Nevian Strife

: Triplanetary

The Nevian space-ship was hurtling upon its way. Space-navigators both,

the two Terrestrial officers soon discovered that it was even then

moving with a velocity far above that of light and that it must be

accelerating at a stupendous rate, even though to them it seemed

stationary--they could feel only a gravitational force somewhat less

than that of their native earth.



Bradley, seasoned old campaigner th t he was, had retired promptly as

soon as he had completed a series of observations, and was sleeping

soundly upon a pile of cushions in the first of the three

inter-connecting rooms. In the middle room, which was to be Clio's,

Costigan was standing very close to the girl, but was not touching her.

His body was rigid, his face was tense and drawn.



"You are wrong, Conway; all wrong," Clio was saying, very seriously. "I

know how you feel, but it's false chivalry."



"That isn't it, at all," he insisted, stubbornly. "It isn't only that

I've got you out here in space, in danger and alone, that's stopping me.

I know you and I know myself well enough to know that what we start now

we'll go through with for life. It doesn't make any difference, that

way, whether I start making love to you now or whether I wait until

we're back on Tellus--I've been telling you for half an hour that for

your own good you'd better pass me up entirely. I've got enough

horsepower to keep away from you if you tell me to--not otherwise."



"I know it, both ways, dear, but...."



"But nothing!" he interrupted. "Can't you get it into your skull what

you'll be letting yourself in for if you marry me? Assume that we get

back, which isn't sure, by any means. But even if we do, some day--and

maybe soon, too, you can't tell--somebody is going to collect fifty

grams of radium for my head."



"Fifty grams--and everybody knows that Samms himself is rated at only

sixty? I knew that you were somebody, Conway!" Clio exclaimed,

undeterred. "But at that, something tells me that any pirate will earn

even that much reward several times over before he collects it. Don't be

silly, dear heart--good-night."



She tipped her head back, holding up to him her red, sweetly curved,

smiling lips, and his eager arms, hitherto kept away from her by sheer

force of will, swept around her in almost fierce intensity. As his hot

lips met hers, her arms crept up around his neck and they stood, clasped

together in the motionless ecstasy of love's first embrace.



"Girl, girl, how I love you!" Costigan's voice was husky, his usually

hard eyes were glowing with a tender light. "That settles that. I'll

really live now, anyway, while...."



"Stop it!" she commanded, sharply. "You're going to live until you die

of old age--see if you don't. You'll simply have to, Conway!"



"That's so, too--no percentage in dying now. All the pirates between

Tellus and Andromeda couldn't take me after this--I've got too much to

live for. Well, good-night, sweetheart, I'd better beat it--you need

some sleep."



The lovers' parting was not as simple and straightforward a procedure as

Costigan's speech would indicate, but finally he did seek his own room

and relaxed upon a pile of cushions, his stern visage transformed.

Instead of the low metal ceiling he saw a beautiful, oval, tanned young

face, framed in a golden-blonde corona of hair. His gaze sank into the

depths of loyal, honest, dark-blue eyes; and looking deeper and deeper

into those blue wells he fell asleep. Upon his face, too set and grim by

far for a man of his years--the lives of Sector Chiefs of the T. S. S.

are never easy, nor as a rule are they long--there lingered as he slept

that newly acquired softness of expression, the reflection of his

transcendent happiness.



For eight hours he slept soundly, as was his wont; then, also according

to his habit and training, he came wide awake, with no intermediate

stage of napping.



"Clio?" he whispered. "Awake, girl?"



"Awake!" Her voice came through the ultra-phone, relief in every

syllable. "Good heavens, I thought you were going to sleep until we got

to wherever it is that we're going! Come on in, you two--I don't see how

you can possibly sleep, just as though you were home in bed."



"You've got to learn to sleep anywhere if you expect to keep in...."

Costigan broke off as he opened the door and saw Clio's wan face. She

had evidently spent a sleepless and wracking eight hours. "Good Lord,

Clio, why didn't you call me?"



"Oh, I'm all right, except for being a little jittery. No need of asking

how you feel, is there?"



"No--I feel hungry," he answered cheerfully. "I'm going to see what we

can do about it--or say, guess I'll see whether they're still

interfering on Samms' wave."



He took out a small, insulated case and touched the contact stud lightly

with his fingers. His arm jerked away powerfully.



