Collected short fiction, p.478
Collected Short Fiction, page 478
“Sorry. Go on.”
Grave and eager as a child, he thought, she resumed:
“Even in the big telescope, the thing was just a dot. But still there it was—hundreds of millions of kilometers out of the ecliptic, and coming back to cross it just where Bode’s law would put the orbit of the lost fifth planet.
“Rick was pretty much impressed. He went back to the Jane and apologized to Cap’n Rob. Rick’s a splendid fellow, really,” she added soberly, “even if he is pretty much wrapped up in Karen Hood.”
Ann’s gray eyes were wide and innocent. Something in her voice, nevertheless, told Anders that she knew he had been in love with the red-haired Interplanet heiress, himself. Without knowing exactly why, the Earthman flushed uncomfortably.
“On the way back to Freedonia,” Ann went on demurely, “Rick did some calculating of his own. He told Cap’n Rob that the natural forces of the collision couldn’t have given the object such a high velocity without it shattering or fusing. Besides, the angle seemed an impossible resultant.
“Rick said it had to be a ship!”
Anders nodded silently. Carefully he lit another cigarette. He had to be careful to keep his brown fingers from trembling. He didn’t want the girl to see his excitement—or to guess that he was thinking of von Falkenberg’s film, of that broken golden needle and the winding spiral ramp within it, too narrow for the feet of men.
“The thing was just a dot in the telescope,” Ann continued gravely. “But Rick thought the edges of it were smooth and asteroids are always jagged. He didn’t know quite what to think. He was afraid to believe his own calculations.
“But Cap’n Rob didn’t seem surprised. He said he already knew there must have been seetee people on the Invader, because he had seen bits of things they had made. Perhaps some of them had left in a ship, he said, just before the collision, trying to escape. And the ship—if anything so big could really be a ship—must have used a repulsion drive that reacted against the colliding planets.
“Cap’n Rob decided to investigate it. But Rick and his father were just finishing the seetee hammer—they still thought it was going to work—and they couldn’t leave it. Rick said there wasn’t much you could do with a seetee ship, anyhow, till you learned how to handle seetee.
“Of course, I nearly died to go.” Ann smiled from her perch on the stool. “But I had to stay to buy supplies and pilot Erickson through our mine field—we didn’t know you were coming.
“Mr. Drake wanted Cap’n Rob to wait. But he has a stubborn streak and he was determined to go on alone. The cranky old engine wasn’t dependable enough for such a long voyage, so he had a new one installed. Seems you nearly caught him, back at Pallasport.” Her gray eyes were quizzical. “And I guess you know the rest, captain.”
“So McGee found a seetee bedplate on that ship!” Anders gave up trying to conceal his excitement. “To carry terrene machines on a seetee foundation, I s’pose? That means that those seetee people . . . things, whatever they were . . . knew how to work terrene matter!”
“Probably.” Ann made a tired little yawn and seemed suddenly in danger of falling off the tall stool. “But that’s all I know about it. Now I’m sorry if I’m really going to cause all that bother, captain, but I’m awfully sleepy.”
“Sorry to keep you up so late.” For midnight. Mandate time, had come before they landed on Freedonia. Anders realized that now it was almost time for breakfast. “Sweet dreams, beautiful.”
He gave her the key to his vacated cabin and telephoned the astragation officer, on the deck below, to show her down to it. With a shy, heavyeyed little smile of thanks she slipped gracefully down the companion.
But Anders felt wide awake.
For a long time he stood alone beside the muted click and pur of the pilot-robot, thinking over all that had happened since he walked into Commissioner Hood’s metal-walled office at Pallasport, intending to retire from the High Space Guard.
He hadn’t expected this adventure—to be driving a warship half a billion kilometers out of the ecliptic, to fight a Martian spy for the priceless wreck of a contraterrene ship derelict for nine hundred centuries!
But he was a practical spatial engineer, used to taking emergencies in stride. This was just another job. He had to beat the asterites and the Martians, and get that seetee bedplate for Interplanet. That was really all that mattered.
