Spacehounds of IPC

by E. E. Smith

  CHAPTER VII

  The Return to Ganymede

  "Must you go back to Ganymede?" Barkovis asked, slowly andthoughtfully. He was sitting upon a crystal bench beside the fountain,talking with Stevens, who, dressed in his bulging space-suit, stood nearan airlock of the _Forlorn Hope_. "It seems a shame that you should faceagain those unknown, monstrous creatures who so inexcusably attacked usboth without provocation."

  "I'm not so keen on it myself, but I can't see any other way out of it,"the Terrestrial replied. "We left a lot of our equipment there, youknow; and even if I should build duplicates here, it wouldn't do us anygood. These ten-nineteens are the most powerful transmitting tubes knownwhen we left Tellus, but even their fields, dense as they are, can'thold an ultra-beam together much farther than about six astronomicalunits. So you see we can't possibly reach our friends from here withthis tube; and your system of beam transmission won't hold anythingtogether even that far, and won't work on any wave shorter than Roeser'sRays. We may run into some more of those little spheres, though, and Idon't like the prospect. I wonder if we couldn't plate a layer of thatmirror of yours upon the _Hope_ and carry along a few of those bombs? Bythe way, what is that explosive--or is it something beyond Tellurianchemistry?"

  "Its structure should be clear to you, although you probably could notprepare it upon Tellus because of your high temperature. It is nothingbut nitrogen--twenty-six atoms of nitrogen combined to form one moleculeof what you would call--N-twenty-six?"

  "Wow!" Stevens whistled. "Crystalline, pentavalent nitrogen--no wonderit's violent!"

  "We could, of course, cover your vessel with the mirror, but I am afraidthat it would prove of little value. The plates are so hot that it wouldsoon volatilize."

  "Not necessarily," argued Stevens. "We could live in number onelife-boat, and shut off the heat everywhere else. The life-boats areinsulated from the structure proper, and the inner and outer walls ofthe structure are insulated from each other. With only the headquarterslifeboat warm, the outer wall could be held pretty close to zeroabsolute."

  "That is true. The bombs, of course, are controlled by radio, andtherefore may be attached to the outer wall of your vessel. We shall beglad to do these small things for you."

  The heaters of the _Forlorn Hope_ were shut off, and as soon as theouter shell had cooled to Titanian temperature, a corps of mechanics setto work. A machine very like a concrete mixer was rolled up beside thesteel vessel, and into its capacious maw were dumped boxes and barrelsof dry ingredients and many cans of sparkling liquid. The resultantpaste was pumped upon the steel plating in a sluggish, viscid stream,which spread out into a thick and uniform coating beneath the flyingrollers of the skilled Titanian workmen. As it hardened, the pastesmoothed magically into the perfect mirror which covered thespace-vessels of the satellite; and a full dozen of the mirror explosivebombs of this strange people were hung in the racks already provided.

  "Once again I must caution you concerning those torpedoes," Barkoviswarned Stevens. "If you use them all, very well, but do not try to takeeven one of them into any region where it is very hot, for it willexplode and demolish your vessel. If you do not use them, destroy thembefore you descend into the hot atmosphere of Ganymede. The mirror willvolatilize harmlessly at the temperature of melting mercury, but thetorpedoes must be destroyed. Once more, Tellurians, we thank you forwhat you have done, and wish you well."

  "Thanks a lot for _your_ help--we still owe you something," repliedStevens. "If either of your power-plants go sour on you again, or ifyou need any more built, be sure to let us know--you can come closeenough to the inner planets now on your own beam to talk to us on theultra-communicator. We'll be glad to help you any way we can--and we maycall on you for help again. Goodbye, Barkovis--goodbye, all Titania!"

  He made his way through the bitterly cold shop into the control-room oftheir lifeboat, and while he was divesting himself of his heavy suit,Nadia lifted the _Forlorn Hope_ into the blue-green sky of Titan,accompanied by an escort of the mirrored globes. Well clear of theatmosphere of the satellite, the terrestrial cruiser shot forward atnormal acceleration, while the Titanian vessels halted and wove apattern of blue and golden rays in salute to the departing guests.

  "Well, Nadia, we're off--on a long trek, too."

