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Planet Mappers

<h2>10</h2> With the various members of the Carver family busy with their studies and chores, it did not seem long before they came close to Planet Two, and Jon laid down his reelbooks to begin preparing for the landing. He had started down through the atmosphere when Jak suddenly roused. "Why don't we circle around a bit and look for our townsite from the air?" "I was going to," Jon said with a disarming grin. "Just wanted to get close enough to see well before I called you in to help me decide." At about five miles above the surface he leveled off and began circumnavigating the globe. He headed in the direction which—he remembered from their previous visit—would soonest bring them near the great ocean, but zigzagged from north to south as they proceeded eastward. "Watch for rivers," he said. "A fairly large one that empties into the ocean." They were about halfway between the north pole and the equator, as they had already decided the climate in that latitude would probably be the most suitably average. In a few minutes of traveling they saw ahead a plain that looked to be just what they wanted. Quickly Jon maneuvered the ship downward and soon landed. They were just a few miles from the edge of the great ocean, at the mouth of a large river of considerable width and length, and not far from an extensive forest to the south, and a range of considerable mountains to the west. "Hope the soil here is good," Jon commented as he locked the controls in neutral. "Everything else seems perfect." "The spec-anal shows minerals fairly close, in those hills to the west." Jak was eagerly peering from the port. "I know—that's why I chose this spot. Nice flat land here; good river; close to the ocean, mountains less than a hundred miles away, and not too high. Ideal place, I'd say. "That it is; that it is. Going out today?" "Why not? Nearly four hours till sundown. We can start planning today, then get busy in the morning." Their mother came in just then. "I thought it felt like we had landed. What are you going to do here?" She glanced out of the port. "We have to lay out a townsite," Jon answered, and at her astonished look he explained. She shook her head admiringly and with surprise. "You boys continually amaze me—you seem able to do anything." Jon shrugged that off. "When a thing has to be done, a fellow usually can figure out some way of doing it." "Besides," Jak grinned, "we're like those old chaps on Terra who used to say, 'The difficult we do immediately, the impossible takes a little longer.'" They left her then and hurried out of the ship. Even though they felt there could be no possible danger here—they could see for miles in every direction, and noticed nothing moving—they were wise enough from experience to carry their rifles slung across their backs, and wore bandoliers of ammunition. In addition, both carried tools and what equipment they felt might be needed. Once outside, they ran first to the river, and tested the water. It was fresh and clear, and they knew this would be a good source of water for their proposed city ... until men might pollute it with their garbage and wastes. "Got your pedometer?" Jak asked. "Sure, right here in my coverall pocket. Why?" "I suggest this would be a good place for the center of the town's north side...." "Yes, here by the riverbank would...." "I'll go east and you go west a half mile each, then we'll set our corner stakes." "Then we'll both walk south a mile and set those, and have the four corners done. Sometimes, Owl, I have to give you credit for having brains." "Wish I could say the same about you." Jak reached out and gave his brother a friendly shove. "Get going, Stupe. And when we start south, be sure you keep your line straight." "Look who's yelping. Mine'll be as plumb as yours—probably more so, because I'm a better plumber than you are." Jon started his pacing, while Jak went in the opposite direction after a pretended "grrr" at Jon's horrible pun. When they returned to the ship, as the sun was going down, they felt they had made a good beginning. But as they went into the control room to talk alone, away from their mother's hearing—lest they worry her—they were not too cheerful. "You know anything about surveying?" Jak slumped into a seat. "Nope, not a sardine's worth." Jon paced forth and back in the little room. "That's what has me worried. How're we going to place those other marking stakes in exactly the right spots." "Guess we'll have to measure them some other way." "How?" "Darned if I know. You're the mechanically—minded one—I thought you could figure it out." Jon continued his pacing, his young forehead creased with thought. Finally, just as their mother called them to dinner, he looked up excitedly. "Hey, it'll be easy, after all!" "How?" Jak was as excited as his brother as they went in to the living quarters and sat down at the table. "A light plastic line that won't stretch, exactly measured, and fastened to two metal pin-stakes. We'll make two sets, and...." "I get it. One the length of the blocks, the other the width of the streets." "Right. Stick a pin in the ground, measure out the line, then plant one of our regular stakes." "Then give a yank, pull the pin out and haul it in. Then use the other set to measure the street...." "Yes, just keep going. Hey, I believe with that system we could each work alone, so I'll make two sets." Jak thought all this over swiftly for several minutes, working fork and knife and jaws meanwhile. Finally, between mouthfuls, he