First Blood
The next twelve hours dragged with terrible slowness. Sleep was
impossible and eating was difficult, even though all knew that they
would have need of the full measure of their strength. Seaton set up
various combinations of switching devices connected to electrical
timers, and spent hours trying, with all his marvelous quickness of
muscular control, to cut shorter and ever shorter the time between the
opening and the closing of the switch. At last he arranged a powerful
electro-magnetic device so that one impulse would both open and close
the switch, with an open period of one one-thousandth of a second. Only
then was he satisfied.
"A thousandth is enough to give us a look around, due to persistence of
vision; and it is short enough so that they won't see it unless they
have a recording observer on us. Even if they still have rays on us,
they can't possibly neutralize our screens in that short an exposure.
All right, gang? We'll take five visiplates and cover the sphere. If any
of you get a glimpse of him, mark the exact spot and outline on the
glass. All set?"
He pressed the button. The stars flashed in the black void for an
instant, then were again shut out.
"Here he is, Dick!" shrieked Margaret. "Right here--he covered almost
half the visiplate!"
She outlined for him, as nearly as she could, the exact position of the
object she had seen, and he calculated rapidly.
"Fine business!" he exulted. "He's within half a mile of us,
three-quarters on--perfect! I thought he'd be so far away that I'd have
to take photographs to locate him. He hasn't a single ray on us, either.
That bird's goose is cooked right now, folks, unless every man on watch
has his hand right on the controls of a generator and can get into
action in less than a tenth of a second! Hang on, gang, I'm going to
step on the gas!"
After making sure that everyone was fastened immovably in their seats he
strapped himself in the pilot's seat, then set the bar toward the
strange vessel and applied fully one-third of its full power. The
_Skylark_, of course, did not move. Then, with bewildering rapidity, he
went into action; face glued to the visiplate, hands moving faster than
the eye could follow--the left closing and opening the switch
controlling the zone of force, the right swinging the steering controls
to all points of the sphere. The mighty vessel staggered this way and
that, jerking and straining terribly as the zone was thrown on and off,
lurching sickeningly about the central bearing as the gigantic power of
the driving bar was exerted, now in one direction, now in another. After
a second or two of this mad gyration, Seaton shut off the power. He then
released the zone, after assuring himself that both inner and outer
screens were operating at the highest possible rating.
"There, that'll hold 'em for a while, I guess. This battle was even
shorter than the other one--and a lot more decisive. Let's turn on the
flood-lights and see what the pieces look like."
The lights revealed that the zone of force had indeed sliced the enemy
vessel into pieces. No fragment was large enough to be navigable or
dangerous and each was sharply cut, as though sheared from its neighbor
by some gigantic curved blade. Dorothy sobbed with relief in Seaton's
arms as Crane, with one arm around his wife, grasped his hand.
"That was flawless, Dick. As an exhibition of perfect co-ordination and
instantaneous timing under extreme physical difficulties, I have never
seen its equal."
"You certainly saved all our lives," Margaret added.
"Only fifty-fifty, Peg," Seaton protested, and blushed vividly. "Mart
did most of it, you know. I'd have gummed up everything back there if he
had let me. Let's see what we can find out about them."
He touched the lever and the _Skylark_ moved slowly toward the wreckage,
the scattered fragments of which were beginning to move toward and
around each other because of their mutual gravitational forces. Snapping
on a searchlight, he swung its beam around, and as it settled upon one
of the larger sections he saw a group of hooded figures; some of them
upon the metal, others floating slowly toward it through space.
"Poor devils--they didn't have a chance," he remarked regretfully.
"However, it was either they or we--look out! Sweet spirits of niter!"
He leaped back to the controls and the others were hurled bodily to the
floor as he applied the power--for at a signal each of the hooded
figures had leveled a tube and once more the outer screen had flamed
into incandescence.
