E.E. 'Doc' Smith SF Gateway Omnibus: The Skylark of Space, Skylark Three, Skylark of Valeron, Skylark DuQuesne

by E. E. 'Doc' Smith

  ‘That’s all. Thanks.

  ‘You see?’ Brookings said, when they were again alone. ‘Chambers is a good man, too, and he says it’s impossible.’

  ‘As far as he knows, he’s right. I’d have said the same thing this morning. However, it has just been done.’

  ‘How?’

  DuQuesne repeated certain parts of Seaton’s story.

  ‘But suppose the man is crazy? He could be, couldn’t he?’

  ‘Yeah, he’s crazy – like a fox. If it were only Seaton, I might buy that; but nobody ever thought M. Reynolds Crane had any loose screws. With him backing Seaton you can bet your last dollar that Seaton showed him plenty of real stuff.’ As a look of conviction appeared upon Brookings’ face DuQuesne went on. ‘Don’t you understand? The solution was government property and he had to do something to make everybody think it was worthless, so he could get title to it. It was a bold move – it would have been foolhardy in anyone else. The reason he got away with it is that he’s always been an open-faced talker, always telling everything he knows. He fooled me completely, and I’m not usually asleep out of bed.’

  ‘What is your idea? Where do we come in?’

  ‘You come in by getting that solution away from Seaton and Crane, and furnishing the money to develop the stuff and to build, under my direction, such a power plant as the world never saw before.’

  ‘Why is it necessary to get that particular solution? Why not refine some more platinum wastes?’

  ‘Not a chance. Chemists have been recovering platinum for a hundred years, and nothing like that was ever found before. The stuff, whatever it is, must have been present in some particular lot of platinum. They haven’t got all of it there is in the world, of course, but the chance of finding any without knowing exactly what to look for is extremely slight. Besides, we must have a monopoly on it – Crane would be satisfied with ten per cent net profit. No, we’ve got to get every milliliter of that solution and we’ve got to kill Seaton – he knows too much. I want to take a couple of your goons and attend to it tonight.’

  Brookings thought for a moment, his face blandly empty of expression. Then he spoke.

  ‘I’m sorry, doctor, but we can’t do it. It’s too flagrant, too risky. Besides, we can afford to buy it from Seaton if, as, and when he proves it is worth anything.’

  ‘Bah!’ DuQuesne snorted. ‘Who do you think you’re kidding? Do you think I told you enough so that you can sidetrack me out of the deal? Get that idea out of your head – fast. There are only two men in the world who can handle it – R. B. Seaton and M. C. DuQuesne. Take your pick. Put anybody else on it – anybody else – and he’ll blow himself and his whole neighborhood out beyond the orbit of Mars.’

  Brookings, caught flat-footed and half convinced of the truth of DuQuesne’s statements, still temporized.

  ‘You’re very modest, DuQuesne.’

  ‘Modesty gets a man praise, but I prefer cash. However, you ought to know by this time that what I say is true. And I’m in a hurry. The difficulty of getting hold of that solution is growing greater every minute and my price is rising every minute.’

  ‘What is your price at the present minute?’

  ‘Ten thousand dollars a month during development, five million cash when the first plant goes onto the line, and ten per cent of the net – on all plants – thereafter.’

  ‘Oh, come, doctor, let’s be sensible. You don’t mean that.’

  ‘I don’t say anything I don’t mean. I’ve done a lot of dirty work for you people and never got much of anything out of it – I couldn’t force you without exposing myself. But this time I’ve got you where the hair’s short and I’m going to collect. And you still can’t kill me – I’m not Ainsworth. Not only because you’ll have to have me, but because it’d still send all you big shots clear down to Perkins, to the chair, or up the river for life.’

  ‘Please, DuQuesne, please don’t use such language!’

  ‘Why not?’ DuQuesne’s voice was cold and level. ‘What do a few lives amount to, as long as they’re not yours or mine? I can trust you, more or less, and you can trust me the same, because you know I can’t send you up without going with you. If that’s the way you want it, I’ll let you try it without me – you won’t get far. So decide, right now, whether you want me now, or later. If it’s later, the first two of those figures I gave you will be doubled.’