said slowly, "I can't see a flaw in it—as long as we're mighty careful. Do you think it'll pass inspection?" "If we take our time and make sure we're right, I don't see why not." "What're you boys talking about now?" Their mother set a refilled dish of steaming Chlorella stew on the table, and resumed her own seat. They explained, and told her the necessity of what they had to do in order to prove up their father's claim on this system, when they returned to Terra and appeared before the Colonial Board with their proofs of prime discovery. The worried look came back into her eyes. "I always understood that surveying was a mighty exact profession. Do you really think you can measure it exactly enough to take the place of a regular survey?" "I think we can make it close enough so that when Pop wakes up and shows us how to do the final survey with the instruments, we can save a lot of time, at least," Jon assured her. "That's what we're thinking and planning about now." "You see, Mother," Jak broke in, "if we have the stakes all set, all we'll have to do is to make the sights on each one, after Father teaches us how to use the transit. Then, if we should be off anywhere, we can fix them easily." "Yes, it'll cut down the time a lot," Jon went on, "and now we're so near done, I want to get everything finished so we can go back to Terra immejit." "Why? Getting homesick?" his mother teased. "Not so much that, but we want to get our claim before the Board. Anything can happen when such distances and time are concerned...." "And we just don't want anything to spoil Father's chances of having this valuable claim verified." "I see." She smiled now in relief, and again her eyes showed the pride she felt in her two manly boys who were daily proving themselves more than equal to the unusual situations in which they found themselves. "Your father woke up again while you were out, and...." "He did?" It was a duet of happy excitement. "... and while he still didn't seem to realize what had happened, he acted even more as though he recognized me. He let me feed him some broth, then went back to sleep again very contentedly." "Golly, that's great!" Jon reached out and patted her hand. The three chatted together with more freedom and animation than they had known since the terrible accident first occurred. It seemed as though their worst troubles were over. For Tad Carver was so reliable, so confident in himself, so trust-inspiring—even beyond their natural love for him—that they felt everything would just have to work out right, once he was again in command. As soon as they had finished eating, the boys hurried to the storeroom and found some metal rods. "Cut me four lengths about fifteen inches each," Jon ordered as he went to the workbench. He cleared a space, then began getting the tools he wanted, and hooking up the induction furnace. "You'll need eight for two full sets, won't you?" "I got to thinking we'd better make only one set for now. If it works out all OK, then we can make the other." By the time Jak had the pieces cut, Jon was ready to heat one end of each in the furnace, then bend it into a small eye. The other end he sharpened on the emery wheel. "Now measure out pieces of that plastic rope," he ordered, pointing to a reel of small-diametered but very strong line. "Figure about six inches extra on each...." "Look, Chum, you tend to your job and give me credit for brains enough to know that much." Jak's tone was almost cross, for sometimes this younger brother got on his nerves, since Jon did occasionally get quite "bossy." But the elder quickly subdued that feeling—helped by the surprised and somewhat hurt look in Jon's eyes. He knew so well that Jon was merely trying—as he himself was learning to do—to see that neither made any mistakes in this important work they were attempting to do in their father's absence. Father was always cautioning them to take pains with whatever they were doing, and they usually accepted his warning and advice—as they did their mother's—without any more grumbling than boys ordinarily make about such "fussing." But now each of them—and both of them together—had to be, and did try to be, extra painstaking in all the things their father would have cautioned them about, and they checked and rechecked each other constantly. So Jak said nothing more, and quietly helped Jon complete the stakes-and-line sets. After all, he admitted honestly, there were undoubtedly times when he got just as "bossy" as Jon did. Soon the two sets of pins and line were done. Each of the boys measured each once—twice—to make doubly sure their work was right. Then they cut up and sharpened a number of wooden stakes from some inch-by-inch strips they found in the storeroom. The next morning they started out early. Each carried a bundle of the marking stakes, and Jon had a small sledge in one hand. In addition, they had their rifles slung across their backs. "Working together to begin with," Jon said at breakfast, "we can start the eastward leg from the southwest corner, and run it a ways, then come back and start the northward one from this same corner." "Yes, if we get that first corner square and right, there's less chance of the other three being wrong—they'll more or less check themselves." They soon found they could work at quite a swift pace, and at lunch time Jon cried, "At this rate we'll have time to go back and re-check everything, and still get done within our two weeks." "Yes, if we don't run into any trouble, this seems to be working out fine. Much better than I'd have given you credit