The Year When Stardust Fell - Raymond F. Jones (ereader for android txt) 📗

slander and false arrest and everything else in the books."

"I'll get hold of Jed Tucker when I get out of here," said Ken. "He'll talk when I get through with him!"

"Don't get yourself in a worse jam than you've stirred up already. Unless you can prove what you say, you'll just have to forget it and keep quiet."

Ken smiled suddenly. "It just occurred to me—when a banker wants to keep something safe, where does he put it?"

"In the bank, of course," said the Sheriff. "Wait a minute, you don't think...."

"Why not? The bank isn't doing business any more. Tucker is the only one, probably, who has any excuse to go down there. As long as things are the way they are, nobody else is going to get inside the vault—or even inside the building."

Professor Maddox and the Sheriff looked at each other. "It's a logical idea," said Ken's father.

"It's as crazy as the rest of it! We've made fools of ourselves already so we might as well finish the job!"

When breakfast was served the next morning, Ken found out his hunch had been right. He heard it from Miss Haskins the nurse and knew, therefore, that it must be all over town.

The nurse was wide-eyed. "What do you think?" she said, as she set out the bowl of oatmeal. "The Sheriff found that Mr. Tucker had filled his bank vault with food. He'd stolen it from the warehouse. The Sheriff's men obtained a warrant and forced Tucker to open the vault, and there were cases of canned goods stacked clear to the ceiling!"

"He must have been afraid of getting hungry," said Ken.

"To think a man like Mr. Tucker would do something like that!" She went out, clucking her tongue in exaggerated dismay.

Ken leaned back with satisfaction. He quite agreed with Miss Haskins. It was a pretty awful thing for a man like Mr. Tucker to have done.

How many others would do far worse before the winter was over?

The sun came out bright and clear after the series of heavy snowstorms. The comet added its overwhelming, golden light and tinted the world of snow. Some of the snow was melted by the tantalizing warmth, but water that had melted in the daytime froze immediately at night, and the unequal contest between the elements could have only one outcome in a prematurely cold and miserable winter.

As the pain in his head dwindled, and he was able to get about in the hospital, Ken grew more and more impatient to be released. He wondered about the heating and other facilities in the hospital and learned the Mayor's committee had ordered one wing kept open at all times, with heat and food available to care for any emergency cases.

Three days after he was allowed on his feet, Ken was told by Dr. Adams that he could be released for the hearing of the Tuckers and Mr. Allen.

Ken stared at him. "I don't want to go to any hearing! I'm going back to the laboratory!"

"You can go home," said Dr. Adams. "I want you to rest a few more days, and then I would prefer seeing you get out in the open, working with the wood crew, instead of going right back to the lab.

"As for the trial and hearing, I'm afraid you have no choice. Judge Rankin has postponed the hearing so that you could appear, and he'll issue a subpoena if necessary to insure your presence."

"They caught Tucker redhanded with his bank vault stuffed to the ceiling with stolen goods. They don't need me!"

"They tried to kill you," Dr. Adams reminded him. "That's quite different from robbing a warehouse."

"I'm not interested in their punishment. It's more important to work on the analysis of the comet dust."

But there was no way out of it. Judge Rankin ordered Ken to appear. In spite of the fact that the building was unheated, and mushy snow was falling from a heavy sky once more, the courtroom was jammed on the day of the hearing.

Ken raged inwardly at the enormous waste of human resources. Men who should have been in the hills gathering wood, women who should have been at work on clothing and food projects were there to feed on the carcasses of the reputations presently to be destroyed.

Ken had little difficulty feeling sorry for Jed. His former teammate had been a good sport in all Ken's experience of playing with him. He could almost feel pity for Jed's father, too. On the stand, the banker looked steadfastly at the floor as he answered questions in a dull, monotone voice. He admitted the theft of the warehouse goods.

Judge Rankin asked severely, "Why, Mr. Tucker? Why did you think you had any more right to hoard supplies than the rest of us?"

For the first time the banker looked up, and he met the judge's eyes. "We were scared," he said simply. "We were scared of what is going to happen this winter."

The judge's eyes flashed. "So you were scared?" he cried. "Don't you think we're all scared?"

The banker shook his head and looked at the floor. "I don't know," he said, as if in a daze. "We were just scared."

The lawyer, Allen, was more belligerent when he took the stand. "We merely did what anyone else in this courtroom would do if he had the chance, and thought of it first," he said. "Do with me what you like, but before this winter is over, I'll see you self-righteous citizens of Mayfield at each other's throats for a scrap of food."

He admitted the attack on Ken, but denied the intent to kill.

When Ken's turn came, he told his story as simply and as quickly as possible, and when he had finished he said, "I'd like to add one more word, if I may."

The judge nodded. "Go ahead, Ken."

