February 21, 2025 • 26 mins
Buckle up for a thrilling ride through space in Triplanetary, the pioneering novel that helped define the space opera genre. E.E. "Doc" Smith pushes the boundaries of science fiction with high-speed interstellar travel, breathtaking battles, and brilliant scientist-heroes who wield technology like a weapon. In this epic adventure, physics bends to human will, alien threats loom large, and love sparks in the midst of cosmic conflict. If you're ready for a fast-paced, no-holds-barred journey across the stars, Triplanetary is your ticket to an unforgettable sci-fi saga.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Seven the hill. The heavy cruiser Chicago hung motionless in space,
(00:07):
thousands of miles distant from the warring fleets of space
ships so viciously attacking and so stubbornly defending the planetoid
of the enemy, and the captain's sanctum lyming Cleveland crouched
tensely above his ultra cameras, his sensitive fingers touching lightly
their micrometric dials. His body was rigid, his face was
(00:28):
set and drawn. Only his eyes moved, flashing back and
forth between the observation plates and smoothly running rolls which
were feeding into the cameras. The hardened steel tapes upon
which were being magnetically recorded. The frightful scenes of carnage
and destruction there revealed, silent and bitterly absorbed. Though surrounded
(00:49):
by staring officers whose fervent, almost unconscious cursing was prayerful
in its intensity, the busy ray expert kept his ultra
instruments upon that awful strutruggle to its dire conclusion flawlessly.
Those instruments noted every detail of the destruction of Roger's fleet,
of the transformation of the armada of triplanetary into an
(01:11):
unknown fluid, and finally of the dissolution of the gigantic
planetoid itself. Then furiously Cleveland drove his beams against the
crimsonly opaque obscurity into which the peculiar, viscous stream of
substance was disappearing. Time after time, he applied his every
wat of power, with no result. A vast volume of space,
(01:34):
roughly ellipsoidal in shape, was closed to him by forces
entirely beyond his experience or comprehension. But suddenly, while his
rays were still trying to pierce that impenetrable murk, it
disappeared instantly and without warning. The illimitable infinity of space
once more lay revealed upon his plates, and his beams
(01:55):
flashed on and on through the void unimpeded. Back to
tell us, Sir, the Chicago's captain broke the strained silence.
I wouldn't say so if I had the say, Cleveland,
baffled and frustrated, straightened up and shut off his cameras.
We should report back as soon as possible, of course,
(02:16):
but there seems to be a lot of wreckage out
there yet that we can't photograph and detail at this distance.
A close study of it might help us a lot
in understanding what they did and how they did it.
I'd say that we should get close ups of whatever
is left and do it right away before it gets
scattered all over space. But of course I can't give
(02:36):
you orders. You can, though, the captain made surprising answer.
My orders are that you are in command of this vessel.
In that case, we will proceed at full emergency acceleration
to investigate the wreckage. Cleveland replied, and the cruiser, sole
survivor of Triplanetary's supposedly invincible force, shot away, with every
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projector delivering its maximum blast. As the scene of the
disaster was approached, there was revealed upon the plates a
confused mass of debris, a mass whose individual units were
apparently moving at random, yet which was as a whole
still following the orbit of Roger's planetoid. Space was full
of machine parts, structural members, furniture flotsam of all kinds,
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and everywhere were the bodies of men. Some were encased
in space suits, and it was to these that the
rescuers turned first space hardened veterans. Though the men of
the Chicago were, they did not care even to look
at the others. Strangely enough, however, not one of the
floating figures spoke or moved, and spaceline men were hurriedly
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sent out to investigate. All dead quickly, the dread report
came back, been dead a long time. The armours all
stripped off, the suits and the generators and the other
apparatus are all shot. Something funny about it too. None
of them seemed to have been touched, but the machinery
of the suits seemed to be about half of it missing.
(04:09):
I've got it all on the spools, Sir Cleveland, his
close up survey of the wreckage finished, turned to the captain.
What they've just reported checks up with what I've photographed everywhere.
I've got an idea of what might have happened, but
it's so dizzy that I'll have to have a lot
of reinforcement before I'll believe it myself. But you might
(04:30):
have them bring in a few of the armored bodies,
a couple of those switchboards and panels floating around out there,
and half a dozen miscellaneous pieces of junk, the nearest
things they can get hold of, whatever they happen to be.
Then back to tell Us, said maximum, Right back to
tell Us as fast as we can possibly go there.
(04:51):
While the Chicago hurtled to space at full power, Cleveland
and the ranking officers of the vessel grouped themselves about
the salvaged wreckage. Familiar with space rexes were they all?
None of them had ever seen anything like the material
before them. For every part and instrument was weirdly and
meaninglessly disintegrated. There were no brakes, no marks of violence,
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and yet nothing was intact. Bolt holes stared, empty cores,
shielding cases and needles had disappeared, The vital parts of
every instrument hung awry. This organization reigned rampant and supreme.
I never imagine such a mess, the captain said, after
a long and silent study of the objects, If you
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have any theory to cover that, Cleveland, I would like
to hear it. I want you to notice something first,
the busiray expert replied, But don't look for what's there,
look for what isn't there. Well, the armor's gone, so
are the shielding cases, shafts, spindles, the housings and stems.
