The Wuj at the viewplate said slowly, "It had a hard core after all."
"Yes," said Ajax, "a hard core—in fact, a polished, tooled metal core. What is left of Ajax is a huge metallic construction, almost as big as the original planetoid. The surface, the mud and rock, were debris or camouflage. Ajax underneath was an artificial world. Look at it. I'm going to try for a landing."
Even Emily forgot her aching rump to get up and look.
In their forward viewplates they could see the former world of the now dissolved Fore-Trojan Union. It shone brighdy in the sky as they neared it—a gleaming, metallic surface like a huge oval egg, several miles in length along its longitudinal axis. The rocky outer shell had vanished, shredded into dust and scattered into space.
They were corning to a landing on a new Ajax, a metal-shelled Pandora's Box containing no one knew what wonders of a lost pre-asteroid civilization.
"And it's all mine," said Ajax complacently.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Deftly Ajax Calkins slid the Destiny across the surface of the newly revealed metallic world. Here and there dirty streaks of mud and rock still clung to the surface, but they could clearly see the seams that marked the construction of the ancient shell. Amazingly it seemed to be in perfect shape, possibly because the protective layer of surface had sheltered it from the damage of cosmic dust and meteors throughout the aeons that had passed.
Now the Destiny slid to a stop on the shining surface, at a point where there seemed to be. a large circular line of demarcation. "It may be an opening, a lock of some sort," said Emily as she watched.
"Well see," said Ajax as the space yacht came to a stop. He threw a switch which magnetized pads on the underside of the vessel and which would make it cling firmly to the metal surface. Such pads were standard equipment for small craft and for asteroid operations, since many of the smaller asteroids were chunks of meteoric metal or seamed with metal.
They got into their spacesuits and emerged from the yacht. They found themselves standing on a plain of shining metal, sloping off onto a close horizon. "Its tremendous," said Emily after a moment's silence. "It's like the biggest space liner ever dreamed of."
Ajax started forward toward the circular marking. "It may have been intended as such, but I suspect it was a refuge. Perhaps the people of the lost planet had some warning of coming destruction and built it underground as a treasure house and refuge."
They came to the suspect area, walked around it studying
it. "It surely was an en byway," said Ajax. "Large enough to admit small aircraft or landcraft. But how does it open?"
The Third Least Wuj scuttled across it, began to track around the circle. "There are indentations here," the Martian said.
They crossed to the spot, and saw a series of indentations alongside the tight crack. Ajax waved them to stand clear, and bent down and began to probe the indentations. His fingers definitely pushed something down.
Something clicked in their feet, a vibration as sound did not travel through space. They felt a grinding tremor; then the area within ,the circular crack began slowly to rise, unscrewing steadily. It turned, creakily, stopping, starting, fighting at invisible clogging elements. The three stood and watched it. Finally about a foot of the surface was risen above it, and then this detached itself and began to slide aside.
Now a wide opening was revealed to them; and as they looked into it, they saw a short series of ledges, and saw that another surface of metal could be reached about thirty feet below.
Gingerly they descended the ledges, as if they were stairs. At the bottom, were several indentations in the floor similar to those above. "Do you think we should chance . . ." began Emily, but Ajax simply bent down and pressed into those.
The surface began to sink under their feet, carrying them with it, and above them the cover began to slide back over their heads. "Like an air lock," said Ajax.
"We're taking an awful chance," said Emily, holding on, but gritting her teeth.
Ajax shrugged. They descended farther, and now found themselves in open space; the disc beneath them swung to one side and they stepped out onto a wide bakony-like ledge.
"What's holding us up?" asked Emily. "I feel light-headed; there must be no gravity here, yet we're sticking."
"Our magnetized shoes are holding us to the metal surfaces," said Ajax. "This place is without gravity."
The only light was the built-in beams in their suits. They stood, a little group of three lights, and looked into an area of darkness. But as they watched, there was a humming sound, then a whistling sound, and they felt movement rush past their helmets.
