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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..b4d8c7b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69393 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69393) diff --git a/old/69393-0.txt b/old/69393-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4d5fb88..0000000 --- a/old/69393-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5302 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Spacemen lost, by George O. Smith - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Spacemen lost - -Author: George O. Smith - -Release Date: November 20, 2022 [eBook #69393] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPACEMEN LOST *** - - - - - - SPACEMEN LOST - - A Novel by GEORGE O. SMITH - - Illustrated by VIRGIL FINLAY - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Startling Stories Fall 1954. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - - I - -Over the hubbub and chatter came the brief warning wail of a small -siren. The noise died as the people in the vast waiting room stopped -talking. - -"Your attention, please!" boomed the loud-speaker. "Passengers for -Spaceflight Seventy-nine, departing for Castor Three and Pollux Four, -will proceed to Gate Seven for ground transportation to the take-off -block. Spaceflight Seventy-nine, waiting for passengers at Gateway -Seven!" - -There was a moment of silence, then a loud racket burst out as -everybody started talking at once. There was only a small flow -of people toward Gate Seven, almost negligible, because Flight -Seventy-nine was essentially a cargo hop. In fact, this morning less -than a half-dozen headed for the gateway. - -Among these was a tall man, impressive in his blue-black uniform. A -space commodore, no less. He carried the light bag of the woman who -was beside him, proud and happy and eager-looking. But traces of some -internal storm clouded the man's features, and as they approached -Gateway Seven, the man's perturbation worked closer and closer to the -surface until finally it broke through. - -"You could still back out," he said. - -"No, I couldn't," she said. Her own face clouded a bit. - -"Yes, you could," he snapped. - -She stopped ten or fifteen feet from Gateway Seven and turned to face -him. She was pert and pretty in a traveling suit of gray; brand-new for -this occasion. Her name was Alice Hemingway, but she would have swapped -it in a minute to become Mrs. Theodore Wilson, even on a commodore's -salary. - -"Look, Ted," she said slowly. "We've been back and forth over this -argument for a couple of months now. Can't you forget it?" - -"No, I can't," replied Ted Wilson. "I don't like the idea of you taking -to space." - -"I do," she said simply. "I want to see these places you are always -telling me about. I want to see 'em before I'm sixty. It's no fun -listening to your stories, then having you trot off for three or four -months on another jaunt while I sit home alone and wonder where you are -and what's doing." - -"But we--" He paused, thinking. "Alice," he said suddenly, "will you -marry me?" - -A welling of tears came then, but Alice blinked them back. "If -you'd asked me that a month ago I would have said 'Yes,' with no -stipulations, but right now I'll say 'Yes, as soon as I come back, if -you still want me.' Understand?" - -"Not quite." - -"I want you to be dead certain that the reason you want to marry me is -not to keep me from taking this spaceflight." - - * * * * * - -Ted looked down at her. "I'd really like to know if you accepted this -trip just to force me into asking you," he said slowly. - -"You'll never know," she said with a bright smile. - -He swore under his breath. "I still don't like the idea of you trotting -off to Castor Three with that old goat." - -"Mr. Andrews? Old goat? Why Ted! You're jealous." - -"I am." - -"Good. Stay jealous. But don't be an imbecile. Mr. Andrews is merely my -boss, not my lover. He has never so much as watched me walk, let alone -made a pass at me. I couldn't think of him as anything but a boss." - -"But up there--" - -Alice shook her head. "Forget it, Ted. I'm still your girl, and I -intend to stay that way. Even though it's smart for a girl to have a -lover or two before she marries, I'm the old-fashioned one-man type. -Virgin. No hits, no runs, no errors, and no one left on first base." - -"Okay," he said sullenly. - -She smiled up at him again. "Ted," she said seriously, "don't you see -I have to go a-space? You've ducked marriage because you can't see two -people living on a commodore's salary, and also with you flitting off -and leaving me home alone. So you want to wait until you get your next -boost. But that will get you stationed on some planetary post. I'll -get one flight to Base, then be set down for years. Well, until that -time I'm going to travel and see the interstellar sights. I want to see -the Dark Column on Procyon Five, I want to visit the Golden Rainbow on -Castor Three, and toss a penny into the Bottomless Pit on Pollux Four, -and.... Well, I can do these things so long as Mr. Andrews wants me to -travel." - -"But--" - -"Oh, Ted--please!" she cried. - -She clutched at him and buried her face in his shoulder. He held her, -then put a hand under her chin and lifted her face. He kissed her, not -tenderly, but with more of a frantic striving for something beyond -reach. - -The siren wail lifted again and the loud-speaker boomed: - -"Last call for Spaceflight Seventy-nine at Gateway Seven. Will Miss -Alice Hemingway please proceed to Gateway Seven!" - -Reluctantly she withdrew herself from her sweetheart's arms and turned -to the gateway. Ted picked up her small bag and followed her. - -As they reached the gate a smallish, nervous, wiry man with a clipped -gray mustache eyed Alice crisply. - -"Ah, Miss Hemingway, you're just in time," he said. He smiled thinly as -he looked at Ted Wilson. "However, I presume the delay was justified. -Commodore, I think the use of your handkerchief is essential." - -Before Ted could reply, Mr. Andrews had walked through the gateway to -the waiting spaceport bus. Alice turned back to Ted and held up her -face. This time their kiss was less frantic, but also less personal. -It was chaste, and brief, and proper. It promised for the future, but -it did not give any part of that future warmth or passion as a down -payment. - -Then Alice came out of his arms and went through the gateway to climb -into the bus beside her boss. - -As Commodore Wilson turned away, the bus drove off along the road to -the waiting spacecraft. - - * * * * * - -Commodore Wilson entered the base commander's office and smiled -glumly. The commander, Space Admiral Leonard F. Stone, a man of about -forty-five and as lithe and as hard as a man of that age could be, -looked expectant. His command was exacting and just, but he was also -human. - -He said, "What's troubling you, Wilson?" - -"Admiral," Ted Wilson said, "I know it is against the unwritten rules -to discuss the matter of increase in rank, but I wonder if we mightn't -break them for a minute or two." - -"We might if there were proper justification. Why?" - -"A commodore's salary is just a bit meager for marriage," said Wilson -unhappily. - -Stone's face clouded a bit and he nodded seriously. "I know," he -said. "But there's a reason, Ted. We do prefer to keep our commodores -single so long as they're in active flight service. So long as you are -well-fed, well-clothed, and well-housed yourself, the monetary payment -is sufficient to take care of your personal needs. I know it is not -enough to provide for a wife on top of that. Of course, some men do. -And others manage to marry well-to-do women." - -"Mine is not well-to-do, but I don't want to make her do with less." - -"Naturally." - -"Then how about this rank business? I'm about due." - -"You are." - -"Then when can I expect it?" asked Wilson. - -Admiral Stone looked at him determinedly. "You can hasten that process -yourself, Wilson. By acting a bit more for the benefit of the Service -than you have in the past." - -"Why, what do you mean?" - -"There's more to rank than merely following orders to the letter. Now, -you've never disobeyed orders, and it has been obvious that when orders -coincide with your personal ideas, you act eagerly and swiftly. But -when orders are opposed to your pleasure you act at the last moment and -follow them reluctantly along the thin outer edge." - -"For instance?" - -"For instance last November. You had front line tickets to the finish -post of the Armstrong Classic, but you were ordered on a training -flight around and through the Centaurus System, to last no less than -ten days and no more than thirty, at your discretion. You returned in -ten days and four hours, even though you couldn't see the end of the -Armstrong affair. Then, last May you were ordered to Eridanus Seven, -which is a remarkably interesting place as I recall from my early days. -You got home barely under the wire. Twenty-nine days, twenty-three -hours, forty minutes, and a few seconds. Follow?" - -Ted nodded slowly. "I felt that my crew would appreciate my attitude," -he said. - -"Certainly. They did. Both times. They also appreciate your stalling -in a stack-circle, waiting for that last half-hour to expire so they'd -draw overtime flight pay. But you've got to remember, Wilson, that -we are running the Space Service for the public weal, not for the -benefit of the spacemen. A parent does not bring up a child knowing -only the pleasant things of life. A balanced program of work and play -is essential. I know that the Centaurian run is no picnic, but it is a -fine training for spacemen. Now, that'll be all. I'm not criticizing -you Wilson. I recall doing similar things myself years ago. It does -draw a crew closer to their commander when he gives them consideration. -But making them work makes them efficient, and they will also love a -commander who mixes well his periods of pleasure with hours of hard -work. Agree?" - -"Yes. Of course." - -"Fine," said Admiral Stone. "So now that you know, we'll watch you for -a bit. If you come through, you'll get your increase in rank--and your -girl." He smiled. "You're a good commodore, Wilson. But with a little -work and application you could be brilliant. We need brilliant men. -Remember that. Good-by and good luck, Commodore Wilson...." - - * * * * * - -His name translated from his native tongue, was Viggon Sarri. In -medieval times he might have been called "Sarri the Conqueror" for his -exploits, his conquests. But of course then it was the king, emperor, -or caesar who led his own troops. - -In these days the ruler sends out men of military might to fight -his battles, and Viggon Sarri was not a ruler. His position was the -equivalent of space admiral in the Interstellar Service, and though -devoted to his own service, he was only a paid hand. - -His home was far across the galaxy from Sol and the sprinkling of -stellar systems colonized by human beings. Viggon Sarri had never met a -human, he did not know that this section of the universe had any trace -of sentient life. He was just out looking for new worlds to exploit, -perhaps to conquer. A new district to colonize, perhaps, or a world of -beings advanced at least to the point where the produce and manufacture -of his homeland could be sold for metal. - -Naturally, Viggon Sarri explored space at the head of several hundred -ultra-fast and ultra-hard-boiled fighting spacecraft--fourteen big -battle wagons, two fighter carriers each providing a hundred one-man -space attack craft, and one hunter, a detecting craft. It was loaded to -the astrodome with every device for locating evidences of anything from -advanced races to enemy spacecraft. - -Sarri rode in his flagship, one position ahead of the hunter. And so, -when the detecting equipment in the hunter registered that some race in -this sector of the galaxy was advanced enough to be using the power of -the atomic nucleus, Viggon Sarri gave orders for his fleet to spread -out in a big, flat dishlike formation, flatwise toward this section of -the sky. - -It came to as near a halt as anything can approach in deep space, and -Viggon Sarri called a conference. - -He sat at the head of the table, his two second officers at his left -and right. They were equal in rank, Regin Naylo and Faren Twill. This -irked them both, and for a long time they had been striving to rise -above one another. But only Viggon Sarri knew which was listed in -the sealed orders, to be opened only in the case of the death of the -supreme commander. - -At the far end of the table sat Linus Brein, commander-mathematician of -the hunter spacecraft. - -Viggon said, "Linus, what do we know about these people?" - -Brein thought, then said, "Very little, actually. They use atomic -power. They have discovered interstellar flight. They seem to have some -interstellar commerce. They use the infrawave bands for communication -across space. I would say, off-hand, that they may have colonized -no more than a dozen planets, and are exploring perhaps a dozen -more. I would also guess that their exploration is done by sheer -go-out-and-look techniques." - -"Why do you suggest that?" asked Viggon. - -"Analogy. Their use of the infrawave is not highly developed. I doubt -that they have planet-finding equipment. I have not noticed any attempt -to use the infrawave as a detecting and locating means. Only for -communication is the infrawave employed by them." - -"I see. Any more?" - -"Not at present," said Linus Brein. "We will collect more as our men -pick up information and our analyzers compile data." - -"Keep me posted," ordered Viggon Sarri. - -He sat there in silence, a tall man with a thin face that looked -wolfish. His ears were flat and distorted, to the human point of view. -His eyes were glittery bright, having that shiny cornea characteristic -of the nocturnal animal of Terra. He had six stubby strong fingers on -each hand and a long double-jointed thumb. Each hand had two palms, -fore and back so that the fingers could curl either inward or outward. -His elbows were double, one bent in or locked straight, the other bent -out or locked straight, as he moved. - - * * * * * - -Viggon stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. His eyes, roaming -independently gave his features a bizarre look which his own race -thought quite natural. - -Finally he said, "Has anybody any suggestions?" - -Regin Naylo said, "I say we attack as soon as we know more about them." - -He felt confident. He believed that his admiral enjoyed swift and -decisive action, and by suggesting it he hoped to show that his -thoughts ran in the same channels as those of his commander. - -Faren Twill said, "It might be better to make allies of them, rather -than enemies." - -Twill held the notion that Viggon Sarri's main motivation was to build -and expand in the easiest, and most profitable manner. And he felt that -careful negotiations might pay off better than invasion and strong -conquest. - -But in truth Viggon Sarri himself did not know which course to take. -He was not above the use of force, if force were needed. Nor was he -against the idea of peaceful negotiation, even the formation of an -alliance. Which course he would take depended entirely upon what sort -of culture this was, how the people reacted, and what they favored. -For such knowledge he would rely on data collected by Linus Brein and -analyzed by the mathematician's vast bank of computers. - -Regin Naylo grunted in a superior tone. "They sound like an inferior -race. Inept and primitive. Let's not waste time." - -Faren Twill shook his head. "You want to barge in there with the -projectors flaming and conquer them by force. That would be easy, but -would it leave enough to make the conquest economically sound?" - -"Can you sell anything to mice?" - -Faren Twill grinned. "Cheese," he suggested. "Besides, an angry gang of -rats can do in an elephant, you know." - -"Chicken," sneered Regin Naylo. - -Of course none of them had ever seen a mouse, a rat, an elephant, -or a chicken. But on their homeland, a planet called "Brade," there -were myriad life forms, just as on any inhabitable planet. The -forms of animal life mentioned were similar enough to permit a free -transliteration. "Chicken" also existed in its completely alien form. - -But until the native tongue of Brade becomes common to Earthmen, -this loose transliteration of their speech characteristics suffices -to convey their meaning. Since their grammar bears no relation to -any Solarian tongue, it must be converted rather than translated, or -even transliterated. So if they sound like people of Earth instead of -extra-solar aliens, that is the only way to convey their meaning. - -"Twill is right," said Viggon Sarri. "We must be wary. This may be a -communal culture, like that of the insect, ant, in which the individual -is expendable so long as the nucleus is undamaged. In such a case -suicide fighters would swarm over us, and against such we could not -stand. If, on the other hand, this is a completely individualistic, or -anarchic culture, we must call Brade for help. We would need a horde of -space fighters to control the entire group." He looked at Linus Brein. -"You will, of course, have their language analyzed?" - -"We are working on it now. It is not difficult to connect the sound -forms with the meaning, under known conditions and situations. But -it is extremely difficult to make such analysis when we have not the -foggiest notion of what situation is being described by the sounds. I--" - - * * * * * - -A winking light on the wall called his attention. Linus Brein touched a -stud on an armlet. The tiny communicator said, in a thin, tinny voice: - -"Commander Brein? Analyst Hogar speaking. The space-strain detectors -have just picked up a violent response. The computer-analyzer bands -report the following probability to at least three nines: That a space -craft has foundered due to the failure of the warp-generator. Have you -any orders as to our next moves?" - -"Yes, Hogar. Record everything. Analyze everything!" He let the stud -snap back into place, then said to Viggon Sarri: - -"An ill wind blows, Admiral Sarri. Their misfortune may be our gain." - -"It might indeed." Viggon nodded. - -"I suggest that we send a fleeter out to seek survivors," said Regin -Naylo. - -"No," said Faren Twill. "We will learn more by listening to their -communications and watching how they face this problem." - -"What's better than a being able to interpret his own sounds?" snapped -Naylo. - -"Taking a little longer by doing it ourselves, and not giving them any -warning that there stands another intelligent race not far offside. Why -forearm them?" - -"Right," interposed Viggon Sarri. "We watch from a distance." - -Linus Brein stood up. "I'd best be going back," he said. "This language -analysis may get deeply involved. I'd feel better if I could supervise -it myself. May I leave, Admiral Sarri?" - -"We'll all leave. This conference is over until more detailed -information is at hand. My orders are: Take no action, but observe -closely and critically. Dismissed, gentlemen. We'll all drink to -success!" - -Viggon Sarri pressed the stud on his armlet and ordered a tray of -refreshments. Linus Brein did not stay for his share. - - - - - II - - -Spaceflight Seventy-nine took off, lifted on schedule by Pilot Jock -Norton. Norton was a big man, rather on the lazy side, but a good -pilot. If he had had any ambition at all, he would have owned his -spacecraft, maybe a string of several, instead of being a paid space -jockey. - -But Jock Norton lacked the drive, or perhaps had never seen anything he -actually wanted. He was a love-em-and-leave-em kind of guy who spent -everything he earned on good times and luxuries. He spent no time -seeking out the better pay loads as other pilots did, and so did not -collect any of the fancy commissions for being a good businessman. He -had gravitated to a standard contract type of job and with this he was -satisfied. - -His cargoes were invariably bid-basis job lots, instead of valuable -merchandise with a delivery factor. He ran mail loads mostly--mail -that could not, for legal reasons, be micro-microfilmed, transmitted -by facsi-wave, or recomposed by infrawave at the receiving end. Legal -contracts, documents, and the like, the one-and-only original of which -must bear the _bona fide_ signature of both parties. - -Norton took the spacecraft up, fired the warp-generator, and headed for -Castor Three at about forty parsecs per hour. Then, with the control -room on the full automatic, he went down to the salon, because it had -been a couple of months of Sundays since he had been pilot-host to -anyone as young and attractive as Miss Alice Hemingway. Most of his -passengers had been businessmen. The few women had been wives of such -businessmen, a bit on the dowager side, and therefore more boring than -interesting. - -But Miss Alice Hemingway was interesting. Not that Jock Norton favored -her ash-blond and dark-eyed attractiveness more than he would have -admired a redhead or an olive-skinned brunette. He favored all women -under thirty who were properly rounded here and there--especially -there--and who had clear-skinned faces with regular features. - -That Alice Hemingway, secretary, was traveling with her boss made her -even more interesting. Norton had cased Mr. Charles Andrews carefully -and put him down as a Napoleon type, peppery and active, and probably -well-to-do, but not personally attractive to the opposite sex. It was -money, decided Norton, that bought a reasonable facsimile of affection -to Mr. Charles Andrews. - -It would be masculine virility, thought Jock Norton, that would offset -the money of Charles Andrews and really bring a proper emotional -response from the girl. - -"Good morning," he greeted them from the last step of the ladder that -led down from the control room. - -"How do you do, Pilot Norton," responded Andrews. - -"My goodness!" exclaimed Alice. "Isn't that dangerous?" - -"Isn't what dangerous?" asked Norton, with a wide, lazy smile. - -"Your leaving the ship to run itself." - -"Not at all." Norton showed his superior knowledge. "Our auto-pilot -is the best that money can buy and maintain. And after all, Miss -Hemingway, there is little a pilot can do while we are in transit. -The auto-pilot does the job from after take-off to before landing. In -between, the human pilot relaxes and enjoys his space travel. So--may -I build you a cocktail? Or maybe you'd prefer a highball." - -"At this hour in the morning?" - -Norton laughed and inspected his watch. "I admit that it is ten o'clock -by Chicago time. But it is past midnight on Polaris Two at Minervatown. -It's three A.M. in Leyport, Procyon Five. It's even three -o'clock in London, Terra." - -"Besides," said Charles Andrews curtly, "we're hard at work." - -"Work?" exploded Norton loftily. "You're hard at work in deep space?" - -"Certainly. Deep space or hard planet, work must go on. I did not get -where I am by goofing off, Pilot Norton." - -Jock Norton grinned. "All work and no play, you know." - -"All play and no work is worse." - -"It's more fun," said Jock, with a feeling that he was coming off -second-best in this fool argument. "Look," he said, "everybody relaxes -in deep space. It's customary. It's holiday." - -"It's damn foolish." Andrews turned to Alice. "Miss Hemingway, what do -you think?" - -"I'm half-inclined to agree with you, Mr. Andrews. But you must know -I'm thrilled to be a-space. I've never been off Earth before." - -"Oh. Then I capitulate. Pilot Norton, will you give Miss Hemingway a -space tourist's run of the ship, please?" - -"Be happy to." Norton nodded. - - * * * * * - -He looked around the salon, from face to face. There were four others -there, all of them watching with a blank sort of interest. Norton took -a deep breath of inner cheer for his luck. All the rest looked as -though nothing could be as boring as a tourist's run of a spacecraft. -He made the gesture of asking, but all shook their heads. - -Norton opened the small bar and set everyone up to cocktails. Then he -said to Alice, "Now, let's start at the bottom and work our way up." - -"Any way you say," she told him. - -Andrews got to his feet. "I think I'll tag along." - -Norton swore below his breath. - -Alice walked between them as Norton explained the workings of the -spacecraft. She found Norton a good talker, and his lazy manner of -speech somehow managed to convey a lot of information that a more -intense man would have flubbed, because of a greater preoccupation with -facts. - -Even Mr. Andrews seemed interested, although he had been a-space many -times before, as a matter of business. - -Norton explained the workings of the power pile in a much -oversimplified way, showed them the various rooms of machinery for -maintaining air and water and electrical circuits throughout the ship. -As he had suggested, they started at the bottom, looking out through -the below-hatch at the hull of the ship, where the misty blue corona -flared down and back from the eight tubular drivers that thrust their -blunt cylindrical noses down in a large circle, surrounding the after -viewport. - -Then Norton worked them aloft slowly, up through the room filled with -water for the reaction mass, and hurled out from the throat of the -driver tubes as a molecular-atomic gas so highly energized that it was -not water, but nascent hydrogen and oxygen, completely ionized. The -coronal flare below, he explained, was the recombination of the nuclei -with their electrons in shells, and the partial recompositions of the -gases into water. - -He showed them the warp-generator that created the extra space field -around the ship, nullifying every physical attribute of matter. Neither -mass nor inertia remained, so that the thrust of the flare had no -resistance against which to exert its force, resulting in a drive that -violated the Einstein equations. Forward velocity reached terminal when -the interstellar matter provided a tenuous medium against which the -velocity of the ship found resistance. - -He showed them the magnetic-mass detector that protected them against -meteors, and explained that while the thing was primitive, it was the -best that Mankind had. The infrawave was hopeless because it had an -instantaneous velocity of propagation and was also nondirectional, and -therefore neither direction-finding nor ranging could be accomplished -with the infrawave. - -But the magnetic-mass detector was not as hopeless as it looked. - -He said casually, "There were a lot of tall stories back in the Early -Twentieth Century about spacecraft filled with course-computing gear -that measured the course of meteorites, then directed the spacecraft. -A more practical study of any such device shows that any extraneous -object that does not change its aspect angle is necessarily on a -collision course. Ergo, any target that does not move causes the alarm -to ring, and the auto-pilot to swerve aside." He grinned and added in a -low voice, "We're as safe as if we were all in bed." - -As his arm touched Alice's she realized that Jock Norton had been -entertaining the idea of bed ever since this tourist's run had started. -She smiled because it amused her. Jock Norton had made a snap judgment, -probably because he had seen a lot of such shenanigans as man and woman -playing employer and secretary before. She almost laughed at Norton, -realizing that he was displaying all of his knowledge and his virility -in the hope of convincing her that he was probably more fun in bed than -the elderly Napoleon type with whom she was traveling. - -She stole a look at Andrews, comparing the two men. She wondered -whether Andrews had cottoned onto Norton's play and if he had, whether -her boss found it funny or irritating. - - * * * * * - -As they walked along a curved corridor, she saw with some surprise that -twice Mr. Andrews had lagged back a bit, then had come forward behind -them to walk by her side instead of on the far side of Jock Norton. -And both times Norton had quietly lagged back to circle her and step -forward between them, explaining quietly that Mr. Andrews could hear -his explanation better if he, Norton, walked between. - -Alice was still wondering whether Charles Andrews actually held any -off-trail notions about his traveling secretary when all hell broke -loose. - -First came the wild clangor of an alarm, and the automatic cry of a -recorded order: - -"Your undivided attention, please! This is urgent! You have eleven -minutes from the end of this announcement to follow these directions. -There has been a partial failure of the warp-generator. If this -failure becomes complete, and the space field collapses, the effect -will be that of precipitating intrinsic mass into the real Universe -while traveling at some high multiple of the velocity of light. The -spacecraft then will drop instantly below the speed of light but -in doing so will radiate all the energy-mass equivalent to those -multi-light speeds, according to the Einstein equation of mass and -energy. It is therefore expedient that you repair to the lifeship locks -and prepare to debark. The partial failure may or may not continue. If -not, there will be no more danger. But in case of continued breakdown--" - -The recorded announcement stopped abruptly as a louder alarm bell rang -briefly. Then another voice from the squawk-box shouted: - -"The warp-generator is failing! You have--" - -A third voice came in automatically saying, "Eleven minutes," after -which the second voice continued neatly, "to make your way to a -lifeship and debark. Please do not panic. You have plenty of time." - -"It's this way," Norton said anxiously. - -"We'll find it," said Andrews. "I know this spacecraft type. Hadn't you -better take care of your other passengers?" - -Norton wanted to swear. It would have been so neat if Andrews hadn't -insisted upon coming along on this tourist's run of the spacecraft. As -it was, Norton couldn't quite bring himself to suggest that Andrews -take care of the other customers while Norton himself took care of the -girl. On the other hand, Norton had no intention of rushing off to take -care of the others when they were probably being taken care of right -now by the engineer-technician. He said that, and repeated it to give -it force. - -"This way," he said. - -The announcer bawled, "You now have ten minutes!" - -"Couldn't I get my bag?" pleaded Alice. - -"Anything of real value in it?" asked Norton. - -"Not really." - -"Then we'd best leave it." Norton breathed a sigh of relief. Now she -wouldn't find it more expedient to travel with the bunch upstairs. - -He led them up a flight of curved stairs and around another curved -corridor as the announcement howled: - -"Nine minutes!" - -The squawk-box said, in a more natural voice, "Jock? Look, I've got -this section under control. How're you doing?" - -"I'm doing fine, Limey. We're almost at the below-station lock." - -"Be seein' you. Luck." - -The announcement yelled: - -"Eight minutes! You all have plenty of time. Remember, safety is more -important that blind speed! Listen!" - -The tremolo of an organ filled the spacecraft--vibrant, thrilling, -brilliant music rising over the _throb, throb, throb_ of heavy bass, -beating time just fast enough to keep feet moving briskly, but nowhere -fast enough to cause panic or fumbled steps. - -"Seven minutes!" came the cry. - - * * * * * - -Norton's hands closed on the space lock and he twisted the emergency -handles. The inner door swung open ponderously and they walked past the -portal. The lock swung behind them and the dogs went home. - -"Six minutes!" came a less resonant call from a smaller loud-speaker in -the lock. - -Jock Norton handed Alice through the small space lock of the lifeship, -boosted Andrews in after her, then climbed in himself. - -"Five minutes!" was almost cut off as the lifeship space lock swung -shut. - -"Four minutes!" came as the big outer space lock was cracked. - -Norton's hands on the lifeship controls moved and the little spacer -leaped out of the doorway. - -On the infrawave they heard the call of "Three minutes!" then "Two!" -and finally the announcement, "You are now all debarked and are in -places of safety. The distress call has been sent constantly from -the moment of danger. Sit tight and make no foolish moves until help -comes. Do not look to the rear, as the explosion of a collapsed field -generator is brilliant enough to sear the eyes--" - -The voice stopped abruptly as there came a wave of sheer heat. The -ports on the side of the lifeship flared blue-white, and the spacecraft -bucked as though it were being driven into a heavy gas cloud. - -"What was that?" blurted Andrews, picking himself up off the heaving -deck. - -Norton shrugged. "That was Spaceflight Seventy-nine going to hell in a -wicker basket," he said. - -"But why? We weren't hit by anything." - -"You can bet not," Norton said cheerfully. "Don't you know about -spaceflight factors? The Einstein equation?" - -Andrews eyed the pilot coldly. For several hours the younger man had -been explaining all sorts of things in a condescending manner, showing -off his knowledge in a field that he knew far better than any one else -present. This was galling to the financier, who was used to paying -mathematicians and physicists small change. - -"I don't have time to clutter up my mind with equations," he told -Norton coldly. "I usually pay people to have them explain these things -to me. So go right ahead." - -Norton's thick hide sloughed off the insult because he was still the -bright one. - -He said, "The original Einstein equation of mass and energy shows that -as the speed of light is reached, the mass reaches infinite mass. This -is an obvious impossibility, since even the total mass of the Universe -is not an infinite mass. So when a body traveling at faster-than-light -is hurled into the real Universe by the collapse of the warp-generator, -for the barest instant it is actually traveling beyond light. This -causes it to assume some unknown factor of mass that no physicist has -been able to theorize yet, but must be the impossible infinity-plus. -At any rate, the fabric of space is twisted, as if by a gravitational -field so powerful that the field wraps up around itself and forces the -mass into a Universe of its own." - -"You're talking gibberish." - -"Sure I am. But you find me someone who can explain this effect without -talking like an imbecile and I'll buy you a good cigar." - -"All right--go on. What is supposed to happen?" - -Norton shrugged. "If a volume of space is removed from the structure -of space--this is more gibberish, Andrews, believe me--then there must -be an instantaneous flow of space back to fill the gap. Now, for God's -sake don't ask me why empty space has got to flow into a place where -some empty space has been removed. I've always been taught that nothing -from nothing leaves nothing. Maybe nothing from nothing leaves less -nothing than before, but that sounds as silly as the rest of the whole -fool argument. At any rate, every time a warp-generator collapses, the -same twist occurs in the structure of space. There have been billions -of bucks' worth of equipment shot into nothingness by the White Sands -Space Academy in the last hundred years, just to see if someone can -come up with a logical answer." - - * * * * * - -Andrews said coldly, "All right. So now what do we do?" - -"We sit it out," Norton said cheerfully. - -"Doing what?" - -"Decelerating to a velocity below light. We still have our ship's -intrinsic to get rid of, you know." - -"Why don't we keep on?" - -"Because this is a lifeship and not a spacecraft. We have only enough -space power to pull ourselves down safely, with some reserve, and then -we use the reserve to emit our distress call. Cheer up. We got off -safely. This will be a breeze." - -"It will? And why are you so happy about it?" - -Jock Norton smiled, then said the one thing that removed all and -any chance of Alice Hemingway ever looking upon him as a desirable -character, virile or not. - -"Spaceman's insurance," he said. "For spacewreck, one thousand cold -clams. For debarking with every passenger within a reasonable distance -of my position at the time of distress, an award of one thousand more -frogskins each. This is not so much an insurance award as it is a -reward incentive for a spaceman to do the right and proper thing. Then, -for every lonely hour adrift in deep space, from the time of distress -until we are collected safely, one hundred fish. This should add up -to a neat sum by the time we are picked up. Tommy Walton and Joe Lake -drifted for eight hours and collected. Sure, we're sitting pretty and -we'll be rescued in due time. So let's settle down and take it easy." - -Andrews said, "I suppose you've spent half of your time a-space hoping -for some disaster so you could collect a neat pile." - -"Not quite that bad. This is likely to be sure rough before we're -collected. But it does pay off. So let's relax, huh?" - -Alice was breathing a silent prayer to Commodore Wilson that he make it -a quick run. She was sick and tired of spacing already.... - -Admiral Stone said, "These are your orders, Wilson. You are to take -your squadron out to Cube X-Z-Fifty-nineteen, District Forty-seven. -You'll have to comb it inch by inch." - -"I'll comb it millimeter by millimeter," asserted Wilson. "Miss -Hemingway was on that spacer." - -"Don't do anything foolish," warned the space admiral. "Just remember -that you're a flight commodore and not a full squadron commander yet. -You have your orders." - -"I have. And I'll bring them back. Both lifeship loads." - -"Then get going. Remember that every hour decreases their chances of a -safe rescue. Luck, Wilson. Spaceman's luck!" - -"Correct, Admiral Stone." - -Less than a quarter-hour later, Ted Wilson's flight of twenty-five -swift light spacecraft went barreling up out of Chicago Spaceport and -into that region of the sky called Gemini.... - -Viggon Sarri sat in the main control cabin of the hunter spacecraft, -quietly waiting for Linus Brein to finish some involved equations in -logic symbols. When the long string of symbols had come to what looked -like a satisfactory conclusion, Brein looked up. - -"Any success?" - -"Oh, yes indeed." Brein nodded. "Of course our interpretations of their -speech is only symbolic at this point. But this much we know. This -series of sounds--" he snapped a switch on the side of his desk and -a wall speaker delivered a series of what sounded to them like sheer -gibberish--"connotates as follows: Voice A has called for contact -with any receiving station. Voice B has responded, informing A that -he is ready to receive. Voice A then delivers a running account of -the disaster, delivering his computed position, vector of travel, and -space coordinates. I've untangled some of their tongue." Brein replayed -the recording and stopped it after the first passage. He parroted the -gibberish, "'Spaceflight Seventy-nine calling Distress.' That, Viggon, -is interpreted in our tongue as 'Identification Number So-and-so -calling to announce disaster.'" - - * * * * * - -He let the recording run a bit then said, again parroting the -gibberish, "'Chicago Spaceport, Interstellar Service to Spaceflight -Seventy-nine. We read you five by five, go ahead. What is your -distress?' We interpret the reply as, 'Base of Operations has -received your distress call. Please elucidate.' What follows defies -identification, Admiral Sarri. Until we can meet one of these people -and learn more of their physiognomy, we cannot hope to unravel their -numerical system. Damn it, we don't even know how many fingers they -have." - -"Or," suggested Sarri drily, "whether they might have stopped counting -on their hands." - -"Indeed." Linus Brein nodded thoughtfully. "However, not long after the -reception of this distress signal, the entire infrawave band seemed to -fill up with all sorts of signals, all of them repeating the sounds -that we assume are the space coordinates of this foundered spacecraft." - -"Indicating that this is not a completely anarchistic or communal, -insect-type culture. The individual is important." - -"I would say so." - -Regin Naylo smiled. It would have been an odd-looking facial grimace to -an Earthman, for it turned the corners of his pencil-thin lips down and -furrowed the skin of his head between the gleaming eyes and the low, -ragged hairline. - -Viggon Sarri said, "What do you find so amusing?" - -Regin replied, "If they are individually important, then the culture -finds the individual important, as opposed to the insect-type which -wouldn't mind losing a few billions so long as the inner hive is -intact, or the anarchistic culture where the loss of a unit is not -even noticed, because every one of them is so preoccupied with his own -affairs that he can take no time to consider the next man." - -"Right. So what?" - -"I say let's hit 'em while they're all occupied in tracking down the -survivors of this wreck." - -Faren Twill grunted sourly, "Ever try to interfere with a dog and her -pups? You get bitten whether you mean good or ill. If you care for my -opinion you'll ... Or do you give a damn?" - -"Go ahead." - -"I say we just slide in there quietly and collect the lifeships. Then, -later, we can go in boldly and establish our superior position." - -Regin Naylo shook his head superciliously. "I say we should hit 'em -with all we've got and establish our physical superiority. Look, Faren, -either way this gang of subhumans is going to end up in some form -of servitude to us. Let's make it the quick and dirty way and save -manpower. Besides, what can they possibly have that we want?" - -Twill shrugged. "Any subject race is a good market." - -Naylo laughed. "I'd rather shove it down their throats by taxation. -Then we'd collect without having to give them a string of uranium beads -for exchange." - -Faren Twill asked Viggon Sarri for his opinion. - -Viggon said, without changing expression, "There are races that will -not abide the idea of collaboration, and there are races that either -revolt or die under any superior government. It has been my lifework -to expand the Bradian culture, one way and another, across the galaxy. -When we finish with this problem here, another world--in this case -another series of colonized worlds--will enter one of the forms of -economic relationships with Brade. Whether we blast in and smash them, -or ooze in and coerce them quietly; take them over, or hail them as an -ally." - -"Ally?" roared Regin Naylo scornfully. "This bunch of primitives who -haven't even got an infrawave detector?" - -"Ally?" snarled Faren Twill disgustedly. "This people who cannot -protect their spacecraft from warp failure?" - -Viggon Sarri held up his doubly-prehensile hand. "Either of you may -be right," he said. "But remember that we do have time. So we'll -wait until we know more about their basic character before we take -any course. Go consult Linus Brein. Watch his computations and his -evaluations. Come back when you have more complete data for your own -evaluation." - -Naylo and Twill left together. - -Viggon Sarri called Brein on the ultra-infrawave. - -"Linus? My headstrong youths are coming over to look at your data. Like -any other kids they know everything, but dammit, like a lot of kids one -of them may be right. Maybe I'm overcautious. So give them all the data -you have, and let them evaluate it. I'll happily pin a medal on one of -them if he's right and I'm wrong. Okay?" - -Linus Brein agreed. - - - - - III - - -Under the temporary command of Commodore Theodore Wilson the space -squadron sped out into the uncharted wastes of the sky on the true line -toward Castor. Slowly, as the squadron flew, its component spacecraft -diverged in a narrow cone so that the volume of space to be covered -would fall within the scope of the detection equipment aboard each -ship. Computers flicked complex functions in variables of the laws of -probability, and came up with a long series of "and-or-if" results. - -Toby Manning, Master Computer for the squadron, sympathized when Wilson -showed the latest sheaf. - -Wilson grunted, "This is no damn good at all. It sort of says that the -lifeships will be wherever we find them." - -Manning nodded. "Like the problem of catching a lion on the Sahara -Desert. You get a lion cage with an open door, electronically triggered -to close at the press of a distant button. Then the laws of probability -state that at any instant there exists a mathematical probability the -lion is in the region of the cage. At this instant you shut the door. -The lion lies within the cage, trapped." - -"Stop goofing off. This is no picnic. Have you any idea of how many -square light years we have to comb?" - -"Cubic light years, Commodore Wilson." - -"Cubic. So I'm sloppy in my speech, too? Look, Manning, all we really -want from you is the overall conic volume in which the lifeships must -lie. You know the course of Flight Seventy-nine. You know the standard -take-off velocity of a lifeship. The forward motion plus the sidewise, -escape velocity, produces a vector angle which falls in the volume of -a cone because we don't know which escape angle they may have used. We -can pinpoint the place of escape fairly close." - -"Yeah, within a light year. Maybe two." - -"And we know that the lifeship will reduce its velocity below light as -soon as possible." - -"Naturally." - -"So somewhere on that vector cone, or within it, is a lifeship--two -lifeships--traveling on some unknown course at some velocity -considerably lower than the speed of light." - -"We've located 'em before. We'll locate 'em again." - -Wilson shook his head worriedly. "That's a lot of vacant space out -there. Even admitting that we have the place pinpointed, the pinpoint -is a couple of light years in diameter, and will grow larger as time -and the lifeship course continues. Or," he added crisply, "shall we -take a certain volume of space and assert that a definite mathematical -probability exists that the survivors lie within that volume?" - -"Sorry, Commodore. I didn't mean to be scornful." - -"Well, then, you'd better set up your space grid in the coordinate tank -and we'll start combing it cube by cube." - -"Correct," said Toby Manning. - -The "tank" was not really a tank. It was a stereo projection against a -flat glass wall at one end of the big Information Center Room below the -bridge section of the flagship. Wilson went there some time later to -watch the bustle as the tank was set up to cover the segment of space -they intended to comb. - -Even looking at the thing required some training. The plotters and -watchers wore polaroid glasses to provide the stereo effect. Through -the special glasses, the tank looked like a small scale model of this -section of the sky. Castor and Pollux and other nearby stars were no -longer pinpoints on a flat black surface, but tiny points of light that -seemed to hang in space, some in front of and some behind the position -of the screen itself. - -Behind the glass screen, a technician was carefully laying a curve down -on a drawing table with a pantagraph instrument. As he moved the pencil -point along the curve, a thin green line appeared in stereo, starting -close by and abruptly, and leading towards the dot labeled Castor. - -The loud-speaker said, "This green line is the computed course of -Spaceflight Seventy-nine." - - * * * * * - -A red knot was placed on the line. - -"This is the approximate point of explosion." - -Wilson asked, "Is that nominal or is that placed on the minus side?" - -"The spot is placed to give the maximum factor of safety." - -"Good." - -"Now, after considering the probable velocity of escape from -Seventy-nine, which would be a lifeship leaving the mother vessel at -a ninety-degree relative course at full lifeship speed, we find a -vector combination of velocities and courses that diverge from the main -course." - -From the red knot another line went out at a small angle to the -original course, thin and red. - -"But because we have no way of knowing what the axial attitude of -Seventy-nine was at the moment of escape, the volume of probability now -becomes a cone." - -The angled red line revolved about a green course line describing -a thin cone, its base pointed toward the star, Castor. As the line -revolved about the axis of the cone, it left a faint residue behind it, -which became a thin, transparent cone. - -Manning said, "Our field of operations lies within this cone." - -Someone running the projector went to work. The scene expanded until -the thin red cone filled the screen and seemed to project deep into -the room, its apex almost at the eyes of the watchers. Then a polar -pattern appeared across the cone near the apex, a circular grid marked -off in thin white lines, each line numbered, each area or segment, -marked with a letter. - -Down the room where the cone was larger, another grid appeared -similarly marked. - -Manning went on, "We cannot tell, of course, at what point in the -collapse the survivors made their escape. We know that the automatic -circuits begin deceleration as soon as the warp-generator shows signs -of failure, the hope being that the spacecraft will fall to a safe -velocity before the field collapses completely. Therefore escape could -be made at any velocity between forty parsecs per hour, if they escaped -before the deceleration began, or at normal under-light velocity, -which might take place if the spacecraft had succeeded in dropping to -safety before the field collapsed. However, in that case, there would -have been no explosion and our space wreck victims would have remained -in the spacecraft, or returned to it as soon as they saw it was safe. -Therefore, integrating the probabilities outlined here, the survivors -must lie between the planes of maxima and minima, representing escape -at maximum forward velocity and minimum forward velocity. Here, -gentlemen, is your search grid." - -The rest of the stereo-field went out, leaving the white lines of the -grids. Lateral lines now appeared to connect intersections of the fore -grid with the corresponding intersection of the aft grid. - -"We are here." - -Tiny discs of purple dotted space before the small end grid. The discs -were flat-on to the grid and represented the maximum distance for space -detection of matter. - -Wilson felt something touch him on the arm. He turned. A tech-operator -standing there had a bewildered look on his face. - -"Yes?" said Wilson. - -"I'm puzzled, Commodore. Suppose we don't find them in a long time. -Won't that far grid have to be pushed back?" - -"No," Wilson explained wearily. "The function of a lifeship is to get -its occupants down below the velocity of light and then coast. Since -that grid represents a total distance of about ten light years, they'd -have to be floating for ten years at the velocity of light to make it. -Any normal speed, over a period of weeks, would hardly appear long -enough to cover the thickness of one of the grid lines." - -"Ten light years!" - -Wilson nodded and repeated. "This is no picnic." He turned from the -tech-operator to the planning table. "Unless someone has a better -suggestion, we'll set up a hexagonal flight pattern with a safe -detector overlap and start by cutting a hole down through this grid -volume along the prime axis. Anybody got any other suggestions?" - -Space Captain Frank Edwards shook his head. "Not unless someone has -improved on the _Manual of Flight Procedures_," he said. - -"Okay then. Here we go." - - * * * * * - -Commodore Wilson leaned back and watched the grid as Edwards got on -the ship-to-ship and gave the operational orders. The little discs -rearranged themselves slowly into a hexagonal lattice with their edges -overlapping, then the flight began to move forward into the grid, -running down the line of axis. - -Somewhere inside of the cage made by the white lines a lifeship was -drifting, a sub-sub-microscopic mote alone in a volume of space so -large that light would take ten years to traverse the volume from top -to bottom. - -Wilson shook his head and took off his polaroids to brush his eyes. -The stereo-field collapsed flat against the glass screen and became a -meaningless jumble of lines. Wilson put his glasses back on hastily. - -Captain Edwards said softly, "Take it easy, Ted. We'll find her." - -Wilson nodded. "I know. But I can't help thinking how rough it must -be." - -"Why?" - -"To take her first space flight and get involved in a blowup." - -"It will be an experience she'll