Russ waited for that attempt. There was nothing that could be done about it. The engines were developing every watt of power that could be urged out of them. If Craven had the power to break away, he would break away… that was all there would be to it.
An hour passed and the needle crept up a fraction of a point. Russ was still watching the dial, his mind foggy with concentration.
Suddenly the Invincible shuddered and seemed to totter in space, as if something, some mighty force, had struck the ship a terrific blow. The needle swung swiftly backward, reached one mile a second, dipped to half a mile.
Russ sat bolt upright, holding his breath, his teeth clenched with death grip upon the pipe-stem.
Craven had blasted with everything he had! He had used every last trickle of power in the accumulators… all the power he had been storing up.
Russ leaped from the chair and raced to the periscopic mirror. Stooping, he stared into it. Far beck in space, like a silver bauble, swung Craven's ship. It swung back and forth in space, like a mighty, cosmic pendulum. Breathlessly he watched. The ship was still in the grip of the space field!
'Greg,” he shouted, “we've got him!'
He raced back to the control panel, snapped a glance at the speed dial. The needle was rising rapidly now, a full mile a second. Within another fifteen minutes, it had climbed to a mile and a half. The Invincible was starting to go places!
The engines still howled, straining, shrieking, roaring their defiance.
In an hour the needle indicated the speed of four miles a second. Two hours later it was ten and rising visibly as Jupiter fell far behind and the Sun became little more than a glowing cinder.
Russ swung the controls to provide side acceleration and the two ships swung far to the rear of Neptune. They would pass that massive planet at the safe distance of a full hundred million miles.
'He won't even make a pass at it,” said Greg. “He knows he's licked.'
'Probably trying to store some more power,” suggested Russ.
'Sweet chance he has to do that,” declared Greg. “Look at that needle walk, will you? We'll hit the speed of light in a few more hours and after that he may just as well shut off his lens. There just won't be any radiation for him to catch.'
Craven didn't make a try at Neptune. The planet was far away when they intersected its orbit… furthermore, a wall of darkness had closed in about the ships. They were going three times as fast as light and the speed was still accelerating!
Hour after hour, day after day, the Invincible and its trailing captive sped doggedly outward into space. Out into the absolute wastes of interstellar space, where the stars were flecks of light, like tiny eyes watching from very far away.
Russ lounged in the control chair and stared out the vision plate. There was nothing to see, nothing to do. There hadn't been anything to see or do for days. The controls were locked at maximum and the engines still hammered their roaring song of speed and power. Before them stretched an empty gulf that probably never before had been traversed by any intelligence, certainly not by man.
Out into the mystery of interstellar space. Only it didn't seem mysterious. It was very commonplace and ordinary, almost monotonous. Russ gripped his pipe and chuckled.
There had been a day when men had maintained one couldn't go faster than light. Also, men had claimed that it would be impossible to force nature to give up the secret of material energy. But here they were, speeding along faster than light, their engines roaring with the power of material energy.
They were plowing a new space road, staking out a new path across the deserts of space, pioneering far beyond the ‘last frontier.'
Greg's steps sounded across the room. “We've gone a long way, Russ. Maybe we better begin to slow down a bit.'
'Yes,” agreed Russ. He leaned forward and grasped the controls. “We'll slow down now,” he said.
Sudden silence smote the ship. Their ears, accustomed for days to the throaty roarings of the engines, rang with the torture of no sound.
Long minutes and then new sounds began to be heard… the soft humming of the single engine that provided power for the interior apparatus and the maintenance of the outer screens.
'Soon as we slow down below the speed of light,” said Greg, “well throw the televisor on Craven's ship and learn what we can about his apparatus. No use trying it now, for we couldn't use it, because we're in the same space condition it uses in normal operation.'
'In fact,” laughed Russ, “we can't do much of anything except move. Energies simply can't pass through this space we're in. We're marooned.'
Greg sat down in a chair, gazed solemnly at Russ.
'Just what was our top speed?’ he demanded.
Russ grinned. “Ten thousand times the speed of light,” he said.
Greg whistled soundlessly. “A long way from home.'
Far away, the stars were tiny pinpoints, like little crystals shining by the reflection of a light. Pinpoints of light and shimmering masses of lacy silver… star dust that seemed ghostly and strange, but was, in reality, the massing of many million mighty stars. And great empty black spaces where there was not a single light, where the dark went on and on and did not stop.
Greg exhaled his breath softly. “Well, were here.'
'Wherever that might be,” amended Russ.
There were no familiar constellations, not a single familiar star. Every sign post of the space they had known was wiped out. “There really aren't any brilliant stars,” said Russ, “None at all. We must be in a sort of hole in space, a place that's relatively empty of any stars.'
Greg nodded soberly. “Good thing we have those mechanical shadows. Without them we'd never find our way back home. But we have several that will lead us back.'
Outside the vision panel, they could see Craven's ship. Freed now of the space field, it was floating slowly, still under the grip of the momentum they had built up in their dash across space. It was so close that they could see the lettering across its bow.
'So they call it the Interplanetarian,” said Russ.
Greg nodded. “Guess it's about time we talk to them. I'm afraid they're getting pretty nervous.'
'Do you have any idea where we are?” demanded Ludwig Stutsman.
Craven shook his head. “No more idea than you have. Manning snaked us across billions of miles, clear out of the Solar System into interstellar space. Take a look at those stars and you get some idea.'
Spencer Chambers stroked his gray mustache, asked calmly: “What do you figure our chances are of getting back?'
'That's something we'll know more about later,” said Craven. “Doesn't look too bright right now. I'm not worrying about that. What I'm wondering about is what Manning and Page are going to do now that they have us out here.'
'I thought you'd be,” said a voice that came out of clear air.
They stared at the place from which the voice had seemed to come. There was a slight refraction in the air; then, swiftly, a man took shape. It was Manning. He stood before them, smiling.
'Hello, Manning,” said Craven. “I figured you'd pay us a call when you got around to it.'
'Look here,” snarled Stutsman, but he stopped when Chambers’ hand fell upon his shoulder, gripped it hard.
'Got plenty of air?” asked Greg.
'Air? Sure. Atmosphere machines working perfectly,” Craven replied.
'Fine,” said Greg. “How about food and water? Plenty of both?'
'Plenty,” said Craven.
'Look here, Manning,” broke in Chambers, “where's all this questioning leading? What have you got up your
