Jon Carver spoke into the microphone of his ship radio. "Exploration ship Star Rover, Tad Carver owner, Jon Carver pilot, asking permission to land. We are circling at ten miles up."

A moment's crackling noise from the speaker, then a cheery, feminine voice, "Centropolitan spaceport. Landing permission granted. What size is your ship?"

"A seventy-two foot space-yacht."

"Do you need servicing?"

"We will in a day or so, but not at the moment."

"Use cradle forty-three in section D. Land in four minutes."

"Instructions received with thanks. Star Rover off."

Carefully Jon sighted through his visiplate until he located the cradle marked with a large "43" in the section of the tremendous spaceport also clearly marked "D." He lowered the ship slowly and gently, keeping his eyes closely on the chronom and its big sweep-secondhand.

So expert had he become at handling the ship, and so well did his new automatic technique work, that the ship settled gently into the cradle dead center ... and only one point three zero seconds off the four minutes specified.

"Nice handling, Chubby," Jak cheered as they felt the mighty engines and generators shut off.

"Aw, it was rotten. I was almost a second and a half off in my timing."

"Who cares?" There was a lilt of joy and pure thankfulness in their mother's voice. "We are back on Earth—home—and all of us are whole. That's the best part of all."

Her husband looked up from the recline seat where he was still lying, and winked at his sons. Then he faced his wife. "The eternal mother." He smiled gently at her, and his voice was soft with emotion. "Happiest when her brood is safe. And," he added hastily at the look coming into her eyes, "how thankful mankind is, or should be, that womenfolk have always had that feeling. Man would never have gone as far as he has if she hadn't."

Jak soon came in from the other part of the ship. "All our data books, pictures and specimens are packed and stashed by the inner lockdoor," he reported.

Jon jumped from his pilot's seat and started toward the living quarters. "Let's get our street clothes on, and get going to the Colonial Board headquarters."

"Yes," Mrs. Carver said eagerly. "After all we've gone through to make sure we beat that Bogin and his ship back home, let's not waste any time."

"Well," Mr. Carver's eyes twinkled, "go put on your prettiest frock and all your war paint, so you can make a good impression on the Board members."

She krinkled her nose at him, but went in to the bunkroom. Mr. Carver raised his chair to upright, and began struggling to get up. The two boys, watching closely, saw how weak he was, and ran to help him. With his arms across their shoulders, he finally managed to half-walk, half be carried, into the other room. The boys lowered him into a seat.

"I'll get your clean clothes, and your razor and some hot water," Jak said.

Jon went back into the control room, and turned on his radio-sender. "Service, please," he said when the operator came on, and in a moment, "Star Rover, cradle 43, section D. Please have a taxi-hopper here in thirty minutes, and a wheel chair with it. Thanks."

When the four got outside on the landing platform and Tad Carver saw the wheel chair he was indignant. "I'm not going to ride in any lousy perambulator," he grumbled, but the boys were insistent.

Finally his wife came over and put her hand on his arm. "You might as well give in, Mr. C. Besides, your leg is not strong enough to do without one—yet."

Still grumbling, he let the boys help him into the wheel chair ... but they noticed his sigh of relief when he was settled and the weight was taken off his feet. His body trembled with weakness, in spite of his efforts to control himself.

The chair, their books and cases were soon loaded into the copter, then Jon directed, "Colonial Board building, please."

The little ship rose swiftly on her whirling vanes, then streaked through the clear air toward the center of the great city of Centropolis, while the four watched the familiar sights of "home" with eager, happy eyes.

"Look at the trees and flowers," Jak called excitedly, pointing at the riot of color below. "They're getting green and in full bloom. It's late spring here, yet it was fall back on Three."

"Different suns, different seasons on the various planets." There was amusement in his father's voice.

"Sure, you ought to know that," Jon said condescendingly.

"I do know it, you fathead. I was just...."

"Now, Boys," their mother interposed—and the two grinned covertly at each other. Poor mother never seemed to realize there was no real animosity behind their bickerings.

It took only a few minutes for the swift taxi-hopper to ferry them from the spaceport to the roof of the huge Colonial building. Tad Carver paid the fare, the boys again filled their arms with their books and cases, and Mrs. Carver pushed the wheel chair to the elevator. They descended to the Board headquarters' floor.

In the anteroom their father propelled his chair to the receptionist's desk.