"What's that?" whispered Emily.
"It's air," said the Wuj. "The place is filling up with air from somewhere. And see—there are lights coming on."
They stood and watched as the interior of the mysterious world came to life. Here and there faint blue lights came into being like stars breaking through clouds. More and more lights, some blue, some reddish, now a few yellow and whites appeared. Gradually the view was cleared as the lights cut through the interior. They stood silent with wonder and awe as their view extended.
Now it was ablaze with lights; the air was beginning to be thick about them, and they could feel the first faint hummings of warmth ascending from the surface. They stood on a narrow balcony and overlooked a huge floor of a great many layers that must have filled the huge egg.
From floor to curved ceiling the height may have been fifty feet. And this mighty floor was banked with long rows of cylinders, each resting in its own cradle, each marked in cabalistic symbols. And there were other enclosed objects, suggesting crates, and areas of plain floor. This huge storeroom ran as far as they could see. Around the wall ran the balcony on which they stood, and there were doors breaking the walls regularly.
They stood near one, so they went over and looked into it. It was a small chamber, with what might have been a sleeping pallet, circular and a little off balance for a human form. "This place was built for habitation," said Emily, "but where are the inhabitants?"
"Gone," said Ajax, "millions of years gone. They may never have had time to man this vault. Or they may have tired of hiding out and left it. Or . .
"Who knows?" said the Wuj. "They may even have gone to Mars and become the ancestors of one of our beings." "True," said Ajax. "Let's explore."
They spent several hours wandering around the balcony, descending to the floor to examine the cylinders, looking into other crates, studying the unusual shapes of the things in receptacles aligned along the wall.
Finally they found, not too far from the entry port, a large chamber which gave the appearance of being a command headquarters. It was large, and lined with what seemed like a form of viewplate; there were controls, indicators marked in esoteric calibrations, large cushions scattered around, and other elements indicative of it's nature.
They sat around in there, their helmets open, and talked it over. Ajax summed up. "Plainly, on our entry on the disc, automatic relays started the air and heating systems. The lighting system followed. We may assume that the entire world is now warm, habitable, and waiting for use. Somewhere below us there must be a kitchen setup and food storage, though whether that will prove of any use is unlikely.
"The cylinders on this upper floor, nearest the surface and the presumable surface ports, are obviously rocket craft-small, robotically directed rocket missiles. The Wuj thought they would be message carriers. In my opinion they were ships of war: robot miniature rockets with some land of armament built in.
"This place was built to sustain a fight, but what and why it did not we shall never know. The question is: How do we motivate anything?''
"There must be robot machines. There must be walking devices, floor cars. Probably cookers and dishwashers and driers and sewers and manufacturing devices," said Emily, "but we can't seem to find any way to start them running. I believe they must have been motivated from some central point, like this room. But how to sta
rt it all off. . . . Nothing responds here."
Ajax looked around, his brow in thought. "I'd say it needs a key, like any central plant. It's locked, that's all; nothing will operate until we unlock the main control."
"And how do we find the key?" said the Wuj.
"Search," said Ajax. "We will simply have to set up shop here, near the Destiny up on the surface, where our supplies are, and institute a search. My world will live again and my flag will fly triumphantly."
"Anyway," said the Wuj, "hadn't we better set up our bedding places? Personally I'm ready to sleep."
"Yes," said Ajax. "Who's going up to the surface and bring down some sleeping equipment and some cans of food?"
"I'll go," said Emily Hackenschmidt. She got up, fastened her space helmet on, adjusted her air flow, and went down the balcony to the disc. The two others stood in the doorway and watched her.
She got on the disc, and pressed the indentations. They saw it slowly swing back, rise up carrying her like an elevator and plug itself back into the ceiling, until she had disappeared.
They wandered about the main control hall for what may have been an hour, looking at the banks of controls and indicators and wondering what they would master. After a while, the Wuj squatted down and simply watched Ajax.
