The best of e e doc smi.., p.8
The Best of E.E. Doc Smith, page 8
"We will escape the sun's mighty attraction, Doctor Stone, with approximately half a gravity to spare," the mathematician reported finally. "Whether we will be alive or not is another question. There will be heat, which our refrigerators may or may not be able to handle; there will be radiations which our armor may or may not be able to stop. You, of course, know a lot more about those things than I do." "Distance at closest approach?" snapped Stone.
"Two point twenty-nine times ten to the ninth meters from the sun's center," the computer shot back instantly. "That is, one million five hundred ninety thousand kilometers-only two point twenty-seven radii-from the arbitrary surface. What do you think of our chances, sir?" "It will probably be a near thing-very near," the physicist replied, thoughtfully. "Much, however, can be done. We can probably tune our defensive screens to block most of the harmful radiations, and we may be able to muster other defenses. I will analyze the radiations and see what we can do about neutralizing them." "You will go to bed," directed Martin, crisply. "There will be lots of time for that work after you get rested up. The doctors have been reporting that the men who did not recover from. the robots' broadcast are dying under this acceleration. With those facts staring us in the face, however, I do not see how we can reduce our power." "We can't. As it is, many more of us will probably die before we get away from the sun," and Stone staggered away, practically asleep on his feet.
Day after day the frightful fall continued. The sun grew larger and larger, more and ever more menacingly intense.
One by one at first, and then by scores, the mindless men of the Fleet died and were consigned to space--a man must be in full control of all his faculties to survive for long an acceleration of three gravities.
The generators of the defensive screens had early been tuned to neutralize as much as possible of Old Sol's most fervently harmful frequencies, and but for their mighty shields every man of the Fleet would have perished long since. Now even those ultra-powerful guards were proving inadequate.
Refrigerators were running at the highest possible overload and the men, pressing as closely as possible to the dark sides of their vessels, were availing themselves of such extra protection of lead shields and the like as could be improvised from whatever material was at hand.
Yet the already stifling air became hotter and hotter, eyes began to ache and burn, skins blistered and cracked under the punishing impact of forces which all the defenses could not block. But at last came the long-awaited announcement.
"Pilots and watch-officers of all ships, attention!" the Chief Computer spoke into his microphone through parched and blackened lips. "We are now at the point of tangency.
The gravity of the sun here is twenty-four point five meters per second squared. Since we are blasting twenty-nine point four we are beginning to pull away at an acceleration of four point nine. Until further notice keep your pointers directly away from. the sun's center, in the plane of the Ecliptic." The sun was now in no sense the orb of day with which we upon Earth's green surface are familiar. It was a gigantic globe of turbulently seething flame, subtending an angle of almost thirty-five degrees, blotting out a full fourth of the cone of normally distinct vision.
Sunspots were plainly to be seen; combinations of indescribably violent cyclonic storms and volcanic eruptions in a gaseously liquid medium of searing, eye-tearing incandescence. And everywhere, threatening at times even to reach the fiercely-struggling ships of space, were the solar prominences-fiendish javelins of frenziedly frantic destruction, hurling themselves in wild abandon out into the empty reaches of the void.
Eyes behind almost opaque lead-glass goggles, head and body encased in a multi-layered suit each ply of which was copiously smeared with thick lead paint, Stone studied the raging monster of the heavens from the closest viewpoint any human being had ever attained-and lived. Even he, protected as he was, could peer but briefly; and, master physicist though he was and astronomer-of-sorts, yet he was profoundly awed at the spectacle.
Twice that terrifying mass was circled. Then, air-temperature again bearable and lethal radiations stopped, the grueling acceleration was reduced to a heavenly one-and-one-half gravities and the vast fleet remade its formation.
The automatons and the sun between them had taken heavy toll; but the gaps were filled, men were transferred to equalize the losses of personnel, and the course was laid for distant Earth. And in the Admiral's private quarters two men sat together and stared at each other.
"Well, that's that-so far, so good," the physicist broke the long silence.
"But is their power really broken?", asked Martin" anxiously.