"Still at it," he gave the necessary explanation. "They don't seem to

want us to talk outside, but his interference is as good as my

talking--they can trace it, of course. Now I'll see what I can find out

about our breakfast."



He stepped over to the plate and shot its projector beam forward into

the control room, where he saw Nerado lying, doglike, at his instrument

panel. As Costigan's beam entered the room a blue light flashed on and

the Nevian turned an eye and an arm toward his own small observation

plate. Knowing that they were now in visual communication, Costigan

beckoned an invitation and pointed to his mouth in what he hoped was the

universal sign of hunger. The Nevian waved an arm and fingered controls,

and as he did so a wide section of the floor of Clio's room slid aside.

The opening thus made revealed a table which rose upon its low pedestal,

a table equipped with three softly cushioned benches and spread with a

glittering array of silver and glassware. Bowls and platters of

dazzlingly white metal, narrow-waisted goblets of sheerest crystal; all

were hexagonal, beautifully and intricately carved or etched in

apparently conventional marine designs. And the table utensils of this

strange race were peculiar indeed. There were tearing forceps of sixteen

needle-sharp curved teeth; there were flexible spatulas; there were deep

and shallow ladles with flexible edges; there were many other peculiarly

curved instruments at whose uses the Terrestrials could no even guess;

all having delicately fashioned handles to fit the long, slender fingers

of the Nevians.



But if the table and its appointments were surprising to the

Terrestrials, revealing as they did a degree of culture which none of

them had expected to find in a race of beings so monstrous, the food was

even more surprising, although in another sense. For the wonderful

crystal goblets were filled with a grayish-green slime of a nauseous and

overpowering odor, the smaller bowls were full of living sea spiders and

other such delicacies; and each large platter contained a fish fully a

foot long, raw and whole, garnished tastefully with red, purple, and

green strands of seaweed!



Clio looked once, then gasped, shutting her eyes and turning away from

the table, but Costigan flipped the three fish into a platter and set it

aside before he turned back to the visiplate.



"They'll go good fried," he remarked to Bradley, signaling vigorously to

Nerado that the meal was not acceptable and that he wanted to talk to

him, in person. Finally he made himself clear, the table sank down out

of sight, and the Nevian commander cautiously entered the room.



At Costigan's insistence, he came up to the plate, leaving near the door

three guards armed with projectors in instant readiness. The operative

then shot the beam into the galley of the pirate's lifeboat, suggesting

that they should be allowed to live there. For some time the argument of

arms and fingers raged--though not exactly a fluent conversation, both

sides managed to convey their meanings quite clearly. Nerado would not

allow the Terrestrials to visit their own ship--he was taking no

chances--but after a thorough ultra-ray inspection he did finally order

some of his men to bring into the middle room the electric range and a

supply of Terrestrial food. Soon the Nevian fish were sizzling in a pan

and the appetizing odors of coffee and of browning biscuit permeated the

room. But at the first appearance of those odors the Nevians departed

hastily, content to watch the remainder of the curious and repulsive

procedure in their visiray plates.



Breakfast over and everything made tidy and shipshape, Costigan turned

to Clio.



"Look here, girl; you've got to learn how to sleep. You're all in. Your

eyes look like you'd been on a Martian picnic and you didn't eat half

enough breakfast. You've got to sleep and eat to keep fit. We don't want

you passing out on us, so I'll put out this light, and you'll lie down

here and sleep until noon."



"Oh, no; don't bother. I'll sleep to-night. I'm quite...."



"You'll sleep now," he informed her, levelly. "I never thought of you

being nervous, with Bradley and me on each side of you. We're both right

here now, though, and we'll stay here. We'll watch over you like a

couple of old hens with one chick between them. Come on; lie down and go

bye-bye."



Clio laughed at the simile, but lay down obediently. Costigan sat upon

the edge of the great divan, holding her hand, and they chatted idly.

The silences grew longer, Clio's remarks became fewer, and soon her

long-lashed lids fell and her deep, regular breathing showed that she

was sound asleep. The man stared at her, his very heart in his eyes. So

young, so beautiful, so lovely--and how he did love her! He was not

formally religious, but his every thought was a sincere prayer. If he

could only get her out of this mess ... he wasn't fit to live on the

same planet with her, but ... just give him one chance, just one!



But Costigan had been laboring for days under a terrific strain, and had

been going very short on sleep. Half hypnotized by his own mixed

emotions and by his staring at the smooth curves of Clio's cheek, his

own eyes closed and, still holding her hand, he sank down into the soft

cushions beside her and into oblivion.