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The captain's voice died away as his eyes raced over
the collection. Why everything that was made of wood bacolite copper, aluminum, silver, bronze,
or anything, but steel hasn't been touched, and every bit
of steel is gone. But that doesn't make sense. What
does it mean? I don't know yet, Cleveland replied slowly,
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But I'm afraid that there's more and worse. He opened
a space suit, reverently, revealing the face, a face calm
and peaceful, but utterly sickeningly white. Still reverently, he made
a deep incision in the brawny neck, severing the jugular vein,
then went on soberly. You never imagine such a thing
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as white blood, either, But it all checks up some way. Somehow,
every particle, probably every atom, a free or combined iron,
in this whole volume of space was made off with huh,
how come? And above all why from the amazed and
staring officers, You know as much as I do, grimly ponderingly,
(07:10):
if it were not for the fact that there are
solid asteroids of iron out beyond Mars, I would say
that somebody wanted iron badly enough to wipe out the
fleets and the planetoid to get it. But anyway, whoever
they were, they carried enough power so that our armament
didn't bother them at all. This simply took the metal
they wanted and went away with it so fast that
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I couldn't trace them with an ultra beam. There's only
one thing plain, and that's so plain that it scares
me stiff. This whole affair spells intelligence with a capital eye,
and that intelligence is anything but friendly as for me.
I want to get Fred Raudebush at work on this soon.
Think i'll hurry it up a little. He stepped over
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to his ultra projector and called the terrestrial headquarters of
the TSS. Sam's's face soon appeared upon his screen. We
got it all, Virgil, he reported. It's something extraordinary, bigger, wider,
and deeper than any of us dreamed. It may be urgent, too,
so I think I had better shoot the pictures in
(08:15):
on the ultrawave and save a few days. Fred has
a tellomagneto recorder there that he can synchronize with this
camera outfit easily enough. Right, right, good work, Liman. Thanks
came back ' approval and appreciation, and soon the steeled
tapes were again flashing between the feed rolls. This time, however,
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their varying magnetic charges were modulating an ultra wave, so
that every detail of that calamitous battle of the Void
was being screened and recorded in the innermost private laboratory
of the Triplanetary Secret Service. Eager though he naturally was
to join his fellow scientists, Cleveland did not waste his
time during the long but uneventful journey back to Earth.
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There was more much to study, many improvements to be
made in his comparatively crude first ultra camera. Then too,
there were long conferences with Sam's, and particularly with Routabush,
the mathematical physicist, whose was the task of solving the
riddles of the energies and weapons of the Nevians. Thus,
it did not seem long before Green Terra grew large
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beneath the flying sphere of the Chicago. Going to have
to circle at once, aren't you, Cleveland asked the chief pilot.
He had been watching that officer closely for minutes, admiring
the delicacy and precision with which the great vessel was
being maneuvered preliminary to entering the Earth's atmosphere. Yes, the
pilot replied, we had to come in with the shortest
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possible time, and that meant of velocity here that we
can't check without a spiral. However, even at that we
saved a lot of time. You can save quite a
bit more, though, by having a rocket plane come out
to meet us somewhere around fifteen or twenty thousand kilometers
to pay end upon where you want to land. With
their power to mass ratio, they can match our velocity
(10:05):
and still make the drop direct. Guess I'll do that, thanks,
And the operative called his chief, only to learn that
his suggestion had already been acted upon. We beat you
to it, lyman Sam smiled, the silver sliver is out
there now, looping to match your course, acceleration and velocity
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at twenty two thousand kilometers. You'll be ready to transfer.
I'll be ready, And the quartermaster's ex clerk went to
his quarters and packed his dunnage bag. In due time,
the long, slender body of the rocket plane came into view,
creeping down upon the spaceship from above, and Cleveland bade
his friends goodbye. Dotting a spacesuit, he stationed himself in
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the starboard airlock. Its atmosphere was withdrawn. The outer door opened,
and he glanced across a bare hundred feet of space
at the rocket plane, which ports fiercely Aflame was breaking
her terrific speed to match the slower pace of the
gigantic ship of war, shaped like a toothpick needle pointed
for and aft, with ultra stubby wings and veins, with
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flush set rocket ports everywhere. Built of illustrious, silvery alloy
of noble and almost infusible metals, such was the private
speedboat of the Chief of the TSS, the fastest thing known,
whether in planetary air, the stratosphere, or the vacuous depth
of interplanetary space. Her first flashing trial spins had won
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her the nickname of the Silver Sliver. She had had
a more formal name, but that title had long since
been buried in the departmental files. Lower and slower dropped
the Silver Sliver, her rockets flaming even brighter until her
slender length lay level with the airlocked door. Then her
blasting discharges subsided to the power necessary to match exactly
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the Chicago's deceleration. Ready to cut, Chicago, give me a
three second call snap from the pilot room of the Sliver.
Ready to cut. The pilot of the Chicago replied, seconds
three two one cut. At the last word, the power
of both vessels was instantly cut off, and everything in
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them became weightless. In the tiny airlock of the slender
craft crouched a space lined man with coiled cable in readiness,
but he was not needed. As the flaring exhaust ceased,
Cleveland swung out his heavy bag and slept lightly off
into space, and in a right line, he floated directly
into the open doorway of the rocket plane. The door
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clang shut behind him, and in a matter of moments
he stood in the control room of the racer, divested
of his armor and shaking hands with his friend and
co laborer Frederick Rottabush. Well, Fred, what do you know?
