by E. E. Smith
CHAPTER XIII
Spacehounds Triumphant
Now that the hexan threat that had so long oppressed the humanity of the_Sirius_ was lifted, that dull gray football of armor steel was filledwith relief and rejoicing as the pilot laid his course for Europa.Lounges and saloons resounded with noise as police, passengers, and suchof the crew as were at liberty made merry. The control room, in whichwere grouped the leaders of the expedition and the scientists, wasorderly enough, but a noticeable undertone of gladness had replaced thetense air it had known so long.
"Hi, men!" Nadia Stevens and Verna Pickering, arms around each other'swaists, entered the room and saluted the group gaily before they becamea part of it.
"'Smatter, girls--tired of dancing already?" asked Brandon.
"Oh, no--we could dance from now on," Verna assured him. "But you see,Nadia hadn't seen that husband of hers for fifteen minutes, and wasgetting lonesome. Being afraid of all you men, she wanted me to comealong for moral support. The real reason I came, though," and shenarrowed her expressive eyes and lowered her voice mysteriously, "isthat you two physicists are here. I want to study my chosen victims alittle longer before I decide over which of you to cast the spell ofmy fatal charm."
"But you can't do that," he objected, vigorously. "Quince and I aregoing to settle that ourselves some day--by shooting dice, or maybe eachother, or...." he broke off, listening to an animated conversation goingon behind them.
"... just simply outrageous!" Nadia was exclaiming. "Here we saved hislife, and I fed him a lot of my candy, and we went to all the trouble ofbringing their ship back here almost to Jupiter for them, and then theysimply dashed off without a word of thanks or anything! And he alwaysacted as though he never wanted to see or hear of any of us again, ever!Why, they don't _think_ straight--as Norman would say it, they're _full_of little red _ants_! Why, they aren't even _human_!"
"Sure not." Brandon turned to the flushed speaker. "They couldn't be,hardly, with their make-up. But is it absolutely necessary that allintelligent beings should possess such an emotion as gratitude? Such abeing without it does seem funny to us, but I can't see that its lacknecessarily implies anything particularly important. Keep still aminute," he went on, as Nadia tried to interrupt him, "and listen tosome real wisdom. Quince, _you_ tell 'em."
"They are, of course, very highly developed and extremely intelligent;but it should not be surprising that intelligence should manifestitself in ways quite baffling to us human beings, whose minds work sodifferently. They are, however ... well, peculiar."
"I _won't_ keep still!" Nadia burst out, at the first opportunity."I don't want to talk about those hideous things any more, anyway.Come on, Steve, let's go up and dance!"
Crowninshield turned to Verna, with the obvious intention of leadingher away, but Brandon interposed.
"Sorry, Crown, but this lady is conducting a highly importantpsychological research, so your purely social claims will have to waituntil after the scientific work is done."
"Why narrow the field of investigation?" laughed the girl. "I'd ratherwiden it, myself--I might prefer a general, even to a physicist!"
They went up to the main saloon and joined the melee there, and afterone dance with Verna--all he could claim in that crowd ofmen--Crowninshield turned to Brandon.
"You two seem to know Miss Pickering extraordinarily well. Would I bestepping on your toes if I give her a play?"
"Clear ether as far as we're concerned." Brandon shrugged his shoulders."She's been kicking around under foot ever since she was knee high to aduck--we gave her her first lessons on a slide rule."
"Don't be dumb, Norman. That woman's a knock-out--a riot--a regulartri-planet call-out!"
"Oh, she's all x, as far as that goes. She's a good little scout,too--not half as dumb as she acts--and she's one of the squarest littleaces that ever waved a plume; but as for _playing_ her--too much likeour kid sister."
"Good--me for her!" and they made their way back down to the controlroom.
Stevens, after his one dance with Nadia, had already returned. Brandonand Crowninshield found him seated at the calculating machine,continuing a problem which already filled several pages of his notebook.
"'Smatter, Steve? So glad to see a calculator and some paper that youcan't let them alone?"
"Not exactly--just had a thought a day or so ago. Been computing theorbit of the wreckage of the _Arcturus_ around Jupiter. Think we shouldsalvage it--the upper half, at least. It was left intact, you know."
"H ... m ... m. That would be nice, all right. Dope enough?"
"Got the direction solid, from my own observations; the velocity's apretty rough approximation though. But after allowing for my probableerror, it figures an ellipse of low eccentricity, between the orbits ofIo and Europa. Its period is short--about two days."
"Isn't it wonderful to have a brain?" Brandon addressed the room atlarge. "The kid's clever. Nobody else would have thought of it, exceptmaybe Westfall. Let's see your figures. Um ... m ... m. According tothat, we're within an hour of it, right now." He turned to the pilot andsketched rapidly.
"Get on this line here, please, and decelerate, so that the stuff'llcatch up with us, and pass the word to the lookouts. Stevens and I willtake the bow plates.