"I'm Tad Carver, owner of the Star Rover, just back from a trip. We wish to present a claim as Prime Discoverers of a new planetary system."

"Oh, splendid!" The stately brunette's eyes lighted. "Is it a good one?" she asked as she reached into one of the drawers of her desk for a sheet of forms.

Mr. Carver smiled. "Five planets and seven moons. Two of the planets are very Earthlike, and there are lots of metal, wood and many other worth-while things."

A distant look came into the girl's eyes. "I've never been out in space. It must be wonderful...." She straightened with determination. "Please answer these preliminary questions. Then I'll get your appointment with the Board." Rapidly she put the questions as listed on her forms, and filled in the vacant places as he answered her.

Finished, she rose, said, "Just a moment, please," and went in through a side door with the papers in her hand.

Mr. Carver wheeled himself back to his family, who were sitting stiffly in chairs against the further wall. "Are they going to allow our claim?" Jon asked nervously. The others leaned forward to hear the answer.

"Take it easy." Mr. Carver's eyes showed amusement. "The girl has merely gone in to make an appointment for us. This takes time, you know. We probably won't have the answer for several days."

"Oh!" It was a trio of disappointment, and they sat back to wait, glumly, impatiently.

But only a few minutes later they straightened expectantly as they saw the receptionist coming back. She crossed over to them.

"The Board is at liberty to hear your preliminary claim now," she told them. "Please follow me."

She led them through the same side door and into a large room beyond. The four looked eagerly about them, seeing a well-lighted, wood-paneled office. Across the room was a large, heavy table-desk, behind which were seated five men.

"Mr. and Mrs. Tad Carver, and their two sons," the girl introduced them before leaving.

"Please take those chairs." From his seat at the center of the table the chairman indicated comfortable chairs on the side of the table opposite him. Jon pushed one aside while Jak propelled the wheel chair into the vacant space. Then the other three Carvers seated themselves in adjoining seats.

"I am Robert Wilson, Chairman of the Board. The other members are Phil Silverman, James Dougherty, Will Irwin, and Sam Reardon." He indicated in turn the other men at the table. "I see you claim to be the Prime Discoverers of a new Solar System. That's wonderful! We're expanding so rapidly, what with the increasing birth rate on Terra and the other colonized planets, that we already and always need more room. Tell us more about your find."

"It's a five-planet system with a sun much like Sol, only about a quarter larger. The coordinates are Right Ascension 17.45, Declination Minus 11.4, distance about sixty-two light years."

Swiftly Mr. Carver gave the pertinent facts about the habitability of planets Two and Three, and presented their books of data, and their cases of photographs.

"How come we haven't received your signals—or didn't you place any?" Irwin asked.

"We did place them, sir, but we noticed several days ago, coming in, that we could not hear them with our own receivers. It is my opinion that the distance is too great for the strength of the senders."

"That's possible," Silverman spoke up. "Your claim is farther away than any yet presented to us. I happen to know that the signal-senders furnished by our Board technicians ordinarily have a theoretical range of not quite fifty light-years."

Mr. Carver half-rose, then settled back and spoke with a level voice, while his eyes swept from one to the other of the five men.

"I want to report honestly on this case, sirs. Just before we left, we started back along a course that would take us fairly close to all our planets and the sun, to make sure our senders were functioning correctly. We started from Two, where we had just completed marking-out our city site, went past One and around the sun, planning to make a big swing to the other planets and so back home. The senders of One, Two and the sun were working all right, but as we neared Three we heard, instead of our own, signals stating that the system had been charted and claimed by Michael Bogin and his...."

"Slik Bogin!" Several of the Board members exclaimed in concert, and Chairman Wilson added, grimly, "So he's at work again."

Mr. Carver waited until they were silent, then continued, "We think he either destroyed our senders or substituted his own tapes in ours. However, we put our sun-signal into an orbit so close to the sun's surface we doubt if he'll be able to do anything about it. It's only about ten million miles...."

"Ten million!" Reardon almost yelled the question, and the others sat upright in excited astonishment, doubt showing in their faces. "How could you do that?"

"I figured a van Sicklenberg, sir, to give our sender a circular orbit apexing at ten million miles," Jon Carver explained simply. "We used the servo-mechs in our lock to throw the sender out when at minimum distance."

