 9 The Sirius loathed along through the aether at normal acceleration just outside the orbit of Mars and a million miles north of the ecliptic plane. In the control room, which had been transformed into a bewilderingly complete laboratory, Norman Brandon strode up and down, waving his arms, his unruly black hair on end, addressing savagely his friend and fellow scientist, who sat unmoved and at ease. For cat's sake, Quince, let's get busy! They're outside somewhere, since the police have scoured every cubic kilometer within range of the power plants without finding a trace of them. We've got the power question licked right now. With these fields, we can draw 60,000 kilofranks from cosmic radiation, which has lots more than we'll ever need. We haven't drawn a franc from our plant in a month, and we've had to cut our field strength down to a whisper to keep from burning out our accumulators. We can hunt as far as Neptune easy. We can go to Alpha Centauri if we want to. This thing of piffling and monkeying around here is pulling my cork, and for the 10,467 time I say, let's prowl and prowl now! In fact, I'm getting so sick of sticking around doing nothing that I'm going out anyway, if I have to go alone in a lifeboat. Impetuous and violent as Brandon had always been. Never before had he gone to such lengths as to suggest a disruption of the partnership, and Westfall, knowing that Brandon, in his most violent moments, never threatened idly, fought long before he replied. You will not go alone, of course. If you insist upon going without further preparation, I will go, too, no matter how foolish I think such a course to be. We have power, it is true. But in all other respects, we're in no condition to meet an opponent having command of such resources as must certainly be possessed by those who attack the Arcturus. Our detectors are inefficient, our system of vision is crude, to say the least, and many other things are still in the experimental stage. We have not the slightest idea whom or what we may encounter. It is all too probable that we would simply be throwing away uselessly the lives of more good men. It is also foolish from a general viewpoint. For as you already know, we and our assistants happen to be in better position to study these things than is anyone else at the present time. However, I will compromise with you. We can learn much in a month if you will really try, instead of wasting time in fuming around the ship and indulging in these idiotic tantrums. If you will buckle down and really study the problems confronting us for thirty days, we will set out at the end of that time, ready or not. All ex, I hate to do it, but we've been together too long to bust it up now, and Brandon turned toward his bench. Scarcely had he reached it when a series of dots and dashes roared from an amplifier. Both men leaped for the receiver, which had so unexpectedly burst into sound, reaching it just as it relapsed into silence, and from the tape of the recorder they read the brief message. 47 Ganymede. .047— That's Steve! yelled Brandon. Nobody else could build an ultra-sender! Direction? No need of calculating distance or direction. Ganymede is the third major satellite of Jupiter. Sure! Of course, Quince! Never thought of that. Dope enough! .047! As Stevens had told Nadia, the message was completely informing to those for whom it was intended, and soon Brandon's answer was flying toward the distant satellite. He then started to call the officers of the Interplanetary Corporation, but was restrained by his conservative friend. It would be better to wait a while, Norman. In a few hours we'll know what to tell them. At high acceleration the Sirius drove toward the Jupiter-Earth-North plane, and Brandon calculated from his own bearings and from the current issue of the ephemeris the time at which Stevens' reply should be received. Two minutes before that time he was pacing up and down in front of the ultra-receiver, and fifteen seconds after it he snapped, "'Come on, Purse, get busy! Shake a leg!' "'Oh, come on, Norman, give him a few minutes leeway at least,' said Westfall, with amused tolerance. "'Even if your calculations are that accurate—' Which, of course, they are,' he added hastily at a stormy glance from hot black eyes. Since we received that message direct, instead of through one of our relay stations, Stevens probably has been throwing it around for hours, or perhaps days, looking for us, and the shock of hearing from us at last might have put him out of control for a minute or two. The carrier wave hissed into the receiver, forestalling Brandon's fiery reply, followed closely by the code signals they had been expecting. As soon as the story had been told, and while Brandon was absorbed in the scientific addenda of Stevens, Westfall thoughtfully called up Newton, Nadia's father. "'Nadia is alive, free, safe, well and happy,' he shot out, without preliminary or greeting, as soon as the now-lined features of the director showed upon the communicator screen, and the care-worn countenance smoothed magically into the keen face of the fighting Newton of old, as Westfall recounted rapidly the tale of the castaways. "'They, apparently, have not suffered in any way,' he concluded. "'All that Stevens wants is some cigarettes, and your daughter's needs, while somewhat more numerous than his, seem to be only clothes, powder, perfume, and candy. Therefore we need not worry about them. The fate of the others is still unknown, but there seems to be a slight possibility that some of them may yet be rescued. You may release as much, or as little of this story as may seem desirable. Stevens is still sending data of a highly technical nature. We shall arrive there at 2132 next Tuesday.' In due time the message from Ganymede ended, and Brandon, with many pages of his notebook crammed with figures and equations, snapped off the power of the receiver and turned to his bench. Gone was the storming, impetuous rebel. His body was ruled solely by the precise and insatiable brain of the research scientist. "'He's great, that kid, Purse. When I see him I'm going to kiss him on both cheeks. He's got enough dope on them to hang them higher than Franklin's kite, and we'll nail those jaspers to the cross, or I'm going to call him a polyp. He's crazier than a loon in most of his hunches, but he's filled four of our biggest gaps. There is such a thing as a ray screen, you killjoy, and there are also lifting or tractor rays, two things I've been trying to dope out and that you've been giving me the Bronx cheer on. The Titanians have had a tractor ray for ages. He sent me the complete dope on it, and the Jovians have got them both. We'll have them in three days, and it ought to be fairly simple to dope out the opposite of a tractor, too. A pusher or presser beam. Say, round up the gang, will you? While I'm licking some of this stuff into shape for you to tear apart. Where are Venus and Mars? Um... Tell El Cantro and Fadanzo to come over here pronto. Give them a special, if necessary. We'll pick up Dol Quinoor and Piras Amunar on the way. No, get them to tell us, too. Then we'll get action quicker. Those four are all I want. Get anybody else you want to come along. His hands playing over the keys of an enormous calculating machine Brandon was instantly immersed in a profound mathematical physical problem. Deaf and blind do everything about him. Westfall, knowing well that far-reaching results would follow Brandon's characteristic attack, sat down at the controls of the communicator. He first called Mars, the home planet of El Cantro and Fadanzo, the foremost force-field experts of three planets, and was assured in no uncertain terms that those rulers of rays were ready and anxious to follow wherever Brandon and Westfall might lead. This to Venus, where Dol Quinoor, the electrical wizard and Piras Amunar, the master of mechanism, also readily agreed to accompany the expedition. He then called the general-in-chief of the interplanetary police, requesting a detail of 200 picked men for the hazardous venture. These most important calls out of the way he was busy for over an hour giving long-distance instructions so that everything would be in readiness for the servicing of the immense space-cruiser the following Tuesday night. Having guarded against everything his cautious and far-seeing mind could envisage, he went over to Brandon's desk and sat down, smoking contemplatively until the idea had been roughed out in mathematical terms. Here's the rough draft of the ray screen, Quince. We generate a blanket frequency, impressed upon the ultra-carrier wave. That's old stuff, of course. Here's the novelty, in Equation 59. With two fields of force, set up from data 27 to 43, it will be possible actually to project a pure force of such a nature that it will react to de-heterodyne the blanketing frequency at any predetermined distance. That, of course, sets up a barrier against any frequency of the blanketed band. Incidentally, an extension of the same idea will enable us to see anywhere we want to look, calculate a retransmitting field. One thing at a time, please. That screen may be possible, but those fields will never generate it. Look at Datum 31, in which your assumptions are unsound. In order to make any solution at all possible, you have assumed cosine squared theta negligible. Mathematically, it is, of course, vanishingly small compared to the first power of the cosine. But fields of that type must be exact, and your neglect of the square is indefensible. Since you cannot integrate with the squared term in place, your whole solution fails. Not necessarily. We'll go back to 29 and put in sine squared theta minus 1 equal to z sub 4. That gives us a converse to sine in 30, and then we integrate. Thus the argument raged, and all the assistance whose