Goodwin Harold Leland
The Scarlet Lake Mystery: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story

CHAPTER V
Project Pegasus

Dr. Gerald Gould, known to the staff as "Gee-Gee," looked more like a high school football coach than a scientist. His blond hair was cropped short, and his face was boyish except for a beautifully waxed military-style mustache. His speech was a remarkable combination of slang and rocket jargon.

He asked, "Do you know vector analysis?"

Rick shook his head. "No, sir."

"Hmmm. Well, boy-oh, we'll plant you with the electronic cooks in the spaghetti department. It says in your job application that you've had plenty of experience in circuit wiring. Roger?"

"Yes, sir." Rick understood that he was to join the technicians in the wiring department. His eyes kept wandering into the huge shed that housed the project on which he was to work. He identified rocket sections, and pretty big ones at that. The rocket was not assembled, but apparently it would tower several stories into the air when assembly was complete. One thing puzzled, him, however. One section obviously had wings. They couldn't be anything else, even though they were tiny and thin as knives. He hadn't heard anything about rockets with wings.

Dr. Gould saw that he was staring with interest at the activity in the shed and grinned sympathetically. "Ever see a big rocket before?"

"Only in pictures," Rick replied.

"Well, you'll see plenty of them before we're through here."

Rick hesitated. "Sir, is it okay to ask what this is all about?"

"Sure it's okay. We have three projects underway at present. In the shed on the left is Orion, which is a two-stage rocket for deep penetration into the exosphere. It's about ready to shoot. In the shed on the right is Cetus, a sounding rocket for ionospheric measurements."

Dr. Gould paused. "If you don't get me, speak up and I'll scoop you the answers. Roger so far?"

Rick nodded. "I'm with you." He understood from the scientist's explanation that Orion was to travel far into the exosphere, actually beyond the atmosphere, while Cetus was a smaller, single-stage rocket for research in the ionosphere, the ionized layer of atmosphere just beyond the stratosphere. The projects, he realized, were named for constellations.

"In this shed we have Pegasus."

"Pegasus was a winged horse," Rick commented, "And aren't those airfoils on that rocket section near the back of the shed? Is that the connection?"

Dr. Gould chuckled. "Sharp-oh! Those are indeed airfoils. Wings for Pegasus. Now make with the reason, if you can."

Rick pondered. He knew rockets achieved stability through fins, or steerable motors, and that wings were no help. Furthermore, there wasn't enough air for wings to be of use beyond the atmosphere where the big rockets traveled. He could see no reason for wings, and said so.

"You're not looking far enough ahead," Dr. Gould said severely. "Put on your spaceman's helmet. Connect up and think. You're on Space Platform Number One and you want to come home to Terra. What are the wings for?"

Light dawned. Rick's chin dropped on his chest and stayed there. Finally he gasped, "You mean the wings are to turn the upper section into a glider in order to land it again?"

Dr. Gould put a hand on his shoulder and nodded gravely. "Ole Gee-Gee is pleased with you. You have demonstrated something between the ears besides strawberry Jello. You have just described the objective of Project Pegasus. We intend to shoot the beast into space and bring the top stage home again by drone control."

The scientist grew serious. "It's not an easy thing, young Brant. No one has yet succeeded in getting a big rocket down in one piece. If we can do it, we'll be one step through the biggest barrier to manned space flight.

"You will work on wiring in the drone control section. Just remember that every touch of your soldering iron is critical. Take no chances at all; everything must be perfect. Do your job and do it well, and someday you'll be able to say that you made the big horse's wings work when it really counted. Now come on, and I'll introduce you to Dick Earle and you can get started."

Dick Earle turned out to be a bigger and darker copy of Gee-Gee. He had the same crew cut and mustache, but his hair was jet black.

Rick also met Dr. Carleton Bond, a tall, slender man of advanced years who was a consultant on drone controls, and Frank Miller, a studious, rather curt young man who was an electronics design engineer.

