The Space Opera Megapack

by John W. Campbell

  Through the day, the pirates toiled with an energy that showed their earnest desire to leave the asteroid. That desire was reinforced by the ever-larger number of Vestans that now swarmed outside the wall.

  There were literally hundreds of the gray parasites now outside the barrier. To have tried going outside the wall now would have been sheer suicide. The creatures were apparently driven by unholy eagerness to possess themselves of human bodies.

  Gloria, looking out with Kenniston, shuddered deeply. “This horrible world! It’s like a nightmare.”

  “We’ll soon be away from it,” Kenniston reassured. “See, they’ve almost finished repairing the Falcon.”

  * * * *

  The urgent toil of the pirates was showing results. By the time night came again, and the meteor-moonlets blazed forth with magic beauty in the dark heavens, the task of repair was almost done.

  Kenniston and his companions had not ventured forth from the hut. Pirates were everywhere in the clearing, and all had heard John Dark’s strict order to blast down the captives if they left their prison.

  But from the hut, Kenniston and the others could see that the horde of Vestan-dominated animals around the camp had further increased. With ghastly avidity, they kept circling the shimmering, electric wall.

  Kenniston turned in alarm at a ripping sound from the back of the log hut. Two of the logs were being torn out bodily. The battered green face and giant shoulders of Holk Or came through the opening.

  “Kenniston, I came in this way because I didn’t dare let Dark see me talking to you!” the Jovian exclaimed. His face was urgent in expression. “I’ve found out that Dark doesn’t mean to let your friends here get away from Vesta alive.”

  “What?” exclaimed Kenniston. “That’s impossible! Dark said he was going to hold Gloria and the others for ransom.”

  Holk Or nodded hastily. “I know, and he meant it, then. But since then, he’s found out something that’s changed his plans. He found it out from me—like a big fool, I told him everything when he questioned me.”

  The Jovian continued rapidly. “I told him that Murdock had sent that telaudio message back to Patrol headquarters, asking about my record. Now Dark figures that the Patrol will come out here to find out if that message meant that some of John Dark’s outfit had actually escaped.

  “Dark wants the Patrol to keep thinking that he and his outfit were destroyed—so he can slip out to Pluto and prepare a new base. So Dark, when he leaves here, is going to drop Miss Loring and her friends by the wrecked Sunsprite, so the Patrol will find ’em dead by the wreck and will believe their cruiser crashed accidentally. That way, they won’t go on searching as they would if Miss Loring’s party was all missing. And Dark will have a chance to get out to Pluto without an alarm going out.”

  Kenniston was suspicious. “Why do you tell us this, Holk? You’re one of the pirates yourself.”

  “I know, but I’m afraid Dark means to drop me with the others by the Sunsprite!” Holk Or exclaimed. “He didn’t say so, but I believe he figures on doing it so that the telaudio inquiry about me would be explained when I was found dead with the others by the wreck.”

  Murdock said swiftly, “The Jovian’s right, Kenniston. All this is just what Dark would do, to hide his trail, now that he knows my telaudio message may have aroused the Patrol’s suspicion.”

  Holk Or said emphatically, “I’m with you if you can figure out any way to take the Falcon, Kenniston!”

  Kenniston paced to and fro. His whole mind was suddenly in a wild turmoil of stark fears. This meant death for Gloria and the others, and the ultimate responsibility for that death would be his.

  “There is one possible chance for us to take the Falcon,” he muttered finally. “But my God, it seems like an insane idea—”

  “Wait a minute!” Captain Walls interrupted. “Dark won’t drop you and your brother to die, Kenniston. He still needs your brother as a physician. You two will be safe even if we are killed.”

  “What of that? I can’t let Gloria and the rest of you be murdered! I was willing to sacrifice you when I thought it was only a question of your being held for ransom, but this changes everything,” Kenniston said wildly.

  “It doesn’t change anything,” the captain said firmly. “Your duty is to keep your brother alive at all costs, to save that formula that means life and hope for thousands of gravitation-paralysis victims like my son.”

  “You mean—I should let you all be killed so Ricky and I can be saved?” Kenniston cried. “I’m damned if I will!”

