The Best of E E 'Doc' Smith

by E E 'Doc' Smith

  The affection in which "The Doc" was held by the science fiction fraternity was demonstrated when, in 1963, at the 21st World Convention in Washington-where The Skylark was hatched-veteran fans presented him with their Hall of Fame award. By then he was having trouble with his eyes, but he had still not done with writing. The following year he reappeared in If with The Imperial Stars, in which he tried to recapture some of the atmosphere of the "Lensman" stories. This tale, too, gave promise of a series featuring a troupe of circus performers involved in sabotage in a galactic empire. Then editor Frederik Pohl, having egged him on, surprised Smith's old-time followers by presenting Skylark DuQuesne, in which the legendary villain who had been dispatched thirty years before was reincarnated, and compelled to join Dick Seaton in resisting another grim menace from afar. The serial had hardly ended when the news reached his friends, in August 1965, that "Skylark" Smith had died of a heart attack. It was the end of what If had called "the most famous science fiction saga of all time."

  WALTER GILLINGS Ilford, Essex, 1975.

  To The Far Reaches Of Space

  Hair-raising explorations and strange ventures into faraway worlds as Man breaks the light-speed barrier and heads into the black depths of interstellar space.

  For forty-eight hours the uncontrolled engine dragged DuQuesne's vessel through the empty reaches of space with an awful and constantly increasing velocity. Then, when only a few traces of copper remained, the acceleration began to decrease. Floor and seats began to return to their normal positions. When the last particle of copper was gone, the ship's speed became constant. Apparently motionless to those inside her, she was in reality moving with a velocity thousands of times greater than that of light.

  DuQuesne was the first to gain control of himself. His first effort to get up lifted him from the floor and he floated lightly upward to the ceiling, striking it with a gentle bump and remaining, motionless and unsupported, in the air. The others, none of whom had attempted to move, stared at him in amazement.

  DuQuesne reached out, clutched a hand-grip, and drew himself down to the floor. With great caution he removed his suit, transferring two automatic pistols as be did so. By feeling gingerly of his body he found that no bones were broken. Only then did he look around to see how his companions were faring.

  They were all sitting up and holding onto something. The girls were resting quietly; Perkins was removing his leather costume.

  "Good morning, Dr. DuQuesne. Something must have happened when I kicked your friend."

  "Good morning, Miss Vaneman." DuQuesne smiled, more than half in relief. "Several things happened. He fell into the controls, turning on all the juice, and we left considerably faster than I intended to. I tried to get control, but couldn't. Then we all went to sleep and just woke up."

  "Have you any idea where we are?"

  "No ... but I can make a fair estimate." He glanced at the empty chamber where the copper cylinder had been; took out notebook, pencil, and slide rule; and figured for minutes.

  He then drew himself to one of the windows and stared out, then went to another window, and another. He seated himself at the crazily tilted control board and studied it. He worked the computer for a few moments.

  "I don't know exactly what to make of this," he told Dorothy, quietly. "Since the power was on exactly fortyeight hours, we should not be more than two light-days away from our sun. However, we certainly are. I could recognize at least some of the fixed stars and constellations from anywhere within a light-year or so of Sol, and I can't find even one familiar thing. Therefore we must have been accelerating all the time. We must be somewhere in the neighborhood of two hundred thirty-seven light-years away from home. For you two who don't know what a light-year is, about six quadrillion-six thousand million millionmiles."

  Dorothy's face turned white; Margaret Spencer fainted; Perkins merely goggled, his face working convulsively. "Then we'll never get back?" Dorothy asked.

  "I wouldn't say that--"

  "You got us into this!" Perkins screamed, and leaped at Dorothy, murderous fury in his glare, his fingers curved into talons. Instead of reaching her, however, he merely sprawled grotesquely in the air. DuQuesne, braced one foot against the wall and seizing a hand-grip with his left hand, knocked Perkins clear across the room with one blow of his right.

  "None of that, louse," DuQuesne said, evenly. "One more wrong move out of you and I'll throw you out. It isn't her fault we're here, it's our own. And mostly yours-if you'd had three brain cells working she couldn't have kicked you. But that's past. The only thing of interest now is getting back."

