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

the man out of their profoundest depths. But Costigan, into whose hard life love of woman had never before entered, had not yet recovered sufficiently from his soul-shaking plunge to follow her lead. Inarticulate, distrusting his newly found supreme happiness, he must needs stay out of those enchanted waters or plunge again. And he was afraid to plunge⁠—diffident, still deeming himself unworthy of the miracle of this wonder-girl’s love⁠—even though every fiber of his being shrieked its demand to feel again that slender body in his arms. He did not consciously think those thoughts. He acted them without thinking; they were prime basics in that which made Conway Costigan what he was.

“I do remember, and I still think it’s a sound idea, even though I am too far gone now to let you put it into effect,” he assured her, half seriously. He kissed her, tenderly and reverently, then studied her carefully. “But you look as though you’d been on a Martian picnic. When did you eat last?”

“I don’t remember, exactly. This morning, I think.”

“Or maybe last night, or yesterday morning? I thought so! Bradley and I can eat anything that’s chewable, and drink anything that will pour, but you can’t. I’ll scout around and see if I can’t fix up something that you’ll be able to eat.”

He rummaged through the storerooms, emerging with sundry viands from which he prepared a highly satisfactory meal.

“Think you can sleep now, sweetheart?” After supper, once more within the circle of Costigan’s arms, Clio nodded her head against his shoulder.

“Of course I can, dear. Now that you are with me, out here alone, I’m not a bit afraid any more. You will get us back to Earth some way, sometime; I just know that you will. Good night, Conway.”

“Good night, Clio⁠ ⁠… little sweetheart,” he whispered, and went back to Bradley’s side.

In due time the captain recovered consciousness, and slept. Then for days the speedster flashed on toward our distant solar system; days during which her wide-flung detector screens remained cold.

“I don’t know whether I’m afraid they’ll hit something or afraid that they won’t,” Costigan remarked more than once, but finally those tenuous sentinels did in fact encounter an interfering vibration. Along the detector line a visibeam sped, and Costigan’s face hardened as he saw the unmistakable outline of Nerado’s interstellar cruiser, far behind them.

“Well, a stern chase always was a long one,” Costigan said finally. “He can’t catch us for plenty of days yet⁠ ⁠… now what?” for the alarms of the detectors had broken out anew. There was still another point of interference to be investigated. Costigan traced it, and there, almost dead ahead of them, between them and their sun, nearing them at the incomprehensible rate of the sum of the two vessels’ velocities, came another cruiser of the Nevians!

“Must be the sister-ship, coming back from our System with a load of iron,” Costigan deduced. “Heavily loaded as she is, we may be able to dodge her; and she’s coming so fast that if we can stay out of her range we’ll be all right⁠—he won’t be able to stop for probably three or four days. But if our super-ship is anywhere in these parts, now’s the time for her to rally ’round!”

He gave the speedster all the side-thrust she would take; then, putting every available communicator tube behind a tight beam, he aimed it at Sol and began sending out a long-continued call to his fellows of the Triplanetary Service.

Nearer and nearer the Nevian flashed, trying with all her power to intercept the speedster; and it soon became evident that, heavily laden though she was, she could make enough sideway to bring her within range at the time of meeting.

“Of course, they’ve got partial neutralization of inertia, the same as we have,” Costigan cogitated, “and by the way he’s coming I’d say that he had orders to blow us out of the ether⁠—he knows as well as we do that he can’t capture us alive at anything like the relative velocities we’ve got now. I can’t give her any more side thrust without overloading the gravity controls, so overloaded they’ve got to be. Strap down, you two, because they may go out entirely!”

“Do you think that you can pull away from them, Conway?” Clio was staring in horrified fascination into the plate, watching the pictured vessel increase in size, moment by moment.

“I don’t know whether I can or not, but I’m going to try. Just in case we don’t, though, I’m going to keep on yelling for help. In solid? All right, boat, do your stuff!”

XIX Giants Meet

“Check your blast, Fred, I think that I hear something trying to come through!” Cleveland called out, sharply. For days the Boise had torn through the illimitable reaches of empty space, and now the long vigil of the keen-eared listeners was to be ended. Rodebush cut off his power, and through the crackling roar of tube noise an almost inaudible voice made itself heard.

“… all the help you can give us. Samms⁠—Cleveland⁠—Rodebush⁠—anybody of Triplanetary who can hear me, listen! This is Costigan, with Miss Marsden and Captain Bradley, heading for where we think the sun is, from right ascension about six hours, declination about plus fourteen degrees. Distance unknown, but probably a good many light-years. Trace my call. One Nevian ship is overhauling us slowly, another is coming toward us from the sun. We may or may not be able to dodge it, but we need all the help you can give us. Samms⁠—Rodebush⁠—Cleveland⁠—anybody of Triplanetary.⁠ ⁠…”

Endlessly the faint, faint voice went on, but Rodebush and Cleveland were no longer listening. Sensitive ultra-loops had been swung, and along the indicated line shot Triplanetary’s super-ship at a velocity which she had never before even approached; the utterly incomprehensible, almost incalculable velocity attained by inertialess matter driven through an almost perfect vacuum by the Boise’s maximum projector blasts⁠—a blast which would lift her stupendous normal tonnage against a gravity five times that of