  “We’ll never do that!” Ricky Kenniston agreed warmly. “No formula in the world is worth that.”

  “This formula is,” Gloria said earnestly to Kenniston. “The captain is right.”

  “I won’t do it,” Kenniston repeated. “I have an idea by which we might be able to take the Falcon. We’re going to try it.”

  “Be reasonable, Kenniston,” pleaded Hugh Murdock. “None of us except Holk Or has a weapon. What chance would we have against half a hundred armed pirates?”

  Kenniston looked at his brother. “Ricky, your formula strengthens the nervous system against any form of shock or damage, doesn’t it? You said it did it by sheathing the nerves themselves with an impenetrable coating.”

  Ricky nodded puzzledly. “Yes, that’s the principle. But how is that going to help us?”

  “The Vestans,” Kenniston reminded, “seize control of their victims by inserting those tiny needle antennae of theirs into the victim’s nerve-system to establish contact. Wouldn’t your formula insulate the nerves against such contact? Wouldn’t it make a man immune to Vestan attack?”

  “Why, it would!” Ricky declared wonderingly. “I never thought of it, yet it’s entirely logical.”

  “Then,” Kenniston said swiftly, “I want you to give every one of us, including yourself, an injection of the formula right now.”

  The driving purpose in his voice brushed aside all their bewildered questions and objections. Hastily, Ricky prepared his hypodermics and rapidly made an injection of the milky fluid into the big nerve-centers in the neck of each of them. Kenniston did the same for Ricky himself.

  “We should be immune now to Vestan attack,” Kenniston said prayerfully.

  “But what good’s that going to do us?” Holk Or demanded. “Are you figuring to try an escape into the jungle?”

  “No, I’m figuring on taking the Falcon—by using the Vestans,” Kenniston replied. “Holk, can you get into the ship and turn off the power that keeps the electric wall going? Can you drop the wall?”

  The Jovian’s jaw dropped. “Why, sure, I could do that, but if I did, all those hordes of Vestans outside the wall will burst in here—”

  He stopped, his eyes bulging. “Good God, then that’s your plan? To let the Vestans in?”

  “That’s it,” Kenniston said tightly, his face grim. “To let the Vestans in on the pirates. That’ll give us a chance to take the ship—if the formula really makes us immune to the Vestans.”

  The terrible nature of the proposal stunned them all. But in a moment a flame of purpose lit in the Jovian’s eyes.

  “I’ll do it!” he swore. “It’s better than waiting for Dark to kill me like he’s planning. You be ready!”

  The Jovian slipped out of the opening in the back of the hut. They saw him presently, casually approaching the door of the Falcon.

  John Dark stood, a tall, dominant figure in the moonslight, barking orders to the scores of pirates who were bolting in the last of the new rocket-tubes. Kenniston’s eyes swung toward the shimmering electric wall, and the horde of Vestan-dominated animals outside it.

  The wall suddenly died! And as the electric barrier vanished, into the clearing came rushing the swarm of asteroidal animals.

  “The wall’s down!” John Dark yelled, his atom-gun leaping into his hand. “Get back into the ship—get back—”

  The crash of his atom-gun drowned his own shout. Other pirates were firing wildl
y at the hideous creatures assailing them.

  For the little gray Vestans had detached themselves from their animal victims and were swarming upon the pirates, clambering with blurring speed up their legs and backs, sinking into their necks the tiny antennae.

  Kenniston glimpsed John Dark, with a hideous little gray bunch now fastened to the back of his neck, drop his gun and stalk stiffly away toward the jungle. His face was an unhuman, lifeless mask—he was a human automaton, dominated utterly by the alien creature.

  “Come on!” Kenniston yelled to his friends. “Now’s our chance to get into the ship!”

  They plunged out of the hut into the gruesome melee. Screaming pirates were now running into the jungle in vain effort to escape the hordes of Vestans. More than half the corsairs were now overcome.

  Kenniston heard a scream from Gloria as they ran, felt a swift scurrying up his back, then the needle-like stab of antennae sinking into his neck.

  But the parasitic creature did not overpower his will! He reached around, grasped and tore loose the hideous little thing, and with strong revulsion flung it to the ground.

