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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d5a6f90 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #64244 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64244) diff --git a/old/64244-0.txt b/old/64244-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3da7a1f..0000000 --- a/old/64244-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1317 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Preview Of Peril, by Alfred Coppel - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Preview Of Peril - -Author: Alfred Coppel - -Release Date: January 09, 2021 [eBook #64244] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PREVIEW OF PERIL *** - - - - - PREVIEW OF PERIL - - By ALFRED COPPEL, Jr. - - _Like shadows, the four ships of Flotilla - Blue Three slipped through the patrol cordon - of the powerful Martian Space Force. Only - the crazy luck of their mad, medal-bedecked - Commodore would ever get them out again._ - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories September 1953. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -The Second Martian War was three weeks old when the officers of the -Terran destroyer _Darkside_ found themselves assembled in Control and -glumly aware that the Flotilla Commodore was sizing them up. It was -hard to tell just what he was thinking, but whatever it was they had -made up their minds to return it doubled in spades. - -Having a Flotilla Commodore on board was actually a hardship, -particularly if as in the case of the _Darkside_--the ship elected was -unsuitable for a flagship. The Commodore needed cabin space for himself -and for his staff, and that meant that five of the _Darkside's_ nine -officers would have to double up on what space was left. On board a -destroyer that meant a good deal. But more important yet was the moral -effect on the ship's company. - -With a flag officer on board the easy life of an informal vessel would -vanish and something of the formality of a big ship would take its -place. The officers and crew would feel themselves under the scrutiny -of higher authority no matter how hard the Commodore tried not to -interfere with the working of the ship. And it naturally followed that -the ship's commander would lose some of the joy in his independent -command. Thus a happy ship would become a tight one ... QED. It was a -situation as old as ships and men. - -So there was little joy to be seen in the faces of Commander Scott and -his officers when Commodore Hartnett stepped through the valve followed -by his staff. Nor was their anything about Hartnett's appearance to -suggest that they had been anything but right about the manner in which -Flotilla Blue Three would be handled throughout the coming patrol. The -Commodore was a model of military correctness, a martinet moulded in -two Martian Wars and twenty years in space to a steely hardness that -was disconcerting. - -They saw a lean, leathery man in his late forties, dressed in -immaculate Greys that sported an apalling amount of silver braid. -Four stripes were rare aboard destroyers. Eyes that matched the hard -grey of the uniform glittered in a spaceburned face, shaded by heavy -black brows. Young Ensign Blake's heart sank as he took in the set -of the shoulders and the smooth fit of the blouse. He made a mental -note of the fact that from now on there would be no more standing -watches in sweatshirt and sneakers. He also reflected sadly on the many -pleasure jaunts that Scott was wont to let him make in the _Darkside's_ -skeeter-boat, and bade a mental farewell to those happy moments. The -set of the Commodore's long jaw instilled more respect for Space Force -Regs in the young reservist than all the ten orientation lectures -he had received at Hamilton Spaceport. Plainly there was a new era -beginning for the TRS _Darkside_! - -There wasn't a man on board who hadn't heard of Hartnett, of course. A -gambler in combat, he had always managed to come out ahead of the game. -His record was the record of practically every major achievement of the -Force. Most of it could be read from the four rows of ribbons under his -Command Pilot's sunburst. - -There was the pale blue of the Terran Honor Medal that he'd won by -ramming a Martian dreadnaught of the Diemos class with his crippled -corvette off Io in the first Cat war. There was the red bar of the DSM -received for leading the first deep-space expedition to reach Ariel -and Oberon in the Uranian system ... that, before Blake had been born. -And the rainbow colored ribbon of the old UN patrol, the First Martian -Victory Medal, the Venerian Exploratory Medal, the Spatial Cross; four -rows of them ending up with the General Service and Martian Occupation -Ribbon. - -To say, that it impressed the _Darkside's_ green personnel would be an -understatement. The decorations showed Hartnett to be the gambler ... -the lucky gambler ... that he was said to be. - -All the way out to Luna Base from Hamilton Spaceport, the crew of the -flagship had been muttering about the "damned brass-hat" who was going -to disrupt the pleasant life of their beloved ship with his unwanted, -high-ranking, stinking, presence, but the iron-hard reality of the man -and the aura of confidence that emanated from him as he stood on the -steel deck of the Control, spiked their guns too quickly. From the -moments Hartnett stepped aboard, reflected Commander Scott bitterly, -the ship tightened up. From here on in it was Hartnett's ship and there -wasn't a damn thing anyone could do about it. - - * * * * * - -Introductions were short and to the point. Most of the ship's officers -had met Hartnett's staff at the Base Officer's Club after the Captain's -Council, where the commanders of the four ships that made up Flotilla -Blue Three had met their Commodore for the first time. Scott sighed as -he thought of the evident relief on Lieutenant Morrow's face when he -had found that the flagship was to be the _Darkside_ and not his own -ship, the _Lysander_. - -"That Hartnett will take over your ship, Scott," Morrow had told him. -"He can't help it. From the moment he steps aboard, it'll be his baby." -And Hartnett was a gambler.... - -Scott presented his officers to the Commodore almost jealously, -starting with the Executive, Lieutenant Commander Chavez and Lieutenant -Horowitz, the Tactical Physicist; and ending up with Ensign Blake, the -Junior Gunnery Officer, who was startled from his nervous fidgeting by -the sound of his name. - -"A reservist," was Hartnett's only comment, and though it was said in -a friendly tone, Blake flushed furiously and wondered if it stuck like -straw out of his ears. - -"Mr. Blake is the Charles Blake who won the New York to Ley City -amateur skeeter-boat race last year, Sir," explained Scott. - -The Commodore nodded vaguely, his eyes wandering over the burnished -chrome and steel of the Control panels. "Good sport, small ship racing, -Mr. Blake," he commented. - -Blake's cherubic face burst into smiles. "The best sir!" - -Hartnett's men were presented to the ship's commander more as a -formality than anything else, as he had met them before. Thorne, a full -Commander, was Flotilla Astrogator, Wilson and Orsov, Lieutenants, -were Flotilla Gunnery Officers, James, a jaygee, was Flotilla Signals -Officer, and Ensign Ward, a thin boy about Blake's age, was the -Commodore's Aide. He sported his single silver augilette proudly. - -They didn't seem a bad lot, reflected Scott grudgingly. Maybe they -wouldn't get in the way too much. - -"We can lift ship as soon as convenient, Mr. Scott," said Hartnett, -issuing his first order. - -"Aye, sir." - -Hartnett turned to his staff. "Get yourselves below and sort yourselves -out. Try not to take up too much room." As they vanished down the ramp, -he turned to take a seat at the visiplates. - -Scott was taking a time check from the Tower Control, and the signalmen -were relaying the lift-ship order to the three other ships of Blue -Three. Outside on the airless field, the amber warning lights were -spinning on the Tower mast, warning the spacesuited maintenance crews -away from the blast pits. - -Chavez was snapping orders into the intercom and the _Darkside_ was -awaking to activity smoothly. Five shielded decks below Control, -Chief Jetman Collins and the black-gang were busily removing -the seals from the cadmium dampers in the blast chambers. The -"three-minutes-to-lift-ship" alarm blared and the lights dimmed, -leaving Control lighted only by the reflected glow of the panel lights. -On the visiplate screen, the slender shapes of the _Lysander_, the -_Argus_ and the fat, ungainly silhouette of the ironically named -_Artemis_ showed clearly in the earthlight. - -The _Artemis_, thought Hartnett, was the only weak link in his command. -The other three ships were modern, but the _Artemis_ was an ancient -alcohol burner, converted to atomics and pressed into service by the -exigencies of an undeclared and treacherous war. - -At best, she could stand no more than 5 Terran Gs and the rest of the -Flotilla would be forced to keep to her reduced speed throughout the -cruise. Her armament was lighter and her armor thinner than it should -be. In fact, she was strictly Cat meat if she should ever be forced to -stand and fight. And if they intercepted any Cats, that is exactly what -she would have to do, since she was the only ship of Blue Three that -could not outrun any comparable Martian ship. - -Scott was giving his orders now, eyes fastened on the master -chronometer. Hartnett was pleased to see that he did so without a -sidelong look at his superior. He knew his business and did it. Good. -Then Hartnett could stick to handling Blue Three and worrying about the -_Artemis_ without thought of how the ship under him was being managed. - -He slipped into his G-Suit and plugged the lines into an outlet on the -side of his chair. The second hand swept up the face of the dial, and -Scott hit the firing studs. Far below, Jetman Collins removed the -dampers from the main blast chambers. - - * * * * * - -The takeoff was strictly routine for the Luna Base personnel. The -four ships of the Flotilla rose from the pits on their long tails of -radioactive flame, setting the outside Geiger counters to clucking -wildly and outlining in vivid relief the three dreadnaughts that lay in -their careening berths and the dozen or so smaller ships on the line. -Under 3 Terran Gs of acceleration, Flotilla Blue Three was soon lost in -the ebony sky. For just an instant there was the vaguest suggestion of -four racing shadows on the blue-green disk of the gibbous Terra that -hung low in the heavens, and then nothing. The airless silence of Luna -Base continued unbroken. - -In the sheathed Control Tower, the Operations Officer made ready to go -off watch. He was thinking of a few drinks and a girl and maybe a thick -steak down in Ley City. Wonderful place, Ley City ... even in wartime. - -The door burst open, but it was not his relief. It was a breathless -yeoman of signals. He held a sheaf of papers in his hand. - -"Has Blue Three lifted, sir? Cryptographing sent me with this." - -"Damn! They're well out by this time Reilly." He indicated the radar -screen that showed four rapidly moving pips already heading into deep -space. - -The yeoman handed him the papers without a word. - -"What kept you?" The officer demanded angrily. - -Reilly looked at his superior reproachfully. "I made it from Crypto in -forty seconds flat, sir. Couldn't come any faster!" - -"Dammit! Now we'll have to put this on tight beam and scramble it. -Intelligence suspects the Cats have cracked our cipher!" - -He sat down at the scrambler and began to type. - - "COMMODORE