"You?" There was a concerted expression of disbelief and Mr. Reardon said, witheringly, "Why, you're not a listed astrogator. How could you compute a ... a what was it you called it?"

"A van Sicklenberg throw-out orbit, sir. I...."

"Never heard of a van Sicklenberg. What is it ... what sort of nonsense are you talking?"

Jon opened his mouth to reply, but his mother forestalled him. She rose determinedly. "My Jon is 'only a boy,' gentlemen, but he has also become an expert pilot and an excellent astrogator, if I do say so myself. He is also an inventor, and will shortly apply for patents on a new automatic piloting system—which I don't pretend to understand anything about, but which I do know from watching its use is far in advance of anything you now have. You can be sure he knows how to do such a simple thing as plot an orbit." She sat down, eyes defiant, her mouth in a straight line.

The men's faces showed astonishment at her words as much as at her outburst.

"I had been knocked unconscious and my leg was broken," Mr. Carver took up the explanation, "so I was out of action for a long time. I'm not fully recovered yet, which is the reason for the discourtesy of this wheel chair. The two boys had to take over all the work of mapping the new system. But I have examined their books and pictures, and feel sure you will find everything in order and complete, and that it will prove our rights as Prime Discoverers, no matter what Bogin may have to say when he gets here. He is following us, but we managed to beat him in."

"Hmmm." The chairman frowned in thought, then whispered for some moments to the other men on either side of him. The four Carvers sat nervously, awaiting the decision of the final arbiters.

Finally Chairman Wilson addressed them directly. "You can well understand that we will have to make a rather more thorough examination than usual in this case, Mr. Carver, and that we will have to wait a few days to see whether or not Michael Bogin is going to make a counter-claim. Knowing you got here first, he may decide not to do so. Where are you located, so we can get in touch with you later?"

"We came directly from our ship, sir, so do not have an address as yet. However, as soon as we have found a place, I'll call your secretary and leave our address and visiphone number."

"You do that, please." Then, as the Carvers rose to depart, Chairman Wilson halted them, his voice kindly, yet grim. "This is a peculiar case, Carver, as you can well understand. We know the reputation of Bogin, but we also know he has never been found guilty of any of the things rumor claims he has done. We Board members try always to be fair and honest in these matters, and you can feel certain and confident you and your claims will be given careful consideration. We will get in touch with you in a few days."

"Thank you, Gentlemen. I'm content to rest my claim in your hands."

The four bowed, then left the office and the building.

"What do you think, Father?" Jak asked anxiously as they were riding a ground-cab whose driver had been instructed to find them a good apartment hotel.

"I don't know," Mr. Carver added a weary smile. "It's all in the future, and I'm not a seer. However, I'm sure we'll get an honest and unbiased hearing and decision, and I'm equally positive we have the better claim. So let's forget it until we're notified to appear, and enjoy our return to Terra."

"Mr. C.'s right, Boys," their mother agreed. "We've done our best, and thanks to you boys, it's a very fine best. Now we must wait, but not worry."

Their cabby found them a nice place where there was a vacancy, and soon the four were unpacking their gear and getting settled in their new home. Mr. Carver visiphoned at once to give the new address and phone number to the Board's receptionist.

Then the Carvers settled down to wait, with as much patience as they could muster, for the call.

Jak insisted on having a good doctor called at once. The latter made a thorough examination. He had Mr. Carver taken to an X-Ray laboratory, where it was determined that the broken leg had been perfectly set, and was now practically healed, although it would be some time before the strength returned to it. He also prescribed a course of medications to bring back the invalid's full health and vigor.

The call came from the Board three days later, in the middle of a morning when, fortunately, the four Carvers were all in the apartment. They hurried down to the street, where they flagged a ground-cab and were driven swiftly to the Colonial building. The same brunette girl ushered them at once into the Board room.

Inside, they found the complete Board in session, and in chairs opposite them sat Slik Bogin and his chief lieutenant, who glared at the Carvers sullenly as they entered. Hardly were the four seated when Bogin sprang to his feet.

"What's the big idea, Carver," he almost yelled, "trying to claim our discovery? You've got a crust, trying something...."

"Sit down, Mr. Bogin, and keep quiet," Chairman Wilson spoke in a low but commanding voice. "We're here to judge the facts as presented, not to indulge in charges, countercharges and vituperation. Now, the Board has examined minutely both sets of claims. Both parties have presented all the data required by us, and these have been studied by each of us individually. Dougherty," he turned to one of the Board members, "please review the data sheets for us."

