VIII.

The days that followed were busy, indeed. Maynard found that the

increase in rank not only gave him more pay, but more authority too.

He was now entitled, by his rank of senior executive, to command one of

the speedy, small destroyers, and his command was being prepared for

him.

Unlike other, normal commands, the _Asterite_ was being fitted with

laboratory equipment, and was to be staffed with technical men. Maynard

found himself literally swamped with paper work, and he was expected

to supervise the installation of the equipment too. But he found time

to dine with Kane twice, and the publisher extracted a promise from

Maynard that the young officer should co-operate with him.

When the time for leaving was at hand, Guy made his parting with Laura

Greggor at the Greggor home. Laura, realizing that her actions had not

been too complimentary to him, was duly affectionate. Guy left there

with his heart high and his spirit unbeatable.

He went home and packed, and as he was leaving for the _Asterite_, he

paused and knocked on Joan's door. There was no answer, and so Maynard

asked Mother Andrew to tell the girl good-by for him.

The elderly woman smiled cheerfully and said: "She knew she'd miss you,

Guy. She left this letter. You're to read it after you get aboard your

command."

"After?" asked Maynard. "Nonsense." He ripped the envelope and read:

Dear Guy:

I was right. You were lonely. Space must be lonely; even if for no

other reason than its vastness. I've been told before, but I didn't

realize. You've been lonely, Guy, and you will be lonely again,

once you are back in space. I may not keep you from loneliness

there, Guy, but please, never be lonely again when at home.

Joan.

"She's a fine girl," said Guy.

"Joan Forbes is one of the world's finest," said Mother Andrew

positively. She was gratified to see him put the letter in an inside

pocket as he left. What was in Guy's mind, she could not guess, but she

believed that he was slightly muddled, for some reason.

* * * * *

Guy was confused. There was something wrong with the way things went,

and he was not brilliant enough to understand the trouble. He gave it

up as a major problem after trying several times to unravel the tangle.

Then, too, there was no time to think about it. His problem lost

importance when displayed against the program he had set out to cover.

And as the miles and the days sped by, the problem at hand became

the important thing, and the other problem died in dimness. The

_Asterite_ moved swiftly out into the region beyond the Belt, and into

a completely untenanted region that was marked by absolutely nothing.

On his astrogator's chart, a dotted line was labeled Neptune, but the

planet itself was almost in quadrature with that position. Pluto was

on the far side of Sol from him, and Saturn and Uranus were motes of

unwinking light in almost-opposition to Neptune.

He was alone with his crew. They worked diligently, setting up

the barrier-screen generators, and when they had them working to

satisfaction, they tried variations.

The pilot worked upon their course day by day until it was corrected

and stable; an orbit about a mythical point, the centripetal force

of the outward-directed drive being in balance with the centrifugal

force of their orbit. It made them a neat 1-G for stability, and did

not cause them to cover astral units in seconds, or require continuous

turnovers for deceleration and return, which would have been the case

had no orbit been established.

Their work progressed. The neat, orderly arrangement of the scanning

room became slightly haywire as they ran jury-rigged circuits in from

the barrier-generators.

No petty quarreling marred their work. This was partly due to the

training of the men at Patrol School, and partly due to Maynard's

foresight in picking his crew. He had done a masterful job, for in this

kind of job, the tedious nature of flight was amplified, and the lack

of any variation in the day's duration, or of one day from the one past

or the one coming next, made men rub each other the wrong way.

And part of it was due to the nature of the job, enigmatically. They

were working on something entirely new. It was interesting to watch the

results pile up, and to add to the diary of the experiment the day's

observations and the opinions of the workers.

Then as the end came in sight, the inevitable irritation flared briefly

as the technician tossed his chessboard aside with a snort and stamped

to his quarters. It might have started a long chain of events if a

real diversion had not presented itself, right in the technician's

department.

Maynard heard the communicator snap on, and listened.

"Technician to Executive: Spacecraft approaching. Range extreme, about

one point seven megs."

"One million, seven hundred miles," said Maynard aloud. "Technician:

can you get a reading?"

"The cardex is chewing on the evidence, sir," came the reply.

"Let me know as soon as you get the answer, Stan."

"O.K. Here it is. It is the _Loki_, a private craft owned by the

publisher, Kane. Want the vital statistics?"

"Forget the color of eyes, weight, and fighting trim," smiled Maynard.

"What's his course and velocity?"

"Deceleration at about 4-Gs, course within ten thousand miles of us.

Velocity less than a thousand miles per second."

"How soon can we match her speed?"

"Depends upon their willingness. Perhaps ten or twelve hours will do

it," answered Stan. "Get your astrogator on it."

