Rocket Jumper Page 5

  people who work here.”

  “That’s what makes it profitable,” Jones said. “Well, looks like all hands are fed and watered orCoked .

  See you later.”

  “Thanks again for the drinks.” Rick carried the Cokes inside the gate, pausing while the guard inspected the badge clipped to his shirt pocket.

  He estimated that it would take a half hour to get toScarletLake , the big rocket base to the northwest of Indian Springs. Would their Building Ten badges be good for entry? He’d have to ask Aster. Also, John Gordon had said something about a jeep. They’d have to arrange for the jeep before the end of the day.

  If they worked for two hours atScarletLake , that would leave an hour for returning to the lodge plus a little spare time. He could call the Winstons and tell them that Scotty and he would be home at eight.

  Rick was grinning as he walked toward Captain Aster’s office. The Brant luck had held. His boss, and his intelligence contact, had turned out to be a rocket engineer with an interest in the belt. How lucky could he get? Then he sobered, because-although he wasn’t superstitious-he did believe in the laws of probability. Good luck and bad luck, when pure luck was involved, tended to even out. He didn’t want a misfortune to balance his good luck and spoil the trip I

  CHAPTER VII

  The Circular File

  The days had settled into a routine by the end of the first week. Rick and Scotty reported to Building Ten each morning and made endless dry runs with the equipment. But the run with the jet was postponed, because work on the Ramshorn engine was slightly behind schedule. Each day atnoon they lunched from the Jones Boys wagon, where the proprietor continued to work endlessly on his fishing rod.

  He had taken the guides off the pole and replaced them with fresh glue and wrapping, disassembled the reel, cleaned it, and was now in the process of reassembling it.

  In the same circumstances, Rick would have passed the time reading or designing something, but he guessed the Jones Boy liked to work with his hands. The wagon was there after work, too, when the Building Ten crew stopped for a drink or a light snack. Rick, Scotty, and Aster usually bought something before starting out forScarletLake .

  The resourceful captain had discovered an Air Force regulation that permitted official cooperation with student rocketeers, including provision of supplies and facilities. Under Aster’s guidance, Rick drew up a formal proposal, which was accepted by the Senior Air Force Officer atScarletLake . This made the rocket belt an officially approved project. It was only necessary for Rick to write a formal report when the experiment ended. Of course it removed the project from his school competition, but he didn’t mind that.

  Aster’s first step was to hunt through the debris of broken rockets and discarded parts in theScarletLake junk pile until he found two stainless-steel spheres in good condition. Such spheres were common in rocketry. Usually they held nitrogen or helium under pressure, far higher pressure than the Page 27

  rocket belt needed. Aster arranged to have them inspected by radiograph, and then got a specialist to weld the one weak spot the inspectors found.

  Rick and Scotty drilled holes in the top of the belt fuel tanks, found valves and fittings, and placed the spheres on top of the tanks. Valves in the spheres controlled the flow of nitrogen into the fuel tanks, allowed the spheres to be filled, and air to be bled off during the filling.

  Aster, meanwhile, found other materials in the scrap pile, and obtained two critical valves by requisition.

  By Friday night the new assemblies were in place, and the captain requisitioned hydrazine, nitrogen, and catalyst for use on the following day.

  As the boys drove to Aspen Lodge a bit late for dinner, Rick said, “It’s better than the original design.

  For one thing, the tanks can be filled without spilling fuel. And we can bleed the air from them just by opening the valves and letting a little nitrogen flow.”

  “But how will it fly?” Scotty demanded.

  “Exactly the same.The only difference to the pilot will be that he has to useless throttle to get the amount of thrust he needs.”

  “Going to try a tethered flight first?”

  Rick shook his head. “No need. It won’t be any different than flying with peroxide at Spindrift. But you and Captain Aster should try one flight with safety lines first, just to get the feel of the belt”

  “And so should the girls,” Scotty reminded.

  “Uh-uh.”

