He then drew himself to one of the windows and stared out, then went to another window, and another. He seated himself at the crazily tilted control board and studied it. He worked the computer for a few moments.
“I don’t know exactly what to make of this,” he told Dorothy, quietly. “Since the power was on exactly forty-eight hours, we should not be more than two light-days away from our sun. However, we certainly are. I could recognize at least some of the fixed stars and constellations from anywhere within a light-year or so of Sol, and I can’t find even one familiar thing. Therefore we must have been accelerating all the time. We must be somewhere in the neighborhood of two hundred thirty-seven light-years away from home. For you two who don’t know what a light-year is, about six quadrillion—six thousand million million—miles.”
Dorothy’s face turned white; Margaret Spencer fainted; Perkins merely goggled, his face working convulsively.
“Then we’ll never get back?” Dorothy asked.
“I wouldn’t say that—”
“You got us into this!” Perkins screamed, and leaped at Dorothy, murderous fury in his glare, his fingers curved into talons. Instead of reaching her, however, he merely sprawled grotesquely in the air. DuQuesne, braced one foot against the wall and seizing a hand-grip with his left hand, knocked Perkins clear across the room with one blow of his right.
“None of that, louse,” DuQuesne said, evenly. “One more wrong move out of you and I’ll throw you out. It isn’t her fault we’re here, it’s our own. And mostly yours—if you’d had three brain cells working she couldn’t have kicked you. But that’s past. The only thing of interest now is getting back.”
“But we can’t get back.” Perkins whimpered. “The power’s gone, the controls are wrecked, and you just said you’re lost.”
“I did not” DuQuesne’s voice was icy. “What I said was that I don’t know where we are—a different statement entirely.”
“Isn’t that a distinction without a difference?” Dorothy asked acidly.
“By no means, Miss Vaneman. I can repair the control board. I have two extra power bars. One of them, with direction exactly reversed, will stop us, relative to the earth. I’ll burn half of the last one, then coast until, by recognizing fixed stars and triangulating them, I can fix our position. I will then know where our solar system is and will go there. In the meantime, I suggest that we have something to eat.”
“A beautiful and timely thought!” Dorothy exclaimed. “I’m famished. Where’s your refrigerator? But something else comes first. I’m a mess, and she must be, too. Where’s our room . . . that is, we have a room?”
“Yes. That one, and there’s the galley, over there. We’re cramped, but you’ll be able to make out. Let me say, Miss Vaneman, that I really admire your nerve. I didn’t expect that lunk to disintegrate the way he did, but I thought you girls might. Miss Spencer will, yet, unless you . . .”
“I’ll try to. I’m scared, of course, but falling apart won’t help . . . and we’ve simply got to get back.”
“We will. Two of us, at least.”
Dorothy nudged the other girl, who had not paid any attention to anything around her, and led her along a hand-rail. As she went, she could not help but think—with more than a touch of admiration—of the man who had abducted her. Calm, cool, master of himself and the situation, disregarding completely the terrible bruises that disfigured half his face and doubtless half his body as well—she admitted to herself that it was only his example which had enabled her to maintain her self-control.
As she crawled over Perkins’ suit she remembered that he had not taken any weapons from it, and a glance assured her that Perkins was not watching her. She searched it quickly, finding two automatics. She noted with relief that they were standard .45’s and stuck them into her pockets.
In the room, Dorothy took one look at the other girl, then went to the galley and back.
“Here, swallow this.” she ordered.
The girl did so. She shuddered uncontrollably, but did begin to come to life.
“That’s better. Now, snap out of it,” Dorothy said, sharply. “We aren’t dead and we aren’t going to be.”
“I am,” came the wooden reply. “You don’t know that beast Perkins.”
“I do so. And better yet, I know things that neither DuQuesne nor that Perkins even guess. Two of the smartest men that ever lived are on our tail, and when they catch up with us . . . well, I wouldn’t be in their shoes for anything.”
“What?” Dorothy’s confident words and bearing, as much the potent pill, were taking effect. The strange girl was coming back rapidly to sanity and normality. “Not really?”
“Really. We’ve got a lot to do, and we’ve got to clean up first. And with no weight . . . does it make you sick?”
“It did, dreadfully, but I’ve got nothing left to be sick with. Doesn’t it you?”
“Not very much. I don’t like it, but I’m getting used to it. And I don’t suppose you know anything about it”
“No. All I can feel is that I’m falling, and it’s almost unbearable.”
“It isn’t pleasant. I’ve studied it a lot—in theory—and the boys say all you’ve got to do is forget that falling sensation. Not that I’ve been able to do it, but I’m still trying. The first thing’s a bath, and then—”
“A bath! Here? How?”
“Sponge-bath. I’ll show you. Then . . . they brought along quite a lot of clothes to fit me, and you’re just about my size . . . and you’ll look nice in green. . . .”
After they had put themselves to rights, Dorothy said, “That’s a lot better.” Each girl looked at the other, and each liked what she saw.
The stranger was about twenty-two with heavy, wavy black hair. Her eyes were a rich, deep brown; her skin clear, smooth ivory. Normally a beautiful girl, thought Dorothy, even though she was now thin, haggard, and worn.
“Let’s get acquainted before we do anything else,” she said. “I’m Margaret Spencer, formerly private secretary to His High Mightiness, Brookings of Steel. They swindled my father out of an invention worth millions and then killed him. I got the job to see if I could prove it, but I didn’t get much evidence before they caught me. So, after two months of things you wouldn’t believe, here I am. Talking never would have done me any good, and I’m certain it won’t now. Perkins will kill me . . . or maybe, if what you say is true, I should add ‘if he can.’ This is the first time I’ve had that much hope.”
“But how about Dr. DuQuesne? Surely he wouldn’t let him.”
“I’ve never met DuQuesne before, but from what I heard around the office, he’s worse than Perkins—in a different way, of course. He’s absolutely cold and utterly hard—a perfect fiend.”
“Oh, come, you’re too hard on him. Didn’t you see him knock Perkins down when he came after me?”
“No—or perhaps I did, in a dim sort of way. But that doesn’t mean anything. He probably wants you left alive—of course that’s it, since he went to all the trouble of kidnapping you. Otherwise he would have let Perkins do anything he wanted to with you, without lifting a finger.”
“I can’t believe that.” Nevertheless, a chill struck at Dorothy’s heart as she remembered the inhuman crimes attributed to the man. “He has treated us with every consideration so far—let’s hope for the best. Anyway, I’m sure we’ll get back safely.”
“You keep saying that. What makes you so sure?”
“Well, I’m Dorothy Vaneman, and I’m engaged to Dick Seaton, the man who invented this spaceship, and I’m as sure as can be that he is chasing us right now.”
“But that’s just what they want!” Margaret exclaimed. “I heard some Top Secret stuff about that. Your name and Seaton’s brings it back to me. Their ship is rigged, some way or other, so it will blow up or something the first time they go anywhere!”
“That’s what they think” Dorothy’s voice dripped scorn. “Dick and his partner—you’ve heard of Martin Crane, of course?”
“I heard the name mentioned with Seaton’s, but that’s all.”
“Well, he’s quite a wonderful inventor, and almost as smart as Dick is. Together they found out about that sabotage and built another ship that Steel doesn’t know anything about. Bigger and better and faster than this one.”
“That makes me feel better.” Margaret really brightened for the first time. “No matter how rough this trip will be, it’ll be a vacation for me now. If I only had a gun . . .”
“Here,” and as Margaret stared at the proffered weapon, “I’ve got another. I got them out of Perkins’ suit.”