Triplanetary

by E. E. Smith

  CHAPTER II

  In Roger's Planetoid

  In the hall Clio glanced around her wildly, her bosom heaving, eyesdarting here and there, seeking even the narrowest avenue of escape.Before she could act, however, her body was clamped inflexibly, asthough in a vise, and she struggled, motionless.

  "It is useless to attempt to escape, or to do anything except what Rogerwishes," the guide informed her somberly, snapping off the instrument inher hand and thus restoring to the thoroughly cowed girl her freedom ofmotion.

  "His lightest wish is law," she continued as they walked down a longcorridor. "The sooner you realize that you must do exactly as hepleases, in all things, the easier your life will be."

  "But I wouldn't _want_ to keep on living!" Clio declared, with a flashof spirit. "And I can _always_ die, you know."

  "You will find that you cannot," the passionless creature returned,monotonously. "If you do not yield, you will long and pray for death,but you will not die unless Roger wills it. I was like you once. I alsostruggled, and I became what I am now--whatever it is. Here is yourapartment. You will stay here until Roger gives further ordersconcerning you."

  The living automaton opened a door and stood silent and impassive, whileClio, staring at her in unutterable horror, shrank past her and into thesumptuously furnished suite. The door closed soundlessly and uttersilence descended as a pall. Not an ordinary silence, but theindescribable perfection of the absolute, complete absence of all sound.In that silence Clio stood motionless. Tense and rigid, hopeless,despairing, she stood there in that magnificent room, fighting an almostoverwhelming impulse to scream. Suddenly she heard the cold voice ofRoger, speaking from the empty air.

  "You are over-wrought, Miss Marsden. You can be of no use to yourself orto me in that condition. I command you to rest; and, to insure thatrest, you may pull that cord, which will establish about this room anether wall: a wall cutting off even this my voice...."

  The voice ceased as she pulled the cord savagely and threw herself upona divan in a torrent of gasping, strangling, but rebellious sobs. Thenagain came a voice, but not to her ears. Deep within her, pervadingevery bone and muscle, it made itself felt rather than heard.

  "Clio?" it asked. "Don't talk yet...."

  "Conway!" she gasped in relief, every fiber of her being thrilled intonew hope at the deep, well-remembered voice of Conway Costigan.

  "Keep still!" he snapped. "Don't act so happy! He may have a spy-ray onyou. He can't hear me, but he may be able to hear you. When he wastalking to you you must have noticed a sort of rough, sandpapery feelingunder that necklace I gave you? Since he's got an ether-wall around youthe beads are dead now. If you feel anything like that under thewrist-watch, breathe deeply, twice. If you don't feel anything there,it's safe for you to talk, as loud as you please.

  "I don't feel a thing, Conway!" she rejoiced. Tears forgotten, she washer old, buoyant self again. "So that wall _is_ real, after all? I onlyabout half believed it."

  "Don't trust it too much, because he can cut it off from the outside anytime he wants to. Remember what I told you: that necklace will warn youof any spy-ray in the ether, and the watch will detect anything belowthe level of the ether. It's dead now, of course, since our three phonesare direct-connected; I'm in touch with Bradley, too. Don't be tooscared; we've got a lot better chance that I thought we had."

  "What? You don't mean it!"

  "Absolutely. I'm beginning to think that maybe we've got something hedoesn't know exists--our ultra-wave. Of course I wasn't surprised whenhis searchers failed to find our instruments, but it never occurred tome that I might have a clear field to use them in! I can't quite believeit yet, but I haven't been able to find any indication that he can evendetect the bands we are using. I'm going to look around over there withmy spy-ray ... I'm looking at you now--feel it?"

  "Yes, the watch feels that way, now."

  "Fine! Not a sign of interference over here, either. I can't find atrace of ultra-wave--anything below ether-level, you know--anywhere inthe whole place. He's got so much stuff that we've never heard of that Isupposed of course he'd have ultra-wave, too; but if he hasn't, thatgives us the edge. Well, Bradley and I've got a lot of work to do....Wait a minute, I just had a thought. I'll be back in about a second."

