vast forces now seeking the easiest path to neutralization, delicate instruments blew up” copper ran in streams. As
the last machine subsided into a semi-molten mass of metal the two wreckers” each grasping a brace, felt
themselves become weightless and knew that they had accomplished the first part of their program.
Costigan leaped for the outer door. His the task to go to Clio’s aid-Bradley would follow more slowly, bringing the
girl’s armor and taking care of any possible pursuit. As he sailed through the air he spoke.
“Coming, Clio! All right” girl?” Questioningly, half fearfully.
“All right” Conway.” Her voice was almost unrecognizable, broken in retching agony. “When everything went crazy
he … found out that the ether-wall was up and . . . forgot all about me. He shut it off . . . and seemed to go crazy too
. . . he is floundering around like a wild man now … I’m trying to keep … him from … going downstairs.”
“Good girl-keep him busy one minute more-he’s getting all the warnings at once and wants to get back to his board.
But what’s the matter with you? Did he. . . hurt you, after all?”
“Oh, no” not that-he didn’t do anything but look at me-but that was bad enough-but I’m sick-horribly sick. I’m falling
. . .I’m so dizzy that I can scarcely see … my head is breaking up into little pieces . . . I just know I’m going to die,
Conway! Oh . . . oh!”
“Oh, is that all!” In his sheer relief that they had been in time” Costigan did not think of sympathizing with Clio’s
very real present distress of mind and body. “I forgot that you’re a ground-gripper-that’s just a little touch of
space-sickness. It’ll wear off directly . . . All right, I’m coming! Let go of him and get as far away from him as you
cant”
He was now in the street. Perhaps two hundred feet distant and a hundred feet above him was the tower room in
which were Clio and Roger. He sprang directly towards its large window, and as he floated “upward” he corrected
his course and accelerated his pace by firing backwards at various angles with his heavy service pistol, uncaring that
at the point of impact of each of those shells a small blast of destruction erupted. He missed the window a trifle,
but that did not matter-his flaming Lewiston opened a way for him, partly through the window, partly through the
wall. As he soared through the opening he trained projector and pistol upon Roger, now almost to the door”
noticing as he did so that Clio was clinging convulsively to a lamp-bracket upon the wall. Door and wall vanished in
the Lewiston’s terrific beam, but the pirate stood unharmed. Neither ravening ray nor explosive shell could harm
him-he had snapped on the protective shield whose generator was always upon his person.
When Clio reported that Roger seemed to go crazy and was floundering around like a wild man, she had no idea of
how she was understanding the actual situation; for Gharlane of Eddore, then energizing the form of flesh that was
Roger, had for the first time in his prodigiously long life met in direct conflict with an overwhelming superior
force.
Roger had been sublimely confident that he could detect the use, anywhere in or around his planetoid, of
ultra-wave. He had been equally sure that he could control directly and absolutely the physical activities of any
number of these semi-intelligent “human beings.”
But four Arisians in fusion-Drounli, Brolenteen, Nedanillor, and Kredigan-had been on guard for weeks. When the
time came to act, they acted.
Roger’s first thought, upon discovering what tremendous and inexplicable damage had already been done, was to
destroy instantly the two men who were doing it. He could not touch them. His second was to blast out of
existence this supposedly human female, but no more could he touch her. His fiercest mental bolts spent
themselves harmlessly three millimeters away from her skin; she gazed into his eyes completely unaware of the
torrents of energy pouring from them. He could not even aim a weapon at her! His third was to call for help to
Eddore. He could not. The sub-ether was closed; nor could he either discover the manner of its closing or trace the
power which was keeping it closed!
His Eddorian body, even if he could recreate it here, could not withstand the environment-this Roger-thing would
have to do whatever it could, unaided by Gharlane’s mental powers. And, physically, it was a very capable body
indeed. Also, it was armed and armored with mechanisms of Gharlane’s own devising; and Eddore’s
second-in-command was in no sense a coward.
But Roger, while not exactly a ground-gripper, did not know how to handle himself without weight; whereas Cos-
tigan, given six walls against which to push, was even more efficient in weightless combat than when handicapped
by the force of gravitation. Keeping his projector upon the pirate, he seized the first clue to hand-a long, slender
pedestal of metal-launched himself past the pirate chief. With all the momentum of his mass and velocity and all
the power of his good right arm he swung the bar at the pirate’s head. That fiercely-driven mass of metal should
have taken head from shoulders, but it did not. Roger’s shield of force was utterly rigid and impenetrable; the only
effect of the frightful blow was to set him spinning, end over end, like the flying baton of an acrobatic drummajor.
As the spinning form crashed against the opposite wall of the room Bradley floated in, carrying Clio’s armor.
Without a word the captain loosened the helpless girl’s grip upon the bracket and encased her in the suit. Then,
supporting her at the window, he held his Lewiston upon the captive’s head while Costigan propelled him towards
the opening. Both men knew that Roger’s shield of force must be threatened every instant-that if he were allowed
to release it he probably would bring to bear a hand-weapon even superior to their own.
Braced against the wall, Costigan sighted along Roger’s body towards the most distant point of the lofty dome of
the artificial planet and gave him a gentle push. Then, each grasping Clio by an arm, the two officers shoved
mightily with their feet and the three armored forms darted away towards their only hope of escape-an emergency
boat which could be launched through the shell of the great globe. To attempt to reach the Hyperion and to escape
in one of her lifeboats would have been useless; they could not have forced the great gates of the main airlocks and
no other exits existed. As they sailed onwards through the air, Costigan keeping the slowly-floating form of Roger
enveloped in his beam. Clio began to recover.
“Suppose they get their gravity fixed?” she asked, apprehensively. “And they’re raying us and shooting at us!” “They
may have it fixed already. The undoubtedly have spare parts and duplicate generators, but if they turn it on the fall
will kill Roger too, and he wouldn’t like that. They’ll have to get him down with a helicopter or something, and they
know that we’ll get them as fast as they come up. They can’t hurt us with hand-weapons, and before they can bring
up any heavy stuff they’ll be afraid to use it, because we’ll be too close to their shell.
“I wish we could have brought Roger along,” he continued, savagely, to Bradley. “But you were right, of course-it’d
be altogether too much like a rabbit capturing a wildcat. My Lewiston’s about done right now, and there can’t be
much left of yours-what he’d do to us would be a sin and a shame.”
Now at the great wall, the two men heaved mightily upon a lever, the gate of the emergency port swung slowly
open, and they entered the miniature cruiser of the void. Costigan, familiar with the mechanism of the craft from
careful study from his prison cell, manipulated the controls. Through gate after massive gate they went, until
finally they were out in open space, shooting towards distant Tellus at the maximum acceleration of which their
small craft was capable.
Costigan cut the other two phones out of circuit and spoke, his attention fixed upon some extremely distant point.
“Samms!” he called sharply. “Costigan. We’re out . . . all right . . . yes . . . sure … absolutely . . . you tell ’em” Sammy,
I’ve got company here.”
Through the sound-discs of their helmets the girl and the captain had heard Costigan’s share of the conversation.
Bradley stared at his erstwhile first officer in amazement, and even Clio had often heard that mighty, half-mythical
name. Surely that bewildering young man must rank high, to speak so familiarly to Virgil Sammy, the all-powerful
head of the space-pervading Service of the Triplanetary League!