Cleveland asked, as sin as greetings had been exchanged. How
do the various reports tail together? I know that you
(13:02):
couldn't tell me anything on the wave, but there's no
danger of eavesdroppers here. You can't tell Rowtybush soberly replied,
we're just beginning to wake up to the fact that
there are a lot of things we don't know anything about.
Better wait until we're back at the hill. We have
a full set of ultra screens around there. Now there's
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a couple of other good reasons too. It would be
better for both of us to go over the whole
thing with Virgil from the ground up, and we can
do any more talking anyway. Our orders are to get
back there at maximum. And you know what that means.
Aboard the sliver. Strap yourself solid in that shock absorber there,
and here's a pair of earplugs. When the Sliver really
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cuts loose, it means a rough party, all right, Cleveland assented,
snapping about his body the heavy spring straps of his
deeply cushioned seat. But I'm just as anxious to get
back to the hill as anybody can be to get
me there. All set Ratabush waved his hand at the pilot,
and the purring whisper of the exhaust changed instantly to
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a deafening, continuous explosion. The men were pressed deeply into
their shock absorbing chairs as the Silver Sliver spun around
her longitudinal axis and darted away from the Chicago with
such a tremendous acceleration that the spherical warship seemed to
be standing still in space. In due time, the calculated
midpoint was reached, the slim spaceplane rolled over again, and
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mad acceleration, now reversed, rushed on toward the earth, but
with constantly diminishing speed. Finally a measurable atmospheric pressure was encountered.
The needle prow dipped downward, and the silver sliver shot
forward upon her tiny wings and veins, nose rockets, now
drumming in staccato thunder. Her metal grew hot, dull, red,
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bright red, yellow, blinding white, but it neither melted nor burned.
The pilot's calculations had been sound, and though the limiting
point of safety of temperature was reached and steadily held,
it was not exceeded. As the density of the air increased,
so decreased the velocity of the man made meteorite. So
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it was that a dazzling lance of fire sped high
over Seattle, lower over Spokane, and hurl itself eastward, a
furiously flaming arrow, slanting downward in a long, screaming dive
toward the heart of the Rockies. As the now rapidly
cooling Greyhound of the Skies passed over the western ranges
of the Bitter Roots, it became apparent that a goal
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was of vast, flat topped and conical mountain shrouded in
livid light, a mountain whose height awed even its stupendous neighbors.
While not artificial, the hill had been altered markedly by
the triplanetary engineers who had built into it the headquarters
of the Secret Service. Its mile wide top was a
jointly expanse of gray armor steel. The steep, smooth surface
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of the truncated cone was a continuation of the same
immensely thick sheet of metal. No known vehicle could climb
that smooth, hard forbidding slope of steel. No known projectile
could mar that armor. No known craft could even approach
the hill without detection, could not approach it at all,
in fact, for it was constantly enclosed in a vast
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hemisphere of lament violet flame, through which neither material, substance
nor destructive ray could pass. As the silver sliver, crawling
along at a bare three hundred miles an hour approached
that transparent, brilliantly violet wall of destruction, a violet light
filled her control room and as suddenly went out, flashing
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on and off again and again, giving us the once over.
Eh Cleveland asked, that is something new, isn't it, Fred, Yes,
it's a high powered ultra wave spy Rodebush replied. The
light is simply a warning which can be carried if desired.
(17:07):
It can also carry voice and vision Like this, Sams's
voice interrupted from the powerful dynamic speaker upon the pilot's panel,
and his clear cut face appeared upon the television screen.
I don't suppose Fred thought to mention it, but this
is one of his inventions of the last few days.
We are just trying it out on you. It doesn't
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mean a thing though, as far as the sliver is concerned.
Come ahead. A circular opening appeared in the wall of force,
an opening which disappeared as soon as the plane had
darted through it, and at the same time, her landing
cradle rose into the air through a great trapdoor. Slowly
and gracefully, the space plane settled downward into that cushioned embrace.
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Then cradle and nestled Sliver sank from view, and turning
smoothly upon mighty trunions, the plug of armor drove sideidly
back into its place in the metal pavement of the
mountain's lofty summit. The cradle elevator dropped rapidly, coming to
rest many levels down in the heart of the hill
and cleveland, and raudabush leaped lightly out of their transport
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through her still hot outer walls. A door opened before them,
and they found themselves in a large room of full
daylight illumination, the ante room of the private office of
Virgil Sam's. Chiefs of departments sat at their desks, concentrated
upon problems or at ease, according to the demands of
the moment. Televisit types and recorders flashed busily but silently. Calmly,
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efficient men and women went wontedly about the all embracing
business of Triplanetary's space pervading secret service. Right away. Norma
Routabousch paused briefly before the desk of the Chief's private secretary,
But even before he had spoken, she had pressed a
button and the door behind hers lung wide. You two
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do not need to be announced, the attractive young woman smiled.
Go right in. Sam's met them at the door, eagerly,
shaking hands, particularly vigorously with Cleveland. Congratulations on that camera, Lineman,
he exclaimed, you did a wonderful piece of work on that.