Anders felt that he ought to be elated over the prospect of such important and unusual duty, and he couldn’t quite define his own vague, uneasy discontent. Annoyed at his own want of spirit, he tried to plan the task ahead.
His most formidable opponent was sure to be von Falkenberg, armed with the advantage of five days’ lead. But the Martian, not expecting him, might be still about the wreck. The Challenge,
Anders felt grimly certain, could outrun and out-shoot anything in space.
Then he fell to wondering about the derelict itself. Eighty million tons seemed very big for just a ship. Thinking of the golden needle on von Falkenberg’s film, he tried to imagine what sort of beings could have moved on that narrow winding footway, with its handrail too high for men to reach—
TO BE CONCLUDED.
Opposites—React!
SECOND of Two Parts. The ship had been built by beings utterly alien—in thought, in form, in the nature of the very atoms of their flesh. They were made of contraterrene atoms; their skip was half made of that dreaded seetee—and full of a hundred death traps left by their alien minds!
At the time, control of the Solar System was balanced on a. knife edge of mutually jealous Powers. There was Earth, the Martian Reich, the Jovian Soviet—all, theoretically, working together in the High Space Mandate. But there was, too, Interplanet, an Earth-owned commercial corporation that wielded such economic power under the Mandate as to approach the status of an independent Power. And finally, there were the asterites—the hard pioneers who had settled on the asteroids and now wanted their independence from the rule of the Planets, exerted through the High Space Mandate.
The trigger that could blow that delicate balance to clashing bits was the secret of “seetee”—of contraterrene matter, matter that is made of positrons and neyatrons and reacts instantly and with atomic violence when in contact with normal terrene matter of electron and proton structure.
Drake, McGee & Drake is a company of Asterites who have an asteroid laboratory where—opposed by every legal trick possible to Interplanet—they are trying to find how to handle the explosive, deadly power of seetee, to tame it into something useful. Captain Paul Anders, an Interplanet engineer and a captain in the High Space Mandate, is assigned to investigate the Drake, McGee & Drake set-up—and to find the secret of handling the untouchable seetee.
He goes to Freedonia, the asteroid laboratory of the Drakes, guided into a landing—reluctantly—by Ann O’Banion, daughter of an old friend of the elder Drake. The guide is necessary; Freedonia is surrounded by circling bits of seetee meteoric matter—and, because the Martian-German, Franz von Falkenberg, made an out-and-out holdup attack to try to steal their secrets, the asteroid now has a band of invisible mines floating about it in space. On the asteroid he sees the Drakes’ failure—a forging hammer of pure seetee iron. The huge power hammer is a crude mass of meteoric seetee iron raised and lowered by paragravity fields to strike on a massive block of meteoric seetee iron that serves as the anvil. But it won’t work; after half a dozen blows the huge iron hammer starts rocking in its supporting force-fields, and actually touches the terrene matter of the supports, releasing a short, violent blast of gamma rays and the hammer is stopped. The absolute necessity is a bedplate; some kind of rigid, strong and compact mechanism or shaft by which the two mutually destructive substances—seetee and terrene matter—can be bolted into solid alignment. Given that one thing, the problem of handling seetee could be licked in a month.
Then, going back to his ship, the “Challenge” Anders hears a photophone call from Rob McGee that’s intended for the Drakes on Freedonia. Only because Anders is himself there can he intercept the tight-beam photophone. McGee has found a mysterious object in space, one he believes is a construction made by intelligent beings of contraterrene matter who originally inhabited the seetee planet that, crashing into the ancient trans-Martian planet, gave rise to the asteroids and their deadly seetee drift. McGee’s found it—but a Martian warship, evidently under von Falkenberg, has followed, and is attacking him. One thing McGee does report for certain before his photophone cuts off—he has a perfect seetee-terrene bedplate. McGee, in the “Good-by Jane” had the Drakes’ only ship; they cant help him. Anders, with his Mandate cruiser “Challenge” could. Again Ann O’Banion is—reluctantly—forced to pilot him to the place where McGee may have been destroyed. Reluctantly not only because she doesn’t want to help an Interplanet man to the secret of seetee—which would mean that she and the other asterites would never regain independence—
but also because of the unpleasant, polyglot crew of the “Challenge,” Commander Protopopov, a Callistonian Russian, Anders’ second in command, is a fat, stupidfaced man always finding complex and dubious reasons behind simple acts, and Ann hates him for it. Anders isn’t any too keen on him, or the rest of the crew. But the High Space Mandate law requires that the Mandate forces be polyglot-mixtures taken from each planet of the System on which men have established colonies. Except, of course, the asteroids.
