Astounding Science Fiction (UK Edition) — page 10: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

8 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE-FICTION then, after shifting the quills, the pantos began sketching in the vegetable matter, reporting only what was composed of cellu- lose. The forests took shape, but not as clusters of individual trees. The scale was too small for that. They came out as masses of greenish glass or as a thin glaze where only grasses were. - ; “Hey,” exclaimed Travis, pointing. “What’s that there—another shadow?” A clean V-shaped vacancy had been left by the moving arms—a tapering semi- conical tunnel through the tree mass where it intersected it, and barrenness beyond. It was far too regular to have occurred in nature. The appearance of it puzzled Hartley, for it terminated where it met the face of a mesa he had run in earlier. That would indicate that the unseen obstruction was softer than the sedimentary rocks but harder than wood. Hartley twisted a dial. The shadow persisted. He twisted other dials and stepped up the power. Nothing went through. Whatever it was was exceedingly hard. “A ship!” said Travis, as the outlines of it suddenly began to grow under the weaving pantos. It was a cigar-shaped affair, and beside it were a pair of flat objects of the same material, Its lines were familiar. It was Driscoll’s Pathfinder, and the two other objects were his crawlers. Their steel effectively masked what lay beyond them. “It must have just landed,” said Hartley. “It couldn’t have been there before or I couldn’t have shown the mesa complete.” “He used our beam to come in on, the skunk,” said Travis, huskily, and wheeled toward the hatch. “What are you going to do” “Call up the chief umpire and protest.” The umpire answered soothingly. “Now, now, Mr. Travis—there is no need of distressing yourself. Venus is big. Tre- mendously big. There’s room enough for both of you. I would suggest that you make contact and reach an agreement. One of you go one way, the other the other. After all, Mr. Driscoll has suffered terrific losses in ships and men and you can afford to be generous. As for that, there is nothing in the rules to cover a conflict of this sort. Later you may take your complaint to the courts, but it is beyond my _ jurisdiction. Moreover, no part of Venus belongs to you yet—not until you have made an adequate survey.” “But we have,” insisted Travis, raging. “My partner and I have developed an in- strument that maps in total darkness, or through solid barriers for that matter. It is by means of that that we discovered this trespasser. I demand—”’ “Ridiculous,” said the umpire, crisply. “My assistants have reported conditions down there. You are overruled.” The click of the severed connection left Travis in a state of sputtering fury. The umpire’s stupid action was not final, of course. A display of the map would show his error. But Driscoll’s intrusion was not only not sportsmanlike, it had an ominous quality. For he had power and the cunning to exploit every technicality. It would have been bad enough to have him on the other side of the planet, for sooner or later they were bound to meet. But to enter into con- flict at the very outset was bad. Very bad. Travis strode to the safe and took out the rules. He scanned them, fuming, but in the end had to concede that the umpire was partly right. The rules were silent on the point. Everything hinged on the quality of the survey made. The best mapped claim would win, regardless of priority. Travis relaxed a little. In that field the Maggy should win hands down over the clumsy bolometric methods Driscoll would prob- ably employ. Hartley agreed with him in deciding to ignore Driscoll for the time being, and carry on. “Tomorrow,” Travis declared that night, as the three of them were at supper, “we will stow the topographic map in the hold, dismantle the Maggy, and move on to the far edge of what we've already done and add another sheet from there. Lorimer will have to stay here to maintain outside com- munications. We'll keep in touch with him by means of our walkie-talkies.” Lorimer nodded agreement, when Travis suddenly sat bolt upright. “Psst! Do you hear what I hear?” Outside was the rush and hiss of the rain that never stopped falling, but over it was a louder sound—the rumble and grating of heavy gears and the burbling of an exhaust pipe half submerged in slime. A crawler was coming. Then they heard a hail, faint and unintelligible. The crawler noises grew louder, then ceased. Someone was rapping on the hull. “In the ship there—ship, ahoy!” came the hail again. Travis rose scowling and spat viciously. The voice was Driscoll’s. Under the distress clauses of the inter- planetary code, he could not be denied en- trance, but Travis’ greeting when he opened the lock was frosty. conmicbooao S (©)