The Skylark of Space - E. E. Smith (e book reading free txt) 📗

partially decomposed and subjecting it to some force, say an extremely heavy current. Again under the influence of the coil, a small current would explode it, wouldn’t it?”

“It looks that way, from those figures.”

“Say, wouldn’t that make some bullet? Unstabilize a piece of copper in that way and put it inside a rifle bullet, arranged to make a short circuit on impact. By making the piece of copper barely visible you could have the explosive effect of only a few sticks of dynamite⁠—a piece the size of a pea would obliterate New York City. But that’s a long way from our flying-machine.”

“Perhaps not so far as you think. When we explore new worlds it might be a good idea to have a liberal supply of such ammunition, of various weights, for emergencies.”

“It might, at that. Here’s another point in equation 249. Suppose the unstabilized copper were treated with a very weak current, not strong enough to explode it? A sort of borderline condition? The energy would be liberated, apparently, but in an entirely new way. Wonder what would happen? I can’t see from the theory⁠—have to work it out. And here’s another somewhat similar condition, right here, that will need investigating. I’ve sure got a lot of experimental work ahead of me before I’ll know anything. How’re things going with you?”

“I have the drawings and blueprints of the ship itself done, and working sketches of the commercial power-plant. I am working now on the details, such as navigating instruments, food, water, and air supplies, special motors, and all of the hundred and one little things that must be taken into consideration. Then, as soon as you get the power under control, we will have only to sketch in the details of the power-plant and its supports before we can begin construction.”

“Fine, Mart, that’s great. Well, let’s get busy!”

IV Steel Liberates Energy⁠—Unexpectedly

DuQuesne was in his laboratory, poring over an abstruse article in a foreign journal of science, when Scott came breezily in with a newspaper in his hand, across the front page of which stretched great headlines.

“Hello, Blackie!” he called. “Come down to earth and listen to this tale of mystery from that world-renowned fount of exactitude and authority, the Washington Clarion. Some miscreant has piled up and touched off a few thousand tons of T.N.T. and picric acid up in the hills. Read about it, it’s good.”

DuQuesne read:

Mysterious Explosion!

Mountain Village Wiped Out of Existence! Two Hundred Dead, None Injured!

Force Felt All Over World. Cause Unknown. Scientists Baffled.

Harper’s Ferry. March 26⁠—At 10:23 a.m. today, the village of Bankerville, about thirty miles north of this place, was totally destroyed by an explosion of such terrific violence that seismographs all over the world recorded the shock, and that windows were shattered even in this city. A thick pall of dust and smoke was observed in the sky and parties set out immediately. They found, instead of the little mountain village, nothing except an immense, crater-like hole in the ground, some two miles in diameter and variously estimated at from two to three thousand feet deep. No survivors have been found, no bodies have been recovered. The entire village, with its two hundred inhabitants, has been wiped out of existence. Not so much as a splinter of wood or a fragment of brick from any of the houses can be found. Scientists are unable to account for the terrific force of the explosion, which far exceeded that of the most violent explosive known.

“Hm⁠ ⁠… m. That sounds reasonable, doesn’t it?” asked DuQuesne, sarcastically, as he finished reading.

“It sure does,” replied Scott, grinning. “What’d’you suppose it was? Think the reporter heard a tire blow out on Pennsylvania Avenue?”

“Perhaps. Nothing to it, anyway,” as he turned back to his work.

As soon as the visitor had gone a sneering smile spread over DuQuesne’s face and he picked up his telephone.

“The fool did it. That will cure him of sucking eggs!” he muttered. “Operator? DuQuesne speaking. I am expecting a call this afternoon. Please ask him to call me at my house⁠ ⁠… Thank you.”

“Fred,” he called to his helper, “if anyone wants me, tell them that I have gone home.”

He left the building and stepped into his car. In less than half an hour he arrived at his house on Park Road, overlooking beautiful Rock Creek Park. Here he lived alone save for an old colored couple who were his servants.

In the busiest part of the afternoon Chambers rushed unannounced into Brookings’ private office. His face was white as chalk.

“Read that, Mr. Brookings!” he gasped, thrusting the Clarion extra into his hand.

Brookings read the news of the explosion, then looked at his chief chemist, his face turning gray.

“Yes, sir, that was our laboratory,” said Chambers, dully.

“The fool! Didn’t you tell him to work with small quantities?”

“I did. He said not to worry, that he was taking no chances, that he would never have more than a gram of copper on hand at once in the whole laboratory.”

“Well⁠ ⁠… I’ll⁠ ⁠… be⁠ ⁠… damned!” Slowly turning to the telephone, Brookings called a number and asked for Doctor DuQuesne, then called another.

“Brookings speaking. I would like to see you this afternoon. Will you be at home?⁠ ⁠… I’ll be there in about an hour. Goodbye.”

When Brookings arrived he was shown into DuQuesne’s study. The two men shook hands perfunctorily and sat down, the scientist waiting for the other to speak.

“Well, DuQuesne, you were right. Our man couldn’t handle it. But of course you didn’t mean the terms you mentioned before?”

DuQuesne’s lips smiled; a hard, cold smile.

“You know what I said, Brookings. Those terms are now doubled, twenty thousand and ten million. Nothing else goes.”

“I expected it, since you never back down. The Corporation expects to pay for its mistakes. We accept your terms and I have contracts here for your services as research director, at a salary of two hundred and forty thousand dollars per annum, with the bonus and royalties you demand.”

DuQuesne glanced over the