Duquesne's Voyage

: Skylark Three

Far from our solar system a cigar-shaped space-car slackened its

terrific acceleration to a point at which human beings could walk, and

two men got up, exercised vigorously to restore the circulation to their

numbed bodies, and went into the galley to prepare their meal--the first

since leaving the Earth some eight hours or more before.



Because of the long and arduous journey he had decided upon, DuQuesne

had had to abandon his custom of working alone, and had studied all the

available men with great care before selecting his companion and relief

pilot. He finally had chosen "Baby Doll" Loring--so called because of

his curly yellow hair, his pink and white complexion, his guileless blue

eyes, his slight form of rather less than medium height. But never did

outward attributes more belie the inner man! The yellow curls covered a

brain agile, keen, and hard; the girlish complexion neither paled nor

reddened under stress; the wide blue eyes had glanced along the barrels

of so many lethal weapons, that in various localities the noose yawned

for him; the slender body was built of rawhide and whalebone, and

responded instantly to the dictates of that ruthless brain. Under the

protection of Steel he flourished, and in return for that protection he

performed, quietly and with neatness and despatch, such odd jobs as were

in his line, with which he was commissioned.



When they were seated at an excellent breakfast of ham and eggs,

buttered toast, and strong, aromatic coffee, DuQuesne broke the long

silence.



"Do you want to know where we are?"



"I'd say we were a long way from home, by the way this elevator of yours

has been climbing all night."



"We are a good many million miles from the Earth, and we are getting

farther away at a rate that would have to be measured in millions of

miles per second." DuQuesne, watching the other narrowly as he made

this startling announcement and remembering the effect of a similar one

upon Perkins, saw with approval that the coffee-cup in midair did not

pause or waver in its course. Loring noted the bouquet of his beverage

and took an appreciative sip before he replied.



"You certainly can make coffee, Doctor; and good coffee is nine-tenths

of a good breakfast. As to where we are--that's all right with me. I can

stand it if you can."



"Don't you want to know where we're going, and why?"



"I've been thinking about that. Before we started I didn't want to know

anything, because what a man doesn't know he can't be accused of

spilling in case of a leak. Now that we are on our way, though, maybe I

should know enough about things to act intelligently, if something

unforeseen should develop. If you'd rather keep it dark and give me

orders when necessary, that's all right with me, too. It's your party,

you know."



"I brought you along because one man can't stay on duty twenty-four

hours a day, continuously. Since you are in as deep as you can get, and

since this trip is dangerous, you should know everything there is to

know. You are one of the higher-ups now, anyway: and we understand each

other thoroughly, I believe?"



"I believe so."



Back in the bow control-room DuQuesne applied more power, but not enough

to render movement impossible.



"You don't have to drive her as hard all the way, then, as you did last

night?"



"No, I'm out of range of Seaton's instrument now, and we don't have to

kill ourselves. High acceleration is punishment for anyone and we must

keep ourselves fit. To begin with, I suppose that you are curious about

that object-compass?"



"That and other things."



"An object-compass is a needle of specially-treated copper, so activated

that it points always toward one certain object, after being once set

upon it. Seaton undoubtedly has one upon me; but, sensitive as they are,

they can't hold on a mass as small as a man at this distance. That was

why we left at midnight, after he had gone to bed--so that we'd be out

of range before he woke up. I wanted to lose him, as he might interfere

if he knew where I was going. Now I'll go back to the beginning and tell

you the whole story."



* * * * *



Tersely, but vividly, he recounted the tale of the interstellar cruise,

the voyage of the Skylark of Space. When he had finished, Loring

smoked for a few minutes in silence.



"There's a lot of stuff there that's hard to understand all at once. Do

you mind if I ask a few foolish questions, to get things straightened

out in my mind?"



"Go ahead--ask as many as you want to. It is hard to understand a lot of

that Osnomian stuff--a man can't get it all at once."



"Osnome is so far away--how are you going to find it?"



"With one of the object-compasses I mentioned. I had planned on

navigating from notes I took on the trip back to the Earth, but it

wasn't necessary. They tried to keep me from finding out anything, but I

learned all about the compasses, built a few of them in their own shop,

and set one on Osnome. I had it, among other things, in my pocket when I

landed. In fact, the control of that explosive copper bullet is the only

thing they had that I wasn't able to get--and I'll get that on this

trip."



"What is that arenak armor they're wearing?"



"Arenak is a synthetic metal, almost perfectly transparent. It has

practically the same refractive index as air, therefore it is, to all

intents and purposes, invisible. It's about five hundred times as strong

as chrome-vanadium steel, and even when you've got it to the

yield-point, it doesn't break, but stretches out and snaps back, like

rubber, with the strength unimpaired. It's the most wonderful thing I

saw on the whole trip. They make complete suits of it. Of course they

aren't very comfortable, but since they are only a tenth of an inch they

can be worn."