Help yourselves to smokes and sit down. There are a
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lot of things we want to talk over. Your pictures
carried most of the story, but they would have left
us pretty much at sea without Kostikin's reports. But as
it was, Fred here and his crew worked out most
of the answers from the dope the two of you got,
and what few they haven't got yet, they soon will
have nothing new. On Conway, Cleveland was almost afraid to
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ask the question. No, A shadow came over Sam's's face.
I'm afraid, but I'm hoping it's only that those creatures,
whatever they are, have taken him so far away that
he can't reach us. They certainly are so far away
that we can't reach them. Rowtybush volunteered. We can't even
(20:08):
get their ultra wave interference anymore. Yes, that's a hopeful
sign SAMs went on. I hate to think of Conway
caustic and checking out there. Fellows was a real observer.
He was the only man I have ever known who
combined the two qualities of the perfect witness. He could
actually see everything he looked at, and could report it
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truly to the last least detail. Take all this stuff,
for instance, especially their ability to transform iron into a
fluid allotrope, and in that form to use its intra
atomic energy as power, something brand new, unheard of except
in the ravings of imaginative fiction. And yet he described
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their converters and projectors so minutely that Fred was able
to work out the underlying theory in three days tie
it in with our own supership. My first thought was
that we'd have to rebuild it iron free, but Fred
showed me my error. You found it first yourself. Of course,
it wouldn't do any good to make the ship non
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ferris unless you could so change our blood chemistry that
we could get along without hemoglobin, and that would be
quite a feat. Cleveland agreed then too. Our most vital
electrical machinery is built around iron cores. No, we'll have
to develop a screen for those forces. Screens rather so
powerful that they can't drive anything through them. We've been
(21:37):
working along these lines ever since you reported, Rawdybush said,
and we're beginning to see light. And in that same connection,
it's no wonder that we couldn't handle our supership. We
had some good ideas, but they were wrongly applied. However,
things look quite promising now we have that trend information
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of iron all worked out in theory, and as soon
as we get a generator going, we can straighten out
everything else in short order. And think what that unlimited
power means. All the power we want, power enough even
to try out such hitherto purely theoretical possibilities as the
neutralization of gravity and even of the inertia of matter.
(22:25):
Hold on protested SAMs. You certainly can't do that. Inertia
is must be a basic attribute of matter, and surely
cannot be done away with without destroying the matter itself.
Don't start anything like that, Fred, I don't want to
lose you in lyman too. Don't worry about us, Chief
(22:48):
Raudabush replied with a smile. If you will tell me
what matter is fundamentally, I may agree with you. No, well,
then don't be surprised at anything that happens. We are
going to do a lot of things that nobody ever
thought of doing before. Thus, for a long time the
argument and discussion went on to be interrupted by the
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voice of the Secretary. Sorry to disturb you, mister Sam's,
but some things have come up that you will have
to handle. Nobos is calling from out near Mars. He
has caught the Endymion and has killed about half her
crew doing it. Milton has finally reported Venus, after being
out of touch for five days, he trailed the Wintons
(23:33):
into Thaleron's swamp. They crashed him there, but he won
out and has what he went after. And just now
I got a flash from Fletcher in the asteroid belt.
I think that he has finally traced that dope line.
But Nobos is on now. What do you want him
to do about the Endemion? Tell him to no, put
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him on here. I'd better tell him myself, SAMs directed,
and his face hardened in ruthless decision as the horny,
misshapen face of the Martian lieutenant appeared upon the screen.
What do you think, Nobos, shall we come to trial
or not? No? I don't think so either. It is
better that a few gangsters should disappear in space than
(24:16):
run the risk of another uprising. See to it right.
The screen darkened and Sam spoke to his secretary. Put
Milton and Fletcher on whenever their rays come in. He
then turned to his guests. We've covered the ground quite thoroughly.
Good Bye. I wish I could go with you, but
I'll be pretty well tied up for the next week
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or two. Tied up doesn't half express it. Rodebush remarked
as the two scientists walked along a corridor toward an elevator.
He probably is the busiest man on the three planets,
as well as the most powerful. Cleveland supplemented, and very
few men could use his power as fairly. But he's
(25:00):
welcome to it. As far as I'm concerned, I'd have
the Pink Fantids for a month if I had to
do only once what he's just done. And to him
it's just part of a day's work. You mean, the Endymion.
What else could he do? Nothing, That's just what I'm
talking about. It had to be done, since bringing them
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to trial would probably mean killing half the people of Morsica.
But at the same time, it's a ghastly thing to
have to order a job of deliberate, cold blooded and
illegal murder. You're right, of course, but you would. He
broke off, unable to put his thoughts into words, for
(25:41):
while inarticulate men like concerning their deepest emotions. In both
men was ingrained the code of their organization. Both knew
that to every man chosen for it, the service was
everything himself nothing but enough of that, We'll have plenty
of grief of our own. Right here. Rodabus changed the
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subject abruptly as they stepped into a vast room almost
filled by the immense bulk of the Boise, the senature spaceship, which,
although never flown, had already aligned with Black so many
pages of Triplanetary's roster. She was, now, however, the center
of a furious activity. Men swarmed over her and through
(26:23):
her in the orderly confusion of a fiercely driven but
carefully planned program of reconstruction. I hope your dope is right,
Fred Cleveland called, as the two sides is separated to
go to their respective laboratories. If it is, we'll make
a perfect lady out of this unmanageable man killer yet
(26:44):
end of chapter
Seven the hill. The heavy cruiser Chicago hung motionless in space,
(00:07):
thousands of miles distant from the warring fleets of space
ships so viciously attacking and so stubbornly defending the planetoid
of the enemy, and the captain's sanctum lyming Cleveland crouched
tensely above his ultra cameras, his sensitive fingers touching lightly
their micrometric dials. His body was rigid, his face was
(00:28):
set and drawn. Only his eyes moved, flashing back and
forth between the observation plates and smoothly running rolls which
were feeding into the cameras. The hardened steel tapes upon
which were being magnetically recorded. The frightful scenes of carnage
and destruction there revealed, silent and bitterly absorbed. Though surrounded
(00:49):
by staring officers whose fervent, almost unconscious cursing was prayerful
in its intensity, the busy ray expert kept his ultra
instruments upon that awful strutruggle to its dire conclusion flawlessly.
