CHAPTER II
Rescue in Space
Not very far behind them, Captain Jack Turner of the Solar Guard was following the little cruiser grimly. When it leaped in acceleration to five gravities, he assumed that they knew he was following them and decided that stealth was no longer necessary.
He crammed his power on, getting a full six gravities out of the Guardship. From time to time he considered the problem that confronted him. His—well, she was not his fiancée, but she meant more to him than the word 'friend' implies—was in possession of material labeled contraband. Nothing of intrinsic value, true—normally it would never have been missed—but it had been removed from the specimen files of the Solar Laboratory, and that in itself was a breach of the law.
There seemed to be a dog-in-the-manger effect here. The government physicists might never get around to looking at the thing regularly, so busy they were. Yet they could not permit any other experimenter to do more than study the peculiar thing through a plate glass specimen case.
Turner's mind rejected the problem. He did not know the circumstances wholly. His matter-synchronized detector told him that the crystal had embarked on the spaceliner from Venus to Terra, that somehow it had left the liner and was now decelerating in such a back-vector that he suspected one of the Jovian satellites as its destination.
The problem of what he would actually do, he disregarded. Up to the time he confronted the girl he could view the problem dispassionately and impersonally. Whether his love for the girl would overcome his sworn duty—he'd face that when it came.
Watching his range integrator carefully, he set the autopilot to bring him into contact with the fleeing ship and then sat back to relax. It was hard on the human system to hit it up at six gravities, though everything possible had been done to make the flyer comfortable under such accelerations.
Even so, loaded with gravanol, which added tonus to the muscles and prevented the draining of blood from the nerve and brain centers, the record was held by a small, wiry fellow named Tom Whitcomb: Eight gravities for four hours before blackout was his mark.
Whitcomb, of course, was merely out for a record and did not have the emotional impetus of a project to steel his system with adrenaline.
The Guardship approached the fleeing craft and Turner dropped his acceleration to match the other ship. He sent a flaming beam at them that racketed against the hull and flared greenish hell through the observation ports and rang all the alarms in the ship. His audiostrictor beam caught the hull and his voice, as he spoke into the microphone, made the little cruiser ring to his stentorian tones.
"Guardship under Turner!" rattled the ship's hull in a controlled vibration that shook the eardrums. "Drop to one gravity! Prepare to submit to search!"
In the other ship, Forrest shrugged. "There's your little pal now," he said.
Ellen looked at him, white-lipped. "What are you going to do?"
He laughed as he flipped the power switch down to one gravity. "This is a personal cruiser," he said. "We have nothing to fight back with other than harsh words and a set of knives in the galley. I should dislike to have this crate riddled by a Guardsman. I should even further dislike the possible discontinuation of my checkered career. We'll see your little chum."
"He'll help me," she said with a positive air.
"That's swell." He grinned wolfishly. "I wish you both luck. But I'm sensible enough to think that it might be better if we could circumvent him."
Forrest smiled wearily. There was no reason to tell the girl that laws were laws and therefore inflexible regardless of the instantaneous injustice to an occasional individual. By and large, laws worked for overall justice or they would not be laws. He rested easily, getting up only once to retrieve the girl's heavy blaster, which he inspected and dropped into his pocket idly.
Then the Guardship was upon them—close enough to reach out and take hold of the little cruiser with tractor beams. The spacelocks came together under Turner's manipulations of the beams and both spacelocks clanged open.
Jack Turner swallowed deeply. Whatever the score at this point, he was confronted with the problem of his life. "You surrender?" he demanded as he entered the control room.
"You're in," said Forrest cryptically. "Now what?"
"The zonium crystal," stated Turner shortly. "I'll take that first. It is the property of the laboratory."
Ellen looked quietly at him. "What about him?" she asked, indicating Forrest.
"Well?" he said shortly.
"He stole it from me," she said plaintively.
"But you stole it from Venus," said Turner. "Under the law, you are conspiring to deprive the government of its rightful property."
"I presume that I am listed as a criminal?" asked Ellen, more plaintively.
Turner blinked. "What can I do?" he asked.
Ellen looked pleading. "Dad discovered zonium," she said. "Dad predicted it and spent six months producing the single crystal we have. Then because of laws, Dad was deprived of the possible benefits of his study and work. Is that fair?"
"Who is to judge fairness?" asked Turner. "It has been the law for seventy years that any product of the uranium piles is the exclusive property of the government. That is because danger might attend any individual experimentation on unknown materials.
"If you do not know nuclear history I can tell you that Tompkins and Clagone nearly blasted Terra off of the map because they inadvertently stacked a couple of transuranic elements side by side. To prevent such mishaps the law was set up. I ask you, Ellen, do you know anything about zonium?"
"Not much excepting its principal properties."
