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diff --git a/old/63720.txt b/old/63720.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8e7476b..0000000 --- a/old/63720.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1728 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Through the Asteroids--To Hell!, by Leroy Yerxa - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Through the Asteroids--To Hell! - -Author: Leroy Yerxa - -Release Date: November 11, 2020 [EBook #63720] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THROUGH THE ASTEROIDS--TO HELL! *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - Through The Asteroids--To Hell! - - BY LEROY YERXA - - Blair Freedman had torn that tunnel through - the grinding asteroid wall--with the mighty - Cutter ... he'd die readily enough now to - keep it open--but not with the girl he loved! - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories Fall 1946. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -Blair Freedman pushed the jet control slightly, sending the X26 into a -wide slow arc toward the asteroid tunnel. He sighed and glanced at the -chart on the desk. Trip number seven thousand twenty-two. For the rest -of his life. - -"Come over here, Jerry," he called. - -Jerry Graham, short, slight of figure, smiled and left the navigation -desk. Graham's face was black where his razor had left heavy hair just -below the surface of the skin. His smile was mild and the brown eyes -behind heavy spectacles were gentle. - -"What is it, Blair?" - -He stood beside Freedman, watching the solid, moving wall of the -asteroid belt. - -Blair Freedman sighed. - -"Did you ever have the urge to deliberately miss the entrance of the -tunnel? To hit full on against the asteroids?" - -Graham stiffened, feeling ice water sluice suddenly into his veins. - -"Are you nuts?" - -Freedman relaxed. His grip on the control lever became lighter, more -expert. - -"No," he said slowly. "No, I'm okay. For a minute I was crazy, I guess. -That's why I called you." - -Graham studied the face of the younger man. Freedman was tall, -rather slim. Graham could never decide just what made Blair Freedman -attractive to the opposite sex, unless the secret lay in his deep, gray -eyes and that shock of alarmingly red hair. - -"I don't get it," he said. "Sure, the old routine gets tiresome. But -it's a job and someone has to do it. We can't _all_ be in the Warrior -Patrol." - -Freedman had seemingly come to his senses now. He sent the ship -straight at the dark maw of the tunnel, flashed his colors to the guard -ship that hovered near the entrance with its big guns trained on him, -and then they were in the darkness. - -The brilliant lamps of the X26 sent splashes of light along the walls. -Blair Freedman shuddered. - -"Walls," he said idly. "Walls of twisting, gyrating death. I wonder -what really happens when a ship hits them?" - -He was talking half to himself, but Graham shuddered. Blair Freedman -needed a rest, he decided. Needed to straighten himself out with the -world. - -"You'd be torn to dust in ten seconds," he said. "That is, if you -weren't riding in the Cutter." - -The Cutter was the huge ship designed by Planet Control, to keep the -asteroid tunnel open. - -Freedman nodded. - -"And that's _another_ thing I've got on my mind." - -Graham wanted him to talk, until all the bitterness was out of him. - -"What's another thing?" - -They were deep in the tunnel now. Graham's eyes checked the mileage. -Fifteen miles in. Ten minutes before they would see light again. - -Blair Freedman said, "I'm damned tired of running that ploughhorse. -Pete Folley's got to get another man for the job. I'm quitting." - -Both men continued to look straight ahead. Freedman kept his eyes on -the controls. He had said it now. Said what he had wanted to say for -a month. A war was coming. He wanted "out" from the tunnel patrol. He -was good enough for the warrior ships. He wanted to fly them. Get out -into space where there was excitement, and a chance to show that he was -ready for something better. - -"Look here, Blair," Graham said slowly. He had a helluva lump in his -throat. He felt lost. "Me, I'm not fit for the service. Too old. I -couldn't fly in here with anyone else. We been a team for years. You -can't...." - -Freedman interrupted. - -"I thought it all out, Jerry. You haven't got the confidence because -you've never had to do the work. You've leaned on me. You can handle -this ship _and_ the Cutter. Folley will never fire you." - -A speedy luxury ship swished past them, coming from the opposite end of -the tunnel. There was light far ahead. - -"I dunno," Graham said hesitantly. "You made up your mind? You're -leaving for sure?" - -Freedman took a deep breath. - -"I'm leaving," he said. - -Graham turned and went back slowly to the navigation desk. He was -acting like a damned fool, he knew. Still, losing Blair was like losing -your arm, losing part of your brain and soul. He sat down and tried to -study the mapping sheets. - -The figures and lines jumped up and blurred his eyes. Cautiously, so -Blair Freedman wouldn't see, he lifted his specs and rubbed a hand -across his eyes. - -"Dammit," he said suddenly in a furious voice. "Go on then, and be -cussed. Sure I can fly alone. You can go to hell and see if I care." - -Freedman swung around, startled. Graham's back was to him, his head -bent over the desk. "You don't have to get tough," he said mildly. - -"You heard me," Graham said. "Go to hell." - -They flashed out into the bright, clear void above the satellite Parma, -and Freedman changed his course for the home port. Behind them, the -solid, bulking group of asteroids barred them once more from the main -satellite group. There was only that single, carefully cut tunnel -through the wall. Freedman remained by the controls, a frown on his -thin pleasant face. - -What was wrong with Jerry, acting like that? Sometimes he thought Jerry -was a little nuts. - - * * * * * - -Old Man Folley leaned back in his chair behind the desk in the -Operations Office. Peter Folley was his full name and he had mild, -washed out blue eyes that regarded Freedman in a puzzled manner. - -"But Blair--" he protested quietly, in answer to Freedman's outburst. - -"I've made up my mind," Freedman said. "I've threatened to leave a -dozen times. It isn't you. It isn't anyone. Or, for that matter, -anything special. I'm fed up on the job and I want something exciting. -The Warrior Patrol is my meat." - -Folley found a cigar and lighted it. He seemed to relax a little. He -was getting