Thus sleeping hand-in-hand like two children Bradley found them, and a

tender, fatherly expression came over his face as he looked down at

them.



"Nice little girl, Clio," he mused, "and when they made Costigan they

broke the mould. They'll do--about as fine a couple of kids as old

Tellus ever produced. I could do with some more sleep myself." He yawned

prodigiously, lay down at Clio's left, and almost instantly was himself

asleep.



Hours later, both men were awakened by a merry peal of laughter. Clio

was sitting up, regarding them with sparkling eyes. She was refreshed,

buoyant, ravenously hungry and highly amused. Costigan was amazed and

annoyed at what he considered a failure in a self-appointed task;

Bradley was calm and matter-of-fact.



"Thanks for being such a nice bodyguard, you two," Clio laughed again,

but sobered quickly. "I slept wonderfully well, but I wonder if I can

sleep to-night without making you hold my hand all night?"



"Oh, he doesn't mind doing that," Bradley commented.



"Mind it!" Costigan exclaimed, and his eyes and his tone spoke volumes

that his tongue left unsaid.



They prepared and ate another meal, one to which Clio did full justice;

and, rested and refreshed, had begun to discuss possibilities of escape

when Nerado and his three armed guards entered the room. The Nevian

scientist placed a box upon a table and began to make adjustments upon

its panels, eyeing the Terrestrials attentively after each setting.

After a time a staccato burst of articulate speech issued from the box,

and Costigan saw a great light.



"You've got it--hold it!" he exclaimed, waving his arms excitedly. "You

see, Clio, their voices are pitched either higher or lower than

ours--probably higher--and they've built an audio-frequency changer.

He's nobody's fool, that fish!"



Nerado heard Costigan's voice; there was no doubt of that. His long neck

looped and angled in Nevian gratification, and, although neither side

could understand the other, both knew that intelligent speech and

hearing were attributes common to the two races. This fact altered

markedly the relations between captors and captives. The Nevians

admitted among themselves that the strange bipeds might be quite

intelligent, after all; and the Terrestrials at once became more

hopeful.



"It isn't so bad, if they can talk," Costigan summed up the situation.

"We might as well take it easy and make the best of it, particularly

since we haven't been able to figure out any possible way of getting

away from them. They can talk and hear, and we can learn their language

in time. Maybe we can make some kind of a deal with them to take us back

to our own system, if we can't make a break."



The Nevians being as eager as the Terrestrials to establish

communication, Nerado kept the newly devised frequency-changer in

constant use. There is no need of describing at length the details of

that interchange of languages. Suffice it to say that starting at the

very bottom they learned as babies learn, but with the great advantage

over babies of possessing fully developed and capable brains. And while

the human beings were learning the tongue of Nevia, several of the

amphibians (and incidentally Clio Marsden) were learning Triplanetarian;

the two officers knowing well that it would be much easier for the

Nevians to learn the logically-built common language of the Three

Planets than to master the senseless intricacies of English.



In a few weeks the two parties were able to understand each other after

a fashion, by using a weird mixture of both languages. As soon as a few

ideas had been exchanged, the Nevian scientists built transformers small

enough to be worn collar-like by the Terrestrials, and the captives were

allowed to roam at will throughout the great vessel; only the

compartment in which was stored the dismembered pirate lifeboats being

sealed to them. Thus it was that they were not left long in doubt, when

another fish-shaped cruiser of the world was revealed upon their lookout

plates in the awful emptiness of interstellar space.



"That is our sister-ship, going to your Solarian system for a cargo of

the iron which is so plentiful there," Nerado explained to his

involuntary guests.



"I hope the gang has got the bugs worked out of our super-ship,"

Costigan muttered savagely to his companions as Nerado turned away. "If

they have, that outfit will get something more than a load of iron when

they get there!"



More weeks passed; weeks during which a blue-white star separated itself

from the infinitely distant firmament and began to show a perceptible

disk. Larger and larger it grew, becoming bluer and bluer as the flying

space-ship approached it, until finally Nevia could be seen, apparently

close beside her parent orb.



