Robert Heinlein - The Rolling Stones

"Certainly." The twins questioned each other wordlessly again.

'Why shouldn't she? Speak up."

"Well, you... well, it was like this -"

" Speak up!"

" There was a bearing wobble, or something, in one of the gyros," Pollux admitted miserably. We were working on it"

"You were? In Charlie's place!"

"Well, we went over there to see what he had in the way of spare parts and, well, we got detained, sort of."

Their father looked at them for several seconds with no expression of any sort. He then said in a flat voice, "You left a piece of ship's equipment out of commission. You failed to log it. You failed to report it to the Captain. He paused. "Go to your room."

"But Dad! We want to help!"

"Stay in your room; you are under arrest"

The twins did as they were ordered. While they waited, the whole of Rock City was alerted. The word went out: the doctor's little boy is missing; the boy's grandmother is missing. Fuel up your scooters; stand by to help. Stay on this wave length.

"Pol, quit muttering!"

Pollux turned to his brother. "How can I help it?"

"They can't be lost, not really lost Why, the stereo itself would stand out on a screen like a searchlight"

Pollux thought about it 'I don't know. You remember I said I thought we might have a high-potential puncture in the power pack?"

"I thought you fixed that?"

"I planned to, just as soon as we got the bugs smoothed out inthe gyros."

Castor thought about it 'That's bad. That could be really bad." He added suddenly, "But quit muttering, just the same. Start thinking instead. What happened? We've got to recon­struct it"

""What happened?" Are you kidding? Look, the pesky thing tumbles, then anything can happen. No control."

"Use your head, I said. What would Hazel do in this situa­tion?"

They both kept quiet for some moments, then Pollux said, "Cas, that derned thing always tumbled to the left, didn't it? Always."

"What good does that do us? Left can be any direction."

"No! You asked what Hazel would do. She'd be along her homing line, of course - and Hazel always oriented around her drive line so as to get the Sun on the back of her neck, if possible. Her eyes aren't too good."

Castor screwed up his face, trying to visualise it. "Say Eakers' is off that way and City Hall over here; if the Sun is over on this side, then, when it tumbles, she'd vector off that way." He acted it with his hands.

"Sure, sure! When you put in the right coordinates, that is. But what else would she do? What would you do? You'd vector back I mean vector home."

"Huh? How could she? With no gyros?"

"Think about it Would you quit? Hazel is a pilot. She'd ride that thing like a broomstick." He shaped the air with his hands. "So she'd be coming back, or trying to, along here - and everybody will be looking for her way over here."

Castor scowled. "Could be."

"It had better be. They'll be looking for her in a cone with its vertex at Eakers' - and they ought to be looking in a cone with its vertex right here, and along one side of it at that"

Castor said, "Come along!"

"Dad said we were under arrest"

" Come along!"

City Hall was empty, save for Mrs Fries who was standing watch, red-eyed and tense, at the radio. She shook her head. "Nothing yet."

"Where can we find a scooter?"

"You can't Everybody is out searching."

Castor tugged at Pollux's sleeve. "Old Charlie."

"Huh?" Say, Mrs Fries, is old Charlie out searching?"

"I doubt if he knows about it."

They rushed into their suits, cycled by spilling and wasting air, did not bother with safety lines. Old Charlie let them in. "What's all the fuss about, boys?"

Castor explained Charlie shook his head. "That's too bad, that really is. I'm right sorry."

"Charlie, we've got to have your scooter."

"Right now!" added Pollux.

Charlie looked astorsished. "Are you fooling? I'm the only one can gun that rig."

"Charlie, this serious! We've got to have it"

"You couldn't gun it"

"We're both pilots."

Charlie scratched meditatively while Castor considered slug­ging him for his keys - but his keys probably weren't on him - and how would one find anything in that trash pile? Charlie finally said, "If you've just got to, I suppose I better gun it for you."

"Okay, okay! Hurry up! Get your suit on!"

"Don't be in such a rush. It just slows you down."

Charlie disappeared into the underbush, came out fairly promptly with a suit that seemed to consist mostly of vul­canized patches. "Dog take it," he complained as he began to struggle with it, "if your mother would stay home and mind her own business, these things wouldn't happen."

"Shut up and hurry!"

"I am hurrying. She made me take a bath. I don't need no doctors. All the bugs that ever bit me, died."

When Charlie had dug his scooter out of the floating junk-yard moored to his home they soon saw why he had refused to lend it. It seemed probable that no one else could possibly pilot it Not only was it of vintage type, repaired with parts from many other sorts, but also the controls were arranged for a man with four hands. Charlie had been in free fall so long that he used his feet almost as readily for grasping and hand­ling as does an ape; his space suit had had the feet thereof modified so that he could grasp things between the big toe and the second, as with Japanese stockings.

"Hang on. Where we going?"

"Do you know where the Eakers live?"

"Sure. Used to live out past that way myself. Lonely stretch." He pointed. "Right out there, "bout half a degree right of that leetle second-magnitude star - say eight hundred, eight hundred ten miles."

"Cas, maybe we'd better check the drift reports in the store?"

Charlie seemed annoyed. "I know Rock City. I keep up with the drifts. I have to."

"Then let's go."

"To Eakers'?"

"No, no - uh, just about..." He strained his neck, figured the position of the Sun, tried to imagine himself in Hazel's suit, heading back. "About there - would you say, Pol?"

"As near as we can guess it."

The crate was old but Charlie had exceptionally large tanks on it; it could maintain a thrust for plenty of change-of-­motion. Its jet felt as sweet as any. But it had no radar of any sort. "Charlie, how do you tell where you are in this thing?"

"That"

"'That' proved to be an antiquated radio compass loop. The twins had never seen one, knew how it worked only by theory. They were radar pilots, not used to conning by the seats of their suits. Seeing their faces Charlie added, "Shucks, if you've got any eye for angle, you don't need fancy gear. Anywhere within twenty miles of the City Hall, I don't even turn on my suit jet - I just jump."

They cruised out the line that the twins had picked. Once in free fall Charlie taught them how to handle the compass loop. "Just plug it into your suit in place of your regular receiver. If you pick up a signal, swing the loop until it's least loud.

"That's the direction of the signal - an arrow right through the middle of the loop."

"But which way? The loop faces both ways."

"You have to know that. Or guess wrong and go back and try again."

Castor took the first watch. He got plenty of signals; the node was buzzing with talk - all bad news. He found, too, that the loop, while not as directional as a 'salad bowl' antenna, usually did not pick up but one signal at a time. As they scooted along, endlessly he swung the loop, staying with each signal just long enough to be sure that the sound could not be Hazel.

Pollux tapped his arm and put his helmet in contact with Castor's. "Anything?"

"Just chatter."

"Keep trying. We'll stay out until we find them. Want me to spell you?"