<h2><SPAN name="I" id="I"></SPAN>I</h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="smcap">Patrol Cruiser</span> "IP-T 247" circling out toward
Pluto on leisurely inspection tour to visit the outpost
miners there, was in no hurry at all as she loafed along. Her
six-man crew was taking it very easy, and easy meant two-man
watches, and low speed, to watch for the instrument
panel and attend ship into the bargain.</p>
<p>She was about thirty million miles off Pluto, just beginning
to get in touch with some of the larger mining stations out
there, when Buck Kendall's turn at the controls came along.
Buck Kendall was one of life's little jokes. When Nature
made him, she was absentminded. Buck stood six feet two
in his stocking feet, with his usual slight stoop in operation.
When he forgot, and stood up straight, he loomed about
two inches higher. He had the body and muscles of a dock
navvy, which Nature started out to make. Then she forgot
and added something of the same stuff she put in Sir
Francis Drake. Maybe that made Old Nature nervous, and
she started adding different things. At any rate, Kendall,
as finally turned out, had a brain that put him in the first
rank of scientists—when he felt like it—the general constitution
of an ostrich and a flair for gambling.<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>The present position was due to such a gamble. An IP
man, a friend of his, had made the mistake of betting him a
thousand dollars he wouldn't get beyond a Captain's bars
in the Patrol. Kendall had liked the idea anyway, and adding
a bit of a bet to it made it irresistible. So, being a very
particular kind of a fool, the glorious kind which old Nature
turns out now and then, he left a five million dollar estate on
Long Island, Terra, that same evening, and joined up in the
Patrol. The Sir Francis Drake strain had immediately come
forth—and Kendall was having the time of his life. In a six-man
cruiser, his real work in the Interplanetary Patrol had
started. He was still in it—but it was his command now,
and a blue circle on his left sleeve gave his lieutenant's rank.</p>
<p>Buck Kendall had immediately proceeded to enlist in his
command the IP man who had made the mistaken bet, and
Rad Cole was on duty with him now. Cole was the technician
of the T-247. His rank as Technical Engineer was practically
equivalent to Kendall's circle-rank, which made the two
more comfortable together.</p>
<p>Cole was listening carefully to the signals coming through
from Pluto. "That," he decided, "sounds like Tad Nichols'
fist. You can recognize that broken-down truck-horse trot
of his on the key as far away as you can hear it."</p>
<p>"Is that what it is?" sighed Buck. "I thought it was
static mushing him at first. What's he like?"</p>
<p>"Like all the other damn fools who come out two billion
miles to scratch rock, as if there weren't enough already
on the inner planets. He's got a rich platinum property.
Sells ninety percent of his output to buy his power,
and the other eleven percent for his clothes and food."</p>
<p>"He must be an efficient miner," suggested Kendall, "to
maintain 101% production like that."</p>
<p>"No, but his bank account is. He's figured out that's the
most economic level of production. If he produces less, he
won't be able to pay for his heating power, and if he produces
more, his operation power will burn up his bank account
too fast."</p>
<p>"Hmmm—sensible way to figure. A man after my own<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></SPAN></span>
heart. How does he plan to restock his bank account?"</p>
<p>"By mining on Mercury. He does it regularly—sort of a
commuter. Out here his power bills eat it up. On Mercury
he goes in for potassium, and sells the power he collects
in cooling his dome, of course. He's a good miner, and the
old fool can make money down there." Like any really skilled
operator, Cole had been sending Morse messages while he
talked. Now he sat quiet waiting for the reply, glancing at
the chronometer.</p>
<p>"I take it he's not after money—just after fun," suggested
Buck.</p>
<p>"Oh, no. He's after money," replied Cole gravely. "You
ask him—he's going to make his eternal fortune yet by
striking a real bed of jovium, and then he'll retire."</p>
<p>"Oh, one of that kind."</p>
<p>"They all are," Cole laughed. "Eternal hope, and the rest
of it." He listened a moment and went on. "But old Nichols is
a first-grade engineer. He wouldn't be able to remake that
bankroll every time if he wasn't. You'll see his Dome out
there on Pluto—it's always the best on the planet. Tip-top
shape. And he's a bit of an experimenter too. Ah—he's with
us."</p>
<p>Nichols' ragged signals were coming through—or pounding
through. They were worse than usual, and at first Kendall
and Cole couldn't make them out. Then finally they got them
in bursts. The man was excited, and his bad key-work
made it worse. "—Randing stopped. They got him I think.
He said—th—ship as big—a—nsport. Said it wa—eaded my—ay.
Neutrons—on instruments—he's coming over the horizon—it's
huge—war ship I think—register—instru—neutrons—."