  Rick had promised, and that was that. He wished he hadn’t. But working atScarletLake each night had been a violation of his promise to Barby and Jan that they would be included in after-work activities, so he had to get their agreement-which had meant promising that they could try the belt as soon as all bugs were out of it.

  As they approached the Indian Springs gate, Scotty snapped his fingers. “Hey! We didn’t bring that book on amplifier maintenance we wanted to study over the weekend.”

  Rick looked at his watch. “Let’s go get it. We can call the lodge at the same time to say we’re on our way and to wait for dinner.”

  He swung the jeep into the entrance, showed his badge and Scotty’s, and was allowed to continue to Building Ten. The gate was locked, but the guard opened it after examining their passes and noting their business in his log.

  The keys to the outside rooms were racked in Murphy’s office. The office door was left unlocked, since it was within sight of the gate guards at all times. Rick pushed it open and stepped inside.

  A thin, redheaded young man, dressed in the khaki work clothes of a civilian employee, jumped to his feet as Rick entered. He had been kneeling at Murphy’s wastebasket, and Rick saw that he had smoothed out crumpled papers from the basket and spread three of them on the edge of the desk.

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  “Who are you?” Rick demanded.

  The young man swallowed. “I’m the janitor. I was just . . . just separating the classified stuff from the rest.” His voice grew stronger as he talked. “The classified stuff has to be put in the incinerator. The rest just goes into trash bags for collection.”

  “I see.” Rick might have been more convinced if the redhead hadn’t looked so guilty. He took the workroom key from the board and went back outside. For a moment he debated, while Scotty waited in the jeep, then he walked to the gate and called the guard.

  “Is it okay for that redheaded guy to be fooling around in the office?”

  The guard nodded. “He’s on the list as a janitor, and the photo on his badge agrees with the one in our files. So he’s okay.”

  “Thanks,” Rick said. “I just wanted to be sure.”

  They retrieved the instruction book, which carried no classification, and Rick returned the key to the office. The redhead was now busily sweeping.

  Scotty had shifted to the driver’s seat. He rolled through the main gate as Rick swung aboard. Rick outlined what he had seen of the redhead’s actions, adding, “He was sweeping up when I got back.”

  “It’s amazing what people throw into the circular file,” Scotty said, using the jargon for wastebasket.

  “There was a time when spies actually used to buy wastepaper and go through it. But the guard said this boy was on legitimate business and his badge checked. So what’s the problem?”

  “Just the look on his face.He looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.”

  “Maybe you startled him,” Scotty suggested.

  “Maybe.”But Rick wasn’t satisfied. He would let the matter rest for the moment, but he intended to ask a few questions when work resumed on Monday.

  As it turned out, it wasn’t necessary to wait. When they reached Aspen Lodge they found John Gordon with Mrs. Winston and the girls. Winston was missing.

  “Parnell is stuck,” Gordon said. “It’s his part of the project that’s holding us up, so the Jackass Flats crew is working all weekend.”

  “And it’s the team of Rick and Scotty that’s holding us up right now,” Barby said. “And w
e’re starved.”

  “Ten minutes,” Scotty replied. “Time to clean up and change, and we’ll be with you.”

  “Take fifteen,” Jan suggested. “If you dive into the pool, it will cool you off. We have time. Dr. Gordon is taking us all to Death Valley Inn for dinner.”

  “Okay. We’re on our way. Dr. Gordon, can you join us while we dress? Something we’d like to talk about.”

  The scientist nodded. “All right, Rick.As soon as you’ve had your dip.”

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  A quick shower and a quicker dive into the pool made the boys feel like new, and took only fifteen minutes. As they dressed, Rick told Gordon about the redhead.

  “I’ve seen him around,” Gordon said. “He’s part of the crew, and it’s true that classified waste is sorted from unclassified. But the secretaries usually do that. Maybe he was instructed to be certain.”

  “Could be,” Rick had to agree. “But isn’t it worth a check?”

  “Yes, I think it is. Take it up with Aster. He’ll follow through. Now, let’s get going. I’ve brought a sedan, but it will still take us a while to get toDeath Valley . We don’t want to be out too late if you’re going to fly the rocket belt tomorrow.”

