Earthbound (Winston Science Fiction Book 1) by Milton Lesser

Author:Milton Lesser [Lesser, Milton]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Winston Juveniles, Science Fiction
Publisher: Thunderchild Publishing
Published: 2013-12-14T07:00:00+00:00

Hours later, Ganymede Gus brought their jet plane down to a bumpy landing at Ushuaia’s one airport. It was tricky going, for the field was covered with ice and high-piled drifts of snow, and a blinding blizzard howled in from the south.

Here stood Tierra del Fuego, last outpost of land in the southern ocean short of the Antarctic continent itself. And here the Indians lived timelessly in their mean hovels of ice and wood and frozen clay. You could almost sense the proximity of Antarctica, although actually thousands of miles of winter-gray ocean separated it from Tierra del Fuego. But civilization had made only small inroads. Oil lamps flickered and pulsed in the gloom outside, what looked like obsolete, propeller-type aircraft were covered by shrouds of canvas and snow; several dim figures bundled in thick, ancient furs struggled through the storm toward their jet plane.

Eagerly, Ganymede Gus opened the door, but a blast of frigid wind hurled him stumbling across the cabin. A gust of wind caught the door and threw it out all the way, banging it furiously against the fuselage.

“Close that!” Mr. Fairchild roared over the wind. “We’ll freeze!”

The three fur-bundled figures tumbled inside the ship while Pete leaned out into the cold with Gus and pulled the door back against the power of the wind. After a few moments they had it shut again, and soon the plane’s power plant had restored a snug warmth to the cabin.

“That’s much better,” Mr. Fairchild observed. “Now, do any of you men speak English?”

“English, yes!” one of the fur-bundled figures cried, throwing his hood back and letting it fall on his shoulders. The man looked like an Eskimo, Pete thought — but since this was the far south and not the north, he was an Indian of Tierra del Fuego.

“Must talk English today,” he said, grinning broadly. “All over world people must talk English to do business with men who travel. Speak English dandy.”

“Fine,” Mr. Fairchild muttered, while the two other Indians stared fascinated at the complicated control board. “My name is Fairchild. I believe we are expected.”

“Sure, kid,” said the Indian, bowing profusely. He did it all quite seriously. Evidently he thought the word “kid” signified someone of high esteem.

“We’ll need fuel,” Mr. Fairchild continued, “for which we’ll pay you, and we’ll need some of those light arctic suits, you know, the insulated kind that weigh only a couple of pounds.”

“Don’t understand.”

“Clothing — for cold weather. We’re going south.”

“South? Bad. Very cold.”

“We know that; that is why we want insulated clothing.”

“Fur coat?” the Indian demanded brightly.

“No! Insulated, insulated!”

“No understand. Only thing for warm here is fur coat. You crazy to go south.”

Pete said, “Probably, they don’t have that insulated stuff down here, Mr. Fairchild. You’ll have to settle for furs.”

“But they’re not so good! They weigh more, maybe five times as much, and they don’t keep you as warm.”

“That or nothing,” Pete persisted.

“Well, I suppose you’re right. We could have stopped for proper equipment back in the States, except that we were in a hurry to get you out of the country, Peter.

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