Part 5

As the _Rigel_ drove onward, thousands of miles a minute, day upon day, Rob grew impatient to reach Pluto. He was thinking of Jim Hawley and the _Capella_ crew undergoing unknown hardship and peril. The radio circuit with the ill-fated space ship had been left open in case she was able to get a message through. But none had come during all this time, and Rob was beginning to doubt that he would ever see his fun-loving friend again.

The day finally came when the _Rigel_ hovered over the little planet, which was not quite as large a world as Mars. Rob and Duff, with some of the other crewmen in the pilots’ compartment, stared down upon trackless wastes of incredible frozen beauty. Ever since the ship had dropped low enough to reveal the dazzling surface features of the solar system’s most distant planet, no one had spoken. The bizarre landscape seemed to have awed everyone into a state of silent fascination.

Suddenly Duff broke the quiet. “Look, what a pretty blue lake!”

Rob saw the small body of water partly surrounded by a canyon of towering ice cliffs. In the twilight glow of stars and the weak sun, the lake and peaks sparkled with a clarity that reminded Rob of great jewels.

“It’s a lake rightly enough,” Spacemaster O’Leary said. “You can see the ripples, but that’s no water.” He checked the thermocouple. “It’s 348 degrees below zero Fahrenheit down there! That’s a lake of _liquid oxygen_. I’ve seen them on the dark side of Mercury.”

Rob gasped in astonishment. He had visited most of the planets, but there was nothing to compare with a wonder such as this.

Lieutenant Stone then spoke. “Those ice cliffs don’t look to be frozen water. Do you think they might be chunks of dry ice, sir?”

“That’s my opinion,” the spacemaster replied, “—solid carbon dioxide. Notice those other crystal peaks off to the right. They are probably ammonia. I’ve seen them on Mercury, too.”

There was a scant, dense atmosphere close to the ground—that had been known. It was a strange-looking substance, Rob thought. It lay like a blanket of gray-blue mist between the space ship, which was several thousands of feet up, and the ground below. The compressed atmosphere was filled with small clouds of icelike particles which floated lazily near the surface like tiny fish in a cosmic ocean. Everything about the scene suggested a terrible coldness almost beyond human realization.

“Our bearings indicate this is approximately the area where the _Capella_ was last heard from,” the skipper declared. “But I see nothing of the ship. Do any of you?”

With the others, Rob strained his eyes to pick out a shiny cigar shape in the bleak stretches below. It seemed an impossible task, and he was reminded of an old analogy of the elusive needle in the haystack. There were broad areas of dark rock between the icebergs, filmed over lightly with rime. Such dark expanses could account for Pluto’s weak solar reflection, Rob decided.

The _Rigel_ cut its power to a low cruising speed and began making a detailed search. Scanning scopes were used to magnify the view, but the job promised to be a long and painstaking one.

Perhaps it would even take too long to be of any service to the _Capella_, Rob thought gloomily, as his scope swept the ground. His speculations then took an even grimmer turn. Perhaps the lake of oxygen had swallowed up the space ship! Or maybe the craft lay buried under layers of frost.

The hours of search, many of them, dragged by. At last the skipper called his crewmen together and make a pronouncement that shocked Rob.

“There’s no purpose in keeping up the search any longer,” he said decisively. “Even if we should find the ship now, we don’t have enough fuel to land and blast off again. I’m afraid the elements have claimed the _Capella_ and that the first expedition to Pluto will have to be written off the books.”

“But, sir,...!” Rob burst out.

The spacemaster looked at him levelly.

“I’m sorry, Rob. I realize you’ve got a more personal interest in the _Capella_ than the rest of us. But we’re simply licked.”

Rob turned away from him in abject despair and stared unseeingly out of the port. Filling his inner eye, to the oblivion of all else, was the sight of a grinning young spaceman, with a perpetually rumpled shock of blond hair. _He’d never see Jim Hawley again._ Knowing this, it was as though a part of himself had suddenly died.

As the Rigel headed away from the area over which it had cruised unsuccessfully for so long a time, a burst of static came over the long-silent, open circuit of the space ship’s radio. Rob’s heart thrilled with hope. Could it really be the _Capella_ trying to make contact?