Those instruments noted every detail of the destruction of Roger's fleet,
of the transformation of the armada of triplanetary into an
(01:11):
unknown fluid, and finally of the dissolution of the gigantic
planetoid itself. Then furiously Cleveland drove his beams against the
crimsonly opaque obscurity into which the peculiar, viscous stream of
substance was disappearing. Time after time, he applied his every
wat of power, with no result. A vast volume of space,
(01:34):
roughly ellipsoidal in shape, was closed to him by forces
entirely beyond his experience or comprehension. But suddenly, while his
rays were still trying to pierce that impenetrable murk, it
disappeared instantly and without warning. The illimitable infinity of space
once more lay revealed upon his plates, and his beams
(01:55):
flashed on and on through the void unimpeded. Back to
tell us, Sir, the Chicago's captain broke the strained silence.
I wouldn't say so if I had the say, Cleveland,
baffled and frustrated, straightened up and shut off his cameras.
We should report back as soon as possible, of course,
(02:16):
but there seems to be a lot of wreckage out
there yet that we can't photograph and detail at this distance.
A close study of it might help us a lot
in understanding what they did and how they did it.
I'd say that we should get close ups of whatever
is left and do it right away before it gets
scattered all over space. But of course I can't give
(02:36):
you orders. You can, though, the captain made surprising answer.
My orders are that you are in command of this vessel.
In that case, we will proceed at full emergency acceleration
to investigate the wreckage. Cleveland replied, and the cruiser, sole
survivor of Triplanetary's supposedly invincible force, shot away, with every
(03:00):
projector delivering its maximum blast. As the scene of the
disaster was approached, there was revealed upon the plates a
confused mass of debris, a mass whose individual units were
apparently moving at random, yet which was as a whole
still following the orbit of Roger's planetoid. Space was full
of machine parts, structural members, furniture flotsam of all kinds,
(03:26):
and everywhere were the bodies of men. Some were encased
in space suits, and it was to these that the
rescuers turned first space hardened veterans. Though the men of
the Chicago were, they did not care even to look
at the others. Strangely enough, however, not one of the
floating figures spoke or moved, and spaceline men were hurriedly
(03:46):
sent out to investigate. All dead quickly, the dread report
came back, been dead a long time. The armours all
stripped off, the suits and the generators and the other
apparatus are all shot. Something funny about it too. None
of them seemed to have been touched, but the machinery
of the suits seemed to be about half of it missing.
(04:09):
I've got it all on the spools, Sir Cleveland, his
close up survey of the wreckage finished, turned to the captain.
What they've just reported checks up with what I've photographed everywhere.
I've got an idea of what might have happened, but
it's so dizzy that I'll have to have a lot
of reinforcement before I'll believe it myself. But you might
(04:30):
have them bring in a few of the armored bodies,
a couple of those switchboards and panels floating around out there,
and half a dozen miscellaneous pieces of junk, the nearest
things they can get hold of, whatever they happen to be.
Then back to tell Us, said maximum, Right back to
tell Us as fast as we can possibly go there.
(04:51):
While the Chicago hurtled to space at full power, Cleveland
and the ranking officers of the vessel grouped themselves about
the salvaged wreckage. Familiar with space rexes were they all?
None of them had ever seen anything like the material
before them. For every part and instrument was weirdly and
meaninglessly disintegrated. There were no brakes, no marks of violence,
(05:14):
and yet nothing was intact. Bolt holes stared, empty cores,
shielding cases and needles had disappeared, The vital parts of
every instrument hung awry. This organization reigned rampant and supreme.
I never imagine such a mess, the captain said, after
a long and silent study of the objects, If you
(05:36):
have any theory to cover that, Cleveland, I would like
to hear it. I want you to notice something first,
the busiray expert replied, But don't look for what's there,
look for what isn't there. Well, the armor's gone, so
are the shielding cases, shafts, spindles, the housings and stems.