IX.
The huge Callistonian, Protopopov, came lumbering up the companionway steps to the bridge. His puttylike face held an expression of moronic expectancy. He glanced with his curious animal eyes at the clicking pilot-robot, and then faced Anders with the bearlike caricature of a salute.
“Yes, commander, we’ve left Freedonia,” Anders told him. “Now we are bound for another object, unlisted in the Ephemeris, five hundred million kilometers south of the ecliptic. This is an urgent and important mission.
“Aye, sir.” The broad stupid face broke into a sudden grimace of crafty admiration. “So these Martian agents were preparing another secret base, far out there, for a flanking attack on the Mandate? Ah, it’s a deep and clever game you’re playing, captain!” His small opaque eyes leered knowingly. “And I see why you’ve installed that pretty little asterite stool pigeon in your cabin!”
Anders tried not to flush. He gave Protopopov a cigarette and fumbled with his lighter, to conceal a wave of savage, unreasoning anger. At last, trusting his voice again, he said:
“True, Miss O’Banion gave us the position.”
Protopopov made his bubbling chuckle.
“Aye, you’ve a way with the women, captain!”
“Commander, this is a dangerous operation.”
Anders couldn’t help his voice turning brittle. “In spite of any aid I can get from Miss O’Banion, we are likely to encounter enemy forces, either at space or on the object ahead. We must take all precautions.”
“You are very wise, captain,” agreed the Callistonian.
“The ship will be blacked out, at once.” Anders rapped the orders. “The crew will remain on twenty-four-hour alert. Periscope lookouts will be doubled. Thermalarm and photophone pickups will be set to full sensitivity. Gun crews will be drilled daily.”
“Aye, sir.”
It is quite possible that we may encounter a Martian warship, trespassing on high space in defiance of the treaty. If any vessel is sighted, inform me at once and sound battle stations. If it is the Martian and he refuses to surrender, we must be prepared to blow him out of space.”
Aye, sir,” came that rasping whisper.
Also, commander,” the Earthman added, “I’m expecting to sight a small space tug, the Good-by Jane. Unarmed, but very fast. It is necessary for us to take her skipper alive, if possible, because he is believed to possess information highly valuable to Interplanet.”
“Aye, sir!” The Callistonian made his fat, moronic grin. “You’re very clever, captain. You’ll be winning medals and a juicy Interplanet bonus for us all!”
Anders left him on the bridge, ate a solitary breakfast in the cruiser’s small wardroom, and went to sleep on a cot in the chart room—he hadn’t really started the threatened chain of evacuations, because he didn’t want to provide any personal dislike for the inevitable official disapproval of Ann O’Banion.
“ ’Smatter, gorgeous?”
It was noon of the second day out, and they were dining alone in the wardroom—the conventions of the High Space Guard forbade Anders to eat with his subordinate officers, but he had invited Ann to join him.
At breakfast she had been lighthearted and charming, as if the voyage were a thrilling adventure and they no longer need be enemies. But now found her staring at him over her teacup, in troubled silence.
Her tense brown face met his cheerful question with a shy, uncertain smile, as if she didn’t quite know how to take such adjectives. She looked uneasily at the door. “Nothing really, captain.” Her voice was muted and afraid. “Only I don’t quite like your fellow officers.”
He stiffened with anger and concern.
“If any of them has been improper—”
“I didn’t mean that,” she interrupted hastily. “But yesterday I saw Muratori looking after you, up the companion steps, as if he would like to shoot you in the back. Omura is always polite—much too polite, and you can’t tell what he’s thinking. And Commander Protopopov—that gurgling laugh of his just gives me the creeps!”