Heavily laden though the vessel was, such was her power that she was

soon dropping vertically toward a large lagoon in the middle of the

Nevian city. That bit of open water was strangely devoid of life, for

this was to be no ordinary landing. Under the terrific power of the

beams braking the descent of that unimaginable load of allotropic iron

the water seethed and boiled; and instead of floating gracefully upon

the surface of the sea, this time the huge ship of space sank like a

plummet to the bottom. Having accomplished this delicate feat of docking

the vessel safely in the immense cradle prepared for her, Nerado turned

to the Terrestrials, who, now under guard, had been brought before him.



"While our cargo of iron is being discharged, I am to take you three

Tellurians to the College of Science, where you are to undergo a

thorough physical and psychological examination. Follow me."



"Wait a minute!" protested Costigan, with a quick and furtive wink at

his companions. "Do you expect us to go through water, and at this

frightful depth?"



"Certainly," replied the Nevian, in surprise. "You are air-breathers, of

course, but you must be able to swim a little, and this slight

depth--but little more than thirty of your meters--will not trouble

you."



"You are wrong, twice," declared the Terrestrial, convincingly. "If by

'swimming' you mean propelling yourself in or through the water, we know

nothing of it. In water over our heads we drown helplessly in a minute

or two, and the pressure at this depth would kill us instantly."



"Well, I could take a lifeboat, of course, but that...." The Nevian

Captain began, doubtfully, but broke off at the sound of a staccato call

from his signal panel.



"Captain Nerado, attention!"



"Nerado," he acknowledged into a microphone.



"The Third City is being attacked by the fishes of the greater deeps.

They have developed new and powerful mobile fortresses mounting

unheard-of weapons and the city reports that it cannot long withstand

their attack. The inhabitants are asking for all possible help. Your

vessel not only has vast stores of iron, but also mounts weapons of

power. You are requested to proceed to their aid at the earliest

possible moment."



Nerado snapped out orders and the liquid iron fell in streams from

wide-open ports, forming a vast, red pool in the bottom of the dock. In

a short time the great vessel was in equilibrium with the water she

displaced, and as soon as she had attained a slight buoyancy the ports

snapped shut and Nerado threw on the power.



"Go back to your own quarters and stay there until I send for you," the

Nevian directed, and as the Terrestrials obeyed the curt orders the

fish-shaped cruiser of space tore herself from the water and flashed up

into the crimson sky.



"What a barefaced liar!" Bradley exclaimed. The three, transformers cut

off, were back in the middle room of their suite. "You can outswim an

otter, and I happen to know that you came up out of the old DZ83 from a

depth of...."



"Maybe I did exaggerate a trifle," Costigan interrupted him, "but the

more helpless he thinks we are the better for us. And we want to stay

out of any of their cities as long as we can, because they may be hard

places to escape from. I've got a couple of ideas, but they aren't ripe

enough to pick yet.... Wow! how this bird's been traveling! We're there

already! If he hits the water going like this, he'll split himself,

sure!"



With undiminished velocity they were flashing downward in a long slant

toward the beleaguered Third City, and from the flying vessel there was

launched toward the city's central lagoon a torpedo. No missile this,

but a capsule containing a full ton of allotropic iron, which would be

of more use to the Nevian defenders than millions of men. For the Third

City was sore pressed indeed. Around it was one unbroken ring of

boiling, exploding water--water billowing upward with searing, blinding

bursts of superheated steam, or being hurled bodily in all directions in

solid masses by the cataclysmic forces being released by the embattled

fishes of the greater deeps. Her outer defenses were already down, and

even as the Terrestrials stared in amazement another of the immense

hexagonal buildings burst into fragments; its upper structure flying

wildly into scrap metal, its lower half subsiding drunkenly below the

surface of the boiling sea.



The three Terrestrials involuntarily seized whatever supports were at

hand as the Nevian space-ship struck the water with undiminished speed,

but the precaution was needless--Nerado knew thoroughly his vessel, its

strength and its capabilities. There was a mighty splash, but that was

all. The artificial gravity was unchanged by the impact; to the

passengers the vessel was still motionless and on even keel as, now a

submarine, she snapped around like a very fish and attacked the rear of

the nearest fortress.



For fortresses they were; vast structures of green metal, plowing

forward implacably upon immense caterpillar treads. And as they crawled

they destroyed, and Costigan, exploring the strange submarine with his

visiray beam, watched and marveled. For the fortresses were full of

water; water artificially cooled and aerated, entirely separate from the

boiling flood through which they moved. They were manned by fish some

five feet in length. Fish with huge, goggling eyes; fish plentifully

equipped with long, armlike tentacles; fish poised before control panels

or darting about intent upon their various duties. Fish with intelligent

brains, waging desperate war upon a hated foe!



