Part 4

"I wonder why they didn't think of that square-wave idea," said Edith.

"Lord only knows."

"That's what bothers me," she said.

"Why?"

"Because we are playing with the other man's cards, remember. We're not leading authorities in this art. You got both the square-wave generator and the monopolar field out of them. Now why hadn't they tried it before?"

"On the theory that no beginner ever has a valid idea? No soap. Maybe they've been too close to the woods to see anything but them trees. Of course, there's another little angle we've not considered."

"Go on. First it was a political difference between factions for and against subjugation. Then I came in and threw in my two cents which sort of hardened the argument a bit. We didn't know whether my stuff was shoved in to stop production or to save Sol. We know now that your informant was telling the truth but not the whole truth. We know that mine was honest but not why he was. Then we came to the possibility that someone somewhere tossed us a fish because they were afraid to try it. Why the stopper on that?"

"Possibly they want us to really try it out and not total destruction."

"But--?"

"Look, Edith. Supposing you wanted to have something developed for you by a consulting laboratory. You've done that yourself at Solar Labs. Wouldn't you give them whatever information you had available?"

She nodded. "Nice explanation," she said solemnly. "Excepting that if I were doing it, I'd not call one man and start him experimenting on one pretext and then call another member of the laboratory and tell him that the information would lead to disaster."

"In other words, the big problem is motive."

"Precisely. And that's what we're up against. Try to figure out the hidden motives of extrasolar cultures."

"You believe there are two?"

Tom Barden nodded. "Uh-huh," he said. "And all the talking we can do from now until we find out won't help because we cannot interpret the thoughts of an alien culture in our own terms and hope to come out right!"

* * * * *

And that, of course, was that. It was definitely true. Reviewing all the evidence during the next ten days, they came up with a startlingly minute amount of fact. Barden had been given a scientific field because of a political argument; Edith Ward had been warned that the information was incomplete and would lead to disaster.

Build upon those slender bricks and they tumble all too quickly. Barden's story could be construed as an attempt to get consulting service on a dangerous project without danger to the alien race. Ward's informant might have been an attempt to give Sol a good chance to solve it in safety, but in solution there would be no proof--or even in failure. For there was no way of telling proof from failure at many light-years of distance unless the failure bloomed the entire system into a nova.

And regardless of any theoretical argument, it was still a technical impossibility to construct any spaceship capable of traversing light-years without some means of super speed. Not without a suitable crew to do a job when it arrived.

Then, to reverse the argument, supposing that Barden's tale was correct. The opposing faction might hope to forestall any work by issuing the warning.

But if Barden's tale were correct, why did the so-called altruists offer him a science that was dangerous to pursue?

Unless, perhaps, the political argument was conquest versus dominance. Both factions wanted conquest and dominance. One demanded the elimination of all races that might offer trouble. The other faction might argue that a completely dead enemy offers no real reward for conquest--for of what use is it to become king when the throne is safe only when all subjects are dead?

Yes, there's Paranoia. The paranoid will either become king of all or king of none--or none will remain to be king including himself. That theory is quite hard on rational people.

So went the arguments, and when the ten days were completed, they were no closer to the truth than they had been before.

Not entirely true, that. For they hoped to drive--somewhere--at a velocity higher than the speed of light.

* * * * *

With a firm hand, Tom Barden pressed the Start button. The relays clicked and the pilot lights flared red, and then after the warm-up period they turned green.

"This is it," he said, grasping the small lever that would start the automatic sequence.

Silence--almost silence came. From one corner came a small muttering and the click of beads. A throat was cleared unnecessarily, for it, like all others, was both dry and clear. A foot shuffled nervously--

"No!" shouted a voice.

Barden looked at Edith Ward. "Still--?" he said.

She nodded and put her hand over his on the lever. "Want me to prove it?" she said, pushing it home.

There was a tinnily musical note that crept up the scale from somewhere in the sub-audible, up through the audible scale and into the shrilling tones that hurt the ear. It was hard to really tell when it passed above the audible, for the imagination followed it for seconds after the ear ceased to function.