She leaned urgently over her forgotten plate.
“How can you trust them, captain?” Her cautious whisper was taut and anxious. “When you think of what we’re after—the key to contraterrene matter! How do you know that one of them won’t murder you for it?”
He grinned at her solemn concern.
“I can’t trust any one of them,” he admitted cheerfully. “But then, y’see, none of them can trust any of the others. Divide and rule—that’s the way Interplanet runs the Mandate. Set a spy to catch a spy. We aren’t going to be murdered—so smile again, beautiful.”
But she didn’t smile.
“And I suppose Commissioner Hood doesn’t trust even you?” she whispered anxiously. “I mean, if you decided to join us and help get that bedplate for Drake, McGee & Drake—all your crew would be against you?”
Anders caught his breath. He was first surprised and then angry and then he laughed. He saw the moon face of the Venusian-Cantonese waiter appear inquiringly, and ordered another pot of tea. The girl’s serious brown face turned pink before his laughter.
“Well, bewitching, you’re a little optimist!” he told her softly, when the waiter was gone. “I come from three generations of Interplanet engineers. How d’you think you’re going to charm me into turning traitor now?”
“I’m not bewitching!” she told him hotly. She pushed back her plate, and ran out of the wardroom.
Early on the fifth day out from Freedonia, Anders climbed the bridge companion, from his cot in the chart room. Commander Protopopov, crouched at the periscope, turned with a shambling ursine swiftness to face him.
“This object ahead, sir.” The huge exile’s croaking whisper was deep with excitement. “I had assumed it to be only a stray planetoid, which these Martian agents had occupied for a concentration base against the Mandate.”
“A logical assumption,” Anders said cheerfully.
“But you knew it wasn’t?” The Callistonian lowered his hoarse whisper, confidentially. His crafty animal eyes flickered watchfully at the companion; and then he searched the tall Earthman’s face, with a look of penetrating cunning.
Meeting that blank flat stare, Anders almost shuddered. Despite his careless assurances to Ann, he wished that Hood’s inside organization had been able to find him a different crew, Men willing to sell their loyalty for Interplanet dollars might sell again, for rubles or rupees or marks.
“Miss O’Banion had hinted,” he agreed calmly, “that the object might be . . . er . . . a construction. I understand that it is the expression of a novel engineering principle. Our mission is to discover that principle for Interplanet.”
The putty face brightened.
“Then it really is a Martian fortress?” whispered Protopopov. “But the asterite girl knows the password? And she is willing to betray it to you?” His broad moronic face broke into a hideous smile of admiration, and he brought his immense black-haired hands together with a startling crash. “Ah, my clever captain, a pretty woman can keep nothing from you!”
With desperate effort, Anders managed a thin smile.
“Forget Miss O’Banion.” His voice turned brittle again. “Because hostile action is very probable. It is time to sound the action alarm. Change the periscope men every thirty minutes. Watch for those two ships—the Martian cruiser and the tug.”
“Aye, sir.” And Protopopov made a moronic smile, at his own invention. “But the men do not require the truth. Despite all our precautions, we may have Martian agents among them. I shall inform them that the object before us is the headquarters of a band of outlaw asterites, who have stolen a secret process developed by yourself for the manufacture of terraforming diamonds.”
“Very good, commander.” Anders grinned. “Although terraforming diamonds can’t be manufactured.”
The big Callistonian made his hollow, bubbling chuckle. With a bearlike salute, he shambled down the steps. Impatiently, Anders turned to the periscope. McGee’s object was swelling now, at last, before the decelerating cruiser.
The thing was tiny, still. But he could see the shape of it, bright in the sun, very sharp and clear against the gulf of frosty dark beyond. And, in spite of all he knew about it, the sight took his breath.
The object was shaped somewhat like an egg. His engineer’s mind found the more accurate term, ellipsoid. But the curve of it was bound, about the smallest diameter, with an evidently massive rim. Thick supporting ribs arched up from that, converging toward the poles. And each pole was a jutting cylinder.