As the _Skylark_ leaped away, Seaton focussed an attractor upon the one
who had apparently signaled the attack. Rolling the vessel over in a
short loop, so that the captive was hurled off into space upon the other
side, he snatched the tube from the figure's grasp with one auxiliary
attractor, and anchored head and limbs with others, so that the prisoner
could scarcely move a muscle. Then, while Crane and the women scrambled
up off the floor and hurried to the visiplates, Seaton cut in rays six,
two-seven, and five-eight. Ray six, "the softener," was a band of
frequencies extending from violet far up into the ultra-violet. When
driven with sufficient power, this ray destroyed eyesight and nervous
tissue, and its power increased still further, actually loosened the
molecular structure of matter. Ray two-seven was operated in a range of
frequencies far below the visible red. It was pure heat--under its
action matter became hotter and hotter as long as it was applied, the
upper limit being only the theoretical maximum of temperature. Ray
five-eight was high-tension, high-frequency alternating current. Any
conductor in its path behaved precisely as it would in the Ajax-Northrup
induction furnace, which can boil platinum in ten seconds! These three
rays composed the beam which Seaton directed upon the mass of metal from
which the enemy had elected to continue the battle--and behind each ray,
instead of the small energy at the command of its Osnomian inventor,
were the untold millions of kilowatts developed by a one-hundred-pound
bar of disintegrating copper!
* * * * *
There ensued a brief but appalling demonstration of the terrible
effectiveness of those Osnomian weapons against anything not protected
by ultra-powered ray screens. Metal and men--if men they were--literally
vanished. One moment they were outlined starkly in the beam; there was a
moment of searing, coruscating, blinding light--the next moment the beam
bored on into the void, unimpeded. Nothing was visible save an
occasional tiny flash, as some condensed or solidified droplet of the
volatilized metal re-entered the path of that ravening beam.
"We'll see if there's any more of them loose," Seaton remarked, as he
shut off the force and probed into the wreckage with a searchlight.
No sign of life or of activity was revealed, and the light was turned
upon the captive. He was held motionless in the invisible grip of the
attractors, at the point where the force of those peculiar magnets was
exactly balanced by the outward thrust of the repellers. By manipulating
the attractor holding it, Seaton brought the strange tubular weapon into
the control-room through a small air-lock in the wall and examined it
curiously, but did not touch it.
"I never heard of a hand-ray before, so I guess I won't play with it
much until after I learn something about it."
"So you have taken a captive?" asked Margaret. "What are you going to do
with him?"
"I'm going to drag him in here and read his mind. He's one of the
officers of that ship, I believe, and I'm going to find out how to build
one exactly like it. This old can is now as obsolete as a 1920 flivver,
and I'm going to make us a later model. How about it, Mart, don't we
want something really up-to-date if we're going to keep on
space-hopping?"
"We certainty do. Those denizens seem to be particularly venomous, and
we will not be safe unless we have the most powerful and most efficient
space-ship possible. However, that fellow may be dangerous, even now--in
fact, it is practically certain that he is."
"You chirped it, ace. I'd much rather touch a pound of dry nitrogen
iodide. I've got him spread-eagled so that he can't destroy his brain
until after we've read it, though, so there's no particular hurry about
him. We'll leave him out there for a while, to waste his sweetness on
the desert air. Let's all look around for the _Kondal_. I sure hope they
didn't get her in that fracas."
They diffused the rays of eight giant searchlights into a vertical fan,
and with it swept slowly through almost a semi-circle before anything
was seen. Then there was revealed a cluster of cylindrical objects amid
a mass of wreckage, which Crane recognized at once.
"The _Kondal_ is gone, Dick. There is what is left of her, and most of
her cargo of salt, in jute bags."
As he spoke, a series of green flashes played upon the bags, and Seaton
yelled in relief.
"They got the ship all right, but Dunark and Sitar got away--they're
still with their salt!"
The _Skylark_ moved over to the wreck and Seaton, relinquishing the
controls to Crane, donned a vacuum suit, entered the main air-lock and
snapped on the motor which sealed off the lock, pumped the air into a
pressure-tank, and opened the outside door. He threw a light line to the
two figures and pushed himself lightly toward them. He then talked
briefly to Dunark in the hand-language, and handed the end of the line
to Sitar, who held it while the two men explored the fragments of the
strange vessel, gathering up various things of interest as they came
upon them.
Back in the control-room, Dunark and Sitar let their pressure decrease
gradually to that of the terrestrial vessel and removed the face-plates
from their helmets.
"Again, oh Karfedo of Earth, we thank you for our lives," Dunark began,
gasping for breath, when Seaton leaped to the air-gauge with a quick
apology.
"Never thought of the effect our atmospheric pressure would have on you
two. We can stand yours all right, but you'd pretty nearly pass out on
ours. There, that'll suit you better. Didn't you throw out your zone of
force?"