There was a creak that rang throughout the ship. A tiny cricket-voice that came once and changed nothing but to increase the feel of tenseness.

Then--nothing pertinent.

Except--

"Great Scott! Look at Sol!"

The already-tiny sun was dwindling visibly; it took less than three or four seconds for Sol's disk to diminish from visible to complete ambiguity against the curtain of the stars.

"We're in!" exploded Barden.

"Hey!" screamed a watcher at the side port. A flare whisked by, illuminating the scene like a photo-flash bulb. A second sun, passed at planetary distance. It joined the starry background behind.

Barden shut off the drive and the tense feeling stopped.

"Well, we're in!" he said in elation. "We're in!"

The scanning room went wild. They gave voice to their feelings in a yell of sheer exuberance and then started pounding one another on the back. Barden chinned himself on a cross-brace and then grabbed Edith Ward about the waist and danced her in a whirling step across the floor. The crew caught up with them; separating them. They piled into Barden, ruffling his hair and rough-housing him until he went off his feet, after which someone produced a blanket and tossed him until the blanket ripped across. Then they carried him to the desk and set him unceremoniously across it, face down, and left him there to catch his breath.

"Like New Year's Eve," he grunted.

The crowd opened to let Edith through. She came toward the desk as Tom unraveled himself and sat on the top. "A fine bunch of wolves," she chuckled gleefully. "Tom, have you ever been kissed by twenty-two men?"

"Wouldn't care for it," he said. "They're not my type. And besides, it's twenty-three." He made the correction himself.

Then things calmed down. They were--as one man put it--"a long way from home!"

"But what I want to know is why we can see the sun when we're going away from it at several times the velocity of light?" demanded Tom.

"Well, your own problem answers your own question," said Edith, patting her hair back into place. "Remember the square-wave problem? Well, in the transition-period, you are simultaneously obtaining all degrees from maximum negative to maximum positive including zero. Zero is where the ship, being out of space-warp, must drop below the speed of light. The sun receding is due to the persistence of vision that lasts between transition periods. Lord only knows how far we travel between each transition."

"We can find out," said Tom. "I'd hoped to develop a velocimeter by using the doppler effect, but that's not possible, I guess. I'd suggest that we find out where we are and then head back for Sol. Might as well get for home and start the real thing cooking."

"What was that sun we passed?"

"I'll not tell you now," said Tom. "One of the nearby stars but I don't know which. We might stop, though, and take a closer look at an alien star from close up."

* * * * *

The ship was turned and the drive was applied until the star expanded into a true sun. At about a billion miles, they stopped to inspect it sketchily. They were not equipped to make any careful observations of stellar data.

They watched it like sightseers viewing Niagara Falls for an hour. There was really nothing to see that could not be taken in at a glance, but the idea of being near to one of the extrasolar systems was gratifying in itself.

Then, as the realization that they could watch that silently blazing star for years without producing anything of interest or value, Barden called a halt to the self-hypnosis and they resumed their stations. The drive was applied again, and they passed the star, picking up speed as they went.

Somewhere ahead was Sol, lost in the starry curtain of the sky. But they were not lost, for they were headed in roughly the right direction and eventually Sol would emerge and stand out before them in plenty of time to correct their course.

The entire group, their period of strain over, stood idly looking out of the ports. There was nothing to see save that star, passing into the background. But their work was finished and they were loafing. It looked like an excellent time to just stand and do nothing. Barden was inspecting the superdrive unit with a paternal smile, noting with some gratification that it was even smaller than the normal driving gear of the ship. Dr. Edith Ward had gone to her room to repair the damage done during the celebration. Jerry Brandt, the manual pilot, was sitting idly, playing a senseless game with the myriad of switches on his disconnected board as the autopilot controlled the ship.

Two of the crew were matching pennies in front of the meter panel, and three more were watching a chess game between two of the others who were using various-shaped radio tubes as men. All was set for a quiet journey home.