  There was a brief pause, then the soundless, but clear voice went on:

  "Good hunting! That woman that gave you the blue willies isn'talive--she's full of the prettiest machinery and communicators you eversaw!"

  "Oh, Conway!" and the girl's voice broke in an engulfing wave ofthanksgiving and relief. "It was so unutterably horrible, thinking ofwhat must have happened to her and to others like her!"

  "He's running a colossal bluff, I think. He's good, all right, but helacks quite a lot of being omnipotent. But don't get too cocky, either.Plenty has happened to plenty of women here, and men too--and plenty mayhappen to us unless we put out a few jets. Keep a stiff upper lip, andif you want us, yell. 'Bye!"

  The silent voice ceased, the watch upon Clio's wrist again became anunobtrusive timepiece, and Costigan, in his solitary cell far below hertower room, turned his peculiarly goggled eyes toward other scenes. Inhis pockets his hands manipulated tiny controls, and through the lensesof those goggles Costigan's keen and highly-trained eyes studied everyconcealed detail of mechanism of the great globe, the while he plannedwhat must be done. Finally, he took off the goggles and spoke in a lowvoice to Bradley, confined in another windowless room across the hall.

  "I think I've got dope enough, Captain. I've found out where he put ourarmor and guns, and I've located all the main leads, controls, andgenerators. There are no ether-walls around us here, but every door isshielded, and there are guards outside our doors--one to each of us.They're robots, not men. That makes it harder, since they're undoubtedlyconnected direct to Roger's desk, and will give an alarm at the firsthint of abnormal performance. We can't do a thing until he leaves hisdesk. See that black panel, a little below the cord-switch to the rightof your door? That's the conduit cover. When I give you the word, tearthat off and you'll see one red wire in the cable. It feeds theshield-generator of your door. Break that wire and join me out in thehall. Sorry I had only one of these ultra-wave spies, but once we'retogether it won't be so bad. Here's what I thought we could do," and hewent over in detail the only course of action which his surveys hadshown to be possible.

  "There, he's left his desk!" Costigan exclaimed after the conversationhad continued for almost an hour. "Now as soon as we find out where he'sgoing, we'll start something ... he's going to see Clio, the swine! Thischanges things, Bradley!" His hard voice was a curse.

  "Somewhat!" blazed the captain. "I know how you two have been getting onall during the cruise. I'm with you, but what can we do?"

  "We'll do something," Costigan declared grimly. "If he makes a pass ather I'll get him if I have to blow this whole sphere out of space, withus in it!"

  "Don't do that, Conway." Clio's low voice, trembling but determined, wasfelt by both men and both gasped audibly: they had forgotten that therewere three instruments in the circuit. "If there's a chance for you toget away and do anything about fighting him, don't mind me. Maybe heonly wants to talk about the ransom, anyway."

  "He wouldn't talk ransom to _you_--he's going to talk something elseentirely," Costigan gritted; then his voice changed suddenly. "But say,maybe it's just as well this way. They didn't find our specials whenthey searched us, you know, and we're going to do plenty of damage rightsoon now. Roger probably isn't a fast worker--more the cat-and-mousetype, I'd say--and after we get started he'll have something on his mindbesides you. Think you can stall him off and keep him interested forabout fifteen minutes?"

  "I'm sure I can--I'll do _anything_ to help us, or you, get away fromthis horrible...." Her voice ceased as Roger broke the ether-wall of herapartment and walked toward the divan upon which she crouched inwide-eyed, helpless, trembling terror.

  "Get ready, Bradley!" Costigan directed tersely. "He's
left Clio'sether-wall off, so that any abnormal signals would be relayed to himfrom his desk--he knows that there's no chance of anyone disturbing himin _that_ room. But I'm holding my beam on that switch--it's as good aconductor as metal--so that the wall is on, full strength. No matterwhat we do now, he can't get a warning. I'll have to hold the beamexactly on the switch, though, so you'll have to do the dirty work. Tearout that red wire and kill those two guards. You know how to kill arobot, don't you?"

