Star Ship on Saddle Mountain (16 page)

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Authors: Richard Ackley

Tags: #science fiction

BOOK: Star Ship on Saddle Mountain
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"But," said Biri, "didn't we promise we wouldn't,
when we talked to father before the trial?"
"Oh no," Dondee said quickly. "All we did was try
to bargain with him for Charles's freedom."
"Do you know what we are thinking?" Biri asked
Charlie, still caressing the top of the stairway railing.
"I sure do!" he agreed. "Huh, you think I don't
know how to do that. Just watch me!"
Almost immediately Charlie was straddling the
smooth railing, and Biri and Dondee quickly joined him.
"Lean to the inside, Charles!" Dondee said. "That
way you don't fall outward—besides you get more speed!"
"The faster you go," Biri added, "the more you
better lean inward."
Charlie got a head start and was far in the lead,
heading down the eighteen tiers. Biri was only a little ahead of
Dondee, beating him by inches. Charlie shouted back to them, while
several startled people came out on their respective tiers, and
stared down after them.
"Those Bin children again," was one impulse Charlie
caught, then another— "Those children of the Prime family are going
to break their fool necks, or some part of their anatomy that not
even the sciences can repair!"
Laughing to themselves, as they glanced up at the
distant faces speedily revolving away from them, Charlie and his
duplicates whirled down toward the bottom tier. Charlie made it
first, slowing to a stop on the end of the railing. Still looking
up as Biri and Dondee came barreling down, neither of them slowed
up, and both—one after the other— piled into Charlie's chest,
bowling him off the end. All three tumbled in a dazed heap on the
polished block tile surface.
"I didn't break what those people up there thought
I'd break," Dondee said, wincing, "but I sure bumped it
plenty!"
They found Navajo comfortably relaxed, sprawled out
on his side, and Crustie also asleep nearby. With his many legs
pulled up close about him, Dondee's big pet Crustie was making a
mild grating sound as he slept leisurely near Navajo's head.
"Hey," Charlie said, "I think Nav kinda likes
Crustie's snore! Look at that relaxed look on his face!"
Just then Navajo opened his eyes, glanced up and
seeing who it was, sniffed lightly and went back to his snooze.
Charlie grinned, and patted him and after spreading out some more
of the freshly-dried straw that had come from the fields near the
Mist Forests, they left Crustie and Navajo to their dreams.

Charlie then went with Biri and
Dondee to the upper surface out in the country, for a last check of
the
Lancer,
before it would be taken up on one of the star ships to be
moored at the race landing.

After rushing around all day to make last
preparations for the holiday, they left with the Primate and
Elstara Bin late that evening, to be up on the space islands well
before the Barrier World turned completely on its axis. In this
way, they would be on hand to see the first morning Sun burst, and
the Sun Rise ceremony that heralded the celebrated day.
More and more Charlie found himself having the same
feeling now, he had felt long ago back on Earth, on the night
before Christmas. In the entire Capitol City, all the crowds were
dancing about on the great Branzine Plaza.
All people throughout the vast planet were in a
happy and festive mood. It was the greatest day of the year.
Morning finally came as Charlie, with Biri and
Dondee and their parents, stood looking for the first great shafts
of the Sun's light to shoot across their space island. And all
about the great platform, other groups too stood waiting. And then
it came! Charlie felt almost the same joy that Biri felt, but his
joy was at the sight of the great shimmering blue cobalt ball, the
blazing pale blue haze of the outer ammonia band, from which he
felt sure all the blue skies in his world had been copied. It was a
wonderful sight to see.
Above the Hi Fi Winds, they were on one of the
chain of space islands that orbited in the "doldrums," the almost
completely windless band of space circling the big world. Off in
the distance, Charlie could see the vast shadows of the mighty
rings that banded the planet.

It wasn't long after a quick
breakfast, picnic style, that Charlie and his duplicates said
goodbye to the Bin parents and, with their good luck wishes, they
were beside their racer, the
Lancer.