More static followed, then a muffled voice, barely audible, saying: “_Capella_ to space ship. Can you hear?”

Spacemaster O’Leary scooped up the radio mike, eager as a child. “Yes! Yes! Give your location!”

The communication came over badly, but O’Leary found out that he was speaking to the _Capella_’s skipper, Spacemaster Nielson. Port telescopes were pointed to the spot given as the location of the downed rocket. Rob focused his on the upright craft, which was buried in hoarfrost and situated on the top of a slope leading down into the blue oxygen lake. Rob realized that only the luckiest of glances could have picked up the camouflaged ship.

On the mike again, Spacemaster O’Leary asked, “Are all aboard the ship well?”

“We’re all suffering from the cold,” was the reply. “Remember we’ve been here for weeks, although it seems like years! We had to draw from the atomic reactor to make a heater, but that isn’t adequate. Some of the men have frostbite. The ship is under a foot of frozen matter as you can see. The truth of the matter is we came woefully unprepared to tackle such an icebox!”

“How did you get marooned?” asked O’Leary.

“As soon as we landed, the frost began piling up,” Nielson replied. “It clogged our jets and our aerial, which is the reason we lost contact with Earth. The hull defrosters were a complete failure. We just now got the antenna partially repaired after all these weeks. One of the crewmen, Jim Hawley, had to work outside on it. He’s taken an especially rough beating from the cold.”

“I hate to tell you this,” O’Leary said somberly, “but I don’t know how we can save you.” He explained about the lowered fuel supply. Then he reminded Spacemaster Nielson of the fact that even should the _Rigel_ enter Pluto’s atmosphere, she would most certainly be overcome by the same fate that had been the _Capella_’s.

Rob, hearing this, made a suggestion to Spacemaster O’Leary. “The two space boats may be able to go down there and back before the frost gets them, sir.”

The _Rigel_’s commander looked at him gravely, “I can’t ask a crewman to take a chance like that.”

Rob looked at him steadily. “I’ll pilot one of the boats myself, sir.”

“You Allisons have more courage than sense,” O’Leary retorted gruffly. “But you can try it.”

Lieutenant Stone spoke up. “I’ll take the other boat down, sir. Lieutenant Myers can fill in as navigator if I fail to get back.”

Shortly later, as Rob climbed into one of the rescue craft, Duff Ford followed him, similarly clothed in a cumbersome space suit. “You may need some help, Rob,” he said.

Rob smiled at him. “Thanks, Duff. I guess I would like some company.”

Both youths carried heat guns, as did Lieutenant Stone, for blasting ice. The escape locks of the _Rigel_ opened, and the boats slipped out into the vacuum of space. The life crafts were propelled by jets of compressed air and could seat nine men comfortably. Both boats would thus easily accommodate the sixteen crew members of the _Capella_. The suits worn by Rob and Duff were like those carried by the _Capella_’s crew on the expedition. They were heavily insulated, electrically heated, and contained air spaces for additional prevention of heat loss.

Rob dove quickly toward the planet’s surface. Time was the important element in this venture. He saw the capsule shape of Lieutenant Stone’s boat, which had gotten a head start, just below. Rob felt a steady battering against the hull as he neared the ground. This was caused by the suspended frozen particles in the atmosphere.

Rob opened the forward braking jets, which poured against the big flat area of dry ice beneath. A dense cloud enveloped the craft as the surface of the carbon dioxide was warmed and evaporated into gas.

The landing, therefore, had to be made more through judgment than through vision. When Rob felt a gentle bump under him, he felt immeasurably better.

“That was close!” Duff remarked over his helmet radio.

“I see the lieutenant landed safely too,” Rob said. “He’s getting out.”

“He left his jets idling,” Duff said. “Maybe we ought to do the same.”

“Right,” Rob agreed. Cutting down the engine power, he then jumped out with his heat gun, followed by Duff.

The _Capella_ stood about forty feet away. The flat of dry ice was free of the cloud now, and visibility was good under the glow of the stars and the sun, which resembled a bright arc light. As Lieutenant Stone came over with his gun in hand, Rob was shocked to see a coating of frost growing over the officer’s suit just like a fur covering! The same thing was happening to him and Duff, of course. Rob was grateful for the antifreeze compound which had been rubbed onto the facepiece of his helmet to keep vision clear.

