Griffith and Hoeck compared notes, and the Commander set the controls. Then he swung his chair around, leaving the ship on its automatic pilot. He faced the others, holding a spacegram in his hand.
“We’ve had a flash on Planet X,” he announced. “It’s not for general release yet, without more checking. But it may interest you to know that the Pluto observatory caught something that might have been a radio signal from Planet X. Pluto’s a long way off on her orbit, and no other planet got it. But now Outpost claims that they have spotted flashes of light. We’ll have to be prepared to face the possibility that there is intelligent life on X!”
Bob caught his breath. It couldn’t be human life— and men had never found any other forms of intelligent life on the planets. This might be the most important mission in all history…
“Bunk, I’d say,” Anderson was stating. “That planet’s frozen colder than Pluto—where it’s been it would get no heat at all from the sun.”
Hoeck shrugged. “Pirates!”
“Maybe,” Griffith admitted. “The pirate idea may be possible, though it’s a little farfetched.
But I have to agree with you, Anderson—no alien life could exist in that frozen a climate. Anyhow, we’re not being told there is life—just to be prepared for such an eventuality.” He faced Bob then.
“Cadet, tell the Chief Gunner I want to see him.”
Bob went out on legs that felt weak in the high pressure of acceleration. He knew his father could have called on the intercom, but it was standard tradition to keep a novice spaceman on the run as much as possible, until he completely hardened. He was glad of the chance to get away, before the excitement in his face could show that he hadn’t dismissed the idea of life on Planet X. After all, even if it were only a pirate base, it would still be something to experience!
Bob didn’t have much time to think about it, though. The ship drove on at a steady three gravities of acceleration, adding five million miles an hour to its speed every day. They were more than sixty million miles beyond Mars at the end of twenty-four hours, and nearly a quarter of a billion at the end of the second day. Jupiter’s orbit was getting close, though the big planet itself was on the other side of the sun.
Usually the ships took it somewhat more leisurely, but this was a special mission.
The first few hours of moving about under the pressure weren’t too bad. Actually, while his body now seemed to weigh over four hundred and fifty pounds, it wasn’t the same thing as trying to carry an additional three-hundred-pound load. Here, the increase in apparent weight was spread evenly over his whole body, and in complete balance. But it was still bad enough.
Then his legs began to scream with fatigue at each step. When he went down from the control room toward the tail, it was all right, but fighting back up was sheer torture. He gritted his teeth and bore it in silence. Finally, while his father ate his dinner, he sent Bob off to his bunk, to lie down; he fell into a sodden slumber without any dreams.
Getting up after his sleep was worse than anything else. The first few hours, while his legs seemed to be afire, nearly drove him to the unforgivable sin of asking for a break. Then numbness set in, and it was better. Somehow, he got through the second day, and he knew that the worst was past. It would be easier from now on, since his strength had already been developed, and he only needed to harden into the continuous grind.
He was asleep when they crossed the orbit of Jupiter and went beading out toward the orbit of Saturn, which would lie far off to the side.
They were five hundred million miles out from Mars when the heavy acceleration suddenly ceased, leaving only enough to give them a seeming weight equal to that on Earth. The change caught Bob in mid-stride, and he bounced up a bit before he could catch himself, wondering whether anything had happened to the rocket engines.
Then the tiny radio buzzed. “Take a break, men. We’ll loaf along like this for an hour. Get a bite to eat, if you like. We’re on automatic, so you can go off duty until next call. Bob, come on up, if you want to.”
Bob knew then that it was purely routine. Doctors had found that nervous tension built up under high acceleration, and it had to receive a rest after a certain time. During that period there would be no formality, as indicated by Griffith’s use of bis son’s name instead of his rank.
Hoeck was carving a tiny statue out of some hard wood, and Anderson was playing a mouth organ. But Bob’s father sat relaxed and ready to answer the questions about the ship which had come up during the trip. The ever-present tea of the Navy was already poured and waiting. Bob dropped down gratefully, feeling as light as a feather in spite of the twinges in his sore muscles. Right then, a whole hour of relaxation seemed like a lot.
But it was only half an hour later when something buzzed sharply on the control panel.
Anderson glanced sharply toward the light that would tell whether Sparks, the radioman, was on duty. Then he picked up a pair of phones, and began juggling meters.
Nearly every instrument on board had auxiliary controls here.
His fingers began hitting a tiny typewriter rapidly. Then he stopped in midstroke. “Cut off! Commander, look at this.” He began trying to signal, but obviously got no further message.
Bob crowded up to study the sheet on the typewriter, but his father summarized it quickly.
“SOS from the Ionian. She’s near by and being attacked by pirates!”
“Must have punctured the radio shack,” Anderson cut in sharply. “She’s gone silent now.”
“Any acknowledgments?” Griffith asked.
“None,” Anderson said. “We’re the nearest ship to her. It looks like it’s up to us to go to the rescue.”
CHAPTER 3
The Black Ship
CAN WE MATCH HER SPEED?” Griffith snapped out to Hoeck. The navigator jerked the sheet out of the typewriter and began studying the numbers that had been sent to indicate position and speed. His fingers jumped to a little calculator, and began work at interpreting them. Bob heard his father sounding a general alarm for the men to get back to duty on the double.
In front of the control room, a small hatch suddenly snapped open, and a six-inch rifle slid out rapidly, turret-mounted and fully compensated for recoil. He knew that all over the ship the various weapons would be made ready—cannon, guided-missile launchers, self-steering torpedoes, and a maze of others.
“Make it,” Hoeck decided, and threw another sheet to Griffith, who studied it, frowning heavily.
Anderson whistled as he saw the results, but went back to his seat at once, and began pulling out a suit of elastic cords and metal reinforcement. The others were doing the same, and the radio buzzed in Bob’s ear as general orders came over it for all men to get into high-acceleration harness.
His own harness was under his seat. He began slipping it on and binding it up as quickly as he could. It helped to ease the strain of high pressure by binding the body in a tight elastic sheath that prevented distortion and helped to maintain even blood circulation.
When it was on, he found a button on the seat, which
snapped it back to form a horizontal couch. Men could stand more strain when they lay completely horizontal to it.
“Ten seconds,” the radio said. Bob counted under his breath, but he was too fast. He’d reached thirteen before the pressure suddenly seemed to hit him with a leaden hand. His father had raised the acceleration to better than eight times the normal pressure of gravity, and cut on the side steering rockets, all together. Now they’d be turning and doubling in space in an attempt to reach the Ionian with the same speed and course she was following.
Bob had been given high-acceleration drills before, but never for as long a time. His brain seemed to go numb, except for a dull ache. His senses reeled and threatened to black out on him. His eyes would not focus, and he couldn’t see the others beside him. Nor could he hear them because of the roaring in his ears.
The little radio cut through his daze, carrying his father’s strained words. “Sparks, order the other ships to continue on course; they’re too slow for this. All men attention. We’re going into an encounter with pirates. The Lance has to take care of it alone. Ready all weapons, be prepared for unknown number of pirates.”
It seemed to take hours, though the high-acceleration flight probably lasted no more than half an hour. Even
