Spacehounds of IPC
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Edward Elmer Smith >> Spacehounds of IPC
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"Funny, isn't it, sweetheart, how little we know what to expect? Just
think how surprised I would have been, when I left this room, if I had
been told that I would have a husband before I got back to it!"
Breckenridge's first thought was for his precious triplex automatic
chronometer, which he found, of course, "way off"--six and three-tenths
seconds fast. Having corrected the timepiece from that of the _Sirius_,
he immersed himself in the other delicate instruments of his
department--and he was easy to find from that time on.
Overcrowded as the _Sirius_ already was, it was decided that the
original complement of the _Arcturus_ should occupy their former
quarters aboard her during the return trip. To this end, corps of
mechanics set to work upon the salvaged hulk. Heavy metal work was no
novelty to the Callistonian engineers and mechanics, and the _Sirius_
also was well equipped with metal-working machines and men. Thus the
prow was welded; armored, insulating air-breaks were built along the
stern, which was the plane of hexan cleavage, electrical connections
were restored; and lastly, a set of the great Vorkulian wall-screen
generators, absorbers, and dissipators was installed, with sufficient
accumulator capacity for their operation. Director Newton studied this
installation in silence for some time, then went in search of Brandon.
"I hadn't considered the possibility of being attacked again
between 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 than
having any more of us killed."
"With that outfit they'll be as safe as we will," the scientist assured
him. "They can stand as much grief as we can. We'll do the fighting for
the whole outfit from here, and anything we meet will have to take us
before they can touch them. So they had better ride it there, where
they'll have passengers' accommodations and be comfortable. As to
danger, I don't know what to expect. They may all be gone and they may
not. 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 flowing
into the _Arcturus_ from the cosmic receptors of her sister ship, the
passengers and their new possessions were moved into their former
quarters. There was a brief ceremony of farewell, the doors of the
airlocks were closed, the careful check-out was gone through, and the
driving projectors of the _Sirius_ lifted both great vessels up the
shaft, slowly and easily. And after them, as long as they could be seen,
stared the thousands of Callistonians who thronged the great shaft's
floor. Many of the spectators were not, strictly speaking, Callistonians
at all. They were really Europans, born and reared in that hidden city
which was to have been the last stronghold of Callisto's civilization.
In that throng were hundreds who had never before seen the light of the
sun nor any of the glories of the firmament, hundreds to whom that brief
glimpse was a foretaste of the free and glorious life which was soon to
be 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 their
stateroom Nadia's supple waist writhed in the curve of Stevens' arm as
she 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 going
over there every day on a tractor beam to work, as Norman suggested?"
"Not on your sweet young life!" he exclaimed. "Norm thought he was
kidding somebody, but it registered zero. It gives me the pip to loaf
around 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 one
honeymoon 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 way
from 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 of
Delray's chocolates, and we both really should catch up on eating fancy
cooking. Speaking of eating, isn't that the second call for dinner? It
_is_!" and they went along the narrow hall toward the elevator. To these
two the long journey was to seem all too short.
Long though the voyage was, it was uneventful. The occupants of the
two vessels were in constant touch with each other by means of the
communicators, and there was also much visiting back and forth in
person. Stevens and Nadia came often to the _Sirius_, and were
accompanied frequently by Verna Pickering, who claimed anew her ancient
right of "kicking around under foot," wherever Brandon and Westfall
might chance to be--and at such times General Crowninshield was
practically certain to appear. And upon days when the beautiful brunette
did not appear, the commandant generally found it necessary to inspect
in person something in the _Arcturus_.
Day after day passed, and even the new and ultra-powerful detector
screens of the _Sirius_ remained unresponsive and cold. Day after day
the plates before the doubled lookouts and observers remained blank.
Power flowed smoothly and unfailingly into the cosmic receptors, and
the products of conversion were discharged with equal smoothness and
regularity from the forty-five gigantic driving projectors. The tractor
beam held its heavy burden easily and the generators functioned
perfectly. And finally a planet began to loom up in the stern lookout
plates.
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 thought
it looked that way yesterday, but supposed it must be only apparent--a
trick of piloting or something about the orbit. I thought of course you
were taking us back home--but you can't _possibly_ get to Tellus on any
such course as this!"
"Sure not," Brandon replied easily. "Certainly it's Mars. Isn't that
where the _Arcturus_ started out for? Whoever said we were going to
Tellus? Of course, if any of the passengers want to go right back the
IPC will undoubtedly furnish transportation _gratis_. But paste this in
your hat, Verna, for future reference--when spacehounds start out to go
anywhere they _go_ there, even if they have to spend a year or so on
minus time to do it!"
Closer and closer they approached the red planet, swinging around in a
wide arc in order to make their course coincide exactly with the pilot
ray of check station M14, which was now precisely in its scheduled
location in space. At the chief pilot's desk in the control room of the
_Arcturus_, Breckenridge checked in with the station, then calculated
rapidly the instant of their touching the specially-built bumper
platforms of spring steel, hemp, and fiber which awaited them upon the
Martian dock of the Interplanetary Corporation. Within range of the
terminal, he plugged into it, waited until the tiny light flashed its
green message of attention, and reported.
"IPV _Arcturus_; Breckenridge, Chief Pilot; trip number forty-three
twenty-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 any
evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
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