work was not too pressing gathered around unobtrusively, for it was from just such fierce discussions as this that the ultra-radio and other epic-making discoveries had come into being. Yard after yard of calculator paper was filled with equations and computations. Weirdly shaped curves were drawn, with arguments at every point, arguments hot and violent from Brandon, from Westfall, cold and precise, backed by lightning calculations and with facts and diagrams culled from the many abstruse works of reference, which by this time literally covered the bench and overflowed upon the floor. It was in this work that the strikingly different temperaments and abilities of the two scientists were revealed. Brandon never stood still, but walked around jerkily, chewing savagely at the stem of an ancient and reeking pipe, gesticulating vigorously. The while his keen and agile mind was finding a way over, around or through, the apparently insuperable obstacles which beset their path. By means of mathematical and physical improvisations, which no one, not inspired by sheer genius, could have evolved. Westfall, seated quietly at the calculator, mercilessly shredded Brandon's theories to ribbons, pointing out their many flaws with his cold, incisive reasoning and with rapid calculations of the many factors involved. Then Brandon would find a remedy for each weakness in turn, and when Westfall could no longer find a single flaw in the structure, they would toss the completed problem upon a table and attack the next one with unabated zeal. Brandon, in his light remark that the two made one real scientist, had far understated the case. Those two brains, each so powerful and each so perfectly complimenting the other, comprised the master scientist who was to revolutionize science completely in a few short years. To such good purpose did they labor that the calculations were practically finished by the time they reached the earth. There the ship was serviced with a celerity that spoke volumes for the importance of their mission, even the Aldebaran, the dazzlingly gold-plated queen of the fleet, weighted unattended and disregarded on minus time, while the entire force of the interplanetary corporation concentrated upon the battle-scarred old hulk of the Sirius. Brandon was surprised when he saw the two companies of police, but characteristically accepted without question the wisdom of any decision of his friend, and cordially greeted Inspector General Crowninshield only a year or so older than himself, but already in charge of a division. Keen-looking bunch, Crown! Lot of different outfits! Volunteers for special duty from the whole Tullurian force? Yes, everybody wanted to go, and they're threatened to be trouble over the selection, so we picked the highest ratings from the whole service. If there ever was such a thing as a picked force, we shall have it with us. What do you mean, us? You aren't going, are you? Try to keep me from it. The names of all five of us IGs were put in a hat, and I was lucky. Well, you may come in handy at that, Brandon conceded. And here's the big boss himself. Hi, Chief! Ho, Brandon! Ho, Westfall! Newton, Chairman of the Board of Directors of the IPC, shook hands with the two scientists. Your Martians and Venerians are in Lounge 15. I suppose that you have a lot of things to thrash out, so you may as well start now. Everything is being attended to. I'll take charge now. You going along too? asked Brandon. Going along too? I'm running this cruise! Newton declared. I may take advice from you on some things and from Crown and Shield on others, but I am in charge. All X! It's a relief at that! And Brandon and Westfall went to join their fellow scientists in the designated room of the Space Cruiser. What a contrast was there as the representatives of three worlds met. All six men were of the same original stock, or of a similar evolution. Science has not, even yet, decided the question definitely. Their minds were very much alike, but their respective environments had so variently developed their bodily structures that to outward seeming they had but little in common. Through countless thousands of generations the Martians had become acclimated to a planet having little air, less water, and characterized by abrupt transitions from searing heat to bitter cold, from blinding light to almost impenetrable darkness. Eight feet tall and correspondingly massive they could barely stand against the gravitational force of the Earth, almost three times as great as that of Mars, but the two Martian scientists struggled to their feet as the terrestrials entered. As you were, fellows, lie down again and take it easy, Brandon suggested, in the common interplanetary tongue. We'll be away from here very soon, then we can ease off. We greet our friends standing as long as we can stand, and towering a full two feet above Brandon's own six feet two, Alcantro and Fadanzo in turn engulfed his comparatively tiny hand in a thick shelled paw and lifted briefly the inner lids of the quadruply shielded eyes. For the Martian skin is not like ours. It is of incredible thickness, dry, pliable, rubbery, and utterly without sensation, heavily lined with fat and filled throughout its volume with tiny air cells, which make it an almost perfect nonconductor of heat, and which prevent absolutely the evaporation of the precious moisture of the body. For the same reasons their huge and cat-like eyes are never exposed, but look through sealed, clear windows of membrane, over which may be drawn at will one or all of four pairs of lids. Transparent, insensible, non-freezable, air-spaced insulators. Even the air they exhale carries from their bodies a minimum of the all-important heat and moisture, for the passages of their nostrils did not lead directly to the lungs, as do ours. They are merely the intakes for a tortuous system of tubes comprising a veritable heat exchanger, so that the air finally expelled is in almost perfect equilibrium with the incoming supply in temperature and in moisture content. A grayish tan in color, naked and hairless, though now out of deference to the terrestrial conventions wearing light robes of silk, indifferent alike to any extreme of heat or cold, light or darkness. Such were the two forbidding beings who arose to greet their terrestrial friends, then again reclined. I suppose that you have been given to drink? Westfall made sure that they had been tendered the highest hospitality of Mars. We have drunk full deeply, thanks, and it was not really necessary, for we drank scarcely three weeks ago. Brandon and Westfall turned then and greeted the two venerians, as different from the Martians as they were from the terrestrials. Of earthly stature, form and strength, yet each was encased in a spacesuit stretched like a drum head, and would live therein or in the special venerian rooms of the vessel as long as the journey should endure. For the atmosphere of Venus is more than twice as dense as ours, is practically saturated with water vapor, carries an extremely high concentration of carbon dioxide, and in their suits and rooms is held at a temperature of 110 degrees Fahrenheit. The lenses of their helmets were of heavy, yellowish red composition, protecting their dead white skins and red eyes from all actinic rays. For the venerian lives upon the bottom of an everlasting sea of fog, and his thin epidermis, utterly without pigmentation, burns and blisters as frightfully at the least exposure to actinic light as does ours at the touch of a red hot iron. Out in space at last, losing idly with the acceleration set at a point bearable for the Martians, Westfall called the meeting to order, and outlined the situation facing them. Brandon then handed around folios of papers, upon which the venerians turned the invisible infrared beams of the illuminators upon their helmets, thus flooding them with the light to which their retinas were most responsive. Here's the data, Brandon began. As you see from Sheet One, we can already draw any amount of power we shall need from cosmic radiation alone. Perpetual motion, ridiculous! Snap from the sending disk upon the helmet of the master of mechanism. Not at all, Amunar, put in his fellow venerian. Any more than a turbo-generator at the foot of a waterfall is perpetual motion. Those radiations originate we know not where, probably as a result of intra-atomic reactions. The fields of force of our hosts merely intercept these radiations, as a water-driven turbine intercepts the water. We merely use a portion of their energy before permitting them to go on, to we know not what end. Truly you have made a notable achievement in science to lurian friends, and we congratulate you upon its accomplishment. Please proceed. Upon the following sheets are described the forces employed by the Jovians, as we shall call them until we find out who or what they really are. We will discuss these forces later. For each force we have already calculated a screen, and we have also calculated various other forces of our own, with which we hope to arm ourselves before we reach Ganymede. The problems facing us are complex, since there are some 9,000 force bands of the order in which we are working, each differing from all the others as much as torque differs from tension, or as much as red differs from green. Therefore we have appealed to you for help, knowing that we could do but little alone. Alcantro and Fadanzo will supervise the construction of the generators of the various fields from these calculations. Dol Quinoa will correlate power and electricity to and with the fields. Westfall and I will help work out the theoretical difficulties as they arise. Pyraz Aminar, who can devise and build a machine to perform any conceivable mechanical task, will help us all in the many mechanical difficulties we