ready to argue the case. - -Freedman knew he couldn't escape the argument. He had too much respect -for Pete Folley to walk out on him. - -"Remember, Pete," he said, "I've made up my mind this time. The old pep -talk won't do any good. I'm fed up." - -Folley was stubborn. He found a piece of paper and a pen-stick. - -"Watch this, Blair," he said, and made a little _x_ in the right side -of the paper. - -"Vestena," he said, pointing to the _x_. "The strongest satellite in -the outer area." On the left side of the sheet he put another _x_. -"Parma," he said. "The gold satellite--power of the system." - -He blacked in the center with a heavy series of lines. - -"Now then," he said slowly, "I'm trying to show you that this job -_is_ important. Get me straight. I know it's no cinch to go through -that damned tunnel twice a day, week after week. To blast the Cutter -through, pushing aside asteroids and slaving in the dark. - -"But listen to me, Blair. You got it all wrong. You say yourself that -there's a war heading up between Parma and Vestena. If war comes -there'll be a lot of glory for the Warrior Patrol. You'll be big stuff. -You'll be a great guy. _But did it ever occur to you how Vestena plans -to attack Parma?_" - -He paused dramatically, then plunged on with his story. - -"Vestena fighters have to fly the long route, fifteen thousand miles -around the asteroid belt. They can't do that. The supply line is too -long. They think they're coming through the tunnel." - -Freedman shook his head. - -"Simple problem," he said. "We'll close the tunnel. They haven't the -brains or equipment to re-open it again." - -Folley shook his head. - -"We can't do that, son. When Planet Control gave us the contract for -the tunnel, it collected vast sums of money from the fifteen associated -satellites. Now war is coming between _two_ of those satellites. The -others still hold a huge interest in the tunnel. Business has to go on -as usual between those other satellites. It can't stop. The tunnel has -to be kept open. It will be." - -"How?" Freedman asked. - -"By an independent fighting group. By Tunnel Control." - -Freedman shook his head. - -"Sorry, Pete. It's a good argument, but it just isn't good enough. I -need lots of void to move in, Pete. I need the thunder of guns and -the taste of flame. Can't get it out of my system. Maybe, when it's -over...?" - -Pete Folley swore. - -"Graham told me it was no good arguing with you," he said in a low -voice. "Okay, Blair, desert us. Run away and join the damned army. But -don't come sniveling back to me when it's over. We'll fight our battles -without you. When we've finished, there'll be no place for a guy who -walked out on us." - -Freedman felt a cold stab go up his back. He had never thought it would -be like this. Jerry Graham, and now Pete. Old Folley who had raised him -since he was a kid. He straightened his shoulders. - -"If that's the way it is," he said. - -"That's just the way it is," Folley said, and looked down at the desk -top with brooding eyes. - -Freedman turned and went out. - - * * * * * - -Blair Freedman's room was barren. His things were packed neatly into -three trunks in the center of the floor. Freedman stood near the window -looking down into the street. The car from the Warrior Patrol would be -here shortly to pick him up. - -He looked around the place for the last time. A queer feeling of -homesickness swept over him. This room at the Setric Hotel had served -him for the past ten years. Now he was leaving it to take over quarters -in the splendid barracks of the Warrior Patrol of the Parma Air Force. - -A knock sounded on the door. Thinking the boy had come up for his bags, -he called: - -"Come in." - -Freedman didn't look up as the door opened. He heard footsteps near the -door, then a quiet, feminine voice said: - -"Do you usually ignore your visitors?" - -Freedman straightened, his face red, to stare with surprise at the -slim, honey-haired girl inside the door. She wore the uniform of the -Space Merchants of Vestena. Her neat figure seemed molded into the -scanty leather breeches and gold-cloth vest. A small light-gun hung -loosely from the belt around her waist. Was it his imagination, or did -the fingers of her right hand poise lightly over the gun? - -"Hello," he said slowly. "I don't think I know you. I had expected...." - -She nodded. - -"The porter," she said. "Yes, I had to bribe him to let me come up." - -Blair Freedman felt new warmth in his face. Anger, rising slowly, made -his fingers clench. - -"Why was it so necessary to see me?" - -He didn't like it. The Space Merchants were neutral, but the satellite -Vestena was stalling waiting to declare war. Could she be a spy? - -The girl walked across the room and looked down on the busy square -below. Her back was turned to him. She had a way of coolly going about -her business as though he didn't exist, and speaking to him only when -she was ready to do so. He watched the slim, well-built figure, the -maze of fluffy gold that hung about the back of her neck. - -"You're Blair Freedman," she said, without turning around. - -"You knew that before you came up here." - -Silence. - -"You're going to join the Warrior Patrol?" - -"If that's any of your business, yes." He was blazing mad. Mad because -she had the nerve to walk calmly into his room and question him. - -"See here," he snapped, "I've got work to do. You've said your piece. -Now get out of here before I call the management." - -She whirled around, facing him, solemn blue eyes staring into his. - -"You asked for it," she said. "You're joining the Warrior Patrol to -make yourself a big-shot. You've got to have glory and blood. _I'll_ -tell _you_ something. You bored the tunnel through the asteroid belt. -You handled the 'Cutter.' You've done the job three times now and it's -a job that one man in a thousand has the courage to tackle. Now you're -walking out on the Tunnel Patrol." - -She hesitated, panting, catching her breath. - -"Well, _Mr. Big_, you're walking right out into the open where they can -take a pot shot at you, and don't think they won't do it." - -He took two strides toward her and grasped her wrist. He must have held -it tightly for tears started from her eyes. - -[Illustration: _Instinctively he grasped her and held her tightly -against him._] - -"Go ahead--hurt me. You can. You're very strong." - -"_Who's_ taking pot shots at me?" - -She jerked away from him violently. - -"It's none of your darn business. You deserve to be shot. You're a tin -horn sport, running away from a real job to get your wings