"And a tenth of an inch of that stuff will stop a steel-nosed

machine-gun bullet?"



"Stop it! A tenth of an inch of arenak is harder to pierce than fifty

inches of our hardest, toughest armor steel. A sixteenth-inch

armor-piercing projectile couldn't get through it. It's hard to believe,

but nevertheless it's a fact. The only way to kill Seaton with a gun

would be to use one heavy enough so that the shock of the impact would

kill him--and it wouldn't surprise me a bit if he had his armor anchored

with an attractor against that very contingency. Even if he hasn't, you

can imagine the chance of getting action against him with a gun of that

size."



"Yes, I've heard that he is fast."



"That doesn't tell half of it. You know that I'm handy with a gun

myself?"



"You're faster than I am, and that's saying something. You're chain

lightning."



"Well, Seaton is at least that much faster than I am. You've never seen

him work--I have. On that Osnomian dock he shot twice before I started,

and shot twice to my once from then on. I must have been shooting a

quarter of a second after he had his side all cleaned up. To make it

worse I missed once with my left hand--he didn't. There's absolutely no

use tackling Richard Seaton without an Osnomian ray-generator or

something better; but, as you know, Brookings always has been and always

will be a fool. He won't believe anything new until after he has

actually been shown. Well, I imagine he will be shown plenty by this

evening."



"Well, I'll never tackle him with heat. How does he get that way?"



"He's naturally fast, and has practiced sleight-of-hand work ever since

he was a kid. He's one of the best amateur magicians in the country, and

I will say that his ability along that line has come in handy for him

more than once."



"I see where you're right in wanting to get something, since we have

only ordinary weapons and they have all that stuff. This trip is to get

a little something for ourselves, I take it?"



"Exactly, and you know enough now to understand what we are out here to

get for ourselves. You have guessed that we are headed for Osnome?"



"I suspected it. However, if you were going only to Osnome, you would

have gone alone; so I also suspect that that's only half of it. I have

no idea what it is, but you've got something else on your mind."



"You're right--I knew you were keen. When I was on Osnome I found out

something that only four other men--all--dead--ever knew. There is a

race of men far ahead of the Osnomians in science, particularly in

warfare. They live a long way beyond Osnome. It is my plan to steal an

Osnomian airship and mount all its ray screens, generators, guns, and

everything else, upon this ship, or else convert their vessel into a

space-ship. Instead of using their ordinary power, however, we will do

as Seaton did, and use intra-atomic power, which is practically

infinite. Then we'll have everything Seaton's got, but that isn't

enough. I want enough more than he's got to wipe him out. Therefore,

after we get a ship armed to suit us, we'll visit this strange planet

and either come to terms with them or else steal a ship from them. Then

we'll have their stuff and that of the Osnomians, as well as our own.

Seaton won't last long after that."



"Do you mind if I ask how you got that dope?"



"Not at all. Except when right with Seaton I could do pretty much as I

pleased, and I used to take long walks for exercise. The Osnomians tired

very easily, being so weak, and because of the light gravity of the

planet, I had to do a lot of work or walking to keep in any kind of

condition at all. I learned Kondalian quickly, and got so friendly with

the guards, that pretty soon they quit trying to keep me in sight, but

waited at the edge of the palace grounds until I came back and joined

them.



"Well, on one trip I was fifteen miles or so from the city when an

airship crashed down in a woods about half a mile from me. It was in an

uninhabited district and nobody else saw it. I went over to investigate,

thinking probably I could find out something useful. It had the whole

front end cut or broken off, and that made me curious, because no

imaginable fall will break an arenak hull. I walked in through the hole

and saw that it was one of their fighting tenders--a combination warship

and repair shop, with all of the stuff in it that I've been telling you

about. The generators were mostly burned out and the propelling and

lifting motors were out of commission. I prowled around, getting

acquainted with it, and found a lot of useful instruments and, best of

all, one of Dunark's new mechanical educators, with complete

instructions for its use. Also, I found three bodies, and thought I'd

try it out...."



"Just a minute. Only three bodies on a warship? And what good could a

mechanical educator do you if the men were all dead?"



"Three is all I found then, but there was another one. Three men and a

captain compose an Osnomian crew for any ordinary vessel. Everything is

automatic, you, know. As for the men being dead, that doesn't make any

difference--you can read their brains just the same, if they haven't

been dead too long. However, when I tried to read theirs, I found only

blanks--their brains had been destroyed so that nobody could read them.

