"Let's see."
"It's not too good--"
"Same idea?"
Walt went to get his experiment. He returned with a tray full of
laboratory glassware, all wired into a maze of electronic equipment.
Channing went white. "You, too?" he yelled.
"Take it easy, sport. This charges only to a hundred volts. We get
thirteen hundred microfarads at one hundred volts. Then we drain off
the dielectric fluid, and get one billion three hundred million volts
charge in a condenser of only one hundred micro-microfarads. It's an
idea for the nuclear physics boys. I think it may tend to solidify
some of the uncontrollables in the present system of developing high
electron velocities."
"That thirteen million dielectric constant stuff is strictly
electro-dynamite, I think," said Channing. "Farrell may have developed
it as a by-product, but I have a hunch that it will replace some
heretofore valuable equipment. The Franks-Farrell generator will outdo
Van-Der Graf's little job, I think."
"Franks-Farrell?"
"Sure. He thunk up the dielectric. You thunk up the application. He
won't care, and you couldn't have done it without. Follow?"
"Oh sure. I was just trying to figure out a more generic term for it."
"Don't. Let it go as is for now. It's slick, Walt, but there's no
weapon in it."
"You're looking for a weapon?"
"Uh-huh. Ever since Murdoch took a swing at Venus Equilateral, I've
been sort of wishing that we could concoct something big enough and
dangerous enough to keep us free from any other wiseacres. Remember,
we stand out there like a sore thumb. We are as vulnerable as a
half pound of butter at a banquet for starving Armenians. The next
screwball that wants to control the system will have to control Venus
Equilateral first. And the best things we can concoct to date include
projectile-tossing guns at velocities of less than the speed of our
ships, and an electron-shooter that can be overcome by coating the ship
with any of the metal-salts that enhance secondary emission."
"Remind me to requisition a set of full-sized tubes when we return.
Might as well have some fun."
"O.K., you can have 'em. Which brings us back to the present.
Question: Was that an abortive attempt upon our ship, or was that a
mistaken try at melting a meteor?"
"I know how to find out. Let's call Charley Thomas and have him get
on the rails. We can have him request Terran Electric to give us any
information they may have on energy beams to date."
"They'd tell you?" scorned Arden.
"If they write _no!_, and we find out that they did, we'll sue 'em
dead. They're too shaky to try anything deep right now."
"Going to make it an official request, hey?"
"Right. From the Station, it'll go out in print, and their answer will
be on the 'type, too, since business etiquette requires it. They'll
get the implication if they're on the losing end. That'll make 'em try
something slick. If they're honest, they'll tell all."
"That'll do it all right," said Walt. "They're too shaky to buck us any
more. And if they are trying anything, it'll show."
* * * * *
The rest of the trip was without incident. They put in at Canalopsis
and found Keg Johnson with an official 'gram waiting for them. Don
Channing ripped it open and read:
Interplanetary Communications
Attention Dr. Channing:
No project for energy-beam capable of removing meteors under way
at Terran Electric, or at any of the subsidiary companies. Ideas
suggested along these lines have been disproven by your abortive
attempt of a year ago, and will not be considered unless theory is
substantiated in every way by practical evidence.
If you are interested, we will delve into the subject from all
angles. Please advise.
Terran Electric Co.
Board of Legal Operations
Mark Kingman, LLD.
Channing smiled wryly at Keg Johnson and told him of their trouble.
"Oh?" said Keg, with a frown. "Then you haven't heard?"
"Heard what?"
"Hellion Murdoch has been on the loose for weeks."
"Weeks!" yelled Channing.
"Uh-huh. He feigned gangrene, was taken to the base hospital where he
raised hob in his own, inimitable way. He blasted the communications
set-up completely, ruined three spaceships, and made off with the
fourth. The contact ship just touched there recently and found hell
brewing. If they hadn't had a load of supplies and prisoners for the
place, they wouldn't have known about it for months, perhaps."
"So! Brother Murdoch is loose again. Well! The story dovetails in
nicely."
"You think that was Hellion himself?"
"I'd bet money on it. The official report on Hellion Murdoch said that
he was suffering from a very slight persecution complex, and that he
was capable of making something of it if he got the chance. He's
slightly whacky, and dangerously so."
"He's a brilliant man, isn't he?"
"Quite. His name is well known in the circles of neuro-surgery. He is
also known to be an excellent research worker in applied physics."
"Nuts, hey?" asked Walt.
