Gigantic pressors shoved against it: beams of power sufficient to deflect a satellite; beams whose projectors were braced, in steel-laced concrete down to bedrock, against any conceivable thrust. But this was negative, not positive matter —matter negative in every respect of mass, inertia, and force. To it a push was a pull. Pressors to it were tractors —at contact they pulled themselves up off their massive foundations and hurtled into the appalling blackness.
Then the negasphere struck. Or did it? Can nothing strike anything? It would be better, perhaps, to say that the spherical hyper-plane which was the three-dimensional cross-section of the negasphere began to occupy the same volume of space as that in which Jalte’s unfortunate world already was. And at the surface of contact of the two the materials of both disappeared.
The substance of the planet vanished, the incomprehensible nothingness of the negasphere faded away into the ordinary vacuity of empty space.
Jalte’s base, the whole three hundred square miles of it, was taken at the first gulp. A vast pit opened where it had been, a hole which deepened and widened with horrifying rapidity. And as the yawning abyss enlarged itself the stuff of the planet fell into it, in turn to vanish.
Mountains tumbled into it, oceans dumped themselves into it. The hot, frightfully compressed and nascent material of the planet’s core sought to erupt—but instead of moving, it, too, vanished. Vast areas of the world’s surface crust, tens of thousands of square miles in extent, collapsed into it, splitting off along crevasses of appalling depth, and became nothing. The stricken globe shuddered, trembled, ground itself to bits in paroxysm after ghastly paroxysm of disintegration.
What was happening? Eichmil did not know, since his “eye” was destroyed before any really significant developments could eventuate. He and his scientists could only speculate and deduce—which, with surprising accuracy, they did. The officers of the Patrol ships, however, knew what was going on, and they were scanning with tensely narrowed eyes the instruments which were recording instant by instant the performance of the new cosmic super-screens which were being assaulted so brutally.
For, as has been said, the negasphere was composed of negative matter. Instead of electrons its building-blocks were positrons—the “Dirac holes” in an infinity of negative energy.
Whenever the field of a positron encountered that of an electron the two neutralized each other, giving rise to two quanta of hard radiation. And, since those encounters were occurring at the rate of countless trillions per second, there was tearing at the Patrol’s defenses a flood of cosmics of an intensity which no space-ship had ever before been called upon to withstand. But the new screens had been figured with a factor of safety of five, and they stood up.
The planet dwindled with soul-shaking rapidity to a moon, to a moonlet, and finally to a discretely conglomerate aggregation of meteorites before the mutual neutralization ceased.
“Primaries now,” Haynes ordered briskly, as the needles of the cosmic-ray-screen meters dropped back to the green lines of normal functioning. The probability was that the defenses of the Boskonian citadels would now be automatic only, that no life had endured through that awful flood of lethal radiation; but he was taking no chances. Out flashed the penetrant super-rays and the fortresses, too, ceased to exist save as the impalpable infra-dust of space.
And the massed Grand Fleet of the Galactic Patrol, remaking its formation, hurtled outward through the inter-galactic void.
CHAPTER 24 – PASSING OF THE EICH
They are not fools, I am not so sure . . .” Eichmil had said; and when the last force-ball, his last means of inter-galactic communication, went dead the First of Boskone became very unsure indeed. The Patrol undoubtedly had something new—he himself had had glimpses of it—but what was it?”
That Jalte’s base was gone was obvious. That Boskone’s hold upon the Tellurian Galaxy was gone followed as a corollary. That the Patrol was or soon would be wiping out Boskone’s regional and planetary units was a logical inference. Star A Star, that accursed Director of Lensmen, had—must have—succeeded in stealing Jalte’s records, to be willing to destroy out of hand the base which housed them.
Nor could Boskone do anything to help the underlings, now that the long-awaited attack upon Jarnevon itself was almost certainly coming. Let the Patrol come—they were ready. Or were they, quite? Jalte’s defenses were strong, but they had not withstood that unknown weapon even for seconds.