covered with -star dust." - -She backed away from him, holding her wrist, her eyes blazing. - -She reached the door and opened it quickly. - -Freedman, completely bewildered by what had happened, started after -her. The light-gun shot into her hand and its barrel pointed at his -stomach. - -"I came here to help you," she said coldly, "but I think I could shoot -now, you bull-headed, star-chasing hero." - -He stopped short. The girl was beautiful, and so angry that her eyes -seemed to shoot flame. - -"Who are you? Why did...?" - -"I came because I thought I loved you," she clipped the words off with -an utterly matter of fact voice. "Now I find that you're so much in -love with yourself that there isn't room for anyone else." - -She was gone, and the room was silent. A Parma housefly zoomed across -the room and lit on the door knob. Freedman jerked the door open and -the fly buzzed away. The hall was empty. He listened. Not a sound. - -He went back in, shaking his head slowly. - -"Well I'll--be...." - -A girl who came from nowhere. A girl he had never seen before, and she -had come to say that she loved him, and in the same breath, threatened -to shoot him through the stomach. - -Freedman sat down on the edge of the bed. He felt a little shaky.... - - * * * * * - -Lieutenant Breecher made a wide, sweeping gesture with his free hand. -"The Warrior Patrol of Parma." Blair Freedman sat in the cramped, -efficient little fighter rocket, following Breecher's hand as the -Warrior Patrol swept in toward the entrance to the Asteroid Tunnel. - -"I'm proud to be in the force," Freedman said. "I've watched you men -for years. Always had the feeling that I had to desert those pluggy -patrol ships and get into the fighters. It's a great feeling. A clean -feeling, as though I've dropped the slow, dull life and kicked up my -heels for a real run in the void." - -Breecher's head came around slowly, where he could study Freedman's -face more easily. - -"Those thousand ships out there are all that lie between Parma and -destruction," he said slowly. "Yet, if it weren't for the tunnel, you -know, they would have to travel too damned far to get at us. They can -fight their war two ways. Plan a series of battles with the Warrior -Patrol, or blow up the tunnel and seal Parma behind that ungodly range -of Asteroids. Either way, Parma would choke in a few months. The tunnel -_is_ important." - -Freedman nodded. It troubled him, all this reference to the tunnel. -First Folley, then the girl, and now, even Lieutenant Breecher of the -Warrior Patrol. - -"Strictly routine stuff, though," he said, almost in self-defense. "A -hundred men, a few patrol ships, and an occasional trip with the Cutter -to clear out debris. That's the tunnel patrol, year after year." - -The Lieutenant let well enough alone. The Warrior Patrol had swept past -now. The dull, war-painted heads on the rockets were business-like and -ready. The Lieutenant nosed his own ship into the tail of the formation -and opened his jets. They swept back toward Parma. - -"There, I've shown you the boys and their ships," he said. "Tomorrow -you'll fly with them." - -The ugly static of the relay-screen broke in. - -"_Calling Warrior Patrol--Calling Warrior Patrol._" - -"That's Leader Van Nordast," Lieutenant Breecher said in a low voice. -"Something's up." - -Van Nordast's face was on the screen. He looked powerful, compact, -business-like. - -"The Warrior Patrol will not come to base tonight. It will protect the -outer entrance to the asteroid tunnel. - -"A hundred extra ships are being sent at once. They will join the -Patrol near the Tunnel Patrol ship, and base there until further orders -come from this office. - -"Post guards and _watch that tunnel_. By tomorrow, news will be up to -date and I will give you further instructions." - -The image on the screen sighed. - -"You may as well know tonight. Vestena didn't wait for us to make -plans. It tried to destroy the tunnel today. Sabotage, with a few -suicide ships. - -"A few men were killed but the attempt failed. That is all. Proceed to -base." - -The screen was empty again, and Blair Freedman was cussing and -wondering if maybe Jerry Graham had been right. - -He could fight now. He had the best equipment in the planetary system. - -_A few men were killed...._ - -He remembered Van Nordast's words. Grim words that probably applied to -the boys he had known since childhood. Maybe Jerry was one of them. -Jerry Graham with his gray-black hair, wrinkled kindly face and gentle -eyes peering from behind his specs. - -The Lieutenant hadn't spoken since the message flashed off. Now he said: - -"Well, you're going to get your baptism of fire sooner than I expected." - -"Yes," Freedman said. "Yes, that's right." - -He was wondering if it made any difference. If Jerry was dead, he'd -have to kill a couple thousand soldiers to revenge that one kindly man. - - * * * * * - -The guard ship on the outer end of the Asteroid Tunnel was anchored in -space a short distance from the tunnel itself. It had to carry its own -supplies, heavy armament and ammunition. Normally, it was capable of -holding off a dozen space fighters, sending them reeling back with the -heavy punches from its cannon. - -The Warrior Patrol came in on a sweeping arc, and slowed to circle -about and finally hide the rugged, stocky mother-ship that guarded the -tunnel. Orders were given. Ships and pilots were warned not to fly too -close to the heaving mass of asteroids. They looked solid. Actually, -they were in motion every second, tons of ragged, grinding metal and -stone, heaving a few inches this way or that, destroying anything that -touched their surface. - -It was through this terrifying belt of death that Blair Freedman had -first dared point the prow of the "Cutter" and had, by sheer guts, torn -a tunnel through the asteroids that served to demolish the thousands of -miles of impossible flying by the outside route to Parma. - -In peace, the asteroid belt had been pierced by the needle-like tunnel -and through it commerce poured to the other worlds. It was the Panama -Canal of space. In peace time, a simple job of patrolling. In war, it -might become a hell-spot of intrigue and battle. - -The Warrior Patrol had come to protect it, keep it open, and to prevent -the fighting ships of Vestena from using it to conquer Parma. - -A vast set for a chess game. The pieces were placed, alert and waiting, -about the tunnel head. When would the opposing player make his first -move? - -Lieutenant Blair Freedman left his ship, moved carefully up the deck -of