CLARE HARTNETT: ABOARD TRS DARKSIDE FLOTILLA BLUE THREE. - PRIORITY MISSION. REPEAT. PRIORITY MISSION. SPATIAL INTELLIGENCE - REPORTS LARGE QUANTITY ISOTOPE X-R REFERENCE 6589-3 CODE BOOK IN - DANGER OF CAPTURE AT METALLURGICAL STATION 9 CHART REFERENCE A-5. - PREVENT AT ALL COSTS. LARGE CONCENTRATION MARTIAN PHOBOS CLASS - CRUISERS AND POSSIBLE SUPERDREADNAUGHT ARMED WITH CYCLOTRONICS IN - VICINITY SEARCHING FOR STATION 9. REPEAT. X-R MUST NOT FALL INTO - MARTIAN HANDS. DESTROY IF NECESSARY. FOR YOUR INFORMATION AND - GUIDANCE INTELLIGENCE SUSPECTS CIPHER TWO HAS BEEN CRACKED BY - MARTIAN CRYPTO. LUCK. DO NOT ACKNOWLEDGE. SIGNED: TORAN LONG, - CAPTAIN, SENIOR CONTROL, LUNA BASE. END MESSAGE." - -Rising, he detached the roll of perforated tape from the scrambler and -fed it into the tight beam transmitter. When the roll was consumed, -Long dropped sullenly into a chair. His relief arrived, but all desire -to partake of the joys of Ley City was gone. Like most of the old -timers he admired Hartnett immensely, and he could not rid himself -of the feeling that he was in some way responsible for sending the -fabulous spaceman into sure destruction. - -Against the ten known cruisers and the suspected superdreadnaught that -were searching that quadrant for the illusive Station 9, the strength -of Flotilla Blue Three was sadly inadequate. - -If the message had arrived earlier, a dreadnaught or at least a couple -of cruisers could have been despatched with Hartnett's force. But the -impossibility of a rendezvous in space made it strictly the Commodore's -baby now. Besides, Terra had no ships to spare. Hartnett would have to -rescue the three technicians at the Station and destroy the Isotope X-R -with no help. - -The Cats didn't know what X-R was, but they wanted to find out awfully -badly if their concentration of strength in the Uranus quadrant was any -indication. And it wouldn't be very long before they found that the -mysterious Station 9 was on Oberon, either. With more than eleven ships -prowling around, they wouldn't miss such an obvious bet for very much -longer. All Hartnett had to do now was sneak through their screen, -land a ship on Oberon, take the technicians off, destroy the X-R, and -get away again without being seen because the _Artemis_ couldn't fight! -Long groaned. That's all! - -Oh, why, he wondered, wouldn't Terrans learn? An ancient leader of -Terra's nationalist era had said it perfectly for them. Speak softly, -he had said, but carry a big stick! Why wouldn't they listen? - -He shook his head and left the Control Tower wearily. - -"What's eating him?" asked the relief. - -"He's just sent Blue Three into the Uranus quadrant," replied Reilly. - -The relief gave a low whistle and turned to look out over the earthlit -moonscape. "Too bad." - - * * * * * - -Hartnett caught the Commander's eye as he worked at the control board. - -"Sorry to crowd you like this, Mr. Scott," he said. - -"It's nothing at all, sir. It's a pleasure to have you aboard." Even -as he said it, Scott realized how stupid it must sound. Of course it -crowded him to have Hartnett aboard and it annoyed him being the second -ranking officer on his own ship. - -Commodore Hartnett smiled at the Commander's words. There was hardly -anything else he could say, poor devil. Rank has its privileges, -he thought. But he said: "Glad you feel that way," and fell silent -watching Scott and the Quartermaster guide the ship through the first -stages of acceleration. - -Scott felt he should say something more, but he wasn't at all sure just -what. Finally he said, "We've only an hour or so more of acceleration, -sir. If there's anything you want tied down in your cabin, you'd best -notify Mr. Ward. The _Darkside_ has no gravitators." - -"The cabin will be in order, Mr. Scott," replied Hartnett casually, "My -staff and I are all destroyer men." - -Scott cursed himself for an idiot and mumbled an apology, but the -Commodore had let the incident pass with a half hidden smile and was -inspecting the orbital calculators at the far wing of the Control panel. - -The voice of Lieutenant Morse, Astrogation Officer, saved Scott any -further embarassment. The communicator buzzed and Scott closed the -switch. - -"Control here!" he snapped, a bit too crisply. - -"Astrogation. We'll be at the boundary of our inner patrol zone at 2335 -Sidereal, sir." - -Scott looked over at Hartnett. "Any orders, sir?" - -The Commodore shook his head. "Just have the other ships maintain -visual contact. Particularly the _Artemis_. The _Lysander_ can take the -rear position. Have me called in my cabin if anything comes up before -then. See you in the wardroom at dinner. Carry on, Mr. Scott." - -He left Scott feeling sorry for his friend, Tom Drew, who commanded -Blue Three's lame duck, the beloved _Artemis_. - - * * * * * - -Striding down the ramp, the Commodore came to the main gun-deck and -headed aft, past the banks of five inchers and torpedo tubes that lined -the inner shell. The gun crews stood respectfully as he walked past -them and returned young Blake's sharp salute. Hartnett restrained a -smile and continued down to the cabin deck. - -Ensign Ward was unpacking his gear as he came through the valve, -and listening to a commercial broadcast on short wave that crackled -and faded with the vagaries of Terra's faraway heavyside layer. The -reports, pieced together, gave a fairly comprehensive picture of the -fighting that was going on in the Uranian quadrant. - -"I don't like the way things are going, sir," said Ward. - -Hartnett didn't either, but he could see no point in saying so. -Besides, the Flotilla's patrol area was on the other side of the sun -from Uranus, and the news there was bad enough to give him food for -thought. - -"I won't need you for a bit, Ward. Take off and get yourself settled," -he suggested. - -The aide saluted and left. Hartnett stripped off his blouse and shirt -and settled himself comfortably on the acceleration bunk. He switched -on the bank of solar lamps and let the warm rays sooth and relax his -tired muscles. The tension of many harrowing days in the Pentagon began -to leave him, and he felt a great pity for the desk-bound VIP who could -not know the joy of a ship under them in deep space. Thank God he got -past the last physical. They were getting tougher every patrol! - -The radio was still on and as the news reports came in, his restless -mind turned to consider the unfortunate tactical situation in which the -Terran Space Force now found itself. - -It was the old democratic failing. God Bless it! As old as Terra's -history. Ship for ship and man for man the Terran Forces were better -than the Martian. Terrans shot faster and straighter. Terran ships flew -farther and faster. And Terra, for all its failings, was a free world -fighting for a free space. But the Cats had more ships and a hell of a -lot less reluctance about using them to enslave everybody in sight. - - * * * * * - -The first Martian war had ended the squabbling confederation of -sovereign states that had been the UN. And the Martian war had brought -about in five short years the advancement of space-flight that might -otherwise have taken decades. It was ironic that the peace-loving -peoples of the Universe always seemed to produce better under the harsh -goad of war. The nastier the war the more magnificent the achievements. -Hartnett wondered if that were not a very significant commentary on the -true nature of the human organism. - -But in the first Cat war the Solar System had been faced with the -unfortunate situation of two races developing interplanetary flight -within a decade of each other ... and both starting out to proselytize -their own peculiar institutions among the outposts of the System. A -clash was inevitable ... and Terra won the narrow margin of victory by -a more comprehensive understanding of material science. While the war -had begun with chemical fueled ships and bombs, it had ended up with -atomic powered ships and proton cannon. - -The primitive ships of the war's beginning were still vivid memories to -Hartnett. He had spent many months in them, suffering the effects of -free-fall for weeks while they coasted in half-computed orbits around -the sun. The people of Terra had long had atomics, but it was not until -the third year of war that a method had been found to utilize the power -of the atom for a space drive. In those days a ship did not dare even -a perihelion passage, for fear the terrible heat of the sun would -detonate their precious reserves of fuel. Things were different now. - -Ward reentered the room abruptly. "Message from Luna Control, sir," -he said, passing over the note. "Came on tight beam, coded, and -scrambled," he added unnecessarily. - -The Commodore read it over slowly and pursed his lips. He swung his -legs over the side of the bunk and reached for the intercom. "Control." - -"Control here," came the reply. - -"Stand by for a change of course. Be with you in a moment." - -There was a moment of surprised silence, and then: "Aye, sir." - -Hartnett turned to his aide. "Reach me that space-bag, will you Ward? -That's the one. Fish out Code Book 6589 and the A chart. That's the -deal." - - * * * * * - -Hartnett's staff and all of the _Darkside's_ officers not actually -on watch assembled in the wardroom on the Commodore's orders. The -Flotilla had already come about and was heading sunward, its steady -acceleration of 3 Gs aided by gravity. Already, Greys had been packed -away in deference to the rising temperature, and all hands were clad in -fiberglass shorts and jumpers. - -The assembled officers rose when the Commodore entered the room and he -waved them back to their seats, taking a chair at the head of the mess -table. - -"Mr. Scott," he began without preamble, "What do you know about the new -Cat superdreadnaughts?" - -"Very little, sir. I have heard that they are the biggest thing -in space ... although I don't believe they have more than one in -service right now. The other two of that class were photographed by a -photo-recon skeeter out of the _Gorgon_ a week before we lifted ship. I -saw the prints." - -"What about armament?" asked the Flotilla Gunnery Officer, Wilson. - -Scott shrugged. "We know very little about that. Mr. Horowitz could -tell you more. I understand they mount some kind of new cyclotronic -rifles." - -"That's correct, sir," replied Horowitz. "I don't know exactly how the -things work, but I could guess that they detonate the heavy metals used -for fuel in atomic powered vessels." - -"Range?" asked Lieutenant Orsov laconically. - -"No information ... but I would be willing to guess that it is not more -than fifty miles no matter how tight their beam. There would be far too -great a voltage loss." - -"Mr. Blake," said Hartnett, "How good are you on the skeeter-boat?" - -Blake looked perplexed, but he answered with some pride that he was -considered quite passable. - -"I'll bear that out, sir," said Scott drily. "Mr. Blake is something of -a hotshot pilot." - -"Good enough," returned Hartnett. "We'll see when we near Station 9." -He looked over at Blake. "Do you think you can land a skeeter there and -take off three passengers without arousing the Cats?" - -"A skeeter is only meant for three people, sir, and four would be quite -an overload," protested Blake. - -"It will have to be done. If we try to land a ship there, every Cat in -the quadrant will be on our necks. It's either the skeeter, or ..." he -shrugged expressively. - -"If we strip the boat down and remove all unnecessary mass it should -do," suggested Orsov. "What do you think, Blake?" - -Blake gulped. To strip the skeeter would mean removing all armor and -guns. "I ... uh...." He