  ‘We can’t do business on any such terms.’ Brookings shook his head. ‘We can buy the power rights from Seaton for less.’

  ‘You want it the hard way, eh?’ DuQuesne sneered as he came to his feet. ‘Go ahead. Steal the solution. But don’t give your man much of it, not more than half a teaspoonful – I want as much as possible of it left. Set up the laboratory a hundred miles from anywhere – not that I give a damn how many people you kill, but I don’t want to go along – and caution whoever does the work to use very small quantities of copper. Goodbye.’

  As the door closed behind the cynical scientist, Brookings took a small instrument, very like a watch, from his pocket, touched a button, raised it to his lips, and spoke. ‘Perkins.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘M. Reynolds Crane has in or around his house somewhere a small bottle of solution.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Can you describe it?’

  ‘Not exactly.’ Brookings went on to tell his minion all he knew about the matter. ‘If the bottle were only partly emptied and filled up with water, I don’t believe anybody would notice the difference’

  ‘Probably not, sir. Goodbye.’

  Brookings then took his personal typewriter out of a drawer and typed busily for a few minutes. Among other things, he wrote:

  ‘… and do not work on too much copper at once. I gather that an ounce or two should be enough …’

  VI

  From daylight until late in the evening Seaton worked in the shop, sometimes supervising expert mechanics, sometimes working alone. Every night when Crane went to bed he saw Seaton in his room in a cloud of smoke, poring over blueprints or seated at the computer, making interminable calculations. Deaf to Crane’s remonstrances, he was driving himself at an inhuman rate, completely absorbed in his project. While he did not forget Dorothy, he had a terrific lot to do and none of it was getting done. He was going to see her just as soon as he was over this hump, he insisted; but every hump was followed by another, higher and worse. And day after day went by.

  Meanwhile, Dorothy was feeling considerably glum. Here was her engagement only a week old – and what an engagement! Before that enchanted evening he had been an almost daily visitor. They had ridden and talked and played together, and he had forced his impetuous way into all her plans. Now, after she had promised to marry him, he had called once – at eleven o’clock – with his mind completely out of this world, and she hadn’t even heard from him for six long days. A queer happening at the laboratory seemed scant excuse for such long-continued neglect, and she knew no other.

  Puzzled and hurt, her mother’s solicitous looks unbearable, she left the house for a long, aimless walk. She paid no attention to the spring beauty around her. She did not even notice footsteps following her, and was too deeply engrossed in her own somber thoughts to be more than mildly surprised when Martin Crane spoke to her. For a while she tried to rouse herself into animation, but her usual ease had deserted her and her false gaiety did not deceive the keen-minded Crane. Soon they were walking along together in silence, a silence finally broken by the man.

  ‘I have just left Seaton,’ he said. Paying no attention to her startled glance, he went on, ‘Did you ever see anyone else with his singleness of purpose? Of course, though, that is one of the traits that make him what he is … He is working himself into a breakdown. Has he told you about leaving the Rare Metals Laboratory?’

  ‘No, I haven’t seen him since the night the accident, or discovery, or whatever it was, happened. He tried to explain it to me then, but what little I could understand of what he said sounded simply pr
eposterous.’

  ‘I can’t explain the thing to you – Dick himself can’t explain it to me – but I can give you an idea of what we both think it may come to.’

  ‘I wish you would. I’ll be mighty glad to hear it.’

  ‘Dick discovered something that converts copper into pure energy. That water-bath took off in a straight line—’

  ‘That still sounds preposterous, Martin,’ the girl interrupted, ‘even when you say it.’

  ‘Careful, Dorothy,’ he cautioned her. ‘Nothing that actually happens is or can be preposterous. But as I said, this copper bath left Washington in a straight line for scenes unknown. We intend to follow it in a suitable vehicle.’

  He paused, looking at his companion’s face. She did not speak, and he went on in his matter-of-fact tone.

  ‘Building the spaceship is where I come in. As you know, I have almost as much money as Dick has brains; and some day, before the summer is over, we expect to go somewhere … some place a considerable distance from this earth.’

  Then, after enjoining strict secrecy, he told her what he had seen in the laboratory and described the present state of affairs.

