The Space Opera Megapack

by John W. Campbell

  “And you know, Devin, how I have analyzed and duplicated their magnetic ball-fields. This should be capable of formation into a ball-field.

  “We need only make it up now. We will install it in the ‘S Doradus’ and the ‘Cepheid’ as a weapon. We need only install it as an energy source here. Let us start.”

  XII

  Buck Kendall with a slow smile, looked out of the port in the thick metal wall. The magnetic shield of the Lunar Fort was washed constantly with the fires of exploding magnetic bombs. The smile spread broader. “My friends,” he said softly, “you can pull from now till doomsday as far as I’m concerned, and you won’t even disturb us now.” He looked back over his shoulder into the power room. A hunched bulk, beautifully designed and carefully finished, the apparatus that created ‘Uncertainty of the Fourth Degree’ was destroying matter, and creating by its destruction terrific electric fields. These fields were feeding the magnetic shield now. Under the present drain, the machine was not noticeably working. In fact, Kendall was a bit annoyed. He had tested out the energy generating properties of this machine, trying to find a limit. He had found there was no limit. The great copper conductors, charged with the same atostor force that was used in the mercury fuel, were perfect conductors, they had not heated. But the eleven thousand tons of discharged mercury metal had been completely charged in just a bit better than eleven minutes. The pumps wouldn’t force it through the charging apparatus any faster than that.

  Two weeks more had passed, while the “S Doradus” and the “Cepheid” were fitted out with the new apparatus Buck had designed. They were almost ready to start now.

  McLaurin came down the corridor, and stopped near Kendall. He too smiled at the Miran’s attempts. “They’ve got a long way to go, Buck.”

  “They’re going a long way. Clear back home—and we’ll be right along. I don’t think they can outdistance us.”

  “I still don’t see why you couldn’t use one of those Uncertainty conditions—the First Degree perhaps, and annihilate our inertia.”

  “You can’t control Uncertainty. By its essential character it’s beyond control.”

  “What’s that Fourth Degree machine of yours—the material energy—if it isn’t controlled and utilized Uncertainty?”

  “It’s utter and utterly uncontrolled Uncertainty. The matter within that field breaks down to absolutely nothing. Within, no law whatsoever applies, but fortunately, outside the old laws of physics apply—and we can gather and use the energy which is released outside, though nothing can be done inside. Why, think, man, if I could control that Uncertainty, I could do anything at all, absolutely anything. It would be a world as unreasonable as a bad dream. Think how unreasonable those manifestations we first got were!”

  “But can’t you get any control at all?”

  “Very little. Anyway, if I could get inertialess conditions at will, I’d be afraid of them. They’d make chemical reactions impossible in all probability—and life is chemical. Two atoms must come into more or less violent contact before a union takes place, and cannot if they have neither momentum nor inertia.

  “Anyway—why worry. I can’t do it, because I can’t control this thing. And we have the extra-space drive.”

  “How does that darned thing work? Can’t you drop the math and tell me about it?”

  Kendall smiled. “Not too readily. Remember first, as to the driving system, that it works on the fabric of space. Space is, in the physical sense, a fabric woven of the threads of lines of force from every body in the universe, made up of fields and forces. It is elastic, and can transmit strains. But anything that can transmit strains, can be strained against. With the tremendous field intensities available by the material engines, I can get such fields as will ‘dig their toes’ into space and push.

  “That’s the drive itself. It is accelerationless, because it enfolds us, and acts equally on every atom of us. By maintaining in addition a slight artificial gravity—thanks also to the intensity of those material engine fields—we can be comfortable, while we accelerate at tremendous rates.

  “That is, I think, at least allied to the Stranger’s system. For the high-speed drive, I do in fact use the Uncertainty. I can control it in a certain sense by determining its powers, and the limits of uncertainty, whether First, Second, Third or Fourth Degree. It advances in jumps—but on a finer plotting of the curve, you can see that each jump represents a vast series of smaller jumps. That is, there is Class A, B, C, D, and so forth Uncertainty of the First Degree. Now Class A First Degree Uncertainty involves only the deepest, broadest principles. Only they break down. One of these is the law of the speed of light.