squared his shoulders and grinned sheepishly. -"It would," he declared finally. - -"Good," said the Commodore. - -"Just where is this Station 9, sir?" asked Morse. - -Hartnett ignored the question, but by way of answer, he turned to his -Flotilla Astrogator, Thorne and asked: "Do you remember the analysis of -Oberon's surface, Thorne?" - -"Vaguely. All four of the Uranian satellites are composed mainly of -pitchblende and similar ores. Heavy metals. Very dense. I happen to -remember because it's one of the coincidences of astronomy that the -planet itself was given the name Uranus before the discovery that the -whole of its system was lousy with uranium ores." - -"What else can you tell us about it?" - -"Well, Oberon is small ... about 800 miles in diameter. Ariel and -Titania are about 1,000 and 600 respectively, and Umbriel is the baby -at about 400 miles. Much of Terra's uranium was brought in from Titania -back in the days of U-235 bombs and so forth. They are abandoned now." - -"Gentlemen," said Hartnett, facing the others seriously. "There are ten -Martian cruisers and a superdreadnaught in the vicinity of Oberon and -Ariel ... you may have guessed by this time that our mysterious Station -9 is on Oberon. My orders are to rescue the three technicians and -destroy their samples of Isotope X-R, which is, I understand, a very -unstable Isotope of plutonium. - -"If we could ... in some way ... destroy the bulk of the Cat strength -in the Uranus system, it would be a great step forward toward the -successful conclusion of this war that is still young enough to have -killed relatively few people." - -Scott looked around at his officers and read plain astonishment on -their faces. To talk of destroying such a Martian fleet with four tiny -ships was madness! - -"The rescue of the Station personnel will be handled by Mr. Blake and -the skeeter-boat. And ... if the plan I have works out properly, the -destruction of the enemy fleet will be handled by ... one ship alone." -He looked around the table with the vaguest suggestion of a grin on his -leathery face. He nodded his head at Scott. "You're quite right, Mr. -Scott, the _Artemis_." - - * * * * * - -Scott paced furiously up and down the steel deck of the dark Control. -Chavez sat before the panels, his saturnine face wreathed in demon-like -curls of blue smoke from the short, black, Mexican cheroot he smoked so -lovingly. - -"You should have heard him!" exclaimed Scott, "Standing there and -calmly telling us that we are going to destroy the Cat fleet with the -_Artemis_! Booby trap 'em, he says! Chav, I tell you he's gone looney!" - -Chavez shrugged and smoothed his hairline moustache. "Quien sabe?" - -"What the hell do you mean 'Quien sabe!' Are you trying to tell me -you're thinking he can do it?" - -The Latin smiled, showing animal white teeth. "I understand he's done -a lot of things that people said weren't possible. Personally, I should -be very glad if he did what he says so we could all get back to Ley -City. Amigo, I have a little friend back on Luna that is." He smiled -dreamily and kissed his fingertips. - -"I think you're all going crazy. It's just having that man aboard." - -"Ah, Ah!" cautioned Chavez, "Remember all those beautiful silver -stripes." - -"Well, damn the lot of you. I just hope we get the _Darkside_ back to -Luna Base and your little...." He made an angry parody of Chavez's -romantic gesture. - -"We'll get back, I think, Mr. Scott," said a casual voice from the -Valve. The Commodore was standing in the arch, outlined against the -ramp light. He stepped into Control and took a seat beside Chavez at -the panels. - -Scott and Chavez maintained an embarrassed silence. Hartnett looked up -to study the now receding solar disk through the tinted visiplate. The -Flotilla was now heading once again for deep space. - -It was a few moments before Hartnett spoke. When he did, it was a -command directed at Scott. - -"Mr. Scott, the Flotilla will land for certain necessary readjustments -on Hyperion. See that the other vessels are properly notified." Then he -rose and left the Control. - -Scott dropped unhappily into a chair. He looked at Chavez. "Well, Mr. -Chavez. How do you think you will enjoy command of the _Darkside_?" - -Chavez laid a friendly hand on his commander's sleeve. "I don't think -he'd take your ship from you just because...." - -"Skip it, Chav!" snapped Scott and he left the Control in peevish -silence. - - * * * * * - -Sixty hours later Blue Three lay grounded in a jagged little valley -on airless Hyperion. Spacesuited figures swarmed about the clustered -ships transferring personnel from the _Artemis_ to the other ships, and -rigging special television, remote control, and other apparatus in the -_Artemis_. - -Hartnett stood beneath the _Darkside's_ ventral valve on the metallic -soil of the little moon with Chavez and Orsov watching the progress -of the work. Lieutenant Morrow of the _Lysander_ and Lieutenant Griggs -of the _Argus_ joined them and stood in silence while the last of the -_Artemis'_ personnel was transferred into the _Darkside_. Tom Drew, the -commander of the _Artemis_ stood sadly apart watching the spacemen make -a ghost ship of his command. - -On the eastern horizon, Saturn was rising into a black sky studded with -points of fiery brilliance. Quickly the ringed planet climbed into the -sky and flooded the tortured landscape of Hyperion with light. The men -at the _Darkside's_ valve stood watching the show of celestial grandeur -in awe. Orsov, for all his deep-space experience, could not help but -feel a twinge of vertigo as he looked up into the haloed face of the -heavenly giant that filled a quarter of the inverted bowl of ebony that -the heavens had become. - -Everyone was relieved to lift ship, however, for the thought of being -caught grounded by any roving Martian spaceship was not pleasant to -contemplate. Atomic bombs had long been obsolete, but one such would -certainly suffice to exterminate four grounded spacecraft. Then too, -they were all glad to get away from the glaring spectre that so eerily -filled too much of the sky ... the ringed Saturn had a hypnotic effect -that left a man shaken. - -In the Control of the _Darkside_ Chavez whispered to Scott: "We were -thinking that you were going to lose the _Darky_ ... and it turns out -that poor old Drew is the one who lost his command." - -"He should be glad to get rid of it." - -"But what," asked Chavez, "is the old man going to do with her?" - -Scott shrugged and spoke succinctly. "Bait." His spirits had risen -considerably when Hartnett had left him in command of the _Darkside_, -contrary to his expectations. He reflected somewhat ruefully that it -did a man good to have a scare thrown into him from time to time. Even -now, rapidly approaching a quadrant heavy with Cat warships, he could -feel contented in merely feeling his beloved tin can responding under -his hands on the control panels. - -A thousand yards behind and astern, the unmanned _Artemis_ followed -the _Darkside_ like a dog on a leash, its myriad functions controlled -by an invisible chain of subetheric impulses from jerry-rigged remote -controls on the _Darkside's_ gun-deck. - -In the faint light of the faraway sun, where the irrepressible Blake -had sloshed paint on her flank, gleamed the legend: BOOBY TRAP. - -Like shadows, the four ships of Flotilla Blue Three slipped through the -patrol cordons of the Martian Space Force. In the infinite vastnesses -of the interplanetary deeps they were unnoticed. Blast tubes silent, -guided only by the ever increasing gravitational attraction of mammoth -Uranus, and the reaction of whining gyroscopes. - -Beneath them, its greenish disk ever increasing, lay Uranus ... cold, -harsh, forbidding. The thick atmosphere of methane and ammonia lay in -great turbulent belts, whipped to maniacal fury by the eternal storms -that swept the unguessable surface of the ghastly planet. - - * * * * * - -Blake shivered slightly as the skeeter-valve of the _Darkside_ closed -soundlessly behind him and the blackness of the void closed in about -the tiny boat. For just an instant, the familiar shape of the destroyer -loomed comfortingly in the faint light of the dwarfed sun, and then it -was gone, and he was falling away towards the mystery shrouded world -that lay beneath him. The very size of the disk was frightening. A huge -swirling mass 30,000 miles across seemed to be drawing him inexorably -into its gassy body. - -With an effort he settled himself down in the control chair and patted -the tattered pin-up picture on the panel before him. It was a bit of -Terra far from home, and the simple act gave him courage. This was -certainly different from the Terra-Luna flights he had so often made -alone ... this was different. He grinned to himself and spoke aloud the -phrase made famous by ten thousand generations of actors and hacks. -This, he declaimed, is _it_! - -Quickly now, he set up the constants for Oberon and pressed the firing -stud. There was a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach as the -skeeter came alive and the vast disk of Uranus vanished from the -forward vision ports. Speed was essential now. His trail would not mark -the place of the Flotilla, but it surely would arouse the sharp eyes -of the Cats who must be nearby. He pressed the second stud and the -skeeter leaped ahead. The accelerometer stood at 7 Terran Gs. By long -practice he could stand 11 ... and the skeeter ... stripped and souped -up ... could produce 20. Far too many. - -He set the seat to prone position. Maybe he could squeeze an extra -one out of it now. 12 G! He gave the skeeter more power and the stars -seemed to go into a crazy dance as his vision started to fail. Enough. - -Thirty minutes of terrific speed and still no sign of the Cats. The -tiny, dark disc of Oberon grew with alarming rapidity in the port. He -began to decelerate so fast that he nearly blacked out again. Damn! -Below him the tiny moon lay barren and bizarre in the greenish glow of -its huge primary. - -The mushroom shaped huts of the metallurgical station were directly -below him and he swung the skeeter into a wild approach that would -have given his rocket instructor heart failure, but the boat held -together and settled to the surface of the tiny spaceport with a -crunch. Without waiting even for the surrounding soil to cool, Blake -was out of the ship and clumping clumsily toward the distant huts. The -terrific density of Oberon made the gravity almost normal. Three suited -figures appeared from the valves and began to run grotesquely toward -him. He waved them back and began shouting instructions at them on -the photophone. The infrared lamps on the top of the helmets blinked -eagerly in answer. Then quickly the four men vanished into the storage -hut and set feverishly to work. - - * * * * * - -Control was lit only by the red battle lamps. Lines were strung -along the walls and through the valves, and Scott, Chavez, and the -Quartermaster sat strapped at the panels. The ship was in a free -falling orbit around Uranus, its sister ships and the ghost ship, -_Artemis_, following her lead like huge beads on an invisible string. -The orbit could not be broken until Blake returned with the Station -technicians. All hands sat in nervous silence at GQ while the Flotilla -hung dead in space. - -Commodore Hartnett came through the valve from the gun-deck. There was -a flimsy in his hand and he pulled himself along the guide-line with -some difficulty. - -"Mr. Scott," he rapped out. The waiting was taking its toll of his -nerves as well as the other's. "Mr. Scott. You will break radio silence -and transmit this message immediately. Unscrambled and in Code