"Doe Kingsley, out on Pluto, has been fooling around with cosmics," said Herb. "Maybe he'll turn the trick in another year of two.”
"Doe Kingsley has been fooling around with a lot of things out there," said Gary. "If the man would only talk, we'd have more than one story to send back from Pluto.”
The dynamos had settled into a steady hum of power. Gary glanced at the dials and reached out his fingers. He wrote:
EVENING ROCKET. EARTH. WILL CONTACT EVANS AT ONCE IF STILL ON PLUTO. IF NOT WILL SEND STORY ON FLIGHT. NOTHING TO REPORT OUT HERE. WEATHER FINE. HERB DROPPED OUR LAST QUART AND BROKE IT. HOW ABOUT A RAISE.
"That last," he said, "will get 'em.”
"You didn't have to put that in about the Scotch," Herb declared. "It just slipped out of my fingers.”
"Sure," said Gary. "It just slipped out of your fingers. Right smack-dab onto a steel plate and busted all to hell. After this, I handle the liquor.
When you want a drink, you ask me.”
"Maybe Kingsley will have some liquor," Herb said hopefully. "Maybe he'll lend us a bottle.”
"If he does," declared Gary, "you keep your paws off of it. Between you sucking away at it and dropping it, I don't get more than a drink or two out of each bottle. We still got Uranus and Neptune to do after Pluto and it looks like a long dry spell.”
He got up and walked to the fore part of the ship, gazing out through the vision plate.
"Only Neptune and Uranus ahead," he said. "And that's enough. If the Old Man ever thinks up any more screwball stunts, he can find someone else to do them. When I get back I'm going to ask him to give me back my old beat at the space terminal and I'm going to settle down there for the rest of my natural life. I'm going to watch the ships come in and take off and I'm going to get down on my hands and knees and kiss the ground each time and be thankful I'm not on them.”
"He's paying us good dough," said Herb. "We got bank accounts piling up back home.”
Gary pretended not to hear him.
"Know Your Solar System," he said. "Special articles run every Sunday in the Evening Rocket. Story by Leary Nelson. Pictures by Herbert Harper.
Intrepid newsmen brave perils of space to bring back true picture of the solar system's planets. One year alone in a spaceship, bringing to the readers of the Rocket a detailed account of life in space, of life on the planets. Remember how the promotion gang busted a gut advertising us. Full page ads and everything.”
He spat.
"Stuff for kids," he said.
"The kids probably think we're heroes," said Herb. "Probably they read our stuff and then pester the folks to buy them a spaceship. Want to go out and see Saturn for themselves.”
"The Old Man said it would boost circulation," declared Gary. "Hell, he'd commit suicide if he thought it would boost circulation. Remember what he told us. Says he:
'Go out and visit all the planets. Get first-hand information and pictures.
Shoot them back to us. We'll run them every Sunday in the magazine section.' Just like he was sending us around the corner to cover a fire.
That's all there was to it. Just a little over a year out in space. Living in a spaceship and a spacesuit. Hurry through Jupiter's moons to get out to Saturn and then take it on the lam for Pluto. Soft job. Nice vacation for you. That's what the Old Man said. Nice soft vacation, he said.”
His pipe gurgled threateningly and he knocked it out viciously against the heel of his hand.
"Well," said Herb, "we're almost to Pluto. A few days more and we'll be there. They got a fuelling station and a radio and Doc Kingsley's laboratories out there. Maybe we can promote us a poker game.”
Gary walked to the telescopic screen and switched it on.
"Let's take a look at her," he said.
The great circular screen glowed softly. Within it swam the image of Pluto, still almost half a billion miles away. A dead planet that shone dully in the faint light of the far distant Sun. A planet locked in the frigid grip of naked space, a planet that had been dead long before the first stirring of life had taken place on Earth.
The vision was blurred and Gary manipulated dials to bring it more sharply into focus.
"Wait a second," snapped Herb. His lingers reached out and grasped Gary's wrist.
"Turn it back a ways," he said. "I saw something out there. Something that looked like a ship. Maybe it's Evans coming back.”
Slowly Gary twisted the dial back. A tiny spot of light danced indistinctly on the screen.
"That's it," breathed Herb. "Easy now. Just a little more.”
The spot of light leaped into sharper focus. But it was merely a spot of light, nothing more, a tiny, shining thing in space. Some metallic body that was catching and reflecting the light of the Sun.
"Give it more power," said Herb.
Swiftly the spot of light grew, assumed definite shape. Gary stepped the magnification up until the thing filled the entire screen.
It was a ship — and yet it couldn't be a ship.
"It has no rocket tubes," said Herb in amazement. "Without tubes how could it get off the ground? You can't use geosectors in taking off. They twist space all to hell and gone. They'd turn a planet inside out.”
Gary studied it. "It doesn't seem to be moving," he said. "Maybe some motion, but not enough to detect.”
"A derelict," suggested Herb.
Gary shook his head. "Still doesn't explain the lack of tubes," he said.
The two men lifted their eyes from the screen and looked at one another.
"The Old Man said we were to hurry to Pluto," Herb reminded Gary.
Gary wheeled about and strode back to the controls. He lowered his gangling frame into the pilot's chair and disconnected the robot control. His lingers reached out, switched off the geosectors, pumped fuel into the rocket chambers.
"Find something to hang onto," he said, grimly. "We're stopping to see what this is all about.”
Chapter Two
The mysterious space-shell was only a few miles distant. With Herb at the controls, the Space Pup cruised in an ever-tightening circle around the glinting thing that hung there just off Pluto's orbit.
It was a spaceship. Of that there could be no doubt despite the fact that it had no rocket tubes. It was hanging motionless. There was no throb of power within it, no apparent life, although dim light glowed through the vision ports in what probably were the living quarters just back of the control room.
Gary crouched in the airlock of the Space Pup, with the outer valve swung back. He made sure that his pistols were securely in their holsters and cautiously tested the spacesuit's miniature propulsion units.
He spoke into his helmet mike.
"All right, Herb," he said, "I'm going. Try to tighten up the circle a bit.
Keep a close watch. That thing out there may be dynamite.”
"Keep your nose clean," said Herb's voice in the phones. Gary straightened and pushed himself out from the lock.
He floated smoothly in space, in a gulf of nothing, a place without direction, without an up or down, an unsubstantial place with the fiery eyes of distant stars ringing him around.
His steel-gloved hand dropped to the propulsion mechanism that encircled his waist. Midget rocket tubes flared with tiny flashes of blue power and he was jerked forward, heading for the mystery ship. Veering too far to the right, he gave the right tube a little more fuel and straightened out.
Steadily, under the surging power of the spacesuit tubes, he forged ahead through space toward the ship. He saw the gleaming lights of the Space Pup slowly circle in front of him and then pass out of sight.
A quarter of a mile away, he shut off the tubes and glided slowly in to the drifting shell. He struck its pitted side with the soles of his magnetic boots and stood upright.