A tall, serious-faced man rose, and arranged the two sets of sheets before him.

"According to the Carver claim, as presented here," he gestured toward one set of books, "they arrived at the system and made their first landing on Planet Two on January 14th of this year, 2136. The Bogin claim is that they first discovered the system and landed on Planet Three on January tenth, also of the year 2136. Both parties claim they set out the required signal-senders, although neither have been heard by our listening posts here. However, we know that signals from these senders cannot, ordinarily, be read at distances in excess of fifty light-years, and the system under consideration is said to be over sixty. We have asked the communications department to check with ships and planets nearer the system in question, to learn whether or not any signals from it have been received."

He paused a moment and looked at his fellow members first, then at the expectant six across the table. "I said that both parties have presented complete data. However, it seems to us, after careful scrutiny, that one set of data was obtained from the air and from the surface of three of the five planets, and from a height of less than twenty miles above the seven moons, and less than five from the other two planets, as our regulations specify. The other books clearly show that the observations were all taken from above the surface."

There was relief on the faces of the four Carvers, nervous side glances between Bogin and his henchman, none of which escaped the sharp eyes of the five Board members, watching closely the reactions of the two opposing parties.

"We have here the two sets of photographs, taken from a height of five miles as specified by our rulings, of the townsite that we require to be laid out." He held one set out to each party across the table. "Please examine them and let us know if you see any differences."

There was silence for several long, anxious moments, then after the two groups had studied the photographs handed them, Jon Carver suddenly let out a gasp, and looked up eagerly.

"May I speak, sirs?"

"You may."

"This is not the picture we took," indicating one. "If you will compare the two, you will find that this one was taken before the work was fully completed. See, there is a gap here along the east side where not all the stakes are in."

"Oh," his mother looked up quickly, and took up the story. "Then I was right, that time. I did hear a ship. You see, sirs," she addressed the Board members more directly, "the boys ran out of stakes and had to go to the forest there some miles to the northwest of the ship to cut more. Look, you can see just the edge of our ship right here on the margin. While they were gone, I thought I heard a ship passing over ours, but when I got to the control room and could look through a plate, either it had gone out of sight or I was mistaken. The boys said, when asked after they got back, that they had neither heard nor seen it—they were in the woods at the time. But I believe now that I did hear a ship, that it was Mr. Bogin's, and that he took this picture at that time. It took the boys nearly a day and a half longer to complete their work, and not until after that was our picture taken."

The Board chairman smiled at her, then turned a severe face toward Bogin and his lieutenant. "That is exactly what the pictures show—that one is complete and the other is not. What have you to say about that?"

The man's face was black with fury. "I say they're liars," he shouted. "This one here," shaking the photograph he held, "is our picture. That one is theirs."

Mr. Carver started to rise, but Jak was before him, and it was the latter whose voice cut through the din. "Oh, no, and I can prove which is our picture, if you will examine all the rest. I did all the developing and printing, and you'll find a small 'C' down in the lower right-hand corner of all our pictures. I marked all our negatives that way, as you can determine if you'll send someone to our ship to get the negatives from the darkroom."

The Board members huddled over the sheaves of pictures for a moment, then turned severely toward Bogin. "The young man is correct. All the Carver pictures are so marked, and so is this one of the completed townsite."

Jon Carver broke in. "Ask them to describe the animal life they found on Planet Three," he suggested.

"Well?" the Chairman looked levelly at Bogin.

"Why ... why...." The latter was quite taken aback by this sudden challenge. "Why, there are several species ... and ... and they were more or less like ours here, although not exactly like them, of course."

"Ha, that proves he was never on the ground there," Jon cried out in triumph. "We found, and so will anyone else you care to send there, that while Planet Three has a lot of vegetation and is perfectly habitable—though cold—there is absolutely no protoplasmic life to be found there. At least," he added honestly, "on any of the surface we covered, and our ship's log will show, as you can see there, that we flew at less than five miles up for eight complete but spiral revolutions about the planet, and were on the ground in several places, which we explored and photographed thoroughly."

