The Secret of Saturn’s Rings (3 page)

“Besides its normal motion in space, every particle of the moon feels a constant draw from Earth, is made looser from its brothers by this draw. The moon is fragile.

“Astronomers have shown that someday, billions of years from now, the moon will fall closer to the Earth and be tom apart into tiny fragments. These fragments will fly around the Earth and finally form a sort of ring around our world. My figures showed that atomic blasting at the moon’s core would shatter the whole satellite into such fragments now'. The moon would burst apart like a bomb!

“Some bits of this lunar bombshell would hit the Earth, causing great damage. Most of these pieces would continue to fly along the moon’s orbit and form a ring. But the effect would be just as terrible as if they had struck our world.

“With the release of the moon’s pull, the tides would cease and the waters of the world equalize. This will flood great parts of the world’s surface, wipe out hundreds of cities and drown millions. Great quakes will probably destroy the rest as the Earth’s bulk is released from the strain of its satellite and readjusts itself. I would say that probably nine-tenths of humanity would die; certainly civilization would be totally destroyed!”

Bruce gasped. “But surely Terraluna realizes that! They certainly wouldn’t want to risk that. They must have agreed with your discovery!”

Dr. Rhodes shook his head. “They did not. They refused to accept my figures, plain as they were. They are going ahead with the building of the deep-core atomic blaster!”

Bruce was horrified. “But how could they? Why should they do such a thing?”

Dr. Rhodes smiled grimly. “People are sometimes blinded by their own selfishness, Bruce. Terraluna wants to get at that treasure at the moon’s heart. Its directors are not interested in how they get it, they want only the results. When I presented my studies of what would happen, they could not bring themselves to believe it. They called it wild, imaginary, just the product of an old man’s frightened mind. They had some of their scientists, men of my own staff actually, go over the figures. These men sought only for their own advancement, they wanted to keep on the good side of Terraluna’s directors, they felt they could take a chance with Earth’s welfare. So these men made light of my findings, said they were extreme, ridiculed the possibility involved, and denied the discovery.

“I argued and I fought, but after a month I realized that I could not persuade Terraluna to give up this project. Finally, I returned to Earth.

“I went to the United Nations and spoke to the members of their Committee on Scientific Research. They held secret sessions with me, and they had my figures checked by various great scientists of the world. These men did not all agree. Finally, the United Nations authorities told me I would have to present more proof of my beliefs before they would issue orders to Terraluna to quit their deep-core project.”

“But how could you do that?” asked Bruce. “What more could you do?”

“I'm coming to that now,” his father answered. “I showed them that there was one place in our solar system where factual evidence could be obtained. That was on the planet Saturn, which has a ring around it. If that ring could be shown to be the result of the collapse or explosion of a satellite, then my figures would be accepted and Terraluna stopped. Nowhere else could any further facts be obtained to prove my point.

“The UN people went into further argument about that, but the issue is very important and there is so much at stake that they finally agreed to let me try to get that evidence. They agreed to lend me a space ship if I could figure out how to reach Saturn with our present type of space rocket. I knew a way and showed them.

“This ship is the one they lent me. It has been fueled, our course is now worked out, and with you the crew is complete.”

Bruce nodded, then asked, “But then why did Terraluna tell the papers you were a traitor? Aren't they willing to let you find proof? After all, surely they can’t afford to risk the destruction of two worlds?”

The old engineer frowned, stood up. “You know the answer to that. The directors are blind with their own selfishness. They are furious at my interference. They are more determined than ever to go ahead and they are going to try to stop me from ever getting such proof.

“They released their own false story to the press today, to create public hatred toward me. Thus if this ship fails to return or otherwise fails to make its trip, the public will not be angered. They will not care what happens to a ‘traitor’ scientist.

“The second step you yourself stopped. They had managed, with their tremendous prestige and money, to bribe even a member of my crew. Waldron tried to sabotage our ship at the last hour, as you discovered.”

“Will that be the end then?” Bruce asked, getting up and following his father to the open entryway of the ship.

“I am sure it won’t,” said Dr. Rhodes, going down onto the ground. “You can be certain they will try again and again.”

