chair possible was a mechanical marvel, as was placing of the controls so that they could slide back with the hands.
“How about a demonstration?” Jakes wanted to know. He brushed aside the protests that Bob started, and switched on the radio to the field control. “Jakes in the Icarius,” he announced. “I’m going on a test run.”
The monitor’s voice was polite but firm. “Sorry, Mr. Jakes. Outpost Field is quarantined—full security blanket. You are not to leave the field without the permission of Commander Jergens and Commander Griffith! Repeat. Don’t leave the field! Violations will be punished as acts of treason!”
Jakes sputtered, but the radio went dead. He shook his head and finally gave up, trailing the other two as they moved off the field. Bob knew that it meant his father had convinced Outpost Commander Jergens of the origin and meaning of the black ship. By now the ether must be burning with a carefully coded account going back to Mars and to Earth. Naturally, though, it would be kept from the public as long as possible, and no one would be permitted to leave Outpost, where the secret might leak out.
“Come on, Si,” Bob volunteered. “Might as well go back to my place and I’ll treat you to dinner. Dad won’t be home until late, I suppose.”
In that he was wrong. His father was sitting in the little living room, with another man, whom Bob recognized as Commander Jergens. The man looked older, thinner, and more uncertain than ever. His sandy hair and mustache went with a drooping expression that made him look like something out of one of the old British comedies—the absent-minded, doddering Lord Somesuch-or-Other.
Commander Griffith spotted Bob and Juan first, and waved them in. “Here are the boys. We can go ahead, though—they know as much as I do, and they can keep their mouths shut.”
Then he saw Jakes, and frowned slightly.
But Jergens motioned Jakes in quickly. “Simon Jakes—son of my old friend Roger Jakes.
Brilliant mind. Made a big contribution, you know, the seat they’re installing on the Fleet at Mars. Went to the Academy, before he took up inventing. Very high recommendations from Earth.”
Commander Griffith stuck out his hand. “Hello, Simon. Quite a trip you made; it beats the record. We’ve met before, you see, Commander.”
“Oh!” Jergens seemed somewhat disappointed, but he rallied quickly. “Well, small universe, as I always say. But you know, you can’t very well exclude him now—not if your boy and this other know. Not after all Mr. Jakes has done for the Navy.”
Griffith’s mouth twitched faintly, but he nodded. “If I know boys, he already has enough information to find out the rest; as soon as a boy finds there’s a secret, he has to ferret it out.
Okay, Bob, fill in the details for Simon. You might do it over the dinner I had sent up— out in the dining room.”
He turned to Jakes then, estimating the other carefully. “I’ll be honest with you, son. You’re something of a fool, and you’ve got a hero bug you’d be better off without; I know your Academy record. But I think you’re also able to keep your word, and as honest as most of us. What Bob will tell you is the top military secret of the system. I want your word you won’t discuss it with anyone except those present, and then only in private. Not even to your best friends and business acquaintances. Do I have that word?”
“Yes, sir. You have it.” Simon had straightened to as good a parade-dress stand as the Academy had been able to drill into him. He met the older man’s eye, and then smiled.
“Thank you, sir. And—and thanks for putting it that way, sir.”
Bob tried to listen to what the two Commanders were saying while he filled the amazed Jakes with the facts. But he needn’t have tried. The conversation was still going strong when they went back to the living room.
“We’ve decided to make you and Juan ensigns for the duration of the emergency,” Bob’s father told Jakes. “That puts you under Navy officer regulations. You’ll both be quartered here with me.” Jergens frowned faintly at that, but let it go. “And you’re both on indefinite leave, at once. That is, if you’ll accept the oath?”
Jakes nodded quickly, and Juan gave his own quiet assent, with the touch of a smile around his lips. He seemed somewhat amused at the idea, though Bob couldn’t see why. Maybe those from a merchant planet like Io thought all the rules and regulations of the Navy ridiculous, as many other civilians did. Griffith administered the oath quickly, and made out two handwritten slips of paper.
“Bob,” he said then, “you’re automatically Navy, but we’re raising you to the rank of ensign at once, without leave. All right, boys, relax. It’s probably better having you listen in than trying to find any privacy in that madhouse Jergens calls headquarters; we tried that this afternoon. Now, where was I?”
“You said the piracy…” Jergens began.
Griffith nodded. “Thanks. No, I don’t think all that piracy we’ve had comes from Planet X. I think not more than three of the attacks show any signs of it. That one a month ago near here, that freighter the miners saw towed off just afterward, and this job with the Ionian. The rest are just a bunch of the usual crooks capitalizing on a sensational crime; we always get that. And the more reports there are, the more fools will try piracy instead of honest shipping.
I don’t think any culture having the power of Planet X would bother with regular piracy.”
“Might be war, you know. Undeclared. Maybe don’t know a warship from a freighter. Just downright nasty, maybe,” Jergens suggested.
“Nonsense. Any race that has advanced that far has advanced enough to know that nastiness and war aren’t worth the trouble. Look at us; we fought some bitter wars while we were getting started with our technical development. But the further we went, the harder it was to start a war. Oh, once it started, it was a huge one. But after we had power enough from the atom, and room enough on the planets, war began to die a natural death. We almost had one a hundred years ago—but two hundred years back we would have had one. Now people get around too much to hate other people, and there are too many good things which war would destroy. So we don’t have wars.”
“Another culture might,” Jergens objected. “Anyhow, they jumped the Ionian. I say we have to attack now.”
Bob’s father filled his pipe, mulling over his ideas. “I don’t believe they really did attack, Commander. From what I saw and what Juan said, they just hung in space ahead of the Ionian and tried to keep her from communicating—harmlessly. It wasn’t until Roman sent the torpedoes against them that they hit back. And the same with me; they had the stuff to take me, I’d guess. But all they did was bat me around a trifle and vanish. I think we should try to make peace, if possible, before going in blindly. Send a single official scout out, if you like, but try to come to terms with them.”
Talk went on, far into the night, without much result. At first Bob had been surprised by his father’s stand, but on looking back he saw that the black ship apparently hadn’t done any attacking. He grew more convinced as his father developed his case, and he noticed that Juan was silently nodding agreement.
Jergens didn’t really argue. His one stand was that they couldn’t tip off the enemy that he was known; they had to wipe him out at once, before he knew his secret was discovered.
Otherwise—and this seemed his real worry—Outpost might be wiped out at any time; and, of course, the other planets later.
“I’m not trying to deny your ideas,” Griffith pointed out finally. “I just don’t think we can decide here. This is too big. All I want is a chance to use your encoder and transmitter and get in touch with some of the men at Fleet Headquarters.”
Jergens looked distressed, and pulled at Ms drooping mustache. “Wish I could, Griffith. But you know the encoder’s assigned for administrative use. Operations Fleet uses a different type code. Against the rules to let you have this one. Tell you what, though.” He brightened suddenly. “Write it up, list the men you want it to reach, and I’ll try to send it out first thing.
Cuts the Gordian knot, eh? Always a way, I always say, without breaking rules.”
Bob’s father seemed dissatisfied, but he agreed. Then the meeting broke up. “Do your best,” were Griffith’s last words as he headed toward his typewriter.
“Think he will?” Bob asked, when the man was gone.
His father shook his head. “Maybe. Jergens is scared for Outpost, though, and all wrapped up in red tape. But I can’t stand by while we get mixed up in a war we may very well lose without appealing to the men who have some sense. I still say that ship could have wiped out the Lance without half-trying—and it didn’t. That’s the one hope I can see in this mess.”
