Killer Planet

Chapter Two

As the morning progressed the temperature at the Jacksonville field had climbed steadily until exposed metal surfaces were too hot to touch. The work of maintaining and servicing the big starships went on as before, but the sounds of the cargo handling machines and repair robots now seemed to have a drowsy quality, as though even their metal limbs had been made sluggish by the oppressive heat. The air was heavy and humid, blurring the flat, distant horizon.

Jan was helping his father carry out final checks and adjustments on the controls of the Seeker. The time had almost arrived for the rocket ship to be moved out of the workshop area to the north side of the spacefield for loading on to the Culcheth, the specially adapted starship which would carry it across the light years to Verdia. Being small and chemically propelled, the Seeker was only capable of short-range orbital flight. To get it out of the Solar System and across the inconceivably vast distances that separate the stars, it was necessary for it to be carried in the cargo bay of the huge warp-driven freighter which could leap from one star to another in a fraction of a second.

The task of preparing the Seeker for flight involved frequently climbing from ground level up to the rocket ship’s cockpit. Donn had been more than prepared to do his full share of the work, but Jan had seen him slowly becoming drained of energy by the punishing heat and had unobtrusively taken on the most demanding jobs. In spite of his superb physical condition he found himself sweating profusely from the exertion, a fact which strengthened his secret resolve about the Verdia mission.

Rescuing Bari from the Killer Planet was an undertaking for someone in his physical prime, and he would be able to afford no mistakes when the time came to take over from his father. He had not yet worked out exactly how he was going to do it—outwitting his father in such a matter would be far from easy—and his lack of a plan added to the uncertainties which clouded the near future. His feeling of urgency increased as he remembered how short was the time remaining to him. The Seeker was due to be taken aboard the Culcheth that very afternoon, and the warp jump to Verdia was scheduled for the following day…

“Jan, when are we going to break for lunch?” The voice from Jan’s wrist communicator was that of Ozburt Groom, speaking from the control deck of the Culcheth, which was parked about a kilometre away. “I’m so hungry I could eat a Sirian lizard.”

Jan leaned against one of the transporter’s gigantic wheels and shook his head in disbelief. “You can’t be hungry already.”

“Don’t forget I’ve had nothing since breakfast,” Ozburt said plaintively. “That burger I had a couple of hours ago doesn’t count—it was so small it’s rattling around in my stomach.”

“There’s plenty of room for it,” Jan replied, alluding to his friend’s ample girth. “How’s the work going over there?”

“Almost through—another hour or so will wrap it up.”

“In that case wouldn’t it be more sensible to finish off before you stop to feed your face?”

“Don’t be such a slave-driver,” Donn said, coming to stand by his side. “Ozburt is doing me a big favour by standing in for Ed.”

He was referring to the fact that Ed Czubek, the Hazard Line’s sole remaining freighter pilot, had taken a day’s sick leave. Ozburt had volunteered in his place to carry out all the pre-flight checks on the Culcheth so that tomorrow’s take-off would not be delayed.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Jan said, realising he had been unfair to Ozburt. “It’s just that there’s so little time left, and…and…”

“I know—the last two years have been a big strain on all of us.” Donn squeezed his son’s shoulder, demonstrating the affection he rarely put into words. “Now why don’t you arrange to pick up Ozburt and Petra and I’ll buy us all a lunch so big that even Ozburt will have to admit defeat?”

“Okay, Dad,” Jan said, smiling. He was raising his communicator to his lips when he noticed two long grey cars bearing the county crest pulling up at the Hazard Line’s office. A squat, soberly dressed man got out of the leading car, shading his eyes as he looked all about him, while Jan’s father was approaching him. He had a hard and humourless face, and something in his manner made Jan feel strangely uneasy.

“Are you Donn Hazard?” the man said brusquely.

“I am.” Donn showed some surprise. “What can I do for you?”

“You can take this.” The stranger produced a folded document from one of his pockets. “It’s a court order empowering me to impound all your assets pending bankruptcy proceedings against you.”

“I…” Donn looked stunned, unable to comprehend what was happening. “What does this mean?”

“It means you haven’t been paying your bills, Mr Hazard. It means you owe a lot of people a lot of money and they’ve gotten tired of waiting for it. My name is Weston, by the way, and—as you may have guessed—I’m a bailiff. I know the word has an old-fashioned ring to it these days, but a debt is still a debt.”

“But this is ridiculous.” Donn frowned as he opened the document. “There must have been a mistake. I know I’ve had to ask some people to wait a while, but…”

“It’s been more than a while,” Weston cut in. “Quite a few of your creditors have been waiting two years.”

So it has finally happened, Jan thought, numbed with dismay. His father had been so obsessed with designing and building the Seeker and preparing for its desperate mission that everything else had ceased to have much meaning for him. Friends and colleagues had repeatedly warned him that his business was rapidly going downhill, but nothing had mattered to him other than the overwhelming need to build the ship which would rescue his son.

And the worst had finally come to pass—only hours before the take-off for Verdia.

“All right, I’ll make you a deal,” Donn said, forcing a smile with obvious effort as he pointed at the Seeker. “You can take everything except that.”

Weston again shaded his eyes as he turned his attention to the smooth curvatures of the little ship which was poised on the transporter like a crimson bird ready to take flight.

“What in the name of…?” His eyes widened with surprise. “That looks like a rocket ship!”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“But why would anybody want a chemically powered ship in this day and age?”

“You could say it’s an experimental vessel,” Donn replied. “It was built to do one special job and it’s of no value to anybody except me—so what do you say? Have we a deal?”

Weston shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ll have to impound everything, including that rocket—even if it’s only for the scrap value.”

“Scrap!” Jan was galvanised into stepping forward, his mind clamouring with anger and alarm. “You can’t scrap the Seeker!”

Weston regarded him with unfriendly eyes. “I’m only doing my job, young man.”

“Some job!” Jan said heatedly. “If you think you’re just going to walk in here and…”

“It’s all right, son,” Donn cut in, then returned his attention to the bailiff. “Look, there’s no need for all this rush is there? If you will come back in a couple of hours, I’ll have my lawyer here and we can talk things over in a reasonable manner.”

“No way!” Weston shook his head emphatically. “I go away for a couple of hours and come back to find that half your assets have mysteriously vanished. Nobody’s going to pull that trick on me. No, sir!”

“I don’t go in for trickery,” Donn snapped, a gleam of anger in his eyes.

“I hope you’re not thinking of trying anything foolish,” Weston said, shifting uneasily. “I have quite a few men with me in case of trouble.”

“Trouble?” Donn glanced past the stocky figure of the bailiff to where half-a-dozen men were getting out of the official cars and a look of resignation appeared on his face, making him look very tired. “I don’t want trouble.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Weston said.

Jan was aghast as he listened. It came to him that two years of unremitting effort and worry had taken a terrible toll of his father’s spirit. The monstrous unfairness of having the Seeker impounded on the very eve of its departure must have been the last straw for him. Jan clenched his fists as a tide of fury washed through his being. Was this going to be the futile end to all their hopes? Was his brother going to be condemned to eke out the rest of his life in the jungles of Verdia because of one petty official?

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.