  ‘But if he thought of all that … was brilliant enough to work out such a theory and to actually plan such an unheard-of thing as space-travel … all on such a slight foundation of fact … why couldn’t he have told me?’

  ‘He fully intended to. He still intends to. Don’t believe for a moment that his absorption implies any lack of love for you. I was coming to visit you about that when I saw you out here. He’s driving himself unmercifully. He eats hardly anything and doesn’t seem to sleep at all. He has to take it easy or break down, but nothing I can say has had any effect. Can you think of anything you, or you and I together, can do?’

  Dorothy still walked along, but it was a different Dorothy. She was erect and springy, her eyes sparkled, all her charm and vitality were back in force.

  ‘I’ll say I can!’ she breathed. ‘I’ll stuff him to the ears and put him to sleep right after dinner, the big dope!’

  This time it was Crane who was surprised, so surprised that he stopped, practically in mid-stride. ‘How?’ he demanded. ‘You talk about something being preposterous – how?’

  ‘Maybe you hadn’t better know the gory details.’ She grinned impishly. ‘You lack quite a bit, Marty, of being the world’s best actor, and Dick mustn’t be warned. Just run along home, and be sure you’re there when I get there. I’ve got to do some phoning … I’ll be there at six o’clock, and tell Shiro not to make you two any dinner.’

  She was there at six o’clock.

  ‘Where is he, Marty? Out in the shop?’

  ‘Yes.’

  In the shop, she strode purposefully toward Seaton’s oblivious back. ‘Hi, Dick. How’s it coming?’

  ‘Huh?’ He started violently, almost jumping off his stool – then did jump off it as the knowledge filtered through that it was really Dorothy who was standing at his back. He swept her off her feet in the intensity of his embrace; she pressed her every inch tighter and tighter against his rock-hard body. Their lips met and clung.

  Dorothy finally released herself enough to look into his eyes. ‘I was so mad, Dick. I simply didn’t know whether to kiss you or kill you, but I decided to kiss you – this time.’

  ‘I know, sweetheart. I’ve been trying my level best to get a couple of hours to come over and see you, but everything’s been going so slow – my head’s so thick it takes a thousand years for an idea to percolate—’

  ‘Hush! I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this last week, especially today. I love you as you are. I can either do that or give you up. I can’t even imagine giving you up, because I know I’d cold-bloodedly strangle with her own hair any woman who ever cocked an eye at you … Come on, Dick, no more work tonight. I’m taking you and Martin home for dinner.’ Then, as his eyes strayed involuntarily back toward the computer, she said, more forcefully, ‘I – said– no – more – work – tonight. Do you want to fight about it?’

  ‘Uh-uh! I’ll say I don’t – I wasn’t even thinking of working!’ Seaton was panic-stricken. ‘No fights, Dottie. Not with you. Ever. About anything. Believe me.’

  ‘I do, lover,’ and, arms around each other, they strolled unhurriedly up to and into the house.

  Crane accepted enthusiastically – for him – the invitation to dinner, and was going to dress, but Dorothy would not have it. ‘Strictly informal,’ she insisted. ‘Just as you are.’ ‘I’ll wash up, then, and be with you in a sec,’ Seaton said, and left the room. Dorothy turned to Crane.

  ‘I’ve got a tremendous favor to ask of you, Martin. I drove the Cad – it’s air-conditioned, you know – could you possibly bring your Stradivarius along? My best violin would do, I’m sure, but I’d rather have the heaviest artillery I can get.’

  ‘I see – at last.’ Crane’s face lit up. ‘Certainly. Play it outdoors in the rain, if necessary. Masterful strategy, Dorothy – masterful.’

  ‘Well, one does what one can,’ Dorothy murmured in mock modesty. Then, as Seaton appeared, she said, ‘Let’s go, boys. Dinner is served at seven-thirty sharp, and we’re going to be there right on the chime.’

  As they sat down at the table Dorothy studied again the changes that six days had made in Seaton. His face was pale and thin, almost haggard. Lines had appeared at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth, and faint but unmistakable blue rings encircled his eyes.

  ‘You’ve been going altogether too hard, Dick. You’ve got to cut down.’