That did look funny, so I ransacked the ship from truck to keelson, and

finally found another body, wearing an air-helmet, in a sort of closet

off the control room. I put the educator on it...."



"This is getting good. It sounds like a page of the old 'Arabian Nights'

that I used to read when I was a boy. You know, it really isn't

surprising that Brookings didn't believe a lot of this stuff."



"As I have said, a lot of it is hard to understand, but I'm going to

show it to you--all that, and more."



"Oh, I believe it, all right. After riding in this boat and looking out

of the windows, I'll believe anything. Reading a dead man's brain is

steep, though."



"I'll let you do it after we get there. I don't understand exactly how

it works, myself, but I know how to operate one. Well, I found out that

this man's brain was in good shape, and I got a shock when I read it.

Here's what he had been through. They had been flying very high on their

way to the front when their ship was seized by an invisible force and

thrown upward. He must have thought faster than the others, because he

put on an air-helmet and dived into this locker where he hid under a

pile of gear, fixing things so that he could see out through the

transparent arenak of the wall. No sooner was he hidden that the front

end of the ship went up in a blaze of light, in spite of their ray

screens going full blast. They were up so high by that time that when

the bow was burned off the other three fainted from lack of air. Then

their generators went out, and pretty soon two peculiar-looking

strangers entered. They were wearing vacuum suits and were very short

and stocky, giving the impression of enormous strength. They brought an

educator of their own with them and read the brains of the three men.

Then they dropped the ship a few thousand feet and revived the three

with a drink of something out of a flask."



"Must have been different from the kind handled by most booties I know,

then. The stuff we've been getting lately would make a man more

unconscious than ever."



"Some powerful drug, probably, but the Osnomian didn't know anything

about it. After the men were revived, the strangers, apparently from

sheer cruelty and love of torturing their victims, informed them in the

Osnomian language that they were from another world, on the far edge of

the Galaxy. They even told them, knowing that the Osnomians knew nothing

of astronomy, exactly where they were from. Then they went on to say

that they wanted the entire green system for themselves, and that in

something like two years of our time they were going to wipe out all the

present inhabitants of the system and take it over, as a base for

further operations. After that they amused themselves by describing

exactly the kinds of death and destruction they were going to use. They

described most of it in great detail. It's too involved to tell you

about now, but they've got rays, generators, and screens that even the

Osnomians never heard of. And of course they've got intra-atomic energy

the same as we have. After telling them all this and watching them

suffer, they put a machine on their heads and they dropped dead. That's

probably what disintegrated their brains. Then they looked the ship over

rather casually, as though they didn't see anything they were interested

in; crippled the motors; and went away. The vessel was then released,

and crashed. This man, of course, was killed by the fall. I buried the

men--I didn't want anybody else reading that brain--hid some of the

stuff I wanted most, and camouflaged the ship so that I'm fairly sure

that it's there yet. I decided then to make this trip."



"I see." Loring's mind was grappling with these new and strange facts.

"That news is staggering, Doctor. Think of it. Everybody thinks our own

world is everything there is!"



"Our world is simply a grain of dust in the Universe. Most people know

it, academically, but very few ever give the fact any actual

consideration. But now that you've had a little time to get used to the

idea of there being other worlds, and some of them as far ahead of us in

science as we are ahead of the monkeys, what do you think of it?"



"I agree with you, that we've got their stuff," said Loring. "However,

it occurs to me as a possibility that they may have so much stuff that

we won't be able to make the approach. However, if the Osnomian fittings

we're going to get are as good as you say they are, I think that two

such men as you and I can get at least a lunch while any other crew, no

matter who they are, are getting a square meal."



"I like your style, Loring. You and I will have the world eating out of

our hands shortly after we get back. As far as actual procedure over

there is concerned, of course, I haven't made any definite plans. We'll

have to size up the situation after we get there before we can know

exactly what we'll have to do. However, we are not coming back

empty-handed."



"You said something, Chief!" and the two men, so startlingly unlike

physically, but so alike inwardly, shook hands in token of their mutual

dedication to a single purpose.



* * * * *



Loring was then instructed in the simple navigation of the ship of

space, and thereafter the two men took their regular shifts at the

controls. In due time they approached Osnome, and DuQuesne studied the

planet carefully through a telescope before he ventured down into the

atmosphere.



"This half of it used to be Mardonale. I suppose it's all Kondal now.

No, there's a war on down there yet--at least, there's a disturbance of

some kind, and on this planet that means war."



"What are you looking for, exactly?" asked Loring, who was also

examining the terrain with a telescope.



"They've got some spherical space-ships, like Seaton's. I know they had

one, and they've probably built more of them since that time. Their

airships can't touch us, but those ball-shaped cruisers would be pure

poison for us, the way we are fixed now. Can you see any of them?"



