VIII.
The days that followed were busy, indeed. Maynard found that the increase in rank not only gave him more pay, but more authority too. He was now entitled, by his rank of senior executive, to command one of the speedy, small destroyers, and his command was being prepared for him.
Unlike other, normal commands, the Asterite was being fitted with laboratory equipment, and was to be staffed with technical men. Maynard found himself literally swamped with paper work, and he was expected to supervise the installation of the equipment too. But he found time to dine with Kane twice, and the publisher extracted a promise from Maynard that the young officer should co-operate with him.
When the time for leaving was at hand, Guy made his parting with Laura Greggor at the Greggor home. Laura, realizing that her actions had not been too complimentary to him, was duly affectionate. Guy left there with his heart high and his spirit unbeatable.
He went home and packed, and as he was leaving for the Asterite, he paused and knocked on Joan's door. There was no answer, and so Maynard asked Mother Andrew to tell the girl good-by for him.
The elderly woman smiled cheerfully and said: "She knew she'd miss you, Guy. She left this letter. You're to read it after you get aboard your command."
"After?" asked Maynard. "Nonsense." He ripped the envelope and read:
Dear Guy:
I was right. You were lonely. Space must be lonely; even if for no other reason than its vastness. I've been told before, but I didn't realize. You've been lonely, Guy, and you will be lonely again, once you are back in space. I may not keep you from loneliness there, Guy, but please, never be lonely again when at home.
Joan.
"She's a fine girl," said Guy.
"Joan Forbes is one of the world's finest," said Mother Andrew positively. She was gratified to see him put the letter in an inside pocket as he left. What was in Guy's mind, she could not guess, but she believed that he was slightly muddled, for some reason.
Guy was confused. There was something wrong with the way things went, and he was not brilliant enough to understand the trouble. He gave it up as a major problem after trying several times to unravel the tangle.
Then, too, there was no time to think about it. His problem lost importance when displayed against the program he had set out to cover.
And as the miles and the days sped by, the problem at hand became the important thing, and the other problem died in dimness. The Asterite moved swiftly out into the region beyond the Belt, and into a completely untenanted region that was marked by absolutely nothing. On his astrogator's chart, a dotted line was labeled Neptune, but the planet itself was almost in quadrature with that position. Pluto was on the far side of Sol from him, and Saturn and Uranus were motes of unwinking light in almost-opposition to Neptune.
He was alone with his crew. They worked diligently, setting up the barrier-screen generators, and when they had them working to satisfaction, they tried variations.
The pilot worked upon their course day by day until it was corrected and stable; an orbit about a mythical point, the centripetal force of the outward-directed drive being in balance with the centrifugal force of their orbit. It made them a neat 1-G for stability, and did not cause them to cover astral units in seconds, or require continuous turnovers for deceleration and return, which would have been the case had no orbit been established.
Their work progressed. The neat, orderly arrangement of the scanning room became slightly haywire as they ran jury-rigged circuits in from the barrier-generators.
No petty quarreling marred their work. This was partly due to the training of the men at Patrol School, and partly due to Maynard's foresight in picking his crew. He had done a masterful job, for in this kind of job, the tedious nature of flight was amplified, and the lack of any variation in the day's duration, or of one day from the one past or the one coming next, made men rub each other the wrong way.
And part of it was due to the nature of the job, enigmatically. They were working on something entirely new. It was interesting to watch the results pile up, and to add to the diary of the experiment the day's observations and the opinions of the workers.
Then as the end came in sight, the inevitable irritation flared briefly as the technician tossed his chessboard aside with a snort and stamped to his quarters. It might have started a long chain of events if a real diversion had not presented itself, right in the technician's department.
Maynard heard the communicator snap on, and listened.
"Technician to Executive: Spacecraft approaching. Range extreme, about one point seven megs.”
"One million, seven hundred miles," said Maynard aloud. "Technician: can you get a reading?"
"The cardex is chewing on the evidence, sir," came the reply.
"Let me know as soon as you get the answer, Stan."
"O.K. Here it is. It is the Loki, a private craft owned by the publisher, Kane. Want the vital statistics?"
"Forget the color of eyes, weight, and fighting trim," smiled Maynard. "What's his course and velocity?"
"Deceleration at about 4-Gs, course within ten thousand miles of us. Velocity less than a thousand miles per second."
"How soon can we match her speed?"
"Depends upon their willingness. Perhaps ten or twelve hours will do it," answered Stan. "Get your astrogator on it."