“Let’s get over there,” the lieutenant said over his helmet radio.

Rob could already feel the insidious cold getting in to him, seemingly to the very marrow of his bones. The grimness of the situation was relieved to some extent as he saw Lieutenant Stone crunching along in front of him, clouds of vaporizing dry ice swirling comically upward with every step he took. It looked as though his boots were smoking!

The _Capella_ was an awesome, frigid sight. Its prow jutted upward into the twilight sky like a gigantic icicle. It seemed unbelievable that anyone could still be alive inside such a desolate, arctic tomb. Rob and his companions made a quick search about the ship to see which place had the thinnest coating of ice on it.

“I believe the jet chambers are the easiest escape openings,” Rob suggested. “There’s less ice on them than anywhere else.”

Lieutenant Stone nodded. “Let’s start blasting.”

Dense white vapors poured over them from the generated heat as they fired upward into the jet cylinders. There were small, rocking explosions, and balls of fire burst before their eyes. Duff was knocked off his feet, and Rob and the officer were shaken. Duff rose again and valiantly went back to work with his companions.

“We must have ignited small amounts of explosive gases in the atmosphere,” Lieutenant Stone said.

The explosions began to be fewer, but the white vapors persisted. At last holes were opened in three of the large cylinders. Rob looked up, and presently space-suited figures appeared overhead in the opening he had blasted out. The men quickly hooked ladders, used for cleaning the jet chambers, over the side and started down—clumsily after the bitter ordeal they had gone through.

Some were so overcome by the raw cold they could scarcely walk when they were outside. One of the research scientists complained mournfully about having to leave his equipment behind. Each man was assisted across the ice to the waiting space boats. Spacemaster Nielson, who appeared in somewhat better shape than most of his men, helped in this.

“The engines have gone dead!” Duff noticed.

“I sure hope we can get them started up again,” the lieutenant groaned, helping the last crewman he was to take into his rocket.

Rob told Lieutenant Stone to go on, that he had only one more crewman to help out of the _Capella_. Lieutenant Stone got in, closed the door, and started up the stalled jets. They sputtered reluctantly, then began firing evenly. Rob was grateful to see the capsule shape lift safely into the sky a moment later.

Rob and Duff returned to the doomed ship and motioned for the last crewman at the top of the rocket shaft to come down. The space-suited figure was about to start when he suddenly collapsed and fell over on the floor up above!

“Give me a boost into the chamber,” Rob asked Duff.

Duff assisted him, and he caught hold of the lower rung of the ladder and pulled himself inside. It was an exhausting climb up the ladder in his bulky suit, and for a moment or two he thought he could not make it except for the man’s pressing need.

Finally he reached the floor level and leaned over the crewman who had collapsed. It was Jim Hawley, his face ashy gray with cold! Rob hastily propped him over his shoulders. In Pluto’s light gravity pull it was not too much of a load.

Carefully Rob started down the ladder. The icy glaze that encrusted the metal rungs was treacherous. A fall might easily be fatal, for a torn suit would bring quick death from the temperature.

Rob found Duff jumping up and down to keep warm. He looked like a frolicking polar bear in his frost-whitened suit. Gently Rob handed the limp body of Jim Hawley down to Duff. Then Rob leaped to the ground. Together they started off, supporting Jim between them. Suddenly Duff halted, jerking Rob backward. Rob turned and saw Duff pointing upward at the _Capella_, which was tottering on its base fins! The fire blasts had obviously upset the ship’s balance.

Rob motioned for them to hurry. Just as they reached the space boat they felt the ground tremble. They turned and saw the space ship topple over with a ground-shaking crash and begin to roll down the slope toward the lake of liquid oxygen.

Rob gave a cry of fear.

“What’s the matter?” Duff asked.

His voice came muffled over Rob’s helmet. It seemed that the freeze was going to destroy their means of communication too. “When the ship reaches that lake, there’s going to be a fierce explosion!” Rob replied.

“Why?” Duff inquired.

“Our heat guns warmed up the ship and when it hits the lake,” Rob told him, “the liquid oxygen will reach its boiling point and vaporize with terrific force!”

