Escape
As Borisu's hand depressed the fateful button, a sort of sick
paralysis seemed to fall upon almost everyone in the control turret.
It was as though all realized that a moment hence in one brief,
blinding flame would vanish all for which a lifetime of struggle had
been spent. Joy and sorrow, happiness and care ... hope, love,
ambition ... all these were to merge as one in the final erasing of
life's futile slate.
Even Borisu, high-minded a patriot as he proclaimed himself to be,
stood stricken by the irrevocable enormity of what he had done. Mad
laughter froze on his lips, panic glazed his eyes, and the hand which
held the threatening Haemholtz faltered and dropped to his side.
And in that moment Warren roared, "_Now_, Gary! _Get him!_"
Gary dove across the room, his shoulders crashing the little man to the
floor as his hands wrenched and tore the ray pistol from Borisu's grasp.
And the sudden death they had been led to expect?
Nothing happened.
No blinding flame engulfed them. No cascade of heat crushed the
_Liberty_ to a blob of molten metal. The gallant ship rode mightily,
smoothly, evenly, the hum of its hypatomics a reassuring sound in their
ears.
And now the tables were turned, for Muldoon and O'Day had leaped to
Lane's assistance. Already Flick had snatched the skittering pistol
from the floor, while Lark's strong arms encircled the raging Magogean,
locking him in a vise. Meanwhile Warren, lurching to his feet, had
charged to the controls, glanced swiftly at the vision plate, made a
few swift corrections in their course. Now he turned, grinning.
"Made it," he cried relievedly. "I figured we might. Just in time,
though. There's Sirius off the port bow. Too close for comfort."
"B-but," faltered Nora. "What did you do, Hugh? I thought we were
headed for certain death? Even the Jovians warned us that if the
controls were tampered with--"
"That's right," admitted Warren cheerfully. "But the Jovians were
thinking only of their _own_ drive. They didn't take all the factors
into consideration. _This_ slimy rascal--" He jerked his head toward
the impotently fuming Quisling locked in O'Day's arms--"reset the
quadridimensional stops to plunge us into the heart of Sirius. And it
would have worked, too, had that been our only means of propulsion.
"But it occurred to me that if we could get the hypos working, adding
the _Liberty's_ normal acceleration to the space-twisting speed of the
Jovian drive, we might put enough distance between ourselves and Sirius
to save our necks.
"And--" He shrugged--"it worked. That's all."
"Hugh," said Gary, "you're terrific."
"Me? No, just plain lucky. I was only playing a hunch. But I figured we
had everything to gain and nothing to lose."
"He's a violet," snorted O'Day. "A modest, shrinking violet. Stop
playing coy, skipper. That was one of the neatest bits of mental
astrogation I've ever seen."
Warren said uncomfortably, "Comets to you, sailor. You could have done
the same thing yourself."
"Sure. If I'd thought of it."
"Anyone who can handle a spaceship like you can--"
"In," acknowledged Lark O'Day, "my own back yard; our own little
solar system. But when it comes to figuring intergalactic calculus
with a quadridimensional drive as a factor--" He shook his head
admiringly--"you're the boy for my money."
* * * * *
Muldoon's fingers were itching on the butt of the Haemholtz. He glanced
at the silent Borisu, then longingly at his weapon.
"When the Mutual Admiration Society adjourns," he said, "what are we
going to do with our lethal little pal? You want I should take him out
somewhere and play punchboard on him with this?"
Gary Lane said grimly, "Murder in cold blood isn't ordinarily my dish,
but it seems to me that in _this_ case it isn't so much a case of
murder as it is fitting retribution. I'm in favor of--"
But Dr. Bryant said, "No, Gary. We can't do that."
"Why not? He's got it coming to him."
"I agree with you perfectly. But now that we have reached Sirius we may
have need of him."
"Need of _him_?" exploded Muldoon.
"Yes. For one thing we already know the Magogean language is unlike
any used in our universe. We will have need of an interpreter. Another
thing you must remember is that so long as we hold him unharmed aboard
the _Liberty_ we hold as hostage one whom we know to be a person of
importance among his own people."
Lark O'Day said bluntly, "I'm agin it. I was raised in a hard school, I
know. But one thing I learned long ago was that the best way to get rid
of an enemy is--get rid of him!"
And Dr. Kang, too, added quietly, "It is not wise to spare an enemy
like this; one who has already attempted not once but many times to
destroy us. It is written, 'Who dallies with the wasp will feel its
sting.'"
Neither Muldoon nor Gary appeared to think highly of Dr. Bryant's
clemency. But surprisingly it was the skipper who came to Dr. Bryant's
support.
Warren said soberly, "What you say about Anjers'--Borisu's--treachery
is quite true. Nevertheless, _we_ have no right to pass judgment upon
him. The thing to do is hold him in protective custody, take him back
to Earth with us when we go, and there let him stand judgment before a
properly constituted court. Law and order must be upheld."
O'Day laughed curtly. "There speaks the Space Patrolman. Once a cop,
always a cop, eh, Warren?"
Warren flushed. "Maybe so. But that's the way I feel about it."
