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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1321629 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63604 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63604) diff --git a/old/63604-h.zip b/old/63604-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 6dfcddb..0000000 --- a/old/63604-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63604-h/63604-h.htm b/old/63604-h/63604-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index b1f10f7..0000000 --- a/old/63604-h/63604-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1653 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Battlefield in Black, by George A. Whittington. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Battlefield in Black, by George A. Whittington - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Battlefield in Black - -Author: George A. Whittington - -Release Date: November 2, 2020 [EBook #63604] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BATTLEFIELD IN BLACK *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>Battlefield In Black</h1> - -<h2>By GEORGE A. WHITTINGTON</h2> - -<p>The <i>Avenger</i> was waging its deadliest<br /> -fight—in a battlefield where weapons were useless.</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories Fall 1945.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>A lovely image shimmered on the visa-phone screen in Captain Jon -McPartland's cabin. He stood before the instrument, drinking in the -vision with his eyes, and feeling it race through his blood like a -rocket wash. But his square jaw was set in a determined line, and his -big hands were clenched hard.</p> - -<p>The vision was Almira Denton, whose hair was a red-gold nebula, whose -eyes were the cool green of Terra itself. To Jon McPartland, she was -much more than just the daughter of his superior, Marshal Denton, -Supreme Commander of all Solar System forces.</p> - -<p>A memory of her soft lips had been with him through long weeks of -dangerous outer planet patrol. Now, bringing his sleek battle cruiser, -<i>Avenger</i>, homeward, he reached toward her over maximum visa-phone -range. Jon tried to keep anger from his blue eyes as he answered her -suggestion.</p> - -<p>"Almira, I don't care if you are a full-blown psychologist now and -aching to qualify for the Congress of Specialists! You can't make a -case report out of me."</p> - -<p>"Now, Jon, dear," pleaded the girl softly, "you know how father needs -help with Congress. Our scientists make the laws—but they think of -science, and neglect System Defenses. I could make them listen!"</p> - -<p>There was persuasion in her throaty voice that convinced McPartland she -could do exactly that. He knew, too, there was real cause for worry -about System Defense. The planets had long been disarmed. Only the -Congress of Specialists had power to maintain armed forces.</p> - -<p>It had neglected bases and fighting units for years. The Space Patrol -alone remained as a weapon for law and safety—and it took all the -fighting heart of Marshal Denton to get purchase credits for that! If -invaders ever struck—</p> - -<p>Jon shuddered, his anger slipping away. "I know, Almira," he murmured, -"I know. But why serve me up to the Specialists on a platter? You can -psychoanalyze somebody else."</p> - -<p>Almira shook her radiant head in dissent. "The Eligibility Committee -only certifies candidates for election if they present outstanding work.</p> - -<p>"An analysis of you would be outstanding because you're a popular hero, -Jon. You've just destroyed a powerful alien ship—been promoted! I'd be -certified. Earth would elect me to Congress!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>She stood before the visa-phone in the Denton home. Jon McPartland -visualized her among the Specialists. He could see her slim, perfect -figure in abbreviated formal dress, arresting attention like a shaft of -warm sunshine in a musty vault. The Specialists would listen to her!</p> - -<p>An emotion from below his consciousness pushed the realization aside. -He was a man, and this was the woman he loved! "Almira," he said -slowly, "I wouldn't mind if it were someone else—but I can't—I won't -be just a guinea pig to you!"</p> - -<p>The girl came closer to the screen, her eyes alight with eagerness. -"Think of what it would mean to the Marshal, Jon—and to the Patrol! -You'd be a perfect subject Jon. You're—well, impulsive, and—"</p> - -<p>"Before you studied psychology," he flared, "you called me -quick-tempered, maladjusted!"</p> - -<p>McPartland felt the muscles bunch along his jaw, and drew anger from -the memory of a long forgotten quarrel to force back a sick heaviness -in his stomach. "Maybe I am all that, Almira—even atavistic, you said -then. But I'm more than a specimen in a glass box."</p> - -<p>He stopped suddenly. Almira's beautiful face had faded from the -visa-phone screen. There had been no cut-off click from her instrument, -but she was gone.</p> - -<p>"Almira," Jon called sharply, "Almira." There was no answer. His screen -remained grey and empty. The connection was broken.</p> - -<p>McPartland's blue eyes narrowed, as he shot out a big hand to pick up -the intra-ship phone. He jabbed the Radio Room button vigorously.</p> - -<p>"Holdern speaking," came the Radio Officer's crisp, efficient voice.</p> - -<p>"I was talking to Terra over visa-phone," snapped the Captain. "Did you -cut me?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir!" came the instant reply, with a shocked intake of breath. -"The ether is yours, Captain," Holdern added, recovering his dramatic -flair in the next second.</p> - -<p>"Then why is my instrument dead?"</p> - -<p>"My controls are in order, Sir," said the Radio Officer. "May I send a -machinist's mate to look at the instrument?"</p> - -<p>"Carry on, Mister," agreed McPartland, smiling suddenly. Best crew -in the System, he told himself. His officers acted fast, without -hesitation or alibi. "Report progress to the Control Room."</p> - -<p>With a last disgusted frown at the visa-phone, McPartland left his -cabin and walked through the narrow corridor to the Control Room. As he -entered, Lieutenant-Commander Clemens turned from the view screen, his -face achieving a masterpiece in worry.</p> - -<p>"I was about to inform the Engineer, Sir," said the second-in-command, -"The view screen is not functioning properly."</p> - -<p>Engineer McTavish looked up from a chess game with Ray Control Officer -Reynolds. Neither of the two had much to do in the way of duty, now -that the patrol trip was ended. But the Control Room gave them an alert -feeling to spice their chess board feud.</p> - -<p>At the Lieutenant-Commander's words, McTavish rose with an alacrity -that suggested a game not going to his liking. He reached the view -screen with McPartland.</p> - -<p>Most of the screen seemed normal. The three curved segments, -representing joined fields of space extending around the sides and -aft of the <i>Avenger</i>, showed the normal inky, star-studded black. But -it was different with the forward screen. In the center, where the -growing image of their green home planet should have been, was only -blackness—unrelieved emptiness.</p> - -<p>"From the looks of that, Mister McTavish," the Captain said sternly, -"you have a few stalemated wires."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Engineer's thin face flushed. His long nose twitched, and his -grey eyes smouldered with professional indignation. "Begging your -pardon, Sir," he objected. "If any coordinates had failed, the entire -screen would blank out—and stay blanked, until I was notified. I -would authorize partial operation only while the condition was being -adjusted, Sir."</p> - -<p>"Do you mean," asked Lieutenant-Commander Clemens, his voice dropping -ominously, and one arm gesturing heavily at the empty blotch, -"that—that—"</p> - -<p>"That whatever you see is there," finished McTavish. "Or isn't there," -he amended drily.</p> - -<p>Captain McPartland saw Ray Control Officer Roberts get up quietly -from before the chess board, and walk over to his station. Roberts, -his round face impassive, brown eyes thoughtful, slid into the chair -before his microphone, and ran long, slim fingers lovingly over his -calculators.</p> - -<p>The Engineer, too, at a nod from Jon moved over to his station. -His grey eyes were soft with pride as they looked over the exact -scale replica of the <i>Avenger</i> on the table before him. Within the -transparent hull, vari-colored filaments glowed with the pulse of the -ship, tracing out the perfect functioning of every mechanism.</p> - -<p>McPartland looked at the other, then back at the view screen, and his -full lips tightened. He could feel the tenseness of the three officers -as he spoke into the intra-ship.</p> - -<p>"Get me Terra Patrol Base on the ship visa-phone," he ordered Radio -Officer Holdern.</p> - -<p>"Sorry, Sir," was the crisp response, "I've been trying to raise Terra -since the machinist's mate found your instrument in perfect order. -Terra doesn't answer!"</p> - -<p>Jon's blue eyes hardened. "Get Mars Patrol Base!" he said softly.</p> - -<p>As he moved to the visa-phone, Clemens took over the intra-ship, -plugging in his headset. His gloomy expression deepened when the -instrument buzzed immediately.</p> - -<p>"Navigation reports integrators acting improperly, Sir," he relayed. -"Radar shows negative from direction of Terra."</p> - -<p>"Impossible!" the Captain gasped, face suddenly wooden.</p> - -<p>"Lieutenant Parek's exact comment, Sir," Clemens said sadly. He ran a -nervous hand through thinning blond hair beneath his headset. His pale -eyes were expectant.</p> - -<p>"Tell Navigation to hold course," McPartland said calmly. Something -in his voice super-charged the already taut atmosphere of the Control -Room, bringing an eager smile to the face of Engineer McTavish.</p> - -<p>As though in response, the visa-phone hummed, and its screen glowed. -The image formed was a young officer, an officer with a wisp of blond -mustache and a pale face forced into disciplined blankness by a -straining will.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Some of the weariness left the younger man's haunted eyes as he saluted -Captain McPartland. He spoke, his lips moving rapidly, but the words -were gibberish.</p> - -<p>"Radio, scramble for ship code," Lieutenant-Commander Clemens said into -the intra-ship. He turned to the Captain. "I hope they have the right -code, Sir."</p> - -<p>"—extreme emergency, Sir," came the voice of the officer from Mars -Base. "Deemed it advisable to use code."</p> - -<p>"Very commendable, Mister," McPartland acknowledged, tersely. "My -compliments to the Admiral, and may I speak to him at once."</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry, Sir," said the other, "the Admiral is at Terra Base with -the major fleet units. I am Lieutenant Browne, commanding."</p> - -<p>"Commanding!" exploded Jon. "Then the base must be almost empty!"</p> - -<p>"There is only a maintenance crew here," admitted the Lieutenant -wearily, and added defensively, "It's the same at Jupiter Base, Sir.</p> - -<p>"All ranking officers are at Terra Base with the battleships, to -receive instruction in the use of new equipment the Specialists have -perfected—You know, Captain, defense against mono-charge rays."</p> - -<p>"Yes," groaned McPartland, "I know. The Specialists strip our Bases -to make a big ceremony—of the only thing they've done for the Patrol -in decades. And now—" He squared his broad shoulders, biting back -the rest. "I have an urgent report. Who is ranking officer outside of -Terra?"</p> - -<p>"You are, Sir. I was about to radio you, when your call came through." -Browne saluted again and drew himself up rigidly, as he went on:</p> - -<p>"I beg to report, Captain, that we have lost radio contact with Terra -Base. Telescopic observation reveals—" his voice faltered and the -lines worked more deeply into his white face—"reveals, Sir, <i>no trace</i> -of Terra, Luna, or the stars and planets normally visible—throughout a -spherical area six-hundred-thousand miles in diameter."</p> - -<p>The Lieutenant paused. McPartland said nothing. His square jaw was -straining, as though to knot his face into the same hard fist as each -of his great hands.</p> - -<p>On the face of Engineer McTavish, the eager smile had frozen. Ray -Control Officer Reynolds let his restless fingers fall motionless on -the table before him. Clemens' small, regular features were swept -blank by an apprehension too intense to be mirrored.</p> - -<p>All of them strained to hear Browne's concluding words, in a voice that -was suddenly a whisper: "Within that area is an absolute blackness we -cannot penetrate by radio, radar, or telescope!"