  "Said Wun Long Hop, the Chinese pee-lo," Nadia agreed. "Sureeverything's all x, big boy?"

  "To nineteen decimals," he declared. "You couldn't squeeze another frankinto our accumulators with a proof-bar, and since they're sending us allthe power we want to draw, we won't need to touch our batteries or tapour own beam until we're almost to Jupiter. To cap the climax, what ittakes to make big medicine on those spherical friends of ours, we'vegot. We're not sitting on top of the world, ace--we've perched exactlyat the apex of the entire universe!"

  "How long is it going to take?"

  "Don't know. Haven't figured it yet, but it'll be _beaucoup_ days," andthe two wanderers from far-distant Earth settled down to the routine ofa long and uneventful journey.

  They gave Saturn and his spectacular rings a wide berth and sped on,with ever-increasing velocity. Past the outer satellites, on and on,the good ship _Forlorn Hope_ flew into the black-and-brilliant depths ofinterplanetary space. Saturn was an ever-diminishing disk beneath them:above them was Jupiter's thin crescent, growing ever larger and morebright, and the Monarch of the Solar System, remaining almost stationaryday after day, increasing steadily in apparent diameter and inbrilliance.

  * * * * *

  Although the voyage from Titan to Ganymede was long, it was notmonotonous, for there was much work to be done in the designing andfabrication of the various units which were to comprise the ultra-radiotransmitting station. In the various compartments of the _Forlorn Hope_there were sundry small motors, blowers, coils, condensers, force-fieldgenerators, and other items which Stevens could use with little or noalteration; but for the most part he had to build everything himself.Thus it was that time passed quickly; so quickly that Jupiter loomedlarge and the Saturnian beam of power began to attenuate almost beforethe Terrestrials realized that their journey was drawing to an end.

  "Our beam's falling apart fast," Stevens read his meters carefully, thenswung his communicator beam toward Jupiter. "We aren't getting quiteenough power to hold our acceleration at normal--think I'll cut now,while we're still drawing enough to let the Titanians know we're offtheir beam. We've got lots of power of our own now; and we're gettingpretty close to enemy territory, so they may locate that heavy beam.Have you found Ganymede yet?"

  "Yes, it will be on the other side of Jupiter by the time we get there.Shall I detour, or put on a little more negative and wait for it to comearound to this side?"

  "Better wait, I think. The farther away we stay from Jupiter and themajor satellites, the better."

  "All x--it's on. Suppose we'd better start standing watches, in casesome of them show up?"

  "No use," he dissented. "I've been afraid to put out ourelectromagnetic detectors, as they could surely trace them in use.Without them, we couldn't spot an enemy ship even if we were lookingright at it, except by accident; since they won't be lighted up andit's awfully hard to see anything out here, anyway. We probably won'tknow they're within a million kilometers until they put a beam on us.Barkovis says that this mirror will reflect any beam they can use, andI've already got a set of photo-cells in circuit to ring an alarm atthe first flash off of our mirror plating. I'd like to get in the firstlicks myself, but I haven't been able to dope out any way of doing it.So you might as well sleep in your own room, as usual, and I'll camphere right under the panel until we get to Ganymede. There's a coupleof little things I just thought of, though, that may help some; andI'm going to do 'em right now."

  Putting on his space-suit, he picked up a power drill and went out intothe bitter cold of the outer structure. There he attacked the innerwall of their vessel, and the carefully established inter-wall vacuumdisappeared in a screaming hiss of air as the temp
ered point bit throughplate after plate.

  "What's the idea, Steve?" Nadia asked, when he had re-entered thecontrol room. "Now you'll have all that pumping to do over again."

  "Protection for the mirrors," he explained. "You see, they aren'tperfect reflectors. There's a little absorption, so that some stuffcomes through. Not much, of course; but enough to kill some of thoseTitanians and almost enough to ruin their ship got through in about tenminutes, and only one enemy was dealing it out. We can stand more thanthey could, of course, but the mirror itself won't stand much more heatthan it was absorbing then. But with air in those spaces instead ofvacuum, and with the whole mass of the _Hope_, except this one lifeboat,as cold as it is, I figure that there'll be enough conduction andconvection through them to keep the outer wall and the mirror cold--coolenough, at least, to hold the mirror on for an hour. If only one shiptackles us, it won't be bad--but I figure that if there's only one,we're lucky."