Nor was their warfare ineffectual. Their heat-rays boiled the water for

hundreds of yards before them and their torpedoes were exploding against

the Nevian defenses in one appallingly continuous concussion. But most

potent of all was a weapon unknown to Triplanetary warfare. From a

fortress there would shoot out, with the speed of a meteor, a long,

jointed, telescopic rod, tipped with a tiny, brilliantly shining ball.

Whenever this glowing tip encountered any obstacle, that obstacle

disappeared in an explosion world-wracking in its intensity. Then what

was left of the rod, dark now, would be retracted into the

fortress--only to emerge again in a moment with a tip once more shining

and potent.



Nerado, apparently as unfamiliar with the peculiar weapon as were the

Terrestrials, attacked cautiously; sending out far to the fore his

murkily impenetrable screens of red. But the submarine was entirely

non-ferrous, and its officers were apparently quite familiar with the

Nevian beams which licked at and clung to the green walls in impotent

fury. Through the red veil came stabbing tiny ball after brilliant ball,

and only the most frantic dodging saved the space-ship from destruction

in those first few furious seconds. And now the Nevian defenders of the

Third City had secured and were employing the vast store of allotropic

iron so opportunely delivered by Nerado.



From the city there pushed out immense nets of metal, extending from the

surface of the ocean to its bottom; nets radiating such terrific forces

that the very water itself was beaten back and stood motionless in

vertical, glassy walls. Torpedoes were futile against that wall of

energy. The most fiercely driven rays of the fishes flamed incandescent

against it, in vain. Even the incredible violence of a concentration of

every available force-ball against one point could not break through. At

that unimaginable explosion water was hurled for miles. The bed of the

ocean was not only exposed, but in it there was blown a crater at whose

dimensions the Terrestrials dared not even guess. The crawling

fortresses themselves were thrown backward violently and the very world

was rocked to its core by the concussion, but that iron-driven wall

held. The massive nets swayed and gave back, and tidal waves hurled

their mountainously destructive masses through the Third City, but the

mighty barrier remained intact. And Nerado, still attacking two of the

powerful tanks with his every weapon, was still dodging those flashing

balls charged with the quintessence of destruction. The fishes could not

see through the sub-ethereal veil, but all the rod-gunners of the two

fortresses were combing it thoroughly with ever-lengthening,

ever-thrusting rods, in a desperate attempt to wipe out the new and

apparently all-powerful Nevian submarine, whose sheer power was slowly

but inexorably crushing even their gigantic walls.



"Well, I think that right now's the best chance we'll ever have of doing

something for ourselves." Costigan turned away from the absorbing scenes

pictured upon the visiplate and faced his two companions.



"But what can we possibly do?" asked Clio, and



"Whatever it is, we'll try it!" Bradley exclaimed.



"Anything's better than staying here and letting them analyze us--no

telling what they'd do to us," Costigan went on. "I know a lot more

about things than they think I do. They never did catch me using my

spy-ray--it's on an awfully narrow beam, you know, and uses almost no

power at all--so I've been able to dope out quite a lot of stuff. I can

open most of their locks, and I know how to run their small boats. This

battle, fantastic as it is, is deadly stuff, and it isn't one-sided, by

any means, either, so that every one of them, from Nerado down, seems to

be on emergency duty. There are no guards watching us, or stationed

where we want to go--our way out is open. And once out, this battle is

giving us our best possible chance to get away from them. There's so

much emission out there already that they probably couldn't detect the

driving rays of the lifeboat, and they'll be too busy to chase us,

anyway."



"Once out, then what?" asked Bradley, eagerly.



"We'll have to decide that before we start, of course. I'd say make a

break back for our own Solarian system. We know the direction, from our

own observation, and we'll have plenty of power."



"But good Heavens, Conway, it's so far!" exclaimed Clio. "How about

food, water, and air--would we ever get there?"



