Part 3 (2/2)

”The _Marsward_ isn't carrying G-boats,” he said regretfully. ”They all belong to the port, and Marscorp's got them so tied up you'll never get a sniff of one. But if you want to get back to your s.h.i.+p, Jonner, I can take you up to Phobos with me, as my guest.”

Jonner shook his head.

”I figure on taking the _Radiant Hope_ back to Earth,” he said. ”But I'm not blasting off without cargo until it's too late for me to beat you on the run.”

”You sure? This'll be my last ferry trip. The _Marsward_ blasts off for Earth at 0300 tomorrow.”

”No, thanks, Russo. But I will appreciate your taking my s.h.i.+p's doctor, Dr. Elden, up to Phobos.”

”Done!” agreed Baat. ”Let's go, Dr. Elden. The G-boat leaves Marsport in two hours.”

Jonner watched Baat puff away, with the slender, white-clad brunette at his side. Baat personally would see Lana Elden safely aboard the _Radiant Hope_, even if it delayed his own blastoff.

Morosely, he left the hearing room with Deveet.

”What I can't understand,” said the latter, ”is why all this dirty work, why didn't Marscorp just use one of their atom-drive s.h.i.+ps for the compet.i.tion run?”

”Because whatever s.h.i.+p is used on a compet.i.tion run has to be kept in service on the franchised run,” answered Jonner. ”Marscorp has millions tied up in hydrazine interests, and they're more interested in keeping an atomic s.h.i.+p off this run than they are in a monopoly franchise. But they tie in together: if Marscorp loses the monopoly franchise and Atom-Star puts in atom-drive s.h.i.+ps, Marscorp will have to switch to atom-drive to meet the compet.i.tion.”

”If we had a franchise, we could force s.p.a.ce Fuels to sell us hydrazine,” said Deveet unhappily.

”Well, we don't. And, at this rate, we'll never get one.”

Jonner and Deveet were fis.h.i.+ng at the Mars City Recreation Center. It had been several weeks since the _Marsward XVIII_ blasted off to Earth with a full cargo. And still the atomic s.h.i.+p _Radiant Hope_ rested on Phobos with most of her Marsbound cargo still aboard; and still her crew languished at the Phobos s.p.a.ce station; and still Jonner moved back and forth between Mars City and Marsport daily, racking his brain for a solution that would not come.

”How in s.p.a.ce do you get twenty tons of cargo up to an orbit 5,800 miles out, without any rocket fuel?” he demanded of Deveet more than once. He received no satisfactory answer.

The Recreation Center was a two-acre park that lay beneath the plastic dome of Mars City. Above them they could see swift-moving Phobos and distant Deimos among the other stars that powdered the night. In the park around them, colonists rode the amus.e.m.e.nt machines, canoed along the ca.n.a.l that twisted through the park or sipped refreshment at scattered tables. A dozen or more sat, like Jonner and Deveet, around the edge of the tiny lake, fis.h.i.+ng.

Deveet's line tightened. He pulled in a streamlined, flapping object from which the light glistened wetly.

”Good catch,” complimented Jonner. ”That's worth a full credit.”

Deveet unhooked his catch and laid it on the bank beside him. It was a metal fish: live fish were unknown on Mars. They paid for the privilege of fis.h.i.+ng for a certain time and any fish caught were ”sold” back to the management at a fixed price, depending on size, to be put back into the lake.

”You're pretty good at it,” said Jonner. ”That's your third tonight.”

”It's all in the speed at which you reel in your line,” explained Deveet. ”The fish move at pre-set speeds. They're made to turn and catch a hook that moves across their path at a slightly slower speed than they're swimming. The management changes the speeds once a week to keep the fishermen from getting too expert.”

”You can't beat the management,” chuckled Jonner. ”But if it's a matter of matching orbital speeds to make contact, I ought to do pretty well when I get the hang of it.”

He c.o.c.ked an eye up toward the transparent dome. Phobos had moved across the sky into Capricorn since he last saw her. His memory automatically ticked off the satellite's...o...b..tal speed: 1.32 miles a second; speed in relation to planetary motion....

Why go over that again? One had to have fuel first. Meanwhile, the _Radiant Hope_ lay idle on Phobos and its crew whiled away the hours at the s.p.a.ce station inside the moon, their feet spinning faster than their heads ... no, that wasn't true on Phobos, because it didn't have a spin to impart artificial gravity, like the s.p.a.ce stations around Earth.

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