JOURNEY TO JUPITER

Hugh Walters

www.sfgateway.com

Enter the SF Gateway …

In the last years of the twentieth century (as Wells might have put it), Gollancz, Britain’s oldest and most distinguished science fiction imprint, created the SF and Fantasy Masterworks series. Dedicated to re-publishing the English language’s finest works of SF and Fantasy, most of which were languishing out of print at the time, they were – and remain – landmark lists, consummately fulfilling the original mission statement:

‘SF MASTERWORKS is a library of the greatest SF ever written, chosen with the help of today’s leading SF writers and editors. These books show that genuinely innovative SF is as exciting today as when it was first written.’

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The technology now exists to enable us to make available, for the first time, the entire backlists of an incredibly wide range of classic and modern SF and fantasy authors. Our plan is, at its simplest, to use this technology to build on the success of the SF and Fantasy Masterworks series and to go even further.

Welcome to the new home of Science Fiction & Fantasy. Welcome to the most comprehensive electronic library of classic SFF titles ever assembled.

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Chapter One

“Jupiter—here we come!”

That cheerful announcement was made by Tony Hale, the spaceship’s mechanic. With his three companions he was strapped down on his contour couch as the last seconds before blast-off ticked away. Any moment now the giant rocket motors would roar into life. Then the huge ship would quiver for a few vital seconds before rising slowly and ponderously rom the launching pad. Each moment it would gain speed as t raised itself ever higher on its deafening tail of fire. In a little over a minute it would be well up into the cloudless blue sky, its path marked with a dark trail of smoke. Before he watchers’ eyes it would get smaller and smaller until at last it disappeared.

Four human beings would, for the first time, be on a journey to the vast mysterious planet.

Along with Tony was Chris Godfrey, the young physicist who was leader of the expedition, together with Morrison Kant, the crew-cut American with broad shoulders and a perpetual grin, and Serge Smyslov, the dark, reserved Russian. All four had made many space trips together. Not only were hey a well-knit, efficient team, they were the closest possible friends. Each had given up counting the number of times his life had been saved by one or other of his companions. Each knew that he would gladly give his own life to save that of a friend.

UNEXA, the United Nations Exploration Agency, had commissioned the undertaking. Long months of planning had preceded it and now all was set at Cape Kennedy for the great moment.

“Zero!”

The disembodied voice making the count-down called out the fateful word and, involuntarily, all four members of the crew held their breath. This was the moment when disaster could occur if the rocket motor failed to ignite properly. Then the expedition would be over before it ever left the ground. But everything went well, and as the quartet felt their ship begin to move they heaved a sigh of relief.

For the next few minutes they would all be held down by the terrific thrust of the motor. Until the giant booster had burnt out they would have difficulty in moving and speaking. Then, as this first stage of the rocket fell away from the rest, they would have a few moments’ freedom until the second stage ignited. For a further four and a half minutes the ship and crew would be subject to more fierce acceleration. Nine minutes after leaving the ground the rocket would have achieved escape velocity.

Chris Godfrey turned his head with an effort. He wished to assure himself that all was right with his crew. In turn each one raised a hand to signify that, apart from the discomfort of the acceleration, all was well. Forcing the muscles of his mouth and tongue to work, Chris reported to Control that everything was O.K.

At last, after exactly the right interval, all pressure died away and the crew could move and talk freely once more.

“Everyone fit?” enquired Chris as they all began unstrapping themselves. There was an enthusiastic chorus of affirmation as they worked to free themselves.

“Right. You all know what to do,” the leader called as he threw off the last strap. Then the most fantastic thing happened. Instead of sliding off his couch and standing on the cabin floor, Chris hung suspended, and without visible support, a few inches above his couch. He was in the condition of weightlessness—or free fall as it was called by astronauts. Though they had experienced it scores of times before, and for considerable periods, the crew never failed to show their high spirits at the onset of this strange effect. A puff of air from the lips was sufficient to send a crewman sailing gracefully away until the cabin wall stopped him. Moving his arms or legs was enough to send him twisting and turning in a most hilarious manner.