"Not yet. Too far away to make out details. They're certainly having a

hot time down there, though, in that one spot."



They dropped lower, toward the stronghold which was being so stubbornly

defended by the inhabitants of the third planet of the fourteenth sun,

and so savagely attacked by the Kondalian forces.



"There, we can see what they're doing now," and DuQuesne anchored the

vessel with an attractor. "I want to see if they've got many of those

space-ships in action, and you will want to see what war is like, when

it is fought by people, who have been making war steadily for ten

thousand years."



Poised at the limit of clear visibility, the two men studied the

incessant battle being waged beneath them. They saw not one, but fully a

thousand of the globular craft high in the air and grouped in a great

circle around an immense fortification upon the ground below. They saw

no airships in the line of battle, but noticed that many such vessels

were flying to and from the front, apparently carrying supplies. The

fortress was an immense dome of some glassy, transparent material,

partially covered with slag, through which they saw that the central

space was occupied by orderly groups of barracks, and that round the

circumference were arranged gigantic generators, projectors, and other

machinery at whose purposes they could not even guess. From the base of

the dome a twenty-mile-wide apron of the same glassy substance spread

over the ground, and above this apron and around the dome were thrown

the mighty defensive ray-screens, visible now and then in scintillating

violet splendor as one of the copper-driven Kondalian projectors sought

in vain for an opening. But the Earth-men saw with surprise that the

main attack was not being directed at the dome; that only an occasional

ray was thrown against it in order to make the defenders keep their

screens up continuously. The edge of the apron was bearing the brunt of

that vicious and never-ceasing attack, and most concerned the desperate

defense.



For miles beyond that edge, and as deep under it as frightful rays and

enormous charges of explosive copper could penetrate, the ground was one

seething, flaming volcano of molten and incandescent lava; lava

constantly being volatilized by the unimaginable heat of those rays and

being hurled for miles in all directions by the inconceivable power of

those explosive copper projectiles--the heaviest projectiles that could

be used without endangering the planet itself--being directed under the

exposed edge of that unbreakable apron, which was in actuality anchored

to the solid core of the planet itself; lava flowing into and filling up

the vast craters caused by the explosions. The attack seemed fiercest at

certain points, perhaps a quarter of a mile apart around the circle, and

after a time the watchers perceived that at those points, under the edge

of the apron, in that indescribable inferno of boiling lava, destructive

rays, and disintegrating copper, there were enemy machines at work.

These machines were strengthening the protecting apron and extending it,

very slowly, but ever wider and ever deeper as the ground under it and

before it was volatilized or hurled away by the awful forces of the

Kondalian attack. So much destruction had already been wrought that the

edge of the apron and its molten moat were already fully a mile below

the normal level of that cratered, torn, and tortured plain.



Now and then one of the mechanical moles would cease its labors,

overcome by the concentrated fury of destruction centered upon it. Its

shattered remnants would be withdrawn and shortly, repaired or replaced,

it would be back at work. But it was not the defenders who had suffered

most heavily. The fortress was literally ringed about with the shattered

remnants of airships, and the riddled hulls of more than a few of those

mighty globular cruisers of the void bore mute testimony to the

deadliness and efficiency of the warfare of the invaders.



Even as they watched, one of the spheres, unable for some reason to

maintain its screens or overcome by the awful forces playing upon it,

flared from white into and through the violet and was hurled upward as

though shot from the mouth of some Brobdingnagian howitzer. A door

opened, and from its flaming interior four figures leaped out into the

air, followed by a puff of orange-colored smoke. At the first sign of

trouble, the ship next it in line leaped in front of it and the four

figures floated gently to the ground, supported by friendly attractors

and protected from enemy rays by the bulk and by the screens of the

rescuing vessel. Two great airships soared upward from back of the lines

and hauled the disabled vessel to the ground by means of their powerful

attractors. The two observers saw with amazement that after brief

attention from an ant-like ground-crew, the original four men climbed

back into their warship and she again shot into the fray, apparently as

good as ever.



"What do you know about that!" exclaimed DuQuesne. "That gives me an

idea, Loring. They must get to them that way fairly often, to judge by

the teamwork they use when it does happen. How about waiting until they

disable another one like that, and then grabbing it while its in the

air, deserted and unable to fight back? One of those ships is worth a

thousand of this one, even if we had everything known to the Osnomians."



"That's a real idea--those boats certainly are brutes for punishment,"

agreed Loring, and as both men again settled down to watch the battle,

he went on: "So this is war out this way? You're right. Seaton, with

half this stuff, could whip the combined armies and navies of the world.

