Read Online Alan E. Nourse by Trouble on Titan - Free Book Online
Authors: Trouble on Titan
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between two cliffs; the half-track rumbled toward it.
Then,
quite suddenly, the men heard an unearthly screech in their ears, and the
little jet plane zoomed in close over them, turned a flip, and zoomed back,
still closer. The Colonel stared at the plane as it skimmed over, not twenty
feet above them, and then turned to Torm in alarm. "What
was that?"
Torm frowned, staring through the plexiglass panel at the
little plane as it made a graceful arc in the sky, and raced down in front of
them, zigzagging across their path. "That's odd," he said.
"That's my son's ship. An old lifeboat he begged off one of the supply
ships and rebuilt for an exploring scooter. But I don't know what he's trying to do—"
The
ship was indeed behaving most oddly. It swooped down swiftly, coming so close
that the men in the half-track gripped their supports, half-expecting it to
crash into their top; then it whizzed over and sped for a hundred yards or so
down along the valley floor before them, zigzagging across their path as
"before. The huge cleft between the cliffs ahead was closer now, and the
half-track lumbered along the path, with the little jet doing its strange
maneuverings ahead of them as they went.
"What
is he trying to do—signal us?" The Colonel was half out of his seat as the
plane zoomed overhead again.
Torm shook his head. "I—I don't think so.
He'd drop a flare if he wanted us to stop—"
"Well, he's going to
kill us— look
at that!"
The
plane almost struck the valley floor that time. Torm's breath hissed between his teeth, and his foot slammed down on the brake as the
little jet plunged down to what appeared almost certain disaster; then, quite
suddenly, it lifted itself again, and zipped up high through the gorge ahead. Torm muttered something under his breath, his face dark.
"He's crazy!" the
Colonel breathed.
"He's
up to something." Torm shook his head again as the half-track skidded down a bank toward
the gorge. "He's a skillful flier, but he knows better than
that."
"But what—" The plane had circled
around and made another run through the cleft, somewhat lower, and on less of
an angle than the first.
Tuck
had been staring at the plane silently for several minutes. "Looks to me
like he's scouting the path for us!" he exclaimed suddenly. "Didn't
you see that? He's cutting in as low as he dares, and zigzagging along the
floor—"
"But that's
ridiculous. There's nothing—"
The
Colonel leaned forward sharply. "Tuck's right," he said. "He is scouting—"
The
little jet had just made another run through the cleft, not a hundred yards
ahead of them, and started down into the valley below. Then, almost as an afterthought,
David brought the ship up high, and raced over behind the half-track. With a
whine the ship skimmed along the ravine, quite low, and then zoomed down until
it almost touched the ground; suddenly it swung directly into the half-track's
path, and buzzed through the gorge ahead of them, not four feet off the ground—
And
on the tail of the jet there was a blinding, purple flash, and a huge roar, and
the entire gorge went up in a fury of purple fire and gray-white smoke. In
horrible slow-motion, the cliffs on either side of the gorge crumbled from the
concussion, heaping tons of rock down into the pathway, in the exact spot where
the half-track would have been just a few minutes later. The concussion wave
caught the jet as it zipped through, and the little plane went into a series of
sickening rolls, then panned out and slid into a crash landing somewhere
behind the pillar of fire and smoke that was rising from the gorge—
Torm slammed on his brakes, and shoved the halftrack
into reverse, his face white as putty. Frantically he backed the machine away
from the pillar of fury in the gorge and started it up a flanking path, up a
sharp declivity that would take it around the gorge to the right. Tuck held on
with both hands as the halftrack clambered up the unbroken path, engines roaring,
bouncing all
Then,
quite suddenly, the men heard an unearthly screech in their ears, and the
little jet plane zoomed in close over them, turned a flip, and zoomed back,
still closer. The Colonel stared at the plane as it skimmed over, not twenty
feet above them, and then turned to Torm in alarm. "What
was that?"
Torm frowned, staring through the plexiglass panel at the
little plane as it made a graceful arc in the sky, and raced down in front of
them, zigzagging across their path. "That's odd," he said.
"That's my son's ship. An old lifeboat he begged off one of the supply
ships and rebuilt for an exploring scooter. But I don't know what he's trying to do—"
The
ship was indeed behaving most oddly. It swooped down swiftly, coming so close
that the men in the half-track gripped their supports, half-expecting it to
crash into their top; then it whizzed over and sped for a hundred yards or so
down along the valley floor before them, zigzagging across their path as
"before. The huge cleft between the cliffs ahead was closer now, and the
half-track lumbered along the path, with the little jet doing its strange
maneuverings ahead of them as they went.
"What
is he trying to do—signal us?" The Colonel was half out of his seat as the
plane zoomed overhead again.
Torm shook his head. "I—I don't think so.
He'd drop a flare if he wanted us to stop—"
"Well, he's going to
kill us— look
at that!"
The
plane almost struck the valley floor that time. Torm's breath hissed between his teeth, and his foot slammed down on the brake as the
little jet plunged down to what appeared almost certain disaster; then, quite
suddenly, it lifted itself again, and zipped up high through the gorge ahead. Torm muttered something under his breath, his face dark.
"He's crazy!" the
Colonel breathed.
"He's
up to something." Torm shook his head again as the half-track skidded down a bank toward
the gorge. "He's a skillful flier, but he knows better than
that."
"But what—" The plane had circled
around and made another run through the cleft, somewhat lower, and on less of
an angle than the first.
Tuck
had been staring at the plane silently for several minutes. "Looks to me
like he's scouting the path for us!" he exclaimed suddenly. "Didn't
you see that? He's cutting in as low as he dares, and zigzagging along the
floor—"
"But that's
ridiculous. There's nothing—"
The
Colonel leaned forward sharply. "Tuck's right," he said. "He is scouting—"
The
little jet had just made another run through the cleft, not a hundred yards
ahead of them, and started down into the valley below. Then, almost as an afterthought,
David brought the ship up high, and raced over behind the half-track. With a
whine the ship skimmed along the ravine, quite low, and then zoomed down until
it almost touched the ground; suddenly it swung directly into the half-track's
path, and buzzed through the gorge ahead of them, not four feet off the ground—
And
on the tail of the jet there was a blinding, purple flash, and a huge roar, and
the entire gorge went up in a fury of purple fire and gray-white smoke. In
horrible slow-motion, the cliffs on either side of the gorge crumbled from the
concussion, heaping tons of rock down into the pathway, in the exact spot where
the half-track would have been just a few minutes later. The concussion wave
caught the jet as it zipped through, and the little plane went into a series of
sickening rolls, then panned out and slid into a crash landing somewhere
behind the pillar of fire and smoke that was rising from the gorge—
Torm slammed on his brakes, and shoved the halftrack
into reverse, his face white as putty. Frantically he backed the machine away
from the pillar of fury in the gorge and started it up a flanking path, up a
sharp declivity that would take it around the gorge to the right. Tuck held on
with both hands as the halftrack clambered up the unbroken path, engines roaring,
bouncing all
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