the mother-ship and entered the air lock. In five minutes he was -talking to fat, easy going Captain Stew in the mother-ship. Captain -Stew wasn't the pudgy old gentleman's real name, but he had been -called by it for so many years that any other he may have had was long -forgotten. The Captain, with his home-made, blue denim uniform and -enormous black pipe, led Freedman into his cabin and offered him the -place of honor on his bunk. - -"Sit, Blair," he said. "Suppose you heard the news?" - -Freedman nodded. He hated to ask what had happened. Captain Stew was a -tough old warrior. He could hold off half an army with this big, well -armed ship. He knew how to fight and how to live. He hated to part with -men. - -"What happened here?" - -Stew puffed mightily on his pipe and laid it down. "Nothing much, if -they hadn't shot two of my gunners." - -A tiny sigh escaped Blair's lips. Then Jerry Graham was safe. - -"Night work," Stew said briefly. "Two ships passed and signalled with -our flags for permission to enter. I gave them the okay after checking -their numbers and the flight charts. They didn't go into the tunnel. I -saw them start heaving stuff out into space at the tunnel mouth. - -"It was pretty dark, but I recognized the stuff they were tossing out." -He paused, then said, "Space mines." - -"They planned to blow the head of the tunnel?" - -Stew nodded. - -"I opened fire and blew them straight to hell." - -"But your men?" - -Stew grunted. - -"They had time to put one shot across my forward deck. Knocked out one -gun. Killed a couple of good boys." - -He stood up, emptied his pipe and put it back into his mouth with bowl -upside down. - -"Graham and his men came through on routine patrol just a few seconds -after those damned ships blew up," he said. "If they had hit one of -them space mines...." - -Freedman stared ahead of him at the smoke darkened walls. - -"That would have been tough," he said. "Well, the danger's over now." - -He stood up. - -"I think the Warrior Patrol is strong enough to protect the tunnel, -don't you, Captain?" - -Captain Stew looked thoughtful. - -"_Strong_ enough," he said, "if the rats will come out in force and -fight. Take my word for it, though, they'll make more attempts like the -one last night. This isn't the...." - -Captain Stew was cut off suddenly by a mighty explosion that seemed to -come from directly below. The mother-ship took a quick lurch that sent -them both to the floor. Stew, in spite of his size, was the first to -regain his feet. - -"What the...." - -They stumbled out onto the deck. The darkness was sliced with orange -and red flame. The entire fleet, it seemed to Freedman, had opened fire -at a dark object disappearing toward Vestena. - -He watched the object for fifteen seconds, then saw it dissolve in -white hot flame. - -The guns became quiet. The decks of the mother-ship stopped shaking. -Captain Stew howled something at the top of his voice and a gunner came -running up. - -"Why in the name of the Seven Ton God of Hate didn't you call me?" Stew -shouted. - -The soldier, grim faced, sooted by the cannon smoke, did his own share -of cursing. - -"Didn't have time," he fumed. "One ship. It sneaked up to the tunnel -mouth and didn't even show a light. It tossed out enough stuff to seal -that tunnel for keeps. Captain Stew, there's a patrol ship due through -from Parma in fifteen minutes. The tunnel's sealed tight." - - * * * * * - -Freedman knew the ship. _His_ ship was due, with Graham at the wheel. -Freedman knew where the radio was on the mother-ship. He dashed down -the deck. - -The radio man was flashing signals to Parma, warning all flights to -wait for approval to come ahead. - -Freedman slammed himself down at the board. - -He plugged in the tunnel speaker. The power board showed zero. The -mighty voice that could speak to anyone in the tunnel was dead. - -"The guns shook some wires loose," the control man said. "We'll try the -electro-screen." - -They worked swiftly, trying to contact Jerry Graham. Finally his voice -came on to the screen. He had a cheerful grin on his face. - -"Hey," he said, "what's wrong at tunnel head? I'm getting a whistle -on the screen but I can't tune you in. Something wrong with your -transmission." - -"For Heaven's sake, Jerry," Freedman shouted, "turn back, don't come -through." - -Graham looked puzzled. - -"Seems like I hear a voice," Graham was saying. His eyes were bright -and sparkling behind his specs. "You guys playing a joke on me? I can -hear something that sounds like a voice, but I can't hear words. Just a -jumble." - -"Jerry," Freedman shouted. "The tunnel head is blown out." - -The control man was working furiously with the set. - -"Sure, we'll have a blow out," Graham said. The smile was broad on -his lips. Five minutes to the tunnel head. Five minutes between that -smile--and sudden death. - -"What the hell," Freedman said. "We've got to get this set running." - -"Hey," Jerry Graham was saying, "what _is_ wrong with your sender? The -screen is blurred. The static is awful. Clear it up, will you?" - -"Can't," Freedman mumbled to himself. Perspiration stood out on his -face. "Can't, Jerry. Can't." - -The control man continued to work. - -"Never had this happen before," he said. "Guns were raising hell for a -while. They blew out the tubes on both sets. Wire shorted somewhere. -Can't find it." - -Freedman looked at the clock. - -"One minute," he said in a humble, frightened voice. "One minute of -life for Jerry." He paused and then put his face close to the screen. - -"Jerry," he shouted, "Jerry, for God's sake, go back. The tunnel...." - -It wasn't any use. Before he stopped talking, Graham said: - -"Wow, this is _too_ much. You guys sound like a bunch of wailing -banshees. I'm signing off until you get that sender running again." - -"_Jerry_...." - -There was something wild and uncontrolled in Freedman's plea. - -The screen clicked and was white. Dead white, like a sheet drawn over a -corpse. - -Freedman sat there, idly holding his watch, his face pale, eyes vacant. -The control man kept on working, patiently, carefully. After a long -time Freedman looked at his watch. He stood up. He walked unsteadily -toward the door, to meet Captain Stew coming in. - -"Guess everything is okay up there," Stew motioned back toward the -deck. "Did you contact Graham?" - -Freedman couldn't hear him. He pushed Stew aside and went out, staring -across the void at the line upon line of fighters, grouped like -soldiers at attention. - -Behind him, Captain Stew spoke to the control man. - -"What the hell's