"Yes, as soon as I saw that our screens were not going to hold." The
Osnomians' labored breathing became normal as the air-pressure increased
to a value only a little below that of the dense atmosphere of their
native planet. "I then increased the power of the screens to the extreme
limit and opened the zone for a moment to see how the screens would hold
with the added power. That instant was enough. In that period a
concentrated beam, such as I had no idea could ever be generated, went
through the outer and inner screens as though they were not there,
through the four-foot arenak of the hull, through the entire central
installation, and through the hull on the other side. Sitar and I were
wearing suits...."
"Say, Mart, that's one bet we overlooked. It's a good idea, too--those
strangers wore them all the time as regular equipment, apparently. Next
time we get into a jam, be sure we do it; they might come in handy.
Excuse me, Dunark--go ahead."
"We had suits on, so as soon as the ray was shut off, which was almost
instantly, I phoned the crew to jump, and we leaped out through the hole
in the hull. The air rushing out gave us an impetus that carried us
many miles out into space, and it required many hours for the slight
attraction of the mass here to draw us back to it. We just got back a
few minutes ago. That air-blast is probably what saved us, as they
destroyed our vessel with atomic bombs and hunted down the four men of
our crew, who stayed comparatively close to the scene. They rayed you
for about an hour with the most stupendous beams imaginable--no such
generators have ever been considered possible of construction--but
couldn't make any impression upon you. Then they shut off their power
and stood by, waiting. I wasn't looking at you when you released your
zone. One moment it was there, and the next, the stranger had been cut
in pieces. The rest you know."
"We're sure glad you two got away, Dunark. Well, Mart, what say we drag
that guy in and give him the once-over?"
* * * * *
Seaton swung the attractors holding the prisoner until they were in line
with the main air-lock, then reduced the power of the repellers. As he
approached the lock various controls were actuated, and soon the
stranger stood in the control room, held immovable against one wall,
while Crane, with a 0.50-caliber elephant gun, stood against the other.
"Perhaps you girls should go somewhere else," suggested Crane.
"Not on your life!" protested Dorothy, who, eyes wide and flushed with
excitement, stood near a door, with a heavy automatic pistol in her
hand. "I wouldn't miss this for a farm!"
"Got him solid," declared Seaton, after a careful inspection of the
various attractors and repellers he had bearing upon the prisoner, "Now
let's get him out of that suit. No--better read his air first,
temperature and pressure--might analyze it, too."
Nothing could be seen of the person of the stranger, since he was
encased in vacuum armor, but it was plainly evident that he was very
short and immensely broad and thick. By means of hollow needles forced
through the leather-like material of the suit Seaton drew off a sample
of the atmosphere within, into an Orsat apparatus, while Crane made
pressure and temperature readings.
"Temperature, one hundred ten degrees. Pressure, twenty-eight
pounds--about the same as ours is, now that we have stepped it up to
keep the Osnomians from suffering."
Seaton soon reported that the atmosphere was quite similar to that of
the _Skylark_, except that it was much higher in carbon dioxide and
carried an extremely high percentage of water vapor. He took up a pair
of heavy shears and laid the suit open full length, on both sides,
knowing that the powerful attractors would hold the stranger immovable.
He then wrenched off the helmet and cast the whole suit aside, revealing
the enemy officer, clad in a tunic of scarlet silk.
He was less than five feet tall. His legs were merely blocks, fully as
great in diameter as they were in length, supporting a torso of
Herculean dimensions. His arms were as large as a strong man's thigh and
hung almost to the floor. His astounding shoulders, fully a yard across,
merged into and supported an enormous head. The being possessed
recognizable nose, ears, and mouth; and the great domed forehead and
huge cranium bespoke an immense and a highly developed brain.
But it was the eyes of this strange creature that fixed and held the
attention. Large they were, and black--the dull, opaque, lusterless
black of platinum sponge. The pupils were a brighter black, and in them
flamed ruby lights: pitiless, mocking, cold. Plainly to be read in those
sinister depths were the untold wisdom of unthinkable age, sheer
ruthlessness, mighty power, and ferocity unrelieved. His baleful gaze
swept from one member of the party to another, and to meet the glare of
those eyes was to receive a tangible physical blow--it was actually
ponderable force; that of embodied hardness and of ruthlessness
incarnate, generated in that merciless brain and hurled forth through
those flame-shot, Stygian orbs.
