Marooned on Mars Page 3

  Chuck paused to take a long look at the big rocket ship before he nodded for Dick to start the tractor. In the sky overhead, he could barely make out the tiny dot that was Mars. It seemed farther way than it had ever been before.

  CHAPTER 3

  The Wrong Birthday

  Chuck’s mother met him at the door, and her face was filled with worry for him.

  “You’ve got company, Charles,” his mother told him. “I sent the young man into your room. I didn’t want you to be bothered.”

  Chuck tried to smile at her. He nodded and went into his room.

  The young man sitting there looked more uncomfortable than Chuck. The light olive complexion and the definitely Chinese eyes of the visitor showed the reason; Chuck’s replacement was not only on the Moon, but in his own room!

  The stranger stood up awkwardly and held out a hand. “I’m Lewis Wong, Mr. Svensen. I guess you know why I’m here. I—I just want you to know I think it’s a dirty trick. That’s why I came here the first thing.”

  It took Chuck by surprise, and he fumbled for words, but the other went on quickly.

  “I saw the figures on your tests, and you’re the man for the job. Anyhow, you had it first So I hope your Governor’s appeal goes through.”

  “I thought it had been turned down,” Chuck cut in.

  “No—not when I left. They hadn’t gotten to it. I’m here just in case they do turn you down. Look, Mr. Svensen, I learned how they feel about you up here—your friend Foldingchair made that clear. I… nice radar set you have there. I… oh, doggone it all, I mean, I can refuse to go, can’t I?”

  Chuck turned it over, feeling as awkward as the other looked. He wondered what he would have done, had the situation been reversed. But he had to make some answer. “Suppose they picked me and I refused to go,” he began.

  “Yeah.” Wong nodded, his eyes on the floor. “Yeah, I guess I wouldn’t want the position then much, either. It was just an idea. What do they call you—Chuck?”

  “Except for my mother. She doesn’t like the nickname, though I guess she’s used to it. Hey, Lew, how’d you like to come out to the ship with me tomorrow? It’s about done, but I can sort of help you get the feel of things. It makes this stuff look pretty sick.”

  They began to discuss Chuck’s rig then; Lew apparently knew more theory than Chuck, though he’d had less chance to practice with the super-long-range sets. This set had been one of the leading arguments in Chuck’s favor, since he’d built it out of worn or rejected parts from the .big set at the receiving station and had erected his own beamed antennas. The testing board had commented openly on the fact that it showed he could improvise—and improvising might prove important on the long journey.

  “Where are you staying. Lew?” Chuck asked finally.

  Lew shrugged, “I don’t know—I suppose they’ve assigned me rooms, but I came here first, as soon as I’d registered. Why?”

  “That means you’ll be quartered with one of the crew. Why not stay here, instead? After supper, I can heat up the rig and we’ll try a few calls to Earth. Hey, Mom!”

  Mrs. Svensen agreed readily enough, as Chuck had known she would. If she was surprised, she didn’t show it. That night Chuck slept in the same room with the man he’d been almost hating the night before. He lay awake for some time, thinking about it. It would have been so simple, if Lew had proved to be unlikable; now he couldn’t even hope for the Council to decide in his favor without worrying about the blow it would be to the other.

  Yet, strangely, he felt better in a way. Having someone almost his own age to talk to had taken some of the pressure off him. He began planning the next day, until sleep finally clouded his mind.

  As it turned out, though, they didn’t get to the ship. The next day the decision came from the Council.

  Living on the Moon, Chuck had forgotten other things. He had learned to accept all men and all nationalities as equal, but there were still traces of racial jealousy on the mother planet. Seven nations had joined with the United States and Governor Braithwaite in asking for Chuck’s exemption from the charter rule, but China remained adamant.

  The delegate from the Chinese Republic was honest about it Chuck, he admitted, was better fitted in some ways, and it was a very nice idea to have someone from the Moon on the ship. But other promising candidates had been turned down because of their age—some only a few days from that required. One of them had been of Chinese stock, though a citizen of the United States, like Lewis Wong.