shall certainly encounter. Discussion of any point is now in order. Step by step and equation after equation the calculations and plans were gone over, until every detail was clear in each mind. Then the men bent to their tasks, behind them not only the extraordinarily complete facilities of that gigantic workshop which was the Sirius, but also the full power of the detachment of police, the very cream of the young manhood of the planet. Week after Toilsome Week the unremitting labour went on, and little by little the massive cruiser of the void became endowed with an offensive and defensive armaments incredible. An armament conceived in the fertile and daring brain of a sheer genius, guided only by the knowledge that such things were already in existence somewhere. Reduced to working theory by a precise mathematical logician. Translated into fields of force by the greatest known experts. Powered by the indefatigable efforts of an electrical wizard. Made possible by the artful mechanical devices of the greatest inventor that three worlds had ever known. Thus it was that they approached Ganymede. Ready, with blanketing screens full out, save for one narrow working band and with a keen-eyed observer at every plate. When even the hypercritical Westfall was convinced that their preparations were as complete as they could be made with the limited information at hand, Brandon directed a beam upon the satellite and tapped off a brief message. Stevens Ganymede will arrive in about ten hours. Direct carrier beam towards Sun. We can detect it and will follow it to wherever you are, serious. IPV serious, came the reply. Everything here, all X. Glad to see you. Thanks, Newton and Stevens. Brandon, at the controls, scanning his screens narrowly, dropped the vessel down to within a mile or two of the point of origin of Stevens' carrier beam without incident. Then spoke to Westfall at his side with a grin. Nice lay-out the kids got down there, Quince. It's too bad. Don't look like we're going to get any action for our money at all. So shame, too. What's the use of wasting it now that we've got it all made? We are not done yet, cautioned Westfall, and even as he spoke an alarm bell burst into a strident clamor, one of their far-flung detector screens was telling the world that it had encountered a dangerous frequency. The new ultralights flared instantly along the line automatically laid down by the detector, and upon the closely-ruled micrometer screen of Brandon's desk there glowed in natural color the image of a globular spaceship, approaching them with terrific speed. Men all stationed, of course, crown. Stationed and ready. Crown and shield, phones at his ears and microphone at his lips, was staring intently into his own plate. Kind of think I'll do most of it from here, but you can't always tell. If they get inside my guard you all know what to do. All X. Expecting another such hollow victory as the other hex and vessel had won over the defenseless Arcturus, the small stranger flashed nearer and nearer that huge and featureless football of armor-steel. Within range she'd launched her flaming plane of energy, but this time that Jovian's sheet of force did not encounter unprotected and non-resisting steel. Upon the outer ray screen, flaming white into incandescent defense, the furious bolt spent itself and in the instant of the launching of the searing blade of flame, Brandon had gone into action. Switch after switch drove home, and one after another those frightful fields of force, those products of the mightiest minds of three planets were hurled out against the tiny Jovian sphere. Driven as they were by the millions upon millions of horsepower stored in the accumulators of the Sirius, they formed a coruscating spherical shell of intolerable energy all around the enemy vessel, but even their prodigious force was held at bay by the powerful defensive screens of the smaller spaceship. But attack the Jovian could not. Every resource at her command being necessary to fend off the terrific counter-attack of her intended prey as she turned in flight. Small and agile as she was, the enormous mass of the Sirius precluded any possibility of maneuvering with the Jovian, but Brandon had no intention of maneuvering. Rapid as the motions of the stranger were, and frantic as was her dodging, the terrific forces of the tractor-beams of the interplanetary vessel held her in an unbreakable grip, and although she dragged the massive Sirius hither and thither, she could not escape. Hmm! mused Brandon. We seemed to be getting nowhere fast. How much power were we using, Mack, and how much we got coming in? Output eighty-five thousand kilofranks, replied McDonald, the first assistant. Intake forty-nine thousand. Not so good. Can't hold out forever at that rate. Shove out the receptor screens to the limit and drive them. They figure a top of sixty thousand, but we ought to pick up a little extra from that blaze out there. Drive them full out, or up to sixty-five, whichever comes first. Can't seem to crush his screens, so I guess we'll have to try something else. And a thoughtful expression came over his face as he slowly extended his hand toward another switch, with a questioning glance at Westfall. Better not do that yet, Norman. Use that only as a last resort after everything else has failed. Yeah, I'm scared to death of trying it, and it isn't necessary yet. He must have an open slit somewhere to work through, just as we have. I'll feel around for it a while. Is there any way of heterodining the new visoray upon the exploring frequency? Hmm! Never thought of that. It would be nice, too. I think we can do it, too. Watch them quince and holler if they start anything. He abandoned his desk and established the necessary connections between the visoray apparatus and the controls of his board. There was a fierce violet-white glare from the plate as he closed the switch, and he leaped back with his hands over his eyes, temporarily blinded. Wow! That's hot stuff, he exclaimed. It works, all X, to the Queen's taste, as he donned his heavy ray goggles and resumed his place. After making certain that the visoray was precisely synchronized and phased with the searching frequency, he built up the power of that beam until it was using twenty thousand kilofranks. Then, by delicately manipulating the variable condensers and inductances of his sensitive shunting relay circuits, he slowly shifted that frightful rod of energy from frequency to frequency, staring into the brilliant blankness of his micrometer screen as he went so. After a few minutes of search, the screen darkened somewhat, revealing the image of the Jovian Globe. Brandon instantly shifted into that one channel the entire power of his attack, steadying the controls to bring the sphere of the Jovians into the sharpest possible focus, knowing that he had found the open slit and that through it there was pouring upon the enemy the full power of his terrible weapon. In the fraction of a second before the Jovians could detect the attack and close the slit, he saw a portion of the wall of their vessel flare into white heat and literally explode outward in puffs and gouts of flaming molten metal and of incandescent gases. But the thrust, savage as it was, had not been fatal and the enemy countered instantly. Now that the crushing force of the full coverage attack was lessened for a moment, through another slit there poured a beam of energy equal to the terrestrial zone, a beam of such intense power that the outer screen of the Sirius flared from red through the spectrum, to and beyond the violet, and went black in less than a second, and the inner screen had almost gone down before Brandon's lightning hands could restore the complete coverage that so effectively blanketed the forces of the enemy. Well, we're back to the status quo, announced Brandon calmly. It's a good gag they didn't have time to locate our working slit. If they had pushed that stuff through our open channel, we'd have gotten frizzle up some around the edges. As it was, we got the edge on that exchange. Take it from your Uncle Dudley, Quintz. That bird knows that he's been nudged. Again he searched the entire band for an opening but could find none. The enemy had apparently retired into a tightly closed shell of energy. The small vessel no longer struggled nor even moved but was merely resisting passively. Not an open channel, not even one for him to work through. He can't wiggle. Well, that won't get him anything. We're so much bigger than he is that we can outlast him and we'll get him some time since he's bound to run out of power before we do. I don't believe he can receive anything, sealed up as he is. And he can't have accumulators even more efficient than ours to make up the difference. Can he, Quintz? It is quite possible. For instance, although we have never heard of any progress being made along such lines, it has been pointed out repeatedly that synthesis of a radioactive element of very high atomic weight would theoretically yield an almost perfect accumulator. One many thousands of times as efficient as ours in mass-to-energy ratio. Then, too, you realize, of course, that there is a bare possibility that intra-atomic energy may not be absolutely impossible. Next on that, Quintz. I'll stand for a lot but not for that last idea. It's hard to say that anything's impossible, of course, except things made so by definition or by being contrary to observational facts. But the best work shows that intra-atomic energy is just about as impossible as anything can be. It has been shown pretty conclusively that all ordinary matter is already in its most stable state, so that work must be done upon any ordinary atom to decompose it. Besides, if he had either radioactive accumulators or intra-atomic energy, he would have cut us up