  "Yes--break his eye-lenses and his eardrums and he'll stop whatever he'sdoing and send out distress calls.... Got 'em both. Now what?"

  "Open my door--the shield switch is to the right."

  Costigan's door flew open and the Triplanetary captain leaped into theroom.

  "Now for our armor!" he cried.

  "Not yet!" snapped Costigan. He was standing rigid, goggled eyes staringimmovably at a spot upon the ceiling. "I can't move a millimeter untilyou've closed Clio's ether-wall switch. If I take this ray off it for asecond we're sunk. Five floors up, straight ahead down acorridor--fourth door on right. When you're at the switch you'll feel myray on your watch. Snap it up!"

  "Right!" and the captain leaped away at a pace to be equaled by few menof half his years.

  Soon he was back, and after Costigan had tested the ether-wall of the"bridal suite" to make sure that no warning signal from his desk or hisservants could reach Roger within it, the two officers hurried awaytoward the room in which their discarded space-armor had been stored.

  "Too bad they don't wear uniforms," panted Bradley, short of breath fromthe many flights of stairs. "Might have helped some as disguise."

  "I doubt it--with so many robots around, they've probably got signalsthat we couldn't understand, anyway. If we meet anybody it'll mean abattle. Hold it!" Peering through walls with his spy-ray, Costigan hadseen two men approaching, blocking an intersecting corridor into whichthey must turn. "Two of 'em, a man and a robot--the robot's on yourside. We'll wait here, right at the corner--when they round it, take'em!" And Costigan put away his goggles in readiness for strife.

  All unsuspecting, the two pirates came into view, and as they appearedthe two officers struck. Costigan, on the inside, drove a short, hardright low into the human pirate's abdomen. The fiercely driven fist sankto the wrist into the soft tissues and the stricken man collapsed. Buteven as the blow landed, Costigan had seen that there was a third enemy,following close behind the two he had been watching, a pirate who waseven then training a ray projector upon him. Reacting automatically,Costigan swung his unconscious opponent around in front of him, so thatit was into that insensible body that the vicious ray tore, and not intohis own. Crouching down into the smallest possible compass, hestraightened his powerful body with the lashing force of a mighty steelspring, hurling the corpse straight at the flaming mouth of theprojector. The weapon crashed to the floor and dead pirate and livingwent down in a heap. Upon that heap Costigan hurled himself, feeling forthe enemy's throat. But the pirate had wriggled clear, and counteredwith a gouging thrust that would have torn out the eyes of a slower man,following it up instantly with a savage kick for the groin. No automatonthis, geared and set to perform certain fixed duties with mechanicalprecision, but a lithe, strong man in hard training, fighting with everyfoul trick known to his murderous ilk.

  But Costigan was no tyro in the art of dirty fighting. Few indeed arethe maiming tricks of foul combat unknown to even the rank and file ofthe highly efficient Secret Service of the Triplanetary League; andCostigan, a Sector Chief of that unknown organization, knew them all.Not for pleasure, sportsmanship, nor million-dollar purses do thosesecret agents use Nature's weapons. They come to grips only when itcannot possibly be avoided, but when they are forced to fight in thatfashion they go into it with but one grim purpose--to kill, and to killin the shortest possible space of time. Thus it was that Costigan'sopening soon came. The pirate launched a particularly vicious kick, thedreaded "coup de sabot," which Costigan avoided by a lightning shift. Itwas a slight shift, barely enough to make the kicker miss, and twopowerful hands closed upon that flying foot in midair like the sprungjaws of a bear-trap. Closed and twisted viciously, in the same fleetinginstant. There was a shriek, smothered as a heavy boot crashed to itscarefully pre-determined mark: the pirate was out, definitely andpermanently.

  The struggle had lasted scarcely ten seconds, coming to its close justas Bradley finished blinding and deafening the robot. Costigan picked upthe projector, again donned his spy-ray goggles, and the two hurried on.

  "Nice work, Chief--it must be a gift to rough-house the way you do,"Bradley exclaimed. "That's why you took the live one?"

  "Practice helps some, too! I've been in brawls before, and I'm a lotyounger and maybe some faster than you are," Costigan explained briefly,penetrant gaze rigidly to the fore as they ran along one corridor afteranother.