I don't blame Brookings much, though, at that--nobody could believe half

of this unless they could actually see it, as we are doing."



"I can't understand it," DuQuesne frowned as he considered the

situation. "The attackers are Kondalians, all right--those ships are

developments of the Skylark--but I don't get that fort at all. Wonder

if it can be the strangers already? Don't think so--they aren't due for

a couple of years yet, and I don't think the Kondalians could stand

against them a minute. It must be what is left of Mardonale, although I

never heard of anything like that. Probably it is some new invention

they dug up at the last minute. That's it, I guess," and his brow

cleared. "It couldn't be anything else."



* * * * *



They waited long for the incident to be repeated, and finally their

patience was rewarded. When the next vessel was disabled and hurled

upward by the concentration of enemy forces, DuQuesne darted down,

seized it with his most powerful attractor, and whisked it away into

space at such a velocity that to the eyes of the Kordalians it simply

disappeared. He took the disabled warship far out into space and allowed

it to cool off for a long time before deciding that it was safe to board

it. Through the transparent walls they could see no sign of life, and

DuQuesne donned a vacuum suit and stepped into the airlock. As Loring

held the steel vessel close to the stranger, DuQuesne leaped lightly

through the open door into the interior. Shutting the door, he opened an

auxiliary air-tank, adjusting the gauge to one atmosphere as he did so.

The pressure normal, he divested himself of the suit and made a thorough

examination of the vessel. He then signaled Loring to follow him, and

soon both ships were over Kondal, so high as to be invisible from the

ground. Plunging the vessel like a bullet towards the grove in which he

had left the Kondalian airship, he slowed abruptly just in time to make

a safe landing. As he stepped out upon Osnomian soil, Loring landed the

Earthly ship hardly less skillfully.



"This saves us a lot of trouble, Loring. This is undoubtedly one of the

finest space-ships of the Universe, and just about ready for anything."



"How did they get to it?"



"One of the screen generators apparently weakened a trifle, probably

from weeks of continuous use. That let some of the rays come through;

everything got hot, and the crew had to jump or roast. Nothing is hurt,

though, as the ship was thrown up and out of range before the arenak

melted at all. The copper repellers are gone, of course, and most of the

bars that were in use are melted down, but there was enough of the main

bar left to drive the ship and we can replace the melted stuff easily

enough. Nothing else was hurt, as there's absolutely nothing in the

structure of these vessels that can be burned. Even the insulation in

the coils and generators has a melting-point higher than that of

porcelain. And not all the copper was melted, either. Some of these

storerooms are lined with two feet of insulation and are piled full of

bars and explosive ammunition."



"What was the smoke we saw, then?"



"That was their food-supply. It's cooked to an ash, and their water was

all boiled away through the safety-valves. Those rays certainly can put

out a lot of heat in a second or two!"



"Can the two of us put on those copper repeller-bands? This ship must be

seventy-five feet in diameter."



"Yes, it's a lot bigger than the Skylark was. It's one of their latest

models, or it wouldn't have been on the front line. As to banding on the

repellers--that's easy. That airship is half full of metal-working

machinery that can do everything but talk. I know how to use most of it,

from seeing it in use, and we can figure out the rest."



In that unfrequented spot there was little danger of detection from the

air. And none whatsoever of detection from the ground--of ground-travel

upon Osnome there is none. Nevertheless, the two men camouflaged the

vessels so that they were visible only to keen and direct scrutiny, and

drove their task through to completion on the shortest possible time.

The copper repellers were banded on, and much additional machinery was

installed in the already well-equipped shop. This done, they transferred

to their warship food, water, bedding, instruments, and everything else

they needed or wanted from their own ship and from the disabled

Kondalian airship. They made a last tour of inspection to be sure they

had overlooked nothing useful, then embarked.



"Think anybody will find those ships? They could get a good line on what

we've done."



"Probably, eventually, Loring, so we'd better destroy them. We'd better

take a short hop first, though, to test everything out. Since you're not

familiar with the controls of a ship of this type, you need practise.

Shoot us up around that moon over there and bring us back to this spot."



"She's a sweet-handling boat--easy like a bicycle," declared Loring as

he brought the vessel lightly to a landing upon their return. "We can

burn the old one up now. We'll never need her again, any more than a

snake needs his last year's skin."



"She's good, all right. Those two hulks must be put out of existence,

but we shouldn't do it here. The rays would set the woods afire, and the

metal would condense all around. We don't want to leave any tracks, so

we'd better pull them out into space to destroy them. We could turn them

loose, and as you've never worked a ray, it'll be good practice for you.

Also, I want you to see for yourself just what our best armour-plate

amounts to compared with arenak."