long ago. Nope, the answer is that he's probably yelled for help and is trying to hold out until it gets here, was Brandon's rejoinder. What can we do about it? asked Quintz. Don't know yet. I do know, though, that we aren't half as ready for trouble as I thought we were. There's a dozen things I want to do that I can't because we haven't got the stuff. Don't say I told you so, either. I know you did. You're the champion, ground and lofty thinker of the century. Alcantro. Here? Round up the gang, will you, and figure me out a screen and a set of meters that will indicate an open band? We lose too much time feeling around anyhow, and we're too apt to take one on the chin while we're doing it. Also, you ought to make it so it'll shoot a jolt into the opening while you're at it," said Brandon. We shall begin at once, and the massive Martian, as he replied, stepped over to the calculating machine. Well, Quintz, we can't do much to him this way. He's crawled into a hole and pulled the hole in after him. Gosh, I wish we had more stuff. After all, we have everything whose necessity and practicability could have been foreseen in the light of our information. We can, of course, go further. You chirped it. But we can't let things ride this way, or we'll get our hair singed. We'll have to decorate him with the grand slam, I guess. Yes, it seems as though the time for emergency measures has arrived. Put everything on the center of the band? That is probably the best frequency to use in a case of this kind. He can't control, so we'll push him down close to the ground before we go to work on him, so we don't have so far to fall if anything goes screwy with the works. Here's hoping nothing gives away. The Sirius, almost against the flaming screens of the Jovian, and both vessels very close to the surface of the satellite, Brandon tested the power leads briefly, adjusted dials and coils, then touched the button which actuated the relays. Relays which in turn drove home the gigantic switches that launched a fearsome and as yet untried weapon. Instantly released, the full 700,000 kilofranks of their stupendous batteries of accumulators drove into the middle frequency of the attacking band, and Brandon's heart was in his mouth as he stared into the plate to see what would happen. He saw everything in the Sirius held fast, and under the impact of the inconceivable plane of force, the screens of the enemy vessel flared instantly into an even more intense incandescence, and in that same fleeting instant went down, and all defences vanished as the metal sphere fell apart into two halves, as would an apple under the full blow of a broad axe. Brandon quickly shut off his power and stared in relief into the central compartment of the globular ship of space, now laid open and saw their figures, one or two of which were moving weakly. As he looked, one of these feebly attempted to raise a peculiar, tubular something toward a helplessly fettered body. Even as Brandon snatched away the threatening weapon with a beam of force, he recognized the captive. Great cat! There's Breckenridge! he gasped and directed a lifting beam upon the bound and unconscious prisoner. Rapidly, but carefully, he was brought through the double airlock and into the control room, where his shackles were cut away and where he soon revived under vigorous and skillful treatment. Any more of you in there? Did I hit any of you with that beam? demanded Brandon intensely as soon as Breckenridge showed signs of understanding. King's in there somewhere, and there's a Calystonian human that you mustn't kill, the chief pilot replied, weakly and with great effort in every word. Don't believe that you hit anybody direct, but the shock was pretty bad. Having delivered his message, he lay back, exhausted. All ex, crown, give me a squad! Not on your life! barked the general. This is my job, and I'll do it myself. Your job is fighting the serious. Stay with it. Not in seven thousand years! I mean on this too," Brandon protested, but was decisively overruled by Newton. You belong right here at this board, since no one else can handle it the way you can. Stay here," he commanded. All right! grudgingly assented the physicist and held the serious upright with her needle-sharp stern buried a few feet deep in the ground. He watched the wreckage jealously while crown and shield and forty helmeted men issued from the service door in the lower ultralight compartment and advanced upon the two halves of the enemy vessel. As no hostile demonstrations ensued, scaling ladders were quickly placed, and with weapons at the alert the police boarded the hemispheres, manacled the still helpless beings visible, and after laying down a fog of stupefying gas, vanished into compartments beyond the metal partitions. After a short time they reappeared and climbed down the scaling ladders, carrying several inert forms, and Brandon spoke into his transmitter. King Allex, crown and shield? I think so. Not being in the control room, he was not as badly shocked by the passage of the beam as were Breckenridge and those you saw. The things in the other rooms were about ready to fight, so we gave them a little whiff of Tritilemen, but Captain King will be as good as ever in a few minutes. Fine business! The police entered the Sirius, the service doors clang shut, and Brandon turned to Westfall. While they're coming up, I guess I'll pick up Purse and Miss Newton. We'd better get them aboard and beat it while we're all in one piece. But even before he could send out the exploring beam of his communicator, the voice of Stevens came from the receiver. Hi, Brandon in Westfall. We've watched the whole show. Congratulations, fellows. Welcome to Ganymede. You are in our valley. We're upstream from you about three hundred meters, just below the falls on the meadow side. Allex, Brandon acknowledged. We saw you. Come on out where we can pick you up. We've got to get away from here and get away fast. We'll carry off the pieces of that ship, too, Quince. We may be able to get a lot of pointers from it. And Brandon swung mighty tractor beams upon the severed halves of the Jovian vessel, then extended a couple of smaller rays to meet the two little figures racing across the smooth green meadow toward the Sirius. CHAPTER X The time for landing of the Sirius was drawing near, and the castaways upon Ganymede had done their only suits of earthly clothing, instead of the makeshifts of moleskin, canvas, and leather they had been wearing so long. Thorns and underbrush had pierced and torn their once-natty outing costumes, and sparks and flying drops of molten metal from Stephen's first crude forges had burned in them many gaping holes. I did the best I could with them, Steve, but they looked pretty crummy. Nadia wrinkled her nose as she studied the anything but invisible seams, darns, and staring patches everywhere so evident, both in her own apparel of gray silk and in the heavy whip-cord clothing of her companion. You did a great job, considering what you had to work with, he reassured her. Besides, who cares about a few patches? I feel a lot more civilized in my own clothes, don't you? Well, yes, she admitted. They're silk, anyway, even if they don't look like much, and I'm just reveling in the feel of them next to me after the horrible, rough, scratchy things I've been wearing. See anything yet? Not yet. Stevens had been scanning the heavens with a pair of binoculars. That doesn't mean much, though, as they'll be just about in the sun and they'll be coming like a scared dog. Might as well put away these glasses. We probably won't be able to see them until the ride on top of us. What shall we take with us? Don't know. Nothing probably, since they must have a campaign already mapped out. I'd like to salvage a lot of this junk, but I'm afraid we won't be able to. I'm going to take my bow and arrows, though, aren't you? Absolutely! That's one thing that's better than anything I ever had on earth. This bow of mine is perfect. There they are! Three rousing cheers! Say, but that old hulk looks good to me. Doesn't she, though, cried Nadia, vibrant with excitement? You know, Steve, I've hardly dared really to believe it until this very minute. Oh, look! What's that? The Sirius had stopped in mid-air and they could see, far in the distance, the tiny sphere of the Jovians rushing to the attack. Oh, how horrible! cried the girl, her voice breaking. I'm afraid, Steve. You needn't be ace. I've told you they won't go off half cocked as long as Westfall is on the job. They're ready for anything, or they wouldn't be here. But just the same, I wish that they had that titanium mirror and a couple of those bombs. In a moment more, the Jovian plane of force was launched, the powerful ray screens flared into white hot, sparkling defence, and the battle was on. Held spellbound as the castaways were by that spectacular duel, yet Stephen's trained mind warned him of the perils of their position. Grab your bow and we'll beat it, and he rapidly led her away from the steel structures into an open hillside, well away from any projection, tree, or sharp point of rock. If that keeps up very long we're going to see some real fireworks, and I don't know whether there will be enough left of our plant here to salvage or not. Everything's grounded, of course, but I don't believe that ordinary grounds will amount to much against what's coming. What are you talking about? demanded Nadia. Look! he replied, pointing, and as he spoke a terrific bolt of lightning launched itself from the incandescent screen of the Jovian vessel upon their slender ultra-radio tower, which subsided instantly into a confused mass of molten and twisted metal. As the power of the beams was increased and as the combatants drew nearer and nearer the ground, the lightning display grew ever more