  * * * * *

  Stevens' fears were only too well grounded, for during the "evening" ofthe following day, while he was carefully scanning the heavens for somesign of enemy craft, the alarm bell over his head burst into its brazenclamor. Instantly he shot out the detectors and ultra-lights and saw notone, but six of the deadly globes--almost upon them, at point-blankrange! One was already playing a beam of force upon the _Forlorn Hope_,and the other five went into action immediately upon feeling thedetector impulses and perceiving that the weapon of their sister shiphad encountered an unusual resistance in the material of that peculiarlymirrored wedge. As those terrific forces struck her, the terrestrialcruiser became a vast pyrotechnic set piece, a dazzling fountain ofcoruscant brilliance: for the mirror held. The enemy beams shot backupon themselves and rebounded in all directions, in the same spectacularexhibition of frenzied incandescence which had marked the resistance ofthe Titanian sphere to a similar attack.

  But Stevens was not idle. In the instant of launching his detectors,as fast as he could work the trips, four of the frightful nitrogenbombs of Titan--all that he could handle at once--shot out into space,their rocket-tubes flaring viciously. The enemy detectors of courselocated the flying torpedoes immediately, but, contemptuous of materialprojectiles, the spheres made no attempt to dodge, but merely lashed outupon them with their ravening rays. So close was the range that theyhad no time to avoid the radio-directed bombs after discovering thattheir beams were useless against the unknown protective covering ofthose mirrored shells. There were four practically simultaneousdetonations--silent, but terrific explosions as the pent-up internalenergy of solid pentavalent nitrogen was instantaneously released--andthe four insensately murderous spheres disappeared into jagged fragmentsof wreckage, flying wildly away from the centers of explosion. One greatmass of riven and twisted metal was blown directly upon the fifth globe,and Nadia stared in horrified fascination at the silent crash as theentire side of the ship crumpled inward like a shell of cardboard underthe awful impact. That vessel was probably out of action, but Stevenswas taking no chances. As soon as he had clamped a pale blue tractor rodupon the sixth and last of the enemy fleet, he drove a torpedo throughthe gaping wall and into the interior of the helpless war-vessel. Therehe exploded it, and the awful charge, detonated in that confined space,literally tore the globular space-ship to bits.

  "We'll show these jaspers what kind of trees make shingles!" he grittedbetween clenched teeth; and his eyes, hard now as gray iron, fairlyemitted sparks as he launched four torpedoes upon the sole remainingglobe of the squadron of the void. "I've had a lot of curiosity to knowjust what kind of unnatural monstrosities can possibly have suchfiendish dispositions as they've got--but beasts, men or devils, they'llfind they've grabbed something this time they can't let go of," andfierce blasts of energy ripped from the exhausts as he drove hismissiles, at their highest possible acceleration, toward the captivesphere so savagely struggling at the extremity of his tractor beam.

  But that one remaining vessel was to prove no such easy victim as hadits sister ships. Being six to one, and supposedly invincible, thesquadron had been overconfident and had attacked carelessly, with onlyits crippling slicing beams instead of its more deadly weapons of totaldestruction; and so fierce and hard had been Stevens' counter-attackthat five of its numbers had been destroyed before they realized whatpowerful armament was mounted by that apparently crude, helpless,and innocuous wedge. The sixth, however, was fully warned, and everyresource at the command of its hellish crew was now being directedagainst the _Forlorn Hope_.

  Sheets, cones, and gigantic rods of force flashed and crackled. Spacewas filled with silent, devastating tongues of flame. The _ForlornHope_ was dragged about erratically as the sphere tried to dodge thosehurtling torpedoes; tried to break away from the hawser of energyanchoring her so solidly to her opponent. But the linkage held, andcloser and closer Stevens drove the fourfold menace of his frightfuldirigible bombs. Pressor beams beat upon them in vain. Hard driven asthose pushers were, they could find no footing, but were reflected atmany angles by that untouchable mirror and their utmost force scarcelyimpeded the progress of the rocket-propelled missiles. Comparativelysmall as the projectiles were, however, they soon felt the effects ofthe prodigious beams of heat enveloping them, and torpedo after torpedoexploded harmlessly in space as their mirrors warmed up and volatilized.But for each bomb that was lost, Stevens launched another, and each onecame closer to its objective than had its predecessor.