</p> - -<p>"Thank you, Mister," the Captain acknowledged, "that checks with our -own observation." He was not aware of his own voice, the cold, slow -words could have been spoken by some one else. "Have you contacted -Jupiter Base?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Sir," Lieutenant Browne answered eagerly, "they too agree."</p> - -<p>"Very good," McPartland said. "Stand alert. I will contact you later." -His hand reached for the switch.</p> - -<p>Alarm leaped into Browne's face. "Captain! Sir! Are there no further -orders? Four Patrol ships are on outer patrol—May I suggest—"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>McPartland's full lips curved into a tight, mirthless smile, below the -sudden flame in his blue eyes. "Mister, the Fleet is at Terra Base. If -it can't—" He let the sentence stop unfinished, and added quietly: -"This ship can handle more than those light cruisers."</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon, Sir," Lieutenant Browne murmured. A second later, -his image faded from the screen.</p> - -<p>From the corner of his eye, Jon saw the others watching the empty -screen, as though waiting for the vanished officer to ask the question -that was in their minds. Lieutenant-Commander Clemens, however, shook -his head mournfully, anticipating his superior's next act, and stepping -aside from the intra-ship.</p> - -<p>The Captain reached for the instrument, punching down the lever for -Navigation. "Lieutenant Parek," he said clearly, "take absolute solar -bearings at once—plot a blind course for Terra Base."</p> - -<p>He heard McTavish release his breath in a soft satisfied, whistle, -even as Parek's monotonous tenor replied: "Bearings taken, Sir. Course -plotted, Sir. Ready to proceed."</p> - -<p>"Good man! He's ahead of us," exclaimed Engineer McTavish, his gray -eyes dancing. "There's a brain behind that sing-song voice, after all! -Begging your pardon, Sir," he added to Jon.</p> - -<p>McPartland shot the Engineer a quick glance and nodded. The two of them -shared their pride in the <i>Avenger</i>: McTavish in the ship itself, the -Captain in the officers and crew as well. And both of them sensed, with -Clemens and Roberts, that the whole, delicate, balanced entity, the -<i>Avenger</i>, would find battle in the blackness ahead.</p> - -<p>The Captain turned back to the intra-ship. "Proceed on course, Mister," -he ordered. "Full speed ahead! Reduce to quarter-speed when we enter -the area. Be prepared to operate ship in absolute lack of visibility!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Sir," the Navigation Officer acknowledged, laconically.</p> - -<p>"Begging your pardon, Sir," McTavish said fiercely, as his commanding -officer turned away from the phone, "absolute lack of visibility. We -will have interior lights, Sir—I guarantee it—at least the emergency -circuits."</p> - -<p>Clemens turned his pale blue, worried eyes of the Engineer. "Light, -Mister? Light, if we can see it! There's light in and beyond that—that -place ahead, but we can't see it!" he said mournfully.</p> - -<p>"Man, there's an interference screen," the Engineer snapped. "Once -we're through it, we'll see what's going on." He jerked his lanky -frame up from his chair suddenly, his thin nose twitching excitedly, -and turned to McPartland. "The screen may play merry havoc with our -machinery, Sir. Perhaps we should hit at full speed and let our -momentum crash us through."</p> - -<p>Ray Control Officer Reynolds answered the other's first assertion. "A -spherical interference screen, Mister?" he asked quietly. "Six hundred -thousand miles in diameter! We know how much equipment it takes for a -protective screen around this ship—and that screen doesn't stop light -or radio."</p> - -<p>McTavish's grey eyes widened. "Man, that's right! It would be a -fantastic job." But he insisted stubbornly: "As long as there's ether -in there, we'll have light!"</p> - -<p>"I don't believe there's ether in there," Jon interposed thoughtfully. -"That's the only answer. Radar waves would be reflected from a screen -of any sort—but our beams simply vanish."</p> - -<p>Clemens gasped. "Then the fluorescent markings on our controls—we -won't see them!" he said anxiously. "Light travels through ether—"</p> - -<p>"Mister McTavish," McPartland interrupted curtly, "get your men -and rig up a fixture for Lieutenant Parek. He'll have to work by -touch—everything must be at his fingertips."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Sir," the Engineer responded briskly. He glanced respectfully at -his commanding officer; McTavish's thin face brightened as he saw the -strength of the Captain's reasoning, and found himself with a job he -could handle. He started out of the control room.</p> - -<p>"There won't be much time, Mister," Jon reminded him.</p> - -<p>"Begging your pardon, Sir, we won't need much."</p> - -<p>With that, the officer was gone.</p> - -<p>Again Jon smiled proudly, and turned to where his Lieutenant-Commander -waited. "Mister Clemens, open all switches on the intra-phone, and -order all stations switched open to the control room. You will relay -any necessary messages between stations."</p> - -<p>Clemens clamped on his headset, and his hands went over the switches -rapidly. "Attention, all stations. All stations."</p> - -<p>"You may inform the men of the situation and our plans," Jon added, -quietly.</p> - -<p>Ray Control Officer Reynolds caught his gaze, his large brown eyes -thoughtful. "May I suggest, Sir, a fixture for the ray guns? I can -operate my calculators, and know the results by sound—but the -gunners—"</p> - -<p>"Disintegrator rays," Jon reminded him, "travel through ether, as does -light. So do your range-finder beams."</p> - -<p>"Of course, Sir!" Reynolds said, his round face startled and dismayed. -He ran his fingers over his keyboards slowly. "That means, Sir, that -we—"</p> - -<p>"We will be weaponless in there," McPartland finished grimly. "A -lifeboat with an old fashioned powder cannon and explosive shells could -finish us off." He laughed harshly. "If it could find us!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Forward view-screen was entirely blanked out. A line was rapidly -moving along the side screens—a line that erased the stars and drew a -portent for the men in the control room of the <i>Avenger</i>.</p> - -<p>Jon McPartland's steady gaze flicked from that line back to the empty -forward screen. His blue eyes burned into that emptiness. Somewhere in -there was Terra Base—and at Terra Base was Almira Denton!</p> - -<p>Whatever the force that had closed silently around the Earth, it -had stilled the heart of the solar system. The planets waited, Jon -knew, restlessly, breathlessly; for the whole intricate, interworld -civilization drew its life from the great industries of Terra. Let -those industries stop, or be taken over by enemies, and all the planets -would be at the mercy of those enemies.</p> - -<p>And the only military power which the Supreme System Congress could -call upon was at Terra Base. McPartland imagined the great space -battleships—cramped into overhaul cradles—the crews dispersed on -leave. Slight chance to get them off in the blackness—even if crews -could be assembled—even if they had any place to go!</p> - -<p>But the <i>Avenger</i> had some place to go! McPartland's ship had a -crew—and it could fight!</p> - -<p>"We'll fight," Jon told himself savagely. "We'll win! And Almira—if—" -He didn't finish even the thought. Instead he visualized the lovely -oval of her face—with the green eyes set in like twin, glowing -emeralds.</p> - -<p>The sudden jarring blast of the forward rockets brought Jon's gaze -around to the side screens. They were almost completely blanked out. -Only a thin slice of normal space remained. They were entering the -area, and Lieutenant Parek was braking.</p> - -<p>"Man, that wasn't too soon," McTavish said tensely. Clemens said -nothing, his face carefully set in a harried expression he would retain -even when invisible. Reynolds looked up dejectedly from his desk, his -hand resting protectively on the calculators that would be useless to -them. The Captain moved over to the intra-ship, standing close beside -his Lieutenant-Commander.</p> - -<p>They waited silently. Jon was looking at the Engineer's eager smile, as -the retarding rocket blasts died away. McTavish nodded, counting the -drumming explosions from the stern and feeling the vibration of the -ship with an intimate knowledge.</p> - -<p>"We're at quarter speed, Sir," he said, as the Captain heard the -Navigation Officer's clear, even voice over the intra-ship speaker:</p> - -<p>"Quarter speed, Sir. On course."</p> - -<p>The last two words fell into complete blackness. Jon felt the pupils -of his eyes straining, opening for the least trace of light. There was -none. He could hear the slow breathing of the others, and a few low -exclamations through the open switches of the intra-ship.</p> - -<p>"Carry on, Lieutenant," he ordered, and let his breath out of his -lungs slowly. "Mister McTavish," he added, "here's something to add to -your technical knowledge: electricity does not need ether—whether it -travels around or within wires."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, Sir," came the Engineer's ironic reply like a sound without -origin in the well of blackness that closed in on Jon from every side. -"I had reached the same conclusion, Sir."</p> - -<p>"We are running on batteries, Sir," Clemens relayed from beside him. -"The cyclotron has stopped functioning."</p> - -<p>"The batteries will be enough, Sir," came the Engineer's voice. "I -arranged an automatic out-in, Sir. I knew electrons couldn't bombard -atoms without ether to travel through."</p> - -<p>"Good work, Mister!" said McPartland.</p> - -<p>"Thank you, Sir."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Captain said nothing more. He was listening to the steady drum of -the stern rockets. The explosive charges were fired by electric spark. -All the functional mechanism of the ship was operated electrically.</p> - -<p>His ship could travel. They would reach Terra. There was nothing to -do but wait—wait in an emptiness that brought a man to the edge of -insanity.</p> - -<p>It was eerie, this feeling of isolation. Only the rocket jets seemed -alive, pushing the <i>Avenger</i> ahead. Jon put out his hand and felt the -phone. It was warm under his fingers. He shivered in the warm air of -the control room. Suddenly he had to speak, to reach the others in this -Stygian pit.</p> - -<p>"It must be bitter cold on Terra," he said evenly, "without sunshine, -without heat drawn from the central power beams."</p> - -<p>Near him, Clemens sighed heavily. Reynolds' fingers drummed over his -keyboard. It was McTavish who answered:</p> - -<p>"Aye, Sir," he said, his words edged with rage, "a few days of this and -Terra would be a frozen wasteland."</p> - -<p>McPartland clenched his great fists harder. "There won't be a few -days!" he grated. "Whoever's behind this will want Terra and her -industries—and her people—in working order."</p> - -<p>"You think it's human beings?" came the Engineer's question. "I hadn't -thought—"</p> - -<p>"It has to be," Jon reasoned. "The timing is perfect, and so is the -strategy. Striking the heart of the Solar System—when the Patrol is -there and helpless. They knew."</p> - -<p>"Outlaws." Reynolds commented quietly.</p> - -<p>"More than that, man!" exploded McTavish. "There's science here. It -takes science—genius—to eliminate the ether! It's never been done -before!"</p> - -<p>"I think you're right, Mister," McPartland said. His words fell with an -inflection as soft and deadly as the impenetrable blackness about them. -"There's science here—and outlaws, armed desperate men who would dare -to try this.</p> - -<p>"It's treason. Specialists and outlaws in an unholy alliance, trying -for a <i>coup d'etat</i>—for power over the whole system! There'll be a -demand for surrender."</p> - -<p>"A black plot," quipped McTavish. But the others could hear the angry -quickening of his breath.</p> - -<p>"What choice will the Congress have but surrender?" Clemens asked sadly.</p> - -<p>The Captain smashed the flat of his hand against the intra-ship phone -before him. "<i>WE</i> have the choice! We are fighters! There can't be -many of them in the plot—or it would have leaked out. They need the -blackness for protection."</p> - -<p>"Your logic is sound, Sir," said the calm voice of the Ray Control -Officer. "But how will we reach them—how will we fight them?"</p> - -<p>The others couldn't see McPartland's broad shoulders sag momentarily at -the question. He thought of Almira Denton somewhere in Terra Base, and -bunching muscles snapped his shoulders back.</p> - -<p>"We'll find out when we land," he answered slowly.</p> - -<p>"That'll be soon, man!" McTavish cried suddenly.