never forget, but it shouldn't be too -hard on her. It isn't as though she were completely alone, you know." - -"No, I suppose not. She probably got out with anywhere from two to -eight others. A lot of those were--well, not real spacemen, but at -least they were regular space trippers. I--" - -A detector alarm rang and everybody jumped to the alert. Edwards -barked an order and one of the flight-techs darted off toward the -launching deck. There was no point in stopping the whole flight, for -any detection of matter would be investigated by one-man scooters. If -a lifeship should be found, an infrawave call would bring the search -flight hurrying back. - -This was not it. The flight-tech reported a small clutter of pebbles -and frozen gas. Probably a comet on its long, cold, dead swing near -aphelion. - -And the search went on.... - -Charles Andrews snorted angrily and growled, "It's damned inefficient, -that's all I have to say." - -Pilot Jock Norton shrugged. "We're alive." - -"But why can't we pack on some power and get going somewhere?" - -"Because this is a lifeship and not an interstellar spacecraft. I told -you that before. D'ye expect a lifeship to be as big as the carrier?" - -"Don't be an imbecile." - -Norton towered over Andrews. "Don't be too bright, Andrews. Ships don't -founder once in a green-striped moon. The function of a lifeship is -to protect the customers until help can arrive. Our storage bank held -enough quick-power to counteract the speed of the lifeship, with a -safety factor. We've a small accumulator cell for temporary storage. It -ain't pheasant under glass and brandy, but we'll neither starve nor die -of asphyxiation. We're alive and healthy. So just wait it out. I told -you that, too." - -"I don't like it." - -"Do I sound as though I did?" - -"You seem to," Alice said reproachfully. - -Norton gave her a bland smile. "I didn't intend to imply that I was -in love with this clambake. Sure, it's a rough situation, but there's -little point in looking at the black side." - -"How long will this take?" she asked. - -"Maybe a couple of days," he said easily. "Maybe as long as a week. -Maybe even more. But we'll be all right." - -"At a hundred dollars per hour," sneered Andrews. - -"It ain't hay." - -Andrews pulled a long pale cigar out and lit it with a flourish. -"Norton, tell you what _I_ think of a hundred dollars per hour. I'll -take that week you mentioned as an outside limit and if you can do -something to get us home before that date, I'll pay you one thousand -dollars for every hour under that week." - -"Nuts!" - - * * * * * - -Andrews said firmly, "Miss Hemingway, witness this, please. Do -something brilliant right this moment, Norton, and you'll collect seven -times twenty-four times one thousand dollars. Now that's what I call -not-hay." - -Norton growled angrily, "If there was anything I could do, I'd take you -up on that." - -"There probably is, if you'd only try to think." - -"I'm the space pilot," Norton pointed out. "And I'm telling you there -is nothing we can do about it." - -"All right. Forget it. Let's have something to eat." - -"We don't eat for an hour, Andrews." - -Charles Andrews puffed on his cigar. "Why not?" he asked softly. - -"Because we've got to conserve. It's in the book of rules." - -"Rules are made to be broken." - -"Not space rules. And I'm still skipper, you know." - -"No matter how--" Andrews was going to say "incompetent" but he stopped -short as Norton got lazily up out of his chair and came forward. -Andrews realized he could push Norton just so far, then the pilot would -lose his laziness and begin getting violent. Andrews could not stand up -to violence. He was not big enough. He was not young enough. - -Alice said calmly, "Stop it, both of you! You'll just make trouble for -all of us." - -Norton sat down again. Doggedly he said, "We'll eat in an hour." - -Andrews turned to Alice. "Miss Hemingway, are you, perhaps, a bit -hungry?" - -She shook her head quickly. "Frankly, I couldn't get it down and keep -it." - -"Then perhaps in an hour," said Andrews. "I was only thinking of your -comfort." - -Alice squirmed. Both of them were, in their own way, fighting to -control the situation. Andrews had just oozed out of the indignity of -having an order or request countermanded. Norton had just ignored an -implied insult. - -So long as they struggled, quietly, nothing would result but -well-rubbed nerves. But if open conflict broke out it might get rough -indeed. - - - - - IV - - -Faren Twill looked across the table at Regin Naylo. They were alone, -and finally Twill voiced the thought uppermost in both of their minds: - -"This waiting is ridiculous, Regin." - -"I agree. In fact, the only point upon which we disagree is the -method. I say hit them hard, and with finality. You want to make an -equal-to-equal alliance with them." - -Faren shook his head. "Not really," he said. "No real alliance can ever -be possible between stellar races. The alliance I had in mind would be -patterned on the relationship between mother state and protectorate. -We supervise their laws, control their commerce, and apply a small but -adequate taxation to pay us for our service to them. Tariffs and duties -to be set up for a beneficial economy in our favor, and yet low enough -so that they can continue operating, only mildly limited. That sound -sensible to you?" - -"I think it can be carried out more efficiently than that," Regin Naylo -objected thoughtfully. "First we collect the lifeship nearest us, maybe -both of them. We sweep down along the line of search and wait in battle -pattern. Why, we can probably collect their entire fleet without firing -more than a couple of batteries. Then we have the survivors broadcast -on the blanketing infrawave that we are applying the rules of space -salvage and that redemption of their fleet is to cost some nominal -fee--er--say ten metric tons of uranium, nine-nines pure. After which -we take their captured fleet to the seat of their government and take -over. Then we are in a real position to make demands. None of this -simple taxation and commerce control. None of this mother state and -protectorate. This will be conqueror and vanquished." - -"Suppose they fight back?" - -"With what?" asked Naylo sarcastically. "Guided torpedoes and A-heads? -Faugh!" - -"They may have--" - -"Bet you a hat. If they haven't been able to use the infrawave bands -for space locating and detecting, they wouldn't get to first base -discovering the magnus forces." - -"You realize," said Twill, "that you're setting up a pattern of -violence that may never be resolved?" - -"No matter how you set up the meeting of cultures, you've started a -pattern of violence that can never be resolved. I say make 'em realize -right now that they are clobbered. And if they want fight, we'll give -it to 'em." - -Twill growled, "Not too long ago you were cautiously admitting that -elephants can be beaten by a pack of determined rats." - -"Until they put out more than that squadron of twenty-five spacecraft, -they're no real pack, compared to our task force." - -"You may be.... Hush!" - -The door opened. Viggon Sarri looking refreshed and alert, greeted, -"Good morning. You've heard the latest?" - -"What latest?" - -"We've probably located the destination-star. From one of the large -stars along the flight path of the original spacecraft there has formed -a second search squadron of twenty-five spacecraft. The infrawaves are -filled with calls back and forth, coordinating the search pattern." - -"How are they doing?" - -"Depends," replied Viggon Sarri, with a grin. "Poorly, if you mean -that their success looks imminent. But excellently, if you mean their -technique. They're really covering space like a blanket, slice by -slice. But they started on the wrong slice." - -Viggon's armlet buzzed tinnily and he said, "Yes? Go ahead." - -"This is Linus Brein. We have more of their language analogued." - -"I'll be right over." To his second officers Viggon said, "Want to come -along? This may be interesting." - -Naylo shook his head. "We've a bit of a problem to haggle over. We'll -be over to Brein's bailiwick later." - -"You might be missing something, but it's your decision." - - * * * * * - -As soon as the door was closed behind Viggon, Naylo said, "I wonder if -he is getting chicken." - -"Don't let him hear you say that." - -"I won't. But haven't you wondered?" - -"Maybe," said Twill. "But it figures. Viggon Sarri has had a long and -successful career. He has expanded our realm more than any other one -man in history. He will go down in history as a valiant hero. He does -not care to spoil a good record." - -"Hah! You agree, then." - -Twill nodded soberly. He sneered, "Valiant! Hero! Sarri, the -Victorious! Eyewash. What's so glorious about conquering races that -fight back with slings and spears? What's so heroic about mowing down -a flight of airplanes or turning A-heads back on the senders? But now -that we have come upon a race that really has space travel developed to -a fine art--even though they have not exploited it much--Viggon wants -to wait. He's been pushing over children. Now that he's come up against -a half-baked adolescent, he's afraid." - -"What do you suggest?" - -Twill eyed Naylo soberly. "One of us is due to succeed the great Viggon -Sarri," he said flatly. "It may be you and it may be me. It will, -however, be the one who decides properly how to handle this race." - -"All right, then," Naylo grunted. "But it may be neither of us." He -scowled. "Unless you or I can talk the venerable gentleman into action -at once." - -"Right. Let's get started." - -Naylo grinned. "I hope you won't mind working as my second officer, -Faren." - -"You should see the day, Regin. I'll have you reporting to me before -we get home." - -But beneath the banter was an undertone of dead seriousness.... - -Commodore Ted Wilson eyed the search grid unhappily. Out of the center -one thin hexagonal hole had been taken. It left such a lot of space to -be combed. - -The infrawave receiver in the Information Center was alive, and -chattering with data and information and orders. Finally came a call -for Wilson, from Flight Commander Hugh Weston from Castor. - -"Weston here, Ted. How's it coming?" - -"We've completed our first crossing. Nothing but a comet and a rather -insignificant gas cloud." - -"We're approaching you. Any suggestions?" - -"Let's make contact and carry this out together instead of running at -cross-purposes." - -"Meaning?" - -"No independent searching." - -"I think you're wrong," said Weston. - -"But we can do a better job of coverage if we combine all forces into -one big comb." - -"We could," replied Weston. "But do you realize that you'll probably -leave huge holes in your search grid?" - -"That's the point. I know we will. After about the fourth pass, we'll -not be too sure of where we are. God, how I wish we had some method of -pinpointing this absolute nothing! I wish the infrawave could be used -as detecting and ranging." - -"Make that double. But since we haven't got it, I suggest that we form -behind you. There'll be a third squadron from Pollux as soon as Wally -Wainright can get into space with his gang. I expect there'll be more, -too. We'll need 'em all. Out in this featureless void, we don't really -know where we are to any degree of accuracy. At least not the kind of -accuracy needed to find a thing as small as a spacecraft." - -"Lifeship." - -"Lifeship, spacecraft, both Godawful minute when lost in a few cubic -light years of space." - -"I still say we should combine." - -"I still think you should clean out one channel and let us take the -next." - -"Can't see it, Weston." - -"Okay, Ted. You're running this exercise. You're the boss. We combine. -We'll meet you where you are and reform before we make the return pass. -Right?" - -"Right, Hugh. I don't want to argue, but our master computer feels -we've a better chance at the laws of probability if we all comb along -the same line than if each takes a different course and we try to -correlate our positions by sheer stellar astrogation." - - * * * * * - -Poised in space, Wilson and his squadron waited. While they waited, -the astro-techs made star sightings and the computer mulled over -their readings and delivered opinions of several probable enclosures -of position. These volumes were horribly vast compared with the mote -of a spacecraft. They were spherical, indicating the margin of error -in precision-pinpointing their position in deep space. And as the -astro-techs delivered more and more angle sightings on the known stars, -the computer delivered smaller and smaller enclosures as their true -position. - -The problem was a matter of parallax, a matter of angular measurement -against the more distant, or "fixed" stars. Now, it may seem an easy -job to measure the angle of a star with respect to another star. But it -must be remembered that the parallax of the nearer stars, as measured -across the orbit of the earth, is a matter of seconds of arc. - -Parallax is not measured directly with a protractor. It is measured -by comparing the position of the star on a plate against a similar -photograph taken six months ago, using the fixed stars as the frame of -reference. - -In deep space, position is pinpointed by solid triangulation. This -can be represented by a pyramid suspended in space, the corners of -which end at the fixed stars. Take a pyramid of certain solid angles, -depended by points in space, and the apex can be satisfied for only one -spacial position. Repeat these solid-angle measurements and there are -several pyramids pointing their apexes toward the true position. - -But if the orbit of the Earth produces only a second or so of -parallax-arc, any error in angular measurement of such magnitude -produces an error of a thousand light seconds. And the greater the -error in measurement, the larger is the volume of uncertain position. - -This, then, was their problem. To cover, like a blanket, a volume of -space so vast as completely to defy description. All that can be said -of it is in comparison with a number of cubic light years. And who can -grasp the fathomless distance of a light year? It is just a meaningless -statement. - -Eventually the second squadron came up and the ships milled around -until a larger space pattern was formed. Then the two squadrons began -to return along the search grid, on a line overlapping that area -covered in the first pass along the computed line of flight.... - -Alice Hemingway woke up from a fitful doze at the noise of the -infrawave receiver. Charles Andrews was listening to the rapid chatter -back and forth from one squadron to the next. He looked around, and -when he caught her eyes, he said cheerfully, "They're really out -looking for us." - -"I heard," she murmured. - -"Three squadrons, now. And a fourth is just heading out from Procyon. -We'll be picked up--" - -Jock Norton came awake with a cry. "Shut that damned thing off!" he -roared. - -"Why?" demanded Andrews belligerently. - -"It's a waste of power." - -"This thing?" sneered Andrews. - -"That thing. It draws one point three kilowatts. That's plenty -important for a lifeship." - -"Look," suggested Andrews, "why don't we call back and have 'em pick us -up?" - -"Because nobody has ever found any directional quality about the -infrawaves. That's why we can't use 'em for detecting, ranging, and -locating. If they echoed, we might be able to use 'em somehow. But -they're not even directional, let alone echoing. Not only that, but -they are instantaneous in transmission, so even if they did echo they -couldn't be used for ranging. So we'll not waste power howling for more -help. We spend a bit every hour, because we want to let 'em know we're -still alive. But let's not waste any more than we have to." - -Andrews shut off the infrawave receiver. "It was interesting," he said. -"But I suppose we can always assume that they are on the search." He -shivered. "Is it getting cold in here, or am I getting exhausted?" - - * * * * * - -Norton smiled thinly. "Probably both. This space can isn't collecting -any heat. We're too far from any sun. And there aren't enough people in -it to keep it hot." - -"Huh?" - -"The average human puts out an average of about a thousand B.T.U. per -hour over a twenty-four hour day. It rises in activity and falls with -relaxing. But this can needs about five people to keep up the heat -against the black body radiation from the hull." - -"What do we do? Freeze?" - -"One thing we can do. We can use the pedal generator." - -"For what?" - -"Two things. One is to charge up the energy cells. The other is that a -human body in vigorous work can deliver as high as two thousand B.T.U. -per hour. Although I doubt if any human body can keep up that kind of -vigor for a full hour. If you're cold, you can easily warm up, Andrews." - -"Why doesn't this tin can have a small pile?" - -"Why doesn't a steamship lifeboat have a turbine?" - -"I've seen some very small piles and generating gear." - -Norton shook his head. "A lifeship is aimed at providing the maximum -protection for a maximum number of people, under a minimum of luxury. -Stop whining. We're still alive, I keep telling you." - -"At," sneered Andrews, "a hundred bucks an hour." - -"Are you going to argue, or do you want to try some vigor for that bad -temper of yours?" - -"We've got some power left over from the bank," suggested Andrews. -"Let's use that." - -"Not on your life. That's reserve. Sooner or later we're going to use -it for radio pulses." - -"Radio pulses?" - -"For fine control direction-finding and locating." - -Andrews snorted. "How are they going to pick up radio pulses when -they're going thirty or forty parsecs an hour?" - -"They use gravitic mass detectors. As soon as someone gets a register, -they send one of the scouts out to drop below light and listen for -radio pulses. If he hears any, then the whole search squadron stops and -starts really to comb the neighborhood with radar." - -Andrews shivered again. "I'll try that generator," he said. "Could we -pedal enough juice to run the drivers?" - -Norton laughed. "Sure. Like you could row a battleship with a rusty -broom handle. Have you got the remotest idea of how far we are from -anything?" - -"No." - -"Neither have I." - -"All right. Where's your damned exercising machine?" - -"Below. I'll show you. I want to cut the paragrav generator by half, -anyway." - -"Paragrav?" - -"Pseudo-gravity," said Norton crisply. "You've noticed there's still an -up and down? That's it. But the damned thing radiates heat like mad, -along with producing its gravitic field. I want to conserve all the -heat we can. With a full complement of survivors, this space can stay -more than comfortably warm. But with only three, it radiates more than -is comfortable. Come on, Andrews. I'll show you this crate, too." - -Alice felt the gravitic pull diminish, and then Norton was back in the -main room of the lifeship. He came over and sat down beside her. - -"Cold, kid?" - -Alice shivered. "Just a little. Is this going to get worse?" - -"Probably, but not too much. If we all exercise heavily, keep the pedal -generator going, and eat heartily, we'll not fight too losing a battle -against radiation." - -She shivered again. Jock put a large but gentle hand on her shoulder. -"Let me warm you a bit," he said softly. - - * * * * * - -Alice looked at him cynically. "I'm not that cold," she told him. She -did not move, but the tone of her voice made him remove his hand from -her shoulder. - -He smiled at her. "You're likely to be eventually." - -"Maybe. But there are blankets, and I'm not above taking a turn on that -pedal generator myself, you know." - -"It's no job for a woman, Alice." - -She sniffed contemptuously. "This is no place for woman or man," she -said. "But I can pull my own weight, Mr. Norton." - -"You're a solid character," he said. - -"I've always thought so." - -"This is going to get rougher, Alice. Can't we be a little more -friendly?" - -"Meaning what?" she snapped icily. - -"Meaning only that you deserve better than that Napoleon type down -there." - -Alice laughed in a brittle tone. "And you're it?" - -"I'll be a lot more fun." - -"No doubt. And nothing but fun. What do you expect to do when the fun -becomes hollow?" - -"It hasn't yet." - -"It will some day. You can't go on being a slightly irresponsible -loafer all your life." - -"Who is?" - -"You are." - -"Look," said Jock Norton angrily, "I'm still running this lifeship the -way it's supposed to be run." - -"At a hundred an hour." - -"Maybe so. But let me ask you, which one of us would you rather have -around right now? The trained spaceman or the captain of industry?" - -"That's a fool question," said Alice. "Loaded to the gills. You know -the answer to that. But once we get back home, then?" - -"You're not hoping to marry that dried-up little--" - -Alice laughed, almost hysterically. - -"This will kill you, but until you assumed that I was sleeping with -him as well as taking his dictation, I hadn't really looked upon -Charles Andrews as anything but an employer. Sure, he's male. So is -my Uncle Ned, my brother, and my nephew. Not to mention my father and -grandfather. But Mr. Andrews is not my idea of a lover." - -Jock Norton nodded soberly. He took a deep breath of satisfaction. -Alice underwent a swift revision in his mental classification of her. -She changed from a luxury-bought mistress to be seduced by the offer of -real fun and passion into a woman with no emotional connections, to be -seduced for the fun of it. Both, in Norton's mind, were fair game. - -"What's wrong with me?" he asked. - -"Nothing much, Jock Norton, except that you're essentially lazy." - -"Lazy?" - -"Lazy," she repeated. "Want it both barrels, or will you take it with -sugar?" - -"Hard. What's wrong with me?" - -"You're educated. You know a lot. You've explained things that neither -Mr. Andrews nor I had ever dreamed of, let alone understood. You know -your way around spacecraft, know a lot of the basic sciences. Not that -you'd ever be a scientist, but you're bright enough to grasp the idea -and make it work. But what do you do about it? You jockey a spacer, -instead of digging in and making it pay off. You look for the easy way -out instead of working for it." Alice looked up at him sharply to see -how he was taking it, and then she added, "You have the only brain -present that has the mental right to stand up and direct operations. -Instead, you argue and backstep." - -Harshly he said, "What would you have me do--take a swing at Napoleon -when he sits on those short hind legs of his and objects or demands?" - -"I don't know. I'm not a spaceman, responsible for the lives of three -people--at a hundred clams an hour." - -"Some day I'm going to shove those hundred fish down your throat." - -"Do. And I'll spit 'em back at you!" - -Norton roughly took her shoulders in his hands. He twisted her to face -him, clamped down on her soft shoulders until she turned her face up -to complain with welling eyes. He put his lips on hers and tried to -force some warmth into them. She submitted calmly, and when he found no -response and opened his eyes, she was staring at him vacantly. - -Abruptly he let her go. She relaxed in the seat. - -"I'm not afraid to work," he said in a hollow voice. - -"Prove it," she replied flatly. - -He got up, left her there, and went below. - - - - - V - - -Wilson sat in the Information Center and eyed the search grid glumly. -It stretched stereoscopically out in the room, a lot of its vacant -network of gleaming white lines frosted over with white shading, to -mark where the search had covered. - -There were a lot of untouched spaces--a horde, a myriad. On the side -wall was a chart, showing that nine squadrons of twenty-five spacecraft -each were patrolling back and forth through the uncharted wastes, -seeking the space-wrecked lifeships. - -The maddening part was the hourly report from both lifeships. It was -like someone hiding in the dark and calling for aid, invisible and -alone. And not really calling for aid, but only making whimpering -noises. For the signaling equipment on the lifeships was not equipped -with the complicated infrawave phone, but only with the simple -signal-emitter, coded to transmit the identification call of the unit. - -On the hour they came in, calling three times, "Lifeship Seventy-nine, -Seventy-nine, Number Three." Number Two had not been heard from. -Presumably it was not in use, or hadn't made the grade. - -Wilson chewed his fingernails and fretted. Was Alice on Number One or -Number Three, or was she on Number Two and it had foundered? - -If she were still alive, what kind of fellow survivors were with her? - -He hoped she was with a group. If she had blown out in a lifeship with -only one other--well, Ted Wilson did not like the idea. Of course, it -was more customary than not for a young woman to love lightly before -she mated permanently. There was a lot less chance of wading into -matrimony wide-eyed and ignorant of what it was all about. - -But Wilson, if willing to face such transient loving at all, would -have preferred that Alice have her chance to pick and choose, rather -than have the matter thrust upon her in the middle of a threatening -situation. The passion that comes with the shadow of death is only the -instinct of racial preservation, and it mates men and women unsuited to -one another during subsequent peace and quiet. - -Above all, he did not want Alice to emerge from this moment of personal -danger morally bound to some unsuitable mate because of a child -conceived under the shadow of the sword! - -Hourly, after the coded signals came in, Ted Wilson took the microphone -himself and called out into space in the infrawave. He called messages -of hope, and explained how many spacecraft were scouring the deep black -void. He could only pray that he would be heard, that his voice would -give Alice some firm foundation for hope. - -He could not be sure the passengers from the wrecked spaceship even had -their receivers turned on, because infrawave receivers drink up a lot -of power and lifeships are not equipped with any vast reserve. There -just was not the room in a lifeship for anything more than the bare -necessities of living. - -The search grid was a truncated cone, and the whitened areas of -finished search had finally filled the smaller end of the cone. There -was the flared skirt of the cone yet to be combed, and this provided -more volume than the cylinder taken out of the middle. It also provided -a shorter search path as the searching spacecraft built out the volume, -ring after ring around the first pass along the line of flight. - -Far, far to one side a detector registered, and brought every man -in the fleet to the alert. Then they relaxed unhappily again as the -scooter returned with another report of a small gas cloud. Wilson -thought glumly that they had discovered enough space meteors, gas -clouds, and unawakened comets to make up a small sun. - -Then his attention was taken from his own personal troubles by the -arrival of another squadron from Centauri. He found himself busy -readjusting the search pattern to accommodate this new contingent. - -He eyed the pattern in the stereo and hoped it was good enough. - - * * * * * - -There was the basic aggregate of nine full squadrons spread out flat in -a space lattice that ran back and forth from narrow end to wide end of -the cone of probability. There was one full squadron of roving ships -that went aimlessly back and forth across the pattern, just to cope -with the happenstance factor. - -One squadron was parked at either end of the search grid as space -markers, with a computer ship at either end to maintain a constant -check on their space coordinates. The big search pattern shuttled from -one end to the other, and if they came back to miss the marker ships, -they retraced their path so that no space went uncombed. - -The infrawave chattered and Space Admiral Stone was calling for -Commodore Theodore Wilson. - -"How're you coming?" - -Wilson replied, "We're still at it, Admiral. So far we haven't seen -her." - -"Don't forget, Wilson, there's more lost out there than the woman you -want." - -Ted wanted to snap back angrily, but all he said was, "You don't mind -if I take this search personally, do you, Admiral Stone? I'm not -overlooking any bets, but I do admit that Miss Hemingway is a bit more -important to me than any of the rest." - -"No, I suppose no one could blame you for that. Just keep it up, -Wilson." - -"Sure," Ted said wearily. "After all, this is a black and white job I'm -on. Either we'll be successful--or we won't." - -"Luck." - -"Spaceman's luck, Admiral." - -Wilson went back to his brooding.... - -Charles Andrews came back into the salon with a brisk air. He -flexed his arms, took a deep breath, and mopped his forehead with a -handkerchief. He sat down beside Alice and smiled at her warmly. - -"That thing is a wonder worker," he said, breathing deeply. "Nothing -like exercise to make a man feel fine and fit." - -Alice looked up at him with some amusement. "Mr. Andrews, tell me. Are -you the kind of man who opens the window on a winter morning about six -o'clock, and takes deep lungsful of icy air?" - -"Not quite that bad, my dear. Not quite. But brisk living does keep a -man sharp and hard. I daresay I acquitted myself well on that pedal -generator despite my fifty years." - -"No doubt." - -Andrews chuckled. "I'll do better than our young pilot friend. The man -is big, and should be muscular, but he is soft from lack of exercise. -Yet he'll attempt to stay there longer than I did, I guess." - -"No doubt." - -He eyed her sharply, not missing her repetitious dry reply. - -"Which, incidentally," he said, "gives me my first chance to speak with -you alone since we took off from Earth." - -"That's so. But--" - -"Miss Hemingway, you are an exceedingly brisk young woman, attractive -and intelligent. May I ask if you have ever taken a lover?" - -"Why, no." - -"Never considered it?" - -She smiled thinly. "Naturally. All women think about it. Most do. -I--er--" - -Alice let her voice trail away uncertainly. The direct, frontal attack -had put her off-balance, but she realized that this was Andrews' direct -way. - -He had smiled at her uncertainty, and said swiftly, "Then may I be the -first--" when he noted the fading amusement in her face and glibly ad -libbed--"to congratulate you on your choice of young men? The space -commodore to whom you bade farewell in Chicago was an up and coming -man, I'd assume." - -"I rather imagine he's out here somewhere in the search group," she -said. - -"He may even be directing it," Andrews said carefully. - -One thing he knew well--never run down a rival. It always brought on -a defensive attitude. Build the rival up, and the return might be -sympathetic. A clever course could be traveled between build-up and -tear-down. - - * * * * * - -Looking at Alice thoughtfully, Andrews got up and began to rummage -through a few lockers. Eventually he found a blanket and brought it to -her. - -"I'm not too familiar with these life cans," he told her, with a -disarming smile. "I hope I remain in ignorance of them. But I found -what I was after. Now, Miss Hemingway, if you'll stretch out, I'll tuck -you in, and you can get some shut-eye." - -"That I can use," she said honestly. - -The blanket felt good. So did his hands, smoothing out the blanket, but -being carefully tender and proper. Andrews was a smooth operator of -many years' experience. - -Eventually she slept. - -Andrews found another cigar, and smoked it languidly, his eyes roaming -around the metal walls of the cabin. He was thinking that he disliked -Jack Norton immensely, although he knew that chances of survival were -better with Norton's boorish, interfering presence than without. He was -bored, he was angry, he was above all resentful of the time wasted in -this spacewreck business.... - -An orderly tapped Commodore Wilson on the shoulder. "Message from -Terra," he said. - -Wilson groaned and reached for the telephone beside his bunk. "Wilson -here," he said. "Go ahead!" - -"Admiral Stone. Wilson, a new ship is on the way. I want you to get -into this thing fully, so I'm briefing you now." - -"New type of ship?" - -"Well, not a new ship, but some new equipment. The Infrawave Section of -the Space Department Radiation Laboratory has some experimental gear -they want to try in actual service." - -"Experimental gear?" - -"Sheer experiment, Wilson. It's supposed to be an infrawave detecting -and ranging device. It's shown low grade response so far, and it may -be entirely useless to you. But Radiation feels that even something -incomplete and erratic may be better than going it blind." - -Wilson sat up, interested. "How does it work?" - -"Darned if I know. It took a whole cruiser class to carry the junk -that makes it tick. It's piled in with twine and baling wire, and when -the crate took off the advanced techs were still connecting cables and -adjusting the guts. Er--how're you feeling?" - -"Tired and frustrated." - -"Mind a bad joke?" - -"Well--" - -"Go on and have a laugh, Wilson. This gizmo reminded me of the new -machine that made shoes so fast that it put twelve shoemakers out of -work--and it took only eighteen men to run it." - -A silence ensued. Then Stone said: - -"Well, Wilson, I thought you'd like to know we're pouring the best -we've got into space for you. Ship should be along in another hour or -two." - -"Yeah--thanks, Admiral Stone. And the joke was funny, at least the -first time I heard it, it was. I'll get on the cubes and wait for the -ship." - -Wearily Commodore Ted Wilson climbed out of his bunk and began to -dress.... - - * * * * * - -Viggon Sarri said, "Now we know more about this race. They definitely -are of the class where the individual is of extreme importance to -the whole. This belies both the communal, or insect type and the -anarchistic, or individualistic type. The quantity of men and machinery -they are pouring into this search is amazing." - -"They aren't much closer to success," offered Regin Naylo. "And we're -wasting time." - -"You think so?" - -"We both think so," Faren Twill said firmly. - -"Oh?" Viggon Sarri looked at them in surprise. "Then maybe I have the -wrong idea. Let me hear your suggestions." - -Twill and Naylo looked at one another, fencing with their eyes. Finally -Twill nodded and said, "You say it, Regin." - -"It's already been said." Regin Naylo looked pointedly at Linus Brein. -"A day or so ago you claimed that you'd picked up some primitive -infrawave emission that looked as though someone might be trying to -develop a detecting and ranging device." - -"Yes." - -"Then it is my contention that any moves we make against this race -should be made before anybody down there gets such a detector and -ranger working." - -"Why?" demanded Viggon Sarri. - -Regin Naylo looked at his commander. "We're losing a technical -advantage. Whether we go in with a benign and peaceful-looking air and -show them how big and fast we are, or whether we plunge in and hit 'em -with every battery we've got and reduce 'em to submission, we've got to -do it before anybody succeeds in making an infrawave space detector. -Understand?" - -Viggon Sarri looked from one to the other, grimly. "You believe I'm -wasting time? Is that it?" - -The two aides answered together, "Yes!" and "Absolutely!" - -Viggon Sarri said, "I am still in command of this force. We'll continue -to observe until I am satisfied. You two officers have one common -idea--that of moving in fast. You have differing ideas of how we are -to move in. Until you can settle your difference and provide me with a -good logical basis for your decision--whichever way--then we'll follow -my plan. And my plan is to move in just as soon as we have enough data -on the character and strength of this race to provide us with the -correct way to take them." - -"Then you are going to continue stalling?" demanded Naylo. - -"Yes, if you wish to call it stalling. Maybe another man might call it -planning." - -"We'll be just wasting time, as I've already said. We have enough stuff -to take 'em right now." - -Viggon Sarri shrugged. "Yes. We could swoop in and take them like -mowing down a wheat field. Tell me, young men, what happens when you -mow down a wheat field." - -They looked at him blankly. - -Viggon smiled in a superior manner. "One of two things, depending upon -how you operate. If you mow it down and let it lay, you drop seeds and -next year it comes up thicker. If you mow it down, remove the seeds, -sow it with salt and kill the field, you have a useless plot of land, a -worthless territory. Then some day up comes weed and briar--which then -must be removed root and branch before the land is plantable again. -Just remember, we are after a profitable exchange of economy, not -another stellar system to list as a conquest for the sake of history -our children will read. I want my reward now, or next week. Having my -name on a monument does not have much appeal." - -He was half standing with his hands closed into fists, his knuckles on -the table supporting him as he leaned forward to drive his facts home. - -"Or," he added scathingly, "are you two firebrands so youthful that you -don't know that a man has only one single lone chance at this business -of living? And that your finest reward at eventide is knowing you have -lived a full and eventful life without screwing it up somewhere along -the line by making a lot of idiotic moves?" - -Viggon Sarri turned on a heel and walked out. - - * * * * * - -Naylo and Twill turned to Linus Brein. - -"What do you think?" Twill asked. - -Linus Brein shrugged. "He is undoubtedly right. Besides, we don't know -all there is to know about the strange race out there yet." - -"Oh, faugh! What else--" - -Linus Brein smiled. He said slowly. "We don't even know whether or not -they are oxygen-breathing." - -"We can assume from the stellar type of their primaries that they are." - -Linus nodded. "Probably, but not positively." - -Regin Naylo said, "And what's second, Linus?" - -"They may be contraterrene." - -"Seetee?" - -Linus Brein nodded. "In which case from both sides we must watch our -steps. Get involved with a seetee race the wrong way and you have two -cultures with absolutely nothing in common but a life-factor, busy -tossing chunks of their own kind of matter at one another in a fight -to exterminate. So before either of you start making half-baked plans, -you'd better get your heads together and plan something that sounds -reasonable to the Big Boss. Right?" - - - - - VI - - -Commodore Wilson eyed the spacecraft full of hastily assembled -instruments with a grimace. The ship was swarming with techs who were -peering into oscilloscopes, watching meters, and tinkering with signal -generators. A huge concave hemispherical dome above was a splatter of -little flickering green pinpoints and dark patches. - -"This idea is hopelessly haywire," Wilson said unhappily. - -"It sure is," said Space-Tech Maury Allison. "But everything is, at -first." - -"You hope to make something out of it?" - -"We hope," replied Allison. "We can't be sure." - -"But surely this pile of junk has been tested before?" - -Allison nodded. - -"Any results?" - -"Some. We've had as much as five minutes of constant operation out of -it." - -As he spoke, the hemisphere over their heads flashed a full bright -green, then went black. A bell tinkled somewhere and a couple of techs -dropped their tools and headed for the back room on the double. A -couple of others stood up from their work and lit cigarettes because -their instruments had gone dead. Some of the rest continued to nurse -their particular circuits because that section was still running. - -[Illustration: The dome became a riot of flaming green.] - -After scanning the operation to see which section had gone blooey, -Allison went on. "We've never tested this outfit under anything -but ideal conditions. We've had spacecraft sent out to specified -distances, fired up the gizmo and found fragments of response right -where there should be a response." - -"That's hardly fair, is it?" commented Wilson. - -"It's a start. You have to start somewhere. Radio--know its start? -The first message was sent across the ocean a few hundred years ago -from one man to the other after they had made a complete plan as to -time, date, location and frequency, and also the transmitted message. -Sure enough, they got through. That, too, was under the ideal test -conditions. So when we finally assembled the half-a-hundred separate -circuits and devices that made it look as though we might have a space -detector, we put up targets, aimed our equipment, and looked for a -response where there should be one." - -"We don't know where our target is," objected Wilson. - -"And we haven't yet fired up this equipment to seek a target of unknown -position and range," admitted Allison. "But this gear is better than -nothing." - -Again the green spots flickered in the dome over their heads. - -"What do all those spots mean?" asked Wilson. - -"Those are false targets, probably caused by background noise. Although -the infrawave is noiseless, we still seem to be getting it. Dr. -Friedrich disagrees. He claims this is not noise, but interferences. -However, the good doctor is not at all certain that the so-called -interferences come from localized conditions within the equipment or -from external sources." - -Wilson shrugged. "I don't see how it's done with a radiation type that -has neither a directional quality nor a velocity of propagation." - -"Do you understand Accum?" - -"I stopped shortly before Matrix. Accumulative Math is so much pothooks -on a sheet of paper to me." - -"Um. Then I'd find it hard to explain. The theory seems to be -demonstrable, and the accumulative mathematics upholds the -experimental evidence. But there hasn't yet been an acceptable verbal -description of what happens." - -"I've often wondered, leaving the nondirectional quality out of it, -why we couldn't cut our emitting power and somehow compute range by -observing the incoming power from a distant infrawave transmitter." - -Allison shook his head. "Oddly enough, the matrix mathematics that -deal with radiation shows that for any hypothetical radiation with an -infinite velocity of propagation, there can be no attenuation with -distance." - -"Meaning that we should be able to transmit all the way from here to -hell and back." - -"Not exactly. Infrawave radiation comes in quanta, you know. A kilowatt -covers two point one, seven nine three six plus parsecs. Two kilowatts -covers twice that distance minus the ninth root of two point, seven -nine three six plus. Three kilowatts covers three times two point et -cetera, minus two times the ninth root." Allison shrugged and spread -his hands. - - * * * * * - -"And so on it goes," he said, "indicating that at some devilish -distance--I've forgotten the figure but we had the master computer chew -it out on the big machine at Radiation once--an additional kilowatt -just shoves the signal coverage distance out by a micron. But if you -don't put in your honest kilowatt, you don't excite the infraspace that -carries infrawaves. And if you put in a kilowatt and a half, you have -to dissipate the half." - -Wilson grunted. "Nice to have things come out even. Who'd have thunk -that the Creator wanted the Terran kilowatt to equal one quanta of -infrawave distance?" - -Allison laughed. "Poor argument, Commodore Wilson. Actually, the figure -is point nine, eight three four plus. Close, but no cigar. We've -just come to accept the figure as a kilowatt, just as for everyday -calculation we accept the less refined figure of two point, one eight -parsecs, or even two point, two. At any rate--" - -There was a puff of something, and a sound like the puncture of a tire. -The green speckles on the dome merged with one another and became -a riot of flaming green. There were shouts and cries and a lot of -haphazard orders and several techs scrambled to snap toggle switches. - -Down the room one of the techs went head-first into a rack with a pair -of pliers and a soldering iron. He backed out carrying a smoking little -shapeless thing that had lost any character it once possessed. The tech -picked up a nice, shiny new doodad from a small box and went into the -rack again. When he came out this time he gave a hoarse cheer. Toggles -were snapped back and the spreckles reappeared. - -One of the techs came up to Allison and said, "See that spot up there, -sir? The one just this side of the eighty-one degree longitude circle, -and a little below the forty-five latitude ring?" - -"Yes." - -It was a small round disc no more than an inch in diameter. - -"We think that may be a response." - -Wilson said, "You mean a target? Possibly one of the lifeships?" - -"Yes." - -"I'll have a scooter go out and see. What's its spacial position?" - -The tech took another look. "I'd say eighty-one plus longitude and -forty-three latitude." - -"From what?" demanded Wilson. - -"From ship's axis, sir." - -"Distance?" - -"Oh, about half a parsec." - -Wilson groaned. "Haven't you determined any spacial attitude?" - -"Attitude, sir?" - -"The angle of the ship's axis with respect to the stellar positions. -So you've a blotch out there at half a parsec. It's an inch or so in -diameter. Have one of your juniors run off some trig on the calculator -and then tell me how much probable space volume that so-called response -represents." - -The tech thought a minute. "We've never run this gear anywhere -but at Radiation, right at Mojave labs, on Earth. Our spacial -coordinates--well, I'm afraid we--" His voice trailed away unhappily. - -Wilson picked up the interphone and barked a call. - -"Weston? Look, Hugh, can you get over here quick with a couple of your -top astrogators? We've got a bunch of longhairs with a fancy infrawave -detector and ranger, but the damned coordinates are set axially with -the ship." - -He listened to Hugh Weston's reply. - -"Yeah," he said then. "We know where the target is with respect to the -ship, but we don't know the spacial attitude of the ship with respect -to the galactic check points. Right over? Good." - - * * * * * - -As Wilson hung up the dome flickered, then went into a regular -_flash-flash-flash_ until something else came unglued and the dome -went blank. There was shouting and rather heart-felt cussing, and some -running around again before the dome light came back. - -A tech--not the one that had come up before--moved into place alongside -the commodore. - -"Mr. Wilson, sir," he said, "I wonder if--er--That is, sir--er--" - -"Take it easy," said Wilson, half-smiling. - -"Well, sir, we've been getting a lot of interference." - -Wilson looked up at the flickering dome. He merely nodded. - -"Well, sir--er--I was wondering if you could issue some--er--order to -have the other ships move away? I'm sure we could find those lifeships -if the rest of space were clear. But you've got three hundred--" - -Wilson stared the youngster down coldly. "Somewhere out there," he said -sourly, "are two lifeships in which men, and a woman, are waiting for -us to come and collect 'em. I'm combing space almost inch by inch. I -can hardly give up my squadron for a half-finished flash in the dome -like this, can I?" - -"No sir--ah--I suppose not." - -"Then you live with the responses tossed back by my squadron. It'll be -good training for you. Er--get the hell out of my way!" - -The junior tech melted out of sight and went back to his control panel. - -Weston came over within the hour. Ted Wilson explained the situation -and told Hugh to set up and measure the coordinates with respect to -the stellar centers. Then he told him to send a space scooter out to -investigate that spot. - -Wilson went back to his own flagship wondering whether that fancy -infrawave detector would turn out to be anything. An untried doodad. -But now and then-- - -Wearily again, Commodore Wilson called Commander Hatch, who skippered -one of the scout carriers. He told Hatch to make himself available -either to Hugh Weston or Maury Allison, to investigate infrawave -response targets as they saw fit. - -Then Wilson hit the sack to finish his off-duty. - -He dozed fitfully, but he did not sleep worth a damn. He would have -been better off if he could have taken the controls of one of the -spacers and gone out himself. Then, at least, he would have something -to fill his mind and idle hands.... - -Alice Hemingway awoke from a rather pleasant dream that had something -to do with either ice skating or skiing, or it might have been -tobogganing--the dream had faded so fast she could not be sure--to face -the fact that she was feeling on the chill side. - -Her blanket had slipped. She caught it around her, and in minutes -felt fairly warm again. It was not so much, she thought, the actual -temperature in the lifeship, but the whole damned attitude of people, -and everything else that was so chilling. - -The lights were running all right, and from deep below she could hear -the ragged throb of the pedal generator. She wondered which of the two -men was pumping it this time. - -When Jock Norton came in, she knew. He was mopping his face with a -towel. He looked clean and bright, freshly shaved. - -She looked at him and wished she could have a hot shower herself, and a -change of clothing. She wanted a ten-hour sleep in a nice soft bed with -clean sheets, too, and wearing a silk-soft nightgown. - -"Awake, Alice?" Norton asked brightly. - -"Awake again," she said unhappily. "For.... What is it? The ninth day?" - -"Eighth," he said. "Can't go on much longer." - -"I hope not." - -"You look all in," he said softly. He sat down on the edge of the -divan, beside her, and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Take it -easy, m'lady. They're really scouring space for us. We'll be all right. -You'll see." - - * * * * * - -Unexpectedly he bent and kissed her chastely on the forehead. Alice -tensed at first, but relaxed almost immediately because the warmth of -that honest affection made her feel less alone and cold, in the depths -of uncharted space. Some of the worry and concern was erased, at least. -She stretched warmly as he rubbed her forehead with his cheek. - -Then he sat up and looked down at her. He put his hand on her cheek -gently and said, "We'll be all right, kid." - -"Eight days," she said in a hoarse whisper. - -He nodded solemnly. "Every hour means they must be coming closer and -closer. Every lonely hour means that it can't be many more, because -they've covered all the places where we weren't. Follow me, Alice?" - -She shook her head unhappily. - -Doggedly he tried to explain. "They know that we must lie within a -certain truncated conical volume of space. They comb this space bit by -bit and chart it. Since the volume is known, and since it takes so many -hours of work to comb a given volume, that means that at the end of a -given time all the predicted volume of space has been covered. Since we -must lie within that, we are bound to be picked up before they cover -the last cubic mile." - -"But how long?" she breathed. - -"I wouldn't know," he told her honestly. "I have no possible way of -computing it. They've got the best of computers and plotters, and -they've got the law of probabilities on their side. But it's dead -certain we'll be found." - -"I hope." - -"I know," he said. - -"You've changed, Jock Norton." - -"Changed?" - -"You looked on this as a lark, before." - -"Not exactly," he objected. - -"But you did." - -Slowly he shook his head. "Not exactly," he repeated. "I don't think -I've changed at all. I still think that when you're faced with -something inevitable you might as well look at it from the more -cheerful side. After all, there was the chance that we might not have -made it this far, you know. Now, tell me honestly, does it make sense -getting all worried-up by thinking of how horrible it would have been -if we'd been caught back there when Seventy-nine blew up?" - -"I suppose not." - -"Well, then," he said in a semi-cheerful tone, "since we did make it -out safely, and are still waiting after eight days, we might as well -expect to be collected soon." - -Charles Andrews said, from behind him, "At a hundred dollars an hour, -Norton?" - -Norton turned around angrily. "So it's the hundred clams per," he -snapped back. "That's damned poor payment for having to live with the -likes of you in a space can this cramped." - -Andrews eyed the pilot with distaste. "Tell me," he said smoothly, -"did my last effort on the pedal generator go for power storage, or -for a couple of gallons of hot water for that shave and shower you've -enjoyed?" - -Norton stretched and stood up. "I figured that having a clean face -might help morale," he said pointedly. - -"You're a cheap, chiseling--" - -"Easy, Andrews! Easy. There's a lady present. Besides, I might forget -my easy-going nature and take a swing at you." - -Andrews said scornfully, "Without a doubt, a man of your age and build -could wipe up the lifeship with me." - -Norton chuckled. "Don't count on your age being good protection, -Andrews. You may push me far enough to make me forget that you're a -decrepit old man who has to buy what your physique can't get you." - -"Now see here!" roared Andrews. - - * * * * * - -He was stopped short by Norton who took one long step forward to grasp -him by the coat lapels. Andrews' face went white, because he was -looking into the face of dark anger. Norton's other hand was clenched -in a large, tight fist. He eyed the older man sourly for a minute, then -shoved him backward to collapse in a chair. - -"What are you trying to do?" sneered Norton. "Make me mad enough to -clip you so you can yell 'Foul!'