"That's a good idea," he went on to Stevens, as they took their placesat main and auxiliary ultra-banks. "Lot of plunder in that ship.Instruments, boats, and equipment worth millions, besides most of thejunk of the passengers--clothes, trunks, trinkets, and what-not. You'rethere, bucko!"
"Thanks, Chief," ... and they fell silent, watching the instrumentscarefully, and from time to time making computations from the readingsof the acceleration and flight meters.
"There she is!" An alarm bell had finally sounded, the ultra-lights hadflared out into space, and upon both screens there shone out images ofthe closely clustered wreckage of the _Arcturus_. But both men were moreinterested just then in the mathematics of the recovery than in thevessel itself.
"Missed it eight minutes of time and eleven divisions on the scale,"reported Stevens. "Not so good."
"Not so bad either--I've seen worse computation." Thus lightly wasdismissed a mathematical feat which, a few years earlier, before thedays of I-P computers, would have been deemed worthy of publication in"The Philosophical Magazine."
* * * * *
Director Newton was called in, and it was decided that the many smallfragments of the vessel were not worth saving; that its upper halfwas all that they should attempt to tow the enormous distance back toTellus. The pace of the _Sirius_ was adjusted to that of the floatingmasses, and tractor beams were clamped upon the undamaged portion of thederelict, and upon the two slices from the nose of the craft. A coupleof the larger fragments of wreckage were also taken, to furnish metalfor the repairs which would be necessary. Acceleration was broughtslowly up to normal, and the battle-scarred cruiser of the void, withher heavy burden of inert metal, resumed her interrupted voyage towardEuropa; the satellite upon which the passengers and crew of theill-fated _Arcturus_ had been so long immured. On she bored through theether, detector screens full out and greenly scintillant Vorkulianwall-screens outlining her football shape in weird and ghastly light;unafraid now of any possible surviving space-craft of the hexans.
But if the hexans detected her, they made no sign. Perhaps their fleethad been destroyed utterly; perhaps it had been impressed upon eventheir fierce minds that those sparkling green screens were not to bemolested with impunity! The satellite was reached without event and downinto the crater landing shaft the two enormous masses of metal dropped.
Callisto's foremost citizens were on hand to welcome the Terrestrialrescuers, and revelry reigned supreme in that deeply buried Europancommunity. All humanity celebrated. The Callistonians rejoiced becausethey were now freed from the age-old oppression of the hexan hordes;because they could once more extend their civilization over the Joviansatellites and live again their normal lives upon the surface o
f thosesmall worlds.
The Terrestrials were almost equally enthusiastic in the reunion thatmarked the end of the long imprisonment of the refugees.
As soon as the hull of the _Arcturus_ had been warmed sufficiently topermit inspection, its original passengers were allowed to visit itbriefly, to examine and to reclaim their belongings. Of course, somedamage had been done by the cold of interplanetary space, but in generaleverything was as they had left it. Stevens and Nadia were among thefirst permitted aboard. They went first to the control room, whereStevens found his bag still lying behind Breckenridge's desk, where hehad thrown it when he first boarded the vessel. Then they made theirway up to Nadia's stateroom, which they found in meticulous order andspotless in its cleanliness--there is neither dust nor dirt in space.Nadia glanced about the formal little room and laughed up at herhusband.
"Funny, isn't it, sweetheart, how little we know what to expect? Justthink how surprised I would have been, when I left this room, if I hadbeen told that I would have a husband before I got back to it!"
Breckenridge's first thought was for his precious triplex automaticchronometer, which he found, of course, "way off"--six and three-tenthsseconds fast. Having corrected the timepiece from that of the _Sirius_,he immersed himself in the other delicate instruments of hisdepartment--and he was easy to find from that time on.
Overcrowded as the _Sirius_ already was, it was decided that theoriginal complement of the _Arcturus_ should occupy their formerquarters aboard her during the return trip. To this end, corps ofmechanics set to work upon the salvaged hulk. Heavy metal work was nonovelty to the Callistonian engineers and mechanics, and the _Sirius_also was well equipped with metal-working machines and men. Thus theprow was welded; armored, insulating air-breaks were built along thestern, which was the plane of hexan cleavage, electrical connectionswere restored; and lastly, a set of the great Vorkulian wall-screengenerators, absorbers, and dissipators was installed, with sufficientaccumulator capacity for their operation. Director Newton studied thisinstallation in silence for some time, then went in search of Brandon.
"I hadn't considered the possibility of being attacked againbetween here and Tellus, but there's always the chance," he admitted."If you think that there is any danger, we will crowd them all into the_Sirius_. It will not be at all comfortable, but it will be better thanhaving any more of us killed."
"With that outfit they'll be as safe as we will," the scientist assuredhim. "They can stand as much grief as we can. We'll do the fighting forthe whole outfit from here, and anything we meet will have to take usbefore they can touch them. So they had better ride it there, wherethey'll have passengers' accommodations and be comfortable. As todanger, I don't know what to expect. They may all be gone and they maynot. We're going to expect trouble every meter of the way in, though,and be ready for it."
