Triplanetary
superior to their own.
Braced against the wall, Costigan sighted along Roger's body toward the
most distant point of the lofty dome of the artificial planet and gave
him a gentle push. Then, each grasping Clio by an arm, the two officers
shoved mightily with their feet and the three armored forms darted away
toward their only hope of escape--an emergency boat which could be
launched through the shell of the great globe. To attempt to reach the
_Hyperion_ and to escape in one of her lifeboats would have been
useless; they could not have forced the great gates of the main
air-locks and no other exits existed. As they sailed onward through the
air, Costigan keeping the slowly-floating form of Roger enveloped in his
beam, Clio began to recover.
"Suppose they get their gravity fixed?" she asked, apprehensively. "And
they're raying us and shooting at us!"
"They may have fixed it already. They undoubtedly have spare parts and
duplicate generators, but if they turn it on the fall will kill Roger
too, and he wouldn't like that. They'll have to get him down with an
airship, and they know that we'll get them as fast as they come up. They
can't hurt us with hand-weapons, and before they can bring up any heavy
stuff they'll be afraid to use it, because we'll be too close to their
shell.
"I wish we could have brought Roger along," he continued, savagely, to
Bradley. "But you were right, of course--it'd be altogether too much
like 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 sin
and a shame."
Now at the great wall, the two men heaved mightily upon a lever, the
gate of the emergency port swung slowly open, and they entered the
miniature cruiser of the void. Costigan, familiar with the mechanism of
the craft from careful study from his prison cell, manipulated the
controls. Through gate after massive gate they went, until finally they
were out in open space, shooting toward distant Tellus at the maximum
acceleration of which their small craft was capable.
Costigan cut the other two phones out of circuit and spoke, his
attention 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 had
heard Costigan's share of the conversation. Bradley stared at his
erstwhile first officer in amazement, and even Clio had often heard that
mighty, half-mythical name. Surely that bewildering young man must rank
high, to speak so familiarly to Virgil Samms, the all-powerful head of
the space-pervading Secret Service of the Triplanetary League!
"You've turned in a general call-out," Bradley stated, rather than
asked.
"Long ago--I've been in touch right along," Costigan answered. "Now that
they know what to look for and know that ether-wave detectors are
useless, they can find it. Every vessel in seven sectors, clear down to
the scout patrols, is concentrating on this point, and the call is out
for all battleships and cruisers afloat. There are enough operatives out
there with ultra-waves to locate that globe, and once they spot it
they'll point it out to all the other vessels."
"But how about the other prisoners?" asked the girl. "They'll all be
killed, won't they?"
"Hard telling," Costigan shrugged. "Depends on how things turn out. We
lack a lot of being safe ourselves yet, and it's my personal opinion
that there's going to be a real war."
"What's worrying me mostly is our own chance," Bradley assented. "They
will chase us, of course."
"Sure, and they'll have more speed than we have. Depends on how far away
the nearest Triplanetary vessels are. Anyway, we've done everything we
can do--it's in the laps of the gods now."
Silence fell, and Costigan cut in Clio's phone and came over to the seat
upon which she was reclining, white and stricken--worn out by the
horrible and terrifying ordeals of the last few hours. As he seated
himself beside her she blushed vividly, but her deep blue eyes met his
gray ones steadily.
"Clio, I ... we ... you ... that is," he flushed hotly and stopped. This
secret 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 any
emergency, however desperate--this quick-witted officer floundered in
embarrassment like any schoolboy, but continued, doggedly: "I'm afraid
that I gave myself away back there, but...."
"We gave ourselves away, you mean," she filled in the pause. "I did my
share, but I won't hold you to it if you don't want--but I _know_ that
you love me, Conway!"
"_Love_ you!" The man groaned, his face lined and hard, his whole body
rigid. "That doesn't half tell it, Clio. You don't need to hold me--I'm
held 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 ever
existed. 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 her
finger shields, four hands met and tightly clasped; and her low voice
thrilled with feeling as she went on: "You love me and I love you. That
is all that matters."
"I wish it were," Costigan returned bitterly, "but you don't know what
you'd be letting yourself in for. It's who and what you are and who and
what I am that's eating me. You, Clio Marsden, Curtis Marsden's
daughter. Nineteen years old. You think you've been places and done
things. You haven't. You haven't seen or done anything--you don't know
what it's all about. And who am I to love a girl like you? A homeless
space-flea who hasn't been on any planet three weeks in three years. A
hard-boiled egg. A trouble-shooter and a brawler by instinct and
training. A sp...." He bit off the word and went on quickly: "Why, you
don'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, while
you can. It'll be best for you, believe me."