The
Lancer
was strangely beautiful to
Charlie. Its great, slightly curved mirror-reflector sail glittered
in the Sun's , blue glare, and he found it hard to believe the
great sweep ! of metal could be held up by the slim and
frail-looking hull beneath it. But Dondee soon explained that, with
the lack of any gravity, and its accompanying lack of weight, it
wasn't hard to hold up the big sail. Besides, the sail's metal was
an alloy far lighter than any aluminum in Charles's own home
world.

In every direction as far as
Charlie could see, there were other space islands, all loaded with
holiday people. The Sun Regatta would be watched by them all, while
they ate from the special packeted foods they brought along, and
listened to the musical groups playing their strange but somewhat
familiar instruments, on each space island. Because Elstara Bin was
one of the judges for the Regatta, the Primate was seated off
behind the judge's stand, just like any other holiday seeker.
Charlie noticed the Primate stretching his neck as he leaned out of
the grandstand seat to watch them and the
Lancer.

Several of the other Council members, however, were
also in the judging stand out front, so for the moment, they held
more importance than the Primate himself. Charlie decided their
world was a pretty democratic sort of place. Like Arizona.
Though the Primate waved to them, Elstara didn't
wave. She nodded with the reserve expected of a judge.

"Mother's got to watch the rules!"
Dondee said. "Still, I hope she doesn't forget who's in this
old
Lancer
here,
even if she is a judge!"

"I know very well she's prejudiced," Biri said
bluntly, "for us to win."
As Charlie watched Dondee's maneuvering of the thin
light sheet that was to power them from the direct force of the
Sun's beams striking it, he found himself again wondering just how
the Sun's light could give it any push-power.
"Charles," Dondee explained, still eyeing the
starter, "it's like the jet engines of your world. Only, we don't
have too
much force at the start, and it has to build up
speed, under the direct cosmic bombardment from the Sun."

The dozen or so other racers,
similar to the
Lancer
, were also readying for the start.

"The Sun's reflection on the sail is already making
a very small push, Charles—see, how it strains at the release catch
on the mooring?"

Charlie nodded, still dubious
about the force of light being strong enough to make the race
exciting. He couldn't see how the
Lancer
or any other racer could get
up much speed.

"It's all in the tack, Charles. The crew that gets
the best and most direct push reflection on their sail will also
get the most speed. It takes real skill, Charles, believe me!"

"Go!"
the
signal came from the official starter.

The releases were all thrown at once, and then . .
.

"Hey—" Charlie said happily, "look
at the platform! We're really moving away from it—we're
moving!
And I never
thought we could!"

"We sure are moving!" Biri said, letting out play
on the guidon to the sail that she was controlling.

Dondee adjusted his guidon line to
the big glittering sail. Biri pointed, shooting an impulse to
Charlie, and he quickly paid more attention to the playing out of
his guidon. Watching the maneuvers of a nearby yacht, Charlie
momentarily let their own
Lancer
lose the direct cosmic shots against the sail,
when he didn't keep changing his lead line with the gradual turn of
the craft.

Both Biri and Dondee nodded assuringly to him,
when he

F

yanked in the guidon, rapidly adjusting so that
the great trapezoidal reflector above them squarely faced the
cosmic | rays. The race was well under way. It was every yacht for
itself. Platform after platform swung past, like slowly revolving
islands, first looming large then slowly revolving away behind
them. They were steadily gathering speed on the great oval course
of the Regatta.
Charlie was feeling more and more the thrill of it,
the constant jockeying of the guidon lines for position, ever
trying to keep the mirror sail at right angle to the Sun. Unlike
the other crewmen and Dondee and Biri, Charlie didn't need the
special tinted goggles, for being used to Sun's light he didn't
have to do more than squint a little. He could see perfectly well
in spite of the pale blue brilliance of the Sun's reflection in the
sail.

