hand. Glancing into the plate, he noted with approval that his “chaser” was functioning
perfectly. Pursued and pursuer were now both well inside the solar system of
Aldebaran, and, as slowed the pirate so slowed the speedster. Finally the leader went
inert in preparation for his spiral, but Kinnison was no longer following. Before .he went
inert he flashed down to within fifty thousand miles of the planet’s forbidding surface.
He then cut his Bergenholm, threw the speedster into an almost circular orbit, well away
from the landing orbit selected by the pirate, cut off all his power, and drifted. He stayed
in the speedster, observing and computing, until he had so exactly defined its path that
he could find it unerringly at any future instant. Then he went into the airlock, stepped
out into space, and, waiting only to be sure that the portal had snapped shut behind
him, set his course toward the pirate’s spiral.
Inert now, his progress was so slow as to seem imperceptible, but he had plenty
of time. And it was only relatively that his speed was low. He was actually hurtling
through space at the rate of well over two thousand miles an hour, and his powerful little
driver was increasing that speed constantly by an acceleration of two Earth gravities.
Soon the vessel crept up, beneath him now, and Kinnison increasing his drive to
five gravities, shot toward it in a long, slanting dive. This was the most ticklish minute of
the trip, but the Lensman had assumed correctly that the ship’s officers would be
looking ahead of them and down, not backward and up. They were, and he made his
approach unseen. The approach itself, the boarding of an inert spaceship at its frightful
landing-spiral velocity, was elementary to any competent space-man. There was not
even a flare to bother him or to reveal him to sight, as the braking jets were now doing
all the work. Matching course and velocity ever more closely, he crept up-flung his
magnet-pulled up, hand over hand-opened the emergency inlet lock – and there he
was.
Unconcernedly he made his way along the sternway and into the now deserted
quarters of the fighters. There he lay down in a hammock, snapped the acceleration
straps, and shot his spy-ray into the control room. And there, in the pirate captain’s own
visiplate, he observed the rugged and torn topography of the terrain below as the pilot
fought his ship down, mile by mile. Tough going, this, Kinnison reflected, and the bird
was doing a nice job, even if he was taking it the hard way, bringing her down straight
on her nose instead of taking one more spiral around the planet and then sliding in on
her under jets, which were designed and placed specifically for such work. But taking it
the hard way he was, and his vessel was bucking, kicking, bouncing and spinning on
the terrific blasts of her braking jets. Down she came, fast, and it was only after she was
actually inside one of those stupendous craters, well below the level of its rim, that the
pilot flattened her out and assumed normal landing position.
They were still going too fast, Kinnison thought, but the pirate pilot knew what he
was doing. Five miles the vessel dropped, straight down that Titanic shaft, before the
bottom was reached. The shaft’s wall was studded with windows, in front of the craft
loomed the outer gate of a gigantic airlock. It opened, the ship was trundled inside,
landing-cradle and all, and the massive gate closed behind it. This was the pirates’
base, and Kinnison was inside it!
“Men, attention!” The pirate commander snapped then. “The air is deadly poison,
so put on your armor and be sure your tanks are full. They have rooms for us, having
good air, but don’t open your suits a crack until I tell you to. Assemble! All of you that
are not here in this Control room in five minutes will stay on board and take your own
chances !”
Kinnison decided instantly to assemble with the crew. He could do nothing in the
ship, and it would be inspected, of course. He had plenty of air, but space-armor all
looked alike, and his Lens would warn him in time of any unfriendly or suspicious
thought. He had better go. If they called a roll . . . . but he would cross that bridge when
he came to it.
No roll was called, in fact, the captain paid no attention at all to his men. They
would come along or not, just as they pleased. But since to stay in the ship meant
death, every man was prompt. At the expiration of the five minutes the captain strode
away, followed by the crowd. Through a doorway, left turn, and the captain was met by
a creature whose shape Kinnison could not make out. A pause, a straggling forward,
then a right turn.
Kinnison decided that he would not take that turn. He would stay here, close to
the shaft, where he could blast his way out if’ necessary, until he had studied the whole
base thoroughly enough to map out a plan of campaign. He soon found an empty and
apparently unused room, and assured himself that through its heavy, crystal-clear
window he could indeed look out into the vastly cylindrical emptiness of a volcanic
shaft.
Then with his spy-ray he watched the pirates as they were escorted to the
quarters prepared for them. Those might have been rooms of state, but it looked to
Kinnison very much as though his former shipmates were being jailed ignominiously,
and he was glad that he had taken leave of them. Shooting his ray here and there
throughout the structure, he finally found what he was looking for, the communicator
room. That room was fairly well lighted, and at what he saw there his jaw dropped in
sheerest amazement.
He had expected to see men, since Aldebaran II, the only inhabited planet in the
system, had been colonized from Tellus and its people were as truly human and
Caucasian as those of Chicago or of Paris. But there . . . these things . . . he had been
around quite a bit, but he had never seen nor heard of their like. They were wheels,
really. When they went anywhere they rolled. Heads where hubs ought to be . . . . eyes
. . . . arms, dozens of them, and very capable-looking hands . . . . .
“Vogenar!” a crisp thought flashed from one of the peculiar entities to another,
impinging also upon Kinnison ‘s Lens. “Someone-some outsider-is looking at me.
Relieve me while I abate this intolerable nuisance.”
“One of those creatures from Tellus? We will teach them very shortly that such
intrusion is not to be borne.”
“No, it is not one of them. The touch is similar, but the tone is entirely different.
Nor could it be one of them, for not one of them is equipped with the instrument which
is such a clumsy substitute for inherent power of mind. There, I will now . . . . ”
Kinnison snapped on his thought-screen, but the damage had already been
done. In the violated Communications Room the angry observer went on.
” . . . . attune myself and trace the origin of that prying look. It has disappeared
now, but its sender cannot be distant, since our walls are shielded and screened . . . .
Ah, there is a blank space, which I cannot penetrate, in the seventh room of the fourth
corridor. In all probability it is one of our guests, hiding now behind a thought screen.’
Then his orders boomed out to a corps of guards. `Take him and put him with the
others !”
Kinnison had not heard the order, but he was ready for anything, and those who
came to take him found that it was much easier to issue such orders than to carry them
out.
“Halt!” snapped the Lensman, his Lens carrying the crackling command deep
into the Wheelmen’s minds. “I do not wish to harm you, but come no closer!”
“You? Harm us?” came a cold, clear thought, and the creatures vanished. But
not for long. They or others like them were back in moments, this time armed and
armored for strife.
Again Kinnison found that DeLameters were useless. The armor of the foe
mounted generators as capable as his own, and, although the air in the room soon
became one intolerably glaring field of force, in which the very walls themselves began
to crumble and to vaporize, neither he nor his attackers were harmed. Again, then, the
Lensman had recourse to his mediaeval weapon, sheathing his DeLameter and wading
in with his axe. Although not a vanBuskirk, he was, for an Earthman, of unusual
strength, skill, and speed, and to those opposing him he was a very Hercules.