(05:59):
The captain's voice died away as his eyes raced over
the collection. Why everything that was made of wood bacolite copper, aluminum, silver, bronze,
or anything, but steel hasn't been touched, and every bit
of steel is gone. But that doesn't make sense. What
does it mean? I don't know yet, Cleveland replied slowly,
(06:23):
But I'm afraid that there's more and worse. He opened
a space suit, reverently, revealing the face, a face calm
and peaceful, but utterly sickeningly white. Still reverently, he made
a deep incision in the brawny neck, severing the jugular vein,
then went on soberly. You never imagine such a thing
(06:45):
as white blood, either, But it all checks up some way. Somehow,
every particle, probably every atom, a free or combined iron,
in this whole volume of space was made off with huh,
how come? And above all why from the amazed and
staring officers, You know as much as I do, grimly ponderingly,
(07:10):
if it were not for the fact that there are
solid asteroids of iron out beyond Mars, I would say
that somebody wanted iron badly enough to wipe out the
fleets and the planetoid to get it. But anyway, whoever
they were, they carried enough power so that our armament
didn't bother them at all. This simply took the metal
they wanted and went away with it so fast that
(07:32):
I couldn't trace them with an ultra beam. There's only
one thing plain, and that's so plain that it scares
me stiff. This whole affair spells intelligence with a capital eye,
and that intelligence is anything but friendly as for me.
I want to get Fred Raudebush at work on this soon.
Think i'll hurry it up a little. He stepped over
(07:54):
to his ultra projector and called the terrestrial headquarters of
the TSS. Sam's's face soon appeared upon his screen. We
got it all, Virgil, he reported. It's something extraordinary, bigger, wider,
and deeper than any of us dreamed. It may be urgent, too,
so I think I had better shoot the pictures in
(08:15):
on the ultrawave and save a few days. Fred has
a tellomagneto recorder there that he can synchronize with this
camera outfit easily enough. Right, right, good work, Liman. Thanks
came back ' approval and appreciation, and soon the steeled
tapes were again flashing between the feed rolls. This time, however,
(08:35):
their varying magnetic charges were modulating an ultra wave, so
that every detail of that calamitous battle of the Void
was being screened and recorded in the innermost private laboratory
of the Triplanetary Secret Service. Eager though he naturally was
to join his fellow scientists, Cleveland did not waste his
time during the long but uneventful journey back to Earth.
(08:59):
There was more much to study, many improvements to be
made in his comparatively crude first ultra camera. Then too,
there were long conferences with Sam's, and particularly with Routabush,
the mathematical physicist, whose was the task of solving the
riddles of the energies and weapons of the Nevians. Thus,
it did not seem long before Green Terra grew large
(09:21):
beneath the flying sphere of the Chicago. Going to have
to circle at once, aren't you, Cleveland asked the chief pilot.
He had been watching that officer closely for minutes, admiring
the delicacy and precision with which the great vessel was
being maneuvered preliminary to entering the Earth's atmosphere. Yes, the
pilot replied, we had to come in with the shortest
(09:44):
possible time, and that meant of velocity here that we
can't check without a spiral. However, even at that we
saved a lot of time. You can save quite a
bit more, though, by having a rocket plane come out
to meet us somewhere around fifteen or twenty thousand kilometers
to pay end upon where you want to land. With
their power to mass ratio, they can match our velocity
(10:05):
and still make the drop direct. Guess I'll do that, thanks,
And the operative called his chief, only to learn that
his suggestion had already been acted upon. We beat you
to it, lyman Sam smiled, the silver sliver is out
there now, looping to match your course, acceleration and velocity
(10:26):
at twenty two thousand kilometers. You'll be ready to transfer.
I'll be ready, And the quartermaster's ex clerk went to
his quarters and packed his dunnage bag. In due time,
the long, slender body of the rocket plane came into view,
creeping down upon the spaceship from above, and Cleveland bade
his friends goodbye. Dotting a spacesuit, he stationed himself in
(10:50):
the starboard airlock. Its atmosphere was withdrawn. The outer door opened,
and he glanced across a bare hundred feet of space
at the rocket plane, which ports fiercely Aflame was breaking
her terrific speed to match the slower pace of the
gigantic ship of war, shaped like a toothpick needle pointed
for and aft, with ultra stubby wings and veins, with
(11:14):
flush set rocket ports everywhere. Built of illustrious, silvery alloy
of noble and almost infusible metals, such was the private
speedboat of the Chief of the TSS, the fastest thing known,
whether in planetary air, the stratosphere, or the vacuous depth
of interplanetary space. Her first flashing trial spins had won
(11:35):
her the nickname of the Silver Sliver. She had had
a more formal name, but that title had long since
been buried in the departmental files. Lower and slower dropped
the Silver Sliver, her rockets flaming even brighter until her
slender length lay level with the airlocked door. Then her
blasting discharges subsided to the power necessary to match exactly
(11:58):
the Chicago's deceleration. Ready to cut, Chicago, give me a
three second call snap from the pilot room of the Sliver.
Ready to cut. The pilot of the Chicago replied, seconds
three two one cut. At the last word, the power
of both vessels was instantly cut off, and everything in
(12:20):
them became weightless. In the tiny airlock of the slender
craft crouched a space lined man with coiled cable in readiness,
but he was not needed. As the flaring exhaust ceased,
Cleveland swung out his heavy bag and slept lightly off
into space, and in a right line, he floated directly
into the open doorway of the rocket plane. The door
(12:41):
clang shut behind him, and in a matter of moments
he stood in the control room of the racer, divested
of his armor and shaking hands with his friend and
co laborer Frederick Rottabush. Well, Fred, what do you know?
Cleveland asked, as sin as greetings had been exchanged. How
do the various reports tail together? I know that you
(13:02):
couldn't tell me anything on the wave, but there's no
danger of eavesdroppers here. You can't tell Rowtybush soberly replied,
we're just beginning to wake up to the fact that
there are a lot of things we don't know anything about.