Bruce followed him down and they started off to the charthouse nearby. “We’ll stop them; we’ve got to stop them!”

They walked on. “It won’t be easy,” said his father at last. “They’ll stop at nothing, not even at murder.”

Bruce tightened his lips. “What is the price of five men’s lives, including my own, if the lives of billions of people are at stake?”

Dr. Rhodes looked at his son, liked what he saw. “That’s the way I look at it, son.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got another forty minutes before takeoff. Come on in and meet the rest of our crew.”

As they approached the charthouse, the door popped open and a young fellow came out looking for them. He seemed rather upset, and when he saw Dr. Rhodes approaching, waved to him in relief. “I was just about to look for you,” the man called.

“Something come up?” asked Dr. Rhodes.

The newcomer, Bruce saw, seemed to be in his early twenties. A wide-awake sort of chap, with sparkling dark eyes, and a shock of unruly black hair. Right now, he had grabbed the old engineer by the arm and was saying, “What’s this about Waldron? He just phoned from the airport and says he’s going to call the police. He said something about an attack on him and that he was going to have you all arrested!” “What’s that?” gasped Bruce and his father at the same time. And Bruce added, “He’s lying! Waldron was trying to damage the ship!”

“Yes,” Dr. Rhodes put in. “And he’s still trying to hurt our flight. This is a new trick!”

At this point two other men, overhearing the excited words, came out of the little frame structure that held their charts and the machines by which their space course was being determined. One was a shortish man, with an olive complexion, and looking quite studious; the other tall and lanky, with thin blond hair and the deep-set eyes of an experienced space traveler.

The shorter man seemed alarmed by what he had heard. “If the police come, it will delay our take-off. If we delay beyond our limit, we will have to refigure everything all over again. It will be days before we can make a new start!”

“That's exactly what Waldron’s game is,” said Bruce’s father. “He still hopes to damage our flight. He wants to make us as much trouble as possible.” “What's this all about?” asked the tall blond chap. Bruce's father hastily told them what had happened, that Waldron had evidently been in the pay of Terraluna.

They nodded thoughtfully when he was through. “But then,” said the young fellow they had first met, “we're going to be shorthanded. How can we get a replacement for Waldron in a hurry?”

Dr. Rhodes put a hand on Bruce's shoulder. “My son has volunteered to join us. He’s a bit young, but I think he can do his share.”

The three others looked at Bruce. Then the youngest snorted a bit. “He’s only a kid! How can we take a chance?”

Bruce grew angry. “I’m sixteen and I’ll bet I’m as strong as you are! You just watch me!”

“O.K., O.K.,” said his father hastily, “no arguments now. We haven't the time. I’d better introduce you.” The young chap with the black hair turned out to be Arpad Benz, the other spacehand who would work with Bruce at the general jobs, engine room, manual and other chores aboard ship. He shook hands hesitantly.

The short Latin-appearing man was named Frank Garcia, and he was to be the ship’s astrogator, the navigator of space. He had been an expert charter of astronomical courses for many years on the space lines to Mars and Venus and was considered one of the best.

The tall lanky man was their pilot, Kurt Jennings. He needed no further introduction to Bruce, who had heard of his exploits many times. Jennings was famous. He had pioneered a number of important flights, and had been the first to land on a couple of Jupiter’s moons. Bruce knew his father was fortunate to have Jennings along, because if anybody could pilot this unusual trip, Jennings could.

Jennings said now, “If Waldron has called the police, they may be here in a half-hour. We’ve got to leave then or else we can’t make it.”

Garcia glanced at his watch. “Yes. As a matter of fact we have barely thirty minutes to get in the ship, get it on the rails, and start.”

“Then let’s go!” Dr. Rhodes said. “Hurry!”

Garcia dashed back into the charthouse and emerged a few minutes after with his arms loaded with lists and notebooks containing the figures for their course. Fie took these to the ship himself, to set up on the racks in the control room.

Jennings, Arpad and Bruce got aboard a little hand truck that stood nearby, drove rapidly down to the bunkhouse behind the chart structure and stopped. There the three of them rushed inside, grabbed the suitcases that had been packed that morning and other odds and ends not already aboard the ship. These they slammed on the truck and raced back to the ship.