Their first alien sun dwindled and was soon lost. Before them, the stars were immobile until one at near center swelled visibly. Jerry Brandt idly kicked his switches into neutral and switched over to manual drive long enough to correct the course; the swelling star and the rest of the sky swiveled about the ship until Sol was on the cross-hairs.

This time there were no days of flight from Terra to beyond-Pluto. Their ship plunged sunward at a dangerous pace, dropping below the speed of light at the tick of an instant at about the orbit of Jupiter. At under the speed of light but far above the normal speeds of spacecraft, the ship headed Terraward, and slowed as it went. The superdrive was turned off a few thousand miles above Terra and the rest of the voyage to the surface of the planet took actually longer than the quick run across interstellar space.

They landed in the huge construction yard at the Barden Laboratories.

A success--

"Yeah," said Tom Barden dryly. "A success. But who did what to whom and why?"

Edith Ward nodded in puzzlement. "You don't suppose it was just some nearby star wanting to observe a nova at close proximity?"

"Seems to me that wouldn't tell 'em anything," said Barden. "That would be a completely artificial nova and lacking of true data. Of course, I'm no astronomer and don't know beans about the subject at all. I admit it. I'd be lost trying to find my way home from out there if I couldn't retrace my steps. I wouldn't recognize Sol from Sirius if I were on Arcturus, and I'd not know how to go about it."

"Spectral lines, and stellar data--" said Edith.

"I have a hunch that whoever--in fact I'm certain--gave me this information was uncertain as to whether I was in the next stellar system or halfway across the universe."

"That would depend upon the range of whatever gadget they used to implant the information--and whether it were beamed. Also, Tom, there's another interesting item. You say there was a mental conversation in your case. That means that the velocity of propagation of that medium is instantaneous! Either that or he was right here on Terra."

"Got me. But if he were right here, why didn't he meet me in person, or make a future date?"

"I pass," said Edith. "I have a fair working knowledge of astrogation. I wonder if it is complete enough for my fellow to have positioned us. On the other hand, mine came strictly as information without chitchat. Like someone handing me a telegram full of data."

Barden considered the problem a moment as the girl went on.

"But my knowledge of astrogation is merely the angular constants of the Marker-Stars and how to recognize them from their constellation-positions. He might be able to set up a model of this hunk of sky and reach the right answer--only if he sought the information, however. I did not give it, and he seemed uninterested--as I say, it was like getting a phonograph record or a radiogram."

They entered Barden's office and as they did, Tim Evans came running in. Barden nodded and said: "Miss Ward, this is Tim Evans, my head mathematical physicist. Tim, this is Dr. Ward."

They acknowledged the introduction, but Tim was excited. "Look, Tom, did it work?"

"We had trouble on Ship One but we fudged Two up and made it sing like an angel." Barden explained sketchily.

"Oh," said Evans, his face falling slightly.

"Why?"

"Because I've been thinking along another line and I've come up with another kind of superdrive. If yours didn't work, this one is certain."

"Yes? Go on."

"No need to," said Evans. "Yours is far more efficient and less bulky. Mine would get you there but it would take up a lot of extra space. Besides, it doesn't offer the chance to see where you're going directly, but only through a new type of celestial globe. Furthermore, it wouldn't move as fast. So, forget it."

"New type of celestial globe?" asked Barden. "We could use it, maybe. We can see out all right, but that's due to the intermittence. The present celestial globe system is an adaptation of the pulse-ranging transmission-time presentation, you know. When you're running above light the globe is useless."

"But look, Tom," objected Edith. "You won't need one at superspeed. You'll not be maneuvering, and if you hit something a few million miles ahead in the globe, you're past it before anything could work anyway."

"Admitted," he said. "But I'd like to have one, anyway. Look, Evans, how does this thing work?"

"On a magneto-gravitic principle. Gravity, I am beginning to understand, is not a matter of wave propagation at all. It is a factor of matter--and it is either there or it isn't."