"If you don't need us for anything, Dick, I think Peggy and I will go
upstairs," Dorothy broke the long silence.
"Good idea, Dot. This isn't going to be pretty to watch--or to do,
either, for that matter."
"If I stay here another minute I'll see that thing as long as I live;
and I might be very ill. Goodbye," and heartless and bloodthirsty
Osnomian though she was, Sitar had gone to join the two Terrestrial
women.
"I didn't want to say much before the girls, but I want to check a
couple of ideas with you two. Don't you think it's a safe bet that this
bird reported back to his headquarters?"
"I have been thinking that very thing," Crane spoke gravely, and Dunark
nodded agreement. "Any race capable of developing such a vessel as this
would almost certainly have developed systems of communication in
proportion."
"That's the way I doped it out--and that's why I'm going to read his
mind, if I have to burn out his brain to do it. We've got to know how
far away from home he is, whether he has turned in any report about us,
and all about it. Also, I'm going to get the plans, power, and armament
of their most modern ships, if he knows them, so that your gang, Dunark,
can build us one like them; because the next boat that tackles us will
be warned and we won't be able to take it by surprise. We won't stand a
chance in the _Skylark_. With a ship like theirs, however, we can
run--or we can fight, if we have to. Any other ideas, fellows?"
* * * * *
As neither Crane nor Dunark had any other suggestions to offer, Seaton
brought out the mechanical educator, watching the creature's eyes
narrowly. As he placed one headset over that motionless head the captive
sneered in pure contempt, but when the case was opened and the array of
tubes and transformers was revealed, that expression disappeared; and
when he added a super-power stage by cutting in a heavy-duty transformer
and a five-kilowatt transmitting tube, Seaton thought that he saw an
instantaneously suppressed flicker of doubt or fear.
"That headset thing was child's play to him, but he doesn't like the
looks of this other stuff at all. I don't blame him a bit--I wouldn't
like to be on the receiving end of this hook-up myself. I'm going to put
him on the recorder and on the visualizer," Seaton continued as he
connected spools of wire and tape, lamps, and lenses in an intricate
system and donned a headset. "I'd hate to have much of that brain in my
own skull--afraid I'd bite myself. I'm just going to look on, and when I
see anything I want, I'll grab it and put it into my own brain. I'm
starting off easy, not using the big tube."
He closed several switches, lights flashed, and the wires and tapes
began to feed through the magnets.
"Well, I've got his language, folks, he seemed to want me to have it.
It's got a lot of stuff in it that I can't understand yet, though, so
guess I'll give him some English."
He changed several connections and the captive spoke, in a profoundly
deep bass voice.
"You may as well discontinue your attempt, for you will gain no
information from me. That machine of yours was out of date with us
thousands of years ago."
"Save your breath or talk sense," said Seaton, coldly. "I gave you
English so that you can give me the information I want. You already know
what it is. When you get ready to talk, say so, or throw it on the
screen of your own accord. If you don't, I'll put on enough voltage to
burn your brain out. Remember, I can read your dead brain as well as
though it were alive, but I want your thoughts, as well as your
knowledge, and I'm going to have them. If you give them voluntarily, I
will tinker up a lifeboat that you can navigate back to your own world
and let you go; if you resist I intend getting them anyway and you shall
not leave this vessel alive. You may take your choice."
"You are childish, and that machine is impotent against my will. I could
have defied it a hundred years ago, when I was barely a grown man. Know
you, American, that we supermen of the Fenachrone are as far above any
of the other and lesser breeds of beings who spawn in their millions in
their countless myriads of races upon the numberless planets of the
Universe as you are above the inert metal from which this, your ship,
was built. The Universe is ours, and in due course we shall take
it--just as in due course I shall take this vessel. Do your worst; I
shall not speak." The creature's eyes flamed, hurling a wave of hypnotic
command through Seaton's eyes and deep into his brain. Seaton's very
senses reeled for an instant under the impact of that awful mental
force; but after a short, intensely bitter struggle he threw off the
spell.