And the one-time pirate shrugged. "Okay, skipper. It's your ship. Save
him it is. But--" He glared distastefully at the Magogean--"it's a good
thing for you, buster, that we're aboard the _Liberty_ and not the
_Black Star_...."
* * * * *
So Borisu was taken away and placed under lock and key in the
_Liberty's_ brig. And later the leaders of the expedition gathered once
more in the control turret of the _Liberty_ as Hugh Warren, with his
instruments, struggled to set a true and proper course for the ship.
"It's baffling," he confessed ruefully after futile consultation with
his azimuth chart and astrogation table. "I can't seem to orient myself
at all. There are no constant bodies to set a course by. Or, rather,
there are plenty of known bodies--but they don't _look_ right. Nothing
looks right!"
"What do you mean?"
"Why, just that. Everything's cockeyed. Out of proportion. Here, see
for yourself--"
Warren touched the stud which activated the vision plate. On the
fore-lens screen was enmirrored that segment of space which lay before
the _Liberty_.
As one, the company's eyes opened wide at the curious picture which
lay exposed to their views. Star-strewn heavens sprawled before them,
yes; but no such spangled jet as might be seen from Earth or any of
Earth's sister planets. There, stars were dim, small specks, faintly
aglitter in unfathomable distance. Stars had diversity of size ...
this one was great, that other small. Stars clustered in recognizable
patterns. Here a portion of the sky was filled with their tinsel
sprinkling; elsewhere might be a patch of sparse-strewn midnight black.
Thus the heavens as seen from Earth.
But not so was space as seen from _this_ vantage point. For, viewing
their surroundings through the vision plate, it seemed as if they
swam through a sea of radiant light where every star was a beacon,
each planet a steadfast buoy of glowing color. And in this gleaming
pattern was a regularity, an orthodoxy as painstaking as if some master
craftsman had allocated each glowing sphere with precise care.
Regularly discernible against the omnipresent back-drop of space
were the solar galaxies, each a complete entity, aloof, removed from
its fellows and confined to its own definite segment of space. Some
galaxies were younger than others. One formed a whirlpool nebula.
Another, giving birth to worlds, was a gleaming, egg-shaped blob of
gold. Still elder universes had achieved secure and permanent balance.
But in certain things they were all alike. Each dominated its own
sector of space without encroachment on a neighbor. And each parent
star was very nearly equal in size to every other.
It was, in short, the mathematician's dream: the perfect achievement of
theoretical stellar mechanics. A universe balanced in absolute stasis,
with each galaxy arranged in contrapuntal adjacence to each other.
"But this--" said Flick Muldoon wildly--"_this_ can't be the Sirian
system! This isn't any part of the universe we knew!"
Young Dr. Lane nodded soberly. "Yes, Flick, it is. This, at last, is
the _true_ universe. The real and constant universe we theorized might
exist when first we took those photographs on Luna. We are looking, as
no man has looked for countless years, upon the true 'bubble universe'
of which our solar system was once a part."
"But--" asked Nora--"our solar system _now_?"
Warren had been twisting the vision lens. Now he halted its periscopic
movement at a space sector behind the _Liberty_. "I think," he said
dubiously, "_that_ may be the universe from which we came. Gary--?"
* * * * *
Gary looked and nodded. Sharp against the dazzling brilliance of the
true universe was a strange blot, a circular well, a cone-shaped funnel
of blackness carven through the bright surroundings. And deep and far,
where the end of this funnel faded into unfathomable distances, was a
single, tiny, pin-prick of light glimmering faintly.
"Yes," he said, "that is--must be--it. That tiny star is Sol. The one
diminishing unit in all the constant universe. And that funnel is the
path of the cosmic rays, the cone through which Magog's ultrawave
cannon is beaming its lethal radiation upon our little system."
"Gad!" gritted Lark O'Day. "What a vengeance! What a punishment to mete
on an innocent people! We must stop those scoundrels, Gary! If we only
knew where to find them--"
"We do," Gary pointed out. "As Earth is the _far_ end of the funnel,
the planet from which the rays _emanate_ must be Magog."
"Right as rain," declared Hugh Warren. "And, Gary, I've got it spotted
now. It's that second planet over there, the blue one. Hello, below
there! Bud!" he shouted into the audio. "Accelerate the hypos to max.
And tell the men to stand by for any emergency. We're approaching our
destination."
"A.X. to max it is, sir!" came back the reply.
And the whining sound of the hypatomic motors heightened as the
_Liberty_, its goal in sight, leaped through unworldly space like a
bow-sped silver arrow.
* * * * *
It was as they neared Magog that Gary Lane experienced a final qualm of
misgiving. Dim memory stirred him. He recalled a remark the man they
had known as Dr. Anjers had made on Jupiter.
"It is ridiculous to think of us, tiny mites that we are, daring to
attack the people of a universe so infinitely greater than ours that we
will be as dust motes beneath their crushing heels," Borisu had said.
