Die-straight, the _Orionad_ flew. On a course tangent to the orbit of
Pluto, on and on and on beyond the limits of the Solar System, out to
a position almost twice the distance from Pluto to Sol; a distance of
7,180,000,000 miles. And there Maynard looked down upon the globe of
another world.
"There it is," he said to Kane in what he hoped to sound like awe.
"I'd never have believed it," breathed Kane.
"The funny part," said Maynard in a surprised tone, "is that this
planet is about the correct distance for agreement with Bode's Law for
Pluto, which is not met. Wonder why it never occurred to the brass hats
to look in the 'Bode Position' all the way around."
"Neptune sort of screwed Bode's Law up," smiled Kane. "It is the fly in
the ointment. If you set up Bode's Law and check for Neptune, you find
that Pluto occupies that position, while Neptune is in a supposedly
unoccupied position. Neptune is an interloper."
"Wonder why he came," mused Maynard.
"Probably got here and couldn't leave," said Kane. "Well, Guy,
if nothing else, you've re-established the value of Bode's
Law. Proper continuity on either side of a discontinuous
section--Neptune--indicates to me that the Law is correct. It is the
presence of an alien planet that is the troublemaker."
"Is there anything on that planet?"
"I wouldn't know. Has three moons, though. Guy, how could anything live
on this planet ... you're entitled to name it, you know, since you
discovered it."
"I discovered it?"
"You'll get the credit, and not without reason, Guy."
Guy shrugged. "We'll call him Mephisto. I'm going to run in close,
Kane. I'd like some initial information on this planet before we
return." He called into the communicator: "Marshal to Executive: Until
further notice, we shall call this planet 'Mephisto.' Therefore,
circle Mephisto at one thousand miles. Have the technician's crew take
all data possible. Have the astrogator check his constants, and if
possible, get an initial estimate of Mephisto's velocity, orbit, and
ecliptic angle."
"Executive to Marshal: Check."
The answer to Kane's idle question as to the possibility of Mephisto
being inhabited came with a distinctness that left no doubt. Not only
was Mephisto inhabited, but Mephisto harbored intelligent life. And
the intelligent life either resented the arrival of the _Orionad_, or
thought that the _Orionad_ was the vanguard of a special invasion.
At any rate, both were correct. And no matter what the inhabitants of
Mephisto thought, they acted.
The detectors rang in alarm, and automatic circuits closed. The big
turrets of the _Orionad_ whipped around with speed enough to warm
their almost frictionless bearings in the brief arc. They threw their
surge on the ordnance-supply lines, and the meters jumped high. The
big AutoMacMillans emitted their energy silently and invisibly, and
seven great gouts of flame bloomed in the space between Mephisto and
_Orionad_.
They swiveled slightly and fired a second time, and four more blossoms
of flame spread, this time closer to the _Orionad_. Upon the third
attack, the flashes were very close to the super ship.
"Ships--or torpedoes?" asked Kane.
"Torpedoes," said Maynard definitely.
"How can you tell?" asked Kane.
"Ships would have flared less brilliantly and more slowly. It takes a
well-loaded warhead to blast that way. The fierceness and the velocity
of the blast give the answer to that one. Also, those things were
coming up at better than a thousand G, all the way. That's guessing
that they all started at once or nearly so. In order to separate that
much in the distance they covered, and to cover so much distance
between the first, second, and third contacts the acceleration must be
about that high." He snapped the communicator and asked: "Marshal to
Executive: What was the acceleration of the exploded bodies?"
The answer came immediately. "Approximately, 941-G, according to the
recorders on the detector circuits."
"Good-bye, Guy."
"Lots of practice," said Maynard. "Well, we're heading back. I'm not
going to risk the _Orionad_ in a single-handed battle against a whole
planet. Even if I won, they'd bust me flat. We'll head for Terra and
set us up a real punitive expedition. Then we'll return and take
Mephisto for Terra!"