  Made desperate by the failure of his every beam, the enemy commanderthought to use material projectiles himself--weapons abandoned longsince by his race as antiquated and inefficient, but a few of which werestill carried by the older types of vessels. One such shell was foundand launched--but in the instant of its launching Stevens' foremost bombstruck its mark and exploded. So close were the other three bombs, thatthey also let go at the shock; and the warlike sphere, hemmed in by fourcenters of explosions, flew apart--literally pulverized. Its projectile,so barely discharged, did not explode--it was loaded with material whichcould be detonated only by the warhead upon impact or by a radio signal.It was, however, deflected markedly from its course by the force of theblast, so that instead of striking the _Forlorn Hope_ in direct centralimpact, its head merely touched the apex of the mirror-plated wedge.That touch was enough. There was another appalling concussion, anotherblinding glare, and the entire front quarter of the terrestrial vesselhad gone to join the shattered globes.

  Between the point of explosion and the lifeboats there had been manychannels of insulation, many bulkheads, many air-breaks, and compartmentafter compartment of accumulator cells. These had borne the brunt of theexplosion, so that the control room was unharmed, and Stevens swung hiscommunicator rapidly through the damaged portions of the vessels.

  "How badly are we hurt, Steve--can we make it to Ganymede?"

  Nadia was quietly staring over his shoulder into the plate, studyingwith him the pictures of destruction there portrayed as he flashed theprojector from compartment to compartment.

  "We're hurt--no fooling--but it might have been a lot worse," hereplied, as he completed the survey. "We've lost about all of ouraccumulators, but we can land on our own beam, and landing power is allwe want, I think. You see, we're drifting straight for where Ganymedewill be, and we'd better cut out every bit of power we're using, eventhe heaters, until we get there. This lifeboat will hold heat for quitea while, and I'd rather get pretty cold than meet any more of that gang.I figured eight hours just before they met us, and we were just aboutdrifting then. I think it is safe to say seven hours blind."

  "But can't they detect us anyway? They may have sent out a call, youknow."

  "If we aren't using any power for anything, their electromagnetics arethe only things we'll register on, and they're mighty short-rangefinders. Even if they should get that close to us, they'll probablythink we're meteoric, since we'll be dead to their other instruments.Luckily we've got lots of air, so the chemical purifiers can handle itwithout power. I'll sh
ut off everything and we'll drift it. Couldn't domuch of anything, anyway--even our shop out there won't hold air. But wecan have light. We've got acetylene emergency lamps, you know, and wedon't need to economize on oxygen."

  "Perhaps we'd better run in the dark. Remember what you told me abouttheir possible visirays, and that you've got only two bombs left."

  "All x; that would be better. If I forget it, remind me to blow up thosebefore we hit the atmosphere of Ganymede, will you?" He opened all thepower switches, and, every source of ethereal vibrations cut off, the_Forlorn Hope_ drifted slowly on, now appearing forlorn indeed.

  * * * * *

  Seven hours dragged past: seven age-long hours during which the two sattense, expecting they knew not what, talking only at intervals and insubdued tones. Stevens then snapped on the communicator beam just longenough to take an observation upon Ganymede. Several such brief glimpseswere taken; then, after a warning word to his companion, he sent out andexploded the nitrogen bombs. He then threw on the power, and the vesselleaped toward the satellite under full acceleration. Close to theatmosphere it slanted downward in a screaming, fifteen-hundred-miledrive; and soon the mangled wedge dropped down into the little canyon,which for so long had been "home."

  "Well, colonel, home again!" Stevens exulted as he neutralized thecontrols. "There's that falls, our power plant, the catapults, 'n'everything. Now, unless something interrupts us again; we'll run upour radio tower and give Brandon the long yell."

  "How much more have you got to do before you can start sending?"