They were getting better speed
now, gaining slowly on the three yachts ahead of the
Lancer
, as Charlie got
the knack of it. Without any direction other than his friends'
enthusiastic impulses, Charlie knew he was doing all right as a
sailor in the Sun Regatta. Crowds on each nearing space island
seemed to be aware that the new citizen from Little Star was in
the
Lancer
, and
Charlie could feel their shower of impulses and see their waving as
the slim black yacht approached their platform.

From the various concerts, one at least on each
space island, Charlie heard the music as they passed nearby. But
they were all playing the same song. At first, he was inclined to
think they were copying each other, but then he remembered, from
his earlier days among them, just how important and

beloved this particular serenade
was to everyone. The happy serenade to the Sun was one that was
quite familiar to Charlie. It was one they said they had taken from
his own world, many years ago. It was an ancient folk song called
by them the Sunlight Serenade, but on Charlie's world, it was
called O
Sole Mio.

As he was paying too much attention to the music
for a moment, the sharp aft corner of the great sail brushed
lightly across Charlie's sunburned forearm. He looked at it, and
noted the frosty-colored scrape on his arm.
"Phew—boy!" he exclaimed. "That sail's as sharp as
Uncle John's razor used to be!"
Dondee and Biri didn't know what Uncle John's razor
was but they reminded Charlie to be careful, specially on the final
and very sharp turn not too far ahead. They'd be making it soon,
when they swung into the turn for the finish line.

They were third in place, and
Charlie was as excited as his companions. All three were standing
now. Dondee was eagerly juggling his guidon, playing out and taking
in, to urge the last bit of speed out of their swiftly-moving
craft. The fleet black
Lancer
edged up on the number two leader, and Biri
leaned over to the far side to shift the angle for a more direct
angle to the Sun. The sail was a blazing, shimmering blue fire, and
Charlie felt sure now they were getting every last iota of cosmic
power possible. It was working! The
Lancer
slowly passed number two—then
eased into position alongside the lead yacht! It was nose-to-nose
as they entered the final turn for the starting
platform!

"We're doing it—we're going to win!" Biri's impulse
came to Charlie, as she clapped her hands. Then she quickly grabbed
her guidon line again.

"We sure are!" Charlie shouted at
them. All three were standing—waving, as the
Lancer
curved over the finish line
first.

Then it happened. The black
Lancer
was swung about
by Charlie and Dondee, a length ahead of the nearest competitor,
before the crowded platform, for the waving people. In that
instant, Charlie felt Dondee's startled impulse and turned to look.
Released from the constant force of the cosmic rays, the great
silver reflector sail had swung idly about, and the sharp lower
corner had caught Biri off-guard. It struck her in the
neck.

As Charlie looked at her, Biri slumped to the deck,
blood pumping from the vital arterial slash caused by the sail.
Frantic, Dondee dropped down on his knees beside her, even as
Charlie climbed over to them. It took only a moment as Dondee cried
out for help, for Charlie to act. First pressing a finger to her
throat beneath the pulsing wound that bubbled openly—he cut off the
flow of blood that was filling her windpipe, choking her.
Thinking for a second Charlie grabbed the
ball-point pen from his pocket, as Dondee watched wide-eyed.
Charlie then bit off the gold cap, yanking out the pen's inside
tubing with his teeth, leaving only the empty black plastic
cylinder.
"Hold her, Dondee—hold her steady so she can't
move, my finger's slipping." Charlie got a better grip on her small
neck, his thumb pressed more firmly against the torn artery. The
crowd on
the nearby platform stood frozen in stunned silence
since all had been watching the winners and had seen the accident.
Not an impulse stirred in those few tense moments as Charlie
worked. He inserted the pen's hollow cylinder down into the wound,
where the torn edge of Biri's throat was still bubbling from her
weak breathing.
Dondee was already calling for a doctor as Charlie
looked up.

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