Two." - -The men at the panels stiffened in surprise. So far they had managed to -avoid arousing the prowling Cats ... but now this! - -"Sir," protested Scott, "You surely can't mean to break radio silence -with young Blake down there!" - -It was hard for a man to look dignified floating in midair ... but -somehow Hartnett managed it. "It's an order, Mr. Scott." - -Scott flushed angrily. A gambler! Damn you, he thought! But he bit his -lip and reached for the message. "Yes, sir." - -Hartnett remained behind him as he rang for communications. - -"Communications here!" - -"Stand by to transmit." - -"Spread beam," ordered Hartnett. - -Scott cursed silently. "Spread beam." - -"Aye, aye, Sir...." The voice of the radioman sounded strangled. - -Scott read from the flimsy in a flat voice, a note of astonishment -creeping in as he finished the message. - - "TORAN LONG, SENIOR CONTROL, LUNA BASE. AM STANDING BY OFF OBERON - READY TO LOAD ISOTOPE X-R ON BOARD DESTROYER "ARTEMIS" HAVE NOT MET - THE ENEMY AND HAVE SUFFERED NO CASUALTIES. ONE AUXILIARY TUBE ON - THE "ORION" HAS BLOWN BUT THE "JOVE" AND "MINERVA" ARE STANDING BY - TO EFFECT EMERGENCY REPAIRS. HAVE DOCK SPACE AVAILABLE FOR REPAIR - OF "ORION" L PLUS 21 2235 SIDEREAL. SIGNED C. HARTNETT COMMODORE - RED SIX. END MESSAGE." - -Scott wondered wildly if Hartnett had not suddenly lost his mind. Red -Six was the Code name for the Task Force that included five Terran -dreadnaughts, and the part about the blown tube and the repairs added -up to just so much lunacy. The Cats had the cipher ... there wasn't -much doubt of that, and had Hartnett invited every Martian captain in -the quadrant to come blasting down on them with all tubes blowing, he -couldn't have phrased it better! - -Leaving the stunned Scott to ponder his strange madness, Commodore -Hartnett hurried down into the cluttered gun-deck. Drew, at the remote -controls of the _Artemis_, was ready for action when he arrived. Time -was important now, thought Hartnett. - -"Now get that can down there ... and fast!" - -Drew and his men went into action, and the _Artemis_ vanished from the -string of beads and plunged toward Oberon ... an empty and forlorn -bait for a trap whose jaws were beginning to close as from all over -the quadrant, Cat warships converged on Oberon ... their vaunted -superdreadnaught in the lead. - -Twenty minutes after _Artemis_ left the Flotilla, the radioactive -streaks of the first Martian cruisers showed in the sky 15,000 miles -away. - - * * * * * - -Blake and the three technicians from Station 9 huddled in the careening -skeeter-boat. They were almost on top of the Martian superdreadnaught -before they saw it. For just a fleeting instant it seemed to fill all -of space, and then it was gone. The Cats on board paid no attention to -a tiny boat that they imagined to be the survivor of the battle that -must have already begun off Oberon. But Blake paled at the very size -and might of the craft. From what he had seen of it it would take much -heavier stuff than the _Darkside_ carried to dent that monster! - -Then they were nearing the _Darkside_ and Blake had his hands full -threading the skeeter back into the valve that yawned black as he drew -near. Once aboard, he slipped through the sighing valves and into -the boat deck. A steward came to take charge of the passengers, and -Blake hurried up to the gun-deck that had been transformed into the -extra-corporeal brain of the doomed _Artemis_. - -Hartnett looked up from his work to grunt at him: "Did you do what I -told you to do?" - -Blake grinned, "Yes, sir. All the stuff is buried in the storage -chambers directly under the pits ... the ones that are used to store -the coolants." - -"Good enough." He rang for Control. "Have we been sighted yet?" - -"No, sir," came Chavez' voice. "But the Cats are gathering thick and -fast." - -Blake told Hartnett about the mammoth superdreadnaught, and the older -man smiled. "We'll see if we can't give them something for their -trouble." He turned back to the communicator. "Chavez, see to it that -we maintain a mean distance from Oberon of at least 25,000 miles. And -have all the screens in place." - -"Aye, Sir." - -"_Artemis_ is down, Sir," reported Drew. - -Hartnett turned to look into the visiplates. The derelict ship had -landed nicely on the spaceport near the metallurgical station. He -nodded with satisfaction. At least the blast of her tubes hadn't -detonated the pile. He looked into a sky plate and saw that she had not -landed a minute too soon. - -Two Martian cruisers, their black shapes dark against the starry sky, -were hanging low over her. Others circled behind them, and higher -than all the others, Hartnett could make out the huge shape of the -superdreadnaught that Blake had seen. That was the one he wanted! - -For perhaps twenty minutes the Martians hung suspiciously over the -still landscape of Oberon. Then a cruiser detached itself and began to -sink down towards the spaceport on a long, slowly diminishing column of -flame. - -Hartnett swore. They were going to try and land! That wouldn't do at -all. He had to goad them into attacking. He snapped an order to Drew. -Only one of the _Artemis'_ proton cannon was connected with the remote -control apparatus in the _Darkside_ but Hartnett hoped it would be -enough. It had to be. - -Taking the gun control himself, he swung the sight so that it pointed -at the lowest cruiser. A flash of energy sizzled from the projector, -and spattered on the exposed flank of the Cat cruiser throwing sparks -wildly like the glitter of a child's Fourth of July sparkler. The ship -shuddered under the impact and glowed white hot along the scarred beam. - -Like a speeded up motion picture shot, the Cat ship leaped away from -the spaceport, leveling its own guns at the recumbent _Artemis_. The -men in the _Darkside_ caught a glimpse of the other ships bearing -their projectors, and far above, Hartnett was elated to see that the -superdreadnaught had extended the muzzles of its massive cyclotronic -rifles. - -The cruisers fired first, and the screens went blank, so the Terrans -never saw the rest of it. But up in the darkened Control Chavez and -Scott were witnesses to one of the greatest cataclysms men have ever -seen. - -The tiny disk of Oberon seemed to light up with a white fire; swelling -like a glowing balloon and then shattering with a violence that left -them speechless. The very atmosphere of Uranus under the low swinging -moonlet boiled and billowed with a frightful incandescence, great -prominences of radioactivated methane spouting high into the air as the -very internal balance of the great planet teetered. - -A shock-wave of corruscating fire shot out from the blazing surface -of Oberon, engulfing the Martian warships in a sea of spinning, -scintillating destruction. Like a tiny nova, the satellite flared in -the black silence of deep space, vaporizing everything within ten -thousand miles of it; churning the very vacuum into a hell of hard -radiation. - -Scott stared at the outside Geiger counters as they chattered their -story of charged ions and electrons battering, even at this distance, -at sheathing in the destroyer's hull. - -Hartnett's shouted order to "... get the hell out of here!" was -strictly unnecessary. By the time he had issued it, the remaining three -ships of Blue Three were piling on Gs in the direction of Terra. - -Though no one stayed to look at it, the sight of the remnants of Oberon -forming into a thin ring around the grumbling Uranus must have been -quite impressive. - - * * * * * - -Ten hours from Luna Base, Flotilla Blue Three's officers had assembled -for a victory dinner in the wardroom. The last course was cleared away, -and Chavez passed a quantity of his precious cheroots around. - -He settled himself down beside Scott and dragged happily at his smoke. - -It was Blake who burst out with the question that was on everyone's -mind. - -Commodore Hartnett smiled. "It was Horowitz who really doped the -thing out, gentlemen. I just put the plan into operation. You see, -plutonium can be used as a sort of booster charge in a chain reaction -explosion ... you all know that. You, yourself, Blake, and you men from -the station moved the stuff into a spot that would be directly under -the poor old _Artemis_ when the shooting started. - -"You youngsters don't remember much about land warfare, so it was -up to me to rig the trap. The bait was _Artemis_. The teaser was -the spread-beam radio message about the three dreadnaughts that we -aren't.... Remember that, Mr. Scott?" - -Scott blushed furiously and nodded. - -"Well," continued Hartnett, "It was something of a gamble, I suppose. -But the odds were long and the chances weren't too bad. - -"You all know how anxious the Cats are to try something new. Those -cyclotronic rifles must have been literally burning a hole in their -pockets ... and the range was short ... they couldn't resist the -temptation to try them. If they had stuck to proton guns they would -have melted _Artemis_ down and that would have been the end of -it ... they would have had the X-R to do with as they pleased. But -they got itchy fingers with the new stuff ... as I prayed they would. -Curiosity, I suppose. The feline instinct. Have you ever seen a cat -trying to open a package? Same kind of people. - -"The rest was just a repetition of the atom blasts of the first -Martian War and the earlier wars on Terra. The only difference was -the size of the bomb. The cyclotrons set off the chain reaction in -the plutonium ... the plutonium set off the reaction in the U-235 ... -common enough on a world made practically all of pitchblende and other -Uranium compounds. The same thing could happen to ... say Terra ... if -we ever started a chain reaction in one of the commoner elements such -as iron, or carbon. Or even one of the commoner gases. Anyway there are -only three satellites in the Uranian System now ... and eight less Cat -cruisers and one less superdreadnaught. I suspect the Cats can hardly -afford to lose them, too. Wouldn't surprise me to hear that Mars has -been feeling around for an armistice even by the time we get home. The -very fact that they have no idea how their fleet was destroyed will -tickle them in the right place, I suppose." - -Scott spoke in surprised tones. "So they blew themselves up with their -own fancy cannon." - -Hartnett nodded reflectively. "Um ... that's about it. Of course we had -to set up the proper conditions." He grinned at the younger man. "Or, -you might say, the 'Booby Trap'...." - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PREVIEW OF PERIL *** - -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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If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Preview Of Peril</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Alfred Coppel</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 09, 2021 [eBook #64244]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PREVIEW OF PERIL ***</div> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>PREVIEW OF PERIL</h1> - -<h2>By ALFRED COPPEL, Jr.</h2> - -<p><i>Like shadows, the four ships of Flotilla<br /> -Blue Three slipped through the patrol cordon<br /> -of the powerful Martian Space Force. Only<br /> -the crazy luck of their mad, medal-bedecked<br /> -Commodore would ever get them out again.</i></p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories September 1953.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>The Second Martian War was three weeks old when the officers of the -Terran destroyer <i>Darkside</i> found themselves assembled in Control and -glumly aware that the Flotilla Commodore was sizing them up. It was -hard to tell just what he was thinking, but whatever it was they had -made up their minds to return it doubled in spades.