Duff’s steps quickened at this, and finally the two, with their burden, were at the craft. They blasted at the frozen seams of the door with their guns. Even in the few minutes’ time, layers of frost covered the small rocket. White clouds and small explosions accompanied his and Duff’s efforts.

The door had had to be closed in order to keep the crewmen inside from suffering even more from the bone-chilling temperature. Through the frosted window Rob could see the men pushing against the door with their feeble strength, trying to help.

Rob felt panicky. It appeared that the few minutes’ delay in rescuing Jim might cost them their lives. He glanced down at the huddle on the ground that was Jim Hawley. If Jim didn’t get out of this biting freeze in another minute, he would probably never survive it.

Suddenly remembering the terrible danger from the _Capella_, Rob glanced in its direction through an opening in the clouds. “There’s a break!” he said hopefully over his radio. “An ice boulder has blocked the ship temporarily!”

In reply, Rob heard only a muffled squawk over his receiver. Their radios had succumbed to the freeze.

When it appeared that the door seams were free enough, Rob and Duff dropped their guns and began tugging on the door. Those inside pushed at the same time. With a tearing sound the door swung open. Rob and Duff helped Jim in swiftly.

“Keep him on his feet and moving!” Rob told them, forgetting for a moment that his radio was dead. He then made motions to show what he wanted them to do.

He jerked the door partially closed, took his pilot’s seat, and started the jets. They choked and gave fitful bursts. Then they died. Rob grabbed up his heat gun and hopped outside. He crunched over dry ice to the rear of the space boat and began blasting into the jet tubes.

The numbing glacial cold seeped through his insulated boots and space dress. He stamped his feet as he worked. Now and then he cast a glance at the _Capella_, which was working free of the ice boulder and slipping downhill again. The instantaneous freezing nature of the climate was causing friction and helping to delay the huge craft to some extent.

A moment later, when Rob decided that the jet tubes were opened, a strange feeling came over him. It was a mixture of giddiness and sleepy lethargy.

“You’re freezing to death!” his subconscious warned. “Get moving! Get moving!” He shook himself and staggered back on numb legs to the door of the space boat. His head cleared as he forced open the door with the help of Duff from inside. He crawled in and slumped into his seat, panting heavily and drinking in gulps of sweet oxygen.

He dared not even think what would happen if the jets should not fire this time. He switched on the power and slammed his foot against the choking pedal. The jets sputtered, then quickened, then purred with regularity! Rob heaved a mighty sigh and opened the throttle. The space boat lifted into the sky with a jolt that caused the weary passengers to tumble against each other.

When they were well above the ground, Rob motioned for Duff to keep his eyes on the _Capella_, which was nearing its destruction. A moment later they saw it plunge into the oxygen lake, and Rob flinched. There followed a ghastly flash and roar, a detonation that was as fierce as Rob had predicted. The two young spacemen felt some of the shock currents even at their height. But they were safely above the danger, and that was all that really mattered.

Some hours later the _Rigel_ was heading earthward again. As soon as he was permitted, Rob paid a visit to the infirmary where most of the crew of the _Capella_ lay for treatment. In one of the beds Rob saw a familiar smiling face and touseled sandy head that warmed his heart.

“Hi, hero!” Jim Hawley greeted. He had a comical appearance with his cold-reddened ears and nose.

“How are you doing, Jim?” Rob asked, pressing his shoulder gently.

“Fine. I’ve got some frostbitten appendages, but the doc says I won’t lose any of them, thanks to you.”

“Thanks to you, your whole crew was saved,” Rob countered. “If you hadn’t fixed that antenna....”

Jim looked thoughtful for a moment. “I guess it’s thanks to everybody on this trip, Rob.”

Thinking of the heroic work of Lieutenant Stone and Duff on Pluto and the other crewmen who had trusted their lives to his doubtful theory in the Saturn crisis, Rob had to agree with him. “You’re right, Jim,” he murmured. “This trip it’s ‘thanks to everybody.’ And I can’t say it too much.”

