style="font-size:15px;"> “How far out is Craven?” asked Russ.
“Not far enough,” Greg replied unhappily. “He can’t be more than three billion miles from the star and that star’s hot. A class G, all right, but a good deal younger than old Sol.”
*
“We’ll let them know we’ve arrived,” grinned Greg. He sent a stabbing beam of half a billion horsepower slashing at the Interplanetarian.
The other ship staggered but steadied itself.
“They know,” said Russ cryptically from his position in front of the vision plate. “We shook them up a bit.”
They waited. Nothing happened.
Greg scratched his head. “Maybe you were right. Maybe they don’t want to fight.”
Together they watched the Interplanetarian. It was still moving in toward the distant sun, as if nothing had happened.
“We’ll see,” said Greg.
Back at the controls he threw out a gigantic tractor beam, catching the other ship in a net of forces that visibly cut its speed.
Space suddenly vomited lashing flame that slapped back and licked and crawled in living streamers over the surface of the Invincible. The engines moaned in their valiant battle to keep up the outer screen. The pungent odor of ozone filtered into the control room. The whole ship was bucking and vibrating, creaking, as if it were being pulled apart.
“So they don’t want to fight, eh?” hooted Russ.
Greg gritted his teeth. “They snapped the tractor beam.”
“They have power there,” Russ declared.
“Too much,” said Greg. “More power than they have any right to have.”
His hand went out to the lever on the board and pulled it back. A beam smashed out, with the engines’ screaming drive behind it, billions of horsepower driving with unleashed ferocity at the other ship.
Greg’s hand spun a dial, while the generators roared thunderous defiance.
“I’m giving them the radiation scale,” said Greg.
The Interplanetarian was staggering under the terrific bombardment, but its screen was handling every ounce of the power that Greg was pouring into it.
“Their photo-cells can’t handle that,” cried Russ. “No photo-cell would handle all that stuff you’re shooting at them. Unless ...”
“Unless what?”
“Unless Craven has improved on them.”
“We’ll have to find out. Get the televisor.”
*
Russ leaped for the television machine.
A moment later he lifted a haggard face.
“I can’t get through,” he said. “Craven’s got our beams stopped and now he has our television blocked out.”
Greg nodded. “We might have expected that. When he could scramble our televisors back in the Jovian worlds, he certainly ought to be able to screen his ship against them.”
He shoved the lever clear over, slamming the extreme limit of power into the beam. The engines screamed like demented things, howling and shrieking. Instantly a tremendous sheet of solid flame spun a fiery web around the Interplanetarian, turning it into a blazing inferno of lapping, leaping fire.
A dozen terrific beams, billions of horsepower in each, stabbed back at the Invincible as the Interplanetarian shunted the terrific energy influx from the overcharged accumulators to the various automatic energy discharges.
The Invincible’s screen flared in defense and the ten great engines wailed in utter agony. More stabbing flame shot from the Interplanetarian in slow explosions.
The temperature in the Invincible’s control room was rising. The ozone was sharp enough to make their eyes water and nostrils burn. The vision glass was blanked out by the lapping flames that crawled and writhed over the screen outside the glass.
Russ tore his collar open, wiped his face with his shirt sleeve. “Try a pure magnetic!”
Greg, his face set and bleak as a wall of stone, grunted agreement. His fingers danced over the control manual.
Suddenly the stars outside twisted and danced, like stars gone mad, as if they were dancing a riotous jig in space, some uproariously hopping up and down while others were applauding the show that was being provided for their unblinking eyes.
The magnetic field was tightening now, twisting the light from those distant stars and bending it straight again. The Interplanetarian reeled like a drunken thing and the great arcs of electric flame looped madly and plunged straight for the field’s very heart.
*
The stars danced weirdly in far-off space again as the Interplanetarian’s accumulators lashed out with tremendous force to oppose the energy of the field.
The field glowed softly and disappeared.
“They have us stopped at every turn,” groaned Russ. “There must be some way, something we can do.” He looked at Greg. Greg grinned without humor, wiping his face. “There is something we can do,” said Russ grimly. “We should have thought of it long ago.”
He strode to the desk, reached out one hand and drew a calculator near.
“You keep them busy,” he snapped. “I’ll have this thing figured out in just a while.”
From the engine rooms came the roar and hum of the laboring units and the Invincible shuddered once again as Greg grimly hurled one beam after another, at the Interplanetarian.
The Interplanetarian struck back, using radio frequency that flamed fiercely against the Invincible’s outer screen. Simultaneously the Interplanetarian leaped forward with a sudden surge of accumulated energy, driving at the star that lay not more than three billion miles away.
Greg worked desperately, cursing under his breath. He pulled down the outer screen that was fighting directly against the radio frequency, energy for energy, and allowed the beam to strike squarely on the second screen, the inversion field that shunted the major portion of the energy impacting against it through 90 degrees into another space.
The engines moaned softly and settled into a quieter rumble as the necessity of supplying the first screen was eliminated. But they screamed once again as Greg sent out a tractor beam that seized and held, dragged the Interplanetarian to a standstill. Craven’s ship had gained millions of miles, though, and established a tremendous advantage by fighting nearer to its source of energy.
“Russ,” gasped Greg, “if you don’t get that scheme of yours figured out pretty soon, we’re done for. They’ve stopped everything we’ve got. They’re