  “Your formula works, Ricky—we’re immune to them!” he gasped. “But hurry!”

  Other Vestans were clambering up on them like ghastly gray spiders as they ran, but were powerless to overcome them. They tore away the creatures and plunged on.

  Holk Or appeared in the door of the Falcon, his green face blazing as his atom-pistol pumped crashing fire into pirates inside the ship.

  “I’ve got the ship cleared of them!” the Jovian shouted to Kenniston. “Let’s get out of here!”

  It was time they did so. Almost the last of John Dark’s pirates had been possessed by Vestans and had become parasite-dominated robots stumbling off into the jungle. The remaining swarms of gray creatures were scurrying toward Kenniston’s group.

  They tumbled into the Falcon and slammed shut the space-door. The ship, completely if roughly repaired, was ready for take-off. Captain Walls and the men of the Sunsprite crew hastily started the newly-installed cyclotrons while Kenniston and the others raced up to the bridge.

  Kenniston took the controls. He sent the big black pirate ship leaping up into the darkness upon flaming keel and tail-jets, and then it climbed steeply toward the wonderful sky of countless rushing moonlets.

  By the time an hour had passed, the Falcon had groped out through the periodic break in the meteor-swarm around the asteroid. And it was throbbing at steadily increasing speed out into the vault of space, away from the World with a Thousand Moons.

  “We’ll head for Mars,” Kenniston told the others. “We can report there to the Patrol.”

  “If you don’t mind,” Holk Or put in hastily, “I’d just as soon you dropped me at some asteroid before then. I’ve no desire to meet the Patrol.”

  Captain Walls told the Jovian, “Nonsense! After what you’ve done, you’ll get a full pardon from the Patrol.”

  “You can count on it,” Hugh Murdock told the doubtful Jovian. “We have some influence, back at Earth.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll have to go honest, then,” sighed Holk Or. “All the real pirate outfits are gone now, anyway.” He shook his head heavily as he walked away. “The System sure isn’t what it used to be.”

  Captain Walls was asking Ricky earnestly, “You’re quite sure your formula will cure my son? All these years, I’ve hoped and prayed—”

  “I’m certain,” Ricky smiled. “Within a few weeks after we get back to Earth, gravitation-paralysis will be a thing of the past.”

  They moved off with the others. But Gloria lingered in the bridge with Kenniston.

  “Where will you be going, after we get back?” she asked him quietly.

  “Oh, back to space,” he answered, a little uncomfortably. “There’s nothing to hold me on Earth now that Ricky’s work has succeeded.”

  “Nothing to hold you on Earth?” Gloria repeated. “That, I would say, is about the most ungallant speech on record.”

  He flushed. “You don’t mean—that night on the Sunsprite—you weren’t in earnest, surely—”

  “Your passionate proposal is accepted,” Gloria said calmly.

  Kenniston was aghast. “But I didn’t propose! I mean—I do love you, and you know it, but you’re an heiress, and I—”

  “We’ll have all the way back to Mars to argue that out,” she told him. “And I have an idea you’ll lose.”

  Kenniston had the same idea.

  THE SKYLARK OF SPACE, by E.E. “Doc” Smith [Part 1]

  Written in collaboration with Lee Hawking Garby.

  CHAPTER I

  The Occurrence of the Impossible

  Petrified with astonishment, Richard Seaton stared after the copper steam-bath upon which he had been electrolyzing his solution of “X,” the unknown metal. For as soon as he had removed the beaker the heavy bath had jumped endwise from under his hand as though it were alive. It had flown with terrific speed over the table, smashing apparatus and bottles of chemicals on its way, and was even now disappearing through the open window. He seized his prism binoculars and focused them upon the flying vessel, a speck in the distance. Through the glass he saw that it did not fall to the ground, but continued on in a straight line, only its rapidly diminishing size showing the enormous velocity with which it was moving. It grew smaller and smaller, and in a few moments disappeared utterly.

  The chemist turned as though in a trance. How was this? The copper bath he had used for months was gone—gone like a shot, with nothing to make it go. Nothing, that is, except an electric cell and a few drops of the unknown solution. He looked at the empty space where it had stood, at the broken glass covering his laboratory table, and again stared out of the window.