Dr. Rhodes and Garcia were already inside. The truck that had been adding the last of their fuel had already backed off and started away.

Arpad and Bruce unloaded and rushed the stuff aboard ship. Bruce had some idea of the layout from his first visit. This helped to confirm his impressions.

In the rear of the long bullet-shaped craft were the rocket tubes, the fuel tanks, the engines, and other machinery, all except the tiny engine room, sealed off from the rest of the ship by sheets of special plastic that would not permit the passage of atomic rays. It was this plastic, which had been developed fifty years before, which alone permitted the use of atomic energy in such closed quarters as a space ship.

Along the center of the ship, above the engines, ran a narrow corridor. Along this corridor, on either side, were the tiny storage cabins, kitchen, sleeping quarters, and the airlock entrance.

At the end of the corridor, occupying the entire nose of the ship, was the control room. Two padded seats before the transparent nose were the places where the pilot and his relief would sit. Another similar chair just behind them for the astrogator, who sat before a panel of calculators built into the side.

Jennings and Dr. Rhodes were already in the first two seats. Dr. Rhodes was speaking on the communicator to the port crew outside, who were getting ready to haul the entire ship into place on the launching rack.

Garcia slid into his place. Arpad and Bruce got the last of the stuff loaded, and shut and sealed the airlock door.

Arpad motioned to Bruce. “You and I had better get ourselves into our launching hammocks without delay. You take the one on that side,” he pointed, “and I’ll take this one. Come along, I’ll show you.”

He hurried Bruce into the cabin nearest the airlock. There he lowered a deep padded hammock connected firmly from the sides of the small cabin.

“I know,” said Bruce, not wanting Arpad to think him completely unfamiliar. “I made a vacation trip to the moon several years ago. I can handle this. You better hurry yourself.”

Arpad nodded. “O.K. Don’t forget to strap yourself in.” He left on the run.

Bruce climbed into the hammock, pulled the straps about him. He saw that he faced a window by his side, and turning his head, he got a fairly good view of what was going on.

The ship had been resting on a sort of wide flatcar which was now being hooked up to a couple of squat atomic-engined land tugs. These huge tractor-like vehicles, once attached, then began to roll the space ship toward the mountain’s base.

The ship vibrated gently as the wheels of the car turned. Finally it reached the beginning of the rack.

Running up the side of the mountain, a huge peak, was a long track that was straight as an arrow. Great metal hoops ringed it in to make it a sort of skeleton tunnel bending upward until the top of it pointed directly into the sky like the barrel of some huge gun.

The flatcar jolted up against the end of the track. The land tugs now puffed around to each side of the ship and by means of huge buffer arms shoved the long space rocket off the wheeled base and into the level end of the launching rack.

Bruce could see most of this operation from his side porthole, through the thick unbreakable glassine substance that composed it. He knew what was going on and could imagine what he could not see.

The land tugs chugged away. Up front, Garcia called out, on the ship’s internal phone system, “One minute more. Check your belts. Relax.”

The phone system was left open. Bruce could hear their voices. Jennings was checking off the control-board readings with Dr. Rhodes. Then Dr. Rhodes said, “There’s a car back at the charthouse coming our way. I see someone standing up in it waving at us.”

“Yes,” Jennings’ voice said. “Looks like a police car. Probably want us to hold our take-off.”

“Don’t pay any attention, chief,” said Garcia anxiously. “We’ve got thirty seconds.”

‘Ignore them,” said Dr. Rhodes brusquely. “Twenty-five seconds.”

They bent to their work. Bruce thought he heard the faint sound of a siren in the distance. He imagined the police rushing to the end of the launching rack trying to prevent the take-off.

The time passed interminably now, with Garcia again calling off the seconds. Then finally came the five-second call, then four, three, two, one, off!

The ship vibrated easily. At that instant, Jennings had thrown in the first jet, a small thrust capable only of moving the ship a little along the tracks. This was enough to start the automatic magnetic reaction.