He began to make some order out of the organization. Gee-Gee Gould was electronics chief for all three projects. Dick Earle was electronics chief for Pegasus, under Gould, and there were also electronics chiefs for Orion and Cetus. Similarly, the projects had air-frame departments, propulsion departments, instrumentation departments, and administrative departments.

Each project also had a technical director, who was a sort of co-ordinator, trouble shooter, and general expert. The technical directors reported to Dr. John Gordon, on loan from Spindrift, who had the title of Senior Project Engineer.

Later, Rick explained it to Scotty. "Each project has its own staff, but there's a top staff that is responsible for all projects. I'm making a little sense out of it, but people keep showing up that I can't fit into the organization."

"They're probably support people," Scotty explained. "Seems the base is divided into two groups; the scientific gang and the support gang. I'm in support, in the vehicle maintenance section. Lomac runs the whole support group. Besides transportation, there's the tracking and monitoring gang – that's what Big Mac and Pancho are in – the machine-shop gang, and all the housekeeping facilities like the fire department, the security force, housing and feeding, and so on."

The boys' roommates turned out to be a security officer named Hank Leeming and one of the janitors, an elderly man of Mexican descent named Maximilian Rodriguez.

On the second day of work Rick met another interesting character, although a nonhuman one, and got an additional duty imposed on him.

He was at work installing a tiny servomotor in the drone control unit when something landed on his head and gripped his hair firmly. Instinctively he started to swing at it, but Dr. Bond's voice stopped him in time.

"Easy, Rick! He won't hurt you."

Rick reached up carefully and his hands met fur. He lifted the little creature down and stared at it, his lips slowly parting in a grin. It was a tiny monkey no larger than a squirrel, with soft brown fur and tufted ears. The little animal pulled free, jumped onto Rick's shoulder and kissed him ecstatically, making happy chirrupy noises.

"What on earth is a monkey doing here?"

Dr. Bond smiled. "Prince Machiavelli is more than a monkey," he replied. "Actually, he is a true marmoset of the genus Callithrix. He is also a genuine spacemonk."

"A what?"

The elderly scientist smiled. "Spacemonk. The simian equivalent of spaceman. The Prince has been into space twice now. Fortunately, the nose section was parachuted down intact both times, so he survived. Other spacemonks have been less fortunate. He will be our surrogate for Project Pegasus."

Rick stared at the little creature with increased interest. The marmoset was to substitute, then, for human occupants of the big rocket. His life would depend on their ability to get the winged nose section down in one piece. He stroked the tiny spacemonk gently, and got a contented series of chirps in response.

Dick Earle walked in and smiled as the monkey snuggled down happily in Rick's cupped hands. "Looks as if you've made a friend, Rick. Good. In addition to your other duties you can take over as the monk's keeper. He won't be any trouble. Sometimes I think he has better manners than some of the staff." Earle turned and walked out again.

Rick stared after him. "What was that last crack about?"

Dr. Bond smiled. "Dick has his problems. I won't gossip, but you'll soon see what I mean."

The elderly consultant's prediction came true in short order. The next day, Rick ran headlong into an unwarranted and particularly nasty dressing down at the hands of Frank Miller. Rick, annoyed with himself for having done a rather poor job of connecting up the servomotor, was busily ripping it out when Miller came over to see what he was doing. Without waiting for an explanation, the design engineer launched into a tirade. Rick's face slowly reddened and his temper grew frayed. It was so completely unjust that he was on the verge of swinging at the engineer when Dick Earle walked in.

Earle asked crisply, "What's this all about?"

Miller turned on him. "You're supposed to be in charge here, but you let sloppy work like this go on! What good does it do for me to design circuits if – "

Earle cut him off. "Shut up, Frank. Rick, what's your story?"