? I know as well as you do that the law -doesn't even recognize taunts and tongue-lashings as contributory to -assault." - -Alice got up from her couch and stood between them. "Stop it, both of -you!" she cried. "Stop it!" - -Norton's anger subsided. "All right," he said to Andrews. "Now that -we've all had our lungs exercised, I'll go below and pedal that -generator. Alice, you can have the bathroom first. Andrews, you take it -with what she leaves. Is that okay?" - -"Aren't you the hard-working little Boy Scout?" - -"Sure." Norton grinned. "I am that." He disappeared down the ladder -towards the generator room. - -Andrews turned to Alice. "You're not going to go for that fancy -routine, are you?" he demanded crossly. - -"What routine?" - -"First he uses power for hot water, power that I was storing up. Now -he's going to pedal that thing to waste more power." - -Alice shrugged. "He's the spaceman," she said simply. "If he thinks we -can spare the power for a bath, I could certainly use one." - -"How can you trust the likes of him?" - -"We've got to," she said. "We've got to." - -"I wouldn't," said Andrews. "I can't." - -She looked at her employer seriously. "We've both got to trust him," -she said quietly. "Because, right or wrong, he is the only one who -knows anything about space and what's likely to happen next." - -"At a hundred an hour," Andrews said for the ninetieth time or so, -scathingly. - -Alice nodded soberly. "But you mustn't forget that isn't going to do -him any good unless he gets us all home so that he can use it." - -Reluctantly, Andrews nodded. "I suppose you're right." - -Then Alice added, "And even if it weren't for the hundred per, he isn't -the kind to kill himself." - -Andrews grunted, "No, he isn't. But Alice, I'm not at all sure that -Norton knows whether he's doing the right thing or not." - -She shook her head. There was no answer to that argument. Furthermore, -it was the kind of unresolvable argument that could go on and on until -the answer was supplied from the outside. There could be no end to it -until they were either picked up safely or died in lonely space. - -She decided to drop the discussion as pointless, so headed for the -bathroom. A hot shower and a quick tubbing of her underclothing were -on her mind. Her garments, of course, would dry instantly. She had -to smile a little. To think that a hundred years ago women thought -something they called nylon was wonderful because it was fairly -quick-drying! Not instantaneous, of course, as was the material of -which her lingerie was made. - -Anyhow, getting it clean now, and having a bath herself would make -her feel better. And she would be better equipped to face the -nerve-gruelling business of just sitting there watching the clock go -around and around, with nothing to do but wait. - - - - - VII - - -Regin Naylo faced his superior with a scowl. "That rips it wide open," -he said. - -Viggon Sarri smiled confidently. He glanced at Linus Brein and asked, -"Just how competent do you think this new thing is?" - -Linus shrugged. "We've analyzed the infrawave pattern they've -developed. It is obvious that this is their first prototype of an -infrawave space detector. The pattern is of the primitive absorptive -type, which is both inefficient as a detector and is also inclined to -produce spurious responses. From our observations, their equipment -must be extremely complex too. It must be loaded to the scuppers with -fragile circuits and components, because the search pattern keeps -breaking down, or becoming irregular. An efficient detector cannot -be made of the infrawave bands until the third order of reflective -response is discovered. I doubt that any research team, no matter how -big, can start with the primitive absorption phase of the infrawaves -and leap to the higher orders of infrawave radiation in less than a -lifetime of study." - -"So, gentlemen?" asked Viggon of his two aides. "Can you predict -whether or not their new detector will deliver the goods?" - -All looked expectantly at Linus Brein. - -"We've been recalculating our probabilities at the introduction of each -new phase of their behaviour," Linus Brein said seriously. "From their -actions, I would say that they do not know, grasp, or perhaps even -guess that space has flaws and warps in the continuum. They have been -going at their search in a pattern of solid geometrical precision, but -have been paying no attention to those rifts, small as they are, that -actually make a straight course bend aside for a distance. So due to -the fact that their search pattern has already passed over one of these -rifts in which the one lifeship lies, and passed beyond in their line -of search, we have produced a nine-nines probability that they will not -locate this lifeship." - -"And the other?" prompted Viggon Sarri, with interest. - -"I'm not done with the first yet," Linus Brein said quietly. "There -remains the random search group. Therein lies the eight-oughts-one -positive probability." - -Viggon snorted. "I call ten to the minus ten chances rather hopeless. -But go on, Linus." - -"The other has a sixty-forty chance," he said. "If the infrawave -detector locates the space rift that lies along our coordinate three -seventy-six, when the ship is near seven sixty-seven, then the scout -craft will pass within magnetic detection range of the lifeship. That's -a lot of 'ifs', I know, but they add up to a sixty-forty chance. I -say this because space rifts tend to produce strong responses in any -of the primitive detecting gear. They've certainly been busy running -down space warps, which indicates that they've been getting a lot -of spurious responses." He smiled. "If space were entirely clear of -foreign matter and space rifts, they'd find their new detector vaguely -inefficient. I--" - -Viggon waved a hand to indicate he had heard enough. - -"Gentlemen," he said quietly. "I've been criticized for waiting, but -what one man calls study the other man calls timidity. We'll continue -to wait for the final factor. Then we'll know...." - - * * * * * - -The stereo pattern in the Information Center of Commodore Ted Wilson's -flagship was slowly being filled with the hazy white that indicated -that these volumes had been combed carefully. As he watched, he could -see how the search was progressing, and it was painfully obvious that -the search was not going good at all. - -The flights of spacecraft in set patterns back and forth through the -stereo had covered nearly all of the truncated space cone. The random -search ships were slowly cutting secondary lines through the regions -already covered. There was a green sphere combing the stereo pattern -now, indicating the new infrawave detector ship and its expected volume -of detector coverage. - -Space was filled to overflowing with the fast patter of the -communications officers, using infrawave for talks between flights, and -ordinary radio for talks between ships of the same flight. - -Wilson had appointed Chief Communications Officer Haggerty to police -the bands. Haggerty had done a fine job, removing the howling confusion -and interference caused from too many calls on the same channel. But -the result was still a high degree of constant call and reply and -cross talk. Most of the chatter came from the infrawave detector ship, -sending the scout craft flitting hither and thither on the trail of -spurious responses. - -It was almost impossible to grasp the extent of the operation. Only in -the stereo pattern could anybody begin to follow the complex operation, -and those who watched the stereo knew that their pattern was only an -idealized space map of what they hoped was going on. - -It was worse than combing the area of an ocean from maps that contained -a neat grid of cross rules. Much worse. For the uncharted ocean is -gridded with radio location finders so accurate that the position of -two ships a hundred yards apart shows a hundred yards of difference in -absolute position in the loran. - -Some day in the distant future space would be solid-gridded with -infrawave navigation signals. Then the space coordinates of any -spacecraft could be found to a fine degree of precision. But now all -that Wilson and his nav-techs could do was to keep sighting the fixed -stars, and from them compute their position. - -This sort of space navigation was good enough to keep a ship on course, -but far from precise enough to pinprick a true position. But, after -all, a crude positioning in the middle of interstellar space is good -enough. One literally has cubic light years to float around in. Once -the spacecraft begins to approach a destination, the space positioning -can be made. - -Again, few spacecraft pause in mid-flight between stars long enough to -care about their interstellar position. After all, space flight does -provide a mode of travel where the destination lies within eyesight. -Or rather, it has lain within eyesight ever since it became commonly -accepted that these ultimate destinations were places, instead of holes -poked in an inverted ceramic bowl. - -Then, in the middle of the communications confusion, came a call from -one of Commander Hatch's scout flights. - -"Pilot Logan, Flight Eighteen, to Commander Hatch. Report." - -"Hatch to Logan. Go ahead. Find something, Will?" - -Will Logan said, "Solid target detected on radar, Commander. Approached -and found. I am now within five thousand yards of what appears to be -Lifeship One." - -The entire fleet went silent, except for the detector ship, the scout -craft, and Wilson's flagship. - -Allison asked, "Was that our target, Logan?" - -Logan replied laconically, "Nope. I was on my way back from a gas -cloud--I think--when the radar got a blip." - -In the background, they could hear Allison saying, "There's a real -target out there where Logan went. Haven't you got an infrawave -response out there somewhere--" The mike clicked off. Allison probably -had remembered that he had his thumb on the "Talk" button and removed -it. - - * * * * * - -Captain Warren said to Wilson, "That's a hell of a fine space detector, -isn't it?" - -Wilson nodded absently, picked up his own handset and called, "Logan -from Wilson. How close are you now?" - -"Thousand yards, Commodore. And no doubt about it. Lifeship Number One." - -"You stay on, Logan, and give us a rundown." - -"Yes, sir. Not much to tell, you know. But I'm closing in." - -The scout craft pilot went on and on, mostly filling in with -inconsequential details of how he was closing in, jockeying to parallel -the lifeship's course and speed, and finally making a space approach. - -At last he said, "They're on radio, Commodore Wilson. I'll relay as -I get it. Too bad these crates aren't fixed to patch-cord the short -range radio to the infrawave. I--" Pilot Logan went on to rattle off -the names of the men aboard the lifeship, stopping once to reconfirm a -pronunciation. - -"Where's the pilot, and the other two? Miss Hemingway and Mr. Andrews?" - -"They must be in Lifeship Three," said Logan. "That's a guess. -Er--Commodore Wilson, I'm within a couple of hundred yards of them now -and they're waving out through the astrodome at me. I'm about to toss -out a light bomb. Or has anybody got a radar fix on me?" - -"Better toss out the light bomb. Also radiate radio on the finding -frequency. Hatch!" - -"Hatch here." - -"Hatch, send out a cruiser class thataway and pick 'em up." - -Hatch laughed in a brittle tone. "It's been on its way for six minutes, -Commodore. Half of our job is done!" - -Wilson said, "Good!" and closed his mike. Half of the job was done, but -it was, as far as Ted Wilson was concerned, the lesser half. He wanted -the lifeship that sheltered Alice Hemingway. - -Three hundred ships combing the spaceways with magnetic detectors and -radar and eyesight. One ship combing God-knows-what with a half-cooked -infrawave gizmo in which nobody had any confidence. One-half of the job -done on what was as much a fluke of luck as good management. - -And out there in the awful dark Alice was trapped in a space can with -a happy-go-lucky hulk of a pilot who lacked the drive and ambition to -buck for his own command, no matter how deeply mortgaged, and a small, -wiry ruler of industry who bought what he could not command, and knew -no more about spacing than Aunt Agatha's pet Siamese tomcat. - -Wilson laughed bitterly. A-spacing she had wanted. Now she had it. - -Pictures went through Wilson's mind. A picture of Charles Andrews -comforting Alice by the force of his personal drive, confident that -money could buy anything, including rescue from space. Andrews calming -her fears and--it must be chill in the lifeship by now--bringing her -the animal comfort of warmth, and offering to take care of her. His -wispy arms about her, his bony hands caressing her as he held her head -on his shoulder, his-- - -This picture was replaced by the vision of big indolent collar-ad Pilot -Jock Norton. He would be taking over because he alone in that lifeship -knew what spacing was all about. Mentally, Wilson could see Andrews a -little hysterical because the financier was out of his element, and -Norton taking over completely. Maybe Andrews had succumbed to some -nervous affliction because of the strain. - -Norton would be calming Alice's fears and confidently predicting -rescue, and proposing that they combine the interrelated factors of -the conservation of heat and the passage of time by indulging in -exploratory dalliance. Wilson could even envision Alice, not entirely -convinced that they would ever be rescued, agreeing because she would -be unwilling to die without having reached the pinnacle of emotion. - -That picture was even more distasteful, but it was replaced by another -in which Charles Andrews was making the gesture. Where Norton had youth -and masculine appeal, Andrews had the suave manner and the smooth -experience of his years. Some fast talk and a few vague promises, to -say nothing of some well-calculated suggestions, and Alice would-- - - * * * * * - -Wilson tried to shut that notion out of his mind, but it went on and on -and on. - -And on. - -Only one thing made this series of pictures bearable at all. Thank God -Alice was aboard that lifeship with two men instead of one. Especially -two men who could not help but find one another deficient in something -or other. - -Then the third or fourth vision came. Norton and Andrews might -possibly, due to their precarious position, settle their differences in -basic nature and come to an agreement. - -They might be taking turns! - -Ted Wilson gritted his teeth and tried to get deeply interested in the -search grid. - -It was nine days old.... - -Alice looked up with a startled expression as Jock Norton came through -the ladder hatch into the central cabin of the lifeship. - -"But isn't--ah--aren't you--" She let her voice trail away because she -didn't quite know how to finish. - -He laughed. "I put enough reserve in the tank to take care of the -elderly Napoleon. Look, Alice, I want to talk to you without his guff -on the side." - -"About what?" she asked. "Or shouldn't I ask?" The recent shower and -tubbing of her underclothing had given the girl a feeling of confidence. - -"About me. You. You and I. Us, you know." - -"What can I say?" - -He blurted, "What the hell's wrong with me?" - -"Why, I--" - -"Nuts," he snapped. "I'm not asking you for an explanation." - -"Then why put it that way?" - -"That's the point," he said. "I don't know. Something's all wrong -inside." - -"How?" - -"Napoleon. Andrews. Frankly, I hate his damn guts. I've always hated -the guts of that kind of moneybags. He walks all over everybody, buying -what he can't control. Darned near theft, if you ask me." - -"So?" - -"Aw, hell! The little character has got something. I want to know what." - -"Now it's him?" - -Norton nodded. "Something about Andrews. I don't know. I don't know how -or what or why, but there's something about him." - -Alice eyed the pilot strangely. "Good or bad?" she asked cautiously. - -"Both." - -"Jock Norton," she asked quietly, "you've never had to work hard to get -what you wanted, have you?" - -He stared down at his fingernails. "Maybe that's because I never wanted -anything of real value." - -"Maybe," she agreed. "But what have you wanted?" - -"Damned little out of life," he answered her truthfully. "Fun and -games, mostly." - -"And I suppose they came easy?" - -He nodded. "Being a space pilot has--well, a certain egoboo. You -find yourself invited here and there by people who have never been -any farther out of New York than Hackensack, or maybe no farther out -of Chicago than Evanston." He looked down at his fingernails again. -"There's always women happy to claim they've slept with a man who has -been to Castor, or Pollux, or Polaris, or even Centauri. A man gets his -bed and breakfast and his fun. But--" Abashed, he let it trail off. - -"So what about Mr. Andrews?" she prompted. - -"He's been there, too. But his--well, somehow I think--" - -Alice smiled quietly. "In other words, Mr. Andrews' spacing is only a -means to his own advantage instead of being the end itself?" - -"I guess that's what I mean. Andrews doesn't use spacing as his -business. He uses it to get to his business." - -"That's right." - -"So where do I go from here?" - -"That's your decision." - -"I know. And I wish I knew how to make it." - - * * * * * - -She smiled at him sympathetically. "I wish I could help." - -"Maybe you could." - -She looked at him cryptically. "Not Alice Hemingway. I've got me a man -out there who is combing space for all three of us. You'll have to make -your own life and find your own girl." - -"Suppose he doesn't find us?" he asked bluntly. - -"Then," said Alice soberly, "we have no future to concern us, no -decision to make, and no failure to measure up to or to account for to -anybody." - -"And we'll have died without having really lived?" - -"Most everybody does. Few are content to lie down and get it over -with. One lifetime is not long enough to content one's self. No alert, -willing, intelligent human being can be content with _Thanatopsis_." - -"I don't know it." - -"I don't know it too well, either. Something about, 'When thy summons -comes to join the innumerable caravan that moves, et cetera, like -one who wraps the draperies of his couch about him and lies down to -pleasant dreams.' Or something like that." - -Bluntly he said, "It's nine days." - -From the top of the ladder, Charles Andrews repeated his familiar -refrain, "Nine days at a hundred per hour." - -Norton turned swiftly. "Yeah," he drawled. "But we'll have that -argument later, Andrews. Right now it's time to blast out with a -distress signal again. They've got to know we're still alive, no matter -what else." - -"Okay--okay." - -"So you fire up the infrawave transmitter and I'll pedal the generator, -as before." - -Norton disappeared below. Andrews went to the small panel and sat there -watching the one meter, his hand resting on the one switch. - -"Hell of a note," he grumbled. - -Alice asked, "Why?" - -"Can't send a damned message on this. Only make an identification call." - -"Considering the size of this lifeship, and the fact that an -identification call is all that is really necessary, I can't complain -too much," she told him seriously. "What could you tell them that they -don't know already? Could you urge them to greater haste by the power -of your voice?" - -Andrews actually had been thinking exactly that. Between the checkbook -in his wallet and the pen in his pocket, Andrews had always been able -to wield a lot of power. Men had jumped when he spoke, corporations had -stopped their own programs at his signature. - -His personal account would have covered the purchase of a spacecraft -of the type in which they had cracked up. That he did not own his own -interstellar runabout was a matter of a different economy. It was -cheaper to buy passage as he needed it than it was to own his private -spacer and keep it parked at some space port for his convenience. - -But as Alice taunted him, Andrews could not say, aloud, that he -believed his personal demand would bring help faster than the mere -knowledge that human beings were adrift in space. It would sound as -though he thought himself more important to the Universe than Alice or -Jock Norton. He did think so, of course. But this was no time to insult -his lifeship companions by saying so. - -He eyed the switch distastefully. The meter was climbing up to the red -line that meant that the infrawave transmitter was about ready to be -turned on. Then it would hurl out its coded message. - -In the back of his mind was a hazy recollection of radio code. He -remembered that 'a' was a dot-dash, and that 'n' was a dash-dot. He did -not recall whether 'd' was a dash-dot-dot or a dash-dash-dot, 'r' was -dot-dash-dot and everybody knew that 'e' was a single dot. The letter -'w' baffled him completely but he was sure that 's' was dot-dot-dot. So -the worst he could do would be to flub two of the letters in his name, -making it come out A-N-D?-R-E-something-S. - - * * * * * - -That, he felt, would let the Universe know that he was still out there, -drifting. The ragged codes might even cause them to hasten because they -might believe him to be alone, or without the help of the pilot who -probably knew code well. - -The meter hit the red line. - -Charles Andrews snapped the goggle switch up and down, then -up-pause-down. He waited a second, then made it up-pause-down, then -up-down. He started the 'D' but his faltering hand flipped the second -dot in a jittery fashion. - -Down in the guts of the infrawave transmitter was a code wheel, -supposed to turn completely around for one revolution. Along the -periphery of the wheel was a series of serrations, which in passing a -fast-action switch keyed the output of the simple transmitter, sending -the stylized code. The jittery flipping of the main switch coincided -with one of the serrations on the code wheel so that Andrews turned off -the whole gear just as the transmitter was keyed on. The power normally -used for the energizing section, stored in local capacitor banks, -discharged through the output section. - -It was not spectacular. The meter just flopped back to zero, a fuse -blew, and the cabin was filled with the pungent odor of burned -insulation. - -Below, in the pedal generator saddle, Jock Norton felt the load -bucking, then it went off completely and reflex almost threw the pilot -out of his seat. The pedals pumped with no resistance. He went aloft. - -"What happened?" he asked. - -He sniffed at the air as Andrews pointed to the meter. - -"It shouldn't happen," said Norton. "What made the thing buck, Andrews?" - -Andrews was not the kind of man who hides his errors, at least. He -faced Norton and said, "I was keying the transmitter." - -Norton growled, "Did it ever occur to you that if this gizmo could be -keyed, it would have been made that way in the first place?" - -"No. I assumed that the thing was made to be handled by people not -familiar with code, and that if one knew code one could key it." - -Norton growled again, "Ever think that I know code, and that if it -could have been keyed, I'd have done it before this?" - -"Now that you say it, I suppose you would have. But what do we do now?" - -"We try to repair it," snapped Norton. "Do you want to try it all by -yourself, or will you permit me to help?" - -Alice got between them once more. "Get it fixed first," she said -sensibly. "Then argue about it afterwards." - -Norton nodded, but he was not happy about it. - - - - - VIII - - -It was finished. - -Commodore Theodore Wilson eyed the stereo grid with distaste. The filmy -white haze, marking off the volumes already combed, filled the grid -completely and overlapped the enclosing lines. - -The pattern search had been most thorough. The random search teams had -cut curlicues and looping curves back and forth through the grid. Their -coverage had not been perfect, by far, but it was good enough for a -random search. The volume covered by the infrawave detector spacer was -spotty, but adequate. - -The equipment was still breaking down every five or ten minutes, still -delivering a horde of spurious responses. Scoutships still were being -sent scurrying back and forth to investigate. - -He faced the grid unhappily. He was gaunt from lack of sleep, from -hastily snatched meals, or meals missed completely, from chain smoking, -from watching what had started as a chance to make a good mark turn -into drab failure. Worse, a failure that in no man's mind could be -blamed upon Ted Wilson. For he had found one lifeship, and the fluke -would be forgotten. - -So would his failure. By every man but Wilson. - -Somewhere back in that vast black volume of nothing, outlined by -imperfect mathematical concepts in a larger field of nothing, was a -lifeship, lost. A tiny cold mote of iron twenty-odd feet tall and nine -feet in diameter across its widest point. - -Wilson tried to draw his mind from it, but could not. Hysteria crept in -but was quickly subdued. - -In his mind he saw her as he had last seen her, pert and happy, with -her light spacebag on the floor of the waiting room beside her slender -ankles. He saw her before him, taut with thrill and excitement, vibrant -and alive. He remembered her parting kiss, and the warmth of her body -pressed against him. - -Alice had been filled with anticipation, wanting to share her -excitement with him, but unable to share what was a brand-new -experience to her of going to space with a man who had been a-spacing -for years. A man who knew all too well how space could be boring, -lonely, and incredibly monotonous. - -Not like travel across land, where there is scenery to watch, and -although a tree is a tree, no two trees are ever alike, just as no one -mountain ever looks the same at two o'clock in the morning as it had -four hours earlier at ten in the evening. - -Not even like travel on water, across the broad ocean where the scenery -is water, whipped into waves of some similarity. For no two waves are -ever the same exactly, and there is always the chance of a whitecap or -a surfacing fish. The motion of the waves is incessant, at some times -as soothing to the nerves as a lullaby. - -But space was always the same. Across the galactic reaches covered by -Man so far, there is little change in the aspect of the sky. A nearby -star here or there is misplaced, but by and large the sky looks the -same from Terra as it does from any planet or any star within fifty -light years. - -Move a man from Sol to Sirius, and Canis Major loses a bright star -and changes shape to a degree not noticed by any but a trained -uranographer. Ophiuchus gains another unimportant star that no one -would care much about. - -But then, Alice had been thrilled from the center of her heart to the -flush on her skin with the idea of taking to space at last, so that she -could at least begin to grasp the immensity and the mystery that he had -failed to bring to her through talk. - -Well, Alice Hemingway was getting her young tummy full of space! - -He was still swearing under his breath when the men came in to ask him -what they should do next. - -He eyed them sourly. Manning, Edwards and Wainwright of his own ship. -Hatch, Weston, Allison; then others Wilson knew only by reputation and -name--Morganstern, Cunningham, Wilkes, Thordarson, Moore, Silkowski, -Themes, and Calcaterra. - - * * * * * - -They watched him quietly, knowing what he must be feeling. They wanted -orders, either to continue this fruitless search or to abandon it. But -not one of them wanted to be the first to speak. - -Finally Wilson singled out Toby Manning, the computer. - -"Well?" he snapped. - -Manning shrugged. "Tell me what to do next and I'll do it," he said -defensively. - -Wilson exploded, "You know your job! Suppose you tell us all how -three hundred ships could comb space and miss anything bigger than a -hard-boiled egg." - -Toby Manning started to open his mouth to say something. He was not at -all sure what he should say, not at all sure what was wise to say, but -he knew he was expected to say something. It was as well for Manning -that he felt indecision, for if he had uttered a syllable it would have -been blasted back down his throat. - -"Space search!" roared Wilson angrily. "Integrated maneuvers! We -might as well be a bunch of crying children, lost, and scrambling all -over a department store trying to get ourselves located. Sure I know -there are indeterminates. I know there's always trouble with space -coordinates. Sure, it ain't like plowing a farm where you can follow -the edge of where you've been last. But you, Manning, are supposed to -be a computer, capable of plowing with the Law of Probabilities which, -my math prof once told me, should include the probability that human -beings will make errors and be generally sloppy. You set up the search -grid and proposed the search pattern with what you called a factor of -overlap-safety." - -Wilson turned on Hugh Weston. "And you are supposed to have a bunch -of the finest astrogators in the Universe! You and your collection of -schoolboys, confidently walking behind the stereo and drawing pinpoints -and hairlines to show where we've been! Nuts. You should have used a -ten-inch kalsomine brush." - -He paused for breath as he scorned them with his eyes, then picked -Allison. - -"That fancy doodad of yours, Allison--the famous infrawave detector and -ranger! Did you ever get more than ten minutes of constant operation -out of it?" - -"Once," Allison snapped angrily, his face red and his hands opening and -closing. - -"Fine," sneered Wilson. "Oh, fine. Oh, hell!" - -He looked at them all again. He saw them, this time. - -"All right," he said contritely. "I've been off base. I'm wrong. -Manning, what are the probabilities for error in the grid itself?" - -"Commodore, nothing can be perfect. We had to approximate their -position, we had to guess their speed. But we did put our search area -out beyond the region where their chances ended. If they do lie outside -of the volume of space searched, their position lies under a nine-nines -figure against the computation. I may sound like I'm talking gibberish, -but that's it. No man can make a perfect sampling cross section unless -he samples every item. I would stake my uniform on the probability that -the lifeship lies within the volume outlined on our grid." - -"Yes." Wilson nodded. "Weston, can you add anything? I chewed you out, -too, and now I want to back down and ask your honest opinion." - -Hugh Weston shrugged. "We're far from perfect ourselves," he said -quietly. "I'll put it this way. I gave strict orders to the men in the -marker ships that if there was any remote chance they might drift, they -were to overcompensate. In other words, running a channel through space -back and forth leaves a man lost himself, as to his exact position. -I had men marking the courses. Each run through the grid covered a -cylindrical volume. If there were a chance for any cylindrical coverage -to miss its neighbor, leaving a hole in the grid, my men were to move -in and see to it that these errata were closed. But I repeat, we're not -perfect." - - * * * * * - -Wilson said contritely, "Allison, I owe you the most. You snapped me -out of it. Maybe I owe you the least for bringing that damned gizmo out -here and tying up Hatch's entire fleet of scout craft. But Hatch would -have been sitting quiet anyway, as it turned out. Anything to add?" - -"Nope," said Allison, with a shake of his head. "We know the infrawave -detector is no polished instrument. We're fumbling in the dark. But -there was that possible chance that the detector might have worked -in deep space where it hadn't worked in the interference field of a -planetary system. We hardly know what makes the infrawaves radiate, let -alone how they propagate. But we tried. Just as you tried. We failed." - -"Just as I failed," said Wilson bitterly. - -"Not completely," said Commander Hatch. "We did catch one of them." - -"Batting fifty per cent. One hit and one miss." - -"Stop beating yourself, Wilson." - -"Beating myself? I--" He stopped, then spoke to Manning. "What are -their chances of being in the same general region as that other -lifeship?" - -Manning said to Weston, "You answer that." - -Weston shook his head. "We have no way of knowing whether the rescued -ship left the foundered spacecraft before or after the lost one. Nor at -what celestial angle. Nor at what speed. Okay?" - -Manning nodded, then added to Wilson, "The answer to that, Commodore, -is that the position of the rescued lifeship has no bearing on the lost -one. Just as the turn of heads in a toss has any effect upon the turn -of the next toss." - -Wilson nodded unhappily. "And so we sit here and talk it to death." - -"What more can we do?" - -"We can start over again." - -"Is that an order?" asked Hatch. - -Manning shook his head almost imperceptibly. Wilson caught the faint -objection and said, "Wait a moment. Toby, what have you got in mind?" - -"If we start over again," Manning said soberly, "I'll have to -reconstruct the grid. Because by the time we've covered the grid, -they'll have had time to pass outside of the present realm." - -Wilson thought this over. "Why," he asked generally, "don't we start on -the outside and close in?" - -Manning answered, "Because in starting on the inside we have the best -mathematical chance of finding them. By starting on the outside, -we must cover a vast cylinder, element by element, working in the -direction opposite to theirs. No, that's not the right way to do it, -Commodore." - -"All right. Reconstruct your new grid, Toby. Hugh, get your gang -together and compute the center line of the pattern within a half-inch. -Morganstern, you've got a good crew of advanced techs. Turn 'em all -over to Allison. Allison, pack enough men aboard that cranky crate of -yours so that any part that blows can be replaced within ten seconds. -I want uninterrupted operation, even though the thing only hands us -spurious responses. - -"Hatch, put half of your gang in with the random search team. No use -using all of you to run down gas clouds and meteorites and places where -there should be something the size of a planet but isn't. Yes, we'll -start all over. And this time, Hugh, give us fifty per cent overlap, -and get busy with Toby to compute the new grid on that basis. Can we do -it?" - -They looked at him. Some wearily, who saw him more weary than they. -Some angrily, but Wilson was beyond honest anger himself. Some -anxiously, who knew that Ted Wilson had lost more out in that black -nothingness than a reputation, or a mark on his record. Some looked at -him willingly. They were all with him, tired, angry, expectant, but all -willing. - -Weston growled, "We'll find 'em, damn it." - - * * * * * - -The room rumbled with growls. They were not schoolboys, thrilled with -the adventure or given to demonstration, nor youths driven to the job -of combing the unknown for their commodore's lost love. But they felt -it inside and stifled it in low-voiced growls because they were not -much given to bragging, either. - -And Ted Wilson knew that if the lost lifeship was to be found, his -command would find it. - -Wilson's communications officer came in quietly. He caught his -commodore's eye and motioned Wilson aside. - -"Commodore," he said, "something I'm not quite sure about." - -"Yes?" - -"The hourly infrawave distress call?" - -"Yes, of course. It's time for it." Wilson looked at the man's face -and knew that something was wrong. "It came in, didn't it?" When the -communications officer didn't speak, Wilson cried hoarsely, "It came -in?" - -The com-tech nodded slowly. "It started, but it was sputtering badly. -Then it conked out cold, Commodore. Nothing like I've ever heard -before." - -"Like what?" - -"Well, you know the code wheel runs in standard communications code, -giving the spacecraft license, the lifeship number, and the general -distress call, repeated over and over for three minutes. Well, sir, the -license identification came through all right, but after that the code -got awful garbled and spotty, and then the whole damned transmission -just crapped out, sir. After about a half-minute." - -"Fade?" asked Wilson in a strained voice. - -"Went out like a blown fuse. Big blast, then silence. Nothing." - -Wilson thought for a moment, then looked around. "Anybody have an idea?" - -Allison scratched his head. "You say the code was all right, but then -got spotty?" - -"Yes, sir." - -Allison looked at Manning. Both were involved in science to a high -degree, Allison as an infrawave researcher; Manning as a computer. Both -had studied the mathematics of communication. Manning nodded soberly. - -"You don't suppose they foolishly tried to key the automatic -transmitter?" he asked. "Superimposing a code upon another code would -result in a spotty transmission, since the intermingled transmission -bits would obtain only where both codings delivered a positive -configuration. It might--" - -The communications tech broke in scornfully, "The pilot of the -Seventy-nine was aboard. He'd know. Nobody but a complete imbecile -would try to key an automatic distress transmitter." - -Allison nodded positively. "Can't be it." - -Commander Hatch looked down at his feet. "I was in a space can once," -he said. "They don't last forever. I--" He let his voice trail away. - -Wilson looked into their faces. The cold, bleak fact was so clear in -their faces that he could not ignore it. He was forced to recognize the -fact that a lifeship is no spacecraft. A lifeship is a flimsy tin can, -as spaceworthy as an open raft on the broad ocean, as spaceworthy as an -umbrella in a windstorm. A lifeship was not intended for comfort, or -for travel, or for use. It was aimed at a hope and a prayer that if the -mother spacecraft came a cropper that human lives could be protected -for a time, long enough to give hope of rescue. - -In the faces of the men had been determination. Now the determination -had faded. Left was only sorrow and resignation. - -Wilson had lost. - -Doggedly he said, "We'll loaf it out for the next hour. We'll go on -as though this hadn't happened. We'll prepare for a recoverage of the -grid." - -They all nodded and left, but the step of each had lost its spring, and -voices had lowered to funeral rumbles. Some even whispered. - - * * * * * - -Commodore Wilson swore at the closed door. - -The hour passed with the slow interminable drag of eternity itself. It -was the complete uncertainty of the result, the angering fact that not -a single thing could be done until that hour had passed, and even then -there was a high possibility that nothing could be done at all. So long -as the hourly signal came in, there had been solid knowledge of the -survival of the lost party. - -This had been a sort of haphazard thing. There had been times before -when a lifeship party had missed sending the signal because of fatigue, -and had finally sent their signal late. Suggestions were always -cropping up that the signal be entirely automatic, clock-timed. These -ideas were claimed to be impractical since a timed, automatic signal -only meant that the lifeship itself was still lost in space, and not -that any aboard it were alive. - -A full, two-way infrawave system would have been the answer; if a full -two-way system could have been installed in a lifeship, still leaving -room in the little space can for things essential to the sustenance of -human life. - -Ocean lifecraft are equipped with hooks and lines for catching fish, -with gizmos for making water from the salt ocean drinkable. Air is -free. Waste products are cast overboard. - -In space there are no fish to catch, no salt ocean to purify, no air -but that within the tiny can and its high-pressure air flasks. There is -a supply of water and a small refining plant to distill waste products, -not at all efficient, but adequate for a few days. But the bulk of the -food and water and all of the air necessary to maintain life filled up -a large percentage of the small volume of a lifeship. - -Slowly, that nerve-grinding hour passed, and then it became an hour and -a half. Then it was two hours, then two and a half. Then three hours. - -No signal.... - -Andrews looked askance at Norton. "Nothing we can do?" he asked quietly. - -Norton shook his head: "Nothing I can do," he said helplessly. - -"But there must be something." - -"There probably is," Norton said simply. "If I were a trained com-tech, -I could probably fake something together and make some fudged-up -repair that would at least radiate. But I'm a pilot, so I don't know -all the angles of infrawave equipment. Not even basic theory. I know -enough--with the aid of this repair manual--to replace any part that -might have failed. But beyond that--" - -Andrews shook his head and scratched his nose. "I can't see it," he -said. - -"See what?" - -"I can't see how a man can claim the ability to make a repair on a -complicated thing like this without knowing more than you say you know." - -Norton smiled thinly. "I can replace the plumbing under a sink, too," -he said flatly, "without knowing enough to make me a licensed plumber. -This manual gives full directions, but no reasons. If the voltage at -this terminal is less than thirty-six hundred, then check the voltages -on terminals so-and-so, measure the resistance between terminals -this-and-that with the equipment off, connect terminal A to terminal -B, and check the alternating voltage across Component Two-nineteen. -Depending upon what we find that does not follow the book, we locate -the busted doodad and replace it. But the damned book doesn't bother -to tell you why the voltage across such-and-such terminals should be -thirty-six hundred, or what happens when it isn't. The book was not -written for infrawave engineers. It was written for guys like me who -care more to get a signal on the infrawave bands than we care for the -theory of operation." - -"All right, then. So we blew something. Can't we run it down?" - -"Trouble is that we blew too many things at the same time." - -"Don't understand." - -"Naturally," snapped the pilot. "You know less about this stuff than I -do. This is supposed to be more than thirty-six hundred, providing that -is functioning. But the voltage will go above seven thousand if the -other has come unglued. If you blow both items, together, the voltage -downed by one and upped by the other comes out to about four thousand. -The reading may be all right, but when everything in the damned set -reads wrong, I have to give up." - -"So what do we do now?" - -Norton shrugged. "We hope they don't give up. We keep on working on -this thing. We--Hell, we might as well turn on the receiver and listen." - -"Can we spare the power?" - -Norton looked at the financier. "Might as well," he said. "We might as -well. If they abandon this search because we aren't transmitting, we -might as well waste the power anyway...." - - * * * * * - -Viggon Sarri faced his lieutenants. "From Brein's report," he -announced, "they finished their grid search some three hours ago, -and have been milling around in stacked pattern ever since. Linus -predicts that they have been waiting for a recurrence of the regularly -transmitted signal that should have kept coming but which blew out from -some sort of overload. Within the half-hour, they have reformed their -search pattern and seem inclined to continue, even though it should -appear obvious to them that their friends have lost their ability to -transmit." - -Regin Naylo looked puzzled. "Could it be that they've discovered how to -tell when an infrawave receiver is being used?" - -Faren Twill shook his head, "If they knew that they'd have developed a -more efficient infrawave detector." - -Linus Brein agreed vigorously. - -Viggon Sarri seated himself self-confidently. "Gentlemen, you have -before you a race with dogged determination, the grit and will to go -on, even though they have tasted failure." - -"Right," said Faren Twill. - -"So now I know," said Viggon. "And now we go in!" - -Regin Naylo looked hopeful. "To let 'em have it?" His face fell. "Or to -make friends of them?" - -Faren Twill started to speak, but Viggon silenced him with a wave of -his multiflexed hand as he went on. "We go in prepared for anything. -Naylo, you will, as usual, set up our forces for battle. That means an -all-man alert at all stations. Complete alert, Naylo." - -Naylo nodded. - -"With one exception. No attempt to clear the space charge in the -projectors with a preliminary blast." - -"But look, sir--" - -"You'll issue instructions to your beam officers to set their beams for -the trial blast, but not to clear them." - -"Mightn't that be dangerous?" - -"It might. But the clearing blast can come before we strike--if we have -to strike. I doubt that the wait will be disastrous, Regin. After all, -they seem to have no armaments worthy of the name. And firing a few -thousand megnoid beams, even at test power, cuts up some awful didoes -in space." - -"So?" sneered Naylo. - -"Aside from scaring the armor off of them, it also kills a certain -element I demand. At any rate, those are your orders. You, Faren Twill, -will take charge of the maneuvers, setting up the fleet in battle -formation and instructing each ship captain to be prepared for any -maneuver, however unorthodox. Both of you are to maintain constant -personal contact with me, for my orders may change by the minute. -Linus, you had better clear your logic computer of all problems, but -retain the information we have stored regarding this race. Be prepared -to accept any information that may come from our next act. Understand?" - -They all nodded. - -"All right. Then as soon as each of you is ready for further orders, -report. At that time we are going in!" - - - - - IX - - -Eyes on the speaker grille as if they could force it into life by the -power of their minds and attention, they sat in the little lifeship -cabin in deathly silence. Their utter helplessness was apparent to all -three of them, but their grasp of that fact took different trends. - -Charles Andrews was angry and frightened. Had he been able to transmit -his blocked-off communication he would have roared in anger, cajoled, -threatened, accused the rest of the Universe of incompetency, then -offered large rewards. But perhaps for the first time in his life -Charles Andrews was in the awkward position of having no channel of -communication with those who might do his bidding. Therefore he was as -frightened as a musician who is told he must lose his hands, the use -of which give him his only opportunity to pour out his inner feelings. - -Jock Norton was stunned. Because he had looked upon this affair as a -sort of lark. Others had come through spacewreck safely and he should, -too. Because now he had been forced to realize that this incredible -thing was happening to him. Juggernaut was about to roll over him, and -there was nothing he could do about it. - -A couple of the others who had come through safely had gained some fame -and fortune by writing their memoirs, and taking their short strut upon -the stage of Public Curiosity. But the game had turned bitter, and now -Jock Norton was wondering if it might not be better to get it over with -as quickly and painlessly as possible--except that Jock Norton was -afraid to face death with the same calm, casual attitude with which he -had always faced life. But life had been fun, while death.... Who knew? - -Alice Hemingway was frightened almost into shock. She was holding -fast to a blind hope, the same hope to which many a shipwrecked and -space-wrecked victim has clung when the searching party passes at a -distance and goes on, and the mind keeps crying that surely someone -will turn and see. And screams become hoarse because all reason and -logic have fled, and there is no way for the mind to realize that no -voice could be heard across the thunder of waves or across the gulf of -space. - -Alice also had blind faith in her lover. He could not fail; he would -not permit himself to fail. She would not face the possibility that -though Ted Wilson would do his best, that his fine crew, and the -equally fine crews of the other commanders would do their best, that -best was not enough. - -So far, no one had mentioned the fact that Charles Andrews had wrecked -their code transmitter. One does not kick a dog for ignorance, nor -lay blame for technical incompetence upon a financier. An error is an -error, and the other two victims knew that Andrews felt the weight of -the error he had made as heavily as they did. But there it was, and -sooner or later it would probably break through, and come out stark and -vital. - -Then the infrawave receiver chattered into life. - -"All right," said the voice of Commodore Wilson. "We have our plans. -We'll assume that they've had a technical breakdown and cannot -transmit. But until we find that lost lifeship, and the three of them -in it, dead or alive, we'll keep on combing space! Are you with me?" - -The infrawave yammered with a chorus of affirmatives. - -Andrews took a deep breath. - -Norton relaxed and lit a cigarette. - -Alice looked around the cabin wildly and cried, "Ted--Ted! You can't -fail us now!" - -They sat there in their little lifeship cabin, cold and frightened, and -they listened to the chatter going on across space from ship to ship -and an occasional call to Base. Hope waxed and waned; they were as lost -as any human being has ever been lost. - -Yet somewhere out there men were searching for them. They could be -light years distant; they might even be going in the other direction. -But it could be just the minute after the next when a wild happy yell -would burst from the infrawave receiver to inform the known Universe -that the lost had been found! - -And so they waited--and hoped.... - - * * * * * - -Commander Hatch, tired of inactivity, was loafing along out deep in -space on the trail of a clustered group of the infrawave detector's -improbable findings. But this time it was not a spurious response he -got. - -He flicked past Viggon Sarri's flagship at no more than a half-mile -distance and blinked at what he saw, hoping to scan it more closely -on the image that his eye retained. The big flagship had come out of -the black in a flash and a fluid line of sparkling lights, had blasted -into size, and had been behind him in another flick. It left only that -flowing image on Hatch's retina, but that was enough. - -"That," he said aloud in his one-man ship, "was a spacecraft! And -_big_!" - -Hatch flipped his flitter end for end and set the blast. It brought him -to a slowdown by the time he came abreast of the second wave of Viggon -Sarri's space force. - -To one side was a monster, sleek and dangerous-looking, its turrets -flat and ugly-snouted. Above him was another, more distant, but no less -angry-looking. Before him was a fighter carrier, its skeleton deckworks -crammed with fleet hornets of space, their stinger fixed forward, -looking out of the carrier at every angle. - -Small, ineffective drive flares indicated that their crews were alert, -though idling, and that their working guts were hot and ready to arrow -into space. Before him was another of the vast battle wagons, its -projector snouts uncovered. One of the turrets made a swift turn, a -lift of the projectors, a lowering and complete swivel. Then another -started the warm-up maneuver. - -Hatch's scoutcraft passed on. On through the front line of -ultra-heavies