Better wait until we're back at the hill. We have
a full set of ultra screens around there. Now there's
(13:25):
a couple of other good reasons too. It would be
better for both of us to go over the whole
thing with Virgil from the ground up, and we can
do any more talking anyway. Our orders are to get
back there at maximum. And you know what that means.
Aboard the sliver. Strap yourself solid in that shock absorber there,
and here's a pair of earplugs. When the Sliver really
(13:48):
cuts loose, it means a rough party, all right, Cleveland assented,
snapping about his body the heavy spring straps of his
deeply cushioned seat. But I'm just as anxious to get
back to the hill as anybody can be to get
me there. All set Ratabush waved his hand at the pilot,
and the purring whisper of the exhaust changed instantly to
(14:09):
a deafening, continuous explosion. The men were pressed deeply into
their shock absorbing chairs as the Silver Sliver spun around
her longitudinal axis and darted away from the Chicago with
such a tremendous acceleration that the spherical warship seemed to
be standing still in space. In due time, the calculated
midpoint was reached, the slim spaceplane rolled over again, and
(14:33):
mad acceleration, now reversed, rushed on toward the earth, but
with constantly diminishing speed. Finally a measurable atmospheric pressure was encountered.
The needle prow dipped downward, and the silver sliver shot
forward upon her tiny wings and veins, nose rockets, now
drumming in staccato thunder. Her metal grew hot, dull, red,
(14:56):
bright red, yellow, blinding white, but it neither melted nor burned.
The pilot's calculations had been sound, and though the limiting
point of safety of temperature was reached and steadily held,
it was not exceeded. As the density of the air increased,
so decreased the velocity of the man made meteorite. So
(15:17):
it was that a dazzling lance of fire sped high
over Seattle, lower over Spokane, and hurl itself eastward, a
furiously flaming arrow, slanting downward in a long, screaming dive
toward the heart of the Rockies. As the now rapidly
cooling Greyhound of the Skies passed over the western ranges
of the Bitter Roots, it became apparent that a goal
(15:39):
was of vast, flat topped and conical mountain shrouded in
livid light, a mountain whose height awed even its stupendous neighbors.
While not artificial, the hill had been altered markedly by
the triplanetary engineers who had built into it the headquarters
of the Secret Service. Its mile wide top was a
jointly expanse of gray armor steel. The steep, smooth surface
(16:04):
of the truncated cone was a continuation of the same
immensely thick sheet of metal. No known vehicle could climb
that smooth, hard forbidding slope of steel. No known projectile
could mar that armor. No known craft could even approach
the hill without detection, could not approach it at all,
in fact, for it was constantly enclosed in a vast
(16:26):
hemisphere of lament violet flame, through which neither material, substance
nor destructive ray could pass. As the silver sliver, crawling
along at a bare three hundred miles an hour approached
that transparent, brilliantly violet wall of destruction, a violet light
filled her control room and as suddenly went out, flashing
(16:47):
on and off again and again, giving us the once over.
Eh Cleveland asked, that is something new, isn't it, Fred, Yes,
it's a high powered ultra wave spy Rodebush replied. The
light is simply a warning which can be carried if desired.
(17:07):
It can also carry voice and vision Like this, Sams's
voice interrupted from the powerful dynamic speaker upon the pilot's panel,
and his clear cut face appeared upon the television screen.
I don't suppose Fred thought to mention it, but this
is one of his inventions of the last few days.
We are just trying it out on you. It doesn't
(17:29):
mean a thing though, as far as the sliver is concerned.
Come ahead. A circular opening appeared in the wall of force,
an opening which disappeared as soon as the plane had
darted through it, and at the same time, her landing
cradle rose into the air through a great trapdoor. Slowly
and gracefully, the space plane settled downward into that cushioned embrace.
(17:52):
Then cradle and nestled Sliver sank from view, and turning
smoothly upon mighty trunions, the plug of armor drove sideidly
back into its place in the metal pavement of the
mountain's lofty summit. The cradle elevator dropped rapidly, coming to
rest many levels down in the heart of the hill
and cleveland, and raudabush leaped lightly out of their transport
(18:15):
through her still hot outer walls. A door opened before them,
and they found themselves in a large room of full
daylight illumination, the ante room of the private office of
Virgil Sam's. Chiefs of departments sat at their desks, concentrated
upon problems or at ease, according to the demands of
the moment. Televisit types and recorders flashed busily but silently. Calmly,
(18:40):
efficient men and women went wontedly about the all embracing
business of Triplanetary's space pervading secret service. Right away. Norma
Routabousch paused briefly before the desk of the Chief's private secretary,
But even before he had spoken, she had pressed a
button and the door behind hers lung wide. You two
(19:02):
do not need to be announced, the attractive young woman smiled.
Go right in. Sam's met them at the door, eagerly,
shaking hands, particularly vigorously with Cleveland. Congratulations on that camera, Lineman,
he exclaimed, you did a wonderful piece of work on that.
Help yourselves to smokes and sit down. There are a
(19:24):
lot of things we want to talk over. Your pictures
carried most of the story, but they would have left
us pretty much at sea without Kostikin's reports. But as
it was, Fred here and his crew worked out most
of the answers from the dope the two of you got,
and what few they haven't got yet, they soon will
have nothing new. On Conway, Cleveland was almost afraid to
(19:46):
ask the question. No, A shadow came over Sam's's face.