violent. Well below the canyon, as the warring vessels were, the power plant and penstock did not suffer at all, and only a few discharges struck the forlorn hope. Discharges which were carried easily to ground by the enormous thickness of our armor, but every prominent object for hundreds of yards below the hope was literally blasted out of existence. Radio tower, directors and fittings, trees, shrubs, sharp points of rock, all were struck again and again, fused, destroyed, utterly obliterated by the inconceivable energy being dissipated by those impregnable screens of force. Even almost flat upon the ground as the spectators were, each individual hair upon their heads strove fiercely to stand erect, so heavily charged was the very air. Stephen's arm was blue for days, such was Nadia's grip upon it, and she herself could scarcely breathe in that mighty arm's constriction, but each was conscious only of that incredibly violent struggle, of that duel to the death being waged there before their eyes with those frightful weapons hitherto unknown to man. They saw the serious triumphant, and Stephen's led the dancing girl back into their dwelling of steel. Danger's all over now. Radio's gone, but we should fret a lot about that. It has done its stuff. We can use the communicators. And now, sweetheart, I'm going to kiss you for the first time in seven lifetimes. Locked in each other's arms, they watched the scene until Stephen's thought at time to send his message. Then, running hand-in-hand toward the huge space cruiser, they were snatched apart and drawn up toward the double airlocks of the main entrance. Pressure gradually brought up to normal. They were ushered into the control room, where Nadia glanced around quickly, and almost took her father off his feet by her tempestuous rush into his arms. Oh, Daddy Darling! I just knew you'd come along. I haven't seen you for a million years," she exclaimed rapturously. And Bill, too. Wonderful! As she fervently embraced a young man wearing the uniform of a lieutenant of interplanetary police. Ouch, Bill! You're breaking all my ribs! Well, you crack three of mine. Maybe you don't know how husky you are, but you've got to squeeze like a full-grown boa constrictor. He held her off at arms length and studied her with admiration. Gee, it's fine to see you again, sis. You're looking great, too. I think I'll bring my girl out here to live. You always were a knockout, but now you're the loveliest thing I ever saw. He made his way through the group surrounding Stephen's while Nadia and her father talked earnestly. I'm Bill Newton. Thanks," he said, simply holding out his hand which was taken in a bone-crushing grip. Bring him over here, Bill," Nadia called, before Stevens could find a reply. I don't know how to say anything, Stevens, the officer continued in embarrassment as the two men turned to obey the summons. She's a good kid, and we think a lot of her. We'd about given her enough. We...she... Oh, rats, what's the use? You know what I mean. You're there, Stevens, like a... Clamidace, Stevens interrupted. I get you, to nineteen decimals. And you don't have to know just what a good kid she really is. She's the reason we're here. We were down pretty close to bedrock for a while. She stood up when I wilted. She's got everything. She... Clamid yourself, Steve. Don't believe a word of it, Dad and Bill. Wilt," Nadia's voice dripped scorn, why, he did...please," Newton's voice was somewhat husky as he silenced the clamor of the three young people, all talking at once. I will not embarrass you further by trying to say something that no words can express. You told me that you would take care of her, and I learned that you have done so. I did what I could, but most of the credit belongs to her, no matter what she says, Stevens insisted. Anyway, sir, here she is, alive, well, and...unharmed. And his eyes bore unflinchingly the piercing gaze of the older man, who was reassured and pleased by what he read therein. One thing I want to say right now, though, that may make you feel like canceling the welcome. I loved Nadia even before the Arcturus was attacked, and since then, coming to know her as I have, the feeling hasn't lessened any. Nadia has already told me all about you, too, said her father, and the welcome stands, and if you could take care of her as well as you have done since you left the Arcturus, I have no doubt of your ability to take care of her for life. We have been examining the work you have done here, son, and the more I saw of it, the more amazed I became that you could have succeeded as you did. We are deeply indebted. Just a minute. There's my call. I'm wanted in fifteen. I'll see you again directly. Hi, Norm! Stevens further relieved the surcharged atmosphere. As soon as you and Quince can leave those controls, come over and see us, will you? All ex, coming up, sounded Brandon's deep and pleasant base, and the two rescuers, who had tactfully avoided the family reunion, came over and greeted the third of their triumvirate. Oh, purse! You look fit! Brandon ran an expert hand over Stevens' arm and shoulder. Looks as if he might last a round or two, doesn't he, Quince? You are looking fine, Steve. Neither of you appear any the worse for your experiences. So this is Nadia. We have heard of you, Miss Newton. I believe that, knowing Dad, she replied. Thanks, both of you, for digging us out. I've heard about you two, and I'm going to kiss you both. Westfall, the silent and reserved, was taken aback, but Brandon met her more than halfway. All ex, Nadia! Payment in full received and hereby acknowledged. He laughed as he allowed her feet to return to the floor. Even if it was some stout lads from Mars and Venus that did all the work, we'll take the reward, especially since Alcantro and Fadanzo couldn't feel even such a high-voltage salute as that one was. And I can't picture you kissing a venerian, even if you could get to him. Whenever you get lost again, be sure to let us know, now that you've got our address. If I know purse at all, you've heard of us till you're sick of it and us. It's a weakness of his, talking too much. Why, it's no such— began Nadia, but broke off as an aide came up and saluted smartly. Pardon me, but General Crownenshield request that Dr. Brandon, Dr. Westfall, and Dr. Stevens join the council in Lounge 15 as soon as convenient. He saluted again and turned away. Yes, that's right, folks. We've got to take a lot of steps fast. See you later. And Brandon, taking each of the other two by an arm, marched them away toward the designated assembly room. There, already seated at a long table, were Kuzov, King, and Breckenridge, all fully recovered, engaged in earnest conversation with Newton and Crownenshield. Alcantro and Fadanzo, the Martian scientists, were listening intently, as were the two venerians, Dolkinoor and Pyrazamunar. The eyes of the three newcomers, however, did not linger upon the group at the table, but were irresistibly drawn to one corner of the room, where six creatures lay in the heaviest manacles afforded by the stores of the interplanetary police. Not only were they manacled, but each was facing a ray projector, held by a soldier whose expression showed plainly that he would rather press the lethal contact than not. Oh! Those the things were fighting? Brandon stopped at the threshold and stared intently at the captive Hexens. Goggling green eyes glaring venomously, they were lying quiet but tense. Mighty muscles ready to burst into berserk activity should the attention of a guard waver for a single instant. But little more than half as large as the savage creatures with whom Stevens had fought in the mountain glade upon Ganymede, the Hexens resembled those aborigines only as civilized men might resemble gigantic primordial savages of our own earth. Brandon's gaze went from short, powerful legs, up a round red body, to the enormous, freakish double pair of shoulders, with its peculiar universal jointing. From the double shoulder sprang four limbs, the front pair of which were undoubtedly arms, terminating in large but fairly normal hands. The intermediate limbs were longer than the legs and were much more powerful than the arms, and ended in members that were very evidently feet and hands combined. What, in a human being, would be the back of the hand was the sole of the foot, when walking upon that foot the long and dexterous thumb and fingers were curled up, out of the way, and protected from injury, in the palm of the hand. From the monstrous shoulders there rose a rather long and very flexible, yet massive and columnar neck, supporting a head neither human nor bestial, a head utterly unknown to terrestrial history or experience. The massive cranium bespoke a highly developed and intelligent brain, as did the three large and expressive, peculiar, triangular eyes. The three sensitive ears were very long, erect, and sharply pointed. Each was set immediately above an eye, one upon each side of the head and one in front. Each ear was independently and instantly movable in any direction, to catch the faintest sound. The head, like the body and limbs, was entirely devoid of hair. The horns, so prominent in the savages Stevens had seen, were in this highly intelligent race but vestigial. Three small, sharp, black protuberances only an inch in length, once surmounting each ear, outlining the lofty forehead. The nose occupied almost the whole middle of the face, and was not really a nose. It developed into a small and active proboscis. The chin was receding almost to the point of disappearance, so that the mouth, with its multiple rows of small, sharp, gleaming white teeth, was almost hidden under the face instead of being a part of it. Such were the hexons at whom the big three stared in undisguised amazement. Attention, please! Newton