"Executive to astrogator: Have you been listening?"

"Astrogator. You bet, and Stan's wild. Make it fourteen hours."

"Executive to pilot: Contact astrogator and follow course. Stan, will

you try to contact them? I think it's your job, since they're at

extreme range. Communications, you try with the standard sets, but I

will not have any tinkering with the set-up in an effort to get another

mile of range out of it."

"This is Stan. I have them on a weakling signals, they're asking for

you."

"Tell 'em I'm here and we'll see 'em later. Check their course and

prepare to match it. Then tell 'em to keep silence. That's an official

order. Follow?"

"Check."

* * * * *

Fourteen hours later, Thomas Kane came across the intervening space in

a tender and shook Maynard by the hand.

"Kane! How are you?"

"Fine. And you?"

"The same. But how did you find us?"

"Did a little ferreting."

"Did you know this is restricted space?"

"Sure, but forget it. How's the experiment?"

"Excellent."

"Mind telling all?"

"No. We set up a barrier on the _Asterite_, here, and have been testing

and investigating it for months, as you know."

"Have you licked the main bugaboo?"

"We'll never lick that one. The drive, being a type of radiation, will

not pass the barrier and so will not drive us. We can not discover a

range of radiation that passes outward at all, though there is some

minute leakage. The latter is absolutely insufficient to do any good."

"Too bad."

"It is. But the barrier is a good thing."

"Oh, it'll serve in spite of its difficulties."

"We developed the reverse, too. In addition to the barrier, we have

what we call a disperser. It is the reverse of the barrier in every

way."

"That's interesting. You can drive through that one?"

"Yes, but that's strictly impractical for space maneuvers. You see,

both barriers are tenuous with regard to material bodies. A torpedo

will pass without knowing that a barrier is there. And no ship can

hope to match acceleration with a torpedo, roaring along at a hundred

Gs or better. The barrier will keep a ship from detection, but it

is sudden death to the ship if its presence is known. AutoMacs will

burn the ship to nothing, torpedoes will enter and blast. Even misses

with the AutoMacs cause trouble because their energy goes into the

barrier-sphere and remains, reflecting off of the insides of the sphere

until absorbed by the ship. The trick in use is to speed up and stab

with torpedoes, and then continue on your course undetected until a

safe distance is covered.

"The disperser screen is opposite. It will protect against AutoMacs

or any other energy. It is detectable in itself, since it reflects

anything sent against it, and also passes any inside energy right out

through the screen. A ship with one of those is bear-meat. The AutoMacs

wouldn't be used at all, a torpedo will be shot out to blast it from

the universe. No, the disperser is useless."

"Do torpedoes work on the barrier?"

"Not too well," said Maynard. "You see, their aiming and steering

circuits are useless until a target is set. Since the sphere is

nonradiating, the only way you can fire a torpedo into a sub-ship is

to aim it well and drive it into the barrier-screen by sheer aim. Once

inside the screen, however, it will track the target. It will bar

against drive-interferers, too. But take my word for it, there is

nothing good about the disperser."

"How about combining them?"

"We had that idea, too," laughed Maynard. "No dice."

"Why? Seems to me--?"

"When the barrier is equal to the disperser, they cancel, believe it

or not. If the barrier is put inside of the disperser, the disperser

can not form since the barrier also bars the radiation that sets up

the disperser screen. It will also bar the idea of establishing two

barriers, too, by the way. On the other hand, if the disperser is put

inside of the barrier, they can be held. But--and this is a big but,

Kane, energy enters the barrier, and energy emanates from the ship, and

there is a stress set up in the volume between the two spheres that

sets up a counter force that blows the generators right out of this

universe."

"You seem to have seen the whole works," smiled Kane.

"You know, I can't even see the idea of carrying this disperser

equipment on a detector to go up in case of attack with AutoMacs,

even if it could be made to establish instantly. Just takes up good

room--the generators, I mean."

"What's the generating time?"

"Seventy-three milliseconds is the best we've been able to clock.

That's a close screen, and it takes considerable stability in the

generators to hold it. The best barriers for distance and power

establish in point one nine eight seconds. Anything beyond that

would require too much holding power, anything closer requires more

generator stability."

"How does instability affect the screen?"

"Won't hold up. It collapses, and the build-up begins from zero again.

That would be dangerous."

"You've been a busy boy," smiled Kane. "Also a definite credit to us

all."

"Thanks."

"And how do you intend to operate this thing in practice?" asked Kane.

"Not attack, in defense. I mean?"