“Shoes on,” Chris called, and with the others he fixed on the special footwear with magnetic soles. This enabled them all to walk much as they did on Earth, except that they could also walk on the walls and ceiling like flies.

There followed a busy time for the crew. Each had his own jobs to do, the most important of which was to send masses of information back to Earth. Soon the giant computer at the Cape would digest this, together with much more from ground tracking stations over a wide area. Then it would pronounce whether the ship—official name “Jupiter I”—was on course or whether corrections were to be made. A great deal depended on the accurate work of the crew during this early stage in their flight.

For the next half-hour, while Tony was doing a routine inspection for any damage during blast-off, Chris, Morrey and Serge did their star sitings and other observations which they radioed back to Earth. It would be a great relief when they were safely on course. Then they could switch on the ion motor which alone made their expedition possible.

All the preliminary readings had now been completed. Tony had found no damage to the pumps, valves or fuel supply. They could take things easy while the computer did its work. They could even have a little refreshment, for it was many hours since they’d eaten and they all felt rather hungry.

“Roast beef, pork chops, or the leg of a turkey?” asked Tony, who was in charge of rations.

This was a standing joke among the astronauts, for during their long voyage food would consist mainly of tablets. True, they were flavoured like the delicacies Tony had mentioned, but this was only to give a little variety to their diet. Not until they returned to Earth once more would they indulge in the luxury of meat and veg. Neither could they drink any liquid from a cup or glass. Under the present weightless conditions free fluids would break up into innumerable tiny droplets which would fill the cabin like so many floating diamonds. All drinks had to be taken from a plastic container and squeezed into the mouth.

Their space meal over, the crew spent the time discussing their expedition while they awaited the result from the computer. Though they had been well briefed, Chris believed that they couldn’t be too familiar with the programme ahead.

“Tell us what you know about Jupiter,” he said to Tony.

“Back to school again,” Tony sighed. In a high-pitched voice, the imitation of a child reciting a lesson in class, he reeled off some facts about the giant planet.

“Jupiter is the largest planet in the solar system,” he piped. “It is twice as large as all the other planets put together. Jupiter is thirteen hundred times as large as the Earth and it is more than five times as far from the Sun.”

Chris and the others smiled their approval as Tony paused for breath.

“Full marks so far,” Morrey called. “Carry on.”

“Jupiter takes nearly twelve years to travel round the Sun,” Tony continued flutingly, “but it spins round on its axis faster than any other planet. Its atmosphere is ammonia and methane, and it has a large red spot.”

“There,” he concluded in his normal voice, “that’s all I know. One of you have a go.”

“Whose turn?” Chris asked.

“I’ll have a try,” Morrey grinned. “Jupiter, the king of planets, has twelve attendant moons. They vary in size from a few miles in diameter to something larger than our Moon. The names of the four largest are Io, Europa, Ganymede and Callisto. Io is the nearest of these to Jupiter. Now over to you, Serge.”

“Our objective, being so large, has a much stronger gravitational pull than the Earth,” said Serge. “Gravity at its surface is more than two and a half times what it is on Earth. Therefore a rocket would have to travel five times as fast to escape from Jupiter as we’ve had to do to get away from Earth.”

A voice from the loudspeaker interrupted any further recital of facts about the king of planets. It was Control telling the crew that their flight path was extremely accurate and needed only a slight correction. Details of the necessary procedure were given. A short burst from one of the small lateral rockets would be sufficient, but it was important that Jupiter I’s course should not be deflected too much. A rocket-burst that was too long would push them past their correct trajectory into a faulty path again.

Chris remembered how, in his early rocket days, he’d had to make just such a correction. Lack of experience had caused him to see-saw backwards and forwards across the correct path before finally settling on it. He didn’t want such a mistake to mar the present manœuvre. True, there was now a built-in time switch for use with lateral rockets, but there was still a margin of error and ultimately it depended on the leader to set the ship on its correct flight path.