"That was close, fellow, but you didn't quite ring the bell," he said
grimly, staring directly into those unholy eyes. "I may rate pretty low
mentally, but I can't be hypnotized into turning you loose. Also I can
give you cards and spades in certain other lines which I am about to
demonstrate. Being superman didn't keep the rest of your men from going
out in my ray, and being a superman isn't going to save your brain. I am
not depending upon my intellectual or mental force--I've got an ace in
the hole in the shape of five thousand volts to apply to the most
delicate centers of your brain. Start giving me what I want, and start
quick, or I'll tear it out of you."
The giant did not answer, merely glared defiance and bitter hate.
"Take it, then!" Seaton snapped, and cut in the super-power stage and
began turning dials and knobs, exploring that strange mind for the
particular area in which he was most interested. He soon found it, and
cut in the visualizer--the stereographic device, in parallel with
Solon's own brain recorder, which projected a three-dimensional picture
into the "viewing-area" or dark space of the cabinet. Crane and Dunark,
tense and silent, looked on in strained suspense as, minute after
minute, the silent battle of wills raged. Upon one side was a horrible
and gigantic brain, of undreamed of power; upon the other side a strong
man, fighting for all that life holds dear, wielding against that
monstrous and frightful brain a weapon wrought of high-tension
electricity, applied with all the skill that earthly and Osnomian
science could devise.
Seaton crouched over the amplifier, his jaw set and every muscle taut,
his eyes leaping from one meter to another, his right hand slowly
turning up the potentiometer which was driving more and ever more of the
searing, torturing output of his super-power tube into that stubborn
brain. The captive was standing utterly rigid, eyes closed, every sense
and faculty mustered to resist that cruelly penetrant attack upon the
very innermost recesses of his mind. Crane and Dunark scarcely breathed
as the three-dimensional picture in the visualizer varied from a blank
to the hazy outlines of a giant space-cruiser. It faded out as the
unknown exerted himself to withstand that poignant inquisition, only to
come back in, clearer than before, as Seaton advanced the potentiometer
still farther. Finally, flesh and blood could no longer resist that
lethal probe and the picture became sharp and clear. It showed the
captain--for he was no less an officer than the commander of the
vessel--at a great council table, seated, together with many other
officers, upon very low, enormously strong metal stools. They were
receiving orders from their Emperor; orders plainly understood by Crane
and the Osnomian alike, for thought needs no translation.
"Gentlemen of the Navy," the ruler spoke solemnly, "Our preliminary
expedition, returned some time ago, achieved its every aim, and we are
now ready to begin fulfilling our destiny, the Conquest of the Universe.
This Galaxy comes first. Our base of operations will be the largest
planet of that group of brilliant green suns, for they can be seen from
any point in the Galaxy and are almost in the exact center of it. Our
astronomers," here the captain's thoughts shifted briefly to an
observatory far out in space for perfect seeing, and portrayed a
reflecting telescope with a mirror five miles in diameter, capable of
penetrating unimaginable myriads of light-years into space, "have
tabulated all the suns, planets, and satellites belonging to this
Galaxy, and each of you has been given a complete chart and assigned a
certain area which he is to explore. Remember, gentlemen, that this
first major expedition is to be purely one of exploration; the one of
conquest will set out after you have returned with complete information.
You will each report by torpedo every tenth of the year. We do not
anticipate any serious difficulty, as we are of course the highest type
of life in the Universe; nevertheless, in the unlikely event of trouble,
report it. We shall do the rest. In conclusion, I warn you again--let no
people know that we exist. Make no conquests, and destroy all who by any
chance may see you. Gentlemen, go with power."
The captain embarked in a small airboat and was shot to his vessel. He
took his station at an immense control board and the warship shot off
instantly, with unthinkable velocity, and with not the slightest
physical shock.
At this point Seaton made the captain take them all over the ship. They
noted its construction, its power-plant, its controls--every minute
detail of structure, operation, and maintenance was taken from the
captain's mind and was both recorded and visualized.