</p> - -<p>Having a Flotilla Commodore on board was actually a hardship, -particularly if as in the case of the <i>Darkside</i>—the ship elected was -unsuitable for a flagship. The Commodore needed cabin space for himself -and for his staff, and that meant that five of the <i>Darkside's</i> nine -officers would have to double up on what space was left. On board a -destroyer that meant a good deal. But more important yet was the moral -effect on the ship's company.</p> - -<p>With a flag officer on board the easy life of an informal vessel would -vanish and something of the formality of a big ship would take its -place. The officers and crew would feel themselves under the scrutiny -of higher authority no matter how hard the Commodore tried not to -interfere with the working of the ship. And it naturally followed that -the ship's commander would lose some of the joy in his independent -command. Thus a happy ship would become a tight one ... QED. It was a -situation as old as ships and men.</p> - -<p>So there was little joy to be seen in the faces of Commander Scott and -his officers when Commodore Hartnett stepped through the valve followed -by his staff. Nor was their anything about Hartnett's appearance to -suggest that they had been anything but right about the manner in which -Flotilla Blue Three would be handled throughout the coming patrol. The -Commodore was a model of military correctness, a martinet moulded in -two Martian Wars and twenty years in space to a steely hardness that -was disconcerting.</p> - -<p>They saw a lean, leathery man in his late forties, dressed in -immaculate Greys that sported an apalling amount of silver braid. -Four stripes were rare aboard destroyers. Eyes that matched the hard -grey of the uniform glittered in a spaceburned face, shaded by heavy -black brows. Young Ensign Blake's heart sank as he took in the set -of the shoulders and the smooth fit of the blouse. He made a mental -note of the fact that from now on there would be no more standing -watches in sweatshirt and sneakers. He also reflected sadly on the many -pleasure jaunts that Scott was wont to let him make in the <i>Darkside's</i> -skeeter-boat, and bade a mental farewell to those happy moments. The -set of the Commodore's long jaw instilled more respect for Space Force -Regs in the young reservist than all the ten orientation lectures -he had received at Hamilton Spaceport. Plainly there was a new era -beginning for the TRS <i>Darkside</i>!</p> - -<p>There wasn't a man on board who hadn't heard of Hartnett, of course. A -gambler in combat, he had always managed to come out ahead of the game. -His record was the record of practically every major achievement of the -Force. Most of it could be read from the four rows of ribbons under his -Command Pilot's sunburst.</p> - -<p>There was the pale blue of the Terran Honor Medal that he'd won by -ramming a Martian dreadnaught of the Diemos class with his crippled -corvette off Io in the first Cat war. There was the red bar of the DSM -received for leading the first deep-space expedition to reach Ariel -and Oberon in the Uranian system ... that, before Blake had been born. -And the rainbow colored ribbon of the old UN patrol, the First Martian -Victory Medal, the Venerian Exploratory Medal, the Spatial Cross; four -rows of them ending up with the General Service and Martian Occupation -Ribbon.</p> - -<p>To say, that it impressed the <i>Darkside's</i> green personnel would be an -understatement. The decorations showed Hartnett to be the gambler ... -the lucky gambler ... that he was said to be.</p> - -<p>All the way out to Luna Base from Hamilton Spaceport, the crew of the -flagship had been muttering about the "damned brass-hat" who was going -to disrupt the pleasant life of their beloved ship with his unwanted, -high-ranking, stinking, presence, but the iron-hard reality of the man -and the aura of confidence that emanated from him as he stood on the -steel deck of the Control, spiked their guns too quickly. From the -moments Hartnett stepped aboard, reflected Commander Scott bitterly, -the ship tightened up. From here on in it was Hartnett's ship and there -wasn't a damn thing anyone could do about it.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Introductions were short and to the point. Most of the ship's officers -had met Hartnett's staff at the Base Officer's Club after the Captain's -Council, where the commanders of the four ships that made up Flotilla -Blue Three had met their Commodore for the first time. Scott sighed as -he thought of the evident relief on Lieutenant Morrow's face when he -had found that the flagship was to be the <i>Darkside</i> and not his own -ship, the <i>Lysander</i>.</p> - -<p>"That Hartnett will take over your ship, Scott," Morrow had told him. -"He can't help it. From the moment he steps aboard, it'll be his baby." -And Hartnett was a gambler....</p> - -<p>Scott presented his officers to the Commodore almost jealously, -starting with the Executive, Lieutenant Commander Chavez and Lieutenant -Horowitz, the Tactical Physicist; and ending up with Ensign Blake, the -Junior Gunnery Officer, who was startled from his nervous fidgeting by -the sound of his name.</p> - -<p>"A reservist," was Hartnett's only comment, and though it was said in -a friendly tone, Blake flushed furiously and wondered if it stuck like -straw out of his ears.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Blake is the Charles Blake who won the New York to Ley City -amateur skeeter-boat race last year, Sir," explained Scott.</p> - -<p>The Commodore nodded vaguely, his eyes wandering over the burnished -chrome and steel of the Control panels. "Good sport, small ship racing, -Mr. Blake," he commented.</p> - -<p>Blake's cherubic face burst into smiles. "The best sir!"</p> - -<p>Hartnett's men were presented to the ship's commander more as a -formality than anything else, as he had met them before. Thorne, a full -Commander, was Flotilla Astrogator, Wilson and Orsov, Lieutenants, -were Flotilla Gunnery Officers, James, a jaygee, was Flotilla Signals -Officer, and Ensign Ward, a thin boy about Blake's age, was the -Commodore's Aide. He sported his single silver augilette proudly.</p> - -<p>They didn't seem a bad lot, reflected Scott grudgingly. Maybe they -wouldn't get in the way too much.</p> - -<p>"We can lift ship as soon as convenient, Mr. Scott," said Hartnett, -issuing his first order.</p> - -<p>"Aye, sir."</p> - -<p>Hartnett turned to his staff. "Get yourselves below and sort yourselves -out. Try not to take up too much room." As they vanished down the ramp, -he turned to take a seat at the visiplates.</p> - -<p>Scott was taking a time check from the Tower Control, and the signalmen -were relaying the lift-ship order to the three other ships of Blue -Three. Outside on the airless field, the amber warning lights were -spinning on the Tower mast, warning the spacesuited maintenance crews -away from the blast pits.</p> - -<p>Chavez was snapping orders into the intercom and the <i>Darkside</i> was -awaking to activity smoothly. Five shielded decks below Control, -Chief Jetman Collins and the black-gang were busily removing -the seals from the cadmium dampers in the blast chambers. The -"three-minutes-to-lift-ship" alarm blared and the lights dimmed, -leaving Control lighted only by the reflected glow of the panel lights. -On the visiplate screen, the slender shapes of the <i>Lysander</i>, the -<i>Argus</i> and the fat, ungainly silhouette of the ironically named -<i>Artemis</i> showed clearly in the earthlight.</p> - -<p>The <i>Artemis</i>, thought Hartnett, was the only weak link in his command. -The other three ships were modern, but the <i>Artemis</i> was an ancient -alcohol burner, converted to atomics and pressed into service by the -exigencies of an undeclared and treacherous war.</p> - -<p>At best, she could stand no more than 5 Terran Gs and the rest of the -Flotilla would be forced to keep to her reduced speed throughout the -cruise. Her armament was lighter and her armor thinner than it should -be. In fact, she was strictly Cat meat if she should ever be forced to -stand and fight. And if they intercepted any Cats, that is exactly what -she would have to do, since she was the only ship of Blue Three that -could not outrun any comparable Martian ship.</p> - -<p>Scott was giving his orders now, eyes fastened on the master -chronometer. Hartnett was pleased to see that he did so without a -sidelong look at his superior. He knew his business and did it. Good. -Then Hartnett could stick to handling Blue Three and worrying about the -<i>Artemis</i> without thought of how the ship under him was being managed.</p> - -<p>He slipped into his G-Suit and plugged the lines into an outlet on the -side of his chair. The second hand swept up the face of the dial, and -Scott hit the firing studs. Far below, Jetman Collins removed the -dampers from the main blast chambers.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The takeoff was strictly routine for the Luna Base personnel. The -four ships of the Flotilla rose from the pits on their long tails of -radioactive flame, setting the outside Geiger counters to clucking -wildly and outlining in vivid relief the three dreadnaughts that lay in -their careening berths and the dozen or so smaller ships on the line. -Under 3 Terran Gs of acceleration, Flotilla Blue Three was soon lost in -the ebony sky. For just an instant there was the vaguest suggestion of -four racing shadows on the blue-green disk of the gibbous Terra that -hung low in the heavens, and then nothing. The airless silence of Luna -Base continued unbroken.</p> - -<p>In the sheathed Control Tower, the Operations Officer made ready to go -off watch. He was thinking of a few drinks and a girl and maybe a thick -steak down in Ley City. Wonderful place, Ley City ... even in wartime.</p> - -<p>The door burst open, but it was not his relief. It was a breathless -yeoman of signals. He held a sheaf of papers in his hand.</p> - -<p>"Has Blue Three lifted, sir? Cryptographing sent me with this."</p> - -<p>"Damn! They're well out by this time Reilly." He indicated the radar -screen that showed four rapidly moving pips already heading into deep -space.</p> - -<p>The yeoman handed him the papers without a word.</p> - -<p>"What kept you?" The officer demanded angrily.</p> - -<p>Reilly looked at his superior reproachfully. "I made it from Crypto in -forty seconds flat, sir. Couldn't come any faster!"</p> - -<p>"Dammit! Now we'll have to put this on tight beam and scramble it. -Intelligence suspects the Cats have cracked our cipher!"</p> - -<p>He sat down at the scrambler and began to type.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>"COMMODORE CLARE HARTNETT: ABOARD TRS DARKSIDE FLOTILLA BLUE THREE. -PRIORITY MISSION. REPEAT. PRIORITY MISSION. SPATIAL INTELLIGENCE -REPORTS LARGE QUANTITY ISOTOPE X-R REFERENCE 6589-3 CODE BOOK IN -DANGER OF CAPTURE AT METALLURGICAL STATION 9 CHART REFERENCE A-5. -PREVENT AT ALL COSTS. LARGE CONCENTRATION MARTIAN PHOBOS CLASS -CRUISERS AND POSSIBLE SUPERDREADNAUGHT ARMED WITH CYCLOTRONICS IN -VICINITY SEARCHING FOR STATION 9. REPEAT. X-R MUST NOT FALL INTO -MARTIAN HANDS. DESTROY IF NECESSARY. FOR YOUR INFORMATION AND GUIDANCE -INTELLIGENCE SUSPECTS CIPHER TWO HAS BEEN CRACKED BY MARTIAN CRYPTO. -LUCK. DO NOT ACKNOWLEDGE. SIGNED: TORAN LONG, CAPTAIN, SENIOR CONTROL, -LUNA BASE. END MESSAGE."