"Then you might be meddling with something that could destroy Sol."
"Not likely," she retorted.
"So?" asked Turner with a smile. "Remember that the unpredictable effects start with the uranium series. Fission occurs in several of the uranium-rare-earth metals, plutonium and the uranium isotopes two hundred thirty-four and two hundred thirty-five. Number ninety-seven was never known until the uranium pile made it, you know, and it, like other elements of the zero group, is an inert gas.
"But it is a gas which exhibits magnetic properties. Number ninety-eight has been known to combine with all of the acid elements. And number ninety-nine is naturally radioactive, breaking down to protoactinium by a double emission of alpha particles. Unless you know what to do with zonium how can you predict its behaviour?"
"Is it right to bury the results of a man's lifework?" demanded Ellen.
Guardsman Turner faced Jim Forrest. "What can I do?" he asked simply. "My affection and my duty are opposing. I understand both viewpoints. It is hard to see a life work set aside by officialdom, rules and what might seem like bureaucracy. On the other hand I am a member of the Law. I cannot turn traitor, yet I cannot harm Ellen. I would like to retain both Ellen and my self respect."
"My father—" began Ellen harshly.
"Was, after all, working for the Lab," interrupted Turner. "He was amply paid."
"Yes," she said bitterly. "A laboratory fee. You know very well that every technician in the Lab that discovers something useful is given a royalty in addition. That's what I've been cheated of!"
"They may yet investigate it," said Turner.
"I'd prefer the rewards before I'm a hundred years old," said Ellen.
"Look," said Turner after a moment's thought. "Admittedly the government lab ignored zonium for more important things. The government was not interested in zonium until it was stolen. But consider—this crystal has been stolen by people who have experimental experience.
"The government will wonder just why it is so important that an individual will break interplanetary law to possess it. That is a question that will probably force someone to work on it. Then you can gain the benefits legally."
Ellen considered that for a moment. It was more or less true. "Then tell me how it is to be returned?" she asked.
"That is easy. I can make you a temporary deputy of the Solar Guard. You return the crystal to headquarters. I continue to pursue the thief."
Forrest, who had been sitting easily in his chair watching the play of personalities, suddenly sat up and looked at Jack Turner pointedly.
"You mean me?" he asked.
"I do."
"That's a nice trick," snapped Forrest. "Why not deputize me and go hunting her?"
"Because you have nothing to lose by jumping deputization," said Captain Turner shortly. "Miss Haynes has every reason in the world to do exactly as I said. As for the true thief, my report will state honestly that I located the crystal in this ship—your craft, Forrest. I will also state that it is my belief that Miss Haynes was not here of her own free will."
"She came here unasked," snapped Forrest.
The Guardsman nodded. "So did I," he said easily. "And possibly for the same reason. To return the zonium crystal to its rightful owner."
Forrest laughed harshly. "Nice sophistry," he said with a sneer. "You'll omit the fact that your definition differs from that of Miss Haynes as to the term 'rightful owner'? She thinks it belongs to her, you know."
"When she returns the crystal," said Turner, "her intent will be shown by act regardless of her statement—or your statements for that matter."
Forrest smiled. "The scales of justice seem to have become unbalanced by the added weight of a lipstick," he said cynically. "I hope you two will be very unhappy together."
"Accusing members of the Guard will get you little," said Turner.
"I seem to have been got already," grunted Forrest. "Frankly, why don't you return the crystal and let Miss Haynes pursue me? As any pursuit is going to be a laughing matter since you've already caught me, I'd prefer to be pursued by Miss Haynes."
"No thank you," replied the girl. "We'll do it as Captain Turner suggests."
"And he'll chase me all the way to Ganymede while we're living in the same ship—with his crate fastened on to mine?"
"That need not be mentioned."
"Well, I'll darn well mention it!" snapped Forrest.
"You can't prove it," she told him.
"Ellen," said Turner to the girl, "you go into my ship and get the tender ready. You'll take off and head for Mars in the tender, which will be a little rigorous but not too uncomfortable nor dangerous.
"Once you reach Mars, you contact Guard Headquarters at the spaceport.
"Your arriving with the ship will give you amnesty until you can see General Harris and I'll write an official letter proving your deputization. Check?"
Ellen Haynes nodded. She turned to Jim Forrest and said, "It doesn't make much difference who does the work on zonium so long as it is done. At least it will not be done by you.
"And when it is done I'll get my legal share, which can't be claimed for any work done by Jim Forrest." Then she turned to Captain Turner. "Be careful," she said sincerely. "He's a glib operator."
"He'll not get away from me," said Turner.
Ellen Haynes took the crystal out of the cupboard and tucked it under one arm. Since she was still in space suit she merely flipped the helmet bowl over her head and left the pilot room to make Turner's tender ready for a spacehop.