  "But we can't get back," Perkins whimpered. "The power's gone, the controls are wrecked, and you said you're lost."

  "I did not." DuQuesne's voice was icy. "What I said was that I don't know where we are-a different statement entirely."

  "Isn't that a distinction without a difference?" Dorothy asked acidly.

  "By no means, Miss Vaneman. I can repair the control board. I have two extra power bars. One of them, with direction exactly reversed, will stop us, relative to the earth. I'll bum half of the last one, then coast until, by recognizing fixed stars and triangulating them, I can fix our position. I will then know where our solar system is and will go there. In the meantime, I suggest that we have something to eat."

  "A beautiful and timely thought!" Dorothy exclaimed. "I'm famished. Where's your refrigerator? But something else comes first. I'm a mess, and she must be, too. Where's our room ... that is, we have a room?"

  "Yes. That one, and there's the galley, over there. We're cramped, but you'll be able to make out. Let me say, Miss Vaneman, that I really admire your nerve. I didn't expect that lunk to disintegrate the way he did, but I thought you girls might. Miss Spencer will, yet, unless you ..."

  "I'll try to. I'm scared, of course, but falling apart won't help ... and we've simply got to get back.'

  "We will. Two of us, at least."

  Dorothy nudged the other girl, who had not paid any attention to anything around her, and led her along a handrail. As she went, she could not help but think-with more than a touch of admiration-of the man who had abducted her. Calm, cool, master of himself and the situation, disregarding completely the terrible bruises that disfigured half his face and doubtless half his body as well-she admitted to herself that it was only his example which had enabled her to maintain her self-control.

  As she crawled over Perkins' suit she remembered that he had not taken any weapons from it, and a glance assured her that Perkins was not watching her. She searched it quickly, finding two automatics. She noted with relief that they were standard .45's and stuck them into her pockets.

  In the room, Dorothy took one look at the other girl, then went to the galley and back.

  "Here, swallow this," she ordered.

  The girl did so. She shuddered uncontrollably, but did begin to come to life.

  "That's better. Now, snap out of it," Dorothy said, sharply. "We aren't dead and we aren't going to be."

  "I am," came the wooden reply. "You don't know that beast Perkins."

  "I do so. And better yet, I know things that neither DuQuesne nor that Perkins even guess. Two of the smartest men that ever lived are on our tail, and when they catch up with us ... well, I wouldn't be in their shoes for anything."

  "What?" Dorothy's confident words and bearing, as much the potent pill, were taking effect. The strange girl was coming back rapidly to sanity and normality. "Not really?"

  "Really. We've got a lot to do, and we've got to clean up first. And with no weight ... does it make you sick?"

  "It did, dreadfully, but I've got nothing left to be sick with. Doesn't it you?"

  "Not very much. I don't like it, but I'm getting used to it. And I don't suppose you know anything about it."

  "No. All I can feel is that I'm falling, and it's almost unbearable."

  "It isn't pleasant. I've studied it a lot-in theory-and the boys say all you've got to do is forget that falling sensa
tion. Not that I've been able to do it, but I'm still trying. The first thing's a bath, and then-"

  "A bath! Here? How?"

  "Sponge-bath. I'll show you. Then ... they brought along quite a lot of clothes to fit me, and you're just about my size ... and you'll look nice in green......

  After they had put themselves to rights, Dorothy said, "That's a lot better." Each girl looked at the other, and each liked what she saw.

  The stranger was about twenty-two with heavy, wavy black hair. Her eyes were a rich, deep brown; her skin clear, smooth ivory. Normally a beautiful girl, thought Dorothy, even though she was now thin, haggard, and worn.

  "Let's get acquainted before we do anything else," she said. "I'm Margaret Spencer, formerly private secretary to His High Mightiness, Brookings of Steel. They swindled my father out of an invention worth millions and then killed him. I got the job to see if I could prove it, but I didn't get much evidence before they caught me. So, after two months of things you wouldn't believe, here I am. Talking never would have done me any good, and I'm certain it won't now. Perkins will kill me ... or maybe, if what you say is true, I should add 'if he can.' This is the first time I've had that much hope."