</p></div> - -<p>Rising, he detached the roll of perforated tape from the scrambler and -fed it into the tight beam transmitter. When the roll was consumed, -Long dropped sullenly into a chair. His relief arrived, but all desire -to partake of the joys of Ley City was gone. Like most of the old -timers he admired Hartnett immensely, and he could not rid himself -of the feeling that he was in some way responsible for sending the -fabulous spaceman into sure destruction.</p> - -<p>Against the ten known cruisers and the suspected superdreadnaught that -were searching that quadrant for the illusive Station 9, the strength -of Flotilla Blue Three was sadly inadequate.</p> - -<p>If the message had arrived earlier, a dreadnaught or at least a couple -of cruisers could have been despatched with Hartnett's force. But the -impossibility of a rendezvous in space made it strictly the Commodore's -baby now. Besides, Terra had no ships to spare. Hartnett would have to -rescue the three technicians at the Station and destroy the Isotope X-R -with no help.</p> - -<p>The Cats didn't know what X-R was, but they wanted to find out awfully -badly if their concentration of strength in the Uranus quadrant was any -indication. And it wouldn't be very long before they found that the -mysterious Station 9 was on Oberon, either. With more than eleven ships -prowling around, they wouldn't miss such an obvious bet for very much -longer. All Hartnett had to do now was sneak through their screen, -land a ship on Oberon, take the technicians off, destroy the X-R, and -get away again without being seen because the <i>Artemis</i> couldn't fight! -Long groaned. That's all!</p> - -<p>Oh, why, he wondered, wouldn't Terrans learn? An ancient leader of -Terra's nationalist era had said it perfectly for them. Speak softly, -he had said, but carry a big stick! Why wouldn't they listen?</p> - -<p>He shook his head and left the Control Tower wearily.</p> - -<p>"What's eating him?" asked the relief.</p> - -<p>"He's just sent Blue Three into the Uranus quadrant," replied Reilly.</p> - -<p>The relief gave a low whistle and turned to look out over the earthlit -moonscape. "Too bad."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Hartnett caught the Commander's eye as he worked at the control board.</p> - -<p>"Sorry to crowd you like this, Mr. Scott," he said.</p> - -<p>"It's nothing at all, sir. It's a pleasure to have you aboard." Even -as he said it, Scott realized how stupid it must sound. Of course it -crowded him to have Hartnett aboard and it annoyed him being the second -ranking officer on his own ship.</p> - -<p>Commodore Hartnett smiled at the Commander's words. There was hardly -anything else he could say, poor devil. Rank has its privileges, -he thought. But he said: "Glad you feel that way," and fell silent -watching Scott and the Quartermaster guide the ship through the first -stages of acceleration.</p> - -<p>Scott felt he should say something more, but he wasn't at all sure just -what. Finally he said, "We've only an hour or so more of acceleration, -sir. If there's anything you want tied down in your cabin, you'd best -notify Mr. Ward. The <i>Darkside</i> has no gravitators."</p> - -<p>"The cabin will be in order, Mr. Scott," replied Hartnett casually, "My -staff and I are all destroyer men."</p> - -<p>Scott cursed himself for an idiot and mumbled an apology, but the -Commodore had let the incident pass with a half hidden smile and was -inspecting the orbital calculators at the far wing of the Control panel.</p> - -<p>The voice of Lieutenant Morse, Astrogation Officer, saved Scott any -further embarassment. The communicator buzzed and Scott closed the -switch.</p> - -<p>"Control here!" he snapped, a bit too crisply.</p> - -<p>"Astrogation. We'll be at the boundary of our inner patrol zone at 2335 -Sidereal, sir."</p> - -<p>Scott looked over at Hartnett. "Any orders, sir?"</p> - -<p>The Commodore shook his head. "Just have the other ships maintain -visual contact. Particularly the <i>Artemis</i>. The <i>Lysander</i> can take the -rear position. Have me called in my cabin if anything comes up before -then. See you in the wardroom at dinner. Carry on, Mr. Scott."</p> - -<p>He left Scott feeling sorry for his friend, Tom Drew, who commanded -Blue Three's lame duck, the beloved <i>Artemis</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Striding down the ramp, the Commodore came to the main gun-deck and -headed aft, past the banks of five inchers and torpedo tubes that lined -the inner shell. The gun crews stood respectfully as he walked past -them and returned young Blake's sharp salute. Hartnett restrained a -smile and continued down to the cabin deck.</p> - -<p>Ensign Ward was unpacking his gear as he came through the valve, -and listening to a commercial broadcast on short wave that crackled -and faded with the vagaries of Terra's faraway heavyside layer. The -reports, pieced together, gave a fairly comprehensive picture of the -fighting that was going on in the Uranian quadrant.</p> - -<p>"I don't like the way things are going, sir," said Ward.</p> - -<p>Hartnett didn't either, but he could see no point in saying so. -Besides, the Flotilla's patrol area was on the other side of the sun -from Uranus, and the news there was bad enough to give him food for -thought.</p> - -<p>"I won't need you for a bit, Ward. Take off and get yourself settled," -he suggested.</p> - -<p>The aide saluted and left. Hartnett stripped off his blouse and shirt -and settled himself comfortably on the acceleration bunk. He switched -on the bank of solar lamps and let the warm rays sooth and relax his -tired muscles. The tension of many harrowing days in the Pentagon began -to leave him, and he felt a great pity for the desk-bound VIP who could -not know the joy of a ship under them in deep space. Thank God he got -past the last physical. They were getting tougher every patrol!</p> - -<p>The radio was still on and as the news reports came in, his restless -mind turned to consider the unfortunate tactical situation in which the -Terran Space Force now found itself.</p> - -<p>It was the old democratic failing. God Bless it! As old as Terra's -history. Ship for ship and man for man the Terran Forces were better -than the Martian. Terrans shot faster and straighter. Terran ships flew -farther and faster. And Terra, for all its failings, was a free world -fighting for a free space. But the Cats had more ships and a hell of a -lot less reluctance about using them to enslave everybody in sight.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The first Martian war had ended the squabbling confederation of -sovereign states that had been the UN. And the Martian war had brought -about in five short years the advancement of space-flight that might -otherwise have taken decades. It was ironic that the peace-loving -peoples of the Universe always seemed to produce better under the harsh -goad of war. The nastier the war the more magnificent the achievements. -Hartnett wondered if that were not a very significant commentary on the -true nature of the human organism.</p> - -<p>But in the first Cat war the Solar System had been faced with the -unfortunate situation of two races developing interplanetary flight -within a decade of each other ... and both starting out to proselytize -their own peculiar institutions among the outposts of the System. A -clash was inevitable ... and Terra won the narrow margin of victory by -a more comprehensive understanding of material science. While the war -had begun with chemical fueled ships and bombs, it had ended up with -atomic powered ships and proton cannon.</p> - -<p>The primitive ships of the war's beginning were still vivid memories to -Hartnett. He had spent many months in them, suffering the effects of -free-fall for weeks while they coasted in half-computed orbits around -the sun. The people of Terra had long had atomics, but it was not until -the third year of war that a method had been found to utilize the power -of the atom for a space drive. In those days a ship did not dare even -a perihelion passage, for fear the terrible heat of the sun would -detonate their precious reserves of fuel. Things were different now.</p> - -<p>Ward reentered the room abruptly. "Message from Luna Control, sir," -he said, passing over the note. "Came on tight beam, coded, and -scrambled," he added unnecessarily.</p> - -<p>The Commodore read it over slowly and pursed his lips. He swung his -legs over the side of the bunk and reached for the intercom. "Control."</p> - -<p>"Control here," came the reply.</p> - -<p>"Stand by for a change of course. Be with you in a moment."</p> - -<p>There was a moment of surprised silence, and then: "Aye, sir."</p> - -<p>Hartnett turned to his aide. "Reach me that space-bag, will you Ward? -That's the one. Fish out Code Book 6589 and the A chart. That's the -deal."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Hartnett's staff and all of the <i>Darkside's</i> officers not actually -on watch assembled in the wardroom on the Commodore's orders. The -Flotilla had already come about and was heading sunward, its steady -acceleration of 3 Gs aided by gravity. Already, Greys had been packed -away in deference to the rising temperature, and all hands were clad in -fiberglass shorts and jumpers.</p> - -<p>The assembled officers rose when the Commodore entered the room and he -waved them back to their seats, taking a chair at the head of the mess -table.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Scott," he began without preamble, "What do you know about the new -Cat superdreadnaughts?"</p> - -<p>"Very little, sir. I have heard that they are the biggest thing -in space ... although I don't believe they have more than one in -service right now. The other two of that class were photographed by a -photo-recon skeeter out of the <i>Gorgon</i> a week before we lifted ship. I -saw the prints."</p> - -<p>"What about armament?" asked the Flotilla Gunnery Officer, Wilson.</p> - -<p>Scott shrugged. "We know very little about that. Mr. Horowitz could -tell you more. I understand they mount some kind of new cyclotronic -rifles."</p> - -<p>"That's correct, sir," replied Horowitz. "I don't know exactly how the -things work, but I could guess that they detonate the heavy metals used -for fuel in atomic powered vessels."</p> - -<p>"Range?" asked Lieutenant Orsov laconically.</p> - -<p>"No information ... but I would be willing to guess that it is not more -than fifty miles no matter how tight their beam. There would be far too -great a voltage loss."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Blake," said Hartnett, "How good are you on the skeeter-boat?"</p> - -<p>Blake looked perplexed, but he answered with some pride that he was -considered quite passable.</p> - -<p>"I'll bear that out, sir," said Scott drily. "Mr. Blake is something of -a hotshot pilot."</p> - -<p>"Good enough," returned Hartnett. "We'll see when we near Station 9." -He looked over at Blake. "Do you think you can land a skeeter there and -take off three passengers without arousing the Cats?"</p> - -<p>"A skeeter is only meant for three people, sir, and four would be quite -an overload," protested Blake.</p> - -<p>"It will have to be done. If we try to land a ship there, every Cat in -the quadrant will be on our necks. It's either the skeeter, or ..." he -shrugged expressively.</p> - -<p>"If we strip the boat down and remove all unnecessary mass it should -do," suggested Orsov. "What do you think, Blake?"</p> - -<p>Blake gulped. To strip the skeeter would mean removing all armor and -guns. "I ... uh...." He squared his shoulders and grinned sheepishly. -"It would," he declared finally.</p> - -<p>"Good," said the Commodore.</p> - -<p>"Just where is this Station 9, sir?" asked Morse.</p> - -<p>Hartnett ignored the question, but by way of answer, he turned to his -Flotilla Astrogator, Thorne and asked: "Do you remember the analysis of -Oberon's surface, Thorne?"