Bob nodded grimly. He backed the hauler up about thirty miles, then
sent it forward again, directly toward the Saylor brothers' ship at ten
miles per second. And resting on the blunt nose of the ship was the
"yo-yo."
There was little doubt the Saylors' saw their approach. But,
scornfully, they made no attempt to evade. There was no possible harm
the oncoming ship could wreak. Or at least that was what they thought,
for Bob brought the hauler's speed down to zero--and Starre Lowenthal's
little ship, possessing its own inertia, kept on moving!
It spun away from the hauler's blunt nose, paying out two rigid
lengths of cable behind it as it unwound, hurled itself forward like a
fantastic spinning cannon ball.
"It's going to hit!"
The excited cry came from Starre. But Bob swore. The dumbbell ship
reached the end of its cables, falling a bare twenty feet short of
completing its mission. It didn't stop spinning, but came winding back
up the cable, at the same terrific speed with which it had left.
* * * * *
Bob sweated, having only fractions of seconds in which to maneuver
for the "yo-yo" could strike a fatal blow at the hauler too. It was
ticklish work completely to nullify the "yo-yo's" speed. Bob used
exactly the same method of catching the "yo-yo" on the blunt nose of
the ship as a baseball player uses to catch a hard-driven ball in
his glove--namely, by matching the ball's speed and direction almost
exactly at the moment of impact. And now Bob's hours of practice paid
dividends, for the "yo-yo" came to rest snugly, ready to be released
again.
All this had happened in such a short space of time that the Saylor
brothers must have had only a bare realization of what was going on.
But by the time the "yo-yo" was flung at them again, this time with
better calculations, they managed to put the firmly held asteroid
between them and the deadly missile. But it was clumsy evasion, for
the asteroid was several times as massive as the ship which was towing
it, and its inertia was great. And as soon as the little ship came
spinning back to rest, Bob flung the hauler to a new vantage point and
again the "yo-yo" snapped out.
And this time--collision! Bob yelled as he saw the stern section of the
Saylor brothers' ship crumple like tissue paper crushed between the
hand. The dumbbell-shaped ship, smaller, and therefore stauncher due to
the principle of the arch, wound up again, wobbling a little. It had
received a mere dent in its starboard half.
Starre was chortling with glee. Queazy whispered, "Attaboy, Bob! This
time we'll knock 'em out of the sky!"
The "yo-yo" came to rest and at the same moment a gong rang excitedly.
Bob knew what that meant. The Saylor brothers were trying to establish
communication.
Queazy was across the room in two running strides. He threw in the
telaudio and almost immediately, Wally Saylor's big body built up in
the plate. Wally Saylor's face was quivering with wrath.
"What do you damned fools think you're trying to do?" he roared.
"You've crushed in our stern section. You've sliced away half of our
stern jets. Air is rushing out! You'll kill us!"
"Now," Bob drawled, "you're getting the idea."
"I'll inform the Interplanetary Commission!" screamed Saylor.
"_If_ you're alive," Bob snarled wrathfully. "And you won't be unless
you release the asteroid."
"I'll see you in Hades first!"
"Hades," remarked Bob coldly, "here you come!"
He snapped the hauler into its mile-a-second speed again, stopped it at
zero. And the "yo-yo" went on its lone, destructive sortie.
For a fraction of a second Wally Saylor exhibited the countenance of a
doomed man. In the telaudio plate, he whirled, and diminished in size
with a strangled yell.
The "yo-yo" struck again, but Bob Parker maneuvered its speed in
such a manner that it struck in the same place as before, but not as
heavily, then rebounded and came spinning back with perfect, sparkling
precision. And even before it snugged itself into its berth, it was
apparent that the Saylor brothers had given up. Like a wounded terrier,
their ship shook itself free of the asteroid, hung in black space for
a second, then vanished with a flaming puff of released gravitons from
its still-intact jets.
The battle was won!
* * * * *
As soon as the hauler had grappled itself onto the prized asteroid, Bob
Parker jumped to his feet with a grin on his face as wide as the void.
Queazy grabbed his arm and pounded his shoulder. Bob shook him off,
losing his elation.
"Cut it," he snapped. "It's too early for the glad-hand business. We've
solved one problem, but we've run into another, as we knew we would."
He crossed determinedly to Starre, tipped up her downcast face.