  "But how about Dr. DuQuesne? Surely he wouldn't let him."

  "I've never met DuQuesne before, but from what I heard around the office, he's worse than Perkins-in a different way, of course. He's absolutely cold and utterly hard-a perfect fiend."

  "Oh, come, you're too hard on him. Didn't you see him knock Perkins down when he came after me?"

  "No-or perhaps I did, in a dim sort of way. But that doesn't mean anything. He probably wants you left alive of course that's it, since he went to all the trouble of kidnapping you. Otherwise he would have let Perkins do anything he wanted to with you, without lifting a finger."

  "I can't believe that." Nevertheless, a chill struck at Dorothy's heart as she remembered the inhuman crimes attributed to the man. "He has treated us with every consideration so far-let's hope for the best. Anyway, I'm sure we'll get back safely."

  "You keep saying that. What makes you so sure?"

  "Well, I'm Dorothy Vaneman, and I'm engaged to Dick Seaton, the man who invented this spaceship, and I'm as sure as can be that he is chasing us right now."

  "But that's just what they want!" Margaret exclaimed. "I heard some Top Secret stuff about that. Your name and Seaton's brings it back to me. Their ship is rigged, some way or other, so it will blow up or something the first time they go anywhere!"

  "That's what they think." Dorothy's voice dripped scorn. "Dick and his partner-you've heard of Martin Crane, of course?"

  "I heard the name mentioned with Seaton's, but that's all."

  "Well, he's quite a wonderful inventor, and almost as smart as Dick is. Together they found out about that sabotage and built another ship that Steel doesn't know anything about. Bigger and better and faster than this one."

  "That makes me feel better." Margaret really brightened for the first time. "No matter how rough this trip will be, it'll be a vacation for me now. If I only had a gun ..."

  "Here," and as Margaret stared at the proffered weapon, "I've got another. I got them out of Perkins' suit."

  "Glory be!" Margaret fairly beamed. "There is balm in Gilead, after all! Just watch, next time Perkins threatens to cut my heart out with his knife ... and we'd better go make those sandwiches, don't you think? And call me Peggy, please."

  "Will do, Peggy my dear-we're going to be great friends. And I'm Dot or Dottie to you."

  In the galley the girls set about making dainty sandwiches, but the going was very bard indeed. Margaret was particularly inept. Slices of bread went one way, bits of butter another, ham and sausage in several others. She seized two trays and tried to trap the escaping food between them-but in the attempt she released her hold and floated helplessly into the air.

  "Oh, Dot, what'll we do anyway," she wailed. "Everything wants to fly all over the place!"

  "I don't quite know-I wish we had a bird-cage, so we could reach in and grab anything before it could escape. We'd better tie everything down, I guess, and let everybody come in and cut off a chunk of anything they want. But what I'm wondering about is drinking. I'm simply dying of thirst and I'm afraid to open this bottle." She had a bottle of ginger ale clutched in her left hand, an opener in her right; one leg was hooked around a vertical rail. "I'm afraid it'll go into a million drops and Dick says if you breathe them in you're apt to choke to death."

  "Seaton was right-as usual." Dorothy whirled around. DuQuesne was surveying the room, a glint of amusement in his one sound eye. "I wouldn't recommend playing with charged drinks while weightless. Just a minute-I'll get the net."

  He got it; and while he was deftly clearing the air of floating items of food he went on. "Charged stuff could be murderous unless you're wearing a mask. Plain liquids you can drink through a straw after you learn how. Your swallowing has got to be conscious, and all muscular with no gravity. But what I came here for. was to tell you I'm ready to put on one G of acceleration so we'll have normal gravity. I'll put it on easy, but watch it."

  "What a heavenly relief!" Margaret cried, when everything again stayed put. "I never thought I'd ever be grateful for just being able to stand still in one place, did you?"

  Preparing the meal was now of course simple enough. As the four ate, Dorothy noticed that DuQuesne's left arm was almost useless and that he ate with difficulty because of his terribly bruised face. After the meal was done she went to the medicine chest and selected containers, swabs, and gauze.