Finally, Ajax looked at the spidery creature in impatience. "Shouldn't she be back by now?"
The Wuj nodded. "I hate to question your wisdom, kind leader," he said softly, "but was it entirely wise to send Emily instead of going yourself?"
Ajax replied without thinking. "Of course. She' knows what she needs in change of clothing and nightgowns and such, and I can't pick it out for her from her little scout cruiser. That's why . . ."
His face changed, turned white. "Her scout cruiser! She may have made her getaway! Ohmigosh, I've got to get out!"
He ran out the door and down the balcony. Swiftly he pressed the indentations in the wall that would bring the disc down. He tightened his helmet, gritting his teeth at the delay. When it came down, he jumped on, started the as
cent. Down the balcony the Wuj watched him with big, sad pugdog eyes.
He reached the surface, jumped out. The Destiny was still there, held tight to the surface, safe, intact.
He dashed across to it, and then he saw that the cargo door was open. The yellow EMSA scout ship was gone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Cursing silently to himself at his moment of bone-headedness in allowing his antagonist to get away with such an escape, Ajax wasted no time in getting into the Destiny. And yet, he thought, who else could have gone? As king, it would have been beneath my dignity. The Wuj couldn't be expected to pick out clothes and bedding for humans. Hence . . . it just had to be Emily.
He jumped into the open cargo door hatch and activated it shut; when it was sealed, he ran air into the chamber, opened the inner door leading to the cargo section, went through it and got to the control room that way. Seating himself at the control console, he punched the buttons that would put all in readiness.
He studied the radar scanner which he had activated first. Meteors, a shadow or two—obviously distant asteroid shadows—but no sign of the characteristic blotch that would be a moving spacecraft. "Damn," he whispered, "she must have almost an hour's start."
He demagnetized the pads, started the engines; the trim space yacht slipped easily from the surface of the new Ajax and spiraled up into space. She'll be heading for Juno, he thought. That is the nearest probable EMSA control station. Til follow her. Surely 1 can catch up with her little ship. I outdistanced it easily once.
So he punched out the co-ordinates for the large planetoid Juno on the robot controls, and sat back, with the indicators set for maximum practical speed. He watched the radar, hoping to see her craft caught in its radiation.
But speeding outside the plane of the ecliptic was one thing, and accelerating in the heart and center of the crowded asteroid belt was quite another problem. The ship kept slow
ing, twisting, turning to alter its course as one or another object crossed its projective orbit. An hour went past; two; then three—and still there was no sign of the vessel he pursued.
Ajax Calkins sat tensely at his controls, wondering how long he dared pursue, and how close to Juno he dared bring his ship. But the decision was suddenly taken out of his hands.
He saw a bright flash on his radar and leaned forward. Was that Emily now? For the flash was ahead of him, inward to the sun, in the direction where Juno would be, and farther than that of Mars and Earth and Mercury. But immediately another dot appeared and another and still another; and they were not traveling away from him—they were coming toward him and fast.
Some sort of patrol ships, he realized in an instant. Four of them, in file, coming full tilt for him!
He snapped off the robot controls, grabbed the manuals and spun the ship. It swung around in a wide swing—not too wide, for the momentum could not allow a quick twist. In space at space speeds, a quick turn might encompass thousands of miles.
He didn't attempt a full turn; instead he twisted the ship off at a wide angle, and hoped to slide past the oncoming ships before they could turn after him. Once in a straight race, Ajax Calkins was confident he could outrun them. But the four foe started turning almost as fast as the Destiny.
He switched his ship's radio on. At once, he caught commands directed at him.
"Swing to and identify yourself.- Swing about and land at the nearest asteroid. This is EMSA officia. Swing to or we fire!"