"I don't know"" Stone grunted, dourly. "But the pick of them-the brainiest of the lot-were undoubtedly here. We beat them....
Martin interrupted.
"You beat them, you mean," he said.
"With a lot of absolutely indispensable help from you and your force. But have it your own way-what do words matter? I beat them, then; and in the same sense I can beat the rest of them if we play our cards exactly right." "In what way?" "In keeping me entirely out of the picture. Believe me, Martin, it is of the essence that all of your officers who know what happened be sworn to silence and that not a word about me leaks out to anybody. Put out any story you please except the truth-mention the name of anybody or anything between here and Andromeda except me.
Promise me now that you will not let my name get out until I give you permission or until after I am dead." "But I'll have to, in my reports." "You report only to the Supreme Council, and a good half of those reports are sealed. Seal this one." "But I think...." "What with?" gruffly, "If my name becomes known my usefulness-and my life-are done. Remember, Martin, I know robots. There are some capable ones left, and if they get wind of me in any way they'll get me before I can get them. As things are, and with your help, I can and I will get them all. That's a promise. Have I yours?" "In that case, of course you have." And Admiral Alan Martin and Doctor Ferdinand Stone were men who kept their promises.
PIRATES OF SPACE
Interplanentary ships disappear in space without trace, leaving no wreckage behind them... whilst a huge invisible planetoid floats unobserved in an orbit around the sun.
Apparently motionless to her passengers and crew, the Interplanetary liner Hyperion bored serenely onward through space at normal acceleration. In the railed-off sanctum in one corner of the control room a bell tinkled, a smothered whirr was heard, and Captain Bradley frowned as he studied the brief message upon the tape of the recorder a message flashed to his desk from the operator's panel. He beckoned, and the second officer, whose watch it now was, read aloud: "Reports of scout patrols still negative." "Still negative." The officer scowled in thought. "They've already searched beyond the wildest possible location of wreckage, too. Two unexplained disappearances inside a month-first the Dione, then the Rhea-and not a plate nor a lifeboat recovered. Looks bad, sir. One might be an accident; two might possibly be a coincidence..." His voice died away.
"But at three it would get to be a habit," the captain finished the thought. "And whatever happened, happened quick.
Neither of them had time to say a word-their location recorders simply went dead. But of course they didn't have our detector screens nor our armament. According to the observatories we're in clear ether, but I wouldn't trust them from Tellus to Luna. You have given the new orders, of course?" "Yes, sir. Detectors full out, all three courses of defensive screen on the trips, projectors manned, suits on the hooks. Every object detected to be investigated immediately-if vessels, they are to be warned to stay beyond extreme range. Anything entering the fourth zone is to be rayed." "Right-we are going through!" "But no known type of vessel could have made away with them without detection," the second officer argued. "I wonder if there isn't something in those wild rumors we've been hearing lately?" "Bah! Of course not!" snorted the captain. "Pirates in ships faster than light-sub-ethereal rays-nullification of gravity mass without inertia-ridiculous! Proved impossible, over and over again. No, sir, if pirates are operating in space-and it looks very much like it-they won't get far against a good big battery full of kilowatt-hours behind three courses of heavy screen, and good gunners behind multiplex projectors. They're good enough for anybody. Pirates" Neptunians, angels, or devils-in ships or on broomsticks-if they tackle the Hyperion we'll burn them out of the ether!" Leaving the captain's desk, the watch officer resumed his tour of duty. The six great lookout plates into which the alert observers peered were blank" their far-flung ultra sensitive detector screens encountering no obstacle-the ether was empty for thousands upon thousands of kilometers. The signal lamps upon the pilot's panel were dark, its warning bells were silent. A brilliant point of white light in the center of the pilot's closely ruled micrometer grating, exactly upon the cross-hairs of his directors, showed that the immense vessel was precisely upon the calculated course laid down by the automatic integrating course plotters. Everything was quiet and in order.
"All's well, sir," he reported briefly to Captain Bradley but all was not well.