* * * * *
The journey seemed to be a very long one, but finally the cluster of
green suns became visible and the Fenachrone began to explore the solar
systems in the area assigned to that particular vessel. Hardly had the
survey started, however, when the two globular space-cruisers were
detected and located. The captain stopped the ship briefly, then
attacked. They watched the attack, and saw the destruction of the
_Kondal_. They looked on while the captain read the brain of one of
Dunark's crew, gleaning from it all the facts concerning the two
space-ships, and thought with him that the two absentees from the
_Kondal_ would drift back in a few hours, and would be disposed of in
due course. They learned that these things were automatically impressed
upon the torpedo next to issue, as was every detail of everything that
happened in and around the vessel. They watched him impress a thought of
his own upon the record--"the inhabitants of planet three of sun six
four seven three Pilarone show unusual development and may cause
trouble, as they have already brought knowledge of the metal of power
and of the impenetrable shield to the Central System, which is to be our
base. Recommend volatilization of this planet by vessel sent on special
mission." They saw the raying of the _Skylark_. They sensed him issue
commands:
"Ray it for a time; he will probably open the shield for a moment, as
the other one did," then, after a time skipped over by the mind under
examination. "Cease raying--no use wasting power. He must open
eventually, as he runs out of power. Stand by and destroy him when he
opens."
The scene shifted. The captain was asleep and was awakened by an alarm
gong--only to find himself floating in a mass of wreckage. Making his
way to the fragment of his vessel containing the torpedo port, he
released the messenger, which flew, with ever-increasing velocity, back
to the capital city of the Fenachrone, carrying with it a record of
everything that had happened.
"That's what I want," thought Seaton. "Those torpedoes went home, fast.
I want to know how far they have to go and how long it'll take them to
get there. You know what distance a parsec is, since it is purely a
mathematical concept; and you must have a watch or some similar
instrument with which we can translate your years into ours. I don't
want to have to kill you, fellow, and if you'll give up even now I'll
spare you. I'll get it anyway, you know--and you also know that a few
hundred volts more will kill you."
They saw the thought received, and saw its answer: "You shall learn no
more. This is the most important of all, and I shall hold it to
disintegration and beyond."
Seaton advanced the potentiometer still farther, and the brain picture
waxed and waned, strengthened and faded. Finally, however, it was
revealed by flashes that the torpedo had about a hundred and fifty-five
thousand parsecs to go and that it would take two-tenths of a year to
make the journey; that the warships which would come in answer to the
message were as fast as the torpedo; that he did indeed have in his suit
a watch--a device of seven dials, each turning ten times as fast as its
successor; and that one turn of the slowest dial measured one year of
his time. Seaton instantly threw off his headset and opened the power
switch.
"Grab a stopwatch quick, Mart!" he called, as he leaped to the discarded
vacuum suit and searched out the peculiar timepiece. They noted the
exact time consumed by one complete revolution of one of the dials, and
calculated rapidly.
"Better than I thought!" exclaimed Seaton. "That makes his year about
four hundred ten of our days. That gives us eighty-two days before the
torpedo gets there--longer than I'd dared hope. We've got to fight, too,
not run. They figure on getting the _Skylark_, then volatilizing our
world. Well, we can take time enough to grab off an absolutely complete
record of this guy's brain. We'll need it for what's coming, and I'm
going to get it, if I have to kill him to do it."
He resumed his place at the educator, turned on the power, and a shadow
passed over his face.
"Poor devil, he's conked out--couldn't stand the gaff," he remarked,
half-regretfully. "However that makes it easy to get what we want, and
we'd have had to kill him anyway, I guess--Bad as it is, I'd hate to
bump him off in cold blood."
He threaded new spools into the machine, and for three hours, mile after
mile of tape sped between the magnets as Seaton explored every recess of
that monstrous, yet stupendous brain.
"Well, that's that," he declared finally, as, the last bit of
information gleaned and recorded upon the flying tape, he removed the
body of the Fenachrone captain into space and rayed it out of existence.
"Now what to do?"
"How can we get this salt to Osnome?" asked Dunark whose thoughts were
never far from that store of the precious chemical. "You are already
crowded, and Sitar and I will crowd you still more. You have no room for
additional cargo, and yet much valuable time would be lost in going to
Osnome for another vessel."
"Yes, and we've got to get a lot of 'X', too. Guess we'll have to take
time to get another vessel. I'd like to drag in the pieces of that ship,
too--his instruments and a lot of the parts could be used."
"Why not do it all at once?" suggested Crane. "We can start that whole
mass toward Osnome by drawing it behind us until such a velocity has
been attained that it will reach there at the desired time. We could
then go to 'X,' and overtake this material near the green system."
"Right you are, ace--that's a sound idea. But say, Dunark, it wouldn't
be good technique for you to eat our food for any length of time. While
we're figuring this out you'd better hop over there and bring over
enough to last you two until we get you home. Give it to Shiro--after a
couple of lessons, you'll find he'll be as good as any of your cooks."
