camp with Dr. Kutan and a couple of you others. Let’s see how much of this is real, and how much is posturing."
Chow scowled, a pained look on his face. "Don’t feel right, son. But you’re the boss."
Tom smiled and put a gloved hand on his friend’s spacesuited arm. "I’d write a message in the snow, like we did in Antarctica," he joked, referring to an incident that occurred during the atomic earth blaster adventure; "but there isn’t any snow."
Chow looked mollified but said, "Wa-al, if we end up needin’ snow, mebbe that machine o’ your can make us some!"
"Who’ll be going with us, pal?" asked Bud excitedly.
Tom shot Bud an apologetic look and said, "Flyboy, this time I need to ask you to stay behind. I need you high-powered leadership types to take charge of things here, in case—something goes bad."
Though feeling a chill from Tom’s sober words, Bud nodded.
Tom added: "It’s a big responsibility, but I know you’ll have expert help from Mr. Graves." Tom had been careful to speak loudly, so that his transiphone would automatically extend its signal in a wider arc. He was rewarded by noting that Graves suddenly wore a smug smile on his face.
Tom winked at Bud, and his pal broke into a grin. He understood that by leaving his best friend behind, it became easier for Tom to leave Jason Graves out of this delicate negotiation.
"Who will be accompanying us, then?" asked Kutan. "I suggest no more than four altogether."
Tom’s answer was, "For the third person, Col. Northrup, who will be well known to the Brungarians and has status representing the U. S. government. As for the fourth person—"
"Me!" exclaimed Gabriel Knorff. "You’ll want some kind of journalistic record of this historic meeting. Besides, you’re leaving the high-powered leadership types behind, and I’m about as opposite as you can get!"
The young inventor had to smile at Gabe’s peculiar logic. "Okay, Gabe. You can come along as the representative of the average American."
"And besides," commented Jason Graves sourly, "he is obviously the most expendable!"
"We’ll leave at first light," Tom declared, eyeing the sun, which was now down to its last sliver. "While we’re gone, all you scientists and technicians please go on with your work."
Graves spoke up again. "Suppose they attack us while you’re away?"
"I’ll leave you in charge of making that decision, Mr. Graves," Tom replied carefully. "If we’re not back in six hours, radio word to my father and the space station. Then blast off and go into a parallel earth orbit near Little Luna until you receive further orders."
Graves saluted, like a general taking over an army.
The next morning, the expeditioners remaining looked on grimly as Tom, Northrup, Gabe, and Kutan embarked in one of the larger exploration tanks.
"Good luck, buckaroos!" Chow called out.
"Thanks, pard. We may need it," Tom replied tersely as he wriggled into the tank’s airlock. "At least they didn’t follow up on their ultimatum—it looks like you were right, Dr. Kutan, thank goodness."
Other voices joined in a tense send-off. Then the hatch was sealed and the tank ground into action. Tom threw the gearshift into high as Gabe said: "If we’re not back on time, Graves probably will start a war!"
Col. Northrup shook his head. "Naw, I’m sure he’ll obey orders," he declared. "I’ve worked with men like ol’ Jake Graves. He doesn’t wanna stick his neck out too far."
"An astute observation," agreed Kutan.
The vehicle rumbled over rocky rising ground and headed into the beetling hills beyond. The slopes were strewn with boulders and upthrusting clumps of granite, craters of all sizes everywhere. Inside the tank, the three travelers were bumped and jolted by the rough terrain, but their weight was so much less than on earth that they felt no real discomfort.
"Next time, let’s build these jobs with better springs!" Gabe remarked. "Don’t want my cameras to get hurt."
His eyes glued to
Chow scowled, a pained look on his face. "Don’t feel right, son. But you’re the boss."
Tom smiled and put a gloved hand on his friend’s spacesuited arm. "I’d write a message in the snow, like we did in Antarctica," he joked, referring to an incident that occurred during the atomic earth blaster adventure; "but there isn’t any snow."
Chow looked mollified but said, "Wa-al, if we end up needin’ snow, mebbe that machine o’ your can make us some!"
"Who’ll be going with us, pal?" asked Bud excitedly.
Tom shot Bud an apologetic look and said, "Flyboy, this time I need to ask you to stay behind. I need you high-powered leadership types to take charge of things here, in case—something goes bad."
Though feeling a chill from Tom’s sober words, Bud nodded.
Tom added: "It’s a big responsibility, but I know you’ll have expert help from Mr. Graves." Tom had been careful to speak loudly, so that his transiphone would automatically extend its signal in a wider arc. He was rewarded by noting that Graves suddenly wore a smug smile on his face.
Tom winked at Bud, and his pal broke into a grin. He understood that by leaving his best friend behind, it became easier for Tom to leave Jason Graves out of this delicate negotiation.
"Who will be accompanying us, then?" asked Kutan. "I suggest no more than four altogether."
Tom’s answer was, "For the third person, Col. Northrup, who will be well known to the Brungarians and has status representing the U. S. government. As for the fourth person—"
"Me!" exclaimed Gabriel Knorff. "You’ll want some kind of journalistic record of this historic meeting. Besides, you’re leaving the high-powered leadership types behind, and I’m about as opposite as you can get!"
The young inventor had to smile at Gabe’s peculiar logic. "Okay, Gabe. You can come along as the representative of the average American."
"And besides," commented Jason Graves sourly, "he is obviously the most expendable!"
"We’ll leave at first light," Tom declared, eyeing the sun, which was now down to its last sliver. "While we’re gone, all you scientists and technicians please go on with your work."
Graves spoke up again. "Suppose they attack us while you’re away?"
"I’ll leave you in charge of making that decision, Mr. Graves," Tom replied carefully. "If we’re not back in six hours, radio word to my father and the space station. Then blast off and go into a parallel earth orbit near Little Luna until you receive further orders."
Graves saluted, like a general taking over an army.
The next morning, the expeditioners remaining looked on grimly as Tom, Northrup, Gabe, and Kutan embarked in one of the larger exploration tanks.
"Good luck, buckaroos!" Chow called out.
"Thanks, pard. We may need it," Tom replied tersely as he wriggled into the tank’s airlock. "At least they didn’t follow up on their ultimatum—it looks like you were right, Dr. Kutan, thank goodness."
Other voices joined in a tense send-off. Then the hatch was sealed and the tank ground into action. Tom threw the gearshift into high as Gabe said: "If we’re not back on time, Graves probably will start a war!"
Col. Northrup shook his head. "Naw, I’m sure he’ll obey orders," he declared. "I’ve worked with men like ol’ Jake Graves. He doesn’t wanna stick his neck out too far."
"An astute observation," agreed Kutan.
The vehicle rumbled over rocky rising ground and headed into the beetling hills beyond. The slopes were strewn with boulders and upthrusting clumps of granite, craters of all sizes everywhere. Inside the tank, the three travelers were bumped and jolted by the rough terrain, but their weight was so much less than on earth that they felt no real discomfort.
"Next time, let’s build these jobs with better springs!" Gabe remarked. "Don’t want my cameras to get hurt."
His eyes glued to
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