Rip Foster in Ride the Gray Planet Part 8

"We'll get those. The orbit will not be exact, of course. We have only two reference points. But I think we'll come pretty close."

O'Brine nodded. "Do what you can, Chief. And when Foster gets down to doing his calculations, have your men run them through the electronic computer for him."

Rip thanked them both, then stood up. "Sir, I'm going back to my men. I want to be sure everything is ready. If there's a Connie cruiser headed this way, we don't want to lose any time."

"Good idea. I think we'll dump you on the asteroid, Foster, and then blast off. Not too far, of course. Just enough to lead the Connie away from you if its screen picks us up."

That sounded good to Rip. "We'll be ready when you are, sir."

The chief a.n.a.lyst took less than the estimated ten minutes for his next set of figures. Commander O'Brine called personally while Rip was still searching for the right landing-boat ports. The voice horn bellowed, "Get it, Lieutenant Foster! The ma.s.s measurements are correct. This is your asteroid. Estimated twelve minutes before we reach it. Your data will be ready by the time you get back here. Show an exhaust!"

Rip found Koa and the men and asked the sergeant major for a report.

"We're ready, sir," Koa told him. "We can get out in three minutes. It will take us that long to get into s.p.a.ce gear. Your stuff is laid out, sir."

"Get me the books and charts from the supplies," Rip directed. "Have Santos take them to the chief a.n.a.lyst. I'm going back and figure our course. No use doing it the hard way on the asteroid, when I can do it in a few minutes here with the s.h.i.+p's computer."

He turned and hurried back, hauling himself along by handholds. The s.h.i.+p had stopped acceleration and was at no-weight again. As he neared the a.n.a.lysis section, it went into deceleration, but the pressure was not too bad. He made his way against it easily.

The chief a.n.a.lyst was waiting for him. "We have everything you need, Lieutenant, except the orbital stuff. We'll do the best we can on that and have an estimate in a few minutes. Meanwhile you can mark up your figures. Incidentally, what power are you going to use to move the asteroid?"

"Nuclear explosions," Rip said, and saw the chief's eyes pop. He added, "With conventional chemical fuel for corrections."

He felt rising excitement. The whole s.h.i.+p seemed to have come to life.

There was excited tension in the computer room when he went in with the chief. s.p.a.cemen, all mathematicians, were waiting for him. As the chief led him to a table, they gathered around him.

Rip took command. "Here's what we're after. I need to plot an orbit that will get us out of the asteroid belt without collisions, take us as close to the sun as possible without having it capture us, and land us in s.p.a.ce about ten thousand miles from Earth. From then on I'll throw the asteroid into a braking ellipse around the earth, and I'll be able to make any small corrections necessary."

He spread out a solar system chart and marked in the positions of the planets as of that moment, using the daily almanac. Then he put down the position of the asteroid, taking it from the paper the chief a.n.a.lyst handed him.

"Will you make a.s.signments, Chief?"

The chief shook his head. "Make them yourself, Lieutenant. We're at your service."

Rip felt a little ashamed of some of the unkind things he had said about s.p.a.cemen. "Thank you." He pointed to a s.p.a.ceman. "Will you calculate the inertia of the asteroid, please?" The s.p.a.ceman hurried off. "First thing to do is plot the orbit as though there were no other bodies in the system," Rip said. "Where's Santos?"

"Here, sir." The corporal had come in unnoticed with Rip's reference books.

Rip had plotted orbits before, but never one for actual use. His palms were wet as he laid it out, using prepared tables. When he had finished he pointed to a s.p.a.ceman. "That's it. Will you translate it into a.n.a.logue figures for the computer, please?" He a.s.signed to others the task of figuring out the effect Mercury, the sun, and Earth would have on the orbit, using an a.s.sumed speed for the asteroid.

To the chief a.n.a.lyst he gave the job of putting all the data together in proper form for feeding to the electronic brain.

It would have taken all s.p.a.cemen present about ten days to complete the job by regular methods, but the electronic computer produced the answer in three minutes.

"Thanks a million, Chief," Rip said. "I'll be calling on you again before this is over." He tucked the sheets into his pocket.

"Anytime, Lieutenant. We'll keep rechecking the figures as we go along.

If there are any corrections, we'll send them to you. That will give you a check on your own figures."

"Don't worry," Rip a.s.sured him, "we're going to have plenty of corrections before we're through."

Deceleration had been dropping steadily. It ceased altogether, leaving them weightless. O'Brine's voice came over the speaker. "Get it! Valve crews take stations at landing boats five and six. The Planeteers will depart in five minutes. Lieutenant Foster will report to central control if he cannot be ready in that time."

Santos grinned at Rip. "Here we go, Lieutenant."

Rip's heart would have dropped into his shoes if there had been any gravity. Only a little excitement showed on his face, though. He waved his thanks at the a.n.a.lysts and grinned back at Santos.

"Show an exhaust, Corporal. High vack is waiting!"

CHAPTER SIX

Rip's Planet

Rip rechecked his s.p.a.ce suit before putting on his helmet. The air seal was intact, and his heating and ventilating units worked. He slapped his knee pouches to make sure the s.p.a.ce knife was handy to his left hand, the pistol to his right.

Koa was already fully dressed. He handed Rip the shoulder case that contained the plotting board. Santos had taken charge of Rip's astrogation instruments.

A s.p.a.ceman was waiting with Rip's bubble. At a nod, the s.p.a.ceman slipped it on his head. Rip reached up and gave it a quarter turn. The locking mechanism clamped into place. He turned his belt ventilator control on full, and the s.p.a.ce suit puffed out. When it was fully inflated, he watched the pressure gauge. It was steady. No leaks in suit or helmet.

He let the pressure go down to normal.

Koa's voice buzzed in his ears. "Hear me, sir?"

Rip adjusted the volume of his communicator and replied, "I hear you. Am I clear?"

"Yessir. All men dressed and ready."

Rip made a final check. He counted his men, then personally inspected their suits. The boats were next. They were typical landing craft, shaped like rectangular boxes. There was no need for streamlining in the vacuum of s.p.a.ce. They were not pressurized. Only men in s.p.a.ce suits rode in the ungainly boxes.

He checked all blast tubes to make sure they were clear. There were small single tubes on each side of the craft. A clogged one could explode and blow the boat up.

Koa, he knew, had checked everything, but the final responsibility was his. In s.p.a.ce, no officer took anyone's word for anything that might mean lives. Each checked every detail personally.

Rip looked around and saw the Planeteers watching him. There was approval on the faces behind the clear helmets, and he knew they were satisfied with his thoroughness.

At last, certain that everything was in good order, he said quietly, "Pilots, man your boats."

Dowst got into one and a s.p.a.ceman into the other. Dowst's boat would stay with them on the asteroid. The s.p.a.ceman would bring the other back to the s.h.i.+p.

Commander O'Brine stepped through the valve into the boat lock. A s.p.a.ceman handed him a hand communicator. He spoke into it. Rip couldn't have heard him through the helmet otherwise. "All set, Foster?"

"Ready, sir."

"Good. The long-range screen picked up a blip a few minutes ago. It's probably that Connie cruiser."

Rip swallowed. The Planeteers froze, waiting for the commander's next words.