burning him up?" - -The control man's head came up slowly from the set. - -"He ain't feeling so good," he said. "Seems like he deserted a pal a -while back, and now his pal's dead. I think he's kinda sorry he wasn't -on the job when it happened." - -Stew nodded slowly. - -"That's tough," he said. "I guess I know how he must feel." - - * * * * * - -Blair Freedman stood rigidly before the desk, arms at his sides, eyes -on Peter Folley. Folley didn't look up. He gripped Freedman's release -papers in his hand. He wasn't reading them. - -"So you came back?" - -Freedman didn't answer. - -"I suppose on account of Jerry, huh?" Folley said. "You were talking to -Jerry just before he died, they said." - -Freedman found his voice. - -"I tried to warn him." - -Folley nodded slightly. - -"If you had been with him, you'd have known the tunnel head was -blocked. You had that gift, the sense of feeling pressure changes. You -would have saved Jerry." - -Freedman didn't answer. He had left the Warrior Patrol and come back to -his old job again. He had to carry on for Jerry Graham. - -"Well," Folley said suddenly, "I know what you want, and I don't need -you. You quit once. That's enough. Go back and get all the glory you -can out of army life. We'll get along." - -He stood up and turned his back to Freedman. - -Freedman picked up the release papers and put them into his pocket -slowly. His hands shook. - -"Pete," he said, "I was a fool. It took Jerry's death to make me see -it. I came back to say I was sorry. Jerry Graham was like a brother to -me. I want the old job back. I want to open the tunnel and keep it -open." - -Pete Folley faced him slowly. He looked very tired. His face was pale -and dark pockets stood out under his eyes. - -"I'm giving up," he said desperately. "I can't fight alone. Ten of my -best men have been killed in a week. As fast as we open the tunnel, -an enemy ship darts in and commits suicide to blow it closed again. I -haven't got the men or the guts to keep on fighting. It's up to the -Warrior Patrol to protect the tunnel. Your place is with them." - -Freedman wanted to help Folley then. Wanted to prove his worth all over -again. - -"Pete, you and I started the tunnel. We always have kept it open. If we -work together now, I think we can do it again. You, I and--Jerry." - -There was a brief flash of hope in Folley's eyes. Then it faded and he -looked glum. - -"Okay," he said, "You know where the Cutter is. Take it out in the -morning. You're on the payroll, as long as there is one." - - * * * * * - -The Tunnel Patrol, in spite of its homely name and lack of dignity -was a big organization. Its field and hangars housed a hundred speedy -patrol ships, tons of special earth moving equipment, and last but most -powerful, the ship referred to as the Cutter. - -Freedman came down the field to the huge building that housed the -Cutter. He slipped quietly into the side door, still shivering from the -cold morning fog that had settled on the port. He paused, old memories -surging through him. Memories of the long days and nights he and Jerry -had spent behind the instrument board of the huge craft. - -The Cutter was officially labelled Z1000. Its vast bulk filled a space -equal to a city block. Its bulky, blade covered nose wasn't graceful. -In fact, the whole ship looked like a vast, bloated sausage with spiral -blades attached to its bow, and a number of stove pipe lengths at the -stern which shot out thunderous potions of fire and gas. - -It was a special job, the Z1000. It was a working man's ship. A ship -that you couldn't batter and destroy. The Z1000 could take it. It had -taken unbelievable punishment already and it was ready for more. - -Freedman mounted the ladder and went into the belly of the ship. It was -like coming home again. He half expected to hear Jerry Graham shout to -him from the navigation room above. - -"Damned imagination," he said aloud. He said it bitterly. - -His voice came back to him, a hollow thing echoing through the interior -of the Cutter. - -He climbed the series of steps and came out on the platform behind the -blades. He entered the navigation room. Already the doors of the hangar -were rolled back by the electric-finger he had touched as he came in. - -No use waiting for anyone or anything. He was flying alone. Freedman -adjusted the fuel indicators. Folley had told him last night that the -lanes would be open and no ships were maneuvering this side of the -tunnel. He drew back the rocket release levers, sat back and adjusted -the delicate headphones that would tell him what the blades on the -ship's nose were doing. Then, as though riding behind a plugging work -horse, he started to doze. - -This, he thought, hasn't the speed or the flash of the fighting ships. -It's a tough job to do. But I'll do it. - -The job wasn't a pleasant one. Freedman knew that near the far end of -the tunnel, wedged into the debris of the wrecked tunnel, his old ship, -the X26, was laying. In the control room, if there was still a control -room, Jerry Graham's crushed corpse would be stretched across the -instrument panel. - -An endless hour passed. - -The flight was no longer routine. He was nearing the end of the tunnel. -The Cutter, Z1000 had taken the grinding, tearing trip easily, and -her plates were hardly heated by the occasional edges she had to rip -from the tunnel. He slowed the huge sausage-like ship and watched the -instruments closely. Fifteen miles--then only ten. - -He braked the ship and paused. Here, according to the instruments, the -X26 would be wedged. - -Grimly, Freedman donned the oxygen suit, turned on the powerful lamps -that would light his way in the inky black tunnel, opened the forward -hatch and went out. Ahead and all around him were the dense metals and -rocks of the tunnel. The crushing, tearing sounds, always present in -this weird place, seemed worse today. He climbed carefully out on the -huge cutter blades, down the emergency ladder and jumped to the X26. -It wasn't as badly wrecked as he had feared. That didn't mean that it -would fly again, or that there was any hope of Graham being alive. He -knew that the X26 had hit with a speed that would insure at least a -broken neck for near-sighted Jerry. - -No sense kidding yourself, Blair, he thought. - -He worked his way into the broken hatch of the X26, found a heavy -emergency bar and tore the door to the main cabin open. It was as he -thought. Jerry hadn't known what happened. The accident had come too -fast. Jerry had been thrown to the floor. There were no marks on his -body. His lips