Abruptly the signals were blanked out completely.</p>
<hr class="hrhide" />
<p>Cole and Kendall sat frozen and stiff. Each looked at the
other abruptly, then Kendall moved. From the receiver, he
ripped out the recording coil, and instantly jammed it into
the analyzer. He started it through once, then again, then
again, at different tone settings, till he found a very shrill<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></SPAN></span>
whine that seemed to clear up most of Nichols' bad key-work.
"T-247—T-247—Emergency. Emergency. Randing reports
the—over his horizon. Huge—ip—reign manufacture.
Almost spherical. Randing's stopped. They got him I think.
He said the ship was as big as a transport. Said it was
headed my way. Neutrons—ont—gister—instruments. I think—is
h—he's coming over the horizon. It's huge, and a war
ship I think—register—instruments—neutrons."</p>
<p>Kendall's finger stabbed out at a button. Instantly the
noise of the other men, wakened abruptly by the mild
shocks, came from behind. Kendall swung to the controls,
and Cole raced back to the engine room. The hundred-foot
ship shot suddenly forward under the thrust of her
tail ion-rockets. A blue-red cloud formed slowly behind her
and expanded. Talbot appeared, and silently took her over
from Kendall. "Stations, men," snapped Kendall. "Emergency
call from a miner of Pluto reporting a large armed vessel
which attacked them." Kendall swung back, and eased himself
against the thrusting acceleration of the over-powered
little ship, toward the engine room. Cole was bending over
his apparatus, making careful check-ups, closing weapon-circuits.
No window gave view of space here; on the left
was the tiny tender's pocket, on the right, above and below
the great water tanks that fed the ion-rockets, behind the
rockets themselves. The tungsten metal walls were cold and
gray under the ship lights; the hunched bulks of the apparatus
crowded the tiny room. Gigantic racked accumulators
huddled in the corners. Martin and Garnet swung into position
in the fighting-tanks just ahead of the power rooms;
Canning slid rapidly through the engine room, oozed through
a tiny door, and took up his position in the stern-chamber,
seated half-over the great ion-rocket sheath.</p>
<p>"Ready in positions, Captain Kendall," called the war-pilot
as the little green lights appeared on his board.</p>
<p>"Test discharges on maximum," ordered Kendall. He turned
to Cole. "You start the automatic key?"</p>
<p>"Right, Captain."<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"All shipshape?"</p>
<p>"Right as can be. Accumulators at thirty-seven per cent,
thanks to the loaf out here. They ought to pick up our
signal back on Jupiter, he's nearest now. The station on
Europa will get it."</p>
<p>"Talbot—we are only to investigate if the ship is as reported.
Have you seen any signs of her?"</p>
<p>"No sir, and the signals are blank."</p>
<p>"I'll work from here." Kendall took his position at the
commanding control. Cole made way for him, and moved
to the power board. One by one he tested the automatic
doors, the pressure bulkheads. Kendall watched the instruments
as one after another of the weapons were tested on
momentary full discharge—titanic flames of five million volt
protons. Then the ship thudded to the chatter of the Garnell
rifles.</p>
<hr class="hrhide" />
<p>Tensely the men watched the planet ahead, white, yet
barely visible in the weak sunlight so far out. It was swimming
slowly nearer as the tiny ship gathered speed.</p>
<p>Kendall cast a glance over his detector-instruments. The
radio network was undisturbed, the magnetic and electric
fields recognized only the slight disturbances occasioned by
the planet itself. There was nothing, noth—</p>
<p>Five hundred miles away, a gigantic ship came into instantaneous
being. Simultaneously, and instantaneously, the
various detector systems howled their warnings. Kendall
gasped as the thing appeared on his view screen, with the
scale-lines below. The scale must be cock-eyed. They said
the ship was fifteen hundred feet in diameter, and two
thousand long!</p>
<p>"Retreat," ordered Kendall, "at maximum acceleration."</p>
<p>Talbot was already acting. The gyroscopes hummed in
their castings, and the motors creaked. The T-247 spun on
her axis, and abruptly the acceleration built up as the ion-rockets
began to shudder. A faint smell of "heat" began to
creep out of the converter. Immense "weight" built up,
and pressed the men into their specially designed seats<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></SPAN></span>—</p>
<p>The gigantic ship across the way turned slowly, and
seemed to stare at the T-247. Then it darted toward them
at incredible speed till the poor little T-247 seemed to be
standing still, as sailors say. The stranger was so gigantic
now, the screens could not show all of him.</p>
<p>"God, Buck—he's going to take us!"</p>
<p>Simultaneously, the T-247 rolled, and from her broke every
possible stream of destruction. The ion-rocket flames swirled
abruptly toward her, the proton-guns whined their song of
death in their housings, and the heavy pounding shudder of
the Garnell guns racked the ship.</p>
<p>Strangely, Kendall suddenly noticed, there was a stillness
in the ship. The guns and the rays were still going—but