to the lighter, faster classes of spacecraft behind the -front array. Jaw slack, he pressed his eyes against the binocular -scope, straining to see the flat-extent of each formation. But they -faded off into the depths of space and he could not see the end of them. - -He passed another carrier and watched the first flight of fighters whip -out from the skeleton deck in a flat circle, to turn upward along the -axis of the carrier and disappear forward toward the spearhead of the -force. They looped around after awhile and came back to the carrier -after their test flight. - -Everywhere Hatch saw the ugly snouts of projectors lifting and turning -in their turrets. - -He broke out in a cold sweat. Hatch was as frightened a man as ever -existed. - -He was a commander in the Space Force, a body trained for combat. But -the Space Force, for obvious reasons, was not trained in combat. Aside -from having to contend with an attempt at space piracy, some more -frequent attempts at barratry, theft, and other forms of skullduggery, -and very frequent smuggling, the Space Force was not armed against -opposition. - -They had their arms, and their ships were efficient. But for the lack -of an active enemy, the Space Force was not a pampered service, handed -money for the development of heavy space ordnance. There had always -been the unexpected "Maybe, some day," but to date no one had ever come -up with any proof that Humankind did not represent the only sentient -animal in the aggregation of Galaxies. - -So Hatch, trained to run down fragmentary piracies and an occasional -run-in with some spaceman whose operations exuded an odor into space, -was no more trained to space combat than any of his fellows. He had -exercises, but had never heard a shot fired in wartime anger. - -So Hatch sweated it out. - -He flipped off his drive so that he would not be seen. His hand -trembled, halfway to the microphone of his infrawave. He stopped it, -lest he be heard. - -Flipping off his drive was good for another reason too, he told his -quaking mind. It also kept up his speed instead of decelerating to -a dead stop in the middle of this incomprehensible, magnificent, -dangerous-looking fleet of space battle-craft. - -Personal safety, and the hope of-- - - * * * * * - -Hatch laughed at himself sourly. He was in space, not hiding behind a -tree on a battlefield-to-be. He was floating out there in the openest -open that had ever been opened, where it was definitely true that if he -could see them, they could see him. Trying to hide in the middle of -that task force was like a man as masculine as he was, trying to troll -unnoticed through a mass meeting of the Gamma Upsilon Mu--better known -as the "Get Your Man" sorority. - -Besides, other men were back there in space that must be warned. -Probably he had already been noticed, and zeroed-in from a few of the -smaller projectors in that task force. They would hardly let him pass -through the fleet and go free. They might not blow him out of space -until the last moment, to preserve their element of surprise. But the -men back there-- - -He reached for the microphone, took a deep breath, and offered up -a brief prayer to get his lines through before the blast came. And -that the blast be a quick and merciful blackout instead of a slow and -painful matter of dying all alone, deep in space.... - -Wilson was striding up and down the stereo room when the loud-speaker -on the wall bellowed into a strained roar: - -"Commander Hatch to Commodore Wilson on emergency priority!" - -The entire personnel of the plotting room froze solid. - -"Wilson! I've just contacted a fleet of warcraft, big ships with -nasty-looking projector sort of things looking out of mobile turrets. -There are big ones! Bigger than anything we've ever built, and -skeletonlike things that have open decks loaded with one-man fighters. -They're--".... - -Viggon Sarri said crisply, "Get him! Alive!" - -Regin Naylo barked crisp orders, and some of the ships took off to -surround the small Earth scout craft. One of the big cruiser class -swerved over and hurled out a blanketing infrawave that quietly clamped -down on space and shut off Hatch's transmission as abruptly as cutting -the wires on a telephone line. Except that there was not even a -click.... - -Wilson grabbed a phone and barked, "Froman! You're Hatch's second. -Scout that! And report constantly!" - -"Affirm, Commodore!" - -Wilson called Admiral Stone. "Trouble, Admiral," he snapped curtly. -"We've contacted what appears to be a war fleet in space." - -Admiral Stone was dumbfounded. Like many others, he realized that the -mathematical probabilities of there being another sentient race in -the Galaxy was almost a certainty, that considering the billions of -stars, the figures read to the tune of probably some twenty thousand -such planetary races, even taking the probabilities in a pessimistic -quantity. - -But twenty thousand sentient races sprinkled across a volume of space -with the infinity of the Galaxy gave each and every one of them a -lot of room. Their making contact with one another was slightly less -probable than the close passage of two stars. - -Then the men of Earth waited again. - -They realized that nothing is ever done right in a hurry. Light leagues -of space separated the human forces from the alien. Light years had -to be crossed. As time passed, everybody sat tense, each with his own -personal thoughts. - -An alien race? Certainly everybody expected that Humankind would some -day meet up with some stellar race distant and remote and probably as -exotic-looking as anything that the most lurid magazines had ever used -on their covers. Or possibly they would be human-looking. Each man had -his own ideas, and no two were exactly alike. The aliens would come as -friends. They would be met as friends. They would come as superiors to -help them to reach Utopia, or come as masters to make them slaves. They -were humanivorous--or they were good to eat themselves. And what might -happen to an intelligent filet mignon? - -And so the time passed slowly until Hatch's second, Major Spaceman -Froman, and his scouts made contact. - - * * * * * - -They were wide spread as they came against that space lattice of Viggon -Sarri's first wave. Their reports were sketchy and incomplete, because -they had been ordered to make contact, to observe, and to swoop back. -In snatches they described the fleet: - -"Thousand feet long--" - -"Five hundred in diameter--" - -"Twelve turrets--" - -"With four projectors each." - -"Two forward and--" - -"Two at spread behind." - -"Carriers--" - -"Why haven't we got carriers?" - -"Fighters with fixed--" - -"Hundreds of them!" - -Stone heard, and digested the ramble of information. He heard things -described that he could not believe, and things that he had to accept. - -"Wilson!" he barked. "Retreat! Retire." - -"But look, Admiral--" - -Admiral Stone took a deep breath and fought his dazzled mind into a -semblance of order. - -"Commodore Wilson," he snapped crisply, "official orders. You are to -abandon this search. At once." - -"But do you realize--" - -"Stop it, Commodore Wilson!! I am well aware of the fact that there -are three human lives at stake. But under these circumstances I cannot -permit three thousand lives to remain in jeopardy on the scant chance -that three may be saved. You are ordered to abandon the search and -return to base." - -"Admiral, I--" - -"I sit here arguing with you, Wilson, because I don't want to take -punitive measures. But please understand that you are facing a battle -fleet of unknown strength and unknown fire power, both factors of which -must certainly be greater than any power or number we can put in the -field. You cannot face them, Wilson! Your space rifles are stowed and -your ammunition holds are empty. Your torpedo bays are stocked with -a few scattered practice missiles with smoke-flare warheads. Your -fire-control equipment needs overhaul and adjustment, and your lockers -are not checked out for battle maneuver. For the safety of your men, -Wilson, and for the safety of your home, you must stop this senseless -argument and obey your orders!" - -"Sorry, Admiral, I--" - -"This is mutiny!" - -"I guess it is, but I am going to find--" - -"You will transfer your command to Mr. Manning, who will take the -temporary rank of Commodore Executive. You will consider yourself under -arrest without confinement to quarters, and you will present yourself -to my office upon your return." - -"I will do nothing of the sort!" - -"Then I must take punitive measures.... Attention, all squadron -commanders and officers above the technical grade! Commodore Theodore -Wilson is relieved of command, and you are to proceed on your own -flight plans to your individual bases. This is by order of my office. I -am Admiral Stone." - -Toby Manning came in, and behind him were Edwards and Wainright. Wilson -faced them angrily. "Well?" he snapped. - -Manning looked uncomfortable, but said nothing. - -"By Regs," said Wilson slowly, "I am still in the command of this -squadron." - -Toby Manning nodded slowly. - -"I am refusing to obey orders. I am _not_ placing my squadron in your -command, Mr. Manning. Understand?" - -Toby smiled crookedly. "I understand. You are accepting all -responsibility, and you are telling me that if I do not follow your -orders, I am disobeying a senior officer." - -"Precisely." - -Wainright said, "But look here, Ted, isn't that--" - -Wilson's laugh was brittle. In it was no humor at all. "That is -precisely right. Even though I am disobeying my senior officer, Mr. -Manning will be disobeying his senior officer if he does not follow my -orders." - -"But isn't Admiral Stone senior to all of us?" - -"Yes. But he is a distant senior to you. I am your immediate superior. -And now, damn it, stop making like a space lawyer and let's start -hunting!" - -Wainright nodded, but as he turned to leave he was muttering: - -"Wish we had more than the steak knives in the wardroom to fight with!" - - - - - X - - -Vacantly the three survivors of spacewreck, in the lost lifeship, -stared at the grille of the infrawave receiver in the deadly silence -that followed Admiral Stone's last transmission. This was the end of -message, end of hope, end of them. - -Jock Norton's toneless voice gritted, "That about rips it wide, doesn't -it?" - -Alice Hemingway's voice came out, weak and thin. "Ted--you tried. Now -you'll--" - -Andrews stood up quickly, and strode across the floor shakily. He faced -the infrawave receiver with a mad glitter in his eye, and he roared: - -"Damn you, come back! Damn you, come back!" - -Over and over he roared the inane words, and as he roared, his anger -and madness increased until he was beating a fist on the cabinet in a -violent rage. - -The infrawave said crisply, "Flight Squadron Nineteen in flight pattern -for Procyon Four." - -"No!" screamed Andrews. - -"--time," continued the infrawave. - -"No!" screamed Andrews again, beating the cabinet with both fists now. - -"Ten!" said the infrawave, and Andrews came down on the cabinet with -all of his wiry strength. - -"Nine!" The beat became a rhythm with the call. - -"Eight!" Another hard slam left blood marks on the metal. - -"Seven!" The cabinet bent inward. A shower of glass fell from the -tuning indicator. - -"Six! Almost lost in a solid thunk. - -"Five!" And after the blow something spluttered in the speaker's throat. - -"Four!" Knobs bent, and Andrews' blood drooled along the cabinet front -toward the deck. - -"Three--" With a fizzling sound the infrawave died, and said no more. - -Insanely the man beat upon the bent cabinet in the same rhythm although -the sound had died. He beat and he beat until the stun and shock had -been wiped out of Jock Norton's face. He came over and hauled Andrews -from the cabinet. The financier struggled, but it was futile against -Jock's size and strength and youth and stamina. - -The pilot trapped Andrews' flailing arms and held him immobile until -rage, madness and hysteria had passed. Andrews lay silent, his face -blank, his breathing shallow. - -Norton looked at Alice. "Stroke?" he asked worriedly. "Has he got a bad -heart?" - -Alice looked up, the semi-blankness fading from her face. "I--don't -know. Is he--" - -"He's passed out or burned out, or worked himself into a faint." - -Alice brought a blanket as Norton lifted Andrews to one of the bunks. -"Jock?" she asked. - -"Yes?" - -"What does this mean? Enemy ships and all that?" - -"It ain't good, baby. From somewhere has come the inevitable -transgalactic culture, only with guns instead of gifts." - -"But it isn't like us to run." - -He nodded soberly. "Yes, it is," he told her positively. "The first man -lived to start the human race by knowing when to run like hell. He ran -until he could pick up a handy rock to throw. That's what our men have -done. Run home to get our rocks." - -Alice looked wistful. "And Ted?" - -Jock shrugged. "I wouldn't know," he said. "He'll probably get busted a -few grades for insubordination. They took his command away. That's one -way of preventing full insubordination from an officer who might have a -lot of public sentiment on his side, or good high-rank material in him. -They take away his command _before_ he disobeys, slap him down a few -steps for trying, and let him sweat it out." - -"I'm glad," she said simply and her voice was calm. - - * * * * * - -Norton looked at her strangely. - -She caught his look and smiled, almost serenely. - -"It would be a shame," she said, "for Ted to have to lose his rank and -his prestige and his honor, and maybe his life and the lives of all -his men, by doggedly staying out here in the face of an enemy fleet, -against orders." - -Norton nodded dubiously. "I suppose so," he said. "But do you know -where that leaves _us_?" - -"Yes," she said, "I know." - -Tears welled up in her eyes, and she leaned forward to find strength in -his arms, and a rest for her weary head on his shoulder. He held her, -gently stroking her hair with one hand and pressing her against him. - -She stopped sobbing after awhile, and looked up at him. Murmuring -softly, he leaned down and kissed her eyes. She clutched at him and -swayed in his arms. He found her lips then, but there was no fire in -them. - -Nor was he surprised. For there was no fire in his own, either.... - -Viggon Sarri gloated, "Ver-ry interesting. Ver-ry." - -Faren Twill shrugged. "Just what else did you expect?" - -Regin Naylo scowled. "We had 'em in your lap," he complained. "And -nobody gave the order to fire. We could have chased 'em inch by inch, -but all we did was to hang here in space and scare the hull plates off -of them and let 'em run like rabbits." - -Viggon smiled. "Exactly. I expected one of two things. They could have -swarmed into us senselessly, suicidally, to take whatever toll they -could take before they lost. That's why we had the projectors alerted -and the fighters hot. I don't even open an ant hill without protection, -gentlemen. So they did the other thing." - -"Sure," growled Regin Naylo. "They could either stay or run. Since they -didn't stay, they--" - -"Stop being smart," snapped Viggon Sarri. "Or weren't you listening?" - -"Yes, I was." - -"Then you should realize that what they were doing was behaving -sensibly. Just what would you do, Naylo, if you were wandering through -a woods unarmed and a large, unknown, and completely unexpected beast -leaped out on your path?" - -Naylo sneered. "I'd run." - -"Then what?" - -Naylo's eyes widened. He said at last, "I'd run until I got where I -could get armed, then I'd probably go back hunting the beast." - -"Exactly. But not too good an analogy, which is my fault. They did -not run in abject terror. They sent scouts to spy us and report our -strength as best they could. Then they retreated. There's a difference. -They _reported_ home, but _retreated_ to their base or bases, because -they knew that they could do no good by hurling themselves on us." - -"They want to arm themselves?" - -"Precisely." - -"And what do we do now?" - -"I think we had best question the one we picked up." - -Linus Brein shook his head. "Not that one," he said. - -"Why not?" - -"When we pried open his scoutcraft, he came out a-fighting and he -fought until we had to take him over. He clipped several of our boys, -and I'm afraid we got a little rough. Our fighting men can get hard, -you know." - -"Dead?" demanded Viggon. - -"No. But he'll be in no condition for an extensive questioning for some -time." - -"Damn! Well, the next best thing to do is to collect the lifeship. We -know what we wanted to know about their mass reaction. Now we must -learn about their individual reaction to an awkward and dangerous -situation." - -Faren Twill picked up the microphone and ordered a flight of light -destroyers into action.... - - * * * * * - -Wilson sat in the dome room of the detector ship and cursed. The lights -were still flickering across the presentation surface, flecks and -streaks of spurious response. But with space cleared of the horde of -searching spacecraft, the flickings and the streakings had diminished, -although that cluster of spots still held its position. - -Wilson said to Allison, "Seems to me we could have volunteered to stay -out here and keep watch." - -Allison was shaking his head when the dome went black again. "They -wouldn't believe you," he said. - -One of the techs readjusted something and the presentation returned. - -"It's a damned funny business, this Space Service," said Wilson. "Any -service, I guess." - -"How so?" asked Manning. - -"If I give a wrong order and you disobey, to keep from piling up, you -get clipped for it. If you don't refuse to carry out the order and we -pile up, I get busted--if any of us come back whole." - -"I wonder if _they_ have that trouble, too," Wainright said musingly, -looking up at the cluster of dots that represented the enemy fleet. - -"Probably. I hope so." - -Edwards shook his head. "I'd rather fight an enemy that had no -iron-bound discipline. Let 'em run wild, taking their own ideas as they -come. Let 'em argue with the skipper. Let 'em quit if their commander -doesn't play their way. That's the difference between a mob and a -service, Ted." - -Wilson grinned. "Call it confusion then!" he said, with a wave at the -dome. "And I hope they have it!" - -As they watched, a group of dots moved from the group and started away, -slowly, at an angle. They watched until the dots had progressed a few -feet from the main cluster. - -Ted Wilson eyed them intently. "There must be some reason.... Allison!" - -"Yes?" - -"See if you can project an imaginary line across that damn dome! I'll -bet that our lifecraft lies somewhere along the course!" - -Allison yelled, "Jones! Halligan!" - -The dome blacked out with a puff of smoke from one bay. A tech groped -deep in one of the open panels and went to work with long-handled -tools. Someone called above the hubbub that they'd have it back in -shape in a minute. - -Wilson mumbled, "Sixteen thousand delicate infrawave parts, and a -half-million electronics components, all balanced on the pinpoint of a -page of equations rolled into a dunce's cap! And I have to live with -it!" - -Allison grumbled, "Hell, nothing is perfect the first time." - -"All right, forget it." Wilson shrugged, as the dome flickered on again. - -It made a flowing, over-and-over turn. Then the presentation spun -around some one of its personal axes of no particular coordinate, -like a planetarium being operated by a putterer who wants to see what -happens when he pushes any button at random. - -It settled down. - -Jones and Halligan set up their sighting devices in the center of the -big floor and began to project their line across the dome. - -One of the techs came running up to Allison. "If we change the driver -response threshold by seven ultrachronic levels--" - -"Go away, Magill. Maybe tomorrow." - -"But look--" - -"You look. I said--" - -A white-yellow circle appeared on the dome with a red line cross on it -like a telescope reticule. Halligan was aiming a flashlight pointer at -the dome and talking into the floor mike at the same time. - -"Hey, Allison! Maybe that's it?" - - * * * * * - -In the circle was a pinpoint that came and went. It danced now and -then, and it sloughed into flowing shapes as it merged with the -rest of the flickering on the dome. It would have been lost in the -ever-changing light pattern of the dome if there had been no reason -to suspect it. The spot lay on a dead line across the dome from the -course of the other spots. - -"All right," Wilson said grimly. "We've got no more scouts to go look. -Turn this crate head-on for that trace and we'll barrel!" - -Slowly the presentation in the dome shifted. The almost lost spot rose -until it was dead above. - -"Pour on the coal!" yelled Wilson. "We've got to get there first!" He -grabbed for the infrawave phone and cried, "Hello, out there! Lifeship -Three, we've sighted you! We'll be with you in--" He glanced at -Allison. "How far are they?" - -Allison shook his head. "That's one of the limitations. We can detect, -and display in solid angle azimuth, but we haven't got to the ranging -yet." - -Wilson said a few words that should never have gone out over the -infrawave. Then he said into the phone, "Well, we've sighted you, -anyway, and we'll be with you soon." And to Manning he said, "I hope to -God they've got their receiver on...." - -Linus Brein said, "I didn't catch part of that. New words for the -files, I guess." - -Viggon Sarri said, "Probably a few words of condemnation over the fact -that their detector doesn't range." - -"I'll catalogue them so." - -"Do that. Maybe we can ask their specific meaning at some later date. -But I'd not be inclined to bark those words at one of them to see what -happens. It might happen. Linus, how do we stand with them?" - -Linus consulted a chart. "They're a little closer to the life ship than -we are. But we're faster." - -"Faren, can't we get any more speed?" - -Faren Twill shrugged. "We've a destroyer escort," he said. "If we don't -mind leaving the destroyers behind." - -"Pour it on," said Viggon Sarri sharply. "Then have the destroyers fan -out in an intercept pattern just in case...." - -"Cold," said Alice in a thin voice. - -But it was not really cold; it was the giving up of all hope, the -turning off of all will to live, that made her cold. - -Norton cradled her in his arms and thought of how this would have been -if they had been snug and warm a-planet, instead of lost and alone -in space. Her slender body against him did not bring passion, but -compassion. He stroked her head and tried to warm her shivering body. - -Andrews still lay in a coma. - -Jock Norton looked over Alice's shoulder at a wall cabinet. In that -cabinet were some capsules that would bring a merciful end before -the real suffering began. Andrews probably wouldn't need one. But -maybe--maybe-- - -Slowly, as if doing something against his will, Norton disentangled -Alice's arms. Gently, lest she stir and cry out in fear, he broke her -hold on him and stroked her arms for a moment. He slipped his own arm -out from beneath her neck and held her with his other arm for a second -or two. - -She was moaning faintly, staring at the ceiling and not really aware of -what he was doing. He slipped off the bunk and walked across the room -unsteadily. - -Slowly he went, for the idea in his mind was against his determination. -He cursed the ruined transmitter, and snarled under his breath at the -broken receiver. Then he fiddled with the catch of the cabinet, his -fingers obeying his subconscious, instead of his not too firm will. - - * * * * * - -He took two capsules from the bottle and went back to Alice with them -in his hand. He had reached, was standing beside her, when he looked at -his closed fist and decided to wait it out one more minute before he -popped one into her mouth and took the other one himself. - -For life, as poor and precarious as it was at this moment, and as -likely as it was to get worse, was still better than taking that long, -unknown and unpredictable step into the Long Dark. - -His minute passed all too quickly. - -Alice shuddered and pressed against him. "Ted," she pleaded weakly. -"Ted--hold me." - -"Yes, darling," he said softly. There was no point in hurting her any -more. Let her think he was Ted, if that was the way she wanted it. - -Andrews stirred, and groaned. - -Norton looked at him, frowning thoughtfully. Maybe Andrews should have -his easy out, too. It would be tough on the guy to come to, and find -himself the only live one in the ship, and of course not know where to -find the remedy. - -The pilot decided to stall for another minute. He'd get another capsule -and slip it to Andrews. Then he would hold Alice once more and keep her -happy, thinking he was Ted. - -"One moment more, honey," he breathed into her ear, then kissed it -gently. "I've got to get you something." - -"Hurry," she murmured. - -Hurry? Yeah! Get it over with! - -The trip across to the cabinet was longer this time, for the idea was -still rubbing him the wrong way. - -"Aw, hell!" he grunted, as he reached for the bottle again. - - - - - XI - - -As Commodore Theodore Wilson eyed the infrawave detector presentation -on the dome of the detector ship, he groaned. The presentation of -targets was stronger now. At the apex of the dome was the lifeship, its -response waxing and waning, but always strong enough to stay visible -even at its lowest ebb. - -Some forty or fifty degrees down the hemisphere was the stronger -response of the enemy warcraft, hanging motionless in the dome. The -group of spacecraft that had come with it were dispersed in some -complicated pattern. Most of these were lost in the tricky shift of -the spurious lighting of the dome. Others had disappeared completely -because they were out of range. - -"Pilot!" cried Wilson. "Can't we pour on more power?" - -The pilot rapped his levers with the heel of his hand and shook his -head slowly. "Sorry, sir. We've been at the top of the military -emergency range all along." Occasionally he looked back over his -shoulder at the motionless enemy response in the dome. - -No man in the detector room needed a fancy ranging detector and a -computer to know the worst. The infrawave would not range, but it was -good enough for this. The inefficient detector and knowledge of one of -the simpler facts of navigation told the whole unhappy story. - -When the angular position of a distant object remains constant to the -observer in a moving vehicle, they are on collision course. And so -long as that observed angle does not change, they will remain on that -collision course, right up to the bump. Distance, or angle of attack -does not contribute or detract. The fact remains. - -The object may be stationary, or the observer may be stationary and -the object moving, or both may be moving, but so long as that angle -remains constant, they will collide. One may be curving and the other -in acceleration or deceleration, but if the observed angle does not -change, it's still collision. - -In fact, there are only a couple of exceptions to this. One is when the -subject object is astern and moving dead away _from_ a collision, or -what might have been one before either ship moved onto the course. The -other is when a circle is cut with the object at dead center. Make it a -spiral and you have your course of danger. - -Put it in space, or on the sea, or in the air, or across the land, and -the same holds true. - -So the fact that the enemy warcraft hung at some forty or fifty degrees -and did not change its position meant that the detector ship and the -enemy warcraft were going to meet! And undoubtedly at the point where -the lifeship would be in the middle because the enemy was obviously -heading for that spot. When they hit, the enemy warcraft would come -through the detector dome exactly where its response now registered. - -"Can't we stretch something?" demanded Wilson. - -Manning thought about it. "We'll bust something if we--" - -"Then bust something!" barked Wilson. - -Manning and Wainright took off below, while Ted watched the spot over -his head. He tried to guess whether he was closer to the lifeship than -the enemy, or whether it was the other way around. Not that it made any -difference to the chase, but it did mean that he or the enemy was the -faster of the two. - -Wilson put his chips on the enemy. But until he had two sides of range -to his included angle of forty-odd degrees, no one could tell. - -Then the spot moved down a bare trifle, faltered, and continued to flow -slowly back toward the rim of the dome. - -Wilson gave a howl of victory just as the infrawave detector conked -out again. The crew scurried madly to repair the fault. He was still -looking glumly at the blank dome when the infrawave phone rang beside -him. - -"Wilson!" he barked in it angrily. - -"Wilson, I'm pleading with you to use some common sense." - -"Admiral Stone, I've located them! We're on our way to get them and -nothing anybody says will--" - -"Still disobeying orders? Still mutiny?" - -"My Good God, Admiral Stone! You wouldn't want me to abandon this -search now that we've located them?" - -"Wilson, you're out there with a crew of our top-flight infrawave -engineers, physicists, and theorists, along with about eight billion -dollars' worth of experimental gear. You're flying that responsibility -into the teeth of an enemy." - -"Admiral, I'm taking a calculated risk." - -"If you manage to get back," snapped the admiral angrily, "you'll.... -Oh, hell! It'll be better for you if you don't, that's all." - -The detector dome came on again, and at the same time came the first -faint failing whimper of a response from the reliable magnetic mass -detectors. Wilson eyed the small celestial globe, saw that its -angle-attack was that of the lifeship, and shouted into the phone: - -"Admiral, we've got 'em on the magnetics! I'll be seein' you later." - -He hung up the telephone on the admiral's shout of dismay.... - - * * * * * - -Viggon Sarri snarled something to Regin Naylo and the second officer -went below to snarl something at the engineering crew. They went to -work shorting out the safeties and cutting out paths of attenuation. - -Viggon Sarri read the detector with a set face and said, "Linus, we're -barely keeping pace. Losing, if anything." - -Linus Brein said, "You've got a half dozen one-man fighters aboard." - -"They're no faster than.... Wait a minute! We can blow 'em out the -forward catapult and add the catapult speed to the ship's speed." - -The flagship became a flurry of action. Men hauled the fighters aloft -and one by one they were hurled out of the launching tube. They kept -their added velocity and slowly, yard by creeping yard, the fighters -drew away from the mother space craft. But yard by crawling yard would -be enough by the time the whole distance was covered.... - -Wilson said to Maury Allison, "You've got a tender ready?" - -"Yes." - -"All right, then. Let's plan this operation carefully. As I see it, -we're going to have a split-second advantage, and we've got to make -good use of it." - -Allison eyed the dials on the magnetic-mass detector, and made some -calibrating adjustments. - -"From what I can tell," he said, "the lifeship is in free flight along -a course not more than ten to fifteen degrees angle from our own free -flight course. We've been in a slight-vector thrust, you know." - -Wilson nodded. "That's all to our advantage. Now unless I've -miscalculated, I think I can be belted out of here in your tender. I'll -make contact, then continue on until you catch up with me. Right?" - -"Sounds reasonable." - -Allison gave some orders to one of his techs. The tech punched his keys -for a half-minute and waited another ten seconds for a strip of paper -to come out of the machine in jerky sequences. He tore the paper off -when it had stopped, and handed it to Wilson. - -"Here," he explained, "are a group of possible time-versus-velocity -courses. Follow 'em exactly and we'll make space contact on the other -side." - -Wilson looked at Allison. "Wish me luck," he said. - -Allison nodded. "You've got it," he said quietly. "You know we're for -you, or we'd not be here." - -"If I don't come back--" - -Allison's face drew taut. "If you flop out there," he said solemnly, -"Toby Manning is next in command, and he'll be forced to follow orders -from Base. So don't flop, Ted." - -"I won't," promised Wilson. - -He fired up the tender, waited until everything was running hot and -ready, and blasted himself out of the exit port forward. He set -his magnetic detector and patch-corded it to the drive so that the -warp-generator would close down and the drive would cease at the proper -instant for deceleration in close proximity of the lifeship. - -Although the long-range search radar was completely useless at -velocities even approaching the speed of light, Wilson turned it on -and checked it out in readiness. He patch-ordered it also to the basic -space drive, to take over after the velocity of his ship fell below the -speed at which radar became useful. - -Then he waited, with one eye on the timer. The detector ship faded -behind him and was lost as his lighter spacecraft responded to the -drive. - -He wished helplessly for an auto-timer drive, because he knew that his -hand and eye were not accurate enough to do the job as smoothly as -he'd have liked. He wanted a bigger ship with a monster-sized drive. -One of those spaceport luggers that can hump spacers from berth to -berth would have been fine, even though they carried insufficient -storage power for anything more than close to Base operations. -He wondered whether such a ship would be too massive for fast -maneuverability, and decided to ask about that, some day. - - * * * * * - -The hundredth-second sweep hand of his watch came around and up, and -he began matching its motion with a rhythmic beat of his hand on the -reversal lever as the hand crossed the tenth-second marks. By the time -the hand was swinging close to the zero-second, his beat was close to -perfect. - -The hand crossed the top and Wilson beat down on the lever hard! - -The ship swung around in space and the drive flared out on the -forecourse as the tender began to beat its terrific velocity down. -Wilson felt that peculiar prickling of the skin that comes with a -swiftly closing warp-generator, but he knew that it was deliberate, and -not a failure. - -He tried to force it down faster; tried to make the driver harder. His -hand rapped the power lever again and again, ramming it against its -hard stop as if he could force the setting higher than maximum. - -There would be particular hell to pay when he got back home, but -he would have the personal satisfaction of having accomplished his -mission. He put the future out of his mind because he had no idea of -what kind of special hell would be given to a man who was successful, -because of disobeying orders. - -He watched the meter crawl down to the red mark and below. Then the -warp-generator collapsed with a jar. It was a little too soon. The -speed of the tender was still high--not above light, of course, but -high enough so that its Einstein Mass created quite a warp in space. - -He felt the heat leap high and knew that the tender had slowed with -the same sort of deceleration as a bullet hitting a patch of thin wool. -He did not lurch in the ship for he, himself, had the same Einstein -Mass effect. He felt a hot-sweat fever fill him as the excess mass -reconverted into energy. - -He shook it off, but knew that eventually he would pay for that sudden -fever, with its biological effects. Then the long-range search radar -produced a distant response and Ted Wilson put everything out of his -mind except the problem of matching velocities with the free-flying -lifeship. - -He called on the close-range radio, frantically pleading for those in -the lifeship to alert and be ready. He got no answer, which made him -break out in a cold sweat. - -The radar picked up the flight of Viggon Sarri's one-man fighters, and -Wilson looked out of the dome to see if they were within sight. - -They were, of course, too distant to be visible, but in the radar they -were closing fast, converging upon the lifeship from a fairly tight -solid angle. He clenched his fists and made a fast calculation. So far, -he was ahead. - -One of the course plots gave him a full twenty seconds at the lifeship. -Anxiously Wilson tried to urge his ship on, even though he knew very -well that the equations of time and velocity and distance provided only -a single solution that could be considered at all practical. - -When he caught visual sight of the lifeship, he estimated it to be no -more than three or four miles ahead. His radar confirmed that. It was -nerve-killing to wait as he closed down the separation, knowing that -the enemy fighter craft were also closing down. - -The infrawave chattered, "Wilson? How are we doing?" - -Wilson told him what was going on, and Allison urged Wilson to brace -himself. Allison talked steadily in a calm voice, knowing just how -hard it was for Wilson to sit there, a helpless victim of a pre-set, -mechanical program that promised a pre-calculated victory of time and -space and velocity. - -Wilson's human mind would not really be trusting calculations and -split-time electronic measurements. It would demand that he leave -his ship and run, that he take the levers and drive, that he do -something--anything--except sit there calmly and dog it through. - -Wilson saw the drive flares of the enemy, bright and dangerous, closing -in from a distance of a good many miles. It was mere miles, out here in -deep space where a mile was a meaningless, insignificant quantity. He -could almost feel the immensity of space around him in comparison to -the awful closeness of danger. - - * * * * * - -Wilson had expected that at least those aboard the lifeship would be -peering out of the observation port. He put himself in their place -and knew he would have been scanning the dead and merciless sky for -the first sight of a flare. But as his tender crept up alongside the -lifeship with maddening slowness, there was no sign of life aboard. - -It took whole seconds to match the final few yards per second per -second of decelaration against the free-flight velocity of the -lifeship. Then it took more dragging seconds to urge the tender in an -alongside course that brought lifeship and tender port to port. - -They matched, and Wilson hit the lever that powered the annular magnet -that snapped the two space-locks together hard enough to compress the -bellows into an air-seal. - -He was at the space lock before the two ships had really settled -together. He was spinning the hand wheel, then clutching at the -fast-escape lever of the lifeship. - -"Hike!" he bellowed, as the lifeship lock opened. "Hike! We've got -twenty seconds before--" - -His voice stopped dead, his heart faltered a beat, and his mind -rebelled at the shock of what he saw. - -Charles Andrews was lying on one bunk, his bleeding hands staining the -blanket. His breath was shallow and regular, but he was wheezing with -every breath. It was the sound made by someone who has lain far too -long in a semi-coma, until nervous system and automatic reactions have -become so dulled that phlegm in the throat does not produce a cough. - -Jock Norton lay on his back with his eyes not quite closed, but all -that was visible was the whites below the iris because his eyes were -turned up. His right hand dangled to the floor beside the bunk, his -left arm lay limply around the shoulders of the girl. - -Alice's face was buried on Norton's shoulder, her left arm flopped -loose across Norton's chest. Her right was trapped beneath her. - -As Wilson looked, Norton's shallow breath clogged and he began what -would have been a wallop of a cough, but his breath did not waver. His -clogged windpipe kept making little soggy noises as the wind-stream -changed in and out and in and out. - -On the floor a few inches away from Jock Norton's hands was a bottle of -capsules. - -"Hadamite!" breathed Ted Wilson helplessly. - -Hadamite, the synthetic drug, at once a curse and a blessing. A -blessing to a sufferer, but a curse to one who finds the false world of -self-satisfaction more pleasant than the work and worry and alternate -periods of happiness and grief of reality. - -Under hadamite, the slightest ambition becomes pleasantly real, desire -becomes accomplishment, doubts disappear, and fears are overcome. And -under hadamite life becomes so desirable that the mind refuses to -return to reality. With an overdose, the mind accomplishes its aims, -finds full satisfaction, then lies down to that final sleep with the -complete knowledge that everything has been done, and that there are no -more worlds to conquer. - -Wilson rushed to the cabinet and scrabbled among the bottles and boxes -there until he found the antidote. He filled the dropper on his way -across the cabin and pushed the end into Norton's mouth with one hand -while he levered Alice over on her back with the other. He discharged -the contents of the dropper into Jock Norton's mouth, refilled it, and -squirted another load between Alice's slack lips. - -Brutally he pushed down and up, down and up on their chests until he -heard the sogginess slurp down their throats. - -Then he slugged Charles Andrews in the same way. - -"Twenty damned seconds!" he snarled; in bitter realization that it -would take him longer than that to carry one of them into his tender, -let alone all three. - - * * * * * - -He was standing there in the middle of the cabin, his mouth set hard -and his mind whirling with the futility of it, when Viggon Sarri's -one-man fighter group closed down and clamped onto the hull. Wilson was -cursing fervently when he felt those forces close down. - -The cabin floor surged gently as a sideward vector of acceleration of -Viggon Sarri's task force was applied. - -Ted Wilson picked up the fallen bottle of hadamite capsules and -contemplated them sourly. He might have done better by not bothering -with the antidote. - -He had failed completely. - -He had come aboard, only to find his girl in the arms of the pilot, all -of them doped and heading for a painless death. He had prevented them -from dying, but had kept them alive only to meet some unknown future at -the hands of an unknown enemy. - -Wilson hurled the bottle of hadamite capsules against the wall where -the first searing circle of a cutter was beginning to come through. - -He was shaking his fist defiantly at the wall when Viggon Sarri and -his two lieutenants came through to meet their first Earthman face to -face.... - -In the commander's quarters aboard the flagship of the alien task -force to which Ted Wilson and the three unconscious occupants of the -lifeship had been removed, Viggon Sarri faced the Earthman. He spoke to -Wilson directly, but his voice was picked up by a microphone. Each word -he spoke went into the monster logic computer in Linus Brein's ship, -and returned to a loud-speaker that reduced Viggon Sarri's inflections -and tones to a tinny mechanical reproduction in the Terran tongue. - -"Please relax," he said, "and understand that we want only information." - -Wilson was alone now. The others had been placed under a doctor's care. - -"After which we get what?" Wilson demanded belligerently. - -Viggon Sarri's voice was harsh, but it came through the loud-speaker in -a flat monotone. "Whatever course your race prefers to take!" - -"How's that?" asked Wilson. - -"Your future is up to you." - -"Seems to me you've been calling all the tricks." - -Viggon Sarri nodded. "We hold every trump but one," he said. "We could -conquer you by force, or we could annex you as a subject race. We could -infiltrate you by various economic means. Or we could possibly reduce -you by attrition to a chaotic condition. But we probably could never -muster enough numerical strength to subdue you completely and make it -last." - -"Huh?" - -Viggon Sarri nodded. "Regin Naylo, here, proposed that we attack and -conquer by force, not being experienced enough to realize that such a -course breeds everlasting resentment and eternal revolt. You'd fight -to the last, and those of you who were not exterminated would hide and -plot revolt until one day you'd rise to displace our rule. Faren Twill, -over there, suggested a form of benevolent protectorate which would -only breed contempt. You'd quietly learn everything you could learn -from us, then coldly turn on us and carry battle to us." - -"Probably." - -Viggon Sarri nodded. "On the other hand, progress across the Galaxy -would be halted because we'd both be so busy fighting one another that -there would be little effort left over for the vast and endless program -of expanding across the countless stars." - -"Well?" Wilson shrugged. "It seems to me you're still calling the -cards." - -"We've called our last card, Commodore Wilson. From here on, as I -said, what happens in the future is up to you, and yours. Resent us, -and progress will stop. Join us as equals, and we can work together as -we spread from star to star--and I daresay there are enough stellar -systems to keep us from stepping on one another's toes." Viggon Sarri -smiled at his two lieutenants. "We have much to learn from one another, -Wilson. We can teach you patience and logic, and from you we can learn -tenacity and determination." - - * * * * * - -A member of Viggon Sarri's crew came into the room and spoke quietly -into his commander's ear in his native Bradian. He spoke in too low a -voice for it to be picked up by the microphone. - -Viggon said, "You'll be glad to know that your friends are all three -conscious, Commodore Wilson." - -"Alice is all right?" Wilson cried. - -"This man will take you to see her," Viggon Sarri smiled. - -Wilson headed for the door behind the orderly as fast as he could. By -the time the orderly had reached the portal, Wilson was almost on the -Bradian's heels. - -Viggon Sarri turned to his two lieutenants and said, "We can learn much -from these Earthmen. Eagerness, for instance. Eagerness--and emotional -love." He looked at his hands, flexing them outward, then inward. He -was thoughtful for some time before he said, "Lay a course to Sol, -Naylo. We'll take them all home. And you, Twill, see if you can connect -with Brade on a person-to-person private channel. I'd like to talk to -Valdya. 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Smith</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Spacemen lost</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: George O. Smith</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 20, 2022 [eBook #69393]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPACEMEN LOST ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter x-ebookmaker-drop"> - <img src="images/illusc.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>SPACEMEN LOST</h1> - -<p>A Novel by</p> - -<h2>GEORGE O. SMITH</h2> - -<p>Illustrated by VIRGIL FINLAY</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Startling Stories Fall 1954.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">I</p> - -<p>Over the hubbub and chatter came the brief warning wail of a small -siren. The noise died as the people in the vast waiting room stopped -talking.</p> - -<p>"Your attention, please!" boomed the loud-speaker. "Passengers for -Spaceflight Seventy-nine, departing for Castor Three and Pollux Four, -will proceed to Gate Seven for ground transportation to the take-off -block. Spaceflight Seventy-nine, waiting for passengers at Gateway -Seven!"</p> - -<p>There was a moment of silence, then a loud racket burst out as -everybody started talking at once. There was only a small flow -of people toward Gate Seven, almost negligible, because Flight -Seventy-nine was essentially a cargo hop. In fact, this morning less -than a half-dozen headed for the gateway.</p> - -<p>Among these was a tall man, impressive in his blue-black uniform. A -space commodore, no less. He carried the light bag of the woman who -was beside him, proud and happy and eager-looking. But traces of some -internal storm clouded the man's features, and as they approached -Gateway Seven, the man's perturbation worked closer and closer to the -surface until finally it broke through.</p> - -<p>"You could still back out," he said.</p> - -<p>"No, I couldn't," she said. Her own face clouded a bit.</p> - -<p>"Yes, you could," he snapped.</p> - -<p>She stopped ten or fifteen feet from Gateway Seven and turned to face -him. She was pert and pretty in a traveling suit of gray; brand-new for -this occasion. Her name was Alice Hemingway, but she would have swapped -it in a minute to become Mrs. Theodore Wilson, even on a commodore's -salary.</p> - -<p>"Look, Ted," she said slowly. "We've been back and forth over this -argument for a couple of months now. Can't you forget it?"</p> - -<p>"No, I can't," replied Ted Wilson. "I don't like the idea of you taking -to space."</p> - -<p>"I do," she said simply. "I want to see these places you are always -telling me about. I want to see 'em before I'm sixty. It's no fun -listening to your stories, then having you trot off for three or four -months on another jaunt while I sit home alone and wonder where you are -and what's doing."</p> - -<p>"But we—" He paused, thinking. "Alice," he said suddenly, "will you -marry me?"</p> - -<p>A welling of tears came then, but Alice blinked them back. "If -you'd asked me that a month ago I would have said 'Yes,' with no -stipulations, but right now I'll say 'Yes, as soon as I come back, if -you still want me.' Understand?"</p> - -<p>"Not quite."</p> - -<p>"I want you to be dead certain that the reason you want to marry me is -not to keep me from taking this spaceflight."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Ted looked down at her. "I'd really like to know if you accepted this -trip just to force me into asking you," he said slowly.</p> - -<p>"You'll never know," she said with a bright smile.</p> - -<p>He swore under his breath. "I still don't like the idea of you trotting -off to Castor Three with that old goat."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Andrews? Old goat? Why Ted! You're jealous."</p> - -<p>"I am."</p> - -<p>"Good. Stay jealous. But don't be an imbecile. Mr. Andrews is merely my -boss, not my lover. He has never so much as watched me walk, let alone -made a pass at me. I couldn't think of him as anything but a boss."</p> - -<p>"But up there—"</p> - -<p>Alice shook her head. "Forget it, Ted. I'm still your girl, and I -intend to stay that way. Even though it's smart for a girl to have a -lover or two before she marries, I'm the old-fashioned one-man type. -Virgin. No hits, no runs, no errors, and no one left on first base."</p> - -<p>"Okay," he said sullenly.</p> - -<p>She smiled up at him again. "Ted," she said seriously, "don't you see -I have to go a-space? You've ducked marriage because you can't see two -people living on a commodore's salary, and also with you flitting off -and leaving me home alone. So you want to wait until you get your next -boost. But that will get you stationed on some planetary post. I'll -get one flight to Base, then be set down for years. Well, until that -time I'm going to travel and see the interstellar sights. I want to see -the Dark Column on Procyon Five, I want to visit the Golden Rainbow on -Castor Three, and toss a penny into the Bottomless Pit on Pollux Four, -and.... Well, I can do these things so long as Mr. Andrews wants me to -travel."</p> - -<p>"But—"</p> - -<p>"Oh, Ted—please!" she cried.</p> - -<p>She clutched at him and buried her face in his shoulder. He held her, -then put a hand under her chin and lifted her face. He kissed her, not -tenderly, but with more of a frantic striving for something beyond -reach.</p> - -<p>The siren wail lifted again and the loud-speaker boomed:</p> - -<p>"Last call for Spaceflight Seventy-nine at Gateway Seven. Will Miss -Alice Hemingway please proceed to Gateway Seven!"</p> - -<p>Reluctantly she withdrew herself from her sweetheart's arms and turned -to the gateway. Ted picked up her small bag and followed her.</p> - -<p>As they reached the gate a smallish, nervous, wiry man with a clipped -gray mustache eyed Alice crisply.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Miss Hemingway, you're just in time," he said. He smiled thinly as -he looked at Ted Wilson. "However, I presume the delay was justified. -Commodore, I think the use of your handkerchief is essential."