Danger-more serious by far in that it was not external was even then, all unsuspected, gnawing at the great ship's vitals. In a locked and shielded compartment, deep down in the interior of the liner, was the great air purifier. Now a man leaned against the primary duct-the aorta through which flowed the stream of pure air supplying the entire vessel. This man, grotesque in full panoply of space armor, leaned against the duct, and as he leaned a drill bit deeper and deeper into the steel wall of the pipe. Soon it broke through, and the slight rush of air was stopped by the insertion of a tightly fitting rubber tube. The tube terminated in a heavy rubber balloon, which surrounded a frail glass bulb. The man stood tense, one hand holding before his silica-and-steel-helmeted head a large pocket chronometer, the other lightly grasping the balloon. A sneering grin was upon his face as he waited the exact second of action-the carefully predetermined instant when his right hand, closing, would shatter the fragile flask and force its contents into the primary air stream of the Hyperion! Far above, in the main saloon, the regular evening dance was in full swing. The ship's orchestra crashed into silence, there was a patter of applause, and Clio Marsden, radiant belle of the voyage, led her partner out on to the promenade and up to one of the observation plates.
"Oh, we can't see the Earth any more!" she exclaimed. "Which way do you turn this, Mr. Costigan?" "Like this," and Conway Costigan, burly young First Officer of the liner, turned the dials. "There-this plate is looking back, or down" at Tellus; this other one is looking ahead." Earth was a brilliantly shining crescent far beneath the flying vessel. Above her, ruddy Mars and silvery Jupiter blazed in splendor ineffable against a background of utterly indescribable blackness-a background thickly besprinkled with dimensionless points of dazzling brilliance which were the stars.
"Oh, isn't it wonderful!" breathed the girl, awed. "Of course, I suppose that it's old stuff to you, but I'm a ground-gripper, you know, and I could look at it forever, I think. That's why I want to come out here after every dance. You know, I..." Her voice broke off suddenly, with a queer, rasping catch, as she seized his arm in a frantic clutch and as quickly went limp. He stared at her sharply, and understood instantly the message written in her eyes-eyes now enlarged, staring, hard, brilliant, and full of soul-searching terror as she slumped down, helpless but for his support.
In the act of exhaling as he was, lungs almost entirely empty" yet he held his breath until he had seized the microphone from his belt and had snapped the lever to "emergency." "Control room!" he gasped then, and every speaker throughout the great cruiser of the void blared out the warning as he forced his already evacuated lungs to absolute emptiness.
"Vee-Two Gas! Get tight!" Writhing and twisting in his fierce struggle to keep his lungs from gulping in a draft of that noxious atmosphere, and with the unconscious form of the girl draped limply over his left arm, Costigan leaped towards the portal of the nearest lifeboat. Orchestra instruments crashed to the floor and dancing couples fell and sprawled inertly while the tortured First Officer swung the door of the lifeboat open and dashed across the tiny room to the air-valves.
Throwing them wide open, he put his mouth to the orifice and let his laboring lungs gasp their eager fill of the cold blast roaring from the tanks. Then" air-hunger partially assuaged, he again held his breath, broke open the emergency locker, donned one of the space-suits always kept there, and opened its valves wide in order to flush out of his uniform any lingering trace of the lethal gas.
He then leaped back to his companion. Shutting off the air, he released a stream of pure oxygen, held her face in it, and made shift to force some of it into her lungs by compressing and releasing her chest against his own body.
Soon she drew a spasmodic breath, choking and coughing, and he again changed the gaseous stream to one of pure air" speaking urgently as she showed signs of returning .consciousness.
"Stand up!" he snapped. "Hang on to this brace and keep your face in this air-stream until I get a suit around you! Got me!" She nodded weakly, and, assured that she could bold herself at the valve, it was the work of only a minute to encase her in one of the protective coverings. Then, as she sat upon a bench, recovering her strength. he flipped on the lifeboat's visiphone projector and shot its invisible beam up into the control room, where he saw space-armored figures curiously busy at the panels.
