“A couple of hours!” In his relief Cleveland shouted the words. “That’s time to burn – we can be just about out of the Galaxy in that . . .” He broke off at a yell from Rodebush.
“Broadcast, Spud, BROADCAST!” the physicist had cried, as Costigan’s image had disappeared utterly from his plate.
He cut off the Boise’s power, stopping her instantaneously in mid-space, but the connection had been broken. Costigan could not possibly have heard the orders to change his beam signal to a broadcast, so that they could pick it up; nor would it have done any good if he had heard and had obeyed. So immeasurably great had been their velocity that they had flashed past the speedster and were now unknown thousands – or millions – of miles beyond the fugitives they had come so far to help; far beyond the range of any possible broadcast. But Cleveland understood instantly what had happened. He now had a little data upon which to work, and his hands flew over the keys of the calculator.
“Back blast, at maximum, seventeen seconds!” he directed crisply. “Not exact, of course, but that will put us close enough so that we can find ‘em with our detectors.”
For the calculated seventeen seconds the super-ship retraced her path, at the same awful speed with which she had come so far. The blast expired and there, plainly limned upon the observation plates, was the Nevian speedster.
“As a computer, you’re good, Cleve,” Rodebush applauded. “So close that we can’t use the neutralizers to catch him. If we use one dyne of drive we’ll overshoot a million kilometers before I could snap the switch.”
“And yet he’s so far away and going so fast that if we keep our inertia on it’ll take all day at full blast to overtake – no, wait a minute – we could never catch him.”
Cleveland was puzzled. “What to do? Shunt in a potentiometer?”
“No, we don’t need it.” Rodebush turned to the transmitter. “Costigan! We are going to take hold of you with a very light tractor – a tracer, really – and whatever you do, DON’T CUT IT, or we can’t reach you in time. It may look like a collision, but it won’t be we’ll just touch you, without even a jar.”
“A tractor – inertialess?” Cleveland wondered.
“Sure. Why not?” Rodebush set up the beam at its absolute minimum of power and threw in the switch.
While hundreds of thousands of miles separated the two vessels and the attractor was exerting the least effort of Which it was capable, yet the super-ship leaped toward the smaller craft at a pace which covered the intervening distance in almost no time at all. So rapidly were the objectives enlarging upon the plates that the automatic focusing devices could scarcely function rapidly enough to keep them in place.
Cleveland flinched involuntarily and seized his arm-rests in a spasmodic clutch as he watched this, the first inertialess space-approach; and even Rodebush, who knew better than anyone else what to expect, held his breath and swallowed hard at the unbelievable rate at which the two vessels were rushing together.
And if these two, who had rebuilt the super-ship, could hardly control themselves, what of the three in the speedster, who knew nothing whatever of the wonder-craft’s potentialities? Clio, staring into the plate with Costigan, uttered one piercing shriek as she sank her fingers into his shoulders. Bradley swore a mighty deep- space oath and braced himself against certain annihilation. Costigan stared for an instant, unable to believe his eyes; then, in spite of the warning, his hand darted toward the studs which would cut the beam. Too late. Before his flying fingers could reach the buttons the Boise was upon them; had struck the speedster in direct central impact.
Moving at the full measure of her unthinkable velocity though the super-ship was in the instant of impact, yet the most delicate recording instruments of the speedster could not detect the slightest shock as the enormous globe struck the comparatively tiny torpedo and clung to it; accommodating – instantaneously and effortlessly her own terrific pace to that of the smaller and infinitely slower craft. Clio sobbed in relief and Costigan, one arm around her, sighed hugely.
“Hey, you spacelugs!” he cried. “Glad to see you, and all that, but you might as well kill a man outright as scare him to death! So that’s the super-ship, huh? Some ship!”
“Hi-ya, Murf! Hi, Spud!” came from the speaker.
“Murf? Spud? How come?” Clio, practically recovered now, glanced upward questioningly. It was plain that she did not quite know whether or not to like the nicknames which the rescuers were calling her Conway.
“My middle name is Murphy, so they’ve called me things like that ever since I was so high.” Costigan indicated a length of approximately twelve inches. “And now you’ll probably live long enough – I hope – to hear me called a lot worse stuff than that.”
“Don’t talk that way – we’re safe now, Con . . . Spud? It’s nice that they like you so much – but they would, of course.” She snuggled even closer, and both listened to what Rodebush was saying.
“. . . realize myself that it would look so bad; it scared me as much as it did anybody. Yes, this is IT. She really works – thanks more than somewhat to Conway Costigan, by the way. But you had better transfer. If you’ll get your things . . .”
“ ‘Things’ is good!” Costigan laughed, and Clio giggled sunnily.
“We’ve made so many transfers already that what you see is all we’ve got,”
Bradley explained. “We’ll bring ourselves, and we’ll hurry. That Nevian is coming up fast.”
“Is there anything on this ship you fellows want?” Costigan asked.
“There may be, but we haven’t any locks big enough to let her inside and we haven’t time to study her now. You might leave her controls in neutral, so that we can calculate her position if we should want her later on.”
“All right.” The three armor-clad figures stepped into the Boise’s open lock, the tractor beam was cut off, and the speedster flashed away from the now stationary super-ship.
“Better let formalities go for a while,” Captain Bradley interrupted the general introductions taking place. “I was scared out of nine years’ growth when I saw you coming at us, and maybe I’ve still got the humps; but that Nevian is coming up fast, and if you don’t already know it I can tell you that she’s no light cruiser.”
“That’s so, too,” Costigan agreed. “Have you fellows got enough stuff so that you think you can take him? You’ve got the legs on him, anyway – you can certainly run if you want to!”
“Run?” Cleveland laughed. “We have a bone of our own to pick with that ship.
We licked her to a standstill once, until we burned out a set of generators, and since we got them fixed we’ve been chasing her all over space. We were chasing her when we picked up your call. See there? She’s doing the running.”
The Nevian was running, in truth. Her commander had seen and had recognized the great vessel which had flashed out of nowhere to the rescue of the three fugitives from Nevia; and, having once been at grips with that vengeful super-dreadnaught, he had little stomach for another encounter. Therefore his side-thrust was now being exerted in the opposite direction; he was frankly trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and Triplanetary’s formidable warship. In vain. A light tractor was clamped on and the Boise. flashed up to close range before Rodebush restored her inertia and Cleveland brought the two vessels relatively to rest by increasing gradually his tractor’s pull. And this time the Nevian could not cut the tractor. Again that shearing plane of force bit into it and tore at it, but it neither yielded nor broke. The rebuilt generators of Number Four were designed to carry the load, and they carried it.
And again Triplanetary’s every mighty weapon was brought into play.
The “cans” were thrown, ultra- and infra-beams were driven, the furious macro- beam gnawed hungrily at the Nevian’s defenses; and one by one those defenses went down. In desperation the enemy commander threw his every generator behind a polycyclic screen; only to see Cleveland’s even more powerful drill bore relentlessly through it. After that puncturing, the end came soon. A secondary SX7 beam was now in place on mighty Ten’s inner rings, and one fierce blast blew a hole completely through the Nevian cruiser. Into that hole entered Adlington’s terrific bombs and their gruesome fellows, and where they entered, life departed. All defenses vanished, and under the blasts of the Boise’s batteries, now unopposed, the metal of the Nevian vessel exploded into a widely spreading cloud of vapor. Sparkling vapor, with perhaps here and there a droplet or two of material which had been only liquified.