"But I can't Conway, and neither can you," the girl answered softly, a
glorious light in her eyes. "It's too late for that. On the ship it was
just another of those things, but since then we've come really to know
each other, and we're sunk. The situation is out of control, and we both
know it--and neither of us would change it if we could, and you know
that, too. I don't know very much, I admit, but I do know what you
thought you'd have to keep from me, and I admire you all the more for
it. We all honor the Service, Conway dearest--it is only you men who
have made and are keeping the Three Planets fit places to live in--and I
know that Virgil Samms' chief lieutenant would have to be a man in four
thousand million...."
"What makes you think that?" he demanded sharply.
"You told me so yourself, indirectly. Who else in the known Universe
could possibly call him 'Sammy'? You are hard, of course, but you must
be so--and I never did like soft men, anyway. And you brawl in a good
cause. You are very much a _man_, my Conway; a real, _real_ man, and I
love you! Now, if they catch us, all right--we'll die together, at
least!" she finished, passionately.
"You're right, sweetheart, of course," he admitted. "I don't believe
that I _could_ really let you let me go, even though I know you ought
to," and their hands locked together even more firmly than before. "If
we ever get out of this jam I'm going to kiss you, but this is no time
to be taking off your helmet. In fact, I'm taking too many chances with
you in keeping your finger shields off. Snap 'em on, Clio mine; the
pirates ought to be getting fairly close by this time."
Hands released and armor again tight, Costigan went over to join Bradley
at 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 a
cruiser can get within range."
"I'll see if I can locate any of the pirates chasing up. If I do, it'll
be by accident; this little spy-ray isn't good for much except close
work. I'm afraid the first warning we'll have will be when they take
hold 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 to
destroy it unless they have to. Also, I imagine that Roger wants us
alive pretty badly. He has unfinished business with all three of us, and
I can well believe that his 'not particularly pleasant extinction' will
be even less so after the way we rooked him."
"I want you to do me a favor, Conway." Clio's face was white with horror
at the thought of facing again that unspeakable creature of gray. "Give
me a gun or something, please. I don't want him to touch me again while
I'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 nervous
and 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 away
again."
For minutes there was silence, Costigan surveying the ether in all
directions with his ultra-wave device. Suddenly he laughed, deeply and
with real enjoyment, and the others stared at him in surprise.
"No, I'm not crazy," he told them. "This is really funny; it had never
occurred to me that all these pirate ships are invisible to any ether
wave as long as they're using power. I can see them, of course, with
this sub-ether spy, but they can't see us! I knew that they should have
overtaken 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 a
minute so that they can see us! They're heading right into the
Fleet--they think they're safe, of course, but what a surprise they've
got coming to them!"
But it was not only the pirates who were to be surprised. Long before
the pirate ship had come within extreme visibility range of the
Triplanetary Fleet, it lost its invisibility and was starkly outlined
upon the lookout plates of the three fugitives. For a few seconds the
pirate craft seemed unchanged, then it began to glow redly, with a red
that seemed to become darker as it grew stronger. Then the sharp
outlines blurred, puffs of air burst outward, and the metal of the hull
became a viscous, fluid-like something, flowing away in a long, red
streamer into seemingly empty space. Costigan turned his ultra-gaze into
that space and saw that it was actually far from empty. There lay a vast
something, formless and indefinite even to his sub-ethereal vision; a
something into which the viscid stream of transformed metal plunged.
Plunged, and vanished.
Powerful interference blanketed his ultra-wave and howled throughout his
body; but in the hope that some part of his message might get through he
called Samms, and calmly and clearly he narrated everything that had
just happened. He continued his crisp report, neglecting not the
smallest detail, while their tiny craft was drawn inexorably toward a
redly impermeable veil; continued it until their lifeboat, still intact,
shot through that veil and he found himself unable to move. He was
conscious, he was breathing normally, his heart was beating; but not a
voluntary muscle would obey his will.
CHAPTER III
Fleet Against Planetoid
One of the newest and fleetest of the Law Enforcement Vessels of the
Triplanetary League, the heavy cruiser _Chicago_, of the North American
Division of the Tellurian Contingent, plunged stolidly through
interplanetary vacuum. For five long weeks she had patrolled her
allotted volume of space. In another week she would report back to the