  "Not an awful lot. Everything built--all I've got to do is assembleit. I should be able to do it easily in a week. Hope nothing elsehappens--if I drag you into any more such messes as those we've justbeen getting out of by the skin of our teeth, I'll begin to wish thatwe had started out at first to drift it back to Tellus in the _Hope_.Let's see how much time we've got. We should start shooting one dayafter an eclipse, so that we'll have five days to send. You see, wedon't want to point our beam too close to Jupiter or to any of the largesatellites, because the enemy might live there and might intercept it.We had an eclipse yesterday--so one week from today, at sunrise, Istart shooting."

  "But Earth's an evening star now; you can't see it in the morning."

  "I'm not going to aim at Tellus. I'm shooting at Brandon, and he's neverthere for more than a week or two at a stretch. They're prowling aroundout in space somewhere almost all the time."

  "Then how can you possibly hope to hit them?"

  "It may be quite a job of hunting, but not as bad as you might think.They probably aren't much, if any, outside the orbit of Mars, andthey usually stay within a couple of million kilometers or so of theEcliptic, so we'll start at the sun and shoot our beam in a spiralto cover that field. We ought to be able to hit them inside of twelvehours, but if we don't, we'll widen our spiral and keep on trying untilwe do hit them."

  "Heavens, Steve! Are you planning on telegraphing steadily for days ata time?"

  "Sure, but not by hand, of course--I'll have an automatic sender andautomatic pointers."

  Stevens had at his command a very complete machine-shop, he had an amplesupply of power, and all that remained for him to do was to assemble theparts which he had built during the long journey from Titan to Ganymede.Therefore, at sunrise of the designated day, he was ready, and, withNadia hanging breathless over his shoulder, he closed the switch, atoothed wheel engaged a delicate interrupter, and a light sounder beganits strident chatter.

  "Ganymede point oh four seven ganymede point oh four seven ganymedepoint oh four seven..." endlessly the message was poured out into theether, carried by a tight beam of ultra-vibrations and driven by forcessufficient to propel it well beyond the opposite limits of the orbitof Mars.

  "What does it say? I can't read code."

  Stevens translated the brief message, but Nadia remained unimpressed.

  "But it doesn't say anything!" she protested. "It isn't addressed toanybody, it isn't signed--it doesn't tell anybody anything aboutanything."

  "It's all there, ace. You see, since the beam is moving sidewise veryrapidly at that range and we're shooting at a small target, the messagehas to be very short or they won't get it all while the beam's on'em--it isn't as though we were broadcasting. It doesn't need anyaddress, because nobody but the _Sirius_ can receive it--except possiblythe Jovians. They'll know who's sending it without any signature. Ittells them that Ganymede wants to receive a message on the ultra-bandcentering on forty-seven thousandths. Isn't that enough?"

  "Maybe. But suppose some of them live right here on Ganymede--you'llbe shooting right through the ground all night--or suppose that even ifthey don't live here, that they can find our beam some way? Or supposethat Brandon hasn't got his machine built yet, or suppose that it isn'tturned on when our beam passes them, or suppose they're asleep then?A lot of things might happen."

  "Not so many, ace--your first objection is the only one that hasn't gotmore holes in it than a sieve, so I'll take it first. Since our beam isonly a meter in diameter here and doesn't spread much in the first fewmillion kilometers, the chance of direct reception by the enemy, evenif they do live here on Ganymede, is infinitesimally small. But I don'tbelieve that they live here--at least, they certainly didn't land onthis satellite. As you suggest, however, it is conceivable that they mayhave detector screens delicate enough to locate our beam at a distance;but since in all probability that means a distance of hundreds ofthousands of kilometers, I think it highly improbable. We've got to takethe same risk anyway, no matter what we do, whenever we start to use anykind of driving power, so there's no use worrying about it. As for yourlast two objections, I know Brandon and I know Westfall. Brandon willhave receivers built that will take in any wave possible of propagation,and Westfall, the cautious old egg, will have them running twenty-fourhours a day, with automatic recorders, finders, and everything else thatBrandon can invent--and believe me, sweetheart, that's a lot of stuff!"

