MOMENTUM
By Charles Dye
(author of "Time Killer")
Just because an event "has to" happen,
some people think that, of course, it
will happen. It ain't necessarily so!
Ballard had but a few hours to solve
the problem, and he knew that the
answer was there, before his eyes—if
he could see it in time!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Future combined with Science Fiction Stories July 1951.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Asteroid 1207 came spinning into the auxiliary ship's viewplate like aglittering black mirage. The eight-mile chunk of rock was the last linkin a chain of nine asteroid navigational-markers still needing blinkerequipment installation. Minutes later, the Minnow lay neatly berthedin the deepest hollow of the asteroid, the shining wires of its drillgrapples anchoring it firmly to the jagged rock. The airlock openedand two men in spacesuits stepped out. They climbed to the top of thenearest hill dragging a platform of tools and equipment; the ragged,close horizons of the asteroid made a hostile background for them asthey worked in silence.
Ballard leaned far over the rough edge of a circular pit, directingthe heat radiation beam that melted the foundation plastic smoothlyover the walls. He couldn't spare the time to turn his head and watchWalton, but he could follow the other's progress in welding theframework of the blinker tower by the irregular breathing and clanksand buzzes coming through his earphones. He listened to Walton'smotions with an automatic alertness developed over six long weeks oftension—ever since the finding of the rotenite nuggets on the secondof the light-marker asteroids. The rotenite represented enough wealthto make them among the richest men in the solar system. Or one ofthem—the richest. That was what Ballard was afraid of.
Suddenly the clanks and rustles stopped, and Walton's voice muttered:"Must have left the number three flux; better go back for it."
"What?" Ballard caught himself asking rhetorically, apprehensionflooding through him.
"I said I left something. Have to go back and get it." There was afaint tremor in Walton's voice.
With a hard calm he wouldn't have recognized six weeks ago, Ballardconsidered the consequences of making an excuse to go with Walton.But the excuse would destroy the pose of innocence he'd so carefullyacted since his first suspicions of Walton's intention. And he could bewrong. No sense in antagonizing Walton, particularly with the frayedcondition both their nerves were in. "Ok," he grunted. "Bring backanother 5R bit; this one I've been using chitters."
There were the sounds of Walton bounding down towards the ship in thepeculiar dancing glide demanded by the low gravity. Methodically,without looking up, Ballard continued his job, following Walton withhis earphones. Only when the foundation fill was laid would it seemnatural for him to stop working for a moment and go to the ship.
Gradually, layer on layer, the plastic melted, coated the walls andhardened. He heard Walton reach the ship, then there was a slightringing noise as the man touched his key-magnet to the airlock. AsWalton entered the lock, his mike registered the pressure of air bysuddenly picking up all the sounds of the ship; the throbbing of thegenerators, the intermittent rush and sigh of the air conditioner, an