  "Come over here, doctor. First aid is indicated."

  "I'm all right ..." he began, but at her imperious gesture he got up carefully and came toward her.

  "Your arm is lame. Where's the damage?"

  "The shoulder is the worst. I rammed it through the board."

  "Take off your shirt and lie down here."

  He did so and Dorothy gasped at the extent and severity of the man's injuries.

  "Will you get me some towels and hot water, please, Peggy?" She worked busily for minutes, bathing away clotted blood, applying antiseptics, and bandaging. "Now for those bruises-I never saw anything like them before. I'm not really a nurse. What would you use? Tripidiagen or ... "

  "Amylophene. Massage it in as I move the arm."

  He did not wince and his expression did not change; but he began to sweat and his face turned white. She paused. "Keep it up, nurse," he directed, coolly. "That stuff's murder in the first degree, but it does the job and it's fast." When she had finished and he was putting his shirt back on: "Thanks, Miss Vaneman-thanks a lot. It feels a hundred per cent better already. But why did you do it? I'd think you'd want to bash me with that basin instead."

  "Efficiency." She smiled. "As our chief engineer it won't do to have you laid up."

  "Logical enough, in a way ... but ... I wonder... :' She did not reply, but turned to Perkins.

  "How are you, Mr. Perkins? Do you require medical attention?"

  "No," Perkins growled. "Keep away from me or I'll cut your heart out."

  "Shut up!" DuQuesne snapped. "I haven't done anything!"

  "Maybe it didn't quite constitute making a break, so I'll broaden the definition. If you can't talk like a man, keep still. Lay off Miss Vaneman-thoughts, words, and actions. I'm in charge of her and I will have no interference whatever. This is your last warning."

  "How about Spencer, then?"

  "She's your responsibility, not mine."

  An evil light appeared in Perkins' eyes. He took out a wicked-looking knife and began to strop it carefully on the leather of the seat, glaring at his victim the while.

  Dorothy started to protest, but was silenced by a gesture from Margaret, who calmly took the pistol out of her pocket. She jerked the slide and held the weapon up on one finger.

  "Don't worry about his knife. He's been sharpening it for my benefit for the last month. It doesn't mean a thing. But you shouldn't play with it so much, Perkins, yo
u might be tempted to try to throw it. So drop it on the floor and kick it over here to me. Before I count three. One." The heavy pistol steadied into line with his chest and her finger tightened on the trigger.

  "Two." Perkins obeyed and Margaret picked up the knife.

  "Doctor!" Perkins appealed to DuQuesne, who had watched the scene unmoved, a faint smile upon his saturnine face. "Why don't you shoot her? You won't sit there and see me murdered!"

  "Won't I? It makes no difference to me which of you kills the other, or if you both do, or neither. You brought this on yourself. Anyone with any fraction of a brain doesn't leave guns lying around loose. You should have seen Miss Vaneman take them-I did."

  "You saw her take them and didn't warn me?" Perkins croaked.

  "Certainly. If you can't take care of yourself I'm not going to take care of you. Especially after the way you bungled the job. I could have recovered the stuff she stole from that ass Brookings inside an hour."

  "How?" Perkins sneered. "If you're so good, why did you have to come to me about Seaton and Crane?"

  "Because my methods wouldn't work and yours would. It isn't on planning that you're weak, as I told Brookings it's on execution."

  "Well, what are you going to do about her? Are you going to sit there and lecture all day?"

  "I am going to do nothing whatever. Fight your own battles."

  Dorothy broke the silence that followed. "You did see me take the guns, doctor?"

  "I did. You have one in your right breeches pocket now."

  "Then why didn't you, or don't you, try to take it away from me?" she asked, wonderingly.

  " 'Try' is the wrong word. If I had not wanted you to take them you wouldn't have. If I didn't want you to have a gun now I would take it away from you," and his black eyes stared into her violet ones with such calm certainty that she felt her heart sink.

  "Has Perkins got any more knives or guns or things in his room?" Dorothy demanded.