Spacehounds of IPC

E >> Edward Elmer Smith >> Spacehounds of IPC

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"Not so good--can't hold out forever at that rate. Shove out the
receptor screens to the limit and drive 'em. They figure a top of sixty
thousand, but we ought to pick up a little extra from that blaze out
there. Drive 'em full out or up to sixty-five, whichever comes first.
Can't seem to crush his screens, so I guess we'll have to try something
else," and a thoughtful expression came over his face as he slowly
extended his hand toward another switch, with a questioning glance at
Westfall.

"Better not do that yet, Norman. Use that only as a last resort, after
everything else has failed."

"Yeah--I'm scared to death of trying it, and it isn't necessary yet. He
must have an open slit somewhere to work through, just as we have. I'll
feel around for it a while."

"Is there any way of hetrodyning the new visiray upon the exploring
frequency?"

"Hm ... m.... Never thought of that--it would be nice, too....
I think we can do it, too. Watch 'em, Quince, and holler if they start
anything."

He abandoned his desk and established the necessary connections between
the visiray apparatus and the controls of his board. There was a fierce
violet-white glare from the plate as he closed the switch, and he leaped
back with his hands over his eyes, temporarily blinded.

"Wow, that's hot stuff!" he exclaimed. "It works, all x, to the queen's
taste," as he donned his heavy ray-goggles and resumed his place.

After making certain that the visiray was precisely synchronized and
phased with the searching frequency, he built up the power of that
beam until it was using twenty thousand kilofranks. Then, by delicately
manipulating the variable condensers and inductances of his sensitive
shunting relay circuits, he slowly shifted that frightful rod of energy
from frequency to frequency, staring into the brilliant blankness of his
micrometer screen as he did so. After a few minutes of search the screen
darkened somewhat, revealing the image of the Jovian globe. Brandon
instantly shifted into that one channel the entire power of his attack;
steadying the controls to bring the sphere of the Jovians into the
sharpest possible focus, knowing that he had found the open slit and
that through it there was pouring upon the enemy the full power of his
terrible weapon.

In the fraction of a second before the Jovians could detect the attack
and close the slit, he saw a portion of the wall of their vessel flare
into white heat and literally explode outward in puffs and gouts of
flaming, molten metal and of incandescent gases. But the thrust, savage
as it was, had not been fatal and the enemy countered instantly. Now
that the crushing force of the full-coverage attack was lessened for a
moment, through another slit there poured a beam of energy equal to the
Terrestrials' own--a beam of such intense power that the outer screen
of the _Sirius_ flared from red through the spectrum, to and beyond the
violet, and went black in less than a second, and the inner screen had
almost gone down before Brandon's lightning hands could restore the
complete coverage that so effectively blanketed the forces of the enemy.

"Well, we're back to the _status quo_," announced Brandon, calmly. "It's
a good gag they didn't have time to locate our working slit--if they had
pushed that stuff through our open channel, we'd have gotten frizzled up
some around the edges. As it was, we got the edge on that exchange--take
it from your Uncle Dudley, Quince, that bird knows that he's been
nudged!"

* * * * *

Again he searched the entire band for an opening, but could find none.
The enemy had apparently retired into a tightly closed shell of energy.
The small vessel no longer struggled, nor even moved, but was merely
resisting passively.

"Not an open channel, not even one for him to work through--he can't
wiggle. Well, that won't get him anything. We're so much bigger than
he is, that we can outlast him and will get him some time, since he's
bound to run out of power before we do. I don't believe he can receive
anything, sealed up as he is, and he can't have accumulators enough more
efficient than ours to make up the difference, can he, Quince?"

"It is quite possible. For instance, although we have never heard of any
progress being made along such lines, it has been pointed out repeatedly
that synthesis of a radio-active element of very high atomic weight
would theoretically yield an almost perfect accumulator--one many
thousands of times as efficient as ours in mass-to-energy ratio. Then,
too, you realize, of course, that there is a bare possibility that
intra-atomic energy may not be absolutely impossible."

"Nix on that, Quince. I'll stand for a lot, but not for that last idea!
It's hard to say that anything's impossible, of course, except things
made so by definition or by being contrary to observational facts, but
the best work shows that intra-atomic energy is just about as impossible
as anything can well be. It has been shown pretty conclusively that all
ordinary matter is already in its most stable state, so that work must
be done upon any ordinary atom to decompose it. Besides, if he had
either radioactive accumulators or intra-atomic energy, he would have
cut us up long ago. Nope, the answer is that he's probably yelled for
help and is trying to hold out until it gets here," was Brandon's
rejoinder.