were parted in amazement, but no horror. - -Freedman choked back a sob, picked Graham up tenderly and went back -along the wrecked corridor. In the Z1000 he placed Graham on one of the -emergency bunks, strapped him down and covered the body with a blanket. -His teeth were gritted tightly together. His knuckles were white. He -felt little emotion, or rather, tried to steel himself against feeling -it. - -Back in the control room, he sat down, pulled out the special valve -release that ran the Cutter blades and waited for their steady, -powerful rhythm to tell him that they were ready to cut. - -This was a part of the business that had always thrilled him. Today it -was just a job. A dirty, routine job. There wasn't any pleasure in it. - -He thought of Jerry. Jerry who had laughed and gone to his death -because a certain Blair Freedman had deserted him and tried to find -glory. - -The cutters were gyrating at a terrific speed now. The nose of the -Z1000 was hot with the movement of the bearings. Freedman turned on the -oilers. Long, thick jets of oil started to shoot out ahead of the ship, -glancing off the blades, oiling the rocks. - -Savagely, as though this was a personal battle, Freedman turned on the -forward power. The Z1000 hit the remains of the wrecked patrol ship, -ripped through it and into the sullen, slow moving mass of metal and -rock. It shuddered once, then settled down, matching its blades against -the mass. - -[Illustration: _The Z1000 moved stolidly ahead, its blades roaring._] - -It moved stolidly ahead, and the roar of the blades drowned out -everything else. - -The wall wouldn't be thick. Freedman grimaced. He remembered the months -he had spent ripping through the first time. - -He'd like to go on tearing and gouging, fighting the only way he -knew--fighting nature. - -Those slim, tube like army ships weren't for him. His job was to slog -along, ripping away at the barrier that at once protected and cut off -his home satellite from the other satellite nations. - -The Z1000 was a fighting ship that would never enter the war directly, -and yet affected its course more vividly than any single unit of the -fleet. - -_Never enter the war directly?_ - -Freedman wondered. Listening to the inhuman power of the Cutter, -he wondered. It might be feasible. He had never studied speeds and -pressures. Just how much punishment could the big ship take? - -Suddenly, with a lurch, the Z1000 tore itself from the wall and flew -out into space. - -Swiftly, as the cutters were already whirring upward toward a breaking -speed, Freedman cut the power and idled in space. To his left, the -fleet was drawn up in neat battle lines. Captain Stew's guard ship was -floating about, and he knew that Stew himself would be watching him -coming. They had been listening to his thunderous battle with the rocks -for some minutes. - -For a second Freedman felt elation because he had once more battled -with nature and won. Then he remembered Jerry Graham, stretched -lifelessly on the bunk in the room below. - -The fight was just starting. - - * * * * * - -The girl stood on the apron near the hangar. Though it was dark, he -knew her at once. In the light of the moon, she seemed more like a -ghost than a woman. Her hair was like a soft gold crown. Her dress, cut -close to her body, was white and of rare Vestena silk. - -Freedman wanted to avoid her, and yet there was that mystery that -clung to her and forced him to walk toward her. - -"You've come back from the tunnel," she said. - -Her voice was low. - -He nodded. He was tired. He had just called the authorities and asked -them to remove Graham's body from the Z1000. The tunnel was open again -and the fleet guarded it. He needed rest. - -"The tunnel is open. You told me I was a tin-horn sport. I don't know -who you are, but you were right. I'm working in the tunnel again. -That's what you wanted." - -Though he had seen her only once before, he was anxious to please her. -She was like an angel, appearing only when he needed her, and slipping -away into the night again. - -"You're still feeling very much like a hero, aren't you?" she -challenged. "You've just opened the tunnel. You're tired and you want -to be alone. You've done something big and wonderful." - -He didn't try to explain to her. He didn't tell her of Jerry's crushed -body in the ship and how he, himself, felt crushed and weary. - -"No ... I...." - -"Don't talk to me," she said scornfully. Fire danced in her eyes. The -fresh wind sent her hair, the flimsy gown, flying in the wind. "I told -you I loved you once." - -"I don't even know you," he protested. "Why have you chosen me?" - -Her voice was steady now. Steady and like a whip lash. - -"Because I knew you from the time you entered the patrol as a boy," she -said. "I worshipped you from afar, and I know of everything you did. -I talked to my father every day, sometimes more often than that. He -thought the planet system would have fallen apart if you hadn't been -here to steady it." - -_Her father?_ - -"You seem determined to punish me," he said unsteadily. He could hear -the ambulance car rocketing across the field now. They were coming for -Jerry. - -"I'll go on punishing you," she said. "If it hadn't been for you, Dad -wouldn't be dead now, laying over there in that ship." - -_Dad? Jerry Graham?_ - -"You're not...?" - -Her nod was barely discernible. - -"Jerry Graham lived on Vestena for many years," she said. "When mother -died, he put me into a community school. He came here. He never told -anyone...." Her voice broke. - -"Through my father, I worshipped you. It's all dead now. If I can find -a way to hurt you, I'll do it." - -She whirled and was gone, a slim, windswept figure in the vast darkness -of the field. - -He started to run after her. Then he saw the tiny, sport-model rocket -plane parked at the edge of the apron. She was in it and the rockets -were exploding before he could reach her. - -She waved her arm at him as the ship leaped forward. She shouted -something that was drowned in the roar of rocket exhaust. Then she was -gone. - - * * * * * - -Peter Folley was talking. "The jig's up, Blair. The Vestena merchants -have signed an oath to refuse further trade with Parma. You know what -that means?" - -Blair Freedman nodded. It didn't make any difference to him now. Not, -at least, until he found Sheila Graham and made her understand how he -really felt about Jerry's death. - -"I suppose we'll close the tunnel?" - -Folley shook his head and frowned. - -"No, that's the bad part of it. We've got to hold the tunnel open." - -He