Rick clenched his hands. "I installed this servo, and didn't do a clean job of it. It was pretty sloppy. So I pulled it out to do it over again. I won't settle for anything less than perfect work. But he came along and jumped on me without letting me explain what I was doing."

Earle nodded. "All right. Go ahead with your work. Frank, you are not this boy's supervisor. Let him alone."

Miller glared at the electronics chief, then turned on his heel and stalked out of the shop. Earle watched him go, his pleasant face sober. "I'm sorry, Rick. Frank is like that, and I don't know why. I suspect he has troubles of some sort and takes it out on us. Try to overlook it, because he's an extremely competent engineer. We'd have great trouble replacing him."

Rick nodded. "Yes, sir."

The work progressed smoothly. Rick finished the part he was working on and was assigned another. He met other members of the project, including Phil Sherman and Charlie Kassick who, like himself, were technicians at work on wiring and assembly. He met Cliff Damon, chief of the instrumentation section, who showed him the intricate devices used to track the big rockets and to record just about everything that went on inside them.

It was pleasant and exciting, and only the incident with Frank Miller marred the contentment Rick felt at being a part of Pegasus. Then, near the end of his first week on the job, Miller dropped in and watched Rick at work for a moment. The boy tensed, but said nothing beyond a civil good morning.

Miller cleared his throat. "Brant, I want to apologize."

Rick looked up in surprise.

"I'm known as a crank, and I guess I deserve the reputation. But just because I feel rotten doesn't mean I have to take it out on you. I'm sorry."

Rick looked at the engineer thoughtfully. Miller was apparently sincere. "That's all right," he said. "Why do you feel rotten, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Ulcers. The doctor says the only way to cure them is to get out of this business, and go into something with less stress and strain. But I can't. I've been a rocketeer ever since I graduated from college, and I can't leave. So if I snap at you, please forget it."

Rick nodded. "I'll play it that way if you say so."

"Thanks." Miller turned and walked out.

The design engineer was polite enough after that, and Rick discounted the few times when he appeared too curt. So, with pleasant working conditions all around, the work fell into an exciting routine. The days passed and the drone control began to shape up as a complete unit. Meanwhile, other sections of the big rocket were readied, and the first two stages, now completely assembled, were loaded on their special trucks and taken to the firing area.

In the next shed, Orion was almost ready. The rocket stages were trucked to the firing pad assigned to the project and the staff vanished from next door. They had moved their base of operation to the blockhouse and the pad. Time for the Orion shoot was only two days off.

Rick saw little of Scotty. His pal was at work in the vehicle maintenance shed, and making friends of his own. The two met only at night, usually at bedtime, because the entire base was working overtime.

The work was so absorbing that Rick actually forgot for long periods the reason for his presence on the base. To be sure, he heard much about the mysterious Earthman, but it was all a rehash of the earlier sabotage attempts, mixed with pretty wild speculation. Scotty reported that among the mechanics, machinists, and housekeeping staffs, the Earthman was regarded with considerable fear and superstition.

Then, with shattering impact, the Earthman returned from the realm of legend to stark reality!

CHAPTER VI
Sign of the Earthman

Dick Earle handed Rick a series of requisition forms. "We're running out of parts. Take this to Warehouse Eight and get the requisitions filled. The clerk will lend you a hand truck to bring the stuff back."

Rick found the warehouse, handed the forms to a clerk, and waited at the counter for the supplies. The clerk moved from bin to bin, collecting the variety of electronic parts. The pile in front of Rick grew.

The clerk returned the last two sheets and scanned them. "All transistors. And not the cheap kind, either. Just a minute and I'll have them for you." He vanished behind the tiers of shelves. Rick waited.

The wait grew longer and the boy fidgeted. Couldn't the clerk find them? Rick hoped the base hadn't run out, because that would mean a delay on his project. Already he thought of it as "his," and he was impatient as any of the project staff to push the work to completion.