for being able to figure out, Chubby." "Catfish to you, Brother!" Jon grinned. "Hey, that reminds me. I want to see if that river's got any fish in it—and no...." He caught himself and stopped, but Jak knew what he meant. Their mother still didn't know about that quicksand Jon had been almost trapped in, and they didn't want her to learn of it. "I suppose it would be worth knowing," Jak had hastened to say, almost as if interrupting. "For once your eternal love of fishing will have its good points—as well as getting us fresh food. What about the ocean?" "I'll try that, too, if I have time. Surf-fishing won't tell us too much about the deeper sea, and I haven't any heavy tackle for anything very big if we happen to run into it. But probably, close to shore like I'll have to fish, we wouldn't catch anything my lines and hooks won't handle." "If you can handle 'em," Jak said with a grin. "Don't you worry about me," Jon retorted. "I can pull in anything I can get my hook on." "Except a sunken ship," Jak jibed, and Jon's face grew red. That incident, when he and his father had been fishing off the coast of Southern California, back in Terra's Pacific Ocean, was still a tender subject with him. He had had to cut his line that time, because they could not loosen his hooks, and he had lost a favorite spinner and leader and half his best line. That first week passed uneventfully. The boys worked hard, from shortly after sunup to almost sundown. So hard, in fact, that their mother finally protested after noticing that they were so weary that they slumped in their chairs at the table and could hardly eat each evening when they returned to the ship. "Now you boys listen to your mother," she commanded one night at dinner. "I'm just as anxious to get back to Earth as you are, but there's no sense killing yourselves to save a day or two. From now on, you are to start an hour later, and quit an hour earlier." Jak managed a weak grin. "Guess you're right, Mother. But we are coming along fine." "Sure, we've almost completed outlining the site. We'll have to take tomorrow off anyway, to go to the forest out there and cut some more stakes," Jon added. "It'll make a nice vacation. I'm really fed up with so much sameness of hard work." "Yes, it's been a steady grind, no fooling, but we wanted to get it done as quick as we can, so Pop can check it." For their father had been waking up several times every day, their mother reported. True, he had only been conscious for short periods, and was still too weak to be bothered with any of their problems. But, she told the boys, he was able to eat something each time he awoke, and his mind was clear again. She was preparing easily eaten and digested foods that would bring back his strength quickly. Jak asked anxiously whether his father had mentioned how the leg felt, and Mrs. Carver told him, "He says it doesn't pain any, although sometimes it itches beneath the cast." Later on, just as they finished eating, Jak suggested, "Take your tackle along tomorrow, Chubby, and we'll chop where the woods meet the river." "Why, t'anks, pal, you're a good kid." Jon made a fake pass at his brother, who jumped up from the table and yanked the other's chair backward, starting a small scuffle which their mother wisely did not try to stop, knowing that, tired as they were, it would last only a few seconds and would be good for them. <hr class="tb" /> When the boys returned from their expedition the next night, with arms and backs loaded with bundles of stakes, and Jon's creel well-filled with Two's fish-things, she met them anxiously at the lockdoor. "Did you boys hear or see the ship that passed over us this morning?" "Ship?" "No, we didn't see nor hear a thing. Sure it was a ship?" "No, I didn't see it, either. I thought I heard one, and ran to look out, but couldn't locate anything. Maybe it was just my imagination." "Spaceship or airship?" Jon asked. "I couldn't tell you that, either, except that if I did really hear one, it must have been a spaceship to disappear so quickly." "Unless it was a fast jet—they're just as hard to spot." They discussed the affair for some time, but could come to no conclusions. If it was a ship, why hadn't it stopped or signalled? And if it wasn't one, what had she heard? Or had she actually heard anything? Two evenings later the two boys had completed outlining their city site, and were just climbing into the Star Rover when they heard their mother's voice. "That you, boys? Come in here. Hurry!" At the urgency in her voice, they ran quickly and found her sitting at the side of their father's bunk. As they got closer they saw his head turn toward them, and recognition in the wide-open eyes. "Hello, fellows!" His voice was weak but happy. "Father!" "Oh, Pop, you're awake at last!" The two almost fought to be closest to him, but their mother moved a little and both sank to their haunches beside the bunk, each with one of their father's somewhat emaciated hands in theirs. "Your mother tells me I've been sick quite a long time, and that you chaps have been carrying on. I'm grateful, and proud." "You should see the way Mom has caught on to doing things," Jon said quickly. "She does almost all our photographing now." "And Jon has developed into a real astrogator," Jak said. "Yes, Pop, but you wouldn't be as well as you are today if it hadn't been for Owl knowing how to set your leg and make a cast for it, and giving you the proper medicines and intravenous feedings." Jon turned to smile at his brother, who grew red in the face and tried to stop the compliments, but