</p> - -<p>They felt the <i>Avenger</i> lurch, and quiver as port and forward rocket -tubes thundered. Jon looked upward to where the view screens hung. -Those screens should be splashed with a riot of color as the ship -changed course and plunged through the jet wash. But nothing was -visible to Jon's straining eyes. He heard the Engineer explaining:</p> - -<p>"Parek has a mechanical timer rigged with an alarm, to tell him when to -correct course."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>McPartland thought for a moment of the officer down below, sitting -motionless, his hands strapped into fixtures. The empty seconds would -be eternities, while he listened to the monotonous ticking of the -timer. Then the strident alarm would shatter his nerves, and his -fingers search the guide wires for the right controls.</p> - -<p>"Can he do it?" Clemens murmured anxiously, as though reading his -commander's thought.</p> - -<p>"If he can't, there isn't a Navigator in the System who can," the other -said tightly.</p> - -<p>All of them could feel the deck sloping. The <i>Avenger</i> was heading -down. Parek was feeling for Terra Base, balancing the forces of the -retarding and propulsion jets, listening to the beat of the timer.</p> - -<p>McTavish, too, was feeling for their goal. "Steady, man, steady," -he said aloud, his sense attuned to the ship's familiar vibrations. -"Landing speed, now," he added.</p> - -<p>All of them braced their legs against the increasing tilt of the floor. -They rocked on their feet, as Parek poured a richer mixture into the -blast tubes.</p> - -<p>For a long second the <i>Avenger</i> hung balanced on her jets. Every -spaceman aboard her felt his heart stop. Then the ship settled. There -was a bump. A moment of rocking, and they had landed!</p> - -<p>McPartland spoke into the intra-ship phone: "Attention all stations! -All hands remain at their posts until further orders." He turned from -the instrument, trying again to find those about him. "Mister McTavish. -You will go out with me.</p> - -<p>"Mister Clemens, you are in command. Take no action without orders from -me—or Marshal Denton himself."</p> - -<p>"Very good, Sir," replied the Lieutenant-Commander.</p> - -<p>"I am at the door, Sir," said the Engineer.</p> - -<p>"Good. Mister Reynolds will close the port behind us. No one is to -enter the ship, Mister Clemens, unless accompanied by myself or the -Marshal. We don't know what the situation is here, and we can't take -chances. Is that clear?"</p> - -<p>"Very clear, Sir," Clemens answered, his tone anxious. "Mister Reynolds -will remain at the port, and open it only as instructed."</p> - -<p>The three of them groped down the passage. At the port, McPartland -spoke into the blackness: "I've switched on audiphone, Mister Reynolds. -You will open the port only to my voice or that of Marshal Denton."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Sir," was the answer, the words spoken almost into his ear.</p> - -<p>Jon reached out and found the other's arm. The Captain's fingers -gripped hard, biting into muscle. "We'll soon have the answer to your -question," he said softly. "If the Patrol still holds the Base—"</p> - -<p>"Good luck, Sir," replied the Ray Control Officer quietly. "We'll be -waiting to follow you—anywhere."</p> - -<p>The Captain found his Engineer in the well of pitch about him. There -was reassurance in the other's tense, firm shoulder. Together, they -went through the port, and heard Reynolds shut it behind them.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A sharp rattle of explosions sounded in the distance, off to their -left. "Man!" gasped McTavish, "that sounds like—"</p> - -<p>"Like a machine-gun," finished his commander. "An old-fashioned -explosive powder weapon. Ray guns are useless, of course, without -ether."</p> - -<p>"There's fighting," the Engineer cried eagerly. A single louder -explosion came from the left. The sound hung in the air, muffled and -distorted. "A grenade," McTavish added mechanically. "It was thrown -into a building—you can tell by the echoes."</p> - -<p>"The repair docks," Jon said. "The walls are thick enough."</p> - -<p>"That's where the battleships are," the Engineer said dully, his -excitement draining into apprehension. "Who's got them, and who's -attacking? If the plotters have taken the docks and the fleet—"</p> - -<p>"The fleet's useless," snapped the Captain, "in this blackness. The -plotters can't man it anyway—they'll want to immobilize it, and keep -it intact until they've won.</p> - -<p>"It's the old arsenal I'm thinking about. We need that for—"</p> - -<p>"Hist, man!" warned McTavish, suddenly. "There's someone near us."</p> - -<p>"Who goes there?" challenged a voice sharply. "You're surrounded, and -you'll get cold steel if you don't surrender."</p> - -<p>Jon laughed. "Did you surround the <i>Avenger</i>, too, Marshal?" he asked -ironically. "We're standing directly beside it."</p> - -<p>He heard a sudden feminine sob of relief, and soft words that sent the -blood throbbing to his temples: "Oh, Jon—Jon darling."</p> - -<p>Another voice cut in brusquely: "This is no time for melodramatics, -daughter.</p> - -<p>"Jon, I was sure it was you. Who else would try to fly a ship in this? -But we couldn't take chances. We had to find out and warn you before -you blundered into the enemy!"</p> - -<p>"We were on the lookout, Sir," the Captain assured him. He could -imagine Marshal Denton; sturdy, tall, handsome. The Marshal's gray eyes -would be flashing there in the blackness, and the snow-white hair piled -on his massive head would make him look more than ever like a noble old -lion.</p> - -<p>"What have you to report, Captain?" Denton asked tautly.</p> - -<p>Jon told him briefly of their position and actions since he'd first -found communications with Terra cut. As he spoke, a soft hand found -his. Jon slipped his arm about Almira's slim waist, and drew her close. -Her head sank to his shoulder.</p> - -<p>He felt her stir with amazement, and her little hands gripped his arms, -as he told the Marshal his suspicions of an alliance between outlaws -and some of the Specialists.</p> - -<p>"It might be," murmured Denton. "There's a small bloc that has -consistently opposed requests for credits to enlarge and strengthen the -Patrol."</p> - -<p>"What's the situation here, Sir?" McPartland asked eagerly. "Has there -been an ultimatum—a demand for surrender? Where is the Congress?"</p> - -<p>"The Specialists are in session," Marshal Denton told him. "You can -imagine the confusion! They're getting nowhere.</p> - -<p>"There's been no demand made yet—though I think you're right and one -will come!"</p> - -<p>He was silent for a minute. Jon's hands clenched. "What about here at -the Base, Sir?"</p> - -<p>"When the darkness fell, the repair crews and guards in the docks were -attacked immediately by men armed with grenades and firearms," Denton -explained. "Most of our personnel there was captured or driven out.</p> - -<p>"Fortunately I was here. I armed a squad with firearms from the old -arsenal, and attacked. We've got them pinned in the docks. They can't -get out—and we can't get in."</p> - -<p>"The plotters must have overlooked the arsenal," Jon mused aloud, "or -they didn't know about it." He could imagine the tense hurried minutes -that Denton described so calmly.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Marshal had thought and moved rapidly. Squads were needed to -lay cables or ropes to mark paths in the blackness. Men were armed -and moved up to attack the docks. It was a brilliant mind that had -surrounded the attackers and organized communications and supplies for -the Patrolmen.</p> - -<p>"Congratulations, Sir," McPartland said admiringly, and added soberly, -"I imagine there isn't much news from the rest of Terra."</p> - -<p>He heard Marshal Denton sigh heavily. "No, Jon. There's some -communication over old electric-type instruments. In some places -there's rioting. Everywhere, it's cold, and people are frightened and -disorganized. There hasn't been time for lack of food to make itself -felt."</p> - -<p>"Stuff could move over the railroads, Sir," cut in McTavish.</p> - -<p>"The Specialists have forbidden that," the Marshal told him. "Because -of danger of accidents."</p> - -<p>"Accidents!" snapped the Engineer scornfully. "Worrying about accidents -at a time like this!"</p> - -<p>Jon spoke impatiently. "May I suggest Sir, that you send a body of -men to Congress. Surround the building, cut outside communications. -When the darkness lifts, search every Congressman, and arrest any -found with firearms. You can bet the plotters will be armed. But the -Congress will have to be suspended until every member is thoroughly -investigated!"</p> - -<p>He felt Almira stiffen in his arms, and heard McTavish exclaim: "Good, -man!"</p> - -<p>"Suspend the Congress—" Marshal Denton repeated, shocked. "Jon, you—"</p> - -<p>"It's an emergency, Sir," McPartland urged. "It's war. You're the -supreme military commander. You have the right to act on your own -initiative whenever the Congress of Specialists cannot function. They -can't function now! You can't let them be stampeded into surrender. -There must be no surrender!"</p> - -<p>For a long minute, there was silence in the blackness about him. "I'll -do it, Jon!" Denton said at last. "Captain Wendall!"</p> - -<p>A man answered somewhere beyond him. Denton gave swift orders, and the -other moved away. "My men will be at the Congress in five minutes, -Jon," the Marshal said. "Now, just how do you propose to fight this -thing? We have to be right, now, you know. We must win—or be executed -as traitors!"</p> - -<p>"I want the <i>Avenger</i> loaded with space torpedoes, Sir. We have -hundreds in the arsenal," McPartland explained. "I believe the logical -place for the ether dissipating machinery would be on the far side of -the moon. The outlaws and their Specialist friends could have worked -there without fear of discovery."</p> - -<p>Denton was already giving orders to another officer. "We'll have your -ship loaded in minutes, Captain," he said. "You're right about the -moon—we don't even patrol that side. You intend to—"</p> - -<p>"To blast every square inch of its surface," Jon said fiercely, "from -space. Once we destroy the machinery, and lift the blackness, we'll -make short work of the plotters. The <i>Avenger</i> could do the job alone!"</p> - -<p>"Good!" said the Marshal. "I hope your theory is sound. We haven't much -time to experiment."</p> - -<p>"No," said Almira suddenly. "Millions of people would die in rioting, -accidents, from starvation—if light—if the ether isn't restored! We'd -have to surrender before that happened."</p> - -<p>"What would those millions gain," McPartland demanded savagely, -"better than death—under the rule of outlaws and traitors?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Almira pulled away from him. Her fingers slipped from his. "It is -modern," she said coolly, "to preserve life, not throw it away in -hopeless resistance! If you fail, we must surrender."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid she's right, Jon," Marshal Denton's voice added quietly.</p> - -<p>Jon's angry retort stopped on his tongue, as a strong hand clamped his -arm. McTavish whispered, somehow finding his Captain's ear: "We'll -still have the <i>Avenger</i>, Sir, to fight in—let them surrender who -will."</p> - -<p>McPartland fought back his rage. The Engineer was right. It was no -time to debate. It was time to start the fight. "I'll instruct my -men, Marshal Denton," he said, "about the space torpedoes. The things -haven't been used in battle for decades, and they'll be tricky to -handle."</p> - -<p>"We've laid a cable line directly to the ship, Sir," an invisible -officer beside him said respectfully. "You can follow it with your -feet."</p> - -<p>"Thank you." Jon made his way back, McTavish at his heels, and gave -necessary orders to Reynolds at the port. McTavish went inside to -superintend the loading, and Jon followed the cable to the Marshal's -office.</p> - -<p>It was a long, almost silent wait, while the loading went on. There was -little to say. Denton received reports, and issued orders. There was -the murmur of detached voices, and the sound of slow, careful footsteps -in and out of the room.</p> - -<p>Jon sat quietly out of the way. Almira was there somewhere. She did not -speak to Jon, although he heard her soft voice in occasional snatches -of conversation with her father. Jon could imagine her, pale with the -strain of this nightmare, lovely, her green eyes angry and scornful. -She was angry, he knew, angry at his will to resist—to waste, as -she thought, blood and lives in a fight that would seem vain if the -darkness weren't lifted. Almira couldn't know what kind of men the -outlaws were. Jon knew; he'd fought them!</p> - -<p>Restlessly, he started to rise from the chair. The <i>Avenger</i> should be -ready. His feet sought for the cable on the floor, and his eyes found -it first. It took a full second to realize that dim light had returned.