"The young man is right," Mr. Silverman spoke up. "I noticed that fact mentioned in their records, and intended asking more about it, because this is the first planet of which I've heard, that is otherwise completely habitable by mankind, where such a condition has obtained—where there is voluminous floral life but no protoplasmic life of any kind. Being something of a botanist, that fact struck me at once."

Bogin rose, sneering, but also feeling safe in this part of his claim. "Bah! They just didn't happen to sit down in the same places we did ... if they were there at all. We saw lots of animal life there."

"And you took pictures of such life?" Mr. Carver asked pointedly.

"Why, no, it isn't required."

There was a discreet rap on the door, and when the chairman gave permission, the receptionist entered and handed him a sheet of paper. He examined it quickly, then passed it to his fellow members. The five conferred together in quick whispers for several minutes—while Bogin and his man glared in sullen anger at the Carvers.

Four of the Board members finally resumed their seats, while Chairman Wilson stood at his place. He pressed a buzzer, then took up his gavel. He struck three loud, solemn notes with it.

"It is the considered opinion of the Terran Colonial Board, here assembled in official meeting," he intoned, "that Tad Carver has proven his claim as Prime Discoverer of the Solar System henceforth to be known as 'Carveria,' and this decision shall be so entered in our records as of this date. Congratulations," he added, smiling as he turned to the happy four, who were attempting the almost impossible task of each hugging all the others at the same time.

Bogin and his lieutenant rose wrathfully and started to leave the room.

"Just a moment, Bogin," Chairman Wilson said authoritatively. "You are under arrest for an illegal attempt to defraud by false testimony."

Bogin, eyes blazing, suddenly seemed to go berserk. He drew a blaster from an underarm holster, and waved it about as he and his man backed toward the door. "You ain't gonna arrest nobody. We're leaving here—and we cinder the first one of you that moves."

But, unseen by them, the door behind had opened and three space marines, guns in hand, had entered in response to the chairman's buzzed call.

"Drop that gun, Mister," their leader said sharply, his own muzzle pushed against Bogin's back. The latter, face livid, did so. In moments the two pirates were handcuffed. The sergeant saluted the Board members. "Guards will be sent to the spaceport at once to arrest the other members of the Bogin crew, sir, pending examination and trial."

"Thank you, Sergeant. We will prefer charges at once."

As the marines started leading the two away, Bogin pulled back suddenly, and faced Mr. Carver.

"One thing I'd like to know. We were catching up with you, fast, and all of a sudden you pulled away from us as though we was standing still, yet we were all in slings, and doing three and a half G's. How'd you do it?"

Mr. Carver smiled lazily. "We're submitting a full report to The Space Pilot's Gazette. You can read it there—if they let you read where you're going."

He turned back to the Board members and again expressed the thanks of himself and his family.

Chairman Wilson held out a sheet of paper. "You may be interested in this report. It came from the Communications Center on Petrarch Three, and was the deciding factor in your case."

The four clustered close to read:

"Carver signals heard first, then ceased one by one and the Bogin signals began, although one Carver signal, the solar one, is still heard."

Mr. Carver turned to the Board members and said, "Like most crooks, Bogin was yellow. He didn't have nerve enough to run in as close to the sun as these youngsters of mine did, and so couldn't change their signal there. The boys are great planet mappers—both of them."

---

EDWARD EVERETT EVANS

was born in Coldwater, Michigan, the youngest of the four children of John and Nellie Evans.

Enlisting in the U. S. Navy after leaving high school, he served as a musician before and during the First World War. He played in concert and dance bands for several years after leaving the service and still finds enjoyment in listening to good music, although he no longer performs on any instrument.

He learned to read even before he entered kindergarten and has always had a fondness for the strange and off-trail in stories. When science fiction and fantasy first gained their own magazines, he became a regular reader of them—and still is.

Evans began attending conventions of the "fans" of science fiction with the first "Chicon," or Chicago Convention, and he has not missed one since. He finds both enjoyment and profit from meeting the people who are also interested in this kind of literature.

From reading to writing was a logical step—although not an easy one, but Mr. Evans has made the step successfully. In addition to his novels, he has over forty short stories to his credit. All of these reflect his optimism about the future of the human race, and his firm belief that the great majority of people are "swell guys." He confidently expects to see man's first spaceship make a successful flight within his lifetime—and thinks it will not be long after that before many of the astonishing happenings and forward-looking inventions of his stories will be actualities.