Part 4

It consisted of an exceptionally strong broadcasting unit that beamed the message of a tape, continuously, toward Terra. Jon made up the tape while Jak was giving the feeding. It read, "This planetary system was first discovered by Tad Carver, on fourteenth January, 2136. This is the second planet, and has been named 'Marci.'"

Over and over, at five-minute intervals, the sender would broadcast that message on a beam aimed at Terra. The controlling mechanism was a marvelously precise uranium clock, and a small atomic motor with fuel enough for five years gave all the needed power.

By the terms of the Terran Colonial laws, this was supposed to entitle the prime discover to certain rights in the system. For one thing, he would receive a one-half per cent share of the value of all minerals, oils, jewels and certain other natural resources later colonists might wrest from those planets, for twenty years following his discovery and the acceptance of his claim.

In this way, the Colonial Board of the World Government of Terra sponsored and assured the far-flung exploration which the development of deep-space travel had made possible. The dangers and expense were so considerable that something well worth while had to be offered to make individuals or companies willing to gamble on the hardships and tremendous costs of exploration.

When the boys left the ship to place the marker, they left both lockdoors open so that the fresh morning air from outside could circulate throughout the ship, replacing the somewhat stuffy, although chemically pure air that their purifiers kept renewed.

"Keep your eyes and ears open, and shut the doors if you think there's any danger," both boys cautioned their mother, after making sure she knew how to work the door controls.

"I will," she promised with a laugh, and couldn't help adding, "Just you be as careful as I'll be."

The boys carried the signal-sender to a distant corner of the clearing, to what Jon said was a good spot. "The book says to dig a hole and plant it with the top projecting three inches above the ground, whenever such a thing is possible."

"You know what to do, so take charge," Jak said simply. When they had dug the hole and placed the sender in it, they shoveled the dirt back, then Jon opened the lid. He started the tape reels and the broadcasting unit, then carefully shut and locked the cover.

In digging, they found the ground here to be damp and soggy, apparently from that terrific downpour of the previous evening. It was almost like a wet clay, although, even to their inexperienced eyes, it seemed to be a very rich type of soil.

"Look how wet it is, even over two feet down," Jon said.

"That was a real rain last night," Jak shook his head slowly, "but somehow I can't believe it made this. Maybe this is the rainy season."

They started toward the jungle, but turned to look back toward the ship. They saw their mother at the open door, and waved to her.

After seeing her answering wave, they plunged into the forest at a point where they saw a trail, left either by the frequent passings of the great triped they had shot, or by other beasts of some type not yet seen. Memory of that gigantic beast, though, made them doubly cautious.

"Sure don't want to meet his relatives," Jon said.

"Especially the mate," Jak added, and could not conceal a shiver.

They had noticed with considerable interest and surprise that those native ant-like scavengers had almost entirely eaten the bones of the triped.

"Apparently we'll not find much in the way of remains on this world," Jak commented as they walked carefully along the trail. "Those scavenger birds and ants sure clean up things in a hurry."

"Except for old vegetation," Jon grunted as he stumbled over a dead branch protruding out into the trail. He was keeping his rifle ready in his hands, and his keen eyes alert to one side and then the other, rather than downward.

Knowing his younger brother was so carefully on guard, Jak felt free to study and examine the various trees and other plant life near the irregular path they were following. He was almost in a frenzy of delight, constantly darting off the trail a few yards to look at some specimen he had detected, studying it carefully and exclaiming over his find.

"Hey, this one is like an _acer compestris_," he yelped, intently studying the bark with his magnifying glass.

"Spik Englis," Jon scolded. "What is it?"

"A hard maple," Jak's voice was condescending. Then he ran over to another. "This one's almost like a silver poplar. See how its light bark glints where the sunlight hits it?"

He started toward another farther away, but Jon called him back. "Don't get so far from the trail." Reluctantly, Jak retraced his steps, only to be off again a moment later.

"This 'un's got nuts almost like small coconuts." He picked a fallen one from the ground and tossed it to Jon. "See if you can crack it and find out what's inside."