</p> - -<p>Denton exclaimed suddenly. The light was growing brighter. Then it was -full daylight, and the Marshal was starting for the door. From outside -came the rattle of firearms, and a hissing that told of many heat rays -flaring into action. The battle for the repair docks!</p> - -<p>"Wait, Sir," McPartland cried to the Marshal, "the visa-phone! This -must be it. The plotters have let the ether back to broadcast their -demands."</p> - -<p>The news channel button on the visa-phone glowed brightly. Denton -snapped the instrument on, and adjusted the wave length. The screen -glowed—empty! Whoever was broadcasting was not projecting his image. -The voice that spoke was harsh, cruel:</p> - -<p>"Citizens of the System," it said bluntly. "The Terra Council for -Freedom has struck for your liberation. We are citizens of Earth who -rise in indignation against the corruption, hypocrisy, and inefficiency -of the Congress of Specialists. Most especially, we rise against the -dictatorship of the man who has used the Congress as his tool—the man -who today holds your alleged representatives prisoner—Marshal Denton, -your ruler, unmasked, at last, in this moment when we strike for your -freedom!"</p> - -<p>The voice paused. For a space there was no sound from behind that -glowing, empty screen.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Dictator!" Marshal Denton bellowed. His handsome face colored, and he -took an involuntary half step toward the visa-phone. "Dictator! Of all -the—the—" He choked off the rest, regaining his poise.</p> - -<p>"Very nice, Jon," murmured Almira. "Your suggestion certainly played -into their hands."</p> - -<p>"One lie is as good as another," he answered. "You should know that -propaganda works on lies." He grinned at them suddenly. "We can guess -from that tirade, that we have the leaders—or some of them imprisoned -with the Congress."</p> - -<p>Almira flushed, and was silent. Denton nodded. "Yes, Jon, I think we -have. But how did they communicate with the others."</p> - -<p>The Captain shrugged. "Probably telegraph. An instrument could be -hidden there, and wires laid well in advance. Listen—"</p> - -<p>From the visa-phone, the hard voice spoke again: "We, the Terra -Council for Freedom demand the immediate surrender of the Congress, -and of Marshal Denton. When Denton has informed the Congress of his -acceptance, our committee will communicate further instructions."</p> - -<p>Another long pause, before the speaker concluded. The words were deadly -with menace: "Citizens of Terra, revolt and overthrow your oppressors! -Until they surrender, Terra will remain a dark, silent world. If they -do not surrender, it will become a dead world soon!"</p> - -<p>The screen brightened suddenly. A man's head and shoulders formed. -The shoulders were broad, powerful. Above them, the face was strong, -bronzed. There was a scar across one cheek that was known throughout -the system. Black eyes blazed with reckless courage, out of deep -sockets. Full, thick lips curved in a crafty smile.</p> - -<p>Jon McPartland clenched his huge fists helplessly. He knew the trail of -murder and robbery behind that animal courage, that scheming smile. The -man was Mark Baron, the most notorious and deadly outlaw still at large!</p> - -<p>"Someday," Jon said savagely, "I'll catch you, Baron!"</p> - -<p>The outlaw was fading from the view, as the screen dimmed. Outside, the -daylight, too, faded. Blackness crowded in again.</p> - -<p>"Very clever," came Almira's voice. "Many people are foolish enough to -think of Mark Baron as a modern Robin Hood."</p> - -<p>"He's the worst kind of criminal," Marshal Denton said bitterly. "But -the ridiculous legends about him will help their propaganda. There will -be panic and rioting now!"</p> - -<p>"Jon, we can't let this go on! We've got to—"</p> - -<p>An officer entered to report. Outside, the firing had dropped off. Ray -guns were again useless. There hadn't been time to recapture the docks.</p> - -<p>"The <i>Avenger</i> is ready, Sir," Jon said, when the officer had left. -"We'll take off at once."</p> - -<p>"Good luck, Captain," the Marshal said dully. "Almira, will you go—" -He left the question unfinished. Jon knew he was thinking of his -daughter, in a world ruled by men like Mark Baron. "Jon!" The older man -said fiercely, "we can't give up!"</p> - -<p>"I'll stay with you, Father," the girl said quietly, refusing Denton's -unspoken plea. "We'll have to be realistic—have to think of the -millions whose lives—" Her soft voice caught. "But, Jon—Jon, good -luck!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Out in space, the starlight was bright and clean. The four men in the -<i>Avenger's</i> control room glued their eyes on the side view screens. -They felt their spirits lift out of the black nightmare that still -covered the forward screen. They were silent, loving the stars and -planets shining back at them, untouched by the evil that blotted out -Terra.</p> - -<p>"It's wonderful, man," said McTavish at Jon's shoulder.</p> - -<p>McPartland nodded. He was surprised somehow to find the control room -unchanged. Reynolds still sat before his calculators. Clemens stood -beside the intra-ship, headphones clamped over his ears.</p> - -<p>The Lieutenant-Commander shuddered with every lurch of the ship. "Those -torpedoes, Sir," he muttered anxiously. "One would blow this ship -apart."</p> - -<p>"Don't worry, Mister," the Engineer reassured him, "we'll get rid of -half of them on the moon." He added to McPartland: "We're launching -them from Ray Station Six."</p> - -<p>"Good! You'd better get down there, Mister McTavish. We'll be heading -in for the moon—but quick!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Sir." The Engineer left the control room.</p> - -<p>As he passed through the door, McPartland heard the even voice of -Lieutenant Parek on the intra-ship: "Course plotted, Sir. Ready to -proceed."</p> - -<p>"Proceed," the Captain ordered. "Full speed ahead."</p> - -<p>"Full speed?" groaned Clemens, as the ship swung, and they felt the -pull of acceleration. "The vibration, Sir! Those torpedoes."</p> - -<p>Jon grinned. "You know you don't give a hang about those torpedoes, -Mister Clemens—just so we land them where they'll do the job."</p> - -<p>The Lieutenant-Commander looked pained. "Of course, Sir," he agreed -quickly, and added with an effort: "But full speed with no visibility!" -He started as an excited voice rang in his headset, and automatically -relayed the message McPartland could hear clearly through the still -open switches of the intra-ship: "Radio reports Mars Base has observed -us, and is asking for orders."</p> - -<p>"No orders," Jon snapped. "They can't help."</p> - -<p>"Lieutenant Browne's compliments, Sir," responded Radio Officer Holdern -eloquently, "and good luck."</p> - -<p>His words were followed by low exclamations from stations all over the -ship. The <i>Avenger</i> was again enveloped in the pitchy nightmare. Jon -put his hand on the ship phone, aware that Reynolds' fingers once more -were drumming his calculator keys, and Clemens was breathing quickly, -lightly, in time to the quickened beat of the rocket jets.</p> - -<p>There wasn't long to wait this time. The Navigation Officer's -unhurried, emotionless words floated into the Control room: "Ready for -run, Sir."</p> - -<p>McTavish was cut in on a three way connection. "Ready to fire -torpedoes, Sir," he said immediately.</p> - -<p>"Fire at positions," Jon told him.</p> - -<p>He felt the sweep of the ship as she turned, and imagined Parek, -waiting quietly for his alarm.</p> - -<p>"Position one," warned the Navigation Officer, paused, and added -flatly, "dead."</p> - -<p>"Torpedo away," sang the Engineer from Ray Station 6. "Ready again."</p> - -<p>"Position two," Parek responded as his alarm spoke again. "Dead."</p> - -<p>"Away," McTavish told him jubilantly. "Ready."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The procedure was repeated over and over. Below them, on the cold -dead surface of the moon, carefully plotted explosions cut a swath of -destruction that could destroy any man-made structure ever raised. -Space torpedoes were slow, easy to dodge or hit with a ray beam. They -had been abandoned in modern combat. But they were the most powerful -explosive force ever created by human science.</p> - -<p>In the control room there was nothing to hint at success, or failure. -But McPartland knew the torpedoes couldn't be seen or destroyed with -ray beams in this etherless black. Nothing could halt the methodical -blasting. Jon grinned. The super-science of the plotters made it -possible to use an obsolete weapon against them.</p> - -<p>"What if some miss the edge?" asked Clemens anxiously. The <i>Avenger</i> -was running around the circumference of the satellite, following a -course that drew ever-tighter circles until the last torpedo was -delivered in the exact center.</p> - -<p>"The fuse is set to explode them before they reach the Earth," -McPartland told him. "But none will miss."</p> - -<p>There was silence then in the room, except for the unending duet of -Parek and McTavish, coming sharp and clear through the ship phone. The -three officers braced their legs hard against the deck, as the ship -raced at maximum speed into sharper turns.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>In the end, the <i>Avenger</i> seemed to whip around almost in its own -length. Jon balanced himself with effort, his stomach rising within -him. He was giddy and nauseated. His eyes strained for something to -focus on, to give him perspective. There was nothing. He was still -blind.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"We blasted every foot on that side of the moon," McPartland said -bitterly, "but we didn't get the machinery."</p> - -<p>"No, man," agreed McTavish who had come up to the control room again. -"That cursed devil's mantle is still there!"</p> - -<p>The Captain's blue eyes burned into the forward screen. "They're -waiting on Terra Base, too," he grated. "But we'd see the break first. -The light would come back at the edges, and—" he stumbled over the -implication of the next words, "work-in-toward-the-center!"</p> - -<p>McTavish's grey eyes blazed suddenly. "In toward the center, man! -Right! But the moon isn't at the center!"</p> - -<p>Jon was already shouting into the phone: "Observation Officer. Locate -the exact center of that area, in relation to this ship, Terra, and -Luna.</p> - -<p>"Navigation! Get bearings from Observation, and plot torpedo course for -dead center."</p> - -<p>"This will do it, Sir," shouted the Engineer. "I should have thought of -it, Sir, begging your pardon."</p> - -<p>"It may be well protected, Sir," Clemens suggested.</p> - -<p>Clemens quietly relayed the report from Observation: "Impossible -to locate exact center, Sir. Whole area is shifting constantly, -unpredictably." He shot a look of glum satisfaction at McTavish, and -added: "The approximate center is on the far side of Terra and Luna, -Sir."</p> - -<p>"A space ship," McPartland said savagely, "flying an erratic course. We -don't have much chance finding it with a torpedo."</p> - -<p>"The torpedoes can be adjusted for magnetism, Sir," said the Engineer.</p> - -<p>McPartland smiled. "If the torpedoes were floating free in space and we -can adjust them to do that—the field would attract them to any ship -within a Spacial Unit.</p> - -<p>"Mister McTavish, I want to sow a hundred of them as magnetic space -mines in the approximate center of your devil's mantle."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>McTavish released his torpedoes into the blackness. One by one they -blasted off. The three in the control room watched their fiery jets -disappear into the emptiness of the forward screen.</p> - -<p>"They'll go dead and float," McPartland told Clemens, "and explode on -contact." He clenched his big hands, and laughed harshly. "If we could -only see it!"</p> - -<p>"How long, Sir?" Reynolds asked quietly. "Will it be soon enough?"</p> - -<p>"It's got to be soon enough," the Captain snapped.</p> - -<p>"If Marshal Denton surrenders, Sir," Clemens pointed out, "and the -light is restored, the outlaws would see the mines. They could—"</p> - -<p>The Engineer's voice rang in his headset, and he winced. The others -heard McTavish's words over the phone: "The light! The light, man! They -hit one of the torpedoes!"</p> - -<p>"We hope—" Clemens said.</p> - -<p>Jon's glance swept to the forward screen. Starlight was cutting -into the edges of the blackness. He watched that hated blackness -shrink—shrink, until Terra floated blue and beautiful oh the view -screen.</p> - -<p>"Terra," Jon whispered, half to himself, "Whose Terra?"</p> - -<p>The Lieutenant-Commander winced again as another voice rang in his -ears, and he relayed without an attempt at pessimism: "Observation -reports wreckage of ship, Sir, and presence of ninety-eight floating -mines."