  Several more guards, both living and mechanical, were encountered on theway, but they were not permitted to offer any opposition. Costigan sawthem first. In the furious beam of the projector of the dead pirate theywere riven into nothingness, and the two officers sped on to the roomwhich Costigan had located from afar. The three suits of Triplanetaryspace armor had been sealed into a cabinet whose doors Costiganliterally blew off with a blast of force, rather than consume time intracing the power leads.

  "I feel like something now!" Costigan, once more encased in his ownarmor, heaved a great sigh of relief. "Rough-and-tumble's all right withone or two, but that generator room is full of grief, and we won't haveany too much stuff as it is. We've got to take Clio's suit along--we'llcarry it down to the door of the power room, drop it there, and pick itup after we've wrecked the works."

  Contemptuous now of possible guards, the armored pair strode toward theroom which housed the pulsating heart of the immense fortress of space.Guards were encountered, and captains--officers who signaled franticallyto their chief, since he alone could unleash the frightful forces at hiscommand, and who profanely wondered at his unwonted silence--but theenemy beams were impotent against the mighty ether-walls of that armor;and the pirates, without armor in the security of their own planet asthey were, vanished utterly in the ravening beams of the twin Lewistons.As they paused before the door of the power room, both men felt Clio'svoice raised in her first and last appeal, an appeal wrung from heragainst her will by the extremity of her position.

  "Conway! Hurry! Oh, hurry! I can't last much longer--good-bye, dear!" Inthe horror-filled tones both men read clearly the girl's dire extremity.Each saw plainly a happy, care-free young earth girl, upon her firsttrip into space, locked inside an ether-wall with an over-brained,under-conscienced human machine--a super-intelligent but lecherous andunmoral mechanism of flesh and blood, acknowledging no authority, ruledby nothing save his own scientific drivings and the almost equallypowerful urges of his desires and passions! She had fought with everyresource at her command. She had wept and pleaded, she had stormed andraged, she had feigned submission and had played for time--and hertorment had not touched in the slightest degree the merciless andgloating brain of the being who called himself Roger. Now histantalizing, ruthless cat-play was done, the horrible gray-brown facewas close to hers--she wailed her final despairing message to Costiganand attacked that hideous face with the fury of a tigress.

  Costigan bit off a bitter imprecation. "Hold him just a second longer,sweetheart!" he cried, and the power room door vanished.

  Through the great room the two Lewistons swept at full aperture and atmaximum power, two rapidly opening fans of death and destruction. Hereand there a guard, more rapid than his fellows, trained a futileprojector--a projector whose magazine exploded at the touch of thatfrightful field of force, liberating instantaneously its thousands uponthousands of kilowatt-hours of stored-up energy. Through the delicatelyadjusted, complex mechanisms the destroying beams tore. At their toucharmatures burned out, high-tension leads volatilized in crashing,high-voltage sparks, masses of metal smoked and burned in the path ofvast forces now seeki
ng the easiest path to neutralization, delicateinstruments blew up, copper ran in streams like water. As the lastmachine subsided into a semi-molten mass of metal the two wreckers, eachgrasping a brace, felt themselves become weightless and knew that theyhad accomplished the first part of their program.

  Costigan leaped for the outer door. His the task to go to Clio's aid....Bradley would follow more slowly, bringing the girl's armor and takingcare of any possible pursuit. As he sailed through the air he spoke.

  "Coming, Clio! All right, girl?" Questioningly, half fearfully.

  "All right, Conway." Her voice was almost unrecognizable, broken inretching agony. "When everything went crazy he ... found out that theether-wall was up ... forgot all about me. He shut it off ... and seemedto go crazy, too ... he is floundering around like a wild man now....I'm trying to keep ... him from ... going down-stairs."

  "Good girl--keep him busy one minute more--he's getting all the warningsat once and wants to get back to his board. But what's the matter withyou? Did he ... hurt you, after all?"