Everything ready and thoroughly tested, and stream of power flowinginto the _Arcturus_ from the cosmic receptors of her sister ship, thepassengers and their new possessions were moved into their formerquarters. There was a brief ceremony of farewell, the doors of theairlocks were closed, the careful check-out was gone through, and thedriving projectors of the _Sirius_ lifted both great vessels up theshaft, slowly and easily. And after them, as long as they could be seen,stared the thousands of Callistonians who thronged the great shaft'sfloor. Many of the spectators were not, strictly speaking, Callistoniansat all. They were really Europans, born and reared in that hidden citywhich was to have been the last stronghold of Callisto's civilization.In that throng were hundreds who had never before seen the light of thesun nor any of the glories of the firmament, hundreds to whom that briefglimpse was a foretaste of the free and glorious life which was soon tobe theirs.
Up and up mounted that powerful tug-boat of space, with her heavy barge,falling smoothly upward at normal acceleration. Below her first Europa,then mighty Jupiter, became moons growing smaller and smaller. In theirstateroom Nadia's supple waist writhed in the curve of Stevens' arm asshe turned and looked up at him with sparkling eyes.
"Well, big fellow, how does it feel to be out of a job? Or are you goingover there every day on a tractor beam to work, as Norman suggested?"
"Not on your sweet young life!" he exclaimed. "Norm thought he waskidding somebody, but it registered zero. It gives me the pip to loafaround when there's a lot of work to do, but this is entirely different.Nothing's driving us now, and a fellow's entitled to at least onehoneymoon during his life. And what a honeymoon this is going to be,little spacehound of my heart! Nothing to do but love you all the wayfrom here to Tellus! Whoopee!"
"Oh, there's a couple of other things to do," she reminded him gaily."You've got to smoke a lot of good cigarettes, I must eat a lot ofDelray's chocolates, and we both really should catch up on eating fancycooking. Speaking of eating, isn't that the second call for dinner? It_is_!" and they went along the narrow hall toward the elevator. To thesetwo the long journey was to seem all too short.
Long though the voyage was, it was uneventful. The occupants of thetwo vessels were in constant touch with each other by means of thecommunicators, and there was also much visiting back and forth inperson. Stevens and Nadia came often to the _Sirius_, and wereaccompanied frequently by Verna Pickering, who claimed anew her ancientright of "kicking around under foot," wherever Brandon and Westfallmight chance to be--and at such times General Crowninshield waspractically certain to appear. And upon days when the beautiful brunettedid not appear, the commandant generally found it necessary to inspectin person something in the _Arcturus_.
Day after day passed, and even the new and ultra-powerful detectorscreens of the _Sirius_ remained unresponsive and cold. Day after daythe plates before the doubled lookouts and observers remained blank.Power flowed smoothly and unfailingly into the cosmic receptors, andthe products of conversion were discharged with equal smoothness andregularity from the forty-five gigantic driving projectors. The tractorbeam held its heavy burden easily and the generators functionedperfectly. And finally a planet began to loom up in the stern lookoutplates.
Verna, the irrepressible, was in the control room of the _Sirius_,quarreling adroitly with Brandon and deftly flirting with Crowninshield.Glancing into the control screen she saw the planet in its end block,then studied the instruments briefly.
"We're heading for _Mars_!" she declared with conviction. "I thoughtit looked that way yesterday, but supposed it must be only apparent--atrick of piloting or something about the orbit. I thought of course youwere taking us back home--but you can't _possibly_ get to Tellus on anysuch course as this!"
"Sure not," Brandon replied easily. "Certainly it's Mars. Isn't thatwhere the _Arcturus_ started out for? Whoever said we were going toTellus? Of course, if any of the passengers want to go right back theIPC will undoubtedly furnish transportation _gratis_. But paste this inyour hat, Verna, for future reference--when spacehounds start out to goanywhere they _go_ there, even if they have to spend a year or so onminus time to do it!"
Closer and closer they approached the red planet, swinging around in awide arc in order to make their course coincide exactly with the pilotray of check station M14, which was now precisely in its scheduledlocation in space. At the chief pilot's desk in the control room of the_Arcturus_, Breckenridge checked in with the station, then calculatedrapidly the instant of their touching the specially-built bumperplatforms of spring steel, hemp, and fiber which awaited them upon theMartian dock of the Interplanetary Corporation. Within range of theterminal, he plugged into it, waited until the tiny light flashed itsgreen message of attention, and reported.
"IPV _Arcturus_; Breckenridge, Chief Pilot; trip number forty-threetwenty-nine. Checking in--four hundred forty-six days, fifteen hours,eleven minutes, thirty-eight and seven-tenths seconds minus!"
THE END.
Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories July,August and September 1931. Extensive research did not uncover anyevidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
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