The clerk reappeared, a single carton and a sheet of paper in hand. The man's face was white and his eyes looked as though they were about to drop out. He grabbed the phone on the counter and dialed, missed because his hand was shaking so, and dialed again. This time he got the number.

"Security? Is this security? Get over here, quick! Warehouse Eight. Hurry! The Earthman has been here!"

Rick stared, popeyed. The Earthman! He asked quickly, "What happened?"

The clerk swallowed hard. Obviously he was scared stiff. "They were empty," he said. "All of them. Empty! Honest! And in one I found this." He handed Rick the scrap of paper he carried.

Rick smoothed it out on the counter and his pulse speeded. It was a good sketch, done in ink, of a knight in full armor. Crushed under one mailed foot was a rocket. The knight carried a shield, and emblazoned on it were two words.

Homo Terrestrialis.

The mark of the Earthman!

Hank Leeming, Rick's security officer roommate, and an older man he identified as Colonel Tom Preston, Chief of Security, pulled up at the door in a jeep and hurried inside.

Preston took over. "All right, Jimmy. What's this about the Earthman?"

The clerk silently handed him the slip of paper.

The Security Chief examined it. "His mark, all right. Where did you find it?"

The clerk was still shaky, and he had a hard time putting his discovery into words. Rick tried to help him out. "He found some cartons that were empty. Transistor cartons, I guess. This was in one of them."

Preston's eyes fixed on him. "Who are you?"

"My name is Brant, sir. I'm with Pegasus."

Preston's eyes acknowledged Rick's name, but he turned to the clerk. "Is that right, Jimmy? Transistors missing?"

Jimmy found his voice. "Yes, Colonel. At first I thought it was a mistake – a few empties put back on the shelf by accident. But they were all empty, sir. All of them! There isn't a transistor in the warehouse!"

Preston nodded. "Take over, Hank. Shake the place down. Get one of the boys with a kit and check for fingerprints on the stacks and empty cartons. Jimmy, come with me. We'll check your inventory with Pat O'Connor."

Pat O'Connor was the base supply officer. Preston and the clerk departed. Hank paused long enough to say, "Better take the stuff you have, Rick. Looks as if you'll have to wait for the transistors."

Obviously there wasn't anything else to be done. Rick found a hand truck, loaded on the supplies, and went back to his shed.

By dinnertime the base was one solid mass of rumor. Rick heard variously that the Earthman had been found, that he had stolen an entire rocket assembly, that the warehouse had been loaded with dynamite triggered to explode, that he had killed the clerk, that the clerk had seen him just before he flickered into invisibility, and so on.

He phoned Scotty and found that his pal was hearing equally wild rumors. The boys set a time and place to meet, just outside the main project building at five-thirty. Scotty was there when Rick arrived.

"John Gordon come out yet?" Rick asked.

Scotty shook his head. "Any news? I've got a million rumors more or less, but nothing solid."

Rick told him in detail of the incident at the warehouse, and concluded, "Beyond that I don't know a thing. But Gordon will probably know something if we can catch him."

"We'll wait. We can pretend it's the first time we've seen him here and talk for a few minutes about old times at Spindrift. That shouldn't make anyone suspicious."

Rick agreed. It would be natural enough, and if anyone came within earshot they could make the conversation sound harmless.

Scotty grinned. "How's your pal and special charge?" At least once a day he kidded Rick about becoming nursemaid to a monkey.

"Fine," Rick replied. "He asks for you every day. After all, he knows you're the only other ape on the base."

Scotty ignored the crack. "When do I get to see this beloved child of yours?"

"Come on over to the project any time. He'd like to meet you."

"I'll do it, first time I can get away from those doggone trucks. Seems like they break down every hour."

At that moment John Gordon came out of the project building. Rick, who was facing the door, pretended surprise. "Aren't you Dr. Gordon," he called.

The scientist turned and hesitated. "Yes. You're … let's see … you were at Spindrift for a while. I'm afraid I don't remember your names."