called the meeting to order. We have learned that all the passengers of the Arcturus and all the crew, save three, are alive and safe for the time being. Most of them are upon the satellite Europa. However, I understand that we are not yet sufficiently well armed to withstand such an attack in force as will certainly develop when we move to rescue them. This seems to be a war of applied physics. Dr. Brandon, as spokesman for the scientific forces of the expedition, what are your suggestions? Anticipating an attack in response to signals probably sent out by the enemy, replied Brandon, I headed directly south immediately. We are now well south the ecliptic, and are travelling at considerably more than full Martian acceleration. Before making any suggestions, I should like to hear from Captain Kuzov, who is more familiar than we are with a common enemy. Are they apt to follow us? Can they detect us if we should drift at constant velocity? And can we search the brains of the prisoners with his calisthenic thought exchanger, if he should build one with our help? If they are close enough to us to overtake us without too much lost time, they will certainly attack us, Kuzov answered at a nod from Newton. Ordinarily, they would pursue us to the limits of the solar system, if necessary. But since they have suffered reverses of late, and cannot spare any vessels, they will probably not pursue us far. Yes, they can detect us, even without the driving rays, since this vessel uses much low tension, low frequency electricity in its automatic machinery, lights, and so on. No, our thought transformer cannot take thoughts by force, and the Hexans will exchange no ideas with us. They are implacable and deadly foes of all humanity, irrespective of planet or race. Mercy is to them unknown. They neither give nor take quarter. I can bear him out in that, crown and shield interposed grimly. The first one to recover snapped our ordinary handcuffs like so much thread, and literally tore four men to pieces before the rest of us could ray him. Will you need me longer, Director Newton? I think not, General. Captain Kuzov, you have made no headway with them, asked the Director. None whatever, as I foretold. They understand me thoroughly, since two of them speak my own tongue, but nothing that they have said can ever be repeated here. I knew from the first that all such attempts would be fruitless, but I have tried and failed. I suggest what I suggested at first, put them to death, here and now, as they lie there, for most assuredly they will in some way contrive to take toll of lives of your own humanity if you allow them to live. You may be right, said Newton, but neither the General nor myself can give the order for their death, since interplanetary law does not countenance such summary action. However, the guards are fully warned of the peril, and will ray every prisoner at the first sign of unruliness. General Crown and Shield, you may remove the prisoners and deal with them in accordance with— Pandemonium Reigned. At Crown and Shield's signal for the guards to leave the room with their captives, all six had strained furiously at their bonds, and three of them had broken free in a flash, throwing themselves upon the guards with unthinkable ferocity. Stevens, seeing a ray projector in a hand of one of the prisoners, hurled his heavy chair instantly and with terrific force. The projector flew into the air, shattered and useless, while the Hexen was knocked into a corner by the momentum of the massive projectile, and lay there, stunned and broken. Brandon, likewise reacting instantaneously, had bent over and seized a leg of the table, bracing his knee against the corner. With a mighty lunge of his powerful body, he wrenched out the support, and with a continuation of the same motion he brought the jagged oak head of his terrible club down full upon the crown of the second Hexen, who had already torn one guard apart and was leaping toward Kazov, his hereditary foe. In mid-flight he was dashed to the floor, his head a shapeless, pulpy mass, and Brandon, bludgeon again aloft, strode deeper into the fray. For a brief moment, searing lethal beams probed here and there, chains clanked and snapped, once more that ponderous and irresistible oaken mace fell like the hammer of Thor, again spattering brains and blood abroad as it descended. Then again came silence. The six erstwhile prisoners lay dead, but they had taken five of the guards with them, literally dismembered, hideously torn limb from limb by the superhuman, incredible physical strength and utter ferocity of the Hexens. By common consent the meeting was adjourned to another room, for the business in hand could not be postponed. Captain Kazov was right, we Talurians could not believe in the existence of such a race without the evidence of our own senses. Newton reopened the meeting. From this time on we take no prisoners. Dr. Brandon, you may resume. The detectors and lookouts will give ample warning of any attack, and Dr. Westfall has suggested that we should have all possible facts at hand before we try to decide upon a course of action. We should like to hear the full reports of Captain King, Captain Kazov, Chief Pilot Breckenridge, and Dr. Stevens. The four men told their stories tersely and rapidly, while the others listened in deep attention. As the last speaker sat down, Ben again turned to Brandon, who silently jerked his head at Westfall, knowing his own inadequacy in such a situation, realizing that here was needed Westfall's cold and methodical thinking. Director Newton and gentlemen, Westfall spoke calmly and precisely. We have much to do before we can meet the Hexens upon equal terms. We have many new fields of force and race to develop, of whose nature and necessity Dr. Brandon is already aware. Then, too, we must recalculate our visor-rays so that we can operate at greater range and efficiency. We must also examine the Hexen spaceship which is towing, to do which it will be desirable to drift at constant velocity for a time. In it we may find instruments or devices as yet unknown to us. It also occurs to me that since this is an interplanetary police problem of the first magnitude we should at once get in touch with police headquarters so that the peace fleet can be armed as we ourselves are, or shall be armed. For a large and highly efficient fleet will be necessary to do that which must be done. It is, of course, a foregone conclusion that interplanetary humanity will support the humanity of Callisto against the Hexens. It is also self-evident that we must stay here and rescue the Tullurians now upon Europa and Callisto, but we are not yet in position to decide just how that rescue is to be accomplished. Four courses are apparently open to us. First, to attempt it as soon as we shall have strengthened our armament as much as is now possible. That would invite a massed attack, and in my opinion would be foolish, probably suicidal. Second, to stand by at a distance until the rocket ship is launched, then to escort it back to the earth. Third, to aid the Callistonians as much as possible while awaiting the completion of the rocket vessel. Fourth, and perhaps the most feasible and quickest, it may be possible for the Callistonian rocket ships to bring out fellow Tullurians a few at a time, to us here out in space, since they are apparently able to come and go at will. However, I would recommend that we make no plans for the rescue as yet. There is little use in attempting to deal with an ever-changing situation until we are ready to act forthwith. I suggest that we strengthen our offensive and defensive armament first, then secure information as to the exact status of affairs, both upon Callisto and upon Europa. Then, ready to act, we will do at once whatever seems called for by the situation then obtaining. The program as outlined seems eminently sensible. Are there any comments or suggestions? None having been offered, Director Newton adjourned the meeting, and each man attacked his particular problem. True to Kossov's prediction the Hexans did not deem it worthwhile to pursue the terrestrial vessel, so obviously and so earnestly fleeing from them, and shortly the acceleration was cut off to render possible a thorough study of the two halves of the spherical worship of the enemy. Scientists donned spacesuits and studied every feature of the strange vessel, while mechanics dismantled and transferred to the Sirius every device and instrument of interest. One or two novel and useful applications of rays and forces were found, their visor rays and communicators in particular being of a high degree of efficiency. But upon the whole the science of the Hexans was found to be inferior to that now known to the scientists of interplanetary flying laboratory. Brandon studied the Hexan power system most carefully, and everything in readiness and after a long talk with Westfall he called a general conference in the control room. Gentlemen, we have done about everything we can do for the time being. By combining the best features of the visor rays and communicators of the Hexans with our own newly perfected devices we now have a really excellent system of communication. Our friends from Mars and Venus have so altered and enlarged our force controls that our offensive and defensive fields, rays and screens leave little to be desired. In power we are far ahead of the enemy. They apparently know nothing of the possibilities of cosmic radiation, but depend upon tight beam transmission from their own power plants, which transmission they have perfected to a point far beyond anything reached by us of the three planets. They do not use accumulators and therefore their dissipation is limited to their maximum reception, which is about 70,000 kilofranks. Since we can dissipate ten times that