</p> - -<p>"Vaguely. All four of the Uranian satellites are composed mainly of -pitchblende and similar ores. Heavy metals. Very dense. I happen to -remember because it's one of the coincidences of astronomy that the -planet itself was given the name Uranus before the discovery that the -whole of its system was lousy with uranium ores."</p> - -<p>"What else can you tell us about it?"</p> - -<p>"Well, Oberon is small ... about 800 miles in diameter. Ariel and -Titania are about 1,000 and 600 respectively, and Umbriel is the baby -at about 400 miles. Much of Terra's uranium was brought in from Titania -back in the days of U-235 bombs and so forth. They are abandoned now."</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen," said Hartnett, facing the others seriously. "There are ten -Martian cruisers and a superdreadnaught in the vicinity of Oberon and -Ariel ... you may have guessed by this time that our mysterious Station -9 is on Oberon. My orders are to rescue the three technicians and -destroy their samples of Isotope X-R, which is, I understand, a very -unstable Isotope of plutonium.</p> - -<p>"If we could ... in some way ... destroy the bulk of the Cat strength -in the Uranus system, it would be a great step forward toward the -successful conclusion of this war that is still young enough to have -killed relatively few people."</p> - -<p>Scott looked around at his officers and read plain astonishment on -their faces. To talk of destroying such a Martian fleet with four tiny -ships was madness!</p> - -<p>"The rescue of the Station personnel will be handled by Mr. Blake and -the skeeter-boat. And ... if the plan I have works out properly, the -destruction of the enemy fleet will be handled by ... one ship alone." -He looked around the table with the vaguest suggestion of a grin on his -leathery face. He nodded his head at Scott. "You're quite right, Mr. -Scott, the <i>Artemis</i>."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Scott paced furiously up and down the steel deck of the dark Control. -Chavez sat before the panels, his saturnine face wreathed in demon-like -curls of blue smoke from the short, black, Mexican cheroot he smoked so -lovingly.</p> - -<p>"You should have heard him!" exclaimed Scott, "Standing there and -calmly telling us that we are going to destroy the Cat fleet with the -<i>Artemis</i>! Booby trap 'em, he says! Chav, I tell you he's gone looney!"</p> - -<p>Chavez shrugged and smoothed his hairline moustache. "Quien sabe?"</p> - -<p>"What the hell do you mean 'Quien sabe!' Are you trying to tell me -you're thinking he can do it?"</p> - -<p>The Latin smiled, showing animal white teeth. "I understand he's done -a lot of things that people said weren't possible. Personally, I should -be very glad if he did what he says so we could all get back to Ley -City. Amigo, I have a little friend back on Luna that is." He smiled -dreamily and kissed his fingertips.</p> - -<p>"I think you're all going crazy. It's just having that man aboard."</p> - -<p>"Ah, Ah!" cautioned Chavez, "Remember all those beautiful silver -stripes."</p> - -<p>"Well, damn the lot of you. I just hope we get the <i>Darkside</i> back to -Luna Base and your little...." He made an angry parody of Chavez's -romantic gesture.</p> - -<p>"We'll get back, I think, Mr. Scott," said a casual voice from the -Valve. The Commodore was standing in the arch, outlined against the -ramp light. He stepped into Control and took a seat beside Chavez at -the panels.</p> - -<p>Scott and Chavez maintained an embarrassed silence. Hartnett looked up -to study the now receding solar disk through the tinted visiplate. The -Flotilla was now heading once again for deep space.</p> - -<p>It was a few moments before Hartnett spoke. When he did, it was a -command directed at Scott.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Scott, the Flotilla will land for certain necessary readjustments -on Hyperion. See that the other vessels are properly notified." Then he -rose and left the Control.</p> - -<p>Scott dropped unhappily into a chair. He looked at Chavez. "Well, Mr. -Chavez. How do you think you will enjoy command of the <i>Darkside</i>?"</p> - -<p>Chavez laid a friendly hand on his commander's sleeve. "I don't think -he'd take your ship from you just because...."</p> - -<p>"Skip it, Chav!" snapped Scott and he left the Control in peevish -silence.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Sixty hours later Blue Three lay grounded in a jagged little valley -on airless Hyperion. Spacesuited figures swarmed about the clustered -ships transferring personnel from the <i>Artemis</i> to the other ships, and -rigging special television, remote control, and other apparatus in the -<i>Artemis</i>.</p> - -<p>Hartnett stood beneath the <i>Darkside's</i> ventral valve on the metallic -soil of the little moon with Chavez and Orsov watching the progress -of the work. Lieutenant Morrow of the <i>Lysander</i> and Lieutenant Griggs -of the <i>Argus</i> joined them and stood in silence while the last of the -<i>Artemis'</i> personnel was transferred into the <i>Darkside</i>. Tom Drew, the -commander of the <i>Artemis</i> stood sadly apart watching the spacemen make -a ghost ship of his command.</p> - -<p>On the eastern horizon, Saturn was rising into a black sky studded with -points of fiery brilliance. Quickly the ringed planet climbed into the -sky and flooded the tortured landscape of Hyperion with light. The men -at the <i>Darkside's</i> valve stood watching the show of celestial grandeur -in awe. Orsov, for all his deep-space experience, could not help but -feel a twinge of vertigo as he looked up into the haloed face of the -heavenly giant that filled a quarter of the inverted bowl of ebony that -the heavens had become.</p> - -<p>Everyone was relieved to lift ship, however, for the thought of being -caught grounded by any roving Martian spaceship was not pleasant to -contemplate. Atomic bombs had long been obsolete, but one such would -certainly suffice to exterminate four grounded spacecraft. Then too, -they were all glad to get away from the glaring spectre that so eerily -filled too much of the sky ... the ringed Saturn had a hypnotic effect -that left a man shaken.</p> - -<p>In the Control of the <i>Darkside</i> Chavez whispered to Scott: "We were -thinking that you were going to lose the <i>Darky</i> ... and it turns out -that poor old Drew is the one who lost his command."</p> - -<p>"He should be glad to get rid of it."</p> - -<p>"But what," asked Chavez, "is the old man going to do with her?"</p> - -<p>Scott shrugged and spoke succinctly. "Bait." His spirits had risen -considerably when Hartnett had left him in command of the <i>Darkside</i>, -contrary to his expectations. He reflected somewhat ruefully that it -did a man good to have a scare thrown into him from time to time. Even -now, rapidly approaching a quadrant heavy with Cat warships, he could -feel contented in merely feeling his beloved tin can responding under -his hands on the control panels.</p> - -<p>A thousand yards behind and astern, the unmanned <i>Artemis</i> followed -the <i>Darkside</i> like a dog on a leash, its myriad functions controlled -by an invisible chain of subetheric impulses from jerry-rigged remote -controls on the <i>Darkside's</i> gun-deck.</p> - -<p>In the faint light of the faraway sun, where the irrepressible Blake -had sloshed paint on her flank, gleamed the legend: BOOBY TRAP.</p> - -<p>Like shadows, the four ships of Flotilla Blue Three slipped through the -patrol cordons of the Martian Space Force. In the infinite vastnesses -of the interplanetary deeps they were unnoticed. Blast tubes silent, -guided only by the ever increasing gravitational attraction of mammoth -Uranus, and the reaction of whining gyroscopes.</p> - -<p>Beneath them, its greenish disk ever increasing, lay Uranus ... cold, -harsh, forbidding. The thick atmosphere of methane and ammonia lay in -great turbulent belts, whipped to maniacal fury by the eternal storms -that swept the unguessable surface of the ghastly planet.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Blake shivered slightly as the skeeter-valve of the <i>Darkside</i> closed -soundlessly behind him and the blackness of the void closed in about -the tiny boat. For just an instant, the familiar shape of the destroyer -loomed comfortingly in the faint light of the dwarfed sun, and then it -was gone, and he was falling away towards the mystery shrouded world -that lay beneath him. The very size of the disk was frightening. A huge -swirling mass 30,000 miles across seemed to be drawing him inexorably -into its gassy body.</p> - -<p>With an effort he settled himself down in the control chair and patted -the tattered pin-up picture on the panel before him. It was a bit of -Terra far from home, and the simple act gave him courage. This was -certainly different from the Terra-Luna flights he had so often made -alone ... this was different. He grinned to himself and spoke aloud the -phrase made famous by ten thousand generations of actors and hacks. -This, he declaimed, is <i>it</i>!</p> - -<p>Quickly now, he set up the constants for Oberon and pressed the firing -stud. There was a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach as the -skeeter came alive and the vast disk of Uranus vanished from the -forward vision ports. Speed was essential now. His trail would not mark -the place of the Flotilla, but it surely would arouse the sharp eyes -of the Cats who must be nearby. He pressed the second stud and the -skeeter leaped ahead. The accelerometer stood at 7 Terran Gs. By long -practice he could stand 11 ... and the skeeter ... stripped and souped -up ... could produce 20. Far too many.</p> - -<p>He set the seat to prone position. Maybe he could squeeze an extra -one out of it now. 12 G! He gave the skeeter more power and the stars -seemed to go into a crazy dance as his vision started to fail. Enough.</p> - -<p>Thirty minutes of terrific speed and still no sign of the Cats. The -tiny, dark disc of Oberon grew with alarming rapidity in the port. He -began to decelerate so fast that he nearly blacked out again. Damn! -Below him the tiny moon lay barren and bizarre in the greenish glow of -its huge primary.</p> - -<p>The mushroom shaped huts of the metallurgical station were directly -below him and he swung the skeeter into a wild approach that would -have given his rocket instructor heart failure, but the boat held -together and settled to the surface of the tiny spaceport with a -crunch. Without waiting even for the surrounding soil to cool, Blake -was out of the ship and clumping clumsily toward the distant huts. The -terrific density of Oberon made the gravity almost normal. Three suited -figures appeared from the valves and began to run grotesquely toward -him. He waved them back and began shouting instructions at them on -the photophone. The infrared lamps on the top of the helmets blinked -eagerly in answer. Then quickly the four men vanished into the storage -hut and set feverishly to work.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Control was lit only by the red battle lamps. Lines were strung -along the walls and through the valves, and Scott, Chavez, and the -Quartermaster sat strapped at the panels. The ship was in a free -falling orbit around Uranus, its sister ships and the ghost ship, -<i>Artemis</i>, following her lead like huge beads on an invisible string. -The orbit could not be broken until Blake returned with the Station -technicians. All hands sat in nervous silence at GQ while the Flotilla -hung dead in space.