But when Jon had done so, it proved to be dried and half-rotted. They could not get a fresh one from the tree by shaking, and it was too smooth and high to climb without spurs.

Jak quickly filled his knapsacks with first one and then another of the smaller plants, twigs and leaves he was continually finding. Soon Jon was laughing heartily, for his brother now had to discard an older specimen to make room for the new.

"You'll have to make several trips to get anywhere near all of those just around here, Owl," Jon called at last. "You can't take back everything, anyway. Way you're going now, you'd soon have the ship so full of your junk there'd be no place for us. And this is only the first planet, remember?"

"But these are unique," Jak wailed. "Botanists will want to study them."

"Then let them come here," Jon stated practically.

Jak looked at him, and grew shamefaced. "Guess I did go a little nuts," he said. But before long his excitement rose to fever pitch again. "There's so much here that's new and different, yet something like the ones we know. I must take back samples of everything."

"How many different kinds of--oh, say, roses--are there on Terra?"

"Why ... why ... I don't really know. Hundreds, I'm sure. Maybe thousands. What's that got to do with this?"

"Simply trying to make you realize you can't take back samples of 'everything,' as you said."

"Ouch!" Jak laughed good-naturedly then. "You've got me, pal. I'll take it easier."

But he soon forgot his good intentions as he found ever newer and more different plants and trees and mosses. There was such a dissimilarity, yet at the same time so many points of likeness between the plant life of this new world and that of Terra, that the young botanist was in a continual state of excitement.

Jon, meanwhile, although still keeping a sharp watch for any possible dangers, had been noticing the profusion of other life in this jungle. There were a number of different bird forms, although he saw that those he was close enough to examine were fur-covered rather than feathered. Nor did they seem to be songsters, for the only noises he heard were the soughing of the wind through the trees and vines and bushes, and the _swish_ of wings as the birds flew past.

They had gone some distance when he stopped short. Off at one side there was movement among the small bushes. A quick sibilant whisper froze Jak in his tracks. Jon raised his gun, his eyes searching quickly. Then two quick shots ... and a threshing in the underbrush. Soon stillness--and the two boys advanced cautiously, both with their guns at the ready. In the bushes they found what Jon had shot--two small tripeds somewhat resembling large jack rabbits.

"Hah, these should be good eating." Jon was in transports as he picked them up, examining them carefully.

"Should be tender, at least, if the flesh is suitable to us." Jak was excited, too. "There's enough for a good meal."

Jon took a piece of cord from his coverall pocket and tied the hind legs together, then slung them over his shoulder. "Let's keep going."

Jak continued finding new and different plants, and Jon kept on guard. Once they saw one of the huge tripeds in the distance, and stopped instantly, being very quiet as they slipped behind the boles of large trees, from which they peered out cautiously. But apparently the great beast had not heard, seen nor smelled them--it finally wandered away--grazing.

"Well, I'll be a tadpole!" Jon exclaimed. "A grass-eater."

But Jak was not so sure. "Lots of meat-eaters also eat a little grass. Those teeth didn't look like the ones of a herbivore. I think I'll keep away from them, anyway."

"You and me both!" Jon was agreeable to the idea.

At last, after nearly two hours, the two boys came to the banks of the stream, which was about a quarter mile wide at this point, and seemed not too deep, at least near the shore. Now it was Jon's turn to become the most excited. He ran to the edge and peered into the shallow depths, then called out delightedly at seeing dozens of darting forms of some type of marine life in the clear waters.

"You watch while I fish," he commanded, dropping his gun and the two hare-like creatures. He took the carrying case from his shoulder, opened it and in moments had his rod, reel and line ready.

"Yippee!" he yelled as he got an immediate strike on his first cast. With true fisherman's skill, he played the now fighting, swiftly darting denizen of the river. Carefully he reeled in his catch, giving line when the fish ran or plunged, reeling in when he felt the least bit of slack, exerting only enough pressure to force the fish-thing in toward him without losing it.