"Dirty work at the cross-roads!" he blazed to his captain, man to man-formality disregarded, as it so often was in the Triplanetary service. "There's skulduggery afoot somewhere in our primary air! Maybe that's the way they got those other two ships-pirates! Might have been a timed bomb-don't see how anybody could have stowed away down there through the inspections, and nobody but Franklin can neutralize the shield of the air room-but I'm going to look around, anyway. Then I'll join you fellows up there." "What was it?" the shaken girl asked. "I think that I remember your saying "Vee-Two gas." That's forbidden! Anyway, I owe you my life, Conway, and I'll never forget it-never. Thanks-but the others-how about all the rest of us?" "It was Vee-Two, and it is forbidden," Costigan replied grimly, eyes fast upon the flashing plate, whose point of projection was now deep in the bowels of the vessel. "The penalty for using it or having it is death on sight.
Gangsters and pirates use it, since they have nothing to lose, being on the death list already. As for your life, I haven't saved it yet-you may wish I'd let it ride before we get done. The others are too far gone for oxygen-couldn't have brought even you around in a few more seconds, quick as I got to you. But there's a sure antidote-we all carry it in a lock-box in our armor-and we all know how to use it, because crooks all use Vee-Two and so we're always expecting it. But since the air will be pure again in half an hour we'll be able to revive the others easily enough if we can get by with whatever is going to happen next. There's the bird that did it, right in the air-room.
It's the Chief Engineer's suit, but that isn't Franklin that's in it. Some passenger-disguised-slugged the Chief-took his suit and projectors-hole in duct-p-s-s-t! All washed out! Maybe that's all he was scheduled to do to us in this performance, but he'll do something else in his life." "Don't go down there!" protested the girl. "His armor is so much better than that emergency suit you are wearing, and he's got Mr. Franklin's Lewiston, besides!" "Don't be an idiot!" he snapped. "We can't have a live pirate aboard-we're going to be altogether too busy with outsiders directly. Don't worry, I'm not going to give him a break. I'll take a Standish-I'll rub him out like a blot.
Stay right here until I come back after you," he commanded, and the heavy door of the lifeboat clanged shut behind him as he leaped out into the promenade. Straight across the saloon he made his way, paying no attention to the inert forms scattered here and there. Going up to a blank wall, he manipulated an almost invisible dial set flush with its surface, swung a heavy door aside, and lifted out the Standish-a fearsome weapon. Squat" huge, and heavy, it resembled somewhat an overgrown machine rifle, but one possessing a thick, short telescope" with several opaque condensing lenses and parabolic reflectors. Laboring under the weight of the thing, he strode along corridors and clambered heavily down short stairways. Finally he came to the purifier room, and grinned savagely as he saw the greenish haze of light obscuring the door and walls-the shield was still in place; the pirate was still inside, stilt flooding with the terrible VeeTwo the Hyperion's primary air.
He set his peculiar weapon down, unfolded its three massive legs, crouched down behind it, and threw in a switch.
Dull red beams of frightful intensity shot from the reflectors and sparks, almost of lightning proportions" leaped snapping, the conflict went on for seconds, then, under the superior force of the Standish, the greenish radiance gave way. Behind it the metal of the door ran the gamut of color-red, yellow, blinding white-then literally exploded; molten, vaporized, burned away. Through the aperture thus made Costigan could plainly see the pirate in the space-armor of the chief engineer-an armor which was proof against rifle fire and which could reflect and neutralize for some little time even the terrific beam Costigan was employing. Nor was the pirate unarmed-a vicious flare of incandescence leaped from his Lewiston, to spend its force in spitting, cracking pyrotechnics against the ether-wall of the squat and monstrous Standish. But Costigan's infernal engine did not rely only upon vibratory destruction. At almost the first flash of the pirate's weapon the officer touched a trigger, there was a double report" ear-shattering in that narrowly confined space, and the pirate's body literally flew into mist as a half-kilogram shell tore through his armor and exploded. Costigan shut off his beam, and with not the slightest softening of one hard lineament stared around the air-room; making sure that no serious damage had been done to the vital machinery of the air-purifier-the very lungs of the great spaceship. Dismounting the Standish, he lugged it back up to the main saloon, replaced it in its safe" and again set the combination lock. Thence to the lifeboat, where Clio cried out in relief as she saw that he was unhurt.