MERCY FLIGHT TO LUNA

Toby Workman stared out of the window of his room on the rim of the space station, wondering what he should do. As the countless stars of black space trooped slowly past in an endless caravan, the boy was still haunted by the nightmare of last week. That nightmare could yet end forever his dreams of a space pilot’s career. Toby was looking in the direction of the mist-covered globe, five thousand miles away, which was Earth. The space station was a celestial lookout, a scientific laboratory, and a harbor for space-going rockets.

“What’re you thinking, Toby?” asked Lou Penner, his roommate.

“I’m wondering if I should take Dr. Shepard and Deb to Luna,” Toby answered.

“Are you crazy?” Lou blurted. “Do you think they’d ride with you after all that mess that happened last week? Remember, too, you never did get along with Deb’s dad very well.”

Toby turned from the window, his sturdy shoulders slumped in defeat, a brooding unhappiness on his sensitive face. “You sound just like the others, Lou,” he said bitterly.

“I’m not saying I believe you were responsible for the accident,” Lou said carefully. “I’m just giving you the cold facts.”

Just then over the wall speaker of their room came another appeal for a pilot to carry the doctor and his daughter, who was a nurse trainee, on the desperate mission to Luna to administer antitoxin in the sudden outbreak of contagious fever.

“There’s no one else, Lou,” Toby said. “I’m the only licensed pilot on the space station right now. You’ve got fifty hours to go yet on yours, and the express bringing other pilots from Mars won’t be in for a long time. A delay may let the fever grow into an epidemic.” Toby opened his locker and began pulling out flying gear. “I’m going to try it, Lou.”

“How are you going to get the doctor to ride with you?” Lou wanted to know.

“Just keep out of his sight until we’ve blasted off and are on our way,” Toby said. “Then he’ll have to go along.”

Lou grinned at him. “I should have guessed you’d try this, knowing how daring you are and your mania for helping people.”

The event which had been ruinous for Toby had occurred when he had been piloting a sight-seeing rocket for vacationists from Earth. It was his first big job. While they were coming into dock on the giant revolving wheel which was the space station, something had happened to the braking rockets, and the ship had collided with the hangar, injuring several people. When it was discovered that nothing was wrong with the rockets, Toby was unofficially accused of negligence pending further investigation, although his license hadn’t been taken away. If no mechanical defect should be found, Toby knew he would be suspended from space flying indefinitely, possible for life.

Toby had Lou inform the operations officer of his offer to make the flight to Luna. Then he dressed and made his way toward the inner hub of the wheel where the vast hangar was located. He walked along the narrow corridors in a jerky movement, not yet having gotten used to the artificial gravity which was created by the continual rotation of the space station. He and Lou had been on the station only a month. Many high-school students came here every summer in order to build up a flying record, thereby hastening the day when they would be full-fledged rocket pilots.

As he looked for his ship, Toby saw the investigating crew still examining the big craft in which he’d had the accident. Their significant report might come at any time. Toby had the small rocket flyer, which Lou and he were renting together, towed to the air lock. Toby wished he had time to have the ship checked, but if he waited for that, they’d lose their precious time advantage.

Toby waited, with pounding heart and idling rocket motors, for his passengers. Presently, through the side port of his pilot’s compartment, he could see the brisk strides of Dr. Shepard and his young daughter. A steward helped the two inside with their medical equipment, then waved a farewell to Toby.

“All set, sir?” Toby called to the doctor.

“Yes,” Dr. Shepard returned.

Toby clamped shut the airtight door. He revved the motors to launching thrust, and their roar drowned out the quiet hissing of the oxygen out-putter. He fastened his safety belt, told the others to do so, and then was off.

When the painful effects of blast-off were over and the ship was on a smooth trajectory, Toby heard a click of metallic soles along the magnetic floor and braced himself for the unpleasantness he knew was coming.

When Dr. Shepard recognized him, he exclaimed angrily, “You!”

“Yes, it’s I, sir,” Toby admitted. “I knew you and Deb had to get to Luna as quickly as possible.”

The doctor’s lean, angular face reddened. “But you’re incompetent! I thought your license had been revoked! If you believe you’re doing something heroic, Toby, consider also that you’re risking the lives of us who could be of service to those stricken people on Luna!” He paused a moment for breath, then went on. “A person your age has no business flying rocket ships in the first place. It’s a job for older men with mature judgment!”