  "Oh, no; not that. But I'm sick--horribly sick. I'm falling.... I'm sodizzy I can scarcely see ... my head is breaking up into little pieces... I just _know_ I'm going to die, Conway! Oh ... oh!"

  "Oh, is _that_ all!" In his sheer relief that they had been in time,Costigan did not think of sympathizing with Clio's very real presentdistress of mind and body. "I forgot that you're aground-gripper--that's just a little touch of space-sickness. It'll wearoff directly.... All right, I'm coming! Let go of him and get as faraway from him as you can!"

  He was now in the street. Perhaps two hundred feet distant and a hundredfeet above him was the tower room in which were Clio and Roger. Hesprang directly toward its large window, and as he floated "upward" hecorrected his course and accelerated his pace by firing backward atvarious angles with his heavy service pistol, uncaring that at the pointof impact of each of those shells a small blast of destruction erupted.He missed the window a trifle, but that did not matter--his flamingLewiston opened a way for him, partly through the window, partly throughthe wall. As he soared through the opening he trained projector andpistol upon Roger, now almost to the door, noticing as he did so thatClio was clinging convulsively to a lamp-bracket upon the wall. Door andwall vanished in the Lewiston's terrific beam, but the pirate stoodunharmed. Neither ravening ray nor explosive shell could harm him--hehad snapped on the protective shield whose generator was always upon hisperson.

  But Roger, while not exactly a ground-gripper, did not know how tohandle himself without weight; whereas Costigan, given six walls againstwhich to push, was even more efficient in weightless combat than whenhandicapped by the force of gravitation. Keeping his projector upon thepirate, he seized the first club to hand--a long, slender pedestal ofmetal--and launched himself past the pirate chief. With all the momentumof his mass and velocity and all the power of his mighty right arm heswung the bar at the pirate's head. That fiercely driven mass of metalshould have taken Roger's head from his shoulders, but it did not. Thatshield of force was utterly rigid and impenetrable; the only effect ofthe frightful blow was to set him spinning, end over end, like theflying baton of an acrobatic drum-major. As the spinning form crashedagainst the opposite wall of the room, Bradley floated in, carryingClio's armor. Without a word the captain loosened the helpless girl'sgrip upon the bracket and encased her in the suit. Then, supporting herat the window, he held his Lewiston upon the captive's head whileCostigan propelled him toward the opening. Both men knew that Roger'sshield of force must be threatened every instant--that if he wereallowed to release it he probably would bring to bear a hand-weapon evensuperior to their own.

  Braced against the wall, Costigan sighted along Roger's body toward themost distant point of the lofty dome of the artificial planet and gavehim a gentle push. Then, each grasping Clio by an arm, the two officersshoved mightily with their feet and the three armored forms darted awaytoward their only hope of escape--an emergency boat which could belaunched through the shell of the great globe. To attempt to reach the_Hyperion_ and to escape in one of her lifeboats would have beenuseless; they could not have forced the great gates of the mainair-locks and no other exits existed. As they sailed onward through theair, Costigan keeping the slowly-floating form of Roger enveloped in hisbeam, Clio began to recover.

  "Suppose they get their gravity fixed?" she asked, apprehensively. "Andthey're raying us and shooting at us!"

  "They may have fixed it already. They undoubtedly have spare parts andduplicate generators, but if they turn it on the fall will kill Rogertoo, and he wouldn't like that. They'll have to get him down with anairship, and they know that we'll get them as fast as they come up. Theycan't hurt us with hand-weapons, and before they can bring up any heavystuff they'll be afraid to use it, because we'll be too close to theirshell.

  "I wish we could have brought Roger along," he continued, savagely, toBradley. "But you were right, of course--it'd be altogether too muchlike a rabbit capturing a wildcat. My Lewiston's about done right now,and there can't be much left of yours--what he'd do to us would be a sinand a shame."

  Now at the great wall, the two men heaved mightily upon a lever, thegate of the emergency port swung slowly open, and they entered theminiature cruiser of the void. Costigan, familiar with the mechanism ofthe craft from careful study from his prison cell, manipulated thecontrols. Through gate after massive gate they went, until finally theywere out in open space, shooting toward distant Tellus at the maximumacceleration of which their small craft was capable.