Soon the wriggling creature was in shallow water, and Jon waded out with his landing net. A quick, darting movement with hand and net, and he had his first catch.

He took it carefully from the net and held it aloft, examining and admiring it, while Jak danced about on the shore near him, uttering shrill yelps of triumph.

They could see that Jon's catch was streamlined almost like a trout or barracuda. It was nearly fifteen inches long, and very slender. There seemed to be no scales--the skin was more like that of an eel or bullhead.

"Fish or snake?" Jak asked.

"Don't know for sure." Jon was still studying it. "Think it's a fish, all right, but it hasn't any fins, and swims with the same wriggles a snake uses. I think it's more eel than snake, though, and I'm quite sure it'll be good eating."

The mouth was large and ran back almost three and a half inches. When Jon pried it open to remove his hook he saw there was a triple row of needle-sharp teeth, so quickly took a pair of pliers from his tool belt, and used these to remove the deeply swallowed hook.

The eel-fish freed, he dropped it into his creel, then cast again. It was apparent these water denizens were unused to lures, for hardly had his spinner touched the surface of the water than he had another strike.

As swiftly as he could reel in and remove one from his hook and cast again, Jon brought in fish after fish. All this time Jak was dancing about, now as excited as his brother at this prospect of fresh food to replace for the time the nourishing but hardly-delectable concentrates and frozen foods on which they had been living for so long.

But when Jon finally was satisfied with the size of his catch, he found that leaving the river was not to be a simple matter of wading ashore. So intent had he been on his fun he had not noticed that his feet were sinking further and further into the bottom.

Only now, as he tried to return to shore, did he find he could not lift his feet. They were firmly embedded in the sand or muck, more than halfway to his knees.

For a long moment he struggled to pull first one foot and then the other from the clinging stuff. Then he realized he must be in a sort of quicksand, and he began to panic.

"Quick, Jak, come help me! I'm caught."

But almost instantly he countermanded that sharply. "No! Stay back. The bottom here's quicksand or something."

Jak had come running at Jon's first cry. At this warning, though, he slid to a halt just short of the water. "How can I help?" he cried anxiously.

"Catch these first." And Jon threw first his rod, then his creel filled with fish.

Jak caught each and tossed them farther back onto the bank. He then looked quickly about, and spied a long, fallen branch at some little distance. He called to his brother, who was still trying desperately to free himself, "Hang on a minute. I'll be right back."

Racing for the branch, he picked it up and brought it back to the water's edge. But when he extended it toward Jon, it was too short by several feet, even though both leaned forward. Jak would have gone into the water with it, but Jon would not let him.

"We'll have to try something else, then." Jak was getting really worried now, for he could see that the water was up to Jon's waist.

"You'll have to make it snappy," Jon spoke as calmly as he could. "I'm sinking deeper all the time."

Again Jak searched swiftly and purposefully about him. He saw something he thought might help and ran swiftly toward one of the smaller trees. With difficulty, because of the scarcity of limbs, he climbed this and soon was hacking, with his machete-like knife, at the long, slender liana or climbing vine that hung downward from it. It took only a few moments to sever the top end, then Jak slid down the trunk and traced the vine to its root, cutting it there. With this long section he ran back to the water's edge.

"Catch," he yelled--but it took several attempts before he could get the unwieldy vine-end near enough for Jon to grasp.

Jak dug his heels into the ground and started pulling. His face grew red, cords stood out in his neck, and his muscles bulged. But quickly the strain proved too great for him. Since he was the lighter and weaker he was being pulled toward the water, rather than freeing his embedded brother.

"I ... can't ... do it," Jak panted, his strength gone, his muscles and limbs aching and trembling.

"Tie your end around a tree. I'll try to work myself out."

Jak did so, and the muscles on Jon's more powerful arms, back and shoulders stood out in ridges as he threw all his splendid young strength into this climactic effort. He pulled, he wriggled about from side to side.

Slow, heartbreaking moments passed as the tug of war continued. Inch by hard-fought inch Jon was withdrawing his imprisoned legs from the sucking, gripping stuff that was so determined not to yield its victim.