"We've got the thing hitched to the finders," Maynard punched a

switch. "Now, for instance, if anything that radiates comes within

detector range of us, the barrier goes on. You'll see that everything

is tacked down. We've been trying it out with the tenders, and the

first time we did it, we went free and everything floated around the

place in no-gravity. We're now protected, and if your pilot should kick

his drive, we'd go free." Maynard adjusted three dials. "Now," he said,

"the spotter is set to neglect any radiation from the _Loki_. We can

set up many such channels, compensating for every ship in a flight, and

yet have the whole flight protected in case of intrusion by another

ship."

"You've got everything all set, haven't you?"

"Just about. If we had torpedoes, we could declare a private war on

Mars."

"Then you're about finished?"

"Just about. Want to come in with us, or will you go in the _Loki_?"

"I'll ride with you, if you do not mind."

"Not at all," smiled Guy. "Executive to Communications: Inform _Loki_

that Kane will return with us, and to make for Terra immediately."

"Check."

"We'll lose him," grinned Guy. "We're all set for 5-G."

"He'll take it easy, at three. I don't mind."

"Executive to Pilot: Take course for Terra at five!"

"Check!"

* * * * *

The _Asterite_ turned and left the _Loki_ far behind, and the velocity

began to build up for the return trip. An hour later, with the

_Asterite_ bettering a hundred miles per second, the second incident

occurred. It came as a complete surprise, since they were running

through a restricted space, and Maynard remarked that it looked more

like a public thoroughfare.

The finder-alarm clanged stridently, and immediately the ship went

free. Men clutched at the hand-rails, and as they settled down, the

technician took the communicator and started to speak excitably:

"Technician to crew: Hold your hats! We're about to be passed by the

_Orionad_!"

"_Orionad?_ Holy Pete!" exploded Maynard. "See that this confounded

screen doesn't fail. If it dies, so do we!"

"Huh?" asked Kane.

"This restricted space was created for the _Orionad_ to return through.

The nature of the restriction is such that anyone of official nature

will be warned, and no civil traffic will be cleared through here. I am

here because I didn't think the _Orionad_ was due to return yet, and

you came because you probably left without clearance. Right?"

"Right."

"Well, the _Orionad_ believes that anybody who is in the restricted

space is an enemy; spying upon their course. The consequences are

clear."

"I hope they hold that screen," said Kane. "But what about Jimmy? My

pilot?"

Maynard groaned. "He's several thousand miles behind, and any attempts

to save him would fail. The _Orionad_ will recognize no incoming

signals. Nothing we can do will save him!" Maynard groaned, and then

he brightened briefly. "Stan!" he called. "What's the chances of the

_Orionad_ missing the _Loki_?"

"Not too bad," said the technician. "They'll be running with their

finder at cruising range, and they'll just touch us. _Loki_ is sliding

sidewise and may be out of range."

"We hope. Well, keep it going, fellows. This may be dangerous."

Time passed slowly and ponderously, and the _Orionad_ caught up and

passed the _Loki_ without seeing or detecting the publisher's ship. Of

this, Maynard was certain, since the celestial globe would have flared

briefly had any action been taken against the _Loki_.

Then as the _Orionad_ passed the _Asterite_, Maynard said: "Chalk us

up a win, Kane. Your crate is safe."

"You're certain?"

"I am. _Loki_ is now beyond range of our detector, which was souped

up and is running at overload range. _Orionad_'s detectors would be

running at cruising range, which I happen to know is one quarter

meg--two hundred and fifty thousand miles, to you."

"I see. _Loki_ is on the far side of us from the _Orionad_, and their

distance is such that their cruising range on the detector is less than

the distance to _Loki_?"

"Right. And give us another ten minutes, and _Orionad_ will go beyond

detection range from us. Cruising range, that is."

"Mark yourself up a credit for this one, too," smiled Kane. "If you

were an enemy, you could surely score one on the super ship itself."

"Sure could," agreed Guy enthusiastically.

Stan Norman said: "Technician to Executive: May I enter this encounter

in the log?"

"Go ahead," said Guy. "They'll never believe us, though."

"Wouldn't a definite statement of their course and velocity be

evidence?"

"Nope. I happen to know it. It was part of the maneuver secret that I

was kidnaped for, remember."

"They'd just accuse you of telling tall tales that couldn't be

substantiated," agreed Kane. "The crew and myself would be considered

biased witnesses. I'd sure like to cinch the argument, though."

"So would I," said Guy thoughtfully.

"Do you trust this dingbat of yours? The barrier, I mean."

"Naturally."

"Then couldn't we really do something about it?"

"I don't know what--unless we splashed them with a bucket of paint.

We have a gallon of bright red, wire-impregnating varnish. Executive

to Pilot, Astrogator, Technician, and Observer: Get the course of the

_Orionad_ to the last millimeter. Both the intrinsic course and the

course with respect to the _Asterite_. Then plot a free flight across

their path to intercept within a thousand feet at thirty degrees angle.