the little human sounds seemed abruptly gone.</p>
<p>"Talbot—Garnet—" Only silence answered him. Cole
looked across at him in sudden white-faced amazement.</p>
<p>"They're gone—" gasped Cole.</p>
<p>Kendall stood paralyzed for thirty seconds. Then suddenly
he seemed to come to life. "Neutrons! Neutrons—and
water tanks! Old Nichols was right—" He turned to his
friend. "Cole—the tender—quick." He darted a glance at
the screen. The giant ship still lay alongside. A wash of
ions was curling around her, splitting, and passing on. The
pinprick explosions of the Garnell shells dotted space around
her—but never on her.</p>
<p>Cole was already racing for the tender lock. In an instant
Kendall piled in after him. The tiny ship, scarcely ten feet
long, was powered for flights of only two hours acceleration,
and had oxygen for but twenty-four hours for six
men, seventy-two hours for two men—maybe. The heavy
door was slammed shut behind them, as Cole seated himself
at the panel. He depressed a lever, and a sudden smooth
push shot them away from the T-247.</p>
<p>"DON'T!" called Kendall sharply as Cole reached for the
ion-rocket control. "Douse those lights!" The ship was dark
in dark space. The lighted hull of the T-247 drifted away
from the little tender—further and further till the giant ship
on the far side became visible.<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Not a light—not a sign of fields in operation." Kendall
said, unconsciously speaking softly. "This thing is so tiny, that
it may escape their observation in the fields of the T-247 and
Pluto down there. It's our only hope."</p>
<p>"What happened? How in the name of the planets did
they kill those men without a sound, without a flash, and
without even warning us, or injuring us?"</p>
<p>"Neutrons—don't you see?"</p>
<p>"Frankly, I don't. I'm no scientist—merely a technician.
Neutrons aren't used in any process I've run across."</p>
<p>"Well, remember they're uncharged, tiny things. Small
as protons, but without electric field. The result is they
pass right through an ordinary atom without being stopped
unless they make a direct hit. Tungsten, while it has a beautifully
high melting point, is mostly open space, and a neutron
just sails right through it, or any heavy atom. Light atoms stop
neutrons better—there's less open space in 'em. Hydrogen
is best. Well—a man is made up mostly of light elements,
and a man stops those neutrons—it isn't surprising it killed
those other fellows invisibly, and without a sound."</p>
<p>"You mean they bathed that ship in neutrons?"</p>
<p>"Shot it full of 'em. Just like our proton guns, only sending
neutrons."</p>
<p>"Well, why weren't we killed too?"</p>
<p>"'Water stops neutrons,' I said. Figure it out."</p>
<p>"The rocket-water tanks—all around us! Great masses of
water—" gasped Cole. "That saved us?"</p>
<p>"Right. I wonder if they've spotted us."</p>
<hr class="hrhide" />
<p>The stranger ship was moving slowly in relation to the T-247.
Suddenly the motion changed, the stranger spun—and a
giant lock appeared in her side, opened. The T-247 began
to move, floated more and more rapidly straight for the
lock. Her various weapons had stopped operating now, the
hoppers of the Garnell guns exhausted, the charge of the accumulators
aboard the ship down so low the proton guns
had died out.</p>
<p>"Lord—they're taking the whole ship!"<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Say—Cole, is that any ship you ever heard of before?
<i>I don't think that's just a pirate!</i>"</p>
<p>"Not a pirate—what then?"</p>
<p>"How'd he get inside our detector screens so fast? Watch—he'll
either leave, or come after us—" The T-247 had
settled inside the lock now, and the great metal door closed
after it. The whole patrol ship had been swallowed by a
giant. Kendall was sketching swiftly on a notebook, watching
the vast ship closely, putting down a record of its lines, and
formation. He glanced up at it, and then down for a few
more lines, and up at it—</p>
<p>The stranger ship abruptly dwindled. It dwindled with
incredible speed, rushing off along the line of sight at an
impossible velocity, and abruptly clicking out of sight, like
an image on a movie-film that has been cut, and repaired
after the scene that showed the final disappearance.</p>
<p>"Cole—Cole—did you get that? Did you see—do you understand
what happened?" Kendall was excitedly shouting
now.</p>
<p>"He missed us," Cole sighed. "It's a wonder—hanging out
here in space, with the protector of the T-247's fields gone."</p>
<p>"No, no, you asteroid—that's not it. <i>He went off faster than
light itself!</i>"</p>
<p>"Eh—what? Faster than <i>light</i>? That can't be done—"</p>
<p>"He did it, I know he did. That's how he got inside our
screens. He came inside faster than the warning message
could relay back the information. Didn't you see him accelerate
to an impossible speed in an impossible time? Didn't
you see how he just vanished as he exceeded the speed
of light, and stopped reflecting it? <i>That ship was no ship
of this solar system!</i>"</p>
<p>"Where did he come from then?"</p>
<p>"God only knows, but it's a long, long way off."</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></SPAN></span></p>
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