amount of energy we could withstand for a short time the simultaneous attacks of ten of their vessels. Eleven or more of them however would be able to crush our defensive screens, and Captain Kazov has seen as many as a hundred of their spaceships in one formation. Furthermore, since they have several times our maximum acceleration, they could concentrate quickly upon any desired point. We could not escape them by flight if they really set out to overtake us, which they certainly will do if we again venture into their territory. Therefore it is clear that we cannot subject ourselves to any attack in force, and it follows that we cannot do much of anything until the police fleet of some five hundred vessels can be re-armed and can join us near Callisto. This will require several months at best. As you already know, it has been decided that we should not return to any of the minor planets, as to do so might invite a Hexen attack upon our police fleet, which is as yet unprepared. We are now heading for Uranus, in the hope that such a course will distract the attention of the Hexens from Telus, even though they probably already know that we are Tolerians. Our new communicator ray will reach any member of the Jovian system from this point. It has been decided that it is safe to use it, since it employs an almost absolutely tight beam of very small diameter, and since we know that that one Hexen vessel at least had no apparatus sufficiently sensitive to detect a beam of that structure. We will therefore now get in touch with the Calistonians and with our own people. Brandon seated himself before the communicator screen, and while the others packed themselves closely around his stool he snapped on the visor ray and turned the dials which directed that invisible, immensely complex beam through space. The screen was apparently in itself a coin of vantage, flying through space with the velocity of light, and the watchers gasped involuntarily and drew themselves together, as with that unthinkable speed they flashed down toward the surface of Callisto. So realistic was the impression that they themselves were hurtling through the void that they could scarcely reason themselves into believing their positive knowledge that the impending collision was not an actual happening. Reducing the velocity of the projection abruptly as it approached the satellite, Brandon flashed it down to a crater indicated by Kuzov, and along a tunnel to the city of Zabark, where the Calistonian captain held a long conversation with the Council of the Nation. Frowning and thought, he turned to Newton and spoke seriously and slowly. Immediately after the loss of our superplane, with the supposed death of King, Breckenridge, and myself, the other Talurian officers were returned to Europa, since even they could be of no assistance to us Calistonians in our struggle against the new high-acceleration vessels of the Hexons. The present situation is much more serious than I would have believed possible. The last vessel going to visit Rusk, our city upon Europa, was caught and destroyed by the Hexons, and for many weeks no ship or message has come from there to Callisto. In spite of the fact that the Hexon fleet is smaller than ever before, they are guarding Europa very closely. It is feared that they may have found and destroyed our city there. An expedition is even now about to set out in a desperate attempt to learn the fate of our fellows. Suppose the rays of the lifeboats were detected in landing, asked Brandon. That might have given them a clue. Possibly, but it is equally possible that our own men became careless in the operation of one of our own vessels. Having been unmolested so long they might have relaxed their vigilance. We may never know. Tell them to cancel the expedition. We'll shoot the visoray over there right now and find out all about it. We'll let them know pretty quickly. Also, you might tell them that you've got complete plans and specifications for all the weapons that the Hexons have, and a couple besides, and that the quicker they shoot a ship out here after you, the sooner they can get to building some stuff to blow those Hexons clear out of space. It was the work of only a few moments to drive the visoray projection to Europa, where Kuzov, to the great relief of all, found that the Hexons had not yet discovered either Rusk or the terrestrial workings. All European humanity, fully aware of the Hexon investment, was exerting every possible precaution against discovery by the enemy. This information was duly flashed to the Council of Callisto, and the projection was then hurled across the intervening reaches of space and into the cavern in which was being built the enormous rocket ship in which the terrestrial refugees were to attempt the long voyage back to their own distant planet. It took some little time to convince Dr. Penfield that there had been projected into the empty air of his little sanctum an absolutely invisible and impalpable structure of pure force, capable of receiving and transmitting voice and vision. Once convinced of the reality of the phenomenon, however, the speaker beside Brandon's communicator screen fairly rattled under the fervor of his greeting, so great was his pleasure at the arrival of the expedition of relief, and in knowing that King and Breckenridge, whom they had, of course, given up for dead, were aboard the interplanetary vessel. Penfield reported that the work upon the great rocket ship was progressing satisfactorily, although slowly, since it was so much larger than any vessel there too foreconstructed by the Calistonians. Newton, in turn, informed the autocrat of the stranded terrestrials as to the status quo of the rescuing party. Of course, because of the Hexen blockade, you cannot take us off until they have been wiped out, which will be several months at best, the surgeon said, slowly, and a shadow came over his face as he spoke. Well, that can't be cured. Trouble with the personnel, King broke in sharply? Personnel, yes, but not trouble in the sense you mean, we have had none of that. It is only that there are four more of us now than there were. Huh? How come, demanded Brandon, in astonishment? Four babies have been born to us here so far, and several more are coming. They are the ones I'm worried about. Most normal adults can stand it here without any serious effects, but this thin atmosphere and weak gravity are certain to result in abnormal development of children. However, there may be another way out of it. Are you using normal acceleration, or have you Martians aboard? Both, replied Brandon. We are carrying two inhabitants of Mars, but Alcantro and Fadanzo are not ordinary Martians. They have been in constant training ever since we left Telus, and now they can stand as high in acceleration as a weak Talurian. We're riding at normal. Good! As you already know, there has been no communication of late between here and Callisto. It had already been decided, however, that one more voyage must be risked in order to bring back material which is most urgently needed. Since the vessel will leave here light, and is large enough to carry about thirty passengers on a short trip with some crowding, the Council will probably approve of having it carry some of our passengers out to the Sirius, especially now, since a vessel must visit you anyway, to get Captain Kazov and the specifications of the new armament. All these things can be done with one vessel in one trip. That sounds fine, boomed king. It will give me a chance to get back there where I belong, too. Whom are you sending out? The seven couples who either have babies already, or who will have them in the next few months, and some of our young who aren't standing the gaff any too well. You won't be in the red very deeply on the deal, either. While two or three of the passengers I am sending you will certainly be a nuisance, anybody could use anywhere such men as Commander Sanderson and Lute Sanderson, interrupted king, why, he wasn't, when did he get married? The day after we arrived here, replied the surgeon, his fiance was aboard the Arcturus, and when they found out how long we would have to be here, they very sensibly decided not to wait. Were there any others? demanded Nadia, who, standing between Stevens and her father, had been an interested listener. Plenty of them. Fourteen of our young women passengers have married here upon Europa. A few married fellow passengers, but most of them picked out officers of the Arcturus. You'll find your staff made up pretty largely of Benedict's now, king. We've been here a year, you know, and time will tell. Commander Sanderson's a fine baby. He'll be a credit to the IPC someday, if we can get him aboard the Sirius, where he can get a good start. We could give our babies normal air pressure here by building special rooms, but we cannot give them the normal acceleration necessary to develop their muscles properly. Well, we'd better snap over to Callisto and take this up with the council, Brandon put in. I don't imagine that there will be any objections, so you might as well get your ship gassed up and loaded. We'll be back here with the OK in about a minute and a half. With Brandon at the controls, and with Kuzov at the communicator plate, the projection flashed toward distant Callisto, and the group melted away, each man going about his interrupted task. Daddy, take us somewhere. I want to talk to you. Nadia spoke to her father, and the director led her and Stevens to his own room. All ex-daughter, out with it! And he bent over her a quizzical glance, under which a fiery blush burned from her throat to her forehead. Dad, I've been thinking a lot since you rescued us, and what we've just heard has given me the nerve to say it. Steve, of course, wouldn't dare suggest such a thing until we're