  Costigan cut the other two phones out of circuit and spoke, hisattention fixed upon some extremely distant point.

  "Samms!" he called, sharply. "Costigan. We're out ... all right ... yes... sure ... absolutely ... you tell 'em, Sammy; I've got company here."

  Through the sound-disks of their helmets the girl and the captain hadheard Costigan's share of the conversation. Bradley stared at hiserstwhile first officer in amazement, and even Clio had often heard thatmighty, half-mythical name. Surely that bewildering young man must rankhigh, to speak so familiarly to Virgil Samms, the all-powerful head ofthe space-pervading Secret Service of the Triplanetary League!

  "You've turned in a general call-out," Bradley stated, rather thanasked.

  "Long ago--I've been in touch right along," Costigan answered. "Now thatthey know what to look for and know that ether-wave detectors areuseless, they can find it. Every vessel in seven sectors, clear down tothe scout patrols, is concentrating on this point, and the call is outfor all battleships and cruisers afloat. There are enough operatives outthere with ultra-waves to locate that globe, and once they spot itthey'll point it out to all the other vessels."

  "But how about the other prisoners?" asked the girl. "They'll all bekilled, won't they?"

  "Hard telling," Costigan shrugged. "Depends on how things turn out. Welack a lot of being safe ourselves yet, and it's my personal opinionthat there's going to be a real war."

  "What's worrying me mostly is our own chance," Bradley assented. "Theywill chase us, of course."

  "Sure, and they'll have more speed than we have. Depends on how far awaythe nearest Triplanetary vessels are. Anyway, we've done everything wecan do--it's in the laps of the gods now."

  Silence fell, and Costigan cut in Clio's phone and came over to the seatupon which she was reclining, white and stricken--worn out by thehorrible and terrifying ordeals of the last few hours. As he seatedhimself beside her she blushed vividly, but her deep blue eyes met hisgray ones steadily.

  "Clio, I ... we ... you ... that is," he flushed hotly and stopped. Thissecret agent, whose clear, keen brain no physical danger could cloud;who had proved over and over again that he was never at a loss in anyemergency, however desperate--this quick-witted officer floundered inembarrassment like any schoolboy, but continued, doggedly: "I'm afraidthat I gave myself away back there, but...."

  "We gave ourselves away, you mean," she filled in the pause. "I did myshare, but I won't hold you to it if you don
't want--but I _know_ thatyou love me, Conway!"

  "_Love_ you!" The man groaned, his face lined and hard, his whole bodyrigid. "That doesn't half tell it, Clio. You don't need to hold me--I'mheld for life. There never was a woman who meant anything to me before,and there never will be another. You're the only woman that everexisted. It isn't that. Can't you see that it's impossible?"

  "Of course I can't--it isn't impossible, at all." She released herfinger shields, four hands met and tightly clasped; and her low voicethrilled with feeling as she went on: "You love me and I love you. Thatis all that matters."

  "I wish it were," Costigan returned bitterly, "but you don't know whatyou'd be letting yourself in for. It's who and what you are and who andwhat I am that's eating me. You, Clio Marsden, Curtis Marsden'sdaughter. Nineteen years old. You think you've been places and donethings. You haven't. You haven't seen or done anything--you don't knowwhat it's all about. And who am I to love a girl like you? A homelessspace-flea who hasn't been on any planet three weeks in three years. Ahard-boiled egg. A trouble-shooter and a brawler by instinct andtraining. A sp...." He bit off the word and went on quickly: "Why, youdon't know me at all, and there's a lot of me that you never _will_know--that I can't let you know! You'd better lay off me, girl, whileyou can. It'll be best for you, believe me."

  "But I can't Conway, and neither can you," the girl answered softly, aglorious light in her eyes. "It's too late for that. On the ship it wasjust another of those things, but since then we've come really to knoweach other, and we're sunk. The situation is out of control, and we bothknow it--and neither of us would change it if we could, and you knowthat, too. I don't know very much, I admit, but I do know what youthought you'd have to keep from me, and I admire you all the more forit. We all honor the Service, Conway dearest--it is only you men whohave made and are keeping the Three Planets fit places to live in--and Iknow that Virgil Samms' chief lieutenant would have to be a man in fourthousand million...."