  "It's wonderful, the way you three men are," replied Nadia thoughtfully,reading between the lines of Stevens' utterance. "They knew that youwere on the _Arcturus_, of course--and they knew that if you were aliveyou'd manage in some way to get in touch with them. And you, away outhere after all this time, are superbly confident that they are expectinga call from you. That, I think, is one of the finest things I ever heardof."

  "They're two of the world's best--absolutely." Nadia looked at him,surprised, for he had not seen anything complimentary to himself in herremark. "Wait until you meet them. They're men, Nadia--real men. Andspeaking of meeting them--please try to keep on loving me after you meetNorm Brandon, will you?"

  "Don't be a simp!" her brown eyes met his steadily. "You didn't meanthat--you didn't even say it, did you?"

  "Back it comes, sweetheart! But knowing myself and knowing thosetwo...."

  "Stop it! If Norman Brandon or Quincy Westfall had been here insteadof you, or both of them together, we'd have been here from now on--wewouldn't even have gotten away from the Jovians!"

  * * * * *

  "Now it's your turn to back water, guy!"

  "Well, maybe, a little--if both of them were here, they ought to equalyou in some things. Brandon says himself that he and Westfall togethermake one scientist--Dad says he says so."

  "You don't want to believe everything you hear. Neither of them willadmit that he knows anything or can do anything--that's the way theyare."

  "Dad has told me a lot about them--how they've always been togetherever since their undergraduate days. How they studied together all overthe world, even after they'd been given all the degrees loose. Howthey even went to the other planets to study--to Mars, where they hadto live in space-suits all the time, and to Venus, where they had totake ultra-violet treatments every day to keep alive. How they learnedeverything that everybody else knew and then went out into space to findout things that nobody else ever dreamed of. How you came to join them,and what you
three have done since. They're fine, of course--but theyaren't _you_," she concluded passionately.

  "No, thank Heaven! I know you love me, Nadia, just as I love you--youknow I never doubted it. But you'll like them, really. They're awonderful team. Brandon's a big brute, you know--fully five centimeterstaller than I am, and he weighs close to a hundred kilograms--and nolard, either. He's wild, impetuous, always jumping at conclusions andworking out theories that seem absolutely ridiculous, but they'reusually sound, even though impractical. Westfall's the practicalmember--he makes Norm pipe down, pins him down to facts, and makes itpossible to put his hunches and wild flashes of genius into workableform. Quince is a...."

  "Now _you_ pipe down! I've heard you rave _so_ much about those two--I'dlots rather rave about you, and with more reason. I wish that sounderwould start sounding."

  "Our first message hasn't gone half way yet. It takes about fortyminutes for the impulse to get to where I think they are, so that evenif they got the first one and answered it instantly, it would be eightyminutes before we'd get it. I sort of expect an answer late tonight, butI won't be disappointed if it takes a week to locate them."

  "I will!" declared the girl, and indeed, very little work was done thatday by either of the castaways.

  Slowly the day wore on, and the receiving sounder remained silent.Supper was eaten as the sun dropped low and disappeared, but they feltno desire to sleep. Instead, they went out in front of the steel wall,where Stevens built a small campfire. Leaning back against the wall oftheir vessel, they fell into companionable silence, which was suddenlybroken by Stevens.

  "Nadia, I just had a thought. I'll bet four dollars I've wasted a lot oftime. They'll certainly have automatic relays on Tellus, to save me thetrouble of hunting for them, but like an idiot I never thought of ituntil just this minute, in spite of the speech I made you about them.I'm going to change those directors right now."

  "That's quite a job, isn't it?"

  "No, only a few minutes."

  "Do it in the morning; you've done enough for one day--maybe you've hitthem already, any way."

  They again became silent, watching Jupiter, an enormous moon some sevendegrees in apparent diameter.

  "Steve, I simply can't get used to such a prodigious moon! Look at thestripes, and look at that perfectly incredible...."

  A gong sounded and they both jumped to their feet and raced madly intothe _Hope_. The ultra-receiver had come to life and the sounder waschattering insanely--someone was sending with terrific speed, but withperfect definition and spacing.

  "That's Brandon's fist--I'd know his style anywhere," Stevens shouted,as he seized notebook and pencil.

  "Tell me what it says, quick, Steve!" Nadia implored.