* * * * *
The _Orionad_ based at Sahara Base and Maynard went into the Bureau of
Exploration building. His entry into Malcolm Greggor's office was easy,
and he told the space marshal about his discovery. Greggor's reaction
was first doubt, but Maynard called Kane and his executive officer, and
when Greggor was convinced, his excitement knew no bounds.
He called an immediate conference with the head of several bureaus, and
told Maynard he was to remain, and then added Kane to the list. Once
assembled, Maynard explained the details, complete, and Malcolm Greggor
opened the discussion by stating: "This will be difficult. They resent
us. If we go in at all, we must go in armed to the teeth, and expect
trouble all the way."
Mantley, of the Bureau of Ordnance, said: "You expect anything unique
in ordnance, Maynard?"
"I hardly think so. On the other hand, they have space travel, as
witness those torpedoes. They must have a definite isolation policy,
otherwise they would have contacted us long ago."
"Not necessarily," objected the head of the Bureau of Exploration.
"They may be alien--they must be utterly alien to inhabit a planet that
far from Sol. What form they take, or what their chemistry might be, I
have no idea. Furthermore, I don't care, and if I ask about it, it'll
be academically only. They exist, they have science. They do not like
us. Perhaps they know of us, and realize that any traffic with us of
the inner worlds is impossible."
"Their attitude in firing upon the _Orionad_ gives us no alternative,"
said Mantley. He turned to Garlinger, and asked: "We haven't heard
from the Bureau of Maneuvers, yet. Have any ideas?"
"It'll be out and out war," said Garlinger. "I'm certain that we made
no warlike move in merely visiting them. They've been in preferred
isolation, and now that we've discovered them, they fire on us, without
provocation. My guess is that we'd not only be better off going in
armed, but we'd best prepare for countermeasures, counterattack, and
all the trimmings. Now that they've been smoked out, I'll bet they
won't sit there on their icy planet and wait for us to come a-blasting."
"How and why have they developed space travel," asked Greggor, "if they
care nothing for interplanetary commerce?"
"Their moons," suggested Kane. "There were signs of inhabitation on all
three of them."
"This is going to be more difficult than I thought. The problem of
breaching a planet alone is one that has seldom been tried. But if
Mephisto has three armed moons, that's another item to consider. Well,
fellows, it has never been Terra's way to go in with less than all we
have. If we have ten million men that never see Mephisto from anything
but the viewports of the transports, we'll be better off than if we
were blasted to every last man for not having enough of them. It'll be
a full-scale attack, gentlemen."
"More than that, Garlinger, we'll get lots of practise."
"Meaning?"
"Some day we're going to be forced into fighting Mars on an all-out
basis. This will be excellent experience. I believe that Mars will be
the harder to fight, gentlemen. After all, knowing your enemy makes
the battle easier--and they know us very well. So if we correct our
mistakes on Mephisto, and take the resulting plan to Mars, we may break
this deadlock between Mars and Terra forever."
"No one here doubts that it will be an all-out attack," said Mantley.
"We'll have to mobilize--and that's your job, Donigan."
"Yup," drawled Donigan. "After you boys get all done making your plans,
you hand it to me. Uh-huh--and after I get 'em, it's war with a capital
W. Gentlemen, is it your wish that the Bureau of Warfare take over from
here on in?"
"It is."
"My aides will present to you the requirements of the Bureau of Warfare
as soon as they can be pulled from the files. You will break the news,"
he said to Kane, "immediately, and in headline form only. Mere mention,
in this case, of the new planet, and Guy Maynard, the discoverer.
Meanwhile I'll have the Bureau of Propaganda prepare a news-campaign
for you, which you will follow within reason."
"With nothing to print but the mere discovery of Mephisto," smiled
Kane, "I'll be forced to play up Patrol Marshal Maynard. That all
right?"
"Oh certainly. After all, he's fairly well-known and it will seem only
right that a well-known figure gets the limelight. I see your problem;
you can't break a lonely headline."