</p> - -<p>Before Ted could reply, Mr. Andrews had walked through the gateway to -the waiting spaceport bus. Alice turned back to Ted and held up her -face. This time their kiss was less frantic, but also less personal. -It was chaste, and brief, and proper. It promised for the future, but -it did not give any part of that future warmth or passion as a down -payment.</p> - -<p>Then Alice came out of his arms and went through the gateway to climb -into the bus beside her boss.</p> - -<p>As Commodore Wilson turned away, the bus drove off along the road to -the waiting spacecraft.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Commodore Wilson entered the base commander's office and smiled -glumly. The commander, Space Admiral Leonard F. Stone, a man of about -forty-five and as lithe and as hard as a man of that age could be, -looked expectant. His command was exacting and just, but he was also -human.</p> - -<p>He said, "What's troubling you, Wilson?"</p> - -<p>"Admiral," Ted Wilson said, "I know it is against the unwritten rules -to discuss the matter of increase in rank, but I wonder if we mightn't -break them for a minute or two."</p> - -<p>"We might if there were proper justification. Why?"</p> - -<p>"A commodore's salary is just a bit meager for marriage," said Wilson -unhappily.</p> - -<p>Stone's face clouded a bit and he nodded seriously. "I know," he -said. "But there's a reason, Ted. We do prefer to keep our commodores -single so long as they're in active flight service. So long as you are -well-fed, well-clothed, and well-housed yourself, the monetary payment -is sufficient to take care of your personal needs. I know it is not -enough to provide for a wife on top of that. Of course, some men do. -And others manage to marry well-to-do women."</p> - -<p>"Mine is not well-to-do, but I don't want to make her do with less."</p> - -<p>"Naturally."</p> - -<p>"Then how about this rank business? I'm about due."</p> - -<p>"You are."</p> - -<p>"Then when can I expect it?" asked Wilson.</p> - -<p>Admiral Stone looked at him determinedly. "You can hasten that process -yourself, Wilson. By acting a bit more for the benefit of the Service -than you have in the past."</p> - -<p>"Why, what do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"There's more to rank than merely following orders to the letter. Now, -you've never disobeyed orders, and it has been obvious that when orders -coincide with your personal ideas, you act eagerly and swiftly. But -when orders are opposed to your pleasure you act at the last moment and -follow them reluctantly along the thin outer edge."</p> - -<p>"For instance?"</p> - -<p>"For instance last November. You had front line tickets to the finish -post of the Armstrong Classic, but you were ordered on a training -flight around and through the Centaurus System, to last no less than -ten days and no more than thirty, at your discretion. You returned in -ten days and four hours, even though you couldn't see the end of the -Armstrong affair. Then, last May you were ordered to Eridanus Seven, -which is a remarkably interesting place as I recall from my early days. -You got home barely under the wire. Twenty-nine days, twenty-three -hours, forty minutes, and a few seconds. Follow?"</p> - -<p>Ted nodded slowly. "I felt that my crew would appreciate my attitude," -he said.</p> - -<p>"Certainly. They did. Both times. They also appreciate your stalling -in a stack-circle, waiting for that last half-hour to expire so they'd -draw overtime flight pay. But you've got to remember, Wilson, that -we are running the Space Service for the public weal, not for the -benefit of the spacemen. A parent does not bring up a child knowing -only the pleasant things of life. A balanced program of work and play -is essential. I know that the Centaurian run is no picnic, but it is a -fine training for spacemen. Now, that'll be all. I'm not criticizing -you Wilson. I recall doing similar things myself years ago. It does -draw a crew closer to their commander when he gives them consideration. -But making them work makes them efficient, and they will also love a -commander who mixes well his periods of pleasure with hours of hard -work. Agree?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Of course."</p> - -<p>"Fine," said Admiral Stone. "So now that you know, we'll watch you for -a bit. If you come through, you'll get your increase in rank—and your -girl." He smiled. "You're a good commodore, Wilson. But with a little -work and application you could be brilliant. We need brilliant men. -Remember that. Good-by and good luck, Commodore Wilson...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>His name translated from his native tongue, was Viggon Sarri. In -medieval times he might have been called "Sarri the Conqueror" for his -exploits, his conquests. But of course then it was the king, emperor, -or caesar who led his own troops.</p> - -<p>In these days the ruler sends out men of military might to fight -his battles, and Viggon Sarri was not a ruler. His position was the -equivalent of space admiral in the Interstellar Service, and though -devoted to his own service, he was only a paid hand.</p> - -<p>His home was far across the galaxy from Sol and the sprinkling of -stellar systems colonized by human beings. Viggon Sarri had never met a -human, he did not know that this section of the universe had any trace -of sentient life. He was just out looking for new worlds to exploit, -perhaps to conquer. A new district to colonize, perhaps, or a world of -beings advanced at least to the point where the produce and manufacture -of his homeland could be sold for metal.</p> - -<p>Naturally, Viggon Sarri explored space at the head of several hundred -ultra-fast and ultra-hard-boiled fighting spacecraft—fourteen big -battle wagons, two fighter carriers each providing a hundred one-man -space attack craft, and one hunter, a detecting craft. It was loaded to -the astrodome with every device for locating evidences of anything from -advanced races to enemy spacecraft.</p> - -<p>Sarri rode in his flagship, one position ahead of the hunter. And so, -when the detecting equipment in the hunter registered that some race in -this sector of the galaxy was advanced enough to be using the power of -the atomic nucleus, Viggon Sarri gave orders for his fleet to spread -out in a big, flat dishlike formation, flatwise toward this section of -the sky.</p> - -<p>It came to as near a halt as anything can approach in deep space, and -Viggon Sarri called a conference.</p> - -<p>He sat at the head of the table, his two second officers at his left -and right. They were equal in rank, Regin Naylo and Faren Twill. This -irked them both, and for a long time they had been striving to rise -above one another. But only Viggon Sarri knew which was listed in -the sealed orders, to be opened only in the case of the death of the -supreme commander.</p> - -<p>At the far end of the table sat Linus Brein, commander-mathematician of -the hunter spacecraft.</p> - -<p>Viggon said, "Linus, what do we know about these people?"</p> - -<p>Brein thought, then said, "Very little, actually. They use atomic -power. They have discovered interstellar flight. They seem to have some -interstellar commerce. They use the infrawave bands for communication -across space. I would say, off-hand, that they may have colonized -no more than a dozen planets, and are exploring perhaps a dozen -more. I would also guess that their exploration is done by sheer -go-out-and-look techniques."</p> - -<p>"Why do you suggest that?" asked Viggon.</p> - -<p>"Analogy. Their use of the infrawave is not highly developed. I doubt -that they have planet-finding equipment. I have not noticed any attempt -to use the infrawave as a detecting and locating means. Only for -communication is the infrawave employed by them."</p> - -<p>"I see. Any more?"</p> - -<p>"Not at present," said Linus Brein. "We will collect more as our men -pick up information and our analyzers compile data."</p> - -<p>"Keep me posted," ordered Viggon Sarri.</p> - -<p>He sat there in silence, a tall man with a thin face that looked -wolfish. His ears were flat and distorted, to the human point of view. -His eyes were glittery bright, having that shiny cornea characteristic -of the nocturnal animal of Terra. He had six stubby strong fingers on -each hand and a long double-jointed thumb. Each hand had two palms, -fore and back so that the fingers could curl either inward or outward. -His elbows were double, one bent in or locked straight, the other bent -out or locked straight, as he moved.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Viggon stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. His eyes, roaming -independently gave his features a bizarre look which his own race -thought quite natural.</p> - -<p>Finally he said, "Has anybody any suggestions?"</p> - -<p>Regin Naylo said, "I say we attack as soon as we know more about them."</p> - -<p>He felt confident. He believed that his admiral enjoyed swift and -decisive action, and by suggesting it he hoped to show that his -thoughts ran in the same channels as those of his commander.</p> - -<p>Faren Twill said, "It might be better to make allies of them, rather -than enemies."</p> - -<p>Twill held the notion that Viggon Sarri's main motivation was to build -and expand in the easiest, and most profitable manner. And he felt that -careful negotiations might pay off better than invasion and strong -conquest.</p> - -<p>But in truth Viggon Sarri himself did not know which course to take. -He was not above the use of force, if force were needed. Nor was he -against the idea of peaceful negotiation, even the formation of an -alliance. Which course he would take depended entirely upon what sort -of culture this was, how the people reacted, and what they favored. -For such knowledge he would rely on data collected by Linus Brein and -analyzed by the mathematician's vast bank of computers.</p> - -<p>Regin Naylo grunted in a superior tone. "They sound like an inferior -race. Inept and primitive. Let's not waste time."</p> - -<p>Faren Twill shook his head. "You want to barge in there with the -projectors flaming and conquer them by force. That would be easy, but -would it leave enough to make the conquest economically sound?"</p> - -<p>"Can you sell anything to mice?"</p> - -<p>Faren Twill grinned. "Cheese," he suggested. "Besides, an angry gang of -rats can do in an elephant, you know."</p> - -<p>"Chicken," sneered Regin Naylo.</p> - -<p>Of course none of them had ever seen a mouse, a rat, an elephant, -or a chicken. But on their homeland, a planet called "Brade," there -were myriad life forms, just as on any inhabitable planet. The -forms of animal life mentioned were similar enough to permit a free -transliteration. "Chicken" also existed in its completely alien form.</p> - -<p>But until the native tongue of Brade becomes common to Earthmen, -this loose transliteration of their speech characteristics suffices -to convey their meaning. Since their grammar bears no relation to -any Solarian tongue, it must be converted rather than translated, or -even transliterated. So if they sound like people of Earth instead of -extra-solar aliens, that is the only way to convey their meaning.</p> - -<p>"Twill is right," said Viggon Sarri. "We must be wary. This may be a -communal culture, like that of the insect, ant, in which the individual -is expendable so long as the nucleus is undamaged. In such a case -suicide fighters would swarm over us, and against such we could not -stand. If, on the other hand, this is a completely individualistic, or -anarchic culture, we must call Brade for help. We would need a horde of -space fighters to control the entire group." He looked at Linus Brein. -"You will, of course, have their language analyzed?"</p> - -<p>"We are working on it now. It is not difficult to connect the sound -forms with the meaning, under known conditions and situations. But -it is extremely difficult to make such analysis when we have not the -foggiest notion of what situation is being described by the sounds. I—"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A winking light on the wall called his attention. Linus Brein touched a -stud on an armlet. The tiny communicator said, in a thin, tinny voice:</p> - -<p>"Commander Brein? Analyst Hogar speaking. The space-strain detectors -have just picked up a violent response. The computer-analyzer bands -report the following probability to at least three nines: That a space -craft has foundered due to the failure of the warp-generator. Have you -any orders as to our next moves?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Hogar. Record everything. Analyze everything!" He let the stud -snap back into place, then said to Viggon Sarri:</p> - -<p>"An ill wind blows, Admiral Sarri. Their misfortune may be our gain."</p> - -<p>"It might indeed." Viggon nodded.</p> - -<p>"I suggest that we send a fleeter out to seek survivors," said Regin -Naylo.</p> - -<p>"No," said Faren Twill. "We will learn more by listening to their -communications and watching how they face this problem."</p> - -<p>"What's better than a being able to interpret his own sounds?" snapped -Naylo.</p> - -<p>"Taking a little longer by doing it ourselves, and not giving them any -warning that there stands another intelligent race not far offside. Why -forearm them?"</p> - -<p>"Right," interposed Viggon Sarri. "We watch from a distance."</p> - -<p>Linus Brein stood up. "I'd best be going back," he said. "This language -analysis may get deeply involved. I'd feel better if I could supervise -it myself. May I leave, Admiral Sarri?"</p> - -<p>"We'll all leave. This conference is over until more detailed -information is at hand. My orders are: Take no action, but observe -closely and critically. Dismissed, gentlemen. We'll all drink to -success!"</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri pressed the stud on his armlet and ordered a tray of -refreshments. Linus Brein did not stay for his share.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">II</p> - - -<p>Spaceflight Seventy-nine took off, lifted on schedule by Pilot Jock -Norton. Norton was a big man, rather on the lazy side, but a good -pilot. If he had had any ambition at all, he would have owned his -spacecraft, maybe a string of several, instead of being a paid space -jockey.</p> - -<p>But Jock Norton lacked the drive, or perhaps had never seen anything he -actually wanted. He was a love-em-and-leave-em kind of guy who spent -everything he earned on good times and luxuries. He spent no time -seeking out the better pay loads as other pilots did, and so did not -collect any of the fancy commissions for being a good businessman. He -had gravitated to a standard contract type of job and with this he was -satisfied.</p> - -<p>His cargoes were invariably bid-basis job lots, instead of valuable -merchandise with a delivery factor. He ran mail loads mostly—mail -that could not, for legal reasons, be micro-microfilmed, transmitted -by facsi-wave, or recomposed by infrawave at the receiving end. Legal -contracts, documents, and the like, the one-and-only original of which -must bear the <i>bona fide</i> signature of both parties.</p> - -<p>Norton took the spacecraft up, fired the warp-generator, and headed for -Castor Three at about forty parsecs per hour. Then, with the control -room on the full automatic, he went down to the salon, because it had -been a couple of months of Sundays since he had been pilot-host to -anyone as young and attractive as Miss Alice Hemingway. Most of his -passengers had been businessmen. The few women had been wives of such -businessmen, a bit on the dowager side, and therefore more boring than -interesting.</p> - -<p>But Miss Alice Hemingway was interesting. Not that Jock Norton favored -her ash-blond and dark-eyed attractiveness more than he would have -admired a redhead or an olive-skinned brunette. He favored all women -under thirty who were properly rounded here and there—especially -there—and who had clear-skinned faces with regular features.</p> - -<p>That Alice Hemingway, secretary, was traveling with her boss made her -even more interesting. Norton had cased Mr. Charles Andrews carefully -and put him down as a Napoleon type, peppery and active, and probably -well-to-do, but not personally attractive to the opposite sex. It was -money, decided Norton, that bought a reasonable facsimile of affection -to Mr. Charles Andrews.</p> - -<p>It would be masculine virility, thought Jock Norton, that would offset -the money of Charles Andrews and really bring a proper emotional -response from the girl.</p> - -<p>"Good morning," he greeted them from the last step of the ladder that -led down from the control room.</p> - -<p>"How do you do, Pilot Norton," responded Andrews.</p> - -<p>"My goodness!" exclaimed Alice. "Isn't that dangerous?"</p> - -<p>"Isn't what dangerous?" asked Norton, with a wide, lazy smile.</p> - -<p>"Your leaving the ship to run itself."</p> - -<p>"Not at all." Norton showed his superior knowledge. "Our auto-pilot -is the best that money can buy and maintain. And after all, Miss -Hemingway, there is little a pilot can do while we are in transit. -The auto-pilot does the job from after take-off to before landing. In -between, the human pilot relaxes and enjoys his space travel. So—may -I build you a cocktail? Or maybe you'd prefer a highball."</p> - -<p>"At this hour in the morning?"</p> - -<p>Norton laughed and inspected his watch. "I admit that it is ten o'clock -by Chicago time. But it is past midnight on Polaris Two at Minervatown. -It's three A.M. in Leyport, Procyon Five. It's even three -o'clock in London, Terra."</p> - -<p>"Besides," said Charles Andrews curtly, "we're hard at work."</p> - -<p>"Work?" exploded Norton loftily. "You're hard at work in deep space?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly. Deep space or hard planet, work must go on. I did not get -where I am by goofing off, Pilot Norton."</p> - -<p>Jock Norton grinned. "All work and no play, you know."</p> - -<p>"All play and no work is worse."</p> - -<p>"It's more fun," said Jock, with a feeling that he was coming off -second-best in this fool argument. "Look," he said, "everybody relaxes -in deep space. It's customary. It's holiday."</p> - -<p>"It's damn foolish." Andrews turned to Alice. "Miss Hemingway, what do -you think?"</p> - -<p>"I'm half-inclined to agree with you, Mr. Andrews. But you must know -I'm thrilled to be a-space. I've never been off Earth before."</p> - -<p>"Oh. Then I capitulate. Pilot Norton, will you give Miss Hemingway a -space tourist's run of the ship, please?"</p> - -<p>"Be happy to." Norton nodded.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He looked around the salon, from face to face. There were four others -there, all of them watching with a blank sort of interest. Norton took -a deep breath of inner cheer for his luck. All the rest looked as -though nothing could be as boring as a tourist's run of a spacecraft. -He made the gesture of asking, but all shook their heads.</p> - -<p>Norton opened the small bar and set everyone up to cocktails. Then he -said to Alice, "Now, let's start at the bottom and work our way up."</p> - -<p>"Any way you say," she told him.</p> - -<p>Andrews got to his feet. "I think I'll tag along."</p> - -<p>Norton swore below his breath.</p> - -<p>Alice walked between them as Norton explained the workings of the -spacecraft. She found Norton a good talker, and his lazy manner of -speech somehow managed to convey a lot of information that a more -intense man would have flubbed, because of a greater preoccupation with -facts.</p> - -<p>Even Mr. Andrews seemed interested, although he had been a-space many -times before, as a matter of business.</p> - -<p>Norton explained the workings of the power pile in a much -oversimplified way, showed them the various rooms of machinery for -maintaining air and water and electrical circuits throughout the ship. -As he had suggested, they started at the bottom, looking out through -the below-hatch at the hull of the ship, where the misty blue corona -flared down and back from the eight tubular drivers that thrust their -blunt cylindrical noses down in a large circle, surrounding the after -viewport.</p> - -<p>Then Norton worked them aloft slowly, up through the room filled with -water for the reaction mass, and hurled out from the throat of the -driver tubes as a molecular-atomic gas so highly energized that it was -not water, but nascent hydrogen and oxygen, completely ionized. The -coronal flare below, he explained, was the recombination of the nuclei -with their electrons in shells, and the partial recompositions of the -gases into water.</p> - -<p>He showed them the warp-generator that created the extra space field -around the ship, nullifying every physical attribute of matter. Neither -mass nor inertia remained, so that the thrust of the flare had no -resistance against which to exert its force, resulting in a drive that -violated the Einstein equations. Forward velocity reached terminal when -the interstellar matter provided a tenuous medium against which the -velocity of the ship found resistance.</p> - -<p>He showed them the magnetic-mass detector that protected them against -meteors, and explained that while the thing was primitive, it was the -best that Mankind had. The infrawave was hopeless because it had an -instantaneous velocity of propagation and was also nondirectional, and -therefore neither direction-finding nor ranging could be accomplished -with the infrawave.</p> - -<p>But the magnetic-mass detector was not as hopeless as it looked.</p> - -<p>He said casually, "There were a lot of tall stories back in the Early -Twentieth Century about spacecraft filled with course-computing gear -that measured the course of meteorites, then directed the spacecraft. -A more practical study of any such device shows that any extraneous -object that does not change its aspect angle is necessarily on a -collision course. Ergo, any target that does not move causes the alarm -to ring, and the auto-pilot to swerve aside." He grinned and added in a -low voice, "We're as safe as if we were all in bed."</p> - -<p>As his arm touched Alice's she realized that Jock Norton had been -entertaining the idea of bed ever since this tourist's run had started. -She smiled because it amused her. Jock Norton had made a snap judgment, -probably because he had seen a lot of such shenanigans as man and woman -playing employer and secretary before. She almost laughed at Norton, -realizing that he was displaying all of his knowledge and his virility -in the hope of convincing her that he was probably more fun in bed than -the elderly Napoleon type with whom she was traveling.</p> - -<p>She stole a look at Andrews, comparing the two men. She wondered -whether Andrews had cottoned onto Norton's play and if he had, whether -her boss found it funny or irritating.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>As they walked along a curved corridor, she saw with some surprise that -twice Mr. Andrews had lagged back a bit, then had come forward behind -them to walk by her side instead of on the far side of Jock Norton. -And both times Norton had quietly lagged back to circle her and step -forward between them, explaining quietly that Mr. Andrews could hear -his explanation better if he, Norton, walked between.</p> - -<p>Alice was still wondering whether Charles Andrews actually held any -off-trail notions about his traveling secretary when all hell broke -loose.</p> - -<p>First came the wild clangor of an alarm, and the automatic cry of a -recorded order:</p> - -<p>"Your undivided attention, please! This is urgent! You have eleven -minutes from the end of this announcement to follow these directions. -There has been a partial failure of the warp-generator. If this -failure becomes complete, and the space field collapses, the effect -will be that of precipitating intrinsic mass into the real Universe -while traveling at some high multiple of the velocity of light. The -spacecraft then will drop instantly below the speed of light but -in doing so will radiate all the energy-mass equivalent to those -multi-light speeds, according to the Einstein equation of mass and -energy. It is therefore expedient that you repair to the lifeship locks -and prepare to debark. The partial failure may or may not continue. If -not, there will be no more danger. But in case of continued breakdown—"</p> - -<p>The recorded announcement stopped abruptly as a louder alarm bell rang -briefly. Then another voice from the squawk-box shouted:</p> - -<p>"The warp-generator is failing! You have—"</p> - -<p>A third voice came in automatically saying, "Eleven minutes," after -which the second voice continued neatly, "to make your way to a -lifeship and debark. Please do not panic. You have plenty of time."</p> - -<p>"It's this way," Norton said anxiously.</p> - -<p>"We'll find it," said Andrews. "I know this spacecraft type. Hadn't you -better take care of your other passengers?"</p> - -<p>Norton wanted to swear. It would have been so neat if Andrews hadn't -insisted upon coming along on this tourist's run of the spacecraft. As -it was, Norton couldn't quite bring himself to suggest that Andrews -take care of the other customers while Norton himself took care of the -girl. On the other hand, Norton had no intention of rushing off to take -care of the others when they were probably being taken care of right -now by the engineer-technician. He said that, and repeated it to give -it force.</p> - -<p>"This way," he said.</p> - -<p>The announcer bawled, "You now have ten minutes!"</p> - -<p>"Couldn't I get my bag?" pleaded Alice.</p> - -<p>"Anything of real value in it?" asked Norton.</p> - -<p>"Not really."</p> - -<p>"Then we'd best leave it." Norton breathed a sigh of relief. Now she -wouldn't find it more expedient to travel with the bunch upstairs.</p> - -<p>He led them up a flight of curved stairs and around another curved -corridor as the announcement howled:</p> - -<p>"Nine minutes!"</p> - -<p>The squawk-box said, in a more natural voice, "Jock? Look, I've got -this section under control. How're you doing?"</p> - -<p>"I'm doing fine, Limey. We're almost at the below-station lock."</p> - -<p>"Be seein' you. Luck."</p> - -<p>The announcement yelled:</p> - -<p>"Eight minutes! You all have plenty of time. Remember, safety is more -important that blind speed! Listen!"</p> - -<p>The tremolo of an organ filled the spacecraft—vibrant, thrilling, -brilliant music rising over the <i>throb, throb, throb</i> of heavy bass, -beating time just fast enough to keep feet moving briskly, but nowhere -fast enough to cause panic or fumbled steps.</p> - -<p>"Seven minutes!" came the cry.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Norton's hands closed on the space lock and he twisted the emergency -handles. The inner door swung open ponderously and they walked past the -portal. The lock swung behind them and the dogs went home.</p> - -<p>"Six minutes!" came a less resonant call from a smaller loud-speaker in -the lock.</p> - -<p>Jock Norton handed Alice through the small space lock of the lifeship, -boosted Andrews in after her, then climbed in himself.</p> - -<p>"Five minutes!" was almost cut off as the lifeship space lock swung -shut.</p> - -<p>"Four minutes!" came as the big outer space lock was cracked.</p> - -<p>Norton's hands on the lifeship controls moved and the little spacer -leaped out of the doorway.</p> - -<p>On the infrawave they heard the call of "Three minutes!" then "Two!" -and finally the announcement, "You are now all debarked and are in -places of safety. The distress call has been sent constantly from -the moment of danger. Sit tight and make no foolish moves until help -comes. Do not look to the rear, as the explosion of a collapsed field -generator is brilliant enough to sear the eyes—"</p> - -<p>The voice stopped abruptly as there came a wave of sheer heat. The -ports on the side of the lifeship flared blue-white, and the spacecraft -bucked as though it were being driven into a heavy gas cloud.</p> - -<p>"What was that?" blurted Andrews, picking himself up off the heaving -deck.</p> - -<p>Norton shrugged. "That was Spaceflight Seventy-nine going to hell in a -wicker basket," he said.</p> - -<p>"But why? We weren't hit by anything."</p> - -<p>"You can bet not," Norton said cheerfully. "Don't you know about -spaceflight factors? The Einstein equation?"</p> - -<p>Andrews eyed the pilot coldly. For several hours the younger man had -been explaining all sorts of things in a condescending manner, showing -off his knowledge in a field that he knew far better than any one else -present. This was galling to the financier, who was used to paying -mathematicians and physicists small change.</p> - -<p>"I don't have time to clutter up my mind with equations," he told -Norton coldly. "I usually pay people to have them explain these things -to me. So go right ahead."</p> - -<p>Norton's thick hide sloughed off the insult because he was still the -bright one.</p> - -<p>He said, "The original Einstein equation of mass and energy shows that -as the speed of light is reached, the mass reaches infinite mass. This -is an obvious impossibility, since even the total mass of the Universe -is not an infinite mass. So when a body traveling at faster-than-light -is hurled into the real Universe by the collapse of the warp-generator, -for the barest instant it is actually traveling beyond light. This -causes it to assume some unknown factor of mass that no physicist has -been able to theorize yet, but must be the impossible infinity-plus. -At any rate, the fabric of space is twisted, as if by a gravitational -field so powerful that the field wraps up around itself and forces the -mass into a Universe of its own."</p> - -<p>"You're talking gibberish."</p> - -<p>"Sure I am. But you find me someone who can explain this effect without -talking like an imbecile and I'll buy you a good cigar."</p> - -<p>"All right—go on. What is supposed to happen?"</p> - -<p>Norton shrugged. "If a volume of space is removed from the structure -of space—this is more gibberish, Andrews, believe me—then there must -be an instantaneous flow of space back to fill the gap. Now, for God's -sake don't ask me why empty space has got to flow into a place where -some empty space has been removed. I've always been taught that nothing -from nothing leaves nothing. Maybe nothing from nothing leaves less -nothing than before, but that sounds as silly as the rest of the whole -fool argument. At any rate, every time a warp-generator collapses, the -same twist occurs in the structure of space. There have been billions -of bucks' worth of equipment shot into nothingness by the White Sands -Space Academy in the last hundred years, just to see if someone can -come up with a logical answer."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Andrews said coldly, "All right. So now what do we do?"</p> - -<p>"We sit it out," Norton said cheerfully.</p> - -<p>"Doing what?"</p> - -<p>"Decelerating to a velocity below light. We still have our ship's -intrinsic to get rid of, you know."</p> - -<p>"Why don't we keep on?"</p> - -<p>"Because this is a lifeship and not a spacecraft. We have only enough -space power to pull ourselves down safely, with some reserve, and then -we use the reserve to emit our distress call. Cheer up. We got off -safely. This will be a breeze."</p> - -<p>"It will? And why are you so happy about it?"</p> - -<p>Jock Norton smiled, then said the one thing that removed all and -any chance of Alice Hemingway ever looking upon him as a desirable -character, virile or not.</p> - -<p>"Spaceman's insurance," he said. "For spacewreck, one thousand cold -clams. For debarking with every passenger within a reasonable distance -of my position at the time of distress, an award of one thousand more -frogskins each. This is not so much an insurance award as it is a -reward incentive for a spaceman to do the right and proper thing. Then, -for every lonely hour adrift in deep space, from the time of distress -until we are collected safely, one hundred fish. This should add up -to a neat sum by the time we are picked up. Tommy Walton and Joe Lake -drifted for eight hours and collected. Sure, we're sitting pretty and -we'll be rescued in due time. So let's settle down and take it easy."</p> - -<p>Andrews said, "I suppose you've spent half of your time a-space hoping -for some disaster so you could collect a neat pile."</p> - -<p>"Not quite that bad. This is likely to be sure rough before we're -collected. But it does pay off. So let's relax, huh?"</p> - -<p>Alice was breathing a silent prayer to Commodore Wilson that he make it -a quick run. She was sick and tired of spacing already....</p> - -<p>Admiral Stone said, "These are your orders, Wilson. You are to take -your squadron out to Cube X-Z-Fifty-nineteen, District Forty-seven. -You'll have to comb it inch by inch."</p> - -<p>"I'll comb it millimeter by millimeter," asserted Wilson. "Miss -Hemingway was on that spacer."</p> - -<p>"Don't do anything foolish," warned the space admiral. "Just remember -that you're a flight commodore and not a full squadron commander yet. -You have your orders."</p> - -<p>"I have. And I'll bring them back. Both lifeship loads."</p> - -<p>"Then get going. Remember that every hour decreases their chances of a -safe rescue. Luck, Wilson. Spaceman's luck!"</p> - -<p>"Correct, Admiral Stone."</p> - -<p>Less than a quarter-hour later, Ted Wilson's flight of twenty-five -swift light spacecraft went barreling up out of Chicago Spaceport and -into that region of the sky called Gemini....</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri sat in the main control cabin of the hunter spacecraft, -quietly waiting for Linus Brein to finish some involved equations in -logic symbols. When the long string of symbols had come to what looked -like a satisfactory conclusion, Brein looked up.</p> - -<p>"Any success?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes indeed." Brein nodded. "Of course our interpretations of their -speech is only symbolic at this point. But this much we know. This -series of sounds—" he snapped a switch on the side of his desk and -a wall speaker delivered a series of what sounded to them like sheer -gibberish—"connotates as follows: Voice A has called for contact -with any receiving station. Voice B has responded, informing A that -he is ready to receive. Voice A then delivers a running account of -the disaster, delivering his computed position, vector of travel, and -space coordinates. I've untangled some of their tongue." Brein replayed -the recording and stopped it after the first passage. He parroted the -gibberish, "'Spaceflight Seventy-nine calling Distress.' That, Viggon, -is interpreted in our tongue as 'Identification Number So-and-so -calling to announce disaster.'"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He let the recording run a bit then said, again parroting the -gibberish, "'Chicago Spaceport, Interstellar Service to Spaceflight -Seventy-nine. We read you five by five, go ahead. What is your -distress?' We interpret the reply as, 'Base of Operations has -received your distress call. Please elucidate.' What follows defies -identification, Admiral Sarri. Until we can meet one of these people -and learn more of their physiognomy, we cannot hope to unravel their -numerical system. Damn it, we don't even know how many fingers they -have."</p> - -<p>"Or," suggested Sarri drily, "whether they might have stopped counting -on their hands."</p> - -<p>"Indeed." Linus Brein nodded thoughtfully. "However, not long after the -reception of this distress signal, the entire infrawave band seemed to -fill up with all sorts of signals, all of them repeating the sounds -that we assume are the space coordinates of this foundered spacecraft."</p> - -<p>"Indicating that this is not a completely anarchistic or communal, -insect-type culture. The individual is important."</p> - -<p>"I would say so."</p> - -<p>Regin Naylo smiled. It would have been an odd-looking facial grimace to -an Earthman, for it turned the corners of his pencil-thin lips down and -furrowed the skin of his head between the gleaming eyes and the low, -ragged hairline.</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri said, "What do you find so amusing?"</p> - -<p>Regin replied, "If they are individually important, then the culture -finds the individual important, as opposed to the insect-type which -wouldn't mind losing a few billions so long as the inner hive is -intact, or the anarchistic culture where the loss of a unit is not -even noticed, because every one of them is so preoccupied with his own -affairs that he can take no time to consider the next man."</p> - -<p>"Right. So what?"</p> - -<p>"I say let's hit 'em while they're all occupied in tracking down the -survivors of this wreck."</p> - -<p>Faren Twill grunted sourly, "Ever try to interfere with a dog and her -pups? You get bitten whether you mean good or ill. If you care for my -opinion you'll ... Or do you give a damn?"</p> - -<p>"Go ahead."</p> - -<p>"I say we just slide in there quietly and collect the lifeships. Then, -later, we can go in boldly and establish our superior position."</p> - -<p>Regin Naylo shook his head superciliously. "I say we should hit 'em -with all we've got and establish our physical superiority. Look, Faren, -either way this gang of subhumans is going to end up in some form -of servitude to us. Let's make it the quick and dirty way and save -manpower. Besides, what can they possibly have that we want?"</p> - -<p>Twill shrugged. "Any subject race is a good market."</p> - -<p>Naylo laughed. "I'd rather shove it down their throats by taxation. -Then we'd collect without having to give them a string of uranium beads -for exchange."</p> - -<p>Faren Twill asked Viggon Sarri for his opinion.</p> - -<p>Viggon said, without changing expression, "There are races that will -not abide the idea of collaboration, and there are races that either -revolt or die under any superior government. It has been my lifework -to expand the Bradian culture, one way and another, across the galaxy. -When we finish with this problem here, another world—in this case -another series of colonized worlds—will enter one of the forms of -economic relationships with Brade. Whether we blast in and smash them, -or ooze in and coerce them quietly; take them over, or hail them as an -ally."</p> - -<p>"Ally?" roared Regin Naylo scornfully. "This bunch of primitives who -haven't even got an infrawave detector?"</p> - -<p>"Ally?" snarled Faren Twill disgustedly. "This people who cannot -protect their spacecraft from warp failure?"</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri held up his doubly-prehensile hand. "Either of you may -be right," he said. "But remember that we do have time. So we'll -wait until we know more about their basic character before we take -any course. Go consult Linus Brein. Watch his computations and his -evaluations. Come back when you have more complete data for your own -evaluation."</p> - -<p>Naylo and Twill left together.</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri called Brein on the ultra-infrawave.</p> - -<p>"Linus? My headstrong youths are coming over to look at your data. Like -any other kids they know everything, but dammit, like a lot of kids one -of them may be right. Maybe I'm overcautious. So give them all the data -you have, and let them evaluate it. I'll happily pin a medal on one of -them if he's right and I'm wrong. Okay?"</p> - -<p>Linus Brein agreed.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">III</p> - - -<p>Under the temporary command of Commodore Theodore Wilson the space -squadron sped out into the uncharted wastes of the sky on the true line -toward Castor. Slowly, as the squadron flew, its component spacecraft -diverged in a narrow cone so that the volume of space to be covered -would fall within the scope of the detection equipment aboard each -ship. Computers flicked complex functions in variables of the laws of -probability, and came up with a long series of "and-or-if" results.</p> - -<p>Toby Manning, Master Computer for the squadron, sympathized when Wilson -showed the latest sheaf.</p> - -<p>Wilson grunted, "This is no damn good at all. It sort of says that the -lifeships will be wherever we find them."</p> - -<p>Manning nodded. "Like the problem of catching a lion on the Sahara -Desert. You get a lion cage with an open door, electronically triggered -to close at the press of a distant button. Then the laws of probability -state that at any instant there exists a mathematical probability the -lion is in the region of the cage. At this instant you shut the door. -The lion lies within the cage, trapped."</p> - -<p>"Stop goofing off. This is no picnic. Have you any idea of how many -square light years we have to comb?"</p> - -<p>"Cubic light years, Commodore Wilson."</p> - -<p>"Cubic. So I'm sloppy in my speech, too? Look, Manning, all we really -want from you is the overall conic volume in which the lifeships must -lie. You know the course of Flight Seventy-nine. You know the standard -take-off velocity of a lifeship. The forward motion plus the sidewise, -escape velocity, produces a vector angle which falls in the volume of -a cone because we don't know which escape angle they may have used. We -can pinpoint the place of escape fairly close."</p> - -<p>"Yeah, within a light year. Maybe two."</p> - -<p>"And we know that the lifeship will reduce its velocity below light as -soon as possible."</p> - -<p>"Naturally."</p> - -<p>"So somewhere on that vector cone, or within it, is a lifeship—two -lifeships—traveling on some unknown course at some velocity -considerably lower than the speed of light."</p> - -<p>"We've located 'em before. We'll locate 'em again."</p> - -<p>Wilson shook his head worriedly. "That's a lot of vacant space out -there. Even admitting that we have the place pinpointed, the pinpoint -is a couple of light years in diameter, and will grow larger as time -and the lifeship course continues. Or," he added crisply, "shall we -take a certain volume of space and assert that a definite mathematical -probability exists that the survivors lie within that volume?"</p> - -<p>"Sorry, Commodore. I didn't mean to be scornful."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, you'd better set up your space grid in the coordinate tank -and we'll start combing it cube by cube."</p> - -<p>"Correct," said Toby Manning.</p> - -<p>The "tank" was not really a tank. It was a stereo projection against a -flat glass wall at one end of the big Information Center Room below the -bridge section of the flagship. Wilson went there some time later to -watch the bustle as the tank was set up to cover the segment of space -they intended to comb.</p> - -<p>Even looking at the thing required some training. The plotters and -watchers wore polaroid glasses to provide the stereo effect. Through -the special glasses, the tank looked like a small scale model of this -section of the sky. Castor and Pollux and other nearby stars were no -longer pinpoints on a flat black surface, but tiny points of light that -seemed to hang in space, some in front of and some behind the position -of the screen itself.</p> - -<p>Behind the glass screen, a technician was carefully laying a curve down -on a drawing table with a pantagraph instrument. As he moved the pencil -point along the curve, a thin green line appeared in stereo, starting -close by and abruptly, and leading towards the dot labeled Castor.</p> - -<p>The loud-speaker said, "This green line is the computed course of -Spaceflight Seventy-nine."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A red knot was placed on the line.</p> - -<p>"This is the approximate point of explosion."</p> - -<p>Wilson asked, "Is that nominal or is that placed on the minus side?"</p> - -<p>"The spot is placed to give the maximum factor of safety."</p> - -<p>"Good."</p> - -<p>"Now, after considering the probable velocity of escape from -Seventy-nine, which would be a lifeship leaving the mother vessel at -a ninety-degree relative course at full lifeship speed, we find a -vector combination of velocities and courses that diverge from the main -course."</p> - -<p>From the red knot another line went out at a small angle to the -original course, thin and red.</p> - -<p>"But because we have no way of knowing what the axial attitude of -Seventy-nine was at the moment of escape, the volume of probability now -becomes a cone."</p> - -<p>The angled red line revolved about a green course line describing -a thin cone, its base pointed toward the star, Castor. As the line -revolved about the axis of the cone, it left a faint residue behind it, -which became a thin, transparent cone.</p> - -<p>Manning said, "Our field of operations lies within this cone."</p> - -<p>Someone running the projector went to work. The scene expanded until -the thin red cone filled the screen and seemed to project deep into -the room, its apex almost at the eyes of the watchers. Then a polar -pattern appeared across the cone near the apex, a circular grid marked -off in thin white lines, each line numbered, each area or segment, -marked with a letter.</p> - -<p>Down the room where the cone was larger, another grid appeared -similarly marked.</p> - -<p>Manning went on, "We cannot tell, of course, at what point in the -collapse the survivors made their escape. We know that the automatic -circuits begin deceleration as soon as the warp-generator shows signs -of failure, the hope being that the spacecraft will fall to a safe -velocity before the field collapses completely. Therefore escape could -be made at any velocity between forty parsecs per hour, if they escaped -before the deceleration began, or at normal under-light velocity, -which might take place if the spacecraft had succeeded in dropping to -safety before the field collapsed. However, in that case, there would -have been no explosion and our space wreck victims would have remained -in the spacecraft, or returned to it as soon as they saw it was safe. -Therefore, integrating the probabilities outlined here, the survivors -must lie between the planes of maxima and minima, representing escape -at maximum forward velocity and minimum forward velocity. Here, -gentlemen, is your search grid."</p> - -<p>The rest of the stereo-field went out, leaving the white lines of the -grids. Lateral lines now appeared to connect intersections of the fore -grid with the corresponding intersection of the aft grid.</p> - -<p>"We are here."</p> - -<p>Tiny discs of purple dotted space before the small end grid. The discs -were flat-on to the grid and represented the maximum distance for space -detection of matter.</p> - -<p>Wilson felt something touch him on the arm. He turned. A tech-operator -standing there had a bewildered look on his face.</p> - -<p>"Yes?" said Wilson.</p> - -<p>"I'm puzzled, Commodore. Suppose we don't find them in a long time. -Won't that far grid have to be pushed back?"</p> - -<p>"No," Wilson explained wearily. "The function of a lifeship is to get -its occupants down below the velocity of light and then coast. Since -that grid represents a total distance of about ten light years, they'd -have to be floating for ten years at the velocity of light to make it. -Any normal speed, over a period of weeks, would hardly appear long -enough to cover the thickness of one of the grid lines."</p> - -<p>"Ten light years!"</p> - -<p>Wilson nodded and repeated. "This is no picnic." He turned from the -tech-operator to the planning table. "Unless someone has a better -suggestion, we'll set up a hexagonal flight pattern with a safe -detector overlap and start by cutting a hole down through this grid -volume along the prime axis. Anybody got any other suggestions?"</p> - -<p>Space Captain Frank Edwards shook his head. "Not unless someone has -improved on the <i>Manual of Flight Procedures</i>," he said.</p> - -<p>"Okay then. Here we go."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Commodore Wilson leaned back and watched the grid as Edwards got on -the ship-to-ship and gave the operational orders. The little discs -rearranged themselves slowly into a hexagonal lattice with their edges -overlapping, then the flight began to move forward into the grid, -running down the line of axis.</p> - -<p>Somewhere inside of the cage made by the white lines a lifeship was -drifting, a sub-sub-microscopic mote alone in a volume of space so -large that light would take ten years to traverse the volume from top -to bottom.</p> - -<p>Wilson shook his head and took off his polaroids to brush his eyes. -The stereo-field collapsed flat against the glass screen and became a -meaningless jumble of lines. Wilson put his glasses back on hastily.</p> - -<p>Captain Edwards said softly, "Take it easy, Ted. We'll find her."</p> - -<p>Wilson nodded. "I know. But I can't help thinking how rough it must -be."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"To take her first space flight and get involved in a blowup."</p> - -<p>"It will be an experience she'll never forget, but it shouldn't be too -hard on her. It isn't as though she were completely alone, you know."</p> - -<p>"No, I suppose not. She probably got out with anywhere from two to -eight others. A lot of those were—well, not real spacemen, but at -least they were regular space trippers. I—"</p> - -<p>A detector alarm rang and everybody jumped to the alert. Edwards -barked an order and one of the flight-techs darted off toward the -launching deck. There was no point in stopping the whole flight, for -any detection of matter would be investigated by one-man scooters. If -a lifeship should be found, an infrawave call would bring the search -flight hurrying back.</p> - -<p>This was not it. The flight-tech reported a small clutter of pebbles -and frozen gas. Probably a comet on its long, cold, dead swing near -aphelion.</p> - -<p>And the search went on....</p> - -<p>Charles Andrews snorted angrily and growled, "It's damned inefficient, -that's all I have to say."</p> - -<p>Pilot Jock Norton shrugged. "We're alive."</p> - -<p>"But why can't we pack on some power and get going somewhere?"</p> - -<p>"Because this is a lifeship and not an interstellar spacecraft. I told -you that before. D'ye expect a lifeship to be as big as the carrier?"</p> - -<p>"Don't be an imbecile."</p> - -<p>Norton towered over Andrews. "Don't be too bright, Andrews. Ships don't -founder once in a green-striped moon. The function of a lifeship is -to protect the customers until help can arrive. Our storage bank held -enough quick-power to counteract the speed of the lifeship, with a -safety factor. We've a small accumulator cell for temporary storage. It -ain't pheasant under glass and brandy, but we'll neither starve nor die -of asphyxiation. We're alive and healthy. So just wait it out. I told -you that, too."</p> - -<p>"I don't like it."</p> - -<p>"Do I sound as though I did?"</p> - -<p>"You seem to," Alice said reproachfully.</p> - -<p>Norton gave her a bland smile. "I didn't intend to imply that I was -in love with this clambake. Sure, it's a rough situation, but there's -little point in looking at the black side."</p> - -<p>"How long will this take?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Maybe a couple of days," he said easily. "Maybe as long as a week. -Maybe even more. But we'll be all right."</p> - -<p>"At a hundred dollars per hour," sneered Andrews.</p> - -<p>"It ain't hay."</p> - -<p>Andrews pulled a long pale cigar out and lit it with a flourish. -"Norton, tell you what <i>I</i> think of a hundred dollars per hour. I'll -take that week you mentioned as an outside limit and if you can do -something to get us home before that date, I'll pay you one thousand -dollars for every hour under that week."</p> - -<p>"Nuts!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Andrews said firmly, "Miss Hemingway, witness this, please. Do -something brilliant right this moment, Norton, and you'll collect seven -times twenty-four times one thousand dollars. Now that's what I call -not-hay."</p> - -<p>Norton growled angrily, "If there was anything I could do, I'd take you -up on that."</p> - -<p>"There probably is, if you'd only try to think."</p> - -<p>"I'm the space pilot," Norton pointed out. "And I'm telling you there -is nothing we can do about it."</p> - -<p>"All right. Forget it. Let's have something to eat."</p> - -<p>"We don't eat for an hour, Andrews."</p> - -<p>Charles Andrews puffed on his cigar. "Why not?" he asked softly.</p> - -<p>"Because we've got to conserve. It's in the book of rules."