</p> - -<p>McPartland spoke into the phone himself: "Navigation. Course for Terra -Base. Pass through mined area. Mister Reynolds would like a little -practice—destroying the extra mines."</p> - -<p>Reynolds, a grateful smile on his round face, ran his finger lovingly -over the calculators, and spoke into his mike: "All ray stations. Fire -on command only." The calculators clicked. "Station Six, range—"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Almira Denton looked up at Captain Jon McPartland with eyes that were -the soft hue of Terra itself.</p> - -<p>"Almira," he said, "about that—that case report."</p> - -<p>She smiled, and the curve of her soft lips was as it had been in his -mind since he left on patrol. "Jon darling," she laughed. "We can -forget that. When the Congress gets through ferreting out its traitors, -and hearing your report, father won't need my help with them."</p> - -<p>"But I want you to analyze me," he insisted.</p> - -<p>"I mean to, Jon," she agreed gently. "But only for my own information."</p> - -<p>"And mine, too, darling," he said. "I want you to analyze a dream," -McPartland said firmly. "I keep seeing a little asteroid—one I -explored when I had a one-man Patrol scout, way back. I keep seeing it -with an atmosphere unit installed, and a Terra-gravity unit. There's a -house, and a beautiful woman with red-gold hair and gorgeous eyes, and -a little boy named Patrick, and a little girl named Kathleen."</p> - -<p>He paused, watching her eyes as the puzzlement was replaced by -understanding. "What do you suppose the dream means?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Tell me more about it, Jon," Almira asked softly.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Battlefield in Black, by George A. 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Whittington - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Battlefield in Black - -Author: George A. Whittington - -Release Date: November 2, 2020 [EBook #63604] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BATTLEFIELD IN BLACK *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - Battlefield In Black - - By GEORGE A. WHITTINGTON - - The _Avenger_ was waging its deadliest - fight--in a battlefield where weapons were useless. - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories Fall 1945. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -A lovely image shimmered on the visa-phone screen in Captain Jon -McPartland's cabin. He stood before the instrument, drinking in the -vision with his eyes, and feeling it race through his blood like a -rocket wash. But his square jaw was set in a determined line, and his -big hands were clenched hard. - -The vision was Almira Denton, whose hair was a red-gold nebula, whose -eyes were the cool green of Terra itself. To Jon McPartland, she was -much more than just the daughter of his superior, Marshal Denton, -Supreme Commander of all Solar System forces. - -A memory of her soft lips had been with him through long weeks of -dangerous outer planet patrol. Now, bringing his sleek battle cruiser, -_Avenger_, homeward, he reached toward her over maximum visa-phone -range. Jon tried to keep anger from his blue eyes as he answered her -suggestion. - -"Almira, I don't care if you are a full-blown psychologist now and -aching to qualify for the Congress of Specialists! You can't make a -case report out of me." - -"Now, Jon, dear," pleaded the girl softly, "you know how father needs -help with Congress. Our scientists make the laws--but they think of -science, and neglect System Defenses. I could make them listen!" - -There was persuasion in her throaty voice that convinced McPartland she -could do exactly that. He knew, too, there was real cause for worry -about System Defense. The planets had long been disarmed. Only the -Congress of Specialists had power to maintain armed forces. - -It had neglected bases and fighting units for years. The Space Patrol -alone remained as a weapon for law and safety--and it took all the -fighting heart of Marshal Denton to get purchase credits for that! If -invaders ever struck-- - -Jon shuddered, his anger slipping away. "I know, Almira," he murmured, -"I know. But why serve me up to the Specialists on a platter? You can -psychoanalyze somebody else." - -Almira shook her radiant head in dissent. "The Eligibility Committee -only certifies candidates for election if they present outstanding work. - -"An analysis of you would be outstanding because you're a popular hero, -Jon. You've just destroyed a powerful alien ship--been promoted! I'd be -certified. Earth would elect me to Congress!" - - * * * * * - -She stood before the visa-phone in the Denton home. Jon McPartland -visualized her among the Specialists. He could see her slim, perfect -figure in abbreviated formal dress, arresting attention like a shaft of -warm sunshine in a musty vault. The Specialists would listen to her! - -An emotion from below his consciousness pushed the realization aside. -He was a man, and this was the woman he loved! "Almira," he said -slowly, "I wouldn't mind if it were someone else--but I can't--I won't -be just a guinea pig to you!" - -The girl came closer to the screen, her eyes alight with eagerness. -"Think of what it would mean to the Marshal, Jon--and to the Patrol! -You'd be a perfect subject Jon. You're--well, impulsive, and--" - -"Before you studied psychology," he flared, "you called me -quick-tempered, maladjusted!" - -McPartland felt the muscles bunch along his jaw, and drew anger from -the memory of a long forgotten quarrel to force back a sick heaviness -in his stomach. "Maybe I am all that, Almira--even atavistic, you said -then. But I'm more than a specimen in a glass box." - -He stopped suddenly. Almira's beautiful face had faded from the -visa-phone screen. There had been no cut-off click from her instrument, -but she was gone. - -"Almira," Jon called sharply, "Almira." There was no answer. His screen -remained grey and empty. The connection was broken. - -McPartland's blue eyes narrowed, as he shot out a big hand to pick up -the intra-ship phone. He jabbed the Radio Room button vigorously. - -"Holdern speaking," came the Radio Officer's crisp, efficient voice. - -"I was talking to Terra over visa-phone," snapped the Captain. "Did you -cut me?" - -"No, sir!" came the instant reply, with a shocked intake of breath. -"The ether is yours, Captain," Holdern added, recovering his dramatic -flair in the next second. - -"Then why is my instrument dead?" - -"My controls are in order, Sir," said the Radio Officer. "May I send a -machinist's mate to look at the instrument?" - -"Carry on, Mister," agreed McPartland, smiling suddenly. Best crew -in the System, he told himself. His officers acted fast, without -hesitation or alibi. "Report progress to the Control Room." - -With a last disgusted frown at the visa-phone, McPartland left his -cabin and walked through the narrow corridor to the Control Room. As he -entered, Lieutenant-Commander Clemens turned from the view screen, his -face achieving a masterpiece in worry. - -"I was about to inform the Engineer, Sir," said the second-in-command, -"The view screen is not functioning properly." - -Engineer McTavish looked up from a chess game with Ray Control Officer -Reynolds. Neither of the two had much to do in the way of duty, now -that the patrol trip was ended. But the Control Room gave them an alert -feeling to spice their chess board feud. - -At the Lieutenant-Commander's words, McTavish rose with an alacrity -that suggested a game not going to his liking. He reached the view -screen with McPartland. - -Most of the screen seemed normal. The three curved segments, -representing joined fields of space extending around the sides and -aft of the _Avenger_, showed the normal inky, star-studded black. But -it was different with the forward screen. In the center, where the -growing image of their green home planet should have been, was only -blackness--unrelieved emptiness. - -"From the looks of that, Mister McTavish," the Captain said sternly, -"you have a few stalemated wires." - - * * * * * - -The Engineer's thin face flushed. His long nose twitched, and his -grey eyes smouldered with professional indignation. "Begging your -pardon, Sir," he objected. "If any coordinates had failed, the entire -screen would blank out--and stay blanked, until I was notified. I -would authorize partial operation only while the condition was being -adjusted, Sir." - -"Do you mean," asked Lieutenant-Commander Clemens, his voice dropping -ominously, and one arm gesturing heavily at the empty blotch, -"that--that--" - -"That whatever you see is there," finished McTavish. "Or isn't there," -he amended drily. - -Captain McPartland saw Ray Control Officer Roberts get up quietly -from before the chess board, and walk over to his station. Roberts, -his round face impassive, brown eyes thoughtful, slid into the chair -before his microphone, and ran long, slim fingers lovingly over his -calculators. - -The Engineer, too, at a nod from Jon moved over to his station. -His grey eyes were soft with pride as they looked over the exact -scale replica of the _Avenger_ on the table before him. Within the -transparent hull, vari-colored filaments glowed with the pulse of the -ship, tracing out the perfect functioning of every mechanism. - -McPartland looked at the other, then back at the view screen, and his -full lips tightened. He could feel the tenseness of the three officers -as he spoke into the intra-ship. - -"Get me Terra Patrol Base on the ship visa-phone," he ordered Radio -Officer Holdern. - -"Sorry, Sir," was the crisp response, "I've been trying to raise Terra -since the machinist's mate found your instrument in perfect order. -Terra doesn't answer!" - -Jon's blue eyes hardened. "Get Mars Patrol Base!" he said softly. - -As he moved to the visa-phone, Clemens took over the intra-ship, -plugging in his headset. His gloomy expression deepened when the -instrument buzzed immediately. - -"Navigation reports integrators acting improperly, Sir," he relayed. -"Radar shows negative from direction of Terra." - -"Impossible!" the Captain gasped, face suddenly wooden. - -"Lieutenant Parek's exact comment, Sir," Clemens said sadly. He ran a -nervous hand through thinning blond hair beneath his headset. His pale -eyes were expectant. - -"Tell Navigation to hold course," McPartland said calmly. Something -in his voice super-charged the already taut atmosphere of the Control -Room, bringing an eager smile to the face of Engineer McTavish. - -As though in response, the visa-phone hummed, and its screen glowed. -The image formed was a young officer, an officer with a wisp of blond -mustache and a pale face forced into disciplined blankness by a -straining will. - - * * * * * - -Some of the weariness left the younger man's haunted eyes as he saluted -Captain McPartland. He spoke, his lips moving rapidly, but the words -were gibberish. - -"Radio, scramble for ship code," Lieutenant-Commander Clemens said into -the intra-ship. He turned to the Captain. "I hope they have the right -code, Sir." - -"--extreme emergency, Sir," came the voice of the officer from Mars -Base. "Deemed it advisable to use code." - -"Very commendable, Mister," McPartland acknowledged, tersely. "My -compliments to the Admiral, and may I speak to him at once." - -"I'm sorry, Sir," said the other, "the Admiral is at Terra Base with -the major fleet units. I am Lieutenant Browne, commanding." - -"Commanding!" exploded Jon. "Then the base must be almost empty!" - -"There is only a maintenance crew here," admitted the Lieutenant -wearily, and added defensively, "It's the same at Jupiter Base, Sir. - -"All ranking officers are at Terra Base with the battleships, to -receive instruction in the use of new equipment the Specialists have -perfected--You know, Captain, defense against mono-charge rays." - -"Yes," groaned McPartland, "I know. The Specialists strip our Bases -to make a big ceremony--of the only thing they've done for the Patrol -in decades. And now--" He squared his broad shoulders, biting back -the rest. "I have an urgent report. Who is ranking officer outside of -Terra?" - -"You are, Sir. I was about to radio you, when your call came through." -Browne saluted again and drew himself up rigidly, as he went on: - -"I beg to report, Captain, that we have lost radio contact with Terra -Base. Telescopic observation reveals--" his voice faltered and the -lines worked more deeply into his white face--"reveals, Sir, _no trace_ -of Terra, Luna, or the stars and planets normally visible--throughout a -spherical area six-hundred-thousand miles in diameter." - -The Lieutenant paused. McPartland said nothing. His square jaw was -straining, as though to knot his face into the same hard fist as each -of his great hands. - -On the face of Engineer McTavish, the eager smile had frozen. Ray -Control Officer Reynolds let his restless