"I wouldn't know."

"Well, that's the theory. So we utilize an artificial manifestation of gravity, beamed. It also seems that gravitational effects are mutual. In other words, the attraction between Terra and Sol is the combination of mutual attractions. So our beam, increasing the attraction between the object and the beam also causes the increase of the attraction between the beam and the object. For beam read transmitter; I always think of the radiating element as being the beam instead of what I should. Anyway, when the attraction is increased, it affects a detector in the radiating elements. That gives you your indication."

"How about ranging."

"Still a matter of the inverse-square of the distance. We know accurately the attraction-factor of our beam. Whatever reflects will have distance-diminishment which we can measure and use."

"But it is also proportional to the mass, isn't it?" asked Barden.

"It'll take a nice bunch of circuits," grinned Evans, "but we can check the mass with another beam's attraction to it and differentiate. An integrating system will solve for range on the basis of mass and distance. The celestial search and presentation systems will be the same."

"O.K.--how about communications?"

"Sure," said Evans.

"You rig 'em up," said Barden. "And Tim, tell Eddie to refurbish the ship. We're going out again. And I want three or four of the original space drives put aboard as working spares."

"Working spares?" asked Evans.

"Yeah, mount 'em on girder-frameworks complete with atomic units. I'm going to prove the next point."

"What next point?" asked Dr. Edith Ward.

"I want to find out if your informant was telling the truth," said Tom Barden. "Interested?"

* * * * *

Edith shuddered a little. "That's a big responsibility," she said. "You intend to destroy a whole stellar system?"

"I don't know. I'm going to see whether that stuff would actually start an overall sustaining fission-reaction in a planet after the minor fission got under way. If it does, then it is no worse for me to blow up a dead system than it would be for my little informant getting us to blow up ours."

"You sound rather positive about it."

"One or the other," said Barden. "I'm bothered. No matter how you look at it, we ... or I, was like a small child given matches to play with in a nitrocellulose storehouse. Unless you'd come up with yours, I'd have most certainly blown us sky high."

"Right. I think we owe my friends a debt of gratitude."

"I'll agree to that. But for this test, we'll ramble until we find a relatively unimportant star with only one or two planets, devoid of life. Then we'll try it."

"But even with dead system, you're taking a lot upon yourself."

"How?"

"There will, from that time on, be a monument to the memory of Thomas Barden. You'll be the object of argument and of both admiration and hatred. Flag-wavers will either point with pride or view with alarm, depending upon their politics. Why not wait until the thing is discussed?"

"Forever? No, Edith. None of us can afford it. We must know. If this works, Sol has a rather dangerous weapon against any possible conquesting races in the galaxy. Regardless of what has gone before, Sol is in a position to go out and make her mark upon the galaxy. It is best to go prepared, and if we fear nothing, we neither need fear subjugation."

"But destroying a stellar system--"

"Who'll miss it?" he asked.

She looked blank. "I don't know," she said. "It just seems so big. It doesn't seem right that one man should be able to go out and destroy a stellar system. One that has been stable for million upon million of years. Superstition, perhaps," she said thoughtfully. "I'm not a religious woman, Tom. I am not sacrilegious, either. Somehow, somewhere, there must be a God--"

"Who made the universe. With a density of ten to the minus twenty-eighth power and an average temperature of matter about twenty million degrees? For the benefit of Terrans. Well if so, Edith, He is willing to see one of His experiments used to further mankind in his struggle. _Ad astra per aspera_, my dear!"

Edith agreed solemnly but was obviously unconvinced.

"Look," he hastened to add, "if all this was put here for the benefit of Terrans, we're expected to use it. If we are incidental in some grand plan encompassing a billion suns in a thousand galaxies, loss of one sun won't matter."

"I suppose that's logic," she said. "I'd prefer not to talk about it too much. I know it should be done, but it still seems all wrong somehow."