  “I’m sure that isn’t the system the Strangers use, but I’m also sure there’s no limit to the speed we can get.”

  “Doesn’t that wreck your drive system?”

  “No, because gravity and the fields I use in driving are First Degree Uncertainties of the higher classes.

  “But at any rate, it will work. And—I suspect you came to say you were ready to go.”

  “I did.” McLaurin nodded.

  “Still stick to your original plan?”

  McLaurin nodded. “I think it’s best. You follow those fellows back to their system in the ‘S Doradus’ and I’ll stay here in the ‘Cepheid’ to protect the system. They may need some time to get out of the place here. And remember, we ought to be as decent as they were. They didn’t bother the transports leaving Jupiter when they came in, only attacked the warships. We’re bound to do the same, but we’ll have to keep a watch on them, nonetheless. So you go on ahead.”

  They started down the corridor, and came presently to the huge locks where the “S Doradus” and the “Cepheid” were berthed. The super-ships lay cold and gray now, men swarming in and out with last-minute supplies. Air, water, spare parts, bedding and personal equipment. Douglass, Cole, and most of the laboratory staff would go with Kendall when he followed the Strangers home. Devin and a few of the most advanced physicists would stay with McLaurin in case of need.

  * * * *

  An hour later the “S Doradus” rose gently, soundlessly from her berth, and floated out of the open lock-door. The “Cepheid” followed her in five seconds. Still under the great screen of the fort, the lashing, coruscating colors of the magnetic bombs and the magnetic screen flashed and was iridescent. The “S Doradus” poked her great nose gently through the screen, and an instant later her titanically powerful, material-engine effortlessly discharged a great magnetic bomb, sent with the combined power of five atomic-powered interstellar ships. The two ships separated now, the “Cepheid” under McLaurin flashing ahead with sudden, terrific acceleration toward Mars, whispering through space at a speed that made it undetectable, faster than light. The “S Doradus” journeyed out leisurely toward the fleet of forty-seven Miran ships.

  Gresth Gkae saw the “S Doradus” and as he watched the steady progress, felt sudden fear at his heart. The ship seemed so certain—

  At a distance of thirty thousand miles, Kendall stopped. Magnetic bombs were washing his screen continuously now, seeking to exhaust the ship as all the great ships beyond poured their energy against it. A slow smile spread over Kendall’s mouth as he heard the gentle hum of the barely working material-engine. Carefully he aligned the nose UV beam of the “S Doradus” on the nearest of the Miran ships. Then he depressed a switch.

  There was no ion-release before the force-mirror now. Just a jet of gas whirling into a half-inch field of “Uncertainty of the Fourth Degree.” The matter vanished instantly in released energy so stupendous that the greatest previous UV beams had been harmless things by comparison. Material energy maintained the mirror forces. Material energy gave the power that was released. And only material energy could have stood up before it. Thirty thousand miles away, a Miran ship flamed instantaneously into inconceivable incandescence, vanishing almost in blue-violet light of terrific intensity. The ship reeled away, a half-molten wreck.

  The beam
spotted two more ships before it winked out. Then Kendall began sending bombs. He moved up to within 2000 miles that his aim might be accurate. They were bombs of “Uncertainty of the Third Degree,” the Uncertainty of atomic law in bomb form. One hit the nose of the nearest ship, and a sphere five feet in diameter glowed mistily blue for a moment. Then very easily, the matter that formed the wall of the cruiser began to run and change, and presently there was only a hole, and an expanding cloud of gas. Three more flowed toward it—and the hole enlarged, and another hole appeared in a bulkhead behind.

  Kendall made a change. For the first time there came the staccato bark of the material engine under strain, as it fashioned the terrific fields of “Uncertainty of the Ultimate Degree.” Abruptly they leapt out, invisible till they entered a magnetic screen, then run over with opalescent light as the energy of the field was sucked into them and released.