</p> - -<p>Commodore Hartnett came through the valve from the gun-deck. There was -a flimsy in his hand and he pulled himself along the guide-line with -some difficulty.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Scott," he rapped out. The waiting was taking its toll of his -nerves as well as the other's. "Mr. Scott. You will break radio silence -and transmit this message immediately. Unscrambled and in Code Two."</p> - -<p>The men at the panels stiffened in surprise. So far they had managed to -avoid arousing the prowling Cats ... but now this!</p> - -<p>"Sir," protested Scott, "You surely can't mean to break radio silence -with young Blake down there!"</p> - -<p>It was hard for a man to look dignified floating in midair ... but -somehow Hartnett managed it. "It's an order, Mr. Scott."</p> - -<p>Scott flushed angrily. A gambler! Damn you, he thought! But he bit his -lip and reached for the message. "Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>Hartnett remained behind him as he rang for communications.</p> - -<p>"Communications here!"</p> - -<p>"Stand by to transmit."</p> - -<p>"Spread beam," ordered Hartnett.</p> - -<p>Scott cursed silently. "Spread beam."</p> - -<p>"Aye, aye, Sir...." The voice of the radioman sounded strangled.</p> - -<p>Scott read from the flimsy in a flat voice, a note of astonishment -creeping in as he finished the message.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>"TORAN LONG, SENIOR CONTROL, LUNA BASE. AM STANDING BY OFF OBERON -READY TO LOAD ISOTOPE X-R ON BOARD DESTROYER "ARTEMIS" HAVE NOT MET -THE ENEMY AND HAVE SUFFERED NO CASUALTIES. ONE AUXILIARY TUBE ON THE -"ORION" HAS BLOWN BUT THE "JOVE" AND "MINERVA" ARE STANDING BY TO -EFFECT EMERGENCY REPAIRS. HAVE DOCK SPACE AVAILABLE FOR REPAIR OF -"ORION" L PLUS 21 2235 SIDEREAL. SIGNED C. HARTNETT COMMODORE RED SIX. -END MESSAGE."</p></div> - -<p>Scott wondered wildly if Hartnett had not suddenly lost his mind. Red -Six was the Code name for the Task Force that included five Terran -dreadnaughts, and the part about the blown tube and the repairs added -up to just so much lunacy. The Cats had the cipher ... there wasn't -much doubt of that, and had Hartnett invited every Martian captain in -the quadrant to come blasting down on them with all tubes blowing, he -couldn't have phrased it better!</p> - -<p>Leaving the stunned Scott to ponder his strange madness, Commodore -Hartnett hurried down into the cluttered gun-deck. Drew, at the remote -controls of the <i>Artemis</i>, was ready for action when he arrived. Time -was important now, thought Hartnett.</p> - -<p>"Now get that can down there ... and fast!"</p> - -<p>Drew and his men went into action, and the <i>Artemis</i> vanished from the -string of beads and plunged toward Oberon ... an empty and forlorn -bait for a trap whose jaws were beginning to close as from all over -the quadrant, Cat warships converged on Oberon ... their vaunted -superdreadnaught in the lead.</p> - -<p>Twenty minutes after <i>Artemis</i> left the Flotilla, the radioactive -streaks of the first Martian cruisers showed in the sky 15,000 miles -away.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Blake and the three technicians from Station 9 huddled in the careening -skeeter-boat. They were almost on top of the Martian superdreadnaught -before they saw it. For just a fleeting instant it seemed to fill all -of space, and then it was gone. The Cats on board paid no attention to -a tiny boat that they imagined to be the survivor of the battle that -must have already begun off Oberon. But Blake paled at the very size -and might of the craft. From what he had seen of it it would take much -heavier stuff than the <i>Darkside</i> carried to dent that monster!</p> - -<p>Then they were nearing the <i>Darkside</i> and Blake had his hands full -threading the skeeter back into the valve that yawned black as he drew -near. Once aboard, he slipped through the sighing valves and into -the boat deck. A steward came to take charge of the passengers, and -Blake hurried up to the gun-deck that had been transformed into the -extra-corporeal brain of the doomed <i>Artemis</i>.</p> - -<p>Hartnett looked up from his work to grunt at him: "Did you do what I -told you to do?"</p> - -<p>Blake grinned, "Yes, sir. All the stuff is buried in the storage -chambers directly under the pits ... the ones that are used to store -the coolants."</p> - -<p>"Good enough." He rang for Control. "Have we been sighted yet?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir," came Chavez' voice. "But the Cats are gathering thick and -fast."</p> - -<p>Blake told Hartnett about the mammoth superdreadnaught, and the older -man smiled. "We'll see if we can't give them something for their -trouble." He turned back to the communicator. "Chavez, see to it that -we maintain a mean distance from Oberon of at least 25,000 miles. And -have all the screens in place."</p> - -<p>"Aye, Sir."</p> - -<p>"<i>Artemis</i> is down, Sir," reported Drew.</p> - -<p>Hartnett turned to look into the visiplates. The derelict ship had -landed nicely on the spaceport near the metallurgical station. He -nodded with satisfaction. At least the blast of her tubes hadn't -detonated the pile. He looked into a sky plate and saw that she had not -landed a minute too soon.</p> - -<p>Two Martian cruisers, their black shapes dark against the starry sky, -were hanging low over her. Others circled behind them, and higher -than all the others, Hartnett could make out the huge shape of the -superdreadnaught that Blake had seen. That was the one he wanted!</p> - -<p>For perhaps twenty minutes the Martians hung suspiciously over the -still landscape of Oberon. Then a cruiser detached itself and began to -sink down towards the spaceport on a long, slowly diminishing column of -flame.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Hartnett swore. They were going to try and land! That wouldn't do at -all. He had to goad them into attacking. He snapped an order to Drew. -Only one of the <i>Artemis'</i> proton cannon was connected with the remote -control apparatus in the <i>Darkside</i> but Hartnett hoped it would be -enough. It had to be.</p> - -<p>Taking the gun control himself, he swung the sight so that it pointed -at the lowest cruiser. A flash of energy sizzled from the projector, -and spattered on the exposed flank of the Cat cruiser throwing sparks -wildly like the glitter of a child's Fourth of July sparkler. The ship -shuddered under the impact and glowed white hot along the scarred beam.</p> - -<p>Like a speeded up motion picture shot, the Cat ship leaped away from -the spaceport, leveling its own guns at the recumbent <i>Artemis</i>. The -men in the <i>Darkside</i> caught a glimpse of the other ships bearing -their projectors, and far above, Hartnett was elated to see that the -superdreadnaught had extended the muzzles of its massive cyclotronic -rifles.</p> - -<p>The cruisers fired first, and the screens went blank, so the Terrans -never saw the rest of it. But up in the darkened Control Chavez and -Scott were witnesses to one of the greatest cataclysms men have ever -seen.</p> - -<p>The tiny disk of Oberon seemed to light up with a white fire; swelling -like a glowing balloon and then shattering with a violence that left -them speechless. The very atmosphere of Uranus under the low swinging -moonlet boiled and billowed with a frightful incandescence, great -prominences of radioactivated methane spouting high into the air as the -very internal balance of the great planet teetered.</p> - -<p>A shock-wave of corruscating fire shot out from the blazing surface -of Oberon, engulfing the Martian warships in a sea of spinning, -scintillating destruction. Like a tiny nova, the satellite flared in -the black silence of deep space, vaporizing everything within ten -thousand miles of it; churning the very vacuum into a hell of hard -radiation.</p> - -<p>Scott stared at the outside Geiger counters as they chattered their -story of charged ions and electrons battering, even at this distance, -at sheathing in the destroyer's hull.</p> - -<p>Hartnett's shouted order to "... get the hell out of here!" was -strictly unnecessary. By the time he had issued it, the remaining three -ships of Blue Three were piling on Gs in the direction of Terra.</p> - -<p>Though no one stayed to look at it, the sight of the remnants of Oberon -forming into a thin ring around the grumbling Uranus must have been -quite impressive.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Ten hours from Luna Base, Flotilla Blue Three's officers had assembled -for a victory dinner in the wardroom. The last course was cleared away, -and Chavez passed a quantity of his precious cheroots around.</p> - -<p>He settled himself down beside Scott and dragged happily at his smoke.</p> - -<p>It was Blake who burst out with the question that was on everyone's -mind.</p> - -<p>Commodore Hartnett smiled. "It was Horowitz who really doped the -thing out, gentlemen. I just put the plan into operation. You see, -plutonium can be used as a sort of booster charge in a chain reaction -explosion ... you all know that. You, yourself, Blake, and you men from -the station moved the stuff into a spot that would be directly under -the poor old <i>Artemis</i> when the shooting started.</p> - -<p>"You youngsters don't remember much about land warfare, so it was -up to me to rig the trap. The bait was <i>Artemis</i>. The teaser was -the spread-beam radio message about the three dreadnaughts that we -aren't.... Remember that, Mr. Scott?"</p> - -<p>Scott blushed furiously and nodded.</p> - -<p>"Well," continued Hartnett, "It was something of a gamble, I suppose. -But the odds were long and the chances weren't too bad.</p> - -<p>"You all know how anxious the Cats are to try something new. Those -cyclotronic rifles must have been literally burning a hole in their -pockets ... and the range was short ... they couldn't resist the -temptation to try them. If they had stuck to proton guns they would -have melted <i>Artemis</i> down and that would have been the end of -it ... they would have had the X-R to do with as they pleased. But -they got itchy fingers with the new stuff ... as I prayed they would. -Curiosity, I suppose. The feline instinct. Have you ever seen a cat -trying to open a package? Same kind of people.</p> - -<p>"The rest was just a repetition of the atom blasts of the first -Martian War and the earlier wars on Terra. The only difference was -the size of the bomb. The cyclotrons set off the chain reaction in -the plutonium ... the plutonium set off the reaction in the U-235 ... -common enough on a world made practically all of pitchblende and other -Uranium compounds. The same thing could happen to ... say Terra ... if -we ever started a chain reaction in one of the commoner elements such -as iron, or carbon. Or even one of the commoner gases. Anyway there are -only three satellites in the Uranian System now ... and eight less Cat -cruisers and one less superdreadnaught. I suspect the Cats can hardly -afford to lose them, too. Wouldn't surprise me to hear that Mars has -been feeling around for an armistice even by the time we get home. The -very fact that they have no idea how their fleet was destroyed will -tickle them in the right place, I suppose."</p> - -<p>Scott spoke in surprised tones. "So they blew themselves up with their -own fancy cannon."</p> - -<p>Hartnett nodded reflectively. "Um ... that's about it. Of course we had -to set up the proper conditions." He grinned at the younger man. "Or, -you might say, the 'Booby Trap'...."</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PREVIEW OF PERIL ***</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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