Eichmil called a joint meeting of Boskone and the Academy of Science. Coldly and precisely he told them everything that he had seen. Discussion followed.
“Negative matter beyond a doubt,” a scientist summed up. “It has long been surmised that in some other, perhaps hyper-spatial, universe there must exist negative matter of mass sufficient to balance the positive material of the universe we know. It is conceivable that by hyper-spatial explorations and manipulations the Tellurians have discovered that other universe and have transported some of its substance into ours.”
“Can they manufacture it?” Eichmil demanded.
“The probability that such material can be manufactured is exceedingly small,” was the studied reply. “An entirely new mathematics would be necessary. In all probability they found it already existent.”
“We must find it also, then, and at once.”
“We will try. Bear in mind, however, that the field is large, and do not be optimistic of an early success. Note also that that substance is not necessary—perhaps not even desirable—in a defensive action.”
“Why not?”
“Because, by directing pressors against such a bomb, Jalte actually pulled it into his base, precisely where the enemy wished it to go. As a surprise attack, against those ignorant of its true nature, such a weapon would be effective indeed; but against us it will prove a boomerang. All that is needful is to mount tractor heads upon pressor bases, and thus drive the bombs back upon those who send them.” It did not occur, even -to the coldest scientist of them all, that that bomb had been of planetary mass. Not one of the Eich suspected that all that remained of the entire world upon which Jalte’s base had stood was a handful of meteorites.
“Let them come, then,” said Eichmil, grimly. “Their dependence upon a new and supposedly unknown weapon explains what would otherwise be insane tactics. With that weapon impotent they cannot possibly win a long war waged so far from their bases. We can match them ship for ship, and more; and our supplies and munitions are close at hand. We will wear them down—blast them out—the Tellurian Galaxy shall yet be Ours!”
* * * Admiral Haynes spent almost every waking hour setting up and knocking down tactical problems in the practice tank, and gradually his expression changed from one of strained anxiety to one of pleased satisfaction. He went over to his sealed-band transmitter, called all communications officers to attention, and thought: “Each vessel will direct its longest-range detector, at highest possible power, centrally upon the objective galaxy. The first observer to find detectable activity, however faint, will report it instantly to GHQ. We will send out a general C.B., at which every vessel in Grand Fleet will cease blasting at once; remaining motionless in space until further orders.” He then called Kinnison.
“Look here,” he directed the attention of the younger man into the reducer, which now represented inter-galactic space, with a portion of the Second Galaxy filling one edge. “I have a solution, but its practicability depends upon whether or not it calls for the impossible from you, Worsel, and your Rigellians. You remarked at the start that I knew my tactics. I wish I knew more—or at least could be certain that Boskone and I agree on what constitutes good tactics. I feel quite safe in assuming, however, that we shall meet their Grand Fleet well outside the galaxy . . .”
“Why?” asked the startled Kinnison. “If I were Eichmil I’d pull every ship I had in around Jarnevon and keep it there! They can’t force engagement with us!”
“Poor tactics. The very presence of their fleet out in space will force engagement, and a decisive one at that. From his viewpoint, if he defeats us there, that ends it If he loses, that’s only his first line of defense. His observers will have reported fully. He will have invaluable data to work upon, and much time before even his outlying fortresses can be threatened.
“From our viewpoint, we cant refuse battle if his fleet is there. It would be suicidal for us to enter that galaxy, leaving intact outside it a fleet as powerful as that one is bound to be.”
“Why? Harrying us from the rear might be bothersome, but I don’t see how it could be disastrous.”
“Not that They could, and would, attack Tellus.”
“Oh—I never thought of that But couldn’t they anyway —two fleets?”
“No. He knows that Tellus is very strongly held, and that this is no ordinary fleet He will have to concentrate everything he has upon either one or the other—it is almost inconceivable that he would divide his forces.”