"Executive to astrogator: Have you been listening?"
"Astrogator. You bet, and Stan's wild. Make it fourteen hours."
"Executive to pilot: Contact astrogator and follow course. Stan, will you try to contact them? I think it's your job, since they're at extreme range. Communications, you try with the standard sets, but I will not have any tinkering with the set-up in an effort to get another mile of range out of it."
"This is Stan. I have them on a weakling signals, they're asking for you."
"Tell 'em I'm here and we'll see 'em later. Check their course and prepare to match it. Then tell 'em to keep silence. That's an official order. Follow?"
"Check."
Fourteen hours later, Thomas Kane came across the intervening space in a tender and shook Maynard by the hand.
"Kane! How are you?"
"Fine. And you?"
"The same. But how did you find us?"
"Did a little ferreting."
"Did you know this is restricted space?"
"Sure, but forget it. How's the experiment?"
"Excellent."
"Mind telling all?"
"No. We set up a barrier on the Asterite, here, and have been testing and investigating it for months, as you know."
"Have you licked the main bugaboo?"
"We'll never lick that one. The drive, being a type of radiation, will not pass the barrier and so will not drive us. We can not discover a range of radiation that passes outward at all, though there is some minute leakage. The latter is absolutely insufficient to do any good."
"Too bad."
"It is. But the barrier is a good thing."
"Oh, it'll serve in spite of its difficulties."
"We developed the reverse, too. In addition to the barrier, we have what we call a disperser. It is the reverse of the barrier in every way."
"That's interesting. You can drive through that one?"
"Yes, but that's strictly impractical for space maneuvers. You see, both barriers are tenuous with regard to material bodies. A torpedo will pass without knowing that a barrier is there. And no ship can hope to match acceleration with a torpedo, roaring along at a hundred Gs or better. The barrier will keep a ship from detection, but it is sudden death to the ship if its presence is known. AutoMacs will burn the ship to nothing, torpedoes will enter and blast. Even misses with the AutoMacs cause trouble because their energy goes into the barrier-sphere and remains, reflecting off of the insides of the sphere until absorbed by the ship. The trick in use is to speed up and stab with torpedoes, and then continue on your course undetected until a safe distance is covered.
"The disperser screen is opposite. It will protect against AutoMacs or any other energy. It is detectable in itself, since it reflects anything sent against it, and also passes any inside energy right out through the screen. A ship with one of those is bear-meat. The AutoMacs wouldn't be used at all, a torpedo will be shot out to blast it from the universe. No, the disperser is useless."
"Do torpedoes work on the barrier?"
"Not too well," said Maynard. "You see, their aiming and steering circuits are useless until a target is set. Since the sphere is nonradiating, the only way you can fire a torpedo into a sub-ship is to aim it well and drive it into the barrier-screen by sheer aim. Once inside the screen, however, it will track the target. It will bar against drive-interferers, too. But take my word for it, there is nothing good about the disperser."
"How about combining them?"
"We had that idea, too," laughed Maynard. "No dice."
"Why? Seems to me—?"
"When the barrier is equal to the disperser, they cancel, believe it or not. If the barrier is put inside of the disperser, the disperser can not form since the barrier also bars the radiation that sets up the disperser screen. It will also bar the idea of establishing two barriers, too, by the way. On the other hand, if the disperser is put inside of the barrier, they can be held. But—and this is a big but, Kane, energy enters the barrier, and energy emanates from the ship, and there is a stress set up in the volume between the two spheres that sets up a counter force that blows the generators right out of this universe."
"You seem to have seen the whole works," smiled Kane.
"You know, I can't even see the idea of carrying this disperser equipment on a detector to go up in case of attack with AutoMacs, even if it could be made to establish instantly. Just takes up good room—the generators, I mean."
"What's the generating time?"
"Seventy-three milliseconds is the best we've been able to clock. That's a close screen, and it takes considerable stability in the generators to hold it. The best barriers for distance and power establish in point one nine eight seconds. Anything beyond that would require too much holding power, anything closer requires more generator stability."
"How does instability affect the screen?"
"Won't hold up. It collapses, and the build-up begins from zero again. That would be dangerous."
"You've been a busy boy," smiled Kane. "Also a definite credit to us all."
"Thanks."
"And how do you intend to operate this thing in practice?" asked Kane. "Not attack, in defense. I mean?"