Ajax opened his mike. "This is the space yacht Destiny out of Canada, Earth, on a pleasure cruise. May we proceed?^
There was a crackling of the radio, and the EMSA ship's voice came on, harshly, "Destiny, shut down your engines! You're under arrest for harboring the enemy, and interfering with an EMSA agent. You are ordered to surrender at once!"
"Oh, no, I don't," gritted out Ajax, and switched the radio com off. "You’ll have to catch me."
He slammed on speed, disregarding the danger in the crowded space. But the EMSA ships were already closer to him than was comfortable.
A nova of white fire suddenly came into being close to his line of movement. Then another on the other side. "They're firing," muttered Ajax, "at me!"
He pushed his speed throttle down harder, raced past the two dying bursts of atomic flame. Another one blossomed a little behind him. "I'D show them."
He reached up on his console, flipped open a board revealing another set of buttons. He pushed one, glanced into his rear-view telescreen.
Where there should have been a blossom of fire from his rear gun, there was nothing. The oncoming EMSA ships, now falling back as the Destiny pursued its reckless acceleration, fired in unison.
A blast of blinding flame obscured Ajax's vision for a moment as the burst flared all over his telescreen. Close, he thought, close. The mad acceleration continued.
He fired all his other guns—strictly illegal as they were— and found that none of them worked. "Sabotaged," he muttered. "That blasted Smallways must have put them all out of commission!"
There was nothing for it but to try to outrun the four pursuit cruises. He switched on the radio receiver again, and he could hear the calls of the cruisers to each other.
"Box him in and hurry your fire," said one voice. And another said, "That so-and-so is a real renegade. I understand the Saturnians call him friend and ally." "Boy," said a third voice, "I'd like to get my hands on him!" "You can't," replied the first voice, "but we can blow him to hell and gone, and we will!"
Now a veritable curtain of fire blossomed all around the Destiny as all the ships fired at once. The Destiny suddenly tossed and twisted. More and more flares blinded
Ajax from every side as the EMSA ships blasted away, seeing their fast quarry getting farther from them.
There was a sudden crash somewhere and the Destiny's lights blinked out, to be replaced by a couple of weak auxiliary glimmers. Ajax clung to his seat, leaning over the contr
ols.
Another sudden slam and the ship seemed to somersault, then righted itself. But somewhere there was air escaping; Ajax pulled his helmet down, sealed his spacesuit. He had hardly done this, when two more shots registered on the ship.
He held on as the Destiny suddenly twirled around like a kicked soccer ball and the rush of air past his helmet indicated that the ship was sieved thoroughly. Glancing back, he noticed that he could see the stars shining where once had been a solid wall of his cabins.
"Time to git," he gasped to himself, and stood up. He half ran, half crawled down the main passageway, avoiding the fearful gap where the stars shone through. He clung to a stanchion as another terrible blow struck the ship and the last lights went out. The engine had gone dead and he was alone in silence, nothing but the stars reeling and whirling as the ship was crumbing about him.
He reached his lifeboat—a tiny shell of a rocket—slid open the side of it in the light of his helmet lamp, dropped in prone, slid the top shut, and blasted off.
The little rocket, designed for carrying one man, a minimum of supplies, attached to a tiny atomic jet, shot out of the wreck like a lone torpedo. Away into the blackness he drove and hoped the pursuers would not see his tiny jet in the glares of their shooting.
He twisted back for an instant and was in time to see a direct hit score on the riddled Destiny. The once fine ship simply disintegrated; it flew apart in a brilliant, flowerlike fire display. Then there was darkness in space, and he hurled on, his own jet off, hoping he had not been detected.
In a few minutes, he knew he had not. There was no more activity in the void. Nothing moved, save the same slow interchange that marked a few visible asteroids moving with apparent indolence on their endless orbits. No sign of ship, no sign of pursuit.
He was alone in space, in a shell of metal as snug as a coffin, with enough supplies for perhaps seven days, a radio that could broadcast only a set S. O. S. pattern, and a jet good for about a day's acceleration at low power.
David Grinnell Page 7