"We've got to know. Remember there's a lot of truth in the whole thing," he said thoughtfully. "And also a lot of untruth. They did tell me the way to interstellar travel--in a slightly slaunchwise fashion. They told you about the disintegration-process. Now, darn it, Edith, did they scare us away from planetary tries because they knew it would damage the system or for another reason? How do we know the thing would ruin a planet and ultimately the system? Answer, we do not."

She nodded glumly. "I suppose that it is a step toward the final solution."

"Right, and as soon as we can get a nice system, we'll try it!"

* * * * *

"This is Procyon," said Tom Barden. "Or so they tell me, I wouldn't know."

The star was a small disk almost dead ahead; its light shone down through the fore dome of the ship augmenting the lights in the observation room.

"Sentiment again," she said. "I'd prefer a system more distant."

"If this has the right kind of planets, Procyon it is," said Barden flatly. "If it has planets unsuited for life, what possible good can it do Terra? Plus the fact that the instability that follows the nova for a few years will act as a nice sign-post toward Terra from all parts of the galaxy. Remember, men will really be spreading out with the new drive."

"Again you're right. But have you no sentiment?"

He looked at her. "Not when it interferes with practicality--"

They were coasting along at half the speed of light, under the superdrive. On all sides were running cameras. One coast across the system with the moving picture cameras covering the sky would bring any planets into ken; the parallax of planetary bodies would show against the fairly constant sky. There was also visual observation for interest's sake.

At the far side, the ship came to a stop with respect to Procyon, and while the films were developing, Jerry Brandt swapped ends and ran the ship nearer the center of the system. Procyon, from one side port, looked about as large as Sol from Terra and it seemed about as bright and warm.

It was here that they met the alien ship. It came from nowhere and passed them slantwise at a terrific velocity. As it passed, a stabbing beam darted once, and the beam-end burst into a coruscation of sheer energy.

"That," blubbered Barden, "was close!"

Jerry Brandt swore thoroughly, and whipped the ship around slightly, cramming on the superdrive but keeping the drivers below the speed of light. He set his switches carefully, and seconds later the alien ship appeared for one brief instant and then was gone. While it was there, eye-visible in the sky, one of the ship's own cutting planes sheared out and sliced the driving tubes from the bottom of the ship.

Then it was gone and Brandt fought the switches, stopping the ship.

"What--was that?"

"We've got a nice way of retaliating," said Barden harshly. "We use the intermittent generator of the superdrive but we stay below the velocity of light. Jerry has calibrated the intermittence and the rep-rate to a nice precision. We appear in true space, slash out, and disappear again to reappear God knows how many miles farther on. Now we'll go back and see whether that bird wants more." He spoke to Jerry: "Take care!"

"Easy she goes," replied Brandt. "Did you see that joker? He tried to ruin us!"

* * * * *

They came up as the inert alien came into view. It stabbed again with that beam but missed. Jerry Brandt swore again and cut the ship from end to end with his cutting plane. This time there was no response save a swirl of smoke from the cleft sides of the ship.

"We've used these to cut asteroids into stove lengths," he told Barden sharply. "I wonder how many of them have been used likewise on some hapless enemy."

"I don't have any way of knowing," said Barden. "And I don't care whether it is a proper weapon to use or not. It worked."

"What are you going to do?" asked Dr. Ward.

He smiled at her. "He didn't like us--apparently for no reason than we were alien. If he'd come in peaceable, we'd have made talky-talk. As it is, he fired first but not too well. Now we'll just grab his ship and see what he's got, who he is, where he's from--and possibly why."

It was a small ship outside, in space. But getting it into the vast cargo-hold of Barden's ship required some more trimming. The alien ship finally lay in eight sections, stacked. The cargo-hold was now jammed with alien ship and much of the spare equipment and supplies were jettisoned.

Then they went in warily to examine the alien. They found the alien crew--four of them. They were spacesuited but unconscious.

"Hope they breathe air at twenty-per cent oxygen," growled Barden. They opened the suits and laid the unconscious aliens on tables in one of the operations rooms.