The Mysterious Planet: читать книгу онлайн полностью и бесплатно

Bob stared at the screen, where the ship was growing in size as they drew nearer.

Obviously the ship had been surprisingly close to their course and speed before the attack, or they couldn’t have done more than slip by too fast to help the other. At interplanetary speeds, a normal meeting in space lasted only fractions of a second. There wouldn’t be even time to fire a shot. It was that which made piracy possible, since a Navy ship could be still matching course while the pirates were already bound for their hide-out.

At first it looked as if that had happened this time. Then Anderson pointed to the radar screen. There were two shapes there, one obviously the Ionian, and the other larger. It must have been painted jet black, which would explain why it didn’t show in the telescope screen.

Then, as Bob looked closer, he could just make it out. It was invisible unless he knew where to look.

Suddenly space seemed to flare up around it. The Ionian had obviously fired a torpedo, and it had caught the pirate dead center. In the glare the ship seemed to be about six hundred feet long, as big as a full-sized battlewagon. But its lines were different. It was large and rounded at both ends, with a narrower middle that made it look something like a streamlined dumbbell. There were no vanes or projections of any kind.

Beside Bob, his father sucked in sharply on his breath, just as another torpedo went off. One should have finished the black ship, but nothing seemed to happen, except that space around the ship turned faintly blue, and then gradually sank to red and disappeared.

“Screens!” Anderson barked.

Commander Griffith nodded slowly. “It can’t be; science proved that screens capable of soaking up a blast like that are impossible. But he’s got them, anyhow. No wonder the pirates are getting bolder. Hey!”

Two torpedoes had caught the black ship dead center. But again it rode them out easily, with only a somewhat stronger glow around it. Bob had read up on the Navy’s attempts to get screens, long ago. But nobody had been able to come up with anything which could turn the energy of a violent explosion aside or slow up a projectile enough to do any good. They had talked about twisting space a bit—whatever that meant—but they hadn’t been able to do it.

Now the Lance was closer to the scene. The black ship seemed not to notice them. It turned about quickly, with no jetting of rockets, and pointed squarely toward the Ionian. Something must have been done, but there was no sign aboard the black ship. Yet the nose of the Ionian suddenly turned white hot and melted into a metal vapor that spread out rapidly through space.

This time even Hoeck cried out. “Heat ray!”

It was another thing the Navy scientists had worked on, and given up. As they had explained it, anything hot enough to project through space and burn would be too hot to be contained in any instruments needed to handle it.

Now the black ship darted in against the Ionian, completely covering the merchant ship from view. It must have been a boarding and looting operation, though no details could be seen.

Griffith leaped to the control panel, and a second later the guns of the Lance began pounding explosive projectiles at the black ship. They hit, but there was only a fault glow.

A warning gong sounded, and Bob braced himself as Hoeck began twisting the Lance to come up against the pirate. Commander Griffith was calling men on the intercom. Now he looked up at Anderson.

“This is emergency enough,” he stated. “We’re breaking out our own secret weapon. And let’s hope it works… Hey!”

Hoeck had cut the deceleration and was accelerating again. In the screen, Bob saw the reason. The black ship had pulled away as calmly as if it had been alone in space and was now heading outward toward Neptune. Again, there was no sign of rocket blast. It simply moved, with no sign of how.

“Hold it, Hoeck!” The Commander reached for the” emergency controls, again restoring deceleration. “We’ve got to worry about the people on the Ionian first. We can’t leave people dying, however much I’d like to catch that pirate!”

Bob groaned, though he knew his father was right.

Half a minute later they had matched speeds with the crippled ship. Men already had the connecting tube ready to snap from the Lance to the open lock of the Ionian, and Hoeck gentled the cruiser in against the freighter.

“No air inside,” the exploring party reported back in a couple of minutes.

That meant that anyone inside who hadn’t been able to get into a space suit almost at once would be dead. It usually took several minutes to don the bulky suits, too—longer than life was possible without air.

Griffith nodded as Bob reached into a locker for one of the emergency suits. “Go along, if you like. But stay behind Anderson.”

They went down, once the suits were on. Men were waiting in the lock, equipped with cutting tools to free anyone aboard the Ionian who might be trapped, or fastened behind airtight bulkheads. They all swung into line behind Anderson, going down the rubbery tunnel and into the air lock of the Ionian. There the inner lock was stuck, open a crack, but not enough for entrance; some of the crew were just cutting it free as they went in.

Nobody was on the other side to greet them, and that was a bad sign. Anyone trapped on the vessel should have been waiting eagerly for the rescue party. They went up the catwalk toward the control room. Everything was in fair order, but nobody was there.

“Nothing, Commander,” Anderson was reporting back. “No sign of bodies, either. We’re going to spread out and go through the ship.”

He detailed men off in pairs, to begin at the ruined nose and work back to the engine room.

Bob went with Anderson. There was still no sign of bodies. That was stranger than anything else. They hadn’t expected too much chance of finding men alive, but the dead should have been scattered around. They worked their way back slowly, opening every door, but nothing showed up.

Anderson cracked open a big hatch and cast the light on his helmet down it. “Storage cargo—completely empty. Bob, can you make out that label on the floor?”

Bob stared at the torn strip of paper, and strained his eyes. “Looks like Biotics—With Care” he finally decided.