Industrial Revolution Page 9

she was gone."

  "What? Where?"

  "How should I know? But that she-devil's capable of anything to wreckour chances."

  "You're not being fair to her. She's got an oath to keep."

  "All right," said Avis sweetly. "Far be it from me to prevent herfulfilling her obligations. Afterward she may even write you anoccasional letter. I'm sure that'll brighten your Rehab cell no end."

  "What can she do?" Blades argued, with an uneasy sense of whistling inthe dark. "She can't get off the asteroid without a scooter, and I'vealready got Sam's gang working on all the scooters."

  "Is there no other possibility? The radio shack?"

  "With a man on duty there. That's out." Blades patted the girl's arm.

  "O.K., I'll get back to work. But ... I'll be so glad when this isover, Mike!"

  Looking into the desperate brown eyes, Blades felt a sudden impulse tokiss their owner. But no, there was too much else to do. Later,perhaps. He cocked a thumb upward. "Carry on."

  _Too bad about Ellen_, he thought as he continued toward his office._What an awful waste, to make a permanent enemy of someone with herkind of looks. And personality--Come off that stick, you clabberhead!She's probably the marryin' type anyway._

  _In her shoes, though, what would I do? Not much; they'd pinch myfeet. But--damnation, Avis is right. She's not safe to have runningaround loose. The radio shack? Sparks is not one of the few who'vebeen told the whole story and co-opted into the plan. She could_--

  Blades cursed, whirled, and ran.

  His way was clear. Most of the men were still in their dorms,preparing to leave. He traveled in huge low-gravity leaps.

  The radio shack rose out of the surface near the verandah. Bladestried the door. It didn't budge. A chill went through him. He backedacross the corridor and charged. The door was only plastiboard--

  He hit with a thud and a grunt, and rebounded with a numbed shoulder.But it looked so easy for the cops on 3V!

  No time to figure out the delicate art of forcible entry. He hurledhimself against the panel, again and again, heedless of the pain thatstruck in flesh and bone. When the door finally, splinteringly gaveway, he stumbled clear across the room beyond, fetched up against aninstrument console, recovered his balance, and gaped.

  The operator lay on the floor, swearing in a steady monotone. He hadbeen efficiently bound with his own blouse and trousers, whichrevealed his predilection for maroon shorts with zebra stripes. Therewas a lump on the back of his head, and a hammer lay close by. Ellenmust have stolen the tool and come in here with the thing behind herback. The operator would have had no reason to suspect her.

  She had not left the sender's chair, not even while the door was underattack. Only a carrier beam connected the Sword with the _Altair_. Shecontinued doggedly to fumble with dials and switches, trying tomodulate it and raise the ship.

  "Praises be ... you haven't had advanced training ... in radio,"Blades choked. "That's ... a long-range set ... pretty specialsystem--" He weaved toward her. "Come along, now."

  She spat an unladylike refusal.

  Theoretically, Blades should have enjoyed the tussle that followed.But he was in poor shape at the outset. And he was a good deal worseoff by the time he got her pinioned.

  "O.K.," he wheezed. "Will you come quietly?"

  She didn't deign to answer, unless you counted her butting him in thenose. He had to yell for help to frog-march her aboard ship.

  * * * * *

  "_Pallas Castle_ calling NASS _Altair_. Come in, _Altair_."

  The great ovoid swung clear in space, among a million cold stars. Theasteroid had dwindled out of sight. A radio beam flickered acrossemptiness. Within the hull, the crew and a hundred refugees sat jammedtogether. The air was thick with their breath and sweat and waiting.

  Blades and Chung, seated by the transmitter, felt another kind ofthickness, the pull of the internal field. Earth-normal weight draggeddown every movement; the enclosed cabin began to feel suffocatinglysmall. _We'd get used to it again pretty quickly,_ Blades thought._Our bodies would, that is. But our own selves, tied down to Earthforever--no._

  The vision screen jumped to life. "NASS _Altair_ acknowledging _PallasCastle_," said the uniformed figure within.