I'm afraid, but I'm hoping it's only that those creatures,
whatever they are, have taken him so far away that
he can't reach us. They certainly are so far away
that we can't reach them. Rowtybush volunteered. We can't even
(20:08):
get their ultra wave interference anymore. Yes, that's a hopeful
sign SAMs went on. I hate to think of Conway
caustic and checking out there. Fellows was a real observer.
He was the only man I have ever known who
combined the two qualities of the perfect witness. He could
actually see everything he looked at, and could report it
(20:32):
truly to the last least detail. Take all this stuff,
for instance, especially their ability to transform iron into a
fluid allotrope, and in that form to use its intra
atomic energy as power, something brand new, unheard of except
in the ravings of imaginative fiction. And yet he described
(20:52):
their converters and projectors so minutely that Fred was able
to work out the underlying theory in three days tie
it in with our own supership. My first thought was
that we'd have to rebuild it iron free, but Fred
showed me my error. You found it first yourself. Of course,
it wouldn't do any good to make the ship non
(21:13):
ferris unless you could so change our blood chemistry that
we could get along without hemoglobin, and that would be
quite a feat. Cleveland agreed then too. Our most vital
electrical machinery is built around iron cores. No, we'll have
to develop a screen for those forces. Screens rather so
powerful that they can't drive anything through them. We've been
(21:37):
working along these lines ever since you reported, Rawdybush said,
and we're beginning to see light. And in that same connection,
it's no wonder that we couldn't handle our supership. We
had some good ideas, but they were wrongly applied. However,
things look quite promising now we have that trend information
(22:00):
of iron all worked out in theory, and as soon
as we get a generator going, we can straighten out
everything else in short order. And think what that unlimited
power means. All the power we want, power enough even
to try out such hitherto purely theoretical possibilities as the
neutralization of gravity and even of the inertia of matter.
(22:25):
Hold on protested SAMs. You certainly can't do that. Inertia
is must be a basic attribute of matter, and surely
cannot be done away with without destroying the matter itself.
Don't start anything like that, Fred, I don't want to
lose you in lyman too. Don't worry about us, Chief
(22:48):
Raudabush replied with a smile. If you will tell me
what matter is fundamentally, I may agree with you. No, well,
then don't be surprised at anything that happens. We are
going to do a lot of things that nobody ever
thought of doing before. Thus, for a long time the
argument and discussion went on to be interrupted by the
(23:11):
voice of the Secretary. Sorry to disturb you, mister Sam's,
but some things have come up that you will have
to handle. Nobos is calling from out near Mars. He
has caught the Endymion and has killed about half her
crew doing it. Milton has finally reported Venus, after being
out of touch for five days, he trailed the Wintons
(23:33):
into Thaleron's swamp. They crashed him there, but he won
out and has what he went after. And just now
I got a flash from Fletcher in the asteroid belt.
I think that he has finally traced that dope line.
But Nobos is on now. What do you want him
to do about the Endemion? Tell him to no, put
(23:54):
him on here. I'd better tell him myself, SAMs directed,
and his face hardened in ruthless decision as the horny,
misshapen face of the Martian lieutenant appeared upon the screen.
What do you think, Nobos, shall we come to trial
or not? No? I don't think so either. It is
better that a few gangsters should disappear in space than
(24:16):
run the risk of another uprising. See to it right.
The screen darkened and Sam spoke to his secretary. Put
Milton and Fletcher on whenever their rays come in. He
then turned to his guests. We've covered the ground quite thoroughly.
Good Bye. I wish I could go with you, but
I'll be pretty well tied up for the next week
(24:38):
or two. Tied up doesn't half express it. Rodebush remarked
as the two scientists walked along a corridor toward an elevator.
He probably is the busiest man on the three planets,
as well as the most powerful. Cleveland supplemented, and very
few men could use his power as fairly. But he's
(25:00):
welcome to it. As far as I'm concerned, I'd have
the Pink Fantids for a month if I had to
do only once what he's just done. And to him
it's just part of a day's work. You mean, the Endymion.
What else could he do? Nothing, That's just what I'm
talking about. It had to be done, since bringing them
(25:21):
to trial would probably mean killing half the people of Morsica.
But at the same time, it's a ghastly thing to
have to order a job of deliberate, cold blooded and
illegal murder. You're right, of course, but you would. He
broke off, unable to put his thoughts into words, for
(25:41):
while inarticulate men like concerning their deepest emotions. In both
men was ingrained the code of their organization. Both knew
that to every man chosen for it, the service was
everything himself nothing but enough of that, We'll have plenty
of grief of our own. Right here. Rodabus changed the
(26:03):
subject abruptly as they stepped into a vast room almost
filled by the immense bulk of the Boise, the senature spaceship, which,
although never flown, had already aligned with Black so many
pages of Triplanetary's roster. She was, now, however, the center
of a furious activity. Men swarmed over her and through
(26:23):
her in the orderly confusion of a fiercely driven but
carefully planned program of reconstruction. I hope your dope is right,
Fred Cleveland called, as the two sides is separated to
go to their respective laboratories. If it is, we'll make
a perfect lady out of this unmanageable man killer yet
(26:44):
end of chapter
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