Never!
Jan relaxed his fists and forced himself to look calm as a desperate plan began to form in his mind.
“Let’s get it over and done with,” Weston said, consulting a computer print-out. “Now, I understand you have a cargo ship called Culcheth at this field. Where is it?”
“Over there.” Donn pointed out the rust-streaked hull of the Culcheth, which rose like a metallic steeple out of the heat haze a kilometre away.
A look of disdain spread across Weston’s square face as he studied the freighter’s shabby exterior. “I think I’m probably doing you a favour, Mr Hazard—that old bucket doesn’t look safe to fly.”
“Think what you like,” Donn said abruptly, turning away. “I’m going to call my lawyer.”
He strode off towards the office building with some semblance of his usual assurance, but Jan was not deceived and the anger he felt towards the bailiff increased. It was fortunate that Ozburt, a trusted friend, was on the control deck of the Culcheth—because not many people would have agreed to the reckless scheme he was about to put into action.
“What do you think, young man?” Weston said to Jan. “Do you reckon that ship will be able to reach the breaker’s yard under its own power?”
“It’s doubtful,” Jan said, keeping to himself the knowledge that underneath the Culcheth’s grimy surface were gleaming and well-maintained power and control systems. “By the way, we were testing the electrics on the rocket ship when you arrived and the circuits are still live.” He paused to let the lie sink in—there were no electrical components in the Seeker.
“What of it?”
“There’s a risk of fire. Would you like me to go on board and switch everything off, just in case?”
Weston shrugged. “I guess so—it’s not as if you were going to fly away.”
“True,” Jan said, smiling to conceal the fact that his heart had begun to pound. He walked to the transporter, his movements studiedly casual, and stepped up on to the trailer platform. The Seeker suddenly seemed huge, towering far above him. Jan climbed on the toeholds set into the crimson fuselage, reached the open canopy of the cockpit and swung himself inside. As soon as he was in the pilot’s seat, lying on his back because of the rocket ship’s vertical attitude, he raised his wrist communicator to his lips.
“Ozburt,” he whispered, urgently, “can you hear me?” To his relief, Ozburt answered immediately.
“What’s the matter, Jan?” Ozburt said. “You sound like you’ve got problems.”
“That’s the understatement of the century. The bailiffs have come and they want to impound everything Dad has.”
“Aw, no! I’m sorry, Jan. If only they’d waited another day everything would have been…”
“Everything is going to be fine,” Jan cut in. “I’m in the Seeker right now, and it will take more than a few county officials to stop me.”
“But…but what about your Dad?”
“I’m going to leave for Verdia without him,” Jan said grimly. “There’s nothing else for it.”
“Be reasonable,” Ozburt pleaded. “It’ll take an hour to get your ship on board the Culcheth, and by that time…”
“I’m not waiting an hour,” Jan said. “I’m taking off right now—and so are you.”
“But no matter where you land to do the loading they’ll catch up on us.”
“Who said anything about landing?” Jan closed the rocket ship’s canopy as he spoke. “I’ll meet you upstairs. Follow me up and we’ll rendezvous at a thousand metres.”
There was a shocked silence before Ozburt spoke again. “That’s a crazy idea, Jan. It’s too dangerous.”
“What’s the matter, Ozburt? Losing your nerve?”
“No, but I think you’ve lost your mind. You’ve never even flown that…”
“There’s no time to argue,” Jan snapped as, from the corner of his eye, he saw Weston begin to gesticulate at him. “I’m counting on you, Ozburt. My brother is counting on you, too—so don’t let us down.”
Without waiting for Ozburt’s reply, Jan strapped himself in and initiated the firing sequence for the Seeker’s rocket motor. As his hands darted across the control panel he glanced down at the ground and saw the stocky figure of the bailiff running towards the transporter.
I wouldn’t advise you to get too close, Jan thought as he punched the firing button.
There was a rumble from below as the tail pipes spat out flame and an instant later Weston came into view again, this time running in the opposite direction. Farther away, Donn appeared at the door to the office building.
“Sorry about this, Dad,” Jan murmured, “but it has to be done.”
The little ship trembled and smoke rose up on all sides as the searing exhaust from its motor set fire to the transporter vehicle. Jan waited until he was sure the plastic clamps holding the Seeker in place had been burned through, then he pushed the throttle fully forward.
The crimson ship ascended on a pillar of white fire which reduced the transporter to a tangle of glowing metal in a few seconds.
Grateful for the long hours he had put in on the flight simulator, Jan held the ship vertical while its speed built up. By turning his head he was able to see the gleaming expanses of the spaceport falling away beneath him. A plume of smoke from the blazing transporter was drifting across the field. The thunder of the rocket motor close behind him was overpowering. He picked out the rust-stained shape of the Culcheth and gave a sigh of relief as he saw it lift clear of the ground.
“Hurry up, Ozburt,” he shouted towards his communicator. “I’m burning up an awful lot of fuel.”
At a height of one thousand metres he throttled back until the ship was hanging motionless, gyroscopically balanced on a tongue of fire. The seconds seemed to stretch out into agonising hours as the Culcheth, rising easily on its gravity inverters, floated skywards and gradually overtook the Seeker.
Jan saw the familiar corroded hull slide upwards past him, its vastness blotting out the sun, and—guiding and controlling the Seeker almost by instinct—he manoeuvred closer to the open cargo door. Ozburt had extended the loading crane to catch the rocket, but the suction cup at its tip was a small and difficult target. Twice Jan thought he had steered the Seeker’s pointed nose into it, only to discover that he was again drifting free.
On the third attempt he saw the bright red prow enter the cone, and a tremor went through the little craft as it was clamped in place. The two ships were now locked together. Not giving himself time to think about what would happen if the suction cup were to fail, Jan closed down his rocket engine.
Its thunder died instantly, and he was left hanging in eerie silence a full kilometre above the Earth’s surface.
As the crane retracted and drew him into the cargo hold, Jan took a sombre and lingering look at the sunlit hugeness of the North American continent, which was slowly being cut off from his view. He had previously convinced himself that he and his father had allowed for every eventuality, for every threat that the mission to Verdia could pose, and yet he had faced unexpected danger even before getting clear of his home world.
Was it possible that he was being foolishly over-confident in his plan to tackle the Killer Planet single-handed? Was he destined to die on Verdia as so many others had done before him?
It’s too late to ask those questions, he told himself as the comparative darkness of the cargo hold closed around him. It’s too late—because there’s no going back.