Triplanetary - E. E. Smith (phonics reader TXT) 📗

epub:type="z3998:given-name">K. Kinnison died without realizing that anything whatever was happening to his ship or to him.

Gharlane of Eddore looked upon ruined Earth, his handiwork, and found it good. Knowing that it would be many of hundreds of Tellurian years before that planet would again require his personal attention, he went elsewhere; to Rigel Four, to Palain Seven, and to the solar system of Velantia, where he found that his creatures the Overlords were not progressing according to schedule. He spent quite a little time there, then searched minutely and fruitlessly for evidence of inimical activity within the Innermost Circle.

And upon far Arisia a momentous decision was made: the time had come to curb sharply the hitherto unhampered Eddorians.

“We are ready, then, to war openly upon them?” Eukonidor asked, somewhat doubtfully. “Again to cleanse the planet Tellus of dangerous radioactives and of too-noxious forms of life is of course a simple matter. From our protected areas in North America a strong but democratic government can spread to cover the world. That government can be extended easily enough to include Mars and Venus. But Gharlane, who is to operate as Roger, who has already planted, in the Adepts of North Polar Jupiter, the seeds of the Jovian Wars.⁠ ⁠…”

“Your visualization is sound, youth. Think on.”

“Those interplanetary wars are of course inevitable, and will serve to strengthen and to unify the government of the Inner Planets⁠ ⁠… provided that Gharlane does not interfere.⁠ ⁠… Oh, I see. Gharlane will not at first know; since a zone of compulsion will be held upon him. When he or some Eddorian fusion perceives that compulsion and breaks it⁠—at some such time of high stress as the Nevian incident⁠—it will be too late. Our fusions will be operating. Roger will be allowed to perform only such acts as will be for Civilization’s eventual good. Nevia was selected as Prime Operator because of its location in a small region of the galaxy which is almost devoid of solid iron and because of its watery nature; its aquatic forms of life being precisely those in which the Eddorians are least interested. They will be given partial neutralization of inertia; they will be able to attain velocities a few times greater than that of light. That covers the situation, I think?”

“Very good, Eukonidor,” the Elders approved. “A concise and accurate summation.”

Hundreds of Tellurian years passed. The aftermath. Reconstruction. Advancement. One world⁠—two worlds⁠—three worlds⁠—united, harmonious, friendly. The Jovian Wars. A solid, unshakeable union.

Nor did any Eddorian know that such fantastically rapid progress was being made. Indeed, Gharlane knew, as he drove his immense ship of space toward Sol, that he would find Tellus inhabited by peoples little above savagery.

And it should be noted in passing that not once, throughout all those centuries, did a man named Kinnison marry a girl with red-bronze-auburn hair and gold-flecked, tawny eyes.

Book III Triplanetary VII Pirates of Space

Apparently motionless to her passengers and crew, the Interplanetary liner Hyperion bored serenely onward through space at normal acceleration. In the railed-off sanctum in one corner of the control room a bell tinkled, a smothered whirr was heard, and Captain Bradley frowned as he studied the brief message upon the tape of the recorder⁠—a message flashed to his desk from the operator’s panel. He beckoned, and the second officer, whose watch it now was, read aloud:

“Reports of scout patrols still negative.”

“Still negative.” The officer scowled in thought. “They’ve already searched beyond the widest possible location of wreckage, too. Two unexplained disappearances inside a month⁠—first the Dione, then the Rhea⁠—and not a plate nor a lifeboat recovered. Looks bad, sir. One might be an accident; two might possibly be a coincidence.⁠ ⁠…” His voice died away.

“But at three it would get to be a habit,” the captain finished the thought. “And whatever happened, happened quick. Neither of them had time to say a word⁠—their location recorders simply went dead. But of course they didn’t have our detector screens nor our armament. According to the observatories we’re in clear ether, but I wouldn’t trust them from Tellus to Luna. You have given the new orders, of course?”

“Yes, sir. Detectors full out, all three courses of defensive screen on the trips, projectors manned, suits on the hooks. Every object detected to be investigated immediately⁠—if vessels, they are to be warned to stay beyond extreme range. Anything entering the fourth zone is to be rayed.”

“Right⁠—we are going through!”

“But no known type of vessel could have made away with them without detection,” the second officer argued. “I wonder if there isn’t something in those wild rumors we’ve been hearing lately?”

“Bah! Of course not!” snorted the captain. “Pirates in ships faster than light⁠—sub-ethereal rays⁠—nullification of gravity mass without inertia⁠—ridiculous! Proved impossible, over and over again. No, sir, if pirates are operating in space⁠—and it looks very much like it⁠—they won’t get far against a good big battery full of kilowatt-hours behind three courses of heavy screen, and good gunners behind multiplex projectors. They’re good enough for anybody. Pirates, Neptunians, angels, or devils⁠—in ships or on broomsticks⁠—if they tackle the Hyperion we’ll burn them out of the ether!”

Leaving the captain’s desk, the watch officer resumed his tour of duty. The six great lookout plates into which the alert observers peered were blank, their far-flung ultra-sensitive detector screens encountering no obstacle⁠—the ether was empty for thousands upon thousands of kilometers. The signal lamps upon the pilot’s panel were dark, its warning bells were silent. A brilliant point of white light in the center of the pilot’s closely ruled micrometer grating, exactly upon the cross-hairs of his directors, showed that the immense vessel was precisely upon the calculated course, as laid down by the automatic integrating course plotters. Everything was quiet and in order.

“All’s well, sir,” he reported briefly to Captain Bradley⁠—but all was not well.

Danger⁠—more serious by far in that it was not external⁠—was even then, all unsuspected, gnawing at the great ship’s vitals. In a locked and