"I must at least fill up one column, and even with eighteen point type
it takes words. We'll prepare the way, though."
"I want Maynard," said Donigan suddenly.
"The Bureau of Warfare runs this show," nodded Mantley. "May I ask what
for?"
"He'll command one phase of the attack. And it will look well that
the discoverer leads the battle. It implies that we have implicit
confidence in him, in spite of his youth."
"Will he require an increase in rank?"
"Not at the present time. That will come as necessary. But let's close
this. Time is important; Mephisto will be mobilizing even as we are."
"May I use the official wire?" asked Kane. "And one more item. What
about secrecy?"
"A thing this big can not be kept a secret," answered Donigan. "We
haven't enough men and materiel to successfully attack a militant
planet. Therefore we must recruit men, and get the manufacturers to
produce supplies. Mars--I believe--will sit tight and wait until we
take the initiative. A move on their part will hinge upon our success
or failure on Mephisto. Break it wide and big, Kane. And send it out on
the interplanetary service. Mars may as well have something to think
of. We know she will never attack Terra as long as the Terran Space
Patrol maintains a fleet. Mars is too small and, therefore, too easy
to cover compared to Terra. Go ahead and break your story, Kane."
* * * * *
Kane was as good as his word. It hit the newsstands that evening,
in three-inch headlines. They said nothing more than the hourly
news-broadcasts for news, but Kane's writers had done an excellent job
in building Maynard up as the man of the hour.
And then the report of the attack followed. Guy Maynard, commanding the
_Orionad_, had been fired upon without provocation as he attempted to
run in close to the new planet for photographic records. The bursting
of the torpedoes was pictured in the newscasts in all their blasting
flame, and the pictures suffered nothing from the film record.
Guy Maynard was then called upon to face the iconoscopes. He looked
into the faces of three hundred billion Terrans and told them simply
and forcefully that Mephisto's military action prevented any peaceful
negotiations, and that it was certain that they were even now preparing
to maintain their isolation.
"And," he finished, "we know that isolation can not be defended. To
preserve isolation, the enemy must be destroyed on his home base. We
can expect attack from Mephisto unless we tackle them first. And to
take the battle from Terra to them, we need men, material, and all the
myriad of things that follow."
The recruiting posters hit the public next, and all of the machinery of
war was started. And though it rolled in the super-slow gear at first,
it would pick up momentum as time went on. All that the Patrol needed
was a backlog to replace losses, and with that assured within the next
few months, the mighty fleet of the Terran Space Patrol assembled at
Sahara Base, formed a complex space lattice, and drove outward towards
Mephisto.
* * * * *
Inexorably, the Terran battle fleet drove onward. Massively ponderous;
immobile in its chosen course, the massed fleet flashed up through
the velocity range to mid-course, made their complex turnover, and
started to decelerate. Hours passed, grew into days, and the days added
one to the other, and the lattice was maintained with precision and
perfection. Hardly a centimeter of vacillation was observed from ship
to ship, and from the _Orionad_ in the center of the space lattice, it
seemed as though the monstrous, assembled fleet were truly set in a
huge glasslike jelly, immobilized.
But it was a wary personnel that manned the huge Terran Space Patrol
task force. They expected something. And the fact that so many hours
and days had gone without interruption did not make them less restive.
Each moment that went without trouble brought more certain the chance
of excitement in the next. It was a beautiful war of nerves, with the
Terrans getting more and more certain of attack as the hours sped on
and the fleet's velocity dropped to far below the lightning-speed of
the maximum at turnover.
The watch was not stirring, save that the crews were on the constant
alert for the clangor of the alarms; and the detectors were operating
at overload range which gave them plenty of time to get into
action--barring something superior in the way of weapons. Far better
than human senses were the detectors, and they could be relied upon.