"We've got the thing hitched to the finders," Maynard punched a switch. "Now, for instance, if anything that radiates comes within detector range of us, the barrier goes on. You'll see that everything is tacked down. We've been trying it out with the tenders, and the first time we did it, we went free and everything floated around the place in no-gravity. We're now protected, and if your pilot should kick his drive, we'd go free." Maynard adjusted three dials. "Now," he said, "the spotter is set to neglect any radiation from the Loki. We can set up many such channels, compensating for every ship in a flight, and yet have the whole flight protected in case of intrusion by another ship."
"You've got everything all set, haven't you?"
"Just about. If we had torpedoes, we could declare a private war on Mars."
"Then you're about finished?"
"Just about. Want to come in with us, or will you go in the Loki?"
"I'll ride with you, if you do not mind."
"Not at all," smiled Guy. "Executive to Communications: Inform Loki that Kane will return with us, and to make for Terra immediately."
"Check."
"We'll lose him," grinned Guy. "We're all set for 5-G."
"He'll take it easy, at three. I don't mind."
"Executive to Pilot: Take course for Terra at five!"
"Check!"
The Asterite turned and left the Loki far behind, and the velocity began to build up for the return trip. An hour later, with the Asterite bettering a hundred miles per second, the second incident occurred. It came as a complete surprise, since they were running through a restricted space, and Maynard remarked that it looked more like a public thoroughfare.
The finder-alarm clanged stridently, and immediately the ship went free. Men clutched at the hand-rails, and as they settled down, the technician took the communicator and started to speak excitably: "Technician to crew: Hold your hats! We're about to be passed by the Orionad!"
"Orionad? Holy Pete!" exploded Maynard. "See that this confounded screen doesn't fail. If it dies, so do we!"
"Huh?" asked Kane.
"This restricted space was created for the Orionad to return through. The nature of the restriction is such that anyone of official nature will be warned, and no civil traffic will be cleared through here. I am here because I didn't think the Orionad was due to return yet, and you came because you probably left without clearance. Right?"
"Right."
"Well, the Orionad believes that anybody who is in the restricted space is an enemy; spying upon their course. The consequences are clear."
"I hope they hold that screen," said Kane. "But what about Jimmy? My pilot?"
Maynard groaned. "He's several thousand miles behind, and any attempts to save him would fail. The Orionad will recognize no incoming signals. Nothing we can do will save him!" Maynard groaned, and then he brightened briefly. "Stan!" he called. "What's the chances of the Orionad missing the Loki?"
"Not too bad," said the technician. "They'll be running with their finder at cruising range, and they'll just touch us. Loki is sliding sidewise and may be out of range."
"We hope. Well, keep it going, fellows. This may be dangerous."
Time passed slowly and ponderously, and the Orionad caught up and passed the Loki without seeing or detecting the publisher's ship. Of this, Maynard was certain, since the celestial globe would have flared briefly had any action been taken against the Loki.
Then as the Orionad passed the Asterite, Maynard said: "Chalk us up a win, Kane. Your crate is safe."
"You're certain?"
"I am. Loki is now beyond range of our detector, which was souped up and is running at overload range. Orionad's detectors would be running at cruising range, which I happen to know is one quarter meg—two hundred and fifty thousand miles, to you."
"I see. Loki is on the far side of us from the Orionad, and their distance is such that their cruising range on the detector is less than the distance to Loki?"
"Right. And give us another ten minutes, and Orionad will go beyond detection range from us. Cruising range, that is."
"Mark yourself up a credit for this one, too," smiled Kane. "If you were an enemy, you could surely score one on the super ship itself."
"Sure could," agreed Guy enthusiastically.
Stan Norman said: "Technician to Executive: May I enter this encounter in the log?"
"Go ahead," said Guy. "They'll never believe us, though."
"Wouldn't a definite statement of their course and velocity be evidence?"
"Nope. I happen to know it. It was part of the maneuver secret that I was kidnaped for, remember."
"They'd just accuse you of telling tall tales that couldn't be substantiated," agreed Kane. "The crew and myself would be considered biased witnesses. I'd sure like to cinch the argument, though."
"So would I," said Guy thoughtfully.
"Do you trust this dingbat of yours? The barrier, I mean."
"Naturally."
"Then couldn't we really do something about it?"