leaned forward, tapping his pencil. - -"United Satellites, comprising fifteen powers, accepted a contract -to open the tunnel, on the promise that we would _keep_ it open. Now -there's a war between Vestena and Parma. The Merchants of Vestena won't -buy from us, and the tunnel was used mostly by their ships. Yet, even -if the other powers no longer use the tunnel, we promised to keep it -open in the event they do. They won't release us from that contract. -Now we've got to keep open our most vulnerable approach. We've got to -protect it from the people who will leave no stone unturned in their -effort to destroy us by attacking through the tunnel. It's a nasty -mess." - -It was nasty. Freedman realized it. But this was an army job. A job for -the Warrior Patrol. - -He stood up. - -"I'll keep my end going," he said. "I'm doing three patrols every day. -When you need the Z1000, you know where to find me." - -He was half way to the door when Folley stopped him. - -"What's eating you, Blair?" Folley asked abruptly. - -Freedman whirled around. - -"Jerry's death for one thing," he said. - -Folley shook his head. - -"I know," he said. "There's something else. I'd almost swear you were -in love, with that miserable, whipped pup look you've been carrying on -your map." - -Blair didn't answer. Damned nonsense, he thought. He wanted to see -Sheila Graham. But not because he was in love with her. He wanted to -explain about Jerry, and tell her that he felt as miserable about it as -she did. - -She, supposedly, was on Vestena, the enemy satellite. - - * * * * * - -Captain Stew strode up and down the cabin, his huge paunch moving ahead -of him like an anchored balloon. Stew was angry. Angry clean through. -He showed it with his frown, the set of his lips. He said: - -"The damned army isn't getting anywhere. Look here, Freedman, what's -gonna happen when the Vestena fleet attacks and enters the tunnel?" - -Blair Freedman had been with Stew for several hours. He was almost -ready for the return patrol trip now. He stood up wearily. - -"That's the worry of the Warrior Patrol," he said. "My orders are to -keep the tunnel open." - -Captain Stew stopped pacing the floor. - -"Sure," he said. "Sure, you're in the clear. Look at it like I do. -Eight times now, Vestena suicide ships have shot in here and dropped -explosives into the tunnel mouth. Eight times you've plowed them out -again. Not once has the Vestena army attacked. - -"When they do, they're going straight through to the other end of the -tunnel. There isn't room _inside_ the tunnel to fight. There isn't any -Parma fleet at the other end. - -"Damned if we can stop them here. They'll be in the tunnel before we -have time to strike." - -Freedman shrugged. - -"Blow up the tunnel." - -"Sure," Stew bellowed, "and have every satellite in the system on our -neck. This ain't war boy. It's politics, and Parma has its political -neck stuck out right over the block." - - * * * * * - -Freedman read the note a dozen times. He propped it up near the mirror -as he shaved, trying to figure out why Sheila would trouble herself -again with him. _Blair Freedman_, it said, _meet me at the Z1000 hangar -tonight at moonrise._ He scowled at the mirror as he shaved. The girl -had admitted that she lived with the Space Merchants on Vestena. -Admitted that she was actually from an enemy country. It took nerve, he -thought, for her to come here alone. - -He was undecided about the proposed meeting at the hangar. Was it some -sort of a trap? She had threatened him. Freedman smiled. Threatened by -a girl. He washed his face, donned a fresh tunic and laced it. He found -his space pistol, always worn in these unstable days, and strapped it -on. - -Moonrise, he thought, and made a mental calculation. Half hour to ten. -Here I come, Miss Graham, and no tricks please. - -He locked the door behind him and went down to the rocket car in the -hotel court. - -The Z1000 bulked huge and secure in the semi-darkness of the hangar. -The low moon was coming up slowly, and the high moon already shot its -pale rays from the Larr Mountains in the opposite direction. This was -one of those rare, beautiful nights when Parma seemed to bask proudly -in the light of its moons. A night for peace, Freedman thought, and -Vestena ships probably already on the prowl. - -He walked up and down in front of the Z1000. A tiny ship shot over the -far edge of the field and landed daintily near the hangar apron. It -rolled up until the shadow of the hangar almost hid it. Sheila Graham -jumped out and came toward him. She was at his side before he saw the -frightened look on her face. - -She took his hand. - -"You're a man of honor," she said in a clipped, matter-of-fact voice. -"I've had to change my mind about you. You're doing a good job." - -She let go of his hand and stared earnestly into his eyes. - -"You know nothing of me. Perhaps I'm not Sheila Graham. I come from -enemy territory. Would you trust me on a very important mission?" - -He stared at her. It didn't make sense. He saw the fright in her -eyes. He knew that she had something of great importance on her mind. -Something that she must do and yet feared to try without his help. - -"I don't understand," he said. He was careful not to show his true -feelings toward this childlike, delicate girl from Vestena. She wasn't -born to fight, yet she seemed to be a fighter. "First you hate me, then -you ask for help. What changed your mind?" - -Her face was tinged with sudden color. - -"I don't hate you," she said, and turned away, staring toward the moon -that had just touched the top of the Larr Range. "I think you made a -mistake. That mistake cost my father's life. Since then, you've done -a loyal job. I can't tell you what we're going to do, but I know that -with your help we can do it." - -He waited, saying nothing. - -"The ships of Vestena attack tonight," she said in a shaking voice. -"We--you and I are going to stop them." - -"Attack the whole army? Why didn't you notify the Warrior Fleet at the -tunnel head? They could have been ready." - -He wheeled away from her, but she caught up and put her hand on his arm. - -"They can do nothing," she said. "The Vestena fleet sent a decoy army. -The Warrior Fleet of Parma is thousands of miles out in space, pursuing -a dummy army--an army of empty, robot-controlled ships that left -Vestena hours ago. - -"Now the true fleet is somewhere near the tunnel head, poised for a -quick dash through." - -"How do I know you're telling the truth?" - -Her eyes were steady on his. - -"_You've never doubted a word I've