But he was still only a boy, and he had neither the strength nor the endurance to continue for long this tremendous struggle. Slowly his efforts grew weaker and less successful. The sand began reclaiming that which it had lost. Before long Jon sank back, and the strain on the vine relaxed.

"Can't ... make it. You've been a great brother...." He tried to smile. "Take care of Mom and Pop ... and break it to them gently."

"Shut up, you dope," Jak yelled, but there was a catch in his voice. "We're not licked yet!"

Desperately his mind raced. He must think of some more effective mode of leverage. If only he knew how to handle the ship! He could bring that here, and with the loading winch in the lock drag his brother loose. But that was out--he didn't know how to handle it.

He thought of going after his mother, but realized quickly that before he got her and brought her back, Jon would be gone.

No, it was strictly up to him--and time was swiftly running out.

5

Jak Carver's eyes searched the edge of the jungle feverishly for any idea--for some means of rescuing his younger brother, embedded in the quicksand of the stream there.

Suddenly he spied a slim but stout-looking tree close to the water's edge ... and a trick the two boys had often played with a small tree in their back yard at home sprang into his mind.

"Got an idea, Jon. Slack off a minute."

For Jon had been trying again and again, as he felt a momentary return of part of his strength, to pull himself free. He had, by this means, barely managed to keep from sinking further, but that was all.

Now, with a quick twist, Jak unfastened the end of the liana from the tree to which he had tied it. "Tie your end about you, just under the arms," he called. Then, placing his end of the vine in his mouth and gripping it firmly with his teeth, he started climbing that slim tree. It was about seven inches in diameter at the base, and some forty to forty-five feet tall.

His brother instantly recognized what he had in mind. So, as Jak climbed, Jon made sure his end was securely fastened about him. Then he grasped the vine firmly with both hands, a few inches in front of his chest.

As Jak climbed ever higher into the tree, the slender sapling bent beneath his weight. He still climbed, but carefully now, on the side nearest the water, so the treetop would bend in that direction. The higher he climbed the tree, the more his weight made it curve downward, so that toward the last, his back was almost parallel to the ground.

Holding with his legs wrapped about the trunk, when he was almost three-quarters of the way up, Jak fastened his end of the liana tautly in place. This was extremely difficult because of his unnatural position, as well as the stiffness of the vine and his having to work with one hand. But without wasting time, he took pains to make sure the knot was tight and secure.

Then he started climbing again, further and further toward the slender top of the now bent tree. But carefully, lest his weight and the bending splinter or snap the treetop as it bent still further.

"Get tight, Jon. Be ready for the yank when I let go."

"All set and line tight. Yell when you drop."

Glancing down to see that the way was clear below him, Jak let his legs go and swung by his arms until he was hanging clear. He yelled sharply and let go--plunging down the fifteen or eighteen feet to the ground.

Disregarding the shock, he scrambled up, and peered closely at the tree, then the vine, then at Jon. The tree was straining to pull back into its accustomed erectness. The liana was taut--but bits of its bark were flecking off. It creaked so alarmingly Jak was afraid it would break.

All the time Jon was wriggling and twisting to help free his feet and legs. And the vine held, as the tree proved its natural strength and desire for an upright position. Slowly but surely Jon's body was pulled from its prison. As he came more nearly free the tree snapped upright so swiftly he was whipped out of the water and a dozen feet onto the sand. He landed, face down, with a terrific jar.

Jak ran up and helped untie the vine. Jon sat up slowly with his brother's help. His face was scuffed where it had slid along the sandy beach, and he slowly, painfully wiped it somewhat clean with his handkerchief. His breath came in gasps from the terrible constriction of the vine about his chest, and from his unusual exertions.

Sympathetically, Jak hovered about until finally Jon's breathing was a bit easier. When his brother started to try to get up, he helped and held him.

"Guess I can make it now." Jon finally broke away and did manage to stand alone, although he still reeled a bit from the fatigue and the terrible ordeal through which he had been.