At that time he had still been pretending allegiance with his
companions. Which did not alter the fact that there might be truth
to his claim. The Earthmen, born of a contracted planet, might be a
hundred, a thousand times smaller than the enemy whose homeland they
were approaching. Appraising the size of Magog from this distance, Gary
could not tell. Size is relative, and in this Great Outer Universe
there was no commensurable object by which the spacefarers might judge
their own stature.
But Dr. Kang disabused him of this thought the moment Gary ventured it.
"No, no my friend. You need entertain no fears on that account. Just
as the Magogean, Borisu was similar in size to us on Earth, so on Magog
will our height correspond to that of the natives."
"But if we come from a planet which has been dwindling for untold
years--"
"That does not matter, my boy. You forget, we are now in the real
or 'static' universe. Moreover we came here through a space warp,
traveling with a speed which exceeds that of light. Elementary
astrophysics will tell you that any object exceeding the speed of light
attains infinite mass. Therefore we may safely assume that during
our period of translation from the inner to the outer universe the
_Liberty_ and all of us aboard the ship expanded to a size comparable
to this universe which now surrounds us."
"Expanded?" grunted Lark O'Day. "But I don't feel any different."
"Naturally not. For you are as perfectly attuned to this greater
universe as you were formerly to our own contracted solar system."
"But," demurred Gary, "Anjers--I mean Borisu--himself said--"
Dr. Kang smiled quietly. "Borisu made _several_ paradoxical remarks. He
also showed an appalling lack of comprehension of the hypatomic drive.
Moreover, on several occasions he failed rather pitifully to accomplish
a mission he had every opportunity of achieving.
"All of which leads me to believe, my friend, that--his boasting to
the contrary--he's not so brilliant a genius as he believes himself.
Nor is his race so scientifically advanced as he considers it. In at
least several respects we have already discovered their knowledge to
be inferior to ours. Let us hope we can maintain our superiority, and
bring about the end we desire."
"By golly, that's right!" muttered Muldoon. "Borisu never struck _me_
as being any master mind. And he _admitted_ his race didn't know the
secret of spaceflight."
"Excuse me," interrupted Dr. Kang. "At one time they did not. But they
must know that secret now."
"Why?"
"How else could Dr. Boris Anjers have reached Earth to serve as an
espionage agent for his people? We are forced to assume this Magogean
surveillance of the solar system is a regular thing, with new
appointees assuming their duties periodically. Borisu intimated he was
but one of many. Obviously, therefore, the Magogeans have mastered not
only spaceflight but faster-than-light travel. As well as the ability
to diminish their own bodily size at will. At any rate, we shall know
in a little while."
* * * * *
Warren's voice interrupted him. The skipper was seated at the controls.
"You've got part of your answer now, Doc."
"What do you mean, Captain?"
"About spaceflight. The Magogeans _have_ got ships. Because here comes
a flock of them right now."
O'Day's eyes lighted. Restless for action, he had been chafing
impatiently ever since they sighted Magog. Now his moment had come. He
sprang to his feet.
"Man the guns! We'll teach those scoundrels--"
"Wait," advised Dr. Kang. "Not so swiftly. Let us try every peaceful
means to win them over first. Dr. Bryant--where is Dr. Bryant?"
"Below," said Muldoon. "He went below a little while ago. I don't think
the old man feels so good. He looked sort of funny. Kind of a sick
expression around his mouth. And his eyes were glazed, like he was
sort of dopey, or something."
"Well, let us send for him. We will need his advice. And bring Borisu
from his cell, too. We must attempt to communicate with the Magogeans
by radio. We will need Borisu to interpret for us."
Lieutenant MacDonald said, "Yes sir. Right away, sir," and hurried from
the room.
Warren, closely scanning the vision plate, muttered, "Six ...
eight ... a dozen of them. If they're friendly, all right. But if
they're hostile--"
"You have turned on the force-shield?" asked Dr. Kang.
"No, but I'll do it now." The skipper pushed the black button. "_That_
should take care of any tricks they try to pull. Say--" His voice broke
in a sudden exclamation of astonishment. "Say, _that's_ funny! Where
did _that_ come from?"
"That? What?" demanded Gary.
"Why--why, it looked like a life skiff. Matter of fact it looked like
one of the _Liberty's_ auxiliary craft. It just scooted across the
vision plate for a minute and then--I'll try to pick it up again."
Warren twisted the scanning device deftly, succeeded in centering it
upon the foremost of the approaching Magogean spacecraft. He leaned
forward, studying intently the scene revealed.
"By God, it _is_ a life skiff! But what's it doing this far out in
space? And where did it come from?"
He got his answer, but from an unexpected source. For suddenly the
audio crackled into activity. The voice of Lieutenant MacDonald came to
them from midships.
"Captain! Captain Warren!"
"Yes? Yes, what is it?"
"It--it's Professor Bryant, sir."
"Bryant? What about him?"
"He's lying in the brig ... unconscious!"
"You mean--you mean Borisu attacked him? Seize the traitor! Bring him
here immediately."
MacDonald's voice was anguished. "I can't, sir. That's what I'm trying
to tell you. The cell door is open ... one of our auxiliary craft has
been stolen from its cradle ... and Borisu--_has escaped_!"