Authors: Mike Jurist
Magnetic currents flowed and crisscrossed the gap. Waves of repulsion kicked the big freighter, by much the lighter of the two straining forces, right off its course. But each time Carter, the chief engineer, did miracles with the rocket tubes to get them back into line.
The crazy gyrations of the pursuing ship were obvious to everyone on board. But the opposite reaction on the purplish gleam of plunging asteroid was not so obvious.
The hours passed, and still no discernible effect could be observed. It was impossible, with the instruments on board, to detect the infinitesimal shift in the angle of flight which was all that was required.
Asteroid No. 640, the villain in the piece, hove into view. It was coming at an acute angle to its prey, cutting sharply in front. Would they collide? Would they not? Would there be a smash? Would they only graze? If they grazed, would they stick; or sheer off again? If they smashed, what would happen to the
Flying Meteor
,
only two miles behind? These were questions that tortured Kerry as he strained to watch. His whole future, perhaps the lives of everyone on board, depended on the answer.
Closer and closer they rushed on each other, with the
Flying Meteor
like a watchdog snapping at the heels of the smaller one. Closer and closer, while the power surged and the repulsions leaped across the void. All hands on board pushed and shoved at the portholes, straining their eyes and holding their breaths. Six million dollars' worth of precious metal hung in the balance!
Closer! Closer! Then a cheer went up. Jem yelled excitedly: "They're going to clear!"
Kerry felt a little sick. They
would
clear. He had miscalculated. A decimal place, perhaps, had gone wrong; some force had not been taken into account. Oh, well, he'd get the honor of having saved the asteroid. Old Fireball would have to be properly grateful. But that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to stand up to the man, not to come crawling to him with gifts in his hand.
A great groan went up. Kerry opened his eyes. He had involuntarily closed them.
The two asteroids, one so relatively large it almost swallowed the smaller, seemed to hang together. No. 891 shivered and dipped. It turned inward.
For one terrible moment Kerry was in agony. They would crash. He, personally, in his anxiety to outsmart Simeon Kenton, had blown to smithereens immensely valuable metal, important to the industries of the System.
Another cry echoed in the hold of the pursuing ship. The two small planetoids, of unequal size, trembled together. There was a little puff of smoke like lava dust that rose outward in a cloud; the heavier metal of No. 891 ground and scraped tangentially along the surface of No. 640; then both space-wanderers nestled snugly together and rushed on a swerving course, held by mutual pull and the inertia of their common speed.
Captain Ball unbent so far as to shake Kerry's hand violently. "Grand work!" he crowed. "No. 891 is absolutely undamaged. There's a groove on No. 640, but what the hell! It's just a bit of waste lava. We cou1d leave things as they are; or get some tractor ships from Ceres to help separate them.”
"Not bad!" Kerry agreed quietly. "But I think we'd better, get back to Ceres and send for, instructions before you do anything."
"Of course! I intended ,that. But you've done a swell job Mr. Dale. Simeon Kenton will be tickled.”
How tickled, the worthy captain had no means of knowing at the moment.
For, once back on Planets, Kerry hurried ashore, filed certain affidavits with the startled authorities, then sent a space-gram addressed to Simeon Kenton, President, Kenton Space Enterprises.
It was short and to the point.
As owner Planetoid No. 640 must demand damages my property due to fall of Planetoid No. 891 understand you own. Advise immediately if you'll pay before suit.
DALE
Back came the blistering reply:
Dale,
Planets, Ceres
You're damn fool as always. Was going to pay reward and offer big job. Now you can go to hell. Your blithering asteroid valueless, damage worth six cents. Cash en route. Will file counterclaim as soon as we separate the asteroids and determine damage to my own.
KENTON
Kerry's grin was a positive delight. Space surged again.
Kenton,
Megalon, Earth
Thanks for the compliments. Six cents refused. What do you mean your asteroid? No. 891
my
property now. Read Section 4, Article 6 of Space Code. Who's damn fool now?
DALE
Back on Earth old Simeon went into a veritable ecstasy of explosive—anger. His epithets burned holes in the office furniture, and melted the Lucite walls. Even Sally was startled, though she had thought herself thoroughly immune to her estimable ancestor's language.
"What's the matter, dad?" she queried.
He danced up and down the length and width of the office. "That dodrotted, incinerated, langasted skibberite you think's so grand! Look at this now! Look, I tell you!"
"Don't yell so," she reproved. "You'll break a blood vessel." She took the spacegram from his trembling fingers. "Hmm-m!" A little smile made impudent curves of her lips. "Have you read Section what-is-it yet?"
Old Simeon glared at her. He slammed open the visiscreen.
"Horn," he barked, "what's Section 4, Article 6 of the Space Code say?"
"Well . . . uh . . . offhand I don't know, but—"
"Oh, you don't, don't you? You have to look it up, do you? I bet that ding-the-ding-ding Dale didn't have to look it up. He had it at his fingertips. Go on, look it up! Don't stand there like a bleating doodlebug."
Horn swallowed hard. Within a minute he was back on the screen.
"It reads, sir, as follows:
`In the event that a freely moving body in space, not artificially produced or manufactured by man or machine, shall fall on or in anywise impinge upon the surface of a planet, satellite or asteroid, the said body so falling or impinging shall forthwith become the property of the record owner of title to the surface of such planet, satellite or asteroid upon which the same has fallen or impinged as aforesaid.' "
Kenton broke into a delighted chuckle. "Ha! Got that blasted skalawoggle on the hip. Thought he was smart, huh!