  Caucasians had reached the Moon first. Now it was only fair that a descendant of China be among the first to reach another planet. The delegate regretted the hardship to Chuck, of course. But he could only refuse, both in justice and in loyalty to those of his race, to have anything to do with changing the rules.

  China cast her vote, and under the rules only a unanimous decision could change the charter. Chuck Svensen would not be allowed to make the trip to Mars.

  “Jingoism,” Lew Wong said hotly. “I’m no more Chinese than Dick Steele is African. I’m just plain American, Chuck, like you. When the United States voted against me, why couldn’t they let it stand?”

  Chuck’s father shook his head slowly. “No, Lew. No more jingoism than the idea the Moon should be represented. There’s nothing wrong with being proud of your race—and that’s all the Chinese delegate was doing. You can’t blame him. If Chuck can’t go, then he can’t—and I’m glad you’re the one to take his place.”

  Chuck was glad his father had said it. The shock of hearing the verdict had left him speechless for a moment, even though he had been fairly sure of what it would be.

  He grabbed Lew’s hand and shook it, without knowing quite what he was saying. He didn’t even hear his new friend’s lame excuse for leaving, and was only half-aware when Lew left. .

  William Svensen stood up slowly, tamping out the ashes from his pipe. It had been almost as much of a blow to him as to Chuck.

  But his voice was calm enough as he began putting new tobacco into the pipe. “Tough luck, kid. By the way, Vance and Rothman are testing the Eros tomorrow. Vance told me today he was going to see you get the first chance at her, no matter what happened. So you’d better get to bed. You’ll need a clear head for the test.”

  “Lew should make it,” Chuck protested weakly. “He’ll need the experience. I guess—”

  The phone cut him off, and his father picked it up. “Sure, Doc… What?… Look, he was feeling fine a few minutes ago…. Oh… we’ll be there!”

  He swung around to Chuck quickly. “Lew just reported in to Medical. Doc Barnes says it looks like appendicitis. Says the boy claims he’s been bothered ever since he got up here.”

  “It’s a fake. Dad.”

  “Of course it is. Fool kid. Come on!”

  Doctor Barnes met them inside the infirmary and led them into his office. There was a little smile on his sharp-featured face. “Looks like you’ll have to go. Chuck,” he began.

  Svensen cut him short. “Doc, you know Lew Wong has no more appendicitis than I have. If you’re just playing along with it so my boy can go in his place, you’re making a mistake. I’m not going to permit it! Chuck won’t go; the Council says he can’t, and that settles it. They’d only send someone else, anyhow.”

  “But—” The doctor’s face purpled for a second. Finally, he nodded. “I. guess you’re right, Will. It seemed like a good idea, but it wouldn’t work. Um-m-m. Still, Wong just might have a touch of chronic appendicitis that shows up under a gravity change; in that case, I’d be risking his life if I didn’t forbid his going without a full examination and consultation. If he insists he feels sick, my hands are tied.”

  “How about symptoms?”

  “He’s either read up on it—any good encyclopedia would do—or he has something. There’s no fever, though, and his pulse is normal.”

  Svensen lifted an inquiring eyebrow toward Chuck, then nodded. “Okay, son, get in there and change his mind. And if you can’t, I�
��ll do it with a hairbrush!”

  Lew was sitting on the cot in the little receiving room, smiling faintly. As Chuck came in, he dropped back and began groaning.

  Chuck stared at him. “I’m not going. Lew. Even if I wanted to replace you, Dad wouldn’t let me. If you want to hold up the ship while they find someone else, you can…But you can count me out. I’m not even going on the test flight. That’s your job. Thanks for the try, but it’s no dice!”

  He swung about sharply and went out, closing the door

  before Lew could argue with him. It was only a minute later that Lew followed him, looking sheepish.

  “I guess you think I’m a complete fool,” he admitted. “Okay, it was just an idea that didn’t work. But you’re going on the test flight. Chuck.”

  The doctor reached for the admittance card and began tearing it up. The other three started back toward the Svensen home, with Lew still trying to convince Chuck that he should make the test hop.

