million!" Reardon almost yelled the question, and the others sat upright in excited astonishment, doubt showing in their faces. "How could you do that?"

"I figured a van Sicklenberg, sir, to give our sender a circular orbit apexing at ten million miles," Jon Carver explained simply. "We used the servo-mechs in our lock to throw the sender out when at minimum distance."

"You?" There was a concerted expression of disbelief and Mr. Reardon said, witheringly, "Why, you're not a listed astrogator. How could you compute a ... a what was it you called it?"

"A van Sicklenberg throw-out orbit, sir. I...."

"Never heard of a van Sicklenberg. What is it ... what sort of nonsense are you talking?"

Jon opened his mouth to reply, but his mother forestalled him. She rose determinedly. "My Jon is 'only a boy,' gentlemen, but he has also become an expert pilot and an excellent astrogator, if I do say so myself. He is also an inventor, and will shortly apply for patents on a new automatic piloting system—which I don't pretend to understand anything about, but which I do know from watching its use is far in advance of anything you now have. You can be sure he knows how to do such a simple thing as plot an orbit." She sat down, eyes defiant, her mouth in a straight line.

The men's faces showed astonishment at her words as much as at her outburst.

"I had been knocked unconscious and my leg was broken," Mr. Carver took up the explanation, "so I was out of action for a long time. I'm not fully recovered yet, which is the reason for the discourtesy of this wheel chair. The two boys had to take over all the work of mapping the new system. But I have examined their books and