He looked over the faces of the audience. "We've got troubles enough," he said slowly. "As much as we hate to admit it, the picture Mr. Allen gives us may be right—unless we do what we can to stop it.

"We're wasting time and resources today. My father and I should be at the laboratory. Every man and woman here is neglecting a job. We waste time, deliberating about punishment for some of our neighbors who are perhaps weaker, but certainly no more frightened than the rest of us. If we lock them up in prison somebody has to watch out for them, and the whole community is deprived of their useful labor.

"Why don't we just let them go?"

A gasp of surprise came from the spectators, but a slow illumination seemed to light the face of Judge Rankin. His eyes moved from Ken to the accused men and then to the audience.

"This court has just heard what it considers some very sound advice," he said. "Jed, Mr. Tucker, Mr. Allen...."

The three stood before him.

"I am taking it upon myself, because of the emergency conditions that confront us, to declare that the penalty for your crime is continued and incessant labor at any task the community may see fit to assign you. You are marked men. Your crime is known to every member of this community. There will be no escape from the surveillance of your neighbors and friends. I sentence you to so conduct yourselves in the eyes of these people that, if we do come through this time of crisis, you may stand redeemed for all time of the crime which you have committed.

"If you fail to do this, the punishment which will be automatically imposed is banishment from this community for the duration of the emergency.

"Court stands adjourned!"

A burst of cheers broke out in the room. The Tuckers and Mr. Allen looked as if they could not believe what they had heard. Then Jed turned suddenly and rushed toward Ken.

"It's no good saying I've been a fool, but let me say thanks for your help."

Mr. Tucker took Ken's other hand. "You'll never regret it, young man. I'll see to it that you never regret it."

"It's okay," said Ken, almost gruffly. "We've all got a lot of work to do."

He turned as a figure brushed by them. Mr. Allen pushed through the crowd to the doorway. He looked at no one.

"We were fools," said Mr. Tucker bitterly. "Brainless, scared fools."

When they were gone, Dr. Aylesworth put his hand on Ken's shoulder. "That was a mighty fine thing you did. I hope it sets a pattern for all of us in times to come."

"I didn't do it for them," said Ken. "I did it for myself."

The minister smiled and clapped the boy's shoulder again. "Nevertheless, you did it. That's what counts."

Chapter 10.
Victory of the Dust

By the time Ken was through with the ordeal in court, Art Matthews had succeeded in building an engine from entirely new parts. He had it installed in an airtight room into which only filtered air could pass.

This room, and another air filter, had been major projects in themselves. The science club members had done most of the work after their daily stint at the laboratory, while Art had scoured the town for parts that would fit together.

At the end of the hearing Ken went to the garage. The engine had been running for 5 hours then. Art was grinning like a schoolboy who had just won a spelling bee. "She sure sounds sweet," he said. "I'll bet we can keep her going as long as we have gasoline."

"I hope so," Ken said. "It's just a waste of power to let it run that way, though."

Art scratched his head. "Yeah. It's funny, power is what we've been wanting, and now we've got a little we don't know what to do with it."

"Let's see if we can find a generator," said Ken. "Charge some batteries with it. Do you think there's one in town?"

"The best deal I can think of would be to scrounge a big motor, say an elevator motor, and convert it. The one belonging to the 5-story elevator in the Norton Building is our best bet. I don't imagine it froze up before the power went out."

"Let's get it then," said Ken. "Shut this off until we're ready to use it. To be on the safe side, could you cast some new bearings for the generator?"

"I don't see why not."

When he returned home Ken told his father for the first time about the project Art was working on.

"It sounds interesting," Professor Maddox said. "I'm not sure exactly what it will prove."

Ken slumped in the large chair in the living room, weak after his exertions of the day. "It would mean that if we could find enough unfrozen engines, or could assemble them from spare parts, we could get some power equipment in operation again.

"However, as Art said about this one engine, what good is it? Dad—even if we lick this problem, how are things ever going to get started up again?"

"What do you mean?"

"We've got one automobile engine going. Pretty soon we'll run out of gas here in Mayfield. Where do we get more? We can't until the railroad can haul it, or the pipelines can pump it. What happens when the stock at the refineries is all used up? How can they get into operation again? They need power for their own plant, electricity for their pumps and engines. All of their frozen equipment has to be replaced. Maybe some of it will have to be manufactured. How do the factories and plants get started again?"

"I don't know the answers to all that," Ken's father said. "Licking the comet dust is only half the problem—and perhaps the smallest half, at that. Our economy and industry will have to start almost from scratch in getting underway. How that will come about, if it ever does, I do not know."

To conserve their ration of firewood, only a small blaze burned in the fireplace. The kitchen and living room were being heated by it alone. The rest of the house was closed off.

"We