  But Chuck had decided. He’d had enough of half-hopes and plans that didn’t amount to anything. There was no sense in teasing himself with something that could only make him envy Lew the more.

  “I’ll be watching you,” he finished. “From the surface here. But if I can’t go to Mars, I’m too old to play games. It’s your job. Lew. And that’s that.”

  “And what about you?”

  Svensen dropped his arms over the shoulders of the two-boys. “Chuck will want to learn piloting under Jeff Foldingchair—Jeff asked about it when I talked to him last night. Eighteen’s the right age for that too. And when the next rocket goes to Mars—well, I’m betting the other pilots won’t have a chance against a Moon boy who can pilot and run a radar set to boot. Right, son?”

  “Right!” It had been Chuck’s wish once, though he’d never hoped to get his mother’s permission to attempt his own piloting, But she’d never go against his father’s promise. He grinned at Lew. “There’ll be other trips, chum.”

  Behind them, someone had been calling excitedly, but they had been too busy to pay attention. Now in the momentary silence, Chuck heard his name. He turned, to see the Governor’s male secretary racing toward them. “Governor Braithwaite wants to see you at once!”

  ‘The council changed their minds?” Lew exclaimed.

  “No, no.” The secretary frowned. “Of course not. But they have made another decision. In fact, the delegate from China sponsored it. The news just came in.”

  They followed Jam, trying to get more information out of him, but he was enjoying the mystery and refused to tell any more. After the cat and mouse game of the last few days, Chuck had stopped reacting. He wasn’t going to get all he wanted, but he’d still do all right. Just being part of Moon City was something worth being happy about. That, plus a chance to become a rocket pilot, was enough. He couldn’t really kick. Going to Mars was something like going to heaven—and most people had to die to do that.

  Probably the Council had decided to make some official apology to him, or to grant him full adult status on the Moon, with the right to hold an official job. It would be nice enough, but it wouldn’t be important.

  Governor Braithwaite was beaming happily as they entered. He shook Chuck’s hand warmly, muttering something about how sorry he was that his appeals had failed. But there was something else on his mind, obviously, and he wasted little time in getting down to it.

  “Chuck, you’ve no idea how much those ratings of yours impressed the Council. They were up for hours of consideration before the vote, you know. I tell you, it isn’t every day a young man can take up that much time in the United Nations! They’ve decided you’re being wasted here. Look!”

  He handed Chuck a long transcript of a radargram, and stood beaming while the boy read it. Chuck skipped the formal part, until he came to the point of it:

  At the request of the Delegate from the Republic of China, it is therefore resolved that Charles Svensen, now a resident of Moon City, shall be granted a Council Scholarship, as provided in the Act establishing the Committee for Educational Allocation. This Scholarship shall be for the period of six years at any university of his choice duly approved, to lead to a degree of Ph.D. in physics with any branch of electronics as a major study. During this time, Charles Svensen shall be considered a candidate for Council Advisor, and shall spend three months of each year at the behest of the Council in attendance at the Council meetings in the capacity of a Junior Advisor, for which he shall receive a recompense of $7,000 per annum, minus costs of tuition.

  There was more official stuff, but Chuck had seen enough. He handed it back to the Governor. “That means they want me to take a course in electronics for six years and then go into United Nations work—research, I suppose?”

  “Precisely.” Governor Braithwaite beamed harder than ever. “You know, that’s a remarkable resolution. Chuck. The Council absolutely shouted when the Chinese Delegate proposed it. They’ve only granted the full honor like this eight times in history, you know.”

  “What about it, Dad?” Chuck asked.

  His father shrugged. “It sounds like a fine opportunity—better than I could ever offer you. If you want it, take it. You’ll make more than you will piloting rockets.”

  “And have to give up the Moon as well as Mars,” Chuck said. He shook his head. “No thanks. Governor Braithwaite, you can fix it up in fancy language. Just tell them I don’t feel I can accept, and that I prefer to stay right here on the Moon!”