"Yeah, he's nuts. But only in one way, Walt. He's nuts to think that he
is smarter than the entire solar system all put together. Well, what do
we do now?"
"Butter ourselves well and start scratching for the answer. That
betatron trick will not work twice. There must be something."
"O.K., Walt. We'll all help you think. I'm wondering how much
research he had to do to develop that beam. After all, we were five
thousand miles away, and he heated us up. He must've thought we were
a meteor--and another thing, too--he must've thought that his beam
was capable of doing something at five thousand miles distance or he
wouldn't have tried. Ergo he must have beaten that two hundred mile
bugaboo."
"We don't know that the two hundred mile bugaboo is still
bugging in space," said Walt, slowly. "That's set up so that the
ionization-by-products are not dangerous. Also, he's not transmitting
power from station to station, et cetera. He's ramming power into some
sort of beam and to the devil with losses external to his equipment.
The trouble is, darn it, that we'll have to spend a month just building
a large copy of my miniature set-up."
"A month is not too much time," agreed Channing. "And Murdoch will
take a swing at us as soon as he gets ready to reach. We can have
Charley start building the big tubes immediately, can't we?"
"Just one will be needed. We'll use one of the standard solar intake
tubes that we're running the Station from. There's spare equipment
aplenty. But the transmitter-terminal tube will take some building."
"Can we buy one from Terran Electric?"
"Why not? Get the highest rating we can. That should be plenty. Terran
probably has them in stock, and it'll save us building one."
"What is their highest rating?"
"Two hundred megawatts."
"O.K. I'll send 'em a coded requisition with my answer to their
letter."
"What are you going to tell 'em?"
"Tell 'em not to investigate the energy-gun idea unless they want to
for their own reasons," Channing grinned. "They'll probably assume--and
correctly--that we're going to tinker ourselves."
"And?"
"Will do nothing since it is an extra-planetary proposition. Unless it
becomes suitable for digging tunnels, or melting the Martian ice cap,"
laughed Channing.
* * * * *
Mark Kingman took the letter to Murdoch, who was hidden in the depths
of the _Black Widow_. Hellion read it twice, and then growled.
"They smell something, sure," he snarled. "Why didn't we make that a
perfect hit!"
"What are we going to do now?"
"Step up our plans. They'll have this thing in a few weeks. Hm-m-m.
They order a transmitter-terminal tube. Have you got any in stock?"
"Naturally. Not in stock, but available for the Northern Landing
power-line order."
"You have none, then. You will have some available within a few days.
That half-promise will stall them from making their own, and every day
that they wait for your shipment is a day in our favor. To keep your
own nose clean, I'll tell you when to ship the tube. It'll be a few
days before I strike."
"Why bother?" asked Kingman. "They won't be around to call names."
"No, but their friends will, and we want to keep them guessing."
"I see. Those tubes are huge enough to excite comment, and there
will be squibs in all the papers telling of the giant going to Venus
Equilateral, and the Sunday Supplements will all break out in wild
guesses as to the reason why Venus Equilateral wants a two hundred
megawatt tube. Too bad you couldn't keep your escape a longer secret."
"I suppose so. But it was bound to be out sooner or later anyway. A
good general, Kingman, is one whose plans may be changed on a moment's
notice without sacrificing. We'll win through."
The days wore on, and the big turret on the top of the _Black Widow_
took shape. The supertubes were installed, and Murdoch worked
in the bowels of the ship to increase the effectiveness of the
course-integrators to accommodate high velocities and to correct for
the minute discrepancies that would crop up due to the difference in
velocities between light and sub-electronic radiation.
And on Venus Equilateral, the losing end of a war of nerves was taking
place. The correspondence by 'type was growing into a reasonable
pile, while the telephone conversations between Terran Electric and
Venus Equilateral became a daily proposition. The big tubes were
not finished. The big tubes were finished, but rejects because of
electrode-misalignments. The big tubes were in the rework department.
The big tubes were on Luna for their testing. And again they were
rejects because the maximum power requirements were not met. They were
returned to Evanston and were once more in the rework department. You
have no idea how difficult the manufacture of two hundred megawatt
tubes really is.
So the days passed, and no tubes were available. The date passed which
marked the mythical date of 'if'--_If_ Venus Equilateral had started
their own manufacturing division on the day they were first ordered
from Terran Electric, they would have been finished and available.
Then, one day, word was passed along that the big tubes were shipped.
They were on their way, tested and approved, and would be at Venus
Equilateral within two days. In the due course of time, they arrived,
and the gang at the Relay Station went to work on them.