  “Ready,” Scotty announced.

  Rick finished stuffing a clean handkerchief into his pocket. “Lead on to where the chow is.”

  CHAPTER VIII

  The Jones Boys Get Social

  The belt flew. It flew better than Rick’s expectations. While Captain Aster held the stopwatch and signal pistol, Rick climbed above the assembly shed atScarletLake , circled over the launching pad where a great, winged rocket called Pegasus had once stood-a rocket on which the boys had worked-and returned for a smooth landing with time to spare.

  In the audience, even though it was Saturday and a day off, were several men with whom he and Scotty had worked. Gordon, Mrs. Winston, Barby, and Jan were there, too, excited at the prospect of trying the belt themselves. Two of the fueling crew had brought a tank truck of hydrazine and two large containers of nitrogen; they had volunteered because they wanted to see the belt operate.

  After the congratulations, Captain Aster told Rick, “I have a hunch we may have enough fuel for a little more than two minutes, and there’s only one way to find out. That’s to make a bench test.”

  “When?”Rick asked.

  “Right now.”

  Scotty finished loosening Rick from the harness. “How do we do this?”

  “There’s a test stand for small rockets behind Building Two. We can lash the belt to the stand, turn it on full power, and hold a stopwatch on it.”

  There were plenty of hands to help. The two fuel men refueled the belt, while some of Rick’s old acquaintances went for steel cable with which to attach the belt to the stand. Rick got out of the hot flight clothes.

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  The belt was loaded in Aster’s jeep and the group repaired to the rear of Building Two, an assembly shop for small sounding rockets. Behind the building was a concrete pad from which a tall pedestal of reinforced concrete rose. The front of the pedestal was about six feet wide, and covered with inset bolts, rings, and devices for attaching steel bands. A residue of black particles and signs of scorching showed where other tests had taken place.

  One of theScarletLake crew went into Building Two and brought out two heavy U-shaped steel bars, which he attached to the face of the pedestal, using fittings set into the concrete. The belt was mounted upside down, with steel cables running through the corset annholes and others around the tanks. The cables had screw fittings on the ends, and these were pulled up tightly by wrenches.

  “Turn it on to full thrust when I call time,” Captain

  Aster directed, “then step to one side. Give it plenty of clearance-just in case the belt loosens a little and sprays hot exhaust. You’ll have time before thrust builds to maximum. Everyone else step back.”

  When Rick was in position, hand on the thrust control, he looked around to be sure everyone was out of range, then watched Captain Aster. The officer lifted his stopwatch, called “Time,” and pressed the button to start the watch.

  Rick opened the control wide and backed quickly out of the way as the fuel was driven into the catalyst bed by the nitrogen in the bottles. With a roar the hydrazine decomposed into nitrogen and hydrogen.

  The exhaust nozzles spewed forth hot gases.

  It was the first time Rick had actually seen the belt operate and he gulped. He hadn’t realized the hot torches of gas were quite that bright-or that close to the seat of his pants. Fortunately, the nozzles directed the exhaust away; otherwise, his legs would have been burned.

  Two minutes seemed like an eternity while waiting for the fuel to run out. The belt stopped abruptly, and Aster clicked the watch, a big grin on his face. “Two minutes and twenty seconds I”

  “Great!” Scotty called.

  Rick agreed.

  Barby and Jan rushed forward. “When do we get to try it?” Barby asked.

  Aster beckoned to Rick, and the boy joined the officer without replying. Aster lowered his voice. “Are you fussy about others trying it in captive flight?”

  “Not especially,” Rick replied. “Why?”

  “You have a lot of helpers. We have more fuel than we can burn in a week, and I’ve had everything rigged in Building Two. It will be perfectly safe.”

  Rick looked at his watch. “It’s onlynine o’clock . Plenty of time for everyone who has helped, to give the belt a try on the tethers. And we’ll still have time for a few free flights after lunch.”

  “Good. Let’s get at it.”

