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

protecting length there drove Adlington’s “Special” bomb. “Special” it was indeed; so great of girth that it could barely pass through the central orifice of Ten’s mighty projector, so heavily charged with sensitized atomic iron that its detonation upon any planet would not have been considered for an instant if that planet’s integrity meant anything to its attackers. Down the shielding pipe of force the “Special” screamed under full propulsion, and beneath the surface of Nevia’s ocean it plunged.

“Cut!” yelled Adlington, and as the scintillating drill expired the bomber pressed his detonating switch.

For moments the effect of the explosion seemed unimportant. A dull, low rumble was all that was to be heard of a concussion that jarred red Nevia to her very center; and all that could be seen was a slow heaving of the water. But that heaving did not cease. Slowly, so slowly it seemed to the observers now high in the heavens, the waters rose up and parted; revealing a vast chasm blown deep into the ocean’s rocky bed. Higher and higher the lazy mountains of water reared; effortlessly to pick up, to smash, to grind into fragments, and finally to toss aside every building, every structure, every scrap of material substance pertaining to the whole Nevian city.

Flattened out, driven backward for miles, the buffeted waters were pressed, leaving exposed bare ground and broken rock where once had been the ocean’s busy floor. Tremendous blasts of incandescent gas raved upward, jarring even the enormous mass of the super-ship poised so high above the site of the explosion. Then the displaced millions of tons of water rushed to make even more complete the already total destruction of the city. The raging torrents poured into that yawning cavern, filled it, and piled mountainously above it; receding and piling up, again and again; causing tidal waves which swept a full half of Nevia’s mighty, watery globe. That city was silenced⁠—forever.

“My⁠ ⁠… God!” Cleveland was the first to break the awed, the stunned, silence. He licked his lips. “But we had it to do⁠ ⁠… and at that, it’s not as bad as what they did to Pittsburgh⁠—they would have evacuated all except military personnel.”

“Of course⁠ ⁠… what next?” asked Rodebush. “Look around, I suppose, to see if they have any more.⁠ ⁠…”

“Oh, no, Conway⁠—no! Don’t let them!” Clio was sobbing openly. “I’m going to my room and crawl under the bed⁠—I’ll see that sight all the rest of my life!”

“Steady, Clio.” Costigan’s arm tightened around her. “We’ll have to look, but we won’t find any more. One⁠—if they could have finished it⁠—would have been enough.”

Again and again the Boise circled the world. No more super-powered installations were being built. And, surprisingly enough, the Nevians made no demonstration of hostility.

“I wonder why?” Rodebush mused. “Of course, we aren’t attacking them, either, but you’d think⁠ ⁠… do you suppose that they are waiting for Nerado?”

“Probably.” Costigan paused in thought. “We’d better wait for him, too. We can’t leave things this way.”

“But if we can’t force engagement⁠ ⁠… a stalemate.⁠ ⁠…” Cleveland’s voice was troubled.

“We’ll do something!” Costigan declared. “This thing has got to be settled, some way or other, before we leave here. First, try talking. I’ve got an idea that⁠ ⁠… anyway, it can’t do any harm, and I know that he can hear and understand you.”

Nerado arrived. Instead of attacking, his ship hung quietly poised, a mile or two away from the equally undemonstrative Boise. Rodebush directed a beam.

“Captain Nerado, I am Rodebush of Triplanetary. What do you wish to do about this situation?”

“I wish to talk to you.” The Nevian’s voice came clearly from the speaker. “You are, I now perceive, a much higher form of life than any of us had thought possible; a form perhaps as high in evolution as our own. It is a pity that we did not take the time for a full meeting of minds when we first neared your planet, so that much life, both Tellurian and Nevian, might have been spared. But what is past cannot be recalled. As reasoning beings, however, you will see the futility of continuing a combat in which neither is capable of winning victory over the other. You may, of course, destroy more of our Nevian cities, in which case I should be compelled to go and destroy similarly upon your Earth; but, to reasoning minds, such a course would be sheerest stupidity.”

Rodebush cut the communicator beam.

“Does he mean it?” he demanded of Costigan. “It sounds perfectly reasonable, but.⁠ ⁠…”

“But fishy!” Cleveland broke in. “Altogether too reasonable to be true!”

“He means it. He means every word of it,” Costigan assured his fellows. “I had an idea that he would take it that way. That’s the way they are. Reasonable; passionless. Funny⁠—they lack a lot of things that we have; but they’ve got stuff that I wish more of us Tellurians had, too. Give me the plate⁠—I’ll talk for Triplanetary,” and the beam was restored.

“Captain Nerado,” he greeted the Nevian commander. “Having been with you and among your people, I know that you mean what you say and that you speak for your race. Similarly, I believe that I can speak for the Triplanetary Council⁠—the governing body of three of the planets of our solar system⁠—in saying that there is no need for any more conflict between our peoples. I also was compelled by circumstances to do certain things which I now wish could be undone; but as you have said, the past is past. Our two races have much to gain from each other by friendly exchanges of materials and of ideas, while we can expect nothing except mutual extermination if we elect to continue this warfare. I offer you the friendship of Triplanetary. Will you release your screens and come aboard to sign a treaty?”

“My screens are down. I will come.” Rodebush likewise cut off his power, although somewhat apprehensively, and a Nevian lifeboat entered the main airlock of the Boise.

Then, at a table in the control room of Triplanetary’s first