But Walt Franks shook his head. "Don, we'll be caught like a sitting
rabbit."
"I know. But--?" answered Channing.
There was no answer to that question, and so they went to work again.
The news of Murdoch's first blow came that same day. It was a news
report from the Interplanetary Network that the Titan Penal Colony
had been attacked by a huge black ship of space that carried a huge
dome-shaped turret on the top. Beams of invisible energy burned furrows
in the frozen ground, and the official buildings melted and exploded
from the air pressure within them. The Titan station went off the
ether with a roar, and the theorists believed that Murdoch's gang had
been augmented by four hundred and nineteen of the Solar System's most
vicious criminals.
"That rips it wide open," said Channing. "Better get the folks to
prepare to withstand a siege. I don't think they can take us."
"That devil might turn his beams on the Station itself, though," said
Walt.
"He wants to control communications."
"With the sub-electron beams we now have, he could do it on far less
Station for some time. Not perfectly, but he'd get along."
"Fine future," gritted Channing. "This is a good time to let this
project coast, Walt. We've got to start in from the beginning and walk
down another track."
"It's easy to say, chum."
"I know it. So far, all we've been able to do is to take energy from
the solar intake beams and spray it out into space. It goes like the
arrow that went--we know not where."
"So?"
"Forget these gadgets. Have Charley hook up the solar intake tubes
to the spotter and replace the cathodes with pure thorium. I've got
another idea."
"O.K., but it sounds foolish to me."
Channing laughed. "We'll stalemate him," he said bitterly, and
explained to Walt. "I wonder when Murdoch will come this way?"
"It's but a matter of time," said Walt. "My bet is as soon as he can
get here with that batch of fresh rats he's collected."
* * * * *
Walt's bet would have collected. Two days later, Hellion Murdoch
flashed a signal into Venus Equilateral and asked for Channing.
"Hello, Hellion," answered Channing. "Haven't you learned to keep out
of our way?"
"Not at all," answered Murdoch. "You won't try that betatron on me
again. This ship is coated with four tenths of an inch of lithium
metal, which according to the books will produce the maximum quantity
of electrons under secondary emission. If not the absolute maximum, it
is high enough to prevent your action."
"No," agreed Channing. "We won't try the betatron again. But, Murdoch,
there are other things."
"Can they withstand these?" asked Murdoch. The turret swiveled and the
triple-mount of tubes looked at Venus Equilateral.
"Might try," said Channing.
"Any particular place?" countered Murdoch.
"Hit the south end. We can best afford to lose that," answered Channing.
"You're either guessing, or hoping I won't fire, or perhaps praying
that whatever you have for protection will work," said Murdoch flatly.
"Otherwise you wouldn't talk so smooth."
"You black-hearted baby-killing rotter," snarled Don Channing. "I'm not
chinning with you for the fun of it. You'll shoot anyway, and I want to
see how good you are. Get it over with, Murdoch."
"What I have here is plenty good," said Murdoch. "Good enough. Do you
know about it?"
"I can guess, but you tell me."
"Naturally," said Hellion. He explained in detail. "Can you best that?"
"We may not be able to outfire you," gritted Channing, "but we may be
able to nullify your beam."
"Nonsense!" roared Murdoch, "Look, Channing, you'd best surrender."
"Never!"
"You'd rather die?"
"We'd rather fight it out. Come in and get us."
"Oh no. We'll just shoot your little Station full of holes. Like the
average spaceship, your Station will be quite capable of handling
communications even though the air is all gone. Filling us full of
holes wouldn't do a thing; you see, we're wearing spacesuits."
"I guessed that. No, Murdoch, we have nothing to shoot at you this
time. All we can do is to hold you off until you get hungry. You'll get
hungry first, since we're self-sufficient."
"And in the meantime?"
"In the meantime we're going to try a few things out on your hull.
I rather guess that you'll try out a few things on the Station, but
at the present, you can't harm us and we can't harm you. Stalemate,
Murdoch!'
"You're bluffing!" stormed Murdoch.
"Are you afraid to squirt that beam this way?" asked Channing
tauntingly. "Or do you know it will not work?"
"Why are you so anxious to get killed?"
"We're very practical, out here on Venus Equilateral," said Don.
"There's no use in working further if you have something that is really
good. We'd like to know our chances before we expend more effort along
another line."
"That's not all--?"
"No. Frankly, I'm almost certain that your beam won't do a thing to
Venus Equilateral."
"We'll see. Listen! Turretman! Are you ready?"