* * * * *
Faster and faster the _Skylark_ flew, pulling behind her the mass of
wreckage, held by every available attractor. When the calculated
velocity had been attained, the attractors were shut off and the vessel
darted away toward that planet, still in the Carboniferous Age, which
possessed at least one solid ledge of metallic "X," the rarest of all
earthly metals. As the automatic controls held the cruiser upon her
course, the six wanderers sat long in discussion as to what should be
done, what could be done, to avert the threatened destruction of all the
civilization of the Galaxy except the monstrous and unspeakable culture
of the Fenachrone. Nearing their destination, Seaton rose to his feet.
"Well, folks, it's like this. We've got our backs to the wall. Dunark
has troubles of his own--if the Third Planet doesn't get him the
Fenachrone will, and the Third Planet is the more pressing danger. That
lets him out. We've got nearly six months before the Fenachrone can get
back here...."
"But how can they possibly find us here, or wherever we'll be by that
time, Dick?" asked Dorothy. "The battle was a long way from here."
"With that much start they probably couldn't find us," Seaton replied
soberly. "It's the world I'm thinking about. They've got to be stopped,
and stopped cold--and we've got only six months to do it in.... Osnome's
got the best tools and the fastest workmen I know of...." his voice died
away in thought.
"That sort of thing is in your department, Dick."
Crane was calm and judicial as always. "I will, of course, do anything I
can. But you probably have a plan of campaign already laid out?"
"After a fashion. We've got to find out how to work through this zone of
force or we're sunk without a trace. Even with rays, screens, and ships
equal to theirs, we couldn't keep them from sending a vessel to destroy
the earth; and they'd probably get us too, eventually. They've got a lot
of stuff we don't know about, of course, since I took only one man's
mind. While he was a very able man, he didn't know all that all the rest
of them do, any more than any one man has all the earthly science known.
Absolutely our only chance is to control that zone--it's the only thing
they haven't got. Of course, it may be impossible, but I won't believe
that, until I've exhausted a lot of possibilities. Dunark, can you spare
a crew to build us a duplicate of that Fenachrone ship, besides those
you are going to build for yourself?"
"Certainly. I will be only too glad to do so."
"Well, then, while Dunark is doing that, I suggest that we go to this
Third Planet, abduct a few of their leading scientists, and read their
minds. Then do the same, visiting every other highly advanced planet we
can locate. There is a good chance that, by combining the best points of
the warfares of many worlds, we can evolve something that will enable us
to turn back these invaders."
"Why not send a copper torpedo to destroy their entire planet?"
suggested Dunark.
"Wouldn't work. Their detecting screens would locate it a thousand
million miles off in space, and they would ray it. With a zone of force
that would get through their screens, that would be the first thing I'd
do. You see, every thought comes back to that zone. We've got to get
through it some way."
The course alarm sounded, and they saw that a planet lay directly in
their path. It was "X," and enough negative acceleration was applied to
make an easy landing possible.
"Isn't it going to be a long, slow job, chopping off two tons of that
metal and fighting away those terrible animals besides?" asked Margaret.
"It'll take about a millionth of a second, Peg. I'm going to bite it off
with the zone, just as I took that bite out of our field. The rotation
of the planet will throw us away from the surface, then we'll release
the zone and drag our prey off with us. See?"
The _Skylark_ descended rapidly toward that well-remembered ledge of
metal to which the object compass had led them.
"This is exactly where we landed before," Margaret commented in
surprise, and Dorothy added:
"Yes, and there's that horrible tree that ate the dinosaur or whatever
it was. I thought you blew it up for me, Dick?"
"I did, Dottie--blew it into atoms. Must be a good location for
carnivorous trees--and they must grow awfully fast, too. As to its being
the same place, Peg--sure it is. That's what object compasses are for."
Everything appeared as it had been at the time of their first visit. The
rank Carboniferous vegetation, intensely, vividly green, was motionless
in the still, hot, heavy air; the living nightmares inhabiting that
primitive world were lying in the cooler depths of the jungle, sheltered
from the torrid rays of that strange and fervent sun.
"How about it, Dot? Want to see some of your little friends again? If
you do, I'll give them a shot and bring them out."
"Heavens, no! I saw them once--if I never see them again, that will be
twenty minutes too soon!"