Rick introduced himself and Scotty, for the benefit of a few men who were passing by, en route to the mess hall.

"Ah, yes. I remember now. Going to eat? So am I. Come along and tell me where you're working now. Obviously you're employed on the base, but on what projects?"

They chatted idly as they walked slowly toward the mess hall. Then, when no one was in earshot, Rick said swiftly, "I was at the warehouse when the mark of the Earthman was found. Any developments we should know about?"

Gordon answered softly, "Yes. Inventory showed nearly a quarter of a million in transistors missing. Also, no one had called for transistors in nearly three weeks."

"Isn't that unusual?" Scotty asked.

"Not particularly. Each project has its own stock-room. Since we're a new base, the projects have been working from an initial supply."

"So the transistors may have been missing for some time?"

"They could have been missing since the last requisition, exactly nineteen days ago. But they probably were stolen during the Viking shoot."

"Is the warehouse guarded?"

"No. A clerk is on duty at all times when the warehouse is open. At night it's locked. There was no sign of tampering, and anyway, the locks are tamper-proof."

Scotty said warningly, "Company coming." Then, in a louder voice, he continued, "Of course we worked for Dr. Zircon."

"Very capable man, Zircon," Gordon said, taking Scotty's cue. "We could use him here. Any idea where he is now?"

"No, sir," Rick replied. "We haven't seen him since we left Spindrift."

At the door of the mess hall Gordon left them with a polite handshake, explaining that he had to eat with someone else by previous arrangement.

During dinner Rick thought over the events of the day. But not until the meal was ended and he and Scotty wandered on foot toward the edge of camp could he put his idea into words.

"This business today puts a new light on the Earthman, Scotty."

"I read you loud and clear. A quarter of a million bucks makes a little sabotage worth while, huh?"

Rick nodded. "We can't know, of course, but if you were a warehouse clerk and a big rocket went haywire, wouldn't you be out watching it?"

"I'd be out where the view was best. So would you," Scotty replied.

"Remember where we saw a transistor recently?" Rick asked.

Scotty reached in his pocket, brought out his sling, and unwrapped it. He picked up a stone, tested it for weight, then reconsidered and put the sling back. "I remember. Big Mac and Pancho. Mac said he must have stuck it in his pocket absent-mindedly while repairing his equipment."

"That's what he said," Rick agreed. "Only transistors aren't like radio tubes. They don't need replacing often."

"Meaning?"

"He might have been telling the truth or he might not."

Scotty tossed the stone away. "How much space would that many transistors take up?"

"Hard to say. We could find out, I suppose. But transistors are small, and they don't weigh much. Besides, some of the types used here are fantastically expensive. A couple of hundred dollars might pay for a transistor the size of a kidney bean."

Scotty whistled. "They must be made of diamonds! Anyway, a quarter of a million is a lot of money, and even at two hundred bucks each the transistors would make quite a bundle. The Earthman would have to hide them, and then get them off the base. And I'll tell you one thing: If Big Mac stole them, he didn't take them off the base in his own car."

"How do you know?" Rick challenged.

"He's got a Porsche. There's about enough room in the luggage compartment for a spare handkerchief."

"I'll buy it." Another idea hit him. "But he has some other transportation, hasn't he? How about the radar unit he and Pancho run?"

Scotty snapped his fingers. "Now you're cooking! It's a panel truck, loaded with equipment, and they pull the radar antenna behind it on a trailer. There would be plenty of room in the truck. Only he doesn't take it into town, remember?"

"Would he need to? He could drop the transistors somewhere to be picked up later."

"Careless Mesa."

"What?"

"That's his station. Come on. Let's look at a map of the area." Scotty turned and led the way to their barracks.

One thing about the robbery was a major puzzle to Rick. He could see that a rocket shoot might provide the opportunity to commit the theft, and he could see how use of a radar van might get the stolen goods off the base. But the thief had carefully emptied cartons, leaving the cartons as camouflage. That took more time than any thief would have. He considered various ways in which it might have been done and rejected them all.