  Braithwaite’s face fell. He rubbed his hands together, and stared at the rug under his feet. He shuffled his papers about nervously. “I’m afraid I can’t. Chuck.” Again he shuffled the papers. “You see—dash it, you can’t stay on the Moon. The Council never dreamed you’d refuse. They’ve already sent orders for me to pick up your Lunar permit within two weeks—and you know you can’t stay here without one.”

  Chuck knew that; getting onto the Moon was something like being cleared for entrance into one of the most secret laboratories on Earth, only harder. Even Tippy had required a special permit, after Jeff had brought him out.

  “And—” Governor Braithwaite cleared his throat, as the shocked look deepened on his face. “And it takes two years after a permit is picked up before you can apply for anything but a visitor’s one-week stay, you know. That’s part of the original Moon charter. Of course, you could appeal—though why you’d want to, I’m sure I don’t know. But the delegates are human, after all, and they might feel insulted.”

  He forced his face into .its usual cheerful expression. “Besides, think of the opportunities. Chuck. Why, you’re one of the luckiest boys in the world. There’s no telling how far you can go. Think it over tonight, and you’ll see. You’ll see.”

  Chuck had already seen enough. Sure, it was an honor, and he was grateful for their intentions. But the Council had never been off Earth, and they couldn’t know what they were doing.

  They’d promised him Mars and they were taking even the Moon away from him.

  CHAPTER 4

  Stowaway to Mars

  The area around the Eros was bathed in floodlights the next morning, and half of Moon City had turned out to watch the test flight. The Moon had swung about on its orbit until all of Albategnius crater was in darkness. Now one of the big searchlights swung around to follow a little tractor that came toward the ship, bearing five figures in clean, new space suits.

  Captain Miles Vance, pilot Nat Rothman, and Lew Wong; of the crew, would make the test Jeff Foldingchair, dressed in a slightly oversized suit designed for the crew doctor, was going at the request of the Space Commission, since his experience might be needed in an emergency. The fifth suit was worn by Chuck. It had come out from Earth before the Council’s decision, and was too good to waste. There was even a tiny radio in the helmet which would enable him to talk with the others wearing similar suits.

  Now Captain Vance’s voice sounded in the headphones. “Still time to change your mind. Chuck.”

  “No.” Out of habi
t, he shook his bead inside the helmet, f “I’m not going as supercargo. Anyhow, Mom didn’t like the idea of my being on the test, so I promised her I wouldn’t. She still thinks the ship may crack up, unless the test proves it to her.”

  He snapped the little switch in his glove, cutting off any further conversation, and jumped off the tractor to join the crowd. People were already moving back out of the danger area.

  Chuck hadn’t even wanted to watch the test, but now some of the crowd feeling seemed to reach him. The tractor went on to the ladder leading up to the ship’s air lock, and his eyes followed the four figures up and into the ship.

  Another helmet touched his, and he turned to see the Governor. “Bonan matenon. Chuck. Feel better now?”

  Chuck tried to grin. He still felt the same, but there was no use blaming the Governor or making him fed worse.

  “I guess so,” he said. “But I’d still rather stay on the Moon.”

  “U-m-m-m. Well, you know, I even sent out feelers to Earth—but they’re going ahead with plans for you. Cheer up, boy, you’ll enjoy the university life. It’s just taking a little time to get used to the idea.”

  Chuck nodded again, and drew back info the crowd. The Governor had grown up when airplanes were the glamorous machines, and couldn’t know what it was like to be born with a yearning for space and other worlds.

  Now the crowd was drawing back faster. Chuck found a position where a convenient rock gave him a seat, and dropped onto it. The Eros sent a tentative spurt of shooting flame from its tubes, leaping two feet off the surface. It settled back, while meters were being read and compared with expected figures. Then the floodlights bunked twice, and the crowd tensed.

  This time the flames from the rockets were a deep purple that seemed to etch the ground out from under them; the sound traveled through the rocks, and set up vibrations in the soles of Chuck’s boots. The huge ship jumped from the ground like a race horse leaving the post. It leaped a hundred feet, five hundred, a mile, almost before Chuck could raise his neck to follow it.