"What can we do about it?" asked Quince.

"Don't know yet. I do know, though, that we aren't half as ready for
trouble as I thought we were. There's a dozen things I want to do that
I can't because we haven't got the stuff. Don't say 'I told you so,'
either--I know you did! You're the champion ground-and-lofty thinker of
the century. Alcantro!

"Here!"

"Round up the gang, will you, and figure me out a screen and a set of
meters that will indicate an open band? We lose too much time feeling
around anyhow, and we're too apt to take one on the chin while we're
doing it. Also, you ought to make it so it'll shoot a jolt into the
opening, while you're at it," said Brandon.

"We shall begin at once," and the massive Martian as he replied, stepped
over to the calculating machine.

"Well, Quince, we can't do much to him this way--he's crawled into a
hole and pulled the hole in after him. Gosh, I wish we had more stuff!"

"After all, we have everything whose necessity and practicability could
have been foreseen in the light of our information. We can, of course,
go further."

"You chirped it! But we can't let things ride this way or we'll get our
hair singed. We'll have to decorate him with the grand slam, I guess."

"Yes, it seems as though the time for emergency measures has arrived."

"Put everything on the center of the band?"

"That is probably the best frequency to use in a case of this kind."

"He can't control, so we'll push him down close to the ground before
we go to work on him--so we don't have so far to fall if anything goes
screwy with the works. Here's hoping nothing gives away!"

The _Sirius_, almost against the flaming screens of the Jovian, and both
vessels very close to the surface of the satellite, Brandon tested the
power leads briefly, adjusted dials and coils, then touched the button
which actuated the relays--relays which in turn drove home the gigantic
switches that launched a fearsome and as yet untried weapon. Instantly
released, the full seven hundred thousand kilofranks of their stupendous
batteries of accumulators drove into the middle frequency of the
attacking band, and Brandon's heart was in his mouth as he stared into
the plate to see what would happen. He saw! Everything in the _Sirius_
held fast, and under the impact of the inconceivable plane of force, the
screens of the enemy vessel flared instantly into an even more intense
incandescence and in that same fleeting instant went down, and all
defenses vanished as the metal sphere fell apart into two halves, as
would an apple under the full blow of a broad-axe.

Brandon quickly shut off his power and stared in relief into the central
compartment of the globular ship of space, now laid open, and saw there
figures, one or two of which were moving weakly. As he looked, one of
these feebly attempted to raise a peculiar, tubular something toward a
helplessly fettered body. Even as Brandon snatched away the threatening
weapon with a beam of force, he recognized the captive.

"Great Cat, there's Breckenridge!" he gasped, and directed a lifting
beam upon the bound and unconscious prisoner. Rapidly, but carefully, he
was brought through the double airlock and into the control room, where
his shackles were cut away and where he soon revived under vigorous and
skilful treatment.

"Any more of you in there? Did I hit any of you with that beam?"
demanded Brandon, intensely, as soon as Breckenridge showed signs of
understanding.

"King's in there somewhere, and there's a Callistonian human being that
you mustn't kill," the chief pilot replied, weakly and with great effort
in every word. "Don't believe that you hit anybody direct, but the shock
was pretty bad." Having delivered his message, he lay back, exhausted.

"All x. Crown, give me a squad...."

"Not on your life!" barked the general. "This is my job and I'll do it
myself. Your job is fighting the _Sirius_--stay with it!"

"Not in seven thousand years--I'm in on this, too," Brandon protested,
but was decisively overruled by Newton.

"You belong right here at this board, since no one else can handle it
the way you can. Stay here!" he commanded.

"All right," grudgingly assented the physicist, and held the _Sirius_
upright, with her needle-sharp stern buried a few feet deep in the
ground.

He watched the wreckage jealously while Crowninshield and forty helmeted
men issued from the service door in the lower ultra-light compartment
and advanced upon the two halves of the enemy vessel. As no hostile
demonstrations ensued, scaling ladders were quickly placed and with
weapons at the alert the police boarded the hemispheres, manacled the
still helpless beings visible, and, after laying down a fog of
stupefying gas, vanished into compartments beyond the metal partitions.
After a short time they reappeared and climbed down the scaling ladders,
carrying several inert forms, and Brandon spoke into his transmitter.

"King all x, Crowninshield?"