When they towed the two vessels far out into space, Loring put into

practise the instruction he had received from DuQuesne concerning the

complex armament of their vessel. He swung the beam-projector upon the

Kondalian airship, pressed the connectors of the softener ray, the heat

ray, and the induction ray, and threw the master switch. Almost

instantly the entire hull became blinding white, but it was several

seconds before the extremely refractory material began to volatilize.

Though the metal was less than an inch think, it retained its shape and

strength stubbornly, and only slowly did it disappear in flaming,

flaring gusts of incandescent gas.



"There, you've seen what an inch of arenak is like," said DuQuesne when

the destruction was complete. "Now shine it on that sixty-inch

chrome-vanadium armor hull of our old bus and see what happens."



Loring did so. As the beam touched it, the steel disappeared in one

flare of radiance--as he swung the projector in one flashing arc from

the stem to the stern there was nothing left. Loring, swinging the beam,

whistled in amazement.



"Wow! What a difference! And this ship of ours has a skin of arenak six

feet thick!"



"Yes. Now you understand why I didn't want to argue with anybody out

here as long as we were in our steel ship."



"I understand, all right; but I can't understand the power of these

rays. Suppose I had had all twenty of them on instead of only three?"



"In that case, I think that we could have whipped even the short, thick

strangers."



"You and me both. But say, every ship's got to have a name. This new one

of ours is such a sweet, harmless, inoffensive little thing, we'd better

name her the Violet, hadn't we?"



* * * * *



DuQuesne started the Violet off in the direction of the solar system

occupied by the warlike strangers, but he did not hurry. He and Loring

practiced incessantly for days at the controls, darting here and there,

putting on terrific acceleration until the indicators showed a velocity

of hundreds of thousand of miles per second, then reversing the

acceleration until the velocity was zero. They studied the controls and

alarm system until each knew perfectly every instrument, every tiny

light, and the tone of each bell. They practiced with the rays, singly

and in combination, with the visiplates, and with the many levers and

dials, until each was so familiar with the complex installation that his

handling of every control had become automatic. Not until then did

DuQuesne give the word to start out in earnest toward their goal, at an

unthinkable distance.



They had not been under way long when an alarm bell sounded its warning

and a brilliant green light began flashing upon the board.



"Hm ... m," DuQuesne frowned as he reversed the bar. "Outside

intra-atomic energy detector. Somebody's using power out here.

Direction, about dead ahead--straight down. Let's see if we can see

anything."



He swung number six, the telescopic visiplate, into connection. After

what seemed to them a long time they saw a sudden sharp flash,

apparently an immense distance ahead, and simultaneously three more

alarm bells rang and three colored lights flashed briefly.



"Somebody got quite a jolt then. Three rays in action at once for three

or four seconds," reported DuQuesne, as he applied still more negative

acceleration.



"I'd like to know what this is all about!" he exclaimed after a time, as

they saw a subdued glow, which lasted a minute or two. As the warning

light was flashing more and more slowly and with diminishing intensity,

the Violet was once more put upon her course. As she proceeded,

however, the warnings of the liberation of intra-atomic energy grew

stronger and stronger, and both men scanned their path intensely for a

sight of the source of the disturbance, while their velocity was cut to

only a few hundred miles an hour. Suddenly the indicator swerved and

pointed behind them, showing that they had passed the object, whatever

it was. DuQuesne instantly applied power and snapped on a small

searchlight.



"If it's so small that we couldn't see it when we passed it, it's

nothing to be afraid of. We'll be able to find it with a light."



After some search, they saw an object floating in space-apparently a

vacuum suit!



"Shall one of us get in the airlock, or shall we bring it in with an

attractor?" asked Loring.



"An attractor, by all means. Two or three of them, in fact, to

spread-eagle whatever it is. Never take any chances. It's probably an

Osnomian, but you never can tell. It may be one of those other people.

We know they were around here a few weeks ago, and they're the only ones

I know of that have intra-atomic power besides us and the Osnomians."



"That's no Osnomian," he continued, as the stranger was drawn into the

airlock. "He's big enough around for four Osnomians, and very short.

We'll take no chances at all with that fellow."



The captive was brought into the control room pinioned head, hand, and

foot with attractors and repellers, before DuQuesne approached him. He

then read the temperature and pressure of the stranger's air-supply, and

allowed the surplus air to escape slowly before removing the stranger's

suit and revealing one of the Fenachrone--eyes closed, unconscious or

dead.



DuQuesne leaped for the educator and handed Loring a headset.



"Put this on quick. He may be only unconscious, and we might not be able

to get a thing from him if he were awake."