</p> - -<p>"Rules are made to be broken."</p> - -<p>"Not space rules. And I'm still skipper, you know."</p> - -<p>"No matter how—" Andrews was going to say "incompetent" but he stopped -short as Norton got lazily up out of his chair and came forward. -Andrews realized he could push Norton just so far, then the pilot would -lose his laziness and begin getting violent. Andrews could not stand up -to violence. He was not big enough. He was not young enough.</p> - -<p>Alice said calmly, "Stop it, both of you! You'll just make trouble for -all of us."</p> - -<p>Norton sat down again. Doggedly he said, "We'll eat in an hour."</p> - -<p>Andrews turned to Alice. "Miss Hemingway, are you, perhaps, a bit -hungry?"</p> - -<p>She shook her head quickly. "Frankly, I couldn't get it down and keep -it."</p> - -<p>"Then perhaps in an hour," said Andrews. "I was only thinking of your -comfort."</p> - -<p>Alice squirmed. Both of them were, in their own way, fighting to -control the situation. Andrews had just oozed out of the indignity of -having an order or request countermanded. Norton had just ignored an -implied insult.</p> - -<p>So long as they struggled, quietly, nothing would result but -well-rubbed nerves. But if open conflict broke out it might get rough -indeed.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">IV</p> - - -<p>Faren Twill looked across the table at Regin Naylo. They were alone, -and finally Twill voiced the thought uppermost in both of their minds:</p> - -<p>"This waiting is ridiculous, Regin."</p> - -<p>"I agree. In fact, the only point upon which we disagree is the -method. I say hit them hard, and with finality. You want to make an -equal-to-equal alliance with them."</p> - -<p>Faren shook his head. "Not really," he said. "No real alliance can ever -be possible between stellar races. The alliance I had in mind would be -patterned on the relationship between mother state and protectorate. -We supervise their laws, control their commerce, and apply a small but -adequate taxation to pay us for our service to them. Tariffs and duties -to be set up for a beneficial economy in our favor, and yet low enough -so that they can continue operating, only mildly limited. That sound -sensible to you?"</p> - -<p>"I think it can be carried out more efficiently than that," Regin Naylo -objected thoughtfully. "First we collect the lifeship nearest us, maybe -both of them. We sweep down along the line of search and wait in battle -pattern. Why, we can probably collect their entire fleet without firing -more than a couple of batteries. Then we have the survivors broadcast -on the blanketing infrawave that we are applying the rules of space -salvage and that redemption of their fleet is to cost some nominal -fee—er—say ten metric tons of uranium, nine-nines pure. After which -we take their captured fleet to the seat of their government and take -over. Then we are in a real position to make demands. None of this -simple taxation and commerce control. None of this mother state and -protectorate. This will be conqueror and vanquished."</p> - -<p>"Suppose they fight back?"</p> - -<p>"With what?" asked Naylo sarcastically. "Guided torpedoes and A-heads? -Faugh!"</p> - -<p>"They may have—"</p> - -<p>"Bet you a hat. If they haven't been able to use the infrawave bands -for space locating and detecting, they wouldn't get to first base -discovering the magnus forces."</p> - -<p>"You realize," said Twill, "that you're setting up a pattern of -violence that may never be resolved?"</p> - -<p>"No matter how you set up the meeting of cultures, you've started a -pattern of violence that can never be resolved. I say make 'em realize -right now that they are clobbered. And if they want fight, we'll give -it to 'em."</p> - -<p>Twill growled, "Not too long ago you were cautiously admitting that -elephants can be beaten by a pack of determined rats."</p> - -<p>"Until they put out more than that squadron of twenty-five spacecraft, -they're no real pack, compared to our task force."</p> - -<p>"You may be.... Hush!"</p> - -<p>The door opened. Viggon Sarri looking refreshed and alert, greeted, -"Good morning. You've heard the latest?"</p> - -<p>"What latest?"</p> - -<p>"We've probably located the destination-star. From one of the large -stars along the flight path of the original spacecraft there has formed -a second search squadron of twenty-five spacecraft. The infrawaves are -filled with calls back and forth, coordinating the search pattern."</p> - -<p>"How are they doing?"</p> - -<p>"Depends," replied Viggon Sarri, with a grin. "Poorly, if you mean -that their success looks imminent. But excellently, if you mean their -technique. They're really covering space like a blanket, slice by -slice. But they started on the wrong slice."</p> - -<p>Viggon's armlet buzzed tinnily and he said, "Yes? Go ahead."</p> - -<p>"This is Linus Brein. We have more of their language analogued."</p> - -<p>"I'll be right over." To his second officers Viggon said, "Want to come -along? This may be interesting."</p> - -<p>Naylo shook his head. "We've a bit of a problem to haggle over. We'll -be over to Brein's bailiwick later."</p> - -<p>"You might be missing something, but it's your decision."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>As soon as the door was closed behind Viggon, Naylo said, "I wonder if -he is getting chicken."</p> - -<p>"Don't let him hear you say that."</p> - -<p>"I won't. But haven't you wondered?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe," said Twill. "But it figures. Viggon Sarri has had a long and -successful career. He has expanded our realm more than any other one -man in history. He will go down in history as a valiant hero. He does -not care to spoil a good record."</p> - -<p>"Hah! You agree, then."</p> - -<p>Twill nodded soberly. He sneered, "Valiant! Hero! Sarri, the -Victorious! Eyewash. What's so glorious about conquering races that -fight back with slings and spears? What's so heroic about mowing down -a flight of airplanes or turning A-heads back on the senders? But now -that we have come upon a race that really has space travel developed to -a fine art—even though they have not exploited it much—Viggon wants -to wait. He's been pushing over children. Now that he's come up against -a half-baked adolescent, he's afraid."</p> - -<p>"What do you suggest?"</p> - -<p>Twill eyed Naylo soberly. "One of us is due to succeed the great Viggon -Sarri," he said flatly. "It may be you and it may be me. It will, -however, be the one who decides properly how to handle this race."</p> - -<p>"All right, then," Naylo grunted. "But it may be neither of us." He -scowled. "Unless you or I can talk the venerable gentleman into action -at once."</p> - -<p>"Right. Let's get started."</p> - -<p>Naylo grinned. "I hope you won't mind working as my second officer, -Faren."</p> - -<p>"You should see the day, Regin. I'll have you reporting to me before -we get home."</p> - -<p>But beneath the banter was an undertone of dead seriousness....</p> - -<p>Commodore Ted Wilson eyed the search grid unhappily. Out of the center -one thin hexagonal hole had been taken. It left such a lot of space to -be combed.</p> - -<p>The infrawave receiver in the Information Center was alive, and -chattering with data and information and orders. Finally came a call -for Wilson, from Flight Commander Hugh Weston from Castor.</p> - -<p>"Weston here, Ted. How's it coming?"</p> - -<p>"We've completed our first crossing. Nothing but a comet and a rather -insignificant gas cloud."</p> - -<p>"We're approaching you. Any suggestions?"</p> - -<p>"Let's make contact and carry this out together instead of running at -cross-purposes."</p> - -<p>"Meaning?"</p> - -<p>"No independent searching."</p> - -<p>"I think you're wrong," said Weston.</p> - -<p>"But we can do a better job of coverage if we combine all forces into -one big comb."</p> - -<p>"We could," replied Weston. "But do you realize that you'll probably -leave huge holes in your search grid?"</p> - -<p>"That's the point. I know we will. After about the fourth pass, we'll -not be too sure of where we are. God, how I wish we had some method of -pinpointing this absolute nothing! I wish the infrawave could be used -as detecting and ranging."</p> - -<p>"Make that double. But since we haven't got it, I suggest that we form -behind you. There'll be a third squadron from Pollux as soon as Wally -Wainright can get into space with his gang. I expect there'll be more, -too. We'll need 'em all. Out in this featureless void, we don't really -know where we are to any degree of accuracy. At least not the kind of -accuracy needed to find a thing as small as a spacecraft."</p> - -<p>"Lifeship."</p> - -<p>"Lifeship, spacecraft, both Godawful minute when lost in a few cubic -light years of space."</p> - -<p>"I still say we should combine."</p> - -<p>"I still think you should clean out one channel and let us take the -next."</p> - -<p>"Can't see it, Weston."</p> - -<p>"Okay, Ted. You're running this exercise. You're the boss. We combine. -We'll meet you where you are and reform before we make the return pass. -Right?"</p> - -<p>"Right, Hugh. I don't want to argue, but our master computer feels -we've a better chance at the laws of probability if we all comb along -the same line than if each takes a different course and we try to -correlate our positions by sheer stellar astrogation."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Poised in space, Wilson and his squadron waited. While they waited, -the astro-techs made star sightings and the computer mulled over -their readings and delivered opinions of several probable enclosures -of position. These volumes were horribly vast compared with the mote -of a spacecraft. They were spherical, indicating the margin of error -in precision-pinpointing their position in deep space. And as the -astro-techs delivered more and more angle sightings on the known stars, -the computer delivered smaller and smaller enclosures as their true -position.</p> - -<p>The problem was a matter of parallax, a matter of angular measurement -against the more distant, or "fixed" stars. Now, it may seem an easy -job to measure the angle of a star with respect to another star. But it -must be remembered that the parallax of the nearer stars, as measured -across the orbit of the earth, is a matter of seconds of arc.</p> - -<p>Parallax is not measured directly with a protractor. It is measured -by comparing the position of the star on a plate against a similar -photograph taken six months ago, using the fixed stars as the frame of -reference.</p> - -<p>In deep space, position is pinpointed by solid triangulation. This -can be represented by a pyramid suspended in space, the corners of -which end at the fixed stars. Take a pyramid of certain solid angles, -depended by points in space, and the apex can be satisfied for only one -spacial position. Repeat these solid-angle measurements and there are -several pyramids pointing their apexes toward the true position.</p> - -<p>But if the orbit of the Earth produces only a second or so of -parallax-arc, any error in angular measurement of such magnitude -produces an error of a thousand light seconds. And the greater the -error in measurement, the larger is the volume of uncertain position.</p> - -<p>This, then, was their problem. To cover, like a blanket, a volume of -space so vast as completely to defy description. All that can be said -of it is in comparison with a number of cubic light years. And who can -grasp the fathomless distance of a light year? It is just a meaningless -statement.</p> - -<p>Eventually the second squadron came up and the ships milled around -until a larger space pattern was formed. Then the two squadrons began -to return along the search grid, on a line overlapping that area -covered in the first pass along the computed line of flight....</p> - -<p>Alice Hemingway woke up from a fitful doze at the noise of the -infrawave receiver. Charles Andrews was listening to the rapid chatter -back and forth from one squadron to the next. He looked around, and -when he caught her eyes, he said cheerfully, "They're really out -looking for us."</p> - -<p>"I heard," she murmured.</p> - -<p>"Three squadrons, now. And a fourth is just heading out from Procyon. -We'll be picked up—"</p> - -<p>Jock Norton came awake with a cry. "Shut that damned thing off!" he -roared.</p> - -<p>"Why?" demanded Andrews belligerently.</p> - -<p>"It's a waste of power."</p> - -<p>"This thing?" sneered Andrews.</p> - -<p>"That thing. It draws one point three kilowatts. That's plenty -important for a lifeship."</p> - -<p>"Look," suggested Andrews, "why don't we call back and have 'em pick us -up?"</p> - -<p>"Because nobody has ever found any directional quality about the -infrawaves. That's why we can't use 'em for detecting, ranging, and -locating. If they echoed, we might be able to use 'em somehow. But -they're not even directional, let alone echoing. Not only that, but -they are instantaneous in transmission, so even if they did echo they -couldn't be used for ranging. So we'll not waste power howling for more -help. We spend a bit every hour, because we want to let 'em know we're -still alive. But let's not waste any more than we have to."</p> - -<p>Andrews shut off the infrawave receiver. "It was interesting," he said. -"But I suppose we can always assume that they are on the search." He -shivered. "Is it getting cold in here, or am I getting exhausted?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Norton smiled thinly. "Probably both. This space can isn't collecting -any heat. We're too far from any sun. And there aren't enough people in -it to keep it hot."</p> - -<p>"Huh?"</p> - -<p>"The average human puts out an average of about a thousand B.T.U. per -hour over a twenty-four hour day. It rises in activity and falls with -relaxing. But this can needs about five people to keep up the heat -against the black body radiation from the hull."</p> - -<p>"What do we do? Freeze?"</p> - -<p>"One thing we can do. We can use the pedal generator."</p> - -<p>"For what?"</p> - -<p>"Two things. One is to charge up the energy cells. The other is that a -human body in vigorous work can deliver as high as two thousand B.T.U. -per hour. Although I doubt if any human body can keep up that kind of -vigor for a full hour. If you're cold, you can easily warm up, Andrews."</p> - -<p>"Why doesn't this tin can have a small pile?"</p> - -<p>"Why doesn't a steamship lifeboat have a turbine?"</p> - -<p>"I've seen some very small piles and generating gear."</p> - -<p>Norton shook his head. "A lifeship is aimed at providing the maximum -protection for a maximum number of people, under a minimum of luxury. -Stop whining. We're still alive, I keep telling you."</p> - -<p>"At," sneered Andrews, "a hundred bucks an hour."</p> - -<p>"Are you going to argue, or do you want to try some vigor for that bad -temper of yours?"</p> - -<p>"We've got some power left over from the bank," suggested Andrews. -"Let's use that."</p> - -<p>"Not on your life. That's reserve. Sooner or later we're going to use -it for radio pulses."</p> - -<p>"Radio pulses?"</p> - -<p>"For fine control direction-finding and locating."</p> - -<p>Andrews snorted. "How are they going to pick up radio pulses when -they're going thirty or forty parsecs an hour?"</p> - -<p>"They use gravitic mass detectors. As soon as someone gets a register, -they send one of the scouts out to drop below light and listen for -radio pulses. If he hears any, then the whole search squadron stops and -starts really to comb the neighborhood with radar."</p> - -<p>Andrews shivered again. "I'll try that generator," he said. "Could we -pedal enough juice to run the drivers?"</p> - -<p>Norton laughed. "Sure. Like you could row a battleship with a rusty -broom handle. Have you got the remotest idea of how far we are from -anything?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Neither have I."</p> - -<p>"All right. Where's your damned exercising machine?"</p> - -<p>"Below. I'll show you. I want to cut the paragrav generator by half, -anyway."</p> - -<p>"Paragrav?"</p> - -<p>"Pseudo-gravity," said Norton crisply. "You've noticed there's still an -up and down? That's it. But the damned thing radiates heat like mad, -along with producing its gravitic field. I want to conserve all the -heat we can. With a full complement of survivors, this space can stay -more than comfortably warm. But with only three, it radiates more than -is comfortable. Come on, Andrews. I'll show you this crate, too."</p> - -<p>Alice felt the gravitic pull diminish, and then Norton was back in the -main room of the lifeship. He came over and sat down beside her.</p> - -<p>"Cold, kid?"</p> - -<p>Alice shivered. "Just a little. Is this going to get worse?"</p> - -<p>"Probably, but not too much. If we all exercise heavily, keep the pedal -generator going, and eat heartily, we'll not fight too losing a battle -against radiation."</p> - -<p>She shivered again. Jock put a large but gentle hand on her shoulder. -"Let me warm you a bit," he said softly.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Alice looked at him cynically. "I'm not that cold," she told him. She -did not move, but the tone of her voice made him remove his hand from -her shoulder.</p> - -<p>He smiled at her. "You're likely to be eventually."</p> - -<p>"Maybe. But there are blankets, and I'm not above taking a turn on that -pedal generator myself, you know."</p> - -<p>"It's no job for a woman, Alice."</p> - -<p>She sniffed contemptuously. "This is no place for woman or man," she -said. "But I can pull my own weight, Mr. Norton."</p> - -<p>"You're a solid character," he said.</p> - -<p>"I've always thought so."</p> - -<p>"This is going to get rougher, Alice. Can't we be a little more -friendly?"</p> - -<p>"Meaning what?" she snapped icily.</p> - -<p>"Meaning only that you deserve better than that Napoleon type down -there."</p> - -<p>Alice laughed in a brittle tone. "And you're it?"</p> - -<p>"I'll be a lot more fun."</p> - -<p>"No doubt. And nothing but fun. What do you expect to do when the fun -becomes hollow?"</p> - -<p>"It hasn't yet."</p> - -<p>"It will some day. You can't go on being a slightly irresponsible -loafer all your life."</p> - -<p>"Who is?"</p> - -<p>"You are."</p> - -<p>"Look," said Jock Norton angrily, "I'm still running this lifeship the -way it's supposed to be run."</p> - -<p>"At a hundred an hour."</p> - -<p>"Maybe so. But let me ask you, which one of us would you rather have -around right now? The trained spaceman or the captain of industry?"</p> - -<p>"That's a fool question," said Alice. "Loaded to the gills. You know -the answer to that. But once we get back home, then?"</p> - -<p>"You're not hoping to marry that dried-up little—"</p> - -<p>Alice laughed, almost hysterically.</p> - -<p>"This will kill you, but until you assumed that I was sleeping with -him as well as taking his dictation, I hadn't really looked upon -Charles Andrews as anything but an employer. Sure, he's male. So is -my Uncle Ned, my brother, and my nephew. Not to mention my father and -grandfather. But Mr. Andrews is not my idea of a lover."</p> - -<p>Jock Norton nodded soberly. He took a deep breath of satisfaction. -Alice underwent a swift revision in his mental classification of her. -She changed from a luxury-bought mistress to be seduced by the offer of -real fun and passion into a woman with no emotional connections, to be -seduced for the fun of it. Both, in Norton's mind, were fair game.</p> - -<p>"What's wrong with me?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Nothing much, Jock Norton, except that you're essentially lazy."</p> - -<p>"Lazy?"</p> - -<p>"Lazy," she repeated. "Want it both barrels, or will you take it with -sugar?"</p> - -<p>"Hard. What's wrong with me?"</p> - -<p>"You're educated. You know a lot. You've explained things that neither -Mr. Andrews nor I had ever dreamed of, let alone understood. You know -your way around spacecraft, know a lot of the basic sciences. Not that -you'd ever be a scientist, but you're bright enough to grasp the idea -and make it work. But what do you do about it? You jockey a spacer, -instead of digging in and making it pay off. You look for the easy way -out instead of working for it." Alice looked up at him sharply to see -how he was taking it, and then she added, "You have the only brain -present that has the mental right to stand up and direct operations. -Instead, you argue and backstep."</p> - -<p>Harshly he said, "What would you have me do—take a swing at Napoleon -when he sits on those short hind legs of his and objects or demands?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. I'm not a spaceman, responsible for the lives of three -people—at a hundred clams an hour."</p> - -<p>"Some day I'm going to shove those hundred fish down your throat."</p> - -<p>"Do. And I'll spit 'em back at you!"</p> - -<p>Norton roughly took her shoulders in his hands. He twisted her to face -him, clamped down on her soft shoulders until she turned her face up -to complain with welling eyes. He put his lips on hers and tried to -force some warmth into them. She submitted calmly, and when he found no -response and opened his eyes, she was staring at him vacantly.</p> - -<p>Abruptly he let her go. She relaxed in the seat.</p> - -<p>"I'm not afraid to work," he said in a hollow voice.</p> - -<p>"Prove it," she replied flatly.</p> - -<p>He got up, left her there, and went below.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">V</p> - - -<p>Wilson sat in the Information Center and eyed the search grid glumly. -It stretched stereoscopically out in the room, a lot of its vacant -network of gleaming white lines frosted over with white shading, to -mark where the search had covered.</p> - -<p>There were a lot of untouched spaces—a horde, a myriad. On the side -wall was a chart, showing that nine squadrons of twenty-five spacecraft -each were patrolling back and forth through the uncharted wastes, -seeking the space-wrecked lifeships.</p> - -<p>The maddening part was the hourly report from both lifeships. It was -like someone hiding in the dark and calling for aid, invisible and -alone. And not really calling for aid, but only making whimpering -noises. For the signaling equipment on the lifeships was not equipped -with the complicated infrawave phone, but only with the simple -signal-emitter, coded to transmit the identification call of the unit.</p> - -<p>On the hour they came in, calling three times, "Lifeship Seventy-nine, -Seventy-nine, Number Three." Number Two had not been heard from. -Presumably it was not in use, or hadn't made the grade.</p> - -<p>Wilson chewed his fingernails and fretted. Was Alice on Number One or -Number Three, or was she on Number Two and it had foundered?</p> - -<p>If she were still alive, what kind of fellow survivors were with her?</p> - -<p>He hoped she was with a group. If she had blown out in a lifeship with -only one other—well, Ted Wilson did not like the idea. Of course, it -was more customary than not for a young woman to love lightly before -she mated permanently. There was a lot less chance of wading into -matrimony wide-eyed and ignorant of what it was all about.</p> - -<p>But Wilson, if willing to face such transient loving at all, would -have preferred that Alice have her chance to pick and choose, rather -than have the matter thrust upon her in the middle of a threatening -situation. The passion that comes with the shadow of death is only the -instinct of racial preservation, and it mates men and women unsuited to -one another during subsequent peace and quiet.</p> - -<p>Above all, he did not want Alice to emerge from this moment of personal -danger morally bound to some unsuitable mate because of a child -conceived under the shadow of the sword!</p> - -<p>Hourly, after the coded signals came in, Ted Wilson took the microphone -himself and called out into space in the infrawave. He called messages -of hope, and explained how many spacecraft were scouring the deep black -void. He could only pray that he would be heard, that his voice would -give Alice some firm foundation for hope.</p> - -<p>He could not be sure the passengers from the wrecked spaceship even had -their receivers turned on, because infrawave receivers drink up a lot -of power and lifeships are not equipped with any vast reserve. There -just was not the room in a lifeship for anything more than the bare -necessities of living.</p> - -<p>The search grid was a truncated cone, and the whitened areas of -finished search had finally filled the smaller end of the cone. There -was the flared skirt of the cone yet to be combed, and this provided -more volume than the cylinder taken out of the middle. It also provided -a shorter search path as the searching spacecraft built out the volume, -ring after ring around the first pass along the line of flight.</p> - -<p>Far, far to one side a detector registered, and brought every man -in the fleet to the alert. Then they relaxed unhappily again as the -scooter returned with another report of a small gas cloud. Wilson -thought glumly that they had discovered enough space meteors, gas -clouds, and unawakened comets to make up a small sun.</p> - -<p>Then his attention was taken from his own personal troubles by the -arrival of another squadron from Centauri. He found himself busy -readjusting the search pattern to accommodate this new contingent.</p> - -<p>He eyed the pattern in the stereo and hoped it was good enough.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There was the basic aggregate of nine full squadrons spread out flat in -a space lattice that ran back and forth from narrow end to wide end of -the cone of probability. There was one full squadron of roving ships -that went aimlessly back and forth across the pattern, just to cope -with the happenstance factor.</p> - -<p>One squadron was parked at either end of the search grid as space -markers, with a computer ship at either end to maintain a constant -check on their space coordinates. The big search pattern shuttled from -one end to the other, and if they came back to miss the marker ships, -they retraced their path so that no space went uncombed.</p> - -<p>The infrawave chattered and Space Admiral Stone was calling for -Commodore Theodore Wilson.</p> - -<p>"How're you coming?"</p> - -<p>Wilson replied, "We're still at it, Admiral. So far we haven't seen -her."</p> - -<p>"Don't forget, Wilson, there's more lost out there than the woman you -want."</p> - -<p>Ted wanted to snap back angrily, but all he said was, "You don't mind -if I take this search personally, do you, Admiral Stone? I'm not -overlooking any bets, but I do admit that Miss Hemingway is a bit more -important to me than any of the rest."</p> - -<p>"No, I suppose no one could blame you for that. Just keep it up, -Wilson."</p> - -<p>"Sure," Ted said wearily. "After all, this is a black and white job I'm -on. Either we'll be successful—or we won't."</p> - -<p>"Luck."</p> - -<p>"Spaceman's luck, Admiral."</p> - -<p>Wilson went back to his brooding....</p> - -<p>Charles Andrews came back into the salon with a brisk air. He -flexed his arms, took a deep breath, and mopped his forehead with a -handkerchief. He sat down beside Alice and smiled at her warmly.</p> - -<p>"That thing is a wonder worker," he said, breathing deeply. "Nothing -like exercise to make a man feel fine and fit."</p> - -<p>Alice looked up at him with some amusement. "Mr. Andrews, tell me. Are -you the kind of man who opens the window on a winter morning about six -o'clock, and takes deep lungsful of icy air?"</p> - -<p>"Not quite that bad, my dear. Not quite. But brisk living does keep a -man sharp and hard. I daresay I acquitted myself well on that pedal -generator despite my fifty years."</p> - -<p>"No doubt."</p> - -<p>Andrews chuckled. "I'll do better than our young pilot friend. The man -is big, and should be muscular, but he is soft from lack of exercise. -Yet he'll attempt to stay there longer than I did, I guess."</p> - -<p>"No doubt."</p> - -<p>He eyed her sharply, not missing her repetitious dry reply.</p> - -<p>"Which, incidentally," he said, "gives me my first chance to speak with -you alone since we took off from Earth."</p> - -<p>"That's so. But—"</p> - -<p>"Miss Hemingway, you are an exceedingly brisk young woman, attractive -and intelligent. May I ask if you have ever taken a lover?"</p> - -<p>"Why, no."</p> - -<p>"Never considered it?"</p> - -<p>She smiled thinly. "Naturally. All women think about it. Most do. -I—er—"</p> - -<p>Alice let her voice trail away uncertainly. The direct, frontal attack -had put her off-balance, but she realized that this was Andrews' direct -way.</p> - -<p>He had smiled at her uncertainty, and said swiftly, "Then may I be the -first—" when he noted the fading amusement in her face and glibly ad -libbed—"to congratulate you on your choice of young men? The space -commodore to whom you bade farewell in Chicago was an up and coming -man, I'd assume."</p> - -<p>"I rather imagine he's out here somewhere in the search group," she -said.</p> - -<p>"He may even be directing it," Andrews said carefully.</p> - -<p>One thing he knew well—never run down a rival. It always brought on -a defensive attitude. Build the rival up, and the return might be -sympathetic. A clever course could be traveled between build-up and -tear-down.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Looking at Alice thoughtfully, Andrews got up and began to rummage -through a few lockers. Eventually he found a blanket and brought it to -her.</p> - -<p>"I'm not too familiar with these life cans," he told her, with a -disarming smile. "I hope I remain in ignorance of them. But I found -what I was after. Now, Miss Hemingway, if you'll stretch out, I'll tuck -you in, and you can get some shut-eye."</p> - -<p>"That I can use," she said honestly.</p> - -<p>The blanket felt good. So did his hands, smoothing out the blanket, but -being carefully tender and proper. Andrews was a smooth operator of -many years' experience.</p> - -<p>Eventually she slept.</p> - -<p>Andrews found another cigar, and smoked it languidly, his eyes roaming -around the metal walls of the cabin. He was thinking that he disliked -Jack Norton immensely, although he knew that chances of survival were -better with Norton's boorish, interfering presence than without. He was -bored, he was angry, he was above all resentful of the time wasted in -this spacewreck business....</p> - -<p>An orderly tapped Commodore Wilson on the shoulder. "Message from -Terra," he said.</p> - -<p>Wilson groaned and reached for the telephone beside his bunk. "Wilson -here," he said. "Go ahead!"</p> - -<p>"Admiral Stone. Wilson, a new ship is on the way. I want you to get -into this thing fully, so I'm briefing you now."</p> - -<p>"New type of ship?"</p> - -<p>"Well, not a new ship, but some new equipment. The Infrawave Section of -the Space Department Radiation Laboratory has some experimental gear -they want to try in actual service."</p> - -<p>"Experimental gear?"</p> - -<p>"Sheer experiment, Wilson. It's supposed to be an infrawave detecting -and ranging device. It's shown low grade response so far, and it may -be entirely useless to you. But Radiation feels that even something -incomplete and erratic may be better than going it blind."</p> - -<p>Wilson sat up, interested. "How does it work?"</p> - -<p>"Darned if I know. It took a whole cruiser class to carry the junk -that makes it tick. It's piled in with twine and baling wire, and when -the crate took off the advanced techs were still connecting cables and -adjusting the guts. Er—how're you feeling?"</p> - -<p>"Tired and frustrated."</p> - -<p>"Mind a bad joke?"</p> - -<p>"Well—"</p> - -<p>"Go on and have a laugh, Wilson. This gizmo reminded me of the new -machine that made shoes so fast that it put twelve shoemakers out of -work—and it took only eighteen men to run it."</p> - -<p>A silence ensued. Then Stone said:</p> - -<p>"Well, Wilson, I thought you'd like to know we're pouring the best -we've got into space for you. Ship should be along in another hour or -two."</p> - -<p>"Yeah—thanks, Admiral Stone. And the joke was funny, at least the -first time I heard it, it was. I'll get on the cubes and wait for the -ship."</p> - -<p>Wearily Commodore Ted Wilson climbed out of his bunk and began to -dress....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Viggon Sarri said, "Now we know more about this race. They definitely -are of the class where the individual is of extreme importance to -the whole. This belies both the communal, or insect type and the -anarchistic, or individualistic type. The quantity of men and machinery -they are pouring into this search is amazing."</p> - -<p>"They aren't much closer to success," offered Regin Naylo. "And we're -wasting time."</p> - -<p>"You think so?"</p> - -<p>"We both think so," Faren Twill said firmly.</p> - -<p>"Oh?" Viggon Sarri looked at them in surprise. "Then maybe I have the -wrong idea. Let me hear your suggestions."</p> - -<p>Twill and Naylo looked at one another, fencing with their eyes. Finally -Twill nodded and said, "You say it, Regin."</p> - -<p>"It's already been said." Regin Naylo looked pointedly at Linus Brein. -"A day or so ago you claimed that you'd picked up some primitive -infrawave emission that looked as though someone might be trying to -develop a detecting and ranging device."</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Then it is my contention that any moves we make against this race -should be made before anybody down there gets such a detector and -ranger working."</p> - -<p>"Why?" demanded Viggon Sarri.</p> - -<p>Regin Naylo looked at his commander. "We're losing a technical -advantage. Whether we go in with a benign and peaceful-looking air and -show them how big and fast we are, or whether we plunge in and hit 'em -with every battery we've got and reduce 'em to submission, we've got to -do it before anybody succeeds in making an infrawave space detector. -Understand?"</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri looked from one to the other, grimly. "You believe I'm -wasting time? Is that it?"</p> - -<p>The two aides answered together, "Yes!" and "Absolutely!"</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri said, "I am still in command of this force. We'll continue -to observe until I am satisfied. You two officers have one common -idea—that of moving in fast. You have differing ideas of how we are -to move in. Until you can settle your difference and provide me with a -good logical basis for your decision—whichever way—then we'll follow -my plan. And my plan is to move in just as soon as we have enough data -on the character and strength of this race to provide us with the -correct way to take them."</p> - -<p>"Then you are going to continue stalling?" demanded Naylo.</p> - -<p>"Yes, if you wish to call it stalling. Maybe another man might call it -planning."</p> - -<p>"We'll be just wasting time, as I've already said. We have enough stuff -to take 'em right now."</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri shrugged. "Yes. We could swoop in and take them like -mowing down a wheat field. Tell me, young men, what happens when you -mow down a wheat field."</p> - -<p>They looked at him blankly.</p> - -<p>Viggon smiled in a superior manner. "One of two things, depending upon -how you operate. If you mow it down and let it lay, you drop seeds and -next year it comes up thicker. If you mow it down, remove the seeds, -sow it with salt and kill the field, you have a useless plot of land, a -worthless territory. Then some day up comes weed and briar—which then -must be removed root and branch before the land is plantable again. -Just remember, we are after a profitable exchange of economy, not -another stellar system to list as a conquest for the sake of history -our children will read. I want my reward now, or next week. Having my -name on a monument does not have much appeal."</p> - -<p>He was half standing with his hands closed into fists, his knuckles on -the table supporting him as he leaned forward to drive his facts home.</p> - -<p>"Or," he added scathingly, "are you two firebrands so youthful that you -don't know that a man has only one single lone chance at this business -of living? And that your finest reward at eventide is knowing you have -lived a full and eventful life without screwing it up somewhere along -the line by making a lot of idiotic moves?"</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri turned on a heel and walked out.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Naylo and Twill turned to Linus Brein.</p> - -<p>"What do you think?" Twill asked.</p> - -<p>Linus Brein shrugged. "He is undoubtedly right. Besides, we don't know -all there is to know about the strange race out there yet."</p> - -<p>"Oh, faugh! What else—"</p> - -<p>Linus Brein smiled. He said slowly. "We don't even know whether or not -they are oxygen-breathing."</p> - -<p>"We can assume from the stellar type of their primaries that they are."</p> - -<p>Linus nodded. "Probably, but not positively."</p> - -<p>Regin Naylo said, "And what's second, Linus?"</p> - -<p>"They may be contraterrene."</p> - -<p>"Seetee?"</p> - -<p>Linus Brein nodded. "In which case from both sides we must watch our -steps. Get involved with a seetee race the wrong way and you have two -cultures with absolutely nothing in common but a life-factor, busy -tossing chunks of their own kind of matter at one another in a fight -to exterminate. So before either of you start making half-baked plans, -you'd better get your heads together and plan something that sounds -reasonable to the Big Boss. Right?"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">VI</p> - - -<p>Commodore Wilson eyed the spacecraft full of hastily assembled -instruments with a grimace. The ship was swarming with techs who were -peering into oscilloscopes, watching meters, and tinkering with signal -generators. A huge concave hemispherical dome above was a splatter of -little flickering green pinpoints and dark patches.</p> - -<p>"This idea is hopelessly haywire," Wilson said unhappily.</p> - -<p>"It sure is," said Space-Tech Maury Allison. "But everything is, at -first."</p> - -<p>"You hope to make something out of it?"</p> - -<p>"We hope," replied Allison. "We can't be sure."</p> - -<p>"But surely this pile of junk has been tested before?"</p> - -<p>Allison nodded.</p> - -<p>"Any results?"</p> - -<p>"Some. We've had as much as five minutes of constant operation out of -it."</p> - -<p>As he spoke, the hemisphere over their heads flashed a full bright -green, then went black. A bell tinkled somewhere and a couple of techs -dropped their tools and headed for the back room on the double. A -couple of others stood up from their work and lit cigarettes because -their instruments had gone dead. Some of the rest continued to nurse -their particular circuits because that section was still running.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p>The dome became a riot of flaming green.</p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>After scanning the operation to see which section had gone blooey, -Allison went on. "We've never tested this outfit under anything -but ideal conditions. We've had spacecraft sent out to specified -distances, fired up the gizmo and found fragments of response right -where there should be a response."</p> - -<p>"That's hardly fair, is it?" commented Wilson.</p> - -<p>"It's a start. You have to start somewhere. Radio—know its start? -The first message was sent across the ocean a few hundred years ago -from one man to the other after they had made a complete plan as to -time, date, location and frequency, and also the transmitted message. -Sure enough, they got through. That, too, was under the ideal test -conditions. So when we finally assembled the half-a-hundred separate -circuits and devices that made it look as though we might have a space -detector, we put up targets, aimed our equipment, and looked for a -response where there should be one."</p> - -<p>"We don't know where our target is," objected Wilson.</p> - -<p>"And we haven't yet fired up this equipment to seek a target of unknown -position and range," admitted Allison. "But this gear is better than -nothing."</p> - -<p>Again the green spots flickered in the dome over their heads.</p> - -<p>"What do all those spots mean?" asked Wilson.</p> - -<p>"Those are false targets, probably caused by background noise. Although -the infrawave is noiseless, we still seem to be getting it. Dr. -Friedrich disagrees. He claims this is not noise, but interferences. -However, the good doctor is not at all certain that the so-called -interferences come from localized conditions within the equipment or -from external sources."</p> - -<p>Wilson shrugged. "I don't see how it's done with a radiation type that -has neither a directional quality nor a velocity of propagation."</p> - -<p>"Do you understand Accum?"</p> - -<p>"I stopped shortly before Matrix. Accumulative Math is so much pothooks -on a sheet of paper to me."</p> - -<p>"Um. Then I'd find it hard to explain. The theory seems to be -demonstrable, and the accumulative mathematics upholds the -experimental evidence. But there hasn't yet been an acceptable verbal -description of what happens."</p> - -<p>"I've often wondered, leaving the nondirectional quality out of it, -why we couldn't cut our emitting power and somehow compute range by -observing the incoming power from a distant infrawave transmitter."</p> - -<p>Allison shook his head. "Oddly enough, the matrix mathematics that -deal with radiation shows that for any hypothetical radiation with an -infinite velocity of propagation, there can be no attenuation with -distance."</p> - -<p>"Meaning that we should be able to transmit all the way from here to -hell and back."</p> - -<p>"Not exactly. Infrawave radiation comes in quanta, you know. A kilowatt -covers two point one, seven nine three six plus parsecs. Two kilowatts -covers twice that distance minus the ninth root of two point, seven -nine three six plus. Three kilowatts covers three times two point et -cetera, minus two times the ninth root." Allison shrugged and spread -his hands.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"And so on it goes," he said, "indicating that at some devilish -distance—I've forgotten the figure but we had the master computer chew -it out on the big machine at Radiation once—an additional kilowatt -just shoves the signal coverage distance out by a micron. But if you -don't put in your honest kilowatt, you don't excite the infraspace that -carries infrawaves. And if you put in a kilowatt and a half, you have -to dissipate the half."</p> - -<p>Wilson grunted. "Nice to have things come out even. Who'd have thunk -that the Creator wanted the Terran kilowatt to equal one quanta of -infrawave distance?"</p> - -<p>Allison laughed. "Poor argument, Commodore Wilson. Actually, the figure -is point nine, eight three four plus. Close, but no cigar. We've -just come to accept the figure as a kilowatt, just as for everyday -calculation we accept the less refined figure of two point, one eight -parsecs, or even two point, two. At any rate—"</p> - -<p>There was a puff of something, and a sound like the puncture of a tire. -The green speckles on the dome merged with one another and became -a riot of flaming green. There were shouts and cries and a lot of -haphazard orders and several techs scrambled to snap toggle switches.</p> - -<p>Down the room one of the techs went head-first into a rack with a pair -of pliers and a soldering iron. He backed out carrying a smoking little -shapeless thing that had lost any character it once possessed. The tech -picked up a nice, shiny new doodad from a small box and went into the -rack again. When he came out this time he gave a hoarse cheer. Toggles -were snapped back and the spreckles reappeared.</p> - -<p>One of the techs came up to Allison and said, "See that spot up there, -sir? The one just this side of the eighty-one degree longitude circle, -and a little below the forty-five latitude ring?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>It was a small round disc no more than an inch in diameter.</p> - -<p>"We think that may be a response."</p> - -<p>Wilson said, "You mean a target? Possibly one of the lifeships?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"I'll have a scooter go out and see. What's its spacial position?"</p> - -<p>The tech took another look. "I'd say eighty-one plus longitude and -forty-three latitude."</p> - -<p>"From what?" demanded Wilson.</p> - -<p>"From ship's axis, sir."</p> - -<p>"Distance?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, about half a parsec."</p> - -<p>Wilson groaned. "Haven't you determined any spacial attitude?"</p> - -<p>"Attitude, sir?"</p> - -<p>"The angle of the ship's axis with respect to the stellar positions. -So you've a blotch out there at half a parsec. It's an inch or so in -diameter. Have one of your juniors run off some trig on the calculator -and then tell me how much probable space volume that so-called response -represents."</p> - -<p>The tech thought a minute. "We've never run this gear anywhere -but at Radiation, right at Mojave labs, on Earth. Our spacial -coordinates—well, I'm afraid we—" His voice trailed away unhappily.</p> - -<p>Wilson picked up the interphone and barked a call.</p> - -<p>"Weston? Look, Hugh, can you get over here quick with a couple of your -top astrogators? We've got a bunch of longhairs with a fancy infrawave -detector and ranger, but the damned coordinates are set axially with -the ship."</p> - -<p>He listened to Hugh Weston's reply.</p> - -<p>"Yeah," he said then. "We know where the target is with respect to the -ship, but we don't know the spacial attitude of the ship with respect -to the galactic check points. Right over? Good."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>As Wilson hung up the dome flickered, then went into a regular -<i>flash-flash-flash</i> until something else came unglued and the dome -went blank. There was shouting and rather heart-felt cussing, and some -running around again before the dome light came back.</p> - -<p>A tech—not the one that had come up before—moved into place alongside -the commodore.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Wilson, sir," he said, "I wonder if—er—That is, sir—er—"</p> - -<p>"Take it easy," said Wilson, half-smiling.</p> - -<p>"Well, sir, we've been getting a lot of interference."</p> - -<p>Wilson looked up at the flickering dome. He merely nodded.</p> - -<p>"Well, sir—er—I was wondering if you could issue some—er—order to -have the other ships move away? I'm sure we could find those lifeships -if the rest of space were clear. But you've got three hundred—"</p> - -<p>Wilson stared the youngster down coldly. "Somewhere out there," he said -sourly, "are two lifeships in which men, and a woman, are waiting for -us to come and collect 'em. I'm combing space almost inch by inch. I -can hardly give up my squadron for a half-finished flash in the dome -like this, can I?"</p> - -<p>"No sir—ah—I suppose not."</p> - -<p>"Then you live with the responses tossed back by my squadron. It'll be -good training for you. Er—get the hell out of my way!"</p> - -<p>The junior tech melted out of sight and went back to his control panel.</p> - -<p>Weston came over within the hour. Ted Wilson explained the situation -and told Hugh to set up and measure the coordinates with respect to -the stellar centers. Then he told him to send a space scooter out to -investigate that spot.</p> - -<p>Wilson went back to his own flagship wondering whether that fancy -infrawave detector would turn out to be anything. An untried doodad. -But now and then—</p> - -<p>Wearily again, Commodore Wilson called Commander Hatch, who skippered -one of the scout carriers. He told Hatch to make himself available -either to Hugh Weston or Maury Allison, to investigate infrawave -response targets as they saw fit.</p> - -<p>Then Wilson hit the sack to finish his off-duty.</p> - -<p>He dozed fitfully, but he did not sleep worth a damn. He would have -been better off if he could have taken the controls of one of the -spacers and gone out himself. Then, at least, he would have something -to fill his mind and idle hands....</p> - -<p>Alice Hemingway awoke from a rather pleasant dream that had something -to do with either ice skating or skiing, or it might have been -tobogganing—the dream had faded so fast she could not be sure—to face -the fact that she was feeling on the chill side.</p> - -<p>Her blanket had slipped. She caught it around her, and in minutes -felt fairly warm again. It was not so much, she thought, the actual -temperature in the lifeship, but the whole damned attitude of people, -and everything else that was so chilling.</p> - -<p>The lights were running all right, and from deep below she could hear -the ragged throb of the pedal generator. She wondered which of the two -men was pumping it this time.</p> - -<p>When Jock Norton came in, she knew. He was mopping his face with a -towel. He looked clean and bright, freshly shaved.</p> - -<p>She looked at him and wished she could have a hot shower herself, and a -change of clothing. She wanted a ten-hour sleep in a nice soft bed with -clean sheets, too, and wearing a silk-soft nightgown.</p> - -<p>"Awake, Alice?" Norton asked brightly.</p> - -<p>"Awake again," she said unhappily. "For.... What is it? The ninth day?"</p> - -<p>"Eighth," he said. "Can't go on much longer."</p> - -<p>"I hope not."</p> - -<p>"You look all in," he said softly. He sat down on the edge of the -divan, beside her, and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Take it -easy, m'lady. They're really scouring space for us. We'll be all right. -You'll see."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Unexpectedly he bent and kissed her chastely on the forehead. Alice -tensed at first, but relaxed almost immediately because the warmth of -that honest affection made her feel less alone and cold, in the depths -of uncharted space. Some of the worry and concern was erased, at least. -She stretched warmly as he rubbed her forehead with his cheek.</p> - -<p>Then he sat up and looked down at her. He put his hand on her cheek -gently and said, "We'll be all right, kid."</p> - -<p>"Eight days," she said in a hoarse whisper.</p> - -<p>He nodded solemnly. "Every hour means they must be coming closer and -closer. Every lonely hour means that it can't be many more, because -they've covered all the places where we weren't. Follow me, Alice?"</p> - -<p>She shook her head unhappily.</p> - -<p>Doggedly he tried to explain. "They know that we must lie within a -certain truncated conical volume of space. They comb this space bit by -bit and chart it. Since the volume is known, and since it takes so many -hours of work to comb a given volume, that means that at the end of a -given time all the predicted volume of space has been covered. Since we -must lie within that, we are bound to be picked up before they cover -the last cubic mile."</p> - -<p>"But how long?" she breathed.</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't know," he told her honestly. "I have no possible way of -computing it. They've got the best of computers and plotters, and -they've got the law of probabilities on their side. But it's dead -certain we'll be found."</p> - -<p>"I hope."</p> - -<p>"I know," he said.</p> - -<p>"You've changed, Jock Norton."</p> - -<p>"Changed?"</p> - -<p>"You looked on this as a lark, before."</p> - -<p>"Not exactly," he objected.</p> - -<p>"But you did."</p> - -<p>Slowly he shook his head. "Not exactly," he repeated. "I don't think -I've changed at all. I still think that when you're faced with -something inevitable you might as well look at it from the more -cheerful side. After all, there was the chance that we might not have -made it this far, you know. Now, tell me honestly, does it make sense -getting all worried-up by thinking of how horrible it would have been -if we'd been caught back there when Seventy-nine blew up?"</p> - -<p>"I suppose not."</p> - -<p>"Well, then," he said in a semi-cheerful tone, "since we did make it -out safely, and are still waiting after eight days, we might as well -expect to be collected soon."</p> - -<p>Charles Andrews said, from behind him, "At a hundred dollars an hour, -Norton?"</p> - -<p>Norton turned around angrily. "So it's the hundred clams per," he -snapped back. "That's damned poor payment for having to live with the -likes of you in a space can this cramped."