  He was aroused from his stunned inaction by the entrance of his colored laboratory helper, and silently motioned him to clean up the wreckage.

  “What’s happened, Doctah?” asked the dusky assistant.

  “Search me, Dan. I wish I knew, myself,” responded Seaton, absently, lost in wonder at the incredible phenomenon of which he had just been a witness.

  Ferdinand Scott, a chemist employed in the next room, entered breezily.

  “Hello, Dicky, thought I heard a racket in here,” the newcomer remarked. Then he saw the helper busily mopping up the reeking mass of chemicals.

  “Great balls of fire!” he exclaimed. “What’ve you been celebrating? Had an explosion? How, what, and why?”

  “I can tell you the ‘what,’ and part of the ‘how’,” Seaton replied thoughtfully, “but as to the ‘why,’ I am completely in the dark. Here’s all I know about it,” and in a few words he related the foregoing incident. Scott’s face showed in turn interest, amazement, and pitying alarm. He took Seaton by the arm.

  “Dick, old top, I never knew you to drink or dope, but this stuff sure came out of either a bottle or a needle. Did you see a pink serpent carrying it away? Take my advice, old son, if you want to stay in Uncle Sam’s service, and lay off the stuff, whatever it is. It’s bad enough to come down here so far gone that you wreck most of your apparatus and lose the rest of it, but to pull a yarn like that is going too far. The Chief will have to ask for your resignation, sure. Why don’t you take a couple of days of your leave and straighten up?”

  Seaton paid no attention to him, and Scott returned to his own laboratory, shaking his head sadly.

  Seaton, with his mind in a whirl, walked slowly to his desk, picked up his blackened and battered briar pipe, and sat down to study out what he had done, or what could possibly have happened, to result in such an unbelievable infraction of all the laws of mechanics and gravitation. He knew that he was sober and sane, that the thing had actually happened. But why? And how? All his scientific training told him that it was impossible. It was unthinkable that an inert mass of metal should fly off into space without any applied force. Since it had actually happened, there must have been applied an enormous and hitherto unknown force. What was that force? The reason
for this unbelievable manifestation of energy was certainly somewhere in the solution, the electrolytic cell, or the steam-bath. Concentrating all the power of his highly-trained analytical mind upon the problem—deaf and blind to everything else, as was his wont when deeply interested—he sat motionless, with his forgotten pipe clenched between his teeth. Hour after hour he sat there, while most of his fellow-chemists finished the day’s work and left the building and the room slowly darkened with the coming of night.

  Finally he jumped up. Crashing his hand down upon the desk, he exclaimed:

  “I have liberated the intra-atomic energy of copper! Copper, ‘X,’ and electric current!

  “I’m sure a fool for luck!” he continued as a new thought struck him. “Suppose it had been liberated all at once? Probably blown the whole world off its hinges. But it wasn’t: it was given off slowly and in a straight line. Wonder why? Talk about power! Infinite! Believe me, I’ll show this whole Bureau of Chemistry something to make their eyes stick out, tomorrow. If they won’t let me go ahead and develop it, I’ll resign, hunt up some more ‘X’, and do it myself. That bath is on its way to the moon right now, and there’s no reason why I can’t follow it. Martin’s such a fanatic on exploration, he’ll fall all over himself to build us any kind of a craft we’ll need…we’ll explore the whole solar system! Great Cat, what a chance! A fool for luck is right!”

  He came to himself with a start. He switched on the lights and saw that it was ten o’clock. Simultaneously he recalled that he was to have had dinner with his fiancée at her home, their first dinner since their engagement. Cursing himself for an idiot he hastily left the building, and soon his motorcycle was tearing up Connecticut Avenue toward his sweetheart’s home.

  CHAPTER II

  Steel Becomes Interested

  Dr. Marc DuQuesne was in his laboratory, engaged in a research upon certain of the rare metals, particularly in regard to their electrochemical properties. He was a striking figure. Well over six feet tall, unusually broad-shouldered even for his height, he was plainly a man of enormous physical strength. His thick, slightly wavy hair was black. His eyes, only a trifle lighter in shade, were surmounted by heavy black eyebrows which grew together above his aquiline nose.