fingers fall motionless on -the table before him. Clemens' small, regular features were swept -blank by an apprehension too intense to be mirrored. - -All of them strained to hear Browne's concluding words, in a voice that -was suddenly a whisper: "Within that area is an absolute blackness we -cannot penetrate by radio, radar, or telescope!" - -"Thank you, Mister," the Captain acknowledged, "that checks with our -own observation." He was not aware of his own voice, the cold, slow -words could have been spoken by some one else. "Have you contacted -Jupiter Base?" - -"Yes, Sir," Lieutenant Browne answered eagerly, "they too agree." - -"Very good," McPartland said. "Stand alert. I will contact you later." -His hand reached for the switch. - -Alarm leaped into Browne's face. "Captain! Sir! Are there no further -orders? Four Patrol ships are on outer patrol--May I suggest--" - - * * * * * - -McPartland's full lips curved into a tight, mirthless smile, below the -sudden flame in his blue eyes. "Mister, the Fleet is at Terra Base. If -it can't--" He let the sentence stop unfinished, and added quietly: -"This ship can handle more than those light cruisers." - -"I beg your pardon, Sir," Lieutenant Browne murmured. A second later, -his image faded from the screen. - -From the corner of his eye, Jon saw the others watching the empty -screen, as though waiting for the vanished officer to ask the question -that was in their minds. Lieutenant-Commander Clemens, however, shook -his head mournfully, anticipating his superior's next act, and stepping -aside from the intra-ship. - -The Captain reached for the instrument, punching down the lever for -Navigation. "Lieutenant Parek," he said clearly, "take absolute solar -bearings at once--plot a blind course for Terra Base." - -He heard McTavish release his breath in a soft satisfied, whistle, -even as Parek's monotonous tenor replied: "Bearings taken, Sir. Course -plotted, Sir. Ready to proceed." - -"Good man! He's ahead of us," exclaimed Engineer McTavish, his gray -eyes dancing. "There's a brain behind that sing-song voice, after all! -Begging your pardon, Sir," he added to Jon. - -McPartland shot the Engineer a quick glance and nodded. The two of them -shared their pride in the _Avenger_: McTavish in the ship itself, the -Captain in the officers and crew as well. And both of them sensed, with -Clemens and Roberts, that the whole, delicate, balanced entity, the -_Avenger_, would find battle in the blackness ahead. - -The Captain turned back to the intra-ship. "Proceed on course, Mister," -he ordered. "Full speed ahead! Reduce to quarter-speed when we enter -the area. Be prepared to operate ship in absolute lack of visibility!" - -"Yes, Sir," the Navigation Officer acknowledged, laconically. - -"Begging your pardon, Sir," McTavish said fiercely, as his commanding -officer turned away from the phone, "absolute lack of visibility. We -will have interior lights, Sir--I guarantee it--at least the emergency -circuits." - -Clemens turned his pale blue, worried eyes of the Engineer. "Light, -Mister? Light, if we can see it! There's light in and beyond that--that -place ahead, but we can't see it!" he said mournfully. - -"Man, there's an interference screen," the Engineer snapped. "Once -we're through it, we'll see what's going on." He jerked his lanky -frame up from his chair suddenly, his thin nose twitching excitedly, -and turned to McPartland. "The screen may play merry havoc with our -machinery, Sir. Perhaps we should hit at full speed and let our -momentum crash us through." - -Ray Control Officer Reynolds answered the other's first assertion. "A -spherical interference screen, Mister?" he asked quietly. "Six hundred -thousand miles in diameter! We know how much equipment it takes for a -protective screen around this ship--and that screen doesn't stop light -or radio." - -McTavish's grey eyes widened. "Man, that's right! It would be a -fantastic job." But he insisted stubbornly: "As long as there's ether -in there, we'll have light!" - -"I don't believe there's ether in there," Jon interposed thoughtfully. -"That's the only answer. Radar waves would be reflected from a screen -of any sort--but our beams simply vanish." - -Clemens gasped. "Then the fluorescent markings on our controls--we -won't see them!" he said anxiously. "Light travels through ether--" - -"Mister McTavish," McPartland interrupted curtly, "get your men -and rig up a fixture for Lieutenant Parek. He'll have to work by -touch--everything must be at his fingertips." - -"Yes, Sir," the Engineer responded briskly. He glanced respectfully at -his commanding officer; McTavish's thin face brightened as he saw the -strength of the Captain's reasoning, and found himself with a job he -could handle. He started out of the control room. - -"There won't be much time, Mister," Jon reminded him. - -"Begging your pardon, Sir, we won't need much." - -With that, the officer was gone. - -Again Jon smiled proudly, and turned to where his Lieutenant-Commander -waited. "Mister Clemens, open all switches on the intra-phone, and -order all stations switched open to the control room. You will relay -any necessary messages between stations." - -Clemens clamped on his headset, and his hands went over the switches -rapidly. "Attention, all stations. All stations." - -"You may inform the men of the situation and our plans," Jon added, -quietly. - -Ray Control Officer Reynolds caught his gaze, his large brown eyes -thoughtful. "May I suggest, Sir, a fixture for the ray guns? I can -operate my calculators, and know the results by sound--but the -gunners--" - -"Disintegrator rays," Jon reminded him, "travel through ether, as does -light. So do your range-finder beams." - -"Of course, Sir!" Reynolds said, his round face startled and dismayed. -He ran his fingers over his keyboards slowly. "That means, Sir, that -we--" - -"We will be weaponless in there," McPartland finished grimly. "A -lifeboat with an old fashioned powder cannon and explosive shells could -finish us off." He laughed harshly. "If it could find us!" - - * * * * * - -The Forward view-screen was entirely blanked out. A line was rapidly -moving along the side screens--a line that erased the stars and drew a -portent for the men in the control room of the _Avenger_. - -Jon McPartland's steady gaze flicked from that line back to the empty -forward screen. His blue eyes burned into that emptiness. Somewhere in -there was Terra Base--and at Terra Base was Almira Denton! - -Whatever the force that had closed silently around the Earth, it -had stilled the heart of the solar system. The planets waited, Jon -knew, restlessly, breathlessly; for the whole intricate, interworld -civilization drew its life from the great industries of Terra. Let -those industries stop, or be taken over by enemies, and all the planets -would be at the mercy of those enemies. - -And the only military power which the Supreme System Congress could -call upon was at Terra Base. McPartland imagined the great space -battleships--cramped into overhaul cradles--the crews dispersed on -leave. Slight chance to get them off in the blackness--even if crews -could be assembled--even if they had any place to go! - -But the _Avenger_ had some place to go! McPartland's ship had a -crew--and it could fight! - -"We'll fight," Jon told himself savagely. "We'll win! And Almira--if--" -He didn't finish even the thought. Instead he visualized the lovely -oval of her face--with the green eyes set in like twin, glowing -emeralds. - -The sudden jarring blast of the forward rockets brought Jon's gaze -around to the side screens. They were almost completely blanked out. -Only a thin slice of normal space remained. They were entering the -area, and Lieutenant Parek was braking. - -"Man, that wasn't too soon," McTavish said tensely. Clemens said -nothing, his face carefully set in a harried expression he would retain -even when invisible. Reynolds looked up dejectedly from his desk, his -hand resting protectively on the calculators that would be useless to -them. The Captain moved over to the intra-ship, standing close beside -his Lieutenant-Commander. - -They waited silently. Jon was looking at the Engineer's eager smile, as -the retarding rocket blasts died away. McTavish nodded, counting the -drumming explosions from the stern and feeling the vibration of the -ship with an intimate knowledge. - -"We're at quarter speed, Sir," he said, as the Captain heard the -Navigation Officer's clear, even voice over the intra-ship speaker: - -"Quarter speed, Sir. On course." - -The last two words fell into complete blackness. Jon felt the pupils -of his eyes straining, opening for the least trace of light. There was -none. He could hear the slow breathing of the others, and a few low -exclamations through the open switches of the intra-ship. - -"Carry on, Lieutenant," he ordered, and let his breath out of his -lungs slowly. "Mister McTavish," he added, "here's something to add to -your technical knowledge: electricity does not need ether--whether it -travels around or within wires." - -"Thank you, Sir," came the Engineer's ironic reply like a sound without -origin in the well of blackness that closed in on Jon from every side. -"I had reached the same conclusion, Sir." - -"We are running on batteries, Sir," Clemens relayed from beside him. -"The cyclotron has stopped functioning." - -"The batteries will be enough, Sir," came the Engineer's voice. "I -arranged an automatic out-in, Sir. I knew electrons couldn't bombard -atoms without ether to travel through." - -"Good work, Mister!" said McPartland. - -"Thank you, Sir." - - * * * * * - -The Captain said nothing more. He was listening to the steady drum of -the stern rockets. The explosive charges were fired by electric spark. -All the functional mechanism of the ship was operated electrically. - -His ship could travel. They would reach Terra. There was nothing to -do but wait--wait in an emptiness that brought a man to the edge of -insanity. - -It was eerie, this feeling of isolation. Only the rocket jets seemed -alive, pushing the _Avenger_ ahead. Jon put out his hand and felt the -phone. It was warm under his fingers. He shivered in the warm air of -the control room. Suddenly he had to speak, to reach the others in this -Stygian pit. - -"It must be bitter cold on Terra," he said evenly, "without sunshine, -without heat drawn from the central power beams." - -Near him, Clemens sighed heavily. Reynolds' fingers drummed over his -keyboard. It was McTavish who answered: - -"Aye, Sir," he said, his words edged with rage, "a few days of this and -Terra would be a frozen wasteland." - -McPartland clenched his great fists harder. "There won't be a few -days!" he grated. "Whoever's behind this will want Terra and her -industries--and her people--in working order." - -"You think it's human beings?" came the Engineer's question. "I hadn't -thought--" - -"It has to be," Jon reasoned. "The timing is perfect, and so is the -strategy. Striking the heart of the Solar System--when the Patrol is -there and helpless. They knew." - -"Outlaws." Reynolds commented quietly. - -"More than that, man!" exploded McTavish. "There's science here. It -takes science--genius--to eliminate the ether! It's never been done -before!" - -"I think you're right, Mister," McPartland said. His words fell with an -inflection as soft and deadly as the impenetrable blackness about them. -"There's science here--and outlaws, armed desperate men who would dare -to try this. - -"It's treason. Specialists and outlaws in an unholy alliance, trying -for a _coup d'etat_--for power over the whole system! There'll be a -demand for surrender." - -"A black plot," quipped McTavish. But the others could hear the angry -quickening of his breath. - -"What choice will the Congress have but surrender?" Clemens asked sadly. - -The Captain smashed the flat of his hand against the intra-ship phone -before him. "_WE_ have the choice! We are fighters! There can't be -many of them in the plot--or it would have leaked out. They need the -blackness for protection." - -"Your logic is sound, Sir," said the calm voice of the Ray Control -Officer. "But how will we reach them--how will we fight them?" - -The others couldn't see McPartland's broad shoulders sag momentarily at -the question. He thought of Almira Denton somewhere in Terra Base, and -bunching muscles snapped his shoulders back. - -"We'll find out when we land," he answered slowly. - -"That'll be soon, man!" McTavish cried suddenly. - -They felt the _Avenger_ lurch, and quiver as port and forward rocket -tubes thundered. Jon looked upward to where the view screens hung. -Those screens should be splashed with a riot of color as the ship -changed course and plunged through the jet wash. But nothing was -visible to Jon's straining eyes. He heard the Engineer explaining: - -"Parek has a mechanical timer rigged with an alarm, to tell him when to -correct