  It struck the nose of a ship—a field no larger than an apple—

  A titanic gout of energy burst out that was soundless in space. The ship suddenly opened back, opened like the peel of a banana, till a little nub remained at the further end, and the metal flaps dropped back across and behind it dejectedly. A second ship was struck, and it was struck on one side, so that it was shattered like a spent firecracker.

  Then the Miran fleet vanished in speed.

  Kendall followed them. “I think,” he said with a grin, “they tried to use their radio beam, but it spread too much to do anything at that distance. And they used their rotating magnetic field, which we couldn’t feel. And their crumbler ray too, of course. I wonder—are they headed only for Jupiter? No—no, they’ve passed it!”

  Faster than light, faster than energy could follow through space, or Uncertainty Bombs pursue, the Mirans were fleeing for home. They knew now that only in speed lay safety. Already they knew that a similar ship had appeared off Jupiter, and, after wiping out the Phobos and Mars stations with one bomb each, had cleared the Jovian Satellites with equal terrible efficiency.

  In one of the fleeing ships was a broken, tired old man, and his staff. Gresth Gkae looked back at the blank, distorted space behind them, at the swiftly dwindling sun, and spoke. “I was at fault, my friends. Jarth has spoken. They are the stronger and the wiser race. Farth Skalt has shown you—they use space fields of intensity 100. That means the energy of the ultimate destruction. Jarth used us as his instrument of testing, only to drive and stimulate that race. I do not—nay. There is no doubt now, for look.”

  Plainly visible, rapidly overtaking them, the “S Doradus” appeared sharp, and luminous on the jet of distorted space.

  “We cannot escape, my friends. Shall we return to Sthor or remain in space, lost?”

  “Let us deflect our course—at least he may not know our destination.” The interstellar ship turned very slightly in her course. Plainly they saw the “S Doradus” flash on, in a straight line, headed for distant, red-glowing Mira. Gresth Gkae watched, and shrugged. Silently he put the ship back on its course, at its utmost speed. Parallel with them, near to them, the “S Doradus” flashed on. Day after day, the two hurled through space faster than light. Gradually Mira brightened, and at last became a disc.

  * * * *

  Gresth Gkae slowed his ships, and Kendall, watching, slowed to match his speed. Five billion miles from Sthor, they had reached normal space speeds. Viciously the Miran fleet attacked the lone ship from Earth. Their rays, their bombs, their every weapon was flaming. Great interstellar ships flashed suddenly into speeds greater than that of light, seeking to ram and destroy the smaller ship. The “S Doradus” flashed into equal or greater speed, and eluded them.

  Kendall had determined now, which was the leader’s ship.

  Gresth Gkae watched dully as his ships attempted to destroy the single, small ship. He sighed in resignation, and turned to walk back to the chapel aboard the ship. One last prayer to Jarth—

  Gresth Gkae stopped abruptly. The great ship was lurching strangely. Men shouted sudden, frightened cries. The clanking and thud of relays sounded, the shrill of alarms. Then the alarms stopped, and suddenly the whole great ship vibrated to an infinitely deep voice speaking in perfect Sthorian. The voice remarked solemnly, in great, vibrant tones, that they would certainly receive news presently from the Expeditions. It went on for some seconds to discuss the conditions as reported in the new system. Then it stopped abruptly. An electric motor just above Gresth Gkae’s head suddenly hummed into action without reason or power connection. Almost simultaneously he heard the shouts of startled men as the great lock doors began to open into space of their own accord, bulkhead doors slipped shut as the roar of escaping air echoed in the ship.

  Then it was all over. Gresth Gkae ran to the control room. The Mirans there looked up at him with drawn faces.

  “The instruments—Gresth Gkae—the instruments. The instruments read impossible things, the motors worked without reason, the fields fluctuated—the atomic engines stopped and the magnetic shield broke down and gripped part of the ship instead!” reported the bewildered pilot.

  “I do not know—some strange weapon of—” began the old scientist. Something luminous and huge twisted suddenly through space toward them, a bomb of “Uncertainty of the First Degree.” It wrapped the ship silently—and again strange things happened. Abruptly the ship started whirling violently, yet without centrifugal force. The heavens wheeled crazily, and turned about three axes simultaneously. There was no gyroscopic effect to hold them!