"All right--we'll grab us a piece of this ledge and beat it."
Seaton lowered the vessel to the ledge, focussed the main anchoring
attractor upon it, and threw on the zone of force. Almost immediately he
released the zone, pointed the bar parallel to the compass bearing upon
Osnome, and slowly applied the power.
"How much did you take, anyway?" asked Dunark in amazement. "It looks
bigger than the _Skylark_!"
"It is; considerably bigger. Thought we might as well take enough while
we're here, so I set the zone for a seventy-five-foot radius. It's
probably of the order of magnitude of half a million tons, since the
stuff weighs more than half a ton to the cubic foot. However, we can
handle it as easily as we could a smaller bite, and that much mass will
help us hold that other stuff together when we catch up with it."
* * * * *
The voyage to Osnome was uneventful. They overtook the wreckage, true to
schedule, as they were approaching the green system, and attached it to
the mass of metal behind them by means of attractors.
"Where'll we land this junk, Dunark?" asked Seaton, as Osnome grew large
beneath them. "We'll hold this lump of metal and the fragment of the
ship carrying the salt; and we'll be able to hold some of the most
important of the other stuff. But a lot of it is bound to get away from
us--and the Lord help anybody who's under it when it comes down! You
might yell for help--and say, you might ask somebody to have that
astronomical data ready for us as soon as we land."
"The parade ground will be empty now, so we will land there," Dunark
replied. "We should be able to land everything in a field of that size,
I should think." He touched the sender at his belt, and in the general
code notified the city of their arrival and warned everyone to keep away
from the parade ground. He then sent several messages in the official
code, concluding by asking that one or two space-ships come out and help
lower the burden to the ground. As the peculiar, pulsating chatter of
the Osnomian telegraph died out, Seaton called for help.
"Come here, you two, and grab some of these attractors. I need about
twelve hands to keep this plunder in the straight and narrow path."
The course had been carefully laid, with allowance for the various
velocities and forces involved, to follow the easiest path to the
Kondalian parade ground. The hemisphere of "X" and the fragment of the
_Kondal_ which bore the salt were held immovably in place by the main
attractor and one auxiliary; and many other auxiliaries held sections of
the Fenachrone vessel. However, the resistance of the air seriously
affected the trajectory of many of the irregularly shaped smaller masses
of metal, and all three men were kept busy flicking attractors right and
left; capturing those strays which threatened to veer off into the
streets or upon the buildings of the Kondalian capital city, and
shifting from one piece to another so that none should fall freely. Two
sister-ships of the _Kondal_ appeared as if by magic in answer to
Dunark's call, and their attractors aided greatly in handling the unruly
collection of wreckage. A few of the smaller sections and a shower of
debris fell clear, however, in spite of all efforts, and their approach
was heralded by a meteoric display unprecedented in that world of
continuous daylight.
As the three vessels with their cumbersome convoy dropped down into the
lower atmosphere, the guns of the city roared a welcome; banners and
pennons waved; the air became riotous with color from hundreds of
projectors and odorous with a bewildering variety of scents; while all
around them played numberless aircraft of all descriptions and sizes.
The space below them was carefully avoided, but on all sides and above
them the air was so full that it seemed marvelous that no collision
occurred. Tiny one-man helicopters, little more than single chairs
flying about; beautiful pleasure-planes, soaring and wheeling; immense
multiplane liners and giant helicopter freighters--everything in the air
found occasion to fly as near as possible to the Skylark in order to dip
their flags in salute to Dunark, their Kofedix, and to Seaton, the
wearer of the seven disks--their revered Overlord.
Finally the freight was landed without serious mishap and the _Skylark_
leaped to the landing dock upon the palace roof, where the royal family
and many nobles were waiting, in full panoply of glittering harness.
Dunark and Sitar disembarked and the four others stepped out and stood
at attention as Seaton addressed Roban, the Karfedix.
"Sir, we greet you, but we cannot stop, even for a moment. You know that
only the most urgent necessity would make us forego the pleasure of a
brief rest beneath your roof--the Kofedix will presently give you the
measure of that dire need. We shall endeavor to return soon. Greetings,
and, for a time, farewell."
"Overlord, we greet you, and trust that soon we may entertain you and
profit from your companionship. For what you have done, we thank you.
May the great First Cause smile upon you until your return. Farewell."