course." - - * * * * * - -McPartland thought for a moment of the officer down below, sitting -motionless, his hands strapped into fixtures. The empty seconds would -be eternities, while he listened to the monotonous ticking of the -timer. Then the strident alarm would shatter his nerves, and his -fingers search the guide wires for the right controls. - -"Can he do it?" Clemens murmured anxiously, as though reading his -commander's thought. - -"If he can't, there isn't a Navigator in the System who can," the other -said tightly. - -All of them could feel the deck sloping. The _Avenger_ was heading -down. Parek was feeling for Terra Base, balancing the forces of the -retarding and propulsion jets, listening to the beat of the timer. - -McTavish, too, was feeling for their goal. "Steady, man, steady," -he said aloud, his sense attuned to the ship's familiar vibrations. -"Landing speed, now," he added. - -All of them braced their legs against the increasing tilt of the floor. -They rocked on their feet, as Parek poured a richer mixture into the -blast tubes. - -For a long second the _Avenger_ hung balanced on her jets. Every -spaceman aboard her felt his heart stop. Then the ship settled. There -was a bump. A moment of rocking, and they had landed! - -McPartland spoke into the intra-ship phone: "Attention all stations! -All hands remain at their posts until further orders." He turned from -the instrument, trying again to find those about him. "Mister McTavish. -You will go out with me. - -"Mister Clemens, you are in command. Take no action without orders from -me--or Marshal Denton himself." - -"Very good, Sir," replied the Lieutenant-Commander. - -"I am at the door, Sir," said the Engineer. - -"Good. Mister Reynolds will close the port behind us. No one is to -enter the ship, Mister Clemens, unless accompanied by myself or the -Marshal. We don't know what the situation is here, and we can't take -chances. Is that clear?" - -"Very clear, Sir," Clemens answered, his tone anxious. "Mister Reynolds -will remain at the port, and open it only as instructed." - -The three of them groped down the passage. At the port, McPartland -spoke into the blackness: "I've switched on audiphone, Mister Reynolds. -You will open the port only to my voice or that of Marshal Denton." - -"Yes, Sir," was the answer, the words spoken almost into his ear. - -Jon reached out and found the other's arm. The Captain's fingers -gripped hard, biting into muscle. "We'll soon have the answer to your -question," he said softly. "If the Patrol still holds the Base--" - -"Good luck, Sir," replied the Ray Control Officer quietly. "We'll be -waiting to follow you--anywhere." - -The Captain found his Engineer in the well of pitch about him. There -was reassurance in the other's tense, firm shoulder. Together, they -went through the port, and heard Reynolds shut it behind them. - - * * * * * - -A sharp rattle of explosions sounded in the distance, off to their -left. "Man!" gasped McTavish, "that sounds like--" - -"Like a machine-gun," finished his commander. "An old-fashioned -explosive powder weapon. Ray guns are useless, of course, without -ether." - -"There's fighting," the Engineer cried eagerly. A single louder -explosion came from the left. The sound hung in the air, muffled and -distorted. "A grenade," McTavish added mechanically. "It was thrown -into a building--you can tell by the echoes." - -"The repair docks," Jon said. "The walls are thick enough." - -"That's where the battleships are," the Engineer said dully, his -excitement draining into apprehension. "Who's got them, and who's -attacking? If the plotters have taken the docks and the fleet--" - -"The fleet's useless," snapped the Captain, "in this blackness. The -plotters can't man it anyway--they'll want to immobilize it, and keep -it intact until they've won. - -"It's the old arsenal I'm thinking about. We need that for--" - -"Hist, man!" warned McTavish, suddenly. "There's someone near us." - -"Who goes there?" challenged a voice sharply. "You're surrounded, and -you'll get cold steel if you don't surrender." - -Jon laughed. "Did you surround the _Avenger_, too, Marshal?" he asked -ironically. "We're standing directly beside it." - -He heard a sudden feminine sob of relief, and soft words that sent the -blood throbbing to his temples: "Oh, Jon--Jon darling." - -Another voice cut in brusquely: "This is no time for melodramatics, -daughter. - -"Jon, I was sure it was you. Who else would try to fly a ship in this? -But we couldn't take chances. We had to find out and warn you before -you blundered into the enemy!" - -"We were on the lookout, Sir," the Captain assured him. He could -imagine Marshal Denton; sturdy, tall, handsome. The Marshal's gray eyes -would be flashing there in the blackness, and the snow-white hair piled -on his massive head would make him look more than ever like a noble old -lion. - -"What have you to report, Captain?" Denton asked tautly. - -Jon told him briefly of their position and actions since he'd first -found communications with Terra cut. As he spoke, a soft hand found -his. Jon slipped his arm about Almira's slim waist, and drew her close. -Her head sank to his shoulder. - -He felt her stir with amazement, and her little hands gripped his arms, -as he told the Marshal his suspicions of an alliance between outlaws -and some of the Specialists. - -"It might be," murmured Denton. "There's a small bloc that has -consistently opposed requests for credits to enlarge and strengthen the -Patrol." - -"What's the situation here, Sir?" McPartland asked eagerly. "Has there -been an ultimatum--a demand for surrender? Where is the Congress?" - -"The Specialists are in session," Marshal Denton told him. "You can -imagine the confusion! They're getting nowhere. - -"There's been no demand made yet--though I think you're right and one -will come!" - -He was silent for a minute. Jon's hands clenched. "What about here at -the Base, Sir?" - -"When the darkness fell, the repair crews and guards in the docks were -attacked immediately by men armed with grenades and firearms," Denton -explained. "Most of our personnel there was captured or driven out. - -"Fortunately I was here. I armed a squad with firearms from the old -arsenal, and attacked. We've got them pinned in the docks. They can't -get out--and we can't get in." - -"The plotters must have overlooked the arsenal," Jon mused aloud, "or -they didn't know about it." He could imagine the tense hurried minutes -that Denton described so calmly. - - * * * * * - -The Marshal had thought and moved rapidly. Squads were needed to -lay cables or ropes to mark paths in the blackness. Men were armed -and moved up to attack the docks. It was a brilliant mind that had -surrounded the attackers and organized communications and supplies for -the Patrolmen. - -"Congratulations, Sir," McPartland said admiringly, and added soberly, -"I imagine there isn't much news from the rest of Terra." - -He heard Marshal Denton sigh heavily. "No, Jon. There's some -communication over old electric-type instruments. In some places -there's rioting. Everywhere, it's cold, and people are frightened and -disorganized. There hasn't been time for lack of food to make itself -felt." - -"Stuff could move over the railroads, Sir," cut in McTavish. - -"The Specialists have forbidden that," the Marshal told him. "Because -of danger of accidents." - -"Accidents!" snapped the Engineer scornfully. "Worrying about accidents -at a time like this!" - -Jon spoke impatiently. "May I suggest Sir, that you send a body of -men to Congress. Surround the building, cut outside communications. -When the darkness lifts, search every Congressman, and arrest any -found with firearms. You can bet the plotters will be armed. But the -Congress will have to be suspended until every member is thoroughly -investigated!" - -He felt Almira stiffen in his arms, and heard McTavish exclaim: "Good, -man!" - -"Suspend the Congress--" Marshal Denton repeated, shocked. "Jon, you--" - -"It's an emergency, Sir," McPartland urged. "It's war. You're the -supreme military commander. You have the right to act on your own -initiative whenever the Congress of Specialists cannot function. They -can't function now! You can't let them be stampeded into surrender. -There must be no surrender!" - -For a long minute, there was silence in the blackness about him. "I'll -do it, Jon!" Denton said at last. "Captain Wendall!" - -A man answered somewhere beyond him. Denton gave swift orders, and the -other moved away. "My men will be at the Congress in five minutes, -Jon," the Marshal said. "Now, just how do you propose to fight this -thing? We have to be right, now, you know. We must win--or be executed -as traitors!" - -"I want the _Avenger_ loaded with space torpedoes, Sir. We have -hundreds in the arsenal," McPartland explained. "I believe the logical -place for the ether dissipating machinery would be on the far side of -the moon. The outlaws and their Specialist friends could have worked -there without fear of discovery." - -Denton was already giving orders to another officer. "We'll have your -ship loaded in minutes, Captain," he said. "You're right about the -moon--we don't even patrol that side. You intend to--" - -"To blast every square inch of its surface," Jon said fiercely, "from -space. Once we destroy the machinery, and lift the blackness, we'll -make short work of the plotters. The _Avenger_ could do the job alone!" - -"Good!" said the Marshal. "I hope your theory is sound. We haven't much -time to experiment." - -"No," said Almira suddenly. "Millions of people would die in rioting, -accidents, from starvation--if light--if the ether isn't restored! We'd -have to surrender before that happened." - -"What would those millions gain," McPartland demanded savagely, -"better than death--under the rule of outlaws and traitors?" - - * * * * * - -Almira pulled away from him. Her fingers slipped from his. "It is -modern," she said coolly, "to preserve life, not throw it away in -hopeless resistance! If you fail, we must surrender." - -"I'm afraid she's right, Jon," Marshal Denton's voice added quietly. - -Jon's angry retort stopped on his tongue, as a strong hand clamped his -arm. McTavish whispered, somehow finding his Captain's ear: "We'll -still have the _Avenger_, Sir, to fight in--let them surrender who -will." - -McPartland fought back his rage. The Engineer was right. It was no -time to debate. It was time to start the fight. "I'll instruct my -men, Marshal Denton," he said, "about the space torpedoes. The things -haven't been used in battle for decades, and they'll be tricky to -handle." - -"We've laid a cable line directly to the ship, Sir," an invisible -officer beside him said respectfully. "You can follow it with your -feet." - -"Thank you." Jon made his way back, McTavish at his heels, and gave -necessary orders to Reynolds at the port. McTavish went inside to -superintend the loading, and Jon followed the cable to the Marshal's -office. - -It was a long, almost silent wait, while the loading went on. There was -little to say. Denton received reports, and issued orders. There was -the murmur of detached voices, and the sound of slow, careful footsteps -in and out of the room. - -Jon sat quietly out of the way. Almira was there somewhere. She did not -speak to Jon, although he heard her soft voice in occasional snatches -of conversation with her father. Jon could imagine her, pale with the -strain of this nightmare, lovely, her green eyes angry and scornful. -She was angry, he knew, angry at his will to resist--to waste, as -she thought, blood and lives in a fight that would seem vain if the -darkness weren't lifted. Almira couldn't know what kind of men the -outlaws were. Jon knew; he'd fought them! - -Restlessly, he started to rise from the chair. The _Avenger_ should be -ready. His feet sought for the cable on the floor, and his eyes found -it first. It took a full second to realize that dim light had returned. - -Denton exclaimed suddenly. The light was growing brighter. Then it was -full daylight, and the Marshal was starting for the door. From outside -came the rattle of firearms, and a hissing that told of many heat rays -flaring into action. The battle for the repair docks! - -"Wait, Sir," McPartland cried to the Marshal, "the visa-phone! This -must be it. The plotters have let the ether back to broadcast their -demands." - -The news channel button on the visa-phone glowed brightly. Denton -snapped the instrument on, and adjusted the wave length. The screen -glowed--empty! Whoever was broadcasting was not projecting his image. -The voice that spoke was harsh, cruel: - -"Citizens of the System," it said bluntly. "The Terra Council for -Freedom has struck for your liberation. We are citizens of Earth who -rise in indignation against the corruption, hypocrisy, and inefficiency -of the Congress of Specialists. Most especially, we rise against the -dictatorship of the