The Scarlet Lake Mystery Part 29

The speed had to be lost, and the only way to lose it was by friction against the air. But uncontrolled friction would turn it into a meteor, so Jerry was letting the heat build up by diving the rocket, then turning it upward again in a long glide, where it could cool in the outer fringes of atmosphere. Little by little it was losing its excess of kinetic energy.

Pegasus went into the atmosphere again in a long, shallow, turning glide. The heat built up until Rick's tense, weakened condition couldn't tolerate it any longer. He slid to the floor, unconscious.

Jerry Lipton had flown everything from small private planes to the latest jet. He had directed drone planes into atomic clouds and on trial bomb runs. But never in his career had he been faced with a piloting job like Pegasus.

It had been difficult enough, with just the rocket to worry about. But with Rick's life in his hands . . .

John Gordon and Gee-Gee Gould were standing by, relaying information to the pilot. Jerry watched the shape on the radar screen climb to higher alt.i.tude and asked, "What's his velocity?"

Dr. Bond was doing the calculations, based on the rocket's travel through the radar beam.

"Just above five thousand miles an hour."

Jerry shook his head. "I can't keep him up there all day. How's the temperature?"

Gee-Gee Gould consulted the temperature trace on the display.

"Cabin temperature is 105 Fahrenheit. The monk is in trouble, too. Skin temperature is just about the same as the cabin. That means Rick is running about the same."

"I'm going to cool 'em off." Jerry worked the controls and the angle of ascent steepened. He asked, without taking his eyes from the scope, "How much can he stand?"

The base physician was standing by. He had been summoned hurriedly. "It depends on the time of exposure. He could take quite high temperatures for a very short time."

"I'm worried," Gordon said bluntly. "He hasn't sent a signal since the last one. He must be badly hurt. According to Cliff's calculations, he pulled nearly thirteen G's on the ascent."

"He can't be in very good shape," the doctor agreed. "Can't you bring him down any faster?"

Jerry Lipton shook his head. "The faster the descent, the higher the heat. If the boy's already badly hurt, running his temperature up won't help his condition any. I'm no doctor, all I can do is try to bring him down in one piece, and that's tough enough for me. Decide, and I'll try to follow your plan."

The doctor went into a consultation with John Gordon, Dr. Bond, and Gee-Gee Gould.

"I see what Lipton means about bringing him down as slowly and smoothly as possible," the doctor said. "True, he's probably in bad shape, both physically and mentally, but we've no reason to a.s.sume any condition that might be more dangerous than the high temperature."

John Gordon nodded. The Spindrift scientist wanted to a.s.sure himself that the boy was all right. But that wasn't reason for taking a chance.

"I agree," he said.

Bond and Gould nodded agreement, and John Gordon pa.s.sed on their decision to Jerry Lipton.

"I think you're being wise," the pilot said. "Okay. Stand by, and I'll do the best I can."

Rick returned to consciousness slowly. He shook his head to clear it, but the grogginess persisted. It was light inside the cabin. He could see reasonably clearly, and he thought dimly that something was wrong.

Then he realized what it was. He was plastered against the side of the cabin!

He realized that Pegasus was no longer a rocket, but a glider, traveling in a horizontal position. One part of the wall had become the deck when the rocket changed from vertical to normal flight. He saw the marmoset, still upright, riding smoothly. The channel supporting the s.p.a.cemonk's little chair had moved as it was supposed to, changing position as the rocket's aspect changed.

The port window nearest Rick was within reach. He hauled himself up. It was like being in a plane. He looked down at the earth from an alt.i.tude of about thirty thousand feet. He was almost there, and the rocket was under control!

A wave of relief swept through him, and he sat down. He was going to make it! The cabin was hot, like a closed attic on a hot July day, but it was bearable. He got back to the port again and watched as Pegasus turned in lazy circles many miles in diameter. The earth was coming closer at a pretty good clip. He was almost comfortable now, knowing that Jerry Lipton had the rocket under control.

Rick closed his eyes, for just a moment. But the moment stretched ahead as his weakened body betrayed him. He didn't realize how much time had pa.s.sed until he opened his eyes again just as Pegasus pulled up into a bank that sent the blood from his head and almost caused him to black out again. But in that instant he knew he was on the landing approach, and that his speed was far too great for comfort.

He had just enough sense left to take the proper precautions. He stretched out on his stomach, feet to the nose of the rocket, and cushioned his head in his hands.

Pegasus flashed low over the hills at the end of Scarlet Lake and touched earth at twelve hundred miles an hour. It bounced, then hit again on the tricycle landing gear. The brakes were applied, gently at first, then with all the strength of the servomotors. The deadly velocity dropped off, but not fast enough. The runway was miles long, but the rocket went over it and into the desert beyond. There was nothing anyone could do.

Rick vaguely felt the smooth runway change to rougher terrain. He felt the impact when Pegasus struck a hummock and tore off the landing gear.

He felt the rocket slow. Then it stopped--too fast! He went flying forward, and he brought his arms up to cushion his head. He smashed with stunning impact into the bottom of the nose radar set, and dropped into infinite blackness.

CHAPTER XX

The Earthman

Rick came back to life briefly. He saw a patch of something white overhead, and after much staring decided it was a ceiling. He turned his head an inch and saw a festoon of rubber tubes and hanging bottles.

Thinking was too difficult. He closed his eyes and drifted off again.

When he again awoke the rubber tubes and bottles were gone. Grinning faces were grouped around him. Some he recognized, others were strangers. That was Scotty, and that was John Gordon, and that was Tom Preston. The others were doctors and nurses.

Rick said, "So we got down in one piece."

"Not exactly one piece." John Gordon smiled.

Scotty asked anxiously, "How do you feel?"

Rick thought about it. He didn't really know how he felt. "Sort of ...

light. I'm floating." Probably he had been asleep for some time. "What time is it?" he asked.

John Gordon gave a relieved chuckle. "Time sense returns. He's improving. You should ask what _day_ it is, Rick. You've been asleep a long time. Pegasus went up three days ago."

"I must have needed sleep," Rick said weakly. Questions crowded into his mind. He asked the most important ones first. "How's the s.p.a.cemonk? Did you get the Earthman?"

"The Prince is fine," John Gordon answered. "Yes, Rick, we got the Earthman. He gave himself away when we realized you were in the rocket.

Now, no more questions. We'll be back again tomorrow and the doctor says we can talk more."

"Just one more question," Rick pleaded. He couldn't sleep without knowing. "Who is the Earthman?"

"Frank Miller."

And that was it, for the time being. Not until he was improved enough for Scotty and Gordon to spend most of the day with him did Rick get the whole story. They brought the s.p.a.cemonk. The little creature petted Rick, then snuggled down and went to sleep against his side.