"I don't know what—unless we splashed them with a bucket of paint. We have a gallon of bright red, wire-impregnating varnish. Executive to Pilot, Astrogator, Technician, and Observer: Get the course of the Orionad to the last millimeter. Both the intrinsic course and the course with respect to the Asterite. Then plot a free flight across their path to intercept within a thousand feet at thirty degrees angle. You know the standard attack problem as we have designed it; this is an applied problem, fellows. We're going to label the Orionad! And when they land, they're going to bear the Asterite's trademark, and they'll not know it until we make Terra. Like?"
"We're on it now," said Stan.
"And working in nine decimals," added Astrogator Cummins.
Technician Norman stretched his back, and started to gather his tools. "So far," he told Maynard, "every instrument we need has been checked and corrected to the last micron. Turretman Hastings and Machinist Trenton have converted one of the mounts to a spring-loaded gadget to propel a gallon-sized cannister of plastic material. Adkins has just cemented such a cylinder together and filled it with the wire gluck. I hope we hit the main personnel lock; it'll stay glucky until they land, and that wire-impregnating googoo ranks high among the things I wouldn't care to bathe in."
"It ranks top with me," said Maynard.
"To me, it is outranked only by chewing gum and rubber cement. But anyway, we're ready, all of us."
"That correct?" asked Maynard of the crew.
A series of "Check" shouts came in ragged confusion.
"O.K. Start going!"
With the instruments under personal supervision, the Asterite accelerated in a wide circle, and then corrected the side-vector component of her course.
Then for an hour solid, the Asterite accelerated on a die-true course. The components of the intersection were complex because the Orionad was in deceleration all the time, while the Asterite was in acceleration, and would be picking up speed until the barrier established; then the little destroyer would coast free, crossing the Orionad's course at the precise instant that the super ship came to the course of the free-flying Asterite.
The last driving moments of the Asterite's maneuver passed. The barrier went on, and the tiny ship went free. Time passed, and eventually the Orionad, long beyond detector range, came into the scope of the Asterite's souped-up finder.
Furious and extensive checking on the part of the crew resulted in the information that everything was going according to plan.
More time passed, and now within sight, the two ships were converging. They became tense, a single moment of failure would be death for all. But the barrier held, as they expected it to, and with lightning velocity, the two ships crossed at thirty degrees angle.
"Fire!" called the technician.
"Stick to your meters," drawled Turretman Hastings. "This is a job for an eyepiece and fingertip man. A man, may I say, with eyes in his fingertips. A man, may I add ... Ughh. There she goes, fellers!... who is capable of doing things based upon the excellency of his coordination."
"What a line of baloney," snorted Norman. "Did he follow through on that malarkey?"
"And, may I add," drawled Hastings, "a man who never claims ability beyond his capability? Who never claims that which he is unable to produce. The Orionad is now bearing a great, ugly, irregular circle of bright red, gooey paint."
"Are they aware?"
"Apparently not," said Technician Norman. "Also, the projectile we tossed at them is nondetectable and nonradiating, and was in the separation-space too briefly for observation. Another thing, we hit 'em in a blind spot."
"Blind spot?" asked Kane. "I didn't know she had any."
"She hasn't. What I meant was that we hit 'em in a bald spot. They'll not see the mess until they land. Pilot, how're we doing?"
"Fine. We're coasting away at a great rate."
"Well, get this barrier down as soon as you get out of range. Wait until you are out of operating range, but don't worry about extreme range unless you think they smell a crate full of mice."
"Right-o."
"You know, Kane, that was fun, sort of. But I hate to think of what they will say back home. I'm liable to get busted right down to a junior aide again."
"They can't break you for that kind of demonstration," said Kane.
"Yes they can. I'm still at the mercy of my superiors."
Kane smiled. "No, you're not. I forgot to tell you—or you didn't let me get to the point of my coming. But, Guy Maynard, since the successful establishment of the Plutonian shield, you are now a sector commander. That gives you—"
"I'm what?" asked Maynard.
"A sector commander. Here, if you don't believe me," and Kane handed Guy a tiny box. Guy opened it, and found lapel-insignia; the circling comet of the sector commander. In Kane's other hand was an envelope stamped "Official" which contained official notice of his advance in rank.
"That puts you in the upper bracket," said Kane. "You are now on your own, Guy. Any demonstrations you may give will be viewed officially, and this is no longer a prank, but a self-assertion; a very definite evidence of your ability to accomplish the difficult."
The barrier dropped, and the celestial globe traced the last indication of the receding Orionad to the surface of the clear, glassite sphere.
Maynard touched his hat in salute to the Orionad's last glimmer and said: "Hi!”