  "Can't talk--read it!" Stevens snapped. His hand was flying over thepaper, racing to keep up with the screaming sounder.

  "...ymede all x stevens ganymede all x stevens ganymede all x placingand will keep sirius on plane between you and tellus circle fifteenforty north going tellus first send full data spreading beam tocover circle fifteen forty quince suggests possibility this messageintercepted and translated personally I think such translationimpossible and that he is wilder than a hawk but just in case theyshould be supernaturally intelligent...."

  Stevens stopped abruptly and stared at the vociferous sounder.

  "Don't stop to listen--keep on writing!" commanded Nadia.

  "Can't," replied the puzzled mathematician. "It doesn't make sense. Itsounds intelligent--it's made up of real symbols of some kind or other,but they don't mean a thing to me."

  "Oh, I see--he's sending mush on purpose. Read the last phrase!"

  "Oh, sure--'mush' is right," and with no perceptible break the signalsagain became intelligible.

  "... if they can translate that they are better scholars than we aresigning off until hear from you brandon."

  * * * * *

  The sounder died abruptly into silence and Nadia sobbed convulsivelyas she threw herself into Stevens' arms. The long strain over, theterrible uncertainty at last dispelled, they were both incoherent fora minute--Nadia glorifying the exploits of her lover, Stevens creditingthe girl herself and his two fellow-scientists with whatever success hadbeen achieved. A measure of self-control regained, Stevens cut off hisautomatic sender, changed the adjustments of his directors and cut inhis manually operated sending key.

  "What waves are you using, anyway?" asked Nadia, curiously. "They mustbe even more penetrating than Roeser's Rays, to have such a range, andRoeser's Rays go right through a planet without even slowing up."

  "They're of the same order as Roeser's--that is, they're sub-electronicwaves of the fourth order--but they're very much shorter, and hence morepenetrating. In fact, they're the shortest waves yet known, so shortthat Roeser never even suspected their existence."

  "Suppose there's a Jovian space-ship out there somewhere that interceptsour beams. Couldn't they locate us from it?"

  "Maybe, and maybe not--we'll just have to take a chance on that. Thatgoes right back to what we were talking about this morning. They mightbe anywhere, so the chance of hitting one is very small. It isn't likehitting the _Sirius_, because we knew within pretty narrow limits whereto look for her, and even at that we had to hunt for her for half a daybefore we hit her. We're probably safe, but even if they should havelocated us, we'll probably be able to hide somewhere until the _Sirius_gets here. Well, the quicker I get busy sending the dope, the soonerthey can get started."

  "Tell them to be sure and bring me all my clothes they can find,a gallon of perfume, a barrel of powder, and a carload of Delray'sFantasie chocolates--I've been a savage so long that I want to wallowin luxury for a while."

  "I'll do that--and I want some real cigarettes!"

  Stevens first sent a terse, but complete account of everything that hadhappened to the _Arcturus_, and a brief summary of what he and Nadiahad done since the cutting up of the IPV. The narrative finished, helaunched into a prolonged and detailed scientific discussion of theenemy and their offensive and defensive weapons. He dwelt precisely andat length upon the functioning of everything he had seen. Though duringthe long months of their isolation he had been too busy to do any actualwork upon the weapons of the supposed Jovians, yet his keen mind hadevolved many mathematical and physical deductions, hypotheses, andtheories, and these he sent out to the _Sirius_, concluding:

  "There's all the dope I can give you. Figure it out, and don't come atall until you can come loaded for bear; they're bad medicine. Call usoccasionally, to keep us informed as to when to expect you, but don'tcall too often. We don't want them locating you, and if they shouldlocate us through your ray or ours, it would be just too bad. So-long.Stevens and Newton."

  Nadia had insisted upon staying up and had been brewing pot after potof her substitutes for coffee while he sat at the key; and it wasalmost daylight when he finally shut off the power and arose, hisright arm practically paralyzed from the unaccustomed strain of hoursof telegraphing.

  "Well, sweetheart, that's that!" he exclaimed in relief. "Brandon andWestfall are on the job. Nothing to do now but wait, and study up on ourown account on those Jovians' rays. This has been one long day for us,though, little ace, and I suggest that we sleep for about a week!"