"Starre," he said, "I guess you know I love you. If I asked you to
marry me--"
She quivered. "_Are_ you asking me, Bob?" she breathed.
"No! Couldn't ask you to marry me unless I had money. Starre, if it was
up to me I'd drop the asteroid on the Moon, and you wouldn't have to
take a chance on marrying a man you don't love. But I'm in partnership
with Queazy and Queazy has his due--"
Queazy intervened, his grey eyes troubled. "No," he said quietly. "Hold
on. I'll willingly forego any interest in the asteroid, Bob."
Bob laughed. "Nuts to you, Queazy! Don't get gallant. We'll be so deep
in debt we'll never be independent again the rest of our lives if we
don't land the asteroid. Thanks, anyway."
He took a deep breath. "Starre, you'll have to trust me. Today's the
last of May. We've got two more days before we have to fill the order.
In those two days, I think I can evolve a procedure to put all of us
in the clear--with the exception of your fiancé and your grandfather.
Which, I think, is as it should be, because these days people pick out
their own husbands and wives. In other words, a few minutes before your
wedding, the asteroid will be delivered--on schedule!"
"I'll trust you, Bob," Starre said huskily, after a moment of quiet.
"But whatever you've got in mind, to put one over on my grandfather,
it better be good...."
* * * * *
For a day and a half, ship and attached asteroid pursued a slow,
unpowered orbit around Earth. For a day and a half, Bob Parker hardly
slept. He gave Queazy charge of the ship entirely, had him send an
ethergram to Andrew S. Burnside announcing that his asteroid would show
up in time for the wedding, and that the bride would be there too.
Most of Bob's time was spent on the surface of the asteroid. He
took spectroscopic readings from every possible angle, made endless
notations on a pad. Sometimes, he worked in his cabin, and Queazy,
ambling puzzledly into Bob's presence, could make nothing of the
countless pages of calculation strewn about the room--figures which
dealt with melting points, refractive indices, atmospheric velocities.
And finally, when Bob tore the ship and prisoned asteroid from their
orbit, sent them into Earth's atmosphere, Queazy could make nothing of
that either.
For Bob Parker apparently had a rigid schedule to follow in reference
to the hour set for Starre's wedding. He hit the atmosphere at a
certain second, at a certain speed. He followed a definite route
through the atmosphere, slowly moving downward as he crossed the great
Asiatic continents. He passed as slowly over the Atlantic, passed above
New York City scarcely a dozen miles, and hovered over Philadelphia at
last, a mile up.
Then he called Starre into the control room. She looked distracted,
pale. She was wearing slacks and was as completely unprepared for
her marriage as she could manage. Bob grinned, took her cold hand
affectionately.
"We're over Philadelphia, Starre. You can point out the general section
of the city of your granddad's home and estate for me. We'll be landing
at 11:15 A.M. That's in about a half-hour. Whatever you do,
make certain you aren't--ah--married before 12 o'clock. Okay?"
She extracted her hand from his, nodding dumbly. She sat down at the
photo-amplifiers, and for the next fifteen minutes studied the streets
below and guided him south. Then Bob dropped the ship until it was
only a few hundred feet from the ground. Around them pleasure craft
circled, and on the streets and fields below people ran excitedly,
pointing upward at the largest asteroid ever to be brought to the
planet.
The ship labored over the fields with its tremendous burden, finally
hovered over a clearing bordered by leafy oak and sycamore trees, part
of Burnside's tremendous "back yard." There was a man with a red flag
down there. Bob followed his directions, slowly brought the asteroid,
rough side down, onto the carefully tended lawn. Then he lifted the
hauler, placed it firmly on the opposite side of the clearing. Bob
relaxed, wiped his sweating face, and felt a cool breeze as Queazy
opened the airlock.
Minutes later, Starre Lowenthal was the center of an excited, mystified
group of wedding guests. Among them was her grandfather, a wrinkled,
well-preserved old gentleman who alternately kissed her and flew
into rages. Another man, handsome, blond, came rushing up, sweeping
everybody out of his way. He took Starre in his arms, fervently. Bob
Parker hated him at sight.
* * * * *
Burnside cornered Starre and some sort of an argument ensued. Starre
was insisting that she dress for the wedding, and finally her
grandfather gave in. Starre flung a final, pleading look at Bob,
and then disappeared toward the great white house with the Georgian
pillars. Most of the guests trailed after her, and Burnside came
stomping up to Bob. He thrust a slip of green paper into his hands.