"I think so. Not being in the control room he was not as badly shocked
by the passage of the beam as were Breckenridge and those you saw. The
things in the other rooms were about ready to fight, so we gave them a
little whiff of tritylamin, but Captain King will be as good as ever in
a few minutes."

"Fine business!" The police entered the _Sirius_, the service doors
clanged shut, and Brandon turned to Westfall.

"While they're coming up, I guess I'll pick up Perce and Miss Newton.
We'd better get them aboard and beat it, while we're all in one piece!"

But even before he could send out the exploring beam of his
communicator, the voice of Stevens came from the receiver.

"Hi, Brandon and Westfall! We've watched the whole show.
Congratulations, fellows! Welcome to Ganymede! You are in our
valley--we're upstream from you about three hundred meters; just below
the falls, on the meadow side."

"All x," Brandon acknowledged. "We saw you. Come on out where we can
pick you up. We've got to get away from here, and get away fast!"

"We'll carry off the pieces of that ship, too, Quince--we may be able to
get a lot of pointers from it," and Brandon swung mighty tractor beams
upon the severed halves of the Jovian vessel, then extended a couple of
smaller rays to meet the two little figures racing across the smooth
green meadow toward the _Sirius_.

CHAPTER X

Among Friends at Last

The time for the landing of the _Sirius_ was drawing near, and the
castaways upon Ganymede had donned their only suits of earthly clothing,
instead of the makeshifts of mole-skin, canvas, and leather they had
been wearing so long. Thorns and underbrush had pierced and torn their
once natty outing costumes, and sparks and flying drops of molten metal
from Stevens' first crude forges had burned in them many gaping holes.

"I did the best I could with them, Steve, but they look pretty crumby,"
Nadia wrinkled her nose as she studied the anything but invisible seams,
darns, and staring patches everywhere so evident, both in her own
apparel of gray silk and in the heavy whipcord clothing of her
companion.

"You did a great job, considering what you had to work with," he
reassured her. "Besides, who cares about a few patches? I feel a lot
more civilized in my own clothes, don't you?"

"Well ... yes," she admitted. "They're silk, anyway, even if they don't
look like much, and I'm just reveling in the feel of them next to me
after the horrible, rough, scratchy things I've been wearing. See
anything yet?"

"Not yet." Stevens had been scanning the heavens with a pair of
binoculars. "That doesn't mean much, though, as they'll be just about in
the sun and they'll be coming like a scared dog. Might as well put away
these glasses--we probably won't be able to see them until they're right
on top of us."

"What shall we take with us?"

"Don't know--nothing, probably, since they must have a campaign already
mapped out. I'd like to salvage a lot of this junk, but I'm afraid we
won't be able to. I'm going to take my bow and arrows, though, aren't
you?"

"Absolutely! That's one thing that's better than anything I ever had on
Earth. This bow of mine is perfect."

"There they are! Three rousing cheers! Say, but that old hulk looks good
to me!"

"Doesn't she, though!" cried Nadia, vibrant with excitement. "You know,
Steve. I've hardly dared really to believe it until this very minute. Oh
look! What's that?"

The _Sirius_ had stopped in midair and they could see, far in the
distance, the tiny sphere of the Jovians, rushing to the attack.

"Oh, how horrible!" cried the girl, her voice breaking. "I'm afraid,
Steve...."

"You needn't be, ace. I've told you they won't go off half-cocked as
long as Westfall is on the job. They're ready for anything, or they
wouldn't be here--but just the same I wish that they had that Titanian
mirror and a couple of those bombs!"

In a moment more the Jovian plane of force was launched, the powerful
ray-screens flared into white-hot, sparkling defense, and the battle was
on. Held spell-bound as the castaways were by that spectacular duel, yet
Stevens' trained mind warned him of the perils of their position.

"Grab your bow and we'll beat it!" and he rapidly led her away from the
steel structures to an open hillside, well away from any projection,
tree, or sharp point of rock. "If that keeps up very long, we're going
to see some real fireworks, and I don't know whether there will be
enough left of our plant here to salvage or not. Everything is grounded,
of course, but I don't believe that ordinary grounds will amount to much
against what's coming."

"What _are_ you talking about?" demanded Nadia.

"Look!" he replied, pointing, and as he spoke, a terrific bolt of
lightning launched itself from the incandescent screen of the Jovian
vessel upon their slender ultra-radio tower, which subsided instantly
into a confused mass of molten and twisted metal.