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  The volunteer helpers were already releasing the belt from the test stand, and the two fueling men were standing by to refill with nitrogen and hydrazine. They were in protective clothing, because hydrazine is every bit as corrosive as peroxide. Rick walked over to them. “Would you two like to try the belt with safety lines hooked on?”

  “You bet,” one said quickly, and his mate echoed, “Just try me!”

  “You’ve earned it,” Rick told them. “If you’ll keep refueling, we can let everyone who has helped try it out.”

  “We’ll stick,” the first crewman assured him. His mate nodded.

  Inside Building Two, a great shed three stories high, preparations already had been made. A winch ran on a track overhead, nearly sixty feet above the floor. Its cable and safety hook dangled in the center of the floor, within easy reach. Laid out on the floor were two thin, nylon-covered cables with safety snaps.

  As soon as refueling was finished, Rick and Scotty helped Captain Aster into the harness. The thin lines were snapped to the sides of his linesman’s belt, and the cable from the overhead winch into the ring between the two fuel tanks. The new nitrogen spheres were far enough apart so that they did not interfere.

  Rick and Scotty went through the check list, then Rick asked, “Are you sure the winchman knows what to do?”

  “I’m sure,” Aster assured him. “It’s a high-speed winch, and he handles it like an expert handles a fishing rod.”

  Rick looked up to where the winch operator was seated in a sort of balcony over the side of the building. “Ready?”

  The winchman held up thumb and forefinger closed in a circle, the near-universal signal for “okay.”

  “You’re on your own, Captain,” Rick said. He and Scotty picked up the two safety lines and moved back. One of the volunteers, an Air Force major, held the stopwatch.

  Aster’s flight was a bit wobbly until he got the hang of controlling himself by balance, then everything went perfectly. When he finally landed without a bump, he was grinning from ear to ear.

  Rick and Scotty helped him remove the belt, and the two refuelers carried it outside for reloading. Aster just said, “Marvelous experience.Really marvelous.” He repeated it three times. Rick knew exactly how he felt.

  “You next?”Rick asked Scotty.

  The dark-haired boy shook his head. “I agree
d to yield my place in line to Barby. There’s plenty of time.”

  “And Barby yielded to me,” Jan said. “I’m next.”

  Both girls had worn jodhpurs, and someone had supplied them with coveralls to put on over their Page 32

  clothes. Even in the shapeless work garment, Jan was slim as a willow.

  “Sure you can hold one hundred and thirty pounds on your back, Jan?” Rick asked.

  The two spheres had added pounds, and Rick knew from experience that the rig was heavy, even for him.

  “I can try,” Jan said firmly.

  The fuel crew came back with the belt, and Rick and Scotty buckled Jan into it. “Braceyourself ,” Rick warned, and they slowly let her take the full weight. Jan balanced herself firmly, and with natural grace her body shifted to adjust to the heavy load.

  Rick and Scotty went through the check list, while Aster made sure the winchman was ready and the stopwatch reset to zero.

  “You know what to do,” Rick told Jan. “You’ll find yourself balancing naturally. Don’t worry.”

  Jan patted the crash helmet, then took a firm grip on the controls. “I’ll be fine, Rick.”

  “Okay.” He stepped back and took the safety line. “You’re on your own.”

  Jan’s flight was even smoother than Aster’s, probably because of her natural sense of balance. Even so, it looked incongruous to Rick to see the slim, feminine figure attached to the maze of tanks and plumbing.

  Somehow, girls and the Plumber’s Nightmare didn’t go together.

  Barby tried the belt next, and the two girls were equally ecstatic over the sensation of flying. Then Scotty made his flight, and one after another of the several helpers flew the belt. The winchman was last. He picked his own substitute, one of the Building Two crew, and made a perfect flight.

  John Gordon and Mrs. Winston had gone to the communications room to talk with Parnell Winston at Jackass Flats. They returned in time for the scientist to try the belt before the group broke up for lunch.

  Mrs. Winston was disappointed at not seeing the girls fly, but Rick said, “If there’s time, they can make a free flight this afternoon. Are you sure you don’t want to try the belt?”