  "O.K., Charlie, go outside and don't let anybody else enter," Chungtold his own operator.

  The spaceman gave him a quizzical glance, but obeyed. "I wish toreport that evacuation of the Sword is now complete," Chung saidformally.

  "Very good, sir," the Navy face replied. "I'll inform my superiors."

  "Wait, don't break off yet. We have to talk with your captain."

  "Sir? I'll switch you over to--"

  "None of your damned chains of command," Blades interrupted. "Get meRear Admiral Hulse direct, toot sweet, or I'll eat out whateverfraction of you he leaves unchewed. This is an emergency. I've got towarn him of an immediate danger only he can deal with."

  The other stared, first at Chung's obvious exhaustion, then at theblack eye and assorted bruises, scratches, and bites that adornedBlades' visage. "I'll put the message through Channel Red at once,sir." The screen blanked.

  "Well, here we go," Chung said. "I wonder how the food in Rehab isthese days."

  "Want me to do the talking?" Blades asked. Chung wasn't built fortimes as hectic as the last few hours, and was worn to a nubbin. Hehimself felt immensely keyed up. He'd always liked a good fight.

  "Sure." Chung pulled a crumpled cigarette from his pocket and began tofill the cabin with smoke. "You have a larger stock of rudeness thanI."

  Presently the screen showed Hulse, rigid at his post on the bridge."Good day, gentlemen," he said. "What's the trouble?"

  "Plenty," Blades answered. "Clear everybody else out of there; letyour ship orbit free a while. And seal your circuit."

  Hulse reddened. "Who do you think you are?"

  "Well, my birth certificate says Michael Joseph Blades. I've got somenews for you concerning that top-secret gadget you told us about. Youwouldn't want unauthorized personnel listening in."

  Hulse leaned forward till he seemed about to fall through the screen."What's this about a hazard?"

  "Fact. The _Altair_ is in distinct danger of getting blown to bits."

  "Have you gone crazy? Get me the captain of the _Pallas_."

  "Very small bits."

  Hulse compressed his lips. "All right, I'll listen to you for a shorttime. You had better make it worth my while."

  He spoke orders. Blades scratched his back while he waited for thebridge to be emptied and wondered if there was any chance of a hotshower in the near future.

  "Done," said Hulse. "Give me your report."

  Blades glanced at the telltale. "You haven't sealed your circuit,admiral."

  Hulse said angry words, but complied. "Now will you talk?"

  "Sure. This secrecy is for your own protection. You risk court-martialotherwise."

  Hulse suppressed a retort.

  * * * * *

  "O.K., here's the word." Blades met the transmitted glare with analmost palpable crash of eyeballs. "We decided, Mr. Chung and I, thatany missile rig as haywire as yours represents a menace to navigationand public safety. If you can't control your own nuclear weapons, youshouldn't be at large. Our charter gives us local authority as peaceofficers. By virtue thereof and so on and so forth, we ordered certainprecautionary steps taken. As a result, if that war head goes off, I'msorry to say that NASS _Altair_ will be destroyed."

  "Are you ... have you--" Hulse congealed. In spite of everything, hewas a competent officer, Blades decided. "Please explain yourself," hesaid without tone.

  "Sure," Blades obliged. "The Station hasn't got any armament, buttrust the human race to juryrig that. We commandeered the scoopshipsbelonging to this vessel and loaded them with Jovian gas at maximumpressure. If your missile detonates, they'll dive on you."

  Something like amusement tinged Hulse's shocked expression. "Do youseriously
consider that a weapon?"

  "I seriously do. Let me explain. The ships are orbiting free rightnow, scattered through quite a large volume of space. Nobody's aboardthem. What is aboard each one, though, is an autopilot taken from ascooter, hooked into the drive controls. Each 'pilot has its sensorslocked onto your ship. You can't maneuver fast enough to shake offradar beams and mass detectors. You're the target object, and there'snothing to tell those idiot computers to decelerate as they