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

an effort she pulled herself together, and now her smile was firmer, brighter. "Meanwhile, I think we'd better have something to eat. We have to keep up our strength for whatever is coming, you know." 2

When the boys woke up the next morning, their mother reported that their father had apparently had a restful night, coming out of his coma briefly a couple of times.

After breakfast the two boys went into the control room and began examining the various instruments and recorders on the panel, to see if they could figure out how much longer it would take them to reach the system their father was seeking. Through the visiplates they could now see not only the sun toward which Jon said they were heading, but even its nearer planets were beginning to show appreciable discs.

As they were studying these, Jak suddenly asked, "How do you suppose we happened to run into a meteor way out here in space like that?"

Jon shook his head helplessly. "Darned if I can figure it out. I always supposed such stuff was only found inside a planetary system. Must be there's some in deep space, though, since we sure as perch got hit by one." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small marble-sized stone. "Here it is. I hunted around and found it last night. It dented the farther bulkhead, but must have lost so much momentum it couldn't penetrate."

"Just one of those billions-to-one chances, eh?" Jak looked up from his examination of the stone.

"Yes, there's still so much about space nobody knows yet."

Jak thought silently for a moment, then asked, "Well, what do you think we should do next?"

"Keep going, natch." Jon's voice was earnest. "We can't be more than a couple of days away from the nearest planets—and we're over six weeks out of Terra. Pop said this system we're heading for has four or five planets, at least, and that probably Two and Three, and maybe Four, would be fairly Earthlike and habitable. So long as we're so close, it would be wrong if we didn't at least take a close-up looksee at them."

"Yes," slowly, "Father'd want us to do that."

"You know darned well he would. He's sunk almost everything he's got into this ship and this trip, and if we miss now, the government probably wouldn't give us another exclusive crack at it, even if we could scrape up the credits to come out here again."

"Didn't Father say something the other day about his spectro-analyzer—you know, 'Annie'—showing there was...?"

"Yes, 'Annie' popped up strong on that, and that's another reason we've got to keep going—especially since you think Pop'll snap out of it in a few days. You're sure of that, aren't you?" He peered intently into his brother's eyes.

"Yes, as far as I can tell. There's a concussion where his head hit the floor, but I don't think it's too bad, and it should wear off soon."

Jon sighed with relief. "If ... if he was dead, or dying, it would be different, and I'd say go home. But there's another thing. Before we left Terra we heard a rumor Slik Bogin was chasing around out in this sector, and we don't want to let him beat us to this system."

"Bogin? That's the notorious pirate, isn't it? No, if he's out here, we don't want to let him beat us—though what we could do if he did try, I don't know."

"We'll figure that out if he tries to hijack us."

"You hope!" There was a long silence while the boys studied their instruments again. Then, "What about landing, Chubby? Can you do it?"

"I've been studying up on it—put on the sleep-instructor last night." Jon was suddenly half-frightened with the prospect, but determined to keep his voice level. "I've helped Pop land the crate several times—even handled the controls under his instructions—so I think I can do it, with you reading off the manual to me. Anyway, if—if Pop gets worse, we've got to land some time, so we might as well try it here as any time or anywhere."

Jak stood silent a long moment, rubbing his hand through his hair as he did when concentrating. Then he looked up with determination. "Jon, you and I have got ourselves a job to do." And now his voice was steady and earnest. "It's up to us to take care of Mother and keep her from worrying. So, whenever we're where she can hear us, we've got to act brave and sure of ourselves, no matter how we feel inside."

"Yes, she's all broken up about Pop. We ought to do most of the work, too, so she...."

"No," Jak shook his head, "that'd be the worst thing we could do. She isn't sick, physically, and if she keeps busy, she won't have time to worry so much. So we must keep her from having too much idle time."

"Oh ... maybe you're right, Owl ... yes, guess you are, at that—that's more your dish. But we can act like everything's going to jet fair. It's a deal." He held out his hand, and the two brothers clasped in agreement.

They went into the living quarters. "Hi, Mom, lunch ready yet? I'm starved."

"As usual," Jak bantered.

Mrs. Carver looked up apathetically from the recline seat where she had been sitting, worrying, during the several hours the boys had been in the control room. She looked as though she were almost shocked at their seemingly heartless question, forgetting that she, herself, had used the same excuse the night before.

But in a moment she smiled tremulously. "I guess I let myself forget my job, and that we have to go through the motions of living." She rose slowly, and the boys came and put their arms about her. "Mr. C. wouldn't want me to break down like this. I'll try to do better."

She gave her sons a quick hug and went into the little galley, where they heard her moving about from the deep-freeze to cupboards to induction-cooker. Soon the smells of appetizing food spread throughout the ship.

Jon had gone back into the control room and picked up the reelbook on astrogation, opening it to the chart of the pilot panel. He was still studying this and tracing, from the diagrams in the book, the controls, switches and recorders on the panel itself. He memorized each one as he went along, and made sure he knew its functions.

