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Planet Mappers

<h2>4</h2> At breakfast the next morning Jon suddenly stopped eating. "Say, as we were coming down, did you notice a small river or creek just over there to the right? I was pretty busy at the time, but seem to remember something of the sort." "Yes, there was one near, but don't know just how far. Why?" The boy grinned. "If there's a stream, there're probably fish. I was thinking we could get some fresh supplies that way." "You and your fishing! Don't you ever think of anything else?" "Sure I do, but I notice you always eat your share when I catch any and Mom cooks 'em." Their mother said quickly, "Some fresh fish would taste good, Boys. If you have time and can catch any, I know we would all appreciate them." "Look, Jak, you want to explore some more of that jungle, and I want to see if there's any of that stuff Pop was looking for, near here. We can just as well do both while working toward that creek, and I can take my rod along. But first, we've got to set up our marker here in the clearing." "That's right, I'd almost forgotten your telling us about that. And we don't want to stay too long, either. Didn't you say we have to place one on each planet in order to prove our claim as original discovers?" "Yes, and one in an orbit about the sun, too." Jon pushed back his chair and rose. "I'll go get one from the storeroom." "I'll get my specimen cases ready, and see to the guns." Jak, too, rose, then forestalled his mother by turning to her, "I'll feed Father first, and we'll be careful outside. You can call us back with the new siren Jon installed, if you need us." "All right, Boys." She smiled at them. "Mr. C. seemed to rest well last night, although I do wish he would regain full consciousness. I've plenty of housekeeping to keep busy while you're gone. Really should do some washing, but that doesn't take long. Just don't stay out too late." "We won't," they both assured her. "We'll be back long before dark." The marker which Jon fetched from the storeroom and placed near the inner lockdoor, ready to take outside and set up, was one developed by the scientists and technies of Terra for just such use. 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. <hr class="chap" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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