  ‘Oh no, I’m all right. I never felt better. I could whip a rattlesnake and give him the first bite!’

  She laughed, but the look of concern did not leave her face.

  During the meal no mention was made of the project, the conversation being deftly held to tennis, swimming, and other sports; and Seaton, whose plate was unobtrusively kept full, ate such a dinner as he had not eaten for weeks. After dessert they all went into the living room and ensconced themselves in comfortable chairs. The men smoked; all five continued their conversation.

  After a time three left the room, Vaneman took Crane into his study to show him a rare folio; Mrs Vaneman went upstairs, remarking plaintively that she had to finish writing that article, and if she put it off much longer she’d never get it done.

  Dorothy said, ‘I skipped practice today, Dick, on account of traipsing out there after you two geniuses. Could you stand it to have me play at you for half an hour?’

  ‘Don’t fish, Dottie Dimple. You know there’s nothing I’d like better. But if you want me to beg you I’d be glad to. Please – PUH-LEEZE – oh fair and musicianly damsel, fill ye circumambient atmosphere with thy tuneful notes.’

  ‘Wilco. Roger,’ she snickered. ‘Over and out.’

  She took up a violin – Crane’s violin – and played. First his favorites; crashing selections from operas and solos by the great masters, abounding in harmonies on two strings. Then she slowly changed her playing to softer, simpler melodies, then to old, old songs. Seaton, listening with profound enjoyment, relaxed more and more. Pipe finished and hands at rest, his eyes closed of themselves and he lay back at ease. The music changed again, gradually, to reveries; each one softer, slower, dreamier than the last. Then to sheer, crooning lullabies; and it was in these that magnificent instrument and consummate artist combined to show their true qualities at their very best.

  Dorothy diminuendoed the final note into silence and stood there, bow poised, ready to resume; but there was no need. Freed from the tyranny of the brain that had been driving it so unmercifully, Seaton’s body had begun to make up for many hours of lost sleep.

  Assured that he was really asleep, Dorothy tiptoed to the door of the study and whispered, ‘He’s asleep in his chair.’

  ‘I believe that,’ her father smiled. ‘That last one was like a bottle of veronal – it was all Crane and I could do to keep each other awake. You’re a smart girl.’

  ‘She is a mus
ician,’ Crane said. ‘What a musician!’

  ‘Partly me, of course, but – what a violin! But what’ll we do with him? Let him sleep there?’

  ‘No, he’d be more comfortable on the couch. I’ll get a couple of blankets,’ Vaneman said.

  He did so and the three went into the living room together. Seaton lay motionless, only the lifting and falling of his powerful chest showing that he was alive.

  ‘You take his …’

  ‘Sh … Sh!’ Dorothy whispered, intensely. ‘You’ll wake him up, dad.’

  ‘Bosh! You couldn’t wake him up now with a club. You take his head and shoulders, Crane – heave-ho!’

  With Dorothy anxiously watching the proceedings and trying to help, the two men picked Seaton up out of the chair and carried him across the room to the couch. They removed his outer clothing; the girl arranged pillows and tucked blankets around him; then touched her lips lightly to his. ‘Goodnight, sweetheart,’ she whispered.

  His lips responded faintly to her caress, and, ‘… dnigh …’ he murmured in his sleep.

  It was three o’clock in the afternoon when Seaton, looking vastly better, came into the shop. When Crane saw him and called out a greeting, he returned it with a sheepish grin.

  ‘Don’t say a word, Martin; I’m thinking it all, and then some. I never felt so cheap in my life as when I woke up on the Vanemans’ couch this noon – where you helped put me, no doubt.’

  ‘No doubt at all,’ Crane agreed, cheerfully, ‘and listen to this. More of the same, or worse, if you keep on going as you were.’

  ‘Don’t rub it in – can’t you see I’m flat on my back with all four paws in the air? I’ll be good. I’m going to bed at eleven every night and I’m going to see Dottie every other evening and all day Sunday.’

  ‘Very fine, if true – and it had better be true.’

  ‘It will, so help me. Well, while I was eating breakfast this morning – this afternoon, rather – I saw that missing factor in the theory. And don’t tell me it was because I was rested up and fresh, either – I know it.’