  "What makes you think that?" he demanded sharply.

  "You told me so yourself, indirectly. Who else in the known Universecould possibly call him 'Sammy'? You are hard, of course, but you mustbe so--and I never did like soft men, anyway. And you brawl in a goodcause. You are very much a _man_, my Conway; a real, _real_ man, and Ilove you! Now, if they catch us, all right--we'll die together, atleast!" she finished, passionately.

  "You're right, sweetheart, of course," he admitted. "I don't believethat I _could_ really let you let me go, even though I know you oughtto," and their hands locked together even more firmly than before. "Ifwe ever get out of this jam I'm going to kiss you, but this is no timeto be taking off your helmet. In fact, I'm taking too many chances withyou in keeping your finger shields off. Snap 'em on, Clio mine; thepirates ought to be getting fairly close by this time."

  Hands released and armor again tight, Costigan went over to join Bradleyat the control board.

  "How're they coming, Captain?" he asked.

  "Not so good. Quite a ways off yet. At least an hour, I'd say, before acruiser can get within range."

  "I'll see if I can locate any of the pirates chasing up. If I do, it'llbe by accident; this little spy-ray isn't good for much except closework. I'm afraid the first warning we'll have will be when they takehold of us with a beam or spear us with a ray. Probably a beam, though;this is one of their emergency lifeboats and they wouldn't want todestroy it unless they have to. Also, I imagine that Roger wants usalive pretty badly. He has unfinished business with all three of us, andI can well believe that his 'not particularly pleasant extinction' willbe even less so after the way we rooked him."

  "I want you to do me a favor, Conway." Clio's face was white with horrorat the thought of facing again that unspeakable creature of gray. "Giveme a gun or something, please. I don't want him to touch me again whileI'm alive."

  "He won't," Costigan assured her, narrow of eye and grim of jaw. He was,as she had said, hard. "But you don't want a gun. You might get nervousand use it too soon. I'll take care of you at the last possible moment,because if he gets hold of us we won't stand a chance of getting awayagain."

  For minutes there was silence, Costigan surveying the ether in alldirections with his ultra-wave device. Suddenly he laughed, deeply andwith real enjoyment, and the others stared at him in surprise.

  "No, I'm not crazy," he told them. "This is really funny; it had neveroccurred to me that all these pirate ships are invisible to any etherwave as long as they're using power. I can see them, of course, withthis sub-ether spy, but they can't see us! I knew that they should haveovertaken us before this. I've finally found them. They've passed us,and are now tacking around, waiting for us to cut off our power for aminute so that they can see us! They're heading right into theFleet--they think they're safe, of course, but what a surprise they'vegot coming to them!"

  But it was not only the pirates who were to be surprised. Long beforethe pirate ship had come within extreme visibility range of theTriplanetary Fleet, it lost its invisibility and was starkly outlinedupon the lookout plates of the three fugitives. For a few seconds thepirate craft seemed unchanged, then it began to glow redly, with a redthat seemed to become darker as it grew stronger. Then the sharpoutlines blurred, puffs of air burst outward, and the metal of the hullbecame a viscous, fluid-like something, flowing away in a long, redstreamer into seemingly empty space. Costigan turned his ultra-gaze intothat space and saw that it was actually far from empty. There lay a vastsomething, formless and indefinite even to his sub-ethereal vision; asomething into which the viscid stream of transformed metal plunged.Plunged, and vanished.

  Powerful interference blanketed his ultra-wave and howled throughout hisbody; but in the hope that some part of his message might get through hecalled Samms, and calmly and clearly he narrated everything that hadjust happened. He continued his crisp report, neglecting not thesmallest detail, while their tiny craft was drawn inexorably toward aredly impermeable veil; continued it until their lifeboat, still intact,shot through that veil and he found himself unable to move. He wasconscious, he was breathing normally, his heart was beating; but not avoluntary muscle would obey his will.