"There's your check, young man!" he puffed. "Now you can get your
greasy ship out of here. What do you mean by waiting until the last
minute to bring the asteroid?"
Bob didn't answer. He said politely, "I'd like very much to stay for
the wedding, sir."
The old man looked distastefully at his dirty coveralls. "You may," he
said testily. "But please view it from a distance."
He started away, then suddenly turned back. "Would you mind telling me,
young man, how it is that my granddaughter was in your ship?"
"I'll be glad to, sir," Bob said politely, "after the wedding. It's a
long story."
"I've no doubt, I've no doubt," Burnside said, glaring. "But if it's
anything scandalous, I don't want to hear it. This is an important
wedding." He stomped away, limping.
Bob whirled toward Queazy, tensely, thrust the check into his hands. He
jerked it back, hastily endorsed it and thrust it at Queazy again.
"Cash it! Quick! I'll meet you in the Somers Hotel."
Queazy asked no questions, but lifted the ship, and left.
At twenty minutes of twelve, somebody having rushed Starre into a
hurried preparation for the wedding, the minister climbed a ladder
to the apex of the asteroid, and the wedding march sounded out. Bob
saw Starre, walking slowly on her grandfather's arm, her eyes looking
straight ahead.
"Now!" Bob prayed. "_Now!_"
He groaned inwardly. It wasn't going to happen! He'd been a fool to
think--
Then a yell, completely uninhibited, escaped his lips. The asteroid
was quivering, precisely like gelatine dessert. Pieces of iron ore,
tungsten, quartz and cinnabar began to fall from its sides. Little
rivulets of a silvery-white liquid gushed outward in streams.
The wedding guests leapt to their feet with startled cries, starting
running back toward higher ground. The wedding march ended in a
clatter of discords. And Bob reached the asteroid as it went to pieces
completely. He found himself ankle-deep in rivulets of liquid metal.
He was swept off his feet, came up hanging onto a jagged boulder of
floating iron ore. He looked around on a mad scene. Screams, yells,
tangled legs.
"_Bob!_"
Starre's voice. Bob plunged toward her, yelling above the general
tumult. For a radius of several hundred feet, there was a sluggishly
moving liquid. People were floating on it, or standing in it
ankle-deep, dumbfounded. Bob reached Starre, swept her up in his
arms, went slushing off to the edge of the pool. Starre was laughing
uncontrollably.
"There's a helicopter on the other side of the house," she cried. "We
can get away before they get organized."
* * * * *
They found Queazy in a room at the Somers Hotel. He opened the door,
and the worry on his face dissipated as he saw them. Behind him on
a table were stacks of five-thousand-dollar bills. Before he could
say anything, Starre demanded of him, "I couldn't get married on an
asteroid if the asteroid wasn't there any more, could I, Queazy? One
minute the asteroid was there and the next minute I was wading in a
metal lake."
"Quicksilver," Bob Parker agreed happily. "The asteroid was almost
entirely frozen mercury, except for an outer solid layer of iron ore,
tungsten, quartz, cinnabar."
"I just took exterior readings," Starre explained, sheepishly.
"So I figured," continued Bob, "that if I took a lot of spectroscopic
readings of the interior I could determine exactly how big a mass of
frozen quicksilver there was. And how long it would take to thaw out
once it was inside Earth's atmosphere!
"That's the reason I had things scheduled to the dot, Queazy. I coaxed
the asteroid along until the mercury was almost thawed out. When the
wedding started, it melted all at once, being the same temperature all
the way through. Satisfied?"
Queazy looked grave. As gravely, he moved back to the table, gestured
to the money. "I hate to spoil your fun, Bob," he said slowly. "We'll
have to give this back to Burnside. He didn't ask for quicksilver, you
know."
"Didn't he?" Bob grinned smugly. "But he asked for cinnabar, didn't he?
Wherever you find quicksilver you find cinnabar. Cinnabar is a source
of quicksilver. And vice versa. Cinnabar is a sulphide of quicksilver!
Nope, we earned that money, Queazy, my boy. It's ours legally. Hands
off!"
He put Starre's shoe on her foot after emptying it of some more
quicksilver. She stood up then, moved very close. "You can ask me now,
can't you, Bob?" she whispered. She kissed him. "And if you do, that's
my answer."
Which, of course, made the question totally unnecessary.