</p> - -<p>Andrews eyed the pilot with distaste. "Tell me," he said smoothly, -"did my last effort on the pedal generator go for power storage, or -for a couple of gallons of hot water for that shave and shower you've -enjoyed?"</p> - -<p>Norton stretched and stood up. "I figured that having a clean face -might help morale," he said pointedly.</p> - -<p>"You're a cheap, chiseling—"</p> - -<p>"Easy, Andrews! Easy. There's a lady present. Besides, I might forget -my easy-going nature and take a swing at you."</p> - -<p>Andrews said scornfully, "Without a doubt, a man of your age and build -could wipe up the lifeship with me."</p> - -<p>Norton chuckled. "Don't count on your age being good protection, -Andrews. You may push me far enough to make me forget that you're a -decrepit old man who has to buy what your physique can't get you."</p> - -<p>"Now see here!" roared Andrews.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He was stopped short by Norton who took one long step forward to grasp -him by the coat lapels. Andrews' face went white, because he was -looking into the face of dark anger. Norton's other hand was clenched -in a large, tight fist. He eyed the older man sourly for a minute, then -shoved him backward to collapse in a chair.</p> - -<p>"What are you trying to do?" sneered Norton. "Make me mad enough to -clip you so you can yell 'Foul!'? I know as well as you do that the law -doesn't even recognize taunts and tongue-lashings as contributory to -assault."</p> - -<p>Alice got up from her couch and stood between them. "Stop it, both of -you!" she cried. "Stop it!"</p> - -<p>Norton's anger subsided. "All right," he said to Andrews. "Now that -we've all had our lungs exercised, I'll go below and pedal that -generator. Alice, you can have the bathroom first. Andrews, you take it -with what she leaves. Is that okay?"</p> - -<p>"Aren't you the hard-working little Boy Scout?"</p> - -<p>"Sure." Norton grinned. "I am that." He disappeared down the ladder -towards the generator room.</p> - -<p>Andrews turned to Alice. "You're not going to go for that fancy -routine, are you?" he demanded crossly.</p> - -<p>"What routine?"</p> - -<p>"First he uses power for hot water, power that I was storing up. Now -he's going to pedal that thing to waste more power."</p> - -<p>Alice shrugged. "He's the spaceman," she said simply. "If he thinks we -can spare the power for a bath, I could certainly use one."</p> - -<p>"How can you trust the likes of him?"</p> - -<p>"We've got to," she said. "We've got to."</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't," said Andrews. "I can't."</p> - -<p>She looked at her employer seriously. "We've both got to trust him," -she said quietly. "Because, right or wrong, he is the only one who -knows anything about space and what's likely to happen next."</p> - -<p>"At a hundred an hour," Andrews said for the ninetieth time or so, -scathingly.</p> - -<p>Alice nodded soberly. "But you mustn't forget that isn't going to do -him any good unless he gets us all home so that he can use it."</p> - -<p>Reluctantly, Andrews nodded. "I suppose you're right."</p> - -<p>Then Alice added, "And even if it weren't for the hundred per, he isn't -the kind to kill himself."</p> - -<p>Andrews grunted, "No, he isn't. But Alice, I'm not at all sure that -Norton knows whether he's doing the right thing or not."</p> - -<p>She shook her head. There was no answer to that argument. Furthermore, -it was the kind of unresolvable argument that could go on and on until -the answer was supplied from the outside. There could be no end to it -until they were either picked up safely or died in lonely space.</p> - -<p>She decided to drop the discussion as pointless, so headed for the -bathroom. A hot shower and a quick tubbing of her underclothing were -on her mind. Her garments, of course, would dry instantly. She had -to smile a little. To think that a hundred years ago women thought -something they called nylon was wonderful because it was fairly -quick-drying! Not instantaneous, of course, as was the material of -which her lingerie was made.</p> - -<p>Anyhow, getting it clean now, and having a bath herself would make -her feel better. And she would be better equipped to face the -nerve-gruelling business of just sitting there watching the clock go -around and around, with nothing to do but wait.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">VII</p> - - -<p>Regin Naylo faced his superior with a scowl. "That rips it wide open," -he said.</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri smiled confidently. He glanced at Linus Brein and asked, -"Just how competent do you think this new thing is?"</p> - -<p>Linus shrugged. "We've analyzed the infrawave pattern they've -developed. It is obvious that this is their first prototype of an -infrawave space detector. The pattern is of the primitive absorptive -type, which is both inefficient as a detector and is also inclined to -produce spurious responses. From our observations, their equipment -must be extremely complex too. It must be loaded to the scuppers with -fragile circuits and components, because the search pattern keeps -breaking down, or becoming irregular. An efficient detector cannot -be made of the infrawave bands until the third order of reflective -response is discovered. I doubt that any research team, no matter how -big, can start with the primitive absorption phase of the infrawaves -and leap to the higher orders of infrawave radiation in less than a -lifetime of study."</p> - -<p>"So, gentlemen?" asked Viggon of his two aides. "Can you predict -whether or not their new detector will deliver the goods?"</p> - -<p>All looked expectantly at Linus Brein.</p> - -<p>"We've been recalculating our probabilities at the introduction of each -new phase of their behaviour," Linus Brein said seriously. "From their -actions, I would say that they do not know, grasp, or perhaps even -guess that space has flaws and warps in the continuum. They have been -going at their search in a pattern of solid geometrical precision, but -have been paying no attention to those rifts, small as they are, that -actually make a straight course bend aside for a distance. So due to -the fact that their search pattern has already passed over one of these -rifts in which the one lifeship lies, and passed beyond in their line -of search, we have produced a nine-nines probability that they will not -locate this lifeship."</p> - -<p>"And the other?" prompted Viggon Sarri, with interest.</p> - -<p>"I'm not done with the first yet," Linus Brein said quietly. "There -remains the random search group. Therein lies the eight-oughts-one -positive probability."</p> - -<p>Viggon snorted. "I call ten to the minus ten chances rather hopeless. -But go on, Linus."</p> - -<p>"The other has a sixty-forty chance," he said. "If the infrawave -detector locates the space rift that lies along our coordinate three -seventy-six, when the ship is near seven sixty-seven, then the scout -craft will pass within magnetic detection range of the lifeship. That's -a lot of 'ifs', I know, but they add up to a sixty-forty chance. I -say this because space rifts tend to produce strong responses in any -of the primitive detecting gear. They've certainly been busy running -down space warps, which indicates that they've been getting a lot -of spurious responses." He smiled. "If space were entirely clear of -foreign matter and space rifts, they'd find their new detector vaguely -inefficient. I—"</p> - -<p>Viggon waved a hand to indicate he had heard enough.</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen," he said quietly. "I've been criticized for waiting, but -what one man calls study the other man calls timidity. We'll continue -to wait for the final factor. Then we'll know...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The stereo pattern in the Information Center of Commodore Ted Wilson's -flagship was slowly being filled with the hazy white that indicated -that these volumes had been combed carefully. As he watched, he could -see how the search was progressing, and it was painfully obvious that -the search was not going good at all.</p> - -<p>The flights of spacecraft in set patterns back and forth through the -stereo had covered nearly all of the truncated space cone. The random -search ships were slowly cutting secondary lines through the regions -already covered. There was a green sphere combing the stereo pattern -now, indicating the new infrawave detector ship and its expected volume -of detector coverage.</p> - -<p>Space was filled to overflowing with the fast patter of the -communications officers, using infrawave for talks between flights, and -ordinary radio for talks between ships of the same flight.</p> - -<p>Wilson had appointed Chief Communications Officer Haggerty to police -the bands. Haggerty had done a fine job, removing the howling confusion -and interference caused from too many calls on the same channel. But -the result was still a high degree of constant call and reply and -cross talk. Most of the chatter came from the infrawave detector ship, -sending the scout craft flitting hither and thither on the trail of -spurious responses.</p> - -<p>It was almost impossible to grasp the extent of the operation. Only in -the stereo pattern could anybody begin to follow the complex operation, -and those who watched the stereo knew that their pattern was only an -idealized space map of what they hoped was going on.</p> - -<p>It was worse than combing the area of an ocean from maps that contained -a neat grid of cross rules. Much worse. For the uncharted ocean is -gridded with radio location finders so accurate that the position of -two ships a hundred yards apart shows a hundred yards of difference in -absolute position in the loran.</p> - -<p>Some day in the distant future space would be solid-gridded with -infrawave navigation signals. Then the space coordinates of any -spacecraft could be found to a fine degree of precision. But now all -that Wilson and his nav-techs could do was to keep sighting the fixed -stars, and from them compute their position.</p> - -<p>This sort of space navigation was good enough to keep a ship on course, -but far from precise enough to pinprick a true position. But, after -all, a crude positioning in the middle of interstellar space is good -enough. One literally has cubic light years to float around in. Once -the spacecraft begins to approach a destination, the space positioning -can be made.</p> - -<p>Again, few spacecraft pause in mid-flight between stars long enough to -care about their interstellar position. After all, space flight does -provide a mode of travel where the destination lies within eyesight. -Or rather, it has lain within eyesight ever since it became commonly -accepted that these ultimate destinations were places, instead of holes -poked in an inverted ceramic bowl.</p> - -<p>Then, in the middle of the communications confusion, came a call from -one of Commander Hatch's scout flights.</p> - -<p>"Pilot Logan, Flight Eighteen, to Commander Hatch. Report."</p> - -<p>"Hatch to Logan. Go ahead. Find something, Will?"</p> - -<p>Will Logan said, "Solid target detected on radar, Commander. Approached -and found. I am now within five thousand yards of what appears to be -Lifeship One."</p> - -<p>The entire fleet went silent, except for the detector ship, the scout -craft, and Wilson's flagship.</p> - -<p>Allison asked, "Was that our target, Logan?"</p> - -<p>Logan replied laconically, "Nope. I was on my way back from a gas -cloud—I think—when the radar got a blip."</p> - -<p>In the background, they could hear Allison saying, "There's a real -target out there where Logan went. Haven't you got an infrawave -response out there somewhere—" The mike clicked off. Allison probably -had remembered that he had his thumb on the "Talk" button and removed -it.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Captain Warren said to Wilson, "That's a hell of a fine space detector, -isn't it?"</p> - -<p>Wilson nodded absently, picked up his own handset and called, "Logan -from Wilson. How close are you now?"</p> - -<p>"Thousand yards, Commodore. And no doubt about it. Lifeship Number One."</p> - -<p>"You stay on, Logan, and give us a rundown."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir. Not much to tell, you know. But I'm closing in."</p> - -<p>The scout craft pilot went on and on, mostly filling in with -inconsequential details of how he was closing in, jockeying to parallel -the lifeship's course and speed, and finally making a space approach.</p> - -<p>At last he said, "They're on radio, Commodore Wilson. I'll relay as -I get it. Too bad these crates aren't fixed to patch-cord the short -range radio to the infrawave. I—" Pilot Logan went on to rattle off -the names of the men aboard the lifeship, stopping once to reconfirm a -pronunciation.</p> - -<p>"Where's the pilot, and the other two? Miss Hemingway and Mr. Andrews?"</p> - -<p>"They must be in Lifeship Three," said Logan. "That's a guess. -Er—Commodore Wilson, I'm within a couple of hundred yards of them now -and they're waving out through the astrodome at me. I'm about to toss -out a light bomb. Or has anybody got a radar fix on me?"</p> - -<p>"Better toss out the light bomb. Also radiate radio on the finding -frequency. Hatch!"</p> - -<p>"Hatch here."</p> - -<p>"Hatch, send out a cruiser class thataway and pick 'em up."</p> - -<p>Hatch laughed in a brittle tone. "It's been on its way for six minutes, -Commodore. Half of our job is done!"</p> - -<p>Wilson said, "Good!" and closed his mike. Half of the job was done, but -it was, as far as Ted Wilson was concerned, the lesser half. He wanted -the lifeship that sheltered Alice Hemingway.</p> - -<p>Three hundred ships combing the spaceways with magnetic detectors and -radar and eyesight. One ship combing God-knows-what with a half-cooked -infrawave gizmo in which nobody had any confidence. One-half of the job -done on what was as much a fluke of luck as good management.</p> - -<p>And out there in the awful dark Alice was trapped in a space can with -a happy-go-lucky hulk of a pilot who lacked the drive and ambition to -buck for his own command, no matter how deeply mortgaged, and a small, -wiry ruler of industry who bought what he could not command, and knew -no more about spacing than Aunt Agatha's pet Siamese tomcat.</p> - -<p>Wilson laughed bitterly. A-spacing she had wanted. Now she had it.</p> - -<p>Pictures went through Wilson's mind. A picture of Charles Andrews -comforting Alice by the force of his personal drive, confident that -money could buy anything, including rescue from space. Andrews calming -her fears and—it must be chill in the lifeship by now—bringing her -the animal comfort of warmth, and offering to take care of her. His -wispy arms about her, his bony hands caressing her as he held her head -on his shoulder, his—</p> - -<p>This picture was replaced by the vision of big indolent collar-ad Pilot -Jock Norton. He would be taking over because he alone in that lifeship -knew what spacing was all about. Mentally, Wilson could see Andrews a -little hysterical because the financier was out of his element, and -Norton taking over completely. Maybe Andrews had succumbed to some -nervous affliction because of the strain.</p> - -<p>Norton would be calming Alice's fears and confidently predicting -rescue, and proposing that they combine the interrelated factors of -the conservation of heat and the passage of time by indulging in -exploratory dalliance. Wilson could even envision Alice, not entirely -convinced that they would ever be rescued, agreeing because she would -be unwilling to die without having reached the pinnacle of emotion.</p> - -<p>That picture was even more distasteful, but it was replaced by another -in which Charles Andrews was making the gesture. Where Norton had youth -and masculine appeal, Andrews had the suave manner and the smooth -experience of his years. Some fast talk and a few vague promises, to -say nothing of some well-calculated suggestions, and Alice would—</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Wilson tried to shut that notion out of his mind, but it went on and on -and on.</p> - -<p>And on.</p> - -<p>Only one thing made this series of pictures bearable at all. Thank God -Alice was aboard that lifeship with two men instead of one. Especially -two men who could not help but find one another deficient in something -or other.</p> - -<p>Then the third or fourth vision came. Norton and Andrews might -possibly, due to their precarious position, settle their differences in -basic nature and come to an agreement.</p> - -<p>They might be taking turns!</p> - -<p>Ted Wilson gritted his teeth and tried to get deeply interested in the -search grid.</p> - -<p>It was nine days old....</p> - -<p>Alice looked up with a startled expression as Jock Norton came through -the ladder hatch into the central cabin of the lifeship.</p> - -<p>"But isn't—ah—aren't you—" She let her voice trail away because she -didn't quite know how to finish.</p> - -<p>He laughed. "I put enough reserve in the tank to take care of the -elderly Napoleon. Look, Alice, I want to talk to you without his guff -on the side."</p> - -<p>"About what?" she asked. "Or shouldn't I ask?" The recent shower and -tubbing of her underclothing had given the girl a feeling of confidence.</p> - -<p>"About me. You. You and I. Us, you know."</p> - -<p>"What can I say?"</p> - -<p>He blurted, "What the hell's wrong with me?"</p> - -<p>"Why, I—"</p> - -<p>"Nuts," he snapped. "I'm not asking you for an explanation."</p> - -<p>"Then why put it that way?"</p> - -<p>"That's the point," he said. "I don't know. Something's all wrong -inside."</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p>"Napoleon. Andrews. Frankly, I hate his damn guts. I've always hated -the guts of that kind of moneybags. He walks all over everybody, buying -what he can't control. Darned near theft, if you ask me."</p> - -<p>"So?"</p> - -<p>"Aw, hell! The little character has got something. I want to know what."</p> - -<p>"Now it's him?"</p> - -<p>Norton nodded. "Something about Andrews. I don't know. I don't know how -or what or why, but there's something about him."</p> - -<p>Alice eyed the pilot strangely. "Good or bad?" she asked cautiously.</p> - -<p>"Both."</p> - -<p>"Jock Norton," she asked quietly, "you've never had to work hard to get -what you wanted, have you?"</p> - -<p>He stared down at his fingernails. "Maybe that's because I never wanted -anything of real value."</p> - -<p>"Maybe," she agreed. "But what have you wanted?"</p> - -<p>"Damned little out of life," he answered her truthfully. "Fun and -games, mostly."</p> - -<p>"And I suppose they came easy?"</p> - -<p>He nodded. "Being a space pilot has—well, a certain egoboo. You -find yourself invited here and there by people who have never been -any farther out of New York than Hackensack, or maybe no farther out -of Chicago than Evanston." He looked down at his fingernails again. -"There's always women happy to claim they've slept with a man who has -been to Castor, or Pollux, or Polaris, or even Centauri. A man gets his -bed and breakfast and his fun. But—" Abashed, he let it trail off.</p> - -<p>"So what about Mr. Andrews?" she prompted.</p> - -<p>"He's been there, too. But his—well, somehow I think—"</p> - -<p>Alice smiled quietly. "In other words, Mr. Andrews' spacing is only a -means to his own advantage instead of being the end itself?"</p> - -<p>"I guess that's what I mean. Andrews doesn't use spacing as his -business. He uses it to get to his business."</p> - -<p>"That's right."</p> - -<p>"So where do I go from here?"</p> - -<p>"That's your decision."</p> - -<p>"I know. And I wish I knew how to make it."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>She smiled at him sympathetically. "I wish I could help."</p> - -<p>"Maybe you could."</p> - -<p>She looked at him cryptically. "Not Alice Hemingway. I've got me a man -out there who is combing space for all three of us. You'll have to make -your own life and find your own girl."</p> - -<p>"Suppose he doesn't find us?" he asked bluntly.</p> - -<p>"Then," said Alice soberly, "we have no future to concern us, no -decision to make, and no failure to measure up to or to account for to -anybody."</p> - -<p>"And we'll have died without having really lived?"</p> - -<p>"Most everybody does. Few are content to lie down and get it over -with. One lifetime is not long enough to content one's self. No alert, -willing, intelligent human being can be content with <i>Thanatopsis</i>."</p> - -<p>"I don't know it."</p> - -<p>"I don't know it too well, either. Something about, 'When thy summons -comes to join the innumerable caravan that moves, et cetera, like -one who wraps the draperies of his couch about him and lies down to -pleasant dreams.' Or something like that."</p> - -<p>Bluntly he said, "It's nine days."</p> - -<p>From the top of the ladder, Charles Andrews repeated his familiar -refrain, "Nine days at a hundred per hour."</p> - -<p>Norton turned swiftly. "Yeah," he drawled. "But we'll have that -argument later, Andrews. Right now it's time to blast out with a -distress signal again. They've got to know we're still alive, no matter -what else."</p> - -<p>"Okay—okay."</p> - -<p>"So you fire up the infrawave transmitter and I'll pedal the generator, -as before."</p> - -<p>Norton disappeared below. Andrews went to the small panel and sat there -watching the one meter, his hand resting on the one switch.</p> - -<p>"Hell of a note," he grumbled.</p> - -<p>Alice asked, "Why?"</p> - -<p>"Can't send a damned message on this. Only make an identification call."</p> - -<p>"Considering the size of this lifeship, and the fact that an -identification call is all that is really necessary, I can't complain -too much," she told him seriously. "What could you tell them that they -don't know already? Could you urge them to greater haste by the power -of your voice?"</p> - -<p>Andrews actually had been thinking exactly that. Between the checkbook -in his wallet and the pen in his pocket, Andrews had always been able -to wield a lot of power. Men had jumped when he spoke, corporations had -stopped their own programs at his signature.</p> - -<p>His personal account would have covered the purchase of a spacecraft -of the type in which they had cracked up. That he did not own his own -interstellar runabout was a matter of a different economy. It was -cheaper to buy passage as he needed it than it was to own his private -spacer and keep it parked at some space port for his convenience.</p> - -<p>But as Alice taunted him, Andrews could not say, aloud, that he -believed his personal demand would bring help faster than the mere -knowledge that human beings were adrift in space. It would sound as -though he thought himself more important to the Universe than Alice or -Jock Norton. He did think so, of course. But this was no time to insult -his lifeship companions by saying so.</p> - -<p>He eyed the switch distastefully. The meter was climbing up to the red -line that meant that the infrawave transmitter was about ready to be -turned on. Then it would hurl out its coded message.</p> - -<p>In the back of his mind was a hazy recollection of radio code. He -remembered that 'a' was a dot-dash, and that 'n' was a dash-dot. He did -not recall whether 'd' was a dash-dot-dot or a dash-dash-dot, 'r' was -dot-dash-dot and everybody knew that 'e' was a single dot. The letter -'w' baffled him completely but he was sure that 's' was dot-dot-dot. So -the worst he could do would be to flub two of the letters in his name, -making it come out A-N-D?-R-E-something-S.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>That, he felt, would let the Universe know that he was still out there, -drifting. The ragged codes might even cause them to hasten because they -might believe him to be alone, or without the help of the pilot who -probably knew code well.</p> - -<p>The meter hit the red line.</p> - -<p>Charles Andrews snapped the goggle switch up and down, then -up-pause-down. He waited a second, then made it up-pause-down, then -up-down. He started the 'D' but his faltering hand flipped the second -dot in a jittery fashion.</p> - -<p>Down in the guts of the infrawave transmitter was a code wheel, -supposed to turn completely around for one revolution. Along the -periphery of the wheel was a series of serrations, which in passing a -fast-action switch keyed the output of the simple transmitter, sending -the stylized code. The jittery flipping of the main switch coincided -with one of the serrations on the code wheel so that Andrews turned off -the whole gear just as the transmitter was keyed on. The power normally -used for the energizing section, stored in local capacitor banks, -discharged through the output section.</p> - -<p>It was not spectacular. The meter just flopped back to zero, a fuse -blew, and the cabin was filled with the pungent odor of burned -insulation.</p> - -<p>Below, in the pedal generator saddle, Jock Norton felt the load -bucking, then it went off completely and reflex almost threw the pilot -out of his seat. The pedals pumped with no resistance. He went aloft.</p> - -<p>"What happened?" he asked.</p> - -<p>He sniffed at the air as Andrews pointed to the meter.</p> - -<p>"It shouldn't happen," said Norton. "What made the thing buck, Andrews?"</p> - -<p>Andrews was not the kind of man who hides his errors, at least. He -faced Norton and said, "I was keying the transmitter."</p> - -<p>Norton growled, "Did it ever occur to you that if this gizmo could be -keyed, it would have been made that way in the first place?"</p> - -<p>"No. I assumed that the thing was made to be handled by people not -familiar with code, and that if one knew code one could key it."</p> - -<p>Norton growled again, "Ever think that I know code, and that if it -could have been keyed, I'd have done it before this?"</p> - -<p>"Now that you say it, I suppose you would have. But what do we do now?"</p> - -<p>"We try to repair it," snapped Norton. "Do you want to try it all by -yourself, or will you permit me to help?"</p> - -<p>Alice got between them once more. "Get it fixed first," she said -sensibly. "Then argue about it afterwards."</p> - -<p>Norton nodded, but he was not happy about it.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">VIII</p> - - -<p>It was finished.</p> - -<p>Commodore Theodore Wilson eyed the stereo grid with distaste. The filmy -white haze, marking off the volumes already combed, filled the grid -completely and overlapped the enclosing lines.</p> - -<p>The pattern search had been most thorough. The random search teams had -cut curlicues and looping curves back and forth through the grid. Their -coverage had not been perfect, by far, but it was good enough for a -random search. The volume covered by the infrawave detector spacer was -spotty, but adequate.</p> - -<p>The equipment was still breaking down every five or ten minutes, still -delivering a horde of spurious responses. Scoutships still were being -sent scurrying back and forth to investigate.</p> - -<p>He faced the grid unhappily. He was gaunt from lack of sleep, from -hastily snatched meals, or meals missed completely, from chain smoking, -from watching what had started as a chance to make a good mark turn -into drab failure. Worse, a failure that in no man's mind could be -blamed upon Ted Wilson. For he had found one lifeship, and the fluke -would be forgotten.</p> - -<p>So would his failure. By every man but Wilson.</p> - -<p>Somewhere back in that vast black volume of nothing, outlined by -imperfect mathematical concepts in a larger field of nothing, was a -lifeship, lost. A tiny cold mote of iron twenty-odd feet tall and nine -feet in diameter across its widest point.</p> - -<p>Wilson tried to draw his mind from it, but could not. Hysteria crept in -but was quickly subdued.</p> - -<p>In his mind he saw her as he had last seen her, pert and happy, with -her light spacebag on the floor of the waiting room beside her slender -ankles. He saw her before him, taut with thrill and excitement, vibrant -and alive. He remembered her parting kiss, and the warmth of her body -pressed against him.</p> - -<p>Alice had been filled with anticipation, wanting to share her -excitement with him, but unable to share what was a brand-new -experience to her of going to space with a man who had been a-spacing -for years. A man who knew all too well how space could be boring, -lonely, and incredibly monotonous.</p> - -<p>Not like travel across land, where there is scenery to watch, and -although a tree is a tree, no two trees are ever alike, just as no one -mountain ever looks the same at two o'clock in the morning as it had -four hours earlier at ten in the evening.</p> - -<p>Not even like travel on water, across the broad ocean where the scenery -is water, whipped into waves of some similarity. For no two waves are -ever the same exactly, and there is always the chance of a whitecap or -a surfacing fish. The motion of the waves is incessant, at some times -as soothing to the nerves as a lullaby.</p> - -<p>But space was always the same. Across the galactic reaches covered by -Man so far, there is little change in the aspect of the sky. A nearby -star here or there is misplaced, but by and large the sky looks the -same from Terra as it does from any planet or any star within fifty -light years.</p> - -<p>Move a man from Sol to Sirius, and Canis Major loses a bright star -and changes shape to a degree not noticed by any but a trained -uranographer. Ophiuchus gains another unimportant star that no one -would care much about.</p> - -<p>But then, Alice had been thrilled from the center of her heart to the -flush on her skin with the idea of taking to space at last, so that she -could at least begin to grasp the immensity and the mystery that he had -failed to bring to her through talk.</p> - -<p>Well, Alice Hemingway was getting her young tummy full of space!</p> - -<p>He was still swearing under his breath when the men came in to ask him -what they should do next.</p> - -<p>He eyed them sourly. Manning, Edwards and Wainwright of his own ship. -Hatch, Weston, Allison; then others Wilson knew only by reputation and -name—Morganstern, Cunningham, Wilkes, Thordarson, Moore, Silkowski, -Themes, and Calcaterra.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They watched him quietly, knowing what he must be feeling. They wanted -orders, either to continue this fruitless search or to abandon it. But -not one of them wanted to be the first to speak.</p> - -<p>Finally Wilson singled out Toby Manning, the computer.</p> - -<p>"Well?" he snapped.</p> - -<p>Manning shrugged. "Tell me what to do next and I'll do it," he said -defensively.</p> - -<p>Wilson exploded, "You know your job! Suppose you tell us all how -three hundred ships could comb space and miss anything bigger than a -hard-boiled egg."</p> - -<p>Toby Manning started to open his mouth to say something. He was not at -all sure what he should say, not at all sure what was wise to say, but -he knew he was expected to say something. It was as well for Manning -that he felt indecision, for if he had uttered a syllable it would have -been blasted back down his throat.</p> - -<p>"Space search!" roared Wilson angrily. "Integrated maneuvers! We -might as well be a bunch of crying children, lost, and scrambling all -over a department store trying to get ourselves located. Sure I know -there are indeterminates. I know there's always trouble with space -coordinates. Sure, it ain't like plowing a farm where you can follow -the edge of where you've been last. But you, Manning, are supposed to -be a computer, capable of plowing with the Law of Probabilities which, -my math prof once told me, should include the probability that human -beings will make errors and be generally sloppy. You set up the search -grid and proposed the search pattern with what you called a factor of -overlap-safety."</p> - -<p>Wilson turned on Hugh Weston. "And you are supposed to have a bunch -of the finest astrogators in the Universe! You and your collection of -schoolboys, confidently walking behind the stereo and drawing pinpoints -and hairlines to show where we've been! Nuts. You should have used a -ten-inch kalsomine brush."</p> - -<p>He paused for breath as he scorned them with his eyes, then picked -Allison.</p> - -<p>"That fancy doodad of yours, Allison—the famous infrawave detector and -ranger! Did you ever get more than ten minutes of constant operation -out of it?"</p> - -<p>"Once," Allison snapped angrily, his face red and his hands opening and -closing.</p> - -<p>"Fine," sneered Wilson. "Oh, fine. Oh, hell!"</p> - -<p>He looked at them all again. He saw them, this time.</p> - -<p>"All right," he said contritely. "I've been off base. I'm wrong. -Manning, what are the probabilities for error in the grid itself?"</p> - -<p>"Commodore, nothing can be perfect. We had to approximate their -position, we had to guess their speed. But we did put our search area -out beyond the region where their chances ended. If they do lie outside -of the volume of space searched, their position lies under a nine-nines -figure against the computation. I may sound like I'm talking gibberish, -but that's it. No man can make a perfect sampling cross section unless -he samples every item. I would stake my uniform on the probability that -the lifeship lies within the volume outlined on our grid."</p> - -<p>"Yes." Wilson nodded. "Weston, can you add anything? I chewed you out, -too, and now I want to back down and ask your honest opinion."</p> - -<p>Hugh Weston shrugged. "We're far from perfect ourselves," he said -quietly. "I'll put it this way. I gave strict orders to the men in the -marker ships that if there was any remote chance they might drift, they -were to overcompensate. In other words, running a channel through space -back and forth leaves a man lost himself, as to his exact position. -I had men marking the courses. Each run through the grid covered a -cylindrical volume. If there were a chance for any cylindrical coverage -to miss its neighbor, leaving a hole in the grid, my men were to move -in and see to it that these errata were closed. But I repeat, we're not -perfect."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Wilson said contritely, "Allison, I owe you the most. You snapped me -out of it. Maybe I owe you the least for bringing that damned gizmo out -here and tying up Hatch's entire fleet of scout craft. But Hatch would -have been sitting quiet anyway, as it turned out. Anything to add?"</p> - -<p>"Nope," said Allison, with a shake of his head. "We know the infrawave -detector is no polished instrument. We're fumbling in the dark. But -there was that possible chance that the detector might have worked -in deep space where it hadn't worked in the interference field of a -planetary system. We hardly know what makes the infrawaves radiate, let -alone how they propagate. But we tried. Just as you tried. We failed."</p> - -<p>"Just as I failed," said Wilson bitterly.</p> - -<p>"Not completely," said Commander Hatch. "We did catch one of them."</p> - -<p>"Batting fifty per cent. One hit and one miss."</p> - -<p>"Stop beating yourself, Wilson."</p> - -<p>"Beating myself? I—" He stopped, then spoke to Manning. "What are -their chances of being in the same general region as that other -lifeship?"</p> - -<p>Manning said to Weston, "You answer that."</p> - -<p>Weston shook his head. "We have no way of knowing whether the rescued -ship left the foundered spacecraft before or after the lost one. Nor at -what celestial angle. Nor at what speed. Okay?"</p> - -<p>Manning nodded, then added to Wilson, "The answer to that, Commodore, -is that the position of the rescued lifeship has no bearing on the lost -one. Just as the turn of heads in a toss has any effect upon the turn -of the next toss."</p> - -<p>Wilson nodded unhappily. "And so we sit here and talk it to death."</p> - -<p>"What more can we do?"</p> - -<p>"We can start over again."</p> - -<p>"Is that an order?" asked Hatch.</p> - -<p>Manning shook his head almost imperceptibly. Wilson caught the faint -objection and said, "Wait a moment. Toby, what have you got in mind?"</p> - -<p>"If we start over again," Manning said soberly, "I'll have to -reconstruct the grid. Because by the time we've covered the grid, -they'll have had time to pass outside of the present realm."</p> - -<p>Wilson thought this over. "Why," he asked generally, "don't we start on -the outside and close in?"</p> - -<p>Manning answered, "Because in starting on the inside we have the best -mathematical chance of finding them. By starting on the outside, -we must cover a vast cylinder, element by element, working in the -direction opposite to theirs. No, that's not the right way to do it, -Commodore."</p> - -<p>"All right. Reconstruct your new grid, Toby. Hugh, get your gang -together and compute the center line of the pattern within a half-inch. -Morganstern, you've got a good crew of advanced techs. Turn 'em all -over to Allison. Allison, pack enough men aboard that cranky crate of -yours so that any part that blows can be replaced within ten seconds. -I want uninterrupted operation, even though the thing only hands us -spurious responses.</p> - -<p>"Hatch, put half of your gang in with the random search team. No use -using all of you to run down gas clouds and meteorites and places where -there should be something the size of a planet but isn't. Yes, we'll -start all over. And this time, Hugh, give us fifty per cent overlap, -and get busy with Toby to compute the new grid on that basis. Can we do -it?"</p> - -<p>They looked at him. Some wearily, who saw him more weary than they. -Some angrily, but Wilson was beyond honest anger himself. Some -anxiously, who knew that Ted Wilson had lost more out in that black -nothingness than a reputation, or a mark on his record. Some looked at -him willingly. They were all with him, tired, angry, expectant, but all -willing.</p> - -<p>Weston growled, "We'll find 'em, damn it."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The room rumbled with growls. They were not schoolboys, thrilled with -the adventure or given to demonstration, nor youths driven to the job -of combing the unknown for their commodore's lost love. But they felt -it inside and stifled it in low-voiced growls because they were not -much given to bragging, either.</p> - -<p>And Ted Wilson knew that if the lost lifeship was to be found, his -command would find it.</p> - -<p>Wilson's communications officer came in quietly. He caught his -commodore's eye and motioned Wilson aside.</p> - -<p>"Commodore," he said, "something I'm not quite sure about."</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>"The hourly infrawave distress call?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, of course. It's time for it." Wilson looked at the man's face -and knew that something was wrong. "It came in, didn't it?" When the -communications officer didn't speak, Wilson cried hoarsely, "It came -in?"</p> - -<p>The com-tech nodded slowly. "It started, but it was sputtering badly. -Then it conked out cold, Commodore. Nothing like I've ever heard -before."</p> - -<p>"Like what?"</p> - -<p>"Well, you know the code wheel runs in standard communications code, -giving the spacecraft license, the lifeship number, and the general -distress call, repeated over and over for three minutes. Well, sir, the -license identification came through all right, but after that the code -got awful garbled and spotty, and then the whole damned transmission -just crapped out, sir. After about a half-minute."</p> - -<p>"Fade?" asked Wilson in a strained voice.</p> - -<p>"Went out like a blown fuse. Big blast, then silence. Nothing."</p> - -<p>Wilson thought for a moment, then looked around. "Anybody have an idea?"</p> - -<p>Allison scratched his head. "You say the code was all right, but then -got spotty?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>Allison looked at Manning. Both were involved in science to a high -degree, Allison as an infrawave researcher; Manning as a computer. Both -had studied the mathematics of communication. Manning nodded soberly.</p> - -<p>"You don't suppose they foolishly tried to key the automatic -transmitter?" he asked. "Superimposing a code upon another code would -result in a spotty transmission, since the intermingled transmission -bits would obtain only where both codings delivered a positive -configuration. It might—"</p> - -<p>The communications tech broke in scornfully, "The pilot of the -Seventy-nine was aboard. He'd know. Nobody but a complete imbecile -would try to key an automatic distress transmitter."</p> - -<p>Allison nodded positively. "Can't be it."</p> - -<p>Commander Hatch looked down at his feet. "I was in a space can once," -he said. "They don't last forever. I—" He let his voice trail away.</p> - -<p>Wilson looked into their faces. The cold, bleak fact was so clear in -their faces that he could not ignore it. He was forced to recognize the -fact that a lifeship is no spacecraft. A lifeship is a flimsy tin can, -as spaceworthy as an open raft on the broad ocean, as spaceworthy as an -umbrella in a windstorm. A lifeship was not intended for comfort, or -for travel, or for use. It was aimed at a hope and a prayer that if the -mother spacecraft came a cropper that human lives could be protected -for a time, long enough to give hope of rescue.</p> - -<p>In the faces of the men had been determination. Now the determination -had faded. Left was only sorrow and resignation.</p> - -<p>Wilson had lost.</p> - -<p>Doggedly he said, "We'll loaf it out for the next hour. We'll go on -as though this hadn't happened. We'll prepare for a recoverage of the -grid."</p> - -<p>They all nodded and left, but the step of each had lost its spring, and -voices had lowered to funeral rumbles. Some even whispered.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Commodore Wilson swore at the closed door.</p> - -<p>The hour passed with the slow interminable drag of eternity itself. It -was the complete uncertainty of the result, the angering fact that not -a single thing could be done until that hour had passed, and even then -there was a high possibility that nothing could be done at all. So long -as the hourly signal came in, there had been solid knowledge of the -survival of the lost party.</p> - -<p>This had been a sort of haphazard thing. There had been times before -when a lifeship party had missed sending the signal because of fatigue, -and had finally sent their signal late. Suggestions were always -cropping up that the signal be entirely automatic, clock-timed. These -ideas were claimed to be impractical since a timed, automatic signal -only meant that the lifeship itself was still lost in space, and not -that any aboard it were alive.</p> - -<p>A full, two-way infrawave system would have been the answer; if a full -two-way system could have been installed in a lifeship, still leaving -room in the little space can for things essential to the sustenance of -human life.</p> - -<p>Ocean lifecraft are equipped with hooks and lines for catching fish, -with gizmos for making water from the salt ocean drinkable. Air is -free. Waste products are cast overboard.</p> - -<p>In space there are no fish to catch, no salt ocean to purify, no air -but that within the tiny can and its high-pressure air flasks. There is -a supply of water and a small refining plant to distill waste products, -not at all efficient, but adequate for a few days. But the bulk of the -food and water and all of the air necessary to maintain life filled up -a large percentage of the small volume of a lifeship.</p> - -<p>Slowly, that nerve-grinding hour passed, and then it became an hour and -a half. Then it was two hours, then two and a half. Then three hours.</p> - -<p>No signal....</p> - -<p>Andrews looked askance at Norton. "Nothing we can do?" he asked quietly.</p> - -<p>Norton shook his head: "Nothing I can do," he said helplessly.</p> - -<p>"But there must be something."</p> - -<p>"There probably is," Norton said simply. "If I were a trained com-tech, -I could probably fake something together and make some fudged-up -repair that would at least radiate. But I'm a pilot, so I don't know -all the angles of infrawave equipment. Not even basic theory. I know -enough—with the aid of this repair manual—to replace any part that -might have failed. But beyond that—"</p> - -<p>Andrews shook his head and scratched his nose. "I can't see it," he -said.</p> - -<p>"See what?"</p> - -<p>"I can't see how a man can claim the ability to make a repair on a -complicated thing like this without knowing more than you say you know."</p> - -<p>Norton smiled thinly. "I can replace the plumbing under a sink, too," -he said flatly, "without knowing enough to make me a licensed plumber. -This manual gives full directions, but no reasons. If the voltage at -this terminal is less than thirty-six hundred, then check the voltages -on terminals so-and-so, measure the resistance between terminals -this-and-that with the equipment off, connect terminal A to terminal -B, and check the alternating voltage across Component Two-nineteen. -Depending upon what we find that does not follow the book, we locate -the busted doodad and replace it. But the damned book doesn't bother -to tell you why the voltage across such-and-such terminals should be -thirty-six hundred, or what happens when it isn't. The book was not -written for infrawave engineers. It was written for guys like me who -care more to get a signal on the infrawave bands than we care for the -theory of operation."</p> - -<p>"All right, then. So we blew something. Can't we run it down?"</p> - -<p>"Trouble is that we blew too many things at the same time."</p> - -<p>"Don't understand."</p> - -<p>"Naturally," snapped the pilot. "You know less about this stuff than I -do. This is supposed to be more than thirty-six hundred, providing that -is functioning. But the voltage will go above seven thousand if the -other has come unglued. If you blow both items, together, the voltage -downed by one and upped by the other comes out to about four thousand. -The reading may be all right, but when everything in the damned set -reads wrong, I have to give up."</p> - -<p>"So what do we do now?"</p> - -<p>Norton shrugged. "We hope they don't give up. We keep on working on -this thing. We—Hell, we might as well turn on the receiver and listen."</p> - -<p>"Can we spare the power?"</p> - -<p>Norton looked at the financier. "Might as well," he said. "We might as -well. If they abandon this search because we aren't transmitting, we -might as well waste the power anyway...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Viggon Sarri faced his lieutenants. "From Brein's report," he -announced, "they finished their grid search some three hours ago, -and have been milling around in stacked pattern ever since. Linus -predicts that they have been waiting for a recurrence of the regularly -transmitted signal that should have kept coming but which blew out from -some sort of overload. Within the half-hour, they have reformed their -search pattern and seem inclined to continue, even though it should -appear obvious to them that their friends have lost their ability to -transmit."</p> - -<p>Regin Naylo looked puzzled. "Could it be that they've discovered how to -tell when an infrawave receiver is being used?"</p> - -<p>Faren Twill shook his head, "If they knew that they'd have developed a -more efficient infrawave detector."</p> - -<p>Linus Brein agreed vigorously.</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri seated himself self-confidently. "Gentlemen, you have -before you a race with dogged determination, the grit and will to go -on, even though they have tasted failure."</p> - -<p>"Right," said Faren Twill.</p> - -<p>"So now I know," said Viggon. "And now we go in!"</p> - -<p>Regin Naylo looked hopeful. "To let 'em have it?" His face fell. "Or to -make friends of them?"</p> - -<p>Faren Twill started to speak, but Viggon silenced him with a wave of -his multiflexed hand as he went on. "We go in prepared for anything. -Naylo, you will, as usual, set up our forces for battle. That means an -all-man alert at all stations. Complete alert, Naylo."</p> - -<p>Naylo nodded.</p> - -<p>"With one exception. No attempt to clear the space charge in the -projectors with a preliminary blast."</p> - -<p>"But look, sir—"</p> - -<p>"You'll issue instructions to your beam officers to set their beams for -the trial blast, but not to clear them."</p> - -<p>"Mightn't that be dangerous?"</p> - -<p>"It might. But the clearing blast can come before we strike—if we have -to strike. I doubt that the wait will be disastrous, Regin. After all, -they seem to have no armaments worthy of the name. And firing a few -thousand megnoid beams, even at test power, cuts up some awful didoes -in space."</p> - -<p>"So?" sneered Naylo.</p> - -<p>"Aside from scaring the armor off of them, it also kills a certain -element I demand. At any rate, those are your orders. You, Faren Twill, -will take charge of the maneuvers, setting up the fleet in battle -formation and instructing each ship captain to be prepared for any -maneuver, however unorthodox. Both of you are to maintain constant -personal contact with me, for my orders may change by the minute. -Linus, you had better clear your logic computer of all problems, but -retain the information we have stored regarding this race. Be prepared -to accept any information that may come from our next act. Understand?"</p> - -<p>They all nodded.</p> - -<p>"All right. Then as soon as each of you is ready for further orders, -report. At that time we are going in!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">IX</p> - - -<p>Eyes on the speaker grille as if they could force it into life by the -power of their minds and attention, they sat in the little lifeship -cabin in deathly silence. Their utter helplessness was apparent to all -three of them, but their grasp of that fact took different trends.</p> - -<p>Charles Andrews was angry and frightened. Had he been able to transmit -his blocked-off communication he would have roared in anger, cajoled, -threatened, accused the rest of the Universe of incompetency, then -offered large rewards. But perhaps for the first time in his life -Charles Andrews was in the awkward position of having no channel of -communication with those who might do his bidding. Therefore he was as -frightened as a musician who is told he must lose his hands, the use -of which give him his only opportunity to pour out his inner feelings.</p> - -<p>Jock Norton was stunned. Because he had looked upon this affair as a -sort of lark. Others had come through spacewreck safely and he should, -too. Because now he had been forced to realize that this incredible -thing was happening to him. Juggernaut was about to roll over him, and -there was nothing he could do about it.</p> - -<p>A couple of the others who had come through safely had gained some fame -and fortune by writing their memoirs, and taking their short strut upon -the stage of Public Curiosity. But the game had turned bitter, and now -Jock Norton was wondering if it might not be better to get it over with -as quickly and painlessly as possible—except that Jock Norton was -afraid to face death with the same calm, casual attitude with which he -had always faced life. But life had been fun, while death.... Who knew?</p> - -<p>Alice Hemingway was frightened almost into shock. She was holding -fast to a blind hope, the same hope to which many a shipwrecked and -space-wrecked victim has clung when the searching party passes at a -distance and goes on, and the mind keeps crying that surely someone -will turn and see. And screams become hoarse because all reason and -logic have fled, and there is no way for the mind to realize that no -voice could be heard across the thunder of waves or across the gulf of -space.</p> - -<p>Alice also had blind faith in her lover. He could not fail; he would -not permit himself to fail. She would not face the possibility that -though Ted Wilson would do his best, that his fine crew, and the -equally fine crews of the other commanders would do their best, that -best was not enough.</p> - -<p>So far, no one had mentioned the fact that Charles Andrews had wrecked -their code transmitter. One does not kick a dog for ignorance, nor -lay blame for technical incompetence upon a financier. An error is an -error, and the other two victims knew that Andrews felt the weight of -the error he had made as heavily as they did. But there it was, and -sooner or later it would probably break through, and come out stark and -vital.