* * * * *

As the power of the beams was increased and as the combatants drew
nearer and nearer the ground, the lightning display grew ever more
violent. Well below the canyon as the warring vessels were, the
power-plant and penstock did not suffer at all and only a few discharges
struck the _Forlorn Hope_--discharges which were carried easily to
ground by the enormous thickness of her armor--but every prominent
object for hundreds of yards below the _Hope_ was literally blasted out
of existence. Radio tower, directors and fittings; trees, shrubs, sharp
points of rock--all were struck again and again; fused, destroyed,
utterly obliterated by the inconceivable energy being dissipated by
those impregnable screens of force. Even almost flat upon the ground as
the spectators were, each individual hair upon their heads strove
fiercely to stand erect, so heavily charged was the very air. Stevens'
arm was blue for days, such was Nadia's grip upon it, and she herself
could scarcely breathe in that mighty arm's constriction--but each was
conscious only of that incredibly violent struggle, of that duel to the
death being waged there before their eyes with those frightful weapons,
hitherto unknown to man. They saw the _Sirius_ triumphant, and Stevens
led the dancing girl back into their dwelling of steel.

"Danger's all over now. Radio's gone, but we should fret a lot about
that. It has done its stuff--we can use the communicators. And now,
sweetheart, I'm going to kiss you--for the first time in seven
lifetimes."

Locked in each other's arms, they watched the scene until Stevens
thought it time to send his message. Then, running hand in hand toward
the huge space-cruiser, they were snatched apart and drawn up toward the
double airlocks of the main entrance. Pressure gradually brought up to
normal, they were ushered into the control room, where Nadia glanced
around quickly and almost took her father off his feet by her
tempestuous rush into his arms.

"Oh, Daddy darling. I just knew you'd come along! I haven't seen
you for a million years!" she exclaimed, rapturously. "And Bill,
too--wonderful!" as she fervently embraced a young man wearing the
uniform of a lieutenant of Interplanetary Police. "Ouch, Bill--you're
breaking all my ribs!"

"Well, you cracked three of mine. Maybe you don't know how husky you
are, but you've got a squeeze like a full grown boa constrictor!" He
held her off at arms' length and studied her with admiration. "Gee,
it's fine to see you again, Sis. You're looking great, too--I think
I'll bring my girl out here to live. You always were a knockout, but
now you're the loveliest thing I ever saw!"

He made his way through the group surrounding Stevens, while Nadia and
her father talked earnestly.

"I'm Bill Newton. Thanks," he said, simply, holding out his hand, which
was taken in a bone-crushing grip.

"Bring him over here, Bill!" Nadia called before Stevens could find
a reply.

"I don't know how to say anything, Stevens," the officer continued, in
embarrassment, as the two men turned to obey the summons. "She's a good
kid, and we think a lot of her. We'd about given her up. We.... She....
Oh, rats, what's the use? You know what I mean. You're there, Stevens,
like a...."

"Clam it, ace!" Stevens interrupted. "I get you, to nineteen decimals.
And you don't half know just what a good kid she really is. She's the
reason we're here--we were down pretty close to bed-rock for a while,
she stood up when I wilted. She's got everything. She...."

"Clam it yourself, Steve! Don't believe a word of it, Dad and Bill.
_Wilt_!" Nadia's voice dripped scorn. "Why, he di...."

"Please!" Newton's voice was somewhat husky as he silenced the clamor of
the three young people, all talking at once. "I will not embarrass you
further by trying to say something that no words can express. You told
me that you would take care of her, and I learn that you have done so."

"I did what I could, but most of the credit belongs to her, no matter
what she says," Stevens insisted. "Anyway, sir, here she is; alive, well
and ... unharmed," and his eyes bore unflinchingly the piercing gaze of
the older man, who was reassured and pleased by what he read therein.
"One thing I want to say right now, though, that may make you feel like
canceling the welcome. I loved Nadia even before the _Arcturus_ was
attacked, and since then, coming to know her as I have, the feeling
hasn't lessened any."

"Nadia has already told me all about you two," said her father, "and the
welcome stands. If you could take care of her as well as you have done
since you left the _Arcturus_, I have no doubt of your ability to take
care of her for life. We have been examining the work you have done
here, son, and the more I saw of it the more amazed I became that you
could have succeeded as you did. We are deeply indebted.... Just a
minute! There's my call--I'm wanted in Fifteen. I'll see you again
directly."

"Hi, Norm!" Stevens further relieved the surcharged atmosphere.
"As soon as you and Quince can leave those controls come over and see us,
will you?"