"You know as much about that as I do. I think so, but of course anything

might happen. This ship is none too big, is considerable slower than the

big space-ship, and we're a long ways from home. Another bad thing is

the food question. The boat is well stocked according to Nevian ideas,

but it's pretty foul stuff for us to eat. However, it's nourishing, and

we'll have to eat it, since we can't carry enough of our own supplies to

the boat to last long. Even so, we may have to go on short rations, but

I think that we'll be able to make it. On the other hand, what happens

if we stay here? We will certainly strike trouble sooner or later, and

we don't know any too much about these ultra-weapons. We are

land-dwellers, and there is mighty little land on this planet. Then,

too, we don't know where to look for what little land there is, and,

even if we could find it, we know that it is all over-run with

amphibians already. There's a lot of things that might be better, but

they might be a lot worse, too. How about it? Do we try it or do we stay

here?"



"We try it!" exclaimed Clio and Bradley as one.



"All right. I'd better not waste any more time talking--let's go!"



Stepping up to the locked and shielded door, he took out a peculiarly

built torch and pointed it briefly at the Nevian lock. There was no

light, no noise, but the massive portal swung smoothly open. They

stepped out and Costigan relocked and reshielded the entrance.



"How ... what ...?" Clio demanded, almost stuttering in her surprise.



"I've been going to school for the last few weeks," Costigan grinned,

"and I've picked up quite a few things here and there--literally as well

as figuratively speaking. Snap it up, guys! Our armor is stored away

with the pieces of the pirates' lifeboat, and I'll feel a lot better

when we've got it on and have hold of a few fresh Lewistons."



They hurried down corridors, up ramps, and along hallways, with

Costigan's spy-ray investigating the course ahead for chance Nevians.

Bradley and Clio were unarmed, but the secret agent had found a piece of

flat metal and had ground it to a razor edge.



"I think I can throw this thing straight enough and fast enough to chop

off a Nevian's head before he can put a paralyzing ray on us," he

explained grimly, but he was not called upon to show his skill with the

improvised cleaver.



As he had concluded from his careful survey, every Nevian was at some

control or weapon, doing his part in that frightful combat with the

denizens of the greater deeps. Their part was open, they were neither

molested nor detected as they ran toward the compartment within which

was sealed all their Terrestrial belongings. The door of that room

opened, as had the other, to Costigan's knowing beam; and all three set

hastily to work. They made up packs of food, filled their capacious

pockets with emergency rations, recharged and buckled on Lewistons and

automatics, donned their armor, and clamped into their external holsters

a full complement of additional weapons.



"Now comes the ticklish part of the business," Costigan informed them.

His helmet was slowly turning this way and that, and the others knew

that through his spy-ray goggles he was studying their route. "There's

only one boat we stand a chance of reaching, and somebody's mighty apt

to see us. There's a lot of detectors up there, and we'll have to cross

a corridor full of communicator beams. There, that line's off ...

scoot!"



At his word they dashed out into the hall and hurried along for minutes,

dodging to right or left as the leader snapped out orders. Finally he

stopped.



"Here's those beams I told you about. We'll have to roll under 'em.

They're less than waist high--right there's the lowest one. Watch me do

it, and when I give you the word, one at a time, you do the same. Keep

low--don't let an arm or a leg get up into the path of a ray or they

may see us."



He threw himself flat, rolled upon the floor a yard or so, and scrambled

to his feet. He gazed intently at the blank wall for a space, then:



"Bradley--now!" he snapped, and the Interplanetary captain duplicated

his performance.



But Clio, unused to the heavy and cumbersome space-armor she was

wearing, could not roll in it with any degree of success. When Costigan

barked his order she tried, but stopped, floundering, almost directly

below the invisible network of communicator beams. As she struggled one

mailed arm went up, and Costigan saw in his ultra-goggles the faint

flash as the beam encountered the interfering field. But already he had

acted. Crouching low, he struck down the arm, seized it, and dragged the

girl out of the zone of visibility. Then in furious haste he opened a

nearby door and all three sprang into a tiny compartment.



"Shut off all the fields of your suits, so that they can't interfere!"

he hissed into the utter darkness. "Not that I'd mind killing a few of

them, but if they start an organized search we're sunk. But even if they

did get a warning by touching your glove, Clio, they probably won't

suspect us. Our rooms are still shielded, and the chances are that

they're too busy to bother much about us, anyway."



He was right. A few beams darted here and there, but the Nevians saw

nothing amiss and ascribed the interference to the falling into the beam

of some chance bit of charged metal. With no further misadventures the

Terrestrials gained entrance to the Nevian lifeboat, where Costigan's

first act was to disconnect one steel boot from his armor of space. With

a sigh of relief he pulled his foot out of it, and from it carefully

poured into the small power-tank of the craft fully thirty pounds of

allotropic iron!