</p> - -<p>Then the infrawave receiver chattered into life.</p> - -<p>"All right," said the voice of Commodore Wilson. "We have our plans. -We'll assume that they've had a technical breakdown and cannot -transmit. But until we find that lost lifeship, and the three of them -in it, dead or alive, we'll keep on combing space! Are you with me?"</p> - -<p>The infrawave yammered with a chorus of affirmatives.</p> - -<p>Andrews took a deep breath.</p> - -<p>Norton relaxed and lit a cigarette.</p> - -<p>Alice looked around the cabin wildly and cried, "Ted—Ted! You can't -fail us now!"</p> - -<p>They sat there in their little lifeship cabin, cold and frightened, and -they listened to the chatter going on across space from ship to ship -and an occasional call to Base. Hope waxed and waned; they were as lost -as any human being has ever been lost.</p> - -<p>Yet somewhere out there men were searching for them. They could be -light years distant; they might even be going in the other direction. -But it could be just the minute after the next when a wild happy yell -would burst from the infrawave receiver to inform the known Universe -that the lost had been found!</p> - -<p>And so they waited—and hoped....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Commander Hatch, tired of inactivity, was loafing along out deep in -space on the trail of a clustered group of the infrawave detector's -improbable findings. But this time it was not a spurious response he -got.</p> - -<p>He flicked past Viggon Sarri's flagship at no more than a half-mile -distance and blinked at what he saw, hoping to scan it more closely -on the image that his eye retained. The big flagship had come out of -the black in a flash and a fluid line of sparkling lights, had blasted -into size, and had been behind him in another flick. It left only that -flowing image on Hatch's retina, but that was enough.</p> - -<p>"That," he said aloud in his one-man ship, "was a spacecraft! And -<i>big</i>!"</p> - -<p>Hatch flipped his flitter end for end and set the blast. It brought him -to a slowdown by the time he came abreast of the second wave of Viggon -Sarri's space force.</p> - -<p>To one side was a monster, sleek and dangerous-looking, its turrets -flat and ugly-snouted. Above him was another, more distant, but no less -angry-looking. Before him was a fighter carrier, its skeleton deckworks -crammed with fleet hornets of space, their stinger fixed forward, -looking out of the carrier at every angle.</p> - -<p>Small, ineffective drive flares indicated that their crews were alert, -though idling, and that their working guts were hot and ready to arrow -into space. Before him was another of the vast battle wagons, its -projector snouts uncovered. One of the turrets made a swift turn, a -lift of the projectors, a lowering and complete swivel. Then another -started the warm-up maneuver.</p> - -<p>Hatch's scoutcraft passed on. On through the front line of -ultra-heavies to the lighter, faster classes of spacecraft behind the -front array. Jaw slack, he pressed his eyes against the binocular -scope, straining to see the flat-extent of each formation. But they -faded off into the depths of space and he could not see the end of them.</p> - -<p>He passed another carrier and watched the first flight of fighters whip -out from the skeleton deck in a flat circle, to turn upward along the -axis of the carrier and disappear forward toward the spearhead of the -force. They looped around after awhile and came back to the carrier -after their test flight.</p> - -<p>Everywhere Hatch saw the ugly snouts of projectors lifting and turning -in their turrets.</p> - -<p>He broke out in a cold sweat. Hatch was as frightened a man as ever -existed.</p> - -<p>He was a commander in the Space Force, a body trained for combat. But -the Space Force, for obvious reasons, was not trained in combat. Aside -from having to contend with an attempt at space piracy, some more -frequent attempts at barratry, theft, and other forms of skullduggery, -and very frequent smuggling, the Space Force was not armed against -opposition.</p> - -<p>They had their arms, and their ships were efficient. But for the lack -of an active enemy, the Space Force was not a pampered service, handed -money for the development of heavy space ordnance. There had always -been the unexpected "Maybe, some day," but to date no one had ever come -up with any proof that Humankind did not represent the only sentient -animal in the aggregation of Galaxies.</p> - -<p>So Hatch, trained to run down fragmentary piracies and an occasional -run-in with some spaceman whose operations exuded an odor into space, -was no more trained to space combat than any of his fellows. He had -exercises, but had never heard a shot fired in wartime anger.</p> - -<p>So Hatch sweated it out.</p> - -<p>He flipped off his drive so that he would not be seen. His hand -trembled, halfway to the microphone of his infrawave. He stopped it, -lest he be heard.</p> - -<p>Flipping off his drive was good for another reason too, he told his -quaking mind. It also kept up his speed instead of decelerating to -a dead stop in the middle of this incomprehensible, magnificent, -dangerous-looking fleet of space battle-craft.</p> - -<p>Personal safety, and the hope of—</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Hatch laughed at himself sourly. He was in space, not hiding behind a -tree on a battlefield-to-be. He was floating out there in the openest -open that had ever been opened, where it was definitely true that if he -could see them, they could see him. Trying to hide in the middle of -that task force was like a man as masculine as he was, trying to troll -unnoticed through a mass meeting of the Gamma Upsilon Mu—better known -as the "Get Your Man" sorority.</p> - -<p>Besides, other men were back there in space that must be warned. -Probably he had already been noticed, and zeroed-in from a few of the -smaller projectors in that task force. They would hardly let him pass -through the fleet and go free. They might not blow him out of space -until the last moment, to preserve their element of surprise. But the -men back there—</p> - -<p>He reached for the microphone, took a deep breath, and offered up -a brief prayer to get his lines through before the blast came. And -that the blast be a quick and merciful blackout instead of a slow and -painful matter of dying all alone, deep in space....</p> - -<p>Wilson was striding up and down the stereo room when the loud-speaker -on the wall bellowed into a strained roar:</p> - -<p>"Commander Hatch to Commodore Wilson on emergency priority!"</p> - -<p>The entire personnel of the plotting room froze solid.</p> - -<p>"Wilson! I've just contacted a fleet of warcraft, big ships with -nasty-looking projector sort of things looking out of mobile turrets. -There are big ones! Bigger than anything we've ever built, and -skeletonlike things that have open decks loaded with one-man fighters. -They're—"....</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri said crisply, "Get him! Alive!"</p> - -<p>Regin Naylo barked crisp orders, and some of the ships took off to -surround the small Earth scout craft. One of the big cruiser class -swerved over and hurled out a blanketing infrawave that quietly clamped -down on space and shut off Hatch's transmission as abruptly as cutting -the wires on a telephone line. Except that there was not even a -click....</p> - -<p>Wilson grabbed a phone and barked, "Froman! You're Hatch's second. -Scout that! And report constantly!"</p> - -<p>"Affirm, Commodore!"</p> - -<p>Wilson called Admiral Stone. "Trouble, Admiral," he snapped curtly. -"We've contacted what appears to be a war fleet in space."</p> - -<p>Admiral Stone was dumbfounded. Like many others, he realized that the -mathematical probabilities of there being another sentient race in -the Galaxy was almost a certainty, that considering the billions of -stars, the figures read to the tune of probably some twenty thousand -such planetary races, even taking the probabilities in a pessimistic -quantity.</p> - -<p>But twenty thousand sentient races sprinkled across a volume of space -with the infinity of the Galaxy gave each and every one of them a -lot of room. Their making contact with one another was slightly less -probable than the close passage of two stars.</p> - -<p>Then the men of Earth waited again.</p> - -<p>They realized that nothing is ever done right in a hurry. Light leagues -of space separated the human forces from the alien. Light years had -to be crossed. As time passed, everybody sat tense, each with his own -personal thoughts.</p> - -<p>An alien race? Certainly everybody expected that Humankind would some -day meet up with some stellar race distant and remote and probably as -exotic-looking as anything that the most lurid magazines had ever used -on their covers. Or possibly they would be human-looking. Each man had -his own ideas, and no two were exactly alike. The aliens would come as -friends. They would be met as friends. They would come as superiors to -help them to reach Utopia, or come as masters to make them slaves. They -were humanivorous—or they were good to eat themselves. And what might -happen to an intelligent filet mignon?</p> - -<p>And so the time passed slowly until Hatch's second, Major Spaceman -Froman, and his scouts made contact.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They were wide spread as they came against that space lattice of Viggon -Sarri's first wave. Their reports were sketchy and incomplete, because -they had been ordered to make contact, to observe, and to swoop back. -In snatches they described the fleet:</p> - -<p>"Thousand feet long—"</p> - -<p>"Five hundred in diameter—"</p> - -<p>"Twelve turrets—"</p> - -<p>"With four projectors each."</p> - -<p>"Two forward and—"</p> - -<p>"Two at spread behind."</p> - -<p>"Carriers—"</p> - -<p>"Why haven't we got carriers?"</p> - -<p>"Fighters with fixed—"</p> - -<p>"Hundreds of them!"</p> - -<p>Stone heard, and digested the ramble of information. He heard things -described that he could not believe, and things that he had to accept.</p> - -<p>"Wilson!" he barked. "Retreat! Retire."</p> - -<p>"But look, Admiral—"</p> - -<p>Admiral Stone took a deep breath and fought his dazzled mind into a -semblance of order.</p> - -<p>"Commodore Wilson," he snapped crisply, "official orders. You are to -abandon this search. At once."</p> - -<p>"But do you realize—"</p> - -<p>"Stop it, Commodore Wilson!! I am well aware of the fact that there -are three human lives at stake. But under these circumstances I cannot -permit three thousand lives to remain in jeopardy on the scant chance -that three may be saved. You are ordered to abandon the search and -return to base."</p> - -<p>"Admiral, I—"</p> - -<p>"I sit here arguing with you, Wilson, because I don't want to take -punitive measures. But please understand that you are facing a battle -fleet of unknown strength and unknown fire power, both factors of which -must certainly be greater than any power or number we can put in the -field. You cannot face them, Wilson! Your space rifles are stowed and -your ammunition holds are empty. Your torpedo bays are stocked with -a few scattered practice missiles with smoke-flare warheads. Your -fire-control equipment needs overhaul and adjustment, and your lockers -are not checked out for battle maneuver. For the safety of your men, -Wilson, and for the safety of your home, you must stop this senseless -argument and obey your orders!"</p> - -<p>"Sorry, Admiral, I—"</p> - -<p>"This is mutiny!"</p> - -<p>"I guess it is, but I am going to find—"</p> - -<p>"You will transfer your command to Mr. Manning, who will take the -temporary rank of Commodore Executive. You will consider yourself under -arrest without confinement to quarters, and you will present yourself -to my office upon your return."</p> - -<p>"I will do nothing of the sort!"</p> - -<p>"Then I must take punitive measures.... Attention, all squadron -commanders and officers above the technical grade! Commodore Theodore -Wilson is relieved of command, and you are to proceed on your own -flight plans to your individual bases. This is by order of my office. I -am Admiral Stone."</p> - -<p>Toby Manning came in, and behind him were Edwards and Wainright. Wilson -faced them angrily. "Well?" he snapped.</p> - -<p>Manning looked uncomfortable, but said nothing.</p> - -<p>"By Regs," said Wilson slowly, "I am still in the command of this -squadron."</p> - -<p>Toby Manning nodded slowly.</p> - -<p>"I am refusing to obey orders. I am <i>not</i> placing my squadron in your -command, Mr. Manning. Understand?"</p> - -<p>Toby smiled crookedly. "I understand. You are accepting all -responsibility, and you are telling me that if I do not follow your -orders, I am disobeying a senior officer."</p> - -<p>"Precisely."</p> - -<p>Wainright said, "But look here, Ted, isn't that—"</p> - -<p>Wilson's laugh was brittle. In it was no humor at all. "That is -precisely right. Even though I am disobeying my senior officer, Mr. -Manning will be disobeying his senior officer if he does not follow my -orders."</p> - -<p>"But isn't Admiral Stone senior to all of us?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. But he is a distant senior to you. I am your immediate superior. -And now, damn it, stop making like a space lawyer and let's start -hunting!"</p> - -<p>Wainright nodded, but as he turned to leave he was muttering:</p> - -<p>"Wish we had more than the steak knives in the wardroom to fight with!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">X</p> - - -<p>Vacantly the three survivors of spacewreck, in the lost lifeship, -stared at the grille of the infrawave receiver in the deadly silence -that followed Admiral Stone's last transmission. This was the end of -message, end of hope, end of them.</p> - -<p>Jock Norton's toneless voice gritted, "That about rips it wide, doesn't -it?"</p> - -<p>Alice Hemingway's voice came out, weak and thin. "Ted—you tried. Now -you'll—"</p> - -<p>Andrews stood up quickly, and strode across the floor shakily. He faced -the infrawave receiver with a mad glitter in his eye, and he roared:</p> - -<p>"Damn you, come back! Damn you, come back!"</p> - -<p>Over and over he roared the inane words, and as he roared, his anger -and madness increased until he was beating a fist on the cabinet in a -violent rage.</p> - -<p>The infrawave said crisply, "Flight Squadron Nineteen in flight pattern -for Procyon Four."</p> - -<p>"No!" screamed Andrews.</p> - -<p>"—time," continued the infrawave.</p> - -<p>"No!" screamed Andrews again, beating the cabinet with both fists now.</p> - -<p>"Ten!" said the infrawave, and Andrews came down on the cabinet with -all of his wiry strength.</p> - -<p>"Nine!" The beat became a rhythm with the call.</p> - -<p>"Eight!" Another hard slam left blood marks on the metal.</p> - -<p>"Seven!" The cabinet bent inward. A shower of glass fell from the -tuning indicator.</p> - -<p>"Six! Almost lost in a solid thunk.</p> - -<p>"Five!" And after the blow something spluttered in the speaker's throat.</p> - -<p>"Four!" Knobs bent, and Andrews' blood drooled along the cabinet front -toward the deck.</p> - -<p>"Three—" With a fizzling sound the infrawave died, and said no more.</p> - -<p>Insanely the man beat upon the bent cabinet in the same rhythm although -the sound had died. He beat and he beat until the stun and shock had -been wiped out of Jock Norton's face. He came over and hauled Andrews -from the cabinet. The financier struggled, but it was futile against -Jock's size and strength and youth and stamina.</p> - -<p>The pilot trapped Andrews' flailing arms and held him immobile until -rage, madness and hysteria had passed. Andrews lay silent, his face -blank, his breathing shallow.</p> - -<p>Norton looked at Alice. "Stroke?" he asked worriedly. "Has he got a bad -heart?"</p> - -<p>Alice looked up, the semi-blankness fading from her face. "I—don't -know. Is he—"</p> - -<p>"He's passed out or burned out, or worked himself into a faint."</p> - -<p>Alice brought a blanket as Norton lifted Andrews to one of the bunks. -"Jock?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>"What does this mean? Enemy ships and all that?"</p> - -<p>"It ain't good, baby. From somewhere has come the inevitable -transgalactic culture, only with guns instead of gifts."</p> - -<p>"But it isn't like us to run."</p> - -<p>He nodded soberly. "Yes, it is," he told her positively. "The first man -lived to start the human race by knowing when to run like hell. He ran -until he could pick up a handy rock to throw. That's what our men have -done. Run home to get our rocks."</p> - -<p>Alice looked wistful. "And Ted?"</p> - -<p>Jock shrugged. "I wouldn't know," he said. "He'll probably get busted a -few grades for insubordination. They took his command away. That's one -way of preventing full insubordination from an officer who might have a -lot of public sentiment on his side, or good high-rank material in him. -They take away his command <i>before</i> he disobeys, slap him down a few -steps for trying, and let him sweat it out."</p> - -<p>"I'm glad," she said simply and her voice was calm.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Norton looked at her strangely.</p> - -<p>She caught his look and smiled, almost serenely.</p> - -<p>"It would be a shame," she said, "for Ted to have to lose his rank and -his prestige and his honor, and maybe his life and the lives of all -his men, by doggedly staying out here in the face of an enemy fleet, -against orders."</p> - -<p>Norton nodded dubiously. "I suppose so," he said. "But do you know -where that leaves <i>us</i>?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," she said, "I know."</p> - -<p>Tears welled up in her eyes, and she leaned forward to find strength in -his arms, and a rest for her weary head on his shoulder. He held her, -gently stroking her hair with one hand and pressing her against him.</p> - -<p>She stopped sobbing after awhile, and looked up at him. Murmuring -softly, he leaned down and kissed her eyes. She clutched at him and -swayed in his arms. He found her lips then, but there was no fire in -them.</p> - -<p>Nor was he surprised. For there was no fire in his own, either....</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri gloated, "Ver-ry interesting. Ver-ry."</p> - -<p>Faren Twill shrugged. "Just what else did you expect?"</p> - -<p>Regin Naylo scowled. "We had 'em in your lap," he complained. "And -nobody gave the order to fire. We could have chased 'em inch by inch, -but all we did was to hang here in space and scare the hull plates off -of them and let 'em run like rabbits."</p> - -<p>Viggon smiled. "Exactly. I expected one of two things. They could have -swarmed into us senselessly, suicidally, to take whatever toll they -could take before they lost. That's why we had the projectors alerted -and the fighters hot. I don't even open an ant hill without protection, -gentlemen. So they did the other thing."</p> - -<p>"Sure," growled Regin Naylo. "They could either stay or run. Since they -didn't stay, they—"</p> - -<p>"Stop being smart," snapped Viggon Sarri. "Or weren't you listening?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I was."</p> - -<p>"Then you should realize that what they were doing was behaving -sensibly. Just what would you do, Naylo, if you were wandering through -a woods unarmed and a large, unknown, and completely unexpected beast -leaped out on your path?"</p> - -<p>Naylo sneered. "I'd run."</p> - -<p>"Then what?"</p> - -<p>Naylo's eyes widened. He said at last, "I'd run until I got where I -could get armed, then I'd probably go back hunting the beast."</p> - -<p>"Exactly. But not too good an analogy, which is my fault. They did -not run in abject terror. They sent scouts to spy us and report our -strength as best they could. Then they retreated. There's a difference. -They <i>reported</i> home, but <i>retreated</i> to their base or bases, because -they knew that they could do no good by hurling themselves on us."</p> - -<p>"They want to arm themselves?"</p> - -<p>"Precisely."</p> - -<p>"And what do we do now?"</p> - -<p>"I think we had best question the one we picked up."</p> - -<p>Linus Brein shook his head. "Not that one," he said.</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>"When we pried open his scoutcraft, he came out a-fighting and he -fought until we had to take him over. He clipped several of our boys, -and I'm afraid we got a little rough. Our fighting men can get hard, -you know."</p> - -<p>"Dead?" demanded Viggon.</p> - -<p>"No. But he'll be in no condition for an extensive questioning for some -time."</p> - -<p>"Damn! Well, the next best thing to do is to collect the lifeship. We -know what we wanted to know about their mass reaction. Now we must -learn about their individual reaction to an awkward and dangerous -situation."</p> - -<p>Faren Twill picked up the microphone and ordered a flight of light -destroyers into action....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Wilson sat in the dome room of the detector ship and cursed. The lights were still flickering across the presentation surface, flecks and -streaks of spurious response. But with space cleared of the horde of -searching spacecraft, the flickings and the streakings had diminished, -although that cluster of spots still held its position.</p> - -<p>Wilson said to Allison, "Seems to me we could have volunteered to stay -out here and keep watch."</p> - -<p>Allison was shaking his head when the dome went black again. "They -wouldn't believe you," he said.</p> - -<p>One of the techs readjusted something and the presentation returned.</p> - -<p>"It's a damned funny business, this Space Service," said Wilson. "Any -service, I guess."</p> - -<p>"How so?" asked Manning.</p> - -<p>"If I give a wrong order and you disobey, to keep from piling up, you -get clipped for it. If you don't refuse to carry out the order and we -pile up, I get busted—if any of us come back whole."</p> - -<p>"I wonder if <i>they</i> have that trouble, too," Wainright said musingly, -looking up at the cluster of dots that represented the enemy fleet.</p> - -<p>"Probably. I hope so."</p> - -<p>Edwards shook his head. "I'd rather fight an enemy that had no -iron-bound discipline. Let 'em run wild, taking their own ideas as they -come. Let 'em argue with the skipper. Let 'em quit if their commander -doesn't play their way. That's the difference between a mob and a -service, Ted."</p> - -<p>Wilson grinned. "Call it confusion then!" he said, with a wave at the -dome. "And I hope they have it!"</p> - -<p>As they watched, a group of dots moved from the group and started away, -slowly, at an angle. They watched until the dots had progressed a few -feet from the main cluster.</p> - -<p>Ted Wilson eyed them intently. "There must be some reason.... Allison!"</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>"See if you can project an imaginary line across that damn dome! I'll -bet that our lifecraft lies somewhere along the course!"</p> - -<p>Allison yelled, "Jones! Halligan!"</p> - -<p>The dome blacked out with a puff of smoke from one bay. A tech groped -deep in one of the open panels and went to work with long-handled -tools. Someone called above the hubbub that they'd have it back in -shape in a minute.</p> - -<p>Wilson mumbled, "Sixteen thousand delicate infrawave parts, and a -half-million electronics components, all balanced on the pinpoint of a -page of equations rolled into a dunce's cap! And I have to live with -it!"</p> - -<p>Allison grumbled, "Hell, nothing is perfect the first time."</p> - -<p>"All right, forget it." Wilson shrugged, as the dome flickered on again.</p> - -<p>It made a flowing, over-and-over turn. Then the presentation spun -around some one of its personal axes of no particular coordinate, -like a planetarium being operated by a putterer who wants to see what -happens when he pushes any button at random.</p> - -<p>It settled down.</p> - -<p>Jones and Halligan set up their sighting devices in the center of the -big floor and began to project their line across the dome.</p> - -<p>One of the techs came running up to Allison. "If we change the driver -response threshold by seven ultrachronic levels—"</p> - -<p>"Go away, Magill. Maybe tomorrow."</p> - -<p>"But look—"</p> - -<p>"You look. I said—"</p> - -<p>A white-yellow circle appeared on the dome with a red line cross on it -like a telescope reticule. Halligan was aiming a flashlight pointer at -the dome and talking into the floor mike at the same time.</p> - -<p>"Hey, Allison! Maybe that's it?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In the circle was a pinpoint that came and went. It danced now and -then, and it sloughed into flowing shapes as it merged with the -rest of the flickering on the dome. It would have been lost in the -ever-changing light pattern of the dome if there had been no reason -to suspect it. The spot lay on a dead line across the dome from the -course of the other spots.</p> - -<p>"All right," Wilson said grimly. "We've got no more scouts to go look. -Turn this crate head-on for that trace and we'll barrel!"</p> - -<p>Slowly the presentation in the dome shifted. The almost lost spot rose -until it was dead above.</p> - -<p>"Pour on the coal!" yelled Wilson. "We've got to get there first!" He -grabbed for the infrawave phone and cried, "Hello, out there! Lifeship -Three, we've sighted you! We'll be with you in—" He glanced at -Allison. "How far are they?"</p> - -<p>Allison shook his head. "That's one of the limitations. We can detect, -and display in solid angle azimuth, but we haven't got to the ranging -yet."</p> - -<p>Wilson said a few words that should never have gone out over the -infrawave. Then he said into the phone, "Well, we've sighted you, -anyway, and we'll be with you soon." And to Manning he said, "I hope to -God they've got their receiver on...."</p> - -<p>Linus Brein said, "I didn't catch part of that. New words for the -files, I guess."</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri said, "Probably a few words of condemnation over the fact -that their detector doesn't range."</p> - -<p>"I'll catalogue them so."</p> - -<p>"Do that. Maybe we can ask their specific meaning at some later date. -But I'd not be inclined to bark those words at one of them to see what -happens. It might happen. Linus, how do we stand with them?"</p> - -<p>Linus consulted a chart. "They're a little closer to the life ship than -we are. But we're faster."</p> - -<p>"Faren, can't we get any more speed?"</p> - -<p>Faren Twill shrugged. "We've a destroyer escort," he said. "If we don't -mind leaving the destroyers behind."</p> - -<p>"Pour it on," said Viggon Sarri sharply. "Then have the destroyers fan -out in an intercept pattern just in case...."</p> - -<p>"Cold," said Alice in a thin voice.</p> - -<p>But it was not really cold; it was the giving up of all hope, the -turning off of all will to live, that made her cold.</p> - -<p>Norton cradled her in his arms and thought of how this would have been -if they had been snug and warm a-planet, instead of lost and alone -in space. Her slender body against him did not bring passion, but -compassion. He stroked her head and tried to warm her shivering body.</p> - -<p>Andrews still lay in a coma.</p> - -<p>Jock Norton looked over Alice's shoulder at a wall cabinet. In that -cabinet were some capsules that would bring a merciful end before -the real suffering began. Andrews probably wouldn't need one. But -maybe—maybe—</p> - -<p>Slowly, as if doing something against his will, Norton disentangled -Alice's arms. Gently, lest she stir and cry out in fear, he broke her -hold on him and stroked her arms for a moment. He slipped his own arm -out from beneath her neck and held her with his other arm for a second -or two.</p> - -<p>She was moaning faintly, staring at the ceiling and not really aware of -what he was doing. He slipped off the bunk and walked across the room -unsteadily.</p> - -<p>Slowly he went, for the idea in his mind was against his determination. -He cursed the ruined transmitter, and snarled under his breath at the -broken receiver. Then he fiddled with the catch of the cabinet, his -fingers obeying his subconscious, instead of his not too firm will.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He took two capsules from the bottle and went back to Alice with them -in his hand. He had reached, was standing beside her, when he looked at -his closed fist and decided to wait it out one more minute before he -popped one into her mouth and took the other one himself.</p> - -<p>For life, as poor and precarious as it was at this moment, and as -likely as it was to get worse, was still better than taking that long, -unknown and unpredictable step into the Long Dark.</p> - -<p>His minute passed all too quickly.</p> - -<p>Alice shuddered and pressed against him. "Ted," she pleaded weakly. -"Ted—hold me."</p> - -<p>"Yes, darling," he said softly. There was no point in hurting her any -more. Let her think he was Ted, if that was the way she wanted it.</p> - -<p>Andrews stirred, and groaned.</p> - -<p>Norton looked at him, frowning thoughtfully. Maybe Andrews should have -his easy out, too. It would be tough on the guy to come to, and find -himself the only live one in the ship, and of course not know where to -find the remedy.</p> - -<p>The pilot decided to stall for another minute. He'd get another capsule -and slip it to Andrews. Then he would hold Alice once more and keep her -happy, thinking he was Ted.</p> - -<p>"One moment more, honey," he breathed into her ear, then kissed it -gently. "I've got to get you something."</p> - -<p>"Hurry," she murmured.</p> - -<p>Hurry? Yeah! Get it over with!</p> - -<p>The trip across to the cabinet was longer this time, for the idea was -still rubbing him the wrong way.</p> - -<p>"Aw, hell!" he grunted, as he reached for the bottle again.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">XI</p> - - -<p>As Commodore Theodore Wilson eyed the infrawave detector presentation -on the dome of the detector ship, he groaned. The presentation of -targets was stronger now. At the apex of the dome was the lifeship, its -response waxing and waning, but always strong enough to stay visible -even at its lowest ebb.</p> - -<p>Some forty or fifty degrees down the hemisphere was the stronger -response of the enemy warcraft, hanging motionless in the dome. The -group of spacecraft that had come with it were dispersed in some -complicated pattern. Most of these were lost in the tricky shift of -the spurious lighting of the dome. Others had disappeared completely -because they were out of range.</p> - -<p>"Pilot!" cried Wilson. "Can't we pour on more power?"</p> - -<p>The pilot rapped his levers with the heel of his hand and shook his -head slowly. "Sorry, sir. We've been at the top of the military -emergency range all along." Occasionally he looked back over his -shoulder at the motionless enemy response in the dome.</p> - -<p>No man in the detector room needed a fancy ranging detector and a -computer to know the worst. The infrawave would not range, but it was -good enough for this. The inefficient detector and knowledge of one of -the simpler facts of navigation told the whole unhappy story.</p> - -<p>When the angular position of a distant object remains constant to the -observer in a moving vehicle, they are on collision course. And so -long as that observed angle does not change, they will remain on that -collision course, right up to the bump. Distance, or angle of attack -does not contribute or detract. The fact remains.</p> - -<p>The object may be stationary, or the observer may be stationary and -the object moving, or both may be moving, but so long as that angle -remains constant, they will collide. One may be curving and the other -in acceleration or deceleration, but if the observed angle does not -change, it's still collision.</p> - -<p>In fact, there are only a couple of exceptions to this. One is when the -subject object is astern and moving dead away <i>from</i> a collision, or -what might have been one before either ship moved onto the course. The -other is when a circle is cut with the object at dead center. Make it a -spiral and you have your course of danger.</p> - -<p>Put it in space, or on the sea, or in the air, or across the land, and -the same holds true.</p> - -<p>So the fact that the enemy warcraft hung at some forty or fifty degrees -and did not change its position meant that the detector ship and the -enemy warcraft were going to meet! And undoubtedly at the point where -the lifeship would be in the middle because the enemy was obviously -heading for that spot. When they hit, the enemy warcraft would come -through the detector dome exactly where its response now registered.</p> - -<p>"Can't we stretch something?" demanded Wilson.</p> - -<p>Manning thought about it. "We'll bust something if we—"</p> - -<p>"Then bust something!" barked Wilson.</p> - -<p>Manning and Wainright took off below, while Ted watched the spot over -his head. He tried to guess whether he was closer to the lifeship than -the enemy, or whether it was the other way around. Not that it made any -difference to the chase, but it did mean that he or the enemy was the -faster of the two.</p> - -<p>Wilson put his chips on the enemy. But until he had two sides of range -to his included angle of forty-odd degrees, no one could tell.</p> - -<p>Then the spot moved down a bare trifle, faltered, and continued to flow -slowly back toward the rim of the dome.</p> - -<p>Wilson gave a howl of victory just as the infrawave detector conked -out again. The crew scurried madly to repair the fault. He was still -looking glumly at the blank dome when the infrawave phone rang beside -him.</p> - -<p>"Wilson!" he barked in it angrily.</p> - -<p>"Wilson, I'm pleading with you to use some common sense."</p> - -<p>"Admiral Stone, I've located them! We're on our way to get them and -nothing anybody says will—"</p> - -<p>"Still disobeying orders? Still mutiny?"</p> - -<p>"My Good God, Admiral Stone! You wouldn't want me to abandon this -search now that we've located them?"</p> - -<p>"Wilson, you're out there with a crew of our top-flight infrawave -engineers, physicists, and theorists, along with about eight billion -dollars' worth of experimental gear. You're flying that responsibility -into the teeth of an enemy."</p> - -<p>"Admiral, I'm taking a calculated risk."</p> - -<p>"If you manage to get back," snapped the admiral angrily, "you'll.... -Oh, hell! It'll be better for you if you don't, that's all."</p> - -<p>The detector dome came on again, and at the same time came the first -faint failing whimper of a response from the reliable magnetic mass -detectors. Wilson eyed the small celestial globe, saw that its -angle-attack was that of the lifeship, and shouted into the phone:</p> - -<p>"Admiral, we've got 'em on the magnetics! I'll be seein' you later."</p> - -<p>He hung up the telephone on the admiral's shout of dismay....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Viggon Sarri snarled something to Regin Naylo and the second officer -went below to snarl something at the engineering crew. They went to -work shorting out the safeties and cutting out paths of attenuation.</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri read the detector with a set face and said, "Linus, we're -barely keeping pace. Losing, if anything."</p> - -<p>Linus Brein said, "You've got a half dozen one-man fighters aboard."</p> - -<p>"They're no faster than.... Wait a minute! We can blow 'em out the -forward catapult and add the catapult speed to the ship's speed."</p> - -<p>The flagship became a flurry of action. Men hauled the fighters aloft -and one by one they were hurled out of the launching tube. They kept -their added velocity and slowly, yard by creeping yard, the fighters -drew away from the mother space craft. But yard by crawling yard would -be enough by the time the whole distance was covered....</p> - -<p>Wilson said to Maury Allison, "You've got a tender ready?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"All right, then. Let's plan this operation carefully. As I see it, -we're going to have a split-second advantage, and we've got to make -good use of it."</p> - -<p>Allison eyed the dials on the magnetic-mass detector, and made some -calibrating adjustments.</p> - -<p>"From what I can tell," he said, "the lifeship is in free flight along -a course not more than ten to fifteen degrees angle from our own free -flight course. We've been in a slight-vector thrust, you know."</p> - -<p>Wilson nodded. "That's all to our advantage. Now unless I've -miscalculated, I think I can be belted out of here in your tender. I'll -make contact, then continue on until you catch up with me. Right?"</p> - -<p>"Sounds reasonable."</p> - -<p>Allison gave some orders to one of his techs. The tech punched his keys -for a half-minute and waited another ten seconds for a strip of paper -to come out of the machine in jerky sequences. He tore the paper off -when it had stopped, and handed it to Wilson.</p> - -<p>"Here," he explained, "are a group of possible time-versus-velocity -courses. Follow 'em exactly and we'll make space contact on the other -side."</p> - -<p>Wilson looked at Allison. "Wish me luck," he said.</p> - -<p>Allison nodded. "You've got it," he said quietly. "You know we're for -you, or we'd not be here."</p> - -<p>"If I don't come back—"</p> - -<p>Allison's face drew taut. "If you flop out there," he said solemnly, -"Toby Manning is next in command, and he'll be forced to follow orders -from Base. So don't flop, Ted."</p> - -<p>"I won't," promised Wilson.</p> - -<p>He fired up the tender, waited until everything was running hot and -ready, and blasted himself out of the exit port forward. He set -his magnetic detector and patch-corded it to the drive so that the -warp-generator would close down and the drive would cease at the proper -instant for deceleration in close proximity of the lifeship.</p> - -<p>Although the long-range search radar was completely useless at -velocities even approaching the speed of light, Wilson turned it on -and checked it out in readiness. He patch-ordered it also to the basic -space drive, to take over after the velocity of his ship fell below the -speed at which radar became useful.</p> - -<p>Then he waited, with one eye on the timer. The detector ship faded -behind him and was lost as his lighter spacecraft responded to the -drive.</p> - -<p>He wished helplessly for an auto-timer drive, because he knew that his -hand and eye were not accurate enough to do the job as smoothly as -he'd have liked. He wanted a bigger ship with a monster-sized drive. -One of those spaceport luggers that can hump spacers from berth to -berth would have been fine, even though they carried insufficient -storage power for anything more than close to Base operations. -He wondered whether such a ship would be too massive for fast -maneuverability, and decided to ask about that, some day.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The hundredth-second sweep hand of his watch came around and up, and -he began matching its motion with a rhythmic beat of his hand on the -reversal lever as the hand crossed the tenth-second marks. By the time -the hand was swinging close to the zero-second, his beat was close to -perfect.</p> - -<p>The hand crossed the top and Wilson beat down on the lever hard!</p> - -<p>The ship swung around in space and the drive flared out on the -forecourse as the tender began to beat its terrific velocity down. -Wilson felt that peculiar prickling of the skin that comes with a -swiftly closing warp-generator, but he knew that it was deliberate, and -not a failure.</p> - -<p>He tried to force it down faster; tried to make the driver harder. His -hand rapped the power lever again and again, ramming it against its -hard stop as if he could force the setting higher than maximum.</p> - -<p>There would be particular hell to pay when he got back home, but -he would have the personal satisfaction of having accomplished his -mission. He put the future out of his mind because he had no idea of -what kind of special hell would be given to a man who was successful, -because of disobeying orders.</p> - -<p>He watched the meter crawl down to the red mark and below. Then the -warp-generator collapsed with a jar. It was a little too soon. The -speed of the tender was still high—not above light, of course, but -high enough so that its Einstein Mass created quite a warp in space.</p> - -<p>He felt the heat leap high and knew that the tender had slowed with -the same sort of deceleration as a bullet hitting a patch of thin wool. -He did not lurch in the ship for he, himself, had the same Einstein -Mass effect. He felt a hot-sweat fever fill him as the excess mass -reconverted into energy.</p> - -<p>He shook it off, but knew that eventually he would pay for that sudden -fever, with its biological effects. Then the long-range search radar -produced a distant response and Ted Wilson put everything out of his -mind except the problem of matching velocities with the free-flying -lifeship.</p> - -<p>He called on the close-range radio, frantically pleading for those in -the lifeship to alert and be ready. He got no answer, which made him -break out in a cold sweat.</p> - -<p>The radar picked up the flight of Viggon Sarri's one-man fighters, and -Wilson looked out of the dome to see if they were within sight.</p> - -<p>They were, of course, too distant to be visible, but in the radar they -were closing fast, converging upon the lifeship from a fairly tight -solid angle. He clenched his fists and made a fast calculation. So far, -he was ahead.</p> - -<p>One of the course plots gave him a full twenty seconds at the lifeship. -Anxiously Wilson tried to urge his ship on, even though he knew very -well that the equations of time and velocity and distance provided only -a single solution that could be considered at all practical.</p> - -<p>When he caught visual sight of the lifeship, he estimated it to be no -more than three or four miles ahead. His radar confirmed that. It was -nerve-killing to wait as he closed down the separation, knowing that -the enemy fighter craft were also closing down.</p> - -<p>The infrawave chattered, "Wilson? How are we doing?"</p> - -<p>Wilson told him what was going on, and Allison urged Wilson to brace -himself. Allison talked steadily in a calm voice, knowing just how -hard it was for Wilson to sit there, a helpless victim of a pre-set, -mechanical program that promised a pre-calculated victory of time and -space and velocity.</p> - -<p>Wilson's human mind would not really be trusting calculations and -split-time electronic measurements. It would demand that he leave -his ship and run, that he take the levers and drive, that he do -something—anything—except sit there calmly and dog it through.</p> - -<p>Wilson saw the drive flares of the enemy, bright and dangerous, closing -in from a distance of a good many miles. It was mere miles, out here in -deep space where a mile was a meaningless, insignificant quantity. He -could almost feel the immensity of space around him in comparison to -the awful closeness of danger.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Wilson had expected that at least those aboard the lifeship would be -peering out of the observation port. He put himself in their place -and knew he would have been scanning the dead and merciless sky for -the first sight of a flare. But as his tender crept up alongside the -lifeship with maddening slowness, there was no sign of life aboard.</p> - -<p>It took whole seconds to match the final few yards per second per -second of decelaration against the free-flight velocity of the lifeship. -Then it took more dragging seconds to urge the tender in an alongside -course that brought lifeship and tender port to port.</p> - -<p>They matched, and Wilson hit the lever that powered the annular magnet -that snapped the two space-locks together hard enough to compress the -bellows into an air-seal.</p> - -<p>He was at the space lock before the two ships had really settled -together. He was spinning the hand wheel, then clutching at the -fast-escape lever of the lifeship.</p> - -<p>"Hike!" he bellowed, as the lifeship lock opened. "Hike! We've got -twenty seconds before—"</p> - -<p>His voice stopped dead, his heart faltered a beat, and his mind -rebelled at the shock of what he saw.</p> - -<p>Charles Andrews was lying on one bunk, his bleeding hands staining the -blanket. His breath was shallow and regular, but he was wheezing with -every breath. It was the sound made by someone who has lain far too -long in a semi-coma, until nervous system and automatic reactions have -become so dulled that phlegm in the throat does not produce a cough.</p> - -<p>Jock Norton lay on his back with his eyes not quite closed, but all -that was visible was the whites below the iris because his eyes were -turned up. His right hand dangled to the floor beside the bunk, his -left arm lay limply around the shoulders of the girl.</p> - -<p>Alice's face was buried on Norton's shoulder, her left arm flopped -loose across Norton's chest. Her right was trapped beneath her.</p> - -<p>As Wilson looked, Norton's shallow breath clogged and he began what -would have been a wallop of a cough, but his breath did not waver. His -clogged windpipe kept making little soggy noises as the wind-stream -changed in and out and in and out.</p> - -<p>On the floor a few inches away from Jock Norton's hands was a bottle of -capsules.</p> - -<p>"Hadamite!" breathed Ted Wilson helplessly.</p> - -<p>Hadamite, the synthetic drug, at once a curse and a blessing. A -blessing to a sufferer, but a curse to one who finds the false world of -self-satisfaction more pleasant than the work and worry and alternate -periods of happiness and grief of reality.</p> - -<p>Under hadamite, the slightest ambition becomes pleasantly real, desire -becomes accomplishment, doubts disappear, and fears are overcome. And -under hadamite life becomes so desirable that the mind refuses to -return to reality. With an overdose, the mind accomplishes its aims, -finds full satisfaction, then lies down to that final sleep with the -complete knowledge that everything has been done, and that there are no -more worlds to conquer.</p> - -<p>Wilson rushed to the cabinet and scrabbled among the bottles and boxes -there until he found the antidote. He filled the dropper on his way -across the cabin and pushed the end into Norton's mouth with one hand -while he levered Alice over on her back with the other. He discharged -the contents of the dropper into Jock Norton's mouth, refilled it, and -squirted another load between Alice's slack lips.</p> - -<p>Brutally he pushed down and up, down and up on their chests until he -heard the sogginess slurp down their throats.</p> - -<p>Then he slugged Charles Andrews in the same way.</p> - -<p>"Twenty damned seconds!" he snarled; in bitter realization that it -would take him longer than that to carry one of them into his tender, -let alone all three.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He was standing there in the middle of the cabin, his mouth set hard -and his mind whirling with the futility of it, when Viggon Sarri's -one-man fighter group closed down and clamped onto the hull. Wilson was -cursing fervently when he felt those forces close down.</p> - -<p>The cabin floor surged gently as a sideward vector of acceleration of -Viggon Sarri's task force was applied.</p> - -<p>Ted Wilson picked up the fallen bottle of hadamite capsules and -contemplated them sourly. He might have done better by not bothering -with the antidote.</p> - -<p>He had failed completely.</p> - -<p>He had come aboard, only to find his girl in the arms of the pilot, all -of them doped and heading for a painless death. He had prevented them -from dying, but had kept them alive only to meet some unknown future at -the hands of an unknown enemy.</p> - -<p>Wilson hurled the bottle of hadamite capsules against the wall where -the first searing circle of a cutter was beginning to come through.</p> - -<p>He was shaking his fist defiantly at the wall when Viggon Sarri and -his two lieutenants came through to meet their first Earthman face to -face....</p> - -<p>In the commander's quarters aboard the flagship of the alien task -force to which Ted Wilson and the three unconscious occupants of the -lifeship had been removed, Viggon Sarri faced the Earthman. He spoke to -Wilson directly, but his voice was picked up by a microphone. Each word -he spoke went into the monster logic computer in Linus Brein's ship, -and returned to a loud-speaker that reduced Viggon Sarri's inflections -and tones to a tinny mechanical reproduction in the Terran tongue.</p> - -<p>"Please relax," he said, "and understand that we want only information."</p> - -<p>Wilson was alone now. The others had been placed under a doctor's care.</p> - -<p>"After which we get what?" Wilson demanded belligerently.</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri's voice was harsh, but it came through the loud-speaker in -a flat monotone. "Whatever course your race prefers to take!"</p> - -<p>"How's that?" asked Wilson.</p> - -<p>"Your future is up to you."</p> - -<p>"Seems to me you've been calling all the tricks."</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri nodded. "We hold every trump but one," he said. "We could -conquer you by force, or we could annex you as a subject race. We could -infiltrate you by various economic means. Or we could possibly reduce -you by attrition to a chaotic condition. But we probably could never -muster enough numerical strength to subdue you completely and make it -last."</p> - -<p>"Huh?"</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri nodded. "Regin Naylo, here, proposed that we attack and -conquer by force, not being experienced enough to realize that such a -course breeds everlasting resentment and eternal revolt. You'd fight -to the last, and those of you who were not exterminated would hide and -plot revolt until one day you'd rise to displace our rule. Faren Twill, -over there, suggested a form of benevolent protectorate which would -only breed contempt. You'd quietly learn everything you could learn -from us, then coldly turn on us and carry battle to us."</p> - -<p>"Probably."</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri nodded. "On the other hand, progress across the Galaxy -would be halted because we'd both be so busy fighting one another that -there would be little effort left over for the vast and endless program -of expanding across the countless stars."</p> - -<p>"Well?" Wilson shrugged. "It seems to me you're still calling the -cards."</p> - -<p>"We've called our last card, Commodore Wilson. From here on, as I -said, what happens in the future is up to you, and yours. Resent us, -and progress will stop. Join us as equals, and we can work together as -we spread from star to star—and I daresay there are enough stellar -systems to keep us from stepping on one another's toes." Viggon Sarri -smiled at his two lieutenants. "We have much to learn from one another, -Wilson. We can teach you patience and logic, and from you we can learn -tenacity and determination."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A member of Viggon Sarri's crew came into the room and spoke quietly -into his commander's ear in his native Bradian. He spoke in too low a -voice for it to be picked up by the microphone.</p> - -<p>Viggon said, "You'll be glad to know that your friends are all three -conscious, Commodore Wilson."</p> - -<p>"Alice is all right?" Wilson cried.</p> - -<p>"This man will take you to see her," Viggon Sarri smiled.</p> - -<p>Wilson headed for the door behind the orderly as fast as he could. By -the time the orderly had reached the portal, Wilson was almost on the -Bradian's heels.</p> - -<p>Viggon Sarri turned to his two lieutenants and said, "We can learn much -from these Earthmen. Eagerness, for instance. Eagerness—and emotional -love." He looked at his hands, flexing them outward, then inward. He -was thoughtful for some time before he said, "Lay a course to Sol, -Naylo. We'll take them all home. And you, Twill, see if you can connect -with Brade on a person-to-person private channel. I'd like to talk to -Valdya. Maybe she's as lonesome as I am now."</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPACEMEN LOST ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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