He walked slowly about, rolling his shoulders and moving his arms and fingers, exercising his cramped muscles. Jak gave him a couple of anti-fatigue pills from his pocket first-aid kit, and Jon swallowed these. Finally, he began collecting his rod and creel.

"They'd danged well better be good to eat," he declared, shaking the offending fish basket.

"It certainly wasn't worth all that narrow escape," Jak said soberly as he took the things from his brother and went over to pick up the little animal carcasses. But when he got there he exclaimed in disgust, "Darn, those ants have eaten them almost all up!"

"We mustn't let Mom know how close I came to not getting back," Jon said as he staggered along the little trail, although as he went his strength and limberness returned somewhat.

"I'll say not. I'll keep my trap shut. One thing's sure, though. There'll be no more fishing trips here."

"Aw, I wouldn't say that," Jon snapped back. "I know enough now to stay on the bank. And if these are good eating, it's too easy a way to get fresh food to waste."

They were just climbing into the lock when again that sudden heavy downpour of rain began.

Jon grinned as he opened the inner door. "Glad to see the rain this time. It'll keep Mom from wondering why my clothes are so wet."

As soon as they had changed to dry clothing, Jon went to clean his "fish," then took them to his mother in the galley. Jak, meanwhile, was in the control room, rearranging and trying to begin the classification of his plant specimens.

When their mother called them to table, the boys sniffed appreciatively at the delicious odor of the nicely browned fish-things.

"They cook nicely, but how do we tell if they're good to eat?" Mrs. Carver asked.

Jak flipped one onto his plate and cut off a tiny portion. "Tell you soon." And he forked the piece into his mouth. With his tongue and teeth he tested it, but did not swallow. "Tastes good," he said a moment later, retrieving the piece with his fork and laying it on the side of his plate. "One more test."

He cut off another small piece and took it into the storeroom, where he placed a piece in one of the cages containing half a dozen white rats. A couple of them came up immediately, smelled the food, then one of them gobbled it up. Jak watched anxiously for a moment, then gave another rat a piece. It, too, gobbled it up, and then joined the rest who were pressed against the wires begging for more. Jak stood watching for one minute, then two, then three. Satisfied that the meat had done the rodents no harm, he returned to the table.

"It's all right," he said and began eating. "The rats liked it and it didn't seem to hurt them."

The others pitched in then, and soon the entire platterful was reduced to a pile of bones on the three plates.

"How's Father been today," Jak asked. "He was asleep when I glanced at him after getting back."

"He moved about several times, tossing and groaning a bit, and seeming to be trying to touch his broken leg, although...."

"Probably it itches inside the cast," Jak said.

"He didn't regain full consciousness, but I tried spooning some concentrated broth into his mouth, and he was able to swallow a little of it."

"Golly, that's great!" Jak exclaimed in relief. "His drifting out of his coma from time to time shows there is no real damage to his brain, and now he's evidently beginning to come out of the concussion."

"Whatever it is, I feel more sure he'll soon regain consciousness and be all right." Mrs. Carver spoke with quiet confidence.

"Of course he will, Mom. Pop's too tough for a busted leg and a bump on the head to kill him." Jon smiled at her comfortingly.

"As the surface wound heals, the brain tissues beneath will also be healing," Jak said pedantically. "As long as we can keep him fed and otherwise healthy, the concussion will grow less and finally dissipate entirely."

"Doctor Carver, I presume." Jon sniggered, and his brother flushed a bit, then poked him in the ribs.

Jon tried not to wince at that light jab. Luckily their mother had not noticed anything so, as quickly as possible, he said, "Well, Owl, let's hit the sack. Want to move around this planet tomorrow and get our pics and info, then take a look at the others."

Jak started to protest, but caught his brother's almost imperceptible but frantic signal, and changed his words. "Maybe Jon's right at that, and we should get an early start. 'Night, Mother."

"Good night, Boys." She responded to their kisses, and soon the two were in their bunkroom, with the door closed.

Jak turned swiftly on his brother. "What's the big idea, making us go to bed so early, and why that funny look you gave me?"