You know the standard attack problem as we have designed it; this is

an applied problem, fellows. We're going to label the _Orionad_! And

when they land, they're going to bear the _Asterite_'s trademark, and

they'll not know it until we make Terra. Like?"

"We're on it now," said Stan.

"And working in nine decimals," added Astrogator Cummins.

* * * * *

Technician Norman stretched his back, and started to gather his tools.

"So far," he told Maynard, "every instrument we need has been checked

and corrected to the last micron. Turretman Hastings and Machinist

Trenton have converted one of the mounts to a spring-loaded gadget to

propel a gallon-sized cannister of plastic material. Adkins has just

cemented such a cylinder together and filled it with the wire gluck.

I hope we hit the main personnel lock; it'll stay glucky until they

land, and that wire-impregnating googoo ranks high among the things I

wouldn't care to bathe in."

"It ranks top with me," said Maynard.

"To me, it is outranked only by chewing gum and rubber cement. But

anyway, we're ready, all of us."

"That correct?" asked Maynard of the crew.

A series of "Check" shouts came in ragged confusion.

"O.K. Start going!"

With the instruments under personal supervision, the _Asterite_

accelerated in a wide circle, and then corrected the side-vector

component of her course.

Then for an hour solid, the _Asterite_ accelerated on a die-true

course. The components of the intersection were complex because the

_Orionad_ was in deceleration all the time, while the _Asterite_ was

in acceleration, and would be picking up speed until the barrier

established; then the little destroyer would coast free, crossing the

_Orionad_'s course at the precise instant that the super ship came to

the course of the free-flying _Asterite_.

The last driving moments of the _Asterite_'s maneuver passed. The

barrier went on, and the tiny ship went free. Time passed, and

eventually the _Orionad_, long beyond detector range, came into the

scope of the _Asterite_'s souped-up finder.

Furious and extensive checking on the part of the crew resulted in the

information that everything was going according to plan.

More time passed, and now within sight, the two ships were converging.

They became tense, a single moment of failure would be death for all.

But the barrier held, as they expected it to, and with lightning

velocity, the two ships crossed at thirty degrees angle.

"Fire!" called the technician.

"Stick to your meters," drawled Turretman Hastings. "This is a

job for an eyepiece and fingertip man. A man, may I say, with eyes

in his fingertips. A man, may I add ... Ughh. There she goes,

fellers!... who is capable of doing things based upon the excellency

of his coordination."

"What a line of baloney," snorted Norman. "Did he follow through on

that malarkey?"

"And, may I add," drawled Hastings, "a man who never claims ability

beyond his capability? Who never claims that which he is unable to

produce. The _Orionad_ is now bearing a great, ugly, irregular circle

of bright red, gooey paint."

"Are they aware?"

"Apparently not," said Technician Norman. "Also, the projectile we

tossed at them is nondetectable and nonradiating, and was in the

separation-space too briefly for observation. Another thing, we hit 'em

in a blind spot."

"Blind spot?" asked Kane. "I didn't know she had any."

"She hasn't. What I meant was that we hit 'em in a bald spot. They'll

not see the mess until they land. Pilot, how're we doing?"

"Fine. We're coasting away at a great rate."

"Well, get this barrier down as soon as you get out of range. Wait

until you are out of operating range, but don't worry about extreme

range unless you think they smell a crate full of mice."

"Right-o."

"You know, Kane, that was fun, sort of. But I hate to think of what

they will say back home. I'm liable to get busted right down to a

junior aide again."

"They can't break you for that kind of demonstration," said Kane.

"Yes they can. I'm still at the mercy of my superiors."

Kane smiled. "No, you're not. I forgot to tell you--or you didn't

let me get to the point of my coming. But, Guy Maynard, since the

successful establishment of the Plutonian shield, you are now a sector

commander. That gives you--"

"I'm what?" asked Maynard.

"A sector commander. Here, if you don't believe me," and Kane handed

Guy a tiny box. Guy opened it, and found lapel-insignia; the circling

comet of the sector commander. In Kane's other hand was an envelope

stamped "Official" which contained official notice of his advance in

rank.

"That puts you in the upper bracket," said Kane. "You are now on your

own, Guy. Any demonstrations you may give will be viewed officially,

and this is no longer a prank, but a self-assertion; a very definite

evidence of your ability to accomplish the difficult."

The barrier dropped, and the celestial globe traced the last indication

of the receding _Orionad_ to the surface of the clear, glassite sphere.

Maynard touched his hat in salute to the _Orionad's_ last glimmer and

said: "Hi!"