Lensman 03 – Galactic patrol – E.E. Doc Smith

Communication was established and the pirate captain began to make his

report, and by using one hand on the ray and the other on the tracer, he managed to

get a partial line and to record scraps of the conversation. He missed, however, the

essential part of the entire episode, that part in which the base commander turned the

unsuccessful captain over to Helmuth himself. Therefore Kinnison was surprised indeed

at the disappearance of the beam he was so laboriously trying to trace, and to hear

Helmuth conclude his castigation of the unlucky captain with. .

. . . . . not entirely your fault, I will not punish you at all severely this time. Report

to our base on Aldebaran I, turn your vessel over to commander there, and do anything

he tells you to for .thirty of the days of that planet.”

Frantically Kinnison drew back his tracer and searched for Helmuth’s beam, but

before he could synchronize with it the message of the pirates’ high chief was finished

and his beam was gone. The Lensman sat back in thought.

Aldebaran I Practically next door to his own Solarian System, from which he had

come so far. How had they possibly managed to keep concealed, or to re-establish, a

base so close to Sol, through all the intensive searching that had been done? But they

had-that was the important thing. Anyway, he knew where he was going, and that

helped. One other thing he hadn’t thought of, and one that might have spoiled

everything, was the fact that he couldn’t stay awake indefinitely to follow that ship! He

had to sleep sometime, and while he was asleep his quarry was bound to escape. He of

course had a CRX tracer, which would hold a ship without attention as long as it was

anywhere within even extreme range, and it would have been a simple enough matter

to have had a photo-cell relay put in between the plate of the CRX and the automatic

controls of the spacer and driver-but he had not asked for it. Well, luckily, he now knew

where he was going, and the trip to Aldebaran would. be long enough for him to build a

dozen such controls. He had all the necessary parts and plenty of tools.

Therefore, following the pirate ship easily as it tore through space, Kinnison built

his automatic “chaser,” as he called it. During each of the first four or five “nights” he

lost the vessel he was pursuing, but found it without any great difficulty upon

awakening. Thereafter he held it continuously, improving day by day the performance of

his apparatus until it could do almost anything except talk. After that he devoted his

time to an intensive study of the general problem before him. His results were highly

unsatisfactory, for in order to solve any problem one must have enough data to set it

up, either in actual equations or in logical sequences, and Kinnison did not have

enough data.

He had altogether too many unknowns and not enough knowns.

The first specific problem was that of getting into the pirate base. Since the

searchers of the Patrol had not found it, that base must be very well hidden indeed. And

hiding anything as large as a base on Aldebaran I, as he remembered it, would be quite

a feat in itself. He had been in that system only once, but . . . . .

Alone in his ship, and in deep space although he was, he blushed painfully as he

remembered what had happened to him during that visit. He had chased a couple of

dope runners to Aldebaran II, and there he had encountered the most vividly, the most

flawlessly, the most remarkably and intriguingly beautiful girl. he had ever seen. He had

seen beautiful women, of course, before and in plenty. He had seen beauties amateur

and professional, social butterflies, dancers, actresses, models, and posturers, both in

the flesh and in Telenewscasts, but he bad never supposed that such an utterly

ravishing creature as she was could exist outside of a thionite dream. As a timidly

innocent damsel in distress she had been perfect, and if she had held that pose a little

longer Kinnison shuddered to think of what might have happened.

But, having known too many dope-runners and too few Patrolmen, she

misjudged entirely, not only the cadet’s sentiments, but also his reactions. For, even as

she came amorously into his arms, he had known that there was something screwy.

Women like that did not play that kind of game for nothing. She must be mixed up with

the two he had been chasing. He got away from her, with only a couple of scratches,

just in time to capture her confederates as they were making their escape-and he had

been afraid of beautiful women ever since. He’d like to see that Aldebaranian hell-cat

again-just once. He’d been just a kid then, but now . . . . .

But that line of thought was getting him nowhere, fast. It was Aldebaran I that he

had better be thinking of. Barren, lifeless, desolate, airless, waterless. Bare as his hand,

covered with extinct volcanoes, cratered, jagged, and torn. To hide a base on that

planet would take plenty of doing, and, conversely, it would be correspondingly difficult

to approach. If on the surface at all, which he doubted very strongly, it would be

covered. In any event, all its approaches would be thoroughly screened and equipped

with lookouts on the ultra-violet and on the infra-red, as well as on the visible. His

detector nullifier wouldn’t help him much there. Those screens and lookouts were bad-

very, very bad. Question-could anything get into that base without setting off an alarm?

His speedster could not even get close, that was certain. Could he, alone? He

would have to wear armor, of course, to hold his air, and it would radiate. Not

necessarily-he could land out of range and walk, without power, but there were still the

screens and the lookouts. If the pirates were on their toes it simply wasn’t in the cards,

and he had to assume that they would be alert.

What, then, could pass those barriers? Prolonged consideration of every fact of

the situation gave definite answer and marked out clearly the course he must take.

Something admitted by the. pirates themselves was the only thing that could get in. The

vessel ahead of his was going in. Therefore he must and would enter that base within

the pirate vessel itself. With that point derided there remained only the working out of a

method, which proved to be almost ridiculously simple.

Once inside the base, what should he-or rather, what could he-do? For days he

made and discarded plans, but finally he tossed them all out of his mind. So much

depended upon the location of the base, its personnel, its arrangement, and its routine,

that he could develop not even the rough draft of a working plan. He knew what he

wanted to do, but he had not even the remotest idea as to how he could go about doing

it. Of the openings that appeared, he would have to choose the most feasible and fit his

actions to whatever situation then and there obtained.

So deciding, he shot his spy-ray toward the planet and studied it with care. It was

indeed as he had remembered it, or worse. Bleakly, hotly arid, it had no soil whatever,

its entire surface being composed of igneous rock, lava, and pumice. Stupendous

ranges of mountains cries-crossed and intersected each other at random, each range a

succession of dead volcanic peaks and blown-off craters. Mountainside and rocky plain,

crater-wall and valley floor, alike and innumerably were pockmarked with sub-craters

and with immensely yawning shell-holes, as though the whole planet had been

throughout geologic ages the target of an incessant cosmic bombardment.

Over its surface and through and through its volume he drove his spy-ray, finding

nothing. He bored into its substance with his detectors and his tracers, with results

completely negative. Of course, closer up, his electromagnetics would report iron-plenty

of it – but that information would also be meaningless. Practically all planets had iron

cores. As far as his instruments could tell-and he had given Aldebaran I a more

thorough going-over by far than any ordinary surveying ship would have given it-there

was no base of any kind upon or within the planet. Yet he knew that a base was there.

So what? -maybe-Helmuth’s base might be inside the galaxy after all, protected from

detection in the same way, probably by solid miles of iron or of iron ore. A second line

upon that base had now become imperative. But they were approaching the system

fast, he had better get ready.

He belted on his personal equipment, including a nullifier, then inspected his

armor, checking its supplies and apparatus carefully before he hooked it ready to his

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