I've
got an asteroid, too. I can claim
his
fell on mine." He rubbed his hands. "I'll take him all the way up to the highest courts; I'll spend thousands to—"
Horn scowled down at the book in his hands. "If I might venture to suggest, sir—"
"Go on and suggest, Horn." Old Simeon was in high good humor. He even smiled benevolently
"There's a definition here of a falling body, sir. You didn't give me a chance—"
"Hah! What's that?"
"It says:
`A falling body is defined as the lesser in mass of two bodies when two freely moving bodies in space
collide or impinge on each other in any manner or form.'
"I took the trouble to look up the respective masses, sir. Planetoid No. 891, the one that . . . ahem . . .
used
to belong to us, has a gross of seven hundred ninety-two thousand, three hundred and eighty-one tons. Planetoid 640, sir, has a gross of twelve million, five hundred eighty-eight thousand, four hundred and thirty-seven tons."
Sally said: "This Kerry Dale seems to have you there, dad."
"Why . . . why," he gasped, "it's outrageous; I won't have it. Six millions of my hard-earned money going to that snipperwhopper! Can't you
do
something, Horn?"
"I'm afraid not. The law is clear. I'd suggest a settlement."
"Settlement be darned!" he stormed. "I'll—"
"You'd better, dad," Sally advised. "After all, six million—" He groaned, sputtered and gave in. He composed a space-gram that he thought was a crafty masterpiece.
Dale,
Planets, Ceres
You're a space robber and a scoundrel. Will start suit at once and win. To avoid suit I'll permit you to settle. Offer you fifty thousand cash in return for general release. Will pay expenses of removing my property. Answer at once or suit goes on file.
KENTON
In due time came the answer:
O. K. Give me hundred thousand and we
both
sign releases.
DALE
"Ha!" chuckled Simeon. "I thought that would scare the pants off him. For a measly hundred thousand he gives up clear title to six millions. Quick, Horn, draw the releases and shoot them on to Ceres with a draft for the money before the young fool recovers from his fright."
The releases were signed and exchanged; and the draft was cashed.
Simeon told his daughter happily: "There, you see, my dear, no one can get the best of your father. That young—"
A most agitated expert burst into the office; in his excitement he even forgot to announce his coming. He was Bellamy, chief expert of the Kenton Scientific Staff.
"A . . . a most terrible mistake has been made," he stammered, "a-about th-that asteroid."
"Ah!" murmured Sally to herself. "Maybe Kerry Dale wasn't so foolish as darling dad thought."
"What about it?" snapped Kenton.
"We miscalculated the orbits. We were so . . . rushed for time, we weren't able to send to Ceres for a copy of the Mammoth chart. I . . . I thought of it only yesterday. With the new factors on hand, I re-calculated the elements."
A terrible suspicion grew on Simeon.
"They . . . they wouldn't have met," Bellamy went on unhappily. "They would have cleared by three miles if the
Flying Meteor
hadn't pushed them together."
Sally ran to her father. For once she was seriously alarmed. He seemed to be having a stroke. His face went a deep purple and his breath wheezed. "I'll sue him," he gasped. "I'll get my money back. I'll bankrupt him for fraud and conspiracy, for—"
"Wait a minute, dad," said Sally. "You can't."
"Why can't I?"
"You gave him a general release."
For a long moment old Simeon glared at her. Then he fell weakly into a chair and a certain awed admiration came into his eyes. "The dingdasted good-for-nothing! No wonder he sold out so fast and so cheap. He outsmarted me . . .
me,
Simeon Kenton."
He rose from his chair. "Daughter," he said impressively, "mark my words, that young man will go far!"
But Sally wasn't there anymore. She bad quietly slipped out. She wanted to send a private spacegram of her own. It read:
Kerry Dale,
Planets, Ceres
Congratulations! Keep up the good work!
SALLY KENTON
CHAPTER 4
SIMEON KENTON was in a terrific temper. He paced up and down the confines of his office with short, rapid steps that tossed his deceptive halo of white hair into utter confusion. His mildly whiskered saint's visage was screwed up into unutterable knots. In his tight-clutched fingers was a blue spacegram which he shook violently at his daughter at each choking pause in his peroration.
"Dadblast that dingfoodled young scalawag of a Kerry Dale," he exploded. "Look at this, will you? Of all the impudent, soncarned—I mean condarned—damn it, you know what I mean!"
"I think I know what you mean," his daughter, Sally, admitted demurely. Her eyes danced and secreted understanding, albeit slightly wicked, humor. She loved her irascible father; they might tilt at each other and parry deft strokes for the sheer intellectual joy of the thing, but underneath her slim, proud beauty there functioned a brain as keen and hard as his own.
"You mean that Kerry Dale has turned down your proposition."
Old Simeon glared at her and waved the offending spacegram so violently it ripped in his fingers. "I offered to take him back into my service as a lawyer," he shouted. "I offered to forget that dirty trick he pulled on me about the colliding asteroids that cost me over a hundred thousand dollars. I even hinted that within a year or so he might succeed that dithering ass, Roger Horn, as Chief of my Legal Department. I mentioned delicately I'd tear up that contract he signed when drunk obligating him to eight more months of cargo-toting on my ships."