spoken._" - -Odd, he thought, but I never have. Why? Then he knew why. He was -looking into Jerry Graham's eyes. The eyes of a man he had trusted -above everyone else. This was his daughter. There could be no doubt. - -"I've got to warn the command at the city," he said. - -She shook her head. - -"There is no time. They can do nothing. The important thing is to stop -the Vestena fleet from getting through the tunnel." - -She started to run toward the Z1000. Over her shoulder she called to -him. - -"I have a plan. You must help. I can't operate the Cutter." - - * * * * * - -They were in the tunnel, and Freedman was confident once more. At the -controls of the Z1000, he felt at ease. At his side, Sheila Graham was -asking hurried questions. - -"What speed can the blades carry?" - -He told her. - -"And the hull. How thick is it?" - -He chuckled without humor. - -"If you hit it with a city block at a thousand miles an hour, it might -break." - -She was figuring with a pen-stick on the smooth surface of the control -board. - -"How far are we into the tunnel?" - -He consulted the mileage chart. - -"Half way. It's...." - -"Good," she said. "Turn on the blades. Use all the power you have." - -There was an undercurrent of fear in her voice. He was sure that she -struggled with herself at this moment to keep from breaking down. When -she spoke again, the howl of the rotating blades drowned all other -sound. Without stone or metal to work on, the blades were screaming at -top speed, cooled only by the oil. The Z1000 was a strange, rumbling -giant, stumbling ahead in the darkness. - -"Blair," Sheila Graham said quietly, "Are you afraid to die?" - -He felt cold beads of perspiration stand out on his forehead. The cabin -was growing very hot. Deep down he had known all along but now, as -he faced it consciously, he had to fight for control. His hands were -clammy on the wheel. - -"I told you I loved you very much once," she said. He didn't dare turn -and look at her. This wasn't any time to go soft. "I haven't changed my -mind. This was a very strange love affair, wasn't it?" - -She didn't wait for his answer, but stumbled on, her voice eager. - -"I haven't very much time to talk. Blair, I fell in love with you -when I saw your picture. When Vestena became hostile, I was declared -an orphan. I couldn't see Dad and he couldn't reclaim me. A rich man -adopted me. He was a high member of the Space Merchants organization." - -She sighed. - -"I used to read about the work you and Dad did. That's why I was so -badly hurt and angry when you left him to his death." - -"I could get away from Vestena when I wished. My foster-father owned -three ships. I learned the plan of the Vestena fleet from him. I waited -until I knew how and when they would strike. Then I came back to you. I -knew you'd be the only one to help." - -He was silent. Then: - -"It seems like old times," he said, slowly. "Seems as though Jerry and -I are together again." - -Her fingers touched his neck. She kissed him on the cheek. Her lips -were soft and very warm. "Dad is here, I think. I'm a pretty important -part of Jerry. We loved each other very much." - -He was busy now. Busy keeping the Z1000 in one piece. If he kept up -the dizzy power rate long, and the blades didn't meet an obstruction, -they'd fly off and destroy the ship. - -"How long do we have?" - -She sighed. - -"The fleet will be in the tunnel in two minutes. We should meet them in -three." - -"We'll stop them," he said in a harsh whisper. - - * * * * * - -Oil was sloshing and flying over the Cutter's blades. He listened to -the unholy roar of the motor, then pushed the power lever down as far -as it would go. The Z1000 leaped ahead a little faster. The blades sang -a song of destruction. - -In the cabin the heat became stifling. No longer able to see through -the steamed windows, he turned out the lights. In the darkness, the red -hot plates over the motor shaft made the place glow like a tiny hell. -The extra power from the batteries hummed madly. - -"Sheila," he turned toward her. In the glow of the hot plates, he could -see her face, as pale as glistening shell. Her eyes were moist and her -face was close to his. - -Then he could say no more, because her lips were pressed tightly to his. - -"Blair, is there a chance ... any chance at all?" - -"The Z1000 was designed to cut rock and metal," he said. "I don't think -the engineers ever planned to stop an army with it." - -Two minutes. Then fifty seconds. Would the Vestena army be on time? - -The blades were good for another five minutes at most. After that.... - -"_Blair._" - -It was Sheila, her lips parted by a startled cry. Instinctively he -grasped her and held her tightly against him in the heavily padded -chair. - -Ahead of them, bright fingers of light probed the darkness; lights -that expanded rapidly, blindingly. The blades found something. There -was a sound of ripping and tearing as metal shrieked against metal in -deafening protest. The Z1000 stopped. - -Still the hurtling lights of the Vestena fighters came on. One after -the other, like blind fireflies, they flashed into the tunnel to -be ground to bits by the screaming blades of the Cutter. Then the -Z1000 lurched sickeningly. The enemy ships, ripping through the now -broken and slowing blades, pounded at full speed into its hull. Blair -Freedman, staggering and half-unconscious from the shock, sought for -the controls. He was too late. The Z1000 had stopped running. He -reached blindly for Sheila.... - -Outside, the tunnel was a hell of noise. Showering sparks cast an eerie -red glow that was occasionally punctuated by the blinding white flash -of an explosion. Ship after ship pelted into the buckling plates of the -Cutter until the cavernous maw of the tunnel became a molten mass of -smashed, twisted scrap. - -Then, gradually, the noise died down as the last Vestena ship hurled -itself into oblivion. The shriek of mangled metal was stilled. The -fires flickered into darkness. - -And in the control cabin of the huge Z1000, Blair Freedman and Sheila -Graham, battered almost beyond recognition, lay in each other's -arms--united in the final sacrifice of death. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Through the Asteroids--To Hell!, by Leroy Yerxa - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THROUGH THE ASTEROIDS--TO HELL! *** - -***** This file should be named 63720.txt or 63720.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/7/2/63720/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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