Johnny finished his coffee and pushed the cup aside. “I knew he wasn’t jokin’. He was excited, and I think he was scared, too. Just before I left him, he said, ‘There’s one other thing, Johnny. Things might not work out quite the way I figure them, and if they don’t, make sure the twins know what I’ve told you.’ I told him I would, and headed back. That was the last I heard from him until the patrol ship found him floating in space with a torn-open suit and a ruined scooter floating a few miles away.”
They sat in silence for a while. Then Tom said, “Do you think that Jupiter Equilateral knew Dad had found something?”
“Who knows? I’m sure that he never told them, but it’s awful hard to keep a secret like that, and they sound mighty eager to buy that rig,” Johnny Coombs said.
“Yes, and it doesn’t make sense. I mean, if they were responsible for Dad’s accident, why didn’t they just check in for him on schedule and then quietly bring in their rig to jump the claim?”
“Maybe they couldn’t find it,” Johnny said. “If they’d killed your dad, they wouldn’t have dared hang around very long right then. Even if they’d kept the signal going, a patrol ship might have come into the region any time. And if a U.N. patrol ship ever caught them working a dead man’s claim without reporting the dead man, the suit would really start to leak.” Johnny shook his head. “Remember, your dad had a dozen claims out there. They might have had to scout the whole works to find the right one. Much easier to do it out in the open, with your signatures on a claim transfer. But one thing is sure—if they knew what Roger found out there, and where it was, Tawney would never be offerin’ you triple price for the rig.”
“Then whatever Dad found is still out there,” Tom said.
“I’d bet my last dime on it.”
“There might even be something to show that the accident wasn’t an accident,” Tom went on. “Something even the major would have to admit was evidence.”
Johnny Coombs pursed his lips. “Might be,” he conceded.
“Well, what are we waiting for? We turned Tawney’s offer down; he might be sending a crew out to jump the claim right now.”
“If he hasn’t already,” Johnny said.
“Then we’ve got to get out there.”
“With what?” Greg broke in. “I think we ought to get out there, too, but let’s face facts. It costs plenty to outfit a trip into the belt, and I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Neither do I,” Johnny Coombs admitted. “Still, we might not need too much. There are a lot of miners on Mars who thought Roger Hunter was a pretty fine guy. They might just kick in to outfit us.”
“But even so, what could we do?” Greg said. “I don’t know anything about asteroid mining.”
“I do. You could pilot us out and handle the navigation, and as for Tom—”
“As for Tom, he could get sick all over the place and keep us busy just taking care of him,” Greg said sourly. “You and me, yes. Not Tom. You don’t know that boy in a space ship.”
Tom started to his feet, glaring at his brother. “That’s got nothing to do with it.”
“It’s true, isn’t it? You’d be a big help out there.”
Johnny looked at Tom. “You always get sick in free-fall?”
Tom nodded miserably.
“Even with dramamine?”
“I always have. But I can control it if I try.”
“Look, let’s be reasonable,” Greg said. “You’d just be in the way. There are plenty of things you could do right here, and Johnny and I could handle the rig alone.”
Tom faced his brother angrily. “If you think I’m going to stay here and keep myself company, you’re crazy,” he said. “This is one show you’re not going to run, so just quit trying. If you go out there, I go.”
Greg shrugged. “Okay, Twin. It’s your stomach, not mine.”
“Then let me worry about it.”
“I hope,” Johnny said, “that that’s the worst we have to worry about. Maybe it is—but I doubt it. Merrill Tawney is fat, but he’s no fool. If we try a trip out there, he may go quite a way to stop us. And if he does, we’re goin’ to have plenty of fightin’ to do without fightin’ each other.” He looked from one to the other. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Greg said, after a moment. Tom nodded.
“Then let’s get started plannin’.”
Time was the factor uppermost in their minds. They knew that even under the best of conditions, it could take weeks to outfit and prepare for a run out to the belt. A ship had to be leased and fueled; there were supplies to lay in. There was the problem of clearance to take care of, claims to be verified and spotted, orbit co-ordinates to be computed and checked—a thousand details to be dealt with, any one of which might delay embarkation from an hour to a day or more.
It was not surprising that Tom and Greg were dubious when Johnny told them they could be ready to clear ground in less than twenty-four hours. Even knowing that Merrill Tawney might already have a mining crew at work on Roger Hunter’s claims, they could not believe that the red tape of preparation and clearance could be cut away so swiftly.
They underestimated Johnny Coombs.
Six hours after he left them, he was back with a signed lease giving them the use of a scout ship and fuel to take them out to the belt and back again; the ship was in the Sun Lake City racks waiting for them whenever they were ready.
“What kind of a ship?” Greg wanted to know.
“A Class III Flying Dutchman with overhauled atomics and hydrazine side jets,” Johnny said, waving the transfer order. “Think you can fly it?”
Greg whistled. “Can I! I trained in a Dutchman; just about the fastest scouter there is. What condition?”
“Lousy. But it’s fueled, with six weeks’ supplies in the hold, and it doesn’t cost us a cent. Courtesy of a friend. It’ll do, but you’ll have to check it over.”
They inspected the ship, a weather-beaten scouter that looked like a relic of the nineties. Inside there were signs of many refittings and overhauls, but the atomics were well shielded, and it carried a surprisingly large chemical fuel auxiliary for the size of the cabin. Greg disappeared into the engine room, and Tom and Johnny left him testing valves and circuits while they headed down to the U.N. registry office in the control tower.
On the way Johnny outlined the remaining outfitting steps. Tom would be responsible for getting the clearance permit through registry; Johnny would check out all supplies, and then contact the observatory for the orbit co-ordinates of Roger Hunter’s claims.
“I thought the orbits were mapped on the claim papers,” Tom said. “I mean, every time an asteroid is claimed, the orbit has to be charted.”
“That’s right, but the orbit goes all the way around the sun. We know where the Scavenger was when the patrol ship found her, but she’s been traveling in orbit ever since. The observatory computer will pinpoint her for us and chart a collision course so we can cut out and meet her instead of trailin’ her for a week. Do you have the crew papers Greg and I signed?”
“Right here.”
They were stepping off the ramp below the ship when a man loomed up out of the shadows. He was a miner Tom had never seen before. Johnny nodded as he approached. “Any news, Jack?”