  Gradually the thing died out. Then a great field seemed to catch the ship, and hurl it away from its companions. Abruptly the pilot applied all his power to pull free. In vain.

  Gresth Gkae shook his head slowly, and raised the pilot’s hands from the board. “Let them do as they will. I think they mean us no real harm, Thart Kralt. They can, we know, destroy us in an instant. Perhaps he wants us to go somewhere with him”—Gresth Gkae smiled sadly—“and anyway, we can do nothing.”

  For nearly a billion miles the great ship was hurled through space at tremendous normal-space velocity. Then abruptly it was halted, without a sign of strain or hurt. The great twenty-foot UV beam on the nose of the “S Doradus” broke into glowing gentle red light. It flashed twice. There was a pause. Then it flashed four times. A long wait. Then three times, a pause and nine times. A wait. Four times, a pause, sixteen times. Then it stopped.

  A slow smile of ineffable joy spread over Gresth Gkae’s face. “Jarth Be Praised. He can destroy, but does not wish to. Ah, Thart Kralt, turn your spotlight toward him, and flash it twenty-five times, for he is trying to start communications with us. Jarth is wise beyond all understanding. They were the weaker race, and they are the stronger. But also they are the better, for they could destroy, and they do not, but seek only to communicate.”

  EPILOGUE

  The interstellar liner “Mirasol” settled gently to Sthor, having circled wide of Asthor, and from her hold a cargo of the heavy Jovian elements was discharged, while a mixed stream of Solarians and Mirans came from her passenger quarters.

  A delegation of Mirans met the new Ambassador from Sol, Commander McLaurin, and conducted him joyfully to the Central Government Group. Beside the great buildings, a battered, scarred interstellar ship lay, her rear section a mass of great patches, rudely applied, and rudely made, mere cast metal plates.

  Gresth Gkae welcomed Commander McLaurin to the Government Hall. “Your arrival today, Commander McLaurin, was most fortunate,” he said in the interstellar language that had been developed, “for but yesterday Gresth Talak, my brother, arrived in his ship. Before we made that fortunate-unfortunate expedition against your system, we waited for him, and he did not come, so we knew his ship had, like others, been lost.

  “He arrived only yesterday, some seventy hours ago, and explained how it had come about. He too found a solar system. But he was less fortunate than I, and while exploring this uninhabited system, far out still from the central sun, where there should have been no masses of mat
ter, one of those rare things, a giant stony meteor that even a magnetic shield will not stop careened into the rear of his ship. Damaged badly, barely able to move, they settled to a planet. The atmosphere was breathable, the temperature mild. But while they could navigate planetary distances, they could not return, so for nearly four and a half of your years they remained there, working, working to repair their ship.

  “They have done it at last. And they have returned. And best of all, after a four-year stay there, they know all they need know about that system of eleven planets. It is compact as yours, with an ultra-light sun such as yours, and four of the planets are habitable. Together we can colonize that system! It is a system of stable heat and stable light. And it is small, yet large enough. And with the devices such as your new energy has permitted, we need never fear the stony meteors again.” Gresth Gkae smiled happily. “Still better—it is inhabited only by the lowest forms of life. It is too costly to both races when Jarth sees fit to stimulate them by throwing one against the other, despite the good things that may come later.”

  INVADERS FROM THE OUTER SUNS, by Frank Belknap Long, Jr.

  CHAPTER I

  Flight from Saturn

  James Ross leaned against a crystal pylon and fingered the conical holster of his subatomic blast pistol nervously. Invisible death stood by his side, and the very air he breathed was fraught with menace.

  The Saturnian relaxation terminal was small, crowded, and permeated with the odors of cheap dilitis syrup and rank tobaccos. The spaceship pilots who lounged there without in­signia on their begrimed and tattered uniforms were men of unsavory repu­tations. Two-thirds of them were blackguards, thieves, and murderers. The rest had displayed white feathers in the black, frigid gulfs between the planets.