Loring donned the headset, still staring at the monstrous form with

amazement, not unmixed with awe, while DuQuesne, paying no attention to

anything except the knowledge he was seeking, manipulated the controls

of the instrument. His first quest was for the weapons and armament of

the vessel. In this he was disappointed, as he learned that the stranger

was one of the navigating engineers, and as such, had no detailed

knowledge of the matters of prime importance to the inquisitor. He did

have a complete knowledge of the marvelous Fenachrone propulsion system,

however, and this DuQuesne carefully transferred to his own brain. He

then rapidly explored other regions of that fearsome organ of thought.



As the gigantic and inhuman brain was spread before them, DuQuesne and

Loring read not only the language, customs, and culture of the

Fenachrone, but all their plans for the future, as well as the events of

the past. Plainly in his mind they perceived how he had been cast adrift

in the emptiness of the void. They saw the Fenachrone cruiser lying in

wait for the two globular vessels. Looking through an extraordinarily

powerful telescope with the eyes of their prisoner, they saw them

approach, all unsuspecting. DuQuesne recognized all five persons in the

Skylark and Dunark and Sitar in the Kondal; such was that unearthly

optical instrument and so clear was the impression upon the mind before

him. They saw the attack and the battle. They saw the Skylark throw

off her zone of force and attack; saw this one survivor standing

directly in line with a huge projector-spring, and saw the spring

severed by the zone. The free end, under its thousands of pounds of

tension, had struck the being upon the side of the head, and the force

of the blow, only partially blocked by the heavy helmet, had hurled him

out through the yawning gap in the wall and hundreds of miles out into

space.



Suddenly the clear view of the brain of the Fenachrone became blurred

and meaningless and the flow of knowledge ceased--the prisoner had

regained consciousness and was trying with all his gigantic strength to

break from those intangible bonds that held him. So powerful were the

forces upon him, however, that only a few twitching muscles gave

evidence that he was struggling at all. Glancing about him he recognized

the attractors and repellers bearing upon him, ceased his efforts to

escape, and hurled the full power of his baleful gaze into the black

eyes so close to his own. But DuQuesne's mind, always under perfect

control and now amply reenforced by a considerable proportion of the

stranger's own knowledge and power, did not waver under the force of

even that hypnotic glare.



"It is useless, as you observe," he said coldly, in the stranger's own

tongue, and sneered. "You are perfectly helpless. Unlike you of the

Fenachrone, however, men of my race do not always kill strangers at

sight, merely because they are strangers. I will spare your life, if you

can give me anything of enough value to me to make extra time and

trouble worth while."



"You read my mind while I could not resist your childish efforts. I will

have no traffic whatever with you who have destroyed my vessel. If you

have mentality enough to understand any portion of my mind--which I

doubt--you already know the fate in store for you. Do with me what you

will." This from the stranger.



* * * * *



DuQuesne pondered long before he replied; considering whether it was to

his advantage to inform this stranger of the facts. Finally he decided.



"Sir, neither I nor this vessel had anything to do with the destruction

of your warship. Our detectors discovered you floating in empty space;

we stopped and rescued you from death. We have seen nothing else, save

what we saw pictured in your own brain. I know that, in common with all

of your race, you possess neither conscience nor honor, as we understand

the terms. An automatic liar by instinct and training whenever you think

lies will best serve your purpose, you may yet have intelligence enough

to recognize simple truth when you hear it. You already have observed

that we are of the same race as those who destroyed your vessel, and

have assumed that we are with them. In that you are wrong. It is true

that I am acquainted with those others, but they are my enemies. I am

here to kill them, not to aid them. You have already helped me in one

way--I know as much as does my enemy concerning the impenetrable shield

of force. If I will return you unharmed to your own planet, will you

assist me in stealing one of your ships of space, so that I may destroy

that Earth-vessel?"



The Fenachrone, paying no attention to DuQuesne's barbed comments

concerning his honor and veracity, did not hesitate an instant in his

reply.



"I will not. We supermen of the Fenachrone will allow no vessel of ours,

with its secrets unknown to any others of the Universe, to fall into the

hands of any of the lesser breeds of men."



"Well, you didn't try to lie that time, anyway," said DuQuesne, "but

think a minute. Seaton, my enemy, already has one of your vessels--don't

think he is too much of a fool to put it back together and to learn its

every secret. Then, too, remember that I have your mind, and can get

along without you; even though I am willing to admit that you could be

of enough help to me so that I would save your life in exchange for that

help. Also remember that, superman though you may be, your mentality

cannot cope with the forces I have bearing upon you. Neither will your

being a superman enable your body to retain life after I have pushed you

through yonder door, dressed as you are in a silken tunic."