"All x--coming up!" sounded Brandon's deep and pleasant bass, and the
two rescuers, who had tactfully avoided the family reunion, came over
and greeted the third of their triumvirate.

"Ho, Perce--you look fit." Brandon ran an expert hand over Stevens'
arm and shoulder. "Looks as if he might last a round or two, doesn't
he, Quince?"

"You are looking fine, Steve. Neither of you appear any the worse for
your experiences. So this is Nadia? We have heard of you, Miss Newton."

"I believe that, knowing Dad," she replied. "Thanks, both of you, for
digging us out. I've heard about you two, and I'm going to kiss you
both."

Westfall, the silent and reserved, was taken aback, but Brandon met her
more than half-way.

"All x, Nadia--payment in full received and hereby acknowledged," he
laughed, as he allowed her feet to return to the floor. "Even if it was
some stout lads from Mars and Venus that did all the work we'll take the
reward--especially since Alcantro and Fedanzo couldn't feel even such a
high-voltage salute as that one was, and I can't picture you kissing a
Venerian even if you could get to him. Whenever you get lost again, be
sure to let us know, now that you've got our address. If I know Perce at
all, you've heard of us 'til you're sick of it and us--it's a weakness
of his--talking too much."

"Why, it's no such th...." began Nadia, but broke off as an aide came up
and saluted smartly.

"Pardon me, but General Crowninshield requests that Doctor Brandon,
Doctor Westfall, and Doctor Stevens join the council in Lounge Fifteen
as soon as convenient." He saluted again and turned away.

"Yes, that's right, folks--we've got to take a lot of steps, fast--see
you later," and Brandon, taking each of the other two by an arm, marched
them away toward the designated assembly room.

* * * * *

There, already seated at a long table, were Czuv, King, and
Breckenridge, all fully recovered, engaged in earnest conversation with
Newton and Crowninshield. Alcantro and Fedanzo, the Martian scientists,
were listening intently, as were the two Venerians Dol Kenor and Pyraz
Amonar. The eyes of the three newcomers, however, did not linger upon
the group at the table, but were irresistibly drawn to one corner of the
room, where six creatures lay in the heaviest manacles afforded by the
stores of the Interplanetary Police. Not only were they manacled, but
each was facing a ray-projector, held by a soldier whose expression
showed plainly that he would rather press the lethal contact than not.

"Oh--those the things we're fighting?" Brandon stopped at the threshold
and stared intently at the captive hexans. Goggling green eyes glaring
venomously, they were lying quiet, but tense; mighty muscles ready to
burst into berserk activity should the attention of a guard waver for
a single instant.

But little more than half as large as the savage creatures with whom
Stevens had fought in the mountain glade upon Ganymede, the hexans
resembled those aborigines only as civilized men might resemble gigantic
primordial savages of our own Earth. Brandon's gaze went from short,
powerful legs up a round, red body to the enormous, freakish double pair
of shoulders, with its peculiar universal jointing. From the double
shoulders sprang four limbs, the front pair of which were undoubtedly
arms, terminating in large, but fairly normal, hands. The intermediate
limbs were longer than the legs and were much more powerful than the
arms, and ended in members that were very evidently feet and hands
combined. What in a human being would be the back of the hand was the
sole of the foot--when walking upon that foot the long and dexterous
thumb and fingers were curled up, out of the way and protected from
injury, in the palm of the hand. From the monstrous shoulders there
rose a rather long and very flexible, yet massive and columnar neck,
supporting a head neither human nor bestial--a head utterly unknown to
Terrestrial history or experience. The massive cranium bespoke a highly
developed and intelligent brain, as did the three large and expressive,
peculiar, triangular eyes. The three sensitive ears were very long,
erect, and sharply pointed. Each was set immediately above an eye, one
upon each side of the head and one in front. Each ear was independently
and instantly movable in any direction, to catch the faintest sound.
The head, like the body and limbs, was entirely devoid of hair. The
horns, so prominent in the savages Stevens had seen, were in this highly
intelligent race but vestigial--three small, sharp, black protuberances
only an inch in length, one surmounting each ear, outlining the lofty
forehead. The nose occupied almost the whole middle of the face and was
not really a nose--it developed into a small and active proboscis. The
chin was receding almost to the point of disappearance, so that the
mouth, with its multiple rows of small, sharp, gleaming-white teeth, was
almost hidden under the face instead of being a part of it. Such were
the hexans, at whom the Big Three stared in undisguised amazement.

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