the younger boy rushed on. "He's really a whiz as a doctor. Knew exactly what to do for you. How's your leg feel?" "Fine, thanks to you, Jak." "Oh, it wasn't so much—and I didn't know. I had to study a lot to find out...." "Anyway, I'm still alive and that shows you did a fine job." Mr. Carver lifted a weak hand to caress his elder son's face. Then he turned toward Jon. "I've had fine reports of you, too, Son. Your mother says...." "Yes, if anyone deserves praise around here, it's Jon," Jak broke in. "He has done all the piloting and figuring courses, and he even invented a one-man control so he can land and take off without all the trouble and preciseness needed before. Why, he...." "Nix Owl!" Jon was the one to be embarrassed now. "That can wait until Pop's stronger. The main thing is to report now, so he can tell us what to do next." "Where are we—and what has been done so far?" Mr. Carver asked. "Your mother hasn't—or wouldn't—tell me, except that we've reached the new system, and are landed on one of the worlds there." "We're on Planet Two, and we're laying out the city site that the Board requires. This sun has five planets, and Two and Three are perfectly habitable for humans, but no natives above animal level," Jak began. "There're seven moons—one at Two, two at Three, and four at Four," Jon took up the tale. "We've visited all the planets, and have set out the automatic signal-senders, with tapes giving you the credit for the prime discovery." "They named the sun 'Carveria' after you, Mr. C." His wife leaned forward, eyes shining with pride, and an arm across the shoulders of each of the boys. "They named the planets after one of us, each, and the fifth one after the ship, and we've given names to the moons, too." "This world will be swell for people who like it warm, and Three will be just as good for those who prefer colder weather. Both are a lot like Terra at different seasons and sections, and both are rich in soil, water, forests, metals and...." "And we discovered a cache of that new fuel-metal you thought you saw in the spectroscope," Jon broke in, his voice bubbling with eagerness. "Right here on Two. Not a mine or a vein, understand, but a cache, in a metal box buried in the sand. Must have been some people a long, long time ago, because from the sand drifted inside the box it apparently hadn't been touched for thousands of years. And it showed up on Five...." "But it's guarded by some sort of sentient flames," Jak burst in. His father's face lighted up. "Have you tried it yet?" he asked Jon. "No," The boy's face showed disappointment. "Mom wouldn't let me take any chances when I first wanted to, but now I'm glad—it's very highly radioactive still, in spite of who knows how many half-life deteriorations. It might've blown us higher than up. Maybe, though, when you get better we can study...." "If we haven't got a small lead box, you ought to be able to make one," his father broke in. "You could probably handle a small quantity of it that way, to bring it in so we can study it. Maybe, though," as an afterthought, "if it's that strong, you'd better wait for me to help before trying any of it in the generators." "It's in little cubes, a bit smaller than our copper pellets. That's why I'm so sure it's a fuel, and that it was put here by some sort of people who had advanced space travel a long, long time ago." Jon was still excited. "We figure all we have to do is finish laying out the town here, and then we can start back for Terra and put your claim before the Colonial Board," Jon said. "Of course, we all hoped and expected you'd be well enough to check what we've done...." "But we tried to follow all the items in the papers the Board gave us," Jak added seriously. "And now you're well, we can make sure...." "You father is far from well yet," their mother broke in, her voice imperative. "We are all so happy he's awake at last, but I can see he's very weak and that all this excitement has been almost too much for him. You boys say 'Good night' to him now, and then run off and eat your dinner, and let him sleep. Tomorrow evening you can finish your report." Reluctantly the boys obeyed, and went into their living quarters and to the table. "Golly, I should think Pop'd want to hear all about it now." Jon frowned with disappointment. "He does, don't you worry," Jak tried to cheer him. "I should have watched him more closely to see we didn't excite or overtire him, but I was just as happy and eager as you were. He'll be stronger after another good long sleep, but we've got to be careful not to expect too much of him for some time yet." "Yes, I know you're right." Then Jon's face lighted with relief. "But it's sure swell to have him awake so we can talk to him and he can take charge of things again. You did a grand job, Owl, bringing him through." "That's another thing, you big bum. You go handing out praise like that again, and I'll bust you one." "Oh, yeh, and who was the parrotfish talking up so big the few little things I did?" Jak came over and threw his arm across the shoulders of his taller but younger brother. "Both of us were so carried away by our enthusiasm we forgot to belittle each other," he said sagely. "Maybe we do sort of like each other, after all." Jon pushed him away with rough tenderness, but his eyes were suspiciously moist. His words, though, were an attempted snort, as he picked up his knife and fork. "What do you want—the next waltz?" <hr class="chap" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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