"I have the normal love of life," was the reply, "but some things cannot

be done, even with life at stake. Stealing a vessel of the Fenachrone is

one of those things. I can, however, do this much--if you will return me

to my own planet, you two shall be received as guests aboard one of our

vessels and shall be allowed to witness the vengeance of the Fenachrone

upon your enemy. Then you shall be returned to your vessel and allowed

to depart unharmed."



"Now you are lying by rote--I know just what you'd do," said DuQuesne.

"Get that idea out of your head right now. The attractors now holding

you will not be released until after you have told all. Then, and then

only, will we try to discover a way of returning you to your own world

safely, and yet in a manner which will in no way jeopardize my own

safety. Incidentally, I warn you that the first sign of an attempt to

play false with me in any way will mean your instant death."



The prisoner remained silent, analyzing every feature of the situation,

and DuQuesne continued, coldly:



"Here's something else for you to think about. If you are unwilling to

help us, what is to prevent me from killing you, and then hunting up

Seaton and making peace with him for the duration of this forthcoming

war? With the fragments of your vessel, which he has; with my knowledge

of your mind, reenforced by your own dead brain; and with the vast

resources of all the planets of the green system; there is no doubt that

the plans of the Fenachrone will be seriously interfered with. Myriads

of your race will certainly lose their lives, and it is quite possible

that your entire race would be destroyed. Understand that I care nothing

for the green system. You are welcome to it if you do as I ask. If you

do not, I shall warn them and help them simply to protect my world,

which is now my own personal property."



"In return for our armament and equipment, you promise not to warn the

green system against us? The death of your enemy takes first place in

your mind?" The stranger spoke thoughtfully. "In that I understand your

viewpoint thoroughly. But, after I have remodeled your power-plant into

ours and have piloted you to our planet, what assurance have I that you

will liberate me, as you have said?"



"None whatever--I have made and am asking no promises, since I cannot

expect you to trust me, any more than I can trust you. Enough of this

argument! I am master here, and I am dictating terms. We can get along

without you. Therefore you must decide quickly whether you would rather

die suddenly and surely, here in space and right now, or help us as I

demand and live until you get back home--enjoying meanwhile your life

and whatever chance you think you may have of being liberated within the

atmosphere of your own planet."



"Just a minute, Chief!" Loring said, in English, his back to the

prisoner. "Wouldn't we gain more by killing him and going back to Seaton

and the green system, as you suggested?"



"No." DuQuesne also turned away, to shield his features from the

mind-reading gaze of the Fenachrone. "That was pure bluff. I don't want

to get within a million miles of Seaton until after we have the armament

of this fellow's ships. I couldn't make peace with Seaton now, even if I

wanted to--and I haven't the slightest intention of trying. I intend

killing him on sight. Here's what we're going to do. First, we'll get

what we came after. Then we'll find the Skylark and blow her clear

out of space, and take over the pieces of that Fenachrone ship. After

that we'll head for the green system, and with their own stuff and what

we'll give them, they'll be able to give those fiends a hot reception.

By the time they finally destroy the Osnomians--if they do--we'll have

the world ready for them." He turned to the Fenachrone. "What is your

decision?"



"I submit, in the hope that you will keep your promise, since there is

no alternative but death," and the awful creature, still loosely held by

the attractors and carefully watched by DuQuesne and Loring, fairly tore

into the task of rebuilding the Osnomian power-plant into the

space-annihilating drive of the Fenachrone--for he well knew one fact

that DuQuesne's hurried inspection had failed to glean from the

labyrinthine intricacies of that fearsome brain: that once within the

detector screens of that distant solar system these Earth-beings would

be utterly helpless before the forces which would inevitably be turned

upon them. Also, he realized that time was precious, and resolved to

drive the Violet so unmercifully that she would overtake that fleeing

torpedo, now many hours upon its way--the torpedo bearing news, for the

first time in Fenachrone history, of the overwhelming defeat and capture

of one of its mighty engines of interstellar war.



In a very short time, considering the complexity of the undertaking, the

conversion of the power-plant was done and the repellers, already

supposed the ultimate in protection, were reenforced by a

ten-thousand-pound mass of activated copper, effective for untold

millions of miles. Their monstrous pilot then set the bar and advanced

both levers of the dual power control out to the extreme limit of their

travel.



There was no sense of motion or of acceleration, since the new system of

propulsion acted upon every molecule of matter within the radius of

activity of the bar, which had been set to include the entire hull. The

passengers felt only the utter lack of all weight and the other peculiar

sensations with which they were already familiar, as each had had

previous experience of free motion in space. But in spite of the lack of

apparent motion, the Violet was now leaping through the unfathomable

depths of interstellar space with the unthinkable speed of five times

the velocity of light!