Surprise was impossible because attack was inevitable. And since the
human element of watching was eliminated by the ever-alert detectors
and the element of counterattack was automatic with the turret-coupled
AutoMacs, it was only a matter of time. As one, the fleet moved through
the vastness of space between the orbit of Pluto and their goal.
Guy Maynard prowled his scanning room impatiently. In the easy-chair
beside the broad desk, Ben Williamson lazed without apparent
excitement. Upon the twentieth cigarette, Ben said softly: "You should
take it easy, Guy."
"Like you?" asked Maynard. "You look calm--but!"
"I know all about it. But remember, even though it's action you crave;
you're the big boss on this expedition and you'll be able to do nothing
but watch."
"Watch--and pray that my plans are effective. Uh-huh. But talking it
down won't lessen the tension."
"Wait 'em out, Guy. They'll come soon enough."
Guy snorted, tossed his cigarette into the wastebasket and tried to
relax. A matter of time, all right. Well, maybe he could wait in
patience. At best he'd have to wait until the Mephistans were ready to
attack.
When it came, it was swift to start and equally swift to end. From one
side there came a fast-moving jet of tiny spacecraft. At unthinkable
velocities, the thin stream poured into the space pattern of the
Terrans.
The clangor of the alarm ceased as contacts were opened. The
communications band roared with cries and questions.
"Who got it?"
"_Scorpiad!_"
"Bad?"
"Not yet."
"Get out the fighter-cover!"
"They're coming--give us time!"
"Time, hell! This is a space fight, not a pink tea!"
* * * * *
The turrets of the _Scorpiad_ danced back and forth in a mad pattern.
At the end of each lightning move they paused. At each pause they
vomited unseen energy that catapulted the temperature of the Mephistan
ship into incandescence.
The sky beside the moving fleet was dotted with winks of light as the
fencing AutoMacs parried the rapier thrusts of the tiny fighters.
More ships poured into the arrowing horde, and the dancing turrets
raced madly to keep up their program. They lost space, and the wall of
coruscating death moved inward.
From long range the _Pleiad_ opened fire, and the dancing motes of
flame moved back as the overloaded detectors found more time to focus
upon the incoming horde.
Maynard mopped his forehead, one half at a time to permit at least one
eye on the celestial globe during the job. "That was close," he snapped.
"It ain't over yet!" said Williamson shortly.
"No ... here comes another line of those devils ... at _Pleiad_!"
"They're not afraid to die!"
"They seem to want it!"
The _Pleiad_ stopped the long-range fire and began to take care of the
horde that was striking at her direct. _Pleiad_ was capable of handling
this new attack easily, but it left the brunt of the heavy attack on
the _Scorpiad_.
Once more the flashing motes moved inward as the detectors found
themselves unable to keep up. And still more of the tiny ships poured
into the stream, and the borderline of death moved into almost-contact
with the constellation ship.
A burst of flame came from the flank of the _Scorpiad_, and the ports
flashed outward, followed by gouts of smoke and incandescence. Four red
spots spread outward on the _Scorpiad's_ hull, and the constellation
ship lost drive. Unable to keep up the deceleration of the rest of the
Terran fleet, _Scorpiad_ fell out of position and dropped below the
fleet--farther and farther ahead.
A blinding flash of flame came and died.
"Gone!" moaned Maynard.
"But what a cost!" said Ben.
"No cost is worth it!" said Maynard. Then he calmed and added:
"Accursed business. But we may be ahead in the exchange."
"It's brutal," agreed Ben. "Let's keep 'em from getting another."
"Might be robots."
"Nope. If so, the technicians would have scrambled 'em. What's making
now?"
"The fighter-cover! It's arrived!"
The incoming jet of Mephistan fighters wavered like a gas flame in a
high wind, and scintillations scarred the perfection of the needling
ships. The long-range fire of the constellation ships picked off
the aimlessly moving ships and as the flaming specks reached an
almost-solid appearance, the jet of tiny fighters ceased abruptly.
"Stopped 'em!"