safely back on Earth, so I will. Her deep brown eyes held his steadily. All those girls got married. Why, some of them have babies already, and Steve and I have waited for each other so long, Daddy, and none of them love each other the way we do, do they, Steve? I don't see how they could, sir, and that goes straight across the panel, and he bore, unflinchingly, the piercing gaze of the older man as his right arm encircled the girl and held her close. Well, why not? A sudden smile transformed Newton's stern visage. There are three chaplains with the police, a Methodist minister, a Catholic priest, and a Jewish rabbi. Also, we have on board two full-fledged IP captains, either of whom is authorized to tie matrimonial knots. The means are not lacking, if you're both sure of yourselves. And all levity disappeared as he studied the two young faces. Yes, you are sure," he continued after a moment, just as her mother and I were, and are. It is too bad that she cannot be here with you, but it may be a long time before we can return to Tullis, and you have indeed waited long. Oh, thanks, Daddy! You're just a perfectly wonderful old darling," Nadia exclaimed, as she threw her arms rapturously around his neck. And this isn't a worship at all. You know perfectly well that it's a research laboratory, and that as soon as the navy gets here, you won't let it fight a bit more, because such scientists can't be allowed to risk themselves. And also, you're forgetting that whole flock of women and babies that are coming out here just as fast as they can get themselves ready. So get going, Daddy, old dear, and let's do things. Steve's a Quaker and we're Presbyterians, so none of the chaplains will do at all. Besides, I promised Captain King ages ago that he could marry me, so go get him and we'll do it now. Bill can be my bridesmaid, you'll give me away, and Steve can have the other two of his big three for best men. I'm off to hunt up the flimsiest, fussiest white dress I can find in my trunks. Let's go. Mr. Newton Stephen spoke thoughtfully as Nadia darted away. You said something about her mother. I didn't want to say anything to raise false hopes while she was here, but I've got an idea. Let's meet in Brandon's room instead of here. We can send code to tell us easily enough on our ultrawave, and we may be able to fake up something on this occasion. A few minutes later the big three were in Brandon's private study, staring intently into a screen of ground glass upon which played flickering flashing lights, while the black-haired physicist manipulated micrometer dials in infinitesimal arcs. Once more, Mac, Brandon directed. Pretty nearly had him that time. We're stretching this projector about six hundred percent, but we've got to make this connection. Can't you give me just a little more voltage on those secondaries? I cannot, the voice of the first assistant snapped from the speaker. I'm overloading now so badly that some of my plates are getting hot. If I hold this voltage much longer, the whole secondary bank of tubes is going out. All X. You're on zero. All X. Flashing and waning, the lights upon the screen formed fleeting, shifting, nebulous images of a relay station upon distant Earth, but the utmost power of the transmitting fields couldn't either steady the image nor hold it. Back off, Mac, Brandon instructed. I'm afraid we can't hold them direct. No use blowing a bank of tubes. We'll try relaying through Mars. We can hold them there, I think. It will must up reception some, but it will probably be better than direct at that. .0536. All X. Shoot! Brandon's relay station upon Mars was finally raised and held, and a core of keenly interested engineers there made short work of the Earth-Mars linkage. Soon the screen glowed with the picture of the transmitter room of the terrestrial station, and while the three men were waiting for Mrs. Newton to be called to her own television set, the door behind them opened. Nadia and her escorts entered the room, but Stephen's eyes saw only the entrancing vision of loveliness that was his bride. Dressed in a clinging white gown of shimmering silk, her hair a golden blond corona, sweetly curved lips slightly parted and wide eyes eloquent, she paused momentarily as Stephen's came to his feet and stared at her, his very heart in his eyes. .0536. You never saw me in a dress before. Do you like me, Steve? .0536. Like you. You're beautiful. And gray eyes and brown, deep with wonder and with love, met and held, as unheeding the presence of their friends they went into each other's arms in a coalescence as inevitable and as final as fate itself. .0536. Hi, Nadia, O dear. .0536. And, daughter, from what I can see of my son-in-law, I believe that he may do. Came together from the speaker. Nadia tore herself from Stephen's embrace to see upon the lambet screen the happily smiling faces of her mother and sister. .0536. Mother, Claire! Oh, you three wonder-workers! she addressed simultaneously the distant terrestrials and the scientists at her side, while broken exclamations punctuated by ominous crackling snaps came from the laboring amplifier. .0536. Sorry to interrupt. McDonald's voice broke in. But you'll have to hurry it up. Alcantro and Fadanza were doing their best, but every plate in my secondary bank's red hot, and you could fry an egg on any one of my transformers. Even my primary tubes are running hot. She won't hold together five minutes longer. Captain King opened his book, and in that small steel room, unadorned, safe for stack upon stack of bookcases, the brief but solemn ceremony joining two young lives was read. Its solemnity only intensified by its unique accompaniment. .04 From Brandon at the primary controls, through the power room of the Sirius and the relay station upon Mars, to the immense interplanetary transmitter upon Earth, the greatest radio and television engineers of two planets were fighting overdriven equipment, trying to hold an almost impossible connection in order that Nadia Newton's mother and sister might be present at her wedding, hundreds of millions of miles distant in space. .05 I pronounce you man and wife, whom God hath joined, let no man put us under. The sacred old ritual ended, and Captain King picked up the bride in his great arms as though she were a baby, kissed her vigorously, and set her down in front of the transmitter. In the midst of the joyous confusion that ensued, a tearing, rattling crash came from the speaker, and the screen went blank. .05 There! lamented MacDonald from the power room. I knew they'd blow. There goes my whole secondary bank, eight perfectly good ten-nineteens, all shot to. That's too bad, but it couldn't be helped. They went for a good cause, interrupted Brandon. I'll come down and help clean up the mess. Leaving the bridal party, he made his way rapidly to the power room, where he found MacDonald and the two Martians inspecting the smoking remains of what had been the secondary bank of their powerful ultra-transmitter. Spare parts in abundance were on hand, and it was not long until the damaged section was apparently as good as new. .05 Now to try her out, Brandon announced. We want to give her a good workout, but there's no use trying the IP stations anymore. They're altogether too hard to handle at this range. Kuzov said something about an unknown race of monstrosities at the south pole of Jupiter. Let's try it on them for a while. He flung the field of force out into space, as responsive to his will as a well-trained horse, and guided it toward the southern limb of the gigantic world. Down and down the projector plunged through mile after mile of reeking, steaming fog, impenetrable to earthly eyes. Finally it came to rest upon the surface, hundreds of feet deep in a lush, dank, tropical jungle, and Brandon plugged into the Vanirian room. .05 Keenor, we've got a lot of use for you if you can come down here for a while. Thanks a lot! He turned to the Martians. Luckily, we've got a couple of infra-red transformers aboard, so we won't have to build one. You fellows might break one out and shudder onto the circuits while Dole Keenor is hunting up something for us to look at. .05 Hi, old infra eyes! He went on, as the Vanirian scientist waddled into the room in his bulging spacesuit. We've got something here that's right down your alley. Want to see what you can see? .05 Ah! A beautiful scene! exclaimed Dole Keenor after one glance into the plate. It is indeed a relief, after all this coldness and glare, to see such a soft, warm landscape, even though I have never expected to behold quite such a violent bit of jungle. And under his guidance the projection flashed over hundreds of miles of territory. To the eyes of the terrestrials the screen revealed only a blank, amorphous stainless, through which at times there shot lines and masses of vague and meaningless form. But the Vanirian was very evidently seeing and enjoying many and diverse scenes. .05 There, I think, is what you wish to see first, he announced, as he finally steadied the controls and Brandon cut in upon the shunting screen the infra-red transformer. This device developed long before to render possible the use of terrestrial eyes in the opaque atmosphere of Venus, stepped up the fog-piercing long waves into the frequencies of light capable of affecting the earthly retina. Instantly the dull gray blank of the shunting screen became transformed into a clear and colorful picture of the great city of the Jovians of the South. .05 Great! Cat! Brandon exclaimed. Flying fortresses is right! They're in war formation, too, or I'm a polyp. We've got to watch this Mac, all of it, and watch it close. It's apt to have a big bearing on what we'll have to do before they get done. Better we rig up another set and put a relay of observers on this job. .05 End of Chapter 10