Tacked up in the entryway of their barracks was a large-scale map. Scarlet Lake was marked with crayon. The boys studied the area, looking for Careless Mesa. Finally Scotty found it, almost due north of the base. "About twenty miles. Only one road to the mesa, but two roads lead away from it. Let's see where they go."

The first road from Careless Mesa ended at a point in the mountains marked "Dry Spring." The second road led to the town marked "Steamboat," where the road forked again. One branch eventually joined other roads in Pahrump Valley, the other led to Death Valley.

The boys looked at each other triumphantly. Rick said, "So you can get from Careless Mesa to state highways without returning to the base."

Scotty scratched his chin. "Any idea what's at Careless Mesa?"

"Not the slightest."

"Neither do I. Maybe we'd better have a look."

That was fine with Rick. "When?"

"How about tomorrow?"

"I'll have to check. Suppose I wander over to the project? If Dick Earle is there, I can sound him out."

"Okay, and I'll check with my people."

The boys parted, and Rick walked to the Pegasus shed. Dick Earle and Dr. Bond were in the cubicle where the project paper work was done. The marmoset was with them, perched on top of the file safe. As Rick entered, the little spacemonk jumped to his shoulder and caressed his cheek.

"Come in, Rick," Dr. Bond said. "We're just having a gloom session."

"Gloom? What about?" Rick petted the marmoset, then put him back on his file-safe perch. "Is something wrong?"

"Transistors," Dick Earle stated flatly. "No transistors left on the base. That means we come to a grinding halt until we get supplies."

"The whole project?" Rick asked in astonishment. He hadn't realized a few parts would mean so much.

"Not all of it. Just our part. The air frame and propulsion people can keep on, because they don't use the gadgets. But we'll be tied up for a few days until a supply can get here."

Dr. Bond added, "An order has been placed, Rick. By telephone. But the supplier can't possibly make delivery until after the Orion shoot."

Dick Earle nodded. "Correct. So you might as well plan to loaf for a day or so, Rick."

The trip to Careless Mesa would be no problem now, Rick thought. He wouldn't even need to ask permission.

"Strange that anyone would steal a whole supply of transistors," he commented.

Dick Earle shook his head. "Not particularly. The transistor is still a critical item in electronics and production isn't up to demand, especially for special designs. That means the stolen transistors can be sold fairly easily, once the proper channels to get them into the market are found."

"What kind of channels?" Rick asked.

Earle shrugged. "Anything to hide the fact that the transistors are stolen stock. The Earthman could make a deal with some jobber who handles electronic materials, and feed the transistors into regular trade channels through the jobber."

"But aren't they numbered, or trade-marked, or something like that?"

"Numbers and trade-marks can be changed," Dr. Bond reminded him.

As Rick walked back to his barracks he pondered over the meaning of the day's development. For one thing, theft of the transistors put a new light on the Earthman's activities. It added a profit motive to whatever else motivated the mysterious saboteur. Or did it?

How Big Mac and Pancho fitted into all this remained to be determined. Rick could easily imagine that the two would take considerable risk for big profits, but it was harder to imagine them acting from any other motive. Somehow, he just couldn't believe that money was the underlying reason for the Earthman's actions. Sabotaging research rockets just to provide a diversion that would allow a theft did not make sense.

The Earthman's activities had become more than just a challenging puzzle, too. Rick's work on Pegasus had become important in its own right. He was excited at being a part of something so dramatic, and with such far-reaching consequences for the whole future of space travel and high-altitude research. He had become a part of Pegasus. Perhaps he wasn't an important part, but he was making at least a small contribution to the project's success. That made it his project, and the Earthman was interfering with it.

Somehow, he and Scotty had to find the Earthman – for personal reasons now, as well as official ones!