The Best of E.E. Doc Smith. Classic Adventures in Space By One of SF’s Great Originals

“You’ve turned in a general call-out,” Bradley stared, rather than asked.

“Long ago-I’ve been in touch right along,” Costigan answered. “Now that they know what to look for and know that

ether-wave detectors are useless, they can find it. Every vessel in seven sectors, clear down to the scout patrols, is

concentrating on this point, and the call is out for all battleships and cruisers afloat. There are enough operatives

out there with ultra-waves to locate that globe, and once they spot it they’ll point it out to all the other vessels.”

“But how about the other prisoners?” asked the girl. “they’ll be killed” won’t they?”

“Hard telling,” Costigan shrugged. “Depends on how things turn out. We lack a lot of being safe ourselves yet.”

“What’s worrying me mostly is our own chance,” Bradley assented. “They will chase us, of course.”

“Sure, and they’ll have more speed than we have. Depends on how far away the nearest Triplanetary vessels are. But

we’ve done everything we can do, for now.”

Silence fell, and Costigan cut in Clio’s phone and came over to the seat upon which she was reclining, white and

stricken-worn out by the horrible and terrifying ordeals of the last few hours. As he seated himself beside her she

blushed vividly, but her deep blue eyes met his grey ones steadily.

“Clio, I . ..we. . . you … that is,” he flushed hotly and stopped. This secret agent, whose clear, keen brain no physical

danger could cloud; who had proved over and over again that he was never at a loss in any emergency, however

desperate-this quick-witted officer floundered in embarrassment like any schoolboy; but continued, doggedly: “I’m

afraid that I gave myself away back there, but . . .”

“We gave ourselves away, you mean,” she filled in the pause. “I did my share, but I won’t hold you to it if you don’t

want-but I know that you love me, Conway!”

“Love you!” the man groaned, his face lined and hard, his whole body rigid. “That doesn’t half tell it, Clio. You don’t

need to hold me-I’m held for life. There never was a woman who meant anything to me before, and there never will

be another. You’re the only woman that ever existed. It isn’t that. Can’t you see that it’s impossible?” “Of course I

can’t-it isn’t impossible at all.” She released her shields, four hands met and tightly clasped, and her low voice

thrilled with feeling as she went on: “You love me and I love you. That is all that matters.”

“I wish it were,” Costigan returned bitterly, “but you don’t know what you’d be letting yourself in for. It’s who and

what you are and who and what I am that’s griping me. You, Clio Marsden, Curtis Marsden’s daughter. Nineteen

years old. You think you’ve been places and done things. You haven’t. You haven’t seen or done anything-you don’t

know what it’s all about. And whom am I to love a girl like you? A homeless space hound who hasn’t been on any

planet three weeks in three years. A hard-boiled egg. A trouble-shooter and a brawler by instinct and training. A sp .

. .” he bit off the word and went on quickly: “Why, you don’t know me at all, and there’s a lot of me that you never

will know-that I can’t let you know! You’d better lay off me, girl” while you can. It’ll be best for you” believe me.”

“But I can’t, Conway, and neither can you,” the girl answered softly, a glorious light in her eyes. “It’s too late for

that. On the ship it was just another of those things, but since then we’ve come really to know each other, and we’re

sunk. The situation is out of control, and we both know it-and neither of us would change it if we could, and you

know that, too. I don’t know very much, I admit, but I do know what you thought you’d have to keep from me, and I

admire you all the more for it. We all honor the Service, Conway dearest-it is only you men who have made and are

keeping the Three Planets fit places to live in-and I know that any one of Virgil Samms’ assistants would have to be

a man in a thousand million . . .”

“What makes you think that?” he demanded sharply. “You told me so yourself, indirectly. Who else in the three

worlds could possibly call him “Sammy?” You are hard” of course, but you must be so-and I never did like soft men,

anyway. And you brawl in a good cause. You are very much a man, my Conway; a real” real man, and I love you!

Now, if they catch us, all right-we’ll die together” at least!” she finished, intensely.

“You’re right, sweetheart, of course,” he admitted. “I don’t believe that I could really let you let me go, even though I

know you ought tp,” and their hands locked together even more firmly than before. “If we ever get out of this jam

I’m going to kiss you, but this is no time to be taking off your helmet. In fact, I’m taking too many chances with you

in keeping your shields off. Snap ’em on again-they ought to be getting fairly close by this time.”

Hands released and armor again tight, Costigan went over to join Bradley at the control board.

“How are they coming, Captain?” he asked.

“Not so good. Quite a ways off yet. At least an hour” I’d say, before a cruiser can get within range.”

“I’ll see if I can locate any of the pirates chasing us. If I do it’ll be by accident; this little spy-ray isn’t good for much

except close work. I’m afraid the first warning we’ll have will be when they take hold of us with a tractor or spear us

with a needle. Probably a beam, though; this is one of their emergency lifeboats and they wouldn’t want to destroy

it unless they have to. Also, I imagine that Roger wants us alive pretty badly. He has unfinished business with all

three of us, and I can well believe that his “not particularly pleasant extinction” will be even less so after the way we

rooked him.”

“I want you to do me a favor, Conway.” Clio’s face was white with horror at the thought of facing again that un-

speakable creature of grey. “Give me a gun or something, please. I don’t want him ever to look at me that way again”

to say nothing of what else he might do, while I’m alive.”

“He won’t,” Costigan assured her, narrow of eye and grim of jaw. He was” as she had said, hard. “But you don’t want

a gun. You might get nervous and use it too soon. I’ll take care of you at the last possible moment, because if he

gets hold of us we won’t stand a chance of getting away again.”

For minutes there was silence. Costigan surveying the ether in all directions with his ultra-wave device. Suddenly

he laughed, and the others stared at him in surprise.

“No, I’m not crazy,” he told them. “This is really funny; it had never occurred to me that the ether-walls of all these

ships make them invisible. I can see them, of course, with this sub-ether spy, but they can’t see us! I knew that they

should have overtaken us before this. I’ve finally found them. They’ve passed us, and are now tacking around, wait-

ing for us to do something so that they can see us! They’re heading right into the Fleet-they think they’re safe, of

course, but what a surprise they’ve got coming to them!”

THE VORTEX BLASTER

Like fire, only worse, intra-atomic energy was a good servant, but a terrible master . . . and unless something

could be done about loose atomic vortices” entire planets would be destroyed!

Safety devices that do not protect.

The “unsinkable” ships that, before the days of Bergenholm and of atomic and cosmic energy, sank into the waters

of the earth.

More particularly, safety devices which, while protecting against one agent of destruction, attract magnet-like an-

other and worse. Such as the armored cable within the walls of a wooden house. It protects the electrical con-

ductors within against accidental external shorts; but, inadequately grounded as it must of necessity be, it may

attract and upon occasion has attracted the stupendous force of lightning. Then, fused, volatized, flaming incan-

descent throughout the length, breadth, and height of a dwelling, that dwelling’s existence thereafter is to be

measured in minutes.

Specifically, four lightning rods. The lightning rods protecting the chromium, glass, and plastic home of Neal

Cloud. Those rods were adequately grounded, grounded with copper-silver cables the bigness of a strong man’s

arm; for Neal Cloud, atomic physicist, knew his lightning and he was taking no chances whatever with the safety of

his lovely wife and their three wonderful kids.

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