When Jak called him to lunch, Jon carried the reel with him and continued studying it as he absentmindedly ate. His preoccupation with it raised his mother's fears again. "Can you make anything out of it, Son?"

"Huh?" He roused himself then, and grinned at her. "Sure, Mom, it's easy. Pop taught me most of it already, and I'm just refreshing my mind. I'll set us down in one piece, don't you fear."

"How soon will we arrive?"

"About tomorrow noon, I think, by our clocks. No telling what time it'll be there. I'll take measurements again and make sure, right after I'm through eating. We must be about ready to step up our deceleration."

He looked at his mother more intently, and his voice was so earnest it broke from baritone to a childish treble in places. "Mom, I'm not questioning your authority or anything, but you said yesterday that Jak was to be in charge until Pop wakes up. Now, Jak doesn't know anything at all about astrogation, and while I don't know it all, I do know more than he does, and I'll have to handle it. So what about me being in charge of the ship when we're in flight or on landings and take-offs, and Jak in charge other times? Though whatever you say goes, of course," he added hastily.

Somewhat to his surprise, his brother sided with him. The elder seemed to realize this was no time for one of their friendly squabbles about which was to be "top man"; that their very safety depended on the fact that whichever knew the most about any one thing should be the one to have the say about it.

Their mother looked from one to the other helplessly. "I ... I guess that will be all right. You two figure out things between you. You're all the men I have now until your father...." She almost broke into tears then, but pulled herself together. "Yes, you do whatever you think is best about such things."

"We'll handle it," Jak assured her. "But you'll still be boss in chief."

"You say 'when' and 'what,' and Jak and I'll figure out 'how.'" Jon grinned.

She stretched out her arms and grasped each by a hand. "My big boys! I'm sure we'll come through safely. You're getting to be real men." Then she changed her tone and asked, "You're going to land on one of those planets, then, as Mr. C. planned?"

"Being so close, it seems best," Jak answered. "How long we stay will depend on what we do or don't find there."

"Yes, we need a few days' rest on firm ground before we start back to Terra, at least. We want to freshen our air, if we can, and maybe get some fresh food. Besides, we ought to try to get all the necessary data to prove Pop's discovery, if the planets are uninhabited but worth colonizing."

"I agree," seconded Jak, "even if we have to land in some secluded spot and just rest."

"I'll leave it up to you, then." Their mother appeared more like her usual happy self than the boys had seen her since the accident. "I'll keep house like I always have, and you boys do whatever else you think best."

Jak laughed. "We'll be like those Musketeers in that old book I read some time ago. 'All for one and one for all.'" He held out his hand dramatically. "Put your hands on mine, and we'll all swear to it."

Laughing, they did as he suggested, although their mother pretended severity. "You know I don't like swearing, Boys."

Jak grinned. "But I meant this in the sense of 'taking an oath,' not of 'cussing.'"

"Oh," she krinkled her nose at him, grinning with her old-time impishness, "that's different."

Jon rose from the table. "I'll get back to my studying."

"You listen to your mother, and don't study too hard," she warned, knowing how he was apt to "lose himself" in his books. "You need plenty of rest for tomorrow."

"All right, Mom."

But when she went into the control room long after dinner, he was still deep in his reelbook. She took it away from him. "Get to bed, Jon. You promised."

"I'm sorry, Mom. Just got so interested I forgot time." He kissed her. "'Night, Mom. And don't worry. We'll make out swell."

"I'm sure of it." Her words were brave but he could see the tears were perilously close.

"You'd better ask Jak for some barbit, or you won't sleep any better than you did last night," he counseled. "Remember, he and I are going to take turns watching Pop."

"Thank you, Son. Good night."

He touched a switch and the glolights dimmed and went dark as he followed her out.

All the next morning Mrs. Carver and her two sons were in the control room—except for their frequent trips to Mr. Carver's bunk, to see how their patient was getting along. They were studying through the telescopic visiplates the solar system they were rapidly approaching. Jon had figured the sun was a Type G Dwarf, much like Sol, but a little larger. It had, they now knew, only five planets. Three of these—Two, Three and Four—had seven satellites among them. From their distances from the sun, the boys figured that probably Two and Three would have climates that human colonists, with some adaptation, could stand.

Now they were peering even more closely into their plates, as their ship circled the globe beneath them. Jon had maneuvered it into a spiral course about Planet Two, in such a manner that, from a height of about a hundred miles, they could get a good view of the world beneath them, in their telescopic plates.

"Lots of plant life, but I haven't seen anything that looks like cities," Jak said at last.

"Nor I," from their mother and, "Me neither," Jon added.

Their first measurements of this new planet had shown it to be almost the size of Terra, and they had been delighted to see that there was a moon of considerable size, although not as large as Luna. It was about one hundred and fifty thousand miles out.

"There's a number of large seas or oceans," Jak commented without taking his eyes from his visiplate. "Look at that plant life, though—it evidently coats the whole planet. From here it looks like jungle."

"Lots of lakes and rivers on it, and in those plains we saw." Jon was excited. "It sure looks like a wonderful world where men can live."

As they crisscrossed the