TO THE SONS OF TOMORROW
BY IRVING COX, JR.
ILLUSTRATED BY BEECHAM
The Olympus could never return to her home planet;
her crew was destined to live out their lives among
the savages of this new planet. But savages could be
weaned from their superstitions and set on the road
to knowledge, Theusaman thought. Or could they?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Rocket Stories, July 1953.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Baiel had always shown me the degree of respect prescribed in the SpaceCode. Aboard the Olympus we clashed only once, and that was when Iordered the emergency landing.
"You've no right to risk it, Captain Theusaman," he protested.
"We can't do anything else," I answered. "We're ninety-three millionlight years away from the Earth, and twenty-five outside the patrolarea."
"Sir, this star sector is totally new to us!" Baiel was standing bythe control panel, a tall, thin man in his early thirties. His facewas hollowly angular, sun-bronzed and capped with a brush of thick,black hair. He looked away from the sight dome and I saw bitternessand anger blazing in his blue eyes. "This is an exploratory expedition,Captain Theusaman. We were sent out to record the conditions beyond theperiphery of the Earth charts, and it's vitally important for us toreturn with the data."
"I'm aware of that, Baiel."
"Then face the facts. We've blown our dorsal tubes and lost ouremergency fuel. Unless we restock with fissionable material, we've nochance of getting back to Earth. You believe we can restock on thatunknown planet out there, but—"
"I know we can. I've seen the spectroanalysis; it doesn't lie."
"Not in the statement of data. But—with the best of intentions—aman can lie in the generalization he draws from the data. Thespectroanalysis tells us that planet out there has an atmosphere likeours. It tells us there's an abundance of fissionable material in themineral chemistry. But suppose it can't be recovered with any of themachines we have aboard? If we land, we'll have no chance of risingagain."
"It's a necessary risk."
"No, Captain Theusaman! We have almost enough energy in our functioningtubes to reach the outer fringe of the patrol area. From there we'dbe close enough to beam an emergency call back to Earth. One of thepatrols might pick it up in time to—"
"Might," I snapped. "I'm glad you recognize that as a possibility,Baiel."
"Even if none of us survives, our data will still be there; sooner orlater an Earth ship would find the Olympus."
"You risk more than I do, Baiel."
"But our information would be saved for the scientific processors."
"I prefer to save the men. We know they can live on that planet, evenif we find no fissionable material. The issue is settled."
"There's one other consideration, Captain Theusaman. With our dorsaltubes gone, we can't maneuver. Even you can understand, sir, that acrash-landing—"
"I've given the orders, Baiel. Will you execute them, or must I haveyou cabinized for insubordination?"
"Very well, sir."
He departed without saluting.
Baiel was right, on both counts. I knew there was a chance he might be.Yet I had made emergency landings before. Nothing had ever gone wrong.
This time it did. As soon as we nosed into the stratosphere we were introuble. The Olympus angled down too sharply. The gyrometers failed,since they were engineered to make use of the compensating drive fromthe dorsal tubes. I tried to bring the ship up into the freedom ofspace again, but the best I could manage was