man who has used the Congress as his tool--the man -who today holds your alleged representatives prisoner--Marshal Denton, -your ruler, unmasked, at last, in this moment when we strike for your -freedom!" - -The voice paused. For a space there was no sound from behind that -glowing, empty screen. - - * * * * * - -"Dictator!" Marshal Denton bellowed. His handsome face colored, and he -took an involuntary half step toward the visa-phone. "Dictator! Of all -the--the--" He choked off the rest, regaining his poise. - -"Very nice, Jon," murmured Almira. "Your suggestion certainly played -into their hands." - -"One lie is as good as another," he answered. "You should know that -propaganda works on lies." He grinned at them suddenly. "We can guess -from that tirade, that we have the leaders--or some of them imprisoned -with the Congress." - -Almira flushed, and was silent. Denton nodded. "Yes, Jon, I think we -have. But how did they communicate with the others." - -The Captain shrugged. "Probably telegraph. An instrument could be -hidden there, and wires laid well in advance. Listen--" - -From the visa-phone, the hard voice spoke again: "We, the Terra -Council for Freedom demand the immediate surrender of the Congress, -and of Marshal Denton. When Denton has informed the Congress of his -acceptance, our committee will communicate further instructions." - -Another long pause, before the speaker concluded. The words were deadly -with menace: "Citizens of Terra, revolt and overthrow your oppressors! -Until they surrender, Terra will remain a dark, silent world. If they -do not surrender, it will become a dead world soon!" - -The screen brightened suddenly. A man's head and shoulders formed. -The shoulders were broad, powerful. Above them, the face was strong, -bronzed. There was a scar across one cheek that was known throughout -the system. Black eyes blazed with reckless courage, out of deep -sockets. Full, thick lips curved in a crafty smile. - -Jon McPartland clenched his huge fists helplessly. He knew the trail of -murder and robbery behind that animal courage, that scheming smile. The -man was Mark Baron, the most notorious and deadly outlaw still at large! - -"Someday," Jon said savagely, "I'll catch you, Baron!" - -The outlaw was fading from the view, as the screen dimmed. Outside, the -daylight, too, faded. Blackness crowded in again. - -"Very clever," came Almira's voice. "Many people are foolish enough to -think of Mark Baron as a modern Robin Hood." - -"He's the worst kind of criminal," Marshal Denton said bitterly. "But -the ridiculous legends about him will help their propaganda. There will -be panic and rioting now!" - -"Jon, we can't let this go on! We've got to--" - -An officer entered to report. Outside, the firing had dropped off. Ray -guns were again useless. There hadn't been time to recapture the docks. - -"The _Avenger_ is ready, Sir," Jon said, when the officer had left. -"We'll take off at once." - -"Good luck, Captain," the Marshal said dully. "Almira, will you go--" -He left the question unfinished. Jon knew he was thinking of his -daughter, in a world ruled by men like Mark Baron. "Jon!" The older man -said fiercely, "we can't give up!" - -"I'll stay with you, Father," the girl said quietly, refusing Denton's -unspoken plea. "We'll have to be realistic--have to think of the -millions whose lives--" Her soft voice caught. "But, Jon--Jon, good -luck!" - - * * * * * - -Out in space, the starlight was bright and clean. The four men in the -_Avenger's_ control room glued their eyes on the side view screens. -They felt their spirits lift out of the black nightmare that still -covered the forward screen. They were silent, loving the stars and -planets shining back at them, untouched by the evil that blotted out -Terra. - -"It's wonderful, man," said McTavish at Jon's shoulder. - -McPartland nodded. He was surprised somehow to find the control room -unchanged. Reynolds still sat before his calculators. Clemens stood -beside the intra-ship, headphones clamped over his ears. - -The Lieutenant-Commander shuddered with every lurch of the ship. "Those -torpedoes, Sir," he muttered anxiously. "One would blow this ship -apart." - -"Don't worry, Mister," the Engineer reassured him, "we'll get rid of -half of them on the moon." He added to McPartland: "We're launching -them from Ray Station Six." - -"Good! You'd better get down there, Mister McTavish. We'll be heading -in for the moon--but quick!" - -"Yes, Sir." The Engineer left the control room. - -As he passed through the door, McPartland heard the even voice of -Lieutenant Parek on the intra-ship: "Course plotted, Sir. Ready to -proceed." - -"Proceed," the Captain ordered. "Full speed ahead." - -"Full speed?" groaned Clemens, as the ship swung, and they felt the -pull of acceleration. "The vibration, Sir! Those torpedoes." - -Jon grinned. "You know you don't give a hang about those torpedoes, -Mister Clemens--just so we land them where they'll do the job." - -The Lieutenant-Commander looked pained. "Of course, Sir," he agreed -quickly, and added with an effort: "But full speed with no visibility!" -He started as an excited voice rang in his headset, and automatically -relayed the message McPartland could hear clearly through the still -open switches of the intra-ship: "Radio reports Mars Base has observed -us, and is asking for orders." - -"No orders," Jon snapped. "They can't help." - -"Lieutenant Browne's compliments, Sir," responded Radio Officer Holdern -eloquently, "and good luck." - -His words were followed by low exclamations from stations all over the -ship. The _Avenger_ was again enveloped in the pitchy nightmare. Jon -put his hand on the ship phone, aware that Reynolds' fingers once more -were drumming his calculator keys, and Clemens was breathing quickly, -lightly, in time to the quickened beat of the rocket jets. - -There wasn't long to wait this time. The Navigation Officer's -unhurried, emotionless words floated into the Control room: "Ready for -run, Sir." - -McTavish was cut in on a three way connection. "Ready to fire -torpedoes, Sir," he said immediately. - -"Fire at positions," Jon told him. - -He felt the sweep of the ship as she turned, and imagined Parek, -waiting quietly for his alarm. - -"Position one," warned the Navigation Officer, paused, and added -flatly, "dead." - -"Torpedo away," sang the Engineer from Ray Station 6. "Ready again." - -"Position two," Parek responded as his alarm spoke again. "Dead." - -"Away," McTavish told him jubilantly. "Ready." - - * * * * * - -The procedure was repeated over and over. Below them, on the cold -dead surface of the moon, carefully plotted explosions cut a swath of -destruction that could destroy any man-made structure ever raised. -Space torpedoes were slow, easy to dodge or hit with a ray beam. They -had been abandoned in modern combat. But they were the most powerful -explosive force ever created by human science. - -In the control room there was nothing to hint at success, or failure. -But McPartland knew the torpedoes couldn't be seen or destroyed with -ray beams in this etherless black. Nothing could halt the methodical -blasting. Jon grinned. The super-science of the plotters made it -possible to use an obsolete weapon against them. - -"What if some miss the edge?" asked Clemens anxiously. The _Avenger_ -was running around the circumference of the satellite, following a -course that drew ever-tighter circles until the last torpedo was -delivered in the exact center. - -"The fuse is set to explode them before they reach the Earth," -McPartland told him. "But none will miss." - -There was silence then in the room, except for the unending duet of -Parek and McTavish, coming sharp and clear through the ship phone. The -three officers braced their legs hard against the deck, as the ship -raced at maximum speed into sharper turns. - -In the end, the _Avenger_ seemed to whip around almost in its own -length. Jon balanced himself with effort, his stomach rising within -him. He was giddy and nauseated. His eyes strained for something to -focus on, to give him perspective. There was nothing. He was still -blind. - - * * * * * - -"We blasted every foot on that side of the moon," McPartland said -bitterly, "but we didn't get the machinery." - -"No, man," agreed McTavish who had come up to the control room again. -"That cursed devil's mantle is still there!" - -The Captain's blue eyes burned into the forward screen. "They're -waiting on Terra Base, too," he grated. "But we'd see the break first. -The light would come back at the edges, and--" he stumbled over the -implication of the next words, "work-in-toward-the-center!" - -McTavish's grey eyes blazed suddenly. "In toward the center, man! -Right! But the moon isn't at the center!" - -Jon was already shouting into the phone: "Observation Officer. Locate -the exact center of that area, in relation to this ship, Terra, and -Luna. - -"Navigation! Get bearings from Observation, and plot torpedo course for -dead center." - -"This will do it, Sir," shouted the Engineer. "I should have thought of -it, Sir, begging your pardon." - -"It may be well protected, Sir," Clemens suggested. - -Clemens quietly relayed the report from Observation: "Impossible -to locate exact center, Sir. Whole area is shifting constantly, -unpredictably." He shot a look of glum satisfaction at McTavish, and -added: "The approximate center is on the far side of Terra and Luna, -Sir." - -"A space ship," McPartland said savagely, "flying an erratic course. We -don't have much chance finding it with a torpedo." - -"The torpedoes can be adjusted for magnetism, Sir," said the Engineer. - -McPartland smiled. "If the torpedoes were floating free in space and we -can adjust them to do that--the field would attract them to any ship -within a Spacial Unit. - -"Mister McTavish, I want to sow a hundred of them as magnetic space -mines in the approximate center of your devil's mantle." - - * * * * * - -McTavish released his torpedoes into the blackness. One by one they -blasted off. The three in the control room watched their fiery jets -disappear into the emptiness of the forward screen. - -"They'll go dead and float," McPartland told Clemens, "and explode on -contact." He clenched his big hands, and laughed harshly. "If we could -only see it!" - -"How long, Sir?" Reynolds asked quietly. "Will it be soon enough?" - -"It's got to be soon enough," the Captain snapped. - -"If Marshal Denton surrenders, Sir," Clemens pointed out, "and the -light is restored, the outlaws would see the mines. They could--" - -The Engineer's voice rang in his headset, and he winced. The others -heard McTavish's words over the phone: "The light! The light, man! They -hit one of the torpedoes!" - -"We hope--" Clemens said. - -Jon's glance swept to the forward screen. Starlight was cutting -into the edges of the blackness. He watched that hated blackness -shrink--shrink, until Terra floated blue and beautiful oh the view -screen. - -"Terra," Jon whispered, half to himself, "Whose Terra?" - -The Lieutenant-Commander winced again as another voice rang in his -ears, and he relayed without an attempt at pessimism: "Observation -reports wreckage of ship, Sir, and presence of ninety-eight floating -mines." - -McPartland spoke into the phone himself: "Navigation. Course for Terra -Base. Pass through mined area. Mister Reynolds would like a little -practice--destroying the extra mines." - -Reynolds, a grateful smile on his round face, ran his finger lovingly -over the calculators, and spoke into his mike: "All ray stations. Fire -on command only." The calculators clicked. "Station Six, range--" - - * * * * * - -Almira Denton looked up at Captain Jon McPartland with eyes that were -the soft hue of Terra itself. - -"Almira," he said, "about that--that case report." - -She smiled, and the curve of her soft lips was as it had been in his -mind since he left on patrol. "Jon darling," she laughed. "We can -forget that. When the Congress gets through ferreting out its traitors, -and hearing your report, father won't need my help with them." - -"But I want you to analyze me," he insisted. - -"I mean to, Jon," she agreed gently. "But only for my own information." - -"And mine, too, darling," he said. "I want you to analyze a dream," -McPartland said firmly. "I keep seeing a little asteroid--one I -explored when I had a one-man Patrol scout, way back. I keep seeing it -with an atmosphere unit installed, and a Terra-gravity unit. There's a -house, and a beautiful woman with red-gold hair and gorgeous eyes, and -a little boy named Patrick, and a little girl named Kathleen." - -He paused, watching her eyes as the puzzlement was replaced by -understanding. "What do you suppose the dream means?" he asked. - -"Tell me more about it, Jon," Almira asked softly. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Battlefield in Black, by George A. 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