nothing at all ... except that we may never reach the Solar System!”
Stutsman seemed to sag. The wolfish snarl on his lips drooped. His eyes stared. Then with an effort he braced himself.
“What do you mean? Why can’t we?” He gestured toward the vision plate, toward the tiny yellow star between the two brighter stars.
“That,” said Craven, “isn’t our Sun. It has planets, but it isn’t our Sun.”
Chambers stepped quickly to Craven, reached out a hand and hoisted him from the chair, shook him.
“You must be joking! That has to be the Sun!”
Craven shrugged free of Chambers’ clutch, spoke in an even voice. “I never joke. We made a mistake, that’s all. I hadn’t meant to tell you yet. I had intended to get in close to the star and take on a full load of power and then try to locate our Sun. But I’m afraid it’s a hopeless task.”
“A hopeless task?” shrieked Stutsman. “You are trying to trick me. This is put up between the two of you. That’s the Sun over there. I know it is!”
“It isn’t,” said Craven. “Manning tricked us. He started off in the wrong direction. He made us think he was going straight back to the Solar System, but he didn’t. He circled and went in some other direction.”
The scientist eyed Stutsman calmly. Stutsman’s knuckles were white with the grip he had upon the gun.
“We’re lost,” Craven told him, looking squarely at him. “We may never find the Solar System!”
Chapter Twenty
The revolution was over. Interplanetary officials and army heads had fled to the sanctuary of Earth. Interplanetary was ended ... ended forever, for on every world, including Earth, material energy engines were humming. The people had power to burn, to throw away, power so cheap that it was practically worthless as a commodity, but invaluable as a way to a new life, a greater life, a fuller life ... a broader destiny for the human race.
Interplanetary stocks were worthless. The mighty power plants on Venus and Mercury were idle. The only remaining tangible asset were the fleets of spaceships used less than a month before to ship the accumulators to the outer worlds, to bring them Sunward for recharging.
Patents protecting the rights to the material energy engines had been obtained from every government throughout the Solar System. New governments were being formed on the wreckage of the old. John Moore Mallory already had been inaugurated as president of the Jovian confederacy. The elections on Mars and Venus would be held within a week.
Mercury, its usefulness gone with the smashing of the accumulator trade, had been abandoned. No human foot now trod its surface. Its mighty domes were empty. It went its way, as it had gone for billions of years, a little burned out, worthless planet, ignored and shunned. For a brief moment it had known the conquering tread of mankind, had played its part in the commerce of the worlds, but now it had reverted to its former state ... a lonely wanderer of the regions near the Sun, a pariah among the other planets.
*
Russell Page looked across the desk at Gregory Manning. He heaved a sigh and dug the pipe out of his jacket pocket.
“It’s finished, Greg,” he said.
Greg nodded solemnly, watching Russ fill the bowl and apply the match.
Except for the small crew, they were alone in the Invincible. John Moore Mallory and the others were on their own worlds, forming their own governments, carrying out the dictates of the people, men who would go down in solar history.
The Invincible hung just off Callisto. Russ looked out at the mighty moon, saw the lonely stretches of its ice-bound surface, saw the silvery spot that was the dome of Ranthoor.
“All done,” said Greg, “except for one thing.”
“Go out and get Chambers and the others,” said Russ, puffing at the pipe.
Greg nodded. “We may as well get started.”
Russ rose slowly, went to the wall cabinet and lifted out a box, the mechanical shadow with its tiny space field surrounding the fleck of steel that would lead them to the Interplanetarian. Carefully he lifted the machine from its resting place and set it on the desk. Bending over it, he watched the dials.
Suddenly he whistled. “Greg, they’ve moved! They aren’t where we left them!”
Greg sprang to his side and stared at the readings. “They’re moving farther away from us ... out into space. Where can they be going?”
Russ straightened, scowling, pulling at the pipe. “They probably found another G-type star, and are heading for that. They must think it is old Sol.”
“That sounds like it,” said Greg. “We spun all over the map to throw Craven off and looped several times so he’d lose all sense of direction. Naturally he would be lost.”
“But he’s evidently got something,” Russ pointed out. “We left him marooned ... dead center, out where he didn’t have too much radiation and couldn’t get leverage on any single body. Yet he’s moving—and getting farther away all the time.”
“He solved our gravitation concentration screen,” said Greg. “He tricked us into giving him power to build it.”
The two men looked at one another for a long minute.
“Well,” said Russ, “that’s that. Craven and Chambers and Stutsman. The three villains. All lost in space. Heading for the wrong star. Hopelessly lost. Maybe they’ll never find their way back.”
He stopped and relit his pipe. An aching silence fell in the room.
“Poetic justice,” said Russ. “Hail and farewell.”
Greg rubbed his fist indecisively along the desk. “I can’t do it, Russ. We took them out there. We marooned them. We have to get them back or I couldn’t sleep nights.”
Russ laughed quietly, watching the bleak face that stared at him. “I knew that’s what you’d say.”
He knocked out the pipe, crushed a fleck of burning tobacco with his boot. Pocketing the pipe, he walked to the control panel, sat down and reached for the lever. The engines hummed louder and louder. The Invincible darted spaceward.
*
“It’s too late now,” said Chambers. “By the time we reach that planetary system and charge our accumulators, Manning and Page will have everything under control back in the Solar System. Even if we could locate the star that was our Sun, we wouldn’t have a chance to get there in time.”
“Too bad,” Craven said, and wagged his head, looking like a solemn owl. “Too bad. Dictator Stutsman won’t have a chance to strut his stuff.”
Stutsman started to say something and thought better of it. He leaned back in his chair. From his belt hung a heat pistol.
Chambers eyed