Glancing at the note he’d made of his instructions, Chris made his way to the panel of switches controlling the small side rockets. Selecting one which would ignite a lateral in the correct position, he set the timer and pressed the switch. A second and a half elapsed before there was any response, and it was the delay in this action, which varied each time, for which the astronaut had to allow. Quick as a flash Chris altered the timer to give the rocket its full burst. A slight quiver was felt in the cabin as their course was corrected.

“Think we’ve done it?” Tony asked.

“We’ll know soon,” answered Chris. “Control will tick us off if I’ve overshot the mark.”

There was nothing to do but wait—wait while the men at the Cape plotted their new course.

“A.O.K.,” the welcome news came over the radio soon afterwards, and the quartet in the space ship’s cabin cheered with relief. Of course there would have to be other corrections later on, but not until Jupiter I was drawing close to its objective.

“Now for the ion motors,” called Chris, and the crew set about starting up this new method of propulsion, which alone made long interplanetary journeys possible.

Unlike the rocket motor, which obtained its terrific thrust by burning high energy fuel and oxidant for a relatively short time, the ion motor provided only a gentle push from its stream of ionised particles. However, the effectiveness of the ion motor lay in the fact that it could be run almost indefinitely, and its small but persistent thrust could build up fantastic velocities.

“Motor on,” Morrey called out a few moments later as the crew completed the drill for starting it up. But there was really no need for him to tell the rest, for they could all feel the low gravity which the motor induced.

“It’s like walking on the Moon,” Tony declared as he removed his magnetic shoes. His stride across the cabin had lifted him a foot from the floor, just as he’d found it do on Earth’s satellite.

“You don’t know how near you are to the truth,” Chris Godfrey smiled. “This new motor, more powerful than any other, gives a thrust of one sixth ‘g’, almost the same as the pull one feels on the lunar surface. Be careful you don’t bump your head.”

The warning was by no means unnecessary. Under the light artificial gravity provided by the ion motor’s low thrust, it was all too easy to misjudge any movement, and for the crew members to find themselves colliding with each other or parts of the cabin. Soon they would get used to the strange conditions, but for a time would have to take care that their muscles, conditioned by earthly gravity, didn’t play tricks. They would have to avoid sharp movements, or the results could be quite painful.

Their course settled, the ion motor running smoothly, Chris and his companions could now settle down to the routine of the voyage. Apart from attention to their instruments and regular reports to Control, their main task now was to keep themselves fit and, most difficult of all, to avoid boredom. Each one of them secretly dreaded what might happen if boredom set in and nerves became irritated. Elaborate plans had been made to prevent it, but then no one had ever made a journey like this before.

Fortunately all four astronauts had previous experience of being confined in a space ship’s cabin. On journeys to Venus and Mars they had been shut up together in a small space for many days. But they had never undertaken such a voyage as this one would be to the Sun’s mightiest planet.

“Just how long will this trip take us?” asked Tony, voicing the question they all felt to be the most important.

Chris had expected the query. The answer depended upon the velocity to be reached by their ship. In all their briefings at Cape Kennedy, and elsewhere, no one had ever mentioned this important aspect of their journey. Not even Chris’s friend, Sir George Benson, had referred to it when he came to see them shortly before launching. Each of the crew had wondered why, but they had all tried to conceal their concern about this strange lack of information. Once when Chris had asked Sir George, the scientist had avoided giving a direct answer.

“Oh, we’ll let you know once you’re on the way,” he’d replied airily.

This wasn’t like any previous voyage they’d made. Before, the flight programme had always been worked out meticulously. They’d known to within a few minutes just when they would arrive at their destination, and even had a close estimate of when they would return to Earth. This time they had no such knowledge.

Was there anything sinister about this? Was it that the men who had sent them thought little of their chances of survival?

Even as this thought forced itself into their minds they rejected it. Knowing Sir George Benson and the other responsible scientists as they did, the crew were sure that unless there had been a very good chance of a safe return, the expedition would never have been mounted. Before, this same quartet had sometimes chafed under what they had regarded as the unnecessary caution of Sir George Benson and his colleagues. Why, then, was it that the chief scientist was being so cagey about something which he must have known was puzzling them so much?

It was time they found out.