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Read Ebook: Grace Darling Heroine of the Farne Islands by Farningham Marianne
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Ebook has 1306 lines and 89604 words, and 27 pages
"What? Not camera shy, are you?" Janus' fingers seemed to fumble, but his gaze never left Mark's face.
"The lens isn't set! It--it's special, you know." Mark stepped forward. His limbs seemed wooden. He took the box from Janus' hands, and pretending to adjust the lens, his thumb found the hidden stud and released it. The hum of the inner coils descended the scale again, became audible for a split second but only to Mark's ears; then they were dead.
He let out a slow breath, handed the box back. "Okay now. Shoot."
Janus waved it away. "Oh, well, it can wait. We'll get it later." He came around the desk, thrust out his hand. "Welcome aboard, Travers! You're one of us."
Mark suddenly knew that Janus knew his secret ... but somehow he wasn't worried. He wondered if any of the others had noticed the by-play; moreover, he wondered what being "one of them" meant....
He was soon to know. At that moment a voice sliced through the radio.
"Callisto calling! Earth-Station Six on Callisto! We have had you in our beam for the past twenty minutes. You are out of bounds and you display no insignia. As this is a violation of the Space-Code, you will go into a drift immediately and await the Patrollers who will escort you to Callisto for investigation! Refusal to obey constitutes outlawry against the Federation, and the Patrol will act accordingly!"
The men weren't startled. If anything they were amused. The one named Dethman simply straightened away from the radio and his hard, square face broke into a grin.
"Think of it, men, we're being outlawed! Now ain't that one for the books?"
The face of Ral Kaarj, the Martian, was blank and leathery. His heavy-lidded eyes blinked once or twice, but only his incongruously high-pitched voice revealed his emotions.
"Not without sanction of those gray-beards in the Council," Janus said, "and the Earth Corporations who are the real power. You know how they try to squelch men like us, free-footers who won't play ball with 'em." He flicked open the communicator to Brownell in the control room. "How about it, Prof? Get that message?"
"Yes," Mark heard a voice reply. "All right, we'll go into a drift. Let the Patrollers come, we'll give 'em a show!"
"Right! Need any help?"
"No, but keep the communicator open. And take a look in the V-panel if you want." Brownell actually seemed pleased!
Janus clicked on the visipanel, turned the magnifying dials. Callisto was seen in the swimming blackness of space with the huge bulk of Jupiter as a backdrop. Under Janus' sure fingers the scene expanded, came nearer.
Minutes passed; then they saw six Patrollers speeding out to meet them. Brownell had cut rockets and they were in a drift now, waiting.
Waiting for what, Mark wondered. These Patrollers were speedy ships and deadly, equipped with atomo-bombs, dis-rays and magnetic beams! He shifted nervously.
The Patrollers came very near. Then they broke formation, arraying themselves three on each side of the outlaw ship. Magnetic beams, pale green and swirling, reached out to touch the hull. They fastened there tenaciously. In this manner they began the route back to Callisto.
Even Janus seemed a little worried now. He turned to the communicator.
"How about it, Professor? Those beams are powerful? Think you can slip out?"
"Wait and see; I promised a show, didn't I? Tell you what, though, better break out the acceleration harness!"
These were suits within suits, double layers of tough plasticoid. Mark stepped into his, opened the pressure valve that forced air between the two thicknesses. The outer one ballooned, giving a grotesque, roly-poly appearance. He bounced hard against the wall to test it.
"Better open them full," Janus advised.
They were ready. They stood against the far wall and watched the screen across the room. Callisto was looming. They'd soon be within its gravity.
Ferris, standing beside Mark, said in a low voice: "What kind of a news-man are you, Travers? Y'oughta be getting pictures of this. Make swell release stuff when you get back to Earth." His tone was mocking.
Mark felt a growing dislike of this man. He suppressed a retort, said curtly instead: "Too late now." He had placed his "camera" safely in an inside pocket.
The Patrollers' magnetic beams still towed them along at terrific speed, setting up a slight vibration in the walls.
Suddenly there was a new kind of vibration. Mark didn't know what it was. Certainly not rocket tubes.
"Get set!" Janus warned.
Someone muttered: "If he slips out of six magnetic beams--" but that was all. A fierce surge came beneath their feet, and Callisto seemed to leap at them. Within seconds a ghastly nausea gripped their insides. The ballooning suits were pressed so flat against the wall it became impossible to breathe! Their hearts pumped sluggishly, and a gray veil began to form before their eyes....
These were men so accustomed to hardships that space-acceleration meant nothing, but now they were experiencing something new in acceleration. They felt as if their entrails were being compressed into atoms!
Mark could barely see the screen now. The way Callisto was rushing at them he felt sure the planet was going to blank them out. He tried to shut his eyes, but even his eyelids wouldn't move! Then Callisto slipped off the screen, and Mark knew they must have made a sharp parabola. Two of the Patrollers were glimpsed far behind, reaching out futilely with dis-rays.
Even as he struggled for breath, Mark wanted to laugh; but the desire left him suddenly as the tremendous bulk of Jupiter loomed. If they escaped that gravity--
And they did. They came close, but their parabola tightened, then they were pulling away. Speed remained constant as Jupiter faded. Mark could breathe again but he ached through every inch of his body. He could only think wearily.
This, he thought--this meant they must have accelerated to the sixth, seventh or even eighth magnitude!
"All right," he announced finally, "we're on robot control. We can rest easy for a while." He sneered in the direction of Jupiter. "We showed 'em some speed, eh? So they want my Frequency Tuner, do they? Let them come and get it! The dolts, the moronic interfering meddlers!"
Janus plainly showed his relief, as he winked at Mark, who said, "That was some chance you took. Suppose it hadn't worked?"
"But it did work! That was the final test, and it was necessary. I had to know how it would react against the beams."
Mark ventured a question. "Frequency Tuner? Is that what gave you the acceleration? I knew it wasn't rocket power!"
Brownell turned piercing black eyes upon him. "Eh? Janus, who is this?"
Janus vouched for Mark, explained his presence aboard. He added: "The Bureau's after an invention of his, too. A camera."
The Professor was startled. "Did you say a camera? Since when do they--"
"Ah, but Mark's is a very special camera." Janus smiled maddeningly, but in the next instant was clapping a friendly hand on Mark's shoulder. "Don't worry, Travers, your secret's safe with us. We don't ask questions. You've a right to know our destination, though; come on, I'll show you."
They repaired to the chart room, where Janus indicated a moving red line on a glass-encased chart of the solar system. Other lines were being traced, too, at various angles to their trajectory.
"The red line is our present trajectory. The others are the orbits of the planets. See, there's Jupiter behind us; notice how close we came."
Mark nodded. Already in his mind's eye he was extending their present parabola. Distances between these outer planets were vast beyond imagining! Saturn was just in sight, but at their present speed they would probably cross its orbit far in advance of the planet. Then came Uranus, and next Neptune. The space between Neptune and Pluto was vaster than all.
Mark felt just a little staggered. There was no known record of men having come this far! Not beyond Jupiter, in fact.
He turned to Janus. "How far do we go?"
"All the way."
"Pluto?"
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