The Mysterious Planet: читать книгу онлайн полностью и бесплатно

Bob knew then that it was purely routine. Doctors had found that nervous tension built up under high acceleration, and it had to receive a rest after a certain time. During that period there would be no formality, as indicated by Griffith’s use of bis son’s name instead of his rank.

Hoeck was carving a tiny statue out of some hard wood, and Anderson was playing a mouth organ. But Bob’s father sat relaxed and ready to answer the questions about the ship which had come up during the trip. The ever-present tea of the Navy was already poured and waiting. Bob dropped down gratefully, feeling as light as a feather in spite of the twinges in his sore muscles. Right then, a whole hour of relaxation seemed like a lot.

But it was only half an hour later when something buzzed sharply on the control panel.

Anderson glanced sharply toward the light that would tell whether Sparks, the radioman, was on duty. Then he picked up a pair of phones, and began juggling meters.

Nearly every instrument on board had auxiliary controls here.

His fingers began hitting a tiny typewriter rapidly. Then he stopped in midstroke. “Cut off! Commander, look at this.” He began trying to signal, but obviously got no further message.

Bob crowded up to study the sheet on the typewriter, but his father summarized it quickly.

“SOS from the Ionian. She’s near by and being attacked by pirates!”

“Must have punctured the radio shack,” Anderson cut in sharply. “She’s gone silent now.”

“Any acknowledgments?” Griffith asked.

“None,” Anderson said. “We’re the nearest ship to her. It looks like it’s up to us to go to the rescue.”

CHAPTER 3

The Black Ship

CAN WE MATCH HER SPEED?” Griffith snapped out to Hoeck. The navigator jerked the sheet out of the typewriter and began studying the numbers that had been sent to indicate position and speed. His fingers jumped to a little calculator, and began work at interpreting them. Bob heard his father sounding a general alarm for the men to get back to duty on the double.

In front of the control room, a small hatch suddenly snapped open, and a six-inch rifle slid out rapidly, turret-mounted and fully compensated for recoil. He knew that all over the ship the various weapons would be made ready—cannon, guided-missile launchers, self-steering torpedoes, and a maze of others.

“Make it,” Hoeck decided, and threw another sheet to Griffith, who studied it, frowning heavily.

Anderson whistled as he saw the results, but went back to his seat at once, and began pulling out a suit of elastic cords and metal reinforcement. The others were doing the same, and the radio buzzed in Bob’s ear as general orders came over it for all men to get into high-acceleration harness.

His own harness was under his seat. He began slipping it on and binding it up as quickly as he could. It helped to ease the strain of high pressure by binding the body in a tight elastic sheath that prevented distortion and helped to maintain even blood circulation.

When it was on, he found a button on the seat, which

snapped it back to form a horizontal couch. Men could stand more strain when they lay completely horizontal to it.

“Ten seconds,” the radio said. Bob counted under his breath, but he was too fast. He’d reached thirteen before the pressure suddenly seemed to hit him with a leaden hand. His father had raised the acceleration to better than eight times the normal pressure of gravity, and cut on the side steering rockets, all together. Now they’d be turning and doubling in space in an attempt to reach the Ionian with the same speed and course she was following.

Bob had been given high-acceleration drills before, but never for as long a time. His brain seemed to go numb, except for a dull ache. His senses reeled and threatened to black out on him. His eyes would not focus, and he couldn’t see the others beside him. Nor could he hear them because of the roaring in his ears.

The little radio cut through his daze, carrying his father’s strained words. “Sparks, order the other ships to continue on course; they’re too slow for this. All men attention. We’re going into an encounter with pirates. The Lance has to take care of it alone. Ready all weapons, be prepared for unknown number of pirates.”

It seemed to take hours, though the high-acceleration flight probably lasted no more than half an hour. Even that was too long, though. They’d arrive worn and tired from the strain, even if the pirates hadn’t already done their job and gone sailing off without a trace.

Once piracy had nearly been stamped out, but now it seemed to be bolder than ever. There were rumors that the entire crew and passenger list of a couple of ships had been carried away.

Numbness of the acceleration pressure kept Bob from feeling the excitement that he should have experienced. He was almost completely unconscious by the time the high drive was cut, and they snapped back to light acceleration. He revived almost at once, though, to stare through the observation window, as his father and Hoeck were doing.

There was no sign of either the Ionian or pirates; they must have arrived too late! Then Anderson let out a sharp grunt, and cut on the big electronic telescope screen. In it, a bright silvery spindle showed up, with the standard lines of a freighter-passenger combination from one of Jupiter’s moons.

“Fool!” Hoeck said harshly.

“You can’t expect a merchant captain to take a fix in space without error,” Griffith told him.

“We’re lucky he wasn’t more off. But it doesn’t look as if he’s lucky. How far?”

“Three minutes. We’ll overtake them about as fast this way as we would by stopping to calculate a new high-drive jump,” Anderson guessed. But it was Hoeck’s nod that decided Griffith; the navigator could work such short courses out in his head with reasonable accuracy. Now he was setting up an automatic sequence on the board which would slow them down when they reached the Ionian.