"I pinched it off them," he explained, in answer to amazed and inquiring

looks, "and maybe you don't think it's a relief to get it out of that

boot! I couldn't steal a flask to carry it in, so this was the only

place I could put it in. These lifeboats are equipped with only a couple

of grams of iron apiece, you know, and we couldn't get half-way back to

Tellus on that, even with smooth going; and we may have to fight. With

this much to go on, though, we could go to Andromeda, fighting all the

way. Well, we'd better break away."



Costigan watched his plate closely, and, when the maneuvering of the

great vessel brought his exit port as far away as possible from the

Third City and the warring citadels of the deep, he shot the little

cruiser out and away. Straight out into the ocean it sped, through the

murky red veil, and darted upward toward the surface. The three

wanderers sat tense, hardly daring to breathe, staring into the

plates--Clio and Bradley pushing at metal levers and stepping down hard

upon metal brakes in unconscious efforts to help Costigan dodge the

beams and rods of death flashing so appallingly close upon all sides.

Out of the water and into the air the darting, dodging lifeboat flashed

in safety; but in the air, supposedly free from menace, came disaster.

There was a crunching, grating shock and the vessel was thrown into a

dizzy spiral, from which Costigan finally leveled it into headlong

flight away from the scene of battle. Watching the pyrometers which

recorded the temperature of the outer shell, he drove the lifeboat ahead

at the highest safe atmospheric speed while Bradley went to inspect the

damage.



"Pretty bad, but better than I thought," the captain reported. "Outer

and inner plates broken away on a seam. Inter-wall vacuum all lost, and

we wouldn't hold carpet-rags, let alone air. Any tools aboard?"



"Some--and what we haven't got we'll make," Costigan declared. "We'll

put a lot of distance behind us, then we'll fix her up and get away from

here."



"What are those fish, anyway, Conway?" Clio asked, as the lifeboat tore

along. "The Nevians are bad enough, Heaven knows, but the very idea of

intelligent and educated FISH is enough to drive one mad!"



"You know Nerado mentioned several times the 'semi-civilized fishes of

the greater deeps'?" he reminded her. "I gather that there are at least

three intelligent races here. We know two--the Nevians, who are

amphibians, and the fishes of the greater deeps. The fishes of the

lesser deeps are also intelligent. As I get it, the Nevian cities were

originally built in very shallow water, or perhaps were upon islands.

The development of machinery and tools gave them a big edge on the fish;

and those living in the shallow seas, nearest the islands, gradually

became tributary nations, if not actually slaves. Those fish not only

serve as food, but work in the mines, hatcheries, and plantations, and

do all kinds of work for the Nevians. Those so-called 'lesser deeps'

were conquered first, of course, and all their races of fish are docile

enough now. But the deep-sea breeds, who live in water so deep that the

Nevians can hardly stand the pressure down there, were more intelligent

to start with, and more stubborn besides. But the most valuable metals

here are deep down--this planet is very light for its size, you know--so

the Nevians kept at it until they conquered some of the deep-sea fish,

too, and put 'em to work. But those high-pressure boys were nobody's

fools. They realized that as time went on the amphibians would get

further and further ahead of them in development, so they let themselves

be conquered, learned how to use the Nevians' tools and everything else

they could get hold of, developed a lot of new stuff of their own, and

now they're out to wipe the amphibians off the slate completely, before

they get too far ahead of them to handle."



"And the Nevians are afraid of them, and want to kill them all, as fast

as they possibly can," guessed Clio.



"That would be the logical thing, of course," commented Bradley. "Got

pretty nearly enough distance now, Costigan?"



"There isn't enough distance on the planet to suit me," Costigan

replied. "We'll need all we can get. A full diameter away from that crew

of amphibians is too close for comfort--their detectors are keen."



"Then they can detect us?" Clio asked. "Oh, I wish they hadn't hit

us--we'd have been away from here long ago."



"So do I," Costigan assented, feelingly. "But they did--no use

squawking. We can rivet and weld those seams and pump out the shell, and

we'd have to fill our air-tanks to capacity for the trip, anyway. And

things could be a lot worse--we are still breathing air!"



In silence the lifeboat flashed onward, and half of Nevia's mighty globe

was traversed before it was brought to a halt, in the emptiest reaches

of the planet's desolate and watery waste. Then in furious haste the two

officers set to work, again to make their small craft sound and

spaceworthy.